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nymphacae · 2 years ago

Note

A LEGEND in the Rymin fic community loves my fics?? I’m gonna cry /lh /gen

Also might I ask what your headcanons for the silly lil guys are? It’s always interesting to hear how other people interpret these lovable music dweebs.

ahhh i have a LOT of headcanons and it feels like a lot of them vary based on which AU/story i'm working with, hc's are a lot like trying on clothes at thrift stores for me — sometimes you just wanna try a new one out for size and think 'hm!' @ the mirror, it's what makes community engagement so much fun imo !

but i will ATTEMPT to narrow down some of the constants i find when working with rymin and ones that aren't, yknow, confined to specific AUs — although i'm sure if you're familiar with paper trails, you know some of these already lmao

RYAN

HE LOVES REPTILES. You HAVE to know this about me by now but i push ryan lizard propaganda like my life DEPENDS on it!!! He loves bearded dragons in particular – his favorite girl is named Spitfire and she’s a proud lesbian (min in the bg telling ryan to stop pushing a sexuality on her, but he’s ignored). But he loves snakes too, and spiders and lizards…I imagine he names them all after musicians for funsies, spitfire just happened to break that code for me bc i liked the name too much lol

Second thing people probably know about me is how hard i push anti-beatles ryan akagi bc it’s true

He picked up a habit of smoking on the road and he’s since then quit – going cold turkey after getting abducted by a train will tend to break that habit

His sibling’s names, in order, are Alexa, Miya, Ethan, and Eikoh. Both his sisters kinda had to mother him; though he’s closest to Miya (who’s an interior design/textiles major, also engaged) bc Alexa had a severe case of eldest daughter syndrome and it made her pretty snippy – she also fled the nest the second she could and only really calls to yell into the receiver about her job and secret girlfriend

Ryan’s a Schrodinger’s Gender situation for me, so it fluctuates often just based on what story i’m telling. In the AUs/stories where he’s transmasc, ryan names himself after a homeless guy named Ryan who’d sit outside his family’s local supermarket and play a sick riff. One day baby ryan spotted him throw a banana peel at a police officer was chasing him (for dignity’s sake, he always tells friends he was just inspired by ryan roxie, the guitarist)

(also in these AUs, he has insanely intense cycles due to the cursed cocktail of anemia/endometriosis, which leads to minor complications when he’s on the road and can’t afford T/birth control anymore. It’s a whole Thing, he had to be hospitalized for it at age 13 and the doctors basically shrugged, as doctors do. I’ve wanted to explore this caveat before but never found the time, oh well)

also shoutout to prism who engraved 'pt ryan transfem' into my brain you were so real for that

his specific mental diagnosis is also a roulette wheel based on what story im working with, shrug. idk who said that min is adhd in an autistic way and ryan is autistic in an adhd way, but whoever said that changed my life so ty and you're right!! i also lean towards him having/on the watchlist for forming bpd - looking back on pt i believe he showed signs of bipolar disorder

Tulip and Ryan are bffs. I’m not budging on this. They make friendship bracelets and play mario kart and sing karaoke and ryan does her hair bc lake won’t do Femme Things™ with her anymore and they love each other SO Much

Ryan’s acespec; I touch on this whenever I can, but this plays a Big role in his relationship with the music industry. Sex Drugs And Rock N’ Roll is a subculture he could never fit into for a plethora of reasons, and it was another way he felt isolated while going solo due to all the aggressive expectations. He’s sex-POSITIVE, bc it’s important to me to shed the stupid ‘asexuals are all sex-repulsed puritans’ agenda i see being spread sometimes. He thinks it’s fun, and with the right person it is!

He's the one who gets carsick/boatsick and is terrified of flying

He's really into boozy cocktails but he'll pretend he isn’t — he likes tequila and vodka which is funny bc i picture his favorite drink to be like a hurricane or sex on the beach

He's lost a lot of friends by reviewing their mixtapes

He really gets into making pastries and desserts farther down the line! Depending on the timeline this could be a hobby encouraged by a therapist or just an interest he picks up naturally, with min always finding comfort in food and cooking himself

MIN-GI

His mom’s name is Soo-yeon and his dad is Tae-hyun. He visits Jeju-si in the summer since his mom has two sisters living there

Min loves helping his mom around the kitchen/folding laundry. His parents have a huge garden out back with flowers and some veggies, and he likes harvesting from there when his mom lets him (she’s very picky about who touches her flowers!)

Plants are min’s comfort item; they’re basically to him what reptiles are to ryan! He’d cover the entire van/flat with them if he could, he loves succulents in particular and he likes to sing to them

He’s a HUGE dog person!! Whenever he’d come visit the Akagi’s he’d make an IMMEDIATE beeline for the family dog; however when his mom bought a Pomeranian to cure her empty nest syndrome, he despises it (for comedic purposes he only addresses his mother's dog as The Dog)

He leans more on the side of whiskey in drinks; he also likes gin. His taste in alcohol is definitely WAY stronger than ryan’s, less diluted with flavors, but both have the same level of tolerance. he enjoys a good sazerac

He’s a dark chocolate kinda guy

He won the spelling bee in grade four

Once he travels with Ryan and becomes more comfortable with his identity, I think he'd experiment with gender and appearance. while i enjoy seeing gender hc's for My Lads, for me and my writing it's nice to work with a min-gi who embarks on a gender journey and comes back deciding he likes being a cis guy just fine. not that this affects him playing with makeup or clothes lol, also if he were to wear skirts at all they'd be long and loose

Wherever I can apply it, Simon and Min are always gonna be roommates who are stuck in a perpetual loop of basically reenacting that always sunny ‘mac and dennis move to the suburbs’ episode

He looks up to Grace a lot; she’s kinda The Mentor Friend who intimidates you just enough for you to get your shit together, and outside of Kez he'd consider Jesse his closest friend

He loves cooking! He likes making hearty meals for his friends, and he especially enjoys teaching them how to cook if they’re curious

Big ol ADHD mess over here, an icon

He’s the one that most comfortable with his identity, which is very funny to me seeing how he’s the one that casually accepts ‘queer’ as his label while Ryan keeps picking terms out of a hat and then furiously stomping on the slip of paper lmao. Mins just chillin, he likes who he is and he’s not about to challenge that 🤷‍♀️

FOR BOTH:

-ryan's got the cold hands and min's got the warm hands

-they’re both qpps with kez bc it’s important

-min's the one who chugs down coffee like it's water, and ryan likes fancy coffees, but he's more of a tea person lmao (lots of sugar though)

-they both have bad tattoos

-in modern era, they’d do the neurodivergent Thing of assigning everyone they know pokemon teams – they’d be HUGE pokemon fans and would trade cards/art all the time (to discuss their pokemon teams with me would initiate an entirely different conversation……..)

-i've gotten into Agree To Disagree disputes with mutuals over this but i stand by 'min's the one with the 13-in-1 wash and ryan has 12 different hair care products' bc Neurodivergence(tm)

-they both smoke weed and will ruthlessly roast your spotify playlists

I’m hosting a friend rn so uhhh hopefully this suffices

#min gi park #ryan akagi #ask #there are CERTAINLY more but i had to mull over this question for a couple days so i could remember everything i could LOL #im good with having specific scenarios and hcs though which i take pride in. catch me at the right time and ill go in depth for hourrrrs #also lmk if i need to tag anything since i briefly touch on like. weed n transmasc menstruation #rymin

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red-doll-face · 3 years ago

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Hey I love reading your Thomas Hewitt stories and I was wondering if you can write one with Thomas Hewitt being a dom and a little with his female s/o if your comfortable writing it or you can do a Thomas Hewitt and female s/o where they grew up with each other and she had to leave for because of her parents and a couple years later she comes back and surprises him and the family ☺️😅

It’s not that im not up for it I just wasn’t sure if u wanted nsfw or fluff but the second prompt was a bit more clear, if you’re still interested in the first maybe send me a few more details and I’ll see what I can do ! Sorry this took forever to write 🥲

WC: 1285

Warnings; nothing much this is sort of fluffy , mentions of bullying and blood

Thomas B. Hewitt x gn Reader

One and Only

“C’mon, come play with us!” Blonde summer hair bounced around with all of the other girls on the school ground, the other girls with their dresses and bobby socks. Your mother, a dutiful teacher at the school made you wear clothes that seemed to fit right in with them but no matter what she dressed you in, you never were enthusiastic about playing with them.

“Yeah, leave the dumb ugly boy crying in the ditch.” They laughed, cruelly. Your brows furrowed.

“But he’s bleeding.” You mutter and they boo you and blow raspberries at you.

“Who cares, he’s so ugly,” They chitter and some become uninterested enough to wander away. Your heart bleeds like he does as you begin to climb into the ditch he was tossed in. This was the worst anyone had ever done to poor Tommy B. Hewitt. His face was scarred and flaky, thus the target of every person with a mean bone in their body. Girls and boys would poke at him. Prod him like a circus attraction.

“Tommy? Where’s your mama?” He sobs in the ditch, blood from tumbling over sharp things dripping down the tan skin of his arm. Your pressed white shirt has a brown smudge on it already. He never answers that question. You don't say anything either for a moment, watching him heave. You try to help him up but he’s too heavy for you to carry up the steep slope. He must have dirt all over his face. Dirt all over your shoes. You frown and look at the ridge of the hole you're in. His mama’ll never see him from up there. He might never go home. You couldn't imagine him laying in the ditch behind the schoolyard all night, his poor mama crying out for him and he none the wiser. Sleeping in the dirt. You know what his mama looks like. So, you wait on top of the ridge. Eventually, Tommy’s mama comes around.

“You seen my son, child?”

“Yes, Ms.Hewitt. He’s in there. The older boys beat him and pushed him in. Can’t get him out anyhow. I tried.” You point towards the boy. Small for someone so big for his age. His papa must be the size of Mt. Rushmore. The woman gasps and stumbles down the incline.

“You rotten things! My baby down here bleedin’!” She helps her son to stand and you finally see his face. It is indeed covered in dirt and tears. The red scarring raises over the lower half of his face. Tommy sees you looking and he chokes back a sob, letting his head bow to face the ground. His mama can’t quite get him out either so you help her tug him up. His ankle might have gotten hurt. The woman, though judging you as one of the children who tormented her son, thanks you.

“You do this to my son?” She glares down at you and you shake your head.

“Good.”

Tommy’s family has a plantation a few miles away from the town and many a mile away from the slaughterhouse. You and your mama live in the area. Mama sometimes goes down to give Luda Mae, Tommy’s mama, some books for Tommy. She won’t let him go to school no more seeing as how they nearly broke her son's leg. You go down with her, no one to look after you at the house. You hide behind her skirt but she shoos you away to go play with Tommy. She and Ms. Luda Mae talk about tea and rancher’s gossip. Tommy’s in the parlor. Bits of fabric and a tin full of needles sit on the floor with him. You tilt your head.

“What’re you doing?” You speak and he startles. He looks like he might cry again and you're not sure what to do. You watch as he shrinks in on himself. You kneel down next to him, picking up a thread he had cut and a needle.

“Need help threading it?” He fumbles and snatches the items. He tries to show you he can do it, quickly becoming frustrated. He hadn’t the tact for it but it could be learned.

“Here,” you show him your trick, placing the bristled thread between your lips for a second, then slipping it easily in the eye. You pull it out and tell him to try. He slowly copies your actions and you smile.

You remember the Hewitt boy fondly. You remember him when he was his happiest. Unfortunately, your mother couldn't afford to live in the town anymore after her work dried up and the water followed behind. She had found a job in Dallas, as her child you went where she did. You were sad that you had to leave poor Tommy B. Hewitt behind, you knew you were the only friend he ever had.

Now, you live in Dallas, looking after your mother. She teaches kids piano and you work in the city. Your mother one day mentions the quaint country house you used to live in and you decide to go see if it's still standing. Driving down the dusty roads brings back memories of simpler days. You remember, suddenly the sullen face of Tommy too. He had been so sad to see you drive away. You waved at him.

The plantation house is still there. A lot dingier and darker than you could recall. You fear for a moment that it's abandoned but there are signs of life. You carefully walk up to the porch, knowing Tommy’s uncle had set traps to catch varmint all of the time. You make it and knock. The weathered face of Ms. Luda Mae answers, looking surprised and then her face sours.

“If it ain't the city slicker.” She furrows her brow, glasses on beads pulled up to rest on the tip of her nose.

“Hi Ms. Luda Mae. How’ve you been?” You try to be friendly but she appears to be resistant to your smile and warm tone.

“Fine, just fine. You?” It’s southern politeness, she doesn't seem an ounce interested.

“Good, I haven't been down here since-”

“Since you left. Broke my only son’s heart, you did.” You frown. You hadn’t meant to but you won't fill your mouth with excuses. She knows why you left.

“Tommy’s still around?”

“Yup. I’m not sure he’ll want to see you. I’ll call him over anyway.” She closes the door a moment and shuffles off into her house. You stand patiently, waiting. Lumbering footsteps approach the door and stop. Nervous maybe. You don’t call out to him, soon the creak of the door assures you he does want to see you.

“Hi Tom-” He picks you up and hoists you in a hug. You gasp, his arms tightening around your middle. He’s grown up now, you can tell. He’s tall and built like a brick house. He places you down after a moment, hands on your shoulders as if to make sure you’re real. To make sure you’ll stay. He has a mask on to cover a face you’ve already seen.

“Tommy B. Hewitt, do you remember me?” He nods and looks down on you with those familiar brown eyes.

“Your mama said I broke your heart. That true?” He averts his eyes in embarrassment. Looking rather sheepish for a man the size of a bull. He doesn't indicate any form of yes. You comfort him anyway.

“I’m sorry Tommy. Wasn't a thing I could do. Do you forgive me?” He nods after a moment.

“Fill me in on what’s happening round here?” He nods again, eagerly gripping your hand in his own, tugging you inside of the old plantation house..

This one isn’t very exciting and is sort of long but I hope u like it ! Thanks for the req ! 😳🥰

#thomas brown hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #thomas brown hewitt #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher #red writes #tcm the beginning #thomas hewitt

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millllenniawrites · 4 years ago

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gold rush (Poe Dameron x Reader)

part two of dear love of mine

words: 2.6k

warnings: reader has a last name; regency au for the aesthetic but it’s historically inaccurate for the *vibes*; afab!reader; slow burn; sexual themes throughout; eventual smut; pining; awkwardness and slight secondhand embarrassment possible; everyone is unreliable; warnings will be added as the series progresses

a/n: WE’RE FINALLY GETTING INTO THE STORY IM SO EXCITED also we get a lot more Poe in this chapter which I hope you guys like!! as always, if you wanna be added to the taglist, there’s a link in my bio :)

You didn’t see General Dameron or Lord Barnes until dinner that night.

They’d been busy moving their things in. Two more carriages had arrived shortly after the men, but they were mostly carrying Lord Barnes’ staff. With the grandeur of his presence, you were surprised at how little his servants had to carry into your home.

It did make you happy to see that he was keeping those loyal to his father employed through the renovation of his home. You had discussed the very topic at length with Mister Kirk, who had informed you just how easily those servant jobs can be lost.

And how difficult it could be to regain them.

You couldn’t imagine not having your staff with you. Your Ladies Maid, Char, had been the only new edition to your household that you could remember since Siena had been born. You were one big family. They were paid, certainly, but family all the same. No one else had been around through grieving your father’s death. No uncles, no aunts. But the people that had looked after your family since before you were born had been there every step of the way.

At the very top of the staircase you had tumbled down with Ana only hours earlier was a large circular landing, branching off into two halls. The western wing held your sisters’ bedrooms, yours, and the room your mother had moved into in her grief.

The eastern wing was seldom used these days. Since your father had passed, it had been empty except for the staff and your rare journeys to your father’s study for records and estate paperwork. It was perfect for your guests, separate enough from the rest of your family that your eldest sister’s virtue could be ensured without having to turn away the Lord of the land you lived upon.

He would be quite the match for her indeed, if he could get around to actually proposing.

Though you knew that you should have been focusing on Lord Barnes and how best to nudge him in your sister’s direction, your thoughts returned to the General.

You wondered how he was filling his time before dinner. You’d offered them a tour — well, Mister Kirk had offered them a tour on your behalf — but they’d both declined. Perhaps their trip had been long. Ana had not mentioned where they had been voyaging from. It could have been far. Lord Barnes had a few homes. The men in town had said as much when you’d been not-eavesdropping at one of the spring balls.

Only to assure yourself and your mother that Ana would be kept and cared for when they did marry.

Fussing with your hair could only provide distraction for so long. Sat at your vanity, you fiddled with brushes and clips and jewelry that Char had so neatly arranged that morning. Your room was beautiful, smaller than your eldest sisters and made smaller still by the shelves you’d insisted on lining the walls and packing with books. There was no shortage of beautiful trinkets, littered among the stacks of paper. Among your favourites, a bronze compass your father had gifted you and a necklace that had belonged to a distant grandmother you’d never met that appeared more like water droplets than stones.

Every time you allowed your eyes to wander, you could see the General gazing back. Your short glimpse of him had cemented itself in your memory, not allowing you a moment of respite.

He had to know how handsome he was to walk the way he did. Never mind how short your interaction was. You’d seen enough.

Another beautiful man, not unlike the Lord Barnes. The money, the fame behind his title and his bloody victory, meant nothing to you.

But there was something about those eyes…

Perhaps your sisters’ company would distract you.

Before you’d fully registered your decision to move, you found yourself out of your bedroom and at the bottom of the stairs. Your sisters and mother loitered in front of the dining room, chattering amongst themselves.

You slid in between Siena and Ana, linking your arms with theirs. “Are we awaiting something?”

Ana bumped her forehead into your shoulder. “You, silly. Shall we sit. Chef said she was almost finished with supper.”

Your mother opened up the doors to the dining room. This was one room that you were truly proud to inherit. Since you were of an age to sit up without assistance, you’d all sat at the same table. Your grubby hands had smudged across it’s surface. You’d traced the curved edge with the end of a fork at more than one of your father’s terrible business dinner meetings. It was as much of an heirloom than anything else your parents could leave you.

You sat first, at the head of the table opposite your mother as you had since your father had vacated his seat. Your sisters joined you in their chairs with their backs to the window, Siena closest to you.

She leaned across the corner of the table, whispering behind her hand, “How old do you reckon the General is?”

With a roll of your eyes, you whispered back, “Too old for you, dear sister.”

As if summoned, the man himself walked through the door with the Lord Barnes in tow. The General was no longer in a military uniform but a loose white shirt, the sleeves unbound. Barnes was dressed, jacket buttoned and hat tucked under his arm. Truly opposites.

To your dismay, the General sat beside you, leaving the seat next to your mother to Barnes.

“Thank you for joining us, gentleman.” Your mother lifted her wine glass to them, and you followed her lead.

As your servants set your meals in front of you, Lord Barnes broke the silence. “I must say, Miss Dean,” The title caught your attention, though he had directed it to Ana, “It is refreshing to see you after so long of reading your words. Though it was a necessary evil, I have needed to gaze upon you for some time.”

He was bold. So quick to flatter, and in front of your mother, no less. But you weren’t afforded the time to process his words before the General was cutting in.

“A need, you say?” He echoed. “You aren’t perhaps attempting to rewrite Shakespeare, are you, Finn?” The Lord shot an amused look to his companion, who continued, “Does the line not go something like, ‘So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground’?”

Your mother and Siena both sighed, as if you were the only one that could see the General’s clear attempt to flaunt his abilities. It seemed he was determined to be as infuriating as he was beautiful. And you simply would not have that in your home, disrupting your sister’s love.

“Did you have a lot of time to study literature while on the front lines, General?” You asked sweetly, glaring daggers across your plate. “Or was your time spent reading in an office far from the dying cries of your men?”

Your mother politely engaged Lord Barnes in a conversation as the General’s eyes flared. “I studied classics in school, Miss Dean. I can assure you, though I am a few years removed from my education, I do believe I remember the details of my years of study.”

“Did you attend a private school before joining the military, General? It would be a shame if your father had paid good money for you to quote sonnets on the battlefield.” Siena kicked you under the table but nothing could distract you from the fire behind the General’s eyes.

“I did, though it was of my own merit, not my father’s coin.”

“Lord Barnes!” Siena said loudly, forcing you to keep quiet as the rest of the table fell silent. “How long was your journey today? I don’t think you said.”

“A few hours. And please, do call me Finn. I think that we will all be getting to know each other quite well in the next little while and I must admit I am not used to the title, even after a year.”

“Then we shall.” Ana’s sweet voice broke you out of your anger. The way she gazed at Finn would have stoked the flames if not for how truly happy you were for her.

Siena perked up as she discovered a way to insert herself into the discussion. “Do you have a favourite, General? Of the writers you studied?”

“The King himself, of course. Shakespeare. I couldn’t possibly pick another. Do you know of another writer that can so excellently balance the comic and the tragic, Miss Dean?” He addressed you, causing Siena to slump down in her seat. “For if you do, I certainly would not mind a recommendation. This summer shall be long without anything stimulating to discuss.”

“Oh General, don’t get her started on the greeks!” Siena faked a swoon, the back of her hand pressed to her brow as she deflated in her chair. “She truly won’t stop chattering if you do.”

The light behind his eyes shifted, the defensive fire from before becoming a curious simmer. “You’re well read.”

You chuckled unbecomingly into your wine. “You sound so surprised, General. Is it more shocking that I am beautiful or that I am a woman, as well as educated?”

Evidently taken aback, he took a moment to compose himself before responding, “I will admit that while both of those traits may make you… distracting, Miss Dean, they do not surprise me. I simply expected the future matron of these grounds to be more focused on her people, rather than a man’s education.”

“Are you accusing me of neglecting my duties, General Dameron?” Your sharp tone silenced the room.

He seemed as if he might be ill over the table before quickly recovering. In a soft voice, he said, “Of course not, Miss Dean.”

His grovelling could not quell the need in your gut to put him in his place. “I would hope not. Though I understand that perhaps the concept is foreign to a man such as yourself, women are more than capable of a trick known as multitasking.”

With a small, apologetic smile into his soup, the General ducked his head.

A rush of untapped power surged in you at his bowed head. You breathed deeply to keep from further injuring him, taking a bite of the soup in front of you.

It tasted of nothing. Chef had rarely disappointed in the years she’d worked for your family, so you were certain it must be you. The sourness of your exchange had need to be cleansed from your palate, perhaps.

A trip to Father’s study would do just the trick. And while you were there, you could brush up on your reading to ensure you were thoroughly prepared on the next occasion the General dared to test you.

“I do believe I am finished.” You pushed your seat back, standing and sweeping from the room without so much as a backward glance.

***

You clutched your skirts in one hand to keep from tripping as you ascended the long staircase that lead you up to your room, your nose in your book. The house was quiet. After your outburst at dinner, it couldn’t have been terribly comfortable to stay seated in that room.

Mrs Wex had not yet extinguished the candles that lined the hall, which left you to navigate in their dull glow. It wasn’t needed. You could have found your way to the room that had been yours since you were a child in the pitch dark. Or asleep. Or bound and barely able to move.

The violent thought was enough to stop you in your tracks. Perhaps it was time to put the books away and get some rest.

You turned down the hallway to the west wing, tucking your book under your arm. It was one that you’d read enough times to open and begin at any place without really missing any of the story, so you weren’t terribly worried about marking down the page number.

A shadow at the end of the hallway moved.

You didn’t have a chance to raise your book up to defend yourself or scream before the shadow held out his hands and stepped into the candlelight. “Miss Dean, it’s me.”

Your hand flew to your throat. “General Dameron,” The words were breathier than you intended, but you pressed on, whisper-shouting, “What exactly do you think you are doing?!”

The General’s sharp features stood out in the wavering light. His hands trembled. Quickly, he straightened himself and let his hands drop. “I was…” He glanced over his shoulder, back down the long hallway. You followed his gaze and noticed your door ajar. “I was searching for a servant. I hadn’t noticed how late it was, so I took care of my task myself.”

Before you could comment on the strange ‘coincidence’ of your room’s disturbance, you realized how close you were standing to him. Your gaze traced down the column of his throat, to the collar of his shirt that he had left unbutton, exposing his chest.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to look into his eyes. “It is not proper, General Dameron, for us to be alone together.”

He bowed, stepping away from you as if his proximity was the offending matter, not his presence itself. “I shall leave you then, Miss Dean. Goodnight.” With a slight duck of his head, he walked quickly to the end of the hall with his hands clutched tightly behind his back.

You gazed after him. He was a curious man, confident and near-boastful one moment, and almost shy the next. It certainly was not becoming of a General, who you would have more likely assigned the former description. It would not inspire confidence in men for them to witness their leader so bashful in the presence of a woman.

Once he was surely out of range, you entered your room. Everything was as it should be, nothing disturbed, aside from a folded square of parchment sitting atop the covers of your bed.

You unfolded it. The ink was still drying, but through the smudges, you read:

Dear Esteemed Host,

On behalf of myself and my colleague and friend, Lord Barnes—

In the margins, he had scrawled: Would he be as insistent on being address as Finn in the written form? I suppose we will not ever know.

You continued on reading.

On behalf of myself and my colleague and friend, Lord Barnes, I thank you for your most gracious invitation to reside with you for this tumultuous time in our lives. Though your mother is the owner of this property, I understand from your wonderful staff that it is you that truly manages the grounds, while your mother looks after your sisters, so I thought a formal thanks to be required.

I also think an apology is in order for my behaviour at dinner.

You had never known a man to apologize. For anything. You sat in the shock for a moment before returning to the letter.

I had not intended to offend, though I do believe this was the result of my actions. I truly look forward to further opportunity to hear of your studies and perhaps share some of what I have learned, should you wish to hear of it.

Your humble servant,

General Poe Dameron

You hadn’t known his name. Poe. He’d scrawled the characters messily, perhaps through force of habit. It fit somehow, warm on your tongue as you whispered his name into the night air.

Perhaps you could entertain his questioning. It couldn’t truly hurt. Could it?

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #mywriting #poe dameron fic #regency au #bridgerton au

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

Text

In Your Eyes. Yan Izaya x Reader [COMM]

warnings: izaya orihara counts as a warning if im being honest. dude’s a jerk. word count: 3k.

7:12 PM.

This isn’t the time of day that Izaya would normally close his services. Not when most of his clientele operate under the cover of night, crawling out from their day jobs and towards him. Izaya’s second monitor is a testimony to that. Message after message flooding in, notifications going ignored after a brief glance. The inquiries have a wide range. From a businessman wanting to know if the wife in his loveless marriage is cheating on him as he suspects, to the yakuza seeking information on a rival group that has been infringing on their territory. These people, deep as their pockets may be, occupy an insignificant role at the time.

Izaya’s eyes flicker to the live feed coming in from outside his apartment. One sight in particular catches his attention, his lips quirking into a self-satisfied smirk. He stands from the leather chair behind his desk, stretches, and makes for the kitchenette. There’s a spring in his every step as he walks, fingers running over a variety of untouched teas. Earl grey, matcha, chamomile. Chamomile might be best here, he thinks. Izaya busies himself with boiling the appropriate amount of water. Any second now, he just needs to be patient…

There’s a tentative knock on his door.

Izaya already anticipated having a most prized visitor paying him a visit. The door was unlocked in advance, but the excitement in his veins is making it difficult to decide on what approach to use. Calling over to come in, or answering the door himself…? He decides on the latter. Playing the indifferent game is growing tiresome. When he swings the door wide open, Izaya’s greeted by the sight of you. You must not have been expecting such a swift response, as a cute gasp leaves your lips. Ah, how endearing a sight.

Not one to stand in silence for long, he extends an enthusiastic greeting. “Ah, [First]-chan, what a lovely surprise. Come in, come in.”

You do as he instructs, an uncertain smile on your face. He notes how you scrutinize your surroundings. Eyes shifting to every wall, your posture remaining stiff as you remain focused on nothing in particular. After a moment of deliberation, your attention returns to him, and you bow your head.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” you let out a strained laugh, fixating on the soles of your shoes. “I’m sure you must be really busy, but, uh… I had some stuff I wanted to discuss. With you, that is.”

“You’re in luck then, as I’m not doing anything at the moment,” Izaya pauses at the high pitched sound that signifies his water is done boiling. From how easily startled you are by the noise, he almost wants to tease you. Not yet, he decides. There’ll be time for that later. “Would you like some tea?” You nod your head. “If it isn’t any trouble.”

He takes this time to recall the cryptic text message you sent him earlier. How much self restraint it took not to respond -- for the greater good, he reminds himself -- the contents catching his interest. You’ve been remaining purposefully vague. Is it to tantalize him? Keep him in the dark for some unknown reason? How interesting, the myriad of possibilities you bring to the table! Izaya’s own theories are plentiful. Hearing it from you beats anything his own imagination could concoct. It was a gamble that you’d actually come by today since he never responded, a test to see just how important this discussion is to you.

It must be vital if you took the train from Ikebukuro to Shinjuku to get here, as he’s aware you have classes tomorrow morning. The day after that is clear of any university activities if memory serves. This further proves the point to Izaya that whatever it is on your mind must be taking high priority. How his heart flutters at the thought, anticipation rising as he whips together the tea. Humans once again exercise their adaptability, moving along in new directions, with just a tiny push from him.

When he returns, cups of steaming tea in hand, you’ve already made yourself comfortable on his couch. Your legs crossed, hands clasping together on top of your lap. Izaya’s oncoming set up footsteps must not have been enough to alert you to his presence, so he clears his throat. Just like you did before, you startle, jumping in place. Izaya tuts at your reaction.

“It’s not good to keep zoning out like this, [First]-chan. What if you trip and hurt yourself on the way home? Now, I can’t be having that.” He teases while handing you your teacup. You wear a sheepish smile on your face, cheeks turning a rosy hue from his teasing. This might be the first time he’s ever seen you this out of it. Upon closer inspection, there are bags underneath your eyes, and your overall reaction time is sluggish. Hm…

Izaya takes a set beside you, likely closer than he needs to be, but you never protest. A loud sigh leaves your lips as you sink into his couch. “I sent you a text earlier, but I don’t think you ever saw it.”

He nods his head in confirmation. The chamomile seems to be working its wonders already, your shoulders slumping down further. Easing you up in his presence has never been a simple task.

“I’ve been thinking a lot recently,” you take another sip, wincing at how the hot liquid burns as it travels down your throat, “What I realized is that, maybe I do rely on others too much. When Miki went missing earlier this year, you said something similar, didn’t you? That there was a lot I couldn’t do. At the time, I didn’t want to believe you. I still don’t know if I do. So that’s why I wanted to ask if you still think that of me.”

So that’s what is haunting your mind? A budding identity crisis? He wasn’t expecting something as ordinary as this, feeling almost taken aback that you’d come to him on the topic. Maybe it’s hypocritical of him to think that way. He often finds himself thinking back to the first time you showed up at his office, replaying your words and expressions in his mind like a projector. It’s unlike Izaya Orihara to be a sentimental person, yet he recalls your first meeting with immense fondness.

- - -

Namie had almost dismissed you. She informed Izaya that there was no practical way you could afford these services, and that taking your appointment would be a waste of time for them both. A standard broke college student isn’t worth all the effort. And on a regular day, he would’ve been inclined to agree. Maybe it had been the boredom, as nothing of interest was brewing in Ikebukuro at the time. Whatever the reason, in retrospect, he’s grateful for the chance encounter.

“A missing person’s case?” Izaya glances down at the coffee table, where you’ve laid out numerous personal pictures. All featuring the same girl -- Yamato Miki -- who you’ve come here today to seek help for. The job feels familiar, while simultaneously being unlike anything he’s been asked for at the same time. Information for the whereabouts of unsavory folk isn’t a rare request. This falls into a different category. You’re not asking out of ill intent, or he would’ve picked up on that by now. You weren’t lying when you said you were worried about the wellbeing of your friend.

His eyes return to you shifting in your seat. “I’m curious. Why not go to the police about this instead of me?”

From how your nostrils flare, he can piece it together before you even verbalize a response. This is the first question of his to earn such a blatant reaction. Everything prior, you had responded to the best of your ability, trying to keep your emotions in check. You steady yourself with a deep breath.

“I’d gone plenty of times, and none of them seemed to care in the slightest! Miki… she has a bit of a record, you see. Nothing serious, she wouldn’t ever hurt anyone, just stuff haunting her from her teenage years,” your gaze lowers, fists clenching by your side. “Since she used to run away from home a lot, they think it’s something like that.”

Izaya sees the pieces of this puzzle falling into place. It’s been about ten minutes since you came in, explaining your story, and his interest is starting to wane. There’s nothing that sticks out to him as unique. Maybe giving you the time of day was a mistake after all, like Namie suggested. Still, the question remains, why go to him specifically? You, a seemingly upstanding citizen, must surely have better options.

He’ll entertain this charade a tad longer. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

“It’s not unreasonable to think that,” Izaya can’t help but agree with what the police had told you. The change in your demeanor is subtle, former timidity melting away. Greedy as it might be, he wants to see more of this unsightly side of you. So he continues prodding without relent. “People with troubled pasts such as your friend have next to impossible odds to overcome.”

Your jaw’s clenching, he can see the imprints of how hard your fingernails dig into the palm of your hands. It’s simple to play someone like you to his own tune, he muses. Izaya just about had his fill of this. Maybe he’ll put a last nail in the coffin for good measure. Will you curse at him? Explode and yell? Break down crying? Storm off without a word?

“Chances are, she got in way over her head, and is currently laying dead in an alley somewhere. Or maybe she is somehow alive! In that case, what will you do then? If she couldn’t rely on you, her supposedly closest friend, why do you think that is? She either doesn’t trust you as much as you thought, or was taking advantage of your kindness all along.” Izaya can’t help the smile that curls onto his lips. Now that’s the look of despair he wanted! Being confronted with a fate you knew all along, and yet tried so hard to ignore. Only to fail, to be drawn into a vulnerable position of reality--

“So what?” The tone of your voice is eerily collected. You take a deep breath, glassy eyes refusing to break contact with his own, a sense of resolve keeping you in tact. Izaya tilts his head at this conjecture, as if to invite you to elaborate further.

“So what if she might be as bad as you say she is? Miki is my friend. I don’t care for some arbitrary method of judging people based only on possibilities. I’ll see the truth for my own eyes and decide myself.”

Well… to be honest, he was expecting an entirely different reaction. For you to scold someone like him is borderline laughable, yet here you are, doing just that. So why does he find himself even more drawn to you than before? There’s been passion ignited inside you by his own hands, social etiquette thrown to the wayside. Instead of letting this newly lit fire run rampant, you control the flame, refusing to burn as he intended you to. Izaya Orihara has never been one to back down from a challenge. Maybe this isn’t a waste of time after all.

Izaya leans in, resting his temple on his fist. “Pray tell, [First]-chan, what would you do in the event that I’m right? And your precious friend is involved with stuff she shouldn’t be?”

“I’ll give her a good wakeup slap,” you place a finger to your cheek, considering the proposition. “Then chew her out for making me worry as much as she has. In the end, I want her to know that she can come to me with anything, even the worst she has to offer. That’s what friends are for.”

A mindset like this is idealistic to say the least. Optimism has never been a field Izaya has excelled in, as he bases things on concrete reality. Is that even the correct label for your way of thinking, he wonders? You’re not ignoring the possible truth, making excuses for her, or even considering enabling her poor behavior. No, it’s a strikingly unusual approach, that takes far more patience than most people have to offer. The shift in outward demeanor from soft-spoken to this unrivaled confidence backs it up further.

Izaya wants to know more about you. To peer behind the curtain that is your mind, poking and prodding at everything within reach. Seeing how much you can withstand before falling apart at his hands. It looks like you were wrong Namie, he thinks. This is turning out to be interesting.

“If that’s the case, I’ll lend you my help.”

You blink. “Y-you will…? But you just went on a tangent about how my ‘deadbeat’ friend isn’t worth the effort.”

“What can I say? Your impassioned speech tugged on my heartstrings, [First]-chan,” he coos, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “Maybe I’m growing soft after all. Alright, now let’s start with you giving me your phone number--”

“Hold on!” you exclaim, putting up a hand. “I don’t need help from someone like you.”

Now it’s his turn to be thrown off by another person’s words. Maybe a taste of my own medicine, he thinks.

Here he was, figuring you’d grovel at his feet for help. Now that he’s extending a hand out of what you should perceive as goodwill, you… don’t want it…? There’s no quick, witty response. The cogs in his head are turning, trying to comprehend this bizarre situation, and coming up with nothing satisfactory. He hears what’s most definitely Namie struggling to cover up a laugh in the distance.

“Were you not just trying to convince me?” Izaya quirks up an eyebrow. That’s how he perceived your earlier lecture, as a way to bring him over to your side. For a rare moment, there’s no condescending lilt in his voice, only a genuine attempt to rationalize your actions.

You’re already moving on from this loss, picking the scattered pictures up and returning them to your handbag. “Not really. I just didn’t like the thought of you looking down on someone without really knowing anything about them.”

This time, Namie isn’t capable of muffling her laughter. Izaya sighs as he leans back into his couch. How troublesome you’re proving yourself to be. Do you not realize that a few phone calls from his behalf would be enough to ruin you for the rest of your life? Or maybe you do realize, and don’t care either way. Whatever the case, he’s not letting this go. It’s not everyday someone manages to leave him at a loss for words.

“So it’s back to the police then, hm?”

You shake your head at his guess, frowning. “I’ll just figure it out on my own. Thank you for your time, Orihara-san.”

Now you’re standing to leave. Turning your back to him, you make for the door, leaving Izaya to try and piece together what’s happening to him. Izaya follows after you, intent on changing your mind. Anything to keep you close so he can continue observing.

“What exactly are you planning on doing? It sounded to me like you had no leads or connections. I’m not sure how familiar you are with investigation work, [First]-chan, but you’re not off to a very good start.” Izaya calls over, successfully getting you to stop in place. It’s a relief to know he hasn’t lost his touch. You don’t look fully convinced, so he continues on.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re going to be helpless all on your own,” Izaya points out, your grimace growing deeper with every word. He’s getting somewhere, he just needs to reel you back in. “We wouldn’t want my earlier premonition to come true.”

“I guess so,” you agree without enthusiasm, lips pursing. Izaya can’t help but feel satisfied with your compliance. Then you continue walking towards the door. “I need to give it some more thought. I’ll call your secretary this evening.”

With that, you’re out of sight, the door shutting in his face. Hm. He doesn’t get the feeling you’re acting like this out of spite. No, you’re sticking true to your own convictions, trying to get a feel for how to best work things out. Izaya’s already planning to run multiple checks on you. He has a growing curiosity for knowledge on you that needs to be quenched. What school you’re going to, where you currently live, if you have a record--

“I can’t say I was expecting that,” Namie comments in her usual monotone. From the skin tightening underneath her eyes, Izaya can tell she’s still fighting back a smile. “Someone turning down your offer to help and lecturing you? I almost feel undeserving of such a wonderful sight.”

Izaya sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. “I’m glad you enjoyed your boss being berated so much.”

“There’s almost nothing better,” she concurs with a nod. “When you’re finished standing there and moping, I already brought her social media up. I figured you’d want to see it after that display.”

This is enough to capture his undivided attention. The boredom from this week is a relic of the past, Izaya’s enthusiasm for human beings returning in full bloom. What a terrifying beast you’ve managed to awaken. You’ll make for a fascinating source of entertainment. He already finds himself looking forward to the next time you cross paths, Izaya confident in his ability to make this happen. He excels at interrupting the flow of people’s lives unprompted.

- - -

The rest is history, so they say.

Izaya’s whittled you down this far, creating a codependency that pleases him, a result of hard work on his behalf. You stare at him with doe-like eyes. Vulnerable eyes. Waiting with bated breath to see if he’ll confirm or deny your deepest concerns.

He wraps an arm around your slouching shoulder. "Now that you have me, what you are or aren’t capable of on your own doesn’t matter anymore. Isn’t that right, [First]-chan?”

“I... I guess it might be.”

#btw the title for this fic is just a reference to the weeknd #the lyrics felt somewhat fitting...#i kept listening to it when writing this #izaya #Izaya Orihara #orihara izaya #jojo's bizarre adventures #yandere izaya #yandere #yandere x reader #durarara #durarara imagine #yandere durarara #durarara x reader #yandere imagine #yandere scenario #my stuff #commissions

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catsplushellhounds · 3 years ago

Text

favorite headcanons (and theorys?) of glee that i created

i was thinking if i really was going to write this, but im bored so lets go, this got so long and i am so sorry (not really it was fun and i liked it, if you like big metas you probably gonna like this)

*this can have some triggers for some people because i will be talking about bullying, abandonment, depression and violence*

(also i would like to say that most of this are things that i like to believe happened, and idk if the rest of the fandom agrees or if someone said it before and this is all blaine related, i left it glee on the title because it sounded better idk)

- blaine's dad is filipino and he left after blaine came out

i know that blaine said he was there in shooting stars, but hear me out

first of all, to me his name is tod anderson, dont ask me why it just makes sense and i like how it sounds.... so

in sexy, blaine tells burt that his dad tried many times bonding with him, but apparently that didnt work, because he also says "you think my dad built a car with me because he loves cars? i think he did it because he thought getting my hands dirty might make me straight." and after 4x18, he is never mentioned again? and he wasnt on his son's wedding too

so my theory here is that he never accepted that blaine is gay, and all of his "efforts of bonding" were actually because he thought he could "fix" blaine, and when that didnt worked he left, (that also explains blaine's abandonment issues) but he did came back im the shooting episode because he felt guilty for what he did, but after he saw it was a false alarme he went back on pretending he didnt have a gay son

to be really honest sometimes i pretend that his dad wasnt on the shooting day because i feel that it doesnt fit that well into this and i really like this one because its kinda obvious to me that blaine have daddy issues??? so usually i just put on my character-backstory that blaines dad left after he came out and never came back

for the first year that he was gone, blaine spended every night trying to contact him. sometimes he just texted, but most of the times he called and left a message crying begging him to come back and tell him what he'd done that made his father hate him so much, his dad never called or texted back

- blaine's parents

(im not sure if this is canon but blaine's mom is named pam)

i know that technically i've already talked about blaine's family when i was talking about his dad but that is so complex i felt i had to do a topic exclusive for that

i believe blaine has and always had a good relationship with his mother, yes she was usually gone because she works selling a really famous cosmetic line she created (to me the andersons are a really known name) that would explain how blaine could study in a school like dalton (he said so himself that dalton isnt a school that anyone could afford), and why she is never there

but despite her being busy with her job, she always tried to keep im touch with blaine, texting him, and calling and skyping

blaine always missed her, but he tried to not make her feel guilty about working too much, because she loves her job

sometimes he got really depressed, because he wished she could be there to see him sing with his friends, or just be there so that he could hang out with his mom like all of his friends did with their parents

his das was a businessman, i dont know why it just fits to me, also idk what kind of business because i dont understand any of it so thats up to imagination

before he came out, he and his dad were super close, sure his dad a lot of the time was busy but he was at home more than his mom, his dad was the one that introduced him to liking sports, and they always watched games together (cooper would join in too) and his dad always let him have a sip of his beer, blaine always loved those moments and his dad was like a hero to him, he was sure that coming out to him would be easy, because he would love him no matter what

all of the andersons have always been brodway babys, all 4 of them liked to sing, tod was a little bit more serious and didnt dance around the house like cooper, blaine and pam but he enjoyed seeing them having fun

the andersons were like the perfect family of the neirbourhood, all 4 of them are very good looking, talented and educated so yes everybody thought they were perfect

they all lived in the philippines until blaine was 5, and then moved to ohio because tod got a really good job offer there

after blaine came out, his parents argued A LOT. tod would ask himself and pam of what he had done wrong and pam would say its nobodys fault and thats just how blaine is

(to me that was the time tod was revealed to be an asshole and not long after he divorced pam and stoped talking to all of them, except for cooper, he and cooper still talked)

- blaine's bullying

the bullying blaine went through was a lot like kurt's, people laughing at him, shoving him around, beating him up, etc

he tried putting a brave face through it but he started losing all of his light, even more when all of his complains didnt matter at all

it only got sort of better when he met skylar (thats the kid he went to sadie hawkings with, i read in a fic that was his name and stuck with me so im calling him skylar)

skylar was going through the same thing he was, and one time blaine saw him getting shoved at lockers, and helped him pick up his books and thats were they started talking

maybe they liked each other, they never got to find out because after the bash, skylar never spoke to blaine again

blaine was in a 2 week coma after getting beat up, and the first thing he said when he woke up was "where's my dad" and his mom had to gently tell him his das was not there. that was when blaine realized he actually meant nothing to his dad and that broken him even more

he was bashed about 3 months after his father left him, and for the rest of that school year he was homeschooled by a teacher his mother hired

- blaine joining dalton and the warblers

so, since blaine is a year younger than kurt, in my head goes sorta of like this

he came out when he was 13, that was the time he was bullied, beaten up abandoned and homeschooled, and he joined dalton when he was 14, but to be a warbler he had to be a little older than that, so he had to audition to join (im guessing you dont have to audition to be a warbler, just to have a lead, i mean kurt didnt auditioned, right?) and and trent auditioned together, they became friends and were roomates (dalton is a boarding school DONT @ ME EVERYBODY KNOWS ITS TRUE)

it took blaine a while to take the step to audition, because he was still scared, but wes and david helped him and gave him a little seed of the confidence he pretends to have later on, but when he sang for the warblers for the first time they were all blowed away by how good was his singing voice even if he was only 14

after he felt comfortable in the warblers, he became friends with nick and jeff, and they were a trio of dumbassess, wes and david (usually the most mature of all the warblers) sighed everytime they saw nick, jeff and blaine doing something stupid

trent joined in sometimes but he always had been a really chill dude, and he saw blaine as a older brother (even tho blaine is younger than him)

jeff, nick and blaine pulled pranks on wes and david like hiding stuff from them and act all inocent when they asked if they saw said thing

the warblers had a bet going on how long would it take for kurt and blaine to start dating (and yes all of them shipped klaine, and even after kurt and blaine went to mckinley the warblers still kept hearing about them and seeing them on jacob ben israel's blog)

jeff, nick, trent, wes and david were the only real friends blaine had there

wes and david has already gratuated when the slushie happened, and nick, jeff and trent all apologized to blaine after that (even though they had no idea that was gonna happen) but their friendship was never the same

- blaine and cooper's relationship

as we know, blaine and cooper didnt got very along when blaine was growing up, cooper is 9 years older than blaine, and has always been really hard on him and thaat made blaine really dislike cooper, even tho he really wanted for them to be friends, he always has bitter feelings towards him duo to all of the pressure and expectation he was under because cooper was the oldest, and blaine felt like he had to be just as good or better than him, so he also had a lot A LOT of jealousy

but that started to change after "big brother", when they talk things out, cooper finally realizes how blaine feels, and starts doing his best to be best brother to blaine

they dont become besties immediatly, blaine helps him with his audition (which makes kurt really proud and happy seeing cooper being all excited talking to blaine, while blaine is trying to pretend like hes cool but actually hes just as excited), and they start to talk more and more after that

after finn dies is when they start getting actually close, after the funeral, he calls cooper but dosent say the reason why, he just says that he loves him and that he misses his big brother, they call and talk to each other a lot more after cooper finds out about finn

when cooper has a son, he and blaine teach the little guy how to dance and they play a lot of happy and fun piano songs to him

- the anderhummel family

blaine and burt are actually really close, they both like sports and beer so they watch games together and bet about whos gonna win, burt sorta of became the dad blaine lost, but in a non weird way, because they both agreed that blaine calling burt "dad" after he married kurt was just... weird

finn and blaine played a lot of videogames together, sam and puck played with them too, but when kurt was helping on dinner or more interested in a magazine or trying to convince carole to let him do a makeover on her, finn and blaine played videogames and maybe sometimes gossip about kurt and rachel (after he became besties with sam he did that same thing but hey playing videogames and talking about your s/o is fun!)

carole took care of blaine when he was in the hospital for the eye surgery, and when he was hangover at kurt's after biota she helped him with all the vomiting and headaches and all of that

pam met carole and burt when blaine got slushied, blaine was already like family to the hudson-hummels at that point, so when burt found out what happened he ran to the hospital, (carole was already working there anyway) and thats where they met, it wasnt ideal and all of them wete stressed and worried but they got along pretty well

pam, burt and carole werent really close since pam was usually out working, but the few times they sat down to talk to each other they really liked. pam thinks burt and carole are a sweet couple, that raised two wondeful boys and burt and carole think that pam is a sweet and funny lady, they all exchanged embarassing stories about kurt and blaine (that made them go "MOM DONT TELL THEM THAT" or "DAS STOP I WAS 7")

pam absolutely adores kurt, he was fascinated when he found out she had a line of cosmetics and spended hours talking to her about skincare routines

blaine can always make carole laugh, she thinks hes a sweetheart and usually keeps burt from bursting into the room when the door of kurts bedroom is closed ("i told them already, leave at least 2 inches open, is that really so hard??" "honey, relax they're just watching a movie" "im going in there" "no you're not leave the boys alone")

burt has walked in a few times on klaine making out on the couch and he always makes a joke about it to not make it awkward

burt was thrillled to know he was gonna be a grandpa, and he spoils tracy anderson to OBLIVION (blaine doesnt argues because he sorta of does the same thing)

even after both breakups, burt and blaine had always kept in touch, maybe it wasnt what it used to be when he and kurt were still mad at each other, but once they go back being friends, blaine is a little more comfortable in hangin out with the hudson-family

- blaine's depression in s6

i think is canon thay blaine had depression and anxiety during the whole show, right? it just got worse in s6 because kurt breaking up with him was sort of what pulled the trigger

it begun when his father neglected him, and it only got worse and worse, he was abandoned by his father and sometimes felt like by his mother and brother too, he had anxiety and it got worse after sadie hawkings, then kurt and him broke up for the first time, and he kept bottling it all up until it all reached the boiling point and it all exploded when kurt broke up with him

(side note, i think that when kurt started pulling away from him in s6, it reminded him of his dad pulling away too, his dad tried to bond with him but i feel that as harder blaine tried to make his dad stay, didnt matter and his dad kept pulling away until he was gone, that makes a parallel to s6 breakup, and why blaine was trying so SO hard to make kurt stay, because he had been there before, and he wasnt good enough for his dad, and he really wanted to be good enough for kurt)

so, after they breakup, blaine stays in a cheap hotel, not getting out of bed and feeling empty inside, his phone buzzed a little with missing calls from his friends but at some point the batery died and he just ignored, he only charged after 2 days because he probably had to let people know he's still alive

he went back to the loft in the afternoon, because he knew kurt wouldn't be there, he was going away and leaving nothing behind when kurt showed up, blaine was kinda of embarassed because he was probably stinking and his hair and clothes were a mess

im not sure if they talked at all after the breakup night, but i kinda feel that blaine might have said to kurt something like "you think i'm broken? when are gonna realize the problem here isnt just me? i should have known, everytime things get serious and scary between us you run, you're so afraid of something and honestly i have no idea of what, please just stay away from me" (i dont knooow he was angry and being all cold to kurt and shit i think that happened and maybe thats what made kurt go to therapy)

he got kicked out of nyada because he didnt left his hotel room for anything other than food, and he felt even more lost after receiving the email saying he was no longer a student there, thats when he decided to go back to lima

in lima, he barely left his room, he didnt ate for days and when he wasnt crying he was sleeping, his friends would call, text and sometimes try to visit him but he never texted back, answered the calls or opened the doors for them, sam was the only one that had some success because he was living in lima too and could go to blaine's house more often, sometimes he got lucky and blaine would open the door for him

at first he tried to do pep talks to help his bestie get better, but nothing helped so at one point he just sat there with blaine and did nothing with him, because at least like that he wouldnt be alone

one day blaine felt a little better and started trying to be okay again, it was never easy but he got a job at breadsticks, and even tho he would much rather be in his bed he kept working because at least like that his mind was busy with something

after he started therapy, he still felt empty inside, the world was still sorta of grey to him and he didnt felt like doing anything, so he had to take meds for that, and kept taking them even after kurt cane back (but as blaine was getting better they slowly became less and less needed)

when blaine started working at dalton, he was already in a much better place that he was when he came back, and throughout s6 he was still battling depression, and wasnt always okay, sometimes he would still want to just be alone and dont talk to anybody or do anything, and if that happened when he was surronded with people he would just be more quiet, that sometimes got rachel and kurt's attention, because they're not used to this "new" blaine and when they asked him if he was doing okay he would just say "yeah, im just tired" sam later on explained to them what that usually meant, it meant that blaine needed some alone time because he was draining himself a lot

- blaine at nyada vs blaine at nyu

soooo i have a good theory about this one, at nyada blaine was constantly surronded by people who would probably kill someone to get at the top, to be the best

and was such a competitive place, that ended up being toxic for blaine. i used to think that he didnt fit there because he always was one of the best in show choir and dalton and he was always *that* guy, but now i think he didnt fit there because actually he dosent like competition that much

okay, sure, playful competiton with your friends its fun, show choir competiton is fun, fighting with tina, mercedes, rachel, santana and unique about solos was fun because it was serious but he was with his friends so okay, whatever

but the competition they had at nyada was just SO MUCH, and lets agree nyada is kinda of a toxic place in general, people made fun of kurts face and clothing there, rachel's "friends" ditched her when she lost the diva off to kurt and started kissing up to him, and (im not sure about this one but like 99%) people laughed when blaine lost to kurt at combat's class

my point is, in nyada, people only like you if you do well in classes, there's a lot of lying and backstabbing going on and c'mon blaine pratically grew up like this with cooper

always not good enough, always behind, always made fun of, never being great at anything, so maybe thats why blaine felt so stressed at nyada, and why he gets so insecure in 5x16, seeing kurt being praised and getting all of that attention might have reminded him of the years he and cooper didnt get along so well

he didnt found himself at nyada, mostly he was there because it was said to be the best school and rachel and kurt were there, so great, right?

but i get the feeling that at nyu things were a little lighter, not easier, but lighter, it didnt had so much toxic people, it wasnt a place where it was kill or be killed, people helped each other when needed and yes there was still competition, obviously but (almost) nobody made fun of people for failing

(i said almost there because im sure there was some douchbags there too, they're everywhere, but i hope you got my point)

- blaine's friendships

i am almost done i am so sorry this is so long i've been here for like 2 hours

i have some small headcanons about blaine's friends, because we did NOT get enough of his friendships (im leaving kurt out of this one because maybe one day ill do a meta/hc/theory about klaine....... maybe)

mike and blaine were besties on s3

they both like to dance and sometimes they+brittany would do a dance number together, sometimes for the glee club to see, sometimes only to themselves because thats fun

mike talked with blaine after the its not right but its okay number to see what happened and if he was okay (actually it was mostly blaine just venting about it "AND THEN HE SAID HE WANTED TO MAKE KURTS VOICE HIS RINGTONE I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK????????")

blaine talked to mike about mike's dad because he knew what mike was going through and they both agreed thay family sucks sometimes

after mike graduated he and blaine kept têxtil each other and sometimes sending gifs or videos of dance moves to each other

santana and blaine were actually really good friends

after the glee club found out about what santana's grandmother had done when she came out, when they were alone blaine told santana about his dad, even tho he was afraid she was gonna tell everyone because he doesnt like talking about it, just so that she would know that shes not alone and its not her fault, santana never once teased or told anyone about this, she always sorta of liked him and thought he was nice but that moment she started seeing him as a friend

while preparing for the new directions vs warblers in 3x11, santana tried helping blaine bring out his inner bad boy, she helped him pick his outfit and they planned together the whole performance

(im stealing this one from a post i rebloged i guess a day ago? i didnt found the blog to tag but this is the post) > santana and blaine are friends on facebook, and follow each other on twitter and instagram, and they always spam on each others profiles because they're comfortable to do that with each other

santana kinda sees blaine as a male version of brittany, so she has this need of protecting him (which is kinda why she was super invested in getting him justice for his eye)

speaking of his eye, when he was at home before surgery, santana went there and told that she was gonna make sebastian confess what he'd put on thr slushie, blaine asked her how she knew where she lived but she cut him off, she also came back there after and told him everything, and she and kurt asked him what he wanted to do about it

brittany and blaine really were sunshine twins

they always liked each other, blaine didnt get her at first, but he got used to it

she always talked to him about cats, and what lord tubbington was up to, she tried inviting him to fondue for 2 but he knew that she would ask some really private questions so he always came up with an excuse

after he almost went back to dalton, she (alongside with tina, sam and marley) tried to make him feel as welcome as possible

when she was dating sam, sometimes the three of them would go to her house after school and cuddle in her bed with lord tubbington while watching a movie

when britt was planning their weddings, she asked blaine to try up some suits (with the excuse that she wasnt sure the one she picked was right), but she asked him that like a day after he kissed kurt at rachels party so she could tell he was kinda sad and asked him why, he told her and she said it was gonna be okay because their love was magical (it was weird but it did made blaine feel good, so...) she was also the only person he told that

blaine and britt always have ideas like "we should totally put glitter in the entire room to celebrate our wedding aniversary!" kurt and santana shut down the idea at the same time

blamtina were like 3 chaotic brothers

sam and blaine would have a dumb idea that would result in absolute chaos (but funny tho) and tina always plays along with them even if she thinks its a bad idea

the three of them are completely harry potter nerds, sam and blaine are hufflepuffs while tina is a ravenclaw, in a halloween party in s4 they went as the golden trio

after graduation, sam and blaine still skyped tina and told her all about ny, and she would tell them all about her collage

sam kept his promise of sending his imitations to tina and blaine sometimes would call her to vent about a fight he and kurt had

blaine read all of the harry potter books to sam

after sam talked blaine into staying at mckinley, sam and tina would always be with blaine, always talking to him, and spending time with him, thats how the 3 of them got so close

marley and blaine were good friends

when marley joined the new directions, blaine was one of the first to make her feel welcome

when blaine almost left for dalton, she tried make him see that she liked him in the nd too, and would randomly start talking to him so that he wouldnt feel alone

she would rant about jake to him sometimes, like how he wanted to have sex but she wasnt ready, and blaine told her she should do it only when she felt comfortable

after she got suspended, he apologized for yelling at her because of the performance, and remembered mr schue that she was recovering from an eating desorder and that he shouldnt be so hard at her

unique and blaine were "frenemies"

they started off not liking each other, since they both wanted it to be the new rachel, even after blaine won, he and unique still were kinda competitive with each other

but eventually they became sort-of-friends, they sang together sometimes when no one else was there, and they liked to pretend to not like each other but yes they did and it was just their thing

sometimes marley would do a sleepover and she would call blaine, unique and tina, while marley was talking about jake or tina was talking about missing mike, blaine would braid unique's wig and she would try to convince him to let her see his hair without gel

when the whole plot of unique and the bathroom happened, when mr schue told everyone he couldnt give up twerking, blaine stood up for unique saying that wasnt fair and mr schue should try harder to help her, he also held her hand (alongside with marley) when she was scared of having to go to the bathroom again

blaine and mercedes talked to each other more than twice :O

lol ok im not sorry for that title

mercedes and blaine LIVED together people, she used to be kurts best friend, and sams girlfriend are you telling me they barely talked to each other? no

in fact, they really like each other's company, blaine is kinda of a goofball and mercedes thinks its funny

he would ask her to talk to sam when blaine wanted something from him, and mercedes did the same with kurt

sam and blaine would do stupid things together (like dance around their house in their underwear) just to make mercedes laugh, they swore to never tell anyone, and they never did

sometimes at 3 am when no one could sleep they would all have a little dance party until they got tired

blaine and mercedes are junky food addicts, they eat healthy and stuff but they love some cake at 5 in the morning

one time when kurt and mercedes were arguing about the tots, blaine sided with mercedes and told her he agreed that tots are delicious

#ok i think thats it #if you read it until the end.... are you okay?#i had some more but i want to post this today and i want to go to sleep so lets leave it like that #maybe i should have splitted in 2 parts???? its so long 😳#i hope this didnt get to tiring to read #anywayyyyy #glee #blaine meta #blaine anderson #blangst #ps if you see some mispelling ignore it im kinda sleepy so... hehe

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maskyartist · 4 years ago

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yall gettin Gelato feelings now cause im emotional about them

- Roman is NOTORIOUS for spoiling Neo as much as he possibly can. The two knew each other since they were kids, growing up on the streets, so Roman knew Neo enjoyed window shopping for rather nice things. Expensive things. By the time Roman began getting paid quite handsomely for his crimes, he made it a point to let Neo play with they money however she liked (within reason), because he wanted her to have the things she never got to have but always wanted. Things like nice clothes, jewelry, dinners, anything she wants.

- On the other hand, while Roman enjoys spoiling Neo with the high, expensive life she never got to have, Neo enjoys spoiling Roman with small little affections. Roman was always one to put on such a big, grandeous act that the little things like small kisses on the back of the hand or palm, or hugs from behind meant so much more to him then you’d ever imagine. It’s the little things that make him happy, and Neo can provide those little things, so anytime they’re alone she does it with gusto.

- While you wouldn’t think these two could be affectionate on the job, it’s actually quite the opposite! It’s just not in the way you’d think. They don’t need to outwardly speak their affections to get it across. All they need to do is look at each other, and the point will stand. One glance is all they need to know they’re not alone in this, and that things will turn out okay.

- Neo and Roman ended up learning sign language together, going through libraries to pick up the language so the two could have essentially their own language when it came to dangerous situations. After awhile, some, if not most signs became custom ones the two know wouldn’t be too easily deciphered. Things for quick plans and changes during a job site. (Roman was the one who suggested just using the finger over the neck for “kill” from now on. Gets the point across faster.) It works surprisingly well for the two of them. Maybe all draw it, but Roman’s name signed by Neo is simple, just the letter R against her lips like she’s smoking a cigar.

- the amount of nicknames Roman has for Neo are too many to count. Of course he loves saying her name alone, he did choose it for her so he does love saying it, but he’s a flair kind of guy! Of course he’s gonna give her nicknames! His favorites are “doll”, “darling”, “sweetheart”, and “babydoll”. Neo doesn’t have nicknames for Roman per-say, she just has her little affections that get his attention. Though she does enjoy signing “sweetie”, “baby” and “sunshine” to him. Rarely, but she’ll do it.

- Roman enjoys praising Neo left and right. Often times he’ll make a show or tell her how useful her work is, how wonderful he thinks she is, that she looks positively stunning, etc etc. it always makes her blush, no matter what she tries to stop it. Before she would get flustered but now she just rolls her eyes at him and his antics.

- These two are essentially an old married couple in the sense that they bicker back and forth over the most simple of things yet never mean a single word of it. Bickering is just what they do. It’s dumb and funny and they always dissolve into giggles and dumb smiles by the end.

- They certainly aren’t the most conventional romance in the world. Sparring is often considered date night, aside from dinners and movies of course, as well as particularly dangerous jobs merely getting the blood pumping for more...interesting activities later on. They live and breath the criminal life style, so their romance has sort of...molded around that. They’re the kind of criminal lovers who slowdance to music in a pile of bodies, or kiss after setting a building aflame and stick behind for a little while just to watch it burn.

- Roman adores how short Neo is. He loves their height difference. Not only because he’s taller then her, but because it’s so much easier to hold her like this. It’s easy to pick Neo up and carry her off to bed so she doesn’t overwork herself or stay up all night fretting. Neo, on the other hand, despises their height difference and fully believes if she were taller she’d get more bang for her buck. It’s a struggle to kiss Roman half the time, and the other half it’s the easiest thing in the world, which makes her wonder why the hell it was so hard the last time?! Though, she does love that, regardless of height, Roman always pulls away from work for her. He’ll sit at that planning desk of his and plot for hours on plans around plans in case anything goes wrong, and by the end he’ll have worked himself into a tizzy. Neo knows when to pull him away from work and into her arms.

- They both get nightmares, and have different ways of handling it together, but somehow it always ends up with Neo’s face in Roman’s chest and Roman holding her as close as possible. A reminder that they’re both okay. That no matter what the world throws at them, no matter who hurts them or how hurt they are, they will always be together. They’re each others constant, a force that will always be in their lives. It’s perfect.

- Contrary to popular belief, Roman actually used to be a huge crybaby. Neo knew when he would get really emotional, he’d just start crying because he didn’t know what else to do. Nowadays? He’s shoved that down very deep. The criminal world is cruel, and any sign of weakness will get you chewed up and spat out without hesitation. Roman only ever feels safe crying with Neo, because he knows she is the only person who would never hurt him. He lets himself be vulnerable with her. For her. Because if Roman can cry to Neo, then Neo can cry to Roman.

- At the end of the day, these two have been together through thick and thin. Through all the good times, the bad times, even the horrible times. But they always find each other again. Love was easy, an obvious next step, since they’ve always loved each other. It just took awhile to pin down those emotions. They are the one thing that keeps them happy in this world, and by gods will they fight to keep that alive. “It’s not what I have to gain! It’s what I can’t afford to lose.”

- also Roman’s the bottom, Neo’s the top, and I don’t accept criticism when I’m clearly right.

#masky says #rwby #rwby headcanons #rwby shipping #rwby gelato #roman torchwick #neopolitan #neo politan #rwby neo #rwby roman

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tinycoffeebarbarian · 3 years ago

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A Cold Cup Of Memories

“Wake up, my love.”

Naresh Yadav opened his eyes on a sunny Tuesday morning. And knew he was going to die.

He was not ill. The man’s cigar had just burnt out. Sunlight filtered through the blue embroidered curtains Avi had picked out for their house. The blue and white checkered lantern atop the bedside table glowed happily. Naresh switched it off.

With the ease one only achieves by doing something daily, Yadav brushed, showered, and then changed into his work clothes. And like he had done for the last twenty-two years, made himself some upma for breakfast. When he was done, Naresh’s hands turned to make a cup of coffee. Soon the bittersweet smell of the wretched beverage snaked around the room.

He sipped the drink and winced, too less sugar. Avi had always known better.

But Avi would never make coffee again.

Because Avi was dead.

His husband was dead.

Dead.

Naresh sat down near the steps of his front porch. A line of ants walked past.

Boop.

The ants bumped against each other, seeming to adoringly bumble around, Avi used to point at them and give them voices and entertain him when he was feeling a bit down in the dumps.

One of his favorites was when he had given a small little black ant that seemed to keep going off the path a cute British accent.

“Oh, Im terribly sorry! Im just a terrible klutz, please do pardon me. Oh dear--- oH GOD!”

And then they had decided that the ant behind was his wife and was just about done with the ant’s aNtics (yes, his husband had actually said that).

“Oh, John would you stop with the lollygagging already! The children are alone with that nanny, I don’t want to leave them with her for more time than necessary. Oh, for heavens’ sake! Do get a move on!”

The forty-five-year-old man was smiling.

And then, the lonely widower was crying.

He hated this drink.

He hated the cold side of their bed.

He hated the stupid empty Minions cup.

He hated the love of his life for dying.

He hated cancer.

He hated the hollowness.

Back when they were still dating, he remembered asking his love.

“ Why the hateful vile drink? It’s so bitter. Won’t a milkshake get the job done?”

Avi had taken his hand, (something that had sent wild chills up Naresh’s hand) smiled at him, and told him.

“ It reminds me, that even something so bitter and unlovable like coffee, with the right ingredients, can become something so sweet. It reminds me, of us. It reminds me of how I thought that someone as unlovable as me would never ever have anyone to love me, but how here I am, clutching your hand, grinning at you.”

Yadav had known then, looking at Avi’s eyes, he would marry him.

His chest was empty. Nothing left to give. It was so hard to breathe. His lips trembled.

Tears still flowed. A river with no beginning, no end, no relief, just, pain. And the ghost of the smell of his lover’s soap. But that sadly, my readers, was just Naresh’s imagination.

He got up. The Lawyer then cleaned his face. The watch read 3:00 PM. He had sat on the same spot for eight hours.

His coffee had grown cold.

The diagnosis had come one year ago.

The sadness and medicines had followed.

Stage IV abdominal cancer.

Metasstazided in every single organ in the surrounding area.

Malignant.

Inoperable.

He had held Avi’s hand like he always did.

Avi had smiled and said it would be okay.

Avi didn’t carry his husband from room to room every day for a year.

Avi didn’t see his husband regularly wince in pain.

Because Avi was dying.

He remembered the first week of their marriage.

He had woken up smiling.

So had Avi.

Everything had seemed ethereal.

They had gone to make breakfast. And Avi was making his horrible favorite drink. Except he wasn’t using the Coffee Maker or filter Naresh had bought for him. He was simply putting the coffee and sugar into the cup with a few droplets of water and mixing them.

“ You know….. we both earn quite a lot, I think we can afford the electricity the machine will use.”

Avi had sheepishly smiled at him.

“I like making it like this. The other methods always seemed a bit too easy, doesn’t make it feel like an accomplishment anymore. Also, are you telling me you can get this froth with that machine, can you?”

That part he agreed with. His husband’s coffee always had a fantastic layer of froth on it, something he could never achieve whenever he made the drink. When asked about it, Avi just winked and told him he just put a generous dollop of love, nothing else. Naresh used to roll his eyes at that. Now, he would give everything for a chance to see that wink again.

The tears were back.

This time, coughing held their hands while walking in.

Avi had progressively grown thinner. Weaker. His handsome face, once full of strength, became a pale copy. His body, once lined with powerful muscles, withered away.

Within seven months, his lovely brilliant caring man turned into a husk of his former glory.

Yadav saw it all. And stayed with him till the end.

The clock now read 10:00 PM.

For reasons unbeknownst to him, the Lonely Man picked his cold cup of memories and walked back to his bedroom.

As he slid into his bed, his heart wandered back to last Tuesday. To the day Avi had finally died. And left him alone. Alone with the love in his heart and the emptiness his jokes left behind.

He had lost weight. But not the twinkle in his eyes, the warmth, the kindness. Not the pain. Not cancer.

He remembered how he had held his hand. And how his lover slept. The pain now too much to stay awake in.

But Avi had opened his eyes. And smiled.

“ Goodbye, my love, thank you so much for loving me, and for letting me love you.”

Naresh had just smiled at him and clutched his hand tighter.

“ The pleasure, was all mine.”

A flatline.

Avi’s hand going limp.

A week of numbness.

No tears.

Nothing.

Just disbelief.

A man, whose faith had been cruelly ripped from him.

On the bed, still in his work clothes, Naresh sipped his second sip of the coffee.

God, he hated it.

God, he missed him.

He finished the drink.

The taste sat on the back of his mouth. The smell, now sitting inside his nose.

It wasn’t so bad now.

He turned to place his hand where Avi’s head had rested for hundreds of nights.

“Rest now, my love”

Naresh Yadav smiled and closed his eyes.

He didn’t open them again.

#writing #angst #writers of tumblr #writers #writeblr communit #creative writing #writing help

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tataswish · 4 years ago

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❝ familiarity / one.

━ ♡ ・ paring: kim taehyung x reader. ━ ♡ ・ genre: soulmate!au, non idol!au, fluff (with a little angst!). ━ ♡ ・ word count: 2.7k. ━ ♡ ・ summary: you didn’t believe in soulmates. once. that all changed when you met yours; all thanks to one little drawing.

author’s note: hi! i haven’t written in a while so excuse the small mistakes, but i hope you enjoy! if you’ve played bts world before, some of the stuff in this chapter might seem a little... familiar (no pun intented). i also plan to have the reader be connected to every member somehow in this fic, so they will come soon! hope you all enjoy, feedback is always appreciated. <3

“Shit,” you murmured under your breath, glancing at the rows of baked dough that were left in the oven for a little too long. Rather than its usual glossy, golden brown finish—it was dull, and… sad.

It’s been almost a year since you’ve been miraculously hired as the pastry chef’s assistant at Hotel Mudrin. You say miraculously, because even without any sort of culinary knowledge outside of cooking shows, you still managed to land the job. The chef was somehow impressed by the basic strawberry pancake dish you presented during your interview, and instantly saw growth potential in you.

That was also when you met your best friend, Seokjin. He was a newly hired intern at the time, and with the two of you being the only staff members in the hotel within the same age bracket, it didn’t take that much time for a bond to form. Seokjin was always getting into trouble by his boss Mr. Im, because to him, this intern could never do anything right. But with you there, you were able to lend a helping hand when tasks got a little too overwhelming—and things got a little easier from there. You and Seokjin began to spend time together on and off the clock since.

You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the mixture of raging hormones from being together, but the two of you decided to give dating a shot not too long after. It lasted for a solid two months—and while it had to come to an end, you both concluded that you were happier as friends.

And it was true. You and Seokjin have been inseparable since.

“____,” you heard the head chef call out your name, which instantly reeled you back to reality. Glancing down at the burnt dough on the tray, you felt a surge of warmth rush through your cheeks, knowing that you were about to be scolded at any second. “Are you okay? Ever since you came back from your lunch break, something’s been off.”

“No chef, nothing’s wrong,” you lied, walking over to the nearby garbage can to throw the current batch of dough away. A reassuring smile soon formed across your lips. “Just tired.”

If it wasn’t for you spiraling during your lunch break after Seokjin had left, maybe you would be in a better head space. But of course, spending the last ten minutes of break thinking about what went wrong in all of your relationships didn’t exactly help anyone at all.

The head chef could see through your lies too. And rather than questioning it, he only continued piping cream on the freshly cooled pastries on his side of the counter. “Maybe you need some fresh air,” he added with a shrug of his shoulders, eyes concentrated on his work. It was evident he was still invested in the conversation with you, though. “There should be a shipment of mangoes coming in in about twenty minutes, do you mind bringing those boxes in here? Take all the time you need. I’ll work on making another batch of dough.”

“I can make the dough, chef!” you tried to protest, mostly as a way to convince your boss that you weren’t feeling too off (when in reality, you were). “It’s okay, the mangoes can wait.”

As you were about to reach for the measuring cups in a nearby counter top, you were met with a look from the chef that clearly said: Go get some fresh air. Now.

So, rather than questioning it, you did.

After washing your hands and hanging your apron by the door, you made your way outside of the kitchen and into the main hallways of the hotel. It was emptier than usual—mostly because it was a weekday afternoon, and the guests who were staying at the hotel were out. It was also the midst of October, and the influx of guests don’t usually start to come in until around Christmas-time. Which was fine, because you weren’t met with the stress of having to make hundreds of fruit tarts in a span of an hour. Instead, you were able to step out and take a small stroll, which was always nice.

Upon exiting the area where the stairs were (staff weren’t allowed to use the elevators, per Mr. Im’s orders), you finally arrived at the ground floor. You always felt so out of place in the main lobby, with or without your work uniform. With the spacious area matched with gray marble flooring and sleek interior design, it was never a place you imagined yourself staying in. Only the richest of the rich could afford even one night in this place, and you? Couldn’t even afford a proper meal for dinner on some days. Hotel Mudrin was known to be a hub for millionaires, celebrities, or rich families alike—not for struggling university graduates like yourself.

But sometimes, it was nice to dream.

Quietly humming to a tune of a song you heard in the radio earlier this morning, you casually strolled through the floor, making your way towards the back door where the shipments would be. The subtle smell of lemon from the newly mopped floors was an odd favorite of yours. From time to time you’d flash a friendly smile towards the guests or staff members you’d pass by. But before you could exit through the back and meet with the shipment truck, you decided to take a small pit stop to the front desk and say hi to your best friend.

“Dude,” you began the minute you saw Seokjin behind the front desk. His eyes were on the computer screen in front of him, typing and clicking away, but you knew him well enough to know that he was probably playing a game of Minesweeper like he always does. Crossed arms resting on the desk, you then rest your chin on them as your eyes look up to your friend on the other side of the counter. “Remember when I wanted to cry because I realized I’ll probably be single and alone forever? Well my boss—”

As you continued to ramble on, Seokjin’s eyes finally met with yours. They weren’t eyes that meant he was ready to listen to you vent, no… they were wide. Like he was in a state of shock.

He quickly began to shake his head, which caused you to raise an eyebrow in slight confusion. Did he want you to stop talking? Shut up? Right as you were about to say something though, his lips began to mouth the words ‘I’m busy’ over and over again.

That was when you knew, you fucked up.

The truth was, Seokjin was still busy tending to a guest, and you interrupted him actually working. Turning around, you briefly spotted the guest he’s been helping, and god—it was obvious by the look of your face that you had just embarrassed yourself into the next century.

“Sorry sir!” you apologized quickly, heat beginning to rush through your cheeks while you bowed for the hundredth time in the span of thirty seconds. Rather than making proper eye contact like any normal person would, your view was glued to the floor. “I honestly didn’t see you, and I know I should’ve, but—”

“It’s okay! Don’t worry about it,” he soon interrupted by providing reassurance. Once you heard a string of laughter from his end, you knew that he was understanding enough of the situation. “I get it.”

While you still couldn’t find the strength to really look him in the eye, you only returned with a sheepish laugh. It wasn’t every day you found yourself acting like a complete fool in front of a hotel guest (that was more of Seokjin’s speed in all honesty), so you didn’t exactly know how to fix the situation. Instead, you ended up sitting there in silence until Seokjin rescued the conversation.

“Alright!” he chimed in with the clasp of his hands, which was obviously your cue to slowly walk away. “You’re all checked in until the 31st, Mr. Kim. Let me grab your bags and take you to your suite.”

As you were about to leave, of course, you couldn’t go without embarrassing yourself one last time. Just as you were about to make a beeline towards the break room—also known as the place you were going to scream in—you managed to bump into this guest in full force.

Looking up, you finally had the chance to take a good glimpse of the person in front of you. He was tall, muscular, with ash blond hair that was parted in the center. His almond eyes were practically gleaming behind his silver frames, and it paired well with the two dimples perfectly placed on each cheek.

In other words, he was gorgeous. And completely out of your league. Which is probably another reason why you were feeling flustered beyond belief at this very moment.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. It felt like a movie—with both of his hands gently placed on each of your arms to provide support, gentle eyes locked on yours. You could’ve sworn you felt your heart stop, whether if it’s from being embarrassed or… swooned, even.

Swallowing thickly, you managed to let out a small “yeah,” before fixing your stance. He eventually let go, and the two of you were able to laugh it off for a little. “But are you okay, sir?”

“Didn’t even hurt,” he reassured, flashing that smile that accentuated his dimples really well. An open then was reached out as an offer. “You can call me Namjoon. Do you work here?”

But before you could even keep the conversation going, of course, Seokjin had to butt in. Literally. “Let me help you with that, Mr. Kim,” he urged with a friendly, yet painful smile as he walked in between you and Namjoon. He then reached down to pick up the leather suitcase that was sitting right beside the guest’s leg. Eventually, Namjoon had to retract his hand.

You took it as your cue to leave, so you excused yourself from the two without saying goodbye.

Thankfully there wasn’t anyone in the break room to look at you quietly take a moment to freak out over what just happened. If Namjoon wasn’t so good-looking and one hundred percent your type on paper, maybe you would’ve shrugged the interaction off by now. But you kept thinking over and over about how you were going to run into him again in one way or another—especially since he plans on staying at the hotel for over three weeks. All he had to do is walk into the hotel’s dining area to have dinner, and you’d be there. Not even as you off the job, but you in that stupid apron and chef’s hat.

Head dug into your arms as you leaned on the table, you tried to think of something—anything to get your mind off of what just happened. Letting out a deep exhale, you decided to take your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your e-mails. The first thing that caught your attention was an opened one, the one you received from that psychic about your soulmate.

Your soulmate is a man who is hard-working and bright, he will constantly continue to prove that he can be trusted and counted on by your friends and family…

Your eyes continued to read through the reading the photo was attached to, which was oddly comforting. To know that there was someone out there who could potentially be everything you’re looking for.

He is understanding, forgiving and respectful, even when you sometimes make mistakes…

Deciding to skim through the rest of the reading, you opened up that picture once again. You couldn’t help but notice something you didn’t the first time you saw it, and that was the small details on his facial features. He has three beauty marks: one sitting on the bottom of his eye, on his cheek, and one placed perfectly on the tip of his nose. You could’ve sworn those weren’t there before.

“And I thought I was the one who’s always the embarrassment at work,” you heard the familiar voice barge inside the break room, which obviously belonged to Seokjin. He walked over to where you were sitting and rested his chin on the top of your head, arms dangling from each side of your shoulders. “Jesus Christ bubs, you were a mess out there.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you murmured grumpily, placing your phone back in your pocket. “Do you think he’s going to tell Mr. Im? I can’t be blacklisted from this place, I need my job.”

Seokjin only laughed. “Stop being so dramatic. He seems too nice to do that.” Shaking his head, he sighed. “Plus, I’m eighty-five percent sure he was hitting on you.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you retorted while rolling your eyes. “As if he found my dirty uniform and the flour in my hair sexy.”

“You’re right, there’s nothing sexy about you,” he playfully joked back, which made you elbow him in the stomach. And all he did was laugh after. “What are you doing out here, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be helping Chef Seong making those pies for tonight’s desserts?”

You sighed, nodding your head in response. “I’m supposed to be bringing a shipment of mangoes in from the back. Are you on your break? Do you want to come help me?”

With your best friend agreeing to accompany you to your trip to get the mangoes, the two of you head out of the break room and towards the back entrance of the hotel. As you opened the door to go outside, you noticed that the truck was already parked in front, with a few boxes of mangoes neatly stacked on top of one another. So, you decided to get to work and grabbed the first two boxes you see.

“Are these all of it?” you heard Seokjin ask (possibly the driver of the truck). You couldn’t really see, because the boxes were obstructing your view.

“There’s two more left,” the other person, who sounded like a man, replied. “Let me get those out.”

You made about two rounds in and out of the hotel before all of the boxes outside were brought in. Seokjin had to do the absolutely most as usual bringing way more boxes in than he could carry, and while he tried to play it cool as much as possible, you could tell he was struggling. His trembling arms were a clear tell that he could drop everything at given moment.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” you asked him, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling inside you.

“Does it look like I need your help?” Seokjin scoffed, which only made it harder to keep your laughter in. He couldn’t even look at you as he tried walking inside, because he was far too concentrated in keeping all of the mangoes inside these boxes. “Go away, you’re distracting me and my strength.”

As he continued to carry the boxes inside, you watched a couple of mangoes fall out and roll on the ground in front of you. He didn’t even seem to notice, because he kept walking. You only shook your head before bending down to quickly pick them up before they get too dirty.

Assuming that you’ve picked everything off the ground, you stood up and tried to catch up to Seokjin, who was already by the door. But rather than joining him, you were stopped. “Excuse me, miss!” you heard the foreign voice enter your ears. “You forgot these!”

You turned around to grab the mangoes out of the driver’s hands. “Thank you,” you replied with a soft smile. “Sorry about my friend, he’s—”

When you looked up to meet his gaze, it was as if what you were about to say next was thrown at the window. The person standing in front of you looked familiar. Even with the brim of his large straw hat hovering over his eyes, you could clearly see the prominent beauty marks on his features that resembled the ones of your soulmate in that one drawing.

It was him. It had to be.

#kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung imagine #bts fanfic #bts imagine #taehyung fanfic #v x reader #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #v fluff #kim taehyung #bts #bts series #bts fics

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cottage-babe · 4 years ago

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Burning Scars part X

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Masterlist

whoops i missed two weeks of updating, sorry, concussion stuff :) im all good now tho so more! updating!

I changed the original story up a bit :)

Summary: Y/n, a werewolf from a hidden village, comes across Zuko and Iroh after being exiled. How has fate intertwined the wolf into the avatar’s destiny?

___

Zuko’s been acting a little... weird lately.

Well, let’s clarify something; Zuko always acts weird. But ever since the trio went into work that day, the boy had been on edge.

Y/n was standing at the tea station, just leaning against the wall and spacing out. Iroh was beside her, humming a small tune as he prepared the next batch of tea. Then, the boy quickly walked up to them in panic.

“Guys, we have a problem.” He said as he set the teacups he was holding onto the table. “One of the customers is on to us. Don't look now but there is a girl over there at the corner table.”

Y/n snapped out of her daydream and looked over to the person Zuko was talking about. It was a pretty girl; she had long dark hair pulled into two braids and a sappy smile on her face. Instantly Y/n knew that she wasn’t suspicious of anything.

“Didn’t I say don’t look?!” Zuko whispered and dragged both of his companions arms to turn away.

A laugh almost escaped Y/n’s mouth as she shared a look with Iroh. “You know Zuko, I think you’re right, I’ve seen her here a lot.”

The clueless teen nodded his head and furrowed his brows.

“Seems to me she has quite a little crush on you.” Iroh laughed and went back to whatever it was that he was doing.

Zuko let out a ‘what?’ and Y/n sighed in response. She had to keep reminding herself that she and the other boy were nothing remotely close to romantic. If anything was learned from last night, they were just friends; family, at most. And she was okay with that, honestly. She had so many issues with him that it probably wouldn’t even work out. But still, she couldn’t deny the fact the Zuko might’ve been the topic of her daydream just moments ago.

Y/n resumed her position of leaning on the wall. She watched as the ‘mysterious’ girl walked up to the counter and began to talk to Zuko flirtatiously. The girl introduced herself as Jin and payed for her drink.

“Thank you and ... well, I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime?” Jin asked with a hopeful gaze.

Zuko paused in bewilderment and it almost made the poor girl regret her request. Y/n wasn’t going to butt in, she really wasn’t, but soon she decided that it was for the best. Maybe if she helped him get in a relationship, it would help her get over her slight (once again, very very slight) feelings over him.

“He’d love to.” Y/n responded for Zuko.

The boy looked around his shoulder and sent the wolf a questioning glare, but she just sent him a smile and turned to help Iroh make some tea.

My job here is done.

Jin and Zuko talked a bit more and ended with her saying that she’d meet with him at sundown. That meant that for the rest of the day Zuko chatted nervously with Y/n and Iroh, giving off mixed feelings between ‘I don’t want to go’ and ‘should I dress nice?’. Y/n let Iroh do all the talking, she wasn’t too much of an expert in that area.

When she was in her pack, Y/n wasn’t exactly popular among the boys. They mainly drifted her to strong, beautiful sister and the girl wasn’t bothered by it too much. She had a few crushes here and there, but that was about it. Nothing was ever acted on.

So hearing that this was Zuko’s first date relieved her to an extent; at least she wasn’t the only one who’d gone this long without being in a relationship. But there was the other part that nagged her a bit, the fact that Zuko was having his first date; with a stranger none the less.

Quit all this feeling stuff, it’s getting annoying.

Y/n may or may not have been giving Zuko a form of silent treatment for the day. If he ever asked her anything, she answered, but other than that, she never intimated any conversation. There wasn't any particular reason (lies), but it certainly didn't go unnoticed by her roommate.

"Hey, uhh.. if you don't think that I should go, I won't." Zuko said randomly on their break.

Y/n's eyes furrowed in confusion. "I literally answered her for you, Lee. If anyone is being hesitant, it should be you."

"So," he began. "Your not bothered? At all?"

There was this weird look in the boy's eyes, something of... Hope?

That's weird.

"Listen, if you need advise or something, Iroh will probably be your best bet." The werewolf laughed awkwardly.

He just sighed and went back to work.

When closing time was coming and there were hardly any customers left, Zuko and Iroh went to the backroom to prepare. Y/n didn’t really pay attention to what they were doing; she just assumed that they were cleaning up any dirty bits he picked up or making him smell better.

That was why when Zuko walked out into the dining room with his hair slicked back ridiculously, Y/n couldn't hold back the snort that escaped her. Why would Iroh do this to him? Some revenge she didn’t know about or something?

Zuko glared at her and she just masked up her laughter as a cough. “You look great!” She even put a thumbs up to try an convince him of her lie. He just rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly opening the door of the restaurant. By that time, the few remaining people had filtered out and it was just the three of them.

When the view of Jin came, even Y/n couldn’t hold back her gasp.

The young girl was really quite beautiful. Her braid was fixed and she had a youthful enthusiasm to her features. It was a beautiful contrast to the adult life that Y/n and Zuko were thrown into.

Jin’s eyes widened at the boys new look and laughed, saying something clever to him. Zuko just shut the door so his two roommates wouldn’t listen in on their conversation.

“He’s growing up so fast,” Iroh jokingly sniffled and wiped a fake tear.

Y/n laughed and nodded her head. I hope he’s nice to her.

The werewolf turned and returned to the backroom so she could put her apron away. She assumed that Iroh was following, so she didn’t bother waiting.

“So,” She began, “what should we do tonight?” Y/n began to wave her arms around dramatically. “Get some food? Watch a play?”

She was really looking forward to tonight. Now they didn’t have Zuko here constantly breathing down their necks (”We don’t have enough money for that!!” “Why buy that when you can buy this!” it got a little redundant at times).

Iroh slid his apron off and chuckled. “Oh no no... I’m far too old to have fun at night.”

Y/n deflated. To be fair, the sun hadn’t fully set yet. “I mean... I guess we could read at home?”

He shook his head once more and turned toward the werewolf. “Just go have fun, meet new people. Don’t let someone like me slow you down!”

She pouted. Why does he think that time spent with him is wasted? She has plenty of fun hanging out with the sweet uncle! Y/n looked at his happy, aged face and observed his truthfulness. She knows that he just wants her to have fun, but still...

“Just go, Y/n, and I’ll see you back home tonight.” Iroh smiled.

Y/n sighed, looking at Iroh one last time, before turning around and heading out the same door that Jin and Zuko left through. When the brisk air hit her, it felt different somehow. Maybe because this was her first time being out alone. She means this quite lightly, of course, but something about it still irked her.

The sun was sorta bright out, but not much.

It had set halfway, so the small beams were jutting out the tops of the building and the sky was painted the scene of fire. Oh, her and her love for sunsets.

Y/n decided to pick a direction and walk. Honestly, in this part of the city, there weren’t many sights to see; everything interesting rested in the higher Rings since they could afford it.

After a few minutes, the girl saw a stand selling sweets. She patted her pockets and brought out her tips from work. It wasn’t much, but definitely enough for the night.

She paid for some iced treats; Popsicles of some kind. She wasn’t entirely sure which flavor to pick, so she went with her childish side and decided to buy two that she was interested in.

As she continued her trip, Y/n stopped at a few places to watch things. Since night was approaching, shows were starting on random parts of the streets. People performed odd talents for money and it excited the girl; maybe she should do something like them, it seems fun.

At some point, Y/n ended up at the entrance of a zoo.

She was almost finished with the first ice cream in her grasp when she decided to enter the park. It seemed deserted and there was only one person at the front desk.

“Umm, excuse me? Are you open?” Y/n asked since the worker was almost half asleep.

The man jumped awake and looked around, startled. Then, his eyes landed on the girl’s curious figure. “Yes. Is it just you? Where’s your friends?”

Y/n pouted in response. “It’s just me, how much is it?”

She began to ruffle through her pockets, hoping that it was enough to see the animals, but the man waved a hand in the air.

“It’s fine, you can just go ahead. Just don’t feed the animals.” He said while looking suspiciously at the girl’s popsicles.

Y/n nodded her head and smiled in thanks. Then, she went inside.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she wanted to be here; it would be hard for her to see captive animals when she herself was one (well, not caged, but you get the point). Her pack elders had informed her of zoos and used it to scare the kid wolves so they wouldn’t go and try to find humans. Of course, that never worked on Y/n and her siblings. She honestly just thought that it was fake up until this point.

The werewolf walked around to each cell to observe the animals. It almost made her cry; they all just looked so lonely. Y/n couldn’t imagine how trapped they must feel in this small cage; a part of her was happy that she wasn’t in that situation, though.

“They all look so sad.”

Y/n turned around and was met with a young boy, possibly about twelve years old. He was bald with a blue arrow tattooed across his forehead and arms and held a long stick in his hands. The orange of his clothing made him standout against the dreary greys of the zoo.

The girl looked at the animal across from them. It was a Rabaroo, an animal with long ears and bouncy legs. Y/n could hear small chirps coming from the pouch in her front, but she decided not to say anything.

“She’s really hungry too, I can tell.” Y/n said as she walked up closer to the cage.

The poor animal was almost pleading for help. She had a thought that the Rabaroo knew what she was, a predator, but still asked for help. These animals must be really desperate.

The boy joined her. “I wish there was something I could do, but I’m not sure how to help.”

Y/n nodded her head in agreement. When she got this feeling in the past (before they entered Ba Sing Se with their Ostrich-Horses), she found a solution; to just let them go and be free. Now, however, she just felt helpless.

Instead, she just looked at the boy and held out the other ice treat in her hand. “Do you want one? I can’t finish both.”

He got a childish excitement in his eyes and grabbed the treat. Y/n smiled back at him, maybe something good can come from today.

“I’m Aang, I’m looking for my lost Sky Bison.” Aang said as he began licking to Popsicle.

“Y/n,” she introduced herself while thinking, what the Spirits is a Sky Bison? “I'm just wandering the city; thinking."

“Really?” He asked. “What are you thinking about?”

What was she thinking about?

There’s so much that should be on her mind right now; her future, how her family’s doing, how she’s doing, but for some reason the only thing that’s been scattered around her brain recently was Zuko. Something about him just seemed so.. spirits, she couldn’t even find the word for it. But it seemed like she was seeing him differently now.

“Oh, you're still here?"

Y/n and Aang turned to the voice that spoke. It belonged to the man at the front desk, the one that let her in for free.

"Do you know what's wrong with the animals?" Aang asked the owner, ignoring the rude phrase that he said.

"Well, the Dai Li won't give me any money because the kids stopped coming. And the kids won't come because my zoo's nasty and broke." The owner sighed. "I wish I could give all these animals the big, open space that they need."

Y/n frowned. He must have really good intentions, it's just the situation that makes him seem bad.

She met eyes with the younger boy to her side and was surprised to see the... Joy?

"Let's do it!" Aang yelled out, surprising both people beside him. "There's a big open space right outside the walls of the city!"

"But how do we transport them?" Y/n asked.

She was totally on board with the idea, it's just that it seemed a little... Impulsive. But she was talking to a child, though, and they always have such big ideas.

"Oh I'm really good with animals." The boy smiled. "Do you want to help me?"

The werewolf paused, thinking that maybe she shouldn't get involved in this event. But one look at the poor Rabaroo peering up at her with it's wide eyes made her cave in.

"You know... I'm pretty good with animals too."

She was not as good as she thought she was.

Aang and Y/n separated because they needed to find a way to calm the wild animals running loose. The boy (spirits bless him) thought it was a fantastic idea to let all of the animals go at once; from the biggest animals to the smallest rats. It was wild.

And so here the werewolf was, chasing down a pair of Raccoon-Crows. Since the sun had set long ago, there weren’t a lot of people out. Most who enjoyed the liveliness of the night has had their fun and returned to the welcoming embrace of their beds. Oh, if only I stayed home to sleep.

“Get back here!” Y/n yelled as the birds flew off once again.

They seemed to look at her with a mischievous gleam in their eyes; waiting for her to get close before bolting off once again. It was getting very annoying.

She didn’t regret helping the young boy, especially since she might’ve gained a friend out of this. She only regretted not coming up with a better plan; or at least to wait until morning.

“AHHH!” A voice screamed off in the distance.

Y/n groaned and turned toward the yell, knowing that some animal was probably attacking some random citizen. What she didn’t expect though, was to run face first into Zuko and Jin’s date.

Jin had a hog-monkey climbing on her dress and Zuko was in full panic mode. He tried to help her push the animal off, but it seemed to have a steel grip on her. Luckily, they were alone in some fire lit plaza.

Y/n felt really awkward, especially with how private the area was. What would they need privacy for? She quickly pushed that out of her head though and whistled loudly to catch the Monkey’s attention.

The animal and the two teens looked at her in surprise. Y/n took out a treat that the Zoo Keeper had given her and waved it to catch the eyes of the Hog-Monkey. When it loosened it’s grip, she threw it as far as she could away from the group. Luckily, it jumped away in excitement.

“Y/n?!” Zuko exclaimed. Sighing in defeat, the werewolf slowly joined the duo.

Jin was still slightly frightened and was grasped onto the boy’s arm. Y/n pretended not to see it.

“Hey Lee. Fancy seeing you here?” She tried miserably as she scrunched her face up in discomfort. Maybe they’ll be able to cut this conversation short.

“Why aren’t you back home with Uncle?” Zuko said as his eyebrows squished together in anger. “What are you even doing out here?”

“I decided to go out too,” she explained quickly, “but listen, I met this boy and we’r-”

“A boy?!” He seemed to be fuming now. “You can’t just go around talking to random people.”

This made the werewolf (and Jin, but we’re kinda ignoring the sweet girl for a moment) raise her eyebrow in disbelief. He’s really out here, scolding her for making friends when he’s on a date with some girl he’s never met before. Does he ever think before he speaks?

“I-” Y/n paused and took a deep breath to calm herself. “You know what? We’ll talk about this later. I think we’re both busy at the moment.”

Zuko glanced at his date and the werewolf used that distraction as an excuse to leave. She ran off in the direction of the Hog-Monkey, hoping that it hadn’t run too far and purposefully ignored the boy who yelled in protest behind her. Stupid Zuko and his stupid anger issues.

When she got far enough, she slowed to a walk and looked around. The monkey must’ve gotten away because it was nowhere in sight.

“Hog-Monkey.... c’mere monkey, I have treats.” Y/n spoke loudly out into the dark streets of Ba Sing Se.

She hoped that the animal would hear her words and come barreling toward her, but she was only greeted with silence except for the soft footsteps coming from a lady walking down the street. Besides for the lady, the entire street was empty and no other animal was in sight.

That was when she heard it.

A high pitched ringing noise that rattled her bones and made her brain shrink in protest. It was louder than anything she’d ever heard before. It wasn’t the noise that was painful, no no, it was the feeling of being ripped apart that did.

The noise, for some reason, caused the werewolf in Y/n to go absolutely crazy. It was fighting the girl; desperately trying to shift into its natural skin so it could run toward the ringing.

Y/n hunched herself over and groaned out in pain. She looked at her hands and saw it shifting between claws and human hands; she could only imagine what the rest of her body was doing.

“Are you alright, sweetie?”

The transforming-girl looked up to meet the eyes of the lady who was on the street. Her eyes were filled with worry, but slowly changed into something of fear.

Before the werewolf could do something to hurt the kind woman, Y/n bolted down an empty alley. Spirits, what is happening to me?

She leaned against the dirty wall and tried to catch her breath, but her wolf just kept clawing at her, desperately trying to escape. She punched the wall, leaving a fist-sized dent (her mind just brushed it off as her wolf power, but that was weird, right?). Then, while the ringing noise still blasted through her ears, she felt her snout slowly grow out of her face; a growl of effort roaring through the alleyway.

The young girl wanted to cry. Why couldn’t she control herself right now? She was used to the pain of transforming, she had done it all of her life, but she’d never experienced the pain of her two natures battling. It was something entirely different.

The seconds that were passing seemed like hours.

All she could think was, when will the ringing stop?

Soon, she didn’t have the power to hold it back anymore. Her human body was weak and she hated herself for it. She let her werewolf grow into its natural size, towering above her normal height. She felt her clothing rip until it was just strips of fabric on on the floor.

The ringing stopped, but her wild mind remembered where the sound came from and began its run there.

Fortunately (although, its also very unfortunate), her journey was ended when something sharp pierced through the skin on her neck. Her dark eyes jumped around until it landed on the fearful lady from the street shaking beside a group of men.

Y/n felt a sudden drowsiness come over her and her large body fell limp to the floor despite it’s fighting. Just before the unconsciousness came over her, though, the green circle on the men’s chest became prominent in the moonlight.

Then, her world went dark.

Dai Lee >:(

also Aang’s whistle thing >:(

i know that this is a VERY slow burn, but maybe some... couple-y stuff in the next few chapters? we’ll see ;)

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Taglist: @bucky-blogs @hopefuloperaangelnerd @simplyfandomish @oddlypointlessescapes @lozzybowe @woohoney @whalerus @cece-lives-here @bwndito @kiaoizz @lrmilikepie @ohmigooosh

#zuko #zuko x reader #atla #avatar

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dessarious · 5 years ago

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Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt26

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

Beginning Previous Next

Marinette just stood there for a moment, hoping she would wake up and this would all just be a nightmare. When she heard Damian speak she knew it wasn’t. And she knew she needed to get back out there before someone got thrown off the roof.

“I’m fairly certain slavery is illegal in France and I very much doubt Marinette likes being referred to in such a proprietary way.” She listened to Chat sputter in indignation and wondered how a boy she’d known all of two weeks read her so well, while Chat still couldn’t seem to understand very basic things about her and Ladybug.

“Of course she likes it! I gave her the nickname and she adores me.” Marinette could only roll her eyes and let out a sigh of frustration as she trudged back up to the skylight. Seriously, no one’s luck should be this bad. When she popped her head out through the skylight she found both boys about to speak again, no doubt to throw insults at each other.

“Would you two mind taking this somewhere else? I’ve got two school tours tomorrow and I’d really like to get some sleep.” She knew the tone of her voice would be completely lost on Chat, but she really hadn’t expected Damian to catch it either. His furrowed brow said otherwise.

“That’s why I’m here Princess! You shouldn’t have let your mother out Lila like that, you know it will only end with an Akuma.” Marinette just gave Chat a flat look, knowing that nothing she said would help the situation at this point. “But now that you have, what’s the point in changing schools? You’d be much better off staying where you are. And I really think you should talk your mom out of contacting M. Agreste. Really, it’s not like Adrien did anything wrong.”

“So that’s what this is about. Adrien put you up to this.” Chat tried to deny it but Marinette was done. “I have no control over my mother and if I did, I wouldn’t use it to help someone so selfish.” Chat’s face fell and his ears drooped before his face turned into an ugly pout.

“He’s not selfish. Leaving Lila alone was the best decision for everyone.” He actually stomped his foot. Manon wasn’t this much of a pain, well not anymore.

“Obviously it wasn’t best for Marinette. And no one who was actually her friend would suggest she stay in such a toxic situation. Since you don’t seem to be much of a friend perhaps you should leave and go do your job. Or do you make it a habit of using your hero persona to stalk girls?” Chat gaped at Damian, at a loss for words. The only thought that went through Marinette’s mind was, ‘well he isn’t wrong.’

“How dare you imply such a thing. I’m a hero and my heart beats only for Ladybug anyway. As soon as she stops pretending we’re not meant to be everything will be purrfect.” Oh Kwami, not the puns. She was not up to dealing with that nonsense right now.

“So what I’m hearing is that you sexually harass your partner and when she rejects you you decide to visit civilian girls, probably because they’re far more impressed with you than your partner could be since she has to deal with your nonsense all the time.”

“I only ever visit Mari and I’m not harassing Ladybug. If she would just admit her true feelings everything would be fine.” He was pouting again and it was all Marinette could do to keep a straight face.

“So sorry. You only stalk and impose on two women instead of a lot of them. I suppose that makes you a picky dirtbag.” Chat actually growled and Marinette knew she needed to intervene. Finally coming all the way onto the roof she stepped in between the two boys.

“Chat don’t you have patrol?” She knew he loved running over the rooftops even though he never did much useful on his nightly excursions. As Ladybug she would help with standard criminal but Chat seemed to think it was beneath him. Yet another thing that annoyed her to no end. He just scoffed.

“I’m sure M’Lady can handle it on her own. It’ll be good for her and she’ll see just how much she depends on me.” She tried to stop the eyeroll, really she did, but there was only so much a person could take.

“Chat, get off my roof and go do your job. I’m not going to let you just sit here and play hookie.” She was so tired of all of this. Even once she got away from her school she’d still have to deal with this nonsense. There were days she wanted to demand Fu find a new black cat but she was honestly worried he might find someone worse. The current situation was tolerable at the moment.

“Fine but I’m taking him with me.” Chat glared at Damian over her shoulder and she could imagine the smug smirk and challenging look he wore. “You also have to promise to stop your mom from talking to Gabriel Agreste.” That demanding tone made her react.

“No. You’re leaving. I’m not telling my mother to do or not do anything. And Damian is a guest who will leave when I ask him to, unlike some people.” Chat didn’t pick up on the dig, though she wasn’t surprised it did annoy her a bit. Subtly was lost on her partner. Perhaps that was her problem as Ladybug, she just hadn’t been forceful enough in rejecting his advances. Was hitting him over the head with a two by four too much? Perhaps, but she was running out of options to make him believe that she didn’t see him that way. She just wanted something to be simple.

“Fine, but this isn’t over Princess, I’m sure you’ll agree with me in time. In the mean time just don’t burn any bridges. You can’t afford to lose any friends. “ As he bounded off into the night Marinette could only breathe a sigh of relief. Directly behind it came the inevitable worry. She was going to have to deal with him, sooner rather than later.

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Kofi

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#maribat #marinette dupen chang #damian wayne #bffmaridami

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inkribbon796 · 4 years ago

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Egotober Day 11: Who is the Strongest in the Land?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Prompt: Strong

Summary: There’s a bit of a debate in the Coalition. Who is the strongest? Silver’s superpower? Bob’s shields. Or Robbie’s magically infused muscles?

A/N: So, guess who saw the new Sanders Asides and already wants to make content? Me! Unfortunately for the plot I will have to wait until I can include the new pairing in so heads up on that.

Warnings: none

For years there had been a question between the heroes.

Who was the strongest hero? Unlike with Jackie’s speed, Roman’s imagination-based powers, or the fact that Logan was unbeatable in trivia pursuit games; the “strong” category had no clear first place winner.

If you asked anyone in the city there was only one name they gave: Silver. Mostly because he was able to lift cars and similarly heavy objects throw them an eyebrow-raising distance away.

Ask certain heroes like Joan and Logan or even King who were a bit more literal about the powers around them, and they gave a different answer: Bob.

Logan’s reasoning was simple: the veteran hero had impenetrable barriers. Blunt force objects, explosives, magical attacks, Dark’s aura, even Silver using his strength to rocket him across the fight like a huge pinball wasn’t enough to even crack the barrier. The only thing stopping the barrier was Bob’s stamina in maintaining said barrier.

Of course Marvin was one of the only people with a third opinion: Robbie. Before his zombification, for lack of a better term, Robbie had never really had a superpower. He had only some good sense — something interestingly hard to come by in the group — and he was a touch hardier than the average teenager. But after Marvin had been using more and more spells to reverse the after effects of his slight decomposition, the result was Herculean strength and more human mannerisms.

Today one debate turned into another and once again Bob and Mark were going to settle the age old debate, and before anyone knew it most of the heroes were standing in the garage and Logan was helping to rig several sensors to take measurements of how hard Silver was punching and how hard Bob or his barriers were getting hit.

Henrik was of course naturally fretting around Robbie, fully objecting to Marvin using the young man to settle the debate.

“Nein! You vill do no such zing!” Henrik argued.

“Relax,” Iplier tapped him with the back of his hand, “J.J you’d tell us if anything happened right?”

J.J nodded and signed a quick “yes” but was conspicuously not making his way to the betting pool to place a bet of his own. It kept Iplier from making his own since neither the time traveler nor the seer were making bets, they were sitting on either side of him, watching.

“Do you guys know who to bet on?” Dr. Iplier asked them.

“Of course the Host knows who will win,” the seer grinned between his narrations.

J.J gave a sign that the Host did his best to translate, “No bet on first attempt,” J.J warned him.

“I’ll ask you next time then,” Iplier joked, smiling. “We’ll make bank on it.”

Then the Host pulled a jar out that had two five dollar bills in it, a tapped note in Iplier’s handwriting read on the front: “TIE”. Each of the notes had a rolled up piece of paper that had the name of the person who had placed the bet and how much they placed. There was a huge grin on his face, “The Host suggests Iplier go and place his bet on the table.”

J.J shrugged and slipped a five into Iplier’s hand, his name tag wrapped around it. Thankfully the bulk of the group was too busy arguing to notice what was obviously the Host’s bet going up. But Virgil who was close by saw that Iplier was trying to sneak the jar up. Iplier then snuck back and Virgil carefully slipped his bet from Bob’s jar, which he had only chosen because Logan had placed a bet there, to the Tie jar. Then he went back to sitting a safe distance away. “A safe distance” that would eventually turn into sitting next to Iplier.

“Fuck ‘em up Robbie!” Ethan cheered from where he was standing.

Robbie gave a huge, warm smile.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my team?” Mark chuckled, giving his former apprentice a fake-offended gasp.

Ethan just laughed, his contagious giggling undercutting any actual vitriol that could have been in the words, “No, hahahah! Fuck you.”

Bob laughed, “Ooooh! He got you good!”

Mark rolled his eyes and lightly pushed him, “Come on, let’s go.”

Roman cleared his throat, he was in a huge puffy tutu that was white and red with glitter dusting it. He was in a tight red and white leotard with golden accents to it that were reminiscent of his usual outfit, along with a pair of white footed pants. “Well let’s begin, my bet won’t win itself.”

“Your wager was placed by bribery with cookies, compounding your already unsound logic,” Logan reminded him.

“Oh hush, nerdy Wolverine,” Roman ordered, and held an arm up. “Okay, Round 1: Silver Shepherd v. Gatling, to the victor go . . . the victory.”

“Smooth, Princey,” Virgil snickered.

Roman stuck out his tongue at Virgil and the anxious Side just snickered and rolled his eyes. “Well we have other rounds.”

The creative Side cleared his throat before announcing, “Ready. Set. Go!”

Roman brought his hand down as he said that last word. Mark shot off at full speed, too fast for most of the heroes to follow with their own eyes.

Bob brought up a barrier in time and the air around the other heroes popped most of their ears. Virgil whimpered in pain a bit and scooted over to get closer to Iplier.

Silver repeatedly flew around to get spread. The barriers never broke and Silver kept up the onslaught for another couple minutes before the wear and strain started to show on Bob’s face.

Usually in an actual fight the other heroes would have picked up the slack so Bob could hunker into his barriers and get a breather to grab his second wind. But this wasn’t a normal fight, it was a duel and the fight started to wear down on him.

The instant Silver saw it, he started taunting his friend. “What’s the matter, getting tired there?”

“How about you shut up, asshole!” Bob shouted and as Silver was racing forward again, he extended out the barrier and Silver wasn’t as braced as he should have been and slammed into it face-first, breaking his nose.

The barrier extended out, taxing more of Bob’s strength than he expected. The shield flickered and Silver noticed it immediately and struck, slamming into the barrier again and Bob’s concentration slipped, the barrier flickered again just long enough for Silver to speed through and knock Bob to the ground, pinning him in place.

Mark had a huge, smug smile on his face, “Hah! I win.”

Bob groaned, “Fuck!”

“Inconclusive,” Logan huffed. “The barriers were never broken.”

“But he was defeated all the same,” Host announced. “The Host doubts that Silver’s current opponent could get back on his feet to fight Silver so soon.”

“You didn’t even make a bet,” Mark shouted at him, catching his breath a little.

But at the Host’s huge smile, Silver looked back at Jackie who was now by the table, “Hey, what was his bet, cause that smile says he made one.”

“I dunno,” Jackie shrugged, “I stepped away to grab a coffee.”

“The Host was secretive about his bet because only five people would have voted against him,” the Host said.

“Of course we wouldn’t have,” Ethan agreed loudly. “You know what’s gonna happen.”

“But where would the Host get his entertainment from?” The Host smiled, trying to sound hurt but it didn’t work at all.

“You asshole,” Bob smiled. “Kay, Silv, you win.”

“Hey! That’s my job!” Roman reminded indignantly.

“Wooooo! Yeah, I’m the best, fucking suck it!” Mark shouted at Bob, talking right over Roman which made the Side even angrier, floating off the ground for a bit.

Bob shoved him a bit, sending him farther than if Mark had been standing like a normal person. “Ugh, you are the worst sometimes.”

Then Bob stepped aside and Robbie came to stand opposite Silver. And here was where Mark made his first mistake. He looked at Robbie, at the former apprentice he had helped train, and tried to figure out how to beat Robbie without hurting him.

Roman announced how, and Silver moved first. He flew towards Robbie but instead of knocking him over, the young man grabbed him by the arm and used Silver’s momentum to toss him to the side and make him slammed into the wall behind the zombie.

Henrik and Marvin dove out of the way, and Mark stared at Robbie with surprise.

“Yeah, get ‘im,” Marvin cheered after a moment’s shock.

“Alright, fine then,” Mark huffed out, deciding that he could afford to be a little rougher with him. Much to Henrik’s mounting horror, Mark began to try with more effort to pin Robbie down, but Mark’s earlier round with Bob and the fact that he’d been wasting time going easy on him for the first half of the fight.

So when Mark came flying towards him, trying to get around the back to pin Robbie down but the ensuing struggle looked more like a wrestling match and ended with Robbie kinda hugging Mark’s arms to his side and the superhero just floating in the air looking like a piece of board.

“Heya,” Bob smiled at Mark, “having fun there, buddy?”

“Shut up,” Silver tried to wiggle free but Robbie just hugged him harder, a smile on his face.

After about a solid minute, he let out a frustrated growl and just floated there in an angry huff. “How? Marvin what have you done to this guy?”

“That sounds like he gave up,” Marvin grinned, looking at Logan who looked thoroughly upset and put out. “Victory right?”

“No!” Silver called, struggling a bit more. “I’m not giving up.”

Then he admitted, “Yeah . . . fine.”

“Robbie win?” Robbie smiled at Marvin.

“Sure did kid,” Marvin cheered.

“Yay!” Robbie let go of Mark and he just floated there for a bit, pouting a little.

He did float out of range so Bob, hopped up on an energy drink and getting a little bit of a rest, could take his place. He smiled as he put out a little bit of a barrier. Bob was bracing for a hard hit like he usually was with Silver but when Roman called “Go” and Robbie slammed his shoulder against the barrier, Bob barely felt it.

Bob was used to faster heroes, and having a tanky type of fighting style, by necessity with his powers, he was unused to defending against that.

But Robbie wasn’t a fast fighter, strong? Absolutely. However he wasn’t even half as fast as Mark and Bob just rested his elbow against the barrier and leaned against it. It had been a hot minute since he’d fought someone he had enough time to rest with.

Mark and Wade were the first ones to realize what was going on.

“Well shit,” Wade said. “He’s not getting through that.”

“He could!” Marvin promised defiantly.

Wade gave Marvin a look, “You know he’s not.”

“Come on, he hits hard enough to do more than that,” Mark defended, if only to salvage his own wounded pride.

“Oh yeah, I feel something,” Bob agreed. “It’s just not fast enough.”

“He was going faster against Silver,” Marvin cut in. “I call a do over.”

“No! No! If I got tired after Gatling,” Mark called out, “that counts.”

“But that means it’s a tie,” Bob spoke up. “We can’t have a tie.”

“But oh yes, the heroes can,” the Host smiled.

“Yah weren’t e’en bettin’!” Marvin shouted at them.

“But yet the Host always wins,” the Host smiled, J.J smiled as well.

“So do we win?” Virgil asked hesitantly.

“Hey,” Logan turned to Virgil, “you placed a bet at the same time has me for Bob.”

“I changed it,” Virgil whispered, already pulling his hoodie up a bit higher.

“You changed your vote because you were aware of a more likely outcome,” Logan realized. “I applaud your insight.”

Virgil smiled a bit and the winnings were distributed amongst the four winners, J.J leaving this timeline as it was. Logan, Bob, Marvin, and Mark continued to debate between each other who would have won in an “actual fight” after the Host used his voice to bring in a bunch of donuts to distract the heroes from the fact that he had basically got away with the bulk of the winnings . . . again.

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mattygraygubler · 4 years ago

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new girl 1 (spencer reid fic)

hi babies. so excited for this new fic. thanks for reading <3

find my masterlist here, send me an ask to be added to this tag list or to request something, and find my read rec account here

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smutty smut smut

AN: you can tell pretty easily that im totally projecting what i want my life to be like onto the reader, which i have a tendency to do. anyway here's some smut, and a little introduction to the story, which im super excited for. if ONE PERSON sends me an ask saying they want another chapter ill post it.

I was the youngest partner at my firm to pass the bar exam at the ripe age of 20 years old. My friends all made fun of me, as back then I wasn’t old enough to go out to celebrate passing the bar.

Working for Henley & Associates was a blessing I loved. Being a criminal defense lawyer was amazing. Defending criminals sounds awful, but Henley & Associates did a massive amount of pro bono work, which is what drew me to the firm. Yes, I had to represent some awful people that were clearly guilty, but I also got to represent people who needed me, who were innocent and needed an amazing defense lawyer in their corner (one they couldn’t afford). But after years with the firm, I was beginning to get tired.

It started when I was 22 and first joined the firm. As a bright newcomer, I was given easy cases others didn’t want. I didn’t care, I was just ecstatic to be working in a world-renounced firm, and getting to do pro bono cases. Getting to help people made up for the times I had to defend people I didn’t think deserved to be defended. The rich ones. The Jeffrey Epsteins and OJs of the world.

And then, after a few years, right when I made partner, things changed. I got the cases that no one wanted. The worst, and richest, criminals. I was told it was because I was the best, that they requested me, but quickly I got tired. I was no longer doing pro bono cases; I was stuck defending awful people who I felt deserved to be in jail.

So at the age of 25, I secretly completed two doctorates, one in psychology, one in criminology, and by the time I was 27, I was ready to leave Henley and Associates.

Erin Strauss was a bitch if I ever met one, but I had tremendous respect for the woman. After just one interview she told me she would be more than happy to explore placing me on any team I wanted.

And I knew exactly which one I wanted: the BAU.

***

“But what if she doesn’t like us??” Penelope whined as she sat on Derek’s desk.

“Baby girl stop freaking out. Hotch says if she’s a bad fit, she doesn’t have to stay.”

“I don’t know about that.” JJ said joining the conversation in the bullpen.

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked.

“They refuse to tell anyone her name, but apparently she’s kind of a big deal. Strauss offered her a position in any department she wanted, and she wants us.” JJ replied.

“So you mean even if she’s horrible and awful and terrible she’s gonna stay on the team?”

“Penelope, she isn’t going to be any of those things.” Derek replied.

“Who is this lady if Strauss is literally giving her free reign over the FBI?” Emily asked.

“I have no idea, like I said, they’ve kept things extremely confidential. Rossi let it slip that all the interviews took place at night in undisclosed locations so her current employers wouldn’t find out she was leaving.” JJ said.

“What, is she some sort of celebrity?” Pen asked.

“What kind of celebrity becomes an FBI profiler?” Spencer asked.

“God, I wish I had something, a description, a name.” Penelope said. “I hate not knowing things, especially about my team.”

“I believe you mean my team, Garcia.” Hotch said as he walked into the bullpen. “Conference room, we’ve got to wrap up the Baltimore strangler case before we leave for the weekend.”

***

“Ok, it’s my big night I am NOT letting myself be privy to this kind of behavior!” I said with a laugh. It was my big night, and me and my closest friends were out at our favorite bar celebrating. It was a Friday night, so it was busy and the smell of alcohol and sweat filled the air.

“You are completely going to let yourself be privy to this behavior.” Jenna said with a push on my shoulder. Our favorite waitress came over with some shots “on the house” she said, thanks to my new job.

Yes, we were in our mid-20s, but that didn’t mean we didn’t still act like kids sometimes.

“Oh my LORD, do you see him?” Isabelle asked. I turned my attention to the door, where a group of people were walking in. The one at the front of the group was tall and bald, with chocolate skin and a dazzling smile.

“Dibs.” Katie said immediately.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “If anyone should get dibs on the hottest guy in this bar, it’s me.” “I’ll made you a deal.” Katie said with a mischievous smirk. I knew what that look meant, and I hated it.

“Alright, what’s the deal.” I asked.

“You manage to get the moody nerd he’s with to smile, and I’ll give you my dibs.”

“What moody nerd?” I asked. I was too focused on the gorgeous man we originally saw to notice the rest of his group, which I now scanned. He was accompanied by three attractive women and another man. Actually, man may not be the right word.

“Oh my god, Katie, he doesn’t even look old enough to be in this bar!” I said.

“To be fair, neither do you.” Jenna said with a smirk. She was right, I did look much younger than I am. “C’mon, Y/N/N, he’s such a cutie. You could totally boss him around.” My friends all laughed at Jenna’s quip.

“Okay, deal. I gotta wait for my opportunity, though.” I said. We resumed our drinking and laughing at our high table, but I kept my eyes on the other group across the room. None of them seemed to be aware of the world around them, they were having just as much fun as everyone else in the bar.

Except the moody nerd. He looked like I felt when I was the only woman at the gym: scared, uncomfortable, defensive, and out of my element. How the HELL am I supposed to make this weirdo smile? Finally, after who knows how long (drinking really changes time, doesn’t it?) I saw my opportunity. The tall nerd stood up from the table and starting collecting empty glasses, clearly about to go to the bar for a refill.

“Brb-“ I said suddenly and walked briskly to the bar, hoping to beat him there. We arrived at the same time, and I purposefully stood at the opposite side of the bar so if he looked across he would see me.

“Y/N, gorgeous, what can I get you?” Hank asked with a charming grin.

“You already know, Hank.” I said and returned the smile. “And whatever the tall guy over there is having.” I replied.

“The one with the curly hair?” I nodded, and Hank replied with a chuckle. “He’s not normally the type of guy you pick up…”

“I’m aware. In order to steal dibs from Katie on the gorgeous man he came with, first I have to make that weirdo smile.” Hank just laughed and shook his head as he walked away to get the drinks.

He brought me mine and I began to move the straw around in a circle. I was aware of everything happening around me, but I pretended to be engrossed in my drink. I felt a man come up behind me and I silently thanked God. This was exactly what I needed.

“Hey sexy, how are you doing tonight?” The man slurred. I turned to him and smiled, leaning in and portraying positive body language that indicated that I was interested in this new suitor. I could feel the other man’s eyes on me, no doubt Hank had just given him the drink I paid for and pointed me out.

Only for this frat man to come up and speak to me. Once I knew the cute nerd was watching me, I changed my body language. This new guy was clearly a retired frat boy who was way too drunk to make any sense. He started to move closer and I didn’t have to pretend I was uncomfortable.

Hank came over and accidentally spilled on the guy, causing him to get angry and huff away. I thanked him, going back to my drink when I felt a new presence beside me.

“Uhm…” The person said and cleared their voice. “Th-thank you for the drink, I really appreciate it.” I looked up at him and smiled.

From afar, he does seem to be a bit of a moody, skinny nerd. But up close, I couldn’t deny how attractive he was. He was at least 6’ tall, and at 5’4” I was immediately turned on by his slightly dominating presence. He was well dressed, had a jawline that could cut me, and hair messy but in a purposeful way. It was curly and framed his face and I felt myself imagine running my fingers through it.

Maybe I had too much to drink.

“I’m Y/N,” I said and smiled.

“Spencer.” He replied with a nod.

“Do you like to dance, Spencer?” I asked. I think I already knew the answer.

“Uhm, actually, I’m not all that--“ I laughed, cutting him off.

“I guess I should’ve phrased that differently.” I said. “Dance with me, Spencer.” I pulled him onto the dance floor and could tell he was mortified. I took his hands in mine and placed them on my hips and I started to move back and forth in time to the music. I saw him look at his feet, but pretty soon he was loosening up and moving more easily.

“So, uhm, what do you do?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation going despite the loud music. I moved my body closer to him, pressing myself against him and leaning up to whisper in his ear, a trick I know turned on nearly every guy on the planet.

“You don’t care what I do, and I don’t care what you do. In fact, I don’t even want to know your last name.” He froze and stopped moving, but I moved my hand to the back of his neck, getting more leverage.

“You wanna know what I do know, Spencer?” I saw him gulp and nod and I moved closer so he could still feel my hot breath on his neck.

“I know that you’ve been trying to hide the fact that I turn you on. I know that the second I pulled you onto this dance floor you noticed I wasn’t wearing panties. And I know the second I walk out of this bar, you’re gonna follow me, and we’re gonna have an unforgettable night.” I pulled away and looked at the stunned look on his face.

I grinned and turned around, walking back to my table, leaving him standing alone on the dance floor, surrounded by sweaty, writhing bodies.

“You can keep your dibs, Katie.” I said when I got back to my table. My friends laughed and whooped as I grabbed my phone and wallet and walked to the door. “See you guys tomorrow!”

***

Spencer quickly dodged and weaved his way through the crowd.

“Uhm, Morgan, can I talk to you?” He asked quickly. Morgan realized something was wrong and stood up as Spencer pulled him to the side. “A beautiful woman asked me to go home with her.” He said. Derek just laughed, realizing that nothing was actually wrong with Spencer.

“Alright, good for you kid!” He said and punched Spencer on the shoulder.

“I think I’m gonna go with her.” Reid responded.

“Good!” Morgan said. Spencer saw Y/N pass their table and was relieved that Garcia, Emily, and JJ didn’t notice her.

“There she goes now.” Spencer said and watched as Y/N approached the door. Derek turned, but was only able to see her hips sway as she walked.

“Damn.” He said. “If her front is at hot as her back, I’ll fight you for her.” He said with a laugh. Spencer just looked terrified. “Reid, I’m kidding. Go get her!”

***

I began to walk down the DC street when I heard footsteps jog to catch up to me. I knew I must’ve been drunker than I realized, as it was hard to walk in a straight line and I wasn’t cold in the October breeze.

Spencer fell into step and walked next to me.

“I live right up here,” I said, pointing to the apartment building on the corner. It truly was a blessing living a block away from such a great bar. He nodded, and I could tell he was nervous as he kept fidgeting.

We approached my building and it wasn’t long before I was unlocking the door and tossing my keys on the counter.

“Alexa, weekend night lights on please.” Immediately the LED lights that were strung around my apartment turned on, on a low, soft orange color. “Make yourself at home.” I said and walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses.

I came back to the living room to find Spencer squatting/kneeling next to my record player, picking an old Al Green album and putting it on.

“Good choice,” I replied as I poured the wine. He came over and I handed him a glass. Without my heels, our height difference was even more noticeable.

“Drink up,” I said with a wink. “You are much more sober than I am, and clearly that needs to change.”

“Is that so?” Spencer replied as he took a sip. “And why are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Alcohol raises the levels of GABA, which is a chemical neurotransmitter in our brain. It’s obvious I make you nervous, the more you drink, the more your blood pressure and heart rate come down and dopamine levels go up, physically making you less nervous.” I said.

My eyes widened the second I realized I had just had what my friends referred to as an “Y/N moment”.

“Sorry, I just… Can we forget I didn’t just ruin the mood with some stupid science facts.” I said, my hands shaking a bit. I was used to guys being intimidated by my intelligence, and this guy was cute. I didn’t wanna lose what could be a great night.

Immediately the dynamic between us changed. I was used to being the dominant one, but now that I was embarrassed, I no longer had the upper hand. My rambling seemed to cause a change in Spencer. He seemed to stand up straighter, his hands weren’t shaking, and his jawline was hard and sexy.

“So tell me this then.” Spencer said and took a step closer, lowering the distance between us. “Since you’re drinking too, should I assume that I make you nervous as well?”

This man was completely different than the one I had met in the bar. His voice was lowered and raspy, his eyes staring into mine, not bothering to break eye contact. I was shocked at the difference. Already turned on by him before, this change just made things even hotter.

“Uhm…” I said, putting down my wine glass to avoid looking at or answering him.

He took my chin in his hands, forcing my head up to look at him. “I do make you nervous, don’t I, Y/N?” He asked in that low, sexy voice.

“Uhm-“ “Uhm isn’t an answer.” He said forcefully. “What do you want?” He asked.

“I…”

“Y/N, look at me.” He said, moving his body as close as he could without pressing it against me and putting his large hands on the side of my waist.

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, “What do you want?” I looked up at him, eyes wide.

“You.” I breathed out, barely a whisper. That was all it took. Spencer quickly moved his hands from my waist to behind my thighs, picking me up and slamming my back against the wall. He connected our lips, moving in a quick dance. I felt like I was inhaling him, his scent, the way his mouth tasted, the way his hands moved on my body.

He moved to kiss my neck, sucking and biting and making his way toward my chest as I gasped. “Bedroom,” I said. “Please.” Pleading was apparently a turn on for Spencer, as he continued to pick me up, holding my body against him as he found his way into the bedroom.

He tossed me onto the bed, and I grabbed the remote for the LED lights, turning them onto a dark red. Spencer climbed on top of me, connecting our lips once more. He started to push my dress up and I could tell immediately what he wanted. I tried to pull his shirt off, but couldn’t focus enough to get it off. I whimpered and my head fell back as he ran a hand from my knee up my thigh, stopping right before he got where I wanted him.

“Please,” I breathed, tugged on his shirt. He got up from on top of me to kneel and pulled his shirt off in one quick, sexy motion. He pulled my dress up further over my head and I was acutely aware of the fact that I was completely naked and Spencer was staring at my body.

“Holy fuck,” he said under his breath, staring at me like a starving man stares at a delicious meal. I wanted him to ravish me, and I could tell that’s exactly what he wanted.

“Spencer,” I whined as his hands started to move slowly up and down my thighs. “Please,” I begged. His eyes were dark, and we didn’t break eye contact as he shifted positions so his face was right in front of my dripping pussy. I could feel his hot breath and I squirmed, grabbing at any part of him I could reach, trying to get him to touch me in any way.

“Someone’s eager,” he said. He finally broke eye contact, now staring at my pussy. He moved closer and slowly put his tongue on me, moving slowly up and down my slit, barely touching me. It was enough for me to whine again, and close my eyes instinctively.

I grabbed his hair, trying to pull his face closer to me. I squirmed, but he continued to tease me, barely letting his tongue touch me.

“Please Spencer please,” I begged and pulled his hair harder. He kept his tongue barely touching me, but grabbed my wrists with his strong hands. He placed them on the bed beside me, allowing me to grab onto the sheets beneath us.

He spread my legs and knees so I was fully exposed to him. He was no longer teasing me with his tongue, but staring at my pussy again.

“If you move your hands or your legs, I’m gonna stop and start over. Understood?” He said. I nodded.

“I can’t hear you.” He said.

“Yes, I understand.” I breathed out. He gave me a smirk and didn’t break eye contact as he connected his tongue with my throbbing pussy. Immediately I moaned and couldn’t help but move one of my hands, grabbing out for him.

He pulled away. I whimpered once again.

“What did I tell you?” Spencer growled and put my hand back. “Don’t. Move.” He went back to eating me out, starting slow and focusing on swirling and sucking on my clit. I started breathing heavily, in total bliss. Never did I expect this man to have such an amazing tongue. He started to go faster and my legs started to snap shut.

Spencer stopped again, fixed my legs, and started from the beginning, slowly licking my pussy. I squirmed and bucked my hips, doing anything I could to get more connection from him on me.

He continued this pattern, edging me with just his tongue, starting over every time I moved too much.

“Please, Spencer, please.” I said. “More.” I felt him grin against my pussy.

“What was that?” he asked, pulling away slightly.

“More, Spencer, I need more, please.” He continued to eat me out, faster and faster, my head falling back onto the pillow. I got closer and closer to the edge when I felt him slowly insert one long finger into me, sliding it slowly in and out as he continued to eat me out. I gasped and couldn’t help but reach out for him.

“Uh uh uh,” he said and shook his head. “Do you like being a bad girl? Do you like being teased?” He asked. He was no longer eating me out, but I felt his finger slowly curl inside me, eliciting a moan from my mouth.

“Please Spencer,” I said quietly. “I’m so close to the edge, please, can I please cum?” He gave me another devilish grin. He slid another finger into me, which I guess was his answer.

His tongue was still swirling on my clit as his two fingers began to curl inside me. I tried to keep my legs and arms where he wanted them, but I could feel my entire body shaking from the orgasm I was about to have.

Right as I was about to tumble over the edge, I gasped as Spencer pulled out his fingers and backed his face away. I whimpered once again.

“Baby,” I said and pulled him up to me so I could kiss him. “That’s not fair.” I whined with a smirk.

He was still wearing his pants, and I could see his erection pushing again the fabric. “You like teasing me?” I asked and kissed his neck. He groaned in response, turning me on even more.

“I could’ve made you cum ten times by now,” he growled in my ear.

“Then why didn’t you?” I asked between kisses down his jawline.

“I think you already know the answer.” He said with a smirk, his brown curls falling into his face.

“Spencer,” I whispered in his ear. “Flip us over.”

Spencer obviously didn’t need to be told twice. Immediately his arms were around me and flipped us over so he was on his back and I was lying on top of him.

I knelt on the bed and drunkenly fumbled with the belt buckle on his pants. I could feel his chest shake with quiet laughter as I struggled with his belt.

“You’re not as dominant as you pretend you are,” Spencer commented and grabbed my hands and pulled me up to kiss him. I ran my hands down his chest back to the pants that were now gone. I pulled off his boxers, revealed an erection I was not expecting.

Spencer was hung.

He saw my eyes widen and I felt him chuckle again.

“See something you like?” He asked me. I slowly squinted at him, a playful smirk on my lips.

“Maybe…” I said. I grabbed his dick in one hand, wiping the precum down his shaft and putting just the tip in my mouth. I began to swirl my tongue, not moving my hands.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer said and started to pull my hair. I whimpered and started to suck harder, my hand and mouth moving on their own.

I’ve given head plenty of times before, but watching Spencer’s naked frame get so much pleasure from something I was doing… He looked like a Greek statue, so chiseled and pristine, but powerful. Powerful was not what I thought when I first met him.

I continued to stare at him every chance I got, sucking and moving my tongue trying to find what brought him the most pleasure. A string of cusses left his mouth and his grip on my hair tightened.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” he said. I slowed down my movements, eventually ending the way I started, sucking and swirling on the tip, teasing him the way he teased me.

“Did you… Did you just edge me?” Spencer asked, his eyes staring into mine. I smirked, my eyes glinting as I winked at him.

“You pushed me to the edge nearly seven times. I felt like I needed to return the favor.” “Get over here,” he said and sat up, pulling me on him so I was straddling him. “Ride me, baby girl.” I began to kiss his neck as his teased me by rubbing his cock up and down my folds. I bit his neck right as he put his dick all the way in, bucking up his hips to meet me. I gasped, moaning in pleasure.

“Oh fuck Spence,” I said, not even realizing I had called him by a nickname. He played with my nipples in his fingers as he kissed me, my hands looped around his neck to give me leverage as I moved up and down.

Because of the edging, it didn’t take long for us to reach the edge, thankfully together.

“FUCK, Spencer, right there, please, please,” I said as his dick repeatedly hit my g-spot, making me cum. My juices dripped down his cock as he continued to slam into me. My entire body was shaking with pleasure as Spencer fucked me through my orgasm, his occurring almost immediately after as my pussy tightened around him from my orgasm.

He continued to thrust slowly as we came down, eventually collapsing beside one another, out of breath and tingling from the massive orgasms.

It was just a few minutes when I got up from my bed. I wasn’t ashamed of being naked. I found Spencer’s clothes on the floor and tossed them to him. He was sitting on my bed naked, leaning against the headboard with his hands interlaced behind his head, his muscles flexing ever so slightly and accidentally.

I wanted to ride him again, but I knew it was late and I had to be up early on Saturdays.

“I’m going in the shower.” I said curtly, not bothering to look at him as I walked to the bathroom. When I got to the doorway, I turned back to look at him.

“When I get out, you better be gone. Don’t leave any personal contact info, I’ll burn it. Oh, and there are cameras hidden all over the apartment so don’t even try to rob me.” I shut the bathroom door, loud enough to make a point, but not a slam.

***

What kind of person has cameras all over her apartment? Spencer asked himself.

As he pulled on his clothes, he looked around at the bedroom, taking into stock the different possessions, still ever the profiler, even intoxicated. He was finding it hard to focus, he normally barely drank, but somehow this bubbling, impulsive, beautiful girl had not only managed to get him drunk, she managed to get him into bed, which was a massively impressive feat.

Spencer heard the shower turning off, muttered ‘shit’ under his breath and began to walk to the door, making sure he had his wallet, keys, and phone.

The second he got outside, he called an uber (as the metro was no longer operating it was so late). Once he got in the car, he dialed up Derek, knowing that he was probably just finished with a similar night, aka his regular Friday routine.

“Morgan,” Reid said, still out of breath.

“Woah kid, what’d you do, run a marathon?” “Morgan, this girl… She’s amazing.” “Amazing? Damn you really haven’t gotten laid in a while.”

“No, Derek, I’m serious.” Spencer said. “She had a worn out copy of ‘Brave New World’ on her bedside table—”

“Reid, talk slower.” Derek said. “You’re still drunk and I can’t understand you.”

“Sorry,” Spencer said.

“So when are you seeing her again?” Derek asked.

“I’m not.” “You’re NOT?” Derek said, raising his voice.

“She didn’t want to. She didn’t tell me her last name, her age, what she did for a living. All I got was a first name.” “Which is?” Derek asked.

“I kinda wanna keep it a secret. Tonight was amazing and… I don’t want to tamper with the memory by sharing all the details. Does that even make sense?” Spencer asked. Derek laughed, confirming he understood.

“Reid, you’re a profiler. You were in this girls apartment, and in this girl, for hours.” Spencer coughed when he heard the ‘inside this girl’ quip, but Derek just continued. “You must’ve seen something that could help you find her.” “I kinda don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Tonight, she just seemed like… The perfect woman. I know that sounds stupid but that’s how it felt. Maybe it’s just me not getting laid in a while, like you said.” “Well, good job on your first one night stand, pretty boy!” “Hey!” Spencer said. “How’d you know it was my first one night stand?” “I’m a profiler, too, kid. I’m going to bed, see you Monday.”

“See you.” Spencer said and hung up the phone right as the uber pulled in front of his apartment building.

He took off his clothes once more, collapsing on his bed in just his boxers. It was rare that the team got a full weekend off, and Spencer wanted to take advantage of it.

He spent all of Saturday in bed, reading, using his eidetic memory of Friday night’s events as he pleasured himself. His thoughts came back to the girl over and over, the way her body felt, her soft skin, the way her hair tickled him as she kissed his neck.

And when he had finished, his memory brought up other tiny details he didn’t think he remembered. Spencer’s unconscious mind had managed to soak up more information than he thought, and he spent Saturday night dreaming not only of the girl’s body, but of everything else he learned about her as well.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw her smiling face from the bar, the first time she smiled at him.

Sunday morning Spencer was sober enough to put together more details. He remembered the bottle of wine they drank, and remembered the movies in her cabinet. One French filmed piqued his interest as he was hurriedly leaving, it was a movie he hadn’t seen before.

He rented it, spending a lazy Sunday alone on his couch, snacking and watching every movie from her shelf that he hadn’t seen.

***

Monday morning came too fast for the team. They had a whole weekend off, of course they took full advantage of it, walking into the conference room like zombies holding coffee.

“She’s coming today,” Garcia said, reminding everyone. Of course they already remembered.

“Baby girl, relax, I’m sure she’s great.” Derek responded, holding her hand comfortingly.

“Look alive, people,” Hotch said as he walked in the room. “We’ve got our new member joining us today, JJ, what’ve we got?” JJ began to explain the new case, and immediately thoughts of the new girl left the minds of the team. Until there was a curt knock on the door.

“Come in,” Hotch said. Strauss opened the door, stepping inside.

“BAU,” Strauss said. “Meet your new member, Y/N Y/L/N.”

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fic #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds au

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silliusssoddus · 5 years ago

Text

The First Names Concept - Night 3

(Roger Taylor x Reader x Vince Neil)

MASTERLIST

A/N: HI HEY IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! there were a lot of exams

and of course a writing-deleting cycle but i've finally gotten it to a point where 'm sorta content w it

anyways i am so sorry for being all ‘ooh symbolism’ in this part i just...really like fleetwood mac...and i’m kind of trying to do the whole ‘show don’t tell’ thing, but i’m terrible at writing and idk when to use what so...yeah...idk

WARNINGS: very small mention of smut, mentions of people taking drugs (not reader), mentions of coke, weed, alcohol, fluffish and angstish at times, car accident and that’s it

WORD COUNT: 5,456 (a lot of stuff happens folks)

SPECIAL THANKS TO: @scarecrowmax for making sure this doesn’t suck, i appreciate it so much!!

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Elektra Records have signed Mötley Crüe their record deal and they celebrate with Queen. You make amends with both boys, which leads you to the position you were in the first place.

(creds: @taylormaydwithlove)

“Ready Freddie?”

(creds: @getthefckouttahere)

“...grabbed your cheeks, feeling him pull you in for a kiss...”

It was perfectly normal for people to like morning, but some could call you insane for waking up at an ungodly hour just to see the sunrise. But more than often it was because you couldn’t sleep and last night was no exception.

You managed to find your way up to the hotel roof at 5am, seeing the first few orange streaks in the purple-ish clouds, and walked on over closer to the railing.

You wrapped Vince’s jacket - the only thing you could find in the darkness and you couldn’t afford to lose more time finding something else - tighter around your body. Yes, LA had a reputation for being warm all the time, but only when the sun was out.

Thoughts of the past few days flowed through your mind as you saw rays of the orange light flood onto the floor.

Vince was right though, maybe you and Roger weren’t ‘destined to be’. Did that mean you were finally over him? All thanks to Vince himself?

Even if that was the case, you were still mad at him. You wanted to go after the woman and apologise, both on his behalf and your own, but after seeing her with Roger, you began to think that she deserved it.

Turning back around to find a seat, you spotted a metal bench and made yourself somewhat comfy. Your head angled itself so that the back of your head rested on the top of the cold railings, trying your best to ignore how blatantly uncomfortable it felt. Besides, your mind whirred in thought too much for you to even realise it.

Maybe it was how deep in thought you were, or maybe it was because you were starting to fall asleep, but you didn’t realise that Roger had come up to the roof. And you certainly didn’t realise how intently he was admiring you and how you were hugging your knees and staring into the landscape.

“Uh, hey.” he finally cleared his throat to say. You didn’t really have the energy to turn around, especially because you could already recognise the voice.

“Hi.” you returned, failing to meet Roger’s eyes when he made his way over to slump down beside you.

“You didn’t come down for breakfast, so Freddie sent me up to say sorry...or something.”

“I’m late for breakfast? Isn’t it 5?”

Roger let out a sharp laugh at that, so you returned with a look of annoyance. It was way too early to deal with this.

“Maybe it was when you got here.”

You looked down at your watch, eyes widening in shock when you saw that 3 hours had passed.

“Oh whatever, I can wait ‘til lunch.” you relaxed, too tired to even care at this point.

“How did you even know I was here?”

“I guess I know you too well,” he shrugged, “or, at least I thought I did.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re here to talk about. Look, I don’t know how it happened, okay?”

“Yes, but- Y/N I told you I missed you and you just-”

He was struggling, you could tell from the way he paused and groaned in exasperation to let his head fall into his hands.

“You know how unfair that is, right? You had 13 years to say something, but you never did. You brought this on yourself, Roger.”

“I- I know, that’s why I don’t know what to...feel...and Fred wanted me to apologise-”

“It’s alright.” you cut in as a desperate way to help him from struggling so hard.

“H-how do you feel about...me?”

“Rog…” you sighed.

Picking his head up out of his hands, he turned to look at you, his face full of worry when he saw that you still hadn’t moved an inch.

“You know I really like you, I always have and I always will…”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“Everything. Brian, our age-”

“It’s Vince, isn’t it?”

You gave him an irritated sigh again, hoping he’d take it as a sign that you wanted to change the subject. It was the first time the two of you had even discussed what your relationship was, but he could not have picked a worse time to do so.

Giving up, he finally realised the position your neck was in and let out a little chuckle, in hopes that it would be enough to change the topic and lighten the mood.

“Is that even comfortable?”

“Not really,” you laughed in return, “but it’s the only thing that’s stopping the throbbing in my head.”

“Course you got a sore head, you’ve drunk two nights in a row. Uh, here.”

You looked up to see him patting his shoulder and decided it would be better to rest there instead. He used one of of his hands to guide your head, before snaking down your shoulders to place itself on your arm. You grinned to yourself when you felt his hand rubbing your shoulder, while the other rested on the bare skin of your leg, lazily and platonically.

“This might...sound weird...but have you ever thought about what you want to do? I mean, you can’t be around us forever.”

“Christ, you sound exactly like Brian.” you giggled.

“Well he’s right, y’know, you have to find something to spend the rest of your life doing.”

“But I literally can’t do anything. Like, I barely even went to school, because half of the time you guys were too tired or too busy writing songs to drive me there. The only time I actually went was when Oliver’s parents drove me.”

“Oh yeah, Oliver. Never liked that chap. He seemed distracted all the time. But he had you as a girlfriend, I don’t blame him.”

Your cheek grew warmer against his shoulder, but as soon as he realised what he had let slip out, he did everything he could to stop you from talking about it further.

“And don’t say that you can’t do anything, ‘cause I’ve heard you play the organ.”

“God, you’re a genius, I could get a job in a church!”

For some reason, he seemed to think that was the funniest joke in the world, seeing that his chest was rising up and down rapidly as he bellowed in laughter. You joined him, equally as amused, letting yourself get distracted from the conversation you had managed to throw away.

“Hey, uh, speaking of the organ. Freddie managed to seal Vince’s band their record deal and they really want us to be there for their first official concert, to say thanks and whatever, and Freddie suggested we do ‘The Chain’, ‘cause that’s your favourite song...and because you’re the only one that can play the organ...”

“Absolutely not.”

You loved ‘The Chain’. You loved Stevie Nicks, her voice, her words and the meaning behind them. But you had always associated that song with Roger.

“What? Why?”

“For starters, I’m still mad at the both of you.” you said, sitting up straight out of his arm.

“But you’re not mad at Brian, Freddie or John. And you haven’t met the rest of the band. You’d absolutely love Tommy, he’s like a child in an adult body. Reminds me a lot of you.”

“Fuck you too.” you snorted.

“Oi, watch your mouth.” he chuckled in return.

A few seconds of silence passed again as you weighed your options for what you could do.

“Alright fine. But only because I’m not letting Brian down. Or Stevie Nicks.”

He laughed again, watching as you got up off the bench and were headed back indoors.

“I look ridiculous.” you told Freddie, standing in front of a mirror as he zipped the back of your purple leather dress.

It looked as if a low neck, leather top was sewed onto a flared, leather skirt, while being horribly tight around you. But you weren’t going to lie by saying you didn’t look great.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this self conscious in my 26 years of living.”

“Oh, don’t be so fucking daft, darling, you look fantastic.” he said, smearing some bright red lipstick on your lips. You had done everyone else’s makeup in that hour, but you spent a little while longer on Roger as a result of him mucking around.

“You know you look absolutely gorgeous in anything. And you already have two men drooling over you, imagine what they’d be like after seeing you like this.”

He fluffed up your hair again as a final touch for your outfit and gave you a toothy, reassuring smile.

“On the subject of those two men...can I ask you something?” you said, giggling slightly at his comment.

“Always, love.”

“When we went to see them live, I noticed that Stevie and Lindsey kept looking at each other, like they were singing this song to each other. And it made sense, ‘cause, y’know, that’s what the song’s about - them not wanting to lose their love, because if they did they’d never get it back.”

“And you were wondering who you should sing it to?”

You nodded, letting a sigh out along with it.

Freddie noticed that both bands were just an earshot away and if they concentrated, they would definitely be able to hear your concentration.

“I can’t speak for your mind, darling. Just go with what’s natural.”

“That would be Roger.”

“There you have it.”

“But-”

“Vince is quite alluring, isn’t he?”

“And he told me something really...wise, to be honest. He said if we were meant to date, we would’ve by now.”

“That is a good point. But listen-”

Before he could tell you anything else, the stage manager had knocked on the door and warned you all that there were only 5 minutes left until they were expected onstage.

You and Freddie both made your way back to the boys, not at all surprised to be greeted by wolf whistles and cheers from the younger ones. The fact that their leather jackets had the same ridiculous studs and patterns as your skirt eased your nerves a bit, because you didn’t feel as embarrassed. Besides, you were more than used to trying on Freddie’s and Roger’s clothes in the past. This was nothing compared to that.

“Leather really suits you, Y/N.” Roger commented with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, especially that jacket that I gave you. You gonna wear it?” Vince tried his luck.

You had been giving him the silent treatment from the moment you got here. Sure, you couldn’t help laughing at the greeting he yelled when he saw you (“Ah, the royal fuckers made it!”), but besides that you wanted him to know what he did was bad.

“Actually, I wanted to give it back. It’s not like I was gonna keep it anyways.” you snapped, grabbing the jacket you slung over a chair earlier so that you could shove it on his chest.

Subconsciously, you found your eyes flickering up to meet his and it made you stop your actions altogether. There was a hint of sadness in them, like they were screaming ‘red from crying myself to sleep last night’, but it could’ve easily been ‘red from smoking a blunt’. It wasn’t easy to tell from a guy like Vince.

Maybe you were misjudging him though, because ‘a guy like Vince’ wouldn’t be this affected by his mistake only because of the girl he cheated with.

Girl he cheated with. You felt disgusting. But the feeling couldn’t stay for long, thanks to your own empathy. You blamed Brian for the fact that you care too much.

“Actually, it might look good with the purple on my dress.” you spoke softly, taking your arm back to put the jacket on.

It was a way of forgiving Vince, because if anyone would know how it felt to act out because you had feelings for someone, it was you.

John walked toward you with his blue shirt and the same leather jacket as everyone else. It was hilarious, you felt like a motorcycle gang of rainbows, having guitarists in red, the singers in yellow, drummers in green, bassists in blue and you in purple. He was the last one to meet them, having to perfect the curly mess of hair on his head so that his furious bopping onstage wouldn’t ruin it.

“Looking good, D!” Tommy said, greeting him with a high five.

“Yeah, yeah, took you long enough.” Roger grumbled, picking up the drum stick he had managed to drop due to attempting one of Tommy’s drumstick twirls. He seemed to give out another huff of annoyance after you, John and Tommy - the only ones that saw what happened - laughed at him.

“Right. Let’s get going, shall we?” Brian said, managing to peel himself away from a very deep conversation about guitars with Mick and turned to lead both bands to the wings of the stage, holding various doors open for them along the way.

There was no doubt that the nervousness was visible in the younger band. John managed to calm Tommy down and talk him out of drinking right before the show, Freddie kept reminding Nikki how proud he was of them, Roger was trying his best not to bite Vince’s head off but gave him useful tips to ease the nerves and Mick and Brian lagged behind, laughing at them.

You noticed Freddie’s jolly expression turn to that of concern when he looked from the stage and back to you. Returning with furrowed eyebrows, which he then answered by nodding over to the stage, you immediately grew more nauseous.

The stage was set perfectly for the situation you were in. The organ was placed so that you faced both the drumkit and the microphones. Great.

You let out a shaky sigh as both John and Freddie gave you a reassuring pat on the back, before turning to give Brian a hug. Despite having made fun of the boys, he tended to be the most nervous one before shows, so you couldn’t even being to think how scared he was to perform with another band.

“What if they hate it?” he said as you pulled out of the hug.

“Bri, you’re asking me if people’ll hate one of England’s greatest bands.” you said with a teasing chuckle.

“Don’t worry, everyone loves it when there’s a change of routine. You of all people should know that, being in a band with Freddie Mercury.”

“Huh, and people call me the smart one. Thanks, sis.” he laughed, before turning around to set up his guitar.

With a scoff of disbelief, you decided to join Freddie and Vince as they were vocalising and warming up their voices, but it shortly turned into a competition of who could reach the highest note.

Of course you won out of the three, using your higher pitched voice as an advantage, but Vince came very near to beating you.

“Ah, it seems like Roger’s got competition.” Freddie had joked, causing everyone onstage (apart from Roger) to erupt into laughter.

That was over as soon as it started, seeing as the stage managers in the wings were frantically waving for silence onstage so that they could flip the spotlights on.

“Please put your hands together for Mötley Crüe!” you heard from the loudspeakers around you. It emitted a tiny roar of excitement, nothing compared to the reaction Queen got.

“And joining them tonight, England’s royal highness, Queen!”

The curtains drew back and you were suddenly greeted by the faces of thousands, screaming and chanting their names like bloody murder. They seemed like restless, tiny blobs of colour, the way you always perceived the audience to be ever since Roger used it to calm you down.

It was right before a gig at the Rainbow back in London. Both Brian and Freddie had insisted that you sang and played with them for one song and you gave in, but you were an easily frightened teenager and didn’t know what to do. Roger spent the day calming you down to the point where you ran onstage with nothing but confidence.

“Ready Freddie?” Roger repeated the words he was so used to before every show.

Freddie gave him and Tommy both a nod to start their drumming before turning to give you a nod to start playing.

And it went really well. Everything was perfect. Your high pitch matched with Freddie’s and Vince’s low tones, the organ sound fit perfectly along with Brian and Mick’s guitars, which you could keep in time with thanks to Tommy and Roger on the drums. Nikki had nothing to do for the time being, so John had kept him occupied by teaching him a few moves that he clumsily followed.

The audience enthusiastically clapped along with the two drummers, on the edge of their seats to see how brilliantly the two sounds were going to mix during the chorus.

But as soon as you thought all of your own fears had melted away, you made a mistake. Not a noticeable one that ruined both bands’ reputation, but one that was sure to ruin your relationship with one of the ‘two men drooling over you’.

You looked up and met Vince’s eyes.

“And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again...”

You wanted to break the eye contact, but the audience was going absolutely ballistic and the giddiness on his face when he took the small action as a way to confirm that you weren’t mad at him anymore gave you double the guilt you already had. You knew that Mötley Crüe needed this. It was a good way to kick start their band, a way to gain more popularity by actually putting on a show for the audience.

And because you were set on doing things for the audience, you let Vince pull you up from the organ seat and lead you by the hand to the centre of the stage during the little bass solo. The two of you bobbed your heads in time to the gradual crescendo of the drums and you let out a yelp when Vince picked you up by the waist, spinning you around a couple times.

As you were gasping and squealing along with the audience, Vince used his hands to ensure your legs were wrapped around his waist before sliding around your waist. By letting your head fall in the crook of his neck, you deepened the hug.

“Chain, keep us together.” you sang into Vince’s mic once you were on the ground again.

“Running in the shadows.” he sang back, leaning over your shoulder so that his arms stayed wrapped around your waist. His lips then fell on your shoulder to give a quick peck.

Tommy noticed how the drummer’s arms swung down harder by each second, the expression on his face growing angrier.

“Yo!” he hissed to Roger, then doing it louder the second time when the first one failed to get his attention.

“If you break the toms, you’re paying for a whole kit.”

“Sorry.” Roger mumbled, returning his strength back to the softness it was before.

The song ended and Vince made you curtsey (while the rest of Queen bowed, of course) before giving you a kiss on the cheek and a teasing slap on the ass to send you off backstage.

And you didn’t think much of it, because it was only for the audience.

It was only for the audience.

The sentence was the only thing that kept Roger calm.

It was only for the audience.

Vince didn’t mean it and you didn’t actually choose him.

You were sat on the floor of the band’s apartment, chatting away with a drunk/slightly high Nikki and finding out that the two of you were more similar than you thought you were.

The topic of parents came up when you noticed a lady had walked over to you, holding out a plate with two lines of coke. Nikki looked ecstatic, rubbing his hands together before picking up the tiny, metal straw. He looked at your blank expression and pointed to the second straw on the plate in confirmation.

“Oh, I don’t-”

“Just one line. I promise I won’t make you an addict.” he laughed.

“I’m good, thank you though.” you laughed in return.

And just on cue, Freddie had waltzed his way over.

“Yo Fred! Want a line?”

“Course I do!” he exclaimed, picking up the straw and copying Nikki’s movements from before.

“I didn’t know cocaine was your thing, Fred.”

“Neither did I. But it doesn’t hurt to try new things. Have a great night, darlings. Ta!” he cheered, getting up to turn on his heel and walk away.

You were about to ask Nikki for a line yourself, but Tommy shortly stumbled toward you after Freddie had left.

“Y/N...I have a serious question for you.” he spoke, forcing creases on his forehead to show that he was indeed being serious. It concerned you, if you were being honest.

“Sure…”

“Are you a witch?” he continued, still no sign of it being a joke on his face.

But you did notice that there was something off in his eyes and you turned to Nikki for help. He only mouthed the word ‘drugs’ and gave a very drawn out nod to ensure that you understood, which you showed by laughing.

“And why do you think that?”

“‘Cause Vince is going crazy about you, dude! It’s like you’ve got him in a spell or some shit. Look.”

And sure enough, you heard the repetitive chanting of your name, accompanied by the blonde singer hopping around the place.

“It’s fucking wild, man. He’s never done this for any other girl.”

You felt your cheeks heating up wildly at the realisation, more so when he decided to add the words ‘I’ and ‘love’ in the mix.

“Who’s up for a beer drinking contest?” he suddenly screamed, evoking a loud cheer from everyone at the party.

There was only one voice that didn’t do the same.

“We don’t have any fucking beers, dumbass.” Mick chuckled.

“Well, I’ll go get some.” he slurred, stumbling his way over to the ashtray in which his car keys were, but falling before he had the chance to even stand up properly.

“Take Y/N with you. She’s the only sober one here.” Tommy chipped in, earning drunk nods of the head from the rest of the boys that wanted you two to make up.

Roger himself nodded, too enticed in an argument with a woman about how bad Queen’s music was. But he didn’t seem mad, rather the opposite. They kept giving each other teasing touches and you suddenly didn’t want to be sober anymore.

You managed to steal Vince’s bottle of vodka and take a swig from it as you were walking out of the house, resulting in him giving out a cry at his stolen good.

“Shit...I didn’t bring my license.” you huffed after you had ruffled through your purse.

“‘S fine, I can drive.” he mumbled, slamming his hip square against the back of his car.

“You sure about that?” you giggled, tightening your grip around the neck of the bottle when he tried to grab for it.

“I know these roads like the back of my hand, pretty lady. And you know how much I look at that.” he winked.

His hands fumbled on his car keys, but eventually managed to put the key in and start the car. For a drunk man, he was surprisingly good at driving, but you guessed it was just muscle memory.

The car radio played softly, tinkling out different hits from the 70s. Vince drunkenly nodded along to the beat of the songs, singing along if he knew the words or looking over to you singing and laughing at the exaggerated movements you made to the love songs.

You loved the way he laughed. You loved the way his teeth glistened and his eyes shone when he did and how the night lights enunciated all of that. The sound itself was boyish and charming and made your heart soar every time you heard it and washed away some of the fears you had letting a drunk man drive.

“Wait wait wait...I need to pull over.” he stated after 5 songs, slowing the car down and parking it on the sidewalk.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“...I want a blowjob.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake Vince.” you laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

“No don’t worry, that’s not the reason.”

The smirk he gave you before he left the car made you fear for your life even more.

He appeared once again, now right outside the car door, and opened it up for you.

“M’lady.” he kept the smirk, earning a playful kiss on the cheek from you as you got out of the car.

He took your hand and lead you in the direction of a tatty, old and seemingly abandoned building, with its door broken so anyone could come in. There were no signs, but it screamed ‘keep out’. And Vince didn’t obey.

He dragged you through the endless corridor, which was only lit up by a few lamps scattered on the walls here and there, but you eventually managed to end up in a place that felt colder. Dragging you to a stop, he slammed his hand on the wall and activated some kind of switch that lit up the pool in front of you.

“This place always looks better at night.” he spoke proudly.

“Vince, why are we here?” you asked, trying your best not to sound as irritated as you were.

As you stood there grumbling to yourself, you didn’t notice that Vince had put you on the perfect spot right on the edge of the pool and had lined his hands on your shoulders to push you in.

You fell in with a scream and a loud splash, flailing your arms and legs around desperately to get above water.

Seeing Vince collapsing to the ground in laughter sent something through you. It wasn’t anger or irritation - you just wanted to find a way to get back. So you swam up to the edge and had him perch closer to you.

His childish grin and droopy, naïve eyes almost made you feel bad for even planning your impromptu revenge, so you decided to take it easy on him. You bunched up the front of his shirt and pulled him toward you with your lips puckered, but ducked under the water before your lips could touch. It caused him to tumble into the pool beside you and a louder fit of laughter from you.

“You asshole! I can’t swim!” he gargled, swinging his arms around in desperate need of something to grab on.

A pang of guilt hit you in the chest and you immediately made your way over to him, avoiding the splashes of water the best you could. But as soon as he had access to your shoulders, he found a way to push you down underwater, completely off-guard so you didn’t have the chance to take a deep breath, and kept you there for a few seconds.

When you came back up, you were fuelled with nothing but anger. Maybe a little bit of hysteria along with it.

“Wanker!”

You managed to send a huge wave of water crash over him with your arm, to which he returned the favour and did the same, and things continued like that for a bit. Until he dived down at the same time as you and grabbed your cheeks, feeling him pull you in for a kiss.

Slowly, your laughter came to a halt after the two of you came back up for air, him getting a chance to get a hold of your legs and wrap them around his waist for you. It also gave you both a chance to look into each other’s eyes properly, like when you were in the bathroom, or when you were onstage.

There was still that sense of awe in the way he looked back at you and it was still evident despite the alcohol. It warmed your heart to see, but it didn’t feel right at the same time.

“Stop thinking.” he grumbled, wading through the water over to the edge of the pool with you still in his hold.

“What d’ya mean?” you queried when he hoisted you up onto the concrete surface again.

“Lemme show you.” he stated, reaching over to the jacket he smartly placed on the poolside before you pulled him in. You hadn’t even noticed he had bought his Polaroid along with him, due to the fact that the bag holding the camera was hidden under his jacket.

(thank daniel webber for inspiring this part, i love his photography)

“Say cheese!” he said after pulling the camera out, drawing out the ‘e’ in an adoring manner.

So you gave him a big smile as you were blinded by the flash for a few seconds, but when he looked at what he had taken, you saw that the smile on his own face had disappeared.

“What’s wrong?” you pushed when he didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“You’re thinking.” he repeated, showing you the picture. You couldn’t see what was wrong, though.

“The light from the pool fills your eyes and your face perfectly. You’re so fucking gorgeous. But your smile ain’t right, babe.”

You bit your lip, not because you didn’t understand what he meant, but you were scared of what he was implying.

“You wish I was Roger, don’t you?”

The sentence hit harder than it was supposed to. Even Vince could see that.

“I- Vince-”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can take you back.” he hummed sadly, hoisting himself onto the poolside next to you.

“No- Vince, please, I want to be here.” you said, but even he could detect the uncertainty in your words.

“I want you.” you corrected yourself

“Then prove it.”

You pulled him by the neck for a rough, messy kiss, causing him to topple onto you. But he pulled away as quick as the kiss started.

“I’d continue if it wasn’t for those two cockblockers standing there.” he answered your confused expression.

You turned to look at what Vince was referring to, only to meet the eyes of two scary-looking security guards (that’s what you assumed they were at least) towering over the two of you with stern faces and crossed arms.

“You’ve got 5 seconds to leave before we call the cops.”

With that, Vince leapt off you and pulled you up with him so that you could bolt out the building into your car again, laughing like mad men along the way.

“That was the most embarrassing to ever happen to me.” you half-mumbled, half-laughed to yourself.

“Let’s get these fuckin’ beers!” he whooped, igniting the car once more and speeding down the road.

It didn’t take long for Vince to drive to the nearest gas station and use his rockstar money to get 8 boxes of 8 cans of beer, which he then had to buckle a seatbelt over because it was his ‘duty as a father to protect his children’ and ‘you’re the mother, you should be concerned about their safety too’.

The ride back to their apartment had a lot of stopping and starting again, as Vince kept his hand on your thigh and couldn’t help going further. You had to frequently scold him and tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but of course he didn’t want to.

‘Baby, It’s You’ started to play on the radio and the two of you simultaneously went to turn the volume up. Vince then rolled down all the windows so that everyone in their cars and their pet dogs could hear the song and your voices harmonising/borderline screaming.

But Vince didn’t keep his eyes on the road at all and you were having too much fun to notice. He leant in to your side to try and steal a kiss, but he pulled the steering wheel in the same direction without realising it. The car skidded and spun in the direction of the grassy field next to you and before you had the chance to grab the wheel and put the car back on track, two blinding lights suddenly appeared in the darkness with a blaring noise you assumed was the horn.

The only sounds you could hear after that was the shattering of glass, the screeching of both cars attempting to break and the song quietly playing in the background. Only, it wasn’t The Beatles’ soothing vocals, nor was it Vince’s.

“I love you too, Roger.”

“Holy shit.”

TAGLIST: @lifesasickjoke @slowandangry @rrrogah-tayluhh @fatbottomedgorl @ugly-shirts-girl @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @kawennote09 @totallynotkaibiased @amy-brooklyn99 @hannafuckingsucks @miss2001babe @anxious-diabetic @drowsebaby

PART 4

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ninzied · 6 years ago

Text

another kind of goodbye

for @carry-the-sky. happy birthday, my friend! have a little post-cancellation kastle fic.

It’s three months, give or take, when Frank lets himself think about her again. Really think about her. Not in the passing kind of way, where he’s walking down some street and sees a bouquet of gardenias, like the kind he’d almost gotten her instead of the roses that day. Or when he’s sipping on coffee, and Karen’s face flashes like a mirage at him across the cheap Formica table – blonde hair almost white under the shit diner lighting, but those eyes still so blue as she told him he would never lie to her.

So – okay, so he thinks about her. He thinks about her.

(He wonders if she—)

Frank eventually makes his way back to the city again, after. Another day, another job. Madani thinks he’s meant for something greater than this – than picking off these scum-of-the-earth kinds of assholes that litter the streets of a place like New York.

He can’t believe that he was meant for greater, but. Sometimes, he does wonder. If a part of him – whatever part of him that’s not still buried deep down in the ground with his family – was meant to come back here. To walk these streets and feel the pull of her, always, even when that’s all he can afford to feel.

He tells himself that has to be enough.

He’s been laying low, since his return. Coughed up some cash for a three-hundred-square-footer in Brooklyn, but he crosses the bridge to the city most days, maybe even finds his way to Hell’s Kitchen from time to time too. It’s risky, he knows. If Murdock catches wind of him, they’d be lucky to walk away from each other in one piece. And Karen…

There’d be a different kind of hell to pay, if Karen ever found out.

His phone gives a single buzz in his pocket as he’s hunkering his way down 47th, and he stops in his tracks, nearly colliding with an elderly woman in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Excuse me!” she says in a shrill voice, bag clutched tight to her chest.

“Apologies, ma’am,” he nods as she makes a show of putting as much distance between them as possible, and then he fishes his phone out, hesitating for one absurd moment before glancing down at the screen.

Back in town yet, Castle?

He barks out a laugh. Chrissakes, Madani.

His phone buzzes again.

I have a job for you, if you’re still interested.

“Still,” mutters Frank, with a scoffing shake of his head. He thinks he admires her perseverance, but Madani’s gotta know she’s only wasting her breath.

He cuts south down 10th, toward Lincoln Tunnel. It’s a brisk day, and the wind on his face feels sharper than usual, considering he hasn’t bled much there in a while. He jams his hands deeper into his pockets, ignoring the insistent drone of Madani’s follow-up call.

He’s got a date with a park bench on the wrong side of town, and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend it’s the same bridge overlooking the water, and when he opens them again Karen’ll be there, waiting for him.

…

His closest call comes with, of all people, the lawyer. Not Red – the other one. Franklin Nelson.

Frank’s emerging with coffee two storefronts down just as another door opens, and he’s cursing himself for not seeing the signs when out tumbles Nelson with his back turned, adjusting his tie against the wind.

“Foggy bear, wait!” someone else is laughing, and a blonde lady steps out to chase after him, slinging a purse over her shoulder and reaching with her other hand to link around his elbow.

“I told him this was gonna make me late for work,” grumbles Nelson, but without any heat to the words. “Dad’s surprise party isn’t until tomorrow, don’t know why this couldn’t have waited – oh, crap, I forgot I told Karen I’d pick up some coffee—”

Nelson’s about-facing sharply, girlfriend following closely behind. He doesn’t appear to notice Frank crouched down in a corner by the 7-Eleven, hood obscuring half his face as he trains his eyes on the ground by their feet. The girl unearths some coins from her bag as they pass, clinking them onto the lid of Frank’s coffee cup without seeming to hear his low mutter of thanks.

He’s leapt up the moment he hears the door latch shut, brushing the coins into his palm as he goes.

He leaves them with a guy camped out by the train stop, a dog lifting her head from their blankets to blink sleepy eyes up at Frank, and he walks away harder, takes the steps two at a time and wishes – God he wishes—

…

Another text from Madani.

He shuts his phone off. Goes back to retrieve it ten seconds later from the trash can that he’d dumped it in, wiping it down and scowling as her message pops up on the screen.

Castle – offer still stands, FYI.

“You should call her back,” advises a man huddled down by the newsstands next to him. His face is like leather, worn down and weathered with age, with living. “Apologize for whatever it is that you did, so you don’t end up out here like me.”

“Already there,” Frank tells him, turning the phone over and over in his hand. Madani’s message lights up again each time, flashing and flashing until he sees it like a burn through his retinas even when the phone’s no longer facing him.

“Damn. That’s a damn shame.” The guy shifts, scratching at a spot on his back. “Maybe shouldn’t’ve stayed away from her for so long.”

Frank shakes his head, uttering a short, incredulous laugh. “Well, maybe I got my reasons, yeah? You think about that?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” shrugs the guy. “Does she think they’re any good? These reasons of yours?”

Frank turns away, jaw working furiously.

“Yeah.” The guy shouldn’t have any right to sound as smug as he does, and yet. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

…

He’s got no place in coming here. He knows it. He knows it, but he thinks it was always meant to be this way, him circling back around to her, even after everything that he’s done to push her away. Maybe a part of him had never left. And the rest is just – there, hovering right at the edge of some sharp realization, that he could try to be whole again if he simply took that first step. And a part of Karen must at least sense that. It’s why she’d never really given up on him, before.

It doesn’t change how I feel about you.

Frank wonders if she’d forgive him this time. If he’d even want her to.

It wouldn’t be anything close to what he deserves, that’s for goddamn sure.

He gazes up at her fire escape, counts the number of steps it would take just to be able to reach that bottom rung from his vantage point across the street. Her shades are drawn, the lines of them blurred out in the dim orange light. On one corner of the windowsill, wedged up against the glass, there’s a small stack of books. On the other, a vase. From this angle, the shadows folded into the fabric of her curtains look almost like flower stems.

Frank squints, and the stems disappear.

…

There’s about a week in between, where he feels himself inching closer to something, each time he drops by her block. He never goes farther than the patch of sidewalk across from her building, but it’s getting harder not to just careen over the ledge.

More than anything, he wishes he knew, in those moments obscured in half-darkness, whether he’s come to look for that after she’d spoke of, or if he’s come to say goodbye.

Then, one day he spots flowers in her window, for the first time since—

(They’re pale white against the cream of her curtains, their stems dark slivers of green, and he imagines them pricking the pad of his thumb, drawing up a spot of blood.)

Frank takes a deep breath.

…

She doesn’t look surprised to see him when she opens the door, swinging it back two-thirds of the way before stopping. Her lips are pressed tightly together, like there’s too much to say, or maybe there’s things that she can’t, either way he can’t read her and he thinks she’s never terrified him more.

Frank drops his gaze, mouth moving soundlessly until the words grind their way out. “How’d you know I was here, Karen?”

He’s not sure what kind of answer he’s expecting. That Nelson had grown a real pair of eyes, or that Red had managed to ferret him out of his lurking somehow. Or maybe Karen really just hadn’t known at all, and those flowers were never for him.

What Karen says instead is, “Dinah and I grab a beer together, sometimes.”

“That right?” he asks, trying to lay out an image of this in his mind. It sits strangely there, stumping him for a moment, and some of his bewilderment must show on his face because Karen’s mouth almost turns up in a smile before flattening again.

She leans away from the doorjamb, waving her hand in a worn-looking gesture before letting it drop to her side. “Besides, you…haven’t exactly been subtle, in your haunting of Hell’s Kitchen.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, other than a gruff, “’S’what dead men do, Karen,” as she folds her arms and sighs at him.

“You sure you’re not just losing your touch, Frank?” She steps into the doorway, whether to move closer to him or to block him out of her apartment, he can’t tell. “Or was it because you wanted me to know but couldn’t tell me to my face?”

His eyes snap up to hers, twitching slightly under the sharp weight of her gaze. He shakes his head, wishing he could just ask her, What do you want from me, Karen? but they’re long past that now, and if he can’t find his own way to answer her, then.

God, he really doesn’t deserve this woman.

“I think I—” He shifts his body and tries again. “I think I needed to figure some things out. Karen. I was waiting 'til I felt like I was ready, and I don’t think I’ll ever be that.” But I’m here, he wants to say, but I’m here.

“Yeah.” Karen’s nodding, hair falling into her face, and she brushes it back, resting her chin in her palm for a moment. “I know that, Frank.” All of the fight in her seems to have ebbed slowly back, and he resists the urge to reach out and shake the storm back into motion, to make her understand she doesn’t get to let him off the hook so easy.

The look she gives him now is softer, but he knows. Fight’s not done. May never be done. And he knows this because he knows he’ll never stop fighting for her.

She’s stepped back into the door, letting it swing open further. She doesn’t invite him in, but she’s quirked an eyebrow up at him, biting her lip with another deep sigh and a shake of her head.

“You, uh.” Frank glances back and forth at their surroundings, doesn’t quite meet her eye. Tries to lighten his tone through the gruffness as he asks her, “So, you wanted to see me?”

Her voice is soft, forbearing, with a hint of gentle knowing behind it. “You didn’t?”

She’s holding back the clear start of a smile from him this time, and Frank. Christ. It’s taking everything in him not to step toward her, to—

Karen tilts her chin at him, the motion loosening another wave of blonde hair, and he can’t remember anymore why he was trying so hard to stand back from all this. He’s moving, swaying forward until she’s just an arm’s length away, and there’s something almost teasing about the way she relaxes her shoulder into the door as she watches him.

“You back to kill some people, Frank?”

He feels a corner of his mouth turn up. This girl. He licks his lips, lets out a quiet sort of laugh. “That was the plan, yeah.”

Karen gazes up at him, unblinking. “Have you?”

“I was—” Frank has to look away for a moment, finally turning back when he can. His eyes are steady, boring into hers, voice low and full with meaning. “I was. Working on it.”

Karen nods. Doesn’t speak for long seconds, and he measures them out in heartbeats, chest tightening hard enough it feels like it might break when she asks him, very carefully, “Still?”

Frank steps closer, close enough to feel the way her breath shakes with a small sigh, how her body moves away from the door to meet him.

His hand is inches from hers, but he doesn’t reach for her. Not yet.

She waits, gaze searching. He gives the barest shake of his head, and a single word, gravel-filled, a promise. “No.”

Something cracks open in her expression, and it means everything to him, her head ducking away as though she can’t have him looking too closely at the way she's biting back that smile of hers, and he thinks – he thinks he wants to make her do it again, and again, for as long as she will have him.

“Would you like to come in, Frank?”

He takes her hand in his this time, feeling the pull of her as he steps across the threshold, door shutting firmly behind them, and it feels like coming home.

#kastle #kastleff #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #kastledaily #happy belated birthday haley!!!!!!#sorry for the unpolishedness #i may go back and edit it up a bit later lol #but i wanted to have something for you because you've been so lovely and welcoming!#i can't thank you enough!

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