#So he's excited to be the only one aware of FF's secret | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wannabegwenstacy · 4 years ago

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Eden's Favorite Fic's (BTS Fic Recs)

Updated Version: Here!

Note: In the past I haven't indulged in tumblr fics often but I recently (past 3 months) have been reading quite regularly & am planning on branching out a bit. To keep track of the ones that I have enjoyed & the ones that I have even came back to I'm making this list. Again, I haven't been digging into the tumblr fics world for long so for right now its a very short list. I'm hoping with time I can get more fics of different types on here (btsxbts, some gender neutral xreader ones, & more ones that I genuinely like)

About me to understand what's going to be on here:

Age: 21 (99' liner)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Pronouns: She/Her

Ult Bias: Yoongi

Trio: Rap Line

I am OT7. I do enjoy smut but don't think it is necessary to FF. Overall I just want a well-crafted plot that makes sense. I read for entertainment & to escape. But I still need some form of realism (just me personally) to follow the trail of events. PSA: I'm trying to find a broader scope of writers I like but for right now I don't have many. There are gonna be some repetitive writers for now.

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Kim Namjoon:

- Librarian Namjoon Universe by @jungshookz

Beauty & the Bookworm (I love this concept SO MUCH)

Pairing: Cute, Good Boy, Nerdy, University Librarian Namjoon x Bratty, Semi-Popular, Procrastinator, University Student Reader

Word count: 20.8k

Summary: You're a procrastinator big time and you may or may not be failing. To get some extra credit you begrudgingly take the library assistant opening where you work under strict dorky Namjoon. Passive aggressiveness, cuteness, fluff, & some smuttiness arises.

Jealous-Boyfriend-Librarian Namjoon (Drabble)

Pairing: Jealous Boyfriend Librarian Namjoon x Oblivious Cute Girlfriend Uni Student Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You take an Art History Course and end up needing a tutor. Joon offers to tutor you but he doesn't know shit about Art History so you end up getting tutored by an ArtHoe Taehyung that may or may not like you but you are oblivious to this and Joon gets super jealous.

Kim Seokjin:

- Hockey Player Jin by @ve1vetyoongi

HEART OF GOLD (BLADES OF ICE)

Pairing: Sweet Hot New Hockey Player in Town Jin x Ex-Figure Skater (who has a history with jin) Reader

Word count: 20k

Summary: After a fall during figure skating practice dashes your dreams of competing at nationals, you vow to hang up your skates for good. That is until you cross paths with Kim Seokjin, captain of the ice hockey team, who is determined to get you back out on the rink and melt the ice in your heart. (Jimin is a bully in this and their other k-pop idols as characters. Very Very Fluffy and Hallmark Christmas Movie-ish so be aware of that. Overall, it's just cute :) )

Min Yoongi:

Note: these are all but one by the same writer @jungshookz & are written from the pov of a female reader. I'm gonna try to find some gender-neutral fics but for now, if you are female-identifying I really enjoyed these! :)

- Mechanic Yoongi Universe by @jungshookz

Baby, You Can Drive My Car (My favorite AU Fics I've read so far on Tumblr!!)

Pairing: Tatted, Mic Drop Era, Mechanic Min Yoongi x Spoiled Rich, Inexperienced, University Student Reader

Word count: 24.6k

Summary: Welcome to Min Mechanics - What can I do for you today, doll?

Maybe She Can Drive His Car

Pairing: Oblivious, Hot, Boyfriend, Mechanic Min Yoongi x Adorable, Spoiled, University Student, Jealous Girlfriend Reader

Word count: 11.6k

Summary: Yoongi's ex is back in town for a visit and you would be lying if you said you weren't slightly envious of a) how knowledgeable she is about stupid cars and b) how well she gets along with literally everyone.

- Uni Yoongi x Nerdy Reader (mini series) by @jungshookz

Note: these are all drabbles I'm gonna link my favorites in the series. I'll probably add more later.

Cocky Uni Student Yoongi x Nerdy Reader:

^^This is the start of the mini-series, recommend you read it first!^^

The One with the Scrunchie:

Contains: smut, a super cute scrunchie turning into a kink of sorts, slightly insecure Yoongi, experienced Yoongi, slightly inexperienced reader, shy about their own body reader.

Yoongi always had an Overactive Imagination:

Contains: talking about sex, implied smut, reader trying to be productive while also being horny, Yoongi being super distracted and horny.

"I'm gonna need you to shut up now please"

- CEO Yoongi Universe by @jungshookz

Suit&Tie (First Fic in the series)

Pairing: CEO Min Yoongi x Secretary Reader

Wordcount: 21k+

Summary: Young Intimidating Hot CEO Yoongi, Clumsy Secretary Y/N who loves Sugar, Best Friend Jimin. Funny Awkward Meeting that sets up the whole plot, was like reading a Kdrama in book form.

The One Where Augst D makes a Comeback (Favorite Fic in the series)

SPOILERS READ PRIOR DRABBLES TO CATCH UP!! (I recommend The First Date, The One Where Yoongi is Just a Little Jealous, The Proposal, The Wedding, Baby Makes Three, Baby Min's Timeline, The Birth of Baby Min, Daddy's Little Girl, Who the Hell is Augst D.

Pairing: CEO Min Yoongi x Secretary Reader

Word count: 6.5k

Summary: Yoongi finds out you faked an orgasm and he's going to gi-give it to you more ways than one.

- Demon Yoongi by @jungshookz

Hellish (I got some feelings for incubus Yoongi not gonna lie)

Pairing: Bratty, Super Sexy, Sex Demon, Mint Min Yoongi x University Student, Non-Supernatural Believer Reader

Word count: 22.1k

Summary: Jungkook is your clueless, energetic best friend. Wonho is a character in this fic, You are dragged into summoning a demon one night by your overly excited to be summoning a demon? best friend Jungkook. Spooky but Kind of Sexy Shit Happens! (This is probably my second favorite Yoongi Fic I've read!)

- Basketball Captain Yoongi by @jungshookz

Basketball Captain Yoongi

Pairing: Cocky, Popular, Charming Captain of the Basketball Team Min Yoongi x Water girl University Student Reader (who has been crushing on Yoongi hard for some time)

Word count: 18.4k

Summary: Jungkook is your athletic bro of a best friend that signs you up to be his replacement as the water boy (girl in this case) after he makes the team. You have had a pathetic schoolgirl crush on Yoongi for a while and is basically the only reason you agreed to be the water girl aside from spending time with Jungkook. It's fluffy & smutty!

- Android Yoongi @jungshookz

Technologically in love (..I cried! but I also smiled a lot so you know this is well written)

Pairing: Personal Assistant Prototype but SUPER Lifelike Android Min Yoongi x Messy, Junkfood, & Cartoons Loving Reader (basically your early 20s living alone kind of vibe)

Word count: 24k+

Summary: You live in a Detroit Becoming Human type universe but prior to a lot of the advancements. Androids are already a thing but not to the level the M1N Y00NG1 is yet. You are best friends with all the boys and they happen to be engineers which is how you ended up with Yoongi in the first place. Namjoon created Yoongi as a personal assistant prototype android & you are told to live with him. Things get fluffy, SUPER ANGSTY, and super smutty!

- Listen Closely by @avveh

Listen Closely ( sexiest Yoongi fic I have read so far, I kept wanting to go back and read again)

Pairing: Tsundere Office Worker Min Yoongi x Hardworking Office Worker Reader

Word count: 12.2k

Summary: Unintentionally, you stumble upon something that makes you view your coworker Min Yoongi in a whole new light. (SMUT 18+: Masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breathplay, spanking, degrading names.)

Jung Hoseok:

- Secret Boyfriend Hoseok by @kpopfanfictrash

Keeping a Secret (this took me places...Idk about you but I have trouble finding really good Hoseok fics and this one was perfect. One of my favorite fics on this website)

Pairing: New Relationship Dom Hoseok x New Relationship Tease Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: You and Hoseok have been hooking up for a few weeks now. No one in your friend group knows. What happens then, when he shows up at movie night looking better than anticipated? SMUT!

- Studio Sex Hoseok by @joonbird

Studio:

Pairing: Boyfriend BTS Hoseok x Girlfriend Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Hoseok is stressed about his upcoming mixtape, so you decide to swing by his studio and help him relax. (Hobi being the beautiful glorious sexy man he is and putting those ungodly hips to use!)

Park Jimin:

- Jimin and His Pregnancy Kink by @boymeetsweevil

ME, YOU, AND THIS THING WE HAVE BETWEEN US (NSFW)

Pairing: Sweet Caring Domestic but Horny Jimin x Pregnant Hormonal Reader

Word count:~3.7k

Warnings (aka what to prepare for): everything is graphic and gross lmao, blowjobs (face f*cking), boob job (not the one w/ silicon inserts), cunnilingus, dom!jimin if u squint, cumplay if u squint again, dirty talk/degrading language, penetrative sex (doggy style), unprotected sex, PREGNANCY KINK that’s a big one

Summary: You’re pregnant and Jimin is…happy about it (If I remember correctly this one is 25% cute domestic Jimin trying to calm his hormonal pregnant partner and 75% pure filth aka Jimin having a pregnancy kink and trying to hide it but not well at all. This is however my ultimate fav Jimin smut I have ever read!)

- Crush/Neighbor Jimin by @sketchguk

Lover to Lean On: (I absolutely adore this fic. Overall it's just really well written and I felt like I was watching a show in my head rather than reading a short Tumblr fic. Highly recommend it!)

Pairing: Cute Customer & Neighbor Jimin x Florist Reader

Word Count: 19.9k

Summary: For months, you can hear your no-face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. Above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. You’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course, you’re bitterly single. But one day, the apartment is radio silent. And one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. So on Valentine’s Day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other.

Kim Taehyung:

-Roommate Taehyung Universe by @jungshookz

Stuck with You

Pairing: Frat Bro bit of an asshole Roommate Kim Taehyung x Clean Organized bit of a Pushover Reader

Word count: 37k

Summary: Kim Taehyung becoming your new roommate is definitely up there on the list of the worst things to ever happen to you. Librarian Namjoon is your Best friend and ex-roommate. Frat bro Jeon Jungkook makes an appearance. There is so smut and implied smut.

The One with the One Year Anniversary (Drabble)

Pairing: The cutest domestic boyfriend Kim Taehyung x girlfriend reader

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: NO SPOILERS! so I'm going to give you a quote: "well, um, look! I made breakfast for you. f-for us!" Also, SFW

Jeon Jungkook:

- Gamer Jungkook by @softyoongiionly

PRESS START (this is the cutest fucking smut type fic I have ever read! it is so pure and is the exact type of relationship I want! IT MADE ME SIMP SO HARD!) gender-neutral I believe!

Pairing: Night owl Gamer Domestic Boyfriend Jeon Jungkook x Witty Domestic Cutesy Relationship Reader

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: A night in with your boyfriend Jungkook includes all kinds of things: anime, witty banter, snacks from 7-Eleven and, you know, sex. (GREAT READ!! I AM A SIMP FOR THIS FIC!!)

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poisonousquinzel · 3 years ago

Note

https://lady-ha-ha.tumblr.com/post/160715688748/is-that-comic-before-the-reboot-and-which-one-is

(I have not read this comic) Is this true? (if so, ivy deserves someone better).

Post

Kay, first off both of those people are Jarley shippers so take everything they say with a grain of salt and then some, cause no. that part isn't about how much Harley loves Joker and will always choose him over Ivy. Literally you can tell ops don't know what they're talking about cause her whole thing in those issues is going to kill him for years of graphic abuse but ultimately falls back with him once she’s face to face with him.

Like wow, congrats on missing the fucking point again but not surprised from people who ship her with The Fucking Joker.

also, ffs, can anyone please have basic comprehension skills and realize that Harley and Ivy are both fucked up sometimes because they’ve got issues and that’s not comparable to Joker’s long ass history of graphic and disgusting abuse.

Harley and Ivy are villains, they're not a wholesome cookie cutter, White Picket Fence, super vanilla ship with no bad moments. They're both bad guys with a fuck ton of trauma that they both have to work through, and have done so at this point.

Gotham City Sirens was published between 2009 - 2011, Harley and Ivy weren't blatantly romantic at this point nor had they had anywhere near the development that they’ve had at this point.

Like don’t go into Harlivy content expecting them to be the perfect wlw rep with no flaws during their arcs from BTAS to current time cause that’s just not realistic. They’re both deeply flawed people who’ve got a fuck ton of trauma that they need to (and have) worked through.

I have talked about the BTAS issues here and this post is good at explaining them too.

Harlivy is not and has never been a purely wholesome, goody-goody ship. They’re messy, they have issues, and they have bad moments sometimes, but they both worked through their seperate trauma and came out stronger and better because at the end of the day, they care about each other.

Harlivy has messy, toxic moments sometimes, but they’re not, and have never been, abusive. There’s a difference between unhealthy moments and a ship being abusive.

That’s completely different to how Joker acts Constantly, because he does not care that his actions towards Harley are abusive, because he doesn’t give a shit about her.

He enjoys hurting her. He enjoys ruining her.

Jarley has always been intended to be written and shown as a domestically abusive relationship.

This is also the first instance where it's directly referenced that there's something more than platonic between her and Ivy, other than the reference in Batgirl Adventures.

Gotham City Sirens is also not connected to any verses.

This didn’t happen in the timeline we’re in rn with Harley Quinn (2014)/(2016)/(2021).

Comic timelines and shit are stupid and make everything more confusing and awful and I hate it sdfjdksksdkjsd

this is gonna be a long post since ops wanna just cut and paste random bits of the issues like jarley stans always do (cause jarley never has good moments that aren’t entirely surrounded by him abusing her) I’m going to show them in full context. *added a keep reading cause it is a lot

(All panels shown are from #15, #18, #19, #20, #21, #23, #24, #25)

So, Harley's entire thing at this point in the GCS comic in that she's been triggered by flashbacks of Joker's abuse and she breaks into Arkham with the intent to kill him.

The entire thing in these issues is showing her smarts and how she knows people's trump cards to get under their skin so she can break into Arkham.

She’s trained to identify these things in people and she's fucking good at pushing people's buttons.

this is also just one of my fav Harley covers so I wanted to show it jsdjksdks

“Trump cards. Everyone has one. Places where the armor we build around ourselves is weakest.”

She’s right. And it’s now shown that Harley’s willing to use those below the belt trump cards if she has to.

And frankly, I’d say this is worse than what she says to Ivy. And I’m not surprised she did it. She didn’t want to, she tried to get him to just open the door -

“Don’t make me do this, Aaron. There are some secrets that should stay hidden. Things you should never learn about your own life.”

but she’s also entirely fueled by rage and the desire to kill Joker. She came here for a reason and she’s not leaving until she’s done it.

“I’m going to kill you. For everything you’ve done to me. All the times you’ve made me feel useless and small. For all the times I will never forget. For all the things I can never forgive. All the memories -”

“Hello, Harley. I’ve missed you.”

“Memories. That’s all I have left. The past is gone and all I have is... memories.

Memories.

Memory.

Gone.

I guess I too have a trump card.”

“Oh, Ivy. You know exactly what my answer is going to be. But you’re hoping you’re wrong, aren’t you?”

She’s also right about this, they already mentioned this in #18.

“How did I become the bad guy?”

“You’re the one choosing a man over her girls.”

“Are you kidding me? You would never say that to Harley, and we both know she’d dumb us in a flat second if Joker called her.”

“Hey! That’s not fair-- Actually, that’s probably true.”

“The difference is, she can’t help it. You can. And she’s working on it. You’re not working on it.”

“Too easy, Ivy. Too easy. I know your weak spots. Now I just need to push.”

This is exactly what she’s been doing since the starting point of this post. She’s still in that mindset and she knows she can’t beat her on a regular battle field. Neither of them can.

“Like I said-- You beat me in any level playing field. But I don’t fight on those fields.”

Harley’s biggest strength as a villain is her ability to completely mentally stall her opponents and learn their weak spots. She wouldn’t win against the majority of the Big Bads if she didn’t fight on a different field than they are.

so, like yeah, out of context what she says to Ivy seems awful and completely screwed up, and it is, but it’s also built up really well and it’s completely in character for her at this point in her fall during these issues.

Is what she did fucked? absolutely. It’s not painted that it’s not.

Ivy Literally Goes To Kill Her For It.

In the end of this all three of them are recaptured by Catwoman and Batman and that’s where we’re starting off at again.

“Oh, Harley.

The only human I’ve ever called a friend.

To what lengths will I go? Where are my own limits? She is the Strangler fig. And I am the tree, choking underneath.

Without me, she could never grow.

But without her, I would fall if I grew too tall.”

“Will she ever stand by herself?

Will she ever be ready?

She is in throes of madness. She sees him, her brain flooding with adrenaline, it makes her excited, nervous, then the feelings start to fade, and she needs more. And more.

She sees it as passion. She sees it as love.

But it’s not. It’s addiction. And she’s relapsing.”

Ivy is well aware of the nature of their relationship. She’s not stupid and she’s been shown already to know that it’s something that takes time. It’s not a one off break up and it’s over. That’s not how abusve relationships work.

What do I do?

I could use my pheromones to alter her brain chemistry.

I could leave her behind abandoning her to the wilds of her own mind.

I could kill her right now.

Show her how red Nature can be.

There's one other option.

It would require patience.

Even love.

Maybe I'm more human than I want to admit.

"You have one chance to answer this."

I know, if she agrees, she'll be doing it for revenge. For him.

"She put us behind bars."

But maybe if I get away from this place, if I give her something else to think about. Maybe she can break the cycle. But it has to be her choice.

"I'm going to kill her. Come with me."

So yeah, it’s definitely not a just “Harley hurts her and runs off with Joker and it’s just a plain ol’ her choosing him over everyone and that’s that.”

Jarley shippers love to just reduce all her scenes and arcs down to their “epic love” and shit, but that’s taking away literally everything about her and reducing it down to the 3 panels that they’re “cute” in. Her arc in this part is fucking heartbreaking to read.

And Ivy damn well knows what’s going on with her. She’s smart and she’s the one that’s been there throughout all of this. She found her in the park after he shot her out of a rocket.

And she knows it’ll take time for Harley to get over and through his manipulation, that’s just how it works with abusive relationships.

But she’s also not forgiving at first, she’s mad and rightfully so, until she sees the sate of Harley’s cell and realizes how bad her addiction is at that time.

A lot of the unhealthy moments on Harley’s side when it comes to them are directly caused from the effects of being in an abusive relationship with Joker. Because she’s always in this area of her journey in those moments. She’s never fully over him or emancipated.

And that’s realistic. It’s hard sometimes to be friends with someone who’s in abusive relationships like theirs, having to watch them return to that person time and time again and it’s frustrating after a while.

I know from personal experience, it’s really hard to watch someone you care about go back or forgive someone that continues to hurt them.

But abuse victims desperately need a support system outside of their abuser. It’s a crucial part of being able to escape, because when they do try to get out they need someone there or they’ll literally have no where to go but back into their abuser’s arms.

It’s heartbreaking and it’s really rough for everyone effected, but that’s just how it is most of the time. Especially in their case, as they’re not just regular folk dealing with this.

If she doesn’t have Ivy, Harley has no one else to go to but Joker, on more than just an emotional level.

She’s lost her job. Her income. Her home. Her livelihood. Her everything.

Most of the time she has no other choice but to return to a life of crime after she’s released from Arkham because she can’t get a job, she’s a notorious criminal and she’s got a lot of issues that don’t just disappear with a bit of therapy.

She has no other choice but to return to Joker because the other alternative is the streets. At least she knows what to expect with him.

And that’s not even getting into the manipulation, gaslighting and degrading abuse that he drills into her constantly.

He’s made her believe she’s not anything without him. That she’s not smart or useful or anything.

And that’s why it’s so damn important for her to have a support system and why he’s so damn against Ivy.

Because Ivy is the good voice on her shoulder telling her he’s wrong and that she doesn’t deserve that.

And on Ivy’s side, she’s aware she gets very near cutting off all parts of her humanity.

She’s a plant goddess, she’s insanely powerful and she feels everything through the green. Frankly, she’s not even on the same playing field as these villains. She’s significanty more powerful than Harley and Joker.

Her connection to Harley is what keeps her humanity in tack, because despite everything, she does care about her. She was the first person she let in, the first person Ivy called a friend.

The person that was able to get through to her in #14/#15 when she was losing herself. The one that was able to get through to her that the dude was manipulating her.

“Ivy, I know you think you love this guy... but you’re just gonna end up strapped to his rocket!”

She had to knock her out for the dude to trust her / not attack them anymore. But Harley got through to her by mentioning how they first met in the park when she saved her after Joker shot her off in a rocket.

And Ivy is understandable turned off towards humans considering her origin and trauma around that.

She’s got a lot of trust issues.

But both of them work through their seperate traumas over the years because their affection for each other is stronger than the issues their trauma has given them.

and also, sometimes, they just have shit writers. that’s an issue overall in comic fandoms. Some writers just fucking suck at getting any of the characters right, let alone LGBT characters, who’re notoriously treated like garbage by DC.

#sorry if it came off a bit aggressive anon i don't mind ya asking <3 #ops just annoy me SDJSKSK #tw abuse #tw clown boy #long post #♦️ asks ♦️#harley quinn #harleen quinzel #poison ivy #pamela isley #harlivy #gotham city sirens #me? rambling in detail about Harley? yup yup

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fromtheplanethexagon · 4 years ago

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the robot problem: a critical look at tobecky, 5 years late

hello wordgirl fandom i am back :) and i have a lot of thoughts that i never got around to expressing before i moved on from the show. so be aware that everything i'm saying is based on my experiences during the 2012-2016 era of the fandom & state of tumblr in general, and i am not familiar with more recent fan content.

it's been over five years since the show ended, and @ifbrd reminded me (along with some great analysis) that while tobecky was super popular since before the show technically started (thanks to the play date shorts), it's pretty unhealthy in a lot of ways that tend to be excused or flat out ignored in fanworks. i'd like to reflect on that a bit (a lot); specifically, how both the show and the fandom approached this enemies-to-lovers ship, and how easily this ship can slip into uncomfortable territory if we're careless about how we interpret the ship and create fan content of it.

i will admit, i'm mostly writing this as a response to past me and my old creations - though i moved on from the show as a whole years ago, i do like taking the time to reflect on old interests once in a while, and reevaluating my thoughts on them. and this ship is probably the biggest one that still lurks in the corners of my mind once in a while, so let's go.

cherish is the word: a short positive note before a much longer negative one

i wanted to start this essay off with some positivity, because i am going to be very negative after this. tobecky was, in some ways, cute. it's obvious from the very beginning that these two characters are on pretty equal ground, even if one of them isn't aware of it. and that's part of the fun - the irony of how unaware tobey is that his nemesis/crush/person that pretty much always wins against him is someone that he completely dismisses as incompetent. i want to point this out because honestly, in general i don't like enemies-to-lovers because a lot of them use a power imbalance within the dynamic, and i hate power imbalances, especially when it comes to actual life-or-death scenarios (at least, as much as cartoons can do that). in most episodes, becky is never actually forced to go along with his wishes. she's not held in a 'date' against her will, nor is she ever really outwitted by him. i bring this up because there is one huge, uncomfortable exception, which i will get to later.

another big plus to the ship is the fact that they just... get along? even when fighting? of course we get brief moments where they just hang out and talk about paintings or whatever, but i'm talking about how much they get each other, even if they don't realize it. like the word banter, for example. been there since day one. becky loves words, and while most other people in her life don't really care (ranging from 'eh, that's cool i guess' to her brother calling it annoying), tobey gives her a chance to show off and thus treats her as a worthy adversary as herself, not because of her more generic superpowers - something that we've seen in canon that she feels self-conscious about (see: her motivation in patch game). one of the less noticed examples, to me, is "it's your party and i'll cry if I want to", because it's just - okay. they both are excluded from a social event, and while it's obvious that tobey deals with it by destroying the city, it's also pretty obvious that becky also deals with her frustration by fighting in that battle. like, yes, realistically it's just objectively bad that he's destroying buildings. but they're also providing each other with a way to work through their frustrations, first by fighting and then by talking things out, and finally by hanging out together instead of dwelling on being excluded from the party.

so it makes a lot of sense to me that many tobecky fans gravitated towards writing far-in-the-future fic, usually by implying that some growth had taken place before starting to write the ship. (there are, as far as i'm aware, 2... maybe 3 exceptions, that take the time to attempt a real redemption for him, at least when i left the fandom.) because if you take away his worst moments, either by reasoning out that he was 10 years old and a mess, or that he was a cartoon character in a cartoon world where everyone's actions are over-the-top, or by just flat-out pretending that certain episodes never happened, there's some pretty solid ground to start a ship on.

go gadget go: we all do not see it, we simply close our eyes (review of canon)

when the show began, i was the same age as the characters. a lot of other people were, too - at least in my cohort of the fandom. i think it's pretty safe to say that many of us have fond memories of the show's earlier seasons, and held on to that interest as we got older, for whatever reasons. so like, not to be all 'as an OG fan...', but i remember seeing the shorts air for the first time in 2006. i have a diary entry in july of 2009 about how i, a 12yo with no concept of the idea of 'shipping', was disappointed in the new tobey episode because i wanted more tobecky interactions. (that was robo-camping, btw, lol.) and so i remember how exciting their rivalry felt, watching them as someone literally their exact same age, and then watching that again as a nostalgic 17yo, and then uh... growing up, to put it frankly, and realizing just how unhealthy most of their interactions were.

okay what i meant to say was, this section is an overview of the relationship's canon portrayal throughout the years.

first, we have early tobecky: this includes the shorts and the first few seasons. this is their classic relationship: he likes her and takes robots on rampages to get her attention, she majorly disapproves and has fun taking him down. we've all seen the show, you know what i'm talking about. his backhanded ways of trying to find out her identity often feature prominently in the episodes, which - sigh, i've mentioned this whole issue before, but it's kind of a grey area in the whole uncomfortable-factor thing, because while trying to find out her identity is VERY invasive, it's something that like... everyone in the show tries to do, even her canon crush (scoops). on the one hand, it's really not a great look, but on the other hand, this is a cartoon meant to parody a genre in which this trope is extremely common. so i just wanna say that i have Issues and Thoughts on this aspect of their relationship, but there are other things i find more important to discuss here.

second, we have late tobecky: this is seasons 7-8. this is... a very strange and huge shift from the previous dynamic, though it's not necessarily obvious. what i mean by that is that for some reason, the show writers made it so that half of tobey’s rampages have nothing to do with his crush on wordgirl, even though that used to be the sole reason for his villainy. seriously. we have the birthday episode, where he's upset because he feels left out; wg vs tobey vs the dentist, where he's mad that he has a cavity; and trustworthy tobey, where his robot goes on a rampage... after becky accidentally makes it malfunction. the two outliers are ‘guess who’s coming to thanksgiving dinner’ and ‘patch game’, but they still differ from previous seasons because 1) his destruction is isolated to a forest far away from the city, and 2) his motive is still to impress wordgirl, but his methods are relatively tame. also he completely gives up on the secret identity thing??? i may have missed some things but i think he straight up tells her 'yeah there's no way you're wordgirl, lol' and the subject is just dropped for the rest of the show.

i also want to include 'the robot problem' here, because it's one of two season 6 tobey episodes, and follows the 'doesn't destroy buildings to get her attention' pattern: in fact, he teams up with her to try and stop someone else from going on a rampage (even if his reasons are selfish, lol).

and finally. the other season 6 episode. we have go gadget go, the bane of my time spent in the fandom. because GGG is the single episode where tobey truly manages to take away her autonomy, and proceeds to abuse that power for an extended period of time, for his own amusement. it's bad. it's Very Bad. put in the context that it's a white boy doing this to an (ambiguously) brown girl, it's REALLY REALLY BAD. and the more i look back on it, tbh, the more weirded out i am that the show not only made it seem like she wasn't affected at all within the episode, it just... forgot about it (which is not unusual for shows and especially children’s shows, but WG does make some efforts to either retain continuity or create canon reasons for why things are forgotten about). it's the kind of thing that you can't excuse and honestly you can't redeem (like at this point, you gotta ask yourself why you're spending so much effort trying to redeem this guy when becky has several other possible ships that are nowhere near this unhealthy - violet, scoops, honestly even victoria if you want another hero/villain ship, my absolute fave rarepair rose, etc).

so if you want to still ship it you have to just pretend that it never happened. (i remember trying for weeks to write something exploring the aftermath of this episode, to try and make myself feel better about it, but the more i wrote the more i realized just how traumatic this event should've been, so i eventually just dropped it.) and i brought up my own timeline of experiences earlier to point out that this episode aired eight whole years after the show started. which means that when i saw it, even though i was a huge stickler for canon at the time, i'd built up my own idea of the show and characters strongly enough to go 'yeah, no, this episode sucks and i am going to pretend that it doesn't exist'. and i think a lot of other people did too, because i really saw like... no one mention it, ever, except for some rogue fanfics over on ff dot net that already liked dynamics like that.

because here's the thing, and i don't know if people nowadays are aware of it? but i'm 80% sure (cannot find a source, so the other 20% is that it was just a rumor) that the show was originally supposed to end after season 6. and even if it's a rumor, it makes a ton of sense, because we get 1) an 'ending' to tobecky, which is a bad one, 2) a permanent wordgirl identity reveal that significantly changes one of the major dynamics in the show, 3) an episode where TJ gets to work with wordgirl and get a nice potential ending for their sibling dynamic, 4) an episode where we see Two-Brains explore life without his henchmen... the list goes on, and idk how many of these are just major stretches. but the point is. if the show had ended there, that would've been a pretty solid ending for many things, including their relationship: aka, it would prove that it was only ever heading somewhere bad, and when tobey finally has his moment of triumph, he is truly evil about it. and this provides us fans who HATE go gadget go with an easy reason to dismiss it - we can say that it was an attempt to conclude things in a way that wouldn't have happened if the writers had known they'd get more time. but despite that... it is still a canon episode.

it is odd to me how dramatically the dynamic shifts after that, though, because we seriously go from 'worst case ever, tobecky is toxic, your ship is dead' to 'no actually they get along and hang out and get ice cream together and tobey isn't even pressuring her into it, she's happy to go along with it :)' like, immediately. i never knew much about the show writers, so i don't know if the writers changed in between these seasons, but i would absolutely not be surprised if they did.

the earlier episodes are definitely problematic as well (though they pale in comparison to GGG) but i think everyone who ships it is aware considering that tobey is, yknow, a villain. from memory, he destroys buildings to get her attention, lies to her about the level of danger that people are in to trick her into spending more time with him, blackmails her into reading his poetry, and he creates a robot based on her that’s supposed to be devoted to him (but of course, all of these things backfire). not great stuff of course, but like... he’s a villain, that’s the point of his character. and considering that he’s a child these are things that can be redeemed, if done thoughtfully.

anyway, to sum up this section, the show starts off with a pretty standard 'enemies with an unrequited crush' setup, takes a really dark turn for a single episode, and then for the rest of the show takes their dynamic in a direction that makes it much, much easier to ship. as long as you ignore a lot of previous content.

wordbot: where's becky's autonomy in all of this? (misogyny)

we've finally gotten to the fandom. i recognize that a lot of this is going to come across as hypocritical considering how active i used to be re: this ship, but like... i'm a very different person now. anyway. disclaimer i guess - i don't write this to accuse all tobecky shippers of being like this - i know a lot of us aren't/weren't! but boy do i have things to point out, so without further ado:

it is very hard to ship this without allowing some bit of misogyny to slip into it. very, very hard. the entire premise of the ship involves a girl falling in love with a boy that repeatedly pressures her to date him via threats to the safety of herself and people she cares about, which... it's 2020, i shouldn't have to explain why that's terrible & a terrible example to set for children (which is why i am glad they never made it canon, tbh). best-case fan content has tobey stop pressuring her and start working to redeem himself out of an actual change of heart, which leads to becky seeing him in a new light. worst-case fan content treats his incessant pressuring and sometimes outright threats as something romantic - and even worse, romantic to the point where he deserves her attention and love as a reward for not giving up or whatever. i did see this pretty frequently for a while, especially in the earlier 2010s (didn't read much, Not My Thing At All), but i don't feel like going into detail here because of how obviously problematic it is. one medium (but still bad) case is where the fan content makes him start his redemption, but treats her liking him back as a reward for not knocking buildings over anymore. another not great case is where she tries to fix him with her love, which is a very common and very dangerous romantic trope. both are just... so incredibly unfair to her.

in content where she tries to 'fix him'... yeah i feel like it's really obvious how misogynistic that is. girls and women should not feel responsible for the evil actions of men, plain and simple. idk what else to say here i just really hate that trope and hated it back then and it just sucks! so can we not do that anymore, thanks.

in content that treats her like a reward for good behavior, there really isn't much of an explanation for what she sees in him. if she just goes 'oh wow, you're good now, i am going to fall in love with you for it' the whole thing falls flat because it makes NO sense whatsoever. we get to hear so much about tobey and his feelings and why he likes her and how he feels about it, but where is that energy for becky? why does she choose to trust him, to spend time around him, what does she enjoy about his presence? where is her getting over scoops in the process of falling for tobey? where is her telling her friends about this, confiding in them, asking them for advice? where is her choice in the matter?

win a day with wordgirl: do you guys even like becky or do you just like the idea of her (misogyny... 2!)

it was pretty standard for all fandoms the early-mid 2010s, but that's still not a good excuse for why so many tobecky fanfictions centered specifically around tobey's feelings while refusing to give becky the same level of empathy and nuance. it is true that to ship them comfortably you have to redeem him to some degree, which means spending time figuring him out and trying to find ways to pull him to the light without feeling super OOC. but ships take two people??? and there was so much potential for fanfics to explore becky's complex feelings on the matter - because she is! complex! she's heroic and kind but she's petty and has a competitive streak, she easily befriends villains but also doesn't trust them and doesn't believe they can ever really change, she's the savior of an entire planet but has feelings of inadequacy as her civilian identity and struggles with feeling like she can be successful without superpowers, she's great at the straightforward meanings and uses of words and loves reading but struggles to write passages that aren't dry as hell, it can be easily headcannoned that she's neurodivergent (special interests, issues with fitting in with her peers, taking things very literally, etc)... seriously there is SO MUCH to explore about her character, and a lot of it comes into play when you add tobey into the mix (literally ALL of the things i mentioned are explored at some point using tobey as a parallel or foil), but i rarely saw fanfiction that explored her thoughts on things further than 'he's evil but... maybe good?' or 'he's evil but... i kind of like him anyway?'.

if you want her to fall for him while being a villain, explore it!! why does she go against her morals? does she lie to herself about it to feel better? does she feel like she has to 'fix him' as part of her superhero duties to the city, and if so, how does that affect her as she tries and fails to help him? does she fall for him when she believes that he's turning good, only to feel betrayed when he starts acting worse because he feels like he can get away with it? it's such a shame that fanworks spend so little time even considering these questions, and it is absolutely a product of how deeply misogyny is/was baked into how we approach media (especially back then).

tobey goes good: but wait, i thought this show was progressive (a conclusion, i guess)

ifbrd wrote a great meta recently about how the show is a bit misogynist, despite being progressive in several ways. honestly i don't have much to add, but i'd really recommend reading through this; it makes a lot of great observations about the ways that male and female characters are presented differently through the show

i have little to add, so i'd just like to conclude with a reflection on the ship from my current viewpoint. i do think part of the reason so many of us latched onto the ship, despite how obviously problematic it was, is that the show treats a lot of things that would be serious in real life as normal or even comedic - which is fine lol, i'm not going to pretend that it's not a show for little kids, so they have to keep the tone light.

but if we, as teens/adults, decide to engage with this content in a more realistic manner, we have to be prepared to confront how messed up so many of the things going on really are. and if you still want to ship it, there's nothing inherently wrong with that! there's a lot of interesting things to explore in this ship, no matter what stage of enemies-to-friends-to-lovers you write them at, and it can be really helpful to have a space where you can explore a dynamic such as this in fiction. (speaking from experience here tbh, writing some fic for them helped me deal with complicated feelings about some ex-longtime friends.)

so to write this ship at all means that there are canon issues that you need to deal with if you want to have them end up in a healthy relationship in any manner that makes sense (unless you create an AU where none of that is applicable, which, power to you then). and i’m not saying ‘write them with a healthy endgame or you’re Bad’, not at all lol. but at least please, please take a step back once in a while to examine the dynamic that you’re writing, and please be careful about whether you mean to be romanticizing whatever behaviors you end up portraying as good.

#wordgirl #becky botsford #tobey mccallister #tobecky #tobecky critical #has anyone ever used that tag before LMAO #anyway: i may come back and reword the ending because i am not totally happy with it #but wow this is so many words. so many. send help

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standbydelena · 5 years ago

Text

And Dream, I Do

Pairing: Damon/Elena, it’s not like I write any other pairings.

Rating: definitely M.

Timeline: seasons 1-3

Word count: 6722 words.

Summary: Elena is sure Damon compelled her to have that first dream when he was suddenly in Stefan's place in her bed. But she has no one to blame for all the other dreams after that, her subconscious telling her something she may not be telling herself yet.

Title from Taking Over Me by Evanescence.

Read on FF net | Download pdf

The first dream about Damon isn’t even about him in the first place.

She has a crush on Stefan (maybe she’s even in love), so in her mind, she wants Stefan. She acknowledges Damon is handsome, attractive, maybe even hot, but he’s not the one she wants. For Elena, it’s all about the emotional connection, and she’s sure of her connection with Stefan that established so quickly and effortlessly. In her dream, she’s bold and excited. She grabs Stefan’s T-shirt, straddling him, and pulls it over his head. When Damon’s smirking face appears instead, she recoils, terrified, and wakes up.

She’s confused, almost scared and — if she absolutely has to admit it — just the tiniest bit curious.

Later, when she finds out about vampires and compulsion, she’s sure he compelled her to dream about him. Clutching her vervain necklace, she convinces herself it will never happen again.

=====================

She dreams about him for the second time right after they come back from Georgia.

She closes her eyes and before she knows it, he’s there, in her room, his smirk and swag gone, those captivating eyes studying her with intensity she can’t deal with.

“Can I trust you?” she asks. He doesn’t flinch.

“Do you?” he counters, and she doesn’t know what to tell him. He’s saved her life; she’s saved his life. She doesn’t know if it means that she trusts him. She wants to trust him, though.

Damon takes her hand and brings it to his lips. His light kisses trail up her arm, scorching her skin, while his hands caress it, making her breathing erratic. She shivers — in fear or anticipation, she doesn’t know — but the moment he (finally) reaches her neck, he’s gone, and she gasps, awake.

=====================

The third dream happens only because she’s sorry for him.

She goes to bed with Damon’s broken, devastated face behind her closed eyelids. Her heart clenches in pain at the thought that Katherine tricked him like that, and she can’t even imagine how much he must be hurting. Always the do-gooder, Elena wants to soothe him somehow. Anyhow.

Soon after she falls asleep, she finds him on her windowsill, staring at the floor. She approaches him, her movements guarded, like he’s a wild, possibly dangerous animal. She strokes his cheek, forcing him to look at her.

“Katherine?” he asks, his eyes full of hope, and it hurts.

For a moment she actually considers saying yes.

“No, it’s Elena.” She expects his face to fall, but it doesn’t. Something shifts in his eyes, but she’s not sure what it is.

“Come here,” he begs, and she lets him take her in his arms, his hold too tight, and doesn’t even mind it when he starts planting kisses on her neck, then lets them trail lower, as far as her cleavage allows. She closes her eyes, stroking his hair, and gasps when he traces the tops of her breasts with his tongue.

“I am not Katherine,” she reminds him.

The last thing she remembers from the dream is his face. He looks like her assumption hurt him.

=====================

The fourth dream isn’t exactly unexpected. Not after the way he looked at her earlier, when his palms felt better on her bare skin than the silk dress she wore and his eyes had something brand new to them, something she couldn’t quite decipher yet — or maybe didn’t want to try to — but it made her heart skip a beat and her breath hitch.

This time, when he shows up in her bedroom, he’s strangely vulnerable. She isn’t sure she’s ever seen him like that. So when he reaches out for her, she tells herself it’s just a dream and doesn’t mean anything. “It’s not wrong,” she says — to him or to herself, she doesn’t know. She repeats it between the kisses, because this time she lets him kiss her. His hands slip over her top, caressing her breasts, and she arches into him. She bites her lip so as not to whisper his name as his hands slide down her belly, making her skin tingle. It feels wonderful, and she doesn’t think such a simple touch has ever turned her on like this. That’s what stops her in the first place.

“No, it’s wrong!” she whimpers and wakes up in her bed in the boarding house. Alone.

Part of her wishes he were there.

=====================

The fifth dream follows soon, and she kind of expects it. It’s normal, she tells herself. According to Cosmo, people in healthy relationships have erotic dreams about other people all the time, there’s nothing wrong with it.

She loses her train of thought when Damon takes off her top, his palms flattening against her breasts for a moment before he traces the contours with his fingers and moves closer to pull one achingly hard nipple into his mouth. She bites her lip to be quiet, but she’s not sure she can, because his lips feel so wonderful on her skin that she feels like she’ll pass out there and then.

She doesn’t have enough presence of mind when his thumbs hook in her underwear, and she rolls her hips impatiently, encouraging him to take it off, but he seems to change his mind at the last moment. He strokes her through the lace, making her shudder, before he kisses his way from her breasts up to her neck and smirks as she pulls him into a kiss — first.

“Why don’t we leave you wondering?”

She wants to slap that smirk off his face (to kiss it off), but he’s already gone, and she’s alone in her bed, desperately wanting more.

=====================

The sixth, seventh and eighth dreams aren’t a surprise. She finds herself looking forward to them, in a way, almost anxious to see how he will surprise her. Deep down, she’s vaguely aware that it’s nothing but her own imagination, her fantasy about something new (exciting, passionate, she adds when she’s being completely honest with herself), but she likes to think of dream!Damon as of somebody who acts entirely on his own will. That way, when she lets him torture her with slow, reverent touches and fierce kisses, she can pretend he’s the only one to blame.

He kisses her inner thighs with tenderness that she would never expect from him. He doesn’t push her to do anything else — yet. Elena knows one day he’ll want to go further, just as well as she knows she’ll let him do whatever he wants.

Stefan has never gone down on her. When she suggested trying something different for the first time, he sighed heavily and gave her a lecture in his eternally apologetic voice, explaining that he wouldn’t be able to control himself anywhere near her femoral artery, nor if she wanted to return the favor. Somewhat humbled, Elena never asked again.

She googles what erotic dreams about a friend are supposed to mean, and it says she probably wants a deeper emotional connection with him. She scoffs, because their understanding seems stronger than ever, and yet with each dream the urge to give in gets more and more unbearable. In reality, it’s getting complicated, too. His looks, her dreams, the way he always lingers a moment too long when he touches her, Isobel’s words still ringing in her ears — they all push her to start the embarrassing don’t-forget-we-are-just-friends talk, and when he uses his trademark eye thing against her, she’s already sure she’s going to have the ninth dream tonight.

=====================

The dreams stop after he does the unforgivable.

She can’t stand to see him right now. He can lash out all he wants, but not like this, she thinks, the awful scene with her brother’s lifeless body playing on repeat in her mind. She wants to hate him, tries to, but hates herself instead, because even after what he’s done, she feels sorry for him and can’t let him die.

She starts taking pills before she goes to bed — anything that would ensure he won’t be waiting for her the moment she closes her eyes.

=====================

The dreams come back when she least expects them.

She’s just been kidnapped, she’s tired and confused, and the only thing she wants is sleep. She doesn’t take her sleep med, certain that she doesn’t need it anymore, and it turns out a big mistake.

Because Damon’s there, in her dream, like he never left and was just waiting for a moment when she would be ready to let him back in.

His eyes render her speechless with the sheer emotion she can see in them. It’s nothing but a dream, and she can indulge in studying them, registering everything they reflect — vulnerability, trust, care, hope, lust, love.

She expects him to greet her with a kiss, but his lips touch her forehead instead, and for some reason it makes her want to cry. She winds her arms around his neck, giving him the hug he was denied earlier today.

She doesn’t remember anything else from her tenth dream.

=====================

The next few nights, the dreams are so many that she’s losing count.

They’re not all erotic. Sure, in some of them, his lips and fingers burn her entire body except for where she wants them most (Elena wonders if it’s her subconscious guarding her from giving in too much). In others, though, he just holds her, or cups her face, or caresses her cheek. Those she finds especially strange, but she doesn’t let herself dwell. She has a life, and what Damon does in her dreams is none of her concern.

What he does in real life is none of her concern, either, she thinks after running into a bathrobe-clad Rose in the boarding house. She feels her stomach churn, probably because Rose just kidnapped her, and she’s still hostile. That must be it.

Worse, Rose refused to keep her secret and called Damon when she tried to turn herself over, like they were a couple of babysitters looking after a disobedient child. Elena is mad at both of them — for thwarting her plan, for getting Stefan trapped in the tomb — but mostly, she’s mad at herself. Because she didn’t think it through. And, more importantly, because when Damon caught her hand mid-punch and looked at her, his gaze heavy and dangerous, part of her desperately wanted him to kiss her.

Stupid dreams.

At night, the Damon from her dream is wearing an annoying just-got-laid smirk. It makes her think of Rose, and she slaps him, hoping he’ll get mad. Her palm burns, but she raises her hand to strike again — of course, he catches it and yanks her to him, his eyes blazing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he says in that low, dangerous voice that makes her melt with desire. She struggles just to annoy him, just like she struggled in the tomb today, and he covers her mouth with his the minute she opens it to say something. There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, not a trace of tenderness or care — he possesses, demands and takes. She wraps one leg around his waist, and he pulls her impossibly closer, making her whimper. She feels them move, and then his weight is pressing her into the mattress.

His hand slips between them to trace teasing circles on her belly where it’s revealed between her cami and shorts. His fingers inch lower, into her shorts, stroking the sensitive skin there, and she breaks the kiss, gasping. “Damon, you-”

When his finger dips inside her, she forgets how to speak. She looks into his eyes as he strokes her, teases her, makes her hips buck, meeting him. He adds another finger, and she bites her lip to keep from screaming. This feels so wonderfully, amazingly, incredibly g-

And he stops.

“Damon,” she says, panting, and he lifts his head from her neckline. “Don’t be a tease.”

He smiles and curls his fingers inside her, flicking her clit with his thumb. She arches her back as her whole body trembles. He does it again, and again, and again, and kisses her just in time to muffle her scream.

When Elena wakes up, her body buzzes happily, and she has no energy to be mad at herself. She can feel guilty and uncomfortable tomorrow. Now, she just wants to sleep.

=====================

Sure enough, the guilt does come, exacerbated by the lack of said guilt the night before.

She tries the sleep meds again because only a despicable person could have such dreams about her boyfriend’s brother while said boyfriend is trapped with his psychotic ex. Or keep having them even after the boyfriend is free and back with her.

Sometimes, the meds help. Other times, she still wakes up remembering the dreams with perfect clarity, every tiny little detail burnt into her mind. The look in his eyes when he undresses her. The way his lips feel against hers. The way her body seems to relax under his weight.

Which makes it all the stranger how strong their friendship seems to be in reality. How she knows without any doubt that if she falls, Damon will be there to catch her.

She loves Stefan. Of course, she does. He’s always on her side. Always ready to do things her way. That’s the kind of love she understands, the kind that doesn’t scare her like Damon’s. The elder Salvatore is like a tidal wave, all-encompassing, powerful and potentially destructive. She’s scared of what lengths she might be ready to go to when it comes to forgiving that destruction.

When he makes her believe Bonnie’s dead, for a moment Elena believes she won’t forgive that, only to do it minutes later. His eyes burn her, and his bed is two feet away, and she runs away, not trusting herself so close to him.

She desperately needs some boundaries, now, and Damon gives her a chance all too soon. She understands why he fed her his blood so well she may as well actually read his mind, but she tells him she needs time. He can’t think that she’ll be there no matter what he does.

Of course, her new resolution falls apart when she finds out Damon is dying.

She kisses him because she wants to grant him what he surely wishes for, but also because she owes it to them and to what could have been. When Katherine shows up with the cure, she almost cries with relief.

Damon is gentlemanly enough to act like nothing happened once he feels better. He vows to save Stefan, no matter how hard it is. He doesn’t mention the kiss even though she can see it in his eyes that he wants to.

Elena doesn’t mention it, either. She can’t, not when his brother, her boyfriend is out there sacrificing himself.

But at night, when she sees Damon in her dream again, she runs to him across the room — his room, she notices belatedly — and kisses him so fiercely he stumbles backwards. He kisses her back with just as much passion, and this time she’s the one who pushes him to the mattress, she’s the one who undresses him and plants kisses all over his body, she’s the one who pulls off all of her clothes and covers his body with hers, capturing his lips again.

It’s just a dream, she reminds herself. It’s harmless. For a moment, she’s allowed to indulge in this fantasy where Damon feels perfect inside her, and his lips and fingers all but make her lose her mind.

She wakes up tired and satisfied, unconvincingly telling herself she doesn’t have to feel guilty.

=====================

Not all her dreams are about Damon, of course. She does have some — sometimes good, sometimes nightmares — about finding Stefan. Some are memories from her childhood. Some are so random and vague that she hardly remembers them in the morning. But it’s dreams about Damon that keep her up at night at least once a week, causing her to guzzle coffee in vampire amounts the following day.

While she can definitely explain the occasional sex dreams (she does have eyes), she still can’t explain the ones where she just sits next to him on the couch, her head on his shoulder, his arm holding her close, and doesn’t want to go anywhere.

“We’ll find him,” says Damon, shaking her out of her reverie. She realizes she spaced out in the middle of lunch. Over the month that’s passed since Damon almost died, lunch together has become a sort of tradition for them.

Elena flushes because it wasn’t Stefan she was thinking about, and it should’ve been. Trying to recover, she manages a quiet “I know,” hoping he won’t say anything.

“You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

Elena is immediately mortified.

“What? Why?”

“No offense, but have you seen the circles under your eyes?” He does this eye thing, but then his voice becomes concerned. “Seriously, though. Are you okay?”

His voice is devoid of the eternal mocking, and it encourages Elena. She can tell him only about the less racy dreams. Or about none at all. She’ll find a way to avoid the uncomfortable parts of the conversation.

“Vampires can compel people to have certain dreams, right?”

Damon raises his eyebrows.

“Yes, vampires can do that, if the person isn’t wearing vervain and hasn’t ingested any. Actually, vampires can give dreams to other vampires, too, depending on some circumstances. It’s kiddie stuff, a lot easier than actual compulsion.”

Elena sighs, and Damon narrows his eyes, looking at her inquisitively. “I figure that’s not morbid curiosity?”

She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “Have you ever done that to me?”

His eyebrows go even higher than before. “Me? To you?” He looks away thoughtfully for a moment. “Yeah. Once. Back when you started dating Stefan, you were having some kind of hot dream about him, and I put myself in your dream instead. You freaked out and woke up.”

She looks away, shaking her head, and Damon takes her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Hey, I’m sorry. I was an idiot. I just wanted to mess with the two of you. Are you mad?”

Elena scoffs. “I’m not. It was almost a year ago. Everything was different.”

Maybe not that different, given she is still dating Stefan, technically, and has no business fantasizing about her boyfriend’s brother. But it felt important to say that.

“What’s bothering you then?” he asks, doing that thing where he narrows eyes, compelling her — not literally, though — to be honest with him.

She deflects. “What else can you guys do?”

Damon looks at her intently, clearly curious why the twenty questions.

“With dreams? Well, if somebody isn’t on vervain, or this somebody is a fellow vampire, we can sometimes put ourselves into their dreams that are already happening. Say, if you were off vervain and were having a dream about me — or about somebody else, actually, me already being there would just make it easier — I could sort of… inhabit the character, so to speak.”

Elena is pretty sure that her face is burning up, and Damon notices, of course.

“Have you done that to me?” she asks quickly before he says anything else.

“Just that one time that I told you about, although I’m starting to think I should’ve done it more,” he says with a head tilt, studying her expression. Elena can’t blame him. So much for her plan to avoid uncomfortable parts of the conversation. “Elena, I wouldn’t do that. It would be a massive violation of privacy, and I know I haven’t exactly been known to care about things like that, but I wouldn’t do that to you — not without permission. And, if it helps, you’re on vervain almost all the time, as far as I remember.”

“I didn’t mean to sound like I’m accusing you of something. I’m just curious.” She tries to feign lightheartedness now, half-smiling, silently begging Damon to play along. He does.

“Happy to be your walking compulsion encyclopedia,” he smirks seductively, and Elena feels warm and tense inside.

“Okay, I’ll go home and read.” She gets up and puts her plate in the sink. “Thanks for the lunch, Damon.”

“You’re welcome.”

She’s almost out of the boarding house when he flashes in front of her. It’s a testimony to how much time she’s been spending with him that it doesn’t even faze her.

“If you ever do want me to dream walk, all you have to do is ask.”

She tries very hard to look away from his lips.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, her throat dry. She gets past him to the doorway (has this hallway always been so narrow?) and rushes to her car.

She has basically just admitted to Damon that she’s had dreams that involve him enough that she suspects him of being responsible. Wonderful.

=====================

Shockingly enough, Damon doesn’t use her not-quite-confession against her. He’s the imperfect gentleman throughout the rest of their mission-driven summer. They still have lunch together every day, unless he’s following up on a lead, and he lends her books, and she calls him first thing in the morning. She doesn’t know if it’s the shared pain of Stefan’s absence or the sincere moments they had when he was facing an almost certain death that brought them closer, but Damon is the biggest part of her new normal.

The flirty smirks and inappropriate comments are still there, of course, but then again, she wouldn’t expect him to be tame.

Dream!Damon is anything but tame. With how close they are in reality, Elena feels a new kind of guilt over dreaming about him. She loves Stefan. It’s bad enough that she hangs out with his brother all the time, and sometimes even flirts back, which Stefan definitely wouldn’t be happy about. She shouldn’t indulge in her nighttime indiscretions, even if they are only happening in her mind.

When Damon appears in her dream a few days after their conversation, she musters the will power to push him away.

“Don’t,” she begs, even as her hands are already trailing up and down his chest. “We can’t. It’s not right.”

“It’s your call, Elena,” he says with breathtaking kindness in his eyes. “It’s always been your call.”

She kisses him lightly, barely a touch.

“I know.” She sits down on the couch in the parlor, where she finds them this time, and holds out her hand. “Will you just hold me?”

He silently joins her on the couch and pulls her into his arms. For now, it’s enough.

=====================

She gets very good at resisting him. She cultivates guilt with something akin to twisted enjoyment, knowing that the guiltier she feels, the easier it will be to remember it at the right moment in her dream, before Damon kisses her. Or before she kisses him back. Or, on rare occasions, after both those things but before they manage to lose all clothes.

=====================

A week before her birthday, Damon disappears.

He has been following another lead, and he was supposed to check in but didn’t. She can’t fall asleep all night, desperately trying to reach him every hour. The call goes straight to voicemail. Ric hasn’t heard from him, either.

She passes out at dawn on the couch in the boarding house, from sheer exhaustion, hoping she will wake up to find him, but he hasn’t magically reappeared, and she is even more scared than before.

By nighttime, two hundred unsuccessful calls later, she has almost made up her mind to take Ric and try to retrace Damon’s steps and find him. And then he suddenly stumbles into the house. His jacket is riddled with holes, and dried blood is caked along his temple, but he’s alive.

He looks like something out of a horror movie. Elena still rushes to him, practically tackling him with a hug.

“Babe, as much as I would normally love this, it hurts,” he rasps, and she jumps away, her skin tingling at his casual endearment.

Elena apologizes and runs to the basement for a blood bag, then watches him drink it as she checks for more injuries. She is so numb with relief at seeing him alive, if a little worse for the wear, that she completely forgets he was supposed to be looking for Stefan until he brings it up first.

That’s when she realizes that, if asked to choose between the way things are now and getting Stefan back at the expense of losing Damon, she wouldn’t necessarily choose the latter.

When Damon is completely fine — she checks — Elena is almost eager to fall asleep, hoping to see him again. Sure enough, she does. It’s become almost too easy to dream about him intentionally.

“God, I was so worried about you. Don’t do that again,” she asks before pulling him into a kiss.

“I’m okay, babe,” he whispers against her lips, and it amuses her that dream!Damon seems to be borrowing new vocabulary from his real-life counterpart.

“You’re okay,” she repeats happily, kissing him ferociously. He matches her stroke for stroke, and suddenly they are naked in bed, Elena on top, which gives her another opportunity to study his perfectly healed chest. She bends down to kiss it.

“You’re okay,” she repeats between kisses, gradually trailing lower. “You’re okay.”

She needs to feel that he is okay, and it’s been entirely too long since she’s indulged in a dream like that, so for one night, she lets go of the guilt and just lets herself be with him as much as she wants.

=====================

Her birthday is a rollercoaster of emotions, and by the time she goes to bed, she hopes she’s exhausted enough to fall into a deep, exhausted slumber immediately. Instead, her thoughts keep going over this insane day.

The call from Stefan, the closet, the fight with Damon, Ric’s abrupt decision to move out, Damon’s stupid naked stunt (which she isn’t forgetting anytime soon).

And that brief monumental moment when Damon gave her the necklace, and she was overwhelmed by love for him so strong it almost took her breath away.

She knows very well why she didn’t tell him. Because she still loves Stefan, she does. It wouldn’t be fair to open that door with Damon when she hasn’t closed the other one.

Would it?

“I do love you, you know,” she tells him in her dream that night. The dream is as weird as messy as her world has become, and Damon seems unbearably close one moment, naked and smirking, and then the next moment he’s far away, and she doesn’t know how to reach him, and it’s all a blur. She says it anyway, because she has to say it, and finds them in Stefan’s room at the boarding house, looking in the mirror, her skin tingling where he’s just touched the clasp of her necklace.

“I know,” he says, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. “Do you?”

=====================

She needs to pull herself together again after this, because she feels like she’s treading dangerously close to some lines in reality, so she doesn’t need the dreams further complicating things. She resumes the sleeping pills, and more often than not, they help her forget her fleeting dreams the moment she opens her eyes.

“You know you were dreaming about me. Explains the drool,” he quips in a few days, waking her up at six in the morning to go track down Stefan in Chicago. It’s entirely possible — she can’t be sure because of the pills — but he doesn’t need to know that. So, she huffs and acts indignant about his unorthodox method of waking her up and is very, very grateful when he doesn’t bring it up anymore.

She skips the pill the night after he presses her to his body, whispering something completely irrelevant about vampire anatomy and bringing up Stefan just in time to stop her from kissing him.

She needs at least that dream, or she’ll explode.

=====================

She doesn’t dream about Damon the night she lets him stay in her bed. It’s good because, if she had one of those dreams, she would never hear the end of it. But she suspects that it’s because she’s completely content with their closeness as she drifts off, because she doesn’t need to add anything to this moment.

Waking up, she finds herself practically lying on top of him and fights the urge to kiss the triangle of skin revealed by his shirt.

“Morning,” he rumbles, his hand lightly tracing circles on her back. Elena knows she should probably pull away, but she can’t bring herself to ruin the moment. It feels too good, like it did in one of her dreams, and just like with the dreams, she tells herself that it’s okay. They are in for a very long, hard day when a lot of things can go wrong. She deserves this little indulgence.

“Hi,” she breathes. “Sorry, I’m squishing you.”

“Mmhm, all ninety pounds of you are just unbearable,” he chuckles. Elena smiles in response, and neither of them further comments on this admittedly uncharted territory.

They are quiet for a long, long while (ten minutes? Twenty? An hour?) before Damon sighs.

“I’m going to hate myself forever for saying this, but I think we should get up. We have a lot of work today.”

“No, you’re right,” Elena reluctantly pulls away from him and summons the courage to look into his eyes. They are just as open and hopeful as she expected. “Thanks for staying with me,” she adds, putting her hand on his arm for a moment before getting up. He holds her gaze.

“Thanks for letting me.”

When her heart almost breaks at the thought of going to the bathroom and probably coming back to find Damon already gone, she finally knows what she needs to do.

=====================

She doesn’t dream about Damon the next night, either, because she spends the night in his bed.

Not that way, even though there’s a growing part of her that wouldn’t mind. She doesn’t want to be alone, and more importantly, doesn’t want him to be alone after their plan to kill Klaus ends in a spectacular failure. So, she shows up in his room with a blanket. He asks the question with just his eyebrows, and she replies, “Do you mind?” He says “sure,” with the same kind half-smile as yesterday. She lies down and looks at him for a long moment before finally closing her eyes.

=====================

When he kisses her, part of her is surprised that he has crossed this line, but mostly she realizes it was inevitable. This something (that she could easily name if she let herself) couldn’t just dissipate. It had to explode into something sooner or later.

He’s shared his guilt with her, so it’s only fair that she should share some of hers with him.

Before she goes to bed, she takes her phone and sends him a message.

If you want to dream walk, you can. You have my permission.

=====================

The dream doesn’t feel any different from the previous ones. She finds herself in Damon’s room, on the bed, alone, but just a minute later, he emerges from the shower, wearing nothing but a towel, and sits down next to her.

“Is this… you?” she asks, and he frowns in confusion.

“What?”

So Damon hasn’t received her message, or maybe he decided he’d rather not do that. Elena is disappointed and relieved at once, so when dream!Damon reaches out to her, she responds to his kiss, pulling him closer, reveling in the feeling of his lips against hers that she doesn’t have to imagine anymore. Her hands slide up his chest, over his shoulders, down his back, eager to touch him as much as she can.

The change is immediate and palpable.

Suddenly, she somehow knows she’s now kissing Damon, the real one, but she cannot stop. He doesn’t seem to be interested in stopping, either, hauling her closer in a swift possessive move, not typical of the usually careful Damon from her dreams. In a moment, Elena finds herself pressed against the wall, his mouth ravaging hers with so much passion that she couldn’t imagine it if she tried.

A few long, heady moments later he pulls back, panting as he eyes her. Elena feels naked under his gaze, double-checking that she isn’t actually magically naked by now.

“Well, this is an interesting development,” he says breathlessly. “Is this why you texted me? For a pretend booty call?”

“Why are you being like this?” she asks, taken aback. She didn’t expect him to be difficult or angry. She actually wanted to talk to him, to try to put her feelings into words in the safe space of her subconscious.

“Because if you wanted to do this,” he gestures at the space between them, “you could’ve come to me. Actually come to me. It doesn’t work the way you think. What happens here counts. You don’t get to magically walk away and pretend this didn’t happen when you wake up.”

Except she’s been telling herself it doesn’t count for over a year.

“This is not what I was doing,” she says, still a little breathless herself. “I just wanted to talk to you, and I thought it might be easier this way. In a dream.”

Some of his anger subsides, and that encourages her to go on. “Can we start this conversation over? Please?”

“Fine,” says Damon curtly, and suddenly, Elena finds herself on a couch in the parlor, with Damon standing next to his collection of alcohol, dressed in his favorite all black, pouring himself a generous glass of bourbon.

“I’m listening,” he says, sitting down next to her. She takes his tumbler and takes a sip, couching as the strong liquor burns her throat. Damon chuckles. “Easy there.”

All words that she meant to say have pretty much escaped her, but bourbon gives her a little extra courage that she needs.

“Thank you,” she says, putting her hand on his arm. “I said it today, but I need to say it again. I wouldn’t be here without you. None of us would be.”

“You’re welcome,” he says with a small smile. She takes his hand in both of hers, cradling it between her palms.

“I know you love me. I feel it every day that I am with you, even if it’s easier to act like I don’t.” She feels tears burning her eyes but refuses to give in to them. She has to say it. “And I don’t want you to think that I don’t notice… or that I don’t feel something, too.”

Damon is inhumanly still, his face devoid of any expression. She takes a deep breath and goes on. “I do remember the things I felt while he was gone,” she quotes him with a weak smile. “I do, because I still feel them, and I don’t think I can shake them.”

He shifts closer to her, his eyes desperately searching something in hers. “What are you saying?”

“It’s not about what I’m saying, Damon. It’s about what I’m not saying, because how can I? If I say it now, after Stefan has sacrificed his humanity to save you, what does that make me? How can I do that to him?”

Damon sighs and pulls her into a hug.

“That makes two of us,” he whispers against her hair.

“I don’t want to hurt Stefan. I don’t know what to do,” she says, and some tears escape anyway.

“Neither do I.” He pulls back to look her in the eye. “Do you want me to make you forget this conversation? I can do that, Elena. I can make you forget this dream. I can make you forget the kiss if you want. The real one. I can make this easier for you.”

Elena feels like her entire chest is about to explode, because she knows how much it costs him to say these words. This is bigger than giving her the necklace. This is a greater sacrifice than she has ever thought possible. But she could never forgive herself if she agreed. The thought of forgetting a single moment with Damon fills her with dread, and it’s at this moment that her mind is made up.

She shakes her head vigorously.

“Please, don’t,” she says with a sob. “You can’t make me forget everything. Not this whole past year. Not our summer together.” She notices how he’s stopped breathing again, listening to her every word. “Not all the other dreams I had about you.”

His lips part in amazement, but he quickly composes himself, going back to his signature smirk.

“Were they hot?” he quips, and she chuckles through tears, appreciating his attempt at humor to make her feel better.

“Very.” She leans forward to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Damon.”

He looks dejected as he disappears, and it breaks her heart a little. But he was right. As beautiful as these moments have been, her dreams aren’t cutting it. It has to be real.

=====================

She goes to the boarding house first thing in the morning.

All her reservations didn’t magically vanish just because of that dream. She’s still terrified of hurting Stefan. She’s still feeling like a horrible person.

The thing is, she’d much rather be a horrible person with Damon than a somewhat less horrible one without him.

She goes straight to his room once she gets there and, funnily enough, finds him fresh out of the shower.

“Elena?” His eyes are wide in disbelief, as if it’s really all that surprising that she cannot stay away. “What are you doing here?”

“Actually coming to you,” she says and closes the distance between them. It’s just like in her dream, and he responds with just as much passion, but it’s also different, because this time, she is really sliding her hands down his chest, and he is really backing her into the nearest wall to press her against it with his body, and it feels so good and so right that her brain cannot process anything anymore.

He pulls back with what looks like tremendous effort, gently setting her down. His eyes are open and vulnerable the way she has only ever seen on him; the eyes of somebody who has been abandoned and rejected by everyone lifetime after lifetime.

“Elena, what about-” he starts, but she interrupts.

“We’ll figure it out. Together. I want us to figure it out together.”

His lips tremble, and she reaches out, tracing his cheek with a feather-light touch.

“We may not have the answers, but I finally know the answer to the question that you have been asking forever. And the answer is yes. I love you, Damon. I love you so much.”

His lips are back on hers right that instant, and she smiles as he whispers “I love you. I love you. I love you” between the kisses. She doesn’t have to dream about it again, Elena realizes, mesmerized by how intoxicating this feels. She doesn’t have to imagine anything now, because they are here, together, and her heart is bursting with more happiness than she can remember feeling in a long time.

He stops abruptly, leaning his forehead against hers with a sigh.

“This feels completely unimportant right now, but I have to meet Bonnie in the witch house in like ten minutes.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles. “I have to be in school anyway. It’s Caroline’s birthday.”

“I’ll see you later?” He makes it sound like a question, like he still can’t believe that she will actually be here later.

“Absolutely,” she leans in, giving him a quick kiss, and then another one. She can kiss him whenever she wants now, and the thought is exhilarating.

She’s almost out of the door when he calls for her. “Elena?”

“Yeah?” she looks at him over her shoulder.

“Will you tell me about your dreams?”

She looks away, pretending to consider it for a moment, then looks back at him with a coy smile.

“How about I show you?”

#delena #damon x elena #delena shippers club #tvd fanfiction #suttonbradyy #delena fanfiction

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greekgeek21 · 4 years ago

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The Codependency Competition Ch.2

Reminder! This is also on Wattpad, Ao3, FF, and Inkitt. Also, go read Literallyobsessed's story "The Highschool Experiment." This story was inspired by it.

Thanks, JJ (nightskywithrainbows). They are a writer, too, so you should go check out their amazing works on Ao3!

Stay safe and happy reading!

– your author

ΩΩΩ

The next period was Lunch, so Percy and Annabeth were bound to see each other again. Even so, they were on a mission to keep their secret, so they tried avoiding each other's eyes for the beginning of lunch. However, their friends seemed to be on a mission of their own to expose their plan, whether they were aware of it or not.

At Annabeth's table, her friends were discussing her and Percy's little conversation in Greek class. At Goode, word spreads quickly when it involves Percy Jackson.

"Come on, Annabeth! What were you saying to each other?" Nora exclaimed, exasperated.

"It was nothing, and I didn't even really know what I was saying anyway. It was just a bunch of random bonus phrases you can get off the internet, ok?" Annabeth answered, looking down and playing with her food.

Her friend just stared at her with a raised eyebrow, "Annabeth Chase, the know-it-all, didn't know something? I doubt it."

Yeah...maybe playing dumb should be left to Percy. Even Annabeth was having a hard time forcing herself to act like she didn't know what she was saying last period.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter anyways. Just drop it," Annabeth ordered, letting her leader-voice drip in subconsciously.

Her friend looked a little taken aback, but another look from Annabeth silenced any protests.

"I still can't believe you even talked to Percy," Noah said, a look of fake wonder on his face, "I mean, you're just a nobody, and he's Percy Jackson."

Annabeth couldn't resist the urge to roll her eyes. Everyone thinking Percy was some kind of untouchable object was starting to get on her nerves. Sure, at camp, new campers seemed to practically worship them, but here? All they know about him is that he went missing for 8 months, came back different, and is amazing at swimming.

Mortals need to raise their standards on what's to be considered cool, that's for sure, she thought.

At the same time, Percy's friends, Mike, Jack, and Chloe were starting to interrogate their own friend. These three people were Percy's closest mortal friends, mostly because they didn't care about popularity. All they were interested in was Percy, not his status. And it was them that knew he didn't randomly have a full-fledged conversation with a stranger in another language.

"Seriously, what happened? I heard from the grapevine that you and somebody named Annabeth Chase started screaming at each other in Greek and it ended with you both getting suspended. But obviously, that can't be true because you're sitting here with us right now, so...what happened?" Jack asked.

His words seemed to silence everyone at the table, even the fake-friends. All were interested in the true story of what happened, even if it wasn't that big of a thing. Anything involving their popularity producer demanded listening-to. Or something like that.

"We just talked for a second. It wasn't that interesting," Percy tried to answer cryptically.

"But why were you talking to a complete stranger?" Chloe asked, joining-in on the conversation.

"She isn–We just finished our tests at the same time and started a little talk. I honestly can't even remember what was said," Percy said.

That was a lie. Percy remembered every word that was said, especially the end. But his friends didn't need to know that.

"Come on, man! Give us something! I'm starving for a rumor!" Mike exclaimed.

That caused Percy to glare at him and say, "Just drop it."

Mike's eyes widened in shock, and he looked like he was about to start a fight, but one look from Chloe, his girlfriend, silenced him.

Then, just like it had never happened, Percy went back to normal. He regained his signature troublemaker smirk and finished eating his lunch.

ΩΩΩ

Percy and Annabeth had separate 5th period classes, so they saw each other after another hour. The second class they shared was PE, and it was during 6th period.

As soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of 5th period, Percy was bolting towards the locker room. This was because today was the first day of the swimming unit, and everyone knows Percy is obsessed with water.

Annabeth, even if she did walk a little faster, attempted to hide her excitement. She speed-walked into the girl's locker room, grabbed her swimsuit, and changed as quickly as possible.

Unlike Percy, she had the sense to ask Lady Hecate if she could use the Mist to hide her more gruesome scars at school. That way she didn't have to explain why she had claw-marks running across her back.

By the time she was walking out of the changing room, the rest of the class had arrived, and Percy was waiting by their teacher, bouncing from foot to foot in barely-contained excitement. The sight brought an involuntary smile to reach Annabeth's lips, and she was forced to hide it before anyone caught her looking at Percy so lovingly.

She walked up to the teacher and joined them in waiting for the rest of the class to change. In an attempt to stay away from Percy's bubbly energy, Annabeth stood six or so feet away from him with a stoic expression. This was the face she wore when she was intentionally masking her emotions. It may have been a mistake using it at school, but it was a part of her, and a daughter of Athena should never be afraid of being who they are.

Once everyone had shown up, the teacher took roll and started giving instructions, "Alright class, today we're just going to be practicing basic form while doing laps around the pool. For those of you on the swim team, you can choose to practice some more advanced strokes, ok? Now, let's get a volunteer to show us a good breaststroke. Anyone?"

Percy literally jumped at the opportunity to get in the water, and before anyone knew it, he was performing a perfectly-formed breaststroke. The sight caused Annabeth to smirk and think, showoff.

Once he had finished showing off, Percy jumped out of the pool, careful to make himself wet, and walked back over to the group. He had the biggest smile on his face, and it was hard for everyone to not smile along.

"That was great, Percy! I see why they made you the captain of the team! You have a natural talent in the water!" their teacher said, not realizing how true his words were.

Annabeth and Percy couldn't help but catch each other's eye with a knowing glint in them. It was hard not to when the one person in the entire student body that actually knew the other was standing right in front of you.

Fortunately, it wasn't caught by anyone who cared to speak up. The only person who seemed to see it was Addison, and she didn't think it was necessary to put any thought into it at the time.

"Yeah. That's what a lot of people tell me," Percy said, shaking his hair out.

Little did he know, that little act made most girls in the room swoon. Percy was so effortlessly handsome, and he didn't even know it!

It would've made Annabeth laugh if she wasn't a part of the swooning. But unlike the others, she knew how to hide it. All that changed in her demeanor was her lips twitching up ever-so-slightly.

That little hair flip almost made her decide to call off the entire plan and just kiss her boyfriend. However, she was able to snap herself out of it before any rash decisions could be made.

The rest of the class was spent by Percy and the few other swimmers working on their own while the left-over students would work on their breaststroke form. Annabeth could've kept up with the swim team members, but she had no interest in doing so. The only reason she was any good was because she had trained at camp with Percy, and it felt wrong doing it with other people around. Swimming was something she did in the demigod world, and right now, she was in the mortal world. That meant that she was a nerdy new girl.

"Ok, class, go get changed. Class ends in five minutes," their teacher announced.

Everyone but the swim team members started to head to the locker rooms to take their showers, dry off, and change. Nobody was in any hurry because this was the last class of the day.

The swimmers stayed in their suits because they had practice right after school. They just grabbed some towels to dry off and that was it.

Annabeth was the first one to finish changing, and the bell hadn’t rung yet, so she just stood by the pool and the swim team members. They were in their own conversation, but as soon as she had walked towards them, Percy had drifted over to Annabeth. It was instinctual; he acted without thinking about it.

Percy did a lot of things that way.

Annabeth acted like she didn't notice his presence beside her, but he knew she could sense him. Demigod senses were too highly-tuned for them to not realize when someone was standing next to them. Instead of initiating the conversation, Annabeth decided that the best way to maintain their cover was to just keep staring at the water. Unfortunately, Percy didn't catch the memo.

"So...my friends keep asking me what happened in Greek," he said softly.

"Same. And it's your fault; it was your idea to race. Now there's suspicion," Annabeth said back, finally looking up at her boyfriend.

She had recently started to really appreciate the moments when she gets to look at his face head-on more. How, despite going through Tartarus, his eyes still held that happy glint. And how his mouth was always holding that troublemaker smirk. His eyes seemed to be sucking her in, and if she didn't watch herself, they would find themselves kissing without a care in the world for the people around them.

"It was so not my fault! You started it!" Percy's voice started to rise slightly.

"Quiet down! We need to keep anyone from suspecting our relationship," Annabeth reminded him.

Percy sighed, "Why do we have to do this again? I'm getting tired of waiting to kiss you until we're home."

"Remember, I promised you a reward for all your hard work tonight," Annabeth said in Ancient Greek in an attempt to keep her boyfriend from destroying all their hard work.

"Oh yeah...do I get to choose this reward?" Percy asked, not even realizing he was speaking in Ancient Greek, too.

What neither of them realized was that they were slowly starting to step closer and closer to each other in a challenging stance.

"Maybe...depends on what you want," Annabeth answered.

"I think I might have something in mind..." he said, drifting off into his imagination.

It was then that Annabeth finally realized how close the two were standing. Using her usual quick-thinking, she found a way to distract from what was happening.

Annabeth pushed Percy into the pool and stormed away.

She may be acting like she was mad, but she really wasn't. Annabeth just needed the newly-arrived rest of the class to forget about what had happened before. When she listened, Annabeth could hear people gasping and Percy sputtering in the pool. He had figured out that he needed to act like he had gotten caught by surprise and that he wasn't someone who could breathe underwater. He had also needed to focus so that he stayed wet.

The only one Annabeth's plan didn't work on was Addison, who had stayed in her spot, unmoving (unlike everyone else), and watched Annabeth exit the room with narrowed eyes. Addison may not know what was going on between Percy and Annabeth, but she did know that they knew each other, somehow.

ΩΩΩ

chapter 3 :)

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #teen #high school #percabeth

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stephn-prkr · 6 years ago

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Last Warning

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, little bit of Bucky x Reader

Warnings: implied smut, swearing, violence, angst

Words: 2,168

A/N: This is my first ff in a long while. This is in no way showing hate towards the characters mentioned. :)

It's not a shocking scenario where Steve would be attached to Sharon the first time they've meet. Sharon's linked to Peggy, Steve's first love. You understood how Steve must've felt all those years stuck in ice, then waking up 70 years later, all your loved ones, gone. Deep down, you know that he hasn't moved on. That there's still a piece of his heart missing. He hasn't given up. He knows that sometime, someway, there's a possibility where he'd come back and continue his life in his 40s, with Peggy. Time travelling, diving into the Quantum Realm, he knows there's still a way.

You thought of yourself as a distraction. Steve's way of distracting himself of his thoughts - his Mind Palace, as Sherlock would say. Distraction from thinking about Peggy, distracting of how he still wants to be with Peggy. I mean, heck, he'd always talk about her when you two weren't dating yet. That was all in his mind. And you understood that.

But you couldn't help but feel the jealousy and loneliness lingering the moment Sharon stepped in the compound. You and Steve were barely even talking anymore, you sometimes wonder if he still remembers that you exist, his girlfriend. You'd walk in on Steve laughing at what Sharon said, waking up alone and cold and entering the common room, seeing Steve brew a coffee for Sharon in the early morning. You sigh, just the thought of it made you want to sit in a corner and cry for days.

You weren't an idiot. You knew Steve fell head over heels for Sharon. And even thought it hurt seeing them together, you didn't want to hurt Steve by threatening him to stay away from her because he's slowly drifting away from you. You kept ignoring that possibility.

"Y/N." Tony breaks the silence from you two. Both of you were in the basement, helping Tony fix his Iron Man suit as it seems to be malfunctioning. You looked up to meet his eyes, hinting that you were listening. "You and Steve...okay?" He asks. Seeming to have noticed the slight, uncomfortable breeze whenever you attempt to talk to Steve normally again. "What do you mean?" You raised your eyebrows, pretending to be unaware of the situation. "It seems like uh, Steve and Sharon are getting along just fine."

"I know." You sigh. "If he's happy, then I am too." You lied. And Tony knew damn well you're lying. He's like a father figure to you. You'd tell him your secrets, including your undying love for Steve. Tony pursed his lips, not wanting to continue the conversation, aware that deep inside, you're hurt.

It was one in the morning, You felt cold that Steve wasn't there to hold you, to wrap his arms around you as if he'd never wanted to let go. You sighed rolled over the bed to search for Steve. You'd gone to the HQ, common room, kitchen, empty. Gym was the last place you have to look.

As you were approaching the gym, it was quiet, however, you saw something shifting at the corner of the room, the sounds of heavy breathing and something wet. You flicked the lights on, only to see Steve on top of Sharon, in the midst of taking his shirt off until both turned their heads to the door.

You gasped. Tears threatening to leave your eyes. You're eyes were glowing red, rage activating your mutant powers. "I fucking knew it!" You shouted, loud enough to wake the other avengers. You stormed out of the room, Steve following suite, "I-it's not what it looks like." He stutters, putting his shirt back on. "Oh, yeah. My own boyfriend on top of a fucking bitch who needed to be reminded that he's taken. Should I point the fact that your fucking boner is showing underneath your sweatpants, not to mention I caught you two eating each others faces! What does it look like, Steve Rogers?" You screamed. Tears rapidly running down your cheeks, slowly, the rest of the now awake members were shocked, you were never the type to get mad. But it didn't matter the fact that what they were seeing is Steve humiliated and sweating, followed by a half-naked Sharon, and a very mad and glowing Y/N.

Steve had no other words left to say, neither did Sharon. "Do you have something to say, you stupid bit-" You violently threw Sharon across the hallway, rage slowly poisoning you. "Y/N!" Steve yelled. Finding his way over to Sharon, checking if she was still conscious. You didn't care that you hurt her, Steve, or every member of the avengers watching everything happen. You storm inside your room, aggressively throwing your bag on top of your bed and stuffing your clothes in. "Y/N, please," Steve entered, grasping your wrist, you slapped his arm, "Please what? Please what, Steve?" You yell at his face. "Don't make stupid excuses, I am not a blithering idiot," You stared into his eyes, those fucking puppy eyes, thinking he could do anything for you to forgive him. You laughed, "to think that this is by far our longest conversation we had ever since she stepped inside this compound, you forgot about my existence!" You sobbed. You punched his chest, over and over again. "To think you ever loved me!" "I am in love with you! I will always love you!" He shouted back. You grabbed your bag and placed it over your shoulder, "That's not what I saw back in the gym."

You stormed out of the room, staring at the rest of the members' eyes, "Why don't all of you report to Nick Fury what happened? I'm sure he'll find it understanding as to why I am leaving the avengers." You sobbed, running your way to the exit. Leaving Steve, and the rest broken.

Nearly ten months later, you found yourself working as a Teacher in an elementary school. It was the children's last day before they have their short holiday. It was your lunch break, however you fancied taking care of the children playing on the playground rather than eating, you barely ate, losing appetite every time that scene at the avengers gym replayed in your head. You looked at the children, smiling, giggling, running around, full of joy. You thought of that day you and Steve promised to one day, get married and have kids. The thought of having kids with the person you love and knew you'd forever be by their side was breathtaking. All was thrown out the window. Ever since then, you were afraid to love again.

"Teacher Y/N! Teacher Y/N!" A young girl came running up to you. "What is it, honey?" You asked, face full of concern. "The avengers are outside of the school!" She said, tone full of enthusiasm and excitement. You choked on your own breath. What the fuck?

You ran to the gates, it was true, You saw Tony, Clint, Natasha, Bucky, Wanda, Thor, Bruce, and Steve. That one person you never wanted to see, ever again. You activated your powers, hands glowing red, about to initiate an attack. Eyes full of rage again. "How in the hell did you find me?" You growled at Tony. "Planted a tracking device inside your bag before you left." He playfully smirked. You missed this. You missed your father figure, your best friends Natasha and Wanda, everyone. You couldn't help but hug Tony tightly, "'ve missed you so much." You whispered behind Tony's ear, fighting back the tears.

You've welcomed everyone, until your eyes reached to Steve, his eyes, indicating that he was still sorry about what happened, you could give less of a damn.

"You have to come with us," Tony insisted. "We'll talk about it at the compound." You agreed. You reported to the school's office that there was an emergency, grabbed your stuff, and headed towards the Quinjet.

It took all of your strength not to punch Steve in the face. You did miss the times where you and Steve would just lay in bed all day and just cuddle, missing the feeling your lips touched his -- but all of them gradually changed from love to anger. You were resisting the urge to cry, all the memories flashing back inside your head, like you were somehow cursed to only remember the hell you've been through.

You've only agreed to come with them because you seemed that it was urgent. Knowing that Tony planted a tracking device on you, you were curious as to why Tony only appeared now.

"Everybody, in the conference room, now." Tony ordered, you followed suite. Anxiety creeping up. Unaware of what's happening.

On the way there, you've managed to pass by Sharon, rage creeping up inside your veins again." You've met eyes with Sharon, glaring. She stopped in her tracks, "Y/N, I--I'm truly sor-"

"Save it. " You snapped.

With a sigh, Tony starts the meeting. "So, everyone's aware why they're here," He begins, and glancing at you, "Except for you." He completed his sentence. "Y/N, Please come back? We need you more than you'd ever expect," Tony practically begs, "Nick, Nick is still mad that you left, ofcourse that's not yours to blame..." Natasha added before stealing a short glance at Steve, awkward silence filling the room. "Please, Y/N. You are one of our strongest, and smartest avengers we have, and the most cheerful one, Thor wanted you! For once, it wasn't about wanting a puppy! " Natasha begs as she held my hand. You smiled, "Fine, but only if you'd finally let Thor have a puppy here." You say, "Yes! You heard her!" Thor exclaimed as he excitedly wielded his hammer. While the rest were cheering, glad that you've returned, Steve was still glued to his seat, smiling.

After Clint and Thor gladly volunteered to bring all your stuff to your new room, they left and you were left alone in your thoughts.

"Hey."

You winced. That voice.

You carried on and begin to arrange your stuff. "You need help? I'll-" "I don't need any kind of help, especially from you." You snapped. Muscles tense as he steps forward. "Please, let's talk." Steve begged, your eyes rolling, "What's there to talk about? I am done, Steve, I'm only here to help the team." You groaned, tired from all the bullshit Steve has been pulling so far. "I still love you." He admitted. You chuckled, "And I don't give a damn, tell that to your girlfriend, that you're still a cheating bastard."

Suddenly, he aggressively grabbed your wrist, "Can't you just please accept my apology already? I'm on edge, cut a guy some slack, do you know how hard it was for me the last few months?" He yelled. That's it, that was the last straw, your whole body started glowing and with full force, you threw him all the way to the common room, where everyone still was, all eyes widening, dropping what they were doing. "You selfish prick! You're one to talk after I caught you and Barbie fucking at the gym, While we were dating, Steve! Dating!" You screamed at the top of your lungs. "And you come to me to make me understand the 'shit' you've been through? Is it my fault you chose to fucking lie and betray? You're just a cheating asswipe!" You say as you grabbed him by the collar and threw him across the wall again, leaving Steve no time to take a breather, he groaned. "No! You don't understand what pain I've been through! Seeing the person I loved with all my heart love someone else. Guess what? You're still with her!" You screamed, a sob escaping your lips. "I can't believe that you're still looking for forgiveness! Spoiler alert, you'll never get one." You spat.

"This is your last warning, if you ever lay a finger on me, or even try to 'have a talk' again, I'll shove that finger up your ass where the sun don't shine." You threatened him, and stormed out of the room.

You angrily shut the door behind you and collapsed on the bed. Hard and angry sob escaping your lips. "Fucking Fuck, fuck you Steve Rogers." You mumbled, hands resting on your head, biting your lips to stop you from crying. When you heard a soft knock on the door, "c-come in." You softly said, confident that that wasn't Steve since you knocked him out. The door opens, revealing a concerned Bucky.

You sat up from your bed, allowing him to sit next to you, he held your hand, not saying anything. Would anyone be fine, after what just happened? A soft sob escaped from your lips once again, "Shh, it's gonna be fine, okay? Just listen to my voice, it's gonna be okay." Bucky whispered, wrapping his arms around you while his metal hand was softly playing with your hair.

For once, in a long while, it felt like home.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #marvel mcu #fanfiction #fanfic #avengers #tony stark #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #thor odinson #clint barton #stucky #hulk #bruce banner #the avengers

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sarcasticbabywhispererjess · 5 years ago

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The movie “Secret Obsession” opens with the main character Jennifer being chased through a rest stop bathroom by a knife wielding maniac. She escapes out into the rain (very dramatic), gets hit by a car and is subsequently brought to the hospital.

The following happens in the hallway of the hospital and OR...

Bagging patient randomly off and on.

“She’s going into v-fib.” (closed captioning says v-tach)

No compressions are started.

“She’s unstable.” (no shit)

No one starts compressions… way to fail ACLS step 1. Get on the chest!

“We need to start compressions.” Yes, please!

No one actually starts compressions, but someone does listen to her with a stethoscope.

“Miss can you hear me?” She’s in v-fib and you’re not doing compressions, her brain isn’t being perfused… she ain’t gonna answer you, doc.

“She’s unresponsive.” Ya think?

“I’m losing a pulse.” She’s been in v-fib, but had a pulse this whole time? I think your monitor is faulty. Also, why start compressions if there’s a pulse… not that they have done any compressions so far.

Still no compressions.

Shocks with 300 joules… with paddles that we don’t ever use anymore. (You don’t shock with 300 joules on any defibrillators, 120-200 on biphasic, or 360 on monophasic… yes I looked this up.)

“Bradycardia. 30… 90/50.”

Patient is in an organized rhythm and has a pretty good BP.

“Charge to 360” What?! Why?! Shocks her again.

WTF?! Why did you shock her? You don’t shock bradycardia.

“Get another amp of epi”… shocks again.

That was three shocks in like a minute… never any compressions.

Pulse is now 75… they call it a success and say they can start surgery.

That was a DISASTER of a code. I get that it’s a movie, but codes are exciting when you follow actual ACLS guidelines (less defibrillating though), they didn’t need to do this. Plus, just edit and reorder some of those lines and it would have made more sense. Also...

DO SOME FUCKING COMPRESSIONS!

Ok, below I continue with a play by play and commentary on the rest of the movie... warning, spoilers ahead.

Jennifer is in a hospital bed, extubated after surgery, but hadn’t regained consciousness after surgery. No, we don’t do that.

Leg is in a brace and sling. Huh? Why?

Has Coban, but no gauze wrapped around her head like a headband (not sure where her injury is… somewhere near her hippocampus since that is where her brain injury is according to the doctor when he is explaining about how her memory is going to be affected by her brain injury) and random pieces of white tape on her nose and fingers. ???

Jennifer is in the hospital for several weeks it seems after the montage of memory card games and learning to push her own wheelchair. All of her facial abrasions are healed as she’s being discharged which also denotes the passing of time. I’m not quite sure why they kept her so long.

She is standing at the counter and is told by the nurse discharging her (who also was there the night she was admitted) that her CT results came back and is given a vague update. Nurse gives her prescription bags… I mean, I guess it’s a nurse, she’s not wearing a badge but is wearing a stethoscope around her neck (confirmed later, she’s a nurse). She gives Jenn a cane to walk with when she gets home… 2-3mins a day (That’s like no time at all). Jenn is given no instruction of how to use it, I’ve only ever seen her use a wheelchair.

Jennifer is sent home with a wheelchair. Her leg brace is gone. So can she not walk because of her brain injury, not her leg injury?

Man, this nurse works a lot… she seems to be there every day/night. And she’s in charge of follow-up calls/appointments. They’re in California, so at least she probably makes pretty good money since she runs the whole damn hospital.

OK, cane/wheelchair is because of her leg. Why the fuck doesn’t she just have crutches? That’s dumb. I guess it’s to make her more helpless.

God damn, her skin is so nice.

Russell and Jenn start to get intimate, Jenn has a scary memory flash and rebukes his advances. Russell doesn’t take it well. He roughly grabs her arm. He starts talking about how much he has done for her and how he’s her husband (is he though?), so he deserves better. Twat. Jenn is freaked out both by her memory and Russell’s behavior, but just turns off the light, rolls over away from him, and goes to bed. I would have left.

Damn, nurse Masters is still at work? She literally works 24/7 in this ED. Jenn still has an active chart? There are doctor’s notes in it? This place hasn’t switched to EMR yet? But they have high res security cameras that hospital security can pull up and email files within minutes? Impressive. Do a lot of crimes happen in this hospital? So those are their priorities? Weird.

Wtf is a heritage tattoo? That’s how the detective figured out her maiden name? Seems far fetched, but I’m not looking it up.

The detective enters Jennifer’s home that she shared with her parents according to records… and he keeps touching things without gloves on. You’re a shit detective, dude. How have her parents been dead this whole time and no one has looked for them? They didn’t have jobs? Were they hermits?

Russell leaves and Jenn hears a lock sound from the bedroom door. She jiggles the door handle and can’t get it open, “Did he just lock it?” Well he didn’t unlock it ya dumb bitch. Well apparently she was some kind of criminal in her past life, so she can open locks with a bobby pin. Really? The password on Russell’s computer is Jennifer’s maiden name. FFS. This is the most unrealistic thing in the movie.

Why would he cut the cord for the internet? Just to be dramatic. He could just as easily have just unplugged the cord and taken it with him. Did he not want to use the internet anymore either? Anyway, he planned far ahead enough to disable the internet just in case she got into the computer, but didn’t delete all the pictures pre-photoshopping off his computer? Idiot.

Who just swallows a pill that someone puts in their mouth just because they also forced water into your mouth? You’re not a dog, Jennifer.

Russell uses a chain and lock that he happens to have in his pocket to chain her to the bed. Pretty sure she can get that chain off of her ankle if she wanted to. It’s not that tight.

Oh my goodness, nurse Masters isn’t at work! Russell is super weird to her and then speeds away from the store where he bought lye.

The chain is much tighter suddenly… but loose enough that Jenn could get it off. Ok, wtf is wrong with her leg… she can’t seem to straighten it from like 30 degrees… they should’ve kept that brace on her from the beginning of the movie and also done more ROM exercises with her while she was in the hospital for all those weeks. She apparently used to be some kind of medic? Duct tape as an ace bandage ankle wrap? Probably not the most effective, but could be worse. Though I imagine she’d only have some soft tissue injury from that chain, I don’t know if she needs to wrap her ankle.

Jenn gets into the garage where she acts like it smells bad.. like a dead body, maybe? She hides in her car that is in the garage when fake Russell gets home. He also acts like the garage reeks. Why does he open the trunk to see the real Russell’s dead body? Like, he knows that it’s in there and he could already smell the decomposing body… he just wanted a better whiff? Also, why hasn’t he buried the body yet? He buried that witness the day he killed him. Well, semi-buried… it was a really shallow grave that Jenn tripped onto and touched the dude’s hand. Honestly, he did a piss-poor job at hiding the body. Also, now that I’m thinking about it, real Russell’s body isn’t very decomposed for having been in the trunk of a car in a hot garage for several weeks (unless the garage has A/C, but there would still be a lot more rotting of the flesh after such a long time). Jennifer’s parents bodies decomp was much more progressed even though it seems they’ve all been dead the same amount of times.

The detective is at “their” house, he knows Russell isn’t Russell and there’s something nefarious afoot. This detective needs to go back to detective school. Stop touching potential evidence without gloves on. Why would fake Russell just cover up an old sign that has his actual last name on it? Just get a new sign, you nut job. Well, the shitty detective isn’t aware of his surroundings and doesn’t have his gun drawn, so of course fake Russell/Ryan is able to sneak up behind him and hit him over the head. He’s dead… actually probably just unconscious in an ice chest since fake Russell is only good at killing people most of the time. Also, I have a feeling we’re going to need the detective later to help save Jenn.

Uh oh, glasses are off… I guess he’s not Russell anymore. He’s crazy, obsessive Ryan.

Yes, take time to watch that video on your phone, Jenn… get sentimental while you’re trying to run for your life.

Why is this dude so hyper focused on this chick? He’s hot. He could have his pick of plenty of girls. I suppose it’s hard to think in rational/logical terms with a sociopath no matter what he looks like.

Oh good… he’s doing the villain speech where he explains his backstory. Apparently he had to light a single taper for it. I have a feeling the candlestick holder might come into play later… in Jennifer’s benefit. No, wait... he left the lighter and tied her up with flammable rope. But she knocked it on the floor… moron.

Oh good, the detective is alive. He’ll save them both even if he’s also an idiot. Since all women need saving.

Wait, she got herself out. Why hit him with the vase? The solid metal candle holder would’ve been a better choice. Solid work falling down the stairs, Jenn

The detective is out of the ice chest. And he’s using the Babe from Kill Bill incentive… yelling at himself to make his brain/muscles work. He at the very least has a concussion/TBI from being knocked unconscious, yelling at yourself doesn’t fix that.

Jennifer! Why are you going into the woods? You have his keys and there are so many cars on the property, you probably have a key that will work on at least one of them. Even if you didn’t have the keys, if you can pick a lock, can’t you hotwire a car too? Why do you think you’d get better signal in the mother fucking woods? Yes, try to hit him with a heavy log that you can barely lift. You’ll get good momentum and swing. Just use one of those rocks you just threw to distract him. Idiot.

Ok, she shot fake Russell/Ryan in the back while he was wrestling with the detective. The first shot was fairly high in the chest and had a pretty good chance of hitting his lung or something important, but he’s still able to come at her. Her second shot got him in the upper right abdomen, so probably the liver and he just goes down... dead. FFS. At least have shot him in the heart area, that would’ve been slightly more believable. Oh well, I guess that’s that. A little follow up with the detective and Jenn. She’s moving back to San Jose (hopefully she’s getting a new place since her parents were murdered in her old house) and the detective is moving to AZ even though he never found his daughter that had gone missing as a child many years ago (a part of his backstory that brought nothing to the story and was never resolved).

Guys, this was not a great movie. I did kind of enjoy tearing it apart though.

#secret obsession #movie review #acls review #don't watch movies with nurses #we're the worst #why can't any movies or tv get codes right?#just do some damn compressions people!#netflix #netflix original

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ladylynse · 6 years ago

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For @lavandula11235! I hope you’re having a great holiday. I was your Secret Santa for the Christmas Truce. You get this a little bit early to match the story’s setting. *grins* You wanted something with the Ghost Writer, so....

Resolution: [FF | AO3] Danny’s wary of seeing the Ghost Writer again, but it’s almost Christmas, and his apology will mean more if it comes before the safety of the Christmas Truce.

Danny paused outside the Ghost Writer’s mansion. Their last encountered hadn’t been, well, the best experience of his life. And the Ghost Writer hadn’t had a great time, either. Walker had only just let him out of prison, a little fact Danny only knew because Ember had taunted him about it during her latest concert attempt in the Real World earlier today.

Ember clearly didn’t need the Ghost Writer’s help to write the lyrics to her hits, but Danny got the feeling they were friends, even if he hadn’t seen them together. He wasn’t sure she’d have known otherwise, at least not so soon, even though all his regular enemies were well aware of what had gone down when the Ghost Writer had broken the Christmas Truce last year.

But he might not have done that if Danny hadn’t provoked him.

And Danny had learned something from it all.

Danny took a deep breath and raised his fist to knock on the door, only to have it open in his face. “Uh—”

“You again!” the Ghost Writer cried. “Have you come to gloat?”

“Um, no.” Danny dropped his hand and swallowed. “I, uh, actually came to apologize. For ruining your Christmas poem last year. And for just being a jerk. You’re right. I needed to be taught a lesson. And I was, thanks to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, hope your copy of your new poem wasn’t destroyed in prison.”

“It was confiscated,” the Ghost Writer said. He looked Danny up and down. “But you seem sincere this time.” He stepped back and opened the door wider. “If you promise to destroy nothing else, you may come in.”

Danny bit his lip, but he couldn’t see anything that was a weapon—no pens, pencils, or worst of all keyboards—and he didn’t really want the Ghost Writer to think he was rude and try to teach him another lesson in case he’d managed to get a new keyboard already and just had it in a different room.

He did notice that the fruit bowl was devoid of oranges, though. He smirked. He didn’t think the Ghost Writer would let anyone get the better of him like that again. Getting rid of all non-rhyming fruit in his house was probably one of the first things he’d done.

The mental image was entertaining, but he was probably better off if the Ghost Writer didn’t know that. “You know, it’s kinda weird not to hear you rhyming after last time,” Danny commented as he stepped through the doorway.

That turned out to be the wrong thing to say.

The Ghost Writer grinned and spread his arms wide. Danny started to regret coming inside. “Do you miss it already, the rhyme of Yuletide? The rhythm, the cadence, the meaning implied? It’s simple to teach you a lesson anew—”

“No, no, no, no, I don’t want you to!” Danny shook his head and held up his hands. “I don’t want to be tied to your commands!” The last thing he wanted was another narration. “I swear, it was just an observation!”

“There’s nothing wrong with rhyme,” the Ghost Writer said. “Words don’t lose their charm just because you’re dead.”

“I know that, I do,” Danny insisted. “It’s just that I don’t want my words twisted!” He clapped his hands to his mouth and looked on in horror. “How did you—? When? When I crossed the border?”

Each ghost’s lair is under their control, but it’s an easy thing to forget on the whole. The borders aren’t always clear, at the edge of a building or rock. How far they extend can be quite a shock.

“But you aren’t typing,” said Danny, peering about. “How are we in a story if you aren’t writing it out?”

The Ghost Writer laughed and tapped the side of his head. “Not all stories are written where they can be read.”

Danny could only stare in dismay; he didn’t know the right words to say. He hadn’t expected this show of power, hadn’t thought the Ghost Writer would still be so sour. Breaking the rhyme would not break the curse. If he wasn’t careful, he’d just make things worse.

Maybe if he kept quiet, he’d make it through?

“When I was in prison, I had to make do.” The Ghost Writer shuddered and called up a chair. It was not the first time he’d conjured from air. The rhyme of his words reshaped their reality, and Danny didn’t know how he’d ever break free. His lessons were learned, the final page turned. If he didn’t know how he’d offended, how could he get this curse suspended?

“Stories don’t end because they’re forbidden; they’ll keep spinning, even when hidden. I’ve carried this tale without whispering a word, and now its power is such that it doesn’t need to be heard. It writes itself, as all good stories do. I don’t need to think it for it to be true.”

“But what does that mean?” poor Danny cried. The thought of a never-ending story had him terrified. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life speaking in rhyme, but he didn’t think Clockwork would let him go back in time. He didn’t know what he had to fix, but if there wasn’t something, why the Ghost Writer’s tricks? Because that’s what this was, this lure, this trap. It couldn’t just be some lame Christmas recap.

“Words aren’t just words,” the Ghost Writer replied. “They cut, build, or paint, or act as a guide. They aren’t to be thrown about without care; each nuance in meaning has its own flair. You speak without thinking, leaping not looking—”

“But I said I was sorry! Why stick me in another story?”

“Oh, but you didn’t say sorry at all. Do you really mean you don’t recall? You just said you’d needed a lesson, that you were a jerk,” the Ghost Writer pointed out with a smirk.

Danny rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. He wasn’t convinced the Ghost Writer would make a good ally. “Look, I’m sorry I destroyed your book. Now can you please let me off the hook?”

The Ghost Writer’s grin spread from ear to ear. “How am I to tell you’re sincere?”

“Because I’m not blasting you,” Danny ground out. “You’re not standing in ashes; that should erase your doubt. I’m here because I hoped we could make amends. I actually thought we could be friends. You didn’t seem so bad when we fought last year, and I did need that lesson on holiday cheer. But that was before I knew you held a grudge, so I’m not sure I should offer Mom’s homemade fudge.” But he pulled it out from his pocket just in case; if nothing else, he could rub it in the Ghost Writer’s face.

The Ghost Writer’s eyebrows climbed to his hair. “You really did come to clear the air? I was sure you were here out of spite. The Christmas Truce doesn’t begin till midnight!”

“That’s my point! It’s not hard to deduce. If we start as friends, we don’t need the Truce. I don’t fight with all ghosts, just the ones who invade. I want to protect my home; that’s not a charade. If you don’t attack, then we’ve no need to fight—”

“And our own truce can be written this very night.” The Ghost Writer smiled and got to his feet. “We’ll write something up, free of deceit. You can breathe easy, young Danny Phantom. I promise not to throw another tantrum.”

“Then why are we still speaking in rhyme?”

“Oh, don’t worry; that will end in due time. The story’s not finished, not quite, you see, but it’ll end soon enough, and then you’ll be free.”

“Then write something up and let’s get this done! I can’t wait for soon enough to come. My family will miss me, and they’ll see it this time. If they’re not part of your story, they’ll notice the rhyme. Their arguing won’t distract them this year; they’ll suspect ghosts and they’ll grab their gear. I don’t want to be chased all over town, so just get a pen and write something down. We can work out the details later!”

“Then you’ll trust me to be the creator?” Paper and pen appeared in the Ghost Writer’s hand; he scrawled a few words, as if he’d had this planned. “This document will be binding, you know. I won’t mince words, not with a former foe.”

Danny shrugged and confessed, “Trust is part of the deal. If we’re being honest, I wouldn’t get the whole spiel. Just draw up some terms, and we’ll go from there. I’m hoping your conscience will keep you fair.”

The Ghost Writer jotted down a few lines before showing Danny where they would sign. The Christmas Truce, it simply read, will be year-round for us instead. All grievances are to be aired, no necessary details spared. (This contract is to be annually reviewed to avoid the development of an irresolvable feud.)

Danny laughed and signed his name, and then the Ghost Writer did the same.

“Now, I believe you brought some fudge.” The Ghost Writer nodded at the bundle in Danny’s left hand. “Why not celebrate the end of a grudge?”

Danny’s eyes went wide, and his voice climbed. “Wait, I thought we were done with the rhyming! Isn’t reaching an agreement perfect timing?”

The Ghost Writer chuckled. “This isn’t the end but the start of something new.” Danny groaned, and the Ghost Writer added, “At best, it’s the end of a chapter, but it’s far from the end of the story. We’re still writing that.”

“Wait, so we aren’t—? The rhyming’s actually done?” Danny grinned. “The rhyming’s actually done!”

“You don’t need to be quite so excited about it,” the Ghost Writer said, his face pulling into a slight frown. “Scripting a story is hardly the worst that’s happened to you.”

Danny made a face. “Forgive me if writers don’t seem to be particularly kind to me. Usually. I mean, that’s a generalization, but you tried to frame me for ruining Christmas last year like some sort of Grinch—”

“And was that characterization completely out of place?”

“—and Tucker’s told me some people write stuff about Phantom and—” Danny shuddered. “Living my life is enough of an adventure without people writing me as the main character in their stories!”

The Ghost Writer’s eyebrows shot up. “If you’re so sure your life is already like a story, then how do you know it’s not being written as we speak?”

“Because I don’t sound like a greeting card anymore?” Danny shrugged. “I dunno. I haven’t heard about anyone else like you. There’s not some sort of secret club, is there? Where someone’s actually writing out my life, even the words I’m saying right now, and making me do stuff? Because I have had enough of being controlled.”

The Ghost Writer straightened his glasses. Danny wondered if it was some kind of nervous habit, because they’d looked straight enough to him. “I am the only ghost I know with my unique talents.”

Danny suspected there was a but coming. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to think about the possibility right now when he had so much else to do, so he spoke up before the Ghost Writer had a chance to continue. “Great.” He tore open the fudge and broke off a chunk for each of them, holding one in the Ghost Writer’s direction. “Here’s to Christmas Truces, then.”

He could get the full story—or at least as much as the Ghost Writer knew of it—tomorrow. When everyone else in the Ghost Zone was obliged to play nice. If anyone out there could write stuff and have it come true for him, he didn’t want any of his enemies getting ideas. And maybe he’d get lucky for once, and it really would be nothing. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it, if he came to it.

For now, he could at least celebrate a small victory.

“To Christmas Truces,” the Ghost Writer echoed, taking the piece of fudge, “and to the stories we all write in our own ways.”

(see more fics)

#danny phantom #christmas truce 2018 #phanfiction #dp fanfiction #ghost writer #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #dp snippet #the ghost writer got out early for good behaviour

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gryffindormischief · 6 years ago

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Debut

A/N: A gift for @fightfortherightsofhouseelves. I hope you enjoy this fluff my friend <3 (hardly a surprise though ehe). It fits right in with my previously written wedding/honeymoon Hinny fics. (Clandestine > Wed, [Debut here], and Repartee)

Also available on FF and Ao3!

Harry can already hear the steady rhythm of the ocean when he and Ginny land in a little apparition point tucked away in a secreted part of the hotel, even as they’re greeted by a discrete pre-concierge concierge who introduces himself as Milton.

Immediately, Milton summons a bellhop to cart their baggage to their room while they check in. It’s all a sort of blur, if Harry’s honest, the only real point of clarity in his awareness being the steady warmth of Ginny and her wide brown eyes taking in everything around them with childlike excitement.

As they cross into the main lobby, dress shoes clicking on the waxed marble floors, Harry loosens his tie and slips his arm further around Ginny’s waist so she’s tucked close into his side. She complies easily enough, bringing hers to wrap around his back as she rises on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “Getting handsy there, husband?”

Harry makes his best attempt at a flirtatious grin and presses a kiss to her lips. “Any complaints, wife?”

They near the roped off area in front of the desk and Ginny chuckles in that low, private way that never fails to send Harry’s heart racing. “Oh hell, we’re one of those couples now.”

Pausing just before they reach the check in, Harry pulls Ginny in for a toe curling kiss. “It’s our honeymoon, I think we can have this.”

“I am ridiculously happy.”

The uncontrollable smile that spreads on Harry’s face is mirrored by Ginny’s, her eyes twinkling, lips bright against her pale skin, utterly radiant. And in that moment, Harry’s honestly not sure he’s ever been more full of pure joy. “Me too.”

Once they step up to the desk, Harry’s really trying to be mature and put together and seem moderately competent in front of his new wife. Which is going fine, until Ginny apparently decides that mature, put together, adult Harry is boring and oh so casually drops her hand to cup his arse.

He jolts forward and nearly sends their complimentary fruit infused water sprawling over the hotel computer and the perhaps permanently smiling night manager, Roy.

Harry offers a smile that’s probably closer to a grimace, but manages to relax and answer a few questions haphazardly while Ginny’s hand slips beneath his suit coat but remain in locations fairly acceptable for polite company.

Until Harry picks up the heavy gilt pen and begins signing the proffered forms, and Ginny tugs the tail of his shirt up enough that her fingers can tease beneath the waistband of his trousers. Harry’s hand jumps across the page, leaving a dark slash over the heavy paper. “Er- sorry.”

Roy’s grin widens, slightly manic if Harry’s honest, and waves away his apology.

Ginny by some miracle decides to still her ministrations and tucks herself closer into Harry’s side, muffling her laughter against his wrinkled dress shirt. “Sorry.”

Offering her the pen so she can sign alongside his name, Harry laughs. “No, you are many things, but sorry is not one of them.”

With a wink, Ginny accepts the pen and fills in her lines with a flourish, only hesitating for a moment before she scrawls out ‘Potter.’

In some miraculous feat of self-control, Ginny behaves while they get their room keys and the bellman comes to escort them to their room. Though the reprieve doesn’t last long. As the bellman natters on about the on site restaurants and beach access and whatever else, Ginny’s restraint runs out and her gaze and hands begin to wander.

There’s a cart full of luggage blocking their companion’s view and they’re newlyweds, so Harry throws caution to the wind. With one last glance to their guide, Harry twists to face Ginny, pulling her close and stretching his arms so he can let his touch slip past where polite company would normally dictate.

They’re pressed close enough that Harry can feel Ginny’s heart thudding against his chest, and she can surely feel his pulse thrumming at his throat. But he really can’t bring himself to care, not as he takes a deep breath and fills his lungs with her. Which means it really is his fault when they’re halfway to the honeymoon suite and her arms are banded around his middle, her lips are teasing his throat, and he’s completely enveloped by Ginny.

By the time the lift opens, Harry’s operating on instinct while Ginny’s somehow maintaining conversation, getting information on muggle watersports they can learn, and overall acting her usual effervescent self. Which should mean that Harry’s able to get himself under control.

In reality, he’s just getting more...agitated. And once again, Harry has made the mistake of underestimating Ginny Weasley, which means he assumes she’s completely oblivious to his internal struggle. But when she begins asking inane questions like ‘how do we order room service’ and ‘where’s the nearest frozen yogurt shop’ Harry cottons on - just before Ginny sends him a saucy wink while the bellman drawls on.

Bloody hell.

Once Harry sees a break in the conversation, he pulls a wad of entirely too many bills from his pocket, slaps the bellman on the back, and hastily ushers him out of the room until the door slams shut with a thunk.

“Well that was rude,” Ginny mutters, working her earrings off.

Harry slips his suit coat from his shoulders and slings it over the high-backed chair tucked in front of the balcony. The sea crashes against the beach with white foam that clings to the shore, moonlight casting the evening in a pale glow.

Ginny slips up behind him and grasps his forearm. “I can’t get the clasps.”

When she offers him her wrist, Harry’s suddenly overcome with the imagination of a romance hero, so he lifts her hand until he can press his lips to her palm. He maintains eye contact, letting his thumb take her pulse as it beats faster.

Ginny’s breath catches, but she doesn’t relent, ever bull-headed and tenacious. When he releases her, she twists around and tilts her neck. “And this one?”

His exhales send the escaped wisps of her hair fluttering and before he can tease her further, Ginny flits away, flicking up her skirt so she can undo the dainty straps on her heels. “So this room is lovely, you chose well.”

Harry manages to grunt out a reply, distracted though he is by the creamy expanse of leg Ginny’s exposed. His gaze drags up from her slim ankles, past the freckled curves of her calves, linger at her forever skinned or bruised knees, and damn it all she’s got the silken fabric yanked up well past her shins.

“You weren’t listening, where you?”

Jolting, Harry releases his death grip on the coverlet and ruffles his hair. “I - no. Sorry. You, the dress. Freckles.”

She leans back against the sleek chest of drawers and smirks. “Yes, I am wearing a dress and I do have freckles.”

Hoping to regain some semblance of sanity, Harry turns his attention to his hands, fiddling with the band that now wraps around his finger, glinting in the yellow lamplight.

There’s a pause, then Ginny lets her skirt drop and pads across the parquet until she’s standing between his knees.

Almost automatically, Harry’s hands rise to her hips while hers fall to his shoulders. “Don’t be so nervous dear.”

Harry scoffs. “Easy for you to say. You’re not looking at you in that dress and - ”

“S’not like we haven’t done anything - this isn’t completely new.”

His forehead drops to her middle. “I know, but now we’re married.”

Ginny knits her hands through Harry’s hair, scratching at his scalp, working at the tightness at the base of his skull borne of a wonderful but unbelievably stressful day. Her thumbs come to brush along his cheekbones, skirting the stubble that shades his face. “Harry please. You’re making me bloody nervous and before I was just excited to shag my - my husband.”

Harry squeezes her hips and nuzzles her hand, “Sorry but. God, just seeing you without - just seeing you with.”

Smiling softly, Ginny works the rest of his tie free, tugging the black strip away from his collar before her fingers begin loosening the buttons that run down his front. Halfway down, Harry manages to goad his body into action, finding the little pearl stays that skate over the sway of Ginny’s back, her bum. Gently, he curls his fingers around the scoop of her dress, the straps slowly slipping from her shoulders until she’s bare from the waist up.

She finishes her work with his shirt before her hands fall to his belt. “No fair, you have to undress too.”

Once his trousers fall open, it’s like some sort of dam has broken open. The rest of their clothes are discarded in a mix of heated glances, quick breaths, and nervous giggling.

All their outer garments have been tossed to the side haphazardly when Harry works his way back onto the bed, head cushioned by about a thousand feather pillows that seem to mold around the entirety of his head.

“I lost you, love.”

“These are really...fluffy,” Harry answers, muffled.

Harry sits up, bringing them front to front. His eyes drop to her chest, fingers following soon after, tickling along the scalloped edges of Ginny’s decolletage. “I thought you didn’t like lace.”

Ginny glances down, as if reminding herself what lace they’re discussing, and then oh-so-subtly presses her - self together. “In the right context, I’ll admit it’s appropriate.”

Laughter bubbling up his throat, Harry rolls them until he’s cradled between her thighs, holding himself upright on each elbow. “Oh you will, will you?”

She quirks a brow, wriggles a bit, before her bra pops loose and she tosses the entire garment away. “Are we having a debate or?”

In a flash, his lips are on hers - warm, heated, and unrelenting. He pulls away and begins marking her throat, “Or. Definitely or.”

It’s a chorus of sighs and moans that passes the next quarter of an hour, mixed with elated grins and teasing hands, until Ginny ends up perched over Harry once again. Her hair’s a veritable rat’s nest around her flushed face, though Harry can be certain he’s looking just as if not more utterly destroyed and only in the best way possible.

His thumbs hook into her knickers and begin dragging the honeyed fabric down when Ginny pauses, sitting up straight above him.

Abruptly, Harry yanks his hands away, setting them awkwardly to his sides. “Are you okay? We can - ”

“Yes and I really want to - it’s just - there’s chocolate covered strawberries right there.”

Harry blinks up at her, glasses crooked and full of fingerprints. “Oh my god. Are you asking to pause?”

“It’s not personal - I mean definitely not it’s - this is - I’m.”

Sitting forward again, Harry wraps his arms around Ginny’s middle just as a grumble sounds from her stomach, and holds her close. “Did you get to eat at all? I swear every time I got near any food some near meltdown had to be averted.”

Ginny tucks her face into his shoulder. “I’m so hungry. Is it - I mean,” she glances down meaningfully at his lap, “We could just keep going?”

With a chuckle, Harry presses a short kiss to her lips. “We are not going to ‘just keep going’ - not ever. But especially not on our wedding night, yeah?”

“Good, because I’d be thinking of those little tuxedoed devils the entire time,” Ginny says, lifting herself from Harry’s lap and trotting over to the welcome table they’d somehow managed to miss in the brief guided tour. Though neither would have much trouble explaining exactly who and what they were completely distracted by during said tour.

“Can’t have them distracting you from this tuxedoed devil,” Harry laughs, following in her wake. “Dressing gowns or?”

Ginny pauses ripping the gold foil from the chilled champagne bottle to look Harry up and down, then examine her own mostly naked body and grins. “Nope,” she pops the ‘p’ and the cork at the same instant, “And neither do you.”

Brows rising, Harry shrugs and claims the free seat at the little clawfoot table tucked in the corner and grabs a strawberry, biting into it with a crunch.

Ginny frowns, “No fair.”

Harry licks at his lip to save a sliver of chocolate and takes another bite. “Pour faster.”

Pulling a face, Ginny sticks her tongue out at Harry but fills their glasses with two expert twists of her wrist.

The bubbles tickle Harry’s nose as he takes a swig, studiously keeping his eyes from two particular objects in the room that seem to have some sort of magnetic pull, rising and falling with each of his wife’s breaths. Ginny’s flushed but enjoying his struggle all the same, halfway through her second strawberry and entirely at ease in her state of undress.

Draining the end of his champagne, Harry refills his glass and lifts Ginny’s foot onto his lap, rubbing at her sore muscles. “So music?”

Ginny groans at his ministrations and lets her head drop back, flicking her wand aimlessly toward the end table that houses some sort of radio. The strains of some muggle love ballad fill the room.

As Harry bites into a third strawberry and a new song begins, Ginny muses, “I think we’re supposed to be loved up and feed each other.”

“I love you, but not enough to willingly let you steal a bite of this piece of heaven.”

“Not even half a day into our marriage and already the cracks appear.”

Harry snorts. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Me? You’re the one that went rogue and had a surprise mother-son dance with McGonagall,” Ginny teases, topping off her glass, “Even Charlie teared up.”

“I thought Hagrid was going to cause a flash flood,” Harry laughs, “Though maybe whatever was smoking in that gift box would’ve got extinguished.”

“Can we re-gift that to Charlie?”

“Already done.”

Utterly contented, Harry slumps down in his chair, brocade fabric scratching at his bare back, and gestures for Ginny’s other foot. Complying, Ginny slouches as well and tosses her arms behind her head.

“You’re killing me, Gin.”

“I’m teaching delayed gratification.”

Harry harrumphs.

Unmoved, Ginny swirls her champagne and taps at the crystal glass with a freckled finger. “Shame Dudley brought a date - there were some single people about.”

“Angry Vernon’s a more satisfying gift than a gravy boat.”

Ginny hums, dropping her feet to the plush rug. “True, but maybe we leave that train of thought behind for the mo’, yeah?”

“Vernon’s not really honeymoon material,” Harry agrees.

With feline grace, Ginny rises, “But,” she drags a finger over Harry’s chest, “Chocolate covered strawberries,” continues to saunter until she’s at the foot of the bed, “And champagne,” she drops down onto the full blanket, “And lace…”

Harry follows her trail and kneels between her spread legs. “And you.”

“And you.”

Ginny grabs him around the neck, dragging their lips together until they dance in a heated exchange, before she’s wriggling up the bed and laying herself on display among the pillows. “And this bed.”

Grin uncontrollable and pupils blown wide, Harry crawls up the mattress and picks up where he left off pre-late night snack, nipping at Ginny’s collar bone, skirting his lips lower.

Until he pauses - though his hands continue their teasing circuits - just at her sternum. “Before you have reason to think my judgment is clouded, I love you.”

Ginny gasps as Harry’s thumbs slip beneath the waistband of her knickers and begin slowly working them down her hips. She recovers rather quickly, managing to spread a smirk on her face. “We’re actually married, dear.”

Harry’s somewhere around her knees when he narrows his eyes. “Stop ruining my romantic moment.”

Pressing up onto her palms, Ginny flicks her legs free of her pants and they land comically atop the lampshade. “So sorry. Anything I can do to make amends?”

With a scowl, Harry drops back against the bed and crosses his arms. “No. It’s too late.”

“Oh please?”

“Nope.”

Laugh ringing like a bell, Ginny straddles Harry’s hips and tucks her hands beneath Harry’s pants, squeezing his bum as she drags her lips along his jaw.

Still, Harry’s got his scruples - partially emboldened by half a bottle of champagne on top of whatever he drank at the wedding - so his arms remain folded and his jaw set.

But Ginny’s nothing if not persistent. Her kisses continue down his throat, over his shoulder, swirling back down to the center of his chest, and all the while her hands work the last scrap of clothing between them free.

She presses her lips to the skin over his bounding heart, “I,” the right side of his ribcage, “Love,” and just at his bellybutton, “You.”

In a flurry, Harry drags Ginny back up ‘til she’s looming over him and they’re both a bit breathless, “What’s marriage without a bit of forgiveness and flexibility?”

Ginny hums. “Well forgiveness I’ve seen, but not a lick of flexibility.”

Harry flips them so Ginny’s legs come to wrap around him, their faces mere breaths apart. “The night’s just begun, Mrs. Potter.”

“What wonderful news, Mr. Potter.”

#blarg writes things #blarg writes wedding hinny #hinny wedding #harry x ginny #harry x ginny fic #hinny fic #hinny #harry potter x ginny weasley #harryginny

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undeadwicchan · 6 years ago

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Rewatching RWBY: Volume 1, Episodes 6-10 [Live Blog]

The second half of Volume 1, and yes if you combine the parts. Volume 1 is actually only 10 episodes long.

[Episode 6]

I know it’s first volume and the budget isn’t as big as it is now, but Ruby’s arms in her uniform are unusually long.

Blake is actually somewhat OOC during the ‘Banzai’ then again, Blake is one of Miles’s hardest characters to write and it’s Volume 1 so…

Omg that Achievement Hunter poster

It’s always the quiet ones hehe.

I don’t understand why Ruby would cut the curtain to this very day unless it was an accident.

Weiss is womanlet compared to Yang omg.

Oh right, JNPR’s room is right across from RWBY’s!

“Remember when STRQ was late to class? Good times”

Okay so who is that guy with the black hair and green shirt?!

Also hello Port!

Yeah just yell at Ruby while Yang and Blake were cheering too lmao.

“Sheesh what’s with her,” tell me about it.

“Ozpin made a mistake” Oh hell no.

“My ‘Ruby is having a conflict with herself or with someone’ senses are tingling” - Ozpin, probably.

I love Ryan voicing Port omg.

“I have made more mistakes than any man, woman, and child on this planet” can we talk about how tired and sad Ozma sounds here? Yes, I strongly believe that this is Ozma in control talking to Ruby.

Boy I wonder how that opinion that Port has of Ozpin is going to change now…

You tell her Port.

Yeah, you see Weiss. Ruby is working very hard. Baby girl is doing her best and that’s all that matters. ;v;

HHHhhhhh Weiss is so sweet omg

And now it’s time for probably the most skipped on and criticized arc in the series. Jaundice.

[Episode 7]

Now isn’t that some alluding regarding the characters they’re based off of.

So it’s been a considerable amount of weeks and a few months before the Vytal Festival kinda sorta starts. Interesting.

Omg Ren’s and Nora’s story telling.

Ruby and Pyrrha are on the same wavelength regarding their concern for Jaune

I WILL 1v4 YOU TEAM CRDL IF YOU CONTINUE TO BULLY VELVET.

Oh my god, I know it’s for comedy relief but, that’s kinda messed up Cardin would send Jaune trapped in a locker flying.

Cardin. You. Me. 1v1 now. You dare hurt the Bun?! Speaking of, I know Velvet’s teammates designs aren’t completed, but they would kick Cardin and his team’s ass.

“It must be hard to be a faunus” Yeah… Looking at how shitty society treated Adam and Ilia, it is not much of a brainer.

OOBLECK!

Aw poor baby is so hesitant to speak out about the discrimination she faced as a faunus :c

C’mon Jaune….

Oh man, Adam would just… have a field day with the way Cardin would show his disgust over the faunus .

YES BLAKE. GO PYRRHA. TEAR THAT MAN APART AND DRAG HIM

I wish I had a teacher like Oobleck back during my days of High School.

“You know, I really will break his legs” please do Pyrrha.

...F...Forever Fall is that you I hear? ;v;

I’m sorry guys, but the lyric version of Forever Fall messed me up so much, that if I hear it I start to tear up a bit…

Pyrrha deserves the world god damn it.

This arc does give some perspective on Jaune’s character and how he can grow. I actually love the Jaunedice arc.

SCREW OFF CARDIN.

[Episode 8]

I can’t even blame Pyrrha for being mad and disappointed with Jaune here.

I love this moment between Ruby and Jaune, they’re very supportive of each other and I really like they let each other lean on the other’s shoulder if needed to be. Lancaster man…

C’mon Jaune…

Okay. So we got a tease of Forever Fall in Maya via Adam and Blake shorts but, I really hope we see the forest again!

Pfftttt Nora.

How did Glynda not notice that box of wasps?

You hurt Pyrrha. I hurt you.

Don’t do it….

Yeah Jaune!

Oh no Jaune!

LMAO

Oh because I’m watching on the blu-ray it contains the bonus scene of Nora stealing Pyrrha’s collected sap.

YEAH JAUNE!

Cardin deserved that one.

“Time to save the boyfriend.” - Pyrrha and Ruby, probably.

Go Jaune, go!

I’ll give Cardin this. He actually does keep Jaune’s secret a secret.

*cries internally* God damn Forever Fall…

Ah, there’s that smile from Pyrrha.

And so begins Jaune’s training arc.

[Episode 9]

Alright the Vytal Festival is coming!

Weiss being excited is so precious.

And so begins the Blake vs Weiss arc.

That’s racist, Weiss.

S U N. MY SUNNY BOI.

I miss him having gray eyes omg.

Okay so, Sun winked at Blake. An angelic choir suddenly starts playing and it makes it seem like Sun is introduced as Blake’s future love interest.

Blake looks like he took her breath away or just confused or both.

P E N N Y. MY BABY GIRL.

FRIEND.

Asdfghjkl I miss Penny omg. ;v;

“It’s a combat skirt” iconic.

Where did she find the time to draw that picture of Sun lmao

God damn it Weiss. That’s rude af.

I can feel the discomfort from here too…

“There’s no such thing as pure evil,” now if only a certain part of the FNDM can be aware of that….

Weiss’s anger is valid, but she shouldn’t be generalizing all faunus with the same mind set like that….

Damn, Adam managed to steal an entire train worth of dust even after Blake left all on his own?

Speaking of Adam, he indirectly caused Weiss to have a difficult childhood, I hope people remember that.

“Well maybe we were just tired of being pushed around!” How many do you want to bet Adam said the same thing…

I always wondered if there was a connection between the Faunus and the Grimm….

Awww Volume 1’s purple ears.

And so the S.S. Blacksun sails.

Jfc Weiss

In the manga it’s only been a like not even a full day, but here it’s been two days that Sun has been with Blake.

[Episode 10]

Sun’s disgust over the White Fang is interesting tbh like did he ever encounter them in Vacuo or Mistral?

The only time you see Blake with brown hair.

Okay so… the silhouette on the right…. That looks… an awfully a lot like Adam if you get rid of that tail…

Ffs Weiss….

That slow realization lmao.

What great teammates they are lmao

Sun is great here, he tries to help whenever he can.

Yang is still thinking about Weiss’s words, “Is she innocent?” “She’s our teammate we have to at least talk to her…”

Some nice insight….

Touche.

Yikes, Roman is pretty racist towards them too.

Battle time!!

Man Roman’s dialogue is so witty I love it.

GUN CHUCKS. GUN CHUCKS.

Sun has one of the best fighting styles, but I imagine it’s a pain in the ass to animate it though.

“You hurt my friend, now you’ll pay”

Get em’ Penny!!

Rip those members of the White Fang. Seriously how does Adam manage to bullshit his way into making them help Roman still after this.

“Kinda cute” Bless Ruby

Weiss get some off screen development

And Blake… finally is starting to get her wings… *cries*

How is Ozpin is getting that kind of live feed?

Wings plays and the credits roll for this volume…

But wait there’s more!

Volume 1 Mercury and Emerald look wack. I’m glad they look so much better in Volume 2!

And that’s Volume 1, and now onto Volume 2…. Where the bees start really buzzing since… I hardly could spot a thing for Yang and Blake except during their initiation in Volume 1 and Yang wanting to be understanding. In contrast to where Blake and Sun have established a friendship. But, Volume 2 hoo boy… Buzz buzz.

Buzz.

#RWBY #Yuuri rewatches RWBY

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seriouslyhooked · 6 years ago

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Lost Souls and Reveries (Part 9)

18 part AU written for @cssns. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8. Story available on AO3 Here and FF Here. Banner created by the amazingly talented @shipsxahoy!!

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to a future he is destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers, but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set them free, or will past demons win out in the end? (Answer: love always wins – I am writing this so despite some tiny pockets of angst it’s basically a fluff-filled insta-love fest). Rated M.

A/N: Hey all! So, as promised, we are back with a new chapter (though I am a day later than my usual posting schedule) and this one is arguably the big one. Finally the reveal is here and I have been waiting for it for what feels like forever. It’s going to take a little bit to get there – after all, I can’t just drop the bomb with no ease in, but by the end of the chapter Emma will know the truth and we will all know her reaction. Without giving too much more away, I’ll leave you all to read. Let me know what you think and I hope you all enjoy!

If someone had told Emma even a month ago that she’d willingly walk down the street hand in hand with a man in front of the whole town, she would have called them crazy. That was absolutely not the kind of thing she ever did, but here she was, braving the Fourth of July festivities, proudly holding tight to Killian’s grasp as they made their way down Main Street and over to the park where the town-wide cookout was already in full swing.

“So you’re really sure you want to do this?” Emma asked, teasing Killian when he had made it abundantly clear that this was exactly what he wanted. “It’s not too late to duck out.”

“And miss the chance to turn up with the world’s most beautiful woman on my arm? Never.”

Emma melted into his compliment, despite how over the top it was, and she marveled at how honest he was being and how she couldn’t deny how much he meant the words. They’d been together for a few weeks now, and in all that time Killian bestowed such praise on her constantly. But it never tipped over into the realm of flattery just for flattery’s sake. It was charming, but it was also real, and it left her feeling as beautiful as he believed her to be while also tempting her to say screw it and skip this cookout entirely. The things that she wanted to do with this man were hardly appropriate for this public setting, and if the past few weeks had taught her anything, it was that Emma was a lot less patient than she once thought.

A few weeks – really only two of actually dating – was a very short window to feel this possessive of what they had. Emma was protective of their relationship, and she cherished it far more than a passing fling or ordinary courtship. It felt big and bold, and traditionally, this was the stage of a relationship where people started labeling things, maybe calling themselves boyfriend and girlfriend. But that particular label didn’t seem like enough. Somehow, since meeting Killian, Emma had realized that there was a trivialness to that once aspired to status. It felt like a temporary step before either a couple would break or move on to more. And sure, maybe people dated for years and years without officially taking things further, but in her heart Emma already felt like she and Killian were more.

That feeling was something she’d been clinging to the past few weeks. For all the growing and sharing they were doing together, and for all the time they’d spent in each other’s company (which never did feel like enough), Emma could still feel some boundaries that simply wouldn’t budge, and she wondered why they were up at all. On her end this felt like a given. She was so confident in the two of them, and though they’d never said the words, Emma knew that Killian loved her. He was in love with her, and she felt the exact same way. So what was left between them that was going unsaid? And why did Emma feel like it mattered a whole heck of a lot?

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to know your thoughts right now, love,” Killian murmured as they arrived at the park entrance.

There were people milling about, streaming in to get to the party, but Emma and Killian stopped, standing still in the ebb and flow of foot traffic. Emma turned towards him, meeting his stare after he’d made his comment, and she saw in his gaze that he had picked up on everything she was feeling. He might not know exactly what was bothering her, but he knew something was off, and the look in his eyes was so resolute and certain that she knew he was determined to rid her of any burdens she was carrying. That care and love she saw there only made her fall a little bit more in love, but as much as she wanted to tell him, as much as Emma would like to put it all on the table and be honest with him, she knew it wasn’t the time or place. With their luck her friends or her parents would pop up any second, and the last thing she wanted was to tell Killian that she loved him for the first time with an audience.

“Good thinking. Probably best not to have such a conversation where we could be ambushed.”

Emma gaped at him for a moment before succumbing to laughter. He was funny in his delivery, and the humor was undeniable, but it was also eerie how spot on he was. She knew she hadn’t said anything aloud, but he understood her completely anyway. How was that possible? How could any two people be so in tune with each other? And why didn’t she hate it after spending her life trying to maintain her privacy in a small town where privacy was fleeting?

“Are you like a secret mind reader or something?” She asked, raising a brow at him and taking stock of him all over as if trying to find some kind of physical sign that he was telepathic.

“I’m an Emma reader, and I hate to break it to you, love, but you’re somewhat of an open book.”

“I am not,” Emma said, shaking her head though she still found herself smiling all the same. “You can ask anyone. I’ve got a perfect poker face. I’m undefeated at the legion hall charity games – the definition of cool and collected.”

“With everyone else I dare say you are, love. But with me…” Killian’s words trailed off as he stepped closer, his arms wrapping around her and his fingertips leaving blissful zings of awareness where they brushed against her bare skin. “With us, it’s different. We know each other better than we know ourselves. We’ve learned it fast, but still it’s there. Like a language only we speak.”

“And apparently I can’t shut off the transmission,” Emma said, her voice a bit breathier since Killian was so close and she was wrapped up in his scent, and warmth and big strong arms.

“Would you want to if you could?” Killian asked, a bit of concern crossing into his previously relaxed and happy expression. Instantly Emma sought to rectify it, and she did so by answering him honestly.

“No. I love what we have. I wouldn’t want to change it.”

Thoughtfulness colored his features at that, and while it didn’t alarm Emma, it did remind her of her earlier thoughts. Killian was hiding something, something that worried him. There was a secret he was holding onto, presumably something he thought would change what they already had. But even though Emma didn’t know what it could be, she wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t change things. Whatever he was worried about – whatever he deemed necessary to hold back when they’d always been nothing but open – it wouldn’t ruin this, and it was nothing that they couldn’t handle together. She knew that deep down in her soul.

“Knowing you want this and want me is the greatest gift, love, and I fully intend to show you how grateful I am tonight. But right now…”

“Let me guess, incoming?” Emma asked, knowing that for whatever reason, Killian was always able to tell way before she was when someone was approaching to interrupt one of their interludes.

“Aye, love. Don’t worry though, I’ll protect you.”

His whispered words as Elsa and Anna appeared had Emma chuckling softly to herself, and after giving her best friends a hug, she returned to holding Killian’s hand and began to experience this annual party with a totally new view. It was a very different experience to spend the day like this. Of course she and Elsa and Anna had all been coming together for ages, but they knew the routine like the back of their hand. Killian though was a novice still at Storybrooke’s ways and customs, and watching his reactions to all of it and seeing how excited and desirous to participate he was made Emma’s already present love for her town’s antics grow all the more.

“Okay, so we’ve had food, we’ve made the rounds, we kissed the Captain’s wheel…”

“Which I still don’t get to be honest,” Killian whispered low enough so only Emma could hear as Anna went about listing what they’d already done. It was a Storybrooke tradition to kiss the old ship’s wheel statue in the park at this festival every year, but no one really knew why that was or how the tradition started. Seeing Killian’s reaction to it had been hilarious because he seemed to be the only rational one in attendance, but even with the weirdness, he ended up complying. Just the thought of his reaction, however, made Emma laugh, and she muffled the giggle by ducking into him and using him to keep the sound quiet.

“Now the only thing left to do is rumble!” Anna announced gleefully.

“Rumble? Like a fight?” Killian asked, his stance tensing ever so slightly as he moved to bring Emma a bit closer. It was a protective action, one that Emma appreciated though it wasn’t actually needed. She clarified for Anna, speaking in terms an outsider could understand.

“Every year we duke it out at the game tents. It’s a big thing – we play every game and whoever ends with the biggest prize wins,” Emma said, and while she saw that Killian was appeased that there wouldn’t actually be physical violence, he was clearly still concerned about the terminology. Elsa, however, chose this time to cut in.

“But one year when we were kids, the orders got messed up for the game prizes. Emma’s Mom ordered normal fair things like stuffed animals and blow up toys and instead the town got five hundred fake WWE championship belts.”

“You’re kidding,” Killian said, not believing it at all, but then he looked at Emma and his eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Oh yeah,” Emma replied. “And, never one to let the unexpected cramp her style, Mom really leaned in. Most of us didn’t know anything about professional wrestling -,”

“Heck we still don’t,” Elsa interrupted with a laugh as Emma smiled.

“But all the adults made a really big effort to make it cool for one night so that we wouldn’t be disappointed when all we got was a belt.” Killian’s eyes softened at that and he nodded, silently acknowledging how touching and fun that must have been.

“So to honor that night – and to honor Emma’s Dad’s job, which was just to keep yelling ‘Let’s get ready to rumble!’ the whole time – we call this the rumble.”

The laugh Killian let loose at the story prompted Emma and her friends to laugh as well. It was, after all, a very funny thing, and Emma could still remember her Dad that night. He knew nothing about wrestling, except for some old catch phrase, but he’d done everything in his power to see them all enjoy themselves, and he had definitely succeeded.

“Well, I might not be the best, seeing as I haven’t been to a fair in… I couldn’t even say how long,” Killian admitted. “But if it’s a rumble we’re having, then I’m in.”

“Great!” Anna said gleefully, and her tone was so chipper it spoke to some kind of scheming. Before Emma could rein her in though, she was already presenting her thoughts. “So I’m thinking you versus Elsa. You fight for Emma, Elsa fights for me, winner gets the better unicorn plushie at the end of this.”

“Anna,” Emma said, not even knowing how to proceed. She wanted to tell her friend that was silly and that she didn’t need Killian to prove himself with some dumb fair games, but then he squeezed her hand and she looked back at his smiling face.

“If you’re okay with cheering me on, I think I’ve got this, love.” How could she say no to that? Between the handsome face and the hot as hell accent, lilting in that heated way she loved so dearly, she was helpless to do anything but accept.

From there, a truly impressive ‘rumble’ proceeded. The four of them went to every tent for every game, and it turned out that Elsa and Killian were well matched. Killian, for his part, was excellent at any game requiring strength and precision, while Elsa was amazing at all the games of chance and seeming randomness. She anticipated better than anyone Emma knew, which usually made her the undisputed winner on fair night, but tonight it was neck and neck, until the final game – the ring toss.

“You couldn’t write this better,” Anna said to Emma as they stood off watching Elsa and Killian prepare for the final event.

“Couldn’t write what?” Emma asked, not following.

“The ring toss,” Anna said, matter of factly. Emma blinked, not knowing what her friend was getting at. “Oh come on, Emma. Killian’s going to win you the title with a ring, and it’s only a matter of time before he gives you a very different kind of ring giving you a very different kind of title.”

Realization sunk in after a moment and Emma blushed as she swatted Anna’s arm. “Anna, shh, he’ll hear you.”

“Oh please. That man is in love. L-O-V-E, love,” Anna said in what could best be described as a stage whisper. “There are more than wedding bells in the air, Emma. Don’t think we all can’t see that.”

Emma’s stomach flipped at the thought. It was something that was so out of this world – getting married? That couldn’t possibly be on her radar so soon, and yet it was. This was not the first time she had thought about a future with Killian, and that future, at least the ideal one that her heart liked to surmise about, especially in her dreams, did involve getting married someday. If she were honest with herself, the dreams included that day coming way sooner than it probably should too, but she had never vocalized those wants before and she was worried Killian would hear. For all the good that had blossomed between them these past few weeks, and for as fast as she had grown to love him, Emma couldn’t help feeling like there was one last step to take before the future Anna was hinting at. There was one last wall to conquer – one more thing that lay in their path – and while Emma was working on overcoming it, she wouldn’t rush Killian.

As if he could feel her watching him, Killian chose that moment to glance back at her. She didn’t think that he had heard Anna, but she could feel the intensity of his emotion even from the distance. He was more than clear with his thoughts about her and his care for her, and when he smiled it set the anxiety her friend had just let loose fading away. Emma felt exponentially better, and she offered him her own smile before he turned back to take on the toss.

“I really want this,” Emma whispered, her voice low but her meaning more sincere than nearly any words she’d said aloud before. “I want him.”

“And you have him,” Anna said as she came to take Emma’s hand. “Totally and completely.”

Emma exhaled a deep breath at the words and she smiled again, following Anna’s lead back to Killian and Elsa. They were just about finished with the game. All that was left was one ring on each of their parts. Elsa went first, tossing and almost getting it to stay on the neck of the milk bottle, but it was Killian who was victorious in the end. He cast the ring with a finesse Emma hadn’t expected, and it landed perfectly atop the bottle, making him the victor.

The excitement and the pride that Emma felt in the face of his winning was certifiably over the top. This year’s rumble did not require that she leap into his arms and squeal with the excitement of a kid rather than the woman she was, but Emma didn’t care. She felt so light and free with Killian, and when things were good, she wanted to enjoy how good they really were. Life lived like this was a breath of fresh air, and the cherry on top was when she was back on the ground, still in his arms, and he leaned down to kiss her exactly like the conquering hero did in every romance book she’d ever read.

“Okay, okay we get it. You love each other. No need to give us all a show.”

Anna’s words brought Emma back into the present, and she knew that a blush had crept over her cheeks at the mention of love, but she didn’t back down. Instead she shook her head with feigned censure, and told Anna that she did want a show. If she didn’t she wouldn’t be so nosy all the time.

“Fair point,” Anna confessed with a shrug. “But since I’m turning over a new, more mature leaf, might I suggest hightailing it out of here? A little birdie told me your Mom is like thirty seconds from popping up.”

“Well we could wait…” Killian offered, not wanting to rush Emma, even though he knew by now what her parents’ appearance would mean. They had said hello and spent a little time with them earlier, but a second meeting would no doubt be longer than the first. Her mother would talk both of them to death, and at the same time she’d thoroughly squash the mood that celebratory kiss had just sparked in Emma.

“Or we could save ourselves and run,” Emma said, pulling him along with her as she cast a goodbye over her shoulder to her friends. “Love you guys, see you tomorrow.”

Anna and Elsa waived goodbye after them, and, through some stroke of immense luck, Emma and Killian managed to get out of the fair grounds without being spotted by the leaders of the Nolan clan. The rest of the town certainly saw them, and Emma noticed the looks that each neighbor cast their way. What surprised her though was the softness she saw there – people had largely accepted Killian, and they seemed really happy for the two of them. That acceptance made Emma happy. She didn’t need it, but she was glad for it. It would hopefully make the whole telling him he was the one and convincing him that this was a forever kind of thing that much easier.

“So, now that you’ve gotten me alone, what’s the plan, love?”

Killian’s question rumbled from his chest, washing over Emma with a trickle of seduction. He wasn’t even trying to do anything, but Killian was just too hot for her to fully function. She closed her eyes for a second, grounding herself in this and in him, and then she opened them and told him what she wanted.

“Take me to your place.”

Her request made Killian’s eyes widen, but she knew he wasn’t surprised. Over the last few weeks the heat between them had only been burning hotter and brighter, but despite some kisses that blew her away, and despite the tantalizingly distracting feel of his rough but also gentle touch, Emma and Killian hadn’t taken things to that next step. She’d been ready for it, aching for the chance to be alone with him and make some of her more vivid fantasies real, but Killian had been taking things slowly. Tonight, however, Emma didn’t want slow. She wanted to go all in, and she wanted to now.

“As you wish.”

Emma’s heart thumped loudly in her chest as they walked, hand in hand, from the park where the festivities had been through the town towards his cabin. By the time they reached the woods, Emma’s anticipation was at record levels. Her whole body was swimming with desire, and she could barely contain it. She knew Killian was aware of it too because his jaw had gone hard but his blue eyes were molten every time he looked her way. He seemed seconds away from sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her, and she would have welcomed that, especially in the moment where she got so distracted that her foot caught on a root that was sticking up slightly from the ground below.

Before Emma could hit the earth with a loud and painful thud, Killian had pulled her to him, cradling her in the warm and strong embrace she’d come to love so much. Somehow her back had ended up at his front, but their bodies were aligned perfectly even like this. The breath rushed out of her, and her body had to play catch up for a moment. She had braced herself for a fall, but it simply hadn’t come, and she blinked away the adrenaline before realizing that they were in another stretch of woods she knew very well…

In the moment just before waking, Emma already knew that she was not where she should be. The ground beneath her was hard, though the grass licked lightly at her skin in a soft and pleasing way. The air was too fresh and too pure for her to be at home and in bed, and the smells around her… she was definitely outside, and that meant it had happened again. She’d had the dream, and she’d left the house as she slept, completely unaware of what she was doing.

Blinking until the early morning dawn didn’t hurt her eyes so badly, Emma’s first sight was the canopy of the trees she’d ended up in. They were giant pines, tall and proud and ever growing, and while they would be considered beautiful and tranquil at any other time, right now they spiked only fear in Emma. She was outside again, presumably alone out here in the elements, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

Rising from the ground, Emma noticed how covered she was in dirt. It climbed up her legs from her bare feet, tore at her clothes, and no doubt smudged her face and her neck as it did her hands and arms. She was a mess right now, and the one thing she remembered most from the dream was the howl of a wolf. It was loud, defiant, but also familiar, and Emma could feel it still reverberating through her, as if she herself had made the sound instead of hearing it in a dream.

Making her way through the woods, trying to remain unseen by anyone who might happen to be out at this ungodly hour, Emma tracked back through the dream. The foundations were the same. It started with that night at the hospital. Two wolves – one good, one bad, fighting over her. She was trapped, she was scared, but then she wasn’t. The midnight one seemed to care for her, to protect her, and then the dream would morph. Suddenly she wasn’t in Boston anymore, she was in the woods, these woods.

She also wasn’t Emma anymore at this point, at least not really. Her point of view was too low, her movements so different than if she’d been walking or running on her own. She was aware of so much – too much – and the darkness of the world did nothing to deter her. She could see everything, feel everything, and she was totally in control. She’d made her way through her favorite groves, tracking and running, and then at the end, she’d made it to the river and she looked into the water only to see another wolf. This one was so different – a pale, almost white coat making the beast look amazing and other worldly, and it was this animal that howled, this revelation that pushed her mind from sleep to wake.

Even now, Emma didn’t know what to make of all of this. Why was there a new wolf when she’d been battling familiar ones all this time? And what did it mean that the wolf had been where she had been? Doctor Hopper would call this projection. Emma knew he’d explain it away as more stress, likely over choosing which college she wanted to go to, not that her parents were going to let her go. With all of this happening who could blame them? Emma was crazy, really and truly crazy and there was no hope of her ever being normal or accepted when this was her deep dark secret…

“Emma?” Killian’s concerned voice broke the spell of her remembrance, and Emma shook her head slightly before looking back at him. She could see in his eyes so much love, and suddenly she felt an urge, an urge to tell him something she’d never even told her very best friends. Something her parents knew, but didn’t really know, since she’d kept parts from them and from Archie. It was a moment of truth, one final test, and Emma hoped that maybe it would be the thing he needed to come forward with his own secret.

“I used to have these crazy dreams, right when we got back from Boston,” she began, continuing to walk through the copse of trees towards his cabin with his hand in hers. “They were wild and exhausting. I’d sleep ten hours but feel like I never went to bed. They were all so vivid in the moment too. One second I was living this undeniable double life. It was almost more real than the world I was living in, but when I woke up I’d start to forget. The pieces would slip away, but the feelings still remained. The doctors said it was stress, but I would - I mean I used to… sleep walk.”

Emma expected Killian to ask for more, but when she looked back up at him he remained quiet. His eyes were fixed on her, his expression unreadable, but she felt a silent urging from him for her to continue so she did.

“The walking was tamer at first. I’d wake up in the kitchen or the back yard. Still close to home, but definitely not where I should be. But by the end of my senior year it was bad… really bad. My parents had to lock every door, install an alarm in a town with virtually no crime, and keep an eye out. They took shifts of who would sleep, and sometimes I still got out. I have no idea how, and they didn’t either.”

“And when you got out, where did you go?” Killian asked, his voice even despite the fact that she was telling him this alarming bit of back-story.

“The woods. Always the woods.”

She gave him some more details of those morning memories. They were hard to speak about, mostly because they were so radically out of the norm, and by the time they’d gotten to his house Emma was starting to feel like maybe this was too much. She hadn’t said any of this aloud in so long and it sounded even more bizarre to her now than it did then, but luckily Killian didn’t seem off put in any way. The only thing he could see on her face was concern for her safety and something else that surprised her. It was almost like he didn’t think these dreams were that insane, and she wondered how he could be so calm in the face of something so strange and wild.

“God, Emma, that sounds… frightening and more than a little scary.”

“It was in a way,” Emma admitted. “But it wasn’t where I woke up that scared me, it was the part when I was awake again. I always had this sinking feeling that I was forgetting something, something really important. It was like something wasn’t right in the light of day. Something was really really wrong, and… well I mean it wasn’t. Everything was fine, and then my birthday came, and I don’t know, I felt a lot better suddenly. I was a bit more settled than I had been. The dreams didn’t come as much, and now when they do it’s just a dream. No random relocations thrown in the mix.”

“That’s good to hear,” Killian said, his hands running over her as much for her comfort as for her his own. “I hate to think of you out in the world and without protection. If anything ever happened to you…”

“I’m fine,” Emma promised, trying to convince him that she was in fact all right as they took a seat on his couch. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

Pulling him down for a kiss, Emma was so relieved when Killian kissed her back. He might have felt a bit withdrawn when she’d made the confession about her dreams, but he was with her now in an undeniable way. The only problem was, that when they finally came back for air, the walls had come up again. He was sitting here, holding her close and doing that thing where he subtly protected her from the whole entire world, but she could see the difference and feel it too and it was terrible. She hated it. Simply hated it.

“I shouldn’t have said all that, should I?” Emma asked, her heart hurting in her chest at the realization that she might just have fucked this up. “I messed up.”

“No, Emma. You’re perfect, and I’m glad you told me. Truly I am,” he assured her and Emma smiled at the words, knowing he meant them even if he was still being weird. “You know how I feel about you. In your heart you know, but I haven’t said it aloud yet because… because I’ve been keeping something from you.”

Emma’s heart constricted in her chest even though she had known this was coming. Killian had a secret, something he’d been guarding all this time, and if she knew him as much as she thought she did, it was something he’d probably never told anyone at all. Yet even with the sadness she felt that he had kept something from her, it wasn’t distrust that settled within her. She only wished to help him and to alleviate his pain. Whatever it was, he was so worried and she couldn’t do anything to help until he told her. She moved closer, her hand coming to rest over his heart, which was beating so fast it must be painful, and then she made him a promise she knew he had to hear.

“Whatever it is we can face it together. It’s you and me, okay?”

A moment passed where Killian didn’t say anything. He seemed caught up in something, a memory if she wasn’t mistaken. For a moment it was like he wasn’t there, but Emma instinctively reached out to him, taking his hand. When they touched he was instantly back with her, and his eyes shone bright with a need to be with her.

“You and me, right?”

“Always.”

Hearing him say that made Emma breathe easier. Whatever was happening in his mind right now, there was no hiding the truth, and Killian still wanted this. But as much as she had been willing to give him time before, Emma’s patience had grown frail. She felt like this weight he was carrying was the only thing left between them, and she wanted so badly for him to let it go. If he did they’d be free to just… be, and as strange as that sentiment was, Emma’s instincts told her that they needed that. She knew he wasn’t going anywhere, but whatever secret he was harboring, he needed to share, not just for her sake, but for his as well.

“There’s something about me you don’t know, love. I’m…”

Killian trailed off, and Emma knew that they had finally reached the moment of truth. She had literally no idea where this was going. Killian had kept this guarded for weeks. It was the only part of him she hadn’t had access to, and she needed it even though she felt a tiny bit of fear. Why was he so hung up on this? Was it really so bad? She just wouldn’t know until he said something.

“You’re…” she prompted, her eyes searching his face which was clouded with worry. Then his words came so quickly she almost didn’t hear them.

“I’m a shifter.”

“A shifter,” Emma parroted, and though she didn’t understand what that was, the words came out less as a question than a statement. The term sparked the remembrance she had back at the clinic a few weeks ago, but she shook her head, knowing that couldn’t have been real. It must mean something. Was this a fetish or something? No, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. She’d have sensed that red flag early on. But whatever it was, this part of her, deep down inside was suddenly excited and elated for now explainable reason. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means… actually, it’s probably better if I show you.”

Taking her hand in his Killian brought Emma to sit on the couch in his living room. It was a strange thing to do, but Emma knew it was because whatever this was, it was so big he thought she might fall from the shock of it. Meanwhile the word kept bouncing around in her head. Shifter. Shifter. Shifter. She tried to fathom what this was, and if her old, probably made up memory could be accurate, but then she was distracted by Killian moving back across the room and pulling the shirt he was wearing over his head. Emma was not expecting him to strip down in front of her, and despite this being a very serious moment her eyes honed in on his muscled physique. A thrill coursed through her as more and more of him was revealed, and when he was finally down to just his briefs she found her words.

“Killian, what are you…?”

She trailed off when Killian took a deep, steadying breath and then, well, shifted. Like shifted from a man into a wolf in a split second. It was the craziest thing she’d ever seen. One second he was there, for a fleeting moment there was this transition that happened so quick you would blink and you missed it, and then there was this animal – a huge, black wolf, standing where Killian had just been. The animal was poised and powerful, and then his eyes opened and Emma instantly recognized them and him too.

“Holy shit! Holy shit you’re a wolf!” she said, her voice coming out harsh with the emotion of the realization. “Killian, you’re my wolf! Oh my God Killian, you’re my wolf! The wolf from the alley… the wolf from my dreams…”

Killian let out a low whine in his animal form, and though Emma wasn’t exactly fluent in large, wild canine speak, she knew it was a signal that she was right. It completely amazed her that any of this was happening. Now she knew why Killian had her sit down for this reveal. She was dizzy from the shock of it, but she also had this intrinsic need to get up and be close to him. She was fascinated by his coat and color, by how large his animal was, and of course the fact that he could turn into an animal at all. But before she asked those questions, and before she addressed how the hell any of this was possible, she moved across the room to where he was and hesitantly reached out to touch him.

When her fingers made contact with the warmth of his fur, her whole body filled with the most wonderful feeling. It was somehow more consuming than their first time meeting, and finally she knew that the last piece of the puzzle was solved. This was the secret Killian was hiding. This was the truth he’d had to keep hidden, and God what a beautiful, amazing, and magical truth it was. Emma’s eyes actually misted up at the fierceness of all the she felt, but she kept the tears at bay to try and speak her thoughts aloud.

“I don’t understand how this can be real. You’re a wolf – sorry, a shifter – and you saved me. Back in Boston…”

Now Killian did return to himself and Emma jumped at the transformation, more from surprise than fear. No, there was nothing like fear here at all. She felt completely safe with Killian still, but she hoped he would fill in the blanks so her mind could truly comprehend all she’d just seen.

“Aye, I did, love.” She knew it was him, but it still felt good to hear him say it. So all this time she hadn’t been crazy. There was a wolf, and somehow, someway, he’d found his way back to her.

“Wow. That’s so… crazy,” she said for lack of a better descriptor. “What are the odds?”

“I’d say about one in a billion,” he replied and she laughed, the sound pitched higher than normal from the bevy of emotion. Killian, for his part, stepped closer to her, testing the waters but finding Emma didn’t need any space. She moved towards him too, and reveled in the feel of his arms around hers.

“And you found me again. How did you do that? Did you track me or something?”

“No, Emma. It was all instinct. I had the urge to come to Maine for years now, but I finally gave in after resisting so long. I didn’t realize what we were to each other when we first met, but my wolf knew subconsciously you were out there somewhere in the world, calling to me.”

“And what are we to each other?” She asked with a breathless sense of wonder. She knew that her tone spoke to a true yearning to know, and that she was holding nothing back. Right now she was an open book, but it felt only right since he was just as open with her.

“We’re what’s called fated mates, love. In my world it’s normal. All shifters have their perfect partner, their other half, and you, Emma Nolan, are mine, just as I am yours. Bonds between humans and shifters… well I’ve never heard of one happening, but it could be the reason you had those dreams and felt those things. It could be our bond, just working in more mysterious ways.”

“Oh thank God,” Emma said with genuine relief finally it was Killian’s turn to look confused. He must not understand her thoughts on this, so she tried to explain them. “It’s just I’m totally crazy about you. I wanted you from the first second I saw you and I feel like you’re the one. It’s good to know that’s real. It’s not just my mind playing tricks on me.”

“It’s real,” Killian murmured, his hand coming to cup her cheek, sending a zing of awareness through her already sensitive flesh. “It’s the realest thing I’ve ever known, the surest love that can ever be found.”

“Love?” Emma asked and Killian nodded.

“Love. I love you, Emma. For now and always. For this life and every other, I love you.”

Hearing that was the most remarkable thing that had ever happened to her. Knowing that she and Killian were destined to be together was amazing, but to hear that he loved her… it just filled her so completely with joy that she was at a loss for words. She jumped further into his arms, wrapping herself around him as she kissed him with all the passion that she had. He mirrored those feelings and that desire so perfectly too. They were wholly connected and on the same page and Emma had never felt better in all her life. She was finally alive, finally getting the chance to know the best that happiness had to offer, and she never wanted to let go. But of course, ever the responsible and reasonable one, Killian realized there was still more to be said. Before they could get too carried away, he pulled back, and when she looked at his cerulean eyes, she saw he still had things to explain, things she needed to know.

The story of his life, as a shifter and as a man, came easily then. Killian let it all out, every last part, leaving no detail unaddressed. Emma listened to everything he outlined for her about his past losses and heartaches and his life as a shifter. He talked about the pull of the full moon each month and the mating bond that would come when they finally came together. He talked more about shifter culture and the devotion he’d always have to her and the family they might one day make together. Then he explained how their case was one that he never imagined possible – there were no known cases of shifters and humans being fated pairs, but that didn’t make him any less sure. He showed her his mark and she in turn showed him where hers had appeared, at her hip. She wrote it off as weird reaction to something that would fade away in time, but then she looked at where she’d touched him, and she marveled at their perfect set of markings.

“Wow… just… wow,” Emma said, smiling to herself as she continued to hold onto him. “Wait, you just told me you’re a lone wolf now but you called it something else…”

“A rogue,” Killian replied and he watched as a connection formed in Emma’s mind.

“That’s what Graham called you that day at the diner… oh my God, Graham has to be a shifter, right?”

“A wolf, like me,” Killian confessed, sending Emma’s mind in a dozen directions. How could he have hidden it? Who else knew? Then Killian dropped another bomb she never expected. “He and Tink are the only other shifters in the direct vicinity.”

“Oh my God Tink too?” Emma asked, her eyes widening. “That’s so cool! Is she a wolf also?”

“A lynx,” Killian said, before explaining to Emma that there were dozens of shifter species the world over, some more rare than others.

“I can’t believe you guys manage to keep it a secret…” Emma said, but then her stomach clenched as she thought back to that memory. It had to be real and not a dream like she thought, and that, given everything Killian had said about rules and the council, was not a good thing. “But Killian, I think my parents know. I mean they might… I have this memory of a mountain lion at the clinic and my Mom saying the word so… maybe?”

“I don’t know about your mother, love…” Killian left the rest unsaid.

“But my Dad knows, doesn’t he?” Emma didn’t need to ask. His face said everything, and it also said he felt terrible not coming right out and saying so himself.

“I think it’s best to ask him yourself.”

“God this is all so much. I never imagined this, but somehow I feel like I always knew. Is that normal?”

“It’s our mating bond,” Killian informed her. “It’s strong already, and it will grow even stronger if you choose to be mine in every way.”

“Oh I’m definitely choosing you,” Emma said, completely sure of herself and Killian actually hummed out a sound of approval, that sent waves of pleasure through her. Holy crap, that was hot. Was that a shifter thing? Or just a man who really really wanted her to love him? “I love you, Killian, and I want this. More than anything.”

“That makes two of us, love. But this is fast, especially given human custom. What I’ve told you tonight is a lot to process and I need you to be sure. There’s no going back once a mating bond has been sealed so we can wait as long as you need. The full moon this month is tomorrow, but I would wait forever for you.”

“And if I don’t want to wait?” Emma asked, her heart pounding so loudly at even the thought of mating with him. She wanted it so badly, but she also felt the severity of his words. This was a huge step and an even bigger commitment, and that was something to at least sleep on for one night.

“I will always do everything in my power to see you happy, Emma. You have my word on that.” She nodded, glad for his loyalty and devotion that he made apparent with every word and touch and look he sent her way.

“I think I need to talk to my parents,” Emma confessed after a few moments of internal musing. “Or at least my Dad. But I do want this, Killian. Nothing you told me tonight changes how I feel. I knew that I would love you forever before I knew everything, and I still feel that way. I’ll always feel that way.”

“I trust you, Emma. More than I can say. If you say you’re ready then I’ll believe you, but have a night to think on it. Tomorrow if you feel the same, you will find me and we’ll be together, and if not I’ll still be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Let me guess, this is the part where you say goodnight,” Emma said, sighing in a dramatic way they were both used to by now. He was ever the gentleman, and though she knew they could spend the night together and not go too far, Killian would never dream of attempting such a feat. “There isn’t anything I can say to convince you otherwise is there?”

“Not tonight, love. I know it’s not easy, but it’s how it has to be. I can’t trust myself not to take all I want. I’m only so strong.”

“I get it,” Emma acknowledged. “I don’t love it, but I get it.”

“Soon enough it’ll be tomorrow,” Killian said, but then he tilted his head and adjusted his words. “I lied. It’ll never be soon enough. I want you every second of every day.”

Her heart melted at that and Emma pulled him in for another kiss, this one soft but slow and languid. It was peaceful but resiged, and still she hoped he could feel her love in it, because she really did love him. So so much.

“Until tomorrow then,” Emma said, trying to capture his slight lilt and Killian laughed shaking his head.

“Uh, no, love. If you think I’m letting you walk alone at night you have another think coming. I’ll see you home and safe, just as I always do.”

And with that, the two of them set out back to Emma’s house, where they did, regrettably part ways. But though she had so much more to consider and to talk about with her father, Emma knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that tomorrow they’d come together for real. It was time for them to be one – to be mated as he called it – and as she fell asleep that night, Emma’s dreams were filled with the magic Killian brought into her life, and hopeful visions of what might be when they were truly and totally together at last.

Post-Note: So there we have it – Emma now knows about shifters and true mates and pretty much everything. I have purposefully left some vagueness about how much of Killian’s past he has talked about though, mostly because the flashbacks haven’t revealed it yet. Regardless, next chapter will be important because it’s from Emma’s POV. She is going to confront her father and once she has all the info (which she, and we, definitely do not have) she will make her choice. Hope that you guys enjoyed the chapter and would love to hear your thoughts! Thanks so much for reading and have a great rest of your weekend!

Tag list (if you would like to be added please let me know!): @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @winterbaby89 @teamhook @ultraluckycatnd @artistic-writer @snowbellewells @coliferoncer @allofdafandoms-blog @snarkycaptainswan4 @eastside-divebar

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cannibalisticshadows · 6 years ago

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Doughnuts (A Dear Evil Heaven One-Shot)

Ao3 | FF

Fandom: Megamind

Pair: Megamind/Roxanne

Summary: During this time of year, Megamind always gets a little sad. Roxanne tries to fix that.

It’s the start of December, he notes with disdain, and festivities are running rampant in the streets, colorful lights hanging on houses, sugary food in abundance, calls for charity, the increased “family time”.

It makes his stomach sick.

And so, having barricaded himself in a dark state of mind in his own room, he completely shut out the world entirely. Not even the brainbots were allowed to disturb him.

It ended after a few days when Minion burst through the door and demanded he get out. Why, though, he wondered grimly. He always goes into a hibernation of sorts during this time of year.

“Ms. Ritchi has been calling non-stop,” he said angrily, not at his girlfriend, at him, mind you, “She just called me earlier saying if you came over tonight she’d give you a surprise.”

“Oh, goodie,” he mumbled, running a hand over his stubble. He hadn’t shaved in a while. Instantly he thought of the typical “Christmas Spirit” spiel, but knew Roxanne didn’t celebrate that holiday—though it was also secular, not religious, right? Either way the festive concept gave him seasonal depression.

“Just go, please,” Minion begged. “She’s worried about you, Sir. The only reason, Ms. Ritchi says, that she hasn't come over again to—“

“She came over?”

“Thrice this week! You wouldn’t see her, remember!? The only reason she hasn’t tried to see you today or yesterday is because she’s getting ready for some kind of party.”

He glared.

“No.”

“Yes. Go. Please, Sir. I’d like to go to a holiday cooking class this evening, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone.”

He groaned. “Minion, that happened one time in my childhood.”

“I’m still not taking that chance.”

This went on for ten minutes before Minion, taking matters into his own fins, ordered a pair of bots to take him by the arms and quite literally drag him to Roxanne’s.

Flailing, cursing, and overall hating life, he found himself being thrown on his girlfriend’s balcony in a undignified thud.

The first thing he notices, after pulling himself off the ground (besides being suddenly, painfully aware of his state of dress [loose sweat pants and a tight short-sleeved band top {yes, he wears normal clothes, like a normal person, every once in a while}]), was the smell of confection foods, chocolate, sugar, and—overall baked goods. Secondly, he noticed the starring woman, who was passionate about eating healthy things and banning anything with so much as a gram of sugar, baking these things.

Had he died and gone to heaven?

He must have been standing there for a while, staring at this wee woman who was bustling about in her kitchen, frying balls of dough, it seemed, with the countertops covered in baked goods, because she suddenly froze and turned around, and met his eyes through the glass.

She dropped a pair of tongs and came running over, throwing the glass door open.

“Roxa—ooof!” Her arms were thrown around his abnormally long neck, her face pressed against the side of his head.

“Oh my god, Megamind,” she gasped, then pulled away to look at him. Her hands grasped his shoulders.

“Hi—“ he grasped as she smacked him hard on the chest.

“Do you know how worried I was!?”

“I’m—“

“No, no, don’t explain yourself,” she said. “Minion told me everything. I should be the one who’s sorry. I tried to come over today, but—“

“But…”

“I—just come on in, it’s colder than ice out here. You’ll catch your death.”

Numbly, he let her pull him inside of her deliciously warm apartment. The lights were off in her living room, with the kitchen lights on. The TV was off, with the radio on to some music he immediately recognized as Hebrew, and near the balcony window, which he’s now noticing, is a—

“Is that your—me-nora?”

“Menorah. Yeah.”

It wasn’t terribly eccentric; small and neat, about half a foot tall, with four straight silver-plated branches on either side of one tall branch in the middle. Atop these branches were tiny glass cups. The middle one and three to the right had a bud of a wick, sitting in what seemed to be oil, burned brightly.

“Why aren’t the others lit?”

“It’s the third night,” Roxanne suddenly said, almost awkwardly.

He then remembered this. One new candle each night.

He had missed the other nights with her.

It made him feel--it didn't make him feel very good. Actually, it made him feel like a complete bastard.

“Aah.”

“Come,” she pulled on his hand. “Have a doughnut.”

“I—I’m sorry, but who are you and what have you done to my Roxanne?” He laughed humorlessly because in all seriousness he wasn’t kidding. Roxanne always nagged him when he ate sweets. ”You don’t eat enough as it is! Why put this junk in your body?” Most of the time, anyway. What she didn’t know didn’t kill her, after all. But yet, here she was, offering him—doughnuts. Doughnuts.Which she made.

“Here,” she said, ignoring his statement. She thrust a warm round doughnut into his hands, half wrapped in a napkin, overflowing with powder sugar and leaking red jelly. “Try it.”

“Is this a trap?”

“Eat it.”

He took a bite.

It was scrumptious.

“Okay. Seriously. Who are you?” He asked her through a mouthful of her sweet confection.

“It’s tradition,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Okay,” he said, understanding. “So, why all this…” he gestured to the dozens of treats around them. Not that he was complaining. If this was his “surprise”, well, he was certainly pleasantly surprised. He was already close to finished this superb doughnut. But, even this seemed a little over doing it.

Roxanne threw her head back and groaned, wiping her powdery hands on her flower-printed apron. “So, my co-workers know I’m Jewish now, and asked our new boss, Robbie, if they could do something Hanukkah-themed this season. Somehow it turned into me baking for everyone.”

“Mhmm,” he commented wordlessly, biting into his second doughnut.

“It’s tomorrow,” she stressed, picking up her tongs to place another ball of dough in a popping pan of crumbly oil. “And I just found out from Lucy down in Sports that a group of the managers and their secretaries are coming for this holiday party, and three of them are Jewish, too, so—now I have like fifteen more people to cater too. Do you understand? I’ve been on my feet for hours.”

He was about to answer with an offer of assistance, but she cut him off before he could get out a single syllable. “No, no, don’t listen to my problems. This is about you.” She turned to him. “I came over Monday, but Minion said you were still squirreled away in your room. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

She pursed her lips. “Okay. It’s just—Megamind, you know—“

He tilted his head.

“I love you. I love you very much.”

He licked his lips, feeling his tongue go heavy in his mouth, and his apitite forgotten. “Roxanne…”

“Shh, don’t say anything,” she said in a low voice as if this was some big secret he has vowed to keep. She became very close, all of a sudden, and she placed her little hand on his chest. He forgot how she was near his size, despite her being more—curvy, in areas. Which he very much enjoyed. It distracted him, with her like this. Her hair had grown a bit since last year when they first began this relationship. She had sweated in here (it was hot, actually, in her kitchen), and stings of hair clung to her flushed face. A smudge of powdered sugar stuck to her cheek, and she smelled like a bakery. Her apron hugged her waist like a second skin. Plus it made her chest and derrière look amazing. Megamind didn’t know where to look. He licked his lips again, wondering how he should handle this situation.

She suddenly leaned over and kissed him. It sparked against his skin, his nerves, sending a million signals to his brain. It felt like he was on fire, yet completely flat lining at the same time. This woman!

“I was thinking the other day,” she said critically once she pulled away from the rather chaste mouth-to-mouth, turning around to turn the doughnut over in the oil. “I don’t really give you enough attention.”

This brought him to the right state of mind immediately. “What? Of course you do!”

“No, I mean—This past year, it’s felt like—the spotlight’s been on me? Sort of? And I—I well, I wanted to do something for you.”

He wasn’t sure what she was talking about; until he began to withdraw from the world in general at the start of winter, they spent most of their time together. Enough so that he actually—he feels unnecessarily giddy—met her parents (again), and her brother, and that was—an interesting experience. Either way they were joined at the joint (is that how people say it?)? What was all of this, then?

He wiped his powdery blue hands down the front of his shirt, having finished his third treat.

Suddenly, Roxanne reached behind her and untied her apron. He stood there, confused and feeling, absurdly, oddly excited at her undressing. They’re usually very innocent in all their physical trysts, but—she’s dropping the apron to the floor, and she’s—and—she’s wearing a white short-sleeved blouse, with a little oil stain on the turned-up collar, and sugar sprinkles, a jelly smudge, and—and she’s beautiful, he realizes in his rattled, dead brain, standing there like the sacrificial lamb. A blue knee-ledge skirt, too, but—

She’s taking his hand and placing it on her left breast.

!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

“Not tonight, Megamind, but soon.”

“Soon…”

“Yes. Soon.”

He gulped.

“I—“

In the back of his alien brain, he knew she was trying to tell him something, because her hand was over his, which was over her clothed breast, but there was some annoying Christmas music playing in the distance. It wasn’t coming from Roxanne’s radio, that was playing very soft instrumental Jewish music, but from somewhere in the building. His ears were stronger than Roxanne’s, so—

It must have gotten louder, enough for her to hear because she’s perking up, and—

“Oh, shit,” his girlfriend curses, pulling away from him. “I told them not to come until eight!”

His internal clock made him say, “It’s eight fifteen.”

“Oh no!” She whipped around and grabbed her tongs, pulling the doughnuts out of the boiling oil and onto a plate covered in several paper towel strips. “Megamind! Quick, put most of these in the boxes,” she motioned toward a stack of doughnut boxes on her breakfast bar. “Hurry!”

Momentarily panicking, because, really, he had no idea what was happening, Megamind just went with it and starting packing doughnuts like it was life or death. Whatever made Roxanne happy!

The music was getting closer, and now he could tell it wasn’t just any Christmas music, but blasting notes of “Santa Clause is Coming to Town,” at the same time as “Hanukkah Oh Hanukkah,” turning up on what must of been the highest volume. To him, it hurt his ears. As it became louder and louder, he heard the familiar sounds of teenagers and children, stomping down the hallway of Roxanne’s floor.

“They’re here,” Roxanne cried, rapidly trying to stuff the doughnuts into the boxes, as if this band of holiday horrors coming their way would burn them alive if they saw these treats on the premises.

“Who’s here?!”

Before she could answer, the door was banged up on a pair of several fists. “MISS RITCHIIII,” yelled a young man. “SANTA IS HEEERRREEE.”

“Shit,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. After packing the last doughnut, she took the boxes and put them into the cabinet, stacking them neatly on the floor. “Whatever you do, make sure they don’t see these. They’re for work.”

“O-kay…”

She got up and ran to her currently-being-abused door. When she threw it open, he scowled.

“Mickey, what the hell are you doing here?” He demanded, sliding up next to Roxanne. In the doorway stood a gang of loud, obnoxious young people, varying in age and skin tones. Mickey, the leader of sorts of this group, was a tall African boy from Kenya. Michael Otieno had moved to America as a young child, and having been orphaned shortly after arrival, and speaking not a lick of English at the time, he was completely lost and alone. It was not surprising Megamind saw a kindred spirit in that, and temporarily kept him under his wing for a while until he placed him in a group home that he will never, ever admit to founding. Now, Mickey was nineteen and a complete pain in his ass.

“I’m the black Santa Clause,” he shouted, storming in with the rest of his gang—all of whom he knew. All of them were bobbing and dancing to a mix of holiday music, wearing the most hideous sweaters he had ever seen. “And it’s bloody Christmas time. Hohoho, bitches!” He wore a big red suit and white beard, caring a big burlap sack with dubious objects inside.

“Happy Holidays, Mr. Megamind, Ms. Ritchi!” A girl in an equally ugly Hanukkah sweater, swearing flashing blue sunglasses and little dreidel earrings, greeted and hugged his girlfriend. He knew her as Rebecca Heys. She was an orphan too, plucked out of an abusive foster home when she was eleven. That was five years ago. “Are we too late?”

Beside Rebecca was a young couple, Missy and Paula, who he more or less, accidentally, put together, when he learned Missy (at the time, she’d had near-crippling depression) had the same interests as Paula. So he introduced the two and hoped it worked out. Wasn’t that how friends were made? And friends—help each other? He came back a week later to accidentally walk in on them making out. Paula rubs her hands together and says, “If we’re late, we’re fashionably late.”

“Yes, you’re right on time,” Roxanne laughed, clasping her hands. The gang of teenagers clobbered together as they began to set up—a party? He sneered as they pulled out cookies and sweets, confetti and even louder music. Mickey gave him a rather tight bear hug, which he made a great feat as to not respond. They all smelled like coffee and cocoa.

“We’re here to show you guys the time of your fricken’ lives,” Fox, a lanky ginger-haired teen said, dropping a bowl of popcorn on the counter. “And damn does it smell like the Pillsbury doughboy's asshole in here.”

“Oh my god it totally does,” William, an African-American fourteen-year-old said. He was wearing a Kwanzaa sweater.

“And it’s so fucking warm in here!” Mickey commented.

“It’s colder than my mom’s tits outside,” Freddy, another kid from the group home pipped up, slamming a jar of what seemed to be egg-nog on the table.

“Language,” Roxanne reminded. “And that better be alcohol-free!” She said, directing the boys and girls to the dining room. “Megamind,” she said to him, voice raised to be heard over the chaos, yet quiet enough for him to only hear. “This is for you.”

“What? Why? You know how I feel about this stuff.”

“It’s not about that,” she said, shaking her head, “You’ve been inside for ten days.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“Yes it has,” she crossed her arms. “I’m reminding you that people love you. And for the rest of this month, I want to find you here. With me.”

He pursed his lips.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll play.”

“Hohoho,” Mickey said again stomping up to him with his big sack. He dropped it at his feet. Megamind stared at it as if poisonous snakes would slither out.

“They're presents!” Missy said, giving him a hug. “From all of us!” All of them gathered to see his reaction. Instantly, he felt on edge.

“Uh—“ he didn’t really know how to respond. Presents? For him?

“Who’s hungry?” Roxanne interrupted him before he could make a bigger idiot of himself. She came up behind him with a big tray of fruits and candies. Where did that come from?

“Food!” Someone shouted, as a couple of them came storming over.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered to him. “I’ve got your back. Now, make sure they don’t find the—“

“FFFFFFUCKING DOUGHNUTS,” someone yelled, and the loud whoop from the whole gang sounded, followed by them all grabbing a dozen of the confections from her cabinet.

“Crap.”

~.~.~.~

Three hours later, over half of his “children”, as they all called themselves, left Roxanne’s apartment. Luckily they all were good enough to clean up after themselves, and not much was needed to be done once the party was over. Rebecca was with Roxanne near her menorah, and the older of the two women was directing the younger in the lightning. Now two menorahs burned brightly in the window. Rebecca’s cat menorah had wax candles, whereas Roxanne’s was oil. Beside them were Paula and Missy, who sipped on some fruity tea Roxanne gave out.

“It’s nice, you know,” Mickey said, sitting beside him on the couch, watching the women. “The Holidays.”

“I suppose,” he answered, tired. The festivity had been nice. And to be honest, he’d choked down three more doughnuts, much to Roxanne’s distress. At Megamind feet was the sack of presents—some bought, others handmade, and at least a dozen cards with holiday sentiments in his (sometimes with Roxanne as well) honor. He didn’t know how to process all of this, but the kids got excited when he examined each item. He particularly liked the miniature figure of himself. Very handsome. That was made by Rebecca.

“Hey man,” his couch-companion said, making him turn away from his girlfriend to the boy beside him. “I know you hate this time of year.”

“Oh?”

“You never do anything for the holidays. Not even before.”

“Before?”

“Ya know,” Missy suddenly said, appearing before them. Her arm was thrown around Paula’s neck, smiling cheekily. “When you were all ’I’m going to rule the world!’”

He scoffed. “I wanted Metrocity. Not the world. That’s too much trouble. And I have Metrocity!”

“Yeah, sure,” the boy laughed. “Just—I’m glad to see you, old man. It’s been a while.”

“Like, three whole weeks,” Paula said as if it was the end of the world. “We never see you anymore.”

“Hm.” Megamind wouldn’t admit it, but it was good to see them all too.

“Come over moooore,” Mickey whined like he wasn’t practically an adult.

“I’ll put it on my to-do list.”

“And treat her right,” one of the girls said, tilting her head to Roxanne. “She’s a good woman. She came up to us at the house and asked if we could come over and cheer you up.”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you children around.”

Mickey punched him in the shoulder. “See? Knew you loved us.”

Megamind smiled behind his hand.

“Oh! And nice beard by the way.”

~.~.~.~

Missy, Paula, and Mickey had finally gone home, leaving behind a sound-asleep Rebecca on the couch. He wasn’t against the idea of housing orphans (he’d cut his hand off before admitting), but he knew Rebecca was good and safe at the group home (he made sure of it). Megamind just—kind of wanted to be with Roxanne. Alone.

“She’s never really celebrated Hanukkah before,” Roxanne said, handing him an over-sized t-shirt. “This was the first time she’s lit candles.”

“Really?” she commented, pulling off his over top to pull the new one on.

“Is it—alright if I teach her a few things? I don’t think she could ask me enough questions.”

He twisted his face up in confusion. “Why would I be against it?”

“I don’t know. Yeah, that was kind of a stupid question. It’s just—you’re like these kids father. You're a daddy.” It was probably extremely perverted, but he found instant gratification when she more or less called him daddy.

“I am the daddy.”

She shot him a look, but she was smiling.

It was late. Very late. Late enough that Roxanne ordered Chinese for them and the kids, and watched a Christmas movie called How The Grinch Stole Christmas, and then a Jewish movie called The Frisco Kid, with an actor Mickey said was, “Willy Wonka”.

“And Michael’s so sweet,” she said, washing some bowels and plates in the skin. He stood by, drying them off. “You never told me you practically raised him!”

“That’s because I didn’t.”

“Pish,” she brushed it off. “That boy’s just like you. Big heart and big brain.”

“My heart is a dried up grape,” he barked evilly, chuckling when it made her laugh.

“I doubt that,” Roxanne said, putting away the last of the dishes. “If it was, would you be affected by this?”

“Wh—“

She slid up to him until her form was pressed against his. She's always so warm, and her curves so, so, so soft. Uuuuugh. He sucked in a breath, his mouth dry despite the three mugs of egg-nog he drank. “Why, Ms. Ritchi, there’s a child sleeping in the next room.”

“She’s sixteen.”

“A child.”

Roxanne sniggered and laughed against the sensitive skin of his neck. She kissed him behind his ear, hugging him tightly. He gasped again, fighting the urge to grab her rear end.

“Now… I need to make more doughnuts. They ate two dozen and a half.”

“Hmm.”

“Help me,” she asked, giving him a pouty smile. “It’ll be fun.”

“Only if I can have some.”

“Fine. One more.” She rolled her eyes and turned around, swaying her hips together, side to side, side to side, as she walked over to the cabinet. He felt a shameful amount of blood rush to his nether regions.

It was then, he noted, he wasn’t in the same state of mind he was in when he first got here.

Maybe the holidays weren’t so bad after all.

#megamind #megamind x roxanne #jewish roxanne #Hanukkah #Christmas #Holidays #happy holidays #!!#Dear evil heaven verse

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codename-bewareofthefangirl · 7 years ago

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Hell Mission III

Hello dears!

Right now, I’m having a hard time, both my mind and life want to make things difficult for me. This is why I needed some IwaOi, I know this ff is not very popular, but I really enjoy writing it, so please bear with me and my selfish needs :3 I think this turned out pretty well and I’m very excited for the next one, I’m planning a wonderful scene *.*

I hope you enjoy this,

Have a wonderful day, dears!

Chapter: 1, 2

Iwaoi FF, SecretAgent!Iwaizumi x ProPlayer!Oikawa

Hell Mission III: Fitting

Iwaizumi shouldn’t have been surprised that, as predicted, he had underestimated Oikawa.

But, to be honest, that level of pettiness was something he had never seen before.

He had been right: Oikawa had decided to be shitty and petty to avenge the offend of having been knocked unconscious.

“…and he nearly begged me to let him take a photo of me, he was so desperate I couldn’t refuse him,” Oikawa told his female fan club, who giggled and awed loudly, shamefully staring at Iwaizumi.

The secret agent clenched his jaw so hard he could hear the teeth cracking, but managed to remain impassible. And red, but thankfully that could be interpreted as bashfulness -fitting Oikawa’ story- and not to the murderous rage he was feeling.

“He stumbled when I took his hand for the first time!”

For a second, that morning, Iwaizumi had naively believed that Oikawa would have punished him with the silent treatment, since he hadn’t spoken one word to the raven while they prepared and walked to the dining room, but, unfortunately, the brunet was only waiting for the right scenario to fulfill his revenge: Embarrass Iwaizumi in every way possible.

“His cuteness is captivating, I swear, I know right now he is being shy,” Oikawa continued, completely draped over the boy sitting next to him, “But he’s the softest, most tender and attentive guy I’ve ever accepted to date. Right, Hiri-chan?” he asked, artfully tilting his head to meet Iwaizumi’s eyes.

“Right…” he hissed through gritted teeth, but luckily the ladies were too busy squealing to hear his growl, in clear contrast with the rosy image of the shy fan, completely head over heels for the great Oikawa, that the brunet himself had depicted until now.

Oikawa’s fake, soft gaze sharpened, and he smirked satisfied. He tightened his grip on Iwaizumi’s neck and straightened to move closer to his ear.

“Come on, Hiri-chan, treat me right or you’ll blow up our cover,” he purred slyly, and Iwaizumi felt his self-control cracking.

He put a hand behind the brunet’s nape and pulled him closer until his lips were brushing again the delicate skin of Oikawa’s ear.

“Don’t tempt me, Shittykawa,” he growled lowly, sending shivers down his spine, “I’m already thinking of letting them have your sorry ass…”

The girls squealed loudly, and Oikawa jerked back.

Iwaizumi noticed a faint blush on his cheeks as he pouted annoyed, and smirked satisfied. The pretty boy wanted to play with fire? He was fucking ready.

“Not professional,” the brunet hissed under his breath, making sure to plant his chin with all his strength in Iwaizumi’s chest as he hugged him again.

The agent grimaced for a fraction of second, but retaliated by wrapping an arm around his waist and pinching his side. Oikawa muffled a yelp.

“You’re so lovey-dovey…” a lady sighed happily, gazing at them.

“You can’t even imagine…” the two muttered in unison, faking a polite smile.

Their public cheered joyfully and started again with the questions.

“Have you kissed yet?” one asked ravenously.

Oikawa lighted up and the agent knew he was going to regret not smacking his head against the table before he could answer.

“Not yet!” He chirped, before winking at them, “You know, virgins like to take it slow…”

The girls shrilled.

“So pure, Iwaizumi-san,” Akaashi smirked in his ear. Bokuto and Kuroo were cackling like hysterical hyenas in the background.

Iwaizumi swore that, in one way or another, he would have made Oikawa Tooru pay.

“Eh, Hiri-chan?” Oikawa grinned mischievously, “Do you want me to go with you even to the bathroom?”

Iwaizumi didn’t bother answering and continued dragging the boy towards the restroom.

“Akaashi, is it free?”

“Yes, it is.” The other agent wisely decided to avoid commenting the course of action of his teammate, clearly on the verge of exploding.

“Good.”

Iwaizumi kicked the door opened, threw Oikawa inside, slammed it closed and roughly pushed the brunet against the wall.

“I’ve had enough,” he growled with pure, cold rage, as he banged the hands at the sides of his head.

The other man stared at him with wide eyes. Leaving alone the fact that the agent pining him to the wall, caught in his fury, was annoyingly hot and Oikawa felt weak, he may had been aware that maybe he had exaggerated a little. Especially if taking into account that Hiri-chan was probably capable of snap his neck in two. However, he was still offended by the treatment of the night before, especially after the nice let’s-open-to-each-other moment they’d had. So, fuck it, he wasn’t going to take the first step back.

“Of what?” he asked, faking indifference. He crossed his arms and gave him a mighty glance; Oikawa didn’t want him to see even an ounce of his fear.

“You’ve had your little revenge and embarrassed me all morning,” Iwaizumi spoke slowly and calmly, and somehow it was even scarier than if he had started screaming, “Now, stop it. I’m working and you’re exaggerating. I can’t allow it.”

Oikawa frowned, “Or what? You’ll hit me?” he hissed.

Iwaizumi slammed again his hand against the wall and Oikawa quivered.

“Stop being an idiot! There’s no way I would hit you for real! Even if you make it sound like a wonderful idea,” he roared, glaring daggers at the boy.

“Well, you already did!” Oikawa argued, clenching his jaw.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, “I put you to sleep because I had to work.”

“I didn’t want to! And I’m not a child!” Oikawa’s voice trembled with repressed anger, the hurt was visible in his eyes.

“You promised to do what I say,” Iwaizumi observed more calmly. He was starting to realize what had really ticked off the brunet and was willing to settle things peacefully instead of using force.

At his words, Oikawa scowled harder, but the flames in his eyes dimmed.

“There was no need to hit me…” he repeated stubbornly.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath and mustered all his self-control.

“Oikawa, I’m not treating you like a child. I’m treating you like a person I have to protect,” he explained softening his rough tone, “If you can’t follow my instructions, it can be dangerous for yours and my safety. I need you to behave in cases of need, you can’t get in the way of my job.”

That…that stung.

The brunet deflated and lowered his eyes; Iwaizumi could see his remorse in the way he bit his bottom lip or averted his eyes.

“Oikawa?”

The brunet scrunched his nose and clenched his fists, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to…get in the way of your job.”

Iwaizumi finally relaxed and felt all his anger and stress vanish. With the shadow of a smile on the lips, he gently ruffled his soft locks.

“I’m sorry too, for reacting too harshly, I didn’t want you to feel belittled” he apologized in a murmur.

Oikawa’s head perked up and his mouth curved into a surprised “o”.

“I-it’s okay…” he stuttered, taken aback by Iwaizumi’s apology.

The raven was relieved to see that any trace of fury or hurt seemed, for now, to have disappeared from his doe eyes; mirth suited them better and-

“Holy shit! He’s just apologized!” Bokuto’s voice pierced his eardrum.

“He liiiiiiikes him.”

“I ship it!”

“Fuck!” Iwaizumi frowned, “Shut up!”

“What?” Oikawa blurted, shocked.

“Ah, not you.”

“Nice kabedon, Iwa~” Kuroo chuckled, “Very sexy.”

Iwaizumi jerked back from that ambiguous position as if the wall had caught on fire, his cheeks red with embarrassment. He was so busy cursing and insulting his friends, that he completely missed the way Oikawa pouted at his move.

Now that they were having a nice moment and the agent was smiling, there his friends ruined- Wait, his friends?

Oikawa’s eyes sparkled as he threw himself over Iwaizumi.

“Are they your friends? Your teammates?” he asked curiously, before leaning against his ear, “HELLO FRIENDS OF HIRI-CHAN!”

“FUCK OIKAWA!” Iwaizumi yelled, shoving him off. He had pierced his eardrum!

“CAN YOU HEAR ME?!”

“Yes, they can! Don’t scream! Fuck!”

Kuroo and Bokuto were laughing so loudly they risked suffocation.

“Hiri-chan! I am a genius!” Kuroo cackled.

“Can we adopt him?”

“Obviously we can adopt him’”

“Motherfuckers…” Iwaizumi, growled, trying to keep the brunet at distance.

“IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU! HIRI-CHAN IS VERY GRUMPY!”

“Damn Oikawa!” Iwaizumi smacked his head, “Where’s Silver?”

“He had a check to do and left us here!

“Fantastic.”

“Hiri-chan! Let me talk with them!” Oikawa whined, pulling his arm, but the man flicked his forehead.

“No way!”

“But Hiri-chan!”

“Don’t be a pest Shittikawa, I already told you they can hear you anyway.”

Oikawa beamed happily.

“Oh my God. Flirting with a boy in front of your mother!” Kuroo faked an outraged gasp, “You don’t have any sense decency.”

“You’re disgusting!” Iwaizumi grimaced.

“I’m not disgusting!” Oikawa pouted.

“Damn! Not you!” Iwaizumi panicked, “Fuck you Black…” hissed under his breath as the other agent laughed loudly.

“Can you tell Oikawa I say hi?” Bokuto meddled, “And that I’m his fan! I’d love to hit his tosses!”

“No, Golden,” he replied sternly, but the other man let out a high-pitched screech. Akaashi called that the “owl cry” and Bokuto used it to whine when he wanted something. And the only way to shut him up was surrendering or knock him unconscious.

“I’ll kill you!” Iwaizumi growled, but the other kept producing that hellish sound, “Okay! Okay! Fine! Stop!”

Oikawa was observing him amused, maybe slightly perplexed. And curious, incredibly curious. There it was another nuance of the secret agent whose job was protecting his life, a man he didn’t know nothing about. Nothing, but he wanted to know so bad. So, so bad.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi, pinching the bridge of his nose out of exasperation, cleared his throat, “My…stupid friend, Golden, says hi.”

Oikawa snorted, hiding his mouth.

“Hi?”

“IWAAAAAAA”

“And that he’s your fan and would gladly hit your tosses,” he added, and the man stopped yelling his name.

Oikawa smiled warmly.

“Thank you, Golden-san! I’d love to play with you as well!” He assured, waving his hand a bit unsure, not knowing if they could see him or not.

“There,” Iwaizumi grunted, crossing his arms, “Happy now?”

“YES!”

“I really want this guy with us,” Kuroo added, “Please, marry him.”

“YES PLEASE. IT WOULD BE GREAT!”

“Iwaizumi, don’t disappoint us.”

Iwaizumi hid his eyes behind the palm. He couldn’t survive their stupidity.

Luckily, Akaashi arrived to save him from that torture.

“Move!”

“Com’on Akas-”

“Koutarou. Now.” Startled by the sudden seriousness, Iwaizumi could hear Bokuto literally pushing Kuroo on the ground to make space for his boyfriend. The boy crashed into his chair and grabbed the microphone to talk with Iwaizumi, that had already tensed up.

“Iwaizumi, they’re on the move. The group is agitated. We’ve heard rumors, it seems they have one of theirs infiltrated as a guest too.”

Oikawa observed the abrupt change of expression on Iwaizumi’s face and felt his blood freezing. He knew what it meant, the furrowed brows, the clenched jaw, and the burning eyes…he knew.

They were coming.

“Don’t leave him alone, at any cost. I’ll send Black and Golden to guard the perimeter, but we can’t do anything for the one inside. He’s yours.”

“Don’t worry,” Iwaizumi replied icily, “He won’t be able to touch Oikawa.”

Shivers ran down the brunet’s spine at the mention of his name in that tone of voice and, for a second, he even forgot the imminent threat. The secret agent in front of him was the only thing filling his thoughts. He was so screwed he was sort of high-school-first-crush pathetic.

They exchanged some more information before Iwaizumi cut off the communications. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, as he molded the tense expression in a relaxed one.

“Come on,” he told Oikawa, “We’ve to return to the party.”

“They’re coming,” the other replied, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves. He would have liked to hide the trembling in his voice, but they were talking about Yakuza. Yakuza. He would have been a fool if he hadn’t been scared.

Oikawa was a fighter, he never backed down, he never bowed. On the court, he was a force to reckon. But he was also a twenty-four guy who still had a lot of dreams to fulfill and experiences to live before dying. He was, simply put, not ready to say goodbye. Not yet.

Iwaizumi’s green eyes softened, and he walked to the man, gently taking his hand.

“I already told you, Shittykawa, until I’m here, nobody will hurt you,” he reassured him in a murmur, making sure to meet his gaze, “I’ll protect you, okay? I’ll protect you. Don’t worry.”

Oikawa swallowed, but the determination in the agent’s eyes didn’t leave space for doubts, so he nodded and squeezed his hand back.

“I don’t want to die…” he admitted in a small, frail whisper. His brown eyes were blown wide and for only a moment he let all his walls fall, he let him in, with the hope of finding someone ready to keep his pieces together.

And Iwaizumi was there, with the steel resolution and adamant will to protect Oikawa.

“You won’t,” Iwaizumi eyes burned with fierce determination, “I won’t let you die. Never.”

“Can you promise me?”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi replied without batting an eyelash, brushing away the chestnut locks from his eyes and lingering with the fingers on his skin, “I’ll keep you safe, they won’t get near you and in two weeks you’ll be fighting on your favorite court again, perfectly unharmed. I can promise it over my life.”

Oikawa stretched a weak smile, “You really like your job,” he joked, mourning the loss of contact when Iwaizumi retracted the hand from his head.

But Iwaizumi tilted the head and his forehead creased.

“It’s not just my job,” he said slowly, swallowing his common sense, but he had never liked lying and he wanted at least for Oikawa to know that, “I truly want to keep you safe. So, please, don’t do anything stupid and let me protect you.”

The brunet stared at him as his cheeks caught fire.

“F-fine…” he stuttered, suddenly looking at the floor, “But please don’t die on me. I could never live with that regret!”

The agent scoffed, “Don’t worry, I’m tougher than what I look like, I’m not an alpha agent for nothing,” he assured confidently.

Oikawa let out a nervous chuckle, “And I thought I was the egocentric one.”

Iwaizumi shrugged, “That’s probably why they’ve assigned you to me,” joked, making the other grin.

They fell again in silence and Iwaizumi waited for Oikawa to find his composure; he observed quietly how the boy stabilized his own breaths and cleaned his expression from any sign of fear.

“Are you ready?” Iwaizumi asked softly.

Oikawa grimaced, “Can’t we lock ourselves in my room?”

“I’m afraid not,” the other chuckled.

The raven offered a small smile and hooked their arms together, pulling slowly Oikawa out of the restroom. He didn’t say a single word about how Oikawa held tight on him nor about the way his voice was slightly higher when he spoke again, and the brunet appreciated it from the bottom of his heart.

“You know what awaits us now, Hiri-chan?” Oikawa whispered in his ear, “Forgetting the whole avoid-getting-murdered thing, obviously.”

The man snorted, “What?”

“It’s time for the official photos together!”

“Oh hell.”

An hour later, they were in the garden with all the other guests, getting bombarded with photos. Oikawa was a natural, he looked good in every photo and didn’t seem tired of it no matter how many times he was asked to pose for. Iwaizumi, on the other side, felt like dying. He was stiff and his smile just a shadow, not used to being photographed; all the professionals hired to capture the happiness of the guests looked at him with pity or frustration.

Luckily, the news about their relationship had spread like fire, so everyone knew about Iwaizumi and allowed him to follow Oikawa or be in the photos with him without many questions; not that he would have accepted a different arrangement after Akaashi’s warning. He refused to leave the man’ side at any cost.

It happened in a second, while they were talking during a break; Oikawa was poking fun at him for drinking juice like a child instead of wine -not that Iwaizumi had a choice, he was on duty – and Iwaizumi was replying with some jokes about Oikawa’s childish behavior.

The brunet suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders; he caught Iwaizumi mid-laugh as he chirped “Cheese!”, and he had just the time to turn his eyes to the camera before the flash blinded him.

Oikawa let out a thrill of joy and rushed to the man who held an old Polaroid, while Iwaizumi rubbed his eyes, deeply confused about what had just happened.

“Oi Oikawa!”

But the man didn’t answer, staring with wide eyes full of stars at the photo in his hands. Hypnotized, in a total, blissful awe.

Frowning, Iwaizumi reached him and peeked over his shoulder.

At first, he was too busy gazing at Oikawa’s wide and genuine smile, with shining and mirthful eyes, to notice what had captured Oikawa’s heart; then, he realized he was laughing. Since Oikawa had moved suddenly, the Iwaizumi in the photo was still laughing, the eyes were glinting and his lopsided smile was bright and adorned with dimples that had stolen Oikawa’s breath.

It was a photo of them, being happy together.

“I love it,” Oikawa whispered, tracing their profile with a finger, “Can I keep it?” He raised his eyes to Iwaizumi, hopefully. The agent had already informed him that, after the mission, all the photos of him were going to be deleted.

“Please, I beg you,” Oikawa prayed, biting nervously then inside of his cheek.

Iwaizumi was still staring at them, as surprised as the brunet had been, because…he seemed happy. He didn’t have many photos of himself being genuinely happy, with a proper smile. Yet, there he was, hugging a beautiful man and laughing with him as a match made by heaven. Damn, he didn’t like to brag nor he thought highly of himself, but he couldn’t avoid thinking they looked good together; not only from an aesthetical point of view, but it was the way their gaze met and their bodies latched to each other.

It was absurd seeing it from outside, he could have never imagined they could look like that. Now, he partially understood Oikawa’s fangirls excitement that morning.

Iwaizumi felt, for the first time, the scary, thrilling sensation of fitting together with another person. He fitted with Oikawa. Maybe he was just being delusional, but the longer he watched it, the stronger he felt it. They matched. They should have been like that, he wanted that.

“Hiri-chan?”

Iwaizumi snapped back from his thoughts and shook his head.

“Ah? You…can, but you’ve to promise to never show it to anyone, anyone. Or I’ll personally burn it,” he replied roughly, averting his eyes. Because yes, they fitted and yes, Iwaizumi wanted that, but the truth was he was just working as Oikawa’s bodyguard and soon everything would end. They lived in different worlds that weren’t meant to mix.

Okawa deflated a little at his sudden scowl, believing that Iwaizumi was angry for having been forced to take another photo; probably, after the end of that week, it was going to be a mess deleting all those pieces of evidence of his existence. But Oikawa needed that, he needed a proof of those days, a proof that the agent had been with him and protected him. A memory, something to look at and remember what it felt fitting together with another person, clicking like they were made to be side by side from the start; even if he couldn’t have the man, he could at least have the physical memory.

“Oikawa-san! Please come!” A man interrupted their shared, painful silence and literally dragged him away toward the center of the garden, for the final photos with the other important guests. Iwaizumi followed him like a shadow and waited near the photographer, his eyes glued to Oikawa, bearing such an intensity that the brunet could feel his cheeks reddening.

He sighed, as he was pulled into a group hug by the others.

“I just want to tell him…” he thought, glancing at the raven, “I just want to have a chance.”

“Alright! It’s the end, for today!”

Oikawa was walking toward Iwaizumi, who was waiting patiently while scanning the surrounding, when his phone vibrated, distracting him. Curious about the sudden text, he slowed down and quickly unlocked it. Maybe it was Suga.

Ah, the sender was unknown.

He opened it.

His eyes widened, his heart halted, and his mind shattered.

“Don’t say a word or your boyfriend dies. Don’t call for help, don’t scream, don’t panic. Do what I tell you or we shoot him.”

Next >

Buy Me A Flower / Ko-Fi

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chocolatequeennk · 7 years ago

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A Lot Like Christmas, 2/2

The Doctor finds Rose decorating for Christmas, and decides to give her the best Christmas she’s ever had.

This is for @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas, using the words, “snowflake, bells, and mittens.” This is part of my personal 31 Days of Ficmas. It was inspired by the BBC Christmas Ident in 2009.

This is part of As Time Goes By, my series following the canon progression between the Doctor and Rose in a series of hugs and kisses. (Though we’re decidedly off canon now, as this is post Doomsday fixit.) It follows Worth It.

It also contains quotes from “T’was the Night Before Christmas” by Clement Moore.

AO3 | FF | Ch 1

A scarf fluttered around the Doctor’s neck as he twirled around the console, setting the coordinates for the mystery trip he’d announced at breakfast. Rose swung her legs off the edge of the jump seat and shook her head at his exuberance. His side of the bond shimmered with delight, and she smiled automatically in response.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked, eyeing the earmuffs he wore as she pulled on a pair of warm, woollen mittens. The TARDIS had encouraged her to dress warmly today, and clearly, the ship knew what she was talking about.

“Oh, just wait a few minutes and you’ll see, Rose Tyler,” he chirped, spinning around once more before he pulled the dematerialisation lever.

The ship rocked into motion, and Rose grabbed onto the seat so she wouldn’t get flung to the floor. The Doctor, meanwhile, landed on his bum and then bounced right back, giggling merrily the whole time.

“Does this have anything to do with Christmas?” Rose guessed, raising her voice to be heard over the turbulence.

The landing was hard enough to jolt Rose’s teeth, and she pressed her hand to her jaw while she waited for an answer.

The Doctor dusted himself off, then held out a hand for Rose and pulled her to her feet. “What gives you that idea?”

Rose held the Doctor’s gaze as she slowly put on the fuzzy winter hat the TARDIS had laid out for her. It was red with a snowflake pattern on it. The Doctor didn’t blink, so she held up her hands and turned them so he could see the Christmas tree design knitted into the mittens.

“Ohhh… just a guess,” she drawled.

He laughed and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, then bounded up the ramp to the door. “Well, come on then,” he said, and a gust of wind and snow swirled into the room when he pushed the door open.

“So, where are we?” Rose asked as she walked towards him. “Dickens’ London?” She blinked as she took in the snowy forest they’d landed in. “Definitely not.”

“Nope!” The Doctor took her hand, and she could feel his long fingers even through two layers of mittens. “This is the planet Falalalia, generally regarded as one of the best places in the galaxy for all your Christmas, Yule, Solstice, Festivus, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and other winter festival needs.”

Rose followed the Doctor’s lead through the trees, trusting him to know where the path was, even though it couldn’t be seen. “Falalalia?” she asked as they ducked under snow-laden branches. “As in “Fa la la la la la, la la la la,” she sang.

“Look at all the boughs of holly!” the Doctor replied, gesturing at the clumps of bushes covered in red berries. “The climate on Falalalia is cold year ‘round, so they capitalise on that by being a one-stop shop for winter festivals.”

Rose chuckled. “You mean it’s always winter, and always Christmas?” she asked, enjoying the flip of Narnia’s cursed winter.

The Doctor beamed at her and swung their hands between them. “Exactly!”

By the time they reached a town, twenty minutes later, Rose was grateful to the TARDIS for providing excellent winter clothes. Her bright red down coat hadn’t let any of the frigid air through. Putting on a coat that went down to her knees had seemed extreme at the time, but she didn’t think so any more.

“What’s this town called?” she asked as they started down the high street, admiring the shop windows.

“Wassailia,” the Doctor told her.

Rose stopped, and a step later, the Doctor turned around to look at her. “Hang on,” she said, feeling giggles bubbling up. “We’re on Falalalia, you said.”

“Yep!”

“And this town is called Wassailia?”

The Doctor peered down at her. “Yes, Wassailia, Falalalia. Keep up, Rose Tyler.”

Rose stuck her tongue out at him. “Don’t tell me you didn’t laugh the first time you heard that.”

“Wellllll…”

“S’what I thought.”

Rose dove into a shopping arcade before the Doctor could argue, pulling him behind her. “Come on!” she called out over her shoulder. “I want to find something for Mum.”

“But it isn’t even Christmas in London,” he protested, tripping over his feet for a few steps before he caught up with her. “The last time you called, it was only October.”

Rose spun around and put her hand on her hip. “As you’re so fond of reminding me, we live in a time machine.” His lower lip stuck out slightly, and she sighed. “Doctor, did you really think we were going to celebrate Christmas without visiting Mum?”

He tugged on his ear. “No… well, I hoped…”

Rose dropped his hand and crossed her arms over her chest, and the Doctor swallowed hard. Shopping for a Christmas gift for his mother-in-law was not how he’d planned to spend the afternoon, but it didn’t take a Time Lord’s ability to see potential outcomes to know there was only one right answer to Rose’s question.

“I mean, of course not. We’ll go straight to London after we have our own fun here.”

Rose nodded, then took off her hat and mittens and shoved them into her coat pockets. (Pockets he had made bigger on the inside, of course.) Then she took his hand again and led him to the first stop, a jeweller.

An hour later, they’d found an alien toaster for Jackie that promised to toast every slice exactly the same. The Doctor had also managed to sneak in a few purchases of his own, adding to the stack of gifts he had for Rose at home. Judging by her secretive excitement, she’d done the same thing.

“All right,” he said once they’d arranged to pick up the toaster on their way out of town. “Christmas shopping is done. Are you ready to explore the rest of what Wassailia has to offer?”

Rose took the hand he was offering and smiled at him. “Absolutely. Lead the way, Sir Doctor.”

“You’re going to love what I’ve got planned for today, Rose,” the Doctor rambled as they walked towards the exit. “There’s a snowman building contest in the park after lunch, and then, when it starts to get dark—the sun sets early on Falalalia—we’ll take the night sleigh ride and hopefully see the aurora.”

He was vaguely aware that the shopkeepers were bustling around, closing up shop even though it wasn’t even lunchtime yet, but it wasn’t until they stepped outside that he realised his grand plans for the day would have to wait.

“Oh!”

Rose’s soft gasp drew his attention away from the heavy snow falling from the sky. Her wide, glowing eyes melted away his frustration, and he squeezed her hand. “Apparently we get to experience a Falalalia blizzard,” he said cheerfully. “We should find a hotel to stay in until it stops snowing.”

Rose tilted her head and looked up at him. “It’s only snowed a couple inches. Surely we could make it home.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Not in a blizzard,” he said firmly. “We’d lose our way and get lost in the woods, and that would almost certainly be fatal.”

“Ah, in that case…”

She bit her lip and the Doctor felt a glimmer of amusement from her. He clasped her hand tightly in his and led the way across the street while he waited for her next question.

“An’ it’s really snow this time, yeah?” she asked.

The Doctor glanced down at her, and when he spotted her tongue peeking out behind her teeth, he had to pull her close and kiss her. Her lips were cool but her kiss was not, teasing him with soft nips at his lip and swipes of her tongue before he growled and deepened the kiss.

Rose’s soft whimper when his tongue slid into her mouth was almost enough to make him forget the weather. But only a moment later, he felt her shiver, and not because of his touch.

He pulled back and tapped her nose. “Right,” he said briskly. “We can continue this method of keeping warm when we’re actually inside where it’s warm.”

Unsurprisingly, the Falalalia hotel was accustomed to stranded travellers and had overnight kits with pyjamas and tooth brushes available for purchase a the front desk. “And there’s complimentary hot chocolate in your room,” the clerk told them as she handed them the key.

oOoOo

The snow stopped shortly before sunset on their second day in Wassailia, but instead of trying to traipse through snowy woods to get back to the TARDIS in the dark, they stayed another night at the hotel. When they woke up the next morning, everything was sparkling as the sun reflected off the crystalline snow.

“Ready to go home?” the Doctor asked after breakfast.

Rose tightened her scarf and pulled her hat over her ears. “Ready,” she said as she slipped her mittened hand into the Doctor’s.

It took them over an hour to reach the clearing where they’d parked the TARDIS, but Rose didn’t mind the walk. Bright red birds danced over the surface of the new snow, then soared into the air and sang to each other as they looked for food. And when they ducked underneath the last branch blocking them from the clearing where they’d parked the TARDIS, there were several reindeer standing nearby.

Rose covered her hand with her mouth to muffle her squeal of excitement. “Are they like Santa’s reindeer?” she whispered to the Doctor.

He rocked back on his heels and grinned. “Flying, you mean? Absolutely.”

Rose clapped her hands and jumped up and down excitedly… until she noticed the Doctor’s smile had disappeared. “What? What’s wrong?” She followed his gaze and saw it immediately.

The TARDIS was nearly buried in a snowbank.

“Oh.”

The thought of digging the ship out of the snow drained her excitement for a moment, but then she got an idea. “Doctor? Why can’t we get some help?”

He rubbed at his eyebrow. “It would take an hour to get to town and an hour to get back. We could be inside by then.”

Rose bit her lip and shook her head. “No, I mean… help.” She pointed at the reindeer and waited for the Doctor to get it.

He looked from the reindeer to the TARDIS, and his eyes widened. “Oh, help!” The Doctor laughed and picked Rose up, swinging her around a few times before he set her down and kissed her soundly. “Rose Tyler, you are a genius.”

In the end, they still had to dig far enough to hook the traces up to the TARDIS doors, but that wasn’t hard. “Go on, Dasher!” the Doctor called when they were ready. The reindeer tossed his head, but he didn’t balk. As a team, the eight reindeer pulled the tinier-on-the-outside sleigh until it was free of the snowbank.

“Yes!” the Doctor crowed as the TARDIS came free. Then he hopped up onto it, sitting on the closed door. “Come on, love,” he said, patting the spot behind him. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Rose laughed and jumped up beside him. She reached for the reins and snuggled into his side when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Can I say it, Doctor? Please?”

He chuckled. “Go ahead.”

Rose rattled the reins, and the reindeer straightened up as their bells jingled. “Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

The Doctor’s merry chuckle echoed through the woods, and then he leaned down and whispered in Rose’s ear. “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

#ficandchips #ten x rose #fic by Nancy #31 days of ficmas #doctorroseprompts #series: as time goes by #cq's fic: a lot like christmas #i love the reindeer clip #had to use it!

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coffee-and-hollands · 7 years ago

Text

Law of Life | 2 (Lawyer!Tom AU)

Good things come from shit days

Blurb: After a terrible ending of a decent day, two individuals meet in the weirdest circumstances. Ones a first year associate at the biggest firm in the country, the other is a concert goer from a different country. The bringing together of these two lives creates a new beginning.

Part 1 | Part 2 | ??? (to be continued)

Warning: It isn’t a coffee-and-hollands fic without some swearing. idk what else goes here lol

A/N: So sorry for the lateness of this update. I was away, then I had to get ready for back to school, then school started again and it’s my last year so I actually have to try and do some shit for once. ANYWAY! LAWYER!TOM IS BACK BABY! this is my second time writing these notes cause it didn’t save ffs so it’s a bit rushed. I don’t know how many more parts there will be in this series. If anyone has any ideas for this fic please feel free to message me about it. If you have any requests feel free to send me an ask at my cashier. Thank you for supporting me and my shit ass writing.

“...and next thing I knew it, I had cold, sticky beer soaking my shirt,” Tessa explained as the pair’s laughter ran through the empty city streets. She watched as Tom stopped to catch his breathe with his hands on his knees.

“So, your telling me that in the space of less than two hours,” He stated as he ran to catch up to the smiling girl, “ you saw your favourite band but also got elbowed multiple times, beer was poured over you by accident and you fell down the stairs as you made your way up said stairs?” He questioned laughing at the concept. She stopped and looked at him with hurt eyes and her hand on her heart.

“Do you have no faith in me to make a fool out of myself?” She asked, faking a hurtful expression; making him blush of embarrassment.

“Oh no,” he replied worried he truly hurt her feelings, “I, uh, was...no...”.

“I was joking!” Cutting Tom off with a friendly punch to his arm, slightly harder than expected, knocking him off balance and into the neighbouring building next to him. “SHIT! Sorry,” she quickly spurted out as she held her hands out to help him gain his balance again. Rubbing his shoulder, Tom wavered Tessa off as he began walking down the quiet city street.

“We aren’t too far away from your place,” he explained as he lazily pointed down the street. Tessa ran to catch up to him as she worried for his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked putting her hand on his shoulder, stopping them in their tracks, “I can give you some ice when we get to my apartment.” Looking into her deep blue eyes, he couldn’t decline the offer. Unable to form a single word, Tom simply nodded his head as they continued to walk.

“OH! I know where we are now!” Tessa screamed in excitement as she finally started to recognise her surroundings. Surprised by her sudden outburst, Tom grinned as he watched her run around the path as she pointed out features she recognised. “That’s the Starbucks Josie always gets me to go to even though it’s super expensive,” she explained pointing across the street to the darkened store front with the familiar green sign. “OH! And that’s the best shop to buy cup noodles, cause it’s always open late.” She exclaimed as she looked back to find Tom standing still watching her smiling as he chuckles at her cheerful expression. She stopped in her tracks as his caramel eyes stared into her own eyes, becoming distracted by his features. Breaking from his trance, Tom cleared his throat.

“uh, your place should just be up here right?” he asked as he walked up next to her, pointing towards a set of stairs. As Tessa registered his question her eyes perked up to the bright orbs he saw just a minute before.

“Yes! yes it is.” She exclaimed with a new found enthusiasm. Tom chuckled again as he watched the optimistic girl skip up to the base of the stairs and hop up the steps. As he reached the bottom of the steps himself he watched her as here body expression changed to a rigid figure. Arching her head back in frustration she exhaled loudly.

“..Shit. Where the fuck did I put my bloody keys?” she questioned to her self as she began scavenging through her pockets. Tom slowly made his way up the steps cautious of the flustered figure. With faint mutterings coming from her mouth, Tom boldly decided to knock on the hard wood door, in hope that someone would save them both. Looking up through her blonde waves she seemed surprised by the simple solution to her problem Tom found. Just as her mouth opened to thank him, a bright light shone onto both of their faces.

Rubbing her face in exhaustion, the young woman on the other side of the entrance looked into Tessa’s surprised eyes as the realisation hits her. “SHIT! Tessa!” she yelled smacking her hand on her forehead and closing her eyes in frustration, “I knew I forgot something.”

“Yea, thanks for that” Tessa replied as she smoothed her hair into place, recovering from the sudden exposure to the bright light. The young woman looked next to Tessa to find the brunette curls of Tom as he stood their patiently, both hands behind his back as he held his briefcase.

“Who the fuck is this?” she asked, looking back at Tessa hoping for a reasonable answer. However, Tessa was unable to form a sentence as she scratched the back of her neck in search for the right answer.

“I’m Tom,” he replied cheerfully in his rich British accent as he brought one of his hands around to shake the woman’s hand, “I helped your friend get home after I found her covered in beer as she swore at a disappearing cab.” As his sentence went on, his voice began to falter as he realised how stupid the situation sounded.

“Josie,” the woman stated, taking his hand and lightly shaking it. Looking back at her friend, Josie glared into Tessa’s blue eyes hoping for more of an explanation. Tessa, still unable to function, open and closed her mouth as she tried to form a single word.

“uh, Tessa?” Tom asked politely as he turned towards the flustered woman, “is it okay if i was able to get that ice? cause that building was hard as fuck.” he explained rubbing his left shoulder as he chuckled at her expression. Surprised by his sudden language, Tessa awoke from her trance and began to move into the apartment.

“Yea, sure! Come on in,” she replied pushing Josie out of the way as she ushered Tom into the entrance way. “I’ll be right back.” She said as she ran into the kitchen to find an ice pack. Looking around the apartment, Tom found Josie looking straight at him, as she tried to solve the puzzle in front of her. Putting his briefcase down, he looked up to find Josie’s green orbs searching his face for an answer.

“How?” she asked blatantly, pointing between Tom and the direction of Tessa.

“To be completely honest, I don’t know.” was the only way Tom could reply as he raked through his mind trying to understand what had exactly happened in the past hour.

“so what’s with the fancy outfit? Wedding? Bro’s night out?” Josie questioned, trying to uncover any secrets she could find.

“Oh no, work.” Tom explained pointing back at his briefcase, leading to more questions forming in Josie’s mind.

“Oh yea, where would a fine man like you work at that leaves him on the streets late at night?” She asked hoping for an interesting answer.

“Law. First associate under Sylvia Anders,” Josie’s eyes widened at the name, her hopes rising as he continued, “she had some case files that I needed to finish.” He answered as he fiddled with his watch on his wrist, unaware of the time. Suddenly aware of her situation, Josie became more intrigued by this mysterious man.

“Sylvia Anders, you mean Parker Co‘s best senior partner underneath the man himself?” She exclaimed as she found her day improving by the second. Not only did her least favourite contestant get rejected by the Bachelor but she has a chance to get into the biggest law firm in the city; but it all falls on the man standing in front of her.

“You know a lot about Parker Co,” Tom stated questioning her reasoning for knowing so much, “You’re a lawyer yourself aren’t you?” He asked smirking at his deduction.

“Nah shit Sherlock,” she answered bothered by his smirk, “I’ve always wanted to work at Parker Co even just as an intern...” she exclaimed as she threw her hands around to help explain her position. ‘Definitely a lawyer’ Tom thought as he watched her hands move with her explanation, not listening at all. “...you could put my name in!” she ended with a bright expression on her face. Tom’s facial expression stayed focused as he tried to work out the details of the matter.

“I don’t know if I could do that.” He replied, searching for a way to change topics. Almost like fate, another voice rung through the apartment, distracting Josie from their conversation.

“I am so fucking sorry for that,” Tessa exclaimed as she walked back through the hallway as she wrapped some paper towel around the ice pack. As she passed the ice pack to Tom, their fingers brushed ever so slightly; but it was enough to send the atoms of her finger tips into a flurry. Quickly pulling her hand away, she looked over to the clock hanging just above his head as a distraction.

12:03

“Oh uh, you should probably get home,” she stated as she pointed behind Tom towards the clock. Turning his head to look at the clock, he remembered he was meant to be back with Harrison ages ago.

“Shit, you’re right” He replied as he picked up his briefcase in a hurry to make his way home.

“Well, I’m gonna go and continue watching the Bachelor, which you two lovebirds intruded on.” Josie mentioned as she walked back into the living room, leaving the blushing pair by themselves.

“So um, I should probably, uh, get going,” Tom stuttered out, breaking the awkward silence that fell in the room. Moving his hand that was occupied with the ice pack towards Tessa, Tom expected her to take it back, surprisingly, she observed the action with confusion. “Tessa? Do you want this back?” He asked, stepping closer to her with his arm outstretched.

“Oh no,” she replied taking his hand in hers as she placed it onto his sore shoulder, “you need it more than I do.” she finished with a chuckle.

“Are you sure?” he questioned as he looked from their hands to her face, catching her attention. The touch of her soft hands on his sent a warm sensation up his arm as he analysed every shade of blue and green in her eyes.Awkwardly breaking tension, Tessa brought her hand off his as she cleared her throat.

“Yea, it’s fine.” She quickly replied, recovering from her trance. She watched Tom as he ran his free hand through his curls as he considered his next words thoroughly.

“Is it possible if I, uhm,” he cleared his own throat as the pitch of his voice rose, “I-I could get your number?” he blurted out awkwardly pointing his finger towards Tessa. Watching her expression changed, he quickly found himself justifying himself, “So I can give the ice pack back,” he swiftly added with a smile.

Taken aback by the question, Tessa stood in front of Tom with a blank expression. As his words sunk in, she found that he had handed her his phone and her body had automatically taken all the steps needed for him. Handing his phone back to Tom, Tessa smiled as she rubbed her sweaty hands on her jeans.

“Thanks,” Tom stated as he returned his phone to his pocket, turning around to face the door. Tessa came round him and opened the door for him. Surprised by her chivalry, Tom looked back at Tessa to find her smiling back at him once again. Walking through the doorway, Tom found himself smiling at the thought of the night he has had.

“Thank you for helping me get home,” Tessa thanked as she leaned against the heavy, wooden door. Looking back at her blonde waves for the last time for the night, Tom replied.

“It was my pleasure,”

Closing the door as she walked back into the apartment, Tessa turned around to find Josie standing in the hallway with a hand on her hip, waiting for an explanation.

“HOW THE FUCK DID YOU MEET HIM?”

#THANKS FOR READING THIS SHIT #IT MEANS A LOT TO ME #THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT #IT HELPS A LOT #fanfic #tom holland ff #tom holland fanfic #Lawyer!tom au #Tom holland au #Tom Holland #Coffee and Hollands #Coffeehollands writes

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