#been really wanting to optimize all the brushes i bought too (but i ended up using only one for this lol)

[temeyes]

here comes the boi hello boi welcomeeeeeeeeeee

[deepdeanvsweston]

George and Beanie friendship headcannons (set a small bit after DSS I suppose?)

- I NEED them to be friends!!!

- ok so this is actually a bit more of an AU than just headcannons but we roll

- ok so Beanie's mother is sick right and I don't think she's gonna make it

- but of course her husband (Beanie's dad) has forked out for the best treatment in the world for her

- which is in London, and George's father is the best doctor around (he's canonically knighted right???)

- so George's dad is treating Beanie's mum, and ensuring she gets round the clock treatment

- it's Christmas Eve too, which is relevant

- idk why but stay with me George is there at the hospital too waiting on his father to finish his checks or whatever

- Beanie and her mum have this tradition where they sing 'we wish you a merry christmas' at midnight to her horses in the stable

- obviously they can't do that this year, but Beanie still wants to sing with her mum at midnight

- visiting hours were supposed to be over, but Beanie decided to be brave and hid in a supply cupboard and waited till there were no doctors about so she could sing with her

- but the hospital is dark, and all the corridors look the same, and she's more than a little bit scared

- George, at the same time, is roaming the corridors having the time of his life waiting on his father to finish paperwork. He definitely absolutely does not believe in ghosts, but is open to the possibilities

- imagine his surprise when he rounds a corner to see a tall, wispy looking girl shuffling nervously about who when she turns to look at him has big, sad eyes

- George recognises her (he's good with faces) and of course asks her what she's doing there. She tells him and they go to her mother's room together

- it's all very emotional when Beanie sees her mum

- anyway

- George finds some mince pies from the staff canteen for her to nibble on, because he figures she can't have had anything to eat since four o clock

- Beanie's father left when visiting hours ended, so George's father drives her home

- they've bought a flat in London to be nearer her mum but that on top of the hospital expenses has made them very nearly broke

- Beanie's dad has had to dismiss all but one of the servants, and there's talk of Beanie not being able to return to Deepdean, but she doesn't know this

- Beanie's dad didn't even notice she wasn't with him (there's just... a lot on his mind) and feels awful, and just starts outright crying in the doorway

- Beanie is so shocked that she starts crying too

- George and his father come into the flat to try and calm things down

- their fathers sit down to have a Grownup Chat and George rings his mother to tell her they're fine, just Dealing With Something

- he helps Beanie to her room ('propriety be damned') because she's pretty much inconsolable from seeing her father cry, and it being Christmas Day as half a family, not to mention the fact it's like half one in the morning by now so she's tired

- he doesn't know what to do about this, so he offers to brush her hair. That always made him feel calmer

- Beanie agrees and so George sits and brushes it

- she throws herself into a hug with him and tells him 'I wish I had you as a brother' and then almost passes out from exhaustion on his shoulder

- anyway the Mukherjees go home and when Beanie wakes up it's officially Christmas Day, but they don't really celebrate

- Beanie's father suggests that she stays with a friend for a while and Beanie while sad is relieved. Trying to combat her father's sadness with optimism had been exhausting, and the flat never really felt like home anyway

- but where to stay?

- she can't stay with Kitty, the new baby is too much for the Freebodys as it is, Lavinia's parents are, well... Lavinia's parents, and the Mountfitchet's flat simply cannot take anymore people

- so of course she goes and stays with George and his family

- who are very friendly and welcoming and sympathetic, and she doesn't have to put on a brave face anymore

- she cries a lot, but George always sits with her and then brushes her hair

- Mrs Mukherjee puts her hair into nice plaits and patiently teaches Beanie and George how to do it

- Mr Mukherjee always lets her sneak in and see her mother before visiting hours

- (it's beneficial to both Beanie and her mother, who glows when she sees her daughter)

- Harold always speaks a bit confusingly it seems to Beanie, with big long words he's learned in his Cambridge lectures combined with silly slang words he's picked up from the university itself

- so he intimidates her a little bit, but one day she picks up the courage to ask what 'being sent down' means and Harold explains it to her so nicely and patiently that she's not afraid anymore

- when Deepdean has a Social Event, George and Harold always turn up for Beanie and dance nearly every dance with her

- when she's confused about maths, or spelling, George will help her and try to explain things in a way she'd understand

- Beanie helps George too > when he's feeling stressed about something she'll brush his hair and joke that 'I won't be able to put your hair in a plait though!

- she tries to teach him how to ride a horse

- George doesn't Take To It and ends with no physical bruises but definitely a bruised dignity

- she sends him half her chocolate she receives from the stablehand (who's like a grandfather to her) and in return George sends Beanie half of the Indian sweets his mother sends him

- Beanie makes him a bracelet of his favourite colours, which he keeps hidden round his ankle

- they have the same picture of them together on their nightstand > it's of Beanie on her 17th birthday, and they're both wearing colourful party hats with the biggest grins

[20moonchild21]

𝗦𝗲𝗵𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵𝘁 [𝗯𝘁𝘀]

⇉ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 6

[pairings]

JK x female!oc, bunny!Hybrid!JK x human!female!oc, Jin x female!oc, leopard!Hybrid!Jin x human!female!oc, JK x female!oc x Jin

[warnings]

Describing of injuries, mentions of suffering, mentions of former abuse, traumatized Jin, angst, crying

[words]

4.4k

[author]

I hope you all have an amazing Sunday today! I am still stuck in my exam period, but fortunately it will be over soon🙏🏼

If you are interested in a Jimin!Hybrid Story, I can highly recommend you to read Inferiority complex written by the cutest author ever @starlightauroras-main! Please, check out her profile and leave her a lot of likes and motivating comments. She deserves it so much!

Also, check out the the other profiles that inspired me to write my own story. You will find the links to their profiles below this chapter.

If you have an other recommendations or criticism for me, I am always open for it!

Stay healthy and safe!

Mꨄ

[chapter 5 ||| chapter 7]

“Now, if you press this button the camera will snap a photo.” She explained to Jungkook, who was staring at the smart phone in her hand.

“A photo.” He just whispered to himself, before he carefully took the small piece of metal out of the girl’s hand.

He turned the phone in all direction, slide his fingers over it and even lifted it up towards his nose to sniff it. His eyebrows cocked up, before he let it sink down again. Carefully, he tipped his finger right in the middle of the touchscreen. When nothing happened, he looked confused and turned it again, before he suddenly began to shake it up and down wildly in his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey!” The girl laughed, as she tried to stop his moving arm. “Be careful, Jungkook. It’s really breakable. If you want to take a picture, you have to press here. Look.”

The girl took the phone back and stood up from the couch. She kneeled herself in front of the bunny Hybrid, who was once again looking at her with wide eyes.

“Say cheeeessseeee.” She said in hight voice, hoping that he would smile for her.

Of course he didn’t smile. In fact, his confused eyes flickered to his right side, trying to get an answer from his brother, who was sitting at the very end of the couch to Jungkook’s right side. He was looking up from the book he had asked for permission to read earlier, his face showed the same confusedness as Jungkook’s face.

When Jungkook had showed him the girl’s book shelf earlier, his eyes had caught the colourful cover of the big cookbook which she got from her mom when she moved into her very first apartment. He hadn’t exactly asked her to read it, but the girl had seen the way his eyes had moved over towards the bookshelf from time to time, like he was bursting with curiousness.

When she had told him, that he was free to read the book whenever he would like to, he first had shaken his head, but eventually he had shyly asked her again while the three of them were sitting on the couch. Since then, he had been sitting accurately at the end of the sofa, completely absorbed in the pages of the book.

“Jungkook!” She tried to get the boy’s attention back. “Just smile at the camera.”

Jungkook ripped his eyes away from his brother. When his eyes met with the girl’s phone, he didn’t smile, though. He just kept looking confused, but really adorable at the camera.

When she was done taking some more pictures, she quickly saved it to her album, before she sat back next to the bunny, showing him the photo she had taken.

“And where do they come out?” He asked curiously, as he tried to look for something on the phone that would print out the taken picture.

The girl just laughed again. He was so innocent and adorable when he tried to understand the world around him. His curious personality seemed to suck up as much information as it could get, like he was a toddler that just needed to explore the world around him.

“My phone can’t print the picture.” She smiled at him, keeping her secret that she would give him his own picture on the wall. “But it is safe and sound on my phone, and every time you want to see it, I can show it to you.”

Jungkook didn’t look convinced at all, but after a few seconds of just staring at the girl, he shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to his note book that was still laying in his lap.

Hope shook her head. The whole day he had clued to his note book, sketching and scribbling wildly over the white pages until they were filled with thousands of lines. He didn’t even tried to play the guitar or read in his favourite book, which he did every day.

She sighed. Maybe he just had to process the previous days and that’s why he tried to organize his thought in his very own special way. She would let him.

“I will prepare dinner for us.” She said and stood, smoothing her leggings. “But first I would like to take a look at you injures, Jin. I think it is time to change the bandages. O – Of course only if you let me.”

The leopard was once again looking up from his book. The girl could see the discomfort in his eyes, as his eyes flicked to Jungkook for a moment and then back at her, before he nodded almost unnoticed.

“Okay, I will just get the first aid kit.” She turned around and got the kit from the storage, before returning at the couch.

Jungkook had laid his note book aside and was now sitting next to his brother, who had already removed his shirt. Both of them were holding hands with each other the whole time while she felt over his body.

The smaller scratches at his front were still swollen, but at least they had stopped bleeding over the day, so she could remove the bandage completely. She tossed the used bandages aside, before she carefully applied a healing salve his injures. Jin hissed in pain, as the cold gel touched his sore and sensitive skin.

“I am sorry.” The girl whispered when she saw Jin squeezing Jungkook’s hand harder. “But it will help your injures healing faster.”

After another few minutes, she was done with his front side and slowly moved towards his back, that looked much worse. Though the big scratch on his back was still covered by the bandage, the girl could make out the red stain of blood that had soaked the white material. She carefully removed it, trying hard to not hurt the poor boy more.

“This looks bad.” She whispered to herself, as she looked at his back.

“Will he be okay?” Jungkook was looking worried between his brother and the girl.

“Don’t worry, Kookie. It looks bad, but nothing we can’t fix.” She tried to give him a bit of optimism, as she weakly smile at the bunny. “It will be better from now on.”

This scratch there was the worst of all. Even if she wasn’t a doctor, she could clearly see that it was infected from all the dirt and dust that had come in contact with the open wound. Hope took the wet clothe that she had placed next to her and began to whip of the dry blood, before she applied a small amount of salve as well and wrapped it up with a new, clean bandage.

“All done.” She pulled of the used hand clothes and tossed them into the bin as well.

Jungkook helped Jin to put on a new shirt, while the girl cleaned up all the supplies she had used. When she was done, she made her way over into the kitchen, starting to prepare dinner for the three of them.

While she waited for the water to boil, her gaze fell once again onto the two Hybrids cuddling at the couch. When she had found Jungkook, she had thought that his injured wrists and knees were bad, but it was nothing in comparison to Jin’s.

She wanted so bad to believe that it was okay now, because both Hybrids were safe here, with her, but she knew that such a kind if misuse was not a single case. There were thousands of Hybrids, that weren’t as lucky as Jin and Jungkook. Hybrids, that suffered every day and absolutely no one cared about them, until it was too late.

How could she ever change something in such a cruel world?

The dinner went over the same way as the breakfast. Jin hesitated at first to eat his food, always looking at the girl to ask for permission, but eventually Jungkook managed to convince him, so he ate least at half of his plate. Afterwards, both Hybrids helped her to washed the dishes, before she announced that she would take a shower.

When she was done, she quickly brushed her hair and changed into her pyjama, before returning back into the living room. She stopped in her tracks when she stepped around the corner, while her heart swelled at the scene on the sofa.

Both boys sat on the sofa. Jungkook had laid his head onto his brothers shoulder, cuddling up close to his, while both of their bodies were half covered by the big, fluffy blanket. They had their head turned towards the TV on the wall, watching with wide eyes and open mouths how the yellow figures were running around the screen. They were so fixed on the flickering screen, that they didn’t even noticed how the girl had pulled out her phone, taking the most adorable picture of the two brothers.

She saved the photo into her special album. This would definitely be the picture that will end up at the wall.

“….And then she found me sitting in that alley.” Jin listened to every word Jungkook told him. “She took me in and gave me food and something to drink, like she gave you.”

Night had already taken over the day, and both boys were lying in the double bed in Jungkook’s room. The day had stresses Jin out more than he had ever thought.

Everything about the girl and her life overwhelmed so much, making it really hard for him to process the smallest things. In addition to that, he still felt weak and vulnerable with all the injures covering his body.

He didn’t know what the girl was planning to do with them, and it was hard for him to believe that she acted out of kindness. Humans weren’t nice. They had proven it to him more than enough times. He tried so hard to believe her act, trying to believe it for Jungkook, but he just couldn’t.

This girl…Hope…had bought him from those evil people. She had taken him and Jungkook in, given them some food and a bed to sleep, but when would they have to pay the price?

He sighed lightly and looked over at the bunny, who was still talking like a waterfall. Jungkook looked much better than the last time Jin had seen him. He wasn’t just a pale, skinny boy anymore. His cheeks were plump and full, covered by a natural shade of slight red, the fur on his ear wasn’t greasy and messy, no, it was literally shining and smooth. And when did had he gained those muscles?

He closed his eyes. All those days sitting in this cage in the basement, hoping and praying for Jungkook to be somewhere save had been a torturing for him. His owners adopted him a few years before Jungkook from Korea. They kept in locked in there, alone and scared, only getting him out when they needed him to fight some other Hybrids. But the day they brought Jungkook home, the scared looking, skinny bunny, he knew that he wanted him to have a better life.

Jungkook had been the only reason he kept fighting all those nights. If it wasn’t for him, he would had given up a long time ago.

After Jungkook had escaped that night, the punishments had been worse than before. They looked him up, kicked him or slapped him with that heavy belt. Luckily for him, the inspectors had found the doping liquid in his blood, so they blamed that on his behaviour. If they had found out the real reason he had put up that show, he would be dead by now.

“Jungkook, you know we can’t stay forever, don’t you?” He eventually whispered when the room felt silence.

It broke his heart to see Jungkook’s ears dropping, as he mentioned their parting, but he would never allowed someone to hurt his younger brother again. They had to leave before the situation would turn into a bad one, and they once again would be caught into a nightmare.

“B – But Hyung.” The bunny’s voice cracked, and Jin saw a tear forming in the corner of his eyes. “I don’t want to leave. I like it here and – “

“Jungkook.” Jin’s voice wasn’t angry or loud, as he interrupted him. “You know we can’t. She did more than enough for us. She saved you, and that’s more than I could ever ask for. But she won’t let us stay forever. Why would she? We’re nothing but a burden to her live.”

Jungkook thought for a moment. He fiddled his fingers over the soft duvet, wiggling himself deeper into the soft fabric and next to his brother.

“But she said that – that she liked having me around.” He whispered again, still staring at his fiddling fingers. “And she saved you, too. Maybe if we would ask nicely, she would allow us to stay.”

“I don’t think so, Kook.” The older one sighed slightly, pulling his brother closer into his arms, burring his nose in his hair. “She will soon start to work. She will find herself a boyfriend and then there won’t be enough space for us anymore. I am so sorry.”

Jungkook’s eyes went even wider when he mentioned the word ‘boyfriend’. Jin hadn’t missed the way the younger one talked about the girl. Jungkook saw her as his saviour.

“But – But I thought that maybe – “ He tried again, but Jin knew what he wanted to say.

“Forget it, Kook.” He stopped him in his mid-sentence. “It’s impossible. You will never be more to her than a Hybrid. And even if, what would the people think of her? They will laugh about her. Do you want the people to laugh about her?”

“No! But she wants to defend Hybrids in front of the judge.” Jungkook was desperately trying to make up a reason to not leave the girl. “She likes Hybrids.”

“But she also said that she will not earn much money.” She whispered into Jungkook’s hair. “She will struggle to have enough money for herself, how should she provide us? She will give us away at some point, Kook. It will happen, sooner or later.”

He lifted his and whipped the tear away, that had slide down the bunny’s cheek.

“But Hyung.” Jungkook seemed to accept the fact that they had to leave soon. “Can I take my book with me? It is my favourite and I want to read it again.”

“You can’t, Kook.” Jin whispered back. “There is no room for us to carry a book all the time, beside, it is her book. She will not give it away like that.”

“O – Okay Hyung.” He sniffed and buried his head into the blanket. “But when will we leave?”

“We will wait until my injures are not infected anymore. So I guess a few more days are left.” A gasp left Jungkook’s mouth, but Jin kept talking. “I met a fox Hybrid at the last fight. He told me about the circus a little bit outside the city. He is staying there, too. They are getting foot and a place to sleep. We will try to get a place to stay there.”

“But I don’t want to leave, Jin-Hyung.” Jungkook cried harder, breaking Jin’s heart with every word.

“It will be better like this.”

Jin had stayed with her and Jungkook for a few days now. He and Jungkook seemed to get closer and closer with every hour they would spend together, which is actually a good sign to see, but something has been going on with Jungkook since the day Jin had arrived.

He wasn’t the bubbly, happy boy anymore, who would be lying on the couch upside down, reading his book, or helping her preparing dinner for the three of them, like he did before. He even barely spoke to her at the dining table, which got her worried the most, because usually, he could talk like a waterfall. She barely ever say him again, because he stayed in his room with Jin, and if he was out, he sketched in his note book like crazy.

Hope didn’t say something though. Maybe he had just a bad phase right now, or it was still strange to him that he has his brother around, who also had a difficult past. She had told him several time before, that he could came to her whenever he had problem, so she hoped that he would really come to her when something bad was bothering him.

Jin was another case. He was very polite when she saw him. He would answer her questions with few words, or help her to set and reset the table, before he and Jungkook would disappear in their room. But nothing more.

She sighed. She really missed the times she and Jungkook sat on the couch together, watching the Simpsons all night long, of how they played the guitar together. She had hoped so hard the she would find such a good connection with Jin as well, but with every passing day, this wish seemed to fade away.

It was almost 5 pm, when she decided to stop working. She closed her laptop and leaned herself back in the chair she sat in. Normally, Jungkook and her would be sitting on the couch, talking about random things. She smiled at the memory, when both of them had debated for hours who the best Simpsons character was. She didn’t know that the boy could be so stubborn.

The appointment at the authority was also coming closer and closer, and she still hadn’t talked to the boys about the adoption. Maybe it would cheer Jungkook when he would hear that she wanted to adopt him and his brother. After all, he felt comfortable in her apartment.

She stood up from her chair, bundling all her braveness to talk to the boy, when she heard a door opening.

“Oh, perfect timing you both.” She said happily, as she saw Jin walking out of the room, followed by Jungkook. “I wanted to talk to you. Can you take a – Jungkook? Are you crying?”

The bunny didn’t reply. He just kept his head down and tried to hide behind his older brother. The sound of his whimpers filled the room. What was going on here? First, he started behaving strangely, and now he was crying heavily, something bad was going on here, and she didn’t like the way it went.

“Jungkook, what happened?” Are you okay?” She tried to take a step forward, wanting to comfort the boy, but Jin stopped her.

“We are very thankful for everything you did for me and my brother, Ms. Hope.” He politely bowed his head, before he turned around, nudging Jungkook’s arm slightly. “Come on.”

Jungkook hesitated for a moment, before he dropped his ears. Her heart broke when his swollen eyes looked up at hers. He had clutched his favourite book tightly to his chest, before he turned his head around, looking at Jin. Jin just nodded sadly.

“What is going on? You are scaring me guys.” She tried to make a joke, hoping that this situation wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

Jungkook, however, sniffed again, before he stretched his arms out, holding the book out towards her. He didn’t looked into her eyes.

“Oh Kookie.” She sighed. “If it’s about the book, you can keep it. I don’t want it back.”

The bunny just shook his hand and pushed the book more forward, until she finally took it from.

“Okay, we will leave now. Thank you again for anything.” Jin suddenly said, laying a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and pushing him towards the front door.

It took the girl a while to finally process the situation. This situation wasn’t just bad, this was a farewell. The two Hybrids wanted to leave her…forever. Her mind was racing with questions. Why would they want to leave all the sudden? Did she make them feel uncomfortable in some way?

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” She pushed her feet into the ground, running over to the door and blocking it, before Jin could grab the handle. “You can’t just leave. Why would you leave all the sudden? Did I make you feel uncomfortable? Where you want to go? It’s not safe for you to be out there alone.”

Panic filled her voice and her heart began to beat faster. This was not liked she had planned to the day to end. She felt her eyes swelling up with tears, as she realized that they were serious.

“We don’t want to pull you down, that’s why we are leaving.” Jin said calmly, before he bowed gain. “We are very thankful for all your efforts, though.”

“Okay guys, let’s not rush this, okay?” Her eyes flicked between Jungkook, who was still sniffing and not looking up at her, and Jin, who locked at the girl confused. “First of all, you have never been a burden to me in any kind. Neither you Jin, nor Jungkook. I know that you are scared that I will hurt you at some point, and I know that those people threatened you badly, but I am not like this. How could I ever hurt you? I know that haven’t known each other for long, especially not the both of us, Jin. But I want you to know that those 4 week were one of the most happiest weeks I have had in a very long time. Since I can think, all the people I care about left me. My father, my mother, my friends. They all left me without a reason, not even saying goodbye. I thought that I was meant to be alone, but since I took Jungkook in that night, my live became happy again. He made me happy. And I didn’t save you, Jin, because I had to, I saved you because I care about you and Jungkook. I just – I can’t force you to stay with me, and – and if you really want to leave I won’t be the one to stop you, but I am begging you to think about it again. Please.”

The room was left in silence after she had stopped speaking. No on, especially not the two Hybrids knew what to say or what to do.

“I don’t want to leave.” Jungkook suddenly cried.

He made a few steps forward and just threw himself into the girl’s arms. He buried his face into her neck, with his arms wrapped tightly around her slim waist. The girl wrapped her arms around the bunny, softly driving her hands through his deep brown hair, whispering sweet words into his ear.

They stayed like this for several minutes, until Jungkook pulled away from the girl. She took his face in her hands and softly whipped the tears away from his wet cheeks, before pressing a short kiss onto the top of his nose.

“Do you really care for us?” She moved her eyes away from Jungkook in front of her. “You really care for us enough that you let us stay with you without any conditions? What will the people think about you when – “

“I never cared about other people’s opinion about me.” She quickly interrupted him. “They can think about me whatever they want to think. Only I know what is true and what is false about my life, and only I decide who I want to have in my life or not. You and Jungkook, you deserve so much more than to be treatened like animals. I know that I can’t offer you much, but I want to try to give you the life you deserve, a life love and safety. I am begging you to give me another chance. Give me a chance, and if you want to leave after that again, I won’t stop you.”

Jin’s gaze dropped to the ground, his ears sinking down. Hope knew what for a hard decision he had to make, and she knew that he didn’t decide whether it was good for him or not, but if it was good for Jungkook or not.

“I – “ She coughed, not knowing if her idea would make the situation better or worse. “I actually wanted to ask you something earlier. When I bought you, Jin, from those people, I had to sign some adoption papers, so I can legally take you with me, but I still haven’t changed your owner status at the authority, wanting to let the choice to you, whether you want to stay or not. I also wanted to ask Jungkook, if he would be okay with me adopting him, once I am at the authority.”

Both Hybrids were staring at the small girl with their eyes open.

“Are you really serious?” Jungkook eye’s seemed to pop out of his head, sparkling brightly.

He hugged the girl again, while Jin just looked with wide and teary eyes at the girl.

“Can you promise us, that you will never hurt us in any way?” Jin had the tears standing in his eyes.

“I – no I can’t.” She whispered, knowing that any other answer would be a lie. “I can’t promise you that everything is going to be perfect, and I can’t promise you that I will always make the right decision. But I can promise you that I will never leave you, and that you will always find a friend in me, don’t matter what will happen in the future.”

Jin kept looking at the girl, not saying anything.

“Hyung.” Jungkook turned back towards his brother, taking his hand in his. “Please, let us stay with Hope. Please. I don’t want to live on the streets again, not knowing what will happen next. I am so scared.”

Jin’s eyes flicked between the girl and his brother. Anything he ever wanted was for his brother to be safe. The girl made him happy, he saw it too. But the fear, that at some point she will change her mind and break his heart was still sitting in his bones. Never again, he would let anyone hurt Jungkook again.

But then, she had never showed any hints that she wanted to hurt them. Should they really take the risk and stay with this human for the rest of their lives? He had no clue.

“We will – “ He looked into the begging eyes of his brother. “Okay. We will stay.”

[taglist]

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⇉ wanna be added? Just write me a message!

[Inspirations | Recommendations]

@wishesunderthestars

@agustdakasuga

@ditttiii

@angelicyoongie

@starlightauroras-writes

[arhvste]

❝ kuroo tetsurō - domestic hcs ❞

tetsu week masterlist

-> responsible man 😼

-> he won’t slack on his part in chores don’t worry about that

-> your house will always be presentable and clean

-> kuroo is a man with a sense of pride and it will show through the way your house looks

-> that being said, he’s not a clean freak

-> he naturally knows how to keep things presentable and tidy

-> his grandmother didn’t raise no slacker 😾

-> even as a teen kuroo was relatively tidy

-> the only chaos in his room being his desk which would remain littered with new papers and books every week

-> other than that, his room was kept clean and stayed clean

-> back to your house though

-> you guys will have houseplants

-> “if they eventually cut all the trees down at least we’ll have our own supply of air 😼”

-> “that’s not how oxygen works tetsu we’d still die along with the houseplants”

-> “i don’t like your lack of optimism, i reckon we could sell our air like that rich guy from the lorax”

-> “you really take every opportunity to show the world you’re a capitalist and run with it 🤩👍”

-> kuroo is actually knowledgeable on plants because his grandparents had a small greenhouse at the back of their garden

-> you thought grandma kuroo cooked from store bought ingredients?

-> you thought wrong 😼

-> herself and kuroos grandfather taught kuroo how to grow his own veggies and look after them properly and when they were right to pick

-> kuroo took that knowledge and know he keeps his own small vegetable patch in your garden 😼

-> your man said ‘go green 🤩’

-> house plants are your responsibility though

-> he handles the plants outside and you handle the houseplants

-> he insisted upon this because he wanted to be attentive towards his vegetables and he really liked the hose you guys bought for the garden

-> the one with multiple options, you know the one i’m talking about right?

-> ‘jet’ is his personal fav 😈

-> he will spray you when you turn to go inside so feel free to throw a gardening glove at him or something

-> “do that again and i’ll put snails on your tomato patch 🥰”

-> “you wouldn’t 😠”

-> so whike kuroo takes care of the outdoor plants and you take care of the indoor plants you split general chores

-> he takes out the trash,, as he should

-> you put the washing machine on and hang the wet washing out

-> he folds the dry washing and brings it back in and you take turns ironing and cooking on various nights

-> mmm kuroo in an apron 🥺

-> he’ll roll his sleeves up and then insist you tie the ribbon on his apron because “you do it best”

-> he’s bought you matching aprons btw 😐

-> yes the ‘mr and mrs’ type of ones

-> when you first opened them, you were like 😀

-> and he was like 🤩 because he was very proud of himself for finding them

-> you take turns cooking but if you’ve had a particularly long day he’ll insist on doing it and have you lie down on the couch while he chats to you about your day

-> nice versa too, if he’s come home from work stressed or tired you’ll offer to cook and he’d never say no to that

-> one thing you always do together is shower and bath

-> kuroo says it’s good for the environment but he really just wants to see you nakey

-> not even in a sexual way though

-> although, if you’ve been missing each other a lil he might initiate something 😼

-> but generally he is so ridiculously in love with you and just wants to worship everything for what you are

-> he thinks you’re beautiful and finds moments of tranquility in washing each other

-> “god just look at you”

-> “tetsu 😖”

-> “no, i mean it, how’d i end up with someone as perfect as you?”

-> little wet butterfly kisses under the shower 🥺

-> he also to shower with you because he loves when you wash his hair especially

-> he loves the way your fingers get lost in the inky black locks

-> you brush his hair out of his face and get to see his cute lil forehead 😖🥺

-> he will lean down for you to kiss it btw

-> he’s expecting it so you have to deliver

-> after showers he’ll help you get dressed

-> you’ll have one of his old shirts on

-> literally does everytime he sees you in them which is every night so

-> “i fall for you more each time you wear that”

-> ew he’s such a sappy loser

-> but that’s okay you love him

-> overall domestic life with kuroo is easy

-> it’s very even and teamwork is a key factor

-> and he’ll always be your team player when it comes to housework

dt - @aislastetsu

general taglist → @atsumuwoah @bloody-bella @bbymilkbread @miracleboy420 @doggonudez @tsumue @peteunderoos @tsukkisbean @saturnfarie @toffees-main @zumisace @boosyboo9206 @totorosleaff @27kei @dai-tsukki-desu @angrylittleriri @tsukkaria @kuxredere @warakou @mattsuny @lovinnoya @sophiashortcake

ALL CONTENT BELONGS TO @KUROOSKULT ON TUMBLR 2020 PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, CHANGE OR PLAGIARISE

[heresathreebee]

Brackish And Briny Waters (three)

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

Summary: Spend the weekend painting the house with your husband. Previous Masterlist Next

Tags: 17+ | 1.6k words | Painting a house together, aka domestic stuff, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, pulling out, vague mention of rats.

AN: part 4 is gonna get angsty I just finished it

Anything involving greens was a heavy battle between you two, as Ralph seemed to have some kind of vendetta against them. The more blue you got, the less you fought and you eventually settled on a cool tone to use for the laundry room with a compromise to paint floral accents in a forest green tone along the edges of the back wall. You did find an exact replica of one of the original wallpapers in your second bedroom which you wanted to move to the living room. 

Colors selected and purchased, you went home starving and managed to scrape together some left overs with a side of rice to fuel you to start on the real work. You also bought brown paper to cover the solar room window holes until you can finish that room as its own project. 

Ralph rolls up his sleeves and puts on his bleach stained lounge pants to help. You lay down tarp and use up 3 rolls of tape to cover the kitchen and the dining room. Every window and door is wide open as you set your record player to play some 'whistle while you work' type of albums. And whistle he does that husband of yours, enjoying your company and shaking his hips dramatically to make you laugh. You two haven't had this much fun in so long it feels like. 

The summer citrus color you chose for the kitchen was really working for you. Ralph intended to put the wallpaper up in the other room to get 'double the work done' but still you find him working the same wall just to be close to you. You talk about missing that classic NYC pizza and dinner tomorrow and Ralph promises to ask his colleagues about any music shops in the area. 

You take a nap on the porch swing to get away from the paint fumes, an iced tea almost slipping from your hand. When dinner time comes, you cook while he details the removal of the old wallpaper from the dining room to work tomorrow. He's rambling about using a third coat on the living room paint and you don't think it's necessary but you know he'll agree with you come morning. 

"Come eat Ralph Vincent," you scold him for getting paint on the door frame but all is forgiven when he sweeps you into a hungry kiss. 

"I'd rather eat you right now." 

Ralph's flirtations are interrupted by his own ractious growling stomach and you laugh at him as you shove a plate into his hand. You eat together by the window in the living room. While it hasn't been painted yet, you have moved the furniture to the middle of the room and the fumes from the kitchen and dining room are still very strong. You hope it doesn't affect your sleep tonight (or hope it puts you down like a dose of melatonin). 

"Floyd's got a boat," Ralph tells you. "Says he takes it out on the water almost every day. Asked if I wanted to join him." 

"And are you?" You spin another forkful of angel hair spaghetti on your plate. 

Ralph slurps his like a child. "Am I what." 

"Are you going to join him on his boat?" You speak slowly and patronizingly. Ralph pinches your breast and almost makes you drop your plate. "No. I hate boats. I hate water. I don't want to be trapped for hours out there listening to him talk about paintings and philosophers, at least at work I can walk away." 

You chuckle. "I think Floyd sounds very interesting. What do you have against him?" 

"Nothing," he protests, "he talks too much. He's loquacious– that's what Justine calls him, and she's one to talk. If you must know, he's actually my favorite– he knows when to keep his nose out of my business." 

Dishes are made slightly more difficult with Ralph hanging off your shoulders. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, even finds a hickey from the morning that's started to fade and he remarks you. You dig your dripping fingers into his hair when he finds that spot on your neck and gives it some much needed attention. 

"Ralphie, baby, please," you whisper, "I could use your help with these." 

Dishes are done in record time and suddenly you're being whisked away to your bedroom (not that you were complaining). This room has the wallpaper that you had no intention to change aside from a fresh upgrade. Ralph takes your hand to spin you around and back you into your shared room all the way to the edge of the bed. Along the way he plants kisses from your hairline to your collarbone before he lets you fall atop the thick quilted bedspread. 

He gazes at you with a warm expression. The soft "my girl" he whisperes makes your heart swell. 

You expect him to pick up your legs and pull you by your knees to the outside of his hips (want him to even), but Ralph has other ideas it seems. It's not until his head is between your legs that you realize what he's up to (or rather down to). You gasp a lung full of air and grab him by the hair of his head. 

"Jesus," you sigh. 

Your husband's rumbling laughter causes your thighs to twitch. "Say my name, I'm the one doing all the work." 

"Yeah but you love– aha!" His beard brushes your inner thighs and leaves a delightful burning sensation in the deepest part of your soul. "Fuck…" 

You pull his hair harder and feel the soft locks stretch in your bloodless grasp. You can feel that immortal coil wind tighter and tighter inside you as Ralph devours you. You start chanting his name, the pitch of your voice beginning to crescendo the closer you get to that fire cracker ending. Ralph doubles his efforts, eager to have you fall apart on his tongue and fingers. 

He's more than making it up to you tonight. 

When you come, your body curls in on itself and your thighs lock around his head, effectively deafening him. You have no idea if he can hear the scream that rips from your body but you can't either as your eyes rolls back in ecstasy. 

You relax onto the bed and feel it dip with an additional weight to your side. You slide into Ralph's easy embrace, his dry hand coming up to hold you to him and just rest for a bit. 

"Fuck," you say huskily, "you're really good at that…" 

Ralph kisses you in answer, trying to deepen the connection but you have to twist away to catch your breath. Instead he plants lingering, sweet kisses on your neck, your cheek, your hair. His hand caresses your back in circles until you're nearly asleep from the motion. 

You flinch when you feel his nose brush against yours. "Baby… don't fall asleep." He sounds so sweet until his voice darkens and he says, "I'm not done with you yet." 

You lose track of time and all you can feel is Ralph Lamont. You're both covered in a sheen of sweat and his hips rock leisurely into yours. You don't know who grabbed who but your hands are tangled together and refuse to let go. Ralph's breath dusts over your neck, cool in contrast to the fire of his physical form pressed against you. You want to come again but you let him draw it out, let him love you tonight. 

"Ralph." You whisper in his ear, begging with no pressure to change pace. You're happy if he's happy and he is very content to keep thrusting into you to his peak and slow down, never stopping but always making you want more. Your man kisses you flush on the mouth and adjusts his position. His thrusts change. They grow from hypotonic and shallow to a little hard and more purposeful. You moan at the feeling, your legs locking around his hips to draw him deeper despite your exhaustion. 

Your orgasm washes over you nice and gentle, nothing like the force of the first time. You're conscious enough to lock your ankles around Ralph's hips, but it still doesn't prevent him from slipping his flushed and reddened cock out and finishing on your stomach as he always intended. You feel a strange tickle of disappointment as you come down from your high but push it to the back of your mind for later. 

Some way, somehow, Ralph still has enough strength to clean you both up and tuck you into bed. He curls around your body despite the near unbearable heat and falls fast asleep, his soft snores right behind your ear lulling you under the tide of sleep. 

DAY FOUR

"Morning." 

Your Saturday is awash of more painting and moving furniture with Ralph. He made coffee and eggs and brought it to you in bed, then dragged you down to look at the frayed wires on the clothes dryer machine. 

"Might be rodents," you muse. "I'll get some traps on Monday and find my soldering iron." 

"We'll get traps tonight," your husband countered, scratching his chin, "the sooner the better." 

You finish removing the old wallpaper in the living room and carefully put up the new one with little fuss. The kitchen still smells of paint but it's dry (it had better be, you left the windows open all night and it's freezing in here) so you put the kitchen utensils and appliances back and remove the protective tape and brown paper. Ralph is proud of the precision work done in the corners and edges, patting himself on the back and yours. 

"We did good babe," he said, "by this time next week, we'll have the whole house done!" 

You laugh at his optimism. There were still cobwebs to dust, cracks to spackle, floors to polish, windows to replace. This was the very reason he picked this place… 

To keep you busy. To keep your mind from wandering to those dark places that linger in your past. 

At least it was working.

Tagging people who might like to know: @werwulfy @hoodoo12 @escape-your-grape @go-commander-kim @fundamentally-lazy @mimiscappinisideblog do y'all wanna be here? If not lemme know please 😅 DM me

[allsassnoclass]

Prompt: 28, 10 and Lashton

You said lashton in an art gallery.  I said Off-Screen circa 2017 (aka Luke’s Utah Era).  this might feel a little out of context, because it is. the theoretical prequel that I'm writing would explain more of the surrounding circumstance, but the most important thing to note is that Luke moved in with Ashton in Utah after the end of the SLFL tour.  This takes place in January of 2017.

lashton: “Where are all of my hoodies? Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?” + art gallery

The last guest has left when Luke arrives, the gallery technically beginning to close for the night.  Ashton is tired, all of the frantic energy from the past few months building up to this evening of schmoozing and revealing the deepest parts of his soul to be judged by the art community, and he feels empty now that it has passed.  There’s a glass of some sort of fancy alcohol in his hand, but he hasn’t had the chance to drink it all night, and his suit feels like it doesn’t fit his shoulders correctly.  It’s been bothering him, but he’s been too focused on smiling genially and making nice with every single person who passed through the doors to look at his art to do anything about it.

The sound of the main doors opening is loud in the quiet of the space, and Ashton tenses where he’s talking to the owner of the gallery.  He relaxes once he sees that it’s not another art snob or a random person who got lost, but Luke.  He stands at the threshold awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of one of Ashton’s college hoodies, beanie stuffed unceremoniously over his hair.  It’s getting longer, and he’s been letting it curl more instead of spending hours styling it and trying to get it to sit right.

He looks just as breathtaking as ever, and Ashton is almost overwhelmed with how lucky he feels to be one of the only people to see famous rockstar Luke Hemmings with his guard completely down.

“Luke,” he sighs, relief too obvious.  Luke just smiles and wanders, stopping short when something in a painting catches his eye.

“Friend of yours?” the gallery owner asks, and Ashton turns his attention back to her.  It’s too easy to forget that anyone else exists the moment Luke enters a room.  Ashton needs to get a grip.

“Yeah, that’s my housemate.  Do you mind if we look around for a bit?  He couldn’t make the normal gallery times.”

He logistically could have, because Luke doesn’t have responsibilities here in Utah, but Ashton knows that the idea of him having to look nice, be in a crowd of people, and possibly be recognized almost sent him into a panic attack.

“Sure.  I’m locking up by 10, though, so be out before then.”

Ashton thanks her profusely, and the look she gives him is a bit too knowing for his taste.  Still, she heads towards the back with an artistic grace, and Ashton joins Luke where he’s staring at one of Ashton’s paintings.

“Hi,” he says quietly.  Luke leans into him in a practiced move, shoulders brushing together.  Luke has always been familiar and comfortable, despite how little they see each other.

Ashton knows he should feel bad that Luke felt so lost in LA that he had to come all the way to Utah and Ashton to try and find himself, but selfishly he’s glad.  For a few months, he gets Luke to himself, curled up on his couch and eating at his kitchen island instead of off traveling the world and meeting adoring fans.  Besides, having Luke here helps.  Ashton can’t take care of another person if he’s drunk every night, and meals are easier to prepare when there are two people to eat them.  It’s easier to fall asleep if someone else is breathing slowly next to him.  It’s easier to keep the loneliness at bay with Luke stepping into the gaps in his life.

“Was it a good showing?” Luke asks.

“It was,” he replies, resisting the urge to do something inappropriate like pull Luke closer and tuck his face into his neck just to breathe him in.  “I even sold a few paintings.”

“You did?” Luke lights up.  “Ashton, that’s amazing!  Which ones?  Wait, I want to see them all anyway.  Walk me through them as we go.”

Ashton does, trying his best to remember the thought process and inspiration behind each of the paintings hanging in the gallery.  For the earlier works it’s easier, because objects inside are more defined and they have clearer stories.  For recent creations featuring bold strokes and swirls of color and more ambiguous shapes, the inspirations shift towards ideas.  Some of them he created while drunk, and he has to check the title cards to figure out what he was going for, because while drunk Ashton isn’t good for much, he at least always writes titles in his notes app when he paints.

His professors made him include some of those works, saying that a few are profound and mesmerizing and probably your best work.  It makes Ashton feel like he can’t create anything if he doesn’t have a few drinks in him.  It’s a mindset he’s trying to move away from, but it’s hard.  At least he has endless inspiration with Luke in the house.

Luke looks at a piece entitled Longing for a few minutes, and Ashton prays that he doesn’t ask who or what he was longing for while painting it.

“Come on,” he says when the swirl of blues and purples (with just that shimmer of gold to represent the person of desire, possibly forming a hazy constellation of Luke to anyone who knows what to look for) becomes too much.  “I want to show you the synesthesia section.”

“Section” is a generous term, because it’s actually just four paintings on the same wall.  He has many more paintings for various songs and albums back home, most of them on smaller canvases he can get from the craft store, but there are a few songs that evoke such strong, beautiful visuals that he had to paint them properly.

The first painting has a primarily blue background, mixing with black in short strokes by the edges.  Traveling diagonally across the canvas are an assortment of other colors, mostly yellows and reds until they meet strokes of white in the middle.  The paint is thick, creating textured mountains where the colors meet, and that’s Ashton’s favorite part about painting, really.  He’s not very good at 3D forms, but paint never lays completely flat.  He likes how dynamic it is because of it.

“Gravity,” Luke croons as he looks, “is working against me.”

Ashton loves hearing him sing.  He was worried for those first few weeks Luke came to him, because he rarely heard it, but now he can count on random melodies filling the house at all hours.

“John Mayer makes nice songs to look at,” he says.  Luke smiles at him, then they move on to the next one.

This painting has a bit more variety in color.  Ashton remembers mixing them on his pallet, unbothered by the streaks it caused in the brush strokes, knowing that it was necessary to capture what the song makes him see.  A dark background gives way to a curve of reds, purples, pinks, blues, ending in some greens and yellows and a hint of orange.  He splattered white and black on afterwards, just a little bit near the middle of the curve, and Luke leans forward to see all the small dots.

“This one really does look like ‘Karma Police,’” Luke says.  “Even I can see it.”  He straightens and gives Ashton another grin, and he knows that he can’t capture that smile in a painting (he’s tried, so many times), but he still wants to attempt it again.

“I can’t believe how talented you are,” Luke says.  “It’s almost unfair.”

“Thanks,” he says, ducking his head.  Luke nudges him with his elbow and moves on to the next painting.  This one follows a similar pattern to the other two, a dark background with color in the middle, but it’s messier.  Blue and purple feature the most, but there are hints of orange and yellow, and white overtakes the painting in peaked chunks and thin streaks.

“You’d think that for a Prince song, there’d be a bit more purple,” Luke says, tilting his head.

“Maybe he should have written more purple songs, then,” Ashton shrugs.  “‘Joy in Repetition’ has more blue.”

“Wait, is “Purple Rain” even purple?” Luke asks, alarmed.

“Yes, that one fits the title.”  Luke looks reassured at that, and they continue to the last painting.  Ashton feels nerves clench in his stomach.

He didn’t submit any of his photographs or colored pencil sketches of Luke, not even the really good one of Luke sleeping in his bed with an arm over his face that Ashton drew one night when the insomnia was hitting him hard, but this painting could be just as damning.  It’s different from the other three because it’s slightly bigger and oriented differently, vertical instead of horizontal.  The background is also based in white instead of black, primarily creating a pale blue to match the cautious optimism of the song.  More blue meets with seafoam green, peach, and white in the middle, dripping down the canvas until all the colors fade into just the green.  The lines of this one are smoother, blended together evenly, but there are bursts of gold in the middle and near a few edges that he bought a specific brand of metallic paint for.  Ashton watches as Luke’s eyes trace the painting before he turns to the name card.

“Luke?” he asks when a few moments have gone by with him completely frozen.

“Really?” Luke asks, voice cracking.  “This is what you see?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says.  He knew he was going to end up painting the song as soon as he first heard Luke’s voice singing about tasting the ocean.  “It’s mostly “Outer Space,” but I incorporated some of what I saw for “Carry On” at the bottom.”

“Oh,” Luke says, then turns and tucks himself into a hug, squeezing Ashton tight enough that he feels short of breath.  Ashton wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and letting Luke cuddle into him in a way that he’s almost getting too big for.

“I take it you like it?” he asks, just to be sure.  Luke nods, and when he does finally pull away he swipes at his eyes with the sleeve of Ashton’s sweatshirt.

“Can I buy it?” he asks.

“Luke, you can have it for free.”  Luke shakes his head vigorously.

“No, you’ve already given me too much.  I want to buy it from you.  You should be paid for your art.”

“Okay,” Ashton says quietly.  Luke’s eyes are still fixed on the painting, and Ashton comes back to slide a hand around his waist again.  “We can negotiate a price later.”  He presses a kiss to Luke’s temple, because that’s something he can get away with still.

“Don’t try to give me a discount.  I’ve already stolen your food and half your clothes.”

“Speaking of,” Ashon says, “I’m absolutely positive that this hoodie was the last one in my closet.  Where are all my hoodies?  Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?”

“Yeah,” Luke says sheepishly.  “They’re comfortable.  They smell like you.”

Luke is going to kill him like this.  Ashton can’t even be upset, because what a way to go, but things like that are not helping him keep a lid on how absolutely head-over-heels he is.

“I’d be more upset if you didn’t look so good in them,” Ashton says before he can stop himself.  Luke’s breathing stutters, but he doesn’t do anything besides lean a little closer.  Ashton’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“Come on,” Luke says.  “I still want to see the rest of your pieces, then we can go home.”

Home, Ashton repeats to himself.  Luke thinks of your house as his home.

They wander their way through the last few canvases, then stop briefly in the photograph and colored pencil room before stepping out onto the street.  Their hands brush as they walk, and Ashton wonders if he can get away with grabbing Luke’s.  This night feels significant in so many ways.  Something has shifted, and he’s not sure if it has to do with his art career or the man beside him.  He wants it to be both so badly he aches with it.

When they have two more blocks to go before reaching the house, Luke reaches over and threads their fingers together.

A/N: I don’t have synesthesia, but the first three song paintings really exist and can be found here. the one for os/co was made up by me.

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Broken Arrow

Of all the windows she could see from the front of the building there was only light behind a single one of them. That told Felicity everything that she needed to know.

With large steps, she crossed the distance towards the steps and hurried upstairs. Michael and Joe, the two night guards were standing in front of the doors, smoking a nightly cigarette. As soon as Michael, the older of the two, saw her, he stubbed out his cigarette and held the door open for her.

“Good evenings, Mrs. Queen.”

“It’s rather a good night,” Felicity replied with a tired smile, “good evening to you too.”

When she stepped through the open door, she looked at Michael. He didn’t seem willing to follow her inside for the usual security check. She perked up her eyebrows at that, but he just waved it off.

“If you wanted to kill your husband, I’d assume you did it at home.”

“Very true,” Felicity replied, “which is why I will get him home now.”

“About time.” Joe, who was still standing next to the ashtray, took a puff of his cigarette. “He’s going to work himself to death otherwise.”

Felicity nodded her head in agreement before she turned away and headed towards the stairs. Joe’s words were still echoing in her head. She knew that he was right. Oliver was going to work himself to death if he continued the way he was handling things right now.

It had been a week since Starling City had been shaken by another earthquake. Again, the Glades had been hit the most. Again, buildings had collapsed and buried people beneath them for hours until they had been found. Again, people had died. Again, a Queen family member was taking responsibility for it.

This time, the Queen Family wasn’t to blame though.

Felicity shook her head slightly when she turned into the hallway which led to Oliver’s office. He was probably brooding over papers that told him the number of casualties and critically as well as slightly injured people the earthquake had caused or how much it would cost to fix the damage. Maybe, he was even reading some of those stupid articles that stated how the damage could have been minimized.

It was stupid, Felicity thought to herself and shook her head once more, how easily the Queen Family or at least Oliver had been blamed for the consequences of the earthquake. Felicity got that the people living in the Glades were putting their blame on him because they needed somebody to blame. That high-ranking politicians of the city were doing so wasn’t fair though.

Oliver hadn’t done anything wrong. He had optimized the earthquake warning machines and the fitting protocol regularly. He had handled the critical hours and days after the earthquake well. He had even gone out there and helped people in person because he hadn’t just been reacting to the earthquake as mayor but also as a good human being that cared about this city deeply. There was nothing that Oliver could blame himself for.

Still, in those eight days since the earthquake, Oliver hadn’t come home. She hadn’t seen him at all except from the few video calls they had had. No call, with or without video, had lasted longer than ten minutes though. Oliver had always been busy.

After eight nights that Oliver had caught little to no sleep, Felicity had decided that enough was enough. Somebody had to stop him. Who would do it if Felicity wasn’t going to do it?

The door to Oliver’s office was opened slightly. Felicity knew that he usually liked to have it closed because the many noises from the hallways were distracting him. Oliver heard a lot better than most people. His years in hell had trained him to have his eyes and ears open for any possible danger, and he was almost unable to switch that off now. If Oliver had left the door open, he must had been deep in thought because he even closed it when nobody was there.

Felicity put her flat hand against the door and pushed it open. Oliver was sitting behind his desk. The jacket of his suit was put over the backrest of his leather chair. He had opened the first two buttons of his shirt and he had rolled up the sleeves. His hair was tousled as he had probably torn it again and again. Although Felicity couldn’t see his face, she was sure that it looked tired if she got to take a look at it.

That Oliver didn’t notice her standing in the door told Felicity how deep in thought he was. He was hypervigilant most times, so his lack in attention said a lot about his current mental state.

When Felicity cleared her throat, Oliver flinched. He ripped his head back, looking at her with threatening eyes that grew a lot warmer once he realized that it was her standing there and nobody else. A long sigh of relief fell from his lips in one moment, be he already frowned worriedly the next.

“Are the kids alright?”

“Not really, no,” Felicity replied, stepping into his office and approaching his desk slowly, “because they haven’t seen their father in a week.”

Oliver sighed once more, closing his eyes. He kept them closed for a long moment, pinching his nasal bridge. He was shaking his head softy.

Felicity watched Oliver. Seeing his face, he looked even more exhausted than she had assumed from what she had seem from the door. The shadows under his eyes were almost black. His eyes were small and slightly swollen. He hadn’t shaved, so his stubble had actually grown a lot thicker.

Eventually, Oliver rested his head back and looked at Felicity with tired eyes. Smiling sadly, Felicity lifted her hand and put it to Oliver’s cheek. He leaned his face into her touch instantly. His nose pressed against her wrist, breathing her in.

When his eyes locked with her the next time, there was an almost defeated expression in them. He knew that she wouldn’t let him get away with what had happened the last week easily. She wouldn’t just let him apologize and come home with her. They both knew that Oliver wouldn’t be able to relax until he had got everything off his chest.

Nodding his head slightly, Oliver straightened up a little. His hands moved over the mess of papers on his desk. He pulled some of the closer, while pushing others away and even trashing some. Felicity waited patiently.

“So, our priority is to make sure that the people who have lost their homes. Some of them are living with friends and family. Others are still in the emergency homes. I have bought some multifamily homes in the names of Starling, so everyone can move into provisory homes by the end of the next week. I have also made sure that the building companies that are assigned to rebuilt the collapsed buildings are supported.”

Felicity could see that Oliver was calming down as he talked to her. She guessed that everyone had been so busy with their own assignments in handling this crisis that Oliver hadn’t had many people to talk with aside from the daily meetings that had taken place. Oliver needed someone to tell him that he was doing great and doing everything he could though. John usually did that for him, but he was handling crisis management in regards to some crime issues and currently out of town for that.

“Apart from that, the need for psychological help has grown immensely. The new earthquake has triggered the old trauma that a lot of people still have after the Undertaking. I have located two advice centers for people in need.”

Still listening to everything Oliver told her, Felicity got up from the desk. She walked around him to take position behind him. Her hands moved to his shoulders, massaging them. She could feel the tight knots that had built in his muscles.

“I have already visited some of the patients that are currently treated at Starling General,” Oliver continued to explain, “and there are problems with taking care of the family’s children in six cases. I have managed to shelter all these kids with responsible local families, so neither of them had to be given into the care of child protective service and- oh my god.”

When Felicity dug her fingers tightly into some particularly hard tension in Oliver’s muscles, his eyes rolled back into his head before they fluttered shut. He leaned more and more back, pressing his tight back into the touch of her fingers. His head fell back onto the backrest of his chair. His fingers grabbed her wrists, keeping her hands exactly where they were.

“Sleeping on the couch is not good for you.”

“I have slept on worse.”

Felicity knew exactly what Oliver had been going through in the years that had followed the Gambit’s shipwreck. Sleeping on cold ground had been the least of his problems back then. It did offer a quite visual impression of what he must have gone through though.

With a sigh, Felicity wrapped her arms around Oliver’s shoulders from behind and leaned her face against his. Oliver moved his cheek against hers a couple of times.

“You are doing great,” Felicity whispered with her lips brushing against his ear, tightening her arms around him, “the best anyone could.”

Felicity knew that Oliver wouldn’t exactly agree with her. He knew that he was doing well, but he was always looking for ways to improve. He was that kind of person, always aiming for more even if he was doing great already.

“You have to relax now,” Felicity told him with soft voice and kissed the shell of his ear, “because you can only do more of the good things you already have been doing when you are relaxed and energized to do so.”

Oliver sighed, snuggling his head against the side of her face once more. When he turned his head, he brushed a featherlight kiss against the corners of her lips.

“I am not sure that I can relax then.”

Pulling back slightly, Felicity watched Oliver’s face. She could see that he meant it. He had honest doubt that he could relax. He wanted to because he knew how important it was to her and to him too, but he didn’t know if he could. There were too many things stuck in his head and too many thoughts making his stomach tighten.

“Back-up plan then.”

“Back-up pl- hm…”

The moment Felicity stepped around his chair and dropped her coat to the floor, the words died on Oliver’s lips and he hummed instead. His right eyebrow perked up slightly while he was letting his gaze travel down her body. She was only wearing one of his shirts, panties and her shoes since she had already been in bed when she had decided that it was time to get her man home.

“I figured that if you couldn’t be convinced easily,” Felicity said slowly, straddling his lap and pressing the juncture of her legs against where he was already growing hard in his pants, “if I came with good arguments.”

“I am already convinced.” Oliver put his hands to her hips, pulling her even closer and rubbing his hips against hers. “My body could need some motivation to pass out though, and we both know what happens after sex.”

Felicity chuckled, knowing exactly what he was referring to. Oliver usually passed out within ten minutes after sex. If he had to, he could delay his death-like sleep until night, but sex always made him quite tired. Hopefully, it would help him here too.

“It’s going to be my pleasure to help you relax.”

With that, Felicity leaned forward and captured Oliver’s lips in a kiss. It started out slow and gentle. It was a sweet way of welcoming each other back. There were no words needed for both of them to understand that they loved each other and had missed each other terribly. They hadn’t spent a week apart in like forever.

Soon, their kiss grew into more though. Their lips opened to the touch of each other’s tongues. They danced together slowly and intimately. Felicity’s hips shifted closer against Oliver’s in response. They picked up a rhythm of their own, thrusting against Oliver’s hips at the same time that her tongue stroked against his.

Their rocking movements spurred them. Oliver’s hands moved from Felicity’s hips over her legs to her knees. From there, they started a slow path up her legs again. They pushed the hem of his shirt up her body, getting them out of the way for the touch of his hands.

His touch felt so good, Felicity thought to herself and thanked him for the warmth he spent on her skin by gently biting into his bottom lip. Goosebumps were spreading on her skin wherever he touched her, and a warm shiver of absolute comfortableness was running down her spine.

“Oliver.”

She whispered his name into the kiss. It was a sign of how turned on she was and how she wanted to move things along. At the same time, she knew that whispering his name that hoarsely while her hips were thrusting against his turned him on beyond belief. She could literally feel the blood rushing towards his groin.

Oliver stroked his tongue against hers one last time before he grabbed hold of her hips and pushed her further away from him. He grabbed hold of his belt, but Felicity was too impatient to wait until he had unfastened it. She pushed his hands away, making work of his belt quickly. She unbuttoned his pants and lowered the zipper at the same time. Oliver wiggled his hips, helping her to pull his pants and boxers down in one go.

Hovering over Oliver’s lap, she stroked her hand through his hair and pulled at some strands lightly. Oliver angled his head back. His eyes locked with hers. His pupils were blown wide, and his fingers tightened around her small hips.

Felicity felt her heart skipping a beat. She had missed Oliver so much, even more than she had known so far. She knew that she was her own person, and she had insisted on having something for herself for a long time already. Still, she only felt like she was whole if Oliver was around. He was such a great part of herself, and she didn’t feel inferior when she admitted that she needed him to feel whole. It just showed how close they were, and how they had made the right decision by getting married to one another.

Slowly and with her eyes still locked onto Oliver’s, Felicity sank down onto Oliver’s cock. He stretched her perfectly in that special way that was so familiar and still felt so excitingly new every time. Her slick walls welcomed Oliver gladly, snuggling around his hard cock and squeezing down on it gently.

Once he was seated deep inside of her, they both stilled. Oliver’s fingers tightened around Felicity’s hips for a moment longer before they moved up her body. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, she could feel the warmth of his hands. They made her feel warm and caused her to sink even more against Oliver’s chest.

When Oliver’s fingers reached the nape of her neck, tickling the sensitive skin there, Felicity released a hum. As low as the sound she made was, it vibrated through all of her body and made her need for Oliver grow even more.

Oliver put his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her down towards him. Their lips met in a searing kiss while their hips picked up a slow, almost lazy, rhythm. Felicity sighed into the kiss, her hands grabbing the fabric of his shirt at the shoulders and tightening around it.

With the way they moved, their hips thrusted together harmonically. Whenever Felicity thrusted down, Oliver thrusted up to meet his rhythm. Her clit rubbed against his pelvic. Both made her pleasure rise quickly, causing her to feel hot and cold at the same time and making her need only more.

When it came to Oliver, she always needed more. She needed more of his hands roaming over her body. She needed more of his lips stealing hot kisses from her mouth. She needed more of his hips thrusting against hers and touching spots inside of her that only he had ever managed to stimulate.

Their joint moans echoed through the room as they moved towards the peak of their pleasure. Since the door to the hallway was still left ajar, Felicity was sure that it could be heard outside of Oliver’s office too. The building was empty though, so Felicity couldn’t care less. Actually, the thought of how their sounds of pleasure were echoing through the entire building only turned her on more.

Soon, Felicity felt the peak of her pleasure nearing. Her need for breath grew too much to take at the same time. She pulled back, finally managing to take in a shallow but urgently needed breath. Oliver tried to chase her lips for a second, still wanting more. As soon as his eyes locked with hers, he could see how close was so. Instead of trying to chase her lips any longer, he stayed with his eyes locked on hers.

Their thrusts grew quicker and more urgent. Their hips chased towards the relief they both wanted and needed. Felicity’s stomach was tightening. All of her thoughts, her feelings and actions were revolving around that release. She wanted and needed it so much.

With only a couple more thrusts, they both fell over the edge. Their moans turned into one when Felicity angled her head down and caught Oliver’s lips with hers. Kissing each other, their hips continued to move together lazily, trying to get the last of their pleasure.

Once the last waves of their pleasure had run through their body, Felicity broke the kiss. Her lungs were burning for air. Resting her forehead against Oliver’s, she smiled. She knew that, if she told him how out of breath she’d feel, he’d joke about working on her condition. She’d remind him that the first to have failed their phenomenal sex life had been his cock or little Oliver as Felicity liked to call him just to tease her husband.

“What are you smiling about?” Oliver asked her and nudged her nose with his. “What is so amusing?”

Chuckling slightly, Felicity pulled back and looked at Oliver. “Just us.”

“You thought about your bad condition,” Oliver guessed correctly, “and then you thought about Little Oliver. Of course you blended out the part where your vagina was so exhausted that your doc told you not to have sex anymore, right?”

Felicity grinned. Oliver knew her so very well. It was why her marriage with Oliver meant the world to her. She had never felt as understood as she felt when she was with him. She had grown up feeling misunderstood all of the time. With Oliver, she felt utterly safe, protected and understood though. Everyone who was in a relationship should feel the way she was feeling when she was with Oliver.

“Of course.”

She leaned forward to peck his lips gently. As soon as her lips touched his, Oliver framed her face with his hands and deepened the kiss though. Felicity couldn’t do anything against it. She just melted against his chest, responding to the kiss.

Oliver was the one to break the kiss this time. He looked at her with a soft smile that made Felicity brush her thumb against the dimple there.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered, “it’s time to go home.”

Oliver nodded his head. “Yes, it is.”

They cleaned themselves up before they left City Hall hand in hand, on their way back home to recover from the long hours without each other.

* * *

I'm sorry, guys! I am going through a terrible writer's block. I barely haven't written anything in the last weeks, and I can't get myself to it either. Maybe posting some chapters will help though...

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[cocastyle]

Change - Ch. 1 | T H R E E

Pairing - Bill Denbrough x reader

Word Count - 4,888

A/N - another chapter!! yay! I’ve only just started this series and I already love writing it so much and can’t wait for you all to see what happens next! I hope you all like this update and expect another one up very soon!

in other news, I have decided that I would like to write a Stranger Things rewrite as well! I am currently doing a tally for who the pairing should be so leave me a comment on who you would like the rewrite to be on! your options are Will Byers, Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, or Jonathan Byers! I would love to write for any of the characters but those four are the ones I have ideas for :)

if you would like to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

C H A N G E

Change Series Masterlist

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T H R E E   -   Lois Lane

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Y/N was the first to break the silent staring contest the boys all seemed to be having, quickly stepping by her cousin and hurrying over to the boy who was lying in the water with a bloody shirt. "Are you okay?" Y/N asked softly as she knelt down in front of the boy who just stared up at her with wide eyes, surprised that she was talking to him.

"Not. . .not really," the boy admitted and by the slight crack in his voice, Y/N could tell it took all of his willpower not to cry. She didn't blame him for wanting to. Judging by the amount of blood, it looked like whatever injury he had was painful. Not to mention that the events leading up to him getting hurt might've been painful as well.

Footsteps behind her had Y/N turning to see that Stan, Bill, Richie, and Eddie had come over to join her, their eyes on the hurt boy while Eddie grimaced. Y/N looked back at the boy and gave him a kind smile as her eyes flickered over his face.

His dirty blonde hair was matted to his face, slightly covering his brown eyes which stared back at her almost nervously, like he was afraid of what was going to happen or what the group would do to him. He was leaning back slightly as he were afraid they would take a punch and Y/N couldn't help but frown slightly, a sadness flashing through her eyes as she stared at the boy.

No one spoke as Y/N reached out and gently brushed the boy's hair from out of his eyes. The small gesture was enough to make the boy blush as he looked at the girl shyly. Y/N just gave him a gentle smile as she whispered, "We're going to help you, okay?"

The boy stared at her hesitantly for a moment before nodding his head ever so slightly. Y/N's smile was enough to warm the boy's heart as she gently took his hand and helped him on to his feet, turning to the other boys in the process.

To her surprise, they were all staring at her with wide eyes. Stan's was out of pure pride for having someone as sweet and gentle as his cousin. Richie and Eddie were just in shock, having forgotten just how nice and caring the girl in front of them was. Then there was Bill who was staring at her in awe, the corners of his mouth twitching up slightly as his heart skipped a beat.

Y/N didn't seem to notice their expressions and only gave them the smallest of smiles as she said, "Come on, boys. Let's get him out of here."

The four seemed to snap out of their thoughts at that and quickly rushed forward to help Y/N get the boy over to their bikes. With some help they managed to get the boy onto Bill's bike and Y/N made sure that the boy was secure before she looked to Bill, giving him a small thankful smile before she hurried after her cousin to get on his bike.

Bill stared after Y/N for a moment, his mouth hanging open slightly as he watched her get on Stan's bike. From behind him, a small voice whispered out, "She's really kind."

Bill glanced behind him and at the boy who shared his bike and smiled softly as he looked back at Y/N. "Sh-Sh-She sure is," Bill agreed before him and the others began to bike away from the Barrens and towards town, neither of them noticing Patrick Hockstetter, a member of the Bowers gang, stumble into the small river right after they left.

The ride out of the woods was mostly quiet as the group biked towards town. It was only when they had left the woods that Eddie began to ramble and lucky for Stan and Y/N, they were the closest to the boy and got to hear all of it.

"I think it's great that we're helping the new kid, but we also need to think about our own safety. I mean, he's bleeding all over and you guys know there's an AIDS epidemic happening right now as we speak. I mean my mom's friend in New York City got it juist by touching a dirty pole in the subway and she got AIDS blood into her system through a hangnail," Eddie said as he glanced over at Y/N and Stan, the girl staring back at him intently while she leaned her head against her cousin's back.

"A hangnail?" Y/N questioned, knowing that the best way to handle Eddie's rambling was to go along with it.

Besides, she knew he secretly liked it when someone actually seemed to enjoy when he talked and it was obvious that still applied by the way he smiled ever so slightly before exclaiming, "A hangnail!"

Stan let out a soft sigh and glanced at his friend before looking back ahead as he followed after Bill and Richie, Eddie right beside him.

"And-and they can amputate legs and arms. But. . .but how do you amputate a wai-? How do you amputate a waist?" Eddie asked, his eyes wide as he realized that the boy they found was going to die because they didn't know how to amputate a waist.

"Eddie," Y/N said softly, her voice causing the boy to look over at her while he nervously bit his lip. "It's going to be okay. We're not going to have to amputate his waist and the boy is going to be just fine."

"But how do you-?" Eddie began to ask.

"Just trust me," she said as her eyes flickered over Eddie's face. "You trust me, right?"

For a moment Eddie was brought back to when the two were six. He had just fallen and scraped his knee on some gravel and since they were too far away from his house to get his mother, Y/N had been the one to bandage him up with the things in his fanny pack as she softly hummed to him, her humming being enough to calm the crying boy down while he stared at her with wide eyes.

Being six years old, Eddie had thought his scraped knee was going to be the end of the world. But Y/N had been the one to calm him down. She had even the one to assure him that he was going to be okay and for the first time Eddie had believed her. It wlas that day that their friendship began to form and by the end of that summer, the two were like brother and sister.

Even after five years of not seeing her, Eddie still saw her as such and knew that his trust in her would never waiver.

"I trust you," Eddie agreed, his eyes staring directly at Y/N while Stan looked back at the two with a soft smile. It always had made Stan happy to see his friends get along so well with his cousin.

Y/N gave the boy a small smile before looking ahead as the group turned their bikes down an alley next to the pharmacy they needed to go to.

"You know that there are alleys full of AIDS infected needles, right?" Eddie spoke up, his tone still coming out nervous but not as much now that he had talked to Y/N. "You guys do know that?"

The group came to a stop and Y/N was quick to hop off Stan's bike and head over to Bill, the two helping the boy get off before sitting him down on top of a box. Y/N and Bill both knelt down in front of the boy and silently checked to make sure he was alright before Y/N whispered, "I'm Y/N by the way. This is Bill."

Bill nodded at the boy in greeting while the boy looked up at them for a minute before nodding. "Yeah, I-I know Bill. We. . .we had a class together," the boy said, not noticing the way a flicker of confusion flashed through Bill's eyes. "We never talked though, so I doubt you know me. I. . .I'm Ben."

Y/N smiled softly at the boy as she reached out to squeeze his hand. "Well, Ben, you're going to be just fine, okay? We're going to go get you some things to clean you up and then you'll be good as new in no time," she said, the optimism in her voice being enough to make Ben calm down slightly.

"Thank you," Ben whispered making Y/N smile widely.

"It's no problem," she assured him as she stood up, Bill following suit.

Bill looked at his friends as he began to back up. "Alright, s-s-so, Richie, wait here. Come on," he said before him and Y/N took off towards the pharmacy, Stan and Eddie right behind them.

Richie frowned as his friends left before looking down at Ben who was holding onto his stomach in pain, "Glad I got to meet you before you died." Ben glanced up at Richie before the two looked away, an awkward silence falling upon them.

At that time, the others managed to reach the pharmacy door and were quick to head in before Eddie led them straight to the aisle that held all sorts of bandages, gauze, ointments and more than necessary supplies than they would need.

Eddie on the other hand seemed to think they needed everything he could possibly grab and went down the aisle before grabbing so much that he could barely hold it all.

Bill and Y/N watched the boy silently while Stan counted the money that they had. "Can we afford all that?" Bill finally asked, knowing that all of the things Eddie was grabbing had to cost a lot.

Stan frowned before showing the three the little money that they had and from what Y/N could see, it really wasn't that much. A couple of dollars perhaps?

"It's all we got," Stan muttered while Eddie turned to look at the money with wide eyes.

"You kidding me?" Eddie asked, his voice soft as another wave of nervousness washed over him. The others all sighed while Stan stuffed the money into his pocket, each of them trying to think of what to do next.

"Wait, you have an account here don't you?" Bill asked, his eyes landing on Eddie while the Uris cousins looked to the young boy.

"If my mom finds out I bought all this stuff for myself, I'll spend the whole rest of the week in the emergency room getting x-rayed," Eddie told them, each of them letting out a sigh as they realized they wouldn't be able to use the boy's account.

It was at that moment that someone else entered the aisle and the four were quick to look at the newcomer, some of the items in Eddie's hands falling onto the ground in the process.

There at the end of the aisle stood a girl with long red hair tied back in a ponytail. Her startling blue eyes stared at the four and Y/N couldn't help but think the girl was extremely pretty. Her freckled face and flawless features being something Y/N would die to have herself.

The girl seemed to be startled as she stared at the four, quickly hiding something behind her back and by the looks of it, Y/N knew exactly what it was. Y/N let her eyes flicker to Bill, Stan, and Eddie and by the startled looks that seemed to be on their faces as well, the four obviously knew each other.

Y/N shook her head slightly at the four before looking at the girl and asking softly, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," the girl insisted a little harshly before she winced at her own words. "What's wrong with you?"

Stan frowned, not liking the tone the girl used with his cousin before saying, "None of your business."

"Stanley," Y/N scolded as she looked back at her cousin, but all Stan did was give her a confused and annoyed look in response.

"There's a kid outside, looks like someone killed him," Eddie suddenly said, Stan and Y/N both giving the boy an incredulous look.

Knowing that there was no way around it, Bill spoke up and said, "We need some s-s-s-supplies, but we don't have enough money."

The girl's eyes flickered over the four before she gave them a small nod. "Okay then. You guys be ready to run when I tell you," the girl told them before she began to walk down the aisle.

The four blinked in surprise before Eddie scrunched up his nose and asked, "Wait, what?"

The girl ignored him and only looked over the group before stopping on Y/N. "Do you mind helping me out?" the girl asked.

"Uh. . .sure?" Y/N said, still unsure what was happening but stepping forward to follow the girl towards the counter.

"Woah. Woah. Woah. Wait," Stan began, but Y/N was quick to stop him from stepping forward.

"It's okay, Stanley. I'll be right out there in a minute, okay?" Y/N assured him.

Stan was silent as he stared at the girl before finally allowing his gaze to fall on his cousin. He nodded a little reluctantly and Y/N gave him a small smile before beginning to follow the girl down the aisle while the boys watched after them.

"I'm Beverly Marsh by the way," the red head introduced herself as she glanced at Y/N.

"Y/N," she said as she reached out and shook the girl's hand. "Y/N Uris."

"Uris?" Beverly questioned before it seemed to click. "Oh. So you and Stan are related?"

"Yes. We're cousins actually. I'm just visiting for the summer," Y/N explained.

"That makes sense why I've never seen you at school before," Beverly hummed before the two finally began to approach the counter.

"So what's the plan?" Y/N asked, curious as to what the girl had in store for them.

Beverly just sent the girl a small smile and winked before saying, "Just follow my lead." Y/N didn't have time to question her before Beverly had gently grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her up to the counter.

Y/N didn't quite understand what was going on and glanced back at her cousin and new friends. They gave her a confused look and she merely shrugged, not knowing what was going on.

"I like your glasses, Mr. Keene," Beverly suddenly said causing Y/N to snap her attention back to what was going on. Her eyes flickered over to the pharmacist with the glasses and gave Beverly a side glance. "You look just like Clark Kent."

The man let out a small laugh and adjusted his glasses as he looked down shyly. "Oh, I don't know about that," Mr. Keene said.

"Can I try them?" Beverly questioned as she tried to put as much curiosity into her tone as she could. It was then that everything seemed to click in place for Y/N and she silently chuckled to herself as she realized what was going on.

Mr. K was silent for a moment but nodded, "Mmm. Sure." He then took his glasses off before handing them over to Beverly who chuckled and put them on.

Beverly glanced over at Y/N and sent her a smile. "What do you think?" she asked.

"You look just like Lois Lane! Doesn't she look like Lois Lane, Mr. Keene?" Y/N questioned as she played along and pointed to the girl with a smile.

Mr. Keene smiled softly before saying, "Well, how about that? She does look like Lois Lane."

"Really?" Beverly asked with a small childish laugh that made Y/N want to chuckle at how fake it actually was. Mr. Keene didn't seem to notice as he just nodded and hummed in response.

Beverly took the glasses off, making sure to keep the smile on her face. "Well, here you go," she said as she went to hand them back, but she 'accidentally' hit several packs of Carolina menthol off the counter and onto the floor. "Shoot. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Mr. Keene assured them as he put his glasses back on and bent down to pick the containers up off the ground.

Once he was out of view, Beverly and Y/N looked over their shoulders and made eye contact with the boys. Beverly gave them a small nod and Eddie, Bill, and Stan were quick to rush down the aisle.

Eddie ended up bumping into a display, but Bill was quick to grab the boy before they followed Stan out the front door. Y/N chuckled softly to herself and turned back around as Beverly stuffed a pack of cigarettes in her pocket.

The two girls glanced at each other before smiling softly and giving each other a fist bump. Y/N could already tell this was going to be a beautiful start to a new friendship.

- - -

"Just suck the wound," Richie muttered impatiently as he looked to Eddie who was busy trying to fix Ben up. Ben glanced up at Richie before looking back down at Eddie who frowned as he pressed some gauze against Ben's stomach.

"I need to focus right now," Eddie said, biting his tongue in an attempt to stop himself from yelling at Richie who was currently annoying him. Eddie knew Richie was merely bored, but that didn't stop his actions from being any less annoying.

"You need to focus?" Richie asked, his nose scrunching up as if he couldn't believe what the boy was saying.

Eddie ignored the questioning tone in his friend's voice and said, "Yeah, can you go get me something? Jesus."

"Oh, what do you need?" Richie asked and for a second Eddie swore the boy sounded as if he actually wanted to help.

"Go get my bifocals, they're in my second fanny pack," Eddie instructed,

"Why do you have two fanny packs?" Stan asked confused, while him and Richie shared a look.

"I need to focus right now and it's a long story," Eddie muttered as he pressed the gauze against Ben's stomach a little harder, Ben wincing in response.

"I don't want to hear it," Richie assured him earning a glare from his friend.

Bill shook his head at his friends in slight amusement before biting his lip nervously as he realized Y/N had yet to return. He knew she was fine, but that couldn't stop him from walking out of the alley to look in the direction of the pharmacy, hoping to see her and know that she was okay.

It was at that exact moment that the door to the pharmacy opened up and it was almost like everything went in slow motion for Bill, his eyes locking on Y/N and his mouth dropping open slightly as he watched her walk out.

He swore he had never seen someone as beautiful as Y/N Uris in his life. Even all the celebrity crushes he had would never match up to the young girl in his eyes and he knew he would never forget a face like hers for as long as he lived.

Her h/c hair seemed to shine in the sunlight as she walked out, her braid still being perfectly in tact with a few stray hairs poking out here and there that weren't really noticeable. Her skin was glowing, almost making her even brighter in Bill's eyes and making it hard for him to focus on anything else.

Then there was that smile of hers, the one that seemed to reach her eyes and make them crinkle on the sides. That kind of smile that only belonged to Y/N Uris and that made Bill's heart skip a beat. It was that special smile of hers that Bill knew shamed the sun.

He barely even registered Beverly walking out beside her, the two girls beginning to make their way down the sidewalk before Y/N turned her head and caught sight of Bill. The sight of her eyes was enough to leave him breathless. It was like her eyes held their own vocabulary that Bill desperately wanted to learn and each time he saw them he was met with a new word he had never heard of.

He hadn't felt this way since he last saw Y/N five years prior and that was when Bill knew that he was completely done for. For his feelings for her had never gone away, only been tucked away until the day when she came back and they could flourish once again.

It was a crush he assured himself. Nothing but a crush.

Y/N's smile being directed towards him was the only thing that seemed to snap him out of his thoughts, the two girls stopping in front of the boy while Bill desperately blinked in an attempt to snap himself out of it.

The only thing Bill could think to do was turn his attention to Beverly, the red head already giving him a calculating look as her eyes flickered between Bill and Y/N. Bill didn't give her time to think much longer before he began to reach in his pocket, pulling out a lonely dollar bill.

"Uhmm, th-th-thanks," Bill muttered as he held the dollar out.

Beverly seemed to realize what he was doing, but didn't question it as she held up her pack of cigarettes and smiled. "Even Steven," she assured him with a wink.

"Oh god, he's bleeding," Stan's panicking voice rang out from the alley, causing the three to glance that way.

Beverly's eyes widened slightly before a look of confusion flashed across her face. "Ben from Soc?" she whispered before beginning to make her way down the alley and towards Ben who was surrounded by Eddie, Richie, and Stan.

That left Y/N and Bill standing there on the sidewalk. Y/N turned to look at Bill at the same time as the boy and she smiled softly while Bill looked to the ground bashfully.

"Th-Th-That was really cool. . ." Bill whispered. "What you d-d-did back there."

Y/N tilted her head slightly as she looked at the boy and shrugged. "It was all Beverly's idea. I was just kind of there. I didn't do much," Y/N told him.

"I wasn't t-t-talking about that," Bill said, his eyes flickering up to look at the girl. "I was talking about the b-b-barrens and how you helped Ben. That was r-r-really cool."

Y/N blinked in surprise, her cheeks growing a tinge pink at the fact that Bill was telling her that her helping Ben was 'cool.' Really cool, nonetheless.

"Oh, I would've done the same for anyone," Y/N shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

"I-I-I know," Bill smiled at the girl, his gaze on her soft and gentle enough to make her smile widen slightly.

"Thanks," she whispered and Bill smiled shyly at the girl and bowed his head before nodding towards the others.

"We should-" he began, but Y/N quickly took the hint and nodded her head before the two began to walk down the alley together side by side, only coming to a stop behind Beverly who was watching the boys in silence.

"Are you okay?" Beverly finally spoke up, her worried eyes locked on Ben. "That looks like it hurts."

Ben glanced over at the girl and his eyes widened before he quickly dropped his shirt and sat up, Eddie backing up slightly once he couldn't see the wound anymore. "No, I'm good. I just fell," Ben assured the red head, wanting to seem strong and brave for her.

"Yeah, right into Henry Bowers," Richie muttered, his eyes narrowing at Beverly almost accusingly.

"Shut it, R-R-Richie!" Bill hissed at his friend causing both Beverly and Y/N to look at the boy confused. Y/N didn't quite understand what the big deal was. Why did they not want to tell Beverly what had happened?

"Why? It's the truth," Richie persisted while Ben looked down at the ground almost sadly.

Beverly's gaze fell on the hurt boy once again before she asked in a teasing way, "You sure they got 'the right stuff' to fix you up?" Ben looked up at Beverly and the two shared a small smile that made Y/N look between them suspiciously, wondering what the two were talking about.

"You know w-w-w-w-we'll take care of him," Bill interrupted, the red head looking away from Ben and over at Bill. "Thanks again, Beverly."

Beverly nodded slightly, "Sure, maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, we were maybe thinking about going to the q-q-q-quarry tomorrow, if you wanna. . ." Bill muttered, his eyes flickering over his friends who were all looking at him surprised. "Come?"

Y/N locked eyes with Richie and mouthed, "Since when were we going to the quarry?" Richie merely shrugged in response.

Y/N glanced back over at Bill, a small frown appearing on her face as she realized he had made it up on the spot so that Beverly could hang out with them more. It's not that she had anything against Beverly because she didn't, but something about knowing Bill had been the one to suggest her hanging out with them more made Y/N feel weird.

"Good to know," Beverly said as she nodded. "Thanks." She then turned and began to walk away, but not before waving goodbye to the boys and Y/N.

"Bye, Beverly," Y/N called out, waving at the girl and giving her a small smile despite what had just happened.

"Bye, Y/N. It was nice meeting you," Beverly aid before she smiled at the girl and disappeared around the corner.

Y/N stared at the alley for a moment longer before turning around, her eyes instantly locking with Bill who was staring at her. She was quick to look away, the action making Bill's eyebrows furrow in confusion and his happy expression dropped slightly.

"Nice going," Stan muttered causing them to all look at the boy who was glaring at Richie, "bringing up Bowers in front of her."

"Yeah, did you hear what she did?" Eddie asked making Y/N furrow her eyebrows in confusion as she walked over to her cousin. She stopped by Stan's side and the boy glanced at her, sighing in relief slightly at the sight of her.

"What'd she do?" Ben and Y/N both asked, their eyes locking for a moment before they looked to the others for an explanation.

"More like who'd she do?" Richie corrected them. "From what I hear, the list is longer than my wang."

Stan rolled his eyes before muttering, "That's not saying much."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprised before she quickly put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud. Richie glared at Stan and Y/N was quick to hide her face in her cousin's arm as she chuckled softly, not noticing Stan's smile as he realized he had just made his cousin laugh.

"They're j-j-just rumors," Bill assured the group while Richie rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, Bill had her back in third grade," Richie explained, this making both Ben and Y/N look to the boy. "They kissed in the school play. The reviews said that you can't fake that kind of passion!"

Y/N's lips twitched downward ever so slightly, but she was quick to hide it, already used to having to hide how she really feels due to everything going on with at home.

Richie clapped his hands together to gain everyone's attention once again. "Now, pip pip and tally-ho, my good fellows, I do believe this chap requires our utmost attention. Now get in there Dr. K! Come on, fix him up!" Richie exclaimed in a Bristish accent as he gently shoved the boy towards Ben.

Eddie frowned and bent down in front of Ben as he glared at Richie. "Why don't you shut the fuck up, Einstein, because I know what I'm doing and I don't want you doing the British guy routine right now," Eddie muttered.

Richie just ignored him and continued on with his British accent, "Suck the wound. Get in there."

The usual banter between the two was enough to make Y/N smile softly, but no one except for Bill seemed to realize that it didn't quite reach her eyes like normal. Y/N ignored Bill's questioning gaze and instead leaned against her cousin as they watched Eddie fix Ben up.

Maybe their first day of summer hadn't been what they had been hoping for, but with her new friends and her cousin by her side, Y/N knew it could only get better from there.

Right?

* * *

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[mattzerella-sticks]

Lucky You, Huh? (Clover Ebi/Qrow Branwen, set at the end of s7)

After all that happened, it's time for the dust to settle. Choices were made. Now, the consequences for certain actions need to be carried out.

Even though he fought alongside her to save Mantle, Robyn Hill couldn't help save Clover from the whims of the Council. Without a job or home, Clover needs to find a way to carry on.

If anyone understands what that feels like, it's Qrow. Never being one who can communicate his feelings well, would he be the best to comfort the other man. When he's the only one who can, what does that mean for Clover?

            Qrow watches him from afar. Leaning against the wall of Atlas Academy, a small bag sat between his legs while he stared into his scroll.

            He looked different, out of uniform. Dark jacket with sleeves hiding golden skin, a green shirt with a white four-leaf logo underneath. Kingfisher nestled cozy on the studded belt. And his face… lined in ways Qrow never saw before. Sadness as bold an accessory like the horseshoe pinned to his lapel.

            “Where do you think he’ll go?”

            Startled, Qrow barely showed it. He glances to his left where Ruby and Yang stand together. Yang bundled tight with her arms crossed over chest while his younger niece rocks on her heels.

            Ruby blinks up at him, asking again, “Uncle Qrow, where do you think Clover will go?”

            Qrow sighs, scratching his chin. “…I don’t know.”

            “Where can he go?” Yang says, “Ace-Ops seemed to be his life.”

            “It’s not fair!” Ruby stomps, “After everything he did to help us… and this is the thanks he gets? It’s… it’s – it’s ugh!”

            An understatement. He nods, turning to observe the other man again. Somehow unaware of the little party gathered yards away. Or, he was. Given the tightness in his jaw and how deep his eyebrows furrowed since last he saw. Like if he lost focus from the scroll Clover wouldn’t know what to do.

            Which, he doesn’t.

            “You’re right,” he says, “But what he did made Clover a traitor… and there’s no place for people like that in Atlas.”

            People who disobey direct orders to, instead, fight for the rights of the those who would’ve died if Ironwood’s plan went unchecked. Who helped him and Robyn sneak in under the cover of a ruse so they could surprise his former teammates and rescue the others. Who took the harsh lashing from Ironwood’s crazed rants without flinching. Who, even after being praised by the Council for his courage and conviction, was forced from his position because of his liability status.

            “I’m really sorry about this,” Robyn said, catching him after the Council finished their meeting. “I tried my hardest but… with how Ironwood went rogue, and everything that happened because of Salem, they… we thought our military needed a rebranding. So the people can trust us again. Because Ace-Ops were so closely tied to the General…”

            “I… I understand, really,” Clover nodded, “And I’m not mad at you, Robyn. But… there’s nothing I can do? They won’t let me teach, either?”

            She sighed, squeezing his shoulder. Whatever Robyn told him Qrow couldn’t hear from his position. Hidden behind a turn, waiting for when the meeting ended. To see Clover. Except when most of the members left with strident purpose, his reason for being there walked through the doors with a slump to his spine. Distressed, Qrow’s heart beat in double time. He readied to call his name when Robyn beat him to it.

            When they hugged, Qrow sped away. Unwilling to be third party to an intimate moment. There were more important things he needed to focus on, that he put off because of his worry for Clover.

            Now that Qrow had nothing left to do in Atlas, his feelings resurfaced.

            “He wasn’t the traitor,” Yang huffs, “General Ironwood was. He nearly killed all of Mantle out of fear.”

            “That doesn’t make James a traitor, Yang,” he says, defending his old friend. Hard to do given how far he fell from grace, but it’s second nature. The image of a younger James always came to mind whenever he thought of the man. Before responsibility and war weighed on their shoulders. They walked unburdened while the world placed stone after stone on their backs. Qrow struggled from time to time, but he never faltered. Sometimes relying on an extra hand to help steady himself. James moved with tireless grace until, suddenly, he buckled and broke, lying flat on the floor. Unwilling to accept the offered hand.

            “What is he, then?”

            “…Stupid. Incredibly, unbelievably… stupid.”

            She scoffs. “You have to be stupid to think that plan of his was going to work. Like a little distance would matter to Salem…”

            Warmth leaks through his arm through a gentle touch. Ruby, at his side, says, “You should go talk to him.”

            Qrow won’t face her. “He’s clearly busy.”

            “He’s clearly hurting,” she says, “And you’re his friend. Clover did all of this… for us.”

            “She’s right Uncle Qrow,” Yang adds, “it’s… the least you can do.”

            It’s hard to decide which he’s angrier at, his nieces ganging up on him or that they’re right. Qrow chooses neither and both. “Fine,” he growls, “I’ll do it…” He stalks away, adopting a casual gait the closer he moves towards Clover. Stumbling only when seafoam eyes break from the screen and lock onto his.

            He stops, cheeks burning and fingers twisting the lining of his pockets. “So,” Qrow starts, tongue awkward behind his teeth, “how’re you holding up?”

            Clover attempts a smile but can’t show more than a broad stroke of a line. Completely level. “I’m… barely. Barely.”

            Qrow nods, mirroring his stance. Shoulders brushing up against each other slightly. “It’s rough, isn’t it?”

            “No,” Clover says, pocketing his scroll in a way that makes more of their bodies touch. “Actually, I couldn’t believe how easy it was. Cleaning up my quarters took… less than an hour. Everything I own is in this… this bag.” He kicks it, knocking it over. “And besides Winter and Robin… there wasn’t anyone I needed to say goodbye to. I tried thinking of people, but…” His eyes flit to him for a brief second. “But that was all.”

            “Really?” Qrow asks, “No one else?”

            “Ace-Ops wasn’t about making friends,” Clover shrugs, “Any free time meant optimizing our skills, abilities, and strategies to better protect the city of Atlas and of – of Mantle. Maybe I could have checked on my teammates but I… don’t think they’d want to see me.”

            Qrow agrees, silently. Remembers how each member of Ace-Ops reacted in shock when Kingfisher’s hook caught Elm’s Timber on an upswing. Pulled it from her hands so she couldn’t slam it on a newly freed Weiss.

            “Stand down,” he said, “As your leader, I’m ordering you to –“

            “You’re siding with them Clover?” Harriet asked, fury crackling to life in her gaze. “Is that it? Them over Ironwood? Over us?” He didn’t answer her. “Well,” she continued, “I guess that doesn’t make you our leader anymore. Just another criminal.”

            That hurt. No matter how many times they gave their speech, Qrow never bought it. Working alongside people changes you. An exposure effect. Might not be friends but definitely more than strangers. He knows from first-hand experience. So, when Harriet said what she did, Clover’s heartbroken expression made sense.

            “If it’s all so easy,” Qrow says, drawing them both from their thoughts, “why are you still here?”

            Clover chuckled, wiping at his cheek. No fights or danger to force him to hide the broken edges of his spirit. “Because this is the hard part.”

            Qrow understands. Even though it wasn’t much of one, Atlas was Clover’s home. And being forced out – after everything he did for it – was the worst form of gratitude. Reminds him of a younger self staring across from his sister, her blade between them. “Branwen might be your last name,” she said, “but we’re no longer your family. Leave.” Under the scrutiny of his entire village, Qrow fled. Drowned his abandonment with ten bottles of the cheapest liquor he could afford.

            A thought of Clover, drunk, passed out at the bar crosses his imagination and curdles his stomach.

            “I’m sorry,” Qrow says, rushed, “I’m sorry this happened to you. You should… they shouldn’t have taken your job from you.”

            “They had to. For peace to remain in the kingdom, Ace-Ops couldn’t exist anymore. The people’s trust in us was broken.”

            “But to toss you aside like that…” Qrow scowls, borrowing his niece’s words. “It wasn’t fair.”

            Clover shifts so their elbows knock together. “All choices have consequences.”

            “You didn’t have much of a choice though,” he argues, “Do the wrong thing but obey orders, wind up in prison. Do the right thing but think for yourself, end up without a job. It… it makes no sense!”

            “I know. Still… I made it. You were there.”

            Tyrian watched with glee as they stood in the cramped quarters of the transport. Giddy, unable to speak from the excitement over such strange twists. Robyn waited with tensed muscles, hands twitching in case her crossbow were needed. Qrow didn’t think of his weapon. Hoped they could avoid drawing them forth.

            He took one step forward. “Clover,” Qrow said, “Clover… what are you going to do?”

            Conflict played obviously on the other man’s face. Wrapping his head around Ruby’s message, trying to make a decision. He glanced at where his weapon rested, binding their prisoner, then to Robyn and finally Qrow. “I’m going to do what’s right.”

            “I’ve heard that before,” Robyn huffed, reflexively unfurling her crossbow’s wings, “it’s never been any good. So, Clover, what is right?”

            Right has no set definition. Ask anyone to do so and the answer is subjective. Always changing like the hands of a ticking clock.

            Qrow believes he knows what right is, especially in that situation. Trusted Clover felt the same too, even though the shadowed voices in his head whispered doubt. More hurtful than ever because they’ve been left unchecked. Booze no longer impeding their mission to drive him crazy.

            Clover said, “Ironwood’s going too far. He needs to be stopped.”

            His chest tightened in a frightful mess. Relieved to hear him agree but also doubtful he actually said what Qrow wanted.

            Robyn felt similarly. “Funny how this is the line you’re not willing to cross.”

            “You don’t believe me?”

            “Call it suspicious caution,” she said, holding her hand to him, “C’mon… you know what to do.”

            Qrow raised a brow at the gesture, unsure of what to do. Clover studied the hand intensely, frozen like a statue. Seconds ticked by deliriously, until he firmly grasped her in a stiff handshake. Suddenly a white glow shone over their joined hands, shifting like clear waves of a lake.

            “Everything I’ve done is because, at the end of the day, I thought it was best for my kingdom,” Clover told them, facing Robin with steely determination. “We make the difficult choices so that people can live safer lives. Sometimes the lines blur, because things that can help in the long run don’t look like it immediately. But we do it. What Ironwood plans though… abandoning innocent civilians – members of the kingdom he swore to protect – goes against everything I stand for. There’s no way the ends can justify his means.”

            Clover moved from Robyn, looking at Qrow. “I’m loyal to the people who need protection, those above and below. I want to fight alongside you.”

            Overwhelmed, Qrow turned around. Listened while Robyn cast off any doubt clinging to Clover. Nodding when appropriate as they went over their plans in the brief window of opportunity until the transport landed at Atlas. Only speaking to wish Clover luck while he tied the bolos around his wrists.

            He smirked, squeezing Qrow’s hands between his own. “You know me, I always have it.”

            The same thundering emotions shake through him now, tremors echoing across his body. Causes him to chuckle, strange given the current atmosphere. So thick and nauseating, Qrow tries to dispel it with a quick joke. “Funny,’ he says, “how with your semblance everything usually… usually ends up okay for you. And yet, here you are… that doesn’t seem a lot like good luck. It’s bad luck. And I know what that sounds like because of my… my semblance…” Qrow trails off, sneaking a peek at Clover when it feels like his emotions are better under control.

            Seeing how his expression darkened further only sent his heart into a tailspin. “But it’s you,” Qrow continues, “maybe this is a blessing in disguise and-and your semblance will find you something even better. There’s… no reason to regret what you did –“

            “Qrow,” Clover stops him, “I don’t regret it. I’d never do that.”

            “Huh?”

            “Even knowing what happens to me, it doesn’t change things. If the Gods of Light & Darkness appeared and told me that by choosing Ironwood’s side meant I could continue serving like I did before, be the leader of the Ace Operatives I… I would choose you. I’d choose you any day.”

            Once, when fighting off a Horse Grimm, it bucked Qrow into a stack of barrels that shattered on impact. Tai and Raven kept fighting, ultimately defeating the monster and stopping its rampage. Summer rushed over to him. Shook him until he woke in a daze. Qrow couldn’t hear her over the annoying ringing clogging his ears.

            It’s almost like that now. Except Qrow can hear Clover over the tolls.

            “The title never mattered to me, much,” he continues “promotions only came because I was so good at what I do… because it’s all I want to do. Helping. I… I want to help. And how the world is, the best way I can help is by fighting. Except I can’t do that here… and I can’t do it alone. I don’t want to be alone. I’m… tired of being alone. Of shutting off my emotions for the job. I shouldn’t have to. Because when we do, we end up being no better than the monsters we’re facing! And I…” Clover’s chin hits his chest. “I spent so long shoving my feelings down that I’ve run out of space. So I’m here, unable to move, because I’m absolutely terrified of what’s going to happen next. Unsure if I can make it in the real world anymore.”

            Then, Clover’s lip trembles. His teeth bite down hard, but Qrow catches the action. Blames it for what he does next. “Come with us.”

            Startled, he whips around to face Qrow. Gaze wet and shiny, eyes wide. “What?”

            “You should… come with us,” Qrow says, cheeks burning hotter with each word. “We need to keep moving, find the last maiden. Save the last relic. Along the way we get into some… dangerous adventures. Save people from terrifying Grimm. Our team would probably benefit from having a seasoned professional with us… with your semblance, and… I – uh, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have another adult around. One man can only deal with teenagers for so long…”

            “Qrow,” Clover sighs, fiddling with Kingfisher, “I… appreciate the offer. But if this pity – “

            “It’s not!” he says. “It’s not… I…” A trove of secrets sits buried in his mind, and he breaks his promise of never touching them. Digs and dusts off the chest they’re placed in, choosing his words carefully. To not give too much away. “I always thought I had to fight alone, because of who I am. What my semblance was. Bad luck didn’t just trip up my enemies, it also hurt my allies. In battle… and off it. My team fell apart and I knew it was my fault. Raven left because I couldn’t convince her to stay. Summer died because I couldn’t protect her. If it was only me, then the bad luck wouldn’t spread and hurt anyone else. Anyone who didn’t deserve it – “

            “Qrow – “

            “But then I met you and-and you changed me!” he huffs, “Day after day, partnered with you, I… I looked forward to missions again. I was having fun. I started taking pride in my victories and recognizing my accomplishments. With you my powers didn’t feel like a burden. Like they were bad, how I always thought they were. How I thought I was. They’re a part of me and that’s okay. Having bad luck doesn’t mean I’m a bad person. I believe that now… thanks to you.”

            His senses slowly return to him. Qrow hears his ragged panting and feels the sweat trailing from his temple. Tastes the salt from where they snuck in from the corner of his lips. Sees Clover completely flipped around, grinning madly. Like somehow Qrow strung together enough rope to catch the plummeting hunter before he slammed into the ground.

            “Well?” he asks, unease crawling underneath his skin, “are you in?”

            Clover rubs his neck, chuckling. “With a sell like that… how could I not?”

            “Good… Good.”

            “Y’know,” he slides closer to Qrow. Bodies practically plastered to each other. “You were right. I guess my semblance led me to exactly where I needed to be.”

            “Yeah?” Qrow says, staring straight ahead. Determined not to melt under the intoxicating pressure. “Lucky you, then.” Mustering all the strength he has, Qrow pushes off the wall. He stomps forward, “We’ll be leaving in the hour, so don’t be late or we’ll get on without you.”

            “I doubt you’d let them!”

            Qrow doesn’t answer, because than Clover would know he’s right. Instead he avoids his nieces, standing where he last left them, and hurries to where he can find the closest substitute for alcohol and forget the insane amount of vulnerability he displayed moments ago.

            “His good luck,” he scoffs under breath, “Or was it more of my bad luck…”

            Ruby looks to Yang, smile wider than Crescent Rose. “Do we have another Uncle?”

            Yang shakes her head, gently mussing up the brunette locks of her sister. “Not quite… but I’m sure we will one day. Soon by the looks of it.”

[katianegreyson]

Birthday Bash!

[Warning: Contains mild gore and violence. Read at your own risk.]

She had been back in the city for over a week, yet remained homebound. She had watched the fervor of activity from her apartment window. People flowing through the pathways below, growing bolder as the sunset. Nightlife in the Mage Quarter was always questionable. Drunken behaviors that often resulted in walks of shame out of the alleyways. Fights. Loud tirades. Those manicured lawns housed quite the show, one she wasn't always so hesitant to join in some small part.

However, melancholia had taken root, as it often did after her trips to the mountains. Too many memories, not to mention, the painful reminder of someone's absence. It generally took a week or so before the urge to stop staring at the empty pages of a journey book or out a window took hold. A small span of hope and optimism before reality sunk in once more. Not even time spent in her aerial silks sped up the process or eased her state of mind.

She put off rejoining civilization for as long as possible. In the end, it was the barren state of her pantry that drove her to dastardly things like putting on pants and running a brush through her hair. Sadly, society demanded she not be bare-assed and disheveled looking. Well, most of society. She knew a few who wouldn't complain.

It was early morning when she finally left her apartment, the predawn hour promising her the best choices at the city market. What was the saying? The early bird gets the worm.

Well, this bird wanted steak and eggs.

And bacon. Lots of bacon.

As she descended the steps to the small shop beneath her apartment, it was impossible to miss the brightly wrapped package left for her. The bow was enormous and the counter the box rested on was covered in a gods awful amount of glitter.

Kate loosed a long sigh. Of course her birthday wasn't missed by the proprietor. Such information was required in the rental contract. If it were up to her, she would spend the day like any other. Clearly, her landlord had different ideas. It was as if she could hear her voice, telling Kate in a motherly, (nosey) overbearing tone.

"A birthday should be cherished and celebrated."

Knowing she would be faced with far worse repercussions than a mild annoyance if she ignored the box, Kate huffed out a curse and walked over to the damn thing. Lifting the lid, she found the inside stuffed full of tissue paper in the most obnoxious pinks known to man. Shaking her head, she peeled layer after layer, silently cursing the woman until the last piece of paper was pulled free.

A sharp inhale was Kate's only outward sign of the sight within. No fancy bauble or awful outfit she would have to wear. This was far more personal.

The woman she had been cursing moments before stared back at her with milky dead eyes, a look of pure horror frozen onto her face. Jagged shreds of flesh were spread out at the neck, looking as if it was torn rather than cut cleanly off.

The head rested on a pile of roses, a gruesome message she understood all too well.

Why couldn't things just stay dead these days? 

Floorboards creaked softly behind her, a moment later, quietly letting her know she wasn't alone and the 'guest' was an amateur.

She should have just stayed home.

The sound of a single shot echoed through the empty pathways of The Quarter. While sound would have been drowned out later in the day, the early hour drew unwanted attention to the thunderous boom.

Standing outside the shop that prided itself on pyrotechnics, Maddox sucked in the last drag of his cigarette, flicking the spent butt away. The sound reached him the moment the occasional vice fled his fingertips. Poor timing, or perhaps perfect, and the man dove for it. He was after all smoking near a place that was combustible.

The sudden boom led him to assume the worst. Moments later, when he realized he was still in one piece, more or less, he pushed himself up and began cursing someone's mother. Grass stains clashed with his token grease stains, not that he cared. The noise wasn't a concern either until the sounds of a struggle carried his way.

Lads being lads, likely. At least that is what he thought until he heard the telltale shrieks of a woman.

"Fuck…"

His apathy was overshadowed by his protective nature in an instant. Taking off in a sprint, he followed the muffled sounds of conflict through the manicured walkways. Twists and turns didn't help. Fucking city layout.

When the noise died down, Maddox feared he was too late. Lost in a maze of purple rooftops and decorative fescue. It wasn't until he skidded around a corner that he caught sight of the group of men, fighting to load a bound and gagged redhead into a wagon.

She was giving them hell, small little thing, covered in blood and full of fight. Every time they got close to loading her, she wriggled in the most awkward way possible, causing one of the four brutes to lose their grip. It wasn't until one genius used the butt of his gun to deliver a well-placed blow to her head. It didn't knock her out, but she was stunned enough to go limp.

Maddox wasn't confident that he could take on four men, even if a pair looked wounded. So, he improvised.

Pulling out a stick of dynamite from the bag at his hip, he lit the long braided fuse and shouted to bring attention to himself.

"Oi! How about we put the lass down, eh?" He was walking closer, slowly. "Nice and easy. Then you can leave with what pieces she left you with. Or… I can blow all those pieces up."

"Got to tell ya, I personally would prefer to not spend the tail end of the morn being scraped into a glass jar."

Waving the explosive, Maddox eyed the dwindling fuse, sparks flying as time ticked away. "Tick tock, lads. What's it gonna be?"

There was no nice and easy as they dropped their prisoner, the lawn doing little to cushion the fall. A glaring sneer came from who he assumed was the leader as he pointed with his chin to the lass on the grass.

"You bought her a day, tops. C'mon boys. We can come back later." Clearly they didn't want to deal with an audience. Though as they left, a careful eye was kept in case they had a mind to beat his ass.

Maddox waited until the last few seconds, after the quad of men was long gone, before he pulled the fuse free of the explosive cylinder. Tossing the sparking twine into the grass, tucking the rest of the stick in his back pocket, he went to see to the woman he just saved. From what, he wasn't sure.

With his luck, she might be more hazardous to his health than the men who tried carting her off. Fate was a bitch that way.

"Did you have to bite me when I pulled the gag free?"

Kate didn't answer at first, walking sorely to her bathroom, the bruises she earned making her body ache with every step. Pulling the length of silk free from the mirror, she looked at the sorry state she was in. Busted lip, bruised and bleeding temple. The blood had already started to cake and congeal in her hair, matting it to the side of her head.

Ripping off the sleeve to her bloodied shirt, she uncovered the bullet hole she had been gifted with, if it could really be called that. The shot hadn't buried a bullet in her flesh, but it was too deep to really be called a graze.

She was going to need stitches. First, she was going to need coffee. The blow to the head hurt worse than the wound on her arm, the pain making her nauseous. That alone was a sure sign of the damage it wrought. Sleep was now the enemy.

Grabbing a clean towel, she ripped the absorbent cloth into a few thin strips, shouting out to her guest or... savior.

"There is whiskey in the bedside table. Bring it to me."

Muttering as he fetched the bottle, Maddox brought it to her, standing in the bathroom doorway as he passed it over. He was older than Kate, his salt and pepper hair cropped short. He didn't boast a beard in the traditional sense. Just a thick stubble that shaded his face.

His skin was weathered, Kate's guess was from the sun or some manner of heat. He carried it well, the deep lines adding character to his face rather than make him look old. His eyes, however, were his most striking feature. Shadowed by his darker brow, the pale blue stood out like pools of ice, yet they held none of the expected coldness. Just warmth and compassion.

"Probably not the best time to drink, lass." He commented, catching the look she gave him in the mirror.

"You're not my father or my husband. And while I do appreciate the assistance, it doesn't mean you're suddenly entitled to tell me what to do." Her tone wasn't harsh, just a matter of fact.

Nodding to her words, he shrugged. "Fair enough."

Despite her pointed remark, none of the whiskey made it to her lips once the bottle was opened. Instead, it was poured over her wound. Kate pursed her lips, but the groan of pain and displeasure was hardly muffled.

When she finally spoke through clenched teeth, it was to complain about the waste of good whiskey. Seems she would have rather drank it than use it as a disinfectant before she worked to bandage her arm.

It took her a few clumsy attempts, her guest clearly knowing better than to offer assistance at the moment. Finally, though, she tied the thin strips in place, tying them off and tightening the knots with her teeth.

As she turned, she nodded her thanks and sighed, knowing she was about to ask too much of a stranger.

"Don't suppose you would be kind enough to not mention this to the guard. Chances are, they were bribed to patrol elsewhere. I have a feeling my landlord's death would be easily pinned on me. Would rather not get thrown in The Stocks."

Maddox furrowed his brow. "Dead landlord?"

"Yeah. Her head is gift wrapped downstairs. Literally." She admitted honestly.

Scratching his stubble jaw as he grimaced, he shook his head. "Lass, I don't know what you're into. But smells like deep shit. You sure you don't want to involve the authorities?"

Kate nodded but it was clear the movement brought on a wave of discomfort. Gingerly touching her temple, she felt the abused flesh trickling with fresh blood. Head wounds were a bitch.

"Alright. I'll keep out of it. I take it you've got things handled now?"

It was a polite way to excuse himself and get the hell out of dodge. One she thankfully indulged.

"Mhm." She hummed, waving him towards the door. "Thanks again…"

"Maddox." He finished when she gave him a look to let him know she hadn't caught his name.

"Maddox." She repeated, following up with her own simple introduction. "Kate."

"Stay out of trouble then, Kate." Pointing to her bloodied shirt. "Not gonna die when I leave, right?"

Looking down, she saw more blood soaked into the fabric. Luckily, it wasn't anything to worry about.

"No. Not mine. Compliments of one of my abductors."

There was a grunt of acknowledgment as he waved his farewell, vanishing through the door and closing it quietly behind him.

Alone again.

She waited until she couldn't hear him beyond the door, wanting to make sure he was gone. The moment silence fell, Kate sank down to her knees, letting the pain that she had hidden consume her. She was too stubborn to show weakness in front of another.

Alone, however, she could be hurt and broken all she wanted.

Introducing: Maddox E. Zale

Following the story arc of #Fallen Roses.

[justxaxstory]

OOC Note: Okay so I thought this one up while seeing all these animal transports and trailers on the highway during my road trip. It is weird, even for me, so I really debated whether to write it out. So here goes nothing. You’ve all been warned. 

Trigger Warnings: All the trigger warnings and throw on the one for super weird shit.

Double Warning: This is stupidly long.

Finally: If anyone wants to write this out, there is a set up for three different interactions within, one for each of my bad men.

It had been a strange day to say the least, Bear mused as he lifted his little hucow up to settle on his lap. The week had started simply enough. His heifer had taken been seeded well enough. He cupped her belly, firm and round under his hand, as he mused, but she was not carrying well.  She seemed very poorly to him and finally unable to determine what the trouble could be, he made an appointment with the hucow breeding specialist in the nearby city to their small farming town. It was a three-day drive but they all tended to be a bit overly fond of their cattle. He didn’t remember the time when the hucows were considered to be the same species. That time had come to an end several generations ago. To his knowledge there was no one currently living who remembered this time period. It seemed insane to Bear. 

He looked down at the small heifer on his lap and smiled at her indulgently. The day’s events had distressed her and he disliked that intensely. However she seemed to have calmed and eaten some of her dinner, so that was promising. She needed to sit out with him a bit, getting some fresh air before he put her to bed in her cage in the trailer. They didn’t keep much in the way of stock so it was a small trailer. There was one cage running the width of the trailer at the end furtherest from the entrance. It was big enough for two and she had spent most of her day in there with one of their other hucows. There were three other cages, each padded and long and wide enough for a heifer to turn over and half sit up but no more than that. The other space held their feed and other supplies.

He glanced over at Ubbe and the hucow receiving his attentions at the moment. They had owned her all their lives. Bear had even been present when she was born - the first he had seen. She had been a fat and happy little calf and grown into a pretty hucow. She had already rewarded their affectionate treatment and good training by producing one lovely calf of her own. They all followed the correct breeding protocols, not seeding a female until she had gone into heat at least four times in succession. This did not usually happen until she had reached physical maturity, sometime around twenty years. Sometimes a bit earlier, sometimes later. You couldn’t go by a general guideline. A hucow would become mature when she did so and not a second sooner. You couldn’t force it, although they had all heard stories. Disgusting really. Those breedings never went well and the milk produced by anyone too young was virtually undrinkable, or so it was said. Honestly Bear had no experience with such things. 

Bear had read an old book once that said human women would have monthly cycles. That sounded exhausting and messy to him. Four times a year was more than sufficient. On her fifth cycle she was available for breeding, although some owners would hold off a few more just to make sure or to optimize the season during which the calf would be born. Every now and then a hucow produced a human male, rare and extraordinary really. Most males had to be conceived in a facility. The three of them were rarities - natural males born of their father’s stock. So unusual that they were actually featured in a few medical journals when they were children. A fact that Bear kind of liked and Ubbe found personally horrifying. Ivar didn’t give a shit one way or the other. 

At that thought Bear’s gaze shifted to his other brother. At his feet was a young hucow that was the most extraordinary thing Bear had seen in his life - a wild cow. She was the reason for their strange day. While they had hand-raised the hiefer who was currently getting her long hair brushed out by Ubbe, practically making her purr, Bear had personally bought the hucow on his lap as a boy. It had been his first auction. She had been so very young and he had wanted one of his own to raise up as a 4H project. His father approved and took him to the auction, giving him his carefully saved money to spend. Bear had trained her himself, participating in all the shows, even when it made her cheeks turn a ruby-red. She would still try so hard for him and he had always been proud of her. She had slept in her cage in his room until she had been too big for it any longer and had to be moved out to the barns. 

But that’s how most cattle were obtained these days. You either bred them or you purchased them at auction. A wild cow was nearly fictional. He had never seen one until this morning. They hadn’t been driving long when his own dear hiefer had whimpered, the driving making her suffer. Since they had time to spare, they had pulled off the road and took their cattle for a walk before letting them rest in the sunshine. Ivar had wandered ahead, with no particular hucow to watch when he had spotted her. Picking berries, she was well out of sight of the road. She was wearing actual clothes and not just the soft tunic that most hucows wore on warm days. He messaged his brothers and the hunt was on. Wild cattle were subject to no legal protection. When they caught her, they would have to confirm she was not branded or tagged in some way. If so, they would have to release her immediately. Cattle rustling was strictly illegal and none of them wanted to serve time for a mistake. 

However, the odds of any male allowing a hucow to wear clothes and go somewhere alone was so unlikely that they could only conclude that she was a wild cow. The chase had been long. She was small and crafty but Ivar had been quite determined. Once caught they stripped her easily to confirm there wasn’t a mark on her. She was clean. Unable to resist, each of them had cupped the round curve of her unmarked ass, marvelling at the absence of a brand. To their astonishment she tried to use human words with them. Screaming and yelling and making a fuss. Ivar had to warm her bottom until she grew silent and was placed in a cage in the trailer. Their other females had required assurance they were not also in trouble and meriting punishment. 

After some rest while they drove, the wild cow once again tried to use human language. Technically everyone knew hucows could do it but it was so strictly discouraged that to do so in front of humans merited strict punishment. However, they had all heard their cattle whispering to each other or their young. Males who were a fraction indulgent, as the Ragnarssons could be, would pretend not to hear so long as such foolishness was not directed at them. Educating a hucow in language was strictly forbidden after all so they all pretended they weren’t teaching each other how to speak. Only in rare cases were they allowed to speak to a human, such as to convey illness or injury or warn of some trouble. So when the wild cow tried it again, they had been amazed. They had found a place to pull off and this time the discipline didn’t end until the wild cow was not just quiet but sobbing. If so much as a fingertip touched her bottom or thighs now, the female would cry out. But it did seem to do the trick. She had settled at last. She had her back to the rest of the group, her head pillowed on one of Ivar’s feet as his other foot was tucked behind her knees. Both a protection and a sort of claiming. She wore nothing because Ivar hadn’t felt she merited a privilege yet. As soon as they reached the City, they would brand her and update their legal inventory to reflect the acquisition of the wild cow. 

He looked down at the small hiefer on his lap and brushed back a strand of hair from her cheek. “We’ll see the vet tomorrow little one.” He assured quietly, “We’ll make sure you and your calf are all right. I promise.” He was too soft by half but he had owned her since he was 12 years old and he wasn’t about to lose her now. Not if he could help it.

[inyournightmares97]

If You’re Handsome...

In which you learn that maybe there’s more to Bambam than just expensive suits and a life of luxury.  

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warnings: None. Just a really rich, designer label-owning Bambam. AU!

(Read the Jinyoung version of this here)

Every once in a blue moon, a woman comes across a Bambam in her life.

Bambams are most commonly found in kdramas in the form of rich and spoiled chaebol heirs, with inflated egos and a tendency to squander their inheritance away, but they do exist in real life. You will rarely come into contact with a Bambam in the course of your daily life unless you see his face on a magazine or on the gossip column of the newspaper. Bambams live in a different world from ordinary mortal folk like us. That’s what makes it so rare to come across them.

A Bambam lives for luxury. He has money and he’s not afraid to spend it on the finer things in life; designer clothing, gorgeous real estate, overpriced wine and extravagant jewelry. Bambams never settle for anything less than the best. It’s not unusual to see a Bambam throwing a fit at a restaurant because the service wasn’t up to their expectations or storming out of a clothing store because they don’t have the latest designs stocked.

Bambams are childish, petty and spoiled. They like to think that they can buy anything with money.

But you’re not an object. You don’t have a price tag.

You can’t be bought.

Perhaps that’s why a Bambam will never be able to win with a woman like you.

--

You met the Bambam of Bambams on a warm summer morning. Your company specialized in marketing and business consultancy so you were invited to make a presentation on a marketing strategy for a new clothing line under Bambam’s design label. It had taken you days to devise a complicate but fool-proof marketing strategy with your team. You went to their office early in order to make your presentation in the hope of clinching a deal. You had been informed that some of the higher-ups at the design label would be attending your presentation but you hadn’t expected Bambam, the founder of the label himself to turn up.

Bambam entered the conference room thirty minutes into your presentation. A Bambam is never on time, because his time is worth more than yours is. They always make that very clear to you in the beginning.

“Sorry, I had some other appointments to deal with,” Bambam drawled lazily as he barged in on your presentation. You weren’t sure why you were startled by his sudden appearance but he was really tall and handsome. Part of you had believed that most Bambams’ good looks were the result of skilled photoshop and professional makeup but you were wrong. This Bambam’s pouty lips and dark, seductive gaze were all his own. 

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Bambam.”

He held out his hand for you to shake and you had to stop the presentation in order to introduce yourself to him in return. Bambam’s grasp was firm and a small smirk appeared on his face as he looked you up and down. You tried to stay calm. 

Showing weakness in front of a Bambam is the biggest mistake you can make. They can smell fear like a hound.

“I was just making a presentation on a new marketing strategy for your upcoming clothing line,” you explained to him. “Right now, I’m talk about the optimal distribution lines we devised which could cut your overall distribution costs in almost half-“

Bambam took a seat beside one of the other officials of his company and coolly placed one leg over the other. He was wearing an expensive suit, possibly one of his own design. You were startled by how well his dark suit complimented his silver hair.

“Interesting,” Bambam commented. “Would you mind summarizing everything you’ve presented until now in one or two lines so that I’m not lost?”

In one or two lines? You balked for a moment. You had just gone through almost twenty slides about expanding customer base and increasing revenues and he wanted you to summarize all of that in a few lines? Bambam wore a pleased smirk on his face and you felt a burst of irritation. Folding your arms across your chest, you stared back at his smug face with a calm smile of your own.

“Here’s all you need to know,” you replied simply. “You current marketing strategy is inefficient and uselessly expensive. My team and I can save you money while also increasing your brand value and market reputation. Does it matter how we go about it as long as we bring you the necessary results?”

You saw the twinkle in his eyes and realized that you had won.

Bambams are extremely attracted to confidence.

“You have the deal,” Bambam informed you. His tongue darted out to lick his lips briefly as his eyes flickered up and down your body. “I hope to see a lot of you over the next few months.”

--

When a Bambam is interested in someone, everyone knows.

His affections towards you over the next few months were so obvious that every single employee of both of your companies knew that Bambam was pursuing you. It’s extremely difficult to resist a Bambam’s shameless and blunt attempts at wooing a woman. Bambams are persistent and consistent with their affections. 

Bambam makes sure you and your team get the best office in the building for whenever you have to work on site. A Bambam will ensure flowers are delivered to your desk every morning, he will ask you to have lunch with him in the most expensive restaurants. A Bambam will even find out what your favorite band is and leave concert tickets on your desk with a little heart and his personal phone number written on the envelope.

As difficult as it is, you can’t give in.  

Some of the gifts might seem thoughtful (like the concert tickets or the time he had your favorite food delivered to the entire office for lunch or the time he bought an enormous ice cream cake and had the entire team surprise you for your birthday) but a Bambam’s presents are always expensive and always materialistic.

Do you want to become a gold-digger?

I didn’t think so.

As difficult as it may be to send the gifts back and buy your own lunch even though your favorite dish has already been delivered to the office courtesy of Bambam, you absolutely have to resist.  Resist, no matter how difficult it is. Do not give in to those beautiful eyes and those smooth words. Do not let yourself become weak whenever Bambam looks disappointed at your repeated rejections. Do not listen to the other employees who try to convince you that they’re never seen a Bambam try so hard for a woman before. Do not believe the stories that you are the first person to have him wrapped around your finger.

These are all tricks. A Bambam knows the game better than you, he knows how to make a woman weak.

Guard your heart with walls of stone, or a Bambam will blow it down in seconds.

--

However, your problems do not end here.

Unfortunately, Bambams of the world love a good challenge. Even though a Bambam may be briefly deterred and thrown off by an unexpected rejection, they always bounce back stronger than before. A Bambam will be even more intrigued by your constant refusal to accept his gifts and ability to cut off all his flirtations. It will usually only lead to him being even more interested in you because Bambams believe that the world revolves around them. They are incapable of coming to terms with the fact that somebody simple might not care.

As your project neared a close, Bambam only grew more desperate and open about his feelings for you.

“Why won’t you let me take you out on a date?” he insisted. He had found you alone at an office party that had been thrown to celebrate the successful clothing line launch. Your entire marketing team had been invited and no expense was spared on the part of Bambam’s company. You had made them a lot of money this year. Bambam was looking as dashing as ever and you had to be careful not to look into his soft eyes, or it would make you weak.

“I told you, I’m not interested in dating you. Do I need to give you an explanation?”

Bambam pouted, his lips distracting you. You had to take a large gulp of your wine and hold your breath to avoid inhaling the tantalizing scent of his cologne. A Bambam always wears the best fragrances. But you weren’t about to give in and become the latest candy on his arm only to be thrown away once he was bored with you.

A Bambam would dispose of you the way he disposed of clothes that were out of season. Cruelly and without a second thought.

“But why? You’ve never even given me a chance. I’d understand if you got to know me and then decided that you don’t like me but you’ve been closed off since the beginning,” Bambam insisted. You had to hold your breath as he gently lifted a hand to your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Bambam’s soft brown eyes were gazing deep into yours while his thumb brushed your cheek. “Please give me a chance. One date. I don’t know what I did wrong but I can change your mind about me, I swear.”

“If this date doesn’t work out then will you stop trying so hard?” you demanded.

A sudden, childish grin spread across Bambam’s face.

“I will, I promise. So you’ll go on the date with me?”

You sighed. “Yes, all right.”

--

A Bambam always arrives in style.

He pulled up outside your apartment in one of his expensive sports cars and lowered the window to reveal himself decked up in a casual suit and designer sunglasses. You tried not to sigh when Bambam hurried to open the passenger side door for you. He informed you that he had the entire day planned out; he would take you shopping, followed by dinner reservations and then a drink at a club he owned. It sounded like a little too much for a single date but Bambams like to go over-the-top with things. Perhaps you should be more understanding.

You were pleasantly surprised at how fun it was to shop with Bambam.

He had an excellent taste in fashion which wasn’t surprising considering that he owned a designer label. Even though you were reluctant to roam around overpriced designer stores with him at first, Bambam didn’t push you to buy anything. 

Instead, he tried on goofy-looking sunglasses and made faces at you in the mirror. He even picked up random suit jackets and began striking sexy model poses while trying them on. You found yourself laughing from a mixture of embarrassment and bewilderment. How could a Bambam behave in such a foolish manner? But he had a pleasant laugh and you found yourself laughing along with him. The store employees stared at you both oddly but Bambam didn’t mind.

There was something refreshing about Bambam’s ability to behave like an idiot and not look even slightly embarrassed.

He did insist on buying you one particular black dress that you tried on, though. Bambam’s jaw had gone slack the moment you stepped out of the dressing room wearing it and you blushed under his intense gaze. He only looked at you for a few seconds before his own face turned pink and he averted his eyes and mumbled that you looked pretty. The smiles and laughs suddenly stopped there. Bambam had finished paying for it before you had even changed back into your ordinary clothes.

“Who said it’s for you?” Bambam asked coolly when you confronted him about buying the dress. He held the bag out of your reach. “I just wanted to buy it because it’s pretty. Don’t flatter yourself.”

You couldn’t really argue with that. Bambams sometimes had an unbeatable logic. He hadn’t said the dress was meant for you so you kept silent.

At dinner, Bambam had booked out the entire restaurant.

Even though the entire event was over-the-top and unnecessary, you couldn’t help but enjoy yourself. The dim candlelight and the expensive wine made for a very romantic mood. Bambam sat next to you in the booth and put his arm around your shoulder as you both sipped on the wine. His hands never roamed anywhere inappropriate but his voice was low and sultry when he whispered into your ear. Bambam told you how much he liked you, how stunned he had been the first time you both met and how he was falling harder for you every day.

“I don’t know why I’m so crazy about you,” Bambam whispered, making your entire body shiver. His warm breath was on your neck and you had to admit that you had butterflies in your stomach. “Your lips say one thing but your eyes say another. I’ve never been so attracted to anyone before. Am I really the only one who feels this way?”

You held your breath. Admitting to a Bambam that you had feelings for him was fatal.

You simply don’t do it.

“Probably,” you replied. “I’m not really feeling it. Don’t you think you’re trying too hard?”

There was a brief silence and Bambam pulled away from you slowly. You could see the disappointment in his face and the hurt in his eyes but you ignored them. 

A Bambam doesn’t care for you as much as he pretends to. Nothing will come first in his life besides his own money so there’s no use in feeling guilty. Bambams will cast you aside and get bored of you eventually anyway, so it’s better to break their hearts than your own.

Stay strong. You can’t seriously be falling in love with a Bambam!

The rest of the date was awkward and Bambam decided to drive you home soon afterwards. He had just started up the car when he got a phone call. Apologizing to you quickly, he answered the phone. Whatever information was conveyed to him seemed to upset him because he promptly made a call to a doctor and ordered them to go to a particular address urgently. You felt a little awkward as you listened to the conversation. When Bambam finally hung up you cleared your throat.

“Is everything okay?” you asked doubtfully.

Bambam blinked at you and then ran a hand over his face. “Uh… I’m not sure, actually. I’m sorry about this. I’ll just drop you off first because I kind of need to go somewhere urgently.”

You bit your lip. “If you need to leave, I can take a cab home…”

“No, no. I can’t make you go home alone when this is a date. I’ll drive you home myself. Do you mind if I just make a quick stop in between? It won’t take more than ten minutes, I promise. I’ll be really quick about it,” Bambam promised you. 

You nodded your agreement as he quickly took a U-turn and began driving in the opposite direction. He drove for about a mile before he suddenly parked the car in a side-street. “I’ll be back really quickly, I promise. Stay in the car, this isn’t a really safe neighborhood.”

Where the hell was he going? You sat silently in the passenger’s seat as you watched Bambam dart into a convenience store across the road. He came out with two huge bags of what seemed like food and then hurried down the street and disappeared at the turning. You bit your lip and waited silently. This little detour had thrown you off a little. Why were you at this random place, why had he called up a doctor? Was somebody he knew sick? Then why not take them to a hospital?

A Bambam shouldn’t ordinarily be behaving in such a mysterious way.

You waited for a full ten minutes before you let curiosity get the better of you. You got out of the car (taking the keys and locking the vehicle first, because you weren’t going to be responsible for Bambam’s convertible getting stolen) and walked in the direction that you’d seen him going. There was nothing here except random buildings. The only place where the lights were still on was a large building that had the gate open. As you stepped closer and squinted at the signboard, you realized that it was an orphanage.

Was this where Bambam had gone? Everywhere else was silent and empty at this time of night.

You approached the orphanage. There was a smiling woman sitting in the front reception area and she greeted you politely. You felt a little embarrassed and bowed to her. “Hi, I’m sorry. I just thought Bambam came down this way…”

Her eyes brightened. “Oh! You must be the girl Bambam was on a date with tonight!”

You nodded hesitantly. “So he is here?”

“Yes, he did. We’re so sorry for ruining your evening. Bambam told us that he was going on a date with a girl he’d liked for a long time but one of our boys has been extremely ill and his condition was getting worse. I’m terribly sorry for ruining your evening,” she apologized to you politely. You bit your lip and forced a smile at her. 

What was this place? Was it an orphanage that Bambam was sponsoring? Had he perhaps set it up? It wasn’t completely unusual for a Bambam to be involved in charity work although you had to admit it was a little surprising. Most Bambam’s only did charity if it helped with their publicity. 

“Oh, no, that’s okay!” you insisted, waving her apologies off quickly. “Is, uh, is the boy who was ill doing all right?”

“Yes, the doctor’s seeing to him now. Why don’t you come inside? I’m sure Bambam wouldn’t mind me giving you a tour of his childhood home. He does talk about you a lot.”

You stared at her. “His childhood home?”

The woman looked surprised. “Oh, you didn’t… you didn’t know? Bambam was here until his early teens, which was when he was adopted by an extremely rich couple. His adoptive parents allowed him to live an extremely lavish lifestyle but he always comes back to take care of the children who are still here. He says that he’s lucky to have been adopted into a rich family but the other kids who weren’t lucky enough should still have a chance at a nice life.”

You gulped.

A Bambam wasn’t supposed to have such humble beginnings. What was happening? Your calculations had been all wrong. Your heartbeat thudded as you followed the woman into a large room where a bunch of children were playing. Bambam was sitting in the corner and listening to a little girl talk about her dolls excitedly. He looked up at the sight of you and his eyes widened. he stood up and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“I thought you were going to wait in the car?” Bambam asked, his voice faltering slightly.

You raised an eyebrow at the man in front of you. Even though he was still wearing his designer suit and looked like a modern prince, you could see something different in his eyes. The little girl was upset that his attention had turned to you and began pulling at his pant legs. But Bambam was staring at you with wide eyes.

“You can’t come to a place with so many cute kids and expect me to wait in the car,” you replied with a pout. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Bambam looked down at the floor. “I thought it was too heavy a conversation for a first date.”

You smiled as you walked over to him and slipped your hand into his with a small smile. Bambam looked down at you with warm brown eyes and you bit your lip. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let a Bambam have your heart. Maybe, even though he liked luxury and money and expensive things, he knew the price that things like this came at. You opened your mouth to speak but you were interrupted by the little girl who was still tugging at Bambam’s pants.

“Oppa! You’re not listening to me!” she whined. “I still haven’t told you about Dolly!”

Bambam’s cheeks flushed when she fisted the cloth of his expensive designer pants in her little hands and you giggled at the sight. “Oppa?” you teased him with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little too old to be having four-year olds call you oppa? You’re old enough to be her father by now.”

Bambam lifted the little girl into his arms to quieten her whining and then gave you a sneaky side-glance.

“Didn’t you hear? If you’re handsome, then you’re an oppa,” he told you matter-of-factly.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, that’s the rule these days.”

You folded your arms across your chest and smiled. “Well, thanks for telling me… oppa.”

Bambam beamed at you, a childish grin spreading across his pouty lips as you giggled along with him. He swooped down and pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. Your own face flushed and the little girl in his arms began to whine, crying that she wanted a kiss from oppa too. You watched Bambam pinch her cheeks and tell her that she find get her own oppa to kiss her someday as a warmth exploded in your chest.

Maybe it’s okay that Bambams like their money. Maybe it doesn’t matter that they enjoy diamonds and fancy cars and expensive gifts from time to time.

Because deep down, a Bambam’s heart is made of gold.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

I Am Not Living, I Am Surviving Hug Me Michael x Reader

Warnings: this theme deals with depression and thoughts of suicide which could be triggering for some.

A/N: as someone that deals with depression I felt compelled to post this. Michael helps Y/N during her depressive episode, the reader (much like me tends to shut people out especially when things get difficult so I feel this on a personal level). Hope you guys take the time to read this as it is kinda personal for me, thanks guys and please let me know what you think. Note the lyrics used are from Britta Phillips version of the song Drive

//who's gonna tell you when

it's too late

who's gonna tell you things

aren't so great

you can't go on

thinking nothing's wrong

who's gonna drive you home tonight//

I was not alone, that there was someone somewhere who was able to articulate the seething, jumbled, brutal, pre-linguistic, thrashing, writhing, hazing, dulling pounding in my head. It wasn't just me. That single thought was the most important thing in the world to me, sometimes the one thing that kept me alive – a single false note of optimism would have shattered it all for me, left me thinking yes, it really is just me – the words people offer me really are just that, words, the hope they contain utterly irrelevant because they relate to an experience that is not mine.

‘I put on a brave front' it had been so easy to hide how I truly felt, laugh, joke act like I was completely fine. But truth was I knew deep down inside I wasn't masking it would only work for so long. I was rapidly sliding deeper and deeper into a very dark space. My symptoms got worse and soon I found it too difficult to even get up and out of bed in the morning.

‘You feel nothing. You shut down completely. There is no happiness, no sadness, nothing. You feel zero.’ Depression is not something that can be brushed away with a smile, or shooed away with a pat on the back. It’s something more deeper and profound. There’s no gadget to test which person is suffering from what type of depression, and there’s no instrument to measure the extent of depression.

Statistics say that as many as 1 in 4 of us will experience a mental health problem at some point in our lives. That means you know someone—probably several someones—with depression, anxiety, an eating disorder or something else. Isolation can have a crushing effect on a lot of people. Some people thrive on it, but humans on the whole are a social bunch and need to interact with others. When that isn’t possible, it’s easy to feel that the walls are closing in. But honestly all I was good at doing is pushing people away, I am afraid if they get to close if they see really see what I am going through that they might abandon me because it may end up being way too much for them.

I kept a diary somehow it felt safer to write down my thoughts, the one person I should be honest with is Michael but I honestly couldn't bring myself to do it. Would he be hurt? Would he hate me? So many thoughts in the back of my mind I pushed them away. I scribbled furiously in the journal and tossing it aside. Normally I hid it under a loose floorboard in our bedroom but on this night not giving it so much as a second thought I feel asleep journal wide open. Y/N didn't hear Michael when he walked in, he looked at you you were fast asleep. He noticed the leather bound book that laid open by your sleeping form. He didn't want to invade your privacy but something alerted him that something was on deed wrong. He looked at the small paragraph scrawled on the page, his face froze in fear at the words before him.

Dear Michael.

I've been thinking about ending my life. I don't know why I can't talk to you in person, so I bought this Diary in the case that I do end up killing myself you will know why I did what I did and that you cannot blame yourself. Michael you are the reason I am still here. for now. But the voices in my head are so strong and the pain that it is inflicting on me everyday, one more thing and I feel like I won't be able to hold on, but I will for you Michael  I will try my best for you.

Yours Truly,

Y/F/N Y/L/N

Depression is a hole and I'm slowly falling in trying to claw out and everyone I love is just standing there watching. Honestly I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep 'acting’ like I was ok when deep down inside I wanted to end it, quiet the voices leave the pain behind that quite frankly I felt like I was drowning in.

I opened my eyes I don't know how long I had been asleep or even what time it was. I looked to see Michael's concerned expression his piercing blue eyes felt like they had penetrated my soul. There my journal sat in his lap, Michael let out a breath attempting to steady himself. “Why won't you talk to me Y/N, tell me that something was wrong?” I couldn't even open up my mouth to speak it was like I lost all nerve to even respond. My first instinct was to bolt, I sat up quickly turning my body away from him. I wasn't able to even make it to the edge of the bed, Michael grabbed my arm “Y/N please talk to me don't shut me out!”

Michael's breathing started to get heavier as his eyes started to well up. Y/N  looked at Michael, saying nothing. He wondered what she was thinking. Finally, after a few moments, she started sobbing, and she leaned into him. Michael immediately pulled her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder, and struggling not to cry himself. ‘I was tired of feeling helpless. I had to do something, anything.’ ‘I remember that exact moment as the one where I started to feel good about myself again, I just wish it could've lasted longer…

There was another moment of silence, this one longer than the last, "I tried to tell myself that you'd get better, that you would get back to normal  but the truth is I didn't know that. I didn't know if you'd get better, you can't keep doing this to yourself Y/N, what if I never see you again! And the thought of everyone else just going on with their lives made me sick! So yeah,I am angry, and I am scared…  I didn't know what the fuck I am supposed to do!" Michael's voice finally broke as tears streamed down his face. Y/N, with tears in her own eyes, finally stood up. She pressed her forehead against Michael's and placed her hands on the sides of his head. ‘But most of all, I knew, come what may, I had at least one safe harbor.’ I looked up at Michael the look was unmistakable.

‘I'll never forget what I saw at that moment, looking into Michael's eyes.’

‘He loved me. This sweet, perfect man… loved me.’

After staring at him for another moment that seemed to last forever, she finally leaned in and kissed him. He quickly began kissing her back. The two of them continued this until it started to grow more heated, with the two of them running their hands over each other, and Michael kissing along the side of her neck.

He pulled back after a minute and looked at her.

"Are you… are you sure this is okay?" he asked, breathing heavily.

Y/N gave Michael a smile.

"I'm sure," I  said.

‘That wasn't entirely true. I wasn't sure, or rather I wasn't sure if I was sure.but I didn't know if that made a difference. I knew I wanted it to be okay this time.’

The two of them resumed, even more passionately this time. They began removing clothes and letting their hands roam over more of more of each other…

‘More than anything, I wanted it to be okay this time. I remember thinking, please, please, let it be okay this time.’

Michael continued kissing Y/N, who leaned her head back as the feelings came over her…

‘But it wasn't okay’

I inhaled sharply…

‘It was perfect.’

2 weeks later…

"How is Y/N?" Gallant ask, suddenly looking at Michael with concern on his  face.

Michael hesitated. He  came here to help Gallant with an issue with his salon , not unload his  own worries onto him. Still, lying to him didn't feel right either.

"I don't know, really," Michael  finally said. "She just doesn't seem to want to open up. I know she's been having a really hard time." Michael gave Gallant  a slight smile. “I think it's just going to take time.” Gallant responded softly.

‘The day were getting... bearable.’

‘So were the days after that, and the next after that.’

‘Michael found me a new doctor. A bit further away, but worth the trip. I was able to open up to her a little.’

‘Still, I couldn't shake this feeling that there was something I was supposed to do, but at first, I couldn't figure out what it was.’

‘But gradually I started to notice something…’

‘...something I couldn't shake once I noticed them.,

‘The signs.’

‘The ones most people didn't see. The ones no one saw in me until it was almost too late.’

Michael  wiped one last tear rolling down his face and closed his eyes.

“Please live for me Y/N," he said, softly. “Stay with me, I love you."

Y/N sighed in relief.

‘All I could do after that was live.’

Michael pulled me close to him tightly I could hear his heartbeat, a steady reminder to live

//Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.//

Mahatma Gandhi

[pinkanonwrites]

Sheena Is A Punk Rocker

I love punk and now so does Mirio. Enjoy! @yena-sama

Three blocks from the gates of UA, tucked in between a convenience store and a quirk consultation office, is a tiny little music shop called “The Beat Box”, a comfortably cramped little slice of heaven packed to the brim with obscure CDs, collector vinyls, and musical score books for the amateur to most experienced.

But Mirio didn’t only go to this shop due to the convenience of location and span of collection. No, Mirio went to The Beat Box because one of their most regular employees was unbelievably, ridiculously, irrevocably charming.

The first time he entered the store was the first time he met her. She was standing on a stepladder right next to the doorway, hanging a red-and-black guitar up upon the wall just above the door frame. A little bell jingled above the door as he stepped in, and she looked down to him just as he looked up to her. Mirio wasn’t used to having to look up at anyone.

“Watch your head there, hun.” You extended a hand and fluttered your fingers just above his head. More as a motion of warning than of contact he was sure, but he still felt the tips of your fingers brush just against his hair. “Wouldn't wanna clock you or anything.”

“Ah! Thank you!” He smiled, shuffling away a step or two. “That’s a pretty swanky guitar you've got there!”

“Not just any guitar. This beauty's a Mosrite Ventures II Slab Body, same guitar Johnny Ramone played.”

“Cool! I don’t really know what that means, but it sure looks impressive.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the blond’s unwavering optimism. “It means I’m a big music geek, and should probably get back to work.” You hopped gently from the ladder and landed at his feet.

Whoa, he’s a lot taller from down here. Broader too.

“Anyway,” You had to stop yourself from shaking your head to keep your mind from wandering. “Welcome to The Beat Box. CDs are down here.” You gestured your arms in a wide circle around you. “Vinyls are upstairs, books are on the back wall. Gimme a holler if you’ve got any questions.”

“Yeah, I will! Thank you!” And with that he began trawling around the store, head turning again and again as he tried to take in as much as he could at once. He didn’t seem to be looking for anything in particular like most of your customers. In fact, he sort of reminded you of a little kid going to the aquarium for the first time. Cute.

You grabbed a box of new releases from the counter and shuffled through the CD aisles along with him, trying to give him enough space that he didn’t feel like you were tailing around. He seemed interested in some of the posters on the wall, and you were nearly about to tell him about a few of the artists when another customer hollered you over from upstairs, tapping their foot and looking ready to fight with you over the authenticity of your vinyl collection on hand.

After a lengthy and frankly exhausting discussion you had been able to shoo them out the door (without a purchase, figures), but the blond boy was already gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the other end of this interaction, Mirio found himself magnetically fascinated by you. There was just something about the way your eyes lit up when you started talking about guitars and this ‘Johnny Ramone’ guy. You had an interesting sense of style, too. Lots of black and white and piercings, checkerboard patterns and safety-pinned flannel, but nothing about you was even the slightest bit unfriendly. You seemed to exude this warming kindness that hung onto Mirio even as he left the store. He wished that he could’ve found something to buy, just to talk to you one more time. Guess he’d have to come back.

Mirio held onto your little interaction all the way back to school, back to bed, back through the weekend and into the next week and before he knew it he was at the door of The Beat Box once again, pushing it open with a delightful little ring! and scooting inside and…

You weren’t there.

There was an older gentleman seated at the front counter, feet propped up on the glass surface as he flipped through a magazine. He only nodded at Mirio as he entered before turning his attention back to the pages. Upstairs there were a few customers pawing through records, and there was even a kid with his mother checking out one of the guitars, but you were nowhere to be found.

“Excuse me?” Mirio sidled up to the counter, where the man lowered the magazine just enough to see him. “Is there a girl that works here? Lots of piercings, knows about guitars?”

“... You an ex-boyfriend or somethin’?”

“N-no! She was just, you know, really helpful last time. I wanted to see if she was… here… again. Wow you’re right, that can sound really creepy in the wrong context.”

The man chuckled, lowering his feet and slapping the magazine down on the countertop. “You’re a funny guy. As long as you ain’t harassing my staff we ain’t got a problem, kid. Don’t think she’s in today though. Better luck next time.”

“Ah, thank you.” Nodding, Mirio moved towards the door to leave, when suddenly… there you were.

“Hey! Blondie!” You chirped at him, sending a pang through Mirio’s heart. “Glad you’re back around! We always love getting some fresh blood in this ol’ place.” You shuffled up to the counter and wordlessly the man there reached underneath it, handing you a three-ring binder without even looking up from his page. “Thanks, Akira-san.” You turned back to Mirio and waggled the book at him gently. “Forgot my notes. I usually work Saturdays but I’ve got a big exam this week. Have a good one!”

“Y-you too!” Was all Mirio managed to say before you were gone again in a whirl of torn, black clothes and jingling metal rings. Looking back towards the counter, the man (Akira?) had his nose back in the magazine, a cheeky little smirk across his face. He glanced up and met Mirio’s eyes.

“You gonna buy something, kid? Or are you only here for the eye candy?”

Any attempts at a thoughtful response were dashed out by Mirio’s frantic sputtering, which only caused the smile on Akira’s face to grow ever wider. Cutting his losses, Mirio made a beeline for the door, with a flustered ‘HAVE A GOOD DAY!’, hoping his cheeks weren’t quite as flushed as they felt. Welp, guess he’d have to come back again.

Third time’s a charm, right?

At least you would think. But three visits turned to four, to five, to seven, and now here Mirio was, trip number nine. And still he had made no progress in talking to you. It didn’t help that at least two more of those visits Mirio was greeted not by you, but by Akira, who took great delight in teasing Mirio about his consistency.

But trip number nine! That would be the one, Mirio was sure of it. He even brought Tamaki and Nejire for emotional support. Though Nejire wouldn’t stop smiling at him like a kid who had just caught their older sibling sneaking home after curfew, knowing that this particular bargaining chip would work in any number of situations.

“It’s not like you’ve got nothing to talk about!” Nejire teased, elbowing Mirio in the side. He just gulped, eyes flickering between the CD he was pretending to look at and you, leaning over the counter and chatting with another customer about their purchase, moving your hands around in big, bright gestures as you talked. “Just ask her what kind of music she likes!”

“Don’t you think she hears that question a lot?” Tamaki asked.

“Well then, ask what kind of music she’d recommend!”

“She probably hears that one a lot too.”

“You aren’t helping, Tamaki!” Nejire swatted him on the shoulder. She put both hands on Mirio’s back, pushing him eagerly towards the counter. “Now go get em’, tiger!” Mirio nearly stumbled, but he managed to catch himself on the counter’s edge.

“Hey Blondie!” You were smiling at him, and Mirio’s heart did a backflip off the inside of his ribcage. “Fancy seeing you around here again.”

“Haha, yeah! Guess I just can’t get away!” He scratched at the back of his neck, eyes cast down at the countertop.

“... Sooooooo, can I help you find any-”

“MUSIC!” Mirio burst out, and the two of you flinched back in shock simultaneously. His cheeks bloomed into a remarkable shade of red, and he stumbled over his words frantically. “You know a lot about music, and I don’t. So you might have some good ideas for music? That I’d like. For me. Yeah.”

You didn’t respond right away, which nearly sent Mirio’s brain into panic mode. But you giggled, reaching under the counter and pulling out a CD case.

“I kinda hoped you would ask that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Akira told me you’ve been here a lot but you haven’t bought anything yet, so I figured you might appreciate some suggestions.” You turned the CD case over in your hands a few times as you spoke. “I lean into a lot of punk-inspired music, and there’s a lot of subcultures to the original genre. So I went with something a bit lighter, more towards new-wave. Help you dip your toes in a bit.” Holding the CD out to him, Mirio took it carefully from your hands. The photo on the front was an up-close shot of a woman’s face, wearing stark eyeliner and bold, red lipstick. Reading the band name, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Heh! Blondie.”

“Yeah, I figured it was appropriate.” You looked away from him, one hand tugging on the ends of your hair. “I hope… I hope you like it.”

Had Mirio been even the slightest bit less put together than he already was he probably would’ve keeled over, the force of the metaphorical cupid’s arrow to his heart nearly turning him into a puddle. Thankfully he was able to hold himself together by the edges, though he knew he was probably smiling like an idiot. “How much?”

“It’s on me. As long as you come back next week and tell me what you thought.”

“Yeah! Yeah, definitely! I’ll definitely do that. So… See you next week?”

You laughed again, quietly. “Yeah. See you next week, Blondie.”

“Mirio.”

“Hm?”

“My name. It’s Mirio.” His heart was doing laps in his chest now, rattling up his insides something fierce.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Mirio.” You held out a hand, and he took it with a dreamy expression.

“Yeah…” He was so lost in you that he didn’t notice Nejire and Tamaki until they were practically right behind him. When Nejire tapped his shoulder he jumped, pulling his hand away as he did. With a final wave and a smile the three left the little shop, upon which Mirio immediately crumpled to the sidewalk in a blushing heap. Tamaki was quick to haul him back to his feet, nearly equally as flustered, and Mirio practically draped himself over the other’s shoulder as they began the trek home.

“She gave me a CD!”

“I know, Mirio.”

“And a nickname!”

“I know, Mirio.”

“And she asked me to come back!”

“Yes Mirio, I was there.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I’ll Meet You At The Bottom (Part 4)

This chapter went so much better. Probably because my computer didn’t implode this time.

Sokka grumbled to himself. He had screwed up big time and now he was going to have to start all over. He ran his hands through his hair, in his frustration the motion was a tad to rough and had him wincing when he’d managed to pluck a few strands from his head.

Hair.

The source of all of his pain and woes that morning.

 It was hair that had started his day all wrong. The hair wasn’t real of course, it was…or would have been a painted replica of it. He looked at the figure on the canvas, just as he had left it a few days ago. He was embarrassed to say that he hadn’t yet come up with a work around. He cursed himself for painting the background black, knowing very well that Azula had locks of the same color. His blunder had an upside though, in trying to work around this mistake Sokka’s mind was very far from Suki and the collection of demons that came with thinking about her. Yes, he decided, he had made a good choice in trying to paint the fire princess. Now if only he could figure out how to fix the hair situation.

 “You seem stuck.” Katara looked up from her book.

 “Why would you think that?” Sokka asked.

 “I don’t think I’ve seen you add a drop of paint since you finished layer two.”

 “Yeah well, I want her hair to be black…” he quickly added, “since she’s going to be a firebender.” He tapped the stick end of his brush on the canvas. “But I kind of already painted the whole background black.”

 “That’s an easy fix Sokka, you’re over thinking it.” Katara laughed. “Just add a hint of brown to the black paint.”

 “What is with you and adding brown?” Sokka threw his hands up.

 “Brown is a useful color.” She shrugged.

 “I guess.” He replied. Truth be told he was a little disappointed. He wanted her hair to be a glossy jet black, but he supposed adding a touch of brown—again—would have to do. He supposed it was just as well, at least if he was discovered, the brown hue to her hair would be another deceitful indicator that he wasn’t painting Azula. “Anyways,” he made a point of shuffling back in front of his painting, so to obscure it from Katara’s view. “I’m gonna get back to it.”

 “Why so secretive?”  Katara chuckled.

 “Well I don’t want anyone to see it if it looks awful.” Sokka lied.

 Katara rolled her eyes. “Okay, I can take a hint.” She stood up and collected her book. “I suppose I should see how Aang is doing.

 Sokka was hit with an immediate sense of guilt. He hadn’t meant to drive her away…

Okay so that had been the goal. But he truly hadn’t minded the company. Despite the light-hearted nature of his sister’s departure he was left with a bitter aftertaste. Was he already becoming the cranky hermit artist he always used to joke about.  Rather, was he falling back into that pattern. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, he’d already been there once…

 With a new thing to rid his mind of, he put his focus back on the painting with more intensity than ever.

 .oOo.

 Azula could barely get out of bed, she was shaky all over and with a dull drumming behind her eyes. She let herself flop back onto her mattress. With a feeling of dread tickling her belly, she realized that she couldn’t even remember actually climbing back into bed. With all of her soul, she pleaded with the spirits that it was she who’d done it on her own. And that she hadn’t been found twitching and screaming by one of the palace guards—or worse, her mother—and carried to bed. Considering no one was pounding at her door nor looming in the corner awaiting for her to achieve full alertness, she felt rather safe in saying she’d managed to get herself to bed.

 Her mouth was terribly dry and calling for her to attain water. She had every intention of listening, but as her hand reached for the glass she hadn’t finished the night before—opting to drink more cactus juice instead—she spied the small pouch. And she was staring at it again, that reddish hued dust. There was a lot she didn’t know about it; its origins, how Chan had gotten ahold of it, how much she could take in one sitting without risking too much, the plant in which it was derived from, and if it came from a plant at all. For all she knew she could be inhaling residue from one of the many war factories. The list of uncertainties went on and on. She knew very well that it was unwise to fight in uncharted territory and to tread carefully if she decided to do so anyhow. She supposed that her newly obtained powder was much the same. The only thing she knew of it was that Chan called it, Dragon’s Breath or sometimes Dragon Dust to throw people off. If he really wanted to muddy the trail he would call it Ruby Tears. All of which were very enticing, pretty names for something so risky. If it were up to Azula she’d refer to it as Dragon’s Eye, she certainly felt like she had been given a new sight—a sight that was to powerful for her body, which now seemed so small, at that.

 She also assessed that it must be a potent drug. Must be? She revaluated, no it was clearly potent, that was for sure. She’d only taken a pinch last night and it had sent her into what may as well have been the dimension over. She was lucky she’d only taken a tester for her first time.

 Azula closed her eyes, trying to remember just what she’d done the night before. Her cheeks flushed as the memories filtered in. She dropped back down onto the mattress and draped an arm over her eyes. No doubt, she’d made an idiot of herself and was thankful that she had been mistaken for a little boy—as degrading as that was. Not that she deserved anything else, she had and was planning on continuing to put herself in a lowly place.

 She sat back up and tossed the pouch from one hand to the other, pondering whether or not she truly wanted to give it a second go. The answer was obvious, of course she didn’t want to; it would be foolish and self-destructive. But Agni, her body, was already yearning for it. And she cursed it for its weakness. But then, her mind was growing meek too and seemed to crave it just as much.

Reluctantly, as if to justify to herself what she was about to do, she deduced that the only reason her trip had been so awful was because she’d downed a good portion of cactus juice to go with it.

 Indeed, she was demeaning herself. As far as she was concerned abuse of this nature was reserved for the peasant class, those who needed an extra kick to get by since they had nothing else. She’d never seen a royal nor noble hooked on what she was. Then again, she hadn’t known another person of high birth to have little as she. She hadn’t known a royal to have all the pieces in place for them and still fail as splendidly as she did.

 Without any further thought, and in a burst of anger, she tore the pouch open and dumped a larger portion onto her dresser. Agni, what a sight she was; hair a mess, robe undone, and hunched over her dresser sniffing up the powder like her life depended on it. She was horrible, truly horrible.

 .oOo.

 Sokka beamed from ear to ear. It was going much better than he expected. Despite the dash of brown, she still looked very much like how he’d seen her at the window. In fact, he thought it made more sense. After all, he had told Katara that his painting was set during sundown. It only made sense that the sun would cast a lighter hue on her hair. For once, something he was doing just seemed to have come together for him! Of course, black still probably wasn’t an optimal choice for the background of a room during sunset. But this was a good day so he would cut himself some slack, he was still a beginner, these things would come to him in due time.

 As was becoming a habit, neglected to wash his hand before wiping a bead of sweat off of his cheek. In its place he left a healthy smear of brown. He still hadn’t gotten to painting her face yet… nor her clothing for that matter, which was even more awkward now that he had her hair on there. She was looking more like Azula, but with less clothes. His face grew hot at the thought, he shook his head. He would not think about Azula like that, he could practically feel her reaching through the canvas to slap him.

 He looked towards her window, wondering what the real Azula was up to. Probably something more entertaining and important than some silly painting. He shrugged to himself, at least he had a hobby now. A few months ago he couldn’t even bring himself to pretend to enjoy things like hunting and talking with friends. He smiled wider know that just a few days ago he nearly found himself back there, and prided himself on turning it around this time. With a new spark of energy he decided that he would finish painting her face.

 Invested so heavily in his work he didn’t realize just how long it had been. “Hey, I thought you’d like to join us for dinner.” Zuko invited.

 Sokka started, nearly dropping his paint brush. He whistled out a relieved breath, “you’re lucky I had the brush away from the canvas!”

 “Sounds like you’re the lucky one.” Zuko laughed.

 “Which means you are too, I would have smeared all of this paint,” he motioned to his palette, “on you if you caused me to mess my painting up.”

 “Spoken like a true uppity artisan.” Zuko joked. “That looks nice so far, btw.”

 Sokka jolted again, another bought of pink coming to his cheeks. He really had to start being more careful especially this far into his work. He would invest in a more private area painting spot the next day, he was painting from memory anyhow, since his subject still hadn’t made another appearance.

 “Wow, Katara’s right, you really are defensive of your art. I don’t know why, it looks great.” He repeated.

 At first Sokka couldn’t place where the sinking feeling had come from. He considered for the first time, that Zuko didn’t know about Azula’s haircut. That was probably the only thing that saved him from getting busted. And for the first time, he considered just how lonely Azula might be. If Zuko didn’t know what she was up to, did anyone? It sent pangs through his heart.

He eyed the portrait with a new emotion. He had painted Azula with a gaze as sharp as the woman he’d known long ago and accompanied that stare with a more neutral curve to her lips—firm and serious. He had considered that the real woman might be wearing a look of distress or despair.

 “Thanks.” Sokka said at last.

 He wasn’t particularly listening to what Zuko said after and he may have cut the fire lord off in asking, “hey, how has your sister been, anyways?” He hoped it sounded as nonchalant and unsuspecting as he intended.

 The sudden widening of his eyes, indicated that Sokka had caught him off guard. “Well…she…I’m not quite sure…” he trailed off, confirming Sokka’s suspicions that his friend had no idea. “She’s…”

 “Lonely?” Sokka filled in.

 “Maybe, I guess.” Zuko replied. “I figured that if she wanted to talk to us, she would come and do it. So I just leave her alone, it’s better to keep your distance with her. She doesn’t seem to like the company when we give it to her.”

 You didn’t either, Sokka almost said, but we gave it to you anyways. Instead he replied. “Maybe she’s just bad at asking for it.”

 A sullenness came over him. “Maybe.” Something told Sokka that Zuko, as good hearted as he was, wouldn’t be reaching out any time soon. Not that Sokka could hold it against him; Azula wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. In fact, Sokka was willing to bet that she was one of the hardest.

 She had caused him so much pain before, yet painting her had given him a much needed breath of life. It was strange how the woman who had once been the source of all of his woes, was the one helping to build him back up. Unbeknownst to her, of course. And perhaps that’s why he made a mental note to take a break from his painting and pay her a visit.

 Not that he knew it, but, the woman sobbing and shaking in the corner of her room could use the visit.

[trexrambling]

Used to This - Part IV

Overview: You’ve lived with the Winchesters for years as a fellow hunter, and everyone has always stayed well in the friend zone. What happens when nightmares come haunting and Dean offers to help? Will things change, or is it all in your head?

Characters: Dean, Reader, a smidgen of Sam

Word Count: 1,638

Warnings: injury with lots of blood, mild language, some snark, some fluff, some questioning of coffee stipulations

A/N: There should only be one more part to go... But my brain sometimes scraps those plans. Thanks for all the love you guys have shown me for this :)

Beta’d by: @wheresthekillswitch - “I freaking love all of this fic but especially this part.” <-- you guys should guess which section she meant

Also beta’d by: @hannahindie - “the patented 'voice raises three octaves when a Winchester drops trou three feet away from you'.”

Read: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

“Dean, let me carry her so you can-”

“I’ve got her, Sam.”

“Look, you should-”

“I said I’ve got her.”

“How is she?”

“Just keep driving.”

“She’s losing a lot of blood. Why aren’t we going to the hospital, Dean?”

“Because if she lives through this she’ll kill me for taking her there.”

“I care about her, too. She’s family. Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Sam, just drive.”

“Don’t you dare leave me. You hear me, Y/N? Don’t you dare. Sam would never let me hear the end of it. And you still owe me ten dollars from that bet in Wyoming. So… just keep breathing, okay? You’re still here. I’ve got you.”

I woke up screaming, my hands flying up to tear away the blinding pain and sharp jabs from the base of my skull. Strong hands grabbed my wrists, pulled them to my front and trapped them within a single hand’s grasp while the other pushed my hips down firmly to fight against my thrashing. Another set of hands were on the side of my neck, my left temple, efficiently keeping my head still. I felt trapped, felt the tears spill over as I tried to move away again.

“Y/N! It’s Dean. It’s just me and Sam. Hey, look at me.”

My eyes were swollen and heavy as I opened them, squinting in the too bright light and aimlessly flickering as they searched for something to focus on. I found a dark red stain on the fabric in front of me and stared at it until its edges lost their fuzziness. I was lying on my side, on a bed, and as more and more red spots came into focus I realized what they were. That’s my blood. That’s a lot of my blood.

My eyes traveled to my confined wrists, recognizing the silver ring and strong fingers holding me still. I felt the bed dip beside me, and flannel and green blocked out the bloodstains. Dean’s head came to rest on the mattress, his nose inches from mine. He kept a steady grip on my wrists as he drew my hands to his chest. His other hand continued to push my waist down, but as he felt me grow still his thumb gently rubbed soothing circles against the exposed skin on my upper hip.

“We’ve got to stitch you up so the bleeding will stop,” Dean stated matter of factly. His calm tone helped offset my panic.

I swallowed deeply, the pain in my cranium unrelenting in its attack on my nervous system. “How bad is it?” I croaked out.

Dean slowly let go of my wrists and reached up to brush some stray hair from my face. “Well, bad enough that you’ll need a new blanket for your bed. Unless you like abstract blood art.”

I sniffed. “I just bought this bedspread.”

Dean’s thumb moved to wipe the tears off my cheeks. “I know.” He looked past me. “Ready, Sam?”

“Yeah. You’ll have to hold her still. It’s deep.”

Sam’s hands slid off my neck and temple, and I felt a tug as he pulled the thread tight through my skin. My legs twitched, and I hissed in pain. My fingers found Dean’s flannel and clutched the fabric tightly.

“Just breathe, Y/N,” Dean said gently. His legs wrapped around mine, trapping them in place. His right hand stayed on my waist while his left came up and behind my head. His fingers rested just above the tip of my ear, and he cradled my head firmly against the crook of his arm so my cheek was resting on his bicep.

“You got her?” Sam asked. I could feel his breath on my neck as he got close to keep stitching.

“Yeah, I’ve got her,” Dean replied. He looked at me then. “I really hope you pass out.”

“Gee, thanks,” I wheezed out, “If I die, all my money goes to Sam, especially that ten dollars.”

Dean smiled at me, and for a second I only felt warmth.

And then the needle hit my raw skin.

I did my best to hold still, but the overwhelming pain sent spasms throughout my muscles. I felt Dean’s grip grow tighter and tighter, heard him talking to me without really understanding what he was saying. I tried to focus on his voice as my limbs trembled against my own will.

And then, true to Dean’s wishes, everything went black again.

Fire.

It started at the back of my head and pulsed pain throughout my skull, down my neck, fading out in a steady ache along my shoulders.

I groaned and brought a shaky hand up to gingerly trace the gauze I found securely taped to my head and upper neck. I felt the lumpy line where Sam had managed to piece my skin back together, as well as a lack of what should have been hair bumps. In fact, aside from my soon to be scar, it felt pretty smooth under the bandage.

“Oh hey, you’re awake,” Dean greeted me, leaning forward in the chair he’d placed beside the bed. He reached out to place two fingers along the underside of my jaw. I stiffened at the contact.

“Are you checking my pulse?”

“Yep.”

My eyes rolled and took in my surroundings in the process. “Is this your room?”

“Also yes,” Dean answered, pulling his hand away. “Your bed could have fed a vampire by the time Sam finished stitching you up.”

My fingers sought the bandage again, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did you… did you guys shave part of my hair off?”

Dean’s facial features froze in a lopsided smile. He leaned back slightly. “Um… yeah. Yes. That might have happened.”

“Dude, what the hell?!” I snapped, moving to sit up and immediately plopping back down at the wave of dizziness that swept through my system. I scrunched my eyes shut and moaned into the pillow, “Just because Sam won’t let you cut his hair doesn’t mean that mine is fair game.”

Dean chuckled softly. “We only shaved off what we needed to. It was either that or let you bleed out.”

“The latter, please and thank you.”

“I never took you for the beauty queen type, Y/N.”

“S’not that,” I growled at him, “everything just hurts. I feel like pudding with nerve endings.”

I opened my eyes to see Dean looking at me, concern narrowing his eyes. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. A small smirk turned up one corner of his mouth, “Maybe some coffee?”

“Oh, you’re funny.”

“I’m hilarious.”

I rolled my eyes again. “I really just want to sleep.”

Dean tapped his forehead. “Head injury, remember? Sam said to wake you up every hour, just to be safe.”

“Well that’s just great,” I groaned.

“Well, you could be dead, so there’s that.”

“You can take that insightful optimism and shove it straight up your-”

“Hey.”

Dean’s hand touched my shoulder, sending a different form of fire shooting through my arm. I looked at him closely for the first time. He was still in his hunting clothes, dark bloodstains coating his sleeves and dotting his jeans. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair askew from where he’d obviously been running his hands through it. He looked more tired than I’d seen him in months.

“Have you slept at all?” I whispered.

He smiled slightly. “Worried about me, Y/LN?”

I met his gaze. “Yes. You look like hell.”

Dean’s hand slid off my shoulder, traced a route down my arm, and stopped at my hand before lightly curling his fingers around mine. He stared at our hands as he gently rubbed the back of mine with his thumb, and I watched as his brain broke down all the thoughts he had stored in it.

He looked at me again. “For a second there I thought I was going to have to burn another friend’s body.”

I squeezed his fingers as best I could, not really sure what to say.

He was quiet for a moment before he continued. “So you heard the part about the ten dollars, huh?”

“It’s a vague memory.”

“Hear anything else?”

I smiled. “Besides threats to my life if I died, not really.” I saw relief flash across his face, and my curiosity was instantly piqued. “Why? What’d I miss?”

Dean squeezed my hand before sliding his fingers away. “Just Sam comparing hair lengths with you while we shaved it all off.”

I scowled. “If I could move without passing out I would punch you, Winchester.”

“Well, thank goodness for major head trauma then.” He stood and started to strip off his clothes, dropping his bloodstained flannel on the ground before quickly shimmying out of his jeans.

My eyes went wide. “Whatcha doing?” It came out as a squeak. I blamed the head injury for my vocal cord incompetency.

“I thought you wanted to sleep?”

“Well yeah, but-”

“And you’re in my bed.”

“I mean you moved me here so-”

“And someone has to wake you up every hour.”

“But Sam isn’t a doctor so how do we know-”

“Y/N.”

I snapped my mouth closed.

It’s just coffee, I told my brain.

Dean pulled back the covers on the empty side of the bed.

It’s just Dean.

I felt him crawl in beside me, his warmth already trickling to my side despite him keeping his distance.

It doesn’t mean anything.

The light clicked off, and I heard him sigh as he settled all the way into the bed.

It’s just-

An arm wrapped around my waist.

It doesn’t-

Dean’s lips ghosted along the edge of the bandage on my neck.

...mean…

His legs found mine.

...anything.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Talk to you in an hour.”

-Read Part 5-

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