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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter three rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spiderman’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

Peter arrived at the Avengers tower with a little pep in his step. His new neighbor was on his mind and he couldn’t get her off. He knew it was a long shot, after all you’d only had one conversation, but he felt like there was a connection between you. You were awkward, he was awkward. What more does a relationship need?

Tony was quick to notice the change in Peters mood. A dreamy smile crept across his face every now and then while Tony was trying to explain something about his nanotechnology.

“Alright Underoos, whats on your mind? A girl? Boy? That gorgeous Aunt of yours? Oh wait no, that’s what’s on my mind.” Tony smirked, making a blush paint Peters cheeks.

“Nothing sir. Sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Peter answered quickly. Tony scanned Peter up and down skeptically.

“So its a girl. Alright. Who is she?” Tony asked, motioning for Peter to sit down with him.

“This girl moved in across the hall from me about a week ago. I’d see her on the stairs sometimes, or in the lobby. She’s beautiful, Mr. Stark. I mean, really beautiful. And I know girls are a lot more than their appearance, trust me, but I can never look away. It’s like God made a perfect batch of cookie dough, and then made a perfect cookie cutter, and then hand made her just for me. There’s just, there’s something about her. I feel like I’ve always known her, and I don’t even know her yet. She knocked on my door this morning and I nearly had a heart attack when I saw her through the peephole. I played dumb and acted like I didn’t know she lived across the hall.” Peter started to explain. A twinge of embarrassment struck him at the memory of what he said to you.

“Oh God. You said something stupid, didn’t you?” Tony inquired, noticing the look of embarrassment on Peters face as he recalled their conversation. Tony leaned on his hands like a child, this stuff exciting him more than anything.

“I insulted her dead father and called him smelly.” Peter admitted, and Tony laughed.

“But she found it funny and agreed with me.” Peter quickly followed up.

“Wow. Normally I’d say there’s no coming back from that, but she seems like a keeper. So, are you gonna throw on your Spidey suit and take her for a ride around the city? Works with all the ladies.” Tony wiggled eyebrows, but Peter shook his head.

“No. Spider-Man isn’t a party trick or some tactic to pick up girls. Plus, I want her to like me for me. That’s why I invited her over for dinner tonight.” Peter answered. Tony looked down at his hands, not wanting Peter to see how proud he was. He couldn’t let Peter get too cocky.

“That was a test and you passed.” To y quipped. “Alright, spider child, you have my blessing. But no funny business tonight. If I find out I’m gonna have to design nanotech baby clothes, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Peter blushed at the mere thought of what Tony was implying and spent the rest of his time at the tower going over missions to get you off his mind.

You arrived at Peters at 6:07. You were done getting ready at 5:45, and sat in the living room on your phone until you were slightly late. You didn’t want to be early, like some loser. Or even worse, on time. You had to be fashionably, but not rudely, late.

You knocked on Peters door at 6:07 and waited. The door swung open instantly, as if he’d be waiting right behind.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He stated. “I’ll let you decide if I was waiting at the door for you or if I’m just really fast. “

He had successfully broken the ice, and you gave kudos to him for trying.

You, on the other hand, were drawing a blank. You had no idea what to say and you were a reporter for crying out loud. You didn’t get tripped up on my words, but something about Peter Parker and that damn collared shirt rendered you unable to formulate a thought. All you could do was stand there and smile at him. You felt like you were standing weirdly and all the sudden had no idea where to put your hands. Do you leave them at your sides? That felt too stiff and soldier-like. But where else would they go? You were pretty sure every brain cell had left your body at that point, leaving you defenseless.

“You look nice.” Peter blurted, interrupting the awkward silence that had settled between you. Even he seemed surprised by his statement. You looked down and shrugged. You looked as nice as a lazy person who didn’t fully unpack their clothes could look. You had on a casual grey dress that was made of some sort of t-shirt material, and your hair was in a loose bun with a few curls framing your face. Peter took in your appearance with what looked like approval. Then you noticed Peters gaze falling to your feet.

“Converse with a dress.” He noted. “Bold move.”

You felt your personality re-enter your body, finally, and nodded.

“Oh yeah. You know me. Quirky and cool and not like other girls.” You joked as you clicked your heels together. “You look nice too. Very…Freddie Benson.”

Freddie Benson? Who the hell makes an ICarly reference to compliment someone? This night was going downhill fast and you regretted ever knocking on his door.

“Dude. You’re tanking.” Venom said in your ear, you had to agree. This couldn’t be going worse.

But lo and behold, Peters beautiful laugh filled your ears once again.

“That’s what I was going for!” He cheered. “My friend Ned always teases me for wearing sweaters and button downs but he just doesn’t have the vision.”

“Come in.” He suddenly stepped aside and gestured inward. “Dinners almost ready.”

Peters apartment looked just like yours, but much more homey. You saw his baby pictures on the wall, coupled with pictures of him and his parents through the years. You noticed a framed picture of a different couple on the coffee table. They resembled Peter but you didn’t see them in any photos with him past the age of around 7. There was a candle next to the frame, as well as a ceramic cross. You quickly looked away, not wanting to overstep.

“You must be Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” You heard a woman’s voice from behind you. You turned around and saw a woman in high pants and a yellow tank top, recognized her from the pictures with Peter.

“I am. It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Parker.” You said politely and shook her hand.

“Please.” She shook your hand. “Call me May.”

“May.” You repeated with a smile.

You turned around and saw Peter pulling out a chair for you, so you sat down while May finished preparing dinner. You offered to help, being the polite ass bitch that you were, but May insisted that you were the guest. A plate of “meatloaf” was soon placed in front of you and Peter. The term “meatloaf” is used very loosely. It looked more like an old shriveled brain. Peter made eye contact with you and winked.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He whispered. He glanced at May, who was busy pouring the drinks, before leaning in closer and whispering, “it’s way worse.”

You playfully kicked Peter under the table and he giggled, quickly masking the sound with a drink of water.

“So, Y/N, where do you go to school?” May started the conversation. You took a bite of meatloaf, nearly died, and swallowed before answering.

“I’m actually taking a gap year before I start my junior year at Berkeley.” You told her. “And I work part time as a reporter.”

“That’s a very good school.” She complimented. “And I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen your show on YouTube.”

“I haven’t.” Peter realized. “What’s it called?”

“The L/n Report.” You answered. “I started it my freshman year and it just kinda took off.”

“Oh. I’ve read some of yoru articles, but I haven’t seen the show.” Peter realized. “I can’t believe you do that. That’s really cool. You’re really cool.”

“Thank you.” You winked at him, not used to being praised for your work.

“Peter told me about your father.” May changed the subject. “I’m so sorry to hear that he passed. He left the apartment to you?”

“He did.” You nodded. “And it’s all right. We were estranged anyway.”

“It must be so different living alone in a city.” May sighed. “Did you dorm while at Berkeley?”

“No, I lived with my boyfriend.” You shook your head. Peter began choking on his water at the mention of a boyfriend and May shot him a look.

“Peter. Manners.” She said sternly.

“Boyfriend?” Was all he managed to say between coughs and sputters.

Oh great. Time for this conversation.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected. “I got him demoted to traffic duty for two weeks and he wasn’t too happy about it.”

“He broke up with you over that?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “That’s gotta be the dumbest reason for a breakup I’ve ever heard.”

“May I ask how you got him demoted?” May wondered.

“Well, I’m an investigative reporter, and my ex, Andy, is a cop.” You began. “I looked at some classified files on his computer and used them against someone.”

“Carlton Drake, right?” She realized the story sounded familiar. “I read about that. Your exposé about him was everywhere.”

“Didn’t he die in his own rocket?” Peter asked you, fully invested in the story.

“Yea. I was there. Me and…my friend.” You caught yourself before almost mentioning Venom.

“Gosh I read that story forever ago.” May recalled. “It was all over the news here. I remember Peter ranting to me that this girl was straight out of high school and already taking down shady guys in San Francisco. You were obsessed with the article, remember Peter? I’m pretty sure you hung it up.”

Peter, you guessed it, turned bright red.

“I just thought you were cool. You know, taking down bad guys and all at such a young age. It really inspired me.” Peter explained. He suddenly looked panicked, like he said too much, and you wondered what it inspired him to do.

“Thank you Peter.” You smiled fondly. “How old are you anyway?”

“19. I’ll be 20 on August 10th.” He said proudly. “What about you?”

“He’s legal.” Venom whispered in your ear. You couldn’t even be mad at her, you were thinking the same thing.

“I’m 20.” You told him, and smile crept across his face.

“And this boyfriend, where is he now?” May asked. May wasn’t blind to what was happening between her nephew and this new neighbor and knew that’s what Peter was dying to ask.

“I would very much also like to know that.” Peter said, almost robotically. He leaned in closer and stared at you while he awaited the answer.

“He’s engaged, actually.” You said between sips of water, making Peter sigh in relief. “To a friend of mine. They’re getting married this summer.”

It was the first time you said those words out loud. You didn’t feel sad, like you thought you would. You didn’t really know how you felt. The smile that broke out on Peters face gave a clear indication on how he felt, though.

“That’s great. I mean, not great great. Great for him, I mean. It’s always good to move on. Wether it be with an old friend or a brand new one. Maybe it’s with someone you just met. You never know. Things just happen between the most random of people. Could be a stranger. Or, or, hear me out, it could be less of a stranger. Like a barista, or a mailman or a…a neighbor.” Peter stumbled over his words, the last part coming out very quietly. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out though. Between you and him, I mean. ”

“Thanks.” You shrugged. “It was tough at first but, I’m okay now. He wasn’t the one.”

“When you do find the one, you’ll know. I knew almost immediately that Ben was the one. I saw him and my heart said “that’s the one you’ve been looking for” and I believed it.” May sighed wistfully. You could see her eyes glistening behind her glasses and did something rather bold. You put your hand on top of hers and squeezed. She gave off this loving motherly vibe that you had only seen in movies but never felt for yourself. May gave you the warmest smile and squeezed your hand back.

“That’s lovely May. Although, I always thought when you met the one, your heart wouldn’t say that it’s been looking for that person. I always thought it would say ‘welcome home’, or something like that. You know? Like, you’ve always known them. I don’t know though. Maybe I’ve just seen The Princess Bride one too many times.” You shrugged.

“Ah. That’s a classic in this household.” May recalled. “Peter would refuse to go to bed without watching it.”

“Because it’s a cinematic masterpiece.” Peter sassed. “You’re trying to embarrass me by pointing out that even as a child I had impeccable taste? Oh please.”

You laughed at his remark, making May noticed the smile that broke out on Peters face when he succeeded in making their new neighbor laugh.

May looked at you for a while with a content smile on her face before saying, “Yeah. I suppose you do have good taste.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #peter parker imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader

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demogordon · 2 years ago

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It's been a month since Vol2 and I'm still pissed at certain things and other stuff confuses me, like the pacing from ep7 to ep8. Nancy got vecna'ed in the middle of the night but the next time we saw this group it was suddenly bright outside. Like I don't understand how they could sit there for hours and don't even attempt to address Steve's wounds, homeboy went shirtless, dirty, bleeding through his makeshift bandages and with no shoes to a gun store and everyone was okay with that? I mean I kinda knew they wouldn't address his injuries because it's Steve so the writers don't give a fuck but man Robin panicking an episode earlier about rabies and yet they don't even bother to disinfect his wounds at the very least. I know this show is not realistic but I wish they would have taken his injuries, which were so fucking gnarly more seriously. The first thing I would have done is drive him to a hospital, fuck vecna I mean it took them hours of seemingly doing nothing to come up with the plan or talk about what Nancy saw, they could have had time to take care of this. Also I don't understand how he was even able to function let alone do the pull up from the UD to the normal world. The amount of pain he must have been in, unimaginable. Steve's build absolutely different, like he's a super human or something. But my guess the Duffers simply don't care about the implications of Steve's injuries.

Sorry for this rant, I'm just working on this fic which is about Vol2 and yeah it just frustrated me how off the pacing was or how little the writers cared about the characters feelings. 🙃

anon, you’ve hit the nail on the head. first, i want to address steve’s injuries. they’re not so bad he’s incapacitated but he would certainly have limited mobility and struggle to do any of the physical activities he later does. also, you need to apply pressure to stop bleeding and the reason you bandage open wounds is to prevent bacteria from getting in. nancy’s sweater that she tears from is NASTY. she’s run around, fought, and dove into a lake. that sweater is a cesspool of bacteria so it’s sort of like instead of protecting steves open wounds from bacteria, they skipped a step and just shoveled it in, which is an awesome way to get sepsis and die. the bests course of action would have been to get the sweater off of him as fast as possible and to disinfect with soap and water (not alcohol, which actually prevents wounds from closing as fast as they could) and then bandage with clean gauze. nancy should have driven as someone else, probably max because of her first aid knowledge, helped patch him up reliably.

speaking of the weird time shit: the duffers don’t seem to understand their own times or dates or how long things take. it’s like. midday by the time they’re driving to get all their weapons. they would have had the conversation with nancy about vecna in the early hours of the morning, maybe as the sky is getting light and formulated a plan earlier in a realistic timeline. this is also a bone my mother brought up to pick that she didn’t understand why the fuck steve didn’t have the girls lob molotov cocktails and shoot at vecna and sneak up behind him and chop his head off with the axe he had. her idea was that hopper and steve’s slicy activities should have been intercut as they were done simultaneously. but the duffers need vecna for season five so they couldn’t do something that makes sense.

#long ask #scout speaks

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dreamii-yume · 4 years ago

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not a request but, Idia seems like the type to make a hentai game based on his darling correct? so he uses that as a base to have experience to woo his darling. but now as he tries it irl, he's confused it worked in the game. so why is the darling crying? is there a glitch somewhere? thoughts?

It all started when he thought that you looked like a character from an anime he watched once. He was a fond of the character so, he couldn’t help but to observe you more than he should, hiding his excitement throughout. There, he found out that you don’t just share a similar appearance but a similar personality as well, the perfect embodiment of that character. Idia almost thought that you were some kind of base for that character, cosplaying even, but you were from another world, weren’t you? Could it be that you’re actually that character and just got reincarnated into his world without knowing that you’re an anime character yourself!?

Reverse Isekai, was it? A twist in that overused genre where the fictional character is the one who gets to be trasported to the normal world. Idia was there on the peak of its popularity, reading all the manga, novels that he can find, watching all the anime adaptations along the way. Then the premise just gets redone over and over again that it slowly became boring. Even if they add twists here and there, it still ended up the same.

But now comes you, a real person that got transported into his world! A person who just happens to look and act like the character from one of his beloved shows! You can’t blame him for being this intrigued by your existence! Because how can he not!? This is an otaku’s dream coming true right here!

And best of all...You have his favorite character archetype! How awesome is that!?

Before he knew it, he was all over you. Well, not really...Since he was too shy to actually talk to you, and all he was just doing is either hide behind that tablet of his and a wall at least five meters away. He had already embraced the joys of being a loner and is practically a master of running away from social gatherings or talking in general, but now that it came to this, it became a double-edged sword.

Ortho said to just build up the courage to talk to you if he so badly wants to and he does. He really, really wants to talk to you, at least once...Or twice...Or thrice- The point is that he really wants to. But as supportive as the little brother of his is, he makes it sound so easy. Of course, someone who doesn’t know jackshit about making friends would never be able to master that skill that easily. He cringes at the thought of doing so without any experience, you’d probably see him as another creepy otaku.

Then, it came to him...A thought that proves that he was actually the genius that everyone claims him to be.

Experience. Of course! He’ll just have to gain experience so he can level up! With that, he can conquer your route doing just that! And what better way to do this than to combine it with something what he’s well-experienced with?

So, he started working. His fingers worked on the holographic keyboard faster than he’d ever been, creating a dating simulator game in less than three days. Ortho himself was surprised to see his usually unmotivated and borderline depressed brother having this intense look in his eyes. Idia barely ate or sleep during all of that, but he doesn’t care, what matters is that he finished it.

He finished the game that can finally help himself out, a dating simulator with only one character to focus on. A character who’s basically a spitting image of you and named after you, he even sneaked in some voice lines that he secretly recorded you saying. Idia had observed you longer to know what to write in the game script, which choices you would make, which words you would say, there was even different sprites and assets of you, depending on your emotions! Though, his hand seems to have slipped and before he knew it, he had already hired some Top-tier doujinshi artists to draw some Not-Safe-For-Work CGs of you for some Not-Safe-For-Work scenes. Yeah...He thought so far ahead that it just kinda turned into...Those kinds of simulation games.

But he regrets nothing.

...Other than the fact that he should probably keep this game away from Ortho as much as possible.

Anyway, it was probably one of the games that he took his sweet time with. Even though it was a game that he himself created, it was like he had developed some form of amnesia and was marvelled at his first time playing such masterpiece. All the twists and events left him in awe, squealing at every single CG when your character goes as little as holding his in-game character’s hand. The more...special scenes had him gulping down his own saliva as a physical reaction, the moans and groans that he recorded from you was when you were stretching in the morning, or when you’re startled or exercising, and yet, it fits so well with each sex scene. His face flushed and his pants felt so tight as he read through the dialogue box, his hand later slipping underneath them just so he could relieve his excitement.

“(Y/N)...Hehe, (Y/N)...♡” He blissfully moans as his hand goes up and down his cock, biting his blue lip in anticipation. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and his flaming hair burned a brighter blue, expressing his excitement. His imagination was going ballistic, imagining your own tightness around him as he slid in and out of your slick insides. The closer the scene reached its climax, the faster his hands became, determine to release at the same time as your character. “Haa...(Y/N)~♡ It feels so good...So good...Haha...”

With a satisfied moan, his own strings of semen shoots against his screen, perfectly coming just in time as your character appears, all flushed and exhausted. Idia let out a sigh, calming down from his high with a few strokes here and there to make sure of a satisfying release.

“Haa...Idia-kun, I love you ♡”

That was his favorite dialogue, no matter how many times he replayed this scene, it never fails to arouse him, making him all warm on the inside. A huge blush covered his cheeks as he smirked, slowly building up into an unhinged chuckle. He brushed his hands down the tainted screen, smudging his cum even more as he imagined it as your face. “Aah...Me too...I love you too, (Y/N)~” He whispered, shivering in excitement. “Aw...I can’t wait to have you for real...Wait for a little while, ‘kay? Hehe...”

This plan was a success and certainly helped him gain the confidence and experience that he needed to finally talk to you properly. Memorizing all the available scenarios and route he can go to, he just felt like he can do just about anything right now. With all these knowledge in mind, you surely won’t be weirded out and things wouldn’t be as awkward as he had already formulated a full conversation on his head. A bad end flag was still left arise, but it was placed so low that Idia can’t just spend another batch of his precious time with it, nothing would go wrong if he just do what he practiced, right? For that reason alone, his birthday was coming up and for the first time in forever, he could use a party as an excuse to talk to you. It doesn’t matter who comes anyway, he’ll have Ortho to accommodate them, Idia’s main focus should only be directed at you.

Plus, if he was going to confess on his birthday, then that’s just a major advantage! Plenty of stuff happens when it’s your own character’s birthday in any game, developers becomes extra generous with the drop rates in gachas, they give you more game currency to spend, and extra scenarios with your favorite characters! Sometimes even free stuff of your choice! This would definitely put his chance rate well above what he expected, it’s you after all!

“Happy birthday, Idia-senpai. I brought this gift for you, I hope you like it.” Ah, there it is, his goddess’ voice echoing through the walls. You said that you were going to conduct a birthday interview with him which got his heart beating like crazy. W-Were you going to start the confession event here!? With all these people!? That’s too daring! Though, that’s really charming of you, and a part of him actually wanted that to happen so he could finally point his fingers to these losers-

But no, unfortunately, he doesn’t have that much confidence to give and so, he ended up having to push you somewhere more secluded. Somewhere more...private. Like his room for example- that’s a good place, right~? Nobody can interrupt this interview that way and...and they can do play all sorts of games right after too...That’s fun, isn’t it!?

The interview was surprisingly fun, although it really just consisted of him ranting to you all about his interests. He ended up spilling all facts about his favorite idol group, games, and movies, his big mouth going off on a tangent once again because of that one question. This wasn’t exactly part of the plan, he was planning to give off a smooth vibe to it but he guessed he was just a tad bit under-level for that. Anyway, you ended gracing him with an adorable giggle so, it doesn’t really affect his motives! He’ll still conquer your route like he did with the game!

A few more questions about his favorite and least favorite food comes, Idia couldn’t help but be impatient. When were you going to activate the scenario, huh? The love confession event, it was the one question that he was waiting for. His heart was ready, his body was ready, his everything was ready...So, why were you standing up with a satisfied look on your face? Aren’t you forgetting something here?

“And that concludes our Birthday Celebration Interview! Idia-senpai, thank you for answering all my-“ Idia’s heart skipped a beat as his hands automatically grabbed your hand and pulled you down, rather aggressively.

“W-Wait! Wait, wait, waitwaitwait-“ Idia stumbled over his words, his face flushed as he stared at you with a crooked but nervous smile. “U-Um...! T-There something else...That I want to tell y-you...”

Oh, no...This was that one scenario in the extreme difficulty mode of the game, where you’re not triggering the confession event at all. You’re probably so conflicted with your emotions that he has to do it himself as the main character. It’s not the original route that he’s going for, but it’s fine, he has the script of this mode in memory too, he should be able to pull it off...That’s weird though, he never remembered activating anything to play in this difficulty...Whatever, real life really is something else, isn’t it?

You were surprised and quite honestly, bothered at his sudden outburst but that’s fine. You were the same in the game too, he just had to take control of the situation. “I-I...” He gathered the words in his head, his face heating up than it ever did before.

“(Y-Y/N)...I like- No...” He stammered as he tries his best to form a nervous smile, his heart was beating so fast but that’s not really something new. “...I love you, (Y/N)...”

Idia heard a slight gasp from you but delusions took over his mind before logic can come bursting through, rendering him practically heart-eyed at the situation. He was distracted, but he still waited for your response even if he was already a hundred percent convinced that his confession was a success. It has to be, he had already seen this exact scenario in the game for a millionth time. “...D-Do you...love me too, (Y/N)...?” He fiddled with the tip of his burning hair, leaning close to you as he knows that it’s a special skill that increases his success rate up to at least twenty percent. “...You l-love me too, don’t you~? Hehe...♡”

Yes. You’re going to say yes. You always had said yes in the game as there was absolutely no reason for you to say otherwise. Everything that happened before this went according to plan, he followed every route, said the correct dialogue choices, so there’s no way that he can fuck this one up. He had definitely conquered your route for real this time!

“Ah...” But he had to wonder though, why were you averting your eyes for? That’s cute, but you don’t have to be shy...Just say that you love him too, he can hardly wait! “Idia-senpai...”

“...I’m sorry.”

Idia blinked, his body freezing on its spot as you bowed in front of him so respectfully. Your mouth began to move to deliver more words of explanation for him to understand, but he just couldn’t hear anything else anymore.

What did you say? You’re...sorry? Haha...For what though? That’s weird, that’s not what you were supposed to say, even if this was set in extra hard mode. He did everything correctly so, no matter what difficulty he’s in, you should be able to accept his confession every time.

...Is it a bug in the system? A glitch that he didn’t see?

You called out to him once again, you called out his name and upon looking up, he could only see your face. So full of concern and pity, but no signs of falling in love whatsover. No...You shouldn’t be looking at him like that, what the hell just happened?

This is all wrong...!

Before Idia could even properly process anything, he had found himself on top of you, both frustration and anger building up inside him. His hand, albeit really shaky, had found itself a dangerous clasp around your neck and your expression suddenly turned white. You’re struggling underneath him, like a deer caught by a hunter, kicking and scratching his arms away. But you were scared, he could tell by that look in your eyes, he could easily squeeze your neck in this position after all.

“I-Idia-senpai...!” He heard you call out but your voice just bounced off his ears, he was too distracted by his own shock. This was not in any of the scenarios that he formulated inside his mind, and he created thousands, for Hades’ sake! His breathing became unstable as he began to hyperventilate, sweating immensely as he tries to wreck his brain for whatever the hell he was supposed to do in this scenario. This wasn’t how the game continues after a confession event! Was he too inexperience or under-level to conquer your route? Did he miss a side quest from you or something? What did he do wrong? Was it the lack of gifts of affection? Normally, you were supposed to say that you love him too, embrace him before the two of you share a kiss and-

...A kiss?

Oh...Oh, that’s right! Maybe this is where the code got rewritten and that the kiss should come first now? Maybe your character was taking a different turn, you were probably shifting to other character types to accommodate your new-found feelings...You’re being a Tsundere, aren’t you~? So cute, but you don’t have to push him away though, he’ll keep coming back to you anyways.

...And so, in hopes of desperation, that’s exactly what he did, he leaned down at you as he smashed his lips onto yours. You widened your eyes with a muffled scream coming out of you, but Idia kept your mouth busy as it is. He was on cloud-nine, enjoying your soft lips against his chapped ones so much so that he just instinctively started grinding his hips against yours. You were starting to panic, but that’s fine, that’s a normal reaction. Both in real life and in-game.

By the time that he finished selfishly sucking up your lips, ultimately creating a little bruise on the side, he pulled away with a string of saliva connecting both your tongues together. Idia giggled to himself, the feeling of your lips and tongue was still lingering on his that he can’t help but be hungry for more. However, looking back at you, he blinked as tears suddenly began to stream down your cheeks. Your chest heaving up and down as small hiccups comes out of your every sob.

It made him panic slightly at first, but then remembered a scenario like this once in the game...Though, it wasn’t a scenario as drastic as this one, that he’ll admit. “A-Ah, you shouldn’t cry...” He tried comforting, letting go of your neck and wiping your tears away with a nervous smile. “Y-You’re not supposed to cry after a c-confession event, it’s not in your file...”

You flinched at his touch. “S-Stop, please...L-Let me go...” You whimpered, lifting your arms up to try and shield yourself away from him. “I-I won’t tell anyone, I-I swear-!”

Idia’s hand twitched, quickly covering your mouth as a nervous rection so that he wouldn’t hear the words that he doesn’t want to hear anymore. He felt scared to touch you now, seeing how defensive you got, his little angel’s crying and it’s all because of him. Your words certainly impacted him, but he shook his head instead, he has to keep himself from looking down.

“...You shouldn’t say that either, that’s not in your script.” He said with a bit of stricter tone onto it, attempting to show you how capable he can really be. He grabbed your wrist and forced your hands open, revealing your terrified expression. “Don’t worry...It’s just a little twist on the story, I’m sure. I just have to restart the system, right...?”

“I-I’ll fix you up soon enough, H-Honey~” You watched him with eyes slowly widening in realization and terror as he started to untie his tie, to remove the birthday outfit that he clearly dislikes. You were frozen, you can’t move, not like you could do much with someone as big as Idia straddling above your stomach but you were left immobile with fear. His use of love words sounds extremely clumsy and Idia himself cringes at the sound of it coming from his own mouth but he’s enthusiastic. That doesn’t make it any less terrifying for you at all.

The game’s not finish yet. It’s just as he expected, there was a little glitch that needs a little fixing. It was the cause of a scenario as unreasonable as this one to appear. But it’s fine. He can fix it all up, he can fix you all up and when he’s done with that, he’ll definitely conquer your route for real this time.

After all, there’s no game that he can’t finish, that would be a shame to his Otaku title! It doesn’t matter if it’s his birthday, he’s going to work all night to fix this very unpleasant glitch in you. What a pain~ Idia wonders what kind of price he’ll get from you after this.

...Not that he’s going to complain anytime soon lol

Idia has the personality of an ugly bastard. Just saying *cough*

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #idia shroud #yandere idia shroud #Birthday Crumbs

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wordsfromthesol · 4 years ago

Text

The Interview

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: Your name slips in one of Dick Grayson's interviews and creates issues in every aspect of your life. Word Count: 1.2k

Part Two

"So I'm joined here with Richard Grayson, the eldest son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And really there is just one question on everyone's mind. Where were you during his charity event this past weekend? You certainly weren't there, and Wayne enterprises had no recollection of a business trip. Have you had a falling out with your father?"

"Please, call me Dick. And I didn't know I would be bombarded with conspiracy theories this early in the morning." Dick was attempting to buy himself as much time as possible to formulate a lie. "Unfortunately, the real answer is much less superfluous. Y/N was quite ill, so I thought my time was best spent tending to her." Why your name popped in his head, he still wasn't sure.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Is your girlfriend doing better now?" The interviewer didn't know exactly who this "Y/N" person that Dick referred to was, but they were determined to find out.

"Yes yes, she's as good as new." Dick didn't bother correcting your assumed status. It was just one short interview on the morning gossip channel. What more could come of it? Or so he thought...

You always ran late on Monday mornings and today was no different. Racing through the office corridor, you didn't even notice the obvious stares from coworkers. Almost as soon as you sat down at your desk your coworker Josh darted towards you.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. WHY WOULD YOU NOT TELL ME?!"

"Uh…you're going to have to be a bit more specific." Your eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Dick Grayson?!" Josh exclaimed the name as if something should be obvious.

"Okay…not very helpful. We've been friends for years? You knew this. Did something happen to him?" You were still utterly confused about his sudden outburst.

"Friends" he scoffed at the apathetic use of the word before pulling out his phone. Within seconds you were watching the interview clip from this morning's talk show.

"Heh, right. About that…can you just give me a minute?" Your voice unconsciously went up several octaves as you stuttered out the sentence. Josh glared at you with a suspicious look in his eyes as you scurried off to the bathroom. Anger bubbled up inside you as you made sure the bathroom was clear before punching Dick's number into your phone.

"Y/N, what's up?" Dick's casual greeting was the last straw.

"Are you KIDDING me?! WHAT'S UP?!" The exasperated words poured out of you.

"Heh…you uh saw the interview then." He quickly learned his mistake after the interview clip accumulated hundreds of thousands of views in a matter of hours.

"Want to explain further, please. I'd like to know why I'm involved in this lie. Which will be heard by millions of people." A sour taste lingered in your mouth as you waited for his response.

"It's no big deal really. I just kinda needed an alibi. For why I wasn't at dear old dad's latest soiree."

"Alibi? I'm sorry is my best friend a criminal now?"

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous." Dick tried to console you, but he was met with silence. You refused to budge on this matter, you needed a proper explanation. Dick finally let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine alright. I'll explain tonight. I can't talk about this over the phone."

"Seriously Dick, if you go to prison, I'm not waiting for you." Normally the quip would have been a joke, but at this point even you were unsure.

You took a moment to compose yourself before stepping out of the bathroom. Instead of walking back to your desk you immediately went towards your supervisor's office. There was no way you could get through the workday now; the barrage of questions would never cease.

Feigning a cough, you slowly entered their office. "I'm not feeling very *cough* well. I think it's *cough* best if I head home." There was no way your rouse was fooling them, but thankfully they let you go home anyways. If only you made it that far.

You woke up in a shitty motel room, arms tied to the headboard. "Aye Boss! The bitch is awake!" You heard the scream resonate through your mind as you blinked past the confusion.

"Finally," a brutish man plodded into the room. "You're that Wayne kid's girl. Right?" Though he phrased it as a question, he didn't wait for an answer. "Time to call the rich brat. You're gunna fetch me a pretty penny." A sordid smile graced across his lips as he grabbed your phone from the counter. It didn't take long for the device to start ringing, Dick's photo flashing across the screen.

"Y/N/N, I told you, we will talk tonight. I need sleep." You could hear the sleep deprivation in his voice.

"Oh dear boy, unfortunately, this is not your Y/N/N."

Dick's tone immediately changed into one you had not heard before, one laced with fury and panic. "Is she safe? What do you want?"

"Momentarily, and how do you put a price on human. On someone you love so dearly?" The sarcastic words fell effortlessly from your captor's lips. Like this was nothing, just a typical Monday. "Oh I know, how about 2 million."

"Let me speak to her." Had he done this before? The question rant through your mind as the gag was removed from your lips.

"Speak!" Your captor demanded.

"Dick…?" His name came out as more of a question. For some reason, you hoped he knew what was going on. Or perhaps this was all just some terrible nightmare.

"Sweetheart, just stay calm. I'm going to get you out of this. Are you hurt?"

"I…I'm fine…" you stammered out, knowing that one wrong move could make that statement obsolete.

"Alright lovebirds. That's enough. You have 2 hours to get the money." Before Dick could answer, the man hung up the phone and sauntered into the next room. "Well, looks like we got true love here fellas. The boy is gunna pay up." You heard at least 3 people howl with excitement…there goes your hope for escape.

The first hour passed by agonizingly slow and your mind began to betray you. What if he won't pay? He will right? He's been your best friend for years. Two million wasn't too much. He would pay. Even if he asked Bruce for the money…he would pay…Right? He wouldn't just leave you there at the mercy of these -- the intrusive thoughts were interrupted by an explosion emanating from the other room. A few screams and grunts later, Nightwing appeared in the doorway.

"Y/N! Thank God you're okay!" He raced over to you, tugging at the ropes securing your arms to the headboard.

"Uh…Thanks?" You said while rubbing your wrists, still confused as to why the vigilante was here in the first place. "If you don't mind, I need to go kill my best friend now."

"Really? After I just saved you?" A smug smirk formed on his face as your mind pieced together the puzzle.

"Dick?! Seriously? This is why you needed an alibi?!"

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my-unmanageable-mischief · 4 years ago

Text

Love Triangle

For the Anon who requested : Can u write something like the james/lily/snape thingy but with harry/draco/reader where the reader ultimately ends up with harry?

When you were sorted into Gryffindor, you felt like your world had ended. You were going to disappoint your father, you were going to lose your best friend, Draco, and you weren’t going to be a lonely outcast. At 11 everything is the end of the world. However, you were lucky, unbelievably so. Your parents eventually came around, “At least we know she’s brave,” he had said. And while you spent the first few months of school without Draco, he had come around as well. You were still best mates, thicker than thieves. A shining example of inter-house friendships. Even if you did tease each other mercilessly. You even found friends and a home within Gryffindor. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had become your best friends- despite Draco’s protests.

Years later, you were a 6th year now, one more year until you graduated, and you were content with everything you had in your life. But change was on the horizon. Draco wasn’t acting himself, and frankly, neither was Harry. You worried about both of them, worried for them. Draco had missed two of your Friday study sessions in a row, a tradition since you were 11. And Harry was so caught up in that book and his own head when you were with him, he wasn’t even there.

You were sitting in the common room, Harry and Hermione were bickering about his potions book and Ron was sitting by the fire ignoring them. You were lost in thought. The mention of your inner thoughts brought you into the current conversation.

“Draco is a death eater, I know it.” Harry barked at Hermione, who glanced quickly at you then back to Harry.

“Harry…” She started but you cut her off.

“No, he isn’t,” You snapped, and Harry’s gaze turned to you, souring.

“Of course you’d say that,”

“Because he isn’t.” You held his gaze with your own, “You’re overreacting, a habit really.”

“I saw him in Knockturn Alley this summer, Y/N, what respectable wizard goes there?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,”

“His father is one,”

“And everyone is exactly like their father? You don’t know him.”

“And I don’t care to, how you're his friend I’ll never know,” He scoffed, and you continued to glare at him.

“It’s cause he’s got a crush on her,” Ron added from the carpet below them. “She likes the attention,”

“Ron!” Hermione snapped, and you turned your glare from Harry to him.

“I like the attention?” He merely shrugged, looking away again. “I see. Fine. I’ll leave you lot to it then.” You gathered your books, shoving them into your satchel before huffing and storming towards the girl’s dorm. Hermione continued to glare at both boys.

“Why would you say that?” She questioned, Ron shrugged again. “You two are impossible.”

“You birds are always annoyed by something,” Ron shook his head. Hermione let out a huff similar to yours and followed your actions, gathering her own things. “Hey, what about helping me with charms?” Ron asked, Hermione, shook her head, still glaring.

“Do it yourself.” She, too, stormed towards the girl’s stairs. The boys sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other.

“You didn’t need to say that,” Harry finally mumbled, Ron sat up, looking at his friend.

“It’s true, she likes the attention he gives her, it’s a girl thing.”

“Maybe she likes it because she likes him,” Harry suggested and Ron made a face.

“How could she?” Harry simply shrugged, looking down at the cover of his worn-out book. “You should tell her mate,”

“Tell her what?”

“That you like her, and that you can give her attention.”

“She doesn’t want that,” Harry stood up as well, grabbing his bag, “I’m going to bed.” Ron hopped up as well.

“Yeah, I’ll come too.”

In the girl’s room, you and Hermione sat on her bed, both steaming. Hermione sat up straight, ranting, her hands flying a mile a minute, as you lounged back against her pillows, arms crossed, head nodding in agreement.

“They’re both terrible! I don’t get it, Harry, with his book, and his head up his arse, doesn’t even see what is really going on around him, he just talks, he’s clueless! And Ron, don’t get my started on Ron, he’s a thick-headed git, he-”

“I’d hate to see you started.” You joked smirking slightly and Hermione chuckled, dropping her hands.

“I’m sorry they were being rotten to you,” You shrugged, playing with the hem of her duvet.

“Draco isn’t a death eater, I’d know.” You murmured and Hermione nodded. “He isn’t, Harry just hates him for no reason,”

“They hate each other,” She corrected gently, “It’s mutual, they always have. Harry is... jealous.”

“Jealous?” You laughed, rolling your eyes, “What do you mean?”

“Draco does like you-”

“Hermione not this again,”

“Come on it’s obvious.” You shook your head, rolling your eyes, “He’s always loved you,”

“Okay? So? Maybe? But why on earth should Harry care about who does and does not have a thing for me?” You questioned and Hermione looked at you pointedly. “No,” You shook your head wildly, “Hermione, no,”

“He likes you,”

“No, he does not,”

“Y/N, come on,”

“Hermione! You come on!” She nudged you gently, and you slumped down further into her pillows, “Come on, you’re taking the piss,”

“I’m not.” She looked at you seriously, “He likes you, and he knows Draco does too, and he doesn’t like it.”

“Why not, I don’t know, talk to me about it?”

“They’re boys,” You both chuckled at that, then there was silence for a moment as you processed it.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I didn’t think you were coming.” You looked up at your friend as he approached your usual table in the library. He looked down at his hands as he sat, he felt guilty. Good. “You’ve stood me up three weeks in a row. I almost didn’t come myself.”

“I’m sorry,” He sighed, looking up at you, “I really am,” You nodded, reaching over to put a hand on his arm, to which he flinched. You retracted your hand.

“Draco, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” You looked at him pointedly, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugged, “Nothing,”

“That might work on someone else, but I know you a bit too well to buy that, talk to me,” You prodded, and he sighed.

“You wouldn’t understand.” You nodded, placing your hands flat on the table in front of you, looking there instead of at him.

“Are you upset with me?”

“What? No, of course not.” You nodded again, shrugging.

“You’ve been ignoring me,”

“I’m sorry,”

“You mentioned,” You glanced up at him, trying to catch his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at you either.

“I’m just stressed with school and stuff,”

“Stuff?”

“I can’t talk about it, Y/N,”

“Can’t or won’t?” You questioned him, and he finally looked up, his grey eyes were dark and heavy, and he looked more serious than you had ever seen him.

“Can’t.” You nodded, holding his gaze.

“Okay,” it came out in a whisper, and it felt appropriate somehow. “I’ve missed you,” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and he reached over to grab your arm this time, squeezing.

“I always miss you, trust me, I think about you constantly.” You thought back to your conversation a few nights before with Hermione and your cheeks began to heat up. Draco tilted his head, catching it immediately, “What?”

“Nothing,” It was your turn to be invasive. Draco frowned, squeezing your arm again.

“Is that so?” You didn’t answer, you looked down at where his hand was on your arm, swallowing thickly. “Y/N?”

“Do you like me?” You asked, suddenly, looking up at the boy who was turning into a man before your eyes. Sometimes you still saw him, 8 years old, and so carefree. Those were different times. You watched him, his own thick swallow, his eyes looking around, his cheeks slightly rosy. He did. But would he tell you?

“Why?” He questioned you back, and you smirked slightly.

“Is that a yes?”

“What if it is,” He removed his hand, scratching the back of his head nervously. You paused. What if?

“I don’t know,” He nodded, face closing off, you frowned, reaching for him. “I don’t know, Draco, but it’s not bad. Okay?” He glanced up, smiling slightly.

“Whatever you say.”

You couldn’t see through your tears, you were furious. You entered the common room like a storm, looking around wildly. Where was he? You didn’t see him, so you stormed up the boy’s staircase and into the boy’s assigned room.

“What the fuck did you do,” You yelled, coming into the room and stopping in front of the boy, “What did you do!” You came up to him, pointing a finger at him, shoving it against his chest, he had the decency to look scared.

“Y/N,” Ron got up off his bed, trying to sound soothing, but you were too mad.

“He’s in the hospital wing half dead because of you!” You yelled, and Harry stood up, taking a step towards you, so you were in each other’s faces.

“Does it matter that he attacked me first?!” He asked his own voice raising.

“Guys,” Ron interjected. “Please,”

“Shut up,” You both yelled.

“You could have killed him!”

“Why are you protecting him, Y/N, he’s a death eater!” You pushed your hand into his chest and he grabbed it, pulling you closer, “Maybe you’re one too,” You shoved at him, backing away.

“You’re insane, you’re... you’re... the worst!” You couldn’t even formulate words right now you were so angry. “Never speak to me again!”

“My pleasure!” You stormed from the room as quickly as you had come in, going back towards the hospital wing. Harry continued to seethe, and Ron watched him, worried.

“Mate?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

A month went by with little to no communication between you and Harry, and it hurt you more than you would like to admit. You could see he was struggling, and you wanted to be able to go to him, to ask him what was wrong. But you were still so mad. Hermione came to you one morning, looking worried, she grabbed you from the common room and took you to somewhere you could talk privately.

“I need you to talk to Harry,” You opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off continuing, “Please, whatever differences you have, you need to. He won’t listen to anyone else.”

“Hermione? What’s going on?” You were worried now, watching her in panic.

“He’s going... somewhere with Dumbledore, somewhere dangerous, he won’t talk about it, but it’s something to do with You Know Who,” You nodded, glancing around to make sure you were still alone.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell him not to!” She cried, grabbing at the front of your robes, “Please, I have a bad feeling, he won’t even talk to Ron about it.” You nodded, placing your hands over her hands and squeezing.

“Where is he?”

“Harry?” You knocked on the slightly ajar door of an empty classroom before letting yourself in, closing the door behind you.

“I thought we were never speaking again,” He didn’t even look up, you shrugged, coming to sit on a desk a few away from him.

“Ron and Hermione are worried about you,” He scoffed, looking out one of the large classroom windows.

“And why do you care?”

“Because you’re my friend, even when I’m upset with you, and I care about you.” You answered honestly. “Because I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He shrugged this time, before crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m fine,”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” He snapped. You were quiet for a moment, before getting up to move closer to the boy.

“Talk to me, please,” He tensed slightly, and you could tell he was trying not to look at you, “Where are you going with Dumbledore?”

“Y/N, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, Harry, it does.” You touched his arm gently, trying to get him to look at you, “Please.”

“We’re going to destroy a Horcrux.” He finally whispered, “It’s... a piece of Voldemort, he can’t die until we destroy them all. That’s the short version.” You nodded, squeezing his arm. Finally, he glanced over at you, “and you’re not going to talk me out of it,” You smiled sadly.

“I didn’t think I could.” He returned the small smile.

“You’ve always known me best,” You smiled more, tilting your head.

“It’s my job.” He chuckled slightly, “When do you go?”

“Tonight.” You nodded, before removing your hand from his arm and wrapping them both around him in a tight hug. It took a moment, but he returned it, holding you close.

“I’m sorry,”

“For?”

“Everything mean I’ve ever said to you,” You chuckled, resting your chin on his shoulder as you embraced.

“I forgive you,” You assured him, squeezing him tighter, “Just please be safe, I want you back here in one piece, you hear me?” He nodded and released you finally.

“Y/N...”

“Hmm?” You asked, looking at him as his hands remained on each of your arms. They went from your biceps down, before eventually, he was clasping both of your hands in his.

“You mean the world to me, you know that right?” You smiled softly, meeting his eye.

“I do now,” You joked, and he laughed softly.

“I know you like Draco-”

“I... don’t.” You assured. You had tried to, really tried. He was your best friend, your soulmate even, but it was not meant to be romantic. Not in this life. Harry paused at that, and you watched him, watched him lean in before placing a soft kiss on your cheek, when he pulled back he was blushing deeply. You smiled and squeezed his hands before leaning in yourself to place a small kiss on his lips, “Just come back, okay?”

The castle was finally quiet, after hours of chaos. Dumbledore was dead. Rumors flew on who killed him; Draco Malfoy. Your head spun, your stomach lurched. You didn’t want to believe it.

“Y/N?” Hermione whispered, her hand finding your hand, “Are your parents coming to get you?” You shook your head, you wanted to cry, but you couldn’t. Ron stood on her other side, and Harry was a few feet away from you. Everyone wore blank faces. Death eaters in Hogwarts. Nowhere was safe. Dumbledore was dead. No one was safe.

“No, they’re in Italy.” You spoke but it didn’t sound like yourself. You didn’t want to see them right now anyway.

“Come to the Burrow,” Ron offered easily, “Mum and Dad won’t mind,” You nodded, not really hearing him. You were looking at Harry.

“I’ll be right back,” You walked away from them without looking at them, going to stand beside the boy. You both stood in silence for a few moments before you choked back a sob, and he looked down at you.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, unable to look at him, as you were wrecked with guilt, “I’m so so sorry, I-”

“For what?” He asked, turning to face you, hands going to your shoulders.

“I didn’t believe you, and you were right,” You cried, and Harry pulled you into a tight embrace.

“It isn’t your fault,” He assured you, and you clung to him, continuing to cry into his chest.

“He was my friend, I didn’t think... I never thought...” Harry nodded, smoothing your hair back, shushing you gently.

“It’s alright, I know, I’m sorry.” You continued to hug for a few moments as you cried it out, Harry rubbing your back through it all, “It’ll be okay, we’re gonna be okay.”

#Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter request #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #Draco Malfoy #draco malloy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x gryffindor

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chaoticallysapphic · 4 years ago

Text

Oh my heart part two

Summary: Lin never expected to have a soulmate, in a world where your mark appears whenever your soulmate is born she grew up completely blank. So when she’s thirty and it finally etches itself around her arm, she vows to never be with the one meant only for her.

A/N: one more part after this! Originally I just wanted it to be a two parter but it feels better this way.

Word count: 3k

Korra was becoming overbearing with her concern for you. Once you come back to air temple island she was there waiting to rant about a theory she had regarding Asami’s father. Usually, you’d reply and give good advice, unlike Pema’s, and would remind her not to get too worked up. But instead, as she opened her mouth to begin her rant, you broke out into tears. You wouldn’t tell her why, you were too embarrassed about the rejection of your soulmate to confess, even though it would help put Korra at ease to at least be in the know. She’d probably hunt Lin down and start some kind of fight with her regarding what happened.

“Korra,” you say one night when you both are lying in your separate beds in your shared room. “Have you met your soulmate?”

“I don’t know, I’ve kept it covered” she replies softly, she props herself up on her elbow, her eyes narrowing in the darkness, which you don’t notice. “Even with all these new people we’ve met?” your voice is soft, almost a bit hesitant of your inquiry.

“I like Mako, but I’ve seen his mark and it’s not what I said to him, I don’t want to confuse myself by looking” she sits up fully, “Is that why you're so sad, did you meet yours?”

“They didn’t want me..." You roll over so your back is facing your sister. Korra tries to pry it out of you, her voice laced with quiet rage but you simply squeeze your eyes shut and tune her out.

The next morning, Korra doesn't leave your side, she tries multiple times to get the truth out of you, but you always tell her to drop it and walk away. Later on, she reluctantly leaves to do some avatar stuff and asks Pema to keep you company. Pema was nice and in moments like these when you wished your mom was around to comfort you she was the second-best thing. Both of you are sitting at a table, teacups in your hands as the laughter of the kids can be heard from out the window.

"Korra told me what happened" Pema finally breaks the silence, it knocks you out of your thoughts and you harshly set the cup down onto the table, some of the contents of the cup sloshing out from the sides. "That was between us" you spit out.

"Tenzin tells me a lot of things and he's a man so I don't think he's pieced any of it together but… " Pema purses her lips and sets her teacup down onto the table, gently. "It's Lin, isn't it?" Sadness trickles down your throat and wraps itself around your insides, suddenly the door you'd hastily locked to keep yourself from crying in front of anyone busted open, and with it a tidal wave of tears. Pema pushes herself up off the floor and sits down next to you, albeit it takes her a few minutes to get there in her pregnant state. She wraps her arms around you and pulls you in tightly. You let your head fall onto her shoulder as you weep, your shoulders shake as the feeling of loneliness rocks you to your core.

“She doesn’t want me,” your voice is muffled but Pema hears you perfectly, she shushes you, running her hand soothingly through your hair. For what feels like hours all that can be heard is the sound of your strangled breaths and Pema’s humming. She slowly pulls away from you, panic rises in you and you try to stay within her arms but she places her hands on your shoulders to keep you from doing so.

Her hands reach up to your face, wiping away the tears that continue to seep out of your eyes. “I think part of Lin’s hesitation has to do with me,” she begins, your brows furrowed in confusion but before you can ask any questions, she continues “A long time ago Lin and Tenzin were together, he hadn’t met me yet but I knew he was it, even without having spoken to him. So when I saw him pulling away from her, I finally made my move and admitted I was his soulmate, the woman who could make him happy.”

Lin and Tenzin?... jealousy bubbles up in your throat which you try to push down, that was forever ago but maybe, she still loved him. Maybe that was part of the reason she rejected you. Pema pulled you out of your thoughts, brushing some of your hair out of your face in a motherly way. “I think because of that, she doesn’t think anyone else can love her.”

“But I’m her soulmate” you respond, sure you didn’t love her yet but you knew you felt something, ever since your discovery at the arena you’ve dreamt of being wrapped up in her arms once more, to be so close to her you can see every detail in her gorgeous green eyes. These dreams that fill you with pain and longing when you wake up, feel so unattainable now due to her swift rejection.

“Lin is a very confusing person, I think you need to try again and show her you won’t take no for an answer.” Pema’s words swirl around your mind as you try to think up a plan, her advice she gave to Korra a few weeks ago may have been bad but this seemed like it might work. If not then at least you wouldn’t stay awake at night wondering what if.

------

Before you can even formulate a plan on winning Lin over, Korra drags you off to help her with something important. She’s talking a mile a minute while Naga weaves past mobiles and dodges anyone who enters her path. The sun is high in the sky, marking that it's roughly midday and families are walking down the sidewalk together, couples are hand in hand, laughing about something the other has said. A part of you wonders what it might be like if Lin does decide to give the two of you a shot. She doesn’t seem like the kind of person to show affection in public, but what about behind closed doors?

Due to how fast Korra is talking along with you getting lost with the idea of Lin, you don’t pick up a single word she’s been saying, so when the polar dog finally stops in front of a warehouse that is in the middle of getting raided, you're a little confused, to say the least. You both climb down and walk towards the entrance where Tenzin and Lin are talking, that childish feeling of jealousy hits you at the sight of them talking and you mentally scold yourself for it. Tenzin is happily married to his soulmate, you remind yourself.

“Found anything?” Korra calls out, catching the attention of the two master benders. Lin’s eyes land on you and for a split second a look of sadness and pain crosses through her features but she quickly smothers it down with her usual scowl. It seems only you notice that momentary slip up as Tenzin begins telling you and Korra, even though honestly you aren’t listening, about whatever has gone on since she’s been gone.

Apparently, Korra believed Asami’s father to be an equalist which seemed a bit far fetched, he did sponsor her pro-bending team, right? But you trust your little sister and so when they find his factory to be empty, you place a gentle hand on her shoulder to offer her some form of comfort.

“It would appear Hiroshi is innocent” Lin finally speaks up with her arms crossed, since that first glance when you arrived, her eyes have been set on Korra. It stings to know she’s ignoring you but right now is about helping your sister and getting to the bottom of this. Asami waltzes up to the four of you with Mako by her side. “Okay, you did your search. Now you can all leave.” Korra ignores Asami and walks off to talk to Mako, leaving you alone.

“I can’t believe your in on this” Asami says to you, for the most part, you’ve stayed out of Korra’s drama, only lending her advice in private and helping her out when it came to equalists or Tarlock. You let out a sigh and look away from her gaze “she’s my sister Asami and she wouldn’t do something like this without reason.”

“Well he’s my father and he’s innocent, your sister is dragging him through the mud over a misinterpreted conversation” she fires back. Asami glares at you, taking a step closer to you to most likely try to get you all to back down. Before you can even think up a retort Lin, surprisingly, speaks up. “Ms. Sato, during these hard times we can’t leave any stone unturned, the warehouse is empty so you don’t need to worry about us anymore.”

Asami walks off with Mako’s arm slung around her shoulder and Korra all but storms back over with a defeated look on her face, you side glance Lin, who isn’t even paying you any attention anymore. She was probably just trying to keep a fight from breaking out, you tell yourself, she doesn’t care about you. But then Pema’s advice rings through your head, louder than the self-deprecating thoughts and you try to remind yourself that maybe Lin does care about you, hopefully.

After talking to the mystery man at midnight who ends up giving valuable information involving Hiroshi, a plan is set in place. You're all in a police force blimp, if not for the situation at hand you’d be marveling at the machinery with unbridled joy. You’ve never been on something like this before, sure the South Pole isn’t behind on the times but they don’t have any form of aircraft. “Raiding the Sato mansion is risky with Tarlock breathing down your neck. If we’re wrong-”

“I know. I can kiss my job goodbye. But protecting republic city is all I care about. We can’t let Amon get his hands on this new weapon” Lin says, effectively cutting Tenzin off. You stand a few paces behind them, fiddling with your hands as you eavesdrop on them. You want to get to know her, and Lin’s words offer you a piece of information regarding her personality and life without even meaning to. She’s a good person, she might have hurt you but she’s good and that warms your aching heart just a bit.

There are so many horror stories of people's soulmates being monsters, of being chained to someone who doesn’t treat them right that at least the universe decided to spare you on that front. You shake yourself of your thoughts, now is not the time to lose yourself over Lin, and soon enough you land in front of the Sato mansion, once inside Asami puts up quite a fight over her father's innocence which you don’t blame her for. If the roles were reversed you’d probably have already gotten physical with whoever tried to hurt your dad.

The workshop behind the house is small and empty, the policemen try to find any sort of nefarious plans hidden in drawers or boxes but once again come up empty-handed, the confusing part though is how Hiroshi is also nowhere to be found. There isn’t a connecting room where he may be and there aren't any windows he may have left from. “Chief, the estate has been secured, no one has left since we’ve arrived,” an officer tells Lin.

“Perhaps we just couldn’t see him leaving” she replies as she walks over to the center of the room, you step to the side as Korra had sort of stepped in front of you protectively when you entered the workshop, to see what she’s doing. What she does next you’ve heard of but never seen, many talk about the way Toph Beifong revolutionized earth bending, not only by learning to bend metal but also with her aseismic senses. She bends the metal off her foot and slams it down onto the ground. Lin closes her eyes and for a few seconds remains completely still.

“There’s a tunnel beneath the workshop running deep into the mountainside.” Your eyes widen at the discovery, maybe sometime in the future, if you and Lin do work it out you can gush about how much you admire her bending abilities, how truly powerful she is. Asami interrupts your daydream with her denial of such a thing, you do admire her loyalty to her father and his innocence and you honestly don’t want to see her reaction if he is an equalist.

Lin effortlessly bends a piece of metal from the floor and slams it into the wall, showcasing a staircase that leads down, just like she said. You grab onto Korra’s hand knowing she probably wants to race down immediately to find out what lurks below. “Maybe you don’t know everything about your father,” Korra says in an apologetic tone, looking over at Asami, “I’m sorry.”

Lin orders the officers to go down first and as you make your way to the stairs, Lin stops you. “Uh-uh, you four stay up here, officer so-” you scoff, going to push past her but she clamps a hand down onto your shoulder. “That includes you too.”

“I am not letting my little sister go down there without me, I can handle myself” You shrug Lins handoff and push past her to make your way down the stairs, her voice stops you as you take your first step down. “I’m the chief of police and I am order-” you look over your shoulder at Lin who looks completely composed, it irks you that right now she’s trying to control you, acting like she has some sort of say over your actions.

“Yeah and I don’t care, family trumps law enforcement” you reply, effectively ending the conversation.

“Wait, does that mean we can go down to?” you hear Boin ask from up above, Lin barks out a no as she follows after you, most likely scowling no doubt. On the tram that speeds downward, Lin approaches you with her hands held behind her back, she’s still scowling from earlier, but her expression softens just a fraction when you look into her eyes.

“Stay in the back and out of trouble” she orders, Korra and Tenzin are on the other side of the tram, out of earshot. You push off the railing and take a step closer until your chests are touching, maintaining eye contact with her. Lin’s breath catches, which pleases you and offers you a bit of hope.

“If Korra needs me I’ll do what I must to protect her, even if that means being in the frontlines,” you say defiantly. Lin sighs, her scowl diminishing. “You shouldn’t care anyway, remember? This, us, isn’t a thing… unless you’ve changed your min-”

“I haven’t, I want you out of the way because you’ll be a nuisance to the mission if you end up hurt or in need of help,” she says, taking a small step away from you before stalking off. Your shoulders sag, oh. Pema’s encouraging words seem so quiet right now, you could really use another pep talk from her right about now. For a second it seemed like maybe she’d caved, maybe she’d finally admit at this moment on the tram that she had feelings for you and wanted to give it a shot after this raid. Your hands clench as you try to squash down any oncoming tears and sigh.

The tram lurches to a stop and you stumble forward a bit before catching yourself. You can’t let Lin be right, can’t give her the satisfaction so you square your shoulders and march out after them. An audible gasp leaves you at the sight ahead. Korra was right, all day it seemed like a wild goose chase but in front of you is a large warehouse that has banners hanging from the ceilings with Amons face on them, fear crawls through you at the memory of being electrocuted at the arena, of the explosion and Korra almost dying too many times to count.

The center of the warehouse is empty, but what lines the walls are towering, mechanical… statues? You squint in confusion at the contraptions “and I’m guessing those are the new weapons” Korra states. You take a step forward from the group but Lin grabs your forearm and pulls you away from the statues and has you stand behind her. A part of you wants to yell at her, claim you aren’t a nuisance or useless, but now doesn’t seem like the time.

“Hiroshi was lying alright, but where is he?” Tenzin asks, and as if answering his question a large metal wall shoots up from beside you, Lin pulls you away from it and if not for her you probably would have gotten killed as it slams into the roof, locking you guys inside. You look up at her and she immediately drops your arm, tearing her gaze away from you and composing herself once more. Lin steps forward and tries to metal bend the wall back down, but nothing happens, not even a slight tremor, green lights flash on within the statues as they come to life, Hiroshi’s voice suddenly surrounds them, he must be talking into a microphone.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to metal bend that wall, Chief Beifong. It’s solid platinum.” The statues make a loud whirring sound as they start to move away from their respective spots and glide towards the group, effectively cornering them. “My mecha tanks are platinum as well. Not even your renowned mother could bend a metal so pure.”

“Hiroshi, I knew you were a lying no good equalist. Come out here and-”

“And do what, young avatar? Face the wrath of your bending? No. I think I’ll fight from inside here, where my odds are a little more… equal” he cuts Korra off. Your eyes widen, not hearing what Lin says as he shoots a metal hook out of his tank's hand, you all jump away from it but the other tanks keep moving in on you.

You look around for any kind of water source, for a moment it seems like a fruitless attempt until you feel it, you whirl around and notice the metal pipe against the wall. You run-up to an officer and shout “I need you to break that pipe for me!” He stares in confusion for a minute before following your pointed finger and realizing your intentions. He rips the pipes open and water comes flooding in, you hope there's some kind of drain around here or you might have just doomed you all.

There’s no time to worry though and you bend sharp daggers made out of water and aim them at the tank closest to you, it whirls its face around to stare at its attacker and starts to advance on you, but you bend water around its feet and legs, then freeze it. While it’s immobile you send more frozen daggers at it, this time aiming for its chest and two finally penetrate the metal, causing sparks to fly out of its chest as it whirs, you bend water into the two holes, completely breaking it. Without a second to lose you move onto another that the officers are holding down with their wires and do the same to its chest. A loud crash is heard behind you and you whirl around to see that the tank Lin was on fell against a metal beam and onto the floor.

Your heart squeezes in fear until you see her standing on top of it, completely fine and a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in finally escapes with a strangled noise that probably would have embarrassed you in different circumstances. In your moment of distraction, the officers you helped had moved onto another tank, and you watch in horror as it electrocutes them by using their metal wires. The officers shout in pain as they spasm out of control before dropping to the ground.

That same tank advances on you quickly, you stumble back, slipping on the ice you had created for the first tank and fall onto it with a groan, your head slams down onto the ice and pain begins to spawn from that same spot but you can’t stop now, you can’t be a nuisance. Out of the corner of your eye, you see another one shoot its wire out at Lin and slam her against the wall. “Lin!” you shout, your eyes widening as she doesn’t move. Next Hiroshi’s tanks knock out Korra and soon after Tenzin, you're the only one awake and the tank chasing after you finally stop but doesn’t make a move to hurt you.

Hiroshi’s tank swirls around from its stance in front of Tenzin and charges at you, you bend water around the floor in front of you to create ice in hopes of stopping his advances, your starting to feel weak from the wound at the back of your head.

“I have plans for you,” Hiroshi says through his tanks microphone, it comes out a bit staticy due to the attacks but otherwise it moves like it’s still in perfect condition. You try to bend daggers at him but you can’t throw them far enough to hit him, they all fall at his tanks feet and a mocking laugh echoes through the warehouse. Something warm trickles down your neck, you hesitantly raise a hand to the back of your head and when you pull away your met with blood, it drips off your hand and onto the ice. You can’t beat them all, not alone and not in your state.

The ice begins to melt due to the heat of the room and Hiroshi shoots out a wire of his own, your heart gives out as you know what's about to happen, you close your eyes as you wait for the inevitable and are shortly encased in shocking pain, it's worse than last time, so much worse and you think you might have screamed, you're not entirely sure due to being disoriented from the millions of sharp pinpricks you feel in your bones. All to fast you once again succumb to the pain and your eyes give out.

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nimmy22 · 3 years ago

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A Mistake: Chapter 4

Cara missed her first two classes, having been knocked out into the late morning hours, courtesy of her dad. No parents were rushing to wake her up, no breakfast waiting for her, no offer for a ride to school. She woke up with a gash on her head, an abdomen that was an artwork of black and blue. The cause of it all was a dealer who had no stock to sell. His suppliers suddenly cut all contact leaving her parents without their fix.

Last night her dad came home seconds from exploding. He almost broke down the door as he struggled to open it in his drunken stupor, nose flaring and teeth grinding into dust even before his eyes locked on her. While these beatings were nothing new to Cara, she will admit that his hand was extra heavy yesterday, evidenced by the deeper shades on her skin. Her mother didn't even have to add anything into the mix, satisfied by her husband's handiwork.

Cara just couldn't wait to leave, but money was a dilemma. She tried her best to get the odd job here and there, whatever she could find, really. Things were even more difficult since her parent recently took to stealing her hard-earned money, ransacking her bedroom for anything worth selling. Not even the mattress stuffing or the soles of her shoes were a safe place.

Adding to her troubles was the potential loss of a job. She could no longer babysit Sherry and hasn't been contacted by the Birkins. Still, perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. After all, these people were beyond dangerous, and she would do just about anything to never meet that man again. It still broke her heart to be cut away from such a sweet little girl, the separation was sudden, and god knows how hard that must've hit Sherry, losing one of the few people she trusted.

As expected, both her parents were gone. They were likely fishing for another dealer, and if they did not find what they were looking for, she knew what will be waiting for her tonight. It was better to stay away from home for now, and it didn't matter where.

While the other bruises were easier to hide, the limp in her walk was too obvious. She had just finished formulating a story by the time she made it to her third class, auto-mechanics. Usually, people ate up her stories without a problem, curbing their questions as their concern lacked genuinely. The real issue was Claire. She'll spit the story right out without even tasting it.

Claire was already waiting in their usual spot. Despite the pain, Cara tried her best to be as subtle as possible but attempting the once flawless movement of her legs took a considerable amount of control.

"Hey, you," Claire cracked a smile as soon as she spotted her friend. "Missed you at lunch. Actually, missed you for like half the day. Where've you been off to? Could've invited me too."

" Stayed up too long watching reruns and then ended up sleeping in. I scared my mom this morning when I came out of my room. She thought I was a burglar." Cara giggled over her lies, struggling to fight the grimace as she took a seat. Thankfully, Claire didn't seem to notice, leaning back in her chair to put up her red hair into a high ponytail. Care relaxed inwardly, feeling safe from the questions.... for now.

Half an hour later, Claire slid beneath the car donated to the school while Cara sat next to her on the floor leaning against the door. Cara was glad. This way, she could finally slouch over and breathe, gladly keeping the weight off her bad leg. The radio played a series of pointless advertisements adding nothing valuable to the background noise. Mr. Crawford liked the radio host, but Cara thought he simply lived to promote Michael Warren or was paid handsomely to do so. Sure, the mayor had done much for the city. Still, she found all this prosperity odd, especially under such a short period of time. Something smelled fishy.

"This shit can't be fixed," Claire grumbled, sliding out from below the hunk of metal, tossing the greasy gloves next to her on the floor. The car was so weathered the paint came off in large chips as she peeled whatever was left of it on the door.

"Something Claire Redfield can't fix? Well, that's a surprise." Cara giggled, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't fix what's not there. Half the parts are missing. The idiot who donated the car must've stolen it, took whatever was worth shit, and donated the rest to get rid of the evidence."

"Looks like you've been hanging around the station too long. What, are you going to start an investigation now?"

"If I wanted that bike upgrade, then I obviously need money, and you know I don't like asking my brother for money. But what I don't mind asking for is a job around the station. Pretty much everyone knows me by now. It's like a foot in the door. I'll just annoy them until it's official."

"Once they hire you as a janitor, don't forget about me. Then we can break into the records room where they keep all those juicy storybooks."

"Okay, that's a fun idea. But here's another idea! How about we not get my brother fired along with us. Plus, you forget where we live. Nothing major happens around here."

"That's where you're wrong," Cara whispered before mentally slapping herself. She tensed, begging higher entities that Claire heard nothing.

"What do you mean?" Claire perked up, reminding her of a puppy who heard the sound of the treat bag opening.

"Oh, nothing," Cara tried to play it off, not want her friend to dig deeper. If there was one thing she learned last Friday, it was to keep her mouth effectively shut. She was already screwing herself over and placing a friend in danger. Her pulse began racing with the prospect that she already said too much.

"Cara," Claire crawled towards her friend, a threat in he voice. "You heard something or...saw something? You can tell me, I'm your friend. Chris and I will always be there for you."

"I know. You remind me of that every day. It's not a big deal. I'm just worried about the level of stupidity in this town. I've heard about the three seniors who got caught breaking into Kendo's gun shop last night. He had them lined up on their knees with their hands behind their head by the time the cops came. The whole street watched them."

"Ugh, I've never seen someone do something as stupid in my life. Had to hear all about it from Chris. In fact, that's all he talked about last night and this morning. Don't get in the wrong crowds, bluh bluh. Guns are bad bluh bluh." As claire grumbled through her rant, Cara knew she had successfully steered the boat to safety.

"Well, it's nice to have a brother. I wouldn't mind a lecture or two."

"Oh honey, I can help with that," Claire cocked her head to the side with a gleam in her eyes.

"No, yours are excluded."

"Oh, ha ha, you'll be begging for it one day. Now be a good girl and be on the watch out. I'm taking a nap." Claire said, sliding back below the car before getting into a comfortable position. "Oh, and give me a foot massage while you're at it,"

"It'll cost you."

"Wait till I hear back about a job, and then we'll talk,"

They stayed like that, Claire breathing softly while Cara listened absentmindedly at the radio. Her thoughts were yet again plagued by the events of last Friday. It was suffocating having to mentally recover from something so scarring and no one around her knowing a thing. She had no one to talk to. The words of the host were starting to become much more appealing than her thoughts.

"Michael Warren did so much for Raccoon decades before he was mayor, but with him in power, we're doing so much better, growing faster than ever before. We all gotta thank him for that, you know? Everyone was skeptical about big pharma moving in, but he made a good partnership with them, and the jobs came raining down. Have you seen the homeless folk on the streets? No, cause they all got help, been offered good jobs, their lives are turned for the better. Y'all look at the jails. They are pretty much empty. Nobody needs to turn to stealing for a living when good-paying work is right in front of them." The host trailed on, with Cara barely listening to the shameless paid promotion. The supposed decrease in crime seems a bit far-fetched to Cara. Maybe the robbers, murders, fraudsters, and rapists just moved their activity to the next town over for whatever reason, much like her dad and his dealings? But if there were so many work opportunities, why couldn't someone come 'help' her parents? Uproot them out of the dark pit they dug?

"Hey, you coming?"

"What?" Cara snapped back to reality, realizing Claire was already on her feet, stretching her back.

"The assembly?"

"Oh...?" Cara frowned, forcing a straight face as she pulled her aching body up.

"I guess I can't blame you. You did miss half the day. Come on, I want to get a seat in the very back, makes for a speedy getaway." Claire was already out the door, staring back at her friend with her hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot.

"You go ahead and reserve me a seat. I just need to go to the washroom." Cara said, hoping to walk to the gym at a slower, less painful pace.

"Fine, but don't be too long," Claire said before jogging away.

Taking her sweet time, Cara turned a 5-minute walk to the gym into 10 minutes, but even then, that was still an exhausting mission. Soon she was seated next to Claire with the rest of the students as they waited for the presenter.

The gym was in a state of chaos. Everyone talked over the other. But this was not a surprising thing considering it was the last period of the day and the events of last night.

When Cara looked over the stage, she was surprised, seeing a banner with the Racoon police department STARS name on it. Great, it was another talk with the cops, most likely about drugs and whatnot.

"Hey, maybe your brother is here,"

"Chris? He would've told me,"

A throat clearing next to the speaker's podium failed to get the attention of the kids. It was followed by a very authoritative "Attention,"

Cara never experienced so much power put into a single word, but it was loaded, and it succeeded in forcing everyone to smack their lips shut.

For a few seconds, she was staring but unable to focus, her muscles tensed, ready to make a break for it. She held her breath, slid down her seat, covered her face with a curtain of hair, and for added measure, she put her head down. She hoped to stay hidden in the crowds of students.

It was Albert Wesker at the podium, hands resting on the edges. His eyes didn't have to scan the crowds for long, finding her easily. Her attempt to hid was adorable but in vain. He could track down men in another country given extraordinarily little info, and the foolish little thing thought she could hide in a measly crowd of 1200 hormone-riddled teens.

"I am Captain Albert Wesker of STARS, and five days ago, there had been an unfortunate, unfortunate accident. Maxwell Robford was barely five years older than many of you. Driving while drunk, he ended up wrapped around a tree and was incinerated along with his car. That road wasn't popular, and it would take days for someone to stumble across the wreck and give us a call. We could only recover a pile of ashes and bones to return to his family. Our hearts go to them. I'm here on behalf of STARS to urge you to stop drinking and driving because the next incident may not only result in us digging out your corpses but those of others. The morgue is no place for people so...young. That's all from me, and now my partner will add a few more words." Wesker stepped away from the podium, nodding as the other uniformed officer took over. The next speaker struggled to calm the students, who all at once started talking about the accident.

"That’s so terrible. I feel so bad for his family," Claire said, leaning her head back.

"Yeah..." Cara answered absentmindedly, unable to take away her eyes from the crooked officer. She was angry that he could come to her school and pretend to be an officer of the law concerned for the futures of the kids in the room. If anything, she could bet all the money she had that the kid died because of a foul. Maybe, Wesker himself arranged the scene before it was supposedly...discovered. Perhaps that poor kid saw something he shouldn't have and paid the price. And maybe she'll also end up in an unfortunate accident sooner or later. The thought of that sent the bile straight up. She rocked herself, mind reeling with the possibility.

"I'm going to the washroom," Cara said quietly, her voice unusually thick as she could not push the lump down. Raising from her seat, she rushed out of the gym, feeling the world closing in on her. She was barely aware of Claire calling out to her and the man on the stage who followed her with his eyes.

Completely bypassing the washroom, Cara burst through the school's back doors before throwing her back against the garbage bins, sliding to the floor. The stench didn't register as her brain tricked her into thinking she could smell burning flesh. Thinking about what the kid must have felt while burning up, she shut her eyes tightly, unable to handle such imagery. She didn't try to control her sobs, letting them overpower her without caring about who was watching.

Someone was watching, and they were amused.

"You know, it's rude to walk out while a speaker is presenting. We take the time out of our boorish days to speak to a bunch of idiots who won't hang onto a single word we say. A complete and utter waste of time." Wesker spoke, walking around the garbage can to look down at Cara. The silence came sharply as she noticed his presence. It was hard to believe the girl cowering in the corner was the same person who risked her life to protect his little Sherry.

"Did you kill him?" Cara whispered, her puffy eyes finding his.

"Who?" standing in front of her, Wesker squatted down to her level.

"You know who I am talking about."

"Still in the mood for asking questions? Do you think he will be more alive having that knowledge?" Wesker reached over with a gloved hand to push the hair away from her face, enjoying the complete mess she was. The girl was like this because of him, and he loved having that power. He didn't have to do a thing to get to her. Merely show up.

" I didn't say anything to anyone, I swear. Please just leave me alone." Her voice was octaves higher, uncaring when it fragmented at the end. Even if someone heard her, she doubted they would help. The decorated officer can make up a story more likely believable than a word out of her mouth. She was alone and wholly regretted leaving the gym. Cornering herself, she practically led him to her.

"Our encounters will only end once I say so. Now, answer this. Why were you limping?" Wesker watched as she flinched when his hand came to rest on her injured leg. He found this development displeasing. Someone trespassed on his right to be the only one to hurt her, to use her, to kill her. And correction was in order.

#resident evil #albert wesker #Albert Wesker X OC #albert wesker x oc

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morningfears · 5 years ago

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Rose Tattoo [Chapter Three]

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Calum regrets not getting Stevie’s number when he had the chance. He’s not a big believer in fate but he’s hoping that the universe will see it fit to bring them back together. What he doesn’t know is that while the universe works hard, Ashton Irwin works harder.

Word Count: 5k

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Series Masterlist!

Calum tried his best not to let his mood influence his work. Though he sometimes had no choice but to let his personal and professional lives overlap - his job wasn’t exactly the typical 9 to 5 and his home life wasn’t exactly Leave it to Beaver -, he tried to keep the influence of one to a minimum on the other. He had always, for the most part, been able to keep his composure despite any personal turmoil.

Regardless of what was happening in Calum’s life, he always tried to check it at the door. He only spoke openly in the shop about his feelings when the neon blue open sign in the window was switched off and the plate glass doors were locked. Although Calum was often a sounding board for his clients, listening intently as they spoke about their problems or discussed music with him, he never delved too much into his own life. He had pictures of his son on his station and would answer the odd question about him but talking about Tāne made him happy. The negative things, the issues that popped up every now and again, never made it inside the shop. It was easier that way, to keep that boundary up, and it was easiest to keep that boundary in place when he pretended to be unaffected by whatever existed outside of the four walls of the shop.

The situation at hand, however, was not one that he felt capable of ignoring.

Calum had been in a bad mood when he arrived at the shop. Though his moods weren’t always discernible to those who didn’t know him, there was an obvious dark cloud hanging over his head. He wasn’t exactly known to be a chatterbox but he remained stoic and somewhat sullen as he tattooed his few clients. Some of the regulars, the ones who would return no matter how he treated them, chalked it up to him being overworked. They knew that he had to put in overtime after dealing with Tāne’s illness and imagined that it was just taking a toll on him. Those who were visiting Calum for the first time just imagined that was his personality.

None of his clients took it to heart and none of them really worried about the shift in attitude. His friends, however, could tell that this wasn’t related to overworking or even to a typical bad mood; something was wrong. Ashton had a feeling that it was related to El and the impending custody battle, there was nothing else that could upset Calum that much, so, when the last client of the day left the shop, Ashton bolted the door behind him and gestured for Michael and Luke to join him in the studio where Calum was cleaning up.

“Okay,” Ashton stated as he leaned against the counter near Calum’s station, “what happened?”

Calum, who had been so focused on cleaning one particular spot that he hadn’t noticed the boys surround him, flinched at the sound of Ashton’s voice so close to him but didn’t bother looking up from his work. Instead of answering verbally, he nodded in the direction of his coat and, curious, Ashton reached out to grab the pile of black fabric from Calum’s station. He almost asked why Calum pointed out the article of clothing but, before he could open his mouth, he caught sight of an envelope sticking out of the pocket.

Michael and Luke crowded over Ashton’s shoulder, Luke easily towering over the other two, as they read over the document. It was a court order, one that outlined the details of El’s suit against Calum and why she felt the need to file for primary custody, and Ashton felt a flash of anger on behalf of his friend as he read through the document.

The shop fell silent as Ashton, Luke, and Michael processed the typed words they’d read. It was surprising that she was attempting to not only step back into Tāne’s life after several years but to gain full custody when she was the one who left in the first place. Calum lifted his head, his expression weary and his shoulders slumped, as he watched Luke lean against the doorframe and fold his arms over his chest. Michael, one of Calum’s oldest friends, breathed a deep sigh as he took a seat on an empty stool.

“They came this morning,” Calum offered as an explanation as he returned his attention to the mess at his station. Calum looked like he wanted to say more, he looked like he had so much on his mind, on the tip of his tongue, but he kept quiet as he pulled off his gloves and shook his head.

“I can’t believe she’s actually going through with this.” Ashton, who was usually the most levelheaded among them, was fuming as he paced the floor of the shop. He held the papers that Calum had been served, the ones indicating that the first hearing in the battle for custody of Tāne was fast approaching, clenched in one hand as the other ran through his inky black hair. “She has no right! She gave him up. She can’t do this.”

“She never officially gave him up,” Michael, the one most likely to play devil’s advocate, pointed out as he shifted from side to side on a stool. “She never signed the papers giving up her rights as a parent so, legally, she’s still got rights. Doesn’t mean it’s not a shitty thing for her to do, though,” he shrugged as he pulled his cap off and tossed it onto the desk beside him. “Why now? Why not two years ago?”

“Said it’s because she feels she’s in a better place in life now,” Calum answered, his tone detached and his face void of emotion as he dropped his garbage into the can before spinning to face Ashton.

“That’s bullshit. El is the same person she’s always been. And she’s not fit to take Tāne from you. If she wanted to be in his life, whatever. She’s his mother, fine. But you’ve raised him. She can’t do this.”

Calum watched as Ashton glared at the paper in his hands. He understood what Ashton was feeling because he was angry, too. He was angry that after several years of radio silence, of no birthday presents or greetings or attempts to see their son grow, El was trying to step back into Tāne’s life as if nothing happened. He was angry that she was trying to uproot their son’s life, as imperfect as it might be, only to throw him into a situation that he didn’t know and might not be comfortable in. He was angry that she felt he was an unfit parent even when he was trying his hardest.

But, most of all, he was sad. He was sad that his son wouldn’t grow up with two loving parents - or, at least, not with his mother and father. He was sad that his son wouldn’t have the same childhood that he did, one that he took for granted. He was sad that his son would someday learn the reasons behind El’s disappearance and that he would likely blame himself.

He was sad that his life hadn’t worked out the way he imagined it would.

Calum, however, didn’t want to dwell on the sadness. He wanted to move on, to get the custody battle over and to prove that he was the one who deserved to keep Tāne. What scared him, though, was the realization that, in most cases, the mother won. Whether they should or not.

“It doesn’t matter,” Calum finally said, cutting Ashton off mid-rant as he stood from his stool. “It doesn’t matter why she’s doing it, she just is. It doesn’t matter what she hopes will come from this. I just want to keep my son. If she wants to be a part of his life, fine. But she can do that here in the city. I don’t want to fight her, not anymore, but I’m going to.” Calum paused, staring at his closest friends for a long moment. It was easy to see the exhaustion on his face. He looked weary, worn from battling his thoughts and conjuring up ‘what-if’s’, and it hurt to see him that way.

Calum reached for his coat, ready to leave the shop, but he hoped that his friends would stop him. He knew that he didn’t need to be alone but he also didn’t need Tāne to see him this way. He needed to put the dealings with El out of his mind for the night, clear his head, before he even attempted to formulate a plan of action. And Ashton, the intuitive being that he was, realized this. Calum watched as Ashton grabbed his own coat.

“You’re not going home. The babysitter’s staying late tonight, remember?” Calum vaguely remembered arranging for the babysitter to stay later than she normally did but he couldn’t remember why. When he fixed Ashton with a confused stare, the older man shook his head and gestured for him to follow. “You’ll remember when we get there,” he offered, unhelpful, as they headed to the entrance. “See you guys tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder, waving goodbye to Luke and Michael before he guided Calum out of the shop.

It took Calum four blocks and several bouts of laughter from Ashton to remember that they were headed to a party one of his clients invited him to. He knew that the client, Noah, was a reporter and that he wanted to do a feature on both him and Ashton and while Ashton was thrilled for the publicity, Calum hadn’t exactly been receptive to the idea.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t flattered. He was. But he didn’t believe in the idea of celebrity when it came to his work. He was just doing what he loved and was glad that he’d been able to make a career out of it. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would be interested in reading about him and wasn’t particularly keen on opening up to the world. So, every time Noah asked, Calum refused and Ashton, the good friend he was, refused with him. However, the party was one thing that Ashton hadn’t let him say no to.

“It’s going to be fun,” Ashton assured him as they approached the bar the party was being held at. “You can get a few drinks, forget about El for the night, and then tomorrow, we can figure out what we need to do.”

“You really don’t have to get involved, mate,” Calum assured him as they checked their coats and lingered just outside the entrance for a moment. “It’s going to be a mess and I don’t want you to have to deal with that. This is my problem.”

In true Ashton fashion, he rolled his eyes before he fixed Calum with a glare. “Like I would let you deal with this on your own. I love you, man, and I love Tāne. You guys are my family and I’m not going to just stand by while something happens to that family. I’m just as much a part of this as you are.”

Calum knew that his friends loved him and his son. He knew that Ashton, as well as Michael and Luke, had his back and would never let him down but to be reminded of it so explicitly was a feeling that he couldn’t describe. It made his heart ache in the best way and he only hoped that he could adequately convey his gratitude someday. However, before he could open his mouth to thank him, Ashton shook his head.

“Come on,” he laughed, nodding toward the bar, “let’s go get a drink.”

It was only then, as they entered the actual venue, that Calum remembered who Noah worked for. He saw the red Rolling Stone logo and a few prints of more recent covers lingering around the room. It was also in that moment that he remembered who else worked for Rolling Stone.

“Seriously? Ash, mate, come on,” Calum sighed as he glanced around the bar, not so discreetly scanning the crowd for a mop of green curls.

“What?” Ashton questioned, a grin on his lips as he nudged Calum in the direction of the bar. “I’m just here to see a few friends, network a little. No ulterior motives.” He paused for a moment, his gaze locked on someone Calum couldn’t quite see, before he added, “Oh, wow. Would you look at that? That looks like Stevie. You remember? The girl you tattooed. What are the odds?”

Calum rolled his eyes at Ashton’s obviousness and craned his neck to find Stevie. It took him a moment, there were more people with green hair in attendance than he ever imagined would be the case, but he finally spotted her sitting at the bar. He felt his mood lift as he caught sight of her and it surprised him just how excited he was to get the chance to talk to her again. He’d tried not to think about her, had tried not to consider the ‘what-if’s’, but a few thoughts crossed his mind. And now, looking at her once more, he was determined not to let her get away again.

However, his short lived confidence and determination were dashed as he watched the man beside her place a hand on her jean covered thigh. “Looks like I’m too late,” he sighed, hoping his voice didn’t give away exactly how heartbroken he was.

He didn’t have the right to be upset, not when he hadn’t even expressed proper interest in her, but he felt a burning in the pit of his stomach that he likened to sadness. It was unfortunate, he would’ve liked to have gotten to know her, but he didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.

“Um, I don’t think so, mate. She doesn’t look like she’s into that guy at all,” Ashton stated, interrupting his thoughts and drawing his attention back to where Stevie sat at the bar.

Calum could see where Ashton was coming from. Stevie looked annoyed as she nudged the man’s hand away from her thigh and shifted to face away from. He could see her place her hand over her drink and tense as the man got closer to her. He didn’t have to think about it, he knew that he needed to step in. So, without even glancing at Ashton, Calum said, “I’ll find you later,” and began pushing his way through the crowd of people to get to Stevie.

*******

Stevie bit her lip as the man to her left - some asshole from accounting that couldn’t take a hint - continued talking. He’d zeroed in on her the moment she arrived at the bar and had stuck to her like a shadow. She didn’t particularly want to be at the party in the first place, she was only there because it was a celebration of Noah’s promotion, and the man (Malcom, maybe?) was only making her mood worse.

“Lighten up,” he huffed, reaching out to touch her thigh once more even though she’d shifted away from him and stopped pretending to listen to his rambling. “Don’t be a bitch. I’m just trying to be nice. It’s not like you have anyone better to talk to."

Stevie felt her skin heat and knew that her ears were red in both humiliation and anger as she tried her hardest to ignore him. She wanted to reach for the abandoned fork on the counter and stab him in the hand in hopes that he would leave her alone, however, violence was not the answer - not if she wanted to keep her job - and she didn’t want to cause a bigger scene than necessary.

So, she pulled out the oldest line in the book. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend. Leave me alone.”

“Boyfriend? Where is he, then? Stuck in traffic?” Stevie had hoped that telling him she was waiting for someone would be enough. It usually was. However, this guy seemed persistent and she imagined that it would take an actual miracle for him to leave her alone unscathed.

She opened her mouth to retort, to tell the man that it really didn’t matter, but before she could say anything, she felt an arm wrap around her waist. “I’m sorry I’m late, love,” a voice that she immediately recognized as belonging to Calum - it was hard to mistake the raspy voice and hint of an Australian accent - cut through the din of the music. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

Stevie glanced up and caught the look on Calum’s face. He looked as annoyed as she felt - she knew he’d overheard the taunting from the accountant - and she felt him squeeze her side as a gesture for her to play along. However, she didn’t need any prompting as she melted into his embrace. He was warm, warmer than her even though she’d been trapped in the stifling heat of the bar for over an hour, and he smelled like cigarettes and a cologne that made Stevie want to bury her face in his t-shirt and get lost in the scent.

She decided that that would be taking Calum’s kindness too far and simply leaned into him as she sent the accountant a sickeningly sweet smile. “It’s no problem,” she assured Calum, glancing up at him with a real smile, “I had company.” She paused for a moment, wondering if she should be as petty as she wanted, before she decided that she had nothing to lose. She shifted her gaze from Calum to the accountant and asked, “What was your name again? You told me but I didn’t care to remember it.”

Stevie felt Calum’s chest reverberate with a stifled laugh as the accountant turned a garish shade of purple and sputtered a response. She couldn’t make out what he said as he slammed his glass onto the counter and left his stool but she imagined that it was for the best as she watched him stomp through the crowd and away from her. She and Calum remained intertwined for a moment, him with his arm around her waist and her with the back of her head pressed to his chest, before they both moved away from one another.

“Um, thanks,” she mumbled as she turned to face him with a sheepish smile. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer. I don’t know why that’s so hard for some people.”

Calum frowned at her response and shook his head. “No, you don’t have to thank me. That guy shouldn’t have been an asshole.” Calum hesitated, his eyes narrowed in thought and his eyebrows furrowed, before he added, “The name thing was brutal, though. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Yeah,” Stevie laughed before she took a sip of her drink and shrugged. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

Calum smiled at this and shrugged as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Maybe I can get to know some of them.” Calum glanced around the room, Stevie wasn’t sure at what, before he returned his gaze to her. He scrutinized her for a moment - his stare should have made her feel vulnerable, his eyes were intense and his gaze was heavy, but it didn’t. She felt oddly at ease with him and wasn’t surprised when he added, “I don’t really feel like partying. You want to go get some coffee?”

She knew that she had seen something in his eyes when she was leaving the tattoo shop. She knew that there was something lingering beneath the surface, something that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say, and she had had a feeling that he’d wanted to ask her for her number. She’d been mildly disappointed when he hadn’t asked but she didn’t let herself dwell.

She was a firm believer in letting the universe find a way and it seemed as if it had.

“I’m not a big coffee drinker,” she hummed, biting back a smile as she watched Calum’s face drop. She paused, letting the slight sting of rejection linger for a moment, before she added, “I could go for a chai latte, though.”

Calum blinked, surprised at her agreement, before he released a deep breath and shook his head. “That was mean. Now I’m not sure I want to leave with you,” Calum teased as he moved to fold his arms over his chest.

“I feel like you want to be here exactly as much as I do,” Stevie pointed out with a laugh as she reached for her bag and stood from her stool. “There’s a really good cafe right down the street. What do you say?”

Calum remained silent for a moment. Stevie met his gaze, her eyebrows raised, and watched as a small smile quirked his lips. “I say, lead the way.”

Stevie shot Calum a bright grin as she gestured for him to follow her. The pair weaved through the crowd - neither of them spotted Ashton and Noah grinning at one another as they did so - and gathered their coats before they stepped out into the cool night air. Nothing was said as they wandered down the sidewalk, still busy despite the time, in search of the cafe Stevie loved. The bar they were in wasn’t very far from the Rolling Stone office and she felt comfortable here, wandering her neighborhood.

Calum looked like he belonged there, beside her, but it felt strange to be accompanied by someone who wasn’t Noah as they stepped into the cafe. She hadn’t really attempted to make too many friends in New York, she hadn’t exactly been in the mood for companionship, but something about Calum felt right. He felt natural, as easy as breathing, and Stevie didn’t want to let a good thing pass her by.

“I take it you’re getting the chai latte,” Calum hummed as they stood in front of the counter and glanced up at the menu boards. When Stevie nodded, a small smile on her lips as she could already smell her tea being brewed - some might call it a problem when the staff knows you well enough to prepare your order the moment you walk in, Stevie called it convenient - Calum nodded himself. “I think that’s what I’ll have, too.” Calum stepped to the counter to order and, to Stevie’s surprise, added her drink to his tab.

“Wait, no. Don’t do that! I can buy my own drink,” she protested as she pulled her wallet out of her bag and attempted to hand the barista her cash.

“I’ve got it,” Calum laughed as he nudged her hand away. “Think of it as an apology for putting you through twelve hours of pain. How’s the tattoo healing, by the way?”

Stevie glared at him for a moment but, upon realizing he wasn’t going to relent about the drink, huffed and shoved her wallet back into her bag. “It’s good,” she nodded as they took seats at a small table beside the window. “It looks great. Thank you, again. I don’t think I could’ve gotten a better artist for the first tattoo. Angela would’ve loved it.”

Calum smiled at this, a sincere look of happiness on his face, as he shrugged. “I’m sure you could’ve but I’m glad you think so.” He paused, thinking back to their first meeting, before he asked, “You said it’s part of a bucket list, right? What else is on it?”

“A few cheesy things and a few very Angela things,” Stevie answered with a shrug as the barista placed their drinks on the table before disappearing to the back. “Go ice skating in an outdoor rink, go to the top of the Empire State building, go for a walk in Central Park, play roller derby, be in a race of some kind - she didn’t specify. A pretty even mixture of super cheesy New York things that I’m excited to do and a few kind of terrifying things I wish she was here to do instead.”

Calum’s eyes widened at Stevie’s description of the bucket list and he nodded appreciatively as he sipped at his latte. “That’s a lot to take on. I don’t think I feel so bad about the pain I put you through the tattoo anymore. Roller derby sounds rough.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad,” Stevie shrugged before she took a sip of her own latte. “I went roller skating ever weekend when I was a kid. There wasn’t much else to do. Funny thing, the Empire State Building is the one I’m most afraid of. I’m terrified of heights.”

Calum laughed at Stevie’s admission, somehow not surprised that a girl who wasn’t even slightly nervous about roller derby was terrified of visiting the observation deck of a tourist attraction. “It’s not that bad,” he assured her with a light laugh as he met her gaze again. “Tāne’s terrified of heights and he liked the view. You kind of forget about how high up you are and just have to appreciate how beautiful New York is from there.”

“How is he, by the way?” Stevie asked, referencing Calum’s son who had been dreadfully sick the last time - which was also the first - she’d seen him.

“He’s better,” Calum nodded, a small smile on his lips, “thanks for asking. He’s still coughing if he gets too hot but, otherwise, he’s back to himself.”

“I’m glad,” Stevie nodded.

After that, the pair lapsed into a companionable silence. It wasn’t awkward, not like Stevie imagined it would be, and that only lended itself to her theory that there was something about Calum that was comfortable. Something about him set her at ease, it made her happy. She wasn’t sure why she felt so carefree in his presence but it worried her slightly. She wasn’t the type to relinquish her anxieties without a fight. It was a problem she’d faced her entire life and she knew that.

However, she also felt wary about anything that made her too happy. Things had never quite worked out for her. No matter how well they started, no matter how promising they seemed, somewhere along the way everything ended up taking a nosedive. She wanted to believe that Calum would be different, that if she let him in and opened her heart to him, he wouldn’t destroy her. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to believe anything other than what she’d experienced throughout her life.

Happiness was not hers to attain.

She felt the drop in her mood as she reminded herself that nothing good ever stayed in her life. It wasn’t Calum’s fault, though. She had just always been unlucky. So, instead of letting him know that she believed herself to be cursed, she placed her best fake smile on her lips and carried on as if nothing had changed.

They sat and drank their lattes, talking about music and art that they loved, until the cafe closed. Stevie contributed enough to the conversation to say that she spoke but she felt herself waning as the night went on. She excused it as exhaustion, she had been working overtime to complete a draft for her editor, and Calum - who didn’t have any reason not to believe her - bought it. As they stepped out of the shop and into the cool night once more, he smiled at her.

“Today started off as a bad day,” he admitted as he shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at her. “But it ended up being alright.”

Stevie smiled at this, genuinely pleased that she could help turn Calum’s day around. He was sweet. He had a good heart and a kind smile. He seemed like the kind of person that would do whatever he could to make others feel at ease and she wanted the best for him. “I’m glad,” she said and she was. She was happy that he was happy, it was just a bonus that she was involved.

Calum smiled sheepishly at her as he said, “I would love to offer to take you on that walk through Central Park but I should get home. The babysitter has to head out soon. Maybe we can hang out again sometime?” When Stevie made a face, one that she didn’t mean to make, Calum grimaced. “It doesn’t have to be a date,” he amended. “No labels just two people, occupying the same space.”

Stevie wasn’t keen on getting his hopes up - though she desperately wished she could, she didn’t see herself having a happy ending with him or anyone else, for that matter. But she realized that spending time with him couldn’t be all that bad. If anything, it would get Noah off of her back about having friends outside of work. So, after a moment’s hesitation, Stevie nodded.

“Sure,” she agreed, “that sounds noncommittal and like something I can handle.”

Calum smiled at this, pleased that she was willing to see him again, and tugged his phone from his pocket. “Could I get your number? I’ll text you and maybe I can help with something on the bucket list,” he offered as he watched her type her number into his phone.

“Roller derby is planned for next week, if you want to join,” Stevie offered with a grin as she watched him pocket the device. When Calum’s eyes widened, she laughed. “It’s a girl’s only league,” she assured him, calming his nerves. “But maybe we can find something else to do.”

“Yeah,” Calum nodded. “We’ll find something else. Be careful on your way home.”

“I will,” she nodded, a small smile on her lips as she watched him hesitate to walk in the opposite direction of her. “I’ll see you later, Calum.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, grateful that this time, he knew that there would be a later. “See you later, Stevie.”

Although Stevie was hesitant to open her heart and Calum wasn’t sure what he was doing other than trying his best to move on from his past, they were both hopeful. The universe had worked in their favor - with a little help from Ashton Irwin - and they only hoped that it would continue to favor them both.

_____________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I’m so incredibly tired. Sorry for going MIA. Sorry for not answering any asks or messages. I’m honestly just not in the mood to socialize. I’m exhausted and my brain is fried, tbh. I’m working on my thesis (like, actually finishing it up!! So, if I disappear for the rest of the week, that’s why. It’s going to clock in at a whopping 75 pages. Pray for me) and my grandfather died on Saturday. I’m fine, I only met him a few times, but my mom is upset and I live right down the road from where they’re holding the funeral (funny that I’ve only met him a few times when I lived less than five minutes from him for two years, I know) so she’s staying with me and that is. Stressful. But it’s okay. If I can survive the next three weeks, I’ll be fine. Anyway, thoughts on Stevie and Cal?? I love them. I hope you do, too.

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added!): @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijutreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle , @p0laroidpictures , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss , @blueviiolence , @loveroflrh , @empathycth , @luckyduckydoo , @tobefalling , @bandsandbooksaremykink , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985 , @wokeupinaustralia , @lucidlrh , @canterburyfiction , @cal-is-not-on-branding , @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o , @jaacknaano , @findingliam-o , @old-zeppelin-shirt , @idk-who-i-am-anymore1 , @sammyrenae68 , @flowerthug , @calumsphile , @caitdaniels, @drummerboy794 , @writingfortoomanyfandoms , @x-lover-of-mine-x , @miliefayy , @sunaaii , @canterburyfiction , @sebrox40 , @nati-nn , @opheliaaurora23 , @bitterbethany

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joan-frias · 5 years ago

Text

The Cake: A VegBul Fanfiction

This one-shot is based on a short story I created last night. I felt like this will be a good plot for Vegeta and Bulma, so I modified it for this fanfiction. This is the first time I'm doing a VegBul fanfic, so I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball or any of its characters.

Bulma looked at the blueprint in front her with frustration. This has been the twelfth time she has revised that mechanical plan she has been formulating, and she still could not get it right. Or maybe, thirteenth? She became more frustrated with that thought that she once again set the plan aside on the pile she has created on the floor beside her worktable. Maybe she needs to start over again.

It has been two weeks since the Tournament of Power, and things have started to come back to normal. Well, not really the 'normal' she has learned to live with ever since she married the prince of all Saiyans. Surprisingly, Vegeta hasn't gone training again since that tournament. She wants to think that it's because he spent all his energy on that tournament he can't train for the next weeks or months. For Bulma it was a blessing. At least he will have some time with his family and not just be alone on the gravity room or stay on Beerus' planet for months.

Right now, Vegeta is with their newborn Bulla. Or at least, that's what Bulma thinks. She gave birth to the half-Saiyan girl just before the tournament. It was Vegeta's ticket to join the tournament, because God knows what she might have done to him if he left her while she's about to give birth to his child. He might probably consider sleeping over Goku's house, for she won't let him go home until she feels like forgiving him for what he did. But Whis made it easier and faster for her to deliver the child, freeing Vegeta of his husband duties and making him join the most important tournament the multiverse has ever had.

After that tournament, Vegeta has become a dutiful father to Bulla, and also to Trunks. He was always the one to babysit Bulla, making Bulma do whatever she needs and wants to do, which was not her plan since she had thought of taking a maternity leave after giving birth to focus on her daughter. She never thought Vegeta would have the time to nurse their newborn, so she cancelled everything that she was planning to do for the next two months. But fate has other plans, and she was given the free time that she had been wanting to have since God knows when.

And since she has a lot of free time and not any project on cue, she decided to do that project that she knows she was meant to do. Or rather, she was supposed to based on the event that have transpired in the past years. If only things didn't happen the way they did, then she won't have to produce it from scratch like what she is doing right now. But, thinking about it, maybe it was better that way so that she could recreate that 'thing' from scratch, making her the real inventor and not just some future self she has.

She was once again trying to recreate another blueprint when someone entered her laboratory. She looked up and saw her husband approach her. He is wearing his usual house clothes, which is a blue shirt and khaki pants. It's quite refreshing seeing him in another clothing aside from his training gear.

"Woman, I need you to come with me to the kitchen."

Bulma frowned. "What for?"

Vegeta didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed her hand and made her follow him to the kitchen. He led her to the island counter, then made her sit on one of the highchairs. He then went to the other side of the counter.

"What is this, Vegeta? I have a lot of things to do."

She glared at him, and after being terrified for a while he turned around and went to the refrigerator. He took out a round chocolate cake, putting it down on the island counter.

Bulma stared at the cake, not quite comprehending what the sweet confection is for. She looked back at Vegeta giving him a questioning look. The guy looked away as he crossed his arms on his chest.

"I heard you say you crave some chocolate cake."

"You baked a cake for me?" Bulma asked, disbelieving her own assumption.

Vegeta blushed but didn't answer. Bulma's face lit up with a smile.

"I didn't know you could be this romantic."

"Just eat the damn cake!"

Bulma giggled as she watched Vegeta get some saucers, fork and a knife to slice the cake.

"Did you really bake this yourself?"

Vegeta stopped slicing the cake. He looked at Bulma and glared at her. She just giggled, making him proceed in dividing the cake. He served a slice to her.

"Your mother helped me," he suddenly said. "He told me what to do, but I did everything."

"Oh! Then this should be good."

Bulma took a piece of the cake and he watched her eat it. He is obviously anxious to know what she thinks.

"It's good," Bulma said. "I'm just not sure if it's really good, or I just love you that's why I think it's good."

Vegeta blushed at what she said. He grumbled then looked away. Bulma giggled at her husband's demeanor.

"Why don't you try it?"

Bulma walked around the island counter to Vegeta. He wasn't able to stop her as she feeds him a small piece of the cake.

"What do you think?" Bulma asked.

"As always, a proof that everything I do affirms excellence."

Bulma giggled at his remark. Her joyous laugh makes him smile.

"I love you," she said before she leans closer and kiss him at the mouth.

Vegeta was shocked at the sudden and brief manifestation of his wife's affection. Bulma just giggled as she ate another piece of the cake.

"I will never get use of your vulgarity," Vegeta commented.

"Oh, you like it as much, don't you?"

Instead of answering, Vegeta pulled her into him and kissed her on the mouth. It was a deep, passionate kiss that made Bulma breathless she almost dropped the fork she was holding.

"Yeah, that cake sure is delicious," Vegeta said after the kiss.

Bulma smiled as she tried to compose herself after that torrid kiss her husband just gave her. Vegeta took the fork she was holding, eating a piece of the cake, then feeding her some after.

"So what are you trying to build this time?" he asked her.

"Time machine."

Vegeta stopped and gazed at her. Bulma just shrugged, taking the fork from him once again and feeding herself some cake.

"Did you already forget about Lord Beerus and Whis' warning against the time machine?"

"Yeah, but, I feel like it's something that I should do. I know about the rules of time travel and all that stuff, but what if whatever happened to Future Trunks' dimension also happen here in our timeline? It might not be the Androids or a mad god, but something as deadly or catastrophic as that? And the only way to save another future is to go back in time and warn them? I don't know… I just can't help but feel like I should do something because I could."

Seeing the horror that Goku Black has caused Future Trunks' timeline herself, Bulma can't help but feel the terror of its outcome. She would not want another dimension's existence to be erased. Wasn't it the reason why the Universe 7 did everything they can to win the Tournament of Power? To prevent their universe to be erased, and eventually restoring all the universes that was erased.

She sadly continued eating the cake on the saucer, finishing it up to the last bit. Surprisingly, another slice landed on her empty saucer, making her look back to her husband.

"Alright… You can make the time machine, but I hope you follow the rules of time travel obediently. I don't want Beerus to erase any one of my family, or their future for that matter."

Bulma smiled, then leapt towards Vegeta as she clung onto his neck. The Saiyan prince almost fell down, holding her firmly to support both of them preventing themselves from falling.

"What in the world were you thinking?!"

Bulma giggled. "You really loved me that much, huh?"

Vegeta scowled. "I won't spend the entire morning trying to figure out how I can make the cake fudgy yet light if I don't."

"I figured," Bulma said as she hugged him completely.

Vegeta can do nothing but return the embrace. He closed his eyes and succumbed to the warmth that his beloved wife brings him, making him feel peace, joy, and love.

They are on that position when Trunks barged into the kitchen.

"Hey Dad!"

Vegeta's eyes shot wide open as he blushed. He almost pushed Bulma away if she hadn't moved away from his embrace.

"Oh, hey Trunks!" the blue-haired woman said.

"Uh… Mom…" The half-Saiyan kid was quite confused as to how he should act after seeing his parents' display of affection. His face is a little bit red.

"What is it?" Vegeta grumbled.

"Uh… There is a Bulla situation in the nursery. I think you need to change her nappies."

"Alright! I'm on it!"

Vegeta grumpily walked out of the room and proceeded to the nursery. Bulma just smiled as her eyes followed her husband. Trunks is still looking kind of confused as to what he just intercepted.

"Trunks, do you want to try this cake your father baked for me?"

"Uh… is it good?" The young Saiyan went to the island counter and sat on one of the highchairs.

"It is. Try it."

Bulma gives him a slice on a clean saucer. Trunks tasted the cake and liked how it taste.

"I can't believe Dad was able to pull it off."

"So he asked you to look after Bulla while he baked the cake?"

"Yeah," Trunks answered. "He said he'll train with me after if I took good care of her."

Bulma felt glad at what her son said. Vegeta sure is doing all sort of fatherly stuff with the kids. If training is considered a fatherly action, especially with Saiyan parents.

"Did he tell you why he's baking the cake?"

"He said he's tired of hearing your agonizing ranting, so she wants to make you feel better by making the cake you're craving."

Bulma just smiled at what Trunks said.

"I don't understand why he has to make it himself. Can't he just buy one from the store?"

"Honey, that's what makes it more special," Bulma said as she pats her son's head. "When you grow up, you'll understand."

"Guess it's one of those complicated adult things."

Bulma smiled. "Do you want to drink milk with it?"

"Mom, milk is for kids. I prefer juice than milk, the one that Mr. Monaka delivered the other day."

Bulma giggled at her little child's cockiness. Surely, that didn't come from her side of the family. Nevertheless, she took two cans of the juice she ordered from space.

"So, you were taking care of Bulla while your father is baking?"

"Yeah," Trunks answered.

"How was it?"

"Bulla is a handful," Trunks said. "She always wants me to play with her and make funny faces. Are all babies like that?"

"Well, you were also like that when you were a baby," Bulma said. "I remember, I took you at the rendezvous of Goku and the others during that time they first fought with the androids. You actually peed on Yajirobi's scarf that time."

Trunks grimaced with disgust. "I did that?"

Bulma laughed. "You did!"

She continued telling him the story as they both enjoyed the cake that Vegeta baked for her.

#Dragon Ball Z #dragon ball #dragon ball super #dragonball #db #dbz #dbs #Bulma #vegeta #vegbul #trunks #bulla #bulla briefs #capsule corp #goku #Son Goku #vegebul

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lefaystrent · 5 years ago

Note

Yes hi. Do you have anything on Analogince? Hcs, fics, art? I just got dragged into that hell and I plan to stay there forever

I don’t think I’ve ever writtenanything for them, but here’s some headcanons.

Also this got loooong and I still didn’twrite out all my thoughts, but it’s 1 in the morning so I’m going to cut it hereand hopefully add more later. ^_^

Roman is the one who brings themtogether as friends at first.

If it was up to Virgil and Logan,they’d stay inside all day and not socialize with the rest of the world.

So much to do, so many possible confrontationsto avoid, better to avoid the trouble.

But Roman has a way of moving people.

He throws their schedules upside downand gets them to come out of their shells in ways they didn’t know possible.

And somehow they don’t hate it.

Roman is bright, idealistic, andpassionate. Sensitive as he is strong.

He’s like a puppy ready to take onthe world.

Logan and Virgil silently agreethat they must protect the puppy. He’s cute but kinda dumb.

Logan and Virgil aren’t quite sure whyRoman’s so insistent on being around them. They think he’ll get boredeventually.

Roman never gets bored. He actually thinksthey’re really cool and he just wants to impress them.

Logan and Roman share a passion forwriting. They can sit and talk for hours about ideas and phrases and metaphors.

Roman writes his own stories. It’s a bigdeal for him to share his writing and open himself to criticism.

Roman shares his work with them.

Logan becomes the editor he never knew heneeded.

Logan has a way of correcting thelogistics of Roman’s writing without tearing him down.

Virgil doesn’t contribute much to thoseconversations, but he likes listening to them a lot.

Whenever Roman asks Virgil for storyideas, Virgil’s go to is, “Make a meteor crash down,” or something of the sort.

Virgil mostly bonds with Roman over music.

They have a lot of similar tastes andfavorite bands.

Roman’s a big musical fan, but Virgil’snever really listened to any musicals.

Roman gets Virgil into musicals. Virgildoesn’t tell him he’s succeeded at first.

Roman catches Virgil humming, “Michael inthe Bathroom,” one day and squeals loudly in glee.

“Oh my god, Be More Chill? When didthis happen? We have so much to talk about!!!”

Logan doesn’t care for most of the musicaltalk.

UNTIL HAMILTON IS DISCOVERED.

“So do you like it?” Roman asks, on theedge of his seat as Logan listens to some of the songs.

Logan fucking loves it.

He goes into full history rants and howwell blended the story is for a modern medium and THE LYRICS!!

It’s one of the first times the othersrealize just how passionate of a person Logan can be.

When he’s interested in something, he’sinvested with his entire soul.

In the beginning Logan held off fromshowing this side of himself, not wanting to scare off the other two.

But more and more he’ll get this excitedgleam in his eyes and just go off about a subject.

He makes even the most mundane topicssound new and worthwhile.

A lot of times he’ll cut himself off.

“Oh, my apologies. I’m probably boringyou.”

Roman and Virgil quickly shake theirheads.

“No! Please continue! You’re hot—I mean,you’re not boring us!”

Virgil especially likes listening to Logantalk.

He’s never heard a more calming tone.There’s just something incredibly safe about his voice.

Or maybe that’s just Logan in general,smart and dependable as he is.

Regardless, Virgil will close his eyessometimes while listening to Logan.

He’ll call Logan when he’s feelinganxious.

“Talk about anything,” Virgil willrequest.

After a pause, Logan will respond with, “Haveyou heard about *insert random subject here*.”

Sometimes Virgil relaxes so much that hefalls asleep listening to him.

Speaking of voices, Virgil loves Roman’svoice too.

His usual voice is okay, a bit too loudmaybe but rich and deep.

But then one day Virgil hears him sing.

Roman goes into song, and Virgil immediatelystops whatever he’s doing and stares.

Roman eventually notices the slightlystartled stare. He stops with a smirk. “Impressed, Hot Topic?”

And Virgil hasn’t regained quite enoughsense to respond with the usual banter. Instead, he just nods in wonder,looking at Roman in a newfound light.

The honest response does things to Roman.

It’s only fair. That voice does plenty toVirgil.

Virgil’s always been a sucker for prettyvoices.

But a cute guy with a voice like an angel?

Virgil is very gay and very doomed.

Virgil is the first to fall for the othersin a romantic sense.

He keeps it to himself of course. Ofcourse he couldn’t be normal and just crush on one of them. Fate was cruel anddemanded it be both of them.

And of course neither of them wouldreciprocate. Better to just repress that shit and move on like nothinghappened.

Roman was always kinda low-key into theothers, but for all that he presents himself as the romantic, he’s incredibly apprehensivewhen it comes to romance for himself.

He’s got a lot of deep-rooted insecuritiesburied in there. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to dig all that up.

So he does his best to distance hisconscious mind from going in that direction, even while his heartsubconsciously falls slowly over time.

Logan simply never pictured himself in anykind of romantic context.

He just never thought about it is all,never felt a particular want for it.

But then stuff starts happening betweenhim and the other two.

One time Virgil’s close to having a panicattack, and Logan grounds him by taking his hand.

“I want you to squeeze my hand Virgil. Don’tworry, you will not hurt me.”

And it’s enough contact to keep Virgilconnected yet small enough not to overwhelm him.

It helps immensely.

Logan sees this and starts using thismethod frequently. Not just when Virgil’s super anxious.

They’re in a somewhat crowded store andVirgil fidgets slightly? Logan holds his hand.

They’re sitting together on the couch andVirgil’s stressed trying to formulate a business email? Logan holds his hand.

Virgil is confused and gay.

Virgil does not bring attention to thehand holding, only panics internally because WHY IS LOGAN SUDDENLY HOLDING HISHAND ALL THE TIME?

Virgil doesn’t let go of his hand eitherthough.

And then with Roman, Roman is veryphysically affectionate.

Roman will often come up from behind anddrape himself over Logan.

“Speeeeecs, I’m hungry. Feed me.”

Logan thought he was annoyed by the breachin personal space at first.

But more and more Logan starts realizingthat he’s more annoyed when Roman doesn’t breach his personal space.

Roman hasn’t hugged him or thrown an armcasually over his shoulder in a while?

Logan will look at Roman more, eyessquinted, trying to figure him out and then himself out and wondering why he’sso bothered.

Logan eventually concludes that he likesbeing physically close with Roman.

When Roman takes too long to initiateaffection, Logan does it for him.

Logan will pointedly sit down right besideRoman and lean against him.

“Watchya doing, Microsoft Nerd?” Roman asks,blinking at the not-at-all subtle approach Logan’s taking.

Logan doesn’t look at him, choosing toopen a book. “I’m getting comfortable to read, isn’t it obvious?”

For some reason Roman gets a little shywhen the others initiate affection.

Roman has long since been used to havingto be the one to initiate things.

It’s kinda…really nice, not to have to askfor things.

The three of them start becoming very comfortablewith physical affection.

Roman will often lay his head in Virgil’slap, and Virgil will scratch at his hair while scrolling on his phone.

Roman melts under the touch.

It’s one of the few times he’s evercompletely silent. He’s always burning with the urge to move, to create!

In these moments, he can happily soak inthe peace.

Logan feels warm and content when he seesthe two of them like that.

Considering that in addition to all ofthese other signs, Logan has an epiphany moment.

He is attracted to the other tworomantically.

It’s a fairly shocking realization forsomeone who’s never experienced such a thing before.

Logan takes it in stride though.

He starts listing out the pros of them allbeing together.

The three of them work better togetherthan alone, he concludes.

With that in mind, Logan approaches theother two and asks them out.

#sanders sides #roman #roman sanders #logan #logan sanders #virgil #virgil sanders #analogince #romantic analogince #Anonymous

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sodalitefully · 5 years ago

Text

Rose Petals & Petty Rivalries [GNR AU, Slaxl] 🌹🌹

The Hollywood Rose is a florist, run by Axl Rose and Izzy Stradlin (in lieu of the actual owner, who never seems to make an appearance), with Duff McKagan behind the wheel of the delivery truck. Axl likes working there; he likes the flowers, he likes the quiet, and he likes how things don’t ever change: business is slow but steady, customers are as predictable as ever… and the tattoo parlor next door is still a pain in his fucking ass. Don’t even get him fucking started about how it scares off the Rose’s customers by attracting seedy thugs, or how the owner is a fucking creep that Axl may or may not have history with.

Seriously, don’t: Izzy might actually gouge his eyes out with plant clippers if he has to hear Axl’s rant one more goddamn time.

Tracii Guns opened up the L.A. Guns tattoo parlor a few years ago, and he doesn’t plan on moving anytime soon, no matter how much animosity he gets from the flowerboy next door. Business is going well for once; so well, in fact, that Tracii has decided it’s time to hire a second artist.

There’s just one problem with that: There’s only one tattoo artist in LA who is both up to Tracii’s standards and looking for a place to set up shop, and that person is Saul Hudson, better known as Slash, a talented, hotshot artist who also happens to have a rivalry with Tracii dating all the way back to their school days when they first upgraded from stick-and-pokes to cheap tattoo kits.

Tracii left his mark on more of LA’s reckless youth than Slash did in their teen years, but just barely and only because Slash was often distracted by anything from BMX to zookeeping. He may have gotten a slower start to his career, but Slash’s talent as an artist is now making him a hot commodity in the tattooing community – If Tracii doesn’t grab him now, someone else will hire him soon enough, and Tracii can’t risk that kind of competition.

So Tracii reaches out and Slash accepts the job offer, but that doesn’t mean their little rivalry has been resolved. Tracii tells Slash that there’s not enough space in the tiny shop for both of their work stations on street level, so he assigns Slash the basement. Slash actually really likes the space, once he gets it all cleared out and set up the way he likes (he calls it “the snakepit” in his head), but he’s not about to let Tracii get first pick of every customer who walks in the door. Whenever he’s not with a client, Slash is hovering around upstairs, putting his art up on the walls, greeting potential customers from behind the counter, and generally doing everything he can to poach Tracii’s clients. Tracii does not appreciate his efforts, but when he’s in the middle of an appointment there’s nothing he can do to stop him.

So now Tracii has to deal with competition from his own employee (though by no means is their feud one-sided…) on top of his pissy neighbor who somehow manages to give Tracii an impressive amount of attitude while also blatantly ignoring him. Of-fucking-couse things only get worse when the two meet.

Duff is new in town, fresh from Seattle, Washington, and working two jobs to pay for his shitty bug-infested studio apartment: by day, he drives the Hollywood Rose delivery van, and by night he waits tables at a steakhouse across town. So he’s not entirely caught up on the details of Axl and Tracii’s bad blood, and comes into work one morning eager to show off his brand new tattoo.

He got it from an artist that his buddy Steven recommended. “It’s just the place next door, Axl, have you gotten any of your tattoos done there?” An innocent question, perfectly reasonable, and yet –

“…Oh. You went there?” Poor Duff did nothing to deserve the look of sour disdain that Axl is serving.

"Uh. Yeah, I got it done in the basement, seemed like a pretty neat place. Why, what’s up?"

“Wait – in the basement?"

"Yeah, Ax, Tracii’s got a new hire,” Izzy threw in, still admiring Duff’s new ink – it was well done, he had to admit. "I’m surprised you have’t seen him around, he’s pretty, uh, distinctive. Big fluffy hair, likes jewelry and leather?"

“Izzy, that describes about half of Guns’ clientele."

“Nah, you’ll know him when you see him, trust me.” Duff bobbed his head in agreement.

“Hm. What’s his name?”

“Slash. He’s a nice guy, really talented –” Duff adds, but Axl has stopped listening, and started formulating a plan.

For the past two years, give or take, since L.A. Guns opened its doors, Axl has been making a point of going to any and all of Tracii’s competitors to get his ink done, without so mach as sparing a glance at the parlor next door (not counting the occasional glowering from behind slanted blinds, or fantasizing about ramming his car into Tracii’s trash bins in the shared parking lot). But that day, Axl marches right into L.A. Guns, meets Tracii dead in the eye and demands an appointment as soon as possible – with Slash.

Tracii gapes at him for a second. The shock of seeing Axl in his shop fades quickly, replaced by an expression that broadcasts Are You Fucking Kidding Me loudly enough to be picked up by any radio antenna in a 30-mile range.

“You can’t be serious Axl. Why don’t you go back to your fucking daffodils and leave me the fuck alone, hm?"

Axl arches a brow and opens his mouth to retort, but he’s cut off by a tangle of curly hair and bare limbs that swoops in, shoves Tracii back, and tips forward over the countertop until his frizzy bangs are inches from Axl’s face, all in one fluid rush that Axl can barely follow.

“He doesn’t want to talk to you, Guns, so why don’t you scurry off and give us a minute to take care of business?” He doesn’t say it like a question, and he smirks when Tracii throws up his hands with a huff and stalks off to his station at the back of the room. Once he and Axl are granted the illusion of privacy, the smirk transforms into a dazzling grin, propped up on his fist as he – Slash, obviously (Axl realizes what Izzy meant when he described the man as “distinctive”) – leans forward on the tall counter, offering Axl his best “sorry about my crazy boss now how can I help you?” look.

“So, you’re interested in a consultation appointment?"

Axl belatedly realizes that he’s blushing. “Fluffy hair, likes jewelry and leather” was obviously an inadequate description; Izzy had failed to prepare Axl for Slash’s warm brown eyes, for the way the hoops in his ears peek out from his mass of soft-looking curls or the way his sleeveless shirt shows off the ink on his tanned arms... And that’s not to mention his beautifully infectious smile.

“Yeah,” Axl responds, his voice pitching up a bit against his will. “Maybe around this time tomorrow, if you’re available?"

Slash flips open a day planner and hovers his pen over tomorrow’s date. “How does tomorrow evening at 5:15 sound?"

“That would be great."

“And your name?"

“Axl Rose."

Slash pauses and glances down at Axl’s work clothes, lingering on the pin over his pocket with his first name and the shop logo. He looks back up at Axl with a bemused expression. “Axl Rose? Who are you, the mascot?"

“Hey!"

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Slash giggles then manages to compose himself. “Axl Rose at 5:15,” he pens the appointment in slanted script. “I didn’t mean to make fun… Did you do the arrangements in the front windows? They’re really beautiful."

“…Thank you.” As a tattooed florist with anger issues, Axl is in no position to stereotype, but he still wasn’t expecting to hear that from Slash. If he wasn’t blushing before, he certainly is now.

Tracii scoffs loudly behind Slash, and Axl’s pink flush is abruptly replaced by an angry, embarrassed red. He hunches his shoulders and mutters a thank you when Slash slides him business card with the appointment time scribbled on the back, then heads for the door as confidently as he can manage. This whole plan to piss Tracii off is going to backfire if he keeps getting flustered by the cute, overly-friendly new artist.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Slash calls after him cheerfully.

Slash watches him walk out the door and back towards the Rose, then finally turns around to meet Tracii’s incredulous scowl.

"You’re not really going to do a piece for him, are you?"

"Uh, yeah, why wouldn’t I?"

"’Cause he’s a Grade-A fucking asshole who’s had it out for me and my shop ever since I moved in."

Slash laughs dismissively. "You’re full of shit, Tracii, he seems like a real sweetheart to me."

Tracii snorts. "Axl Rose, a fucking sweetheart?”

“You jealous, Guns?”

“Hardly,” Tracii says with a scowl. “He’s going to hate the tattoo and then use it as an excuse to give me even more shit than he already does. It’ll be unbearable around here with him bitching all the time.”

“You mean like how you’re bitching right now? You don’t know shit,” Slash declares, “because Axl is going to love his new ink and you’re not going to hear a thing from him except when he’s beating down our door to beg me for more.”

I’m afraid my ideas are getting predictable, but I couldn’t fucking resist. Tagging @fan-with-issues for chatting w me about this au, and @insipidrhyme just because.

Shoutout to Tracii Guns for once again stepping in when I want to give a side character a hard time. You’re a good sport, Trace.

#yikes it's been a month since i last posted #sodafics #slaxl #slash #saul hudson #axl rose #gnr #guns n roses #hollywood rose #tracii guns #la guns #l.a. guns #florist x tattoo artist au #and you thought I couldn't get more cliche #i've been staring at this for too long so i guess it's time to post

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bubbyleh · 5 years ago

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it was arrogance to think you knew how to handle this - chapter 2

yeah, sorry. not enough time has passed between the posting of the last chapter for me to provide any new insight! again, scroll down my blog for the ao3 link if interested.

chapter 2: green to blue

Gordon immediately rushes to Josh's room, who he wakes when he scoops him out of bed. At first he's groggy and confused, but Joshua is comforted by his father's presence and quickly falls back asleep. Gordon holds his son, the most precious thing in his life, as he sits on his couch. He holds the kitchen knife tightly, away from Joshua.

He's not sure why nothing is happening. Gordon is half an hour deep into planning a move in his head when he realizes this. The Fae who was outside seems to have just done... nothing? Gordon's not entirely willing to believe they've just given up.

The sun begins to rise. The clock begins to creep closer to a time Gordon would usually wake up. He convinces himself, maybe, that the random Fae was just a one-off encounter. Gently, Gordon sets Joshua down on the couch, making sure he's still covered by the blanket from his room. He doesn't really want to leave Joshua's side, but at least he can still see him from the kitchen.

Joshua will probably be up soon, and Gordon wants to have breakfast ready by then. Having something to eat will occupy Josh for at least a little bit, which means any chaos he causes today will be delayed for at least a little bit.

As quietly as he can, Gordon starts sorting through his kitchen. He leaves the knife on the counter, within reach should the need arise. Normally he wouldn't make pancakes without a special occasion, but after the stress of last night, let alone the stress of the past month, he thinks he deserves some goddamn pancakes.

It's extremely easy to disappear into a task. Making breakfast while keeping an eye on Joshua is enough that Gordon doesn't begin asking himself questions, like why Fae would even be coming around and asking for Joshua now. He pushes thoughts like those aside, because he's a rational adult who's fully capable of compartmentalizing! He can have a panic attack later, when they've safely skipped town!

Once Josh wakes up, he's quick to his father's side, repeating "Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes!" Josh jumps as he speaks, grabbing onto the edge of Gordon's shirt.

Well, Gordon thinks, Fae or not, kids love pancakes. He picks Josh up, holding him with one arm as he flips a pancake. "Whoah, no good morning?" he teases.

Josh grumbles out a, "Good morning" before attempting to climb over his father towards the stack of finished pancakes.

"Slow down there, kid," he says, pushing Joshua's insistent hand away from the plate. "What makes you think you're getting any?"

The absolute look of betrayal that Josh's face turns into is absolutely hilarious, so much so that Gordon has to stop himself from completely bursting into laughter. "But I want them!" Josh insists.

"Yeah, well, maybe I made them all for myself. Didn't think of that now, did you?"

Joshua furrows his brow and attempts to wiggle out of Gordon's grasp towards the pancakes. The safety hazard that is Josh messing around near a heated iron pan is not lost on Gordon, who cries out, "Josh, hey!" The words scare Josh enough that he freezes, allowing Gordon the chance to get Josh back on the floor, away from the stove top.

"Joshua," he says, in a typical dad warning tone. "What's the rule when Daddy's cooking?"

"Be careful around fire and pans," Josh mumbles, looking towards the floor. Gordon sighs, relieved both for Josh's safety and the fact he knew the rule. Gordon kneels in front of his son.

"I know it was an accident, okay?" he assures him, placing his hands on Josh's shoulders. "I just got real scared, there. That pan's hot enough that it'll hurt me if I touch it, you could have gotten seriously hurt." Which is... definitely something Gordon doesn't want to think about the implications of. He doesn't know if iron and fire burning stacks for a Fae, but he'd rather not find out.

Josh reaches forward and hugs Gordon, and for a moment, that anxiety is gone. Gordon just hugs his son back. He takes a deep breath, internalizes it for a moment, and then gets back to dad business. He pulls back.

"Why don't you go sit at the table, and I'll get some pancakes ready for you?" Gordon suggests. Josh's eyes immediately light up, and he nods happily. Gordon smiles as Josh climbs into his usual chair at the table.

Hopefully, that filled today's Joshua Incident quota.

- - - -

For most of the morning, it rains, which Gordon is thankful for as it means he doesn't need to provide to actual reason he wants to keep Josh inside. However, it doesn't stop Gordon's eyes from straying towards the window, keeping an eye out for any movement. Even as Josh rambles as he scribbles vaguely humanoid shapes, Gordon can't find himself completely able to focus.

Because, horrifyingly, someone came to his front door with the purpose of taking his child. All Gordon can think about is potential encounters with this Fae increasing in severity. What the fuck do they even want Joshua for? It seems like a reversal from the old warnings he would hear growing up, that Fae would steal a human child and replace it with one of their own. Oh, if only Gordon could laugh at that now. Instead, he's clenching his teeth so hard that not even a single "hah" could pass through.

"Josh," Gordon says suddenly, interrupting the four-year-old mid-rant about princesses. Joshua looks up at his father, orange crayon stilled.

Despite Joshua's more chaotic tendencies, Gordon's heart swells when he looks at him. He thinks about their house, the place he's raised Josh in for the past four years. It's where he brought his son home for the first time, where Josh took his first steps, said his first words. The place their little family of two lives.

Which is why Gordon takes a deep breath before he says, "What do you think about moving?"

"Moving?" Josh parrots, his head tilting to the side slightly.

"Yeah, moving," Gordon keeps his voice steady. "Like to a new house. Somewhere else."

Josh turns back to his paper and continues drawing. "Um, all our stuff is here," he remarks.

"We'd take that with us, buddy," Gordon chuckles.

Joshua's eyes light up. "Let's take the house with us!"

Gordon hears the mail slot on the front door jostle, like someone is having trouble getting a letter through. Weird, they don't usually get mail. He decides to check on it later.

He shakes his head. "We can't take the house."

Joshua's bright smile turns to a frown. "But I like the house." He grips his crayon a little harder.

"The whole point of moving is that we get a new house," Gordon explains, but Josh still doesn't look too happy.

"But I wanna stay in this house! I wanna take it with!" Joshua begins shouting, and dear god, Gordon does not need to deal with this now. He's halfway through formulating a response when...

"Bro, just take the house with you."

Both Freemen snap their heads towards the hallway, where the strange voice came from. Gordon's heart nearly stops, as he recognizes the Fae from last night (or, more accurately, earlier in the morning). Except, he isn't exactly person-sized anymore. No, the Fae is closer to the size of Gordon's hand this time around, but that does not stop the anger that begins to rise in him.

"I don't understand the problem," the now small Fae says, absentmindedly scratching the stubble on their face. "S'not like you can't just take the house somewhere else."

Gordon shouts, "You again!?" at the same time as Joshua's, "Little guy!" He's almost too slow to stop Josh from running towards the Fae, grabbing him by the back of the shirt and holding him with one arm. It's easier, actually, to grab the Fae, who's four inches tall and doesn't make any effort to flee.

"What the fuck is your problem!?" Gordon yells into the tiny Fae's face. He ignores Joshua's scandalized gasp.

The Fae just looks annoyed and crosses their arms. "Man, I told you this, like, six hours ago. You should've remembered better." They point down at Joshua. "Just, um, give us the baby thing and we're all gonna leave you alone."

"I'm not going to give you my son!"

The Fae hums for a moment. "What if I like, marry you. Then it's also my son and I can take it."

"Wh- no!" Gordon sputters, "First of all, don't call my kid an it! Second-"

Gordon's cut off when the Fae begins to sing, small blue orbs flying into Gordon's face. Because, suddenly, a whole chunk of Gordon's anxiety and rage is gone, and he can't really remember why he was so mad in the first place. Mostly he feels... confused? He can faintly hear Josh saying, "That's pretty!"

Gordon gently lets Josh down on the ground, but he still keeps a grip on the Fae in his hand. "What did you just do to me?" he asks, his voice a little too unsure.

"Calm down," is all the Fae says. "Just give me the kid?"

Very suddenly, Gordon's anger returns tenfold, because of course that's why he was so upset, how could he forget? He's about to give this little shit a piece of his mind, but then Joshua sings. A stream of green and blue orbs exit his mouth, just like the one the Fae just used on him.

"Oh shit," the Fae, for once, looks thrown off. They squirm a bit. "You didn't tell me little dude was a mimic, man."

Gordon, once again, feels entirely unprepared for what he just witnessed. After a long pause, all he manages to get out is, "I've never seen him do that before."

The Fae laughs, but to be honest, it sounds more like cackling. "No shit. He can only do that when I'm around, because he's copying me. Stupid." They sigh. "He'll be able to do it a lot more if you just let him come with me, man. It would be way more fun."

Gordon's gaze finally returns to the itty bitty Fae in his hand. Walking them back to the front door, Gordon chucks them as far as he can into the woods.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #gordos feetman #gordos freeman #benrey #joshua freeman #fae au #frenrey #eventually #it was arrogance to think #my writing

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

Text

Return

TITLE: Return CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Five AUTHOR: theterrifyingtermite ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that, at the end of Endgame, Loki comes back. Only one problem: this isn’t your Loki… RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Half-way there! (did I mention it was a slow(ish)-burn? it’s a slow(ish)-burn.)

Chapter Five:

It had been sometime in the early hours of the morning.

The last time she saw him.

She was curled up against him, their conversation having shifted to other things aside from the usual nothings that lovers whispered in the dark.

Earlier in their relationship, she would have never thought Loki, God of Mischief, current-upstart-King-of-Asgard would demand to snuggle.

At any moment, whenever it struck his fancy, no matter where they were or what they were doing.

Of course, knowing what she did now, she would never not let him hold her.

…not that she minded, ever, either.

Touch was precious to him.

One arm was locked around her waist; his other hand was weaving through her hair. It was in these dear moments that his guard was fully dropped. All pretense, even that done unconsciously from years and years of practice, was let go.

All she knew was peace and utter contentment.

Tucking her hand more securely around him, she allowed herself to drift away, sleep calling sweetly.

Instead, his whisper brought her awareness fully back to him.

She didn’t need to bring much along to Asgard, didn’t she know?

His fingers had stopped combing through her hair, nervously grasping at the locks instead.

Blinking, wondering if she heard him correctly, she had tipped her face up to see his, wondering what he meant.

He had stared resolutely away.

Only that…she didn’t need a lot. Only things from home she really wanted. But not everything.

A pause.

Her brow furrowed, sleepy confusion pulling them together. She pushed herself up on an elbow, trying to get him to actually look at him.

A deep breath.

Didn’t she know that he would take care of her? That she would want for nothing?

Oh.

Even though he had closed his eyes, as if preemptively hiding from her semi-regular “I’m not helpless, Loki!” rant, a smile lit up her face.

How could she ever doubt him?

Settling back down into his embrace, she sighed a happy confirmation that yes, she did know.

His hands tightened against her, and then they slept.

Safe.

___

It had been a difficult day.

She had dreamed of their last night in some form the past three evenings, and she was tired.

Every time it was off somehow, as if her subconscious was polluting the memory with the reality it knew came after.

Retracting his offer; taking her ring. Being taken before her eyes.

Choking to death.

The worst: coming back for her.

That, and not being able to sleep again afterwards, left her quite annoyed.

Never mind the fact that she was now six months pregnant.

Which, apparently, was only halfway through the regular term for a Frost Giant.

Which, apparently, was the time frame in which this baby seemed to be developing-

-or so Doctor Strange has postulated earlier that day.

The man in question was another note of irritation.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like him…but the needling comments he wove into every conversation were starting to chip away at her resolve.

And on days when Christine had a shift overlapping their appointment, which had only happened once before, he seemed to hold back less than usual.

She had to convince herself after every session that she needed their help; needed them to keep her and the baby safe, considering…

Her fingers fiddled with the watch on her wrist; the anchoring point for the variety of spells cast over her.

Well, there was another point. She had no magical partner to help her through it. She needed all the help she could get from the wizards, frustrating as it may be.

Also, it was raining. She had gotten wet on the way home, and that had been the final straw.

She was tired.

So tired, bedraggled, and annoyed that she didn’t hear the sounds he made in the other room.

Didn’t hear his steps approaching the door.

All she knew was that it was overwhelming, and if she wanted to cry, she would.

So, curled up on her bed, wrapped in a blanket, listening to the almost-spring shower, she cried.

And cried

And cried.

And then felt a hand on her shoulder.

And then screamed.

Flailing, she wrenched herself away from the intruder, scrambling to move, to turn, to do something to get where she could defend herself, and oh – the empty mug from last night, which she blindly grabbed and waved over her shoulder – dear heaven why was her stomach in the way? – and then she finally blinked away enough of the tears, rolled herself over, gasping, only to look up and see-

“Loki.”

He was staring down at her, one brow arched up; his mouth set in a highly unamused line.

His gaze shifted to the mug she held in front of herself defensively; at which moment he plucked it from her grasp and thumped it down onto the side table.

Her response was to stutter; to try and formulate some sort of response.

Then finally, “What are you doing here?!” was blurted out.

She was at a total loss.

As they stared at each other, his arms crossing over his chest, her scrubbing at her eyes to clear them, shifting feet was her first response.

Then a mumbled, “stupid Tesseract,” finally broke the awkwardness.

“Oh,” was all she knew to respond.

And then, her heart leaped. Resting against his chest, having slipped out when he leaned over her, was-

“My ring,” was her whisper, with a hand instinctively stretching out-

-only for his hand to fold over it, gripping tightly, and for him to take a step back, suddenly wary, with a low, painful, “My mother’s,” and then she realized it.

There was a sea of agony in his eyes – severe enough for her to drown in. He knew.

There was nothing to fix this. There hadn’t been before, and there wouldn’t be now.

Hand dropping, she folded back in on herself, shaking her head as logic caught up with her emotions. “Sorry! I know. I just…don’t go,” was the lame, pleading finish.

Securing a tissue to blow her nose, undignified and exhausted, she refused to meet his gaze.

This was the moment he would turn tail and leave, angry with her once again.

He wasn’t hers, and yet it still hurt.

Except.

Even as she braced herself for the dramatic exit, he stayed put. Obviously uncomfortable, even as he held his posture stiffly, Loki still stayed.

She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Until-

“I saw Thor.”

Her eyes widening; jaw slack, she froze.

“W-wha-“

“I ended up in that ‘New Asgard’ place,” he muttered something unintelligible under his breath, “For whatever reason, I can’t always seem to get it to go where I want.”

A frustrated pout twisted up his face.

An instinctive giggle brightened hers.

At his following flat stare, she alternated between horror that she had laughed at this inexplicable man, fear he would leave, and the relief she felt. That was a face she knew. That was something familiar.

Still, she needed to hold it together.

“I’m sorry,” was her firmly controlled response, as she pushed herself up to lean against the headboard. “I just – it’s been a long day. You can keep going, if you want to,” was the hasty addition, as she winced.

Her fingers plucked at the blanket, eyes downcast, as she waited. Hoping. Disbelieving.

A longsuffering sigh, if one could be interpreted as such, filled the room.

“I may have found some…clarity, regarding certain things.”

A glance up, and she tilted her head, trying to emulate an inquiring expression.

“About what you said, and what I saw when…” he trailed off again, this time finding something decidedly interesting to study on her floor.

Guilt?

A small smile crept onto her face. “And?” was the quiet prompt, and a silent pleading for him to just look at her.

“He said he watched me die,” was mumbled, as he turned away, facing the window and the rain.

At least there was no storm.

___

He had told her a story once, about when he was a child.

They had been sitting in her backyard; him leaning against a tree – with a pillow, he wasn’t going to needless suffer, mind you – and her leaning against him, holding his arms that were holding her.

But when he began to tell her, words halting and unsure, she had turned in his arms, straddling his lap and letting her hands rest on his shoulders.

His grip moved to her hips, fingers unconsciously pressing harder than he ever had.

He had adored Thor. That he would never deny. They had been inseparable – comrades in arms when training; partners in crime when there was a prank to be pulled.

(Thor had been the brunt of many, even at the beginning, but it was all done in fun – no matter what the large oaf might think.)

Then, the slow divide that he became aware of; the chasm that only grew as they did.

And all he had ever wanted was to be loved. To be seen like Thor was.

And how he didn’t understand why everything he did was never good enough, no matter what he did, or how hard he tried.

His mother adored him, but she also loved Thor. Even if she had to correct his older brother more than she did him, she still loved him and cared for him, because that was what was supposed to happen; that’s how children were supposed to be cherished, and-

She had quickly reached up, taking his face in her hands, hushing him quietly.

Thumb stroking away the single tear that had fallen

Well, it didn’t matter now. It couldn’t be changed. It wasn’t really Thor’s fault, after all. He knew that.

But, she had countered, that didn’t mean it wasn’t a real hurt. A real pain. Had had been a child, and it was natural for a child to be hurt when faced with favoritism.

When he had gritted his teeth, bitterly announcing that it didn’t matter, that he had ruined everything anyway, which is why he never tried to explain it to Thor-

-well, she had pressed as closely as she could in silence, head resting on his shoulder, and just let him hold her and release whatever he needed to say.

___

They hadn’t spoken much after that, and here she was, several weeks later, and still thinking about it.

After another few off-handed comments about Thor, lacking the vehemence that had often colored his speech when forced to discuss his brother, Loki had asked about her. How she was feeling.

At least, she though he had.

When he had scoffed at her attempt to communicate how the pregnancy was going, she had to admit defeat.

Only…maybe she didn’t?

He had moved to the door, calling the Tesseract to his hand, when she had said his name with a strength before which she had been unable to find in his presence.

When he paused, the gateway open and waiting for him to fly away, her heart had danced.

“Just…if you need anything, at any time…”

A look back.

“I’m here,” she swallowed down the swell of emotion and dared to meet his eyes.

A nod.

Then he was swallowed up in the vortex.

Figures.

But – and here was her cause of ‘botheration,’ as she had been muttering to herself all day – he had at least acknowledged her. That was something, right?

At least he hadn’t run away immediately.

At least he was acting more like the man she knew he could be.

At least he had talked to Thor.

Right when her thoughts had drifted towards imagining the conversation, and the enthusiastic greeting that would no doubt have come from one half of the pair, and the less-than-thrilled, deadpan parry to such delight, she heard it.

It was a sound unlike anything she had heard before. Thunder, followed by a rushing, lightning-strike sort of sound.

And then it ended as quickly as it had started.

Only, there had been no clouds in the sky a few minutes ago when she had been sitting on the front porch reading, enjoying the early spring sun.

A knock on the back door; there was a tall, broad, blonde shape trying to peer around her curtains, who offered a cheerful wave when he managed to catch a glimpse of her approach.

At least her life was never boring.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #God of Mischief #Father #Others #Submitted fic #submission #return #chapter 5 #theterrifyingtermite

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freakie-deakie · 6 years ago

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Hyunjin // If We Let Go (Part 2)

Guys oh my gosh I didn't think you were gonna like the first part so much and all the positive responses made me so happy I just 😭🙏❤️💕💓💞 tyty I love you all sm

Okay so this was originally a one shot, but I decided to make it into a mini series. I feel like this chapter is a little slow, but I've already started on the next one I promise it gets more exciting. I hope you enjoy it~💕

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Hyunjin x Reader (angst mini series // 3k words)

There was a soft knock at his door, drawing Jeongin's attention back to the outside world after several hours of appreciated solitary confinement. It felt nice for him to blow off some steam through listening to music and napping in his familiar area. His roommates didn't even bother him, which felt like a rare blessing that grew from roots of pity, but he'd take solace in quietness wherever he could find it.

"Do you..." Chan's voice faded away as he gathered his thoughts. "Do you wanna talk about it?" he tried. "I made breakfast for us."

Bang Chan didn't make breakfast for everyone in the shared apartment. Part of him wanted to, and to have everyone eat together when morning came, thinking maybe it would dispell some tension between his teammates. The other part of him knew that it wouldn't work. Even if he had cooked for eight, Felix having been absent and at your aid, many of the members didn't want to look at each other after the bomb had been so casually dropped into yesterday's conversation.

Jeongin's refreshing period of isolation was probably the only reason he didn't get instantly defensive, yet it still hadn't drained his habit of sarcastically shrugging off serious situations.

"You mean about how I totally embarrassed myself and let everyone know about my crush on my friend's ex?" He laughed bitterly. "Thanks hyung, but I'm good."

A sigh could be heard through the thin wood that separated them. "I'm gonna come in," Chan spoke softly.

Before he could even jiggle the door handle, the youngest was already out of bed and holding the door shut. "Hyung, I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget it."

"Let's talk for just a minute," Chan bargained. "Please."

There was a moment if silence and contemplation on both sides of the door. It was so fragile that it was eventually broken by only a soft huff and a click, the younger swiftly opening the door, pulling his older brother inside, and closing it once more.

"Felix is gonna stay with Y/N until things settle down a little bit but-" Chan cut himself off when he saw Jeongin's eyes start to squint to hold back tears. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" He was quickly at his side, pulling his head to his shoulder in a masculine attempt of comfort. The other could have cared less about his masculinity at that moment as he wrapped his arms around his hyung's torso as tightly as his unsteady muscles could let him hold on to someone.

"How could someone be so cruel?" he begged the answer. "And why did I have to say that? I kept it a secret for so long, why did I have to say it at the worst time, in front of everyone?"

Chan held the back of the younger's head, wrapping his spare arm around him to pat his back. "I don't know what they were thinking, honestly."

"I really like her," Jeongin confessed. "I want her to be happy. Why are they so unfair to her? And she'll never know how unfair they've been. It's not fair," he cried, pushing his face harder into the other's shoulder, focusing on trying to keep his breathing under control. Chan mentally noted that Jeongin was still unaware that Y/N had heard the majority of the conversation that took place as he had stormed off before they'd detected her presence.

"I know," Chan soothed, running his hand over the baby hairs at the base of Jeongin's neck. "I know."

•

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bacy," Felix taunted, moving the plate of fresh cooked breakfast foods under your nose, approximately half of your body being draped off the side of your cramped couch. He shook you lightly, trying once more. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty~"

Your eyes fluttered open, still feeling heavy and bound by the seal of dried tears. "You're too good to me," you croaked, slowly sitting up and taking in your surroundings.

"Someone has to be," he commented sideways. There was a small pause before you both broke out into a series of awkward chuckles. "Too soon?"

"Too soon," you agreed.

"Aish, I'm sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood a bit." He put your plate in your lap and went to fetch his own.

When he sat down, he slowly placed a bite of egg in his mouth, eyeing every one of your movements closely as you ate, acting as if he expected you to break down at any moment. He wanted to talk, hoping venting would help you, but he had no idea how to start a conversation about-

"Maybe I'll just become a lesbian," you stated simply, popping a grape in your mouth.

He choked on his bite, holding a hand to the base of his throat and coughing. 'I guess that's one way to do it.'

"I mean, I find girls attractive. Like, maybe not as in I'm attracted to them, but I'm not blind. Who knows, maybe I'll end up gay? Women seem so much easier. Like, I know what a girl wants, 'cause I am one. I don't know how to play my cards with guys. I don't understand how much care I can give them before it hurts their stupid dick-pride, or how much care I can ask for before I get annoying and needy-"

"I'm gonna have to stop you right there." He glared at you from your side. He knew you had a tendency to hide your feelings with twisted humor, laced with self depreciation. "You're not annoying or needy. You just had a bad apple for a boyfriend."

You sighed, laughing with void emotion. "I don't know.. I don't wanna dwell on this."

"It hasn't even been a day. No one will judge you if you take some time to heal-"

"I've had plenty of time. Time is a virtue. In the time I've had, I decided I want to forget everything. Close a chapter, get a fresh start."

"You've literally been awake for like two minutes."

"And in those two minutes I decided to become a lesbian and not care that giving someone four months of my undivided love and attention was only for a bet because my significant other was actually repulsed by me. Look at me, gettin' on with my life."

"Look, Hyunj-" he stopped himself when he saw your eyes flicker with petty anger. "The guy was undeniably a brainless dick, but like you said, up his. So now, self-care. And self-care starts with talking out the things you need to talk out to prevent bottling. I know this because I watched a lot of Dr. Phill."

You poked his leg with your fork, earning a yelp. "I'm not bottling, I'm just being the bigger person and letting go."

You both ate in silence until your brain formulated another question. You were about to ask, but Felix confessed before he even knew you were on the same page.

"By the way, I had to pick your lock last night. I got the door open, low-key might have broken your handle though. Someone is bringing your purse later."

You eyed him with such false disgust that he gave you one of his own biscuits as an apology.

You laughed lightly, putting it back on his plate and standing, done with your own. You dropped it off by your sink and rewrapped yourself in your comforter.

Felix finished eating just in enough time to move his plate from his lap to the coffee table and allow you to take its place.

"I don't wanna cry on you," you chuckled, tears coming back to your eyes. "I don't wanna be weak; but if you don't leave, I'm going to."

Yet again, Felix tried another not-well-timed joke to sooth you. "Well you just laid on me, fatty. I don't really have an option now, do I?" More tears threatened to spill from your eyes at that. You buried your face in his chest, a small sniffle escaping you. "I'm sorry, that was mean. And it's not true, you're beautiful and I want you to cry on me."

"Do you think that's why he didn't like me? Because I'm-"

"Don't you even call yourself fat." He looked down at you, his hand that wasn't holding you up and rubbing your back threatening to flick your forehead. "Or clingy, or needy. Sure, you sometimes one-eighty your emotions, but that's part of your perfection. You're perfect; it's that dick that needs some serious readjustments."

You softly hit his chest, chuckling to yourself as your face continued to become a fully functioning water park. "Shh, this ain't about your opinions. Just let me rant." He removed your hand from his chest and held it, his thumb running over the back of it.

"I want you to rant in a healthy way then. No self deprecation, understand?" You pitifully nodded, wiping at your eyes until the skin of your cheeks was raw.

"I don't wanna do this. I'm not good with talking through actual emotions. Can we just go lay in bed and watch movies? I think I wanna call in sick today anyways."

He gave you a couple of minutes to calm down before lifting you and stumbling to your bedroom. He plopped you on the bed and moved to get your laptop. "The Lion King, Frozen, The Lone Ranger? What are you in the mood for."

"Fifty Shades," you said just to tip him off.

"My Little Pony it is."

•

The first thing Hyunjin did when he got up was stretch and check his messages out of habit. But there were none.

On any normal day, the group chat would have been being spammed with the names of Spanish foods beginning with letters A through Z, or an argument about which horse breed is the best. If not that, there was always your message waiting in his in-box. Today, there was nothing.

His room was empty, too. He figured his roommates had probably crashed with someone else.

He rolled out of his bed, slipping his feet into his slippers and straightening his pajama-bottoms. Scratching the back of his neck, he padded down the hallway and into the kitchen. There was nobody.

Everything was eerily quiet.

He found two plates of food on the stove top, but as no one in the dorms had ever made breakfast for all of them, he knew their owners would return for them soon. He poured himself cereal and sat at the counter.

Low and behold, he was right. As he scrolled through media pages on his phone, two bodies joined him in the kitchen. One, the baby of the group with tears running down his face, his red puffy eyes being more than enough to make Hyunjin freeze and rest his spoon in his bowl and phone on the counter. Neither, though both noticing his presence, decided to acknowledge him.

"Jeongin.." Hyunjin tried. The maknae didn't turn to him, taking his plate from Chan and heading towards the door, the leader right behind him. "Jeongin, what's wrong?"

"Screw off, hyung."

Being the responsible figure in loco parentis, Chan obviously wasn't in support of his members fighting. Tension only made everything more horrible, from tight living conditions to an already stressful work environment. At the same time, he felt Hyunjin deserved to hear those words. He still deeply cared about him, and didn't want him to think badly of himself, but he wasn't against someone telling him to reevaluate himself.

Hyunjin received the silent treatment from the majority of his members all week. Others involved in the scandal hid away in their rooms most of the time. Felix had come home, but refused to sleep in the same room as Jisung, opting to sleep in the couch instead. You hadn't reached out to any of them since you kicked Felix out of your apartment so you could cry in peace. Most of you found yourselves drowning in work to avoid the problem that resided between you all.

All lines of communication were too quiet. Not even the members texted each other. Social silence.

And so, for the third time, Felix finds himself picking the lock on your door. A sigh of relief fell off his lips when a soft click and low creek alerted him that he now had safe entry.

He slipped inside, passing the kitchenette and into the living area. He found you sprawled out on the sofa, catching Z's while anime played in the background.

Upon further investigation, he discovered your bed made, not a wrinkle in it's sheets, and two empty boxes of microwavable popcorn. The trashcan was overflowing with butter lined bags that smelled of (favorite seasoning), the smell so far past being intensely olfactible that he gagged.

There weren't any used dishes laying around, aside from the mug of a suspicious liquid on the coffee table in front of you and the half eaten bowl of popcorn ready to slip out of your grasp.

On your work desk sat a completed stack of papers that stood impossibly high for a stack of papers. 'She's overworking herself.'

He shook his head, closing the door and making his way back towards the entrance to your kitchen. He was going to break your unhealthy food cycle that consisted of popcorn and what he assumed to be some sort of caffeine. He started at an ungodly hour, seeing as he was going to be cooking for a decently large group of people.

--a few hours--

When you woke up, you didn't even clock the other people in your house. You pulled yourself off of the couch and slumped to the bathroom.

"Wow, she looks like death," Changbin commented to the boy at his side who sipped his coffee and nodded.

When you finished your business, you washed your hands and looked in the mirror. Your hair was distraught, clothes disheveled, and skin under the attack of a light break out.

Groaning, you turned on the shower to let it heat up and ungraceful stumbled out to turn on the coffee machine. It wasn't until you had passed them and noticed the already made coffee that you noticed the six boys who resided in your kitchen and were watching every one of your movements closely.

Changbin and Chan sat at your island bar, Jeongin leaning most of his weight on the prior. Woojin stood by the cabinets, and Seungmin leaned in the fake marble countertop. The artificial ginger with the thick accent stood over the stove, a spatula hovering above the scrambled eggs.

You all looked at each other.

Silence.

Awkward silence.

"Well, uhm," you started, trying to gather your thoughts before your mouth ran off and left you behind. At least, you tried to but all you could really process was the fact that you looked like an absolute mess and you had no idea why there were people in your apartment. "Since you already started the coffee, I guess I'm gonna hit the shower," you said quietly, holding up a peace sign and backing out of the open space.

When you returned, everyone ate in uncomfortable banter, most of which was praising Felix for his cooking skills. Finally, you got around to asking, "So why are you guys here?"

They looked at one another with confusion. "You sent us all messages last night telling us to visit you today," voiced the leader. Felix's mouth stretched into a wide, impossibly-missed grin.

"You little snake," you said, narrowing your eyes at the boy who sat across from you. "I gave you my phone password for emergencies! How did you even get my- Did you break into my house again?"

"This was an emergency," he whined. "We miss you! We want to make you happy. And you needed to eat something that wasn't junk food."

You huffed, sticking another bite in your mouth. "You're such a worrywart. I'm fine."

"Y/N," Changbin cut in, "we're never gonna stop worrying about you."

Breakfast continued, eventually falling into more inviting idle chat about anything and everything that was not involving the tree people who were missing from the crowd. Afterwards, four of the boys excused themselves for work.

"Jeongin, Felix, it's cool if you two want to stay or go home since you recorded your parts yesterday."

You chuckled at the hard working men standing by your door. "You guys really still have to work on your days off?"

Chan sent a wink in your direction. "We'll sleep when we're dead, babygirl. Don't worry about us."

"Speak for yourself, hyung. I need my naps," Seungmin butted in.

"We're off to the studio if you need anything," Woojin restated before walking his children out the door.

You played video games for a while with the two that were left. After a while, you ended up just watching them because you were still moderately tired from pulling late nights. Work had been drowning recently, but it made for a good escape, almost convincing you to stop swimming away from it. Almost convincing you to sink.

A couple of weeks went by like that. Working, working, working, spending time with Felix, working, working, spending time with Jeongin, working, working, being occasionally visited or checked in on by one of your friends that didn't stab you in the back, working, working, and more working.

You unintentionally used work as a way to distance yourself from everyone. You voluntarily let your job as a(n) (occupation) consume you. You didn't have time to worry about your boys, or boys in general. You didn't have time to remember that you loved someone who had bet against you or that one of his best friends had admitted to liking you in the fire of the moment.

It felt like heaven to have none of that be relevant anymore.

But it was more than relevant to Hyunjin, who was now missing a surprisingly large piece of his day.

You.

Even he couldn't believe how long it took him to come around to the idea that you were important to him.

168 notes · View notes