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kiwikipedia · 2 years ago

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I decided that I better post the first and second ascensions before I went insane and did the third fully. Circe’s staff is a placeholder, but once I have all three I’ll post this again lol

Anyways, did you know that there’s almost zero muscular guys with their legs showing fully? I worked with Caligula but it was still a bit of a trial. There’s a lot more of guys who wear armor and leg coverings than you’d think!

I used and edited assets from Summer Robin Hood, Summer Blackbeard, and Waver (shirt), Rider Da Vinci (ponytail... hair not uh, horse tail), Summer Marie, Kiara, and Kiyohime (hat and flowers) , Caligula (as stated above), Summer Costume and Alter Emiya (Torso and cooler), and Lancer Arturia Alter (horse ears). Saddle bag and towel were hand done and everything else was taken and edited from Chiron’s own assets.

Not including the Draft Layers, Two Ascensions end up close to 400 Layers which seems like a lot but when you factor in the combination of color, lineart, shading and the shirt’s texturing, its a lot. Fate’s sprites are all cut up so you gotta make sure it all fits, yeah?

Anyways (again), I have a general plot line for the Summer Event with Caster Summer Chiron (tentatively called Eternal Summer Stage / Lost Summer Stage) and also the individual sets below the cut as well as the taglist

In general, I’m thinking that kinda like the Hawai’i event, this one takes place in Greece, but things are really different — either the nation’s been condensed or it’s impossible to tell where you are in Greece, even for the Greeks.

The premise is that something or someone is creating an influx of energy there, causing an unbalance or some shit but while the threat level is low, allowing for you to take your time (as all Summer events do), it still needs to be dealt with.

Chiron is your main companion Servant though he’s not the welfare one. He, alongside of a rather enthusiastic Li Shuwen and unmasked Berserker Lancelot— both of which are also Summer Servants for the first half wave (Li being either Saber or Berserker) and Lancelot being a Lancer but still Berserker’s more mellowed and gloomy character.

(Costume dress Servants are still up in the air but I’m weighing more on Hans Christian Biggerson and Geronimo, with the long overdue Hawai’i Cu, and Medusa)

Upon arrival, there’s all sorts of plays and performances going on up and down the coast and further inland where there’s a large village up against a Mountain. Both myth and man are mingling, to which Medusa and Chiron both note to be something much out of an ancient sort of tale (hence why Chiron can take his true form and no one cares).

The first half of the event is mostly solving the mystery of what this influx of energy even is— which is where you meet the second Summer Servants for the first half. Technically not Summer in terms of Class change, Ching Shih is the first you meet, dressed in that event’s other Costume Dress for her summer look. She’s happy to help, though there seems to be something a bit off about how easily things start to pop up after that. Plays pertaining to [ ] and other tales, along with even more heroic legends being spun and told. At night, you often run into an unknown woman who sits and chats with you about things as well.

All the while, Chiron seems to become more and more troubled as time goes on.

One night, however, you wander outside the inn because you can’t sleep only to get attacked by rouge Servants. This is when the second meeting happens— and it’s the “Dark fellow” that Ching Shih has been talking about. None other than Sir Agravain of Iron is here.

Though he recognizes you, he doesn’t say much on the matter, simply defeating the rouge Servants and sending them back to the Throne mercilessly. Post fight, Chiron arrives with Ching Shih and Li Shuwen and Agravain is formally introduced.

(There’s an entire thing about him wearing black armor and then you get his costume dress for free)

After that, the reveal that there’s all sorts of half-phantom-half-servants or rouge servants hiding about is finally confirmed though you’ve been fighting shadows and monsters before, the real task is at hand.

In general throughout the farming periods, the Servants will state that they are splitting up to investigate the area, kinda like the very first summer event where each location is a little bit of a sub story (Lancer-lot and Cu are at the shore investigating traces of magical energy with Geronimo, Li Shuwen and Medusa are investigating the plays and performances with Ching Shih, Biggerson and Agravain are in the town investigating there) so that’s there to get the rest of the costume dresses in the shop (Ching Shih, Cu, Medusa, Biggerson, Gero, etc)

The second half has much more to do with Chiron than the first, though he’s your companion for the first half.

Achilles joins the group, though like Ching Shih, he seems a bit odd, but he arrives and arrives with startling news which kicks off the second half of the event— the mountain against the town is Mount Pelion, the Birthplace of Greek Heroes.

This, of Course, has Chiron absolutely of kilter because suddenly he’s home. Ching Shih admits that she feels like a majority of the Singularity’s power is coming from the Mountain but didn’t want to risk going there because it’s crawling with phantom-servants— which only spurs Chiron to restate that he should still go to investigate there.

Everyone decides to go after that, because Chiron clearly isnt about to just up and let it go.

As you go through the mountain you learn a bit more about it from Chiron and Achilles, and Medusa inputs some that she knows. Agravain and Lancelot get into a minor fight, but it’s settled by Hans mostly, the usually in-between stuff.

Oh and did I mention that during this time there’s also cutscenes and non battle story from an unknown person’s POV within another space? Because there is.

In general, I’m still working out the middle chunks, but the ending is pretty much the arrival at Chiron’s Cave, only to be met by the mysterious woman who you’ve been talking to at night. It turns out that she’s Chariclo and she admits— or seems to admit— that she’s been summoning Servants from between the lines of history and Servants that normally have been gotten overlooked for some reason or another due to either being seen as not heroic enough, prejudiced factors, or they’ve simply been forgotten.

Some other stuff happens, and right when she’s about to say something pretty important you’re interrupted... by you.

Another version of you has arrived and it turns out that while Chariclo has been summoning and maintaining Servants, it wasn’t her choice. The other You has been having her do so in order to find [ ] and you know who that is— how could you not?

An argument breaks out, the other You is convinced that Chariclo has already summoned That Man, and while she doesn’t deny it, she states she can’t let the Other You into the Cave because it’ll ruin things. the Other You is determined, and perhaps a bit irrational with obsession to see That Man again and orders the Shadows to attack.

While almost every Servant is there for support, Achilles is not, and when the battles are done you realize why as Achilles stands by the Other You.

Chariclo is firm, continuing to refuse entry into the cave, and the Other You has had enough. Achilles is revealed to have not been Chaldea’s Achilles and apologizes before he’s ordered to kill Chariclo. Obviously, Chiron’s not about that, and takes the blow, severely wounding him.

Of course, this causes a chain reaction, as Li Shuwen and Agravain immoderately go for the kill on Achilles— the Other You makes a move for the Cave, you intercept Yourself because even though Chariclo might not have been a full alley, she had protected the Cave vehemently, Medusa and the others hold off the others are still fighting the shadows, before the mountain shakes.

While not dead, Chiron’s blood on Chariclo’s hands is enough to pull her from her passive state and forge a temporary contract with you. In combination, you and Chariclo stop the Other You and there’s a long conversation about grief and letting go before You and the shadows leave— either fading away or just leaving.

Once gone, Chariclo immediately has you bring Chiron into the cave so she can start healing him.

This is where you meet your welfare— none other than Romani Archaman himself. He’s weak, of course, but there and its a big reunion moment only to be interrupted by the Singularity destabilizing now that the Other You is gone.

There’s conflict, of course. Chariclo wasn’t lying when she said that Romani was too unstable to bring back. Similarly, the only reason she was able to appear, that she knows of, is because they are at Mount Pelion meaning she too is too unstable to follow a Rayshift. Unless a Holy Grail is used.

A choice is presented that you have to make, but all your choices are Romani, no matter how much you or Chiron want to bring Chariclo back as well. When you make your choice, Chariclo will present you a Grail and admit she didn’t use it on Romani at first because she was terrified what the Other You would do when Romani was stable.

With Romani Stabilized, everyone moves to head back down the Mountain for a rayshift back, but Chiron lingers. There’s grief, of course, but the two must say goodbye once more.

... Only, upon arriving in Chaldea, it turns out to not be the case.

Upon Chiron’s injury, Chariclo’s Noble Phantasm, “Lifeblood of Pelion”, quite literally used Chiron’s blood as fuel upon it being soaked into the ground. While they’re not the same as Ryoma and Oryou, as they’re separate Servants, Chiron and Chariclo’s origins linked and allowed for her to exist in Chaldea as another Caster. it’s a bittersweet ending, as Ching Shih and Agravain did not follow— but it’s no worry. Ching Shih stated that she’d see you again, and Agravain, while he didn’t say so, simply nodded in response.

( * Basically Ching Shih and Agravain are added to the permanent summon pool with Ching Shih being a 5* Rider and Agravain a 3* Assassin )

Chaldea Achilles remains extremely put out that he had been the one to harm Chariclo in the Singularity— and also annoyed he couldn’t go because he was busy making sure that Herc didn’t go off the rails.

Post event, the usual collection of the other 4 copies for the np5 welfare are unlocked along with a costume dress for Romani. Who is a Shielder class Servant.

So yeah. That’s basically the bare-bones of the idea. I don’t quite remember where the Shielder Romani idea came from but I saw a post on it and filed it away in my brain forever. The only reason Medusa, Cu, and Gero aren’t full servants is because I really couldn’t think of good classes for them. The only ones I can really think of for Gero is Avenger, and Medusa has alts for lancer and avenger, and Cu has alts for saber caster and berseker... also there’s the Servant pool of Ching Shih, Agravain, Chariclo, Chiron, and Li Shuwen, which is a hefty number even if the first two are perma summon.

If Third Asc Chiron doesn’t obliterate my soul then I’m probably going to work on Summer Li Shuwen next, or the Costume Dress trio of Gero, Medusa, and Cu. Then we’ll see about making those sprites where there’s no character base to use at all.. I might die (jk)

But when I do post the third ascension I’m going to include hatless Chiron because he’s got a lil bow hair tie and the horse ears are CUTE as hell

Anyways, Tag list below. Good god if you made it this far congratulations I know I ramble and make zero sense half the time

Taglist Form or feel free to ask me to get tagged (just DM!):

@jedifisto @spaceydragons @purgetrooperfox @spacerocksarethebestrocks @insanelytomato @babygirljoelmiller @certified-anakinfucker @d3epfriedanger @genifer-championofpaldea @thecodyagenda @babygirl-leon-kennedy @txtalnyx @jawajawas

Please tell me if you want to be taken off of the list as this is no longer just Star Wars art

Additional Tags for those who have been interested in Summer Chiron the past few days (i hope you dont mind):

@300iqprower @bitterrosebrokenspear @random-senpai

#Penguinkiwi Creates #fgo spoilers #maybe not but better safe than sorry #im going to die though my eyes are watering #fgo chiron #Chiron #fate chiron #fgo fan singularity #fgo fan event #fgo #fate go #fate grand order #fate #archer of black #FGO Male Swimsuit Event #FGO Male Servant Alt #Kiwi Creates #Eternal Summer Stage (Fan Event)

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ollieofthebeholder · 5 months ago

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I don't spend as much time at the library as I used to (as a kid, I'd go at least once a week, especially in the summer), but last Thursday the ballgame got rained out and I had a whole day off and I had a couple books I'd checked out to prep for my first GMing session and forgotten to return (several months ago - oops) and there was a library right down the train line from where the ballgame wasn't, so I went and spent the rest of the day. Here are some thoughts from a patron's perspective.

Libraries are SO much better than bookstores, especially big-name bookstores these days. Not just that you can get 20-30 books without spending a penny, but also that there are ACTUALLY books and the space hasn't been half taken over with games and Funko Pops.

The librarian in the Twitter thread is right - libraries aren't quiet spaces anymore - but what they don't mention is that, somehow, that makes it better. I felt very much for the poor group leader who was trying to stop her kids from hitting each other, and I almost got run over by a thundering herd of small children who had discovered that there was ANOTHER WHOLE ROOM to the children's floor (the main room had toys and interactive floors and was where the picture books were, the back room had the chapter books and middle-grade reader stuff), but it was just so much more welcoming than the stiff, silent "SHHH" era of my childhood. And, at least at my library, there is a whole quiet floor if you need peace to get something done.

The librarian is also right about the signs on doors. Mine has signs on both automatic doors that said "Please stand back and be patient, doors open slowly" and I STILL saw at least three people run (or nearly run) into them because they expected the doors to just whoosh open. (They weren't even THAT slow, just not the insanely fast ones you get at the supermarket.)

My two biggest anxieties walking in were a) I hate talking to people, especially when I have to confess to a screw-up, and b) I was dreading how much the fine on those books would be, since I'd had them so long. I didn't need to worry about either one. I hesitantly walked up to the front desk and explained my dilemma, and the clerk immediately and cheerfully told me to go talk to the circulation desk and they'd take care of it, and added that she really hoped they hadn't "added on the $25" because that was the only thing that couldn't come off. Went over to circulation and, yeah, turns out my library (and apparently a lot of libraries) has completely eliminated fines as long as you eventually bring the book back. The $25 is if it's been gone for too long and they either reported the book as lost or sent it to collections, but in my case, that hadn't been added on, so in the span of about two seconds the library had the books back and I had a free and clear card should I want to check out books immediately.

Reading challenges! Reading challenges for ADULTS!! Reading challenges for adults that go on ALL YEAR LONG!!! Reading challenges for adults that go on all year long and AREN'T just about checking off some arbitrary "diversity points" on a checklist!!!! I was looking at the one at our library and it was basically giving you a different category - a very BROAD category - for each month. The one for July was "a children's classic."

There are SO MANY different types of study areas. There are comfy chairs in quiet corners. There are long tables with multi-tap plugs for technology overlooking the main lobby. There are inexplicable desks tucked up against support columns. There are benches along the walls. Mine even has a terrace on the third floor - I didn't go out there because it was raining, but I wanted to SO bad.

A good library staff knows how to attract readers, and what will attract readers. All the displays had at least one book with a really bright-colored cover front and center, so it catches your eye even BEFORE you see the sign telling you what it's a display of. And the displays are always really interesting. You get the stuff you expect like Pride Month or Local History or whatever, but when I went in on Thursday there was an entire display that was something along the lines of "You Didn't Deserve Your Parents Treating You Like That".

Libraries are great. I'm going to have to start visiting one at least once a month. I loved them as a kid, and I still love them now.

#libraries #long post

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sixofpomegranates · 2 years ago

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☠︎ 𝚅𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚜 ☠︎ -𝙴.𝙼.

⚡︎{Eddie’s Masterlist}•{Requests/Feedback}•{Guidlines}⚡︎

Summary: Duffer Brother-Esque pain. You’d be perfect, but the stars don't favor your love.

A/N: !Body, Ethnicity & Skin color Neutral! I just Duffer Brothered myself. It's a retelling of what happened to Eddie with an x Fem!Reader element.

CW: All Angst - No Happy End! 18+ | Mentions of Bullying/Jealousy/Eddie's Parents(abuse/neglect)/Underage Drinking/Tattoos (y/n & Eddie), Drugs & selling & use of (Weed), Pining/Childhood Crush, Death, Blood, slight gore, Major Character Death,

*picture does not describe the looks of the reader*

My entire life, I'd been in love with Eddie Munson.

It was something about his smile, about how he seemed scary and insane but was actually a weird sweetheart. Whenever he smiled, my heart skipped a beat, and when he laughed, a soft warmth spread through my body.

Once, I was nine, I fell off my bike and scraped my knee. Eddie had noticed it, seen me from afar, and stopped to check on me and hand me a band-aid. He had lots he carried around, for moments when he got into fights, for moments he accidentally hurt himself, or for when his father had been abusive and he'd left his home in a hurry.

After child protective services finally gave custody over him to his uncle, Eddie had lost his brown curls. His uncle had to shave his head because nobody had taught Eddie how to care for himself; it was full of knots and lice.

Everybody knew, and kids were teasing him and staying away from him, making him an outsider. Yet, he never lost his smile or humor.

I found it endearing.

The first time I realized that my childhood crush was still there and had only become so much bigger, was a month before it came back.

Robin and Steve had taken me to a party hosted by one of the basketball players from Junior College. None of us had wanted to go, except for Steve, but he'd been right when he told us that although we saved Hawkins, we needed to move on and live the life after it as well.

Robin, lastly, just went to see him get rejected by college girls...

At the party, I'd met plenty of guys, either drunk, or high, or both. None had piqued my interest, so I just grabbed a beer and snug outside. It'd been too full to find my friends anyway.

The front yard was almost empty, some guys hanging out on the porch, buying drugs. I sat on the white Hollywood swing, drinking my beer. The men passed me, one sitting down next to me.

I'd already counted on this guy hitting on me, but instead, a familiar chuckle came from him. "Hey, [y/n]."

I looked to my side, Eddie sitting there, lunchbox in his lab. "Hi," I gave back. "I thought you didn't like parties?"

"Oh, I don't, but they're good for business."

I nodded, taking a sip from my beer, while Eddie lit himself a joint. I watched his coarse hand full of big rings lead the joint to his lips, the other one brushing through his curly mane. He was handsome.

Not the type you took home to meet your parents, but the type of beautiful that gave you butterflies nonetheless, making you forget that the stars could maybe not favor the both of you together.

"Want a hit," he suddenly asked, having caught me staring. I nodded, taking a hit while he still held the joint for me. "You're graduating this year as well, right?"

I nodded, taking a sip of my beer. "Yeah. Class of '86."

"It's a good year."

"Is it?"

He nodded, a boyish grin on his lips. "Absolutely. I can feel stuff like that."

I handed him my beer, offering him to drink just as he shared his joint with me. The loud music was barely as annoying as it had been inside. Sitting there with Eddie was nice.

"They have zero taste in music in there, now do they?" Eddie asked appalled, seconds after the third song of The Bee Gees started to play.

I giggled. "You don't like it?"

Rolling his eyes, he couldn't help but grin. "Awful."

Staring at him while he took another sip from my beer, I started biting the pillowy part of my bottom lip.

He flashed me a smile as he noticed it. "Careful," he said, coming a little closer. "I might end up thinking you have the hots for me."

"You're so full of yourself, Munson," I snickered, softy hitting his chest.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "But wouldn't you like to be?"

We stared at each other for a moment and then burst into laughter.

"This was the worst pick-up line I've ever heard," I exclaimed, watching him wipe the tears from his eyes.

"It's the worst I ever used," he admitted. "I feel dirty, and not in a good way."

As we collected ourselves again, he began swaying us back and forth on the Hollywood swing.

"I like you, Eddie," I told him gently. "You're always so happy and sweet."

Pressing his lips together, he began to blush, "Thanks."

"Just tell me you're getting flattered easily?" I gently teased him.

He nodded, solely becoming redder. "Flattery works with me very well."

"Kay, I'll remember that."

As both joint and beer were finished, we simply continued talking.

"I don't know if you can remember, but when I was eleven, I saw you fall off your bike and hurt your knee. I was kinda the first responder."

I nodded, "Yeah, how could I forget? You gave me a band-aid with tigers on it."

"Y-You cried, and I didn't know what else to do."

Eddie carefully laid his hand on my thigh, and I began playing with his rings. They were cold, forming a harsh contrast to his warm hand. I liked the feeling.

As another Bee Gees song began to play, he curled his nose, shaking his head a little. "Hey, would you- would you like to dump this party and go eat a burger instead? My treat."

My first instinct was to say yes, but instead, I said, "I- I'm here with friends..."

Eddie quickly nodded, pulling his hand from my grasp. "Yeah, sorry. That was stupid of me. I- It's the pot, you know. Makes me a little dumb." He jumped up. "I need to go anyway. Got some homework to do. See ya around."

"Eddie, I didn't mean..." He'd already run away.

I felt a knot form in my stomach. I should've talked faster and said things differently. I would've loved to grab something to eat with him.

Robin soon found me still sitting on the Hollywood swing, and although she loved to tease me for not acting on my feelings towards the metalhead, this time, she solely listened and held my hand while I talked myself crazy.

Then the Upside Down came back to haunt us, and it also began haunting Eddie. He was now a wanted man, searched for murder in the name of his satanic cult.

He'd done nothing wrong and yet paid the price. I wished that it wouldn't be a common pattern in our fight against this other side, but it was.

As we met for the first time since hell broke loose, it was at Skull Rock. We stared at each other for a second, and I knew he wasn't sure if I, as well, thought him to be a monster.

Only after he'd eaten and found out that I was in on everything, he felt brave enough to talk to me. I'd welcomed it, helping him catch up with all that happened since the night Will had disappeared.

"So, you guys do that often?" he asked me, trying to sound casual while we walked through the woods.

I nodded. "Steve, Nancy, and the kids more often than me, though. I joined them at the freaking 4th of July disaster."

"So, Billy Hargrove, the mall...?"

"Yep."

"And this girl, Eleven, doesn't have her powers anymore, making us basically defenseless..." he concluded while looking around, clearly overwhelmed.

"It gets easier," I assured him. "Well, first it gets worse, but then easier."

"Because you get used to the crazy?" he chuckled, making me giggle.

"Yeah, kind of."

"Awesome. Can't wait."

As our laughter ceased, his hand wrapped around my wrist. Eddie stopped walking, making us stay behind and out of hearing distance.

"I- I didn't-" he stopped, swallowing roughly. "I didn't hurt Chrissy. I- I didn't kill her. I could never hurt anybody like that. I- I don't even like confrontation when it isn't just being a dick from afar."

"I know," I said, noticing the tears he held back. "I never thought you did it."

Within a second, his arms were wrapped around me, his face buried in my neck. At first, I was shocked, just standing there, but as a shaky sigh escaped him, I immediately relaxed. I wrapped my arms around him, and he pulled me even closer.

His clothes smelled like they were in desperate need of a wash, but I didn't care. My heart was nearly jumping out of my chest, my stomach was full of butterflies, and for a moment, nothing else mattered.

'I could get used to this,' I thought. But sadly, he let go of me after a while, quickly turning his back to me in an effort to not have me see his tears.

"Hey," I cooed, laying a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find a way to fix this."

"Everyone thinks I'm a murderer, [y/n]," he said, turning around. "How would we fix this?"

I pressed my lips together, removing my hand from his shoulder. "I- I don't know," I admitted, making him scoff.

"Yeah, thought so."

Eddie turned in the direction the others had gone and, again, ran. He ran before I could say anything else. Before I could come up with a plan, or at least a lie, that would buy me time.

This was a mess, a mess so bad that it had probably not only killed but also buried my chance ever to be more to Eddie than just an acquaintance he was saving Hawkins with.

Distraction. Eddie, Dustin, and I would be distracting the demobats, while Nancy, Steve, and Robin would hopefully kill Vacna with Max as bait.

A sense of dread overcame me as we prepared ourselves and our weapons in a field near the trailer park. We'd seen what those bats could do – attacking Steve like little, flying piranhas. We'd seen what Vecna was capable of.

After running around with Dustin, still able to laugh after all that had happened these past days, Eddie walked up to me. He flopped himself down on the grass next to me. Since he ran from our last, there had been no conversation solely containing us, and I'd actually thought that he would continue to avoid me.

"We made some pretty cool shields," he said, smiling at me carefully.

"Yeah, saw that," I smiled back.

His hand sneaked to my thigh, resting there. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, while my hand went down to his, so I could fidget with his rings.

"Premonitions," I mumbled.

Eddie frowned. "A gut feeling? You're having one of those right now, Sweetheart?"

I nodded. "We're in over our heads," I said, looking over at our friends laughing.

"You wanna tell the others?" he asked, but I shook my head.

Watching Lucas and Erica bicker, I giggled before feeling a wave of sadness crashing down on me. This little bit of normality shouldn't be so rare and pleasant to see.

"You know what's the worst part of all this?" I asked Eddie, and he shook his head. "Erica is eleven years old. This started when she was nine, and the boys were only twelfth. They're not at an age they should worry about dying while saving the world."

He looked over to the kids, seeing how Erica flung something at her brother, Steve stepping between them.

"They don't seem like they're worried... Except for Max. They're tough little shits," Eddie shrugged, laughing as the kids all attacked Steve, throwing him to the ground and making Nancy step in since he was still injured.

"Can you promise me something?"

"Anything," he whispered, leaning closer and staring at me with those beautiful brown eyes.

I swallowed roughly, looking away from his gaze. "I definitely wouldn't say I'm an adult just because I'm eighteen, but here, in this situation, we are the adults," I explained, licking over my lips and swallowing down tears. "It's our duty to protect the kids. They deserve the chance to grow up and move past this."

Before I could say anything more, Eddie interrupted me, "I- I know where this is going. [y/n], we're gonna make it, all of us. We have a plan, Nancy Wheeler is an insane person with guns, and you all went through this before."

He tried looking away, but I put a hand on his cheek, forcing him to keep eye contact. "If push comes to shove, we have to get Dustin out of there. He's with us; he's our responsibility."

Eddie took my hand from his cheek, holding it in both of his. He smiled gently in an effort to keep me calm, "We're all going to make it."

"Promise me that you won't play hero," I insisted, making him laugh.

"Sweetheart, you know I'm not a hero. I see danger; I run."

"Some situations need you to be smart and run. Just promise me you'll take Dustin with you."

He nodded, still having a boyish grin on his lips. "I promise. But like I said, we're all gonna make it out. Worst case, I'll throw the two of you over my shoulder and pull a speed racer."

Fair enough, this made me giggle again. Eddie's self-deprecating humor had me wrapped around his little finger.

"There we go," he chuckled. "You're so much prettier when you laugh."

"Now don't you start flirting with me, Munson," I warned him jokingly, having him raise his eyebrows and lean so close I recognized small, almost invisible freckles on the bridge of his nose.

"Why? What would happen if I did?"

His question knocked the air out of my lungs. I wasn't sure if he'd guessed my feelings, played with me, or solely wanted to keep our little banter up, but he drove me crazy in a very unknown to me but welcomed manner.

"I- I-" I stammered while his hopeful eyes fixated on my lips. "I would-"

"Guys, it's showtime," Steve suddenly yelled, having us look over. Everyone was getting into the stolen RV.

Eddie grinned at me, flirtatious. "Hold that thought, okay?" he said, helping me up. "We'll talk after we killed Vecna." Then he walked up to our friends.

"Eddie," I called after him, making him turn around and chuckle.

"Protect the kids. I know, Sweetheart."

So close to disaster, I finally caught a glimpse of heaven. Eddie Munson was beautiful, and no matter how often I had seen him play at The Hideout with his band Corroded Coffin, I couldn't get over how beautiful he looked, wholly focused on his music.

Our distraction had become Eddie playing 'Master of Puppets' by Metallica, having him pull on every earthly string attached to my silly little doll-heart.

Hiding in the trailer, Eddie and Dustin began jumping up and down, excitedly yelling about having been part of the most metal concert ever. Eddie's arm wrapped around my waist, making me jump with them.

But soon, the bats came through the vents. We hadn't thought about the vents; how could we have forgotten? Outside the trailer, inside Eddie's room... there were thousands of bats trying to find their way to us.

Eddie and I exchanged a look, him pushing Dustin and me behind himself, his spear ready to protect us.

"We need to go," I told Dustin. "Climb, climb," I hurried him.

"They're just gonna follow us through the portal," the boy yelled, having me feel the same dawning premonition as when we were out on the field.

These bats couldn't come to our dimension. They'd wreak havoc on our town.

"LET'S Go!" Eddie screamed at us, the door to the bedroom starting to give in. "LET'S GO!"

"Just climb, Dustin," I told the boy, trying to hide my panic. "It's gonna be okay."

When he was safe on the other side of the portal, Eddie turned to me; spear still pointed in the direction of the door.

"Next you, Sweetheart," he said, but I shook my head.

"Dustin's right. They're gonna come through the portal."

He nodded. "We're gonna barricade it once we're out of here."

"That won't be enough, Eddie."

Our eyes met again, and I could swear he saw what I was thinking.

"GUYS!" Dustin called us. "HURRY UP!"

"I'm gonna distract them," I told Eddie, quiet enough that Dustin couldn't hear me. "You go through the portal, and if bats start coming through it... Just barricade it."

He shook his head, determined, "I am not going to leave you here."

"You have to."

"I don't have to do jack-shit," he scoffed. "Not letting you play bait for those things."

"You promised me we're going to put the kids' well-being before our own."

"[y/n]-" he started more gently, but I interrupted him.

"I'm going to be fine," I lied, looking into Eddie's big brown eyes one last time. "I'll see you later."

Storming out of the trailer, bats already started swarming me, scratching every inch of skin they could reach. The first scratch across my face burned terribly, but the next ones were dulled down due to the adrenaline in my veins.

I grabbed one of the bikes lying around and jumped on it, driving down the road as fast as I could. I was directionless, tears pricking in my eyes as the screaming bat came closer and closer.

Then they attacked, throwing themselves at me and the bike. I lost my balance and crashed onto the ground. Having nothing to defend myself with, I curled up into a ball.

The bats were relentless, biting, scratching, and tearing threw my skin. I screamed; in a weak moment as one wrapped its tail around my neck, even begging for the pain to stop, for them to leave me alone. The tail around my neck had me struggling, trying to get away, and lastly, departing my defensive position, allowing these monsters to tear into the vulnerable flesh of my stomach.

That was when the bat strangling me got flung away. Eddie entered my teary-eyed view, bloodied and mangled like me. He collapsed then and there, crawling closer and wrapping his arms around me as though he was still able to protect me.

After a long while, the demobats grew sick of us. They weren't like regular animals. They hadn't hunted us for nourishment. They had hunted and tortured us for fun. Now that we solely lay there, weak, defenseless, close to dying, we weren't interesting anymore.

They simply left.

I whimpered in pain as Eddie let go of me, both of us still lying on our sides and facing each other. "I- I know, Sweetheart," he croaked, coughing up blood.

"Where's Dustin?" I asked, and he smiled weakly.

"Safe. Made sure he had to stay on the other side."

I sighed, looking at Eddie's face, tears running down my cheeks and burning in my facial wounds. He began crying as well, his hand full of rings, brushing hair out of my face.

A louder groan escaped me as my rips began filling with deep-seated pain. The adrenaline was leaving me like it had left Eddie earlier.

This was it. This was how we were going to die.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I- This is my fault."

"It's not," he whispered back. "Protect the kids, remember?"

Pulling a pained grimace, Eddie nodded, letting out an agonized grunting noise as he cursed under his breath. "Fuck."

I whimpered the only thing I could think of, "I don't wanna die."

We were still kids; our lives hadn't even fully begun. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that we had to pay the ultimate price, although we'd never done anything to deserve this.

I wanted to graduate, go to college, experience love, get married, and have a family of my own... But I was going to bleed out in the Upside Down.

There was no happy ending this time.

Eddie seemed so angry and scared, cradling my face in his hands. As he assured himself I was looking into his eyes, he said, "I love you."

A shockwave of butterflies erupted in my chest as he continued, "I loved you ever since you shared your lunch with me when I was ten because mom didn't care enough to make me one. I- I started driving the same way home as you after that, although it took me twice as long, but I never had the courage to talk to you."

"I love you too," I cried happily, one hand rising to his cheek and the other to his softly beating heart. I had so long dreamed of hearing and saying these words.

He clenched his jaw, "I should've said something earlier, but every time I got the chance to be alone with you, I got scared and ran. I never would've thought you'd feel the same."

"I wish I would've gone with you when you asked me to leave the party with you," I told him.

Edie shook his head a little, "I should've asked you out properly. I'm sorry I never did, but- but I didn't run away this time."

I started becoming cold, unnaturally cold, and my eyes became heavy. "Eddie... hurts," I whimpered. We both knew that we ran on borrowed time.

"I know, Sweetheart," he assured me, pulling me close to his chest, his forehead resting against mine.

Is heart became weaker, and all the happiness left my body. We would not get to be together. We would die before we could graduate, go on our first date, or even have our first kiss.

"I wish I could've made you happy," Eddie cried, pulling me the tiniest bit closer and pressing his lips on mine.

Everything hurt as he did, it pained him as well, but it was a kiss, so soft, so sweet, so innocent. It was like a false promise that the stars could still start favoring us.

"I wish we would've had more time," I whispered against his lips, and Eddie rested his forehead against mine again.

"I'm glad you are the last thing I'll get to see," I smiled sadly.

He chuckled, clinging to his last moments, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Eddie Munson."

Breathing became hard, and as the light left Eddie's eyes and the heart under my fingertips stopped beating, I closed my eyes and let go as well...

We loved each other, we would've been perfect, but the stars simply didn't favor us.

•

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things s4 #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things angst

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cursestothemoon · 4 years ago

Note

hellooooo<3 so, ive always loved the idea of Harry having an older protective sister(he really need one😭) could u pls do a headcanon of how she protects harry and their relationship? annnnddd how she also is dating Fred?? my heart needs it, pls and thank u❤️

i LOVE THIS

(also i switch from third person pov to second person in the middle of this so im sorry :) but its fine )

i know a common headcanon/ fancanon for harry’s sister is that she looks like lily

but hear me out

Y/n Potter who looks exactly like James

i mean to the T

and Lily would always make little teasing comments about how both her kids look like their dad and james is just :)

anyway

just picture it

dark brown, wavy hair that was just tussled enough at all times

blue eyes

and the round rimmed glasses that James used to wear

stOP SHE WEARS HER DADS GLASSES BECAUSE WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE SHE’D PULL THEM OFF OF HIM AND AFTER HE DID SHE KEPT THEM AND WHEN SHE MISSES HIM SHE WEARS THEM AND THEY ARE SLIGHTLY TOO BIG AND SIT CROOKED ON HER FACE

i made myself cry

anyway

lets talk protecting harry first then we will get into dating fred

so she’s older meaning she’d be in Hogwarts for before him

let’s say she's two years older

George and Fred’s year

and she’d hear the whispers about her

obviously

and i think she wouldn't tell harry

she would know the story of how their parents died and who harry was to the wizarding community but in an effort to protect Harry’s innocence and childhood for just a little while longer she wouldn’t tell him

at least not until he got to school then she’d be the one to tell him everything

she is fiercely protective of Harry

if someone so much as looked at him funny she was chewing their head off

Harry might’ve been like James

but Y/n Potter is James

down to the way her eyes would narrow at someone in class when they made a rude comment

or she’d try to charm her way out of trouble

or charm Harry out of trouble

oH MY GOD SHE’D BE IN MCGONAGALL’S CLASS AND ONE OF HER FRIENDS WOULD SAY SOMETHING FUNNY AND SHE’D BE TRYING SO HARD TO HOLD IN HER LAUGH AND SHE’D MAKE THE SAME FACE JAMES WOULD MAKE WHEN TRYING NOT TO LAUGH

Mcgonagall almost cried

she needed a moment

ok Y/n would take the first week or so just to show Harry around Hogwarts

she did not care if she was late

Harry was going to feel comfortable

oH SHE NEARLY BEAT OLIVER WOOD WITH A BEATER’S BAT WHEN SHE FOUND OUT HE PUT HER TEENY LITTLE BROTHER ON THE QUIDDITCH TEAM AS A SEEKER

she is also part of the team, a chaser

will get spend most of the first few games with Harry making sure he’s ok

yeah malfoy doesn’t stand a chance

never did

10/10 would use the cloak to prank him

all the time

nothing is out of limits

especially after he’s been nasty to Harry and his friends

growing up harry gets all embarrassed when she protects him because hes 15!1!1! he can handle it

she is kinda hurt

very dramatic

“mY WITTLE BROTHER DOESN’T NEED ME”

“y/n... please”

“nO ITS OK HARRY I GET IT, ILL GO”

“where are you going?”

“YOU DON’T NEED ME ANYMORE, I AM NO LONGER NEEDED HERE”

“you don't HAVE TO LEAVE, WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS”

Ron was giggling on the couch in the common room he thought this whole scene was hilarious

ron thinks she is so cool

ok i think she’d also have these little bits of lily that would shine through

unlike harry and james, who could just inhale near a book and get just above average grades

she took pride in studying and being able to sit down and absorb material

Lily always passed with flying colors because she was a good student who wanted to prove herself

it was the satisfaction of spending hours studying and being able to retain the information and apply it to earn an amazing grade that she loved

she passed this on to you

as well as her kindness to people who she believed deserved it

and quick wit

you two also had the same hands

you had everything else from James but your hands looked like your mothers

down to the way your nails grew and fingers held a quill

snape hated it

because he really couldn’t hate you

he was weird around you though

hes just weird

where he'd bully and embarrass Harry

he couldn’t do that to you because you wouldn’t give him the chance to

you knew the material

you knew the answer

and he hated how when your hand shot up it looked just like Lily’s

but you were making the stupid face James would when he’d concentrate

you did not like snape

at first you were impartial

then when you heard how rude he was to Harry...

it was also over for him

he didn’t stand a chance

you had an affinity for pranks, fiercely protective, and you had gall

your hand writing also looked like Lilys and snape had a rough time grading your essays

tough for him

also if any rumors went around about harry you were quick to make them actually about you

harry is the heir of slytherin?

actually no Y/n Potter is, there is no evidence but we just heard that it was her somewhere

you didn’t care as long as no one was being rude to Harry

leTS TALK DEATHLY HALLOWS

so you don’t go with them on the hunt for Horcrux

and you’d be going insane not knowing how they were or if they were ok

because all your life you had been able to protect to some extent

but you were completely helpless now

you could do nothing

and then at the battle of hogwarts

pLEASE

no one stood a chance

the feeling of seeing harry again

beaten, bruised, but still alive

it was overwhelming

then seeing Hagrid crying in his seemingly dead body

also overwhelming

because you had failed

you couldn't protect him

and he heard you scream first

it was loud and strangled and Harry felt so bad but he knew he had to do this

I like to think Y/n Potter is the one who killed Voldemort in the end

you cant argue with me on this sorry

now

lets talk

dating freddie

so he’d probably notice you here and there starting in first year

but he was an eleven year old boy and girls were not on his radar right now

but he thought you were funny and pretty cool

and your round glasses that were just a little too big for your adolescent face made you look cute

then you tried out for the quidditch team with him and George

you were amazing

not only did you have James natural talent for the sport but that paired with Lily’s tactical thinking and quick mind

you were unstoppable

you were brought on the team as a seeker

and you were good at it too, but it wasn’t you’re favorite position

it entailed a lot of waiting and not really moving until you caught sight of the snitch

it was your excellent flying mixed with the fact that you literally had no sense of self preservation that made you a really good seeker

you'd just

nose dive

if you hit the bottom you hit the bottom oh well

but when Harry showed up you were happy to give him your position as seeker and take on the more exciting (at least to you) job of chaser

it was your quidditch playing that really got fred’s attention

because you were good

and during team lunches or team hang outs you were always the life of the party

not because you were avidly trying to be

but like james, people jus gravitated to your goofiness and happiness

it was about the middle of fifth year fred realized he had a crush on you

and little man was panicked

you had noticed fred before that

obviously

but he was always just the funny guy on the team

but as everyone knows the potter’s have a thing for gingers

and it was when they came to pick you and Harry up from the Dursley's just before the quidditch world cup that you saw how attractive he really was

please its james and lily all over again

kinda

you become the funniest person in the room when he’s around

always smiley

lilypad?

no.

freddie bug

aH STOP PLEASE THAT’S SO CUTE

YOU’D JUST STARE AT HIM WITH A STUPID SMILE

it would get to the point you'd be just blatantly flirting

and fred bluSHES

BECAUSE HE ISN’T USED TO BEING THE ONE ON THE RECEIVING END OF SUCH CLEAR FLIRTING

usually he is the one to pick up girls

he has the charm

likes to make them blush

but yOU CAN JUST LOOK AT HIM WITH A STUPID SMILE AND HES BE ALL GIDDY

he could barely get a compliment in between your flirting

“Morning Freddie bug, looking cute as always.”

George thinks it both hilarious and disgusting

ron just thinks its disgusting

but fred is ultimately the one to make the first move to be more than just friends who flirt when the yule ball comes around

he asks you

“Potter! Potter!”

“yes?”

“You, me, Yule ball....”

and as he’s pantomiming it (ya know like in the movie) he also pantomimes a very heavy make out session then what you could assume would be kisses all over your face

it was now your turn to blush as you agreed to go with him

you guys started dating after that :)

pLEASE ONCE HARRY GOT WITH GINNY AND HE SAW A PICTURE OF YOUR PARENTS

YOUR MOM BEING A RED HEAD AND YOU AND HARRY LOOKING JUST LIKE YOUR DAD

HE WOULD NOT STOP THE JOKES

“i see why you’re with me. it’s my hair isnt it?”

“what? no its no-”

“you probably wouldn’t even look my way if i didn’t have red hair. you potters are unbelievable.”

“you are such a dummy”

“oH AM I? BUT YOU KEEP ME AROUND BECAUSE OF THE HAIR. I SHOULD’VE KNOWN IT WASN’T MY SPARKLING PERSONALITY THAT YOU LOVE.”

taglist:

@amourtentiaa

@siriusement

#Harry Potter #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x potter!reader #harry potter x sister!reader #harry potter imagine

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holykillercake · 4 years ago

Text

Tap Dancer Fish

word count: 1.5k

summary: Zoro´s haramaki is falling apart and he can´t find another one to buy. You decide to crochet him one before he kills someone.

highlight: ¨You must be tired... stupid marimo.¨

notes: This was an anon request for a fluff where they have a s/o that made them a thing with crochet and how they would react. This is 1/3 of the request, we´re starting with Zoro <3

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Any luck?¨ you asked without taking your eyes from the city guide, even with the rowdy sound of the metal chair scratching the brick sidewalk.

¨No.¨

¨Need any help?¨ you tried to hide your smirk by sipping your coffee.

¨No.¨

¨Well,¨ you closed the map and placed it on the table ¨I still have some errands to run. I´ll take a look around, see if I can find it. ¨

¨Thank you.¨

You placed a hand on his chest and gave him a quick peck on the lips before making your way back to your tasks.

The Strawhats had docked on a Spring Island called Gardenia. It reminded you of Dressrosa, but without the talking toys and mad king. The houses and stores were all painted a shade of green or brown, but what made it extraordinary to the eyes - and nose - was the number of flowers. All kinds of all sizes and colors decorating everything around you.

However, while you felt like an enchanted character from a fairy tale, your boyfriend felt trapped in a nightmare. For starters, everything smelled like flowers; Sanji would not stop bumping into him, saying that he mistook him for a moss tree, and the flowers made every corner look the same, so he got lost all the time.

But what was really making him grumpier than usual was his haramaki, the green garment he wore religiously around his belly - well, not religiously.

He has been procrastinating to get a new one for a long time, and despite you offering to purchase it whenever you ran errands, he would always turn the offer down. The problem was that it was not keeping itself anymore. After all the battles he fought and opponents he defeated, his haramaki was falling into pieces.

In the beginning, you were able to patch it up with some simple sewing, but now he needed to get a new one. And here´s where problem number two arises, you have entered a chain of summer and spring islands where they don´t usually sell this stuff. As a result, Zoro was mad at everyone - you were an exception, though.

It pained you to see him bothered like this, despite all of your previous warnings. Everyone has their own thing, Luffy has the straw hat, Chopper always carries his blue backpack, Sanji never stops smoking, and Zoro wears his haramaki. Anyone would be bothered, although anyone would listen to your advice.

So you came up with a plan. Since you could not find one to buy, you were going to crochet one. That was an interesting fact that no one knew so far, your ability of crocheting. You would do it whenever you were in charge of the night watch, and when you presented someone with a piece of clothing that matched their personality or traits, you would say you found it in town. Reason being that you didn´t want to be swamped with sweaters and beanies to do. You knew the crew would go crazy if they didn´t have to pay for winter clothes anymore.

¨Yosh, now I just have to make it.¨ you looked at the green ball of yarn in your hands before hiding it at the bottom of your bags.

¨Oi, Luffy! Don´t steal her food!¨

¨But she´s not even eating it, Sanji!¨

¨Y/N, are you ok?¨

¨Y/N?¨

¨Y/N!¨ you almost fell off the chair when you woke up from your zombie state.

¨What?¨

¨You look tired. Are you getting sick?¨ Robin asked, placing a hand on your forehead. ¨I hope you didn´t get some deadly poison from a plant.¨

¨Oi, Robin! Don´t say these scary things!¨ Usopp cried and walked away from you.

¨I couldn´t sleep last night.¨ the girls stared at you with a malicious smirk, and Sanji stormed out on flames ¨Yeah, uhum, I wish! I couldn´t sleep because Zoro kept rolling on the bed, it felt like I was sharing a bed with a tap dancer fish!¨ you shouted grumpily.

The longer he stayed without a decent haramaki, the more jittery he got. So throughout the night, he rolled on the bed, got up to train, went back to bed because he was too frustrated to train, mumbled and grumbled, and made you go through his insanity with him. At some point, you were planning on throwing him off the ship or choke him with that stupid belly warmer.

After you finished your third cup of coffee, you decided to head to the deck. Your green-haired tap dancer fish was napping on the grass with furrowed brows and arms crossed. Suddenly, the irritation you felt was gone.

¨You must be tired... stupid marimo.¨ you whispered and made your way to your room.

He never bothered you before. Even when the other guys made him go crazy, he would always lay down, hold you close to his body, and sleep. On the days you were not so tired, pillow talks would last hours and hours, and he would tell you things he hasn´t told anyone; he would show interest in the stupid things you like and be the Zoro the other guys would never get to know.

So you fought your will to go to sleep and grabbed the wool and a hook, determined to put an end to both of your miseries as soon as possible.

With Zoro napping all day, Robin in charge of the ship, and the rest of the guys exploring the Island, you would have all the peace in the world to work.

And that was exactly what you did. You were definitely going to hear from Chopper for going the entire day without a sip of water or bathroom break. Your fingers were red and hurting, and your shoulders were stiff and sore. But it was worth it.

It was almost dark when you finished, part of you wanted to wrap it with laces or some sort of crap, but you passed out as soon as you heard the snap of the scissor cutting the yarn. You didn´t even know you had passed out until you woke up the next day, sunlight hitting your eyes.

You were alone in bed, but not the way you imagined. You expected cramps and spasms to take over your body, but all you got was a slight soreness. You were in your pajamas and tucked like a baby.

¨What the-¨ you sat and searched over the blanket looking for the crochet garment, but found no sign of it ¨Did I dream about that?¨

You threw yourself off the bed and marched - more like crawled - to the kitchen, craving for coffee.

¨Morning, Y/N!¨ everyone was already up, although Luffy was sleep eating again.

¨Morning, guys.¨ your voice came out sleepy. You grabbed a cup of coffee and sat beside Zoro ¨Good morning, you.¨ You smiled.

¨Morning, sleepyhead.¨ He kissed your temple.

¨I´m so happy you found it, Y/N. I don´t think we would be able to handle his mood anymore.¨ Nami said relieved, and Zoro yelled something when everyone agreed. You gave her a confused look, and she pointed at your boyfriend.

Your eyes scanned him, oblivious for a moment, but when you noticed him wearing the haramaki you made, a big smile grew on your face. That also explains why you slept comfortably in your pajamas, he must have gone to check on you and saw your pitiful state alongside his present.

¨Yeah, I was lucky, I guess.¨ He held your hand tighter under the table.

After breakfast, the two of you decided to stay on deck, enjoying the gentle sun and the fresh breeze before it was time to set sail again. You were sitting between his legs, against his chest, and his hands rested on your lap while you played with each other´s fingers.

¨Thank you... for making it for me.¨ You forgot about sore muscles. You forgot about raw fingers. Listen to him sounding so relaxed and peaceful made you forget about everything.

¨Thanks for not telling the guys I made it. Besides that, how are you going to protect my ass if you can´t focus without this stupid belly wrap?¨ he let out a lazy laugh, and you felt his body vibrating against yours.

¨Well, thank you again. I really liked it, and I won´t ruin it.¨

¨I know.¨ you whispered, closing your eyes and seizing the moment.

You knew he would eventually destroy it, but that was fine. You didn´t have the emotional connection to it like he had. What mattered to you was his well-being. You were not strong enough to protect him - not that he needed - so keeping him warm and loved was your internal mission. Because that´s how he made you feel.

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Ignorant | Steve Rogers

Wow I was really going through it with this one, huh? I think I listened to Bring Me To Life by Evanescence for the entire two hours it took to write this. I never write this fast-- I'm really going through it LOL! I hope you enjoy lovelies! It's the first Steve fic for Dinner at DIzzy's!

Appetizers (Tags): Angst

Entres (Pairing): Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader (Third Person)

Sides (Prompts): 3: “Apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, and don’t play well with others.”

Notes: This has a ton of swearing, Requested by Anon

Word Count: 1.8k

Dinner at Dizzy’s Master List

“Just because you’re the leader here doesn’t mean you have the right to be an asshole, Steve!” Y/n hisses at the man, fists balled at her side.

She’s not going to swing. She would never swing on him— at least she doesn’t think she would— but right now she’s so damn close. All day he’s been pushing her around, yelling at her for the slightest trip ups. Yelling at all of them. She understands that being fugitives isn’t easy but holy shit can the man chill out for five minutes? She fell asleep in the backseat of the car for five fucking minutes! Certainly that doesn’t warrant the hour tongue lashing she just got. It does, however, warrant her retaliation.

He takes a step towards her, face twisted in a snarl unlike anything she’s ever seen before. “Watch your language!”

She doesn’t back down— she’s not scared of him. “Don’t fucking yell at me then! Stop being a dick!”

She doesn’t feel bad for the insult or the way he flinches, his eyes darkening immensely. She had tried to politely ask him for space thirty minutes ago and he didn’t give her any. If he gets to blow off steam or whatever the fuck he’s doing than so will she.

“I’ll stop being a dick when you get some common sense!”

Steve’s raising his own voice now, getting right in her face, and she only pushes forward, her cheeks filling with heat and her stomach clenching painfully. The audacity of this man is incredible. His usual light eyes are a deep navy color now, almost black from his blown pupils. He looks crazy— she doesn’t doubt that she does as well. She would bet money that she looks insane.

“I fell asleep for five fucking minutes and Sam was right fucking next to me! What the fuck is your problem?” She’s doing it on purpose now— if he doesn’t want her to swear then that’s all she’s going to do.

Maybe it’s the triple F-bomb that has the sound of feet pounding against concrete echoing through their shoddy apartment. Maybe it’s just the yelling in general. Either way it’s a good thing that Natsaha and Sam come sprinting in from the other room of the two room complex because if they hadn’t then she’s sure her fist would be cracking against the jaw of Captain Douchebag right now.

“Woah, woah, woah— what the hell’s going on in here?” Sam is quick to get in the middle of them, pushing the super soldier to one end of the room while Nat yanks on y/n’s hoodie. “We could hear you idiots from the stairwell.”

Y/n struggles against Nat for a moment, vision tinted red at the edges. From across the room Steve glares at her, seething. She can practically feel the hatred pouring off of him. It stings at her chest, biting into her veins. He would have kept yelling at her if they hadn’t stopped him, she just knows it. She wishes he would so she could scream back— her stomach and muscles are still tight and she’s aching to lay into him some more. She barely even started and now she feels like she’s about to bubble over.

“Seriously—” Nat tugs again and y/n stops fighting, opting instead to glower at the blonde from across the room— “What’s gotten into you two? You’re supposed to be the responsible ones!”

Steve tears his arm from Sam’s hold but doesn’t clear the space between them. “Why don’t you ask y/n—” he tilts his head, sneering again— “What was it you said ten minutes ago? Oh yeah— apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, and don’t play well with others.”

Why that little fucking— “Don’t put fucking words in my mouth!”

She storms past Natasha, dodging her arm as it flies out— you’re not the only trained markswoman here Nat. Steve does the same, bowling past Sam easily to meet her in the middle of the room.

“Why not? It’s what you meant right?” He’s in her face again, breath hot on her face, and she only retaliates by fuming right back.

She feels like a dragon facing down her enemy— she’s ready to burn the entire building down if it means lowering him a peg or five.

“Actually it wasn’t but now it is you narcissistic dick.”

She can feel Natasha start to pull on her hoodie again but she’s not done— not now. Not when she’s just gotten started.

“You just can’t handle hearing the truth y/n— you can’t handle it when I tell you what you did was wrong. That you could have gotten us fucking killed with your ignorance—”

Her veins flood with fire, her lips curling into a painful scowl. In that moment everything turns slow, her heartbeat a dull thump, thump, thump in her ears, drowning out the rest of his sentence. The only thing that gives away that he’s still speaking is his mouth moving, his teeth bared and ready to be knocked out.

Oh so she’s ignorant now is she? Yeah well fuck you Rogers!

This time the only thing that stops her fist from slamming into Steve’s jaw is Sam catching it mid air, her knuckles slapping off his palm and bringing the sounds in the room rushing back to her at full force. She stumbles back with the impact but the soldier catches her, steadying her on her feet with a worried look in his soft brown eyes. It feels like she’s been underwater for days, her ears popping painfully as she gasps for breath.

“—s enough Steve!” When y/n blinks Nat is shoving her palm against the super soldier’s chest. “You need to back the hell off!”

She doesn’t realize until her eyelashes stick to her cheeks that they’re wet. That she’s crying. The sobs catch up to her when it registers, wracking through her with a force strong enough to have her whole body shaking. Sam is the first to notice, reaching out for her but she backs away, shaking her head. The room falls silent, three pairs of eyes now trained on her but she’s only looking at one pair of wide blue ones. Steve’s chest is heaving up and down, a cross between a feral and a confused look slathered across his features.

The look ignites the last of the dying spark inside her, her hand landing against her chest, wrapping around the dog tags hanging off her neck and yanking until she hears a snap. She waits for the chain to pool in her hands before she whips the metal across the room, hitting him square in the chest with a roar that’s more animal than human tearing from her throat— you wanted flames and now you’re going to get them.

“I’m ignorant? Me? Did you ever stop to ask yourself why the fuck I fell asleep today?” She slips her hands into her hair, tugging so hard on the roots that her scalp feels like it’s burning. “How about because last night you came back from scouting three hours late and looking like you got mauled by a fucking bear? And I asked you what happened and you wouldn't tell me a goddamn thing! You— Mister fucking super serum whatever the fuck! You just went to bed and I spent the rest of the night listening to you gasp for air! Not knowing if the shit was even working or if I was going to wake up to you gone! I—”

Her voice cracks and she curses, scraping her wrist across her face to wipe away some of the hot tears pooling down her cheeks. They feel like trails of lava melting her skin as they rush over her jaw and drip onto the floor. Steve’s face has morphed completely during the span of her rant, his mouth falling open, lips no longer busted open like they had been last night but still horrifying to look at right now. She knows he wants to say something— maybe he even wants to apologize— but there’s no fucking way she’s letting him. She’s not finished yet.

“I spent all night wondering if I was going to lose you! That I would wake up and have nothing! You’re my everything and I thought you were going to die and you wouldn’t tell me anything. So yeah, I guess I’m ignorant! Fuck you too.”

Her throat is raw by the time she’s done spitting the words at him, her head fuzzy from a lack of oxygen and her waning rage. It’s giving way too quickly to sadness— to the agonizing kind of heartbreak that has all her organs seemingly shutting down. Her face is sticky and itchy and she needs to get away from him right now.

She turns to meet the stunned faces of Sam and Nat, swallowing hard and wincing at the way her esophagus stings. She’s not going to have a voice at all tomorrow— or for the next week at this rate. Sam’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head from how wide they are, his mouth open but— like Steve— no words are coming out. She flicks her eyes to Nat who, thankfully, springs into action, nodding her head to the door, the question clear in her eyes— want to get the fuck out of here? Y/n doesn’t answer, she just starts walking.

It’s in that moment that Steve snaps out of his stupor, racing to catch her at the door, warm hand curling gently around her wrist. She doesn’t even give herself a second to enjoy it— to fall into his touch and forget the agony in her chest— before she’s ripping her arm away from him, cradling it against her chest and backing away from him.

“Baby I—” His face is tight, his light brows creasing the middle of his forehead.

She can see it— the regret. It carves across his face, tugging his lips into a frown and making his eyes glass over. Her chest squeezes at the sight, her own eyes coating with a fresh sheen of tears. She wants to wrap her arms around him— to tell him that she forgives him and that she loves him and that she’s scared— but he did this not her and before she knows it she’s taking another step back, shoulder bumping into Nat’s as she shakes her head.

“I’m sleeping with Nat tonight. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Night, Steve.”

Steve’s face falls, the first of his tears pooling down his now angelic face, and as she hesitates. Maybe she should— she feels a tug on her hand, glancing down to where Natasha’s slender fingers wrap around her forearm. She doesn’t have the strength to fight her comrade as she pulls her past the door frame.

As the super soldier falls from her line of sight all she can hear is Sam’s exhausted voice—

“Let her go, man.”

—and she breaks.

#Steve Rogers #Captain America #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x reader #captain america x y/n #nomad!steve #nomad!steve angst #steve rogers angst #captain america angst #nomad!steve x reader #nomad!steve x y/n #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #captain america fic #captain america imagine #mcu fic #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

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bukojuiice · 4 years ago

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rose-colored boy

ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x fem! reader)

ೃ tags: college/modern au, fluff, humor, love at first sight cliché, mikasa is your cute little sister, armin, sasha, jean, and connie are your besties, and eren is a himbo who works hard and has terrible friends.

ೃ warnings: strong language and mild suggestive content

ೃ part 1/??? of my (eren x reader) college au!

ೃ word count: 3000 words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist

ೃ This is my very first snk x reader fic! so i hope you bear with some errors! qwq

i’ve been following the anime ever since it was released in 2013, and this is the first time i’m going to be writing for it. this month’s manga chapter really took me out so why not channel my sadness thru writing an fluff! eren fic? 🤧 i hope you enjoy either way!

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ in which (Y/N) (L/N), 20, still in school, and regretfully-unregretfully-her little girl scout sister's assistant, meets eren jaeger in an embarrassing too innocent door-to-door cookie sale whilst a humiliating party was going on.

cookies, suspicious maybe-maybe-not pot brownies, meddling little sisters and friends, “oh my god they were roommates” vine on replay 24/7, homework, tears, and fairy lights bring them together.

“I’m going to enter now.”

“Ahhh yes, please!”

“Shut up, please.” Eren muttered to himself as he tossed and turned around in his bed, but still couldn’t get to sleep. “When will they ever stop doing this?” Why did Eren’s next-door roommate and his girlfriend have to do this five times a day? They had a lot of stamina for 21-year-olds who didn’t have anything better to do.

Eren’s thoughts eventually brought him to his parents.

His parents- did they even exist?

For pretty much 14 years of Eren’s life, they had been out of town or out of the country. His older brother, Zeke, blonde, bespectacled, tall, and sometimes too far up his own ass older brother who Eren is able to confide in from time to time, recently got a girlfriend whom he’s hopelessly in love with (they’re even thinking about getting married which isn’t really a problem since the girl is genuinely nice to his older brother so Eren is good with her.), so… things in the family had been a bit rough and busy to say the least.

Communication with his parents wasn’t always the best.

Eren would study late at night back when he was seven, because no one bothered to help him with homework. Along with the fact that he wasn’t the brightest kid in class, and he knew that very well, but he had ambition and he was determined to make it big in the world. He focused more on sports, particularly Soccer in middle school and high school, and tried to balance that with his studies. After being granted a Sports Scholarship from Shigashina University, Eren decided to rent and share a flat, living with his batchmates who he met at a mixer party (before Uni started as this whole meet and get to know each other kind of thing) and whom he was so quick to call his ‘friends’, just so that he could get out of the hellhole that was his own house.

But things turned out much worse than expected.

Eren thought that the ‘College Life’ was to focus more on pursuing your future career and make a name for yourself but… it was the other way around.

He thought that after Freshmen year, everyone would take things seriously. Sure, have some drinks, get wasted after finals, or have house parties from time to time. But he was unfortunately, dragged into the wrong crowd. After attending around 5 parties in the first few months of being generalized as one of the infamous and pompous freshman archetypes present in every university, he called it a year and spent the rest of his nights doing homework, projects, playing video games, staying at the school soccer field until 10PM while his roommates were probably smoking crack and not caring about the number of units they needed to take for each of their goddamn subjects.

He was ~living the life~ and now that he regrets most of the decisions he made in freshman year, the only option that he has left was to wait until his third year and move to a different apartment.

Now, here he was, Sophomore year, nearing the end of the semester, and very much eager to get the hell out of here and also study for his upcoming finals on Constitutional Law II, as his professor, Mr. Erwin Smith, was going to throw hands if one of his students score below average on the exam.

“EREN MICK JAEGER! BROOOO!” Eren winces when he hears the shrieky and annoying voice of his flatmate Thomas Wagner, calling out to him. “Wanna go and party with us?” Eren smiles halfheartedly, shaking his head, “Ah, no thanks. I have a game tomorrow and finals coming up on Thursday.” Thomas smirked and wrapped his arm around Eren, “Oh fuck that, live the college life ya spoon.”

“No, really I have to study.”

Thomas frowned and groaned, “Oh god, you’re such a killjoy. Fine, if that’s what you want. Don’t blame us if we tell you to buy some beer down the block.”

Eren cracked an obviously fake laugh and pushed Thomas away from him, “You’re an ass. That only happened once and that was when we first met. Don’t you even dare try to ask me to buy you shit again.”

“Woah. Woah. Woaaaaaah. That was a joke Eren. Loosen up will you?” Thomas raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the brunette’s sudden aggressiveness. He hums Moves like Jaeger by Maroon 5 as a way to spite Eren whilst passing by him down the staircase.

The brunette shook his head, tying his hair into a bun carelessly and sprinting into his room without uttering another word.

Eren just wanted to study. He really did.

Instead, his roommates, all of them, mind you, were all partying in the lounge and the music was too loud and Eren was too annoyed.

They did manage to bring him out and make him stay in the kitchen where he mindlessly glared at anyone who came in. He sighed and tapped his pen restlessly amongst the insane amount of books on the table.

There was a knock.

His roommate, Floch, came in the kitchen with his girlfriend who Eren couldn’t even name with all the women he has brought into the apartment. She was hanging onto his arm and giggling. Floch’s eyes were red and his speech very slow and lazy. "Eren!" he said with a sly grin.

Eren raised an eyebrow, shooting him an irritated look. "What now Floch? Are you here to tell me to take a shot again?" The ginger-haired’s girlfriend giggled once again and kissed Floch’s cheek. Floch laughed and swatted her away, though he missed by a long shot. "Someone's at the door," a thumb pointing to the den. "wouldchumind ge'in it?" another giggle. The girl nodded sloshily. "Yesss! Erenieee get 'em door, please. Be a dearrrrr."

Eren frowned and stared at them menacingly, earning no reaction from the two as they were mad drunk. "You were just in the den," Floch’s eyes widened. "My lovey wovey-we was in the den?" His girlfriend’s mouth went into an O. "Di'nt notice tha'!"

Eren sighed and stood up. He miraculously got through the throng of bodies and to the front door. "Yes?" he called out exasperated, not knowing who was outside.

"Do you want cookies?"

Eren turned and looked to see a little raven-haired girl, a girl scout no less, a blonde-haired boy pulling on a trolley who looked significantly shorter than him, wearing rimmed glasses, and an overall appearance whom his “friends” would immediately label as a nerd they had to be a few feet away from if they saw him and lastly, a girl who looked very tired and very done with life.

Beautiful (h/c)-colored hair, her eyes looked like the starry night sky, twinkling as he catches her gaze and a smile that looked forced, but warm all the same.

A girl who was just absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Eren was captivated. His heart was beating like crazy and he could feel his ears turn red. He would make a fool of himself if he looked red as a tomato right now.

"Um," The girl peeked inside and grimaced, squeezing the hand that was her little sister's shoulder and catching Eren’s gaze. "Mikasa, I don't think these kinds of guys would want cookies."

“Unless they're pot cookies,” Eren almost said. Mikasa pouted and widened her eyes at Eren.

The older girl crouched down and frantically covered her little sister’s eyes. "Nopenopenope, Mi, don't pull that on him."

"But (Y/N)!"

(Y/N).

Her name was (Y/N).

Eren smiled sincerely (for the first time today) and leaned back inside to the drawer by the door to grab the extra cash he and his roommates put there for emergency pizza and stuff. "You know what? You're absolutely brilliant at selling cookies. I'll take one."

Mikasa smiled back at him cheekily and tugged her older sister’s hand. "See, (Y/N)?! He wants some! Go get 'em!”

The raven-haired girl then turned to the blonde teen, practically jumping up and down. “Armin look! We sold another one!"

“We did!” The boy who was apparently named Armin, clapped his hands together, then gave the little girl a high five. “You’re a natural at this Mikasa!”

(Y/N) looked at Eren, then Mikasa, and sighed. She grabbed a bag from the trolley Armin was dragging around and pulled out a box of cookies. Eren grabbed them slowly from her, their hands almost touching as he gave (Y/N) a small smile. The (h/c) girl blushed lightly, though not visible enough for the brunette to notice.

"Hope to see you again!" Eren called out when the siblings said their thank you's and bid farewell.

And, this time, even for the slightest moment, Eren’s serotonin levels were going straight through the roof. His heart was still beating loudly, almost in sync with the trash music his roommates were blaring on the speakers. and for a moment, even just for a moment.

He felt genuine happiness that he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

The three of you continue to walk animatedly, now that the coast was clear and the guy from earlier wasn’t within earshot, your blonde friend just had to break the silence.

Armin smiles, pushing his glasses up to the crook of his nose. “(Y/N), you did see how he looked at you right?” The blonde chuckles softly, catching his best friend off guard.

You blinked. “Him?” You try to stop yourself from smiling, blushing profusely. “Geez Armin, I don’t even know his name yet.”

“I’ll bet you 100 bucks that he goes to our Uni.”

“Even if he does, it’s not like we’ll talk to him or anything. Judging from the place he lives in and the people he was hanging out with, we’re in two completely different worlds.” You shook your head in denial, holding Mikasa’s hand, your interlocked arms swinging playfully. Armin gives you a knowing look in response.

Mikasa continued to wave back at the boy whom they had just sold cookies too. (Y/N) looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Wasn’t he nice (Y/N)?” Mikasa asks her older sister. (Y/N) returned her sister a small smile, “He was.”

"I hope we see him again!"

"I'm sure we will."

The day of Eren’s dreaded finals finally arrive.

He has prepared tirelessly for this. Hours upon hours of hard work. But, before he finally gets his well-deserved sleep, he has a few more hours to cram and absorb more knowledge for his exams.

So, what better way to do so than head straight to the library as soon as it opens at 6 AM?

This time, no one was going to bother him. No annoying roommates and no distractions.

Eren heads over to a table near the coffee and snack machines. He puts down his bag on a seat next to him, and begins to study once again. Looking through the course materials and the lessons that he still didn’t quite understand. Eren was so absorbed with studying and relying on his gut feeling that no other student in this university would think of going to the library at 6 AM on the day of finals… then he’s wrong. Very wrong.

“Sasha, should you even be eating mashed potato this early in the morning?” Armin asks the brunette worriedly, a huge tone of concern in his voice.

“Armin! Don’t chu worry! I ate heavy breakfast! Bacon, Eggs, and Toast! Did you not see me in the kitchen!?” She reassures her blonde friend, continuing to scoop up the mashed potato on a reusable cup.

“Liar.” Connie hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I was awake since 4 AM. Not once did I see you sneak into the kitchen until (Y/N) woke you up.”

“Atatata. Can we… stop with the negative vibes for a second?” Jean tries to become the mediator by holding his hands up against his two friends who were about to start an argument. “It’s finals week. We have to keep a clear mind, body and soul-“

“Jean, you know that’s BS.” You yawn widely, still practically half-asleep.

“Oh, come on! Can’t you just let me be positive just this once!? If we fail this exam I’m going to blame you!“

The five of you continue to talk mindlessly on the way to the library. Connie pushes the glass door open, very much excited to have this huge library all to yourselves.

Until…

There was someone already there.

Your eyes immediately come into contact with Eren’s. His radiant jade eyes staring into yours, mouth practically agape, his hands holding on to wooden chopsticks as the hot air of instant ramen breezes through his face.

“Oh?” Connie blinks. “Guess we aren’t the first ones here then.” He whistles.

“(Y/N)!” Armin nudges you in the arm in an attempt to tease you. “Guess your wish came true huh? We did see him again! By himself too!”

“W-what am I supposed to do exactly?” You turn to Armin, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“Say thank you to him! Offer him to go on a boba date or something!”

“You got the Sasha seal of approval (Y/N)! He’s hot!” Sasha motions you a thumbs up and you can’t help but feel yourself already wanting to die of embarrassment.

The four of them slightly push you towards his table. With your friends cornering you like this, there was no way of escaping this.

All you had to do was talk to him and properly thank him for buying cookies from your little sister.

That was it.

No need for any extra ad-libs or poor and bad attempts of flirtation.

Just thank him (Y/N).

You can do this.

You breathe a hefty sigh then approach his table with confidence. The brunette continues to look up at you whilst turning the page of his reviewer that he wasn’t even looking at.

“Hi again! I just wanted to thank you properly for helping my sister and I, out the other day. Mikasa really appreciated the gesture you did for her, and she couldn’t stop talking about you to our parents since we saw you. You see, none of the other girl scouts want to be paired up with my sister because they think she’s an emotionless and monotonous freak. They’re really mean to her but she really wants to continue being a girl scout so my friend and I accompany her whenever she has to sell cookies!”

“It’s N-no problem!” Eren quickly replies, running a hand through his hair. “Why would they say such horrible things to your sister like that? Judging from the way she acted in front of me, she was quite the opposite. In a positive way of course! Those kids are just assholes who are intimidated because another girl their age is seemingly better than them.”

You giggle in response. “Thank you. I’ll tell Mikasa that you said that!”

There was short silence for a few seconds until you realized that you forgot to say something.

“Ah! I’m (Y/N) (L/N) by the way!”

“Eren.” He smiles, reaching his hand out to you for you to shake. You grip his strong and calloused hand firmly, and Eren could feel his ears turning red again while you were about to blush as red as a tomato.

You hear your friends snickering in the background and you took this as a sign to go back to your table. “I guess, I’ll see you around campus?” You ask, tilting your head. For, you actually really wanted to see him again after this.

“Yea! I’ll be seeing you!” He grins widely, watching you leave where he was seated. His smile then envelops into a frown as soon as you went away then he goes back to studying.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Connie whispers loudly, calling you over by waving his hand. Why was this dunce being so painfully obvious? “Ask him if he’s looking for an apartment or if he wants to live with us!”

“Already!?” You ask in disbelief, a bit shocked by what Connie had just said. He scoots to the left, as you take a seat between him and Sasha. “Guys, you’ve known him for like… 3 minutes. Only Armin and I actually interacted with him before this.”

“He has to pass the vibe check first.” Jean shrugs, sipping on an iced expresso. “But, yeah, he does seem alright from a few feet away.”

“Come on (Y/N)! Ask him!” Sasha nods approvingly. “It’s weird that he’s studying alone like this while we’re in another table trying to remain unaware that he looks lonely as hell.”

“UMmMM… maybe he wants to study alone because that’s the only way he can focus? That’s a thing that normal people do, Sasha.” You remark sarcastically, trying to think up of more reasons to not approach him again.

Armin clears his throat, “Look, (Y/N), it won’t hurt to try right? Besides, don’t you feel a tiny bit sorry for him? He does seem lonely and you do have a crush on him so… more ways to interact with him right?”

Your shoulders slump and you breathe a defeated sigh. “Okay okay fine.” You make your way to Eren’s table again but before you do, you turn to your friends. “By the way, I don’t really have a crush on him just yet. I just find him cute okay?”

“Yeah yeah.” They say in unison as you continue to walk back to the brunette’s table.

“Hi again Eren!” You wave and try your best not to fumble or look painfully obvious that you were infatuated by him. He looks up and you try your best not to smile like a weirdo.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Would you like to come over to our table and study with us?”

To be continued.

#shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren x you #snk #aot

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static-fanatic-1 · 4 years ago

Text

Yandere!All For One x Fem!Reader

Warning: Non-con, Fingering, Kidnapping, Mentioning of stalking, Spooky gift giving, Reader has a powerful healing quirk activated by bodily fluids (it’s important).

Word count: 7.3k

~~~~~

You nervously bit your lip, twiddling your hands and fingers to relive the anxiety creeping up your spine. Recovery Girl, the healing hero that decided to take you under her wing, decided it would be good idea for you to meet a colleague of hers to get some physical training. It was an important thing that you needed to learn despite your quirk.

The slender yet short woman took a weary glance at you. "Calm down (y/n), you have no reason to be nervous."

You jumped at the sound of her voice. "I-I know, what if they don't think I'm worth training though?" You've always been self councious of your quirk. Though it was insanely powerful, mainly for other people, it turned you into a physically sickly person. To simply put it, what you thought was not worth training.

A disappointed sigh left her lips. Recovery girl, still not looking her age as of yet, was a short woman with dark black hair, peppered with more white streaks than her natural color, dressed in a bun with her usual hero look going on. "Gran Torino won't push you too hard, besides he's training Toshinori! You know him right? The third year who's really strong?"

A slight blush tinted your cheeks. "Uh, y-yes ma'am!" God you hated it when you became a stuttering mess, especially when that specific third year was mentioned. Ever since you bumped into him in the halls you couldn't shake away your growing crush. It was totally embarrassing. Even your classmate, Enji Todoroki, lightly made fun of you for it.

Ms. Shuzenji lightly chuckled at your reddened expression. "Gran Torino said he would meet us in one of the gyms after school hours. Since you're a first year and you don't have your provisional license yet, we aren't supposed to train you off of school grounds." She further explained.

"When I get my license will it be alright for me to train off campus? Or could he just take me in for hero studies?"

"Technically you already are under hero studies because I'm training you, and because I'm a teacher I can't allow you to train off school grounds." The two of you turned a corner, now face to face with the large door separating you two from the racket going on on the other side. Both of you exchanged a confused look before opening the doors.

From what you were witnessing, you probably shouldn't have agreed to working with Gran Torino.

The yellow blur flew from floor to ceiling, and wall to wall just to slam his feet into the poor boy's body. Each attack seemed more painful than the last as he desperately tried to keep up with his sensei.

Toshinori paused, as did Gran Torino, and excitedly straightened his stance. With a finger pointing in your general direction his face lit up. "Your that first year I bumped into! Gran Torino you should have told me who-!"

His spat was quickly cut off by a pair of feet slamming against his ribs. The blond flew across the gym and into the concrete walls, dust fuming around his now hunched over form. "Don't get distracted, Toshinori." Torino scolded.

The average height hero turned, now facing the two female across the room. "So this is (l/n)? Nice to meet you." He said with a slight wave.

Recovery girl tapped your shoulder and motioned to the suffering boy, telling you to heal him without using her words. "Pl-pleasure to meet you too, sir." Quickly nodding in both of the hero's directions, you scurried over to the third year you unfortunately developed a crush over.

"Um, Toshinori Senpai, are you hurt?" 'What am I saying? Of course he's hurt!' Your flustered mumbling almost went unnoticed.

"Yeah, yeah, probably broke a rib... again." His blond hair framed his smiling face, the overly joyous expression only bringing you more concern.

"Again?! Here, let me help." You wrapped your arms around his form and lifted him into a seating position, doing your best to keep him upright. "Alright so this might be weird, but, are you okay with kissing me?" You twisted your face in a sad excuse for guilt.

Toshinori found it funny, but unexpected none the less. "K-kiss you?!" His face burst into a deep red blush while his words came out as coughs.

"Y-Yeah! I mean or lick you, whatever floats your boat I don't judge."

Gran Torino wondered over to the youthful hero. "So she's the healer? The one you wanted me to train alongside Toshinori right?"

She nodded and turned to look at her addresser. "Her healing is stronger than mine, and there are no repercussions on the person she uses it with. If the two of them get to know each other they could be an amazing team."

"Healing stronger than yours huh? How does it work?"

"Bodily fluids like blood and saliva." Shuzenji paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. "Her quirk has been used in ways it shouldn't have been used."

Gran Torino furrowed his brows and looked at the two students. Toshinori already looked much better than before. His skin seemed healthier, pained expression replaced with a bright red face, and the blood smeared on his mouth being wiped away like a memory. Still, he soaked in the new information as he watched the students embarrass themselves.

"Does she know about one for all?"

"No, but she's trustworthy enough to tell, eventually at least."

"Alright, alright, I'll train her."

~~~

After a few months of training under Gran Torino and Toshinori, you had grown a little bit stronger. At least as strong as you were able to get. Toshinori on the other hand made a lot more progress, his training also getting far more intense than you will ever be able to handle.

Enji tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to reality. He gave you a disappointed yet concerned look. "You need to focus, I don't want to help you with History again."

"Ah, sorry, sorry." He scoffed and grabbed his stuff to leave the classroom. "Wait for me!" You yelped, quickly stuffing your things in your bag to chasing after him. "Your legs are too long!"

The two of you wondered into the cafeteria and settled in your seats. You shuffled things around in your bag as Enji started to eat, you could feel him watching and judging you. "What?"

He slurped up his hot soba, taking his time before he decided it would be okay to explain his judgement. "You have been training with that third year huh? Yagi, isn't it?"

"O-oh! Um, yeah. Toshinori, he's been helping me get stronger despite my quirk's draw back." You shifted in your seat under his intense glare.

"And?" He pressed on.

"Oh you know, he's helping me learn how to fight and get physically stronger. Nothing too special. Why do you ask?"

A certain blond revealed himself, his bright smile almost blinding as he smacked his tray on the table next to you. "Hey (y/n), Todorok-kun!"

You jumped and covered your reddening face with your hands. "Ah! Hello Toshi-senpai!"

Enji glanced between the two of you, both of you have been rather close lately and the redhead was developing theories that have been plaguing his mind. "That's why I ask." He pointed to your bright red face.

Toshinori almost spat out his water when he glanced at your red face. "Woah! Todoroki-kun, it's nothing like that! Haha!"

"Y-Yeah! We're just training!" You spat out.

Enji just gave you a look, but overall decided against pressing further. Instead he sighed and glared at the third year.

You couldn't blame him though, Toshi was easily considered as strong as the pros, and Enji wanted to be on top of them all. He most likely saw him as competition.

You lightly laughed and tapped Enji's shoulder. "Don't over think it. Besides let's be honest, I need a lot more help than you do." You have the redhead a delicate smile, still he kept his condescending look.

"Don't you have to do chemistry homework you skipped?"

"Oh shit! That's next period!" You yelped and began the homework you skipped last night.

"Geez, I remember chemistry, I really struggled with that one." Toshi exclaimed, leaning back with his cheeks stuffed with pork cutlet and rice. "I can't help you with that one, (y/n)-chan."

"Don't worry, I'm surprisingly good at math and science. It's the other subjects I struggle with." You stuffed your face with your food as you quickly solved the problems on the sheet. "Enji actually helps me with the other ones, I help him with chemistry and maths."

"I don't need your help." Todoroki snapped back.

"Sure." Came out your muffled sarcasm. "Do you want me to check your homework?"

There was a slight pause, Toshinori placing his hand over his mouth to stop his growing laughter.

"Yes."

~~~

That was the beginning of the three of you. Toshi quickly climbed up the ranks as the number one hero. He left for America for a while, but kept in touch with you as you finished school and tried to make a name for yourself.

Enji quickly surpassed you, but he still stayed your dear friend. He found an organization and followed behind Toshi, climbing up the ranks and making a name at the early age of twenty.

They were strong, powerful, and you were everything else. Weak. The only thing you had going for you was your quirk, and even then it was taxing on your body.

You joined a smaller hero agency and continued developing your quirk. With your skill in chemistry you learned you can convert your bodily fluids into pill form. Though they don't work as well, it allows you to give people a full heal without loosing yourself.

Though you never seemed to be as lucky as you hoped. The hero you had come to know and trust abused your kindness, his other sidekicks finding it funny to stuff you full of their cocks and use you as a toy.

You never felt so humiliated and destroyed in your entire life. What started as a simple conversation drastically changed into the hero's using your quirk as an excuse to do as they pleased. They even threatened to ruin your career as a hero if you told anyone... but you just couldn't keep quiet.

That night you drove away, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks as the horrid feeling and taste lingered. You drove all the way to the current number nine's house and knocked on his door at 2:48 am. He lived alone, still focusing on climbing up the ranks to be number one.

Despite not seeing him in months and thinking you were only a distraction, he let you in.

Enji held you close as you sobbed and told him what happened, your words chocking on your cries. He let you clean up and stay for the night, as you didn't feel safe alone anymore. You slept on the couch that night, unbeknownst to you Enji called up Toshinori.

The three of you met up the next day to expose the so called heroes that defiled you. Without Enji and Toshinori, you wouldn't have been able to tell anyone, that or you would never be the hero you've always wanted to be.

You constantly look back on that day. You couldn't help but appreciate what your two friends did for you, especially when you are reminded of them. You would give anything to help them. Anything.

You joined All Might in his quest for heroism, becoming his sidekick and healing people he saved. He loved working with you, and you loved working with him. The spark between the two of you was obvious from the beginning, and as the two of you worked together the spark only grew.

You left for a while though, a well-known hero asking for your help in America. You bought a small apartment and began your own.

~~~

"Wait... what? He-he's...." You voice cracked, hand lightly tracing the bow on the flat triangular box on your bed. Smooth wrapping providing false comfort over the situation over the phone. Gran Torino's gruff, pained voice echoed in your ears and in your brain.

"Toshinori needs your healing, that or I'm afraid it will be the end of the Symbol of Peace." You shivered at his words, turning your back to your bed to sit down. Your hands rubbed your face and eyes from stress, not just from Toshi's conditions but the strange gifts you keep finding in your house. "Recovery girl already stabilized him, but your healing should finish the job."

"I understand, uh, I'll book a ticket-"

"Don't, we already bought a private plane ticket, we don't want the media to get involved." Gran Torino finished, sighing behind the screen. He must be feeling the same things you were feeling; stress and anxiety. Despite the stress he continued, giving the details of the flight he bought.

"Alright, alright. I'll get some pills ready and pack. Take care." He lightly chuckled, probably nodding behind the screen, before ending the call.

You dropped you phone on your bed and sighed. The hand that was tracing the wrapped gift paused over the red satin bow. A sense of dread crawled up your spine making you shiver.

You wanted to throw the thing away and let it rot in your dark closet, but after finally deciding to open the other ones up you decided that wasn't a good idea. Whoever has been sending you the few gifts wanted something you were too afraid to give.

Yesterday you opened the first gift, one with a purple bow and silver wrapping paper, and found a beautiful sun dress with a letter. At first you thought it was a fan, after all it wasn't too strange for you to find fans who gave you gifts like this, so you ignored the red flag of finding it on your temporary apartment door step.

But when you glanced at the letter, your blood froze. Written in fancy cursive, penmanship you could easily call perfect, was an alarming letter about compliments you could dismiss as a little strange. That was the second red flag.

The next few gifts had letters as well, each one more descriptive and alarming than the last. One described how entertaining it was for you to be so close to the number one hero All Might, and how the sender would enjoy taking you from him.

So when you found another gift, this time wrapped in a red bow with dark grey wrapping, you wanted to puke. You debated opening it up to save yourself some sanity and stress, but you were more afraid of the repercussions of not seeing what's inside.

With shaky breaths and an even shakier hand you unveiled the mystery box. You never felt so much dread in your life until you saw what was under the letter.

A gorgeous, obviously expressive set of black lingerie brought bile into your throat. Clasping your hand over your mouth you tried to swollen the nasty mixture as you continued your investigation. The set was lacey in a sultry way, seductive like it was meant for a lover to wear on their honeymoon.

You hated it, you feared it.

Especially the letters, you still didn't know who sent them but that only made you more afraid. So you read it, maybe you would know who was sending you these things, maybe you could get them arrested and save yourself the stress while you go heal Toshi.

'Dear (y/n) (l/n),

I consider myself a patient man, one that will wait until the time is right. I wish for you to wear the gift I have given you, it would greatly please me to see you in it when I come for you. So save yourself the pain-'

You stopped and gagged, crumpling up the carefully written letter and throwing it across the room. Anxious tears streamed down your face as you violently shook.

Their going to come for you? Why? When? Where? Here? No no no, not here. You'll be off back home in Japan, away from this sad apartment and away from the creepy stalker.

You glanced over at the lingerie, should you wear it? What would they do if you didn't wear it? Are they watching you now?

Once more you shivered, this time taking the lingerie and holding it close. You were terrified of the consequences so you decided to wear it. All you had to do now was get some pills ready and pack for the plane ride. So stop stressing.

~~~

You held your bags close, the satchel with your quirk infused pills even closer. Your anxiety was spiking, more so than it has ever before. You wore half of your hero costume, having on the white lab coat, jaw guard, and belts with sleeping syringes you created yourself. Usually you have heels with a dress shirt and pencil skirt, but instead you decided to wear something more comfortable. So you wore grey sweat pants and a black tank top under your white coat.

Grey and white mountains littered the horizon while vibrant greenery and large trees rose high into the sky. You exited the small plane and wondered over to Gran Torino. A solemn expression decorated your features as you met up with the group.

Gran Torino, Sir Nighteye, and Tsukauchi waited for you, Tsu being the only one to smile back. "Hey, Witch Doctor are you ready to head out?" Tsu wore a white dress shirt and black slacks with his favorite brown trench coat over his shoulders.

Gran Torino and Sir Nighteye wore their full hero costumes despite the long ride ahead.

Your smile widened ever so slightly as you nodded. "Please, call me (y/n). And yes, I have the pills if he wants to go that route, it should be more than enough to heal him all the way." You lifted up the satchel and waved it around.

They knew how your quirk worked, bodily fluids. So they understood how people in the past took advantage of that, so they were a little surprised when you mentioned giving All Might a choice. They didn't mention it though. "Could-can you... tell me about Toshi?"

Gran Torino grunted before waking to a few cars nearby. "His stomach was pretty much gutted, he's hanging on a thread thanks to Recovery Girl. He would've died otherwise."

Nighteye looked away with an uncomfortable expression. "If he-he didn't hold on for so long...." He mumbled away without wanting to finish his sentence.

"He'll be fine," Finished Tsukauchi. "He is fine, he just needs some help getting better."

You listened to the policeman, his enthusiasm seemingly forced and full of anxiety. "What happened to him?" You asked again, this time with more force.

They all stayed silent as they continued walking to the cars, so you stopped. "L-listen, I know why it might be hard to talk about, but-but I would like to know. There-there has been some crazy shit happening lately, and you said he was injured a few days ago? It just-just seems too... too coincidental? I guess?"

Tsukauchi turned to you with a worried expression. "Like what? Why haven't you told any of us?"

"I was-it is just-just a stalker but... I'm scared, you know? It started four-five days ago and it just seems too coincidental." You lightly laughed at yourself, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try and calm your riled up nerves. "Never mind, I'm-I'm just stressing out. Maybe...."

Nighteye adjusted his glasses and peered into your soul. "Why would it be coincidental? What else happened?"

"There-there were letters. Letters with information only a few people should know about." Your body curled in on itself. "Some things about Nana, and you guys, and Toshi. Just a bunch of mumbo jumbo that has me scared."

Tsukauchi placed a hand on your shoulder. "Let's talk about this in the car." His delicate smile helped put you at ease, so you nodded and continued. "And if you really are worried maybe Nighteye can look into your future?"

The tall, suit wearing man scoffed as he entered the passengers seat. "I'm not exactly okay with something like that."

"It would help." You meekly said, getting into the car. The men took a nice long look at you, how you shivered and stared with a furrowed brow. It was like you were playing out scenarios of all the bad things that could happen to you. "But I understand-!"

"You look pathetic like that." Nighteye shifted in his seat as Gran Torino started the car. "I'll do for you, but you can't change what will happen. I've tried."

You shyly smiled at him and nodded your head. "That's fine with me, I just want to mentally prepare myself, ya' know?"

"That's a good idea, Witch Doct-I mean (y/n)." Tsu corrected himself and shifted next to you.

"Right, thanks guys." You and Sir looked into each others eyes, a small shiver running up your spine as his left eye turned into a purple-black storm.

All four of you waited as the car sped through the Japanese wilderness. The large green trees provided shade and small rays of sunlight peeking through. The road was long and curved on the side of the mountain you were descending. It was peaceful, calm... too calm.

The thick air was interrupted by a gasp, Nighteye's calculating eyes shifting to the sunroof of the small car. His body was rigid, his face twisted in growing fear. "Stop the car!"

Gran Torino smashed the breaks causing the car to screech and dangerously swerve to a stop. "Whats-?!"

He couldn't finish his sentence before a large, swirling purple mass emerged from nothing before the group. A large hand emerged, a rocky face following behind.

"Get our of the car!" Sir Nighteye screeched, grabbing Gran Torino and pulling him out with him. Tsukauchi dashed out and joined the others against the cliff side.

You unbuckled and reached for the door handle, but you were too late.

The large figure fully emerged and smacked his hand against the car, knocking it off the steep cliff side and into the mass of trees below. You screamed and held your body as close as possible, the car shoving you every which way. Glass shattered, metal crushed against itself, you hit your head so much you could taste the blood in your mouth.

A loud crash echoed through the forest floor, bird and animals fleeing to a far away safety. You coughed, trying to drag your body out the broken window next to you.

Your arm shrieked in pain, it must be broken, you thought. Still you refused to be a sitting duck. You clawed your way out of the car, praying all of your things are in one piece.

Gran Torino appeared in front of you and helped you out before hopping away. The giant from before jumped down beside the car, the ground around him crumbling under his feet. "Everything I do is for my master." The giant chanted his mantra, his eyes glueing to your form with heart stopping ferocity.

Nighteye fell from above and slammed his feet against the giant's head, knocking him off his rhythm.

He grunted and stumbled into a tree, trampling the plant in the process. He took the broken tree and rips it from the ground just to chuck it back at Sir Nighteye.

"Watch out!" You swallowed your blood and spit to heal yourself just enough to get into the fight. You shoved your support mask over the lower half of your face, letting it pierce through your skin so you can drink your blood. "Torino! Make sure Tsukauchi is okay, I'll go for Sir!"

"Get in and get out!" Quickly you two split up.

You dashed over to Sir Nighteye and pulled him from the colliding tree. You drank your blood and building saliva to slowly heal your wounds, your broken arm mending itself enough for you to use it.

The tree burst into splinters. Sir found his footing and pulled you behind another tree. "Are you okay?" He asked, holding you close while looking at the giant behind him.

"Yeah, yeah. What did you see in your vision? We'll get out right?"

Sir Nighteye bit his bottom lip. He didn't know what he should do, tell her and give up or try and fight fate. "That's not important right now." He commented calmly, but internally he was at war.

He saw your future, one where you were taken after everyone else was too hurt to fight back. Gran Torino would jump in to try and save you, Tsukauchi begging for you be set free from the cliff side. Gran Torino would be caught and killed when he tries to save you, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Sir Nighteye almost debated letting you get caught just so the rest of them could get away unharmed.

You glanced at him before pulling the two of you were crushed by the giant. "Focus Sir! We need to group up with Torino and Tsu. This guy is really strong."

"We can't take him on." He blurted out.

"What do mean?" Your voice came out shaky, the giant already on his way to fight you two again. He trudged over and loomed above you and Sir, growling as he swiped Sir Nighteye away. The giant had a hint of a smile of his face when he gripped your form in his iron like grip.

You jolted in his hold and fumbled with your hero costume to pull out the syringes, all of them. Quickly you stabbed the giant's neck and pumped his system with five of your homemade concoctions.

Gran Torino grabbed Nighteye before he slammed against a tree, carefully putting the fading man on the ground. Torino stared up at your thrashing form, but before he could rush up to help you a hand tightly gripped his forearm. "Don't, if you go you'll die!"

Nighteye's grip tightened once he heard Tsukauchi scream from above.

"We can't let them take her, she's the only one that can heal Toshinori!" Gran Torino argued, thrashing away and dashing to save you.

The giant wobbled from the potent amount of drugs in is system, but it didn't stop him. A new purple portal formed in front of the two of you, and a newfound vigor was found in the giant. "Gran Torino!" Your voice echoed with unadulterated terror.

You could see him coming to help you, but you could also feel the giant prepare an attack against your friend. If you were taken Toshi wouldn't get the drugs, Gran Torino would get seriously injured if he got too close. You didn't want to see that happen, so you grabbed the satchel and threw it as hard as possible at Torino, smacking him against the face and knocking him to the ground.

The giant trudged into the portal with you over his shoulder, leaving your hero buddies in the ruined forest. He kneeled down and swayed from the drugs, letting you fall to the ground below him.

A man of purple mist and a dress vest walked over, his misty hands clamped over his front. "Witch Doctor," he addresses," I would appreciate it if you followed me."

You bit your lip, still being looked over by the giant man behind your hunched form. You wanted to ask a question, to yell and scream and thrash until they were too annoyed to keep you alive... but you were too afraid to even try.

Was this the man sending you the letters? Was this the legendary All For One Toshi warned you about? "Who-who are you?" Your voice betrayed you and cracked under your fear.

Yellow eyes evaluated your own (e/c) ones. The mist man in front of you seemed to be figuring out what happened to the woozy giant behind you, but you couldn't tell in those yellow voids of his. "My name is Kurogiri, now, follow me." His tone shifted into a more violent one.

You shivered under his gaze, a figure showing up beside him. A judgmental figure at that, short with large goggles and a mustache. Though this new addition discarded you with a quiet mutter under his breath.

Kurogiri finally had enough waiting and grabbed you by your wounded forearm, making you cringe as he pulled you through the dull halls of the facility. The environment was filled with dark greys, bright blues and a metallic shine. "Where are we going?"

"You are going to heal my master."

You didn't need to hear anymore before understanding what was going to happen. You pulled your injured arm from his grip, wincing at the pain, and ran as fast as you could.

Sadly you didn't get as far as you would have wanted. A purple portal swept you off your feet, making you fall into a new room entirely. Your body slammed against the hard floor without mercy.

Kurogiri sighed and stepped through a portal he made for himself, once again dragging you to your feet. The room was dark, but clean and barren none the less. The sounds that echoed through the room was that of a breathing machine and medical equipment.

"You may leave, Kurogiri. I'll take it from here."

A haunting voice shook you to your core, it was deep and threatening, yet mocking and intrigued. The man of mist turned on his heels and left, closing the portal behind him. Your heat beat loudly in your chest, suffocating and causing you to hyperventilate.

The voice boomed with laughter, a strained sound complimenting the 'wrrr's of the machines. "You have no reason to be afraid, (y/n)." The hands gripping the floor violently shook, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "Now come here."

His mammoth sized hand stalked out of the darkness covering his body, tempting you to take it. You could see the underlying of his mouth, bright white teeth gleaming in mockery. "I suggest you don't keep me waiting, I've been patient enough." He added.

Your feet acted on their own volition, moving you closer to the shadowed figure. He could probably hear your uneven breathing from the bed he sat in. Once you stood beside the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks, he roughly grabbed your wrists and pulled you on top of him. Your legs straddled his hips as he sat up, a sigh escaping his barely visible lips.

"I must confess, (y/n), I've had my eyes on you for quite sometime." His mocking tone brought more tears to fall. "At first I was going to take you after I killed Nana, just to torture All Might some more. Then I learned of your quirk and wanted it for myself, but it wouldn't exactly be useful if I took it would it?"

His mammoth hands wrapped tightly around your wrists, forcing them to cup his cheeks around his sickening smile. "I asked a question." His voice shifted into a scolding tone, his hands slipping from your arms to your waist.

"N-no, it wouldn't."

All For One's smile widened at your scared tone. "Are you scared?" He mocked. "Where's that smile All Might preaches, huh?" You jolted in his lap as his cold hands touched the flesh of your hips. He snickered at your skittish reactions. "You are much cuter up close, you know that?"

Submit or fight back? You tried that a long time ago, fighting back, and it made everything so much worse. You were afraid, terrified of fighting back against this man. Were you afraid of death? No, you never thought yourself to be, but maybe you were wrong. The suffocating feeling of him staring you down like prey made you think he was death itself. And that made you fucking terrified.

His humming and hands sliding your shirt up brought you back to reality. "Wa-wait!"

He grumbled and stopped. "Go on."

"I can heal you another way! It'll hurt less but-but it'll take a little longer." You stutter to try and save your skin, but the never faltering smile he gave told you it was all for not.

His hands also proved that theory. They roamed up your tank top, tapping each finger against your skin for more insult to injury. "You're so sweet, worrying about me. I'm sure you already know who I am, don't you?"

You nodded and tried to shift away from the man's touches. He groaned at the friction down below. Time stopped when you heard that noise, a meek squeak emitting from your throat. He mockingly laughed at the sound. "I'll take that as a yes."

He started to take off your clothes, gently, slowly, layer by layer. Shivers and tears shocked your body, you hated it, but you were too afraid to even think about fighting back. Pieces were thrown to the stone floor, your hero costume being stripped from you.

All For One's grin widened more than you thought possible. "You wore the lingerie I bought for you. I'm flattered." His hands cupped your covered breasts, the thumbs tracing the lace. You held back a mewl when he undid the clasp and started kneading the mounds. Forefingers and thumbs tweaked your nipples, pulling and pinching the sensitive flesh.

Your hands stayed glued to his face, the tips of your fingers grazed mauled flesh but quickly pulled away. The man below you noticed, chuckled, and forced your hands onto his mauled face again. "This is what your precious All Might did to me, cruel isn't it?"

A shiver ran down your spine at the odd sensation he forced in your finger tips. Calloused hands dragged down your waist to your panty line, pulling the clothe to the side. His thick finger ran up your slit, collecting the small amount of fluid that had built up. He returned it to his lips and dragged his tongue to lap up the liquid pleasure.

All For One shuddered and groaned at the taste. the man could feel your quirk taking effect, the burning sensation already taking hold the more he tasted. Animalistic pleasure grabbed him by the throat, his lips crashing into your own. He wanted more of that sweet taste, the taste that would heal him back into completion over and over and over again.

He wanted you, all of you.

Saliva mixed in both of your mouths as his tongue slipped past your lips. He groaned and tightened his already iron grip on your hips, your bones creaking under the strain. You meekly shrieked when he bit down on your bottom lip, sucking and drinking the blood.

The wound quickly healed up so he kept his assault, biting and sucking and drinking the blood. Your hands slid to his clothed chest, trying to push off.

All For One wasn't having it though, he stripped himself of his suit jacket and dress shirt and pulled your form closer to him. His clothed groin strained in his pants, you could feel it prodding your nether regions. One hand snaked into your (h/l) (h/c) hair to keep your lips locked with his, the other hand cupping and rubbing your sex.

You accidentally moaned into the kiss, earning a amused groan from your captor. The man let go of your bruising lips to listen to your cute mewls. His hands sped up, using the base of his palm to rub your clit as one of his thick fingers entered the sex.

He mercilessly pumped the finger, curling and prodding at the spongy spot inside you. Your legs trembled around him, hands sliding up to his shoulder for something sturdy to hold. You hated how pleasurable this felt, you hated how it was him who made you feel like this.

"St-sto-ah-p! I-I-!" He chuckled at your meek attempts, his lips crashing into your neck and biting harshly. "Gah!" You could feel the blood drip down your collar bone before being lapped up. All For One added another finger and scissored around to stretch you out.

You could feel the rumbling of his throat, the tightening and tensing of his muscles, all from your bodily fluids. Your own wounds lightly healing, leaving black and blue bruises in its wake.

He added a third figure, stuffing you full. His palm roughly hit your clit with each intense thrust. Your toes curled, stomach tensing. You could feel your release emerging, and he could tell. "Go on," He moaned. "Don't hold back."

Your legs clamped around his hips as your pleasure reached its peek. Throwing your head back you loudly moaned into the abyss of the dark room. Your release hitting like a truck as you shivered.

All For One laughed as he licked his fingers clean, both groaning from the taste and the pain shooting through his healing body. It was strange how his head tingled and burned as it healed. Arms wrapped tightly around your form, glueing you to his chest as you came down from your high.

As you sunk lower in his lap, sweat face against his chest, you could hear the light echo of his belt buckle being undone. Your pleasure foggy mind didn't follow the sound, only wanting to soak in his warmth and go to sleep. You squirmed around his movements until something hard rubbed your clit.

Hands gripped your hips harshly, lifting you up suddenly just thrust you balls deep onto his hard cock. You screamed and clawed at his shoulders, drawing a small amount of blood.

You never felt so stuffed in your life, his cock pressing in all the right places without giving you any extra room. His head pressed against your crevix, prodding at your womb. Your slick helped ease the pain but his massive size kept you writhing under his grip.

All For One's rigid breath echoed like a dark mantra to your pained squeaks. He lifted you by your hips and slammed you back down.

You strangled out a moan with each deep thrust. The hard cock jabbed your insides to make you see stars, your body warming up to the abuse. You gasped every time his head pushed against your entrance of your womb.

Your breasts bounced, the liquid between your thighs drenching his dress pants, and the friction between your legs riding you closer to the edge of ecstasy. He thrust his hips to meet yours as he lifted you up and kept pushing you back down with feverish force. Each thrust bumped painfully your insides, pushing farther and deeper.

"You're not a virgin are you? Has All Might fucked you like this?" All For One's tone changed from the usual mocking to seething hatred. "Has he marked you like this? Ravaged your cunt until he had you screaming?" He lifted you all the way to his tip and slammed you down hard.

The head of his cock pushed through your crevix and into your womb from his force. You shrieked from the painful feeling, but the sadistic sensation pushed you over the edge.

Your walls clamped tightly around his length and gushed liquid pleasure on his lap. The man loudly groaned when your walls sucked him deeper. He kept going, thrusting and pushing deeper, faster, and stronger.

The liquid from your body twisting his flesh back to its original state. It hurt like hell, you could tell as his large hands crushed your hips like grapes. Fat tears streamed down your reddened cheeks, sobs echoing through the mostly empty room.

All For One's thrusts quickly became sloppy, obviously chasing his own release. "He's been replaced, I'll fill you up and mark you as my own! He'll never see you again, I'll make sure of it!"

Hot ropes of white spilled into your womb effectively making you see stars. Both of you tensed and shook at the force of the orgasm. Your third climax tore into the last of your energy, making you pass out from sheer exhaustion.

All For One released his tight hold on your hips, eyeing your form with a deranged smile. Bruises lined your neck, collarbone, and hips. Your quirk would heal them a bit, but you would need time to allow them to fully heal.

The dangerous man, on the other hand, was healed to the point where he wouldn't need the breathing machine to live. He wasn't healed all the way, that would only happen after a few more sessions, but it was a start.

His gaze fell on your soft features, no longer perturbed by his actions and instead twisted into a delicate serenity. You looked peaceful blissfully unaware of what he had in store for you, not that he minded.

~~~

You shift in your sleep, scrunching your nose at some unknown pain down below. A plush pillow rest below your head, and almost acted like a chain keeping you down. Despite the comfort, you forced yourself to get up. Groaning, you threw off your covers and stretched out like a cat. Wincing from the pain and sitting up in the overly warm and soft bed.

You took the opportunity to soak in your surroundings. The colors were warm, a dresser parallel with a door on the opposite side of the room. Everything looked meticulously placed and expensive. The room was large and had a door off to the side, probably the bathroom, with a pair of sliding doors, most likely a closet, and an archway leading to another room.

You stumbled out of the bed and limped around the room. A mirror on the wall revealed what you looked like. Hickies littered your neck and collarbone, your once broken arm wrapped in bandages to help it heal. A lavender colored nightgown draped just above your still shaky thighs. You winced and lifted it up, more bandages around your bruised hips.

He was rough, that was something you could remember. You probably didn't heal him all the way either, that must be why he kept you alive.

You jumped and turned in the direction of some new noises. Heavy footsteps echoed through the room next over so you peeked behind the archway to see who decided to show up.

All For One slipped off his large dress shoes with his back to you. You could kill him, couldn't you? The man's back was facing you, all you needed was a blade or blunt object. You glanced around the room but found nothing, then again you had the feeling he already knew where and what you were doing.

"How did you sleep, (y/n)?" You swallowed the lump of spit in your throat as you gripped the archway. "Hm?" He peered over his shoulder, the sickening smile that haunted your nightmares stretching across his thin lips. His head was still mangled, but it was now healed into a large, clean scar.

"Why am I here?" You asked.

He turned to fully face you and stepped nearer, his bulky form looming over your frail body like a veil. His hand moved to your cheek, caressing the flesh in an all too intimate act of affection. "I think you already know the answer to that." He mused, dipping to let his lips graze the shell of your ear.

You shivered.

"You're mine."

#yandere mha #yandere bnha #Yandere all for one #Yandere all for one x Reader #Yandere bnha x reader #Yandere mha x reader #toshinori x reader #Yandere shigaraki #Yandere shigaraki x reader #yander afo #Yandere afo x reader #yandere smut #mha #bnha

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sk1fanfiction · 4 years ago

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the many faces of tom riddle, part 2

-you dislike frank dillane’s portrayal of tom riddle only because you don’t think he’s attractive-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION (and this time, featuring a bit of armchair child psych from a student).

Wait, don’t clutch your pearls just yet. Compose yourself.

I am about to explain why it’s not actually that bad, and Dillane’s portrayal is vastly underappreciated.

I definitely agree that his portrayal comes off as ‘creepier’. It’s not helped by the stylistic decisions in the scene -- the smeary, green filter gives the scene a sinister quality.

Even Slughorn looks suspect here, which is somewhat appropriate, given that he is complicit in this crime.

Again, this scene is very much intended to be slightly off.

You’ll notice (and I’ll discuss this again when I talk about Coulson’s portrayal) that Dillane is almost always shot from at least slightly below, which makes the lower third of his face look bigger (and thus more menacing). The lighting also makes his eyes glow in a really unnatural way. There’s an echo-y effect to make his voice (and not Slughorn’s) sound unnerving.

People talk about how Coulson would have looked in this scene, and if he was filmed in the same way (monotone, smeary/shadowy filter, and always from below), he’d look a bit creepy, too.

But all of this, imo, is for a pretty good reason. Slughorn isn’t the POV character. Harry is. Harry is learning about how a young Lord Voldemort wheedled the secret of Horcruxes out of an unsuspecting teacher. Unlike in COS, he expects Riddle to be evil. And, so, Harry’s new perception of Tom Riddle literally colors how we perceive him.

Take this shot, for example: he does that head-tilt thing that Coulson does, and it’s actually... kind of... cute???

Imagine Dillane filmed from slightly above, like Coulson usually is, and it looks even more innocent. (I mean, come on, he does not look like he’s killed four people, does he?) It’s not hard to imagine teachers being taken in by this kind of act.

Even that little smirk he does when the camera (aka, Harry’s gaze) pans in, is for Harry’s benefit. No one else noticed that.

However, I still fail to find this creepy, like, at all. Yes, it’s a fake smile, but he’s portraying a different side of Tom Riddle to Coulson. Whereas, in COS, he’s in his vindictive, murderous element, where he’s free to express himself, in this scene, Tom Riddle is doing what he does best -- manipulating and managing appearances.

This entire scene is an act. And because Harry knows it’s an act, it should look a bit stilted.

From the Hepzibah Smith scene in the books: Voldemort smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.

So, Harry is pretty adept at parsing Tom’s fake expressions.

But just look at the expressiveness in his face: he goes from brooding, he blinks, and his entire face changes to this charming (fake) smile.

At the risk of sounding elitist, I’m a bit tired of seeing the word ‘psychopath’, which is not an actual medical diagnosis recognised by any psychological or psychiatric institution, being tossed about, especially with reference to Tom Riddle (and from a neuroscience perspective, it’s doubly annoying). There’s no such thing as ‘insanity’ or ‘psychopathy’ or being ‘crazy.’

-although I use it too a shorthand in conversation to distinguish ‘canon’ Tom from his ‘softer’ OOC counterparts, I really shouldn’t-

Unfortunately, I’ve seen the ‘psychopath’ comment used time-and-time again as an excuse or a full explanation of ‘why Tom Riddle went evil’ (JKR in fact, has made a weird comment in an interview, basically saying that ‘psychopaths can’t be redeemed or learn adaptive coping skills’ or whatever), which really just goes to show the lack of understanding and compassion when personality disorders, especially, are concerned.

But what I like most about the opening of this scene, actually, is that first, listless expression. And this is where we get slightly into headcanon, but Tom Riddle is the opposite of a happy, mentally healthy teenager. By Dumbledore’s own admission, he has no real friends. He has no parental figures, no real attachments. Yes, he might derive some pride or enjoyment from being good at magic and top of his class and all that, but I really don’t think even Tom finds that truly fulfilling. There is nothing that makes him happy.

In fact, although some might perceive it as ‘creepy’, I think that listless expression is an accurate window into Tom’s psyche.

I know people aren’t big on Freud, but I think that he does make some interesting points (also, cut the guy some slack for being relatively open-minded for the Victorian Era, and inventing psychoanalysis and while yes he did say some sexist stuff, good luck finding a field of science that isn’t male-focused and makes crazy generalizations about women, especially back in the day) about the possible origins of thanatophobia, the fear of death.

According to Freud, thanatophobia is a disguise for a deeper source of concern -- he did not believe that people were capable of conceptualizing their own death to that extent. Instead, he believed that this phobia was caused by unresolved childhood conflicts that the sufferer cannot come to terms with or express emotion towards.

Now, I know Freud almost always attributes mental distress to childhood experiences, but I think in this case, it really has some merit.

According to attachment theory, the basis of how we form attachments in adulthood is dictated by learning it from experiences with caregivers in the first two years of life. We know Tom was born in an orphanage, and that he didn’t cry much as a baby, and subsequently, probably received very little attention. Compounded with possible genetic factors and his caregivers being afraid or wary of his magical abilities, he later struggled to form attachments because of this -- I would actually go so far as to say that by the time Dumbledore meets him, Tom Riddle is severely depressed.

And that flat affect and anhedonia, I think, comes over very well in Dillane’s portrayal. There’s kind of this resignation -- a very deep sadness and loneliness to his character.

Of course, he doesn’t derive any comfort or fulfillment from human interaction, because (to borrow the description from the Wikipedia article on ‘Reactive attachment disorder’, which Tom meets all the criteria for) he has a “grossly disturbed internal working model of relationships.” In other words, he is unresponsive to all offers of attachment because of this unacknowledged trauma.

(You could arguably class Tom as having an avoidant attachment style, but I think in his case the trauma and its effect on him are severe enough to call it disordered.)

RAD isn’t particularly well-characterized (especially neurologically) and quite new in the literature, but here are some links if anyone is interested in doing a bit of digging: Link 1 | Link 2 | Paper 1 | Paper 2

And, instead of trying to resolve this conflict in a healthy way, or at least recognize that this is why he can’t be happy and try to learn how to cope from there, he (a) represses the desire for human attachment and (b) funnels that negative emotion into being the fault of Death, the Grim Reaper (again, to borrow Freudian terms).

And we all know how that turned out...

(And now, this should go without saying, but psychoanalyzing fictional characters has nothing to do with assigning a morality to mental disorders. Mental illness is neither a cause nor an excuse for criminal behavior -- in the same way that the cycle of violence is a phenomenon, not an excuse. Tom Riddle did not become a genocidal murderer because, in common parlance, he was a ‘psychopath’ -- he was not necessarily ‘predisposed’ to evil and could just as easily chosen to not follow the path that he did -- instead, he willingly made poor choices. This is a descriptive analysis, not a justification -- a ‘how’, not a ‘why’)

Here’s a Carl Jung quote that articulates it better:

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

Yes, he’s a bit stiff (and a lot more formal than in COS during his *conversation* with Harry). But, and here comes the controversial bit, this is appropriate for a portrayal of a schoolboy in the 1940s. The upright posture is accurate -- respectful, polite -- everything Tom Riddle would have been expected to be (and even Coulson, in that scene with Dumbledore in COS, is quite stiff). Even the way he looks at Slughorn and maintains eye contact is very *respectful.*

And, Dillane (I think he’s seventeen or eighteen here) actually looks like a believable sixteen-year-old. I’m sorry, I love Coulson’s portrayal as well, but he looks around nineteen in COS; so in HBP, he probably would have looked at least twenty-two or so. (Sorry, not sorry).

This may be influenced by my own interpretation of the character (because I imagine Tom always looks young for his age, and Dillane fits that archetype, but I don’t think that’s very popular), but I think young Tom Riddle is supposed to be *cute* and a bit stiff/shy/awkward (being charming and awkward is very much possible), if you consider the way Dippet and Slughorn treat him.

To support this, he says very few words to Hepzibah Smith (in the book, that scene’s not in the movie), and is very... bashful and coy during the whole interaction? I think yes, he’s charismatic, but he’s not loud, suave, openly flirtatious or particularly verbose. Tom Riddle should have a quiet magnetism, and to me, that came across in Dillane’s portrayal.

"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Voldemort quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.

...

"Are you all right, dear?"

"Oh yes," said Voldemort quietly. "Yes, I'm very well. ..."

Even the ‘ugly, greedy look’ described in the books, when Slughorn starts spilling his secrets, is there. This is how he’s supposed to look! Slughorn glimpses it, but doesn’t understand its significance. Harry does.

“Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all.”

Remember the context of this moment, as well: He’s just discovered how to create multiple Horcruxes. Excuse him for looking a bit creepy (if not now, then when?).

Here’s two direct quotes of Harry’s impression of Tom Riddle in that scene:

“But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing.”

“Harry had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human. . . .”

Tom Riddle’s Horcruxes are a direct metaphor for his refusal to allow himself to heal from his trauma -- instead, he continues to inflict destruction on himself and others.

His desire to continue creating more Horcruxes sort of resounds with the fact that self-harm can also become a compulsion.

I’d also like to digress a bit to discuss the Gaunt Ring, while we’re at it. While we’ve talked about his attachment issues in general, this discussion is particularly pertinent to father figures. And while Tom’s attachment issues are extensive, I think there’s ample evidence that as a child, he craved acknowledgement and acceptance from a father figure -- the man who gave him the only thing Tom truly owned -- his name. He would have had a vaguely defined mother figure in Mrs. Cole, perhaps.

"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was.... He didn’t like magic, my father ... He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage ... but I vowed to find him ... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name ... Tom Riddle. ..."

We know that by June of 1943 (COS flashback) Tom has already uncovered the truth of his parentage; he knows he is the Heir of Slytherin via the Gaunt line, and he describes himself to Dippet as ‘Half-blood, sir. Witch mother, Muggle father.’

In Part 1, I discussed the high probability that as a presumed ‘Mudblood’, Tom Riddle was treated rather poorly in Slytherin House. But by this scene in the fall of 1943, he is surrounded by a group of adoring hangers-on. Why?

In my opinion; the Gaunt Ring. We know that Tom stopped wearing it after school, so its sentimental value couldn’t have been that great. We know he likes to collect objects (which I believe stems from his attachment issues -- he seeks comfort in things instead of other people).

Signet rings (such as the one belonging to Tutankhamun seen above) were used to stamp legal documents and such, in order to certify someone’s identify -- like an e-certificate, if you will. Like Tutankhamun’s ring, the Gaunt Ring bears an identifying symbol -- Marvolo Gaunt tells us proudly that it bears the Peverell family crest.

By the Middle Ages, anyone of influence, including the nobility, wore a signet ring. Rings in antiquity were auspicious -- they signified power, legitimacy, and authority. And so, I believe that all the Sacred Twenty-Eight families would have worn these, too.

And so, bearing the Gaunt Ring would have established Tom Riddle, symbolically and in the eyes of the Sacred Twenty-Eight (his future supporters and followers), as the legitimate heir to the House of Gaunt. This is why, I believe, Tom coveted the ring as soon as he saw it -- not just because it was a family heirloom, and not just because he thought it was a pretty toy for his collection.

(He curses it so that no one else but him can wear the Gaunt Ring safely.)

This is why, to make the legitimization literal as well as symbolic, Tom murders his father and grandparents. It’s not just an act of vindictive, murderous rage due to his perception of being rejected by his father (although it is that, too). And so, Tom, abandoning his search for a father figure (and possibly also giving up on the possibility to allow himself to heal from his own personal trauma rather than continue to inflict it on others), ‘cleanses’ his bloodline, to make himself truly legitimate. It’s rather telling that instead of affirming his legitimacy as a Riddle, which would have put him in line for a nice inheritance, and hey -- money is money -- (thus accepting his half-blood status), he simply kills them all. He has done all the murdering he needs to become immortal (and he hasn’t had the discussion about multiple Horcruxes yet); but yet, he does it again. Frightening stuff.

(Just look how the others look at Tom. All but the one to his left -- possibly Nott, Rosier, or Mulciber -- have their torsos turned towards him. Their attention is on him, while he knowingly regards the viewer/Harry. Tom seems a little uncomfortable with the attention.).

“And there were the half-dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger.”

...

“Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.”

...

“Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader.”

The ‘gang’ are true hangers-on; Tom doesn’t seem to pay them much attention.

So, if not via careful flattery or charisma, the attraction must be status.

And perhaps yet more telling...

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing." “A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.”

That, in my opinion, is as good as we’re going to get as proof that Tom’s shiny new signet ring (and by extension, his new status) made a big impression on his fellow students.

So, when he returns to Hogwarts, he is ‘pureblood’. He is cleansed of his Muggle roots, and becomes the legitimate heir of the House of Gaunt, now well on his way to becoming Lord Voldemort...

Watch the scene again, with a critical eye, and imagine Slughorn’s perspective, instead of Harry’s. There’s nothing creepy about Tom Riddle... unless you know what he is...

Strip away all the effects of Harry’s gaze (and notice, here he’s still looking at Harry), and he’s quite the charmer, actually.

(I will concede that I don’t like the promotional images where they have him looking like he’s up to no good. And I do wish he blinked once in a while.)

My challenge to you: Rewatch the scene with an open mind, and let me know if you agree that Dillane’s portrayal comes off as depressive rather than ‘creepy.’ And if not, why do you dislike his portrayal?

#tom riddle #character analysis #character study #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #frank dillane #i literally could not find any pictures other than these #literal crumbs i swear #i know this is unpopular #people really dislike him i guess #watch the scene again with an open mind i promise you'll like it #i seriously do think he did a good job #tw: mention of child abuse #tw: mention of self-harm #i'm not trying to oversimplify things but you can't deny that maybe if tom was hugged as a child it would have helped #say it with me: psychopathy is not an actual medical diagnosis #it's actual more of a legal/criminal justice term #and people just use it as a synonym for 'evil' at this point so the original meaning is pretty much obscured #and personality disorders should not be moralized #people with personality disorders are not 'evil'

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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part 3 of Escape Your Destiny (Star Wars Wangxian AU) - on ao3 or tumblr part 1, part 2

He had been right to reject seclusion, Lan Wangji thought grimly. The sweet siren call of calm contemplation had nearly seduced him, the Dark Side seeking to eat away at him through other means now that anger and hatred had not done the work – he would have meditated himself into a stupor, becoming little more than a vacuum within the Force, a black hole of deathly intent.

More than that, though, he would have missed – this.

This disaster.

Wei Wuxian’s lips were pale from blood loss and hypothermia. Two of his limbs were at odd angles, probably broken, and Lan Wangji feared that there were more like them beneath the body that was bruised like a tender peach – he had been shielding as many people as he could, Lan Wangji knew, because he knew his Wei Ying too well to think that he might have done anything else.

Lan Wangji still didn’t know all the details, what exactly had been the disaster or why Wei Wuxian’s starfighter had crashed when he knew (with painful recollection) exactly how good a pilot Wei Wuxian was, but it hadn’t really mattered. Xue Yang had rushed into his chamber shouting excitedly - not exactly a rare event - saying something about an alarm and a disaster and a crash and can I have one of these gadgets? possibly two, maybe, I’m thinking two but haven’t really committed yet, it’s a big decision you know, and Lan Wangji’s blood had run cold when he realized what alarm he was referencing.

(A proper Jedi would never have tagged the object of his affections like an endangered bird or a criminal, injecting the tracking chip so deep into bone and muscle that standard scans wouldn’t pick it up and even in-depth scans might register it as a naturally occurring aberration. A proper Jedi would think of such intimate surveillance as cruelty, dehumanization, the caging of a free bird –

A proper Jedi wouldn’t have known what happened.

A proper Jedi wouldn’t have been able to rush over at once, wouldn’t have been in time to retrieve the body from the wreckage, finding it still warm and breathing but swiftly fading into the Force.

A proper Jedi would have been worthless.)

“That looks pretty bad, Master,” Xue Yang said, the comm crackling in his ear, and for once his tone was almost solemn. Perhaps the lessons on empathy were working, following the introduction of the rancor Xue Yang had named Chengmei with an expression so pained and vicious that Lan Wangji had refrained from asking. Perhaps it was that he’d grown so obsessed with his pair of bounty hunters and their foundling assistant, a little not-blind Bothan girl who liked to mouth off at him. Or perhaps it was just something as simple as knowing that if Wei Wuxian were lost, Lan Wangji would have no reason to –

No reason to anything at all.

“It is within the limits of what a bacta tank can heal,” Lan Wangji said, because it was, it would be, as long as he got him there in time.

Time that was swiftly running out.

Later, when Wei Wuxian was safe, Lan Wangji would return to that obscure little space station that had nearly caused his beloved’s death and he would find out what had happened properly. He would find out, and he would slaughter every one of them that caused it, torment them for days if he needed to in order to know who to blame – it didn’t matter if their contribution were accidental or deliberate, major or slight. He would offer up a sacrifice of their suffering to the Dark Side, as solemn as lighting a stick of incense at a temple –

When Wei Wuxian was safe.

Because he would be. He had to be.

Lan Wangji’s Wei Ying would not die so easily.

“Uh, Master? We don’t have a bacta tank.” Xue Yang was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know that many people around here that do. This is Outer Rim, remember? Not even the Hutts have one.”

“There is one in an outpost in the Quiberon sector,” Lan Wangji said. His attention was split between piloting their stolen ship as fast as he could and monitoring Wei Wuxian’s vital signs. He had transferred a certain amount of energy into him already, but the Dark Side was poisonous in overly large quantities, especially if one was not accustomed to it; a pure Jedi like Wei Wuxian couldn’t tolerate it, and Lan Wangji would not risk making him worse. “Inat Prime system. I’ve entered the coordinates. Set us up for a jump to lightspeed.”

“Inat Prime,” Xue Yang repeated, instead of doing as he was told. “Isn’t that – near Rothana?”

Lan Wangji said nothing.

“Rothana’s a manufacturing planet. Heavy engineering – warships. It used to belong to a subsidy of the Jin Engineering Corps, maybe still does, I don’t know, but either way manufacturing planets like that are where those sleemos keep their precious IP. And that means it’s going to be guarded and booby-trapped up your chubba. Who in their right mind would set up an outpost anywhere near there?”

Xue Yang was descending into Huttese slang again, Lan Wangji noted to himself, keeping his calm only by sheer force of willpower even as the Dark Side screamed in his mind that now was the time for rage and pain and blood. Given his hatred of the entire species, Xue Yang only did that when he was especially anxious and didn’t want to admit it.

Later, when he didn’t have more pressing things on his mind, Lan Wangji would have to inquire of his apprentice – which he had previously believed was as transparent to him as a sheet of transparisteel – how he had learned about things like top-secret Jin Engineering manufacturing planets and IP and such things like that.

Later. Right now, he didn’t care.

“Prepare for jump,” he said again, the threat in his voice clear, and this time Xue Yang scrambled to obey, mumbling curses as he went. This was more typical of Xue Yang, but in this case it signified that he was concentrating, and that was all Lan Wangji cared about.

The rest of the trip passed as if in a daze, time counted in the beats of Wei Wuxian’s heart. Still strong, because Wei Wuxian was strong – this wouldn’t be the end of him. It wouldn’t.

Lan Wangji would make sure of that.

“We’re here,” Xue Yang said, breaking through Lan Wangji’s extreme focus on the rise and fall of Wei Wuxian’s chest. “I’m going to guess that our destination is the third planet? If you can call those other ones planets, they’re barely more than asteroids…”

Lan Wangji hummed, affirming.

“So, you going to tell me what this place is? Some super-secret Sith hideout?”

“No.”

“Smuggler’s base? Bounty hunter lair? Mandalorian terrorist cell? Clone factory?”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. Xue Yang had been reading too many historical action comics again.

“No, but seriously, Master! I deserve to know what we’re getting into, don’t I? What is this place?”

Lan Wangji was tempted to say you deserve nothing but what I give you, you filthy-tongue swamp-rat, but that was the Dark Side speaking, not him, and not only because the Gusu Lan Jedi order in which he had been raised did not permit cursing. It was simply anathema to him - he was Sith, but not a Lord, and he had encouraged this self-same insolence because it was better than having Xue Yang cringe before him like a kicked dog.

No matter how irritating it might be at times like this.

“It’s Jedi,” he said shortly, and to his amusement that actually shut Xue Yang up for a solid minute.

“I’m sorry, Master, I think I temporarily went insane due to Dark Force poisoning,” Xue Yang finally said. “But did you say that we’re planning on popping over and ‘borrowing’ the bacta tank of a bunch of Jedi?”

“Mm.”

“Master. Master. Please tell me you remember that we’re Sith, right? Sort of the sworn enemy of the Jedi? Arrest-on-sight orders? Any of this ringing any bells here? No? In short, have you lost your mind?”

Lan Wangji took Wei Wuxian’s pulse again. It was getting increasingly thready; he frowned.

“Take us in,” he ordered, and Xue Yang made a whining sound not unlike an especially agitated cat, but he obeyed, finding the planetary base and flashing them with a urgent medical attention required signal and transmitting the passcode Lan Wangji recited to him.

The base opened its doors in silent invitation.

Xue Yang took them in, apparently resigned to his fate and determined to pointedly suffer and judge him without saying a word.

This determination cracked the second they passed through the gates.

“Master!” he shrieked. “Master, Master! That’s the Qinghe Nie emblem!”

“It is,” Lan Wangji agreed. Foreseeing Xue Yang’s next question, he added, “It is here because this is an outpost of the Qinghe Nie Jedi order.”

Xue Yang sounded a bit like a rusty door when he hyperventilated, and even more so when he started laughing hysterically. How had he ever survived being a Sith before, if this was how he reacted to stress?

“Great, right, yes,” he said, nearly howling. “Sure, why not? Let’s go knock on the door of some Jedi and ask them for a bacta tank like we’re borrowing a cup of sugar, sure, okay, we can do that. Jedi are chumps, they’re all about mercy and sympathy and bantha fodder like that; we can con ‘em - it’ll be tricky, but it can be done when you’re in a pinch. I’m fine with that, up for it, it’s cool, all cool. You know who we can’t con? Qinghe Nie, that’s who. ‘Suppress evil no matter the cost’ Qinghe karking Nie.”

Lan Wangji ignored him, scooping Wei Wuxian into his arms and heading out into the saber hall.

Three grim-faced Jedi dressed in the immediately identifiable colors of the Qinghe Nie were waiting there, hands on their lightsabers and droids lingering in the corridors, but they did not attack. Instead, they led Lan Wangji, a nervous Xue Yang dogging his heels, to the medical bay, never uttering a single word.

The medical droids took Wei Wuxian from his arms – Lan Wangji forced himself to recall the Lan sect mantras on restraint and allowed them to do so without ripping out their wires for daring to touch him – but it wasn’t until Wei Wuxian was firmly encased in the bacta tank, the oxygen-rich liquid flowing into his lungs to heal him, the colors on all the screens all showing positive signs, that he was finally able to release the breath it felt that he’d been holding since he first saw the broken starfighter that encased Wei Wuxian’s broken body.

This was fine.

“Wangji,” a low voice said from behind him, and Lan Wangji’s back stiffened.

This was not fine.

The Qinghe Nie were a strange order of Jedi – almost heretical, really, by any traditional measure. The orthodox Jedi order, for the most part, valued calm and serenity and selflessness, prioritizing the logic of the mind over the yearning of the heart, preaching detachment from worldly concerns and attachments…

Qinghe Nie, in contrast, valued righteousness, and cultivated rage.

Halfway to Sith, Lan Wangji’s uncle had once remarked after a glass of something stronger than tea. He’d regretted it later, of course, and tried to walk it back, smooth over his uncharacteristic rudeness, but Lan Wangji still remembered.

The adherents of Qinghe Nie were of the view that for every virtue there was a fault – that the Jedi’s emotional remove would at times render them passive, that self-control could too quickly shade into indifference. They argued that it was the duty of the virtuous to be enraged by evil, intolerant of it, and that only through that anger would they be motivated to act to eradicate it.

Their philosophy often led to their deaths, whether through reckless action or through the corruption of rage into madness, but even their harshest critics had to concede that they were devastatingly effective.

Lan Wangji had always thought that there was something heartbreakingly sincere about all the Jedi that took the harsh vows of Qinghe Nie, each one willingly trading away long lives for the sake of righteousness, for the ability to make a change in the world, each one unable to tolerate life if it meant they weren’t striving to make things better. Perhaps they did not match the Jiang for creativity or the Lan for elegance, perhaps their techniques were more brutish and less refined, their diplomacy little short of appalling, but no other Jedi order could match them for sheer power.

Very few people wanted to be between a Qinghe Nie Jedi and their target, and still less if they had allowed themselves to succumb to the beserker rage that sometimes took them on the battlefield – indeed, in a crisis that called for force of arms, most people who knew what they were about would rather have a single Qinghe Nie on their side than an entire battalion of war-droids from the Jin or Wen engineering corps.

Still, even that efficiency might not have been enough to convince the ancient sticklers of the Jedi Council to condone such a Sith-like view of the Force, but the Qinghe Nie also had an unsurpassed connection to the kyber crystals that were essential to the creation of lightsabers – the mines under their hands were far more numerous and more fruitful than any other order, and for all that they seemed to have dubious connections to the lightsabers they crafted and wielded, with their highly unusual one-sided edge, they were always open-handed and willing to let other Jedi pick freely from their stores.

With the ancestral weapon of the entire Jedi order at stake, even the Jedi Council unwillingly bowed its head to reality and compromised.

Not very happily. Especially since the fierce young head of the Qinghe Nie order – the great Chifeng-zun, Nie Mingjue – had been constantly causing trouble for them ever since he had been admitted to their deliberations.

More relevantly, though, was that Nie Mingjue was also a good friend of Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji’s elder brother by blood, and it had been the gift of his token, his passcode, never revoked, that they had used to enter through the gates.

(Look what happened to the Twin Jades you prized so much, my old clansmen, Uncle, Father, Grandfather. Look at me now. Begging for scraps from a Nie -)

Lan Wangji turned and saluted, bowing deeply and ignoring Xue Yang, who had progressed so far into hysterical laughter that he was now hiccupping.

Nie Mingjue caught his hands and raised him up, just the way he always had, and that grim face surveyed Lan Wangji from top to bottom, those searing eyes seeming to pierce into the depths of his corrupted soul.

“You look well,” he said, which surprised even Lan Wangji, who had thought himself beyond surprises. “That’s good.”

“What the fuck,” Xue Yang muttered. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck – you guys are with me here, right? This is kriffing insane…”

The Qinghe Nie Jedi ignored him.

“Chifeng-zun,” Lan Wangji said politely, and ignored the man’s raised eyebrow. He was not about to fall back into calling him da-ge the way he’d done back when he was in the Jedi crèche, no matter how tempting – everyone had called Nie Mingjue da-ge back then, too young to be afraid of his fierce and barely leashed energy. “Thank you for lending us temporary use of your base.”

There wasn’t really a polite way to say I wasn’t expecting to run into you here under the circumstances, but from the way Nie Mingjue snorted, Lan Wangji suspected he’d understood regardless.

“Checking up on the Jin,” he said, an explanation that Lan Wangji didn’t deserve to hear. “Treasonous svapers, the lot of them. Is this Wei Wuixan?”

Lan Wangji nodded. His heart was unexpectedly in his throat as Nie Mingjue studied the other Jedi through the glass of the bacta tank, though he wasn’t sure why.

He was Sith now, after all. Why would he care what Nie Mingjue thought?

It would have been easier if Nie Mingjue had been angry at him, full of rage the way he so often was. Easier if he’d turned his tongue as sharp as any lightsaber to scolding him, or turned his face away in coldness. Nie Mingjue notoriously despised the Sith, had probably meant to call the Jin Sithspawn instead of svapers earlier, had probably switched the word only in deference to Lan Wangji’s current occupation – which meant he knew, because of course he knew, there was no way Lan Xichen hadn’t told him even if his position on the Council hadn’t already entitled him to all such secrets.

He knew, and he still persisted in acting like – like –

“Cute enough,” Nie Mingjue commented, and Lan Wangji covered his suddenly burning face with both hands. “You have good taste.”

“Please stop,” Lan Wangji mumbled, mortified beyond all belief. Xue Yang was looking back and between the two of them with his jaw gaping wider than a Gungan’s.

Nie Mingjue snorted, amused. “I carried you around on my shoulders when you were knee high, Wangji. I think I’m entitled to torment you a bit about your crush.”

Xue Yang looked like he was going to forsake the ways of the Sith, convert to Qinghe Nie, and start logging prayers at the temple of Nie Mingjue, and Lan Wangji couldn’t even blame him.

“Don’t you have anything to say about –” Lan Wangji shut his mouth with a snap.

He didn’t actually want to hear Nie Mingjue exorcising him for his choices, no matter how little he regretted them.

Nie Mingjue was silent for a moment, contemplative. “No.”

Lan Wangji blinked, not understanding.

“I don’t have anything to say,” Nie Mingjue clarified with a shrug. “I can’t say I entirely understand why you chose what you did, but we all choose our own paths in the Force, Wangji. I have faith that even though your path leads you to the Dark Side now, it will eventually lead you back to us once more. If you keep your sense of righteousness about you and continue to stand up for what you believe is right as you always have – and avoid engaging in the wholesale slaughter of innocents the way so many Sith do – I will never be disappointed in you.”

…maybe Lan Wangji would allow the people in that spaceport to live.

But only because it would hurt Wei Wuxian to know that he had sacrificed so much for nothing, of course. It was pure selfishness, nothing more.

(The Dark Side hissed in his head, bitter-angry-vicious-hate-hate-hate, but Lan Wangji hadn’t been Hanguang-jun for nothing. He controlled himself, allowing for only the influences he chose to accept – it was his independence that had led him to the Dark Side, and his independence, he believed, that would allow him to forge his own path, as Nie Mingjue had said, even inside the ways of the Sith. His uncle would say that such thoughts were pure arrogance, pride before the fall, but, well. He’d already Fallen, hadn’t he?)

“Would you like to stay with him until his vital signs have recovered?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Lan Wangji nodded, grateful despite himself.

Grateful, too, that Nie Mingjue did not speak of Lan Wangji reconciling with the rest of his old order.

“I will not stay longer,” he added. “I know it must be a burden to you, opening your doors to one such as me –”

“Ridiculous,” Nie Mingjue scoffed. “This is a secret base, Wangji. If you don’t say anything about it, who’ll know? And before you ask, I’m going to tell Wei Wuxian that you saved his life whether you’re here for him waking up or not, so take that into account when selecting your leave time. And I’ll exaggerate.”

He would, too, Lan Wangji thought fondly. Nie Mingjue had always been big brother to all the Jedi younglings, no matter how grown up they eventually got, and he never let them forget it.

“I’ll consider it,” he allowed, and settled into a meditation pose at the side of the room.

“As for you,” Nie Mingjue said to Xue Yang, who straightened up so quickly that he might as well have attached a ruler to his spine. “I hear that you’re the one that’s been attacking Hutt palaces?”

Xue Yang glanced at Lan Wangji, who sighed.

“You shouldn’t encourage him, da-ge,” he murmured. “He gets into enough trouble as it is.”

“Comradery does more to defeat evil than any amount of solitary philosophizing,” Nie Mingjue proclaimed, certain as ever in his own righteousness. It would be unbearably irritating if it was anyone less sincerely bullheaded about it, earnest but full of flaws. “Anyway, it’d be good for some of our padawans to see a Sith in action without needing to go up against one right off the bat. You in?”

“…in? I don’t – there aren’t any Hutt palaces around here..?”

“They take their travelling palaces on the Quiberon Line,” one of the Qinghe Nie Jedi said, and Xue Yang’s eyes lit up at the promise of what he undoubtedly thought was an opportunity for wholesale slaughter. It wouldn’t be, of course, not when he was going to be fighting alongside the strict Qinghe Nie, but it would keep him busy for the time it took Wei Wuxian to stabilize and recover.

Maybe Lan Wangji would even stay long enough to speak with his Wei Ying before retreating to be his silent and unwanted protector again.

Maybe.

#mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #xue yang #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #escape your destiny #star wars au

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taexual · 4 years ago

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (12)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: jealous & possessive!jungkook vs. reader who won’t take his shit

words: 8.8k (whoops)

chapter twelve

Your roommate refused to hide her surprise when you told her you were going to the Parental Advisory party with Jungkook. She couldn’t come with the two of you because she was going to visit her parents this weekend, but the disappointment of missing the party did not overshadow her excitement about you going there with Jungkook.

“Don’t blow this out of proportion,” you pleaded – for the three-hundredth time that evening – unable to relate to her joy. “We won’t be there long, so it doesn’t—”

“It’s your first public date,” Inna spoke—very ceremoniously—as she dug around your closet, convinced that her duty as your roommate was to choose an outfit for you, even if she was the only person – aside from you and Jungkook – who knew that this was all pretend. “Everyone will have their jaws on the floor when they see you arrive together anyway, but a good outfit might just make you feel less self-conscious.”

You had many objections but, knowing that Inna was running short on time before her bus arrived, you chose to only argue about the things that you could have changed her mind about.

“I don’t think it matters what I wear,” you said, your arms crossed over your chest as you watched the several pairs of tights and sweatpants fly out of the closet in reckless abandon as Inna looked for a gold mine. “I’m going to be uncomfortable anyway.”

You couldn’t see her when she had her head in the pile of your clothes, but her voice made the smirk on her lips obvious, “I’m sure he will find a way to make you feel more comfortable there.”

“We’ll only stay there for a little bit,” you said. “We were supposed to return here later. Although, I’m not sure if that’s still happening.”

“Oh!” Inna jumped up, momentarily forgetting about her stylist career. She wasn’t just smirking anymore, she was full-on grinning now, teeth and all. “So, you’ll be coming back to your place later? That calls for a whole different outfit.”

You didn’t realize what she was implying right away.

“We—what do you—oh,” you said, her words hitting you with a wave of hotness that forced your hands to guard your flushed face from her. “Inna, no. You know I don’t like those parties, we just agreed to go there for a little bit, and then watch a movie or something back here.”

“Right, of course,” she nodded and you thought she was relenting but, really, you should have known better as she teased, “that’s why they call it Netflix and Chill, babe.”

“I know you can’t see my eyes,” you said, your hands still on your face, “but I’m glaring at you right now.”

“Here,” she said, picking up a black off-the-shoulder blouse and a velvet burgundy mini skirt – you’d bought them both when you and Inna had lunch at the mall on your first weekend on campus and you hadn’t worn the outfit once – and tossing it for you right as you peeked at her through the gaps between your fingers. The blouse hit you in the chest but you caught it before it fell to the floor. “Now is the perfect time to wear this.”

She didn’t hide the offense in her voice – she was the one who had picked the skirt out for you – as she was evidently still bitter that you’d never even tried it on, aside from that one time in the changing room.

“I thought I’d just go in a sweater,” you said – which was very bold, considering that Inna looked ready to tackle you for wasting her time – and then lamely tried to explain your reasoning, “it’s chilly today.”

“You’ll wear that,” she ordered with an aggressive nod at the clothes in your hands, “and if you’re cold, you’ll ask Jungkook for his jacket.”

“What if he doesn’t wear a jacket?”

“Then you’ll ask for his shirt,” she said and smiled at her own impressive wit. “A win-win situation, really.”

You were going to protest again and Inna knew it, too, so, before you could even open your mouth, she closed the door of your closet – as much as the haphazardly thrown clothes allowed it to close – and stood facing you, her arms crossed and legs parted in a threatening manner.

“Put it on,” she demanded. “I will not leave until I know you’re going to that party in something that’s not sweats. If I miss my bus, it’s on you.”

Inna did not miss her bus – but barely, as she jumped around your dorm for ten minutes straight, in awe over how perfectly the skirt she’d picked out fit you and how “fascinating” (that one’s a direct quote) it made your legs look – and, then, before you knew it, you were waiting for Jungkook to come pick you up all by yourself.

You felt nervous. Granted, you’d felt somewhat worried the whole day today – which wasn’t very unusual, you liked to get your worrying started in advance – but, with Inna here, you’d held yourself together. Now your hands shook—trembled, really—as you sprayed some perfume on your wrists before rubbing them together.

Many things about tonight bothered you: you didn’t want to put up an act for half of the campus – especially not for the people who cared about Jungkook so much, they screeched and ran in the opposite direction when he crashed his car – and you also didn’t want to have to deal with whatever consequences the combination of alcohol and Jungkook would bring.

The first time you saw him drunk, he drove into a pole. The second time – he went home with a different girl, nevermind that he may have been looking for you. You were afraid that the third time could have been the charm – one last hurrah before something finally put an end to your friendship.

But most of all, you were afraid of you and him being there together, because your last conversation hadn’t exactly gone smoothly and now you didn’t know what to expect.

At first, you were almost looking forward to tonight as much as Inna was, especially since Jungkook was ready to leave the party early so you could spend some time together in a place where you felt more comfortable. But then he seemed to take all of his words back with one single phrase.

The only thing that “really mattered” about you and him, was that his parents believed you were together.

You always considered the worst case scenarios – just to prepare yourself – but they seemed limitless tonight as you weren’t sure what to make of his words and which side of him to prepare for: the side that did want to spend time with you and wasn’t afraid to say so, or the other side.

But you wouldn’t have had the time to prepare for tonight even if you did know what to expect; Jungkook -- and all of his sides -- was already here.

When the knock came, you needed at least half a minute to calm your breathing before you finally felt collected enough to open the door.

“Hey,” Jungkook said as soon as he heard the lock turn, sounding out of breath as if he’d ran all the way up the stairs. “Your RA—not a very nice guy—didn’t want me to come in��had to—”

“You ran away from him?” you asked, opening the door properly so he could come inside before the RA came running after him. However, with the door fully open, your outfit was suddenly in full-view for Jungkook and he froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“I—oh, you look really, uh, g-great,” he said, lifting his eyes back to your face – as if to check if this was really you – before sliding them down your body again in a way that you’ve never seen him do before. It didn’t mean that he’d never checked you out before – because, oh, he had – you were just never aware of it. “The dark colors go really well with—well, everything.”

“Thanks,” you said, crossing your arms as you moved to a side. You wanted to give him a compliment in return but could not find the words because the black cargo pants and the ripped jean jacket he’d worn tonight was not much different from any other outfit he’d worn before, and yet, you still hard a hard time looking away. “Come in while I grab my bag.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course,” he slipped inside, eyes still on you – his feet tripping over the threshold just slightly – as he closed the door after himself.

You walked over to your bed to grab your phone with the intention of putting it in the handbag that you had thrown over the open door of your bedroom. But when you turned around, phone in hand, Jungkook was standing right in front of you and your nose almost smashed right into his chest.

“Oh,” you blinked, the close proximity nearly throwing you off balance and Jungkook’s hands were already reaching for your waist to steady you on your feet.

You swore you would have suffocated if he’d touched you right then but he realized he’d entered your personal space as soon as he felt your shaky breath wash off on his own face.

In his defense, he’d only walked so near because the smell of your perfume pulled him in – he didn’t mean to cross any boundaries – but, standing so close, he could see the alarm in your eyes. Clearing his throat, he took a step back and gave you an encouraging smile as you slowly walked past him.

He tried not to think of the expression on your face – wary, yet expectant – when you saw how close he was, but he was glad you lingered by the door as you checked the contents of your bag.

“Ready to go?” he asked as soon as you clicked the lock on the handbag and turned around.

You were not ready to go because even though he stood several feet away from you now, his presence still lingered all around you and you could still smell his cologne. You could almost taste the mint strawberry gum he always kept in his car.

Your head was swimming with the feeling of him.

You’d been afraid of tonight and yet you hadn’t realized just how challenging it was really going to be.

“Yeah, we can go,” you said, not pausing to give him a look as you opened the door and waited for him to follow you out of the room. “If the RA hasn’t called the police yet.”

“Ah, shit. He’d do that?” Jungkook asked, more curious than worried about getting fined for being here without an entrance pass – he couldn’t really bring himself to care because it all seemed worth it.

You stopped in the hallway as you closed the door. Surprisingly, your hands had stopped shaking – it was your heart that was restless now.

“He’s done it before,” you said, fumbling with the lock. “But, in that case, we had a squatter and he’d just discovered her three months after she moved in, so he was understandably angry.”

“Well, I haven’t moved in yet,” Jungkook said carelessly, not realizing how your heart decided to skip a beat at the word yet. “And, not to mention, I’ve been here before and he’s never stopped me from coming up.”

“He would have if he knew how much time you wasted sitting in this hallway,” you said, double-checking if the door was really locked and then joining him on the way to the elevator.

Jungkook stuffed his hands into his pockets after he pressed the elevator button.

“I didn’t waste time,” he said. “I was waiting for you.”

The elevator door opened. Your chest did too as your heart rose to your throat.

“I-I mean, you could have waited at home,” you said, walking into the cabin before him and leaning against the mirror. The mixed signals he was sending you made you dizzy.

“You weren’t answering my calls,” he reminded you, pressing the ‘L’ on the dashboard and sheepishly glancing at your reflection. “And, in any case, doesn’t he know who I am?”

You raised your eyebrows at the arrogant expression on his face. Jungkook noticed your look but proceeded anyway.

“No one else has this problem,” he said, “I’m welcome everywhere.”

“You’re making tonight very difficult for me,” you told him.

“What? I’m not trying to show off,” he said, showing off. “I’m just saying.”

You chose not to play his game anymore as you shook your head and hypothesized, “maybe he’s just worried about how often he sees you here. I can talk to him.”

“Good. Because he’s going to have to get used to the blessing that is me,” Jungkook said, extending a hand for you when the two of you stepped out of the elevator in the lobby, the RA nowhere in sight, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You weren’t certain what he expected you to do – surely he didn’t mean for you to hold his hand right now, before you even got to the party? – so you watched his palm for several moments, involuntarily tracing the branches on it with your eyes.

“Well, come on,” he encouraged, taking your hand himself when it became clear that you weren’t going to do anything. “I parked my car out front. And before you say anything – yes, I do know that parking here is for residents only. If anyone asks, I live here.”

“I—” your mind was still listening to him say he wasn’t going anywhere, so it took you a few moments to find your next words and, in that time, Jungkook had already guided you out of the lobby and into the crisp evening.

“I’m pretty sure everyone knows where you live,” you said.

A smirk appeared on his lips but, this time, Jungkook chose not to gloat (too much) about the fact that he was a Parental Advisory member.

“Not your RA,” he countered instead, pressing a button on his car key. A pleasant click informed you that the car had unlocked. “He looked like he’s never listened to anything that’s not Verdi.”

“He actually plays a lot of Liszt in our second-floor lounge room,” you said. “There’s a piano there.”

“That just proves my point, if anything,” Jungkook stopped in front of his car and opened the passenger door for you, casually leaning against the vehicle while he waited for you to climb inside – it was almost unbelievable how easily he managed to act like all was normal.

In all truth, Jungkook found his laid-back attitude hard to believe as well because, inside of his chest, there were hundreds of explosions happening – thousands, actually, when the evening breeze lifted your skirt higher up your thighs – and only half of them were caused by the way you looked tonight. The other half were the result of holding your hand.

“Alright,” he said after having circled the car to enter it through the driver’s side. “Keep me updated on your mood so I know when you want to go home, yeah?”

“I—” you started to say, wanting to let him know that he didn’t have to worry about taking you home, but Jungkook beat you to it.

“If you say you want to go right now, I swear—”

“No, I was just—well, actually…” you looked at him with glitter in your eyes – and if you’d really meant it, he would have taken you home right then and there – and a teasing smile. “No, I was going to say that I don’t want you to feel pressured to leave with me. I promise to stay for a little bit, but you can stay for however long you—”

“I only want to stay for as long as you’re staying,” he said and you thanked the God that the sound of the car engine coming to life drowned out the loud beats of your heart. “We agreed to get back to your place and hang out there, didn’t we?”

“We did. But then—”

“Did you change your mind?” he asked with a quick glance at you before he turned to the rear-view mirror to back out of the parking lot. “Do you not want to spend time with me anymore?”

It was absurd that he was the one asking you this.

“I do want to spend time with you,” you said.

“Well, I should hope so,” he replied, the arrogant smirk now back on his lips again. “I doubt there are better alternatives than me on this campus.”

“Probably not,” you said, rolling your eyes, and then biting, “but only because Inna left to go home tonight.”

Jungkook would have let you know how this wounded his impossibly huge ego if his mind hadn’t drifted elsewhere as soon as you said this.

“Oh,” he spoke, turning out of the parking lot and into the street. “So you have the place all to yourself, huh?”

You raised your eyebrows when you turned to look at him. “You could not have sounded more like a typical college boy as you said this.”

Jungkook smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I am a typical college boy.”

You smirked. “I thought you were only one of a kind.”

He gave you a proud look – completely ignoring the mocking undertones in your voice – before returning his eyes to the road as he drove towards his house.

“I am, of course,” he said. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

Much to your – and Jungkook’s – surprise, the party ended up not being so bad, after all. Initially, you thought you’d have to come up with a way to leave after an hour, but several hours have passed now, and you had to admit, you were genuinely enjoying yourself here.

At the beginning, you couldn’t quite get comfortable – all because you could feel everyone’s stares on the two of you when you arrived hand-in-hand – but when you finished a few drinks, the people in the room no longer seemed as strange and threatening.

Jungkook helped you ease your discomfort by refusing to leave you alone – and making his close presence seem so casual, it was as if his parents were, indeed, here, watching you two play a relationship – but even when you finally convinced him to find his bandmates and say hi to them, you still didn’t feel too out-of-place.

You felt relaxed, actually. Excited. And maybe a little irrational or else you wouldn’t have found yourself on the couch next to Brock – the well-known social climber, dead-set on beating Jungkook in terms of campus popularity – discussing your plans for the summer.

“I want to spend at least a few weeks at home with my family,” you were telling him as you toyed with the edges of your third—or was it fourth?—drink tonight, “but only if I pass all of my finals at the top of the class. Or else I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“They’re that hard on you, huh?” Brock nodded knowingly – for someone who seemed so shallow when you first heard about him, he sure had a lot of empathy – and took a sip of his own drink.

“They’re alright,” you said, swallowing the remaining alcohol in your cup. “Although my roommate thinks they’re robots.”

“Oh, your roommate has met them?” he asked.

“I brought her over once,” you explained. “I do that with friends, usually, but only if we’re really close. Most people don’t handle the judgmental looks on my parents’ faces too well.”

“I see,” Brock said but only to win himself more time to find the right way to ask you this, “so, uh, has Jungkook met them?”

“My parents?” you asked. And then, not thinking about it, added, “of course. He met them a long time ago.”

Brock raised his eyebrows in evident surprise. It dawned on you then – albeit slowly – that he didn’t know how long you and Jungkook knew each other. Actually, probably no one at this party knew – you spent the majority of your time at university pretending Jungkook didn’t exist.

“So, you’ve been together for a while then?” Brock questioned.

His eyes didn’t give it away but you were sober enough to understand how this could have been a trick question: Jungkook was probably sleeping around with other girls before you started to talk again, so defining a clear timeline of your relationship was crucial or else you were going to fall down the spiral of “cheating” rumors.

“Uh… no,” you said, choosing to play dumb. “Not very long.”

“So, he met your parents before you started dating?”

“Yeah. My dad’s a teacher,” you said, which was the truth, so you didn’t completely lie, and Brock’s lips parted. You could almost see the puzzle pieces click together in his brain.

“Oh, I would not want to spend the summer with my parents if one of them was a teacher,” he said with a chuckle. You gave him a tell-me-about-it-look and scanned the room for another drink. “Are you going to be on campus during the rest of the summer?”

“Uh, probably, yeah,” you said. “I’d like to get an internship somewhere close, so I could live at the dorm.”

“Busy girl,” Brock said in a way that sounded more condescending than affectionate. His company no longer seemed so pleasant – you definitely needed another drink – but he didn’t seem to pick up on your emotions, “I know that Jungkook is probably going to be on campus as well but, um,” he scooted closer to you on the couch – just a little but enough for his knee to touch yours, “if he’s away, I could maybe show you—”

You didn’t hear what was it that he was going to show you because someone landed on the armrest of the couch right behind you. The smell of alcohol was the first thing you registered, but then you picked up the scent of the cologne, too, and you didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Jungkook.

“I’m back,” he spoke into your ear – whispered, actually -- sending an excited shiver down your spine. “I brought you something to try. It’s—”

It was a drink. Finally.

“Thanks,” you cut him off, not really thinking much of the pale green liquid in the half-empty shot glass and downing it all in one go. You frowned when the drink reached your throat, going down with a fiery resistance.

Jungkook noticed your grimace as you swallowed. He placed a protective hand on your back – and then shot Brock a warning look which prompted the boy to return to his previous spot on the other end of the couch – as you coughed, not really enjoying the anise-flavored travesty he’d brought you.

“You okay?” Jungkook asked, concerned.

“Mmhmm,” you replied, your esophagus still burning, “n-not a fan of absinthe. Have you been—” you paused to inhale through your mouth, cherishing every bit of cold air, “—drinking this the whole night?”

“Yeah, he basically drinks that shit raw,” Brock answered instead, somehow happy to see Jungkook bring you this much discomfort. “And it still takes him a while to get drunk.”

“I haven’t been,” Jungkook answered your question, deliberately ignoring everything the other boy had just said. “Taehyung broke out a bottle he’d brought back from France. Do you want me to get you some water?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” you replied, inhaling a few more times and then clearing your throat for good measure. “It just took me off-guard, that’s all—”

You ended up not finding the end of your sentence as Jungkook slid down the armrest and landed on the couch next to you, his arms sneaking around your waist as he pulled your body closer to his. Your heart would have most likely stopped if the shot of absinthe hadn’t released all this adrenaline into your bloodstream.

“I’m sorry,” he said into your hair – the close proximity and the quiet tone of his voice had quickly cut off all signals from the synapses inside your brain – and cuddled into you until he found a more comfortable position. “I would have warmed—warned you if you’d have given me a chance.”

He was obviously drunk and tongue-tied – but that was nothing new. What was new, however, was this affection, as he held on to you as if you were both stranded on a stray piece of wood in the ocean and he was afraid you were going to slide off into the water and die.

“T-that’s okay,” you said with a nervous chuckle, figuring that he was only doing this to prove a point that you were dating. But no one seemed to care; this far into the party, everyone was either making out with someone or dancing their lives away – except for Brock who was actively trying not to look at you two.

“Hmm,” Jungkook exhaled slowly for no reason other than to see the skin on the nape of your neck shiver from his breath. He wasn’t drunk enough to miss the effect he had on you, but he was far too drunk to be able to hold himself back from deliberately affecting you this way.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” you asked, not uncomfortable in his arms per se, but certainly tense – even more so when you finally concluded that he was holding you like this specifically because Brock was here.

“Not much,” Jungkook replied, still as quiet as before. He shot the boy across the couch a glance so full of spite, you would have believed him to be completely sober if you’d seen him do it.

Brock only rolled his eyes in response, ready to say something to you but instead, he was forced to watch you strain your neck as you tried to look at Jungkook, his grip on your waist not loosening.

“Really? Because you seem really drunk,” you told Jungkook, your voice no longer passive.

He snickered – you felt his abdomen muscles move against your back as he did – and, purposefully staring right Brock in the eyes, he said, “I’m only drunk on you.”

If he wanted to see you squirm, he would have succeeded, but his grip on you was too tight for you to move. Pressing your lips together, you touched his knee with your hand in a warning manner. You didn’t like being caught in the middle of a purposeless war of masculinity.

“Maybe it’s time we left, then,” you suggested. He worshiped the disappointment that appeared on Brock’s face after you said this.

“Yeah?” Jungkook asked – but he didn’t have to, he was just trying to win some more time to hold you close to him like this – and then, slowly unwrapping his arms from your waist, he said, “I’ll run to say bye to the guys, okay? It’ll only be one second. Meet you by the door?”

“Sure, yeah. Take your time. I’ll stop by the bathroom before we go,” you said, craving some cold water on your face – and not just because of the lingering fire in your throat – as Jungkook released you and stood up, leaving an unnaturally cold sensation behind you, where his body had been.

He walked off quickly, his grin only widening when he glanced at you over his shoulder and saw you stand up and walk away from the couch without saying a word to Brock.

What Jungkook didn’t see, however, was how -- as soon as he rounded the corner to enter the kitchen where his bandmates were searching for sugar cubes for their ridiculous absinthe ritual -- Brock leaped from his seat and grabbed your hand, stopping you from walking away.

“Hey,” he said, pulling away when he felt you flinch in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—uh, you headed home, then?”

“Yeah,” you said, taking your hand back and hiding it behind your back in defense. “It was nice talking to you.”

“It really was!” he said, a little too enthusiastically. “Which is why I was wondering if you were free anytime soon. So we could talk again, maybe? I just don’t want this to be the only time I get to hang out with you. I felt like we had a real connection. You know?”

You didn’t. You thought he wasn’t a terrible person to talk to, but you could only tolerate him in small doses.

“Mmhmm. Well, we live on the same campus,” you said, trying to smile politely as you made your way towards the bathroom. Much to your disappointment – and horror – Brock fell into step with you. “I’m sure we will, uh, see each other around.”

“Yeah? Where do you usually hang out? When you’re not with Jungkook, I mean.”

As far away from you as possible, was going to be your answer if he wasn’t going to let you walk away from him.

“Everywhere,” you said and then decided to make yourself sound less available, “or nowhere, actually. I prefer to stay home. With my roommate.”

“I like to stay home, too,” he said. You doubted that very much – unless staying home meant throwing parties at the million-dollar mansion that his parents had purchased for him. “You think we could do that together some time?”

You could distinctly recall the way your heart sped up when Jungkook suggested nearly the same thing one time. Brock’s words seemed to have a completely opposite effect on you, however, as you desperately looked for a way out of the situation and were almost prepared to use the golden I-have-a-boyfriend excuse – which could have been true for all that Brock knew – when he spoke again.

“Just you and me,” he clarified. “You could text me when Jungkook is away.”

Now, if only he could have survived five seconds without bringing Jungkook up – further proving to you that this was all about Brock showing everyone that he was better – maybe you would have stopped and considered this – although you doubted that, too – but now you didn’t even hesitate before you clicked your tongue.

“Don’t you think that’s inappropriate?” you asked.

He clearly didn’t as he retorted, “why?”

“Because this is something that you wouldn’t suggest if he was here,” you explained. “And I don’t really want to go behind his back and plan some secret tête-à-têtes.”

You gave him a smile – instead of saying goodbye – and were already reaching for the handle of the bathroom door when he grabbed your hand again. This time, when you turned to look at him, you didn’t bother to hide the irritation in your eyes.

“You misunderstand me,” Brock said, very matter-of-fact but still wary as he let go of your hand. Good. You were going to need it when you inevitably smacked him across the face. “I’m not implying anything. I just genuinely liked talking to you and would like to do it again without anyone bothering us. If you don’t think Jungkook’s going to allow you to see me, I can talk to him about—”

“No,” you said sharply. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything. It’s my decision. And I said no.”

Brock watched your eyes for a moment, intrigued by how strict they looked.

“Okay,” he said then. “Got it.”

You nodded and, almost tripping over your own feet in your hurry, you finally tore yourself away from the party by entering the bathroom and locking the door.

Alone at last, you exhaled and walked over to the sink, choosing not to look at your reflection in the mirror out of fear of dissociating even more – you already felt disoriented enough.

Washing your hands with cold water and then dabbing wet fingertips under your eyes and down the sides of your face felt refreshing, but it wasn’t enough to stop your heart from working overtime – courtesy of Jungkook and Brock, and their passive-aggressive battle to show the other one who was better.

You weren’t sure what you were more frustrated with: the fact that Jungkook’s touch affected you so much or the fact that he only seemed to touch you to show off to Brock. Obviously, you’d come here to establish your relationship in front of your peers but, considering that Jungkook tried to treat this whole thing as a sort of business deal, only worrying about his parents’ opinion, his actions tonight seemed over the top.

Not to mention, you could have handled Brock yourself. He was the first person who talked to you at this party and he probably only did because he’d seen you arrive with Jungkook, and, just like with everything else, he was determined to replace him. Naturally, Jungkook -- never one to back down from a challenge -- wanted to put Brock in his place.

This really irked you – you liked to be in charge of your own life and hated having to rely on others to do things for you. Jungkook should have known that.

But although you were irritated, you didn’t feel like starting an argument and then potentially having to deal with dead bodies. However, right after you decided to leave the party quietly, your mythical sixth sense picked up a bad vibe and your stomach dropped – all just a second before you heard deep grunts of struggle from behind the door of the bathroom.

For just a split second, you hoped that this commotion didn’t involve Jungkook but all of that hope vanished when one of the voices yelled, “who the fuck do you think you are?” and you recognized the undeniable tenor of your childhood friend.

Cursing under your breath, you shut the water off and, not even bothering to find a towel, walked out of the room with your hands still dripping.

You felt hopeful yet again when you saw the almost empty living room – maybe they stopped fighting – but that hope disappeared soon enough, too, when a tirade of cuss words reached you from the kitchen, followed by the sound of skin slapping against skin, muscle against muscle.

Following the sound, you clenched your hands into fists and tried to brace yourself for whatever you were about to witness. And, just like you expected, a group of spectators – always thirsty for some violence – was watching Jungkook hold Brock by the collar of his shirt.

Brock – who was obviously enjoying the attention of the whole party – snarled something that provoked Jungkook to throw another punch to the side of his face. Brock’s whole head twisted to a side and, roughly pushing Jungkook off of himself until his back hit the fridge, Brock spat the blood out onto the kitchen floor.

“Jungkook!” you called out before they turned this whole house into a boxing ring. He heard you – his eyes drifted to the group of people watching him – but he couldn’t see you through the crowd.

Cursing again, you tried to push past the people even if it involved losing sight of the two boys – you could hear the fight carry on as they slammed each other against furniture – until you finally reached the kitchen island and saw Jungkook carelessly hurl Brock on top of it, his head nearly hitting the marble tabletop.

“Jungkook, for fuck’s sake,” you snapped.

It was hard to say if he heard you this time, because one of Brock’s hands broke free and roughly pushed Jungkook’s chest. The boy stumbled backwards, hitting the cupboard behind him with a loud groan as empty plastic cups scattered all over the tabletop and rolled to the floor.

Recovering immediately, Jungkook lunged for Brock again – but this time you were there to interrupt them.

Grabbing Jungkook’s wrist as soon as he swung his hand back to prepare a punch, you finally got him to tear his eyes away from the opponent and give you a frenzied look.

“That’s enough,” you said, all out of breath as if it was you that’s been in a fight. “You made your point.”

Brock rolled off the kitchen island and coughed loudly as he dusted his shirt off. When you turned your head – both of your hands still gripping Jungkook’s raised fist, even if he was no longer planning to punch anything with it – you saw that Brock’s lip was bleeding, his left eye was starting to swell, and various hues of dark purple decorated the right side of his face.

Jungkook looked better in comparison to him – at least, from what you could see – although his cheekbones were clearly bruised, the skin irritated and bright red.

“You need to learn how to take a fucking joke,” Brock spat just as you let go of Jungkook. Immediately, he jumped past you, seemingly ready to knock Brock out.

Brock stumbled backwards, not yet prepared to defend himself against Jungkook again, but he didn’t have to do anything because you’d sneaked under Jungkook’s raised arms and pressed both of your hands into his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Jungkook,” you told him, knowing you had to remain calm in order to make progress, but struggling as fury boiled inside your veins.

Jungkook looked at you, his nostrils still flaring, but his anger dissipating as quickly as it had ignited. He took a step back until you no longer had a hold on him, and snarled at Brock, “you’re a fucking joke. Let’s go.”

The last part was directed at you, obviously, as Jungkook turned around. Knowing how quickly he could change his mind, you took his hand in yours just to make sure he didn’t knock anyone unconscious on his way out of the house.

Everything was already so surreal, you were glad he was clutching your hand so tight it almost hurt, or else you’d have thought you were dreaming. But then, to make this even more hard to believe, Jungkook exited the house and made a beeline for his car.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, stopping and thus pulling him to a stop, too.

“We’re getting out of here,” he shot back as he finished climbing the few remaining porch steps. You remained at the top. “I’m driving you home.”

You could have laughed at the absurdity.

“You are not driving,” you said, resisting his pull as he tried to get you to climb down the steps. “You’re wasted. Do you not realize that?”

“I don’t—”

“First, you need to sit down,” you told him and lowered yourself until you were sitting on the porch, your feet resting on the lowest step.

Jungkook held your hand and watched you, frozen.

“Sit,” you repeated, making it sound more like an order this time.

“I need to get out of here,” he said, growing frustrated with your need to mediate between him and his obvious anger issues. “I’m not fucking sitting—”

“Well, you’re not getting behind the wheel of a car, either,” you cut him off, pulling his hand down.

He still resisted. “I’m fine. Let go of me.”

“Sit.”

“I’m not fucking sitting down, for fuck’s—!”

“Then stop acting like a fucking lunatic and get a grip on yourself!” you yelled, all patience gone as you jumped to your feet. “You’re drunk whether you realize it or not. You can’t drive yourself, let alone someone else, and you’re fucking out of your mind with anger. So, sit your ass down and fucking breathe. Or else I’m calling the police to get you arrested. Maybe that will get through your thick head.”

Scolded to the point where he almost felt embarrassed, Jungkook mumbled something incoherent and sat down.

“God, you truly never grew up,” you said with an exasperated sigh as you plopped back down next to him. “Always looking for different ways to get your adrenaline fix.”

He groaned, leaning forwards as he rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands.

You wanted to ask him what was it that Brock had said that provoked him to start a fight -- because you had no doubt that Jungkook was the one who threw the first punch -- but decided against it. You didn’t want Jungkook to fire up again.

And so, you sat in silence for a little while – you, fuming, and Jungkook, trying to control his breathing – until he finally sat up straight and dared to look at you. Your eyes were set firmly on the grass, swaying freely in the night wind.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook asked.

Your face didn’t even twitch as you countered, “what do you think?”

“At me?” he tried again.

“What do you think?”

He swallowed. “What did I do wrong?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Do you seriously have to ask me that?”

“Yes,” he said, knowing that he was going to get a lecture but needing to hear it in order to properly defend himself. “Obviously.”

“You got into a fight with Brock,” you said because it was this simple.

“Yeah,” Jungkook confirmed pointlessly and then said with a prideful undertone, “because he deserved to get punched.”

He did not seem to regret it in the slightest and would have probably done it again if he went back inside the house – that’s what scared you the most about this. You may as well have been talking to a wall.

“But that’s exactly what he wants—” you tried, but Jungkook cut you off.

“To get punched?” he asked.

“No—to get a reaction out of you,” you explained, more patient now that it looked like he was finally starting to listen to you, “he wants people to talk shit about you.”

Then, surprising you, Jungkook said, “I know.”

It took you a moment to grasp that he knew the consequences his actions would have, and that made his decisions all the more self-destructive.

“So,” you took a breath, “why do you do this?”

You were scared of his answer but instead of sounding like a lost cause, he just sounded aggressively nihilistic.

“Why not?” he retorted, shrugging one of his shoulders. “What do I have to lose? At least they’re talking about me. About us.”

If he’d asked you – really asked you, not just rhetorically – you’d have told him about all the things he would have lost if he kept this up. But he didn’t ask because he didn’t think there was an answer – a meaningful answer – that would have been worth the change in attitude.

He was simply convinced he didn’t have anything worth to keep: not his relationship with his parents, and not even what remained of his own reputation.

“Well, yes, but what they’re saying isn’t doing us…” you started to say but felt yourself hit a dead-end. You were a conformist. He, clearly, wasn’t. But it wasn’t for you to decide which one of you was right when it came to dealing with campus rumors. “Anyway. That was wrong. You know fighting is wrong. You end up getting hurt.”

“He’s the one who picked a fight with me as soon as you walked away,” Jungkook mumbled childishly.

“That doesn’t mean you’re any less guilty,” you stated. “You were acting weird around him before the fight, so, in a way, you brought it upon yourself.”

Jungkook looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “When did I act weird?”

You looked away. “When you brought me that shot of absinthe.”

“What do you mean?” he asked but he knew what you meant. “I was just letting him know that we were dating. Letting everyone know that we were—”

“Right but everyone got that when we arrived together,” you spoke as soon as your face started to grow warmer from the memory of you and him on that couch, “and none of that even matters, anyway, remember? Your parents aren’t here. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he said.

You paused. Then asked, “what?”

“I wanted to touch you,” Jungkook clarified. “Is that wrong?”

For a minute, you couldn’t remember if you thought that was wrong or not when he put it like that.

“It’s—” you said and then swallowed, thanking the cold breeze that raised goosebumps on your bare legs for distracting you from his intoxicating words. You had completely sobered up when you had to break up that fight and you’d have liked to remain clear-minded. “Well, if you’re doing it to mark your territory like some dog, then yeah. It’s wrong. It’s disrespectful to me.”

“I wasn’t trying to mark my territory.”

“It felt like you were.”

Sighing, he caved, even though he hated the accusation, “alright, maybe I was, a little. But Brock needed to know that he was never going to get to touch you like that.”

“Ah,” you smiled humorlessly, “and you get that privilege, right?”

“I—well, didn’t we come here to show off?”

“We did, supposedly. But…”

Your voice faded because you realized that one of the biggest reasons why it felt like he’d crossed the line tonight, was because his actions affected you so much. If you hadn’t cared about him the way that you did, you probably wouldn’t have been bothered by the methods he chose to prove the authenticity of your relationship.

Sure, he could have been less possessive, but you knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t trying to offend you. And yet you couldn’t let this go without standing up for yourself – especially not after he tried to take back every single one of his confessions the last time you’d talked to him.

“We weren’t supposed to do it like that,” you said, sounding a little more confident now. “I just felt like you went too far. Brock wasn’t worth it.”

“There’s a dozen others like Brock at that party,” Jungkook pointed out.

You scoffed. “Right. Even if there are, the only reason why they’d want me is so they could brag about stealing Jungkook’s girl.”

“No, it’s—is that the only reason why you think these guys want you?” he looked at you as he asked this, almost appalled that you would reduce your own impact to this level.

“They don’t—” you started to say with a shake of your head but that was enough for Jungkook.

“They do,” he countered, cutting you off, “and it’s not because you came with me. It’s because you’re you,” he didn’t mean to scan you from head to toe with his eyes as he said this but self-control was not one of his strong suits.

You had your objections but, at the same time, you were able to understand that arguing about this would have been pointless. Your knowledge about how men functioned came from text-books and observations, while his came from personal experience. You’d never see eye-to-eye about this.

“Why do you care about those other guys?” Jungkook asked after you didn’t reply.

“I—I don’t,” you said, still distracted by your own thoughts. “But you clearly do.”

“Of course, I do,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “They want you.”

You looked at him. “So, even if they do, why does it matter?”

“It matters because they can’t have you,” he said, “and they need to know that.”

“Know what?”

“That you’re mine.”

Your hands went numb and the fabric of your skirt that you’d been playing with started to feel foreign – fake, even – so you dropped it and took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around your midriff instead.

“I get that we’re playing a relationship,” you said, quieter than you probably should have, “but I’m not a trophy that you can brag about when you feel like it.”

“You might as well be,” he said, not intending to make it sound like you were some decoration, but realizing how it could have been interpreted precisely like that, “maybe ‘trophy’ wasn’t the right word. I mean that you are something—someone—to brag about. Because I’m proud to call you min—m-my, uh, fake-girlfriend. My friend. I’m proud of who you are. Proud of what you’d achieved. Proud of the way you can call me out on my bullshit and put me in my place—”

You did not acknowledge his slip-up with the label of your relationship – because he was drunk – scoffing instead, “there’s no way in hell you’re proud of that last one.”

“No, no, I am,” he nodded for more effect. “No one has the patience to deal with my shit. But you do.”

You went quiet again, your head spinning. The buzz of the alcohol had mostly worn off but you were unable to find a way to reply to him, and you chose to blame the drinks you’d had for that.

“Don’t do that again, okay?” you ended up saying.

Your thoughts ran a little too fast for him to keep up. “Do what?”

“Get into fights,” you said. “Act irrationally to prove a point.”

“Me hugging you was completely rational,” he said, bringing it up with such ease, it was like he was a completely different person now.

“You know what I mean,” you said. “Don’t treat me like an object. Especially, since it doesn’t change anything with your parents.”

“I wasn’t trying to--w-why are you bringing my parents into this?”

“Because of the other night?” you said, thinking it was obvious. “You were completely dismissive about this – a-about us – and you basically said that—”

“I know what I said,” he cut you off, looking down at the wooden steps of the porch. He remembered. “I didn’t mean that.”

So, here’s the answer, then: he didn’t mean that. But something – fear, insecurity, uncertainty – had still made him reduce your relationship to just an act for his parents.

“Okay,” you said, hesitating. “But we’d agreed to tell each other the truth. So, don’t—don’t say things you don’t mean. Not when it’s just us alone.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nodded, a promise on his lips, “I’ll think before I act from now on.”

You scrunched your nose, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. “Will you, really?”

He considered it, then rephrased himself, “I’ll try to think before I act.”

That got you to smile. “That’s better. Thank you.”

Jungkook smiled back and the tension outside of his house seemed to blow away with the wind. Even the night shadows around you suddenly seemed brighter.

“You have to admit, though,” Jungkook said then, “my plan to get Brock to believe we’re dating worked so much better than your diplomatic speech would have.”

“Why do you think I’d have given him a diplomatic speech?” you asked.

“I’ve known you since birth,” he replied, grinning.

“Fair point,” you couldn’t help but snicker. “We’re still doing it my way next time, though.”

“Alright,” he nodded, not really caring about much else except that you said there was going to be a next time. “So, you ready to go home now?”

You’d been ready to go home for a while now.

“I am,” you said,

He stood up. “Let’s go.”

You stood up after him but, once again, hesitated before climbing down the porch steps.

“Actually,” you spoke slowly, “I think I’m going alone.”

Jungkook hadn’t noticed that you weren’t following him as he headed towards the pavement across the front yard. He stopped at the sound of your distant voice and turned around.

“What?”

“Yeah,” you said, making your way towards him. “You stay here. Stay out of fights and—”

He was shaking his head. “If you think I’m going to let you go home alone, you’re—”

“If you think I need your permission to—”

“Okay, sorry, my bad,” he lifted his hands in a defensive manner that interrupted you. “I didn’t choose my words well. But my point stands. You’re not going home alone.”

You looked away with a sigh.

“Neither of us can drive,” you said, “and I’m not staying here.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, dismissing your attempt to escape him with a very sarcastic, “oh, and that would sure be tragic if our plans didn’t involve us going back to your place together anyway.”

“I…” you did feel the same pang of excitement in the pit of your stomach as you did when he first suggested you spent more time together at your dorm, but everything that happened since then made you unsure if it was such a good idea, after all. “I feel like going to sleep, actually.”

“Okay,” he didn’t seem bothered by that. “I’m walking you home, then.”

“I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way,” you said.

“I’m sure you are, you’ve walked around campus plenty of times before,” he said, still as witty as ever. “I’m still coming with you.”

“Jungkook…”

“Let me. Please,” he took a step closer to you as he said this and you would have probably let him to do almost anything when you saw the night sky reflected in his eyes. “I don’t want to walk you home so that other people would believe that we’re in a relationship. So that my parents would believe we’re in a relationship. Or because you’re an item I want to show off. I want to walk you home because I want to walk you home.”

You could no longer feel the cold, late-hour wind.

“Okay, fine,” you said, your voice purposefully indifferent and even irritated, just so your real feelings wouldn’t manifest themselves. “Walk me home, then.”

“Way to make it sound like I’m putting you in pain,” Jungkook jabbed.

“You are kind of a pain in my ass, actually,” you pointed out.

“Yeah? Does that pain bother you?”

“Yes, very much,” you glared at him as the two of you crossed the front yard towards the main street where he’d crashed his car weeks ago when you first found each other again. “Keeps me up all night with thoughts about it.”

“Good,” he said with a smirk, walking around you inconspicuously, so that he was on your right side, his body shielding you from the cars that drove past every now and then. One could never know what sort of a drunk lunatic could drive by. “That means my plan has worked.”

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lucky-bucky-boy · 5 years ago

Text

Cruel Summer

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift; You shouldn’t have given in, shouldn’t have caved to him. But what could you say? Some people were just too irresistible. But one too many bad choices lead to tension that even the worst of the worst couldn’t bare.

Word Count: 5473

Warnings: Angst, smut, dom/sub elements, daddy kink, dirty talk, very slight age gap, please let me know if I missed any

A/N: Tags are at the bottom. Please please please let me know what you think, this writing style is a bit out of my comfort zone. I’m trying some new things out before writing my book and really need all the feedback possible. Positive and constructive please. NO spoilers, taking place before the events of Knives Out, age difference of Meg and Ransom was skewed to fit timeline/idea // Read on AO3 here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs welcomed and highly appreciated!

The wintery chill of the evening Massachusetts air threatened to seep in, blowing harshly against the windowpanes and spinning it’s way through every bare branch and thickly coated pine tree on the property. A typical monthly gathering of family and those like family, a gun show and jab contest dressed up to look like a quiet evening around the fire with loved ones and good food.

Gazes darted around the room, a tension so palpable it made even the Thrombey family uncomfortable. No one could quite place why though, or even which pair was causing the air to thicken. A typically thin lipped, on edge, cut throat monthly dinner was somehow even more treacherous this time around.

But no one would have guessed that it involved you. Usually revered as the quiet one, the one who steered away from trouble and left before the tension boiled over, the girl who brought bright smiles and a sharp mind, Meg’s best friend since diapers, your father’s accomplished author for a daughter; not one person would have even thought to have blinked an eye in your direction.

But no one in that room knew why the air was so thick you could taste it, why the sound of the metal knives scraping against expensive glass plates was more bearable than breathing in the smog of tension. One wrong move and-

“So, what’s got everyone’s knickers in a twist, huh?” The smug, faux caring, intoxicating drawl that got you in this mess.

The flood gates were open now. Everyone talking over the other, talking louder and louder, unknowingly looking for the cause of the uncomfortable feeling that sat low in their bellies. It didn’t last too long, maybe over a minute before it fell silent enough that you could hear the wind whistling outside.

Even with your gaze downcast to your plate you could feel everyone turn to look at you, eyes judging and calculating, picking apart every move, ever wrinkle in your clothes, and twitch of a muscle.

“You’ve been quiet,” it was your father speaking now, and for the first time you were thankful for that, “What’s new with you, dear? How’s your third book coming along?”

A shrug as you met his gaze, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s coming.” Your tone was practically unreadable, unamused and almost annoyed.

A snicker from the other end of the table had all of you snapping your heads in the direction of the noise. A shit eating grin was plastered on Ransom’s face, eyes glinting with mischief. You tried your damnedest not to notice how the ruby color of his scarf brought out the ocean blues you got lost in too many times, or how the cream color of his worn sweater was practically taunting you with every memory of you in that sweater. But you knew him, you knew him too well for your own liking, for your own good. And you knew he did things with a purpose.

“What’s so funny?” His mother snapped at him, his lips pulling into that smirk that had you at his will one too many times.

“Just never thought I’d hear little ol’ (Y/N) say something along those lines again.”

Pin drop. Silence and shock coursed through every fiber of every person sitting at that table. Confused glances between the two of you, unnerved and in disbelief.

“What the hell, Ransom? Why do you-” Meg started, voice loud and higher than usual in agitation.

But you cut her off, staring back at the man who seemingly was doing whatever he could to get under your skin. “Hugh, if you’ve decided you’re going to tell a story, at least make sure to tell the fucking truth.”

A few hushed gasps echoed around the table as Ransom matched your stare. “Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know that’s not what I like you calling me.”

You scoffed, “You lost the privilege of me calling you what you want the day you told me to leave.”

“As if you didn’t want it just as badly. I seem to recall rather clearly you begging for me.”

“And I seem to recall rather clearly you telling me to get my shit and get the fuck out.” You snapped, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment and agitation. No one was supposed to find out like this, no one was supposed to find out at all.

Ransom stood suddenly, stalking over to you, eyes never leaving yours. He towered over your sitting figure for a moment, trying to melt your resolve before he leaned down, face only inches away from yours. The musky vanilla and cedar scent of his cologne, the mintiness of his breath with a hint of whiskey, the warm scent of clean cotton from his clothes, it was all almost too much. “Let’s get this straight, baby girl,” the nickname was taunting you like a schoolyard insult, “we had an arrangement. That arrangement didn’t involve feelings. You ruined that.”

“Yeah, because me loving you is the worst thing you ever heard.” You stood as well, at your wits end with this situation, with him, “Dumbest mistake of my life was thinking how you felt when you were drunk was how you felt when you were sober. Fuck you, Ransom."

He stood back some, moving out of your way as you grabbed your jacket off of the back of your chair, storming out of the too warm mansion and into the freezing cold. Ransom’s voice followed after you, "Don’t forget you already did, sweetheart.”

Notification after notification, endless vibration making you want to pull your hair out. A long drive home with a clenched jaw and a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. The day couldn’t be over soon enough, an escape from the embarrassment and misery of that excuse of a dinner much too far away for your liking.

The hope that your apartment would have been your ticket to peace and quiet was quickly destroyed when there was banging on the door. A huff as you trudged out of the blankets on the couch to the door, swinging it open to see a distraught Meg.

“What the hell was that about?”

There it went, any bit of resolve and composure went out that front door when she took a step in. Tears quickly welled in your eyes, falling in little streams down your face. The agitation on her face was quickly replaced with worry as she wrapped you in a hug, “Hey, hey, no need for that. Come on. Let’s get you something to drink and then I want you to tell me what that was all about, okay? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on, alright?”

She walked you through the kitchen, making you both a cup of hot tea and grabbing a handful of snacks before steering you back towards the couch, sitting the both of you down. Meg’s eyes filled with relief as she watched you sip at the warm liquid, sniffling softly as you calmed yourself down.

“Okay, start from the beginning. What happened?”

Warm, low lights, a soft thumping from the outdated speakers, a happy, giddy atmosphere floating over the table. A small, cheesy banner sat taped to the edge of the booth, bright tacky colors spelling out “Congratulations”. Two of your friend sat with you in the rounded corner booth, your leg sticking out to the side and bouncing with slight anticipation. Even though you requested a small thing, your beloved friends Shelby and Laura had a hard time doing things small.

But they insisted it wasn’t a lot. Meg was off studying for finals and wouldn’t be able to make it so instead Shelby invited her boyfriend Jay and told him to bring a friend or two along. And not to forget the cake. Their last phone call twenty minutes ago consisted of reiterating the confirmation over and over again. You’re on your way? Awesome great. Who’d you bring? Okay. Did you get the cake? Okay. Don’t forget the cake. Okay. Don’t ruin the cake. Okay you’re sure the cake is okay?

Laura and you couldn’t help but giggle at her, anxiety and anticipation evident in her features as she checked her phone again and again, eyes darting to the entrance waiting for her boyfriend and his friends to enter the hole in the wall bar with that god damn cake.

Excusing yourself to the bathroom seemed to speed up the time because as you returned you nearly tripped over yourself. There was Shelby, cuddled up next to Jay. And Jay had two men sitting next to him, one you didn’t recognize and one you knew all too well. Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

A man you hadn’t seen in easily a year or two. He had began to skip out on family dinners, tired of the endless drama and bore of it all. Even when the family took their yearly vacation together and during the holiday parties he somehow managed to not be anywhere insight, despite his mother insisting he was there.

“Look at you, little (Y/N), all grown up now.” His eyes shamelessly raked over your figure, taking in how your body had changed over the years, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, brat. Since before you published the first book.”

You huffed out an anxious laugh, nodding as you took your seat at the end of the booth, opposite of him. “Y-yeah, it’s been a while. You kinda stopped coming around.”

“Can you blame me? My family would make anyway go insane. I’m surprised yours has stayed around as long as they have. But enough about me, sweetheart, from what I’ve been told we’re here to celebrate you-”

Shelby squealed some, “Yep! And that’s why,” she hung onto the end of the word as she lifted the lid of the box that was now sitting in the center of the table. Once the top was off, the sides fell down, revealing a cake decorated to look like a book with the title of your second book you had just published on it. The whole reason you all were here.

Your heart swelled at the gesture, “Aw! Shelbs! Thank you so much!” You gave her a small little pout, “God I’m gonna cry. I can’t believe I actually did that. Twice now!”

Laughter erupted around the table, the group continuing to shower you in drinks, gifts, and affection. Jay bought you a drink and some food, Laura had gotten you a customized journal with your favorite quote from the book on the front of it, Shelby kept giving you little cards with her favorite things about the books you’ve written in them. It wasn’t long until the group started to dwindle though. First Jay’s other friend who probably felt awkward, then Laura who had to work in the morning.

Ransom and Jay decided to play a round of pool before Jay and Shelby headed out for the night, and Shelby took the time to interrogate you.

“Oh. My. God. He is so fucking hot. How the hell do you know him? You never leave your apartment.” She fawned over Ransom, who currently had his back to the two of you at the other side of the bar.

You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. “First off, you have a boyfriend,” your reprimanded playfully. “Second, that’s Meg’s older cousin. He’s like 4 or 5 years older than us. Spoilt brat. Never worked a day in his life. Third, before you even suggest it because I see that look in your eye. I’m not sleeping with him. I didn’t even let him buy me a drink when he offered let alone going home with him.”

She pouted at you, “Come on, (Y/N/N), you’ve been so stressed with the editing and the publishing. Just have a little fun.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over and grabbing a nacho to throw into your mouth. “The only fun I need after all this is my handy dandy blue vibrator under my bed. No need to go home with him.”

She scoffed. “Fiiiine, whatever. I still think he’s hot.”

The two men came back a few minutes later, laughing loudly and teasing one another. It was odd, rare even to see Ransom genuinely laughing, whole chest vibrating with the motion, genuine happiness seeping off of him. Jay collected his things as did Shelby, both bidding you a goodnight, Shelby throwing a wink in as well as they exited.

“Then there was two,” Ransom drawled, smirking lazily at you as he finished off his drink. “Come on, (Y/N/N), let me buy you a drink.”

You smiled, huffing out a small laugh as you shook your head. “I’m good, Ransom. Really.”

“After all those years of you stealing my stash I’m actually willing to buy you a drink and you’re telling me no?”

You rolled your eyes, butterflies beginning to swarm inside you. “I’m telling you no because I still have at least a thirty minute uber ride home and don’t want to be overly intoxicated. The only thing I want right now it a plate of pancakes and some greasy hash browns.”

“Then let’s go get some,” he offered, a somewhat uncharacteristically sweet smile replacing his smirk. “Look, I haven’t seen you in a while and you just accomplished something so let me at least try to do something nice.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You? Hugh Ransom Drysdale? Do something nice? Oh I must be dead.” He pouted at you, the slight disappointed look in his blue eyes sending you reeling. “Fine. I won’t pass up on an offer like that. Just make sure you take me somewhere good."

Thirty minutes later you sat in a small diner that was essentially in the middle of nowhere. The name GiGi’s was in neon pink light on top the structure that looked like it was plucked out of Grease. A few semi-trucks littered the parking lot and only a couple of faces of customers sat in the diner.

Ransom had already threw you for a loop, opening doors for you, turning the music down to ask you about your book; and not just what it was about, but what inspired you to write it, what was your muse. He had let you pick the seat and even ordered for you when the waitress came over. Two breakfast samplers with extra crispy hash browns, and two strawberry milkshakes because ‘why not? It’ll be just like when we were kids’.

You were beyond shocked at how comfortable you felt around him. No awkwardness or anxiety that had hit you earlier. It was simple, felt easy, felt right.

"So, I have to ask, why are you suddenly being nice to me?” The question was simple enough, lips wrapping around the straw of the milkshake after you asked, watching him and waiting.

“Was I ever not nice to you?” He asked, bemused and quirking an eyebrow at you.

Swallowing down the cold liquid you scoffed. “Seriously? You’ve been a dick to me since I was like 12 or 13. Whenever you started hanging out with that one guy in high school - Chuck? I think. Anyways, it got even worse after you turned 21. You pretty much outright refused to acknowledge my existence."

He pursed his lips as he thought about it, "I- okay yeah, you’re right. I did do that- but in my defense I stopped acknowledging you because I thought you were hot and I was older so it was creepy and just easier to ignore you.”

You blinked a few times, shocked and processing what he had just said, “You what?”

He shrugged, taking a bite of his food. “Yep. And Chuck thought you guys were annoying so I dunno, guess I thought being a dick would keep you guys from pestering me.”

You couldn’t help but glare at him softly. “Then why did you come out tonight to celebrate my book? And offer to buy me drinks and food?”

Ransom suddenly looked a lot less relaxed, stern and serious as he kept his gaze on you. “Do you really want to know?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” You challenged back, heart thumping in your chest.

He broke out into a huge grin, chuckling some, “Still not the one to ever back down from me. God, I love it. The reason I came out tonight was because, whether you believe it or not, I’m actually a fan of your writing. I have two copies of your first book and I already preordered the second. The reason I stayed out is because I realized how much I missed you. Most of my favorite memories from when I was younger involve you.”

“Really?” You inquired, munching on the food in front of you. “Like what?”

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t have let that one slide.” He chuckled softly. “One of my favorite memories is when I was probably 10 or 11, I think you and Meg had just started school. And you guys were learning about the stars and space and for some reason I was really obsessed with astronomy at the time. So one night, Meg, you, and I decided to camp out back of granddad’s and mom set a fire up for us and we sat there for hours roasting marshmallows and me teaching you guys about the constellations.”

A bright smile spread across your lips, so big it practically hurt. “I’m surprised you even remember that.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m a man full of surprises who aims to please.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Once the bill came, Ransom didn’t even let you see it, immediately pulling out some cash and handing it to the waitress, telling her to keep the change. He watched as you pulled out your phone, opening the uber app. “What’re you doing?” He asked quizzically.

“Calling myself a ride.” You answered, not even looking up.

“Nuh uh,” he shook his head, reaching over and grabbing the phone from you. “I’ll take you home.”

“But my apartment is like 45 minutes away and your house is down the street,” you protested.

“Then stay at my house tonight and I’ll take you home in the morning. I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed.”

You quirked an eyebrow, obviously not believing him. “You sleeping on the couch? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” He promised, offering you a warm smile. “Now, am I taking you home or are you staying at my house?”

“…I’ll stay at your place,” you mumbled.

Something about Ransom’s house felt oddly comforting. The large window at the front of the living room let the moonlight stream in, the darker colors that the walls were painted contrasting beautifully with every sleek modern piece of furniture he had. It was obvious his family influenced his taste some. The intricate designs on the patterns of the throw pillows something you could very easily see Halarn buying, while his kitchen was practically black, white, and silver - looking like it popped out of the modern section of an HGTV magazine. But it all flowed and melded together beautifully.

He showed you to his room, grabbing himself a change of clothes before heading out and leaving you alone. You couldn’t help but stand there and take in your surroundings. Being in there, even without him, felt intimate. Like he was showing you a secret page in a book he loved. A few pictures were on his dresser, various ones or him at parties with friends, one of the family which was smaller than the others. It was neat, clean and tidy but most likely because of a maid and not because he took the time out to clean up his mess. And it smelled of him, everything in the room just breathed Ransom.

Sitting down on the bed, you kicked your shoes off, sitting them down by the end before lying down and attempting to get comfortable. But to no avail, you tossed and turned for a few moments, and despite the softness of the mattress and sheets below you, you felt uncomfortable. Jeans too tight, bra irritating your skin, face feeling oily and heavy. You needed a shower and a change of clothes if you wanted to even think of falling asleep.

Hesitantly you made you way back downstairs, where Ransom was currently sitting in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, book in hand. You didn’t even have to say anything, his eyes moved from the book to you, cocking an eyebrow, “Guessing you need a shower and some comfy clothes?"

You nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, kind feel blah after the bar and greasy food.”

“That’s okay. Towels and wash rags are in the standing closet in the bathroom. Both bathrooms with have them but the master bathroom has better shower pressure. Just take something out of my closet to wear for the night.”

You nodded a thank you and headed back upstairs, grabbing the first sweater you saw in his closet and heading into the bathroom. A part of you felt as if you were dreaming, that this wasn’t actually happening. Any residual crush you had on Ransom from your childhood was coming back full force, and doubling all at one. A quick shower you hoped would calm your slightly growing nerves, but drying off and slipping on the damned creme colored sweater you knew you were hopeless. It smelled like him, was warm and soft.

Before you could stop yourself you were padding back down the steps, not caring that the sweater barely covered your ass and that you hadn’t bothered with any underwear. Ransom was staring at you before had even looked at him, eyes taking in the sight of you in nothing else but his sweater, jaw set tight with a slight tick. “Whatcha doing there, sweetheart?” He urged, trying to keep his composure.

You sat on your knees next to him on the couch, staring at him for a moment. “Debating if I should do something I’ll probably regret in the morning.”

He smirked, “I promise if you’re gonna do what I think, you won’t regret it. You can hold me to that.”

“Then make sure I don’t-” you leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of you and pressing your lips against his. The fullness of his pouty lower lip slotted between yours, kissing you in a way you had never been kissed before, completely and utterly stealing your breath and any logical thought from you.

His hands were on your hips, pulling you into his lap, groaning softly against your lips at the feel of your smooth skin in his hand. It was a battle of tongues for dominance, which you quickly surrendered at the feel of him gripping your ass, kneading and pulling before spanking the plump flesh.

He pulled away first, a wild look in his eyes. “Get your ass upstairs, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna make sure you don’t regret a thing.”

A shiver went up your spine and you squealed softly before giggling, high on adrenaline and him. You stole another kiss before running upstairs to his room, heart pounding and mind racing.

Ransom came in a few moments later, quickly discarding his shirt and tossing it in the direction of the hamper before stalking towards you. He moved to hover over you, lips dancing along the skin of your neck. “God fucking damn it, baby girl, seeing you in my clothes - fuck you’re gonna drive me crazy.” He pressed a few kisses to the sensitive skin before biting down on the junction where your neck met your shoulder.

The whimpers and moans that left you spurred him on, lips continuing their worship of your skin as his hands traveled along the outside of your thighs and up to you hips. Fingers traced along to curve to your waist, up and over your breast as your nipples prickled at the sensation. He felt every movement, every time you squirmed, every time you squeezed your thighs together, every time you rutted.

“Can I take this off you, sweetheart? Make you feel real good, promise, baby.” A nod was all he needed and the moment you leaned up some he pulled the sweater off, tossing it aside. Ransom moved to lean back, moving to sit on his haunches, moving your thighs and spreading them to be on his clothed ones.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so fucking perfect. So fucking wet for me, I can already see it. You my little whore, hm?” He leaned down, pressing kisses against the skin of your chest.

A sudden slap to your thigh caused you to gasp. “What was that for?” You whined, moving to card your fingers through his hair.

“Speak when you’re spoken to or I’ll have to punish you.” The thought riled you up even more. Being splayed across his lap, hand coming down on you as you squirmed relentlessly, taking every bit of the 'punishment’. But that was for another time, hopefully. Right now you wanted, no needed him.

“Sorry, daddy.” Your voice was so soft and innocent, absolutely driving him wild.

He wanted nothing more than to ram into you, make you scream. But not yet, he wasn’t done teasing. Ransom’s lips moved from the skin of your chest to you nipples, pressing a chaste kiss on one before moving to the other and back again. Back and forth as the motions increased. A kiss to a flick to a suck to a nibble.

His lips begin to move south, nipping at the soft skin along the way. “Absolutely stunning.” He hummed, “Better than I could have imagined, pretty girl.” Soon he was situated between your legs, breath fanning over your soaked folds. A soft groan left Ransom, kissing at the skin of your thighs. “Smell so good, gonna taste even better I guarantee it.”

“Stop teasing,” you whined, tugging on his hair.

He looked up at you, “Baby, that’s not how this works,” he tsked softly. “You want something, you need to beg.”

Another deep throaty whine ripped from you. “Please,” you whimpered, squirming. “Fuck please, need you."

He chuckled softly, "I’ll let you off this time - Wanna taste this pretty little pussy.” Without any other warning he delved into your cunt, licking a stripe from entrance to clit before suckling on the little nub. He licked and sucked and nibbled, two fingers prodded your entrance before pushing in to the second knuckle, curling and immediately finding that spot that made you see star.

Ransom basked in your mewls, the feel of you tugging on his hair before your grip would loosen as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. Talented was an understatement and a part of you hated how good it was, how good he was treating you.

He didn’t stop, determined to coax an orgasm out of you. Fingers moved swiftly, in and out, scissoring and curling. Lips worked in tandem, listening to your cries of pleasure to determine what you really liked and kept at it. It wasn’t long before your toes were curling, back arching off the bed in a loud moan, his name like a prayer on your lips.

“Ransom,” you whimpered as the aftershocks rolled through you, his lips never leaving your core, “fuck, Ransom, daddy please. Want your cock.”

He pulled away, pressing one last chaste kiss to your clit before moving to kiss you, letting you taste yourself as he pulled his sweats down and kicked them off. Your hands quickly moved to his length, stroking softly and moaning against his lips.

“You’re so big,” the little whine caused him to chuckle softly as he pulled away, leaning over to pull a condom out of his bedside table.

“Yeah? Think I’m big, baby girl? Want me to split you in two?” The cockiness in his voice only added to how much you wanted him.

All you could do was nod, looking up at him with a pouty lip and wide eyes. “Please, fuck me, wanna cum on your cock.”

He growled softly, pulling the condom on and lining himself up with your entrance. Ransom teased, moving the head to hook your clit a few times, loving the little jolt and whine that would come from you. He pushed in, slow at first to let you accommodate to his girth, then a quick thrust to bury himself to the hilt, feeling as though he was hitting your cervix.

If you had ever wondered why Ransom was a playboy, why he was so cocky and self assured, you knew why now. He pulled out almost fully before slamming back in, angling his hips to hit that spot that had your legs quaking every time he pushed back in. Each push and pull had your head reeling, moans falling freely from your lips as you scratched helplessly at his back for purchase. One of Ransom’s hands snaked between the two of you, flicking your clit in time with his thrusts.

With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he growled out words into your skin, pushing you closer and closer to the edge;

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Perfect fucking pussy, squeezing me so good.”

“You were made for this, made for me. Weren’t you baby girl?”

“Come on, princess. Cum on Daddy’s cock. Show me how much you love it.”

One particularly rough thrust paired with a bite to your sensitive skin had you tipping over the edge, mouth open in a silent scream as your toes curled and thighs squeezed his waist. A few more sloppy thrusts and he emptied himself in the condom, groaning and moaning low in his chest.

A few moments of breathing, neither of you bothering to move as you came down from your highs. Ransom pressed a few kisses to your neck before taking what little breath you had away as he kissed you, an obvious heated passion still boiling beneath the surface. He pulled out while he lips where still on yours, swallowing down your whine before pulling away.

Ransom left the bed, your body quaking ever so slightly with aftershocks as he disappeared into the bathroom. He returned a few moments later, condom gone and holding a damp wash rag. He handed it to you, letting you clean yourself up as he slid back under the comforter, taking it from you when you were done and tossing it into the hamper.

Without as much as a word he pulled you into his side, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. The two of you stayed quiet for what felt like forever, never quite falling asleep and taking in what exactly had just happened. Just as the sun began to break the night sky, he moved so he was facing you, lying on his side. Crystal clear blue eyes searched your face, a look of contemplation evident.

“Would you want to do that again?” He asked, voice almost hushed as if he was telling a secret.

You hesitated your answer, nodding softly, “Yeah, actually. I would.”

He smirked softly, “We’ll discuss the details after we sleep. But let’s just make sure no one finds out. Our little arrangement, okay?”

Meg stared at you, a look mixed between confusion, disbelief, and a little bit of disgust. “That was-” she sighed, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair, “That was a little more than I needed to know. Is he the mysterious guy you were seeing last summer?”

A small nod as you sipped at the tea more before looking at her, giving her a look that could only be compared to that of a kicked puppy. You watched as puzzle pieces fit together in her mind, slowly seeing the big picture.

“He’s the guy who bought you all that jewelry. And the guy that got you a dog - he hates dogs - The guy who took you to Maldives and Paris? What the-” her brows furrowed some, nibbling at her lip as you nodded in confirmation, “The guy that got drunk one night and told you he couldn’t live without you? That you were his everything?”

Her words sliced deep and you sniffled to keep yourself from crying again. “Yep,” your voice was still hoarse with emotions. “It was all Ransom.”

Meg sighed softly, her sympathy evident in every move and noise she made. “I’m so sorry… Do - do you still love him?”

Time seemed to freeze momentarily, every single memory whirling through your mind. With tears brimming your eyes again you looked at Meg, feeling utterly broken and lost. “I’m scared there won’t ever be a time where I don’t love him.”

Tags: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @et-lesailes @necromaniackat @dramaticsassmaster @bval-1 @writingoneficatatime @lokilvrr

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years ago

Text

10:34 A.M.

The sunlight was warm against your cheeks as it shone in through the windows; yet, it wasn’t the harsh rays that woke you from your comfortable slumber.

You could feel a tender gaze directed right at you along with a pair of strong arms, your favorite pair of arms to be exact—wrapped protectively around your waist.

Gentle fingers glided softly along your face; almost featherlight to the point where you wouldn’t have even noticed that he was touching you if it weren’t for the callousness of his digits connecting the dots of your scattered freckles and the cool metal on his fourth finger.

You had yet to open your eyes, but you were confident in the idea that your husband was staring at you and you didn’t want to make it known that you were awake just yet.

Honestly, it felt as though you were still in dreamland—everything was just too good to be true. Memories of the most perfect day of your entire life soon came rushing back to your mind and you couldn’t help the small smirk that was now encompassing your face—giving away the fact that you were no longer asleep.

“Good morning Mrs.Tuan.”

Hearing the excitement yet raspiness in his voice along with his last name that was also yours now sent so many emotions to your chest. You were over the moon to say the least. He let out a giggle when you hid your face against his bare chest and placed a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“Good morning Mr.Tuan.”

“Ah, I’m never going to get tired of calling you Mrs.Tuan. I still can’t believe you’re my wife. God, it’s like a dream come true—“

“Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for over five years for you to propose to me—“

Mark let out a guttural groan at the sound of your playful complaint; dropping his head in between the valley of your breasts and earning himself a shove to his shoulder. A blush was now adorning your cheeks; only then as you felt his warm breath against your nipples did you come to the realization that you were naked. It didn’t bother you though, not like it did when you and Mark first became intimate back in the third week of your relationship.

He was your husband now and the two of you made love to each other numerous times in the duration of your five year relationship that you were no longer shy whenever you’d find yourself naked around him. Actually, Mark was very vocal about how insanely beautiful you were—and devastatingly sexy which led you to lose your timidity and gain a newfound confidence. One that you never knew existed and you owed entirely to your husband.

“Hey, we went over this on multiple occasions baby. I wanted to propose to you only months after we started dating—I knew I was in love with you after only the third date. Trust me, it was extremely difficult for me having to introduce you as my girlfriend and not my wife for these last few years. I don’t know why—I mean sure, getting to call you my girlfriend and getting to be called your boyfriend was all that mattered to me. You’re my soulmate y/n. My person—but something about the titles “wife” and “husband” is more permanent. It solidifies a relationship. But I wanted us to be finished with school and settled in to our actual careers before taking things any further. It worked out though didn’t it? Look at us. We’re both redeemingly successful with our positions at the companies we work at and we share a two story house in our mid twenties. Not that it matters, but we can live comfortably as a married couple unlike a lot of people our age. We’re a whole now. You’re stuck with me and my penis for the rest of your life—“

“Oh God. Just when it was getting so romantic, you just had to throw your dick in there. Well, you’re stuck with me and my pussy—“

“I don’t consider myself stuck at all. Your pussy is so magical—fuck, we’ve had sex at least three hundred times, maybe even more than that and every single time, you never failed to blow my mind—and my dick. But shit, last night had to be the best night of my entire life. Yesterday, was the most incredible day in my twenty-seven years of existence. You are the most beautiful person in the entire world and I’m not just saying that because you’re my wife, it’s true. Not only on the outside; which, honestly, you are a sight for sore eyes. I can never take my eyes off of you and I never want to. I’d stare at you in awe of your beauty all day if time permitted me to. But you have the most kindest and generous hearts and you are just the sweetest soul. I can’t wait to remind you every single day for the rest of our lives just how perfect you are to me.”

He brought his thumb up to the brim of your eyelids and wiped away a tear that you didn’t even know fell. God, this man was really the love of your life. You’d never be able to comprehend exactly what you did to deserve being the lucky girl who loved Mark and got to be loved by him, but you would never take your position in his life as his bride for granted.

Before you could continue to let any more tears fall at his endearing words, he was quick to continue his not so innocent speech about the many naughty thoughts taking up all the space his mind.

“I don’t know if it’s because we’re newlyweds or because you never cease to amaze me each and every time we stumble in to bed together but the sex we had just hours ago in my opinion was the best sex we’ve ever had. I know I complimented you almost the entire day yesterday on how gorgeous you looked in that wedding dress and I’m sure my never ending tears that flowed down my cheeks as you walked down the aisle and my wedding vows that were almost twenty minutes long are enough to prove my undying love for you. But God, seeing you in that dress—that dress was made for you. You looked so fucking ethereal and damn, it looked so much better on the floor once I got you alone. You know, my mind is still a little hazy from sleeping—maybe you could remind me just how amazing it was—if I knew you were this abusive, I would have made you work harder for that ring you’re wearing.”

Both his and your laughter filled the room and you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes and pinching his cute little butt. Your wedding day was everything you could have ever dreamt of and more. There were countless times in your relationship where you would day dream about what your wedding would be like. It didn’t take you too long to realize that Mark was the person you wanted to settle down and start a family with. Everything within you; your heart, your mind, your body and your soul was his. You were set on Mark Tuan; for life. Since he took his time with asking you to marry him, you developed some insecurities about whether or not he saw himself marrying you. Sure, he may have talked about your future together every now and then, but not once did he ever bring up marriage so you just assumed he had no plans on getting married at all.

It made your engagement all the more special when he did finally get around to proposing to you less than a year ago while the two of you were in vacation in Hawaii. You tried to convince yourself that you would be happy even if Mark were to confess he had no plans on tying the knot. As long as Mark was in your life, you were content with whatever title you held in his. But on that magical night when he got down on one knee and went in to detail about his undying love for you as the two of you watched the sunset go down, you felt wholeheartedly that his proposal was one dreams were made of.

“What are you thinking about?” You looked at him in curiosity and it was in that moment; looking at his blank stare did you realize you were probably mirroring his exact facial expression.

“Nothing. Just that I’m really happy. Really, really happy. You mean everything to me Mark. I don’t know what I would do without you and I dont even want to think about my life before you were in it. It was colorless and dull. Now all I see is so many beautiful colors. Just the mere thought of you along pulls on my heartstrings in such a miraculous way. I love the way you make me feel and I love the effect you’ve had on me. I’m so in love with you and I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us.”

Your husband gave you his signature gummy smile before smashing his mouth roughly against yours. He licked on your bottom lip and took it in between his sharp teeth, nibbling all but gently while dragging his cold fingertips along your smooth skin.

“You’re my happily ever after y/n. I kind of regret not getting around to marrying you sooner. I just really wanted to give you the ring and the wedding that you’ve always wanted. You deserved the entire universe and more y/n. Truly, there’s so much I want to give you. You are genuinely out of this world; you’re practically a goddess—an otherworldly being and honestly, you deserve so much more than what this world has to offer you. I’m not stupid my love, I’ve picked up on the many wedding magazines you’d scatter throughout the house, I’ve noticed you’ve been watching a couple of episodes from that one Disney weddings show and I overheard you talking to your mom about not knowing how I felt about marriage. I’m sorry that you had to question my feelings for you, but I thought that my constant love confessions and the way I could never stop holding you, kissing you and needing to be around you was enough to prove the fact that you are my home. You own my heart y/n. You always have and you always will forever. The feeling is mutual baby. I don’t care what ends up happening to me. I don’t care where we end up living—if we ever decide to move houses, cities, states or even countries. I don’t care what my job title is, how much money I’ll end up making or what anyone other than you has to think or say about me. Life—life can be rough and there are days that I just want to scream, cry and run away. But then I look at you and I see my purpose—I look at you and see the reason for my existence. You’re the reason why I breathe. You’re the reason why my heartbeat increases—the reason why I wake up with the biggest grin on my face. You are my reason to be happy and I could never thank you enough for all you’ve done for me in the last five years. Now, I can’t wait to continue to relish in our love for many more decades to come.”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #got7 #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

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tony-is-my-daddy · 4 years ago

Text

My Forbidden Fruit

I hit a writer's block a few days ago with the multi chapter Starker fic I'm working on and I thought I'd try writing something else to keep myself occupied. I hope you like this.

Basically, Peter is a farm owner's son and Tony works for his dad and they're not supposed to date but oh well... Also, it's not staded in the fic but Peter is twenty years old here.

TW: one love scene, a bit of possessive behaviour but it's mostly just dirty talk. I think that's it but if you think there's anything else, let me know, please!

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He placed down the last crate of corn in the barn, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. His hands hurt at this point from how many heavy crates he'd been carrying around all day, but he couldn't complain, his job paid quite well. Working for a well going farm owner meant good payment but also a huge property where Tony had a load of work to get done every day. He'd been up since six in the morning and the only break he had was his lunch time ever since.

The physically tiring work wouldn't have been bad, but this job wasn't just physically tiring. There was this one boy who kept annoying him and distracting him from his work however he could. That stupid game between them felt more tiring than his whole afternoon of carrying crates around the place. And the worst part was - the boy was extremely pretty and he knew how to use that to his advatage.

He walked around in the tiniest clothes ever that Tony secretly loved, short shorts and tight fitting tops that just drove him absolutely insane. It's hard to focus on your job when he's outside, sunbathing on the grass in nothing but a pair of boxers, or doing his morning yoga on his balcony, or when he's coming back from a dip in the lake, milky skin and messy chestnut curls dripping water that the towel wrapped around his waist barely soaks up.

He was only supposed to stay until the end of the summer, but it was now the middle of September and he was still there. Tony didn't know why he was still at the farm but he wasn't about to ask because getting into a conversation with Peter, the son of the owner of the farm which Tony worked on, was dangerous. Peter had his way with words, all syrupy-sweet and tantalizing. Tony did not need that, he wasn't planning on losing his job because he fucked his boss' son.

But he could never avoid the boy fully when he was on the farm, and today was no exception. Peter was already on his tail as he walked out from the barn and towards the pile of wood that needed to be chopped.

"Hi Tony," the younger boy greeted as he hurried after the man. "My mom told me you had a lot of work to get done today so I thought I'd keep you company."

"I don't need company," Tony replied curtly as he grabbed the axe that laid against the wall of the shed.

They always used makeshift stand made out of a huge woodbark that almost reached up to Tony's hip to chop wood on, it was the easiest route. So Tony grabbed a small piece of wood, set it on top of the big bark and with a hard swing of the heavy axe, he split the wood right into two pieces, the axe stopping as it got stuck in the thick bark.

"Stand back, pretty boy, or you might get hurt," he said with a motion of his hand, signaling to Peter to go away.

"I'm fine." Peter smiled as he sat down on a bench not too far away from Tony. He watched the man work in awe, as if he was doing anything other than swinging an axe back and forth. "You're so strong, Tony. I wish I could do that as well."

"Try doing sports other than yoga and maybe you'll be able to lift the axe," Tony mocked him between two hits. "This isn't some game, Peter. I'm working over here, please don't distract me."

"Oh I'm not distracting you, am I," the younger boy asked faux innocently. "I'm just sitting here-" Yes, in those stupid shorts that put his milky white legs on display. "-and I'm not doing anything-" Just talking to me with that voice. "-just watching you work. Because it looks so fascinating, how strong you are."

"Then why not watch the other workers instead? They're probably just as fascinating as I am."

"No they're not."

"Why not?"

"Because you're way sexier."

There it was, again... Tony hated it when Peter did that, so open about what he wanted and always trying to get it shamelessly. Tony felt like a piece of meat under the intense stare of the younger boy, and he started getting more and more uncomforfable. Who did this boy think he was, saying such things?!

"Peter, I work for your father. Hell, I'm over ten years older than you!"

"That doesn't mean a thing, I like men in their thirties way more than men in their twenties. You're more mature, smart, experienced. I like that."

Tony rolled his eyes and got back to chopping wood, that was his work, after all. He tried his best to ignore the younger boy, but it was hard when he was only a few feet away and he looked fucking edible. Tony found himself glancing at Peter more often than not, making him smile triuphantly, which Tony pretended he did not see. It was harder to do his work with the pair of honey eyes (do not ask how did he know what color Peter's eyes were) constantly on him, his hits becoming less accuare until he wasn't even splitting them in half but into thirds and two-thirds. He shook his head, deciding to take a break. He put the chopped wood into a wheelbarrow and manouvered it into the shed, putting them away into the organized pile that stood next to the wall. The next thing he knew, Peter was there next to him, picking up a piece of wood and putting it down next to the ones Tony placed. Tony adjusted it a little so it sat straight, like the rest, and put three more next to it.

"Hey Tones... would you like to come with me to the lake later today?"

Tony scoffed. "It's Tony. And no, if you haven't realized yet, I have a lot of work to do."

"What else are you gonna do?"

"I have to finish chopping wood, lock the animals up and the boss told me there's a car that needs to be checked as well."

"Yes, my car! It doesn't want to start, I don't know what's wrong with it. Ahh, you're gonna look at my car? That's so nice of you Tony, I really appreciate it. Maybe- maybe you could teach me something? Like, I could watch while you work and you tell me how everything works and-"

"No." Tony finished up putting the wood away and lead the wheelbarrow back outside and put it down close to himself as he started chopping wood again. He managed to cut three before he heard Peter's voice again.

"What do you mean no? Why not?"

Tony sighed. "I was told to take a look at your car and fix it, not to give you a car mechanics one-oh-one. And that's exactly what I'm gonna do, no less, no more. Now if you'd please stop distracting me, I'd greatly appreciate that."

Tony heard a small huff behind himself, then saw the boy pass by him and finally left Tony alone. He heard the slam of a door, Peter probably went back to the farm house. So Tony continued chopping wood in peace, but soon regretted sending Peter away because his job was way less interesting without him around. Maybe he did actually need that company...

The sun was starting to set when Tony finally got to checking Peter's car. He put a portable lamp down next to himself as he opened the hood of the car.

"Tell me where it hurts, babygirl," he mumbled to the machine as he smoothed his hands down the engine. He looked through it and found the battery termials. A loose positive cable, of course. Tony carefully removed the negative cable, so he could tighten the positive without getting shocked. Then, he plugged the negative back in, both of them nice and snug in their place. He closed the hood and sat in the car to check if it would start. He turned the key that was still in the ignition and the engine began rumbling. When he stepped on the gas pedal, the vehicle started. Tony laughed victoriously and turned the car off.

This was probably his fourth time that he sat down during the whole day, so he savoured it. He leaned his head back against the seat and took a deep breath. The car smelled like Peter, the most intoxicating scent ever. Tony didn't often get to be engulfed by that smell, but it was so good, he never wanted to leave that bubble he was in, never ever. He knew that's not how it worked, though, and he sighed as he leaned back forward, ready to open the door, when suddenly the passenger door on the other side of him opened, and a very shirtless Peter Parker got into the car, a towel thrown over his shoulder.

"Let's go," he said.

"What? Where?"

"To the lake. You said you had no time because you had work. But this was your last job and now that you fixed my car, we can go and take a relaxing dip together."

"Peter, no-"

"Peter yes. Now start the car, please, I wanna get there before the sun sets fully. It's so pretty, you have to see it."

Tony shook his head again, but when he looked at the puppy dog eyed boy, he knew he lost the battle. He couldn't say no to that sight, he had to go. So with a sigh, he started the engine again and he put it in reverse to back up to the road. Peter told him exactly what direction to go, since Tony hadn't been to the lake yet, and soon they were in a secluded area, nature surrounding them and the small lake. Peter got out of the car and eagerly ran towards the clear water, Tony following in suit.

Peter dropped his pants, now only clad in a pair of tight boxers that perfectly hugged his round ass, and walked into the water. He let out a little yelp as it touched his skin.

"It's a bit cold," he giggled. "But it's still nice, come on!"

Tony shook his head with a slight smile, but started unbuttoning his flannel anyways. He watched as Peter's eyes followed his movements, the boy basically drooling over Tony's exposed upper body. But Tony couldn't say anything, he was no different. Seeing Peter's lean figure was something he was still not used to, probably never will be used to.

He unbuckled and unbuttoned his jeans as well and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them and his shoes. Now he was also in only his boxers and while he knew he really should not have done it, Peter was irresistible. So he walked into the cool water as well, pleasant against his overheated skin.

At its deepest point, the water came up to Tony's hip, just covering the hem of his boxers, while it reached up to Peter's waist. The height difference between them was so obvious in that moment. Hell, every difference between them was so obvious, Tony's tanned hands against Peter's pale skin, calloused hands on the boy's silky soft sides while Peter placed his own, smooth hands on Tony's chest. They were so close to each other, they were touching each other. And not only that, but the amount of clothes separating them was minimal. It was so much easier to resist Peter on the farm, where people were around them and Tony knew what was his job. Where there was always at least a foot distance between them and an acceptable amount of clothes on them. But now, no one was there to interrupt them, nothing could've possibly made Tony step away from the beautiful boy. He was getting lost in the moment, lost in the honey colored eyes, the endless amount of freckles littering Peter's gorgeous cheeks and the bridge of his nose, the thick eyelases that fluttered so beautifully, like the wings of a graceful butterfly, the deep pink of those soft looking lips. Tony couldn't help his hand that moved on its own, coming up to touch Peter's bottom lip gently and yes, it was so soft, so delicate.

"Just kiss me already," Peter breathed, his usual teasing tone gone, now he was straight up begging. It made that last bit of resistance melt away, the last brick of the wall that Tony built around the two of them smash into tiny pieces, and their lips pressed together within a heartbeat. It was passionate, rough, months of built up tension poured into it. Tony'd hands began roaming up and down Peter's sides and back before one of them finally rested at the back of his neck, pulling him in, deepening the kiss, and the other one just below his ass as it pulled Peter's leg out of the water to wrap around his waist. The younger boy's arms wrapped around his back as well, hands burying into Tony's sweaty hair.

It was perfect, everything about the kiss was perfect and Tony never wanted to stop. Especially not when Peter's other leg followed the one that Tony was holding and he clung to Tony with his whole body. Only then did Tony notice the tent in the younger one's boxers.

"Tony," he gasped between kisses. "Please, do something, please."

And how can a weak, weak man like Tony resist to something like that? He grapped Peter's plump ass with both hands and started grinding the boy down against himself, the sweet friction on their clothes cocks making both of them moan out loud. The kissing came to an end as their jaws dropped in order to let their sounds flow, but they remained close to each other, basically sharing a breath. Their foreheads leaned against each other, half lidded eyes staring into the other's while they moved in tandem, grinding against one another.

"You're so beautiful," Tony said, his voice gravelly. "Skin so pretty and soft... I wanna mark it all up, make it mine. Make you mine."

"Take me. Take me, I'm yours, always have been yours."

"God, Peter. You're so good, fuck, so hot."

"Want everyone to know that I belong to you, Tony. Want them to see that the hottest man in the fucking world owns me. That I'm yours and no one else's-"

"And I'm yours, too."

They shared a few more lazy kisses between loud moans of the other one's name, both of them nearing their climax rapidly. Peter was the first who came, a harsh bite on his shoulder pushing him over the edge. As he came, he let out a scream louder than the ones he had before, which made Tony lose himself as well and come with Peter's name rolling off his tongue like a prayer.

They still held each other close as they came down from their high and tried to catch their breath. Tony was rocking Peter side to side, making the younger boy sleepy.

"Tony," he whispered.

"Yes, baby?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"I love you."

Tony chuckled. "Can I tell you a secret as well?"

"Mhm."

"I've loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you."

#starker #starker fanfic #starker fanfiction #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark/peter parker #farm worker!tony #farm owner's son!peter #au #nff

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