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zodiakuroo · 4 years

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Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences. That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would. Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours. Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine. You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle. Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea. He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it. He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”. All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt. You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

#dabi is just the worst huh #sorry about the angst i honestly don’t know how that happened #dark content #dark fic #mha smut #tw dubcon #bnha imagines #bnha smut #dabi imagine #dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha x reader #tw slapping #tw noncon #tw unhealthy relationship #tw gunplay #tw death mention

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l-strawberry-lawliet · 3 years

Text

Sniffle

L. Lawliet x S/I//Reader

Rating: Was General, now Mature

Type: Fluff and Smut all mixed together, oddly enough

Summary: Reader//S/I starts to get sick and L refuses to care about germs as he cuddles them and takes care of them. Technically gender neutral but with a DFAB SI in mind.

“No, don’t touch me, I’m sick,” I whined in protest as L crawled into bed with me. Not only did I not want him to see me when I felt so gross, I didn’t want him getting too close and making it easier for me to spread my germs.

“I’m quite aware that you’re sick,” he murmured, his arms sliding around me as he tugged me into his chest and nestled his face into my neck. “That’s why I’m here, to comfort you and take care of you.”

“But I’ll get you sick,” I protested weakly, my resolve already fading as I relaxed into his hold. Being around L always made me soft and weak. He held my heart in the palms of his hands.

“Mm, the likelihood exceeds sixty percent, but still, how could I leave my love to suffer?”

He kissed my pulse-point as he spooned me and I thought I might melt. “You don’t deserve to suffer with me, and you have a case, don’t you?”

His lips ghosting over the shell of my ear followed by the puff of his breath made me shudder. “Do you mean the case I just solved within five hours?”

One of his hands gently squeezed my breast, fingers lightly flicking my nipple through my thin nightgown.

“You already closed it?” Before he could answer, a vicious cough wracked by body, ripping itself free of my throat as I wheezed and sputtered.

“And I won’t be taking another for at least a week. My contacts know through Watari that I am taking care of a personal matter.”

“That’s one way to put taking care of your sick partner and intentionally getting sick with them.”

I could practically feel that small, self-satisfied twitch of his lips as he smirked, even without seeing his face. Another cough erupted, making me gasp as I scrabbled desperately for breath. The tickling itch in my throat intensified as the stream of coughing continued, lungs spasming helplessly with every breath I managed between gasps. L held me through it all, not flinching in the slightest.

When I finally regained control of my body, he eased me into an upright position. He allowed my tired body to slump against him, bearing most of my weight as he reached for one of the thermoses sitting on the nightstand. He unscrewed the cap and passed it to me, kissing my temple. “Drink. I made it for you.”

I unscrewed the lid, immediately hit by a combined sweet and herbal scent. Taking a small sip, I tasted honey, lemon, and ginger. The steam wafting from the mixture licked against my cheeks as I drank small mouthfuls in order to avoid scalding my tongue. It did an excellent job soothing my throat, some of the soreness abating almost instantly. I inhaled its fragrance again before replacing the lid, sighing as I handed the thermos back to L. “Thanks babe.”

He smiled, something soft, fond, and genuine, reaching out to caress my jawline with the knuckle of his index finger. “I do so adore seeing your cheeks flushed, just not like this.”

He kissed the side of my nose and I flinched back, still not wanting to drag him down with me. L, however, was having none of it as he cupped my cheek and leaned in for a kiss, thumb pressing on my bottom lip. His own lips were as soft as ever, his mouth just as inviting. My will to push him away faded, even when he slipped his tongue between my slightly parted lips. My breath quickened and I hoped to whatever gods were listening that I wouldn’t suddenly cough into his mouth. I hated making him sick. I wanted to push him off of me and demand he keep his distance when he guided me onto my back without breaking the kiss, but when one of his hands trailed up my inner thigh, my traitorous body parted my legs for him. Even sick I wanted him, wanted him to touch me. I craved it and he knew it.

“My my,” L purred. “No underwear, love? Were you secretly hoping all along that I would ignore your no-sick contact policy?”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “No, of course not. I really don’t want to get you sick.”

“Too late, love.” He held my gaze as he penetrated me with three of his tantalizingly long fingers. I involuntarily clamped down on them with a soft moan. “Being that I have already been exposed, however, I think we should make the most of it.”

“Make the most of it?”

“Thoroughly.”

He lifted my nightgown with his free hand, meticulously placing a kiss on every inch of my breasts as his fingers worked, twisting and pressing and curling until my fists clenched in the blankets by my side, the muscles of my lower stomach and thighs tensing. “L,” I whimpered.

“It’s okay to let go,” he whispered, nose trailing along my collarbone. “I wanted you to come so you could get some proper rest and sleep well. After all, orgasm triggers the release of so many helpful substances: oxytocin, dopamine, serotonin, endorphins...”

The smooth current of his voice, so calm, so steady, so sure, washed over me as an orgasm hit, so intense that it obliterated the cough that wanted to form, my breath coming out in a ragged exhale. L’s fingers kept working as if trying to physically pluck the pleasure into the light. I was floating, mind clouded with a rush of bliss, but I still noticed when L’s weight shifted on the bed, his fingers receding from slick warmth. He curled up next to me again, drawing me into the circle of his arms with his fingers gently rubbing my clit. His nuzzled his cheek lovingly against my own. “Try to go to sleep now, love. When you wake up you can have some more soup.”

My hips bucked toward his hand, clit swollen and sensitive with stimulation even as my eyes drooped tiredly. “I love you.”

“As I love you.”

Already sleepy from my first orgasm, I went limp with euphoria from the second, fading from consciousness in L’s embrace as he peppered chaste kisses onto the side of my neck and stroked my embarrassingly sweaty hair away from my face. Maybe sharing my germs was worth it if it meant I could still fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat or his soft murmurs as he started to recite the details of his last case.

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 14- New World Order

Summary: With the world back to it’s usual business, and the Avenger’s base on a long road to recovery. You and Bucky begin a new chapter in Brooklyn, New York City.

Warning: just fluff really, and some spicy talk maybe a little suggestive themes if you will

Masterlist

It’s been about three months since the events leading up to the dusting of Thanos’ whole army and the death of that giant purple bastard. Ninety-one days since Tony Starks funeral, and 2184 hours since your entire world changed for the better.

Although you’d be a sore liar if you said you didn’t miss your old life with everyone at the Avengers Facility. Even with such a dramatic new change to your life now, you miss Natasha, you miss your late night talks with Steve, and maybe you even miss that little shithead raccoon. But there has been an emerging inner peace with what you gained that just about outweighs your heavy losses.

Someone who’s brought you unconditional love and understanding in your blooming state, someone who’s helped to draw your grief and anguish out of your vessel and transform it into something golden and pure. Your sweet Bucky. If someone last year was to claim at this time you’d be living in an apartment in New York with the love of your life. Well, you’d probably have swiftly made them regret it.

But now, things are better, not one hundred percent fantastic and awesome. But so much better then yourself an entire year ago could ever have even imagined. And that’s good enough for you.

Staring intently down at your little houseplant, you gently spray it with a spray bottle before standing back to admire your caretaking skills. Not too bad. Not too bad at all. Face shifting to that of a stern army general, you get down real close to the leaves so that your face is mere inches from the soaked plant, “I hope you drink this up okay? Bucky thinks I’m gonna kill you and I’m not losing that bet to him. No sir, so don’t you die on me.” The tiny fern keeps silent for obvious reasons at your little pep talk, it’s green leaves protruding beautifully outward as you set the spray bottle onto the countertop.

“He’s gonna owe me fifty dollars if you last till October, and I don’t even care about the money. I just want bragging rights.” You whisper before standing up and wandering over to the living room window.

The city lights are glowing vibrantly in the nights atmosphere, cars and people alike traveling down below your apartment building, oblivious to the whereabouts of two Avengers a couple stories above their very heads. Two ex-assissins. Both products of Hydra. Damn you’ve got a loaded history.

“Y/N! Are you coming!” There’s a long pause of silence from your bedroom that causes you to open your mouth to answer, but before you’re able to say anything in reply, Bucky yells out, “Also I can’t find my white t-shirt, do you know where it is?! Actually never mind I’m going shirtless!”

You let out a humored snort before swiftly turning on your heel and walking down the hallway until you finally reach your bedroom door, “You know we have neighbors right?”

Bucky sends you a shy smile as he disappears into the bathroom for something, “I’m sure this place has thick walls.” He says while flipping up the ceramic toilet seat.

“Uh huh.” You mutter unconvinced, deciding to search his drawers for a spare sleeping shirt.

Noticing your snooping, Bucky finishes up before flushing the toilet and wandering out the door until he’s practically leaning against your shoulder, “Don’t you have clothes?” Questions Bucky with a small chuckle as you throw him a look.

“I need ones to sleep in.” You casually protest as he slowly nods, clearly not getting your admittedly vague point.

“Don’t you have one to sleep in?”

Picking out a grey shirt of his, you shut the dresser before taking off yours, “All my shit got destroyed when Thanos blew up the base. So I’m limited with the stuff I did buy.” He watches as you unintentionally flash him before pulling on his sleep shirt, “And I’m not exactly eager to be out and about right now. I’m still getting used to the new amount of people on this planet. Also I don’t like shopping......or people.”

Bucky nods in understanding as he follows you to the bed, though he can’t quit suppress his chuckles, “Okay fine.”

Throwing the blanket back, you raise a brow at him for that humored yet blunt remark, “Did you not want me to take this one?” You ask, speaking like you’re talking to a little puppy just to tease him more.

Rolling his beautiful blues, Bucky gets into bed as you do the same, “No. Its fine, I don’t actually care.”

Chuckling, you move to sit next to him as he lays on his back, “Good. Cause you’re shirtless and I think I like you better that way. Means I can tickle you easier.”

“Don’t you dare tickle me Y/N or I will lock you out of the bathroom again I swear.” Warns Bucky as he quickly pulls the blanket over his muscular body while you start laughing at him.

“I wasn’t gonna do that. No....definitely not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Huh well, guess you won’t be able to cuddle me then if you don’t trust me...” Throwing the blanket off of him, Bucky quickly engulfs you into his strong arms as you squeak with surprise, pulling you down so that he can be the big spoon for tonight.

“Now you’re trapped.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as his chest pushes at your back when he laughs. He thinks he’s so funny.

Holding his arm that’s pressed against your body, you gently pat it as he hums in content, “Buck, I’m thoroughly enjoying this actually so just keep your arm there, even if it falls asleep you’re not allowed to move it sucker. That’s the rules.”

“Well maybe I like those rules. Sucker.” Chuckles Bucky as you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Now go to sleep, it’s been a long week.”

“Fine.” You mumble into the darkness as a yawn hits you right after. Soon your breaths become steady and calm as you both lay there for another thirty minutes. You are tired, it’s just, something keeps you awake that just can’t be satisfied if you keep going on like this.

“Hey.” You whisper, he gives a low hum in reply, “Buck, I forgot to tell you I have a cat.”

Opening an eye, he gently squeezes your stomach, “You have a cat? Y/N what....how...uh, where is this cat?

“I gave her to Morgan. So I guess she’s technically not mine anymore, I don’t know. Just felt like telling you that.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Anytime.”

The both of you go as silent as ghosts before erupting into a fit of giggles, he buries his face into your hair as his sweet laughter bounces off the walls of your room. Though soon enough does the both of your giggles die down to nothing more then the calming sounds of your breathing.

Your mind dwells with a growing fatigue though your body seems to want something else then slumber, sucking in a soft breath, you hum in thought before whispering, “Bucky.” Just to spark his curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Uh,” Maybe you shouldn’t be asking this and just let him sleep, “how tired are you?” You ask him anyways.

He pauses for a moment before slowly answering with a mumbled, “Tired.”

You hum in acknowledgment, voice low as you answer him, “oh okay.” Immediately sparking his interest.

“Why?” Asks Bucky, intrigued with your slightly disappointed response.

“Nothing, you said you’re tired so we can sleep.”

Bucky’s head rises off of the pillow as he leans over you to try and look at your face, “Well now I wanna know so tell me.” States Bucky in curiosity before catching himself, eyes softer now, “Please.”

Sighing, you purse your lips together, knowing he’s still leaned against your shoulder but deciding to spill anyways as you half-sheepishly whisper, “I’m kinda horny.”

“Kinda?” Chuckles Bucky in an almost teasing manner as you snort.

“Listen you little shithead, I know we did it the other day but I haven’t had sex in five goddamn years give me a break for being a bit horny despite my sleepiness.” You sass, “I’m just, I’ve been feeling a lot of things since you’ve come back. And I yunno, didn’t wanna come off too strong at first so...uh...yeah.”

Bucky hums in thought, “Right, right....yeah.”

Maybe he is too tired? You let out a little huff of slight embarrassment before turning your head to face him better, “It’s just how I’m feeling right now but if you’re too tired that’s really fine with me okay Buc...oh uh...mhmm...” Your worries lost to the wind as his fingers begin slipping underneath your shirt, plush lips pressing feather light kisses against your neck to shut you up from your restless mind. His digits graze over your hardened nibble before Bucky pulls your body flush to his, stubbled chin pressed against your shoulder as he plants a tiny kiss there.

You smile into the darkness when his kisses trail up from from your shoulder to your neck and finally your cheek, he slowly turns you onto your back as his lips plant butterfly kisses all over your face as you begin chuckling at how undeniably adorable he’s being right now. Mhmm hmm you could get used to this.

His arms slip from out of your sleep shirt, soon trapping you to the bed as he hovers over your heavenly vessel, granting you with a plethora of lovely kisses all over your heated skin like he’s exploring you for the first time all over again. Your hands instinctively trail through his shortened dark locks while he draws your legs apart with his muscular torso, doing everything to further spark your growing excitment.

Tonight will indeed be wonderful.

——

Waking up from out of a decently pleasant slumber, you suck in a deep breath to awaken the senses for the day, hands feeling around the rumpled up sheets for your snuggle buddy only to find nothing but an empty bedside. He’s gotten unbelievably good at sneaking out of bed it’s honestly one of the most impressive things he can do.

Your eyes scan the semi-closed window shades to reveal a glowing darkness, it’s only 5:00am, and you know exactly where he’s gone off to even after keeping him up for half the night. Instantly you’ve slipped out of bed, not bothering to turn on the lights as you quietly wander down the hallway until you reach the living room.

Past the small kitchen, and to the left of the single lounge chair, there he is. Snoozing like a meaty log of pure muscle and Vibranium as he lays on a thin blanket flush against the hardware floor. Another blanket covering his lower half as he shifts a bit in his sleep, he’s restless. Your eyes soften at your lover, he’s been doing this recently since Steve left and the world sucked Bucky back into reality. You’ve had plenty of time to adjust of course, but for Bucky, he’s had three months since you two parted from the comfort of Wakanda to live in America as part-time Avengers.

Technically he’s only free from the government and jail time for that matter because he was pardoned by the president and thus was forced to agree upon attending mandated therapy for everything the Winter Soldier did in the past. While you on the other hand were pardoned for war crimes and your involvement with the terrorist organization Hydra because of your status as an Avenger.

Also you’re technically only still allowed to live in the United States because you live with Bucky, who is conveniently from America, so you get a free pass as long as you two plan on residing under the same roof. So it works out for you.

Suddenly his labored breaths quicken and a second later he jolts awake, now drawing himself into a seated position as little beads of sweat shine in the light of the glowing television screen that shows some unimportant sports game.

His chest rises and falls before his blue eyes blink back the vivid fuzziness of his latest nightmare, gaze slowly shifting over to you once he realizes another body is near him. When his irises catch you in the full glow of the tv, he immediately lowers his head in slight embarrassment.

“Did I wake you up again?” Mutters Bucky, almost sounding like he’s mad at himself for letting you find him like this once more.

Shaking your head, you swiftly move to seat yourself at his level before leaning your back against the lounge chair, “You never wake me up Bucky, I think I have a sixth sense for you or something cause when you leave I just know.” You chuckle lightly as he shifts himself closer to you, “Also I miss you next to me.”

His head presses against the corner of the chair as he leans down to leave a light kiss on your shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just.....I don’t want to startle you when I’m having a nightmare and wake up, well, like that.”

Turning to face him, you reach a comforting hand up to gently run it through his shortened dark hair, “You can’t scare me off that easily Barnes. I could probably be classified as the monster under your bed if we’re talking about scary things at night.”

He reveals the ghost of a smile while leaning into your touch, “I know Y/N, it’s just not fair that I do this more then I should. You shouldn’t have to wake up all alone after living like that for five fucking years....I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“oh James..” You whisper while scooting closer so that your bent knees are against his own, hand now snaked down so that you can intertwine your hands with his, “...it’s not your fault the nightmares are coming back. And as much as I miss having you near me, sometimes we all need our space when things get internally rough. I get it, believe me. But don’t ever feel sorry okay? You have nothing to say sorry for, at least not to me alright?”

Bucky nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze while he shows the flash of a smile, “Okay.” Whispers Bucky, eyes falling down to your intertwined fingers before he finds your gaze once more, “Let’s go to bed, the sun will be up soon and I have a therapy session today.”

“Therapy is good for you Bucky.”

He rolls his eyes as you laugh at his annoyed expression, “You are my therapy.” Protests your lover before standing and pulling you up with him.

Hugging his torso affectionately, you smirk up at him, “Wrong answer James.” Holding back a genuine grin, he simply leans down to press his lips against yours. Doing his best to shut you up from further mentioning his required therapy sessions that he absolutely loathes to attend.

——

Hands stuffed deep within your jacket pockets, you wander in step with Bucky who brushes his right arm against yours every couple of steps on the cement sidewalk of Brooklyn. You patiently waited the full forty-five minute session for him, knowing all too well that the second he walked out of there and saw your beautiful face. He’d be significantly less grumpy then before, just as you’d suspected.

Turning your head to face him, he keeps looking straight ahead though he’s aware enough to know you’re about to say something about the session, “You didn’t mention the nightmares did you.” Bucky huffs, annoyed at getting so easily caught by your observant intellect about him. You can read him like a book.

“No.” A blunt answer, he knows there’s no point in lying. “She thinks I need to call more people. Be more social or something.....it’s stupid.” He grumbles to himself though your ears catch it all the same.

You hum in agreement, “Well it wouldn’t kill you to call Sam, I know he tries to text you sometimes...”

“Does he text you?”

“Yeah.” You reply before playfully nudging his arm, “And unlike you, I answer. He’s just a concerned friend, which is nice, you need those kind of people.”

“I don’t need anyone but you Y/N. I’m good, really.”

Rolling your eyes, you snort as he throws you a half offended look, “Babe, I love you. But it’s admittedly a good thing to have other friends other then me. I know this from experience as we both know, so, give him a call sometime okay? For me.”

“Ugh, fine.” He begrudgingly mutters, “But only for you, that’s it.” Smiling brightly at him, you’re about to add something else when the sounds of your friend Yori rings loud in the bustle of the city as he argues with his annoyance of a neighbor, Unique. Something about trash and putting it in the wrong bin.

Bucky soon comes to the rescue and quickly puts an end to the argument before Yori decides to throw hands and gets himself in trouble. The stubborn old man gives up on his yelling and soon Bucky is able to convince him to get lunch with the two of you.

To the sushi place you go.

“Nobody made it past 90 this week.” Says Yori sadly as you lean against Bucky’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the newspaper that he’s holding in one hand while you use your chopsticks to stuff a chunk of sushi in your mouth.

“So young. Such a shame.” Mutters Bucky with a shake of his head while he takes another bite of his meal.

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” Smiles Leah as you take a sip of your water, she loves when you three come in during her shift. Honestly she’s heard a lot of your complaining over the last couple weeks, though it’s usually just about some city annoyance since you don’t want to scare her off with all the real shit you’ve dealt with. You’re trying to make friends after all.

You acknowledge her with a raise of your drink before setting it on the glass counter, “Oh yeah, I like to live a little on the wild side..” You add with a laugh, “..unfortunately I tend to drag them along with me.”

Yori nods, “I enjoy the adventure.” Before pointing to Bucky, “It’s him right here who is scared of getting his feet wet.”

Leah laughs at the adorably confused face of Bucky as he sends the old man a look while you snicker in amusement. “Yori.” Warns Bucky without an once of aggression while you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze of affection.

“What?” Protests Yori, “I am right and you know it. Y/N am I not right?”

“Oh, you’re definitely not wrong.” Bucky pouts as you give his stumbled cheek a light peck, eyes set back onto your delicious sushi as he pretends to be annoyed by you and and Yori’s teasing.

The three of you continue to chomp down on your weekly lunch days meal at the usual sushi spot for another minute longer. Yori’s eyes suddenly sparking with a thought that you know he’s absolutely not going to keep to himself.

“You know what?” Whispers Yori as he leans in closer to Bucky, quit obviously pointing a finger towards you though you simply ignore them as he continues, “You better treat your woman well okay? She’s a good one...Ah I have a perfect idea. You go on a date, like dancing or....or, bingo.” Suggests the old man as your smile grows.

Bucky’s brows furrow as he whispers back, “We’re already dating.”

Yori nods, “You misunderstand my point, you must keep the flame going always okay? Very important, very important. When was the last time you gave her flowers huh? Went to the park? Whooed her..”

“I bought her a plant.” Says Bucky defensively as he side eyes you, “I, I whoo her.”

The old man smiles, “Good, good. That’s how you keep them around for a long time. Don’t forget that, I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sure you do.” Mumbles Bucky as you suppress the urge to laugh at their adorable conversation about how to treat a significant other right. That significant other being you.

——

Seated crisscrossed on the wooden floor of yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, a single thin blanket underneath you, your eyes squint suspiciously at Bucky like you don’t believe a single thing he’s saying. He’s seated on a pillow across the small coffee table, raising a dark brow at you while he holds back a growing smirk.

Your eyes soon shift down to the board before slowly trailing over his forced stoic face, “Well, Mr. Barnes....you’re a strong captain I’ll admit. But I am a skilled sea traveler of my own. E7.” His blue irises flicker down to his board, expression shifting ever so slightly in irritation, you got him.

Biting his lip, his hands move from behind the plastic board of the game that you can’t see, “How about that.” States Bucky with a genuinely impressed nod, “You sunk my battleship.”

Instantly your hands ball into fists, ��Yessss.” You whisper joyously as your eyes squint in happiness for your first ever win against the literal master of Battleship. “Ha ha sucker! I won! I fucking won!” You shout with passion as he leans back on one arm to watch you jump up into a theatrical victory dance. God he loves you so much. You dangerous little goofball.

Swinging your arm dramatically in a circle, you shake your hips before winding down your dramatics to wander on over to Bucky who’s still seated on the floor, shimmering blues never leaving yours. Smirking victoriously, you crouch down to meet his humored gaze, “I think I deserve a prize.....and by prize I mean you get me those gummy worm things from the corner store. I deserve it after all.”

He tilts his head, the corners of his mouth rising as his eyes flicker to your lips for a brief moment, “Do you now?” He smiles lovingly though a sudden mischief sparkles in his eyes.

“Yes. This was the first time I ever won so I definitely deserve some type of reward for my efforts.” You state justly, eyes narrowing as you add, “Or I will battle you, and I’m not talking about the game.”

Bucky tilts his head up, an alluring smile playing at his plush pink lips while his eyes flicker to your mouth once again, oh he is certainly not going to get you naked in an attempt at swaying your mind from those gummies. You’re an ex-assassin who deserves some damn gummies every once in awhile. And his ass is gonna get you them, it’s only fair after all.

“Y/N.” Coos Bucky in that sultry voice of his, metal hand reaching up to touch your beautiful face, but as his fingers come within an inch of your precious skin. You shoot a hand up to clasp against his in an iron grip, blue eyes immediately going big when you tuck and roll. Taking his whole body with you.

In the swift aftermath, you’re able to skillfully pin him to the ground with relative ease. Both your hands pressed firmly against his naked wrists as you lean your face mere inches from his own, “I warned you, didn’t I?” You tease playfully as he breaks out into an inviting grin.

“I have something else in mind that you’ll absolutely love.” Assures Bucky with a telling expression that does nothing to hide the lust that flashes through them.

“In that case, pin me to the floor. And I’m all yours for the evening.” You whisper slyly as he practically shivers underneath your touch, “But if I win, you gotta travel two blocks for those delicious bitches. Khorosho, lyubov' moya?” You add in your native tongue of Russian, translating to “okay, my love” before pressing your forehead against his, eyeing him up like a bull ready to fight.

Bucky lets out a little sigh, something between annoyance and pleasure, “Fine. But you’re going dow...” Your lips crash against his in a hot second of passion before you quickly pull away, letting go of his wrists as you move to stand in a defensive position nearby.

Slowly blinking, he lets out a little huff before pulling himself to his full height, eyes trailing over you as he raises a brow, “Now that wasn’t fair.”

You casually shrug, “What wasn’t fair? We made a deal Barnes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at your teasing, “You know what I...okay, okay. We’re really doing this?”

You shrug at his adorable expression, “You either have to walk 2 blocks in the dark for my treat, or a night of undeniably fantastic sex is within your reach. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, it’s the principle of the thing here. So, I’m going to fight you James Buchanan Barnes.” Oh and you used his full name too, Bucky knows without a doubt, it’s on.

He reveals a little smirk at that, “Guess I don’t have much of a choice. Hmm alright hot stuff let’s do this.” Muses your lover as he draws his hands up into fists, ever so slowly approaching you like a wary predator to their opposing rival. Not so sure if this is going to be a fight he can win or not, well, it sure won’t be an easy one.

When he’s within arms reach, you swiftly duck under his swift jab to your right arm, shooting a leg out to push him away from you while your body twists around to meet him. “Cheap shot.” Mumbles Bucky, calculated gaze studying your every movement as you slowly wander closer to him.

Looking as innocent as ever, “I want some gummy worms, I’ll break you little man.” Accent dripping with every word, further arousing Bucky though he tries to play it off with a laugh and a shake of his head.

Soon the two of you engage in a swiftly heated battle of hand to hand combat showing your admittedly intense skills of what only a former assassin could display so fluidly. Your two bodies moving like seasoned dancers across the hardwood flooring of your apartment, though you’re surprisingly able to keep relatively quiet as he blocks your fists. Can’t disturb those pesky neighbors.

Bucky shifts left just as you narrowly scrape your right elbow against his shoulder with a high jab from your elbows desperate upper cut, you slide on the hardwood under the false presumption that he’s out of reach when his flesh arm swings out to catch you in your stomach with a loud hollow thud. Ouch!

Instantly your throat emits a strange squeak as you feel the air knocked out of your precious lungs, clearly you had not anticipated this turn of events and neither does Bucky who immediately looks like he just accidentally stepped on a puppies little paw. “Y/N!” Worries Bucky with wide eyes as you keep hunched over, trying to suck in some needed oxygen.

Pulling some air into your lungs, you pretend to hobble over to the couch like a beaten down boxer, “Mm hmgood, yep.” You rasp out, resting your upper half on the couch as Bucky quickly approaches your side. But before he’s able to lay a comforting hand onto your shoulder, you swing a decorative pillow right at his head.

The puffy fabric knocks him onto his ass, earning a surprised grunt in the process as you tower above him, smirking like a trickster goddess over a poor lost and lonely traveler. Bucky rubs his reddened cheek, brows furrowed as he whines, “Y/N.” Like a little child who just got something taken from them by another kid.

Smirking a satisfied grin, you kneel down to meet his level, raising up a hand to gently draw his chin upwards to face you better, “That hurt you dickhead.” You muse as Bucky pouts, “ Y/N, I didn’t mean too..”

“I know.” You chuckle, “Now make it better.” You slyly add with a suggestive implication in your tone that causes Bucky to raise a brow. Letting go of his stubbled chin, you seat yourself onto the floor, facing Bucky as he reaches his metal hand out to pull you in closer to him.

Just about shoulder to shoulder with him, he gently presses his Vibranium hand to your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, soon the two of you lock lips with one another as his other hand snakes around to pull you onto him.

Ever so gently do you follow him to the floor as he continues to passionately make out with you like there’s no tomorrow. Metal and flesh hand feeling you up from your breasts to your bum as you straddle your man, hands trailing through his shortened hair while he fully enjoys this new positioning and turn of events.

Bucky presses wet kisses all around your cheeks and lips while he begins nonchalantly unbuttoning your pants, clearly hoping this will continue further and that all thoughts of those delicious gummy worms are out the door. You won’t lie to yourself though, caging Bucky’s thick torso underneath your opened legs is an admittedly pleasant experience to say the least.

So when he snakes his hands up under your shirt and starts messaging your breasts through the fabric of your bra, your mind begins thinking of some other things a bit more important then some simple treat from the local corner store. He knows just how to turn his favorite lover into a pile of puddy with nothing more then his mouth and fingers. This little shithead isn’t even inside you yet, you’re not even naked for goodness sakes!

But alas, a bet is a bet, and you don’t like to lose. Smirking into the kiss, and holding back a moan as Bucky’s digits squeeze your soft breasts, you tug on his hair before pulling away from his pleasantly inviting lips. Earning a palpable pout of confusion from your man, who’s noticeably grown hard against your bum.

“Y/N?”

“Bucky.” You tease back, imitating his voice once again as he throws you a puzzled look, “Don’t give me that shit Barnes I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what am I trying to do?” Sasses Bucky as he rests his hands onto either side of your hips.

You raise a brow down at him, “These shenanigans.”

Bucky smiles, head falling back onto the floor as he laughs, “That’s not, no I’m not doing any shenanigans I swear....I just, maybe I just want to show my girl how much I love her.” Replies Bucky, though you stay unconvinced.

“We had a deal remember?”

“Yeah well, none of us won so..”

“Oh really?” You challenge, “Then why are you on your back and I’m right here as the victorious one? Who by the way has earned her gummy worms fair and square James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky groans, “oh come on Y/N....I can’t go now. Have some pity on me please?”

“And why not?”

He gently gives your hips an affectionate squeeze, “Because, my beautiful she-wolf who I love so very much and cherish every day of my life forever and alw..”

“Get to the point I want those damn gummies.” You threaten with a stern look though he knows you don’t truly mean it of course, but he has successfully annoyed you. “What is the problem this time?”

Bucky throws you a sheepish grin as he takes one of your hands in his, “Because I’m hard.” Sincere and straight to the point.

Pursing your lips together in amused irritation, you remove his hand from your hip, “Well, you did that to yourself babe I can’t help how amazing I am just existing. Really get over yourself.” You playfully tease before standing above him as his eyes never once leave your beautiful face, “Those gummies aren’t going to buy themselves.”

Bucky sighs dramatically shaking his head as he whispers, “You’re a monster of the greatest evil.” Smiling like a lovestruck idiot despite his neutrally spoken words.

You chuckle, stepping over him to pick up a pillow, “That’s me. Now don’t give me a reason to show you my claws.”

He quickly rises to his full height, another fallen pillow in hand as he tries to hide his hardened member behind it like some shitty magic act, “I’m just, I’m gonna hold this pillow for you. Not important why.”

“Uh huh.” You muse as he watches you clean up Battleship, putting all the pieces away and into the particular box before shoving it underneath the couch. When you go to fold the furniture's decorative blanket, a knock is heard at the door.

“Not it.” Mutters Bucky as you throw him an annoyed glance, already aware of who this is by their familiar scent. You walk over to the door and open it as Bucky hides in the background, pillow still covering his tented crotch.

“Hello Mrs. Brego you need help with your windows again?” You speak in Italian to your neighbor from down the hall. The old woman smiles before giving you a little shake of her head indicating a no.

“No dear, just telling you there’s cops downstairs for that guy from Chicago I think, so if you plan on going out. I wouldn’t choose tonight, the whole lobby is filled with people I think he might have been into drugs.” Warns the sweet old woman as you slowly nod, knowing all to well that Bucky most certainly heard everything.

Faking a smile, you shrug, “Wasn’t planning on going out tonight anyways. Well, thanks again. See you when I see you.” She smiles brightly before turning to walk down the hallway and into her own apartment, you watch until she shuts her door just to make sure nothing bad happens on your time.

Feeling comfortable that’s she’s fine, you shut and lock the door, pursing your lips as you turn around to face a smirking Bucky. He’s still holding the pillow against his junk, but he looks incredibly full of himself standing there with that stupidly handsome face of his. Those eyes. That smile. His body......no, focus.

Bucky goes to open his mouth but before he can say something sarcastic you throw a hand up to stop him, “Not a word.” You deadpan before turning to walk down the hallway, stopping yourself to glance over your shoulder, “Give me five minutes and then you can come to bed. But you better be naked or else.”

Bucky snorts as you practically swagger down the short hallway and into your shared bedroom. Closing the door as you prepare yourself for a late night of adventuring each others bodies.

Oh tonight will be something indeed.

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey @thescarlettvvitch

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #bucky fanfic

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jeonqquk · 4 years

Text

racket | jjk

↳pairing: jungkook x reader ↳genre/tags: badmintonplayer!jungkook and badmintonplayer!reader, barely any badminton related stuff, rushed asf, accidental confession-?, they dont even kiss wtf ↳rating: everyone <3 ↳wc: 6k

Jeon Jungkook was capable of being the eighth wonder of the world. He may not have come into existence in the 1700s but his ability to do almost everything perfectly was bewildering. Whether it be eating an entire cake in the span of a half-hour or defeating even the coaches at badminton.

Everybody loved Jungkook, his sweet and caring nature paired with those godly features attracted everyone to him- in many ways. Unfortunately, you weren’t part of the everybody lot.

You hated Jungkook. Absolutely despised his abhorrent ass. So much so that if he were the last person alive, you’d even kill yourself just to stay away from him. But that was highly unlikely, so you weren’t going to kill yourself.

The hatred had just always been there, his competitive side seeming fucking atrocious to you. The feeling was mutual, though, so you didn’t feel as guilty as you would’ve if you just detested him while he behaved politely with you.

Jungkook was petty, even you knew that by now. His competitiveness always getting the better of him and turning him into someone with a completely different persona. Losing was not something he was used to. Maybe that’s why he had only a handful of friends, he would do anything to win. It could be a silly bet or even a tournament- Jungkook just had to win.

All the people he was friends with though, their relationship was beautiful. There were only 4 or 5 boys he actually got along with and their adoration for each other could be seen by anybody.

This wouldn’t have been a problem if you weren’t also as competitive as him. You’re technically in no position to say that Jungkook’s hatred towards losing was unhealthy because you hated it too. You thought it made you seem weak, incapable- and you supposed that it was the same reason as to why the youngest Jeon son hated losing as well but you never tried understanding him. Let alone let him speak for a minute if he was in a 10-foot-radius of you.

It was better this way, you thought. It was better to hate him than actually trying to befriend him and catching those unwanted feelings. Hating Jungkook was simpler, easier. Or so you thought for the 10 years of the two of you attending the same badminton academy. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the two of you were in the same class at college as well. So you had to deal with his annoying self for the larger part of the day.

It was around a month before the annual badminton tournament of your state and obviously, you and Jungkook were taking part in it, more intent on defeating each other rather than the opposing teams. This wouldn’t work though, your coach had called the two of you after practice one day and had said “Listen, Jungkook, Y/n. I know that you’re both really good players and also hate each other.” he sighs, “I’m not asking you to befriend each other, no. I just want the two of you to get along for the tournament. For the sake of our school.” The coach makes a pleading face and you just nod, looking over at Jungkook to see his reaction. He hums and looks down.

After the coach has walked away, you look at Jungkook again, getting ready to tell him that this wasn’t really going to affect the way you behaved with him but he beats you to it, his voice reaching your ears as your lips stay parted midway.

“So, I guess...no more arguing?” Jungkook finally looks at you with a slightly questioning face and you’re left momentarily blank, his proposition seeming so out of character that you’re at a loss for words. This wasn’t expected out of Jungkook. What was expected was that he would just scoff before glaring at you for no reason and stalking away. Him asking you if you wanted to stop the childish arguments the two of you had was not expected.

It takes you a minute to comprehend that Jeon Jungkook was actually trying to put an end to those mini-wars of yours. Your reply is dumb “Uh- okay.” You’re still in a daze from what he said and it’s only when he snaps his fingers in front of your face that you immediately want to spit out a sassy remark but bite your tongue on it, not wanting to disregard Jungkook’s suggestion just after seconds of it having come out of those pink lips of his.

Not knowing what to do, you nod and turn around to get into the locker rooms before heading home. You’re oblivious to the fact that Jungkook almost called your name, wanting to talk to you more, he didn’t know why, but decided against it. You wouldn’t accept the offer anyway.

The walk back to your house is quiet, you’re humming a random tune and there aren’t many vehicles on the road, except for school buses dropping kids home. Unlocking the door, you step into your house and close it behind you before keeping your bag in your room and changing out of your clothes. After all that is done, you check the time and see that it’s 3:18 pm, you have around 2 hours before badminton coaching and suddenly feeling motivated, you heat up some leftover pizza and walk into your room to paint something.

You may not be good at art, you admitted that without any shame because there were a lot of other things you could perform flawlessly. Playing badminton, whining and being able to smell any fried food from miles away to name a few. But you didn’t want to do art because you’d get good at it or something, it was something you genuinely enjoyed and the comments from other people didn’t matter as long as you were satisfied with yourself. And that meant your circles not looking like amoeba.

You take out a drawing book that had been laying in the third drawer of your desk for months and dig up some paintbrushes and watercolour tubes you had left before sitting at your desk to finally start your work. You let your fingers guide you, not thinking much about what you were doing and what the outcome would be. Occasionally dusting your hands from the pizza crumbs, you were quite focused on your work.

30 minutes later, you’re leaning back in your chair and surveying your painting. Woah, it looks pretty-

Wait is that fucking Jungkook you see? “Huh?” your forehead is creased in perplexity, did you just paint a goddamn Jungkook? It looks like Jungkook, though...the bambi eyes and that tiny pout on his lips. How did you-

You were so confused right now. What were you thinking? Well, you obviously weren’t thinking.

Wow. Apparently, you had drawn Jungkook, your sworn enemy, without knowing. Not knowing what to do with the average portrait that didn’t do any justice to his actual features, you quickly clean up your stuff and keep it all back in its respective drawers.

It’s now 4 and you get out your books to get some homework done before leaving for coaching. Ugh. You’d have to see Jungkook there too. You wonder how he’ll behave with you, hopefully, he won’t come anywhere near you.

Sighing as you finish the assignments before stretching back in your chair, you get up to change into your sports clothes before grabbing your bag and water bottle, looking at yourself once in the mirror before walking out towards the pleasantly close by badminton academy you had grown way too accustomed to.

Upon reaching the building, you walk through the reception and smile at the elderly lady who sits there every day. You push the door that leads to the courts and walk on the side, greeting your friends that were warming up. You don’t see Jungkook anywhere right now so that’s a good sign and you bow slightly at your coach in respect although the many years of being taught by the man have obviously gotten the two of you very close. Your bag is kept near a bench in its usual place and you put on the shoes you could wear only on the badminton courts before picking a corner on the side of the court and begin stretching.

You’re walking to get your racquet when you see Jungkook jogging up to your coach, saying something to him with an apologetic look before getting a playful shove from sir as he nods towards the benches where Jungkook would most probably keep his stuff and do some quick exercises before joining the rest of you.

Said boy’s gaze meets yours and he smiles. You don’t reciprocate the gesture, scoffing and moving over to Jihye who’s already looking at you with a cheeky smile adorning her face. “What?” you question, not understanding why she was acting so weird “Don’t pretend you don’t know.” she gives you a playful shove to which you reply by tch-ing and rolling your eyes, done with her childish behaviour. “Seriously Jihye what th-”

“I saw Jungkook smile at you.”

The look on your face is an accurate representation of what you were thinking right now. So what? That smile was nothing, he was just acting upon what he had said earlier. “Yeah, so?” you reply boredly, watching as Jihye’s mouth open wide- wide enough for her to fit her entire fist inside.

“Yeah, so? Are you shitting me Y/n? Jeon Jungkook just smiled at you and you didn’t even do anything in response?” you’re still watching her blankly. Although you admit that it’s not her fault entirely, even you were shocked, very shocked when he first told you about the no-more-fighting pact.

“He just said that we shouldn’t argue now, because the coach at school said that it was going to be bad for our team. You know, in the tournament.” you simply shrug, trying not to make a big deal out of the fact and Jihye is about to reply before the coach is calling all of you for a shadow drill.

Shit.

You are given one side of a court and by some way or the other, Jungkook is opposite to you, his black pants sticking to those fleshy thighs so deliciously and hi-

What?

What is wrong with you? You’ve been thinking about Jungkook unconsciously- first drawing him and now this. Get a grip Y/n.

The whistle of your coach sounds throughout the entire room and your chain of thoughts is broken as your run towards the left side of the net from your position in the centre of the court before picking up one of the shuttles and running back to the centre, moving to the right side of the net now and doing the same as you continue the drill. Jungkook is swift, his feet are balanced and he still manages to look so graceful as he runs around his side of the court.

You’re finally done with all the corners of the court twice as you move to sit in the space between the two different courts as you pant. The two people who were waiting now go to your and Jungkook’s positions as they begin the shadows drill now. You’re surprised to see that Jungkook has opted to sit next to you, you with your bright pink skirt sticking to your skin in all its glory.

“Hi.” he smiles and turns towards you with his hand outstretched in front of your form. With a questioning look on your face, you shake his hand. How far was he planning on going when he said that the two of you wouldn’t be having those silly arguments anymore? To you, it meant that the pair of you would just stick to your own places and not interact with each other or do anything that would result in the bickering to resume.

“Hey..?” Jungkook retracts his hand, leaving yours in mid-air. “So you uh wanna like hang out..um..like somewhere?” This boy had been taking you by surprise too much lately, why would he randomly ask you to hang out?

Sure he had said that he didn’t want the two of you having those little fights anymore but this? This was unexpected- really fucking unexpected.

“Uh...so suddenly?” he slightly frowns “Why? Are you uncomfortable with it? That’s totally fine though!”

Jungkook was being too friendly, a little too friendly, you were confused and shocked at his tactics but tried not to show it on your face. “I mean, yeah, okay.” The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could even realise it and his face was now bright. His smile so sweet, you feel a cavity forming and he nods. “Cool! After practice then..? He trails off, suddenly hesitant and you’re still dumbfounded by how quickly things had taken a turn, for the better you supposed.

Not even a day ago, the two of you were ready to claw the other’s eyes out and now, you were agreeing to go out with him. This is not a date though. Jungkook and you are just going out to bond as friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Nodding, you smile lightly, trying to reduce some of the awkwardness from your face as you suggest a cafe to meet up at.

Practice is over and you are walking out of the academy with Jihye chattering beside you. “Oh! I almost forgot, so about that Jungkook thing. I saw the two of you talking also.” she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, or that’s what she thinks it looks like. Turning to face her, you sigh at her usual habit of sticking her nose into others’ business and tell her simply that he had just asked you to meet up at the cafe so you could just chill.

“Holy shit, it’s a date!” Jihye seems more excited about the meet-up, not date, her hands coming up to join in front of her chest as she looks at you in bewilderment. “Why are you so passive?” your friend is way too excited for something so normal but then again, this was you and Jungkook. The two of you could never go a day without insulting the other before. Now you were meeting up with the same guy at a cafe in another hour or so. When you tell Jihye this, she stops walking, putting her hand on the left side of her chest- where her heart was. Her dramatic behaviour was now normal now and you knew the reason for her overreaction.

Your love life was drier than the Sahara Desert in a fucking draught. You had been on just a handful of dates in your entire existence, only 5 or 6 of them ending up with you fucking the guy. The others had just been awkward, mainly because of your edgy self.

It wasn’t that big of a problem though, you were too occupied by your college work and badminton tournament preparations that anything else just seemed like a waste of time. For instance, instead of going out with some guy, you could stay home and binge-watch Stranger Things. There were a lot more practical things that could be done without the company of males.

The only reason you agreed to go out with Jungkook was that you wanted to see how it would end up. There was a very slim chance that your meeting would go very well but if Jungkook kept behaving as sweet as he was now, you wouldn’t even have a solid reason to be rude to the poor fellow. Nevertheless, you were not going to completely relax because one never knows.

“I’m coming over to pick out your outfit!” Jihye is excited, jumpy because this is new- you going out with someone of the opposite gender. And although it was completely normal for someone else, you just looked at your friend judgmentally, feigning annoyance and earning a light shove from her that has you stumbling on the sidewalk.

“‘Kay'” she squeals when you agree and invites herself to your house, saying that you should take a shower while she picks out your outfit. You trusted her though, Jihye’s fashion sense was really good and you knew for a fact that whatever she would pick out would be trendy.

Unlocking your house with the bronze key, you walk in and keep your bag in its place before walking to get a glass of water for Jihye and yourself. She accepts and plops down on your couch before you pull her up by the arm, a disgusted look on your face. “Go wash up first.” she pouts but heads into the bathroom near the hallway nonetheless to wash up. You shout to her from your room that you’re heading to shower and she shouts back an “Alright.” from downstairs as you open the door, heading in for a steamy shower.

40 minutes later, you’re getting out of your bathroom, content, to Jihye’s shrieking. Something along the lines of missing the date and you roll your eyes when you hear the last word. It was not a date for God’s sake!

You nonchalantly nod at no one in particular and apply your cream before heading out in a bathrobe. She’s sitting on your bed with some outfits placed on your bed. At first glance, they all look colour-coordinated with some accessories here and there but upon closer inspection, you see that every piece of clothing on your mattress was one of the shortest you had in every category.

“Do you want me to look like a slut?” you ask with your arms folding in front of your chest, and Jihye looks at you with wide eyes, offended that you even had the nerve to comment on her outfit-picking skills.

“No! These are all fine for a meet-up.” She uses finger quotes for the last word and you smile to yourself, “Uh, let me just stop you there. I don’t really know what people mean when they use this.” you make the finger quotes and she gasps “Did you just-” your shoulders raise and as the laughter dies down, you walk closer to the bed, mentally evaluating each outfit she had oh so carefully picked. They’re all really stylish, you gotta admit that but you’d never say it to her face. The one closest to the headboard consists of a full-sleeved plain white turtleneck that had a greyish-brown dress that reached your mid-thigh laid on top of it. It was something you could wear, maybe with some electric pink leggings. You see that Jihye, who is now rummaging in your collection of shoes, has also laid some black boots in front of the bed that matched the first dress.

Your gaze travels to the one on the middle one and you immediately furrow your eyebrows, already ruling the strapless crop top and ripped shorts out. Too much skin.

The one to the far left is also decided to not be inappropriate for the occasion as you didn’t think Jungkook would want to see you in a burgundy top with spaghetti straps. The jeans that had too many huge holes in them didn’t even look cool at this point. What were you thinking when you bought this.

Jihye comes out with some heels for one of the outfits “Why are you even putting so much effort into this? I can just wear a shirt and sweats.” She huffs out, unamused, as you giggle at her annoyed face. “Kidding. So, I really like this one.” you point at the dress and she smiles slyly “Showing off your long legs I see.” Punching her shoulder, you make some place to sit on the bed, glad that you shaved today. “Now, get out of my room. I need to change and apply make-up.” She nods and you watch her close the door behind her, getting up to lock it for extra safety measures.

Not like she was gonna barge in and catch you in your star printed underwear anyways. Changing into the turtle neck and then the dress, you look at yourself in the mirror and if it wasn’t your frizzy hair, you would even think you looked cute. You brush your hair and settle for a high ponytail. Putting on your shoes, you apply a little bit of make-up, not wanting to seem overly eager but the excessive amount of perfume may or may not give you away.

As you open the door and walk down to where Jihye has changed into some sweats she had kept in your house for times like these, she gasps upon seeing you, chip almost falling out her mouth and chews it before widening her eyes comically “Babe! You look so good.” you smile at her compliment, giving her a twirl as she gets up to probably to hug you before deciding against it, shaking her head.

“So, is my make-up looking fine?” she nods furiously and you pick up your purse that was on the dining chair before looking at the clock to see that you only have ten minutes before Jungkook arrives. You bid Jihye goodbye, not worried in the slightest bit about her being alone at your house.

As you’re walking, the cafe comes into view and you spot a familiar figure walking into the shop as well and you increase your speed to enter at the same time as Jungkook to make it seem as if you weren’t even slightly late. He doesn’t notice you even when you’re right behind him and walks to a table to sit down as you sit opposite him immediately, realising that he had walked to a two-people table in the corner of the shop.

His eyes widen and he stutters out in shock, “O-Oh, you’re here,” Nodding, you hide a smile and greet him back, trying not to get into an argument with him. It’s silent for a while, you think of anything to say to break the awkward atmosphere but just as you’re looking up from the ground to speak to Jungkook, his voice is filling your ears. “Do you want to order?” He waits and you simply nod, “Okay, I’ll come to get my coffee.”

Just as you’re getting up, Jungkook keeps his hand on you without warning, head shaking frantically. “No! I mean, I can get it for you.” Looking up in surprise, you’re unable to speak for a moment. Did Jeon Jungkook just say that he would buy you coffee?

You shake your head and snap out of your trance. Or at least you try to. “No, it’s alright. I can get it myself.” Jungkook rushes to quieten you again and looks like he won’t let you win, so you sigh and back down. “Fine.” He giggles and walks off to the counter while you take your phone out to kill time. Getting bored when you see that there are not any notifications, you switch the device off and look out of the window, watching as people get out of their cars for a pitstop at the cafe before driving away again.

“Here are the coffees.” You turn your head and see Jungkook setting two cups of coffee on the table before sitting himself. Looking at what he got you, you thank him for bringing the correct order and he just sends a light smile in your direction, rubs his hands together and picks up the cup with both hands. You almost coo, but hold yourself together. This was your enemy.

That reminds you, “So, why are you suddenly being so kind to me? It’s really weird to experience you treating me nicely.” You hadn’t meant for your tone to come off as accusing, but it does, and you have to watch Jungkook’s eyes flash with hurt for a second before shaking his head lightly. He places his cup back in the small saucer and his hands on either side of it.

“I knew you would ask me this.” egging him on with a raise of your eyebrows, you take a sip of your coffee “Remember how Coach said that we should stop arguing?” At your nod, he licks his lips and continues on with his explanation, “Well, I thought about it-” “You told me to stop arguing right after he left.” “I thought about it and I decided that we really shouldn’t be having these fights. Like, what’s the point? I’m not getting anything out of it. You’re not getting anything out of it.” He ignores your words and when you hear his, ask yourself why you hadn’t tried to put a stop to the childish arguments you had with Jungkook.

You don’t know why you ever fought back. Well, you did hate losing and Jungkook did everything to rile you up- so he was at fault too- but there was no specific reason as to why you hated Jungkook so much. “I don’t know, you were the one who started them. I don’t have a problem with becoming friends.”

Jungkook looks at you, looking as if he’s trying to figure something out, pouty lips looking kissable but you quickly brush those thoughts off. “So..” his hands come closer to yours and you’re shocked to feel your heart starting to beat faster, its pace picking up as Jungkook’s hand comes closer to yours. “..friends?” his pinky intertwines with yours and you feel your face turn red, the action igniting something in you.

Looking down at your fingers intertwined seems to be a big mistake as you gasp, the sight just overwhelming you. His hand fit in yours perfectly, and even if he meant it just as friends, you couldn’t help but imagine how it would be to be loved by Jungkook.

No! You two just started behaving normally around each other and you’re already thinking about loving him?

A voice in your head sounds as Jungkook retrieves his hand to pick up the call that had distracted you. You take your hand back and keep it in your lap, tingling sensations till lingering.

Jungkook looks at you apologetically for a second, and you reassure him that he could take the call but he tells whoever was on the other side of the line that he was busy, cutting the call after he told the person that he would call them back later.

“Sorry about that.” you barely catch his mumble and shake your head, “Don’t worry.” As you finish your coffee and make small talk with Jungkook about random things, you start growing more comfortable around him, cracking jokes and laughing at his lame ones. You’re discussing some things about the upcoming tournament when Jungkook suddenly leans in closer.

You move back out of shock and he stills, eyes suddenly going wide as his breathing halts. Your own starts getting heavy, his sudden action having caught you terribly off guard. After partially having gained your composure back, you see that Jungkook is still in the same position, “J-Jungkook?” He takes a moment to snap out of whatever trance he was put in and blinks once, twice before gasping loudly and jerking backwards. His back hits the chair and his mouth is still open in shock at what he did.

“S-Sorry..” he trails off, chewing his lip and your eyes follow the motion carefully before darting them back to his face quickly. He furrows his brows and starters ahead of you before shaking his head, murmuring something to himself. “You ok there?” you try to keep your voice soft, soothing as Jungkook shifts his gaze to you, wide eyes looking absolutely adorable.

You question him again, worried, “What wa-” “I like you.”

Silence.

You sputter, his words having caught you off guard and if Jungkook’s eyes could go any wider, they do, his hand instantly coming to slap over his face and he curses, “I-fuck.” You’re still shocked by his confession and your brain takes time to process what he said, the three simple words not registering in your mind until suddenly, Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the present.

“Y-Y/n?” He sounds hesitant, and your face must be an accurate representation of what you’re feeling right now because Jungkook begins speaking again, his eyes filled with worry as he tries to fix his mistake. “No. I mean, yes, I like you-” Your face portrays horror at his words again and he rushes to correct himself, hitting himself on the head once.

“You what?” Your voice is hushed for unknown reasons and Jungkook looks around, trying to calm himself down by breathing in and out and you use the time to do the same, the initial shock having worn off as you exhale loudly and take a bite out of the cookie from the small plate he had gotten.

“I like you, Y/n.” Jungkook’s tone is more serious this time, and you try maintaining a straight face, his words finally sinking and you choke on your saliva. “Like like me?” you question dumbly and he nods desperately, licking his lips and drumming his fingers on the table, a nervous habit of his.

“Oh,” Jeongguk tilts his head at your response and you muster the courage to ask him a question that had been lingering on your mind ever since he confessed. “Since..?”

He coughs loudly into his mouth, trying to hide the blush that creeps up his cheeks and looks at you with a suddenly brave gaze, “I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/n. The reason I started annoying was because I wanted you to notice me, not because I disliked you...And better confess now instead of regretting not doing anything before right?” Your mouth is left hanging at his confession now, the real reason for his pestering finally coming out into the light.

“Why would you annoy me, though? You could've just come up and talked to me, it would've been way easier for us.” At this, Jeongguk blushes, trying to cover his burning cheeks from you and cups his face in his hands. “I don’t know..you were really annoying, to be honest.”

“I was annoying- you asshole!” You lean over and hit his arm, much to his chagrin and he frowns before swatting your arm away. Silence falls over the two of you, but it's not the awkward kind, you just sit quietly, drowning yourself in thoughts about Jungkook.

“So…” Beside you, Jungkook shifts shyly and lowers his head when you look at him, the sight igniting something warm inside you. “Can I ask to ask you out?” His hair sits prettily atop his forehead, hands on his lap and his lips are scrunched into the cutest pout.

“Why don’t you ask me and find out?” You aim for a teasing tone, but miss by a mille, instead sounding breathless and at this, Jungkook smiles before leaning in closer. “Will you go on a date with me?”

Even though you knew he was going to ask you, the words still send tingles throughout your entire body, heart racing and you nod before you can even think.

It has you suddenly thinking about the drastic turn of events. The guy who was once (not even a few hours ago) your biggest enemy had just confessed to you and was asking you out. You’re thinking if it was a bad decision, but with Jungkook looking so innocent and just, like a child, it’s hard to think straight. Your heart beats erratically as Jungkook gives you one last soft smile before getting up and walking to pay, and you try chasing him and stopping him from paying for both your and his drinks but as much as you want to, you’re still stuck in place, everything that happened recently replaying in your head. He comes back in a few minutes and holds out his hand for you to take, and as you’re getting up with his help, your heart can’t help but flutter, the feeling of his warm hand encompassing yours turning you mushy like dough.

“Seriously?” You can’t help but scoff, and beside you Jungkook lets go of your hand to feign an offended face. “What! You said you liked Call of Duty!” Jungkook defends himself and you stare blankly at the venue of your first official date with Jeon Jungkook.

The baby pink blankets that adore his couch look inviting, so do the various snacks on the coffee table but still, this was your first date. You had really expected him to go all out and take you to dinner at a classy restaurant. And then maybe have ended with a drumline playing on a bridge. Ok, maybe that was too much.

This doesn’t mean that you’re disappointed, though. Nope. This- a date on Jungkook’s couch with Call of Duty and snacks- was perfectly fine. Great, even. You finally crack a smile, nudging his shoulder and muttering a ‘Just kidding.’ under your breath when his face turns sad.

You grab his arm and sit on the couch, patting the space beside you for him to occupy as you shuffle through the unhealthy packs of chips and nachos to find your favorite one. Jungkook grabs a drink and you shuffle under the soft blanket, curling up and look at Jungkook, trying to act cute as you prepare to embarrass yourself.

“Cuddle with me?” Jungkook almost spits his drink out, surging forward as his head turns towards your direction you’re positive he gets whiplash. “W-What-Did you..” Nodding, you try pouting but know for a fact that it looks more awkward than cute and huff out, “Just-” Jungkook nods suddenly, “Ok.” and gets under the covers. Your face heats up when you finally realise that you just asked The Jeon Jungkook™ to cuddle with you, and as he ever so slowly crawls towards you, your body turns stiff.

“I-Is this okay?” Jungkook hovers his hand over your waist and as you look at him with wide eyes, you nod lightly, indicating the green signal, his body heat not helping at all. Jungkook’s soft voice filters through your ears, and you swear you could listen to him forever. Even if he was making fun of your obsession with hard peaches. Yes.

“We can watch a movie if you want..and then play COD?” he suggests and you mumble out a “Sure” and watch as he picks up the remote to scroll through the various apps whose subscriptions he had.

He pauses at Netflix. “Can we watch Full House?” his voice is timid, and you turn to furrow your eyebrows at him, wondering why he would seem hesitant while asking that. Everyone loved Michelle.

“Why not?” At your words, Jungkook’s eyes light up and he smiles widely, turning towards the TV to play the show.

You rip open a packet of Cheetos and Jungkook tries (keyword: tries) to slyly wrap his arm around you from behind but doesn’t go unnoticed, and you move forward for him to easily slide his arm around you, not even bothering to look at his red face because there’s a really high chance that you’ll combust.

2 episodes into the new season, you turn to Jungkook and he notices, eyebrows raised as you gulp,

“I think I like you too.”

“That would’ve been really romantic if your Cheetos breath wasn’t hitting my face.”

epilogue

“Yesss, get it Kook!” Jungkook comes running up to you and you slap his arm in enthusiasm. He hugs you, tight, and your arms wrap around his body as well, congratulating him in his victory. His last hit had been a smash, one his opponent hadn’t been able to defend and the match had indeed with your school winning, the trophy yours for the third time in a row.

“We won.” The words coming out of Jungkook’s mouth urge you to hug him tighter, and you do, nodding although he probably can't see you. “We did.” Your boyfriend lets go of you to embrace his teammates and you laugh with all of them, and when your eyes meet Jungkook’s, realise that he may not be as bad as you first thought him to be.

tysm for reading whatever the fuck this is <3 send in feedback, if you want!

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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

Text

Take It Easy - Little Movie Star Chapter Four (Jensen Ackles x Daughter!Reader)

[Actors-Masterlist], [Little Movie Star-Masterlist]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: The aftermath of the hate comments. Jensen explained that the future would not be easy if you had a public life. Bonding time with Danneel was appreciated & a revelation left Jensen with a plan for you.

Words: 2,022

Warnings: language, mentions of cyber bullying, bonding time, fluff, tiny bit of angst, fake social media posts (picture credits go to their rightful owners)

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

~2016~

Sunrise came sooner than anticipated. Wanting to procrastinate the talk with Jensen & Danneel, you slowly dragged yourself out of bed & went to the bathroom. Risking a look in the mirror was a big mistake. Your eyes were puffy from all the crying you did yesterday. Technically, you could go for sunglasses. Nope, you could not do that. You know who wears sunglasses inside? Blind people…& douchebags. Chuckling slightly at your own joke. Hopping in the shower real quick, you hoped the warm water could calm you down enough.

After putting on a comfortable outfit for the day, you took a deep breath & started walking to JJ’s room. It had become quite the routine for you. If you were up early enough, you stopped by her room & took her with you downstairs. Knocking softly & opening the door slowly, you saw her already awake, waiting for you to pick her up.

“Good morning, princess. Slept well?” she nodded eagerly & stretched out her arms.

“Let’s get to breakfast then.” smiling sweetly at her. Just for a second, you forgot all about last night & just lived in the moment. Oh, if it were that easy all the time…

Silent voices made you stop in your tracks. Eavesdropping was not something you usually did but you could not help yourself. Besides, you could tell that this conversation resembled around you.

“Maybe she hasn’t seen the comments yet.”

“Oh come on, Dee. Of course she has. I mean, our comment sections are filled with that bullshit.” Jensen was deeply hurt by what some of his fans were saying about you, after one single post.

“What should we do?” Danneel sighed.

“We talk to her.” that was when you coughed to bring the attention to yourself. They turned around & looked surprised by your sudden appearance. You set JJ down & crossed your arms over your chest.

“Sorry for listening in on you guys.” your eyes flickered down because deep down, you knew what you did was not okay.

“Hey, no, it’s fine. We wanted to talk to you anyway.” Jensen walked over to you, followed by Danneel.

“Please don’t listen to any of them, angel.” the nickname made your eyes shot up & when you looked at Danneel, you could feel the tears threatening to escape. Jensen could tell right away & wrapped his strong arms around your frame. You did not care about being vulnerable in front of them. Even though you were sure you would regret your actions in a few hours from now.

Breakfast was filled with conversation between the three of you. JJ & the twins were not understanding anything anyway & you were glad that they were too young to care about stupid comments made by anonymous people on the internet.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Jensen’s voice was filled with disappointment. Though, you were not sure if it was directed at his fans or at his decision of making an Instagram post in the first place.

“None of this is your fault.” reassuring him quietly.

“You don’t deserve this. And we don’t want you to think that we’re not happy with you being here because that is bullshit. We love having you here.” Danneel’s hand found yours on the table & she gave you a little squeeze that put a small smile on your face. You were about to tell them something you had never admitted to anyone before. It was a big step for you & you were making yourself even more vulnerable in front of them. But they seemed genuinely concerned about you & you did not know why but you believed what they were saying. You just hoped your trust in them was not misplaced.

“It’s just…It’s not the first time I’ve heard something like that. A lot of the families I had been to previously had shared their opinions with me. I’m used to it, I don’t even know why it’s affecting me this much.” Jensen & Danneel shared a look with each other. Yes, they were happy that you were sharing a little bit of your past with them but what you shared broke their hearts. The worst thing was that they knew it was not the only thing that had happened to you. There had to be so much more that you still had not told them & they were scared what would come in the future.

“Can you promise me something?” Jensen waited until you met his eyes. “If you have thoughts like that, you come to us immediately. Because whatever your mind tries to tell you, it ain’t true. A lot of these comments are not only hurtful but also threatening. And I’ll put a stop to this right now.” he pulled out his phone & opened twitter. He showed Danneel & you the tweets before he hit send. Afterwards, they told you that comments similar to what you had read will continue to come at your way, simply because they were celebrities. After all, you were part of their family now & therefore your life would also be kind of public. As much as you would allow it anyway.

To some, these tweets might not be a lot but to you, they meant the world. After Jensen tweeted these, you grabbed your own phone, opened Instagram & reposted the picture you took yesterday.

You meant every single word because you did feel like a part of this family & why you still could not understand why they wanted you in the first place, you were more than happy that you were here still. A few weeks ago, you would have never thought to stay with them for so long. Yeah, they really meant it when they said they wanted you to be a part of them.

“I know exactly what we need!” Danneel stood up & you gave her a confused look. What was she planning?

“Girls-Day.” giving you a wink, she helped you out of your seat & gave you a light push, telling you to get dressed so you guys could go shopping. Danneel was aware that you were still slightly uncomfortable whenever you were alone with her but she wanted to change that & what better way than a shopping trip together?

The trip to the local mall was very much needed. Danneel warned you about possible paparazzi & the thought made you nervous. What if you did not look good? What if it gave the media something negative to report on? Danneel silenced your thoughts by dragging you into the first shop. Your shopping spree was successful & you came back with tons of shopping bags. Feeling bad because you did not pay for anything, Danneel assured you that it was no problem. Besides, you did not have a lot of clothing to begin with & she told you that you needed it. Also, she gave you permission to raid her closet any time you wanted. And who were you to decline such an offer?

“Successful much?” Jensen joked when the two of you entered the house, struggling with all the bags you were carrying. He gave you a hand & set some of the bags on the couch. Your mood had changed drastically if you were to compare yourself to a few hours prior.

“Jensen, can you help (Y/N) putting her stuff in her room?” Danneel grabbed some of her bags, definitely not nearly as many as were filled with your clothing.

After putting all of the bags on your bed, Jensen offered to help you putting them away in your closet & you thanked him. While the two of you got to work, he commented on some of the clothes that he was storing away & said that you & Danneel chose a lot of great looking things.

“So, how was today?” Jensen started a conversation & you were not in the mood to lie to him so you told him the truth, the entire truth for once.

“A rollercoaster of emotions. But it ended great.” shooting an honest smile his way, one, that he copied.

“I know it’d be easier if we weren’t popular & all that.” he sighed.

“Not all of it is bad, though. I mean, you get so much love on a daily basis.”

“True, but it can be frustrating, especially when family gets involved. Still happens with Danneel sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, you know, when people get jealous & all that.”

“I’m sorry.” a tight lipped smile was on your face.

“Nothing to be sorry for. This life has its perks, but it also has a lot of disadvantages. When you’ve been in this business for so long, you start blocking out the negative comments...Hey, that was the last piece, we did it.” raising his hand for you to give him a high-five.

Falling backwards on your bed, Jensen mimicked your actions, you let out a long, satisfied sigh. Today had been exhausting, both mentally & physically.

“Now that we know that you enjoy shopping…what else do you do for fun?”

“Um, I guess a lot of creative stuff. I like writing. Taking pictures. Drawing. Oh, this will sound ironic, but I actually like acting a lot.” that peaked his interest. He propped up his arm & laid his head on it.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean...Whenever I imagine playing a role, it helps me control my emotions.”

“Do you have any experience?” he curiously asked. Maybe you had acted somewhere before?

“God, no. Just because I like it doesn’t mean I’m good at it.” laughing shortly, then you continued. “It’s not like there were a lot of opportunities coming my way growing up.” shrugging, you enjoyed the comfortable silence that followed. Shortly after, Jensen walked out of your room, telling you to get some sleep.

A plan was starting to form in his head. He had connections & if acting really was something that you enjoyed, why not trying? The producers had the last word & then he could see if it really was something that was just a hobby to you. He had a feeling that you would surprise him, though. Dialing the next person that came to his mind, he wanted to hear his opinion.

“Hey, man. How are you?”

“Hi, Jared. I’m great, thanks.”

“How’s (Y/N) doing?”

“Danneel & her went shopping today. But look, she just told me something.”

The conversation went on for a while & Jared was on board with Jensen’s plan. Still, it was meant to stay secret for the time being. They planned a dinner in a few days from now. Just him, Danneel & you, joined by Jared & Gen. It would also be your first time meeting them. This decision was made shorty after you arrived at the Ackles’ house. Simply because you were freaking overwhelmed with the entire situation & had to get used to them at first. Now, it felt like a good time to introduce you to the Padalecki’s. At the dinner, they would tell you about their little plan. Before that could happen, though, Jensen had to make a few more phone calls to set everything up. Hopefully, you would not kill him after finding out. No, he could tell that you were being serious about this. You might not admit it but he noticed that your passion for acting was way bigger than you let on.

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (04/10/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @vicmc624, @imaginationisgrowth, @stoneyggirl, @alyispunk, @thevelvetseries, @multifandomlover121, @samsgirl93, @supernatural3002, @diabetes-03, @prettyybubblesintheair, @originalsoulcollector, @vir-tual, @bellero, @sergantbuckybarnes (let me know if you wanna be tagged <3)

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wooyunhwa · 4 years

Text

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔭𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔰 | 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢

view pinned post for masterlist!

Genre: smut (with plot), angst

Pairing: mafia au!seonghwa x fem!reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: violence, lots of angst

Synopsis: The truth comes to light as things take a turn for the worse. Seonghwa’s family secrets are darker than you imagined, and you find yourself caught in the crossfire. How can things ever return to normal?

A/N: I’m sorry in advance for what I’m about to put you all through. Technically still smut but mostly plot here! This is my favorite chapter so far from a writing and a reading perspective so I really hope you all enjoy!! Comments are super appreciated as always! <3 My posts are disappearing from the tags so if you read this and enjoy a reblog is really appreciated so my work can be seen!

Panic.

That’s what you felt as you gathered a small bag of your things. You felt like you were packing up your things to evacuate for some sort of natural disaster. It all happened so fast, throwing some clothes and your most prized possessions in a bag and flying.

It wasn’t long before you were in the passenger seat of his car. He peeled out of your driveway and onto the highway before you could even register the events of the past 10 minutes fully in your mind. Why was he so urgent? Why were you in danger? Where were you going?

In your state, you could only choke out a few confused words. “Seonghwa, what the fuck?”

“I guess I promised I’d explain, didn’t I?” He had his eyes glued on the road, but you noticed him shift in his seat nervously. “There was a fight... with my father. He told me he found out about you. That I’d been seeing you.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me. But he threatened to have you… removed.”

Your heart sunk in your chest, nausea building in your stomach. “Removed? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Killed, probably. It usually does. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve put out a hit on someone to protect the family’s interests. And it wouldn’t be the last.”

Your limbs felt like lead as you took it in, glued to your chair by what felt the weight of the entire world. You sat silently for a while, unable to process the breadth of the situation fully. You didn’t even feel like crying, you just felt truly speechless. You were snapped back to reality by his hand stroking your thigh, the other gripped tightly around the leather steering wheel.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he comforted. His soothing voice helped to calm your nerves as you watched the scenery fly by. “I’m gonna make sure it’s okay.”

You didn’t talk for a while after that, not quite sure what to say. Your legs trembled slightly, but you managed to get your breathing under control. You made light conversation, or attempted to at least, but it felt contrived at best. Why were you so nervous to talk about anything serious? You were literally escaping from the fucking mafia, but the idea of talking about Seonghwa’s father felt too off limits. You gathered the courage to ask something that had been on your mind for a while. Seonghwa had talked very little about his position within the mafia, other than the fact that he was the boss’ son. Otherwise, you knew very little about its structure.

“About, uh… your family. There’s something I’m confused about.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at your sudden curiosity.

“The guys who helped you rescue me—Wooyoung and Jongho—you called them your cohorts. Who are they? In—in the mafia I mean.”

Seonghwa sighed. It was something he always did before revealing information he knew shouldn’t be telling you. “Well, Jongho is like my cousin, in a way. Wooyoung, well, that’s more complicated.”

“I have time.”

“He’s kind of like my brother, but we aren’t related. Not by blood at least. I’ve known him since we were young. We were raised together.”

“We’ve been dating for a month and you didn’t tell me you had a brother? Jeez, Seonghwa,” you teased.

“Ah, dating, you say?” A smirk pulled up on his lips and he flashed you a playful glance. “I like that.”

You wanted to ask him a bit more about his family, but you decided it was best not to push your luck any further than what he’d just been willing to divulge. You drove in a comfortable yet tense silence for a while longer, and you tried closing your eyes to maybe seize a few moments of sleep, but to no avail.

“Seonghwa.”

“Hm?”

“Can we get some air? I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”

“That’s fine. I could afford to stretch my legs a bit.”

You pulled off at the next lookout point. It was completely empty, like the rest of the highway had been since you’d been driving, and he pulled the car off in the furthest spot.

The lookout was gorgeous, much like your company. You couldn’t see much of the intended scenery in the dark veil of the night, but you could see the stars glimmering in the sky, brighter than you’d ever seen. Seonghwa’s eyes sparkled in the starlight, and you watched him in awe as he took in the view. The circumstances may have been terrible, but you couldn’t imagine a more picturesque night.

You hoisted yourself on the stone ledge of the lookout, legs straddling Seonghwa as he stood in front of you. He pulled you in closer until your waists flush were together, and you squeezed your legs tightly around him.

He stroked your hair for a bit, then moved a hand down, his fingers drawing along the sensitive skin of your neck. His touch on you felt exhilarating in the cool breeze of the night—something about the adrenaline of running away with this man had you melting like putty in his hands.

“You’re too tempting,” he purred in your ear, running his other hand along the small of your waist. “We should be getting back on the road… but I have half a mind to take you right here.”

Inspiration struck. You gave a few sensual kisses to his neck, breathing heavily against it as you spoke. “Your car.”

“What about it?”

“Fuck me in your car, Seonghwa.” That came out more forward than you intended, but there was no point in mincing words right now.

His breath caught in his throat. You watched as his expression turned from lustful to invigorated, a hot fire burning beneath his eyes. He scooped you up, your legs still cinched tightly around his waist for support. You threw your arms around his neck as he guided you back to the Bentley, tossing you gently in the backseat.

You didn’t necessarily have expensive tastes, but something about the luxury of his car was arousing in a way you couldn’t describe. The quilted leather seats felt cool against your skin, and you didn’t know much about cars, but you knew enough to know they were custom. The car smelled like fresh mahogany and leather, like the most incredible cologne you could imagine. How could he keep it so immaculate?

His lips slid against yours as he crawled on top of you. He barely fit in the tight confinement of the backseat, having to bend his knees slightly as he positioned himself over you. Your arm came up to his waistband, doing him the favor of removing his belt for him as you made out. The air in the car grew thick and balmy with the heat of your lustful breaths, fogging the already tinted windows slightly.

He pushed his tongue into your mouth, his tongue dancing and sliding against each other hungrily. You palmed his dick through his pants, and he groaned needily against your mouth. His raging hard-on indicated he craved more. He followed your lead as you ungracefully unbuttoned his pants, sliding his underwear down, allowing yourself better access to his dick. You clumsily wrapped your hand around his shaft, pumping and twisting, drawing moans from his lips like music. He hoisted you by your waist up to a sitting position, settling you down on his lap. His hands explored under the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head suddenly, and you took the initiative to clumsily remove the rest of your clothes, giggling lightly at the difficulty of maneuvering in the confined space. “Your car might be more expensive than my house but that doesn’t make this any easier,” you grumbled, and you watched him as he smiled, unbuttoning his own shirt, still entranced by watching you undress.

You settled back down in his lap, repositioning your hand around his shaft. You loved the way his dick fit perfectly in your hand, and you subtly teased him with your hand, rubbing circles on the tip, applying just enough pressure to the base to keep him wanting under your touch. He moaned against your lips, his needy grunts indicating you had him in the palm of your hand.

He reciprocated by running one finger along your folds, testing your wetness. The sudden sensation caught you off guard, and you removed your hand from him for a moment to wrap your arms around his neck. He pumped a finger in and out slowly, drawing contented whines from your lips against his ear. How had he managed to turn the control of the situation back to his favor?

His touches were just as deliberate—giving you just enough to be overwhelmed with pleasure, but not fully satisfied. You were practically dripping in his lap now, and the thought of his dick stretching you out was sounding more and more tempting.

He pulled his fingers out suddenly, guiding your shoulders away from him for a moment to take the image of you in. Something familiar glimmered in his eyes--you recognized the same expression he had on earlier, when he marvelled at the stars. His facial expression softened into wonder.

"I'm so lucky," he mused softly, and it was almost as if he wasn't talking to you, but to himself, for a moment. "I know you're scared of what's going to happen next. But it's going to be okay."

His words hit something deep inside of you, a part of your mind you had pushed far down. The part that was incredibly scared of the coming unknowns.

He stroked your hair, his eyes still sparkling as he comforted you. His voice was calm and smooth as always. "No matter what happens I'm going to protect you. I promise."

You kissed him gently, forgetting for a moment the explicitly sexual position you were in. Slowly but surely, you were falling for him. Well, more like tripping flat on your face down a flight of stairs for him. You had known that for a while, but your sudden dangerous circumstances had cemented it in your mind. He was yours, undeniably.

You smiled against his lips. "I'll hold you to that promise."

You felt his hands reposition under you, raising your hips and positioning you over his shaft. You sunk down slowly, and his nails sunk into you with a breathy moan as you pushed down fully. “You feel incredible,” he cooed softly. You moaned against the skin of his neck as his dick stretched you out slowly. The intimacy of the moment heightened every sensation by what felt like a power of a million. You rocked your hips slowly on top of him, and one of his hands came up to caress your breasts, the other supporting under your ass as you moved. Your pleasured moans harmonized with his, echoing against the interior of the Bentley. The car rocked slightly under you as you slid up and down over his hips slowly. He brought the hand on your breast down to where his cock connected with you, applying gentle pressure to your clit. The sensation was almost too much to handle. “Seong- fuck, ah-” you whined breathlessly. You trembled under his touch, barely able to move your hips up and down with the way your legs were shaking.

“I want you to feel good,” he breathed in your ear. His deep voice resonating in your ear sent you soaring, and your eyes rolled back as he rubbed harder against your clit, rutting his hips up against you. Your orgasm crashed through you, enveloping your mind in a thick, blissful fog. He held you tight as you shook, and you saw his lips curl up into a smile. “Good girl,” he praised, and you panted against him, still coming down from your high. “Tired?”

You were, you were exhausted. You came hard, harder than you could remember in a long time. But you wanted to give him the same pleasure he’d given you. You continued to rock up and down on his dick, mustering up every drop of energy you had to slam your hips down on him. He sang your praises with his desperate groans, and you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer like this. You latched your lips against his neck, marking him as you gave a few final thrusts. He bucked his hips up against you, and you rocked in motion with each other.

You felt warm liquid spill over inside of you, Seonghwa grunting beautifully as he came, before pausing for a moment. “Shit, I didn’t mean to- inside-” he stuttered, his voice laced with a slight panic.

“Hwa, it’s fine. I’m on birth control,” you reassured, sliding yourself off on him. You realized that was the first time you’d called him by his nickname.

He paused, smiling a bit. “Right. I probably should have known that.”

You collapsed on top of him, still straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his shoulders, head nestled in his warm neck. Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so relaxed, so content, than while you were wrapped in his arms. Even in the balmy heat of the car, you felt refreshed leaning against his soft skin. It felt unbelievably intimate, the way you were pressed against each other, bodies nearly flush. He ran his fingers through your hair, combing through the knots slowly.

“You’re probably gonna have to get this thing detailed,” you laughed, realizing you were dripping sweat—and all sorts of other liquids—all over his custom interior.

“Worth it,” he grumbled, pulling you in tighter against him.

You sat silently like that for a while, both working to catch your breath from the intense session.

Seonghwa was the first to break the silence, his voice tender and calm. “That thing you said… about us dating.” He paused. “We are, right?”

You smiled against the skin of his neck as you nestled your head tighter into the crook of his neck. “Yes, I think we are.”

He pushed you away from him gently, so that you were eye-level with him. His eye contact was intense and serious, but loving. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden cheesiness—you’d never been particularly good at embracing sincere moments. “Does this mean I can say my boyfriend is in the mafia?”

He chuckled for a moment before his expression grew serious. “Not for much longer. If we can pull this off, I want to start a new life with you.”

“Awfully fast, don’t you think?” you teased, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. Then, more seriously, “I’d like that.”

You sat like that, embraced for a while. You felt remarkably safe in his arms, despite everything you’d been through with him. Your track record with him was tainted with the threat of uncertainty, and yet it felt entirely right. You debated telling him just how much you were falling for him, but you decided to hold off for the moment. This was enough.

You eventually slipped back into your clothes after nearly nodding off in his arms in the backseat. He carried you around to the front seat in a bridal hold, resting you lightly in the plush leather passenger seat. He retrieved a thin blanket from the trunk, draping it over you delicately.

The last thing you remember was Seonghwa’s hand gently stroking your thigh as he drove, and the gentle hum of the car’s tires on the highway lulling you to sleep.

Your eyes fluttered open, taking a few moments to adjust to the low light of the night outside the window. It was dark, but you could make out the glimmer of water on the horizon to your right.

The ocean? How long had you been driving for?

“Seonghwa,” you muttered drowsily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Where are we going?”

“I have a private place. A beach house. We’ll be safe there for the night—my father doesn’t know about it.”

Jesus. A beach house? How many houses could one man have? you thought, biting your tongue from saying anything out loud. You still sometimes forgot how rich he was, even while lying comfortably in the passenger seat of his Bentley.

“We’re almost there,” he said, reaching over to rest his hand on your thigh comfortingly.

You nodded sleepily, your consciousness fading in and out as he finished the drive. The car slowed significantly as he pulled off the highway onto a rougher private road. It was lined with a thick covering of trees on both sides, filtering out the faint glow of the moonlight. You dragged to a halt at the end of the road, met with the sight of a clearly expensive and yet surprisingly quaint beach house. You had your hand on the car door latch, about to press it open when Seonghwa suddenly grabbed your arm.

“Wait.”

You paused, your stomach sinking as you saw his expression fall into something serious. You followed his gaze out the window, headlights piercing the front windshield the moment you looked up.

Three cars circled you, tires skidding against the sandy pavement as they screeched to a halt. You looked at Seonghwa, frozen in fear as figures began to step out into the night.

“Seonghwa—” You grabbed his arm, curling your fingers into the fabric of his sleeve as you watched the men grow closer.

“Stay here,” he said sternly. “Don’t move.”

He stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He took an apprehensive step forward, keeping close as he called out to them.

“What the fuck do you want?” His expression was tight, stoic as he scanned the crowd. There were five men that you could count, standing in a loose circle around Seonghwa’s Bentley. Panic crept into your system, and you clenched your fists against the seats.

The car right in front of you swung its driver’s side door open, and a familiar blonde haired figure stepped out.

“Wooyoung!” Seonghwa called, giving a relieved sigh as he laid eyes on his comrade. “Thank god it's you, I thought I’d been caught. Why did you—did something happen?”

The expression on Seonghwa’s face was one of visible confusion. Wooyoung laughed, running a hand through his hair. He looked up at Seonghwa with eyes cold as ice.

“You’re not going anywhere, Hwa. You really threw a wrench in things, you know. You think you can just run off with your little girlfriend so easily?”

Run off? Was he trying to run away from the mafia?

“I—I don’t understand—”

“Of course you don’t.” Wooyoung scoffed, bitter and resentful.

“Did my dad put you up to this? Were you the one who told him I was—”

“Your dad? Hah, I’m not the one who told him you were leaving, Hwa.”

“Then, why…”

“Your dad is the reason I can’t let you leave. You have no idea the kind of hell he put me through. Not a fucking clue!” His voice trembled with an eerie, subdued rage.

“Look, I don’t know what my father did, but I hate him as much as you do. I have nothing to do with him!”

“You can’t possibly hate him like I do,” Wooyoung laughed humorlessly. “You’re his only son. You mean everything to him. He has everything he could possibly want. Money, power, respect… But you, you can’t be replaced.”

“What the hell are you saying, Wooyoung?”

“The agony of his only son slipping away, powerless to stop it. How it feels to have the only person you love ripped away from you, just like that… like my father was.”

“Your father? My father said he found you abandoned in a crack house, left to starve after your parents ran off!”

“Well, he fucking lied, didn’t he?”

Seonghwa stood, stunned at Wooyoung’s words.

“He lied. You wanna know what really happened? Your father put a bullet in my father’s head with his own two hands. He was murdered, Seonghwa. Not before being tortured, of course. I saw the whole thing. But your daddy doesn’t know that.”

“He… what? Wooyoung, I didn’t know—“

“Of course you didn’t!”

“If I had known earlier—“

“What would you have done, exactly? Kill him? No, see, I don’t want him dead. I want him to live his life out with his son’s blood on his hands.”

“The blood would be on your hands, not his!”

“In a literal sense, yeah. But you know what they say. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. I’m just paying back what he’s owed.”

“You’re like a brother to me, Woo. You know that. You always have been.” Seonghwa’s voice was softer that time. Sadder.

“I’ve never once thought of you as a brother. I can’t even look at your fucking face. You’re the spitting image of him, right down to your fucking ego,” Wooyoung spat, closing the distance between them, giving Seonghwa a harsh shove to the chest.

“You don’t mean that,” Seonghwa said, stumbling back. He clearly wasn’t looking for a fight.

“I do mean it. And I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I bring him your fucking head!” He punctuated his words with a swing powered with rage and hatred.

“Woo, please—I don’t want to fight you!” Seonghwa dodged his blows, refusing to swing back.

“I wanna let off a little steam before I kill you. Come at me. Come on, hit me!”

Wooyoung swung again, his lips curled up into a furious smile as he aimed at Seonghwa’s face again. The punch landed, almost as if Seonghwa let it. He staggered back, wiping a stream of red across his cheek as it dripped from his nose.

“Man, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that.” Wooyoung sounded almost giddy with delight.

“Please, Woo, that’s enough—”

“Hit me. Right now.”

“No.”

“No?”

The smile faded from Wooyoung’s face. He made a nod to one of his guys, who flung the passenger door open and grabbed you by the hair. You screamed as he dragged you out of the car, kicking and thrashing against his hold to no avail. He halted, and you felt something cold against your temple.

“Fight me, or the pretty girl dies.”

You heard a frightening click next to your ear, and your blood turned to ice. You frantically looked over at Seonghwa, who met your gaze with a look of anguish you’d never seen on him before.

“Stop—Wooyoung, please! Don’t drag her into this!”

Wooyoung clucked his tongue in sympathy. “Poor thing, having to take the fall with you. I’ll be nice, at least. I’ll give you two a nice double grave—”

Seonghwa cut him off with a right hook. Wooyoung stumbled back, clutching his chin with a satisfied smile. Seonghwa grabbed him by the jacket, dragging him in so their noses were practically touching.

“You lay one finger on her and that grave is yours,” he snarled.

Seonghwa shoved him forward, giving himself enough room to cock his fist back for a punch. Wooyoung ducked out of the way, swooping in for a jab, landing it square against Seonghwa’s cheekbone, using the momentum from his dodge to power his blow.

Seonghwa caught his balance and lunged, keeping his eyes locked to Wooyoung’s face as he threw his weight forward for another attack. Wooyoung was fast, light on his feet and easily stepped to the side, delivering another painful blow to Seonghwa’s face.

You couldn’t bear to look, but also couldn’t bear to look away. You were afraid of what would happen if you closed your eyes, but you felt every punch that Seonghwa took as if you were the one fighting Wooyoung instead. Tears welled up in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks as you watched powerlessly from the sidelines.

“Stop,” you croaked, your voice lodged in your throat. They couldn’t hear you, and even if they could, they wouldn’t stop for you. You had no part in this. You felt small, useless, and utterly, utterly powerless.

“I take it back, you’re nothing like your father. You’re weak as hell, afraid to hit me with everything you’ve got. At least your father wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger,” Wooyoung taunted through his teeth.

“Shut the fuck up,” Seonghwa snarled, launching a hit to Wooyoung’s nose so hard that blood nearly splattered all the way to your feet.

Wooyoung dragged a hand across his mouth, wiping away the blood pouring down his lips from his nose. He smirked as he looked down at his hand, shaking off drops of crimson as he continued speaking.

“I’ll be doing him a favor, really. You’re not fit to take over his throne. You’re a pussy, Hwa. Always have been, always will be.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Seonghwa practically screamed at him.

It was a side of him that was brand new to you, and you didn’t like it. Not one bit. You wished you were home with him, watching the smile on his face instead of the movie on the screen, hearing his laugh like a song. Not this Seonghwa, covered in blood, dripping sweat, eyes full of hate as he swung his fists.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take over for you. I’ll stay by his side, watching the look on his face as I tell him my version of the story. He won’t know it was me, and I’ll even say I tried to save you. After all, you’re my brother, right?”

Wooyoung laughed as he dodged Seonghwa’s blows, taunting him ruthlessly, wearing a crooked smile on his face like the devil’s own.

“You’re not my brother. Not anymore,” Seonghwa spat, cold as ice.

Wooyoung laughed, shrill and joyful. “That’s the spirit. Now we’re on the same page!”

Wooyoung landed a fierce uppercut to Seonghwa’s jaw. He fell back, landing hard against the ground, reeling from the blow. Wooyoung’s foot lurched forward, smashing into Seonghwa’s ribs with all of his weight. Seonghwa wretched, coughing wetly as thick strings of red dripped from his lips. Wooyoung kicked him again as you screamed and begged for mercy.

“Wooyoung please—stop! Please!” you sobbed, trembling and gasping for breath in between cries.

“Don’t worry princess, I’ll make yours quick.”

Wooyoung planted a foot against Seonghwa’s cheek, digging and twisting his heel against his face.

“Can’t say the same for you,” Wooyoung said down to Seonghwa, who was barely clinging to consciousness. He groaned, glaring up at his former brother through heavy eyelids. Wooyoung delivered a final kick to his skull, and Seonghwa stopped moving.

“No! No, god—no!”

You screamed and thrashed against the man’s hold on you, forgetting about the hand wrenching your scalp, forgetting about the gun to your head. You screamed until your lungs ached as one of the guys peeled Seonghwa off the ground by his shirt collar. His body was limp, and you felt numb all over as you feared the worst.

Wooyoung wiped his hands together as one of his guys shoved Seonghwa into the back seat of a car. You sobbed and wailed uncontrollably, digging your fingernails into the fist holding your hair, clawing desperately to get free. The man gave a painful shake to your head, commanding you to be quiet.

Wooyoung knelt in front of you, and you froze, gasping for breath as you looked at him with wide eyes. His expression softened, and he brought a bloodied hand to your cheek, caressing it gently with his thumb. You were paralyzed, completely motionless under his touch.

“I’m really sorry, love. It’s got nothing to do with you. I’ll make it quick, I promise. You don’t deserve to suffer,” he said sweetly, genuinely as he wiped your tears away. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead as he stood. “See you soon.”

With that, he turned and hopped into his S Class, leaving a smear of blood against the door handle. Cruel hands dragged you toward another car, your screams piercing the night sky with no answer. You felt a cloth against your mouth, and everything went black.

The next thing you remembered was waking up on the cold leather seats of the car that had taken you. It took a second for you to regain consciousness, but when you did, the events of the night hit you like a truck. The images flooded in, and it was like reliving it all over again. The dull ache in your chest grew quickly into unbearable anguish, the tears beginning to flow down your cheeks without much warning at all.

You choked against the fabric gagging your mouth as you sobbed hopelessly. Your heart felt like it’d been ripped from your chest, a wide gaping hole replacing any semblance of hope you still clung to. Your cries echoed uselessly as you thrashed in the backseat of the car, muffled as you tried to scream. Your wrists stung against the zip ties cutting into them, and you quickly gave up trying to get free.

The man in the passenger seat groaned, throwing a menacing glance over his shoulder. “Can this bitch just shut up?”

“I wish Wooyoung would have just taken her out back there,” the driver grumbled.

You knew there was no getting out of this alive. Your only hope, the only one who knew where you were, was dead. At least, you could only assume he was, or at least he would be soon. You couldn’t forget the sound Wooyoung’s fist had made against Seonghwa’s skin, delivering blow after blow, or the sound of his lifeless body being dragged away as you begged for mercy. The image haunted you relentlessly, every time you closed your eyes, every time you stopped to take a breath through your sobs, you saw him lying on the pavement, cold and bloodied.

You were completely helpless, being transported in some mafia car like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d die scared and alone, surrounded by strangers, with no one left to mourn you. You tried to picture Seonghwa’s face in your mind—the Seonghwa you wanted to remember, the Seonghwa who promised he would protect you no matter what, the Seonghwa who comforted you as you panicked. You tried to picture his soft, gentle smile, the feeling of his hand on your thigh reminding you it was going to be okay, but all you could see was his lifeless body, dripping blood and sweat onto the ground.

That couldn’t be the way you remembered him. It couldn’t.

Your hopeless screams turned to quiet, choked sobs as the reality sunk in. None of it mattered anymore—nothing you could do, no amount of thrashing or crying would set you free. Even the scenery flying by in blurred streaks through the window seemed irrelevant. In hours, maybe even minutes, you would cease to exist. If you were lucky, maybe Wooyoung would follow through on his promise of a double grave, but the thought brought you not even an ounce of solace. Your fate was sealed, exactly like Seonghwa’s. It was over. You closed your eyes tight, conjuring his image in your mind the best you could. Just as he had been on the first night you’d met him, he looked entirely unreal in your mind’s eye—too good to be true. Too good to be true. What a joke. You almost wanted to laugh. It was too good to be true, after all. You couldn’t laugh, though, not with this bitter emptiness consuming you like a lost speck of dust in the void.

“What the hell—“ the driver suddenly shouted, pulling you back into the moment.

A car drifted in front of you, hurtling closer as it spun its rear into your lane, on trajectory for a collision. The driver slammed on the breaks, and a wave of inertia threw your body forward. You bit your tongue as the car swerved, tasting iron as the wheels skidded and screeched against the highway. The driver cursed as he lost control, frantically turning the wheel as the car’s flank scraped against the guardrail.

The windshield shattered, erupting into a spray of glass particles that coated the entire car. Gunshots rang out—gunshots?—and you fell against the seat for cover. Not that it really mattered if you died now or later, you thought morbidly. The driver’s window shattered next, a bullet just barely missing his face.

“Fuck!”

The man in the passenger seat pulled a gun from his jacket, stretching his arm past the driver to shoot. He pulled the trigger a few times, but the other car still had you flanked, sabotaging his aim as they forced the car against the rail. Your ears rang from the gunshots, and you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to buffer the sound with your hands.

The driver jerked the wheel to the side, ramming the car with all his might, metal groaning and screeching in the collision. They pushed and shoved against one another like a high speed arm wrestling match, your body jostling painfully with each impact. There was a sickening jolt as the tires blew, and the car spun out, wheels screaming against the asphalt before finally crashing into the guardrail.

Everything went still, and the passenger threw his seatbelt over his shoulder, flinging the door open with guns ablaze. He didn’t even fire off two shots before he went down, crumpling to the pavement as he took a bullet between the eyes. The driver aimed out the jagged remains of the windshield, screaming out strings of curse words as he furiously squeezed the trigger.

Blood splashed across the interior of the car, soaking it in red as the driver went limp. You screamed as blood splattered across your face, the man’s shattered skull a haunting afterimage on the back of your eyelids. Your heart was pounding, body trembling as footsteps approached your side of the car, and the door flung open. You didn’t dare open your eyes as a hand hooked around your elbow, pulling you out of the car against his body with a careful touch.

“You ok?” a voice asked. You didn’t recognize it, and you kept your eyes tightly shut. Your whole body shook as you hyperventilated, your lungs burning as you gasped desperately for air.

“Shh, hey, it’s ok! It’s ok, I’m on your side,” the voice soothed, rubbing a hand along your back. “I’m gonna untie you, ok?”

Your hands fell free as a knife cut through the zip ties holding them together, and he moved to undo the gag next. He gingerly untied the knot behind your head, pulling the wet fabric from your mouth. He brushed your hair out of your face, his tone soft as he spoke.

“There. Hey, can you look at me? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You cracked your eyes open. His face was intimidating, with sharp eyes and an x-shape shaved into one eyebrow, complete with a diamond in the center. His deep blue hair was pushed back impeccably, and he wore a huge leopard fur coat. He looked like another scary mafia guy, and you’d had quite enough of those. Despite his looks, he seemed kind, his expression gentle and eyebrows pinched with concern he surveyed you for injury.

“I’m Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s best friend.” [to be continued]

#park seonghwa smut #seonghwa smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #park seonghwa #so sorry #posts keep disappearing from tags #troubleshooting tags #jung wooyoung #tag testing #help me plz

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

You were all I wanted Part 2

Pairing: mob!Peter Parker x plus-sized!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, kidnapping, human trafficking, non-con, minor character's death.

Words: 2655.

Summary: You are bought by the head of Stark crime family for a kid he cares about.

Part 1

P.S. Peter is an adult!

__________

It had started. You could feel the sudden shift in atmosphere when Peter dropped his hand to your cheek, touching you awkwardly as if he were afraid you would disappear once he got more passionate with you. He caressed you gently like a lover, and you felt miserable. The only boy who had ever set his eyes on you was a young mobster who owned you as of you were some soulless object.

"You're so pretty." His whisper was barely audible, his face so close to yours you wanted to shut your eyes.

You needed to relax. No one - even a boy like him - would want to deal with a mad fury. He'd just shoot you: among other things on the table there were there was an actual gun. You needed to keep this guy happy, and maybe Peter would still be sweet with you once he got rid of his virginity.

But then he suddenly stopped and pulled away from you.

"Oh no, what the hell am I doing?" He laughed awkwardly and scratched his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean jumping at you like that. So you wanna take your shower or maybe eat some more?"

You took your eyes elsewhere and did your best not to wince. Keep it cool, breathe, don't push the boy off.

"Can I have some alcohol?" Your voice sounded pathetic.

"Of course!" Peter jumped again and rushed to the drawer. "I have some whiskey and vo... shit, I'm stupid, who the fuck gives vodka to a lady? I'll bring you a bottle of champagne, just a sec!"

He was at the door in a matter of seconds and you gave him a puzzled look. This Peter boy was unpredictable. He grinned at you and went out of the room, locking the door behind him.

You were still on the bed, watching your feet, afraid to move. Technically, in front of you was a regular door with a simple lock and a door handle - if you could find something heavy, you could break it.

Well, actually, you could just snatch that gun from the table and make a few holes in the wood. The problem with that was that you were inside Stark Tower, that ugly building that looked more like an abandoned factory rather than a graceful skyscraper. How many Stark's guys with guns were there? How far would you make it?

You could also put a gun against your head and pull the trigger...

You shivered and stood up, walking to the bathroom. You refused to look at the table.

Stripping yourself of all those lacy undergarments with shame and dropping them to the white floor, you sneaked into the bath and turned on the water, trying not to look around too much. It felt like there were cameras everywhere to record you, naked, miserable, and frightened, so you finished showering as fast as you could and wrapped a towel around youself. Could you take that towel, actually? Was it for you? Would Peter want to see you naked on the bed when he returned instead?

You wiped away more tears running down your face and slowly removed the towel, putting on the lingerie they gave you before the auction.

"Hey, where are you?" Peter's voice rang loudly behind the door. You could feel he was distressed.

"H-here!" You quickly grasped your palr pink silk robe and put it on too, carefully sneaking back to the room to see the boy with a bottle of Moet & Chandon and two champagne glasses in his hands. Huh, classy.

"Oh, hey." He smiled, a bit embarrassed at his outbirst. "I, uh, found this. I hope you're going to like it."

"Thank you, Peter." You murmured softly and saw him grinning wider when he heard you saying his name for the first time.

Although normally you didn't drink much, you heard about your friend's sexual escapades when she was totally drunk many times and assumed everything could go easier if you had enough champagne. Maybe then you would simply forget you were brought to Stark's Tower and forced to have sex with a guy you had never met before.

Peter had already opened the bottle with a loud noise and poured the sparkly golden liquid into the glass, handing it to you. You brushed your hand against his unintentionally and thought how warm he was.

"I'm not good with these things, but, um, I'm glad I met you today." He had that radiant boyish smile on his face. When he raised his glass, you raised yours too, barely understanding to what you were saluting. "I'm so happy from now on you're gonna be here with me."

What a romantic. It would be almost sweet if he didn't hold you here against your will.

"I'm happy to meet you, too." You made yourself smile, and the two of you clinked your glasses. You drank all the champagne in one big gulp, not afraid to appear unladylike and caring only to get drunk faster. You didn't eat much, so it had to be easy enough.

Peter repeated after you with a little laugh and filled the glasses again and then again until you didn't start feeling funny and your shoulders finally relaxed, the alcohol removing all the tension from your body like some magical elixir. When the boy reached out to touch your shoulder, you didn't flinch, feeling his soft lips pressing against yours in a gentle kiss.

It wasn't that bad, you thought. He was being very tender with you, taking his time to unfasten your robe with his fingers trembling from excitement, and then kissed your temple. He trailed his kisses down to your neck as you let out a loud sigh, biting your lips, then burying your fingers in his soft disheveled hair. Peter's subtle touches felt good.

"I'm sorry for hurrying these things up." He said suddenly with guilt all over his pretty face. "I really am, but I have to show the guys you're my girl. They won't understand otherwise, and we might get in trouble."

"It's ok." You kissed his cheek, watching his eyelashes tremble. "Maybe I'm going to like it. You're nice, Peter."

He looked at you with wide eyes, his lips curling into a wide smile once more at your words as he reached to unfasten your pink bra.

"I don't have much experience, but I'll do my best to make you feel good." His breath tickled your face when the boy cupped your breasts, enjoying the softness of your body. You loved that look of adoration on his face.

"Do you have any?"

"I do."

What, really? That high schooler already had his virginity taken by someone else?

"Kids these days." You mumbled and he suddenly pinched your cheek. "Ouch!"

"You're not allowed to call me a kid!" Peter said with a pout, drawing little circles around your nipple and grasping your plump hip. "Only Mr. Stark can. Besides, I'm like year and a half younger that you, so I'm going to call you a little girl then, y'know?"

"Wha... ahh... Peter." You inched him closer, enjoying the way he played with your breast and kissing him in return. "But you look so young, huh."

"And you look like a schoolgirl without your makeup." He chuckled and gently sucked your lower lip, his left hand caressing your soft belly. You tensed immediately again, but the boy lowered you on the bed and kissed your forehead, staring at you from above with loving eyes. "Please don't be shy. I like you. Every part of you."

You stayed silent, but your eyes were gleaming with tears when you threw your hands around his neck and inched Peter closer, kissing him more. He rested one of his arms close to your pillow, the other one travelled down your body to squeeze your belly gently again, then went closer to your pussy, forcing you to open your legs and caressing your clit covered by the thin pink fabric of your panties.

"I can take care of you." The boy cooed softly at your ear and pushed them to the side to touch your already slick folds. "Do you want me to? Do you want me to take care of you?"

"Yes." You moaned when his fingers rubbed your clit and closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment. "Please, please, Peter, take care of me."

"I knew you'd be a good girl." He licked his lips impatiently and picked up pace rubbing your clit to make you wail under him. "Yes, like that. I'm gonna teach you to cum from my fingers, and then I'll use that tight little pussy of yours, yeah? Would you like that?"

"Yes, yes Peter, plea... ahhh."

____________

The next morning was peaceful - you woke up to the boy's soft snoring behind you, his hand draped over body. Well, you weren't sure you could keep calling him that since he was actually older than you thought and, uh, way more experienced. If you tried to recall all the things he did to you last night, you could die of shame, probably.

The alcohol helped a lot. Firstly, it was so much easier to blame it for all the pleaser Peter gave you - of course, it was all the alcohol's fault, you couldn't possibly enjoy having sex with someone who thought owing a human being was okay. Secondly, the alcohol allowed you to play the role of a sweet little thing to perfection as you never even once pushed Peter away, probably leaving him satisfied with your submission. If he was satisfied, maybe he wouldn't get rid of you first thing in the morning.

You shivered at the thought and realized you didn't hear his snoring anymore.

"Good morning." He yawned, sneaking closer to you and pressing his face into your hair. "Did you sleep well?"

"Good morning, Peter." You found the strength to gently caress the back of his hand laying on your belly. "Yes, thank you. Did you?"

"Are you joking?" The sound of him giggling made you relax a bit. "I think the last time I slept so soundly was when Aunt May was still alive."

You went quiet, staring at the white bathroom's door across the room. So, the woman he told you about yesterday was dead. You could imagine she was the one who raised Peter, but withour her to take care of the boy - who could be very young at that time - he ended up with Stark's crime family. Then it made sense why he didn't behave exactly like those vultures surrounding his boss as he most likely didn't grow up on the streets of New York.

Were you pitying the man who was holding you captive here? Yes, yes you were.

"Does it hurt?" He asked in quiet voice and touched your lower belly tenderly.

"A little. But not as much I thought it would."

He moved his hand up and cuddled you, kissing the top of your head. You hoped it was a good sign and you wouldn't end up in a ditch in the evening. Was Peter going to keep you here as his personal toy? It was humiliating to even think about that, but anything seemed better than dying to you now.

He let you stay. In fact, he had never considered letting you go after Mr. Stark bought you - you were Peter's girl now, right? So he did his best to accommodate you in that room where he lived, providing you with clothes, shoes, cosmetics and all the things you needed, a laptop included. Of course, there was no wi-fi or anything that could help you to connect to the outer world, but Peter recommended you strongly against it. You've already seen enough that made it impossible for you to leave - Mr. Stark would never take it kindly if you tried to run or, God forbids, go to the police. It wasn't just your life at stake, but the life of your family, too. It was embarrassingly easy to find out everything about them, including where they lived and worked, of course. Tony could kill them with a snap of his fingers.

Though you weren't allowed to leave the room, Peter promised he would do everything to give you more freedom a bit later. The guys needed to trust you before they would grant you permission to move freely around the building - not that you really wanted it. Who in the right mind would walk the Stark's Tower full of deranged criminals?

Anyway, the place where you were now was mostly comfortable - you could watch TV and play video games if you were bored; Peter also brought you a pile of books and magazines, and he was always providing you with nice food. Honestly, you expected something way worse than that.

It was the end of the third day when the boy returned with a box of pizza and a few bottles of Starbucks frappuccino, his usually cheerful expression turned all gloomy and tired. Something must had happened, but you were not sure if you were allowed to ask him that - you had never discussed the things he was doing outside of this room.

"Hi, Peter. How was your day?" You stood up from the bed and took a box and bottles from him, placing them on the side table close to the microwave. Before you could turn to him, you felt the boy kissing the back of your head.

"Tired." He mumbled and step back, taking off his bomber and sneakers before moving to bed and sitting down. "I've had a hell of a day."

"I'm so sorry. Do you want me to draw you a bath?"

When he looked at you, you saw him chuckling warmly as he motioned you to come closer. You lowered yourself on the bed, too, and Peter kissed your lips, then grinning and laughing like a kid.

"You don't know how happy I am to have you, Baby. You're sweet and smart and, uh, you don't want to run from me because you know there's no good in that."

Maybe his words were intended as a compliment, but you shivered and quickly placed a fake smile on your face. You had already figured out Peter was not even half as sweet as he seemed. What did you expect from him being Stark's favourite?

"Did something happen, Peter?" You knew you were going to regret asking that, yet you felt like you had to. You needed to pretend your relationship with him were genuine.

"Mr. Stark shot Amanda." The boy shooked his head sadly.

"Who?"

"His new girl. The one he bought at the same auction as you."

That immensely beautiful woman with her eyes deep as ocean and hair dark as night? She could easily be the world's next beauty queen, and he killed her? He killed an innocent woman who, besides that, was stunning, graceful and perfect and walking on air?!

"I mean, of course she brought it on herself when she whored with her guards to make them let her go, but, shit, I don't like it when Mr. Stark kills his girls." Peter covered his face with his rough palms and rubbed his eyes as you stared at him, terrified.

"Does he... does he kill them all?"

"Not all of them... but most."

You heard youself sobbing and clamped a hand against your mouth right away, tears pouring down your face. Your pathetic attempt to hide your fear failed as Peter leaned closer to you, taking your hand away and kissing your eyelids to shush you. He rubbed your back reassuringly and let you put your face against his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Baby." That was how he called you now. "You're not his girl, you're mine. This will never happen to you because I love you a lot and you're smart, right?"

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @msruchita @opheliadawnwalker3

#peter parker x reader #dark peter parker x reader #peter parker #dark peter parker #yandere #tom holland #spiderman

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heartofsnark · 3 years

Text

This Is Love (Chapter Eleven): Angels of Doubt, Bearing Broken Halos

Notes; The chapter title is pretentious as fuck, but I don’t care. I’m very happy with the beginning of this chapter so I’m very excite to finally let y’all read it fully. Overall, this chapter definitely is more of the build up that this uhhhh nice little religious family mayyyyyhaps be a bit less nice than originally thought.

Word Count: 10451

Chapter Warnings: Cult Angels, Animal Death (in the context of dangerous wildlife needing to be put down), A Judge Wolf, Indoctrination, Assault, Me Awkwardly trying to write himbo Nick Rye for the first time

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

They don’t go to The Spread Eagle that night, staying too late making plans. But it’s all for the best in the end, Casey would be more busy in the evening and if she’s interrupting his work, he’ll be less likely to listen. It’ll be easier to talk to him tomorrow just as the bar opens, before anyone arrives and during down time. Regardless, when she comes back to the trailer park. She breaks next to the registration building, checking her mailbox in case Cassie or Joseph had wrote her back, but no such luck. Maybe it will take a while for them to even get it?

A breeze passes through as she leaves the building, that familiar flower smell itching at her nose. The trailer park has fields of those white flowers surrounding it, the delicate petals seem ghostly in the moonlight. Moonflowers, the trailer park has to be named after them, these flowers that haunt her in her dreams. A shift of movement, far back in the expanse of flowers catches her eye. Someone tending to the flowers with a hoe, but she doesn’t know anyone in the trailer park who takes care of the flowers. Surely, if they had a grounds keeper, they’d start with the trash within area; not the flowers surrounding it.

Dahlia decides to park her bike before investigating, not wanting to leave it in the open while she journeys through the flowers. She pulls out her phone once she’s parked, tucking one earbud in. If only to ease her nerves as she walks to confront the odd stranger.

“When you told me I should text your brother.

I was walking with a blunt in my hand.

Double Jameson was in the other.

I was drinking like a spiritual man.”

She stands at the edge of the field of flowers, little the scent tickle her nose, watching the…person in the distance. Their gender, or at least presentation of it, unidentifiable. She blinks her eyes, when did she start seeing spots? Her tension eases, body and mind relaxing.

“I was just talkin’ to Jesus in my hotel room.

I was just talkin’ to Jesus in my hotel room”

And she walks further through the flowers, brushing through them, fractals blurring her vision with every step. Her head swims and floats away, fuzzy as the smell surrounds her. She drags her fingers along the blossoms as she walks, grounding herself with their velvet touch, the contrast of her black painted fingernails against them.

“And I could barely stand

He said, "Get some water, man"

'Cause they don't understand

I'm not what they think I am”

As she nears them with every unsteady step, she sees them more clearly. And truly they’re a ghastly sight. Shaved head and dirty white clothes; the smell of the flowers strengthens as she nears them, turning acrid with an edge. That smell comes from them, like they’d bathed in chemicals infused with the flowers. The mask latched around their grime coated face, covering their mouth is marked with the Eden’s Gate symbol. They pay her no mind, focused on tending to the moonflowers, their eyes are glazed nearly white and milky. Like Dahlia’s eyes looked her first night in Hope County, when she dreamed of Faith despite having never met her.

“They can never ever understand me, no

What I came from, what I was before”

“Are you…okay?” She asks them, despite her own swimming vision and weak knees.

“HelpmeFaithhelpmeFaithshieldmefromsorrow.”

They grumble, not sing, the lyrics to one of Eden’s Gate’s songs. Their voice a rasp as if they can hardly breathe, each word running into the other, energy manic. The moonlight shining on gaunt cheeks and white eyes makes them look dead, a walking corpse before her. She reaches out, gingerly touching their shoulder, hoping touch can break through whatever state they’re in.

And then they scream, swing the garden hoe and bashing it against the side of Dahlia’s head. She’s knocked to the ground, head hitting rock and dirt. The creature screams out and jumps on her, trying to maul her. Vacant eyes staring down at her, her body and head too fuzzy to even give it the reaction it deserves. She should be scared, she should be terrified, but she isn’t.

Gently, she puts her hands on each side of the person’s neck, applying pressure, not enough to strangle but to hold it at slight distance. It tries to dig dirty fingers into her flesh through her jacket, screaming mangled cries of pain or anger, she can’t tell as she looks over its face. The haunting glow of moonlight on their dirty face.

“How you get to heaven with a broke halo?

How you get to heaven with a broke halo?”

“Help me, Faith,” Dahlia sings the song it used to soothe itself, “help me Faith, shield me from sorrow… From fear of tomorrow…”

And a switch has been flipped, it stops screaming. Body going lax, fingers no longer trying to tear her apart as she sings the church song, own voice overlapping the contrasting melody of her music.

“Help me Faith, help me Faith, shield me from sadness…From worry and madness…”

And it’s slipping out of her loosening hold and climbing off her, resuming it’s gardening work, as if she never existed at all. On trembling legs and with her vision still blurring, she leaves, not sure of what else to do. A part of her knows she should be more panicked, more concerned, more anything, but then she takes another inhale the floral scent around her and she can’t find the energy. It fades as she leaves the flowers and their scent behind, vision steadying as she enters her trailer, the full reality dawning on her just as she shuts the door behind her.

“What the actual fuck!?” She screams at her empty living room, because what the actual fuck did she just see? Her mouth is dry and her brain a mess as distress finally shines through the haze.

Dahlia digs her phone out, shutting off her music and doing a search. Her vision is still fuzzy with prisms of shifting colors, body still light and floaty. They were there the first time she saw Faith, they constantly itch her nose and make her eyes see things. The church compound was covered in bushels of them.

Moonflowers, she searches, and sure enough the images show the white trumpet shaped blossoms. Also called datura, angel trumpets and it’s down a rabbit hole. They’re toxic and hallucinogenic, can be harvested for either medication or poison. Scopolamine and atropine are in them; Dahlia does not even remotely know jack shit about chemistry. But a quick search shows scopolamine has been used in everything from nausea medicine to truth serum. So…she may have just hallucinated the person? From the flowers… but when she touches her forehead, where the person stuck her, blood stains her fingers. She really did get hurt…

Dahlia grabs her sketchbook, sitting down on the floor before her coffee table as she’s done so many times before, and she draws what she saw. Painstakingly she tries to recreate them, to draw the gaunt of their cheeks and the grime on their skin. To catch the white emptiness of their eyes. And she dates the drawing, scratching out the date in as neatly as she can. And on the next page she draws her first weird dream, sketching herself vomiting flowers and blood, those moonflowers. She adds the rough date she remembers it happening in the corner when she’s satisfied. Then she draws herself burnt and marred with flowers blooming from her mangled remains, hand moving of it’s own accord to match the details, shutting out the rest of the world as she works to carefully craft every line. She dates it as well and then draws the newest one, smears of ink on bare skin with flowers blooming from them.

Once each image is created with a date etched in its corner, she sits back and rakes a hand through her hair. She’s had nightmares before this, certainly, but never as frequent or vivid as these. Flowers are the recurring theme and she’s not sure why; maybe the datura are doing it? The scent of them always present, making her sleeping brain conjure odd images. She already has a list of things to do; the apple festival is the highest priority, but she still wants to know what each flower means and what on earth is working in those flower fields, what connection it has to Eden’s Gate.

She’s exhausted, graphite from her pencil smudged and sticking to her hand. But she feels more at ease having put her demons into art, having created something out of this. There’s still a lot of questions in her mind. This constant back in forth of trusting the church only to doubt them again is frustrating.

Dahlia barely manages not to fall asleep in the shower that night, exhaustion clinging heavy to her leaden muscles and pulling at her eyelids when she lays down on her couch.

The junior deputy is running on two hours of sleep, coffee, and an energy drink the next morning. But that doesn’t stop her from swinging into The Spread Eagle as soon as it opens, Pratt in tow since they’re technically on shift.

“Something wrong, deputies?” Mary May asks when they stride in, Dahlia can already see Casey through the kitchen window, prepping food for the later in the evening.

“No, we actually just wanted to talk to you and Casey about something.”

“What’s up?” Mary May raises an eyebrow and the chef’s head perks up.

Dahlia explains Debbie and Doug’s situation, that John is trying to buy them out, at the very mention of the Seed sibling’s name she can see Mary May tense. But the tension lessens, smiles on the bartender and cook’s face when the deputy mentions their plans for an apple festival.

“I know we could use more cooks selling food there and Debbie mentioned you work with the Testy Festy, Casey.”

“Plus, figured the band that plays here, might be willing to work a night or two if you talked to ‘em Mary May.”

“Look, you had me at pissing off John Seed,” Mary May says, grinning, “I’ll talk to the band and Casey, you damn well better help them out.”

“Come around here, sister,” Casey calls out, voice deep and booming as she walks around into the kitchen already warm as starts prepping food, he spares her a glance as he minces vegetables, “your destiny hangs off you like a coat, the soul of a warrior, and the heart of a hero.”

Dahlia blinks, taken aback by his unabashed and weirdly soulful compliments. She doesn’t really believe in destiny nor does she see herself as a warrior or hero, but she certainly appreciates the thought. Her heart, that of a hero apparently, warms and she smiles after another second.

“So…you’ll help?”

“It’s important for people to gather, to bond, and feel a sense of community. I’ll call Deb and Doug to offer any help I can.”

“Thank you so much!” Dahlia grins: Casey is definitely an odd duck, but he cares about the community and willing to help. So, a fantastic guy in her book.

“Happy to help, sister.”

First two people dragged into their plan, Pratt and Dahlia give some friendly goodbyes before being on their way. This is already coming together and Stray is nearly vibrating with excitement as they leave the bar.

The pair continue to do their patrol while swinging in to talk with folks about the festival. They swing by Lorna’s Truck Stop, Dahlia unable to resist snapping a picture of the giant cheesy cow statue outside of it before they walk in, door chiming. An older woman is talking to someone in a green hood, the woman with chubby cheeks and blue eyes pushing a little bag of mini pies into the hooded person’s bruised hands.

“Here you go, Jess, on the house as always.”

“Thanks,” the hooded girl responds, an awkward gruff to the words before she leaves. When Dahlia catches a sight of her, Jess has a face of mottled bruises and cuts.

“Anything I do for you, Deputies?”

“We were hoping you could help us out, Lorna,” Pratt starts.

And just like Casey and Mary May; Lorna’s all bright smiles and kind eyes, happy to help. Even pushing bags of the free small handmade pies into the deputy’s hands before they go. There is something undeniably heartwarming at everyone’s willingness to help. She crams one of the little pasties into her mouth, sugary berries on her tongue as they get back into the cruiser.

The shift passes by with ticketing traffic violations and stopping in to rope people into helping out. Hudson and Brennan sending texts letting Dahlia know that Grace has agreed to help and Adelaide will too if only so her boytoy Xander can have a smoothie stand during the festival. Riding through the valley, Dahlia sees a billboard advertising gun lubricant, Grace Armstrong’s face plastered on it, though her eyes on the board seem off. Dahlia too far away to put her finger on it, but it looks like that part of the advert has been damaged. An award-winning sniper and veteran; well loved in the community. Dahlia only saw a glimpse of her at the barbecue, talking with Hudson, but it seems clear just how important she is to the county.

Within an hour of their shift ending, Doug and Debbie have them called out to the orchard. Their smiles are bright, the middle-aged couple holding each when the deputies pull in. Pratt’s still trying to pretend to have a grumpy face but there’s still a slight smile pulling at his lips as they get out of the cruiser.

Arms are wrapping around Dahlia in a second, Debbie pulling her into a tight hug, the young deputy tenses hands hovering awkwardly at the woman’s sides.

“Thank you, so much,” Debbie says, pulling away but her hands still on Dahlia’s shoulders, “we’ve been getting calls all day, everyone wants to help us do this, thank you so much.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s no problem…just happy to help,” Dahlia flusters under the attention, proud of what she’s done, but squirming under the weight of gratitude.

“Well, we certainly appreciate it,” Doug tells her with a smile, “but we called you out ‘cause we got some flyers made, figure’d it help advertise, though word of mouth already seems to be doing us a lot of good.”

“We could definitely hand them out, see if some places are willing to hang them up too.”

“And now we’re the flyer brigade,” Pratt grumbles under his breath and Dahlia jabs her elbow into his side.

“I’ve already been coming up with everything I wanna sell at the festival, but if you two have some free time Sunday, I could use some taste testers too,” Debbie offers, with a smile, “least I can do is feed you for all your help.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Dahlia agrees readily.

“I…could probably swing by.” Pratt tries so hard to sound above it all, but free apple pie can apparently draw even him in.

“Can’t wait to see you both then!”

They wave goodbye to the couple, Dahlia packing the flyers with her into the cruiser car. The ending hours of their shift and the day is spent finding places to hang them up. Mary May posting them in The Spread Eagle, hanging in the window of the garage and general store, Whitehorse even letting it be posted up in the window of the department. Dahlia’s ride home that night takes longer as she stops at places to ask if they’d hang up the advertisement; after getting Lorna’s Truck Stop and Audrey’s Diner to put them up. Dahlia stops at the Hollyhock Saloon, bartender agreeing to hang it up in the small bar, the rookie deputy giving a quick hello to Brennan and some of the other officers gathered at his table. The 8-bit Pizza bar hangs them up without any question, happy to help, and Dahlia manages to convince Darcy to hang it up in the registration building of the trailer park before she heads in for the night. Dahlia crashes easily that night, sleep finding her as soon as she hits the couch.

The next day Stray is hit with déjà vu as they’re called out to deal with Eden’s Gate blocking another road. She’s still not sure why this is apparently a thing they do. And to her misfortune it’s not Waylon or members of the church she likes waiting behind the cement block when they pull up this time; but Theodore and Lonny. Because of course.

“Deputies,” Lonny forces a smile, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Well, you’re breaking the law, so there’s that,” Pratt says with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, heard you two gave some of our members a hard time about blocking off a road,” Theodore comments, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll refer you back to the fact it’s against the law,” Dahlia grumbles, “why on earth are you blocking the road anyway?”

“Got some property nearby that needs some work.”

“The church own a lot a property?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow, that was Waylon’s reasoning too.

“Soon to be even more when John secures the orchard for us,” Lonny has too wide of a grin as he looks Dahlia over, “though rumor has it some little cop is trying to get in the way.”

“Irrelevant, you’re breaking the law. Just scram and there won’t be any issues.”

“Look, h-“

“We’ll be going then, deputy,” Theodore puts a hand on Lonny’s back, reigning him in. Though the way Lonny sneers tells Dahlia that their conflict is only resolved for the moment.

Regardless, Pratt and her watch as the men yet again pack away the blocks and clear the road out. Dahlia still can’t quite figure out why on earth they’d need to or would want to block the roads. Between that and the strange person she saw in the flowers, bearing the churches symbol, things just seem to get weirder and weirder. She considers for a moment asking the church members there about the person with the shaved head, but she has a feeling asking more questions will just put her higher up on Lonny and Theodore’s shit-lists.

“Still don’t get why they keep blocking the roads,” Dahlia comments when they get back in the patrol car.

“They’re assholes, what more reason they need.” Pratt shrugs before starting the cruiser engine and Dahlia just doesn’t feel like it’s that simple.

“Well, if they do it again, we don’t really have a choice but to arrest ‘em do we?”

“Can’t let them get away with shit forever; three strikes seem fair.”

Questions still run through her mind; but there’s no way of getting answers at the moment, left to bury her curiosity as they leave back down the winding roads. Hours pass and bright blues shift to pastel pinks as the sun sets upon Hope County.

That evening at The Spread Eagle, she’s listening to Pratt and Hudson argue about something; she can’t even be sure what but she’s just amused to not be at the butt of the humor tonight. She’s cramming fries into her mouth when she feels eyes on her.

“That’d be her right there,” Mary May says, pointed out at Dahlia as she talks to a man the young officer has only seen in passing. Shaggy dark hair under a cap and beard on his face, though the last time she saw him he’d been wearing glasses. She thinks it’s Nick, only having seen a glance of him at his own barbecue.

“If I’m in some sort of trouble, I’d like fair warning, Mary May.” Dahlia comments, unsure why anyone would be trying to find her in a crowd. The blonde’s smile eases her nerves as she comes across the bar, the man walking Dahlia’s way.

“No trouble, Deputy, Nick here was just wanting to know which one of you started the apple festival. He’s going fly a banner ad around for Debbie and Doug.”

“Oh, that’s awesome.”

“I just wanted to find out who was helping them out, Nick Rye,” he introduces himself, sticking his hand out for her to shake.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ve been crop dusting for Doug and Debbie for years, last thing anyone needs is for John to get his hands on that place.”

“That seems to be most people’s sentiment.”

“Told ya just about everyone is sick of his shit,” Mary May says with a shake of her head, “it’s about time he doesn’t get what he wants.”

“That son of a bitch has been hounding me and Kim for months now, trying to buy our place.” Nick’s jaw clenches, irritation coming off him in waves.

“I know Kim damn near broke his nose for it.”

“Wait what?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow; how often does John harass people?

“Listen to this,” Nick gesture emphatically, now sitting down next to Dahlia, “asshole shows up to the house while I’m gone, trying to bully Kim into selling the damn place, while she’s pregnant. What kind of sick fuck shows up at a man’s house while he’s gone and tries to strongarm his wife into signing the place over. Fuckers lucky I wasn’t home.”

“You not being home was kind of the point of when he showed up.,” Mary May reminds him, “besides, no offense, but even ready to pop I think I trust Kim’s right hook protected her more than yours ever could.”

“Now, that’s just mean,” Nick says with a slight pout to his face, reminding Dahlia of a tall puppy dog.

“It’s okay Nick, anything you lack in strength you make up for in…” Mary May seems to have to search for the next word, normally brains would be the natural contrast, “well, you just keep being you.”

“Never really thought about being anyone else; well except maybe an eagle, but I don’t think that counts.”

“No, it doesn’t really count, Nick,” Mary May says with a slight laugh.

Dahlia stifles her own laugh raising an eyebrow at the ridiculous turn of the conversation. Nick is sweet and willing to help out with the festival, so she won’t spend too much time questioning his desire to be an eagle. It’s not long before Pratt and Hudson fall into conversation with the pilot; allowing Dahlia to comfortably settle into the background as the night winds down.

It’s not even the noon the following day before things around Hope County manage to pick up pace. Sirens and lights flashing as Pratt rushes them up north towards the mountain; there’s a palpable tension. Crisis situations are rare; most days filled with handing out traffic tickets and dealing with roadblocks. Hell, the county is boring enough that the sheriff would allow them to actively work on a festival during shift hours. So, a call requesting EMS, all deputies and units, and the F.A.N.G Center; is definitely out of the normal.

They see the gathering of people as they pull up, Whitehorse is talking with workers in F.A.N.G Center shirts, Hudson and other officers gathered around and EMS workers carrying someone into the back of an ambulance.

“Pratt, Rookie; over here now!” The sheriff calls out for them and they rush over.

“What’s going on?” Pratt is the one to ask.

“Wolf, possibly rabid, but we don’t know. It attacked a pair of hikers. We tried to tranq it but nothing is bringing it down, we gotta find it and put it down before it hurts anyone else.” The F.A.N.G Center employee explains to them.

“No way to get around killing it?” Dahlia asks, she understands it can’t always be avoided, but she would prefer not to.

“We hit that damn thing with enough tranq to take down an elephant and it still tried to maul us before running off; tried to get it with a snare pole and it broke it. We can’t rehabilitate an animal we can’t get near and if we let it go; it’ll hurt someone else.”

“You heard the man, alright,” Whitehorse’s voice booms as he starts addressing everyone, commanding attention “we got a wolf to find, grown wolf, white fur and aggressive. I want everyone to stay in groups; we have tranquilizers, snare poles, and what’s used to put ‘em down. We want to try to do it as humanely as possible but protect yourselves and keep an ear to your radio. We need to make sure the trails are safe and can’t let anyone else get bit; move out!”

The deputies are given tranquilizer guns, the snare poles, and syringes filled with pentobarbital. Though, given what they’ve been told, she’s not completely sure how effective any of it will be. If the wolf has enough tranquilizers to take down an elephant in it already and is still moving; as well as having previously broken one of the snare poles, then how on earth is any of this suppose to work?

But she doesn’t voice these concerns as she follows after Pratt, Hudson, and another police officer tagging along so they can maintain a decent sized group per Whitehorse’s instructions.

The mountains are beautiful, she thought that when she’s gone hiking before, but even during this tense situation she finds herself amazed by how gorgeous it is. Bright green summer grass and towering trees as far as the eye can see. Mountains that reach up to kiss the bright blue sky.

Dahlia stays at the back of the group, letting Pratt and Hudson lead as she keeps her ears and eyes peeled for anything suspicious. The sneer pole is across her shoulders, her wrists on top and holding it there as she walks. She half listens to Pratt and Hudson talk; something about people making up werewolf rumors because the wolves have been acting wilder and wilder lately. She’s reminded of her meal at the Grill Steak, that man who warned a group of people about wolves. He claimed they were trained by Eden’s Gate; but those still just sound like conspiracy theories.

Tension crawls up Stray’s spine, skin forming goosebumps at the sensation of being watched, then the sound of snapping branches coming from forests that surround the trail she walks along. She moves without thinking, leaving the trail and her group behind, following where she heard the noise.

Branches and brush scratch at her arms as she ventures deeper into the wooded area; then she sees his back. Jacob Seed, why does there always seem to be a member of their family just around the corner when trouble happens?

“Something you need,” he says, not bothering to turn and face her, examining his red rifle.

“You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I shouldn’t be,” he spares her a glance over his shoulder, blue eyes rife with condescension, “last time I checked it’s a free country, ain’t it?”

“That’s not what I mean. There’s a wolf running around; possibly rabid. It’s not safe for you to be out here alone.”

And he laughs; dry and deep, the sound making her raise her eyebrows. Why is the idea of being mauled by a rabid wolf so funny to him?

“You worrying about me?” He asks, finally turning to face her in full, shifting the bright red gun to the holster on his back.

“I mean, yes? My job is keeping the public safe and you are a member of the public.”

“Pfff, you’re just a pup,” he says walking past her, “be better off watching out for yourself.”

His hand is large and rough as it ruffles her hair while he walks by; his palm and fingers nearly encompassing the entire top of her head. His hand is probably bigger than her face she realizes, heat flushing up her face though she’s not sure of why. He’s so condescending and patronizing and fucking giant; the last point isn’t entirely relevant but it’s still true.

“I’m a deputy, don’t patronize me.” She says, reaching up to grab his hand from her head, capturing it in her own. His rough scarred hand is nearly double the size of her own; warm calloused skin against her own.

“You having fun there?” He asks, when she doesn’t let go of his hand right away, instead pressing her small hand back against his palm, comparing the immense size difference. He really could probably wrap one hand around her entire head.

“Your hands are so big, wow.”

“’Preciate it pup.”

And he laughs again, still dry and brief in it’s sound, pulling his giant hand from her smaller one before he leaves. She glares at his back; corded muscle shifting beneath his black tee shirt. Despite her pout, she can understand why he’d see her unable to defend herself in comparison to him. She’s been confident in her physical abilities for a while; but she imagines a man like Jacob isn’t scared of anything.

“Rook, where the hell are you?” Pratt’s voice crackles over her radio as Jacob walks off.

“There was a hunter out here, I was warning him about the wolf,” Dahlia explains herself, she wasn’t suppose to leave the group per Whitehorse’s orders, but no one could blame her for warning a civilian. There’s something odd about thinking of Jacob as just a hunter or civilian; though she’s not quite sure why.

“We’re in the woods near the Visitor’s Center, get over here, you pain in the ass.”

The radio crackles out and Dahlia gets on her way; she knows the Visitor’s Center is south of where she is. Though she has no sense of direction, so that has little bearing on her ability to find it. She hikes down, feeling that’s the closest approximation to south that she can get, sticking a little closer to the woods than the paths. She prefers the shade and atmosphere of being surrounded by the trees.

But the further she travels down, the sparser the trees grow, exposing Dahlia to the sun. Green grass and branches crushing underfoot as she stumbles down the terrain. She can just imagine Pratt and Hudson’s frustration, but warning someone about a rabid wolf is certainly understandable.

A drawn-out howl echoes through the woods, making the deputy freeze. Sunlight is warm on her face and stinging at her eyes as she turns towards the sound. A spire of craggy rocks coming off the mountain; the silhouette of a wolf howling with the sun behind it. She uses her hand to shield from the sunlight, straining to see more detail. Seven distinct darts stick from the wolves back; tranquilizers.

Dahlia quickly tugs her uniform shirt off from over her black tank top, wrapping the fabric around her forearm. Not quite the cushioned guard they use for training police dogs, but it will provide some barrier between it’s bite and her skin. Worse case scenario, she’ll be taking rabies shots once everything is done. She holds the syringe of pentobarbital in one hand, she has her firearm too if that’s unable to bring the wolf down, but she prefers to let it go peacefully if she can.

She stays crouched down as she approaches the peaked edge of the mountain, craggy rock building up to a spire, levels to climb up to reach the clearing where the wolf sits. Dahlia stays low as she climbs, moving as quietly as she can, using a blue grappling hook handle to help lift herself up to the final level. There’s a gap in the clearing; a log showing a passage between craggy rock to craggy rock; boulders surrounded by grass. She can see the wolf, but it’s yet to noticed her, another howl echoing out as it cries out to the sky.

It’s beautiful and she’s all at once ashamed that it has to be put down. Matted white fur with a black nose and lips; it’s eyes are luminously silver, like moonlight. Red is mottled across it’s face, red frothing around it’s mouth, as well as a brighter crimson stroked across it’s brow and down it’s nose. Across it’s furred shoulder blade and spine are seven different tranquilizer darts that were shot at it, how has it not passed out? It doesn’t see her not right away, then it’s nostrils twitch and it’s lips pull back to snarl, red tinged drool dripping down it’s maw. Then it’s gaze is on her, growling and baring it’s teeth.

And then it pounces.

She puts up her cloth wrapped forearm, the force of it’s body hitting hers knocks her onto her back. It’s teeth snap into the fabric, as it tries to chew through her arm, the edges of fangs just grazing the flesh beneath. One large paw presses against her wrist, attempting to pin her limb down so it can rip the meat off her bones.

Dahlia pulls back the plunger on the syringe before slamming the needle into the thick of the wolves neck, sinking through fur and flesh before she pushes the chemical through. The wolf snarls through it’s bite on it, then she watches that shine in it’s silver eyes die. It’s mouth goes slack and then it’s body falls limp on top of her.

The deputy pushes the wolves dead weight off of her, getting up onto her feet, she touches the torn shirt wrapped around her forearm. Drool and blood has stained the green, small damage done to her skin under. It stings but nothing she can’t deal with; the idea of getting rabies shots worries her more. She crouches over the wolf and looks at it’s face, the red around it’s mouth is darker, rusted and clearly blood. But the brighter more purposeful crimson looks like paint.

She remembers the warnings she overheard in the Grill Steak before; someone warning conservationists about wolves owned by Eden’s Gate. Though, he called them a cult. It’s not for sure or a real connection; conspiracy theories and paint. But, who could have gotten close enough to paint the wolf’s face? Who would want to?

“Rookie,” Pratt’s voice crackles over her radio.

“Pratt…”

“Rook, if you’re not here in five minutes, I’m gonna kick your ass,” Hudson threatens in the background.

“Please, she’d probably like that.”

Dahlia’s face flushes at Pratt’s teasing, she can’t say he’s completely wrong, but that’s not the point. She hefts the wolf’s corpse up onto her shoulder, carrying it’s heavy weight, the head of the furry creature beside her head. It’s fur is soft and thick despite the matted nature. She’s not big on hunting culture, but the wolf would make a nice rug.

“I got the wolf,” she says into her radio, holding it in one hand while the other keeps the carcass steady on her shoulder as she carefully makes her way down the craggy rocks.

“What?”

“I got the wolf,” she repeats to Pratt’s flat question.

“What? Wh-where the fuck are you?.”

“I’m on a big ass like spirally mountain thing.”

“That tells us literally nothing,” Hudson informs her.

“Uhhhh,” Dahlia looks over the edge, of the elevated mountainside, “I think I see a helipad nearby?”

“Fuck, I know where you are, stay put. Okay, do not approach the wolf.”

“Uhhh, I think you misunderstood me.”

“What do you mean?” Pratt asks and she can just imagine his raised eyebrow.

“I mean, I got the wolf, I already put it down. We can call off the search, but, uh, I think we have bigger issues.”

“Did you get hurt again?”

“Hey,” she objects to his tone, “you make it sound like I’m always getting hurt.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“No, I did not get…seriously hurt.”

“Oh lord,” Hudson grumbles in the background.

“Look, that’s not the issue, alright. Just get up here and let Whitehorse know what’s going on, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Dahlia finds a steady rock in the clearing to pull herself up onto as she waits, since apparently Hudson and Pratt have figured out where she is. She tries to look for anything else on the wolf that could indicate it being owned; but nothing. Dahlia does find herself wondering why it’s fur is white? Aren’t white wolves usually those in snowy climates, for camouflage?

She doubts she’ll receive any answers, so she tries to quiet her mind. The sun warms her skin where she sits on the rock, white wolf still up on her shoulder, ripped uniform shirt still wrapped around her forearm. It all forms an odd picture, she’s certain.

It’s less than an hour or so before she hears the rustle of footsteps; Hudson and Pratt along with the other officer walking up the way to her. Pratt just stops a second and shakes his head, Hudson is rolling her eyes.

“Hello,” Dahlia says with a soft wave.

“What the actual fuck, Rook?”

And she cracks up; unable to help but laugh at the absolute absurdity of the situation and Hudson’s flat response. She may have already hit the highlight of her career here.

“Stop laughing; it’s not funny, you could have gotten seriously hurt!” Pratt tries to scold her but he’s laughing through his words, the oddity of it all must be hitting him as well. Dahlia presses a hand to mouth to try and stifle her laughter as Hudson gets her radio out.

The senior deputy radios Whitehorse, letting him know they’ve gotten the wolf. He tells them where to meet him with the body, so the veterinarian and F.A.N.G Center workers can examine it. Dahlia will be reliant on actually listening and following obediently behind the older deputies.

“C’mon, Rookie, let go.”

“Alright.” Dahlia hops down from her rock and starts to follow after them down the mountain.

“You need help packing that?” Pratt offers, probably because the wolf is nearly the length of her entire body.

“Nah.”

“You just feel cool packing the wolf on your back, don’t you?” Hudson is the one to call her out, raising her eyebrow with a soft smirk on her lips, looking entirely too pretty.

“Uhhh….”

“God, you’re a dork.”

“I can’t really argue with that,” Dahlia admits with a red face and shrug of her shoulders, happy to see Pratt and Hudson smiling at her dorkiness.

“What happened with the hunter you were warning?” Pratt asks after a beat of silence as they keep walking, helping her over a craggy step with a hand on her hip to keep her steady as the weight of the wolf limits her movements.

“Uh, asshole just patronized me and left. I don’t know why I still talk to him, he’s always a dick,” she says, rolling her eyes when she thinks about Jacob calling her a pup. He likes to comment on her being a puppy a lot.

“Someone you knew?” Hudson asks, offering a hand to help Dahlia get over a large branch in the way of the path. The ease at which the two older deputies silently help her, makes a soft smile pull at Dahlia’s lips. Silently grateful for them as she answers their questions.

“Jacob Seed.”

“Seriously?’

“What?”

“You don’t find it a little fuckin’ weird how the Seeds are always around you?”

“I mean, they’re not around me anymore than anyone else.”

“They really fucking are; you went to the barbecue, John jumped at the chance to rope you into that.”

“Churches like new blood, it’s n-“

“You’ve apparently talked to Jacob more than once; I didn’t even know he could talk,” Hudson says rolling her eyes, “all he ever does at anyone outside the church is glare.”

“She’s talked to Faith a lot too, apparently.”

“I still don’t even know where she fucking came from.”

“I’m still not fully convinced she isn’t a ghost,” Pratt tells Hudson.

“She’s not a ghost,” Dahlia says with a roll of her eyes.

“And you would know, because they cling to you like leeches, right?”

“Shut up.”

“You know what I think it is,” Hudson says after a moment, “you put up with Joseph’s creepy ass speeches and they realized you’d put up with anything.”

“He’s not….that…creepy…” Dahlia says with zero conviction, because, well. He’s definitely off, but despite all the weird little red flags, he did help her and Cassie. So, he can’t be all bad. Even if his brother is taking people’s shit…and well…she still doesn’t know what the hell was up with the shaved head person.

“You can’t even say that with a straight face.”

“Look, we’ve had run ins with him before, he’s the weirdest creepiest person in this whole damn county and that is saying something,” Hudson shudders, “I’d take Zip lecturing me on being a government shill for nine hours over Joseph even looking at me for even a second.”

“His stare is weirdly intense…”

“All of them are weird; John’s skeevy, Jacob looks like he skins people alive in his spare time…Faith’s kinda cute, but at what cost,” Pratt tells her and eh, Faith’s not really her type. The Church Mouse is pretty, but a bit too delicate for the young deputy to really get those weird stomach feelings she gets around women like Hudson or Mary May.

“Really, I didn’t think you liked women who are taller than you?” Hudson asks.

“Faith is like barely taller than me,” Dahlia says with a snort, watching the pure look of offense on Pratt’s face, how could she be taller than Pratt?

“How short do you think I am, Joey?’

“What?” Hudson raises an eyebrow, confused by their confusion, “ heard she was like six foot something with black hair.”

“She’s like this tall,” Pratt puts his hand maybe two inches above Dahlia’s head, “and blonde.”

“Kinda blonde,” Dahlia corrects, thinking of the youngest Seed siblings dirty blonde hair that fades to a slightly light color at the ends. It toes the line between brown and blonde fairly well.

“Whatever.”

“Someone told me she was taller than John, I know they did, am I losing my mind?” Hudson tries to think for a moment; gears visibly turning behind her green eyes.

“Did you ever really have it?” Pratt taunts her.

“Keep it up, asshole, see what fuckin’ happens.”

The trio makes it down to where the sheriff asked, a parking place within the northern area of the county with little gas pumps but not much else. The F.A.N.G Center employees and the veterinarian with a stethoscope around his neck waiting for them as they make their way over. A worker with the center helps get the stiffening wolf off of Dahlia’s back, putting it into the back of a van so they can take it to be examined.

“Good work, Deputies,” Whitehorse congratulates them and Dahlia grins at the praise.

“To be completely fair,” Hudson interjects, “it was Rook who was able to get him.”

“Hey, we helped…move the body…” Pratt jokes, in their own ways they’re both ensuring Dahlia gets her due credit and she can’t help but smile.

“Well, outstanding work, Rookie.”

“Thanks, but uh, I’m kind worried about something.”

“What’s that?’ The sheriff asks, the attention of him, the veterinarian, and center workers all falling on Dahlia.

“The wolf has paint on it’s face, like a cross or something…which kinda makes me think someone owned it or…something?’

“Yeah, that’s definitely not all blood.” A worker looking over the wolf’s face in the van confirms.

“There’s nothing else on it, but we definitely will have to keep that in mind.”

“But, uh, what happens from here?” Dahlia asks.

“I’ll test to see if it’s rabid or if anything else might be the cause for the aggression,” the veterinarian, his name tag she finally catches says Dr. Charles Lindsay, “I’ll let the hospital know and if needed, the hiker will get treated for rabies.”

“Ah, uhh, is there any possible way you could let us know at the same time…well let me know…?”

“Why…?”

“I may have been slightly bit.”

“Slightly?” Pratt is the one to yell out, incredulous at Dahlia’s description of her injury.

“Just a little bit,” She brings two fingers close together in front of her for added effect.

“Jesus fuck, can you just not get hurt for like a week?”

“No, clearly not.”

“Pratt, take her out to the clinic,” Whitehorse says with a heavy sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t need a doctor.”

“Yes, you do. Even if the bite ain’t too bad, you never know if it’s infected. Not only could the wolf be carrying something, but it had someone else’s blood in it’s mouth. This isn’t optional, Rookie, you’re going to the clinic and that’s an order.”

Dahlia can’t and won’t argue with the sheriff on that. Instead shrinking slightly at the realization that her own disregard for her own safety has gotten her scolded despite her accomplishment. She doesn’t think about risks to herself; she needed the wolf put down to save others and if the worst case scenario is her own well-being being sacrificed, that’s worth it to help others, isn’t it?

“C’mon, Wolf-Bait lets get going,” Pratt says, giving her a light smack on the shoulder to follow him.

“I’m coming, asshole.”

She follows behind Pratt, back to the cruiser where they parked at the beginning of this day. The sun has long since set, the moon now bright and high in the sky as she climbs into the passenger side seat. Unable to stop herself from pouting slightly that she’s being forced to go to the clinic again. Even if she understands why.

“Hey,” Pratt gets her attention as he starts up the cruiser engine, “if it makes you feel any better. I’ll be happy to put you out of your misery if it turns out to be a werewolf.”

“Fuck you!” She yells out through a laugh; his dumb joke bringing a smile back to her face as they go off to the clinic.

She’s at the clinic late that night, her injury doesn’t need stitches just some bandaging, some bloodwork and tests done to account for anything that could be wrong. Then she’s sent home with antibiotics; the entire time Pratt making jokes about werewolves and silver bullets like a nerd. All that’s left is crashing for the night and eventually hearing if she has rabies.

Dahlia sleeps easily that night; thanks to her adrenaline crashing down. She sleeps in the night morning, Saturday never being such a blissful treat for her as she manages to not wake up until around noon.

The young deputy takes her time when she gets up, eating cereal and grabbing a shower. Faith mentioned her being able to see Cassie at the convent this weekend spending a day together, so that’s her plan on top of doing the rounds on roping folks into the Apple Festival.

The Convent isn’t far from the trailer park, two buildings seated before the edge of a cliff with craggy staggered mountain range covered in trees beside it. So many mountains and cliffs within the county. The larger of the buildings has dark roofing, a smaller white church with white latticing canopies between them. Like the material used to construct a gazebo and fields upon fields of the white moonflowers.

Before Dahlia can step too far onto the property, a woman with long baby blonde hair with flower tattoos spiraling up her arms and the sin of GREED across her chest runs up to stop her.

“Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, I was here to see Cassie.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but our sister Cassandra is busy today.”

“Sister?” Dahlia asks, blood running cold for a moment. She can’t seriously mean…Cassie wasn’t interested in joining, she just needed shelter.

“Well yes, she’s opened her heart to the Father, a child of Eden’s Gate now.”

“Interesting…” Dahlia clenches her jaw, “Faith said that I could come see her today.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s not possible, she’s been busy with finding salvation. She’s with herald John, giving her confession, she can’t possibly be bothered right now.”

“I-”

“Deputy~!” Faith’s sing song voice rings out and Dahlia can’t help but still feel angry, they were supposed to help Cassie, not convert her. The youngest Seed sibling rushes over, nearly floating with the ethereal energy only she can manage. Her white floral dress of the day has a halter neckline and flowers are woven into her braided hair.

“Faith…”

“I’m so sorry; I heard, I know you were excited to spend time with me and Cassie today, but I’m afraid things just became too busy with her deciding to join us here.”

“Yeah…what the fuck?”

“Excuse me?” Faith says, her pretty little smile fading for a moment.

“Cassie needed shelter, not Jesus, so I reiterate…what the fuck?” Dahlia gestures wildly, anger tinging her words. Her blood pressure rising and heat crawling up under her skin like pins and needles.

“Cassie is an adult, she made a choice to join us. Surely, you can’t deny her that freedom, deputy?” Faith’s face pulls into a pout, making Dahlia feel unreasonable all at once, but Cassie was never interested in the religion aspect.

“Yes, she’s an adult, but she was vulnerable, and I don’t think leaping into a religion when you’re in a shitty place is the best move. I-I wanna talk to her myself.”

“Well, I’m afraid that can’t happen, not today. But, maybe next weekend or you could write a letter of course.”

“She still hasn’t responded to my last letter…”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Faith puts a hand on Dahlia’s shoulder, meant to be comforting but the deputy flinches away, “as I said, it’s been impossibly busy, she’s been studying our beliefs and methods of joining. It’s a long process at times, very time consuming, but I assure you…Cassie opening her heart to the Father doesn’t mean it’s been closed to you.”

“Yeah, sure, just too busy.”

“Well, you’ve certainly been busy too, haven’t you?” She tilts her head delicately to the side, still smiling.

“I have?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow.

“Mmm hmm, John’s already learned of you helping put together an apple festival.”

“Oh, yeah, Debbie and Doug wanna save that place so why not, I figure.”

“Yes, we’ve been hearing all about it, John’s not exactly thrilled.”

“Nothing personal to it…”

“I figured, I’m not upset, I promise,” Faith offers a soft smile, “the orchard will end up in the rightful hands no matter what. John just worries a lot about getting land for our church, after all we’re growing by the day and need space for our people.”

“And Debbie and Doug worry a lot about keeping their livelihood, ya know?”

“Like, I said, I have no ill will over it, I’m just interested to see you’re so full of surprises.”

“I am?”

“Mmm hmm,” she giggles, but offers no more information, like she knows a secret that Dahlia doesn’t. But before Dahlia can ask another question, a sight among the convent makes her breath catch in her throat.

Shaved head men and women; tending to fields of those flowers, masks across their face. So, they’re definitely with Eden’s Gate as if she really had to question. They work silently, tending to the fields of moonflowers in their white sweaters.

“Who are they?” Dahlia asks, giving Faith a pointed look. The girl’s eyes move back and forth from the deputy to the workers.

“Oh, those are our angels,” she answers, grinning, “they’re high ranking members of our church, so devoted to The Father they’ve taken vows of silence and dedicate their lives to helping The Project. Amazing, aren’t they?”

“Vows of silence, huh?” Dahlia says, more to herself than Faith. Then why did they mumble lyrics and scream out…why would they attack Dahlia? Is Faith lying to her, she’s got to be, right?

“You know, deputy, if you’re so interested in The Project, The Father would still happily let you join our family.”

“Hmmm, I’m sure, didn’t realize there was a huge process to it though…” Dahlia comments, hoping Faith will elaborate, what the hell kind of hoops did Cassie jump through? Confession, is all she really knows.

“Well, “ Faith grabs both of Dahlia’s hands in her own, smiling, “we ask for our new family members to prove they see the truth of our faith, to prove their dedication, rid themselves of their sins and make sacrifices in order to truly cut their ties with sin.”

“That’s-“

“Faith, there’s a call from the conservatory!” Someone calls out and Dahlia’s words die on her lips; the notion that Faith’s description is vague and generally unhelpful.

“I’ll be right there, see you later deputy, hopefully we can meet with Cassie next weekend.” Faith waves her goodbye and then leaves.

Stray straightens her jacket before leaving the convent, a flood of unanswered questions and doubts in her mind. Everyday something new worries her about Eden’s Gate. If Faith’s lying…that’s fucking bullshit. She doesn’t want to imagine that Faith would lie to her face like that. But, why would their oh so special angels, even the name makes her roll her eyes, be screaming and murmuring despite vows of silences? Why would they attack her?

The rest of her Saturday is spent speaking to people about the Apple Festival, roping Chad from the Grill Steak into it. At least, she believes she did, she’s not completely sure of anything he says. His dialect unintelligible, so she just upped her cajun dialect until she barely knew what she was saying either. Its good busy work, getting places to hang up advertisements, though her heart and mind are somewhere else the entire time. She’s thankful that most people are just genuinely invested in helping; because she certainly isn’t getting by on her charisma.

Her night is spent with trying to distract herself, but thoughts always coming back to the weirdness of Eden’s Gate, to her doubts. Wondering what exactly led to Cassie’s conversion… She’s being silly, she tells herself time and time again, but something just doesn’t feel right lately. Maybe she’s overeating; seeing connections and red flags where none exists. But, the case remains that no tv, manga, music, or drawing can distract her that night.

There’s still a slight cloud looming over Dahlia when she arrives at the orchard Sunday, ready to taste Debbie’s baked apple goods. The sun is high in sky and the smell of apples lifts her mood slightly; but she finds herself still distracted as she parks her bike.

“Deputy!” Debbie greets her and Dahlia gives the warmest smile she can muster. The older woman’s smile helping lift some of that cloud.

“Hey.”

“Staci’s already here, c’mon, we’ll sit in the market stall,” Debbie gushes bring Dahlia over to the picnic tables that are under the covering; where they first talked about the festival.

Pratt is already there; the smell of baked sugar and apples hits Dahlia’s nose before she even sees the array of food Debbie’s put out. Apple pie, apple dumplings, apple scones, and she’s sure that’s just the beginning.

“Hey dumbass,” Pratt greets her around a mouthful of apple pie as she sits down next to him.

“You couldn’t wait like five minutes?”

“Nope.”

“Ass.”

The deputy’s feedback is predominantly noises of happiness; neither really food critics but happy to be shoving it in their mouths. The gloomy cloud is starting to lift by the time they’ve finished off a pie; cinnamon, sugar, and apples warm on her tongue. Apple dumplings settle warm in her stomach and she forgets why she was ever upset. The scones are munched down next; cream sticking to her fingers and lips as she eats.

“God you’re a mess,” Pratt taunts and she sputters a laugh when she turns to face him.

“You have food in your beard, asshole.”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath and starts wiping at his face.

The stuff their faces for a long while longer; strudel, apple cake, apple cobbler, candy apples, and fritters. Pratt leans back from the table, pressing a hand to his face after a while.

“You alright?” Dahlia asks, raising her eyebrow.

“Debbie is gonna have to roll me out of here at this rate; are you not fuckin’ full yet?”

“…No…” She pauses, before shoving more cobbler and whip cream in her mouth. Debbie and Dough are off rushing to get more goodies.

“Jesus fuck, Rook.”

“You’re just a baby.”

“Shut up,” he leans back away from the table and runs a hand back into his hair, “hey, Rook?”

“Hmm?”

“You ever gonna shoot your shot with Joey?”

“What?!” She chokes on her food, just barely stopping it from flying out of her mouth, where the actual fuck did that come from?

“Your little crush on her, you ever gonna do something about it?”

“Like what?”

“Ask her out, you know, like people do.”

“Yeah…why the fuck would I do that?” She cannot grasp his logic here.

“I don’t know how to explain to you that when people have crushes; they ask the person out.”

“I don’t know how to explain to you that that would be really fucking stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because I already know the answer, there’s no way she’d say yes, and frankly if she did I’d be concerned.”

“Concerned?”

“Yeah, who in their right fuckin’ mind would say yes to me?!”

“So, you wanna act weird around her forever and never deal with it?”

“That was the plan.”

“I’m just saying the sooner you rip the band-aid off, the quicker you can act like a normal person around her.”

Dahlia sighs, she doesn’t want to act like a freak around Hudson for the rest of her life or for her little crush or whatever to get the way of life. Pratt knows more about this crap than her, because everyone does. So, if he’s saying this would help, maybe it would? But, her brain still is struggling.

“But I already know she’s gonna say no, you know she’s gonna say no, literally anyone with a functioning braincell knows she’d say no. So, why would hearing her say no make a difference?”

“Its like closure and shit; I think it’d help.”

“Ugh, just sounds like an excuse to make an idiot out of myself.”

“Compared to the genius you usually are?”

“Fuck off.”

She swallows down a mouthful of strudel before the conversation can continue, but Pratt’s words stick with her. It’s not as if she needed any more on her mind, but she got it anyway. The two continue taste testing for Debbie, though the subject of Hudson never comes up. She’s not sure why Pratt is suddenly so keen on helping her work through her little crush, a friendly gesture, she figures. Maybe her life would be a little easier if she could stop turning into a red-faced mess around the oldest deputy.

It’s late when they finally finish tasting everything; Dahlia giving friendly goodbyes to Pratt and the couple before she goes back home. Her weekend coming to a close with her falling asleep with a stomach full of baked apples.

She’s woken up to her phone ringing; instead of her alarm. Dahlia already knows well that despite shift hours, the nature of their work and the higher level of being deputy means that being called out at odd hours is expected. But her blood runs cold when she sees sheriff Whitehorse is the one calling, something is wrong.

“Sheriff?” She answers, sitting up on the couch.

“Rook; I already called Pratt and Hudson, I want you all at the clinic now! It’s an emergency!”

And that’s all she gets before the call ends. She throws on a uniform and runs out the door, jumping on her motorcycle. Mind racing with each passing second. The hurried and frantic tone in Whitehorse’s voice flaring anxiety inside of her. A million possibilities shooting through her mind as she rides towards the clinic; is it about the wolf? Has there been a murder? Is someone she knows hurt? Could it be an officer?

She’s practically tripping over herself as she climbs off her bike, running into the clinic. The staff is a mess, nurses rushing frantically to attend to someone. Words of transferring, stabilizing, blood transfusion. Something is wrong. Each word swims around her head, but she doesn’t know who they’re talking about. Then she sees Whitehorse, Hudson, and Pratt at the front desk. The three living closer than her.

“What’s wrong?” Dahlia asks running over; all three’s expressions are tense. Pratt shaking his leg, Hudson digging her nails into her arms until her knuckles turn white, and Whitehorse looking a moment away from collapsing.

“It’s Pastor Jerome,” Whitehorse tells her, “someone attacked him.”

“Left for fucking dead,” Hudson interjects, a crack in her voice that Dahlia’s never heard before.

“They’re trying to stabilize him long enough to transfer him to a hospital in Missoula. We need to make sure it stays secure, no telling if whoever did this won’t try to do something again, and we need to be there to ask questions once he’s out of the woods. I don’t want this slipping through the cracks, Jerome’s a good man and he damn well deserves our best effort.”

“Got it,” Dahlia nods in agreement to the sheriffs words.

Images of the man in the priest collar coming to mind. She’s seen him in passing, never a conversation between the two. But she saw him speak with Whitehorse; Pratt implied that both him and Hudson went to Jerome’s church as kids. He means something to them all and that’s clear in just how serious it’s being taken; obvious in how shaken up they all seem to be.

She stands next to Pratt, squeezing his shoulder in an attempt to comfort, wishing she could offer more. He tries to give her a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, too worried about the pastor.

Why would anyone attack him? His church is modest, nearly dying out from everything she’s been told, it wouldn’t make sense to rob him. Hope County has some less than accepting residents; but the idea of a potential hate crime is a hard pill to swallow…

All Dahlia can do is wait with her coworkers, listening to the frantic yells of nurses struggling to save a man’s life. Heart in her throat, anxiety telling her that any second this will become a murder investigation as she watches the hands on a clock ticking away…

#far cry 5 #fc5 #jacob seed #staci pratt #faith seed #uhhh they're the most prevalent this chapter

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callboxkat · 5 years

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Infinitesimal (part 50)

Author’s note: I’m not sure whether you guys should be angry at my internet router for delaying this chapter by a day, or happy with it because the chapter got about 1000 words longer because I kept writing out of spite.

Anyway... I never, never, expected this story of mine to reach 50 parts. It’s really thanks to you guys that it has. So, thank you! Thank you for supporting it, for commenting, liking, reblogging, and reading this little story of mine.

Yes, that was a pun. No, I’m not sorry.

Warnings: Food mention, some envy, fear, injury mention, illness

Word count: 4031

Masterpost!

...

Virgil and Patton were sitting together at Emile’s side, drawing pictures. They let Emile decide what they would draw, since his hold on a pencil was still too shaky for him to draw well, or at least, well enough that he wouldn’t get frustrated; and they didn’t want him to feel left out or bored. Therefore, Patton was drawing a purple hedgehog, and Virgil was drawing the character Stitch. Virgil hadn’t actually seen the movie that the character was from, but he had a pretty good idea of how he looked, and Emile was more or less directing him. He had a very good memory when it came to cartoon characters.

Virgil quickly realized that the dark blue colored pencil that the humans had given them was definitely not the right one for Stitch’s fur, but Emile seemed to find the result more amusing than anything else, so Virgil counted it as a win.

He kept drawing for a while, then glanced over at Patton’s picture, which was almost complete. Virgil thought it was pretty obvious that Patton had gotten the easier task out of the two of them. Virgil’s drawing was a lot more complex, and Emile was bound to scrutinize it more, given that it was based on an existing character, and one that he loved dearly. Virgil was pretty sure this was purposeful, knowing his older brother. But that was okay. The fact that Emile felt well enough to mess with him had to be a good sign.

They kept drawing for a while. Patton technically finished well before Virgil, but he kept drawing little hearts around his hedgehog until Virgil had finished his approximation of Stitch. Once he’d finally finished, he set his colored pencils to the side and put the drawing in Emile’s lap along with Patton’s. His brother grinned in a lopsided fashion, looking at it. Virgil knew that it was objectively not very good, but he was okay with that.

“Demon Stitch?” Emile asked, his tone teasing. Patton leaned over to look.

“So, it’s an improvement on the original,” Virgil concluded slyly.

“I think he’s cute,” Patton claimed.

“You’d say that about anything I drew,” Virgil said.

“Because it’s true.”

“A cute demon,” Emile decided. He thought for a moment. “Like the real Stitch.”

Deciding not to point out that there was no such thing as a real Stitch, Virgil sat up and stretched, his shoulders and back popping in a very satisfying way.

Patton picked up the hedgehog he had drawn and started to show it to Emile, pointing at its cute black nose and nubby little legs. Emile seemed just as happy with it as he had been with Virgil’s drawing.

“I’m gonna get some water,” he announced. He grabbed his crutches and got to his feet, walking over to where the humans had left a pair of water-filled bottle caps that day.

He could feel Patton’s eyes on him as he got up—his friend hand been watching him more closely lately, although Virgil wasn’t sure why. He guessed that it had something to do with his bad foot, but that injury was nothing new. His foot had been hurting him more than usual, since he’d landed on it pretty hard when he caught Patton after his friend fainted while searching for Emile, but that was several days ago. It was better now. And he hadn’t even mentioned it to Patton, or Emile, at all. He was fine. Patton didn’t need to worry about him.

He reached the bottle cap and knelt down beside it, grabbing a sunflower seed shell to use as a cup, a trick he’d picked up from Patton. He had just finished his drink when he heard footsteps; and he looked up to see one of the humans, Roman this time, standing there. He had a blanket around his shoulders and a simultaneously hopeful and guilty look in his eyes.

“Hi,” the human said.

…

Roman was tired of sitting in his room all day. Sure, he’d only been stuck in there for a few days, but he was bored.

He supposed he should be grateful. To Logan, for helping to take care of him, and to his manager, for being amazing and letting him take off as much time as he needed until he was well. She justified that if Roman went to work too soon, he’d just get sicker, and his wheezing might scare customers. Roman loved her. And he was grateful. Really.

But mostly, he just wanted to go outside. It wasn’t his fault the weather was trying to kill him.

Roman huffed, looking down at his phone. The loading symbol spun slowly on the screen where his movie was supposed to be playing. The app he was using hadn’t been working for a while now, not since Logan had stopped by for lunch.

After another minute or two of just watching the loading percentage sit at 99, Roman closed out of the app.

He sat there for a moment, then glanced at the closed bedroom door. Maybe he couldn’t go outside, but he could at least leave his room. Maybe the app would be more willing to load in the kitchen, marginally closer to the router. And if it didn’t… well, Roman couldn’t help but be tempted by another option.

Roman kicked off his blankets, and then got slowly to his feet. He put his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants, grabbed one of the blankets off of the bed to wrap around his shoulders, stuck his feet into his slippers, and shuffled over to the door.

He sat down at the kitchen table at first, and stayed there for a minute while he tried again to load his app. He wasn’t all that surprised to find that it didn’t work here either; and to be honest, he wasn’t all that disappointed. The kitchen table wasn’t the most comfortable place to watch a movie, and now he had more of an excuse for his other option. His eyes flicked towards the living room at the thought.

Hardly daring to hope, Roman wrapped himself up in the blanket and walked up to the other room. He hoped the mouse-men were feeling friendly.

…

Initially, of course, he was flatly rejected. Virgil was predictably against any idea that meant being around the humans for any amount of time longer than necessary.

But the mouse-man’s brother had perked up visibly at the idea, despite his clear apprehension at the fact that Roman would be in the room. And Patton seemed supportive, if shy about that support.

While the three of them debated, Roman shuffled from foot to foot in the doorway, stifling wheezes and only allowing himself to occasionally glance in the mouse-men’s direction.

Finally, probably because of Emile, Virgil caved. He looked up towards Roman, his arms crossed, and simply said, “Fine.”

Roman couldn’t help the small, excited smile that snuck upon his face. He stepped into the living room, careful to move slowly, and sat down on the couch with his legs bundled up next to him. He grabbed the remote and turned on the television, glad that the volume was already set low.

He knew Emile would probably still be too nervous to tell Roman what he wanted to watch, but Roman already had a movie in mind, one that he was sure the mouse-man would like. He’d seen the image of the balloon-carried house on Emile’s blanket, and whether or not he’d actually seen the movie that inspired it, Roman was sure that the little guy would enjoy it. Even aside from already being familiar to the mouse-men, Up was a great movie. It had a love story, adventure, and talking dogs. What else could you want from a film?

…

Emile hoped that he hadn’t made a mistake. But in his defense, the human had promised cartoons. And, well, Emile loved cartoons.

Plus, it wasn’t as if this human had hurt him or his family, right? He seemed nice, for a human, based on Patton’s stories and how he’d treated them since Emile’s accident.

Still, he watched apprehensively as the human turned on the television and brought up the movie he planned to watch. Roman was curled up on the sofa in his scarlet pajama pants, white t-shirt, and slippers, with his hair sticking up slightly and a fuzzy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His breaths were more labored than Emile thought was normal for a human, which made sense, since he’d heard that the human was sick.

In short, Roman wouldn’t have looked at all threatening, if only he wasn’t so enormous.

The opening sequence for the film started playing, and Emile glanced towards the television. He bit back a gasp, realizing that he recognized what was on the screen. It was Up, one of his absolute favorite movies.

He’d never actually seen it in its entirety, since, as a little, he didn’t get to watch much television to begin with; and on the rare occasion that he did watch it, he had to watch whatever the humans in that apartment happened to be watching. Only on a couple of occasions had he been able to watch this movie, and he’d never gotten to see how it ended.

Emile couldn’t deny that he was excited about the prospect, even if a human was in the room with him.

A voice interrupted his thoughts, large despite its owner trying to muffle its volume. “Is this movie okay?”

Emile flinched despite himself, unable to help being jumpy with a human in the room, sending a small jolt of pain through his injured shoulder and head.

Patton and Virgil both looked to Emile for an answer. Virgil didn’t seem happy, but Patton was gave him a supportive look. Emile swallowed and offered one small nod, subconsciously fastening his hand on the blanket that Patton had brought from home. Yes, he could bear watching television with a human—one who knew he was there—if it meant he got to see Up.

“It’ll be fine,” he whispered to Virgil. His younger brother just sighed and settled in, apparently determined to keep an eye on Roman during the film.

…

At first, the room was still and silent other than the movie, creating a somewhat awkward atmosphere. Roman got as comfortable as he could, keeping his movements slow as he tried to find a position that was both cozy and easy to breathe in. As he lay there, he did his best to not feel offended or hurt by how reluctant the mouse-men had been to let Roman watch television with them; but sometimes they made him start to feel as if he were some huge, disgusting monster. It wasn’t his fault he was so much bigger than them. That, and Virgil kept staring at him.

So, at first, it was a bit awkward.

But soon enough, Roman was drawn into the story; and he was able to forget about the awkwardness and the feeling of Virgil’s stare as it bored into him.

Apparently, the same had been happening with the mouse-men. When Ellie, Mr. Fredricksen’s wife, fell ill, he heard a small gasp from their direction, only for it to be quickly stifled. That had been Emile, if Roman had to guess. All three of them seemed to be trying to keep from getting too immersed in the film with Roman there. But as the movie continued, and Roman kept his eyes firmly on the screen, they seemed to grow more comfortable.

Patton and Emile gasped, laughed, and maybe even cried, reacting at all the right parts. Emile had trouble containing his excitement whenever Kevin was on screen, and Patton quietly gushed about how cute Dug was. After a while, even Virgil (mostly) stopped staring down Roman to watch. Through it all, Roman took great care to not so much as move, afraid that they’d stop if he gave any sign of acknowledging their presence. He just listened, smiling softly to himself as the movie played. Patton so rarely smiled or laughed, and his companions deserved some enjoyment to take their minds off of what they had been through. Even if it was for the hour and a half run of this movie.

…

When the story came to a close and the credits started to roll, Roman finally allowed himself to move. All three of the mouse-men’s gazes turned to him, making Roman feel self-conscious.

He stretched, muffling a cough, and looked towards them.

“Want to watch something else?” he asked. “Or, I guess… we could always watch this again.”

Roman had made that second suggestion mostly as a joke, but Emile’s mouth fell open at the possibility.

“You can do that?” he asked, so soft that Roman barely heard him. He seemed surprised enough that it overrode his fear of speaking to Roman. Obviously he knew that humans could control what televisions played, to an extent at least, but the fact that Roman could just play the same thing over again if he wanted to seemed like almost too much for the little guy to believe.

Roman nodded.

Virgil gave him a sharp, meaningful look, and Roman reached for the remote. “Okay, we’ll watch it again. I’m gonna….” He muffled a cough. “I’ll be right back. Ten minutes, then movie?” He didn’t want to have to get up in the middle of it and bother the mouse-men.

Virgil narrowed his eyes, but he nodded.

Alright, then. They were going to watch Up twice in one day. That was okay with Roman. More than okay, in fact, since it meant getting to spend more time with the mouse-men.

…

It was dark before Logan finally got home, tired from a long day at work. He wished that his boss didn’t take Logan being on break from school as a reason to give him longer shifts. It more or less nullified any sort of respite he might have gotten from his normally busy schedule. He just wanted to put away his things, loosen his tie, and relax for a while with a good book. There was some time before dinner, he reasoned as he trudged up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment building. He could get in some reading first.

He reached the landing, very glad for the sake of his sore feet that he didn’t live higher up in the building. Logan never took the elevator. He claimed that it was for the health benefits that taking the stairs provided; but while that was certainly an added reward, Logan simply hated elevators. It was illogical, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. They were small, and cramped, and smelled weird, and he didn’t like them.

So, this very tired Logan was glad that he had only had to walk up one flight of stairs. He soon reached his own apartment and gratefully unlocked the door. He stepped inside with a relieved sigh and closed the door behind him.

He removed his shoes and set down his bag, pausing as he heard sound coming from nearby. It was fairly soft, but not so soft that Logan believed it to be coming from a different apartment.

When he walked further inside, to the middle of the kitchen, Logan’s suspicions were confirmed. The television was on, playing an animated movie. He could see the top of Roman’s head where he lay on the couch, his curly hair illuminated by the light of the television.

Logan took a few more steps, just until he could see the “mouse-men”. To his surprise, they all seemed to be watching the movie along with Roman. He’d been worried, just slightly, that Roman might have been making them uncomfortable by intruding to watch his frivolous film, but it seemed that that was not the case. Logan should have known better, he supposed. Roman surely would have thought to ask for permission before watching a movie with them. He was the better of the two of them at interacting with the “mouse-men” after all.

He felt unexpectedly sad as he stood there, unnoticed, watching the scene. He was glad that Roman had earned enough trust for something like this to happen, but Logan couldn’t help but wish that it was he who got to watch a film with their guests. For a brief moment, he considered joining them, but he knew that that was a bad idea. He didn’t want to interrupt their guests’ enjoyment of it. There was no way he could walk in and join them without doing so. So, instead, he silently pulled up a kitchen chair, and sat there to watch the movie and pretend that he was a part of this.

He felt like somewhat of an outsider as he sat there, alone in the kitchen. But that was okay. Although he would have liked to feel included, he felt that it was the better choice to remain where he was. The “mouse-men” doubtless would find it harder to relax if Logan tried to truly join their movie watching. They could deal with one human being in there with them, but two would probably be too much. The last thing Logan wanted was to tarnish their guests’ opinion of him by scaring them yet again.

It wasn’t as if Logan was a big fan of cartoons or Disney to begin with. It was fine.

He stayed until the movie ended and the credits began to roll. Only then did he quietly return the kitchen chair to its usual place and walk over to the stove to start dinner.

When he was looking through the pots and pans in the cabinet, he heard a set of footsteps shuffle up behind him.

“Good evening, Roman,” he said without turning around, reaching for the pot he wanted.

He received a mumbled greeting in return. It was not exactly Roman’s usual bright demeanor and clever nickname, but understandable given he was still feeling like less than his usual, colorful self.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, straightening.

Roman hummed, like he was considering his answer. “Fabulous,” he answered finally, in a voice that didn’t quite match the word he’d chosen.

“Oh, fabulous?” Logan glanced over his shoulder at his roommate, who was in his pajamas and had a blanket around his shoulders. “That’s good to hear.”

Roman nodded. “We watched Up… twice today. The movie.”

“Twice?”

“Emile wanted to,” he explained, his mouth curving into a fond smile.

“Well, I’m glad you were able to make him happy,” Logan said, turning back around. He walked to the sink, turning the handle a little sharply. Water gushed from the tap.

Roman was silent for a second, watching as Logan poured water, then rice into the pot.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, sounding confused.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Logan said, putting the lid on the pot. “Dinner should be finished in about twenty minutes, if you want to get back to your friends.”

Roman coughed into his sleeve. “I don’t know that… we’re friends,” he said sheepishly. When Logan didn’t reply, just opening the freezer to grab a packet of vegetables, he added, “Maybe you could come join us. Em… You should’ve seen Emile. He got all starry-eyed… when he saw what movie we were watching. I bet he’ll… want to see more cartoons.”

Logan hesitated, the freezer door still open. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Well, I can ask,” Roman offered. “It can’t hurt to ask… can it?”

Yes, it absolutely could, Logan wanted to say. They could say no.

He didn’t say that, but the long silence that stretched between them seemed to convey Logan’s sentiments just as well.

“Just let me ask,” Roman said, his voice softening.

Logan didn’t answer, tapping one fingernail on the counter top.

Roman’s muffled footsteps retreated back to the other room.

…

Logan waited for the rice to finish cooking, watching the steam fog up the lid of the pot. The dishes, including the bottle caps and miniature silverware for their guests, were sitting ready at his side.

He turned off the burner and sighed through his nose.

Within a few minutes, he had each of the plates ready with the rice and veggies. He added some seasoning to all but one of them, since he wasn’t sure if Emile’s sensitive stomach would tolerate that.

As he approached the living room, he realized that another cartoon’s opening sequence was on the television now, which meant that Roman planned to continue their movie night of sorts. Logan sighed, set his own plate at the kitchen table, and took the others into the living room.

“I have dinner,” he announced softly before going in, not wanting to startle anyone. Virgil gave him a mistrustful look, and Emile shifted somewhat nervously. Patton, meanwhile, who was sitting next to Emile, smiled shyly as a sort of greeting.

Logan actually stopped walking at that, sooner than he had intended to. Had he ever seen Patton smile before? He didn’t think he had.

“Thanks, Lo,” Roman said, holding out his hands for his plate.

Logan shook his head minutely to clear it, then handed it over. He placed the dishes for the “mouse-men” on their table, and he turned to leave.

“Can you bring me some lemonade… when you come back?” Roman asked.

Logan paused. When he came back? He turned around, and Roman was smiling knowingly at him.

At first he shrugged it off, but then he realize what Roman meant. The “mouse-men” had said yes? They were willing to watch television with both humans there? They had done that before, with Patton, of course, but Emile had agreed? Virgil had agreed?

“Ah…” Logan faltered. “Yes. I can do that.”

He came back with the lemonade and his own dinner, and he carefully sat down on the couch beside Roman.

“Long day?” Roman murmured, pressing the “play” button.

The “mouse-men”, especially Emile and Virgil, sent occasional glances in his direction, but they all seemed more interested in the show and in their own food. “You could say that,” he murmured back.

“Take tomorrow off,” Roman whispered.

Logan frowned. “What? Why?”

“Because you’re not… a robot,” Roman said, lowering his voice further. “Jokes aside. Take a break. I know you’ve… been stressed, with school, and these guys, and work… and even though finals are done, that doesn’t mean you can’t… be burned out.”

Logan sighed, looking up at the screen for a moment. A pair of children were arguing in a boat, and the girl’s frustration was causing the ice around them to crack.

His gaze shifted to the table to the side, where the three “mouse-men” sat. Patton and Virgil both glanced over at his movement, although Emile’s eyes stayed glued to the screen. Virgil frowned at him, but Patton gave him a small wave.

Logan lifted up his hand just slightly as a sort of wave back.

Maybe Roman made a good point. Perhaps he had overreacted a bit to the fact that Roman had gotten to watch a movie with the “mouse-men”, and he hadn’t. It wasn’t his fault that Logan had been working at the time, or that Virgil and Emile were still wary of the humans. And they were wary of Roman, too, not just Logan.

He’d overreacted. It had been a long day, and Logan was tired, and he grew irritable when he was tired.

He should have been focusing on the progress that he had made with their tiny guests, not on how far they still had to go. Patton was speaking to him, had thanked him, had smiled at him just that day. Regardless of their lack of options, the “mouse-men” had trusted Logan and Roman to bring Emile back to them and to help him recover. They were all sitting together, right then, watching a cartoon and eating dinner.

That was progress.

Logan just had to let himself see it. And maybe that required giving himself a break.

“I’ll take tomorrow off,” he murmured.

“Good,” Roman murmured back.

They went back to watching the show. All five of them, together.

...

Bonus: Patton’s and Virgil’s drawings!

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fairiesherefairiesthere · 5 years

Note

HAY. djwkf Can I maybe request 'Shit, how'd you make me blush like this?' (bc there needs to be more flustered Laxus) or 'Right.. Well.. I'm not sure how we ended up kissing like that.. ' for Fraxus?

Hello!! Here you go, both of the phrases are in it ! Fraxus fic under the cut

Watching the seconds tick away isn't an activity that Laxus is in any way, shape or form fond of, but he finds solace in the knowledge that eventually, the time for him to be released from this hellish place will arrive. He's the youngest in the room and now that the meeting is over, the old people have found a new form of entertainment in bothering him.

Curse his grandfather for demanding him to come along. Hell, the man hadn't even decided yet who'd become the next master. Technically, there's no reason whatsoever for Laxus to be here and to be ribbed as though he's their communal annoying nephew. He isn't.

Of course, it turns to the topic of dating. Laxus suspects that these people have got nothing going for them in their respective personal lives, so they're vigorously trying to live through him. When asked if there's anyone he's interested in, he plans to firmly deny by simply grunting. His mouth betrays him however, and before he knows it, he's adding fuel to the fire.

"Dunno." Oh. Oh no. He's opened the gates towards the possibility of old people giving him horrible advice and they are jumping at the opportunity. "That's not a no", Babasaama feels the need to say, grin adorning her face and Laxus shoots his grandfather a face that essentially says "please help me". His grandfather artfully ignores it, throwing dirt on the hole that Laxus dug himself into. Betrayal sure tastes good in the morning, especially served with a side dish of unpleasantness.

"Attraction is weird", is the answer he settles on, deciding that it's both vague and definitive enough to satisfy these hawks. It doesn't, so he tries to talk himself out of it. He really should've known better, should've been more self-aware. Although he's best friends with a master of words, he himself is anything but.

"You know...", he fumbles, "Or rather you don't, well I don't. What's love like? Like, strangers never really appeal to me. People who go on dates and say it was nice are definitely liars. Love is a bit of a scam, I think."

"Love doesn't have to be new and exciting, darling boy. Most of the time, it's comfort, a stability you build together." Although the added wink isn't necessary, the point master Bob tries to bring across does make sense. "Like home in a person", he states and immediately one person pops up in his mind. When he looks at the geezers, he can see that they're picking up on it. In return, the heat in his face gets worse and he scowls at them.

"Alright, that's enough", Makarov mercifully cuts in. "I'm taking my brat home. Laxus, kiss your aunts and uncles goodbye." Rolling his eyes, Laxus manages to somewhat politely nod at all of them. "Last time I checked, none of them are related to us."

"Family is in the heart, brat."

"If I have to cram that much people into it, I'll die."

"Too late, they're already there."

They keep bickering until they have to part ways. "See ya this evening. Freed invited you for a nice family dinner or something." Makarov raises a brow. "My grandson-in-law works harder for this family than you and I do. I'll be there."

The little 'grandson-in-law' comment doesn't really hit Laxus until he's stepping over the treshold of his own home. Deciding to put that thought aside, he enters the living room. " 'M home", he mumbles and lays eyes on Freed, settled comfortably on his couch. Seeing Laxus, he smiles. "Welcome home."

After that, he resumes tugging at the strings of his guitars and sings the sweet lullaby that Evergreen is very fond of. He seems to be completely unbothered by Laxus' presence. His green hair is loose and partly draped over his shoulder, the waterfall of silken strands effortlessly establishing a picture of elegance. The seamless image of elegance is continued in the man's whole posture, loose but dignified nonetheless.

Freed as a whole, is a work of beauty that Laxus finds himself appreciating at this very moment. As he lays his head down on Freed's shoulder, he marvels at Freed's muscled frame. Usually his form tends to be hidden by layers of clothes, masking brutal strength in a nice package. Most things about Freed are like that, deceptive. His hands are unblemished, nails manicured and taken care of. Once turned around, his palms are rough and calloused.

His manner of speech is to the point, effective and refined. That refinement easily turns into harsh word that shape an even harsher reality, if he so wishes. In eyes clearer than the bluest of skies, lurks a darkness that no storm Laxus could ever muster would compare to. Handsome, socially graceful, polished in both skill and manners, friendly (if he wishes to be so), smart... Freed truly is the sort of man that many only could wish to be.

"What are you thinking so deeply about?" Freed asks, halting his musical endeavours to place Laxus head in his lap, playing with his hair. Staring up at the man, Laxus finds himself momentarily unable to answer, reddening instead. "Ah shit, look at this." He covers his eyes with his arms and Freed, not known for being merciful, laughs at him. "How'd you make me blush like this?" he asks faux-accusingly.

"It's rather easy", Freed grins and the sight of it makes Laxus' heart skip a beat and his blush gets worse. "See?" Freed points out. "I think you're just easily affected by me", he continues smugly and Laxus makes a face at him. "Am I now?" he challenges the man, already knowing he's going to lose.

"I don't know", Freed hums, dragging his pointer finger from Laxus' jawline all the way down his chest, where he rests the finger. Laxus' breath stutters and the fingers drags back up, slow and tantalising, forming a hook under his chin and tilting it upwards. As Freed demands heavy and loaded eyecontact from him, he smirks. "But I like to think you are." He bows down, breath hot and heavy against the side of Laxus' neck as he whispers : "Wouldn't you agree?" in his ear.

When Freed draws back only to give him a charming smile and demands him to kiss him, Laxus doesn't even hesitate. He wants to convey as much worship and sensual heat as humanly possible, but doesn't really know how to. Luckily for him Freed is there, taking the lead and making his life easier as always. It's not purely the mouth-on-mouth part that makes his head spin (though that definitely contributes to it), it's mostly the tiny gasps that escape them as they reconnect, trying to leave as little time between kisses as possible. It's the moments where their eyes meet and say more than words ever could, the hand Freed has on the back of his neck, steady and sure. It's his cologne, it's the feeling of his other hand travelling wherever it could reach. The feeling of his own hands on the man's hips, in his hair. It's everything and somehow more than that.

Once they've calmed a bit down, he murmurs a bit out of breath : "Right...well...I'm not sure how we ended up kissing like that." Freed, who has decided that Laxus' chest makes for a nice pillow, flops around so they lay chest on chest. "Meetings with the elderly has never been particularly arousing, but if that's what gets you going...", the bastard trails off, smirk evident in both his voice and on his face. "You're a little shit", Laxus tells him and Freed laughs at that. "And I love you", he adds. "I see that you have your priorities sorted out", Freed dryly bemuses before kissing the tip of Laxus' nose. "I love you too."

#freed justine #Laxus Dreyar #fraxus #freedxlaxus #TheFairyWrites #thank you for the ask!#fairy tail #fanfic

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ayakashiramblings · 5 years

Text

Checklist: To do You (SFW)

2465 words

Aoi’s

For some reason, Oji-san got me this notebook instead of the beef needed for the Hayashi rice. Typical. He even had the time to get my name printed in golden cursive on the front.

Well, he would, considering he had twelve ‘5-minute’ breaks. Maybe I should do one of those trackers as well. The pages are technically college-ruled so it would be easier to draw out grids although I personally wanted the weight to be 300gsm and blank for watercolour paintings. I could technically get away with a mandella and colour it in each time Oji-san skips work.

… Wait, that should not have been included in the first entry of this diary. That’s it, I’m going to change it to a book of checklists. And I might as well use it since it is a gift.

Aoi’s Checklists

I actually do need to create one for something with Y/N today. There are several scenarios that I have highlighted in the new pens I bought.

Why is each word getting from bad to worse? This is why I stick to brushes.

Step #1: Rename notebook to make sure no one reads it Logic: Ideally, I would like to have one of those hexes the Onmyoji seem to be able to cast but I am not approaching Y/N without a solid reason. So, I’m settling for writing on the front. Someone with 100 eyes better be able to see it. Outcome: DO NOT READ Aoi’s Checklists

Step #2: Be more presentable Logic: This date requires at least some modicum of etiquette… and I guess that includes even the writing. The word ‘Please’ is the first word appearing in this book called ‘The Lovers’ Guide’. Apparently was written in the age of Samurais and Ninjas. Might as well use it. Outcome: (Please) DO NOT READ Aoi’s Checklist

I am satisfied so I did more concrete planning.

Step #3: Smile Logic: … I was told by her that my smile makes people swoon. She better not have been faking it or else. Outcome: A customer had asked me if I was ok. Offered to massage my face. I think me cringing should have been clear enough to show that my face was/is not stuck.

Step #4: Open the door when you sense her Logic: Near closing time is when she will arrive. Usually, I can track her with my Satori powers, especially since I love… not having to worry about her falling. Why does she always insist on walking by herself? I hope she is alright. Outcome: Oji was cajoling too many girls and the presence of disgust in their hearts was too overwhelming. I think I had lost my power temporarily at that moment. Or more accurately, I am NOT doing that again. She wasn’t there anyway.

Step #5: Say Hello Logic: She has had a long day. I admire how hard she works and the least I can do is acknowledge her coming to Raccord. Outcome: When she finally came in, I had asked her if she wanted to try the strawberry milk and shortcake because of the pink colour. Might have gotten distracted by her cheeks. Who asked her to come in running so prettily, huh?

Step #6: Check appearance after evaluating hers to see if my attire was correct Logic: You know she is going to be pretty, make an effort for her! Outcome: The prettiness level was too much. She had actually bunned up all of her hair and it was so cute. So I washed my hands and patted my still-damp hands to properly serve her pink milk. Oji-san managed to distract Y/N thankfully while I was trying to compose myself. Not that I was nervous. I took the dishcloth off my shoulder to wipe my face and neck dry, only putting it back on my shoulder because I would look cooler.

It was then I noticed Koga next to her. Insecurity was flooding in. So was the water from the dishcloth so I had no choice but to keep it on.

But I had promised both of us. I could do this. We had both agreed to have a taste-testing session here and we would. Will. Besides, at least now I know she was safe.

Step #7: Talk about the weather Logic: The weather is the perfect fall-back topic for any pair. Seventy-eight percent of people fall in love while talking about whether or not it stopped raining. Plus, it would be great to say that the weather is great for the fruit-picking date. Outcome: I am now part of the twenty-two percent because I talked about Kuya sleeping in the rain even with lightning around him instead of how ‘the rain makes her shine brighter’. Luckily, Koga laughed and confirmed my suspicions. Unluckily, Koga has a great laugh that Y/N highlighted. Just for that, I am switching the palette to something warmer.

Step #8: Laugh at her jokes. Even the ones you wonder were written by Ginnojo. Logic: Y/N likes to use a joke to break tensions and usually has an interesting story about selling her father’s imports. Just in case, prepare for something bad. Outcome: She made one across the room because apparently along the way, she was already in the middle of telling the Tale of the Peach kimono and debating with Koga as the proposition.

I tried laughing across the room but it looked like I was laughing at the strawberries. I’m just glad I can take ten minutes to write this while chopping them with the other hand. Ignore the splatters.

Step #9: Make the plate look pretty Logic: We had agreed to work on my culinary skills together and taste-test them. Looks is one of the factors she told me she would consider while judging so I tried to make it suitable for her. Outcome: I nearly splattered lead into the milk because I had crushed a pencil. Coincidentally, the one I was using to write this. Even more, coincidentally, Koga had touched her hair, making it bob up and down like some yarn ball of Nachi’s.

I can’t even serve her milk. I’m going to stop this now.

Step #10: Denial Logic: Pretend that nobody is watching as you write the message about the fruit-picking date in strawberry icing. That way, she can react to it in private. Outcome: Koga was about to see it so she smeared it across the plate. Yay. Of all things to forget to consider was ignoring the audience BUT not forgetting them.

Step #11: Anger Logic: I cannot be completely calm or else she will worry. Outcome: Might have written the kanji for a certain word on Kuya’s omelette that Oji did. Honestly, the certain word was meant for a certain ogre so I hope Kuya understands when Koga collects the takeaway.

Step #12: Bargaining Logic: Might as well show off that I can do business with my excellent shopping skills Outcome: She shared the shortcake with Koga after challenging him to eat the dessert without alcohol. He won. Now, stop smiling at her so I can give you some sake or something Oji hides and thinks that I don’t know about.

Step #13: Depression Logic: Girls appreciate sensitive guys right? Right? I’ll just talk about not getting enough fruits and maybe bring up a fruit-picking date. Outcome: I think I made it seem like Step #11. She talked about how tart and sweet the strawberries were. I said she had the same comment about the mango-lavender cobbler.

I know, I know. Why did I say that? It’s just that she was moaning after each bite. I pretty much died during those times and was miraculously brought back to life…

… Wait, Koga also heard them, ugh...

That said, he and Oji-san had somehow saved me… or not. I mean, Koga didn’t have to say that food was the way to a woman’s stomach for crying out loud. And Oji, what was he thinking about greeting the customers? ‘Not often we get people in here’... oh god, we’re going to be out on the streets in a few days at this rate.

Step #14: Acceptance Logic: What was I thinking? Why would she want a date with me? I mean, yeah we’re boyfriend and girlfriend but we haven’t even kissed. I think I went past a time limit. Is there a time limit? I don’t know. I bet Koga would know of a time limit, he has a way with people, including ladies…

He even fed her at one point, mimicking one of her lady friends apparently and talking about how cute it is. I can’t even do that openly.

Why can’t I just laugh and be happy without worrying like him? He doesn’t hesitate to take. I mean, I get that he won’t do anything, he’s kind but that also means that Y/N deserves to be with someone like him… not me.

I am not him.

Outcome: I braced myself… just in front of the other customers. Somehow, I can write down orders and in this checklist… journal… whatever.

Step #15: Distract Yourself Logic: Enjoy the fact that you don’t have to hunt for another job for the tuition fees. Enjoy not seeing her whispering into Koga’s ear and… winking at him. Outcome: … The crowd is somehow parting. Oji-san even seems to be ushering them out. What is going on? Is he actually ill? Better get some medicine.

Step #16: Really distract yourself Logic: Save the Milk Hall from Oji’s madness that Koga seems to be helping along. Outcome: I slipped on some errant mango peel while hurrying up the orders for the few remaining customers. It was not even a banana, it had to be a mango. Got caught by Koga in a dip. Great, he even knows how to dance.

Y/N luckily didn’t see me. Needed to go to the powder room according to Koga. It’s a good thing I cleaned it. Hope she likes the new soap I brought in. It’s the only thing I know about her, apparently.

Maybe she actually left, I can’t blame her. All I did was ask her to technically do work to improve the cafe, insult her opinion, and don’t even ask her because I think she is better with Koga. I feel like some villain, maybe on Akiyasu levels and then Koga will come in to slice him open with a sword...

Step #17: Get surprised when she approaches you if she ever does Logic: Actually surprises are the worst, it’s like your heart is stuck in your throat and it’s just… yuck. Outcome: The only time I was happy to be surprised. Y/N was suddenly in a pretty dress. I mean, not that her normal kimono isn’t pretty. It’s just this one was a bit fancier and she even had a nice hairpin.

Step #18: Don’t just stand there like an idiot when she offers help. Logic: You. Are. Working. Outcome: She is somehow serving the last few dishes that I have prepared and also entertaining the dwindling number of guests. Honestly, I wanted to stop her but not in front of everyone else. Plus… she was… maybe cute while being so hard-working. I think we had spent the entire duration of the shift sending each other glances from the tables or behind the counter.

And every time we passed by each other, she smiled. I hope I did too although I have a feeling I had the most confused expression on my face.

Edit: Koga said it was true. Darn.

A few small-chats with her father’s friends before Oji brings them all out.

I swore he winked at us. All of his 100 eyes. I have got to ask him if that was possible.

Step #19: Thank the right people Logic: Koga kicked us out with a picnic basket he had been hiding because Y/N needed it for her ‘plan’ apparently. He really is a good friend. I’m glad. Outcome: MY HAIR IS STILL RUINED FROM ALL THAT RUFFLING. AND HOW DARE HE SAYS I GIGGLE LIKE A CUTE SCHOOL GIRL.

It’s clearly Y/N who is cute.

Step #20: Follow her blindly and willingly Logic: Oh, kiss this paper’s ass, I’m done for this part. Outcome: We are having a date. In a carriage. Horses. Y/N refuses to tell me how much it is. So I told her… some things.

I am not writing them all down. Not because I find them mortifying or anything. I guess to be fair I managed not to make eye-contact with her for the most part.

Well, except for one part;

“I… wanted to have the perfect evening. You know, sharing a dessert, asking you out, go fruit-picking and maybe… ok no, that doesn’t matter because I kept thinking Koga is better…”

And she actually kept chasing my eye-line throughout the whole monologue before I gave up and somehow managed to look into her… angry eyes?

Now I have to ask Oji if it is possible to have flames in the eyes. Or if it is just an Onmyoji thing.

“Ok, you better listen to me well and clear. I’ve only looked at you. And I have seen you care with everything you’ve got.”

She… knew.

“You’d always show that and I’d always be thanking every day for being with you even if if it’s on a street and we’re playing with a cat that is not Nachi but you keep insisting it is just so that you have some excuse to be naturally kind.”

She… was ok.

“You could be lecturing Oji and I’d know it’s how you love him. Nobody else matters except for those who love you.”

She… loved me.

“And I haven’t met a single person who doesn’t. I’ve just never known anyone who understands how much I wanted to do this.”

… She kissed me…

And maybe that was what made my powers work again. Because it was like every sensation was embracing me with encouragement to drown in her.

Like her butterflies. Like heartache and painful misunderstandings. Getting everything we could have ever wanted, and revelling in each emotion exposed. Labour that was exhilarating.

… We loved.

The next date night though? Peach picking. I really want her to win the next bet.

… … …

Good job, Aoi. Took ya long enough. I had to wait a whole day to get you to finish this entry. And you’re welcome. You may thank me by not giving me any peach. - Koga Kitamikado

I’m so proud of you. And now you’re in a good mood, I can go to Kuya for more cigarettes. - Oji

…

I love you.

- Yours Truly

#ayakashi romance reborn #ayakashi rr #arr #Ayakashi: Romance Reborn #ayakashi aoi #ayakashi koga #koga kitamikado #arr aoi #voltage inc #voltage fanfic

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vexedtonightmares · 5 years

Text

last dance (elu ballet au) chapter dix

Lucas is in his final year at the Paris Opera Ballet School and he’ll be damned if he lets his former friend-turned-rival Eliott steal the lead role in their production of Swan Lake.

aka- lucas and eliott are rivals who are forced to room together for their final year of ballet school before they try to enter the company. we can all see where this is going.

i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix. x.

ao3

**tw: eating disorders/ idealization of disordered eating**

Jeudi 15:33

Imane and Lucas were taking a break while the director ran through a few things with Manon and Eliott that they, the understudies, didn’t need to be a part of. She was studying him carefully as they stretched side by side, and he pretended not to notice. He had no idea why she was watching him as such, but it couldn’t mean anything good.

Eliott looked so beautiful as he danced, Lucas could hardly keep his eyes off him. Technically, he was supposed to avoid looking at Eliott at all costs, but watching him practice had to be an exception. He didn’t get as hot and bothered when he was focusing on how Eliott was dancing, so that’s what he did.

Lucas had always envied Eliott’s turn out, even when they were kids. His turn out rivaled even Manon’s, and hers was so spectacular that she could nearly rotate her entire leg so her calf faced upward when she held her leg up in a la seconde. Lucas had worked for years on his turn out and, while it was pretty good, he’d never be anywhere near where Eliott was naturally. He allowed himself to be annoyed by it now, only because he knew he could get extra kisses from his annoyance later.

He watched the veins of Eliott’s arms as he extended them out to Manon before lifting her and continuing with their choreography. They were pronounced enough that they flexed through his skin slightly with each movement, drawing Lucas’ gaze up and down his arms. So much for not getting hot and bothered by watching Eliott dance.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but what the hell is going on with you?” Imane asked in a low hiss.

Lucas dragged his gaze away sharply, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as he assumed they were. “What are you talking about?”

She sighed like he was the biggest idiot in the world. “First you go off on Eliott at that party, then you disappear for days, then Manon says you’re acting all optimistic and sappy, both of which are so not you—”

He opened his mouth to argue but she held a hand up, silencing him before he could even get a word in.

“—Yann says you haven’t talked to him at all since the party, you’re not spending all your time in the studio for extra practice, you look like you’ve actually been sleeping, and you keep glaring at Manon and Eliott like they ran over your puppy or something. I know you hate Eliott, we all know, but come on. Weren’t things getting better between you two recently?” she finished with an exasperated breath.

Well, at least his lovesick staring was interpreted as glaring. He’d been so sure Imane had been onto his and Eliott’s relationship. She was pretty smart, after all, and not as oblivious as he wished she would be sometimes. Maybe he was better at hiding his love than he thought he was, which was another cause for celebration.

He mulled over what to say in his head, knowing that no matter what Imane probably wouldn’t be satisfied. “I’ve been really behind on our online classwork, hence why I was MIA all weekend. Also I was sick, just a small bug I guess, because I’m better now. As for yelling at Eliott at the party… I don’t know what to say, he deserved it. Yes, I was a little bit drunk, but he’s an asshole, so…”

“Lucas please, we’ve talked about this,” Imane groaned.

He glared at her. “You were the one who asked, if you didn’t want me to profess my hatred for Eliott, you should have let it be.” It was thrilling, in a small way, to talk about Eliott as if he wasn’t head over heels for him. Part of him felt a little bad he was keeping up this ruse, but they’d both decided it would be easier to hide their relationship if everyone thought they still hated each other. Or, that Lucas still hated Eliott, because apparently it had never quite gone both ways. “Things will never get better between us, I’m just riding the rest of the year out and hoping to end up in a company that he’s not in.”

That was a lie, a bit fat lie. All he’d been thinking about recently was him and Eliott joining a company together, falling a little more in love every day and supporting each other through it all. What a dream it would be to live together outside of the school, going on dates or just staying in bed all day on their days off without anyone interrupting them.

Imane didn’t look entirely convinced, but she let it go. “I’m just worried about you, Lucas.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?” he asked with a small smirk.

“Shut up.” She nudged him with her foot, rolling her eyes. “I’m allowed to be worried about you.”

“Because you love me and you care about me?” he prompted, fluttering his eyelashes.

“I’m not even dignifying that with a response.”

He leaned closer to her grinning widely and posing with his hands under his chin. “Because I’m your best bud?”

She scoffed. “We are not best buds.”

“We so are.”

“The gay guy and the muslim. Best. Buds.”

“Not a chance,” she said with a small smile. Lucas met her eyes and the two of them laughed together, hiding their mouths with their hands so as to not draw attention and get kicked out of class. She sighed once their laughter had subsided. “Ok, fine. We’re buds.”

“Best buds?”

“Don’t push your luck dingbat.”

Lucas laughed so hard that he had to pretend he was having a coughing attack, Eliott catching his eye halfway through, biting his lip to keep from laughing as well. Lucas rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, fond smile working its way over his face. Forcing himself to focus back on Imane, he coughed one last time. “Dingbat is a new one.”

She wiggled her eyebrows mischievously. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” he agreed. The director called them back up to participate a moment later, and not a moment too soon because Lucas was mere seconds away from either bursting into another fit of laughter or staring Eliott down despite the promises he made to himself.

Eliott was probably going to be the death of him, but he found that he didn’t mind going out this way. He’d die a thousand times for Eliott’s smile.

Samedi 18:21

Lucas and Eliott had been in the studio all day working on Polaris. Since Eliott had asked him to compose, Lucas had been anxious to begin, even if he still had some doubts about his composition skills. So far he’d played a variety of melodies until Eliott heard something he liked, then built off that. He had no idea if this was how composition was supposed to work, but Eliott’s excitement was contagious.

“Not to be gay, but if you don’t come over here and kiss me in the next two seconds I might explode,” Lucas said from the piano bench, watching Eliott go over various phrases he’d created, trying to match and adapt them to the meoldy Lucas had been working on.

Eliott paused and raised his eyebrows, but came closer until he was standing above where Lucas was sitting down. He leaned down, whispering softly to Lucas before bringing their lips together. “Why would you say ‘not to be gay’ and then do just that?”

Lucas broke away from the kiss, pouting. “I can’t help being gay around you.”

“Can you ever?”

“Yes. I could totally pretend I was straight if I wanted to, you’re just lucky I don’t want to.”

Eliott hummed, leaning back in. “Lucky indeed.”

Lucas opened his mouth to invite Eliott in further, leaning back unconsciously until he was lying down on the piano bench, Eliott hovering over him, still locked in a passionate embrace. Lucas pulled him closer still, never getting enough of Eliott. He didn’t think he ever would, he’d always crave everything that Eliott was, a hunger never satisfied.

Thinking about hunger, he realized that the two of them had been working so long they’d completely forgotten to eat. A part of Lucas was satisfied, glad that Eliott wasn’t watching over him like a fragile piece of glass that might break under pressure anymore, and another part felt guilty. He shoved that part down, choosing instead to focus back in on the taste of Eliott, the way his hands moved from Lucas’ hair to his face, to his ribcage, to—

A loud thud sounded as Eliott’s hand slipped off the edge of the narrow piano bench and he tumbled to the ground, nearly taking Lucas with him. Lucas sat up, looking stunned down at him on the ground. Eliott gazed back up at him for a second before Lucas burst into laughter. Eliott frowned up at him.

“Really?” he demanded, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Lucas laid back down on the bench, this time on his stomach so he could look down at Eliott. He was still laughing, body bouncing up and down with each inhale and exhale. Eliott reached up with one hand and Lucas laced their fingers together, closing his eyes to the simple bliss of holding hands with the boy he loved until he felt Eliott pulling him and he slid off the bench, onto Eliott.

“Really?” he mimicked, but now Eliott was laughing too. “Why is that your go to move?” he asked, giggling and pressing his head into Eliott’s chest. He shifted so he was straddling Eliott, lifting his head and fixing Eliott with a desire filled gaze. Eliott’s laughs subsided and his eyes softened, neck stretching up as Lucas bent back down, meeting each other halfway.

There was nothing in the world Lucas wouldn’t do with Eliott, and he intended to start now. Just as Eliott placed his hands underneath Lucas’ shirt, fingers tracing the lines of his ribcage lightly, the door to the studio rattled. It must have been the director coming to do studio checks.

Lucas scrambled off Eliott, both of them standing up and gathering up their things. They could hear a voice on the other side of the door and they panicked. Their allotted studio time was supposed to have ended a few hours ago, and they’d be in trouble if anyone found them in there past when the studio had been booked.

Eliott nodded to the only other door in the room, the door to the closet that held the studio cleaning supplies, weights, thera bands, and anything else anyone might need for practice. Lucas didn’t spare a moment, grabbing Eliott’s outstretched hand and letting himself be led into the small enclosed space. They’d barely closed the door behind them when the director walked in.

Only… it wasn’t the director. It was Manon and Daphné. Lucas squinted through the slatted gaps in the door, allowing them to see out— barely so— but not allowing anyone to see in. Lucas groaned internally, they’d be stuck there all night. Daphné and Manon had both been freaking out about getting extra practice time earlier in the week, so of course they’d had to choose the one studio Eliott and Lucas had been using.

Eliott tapped his fingers on Lucas’ wrist, looking at him questioningly. Lucas sighed dramatically as he could without making a sound and nodded to Eliott’s phone, pulling his own out.

Lucas: We’re going to be stuck in here a while

Eliott: i don’t mind ;)))

Lucas: :)

Eliott: just a smiley ? :((

Lucas: Ha, sorry

Eliott: u good lu?

Lucas snapped his head up, catching the way Eliott’s eyes were illuminated by the light of his phone. It wasn’t the first time Eliott had called him Lu, but it was the first time since they’d gotten over themselves and gotten together for real. It struck a chord in his heart, making heat rise to his cheeks, almost making him forget the fact they were stuck in a dark, small closet.

Eliott frowned, raising his eyebrows and nodding down to his phone. There was so much earnest in the way Eliott looked at him, and it was exactly what Lucas needed at that moment.

Lucas: Yeah

Lucas: Just a little uncomfortable is all

Eliott: oh? i can try to move a bit

Lucas: No, no, that’s not why

Eliott: are u claustrophobic ??

Lucas: No

Eliott met Lucas’ gaze again, question in his eyes. Lucas didn’t want to say it out loud, or over text, because Eliott would probably laugh, and then Manon and Daphné would find them and they’d have a lot of questions to answer. Also, who was scared of the dark at his age?

Eliott: lu…

Lucas: It’s nothing, let’s just see how much longer man and daph are going to be

Eliott: bs

Eliott: u don’t have to tell me, i guess, but i don’t want u to be uncomfortable :(

Lucas: Please, Eli

Grudgingly, Eliott put away his phone, leaning his head back against the side of the closet. Their legs were somewhat entangled, knees pulled up, and Lucas tried to focus on that instead of the overwhelming darkness. His phone timed out and turned off, causing him to stiffen involuntarily, turning it back on in a hurry. Eliott caught the movement eyes going wide as he brought his phone back out.

Eliott: you’re still afraid of the dark

Lucas: No I’m not

Eliott: yes u are

Lucas: Please don’t laugh

Eliott: why would i laugh?

Lucas: Because you always used to laugh about it

Eliott: i’m very mature now, i’ll have u know

Lucas: You pulled me into a fountain

Eliott: only after you pushed me!

Lucas: Yes, but I never claimed to be mature

Eliott: … fair

Lucas snickered quietly, earning him a light kick from Eliott. He bit his lip, shrugging and pretending he had no idea why Eliott was glaring at him.

Eliott: ok so u can laugh at me then?

Lucas: Yes, it’s outlined in the rules of our relationship

Eliott: before or after ‘lucas gets no kisses if he laughs at eliott’

Lucas: *gasp* You wouldn’t.

Eliott: …

Lucas: Ok, fine, I take back my laughter

Eliott: :)))

Lucas: Idiot

Lucas: Why do I love you again?

Eliott: you love me?

Shit, had he really just texted that? He’d wanted the first time he said it to be, preferably, not over text while hiding in a supply closet. Literally anywhere else. Eliott wouldn’t meet his eyes, watching his phone like it held the answers to the secrets of the universe.

“Yes,” Lucas whispered, voice low enough that the music from outside covered it, “I love you, Eliott.”

His brain didn’t tell him too fast too fast too fast, it didn’t tell him that Eliott didn’t actually love him back, despite saying so, it didn’t tell him that he was all alone. Instead it was bursting with love and light, thinking about them, their future, the ways Eliott’s eyes told him that he would always have a home with him, the way a brushing of their hands communicated so much more than a faint touch. It didn’t scare him anymore, and he figured if he could find someone to help him get over his fear of being unloved and abandoned, he could get over his fear of the dark with the same person.

Eliott: i love you too

Eliott: but you already knew that

Lucas: Eh, doesn’t hurt to hear it a few more times

Eliott: good, because i plan on telling you every single day for the rest of our lives

Lucas: Promise?

Eliott: promise.

Lucas couldn’t help himself, didn’t care if Manon and Daphné heard them, he dropped his phone in his lap and leaned forward grabbing the back of Eliott’s neck and pulling them together. He could feel Eliott smiling against his mouth, and he was pretty sure he was doing the same. Eliott’s hands found their preferred resting spot on both sides of his face and Lucas melted into the touch, wondering once again how he’d gone without it for so long.

The music shut off and Lucas became aware of his breath, of Eliott’s breath, of the sudden silence that engulfed the room. The two of them froze, pulling apart and peering out the gaps in the door to the best of their ability.

Daphné was walking to the door and Manon was looking at her as she went, laughing at something Daphné must have just said. There was a moment, a blink and you’ll miss it moment, and suddenly everything became glaringly obvious. He anticipated it barely a second before it happened, only because he knew Manon nearly as well as he knew himself. How could he have not seen it before?

“Daph, I have to tell you something,” Manon’s voice rang out through the studio, reaching out for Daphné’s hand. Daphné looked at Manon’s hand on hers, then wrinkled her brows in confusion.

“Yes?”

Manon shut her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek. Lucas could practically sense every feeling she was feeling, the fear and the doubt and the urge, nonetheless, to air all her feelings in the open. “I… I think that I—” she cut off, taking a deep breath.

Daphné gripped Manon’s hand harder and Manon’s eyes shot open. “I think I’m in love with you Daphné.”

Daphné blinked in surprise but she didn’t pull away. Eliott reached out to tap Lucas a few times disbelievingly, accidentally smacking his face as they watched Manon look at the ground, Daphné pulling Manon closer a bit before she took a few steps herself, closer and closer until their lips touched.

Lucas slapped Eliott back letting him know, yes, they were seeing the same thing. He was happy for them, it was hard for him not to be, especially given the conversation he had with her earlier in the week. He felt bad for not realizing it earlier, but he supposed they’d both been a little bit too wrapped up in other people that they hadn’t seen what was right in front of them.

Manon and Daphné were still kissing, which was all well and good, but Lucas really wanted to leave the closet sometime soon. The literal closet, not the figurative one. He wondered if Manon would tell him about Daphné, but then figured it would be a bit hypocritical for him to be mad if she didn’t, given his own secret relationship.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to them, but probably only an instant to Manon and Daphné, they left hand in hand. He hoped Imane was already asleep, he didn’t know if she would be too pleased with her roommates hooking up in the suite they all shared. Not everyone was as lucky as Lucas was with Eliott.

As soon as he was absolutely certain they were gone, Lucas pushed open the doors, wasting no time tumbling out. Eliott followed him, closing the closet door gently behind him before turning to Lucas with wide eyes. “Manon and Daphné! I never saw that one coming, Charles and Manon always had that sexual tension or whatever…”

“I know,” Lucas said in disbelief. In all honesty, he was glad it wasn’t Charles. He hadn’t treated Manon the best, but always framed their disputes in a way that Manon blamed herself, at least from what Manon had told him over the summer, so he was happy she’d fallen for someone who saw her worth. At least he hoped so, if Daphné didn’t… he knew where to hide her body.

“Like you and Lucille, right?” Lucas added with a smirk. He didn’t really know or care much about Eliott and Lucille’s brief relationship, but Eliott had all but told him he’d never really loved Lucille in the way he loved him, so he wasn’t too worried about it.

Eliott laughed at the insinuation, ruffling his hair with one hand. “Appearances aren’t all they seem to be, noted.”

“You didn’t know that already?” Lucas teased. “Everyone still thinks I hate you.”

“Yeah, about that, you could take it a bit easier on me now, right?” Eliott grinned, holding out both of his hands so Lucas could fold them into his.

Lucas scoffed, faking a loud laugh. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“You’re right,” Eliott conceded, “The only thing that keeps me away from you in class is knowing that everyone thinks we hate each other.”

“That’s all?” Lucas pulled Eliott closer to him stretching their arms out to the side. His face was level with Eliott’s chest, so he looked up at Eliott, glint in his eyes. He loved their height difference, he really did.

“Mmmm.” Eliott leaned his head down, brushing their noses together before scrunching his nose up against Lucas’ intentionally. Lucas repeated the action and the two of them dissolved into giggles, Lucas pulling away long enough to make sure they had everything they’d brought to the studio with them before planting a quick peck on Eliott’s lips and pulling him after him into the hallway. It seemed that this was how most of their nights in the studio ended, and Lucas wouldn’t change a thing.

Lundi 17:03

That had been the worst day of practices Lucas had in a long time. Not because he, or anyone else, did anything wrong, but he could tell that the pressure was getting to them all, instructors included. The show was approaching rapidly, even though it still seemed so far away. Eliott was back in the director’s good graces, which was good because rehearsals probably would have entered an entirely new level of hell if he hadn’t been. Lucas couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if Manon somehow fell from grace.

Lucas had stayed behind after class to walk back to the suites with Manon, wondering if she would say anything about the weekend’s events. It was fine if she didn’t, but Lucas hoped she would. Maybe he would confide about Eliott too, without saying his name.

“Well that was something,” she said, and he nodded in agreement.

“It’s do or die time, if things don’t start looking perfect it’s the guillotine for all of us,” he said.

Manon smacked his shoulder, but he heard a small laugh. “So dramatic.”

“I know, how did I not know I was gay until I kissed Chloé?” he professed, spreading his arms wide in faux disbelief.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head, “Why do I love you again?”

The words punched him in the gut, a brief reminder of all that had transpired between him and Eliott, stuck in that tiny closet. She didn’t know about any of that, though, so he smiled wider than the conversation probably prompted, and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Because we match.”

If he wasn’t gay, Manon would definitely be his soulmate, and he hers. Because they did match, in so many ways. She was one of the only people that knew everything, the good, the bad, the ugly, and stayed anyway. He did the same for her, knew everything about why she was living in a flatshare over the holidays instead of with her parents just like he was. So many times neither of them had to say a word, knowing exactly what the other needed, and it felt so good to have someone like that in his life after going so long without it. Eliott had become a new source of that same kind of comfort, and Lucas hoped Daphné would be able to do the same for Manon.

“I have to tell you something,” Manon said quietly, and Lucas knew what she was going to say. He pulled her closer to him, looking at her earnestly. She continued, “This weekend, I took your advice, and I—”

“Lulu! Finally!” Arthur interrupted the two of them, poking his head out the door to his suite as they walked past. Lucas glowered at him in a way that said not now, but Arthur continued to grin at the two of them.

Manon, surprisingly, slipped out of his grip, grinning widely. He grabbed her hand before she could walk away. “Hey, Manon, wait a second—”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to you later, I promise!” she shook her head, and Lucas narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Why was she acting so happy all of a sudden? He could tell it wasn’t a ruse, because he could tell when she was being genuine and when she wasn’t.

“Ok…”

“Bye Lucas, Arthur. I have to get back to my suite anyway, Imane’s making dinner,” she said, waving over her shoulder as she walked a few doors down. Lucas watched her in confusion before turning back to Arthur. That was odd, to say the least.

“What? We were kind of in the middle of something,” he said angrily.

Arthur sighed, raising his hands in surrender. “Sheesh, sorry, this is just basically the first time I’ve seen you in like a week. Forget about your future husband so fast?”

It took Lucas a moment to remember what he was talking about, and then he blushed fondly at the memory. Sure, that conversation seemed almost ridiculous now, given the state of his relationship with Eliott, but it was nice to know Arthur had been genuine, drunk as he was. “No, no, of course not. Just busy,” Lucas said.

“Right…” Arthur said, but didn’t question him further, which Lucas was grateful about. He shook his hair out of the way of his glasses, leaning against the doorframe. “Anyway, want to have a guys night? Sof said he was going to force Eliott to go out to eat with him and Idriss, so we figured you should take advantage of a night without your nemesis and his friends.”

“Eliott’s not my nemesis,” Lucas said, rolling his eyes.

“Right, sure, archenemy then, I don’t care what you call it,” Arthur backtracked, “What do you say?”

What else could he say? If Eliott was gone there was no excuse to say no. “That sounds great.”

Arthur whooped and let Lucas into their suite, where Yann was already sitting on the couch setting up a video game. Lucas was a disaster when it came to video games, but he figured he might enjoy a night with his best friends, doing something completely mind numbing. If anything, it might tear his thoughts away from that day’s disastrous rehearsals.

Lucas sat beside Yann, giving him a fist bump. Arthur called to them from the kitchen area. “Yann and I are putting a pizza in, do you have a preference between cheese and pepperoni?”

Lucas shook his head. “I’m not very hungry, plus I have leftovers that’ll go bad if I don’t eat them when I get back tonight.”

“You sure?” Arthur asked, choosing a pizza and setting the oven to the proper temperature. Was he sure? Rehearsals that day had frazzled him, making him remember why he’d all but stopped eating in the first place. He couldn’t be at the top of his game if he was eating pizza and playing video games all night, so he’d just have to choose one to make himself feel better. There were no leftovers in the fridge back in his suite, but the lie came so naturally to him. He didn’t have a problem, he didn’t. If he did, he wouldn’t have eaten the pancakes Eliott had made him the night before for dinner. Granted, he’d almost thrown them up but that had more to do with Eliott’s horrible cooking skills than anything else.

“I’m sure,” he said, ignoring the voice in his head that told him it was the wrong thing to say.

Mardi 13:30

“You’re not eating?” Imane asked as he came to sit down beside her. He shook his head, fumbling for an excuse and finding one easier than he probably should have.

“I’m too nervous, I’d probably throw it all up,” he said. It was partly true. He was a bit nervous for the rest of practice that day, but he hoped it would be better than the day before. Plus, his muscles always looked more defined when he didn’t eat before practice, so none of the instructors could accuse him of slacking if he looked like he was at the top of his game.

Imane nodded like she understood, which made his stomach roll in guilt. Just his luck, he’d end up throwing up anyway. “I feel that. What is it about this week? I swear no one was this on edge last week…”

Emma sat down at the same table as them, slamming her food down with a loud bang. Imane and Lucas both looked up at her in surprise, then at each other. They were both friends with her, but she usually didn’t join them when they were hanging out. Actually, Lucas usually didn’t join Imane for lunch either, but he knew Eliott would notice if he wasn’t eating, so he told Eliott to go get lunch with Alexia since they hadn’t seen her in a while. In some ways, they also had her to thank for them finally getting together, she’d invited them to that fateful party after all.

“Hey, Em,” Lucas said slowly.

She took a bite of her sandwich, looking at him like she’d just noticed he was there. “Hey?”

“Did you need something?” Imane asked, always direct and to the point.

Emma widened her eyes, finishing chewing before she spoke up. “Oh, shit, did I interrupt something? Were you gossiping?”

“What? No,” Lucas laughed, “You just came and sat down without saying anything. Not that we aren’t pleased to have you with us…”

“Oh, I just wanted to escape Manon and Daphné,” Emma said simply. Lucas’ gaze flickered to Imane again, but she just looked confused. He didn’t know whether this meant they’d told Emma about the two of them, but not Imane, or if they were all still in the dark.

“Why?” Imane asked.

Emma shrugged. “They’re both acting super weird. I think they must have gotten into a fight or something, because it seems like they’re both walking on eggshells around each other. I told them to go out to lunch without me and sort out their differences.”

Lucas was pretty sure they’d been “acting weird” to get rid of Emma and go on a pseudo date, but he wasn’t supposed to know that, so he said nothing.

“Oh, so we’re second choice?” Imane teased, and Emma snorted throwing one of her chips at Imane.

“It was either you guys or Ingrid…” she trailed off, and the three of them shuddered more dramatically than probably necessary. Everyone else dealt with Ingrid, but she’d personally been a total asshole to the three of them more times than they could count, so they didn’t even pretend to have patience for her anymore.

“I would have chosen Ingrid,” Lucas said, trying his damndest to keep a straight face. “I’ve missed her homophobic jokes.”

This time Lucas got a chip thrown at him, but he smiled, unable to maintain a serious expression. Lucas was glad that, despite the fact Yann was his best friend, he and Emma had also been able to maintain a nice friendship. It was nothing special, they would never be close in the way he was with Manon or the boys, but she always had his back, no questions asked, so he always had hers in return.

The rest of the lunch hour flew by, and Lucas found that he was quite glad Emma had joined them. She took his mind off the things he should or shouldn’t have been worrying about, depending on who you asked. It also made him realize how much he’d missed in his little bubble with Eliott, because Emma always had all the gossip.

Apparently, she and Alex had kind of been seeing each other since the party. She claimed it was just for sex, but he hadn’t seen her talk about anyone like this since Yann. Arthur, also, had supposedly hooked up with someone but refused to say who it was, even to Yann and Sofiane, who’d been pestering him about it. He was usually ready to spill about all of his adventures at the drop of a hat, so this was odd indeed. Basile had confessed his love for Daphné, the likes of which she had gracefully declined, but he didn’t seem to beaten up about it from what Emma knew from Yann.

It was hard to take in all the information, but it was good to reenter the real world every now and then. After all, this meant that, since he was caught up on all the happenings of the students, he could disappear with Eliott again for a while and not worry about what he was missing.

Jeudi 19:19

Lucas couldn’t quite believe what he was doing, but he couldn’t let Eliott know the truth of it. Eliott was in the shower, which usually only took about twenty minutes, give or take, so he had limited time.

Take out an egg, crack it into the sink, wash it down the drain, leave the shell in the sink so it looked like he’d just forgotten to put it down the disposal, put a pan on the stove, melt butter over the surface, let it sit, wash it out, place it on the drying rack next to a plate and a fork he ran under the sink to give the guise of use, and wipe off the counter as if he’d spilled or gotten crumbs on it.

It was just a one time thing, of course it was. There was just such a need for perfection that week, and none of the pressure from Monday had subsided, so Lucas figured it didn’t hurt to fall back into old habits until everything was back to normal. It wasn’t a problem, not if he controlled it.

The door opened just as Lucas was finishing up, and he forced a smile on his face. “Good shower?”

“It would have been better with you,” Eliott confessed, standing in the doorway to the bathroom with just a towel around his waist.

Lucas raised his eyebrows. “I don’t remember receiving an invitation.”

“Well, just know that it goes without saying from here on out,” Eliott said, and had the audacity to wink. Lucas nearly dropped the towel he was holding. Eliott smirked, knowing the effect he had on Lucas. “Did you have dinner already? I was going to make you something.”

“I decided I’d very much like to avoid food poisoning for the night,” Lucas shrugged, and Eliott’s smirk disappeared.

“You said you love my cooking!”

Lucas winced. It was quite possible he’d only said that because he was too lovestruck to claim otherwise. “I’m sorry, your cooking is god awful.”

“Lu!”

“Eli!”

“Don’t make me come over there…”

“Oh yeah? And do what?” Lucas teased, knowing by the glint in Eliott’s eye and the way he shifted his position and his grip on the towel that he was driving Eliott as crazy as Eliott was driving him.

Maybe he should have felt guilty about how easily Eliott believed him, but the satisfaction that rose in its place felt too good to even consider feeling guilty.

It wasn’t a problem. He had it under control.

Vendredi 3:58

Eliott’s soft breaths tickled Lucas’ chest as he ran a hand through Eliott’s hair. Eliott was sprawled out on top of him, deep in slumber and Lucas checked every once and a while to make sure he hadn’t woken him.

Eliott either slept like the dead or the very much alive, jolting with every touch, refusing to stay in the same position for more than thirty seconds. That night, thankfully was a sleep like the dead night. It was comforting to Lucas to know that, even when he couldn’t sleep, Eliott could. He liked making Eliott feel safe in his arms.

He wasn’t sure why he was still awake when he knew he had to get up in about two hours, other than his mind and body hating him. For the most part, sleeping next to Eliott had helped him with his insomniatic patterns, but there was still nights like these where sleep felt like an illusion, a dream in and of itself.

Every now and then he found himself drifting, but his body could never commit to it, jolting him awake before the sweet bliss of thoughtlessness could consume him. So, instead of focusing on the fact that he couldn’t sleep, he focused on another of the many things running through his head.

Polaris was at the center of his thoughts, even though Swan Lake was probably more demanding at that point. Though that was just it, wasn’t it? Part of why he thought about, committed so much time to thinking about Polaris was because it wasn’t as demanding. He could take all the time he needed to make all the music perfect, and he had Eliott supporting him every step of the way. It was nice to feel like he was wanted in something he was passionate about.

Rehearsals made him feel that way at times, but he and Imane had pretty much been cast to the side recently, working on their corps choreography instead of practicing with the leads now that they knew all of that choreography. It was frustrating, to have put so much energy into something and still be treated like he was disposable, but such was the life of a ballet dancer. He was sure it would only get worse once he entered a company full time.

If he entered a company full time.

It was easy to pretend, with Eliott and with everyone else, that he had no doubts. Of course he’d get into a company, and from there he’d work his way up to principal dancer, no matter how long it took. But none of that was certain. He could audition for a hundred different companies and get rejected by all of them. He wasn’t the type of person that was anyone’s first choice.

He wasn’t even Eliott’s first choice, if he really thought about it. Not that he should think about it, but it was hard not to sometimes. Lucille, even if Eliott hadn’t loved her as much as Lucas, had been the first choice, and there was probably some part of Eliott that would always be aware of that. Lucas knew that there was always some part of him that would, despite the fact that he knew the love the two of them shared had nothing on Lucas and Eliott’s love.

Lucas was the type to refuse to let himself fail in all areas of his life, so his relationship with Eliott had just become one more thing Lucas would try his hardest to make work against all circumstances, because this failure would mean losing all the light he’d come to know in the past few weeks, plunging back into the darkness he was accustomed to, but afraid of nonetheless.

Even though he was the type of person to refuse to let himself fail, a voice in the back of his mind always reminded him that it was a great possibility. He couldn’t afford to fail, to do anything other than dance. University didn’t interest him, but neither did any other menial jobs he would need to get to survive outside of the ballet world. Maybe he had a future in composition, but he’d always wanted people to see him, not see other people dancing to his music. Why couldn’t he have both?

Maybe he’d been conditioned to be humble to the point that he was afraid to ask for the spotlight, even when he knew he deserved it. He could talk to his friends about wanting a lead role, but he always just accepted it when he didn’t get one as if he’d known all along that this was the way it would turn out. It was frustrating, but he didn’t know how to go about changing it.

Eliott probably could have quit dance tomorrow and been melancholy for a while, but found a new passion that he excelled at, not caring much so long as he had someone he loved by his side. Lucas wasn’t like that. He’d like to say that he was the type of person to be satisfied with a life full of love or happiness, but he knew himself. He knew he could never be happy if he wasn’t trying to make a name for himself or be the best in whatever area he pursued.

Here he was, happiest he’d ever been, but he still wasn’t satisfied. He still wanted more. Call him ambitious, prideful, he knew it was all true, and he accepted it.

Pride was one of the deadliest sins, but Lucas saw no universe in which he could let his go. It was a part of him just as much as his hair or his eyes or his own brain. Maybe he should have tried to let it go, just a little bit, but he didn’t really know who he was without it.

He never understood how to feel that way about a person, either, to not know how to be without them. He’d never felt like that with his mother, certainly not his father, and Manon was the only one who had ever really come close to being like a true family, but he could still survive without her if he had to. It worried him, lying there with Eliott on his chest, that Eliott might be the first person to ever make him lose himself if Eliott ever left his life. He didn’t want to be dependent, didn’t want to live a life so precariously to the point that he couldn’t exist without the love from another.

Living without love for so long had made him capable of handling the world on his own, but now Eliott was here, and Eliott loved him, and he didn’t know what it meant if he craved that love he’d lacked for so long.

Heartlessness was a curse only to those who didn’t know how to wield it the way he’d learned how to over many years. If he couldn’t find it in himself to be heartless anymore, did that make him weak? Did it make him weak to fall asleep with another body wrapped around his every night, finding comfort in the way it helped settle his thoughts and turn his mind off enough to breathe freely even if only for a night?

Granted, he wasn’t finding that comfort at the present moment, watching the clock tick minute by minute as if it were scolding him for being awake. Eliott shifted his body, placing a sleepy kiss on Lucas’ collarbone, one that Lucas was certain he wouldn’t remember in the morning, before settling back in, cocooning himself around Lucas like he was his lifeline.

In that moment, Lucas didn’t care if it made him weak, he snuggled right back into Eliott, shutting his eyes and tuning his mind to the sounds of Eliott breathing. He could worry about the rest of his life tomorrow, right now he needed to allow himself to be weak, if being held in the arms of someone who loved you was what weakness was.

#skam france #elu fic #elu ballet au #last dance #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #elu

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theadmiringbog · 4 years

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I had a fragile but agreeable life: a job as an assistant at a small literary agency in Manhattan; a smattering of beloved friends on whom I exercised my social anxiety, primarily by avoiding them.

I wanted to make money, because I wanted to feel affirmed, confident, and valued. I wanted to be taken seriously. Mostly, I didn’t want anyone to worry about me.

Conversation with the cofounders had been so easy, and the interviews so much more like coffee dates than the formal, sweaty-blazer interrogations I had experienced elsewhere, that at a certain point I wondered if maybe the three of them just wanted to hang out.

They wore shirts that were always crisp and modestly buttoned to the clavicle. They were in long-term relationships with high-functioning women, women with great hair with whom they exercised and shared meals at restaurants that required reservations. They lived in one-bedroom apartments in downtown Manhattan and had no apparent need for psychotherapy. They shared a vision and a game plan. They weren’t ashamed to talk about it, weren’t ashamed to be openly ambitious. Fresh off impressive positions and prestigious summer internships at large tech corporations in the Bay Area, they spoke about their work like industry veterans, lifelong company men. They were generous with their unsolicited business advice, as though they hadn’t just worked someplace for a year or two but built storied careers. They were aspirational. I wanted, so much, to be like—and liked by—them.

It was thrilling to watch the moving parts of a business come together; to feel that I could contribute.

What I also did not understand at the time was that the founders had all hoped I would make my own job, without deliberate instruction. The mark of a hustler, a true entrepreneurial spirit, was creating the job that you wanted and making it look indispensable, even if it was institutionally unnecessary.

I wasn’t used to having the sort of professional license and latitude that the founders were given. I lacked their confidence, their entitlement. I did not know about startup maxims to experiment and “own” things. I had never heard the common tech incantation Ask forgiveness, not permission.

I had also been spoiled by the speed and open-mindedness of the tech industry, the optimism and sense of possibility. In publishing, no one I knew was ever celebrating a promotion. Nobody my age was excited about what might come next. Tech, by comparison, promised what so few industries or institutions could, at the time: a future.

“How would you explain the tool to your grandmother?” “How would you describe the internet to a medieval farmer?” asked the sales engineer, opening and closing the pearl snaps on his shirt,

Good interface design was like magic, or religion:

The first time I looked at a block of code and understood what was happening, I felt like nothing less than a genius.

Anything an app or website’s users did—tap a button, take a photograph, send a payment, swipe right, enter text—could be recorded in real time, stored, aggregated, and analyzed in those beautiful dashboards. Whenever I explained it to friends, I sounded like a podcast ad.

four-person companies trying to gamify human resources

... how rare the analytics startup was. Ninety-five percent of startups tanked. We weren’t just beating the odds; we were soaring past them.

While I usually spent sleepless nights staring at the ceiling and worrying about my loved ones’ mortality, he worked on programming side projects. Sometimes he just passed the time between midnight and noon playing a long-haul trucking simulator. It was calming, he said. There was a digital CB radio through which he could communicate with other players. I pictured him whispering into it in the dark.

At the start of each meeting, the operations manager distributed packets containing metrics and updates from across the company: sales numbers, new signups, deals closed. We were all privy to high-level details and minutiae, from the names and progress of job candidates to projected revenue. This panoramic view of the business meant individual contributions were noticeable; it felt good to identify and measure our impact.

Was this what it felt like to hurtle through the world in a state of pure confidence, I wondered, pressing my fingers to my temples—was this what it was like to be a man?

I was interested in talking about empathy, a buzzword used to the point of pure abstraction,

The hierarchy was pervasive at the analytics startup, ingrained in the CEO’s dismissal of marketing and insistence that a good product would sell itself.

He just taught himself to code over the summer, I heard myself say of a job candidate one afternoon. It floated out of my mouth with the awe of someone relaying a miracle.

As early employees, we were dangerous. We had experienced an early, more autonomous, unsustainable iteration of the company. We had known it before there were rules. We knew too much about how things worked, and harbored nostalgia and affection for the way things were.

The obsession with meritocracy had always been suspect at a prominent international company that was overwhelmingly white, male, and American, and had fewer than fifteen women in Engineering.

For years, my coworkers explained, the absence of an official org chart had given rise to a secondary, shadow org chart, determined by social relationships and proximity to the founders. Employees who were technically rank-and-file had executive-level power and leverage. Those with the ear of the CEO could influence hiring decisions, internal policies, and the reputational standing of their colleagues. “Flat structure, except for pay and responsibilities,” said an internal tools developer, rolling her eyes. “It’s probably easier to be a furry at this company than a woman.”

“It’s like no one even read ‘The Tyranny of Structurelessness,’” said an engineer who had recently read “The Tyranny of Structurelessness.”

Can’t get sexually harassed when you work remotely, we joked, though of course we were wrong.

I was in a million places at once. My mind pooled with strangers’ ideas, each joke or observation or damning polemic as distracting and ephemeral as the next. It wasn’t just me. Everyone I knew was stuck in a feedback loop with themselves. Technology companies stood by, ready to become everyone’s library, memory, personality. I read whatever the other nodes in my social networks were reading. I listened to whatever music the algorithm told me to. Wherever I traveled on the internet, I saw my own data reflected back at me: if a jade face-roller stalked me from news site to news site, I was reminded of my red skin and passive vanity. If the personalized playlists were full of sad singer-songwriters, I could only blame myself for getting the algorithm depressed.

As we left the theater in pursuit of a hamburger, I felt rising frustration and resentment. I was frustrated because I felt stuck, and I was resentful because I was stuck in an industry that was chipping away at so many things I cared about. I did not want to be an ingrate, but I had trouble seeing why writing support emails for a venture-funded startup should offer more economic stability and reward than creative work or civic contributions. None of this was new information—and it was not as if tech had disrupted a golden age of well-compensated artists—but I felt it fresh.

I had never really considered myself someone with a lifestyle, but of course I was, and insofar as I was aware of one now, I liked it. The tech industry was making me a perfect consumer of the world it was creating. It wasn’t just about leisure, the easy access to nice food and private transportation and abundant personal entertainment. It was the work culture, too: what Silicon Valley got right, how it felt to be there. The energy of being surrounded by people who so easily articulated, and satisfied, their desires. The feeling that everything was just within reach.

We wanted to be on the side of human rights, free speech and free expression, creativity and equality. At the same time, it was an international platform, and who among us could have articulated a coherent stance on international human rights? We sat in our apartments tapping on laptops purchased from a consumer-hardware company that touted workplace tenets of diversity and liberalism but manufactured its products in exploitative Chinese factories using copper and cobalt mined in Congo by children. We were all from North America. We were all white, and in our twenties and thirties. These were not individual moral failings, but they didn’t help. We were aware we had blind spots. They were still blind spots. We struggled to draw the lines. We tried to distinguish between a political act and a political view; between praise of violent people and praise of violence; between commentary and intention. We tried to decipher trolls’ tactical irony. We made mistakes.

I did not want two Silicon Valleys. I was starting to think the one we already had was doing enough damage. Or, maybe I did want two, but only if the second one was completely different, an evil twin: Matriarchal Silicon Valley. Separatist-feminist Silicon Valley. Small-scale, well-researched, slow-motion, regulated Silicon Valley—men could hold leadership roles in that one, but only if they never used the word “blitzscale” or referred to business as war.

“Progress is so unusual and so rare, and we’re all out hunting, trying to find El Dorado,” Patrick said.

“Almost everyone’s going to return empty-handed. Sober, responsible adults aren’t going to quit their jobs and lives to build companies that, in the end, may not even be worth it. It requires, in a visceral way, a sort of self-sacrificing.”

Only later did I consider that he might have been trying to tell me something.

Abuses were considered edge cases, on the margin—flaws that could be corrected by spam filters, or content moderators, or self-regulation by unpaid community members. No one wanted to admit that abuses were structurally inevitable: indicators that the systems—optimized for stickiness and amplification, endless engagement—were not only healthy, but working exactly as designed.

The SF Bay Area is like Rome or Athens in antiquity, posted a VC. Send your best scholars, learn from the masters and meet the other most eminent people in your generation, and then return home with the knowledge and networks you need. Did they know people could see them?

I couldn’t imagine making millions of dollars every year, then choosing to spend my time stirring shit on social media. There was almost a pathos to their internet addiction. Log off, I thought. Just email each other.

All these people, spending their twenties and thirties in open-plan offices on the campuses of the decade’s most valuable public companies, pouring themselves bowls of free cereal from human bird feeders, crushing empty cans of fruit-tinged water, bored out of their minds but unable to walk away from the direct deposits—it was so unimaginative. There was so much potential in Silicon Valley, and so much of it just pooled around ad tech, the spillway of the internet economy.

Though I did not want what Patrick and his friends wanted, there was still something appealing to me about the lives they had chosen. I envied their focus, their commitment, their ability to know what they wanted, and to say it out loud—the same things I always envied.

I wanted to believe that as generations turned over, those coming into economic and political power would build a different, better, more expansive world, and not just for people like themselves. Later, I would mourn these conceits. Not only because this version of the future was constitutionally impossible—such arbitrary and unaccountable power was, after all, the problem—but also because I was repeating myself. I was looking for stories; I should have seen a system. The young men of Silicon Valley were doing fine. They loved their industry, loved their work, loved solving problems. They had no qualms. They were builders by nature, or so they believed. They saw markets in everything, and only opportunities. They had inexorable faith in their own ideas and their own potential. They were ecstatic about the future. They had power, wealth, and control. The person with the yearning was me.

could have stayed in my job forever, which was how I knew it was time to go. The money and the ease of the lifestyle weren’t enough to mitigate the emotional drag of the work: the burnout, the repetition, the intermittent toxicity. The days did not feel distinct. I felt a widening emptiness, rattling around my studio every morning, rotating in my desk chair. I had the luxury, if not the courage, to do something about it.

As I stood in the guest entrance, waiting for the stock plan administrator to collect the paperwork, I watched my former coworkers chatting happily with one another in the on-site coffee shop and felt, wrenchingly, that leaving had been a huge mistake. Certain unflattering truths: I had felt unassailable behind the walls of power. Society was shifting, and I felt safer inside the empire, inside the machine. It was preferable to be on the side that did the watching than on the side being watched.

#uncanny valley #books #best of

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fanfic-inator795 · 5 years

Text

RotTMNT/Baron Jitsu fanfiction: Dating… With Children - Chapter Four

(Also on AO3 if you want to leave a comment or kudos)

Plot: Benjamin Draxum hardly considered himself a man of high social standing. Not because he was uncouth or unworthy of it, mind you, but simply because he didn’t have much of a social life. Hard to have one when he usually spent his days at work, cooped up in a lab for so long that he often had his lunches in there, and his nights at home reading or doing research for more personal projects. But perhaps meeting handsome semi-retired movie star - as well as his four young sons - could change all that…

First off: Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments, it's just so SO encouraging that people are supporting this AU ^v^ Your kind words and feedback mean the world to me!

Secondly: That hiatus I was gonna go on to work on original stuff? Yeahhhh, didn't really pan out... BUT, i'm still gonna try to work on original stuff the best I can, I'm just gonna also work on fanfics when I'm in the mood. I figured trying to limit myself and divide my focus is better than going cold turkey on fanfics and not having anything to work on when I hit writer's block on my original stuff. So yeah, expect semi-frequent updates, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter! ^v^ Quick note: It takes place directly after Lou and Draxum's date in the last chapter (but before the little bit at the end of ch. 3 with Draxum going into work and Huginn and Muninn noticing his good mood, heh). Okay, here we go!

“...So, how come we’re meeting Dr. Draxum for breakfast?” Raph asked, glancing away from his window and the passing New York architecture.

“Actually it's brunch, but yeah, why?” Donnie said from the back-left seat, though he didn't bother to look up from his book, “Didn't you guys JUST see each other yesterday night?”

“I bet you guys are really good friends now!” Mikey grinned, “Just like us an’ April!”

Looking up from the road for just a moment, Lou smiled at his youngest son using the rear view mirror. “Yes, we are… But, Dr. Draxum wanted to see you all again too.” He left it at that for now, wanting him and his new boyfriend to explain the situation to his children together, as well as answer any questions they may have had.

Thankfully, three of his four kids were satisfied with this answer and went back to either looking out the window or, in Donnie’s case, reading. Leo however couldn't help but stare at his father. Something was up… He knew something was up! Maybe he wasn't as smart as his twin, but Leo still liked to think that he was a bit more observant than the average six year old, at least.

He saw the extra smiles his dad would make whenever Draxum was mentioned, and how excited he was to see him again. And his face would sometimes get sorta red too… While yeah, Leo would've been happy with his dad just making a new friend, there was something about how he hung out with the long-haired doctor that made him seem like way more than a friend. How happy his dad was to see or hear from him, how long they'd talk over the phone, how close they'd sit or stand near each other…

Oh yeah, Leo could see it clearly. The boy tipped his blue cap low over his face, trying to hide his smirk. He'd seen enough Disney movies to know EXACTLY where this was going - and maybe he hadn't shared his theory with his brothers yet, but he was still gonna rub it in their faces that he knew all along.

Soon enough, the family of five arrived at one of the big city’s cozy local diners. Before moving to help his kids out of the car, Lou made sure to swap out his normal yellow tinted glasses with his darker sunglasses - or his ‘sneaking around so no one knows I'm a movie star’ glasses, as dubbed by his kids. (Not that they even really minded whenever their dad was ambushed by fans, usually making a game out of who could sneak into the most photos or who could get the most compliments.)

Thankfully, the glasses did their job, and the hostess greeted them like she would any family. “Table for six, please,” Lou told her, “we’re still waiting for one other person.” The hostess nodded and led them to a large, round table near the back of the restaurant.

It was only a few minutes later, after they were given coffee, milk and free crayons to draw on the kids menus with, that Draxum arrived looking the most casual that Lou had ever seen him. The scientist was wearing a dark green polo with brown jeans, and his long hair was actually loose rather than in a ponytail or braid, instead simply resting over his broad shoulders. Lou quickly waved him over, flashing his boyfriend a grin that in turn made him smile softly.

“‘Morning, Dr. Draxum!” Raph greeted while Mikey waved and the twins nodded.

“Good morning to you as well, boys,” he nodded back, sitting down, “And to you, Lou.”

“Yes, a very good morning.” Lowering his voice a bit, Lou added, “For the record, you should definitely wear your hair down more often.”

Draxum rolled his eyes, though let himself smile back at the man just a little. “I’ll consider it. So, what's everyone get-?”

“Waffles!” “Pancakes!” “French toast!” “Breakfast burritooooo!”

“Boys, inside voices, remember?” Lou lightly scolded. His boys mumbled an apology before eagerly making additions to their breakfast requests, now at a much quieter volume. Draxum smiled, a bit amused by the wholesome scene. How Lou could manage to keep a level head while raising four slightly rowdy boys on his own, Draxum didn't know, but it was certainly impressive. Maybe fatherhood was just easier after dealing with the stresses of Hollywood, Draxum supposed.

“I’ll probably just get one of these bacon and cheese omelets,” Lou told him, “and what are you getting?”

His date hummed. “I think I may get a couple pieces of French toast, as well. Though just so you know, we’re getting separate checks-”

“Ah-ah, no way,” Lou told him, insistent, “You made dinner last night, I can buy breakfast today.”

“Technically it's brunch, and honestly Lou, this was my idea and I'm perfectly capable of buying my own breakfast-”

“Didn't say you weren't, Ben.” The ex-star then angled his face down a bit so Draxum could see his eyes over his glasses. “I'm just saying that I'm the type who likes to treat a guy right.”

Draxum huffed. “How annoyingly chivalrous of you,” he retorted, even if his expression was anything but annoyed. Lou just flashed him a grin.

While his brothers continued to draw and talk, no longer interested in the strange conversation, Leo just made a face at the two adults across from him. What was that thing grown ups called it? Flirting? Was this flirting? Groooooss - even if it was another bit of proof that he was right in his deduction.

Eventually, the waitress returned and took their orders. Having more than a few minutes until their food would be brought back, Lou decided that there was no better time than now. “So, my sons,” he began, getting his kids’ attention. Draxum also made sure to sit up a bit straighter, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

...Hoping for approval from kids under ten years old. Huh… What a strange turn his life had taken in just a few weeks.

Lou seemed to feel the same, fidgeting his hands slightly as he made sure his tone stayed calm. “There was a reason why we - er, Dr. Draxum and I - wanted us all to have brunch together, because there is something we wanted to tell you all. Ah, don't worry, it's nothing bad, though it's also okay if you aren't too sure about it or have questions, okay? We just want to be honest with you all.”

“Well, what is it?” Raph asked, voicing what he as well as Donnie and Mikey were thinking.

“Well… Dr. Draxum and I have decided to officially start dating.” Lou felt himself grin, still feeling the leftover excitement and happiness from the night before. “As of last night, he is my new boyfriend.”

“Yes,” Draxum stiffly nodded, figuring he should participate in this too, “We are dating and, and we hope that you are all alright with that.”

Raph began to speak when Leo let out a cheer. “YES! I knew it! I knew you guys were gonna say that!” The boy in blue exclaimed.

“What?! Nuh uh!” Donnie argued, “you couldn't have known!” At the same time, Mikey asked in awe, “How'd you know?”

“Cause I saw how Dad would give Dr. Draxum weird smiles, and he'd do the same to Dad,” Leo told them, “And I saw how they'd get all lovey dovey and do the weird-gross flirty thing too! So I just knew they were in love!”

Draxum held back a chuckle. As embarrassing as it was to have it all laid out in the open like that - and by a child, no less - there really was no denying it at this point. He had fallen in love, and had done it more quickly than he ever would he thought. Perhaps Lou just had that special something, or maybe it was just easy for him to drag people up to his speed. Either way, Draxum couldn't say he wasn't grateful for it. Not when the results were this surprisingly satisfying.

“...Hey, Dr. Draxum.” Brought out of his thoughts, Draxum directed his attention squarely on the boy in red. “How come you think we wouldn't be alright with you dating our dad?”

“Er, well-”

“Cause you're really cool-”

“And nice!” Mikey chimed in.

“And super smart,” Donnie smiled.

“And really tall with pretty hair,” Leo added.

“Yeah! So you seem like a good boyfriend to us!” Raph finished, nodding at the doctor in approval, “Just as long as you keep bein’ nice to our dad and don't make hurt his feelings or cheat or anything!” At this, all four boys put on a bit of a scowl, a silent (and unfortunately for them, sort of adorable) warning.

Still, even while being a bit shocked that kids so young apparently knew what cheating was, Draxum made sure to look serious as possible as he nodded back at them. “I promise to try and be the best boyfriend I can be to your father.” After he said this, he felt a hand grip his from under the table. Looking back at his date, he saw a much softer smile now.

“And I will promise the same thing,” Lou said simply. And that was all Draxum needed.

“...So, what made you wanna start dating Pop anyway?” Donnie asked, raising an eyebrow, “Wouldn't you wanna date someone as smart as you?”

Draxum quickly brought his other hand up to his mouth, trying to cover up his muffled laughter while Lou gave his middle child a bit of a look. “Geez, Donnie, you should be a bit nicer to your old man, don't you think?”

“I'm not trying to be mean!” Donnie argued, “I just thought it was kinda weird. Don't scientists date each other?”

“Maybe in the movies and comics,” Draxum told him, “Not so much in real life. But as for why I wanted to start dating your father, well… It's the same reason why I chose to keep in contact with him after meeting him at the museum: I enjoy his company, and I feel comfortable with him.”

“And I'm ‘less annoying than other people’, you can't forget that,” Lou quoted with a grin. Draxum nudged him with his elbow, and Lou nudged him right back.

“So, wait,” Leo said, grimacing as he began to realize the downside to being right, “if you're boyfriends, does that mean you guys gonna start making out all the time now?”

Draxum immediately blushed, which in turn caused Lou to laugh, too amused to be embarrassed. “No, we are not going to be making out all the time. We are however still going to kiss and hug sometimes, but we’ll try to do it when you kids aren't watching, okay?”

Leo still stuck out his tongue, “Grossss.” Lou just chuckled again, leaning over and ruffling the boy’s hair.

“How do they know what ‘making out’ and ‘cheating’ are?” Draxum whispered.

His boyfriend sighed slightly. “Let’s just say that Donatello is way too good at hacking the parental locks on the tv.”

Draxum shook his head, an amused smile returning to his face. Unbelievable… Yet completely fitting. As he spotted the waitress returning with their food, he felt himself relax. That had gone over pretty well, actually. The kids were okay with it, they answered all their questions, and there had only been maybe one or two awkward moments, and they were going to have a decent, hot meal to finish off the occasion. All in all, not bad.

His French toast was looking really good as well, topped with powdered sugar and brought with hot syrup. Everyone else quickly dug into their meals - with the exception of Mikey and Lou, with the latter helping the former cut his breakfast burrito up into a more manageable size for such tiny hands - so Draxum didn't hesitate to do the same. He cut off a piece, brought it to his mouth, and-

“Are you two gonna get married?”

Draxum sputtered, nearly choking on his bite but forcing himself to swallow. “W-Wha-?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lou sitting up a bit straighter, forcing a sheepish smile. “Ah, heh, Mikey, that's-”

“Oh yeah!” Raph said, nodding at his youngest brother, “Grown ups who date always get married.”

“Not always,” Donnie lightly argued as he poured syrup on his pancakes, “They also breakup sometimes.”

“But that counts as being mean, right?” Leo asked, “So if Dr, Draxum breaks up with Dad, are we allowed to beat ‘im up?”

“You boys will not be beating anyone up,” Lou said sternly, “And, ah, marriage is, well, i-it's a long way off. Very long way. We just want to enjoy dating each other for right now, understand?” The boys all sort of shrugged and nodded, accepting it more than understanding.

“Though, I will probably be around a bit more often to visit you all as well as, well, taking your father out on dates,” Draxum added, “Which means you all don't have to be so formal with me. I won't mind if you don't use my title or call me Benjamin or Ben instead.”

Mikey hummed, scooping up a forkful of burrito. “Nah, I'm gonna keep calling you Draxum.”

“It does sound cooler,” Leo commented, “Way cooler than just Ben.”

“Well, fair enough, I suppose,” Draxum told them, not minding the technical insult.

Thankfully there were no more surprise questions for the rest of their meal, even if the conversation itself was still primarily controlled by the children at the table. Donnie and Leo happily shared the books and comics they would be hoping to find at the library later that day, sparking a discussion for all three of them about their favorite books and stories. Granted most of Draxum’s favorites were a bit too high-concept for children, but he was happy to break them down for them, endeared by their comments and observations.

On the other side, Lou listened to his oldest and youngest sons tell him about the puppet show that would also be happening that day - both the good and bad things about it. (“Raphael, baby, I promise you that the puppets are not actually alive, nor are they evil, no matter what the older kids say.”) When Mikey decided to invite Draxum to come along with them to watch, Lou had to hold back a laugh when he saw the taller man’s face twist into a forced smile.

“As… fun as that sounds, Michael, I have a few errands I need to run before the day is over, so I don't think I’ll have the time.” He may have liked Lou’s kids, but he had his limits. “But I hope you and your brothers enjoy yourselves.”

“We will!” Mikey grinned, while Raph just slouched in his seat, looking much more unsure. Lou gave him another pat on the back.

Once the dishes were cleared away and Lou paid the bill, the six of them headed out to Lou’s car, with Draxum once again taking the extra step to walk him to it.

“Well, that went over pretty well, don't you think?” Lou asked, leaning on his gold painted vehicle, his kids already inside.

Draxum nodded. “Yes, I'd say it was the best reaction we could've hoped for.” He chuckled lightly before adding, “Though, I’ll have to keep your sons’ warning in mind.”

“Oh, I'm not worried.” Maybe they would last and maybe they wouldn't, but Lou had a feeling he didn't have to be concerned about his new lover cheating on him or doing anything else extremely hurtful. Although, there was one other thought in his mind… “But, ah, I'm sorry if any of the boys’ questions caught you off guard.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his smile a bit more sheepish. “Like… The whole marriage thing?”

Draxum stared at him for a moment, taking him in as he tried to wrap his head around the image of such a normally open and bold person actually looking somewhat bashful. He felt his own smile soften a bit. “While it may have surprised me a bit, yes, I supposed we should have expected it. It's only natural for a child to jump to things like that, after all. ...But, I think that you were more flustered by the idea than I was.”

Despite the heat returning to his face ever so slightly, the ex-star scoffed. “What, me? Nahhh, never!” Lou insisted. He might have gone on, if he hadn't noticed Draxum’s flat stare. “...Well, I mean, maybe a little. But, but not because the idea is unappealing or anything! I've got nothing against commitment, I can assure you I have been in exclusive relationships before-”

Lou cringed. Yeah, tell him about your past loves, that's JUST what your new love wants to hear! “I just, ah- we don't want to take things TOO fast, you know? We just started dating, for goodness sake! I may enjoy life in the fast lane sometimes but- Er, but like I said, I wouldn't mind getting married either. Totally cool with marriage! Definitely wouldn't mind if it was with you! That is, as long as you wanted to-” Wait, you guys literally got together YESTERDAY, are you seriously-? “N-Not that you have to decide that this very moment, that would be ridiculous! Heh…”

Lou held back a groan, feeling like he could slap himself as Draxum continued to stare at him, eyebrows raised. When it came to things like flirting and getting people on his good side, it felt like he could do know wrong, words and smiles flowing through him like air. But sometimes, when it was time for much more emotional and personal things - the more awkward things - it was like being shoved into a soundstage without a script! “Look, what I'm trying to say is-!”

*BEEEEEEEEP!*

Both men flinched at the loud horn, with Lou nearly crashing right into Draxum’s chest. “Daaaaad, are we gonna go yet?” a muffled voice from the car asked.

“I will be there in a moment, Leo, now please get back in your seat!” Sighing, he turned back to Draxum.

“So,” Draxum began, his gaze still soft and free of judgement despite everything, “what were you trying to say, Lou?”

“...I think, what I am trying to say… Is that I do not want to pressure you into anything, or push you into anything because… I don't want that either.” Even if Draxum was the first person he felt fairly serious about. Feeling a smile come onto his face, if only a little, made his thoughts come to him a bit more easily.

“You… You are a good man. Smart and interesting, fun and kind and-” And hot, so VERY handsome- “and, I want to just enjoy being in these moments with you, without really thinking of- without worrying about the future, because… Well, you're the first person that I've wanted to do that with in a long time. Not in a ‘this is a fling’ sort of way but, just in an ‘I enjoy being around you, and this feels good so let's just roll with it, a-and I also really don't want to lose this feeling or scare you off’ way, you know?”

“...Well, maybe not the fling thing but, yes, I do understand,” Draxum told him, taking a step as he kept the space between them close, “and, considering that you've kept me for this long… I think you and your kids would have to try a lot harder if you ever did want to scare me off.”

Lou grinned, taking his boyfriend’s hand. “Heh, I will keep that in mind…” Speaking of his kids, even without any more blasts from a car horn, he could hear them start to complain. Draxum could hear it too, and gave Lou a quick peck on the cheek before he needed to leave.

“Until our next appointment, doc?” Lou said, stepping back and putting his hand on the driver’s door handle.

“Are you going to keep using that line?”

“Sure am!” Draxum sighed, briefly wondering why he was agreeing to all of this again, and remembering only a second later as he watched Lou smile and cheer along with his kids as they finally left the parking lot…

He was nearly in bed when he heard from Lou again, only it wasn't a phone call but a text. Specifically, a text and a photo of a simple, fairly messy drawing of the two of them, holding hands and surrounded by a giant pink, glittery heart (as well as small, multi-colored hearts).

“Look what Mikey drew at the library arts and crafts table. I think he supports us - and he captured your likeness pretty well!”

Draxum scoffed despite his smirk as he texted back, “That boy of yours is too adorable for his own good.”

Lou’s reply came in only a couple seconds later. “I’ll let him know you liked it. ;)”

Draxum nodded at the screen. He expected to be bombarded with numerous similar looking drawings the next time he visited the Jitsu home, but it was just as well.

Taking a moment to save the picture to his phone, Draxum then set his alarm before getting into bed, a fairly relaxed and content expression on his face as he slipped into sleep.

((Splinter's awkward dad apology/speech at the end of 'Evil League of Mutants' is so sweet, he's trying his best, ya'll... Such a good rat dad... But yeah, that's pretty much where I got my inspiration for quite a bit of Lou's dialogue in this chapter, lol. Just another side of him I wanted to show. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed! ^v^))

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #baron jitsu #baron draxum #lou jitsu #human au #fanfiction #my writing

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