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hansolmates · 4 years ago

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shiver | 01 (m)

banner done by the wonderful @dnrequests

summary; jungkook changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. when he returns for a christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. in exchange, jungkook craves a taste of you pairing; bad boy!jungkook x church girl!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers, brief childhood friends to enemies, fwb!au, catholic guilt, jungkook is a meanie who eventually turns into a soft tsundere, bicuriosity, sexual exploration, virgin!oc, eventual smut—in this installment: touching over the clothes, mc is hornee, *pulls out cards against humanity* “a gentle caress of the inner thigh”, panty kissin, mc is a big ol’ pushover and hopeful for jkk:(( w/c; 1.9k a/n; it’s here! aaaaaa!!! i’ve been really eally realllyyyyyy nervous to post this. even though this is just a drabble series let me know how you feel about it! enjoy [shiver masterpost]

“Oh, you’re so dead.”

Jeon Jungkook isn’t thaaaat buff, he's more of a skinny kind of muscular. You don’t understand the hype, why everyone croons over Jungkook’s strength and physique. However, how else could you explain Jungkook being able to climb the currently dilapidated fire escape to the top floor of the chapel. The ladder is rusted beyond repair and is definitely a fire hazard rather than a fire escape. Yet he barely breaks a sweat doing it, and he wipes the minor sheen off his brow with the back of his hand. There’s some soot and whatever nasty residue from the fire escape that gets on his face, a black streak marring his already annoying face. He’s currently wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic “hello.” It makes you sneer, your two consciousness (inappropriate and appropriate) warring against each other to determine whether you still find this man attractive or not.

Convincing yourself that Jungkook is ugly is the worst quick-fix idea you’ve ever had.

The words of your Aunties, the family friends in the church, echo in your ears. Jungkook’s bad. They’d say over and over. It would cause you to snort and giggle, unable to imagine what sort of things he’s done to warrant such a cliché label. Yet some of the girls your age, girls that have gone off to college agree with sultry looks and longing eyes that yes, Jungkook’s bad. So bad, it’s good.

You haven’t a clue what he’s actually done to earn such a hushed title, his parents are lip-tight about his doings, unless it’s his achievements in the architecture graduate program. You hear things, though. Things that make you shamefully green with envy, envious of sin.

As soon as he finds proper footing in the storage room, he goes to the closet, immediately finding his backup clothes. They’re plain white button-downs, awkward long shirts with no shape or definition to them. They belong to the church, and no one ever uses them because they’re stiff and itchy. Yet Jungkook wears them like it’s tailored, and you have to look away when he quickly knots the bottom half of the shirt, fashioning it into a tasteful double knot in order to cinch his lean waist.

“Pretty sure it was just you that saw me,” Jungkook says dismissively, “so it’s fine.”

This bristles you the wrong way, and you put down the catering covers you were supposed to return to the storage room. You smooth out your Sunday dress, this shade of Boring Beige looking particularly pale in the morning sun. “How do you know I won’t tell?” you turn your nose up.

“Because I know,” he doesn’t even look at you, focusing on rolling the sleeves of his shirt. You weaken when you see the black shadowing across his forearm. That’s new, then again you haven’t seen him since last Christmas.

“Know what?”

“That you have a crush on me,” Jungkook says into the air like it’s common knowledge, adjusting the leather jacket on top of his outfit so the white-startched collar pops on top, “I mean, it’s hard for anyone not to know. You’ve been into me since youth group, Bunny.”

You hold your breath, counting to ten as you close the door behind you. A vision of you playing “Duck Duck Goose” as a five year old plays in your head, where you’d pick a bushy, big-eyed Jeon Jungkook each time, hopping over to him to pat his fluffy head so he’d chase you around.

It’s old news, your puppy love for Jungkook. How could you not like him? He's clever and sweet with his mother and always told the best stories in youth group meetings. Everyone thought your affections were so sweet, and while that attention weaned over time, your feelings have only increased the more self-aware you’ve become.

With a mind as open and honest is yours, it’s hard to ignore how well Jungkook has grown. What has also grown is your curiosities since the two of you have moved onto university. Jungkook goes to the university uptown, a far drive which only forces him attend masses during the holidays. You attended the local community college, wrapping up a bachelors in some vague major that you’re not attached to. You’re currently looking around for some graduate schools, but unfortunately you’ve been so wrapped up doing duties for Pastor Nina that you haven’t been able to look around properly.

Jungkook’s probably living a fun life, with the way he’s grown rough and loose, you resent him.

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s right in front of you, trapping you between his body and the door.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Bunny,” you furrow your brows, nearly growing cross-eyed when he leans in. “I think your crush is cute.”

You’re not sure what he thinks of you. Sure, he considered everyone a friend when you two were in youth group, but that was youth group. Premeditated, parents forcing other children to do the same things with each other for years upon years in the hope they’ll practice together forever and ever. Jungkook did not want that, evident from the way he dipped his duties as soon as he got into university.

You hate how easy he dips back into it though, calling you Bunny and making you feel like a little girl all over again. Bunny, because you’d hop around to him whenever he was in sight. Bunny, because Jungkook had been fondly compared to the wide-eyed, diamond-toothed creature. It was cute when you were five. Now, it’s just discomfiting.

“Don’t call me that,” you bite, “and I don’t like you anymore.”

“Sure you don’t,” he rolls his eyes, and you flinch when Jungkook’s hand rests on the curve of your waist, fingers slotting themselves between the pleats of your skirt. “That’s why you’re not moving away when I’m about to put my hand under your skirt. Because you don’t like me.”

You press yourself further into the door, your skin hot and vibrating. So warm, you feel like you could melt through the door and escape from Jungkook’s gaze. Sure, the young ladies in the congregation talk. Maybe you’ve heard a story or two about Jungkook being seedy, a result of being repressed after years and years of stiff routines and expectations thrust upon him. You could care less about Jungkook’s sexual appetite, until this appetite has reached you.

“Mm, you’re pretty,” Jungkook’s eyes roam your form, the daisy white blouse doing nothing to barricade Jungkook’s sudden interest in you, “you’ve never been touched like this, have you?”

“I’ve touched myself like this,” you hiss in defense, and it’s more out of anger than in pleasure. You don’t need a man to comfort you, but Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in mirth at the new information.

“That’s really sexy,” Jungkook slips down, roams his fingers down to your ankles and plays with the silver buckles of your Mary Janes. You shiver when his hands trail up up up to your knees, the swell of your thighs, and catch right under the elastic seam that holds your secrets together, “but I’ll have you know, it’s different when you have someone hold your pleasure in their hands.”

You’re in the storage room of your church, fifteen minutes before the Christmas mass, with Jeon Jungkook’s head between your legs. Your skirt is long, and Jungkook doesn’t bother to ride it up your waist.

It feels more forbidden that way, Jungkook hiding under the fabric of your skirt to get to your honeyed center, sneaking his way in with rough hands and soft touches.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, pressing your full spine against the wooden door, “we shouldn’t. N-not like this.”

What is wrong with you? Is it sheer curiosity? Do you just want to know what it finally, finally feels like? You should be pushing him away. There’s red lights flashing back and forth in your brain like sirens. Yet, do you really want to turn away the attention you’ve been aching for years?

You imagined your first time to be relatively special. The bare minimum, a bed, a talk, and a partner you’re mutually committed to. None of those things are met. Now you understand why all the young women in church whisper about sex like this. It’s a spur of the moment, it’s an unbridled pleasure you don’t want to stop, no matter how forbidden and sinful the act is.

“How else then?” you feel his deep voice straight through your panties, his lips whispering between the pink cotton like he’s sinking liquid heat into your skin. “I can’t sink my fingers into your sweet cunt during the candle lighting. Or when we open presents with the family after. That would be inappropriate.”

Your replies come out in breaths, puffs of air that conceal the moans you so badly want to let out as Jungkook pokes and rubs at you. He does nothing beyond the cotton fabric, only slides two fingers up and down your slit as he gathers the arousal between his digits.

“So wet already, that’s so sexy,” he’s kissing your core, and you sigh fretfully at the pleasure that feels so close yet so far away.

“P-please, Jungkook…”

“Please what?” Jungkook teases, fingers slipping back and forth between the elastic of your underwear, “please stop? Please touch me? Please fuck me?”

The church bell answers that, and Jungkook’s nose knocks right into your bud at the sudden intrusion. You yelp at the jarring stimulation, pulling him from under your skirts as the loud noise echoes in the room. Both of you wince at the pain, the moment interjected.

“You first,” Jungkook casually opens the door for you, as if he didn’t have you ten seconds away from begging him to make you come.

You don’t even look at him as you dash away, not bothering to take the elevator in favor of running off the heat. Two minutes before the procession. The church is packed to the brim, only the back seats left. Your family probably gave up on waiting for you up in the front. As you sit down in the corner, you’re momentarily distracted by the beauty of a decorated church on Christmas. Even though you’re part of the decorating committee and commanded most of the design, seeing the stained glass lit up with fairy lights and the poinsettia plants blooming burgundy on the altar, you’re impressed.

“There’s a draft here, you must be cold.” Jungkook talks to you so politely, a perfect picture of a gentleman as he drapes his leather jacket over your lap. He speaks as if it’s a pleasant surprise, a childhood friend he hasn’t seen in nearly a year.

You can’t tell him to move when people are watching and Jungkook is seconds from interrupting the procession, so you reluctantly scoot over so he can sit next to you. His scent overwhelms you even more now that you’ll have to sit next to him for a whole hour, lavender and vanilla overtaking your pew.

The jacket is heavy and heady on your lap, and you force yourself to stare straight ahead. Jungkook cannot weaken you like this, not anymore.

Thirty minutes later, his fingers are hovering at the start of the homily, caressing your thighs under the jacket with his big hands. A draft? Please. You clamp your thighs together, knocking your knees and hoping they’d lock together for the rest of the mass. Jungkook’s a master key, easily parting his way as if your muscles are pure jelly. You turn your head sharply, glaring at him with all the fire in the world.

“Careful,” Jungkook mouths, eyes flickering to the symbol atop the podium, “he’s watching.”

His fingers finally brush the damp blush cotton of your panties, and you shudder.

#ficswithluv #btsguild #btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts smut #bts fic #jungkook angst #bts angst #kpop fic #hansolmates

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heauxplesslydevoted · 4 years ago

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Three’s Company

Summary: Naomi goes to lunch with the newest member of the diagnostic’s team.

A/N: Listen, I will not rest until Tobias and Ethan are friends again.

~v~

“It’s not going to be as bad as you’re making it out to be, Ethan. Above all else, Tobias Carrick is a doctor and a professional.”

Ethan resists the urge to roll his eyes at his girlfriend. This situation isn’t her fault, and it’s not like Naomi can help the fact that she’s optimistic. He still huffs under his breath though. “Being a doctor isn’t synonymous with being a professional. Trust me, Tobias is nothing of the sort.”

The news of Tobias Carrick not only coming to Edenbrook but also joining the diagnostics team hasn’t been well received. On top of a pretty tense exchange between Bloom and Ethan, Harper also made it known that she wasn’t a fan, thankfully not as outwardly as Ethan had.

Naomi however, has remained neutral. She doesn’t have history with Tobias like Harper and Ethan do, only knowing him through their biased second hand accounts. Ethan grumbled that he’s arrogant–though the same can be said about him as well–and selfish, but Naomi isn’t one to judge someone without knowing them. And besides, he pitched in to help save her last year, so for the time being, Tobias Carrick has a few brownie points with her.

“You’re being dramatic. He’s been a doctor as long as you have, he went to the same prestigious medical school that you did–”

“He graduated at number two,” Ethan interjects.

At that dig, Naomi huffs. “You’re being ridiculous. And petty, for no reason.”

“Bloom went over our heads and hired him, so I’m automatically suspicious. I apologize for not believing this wasn’t done specifically to annoy me.”

Naomi can concede to it being a bit suspicious, but she isn’t going to admit to this conspiracy of all roads leading back to Ethan. She’s not going to needlessly feed into his ego and rile him up.

The two of them continue their trek throughout the halls of Edenbrook in silence, their fingers loosely interlocked the entire way there. Naomi revels in it, because she knows it’s the calm before the storm.

Before they cross the threshold to the office, Naomi stops Ethan in his tracks. She cranes her head back so they can look each other in the eye. “Listen, like it or not, Tobias is here, and until he does something that warrants your hostility, at least be cordial. Our patients don’t deserve us at anything less than our best.”

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose, and silently counts to three, attempting to steel himself.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” Raising their joined hands, Naomi brushes a fleeting kiss across his knuckles. “Now stop pouting, Ramsey, we have work to do.”

Ethan untangles their hands only to open the door for Naomi. Once she steps inside she’s greeted with the sight of Tobias fiddling with Ethan’s coffee maker. He looks and flashes them a sly smile. “Mornin’, lovebirds! Ready to get to diagnosing?”

Ethan flashes Naomi a quick look. This is going to be a long day indeed.

~v~

So Tobias’s first day with the team wasn’t smooth sailing like Naomi wanted. Ethan and Harper made it clear that his former friend and roommate wasn’t wanted anywhere near the team, whether it be through passive aggressive eye rolls, thinly-veiled exasperated sighs, or outright aggression via Ethan that spiraled into a tense argument. Naomi remained neutral, corralling all of the attention back to the task at hand: helping their patient.

Naomi isn’t interested in spending another day babysitting these grown adults, so hopefully day 2 is a lot more smooth.

And so far, she seems to be getting her wish. Morning tasks were distributed without a fight, and after their morning huddle, Harper went downstairs to prep for a surgery she has coming up later. The remaining 3 members of the team are all in their own little corners of the office, Ethan typing away on his laptop, Tobias lounging on the couch, and Naomi sitting at their large desk, a pile of books and printed copies of online articles all spread out in front of her.

The words are all starting to blur together, her focus slipping away with each second that ticks on. Being in the office isn’t doing anything for her creativity or brainstorming power. She needs a break.

Naomi closes her textbook and pushes out of her seat, tired of studying. She makes her way over to Ethan’s desk, observing his hunched shoulders and the deep line between his brows. She rounds his desk until she’s standing directly in his line of vision. “You know what? I think it’s time to take a break. How about you and I get out of here and get something to eat?”

Ethan tears his eyes away from his computer screen long enough to look at Naomi. He frowns softly. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to take a raincheck. On top of the actual work I have to do for this team, Leland is demanding that I put together a presentation for the board meeting at the end of the week.”

“About what?”

“About the team. Cost versus benefit, outcomes, methodology, etc. Basically, he wants me to sell the diagnostics team to him all over again.”

“Sucks to be the boss at times?”

“De facto boss,” Ethan corrects. “Remember, this team is supposed to be a democracy now. Anyway, I want to get this presentation done as quickly as I can so I can stop thinking about it.”

“I could go for some lunch,” the third person in the room speaks up. Naomi and Ethan both turn around and see Tobias staring back at them. “Oh sorry, am I interrupting the private conversation the two of you are trying to have in our communal workspace?”

“What do you want, Carrick?”

Tobias’s eyes bounce back and forth between the couple. “Naomi wants to escape these four walls and get food. You aren’t available, and I am.” He shrugs. “What are you in the mood for, Valentine? I could go for some Italian, and there’s a good place a few blocks from here.”

“She’s not going to lunch with you,” Ethan grits out possessively.

Naomi’s head whips around faster than she can stop herself. Since when did he get to make decisions on her behalf, especially when it’s not work related?

A small smirk settles on Tobias’s face. Naomi’s physical response to Ethan’s declaration does not go unnoticed by him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know your name was also Naomi Valentine. Whatever the case, I wasn’t speaking to you.”

“Naomi doesn’t–”

“Naomi doesn’t need an advocate to speak on her behalf because she’s an adult,” Naomi interjects sharply.

Whether she wants to accept or decline Tobias’s invitation to lunch, it’s her decision to make, not Ethan’s. His tumultuous relationship with Tobias is not her burden to bear, and he’s not going to force it upon her.

And just to prove it to him, Naomi turns around, her full attention back on Tobias, eyes alight with defiance. “You know what? Italian sounds delicious.”

~v~

20 minutes later, the unlikely duo is nestled into a corner booth of the Italian restaurant Tobias suggested. It’s a nice family owned joint that is currently experiencing a lunch rush. Every inch of the place is bustling with activity, the aromatic smell of sautéed garlic fills the air, soft music playing in the background. And while Naomi has yet to try the food, the restaurant is warm and inviting, and she likes it.

“You know, I’m really shocked you decided to take me up on my offer,” Tobias says, cutting into Naomi’s silent appraisal of their surroundings.

“I wasn’t going to turn down a free meal,” Naomi responds smoothly.

“A free meal?”

“Of course. You invited yourself, so you’re paying, Dr. Carrick. I’m thinking of ordering dessert, too.”

An easygoing smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she speaks, and Tobias laughs. “I meant it because loverboy wasn’t too happy with it.”

“As much as I respect Ethan’s opinions on things, they don’t dictate my life. His issues with you have nothing to do with me, and if you think you can use me as a pawn to piss him off further, I’d advise you to think again.”

This young woman is brazen and full of sass. Tobias likes it. “It wasn’t my intention, I swear. It’s no secret that I’m not a welcomed member of the team, and you happen to be the only one who doesn’t roll your eyes or sneer whenever I speak. You are the closest thing I have to an...acquaintance, I guess.”

Naomi’s defenses deflate slightly at his shocking display of earnestness. She was expecting some display of bravado from the attending, so this has thrown her for a loop.

Tobias is nervous. She picks up on that energy almost instantly.

“Well like I said, their issues with you have nothing to do with me. I try to give everyone a fair shake.”

“I can respect that.”

“But in the interest of said fair shake, you have to answer a question for me. What are you doing here?”

“Here, in this restaurant?”

“At Edenbrook,” Naomi clarifies. “Kenmore is a level one trauma center, it was saved from getting snuffed out when it merged with Solomon, you guys stole my research candidate which brought in a lot of grant money. You had a decent gig there, so why did you come to Edenbrook? Why did you accept a position on Ethan’s team?”

Tobias shrugs. “I hit my threshold at Kenmore. I was at the top of the food chain, I had seen everything there was to see, done everything there was to do. I was...bored and restless. Edenbrook got injected with new blood, everything is new and exciting. Bloom said he wanted to take the team to new heights, and he offered me more money than I know what to do with to be a part of the vision.”

“Okay so who’s to say you’ll be satisfied just being a member of the team? How do I know you won’t attempt to stage a coup and take Ethan’s position?”

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not gunning for your boyfriend’s spot.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart. There’s no need to be condescending.”

“I apologize. But Ethan’s spot on the team is safe. I don’t need Leland breathing down my neck and micromanaging me the way he does Ethan.”

Naomi’s eyes roam his face. He doesn’t have any tells, no eye shifting or twitching, no sudden movements with his hands or mouth, he doesn’t fidget in his seat. She has no reason to believe he’s lying, so she takes him at his word. “Okay.”

“Any other burning questions?”

“Why aren’t you and Ethan friends?”

Tobias doesn’t immediately answer, opting to take his sweet time to think on it. He pulls his lip in-between his teeth, before shrugging. “We’re too similar. Too driven, too ambitious, too stubborn. Two people can only go on the same path for so long before a collision happens.”

“It got ugly because you two wanted the same girl?”

Tobias scoffs. The faceless woman that he was adamant that he was in love with is at the bottom of his list of concerns. “She was just the tip of the iceberg.”

That manages to catch her interest. Naomi sits up in her seat and leans forward slightly. “So what happened?”

Naomi can see the exact moment that Tobias withdraws from the conversation. His posture gets stiff again and he averts his gaze.

“Okay, riddle me this, Carrick,” Naomi continues. “Ethan told me he reached out to you after you had your falling out, but you rebuffed him. Is that part true?”

“He called and asked if we could talk, I said no. I didn’t hear from him again until everything happened with Leland last year.”

“You didn’t want to make amends?”

Making amends and having his old friend back did sound nice once upon a time, but being friends with Ethan again means being in his shadow again. And that’s what led them to this whole thing in the first place. Tobias sighs and scrubs his hand across his jaw. He came here to eat a plate of ravioli and maybe annoy Ethan, not pour his heart out. What is it about Naomi Valentine and those big brown eyes of hers that makes him want to twist himself inside out and spill his guts? Is she some sort of siren?

“Making amends means I’d have to own up to my wrongdoings. I’d have to swallow the fact that I torpedoed our friendship,” Tobias confesses before he even realizes the words are out of his mouth. “Admitting fault and being vulnerable isn’t my strong suit.”

She doesn’t mean to, but Naomi giggles. And that giggle turns into a laugh. A loud one that attracts the attention of a few patrons, a hard feat to accomplish in the middle of a bustling restaurant, but she does it with ease.

“I’m sorry,” Naomi says once she finally calms down. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “God, no wonder you two were best friends. You are just as emotionally constipated as Ethan.”

“Emotionally constipated?” Tobias’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the blunt statement. And once the shock wears off, he laughs along with. “Touché, Valentine. Touché.”

~v~

Across the way, at the bar on the other side of the dining room, Ethan watches as his girlfriend and his former friend carry on like two bosom buddies.

Ethan decided to follow them approximately 10 minutes after they left, sheer curiosity getting the better of him. Before he could stop himself, he was in his car and at the restaurant, seated far enough away from them so he’s out of their line of vision, but close enough to see.

Naomi is in the zone, talking excitedly and Tobias sits there, soaking it all up like what she says and does is gospel. Their friendly interaction stirs irritation in the pit of his stomach, but it’s when Naomi lets out a boisterous laugh does he reach his limit. Ethan’s grip on the small tumbler in his hand tightens, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t end up with a million tiny shards of glass in his palm.

What on earth has Tobias said to make Naomi laugh like that? And why is he laughing with her?

Ethan doesn’t like it one bit, for a multitude of reasons. He doesn’t like other men being around Naomi–it’s ridiculous and sexist of him to feel this way, but Ethan is a possessive caveman, and he makes no bones about it. Seeing her actually laughing with Carrick of all people and enjoying his company makes him want to throw the drink ware he’s currently holding.

Deciding enough is enough, Ethan slams the glass down onto the bar and stands up. After dropping a $20 bill on the counter he makes his way over to Naomi and Tobias, unadulterated jealousy and alcohol fueling every step.

Tobias notices him first, and he jerks his head in Ethan’s general direction in order to get Naomi’s attention. She turns around and her eyes go wide at the sight of Ethan.

“Ethan? What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

Now her eyes are narrowed. “You finished that big presentation you had to work on?”

Ethan sniffs haughtily. Leave it to her to throw that back in his face. “I decided that a break was okay.”

“And you coincidentally ended up at this restaurant?”

“Yup.”

Naomi stands up, muttering a quick “excuse me,” in Tobias’s direction and grabs Ethan’s hand, pulling him away. They nestle into a quiet corner of the restaurant, far away from the table, closer to the kitchen. The door constantly swings open and closed, as the waitstaff goes in and out.

Once they get a moment of quiet, Naomi glares at Ethan, the expression on her face nothing short of annoyed. “Are you spying on me? Because spying on me implies that you don’t trust me.”

“What? Of course I trust you!”

“So what are you doing here, Ethan?”

Ethan bites the inside of his cheek and rocks on the balls of his feet. “Okay, so I was spying.” Naomi opens her mouth to say something, but Ethan beats her to the punch. “It’s not because I don’t trust you! It’s him that I don’t trust.”

“Tobias has been nothing short of a gentleman,” Naomi says and Ethan snorts. “He’s acting a lot of a lot more mature than you are, I can say that much.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you treating him like he’s a criminal when he’s given you no reason to do so.”

“He’s given me plenty of reason, Naomi!”

“The last time we saw Tobias, I was near death and he helped save my life,” Naomi says, and that’s more than enough to get Ethan to shut up.

Ethan’s heart slams against his rib cage with enough force to make him think the organ is trying to leave his body. Months have passed since the assassination attempt, but the mention of it is enough to cause Ethan to go into a panic.

“And the time before that, we stole a patient right out from under him, and before that we got into a fight at a freaking hospital softball game,” Naomi continues. “You haven’t been all good, and he hasn’t been all bad, so stop pretending to have the moral high ground.”

“This past year, you made a lot of strides in your personal life. You battled a lot with your mom, but you came out of it, a more well rounded individual, so do not let Tobias’s presence cause you to backslide. I’m not saying he has to be your best friend, but I refuse to tolerate this type of nonsense past today.”

He takes a moment to digest what she’s saying, begrudgingly of course because he doesn’t really want to admit that he hasn’t been behaving like the mature, adult professional that he usually is.

Ethan nods and places a kiss on Naomi’s forehead, his lips lingering there.

“Are you listening to me?”

Ethan kisses the apples of her cheeks, inwardly smirking as he feels Naomi smile. “I promise you that I’ll keep myself in check from now on.”

“And if you don’t, I will.”

The threat causes Ethan to lose focus. She clearly doesn’t mean it in a seductive way, but he can’t help that his brain instantly goes to the gutter when she’s involved. Now he wants nothing more than to be alone with her, with any flat surface readily available.

“Yes ma’am,” Ethan murmurs before capturing her lips with his own.

Naomi doesn’t allow herself to get swept up in the kiss, because she knows Ethan is using it to distract her. She untangles herself from his grip and pulls away before he’s able to get any more leverage.

“Can we go back to the office now?” Ethan asks.

“Absolutely not. I came here to have lunch, so we’re having lunch.”

Ethan frowns. “You still want to go through with this?”

“I didn’t come here to teach you a lesson, and I’m actually enjoying Tobias’s company, so I’m staying. And you’re staying here too.”

“No.”

“You followed me here, you don’t have a choice.”

Ethan reluctantly follows Naomi back to the table, where Tobias is studying the menu. He doesn’t even look up when he hears footsteps approaching. “I’m debating on if I want the ravioli or the chicken parm, which one–” his voice falters as he sees Ethan.

“Look who’s decided to join us for lunch!” Naomi says brightly, steamrolling over the building tension. She pushes Ethan into an empty chair, not giving him a second to turn away.

Tobias opens his mouth to object, “But–”

“I’m going to head to the restroom,” Naomi says. “And one of you guys is ordering me a limoncello, because Tobias is treating.”

She flounces off, not giving either man a chance to respond or argue with her.

Tobias laughs. “Is she always like this? So bossy?”

“Naomi is unapologetically assertive,” Ethan corrects. “She makes no bones about it.”

“The scary part about it is I’m 100 percent going to order her a limoncello, because she’s not the type of person you say no to.”

This time it’s Ethan’s turn to laugh. It’s nice to know he’s not the only unsuspecting sap that cannot say no when Naomi turns on her charm.

Once the laughter tapers off, the former friends are plunged into silence. Ethan checks the time on his watch, watching the seconds stretch on. He needs Naomi to come back. Seriously, how long does it take to use the restroom? He spares a quick glance at Tobias, who’s pointedly not making eye contact with him either.

Eventually Tobias speaks up, “Look, I didn’t come to Edenbrook to cause any trouble. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity that came with more money than I could count.”

“Naveen started this team with the most honorable of intentions,” Ethan says. “This was his life’s work, and he entrusted me with it. You cannot possibly understand the loyalty I have to him, so forgive me if I’m extremely protective over it and skeptical of your motives, which haven’t always been pure.”

“I’m just here to save lives, and work on the most fascinating medical cases of our generation. I know how important this team is, and I’d never intentionally disrespect Naveen like that.”

Ethan nods. That’s all he can really ask of Tobias. “Then I guess we’re good.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

Another beat of silence passes and Tobias awkwardly drums his fingers along the stem of his water glass. “So...you and Valentine?”

The question is out of left field and Ethan’s brows furrow in confusion. “Uh, yeah, me and Valentine.”

“I like her,” Tobias says definitively. When Ethan glares at him, Tobias rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Relax, I get it loud and clear that she’s off limits. Besides, I know you’re head over heels in love with her.”

A scarlet flush creeps up Ethan’s neck at Tobias’s matter of fact declaration. “Love? I’m...we don’t...I don’t–”

Tobias smirks. “Oh man. You’ve got it bad.”

That much, Ethan is willing to share. “Yeah, I do.”

“Naomi did say we’re both emotionally constipated, and that blubbering you just did proves her point,” Tobias teases. “But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

The L-word has floated around in the back of Ethan’s mind for months, but he’s always been able to squash it down, locking it away in the deepest recesses of his brain. But hearing someone else say it is something entirely different. Ethan can’t run away from the thought.

Tobias has known since last year. He suspected something when Ethan came to defense during the softball game, but it was confirmed as soon as he saw them together after the incident with the senator. He had never seen Ethan so out of sorts, not even when they competed for the affections of the same woman back in school. Naomi is different. She has the power to bring Ethan to his knees.

“I hope you know that you’re punching way above your weight with that one,” Tobias adds teasingly.

It’s something Ethan thinks about constantly. Naomi could do so much better than him, but every day she chooses him. “Absolutely.”

“And for what it’s worth, she’s just as much into you. The woman gives you heart eyes whenever you’re around. It’s disgusting, to be quite frank.”

The sentence warms Ethan from the inside out. He’ll never get over knowing Naomi wants him just as much as he wants her.

Thankfully Naomi chooses that moment to come back to the table, giving the men something else to focus their attention on. She settles into a seat next to Ethan, and he immediately wraps an arm around her, his fingertips stroking her arm. Tobias observes the fleeting moment of intimacy with a private smile.

Naomi’s eyes flicker back and forth between the men. “Everything okay over here?”

Tobias and Ethan both look at each other, a silent moment of understanding passing between them. Ethan nods. “Everything is fine.”

Naomi smiles. Maybe there’s hope for them yet. “Good. Now let’s flag down a waiter and get some food.”

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #tobias carrick

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hollyhomburg · 4 years ago

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Reasons Wretched and Divine (Pt. 6) (Yoonminjoon x Reader)

Genre: hybrid au, polyamory au, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Pregnancy, Mafia au

Parings: Snake hybrid! Yoongi x Dog hybrid! Jimin x Dog hybrid! Namjoon x Pregnant! Reader, Platonic Vmin, allusions to 2seok,

Summary: After years of abuse, you’ve all finally found each other. But for one of you- the fear still lingers, hidden in the shadows. Yoongi doesn't want much, just a few more weeks, but he only has until the end of the summer.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, physical abuse, polyamory negotiations, Post-traumatic stress disorder, low self-worth, bonding over trauma, themes of healing, mute characters, scent-marking, brief gore, themes of deception, complex characters

W/c: 10.6k

Song Rec: Hozier ~ Eden

Series Masterlist

An informative bulletin on Hybrid sense of Smell:

Out of all of the positives that hybrids inherit from their animal dna- their sense of smell is simply unparalleled. It’s one of the more peculiar and therefore interesting subsets of hybrid behavior. Hybrid sense of smell is just like any of the other senses though, in terms of the amount of sensory information contained, it is more on par with sight than the fragile human nose. It is possible that the vast majority of hybrid to hybrid communication is completely pheromonal. most scent glands are found on the wrists and neck.

When an owner or human initially comes into contact with a hybrid, the flush of new sensory information will be hard to parse out for most hybrids (and all but those with the most sensitive smell). At first, a hybrid will only be able to sense if you are feeling “good” or “bad” the same way we can often only tell when food smells good or bad.

But as time goes on, and hybrids become more accustomed to the particular hormonal balance of their humans they become more adept at deciphering their emotional state through their scent. Eventually, a person smelling simply ‘happy’ or ‘sad’ becomes “amused” and “contemplative” or any other host of emotions. This is one of the reasons why hybrids make intense emotional partners, as hybrids become accustomed to their owners or pack mates and they become extremely attuned. Some hybrids are even able to smell their female owner's ovulation cycle and if they’re pregnant before the owner themselves.

Scent is one of the most highly individualized parts of hybrid society, with no two hybrids smelling exactly the same (some exceptions can be made for close siblings and twins) scent-marking behavior is something commonly seen only between hybrids and their owners, as well as between hybrids in the same pack. As scent-marking leaves sort of an imprint of hybrid's emotional state on their partner. It is also a nonverbal queue for other hybrids “this person makes me very happy- please be kind to them for me” or “this is my human, please stay away” a negative impression will also be left on a human if they cause a hybrid distress.

Of course, certain species hybrids are more adept at this kind of empathy than others, with rabbit hybrids having the most sensitive sense of smell and therefore pungent scents, and most exotic hybrids including bird hybrids and snake hybrids, having a less sensitive nose and more mild scents which are harder to discern.

Many other tidbits of information can be conveyed through scents, weather a possible partner will be compatible for a heat/rut cycle, if they are upset and if they are injured or hurt, and their emotional state. There is even some debate that deception can be gleaned through scent (but that claim will need further research).

~~~~

- You wake with a start, started into wakefulness by a piercing shriek and then shouting. Out of all of the times you’ve suddenly woken out of a dead sleep this is by far the least violent. There isn’t anyone in your room but you, the covers overly warm, golden early morning light seeping through the windows, peaceful and idyllic.

- it isn’t one of the times that your late husband had dragged you out of the bed, kicking and screaming because he’d found something on your phone, a strange charge on your credit card, or woken to the feel of him above you, or woken to his screaming at Namjoon.

- You tell yourself that it’s just any other day, that this morning isn’t one of those. but your heart dosent understands that. thundering, your hands shaking.

- The days when you wake up slowly in Namjoon’s arms- those are the best mornings. But Namjoon isn’t next to you- and somehow your heart won’t start shuddering. Namjoon isn’t here and you want him there and your mind somewhere else entirely as you shakily exit your bedroom, tying your robe around you deftly.

- One benefit of living in an old house is that you can hear nearly everything that goes on, and you can hear Jimin's words below you “Yoongi- don’t look”

- Sometimes- you still have days where you hate your bedroom. Days where you won’t cross over the threshold with Namjoon already there, his every presence comforting to you- willing away any bad thought that might arise, any trigger or memory. You’d painted the walls a different color- the dark green changed to a light pastel blue- but some of the memories still linger even though it looks different and far warmer than it did when it was your husband's old bedroom.

- Most of the positive change has to do with Namjoon’s presence, the countless pillows that he likes to sleep with, the fluffy throws, his organized but slightly wry shirts in your open closet, his small stack of parenting books by your dresser. It might be the same room you were hurt in, but it feels different most of the time, especially when you’ve got namjoon all stretched out in your bed, All of the peace you have starts and ends with Namjoon.

- But maybe that’s changing, maybe you find a certain calm in Yoongi and Jimin too. Jimin is the first one you see, sending you a panicked glance as Namjoon cleans his face of blood, trying to stand in front of Yoongi for whatever reason the snake hybrid looking a little paler than usual.

- You stumble to the bottom of the stairs in your thick fluffy robe, some of your hair sticking up at the back. You take one good look at the snake, rub your eyes a bit, and then turn to the cat hybrid sprawled in the grass. Your eyes are steely, unflinching as you help her up, ask if she’s okay. All the while, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin blink back the sleep from their eyes, not knowing what to do about the snake, hanging flayed open on your front door.

- You take one long look at the snake too. All of you silent for a moment before you jump into action. “We’ll get this cleaned up before you get back with the others, wake Taehyung too if you wouldn’t mind? Tell him I’m calling a meeting before breakfast to make sure no one slips away for chores.”

- That Jimin understands, Many a time had he seen the younger and teenaged hybrids leave the table the second their plates where finished. Though he has to admit- this feels less like a prank gone wrong and more like I direct threat with the way Yoongi is blinking behind Namjoon, the other hybrid talking to him in his low voice. Hands out like they might touch him, Namjoon’s tail hanging low between his legs.

- You’re just about to turn away when Jimin grabs your arm. “There’s something you should know,” he’s quick to explain what happened last night, who kicked him out of his bed and the reason why he’d been asleep on your couch. Your mouth turns down the more he talks. “Bring Minhyung too okay? Are you okay lovely?” you keep Jimin’s hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

- The cat smooth’s out a wrinkle in her skirt and clears her butt of any dirt that might have gotten on it when she’d fallen backward, her tail flicks agitatedly “I’m okay miss, it just gave me a fright.”

- “I can’t imagine how none of us heard anything,” Namjoon says- finishing cleaning the blood from his face, thanking Yoongi for the towel. He looks a little shaken but mostly all right. “I know” Jimin agrees- “it was barely 10 feet from me and I didn’t hear it.” You grimace, still looking at the door and the snake, Namjoon finished wiping the blood off his face and you gesture for the rag.

- Jimin steps up “I’ll do it- you don’t have too” surprisingly the nail isn’t that deeply driven into the wood once Jimin gets over his initial squeamishness over handling the dead animal. Namjoon heads off as soon after Jimin gets it free to bury it in the garden. Still in his pajamas. You usher Yoongi upstairs while Jimin cleans the door of blood.

- You’ve been in Yoongi’s room a handful of times (when it was just your husband's house it used to be an office) but the dark blue walls fit Yoongi better now. His queen mattress pushed in the corner, an old ladder that Yoongi had repurposed hanging with half a dozen thick blankets and fluffy duvets, assorted space heaters and fans sitting on the desk pushed up against the foot of his bed. It’s cozy mostly- the curtains all drawn so the room feels more like a den or a cave. Dark- but warm and comforting, it feels safe even.

- Now that Yoongi’s away from the others it looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, raking his fingers through his hair and twitching a little, He can’t relax or standstill. You set a cup of coffee for him on his bedside table and linger. Unsure if you don’t want to leave him alone or if he wants to be to regroup for a second. “Yoongi” he turns and looks at you, and sometimes- like this time. It almost seems like Yoongi wants to say something to you- but just- can’t get the words out.

- You wonder more than you’d care to admit- if his muteness is selective or something physical. Namjoon wonders too, what his voice sounds like if his laugh is more of a giggle like Jimin’s or something crackling like Nam Joon. “Do you-“ a little noise stops you, Yoongi’s hands clench and unclench by his side.

- You reach out a hand unthinking, stopping a second before you actually cup his cheek. You and Yoongi are no stranger to almost touches, especially on his good days. Many times you’ve felt the almost brush of his hand on your lower back when you stand, sometimes you actually do feel it.

- You were no stranger to slight touches either, always in the secluded privacy of your garden or the house when it’s late and the curtains are drawn. In front of namjoon too. You’d linked pinky’s more than once over a bed of flowers when you were taking a break. as he fed you a sweet strawberry or green beans from the garden. The pad of his finger lingering on your lower lip for just a second too long to not be intentional.

- But never had you initiated the touch, not like this. Your hand cups his cheek and Yoongi leans into it, eyes fluttering closed. The bags under his eyes are almost black-purple. The scales under his chin feel cool under your fingers, only slightly smoother and cooler than the rest of his skin.

- You’d asked Namjoon about it, pacing in your room after one day when you’d seen Namjoon watch you and Yoongi with a strange look on his face. You didn’t want to do anything that made him uncomfortable. At the end of the day, it will always be Namjoon. You won’t leave him or hurt him- not ever if you can help it. Thought at the beginning, you feared you could hurt him by accident with Yoongi.

- It was back when your baby bump had barely been visible- not like now when even your baggiest dresses barely conceal your bump. Nothing but a strategically placed pillow concealing Namjoon’s nakedness as he laid back in your bed late at night. Namjoon scrolling through his phone (new, a gift from you. though it will only last about a week until he decideds to try and ‘wash’ off the dirt that got on it and compeltly ruin it)

- You’d had minor disagreements over other hybrids in the past. Namjoon was mostly okay with you giving out pets like they’re one-dollar bills at the strip club. And was equally as nonplussed when some of the younger hybrids that don’t know any better cuddled close enough to you that you ended up smelling like them. But there had been one incident where one of the older canine hybrids had mistakenly scent marked you.

- Namjoon had been a little angry growling at you the second he’d smelled the fox’s scent on you and demanding you shower. Rightfully upset, he’d explained that that was practically a claiming mark. He’d been touchy and a little bit grumpy the rest of the week, an arm thrown around your waist whenever the other hybrid was around.

- But Yoongi Doesn’t seem to upset him in the same way. “I don’t get what you’re so worried about- it’s fine- it’s not like he’s not part of our pack or a stranger.”

- You’d stopped where you’d been pacing a hole in your carpet. “What do you mean- apart of the same pack?” Namjoon sighed, tossing his phone to the side (he doesn’t quite understand that he needs to be gentle with it yet). “it’s like- it’s not the same as if it was a random farmer across the street- because it’s Yoongi and he’s one of us, it doesn’t make me feel possessive because he’s mine too you know?”

- They had been getting close recently, there aren’t many hybrids at the farm yet, and Yoongi, Taehyung, and Seokjin are the only ones who’ve stayed any length of time you’d consider significant. You’d woken alone late at night a few times in the last week and gone down to the living room lower level only to find Namjoon and Yoongi asleep on opposite ends of the couch.

- “But he’s not a canine hybrid Joonie? Don’t you only form pack bonds with other dog hybrids?” Namjoon shaking his head, ears flapping a little, “not at all, though it is rarer- and Yoongi won’t exactly feel it the same way I do, he’s still apart of this too.”

- It hits you like a truck, “you mean- you love him too?”

- You’d been meaning to ask Namjoon- if the pack bonds now extended to Jimin too, you had a feeling they did but it was probably better to ask…before anything more significant happens.

- You know that Yoongi is okay with touch as long as it’s not skin on skin and if he can control it. But you can’t not offer the affection now- not when you think it might help- not when Yoongi looks like he’s about ready to jump out of his skin with how afraid he is.

- You can tell his whole body is shivering but he doesn’t move to pull away when you lift up your other hand to slowly cup his cheek. He doesn’t move away when you get up on your tippy-toes to press your lips to his forehead. He smells soft and sweet like freshly done laundry. His hands come up too, loosely settling around your waist like he’s not sure he wants to pull you in for a hug yet.

- “We’ll get to the bottom of this yoongi, I promise” you give him one shorter squeeze and then separate. And Yoongi looks like he wants to keep holding you and also like he doesn’t. So you figure it’s best. You hover in the doorway, “take your time coming down today okay? We’ll have the meeting and then we can have breakfast up here if you’re not feeling up to being around the others today.”

- Your front door is clean, the light blue wood spotless when you come down the stairs, and By that time the cat hybrids have already returned to the kitchen. after changing into a loose knee-length dress, spotted with little flowers. It’s too hot for anything-tight today- but with your growing bump- everything feels tight. You’re only a few weeks away from the end of your second trimester, and you’re thankful that so far- you haven’t felt much morning sickness. You think you have a doctor’s visit later this week though- you’ll have to ask namjoon, he’s better at remembering that sort of thing than you are.

- One hybrid comes through the backdoor with a clutch of eggs from the chicken coop, the egg basket piled high, Jimin is with them too- holding a few eggs in his shirt- held out tight to make a basket, the cat hybrid smiles at you, “got almost 3 dozen today miss!”

- “Perfect for the frittata?” Jimin asks, unsure. “Quiche.” you and the cat hybrid correct at the same time. The three of you filing into the kitchen, Jimin careful not to break the eggs.

- A certain sleepy wolf hybrid is already sitting at your prep table, looking nervous, his scent souring when he sees you and Jimin. Jimin stays, this time crossing his arms and leaning up against the cabinets to watch Minhyung squirm. You sit down at the prep table across from him and pour him a cup of tea.

- He looks worried- sending a glance back and forth to Jimin and then to you. He knows what he did last night was wrong- and though Jimin can’t see any snake’s blood underneath his fingernails, the suspicion and dislike of the wolf hybrid still linger.

- But he doesn’t look like he’s trying to conceal anything. He just looks scared, eyes flicking from hybrid to hybrid, to the door and then the window and anywhere but at you and Jimin. Before the conversation’s even started, Jimin’s suspicion dissipates. While he agrees that Minhyung may be a dick, Jimin can’t believe that a hybrid would do this- they all know what discrimination feels like. Which is what makes their distaste of Yoongi particularly abhorrent.

- “I hear you have a certain problem with how I treat Yoongi, Minhyung. Would you like to elaborate? Or maybe explain why you kicked Jimin out of the bunk room last night? Or why you left a snake nailed to my front door-“

- “What?! I didn’t- I promise that wasn’t me,” Minhyung is smart- he understands what the commotion this morning was about. By now Taehyung must have woken everyone up- must have already told everyone about the meeting. Jimin doesn’t know if they’ve ever had one before, but judging by the general tense atmosphere in the kitchen alone- it must not be a regular occurrence.

- “I’m sorry,” he says, turning to Jimin, “I honestly thought you would be sleeping up here. I don’t sleep well and when you woke me up- I reacted badly. I promise I’ll be kinder- just don’t- please don’t throw me out.”

- “It’s not up to me,” Jimin says, his voice small, he gives you a look- that he hopes you interpret as ‘it’s up to you- I’m done with this’ and leaves the room. Only to find Yoongi hovering just outside, hidden behind the wall listening in.

- Jimin hears you and Minhyung starting up the conversation again, mostly it's him speaking this time- talking about his old owner who used sleep deprivation as a tactic to make him obedient. You don’t say much, just listen sipping at your tea. Yoongi lifts a finger to his lips and hands Jimin a carefully folded piece of paper. “I don’t think it was him.” By now Jimin is used to the way Yoongi sometimes converses on paper when he needs to communicate.

- “Do you know who it was then?” Jimin whispers, Yoongi shakes his head, but there is something about the tilt of his eyes that Jimin can’t find it in him to trust. But if there is a reason that Yoongi has for lying to him- then Jimin will trust it’s a good reason.

- He goes back into the kitchen, summoning you; you stand and walk to the door so that you won’t be overheard. Teetering a little bit, you look a little shaky too like you aren’t quite awake. Maybe that’s it- or is there something else? A shakiness behind your eyes too? Jimin can’t decipher it. Minhyung stays there, sitting looking contrite and like he’s close to tears. Fiddling with his hands under the table.

- “What are you going to do?” Jimin asks, Yoongi waiting too, his note crumpled in his fist. Namjoon comes thundering down the stairs in his work boots, looking intimidating as ever in all black. He must have snuck upstairs to change after he buried the snake in your garden. “I don’t know,” you say easily, crossing your arms over your baby bump, looking at Namjoon and sighing before you meet Jimin and Yoongi’s eyes. “Do you think he did it Yoongi?”

- Yoongi shakes his head, pursing his lips and Jimin decides that damn- he’s either a convincing liar or what he noticed earlier was just something else. Maybe Yoongi feeling uncomfortable. The buttons on his usual linen button-down aren’t buttoned right and his hair doesn’t have that usual perfectly swept out of his face look. Jimin is the only one still in his pajamas (which actually belongs to Yoongi) but he’ll try to change during the meeting.

- “If I throw him out there is a chance I could be punishing someone innocent, and if I let him stay there is a chance he could be guilty” Namjoon sits across the armrest of the old couch. “You’ve never thrown out someone before,” he says, bending down to tie his work boots.

- “No,” you say, eyes sharp on Namjoon, “but I’ve let you do it.”

- Namjoon freezes, standing up looking contrite, “I didn’t know you knew about that” Yoongi sends Jimin a panicked look; worried they’re about to witness some sort of fight between the two of you. But you just raise an eyebrow at Namjoon looking more tired than annoyed. “I’m not angry, but this should always be a joint decision,” you fiddle with Namjoon’s sleeve, tenderly smoothing over the edge of it. “So it’s settled then?”

- “This isn’t only our home anymore” you peer into the kitchen, keeping part of your body hidden by the wall. Minhyung still sits hands underneath his thighs, his head snaps up, black ears still buried in his hair. “You can stay, I trust you know that if anything else happens…” you trail off, he scrambles up from the prep-table. “Well, I trust you’ll have more sense than that.”

- He scrambles up from the prep-table. Minhyung almost breaks his back bowing to you, promising that he won’t do anything, that he’ll be the perfect hybrid again and again before he’s off down the hill- back to change out of his pajamas.

- It’s a humid day out and it isn’t even sunny, the moisture in the air oppressive. The hybrids are sleepy- hair and ears ruffled from sleep, some of them in work clothes and some of them still in their pajamas.

- Jimin sees one of the little ones make grabby arms at Seokjin (who looks clean pressed as ever) and the alpaca hybrid heaves the young one up into his arms, where it promptly closes its eyes and leans on his wide shoulder- the perfect place for a nap. Seokjin blushes when the new hybrid from a few weeks back, the otter Hoseok, comes over to coo at the little doe hybrid. His hands smoothing up and down her spine.

- Someone gets you a step stool and though Namjoon makes a face- he lets you use it to climb up onto a table. His hands anxiously hovering around your waist to make sure you won’t fall, he whines. But you ignore his instincts to be overprotective. Jimin can see the tension in Namjoon’s arms- he seems so worried that you’re going to fall- it’s almost cute.

- “This morning, a snake was nailed to my front door.” This is greeted by a few murmurs, nervous glances, and internal cringes. You hold up a hand, and the gathered hybrids all fall silent again. “You should all understand what safety means for a hybrid, and the fact that you would make one of your own feel unsafe and unwelcome- it hurts me. Because I obviously haven’t done a good enough job of taking care of you if you’re lashing out at one of your own. Yoongi is not to blame for your hurt.”

- Jimin is impressed by the way that you command their attention, The surrounding hybrids look scared; some look contrite, but most just look uncomfortable at being called out. They all know that Yoongi staying up in the main house and not in the barns isn’t a result of favoritism, but a necessity because of his inability to regulate his own body temperature. And even if you were playing favorites- it’s not like you don’t do the same with Namjoon?

- “If anyone has any complaints or is upset by the way I treat any one of you- you should come to me and talk about it. Not take it out on each other or my front door for that matter.” that gets a few chuckles out of the crowd. And it’s mostly the cat hybrids that have left the dishes in the kitchen to simmer rather than miss your announcement.

- After the meeting and breakfast, the four of you linger in the lower level of your house. The cleanup crew already blasting country music in your kitchen, and Jimin can see every twang of the country music irritates Yoongi and Namjoon

- Namjoon even making a small noise and rubbing his ears. You sigh, straightening out your dress on the bottom step, your hands shake a little. And you’re not the only one, Yoongi sits, his shoulders hunched. It only takes one glance up at them all for you to stop. Setting your sun hat back on the hook.

- “You know what- fuck this. We need to get out of here today.”

- All of you piling into your beat-up red truck, the same one Jimin had come to the farm in. Namjoon runs back in at the last moment to grab your purse. Yoongi and Jimin in the back two seats, a little cramped. Namjoon gets the front on account of his long legs. None of you talk about a destination as you make a three-point turn rather than try and back out of your near mile-long driveway.

- Not one hybrid lounging in the fields or moving about had given them so much as a look when you’d drove down the long hill. Pausing at the end only because Taehyung was nearby, the hybrid calling to you and trotting over to lean at your car door, his smile as happy as ever. Bear ears flickering in the holes cut out of his baseball cap.

- “Want to come with?” you offer, but Taehyung just shakes his head, “Nah my queen needs me” he tilts his head back in the direction of the bee hutches. is it Jimin’s imagination, or do you look a little crestfallen? “Need anything?” you’d proffered. He’s so tall he has to slouch to be at face level with you. Taehyung doesn't ask where you’re going, only looks as Yoongi leans over the front seat to fiddle with the radio, as if judging how affected the snake hybrid is by what transpired this morning. he flicks from channel to channel trying to find a song he likes. “Nothing really, maybe some more jars for honey if you can find them?”

- You nod softly “that I can do.” Taehyung steps back and waves as you pull out of the gates of the farm. And Jimin feels anticipation build underneath his skin. He’d rarely ever been outside of his old home before and now- now he was leaving the farm too- the destination uncertain.

- “Please don’t speed,” Namjoon says, Yoongi leans back from the radio, finally settled on some song with a low thread beat, more musical than anything else. The snake seems to vibrate with the force of the music and between that, the sound of the engine, and the wind whipping through the open windows, Namjoon has to shout to be heard. The wind tickles, but it’s the only relief from the muggy June heat since your air-conditioning is busted.

- You smile at him lightly; at 10am on the dusty dirt road there isn’t a sing soul with you on the road. You gun it. Namjoon grips the handle on the roof looking green, but when jimin looks over and sees you and Yoongi smiling at Namjoon’s queasy ness- his anxiety dissipates. It doesn’t matter that your truck is rusty and that you’re barely going over 40 in a 35- to Namjoon, one mile over the speed limit is breaking the law.

- You stop at the drive-through before you get on the highway, iced coffee for Yoongi, blended lemonade for Jimin, a hot chocolate for Namjoon (a travesty when it’s this hot) and an iced tea for you. The yellow lemons in your tea Jiggling with the ice as you hit potholes with little care for your truck. Yoongi leaning over periodically to change the song. Namjoon telling Jimin what genre is playing when he confesses he doesn’t know one, “is it jazz or ska?” Yoongi holds up two fingers- indicating the second choice, Namjoon nods.

- You look over your shoulder- sharing a special secret glance with jimin, rolling your eyes a little. Now he understands why you rarely ever play music when you work- if you did yoongi would get up to change the music every few seconds.

- “So where are we going?” you tap your fingers against the steering wheel, waiting to turn south onto the highway. “Probably not the beach, but maybe the State park? What do you think Joonie?”

- “I wouldn’t mind the state park, it’s got a pretty view” Jimin tries not to let his Disappointment show, especially when Namjoon turns to Jimin, sensing the whine that died in his throat. Yoongi nudges Jimin's foot with his own. The light turns green and you start to turn onto the highway. “I’ve never seen the ocean.”

- “What!?” you and Namjoon shout in tandem, you lurch to a dead stop, suddenly turning, around instead of just turning left. Yoongi turning to jimin mouth open. “Yeah- I’d never- I’d only been outside of like one block before coming to you?” Yoongi shakes his head as you get going the opposite way on the highway- getting into the slow lane because your truck just can’t handle going over 60 no matter how much you want it to be able to do that. “You don’t have to” Jimin tries to say; you smile when you glance over your shoulder at him. “I’m already on the highway Jimin.”

- Jimin pretends it doesn’t make his heart hurt a little bit to see you change so easily for him, the truck thudding along. Yoongi holding out the last half of his ice coffee for Jimin to try, smiling when he makes a face at the bitterness. You hold out your ice tea too, trading it for a sip of Jimin’s frozen lemonade. Namjoon offering him, but you being a little snarky, “sorry babe but I don’t think anyone but you want a hot chocolate in the middle of June.”

- Namjoon turns his full lanky body in your direction, thighs bulging out on the pleather, tipping his back and out of the window. “It just makes me unique,” you swallow, and jimin sees how viscerally you’re affected by the long line of him stretched out in the front seat of your car.

- Yoongi’s writes something on his notepad and handing it over to Jimin. “Yoongi wants you to know that you’re as unique as a dog sticking his head out the window of a car.” Namjoon scoffs, you laugh, Namjoon’s smirk as he looks at Yoongi is shy, and Jimin knows how that feels- the pride you feel at being known enough to be teased. “At least I know the difference between Ska and jazz now, that has to count something for uniqueness.”

- Jimin scoffs, “you gonna keep an imaginary tally or something?” Namjoon flicks his ears in Jimin’s direction, grinning, happy to be teased. “Yes- we can keep track, start being really weird like cutting our shirts into crop tops and painting them and shit,”

- “Oh please do that,” you say, and it’s a surprisingly attractive offer. Jimin has seen Namjoon’s stomach, all hard lines, and juicy skin when it pulls up or when it gets really hot and he takes off his shirt. And he can’t say he disagrees and judging by the high blush on Yoongi’s cheeks, he dosent either. All of you laugh with the way that Namjoon blushes and grumbles and fiddles with the edge of his shirt. The puppy is just too easy to tease.

- After some prodding, Jimin is tempted to lean his head out of the window too, and when he does he has to admit- looking down the narrow stretch of highway, eyes watering, his ears getting battered like hell because of the wind. It is worth it, his sensitive nose catching bits of something that smells like salt and fish the closer you get.

- Even Yoongi is tempted to do the same, though he might not get the same amount of joy the dog hybrids get from sticking their heads out the window. The wind sending his hair all windswept against his forehead. Curling because of the humidity.

- Yoongi’s tongue sticks out a little, as a snake hybrid his sense of smell isn’t nearly as good as Namjoon and Jimin’s, but it’s better when he can taste the air, the saltiness thicker the closer you get to the coast. Namjoon and Jimin’s tails wag out a rhythm on the seats.

- The beach is absolutely beautiful, the waves rolling and curling light blue but stormy the further out you go, Namjoon leaves his workboots in your truck and Jimin gets his knees and shorts all dirty in the sea spray, Yoongi declining to join in the water, writes that the salt makes his scales feel sticky and sits in the sand with your and Jimin’s shoes. Content to lean back and watch.

- Namjoon holding your hand to keep you steady as you dip your feet into the spray, your dress wiping in the wind. Jimin going crazy with excitement for a moment before he kicks at the spray and chases a few seagulls. None of you brought your swimsuits but Jimin dunks his full body once you gesture for him to take off his shirt so it won't get wet. You and Namjoon seem to have enough fun just dipping your feet in the cold water- but Jimin can’t get enough of the ocean now that he’s seen it. The way the waves curl, the thunder, the sharpness of salt on his tongue.

- He gets to knee height, and then to stomach height, the water is cold and a little unpleasant, but it’s worth it for the way the small waves ripple around him. Looking down at his body in the sea spray Jimin realizes- he doesn’t have a single bruise left on his body. It’s been some time since he came to stay at the farm and besides a few scars and aches, he doesn’t have a single mark on his body from what happened to him.

- The marks that lie underneath his skin- on Jimin’s soul could never go away as easily as that- but for a moment, he lets himself believe that the water could wash away even the wounds unseen. The last few weeks have taught Jimin that it’s not that easy, but if grief is the cousin of healing then Jimin will let himself feel sad about this if it means he can hope that one day he’ll barely feel broken.

- When he submerges his body and feels the drag of the ocean out to see, he lets himself imagine that the ocean is taking something from him and dragging it to a deep place where it can weigh on him anymore. And maybe when he gets his head above water- he feels a tiny infinitesimal bit better. but only time will tell if it actually makes it better. Jimin is on his way to healing and he knows he only needs time.

- When he gets back out, he almost stumbles in the surf and looks back at the beach, where the three of you are waiting for him. The three of you watch him separate himself from the waves. Your eyes going up and down his chest. Yoongi looking away after a moment. Writing on his pad of paper and scribbling it out angrily after a moment. Handing it over to Jimin

- “Feel better?” “Yeah- it’s” he shakes his body, ears flopping and sticking to his wet hair, the seawater beading in the sand. “It's nice in there. You should go in” “next time,” Yoongi writes. “You look a lot better Jiminie,” Namjoon says, handing over his flannel so that Jimin can use it to dry off. “What do you mean?” you stand to poke playfully at Jimin’s little poochy tummy, “you’ve gained a lot of weight you look healthy, I love it. ”

- He feels the fire in his cheeks, your words making his heart stutter. “Just one second” he turns away and hides his blush in Namjoon’s flannel, a high-pitched and very loud whine building in his chest or something like the need to scream swallowed by his throat because- ah fuck. He’s feeling something he shouldn’t be, isn’t he? But he must make some noise because you’re all laughing, Yoongi’s shoulders shaking as he hides his smile behind his hand.

- Before he’s turning back and handing it back to Namjoon face redder than a tomato. The other hybrid doesn’t say a thing about how it’s soaked in both water and Jimin’s scent, he Just ties it around his waist like Jimin’s scent clinging to him is the most natural thing in the world.

- You go back to the car so Namjoon can get his shoes, you talk about heading back but Yoongi isn’t ready to leave, wants to stay a little bit longer. You walk along the boardwalk; you buy some fried food that the three of you snack on, cyclone potatoes, and fried clams. Yoongi crunches into them happily, his cute little fang curling around his lip.

- Eventually, the boardwalk turns from games and restaurants into a small flea market, kitschy decorations, an overpriced Pepsi sign from the 1950s, a table made out of a glass coffin, curling horns mounted from some sort of creature. You mill about when your phone rings, shrill. “Hey Tae, what’s wrong?” you fiddle with a glass wall hanging; the stained glass fashioned to look like a cherry. Prattling onto Taehyung over the phone as Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin look through the tables of knickknacks.

- Yoongi eyes a silk dress shirt- Kind of garishly patterned. As behind them, a little girl points in their direction. There aren’t many other hybrids out on the boardwalk today, so Namjoon smiles at her, his scarred lip always moves a little less than the rest of his face, and the little girl’s mother pulls her closer and moves on quickly. Namjoon’s smile falls crestfallen.

- But as quick as the disquiet comes Yoongi is making him laugh by showing him a figurine- a piggybank that looks like a butt, the crack a hole for a coin. And the moment is forgotten. Most of the time- Jimin forgets what Namjoon must look like to the others, the scars that stretch, one from his jaw to halfway up to his cheek, another across and eye, and the newer one- from his chin to his lip.

- Jimin spies a weird metal holder, a sun on the front, mostly rusty, weird holes and test tubes set up so that they can stand in the holes. The man who runs the stand comes over to him. He’s not unkind to them, seems to be something of an outcast himself with his tattoos and gauged piercings. He greets jimin with a wide smile. “It’s meant for flowers, the test tubes hold one a piece” Namjoon smiles at him too. Sidling up behind Jimin, putting a hand on his shoulder. Namjoon’s warmth splaying over half his back “how much is it?”

- By now it's no secret how much Jimin loves flowers, a love both of you share (Yoongi’s thing is more vegetables). “Namjoon you don’t have too- I don’t need it” he looks like he’s about to say something, Yoongi scrawling something but before either of them can say anything, you get off the phone a few feet away. Pinching the bridge of your nose and their attention is diverted.

- You look substantially more stressed and they don’t need to ask what happened. “Apparently everything goes to shit when we’re gone, but a fuse blew in the house and now none of the refrigerators are working. We also got another call but the old owners are gonna drop the hybrid off later tonight. And apparently, a goat got into the garden but Seokjin got to him before he’d done any damage.” Yoongi looks about ready to run back into the truck at that.

- “Probably because he was distracted running after that otter hybrid again” you slap Namjoon’s arm good-naturedly. “Hush they’ve got crushes, and you remember what that’s like right?” Namjoon glances at Jimin and then at Yoongi, “yeah- I think I do.”

- As you’re on the way out you pass by the fruit section of the flea market- the place that is more a farmers market at the edge of the boardwalk. “those watermelons look good” you divert your course, and Namjoon rolls his eyes, “next thing I know her cravings are going to have me putting watermelon in sour cream soon”

- “That doesn’t seem like a bad combination at all” Yoongi makes a disgusting face, suddenly freezing when he looks over your shoulder, someone walks close to him, nearly knocking into Yoongi and his scent, disquieted and afraid fluffs towards Namjoon and jimin, they hover- instantly surrounding Yoongi while you are unaware.

- Which is fine- you’re not a hybrid and you can’t smell Yoongi’s distress like they can, you’re distracted by the lady who owns the stand coming upfront to greet you. Namjoon shrivels his nose, the smell of cigarettes permeating and making it hard for him to smell anything else.

- He tries to waves his hands and tell Namjoon and Jimin he’s fine but they won’t listen, the two of them stand on either side of him, staying close but not touching Yoongi- keeping anyone else in the crowd from coming close.

- You start talking to the woman who looks like she owns the stand. she gives one of the watermelons a hearty slap and yoongi flinches. She’s got long black hair and a wide smile- but she looks nice. She makes a wry comment about your baby bump and the watermelons, which you laugh about good naturedly about even if it is a little rude in Jimin’s opinion. Saying that you’re not at the true watermelon part of your pregnancy yet.

- In the end- you part with 10 (for everyone on the farm- it can never hurt to have easy snacks like watermelon in storage) and a half-bushel of their assorted vegetables. As much as you want to be completely self-sustainable your vegetable garden isn’t nearly ready to support every hungry mouth at the farm, and their English cucumbers are long and hard. You look happy to do business with them all said and done.

- The lady directs one of her farm hands, a big burly man with a bunch of tattoos to help Namjoon, Jimin and Yoongi carry them back and fort to your truck. Yoongi stops you when they’re finished. Shoving a note in your direction. “There’s something I want to go do, can you give me a second?”

- You nod, already taking out your wallet. Behind the two of you Jimin sneaks a handful of grape tomatoes into his pocket- they’re still his favorite. “we’ll get a few snacks for the drive home, take your time” he tries to not take your money but you won’t take no for an answer. Eventually shoving it in the breast pocket of his linen shirt if he won’t take it with his hands. He grumbles, shoving the wad of 20’s deep in his pocket.

- The three of you don’t think anything of it at all. After all- snake hybrids have uniquely tricky scents to parse out. So it’s no wonder why Jimin and Namjoon don’t smell the distress coming from him still. You think you notice something- but you let it slide. You’re never one to let Yoongi’s sudden mood changes affect you or take them personally.

- Sometimes he just gets too overheated to process things right. And you can tell from the way he’s listless that he’s at least approaching overheating. Getting into the car with the air-conditioning will be good for him. You make a mental note to pick him up another ice coffee.

- But meanwhile- while you’re waiting in line at a fast-food stand, Namjoon grabbing a few bags of chips off of a rack and jimin screwing around with a soda dispenser- figuring out how many different types of soda he can fit in one cup. Yoongi is being thrown into the side of a truck with a loud clang. His back hitting it and then his head jarring painfully. The sound alone sending him reeling into the dirt. But the man doesn’t let him fall. A hand savagely yanking his hair back. The unwanted contact sending shivers all up and down his body.

- “And here I thought you’d be more careful not to come so close. Did you think no one here would recognize you? We knew you where here the second you stepped out of that shitty truck.”

- Yoongi blinks, trying to keep the black spots out of his eyes. And she’s right. He did know better, the beachfront has always been their territory. Yoongi remembers the days he’d sneaked out and walked down to the beach in the middle of the night. The only time he ever felt some semblance of freedom. As long as he remained unseen and unheard she didn’t care. But today he’d been the opposite of unseen.

- He can’t respond. And Knows better than to try. His owner has never been fond of Yoongi’s voice, and she’s trained him well enough to know not to use it ever in front of her, his whole body had almost jumped out of his skin when he’d seen her, and seen you in front of her. All of the protective instincts in his body screaming at him to get you away from her to get you away from danger.

- Yoongi might be a liar, and a filthy double-crosser, worth every bit of ire and distrust from the other hybrids. He might not deserve your kindness or your care- not even a little bit and still, he’d never let anyone hurt you.

- She kicks off a crate of peaches; her black boots clicking on something metallic in the dust, cracking into one with a pop of her teeth into the tight skin. Coming close and getting in Yoongi’s face as the man holds him there for a second more, but then releases him. Both of them know they can’t rough Yoongi up like usual- any bruises would be too suspicious.

- “Did you like my little present this morning?” Yoongi flinches and she laughs. He’d suspected but hadn’t really known for sure if the message this morning was from her. But now he knows, he’s even more afraid than he was opening the door this morning. At least he’d come when called, Yoongi doesn’t want to think about what would have happened or what might have popped up on your front door had you gone somewhere else today.

- Yoongi is a good hybrid. Years of getting thrown into walls and slapped and kicked and burned by the stray end of a cigarette have trained him well, he always comes when he’s called.

- “You have until the end of the summer Yoongi- after that if you’re not back and with what I asked for, I’ll make sure that house goes up in flames.” She flicks a lighter, starting up a cigarette that makes Yoongi’s nose twinge uncomfortably. Bad memories. So many bad memories from looks like that as she puffs on her cigarette and blows the smoke in his face.

- “It’s a cute house, especially the garden. I didn’t know you had a thing for that- maybe I’ll have you grow some kale or vegan shit for me when you get back. And then I’ll really be like little miss high brow too huh? Looks like she eats healthy” Yoongi shakes and his owner laughs. So then she has been watching him. He doesn’t let himself wonder who at the farm might be there for a reason like Yoongi. What other snakes you might have in your garden.

- Yoongi can’t be there for long, can’t be absent. But he knew from the second he met his owner’s eyes over your shoulder that she would expect him to report back. That to not come when he was called would be as good as promising violent retribution, something far worse than a snake nailed to your front door.

- She leans in close to Yoongi, and Yoongi can’t resist leaning away, as she breathes the smoke in his face, his hands shaking at his sides. He watches her put out her cigarette in the peachy pink flesh of the peach wincing.

- He knows better than to talk back now or even squirm as she leans closer, barely a centimeter from his face. Even though a hook on the side of the truck is digging into the small of his back. “Remember little viper- if I see you so much as touch them- or let out even a fucking whisper- I’ll kill them in front of you then kill you myself”

- Yoongi understands- how could he not- he’s nothing more than her plaything- her spy. Yoongi wonders what she’d do if she knew he’d already broken the first rule. No touching though there had only been a few times, your hand on his arm when he was in the middle of a heat-induced meltdown, and this morning when you’d cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

- Before anything else happens, 3 other men of her’s come around the corner of the truck, two of them hooding up the third who looks close to passing out. blood dripping down the side of his shirt. Yoongi has seen enough fights to know how someone looks when they’ve lost one. What’s more surprising is the fact that they’ve lost one here- the boardwalk is supposed to be his owner's territory. To touch her operation here- that means something significant, but even more strangely, his owner and her right-hand man don’t even look surprised.

- He struggles to put the situation together, Yoongi remembers one time when they were teenagers- back when it wasn’t his owner's gang, but her father’s. How he’d gone into a rage because some rival had decided to even vacation on their beaches- nearly unloading the full clip of a gun into their group in broad daylight.

- If they’re being pushed back- even to here, then there is something wrong- a rival gang or the police- whichever party had earned his owner's aggression this time, was surely soon to fall. But a gang war isn’t something that Yoongi’s ever seen. She fusses over the man two others holding him up, and Yoongi slides away, back into the crowd of the boardwalk. Knowing this time- he won’t be missed.

- Yoongi walks back to the car, telling himself to enjoy every minute that he has left. Because once the summer heat fades. He knows it’s all going to go away. As he walks, even as he knows there’s probably someone watching him. He stops in front of the flea market. His feet unable to take him closer to you, the closer he gets- the less safe you are. and still- he wants to be close to you- for just a little longer, so that he knows what it’s like.

- To have a pack, a family, people who care about him and love him. Before he goes back to how he lived before he wants you to know that he loves you, loves Namjoon and Jiminie too. That he would stay if he could.

- He might not be able to touch any of the people he wants to touch in the way that he wants or say the words that he wants to say, but he can show you all that you mean to him. At least now- before time runs out and it’s too late.

- Maybe some acts of defiance are less about trying to live, and more about making sure you have a chance to live before his misdeeds eventually catch up with him. And if anyone is deserving of some sort of karmic judgment It’s Yoongi.

- He hopes you won't hate him when you find out- if you ever do.

- It’s worth it- it’s all worth it to see the way that Jimin’s ears perk up when Yoongi brings back the flower holder from the stand for him, that and a silk bandana for Namjoon to keep his hair back when he’s working, and the little wall trinket you were looking at. stained glass cut in the shape of a pair of cherries. (He won’t know- but later- you’ll hang it in the window of the nursery of your and Namjoon’s room)

- The puppy holds the flower holder in his lap the whole ride home. Nearly getting his chubby finger stuck in one of the test tubes at one point. That nearly makes Yoongi laugh out loud. As you wind your way back to the farm, snacking on fried dough and blooming onions making Namjoon’s breath stinky enough that you press on his chest when he leans in for a kiss and eventually relents when he lets out a heartbreaking wine.

- Yoongi doesn’t let himself dream for more of this- because however long he gets he know he won't deserve it either way- he doesn’t deserve a single act of kindness from you. Let alone the kind of care and love you’ve all shown him. He just closes his eyes, leans his cheek against the open window, and lets his soul rest. Just for a little longer. All he needs is a little longer.

- Yoongi lies to himself and tells himself that the summer will be enough.

- Later that night, You’re already underneath your covers, turning restless in your too warm sheets. Namjoon lingers in the bathroom brushing his teeth. “Did you notice something strange with Yoongi today?”

- “No- why?” you fiddle with the edge of your coverlet.

- “He seemed super tense on the way how and somehow I got it into my head that there was something more wrong with him than usual” Namjoon sets a glass of water for you on your bedside table pulls himself over the top of your bedspread. Pressing a toothpasty kiss to your mouth that makes you smile. His hand coming up to cradle your hip, thumb rubbing wide strokes over your baby bump.

- He always gets this look in his eyes. A little lost in his own love when he looks at you late at night like this. You pepper a kiss down his cheek and over his scar, making his face twitch a little-you know it tickles in the same way he knows you’re teasing him- just a little. “If you want to go check on him, I don’t mind.”

- Namjoon’s point is clear, the emphasis on check you know what he means and what he wants. The emphasis on hybrid pack dynamics, that it really wouldn’t be strange to Namjoon If you went to Yoongi’s room…and ended up spending a little time there. If anything- it probably seems weird to him if you haven’t.

- You let the moment slide, lean over to turn off the light, and kiss Namjoon a little more, his lips are hot but gentle on yours. Taking the time to kiss you without a rush for more, nipping at your neck once before he settles in- you’re getting into the stage of your pregnancy where its hard to lay on your side too much so instead- Namjoon mimics your usual position, his leg slung over your thighs, head tucked close to your shoulder.

- And he makes these cute little noises, little huffs and small growl groans that remind you of a puppy before he falls asleep. But you can’t sleep- you stare at the ceiling in your bedroom and can’t help but think about Yoongi earlier. How you thought for a second you’d seen him crying on the way home, spied in your rearview mirror, head hanging out the window and his cheeks wet. somehow your bed feels more empty than it used too. Even with you and Namjoon in it.

- after a few more minutes where you wonder if you’ll ever get to sleep, You slip out of your and Namjoon’s bed and sneak down the hallway. Your footsteps cushioned against the carpet as you head down the hall to Yoongi’s room. and you know it’s late but you can’t leave him alone- not when you could fix it and help him.

- You knock softly; thinking about all of the times in which you try to help- on your worst days- when it feels like helping others is all your good for. nothing else in you but that, nothing to appreciate or love beyond what you can do for others because you feels so broken- too broken to be loved without giving up your time like an apology. A lot of the time it feels like you have nothing but acts of service to offer. But on those days, it’s always Namjoon, Yoongi, and jimin that soothe you without even trying,

- Your lover cupping your chin in his hand and telling you that he can’t get enough of you, that he thought about you all day and couldn’t wait to just stand close to you. The quiet care he shows you, massaging the puffy ball of your ankle. The way sometimes he’ll come up behind you when you’re fiddling with your outfit in the morning, his wide hands fisting in the sides of your dress. Making a low whine and scent marking along your shoulder so that every hybrid on the farm knows you’re his.

- The way namjoon can tell just by looking at you if you need his help, and knows better, like today, when you need a little distance to get your thoughts sorted.

- Yoongi’s soft companionship the way he’ll shake his head and take the heavy things from you, the roll of his eyes doing the speaking for him, “what would Namjoon think if I let you carry this on your own” or the way that he’d sometimes tap the edge of your hat with his long fingers making it bounce, lip pulling up to show his cute little fangs.

- When jimin looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the side for him. Ready to ramble on and on about whatever new thing he’d tried today. Wanting to include you in his process as he became adjusted to the world. The way that he hangs on to every word you say, following you around like a lost puppy, but you would never mind that- how could you? When he was so smitten that it made your heart flutter to be liked with such loving intent.

- You knock on Yoongi’s door, and he answers with wet cheeks, looking startled, rubbing his cheek with the side of his hand. “Yoongi, are you alright?” he shakes his head, hovering, body swaying. You can tell from the hum that the air-conditioning is on high. Not too surprising given the heat of the day, and you know it’s easier for Yoongi to make his room cool and then work up to the kind of warmth he needs then do it the other way.

- His blinds are all drawn, no light on in his room. Thought you peeked outside and sure enough- the stars were shining bright, no moon in the sky. “Can I come in?” Yoongi looks like- fuck- this is going to hurt him, but he nods anyway.

- He scoots over in his bed and moves one of the covers down and lets you climb in on the other side of the bed, and the covers are cool and comfortable beneath your skin, the only light in the room comes from the display panel of the air-conditioning unit and the green makes Yoongi’s eyes glow yellow. “You can tell me- something’s wrong, isn’t it? if its something I can fix you’ve got to tell me- Yoongi- I-“

- Yoongi pulls himself up to hover over you on one arm, his other hand coming up to comb back your hair, you’re stunned into silence. The words leaving your mouth as you find yourself inches away from him, the cool line of his body pressed up against yours. And you think- because you’re both in pajamas and not actually touching skin to skin- you think that is the reason why it might not bother him so much.

- Yoongi is all lithe muscle and harsh edges, but he’s nothing more than gentle with his hands when he softly brushes over your cheek, his eyes molten gold as he tilts his chin up, his soft lips press against your forehead for just a second, the reverse of what you’d done for him this morning.

- Maybe you were both too worn out from the day’s events not too need each other’s company. He tilts his body to the side and leans up on his elbow to watch you. And you might expect it to feel strange- his body and it’s the absence of heat, but underneath the covers it actually feels comforting, cooling amid the summer humidity that just won’t quit.

- He leans in close to poke at your cheek with his nose, nuzzling with slow curling motions as if to tell you- go to sleep, and sleep you do, the coolness of the bed and Yoongi’s body supplying relief to your overheated muscles. Yoongi knows what you needed without you having to say it- the same way that you always knew what he needed. Yoongi stays close and curls around you tightly- his arm and his leg wrapping around you, protecting you both from something you might not see.

- Your last thought before you fall asleep is a question, is Yoongi’s strong grip on you- like he’s holding on for dear life, something to do with his snake genes? Or is there some other reason why his muscles and legs tremble when they hold you close like he’s afraid something is going to be able to separate you.

- Before you truly fall asleep, you think you hear a low voice say something, just a few words, but regardless of what Yoongi might have said- or if he spoke at all, You won’t remember it in the morning.

Kofi

BONUS: Jimin’s little flower holder!

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waiting4inspiration · 4 years ago

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Ride (Ivar x Reader)

Summary: Ivar only wants the best. And when his search for the best horses leads him to your city and he sees you trying to tame a wild stallion, he ends up wanting something different

Warnings: strong language, SMUT, +18 content, unprotected sex, slight fem!dom, mentions of war, i don’t know much about taming horses but i did the best i could,

Word Count: 3,875

Vikings Masterlist

Ivar only wants the best. The best soldiers in his army, the best ships in his navy, the best horses for his soldiers. He has the first two, now all he needs his horses. Strong, well-bred, well-trained stallions that will ride his army into battle against the Saxons. And there’s only one place in all of Norway that breed and train horses like that.

The city of Kvia is known to everyone as the Horselands. So much so, that it’s hardly even called Kvia. The Earl of Kvia, Denrin, only gives a team of his best horses to whoever pays the best price. And because Ivar wanted that, his bargaining with the Earl of the Horseland went on all through the winter season.

Now, it’s time for the king to see his prize.

It’s exactly as Ivar imagined it to look like. Green pastures far as the eye can see, herds of horses grazing on the luscious grass, some being rounded up by men, others being ridden. It’s only once they pass a certain point that leads them deeper into the land that there is a horse everywhere Ivar looks.

Denrin meets Ivar at the gates of his city, riding a gallant pale stallion to lead Ivar and his company to the fort-like building that would be Denrin’s Great Hall. The grey stone building, rigid and strong almost contrasts the freedom the green land gives off.

“We’ve given you a fine team of horses, King Ivar,” Denrin speaks as he leads Ivar and his brothers through the training ground. “All of our horses are trained to look fear and danger in the eye, obey their rider’s command whatever they may be, and might even be the steed that would lead you to Valhalla,” he mentions with a chuckle, but Ivar doesn’t laugh.

Ivar watches and men and women lead horses between training circles and stables, alternating between feeding stations and drinking wells. The sounds of steeds braying almost overshadow the communication of the people in the area.

“Even though we breed our own horses, wild horses roam the outer banks of the land. Those horses you saw when you entered the Horselands,” the horse lord states, looking over his shoulder to the visiting party. “We leave them be, unless they have been hurt or cast out of their herd. Then, we take them in and try to tame them,” he mentions, holding his hand out to gesture to a training ring with a single horse inside it.

The black beauty gallops around the fence, around a single trainer inside and a lunge line connecting them. “It also gives us a chance to breed fresh horses with different blood. And it gives the trainers something different to work on. Breaking a wild horse is not an easy job.”

“Who is that in the center?” Ivar questions right as Denrin stops talking. His eye has been fixed on the woman in the center of the horse’s galloping circles the entire time.

Denrin smiles as he shifts on his feet. “That is my daughter,” he states proudly, making Ivar turn his head to look at him. “She has been working on taming that horse for weeks. He’s a stubborn thing, only listens to her,” he mentions, nodding to you when you click your tongue and gently tug on the lunge line to order the horse to come to you.

The horse shakes his head and huffs out as his gallops turn to a canter. With a stern voice, you call the stallion and tug on the line again. And this time, he listens to you. The black steed walks over to you, keeps his head up confidently before nosing the hand you hold out for him.

“She will attempt to ride him today,” Denrin mentions as he takes a step forward to carry on leading Ivar, Ubbe, and Hvitserk through the training grounds and towards the stables holding their horses.

The rest of the tour goes by before Ivar can realize it. He is happy with his horses. His trust for Denrin and his horses is much like his trust for Floki and his boats. And even though he thought most, if not all, would be stallions, Denrin said that some of the mares can be just as spirited. They made their arrangements on how and when the horses would travel to Kattegat for Ivar’s use, and then it was time to witness the event everyone seems to have been waiting for.

The visiting guests didn’t think that someone trying to ride a wild stallion would be such a big deal. But there’s a crowd gathered around the training ring you and your horse were in before. Now, only the black stallion is there, minding his own business. He’s used to the crowd by now because it’s always busy during the day. He’s learned that if he doesn’t mind them, they won’t mind him.

“Do you think she’ll succeed?” Ubbe questions as he and Ivar find a spot where they can see the ring and the horse perfectly.

“I hope she does,” Hvitserk mentions as he comes to join his brothers. “I’ve placed a bet on her. A good one,” he chuckles, glancing down at the pocket of coins in his hands before he looks up at Ubbe and Ivar.

Ivar only rolls his eyes as he turns to try and find you. “She’s Denrin’s daughter. The chance is she learned how to ride a horse before even learning how to walk,” he mutters, smirking to himself at the thought of that. His words mean that he’s sure you’ll succeed in riding this wild beauty.

Seeing you walking out the stables, a saddle over your arms, and your gaze fixed on the training ring, Ivar shifts in his spot and marvels at the determination in your eyes. Hvitserk laughs to himself as a thought crosses his mind when his eyes wander down your body. “With legs like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if she rode men the way one would ride a wild horse.”

Those words bury themself in Ivar’s mind, making thoughts of his own spark up with him even trying. It makes his eyes fall to see what caused Hvitserk to say those words, and he takes in a deep breath at the sight of your legs. Oh yes, he can see the vulgar image his brother tried to paint so vividly now.

The image of you mounting him, those legs of yours either side of his useless one, hand on his chest to steady yourself above him as his fingers dig into the muscle of your thighs. Gods, what it would be like to have those legs clench around him as he-

You break his thoughts by placing the saddle on the fence with a thud, making him turn his gaze down to the ground to avoid meeting your gaze. Curse Hvitserk for putting the thought in his head. Now, he won’t be able to think of anything else on your attempt to ride the wild horse in the ring with you.

Walking to the horse, you breathe out a sigh and hold out your hand when he starts to walk to you again. You’ve accomplished this trick to get him to come to you by feeding him treats at first, making him think that you’ll always have something to give him. When other trainers have tried, he doesn’t budge.

“I know you’re nervous. So am I,” you whisper to him as you stroke his face with one hand, the other resting on the bridle you put on him this morning so that he’s used to it by now. “But, I trust you won’t throw me off and try to kill me,” you chuckle, grab the reins and slowly lead him over to the saddle.

It’s quiet. Everyone knows this part is crucial. If the horse doesn’t smell the saddle or doesn’t accept it, you won’t be riding him today. So, they all watch in anticipation as you secure the reins to the fence and place a hand on the saddle.

You know that this wild horse is also a curious stallion. You know he’ll smell the saddle. And when he does and doesn’t back away or get nervous, you smile to yourself and stroke his neck in affection, telling him he’s done a good job.

Ivar watches intently as you place the saddle on the horse’s back. He watches as you watch the horse closes, looking out for any sign that he doesn’t like this. It’s very, very clear that you’ve done this before.

With the saddle tightened and the horse still calm, you can breathe out a sigh of relief and turn to look for your father as the crowd softly cheers. They don’t want to freak the horse out while you’re so close to him. Denrin gives you an approving and encouraging nod. This is the moment he knows you’ve been waiting for since you managed to wrangle the wild spirit.

This isn’t the first time your horse has had a saddle on him, another thing you’ve made sure he’s used to before trying to ride him. It’s only a case of getting him to get used to having someone on his back and controlling him from there.

With the reins back in your hand and you now standing beside him, everyone holds a breath as you slip your foot into the stirrup and slowly, very slowly, pull yourself up to mount your horse.

You try to stay calm to keep your horse calm, but you can feel your racing heart in your chest as you sit on top of this strong animal. Patting the side of his neck when he doesn’t freak out, you sigh gently and nod your head as you whisper an approval to him.

Now, you need to ride him. It’s all good and well mounting him. But you need to take him around the ring a few times for you to be successful. And with a click of your tongue and a light urge from your heels, he starts to walk.

But you can see he’s on high alert and you make the small mistake of tightening your grip around the reins.

He startles, kicks his back legs out and whinnies as he shakes his head. You try to calm with him a smooth tone, but he does it again. “Easy,” you sternly say.

Shaking his head to get you to stop touching him, he breaks into a canter around the ring. When he bucks, an attempt to get whatever’s on his back off, you clench your legs to stop yourself from falling off and tug lightly on the reins.

Ivar’s mouth falls slightly at the display in front of him, the fight for power and dominance. It makes Hvitserk’s words come back to him and the thoughts he had afterward. He watches how you move your body to accommodate the bucking and rearing motions of the horse, and his mind immediately sees you above him again, rocking your body like that as you moan.

The horse stands up on his back legs, making people gasp and become more alert in case you fall and get hurt. But, you stay in your place. When the horse is back on all fours, you decide that it’s enough. Stroking his neck and you dismount, you breathe out a deep sigh and shake your head as your lips turn up into a smile.

The crowd around the ring cheers. You’ve done it. You’ve successfully ridden your wild horse for the first time without being thrown off.

And you’ve left images in Ivar’s mind that will no doubt make him hard every time he thinks of them, but you don’t know that part.

He won’t officially meet you until tomorrow, but he wants to meet you. Oh Gods, does he want to meet you. He reminds himself that he is a King. If he wishes to meet you, then he will do just that.

Which is why he finds himself standing in front of your bedroom doors minutes after your successful ride, his hand just inches from the door to knock. There are horses engraved in the wood, something that keeps his eyes busy for a moment before he eventually knocks.

“Yes?” He hears your voice from the other side, encouraging him to enter the room. And he does.

He walks past the door, his hand gripping the crutch at his side tightly when Hvitserk’s cursed words come to mind again. Now it not the time to think of you fucking him, he scolds to himself.

Then, he sees the bath in the room, wonders if you had just gotten out or if you were getting in. But the sight of your damp hair tells him he had come at a good time. The thin nightgown around your body says it’s a very good time.

“King Ivar. I wasn’t expecting you to introduce yourself today,” you say as you stand from your seat and take a small step forward.

It’s because of the journey here. He knows you’ve been told to let him rest before introductions can be made, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help his thoughts.

There’s a look in his eyes when they return to yours after wandering over your body, an action that makes a shiver roll through your body. Here, a man you have yet to meet, a King, staring at you in awe and fascination.

“I had to meet you after watching you ride that wild horse,” he explains, making your head nod in understanding as you fold your arms over your chest when he walks forward. “I couldn’t help but see for myself the woman able to tame something so strong.”

You chuckle at his words, bite your lower lip and stare into his eyes as he stands in front of you. You take the chance to do as he had done to you and run your eyes up and down his body. He’s afraid you’ll be discouraged by his legs, but that thought disappears as quickly as it appears when your eyes shoot back up to lock with his as you take another step forward. “You and I both know that is not the whole truth,” you whisper in a low voice as you drop your arms to your sides.

His face drops and his heart skips a beat as your lips stretch into a smile. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first man to get hard at the sight of me taming wild stallions,” you laugh as you turn to walk away. “Or to fantasize. I understand,” you add, standing beside your bed and to pick up a necklace on the pillow, a medallion of your father’s crest hanging on the chain.

“Really?” Ivar questions, intrigued about how you know this without having even met you.

You hum, turn to face him again as you rest your hand on the medallion and turn your body to him. “My mother told me something very important before I became a woman,” you begin, luring him closer as you glance down to your hands and smile innocently to yourself. Ivar can’t help stepping forward in curiosity. “She said that some men like to imagine themselves as the horse a woman tames. It’s the reason my father fell in love with her. Because he saw himself as that mighty steed my mother once rode, trying to make it submit to her, trying to overpower and already powerful creature. And sometimes, that’s what a man wants,” you explain, making Ivar’s skin erupt into goosebumps as he stops right in front of you.

“She told me, some men want a woman to try and break them. Tell me, King Ivar, is that what you wanted when you saw me?” you ask, taking that final step forward as your hands reach up to rest on his chest.

He reaches up as well, to touch the side of your face as he leans slightly closer. Shaking his head, he holds his stare with you, making your heart racing like a team of horses as his eyes flicker down to your lips. “No. When I saw you on that horse, I didn’t want you to try and break me. Because I cannot be broken,” he whispers, your bottom lip tucking in between your teeth as he leans closer even more and drops the crutch to the ground. “I wanted the power I saw from you. Your strength, your determination.”

A breath catches in your throat as he moves his hand to rest around your neck, your lips popping out from between your teeth as you smell that warm, earthy smell on him. “I want you to ride me like you ride your horse,” he growls, his breath hitting your face before his lips crash over yours.

Moaning into his mouth as you let his tongue in, your fingers grip his tunic tightly - like reins - and you turn him so he can sit on your bed. His hands slip under the sheer nightgown and run up those thighs he’s been thinking about since Hvitserk mentioned them. He can feel your muscles constricting and relaxing as you shift to adjust your position, grinding your body against his as you kiss him deeply.

As you pull the tunic off over his head and break the kiss, you stare into his eyes as you try to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. His hands continue to rise up your body, pulling your nightgown with it before he lifts it over your head, leaving you naked in front of him.

“I ride rough,” you softly mention as his hands run back down your body, over your breasts making a tingle run through your body.

Ivar hums as he drops his face in the bend of your neck to kiss your skin, making you breathe out a shaky sigh and grip his shoulders. “I cannot be broken,” he reminds, muttering his words against your skin before biting it.

Before he can leave a mark, you push him down onto his back and keep your hands on his chest as you stare down at him with the same look in your eyes as you had before walking into the ring to ride your horse. “We’ll see about that,” you murmur, running your hands down to his pants to free the hard cock you’ve felt growing as he kissed you.

He smiles wickedly up at you, helps you untie the laces of his pants and stops you from pushing them all the way off. Maybe, if he gives you a bit of a challenge, a goal to get him full naked, it will make you come back for more and this won’t just be a one-time thing.

Wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, he pulls you down for another kiss, this one full of lust and carnal need. Rolling your hips against his, you make his moan at the friction between you and he breaks the kiss to focus on what he wants most.

Just like he had imagined it, your legs come either side of his as you sit upright, your hands on his chest as you raise yourself above him, his fingers digging into your thighs to slowly, slowly, bring you down onto his cock.

As you stretch around him, your mouth falls open as you take in a sharp breath, your head falling back as you let out a moan at the feeling of him filling you up perfectly. He watches as a tremble runs through your body before you start to rock your hips, your head falls forward so you can lock your gaze with his.

He thrusts up into you as he remembers your horse bucking when you rode him moments ago, the action making you gasp and your body to jerk as your nails dig into his chest. The mischievous look in his eyes makes you smile and laugh as you shake your head. “If you’re going to behave like that then,” you whisper, leaning down to press your body to his as you tease his lips with a kiss.

Groaning as you rock against him, your pace picking up slowly, he grabs a fist full of your tight meat and bucks his hips against you, making a moan fall from your lips. “That’s better,” he says to himself, but you chuckle at his words and push yourself up again.

Grinding down on him as a way to try and tell him to stop bucking, you feel pleasure starting to grow in your stomach. You almost want to break him. Right now, he could walk out of your room after this and go fuck some other girl if he wanted to. But you want him to stay thinking about you, wanting you. You want him to come to you, just as the horse you trained does. You want him to be yours.

As he thrusts again, you scrap your nails down his chest, pulling out a hiss from him as he grips your hips tightly. And that’s when he starts working with you.

Instead of wildly bucking his hips when he feels like it, he decides to roll with your movements. He watches you as you back arches, your riding becoming harder, and your walls clench around him as he scratches your thighs as you did his chest.

He wants all of a sudden turn you around and fuck you into the furs over the bed. But perhaps he’ll do that later. He wants to carry on with this, with you riding him, moving with his rough hips snaps, moaning out his name and panting in pleasure. He wants to finish dragging your hips in the movement he wants, feel you struggle against him, try to tame him to do what you want. He wants to finish seeing you try to make him submit to your ways.

“Oh, Gods,” you curse, throwing your head back as your break, letting him decide the pace and going with his movement. Because sometimes, in order to not fall off your horse, you need to go with his movements.

You feel his cock twitch inside you, ready for his release. And you can’t hold your pleasure back any longer. “Ivar, I-” A moan stops you from speaking as your pleasure explodes inside your, making every part of your feel light.

Ivar curses at the feeling of your legs clenching as he spills his seed into you, just like how he pictured when Hvitserk made that comment about your legs. Your fucking legs. Now that he thinks of it, he probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that comment.

Falling to his chest, panting and in a daze, your legs tremble slightly when Ivar softly strokes them with his fingers. Turning your gaze up to his face, you smirk as he glances down at you with a proud smirk to say that he was right to you not being able to break him.

But little does he know, it takes more than one ride to break a stud.

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beifongsss · 4 years ago

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playing with fire pt. 2 [sokka]

Pairing: Sokka x reader

Summary: You’re a Fire Nation citizen who saves Sokka and Katara from some angry villagers. Aang “convinces” you to come along with them, finding your knowledge of the nation useful. Not everything is smooth sailing though as both Water Tribe siblings have their doubts about you.

this will be a series :D this marks the beginning of book 2.

w.c.~5.7k

prologue. one.

.masterlist.

The four of you spent the next few days in the Northern Water Tribe to help the community rebuild and to pay your respects to Princess Yue.

Arnook had held a festival to celebrate Yue’s life, claiming that she would hate to see her tribe in such a sullen mood. Deep down you knew he was right, but that didn’t change the fact that your heart ached whenever you heard her name. A lot of your time was spent walking around alone, helping out whenever you could. You still felt immense guilt over what had occurred even if Arnook had publicly declared you to be an ally of the Northern Water Tribe.

You grunted softly as you helped an old woman clean up her shop, the fallen sign being just a bit too heavy for you due to your injuries.

“Woah! Hey, let me help you.”

The weight lessened as the sign was taken from you. You glanced up to see Sokka, holding the sign with ease.

“You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things. Not when you’re injured,” Sokka stated before turning to the old woman. She smiled at him, directing him where to put the sign and he nodded before doing ass told.

She came up to you next, patting your shoulder softly as a smile spread across her face. “You have a good boy. Don’t let him go.”

You blushed at her words, shaking your head immediately. “He’s not- We’re not...together.”

The woman’s eyes widened but before she could say anything, Sokka returned. She thanked the two of you before turning around and heading back into her shop, leaving you alone. You started to walk away, Sokka rushing to catch up to you before falling into step with you. A silence enveloped the two of you, but it wasn’t awkward. Ever since Yue...

Ever since you had lost the princess, the two of you had begun to spend more time together, much to Katara’s annoyance. It had been an accident, to be honest. Both you and Sokka had trouble sleeping after losing Yue, feeling as if you had failed both her and the Northern Water Tribe. He had joined you on one of the bridges in the city one sleepless night, the two of you enjoying each other’s company as you stared up at the moon.

The two of you eventually began to talk. There was something about standing on the empty bridge in the middle of the night that made baring all your feelings easier. It was during these midnight chats that Sokka revealed why he was so full of guilt.

He told you all about how he felt inadequate in the Southern Water Tribe; the only son of the chief who couldn’t even protect his home when Zuko arrived looking for the Avatar. He told you about how he tried to be the best warrior possible, desperate to protect his home and Katara, his sister and his tribe’s last waterbender. After a few more nights, he revealed that the reason he was so torn up about Yue wasn’t because of the brief fling he had had with her. No, it was because his failure to save the princess had brought back all those feelings of inadequateness. Sure, his heart ached slightly due to the feelings he had held for her but he was old enough to know that what he felt was mere infatuation. He had admitted that her words kept replaying in his head, wondering what was the “change” she had mentioned and telling you that he wasn’t too worried. He was already traveling with the Avatar and being hunted by the Fire Nation. At this point there was no “change” that could scare him. You pretended not to notice that he didn’t talk about the whole “being afraid to love” part of Yue’s goodbye.

In return, you opened up to him about your feelings as well. The main topic was always your guilt; the guilt you felt at being part of the nation that had ruined so many lives, guilt at running from home, guilt from knowing that no matter what you did, you would never be able to make up for the mistakes of your past. You told why meeting Yue was so important to you, telling him about how it was the first time someone from another nation had treated you normally and trusted you. And you had let her down. You hadn’t been able to stop Zhao from killing Tui. You told him a little bit more about you running away from home, telling him that you feared ever going back because you knew that you would be punished severely. You had run away from your responsibilities and that was not something to be taken lightly in your family.

The two of you made your way back to your campground silently, earning yourself a smile from Aang and a glare from Katara when you arrived. You packed up your things, knowing that it was time to leave, and prepped Appa after bowing to Master Pakku as he said his goodbyes. Within a few minutes, you were off to Omashu to find King Bumi so that he could teach Aang earthbending.

The only pit stop you made was at an Earth Kingdom outpost, where General Fong tried to convince Aang to fight the Fire Lord in the Avatar state. The issue had caused a lot of disagreement within your group, with Sokka and Aang agreeing with the General and you and Katara wanting Aang to wait until he had mastered all four elements.

“I told the general I’d help him,” Aang said, entering the room where you were all staying. “By going into the Avatar State.”

“Aang, no!” Katara exclaimed, standing up. “This is not the right way!”

“Why not?” Sokka asked, placing his arms behind his head while he laid on the bed. “Remember when he took out the Fire Navy? He was incredible!”

“There's a right way to do this,” Katara said sharply, glaring at her brother. “Practice, study, and discipline!”

“Or just glow it up and stop that Fire Lord!”

“(Y/N), what do you think?” Aang asked, turning to face you with a lost expression. You stared at him wide-eyed, not knowing what to say. Aang noticed and walked up to you. “You’re a part of our group now, and I want to hear your opinion.”

The Water Tribe siblings stopped their bickering as they turned to face you as well. Sokka had a smug smile on his face, coming up and wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you kept your gaze on Aang. Katara stood with her arms crossed, glaring at you as she waited to hear your response.

“Um, well,” you stuttered for a bit before taking a deep breath. “Aang, I agree with Katara.”

Immediately, Sokka’s arm dropped from around you and he stared at you with betrayal. Katara’s jaw dropped before she gave you a tiny smile, glad that someone was taking her side. Aang simply looked at you curiously before motioning for you to continue.

“Aang, there’s a reason the Avatar has to master all four elements,“ you said, avoiding Sokka’s gaze. “You can’t rely on the Avatar State because what if something goes wrong? I want the Fire Lord defeated as much as you do but the correct way to do it is by mastering the rest of the elements. Besides, you yourself said that you don’t know how to control the Avatar State. Don’t do something just because some bossy old general wants you to.”

“People are getting hurt or dying because of this war,” Aang said. “And it’s all my fault. You don’t understand.”

It was silent for a moment before you placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to catch his gaze. “Aang, people have been dying long before you were alive and they will continue to die long after you’re gone. This war is not your fault. You have a choice about how to confront the Fire Lord and whether or not you choose to use the Avatar State, just know that I will be there to support you, okay?”

Aang stayed silent for a few seconds before nodding and leaving the room. Katara followed after him, pausing for a few seconds to turn around and look at you. “Thanks.”

You stared after her in shock. Sure, she had said one word but in your eyes that was much better than all the glares you had been receiving from her.

“What was that?” Sokka asked once you were alone, still gaping at you.

“What was what?” you asked, walking to your bed.

“I thought you were going to have my back, not my sister’s,” Sokka proclaimed, following you.

“Sokka,” you sighed, turning to face the boy. “We both know that the Avatar State is a large gamble. What if he can’t access it when he confronts Ozai? He’s the Avatar for a reason. He’ll learn how to master all four elements and he will succeed.”

“You’re just trying to delay us,” Sokka said. “You don’t want to see the Fire Nation fall.”

Your eyes widened before they narrowed dangerously, your glare making the Water Tribe boy shift in discomfort. You stepped forwards, poking a finger into his chest harshly. “I don’t need any of this from you. I thought we were friends Sokka. I’m sorry for thinking about Aang’s well-being. Did you know that he has nightmares about being in the Avatar State?”

This time it was Sokka’s eyes that widened at your words. He knew that Aang hadn’t been sleeping well but he had no idea what his nightmares were about. He winced slightly as he remembered his earlier words, stuttering as he tried to apologize.

“Next time,” you began, effectively shutting the boy up. “Worry less about where my loyalties lie and worry more about your friend.”

You stormed out before he could say another word, leaving him to sigh deeply and throw himself on to his bed as he thought about how to apologize.

Katara had yelled at him when he told her what he had said, not that she’d ever admit to defending someone from the Fire Nation.

A few days had passed since you had left the outpost. Much to yours and Katara’s relief, Aang had declined the general’s suggestion after his tactics to activate the Avatar State had gotten a little too aggressive.

You hadn’t spoken to Sokka since the day of your argument, even though he had tried to corner you multiple times. You weren’t angry with him anymore, just upset over what he had said. Aang and Katara had noticed the distance between the two of you, especially when you began speaking to Momo. The two of you always spent your free time together. As nonbenders, you often had nothing to do while Aang and Katara trained which resulted in a lot of quality time with each other.

Currently, all of you were relaxing in a lake surrounded by tall cliffs. Aang and Katara were practicing their waterbending while Sokka floated on a large leaf, Momo curled up on his stomach. Appa was in the water as well, floating on his back as you sunbathed on his stomach.

You tuned out Sokka’s nagging as you enjoyed the warmth, occasionally getting splashed when Aang and Katara sparred.

“Da, da, da. Don't fall in love with the traveling girl. She'll leave you broke and brokenhearted. Hey, river people!”

You sat up when you heard a new voice, panicking slightly when Appa began to roll over onto his feet.

“Appa, wait!” you cried, trying to scramble off the sky bison. “Don’t t-”

Your words were cut off as Appa disregarded your words, rolling over completely and dropping you into the water. You fell onto Sokka’s legs, causing him to tumble into the water as well. Momo screeched in panic as he managed to get away.

Sokka yanked you out of the water, making sure you were okay before guiding you over to Katara and Aang. He looked at the newcomers suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“I'm Chong and this is my wife, Lily,” the man with the lute-like instrument said. “We're nomads, happy to go wherever the wind takes us!”

You slinked away, eager to change into dry clothing while everyone else was distracted. When you got back to the group, Aang patted the space next to him and smiled widely. You sunk into Appa’s soft fur, smiling as Aang excitedly put on the flower crown they had made for him. Lily sat next to you soon after, asking if she could place flowers in your hair. You nodded softly, allowing the woman to decorate your hair as she wished. When she was done, she did the same thing to Katara, weaving flowers into her dark strands as she braided it.

“Hey, Sokka, you should hear some of these stories. These guys have been everywhere!” Aang said happily as Sokka approached.

“Well not everywhere, Little Arrowhead,” Chong said as he stopped playing his lute. “But where we haven't been, we've heard about through stories and songs.”

“They said they'll take us to see a giant night crawler!” Aang exclaimed.

“On the way, there's a waterfall that creates a never-ending rainbow!” another nomad, Moku, said dreamily.

“Look, I hate to be the wet blanket here, but since Katara is busy,” Sokka said shortly, shooting a glare at his sister as she shot one back. “I guess it's up to me. We need to get to Omashu. No sidetracks, no worms and definitely no rainbows.”

“Wow, sounds like someone has a case of destination fever. You're worried too much about where you're going,” Chong said easily.

“You got to focus less on the ‘where’ and more on the ‘going’,” Lily added, accidentally tugging Katara’s hair as she gestured with her hands.

“Yeah, Sokka!” Aang said, leaning back on Appa. “Relax for a bit. Look at this flower crown they made me! And look at (Y/N)’s hair! Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You smiled at the Air Nomad softly, being met with a large grin. Sokka, on the other hand, sputtered for a moment as he tried to hide his blush and avoid looking at you.

“O. Ma. Shu!” Sokka finally enunciated, cheeks still blazing and keeping his stern gaze on Aang.

“Sokka’s right,” you finally said, patting Aang’s head and missing the grateful look Sokka shot at you. “We need to find King Bumi, so Aang can learn earthbending somewhere safe.”

“Sounds like you’re heading to Omashu,” Chong stated, causing Sokka to facepalm in frustration. You held back a giggle at the situation. “There's an old story about a secret pass right through the mountains.’

“Is this real or a legend?” Katara asked skeptically.

“Oh, it's a real legend. And it's as old as earthbending itself.” Chong stated before strumming his lute. “Two lovers, forbidden from one another, the war divides their people and the mountain divides them apart! Built a path to be together! Yeah, I forget the next couple of lines, but then it goes ... Secret tunnel! Secret tunnel! Through the mountains, secret, secret, secret, secret tunnel! Yeah!”

You all looked at each other uncertainly before Sokka crossed his arms and turned to Chong. “I think we'll just stick with flying. We've dealt with the Fire Nation before. We'll be fine.”

“Yeah, thanks for the help, but Appa hates going underground,” Aang added, flashing a smile. “And we need to do whatever makes Appa most comfortable.”

The four of you bid the nomads goodbye and took off... only to return when you ran into an army of Fire Nation soldiers.

“Secret lovers cave,” Sokka muttered as you rejoined the nomads, annoyance clear on his face. “Let’s go.”

Aang was way too confident for someone who was trapped in an underground labyrinth. After you had reached the tunnels, the Fire Nation had caught up to your group and blown up the entrance, effectively shutting you all in. On the bright side, Chong had remembered the rest of the song.

After taking inventory of all your supplies, Sokka had suggested making a map to keep track of your steps. You had immediately agreed, stating that it was a smart choice. Everyone else had agreed as well, not having any better ideas. After the tenth dead end, however, you began to regret letting Sokka take the lead.

“Sokka, this is the tenth dead end you've led us to!” Katara cried exasperatedly. You nodded along with her statement, feeling a bit frustrated.

“This doesn't make sense. We already came through this way,” Sokka said, looking at the map in confusion. You peered over his shoulder to get a better look and he angled the parchment towards you. He looked at you before swallowing and looking away hurriedly. You were closer than he had thought you were.

“He’s right,” you chimed. “According to this, we’ve been through here already.”

“You don’t need a map,” Chong said as he breezed past. “We just need love. The little guy knows it.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn't mind a map also,” Aang said meekly.

“There's something strange here. There's only one explanation,” Sokka said, turning to face the group. “The tunnels are changing!”

You opened your mouth to tell him off, not getting the chance to do so as the tunnel began to shake.

“The tunnels, they're a-changin',” Chong said frantically as you all began to get closer together. “It must be the curse! I knew we shouldn't have come down here!”

“Right, if only we listened to you,” Sokka said sarcastically. You swatted his arm.

“Everyone be quiet,” Katara yelled suddenly. “Listen.”

Momo settled onto your shoulder, chittering softly as he gripped your hair. You stood next to Sokka, the two of you staring into the dark tunnel. You tensed when you heard a growl coming from the darkness, Momo flying away and landing on Appa who was farther away. Sokka grabbed your wrist and pulled you behind him, raising the torch to get a better look. Everyone panicked when something flew out from the tunnel. You stayed still, Sokka’s hand still on your wrist as everyone else began to run around.

“It’s a giant flying thing with teeth!” Chong yelled, rushing past you.

“No!” Moku replied, ducking onto the ground. “It’s a wolfbat!”

The wolfbat flew around, occasionally diving down towards the group. When it dove towards you, Sokka panicked and swung the torch at the creature. The sudden movement caused cinders from the torch to land on Appa, who began to panic and run around.

“Watch out!” you cried, tackling Katara as a chunk of earth fell where she was standing.

“Hey! What-” her words died down as she saw the chunk of earth, her face losing color as she realized what had happened. “Oh, thanks.”

You nodded in return before running off, pushing Lily out of harm’s way as well. Appa was still running around and he managed to hit the ceiling hard enough to make the tunnel collapse completely.

“(Y/N)! Watch out!” Aang cried. You looked up to see the ceiling begin to fall, panic taking over and rooting you to the spot. Aang watched in horror, unable to airbend you out of the way as the tunnel began to collapse around him as well.

A strangled gasp left your throat as someone threw you to the side before landing on top of you. The tunnel completely collapsed afterwards, leaving the two of you separated from the rest of the group.

“Are you okay?” Sokka asked roughly, scrambling to his feet before helping you up. You nodded wordlessly, rubbing at your shoulder before looking around. Sokka walked over to the torch he had dropped when saving you, picking it up before turning and walking to the pile of rocks. You watched silently as he tried to dig his way out of there, knowing that there was no way the two of you were going to rejoin the group without an earthbender. Or a badgermole you thought to yourself.

“Sokka, stop,” you whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. He tensed up under your touch, causing you to immediately retract your hand. You turned around, facing the dark tunnel behind you. Seeing no other option, you began to walk forwards, hoping that the tunnel would lead you somewhere.

“What are you doing?” Sokka asked, grabbing your hand and pulling you back. “We have to get back to the others.”

You pulled your hand away from him, shooting him a lazy glare. “Look, unless Aang magically happens to master earthbending in the next five minutes, we’re trapped. Our best choice right now is to continue walking.”

Sokka grumbled under his breath before walking away, lighting the path with the torch. The two of you walked in tense silence for a few minutes, both of you too awkward to start a conversation.

“(Y/N)-”

“Sokka-”

The two of you spoke at the same time, flushing slightly when you met each other’s eyes before chuckling softly.

“(Y/N) I wanted to apologize for what I said at the outpost,” Sokka said, coming to a stop in front of you. “I know you’re angry but I wanted you to know that you were right. I wasn’t concerned about Aang’s well-being even though I should’ve been. It was wrong of me to not listen to you or Katara because you had a point; Aang still has time to master the remaining three elements and he’ll be able to do it. I just- it just sucks that we’re caught in a war, y’know? I want it to end before I lose anyone else I love. I’m sorry.”

“Sokka, I wasn’t angry at you,” you whispered, not meeting his eyes.

“You weren’t?”

“Ok... I was,” you admitted, glancing at him. “But I got over it pretty quickly. I was just really upset because you questioned my loyalty. I know that the Fire Nation can be evil. They’ve done so many things to the other nations but they’ve also ruined things within their own nation. I’m from the capital city, Sokka. There’s a reason I ran and it’s because things just kept getting worse. Yes, I’m Fire Nation, but that doesn’t mean that I’m the enemy. I accept your apology, you dork. Now, we should probably keep walking before that torch burns out.”

Sokka gave you a sheepish smile before turning around and moving forwards. You stayed close to him hoping that nothing else would crawl out of the tunnels.

“(Y/N), can I ask you something?” Sokka asked, breaking the silence once again. You nodded silently, motioning for him to continue.

“This has been bugging me since the North Pole, but I didn’t want to bring it up so soon after-” Sokka paused for a second, not wanting to mention Yue. “Um, why did Zuko’s uncle recognize you? And why did he tell Zhao he had to listen to you? And most importantly, how do you know Zuko?”

You flinched slightly. You knew he was going to bring that up, it had only been a matter of time. Sighing, you looked at him. “The truth?”

“The truth,” Sokka replied, nodding his head firmly.

“The truth is that I was trained to be a Fire Nation soldier from the day I was old enough to hold a sword,” you said quietly. “My father is a well-known admiral, Ozai’s right-hand man. When I showed an interest in combat, Ozai decided to do us a favor and let me train with the best of the best. I was good with a bow and arrow but I really stood out with sword fighting. When I was old enough, I joined the army.”

“That still doesn’t explain the whole Zhao situation,” Sokka stated softly.

“When I was fifteen, I stumbled upon some battle plans of my dad,” you continued. “They contained a lot of flaws, even if he couldn’t see them. I fixed them for him and when Ozai found out, he had me join a group of high-ranking officers to plan invasions. Zhao was one of them. I don’t know why I was so good at planning invasions, but whenever Zhao and I disagreed, he would go to Ozai. The Fire Lord would always agree with me, which pissed Zhao off to no end.”

Sokka chuckled at your words. “So that’s why? Zhao had to listen to you because you were ‘Fire Lord approved’?”

“I guess so, yeah,” you replied, chuckling along with him.

“What about Zuko?” Sokka asked. “How do you know him?”

“I already told you, Sokka,” you replied. “I trained with the best of the best. That meant training in the palace. Zuko was my sparring partner growing up.”

Sokka’s jaw dropped. “You had to spend time with the angry prince?!”

“He wasn’t so bad growing up,” you said, laughing lightly. “We were pretty good friends up until I left.”

“Why’d you leave?” Sokka asked suddenly. You continued to walk in silence for a few seconds, causing Sokka to think he had made a mistake by asking. The two of you reached a cavern, the path you were on separating into two tunnels. You looked at each other uncertainly before glancing at both tunnels. You squinted at the tunnel on the right, seeing a faint glow coming from it.

“Let’s go this way,” you said, nudging Sokka. He looked at you and then at both tunnels before sighing and nodding. He was just about to apologize for his question when you spoke up.

“I left because of my father,” you admitted quietly. Sokka stayed silent, keeping his eyes forward as he allowed you to speak. “He once took me with him when he was leading an invasion. He said that I had to experience battle if I was ever going to take his place. It- It was awful, Sokka.”

Sokka glanced at you, seeing the downcast expression on your face. You glanced at him for a second before continuing. “It was a small Earth Kingdom town. The soldiers were barely older than I was. They had surrendered, the Fire Nation had won. But they said that their surrender was dishonorable and they slaughtered them anyway. I couldn’t stay there, not when I knew that was what my nation was doing. So I ran. I settled into the town you found me in and stayed there for a few months. And now I’m here. Stuck in a cave with you.”

Sokka smiled slightly. “It could be worse, you could be stuck with Chong and his group.”

You laughed at his words and bumped him with your shoulder. “I guess you’re right. You’re not the worst person to be stuck in a cave with.”

Sokka’s cheeks burned at your words and he distracted himself by looking at the torch, which was running dangerously low. You followed his line of sight, biting the inside of your cheek as the torch began to dwindle down to nothing. A few minutes later, it went out, a curl of smoke rising up into the air.

“Now would be a really good time for you to say you’re a firebender,” Sokka jested, stopping to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. You chuckled weakly, bumping into him by accident.

“Spirits! I’m so sorry,” you whispered, grabbing onto Sokka’s arm. You swallowed harshly before sliding your hand down his arm, reaching his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

“I-It’s okay,” Sokka said. He was glad it was dark in the tunnel, that way you wouldn’t see his blush. You did, however, feel him stiffen up.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, slipping your hand out of his. “It’s silly but I’m a little scared of the dark and the torch went out so suddenly and-”

“It’s alright,” Sokka whispered, tugging your hand back to his. “I’m right here okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you. The two of you kept walking hand in hand, trying to feel your way through the tunnel. You could feel your fear intensifying, gripping Sokka’s hand more tightly as you moved forward.

“Did I ever tell you how we met Aang?” Sokka asked suddenly. He squeezed your hand softly, waiting for you to answer.

“N-No,” you replied.

“Well it happened because I made Katara angry,” Sokka said, laughing breathlessly. He could feel you loosening up and smiled softly, glad that he was managing to distract you. “We were out fishing and we got caught in the current. Our canoe got destroyed and we were stranded on a small iceberg. I made some dumb comment about her causing us to get stranded and Katara got angry, telling me that I was rude and sexist. Her waterbending got out of control and she shattered this huge iceberg that was floating behind her. Inside of it was Aang and Appa.”

You smiled at his voice. He was pretty good at storytelling. He continued to keep you distracted as you walked through the tunnel, telling you stories about his childhood in the South Pole and talking about his mother and father before telling you about all the adventures the Gaang had had before you joined. He was in the middle of telling you about their adventures at the Northern Air Temple when you reached another cavern. The words died in Sokka’s throat as you looked around, the ceiling of the cavern covered in various glowing crystals.

“Wow,” you breathed, looking around in amazement.

“What are these?” Sokka asked.

“These are our way out,” you said in realization. Sokka looked at you confused. “This is how the two lovers found their way through the tunnels! By letting the crystals guide them!”

Sokka’s eyes widened in realization before smiling and wrapping you up in a hug. “We’re finally going to get out of here!”

You laughed as he twirled you around before putting you down.

“The two lovers put their trust in their love and by doing so they were able to find their way through the tunnels by using the crystals as guides,” you said. You looked up at Sokka giving him a teasing look. “I guess Chong was right. Love does lead the way.”

Sokka looked at you as you laughed at your words, thinking about all the time he had spent with you over the past few weeks. Your words rang in his head as he thought about just how well he had gotten to know you. He knew about your past, about your qualms with the way the Fire Nation operated. He knew about your little quirks, especially after all the time spent together while Aang and Katara trained. He thought about how you sat and listened to him, genuinely caring about what he had to say and always knowing what to say in response.

All of a sudden, the fact that the two of you had gotten trapped in the Cave of Two Lovers together was no coincidence.

“Sokka?” you asked quietly, noticing that the boy had suddenly gone quiet. “Sokka, are you okay?”

Sokka nodded, his eyes searching your face for a few seconds before he leaned down. Your eyes fluttered shut as his face neared yours, his arms still wrapped around you from the hug you had shared earlier. You felt yourself melt into his touch, your heart speeding up when you felt his lips brush over yours. You were just about to lean up and fully press your lips to his when the cavern began to rumble.The two of you quickly separated, eyes widening when the cavern walls fell to reveal a large animal.

“Quick! Get behind me!” Sokka yelled, trying to shield you from the flying rock. You peered over his shoulder, eyes widening when you saw the badgermole.You ducked under Sokka’s arm, walking up to the giant creature. Sokka’s eyes widened at your actions. “(Y/N)! What are you doing?”

“This is a badgermole, Sokka,” you explained, walking up to the animal. You paused for a moment, not knowing what to do. You hesitantly extended a hand, giggling when the badgermoles pressed its snout into it. “It’s our ticket out of here.”

Sokka gaped at you as you climbed onto the badgermole, only turning to wave him over. He quickly got on behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to steady himself. You ignored the heavy blush on your cheeks as you stroked the badgermole’s back.

“Hey, Mister Badgermole?” you asked, ignoring Sokka’s bewildered gaze. “We’re kind of stuck in here. Do you think you could help us get back to our friends?”

“Really?” Sokka asked, giving you an amused look. You shrugged, a bashful look on your face. All of a sudden, the badgermole began to move and you held on tightly. Within a few minutes, you were surrounded by bright light.

“(Y/N)! Sokka! You guys got out.”

You looked down, seeing Aang, Katara, and the nomads. You gave them a cheesy grin, sliding off of the badgermole. “Sure did! Sokka and I got out by letting love lead the way.”

“Really?” Aang asked excitedly.

You and Sokka glanced at each other briefly, both of you looking away with rosy cheeks before you replied. “The badgermole was a huge help too.”

Katara looked at the two of you suspiciously as you approached them. You went over to pet Appa and Momo as Aang went to say goodbye to the nomads. When she was sure you weren’t paying attention, she turned to her brother. “So, what actually happened in there?”

Sokka’s eyes widened and he floundered for a few seconds before opening his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by Chong.

“Nobody react to what I'm about to tell you,” the nomad said before pointing at Aang. “I think that kid might be the Avatar!”

You looked over at Sokka just in time to see him facepalm, causing you to giggle quietly. Sokka shot you a halfhearted glare before smiling softly at your laugh.

All he could think about was what had happened in the cavern.

taglist!

atla: @musicalkeys, @mywigglybaby, @bubblebars, @iguessthefloorislava, @dekahg, @boxofteenageideas, @bottledcostcowater, @butterflycore, @coldlilheart, @the-firebender-girl, @ajediherowitchrunner, @lammello, @astroninaaa, @samsmultifandomblogs, @sadskater25, @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak, @eternallyvenus

pwf: @ilovespideyyy, @binaryssunsets, @a----rag, @existing-but-nonexistent, @milk-n-cheese, @itsthatsadbitch, @nin-tendou, @honey-ruel, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @teenbiology, @davnwillcome

#sokka x reader #atla sokka x reader #sokka #atla sokka #avatar #avatar: tla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar x reader #aang #katara #toph #toph beifong #zuko #prince zuko #sokka imagine #atla #atla x reader #avatar imagine

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eunoiastarz · 3 years ago

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more adhd balthazar propaganda requested by my beloved @sunriseat9am <3

adhd symptoms I noticed throughout his scenes:

rejection sensitive dysphoria:

I’m going to use 6x21 as my crutch for this because look at him

also in 6x03 when cas chooses the winchesters over him

hyper sensitivity:

almost every scene we’re faced with balthazars walls of an ‘I don’t care’ attitude which I think is just masking for his hyper sensitivity. I mean the 6x21 forest scene says it all, for a minute or two he stops masking and elevates his voice while using rapid hand gestures to vent his frustrations. I can also use 6x03 again as an example with how he begins pacing during the rougher parts of the conversation in order to hide his face from cas. and again, the way he blankly stands there while cas raises his voice, his own tone getting much softer.

mood swings:

balthazar to change frequently through emotions. he goes quickly from anger in the 6x03 holy fire scene to being utterly defeated within a few words. the 6x21 forest scene where he goes from frustrated to calm in a matter of seconds, and the 6x21 confrontation scene with sam and dean he goes from annoyed to panicked before composing his false attitude enough to fly off. just watch and you’ll see how he never keeps a consistent emotion during scene.

hyper activity/ excessive activity/ fidgeting:

balthazar is never not moving and when he isn’t it’s only ever for a few seconds. we also know he goes out to parties a lot and constantly surrounds himself with any chaotic activity he can find. this isn’t even mentioning the 6x15 scene where he’s talking to himself while rushing around bobby’s house, completely ignoring anyone else.

irritability/ low frustration tolerance:

truly this could just be because he finds sam and dean extensively annoying as he should, but I’m clocking him. he just hates them so much without a concrete reason. he doesn’t hate cas for trapping him in holy fire, but then again sam and dean have ruined a lot for him.

impulsivity/ lack of self restraint:

he doesn’t example many impulsive decisions, the only instance I can find is him impulse to save cas in 6x03 despite what it will cost him, but I think he’s impulsive in the way he speaks. he says a lot of out of pocket things depending on how who he’s talking to is making him feeling in the moment. adding on ‘honey’ after challenging raphael just because he knows cas will save him and telling dean he considered ‘ripping out his sticky bits’ just because they were annoying him was out of impulsive in my opinion.

dismissive behaviors:

watching through his scenes I noticed how dismissive he is of his own feelings and situations he doesn’t want to be happening. he fidgets more in these scenes and puts up and entirely different personality while either laughing it off or trying to change the topic. when he starts getting dismissive it’s also when his mood does a whole 180 within seconds. the entirety of his opening 6x03 scene is what I’m using as proof.

always relating things back to his interests:

I think his interest in movies is pretty obvious (titanic, the godfather, etc) so when he explained the current situation to sam and dean in 6x15 by using the movie the godfather, unsinking the titanic after watching the movie was his plan he was finding ways to relate through what he knew.

poor planning:

to me balthazar never really fully thought through everything he did, kind of like I said early he acts on impulse at times; in 6x03 when he damaged raphaels vessel to save cas, betraying cas and working with the winchesters, telling sam to kill bobby. when castiel even comments that he came back in 6x03 looking for an explanation of why, balthazar gives some off handed comment on the spot of how he’ll have more time to flee. I don’t think he ever saw through to what would happen as a result of these things all he thought in the moment was what he really cared about.

stimming:

stimming isn’t something he does much in canon, but I’m counting the times when he gets frustrated and starts pacing/ talking with his hands as him stimming.

persistent repetition of words or actions:

once again this isn’t something he does much but I noticed how he always holds his glasses the same exact way and drinks them whenever gauging what exactly he wants to say next. he also repeats words directly or summarizing things over and over to get his point across.

Now for the fun hc stuff!!:

(some or these are repeated from my hcs post and some are from my girlfriend who has never watched the show at all but is the resident adhd haver of our household so <3)

when he was younger sitting around in intelligence was very boring so he learned how to do tricks with his blade. it became a way of stimming to him so he could focus on whatever he was being taught. no one in intelligence appreciated it though. cas actually gets his spinny blade thing from him.

his character description in script says that he’s slightly manic (an attractive charmer who appears slightly manic on the surface but carries a great sadness) so I think that when he finally left heaven it was on impulse during a manic episode. he knew he had to leave, but I don’t think without that adrenaline he could ever bring himself to leave his garrison.

most definitely canon and confirmed that he has sensory issues and the reason he wears a v-neck all the time is because if he wears a collar any higher he feels like he’s being chocked.

old love songs are always playing throughout his house because it’s subconsciously helps him focus and he finds the quiet off putting.

his jacket? There is the part of the end of the sleeve thats really smooth because of how often he rubs it when he is panicked or just unsure of himself (a personal favorite from gf <3)

whenever him and cas are talking he’ll stim by messing with the belt of his trenchcoat.

whenever he can’t remember something he looks around the room and snaps his fingers while mumbling under his breath trying to figure out what he’s supposed to remember.

flashback to my post that said quote “adhd balthazar propaganda flappy hands” because so true past me

he wears a lot of jewlery so I like to think he stim with it <3 he messes up and fixes his watch over and over again. during long conversations he’s tugging his rings on and off to make sure he focuses on what’s being said.

going back to the sensory issues he can pet a cat normally but never backwards because he hates how it feels yes I’m right.

he sways all he time without noticing, especially when sitting. he sits cross legged only. (this one from my gf <3)

he’s overexcitable!! he’s loud and has no volume control!!! he just wants to have fun with things!!

he hyperfixated in cas for a bit and would tell him everything. (from my gf and no I don’t know how he never watched the show yet was on the nose with this one. they’re just a genius i guess)

I’ve noted before that I think he only likes wine so I think he stims sometimes by twirling his wine glass.

his first ever hyperfixation was frogs <3

he’s bored very easily with people and places hence why he flys all over the world.

he repeats his own stories a lot with the same amount of excitement which always bothered other angels outside of his garrison. it’s one of the reasons he learned to mask better.

despite being perfectly fine in loud crowded areas he gets easily overstimulated in high stress (mental) situations.

he hyperfixated on movies after being exposed to them on earth. it’s how he learned about modern human culture and finds it the easiest way to relate/ communicate with them.

he’s the most sociable out of the garrison but somehow had the least friends.

he doesn’t understand other people’s emotions at all. he can’t tell how people feel about him in anyway. sam and dean hate him but they still call him for help. he thinks he’s cas’ best friend but cas has never chose him once. he tries to act like it doesn’t bother him and pretends to be self centered to avoid having to ask the question. anna used to be the one to help him with things like this since she always had a good grasp on communication, but obviously she isn’t around anymore.

he’s a perfectionist, to him all things are about presentation. I’m using his introduction and the raphael confrontation scene as my proof.

balthazars always either humming or singing under his breath which everyone but his garrison finds annoying. they used to, but they’ve just become well adapted to his quirks.

he’s repressed his personality a lot. being loud and excitable in heaven was highly frowned upon, so in order to survive he tries to mask as much as possible

#I’m sorry for this post #do you guys think I’m still fun at parties 🙏🙏#/j #dante ilysm muah <3 #->#spn angels #balthazar #meta

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abbysfrenchbraid · 4 years ago

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Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 9

masterlist

in this chapter, the reader takes up combat training with Eivor and goes on a walk with Valka. I hope you all have some wonderful days with your loved ones!

CW for alcohol consumption, choking/assault imagery, nudity

Inspo pic by @classicnovaproductions

Heather

The next few days were filled with training, tasks, and getting to know people. You got up early every morning and either joined Valka for a few hours of learning about healing and plants, sometimes at her hut, sometimes on walks through the forest, or you helped Sfáva in the kitchen, preparing food for the day or running errands for her. Around noon you ate with your old friends and in the afternoon you had taken up training with Eivor.

Eivor’s wound was healing well, but she was not yet allowed to train heavily so she was all the happier to have you to instruct and guide.

You had been working with a short sword, first wooden, then metal, for a few afternoons now and while it was still extremely hard to swing, you started seeing a smoothness in your movements. When you stepped into the training area with the straw dummies and wooden targets, the sun already hung low on the horizon and tiny snowflakes were fluttering from a singular cloud in the sky. The days were at their shortest now, Winter solstice was only two nights away.

“There you are!” You turned to see Eivor, dressed in thick leather and furs, with two axes in her hands. She looked lovely, her lashes and hair embezzled by ice crystals and her breath moving through the air like clouds in strong wind. She gave you the smaller axe and fastened the other one to her belt.

“I want to introduce you to another weapon today. I have a feeling you’ll be good with the axe.”

You weighed it in your hand. It was wooden with a dark metal blade; thin red leather strips were wrapped and fastened around the bottom for better grip.

“How do I wield it?” You tried a few slow strokes through the air. Eivor stepped behind you, closing her arms around you as she grabbed the axe and your hands with it, encasing your fingers in her soft, warm palms. Her mouth was right next to your ear and when she spoke, her breath tickled your skin.

“You hold it with a firm grip, but make sure your wrists stay loose. Don't stiffen your arms, keep them moving and natural. Engage your core while you swing so the weight of the weapon doesn’t pull your body with it.” She lifted your hands with the axe to your top right and made a slow, perfectly diagonal cut to your bottom left.

“Never swing straight down unless you’re absolutely positive you will hit something. Otherwise, you might hit yourself. You can swing upwards, too.” She guided your hands from left to right with a slightly upward motion. “Never straight, though.”

She let go of you and stepped around you.

“If you need more momentum, you can turn and swing the axe just at chest level, drag it up or down into your target.” She took your hands and twirled you around as if you were dancing, then she grabbed them tightly and executed a quick stroke through the air.

“It is also important that you practice to stop this motion if you miss. You need strong arms and again, an engaged core. Try it.”

She took a few steps back and you assumed your fighting stance and tried a few cuts through the air. Eivor was right, you needed strength to move the axe without flinging your whole body around and you also needed the strength to stop its flight. She was watching you with crossed arms, biting her lip as she closely observed your every move. After a while, she nodded.

“Try it on the straw figure. I’ll show you a combination.” She took the heavy axe from her belt and stood in front of the straw man. Suddenly she became a whirlwind, hacking at the figure three, four times and sending straw flying everywhere. Then she repeated the combination slowly, showing you a diagonal cut from the top left to bottom right, a horizontal blow from the right, a counter-clockwise turn into a full-force blow to the neck from the right, and at last a skull-splitting hit from the top down.

You could only imagine the terror and fright it had to cause in her enemies to see her on the battlefield. She was glorious, turning to you with a glow in her eyes.

“Now you.”

You stood in front of the figure and repeated her example slowly at first, trying to remember the right order and direction. She nodded encouragingly and seemed satisfied with your precision. You dared to work faster and started continuously repeating the combination, over and over again, harder and faster every time until your lungs and shoulders were on fire and sweat was running down your temples. Eivor was cheering for you with her booming voice, yelling at you to go another round and to hit harder, to keep your core tight and your wrists loose.

When you turned to her, out of breath and happy with your new weapon, she looked incredibly proud, smiling at you and stepping forward to grab your shoulders.

“I knew this was the right weapon for you. We shall continue training with others, but I think it wise to focus on the axe from now on. You will be a force to be reckoned with.”

You continued training until the sun was long gone, fighting the straw figures in the light of several torches, learning new moves and more difficult combinations from your drengr, and giving it your all until you had absolutely no strength left in a single fiber of your body. Eivor had made you run laps and fight every figure in the course, climb obstacles, and defend yourself from a figure behind you. In the end, all you could do was lay down on a snowed up ball of straw and try to regain control of your breath.

Even though Eivor’s training was rigorous and she always managed to completely drain you, you felt the happiest after working with her every day, proud of your accomplishments and hard work and delighted at spending this much time with the warrior. She was also in high spirits every time, amazed at your quick learning progress and your willingness to push yourself until the very end.

She let herself fall down on the straw next to you. It had stopped snowing and the last small cloud was slowly making way for a clear sky filled with thousands of stars.

“You did well today.” Eivor’s voice was smooth as silk, and she sounded very content.

“You’re a great teacher. It’s my pleasure,” you replied.”I never thought I’d be one for fighting.”

You thought back to the kitchen on the day you had first met Eivor. William had hit you so hard you had been thrown back into the shelves and almost died later when the wound had festered. What would happen if he tried this now? Would you be able to defend yourself, even without a weapon?

A meow tore you from your thoughts. Birna had come to pick you up for supper. Eivor greeted the cat with great enthusiasm and picked her up, cradling her in her arms.

“Are you hungry, my little princess? We shall find you something to eat.”

The cat answered with a satisfied grunt. You made your way to the longhouse together, all of your stomachs growling with hunger after the long day. Eivor gave you Birna and joined Sigurd at his table while you visited Sfáva at the hearth. She was delighted to see Birna and gave her some leftover ham right away.

“You hungry?” She answered your surprised expression with her almost toothless smile. “I learn English now. Eda.”

The old woman had only spoken Norwegian so far, making it hard for you to communicate. Apparently, Eda had started spending time with her and teaching her a few words of your language. Even though Sfáva spoke with a thick accent, it was wonderful to suddenly understand her. Following an impulse, you stretched out your arms in joy and she immediately hugged you tight, her smell of herbs and wool filling your nose. What a wonderful woman.

“Well, may I have some supper?” you asked, stepping back and smiling at her. She grabbed a bowl right away, filling it with hot stew and sausages.

“You always hungry now. You fight.” She gave you two additional slices of dark rye bread and you had to laugh. She was right. Ever since you had taken up training with Eivor, you ate twice as much as before. A voice next to you joined the conversation.

“Well, the best fighters deserve the best food.” Norvid was standing next to you, grinning widely. “I saw you training the last couple of days. You are making great progress.”

You lowered your head as a gesture of gratitude and thanked him for his kind words. It really did mean a lot to be noticed by the other warriors.

“Did I hear that right? You chose the axe as your primary weapon?”

You were surprised he knew.

“Word travels fast here,” you answered him, “but yes, I think the axe calls to me more than other weapons. We’ll see how much I call to the axe in the days to come.”

As you excused yourself and wished him a nice evening, you felt someone’s eyes on you and as you looked up, you could see Eivor watching your interaction with a sour expression on her face. When she caught your gaze, she turned to Sigurd and continued talking to him.

You made your way to Lewin, Aelfric, and Hal and joined them for your meal. They had also heard about your endeavors on the training grounds and were happy for you. They all knew how much you had had to take back in Williamsburg and how good it felt to become stronger and more confident now.

“Has anyone seen Eda?” Hal asked casually while he wiped his bowl with a last piece of bread.

No one had met her since she had left her cell and you were all desperate to know where she was and how she was doing. Maybe you could ask Randvi later. But you had been right in the assumption that she apparently just wanted some time to settle in and recover.

You left the longhouse early instead of staying to drink and talk. You were sweaty and dirty and in desperate need of a bath. Valka had offered you to use hers whenever you wanted, you just needed to fill it yourself. You knew she was still in the longhouse and you were glad to have some time to yourself, quickly grabbing a fresh tunic and a large cloth from yours and Eivor’s hut.

Valka’s cottage was only dimly lit by a few candles, but you did not light any more. You poured two buckets of water from outside into the kettle over the fire, then you went out a few more times and brought in as much snow as you could carry in your woolen shawl, letting it melt into the hot water. When it was warm enough, you filled it into the wooden bathtub and added some mint, sage, and lemon balm into it to help with your sore muscles.

You left all your clothes on a pile next to Valka’s bed and stepped into the steaming water. Slowly sinking down into the bath, you took deep breaths to adjust to the heat and inhale the wonderful scents rising from the water. The candles were flickering and painting landscapes and figures on the wooden walls, the steam was dancing through the air and your muscles were finally starting to relax.

After a while, you let yourself sink underwater, holding your breath as the water finally encased your head and your soft hair caressed your neck and shoulders. As you emerged, you began to rub off the dirt and sweat from your face and neck. A quiet noise at the entrance caught your attention.

Eivor was standing in the door, frozen and bright red, her hand still on the handle. You could see her heart drop when your eyes met.

“Forgive me Y/N, I didn’t mean to -” She rubbed over her eyes and stared at the floor. “Valka said I could take a bath in here, I didn’t know you…”

Of course. You were absolutely sure Valka had known. The little witch. You had to stifle a laugh.

“It’s alright, Eivor. I’m almost done. This bath is terribly dirty though, you should probably warm up some fresh water for yourself.”

The blushing warrior just nodded and went out again to get water and snow. You noticed you had forgotten the soap on the sideboard. Should you get up and risk standing completely wet and naked in front of Eivor when she came back? It was not like she had not seen you naked before; she had washed and dressed you when you had been sick and feverish. But things were different now. Even though you still had not kissed since that unlucky drunk embrace, the tension between you often thickened the air and stopped your breath.

You still did not feel completely ready to give yourself to Eivor, even though at times you wanted to. Randvi had been nice and respectful toward you since you had spoken to Eda and she had not moved in on Eivor anymore, but Eivor had also been mostly sober ever since.

It had been an idea of yours to wait until the winter solstice when everyone would celebrate and drink to see how Eivor behaved and to decide then if you wanted to let her in. Even though the wait was torture sometimes, it would be worth it in the end and it would show her how serious you were about your conditions for this relationship to work.

The door opened and Eivor came in, filling the cauldron with water and not daring to look in your direction.

“Eivor, could you please hand me the pine soap over there? I need to tame this nest on my head.” The last few days had really taken a toll on your hair, the braids from the ceremony now ruffled and loose while dust, dirt, and sweat stuck to your hair.

The blonde seemed to hesitate for a moment, then she took the dark piece of soap and slowly came over to you. When you saw how nervous she was, you suddenly felt a great calm and confidence come over you. Instead of covering or crouching in the water, you stayed splayed out and relaxed, visible for her under the surface. Red patches formed on Eivor’s neck as she handed you the soap, intent on only looking into your eyes.

“Thank you.” You began lathering it in your hair and on your neck and chest. Eivor had moved to the fireplace, but she suddenly straightened up and half-turned.

“I could… I can help you with your hair. If you want. I know how knotted it can get from training.”

She took the wide-toothed comb Valka had used to detangle your hair the last time and took a step toward you. You smiled at her.

“That would be nice. I’m still not used to maintaining it while wearing it down.”

Eivor knelt down on the floor right behind your head and started running her fingers through your wet hair. Every time her fingertips touched your scalp, it felt like tiny flashes of lightning struck your skull. The warrior began to hum as she slowly combed out every strand of hair, starting from the bottom and working her way up. Finally, she grabbed a small pot, took some of the warm, clean water from the kettle, and poured it over your head to wash out any remains of the soap.

As you began to get up, she held out a hand for you and helped you stand and step out of the tub. Like before, her eyes were fixed to yours as she handed you the large cloth to dry yourself off. You wrapped yourself in it, then you stepped to Valka’s great wooden table and took some of her Cedar oil, massaging it into your sore shoulders and arms. Meanwhile, Eivor dragged the heavy wooden tub to the door and emptied it into the bushes next to the hut before putting it back in its place and starting to fill it anew.

You slipped the tunic over your head and let the sheet fall to the floor before wrapping all your dirty clothes in it. You decided to wash all your things right in the morning, Eivor’s clothes included. As you turned around to her, you were now the one caught off guard. She had already undressed and was stepping into the tub with her back to you.

There were tattoos down her spine and on her shoulder blades, beautiful artwork in dark blue and black. She had loosened her braids and her long, wavy hair was falling down her back and over her shoulders. When she grabbed the sides of the tub and lowered herself into the hot bath, the muscles at her arms and back danced under her skin. My drengr.

“I’ll see you at our hut?” you asked shyly. Eivor gave you a look that made your heart skip a beat.

“Yes, my darling. I will join you there.”

You had already fallen asleep from exhaustion when Eivor came back to your hut. She found you curled up with Birna. The quiet closing of the door woke you up and you kept your eyes closed, listening intently as Eivor threw her clothes on your pile in the corner, took off her shoes and slipped into bed with you.

She smelled fresh, like soap and healing calendula and sage. Valka must have come back and given her infused oils, probably for her healing wound. Eivor scooted close to your back and you lifted your head slightly so she could slide her arm underneath your neck before hugging you tightly to her chest.

“You smell nice,” you mumbled and pushed your hips back against her almost unnoticeably. You could tell she noticed very well though, her breath stopping for a moment before she replied.

“You look beautiful when you sleep.” She pressed a light kiss to the soft patch of skin behind your ear and hugged you tight. Birna was purring quietly. Her family was all here.

After training your axe fighting for the entire next day, ignoring your sore muscles and pushing yourself even harder, you were picked up by Valka at the training grounds for a sunset walk. She had brought bread and dried fruit, as well as two big jugs of steaming hot mead.

You thanked Eivor for another productive day and for her endless patience and confidence in you, then you dried off your face with a small cloth and slipped into your fur coat, gratefully taking a sip of mead.

As you made your way on a path along the shoreline, Birna joined you for your walk. Even though she still did not like the snow, she had grown so fond of you that she rarely let you out of her sight anymore. Valka showed you where to still look for plants and how to dig for roots while you told her about the things you had learned today. She was happy with your progress, content that you were fulfilling her prophecy so closely.

On a small meadow where thick fir trees spared some of the ground from the snow, you actually found small white flowers. Valka explained that it was winter honeysuckle, a beautiful little plant that was most beloved for its fragrance. She rubbed a few petals between her fingers and held them up to your nose. It smelled delightful. She would show you how to distill the essence of honeysuckle tomorrow.

A while later, while the sun was already setting and drenching the world in beautiful orange-golden light, you found little red buds sticking out of the snow. It was heather, a flower usually associated with good fortune. You collected it all in a jute sack and Valka told you that the tiny buds could be used to aid with digestion and bladder issues. It astounded you every day, the way nature gave you everything you needed to heal and to help, to eat and drink, a cure for every illness and aid in every situation. You stuck one of the small heather branches into your shirt so it rested between your breasts, right over your heart. The winter solstice tomorrow would bring you luck and happiness, you could feel it.

This year you would not celebrate Christmas as you had done your whole life, but instead, the solstice would herald Yuletide, twelve days of celebrations. There would be sacrifices and feasts, fights and dances, singing and storytelling. Valka’s eyes were gleaming when she told you of the traditions and her plans for this year’s feast. You could tell this was special to her and you had a feeling that it would be like nothing you had ever experienced.

As you started to make your way back, daylight now dwindling fast and leaving the world gray and dim, you could hear a wolf howling in the distance. You shuddered, terrified of the wild beasts that had sometimes ripped apart your Lord’s sheep and dogs. Valka sensed your fear and took your hand in hers.

“You must not be afraid of the wolves anymore, little dove. You belong to Eivor Wolfsmal and no wolf will ever harm you.”

Her words made you think. Up until now, you had thought the name stemmed from her family or maybe a sweet story from her home, but you had never really considered a strong meaning behind it. Now that you thought of it, that was stupid. Only people who went through extreme pain or overcame great obstacles were given those kinds of titles.

“Where did that name come from?” you asked Valka, “Wolf-kissed?”

The healer squeezed your hand. It was dark and the lights of the village only slowly became visible in the distance, but the moon was bright and lit your path in the white snow.

“You have to ask Eivor that, it is her story to tell. I can say however that it was not a mere kiss by the beast that gave her the title. Did you ever notice the scar on her neck?”

Your stomach twisted. You knew the scar she was speaking of. It was dreadful and large, covering the entire right side of her neck from her hairline to her throat. You had thought it a burn mark or something obtained in a fight. Had it really been the result of a wolf attack? The thought scared you even more. Valka held your hand tightly in hers.

“Ask her, she will tell you what happened. You need not be afraid, I promise.”

As you finally came close to the village again, Valka stopped and turned to you.

“I wanted to tell you how greatly I enjoy spending time with you. People come to me with questions all the time, but they just want to hear answers, they do not want to find the answers themselves or even learn how to ask the questions the right way. You truly listen to me and you have already learned so much. I hope I can teach you everything I know so that one day you may know more than me.”

You wanted to laugh, but she was completely serious. You drew her in for a hug and mumbled your gratitude into her furs.

“Thank you, Valka, for all you do. I am just as eager to learn and grow as you are to teach. You are a wonderful friend.”

“Y/N, is that you? Valka?” A voice in the dark called out to you. A big figure was stomping along the path toward you from the village. It was Eivor, visibly agitated. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You could see her breath in the moonlight as she came closer.

“Uh… We collected plants for Valka and for the Yule festival?” You were not sure what you had done wrong. Eivor came to a halt in front of you and immediately pulled you into her arms, sighing as she pressed you close for a moment, then she held you at arm’s length and shot you both angry looks.

“What were you thinking, alone out here in the dark without anyone to protect you or at least a torch? Have you gone mad? Thor's hammer, I was so worried! Valka, what is your explanation for this?”

Valka seemed not at all impressed with Eivor’s display of rage and worry.

“As Y/N said, we were collecting plants. The moon lit our way, we were close to the village and only walked along the shore. There was no need to worry. We are no longer in Norway, with bears and wolves all around.”

You quickly glanced at her but decided to keep the howl you had heard to yourself. Eivor grunted, then she grabbed you both by the arms and began to stride back to the village, pulling you along with her. You could have sworn you heard Valka giggle, but the drengr between you ignored her.

Back at the village Eivor told you, a little too sternly, to go to her hut and wait for her there. She had set up a basin with hot water for you to clean yourself and the clothes you had washed in the morning and hung in front of the fireplace would be dry by now.

“I need to go to the longhouse and make more preparations for tomorrow. Valka, will you come with me?”

The seeress just nodded, gave you a secretive smile, and went ahead. Eivor stayed behind with you. She sighed and pulled you in for another hug, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again. I thought you were lost and I would have to call up everyone to go look for you, the day before Yule.”

You wrapped your arms around her waist and looked up at her.

“I apologize,” you mumbled. “I should have told you where we were going and how long we would be gone. I won’t leave you in the dark anymore.”

“Thank you.” Eivor pressed another kiss to your temple. “I’ll see you later.” She left for the longhouse.

Birna rubbed herself against your ankles - you had completely forgotten about her! She had followed you this entire time. You had to laugh as you picked up the cat and held her close; you had not been without protection after all.

Back at your hut you dropped all of your clothes to the floor and splashed some of the warm water in the metal bowl into your cold face, relishing in the wonderful prickly sensation of your skin warming up. You cleaned your body with a small piece of soap and a cloth, then you slipped into a fresh tunic that was still warm from the fire.

As you waited for Eivor, you mended a few holes in your clothes and the quilt that kept you warm in the cold winter nights. Picking up your clothes and folding them so you could stack them in the corner, you noticed the little branch of heather among the heaps of fabric and fur. You spun it between your fingers a few times, contemplating over the things you had learned from Valka today.

The Yule festival would be wonderful and you were hoping to bond with the other clan members even more, maybe even to see Eda again. You noticed that you had forgotten to ask Randvi about her. Hopefully, the matter would resolve itself tomorrow. Even though you were on good terms with Randvi now, you were still not too keen on spending more time with her than was absolutely necessary.

You were half asleep when you heard Eivor at the door and sat up to greet her. She seemed to be in a great mood.

“How are the preparations going?” you asked, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

“Oh, fantastic. We will slaughter an ox tomorrow and roast him over a great fire. We will eat like kings for days!” Eivor beamed at you and jumped into the bed, quickly sliding under the blanket and pressing her cold cheek to your shoulder, making you squeal and try to scramble away, but she only pulled you closer.

After playfully wrestling with her for a moment, you settled down and she tucked a strand of hair behind your hair. An idea suddenly came to your mind.

“Eivor, will you teach me how to fight without weapons?”

“What do you mean, my dove?” She gave you a confused look.

“I mean fighting like when you pulled Norvid off of me the other day. I want to learn to defend myself even if it’s not a life or death situation.”

“Oh, I see.” She sat up. “Right now?”

You had thought she could just put this into her training schedule for you, but you would not say no to a few new skills on the spot.

“Why not?” You got up and stood next to the bed. Eivor stood next to you. Birna seemed to know exactly what was going on and hid under the bed.

“Alright. First, what to do when someone hugs you without your approval. Show me what you would do.” She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around you. Your first instinct was to hug her back, but you remembered just in time that you were supposed to fight her off. You put your hands between you and tried to push against her ribcage, but she did not move an inch. Instead, she pressed you closer and you could not move your hands anymore.

“See, this is your first mistake,” Eivor chuckled. “You gave up your hands. Never let them capture your limbs and if they have, try to free them first. What you could do now is either headbutt me, stomp on my foot, or kick me in the groin if your legs are free to move that way.”

You slowly put your foot on hers and pressed down. She laughed at your careful movement and let go, then she hugged your ribcage again, leaving your arms free.

“Now you could punch me in the ribs or the head, but as you have no training in that regard, I could probably take the hits and lock you in again. It’s better to go straight for the head. Grab it with both hands if you can and twist it away from your body.” You gently placed your hands around her head and turned it away. “If I don’t want you to snap my neck, my body has to move along.” She turned with her head and loosened her hug. You mimicked stomping on her foot and she let go completely, stepping back and grinning at you.

“Perfect!” Eivor took your hand and whirled you around, suddenly grabbing you from behind and pinning your arms to your body.

“Now how about this?” Her breath was hot behind your ear and sent shivers down your spine.

You tried to wiggle free, scratched at her sides with your fingernails, and put all your strength into freeing your arms, but she held you in her iron grip. You resorted to stepping on her toes again, but she only loosened her grip slightly.

“You need to drop your weight first,” she instructed. “Bend your knees and let yourself fall down, then smash my foot with yours.” You followed her command and she gave way enough to take a step forward. “Now kick your foot back and catch my knee.” You did as she told you and she let go before immediately pulling you in again.

“You can also throw your head back and try to break my nose before taking that step forward and kicking my knee.” You tried it out carefully.

“If you need to run away, always go for their knees or groin so they drop and cannot follow,” she reminded you. “Let’s go again.”

With a playful growl, she jumped toward you and you squealed as she grabbed you from behind, then you let yourself fall down, stomped on her foot, and kicked her shin. She gasped in pain and let you go, rubbing the spot where you had hit her.

“Good girl,” she groaned. “Remind me never to surprise you from behind.”

You laughed and began to apologize, but she just grabbed you and threw you on the bed, pinning you beneath her. She sat up between your legs and pinned down your throat, keeping the weight of her hands on your collar bones instead of actually choking you. Her face was smooth and focused.

“Now, what you do if someone is holding you down like so is this: You grab my left shoulder with your left arm, so go across” - you placed your hand on her shoulder, your pinky finger touching her burning hot skin - “then you press my right hand to your chest with your right hand and hold it tight there.”

You grabbed her hand and pressed it to your collarbone, almost sure she could feel your heart beating faster in your chest.

“Now you raise your right leg all the way up under my left armpit and wrap it across my back.” She waited until you had hooked your leg around her body, now completely entangled with the large woman on top of you.

“Your final move is raising up your left leg, pushing me further to the left with your hand on my shoulder, and lifting the leg over my head.” You suddenly realized that you were only wearing a tunic and linen undergarments, your legs wide open underneath her and your tunic sliding up to your stomach as you lifted your hips to wrap your legs around her shoulder. Your cheeks began to burn hot with blood, but you followed her orders quietly.

“Now you have my shoulder in a tight lock, my head is pushed away from you and you have captured my right arm. If you pull it, it will seriously hurt me.” You immediately let go of her hand and she straightened up and smiled at you. You pulled your tunic down, blushing at the look she gave you.

“Again, faster this time.” She repositioned herself between your legs and pressed her hands to your throat.

You concentrated. Left hand to her left shoulder, right hand holding her right arm down, leg up, left leg over and pull. Eivor tapped your thigh and groaned again, rubbing her shoulder this time and moving her arm in circles a few times to loosen up the strained muscle. She looked quite impressed with you.

Jumping up from the bed, you got in your fighting stance.

“Let’s try again, full strength this time,” you said and you could see Eivor was stifling a grin. She would never risk hurting you.

She got up and paused for a moment, then she moved in so quickly you had no chance to react, hugging you from the side and clamping down your arms. You tried to drop your weight, but she just pushed her hips forward and picked you up, your legs flailing in the air uselessly. She threw you on the bed like a sack of flour, then she straddled you and pinned down your wrists above your head.

You were so stunned that you did not even attempt to wriggle free, staring up at the blonde above you. Her icy blue gaze burned into your face, her mouth was slightly open and her breath fast as her eyes wandered to your lips. Slowly, she lowered her head down toward yours, her gaze still fixed to your lips and her grip tight around your wrists.

For a moment, you breathed in each other’s air. You were one.

At the last second, you realized your advantage. In one swift motion, you rammed your hips upwards so she flew forward over your head and had to let go of your hands to catch herself. You wrapped your legs around her waist and pulled her right arm underneath her and to your right so she fell on her shoulder and rolled to the side, leaving way for you to roll on top of her. Now you were straddling her, her arm still in your hands.

She was completely thunderstruck, her eyes wide as she realized what had happened. Then she started laughing, her deep baritone filling the room. You could feel her chest vibrating beneath you, a sensation that made blood not only rush to your cheeks but also further down.

Quickly, you got off of her and let yourself fall to the mattress next to her. She was still chuckling.

“You got me, my delicate dove. An important thing people often forget is the element of surprise. If you have it on your side, you can defeat the greatest, strongest warrior.”

Eivor turned to you and rested her head on her bicep, dreamy gaze wandering over your face again. She was completely infatuated with you.

“Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.

“Of course, my darling.”

“Why do they call you Wolf-kissed?”

The warrior rolled on her back again and crossed her arms over her head, studying the wooden ceiling like she always did when she was struggling to put the chaos in her head into words. You followed her gaze and waited patiently.

“Sigurd is not my real brother. His father was the head of our clan and my parents were great drengrs, fighting at his side. One day he was giving a feast when we were attacked. I was only a child. It was Kjotve the Cruel. He slaughtered my parents and many of our clan. I only survived because Sigurd fled with me, but we got separated and I ended up injured on a frozen lake.” She laid her arm over her eyes as if trying to see the scene before her.

“When I came to my senses, a wolf was there with me. He was all alone and looked like he was starving. His pack must have cast him out. My axe was just out of reach and he attacked me, biting down into my neck to kill me. My cries alerted two ravens nearby” - she lifted her arm again and gave you a bittersweet smile - “and they distracted the wolf long enough so I could grab my axe and strike it. Sigurd found me soon after and his family adopted and raised me.”

Your heart felt like a little clump of cold, hard clay after listening to her frightful story. What could you say to her? She let out a quiet laugh.

“Don’t worry, you do not have to pity or console me. I have long made my peace with wolves and I have taken vengeance for my parents. Now all that is left of that terrible day is my scar and my voice.”

She hesitated for a moment, then she looked at you again.

“And a tremendous fear of losing those I love.”

#eivor #lady eivor #f!eivor #eivor x reader #lady eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed #ac valhalla #assassinscreedvalhalla #assassins creed valhalla #lesbian fanfiction #eivor fanfiction #angst #fluff #comfort

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count-woe-laf · 4 years ago

Text

You can’t spell stargaze without gays

I write? Since when? Yes I’m aware the title makes no sense, I’m uncreative. This was supposed to be a late birthday present for @me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink but it’s super late now, I still enjoyed writing it and planning it with her, I hope you’re having a great day, Silver. I’m sorry I got science facts wrong and I don’t know how to end things or how normal people talk

Logan and Virgil are hopeless pining gay idiots with horrible communication skills, but they’re working on it. (Romantic analogical, very background royality and platonic dukeceit.) 1850 words

"Bring me a diet coke!" Virgil called to Roman as he ran out of the truck, through the gravel parking lot, and towards the bright 7/11.

Logan let out a small laugh from next to him. "You know he's going to spend an hour flirting with the cashier and forget."

"Yeah I know, it's fine. Surprising that he's moved up from panicking around Patton to flirting with him, that's what I call character development."

"Character development that's gone on for ten too many seasons."

"True. But while he's in there I have more time to spend with you," Virgil replied with a smirk, Logan's cheeks reddening.

"You all are disgusting," called Remus from the backseat.

"I agree," Janus sighed. "Though I can do many things, understanding allos is not one of them."

"Then get out of my truck," Virgil jokingly glared into the rearview mirror.

"It's Roman's truck-" Logan started, Virgil shifted his glare towards him. "Ok yeah, get out."

"Think we can find bigfoot, Jan?"

"We're only half an hour away from the city, try again," but Janus let himself be dragged out into the nearby forest.

Logan and Virgil were left alone, thoughts of what had gone on the past week between them running through their heads. The hand brushes, the late night phone calls, the hoodies, the excessive amount of feelings that for once, neither of them minded. There was always more to say though.

"You can see lots of stars from out here," Virgil commented rather nervously. "You should come outside with me and look at them."

It was an offering just for Logan. He was the only one allowed to stargaze with Virgil while others were flirting in a 7/11 and being chaotic in a forest. Logan and Virgil in the bed of a truck staring at the night sky. ...Well, one of them was looking at the stars.

"You know to stargaze you actually have to look at them, right? You can just look at me, V."

"Who's saying you're not a star? 'Cause you definitely are, love."

"Love?" Logan tilted his head towards Virgil's red face.

"Uh-" Virgil looked away quickly. "What is that constellation? It looks like a spoon."

"Do you seriously not know? That's the big dipper, it's part of the constellation ursa major."

"You're the science-y one here, how would I know?" Logan just sighed. "You should keep talking though, I love your voice."

"Oh… Well that's the northern star…"

"Why is it called that?"

"Um, it's the most northern star, I believe astronomers base things off of it."

Virgil snoted, "wow. Star dudes sure are creative."

Logan looked over, an indescribable emotion on his face. "Pardon me, but did you just call astronomers, 'star dudes'?"

Virgil stared back, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Star. Dudes."

"...I will defenestrate you."

"Oh?"

"Do you even know what that means?"

"Yeah," Virgil said. "It means you pick me up and I get to simp over your muscles."

"It also means I throw you out of a window."

"I'll take what I can get." Logan let out a fond sigh. "Ok 'cause your constellations are boring and factual- don't worry I still love them- but I'm telling stories now."

"You're going to kill me."

"In your dreams, babe."

"What's that supposed to-"

"Over there is Elenor, it kinda looks like a bunny, I know. Their boyfriend is Jesse over there-"

"Virgil I swear, I'm leaving you in the forest." Logan's words gave a much different meaning when he was struggling to keep in his laugh.

Virgil chucked. "Oh Logan, so naive, there's so much more. Those three stars? Yeah they're Bo Peep's sheep."

Logan choked, the statement taking him by surprise. "Excuse me? You can't just…"

"Y'know, from Toy Story? Doesn't she have three sheep or something? I swear that was a plot point in one of the movies."

"The threat of being thrown out of a window still stands, Virge."

"Good, now that star over there…"

"Her name is Jennifer, she got a constellation for making the best bean salad."

Virgil tried to hold in a laugh. "And what did you say that one was?"

Logan was so enamoured with Virgil's laugh that he almost didn't notice him intertwining their fingers. Almost. He still had to take a breath to regain his nearly non-existent composure. Although fifteen minutes couldn't have passed, Logan could tell that it was a good decision to accept Roman's offer for a fake road trip.

"That guy with the belt?" Logan continued. "He was the first person to invent clothes. Quite the fashion icon for his time."

"Oh yeah?" Virgil giggled and Logan's heart stuttered in his chest.

"Yeah, he was also the only straight man in his village. It was very controversial." Virgil hummed in response, trying to calm his laughter.

"We're pretty controversial."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We're lying in the bed of Roman's truck, well past midnight and the city limits, looking at stars. Janus and Remus are probably lost in the forest and Roman and Patton have probably gotten over their gay panic and are planning their wedding together."

"I'm not sure how that's controversial, but it is interesting that we've achieved nothing compared to them." Logan's eyes drifted back to the stars.

"I think not getting lost is a plus." He made a noise of agreement. "And uh… I know we're not as vocal about stuff like the others but… Dating you wouldn't be bad." It came out more like a question, causing Logan to look back at him.

"Fuck- I mean-" Virgil ran a hand down his face. "It would actually be really really nice if I could be your boyfriend because- ugh stop staring at me like that! It's just that you're really great and nice to be around and to talk to and I can't imagine you not being in my life. A-and I know we've been kinda sorta dating but you know how dumb we both are about romance and all that stuff- oh god this is romance, I can't believe that…

"I just really like you, Logan and I need to make sure you know that."

Virgil's words swirled into the air, into the sky, into that great expanse of stars and light.

They laid there and stared at the stars, thinking, considering, and a fair amount of staring on Logan's side.

He couldn't help it, really. He couldn't stop his eyes tracing the curve of his jaw, his bitten lips, the words that previously escaped them were still spinning through Logan's head. And Virgil's hair, his adorably messy hair that was usually hanging in front of his eyes, was pushed to the side, Logan could see a galaxy reflected in his beautiful eyes.

Virgil was his galaxy, his sun, his stars. He had kept him sane through years of school. He constantly went out of his way just to brighten Logan's day a little bit more, and brighten he did.

Virgil meant everything to him and he'd be damned if he went home tonight without showing him that.

"Didn't… Didn't you say you always wanted to go stargazing with your partner?"

"Uhh, yeah." Virgil replied hoarsely.

"I suppose you get to cross that off your list, then." Logan wondered how he suddenly had some semblance of smoothness to his words.

"Oh."

The stars seemed awfully bright that night, especially in the way they reflected off Virgil's freckles.

"Is… Is that a shooting star?" Virgil lifted his free hand, tracing the bright line across the map of stars.

"There's no such thing as shooting stars." Virgil rolled his eyes. "But, I… do believe that's a satellite."

"Then make a wish."

"That's stupid and makes no sense, wishing on a satellite has no affect on my life."

"Just do it, my northern star."

Logan's red face was a reflection off the far away street lights, nothing else. "Am I supposed to tell you what I wished for?"

"Not really, but you can. I'd love to know what goes on in that brilliant head of yours."

"My head is empty, unfortunately." Virgil laughed, he did that quite a bit around him. "I wished that we'd have a good relationship. Apologizes, is that weird, or too soon? I… just mean that we're both terrible at communicating, I hope that we can improve together as a couple."

“Oh."

Although Virgil may not have realized it, Logan noticed as he lightly brushed his thumb over his hand. It was stupidly endearing and soft, just as Virgil was.

"That's probably the cutest thing anyone's ever said that slightly regards me."

"Glad I can be of service, darling."

"So darling is what you go with?"

"Would you prefer something else?"

"...No. If I can call you my boyfriend you can call me whatever you want." Virgil smiled. "…You're my boyfriend. That's nice to say."

"It is. I wonder how I stumbled upon a boyfriend as good as you."

"You- you need to stop doing that," Virgil blushed.

"I'm not doing anything!" Logan shifted closer to him, for heating purposes of course, it was a little chilly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know full well."

"Do I really, Virgil?"

"Shut up and look at the stars."

"Make me."

"Logan I swear-"

"Fine, fine, I will." Virgil mumbled thanks under his breath. "But they aren't as pretty as you."

Virgil let out a noise, a mix between a screech and a cough. There was no way he was showing Logan how fluttery his words made his heart feel. (Although he felt it was common knowledge among them.)

"There's around twenty minutes until the others get back, that's twenty minutes to mess with you."

"I'm already regretting this, Lo."

"As you should, my love."

Yes, their friends may have interrupted their stargazing a few minutes later. Yes, Roman may have forced Patton to leave his shift early resulting in one too little seats and an angry boss. Yes, they may have almost ran out of gas on the way home. Yes, they may have bought fries as Janus looked for a gas station. Yes, they may have fallen onto the floor seconds later. Yes, Remus may have jumped out of the car afterwards because he said it looked fun and almost sprained his ankle. And yes, Roman did have to explain the situation five times to his parents because they couldn't stop laughing about all the shenanigans they got into that night.

Still, Virgil's arm stayed around Logan's waist like it was the most casual thing in the world. Still, they shared a milkshake once everyone had given up on the fallen fries. Still, they were both filled with such a bright happiness that it was impossible to drag them down. And maybe they fell asleep on a video call that night. Or maybe Logan stayed over and they woke up with their limbs tangled in each other's, feeling content and appreciative of the other as they slowly woke up. Honestly, who's to say? It was just a good night.

#analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #hope y'all enjoyed this because I'm kinda proud of it #love you sil #ts logan #ts virgil #also yeah i have a taglist tell me if you want to be added #pen throws away a pen

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honeypirate · 4 years ago

Text

Concussed

Pro hero Red Riot/Kirishima x Pro hero y/n.

Reader is a higher hero than Kirishima and the public likes her more. I didn’t specify her quirk but I’d say it was more power type.

(When I had a concussion before i couldn’t walk all day bc of being insanely dizzy and I talked a lot, said anything I wanted to say and didn’t think of it. So I went with that and exaggerated just a little with it)

I like to think he hair doesn’t harden with his quirk even tho I can realistically see how it would. It’s just my preference for this fic.

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

You were in his strong arms as he carried you to where the ambulances would be. He had his fair share of concussions, and so had you actually, but this time yours wasn’t too bad. he was concerned mainly because you weren’t acting like yourself, you were blunt and mischievous, he knew you were always talkative but it was never like this, so before he took you home he was going to have one of the EMTs look at you.

For the first time in your life you don’t even think about consequences you’re not thinking of tomorrow or when you’re all healed, you are doing and saying what comes to mind immediately. Which is why you currently had on his hero costume mask and your hands buried in his silky hair.

“How is his hair so soft?” He chuckled as you raked your fingers through his hair “oh shit did I say that out loud? My heads kind of fuzzy still.” You never stopped playing with his hair. “Since I’m saying everything out loud anyway, how come your quirk doesn’t work on your hair?” You wish you could feel the softness of his hair on your face “How can you be sure it doesn’t?” He laughs as he responds and you notice the pink on his cheeks “it doesn’t. I’ve noticed. I notice everything about you Kiri” your hands quickly go to his face and softly touch his deep red blushing cheeks, the action jostling you in his arms “Kiri I am so dizzy, I think I have a concussion. That guy hit my head so hard” you burry your head in his chest, the action causing his hero mask to fall down around you like a necklace. “Y/h/n, i know there isn’t anyone around and that you have a concussion, but please try and remember to call me Red, at least while we’re out, okay, sweetheart?” Your head shot up to look him in the eye, it felt like your brain was the last to follow, sloshing around in your head, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t even notice. I’m sorry. Red” you nodded as you said it even tho you wouldn’t remember.

You loved his name so you tried to say it as much as you could in normal life without it being weird. You lay your head back down on his chest and close your eyes, your hands on his neck drawing little designs on his skin with your fingers “hey don’t fall asleep on me. Not until we get you checked out and healed up” you laughed “and then after you’ll let me fall asleep on you? That would probably be the best sleep I’ve ever had” you sigh and with your ear against his chest you notice his heart beat quicken. “I love you my Kiri” you whisper into his chest before you fall asleep and he hardly caught it. His eyes widen and his breath hitches.

“Hey hey don’t fall asleep come on baby wake up!” He tries to wake you up but you’re too far gone, luckily he’s just made it to the ambulances. It was a small villain fight so there was only a few of them around on different streets. Fewer now that the fight has been over for a while.

One of the EMTs ran up to him “how is she hurt?” “She’s got a concussion but I think that’s it” “follow me” kirishima and the EMT take you to the ambulance and he lays you down on the bed “with my quirk” the EMT says “I can assess her injuries and if they are small I can heal them. The only consequence being she’ll be very tired and weak. You’ll have to help her home.” Kirishima nods “okay.” the EMT puts their hands on your head and closes their eyes, nararating what they sees with their quirk. “She’s got a nasty concussion and some fractured ribs. Should be easy to fix. I seeee.... no other problems.” When their hands fall from your hair your eyes open and you look around until you see him, his eyes full of worry when you sit up and look at him fully. “There you are. I was just dreaming of you.” He smiles as he looks into your tired eyes “she needs to get some rest now” the EMT says to Kiri and he nods. You go to stand and you wobble a little so Kiri picks you up into his arms once more.

“You don’t have to carry me I think I’ll be okay now” he just shushes you so you lay your head on his chest and draw shapes on his chest absentmindedly with one of your hands. “I want to help you out until you’re feeling yourself again so you’re coming to my house.” He says and you feel your cheeks blush “okay. Thank you Red Riot” you say quietly. Remembering how stupid you were when you had a concussion. You were so grateful to him for carrying you, even more grateful that it was in the middle of the night and no one was around to see. The one thing you didn’t need was this in the newspaper. (Just wait until you see next mornings headline because you’re already there)

When you got back to his place he sets you down gently in the living room. “Kiri, do you have like some sweats and a shirt I could borrow so I don’t have to stay in this?” You ask quietly and gesture down at your dirty suit. He blushes and nods “yes I do. Come with me and you can shower too if you want”

After a nice long hot shower, you put on a pair of black sweats and a faded gray UA High teeshirt. You were surrounded in his scent like it was hugging you in. You fold your hero suit and walk out of the bathroom to find him in the kitchen making some tea and a late night snack. You place your suit down on a kitchen chair

“There’s my girl” he says with a smile and your heart beat quickens. “Hey” you say shyly and he comes and pulls you into a hug “god you scared me. I thought you had like terrible brain damage or something. You were talking and acting crazy until I got you to the healer” you laugh awkwardly “was I really that crazy?” You ask worried about everything you said. Worried that your real honest thoughts about him he thinks are crazy. He pulls back and gazes down at you “no. Not really that crazy at all.” He smiles sweetly down at you holding your face in his hands. He takes a deep breath and then ends the moment, secretly because he was terrified your words were only because of the concussion and not the honest truth. “I made you some tea” You take the tea he hands you and he takes you into his room to lay in bed and watch a movie.

You sit cross legged and drink your tea as he sets up some new Christmas show on Netflix. Your tea is finished by the end of episode one and you’re hooked on this show. You lay on your side and hug one of his pillows to your chest. He lays on the other side of the bed, one arm behind his head and the other on his stomach. He isn’t really watching any of the show, he just watches you. Your smiling face when cute things happen, your eyes are bright and happy. He loves it. He’s extremely jealous of the pillow you’re using to hug. He wishes you were holding on to him that tight. He moves and is now sitting with his back against the headboard and hands in his lap.

“Y/n?” You pause the show and sit up, turning towards him “Kiri?” He smiles and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Do you remember what you said when you were concussed?” You swallow hard, remembering telling him you loved him, and whisper “yea” his hand hasn’t left your cheek, he’s softly rubbing your skin with his thumb “did you mean it?” He asks just as quiet.

Your mouth goes dry as you look into his eyes, your hands start to sweat and your heart races as you try to gauge what’s going to happen after you say yes. He’s either going to say he loves you back or he’s going to shut you down. Either way at least you’ll be able to move on.

You reach up and cover his hand with your own, before gently placing it in your lap and running your fingertips across his, you watch your fingers trace his callouses, afraid to meet his eyes. “Yes, Eijiro, I meant it” you whisper.

“Y/n. Please look at me” he whispers and takes your hands in his. You look up into his eyes with your brows furrowed. He smiles and reaches up to smooth out your forehead “always so easy for me to read” he scoots closer to you and kisses your forehead “don’t worry. Don’t be nervous. How could I not love you back?” His voice is warm and calm.

He smiles and strokes your cheek as you stare into his eyes shocked, he loves you back... relief flooded your body followed by excitement and butterflies. He watched it all in your eyes. A smile slowly spread across your face and you felt yourself blush. “You love me?” You say quietly and reach your hands up placing them in his cheeks “I love you y/n” he says with a smile and a shrug, like he was suddenly shy to be admitting it.

You throw yourself into his arms and laugh “I love you!” You say and he holds you in his arms laughing along with you. When you pull back he looks into your eyes, you can see the pure happiness and adoraration in his eyes. “My beautiful girl” he says softly and you blush. He leans forward kissing your nose, then both cheeks, then pressing his lips finally against yours. You melt against him and he holds you tight in his strong arms. When he pulls back you lay your hand on his cheek and sigh happily. “I can’t believe that Red Riot is in love with me. This is gonna boost you hero reputation exponentially!” You laugh at the look of shock on his face “get it? Because the community loves me? And I’m always in the news? And I’m a few points higher than you?” You keep explaining what’s obvious and poking his cheeks softly with a smile on your face that said you thought you were the funniest girl. He shakes his head and laughs with you.

He pulls you into his chest as he lays down on the bed “do you wanna finish this show?” He asks and you happy sigh as you cuddle closer into him, hugging him like you were the pillow. It warms his heart to finally get what he wanted. “Yes. But I might fall asleep. I love how warm you are” you respond and he laughs “that’s okay baby. You need rest. I’ll hold you as long as you want me to” you chuckle “forever?” You ask and he laughs “anything for you”

#ejiro kirishima x reader #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima x you #kirishima ejirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Text

When the Sun Goes Down

This story is a heavily edited adaptation of “Gabriel-Ernest”, written by H.H. Munro in 1909. I owe this whole story to @tinyplaidninjas (thank you for helping me fix my werewolf story dilemma).

This is almost 3k words long, fair warning

tw: kinda horny, nudity

---

"There is a wild beast in your woods," said Lambert, as the two men were being driven to the station. It was the only remark he’d made during the drive, but since Geralt had talked incessantly about his latest publication in the Kaedwen Journal of Medicine, his half-brother’s silence had not been noticeable.

"A stray fox or two, or perhaps some wandering brownies. Nothing more formidable," said Geralt. His brother said nothing.

---

"What did you mean about a wild beast?" Geralt asked later, when they were on the train platform with their bags and tickets in hand. Geralt was bound for his private woodland estate while Lambert was making his way into town to visit with friends.

"Nothing. Probably just my wild imagination running away with me again. Here comes the train," Lambert rushed.

Geralt found it odd, but said nothing. Perhaps he should not have gone on at length about the Medical Journal in the carriage. Perhaps Lambert was tired or overanxious about his meeting with Aiden. It had been years since the two college friends had seen each other in person and Geralt knew that his brother held the other, equally brilliant artist in high esteem. Surely, that was the reason for Lambert’s odd dismissal of his questions.

---

Once he’d returned to his estate and unpacked his bags, Geralt decided to take a stroll through the woods. He often took a leisurely walk in the late afternoon; the trees were full of chittering animals and preening birds this time of day, after all. The natural scientist and medical doctor found the great outdoors to be brimming with new discoveries. He wanted to pick everything apart and reassemble it accurately and down to the last minute detail. He wanted to know why certain animals behaved the way they did and how they communicated with each other. He wanted to know why the little white flowering plants in his yard only bloomed every other day. He craved the answer to the universal question of why as it applied to everything.

The doctor would often spend long afternoons sitting absolutely still in the center of his garden, observing the wildlife as it moved around him. Last summer he’d even managed to get a wild rabbit to eat out of his hand.

Now, though, the forest path seemed uncomfortably quiet. Had a larger predator taken to wandering his grounds? If so, he’d need to send word to a local hunter’s lodge and request assistance in ridding himself of the pest. As he was debating who to inquire after, he came across an unusual sight.

On a shelf of smooth stone overhanging a deep pool just to the side of the path, a boy of eighteen lay asprawl. He was drying his tan, dripping limbs luxuriously in the light of the late-summer sun and he had very few cares about doing so, according to his state of complete undress. His wet brown hair, (disheveled as it was by a recent mussing with his long, slender fingers) and bright blue eyes, so light that there was an almost cat-like gleam to them, were aimed in Geralt’s direction with a sense of lazy watchfulness.

He was an unexpected although not unwelcome apparition, and Geralt found himself quite ignoring his eldest brother’s good advice of “thinking before one spoke”. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest in what he hoped was a stance of great authority.

"What are you doing on my property?" he demanded. “And have you no shame? Trespassing for a cool dip in the water I could forgive, but you don’t even have the proper clothing to do so.”

"Obviously I came here to have a swim and sun myself," replied the boy. “I rather like how it feels to be bare beneath the warmth of the open sky.”

"Where do you live?" Geralt inquired, stepping closer. Every instinct in his body was telling him to run. To flee this place and the presence of his estate’s mysterious visitor.

"Here and there within these woods."

"You can't live in the woods," Geralt frowned. “It’s not proper.”

"They are very nice woods," said the boy. To Geralt his tone sounded almost patronizing. Borderline condescending. The doctor bristled and stepped forward again.

“You can’t possibly be surviving out here like this!”

“I am rather proficient at fending for myself.”

"Then where do you sleep at night?"

"I don't sleep at night,” the boy winked one of his cornflower eyes. The movement had Geralt’s head reeling and his heart thundering within the confines of his waistcoat. “That's my busiest time, dear heart."

"What do you eat?" the young professor and doctor finally asked. It felt as if that question had been on the tip of his tongue since he’d seen the strange creature come into view and only now did he have the adequate terror in his veins to ask it.

"Flesh," said the boy. He said the word slowly and carefully, almost as if he was running his tongue along every later to catch their flavor.

“What a horrible thing to say.”

“Hmm, it is the truth,” the slender youth rolled onto his back and tilted his head over the stony ledge. His mop of chestnut hair dangled down towards the water and he gazed steadily at the doctor from upside down, “I am plenty good at catching hares and birds and mice and men. I am not picky, you see. I gobble them all up.”

Geralt nearly choked on his tongue. His face flushed and his cheeks grew hot with indignance (and perhaps something else, a stirring in his belly that he quietly ignored). The audacity of such a creature! Such open and frank fliration was unheard of, especially since he was so indecorously nude!

"I can’t imagine you’re eating well. The rabbits on my estate have never been easy to trap or catch or corner. Not even my father’s best games keeper could do it, and that man lived on the property for nearly sixty years.”

"It is easier for me to hunt them than it is for your game keeper to trap them, Dr. Bellegarde,” the boy winked again. The sound of his name in the stranger’s mouth had Geralt mildly panicked. Did he know this improper young villain? Had he forgotten the boy’s name? Had the lad followed him back from university? The strange young man added another cryptic statement, “At night I hunt on four feet. It’s faster that way.”

"I suppose you’re referring to a dog?" Geralt offered. “And wouldn’t that be considered poaching, you hunting on my lands at night with your hound?”

The boy laughed a weird, low laugh; it was pleasantly like a chuckle and disagreeably like a snarl. Both portions of the sound had Geralt’s heart racing even faster in his chest. It felt nearly as painful as he’d expected from cardiac distress and he breathed evenly like he’d been taught to do under such duress. Slowly, the panicked feeling faded away and he gazed back at his trespasser with narrowed eyes. “Why are you laughing, then?”

"I don't think any dog would be very anxious for my company, especially not at night. We wouldn’t get along with each other, me and a dog.”

Geralt began to suspect (with a deep and primal sense of ever growing dread) that there was something odd and uncanny about the strange-eyed, silver-tongued youth lounging above the pond. He uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his hips, “Well you can’t keep sleeping in the woods.”

“I fancy you’d rather not have me in your house.”

The prospect of this wild, naked animal loose in the professor’s neatly ordered and well-kept manor was certainly an alarming one. Geralt glared and shook his head, dislodging some of his long white hair from its ribbon.

"If you don't go then I shall have to make you.”

The boy flipped onto his front in a flash and plunged into the pool. In the span of a moment he had crossed the short expanse of water and flung his glistening body half-way up the bank where Geralt was standing. For an otter the movement would not have been remarkable; for a boy it was sufficiently startling. Geralt’s leather-booted foot slipped as he jerked backwards involuntarily. After his arms windmilled for a moment and his balance failed him, the young doctor found himself almost prostrate on the slippery weed-grown shore of the pond with those cat-like blue eyes mere inches from his own.

He raised a hand to his throat instinctively and the boy laughed again; a laugh in which the snarl had nearly driven out the chuckle entirely. Then, with another of his astonishing lightning movements, the naked youth plunged out of view into a yielding tangle of weed and fern.

"What an extraordinarily wild animal!" said Geralt as he picked himself up. Then he recalled Lambert’s remark on the train station’s waiting platform: "There is a wild beast in your woods."

As he meandered his way back towards the manor proper, Dr. Bellegarde began to turn over in his mind some of the various local occurrences which might be traceable to the existence of his astonishing young savage.

According to the local paper, gathered the day previous by his valet, something had been thinning the game in the woods lately. Poultry had gone missing from several neighboring farms and factories, hares and rabbits were growing unaccountably scarcer, and complaints had reached the local constabulary of lambs being carried out of their pastures in the hills. Could it be possible that this wild boy was really hunting the countryside with a pack of obedient hounds?

The oddly pretty creature had spoken of hunting "four-footed" by night, but then, again, he had hinted strangely at no dog caring to come near him, "especially at night." It was certainly puzzling.

And then, as Geralt was running his mind over the various odd occurrences he’d heard reported from the village in the past few months, he came suddenly to a dead stop. The young man that had gone missing from the milling town upriver two months ago--the accepted theory was that he had tumbled into the millwheel and been swept away; but the boy’s mother had insisted that merely run away with some village girl (who had also disappeared).

He thought of the village youngster, who’d been applying to attend Oxenfurt at the time of his mysterious yet apparent death. Perhaps they were one in the same; but then, why in all the world, would a college hopeful by lying naked in the woods outside Dr. Bellegarde’s lonesome manor house? It was odd. Very odd.

"Where's your voice gone to, Doctor?" asked his housekeeper, Ms. Merrigold. "One would think you had seen a wolf on your walk."

At breakfast next morning, Geralt was overwhelmingly conscious that his feeling of uneasiness regarding yesterday's episode with the boy had not wholly disappeared. He had decided to go into the village and talk with Lambert about the “beast in his woods” and learn what his brother had really seen that had made him so twitchy. With his day planned and his mind slightly more settled, his usual cheerfulness partially returned. The doctor hummed a bright little melody as he sauntered to the morning-room for his customary cup of tea with Ms. Merrigold.

As Geralt entered the morning-room and scanned the familiar space his humming made way abruptly for a quietly shouted curse. Gracefully laid out atop his red velvet settee, in an attitude of almost exaggerated repose, was the boy from the woods. He was drier than when the doctor had last seen him, but still he remained entirely naked. Every inch of his lovely, soft-looking skin was on display; Geralt averted his eyes as quickly as possible and tried to hide his blushing face from the grinning minx.

"How dare you come in here like this!” he huffed.

"You told me I was not allowed to stay in the woods," said the boy calmly. He propped his elbow up on the cushion and laid his cheek against his palm, languidly stretching his legs out at the same time. The doctor breathed deeply and kept his eyes firmly locked with the strange young man’s.

"I did not invite you to come here!"

“Then I have misunderstood,” the boy sighed. The hand that had been supporting his head moved down and flattened against the settee. His arm straightened and his torso lengthened with the movement. Now sitting with one knee resting slightly bent atop the other, his hair messy and his shockingly blue eyes half-lidded, he looked like the painting of a young Cupid.

“Triss!” Geralt called, desperate for another person to intervene on his behalf. To save him from this tempting little beast. “Triss, fetch one of the pantry boys. We have a guest and he’s...he’s quite out of sorts.”

“Yes, Dr. Bellegarde,” his housekeeper called back. “Right away, sir!”

The boy giggled from the couch and Geralt whirled back to look at him. His finger was playing gently with the plumpest part of his lip and the young professor found himself flushing yet again. “Yes, Dr. Bellegard. Hurry to cover me up right away.”

---

Lambert was less than helpful when Geralt first asked about the beastly reference he’d made at the station.

"My dear father died of some brain trouble," he explained, "So you will understand why I am averse to dwelling on anything of an impossibly fantastic nature that I may see or think that I have seen. I don’t even know that I saw anything, you understand?”

"I am a medical doctor, Lambert, of course I understand. But what did you see?" Geralt inquired. “I must know.”

"What I thought I saw was something so extraordinary that no really sane man could dignify it with the credit of having actually happened. I was standing at the end of the lane near your manor property, half-hidden in the hedge growth by the orchard gate. I’d been watching the dying glow of the sunset and committing to memory for use in a future painting. Nothing extraordinary, of course, but beautiful nonetheless.

“It was then that I became aware of a naked boy. I assumed that he was a bather from some neighboring pool who was standing out on the bare hillside, also taking a moment to watch and appreciate the sunset. His pose was so suggestive of some wild faun of Pagan myth that I instantly wanted to engage him as a model, and in another moment I think I should have hailed him over to my hiding spot to discuss such a matter. Just then, however, the sun was lost over the edge of the horizon and the last of its warm orange glow slid away. The landscape was left a cold and gloomy grey.”

“And what of the boy? Your language is poetic, Lambert, but I’ve grown rather impatient!”

“The boy was gone, Geralt!”

"What? Did he simply vanish into nothing like some ghost or phantom?"

"No; that’s the most terrifying part, you see," answered the artist; "That’s the whole reason I didn’t want to tell you about this problem in the first place. Geralt, my dearest brother, on the open hillside where my momentary muse had been standing a second before, there was a wolf instead. It had shaggy brown-black fur and huge, gleaming fangs. Most terrifying of all were its huge, bright blue eyes.”

Geralt’s mind whirled with the new information. Lambert had indeed given him the details he’d so desperately needed to draw his final, strange conclusion: the boy was a werewolf! He thanked his younger half-sibling and made his departure, hurrying back to the manor as quickly as possible.

He had to make it home before dark.

---

“The moon isn’t full tonight,” the boy sighed. Triss had managed to wrestle him into a clean shirt and a pair of cropped blue breeches but despite the clothing he still seemed to ooze a sense of easy, naked confidence. The slim brunette was draped across the chaise lounge of Geralt’s personal study, his bare feet hanging over the arm.

“So?”

“So I will not transform into the horrible monster you fear I shall become,” he sighed again. He rolled his eyes in Geralt’s direction and smirked. “You and your housekeeper are safe. As is your cook, your pageboy, your valet, and your terribly friendly mare. Roach, right?”

“Hmm. You’ve been through my things?”

“Triss allowed me to wander the house and the grounds but then she forced me to bathe again when I came back in,” he frowned. “Soap does not agree with me and neither do these prickly, constricting clothes.”

“And your name?” Geralt asked, finally. “Since you have proven to know me already.”

“You may call me Jaskier,” the boy said, popping up from the couch. He offered his hand, which Geralt shook rather nervously. “And I’ve already decided that I’m going to be staying for awhile.”

“Why should I allow you to stay?” the young doctor bristled. “What have you to offer me in return for room and board?”

“I have no money, but I’m a wonderful gardener and I’m sure that there are, Dr. Bellegarde, other ways we can pass the time together. I sense that we are kindred spirits in many ways.”

Geralt blushed and swallowed hard, blinking down at the boy, whose fingers were playing with the material of the doctor’s cravat. His blue eyes peeked up through their bordering black lashes and Geralt’s will crumbled to dust. “Alright. I suppose you can stay; if it keeps the village safe.”

“Very safe,” the werewolf, Jaskier, smiled. His delicate little paw with its long, lithe fingers spread over the material of Geralt’s silk waistcoat, right over his heart. “So very safe, indeed.”

#geraskier #a very bouncey halloween #bouncey's halloween oneshots #werewolf jaskier #victorian era #hh munro #gabriel-ernest #doctor geralt #professor geralt #flirty jaskier #creature jaskier #inhuman jaskier #rich geralt #wealthy geralt #victorian au #witcher victorian au #werewolf au #romance

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parksvn · 4 years ago

Text

can’t you see me?

prince!jinyoung x apothecary!reader

wc: 3.4k+

Jinyoung showed up bloody on your door with his defenses completely down and half delirious. You knew that your feelings for him were entirely ridiculous, but then again the way he was acting made you question just how unrequited they were.

Jinyoung?

Here he is, standing on your doorstep in the pouring rain. His wet t-shirt clings to his body, pulling against the hard skin and muscle, and his chest heaves with effort. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he came all this way to declare his affections, to spill his heart on your doorstep.

But, of course, you knew better.

Just as those fairytale thoughts entered your mind, your eyes saw crimson, a trail of it, starting at his left abdomen and oozing down his pant leg. Every time. Every time he’s here because he won’t face the truth.

Every time you’re the fallback.

You’re tired of it.

Beads of rain dripped from his wet hair onto his pale face. Dark eyes stare back at you, guarded and magnetic. His unabashed glare sends your heart into a wild chase, but you reign it in, matching his stand-off nature with your own.

You’ve fallen into those eyes once.

Once. And once was more than enough.

“What?” Your lace your words with ice, hoping the impact will get him off your doorstep, hoping he’ll turn around and walk away. He doesn’t have to make this harder or more complicated than it already was.

He moves towards you, zoning in on your doorframe, ready to crowd you into a corner.

You want to cower. You want to roll into a tiny ball until he goes away and you don’t have to think about him or anything else that he drags along with him. You don’t belong in his world. You’re happy where you are.

Right?

Your neck curls into your chest for half-a-second, then you remember who you are. You pull your spine into a straight line and stare him down, glowering, hoping it’ll be enough to make him stop.

He pauses.

He takes another step and another, his feet drag against your porch and his body begins turning to mush. You see the weakness, the exhaustion underneath his eyes, in his shaky hands, in the way he moves so unrestrainedly.

It’s like he’s been inhabited by a ghost. The only thing that truly reminds you that he exists comes from the dark focus in his eyes. Like he’s a hunter. Like he’s found his perfect target and is calculating the best way to end its life.

But then he collapses, right into you, right onto your shoulder. His hands are disorganized as they search your clothing for something to cling onto, something to make his disintegration less painful. They find their place, grasping onto the fabric of the back of your shirt, squeezing you into him, until you can feel his warm breath skimming against your neck.

His wet hair leaves trails of water near your ear as the dampness of his clothes transfers to yours.

You pretend to care about how soaked you are now, you pretend to be absolutely disgusted and horrified, but you both know it’s just an act. You were never very good at acting.

Jinyoung was always amazing at it. He had to be. He was a prince after all.

You feel his heat and warmth through your shirt and feel a jolt through your spine. You haven’t responded, haven’t placed your hands on his torso at all. You’re waiting. You’re waiting until he asks for what he needs.

Until then, you owe him absolutely nothing, no matter what he’s doing to you now.

“Nowhere else to go.” He mumbles against your shoulder, his lips brushing your exposed skin. “Need help.” He buries into you further and the extra weight on your shoulders tells you that his legs are about to give out. His voice softens and he wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you deeper into a cage you’re only pretending you don’t want to be in. “Please.”

…

Please. Please. Really it’s a simple word. It shouldn’t be as effective as it is, but you know that for Jinyoung to say the phrase, the situation must be dire.

And that’s how you dragged him into your house and bandaged him up. The wound, likely from a knife fight in the street, tipped you off about a few things. One, he hadn’t learned from his mistake at the club last night, and two, that he wanted to die.

You’d warned him the minute that he stepped out of line, the minute that he didn’t follow orders, no matter how handsy they might have been with you, that they were going to hunt him down and kill him, prince or not. You knew the game, you knew that prying for information was going to be hard, that getting the men to talk was going to be difficult.

He wasn’t ready.

And you shouldn’t have taken him there.

Going up against thieves, people who could get around the trade embargoes and find the herbs you needed, was something you’ve done frequently. It’s not uncommon that you’re patching someone who conveniently “got in an accident.” You’re the town’s main healer, an unbiased helper of the people. But this time you surprisingly underestimated Jinyoung’s pride and overestimated his diligence to get the job done.

When he pushed the leader away from you, you knew the jig was up and so did he. You barely escaped with your lives and told him not to show up on your doorstep again or he would die. And here he was, good old Prince Jinyoung here to mess up everything and make it into a suicide mission while he was at it.

You fully intended to set him down on your couch in front of the fire for a little while, let him warm up while you got the supplies ready. But he refused to let you go, clinging onto you and dragging you down to the couch with him.

He laid on top of you for a little bit, too weak to even move and sucking up your body heat. His lips were never more than a few inches from your neck even with your best efforts to move away from him. You smoothed his hair from his face and searched for bleeding while the rainwater mixed with your skin.

Nothing so far, but he’s not out of the woods yet.

You let him sleep for about thirty minutes, cradling his head and drawing small circles against his back as you laid on your couch, soothing him to sleep, then you woke him up, roughly. Probably rougher than you needed to.

If he didn’t take a hot shower soon, he was going to be too sick to do anything. His fingers dug into your sides as you slipped out of his reach, moaning in annoyance, but you were stronger than his feeble attempts to keep you rooted in place. You turned and hauled him off the couch, slinging an arm over your shoulder. His cry in pain jolted him out of his stupor and you both limped down to your bathroom.

White tile with black ornamentation greeted you as you set him down on the edge of the tub, getting the hot water ready. You felt his probing gaze and spared a glance in his direction. His fingers were only inches away from your face.

You slapped them away. “Come on, Jinyoung. You don’t have to pretend that you care.” His eyes looked...hurt. He appeared genuinely offended. It was one of the first times that you saw him this upset that you wouldn’t just fall into him like you used to. Your worlds were different and they needed to stay that way. “Take off your clothes.”

His dark eyes flashed with surprise. You rolled your eyes and shook your hands, flinging water droplets back to their source. “You have to get in the bath or you’ll freeze.” You turned your back and walked into the hall, needing space from him and his emotional openness. “I’ll find you something to wear.”

When you came back, you heard the water sloshing around and creaked the door open, setting his change of clothes on the counter. “(name)?” His voice sounded small and it almost hurt to hear your stone tone against the soft way he called for you.

“What do you need?”

“Can you...just…?” He cleared his throat and went silent for a moment.

“Jinyoung, spit it out.”

“Can you stay by the door?” You sighed and closed your eyes. Really? This big baby who used to bully you all the time for the smallest things is asking you to sit by the door? What is he, five?

“What—?” You turned your head around. “No. I have to get food ready for you because if you don’t eat, you’re going to pass out.” He must have heard your boots recede because you hear his forceful effort in calling you back.

“(name)?” His voice is deeper, much more serious and you pause for just a second. “Just come back. Sit with me.”

Now you could walk in there and pay this huge crybaby any mind or you could go back to the kitchen and make his food so he could leave faster. That would be the smarter option, the safer play, but you were having a hard time making the move.

“Why? Give me one good reason I should give you the time of day after ruining my one connection to rare ingredients for the medicine that could probably save a lot of people.” You cross your arms and wait.

You hear silence. “Okay,” you mutter under your breath and turn away, walking to the living room.

“I don’t. I can’t give you a good reason. I’ve been awful to you and I know I messed up. I don’t have enough reasons to convince you to justify being here and taking care of me. I don’t have really anything to say to justify my own. I just know I don’t want to do this alone.”

You walked straight into that bathroom and plopped down beside him, hand out, waiting for his own, and grasped it tightly. He held onto your hand so tightly that you were sure he was cutting off your circulation, but you were fine with it. His touch communicated what words couldn’t say.

…

After he got changed and joined you in the kitchen while you were making him soup, he was surprisingly silent. Normally he’d be chewing you out for going to such dangerous places, hanging out with such secretive people, committing such illegal activities, but no words of judgment echoed off the walls.

When you turned around, he was much closer than you originally thought. You took him in, examining his hair, the redness of warmth in his cheeks, his softened eyes, his broad shoulders. He’ll live.

You walked over to him, pulled his shirt up, and examined the bandage. It was tight enough not to slide but not to the point where he would feel suffocated. Your fingers skimmed over the white fabric while his stare subconsciously warmed the back of your neck. He responded to your touch, tensing slightly when your fingers applied a small amount of pressure, before relaxing, giving you permission to continue. When you were satisfied, you slid his navy tee back down.

He was leaning into you and as you stepped away you noticed the way he swung back. You almost smirked and got a sample of the soup, walked back over to him, and held it up to his lips.

His eyebrows shot up, but when he saw the tilt of your head and your open eyes prodding him along, he opened his mouth as you gently lifted the spoon. He stared at you the whole time. You watched as the flavors hit his tongue, his eyes shifting in wonder and amazement.

Is it good? your eyes asked.

He nodded and smiled. You turned to get a bowl when Jinyoung beat you to it, reaching above you to grab two. When you fully turned around, he had his hands on either side of you, his eyes boring into you.

He inched closer and you felt yourself take a breath instinctively. His gaze slipped down to your lips before looking back at you. “I still affect you.” He breathed out inching closer. A flame started in your stomach, but you ignored it.

Swallowing, you scoffed. “Duh.” You looked away from him and tried to breathe normally. Of course, he still affected you. You were affected by him the moment you met him. Time would only dull the intensity in the proximity. However, time would never erase his control over you this close.

He brought a hand to your cheek and drew your eyes back to his. He moved quickly, your noses touching, breathing in the same air. You froze.

Is this really happening? And you’re about to let it?

He seemed conflicted for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth contorted into a focused line. You nearly pulled away right there, but, as if he sensed your hesitation, he closed the gap.

He kissed you hard in the beginning, pressing you into the counter behind you. Your fingers clenched the hard surface. It was taking everything in you not to touch him. You didn’t want him to win, but you were losing. You felt your hands start to loosen.

No.

His lips started moving, roaming over yours as he slid his hand to cup your neck, the other placed on your waist, drawing you closer, allowing him easier access. Your heart started speeding.

No.

When his lips left yours to place warm kisses down your jaw, you jumped away from him, placing at least six feet between you and him. Your lips felt puffy already and you knew they were red. But that had nothing on the shock in his eyes or the dark way his eyes traced your figure as you started moving away from him, shaking your head furiously.

“I’m not doing this. I’m not becoming another pawn for you to push around.” You watched as he tried to get closer to you and failed. Your voice started cracking as tears welled in your eyes, your emotions coming to the surface. “I’m tired of always being there for you just for you to abandon me when you find something better. I’m tired of you always scolding me for doing what I want with me. I’m tired of being second place.” His eyes changed, hardening to volcanic rock, and you knew then that you’d won, that you were finally speaking a language he understood.

“I’m going to live my life the way I want to, without you, and without anyone who sees me as the backup plan. I can’t be the person you always come to when things get hard, when no one is there to put you back together again. I refuse. No more, Jinyoung. No more.”

“Why—How could you think that you were somehow second place?” He walks closer to you but you back up till you hit the wall. “(name), why do you think I’m here all the time? Why do you think I always hover? Why do you think I nag all the time?”

“Because you’re awful.” You wipe the tears and slide away from him. “Stop crowding me.” The words are more forceful than you intended, but he seems to get the hint.

He pauses in his pursuit but the pleading look in his eyes doesn’t go away. “Why? Because I didn’t think that you were valuable? Because I hated you?”

“You have a girlfriend.”

“Had.” Your eyes widen at this. “And we were betrothed. I didn’t want that. I wanted it to be my choice.” He backs up, sitting on the edge of the couch as he retraces his memories, making the connections clear to you. “I thought that I would be able to hide it, that if I just stayed away I could ignore it. But even Haru saw through it too. She saw it when I came over all the time, when I couldn’t just leave you alone, when I would stay up all night worrying about you.” He treaded through the room now, moving close enough to touch you, but instead of reaching out, he kept his hands fully at his sides. “Do you really think that I ignored you for weeks because I used you?”

“I don’t get it. You just disappeared. What was I supposed to think?” Why did you leave?

He bit his lip and turned away. ”I was trying not to get you hurt. They obviously figured out who I was and the best way to keep you safe was getting away.” His gaze was unsure now, less focused, and determined than it was before. You saw a hand weave up to his neck, scratching absentmindedly at it. “I’m sorry for going so quickly. I should have said something.”

You nodded and returned to the soup, crossing back into the kitchen and ladling the soup into two bowls. Your heart raced for a second, remembering the events of a second ago before you dropped spoons into each bowl. Taking a breath, you closed your eyes.

He was probably telling the truth. For everything that Jinyoung wasn’t, he was good to the people. People knew him as firm but fair, caring, and generous when he could be. You saw his potential to act kind in certain situations, but you also saw the dark, lying person he could be.

You were conflicted. He appeared open and kind, sincere in his words and his intentions with you, but in the back of your mind, you still saw the concealed shadow that lingered there.

“Eat.” You said as you laid a bowl down in front of him. He froze for a moment, watching you with confusion, before deciding it was safe to sit and drink the soup.

You returned to your stance near the counter, drinking the hot meal standing. The soup had a special combination of herbs to promote healing and skin reproduction. He would be fine in no time.

But the bigger question remained: What in the world was he doing around your neighborhood? Your house, made of wood and logs, stood somewhere off the beaten path, the closet tavern was about 2 miles east, in town. Your home was tucked among the forest, sheltered by foliage and wood.

There was no reason for him to trek all the way out here when town remained so much closer.

He sipped his soup politely, before watching your face morph. Your eyes narrowed and your brow furrowed. “What is it?” He stood, placing the bowl down. “What’s wrong?”

“Why are you here?” Your eyes were black as night, guarded, warning.

“What do you mean?” His head turned to the side as if he was asked a question in school and didn’t know the answer.

“Jinyoung, the closest town is nearly an hour’s carriage ride from here.” You set your bowl down. “What are you doing all the way out here? Why would you come all this way? Why would come to a place that you know wants you dead.”

His eyes flashed for a moment before he responded, “you don’t. You’ve seen all of the horrible things I’ve done and you still tolerate me. You still somehow take me in, even when you don’t want to. You have never turned your back on me, not once.”

“That’s not helping your case.” You grumble and he frowns in confusion.

“No, (name). It is because you have never left me behind that’s the point. Despite how much I wanted to leave you alone, to not disturb your peace, I couldn’t. I was always waiting around for your letters, listening for news about you, anxious to hear if your house was caught in the storms. For the better half of my life, I was watching over you, making sure no harm came your way.” He steps closer and you no longer feel anger by his proximity.

You intentionally let him get close because his eyes aren’t lying now.

“I hadn’t heard from you in five days. I know there are men after you in the town because I sent scouts ahead to check.” You have to look up to see him now. “I came here because I was losing my mind at the thought that something happened to you. Prince or not.”

“Oh.” You nodded and looked down, leaning against the counter again.

So he did feel the same way. Or, at least, something like that.

His voice came out in a soft whisper, his breath gently skimming against your face, his nose nearly pressing against yours. “I am entirely incapable of staying away from you.” You blinked. “Can I kiss you now?”

You almost laughed. Always so cheesy.

You closed the gap for him.

#jinyoung fic #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung drabble #jinyoung got7 #parksvn #jinyoung imagine

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kbstories · 4 years ago

Text

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Provisional License Exam & Aftermath, The Boys Are Fighting And Everything Hurts

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Additional content warning for bad communication, emotional breakdowns and general anxiousness. Chapter 9.

***

“Oi. Kiri.”

Another heap of sugar goes into Kirishima’s mug. He stirs a bit, then licks caramel-sweet goodness off the spoon. Perfect. With a content hum, he leans further into the embrace of his favorite armchair.

“Mmyeah?”

Across from him, Bakugou sips his own coffee. Looking all kinds of cozy from his perch by the window, shoes off, U.A.’s uniform narrowed down to just the shirt and pants. Only Iida and Momo have made it down to the common room yet, yawning their way through breakfast with last-minute notes spread out over the kitchen counter.

Their quiet conversation is mere background noise for them. It’s a familiar enough routine that neither duo exchanged more than acknowledging nods before settling into their preferred corners.

Bakugou toes the wood of the windowsill with socked feet, hands calm around his mug. His gaze idles on a group of sparrows outside.

“By this time tomorrow, we’ll be heroes.” Soft-spoken, the words nonetheless sound as solid as ever.

“Provisional ones”, Kirishima reminds him, a mix of excitement and nerves making his leg bounce, the carpet underneath ruffling with the motion. There’s still an exam to pass between then and now. “But still. Licensed and everything.”

“Mh”, Bakugou breathes into his coffee. He sends Kirishima a wry look over its rim. “Nervous?”

Thinking on it for a moment, Kirishima smiles. “Nah, not really. We worked our asses off for it. Like, we totally got this.”

Bakugou’s smirk comes swift and it stays: a dare for the world to do its worst, a promise to come out on top despite it all. Kirishima offers him his fist and Bakugou meets him in the middle, used to the gesture by now. Sparks crackle over rock-hewn skin.

“Damn right we do.”

The names flicker on the screen and Kirishima searches.

K, K, Ki, Kiri– There! Kirishima Eijirou.

“Hell yes”, he cheers, the doubts clinging to his heart dropping all the way to his feet. The second he’s got his phone back, he’ll scream-yell a voice message to his moms – finally, finally, Red Riot will exist out there. In reality, not just his wildest dreams.

Automatically, Kirishima jumps to the beginning of the list.

B, Ba, Baku–

Next to him, Bakugou sucks in a breath. That, more than anything, brings his head crashing from the clouds and straight to the ground, to the spot on that list where Bakugou’s name should be but isn’t. Kirishima frowns, his eyes scanning the row starting with B one more time.

“Dude, what…?” No Bakugou Katsuki. “No way.”

One glimpse, that’s all he gets. One glance at Bakugou’s face and that expression Kirishima recognizes from the longest night of his life, that déjà vu of devastation and loss a sucker punch nailing Kirishima right in the gut–

Before he can reach out, it’s gone. Bakugou grits his teeth and juts his chin up, and any trace of it is replaced by anger. Cold, lethal, seeping into squared shoulders and brows drawn deep enough to cast his gaze in shadows.

“Katsu–”

A harsh tch interrupts him, followed by a softer “Congrats, Riot” mumbled in Kirishima’s direction. Bakugou won’t meet his eyes, though, and when Kirishima’s fingers brush Bakugou’s, he crosses his arms instead.

“Thanks”, Kirishima mumbles back, all thoughts of celebrating dead and gone. He doesn’t try to reach out again.

1-A spills into the common room as one, smiles and laughter all around. The air previously heavy with anticipation now carries only relief, that clean petrichor taste that follows a downpour at the height of summer.

Despite the stone weight of worry in his stomach, Kirishima laughs along with them. He leans into the lanky arm Sero drapes across his shoulders and returns the fist bump Jirou offers him before Kaminari tackle-hugs the three of them towards the couches.

“Smash tournament! Now!”

“It is our last night off before the new term”, Jirou supplies with a shrug. A thoughtful look is cast towards Bakugou, turning sly as it meets Kaminari’s. “Though, may I propose: Rock Band?”

“Ohhh”, coos Sero, joined by an enthusiastic nod by Kaminari. “Whoo yeah! U.A.’s best fake guitarist, reporting for duty!”

Kirishima loves his friends, he really does. If there’s one thing Bakugou has consistently enjoyed during their hangouts, it’s violently crushing them via the e-drum set he brought from home. That thing shows some serious signs of wear, too, the silicone cover warped or even torn in places.

(The high score list features his name like five times before their resident runner-up – Shouji, surprisingly – even makes an appearance, additional limb advantage and all.)

“I’m in. Wanna duo, Jack?” Jirou gives Kirishima a thumbs-up from where she’s already setting up the microphones. He turns around. “Nitro, you–?”

Bakugou isn’t next to him anymore. Before Kirishima can ask, he hears Mina call out, “Blasty, where are you going?”, and follows the question to Bakugou’s turned back clearly headed for the elevators.

“Room”, Bakugou answers, clipped, rough. The glare he throws over his shoulder might as well be lines of caution tape fluttering in the wind, storm sirens howling in the distance. Keep out. “Have fun playing your shitty game.”

Kirishima sees the hurricane about to hit a second before Mina makes a grab for Bakugou’s wrist, determination shining in black-rimmed eyes. “It’s Rock Band”, she tells him, meeting the snarl on Bakugou’s face with stubborn compassion. “You love Rock Band.”

“What do you know, hah?” Bakugou snaps, tugging away. “Fucking– Get off me!”

Mina’s grip tightens, Bakugou’s hand is raised – familiar, so familiar, that glint of rage in blood-red pupils – and Kirishima is on his feet, pulling Mina behind himself to shield her from an explosion that never comes.

It’s a close call, though. Kirishima feels the heat coming off Bakugou’s palm, the wince he tries to hide when he clenches it to a fist instead.

“This isn’t your fight, Shark Teeth. Back off.”

“Bakugou.”

Firm, resolute. Kirishima’s voice is like volcanic glass: smooth on the surface, jagged around the edges. There’s a warning in there, too, his jaw clenched just as tightly as Bakugou’s. “Not cool, man. Mina’s just trying to help.”

Bakugou huffs at the mere notion of that. “Well, Mina can fuck right off. I don’t need shit from any of you.”

The truth is: Bakugou is different with Kirishima, he’s always been. Even now Kirishima can see him shift his weight, change gears in his mind, the door so firmly shut for others left ajar for him.

Bakugou only listens because it’s Kirishima speaking and he hates it, sometimes. Like his word counts above everyone else’s when it doesn’t, it shouldn’t.

“Look, I get why you’re pissed off but it’s not our fault, either. Alright? There’s no point in acting like this, dude.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow, that sliver of a chance snuffed out of existence. A vicious sneer takes its place. “Acting like what? Like myself? Give me a break.”

“Guys”, Mina cuts in, sounding meek, uncomfortable. Bakugou doesn’t get to do that, not when he’s proven he’s better than that, time and time again – not when he’s careful with his quirk, when he’s stopped hiding that genuine smile that’s getting less and less rare, when he helps and soothes and pretends not to care and cares so fucking much.

Around them most of the class shuffles along, hovering on the sidelines. Kirishima can feel the looks, the hushed whispers ready to burst into existence, the fidgety sort of concern radiating from Midoriya in waves.

He ignores them all, looking Bakugou dead in the eye when he says: “No, Katsuki, like an asshole. It’s not like you at all.”

Behind him, Mina whispers, “Stop, Kiri, it’s okay.” From the couches come hisses of surprise, a murmured “Woah, dude” that sounds like Kaminari. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that it hurts. It hurts to see Bakugou flinching like he’s been physically struck. To see emotion spill through the cracks in his armor, cracks Kirishima put there. But Bakugou listens when it’s him, and if there’s one thing he needs to hear, it’s this.

“Like, I get it. I know how it feels, you of all people know that. And extra lessons suck ass, believe me.” Kirishima takes a deep breath, letting go of his anger on the exhale until there’s only resolve, that strength he’s fostered and made his own with Bakugou at his side.

“But lashing out at people won’t fix anything. The stuff holding you back – it’s all you, man, that’s what you gotta work on. You’re the manliest person I know, so you’ll definitely get there, and then you’ll keep going until you’re Number One. There’s not a single doubt in my mind that’s how it’s gonna go. But it’s up to you to make sure it does.”

Bakugou is staring at him, pale-faced and still. He opens his mouth. “You done?”, he asks, his voice ground into something raw, something tired.

“Yeah”, Kirishima tells him, gentle again. “Yeah, I think I am.”

A nod. Bakugou glances past him, for a moment, at the ball of tension behind Kirishima that is Mina. Another nod, more hesitant.

“Blasty, I–”

Without another word, Bakugou leaves, shouldering past Midoriya on his way out. Kirishima watches him go and wonders if doing the right thing always feels so much like regret.

I fucked up.

Bundled up in his covers, Kirishima sits on his bed and stares at the wall. The cheerful colors and big exclamation points on his posters are little more than a blur, made obscure by the dark of night settling in around him.

The light switch is just across the room yet impossibly far away. Kirishima’s phone buzzes; the screen comes alive with a notification. It goes ignored.

I fucked up.

Kirishima’s gaze falls to the license in his hands, bland-looking next to the busy camo pattern of his favorite blanket. Red Riot, it says in bold letters under his name, date of birth and affiliation to U.A. – issued today, with the picture they took before they changed into their hero costumes. Himself, grinning with too much teeth, his hair freshly dyed and spiked to the heavens, his uniform done up meticulously.

It feels like a year ago that Bakugou rolled his eyes and fixed his collar, muttering something about ‘looking okay for once’. In turn, Kirishima had nudged and prodded him until he put on his tie, which lasted not one second beyond the flash of the camera.

But–

You done?

The card is small, unassuming, really. Kirishima blinks. One tear, then two pearl over flawless plastic. Three, four, head bowed as they drip, drip, drip down the tip of his nose.

Today wasn’t supposed to go like this. They were supposed to get their licenses, take the night off, sing and laugh and headbang to their audience of pixelated metalheads and forget the world for a while.

It was supposed to be about them, about the dream they shared over coffee this morning. About the future they’re reaching for, together.

Kirishima wants to toss the license to places unknown, wants to tell himself that it means nothing but it does. He waited for this moment longer than he cares to trace back, a long time, definitely. All that hard work, the sweat and blood he shed for it – perhaps it’s only right he adds tears to the mix.

Gods, I fucked up so bad.

He sniffs wetly, sets the card aside. There’s a spot for it in his wallet, he made sure of that as they stepped off the bus. Still, he needs to keep it in sight, like object permanence stops being a thing where one’s hero status is concerned.

Again, buzz buzz, his phone rattles quietly against wood. With a shuddering breath, Kirishima reaches for it, reads Simply Mina and 🦊 Eevee Squad 🦊 and swipes right until his home screen is just Riot’s canine smile again. All it does is remind him of an afternoon spent out in the yard, of a snoring dog and gentle touches to soft fur.

Two taps, and he’s back where he started: Staring at fond, red eyes in the corner and the unanswered messages underneath. Kirishima’s lips start to tremble.

Best Bakubro 💣💥

hey (sent 18:12)

can we talk? (sent 18:12)

i’m sorry (sent 18:30)

i’m so fucking sorry baku idk what i was thinking (sent 18:31)

just. please (sent 18:35)

idk what to do (sent 18:35)

katsuki? (sent 19:01)

The last three are still unread. Kirishima had just calmed himself down from the panicked jolt of blue ticks and grey ticks and Bakugou’s gone when a door had slammed shut hard enough to rattle Kirishima’s desk.

Kirishima wanted to go out there. He wanted to catch up to Bakugou and explain himself and make things right; instead he’d stayed right where he was and listened to his distinct stomp growing more and more faint like the coward he is.

There’s been nothing but silence ever since.

“Stop”, Kirishima whispers, a strangled, pathetic noise amidst the tears sliding down his cheeks. “Just s-stop. Fucking stop.” Tilting his head back, he knocks it against the wall, hoping against all hope that he’ll stop crying, that this shivering, miserable thing in his chest will relent and let him breathe for a bit.

Instead, he clenches his eyes shut and lets out a choked sob. It’s followed by another, another, until Kirishima presses his face into the blanket and gives in.

Hands fisting in loose hair, he curls in on himself, head tucked against his knees and desperately gasping for air. The walls are thick but not that thick – Shouji can probably hear him, if he’s even in, and Kirishima silently begs him to stay away. To be allowed to break in private like he’s done a thousand times before, after every moment he spent frozen in place, every time he didn’t act fast enough or act at all.

Were you scared?

He hadn’t been. For once in his life, Kirishima hadn’t been afraid – he’d been angry, furious even, hopeful and disappointed and worried and he’d fucked up because of it. That moment Bakugou shut up and just… took whatever Kirishima had to say is burned into his brain, aching and tender to the touch. Kirishima can’t stop putting his finger on it, though, like revisiting it will make it sting less, somehow.

It doesn’t.

Time is a fickle concept. Kirishima is aware it passes, he’s aware his blanket is soaked, that his back hurts and his heart hurts and his head, too. He’s back to blankly looking at his wall and seeing nothing, only interrupted by an occasional sniffle, when–

The snap of a lock turning, a door opening and closing, much quieter than before.

A glance to his clock tells him it’s an hour to midnight and way past curfew. The worry he felt earlier rekindles, glows bright enough to overshadow any other emotion swirling within him. It’s not like Bakugou to be up this late. It’s not like him to break rules like this.

It’s not like you at all.

Roughly, Kirishima rubs his arm over his face. Enough crying. Enough hiding away. Bakugou deserves better than public callouts and texts sent in a panic. Kirishima promised himself he’d be better – it’s worth next to nothing if he can’t keep it.

That fact doesn’t prevent his heart from beating half-way up his throat by the time he slips out his door and stands in front of Bakugou’s. His hand shakes as it’s raised to knock; Kirishima wills it to steady and raps his knuckles against wood, mindful of the late hour.

“Bakugou?”

Nothing.

“Listen, I…” Kirishima breathes through the squirming of guilt in his gut. “I messed up, man. I know you’re in there and if you’d rather not see me, that’s fine. But I know I hurt you a-and I want to apologize if… if you’ll let me.”

Wringing his hands, he blinks heavily and wills himself not to tear up again. Bakugou has every right to shut him out; it’s up to Kirishima to do what he should’ve done in the first place and respect his wishes.

It’s a reality he doesn’t have to face, however – the knob turns and the door cracks open the slightest bit. When it doesn’t move beyond that, Kirishima pushes for it to open further, sticking his head through the gap.

“Nitro?”

Silhouetted by his bedside lamp, Bakugou is tossing up his covers to properly burrow inside them. “Get your ass in here already”, he says over his shoulder, a bite to his tone Kirishima recognizes from their early days. “And close the door. It’s fucking late.”

He practically jumps to the task. “Okay, yeah, sorry!” Once the door clicks shut, Kirishima shuffles his feet, wanting to get closer but unsure if he’s allowed. Carefully, he makes his way over and stops, half a step in the circle of light cast around Bakugou’s bed.

“So. Um…” His hand brushes red strands behind his ear. His palms are sweaty. “I–”

“Did you mean it?”

Bakugou doesn’t even sound angry; Kirishima would definitely deserve it if he was. He’s unsure if that no-bullshit edge is any better, though, swallowing heavily. “Yeah. Well, kinda. The– the words were right but…” He clenches his hands to fists, brings his gaze up to look at him.

Kirishima’s eyes widen. The rest of that sentence flees from his mind entirely.

“What…?”

Scrapes, bruises, gauze stuck to both cheeks, bandages wrapped around both arms. Back to the wall, legs loosely crossed in front of him, Bakugou looks like he went a round or five with a superpowered bobcat, dried blood clinging to some of the many scratches on his skin.

Yet his eyes are focused, pinning Kirishima with the same precision with which he handles everything in life. “But?”

“Bakugou! What happened?!”

“Picked a fight.” A sharp sniff. Bakugou shrugs like he couldn’t care less. “‘s none of your business. Answer my question.”

Ouch. Kirishima doesn’t linger on that, he can’t, too busy mentally cataloguing the damage and trying not to drag Bakugou to the infirmary ASAP. Which–

“We gotta– Recovery Girl. She’ll heal you right up.”

Bakugou huffs a laugh, no humor in it whatsoever. “Already went. It’s done. Answer the fucking question, Kirishima.”

It’s incredibly hard to unstick his mind from whatever the hell happened there. Like a wrestling match with his own thoughts, struggling to get them on the wrong set of tracks despite his brain frantically gesturing towards Bakugou.

Kirishima rubs his palms over his face, pats his cheeks none-too-gently for good measure. Focus.

“Right. Yes, I meant what I said. It’s– Mina isn’t me, Baku. She can’t take your anger like I can, okay? They… they were just trying to cheer you up and you were out of line. But–”

Bakugou’s gaze isn’t letting him go, intense like they’re mid-battle and he’s trying to figure out Kirishima’s next move. Guard all the way up. Kirishima drops his hands, wide open.

“Your day was already crappy enough without me putting you on the spot like that. You said you wanted to go and I forced you to stay and deal with even more stuff because I was angry and worried and… Yeah. I went about it all wrong and I’m sorry.”

Those damn tears are lurking at the corners of his eyes, itching and burning but Kirishima fights them off. He nods to the ground.

“I really let you down. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Kirishima waits. For a moment that feels eternal, he stands there with his head bowed and his fingers clinging to the edge of his shirt. He fully expects to be met with silence until he gets the memo and leaves.

Then Bakugou sighs.

“You look like hell, y’know that? Your eyes are all puffy and shit.”

Wincing, Kirishima nods again. “I know.” He peeks up through the gaps in his hair.

Bakugou huffs, exasperated and so much more like himself. “Don’t give me that. I’m still pissed at you.”

There. A chance. All it takes is a leap of faith. “But?”, Kirishima asks quietly.

“But nothing, fucker. I’m pissed, full stop.” A glower that would make a quirked-up Aizawa proud. Bakugou crosses his arms; Kirishima ducks his head. “You’re lucky you’re you or I’d have kicked your ass straight to whichever place stupid potato dogs like you go to when they die.”

Don’t laugh. Kirishima bites his lip. Half a second later, a pillow smacks his shoulder with impressive force.

“Shut up. I got it, okay? I know I’m”, a pause filled with teeth grinding audibly, “difficult, I guess. And an asshole. I know all that.”

The urge to laugh is replaced by a shot of vertigo, like Kirishima missed a step down a flight of stairs. Their eyes meet, and Bakugou glares.

“It’s what you said. Don’t you dare take it back now.”

“But that’s not what I mea–”

“Tough shit, bitch, ‘cause that’s what I got from it. It’s fine, okay? If someone’s gonna call me out on my bullshit it’s gotta be you. It’s just–”

Bakugou drops his hands in his lap, staring at the bandages running up to his elbows. There are blisters on his right palm, visible even in the half-dark.

“Not in front of everyone?”, Kirishima offers in a small voice.

A tense breath. “Yeah. Makes me wanna blow up and lose my shit for real.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said that. I told you it’s fucking fine.”

“But–”

“Eijirou.”

Kirishima’s heart squeezes. Bakugou looks so exhausted and it’s all his fault. Still, he mumbles, “Okay”, and he wordlessly swears on everything he holds dear that he’ll listen, next time. That he’ll trust Bakugou to do the right thing and stay in control.

“Okay.” Bakugou’s eyes are on him again, less heavy now. “I don’t wanna talk about the fight, either.”

Kirishima’s hands clench, not tight enough to rip into the fabric but close enough. “At all or…?”

“Not sure yet. Definitely not tonight.”

“Okay”, Kirishima repeats. It’s not forever. He can handle anything if it’s not forever. “Um. Are we cool? I get it if… not. I can leave, too. Whatever you want.”

Unexpectedly, Bakugou groans, almost… amused? “Screw you. I should be milking the fuck outta this but… Yeah, we’re cool.”

Oh. Kirishima can’t help the way his resolve wobbles with how relieved he is, keeping his shaky inhale as stealthy as possible. He fucked up and his best friend doesn’t hate him. They’re gonna be okay.

“Kiri…”

There’s a strange expression on Bakugou’s face, pinched and frustrated-looking. His eyes are soft, though. Concerned. “Stop crying, you big baby. C’mere. And bring my pillow, I actually need it.”

Kirishima keeps it casual. He grabs the pillow and pads over instead of running. He tosses it in Bakugou's lap, earning a grumbled, “Thanks.”

Almost casual. There’s an attempt, at least, chucked right out the window the second Bakugou sort-of-maybe-kind-of indicates the possibility of a hug. Then he’s throwing himself on the bed, the sight of raw skin and gauze-white turning his tackle into a marginally gentler embrace of Bakugou’s shoulders.

Bakugou squeezes back, brutally tight. “Hold back on me again and I’m kicking you out.”

A wheeze of breath turns into hushed laughter. “I’ll do better.” Kirishima tucks his face against Bakugou’s neck and sniffles. “I’ll be good, Nitro, I swear.”

Bakugou knocks their heads together, too gentle to even register as that. His lips against Kirishima’s temple, he mumbles, “You already are, idiot. One dumb mistake won’t change that.”

>>Chapter 9.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #bnha fanfiction #this fic is also on AO3!!#baku is soft - a longfic #my stuff

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