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cno-inbminor · 3 years ago

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iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings: DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,�� you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him. It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,” he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. ��So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #childe #tartaglia #childe angst #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #this fic maybe took two years off my life

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kiribakuficrecs · 4 years ago

Note

hello!!! im going on a very long trip at the end of april and I'm looking for some very long fics to download to keep me entertained! i dont care what they're about as long as there's no major character death or mentions of non-con. ur blog is a godsend ilysm and you do such a good job thank you so much 🙏

hi there!! i definitely have a lot of good lengthy fics i can recommend to you!

quote love unquote by newamsterdam

Sero nods. “It’s the chance of a lifetime, really,” he says. “We want you to date Bakugou, for the sake of his reputation with the press. Some public appearances, a few ‘candid’ photos. For at least a couple of months.”

“Bakugou sent you to ask me to date him?” Kirishima asks, baffled.

“Of course not. We, his people, are asking you to date him. He’s going to have to get on board, if he wants his career to survive. And in the bargain, Riot will get all sorts of publicity, because their lyricist will be dating one of the industry’s hottest stars. A win for everyone.”

When Kirishima Eijirou's band hits the big time, he's not prepared for his newfound fame. He's even less prepared to meet the actor he's been crushing on for years, or to start dating him as a publicity stunt. The closer Kirishima gets to Bakugou Katsuki, the more he realizes he's in over his head. But it's hard to stop, once his heart is in it.

acceptance and denial by poteto

It all goes okay when Kirishima decides to come out to his friends and it all goes wrong when decides that Bakugou is the best fake boyfriend material.

cause the darks not taking prisoners tonight by imatrisarahtops

“Are those soba noodles?” Kirishima asked.

Again Bakugou’s only reply was a grunt. He offered no further explanation—not that Kirishima honestly expected one—as though making soba noodles from scratch at half past four in the morning wasn’t at all a bizarre occurrence and made complete and total sense. For a fleeting moment, Kirishima even wondered if maybe he was the odd one here. Besides, he’d already decided it was generally not in his best interest to question these types of things with Bakugou, especially when it was something essentially harmless.

When Kirishima has a nightmare and is unable to fall back asleep, he accepts defeat and decides to study in the common area of the dorms. What he doesn't expect to find is Bakugou, also very much awake, and Kirishima can't help but think that maybe they're both having the same problems with sleeping. If he's worried, it's just because they're friends. (Right?)

the weight of your hand by kamin

That night, to the citizens, the explosions were a jolt of fear at every blast, but to the heroes and the students of UA, they were punches and swings, fierce fighting and loud strength. The explosions were the pulse of the battle, and the power of a boy that would never back down.

One after another, explosions set a chorus through the shuddering city.

And then, suddenly—the explosions stopped.

(In which Bakugou’s kidnapping goes a little differently, and just a few seconds could change so much.)

so take my hand (your life will be brighter) by multiclassmaps

When a stranger shows up at the ice rink during Bakugou's usually private training sessions, Bakugou expects to hate him. He doesn't expect to develop feelings that become increasingly difficult to deny, or for them to help each other sort through their emotional baggage. - Bakugou really didn't like Kirishima's smile. There was something about it that made his stomach hurt, something about it that made it difficult to focus. He definitely hadn't thought about that smile on his way to the ice rink that day. He definitely hadn't.

distance makes the heart grow fonder (false) by dragontrappedinhumanskin

When Bakugo and Kirishima get hit by a quirk that forces them to literally stick together or face the less then desirable consequences, how the fuck is Bakugo supposed to keep his crush hidden?! Well, turns out he never needed to.

-- “Well, this fucking sucks, how are we supposed to train?!” "Really closely?"

perihelion by tauontauoff

Bakugou was a comet, blazing out of reach. Kirishima knew he was stupidly lucky that his furious trajectory went by close enough that his fingertips got to graze the cowl of fire. It was enough.

During Christmas Class 1A and 1B spend a laid-back week learning about extreme environment hero work in the Alps. Kirishima was used to keeping part of his feelings for Bakugou hidden, and had every intention of keeping it that way, but things don't always go according to plan.

fight me by mr_todoroki

Bright red, spiky hair. Annoyingly bright smile. Clothes that radiate ‘look at me’ vibes. Neon yellow tank top with black shorts. And those were definitely crocs on his fucking feet.

Yeah, Katsuki hated this guy.

Bakugou gets a new roommate.

quietly by chezka

“We’ve been taking the same way to and from school for weeks,” Kirishima grinned, and then when Bakugou frowned at him he put on an affected pout, tilted his head so that he was looking at him through his thick, long lashes, “you never noticed? Am I that easy to miss?”

He could barely finish the sentence before a laugh escaped his lips, and Bakugou rolled his eyes, hit him with a shoulder a little more violently than necessary.

“You stick out like a sore thumb, broom-head,” he grumbled, promptly ignoring Kirishima's whining about his hairstyle when it started coming, “I didn’t notice ‘cause I didn’t care.”

“And now you do?”

everyone knows that cats are independent by purplepersnickety

Eijirou enjoys his job, working the graveyard shift at a 24/7 coffee shop. His daemon Riot is always there to keep him company, and he likes meeting the early-morning patrons and giving them the best possible kick-start to their day. It's been his routine for about a year now.

Then one day, a grouchy guy with a daemon in the form of a lion walks into the shop in the dead of night, and Eijirou decides to strike up a conversation with him.

punks not dead by wrunic

“So you want to use me to piss off your mom?” Kirishima summarized, raising one pierced eyebrow at Katsuki.

“Look, if you want to be all fucking judgy about it, I take cash,” Katsuki said, dropping his hand palm up on the table.

“Hey now,” Kirishima said, raising his hands in surrender, “I didn’t say I wasn’t doing it. I’m always down for a little chaos.” He flashed a grin, showing off his ridiculous shark teeth.

“Good,” Katsuki said. “We start tomorrow."

sent, delivered, read, loved by kiribakuhappiness

Kirishima E. [6.49pm]: ur okay for such an angry dude bakugou! :)

Bakugou K. [7.12pm]: FUCK YOU!

Kirishima E. [7.14pm]: haha! :D ttyl!

Bakugou K. [7.48pm]: FUCKING WHAT DO THOSE DUMB LETTERS MEAN???

Bakugou K. [7.52pm]: I JUST LOOKED IT UP DONT FUCKING TALK TO ME LATER!

Bakugou K. [7.52pm]: STOP TXTING ME!!!

- OR -

Bakugou's and Kirishima's relationship develops from classmates to friends to more, as told through their text conversations.

flicker by mr_todoroki

He was starting to feel depressed. Life was so uninteresting. It was so mundane and forgettable. He had no one to hang out with besides Kota, his family didn’t even live in the city.

He grew his hair out as some sort of rebellion, some sort of stand to make his life the slightest bit more interesting. But he could already feel himself giving in to the pressure of cutting it. He needed to work to live. Without a job, he’d truly have nothing.

Kirishima never applied to UA, therefore never became a hero.

let’s get down to business by kjelfalconer

Katsuki Bakugou, one of the brightest rising stars on wall street, is in need of a new personal assistant. Again. Could Eijirou Kirishima finally be the one to last more than two months?

Katsuki's long suffering HR department sure hope so.

something about us by bigstupidjellyfish

nothing like being in highschool and having no idea how to deal with emotions

fireproof by inkbender

Four years after a classmate nobody seems to remember is kidnapped by the League of Villains, Kirishima drags an amnesiac hobo he found washed up on the beach into his apartment, attempts to teach him how to adult (with varying degrees of success), and discovers along the way that the line between heroism and villainy is quite fine indeed. Plot-divergent after episode 45, the Forest Training Camp arc.

blood riot by magicallee (alternatively)

Kirishima from a universe with no quirks is mind-swapped with an alternate universe version of himself where there are superpowers.

And in that universe he’s a super villain.

And Bakugou is the superhero who caught Evil-Kirishima and put him in prison.

blindside by drowclericpelor

“You’re the first guy friend I’ve had that I can just like, be friends with. You’re either the most unthirstiest boy ever...” Camie shrugged and made another wobbly illusion appear between her hands. It looked like a sparkly rainbow with the word ‘friendship’ beneath it, accompanied by what Bakugou assumed was supposed to be a twinkling sound effect, but it had a tinny quality to it and sounded far away. “...or I just ain’t got the kinda straw you like to ssssip.”

Carefully, Bakugou considered the strange turn this conversation had taken.

He had never been asked, point blank, if he was gay before. And he honestly had never thought about how he would respond. Lying about himself didn’t sit right with him. But he’d always wanted to wait until he was the number one hero - when he stood above everyone else - before coming out. Though he’d had times when he’d thought about doing it before then and had almost gone through with it once. But being the number one hero came first. It wouldn’t matter what people would say about it then as long as he’d risen to the top.

Bakugou knew his lack of a response would give Camie all the answers she needed.

flour power by wingsonghalo

“I’m telling you now, Shitty Hair,” the blonde growled, “I am not gonna play house with you. We will cart this stupid flour around for a week like the assignment says. But some of our idiot classmates are naming the thing and setting up ‘playdates’ and dressing it and I am not doing anything that stupid. Got it?”

Kirishima and Bakugou are paired up to take care of a flour sack for a week. It would be so simple, except nothing with Bakugou is ever simple. Also Kirishima might be kinda sorta completely head over heels for him.

sunchaser by chonideno

that feeling when you suddenly want to jump off a cliff for no reason but instead of a cliff it’s your best friend and instead of jumping it’s growing feelings out of nowhere

or how Bakugou has to try really hard not to throw everything to the wind, and Kirishima doesn't help

i also have a tag specifically for fics that reach somewhere between 30k-70k words long if you wanted to check that out as well! i hope you enjoy the fics here and that i was able to help, ily enjoy your trip!!! :D

#kiribaku fic rec #kiribaku #answered

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juletheghoul · 4 years ago

Text

Mysticus Chapter 2

Ezra x F!Reader Soulmates AU

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Nothing yet - maybe language (Smut later on)

Masterlist Chapter 3

Later that night you realize that after your mystery patron left, you made your way back to the shitty motel you were staying at seemingly in a daze. Almost as if you were on autopilot.

Laying in bed having showered and locked up everything tightly, you stared at your dog curiously. She didn’t seem much different than she usually did.

“What the hell was that about huh? Did you turn into a teddy bear all of a sudden?” you often spoke to her as if she’d respond. You supposed that in some ways she usually did, or at least you felt as though she did. She looked at you without lifting her head, the barest hint of acknowledgment.

“Excuse me ma’am, I’m speaking to you.” You stared at her – she looked away and let out a heavy sigh. Wow. Rude. Maybe he smelled like someone familiar? Either way its lucky she didn’t bite or growl at him, relieved that you didn’t have to deal with that fall out.

You stared at the little mark in your palm with the little sliver of light that cut through the darkness of the sad little room you both had been staying in for the past week and thought about it’s twin on the man at the carnival. His voice in the back of your mind as you pictured his face. The smile that made your heart beat faster, those deep brown eyes that crinkled giving you that smile. The feel of his lips on the back of your hand, you could almost feel it as you drifted off to sleep.

The same sliver of light woke you the next morning, and not in the best of moods. You had a vague sense of nightmares but nothing concrete, a couple of minutes later you couldn’t even remember. The feeling however didn’t go away, and it followed you like a cloud throughout the day. After taking the dog out to handle her business and grabbing yourself some breakfast you sat in the bed and upturned your earnings to see what you were working with.

“Okay, so we have $115 from the carnival along with the little bit we still have for emergencies. Which means we’re at a grand total of $637.53. That’s not too bad huh?” the dog gave a little huff.

“One more day at the carnival wouldn’t hurt – lets see if we can make it an even $700. Don’t look at me like that, it’s got nothing to do with that guy he probably forgot what he said. I doubt we’ll ever see him again.” You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince. The dog was ever silent and you gave her a little frown but put your money away anyway.

You decided that no matter what happened at the carnival, this was your last night in this town. It felt as though you’d stayed there too long already. To harden your resolve, you checked out of the motel early and packed up everything you owned - double and triple checking that you didn’t miss anything - into the back of your jeep. You used the rest of the day to restock everything you needed for your life on the road – snacks, extra gas for the long stretches of road between gas stations, dog food & snacks for your girl, as well as basic toiletries that had been used up or were running dangerously low. Everything went into the back of the jeep where you had your life neatly organized. Feeling better about your provisions, you made your way over to the carnival.

It was a slow night. Not as many customers as you would have hoped for and the cloud over your head felt as though it was getting heavier, full to bursting with rain and hail, thunder and lightning. The feeling that seemed like a vague suggestion of a bad dream, now sat heavy and low in the pit of your stomach like a brick. You tried to shake it off but the slightest movement had you whipping your head around, any normal carnival noise had you jumping and it wasn’t just you. The dog’s ears kept prickling like she too was on the lookout. Even the smells of carnival, which normally were the only thing you liked about it – were making you queasy. Donuts and funnel cakes, cotton candy and roasted nuts, things you usually liked now were cloying and were threatening to make you gag.

You felt him before you actually saw him and when your eyes locked and he gave you that secret smile, it felt as though the wind got knocked out of you.

He sat down opposite you and you stared at each other for a few minutes in silence. You mapped out the lines of his face unabashedly while he did the same. You noticed the scar on his cheek that you’d somehow missed the night before and again that wild urge to reach out and touch him struck you again.

“Good evening Birdie, I cannot put into words the euphoria I feel in seeing you again.”

“Do you always speak like that?” you blurted out, as your eyes widened and the colour rose high in your cheeks.

“Do you find it bothersome?” he asked seemingly unphased, you’re guessing you probably aren’t the first person to ask him.

“No.” You certainly didn’t speak in such flowery prose but then again, you travelled alone with a dog so your conversations were very one-sided.

“I found myself contemplating how a petal as exquisite as yourself found herself providing your services in this barren no-name town. I suspect you’re not a local?”

“Nope, just passing through.” You ignored the compliment.

“As I suspected. As am I petal. I don’t suppose you’d be agreeable to coming to a little arrangement? I’m looking for transport out of this place and as romantic as the thought of purchasing a bus ticket and driving off into the sunset with strangers on all sides is, I’d rather travel with someone as lovely as yourself to look at.” You gawked at him. “I realize that we do not know each other but I assure you petal I am as harmless as a newborn kitten.” Yeah. Right. You weren’t afraid of this man in any way, you couldn’t explain why but there was something in the pit of your stomach that told you he was safe. Were you actually considering this??

“You want me to give you a ride? You don’t even know where I’m going, and how do you know I’m harmless?” You crossed your arms over your chest to hide the frantic beating of your heart, as if he could somehow see it.

“Call it intuition. What do you say? Are you agreeable?” He reached out his hand to shake on your agreement. You stared at his hand momentarily when a thought struck you.

“What do you say girl, should we pick up a stray?” You looked over at your dog. She stood up and walked over to him – he smiled and pet her behind the ear and she licked his hand again. That settled it.

“Agreed.” You both shook on it.

It was only as you both walked over to your jeep that you realized you’d never asked him his name.

At first it was a little strange having someone other than the dog in the Jeep, but he volunteered to drive and you couldn’t help but admit that it was nice. It was nice to be in the passengers seat with the window open, sun shining on your face, wind blowing through your hair and the steady hum of his voice lulling you into a state of relaxation you haven’t felt since god knows when. That was another thing that was strange. Conversation. You spoke to the dog often but she didn’t respond. Not verbally anyway. You both made your way through each town, deciding off the cuff whether or not you wanted to stay or keep going. It was also very nice having him pitching in with gas money. The first time you pulled into a gas station he was out of the car before you could fully comprehend what he was doing, filling up your tank and walking in to pay without so much as a word. As he got in and dropped a bottle of water in your lap he gave you one of those smiles that made your heart skip a beat, and noticing the look of confusion on your face he laughed lightly.

“I figure if you’re courteous enough to allow me to accompany you in your cross-country travel, the very least I can do is contribute with the cost of fuel. Now I have purchased some water for you because you have to stay hydrated, especially in this heat and I’m guessing the little lady riding in the back might also be a little thirsty. What do you say girl, do you need to go about your business?” the dog perked her ears up as he grabbed her leash to lead her outside.

You were left speechless, but glad you didn’t have to have the awkward conversation when you eventually did run out of gas money. That was another thing that seriously weirded you out. He spoke to your dog as if he’d known her forever – no fear – no hesitation and while for other dogs that was usually fine, you knew for a fact that your dog was most decidedly not open to new people. Except him it seemed. You watched as he led her near the trees while she relieved herself and trotted back happily for a drink of water. Any part of you which held a little bit of regret at readily accepting him joining you was gone in that moment.

--------

Tag List: @foli-vora @frannyzooey @freak-nasty-thick-dick-mando @marydjarin @thirstworldproblemss @cannedsoupsucks @ilikechocolatemilkh @lori-tovar

#ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x female reader #soulmates au #prospect ezra #ezra from prospect #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #ezra (prospect)#ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra (prospect) x you #prospect fic #prospect #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 3 years ago

Text

Outlanders: How Jinjer survived a revolution and built their own world

Jinjer’s resilient spirit was forged in the civil war that erupted their native Ukraine in 2014. As the groove metal quartet prepare to unleash their fourth and most complex album to date, singer Tatiana Shmayluk relives the turmoil that shaped them. Cue: one of modern music’s most remarkable tales of survival, resistance and sheer determination…

It was when the first fighter jet flew overhead that Tatiana Shmayluk realised she had to run.

For the past few months, the mood in Ukraine had been growing increasingly tense. As a former USSR state, in spring 2014 the country had only had independence from Russia since 1991. Many citizens had wanted then-President Viktor Yanukovych to sign an agreement aligning the country closer with the European Union in November 2013. Plenty of others wanted to stay close to Russia. Protests began across the country. Then violence. Then Yanukovych was ousted from office in February 2014. Then more violence.

“There was a revolution,” says Tatiana. “There were huge riots in the main square of Kiev. In the end, our president, his ass was kicked out and he left the country. That was crazy. And then everything turned into chaos. And that’s when people really started hating each other.”

That April, following a highly suspect vote on whether to stay or go which resulted in a widely disputed declaration of autonomy for the region around Tatiana’s home-city of Donetsk in the east of the country, on the border with Russia, armed conflict commenced, involving Russian troops, tanks and air power. So began what Tatiana calls “a civil war – Ukrainians attacking Ukrainians”, with those loyal to their former Soviet masters on one side, and those wanting to break free, and have independence and closer ties with the EU on the other.

You may remember news footage of protesters banging dustbin lids at lines of soldiers and riot police. The politics of the situation are obviously layered and complex, but the simple version is: imagine a turbo version of Brexit that actually tore the country in two and resulted in one region declaring an independence that’s somewhat disputed by most of the world that isn’t Russia. And with a lot more violence. And a conflict that’s still piling up bodies now.

Tatiana was having a barbecue when she realised what was about to happen. “We were at a picnic, not far away from my building where I lived,” she says today from her flat in the Ukrainian capital, Kiev. “We were just chilling on the grass, eating food and stuff. And we heard this loud sound in the sky – we looked up and saw a jet. And that was that. We just grabbed our stuff and ran home, and we started figuring out how to leave before it was too late.”

Had Tatiana and her friends – including other members of her band, Jinjer – waited much longer than they did, their passage to Lviv some 1,300 kilometres to the west, where bassist Eugene Abdukhanov and his wife were already living, might have been much more hazardous. Even as they “packed all our shit into a van” and made a break for it, the country was starting to change shape around them.

“Already there were borders built being built around our region,” she says. “And I remember when we were crossing it, we were met by a guy, a soldier with a weapon. And then we heard [machine gun fire] somewhere very close to us.”

As she describes this, Tatiana makes an almost amusing machine gun noise, but she is painfully aware that even seven years on, the situation remains a serious one. “There’s no way out for this problem,” she says, “No solution. And that’s really, really sad.” If one needed an example of the lasting effects here, her parents have remained behind in what she calls, with almost mundane succinctness, “the war zone”.

“There’s an actual border between Ukraine and the former parts of the country, and it’s all blocked. And due to the pandemic, they have no chance to cross borders,” she explains. “They cannot receive money from the government, their pensions. I always tell my mom, ‘Hey, mom, just try once to do this, make really big effort and cross this border, even [if you have to go] through Russia. Just come here and stay here. I can help you in any way possible.’ But she is old school. And when you have been living on this earth for over 60 years, it’s really hard to change your way of living.”

But that’s what Tatiana and Jinjer have had to do. And growing from such trying circumstances has only made them more rigid in their resolve. Because literally having to run for your life will have an effect on a person. “Growing balls, maintaining your balls,” is how she puts it.

“Of course, it makes you stronger,” she says. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Today, Tatiana has lived in Kiev for more than five years. As Jinjer’s singer, she is one of the rising stars of European metal, and made her living visiting countries as far-flung as Argentina, Australia and Japan to play her band’s music. Next week, the band release their fourth album, Wallflowers, a furious, razor-sharp work of metal that will delight fans of Cradle Of Filth and Conjurer alike, and will add nicely to streams that, in total, already sit at over 100 million.

Though she says that she’s only been recognised around town a handful of times, and that she probably gets noticed more for the tattoos that cover her arms and neck (“Old women who were born in the Soviet Union really reject people with tattoos,” she says. “They look at you like you’re a prisoner, or a prostitute…”) than for her music, at 34 life for Tatiana is very different to what she knew growing up. As a kid in the early ’90s, after the collapse of the USSR, her family were, she says, “average”, but there were clues that the Shmayluk family were not one of society’s ‘haves’.

“I remember that we couldn’t afford meat,” she recalls. “After the Cold War ended we got a lot of American food, like veggie burgers. It looked like oatmeal with brown [fake] chicken that you make into patties, and then you fry them. You eat them as kind of meat, but it’s not. It’s just some shit, like some very plastic stuff. I realised how poor we were. And I was crying, ‘Mom, I just want some meat. I don’t want to eat this.’”

Elsewhere, though, Tatiana remembers her childhood as being “great”, a time she looks back on with fondness. “We didn’t have internet and stuff, so we just played outside all day long. And school was awesome.” The food imports post-Cold War might not have been the most brilliant thing she had ever seen, but the new order also brought with it more western culture. MTV introduced six-year-old Tatiana to hip-hop (“I’d practice dancing like MC Hammer”), but via going through her brother’s room and raiding his tape collection – often bootlegs – she also got turned on to Nirvana, Metallica and The Offspring.

“We had this family tradition that every evening we had supper together around the same table,” she remembers. “When I discovered The Offspring, I put Smash on my huge headphones. I was sitting in a chair, eating, and I wasn’t talking to anyone from my family, just listening to music. And then when I finished, I just sat back and just enjoyed the music, doing nothing.”

Her ability to both lose and find herself in music turned into doing something more significant at high school when, after years spent doodling herself playing guitar in a band with other girls in a sketchbook, Tatiana performed her first gig as part of a talent contest, doing covers of songs by Limp Bizkit and German metallers Guano Apes (“No-one voted for us,” she laughs). Her first gig as an audience member, meanwhile, came a few years later, when Soulfly played in Kiev. Despite the fact she didn’t actually get to see Max Cavalera and his band onstage, it was an experience in itself.

“I traveled from Donetsk to Kiev, like, 700 – 800 kilometres,” she says. “My parents were very protective, they didn’t want me going anywhere on road trips or anything, and they didn’t give me any money to spend. I only got to watch maybe 30 minutes of the show, because my boyfriend got drunk and started a fight with someone. Security grabbed him and threw him out of the club. It was quite a shitty day!”

In 2010, aged 23, having completed language studies at university, and working briefly at a dating agency, Tatiana joined Jinjer. Two years later, they self-released their debut EP, Inhale, Don’t Breathe. A year after that, they played outside Ukraine for the first time, in neighbouring Romania. “That gave us a push to move forward, because we really liked it,” she says. “And although we didn’t bring any money back – we didn’t earn anything – we realised that we want to do this, and we’re going to overcome any obstacle that is waiting for us.”

Eight months later, this would be put to the test by fleeing the war. Having moved to Lviv, Jinjer – Tatiana, Eugene, guitarist Roman Ibramkhalilov and then-drummer Yevhen Mantulin – then all moved into what the singer describes as “a summer house” just outside the city. Soon, the band became a full-time concern. They still had nothing, but it was a more fun nothing.

“We were all just hoping for the best, touring just with money that we had, earning nothing, like one euro,” she says. “Sometimes we didn’t have anything to eat, basically, because we were broke, because everyone had just quit their jobs. We just had some coins to buy a beer. That was intense. But I remember those years only with a warm heart. That was fun. That was a really huge challenge for just people who had never done that before, but we happened to overcome all this shit because we stayed together.”

But as touring became a more regular thing and things for Jinjer seemed to be on the up and up, the band once again found themselves faced with bad luck that most will, mercifully, never know. On tour in 2014, they had a long drive to Russia for the next run of shows. Stopping at a friend’s house in Kiev for the night, Tatiana took a taxi back to her own place, leaving everyone else to continue partying and drinking. At 4am, she got a phone call about Yevhen.

“They said, ‘You have to come here because he’s broken his spine,’” she recalls. “He fell out of the window. Everyone [had gone] to sleep, and he stayed there in the kitchen, sitting on the window frame, smoking. And then he fell asleep, and fell from the third floor. They heard someone screaming in the middle of the night, but they didn’t realise – they thought that it was maybe a dog or something. And then someone checked the kitchen and he was not there. Then they looked down and saw him just lying there.”

By some miracle, he survived, though he no longer has use of his legs. Tatiana says she and his bandmates were “in shock for many years”, and that, “I remember we were all around him, toured with him, just hanging out, and then he’s just like… bam.” But even this incident, which left him in a wheelchair and unable to return to the band, is talked about in the same spirited, fighty way that Tatiana talks about every challenge.

“He seems very positive,” she says. “He’s doing music and he tours around Russia with a band. It’s kind of a hip-hop band, and he plays guitar. He’s still doing tours, so that’s awesome.”

Should you ask Tatiana to describe to you the Ukrainian national character, she’ll tell you that they are “stubborn”, and that as a whole they feel “we have nothing to lose”. She’ll also tell you that, “Ukrainians are very passionate people. Not like Italians [are passionate], for example, or Spanish people. We are passionate with a straight face, you know, not smiling – more like Russians.” When it comes to danger, meanwhile, she says that “we take risks easily”.

Surprisingly, despite the above description matching the impression you get of Tatiana from her story, she doesn’t think of herself as “a typical Ukrainian”. She does, though, nod in confirmation when asked if she sees playing music as a form of resistance. Before any of the bigger events and challenges, this spirited defiance started with becoming a musician at all, at home.

“The first time I resisted something that really prevented me from doing what I love was my parents,” she says. “Mostly my mom, who didn’t want to see me as a musician. In Ukraine, it’s kind of a big thing. If you’re a musician, it’s not respected. From 17 to 23, I was protesting [her], silently. I didn’t, like, yell at her; I didn’t fight with her. I just said, ‘Yeah, yeah,’ and I did my own thing. That’s when it started, and it’s still going this way.”

An example: on Wallflowers, there’s a song, Disclosure, in which Tatiana vents about treatment at the hands of certain media outlets in her homeland. Even being used to internet haters, giving the band shit for everything from daring to escape a warzone, to daring to have a female member, to daring to become successful, the experience left her boiling.

“Earlier this year, in March, me and Eugene went to some studio to do an interview with a Ukrainian guy who is a YouTuber, and he used to work on Ukrainian TV channels,” she says. “So there was a tense atmosphere, and very angry vibrations between us. And he was so manipulative. We had differences in our political views and stuff, and he didn’t want to accept that. So he really wanted to show us in a very bad, bad way. I was pissed off for three days after that, and wrote the song about it.”

As people with a profile, do you think you’re a target for that sort of thing?

“We absolutely are targets for those people, for haters,” Tatiana says. “They hate us for different reasons: for me being a woman, you know. And people think that we pay for [success], like with our money – some of them think that we are hugely rich. My mom is a bookkeeper! My dad worked in coal mining, he was a worker, just working class. But no-one cares. They always find something to blame us for. But at least they don’t do us any harm. Only with words and comments. It’s distant. They’re poison, but it goes nowhere.”

Tatiana Shmayluk is a self-evidently tough woman. She’s also extremely nice. Equally, she’s extremely modest. When she talks about her life’s trials and triumphs, survival and successes, she does so in a manner that almost shrugs these things off, that possibly anyone could do them. Possibly, if pushed by the sight of a war literally kicking off while you have a barbecue, we could. But it’s still surprising that, for someone with more real things to get angry about than most, she describes what she’s putting into Wallflower as simply “my whining and insecurities”.

“Every album, I find something to be angry about,” she says. “It’s pessimistic, but it’s nothing to do with the pandemic. The pandemic gave me some time to just sit and think about, different stuff that I’ve been going through. And we have to agree that the whole world isn’t getting any better – I put myself into this kind of state of mind that, ‘Okay, it’s almost the end of the world.’ Maybe the next album will be more optimistic and more positive. Maybe…”

Pessimism or not, none of it makes her story of prevailing against the things she has any less stirring. Never mind the fact that the band she fronts come from a country most tours don’t even stop at. She’s – rightfully – proud of Jinjer’s success, and the work ethic it’s taken to get them where they are, but she’s almost at pains to share the glory with her bandmates. And in part, it’s this that’s carried Jinjer through all this the most. It’s this, she says, that’s helped her both survive, and to thrive.

“I would never do this myself. I wouldn’t be able to work on so many obstacles just by myself,” Tatiana admits. “And if I had some type of my own personal career, just a single singer, I wouldn’t even start doing that. I really need those guys. And the guys, I hope they need me. That’s just how it works: all together. Even having nothing in our pockets and empty stomachs, we could work.

“It just depends on how big your dream is.”

#tatiana shmaylyuk #jinjer #2021 interviews

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lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos · 3 years ago

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Friday Night

Obispo “ Bishop” Losa and his wife for @itsjustmyfantasyroom because she has had a shitty week 18+ total smut because well i got in my Bishop feels

So there you were laying on the couch with the flower printed cami that you slept in on and some pajama shorts. You didn’t know when he would be home because lately he and spent more nights at the clubhouse than here. So you whistled softly to your Rottweiler puppy Tank and he climbed up on the next couch cushion over from your feet. He was your baby of sorts right now.

Then you heard the sound of his motorcycle approaching and after a few minutes his footsteps moving unevenly up the steps to the front door.

You opened the door and wondered how much he drank tonight .

“ Hey beautiful, might want close the door . Kind of chilly to be just be wearing that tonight.” He put his hands on your hips for a moment..

“ You need a shower Obispo , you stink of cigarettes and whiskey right now.”

“ I also need to fuck your brains out but if a shower gets me there quicker I’ll go get one querida.” That little shit eating grin of his was on his face and his kutte was off to reveal your favorite tank top on him as he went back the hall.

You sighed softly. Yes you loved him enough to share your life with him but sometimes the mans ability to forget all other things in the world but the club could drive you crazy. It was part of the life though. You knew it when you had fallen for him years ago.

You went into the bedroom and found a little perfume that he liked and spritzed some on in strategic places before getting the bed ready and turning on your lavender plug in in the corner outlet. It helped you both sleep when needed .

After a little while you heard his foosteps again and steam and sandalwood wafted out of the slightly open bathroom doorway. Then he walked over to you.a little more steadily on his feet,

“ So I’m all squeaky clean wife do I get to have you before I go to sleep?”

“ I suppose so.” You pulled your cami slowly over your head and then sat down on the bed.

: readmore:

The next thing you knew he was devouring you with his lips and his hands were ,along short work of your pajama shorts and black lace panties. They were tossed of the bed and onto the floor a few minutes later. He stopped to pull a condom out of his bedside drawer and you opened it and placed it on him . When he entered you his eyes darkened . “ You’re wet for me already baby and I haven’t even started yet.”

“ Well my battery operated boyfriend broke yesterday and who knew when you were going to be home at night.”

One of his hands gently smacked your ass. “ What did I say about those toys in this house ?”

“ That if I used one when you weren’t here to get off I would be punished daddy.”

“ “ Good girl you remember.”

He took his left knee and gently moved your legs apart before he entered you .

Slowly at first until you stretched for him. He was so good as a lover.

He thrusted into you for a while until you came multiple times and then you both laid there beside each other on the bed to catch your breath .

“ You do know you’re sex on a stick right husband?” You faced him and kissed his lips.

“ So I’ve heard. Girl talk gets around.”

You gently smacked his ass then. “ You’re all mine el Rey de los Mayans .”

“ Amd you’re the only woman that I ever want to be my damn queen.”

#mayans mc #bishop losa

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m00ns0ng · 4 years ago

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Season’s Cummings

As part of the Citrus Dome Server Collab!!

Check out the other pieces here~

The Prompt:

The local news station hailed it as “the storm of the century,” and they weren’t wrong. You’ve watched the snow pile up beyond the window, building from a light dusting on the grass to literal knee-high drifts. And it shows no sign of stopping.

The place you’re stranded is stocked up on groceries, you’d charged every electronic device to your name, and you’d cranked the thermostat as high as it would go until the inevitable happens —

The power goes out.

So now you’re stuck indoors, with only a certain someone for company. The same someone you’ve been pining after for ages. Snow stacks up higher and higher outside. As the cold seeps in, and you both drift closer, you realize this was somehow the one thing you hadn’t thought to prepare for…

Pairings: Aged-up/Prohero Mineta Minoru/f!Reader

Tags: Uhh, it’s Mineta, senpai/kohai kink, generous amounts of drool, pretty vanilla sex, a little bit of feral sex, two horny gremlins mating, once again this is age-up Mineta

“Erm. Grape Juice-senpai, are you sure we’re prepared enough for this?” You eye the lounging prohero, also noting the growing pile of snow in front of the window behind him. Not only that, wind was howling outside and you could occasionally see the window frosting over. It was a bit frightening.

The Prohero Grape Juice, also known as Mineta Minoru, as well as your boss, waves a hand, looking far too lax for the situation. “Hehe, well. I know we’d be a bit snowed in, didn’t think it’d be so…much though.” He frowned and glanced behind himself, before turning back towards you with a leer. “But hey, if it gets too cold, we can just cuddle up for warmth!” His eyes glazed over and you’re pretty sure you see drool. When one of his hands starts to drift down his chest is when you abruptly turn around to smack your cheeks.

Okay, so sue you. You actually liked your lecherous and amorous-inclined boss. When you shyly admitted to your friends that you imagined fucking this bozo of a Prohero, they laughed at you. And if you were in their place, you’d do the same. But damn it, something about him did it for you. Or maybe you had a case of hero worship. He did save you after all. Though he might not remember it, you very much did. And ever since you joined his agency, you got to see sides of him that most others didn’t. After joining UA, you were told about how amazing Class 1A was, and you always felt so awed by them and their impact.

He wasn’t just a pervert and a flirt, he was also someone that wouldn’t hesitate to save others, like a real hero. And he was short, which was totally your type.

Taking a deep breath, you whirled back around to face your boss. Rather than pleasuring himself like his movements would have made you believe, he was on his phone, most likely checking his feed. You made your way to the snack corner. You had both come to this small town in search of some mid-tier villain that was trying to hit small businesses and then leave the city. Due to the fierce weather however, you and Grape Juice’s main priority was to check in to the surprisingly nice hotel you got to stay in for free. While it was worrying, you figured that the villain wouldn’t be able to go anywhere either. Especially now.

When you thought about the whole situation, the fact that you were both snowed in had to mean something.

This is my chance, you thought, securing your favorite brand of chips and a water bottle. For now, you would calm your hormones a bit and chill. Until the boss said so, you were still on company hours, which meant tracking and making sure you guys wouldn’t fail this mission. It’d be embarrassing and demoralizing to have lost to bad weather conditions. After all, Pro Hero Deku wouldn’t let the horrid, freezing weather stop him (for better or worse). If Grape Juice failed to capture such a mid-tier villain, it would tank his reputation, as well as yours.

You grabbed the remote, turned to the news and grabbed your phone. Not that you expected much from the latter. The wifi in this place could be better, and your data wasn’t faring well either.

“Oh hey, you’re actually doing something useful! See, hehe, this is why you’re my favorite sidekick.” Grape Juice rolled himself to the edge of his bed, looking oddly cute as he tugged his comforter with him to look like a grape burrito. “If you can, put a marker for our log in and-”

“Already done, senpai! Just getting the weather report for now. We’ll need to see if we’ll be able to patrol later on tonight.” This was good. When you guys were interacting like the professional heroes you were instead of friends after work, it became easier to actually look him in the eye without fantasizing about him between your legs. “Though truth be told, I’d rather not haha. It’s…going to be so cold.” You curled in on yourself just at the thought.

“Hmm.” When you looked up, you noticed Grape Juice was staring at you with narrowed, unreadable eyes, but then quickly switched his attention to the news report. Rather than analyze his weirdness, you also chose to focus on the news.

“…And we’re hearing that the snowstorm is going to worsen the more the night drags on. How upsetting for those out looking for some nice snow festivities.” Hmph, not surprising. Thankfully, you guys were staying at a pretty nice hotel, with room service and everything. “No, actually…We’re receiving word that this just may be the storm of the century, folks. With inches of snow piling up by the minutes.”

What? You furrowed your brow and looked out the window just in time to see the last bits of twilight disappear behind snow. “What?!” You leapt up from the bed and went to the window. You swore you could hear the window itself creaking from the amount of snow piled onto it. Which was a horrifying thought, because… because you and Grape Juice were on the third floor. This could not be happening.

“Well,” Grape Juice pushed himself up on his knees. You tried not to notice how he only came up to your collarbone because of that. You couldn’t help but notice all the cute things about him. And Grape Juice outside of his ridiculous hero costume was really, really cute. He had the style, the smug swagger, and the sexual intensity of a horny, touch-starved gremlin. And you would deliver the touch he so desperately wanted. “At least we’re good here! Heh, can’t say the same for that villain though. Probably shaking in their boots. Literally!”

You let his bravado wash over you, slumping your shoulders in relief. “To be real with you, I’m also shaking in my boots. But from the cold! Ya know?” You gave him a nervous smile and skipped back to your bed. “I’m surprised you’re okay with wearing just a t-shirt and shorts right now.”

“It’s because I’m a Pro!” He threw the comforter off of himself and proudly thrust his arms out. “And I’m your boss. What kind of example would I be setting if I was heavily decked out in winter gear?”

“A responsible one..?” You stared at him in confusion, and went back to eating your snacks. “I mean, you’re not like Shouto.” Fuck, he might take that the wrong way. “N-not that I mean any disrespect, senpai!” Grape Juice flinched and then shuddered. And you, you frowned. Had your comment stung that badly? You didn’t really care about the top three Heroes in all honesty. Nothing against them, but nothing from their flashy quirks and intense personalities really appealed to you.

You turned away from him and adjusted the sleeve of your winter sweater. You could hear him falling back onto his bed. Should you apologize? Or just go back to eating your chips and pretending this moment never happened? Ah, screw this.

Your butt met the edge of your bed, and you turned your attention back to the news.

“And that’s not all! We’re hearing that this snowstorm won’t be receding any time soon. How horrifying, haha!” Who on earth laughs at such an abysmal scenario?? You reached around your bed and grabbed your phone. Even though it was fully charged, you couldn’t help but be dismayed at the shitty reception. You huffed, and then turned your ire towards the newscaster. “We hope everyone has been stocking up on resources, because it seems like-” But whatever the newscaster had been going to say was interrupted by the power going out. The loud thrum of the power outage made you pause. And then you jumped up. From somewhere on your left, you heard Grape Juice do the same.

“Ah…well then.” He let out a nervous chuckle, and then a muffled curse.

“Senpai? Are you okay?!” You heard him let out a grunt, and then suddenly he was touching you. Or your arms, more specifically. Your breath hitched, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“Yep! The Prohero Grape Juice can handle the dark.” His hands slipped from your arms to hold onto your hands. “If anything, I should be asking if you’re okay!”

You smiled. “I’m perfectly fine, senpai. But um, what are we going to do now?” His hand clenched down on yours, and you swore you could see something dark cross over his eyes, before he abruptly turned away from you.

“Can’t do it,” You heard him mutter, and your smile fell away.

“Mm? Can’t do what, senpai?” You moved to stand in front of him again, tilting your head this way and that, but you couldn’t catch his eyes. “You know, if there’s a-anything you want from me, just ask! I’ll be happy to provide.” You reached out a hand again to at least provide some physical comfort, but he jumped out of the way before you could.

“Anything, huh?” He finally met your eyes, and you blinked at the sheer intensity in his gaze. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that. Don’t you know that a guy like me enjoys it a bit too much?!”

Silence.

Well, partial silence. You could still hear the wind howling outside. But you were more focused on dissecting what you just heard. He liked it when you called him senpai? This whole time…

You licked your lips. “What if,” There’s no going back now. “What if I also like you, senpai?”

Of all the reactions you were expecting, him glaring wasn’t one of them. “You shouldn’t joke about that kind of stuff. I get it, I’m a lame Pro, but I still have feelings!”

“I do like you like though?” Fuck, you hadn’t meant to phrase it as a question. So you pushed forward. “I mean it! You’re the one I looked up to whenever I would hear about your class! And it’s your agency I wanted to join once I graduated!” By now, you were so close to him that he had no choice but to look at you, and the shadows on his face stood out.

But rather than get angrier, he blinked, and his expression cleared. “Ah, w-wait! This isn’t a prank or anything, right?! Y-you want me?” You stared at your boss. Really stared at him. He didn’t look like a sex-crazy gremlin, or the slightest bit horny. His eyes had lost their light, his lips were curled down, and he was rubbing his arm. He looked like the Minoru Mineta from the first time you met him, not sure if you actually wanted to join his agency. “I know I’m not the best Pro, or the most virtuous, but.” His brows furrowed, and he looked up at you with a renewed vigor. “But I want to make you feel good, if you’ll let me!” He slammed both his palms together and bowed his head, careful to keep his hair from touching you.

Something soft filled you, and you reached out a hand, placing it under his chin and tilting his head up. “You don’t have to be anything other than yourself, senpai.” You smiled brightly. “After all, I chose to work with my cute senpai because I like your work ethic, and your determination. Not everyone wants to be on top!” You let your other hand come up and pet his cheek. “Truth be told, I’ve wanted you for quite some time now, senpai.” His eyes widened, and then watered at an incredible speed. “Aha, wait! Please don’t cry!”

He loudly sniffled. “Man, if I had known that I had a cute little kohai that wanted me from the beginning, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time staring at your fanpages!”

You pulled away to stare down at him. “My what?”

“Anyways!” He practically shouted, “We gonna do this or what?” You smirked and made your way to his bed.

“Well, I’m happy you asked, Mineta-senpai.” You shimmied out of your pants, then panties. You held your panties up and watched the way Mineta’s eyes tracked them as he jumped onto the bed. “Let’s make this a little fun. If I cum before you do, then you can keep my panties. As a souvenir!” His eyes glazed over, and a copious amount of drool began to slide out of his mouth and pool on the sheets between you both. You tried not to be too bothered. You knew he would be at least a bit filthy, and if all went well, the sheets would be ruined one way or another.

Mineta took off his clothes with a speed and ferocity that probably should have stunned you. “Lay down, and let your favorite Prohero Grape Juice take care of you!” You giggled and complied, relaxing your arms and legs as you laid out. You let your panties dangle on the tips of your fingers before you dropped them. Mineta immediately situated himself between your legs, muttering to himself. While he did that, you took your shirt and bra off as well.

You tried your best to keep your breath even, but the moment you felt his touch on your thighs, it hitched. You waited with bated breath for his touch, and when you felt his tongue licking-no, slobbering all over your slit, you squealed. Your legs clamped around his head, but he managed to wriggle his way even closer, tongue circling around your clit before slipping into your opening, and then back again. His tongue was so wet, but once you got past that, you could admit that it also felt good. Relaxing back against the pillows, you spread your legs again and let out a quiet sigh.

Mineta moaned, and the rumble against your clit felt nice enough that you joined him. Soon enough, his fingers joined his tongue, and you panted and squirmed as his fingers-not that long, but definitely thick-thrust in and out of you at a slow, steady pace. “Mm, senpai, you feel so nice.” He leaned forward, his saliva dripping onto your chest, up to your neck, and finally onto your cheeks.

You were sharing each other’s breath now.

“Haaa, that’s what I should be saying.” His pace quickened, and your pleasure grew. “My cute little kohai is clenching down on my fingers. Clenching down on me.” You panted out as his fingers curled and scissored inside of you. “Ahh, I can’t wait anymore!” He pulled his fingers out of you quickly and you didn’t even get a chance to react before his dick was slipping in. “Forget the stupid bet!” His hands kept a brutal grip on your hips, keeping you in place. Mostly. The power of his thrusts had you slipping up the bed, and you were very grateful the pillows were there.

“O-oh!” Your hands clenched into the bedsheets as he hammered into you. His pace didn’t slow down, and he didn’t relent in his intensity. One of his hands left your hips to slip into your mouth.

“Suck,” He groaned out, and then whined when you obeyed. “Such a good little kohai I have. You’d do anything for your senpai, huh?” He pushed down on your tongue. Even in the dark, you could see his eyes holding lust and a deep admiration. “You, you like me for me. A-and you don’t care about my reputation.” You closed your eyes and bobbed your head on his fingers. He let out another groan, slipping his fingers out of your mouth to rub them on your clit. You arched up and let out an embarrassingly loud moan. You really hoped no one heard that.

“Are you close, baby? Gonna cum for your favorite Pro? Gonna let me k-keep y-” Mineta curled over you, shoving his face into your chest. “Dammit, how am I supposed to last long when your pussy is clenching down on me like this?!” His pace slowed, his hips jerking at a tell-tale uneven pace. You giggled and leaned down to kiss him. His tongue was in your mouth instantly, running over your teeth, curling around your tongue, and then thrusting in and out. It was sloppy, and with his fingers still on your clit, with him still pressing into you, it was also fucking hot.

You were going to cum, and you didn’t even care. The panties were just an incentive anyways. You got to fuck your senpai, and make him happy. A win-win for the both of you.

You broke away from the kiss, just barely aware of the string of drool that connected your mouths. “Mineta-senpai, I’m going to-”

“Cum?!” His excitement was cute enough that you didn’t mind that he cut you off. You met his thrusts as best as you could rolling your hips so he could fuck that particular spot inside of you that made you toes curl and eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Yes, yes yes yes yes yes!” For a long moment, you felt perfect. The burst of pleasure that rocked your whole body and left you boneless as your senpai kept fucking you, whimpering as he sucked on your tit. Not even your nipple, your tit. You inhaled as he released your hips to wrap his arms around you, and it was only due to his small size that you didn’t mind. Your head fell back, eyesight a bit wonky from the intensity of the orgasm that just rocked through you. Mineta, apparently not yet satisfied, continued thrusting into you, stupidly powerful thrusts making you clench and squeal. “Mineta-senpai, you’re…the best.”

“Hehe, yeah. I’m the best. I AM THE BEST!” His hands gripped your hips with a newfound ferocity and he flipped you over partially, leaving you confused and a bit dazed in the dark. One of his hands left your hips to grab his dick, and he aimed it right for your fluttering opening.

“S-senpai, wait,” Your weak cry fell on deaf ears.

“Plus,” The manic drive of a Hero pushed him forward. “ULTRA!!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So!” The receptionist gave you a bright smile, “Did you both enjoy your stay at Reaching Heights Hotel?”

You let your (grumpy) silence speak for itself, while Grape Juice sheepishly handed her his card. “It, haha, definitely helped me regain my drive!” The receptionist blinked at him, and then gave him a placid smile that only a front desk attendant could. And his card back. “Soooo thankyounowwehavetogobyeandsorryforthestains!”

You eyed Grape Juice as he turned to scurry away, and kicked your foot out, tripping him. Immediately taking advantage of his disoriented state, you snatched his card up and smirked down at him. You’re not quite sure how you look in that moment, but you are sure you liked that wide-eyed, vulnerable expression on his face.

“Next time,” You murmur, “I get to be the one on top, squeezing every last drop out of you, senpai.”

#Mineta Minoru x Reader #reader smut #citrus dome collab #whew boy #this is #yeah #bnha x reader

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cheyningdiamond · 3 years ago

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Nightmarish Trip

TW// Drugs, Angst, Suggestive Mentions, Death, Alcohol Pls do not read if you're easily upset over things like this. Viewer discretion is advised.

It was a hot night out in Nevada. In the bunker, Dallas remained to himself while Roxxie and the rest of the crew were out gathering supplies. The gang knew Dallas wasn’t feeling so well and ushered him to stay put and rest. Dallas however wasn’t pleased with this outcome. He oh so desperately hated being alone… With a heart aching sigh, Dallas decided to sit up and reach under his bed. He pulled out a familiar glass object. Staring down at the pipe, Dallas pulls out a lighter. It probably wasn’t the best thing for him to do, but hey, whatever it took for him to feel less shitty, right? With a few puffs, Dallas set it down on the nightstand next to him and laid back. The demon’s eyelids grew slightly heavy as he watched the world around him spin and change. He felt a bit sick to his stomach. Probably should’ve checked what he was smoking first… He reached his hand up to try and touch the swirling objects around him. They grew bright in color and Dallas’ hand plummeted down to his side as his eyes closed. When he woke up, he was sitting outside. Things seemed strange though. The area he was in… This wasn’t Nevada. The sidewalk he sat on was paved with a reddish-gray color and the skies were more orange-red then they were a deep, dark red. That’s when Dallas realized something. This wasn’t Nevada. This was Hell. He looked down at his feet, seeing the puddle underneath them. It rippled, showing himself in a normal red flannel shirt and jeans. The golden hoop clip-on rings on his horns shimmered in the Hellish lighting. “I-I haven’t seen this shitty outfit in forever…” He mumbled. The puddle rippled more and slowly, he saw two figures behind him. Defensively, Dallas reeled around, only to find a demon with long pink hair and a pink dress, and another demon with black hair and only black jeans. The incubus blinked a few times, staring. “R-Rocks? Diesel??” The pink haired demon smiled and walked closer, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Hey, don’t sweat it. You got us, yeah?” The muscular one spoke up. “Yeah! Forget what that asshole told you. Honestly, You deserve way better than him…” “Him?” He gently took Roxxie’s hand off his shoulder. “Okay, who the fuck is him?? What are you two talking about?” Just then, Dallas was suddenly reeled back by his arms and forced against the wall, shutting his eyes from the impact.. When he opened his eyes, they grew almost as big as tennis balls at the figure before him. The man had a snake-like tail and a devilish grin. He wore a stained white tank top and ripped jeans and held a bottle of alcohol in his hand. “S...Stripes…” Dallas shook his head. No, no no no, he needed out of here. Now! Dallas tried to run, but was grabbed and pulled back. “Augh- fuck! Let go, jackass!” He kicked at him, growling loudly. “Babe…” He spoke calmly, making Dallas shut his eyes tightly. He knew what he was gonna say next. “Fuck, don’t say it. Don’t say it…” He whispered. His blood boiled for just remembering this moment. “I think maybe we should split. You just aren't what I need in my life. I need a better ma…"

Dallas went to turn and slap him, but when he did, he saw Stripes lying on the floor. A chunk of his neck was ripped off and Dallas tasted copper in his mouth and felt a hot liquid dripping down his chin. He looked down at his bloodied lips and his eyes widened as parts of his ex’s flesh were in his mouth. Dallas spat it out, wiping his lips. He felt his body seething with rage, but he couldn’t force himself to attack anymore. Dallas heard sirens similar to screams outside of the house. Everything became hazy and changed around him once more. He came to, staring at his hands. They were handcuffed together and he saw that he was in an orange jumpsuit. He heard talk all around him and looked around. He was in a filled courtroom and he noticed Roxxie and Diesel in handcuffs as well. The bangs of the gavel ringed his ears and made him flinch. “Order! Order!!” Dallas looked up at the judge. Sitting in the witness stand next to the judge was the bitten and beaten corpse of Stripe. He just stood there, staring at Dallas. “Dallas Haze…” The judge’s voice made Dallas glance up at them fearfully. “You have created some terrible crimes, but none can overcome this… Murdering a man of our satanic forces here in Styx City.” “D-Demons can’t die, jackass… He should’ve came back by now! I was framed for him goin' missin'!!” “He had been missing for months now… Who knows what you did with his corpse, you sick bastard…” “I didn’t do shit-!” “ENOUGH!” Dallas flinched as a high-piercing sound rang in the incubus’ ears. “As punishment for your sinful acts, we, the court, have found that even Hell isn’t a fitting punishment… You and your little friend group here will be shot and sent to purgatory, where you will NEVER reunite again!” He slammed his gavel and Roxxie and Diesel panicked. “Dallas!” Roxxie screamed out, trying to run. She was grabbed by the guards and was dragged back. Diesel roared and kicked, hissing and struggling as the guards had mercilessly beaten him until he was unconscious to drag back. “Diesel! Roxxie!” He ran to try and help them, but was jumped and pinned down by the other guards. With a swift, hard punch to the face, Dallas woke up in the interrogation room. Before him was a woman with candy red skin and had a bow on her head. It was Halt… But- how? She was always stuck in the same body as Sloh and Goh… She looked at him with a saddened look on her face. “Dallas… At least tell us where the body is... “ “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! I left his ass at the house!” She shook her head. “You know that ain’t true…” “I’m not lying, dammit!” Dallas barked. “Someone else got him ‘cuz it isn’t me!” Halt’s voice echoed within the cold, dark walls. “We gave you a chance, Dallas… You ruined everything for yourself.” The lightbulb above them blew out and Dallas’ vision returned with him being forced onto the ground with his hands tied to his back. He turned around to see the face of a familiar green demon staring down at him with a shotgun pointed at him. “G-Goh!?” He struggled, trying to break free. His body then suddenly froze as he stared up at the barrel of the weapon. With a roar and distorted voice, Goh snarls. “You dug your grave…” He cocked his gun.

“N O W L A Y I N I T …!!!” With a loud shot being fired, Dallas felt something heavy hit his face. With free hands, he brushed away what had been dirt. He frantically looked around and saw that he was in a deep, open grave. “Wh… Wha- Augh-!” Trying to stand, he was thrown back down by another pile of heavy dirt. He looked up and saw Sloh staring down at him coldly with a dirt-covered shovel in their hands. It was raining and storming now… “Sloh-!” He coughed up dirt that had fallen into his mouth. “No- Nonono this can’t be it…! No-!” He moved the dirt aside and tried to crawl up, scratching at the walls around him to try and escape. “Sloh, don’t…! I don’t deserve this…! I didn’t do anything…!” Sloh looked down at him. One singular yellow eye glowed in the night as a crack of lightning flashed behind them, showing the shadows of the figure’s body. With a cold and monotone voice, they spoke. “This is your fate, Dallas… You were a dead man from the start… You…” They pointed beside his grave, staring at the two other graves he had already buried. “And your friends…” Dallas’ eyes widened at that statement. Tears streamed down his face in horror. He wanted to scream, but he had no words. He stared in shock and his dirty body shook. His body was so cold... He felt so sick… Sloh had no remorse as they shoveled more and more dirt onto him as he screamed and pleaded and desperately tried to crawl out. The dirt covered his view and he was in total darkness. He felt his heart drop and heard it beating slower and slower. Finally, the beating stopped and there was total silence…

At the end of a dark tunnel, a light showed. Dallas’ feet felt like he was walking through wet concrete. He slowly walked towards the light and he could see that the bright white light engulfed his vision. Before him, he saw a familiar figure in a white lab coat standing facing away in the distance. Dallas felt all his stress slowly fade as Jeb stood there, staring off into the distance. “H-Holy shit… J-Jeb…!” He rushed after him, reaching a hand out. “Jeb- I don’t know what’s going on… We need to get the fuck out of here!”

The demon exclaimed, getting about a few feet closer before realizing something was wrong. “Jeb? Jebediah, come on! Christoff!” Jeb’s back suddenly arched all the way back with a sickening cracking noise. His usual red eyes dripping a black substance, as was his nose and mouth. Slowly, the skin on his face melted off, revealing a red skeleton. Just like he had found him ages ago during the war. “Sh-Shit…!!” Dallas backed away, terrified. “Goddammit, get me out of here…!!” He screamed, running away from the mangled figure. His heart raced as black fire spurted out of Jeb’s mouth. Dallas ran as shadows began filling the room he was in. He hit a wall and started to pound his fists against it. “Let me out…!” They got closer.

“Let me out…!”

And closer...

“LET ME OU-…!!!” Dallas’ scream was cut off as the shadows engulfed his entire body, leaving him in darkness once again. … ... ... With a familiar voice, and deep chuckle, dread filled his mind. “͔͇͚́Y͎̘̺͇̙o͈͙̘̞u͍̮̝̪’̸̞͔͍ṛ̨̱̟̪e̡̝̩ ͎͉̩̟̯̗̗ ̵̪͎̳̗ ͏N̴̺̻̗̭̼̬̬O͖̳̫̥̹̻̮T̲͔H̦I̴̯̳̠̮̼̺N҉̭̩͓̬G̹͖̬̝̝ ̹̜̹̟͖ ͉̤̕ ̖t̼o̷̘͙ ̛m̷̜̯̘e̠̪͍̤, ̩͕̜̘͎̫D͖̱̞̥a̡̬̪ḽ̛̬̘̱̮ͅl͎̼͙̖͔͇a̱̳̠̼̺̹̙͞s̀…̩͇̹̙̫̮͜”̨̯̬͉ͅͅ Dallas shot up with a gasp. Clutching his chest, he felt his heart nearly beat out of it. He looked around frantically with a throbbing headache. He was inside of his bedroom, half dressed with only black pajama bottoms on. He panted and shut his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He slowly glanced at the glass bong on his nightstand. A loud shattering sound was heard a few seconds later as the bong made contact with the wall near the door, breaking it instantly with the sheer force of the throw. He breathed heavily, staring down at the broken glass with anger. His hands shaking at the sight as he tried to process what had just happened… He closed his eyes and felt tears slowly running down his face. His head and body throbbed with pain and stress. Dallas pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his knees. Dallas wasn’t much of a prayer, but God. He prayed that Roxxie and the gang were safe out there in the hellish lands of Nevada.

#my fics #angst #tw drugs #dallas #diesel #roxxie #auditor #sloh #goh #halt #jebediah christoff #madness combat #i have been making nothing but sadness and i am sorrry-

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years ago

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The Wedding Date (Part 3)

Summary: When the reader is in desperate need of a date to her sister’s wedding, she calls a service to fulfill the need and ends up meeting Dean Winchester…

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Word Count: 5,400ish

Warnings: language, family angst/drama, fluff

A/N: Enjoy the final part!...

_______

You woke up to Dean stretching in bed, his arms raised up overhead before he tucked them back in his chest and burrowed down in the blankets. He smiled at you and you rubbed your eyes, closing them again.

“Sleep good?” he asked.

“Yeah. I don’t really want to face the world just yet,” you said.

“When’s the rest of the family get here?”

“Tomorrow people will start trickling in. I was supposed to have some girl’s day thing with my two sisters. I’d sort of rather jump in a vat of lava right now.”

“We can still go home if you want to,” he said.

“It’s still my sister’s wedding. I can’t ruin it,” you said.

“Okay. Then let’s kick today in the ass and see if we can make it better than yesterday was,” he said. “We can make fun of your brothers at breakfast if you want.”

“Oh that does sound fun,” you laughed. Dean reached a hand up and ran it over your head. “Still hurt?”

“My hand? I told you I’m fine,” he said. “Just a little scratch.”

“I know you were scared last night,” you said. He stopped moving his hand and you turned your head. “I was scared.”

“Yeah it was scary,” he said quietly. “But I’m okay. I’m gonna shower quick before we get something to eat.”

“Okay. I’m gonna get dressed,” you said. Dean smiled and rolled out of bed, popping into the bathroom. You watched the door shut and sat up, running your hands over your face.

At least you could try to face the day. Maybe if Dean was there today wouldn’t be as horrible as you imagined it’d be.

After a minute you got up and went to your bag, throwing on a pair of ripped jean shorts and a band tank top you normally wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in front of your family. You put your hair up in a bun as Dean walked out in his towel.

“I’m all set in the bathroom,” he said, standing in front of his bag, pulling out a few things. “Is today more casual?”

“Today I stop trying to impress my family,” you said.

“That’s my girl,” he said, giving you a big smile. “You still planning on going out with your sisters?”

“Yeah. I said some things last night to them both. I think facing just the two of them at once will be better than my whole family,” you said. “My brothers were going on some hike to get drunk with the guys. You were invited to go along on that.”

“I think I will,” he said.

“Don’t murder them please.”

“I won’t. But I can’t guarantee I keep my mouth shut and play nice the whole time. It doesn’t matter if you’re their half sister. Treating you like an outcast for a mistake your mom made was completely wrong. There’s a line between teasing older brother and being mean and they crossed it.”

“...I know. Go easy on Jason. He’s the only one that was willing to tell the truth. He’s the one that dragged me inside last night and came to check on me,” you said. “I’ll uh, be ready to go in a minute.”

“Take your time.”

You slipped into the bathroom to finish getting ready, exiting a few minutes later to see Dean in a short sleeve henley and a pair of black shorts, a baseball hat on his head. You were both quiet as you headed down stairs, Dean taking leaning back against the elevator wall as you rode it down.

“We going to talk about last night?” he asked.

“I thought we already did.”

“I mean the me kissing you thing.”

“What’s to talk about?” you asked. He straightened up and you watched the doors open. He moved to leave but you grabbed his hand. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. If something happens, it happens.”

“Alright,” he said. He had a big smirk on his face before he kissed you, humming as he pulled you after him out to the hall. “So where’s breakfast?”

“Dining...room,” you said, shaking your head at him.

“Take your breath away?” he teased.

“Oh, don’t get cocky, Winchester,” you said, slapping his shoulder. He hummed, chuckling when he caught the smile on your face. It was wiped away though when you walked into the dining area and you saw a few family members sitting at a table off to the side. You swallowed and went to the opposite side of the restaurant, your dad coming over after you’d ordered.

“Morning, sweetie,” he said. “Dean.”

“Mr. Y/L/N,” said Dean.

“How’re you doing?” he asked you.

“I’m just dandy,” you said.

“Your sister doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. If you don’t want to be part of the wedding anymore, she says that’s okay. She won’t make you stay if you don’t want to,” he said.

“I guess now that the cats out of the bag, no need to even pretend anymore, right? That’s fine. If she doesn’t want me here, if any of you don’t, then I’m gone. But I’m staying gone,” you said.

“Y/N she doesn’t want you gone,” he said. “No one does.”

“Yes they do. You know they were mean to me as a kid. You didn’t care. I don’t blame you. I’m not even yours,” you said as you stood up. “Dean, I think maybe we should get breakfast on the road home. Tell people whatever you want, dad. Obviously this is already a thing and it’s Lauren’s wedding. Let her have what she wants.”

You brushed past him, not even waiting for Dean. A moment later you were back in your room and finishing up with your bags, Dean slipping inside with a cautious look.

“What.”

“I think you need to decide if you want to cut off your family for good or not because the vibe I was getting in that room, if you leave this wedding, they won’t forget that and you’ll never be close to them again. It might be there but it’ll always be in the back of their minds that you doubt them and the back of yours that they don’t want you.”

“What does that mean?” you sighed.

“It means maybe the assholes love you. My father can be a bastard, king of the assholes. His heart attack and life choices are the reason I’m standing here in this room. I’ve spent a lot of time angry at him for that. But I love him and he loves me. I think for the first time they know that they hurt you all these years. Giving them a chance is up to you but this morning in bed, you sounded like you were willing to give them that. So give it to them.”

“...how’d you forgive him?” you asked.

“He didn’t ask to almost die. I remember how scared I was that night. Last night your family tried to protect you from what they thought was danger. Somewhere under the snide comments, there’s the real deal,” he said.

“I’ll give them a chance,” you said. “Come on. Let’s go see if our breakfast is still there.”

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” asked Dean as you saw your sisters in the lobby after your meal, the two of them staring at you.

“It’s a girls day. I’ll be okay. If I’m not, I’ll text you that I want to get the hell out of here,” you said.

“Okay. You’ll be alright,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before you headed over to them. You swallowed, Lauren and Aria sharing a look.

“Is there a problem?” you asked.

“No,” said Lauren quickly.

“We were thinking of ditching the girls day thing,” she said.

“Oh,” you said, crossing your arms and kicking at the ground.

“If you still want to we totally can,” said Lauren. “Whatever you want, Y/N. Promise.”

You stared at her, watching her force a smile on her face.

“If you want me to go home, just tell me,” you said. She was already shaking her head, giving Aria a quick look that made your oldest sister sigh.

“Let’s just go to the pool and get drunk,” she said. She grabbed both of your hands and started pulling you along, Dean giving you a small wave as you left. She released you when you followed Lauren and stuck your feet in the pool, Aria leaving for a moment and coming back with three very fruity looking drinks.

You sipped at yours, watching Lauren nearly knock the whole thing back. You raised an eyebrow as Aria sat on your other side.

“What is this?” you asked.

“I’m sorry,” said Lauren. You turned your head and she was already crying. “I didn’t know I did that to you. I didn’t…”

“Lauren had an eating disorder too,” said Aria quietly. “We talked last night. It was around the time she had hers that we think you got yours.”

“I just thought...no one would notice I wasn’t eating if I wasn’t the only one so I said shitty stuff and then you wouldn’t do it too and mom and dad never said anything,” she said, her shoulders tarting to shake. “I’m sorry. I know how horrible it is. I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t-”

“Lauren,” you said. “Calm down.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her face off and keeping her head low. You stared across the pool, Aria leaning back.

“I’m sorry too,” said Aria after a beat. “I’m sorry I ruined relationships for you and I’m sorry that you felt like you had to hire a guy for a stupid wedding. No offense, Laur.”

“S’fine,” she mumbled.

“Why were you always so mean to me?” you asked quietly.

“You know how last night we said there was an incident when you were little,” said Aria.

“Mom and dad said not to talk about it,” said Lauren.

“Talk about what?” you asked.

“When you were three, the rest of us...we were all 10 to 18 years old. Things had been a little funny since mom was pregnant with you. She and dad seemed off but we never talked about it. You guys were out of town. Mom and dad took you to disney, remember?”

“Kinda. Did something happen there?” you asked.

“It happened at home,” said Lauren, glancing over to Aria.

“A man broke in the house looking for you. Jason and I tried to get him out but he hit Jason and then me. Lauren and Brent made it upstairs but he found them. He had us all sit down in the living room and wanted to know where you were. Jason didn’t want to tell him. Something was wrong with the guy. But he said some things, this guy did, about what he’d do to us. Jason said no again and-”

“He got the shit beat out of him, right in front of us,” said Lauren.

“I told him where you were,” said Aria. “He left after that. Jason was in the hospital a few days. I figured you were safe with mom and dad all the way down there with all those people. Jason was the biggest and toughest out of all of us. If he didn’t stand a chance against the guy, none of us did. So we got scared and we’d been threatened and Jason nearly died, all because of you. It’s not why it happened but we were stupid kids. We’ve always thought he might come back someday.”

“I get it now,” you said quietly.

“Doesn’t make it right,” said Aria. “I was sixteen. You were three. I threw you under the bus and we all talked shit about how that wouldn’t have happened to us if it weren’t for you. When mom and dad told us the truth about that guy being your dad, it was fuel on the fire.”

“You were still kids,” you said, kicking your feet in the water some. “He ever come back?”

“We don’t know. We all had some weird stuff happen to us but we can’t be sure,” said Aria.

“You’re quiet,” you said to Lauren.

“I don’t like to think about that night,” she said. “Jason was in bad shape.”

“He was trying to protect her, Lauren,” said Aria. “He’s the only one that ever has. We’re just assholes. He’s always been the one stuck in between.”

“This guy hurt you too?” you asked. Aria shrugged and you sat back.

“It sorta felt like that time I got hit in the face with a volleyball during a game. It was a long time ago. Like I said, it doesn’t matter. We just...we fucked up, Y/N. It was never your fault. The longer it went on, the easier it got to be that way,” said Aria.

“Do you guys hate me?” you asked.

“No. I hate how I’ve acted but not you. We bullied our kid sister because we were scared. It’s never been because we hate you,” she said. You turned towards Lauren, her head still hanging low.

“I don’t know when I got it in my head that everything that went wrong was your fault but that’s what happened. Last night...I guess I realized what a horrible human being I am,” she said. “I mean you freaking hired a guy to be your date and I made that stupid mean teasing comment and I knew it’d piss you off and-”

“Lauren,” said Aria. “Babbling again.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t hate you, Y/N. I really do want you to be one of my bridesmaids. I do.”

“S’not alright,” you said, turning your head, looking at them both. “But I’m willing to give you guys a second chance. I’d like to have sisters for once.”

“We don’t deserve a chance,” said Lauren.

“Hey. I’m the self-depreciator, not you,” you said, bumping her shoulder. “I’m sorry that stuff happened. I’m not going to be over it all in one day or one week but you guys are my sisters, even if it’s only half.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Sounds good,” said Aria, finishing off her drink. “Is that Dean guy sticking around?”

“He’s cute,” said Lauren. “And super into you.”

“I think he has a crush,” said Aria.

“It’s gotten complicated,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. “Obviously I hired him to pretend but yesterday we spent the day talking a lot and then last night we got drunk and he kissed me but he did it again this morning so I don’t know. He’s kinda the one that encouraged me to try and make up with you guys.”

“Well he’s head over heels so I wouldn’t worry about him running off,” said Aria.

“His butt is cute too,” said Lauren. Aria reached around you and whacked her.

“I mean, she’s not wrong. I saw him in just a towel this morning,” you said.

“Lucky you,” said Aria with a smirk. “You see him without the towel too?”

“No! I am so not ready for that. We’re just...going slow with whatever this even is. It’s so weird,” you said.

“Oh, it’s not that weird, right, Lauren?” teased Aria. Lauren’s face started to blush and you raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell Y/N how you and Calvin really met, hm?”

“I take it that it wasn’t at that fundraiser?” you asked.

“He worked at a strip club,” she said. You stared at her, a smile growing on your face. “Oh my God. I don’t like, go to those places. It was for a bachorelette party and he was the guy and there was a definite vibe between us but he steered clear and I steered clear and I had to pay him when he was leaving and I needed a date for that stupid gala mom and dad hosted and I blurted it out and paid him and then after that he made fun of me for doing that but like in a nice way and we went on a real date and I found out he was doing that to pay off his student loan for med school and-”

“You really do ramble a lot,” you said.

“I know!” said Aria, a big laugh coming from her. “So I guess you’re not the only one to meet someone unconventionally.”

“It’s been a day, let’s slow it down,” you said.

“Think he’s going to get along with the boys today?” asked Lauren.

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Hey,” you said, spotting Dean come back to the room around dinnertime. He gave you a smile and kicked off his sneakers.

“Hey. You look like today went better,” he said.

“It did. I found out some things now that things aren’t so heated. It’s gonna take time but I think you were right. They didn’t hate me,” you said.

“Good. I got that feeling from your brothers today. They seemed pretty worried, Jason especially,” he said.

“I need to talk to him,” you said.

“I need a shower anyways. I’ll meet you downstairs for dinner when I’m done?” he asked.

“Sounds good. I think steak is on the menu tonight. I asked the guys in the kitchen if they could make a pie for dessert too,” you said.

“I can get behind that,” he said. “I’ll see you in a few.”

You slipped out of the room and outside, finding Jason in one of the dining table chairs drinking a beer.

“Hi,” you said. He spun around in his seat and gave you a smile. “Can I join you?”

“Sure. I was going to have dinner out here with the girls. Maddie doesn’t want to wear her dress,” he said.

“She’s four. Let her wear what she wants,” you said.

“I know,” he said as you sat down next to him. “Dean seems like a good guy. He seemed pretty adamant that he’s your friend, maybe boyfriend. He’s not sure yet about that.”

“He go easy on you today?” you asked.

“He was pretty quiet this morning but he eased up some. He was angry with us at first,” he said.

“I talked to Aria and Lauren today, found out some stuff,” you said. He sighed and offered you his beer, letting you take a long drink before you handed it back. “Are you okay?”

“It was a long time ago, Y/N. I’m fine,” he said.

“Why didn’t you just tell the guy what he wanted to know?” you said.

“Because I didn’t know anything. We didn’t know what was going on. When some crazy guy breaks in your house demanding to know where your 3 year old kid sister is, you think a lot of bad shit. He said a lot of bad shit. There wasn’t really a decision, Y/N, not to me.”

“They said it was real bad.”

“Y/N-”

“No more lies. Tell me the truth.”

“I was in the ICU for two days and then a normal room for four more,” he said. “Yeah, the guy probably would have killed me if Ari didn’t say anything.”

“Why didn’t you say anything you dumbass?”

“Because I’m the big brother, dumbass,” he said, giving you a hard look. “He would have hurt you. My baby sister. I was living it and feeling it. There was no way I ever was going to say hey, this is too much for me, why don’t you go take it out on her. No, Y/N, that wasn’t going to happen. Period. Aria did what she had to and looked out for the rest of them when I couldn’t.”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Last night...I thought he was back. I knew Nancy would get the girls but you were just...walking straight out there for your damn boyfriend and all I could think was no way in Hell was he getting ahold of you after all these years.”

“Where is he?” you asked. “Shouldn’t he have gotten in trouble?”

“He did. He got twenty five years. He was let out about five ago for good behavior. We all have had odd things happen. We knew he was back. Why do you think dad likes that you live in a little middle of nowhere town with no job, no bills, no nothing to tie you there? It’s safe,” he said.

“Safe would have been telling me the truth,” you said.

“Yeah. I know,” he said. He was quiet as you tucked your feet up onto the chair. He rested his head on your shoulder and looked up at you. “Forgive me for being the worst older brother ever?”

“You are not the worst older brother ever, Jason. You tried to protect me. Even when you were scared. I forgive you if it makes you feel better but honestly, I just want to have real siblings again,” you said.

“I think we’d like that too,” he said. “Would you be willing to have dinner with us tonight?”

“Yeah, I think that could be arranged.”

“We’re heading up,” said Brent late that night, Peter pulling him back towards the resort. “Night.”

“Night guys,” you said. You and Dean looked at one another, your parents still quiet on the other side of the fire pit like they’d been all night. “You guys going to talk to me ever again or what?”

“This morning didn’t go so well. We thought you might want your space,” said your dad.

“What I want is to be part of this family. I know the truth now and guess what, the world didn’t end. So what if mom cheated? That is a problem for the two of you to work out and since it’s been years, I’m guessing you did. What I want to know is if I’m still in danger,” you said.

“There’s always a chance,” said your mom. “I didn’t realize how crazy this man was when we had our very brief affair.”

“Did you tell him you were pregnant?” asked Dean.

“No. I was keeping my family together.”

“Did it never cross your mind that maybe he was angry you hid the fact he had a daughter and he never knew? That he never got to see her? He had a right to see her back then,” said Dean.

“Oh,” said Dan to himself on your other side. “Oh, that makes sense now.”

“What does?” asked your mom.

“He thought you stole her. He said a bunch of stuff that night. We thought he was nuts. But he said stuff about you giving her away, hiding her from the world, getting rid of her. He thought you’d made her disappear. It’s why he was so angry and snapped at Jason. He thought we all were a part of it,” said Dan.

“He nearly killed your brother,” said your dad.

“You guys weren’t there,” said Jason. “It actually makes a lot of sense now. I have two little girls and if someone hurt my kids, yeah, I’d lose it and go beat the shit out of someone too.”

“He’s violent and dangerous,” said your mom.

“He’s also my birth father,” you said. “I think Dean and I had a long day and we’re going to go up too.”

“Night,” said your brothers. You sighed as you walked back up the path with Dean, his arm going around you before he kissed the top of your head.

“Your family is bat-shit crazy you do realize, right?” he teased.

“Yeah, I do,” you said. “I kinda like ‘em though. Do you want to get some food for the room and watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah, I’d like that, sweetheart,” he said.

You wrapped your arm around his waist as you walked inside, the two of you heading back into the kitchen. One of the workers was back there, working on some kind of dessert from the looks of it.

“Hi, can we order something up to our room?” you asked. He glanced over his shoulder and stared at you, a long look before he turned away.

“Of course, Ms. Y/L/N. What would you like?” he asked, returning to the batter he was working on.

“Are those gonna be brownies cause that looks good,” said Dean.

“Two ice cream brownie sundaes?” you asked. “And some cheese fries?”

“Sure. I’ll have that ready in about forty minutes,” he said.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” asked Dean. “We can take a bottle of something up to our room, right?”

“Of course. We’ll put it on the room’s tab,” he said, keeping his back to you both.

“Buddy, you might be fooling these people but not me,” said Dean. “I saw an older picture of you today from one of her brothers. I was told to keep an eye out. Different hair and color and the beard is a good touch but I can tell the difference.”

He stopped stirring the batter and looked at you both, staring at you.

“I never meant to hurt the boy,” he said, shutting his eyes. “I thought he knew what they’d done with her. They made it sound like they’d gotten rid of her.”

“What is going on?” you asked.

“Y/N,” said Dean, waving his hand. “This man is your biological father.”

“You nearly killed my brother,” you said.

“I know,” he said. “All I have ever wanted was for my daughter to be safe. I thought they’d hurt you or dumped you somewhere and never told me. You were my daughter. So I got angry and made a mistake. I paid for it. Maybe I snuck into your siblings homes a few times and looked through a few papers to get your address but that’s all. I wanted to see you. Eventually I did. I saw you in that cafe you go to sometimes on the main street. I was going to leave you alone. I was never going to bother anyone again. I didn’t want to ruin your life. I just wanted to see you every so often. It’s why I got a job at one of the resorts. I thought, maybe I could have a few seconds here or there and you’d never know.”

“Dean, what do you think?” you asked.

“I think your father had a lapse in judgement years ago and he served his time for it. Ultimately, I think it’s going to be your brother’s call but I do know that last night he was the guy that came outside to help me,” said Dean. “I think if he wanted to do something, he would have.”

“You terrified my siblings,” you said.

“I know,” he said. “I can disappear if you want.”

“...They’re still afraid of you. I think it’s time they stopped being that,” you said. “You and I, we can work on us. Slowly. But I will give you a chance.”

“I don’t want to upset anything with your family,” he said.

“A little late for that considering this week so far,” said Dean.

“What he means is, if you want to be part of my life, we can do that, no matter what they say,” you said. “They made mistakes too.”

“Thank you,” he said. “You grew up beautifully. I think that’s your mother’s genes.”

“I can see some of you in her,” said Dean with a friendly smile. “Y/N, do you want to save this for the morning or now?”

“I think he’s waited long enough,” you said. “Come on. Let’s go figure this out.”

“Sweetheart,” hummed Dean the next afternoon from where he lay beside you on the diving dock out on the lake. “I may or may not be seeing things but I think Jason just gave your birth dad a smile over there.”

“Everyone in this family could have avoided so much if they just talked and got things out in the open,” you said, closing your eyes behind your sunglasses.

“Agreed,” he said, propping himself up, a shadow falling over your face. Your eyes flickered open as your shades were taken off of you, Dean tilting his head at you. “You know, we have this clause in our contracts for the company I work for. If you have feelings, you’re supposed to decline any job offer. I sorta broke that one immediately. I went after you at the cafe cause I liked you, Y/N and I didn’t want you to go yet. It sort of hit me out of nowhere.”

“What are you saying?” you asked.

“I’m saying maybe I should do what your insane family never has and tell the truth. I really like you and I’m returning the money you paid me. We don’t have a contract anymore. I’m only here because my friend asked me to be her date to her sister’s wedding. It’s that simple now,” he said.

“I’m not taking the money back,” you said. “I am perfectly happy with the date though.”

“Y/N.”

“Dean.”

“It’s a lot of money and I’m not a charity case,” he said.

“I know you like working on cars. Why don’t we call it a business investment and I will match what I gave you to a local charity that teaches kids technical skills after school to prepare them for the job market,” you said.

“Oh, that’s sneaky.”

“You hate the business stuff and business stuff is in my blood. It could be fun. Local small business signed up with a charity could really boost your revenue...maybe get you enough money to go to a Yankees game or two,” you said.

“Is this a take it or leave it deal?”

“No,” you said. “Just want to help my new boyfriend and maybe some kids.”

“...Fine,” he groaned, laying on top of you. You giggled and he rolled over, kissing you slowly. “Excited to have dinner with your dad tonight?”

“Yeah. Nervous. I know they’ll never all completely get along but no one was perfect in that situation. You’re coming with me, right?” you asked.

“Of course. Not leaving you alone just yet,” he said, wincing at his hand before he sat upright. You followed him up, taking his bruised hand and giving it a kiss. “Maybe it’s a little sore still.”

You kissed it again and he smirked.

“I’m really glad you came with me, Dean.”

“Me too,” he said. “The rest of your family isn’t this fucking nuts though, right?”

“Oh, wait until you meet my Uncle Ben,” you laughed.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, sweetheart,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “Want to go for a swim and cool off?”

“After you, Winchester.”

_______

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #au

316 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: this was supposed to be a low key first date, but now I’ve gone and injured myself (hiking?) so will you please take me to the hospital?

on ao3 | here |

word count: ~ 4800

-/-

When Emma agreed to go on a date with David’s friend from the office, she figured it would be to a mediocre restaurant where the lighting was a little too dim and the price a little too expensive for the food that was a little too small. That’s how the past few of her dates have gone, besides the one guy who took her to McDonalds. She didn’t know what to think of that. At first, she thought it was a little weird, but she didn’t really mind since sometimes she does want to clog her arteries with their fries. Then, though, she found out that he was testing to see if she was “uptight” and she ended that. Anyone who tests a woman on a date, no matter their reasons, is an asshole.

She is tired of dealing with assholes.

A part of her thinks Killian Jones may be one.

She’s met him a few times, but it’s never been anything significant. It’s been a “hello” at a barbecue, a “how are you” as they pass at a bar, a nod from across the street when they happen to be in downtown Boston at the same time. That’s not exactly a small place, but they frequent the same bars because she goes where David goes and David goes where the rest of the financial advisors in his office go. So, they do end up around each other, and she’s observed him from afar. He nearly always has a smile on his face as he charms a woman, usually a tall brunette that looks a hell of a lot like Ruby, and she’s gathered that he’s funny enough to make them all laugh. That, or they all fake it because he’s attractive and makes good money and they want to get into his pants. If she saw him at a bar and had never heard of him before, she’d probably want the same.

But she’s not at a bar or at that classic mediocre restaurant. She’s waiting in her car in the parking lot of World’s End, a park outside the city where you can do anything from horseback riding to skiing to kayaking to hiking. She’s in a pair of black running shorts, a tank top that’s knotted at the small of her back, and her worn-out running shoes that she doesn’t actually use to run. She’s already rubbed herself down with sunscreen, has her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s got her largest water bottle filled with ice water. She’s totally going to have to pee halfway through this hike, and that’s going to make a great impression.

Emma doesn’t really care about impressing Killian Jones, though. She only agreed to this date because David (mostly Mary Margaret who has bugged her about it at every training session and every dinner they’ve shared) has been trying to set them up for months now. It was getting to the point where Emma was pretty sure she was going to walk into her gym or her apartment and the man was going to be sitting there. To keep that creepy as hell thing from happening, she’s here now, getting ready to sweat her ass off on her day off from training and helping other people train. She always works Saturdays, and she can’t believe she’s using a free day for this.

An SUV pulls up next to her, so she flips her mirror down to make sure her makeup or hair isn’t out of place. It’s not, and when she flips her mirror up, she sees Killian Jones just outside her car window, smirk already stretched across his lips.

“Hello there, Swan,” he greets as she steps outside. “You look lovely.”

She glances him up and down, taking in the fitted gym shorts, gray t-shirt and similarly worn sneakers. He’s got a Sox cap on, but if she had to guess, he probably spent a long time fixing up his hair before this. “Same to you.”

Silence falls between them, and Emma shuffles her feet. She’s not exactly great at small talk, always feeling like it’s stupid to have to talk about the weather when there’s nothing else to talk about, but Killian quickly nods his head toward the trail entrance. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Emma bites her tongue at her stupid-ass answer, and iron fills her mouth.

She’s starting to wish she was at a mediocre restaurant instead. At least then she’d get food.

“So, David told me you’re a personal trainer, so I know you already spend a lot of time exercising. I figured you wouldn’t mind this, though. It’ll only be around five miles. I didn’t plan on it being so bloody hot, though.”

“Well, if all else fails, we can jump into the water to cool off.”

“You make a good point, love.”

Killian guides the small talk – thank God – as they work their way up the trail. He tells her that he got into being a financial advisor because he screwed up in university by getting a degree in finance despite hating it. He’s good with numbers, though, even better with people, and most of his job is about convincing people to trust him. It was the only job he was qualified to have after graduation that wouldn’t require more overpriced schooling, and since he wanted to stay in the country, he had to take whatever was given to him. Six years later, he doesn’t love his job, but he doesn’t hate it.

“So, you came to America to go to a big, fancy, stuck-up Ivy League school, picked a major that you hate, and now you con people into letting you handle their money?”

“It’s not a con.”

Emma pinches her brows together. “Sure.”

“Well, half of your job is convincing people they need help reaching their fitness goals when they could do it on their own.”

“I’m going to go ahead and guess you have never had a personal trainer if that’s all you think we do.”

His forehead wrinkles when his brows lift, and he holds his hands out. “Do I look like I need one?”

Cocky asshole.

Emma hums, pretends to study him, before gently reaching over and patting his stomach. It’s firm, but she doesn’t have to admit that. “I would say there’s definitely some room for improvement there.”

His head tilts back with laughter, his blue eyes closing, and he shakes his head and starts jogging ahead of her. “Hope you can keep up, Swan,” he jokes, his speed getting faster and faster, and Emma quickly runs after him. She’s not a runner. She hates it more than she hates black coffee – which is a hell of a lot – so she only does it if Ruby forces her to do it or if she has to do it with a client. She’s more of a Pilates, cycling, boxing, anything-other-than-running kind of girl. Killian is obviously a runner from the way he moves with ease, his stride nearly perfect, and she knows he’s going slow on purpose to allow her time to catch up.

“You’re an asshole,” she yells out, laughing despite herself, as she gets a little closer to him. The bastard starts full-out sprinting, and she’s left catching her breath as she runs after him. Yep, running is definitely still a bitch, and the other people on the trail are staring at the two of them as Emma chases after Killian. She nearly calls him a “fucking bastard” out loud before she remembers there are children around. That would have been extra shitty on her part, especially since she already called him an asshole.

“Catch me if you can,” he teases, glancing back to look at her, bright smile on his face, and yep, he is a full-out runner. He can speak without gasping for breath, and she’s struggling.

She still hasn’t caught up.

Emma sucks in a deep breath, clutches her water bottle in her hand, and sprints as fast as she can, adrenaline pumping through her veins and her heart pounding. She’s almost there, Killian just out of her range, and it happens before she can stop it.

A rock catches underneath her shoe, twisting her ankle into an unnatural position, and she starts falling to the side before she can stop herself. Emma tries to catch herself, sticking her arm out to keep her face from hitting the ground, and while she does manage that, she knows her arm is going to be a killer tomorrow.

Not as much as her ankle.

“Shit,” she hisses out, rocking backward and reaching for her ankle, but it stings and aches and any possible bad word out there, it does. “Shit, shit, shiiiiit.”

Tears fill her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. It has to be a sprain and only a sprain, but she’s not stupid or stubborn enough to try to get up on her own. Emma gently lays her foot down, not moving her ankle if she can help it, and shakes out her right arm as she looks up to see Killian slowly coming to a stop in front of her, squatting down until they’re almost eye level.

“Are you okay?” he gasps, scanning her face as if that’s what she hurt.

“Oh, I’m just dandy,” Emma mocks. She’d really like to punch him in the face, right across those pretty teeth. This is his fault. He shouldn’t have started running. He’s not even sweeting. She hates him. “This is the best I’ve ever been.”

“I’m so sorry, love.”

“Not your fault,” she says, even though two seconds ago she was blaming him. She still kind of is, but her ankle is throbbing so much that she can’t think straight. “I’m just…I’m not a runner, and I wasn’t looking where I was going. That rock jumped out at me.”

“Accidents happen to all of us.” He scratches behind his ear and then points to a slash on his cheek. “Fell flat on my face during a run. Ten stitches.”

“What that sounds like to me is that neither of us should be running.”

Killian chuckles, lines appearing around his eyes. “Possibly. Do you think you can stand?”

“I’m thinking I can get up but – ” She attempts to flex her ankle, but she might as well be setting herself on fire “ – I don’t know if I can put weight on it.”

Killian nods, reaching down to gently run his fingers over her already swelling ankle. She hisses, and he backs away before standing and leaning down to help her up. Begrudgingly, she takes his hand, and she does manage to get up. When she attempts putting weight down on it, she knows that’s not going to work. She’s going to have to go to the freaking hospital to make sure the damn thing isn’t broken.

“So, good news,” he says, wrapping his arm around her waist while she holds onto his shoulder, “you can stand…a bit. Bad news, we’re a solid two miles away from the cars because we ran a little further than I realized.”

“Can you leave me here and then drive your car through these tiny trails?”

“I’m thinking I’ll get fined for destroying the park.”

“It may be worth it.”

Killian chuckles and starts slowly moving. Emma basically has to hop with him, but she does it, the two of them gingerly moving forward. “I can see if we can get someone who works at the park to bring us a golf cart. Would you like that?”

“No,” she lies, and maybe she’s a little more stubborn than she thought.

“You sure? I know you’re fit, but I don’t think anyone should hop on one leg for two miles when we can get help. I’m guessing you won’t let me carry you on my back.”

Emma curses under her breath and encourages him to keep moving forward. She distracts herself by asking Killian if he’s been to a Sox game yet this season. He’s gone to several with some of his friends, David included, and that starts an entire conversation about David and his weird habits. Talking about a man who is like a brother definitely takes any possible romance out of the date, but then again, so does a trip to the hospital.

It’s a good thing she didn’t have any expectations for this.

Emma makes it a mile before it hurts too much to keep going, and they stop at a bench as Killian googles a number to call to ask if they can get a golf cart up here. They can, but it’ll be at least thirty minutes, so they stay sitting down, Emma’s leg elevated in Killian’s lap as they sit in silence while people walk by enjoying their hikes.

She used to be one of them.

“So, this will probably be the last time you take a woman hiking on a first date?” she jokes, adjusting her ponytail so she has something to do with her hands.

“What? Do you not want to do this again?”

Emma’s hands still. “You want to do this again? With me?”

“Possibly.” He shrugs, but quickly stills so as not to twist her leg. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, this has been an absolutely minging date.”

“Thanks?”

“No, no,” Killian laughs, holding his hand up. “You’ve been wonderful, love. I’ve honestly enjoyed myself, but when you get a woman injured because you’re a bloody competitive arsehole, it doesn’t usually go down well. Dave is never going to let me live it down.”

“Oh, is that why it’s bad? Because David is going to take the piss out of you for it?”

“Definitely. It has nothing to do with you.”

Emma scoffs and leans back, the sun shining down on her face. It was boiling at the beginning of the date, but now she’s sweated so much the heat almost feels comfortable. She’s got to look great right now. She doesn’t even want to check to see if her mascara has run. “Good to know. Besides, you probably only agreed to go out with me to shut David up, right? You spend eight hours, five days a week with him. That’s a lot of time for him to talk.”

Brows pinch together as his eyes narrow. “What makes you think David had to convince me to do this?”

“I don’t know. Don’t you already have a roster of women lining up to date you? From what I’ve heard, there’s a line to your apartment door.”

Killian scoffs and tilts his head back, the sunshine hitting across his stubble and lightening it before it returns to a deep brown. His jaw clenches with a visible pulse, and Emma knows she’s fucked up.

She knows, she knows, she knows.

And she doesn’t know how to fix it. She knows she went into this with a shitty attitude about the date and about Killian, and even though she can be a prickly ass sometimes, she never wants to make someone else feel bad.

She was stupid to assume Killian had the same feelings about this date as she did.

Emma is not used to people actually wanting to be with her.

“I’m no stranger to women as I’m sure you aren’t to men, love, but that doesn’t mean I only asked you here to check off a mark on a list. I was the one who brought it up with David to see if you were interested, not the other way around.”

“Killian, I – ”

“It’s fine.” He waves her away, and she knows it’s not.

The seconds tick by but it feels like hours, and by the time the golf cart arrives to take them to their cars, Emma is convinced she can walk again out of the sheer determination to get away from this awkwardness. Killian talks to the man driving the cart, Graham she thinks, as he drives them off the trail. It’s the only conversation they have until they’re in the parking lot where Emma realizes she’s going to have to ride in his car with him to the hospital. She knew that, logically, but looking at her Bug and then Killian’s SUV, all she can think about is how much she wants to be alone right now.

This is the worst date she’s ever been on, and Neal used to count stealing food from convenience stores as dates.

(Okay, so maybe every date with Neal counts as the worst date she’s ever been on since he royally fucked up her life with them.)

Killian helps her into the backseat of his car so she can keep elevating her leg, and then he closes the door and gets in the front. He turns his radio on, some eighties classics playing through the speaker, and Emma pulls her phone out of her sports bra to text Ruby.

Emma Swan: Fell on my hike, on the way to the hospital to have my ankle checked out. I also insulted Killian, and I’m pretty sure he wanted to leave me on the hiking trail.

Ruby Lucas: What the hell?

Emma Swan: I’ll tell you about it when I get home.

Ruby Lucas: Do I need to meet you at the hospital? I’m going out with Mulan tonight, but since she has to be at work early, I’ll be home around midnight.

Emma Swan: I think the only thing that could make this worse is if he knows I’ve texted my roommate to come and save me.

Ruby Lucas: Well, if things getter better, just know it is possible to have sex with a messed-up ankle.

Emma snickers, and she catches Killian glancing in the review mirror. She bites her tongue and looks down, wondering when the hell this day is going to be over.

-/-

The wait in the emergency room is over an hour…if no one else comes in. That was the caveat the nurse told her, and she gets it. She’s not an emergency. She’s not having a heart attack. She’s just got a sprained (hopefully) ankle.

Looking back, they should have gone to an urgent care.

And she does mean “they” because Killian is still sitting next to her.

“So, what, are you a gentleman or something? Waiting for me like this.”

“I’m always a gentleman, love.”

Emma doesn’t believe that for a second, but she’s not going to argue with him. She’s already done a great job mucking things up, and she imagines David is going to have a field day with her.

She imagines Killian thinks she’s the worst.

“I’m sorry for being so awful,” Emma blurts out, and Killian’s shoulder brushes against hers as he turns to face her. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were some kind of man whore or whatever insulting term I implied. I just…I mean…I am obviously a great date, a great person, a great everything. I’m charming the pants off you.”

Killian scoffs and leans back, his arms going over his head before falling to his lap. She catches a glance at angry red scars on his left hand and forearm that she never noticed before. She wonders why he didn’t share the story behind those when he was talking about the scar on his face. It can’t have been from the same accident. No running accident is that bad. “This is not the worst date I’ve ever been on.”

“How is that possible?”

“Three years ago, I’d just gotten out of a long-term relationship. I was gutted, and I basically had to be dragged out. I was set up with this girl, we went to dinner at Yvonne’s, and there, sitting one table over, was my ex and her husband, who I had just found out about. I didn’t want to tell my new date this, so I tried to pay attention to her. I obviously did a shit job of it because she got so frustrated with me, she poured her soup on my lap and left.”

“Was the soup still hot?”

“No,” he laughs, winking at her. “It was cold, so I’m all still functional down there if that’s what you were worried about.”

“Shut up.” Emma sinks down a little lower in her seat, trying not to laugh or blush, but she knows she fails at both. “So, even after I’ve injured myself and insulted you, I still don’t get the number one spot?”

“I’m afraid you don’t, but you can feel free to give it another go.”

Emma pushes herself back up and twists to look at him, narrowing her eyes to try to figure him out. “Like, right now or on another date? Is that still up for grabs? Because no offense, but if you’re still willing to go on another date with me, I think you might have also fallen and hit your head.”

Killian shrugs. “Or I’m just as much as a wanker as you are and am willing to give you another chance.”

He cannot be serious. That seems ridiculous and ill-advised, but she sees no lie in his eyes. Has she found the craziest man in all of Boston?

There are a lot of them, and she didn’t expect it to be him. A wolf in sheep’s clothing or something else like that.

She also didn’t expect herself to want to give this another shot. Maybe it’s for her ego, but Emma’s going to try not to think about that now.

“I’m pretty sure you’re messing with me because I don’t know how we’re ever going to get past this, but if we were to go on another date, I get to pick the venue.”

“Please tell me it’s not going to be Yvonne’s.”

“Damn, you’ve ruined my plan.” He huffs and Emma nudges him with her elbow. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to walk properly again, but what do you say? You want to go to a Sox game? If we end up hating each other, we can be distracted by the game. Or we can flat out move to empty seats to avoid each other.”

“I like this plan.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think we should get seats at the top and have you walk there.”

Emma groans and elbows him again, a little harder than necessary. “Okay, so I’m buying the tickets then.”

“That was my plan all along.”

“Emma Swan,” the nurse at reception calls out, “we can take you back now.”

-/-

It’s just a sprain. A bad one but a sprain.

She’s supposed to ice it, elevate it, and rest for a few weeks. She curses at that because it means she’s going to have to be sitting during her job, which she hates, and she’s also going to have to do rehab on it. Plus, she was about to hit a record with her cycling classes, and that’s going to be delayed.

But it’s not broken, and she’s been given crutches to help her out for the first few days. She walks out on them – no one ever tells you how much they hurt your armpits – to see Killian standing, waiting for her, soft smile on his lips.

“How are you feeling?”

“Amazing,” she lies.

“David and Mary Margaret have gone and gotten your car,” Killian explains, not missing a beat, and steps to walk next to her, “and have returned it to your apartment. Mary Margaret wanted to rush here, but they’re going to that show tonight.”

“I’m sure David had to restrain her.”

“Oh, he did. I couldn’t see it, but I could imagine it from the way they talked.”

“I don’t even need to hear their argument to imagine it. Thanks for getting that taken care of.”

“No problem.”

Slowly but surely, they get to Killian’s car. She insisted he didn’t need to pull it around – he probably did – but by the time they get there, she’s having a hard time not sweating. The heat is still miserable. The air-conditioning in his car is amazing, though, and Emma nods off as he drives her to her apartment.

“I was worried the entire way here you wouldn’t have an elevator in the building.”

“I’ve got one. Don’t worry. Ruby and I moved about six months ago because we were tired of living in an old building that had a slight egg smell that never went away, so if this had happened six months ago, I’d be out of luck.”

“Small blessings, I guess.” He presses the button to turn off his engine. “Do you need help getting inside or…”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I don’t, but do you want to come in and get delivery? I feel like it’s the least I can do for you.”

“As long as it’s not soup, I’d love that.”

-/-

Emma manages not to insult Killian for the rest of the night. There are times when she thinks she takes it too far, her natural sarcasm coming out, but Killian gives as good as he gets. He never misses a beat, is constantly challenging her, and he puts away half a large pizza with as much ease as she does.

She can never tell her clients this is how she eats.

Really, sitting on her couch, her ankle wrapped in ice and set, she has a better time than she has on any of the dates she’s gone on in the past year. Killian’s never seen The Umbrella Academy, so she puts it on and they watch it, a bowl of popcorn with all the fixings between them.

She really can’t tell her clients this is how she eats.

At some point, the sun now set and the outside world darkened, her eyes get heavy and she drifts off, hushed conversation and laughter in the background. She recognizes those voices, and opens her eyes to see Ruby and Killian talking, but then she’s nodding off to sleep again, the world’s edges blurring. She still feels soft lips and harsh stubble brush against her forehead before everything bleeds into darkness.

-/-

“I cannot believe you screwed that one up.”

“What?” Emma asks, blinking her eyes open. Her neck is killing her, but that’s only momentary distraction from the way her ankle is throbbing.

“I can’t believe you screwed your date up,” Ruby says, and now Emma recognizes that it’s Ruby talking to her. “I mean, he was hot, Emma. So, so hot. Like, I would sleep with him even if he was the biggest asshole in the world.”

“Can you get me some more ice?” Emma groans, groggy.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Ruby gets up and walks into the kitchen, and Emma tries sitting up and opening up her eyes a little more. She doesn’t know what time it is, so she fumbles around for her phone, the bright screen opening up to tell her it’s seven in the morning. She’s also got a slew of texts from David and Mary Margaret, her boss at the gym, Elsa, and one Killian Jones.

The first text is a link. It’s two tickets to a Red Sox game two weeks from now, and the seats aren’t in the upper deck.

Killian Jones: Can I count on seeing you there? You know, to redeem yourself.

Emma Swan: I thought I said I’d buy the tickets.

The bubbles pop up immediately despite Killian having sent his message at two in the morning.

Killian Jones: Didn’t want to chance that you’d run away.

Emma Swan: Is that supposed to be funny?

Killian Jones: Absolutely.

Emma laughs and the corners of her lips tug up. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t anywhere near the worst date she’d ever been on even if it did leave her sore in all the wrong places.

Emma Swan: I’ll be there.

“What are you smiling about?” Ruby asks as she comes in with a newly filled ice pack.

“I didn’t screw the date up as badly as I thought, I guess.” Emma shrugs and lifts her ankle as Ruby wraps it up. “I think it goes down as one of the most interesting first dates in existence, though.”

“And you didn’t even sleep with him, so that’s saying something.”

Emma tosses a pillow at Ruby and sinks into the couch, her heartbeat going a little faster than normal.

Killian Jones: If you get hit by a fly ball, I think that may be it for us. I can’t have you be injured on two dates in a row.

-/-

She doesn’t get hit by a fly ball.

She doesn’t get injured at all.

And in all of the other dates they go on, no one sprains an ankle or gets it by a fly ball or breaks an arm. They’ve got a pretty good track record of good dates, but as Killian likes to say, you never forget your first.

#shireness-says #cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #a real kick in the (hiking) boot

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charincharge · 5 years ago

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Cruel Summer, Part 6

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Today was ~dramatic~ -- I woke up to learn that someone was posting this fic on AO3 and passing it off as their own. It was a BUMMER, to say the least, and it really threw me off. I haven’t posted fic in a decade, and I was really using this as a fun way to remember how much I loved writing (since doing it professionally can seriously zap the fun out of it). And hearing that someone stole my work made me incredibly upset and feel generally violated. I know it’s just fic, but... I work hard to write it and don’t think it’s too much to ask to receive the credit for it? I hope this chapter doesn’t reflect that because I was really excited for this one! Anyway. TL;DR, I ended up creating an AO3 page, so no one can post FOR me moving forward. I’ve updated my Masterlist page accordingly. And please don’t plagiarize, guys, it’s not cool. Okay. Enough of that negativity. Let’s get back to the important things. Like Rowan.

Rain pelts against Rowan’s window, casting a dark, ominous hue over his bedroom. His first real day off from work, and it’s storming outside, naturally. He’d planned to take it easy and go to the beach, maybe go for a long run. But it looks like that’s not happening now. He knows he’s being punished. This is the universe’s way of intervening and letting him know how shitty he is. Rowan can’t shake the image of Aelin’s hurt face. It is seared into his brain. And there’s only one way to get it out.

Rowan lounges back into his pillows and opens his laptop before typing in Aelin Ashryver into his internet browser. Her Facebook profile pops up immediately, but it’s set to Friends Only, and Rowan definitely isn’t brave enough to add her as a friend. Her Instagram appears next, and Rowan nearly jumps for joy that it’s a public profile.

The first picture is of the back of her head, her blonde hair piled high on top of her head in a messy bun, with tendrils curling around the nape of her neck, overlooking her balcony and the view of the ocean beyond. She’s back, bitches the caption reads, and Rowan can’t help but chuckle. Next is Aelin with her entire family at the head of Ashryver Playland in a picturesque pose with the caption Favorite place with my favorite people (minus @dorhav118 who gets in TOMORROW!!!!). The corners of Rowan’s lips curl downward as his curiosity gets the better of him, and he clicks on Dorian’s profile.

Rowan rolls his eyes at Dorian’s bio: “Hot as a pistol, but cool inside.”

His heart tugs at seeing the first picture. It’s from the pool party the other day, when Aelin was still in her white dress. She’s laughing at something Dorian said, her eyes closed tightly, glass of champagne in her hand, while Dorian smizes into the camera. Reunited and it feels so good <3

“Who kicked your puppy?” Manon asks from the doorway, and Rowan slams his laptop shut.

“No one.”

A wicked grin appears on her face as she stalks into Rowan’s room and slides onto the bed next to him. “I have a pretty good idea.”

Rowan sighs as Manon reaches over and opens the laptop back up, her long nails clacking against the keyboard. “Just as I thought.” She looks Rowan over, from the bags under his eyes to his hair, messy from constantly running his hands through it. “We’re going out.”

Rowan looks out the window at the torrential downpour and gray skies. “Out? In that? Where?”

“I don’t know,” Manon admits, “But I’m not letting you mope and stalk Aelin all day. It’s pathetic, and below you, to be frank. There’s got to be something we can do in this godforsaken town when it rains.”

It turns out there’s not that many options for what to do when it rains in the small beach town. Mostly everything is outdoors or beach oriented. But Manon decides that the aquarium is a good indoor activity, and it happens to be next to a brewery – for when they get bored. The pair Uber there, not wanting to deal with the hassle of worrying about sobering up. If Rowan’s not allowed to mope and be pathetic at home, he’s going to do today right. And do it drunk.

Despite it being one of the few indoor activities available, the aquarium is fairly deserted when Manon and Rowan arrive. It’s dark and damp and cool and strangely soothing, and Rowan lets Manon lead the way. She heads immediately for the reptile room, thrilled to see the alligators and lizards and snakes. Somehow Rowan isn’t surprised by this development.

They branch off into a small Amazon Rainforest room, filled with frogs and fish and even more snakes on low hanging branches, and Rowan nearly jumps out of skin when a large bird caws in his direction.

“I fucking hate birds,” he grumbles as Manon cackles in delight. “Can’t we see… cuter animals? Like, turtles and seals or some shit?”

Manon rolls her eyes and leads him straight to the shark tank. It’s open, so they can lean over it and look at the giant creatures. Rowan grits his teeth, only slightly terrified at the image of the fin cutting through the surface of the water.

“You know what you’re feeling is totally false,” Manon comments casually.

“Huh?” Rowan says, trying to maintain his calm façade.

“Sharks aren’t predators of humans. That’s the Jaws effect in action. It completely changed our perception of sharks and actually sparked a hunting frenzy that has put sharks in danger, even though they were just an important part of the ecosystem. Fuck you, Spielberg.”

Manon purses her darkly painted lips and twirls her white blonde hair, leaning over the tank further. Rowan shakes his head at his roommate, who looks like she wants to reach into the water and pet the fucking things. He’s never seen her so affected before.

“Why are you like this?” he asks, and she laughs.

“You’re not thinking about her anymore, though, are you?”

Rowan flicks her off. “I wasn’t.”

“A few more rooms will get you right back to that terrified place and not thinking about her at all. Don’t you worry.” She winks and leads him into an incredibly dark room, which is only lit up with glowing jellyfish. Manon is right, and within a few minutes, Rowan is feeling calm again. He lets the dark and schools of weird underwater creatures soothe him, and after they finish at the aquarium, Rowan is grateful he let Manon drag him out of the house.

“Beer?” she asks, and Rowan nods readily.

“I think I earned it.”

“Shut up, you fucking loved it. Think we should get a fish tank?” she asks, and Rowan shakes his head immediately. Manon is strange enough without tending to creatures from the deep in their apartment.

They brave the rain, realizing they both forgot umbrellas, and make a mad dash down the street. Rain soaks Rowan’s shirt, but he feels light. They duck into the brewery, and Rowan shakes out his hair, spraying water all over Manon, like a wet dog. He’s never seen her look so horrified.

“You’re lucky I set my makeup, so it’s immoveable every day,” she says with narrowed eyes. “First round’s on you, asshole.”

Rowan orders them two beers fairly quickly, despite the brewery being packed with patrons (he guesses this is where everyone goes when it rains). But when he turns around to hand Manon her drink, he’s surprised to see her mid-conversation with the very last person he wants to see.

“Rowan!” Dorian calls him over with a wide smile, and Rowan grimaces as he joins them. “I was just introducing myself to your stunning roommate,” Dorian says, and Manon rolls her eyes. But Rowan knows she’s beaming internally with the praise. Manon knows she’s beautiful and doesn’t let anyone forget it, despite her lack of interest in men.

“Uh, hey, Dorian, right?” Rowan says, pretending like he wasn’t just browsing the man’s Instagram profile merely hours ago.

Dorian laughs heartily. “Rowan, come on. We’re friends. Any friend of Aelin’s is a friend of mine.” He grins again, and Rowan can’t help but stare at his incredibly white teeth. He wonders if he whitens them. He must, because no one’s teeth are that naturally white. Or straight.

“Come sit with us!” Dorian points to their table where Aelin sits with the same two people from last night.

“Sure!” Manon says, the same time Rowan says “NO!” emphatically.

“Come on,” Dorian pleads. “We have a big table, and the place is packed. You’ll be lucky to find standing room otherwise. Please, Aelin would be horrified if I let you leave without saying hi.”

Rowan’s stomach churns, but he feels trapped. He can’t say no. “Lead the way,” he says, and Dorian smiles another blinding smile.

“Great.”

He leads them to their table, and to say that Aelin looks shocked to see Rowan approach would be an understatement.

“Look who I found!” Dorian exclaims, gesturing to Rowan and Manon, who stand next to the table awkwardly. “Chaol, Nesryn – these are two of Aelin’s friends, Rowan and Manon.”

The brunette dude, Chaol, gives Rowan a tight smile and short head nod, but the woman, Nesryn, stands and shakes both their hands politely.

Rowan and Manon slide into the two empty seats, and of course Rowan is directly across from Aelin. She looks at him curiously as he takes a large sip of his beer.

“So, how do you know Aelin?” Chaol asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“Rowan works at the park,” Dorian explains. “And Chaol is Aelin’s ex-boyfriend and my other best friend,” Dorian chuckles.

“It’s not as awkward as it sounds,” Chaol says with a laugh.

Aelin squints her eyes and looks at Chaol. “Mmm… it kind of is.”

Manon snorts. “You’re a handful, aren’t you?” she says, leaning toward Aelin, and Aelin flips her golden hair over her shoulder and shrugs.

“Two handfuls, thank you very much,” she says and feels herself up, showing how her chest spills over her hand, too much for one to grasp fully.

“Aelin!” Chaol chides, and Rowan can feel heat creep up the back of his neck as he stares at Aelin’s ample cleavage as she lifts it up.

Dorian cackles, his laugh piercing through the room as he tips his head back. He reminds Rowan of Manon when he does it, so amused with others’ discomfort.

Rowan glances back at Aelin’s chest, and when he looks up, she’s staring back at him, one brow raised in question. He immediately finishes the rest of his beer, downing it in one gulp.

“I need more beer. Anyone else?” Rowan asks, and to his surprise, Chaol stands and offers to come with him.

The pair stand side by side at the bar, waiting for their drinks, and Rowan is unsure of what to say to his current crush’s former paramour.

“So…” Chaol begins, and Rowan cocks an eyebrow at him as he leans against the bar. “You were at The Mason Jar last night,” Chaol says, naming the dive bar where he’d met up with the guys the night prior. “Aelin booked it to the bar when she saw you,” Chaol continues. “You guys, like, a thing?” he asks, curiosity seeping through his anything but innocent question.

“What?” Rowan says, bowled over. “No. Uh. Not at all.” Rowan is more than flustered. “I thought she and Dorian were…”

And at that Chaol tips his head back and guffaws. A deep, full-body belly laugh, erupts from his mouth. “Dorian?” he gapes, his brown eyes wide with disbelief. “And Aelin?” He shakes his head. “No. No no no. Never.” Chaol pauses. “They kissed once when they were thirteen, but other than that. No. Dorian is her person. Which is why it could never work between us, even though we tried for five fucking years,” he sighs and scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably. “But, no. They’re definitely not.” Chaol looks at Rowan, and Rowan feels like he’s seeing through him completely. Chaol smiles softly. “You really thought? Hmmm.”

Rowan is stunned. Seriously stunned. He has no idea how to react. Or how to process this new information. Dorian and Aelin are not dating? They’re just… friends? So, Aelin is available? And has been flirting with Rowan for the past week, and Rowan just shot her down? Rowan rubs his forehead with his hand, which he thinks is the only thing stopping him from banging his head against the bar in shame. Rowan is an idiot.

An idiot who needs to apologize to Aelin. Immediately.

“This was, uh… enlightening,” Rowan says as he accepts his drink from the bartender, and Chaol can’t help but laugh again.

“Did you do something stupid?” he asks cheekily.

“So stupid,” Rowan says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, she was kind of in a mood after she came back from talking to you,” Chaol says, and Rowan groans. Chaol holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help!”

Rowan turns to him fully and examines the brunette with his concerned brown eyes and has to ask, “Not to be rude, but why?”

“Because Aelin deserves to be happy,�� he says resolutely. “And I kept her from being happy for a really long time because I’m a selfish bastard,”Chaol admits way too freely. “But, how could I not?”

“You still love her,” Rowan says, and Chaol shrugs.

“I think once you love Aelin you always love her. For better or worse.”

Rowan motions to the table. “I’m gonna…”

Chaol smirks. “Yeah, get to it.”

But back at the table, Aelin and Dorian are nowhere to be found. Manon sighs, obvious to Rowan’s distress.

“She went to sign up for karaoke.”

“Oh no…” Rowan groans.

“Oh, yes,” Aelin says, bounding back to the table, exuberant.

“Don’t worry. I signed you up, too, Rowan,” Dorian says with a grin.

Aelin frowns, her eyes filled with apology. “I told him not to.”

Dorian rolls his eyes. “And I told her that if Rowan wants to hang with us this summer, he’s gotta get initiated.”

“It’s fine,” Rowan says, smiling in what he hopes is a nice and not creepy way to Aelin. She looks momentarily confused, but she doesn’t have time to think about it because she’s called up to do her song with Dorian almost immediately.

The pair sing “Shallow” flawlessly. And now that Rowan knows they aren’t dating, he can see their friendship all too clearly. Aelin and Dorian love each other fiercely; their passion rages through everything they do, but it lacks a spark. It’s platonic, Rowan finally realizes. He’s been such a fucking fool.

Rowan’s name gets called next, and his stomach is is knots, wondering what song they’ve chosen for him. When he gets to the front, though, he nearly laughs. They’ve chosen a song he could sing with his eyes completely closed.

Shorty get down, good lord… baby’s got ‘em up all over town…

Strictly biz she don’t play around, cover much ground, got game by the pound

Getting paid is her forte

Each and every day, true player way

I can’t get her out of my mind

Think about the girl all the time…

He knows the song is comeuppance for calling Aelin friendly last night, but he crushes it nonetheless, singing his heart out, performing for the masses. When Rowan finishes, the crowds go wild, applauding like crazy.

He sees Aelin bolt from the table before he can get back off the stage, and decides to follow her. She heads down the long hall back to the bathrooms, and his long stride helps him catch up quickly.

“Aelin!” he shouts, and he’s grateful that she pauses, but her arms are crossed over her chest, a clear defensive stance that tells him to keep his distance.

“What?” she snips, obviously pissed. They haven’t actually interacted with each other since last night, and Rowan knows she has every right to be angry with him. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me? What are you even doing here, Rowan?”

“I’m an idiot,” he blurts out, and he can see Aelin’s face morph from pissed to amused. She bites her lip to hold back her smile.

“I mean, I know that, but why do you think that?” she says, her blue gold eyes glowing with challenge. He takes a step closer to her, and she backs up until she can’t back up anymore, pressed against the side of the hall. He pauses his approach, not wanting to make her feel cornered. If she wants space between them, he’ll let her have space.

“I was so out of line last night,” Rowan apologizes. “You were right. You were just trying to be friendly. I was being a dick. I thought…” Rowan pauses. He doesn’t want to be this tongue tied, but she flusters him, and he can’t get anything out how he wants to. “It’s not harassment when I want to be touched. By you.”

Aelin’s eyes narrow. She looks suspicious as she examines him.

“I knew I was good at karaoke, but damn, I didn’t anticipate this kind of turnaround…” Aelin smirks and takes a breath, and Rowan risks taking another step forward. She holds up a hand and presses it against Rowan’s chest. He didn’t realize how close he’d gotten to her. Warmth from her palm seeps through his shirt, and he breathes heavily. She looks up into his eyes with curiosity.

“Seriously, what changed your mind?” she asks.

“If I say Chaol’s name right now it’s just going to make things weird,” Rowan says, dipping his head slightly, and he can’t help but notice her tilt her head up to him. He zeroes in on her lips, leaning down to get even closer.

“You’re right,” she says with a soft laugh. “You were still a jerk.” Her eyes flick to his lips, and Rowan darts his tongue out to wet them.

“I know,” he breathes softly. “And I mentioned I was an idiot, right?”

Aelin nods and leans in to close the gap between them, the charge, the magnetism between them now palpable, strumming through Rowan’s body, pulling him downward.

“Hey guysss,” Dorian drawls as he walks past them quickly, and Rowan straightens up suddenly. Aelin darts under his arm, freeing herself from being backed into the wall. He sees her take a large breath. “I was wondering where you’d gone.” Dorian looks between them, and then grabs his stomach. “I have to pee so bad. Don’t mind me!” He continues down the hall. “As you were!”

Rowan goes to finish his apology, but the moment is gone, and so is Aelin. He needs a moment to compose himself, and when he makes it back to the table, she’s already deep in conversation with Manon and Chaol and Nesryn about the latest karaoke performance. Apparently in his absence someone murdered “Bohemian Rhapsody” and not in a good way. But Aelin acknowledges Rowan’s presence with a flash of a smile, despite not breaking her conversation.

Manon side eyes Rowan suspiciously, and Rowan brushes her off. He’s not ready to talk about whatever just did or did not happen in that hallway.

Their chatter is aimless but pleasant as afternoon bleeds into evening, and eventually they all decide to disperse and head home. Rowan never gets a chance to speak to Aelin alone again, but when he and Manon are in their Uber heading home, his phone flashes with a Friend Request from Aelin Ashryver.

“Hmm,” Manon hums pointedly as Rowan bites back a smile. He spends the rest of the night in bed, scrolling through Aelin’s social media. As he’d originally planned to do with his day. Only now, he doesn’t feel as mopey or pathetic. He lets the rain, still relentless, lull him to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

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stina-is-a-punk-rocker · 4 years ago

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stephanie perkins: ‘anna and the french kiss’

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Then again, if you’ve read any YA book, ever, it’s fairly obvious what’s going to happen.

I was going to go easy on this book; I really was. It’s really unfair how media aimed at a female demographic is seen as frivolous and vapid, and more often than not bashed and bullied when it comes to reviews. “People actually enjoy this crap?” ask the powers that be. “It’s worthless! Pulp! Dreamy-eyed nonsense only complete nimrods could ever like!”

And I take offense to that. There’s nothing wrong with liking romance or happy endings or stories about cute European boys. I was ecstatic when I stumbled across Anna and the French Kiss upon a chance trip to the bookstore. The cover was… meh (Century Gothic? Really? There were no other fonts?). But I’d heard nothing but praise about the book, and I was prepared to stay up all night and into the wee hours of the morning to finish it.

Admittedly, I was far from impressed upon the first reading. The characters were unlikable, the plot would’ve worked better for less shitty characters, honestly fuck these characters am I supposed to like them, fuck Anna, fuck Étienne, fuck Bridgette, fuck Toph, fuck Dave and Meredith and Amanda and Seany and every other stupid character in this stupid book.

The second time around, I expected to not hate it as much as I did when I first read it. It’s happened- I hated Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda when I first read it, and when I read it again, all that red-hot anger simmered down into an overall dislike. I thought To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before was trash at first, and then I read it again, and it got promoted to recyclable waste matter.

I found Anna and the French Kiss horrendous the first time I read it, and then I read it again, and… yeah, it’s still pretty awful.

Le Sommaire:

Anna Oliphant is a seventeen-year-old wannabe film critic who is #NotLikeOtherGirls – so she’s exactly like every other female YA lead. To her credit, she never explicitly says she’s special… everyone around her does.

She has a pretty meh life in Atlanta, Georgia with her mum and little bruv Sean- and then her dad decides to ship her off to France for her final year of high school. I’m not judging Anna for bawling her eyes out on her first day; I’m a huge mummy’s girl myself and I’d probably (definitely) do the same.

Meredith is Anna’s next-door neighbor, who does that thing which only happens in YA where she’s like “Oh, newbie? Let’s be friends!” (Or maybe it does happen irl and I tend to make a bad first impression which is why no one has ever approached me.)

Meredith’s friends are: Rashmi and Josh (who are a couple), and Étienne St. Clair. Guess which one is the love interest.

Étienne is cultured in that white person way where he’s half American, one quarter French and one quarter British. A true international.

But- *gasp*- American-British-French boy has a girlfriend, Ellie.

Anna has an absolutely gorgeous punk rocker (yum) boy with sideburns (yikes) back home named Christopher. Also, Christopher’s nickname is ‘Toph’ instead of ‘Chris’ because he too is #NotLikeOtherGirls. Anna tells us that nothing will happen between her and Étienne.

Anna is wrong.

Meredith has a crush on Étienne. So does the Regina George of the school, Amanda.

Étienne and Anna have some moments ™.

♫ Everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but Anna ♫

I tear my hair out in frustration.

Several other white boys vie for Anna’s heart. Anna remains blissfully unaware (♫ that’s what makes you beautiful ♫). Étienne (who is still dating Ellie, mind you) is unreasonably agitated by this.

Étienne’s mum has cancer btw, which excuses all the shitty things he does, because he’s just a poor, misunderstood boy.

Ellie dresses up as a, quote unquote, ‘slutty nurse’ for Hallowe’en, though- so it’s perfectly okay to dislike her (even though, in the first interaction she had with Anna, where Ellie meets Anna and Étienne, after Étienne takes Anna to the movies, Ellie is perfectly sweet).

Anna, however, is NOT a slut. Amanda is, though. And Rashmi’s cold. And Meredith’s desperate. And Emily’s a slut, too. And her friend Bridgette from Atlanta is a traitor. Anna has an intense case of internalized misogyny.

Anna’s friend Bridgette from Atlanta is screwing Toph, and Anna throws a fit.

Étienne and Anna have some more moments ™.

A truly chaotic series of events befall Anna. She somehow winds up dating Dave (one from the harem of white boys who likes her) to spite Étienne, she gets into a fight with Amanda, more drama ensues, there’s a hint for a spinoff, Étienne and her kiss, Meredith sees and feels betrayed… several misunderstandings and more bullshit later, Étienne and Anna wind up together, because true love conquers all.

Mes Réflexions:

(If the French is off, blame Google Translate.)

Usually, it takes me half a page of my notebook to scribble down my thoughts about the book I’m reading. This motherfucker took me almost an entire page.

Granted, a solid 30% of those notes are me throwing insults at Étienne, but still. ‘STOP STOP STOP YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND YOU DICK’ counts, right?

(That was #17 in my notes, by the way.)

For the record, I like Stephanie Perkins’s writing. It’s not as over-the-top and unnecessarily introspective as Jenny Han’s in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, and the interactions between Anna and her classmates were natural and not the “How do you do, fellow kids?” style of Becky Albertalli’s Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda. The pacing is decent- I didn’t feel like it was too rushed; not the insta-love trope most YA romances unfortunately fall prey to.

And yet. AND YET.

Anna: “What’s your problem?” Amanda: “You.”

Same, Amanda, same.

Anna Oliphant is one of my least favorite leads in a book, ever. Étienne’s even shittier. And it’s not like Nick or Amy Dunne from Gone Girl, or any of the main characters from The Secret History, where readers pretty much unanimously hate them. You’re meant to relate to Anna, you’re meant to find Étienne charming and dreamy. I literally had to put the book away and calm myself down several times- especially in the last quarter of the book.

One of my main gripes with Anna is how… dumb she is. I guess Anna’s “Oopsies, silly me, I don’t know French!” is meant to be relatable to the readers. And some parts (like her not knowing how to order food because she can’t speak French) are plausible, but- sis, you didn’t know how to spell oui? And my idea of a cinematic masterpiece is Kung-Fu Panda, but even a dumbass like me knows that France is the film appreciation capital of the world. And yet Anna, a self-professed film freak, doesn’t?

Of course, Anna’s gorgeous, but she has no clue, because of course she doesn’t- even though she has multiple guys falling head over heels for her.

I’m in a short skirt. It’s the first time I’ve worn one here, but my birthday seems like the appropriate occasion. “Woo, Anna!” Rashmi fake-adjusts her glasses. “Why do you hide those things?”

Étienne is staring at my legs. The scales covering them throb under his intense gaze, and the pincers sticking out of my thighs start clicking rapidly in arousal. My hooves shiver in ecstasy.

… sorry, that’s not funny.

Her friends think Anna’s weird for wanting to write film reviews (which is the most contrived thing I’ve ever heard) instead of being the next Margot Robbie or whatever, but of course Étienne doesn’t and he thinks it’s not weird and cool and that Anna is such a special snowflake.

(Man, I sound like Amanda.)

And then we have this spiel by Anna about how she got into film critiquing (?), because we the readers need to know how special and #NotLikeOtherGirls Anna is.

To this, I say, “Piss off, you pretentious fuck.”

Of course, Anna’s a virgin and she’s never gotten drunk before or worn short skirts- she’s not a slut, she shaves below the knees only.

And would YA really be YA without several hearty helpings of internalized misogyny?

First up, we have the bimbo; the Barbie doll archetype whose only goal in life is acquiring the main guy (who is quite obviously uninterested in her), and making life hell for our protagonist. Amanda Whatsername (is she ever given a surname?) has this coveted role in Anna and the French Kiss. She’s blond (because of course she is); the first time we meet her, she’s in a, quote unquote, ‘teeny tank top’, and she also ‘positions herself for maximum cleavage exposure’. She’s always flipping her hair, getting her grubby paws on Étienne, giving Anna the stink-eye, being homophobic and a grade-A bitch.

Meredith goes batshit when Anna and Étienne kiss, and is very pouty and unhappy during prior Anna x Shittiene moments. Honey… he’s just not that into you. Rashmi’s the Ice Queen reincarnate and halfway to bitchdom. Anna doesn’t go as hard on them as she does on literally every other female her age in the book, though.

Rashmi looks at me for the first time, calculating whether or not I might fall in love with her own boyfriend.

Anna, hate to break it to you, but not everyone’s a possessive fucking weirdo.

About Cherrie, her ex-boyfriend Matt’s new girlfriend:

And maybe Cherrie isn’t as bad as I remember. Except she is. She totally is. After only five minutes in her company, I cannot fathom how Bridge stands sitting with her at lunch every day.

Her lifeless laugh is one of her lesser attributes. What does Matt see in her?

Even Bridgette, Anna’s best friend from Atlanta, isn’t immune to Anna’s anti-female propaganda. She’s screwing the guy Anna used to like, and Anna, the hypocrite, throws a huge fit.

For context: Bridgette and Toph are in a band called the Penny Dreadfuls (why is it with YA books and horrible band names? ‘Emoji’ from Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda was bad enough), and Anna + Matt + Cherrie go to a bowling alley to see them perform. After the performance, Toph announces that he’s sleeping with Bridge, and Anna confronts Bridge… onstage.

“… You’re welcome to move in when I leave again, because that’s what you want, right? My life?”

She shakes with fury. “Go to hell.”

“Take my life. You can have it. Just watch out for the part where my BEST FRIEND SCREWS ME OVER!” I knock over a cymbal stand, and the brass hits the stage with an earsplitting crash that reverberates through the bowling alley. Matt calls my name. Has he been calling it this entire time? He grabs my arm and leads me around the electrical cords and plugs and onto the floor and away, away, away.

Everyone in the bowling alley is staring at me.

I duck my head so my hair covers my face. I’m crying. This would have never happened if I hadn’t given Toph her number. All of those late-night practices and… he said they’ve had sex! What if they’ve had it at my house? Does he come over when she’s watching Seany? Do they go in the bedroom?

I’m going to be sick.

Give me a goddamn break.

Anna, about Ellie:

To my amazement, Ellie breaks into an ear-to-ear smile. Oddly enough, it’s this moment I realize that despite her husky voice and Parisian attire, she’s sort of… plain. But friendly-looking.

That still doesn’t mean I like her.

“Anna! From Atlanta, right? Where’d you guys go?”

She knows who I am? St. Clair describes our evening while I contemplate this strange development. Did he tell her about me? Or was it Meredith? I hope it was him, but even if it was, it’s not like he said anything she found threatening. She doesn’t seem alarmed that I’ve spent the last three hours in the company of her very attractive boyfriend. Alone.

[about Ellie’s Hallowe’en costume] Slutty nurse. I don’t believe it. Tiny white button-up dress, red crosses across the nipples. Cleavage city.

If I didn’t like Ellie before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now. It doesn’t matter that I can count how many times we’ve met on one hand.

I fantasize about their break-up. How he could hurt her, and she could hurt him, and all of the ways I could hurt her back. I want to grab her Parisian-styled hair and yank it so hard it rips from her skull. I want to sink my claws into her eyeballs and scrape.

It turns out I am not a nice person.

YOU DON’T FUCKING SAY.

Emily Middlestone bends over to pick up a dropped eraser, and Mike Reynard leers at her breasts. Gross. Too bad for him she’s interested in his best friend, Dave. The eraser drop was deliberate, but Dave is oblivious.

One of the juniors, a girl with dark hair and tight jeans, stretches in a move designed to show off her belly button ring to Paul/Pete. Oh, please.

And I’m meant to like this character? I’m supposed to root for her?

I’m not saying every girl in the book should be perfectly sweet and friendly- that’s just not realistic. But when Anna has something judgmental to say about every other young female character… maybe she’s the problem.

In fact, the only girl I recall getting a pass is Isla Whatsername. And why do you think?

Brilliant.

And now we have the amalgamation of almost every fanfic boyfriend trope from 2014, Étienne St. Clair. Brown-eyed Harry Styles. I can’t fucking wait.

Étienne could’ve discovered the cure for cancer, or abolished poverty, or volunteered at animal shelters in his spare time. He could’ve been the most virtuous guy around (fret not; he decidedly isn’t). And I still wouldn’t’ve thought of him as the man of my dreams because HE HAS A BLOODY GIRLFRIEND.

I mean, which girl doesn’t want her boyfriend to say:

“I cheated on her every day. In my mind, I thought of you in ways I shouldn’t have, again and again.”

Fuckin’ smooth, bro.

“No matter what a terrible boyfriend I was, I wouldn’t actually cheat on her. But I thought you’d know.”

Such a gentleman!

“So you can keep dating Ellie, but I can’t even talk to Dave?”

Étienne looks shamed. He stares at his boots. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t even know what to do with his apology.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. And this time, he’s looking at me. Begging me. “And I know it’s not fair to ask you, but I need more time. To sort things out.”

And this gem:

“If you liked me so much, why didn’t you break up with her?”

“I’ve been confused. I’ve been so stupid.”

*me, banging pots and pans together* F U C K Y O U

“Ellie’s not like you, Anna; she’s a slut and a whore even though I’m the one who’s been thinking about another girl inappropriately and I’m the one who gets my knickers in a twist when another man glances in your direction because my masculinity is extremely fragile and I’m a total hypocrite and a dickhead.”

I mean, he didn’t actually say that, but that’s the gist.

WHILE DATING ELLIE: he gets Anna a book of sexual love poems, he calls her attractive (“Any bloke with a working prick would be insane not to like you.”) multiple times, he gets jealous whenever another guy so much as breathes in Anna’s direction and constantly interrupts such interactions, he’s been ditching his friends for his girlfriend but suddenly decides he prefers a new girl over said girlfriend, he thinks bread pudding tastes good- in conclusion, he is a Massive Fucking Prick. Though in hindsight, him and Anna deserve each other. They’re awful.

I had loads more notes taken down (Anna using Dave; “The important thing is this: Dave is available. St. Clair is not.”); the implication that cheating is okay because Ellie is bad or whatever, even though the sudden change in her character seems contrived because she was perfectly okay with Étienne and Anna hanging out before; how my blood boils whenever I read an American book and American girls are like “oOoOh AcCenT!!!1!!1!!”; me reading “DAVE SAYS YER A SLUTBAG” in Hagrid’s voice; the sheer atrocity of the name ‘Étienne St. Clair’ (sounds like a caricature of a French person)… but this ‘review’ is already pushing 3k and I can’t be fucked to expand on any of those points.

Verdict (which is apparently the same in French):

Who needs Christopher when Étienne St. Clair is in the world?

Speak for yourself.

#books #book review #anna and the french kiss #Stephanie Perkins #french #france #parisian #paris #YA #young adult #romance #teen fiction #bad books

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spice-chan · 4 years ago

Text

Give me your vows.

Pro hero!au , marriage!au

Bakugo x fem!reader

Chapter 1 - My husband.

Word count : 2.4 K

There was no wedding. He was a hero, so it was a bit dangerous, plus, it’s not like you are in it for love. Still, it kind of felt like you were missing out on something every women should experience, the joy your friends described, how beautiful they looked in wedding dresses. You were prepared to get that, but now it felt like a massive loss that you never would, even though a part of you didn’t even want it anymore.

Love. The word still brought a searing pain through your heart, knowing you will never have what you once did. You dreamed of a future of the man you loved, Yuki’s kind smile filling your days as the two of you built a family together. All his little habits leaving a mark on your day, it was ripped away from you so cruelly.

Now your ‘husband in name only’, Bakugo, who you only had one conversation with, is in the car with you, driving you to your humble abode.

You were bitter, the taste remaining in your mouth throughout the whole drive.

It was so awkward as well, and you could guess that he also felt the same way, his default scowl was there, strong as ever, and his mouth had been sealed shut the entire drive, he didn’t even bother starting a conversation.

He parked the car, the house already fully furnished and ready to be moved into, including all your clothes and his.

Now all that’s left is to sleep and ignore the man next to you, or pretend like it’s a friend having a sleepover.

You moved to the door, unlocking it and twisting the doorknob, letting the fresh wave of clean air hit your senses. It was unfamiliar, not cozy like how you’d expect a home to be, it was stale. You slid inside, taking your shoes off at the door, your heart pounding in nervousness as he came inside too and took off his shoes. You went to the vase, taking out the extra key and handing it to him, deciding to break the ice.

“Here’s the key.” You said, holding it out to him, who took it wordlessly.

You offered a polite smile and went to the bedroom to change. Now that the situation sunk in, you accepted that you’re stuck for now, might as well try to get along. Bakugo saw the smile she sent him. He thought it looked oddly detached.

...............

You changed into your pyjamas, just some comfy shorts and a matching tank top. You hurried the process, knowing that Katsuki is waiting for you to finish changing to get on with it himself. You padded into the living room, and found his bulky form on the couch, scrolling through some of his social media. You coughed awkwardly, gaining his attention, and bringing to your own just how piercing and intense his gaze is. It made you nervous in a way, unsure of his thoughts.

“Uh, I’m done, you should go change.” You said, trying to hold the eye contact he seemed to be trying to make with you.

He promptly locked his phone, and left it on the coffee table, while heading to the room that you both now share. Damn, wedding nights aren’t supposed to be like that, ugh.

Now thinking about wedding nights, your expression fell, unable to maintain an optimistic view on the situation. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, in your eyes, fate had been too cruel to you. You were supposed to be with Yuki, and he was supposed to be with you forever. Now here you were, stuck with another man.

Why did you go through with this again ?

Taking a deep breath of the house which only smelt of sanitisers, you tried to bury your anguish. Bury it in the deepest parts of your heart, where Yuki resides, dead or not.

.........

Katsuki put on his loose sweatpants, mulling on his current situation.

He went to the dresser mirror, running his hand through his ash blonde hair.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears your soft voice and gentle knocks on the door.

“Uh, Bakugo, I’m making some tea, would you like some? .” You asked. Bakugo was surprised that you decided to use his surname. He wanted to say ‘yes’, but was scared that would sound too desperate. So instead, he opted for -

“Tch, guess I could spare some time.” He heard you hum, then the sound of your footsteps padding away to the kitchen.

Bakugo had a contemplative look on his face.

This situation was so weird for Bakugo. He had zero experience with women, now suddenly he’s married ? Didn’t he skip steps ? Because this was awfully backwards.

He never thought the arranged marriage fiasco was for him, then again he never thought he’d be married to begin with. But here he was, with the most beautiful women he saw, married, living together, sleeping together...

Bakugo scowled as he felt warmth rush to his head. No, nope.

He heard your harmonious feminine voice call out to him, snapping him out of his reverie. He made a strangled noise and made his way to the living room. You looked up, but your brows furrowed in concern when you saw his face.

“Bakugo, you ok ? Your face looks really red. Is it a fever ?” You rambled on, making Bakugo growl.

“Shut up Shitty woman, I’m fine !” He exclaimed, his embarrassment growing at her show of concern. Unneeded, totally unnecessary and stupid concern.

You made a confused face, but couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“Ok shitty man.” She responded.

“HAH” his hair literally stood up as he suffered an internal explosion, ready to wipe that mocking smile off her face.

“Do you take your tea with sugar ?”

“No no, repeat what you just said, damn scum!”

“Such fine tea, I’ll put you a table spoon then”

A fuse popped inside Bakugo.

This was going to be eventful.

Before Katsuki could snap at her, she give him his cup of tea, and started drinking her’s as if nothing happened. The fun moment was over, and no one wanted to address the elephant in the room.

She opted to scrolling through her phone while enjoying her tea then having another go at a conversation with him, but all in all, he seemed harmless, just enjoys exercising his lung capacity.

After a while, she finished, and moved to put her cup in the sink, from what she could see, Bakugo greatly resembled her current state. He looked like he was so sleepy, he could fall at any moment now. She moved to him and tapped his shoulder, once again becoming the target of his intense stare. The intense, vermilion stare.

“You should go sleep, you look tired, I’m heading to bed too. Good night.” You walked out then, leaving Bakugo to his own thoughts. Katsuki decided he should go to sleep to, but, next to you ? The idea of sharing a bed is discomforting, a notion never explored before, and now he suddenly has to do it with his wife who he only had a handful of conversations with, about two or three.

Fuck, should he just sleep on the couch ?

No, that’ll only make this more awkward, and Katsuki likes keeping his back in good shape. He walked into the room, twisting the doorknob and walked inside nonchalantly, but if anything, there was a scowl on his face. Your eyes ripped away from staring at your phone harshly. You locked your phone before Bakugo could slide into the bed and see the picture you were staring at. Putting your phone beneath your pillow, you turned your back to Bakugo and eventually fell into deep slumber.

...........

you read the document to be handed to Bakugo, finding that the only thing missing is his signature. Ok, it was all set. Although there was something that your parents agreed on with Bakugo and that is if the firm ever needed financial support in the future, he will help, that was a minor possibility and the ten percent share he will get will be very beneficial for him. The publishing firm your parents owned, which will fully belong to you in a few days, was extremely successful, having opened in several countries too. Your parents also have very suited quirks for the job, your mum’s quirk is photographic, she can remember any image she says, and show the image on any part of her body, while your dad’s quirk is memory, remembering any text he sees. It was probably a quirk marriage, but I never bothered to ask. I did inherit somewhat of a similar quirk to them, more so my dad. I can take one glance at a text and memorise it, while I can also paste it down anywhere I want, be it my body or a piece of paper. It fades when I want it to. Would have been a great quirk for a hacker, too bad me and computers don’t get along, so I settled to reaping the advantages during examinations only. And giving quickie book reviews.

Oh well.

Now that you are married, where you supposed to go hoke and make dinner ? Do take turns ? Do you pretend the other doesn’t exist like in wattpad stories ?

Ok, the last one just seemed like opening the door to drama.

Maybe you’ll be nice and make dinner, then that will make the atmosphere comfortable enough to discuss things, even if every cell in your body screamed ‘avoid situation’. This is something you can’t avoid, you had to be mature in this situation. But while your thoughts were in a state of chaos, someone else’s weren’t in a better shape.

Bakugo sat in his own office, looking at a document that entailed the things he needs to get working on to improve his agency. He debuted three years ago, making him 21- two years younger then you- but his agency was only established a year ago, and there was many things that could be done better, such as the support material and such. However, money wasn’t really the reason he married you, no, that was only a helpful benefit he can reap from it not to raise suspension on his intentions. And his intentions demanded he treat you well.

As one of the heroes known to be single and successful( he was in the top ten on his second year as a pro-hero), and your parents reached out to him for the set up. But Bakugo wasn’t a stranger to you.

He debated accepting, but in the end, not only can it help his company, but help him understand the enigma that is you.

Plus, you wouldn’t know what kind of greedy bastard you might’ve ended up with, even if he was foul mouthed with anger issues, he was still the lesser of two evils.

He decided to bring his document home to read over it at home, he packed his things and prepared to leave. He was getting nowhere anyway, maybe a change of setting could help.

His patrol hours were over, so he changed out of his hero costume, and took a quick shower, before promptly making his way home.

He unlocked the door, twisting it, causing a rush of air to spring out, a certain aromatic smell assaulting his nose, making his stomach grumble in complaint.

She made food ?

He walked into the kitchen, confirming what he already knew, as he saw a simple set up of two plates and cutlery, with drinks next to them, and your tiny frame-he failed to observe before, but your stature was pretty chibi sized compared to his- bringing the ramen over to the middle of the table.

“Oh, hey ! Good that I decided to make this when I did huh, I wasn’t totally sure when you get off work.” You greeted, smiling a tiny smile at him, hoping to ease him a bit. To be real, you were kind of walking on eggshells, would it be like romance stories when the guy decides to tell his arranged wife not to bother him and that he doesn’t need -

“Tch, thanks, I - uh- appreciate it I guess...”

Katsuki said, cheeks tinting at having to express gratitude like that. This was entirety too domestic for him, back when he roomed with dumb, dumber and dumbest, he was the one who cooked or they had take out, convenience store food was an option too. Definitely no women telling him ‘welcome back home I made dinner’. You were probably just trying to be friendly, he shouldn’t get ahead of himself.

He went ahead to change, opting to wear sweatpants again and just a sleeveless shirt.

When he came out, he saw her sitting on the dinner table with her serving of Ramen, putting an excessive amount of pepper flakes in it. Interesting, did she not put any inside because she thought he was some wimp who can’t handle spice ? A tick appeared on Bakugo’s forehead at the thought, finding it irritating when he was underestimated, be it war or food.

“Thank you for the meal.” He said, getting the pleasantries out of the way before taking the red pepper sprinkler from your hand and dumping an unholy amount on his plate. Your eyes bugged out, but you stayed quiet, waiting to witness his untimely demise. He took his first slurp, surprisingly handling it better then you thought, but you can see his cheeks starting to flush after a while. Seeing his struggle triggered your sadistic tendencies.

“Oh, you like spicy too ?” You asked innocently. He nodded, attempting to finish all his food without anyway water. You grabbed the sprinkler, “oh, this one doesn’t taste all that strong to a seasoned eater, you should have more” you said, putting some more on top of his food. The look on his face was comical, his red eyes looked defeated, until they burned with battle like determination.

“Tch, yeah, can barely taste it.” Bakugo lied, eating his food with renowned vigour. You resisted that urge to giggle. In no time, he actually finished his ramen, even though his ears and face were a fierce red. He then got a second serving( must be hard to try to maintain all those muscles) and put spicy in it again. What a simpleton. You grabbed the glasses and filled one with juice, directing your gaze to him as you gestured to them.

“Want some ?” You questioned.

He begrudgingly nodded, believing that he finally proved his tolerance to be worthy.

You found his insistence to be somewhat comical.

.......................

So this switches from second to thid point of view sometimes, I should rlly work on that. I wonder how Bakugo knows you 🤔🤔 guess u’ll find out soon enough. This chap was kinda filler, but i wanted to couchen the story before it gets more intense.

#bakugou katsuki fanfics #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x fem!reader #bakugou katsuki #boku no hero fanfic #boku no academia #mha fanfiction

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