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rambling-at-midnight · 4 months ago

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omg a part 2????

i loved it so much!!!

Ahh I'm so glad you liked it!!! It's my first Jason x reader fic :) Here's a part 2!

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks (Part 2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Civilian!Reader

Summary: Now it’s time for a meet-ugly-ish with some dude named Jason. Also, you see the Red Hood again.

Word count: 6.3k (holy shit)

You’re not crazy, right? It’s weird that the library is completely empty because it closes in two hours and the weather is actually nice outside for once, and some random dude wanders in and sets up two seats down from you. He’s not even here to study; he pulled out a sci-fi novel as soon as he sat down.

Who comes to a GCU campus library to read recreationally? The seats are uncomfortable and plastic. And the sun is shining. Everyone else is outside soaking up the Vitamin D.

Honestly, you’re mostly surprised the chair he’s on didn’t snap as soon as he sat. The dude is huge. Football player huge. Shouldn’t he be at practice, instead of forcing the chair to make the most irritating squeaking noises known to man every time he moves an inch?

You grit your teeth and put on your headphones, but you can still hear the poor chair’s dying lamentations, so you turn on an instrumental playlist that hopefully won’t distract you too much from studying.

You let yourself stew over the annoyance until your stomach growls so loud you hear it over the soft music. He has the good grace not to look at you, but you definitely see him pause.

Okay, you’ll call it even. This is what you get for running to the library right after six hours of classes. You need to cement the knowledge in your mind while it’s still fresh, and if that means you have to forego lunch…

He’s still there two hours later when the closing time alarm goes off. It’s a shrill old-school bell, the kind no one can ignore, and he jumps like he’s never heard it in his life. The poor chair finally gives up. He tumbles to the ground.

You look over in case he needs any help, but he’s scrambling for the book, face bright red.

If he is a football player, you wouldn’t be surprised that he’s never heard the bell before. That sort rarely stays this late at the library—if they enter at all.

He rushes out. You pack up a little more methodically. All that’s left for you to look forward to tonight is trying to study in your apartment, but you never have much luck.

He’s outside the library on his phone when you walk out. Maybe waiting for a ride? You’re a little on edge from the events of two days ago, so you watch him out of the corner of your eye as you walk away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t follow you.

At least the library closes earlier on Wednesdays, 6 pm instead of 9:30. You don’t know why. It’s still a weekday. But it forces you out while the sun’s still shining, which is probably a good thing.

Within two minutes of the twenty-minute walk home, your hip hurts. By the ten-minute mark, you’re trying not to limp.

Despite your better judgment, you keep your gaze turned to the rooftops, even though you know the vigilantes are nocturnal. It’s stupid to want to see a flash of red helmet, anyway. The Red Hood probably saves hundreds of people every week; there’s no way he would remember you.

Of course, when you finally get back, there are the stairs to contend with.

Your cat, that ungrateful little beast, beeps at you furiously for being gone so long. Never mind that your roommate works nights, so at most the cat’s been alone for an hour. He makes a break for the hallway, and you box the doorway with your legs and slam the door closed against your hip as you slip through.

Your injury explodes with pain, but at least the cat doesn’t get out. Ungrateful little beast. As if he isn’t fed and loved enough.

You finish slipping through the doorway and just stand for a moment listening to the blood rushing through your ears. Damn, but that hurt.

In the bathroom mirror, you hike up the hem of your shirt and check the state of your injury.

All in all, it could have been much worse. The bullet scooped out a fair chunk of skin, but it was just a surface wound. There’s no fresh blood on the gauze, and when you change the wrappings, the skin is pink and raw but starting to scab. It scooped out a chunk and left a trail of bruising, but you got off fairly lightly, all things considered.

The GCPD released the robber’s mugshot yesterday morning. In the picture, the man’s eyes were so swollen from your pepper spray he could hardly open them.

You preferred the bullet, honestly.

You try in vain to study a bit more, but even after you take more painkillers, you’re not in the mood. You feed your cat, then curl up on the couch to watch a couple episodes of the show you’re currently in the middle of.

That was the first time you see the huge guy, but it’s certainly not the last.

You wouldn’t notice him so much if he wasn’t the size of a damn refrigerator. He’s gotta be a linebacker for the Knights, but he’s not on their roster. You looked it up after the third time he wandered into the library just a couple minutes after you. It’s probably not updated yet, but you see him so often, you’d like to know his name.

Also, he’d bleached a patch of hair right at the front of his head—was that a trend now, or something?—so it wasn’t hard to spot him.

On Saturday, your feelings shift from mild annoyance and curiosity to a sinking sort of dread when you notice him at the coffeeshop you always visit on the weekends. The employees know you by name and use it to call out your order, so now he knows it, as long as he’s paying attention.

You think he might be.

You don’t want to be that person. Not everything in the world revolves around you, obviously. But you might still be shaken from what happened on Monday, because the thought wiggles in the back of your brain: what if you have a stalker?

You try to tell yourself that it’s just paranoia. GCU isn’t that big a campus, after all, and there are only so many places in the city that are: A. close to campus, B. reasonably priced, and C. comfortable to work in. You’ve run into classmates here before, and you don’t have a monopoly on the library or this coffeeshop. Just because he shows up at the same time you do doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He might be establishing a schedule that just so happens to line up with yours.

But, you have to admit, it is easier for stalkers to stalk people when they know their regular schedule.

You keep a watchful eye out and are pretty good about keeping off the streets after dark, but a week and a half later finds you stranded an hour’s walk from your apartment. The buses worked for two days, then shut down again, and you foolishly believed that following the detour that said would get you home would actually get you home. You don’t want to call an Uber because traffic would make the ride longer than the walk and bankrupt you in the process. Same reason you can’t call anyone to pick you up unless you waited the two hours until rush hour dies down.

Walking is, unfortunately, the best option.

So you clutch your trusty pepper spray and prepare yourself for a long night of looking over your shoulder and ignoring the pain in your side. The wound has mostly closed, although the bruising has gotten worse.

Three minutes later, you hear the roar of a motorcycle followed by angry car honks. You barely pay it any mind until the motorcycle pulls up next to you and doesn't pass.

You keep walking, avoiding eye contact. Maybe ignoring them will dissuade the rider from catcalling you.

It doesn't work. "Hey," the rider says, and it's only because the voice is mechanically distorted, recognizable only because of how many videos of him that you won't admit to looking up the last week, that you look at him. "What are you doing?" asks the Red Hood.

"What are you doing?" you counter. He's blocking the flow of traffic talking to you.

The Red Hood looks over his shoulder, flips off the person honking behind him, and steers his motorcycle onto the sidewalk. He drives fast, and you flinch in case he tries to run you over, but he screeches to a halt at the last second.

"Haven't seen you in a couple of weeks," he says casually, like you two meet up often.

"I've been staying out of trouble," you say.

"Not tonight?"

"No. That wasn't my fault, though. I took the Southwest bus because it was supposed to connect with the L line, but all the signs they posted were a lie, apparently, because—" You cut yourself off. "Never mind, I'm sure you don't care. Point is, I'm walking home. It's not too far."

"It's about an hour," he points out. "How's your bullet wound? Will it object to that walk?"

"I'll be fine."

He pats the back of his motorcycle seat. "Hop on. I'll drive you."

You take a couple hasty steps back. It may not be a white van, but you know better than to follow candy into someone's vehicle. "Oh, no, thanks. Traffic's pretty bad right now."

You get the sense he's smiling when he says, "I bet I can get you back faster than walking." If only he wasn't wearing the stupid shiny helmet, you would be able to read his expressions better.

"Really, I'm okay. I'm sure you have better things to do than drive me home."

"Helping people is literally my job," is his response. "I have to make sure you get home safely. So either you get on the back of my bike, or I follow you the whole walk back to your apartment."

You know a losing battle when you see it. As a general rule of thumb, it's usually smart not to argue with the dude carrying at least two guns. "Don't kidnap me," you order before slinging your leg over the seat.

He chuckles. It's the first time you've ever heard him laugh, and it makes him sound so much younger. "You can't ride like that."

"Like what?"

He cranes his neck to look back at you. There's at least six inches between both your bodies. You clutch the sides of the seat with both your hands, hoping he doesn't take off with such a lurch that you topple off the back. "I drive fast. You'll have to hold on."

"I am holding on."

"To me."

You've only met the man twice. You're pretty sure clinging to someone's back is at least a third-meeting type of touch, but he reaches back. The Red Hood snakes a hand nearly twice the size of yours into the crook of your knee, then yanks you to him. You shoot forward with a strangled yelp and catch yourself on his back.

You've never before understood the phrase 'wall of muscle,' but you get it now.

He is huge. And strong. You gingerly put your hands on his shoulders. That's not an inappropriate touch, you think.

He has to live at the gym, right?

"You're still not holding on," he chides. "I don't have a helmet for you, so you really shouldn't fall off."

You swallow and move your hands, but he's too thick for you to link your hands around his front. So you fist both of them into his jacket. It presses your bodies tight against each other from shoulder to thighs. Through the layers his body radiates heat, but you shiver.

"Going," is all the warning you get.

Then you're gone; the bike shudders beneath you, then takes off like a jet.

You can't catch your breath. This must be what riding a dragon feels like, is your first nonsensical thought, a side effect of your roommate's obsession with Game of Thrones.

The bike roars beneath you, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of wind and the pound of blood in your ears. You can't see much with the wind drying out your eyes, so you press your head against the Red Hood's back and squint to one side. Cars and street lamps blur together into a stream of mismatched lights and colors.

The Red Hood drives fast. He weaves between lanes, runs through red lights, cuts onto the sidewalk. A couple bikers shake their fists at him when he passes them in the bike lane. A lot of cars honk at the two of you.

Judging by the way his shoulders shake with laughter, he likes pissing them off. You have to admit, the feeling is a little intoxicating.

You can't hear the sound, but your front is plastered to his back. Even with the layers of his suit and leather jacket, you can feel the vibrations of sound deep within his chest. He has a fairly deep voice, after all, unless the helmet changes that.

No less than ten minutes later, he parks abruptly. You lift your head, blinking moisture back into your eyes, and stare dumbly at your apartment building.

He'd actually brought you back.

Maybe he really was reformed.

You stumble off the bike onto unsteady legs. The Red Hood kicks his stand into place and rests against the bike, leaning with elbows on his handlebars. Like he expects a Midwest goodbye. And you find yourself dawdling.

Maybe you want one, too.

"Thanks for the ride," you finally say awkwardly.

"Anytime," he says, and you laugh, thinking it's a joke, but he doesn't. After a brief awkward pause, the Red Hood tries, "So how have you been?" as if you're old pals meeting up for brunch, and the question is so ridiculous coming from a sort-of-reformed crime lord slash serial killer that you respond without thinking.

"Pretty good, except I think I may have a stalker."

His helmet doesn't do a great job translating whatever sound he makes in response to that. It comes out as a crackle. "What?"

"I've noticed this dude recently showing up wherever I go," you say. "But I think it's just a coincidence. Sorry. That was a bad joke." It wasn't, but you don't want to accuse someone without proof of stalking you. If he's not, you'll seem self-obsessed. If he is, then he knows that you know, and it's not like the GCPD will do anything. One of your friends from your hometown had a stalker for literal years, and the police never did anything, even after he sent her death threats. They said there wasn't enough proof to make an arrest then, so someone showing up at the same places you are definitely isn't enough proof now.

The Red Hood tilts his head. "Does he make you uncomfortable?"

"You don't need to beat him up or anything on my behalf," you say. "I mean, you've seen me with a bottle of pepper spray. I'm pretty sure I can handle myself."

"I know you can," he says. You can hear the smile in his voice, like he finds something about the situation funny. "And I'm pretty sure that you know that I'm going to check this out anyway."

"No," you say, surprising yourself with your firmness. You can't rely on vigilantes to solve all your problems for you. "Seriously, it's okay. Thanks for the ride. Maybe I'll see you around."

"I'm counting on it," he calls as you walk away.

And he's right. Two days later finds you at the gas station at ten-thirty at night. You don't want to see him, per se. You're definitely not looking over your shoulder at the slightest sound. You definitely didn't check the parking lot for a notorious red motorcycle on your way in, and you certainly aren't taking peeks out the window every time headlights pass by on the street.

You're just... curious.

Maybe.

But you have absolutely no warning, not even a suspicion that someone is behind you, when you reach for a box of Cheez-Its. Someone else's hand gets there first and you nearly jump out of your socks.

"Hey," the Red Hood wheezes. He's clutching his side like he has a cramp. "Question: if I buy these for you, will you patch me up?"

"What?"

"I may have been cut," he admits. Judging by the angle of his hunch, it's a little more serious than just a 'cut'. "So: do we have a deal?"

The thought occurs to you, as you help him up five flights of stairs to your apartment, that you're escorting a strange man into your place of residence. You haven't even given your roommate a heads-up, though you're pretty sure tomorrow's his night off.

Sure enough, the only person there to greet you when you walk in is your cat. As per usual, he tries to escape. The Red Hood gently but firmly ushers him inside with his foot with such ease he must have one of his own. "It's cute," he says, still clutching his side.

"Thanks," you say. "He always tries to get out, but if he actually escapes then he just freezes in the hallway until I bring him back inside." Then you realize that you're discussing your cat, of all things, with the Red Hood. You clear your throat and say, "Let me take a look at you."

The crime lord and cat trail after you into the bathroom. It gets a little cramped because the Red Hood's about as small as a fridge is small, but you two figure out a passable system: he's too tall, even while sitting down, and you don't want to bend in half while you stitch him. So you sit on the toilet, he stands in front of you, and your cat jumps on top of his leather jacket on the counter to observe and judge. Luckily, the suture kit is still in the bathroom from when you thought you would have to stitch yourself up, so it's not long before you're instructing him to lift up the hem of his shirt so you can see the damage.

You hiss between your teeth at the sight. Someone grazed his side with a knife, by the looks of it, but the wound is deep. It might go all the way to his subcutaneous tissue.

After you clean it off, you're sure that it does. "You call this a cut?"

"I've had worse," he says gruffly.

"And you're still alive?" You squint at him.

He huffs like that's funny.

"They basically cut you in two! I don't know if I can fix this. I've never stitched someone up before!"

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head. "You stitched yourself up, remember? You told me you would."

Shit. Of all the ways to stick your foot in your mouth—

"It wasn't that bad," you say weakly.

“It looked pretty bad.”

“It just looked bad because I was wearing a light colored shirt. Don’t worry; I’ve learned my lesson.”

The Red Hood scratches under your cat’s chin. “About wearing light colored clothing, or about getting shot?”

You’re trying to thread the suture needle, but the stupid thread won’t cooperate. “Hmm?”

“Which lesson did you learn?”

“The former, mostly. Believe it or not, ‘try not to get shot’ is something most people, including me, know intuitively.”

"Let me see."

"Yeah, right," you say, "my apartment's basically a strip club, isn't it? First your shirt's coming up, then mine. Absolutely—" You slap his hand away— "Not. I'm fine. Now hold still while I stab you."

The process goes by quickly. He stands like a statue the whole time, like he's used to the pain of getting stitches. Considering his profession, he probably is.

Actually, you can see a couple healed-over scars on his torso just from the small bit of skin he's revealed by pulling up his shirt. And, you're pretty sure, a perfectly defined six-pack, but that's none of your business.

"I don't have the fancy dissolving sutures, unfortunately," you say while you tie off the thread. "These should come out in about a week."

"Yeah, I know," he grunts, letting his shirt fall back down. And you're not disappointed. At all. "Same time next week, then?"

"What?"

"To get them out."

"Uh." Your brain stalls out. You'd been operating under the assumption that this was just another freak coincidental run-in.

Is it just you, or is the Red Hood looking to make a friend out of you? Or maybe just a free pseudo-surgeon?

"Sure," you say. It's not like you can stop him, really.

"Thanks," he says, stroking your cat one more time. Then he nudges the pest off his jacket and shrugs it on, even though there's not really a need for it. The weather's been pretty mild the last week.

You walk him out the door. He pauses in the hallway, turns, and says, "By the way, what's your name?"

You tilt your head and tell it to him.

"Nice to meet you," he says. Then he walks away.

You watch him walk down the hallway until your cat escapes, and then you have to chase him. You're pretty sure the Red Hood sees it, because low-pitched laughter hits your ears as you gather the little bastard up, but when you look, the vigilante's gone.

"God, I hope he's up to date on his tetanus shot."

You find yourself at the coffee shop the next morning, determined not to let a buff bookworm change your routine. You're the first customer, and they have your order ready by the time you finish setting up your stuff on a small table in the corner of the shop, far from where the line will build up when more people trickle in.

Like clockwork, the bookworm wanders in just a couple minutes after you do, orders two coffees, and settles down across the room with his front to you.

Every time you glance up, he's utterly focused on his book. He's probably not watching you. Right?

Fifteen minutes later, the coffees untouched, he stands up. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he picks one up, approaches the counter, and...

Walks right past it.

Walks in your direction.

You stare blatantly, and he holds your gaze with a set jaw and something a little challenging in his gaze.

He's walking to you.

The coffee cup slams on the table, splashing a little over the edge, and you jump to move your laptop away from the liquid.

"Shit, sorry," the bookworm says. He runs away.

You stare until you realize he's grabbing napkins and hurrying back. At least ten, even though the spill's pretty small, and he piles them all onto the table.

His face gets redder the longer you watch without saying anything.

Once he's absolutely sure your laptop is safe from the couple drops he spilled, he balls them all into one large fist and rushes out, "I'm sorry—I was supposed to meet my brother here, but he canceled, and your drink cup's empty, so I was just wondering if you wanted this one? It's a little warm, but..."

"But free is good," you say, deciding to put him out his misery. And he certainly looks miserable rambling in front of you. Like he's mortified for some reason. "Um, thanks. What..."

"Just an iced coffee. Probably watered down."

You take a sip, just to be polite. It is watered down, but he didn't add any milk to it, so that's probably a good thing. "Thanks..." You tilt the cup to look at the name written on the side. "Jason?"

"Yep." He nods. He's still standing in front of you, like he wants to be invited to sit, but you have a lot of work to do, and he's a complete stranger, and all his stuff is still on his table across the room.

Something clatters behind the counter. You both turn in time to see the two baristas duck out of sight, whispering furiously. Probably about the spectacle you two are making.

"You go to GCU's campus library a lot, right?" Jason asks suddenly.

"Yeah, I do. So do you." You don't phrase it like a question.

"Yeah," he says. "It's peaceful to read in there. Quieter than my apartment."

"Okay," you say slowly. You're really not interested in this conversation, but you don't want to be rude.

He must understand you, though, because he rubs the back of his head and steps backwards, mumbling something about getting back to his book.

Jason's brother never does end up meeting him. You tell yourself that's why you keep glancing at him. Once or twice, you two peek at each other at the same time, and you always look away first, face hot like he's caught you doing something wrong.

The next time you go to the library, it's packed. The weather has turned, so students have nothing better to do than prepare for their finals. You head to the quiet floor, slowly losing hope that you'll find a seat.

A head snaps up the moment you walk in, dark-haired with a striking streak of white at his forehead. Jason.

Something like relief passes over his face, and he waves you over.

"I saved your seat," he whispers, dragging his bag off of the chair.

"Thanks," you say, actually touched. "You didn't have to."

He shrugs. "You're my reading buddy."

The next day, he's sitting at the library's entrance when you walk in. Jason shakes his head. "All the seats were already taken when I got here."

"Ugh." Strictly speaking, you don't need to study tonight. You're pretty confident about the next test's material, and you're also pretty burnt out.

"We could check out the Student Center?" he suggests. As if it's a given that the two of you are going to spend the afternoon together. And, you realize, after two straight weeks of studying in his proximity, you don't mind the presumption. That's how you made your closest friend in undergrad, anyway.

In fact, you think you might want to get to know Jason. Maybe ask about his white streak; you've been growing more and more curious about it. And why he's about seven feet tall and two hundred fifty pounds of muscle but has a passion for romance novels.

"I don't think I've studied in there before."

"It's not too bad, but it's a little louder than the library."

So you two head to the Student Center, but he doesn't open his book, and you open your laptop but don't turn it on. He buys you coffee, though you insist that you can pay for it yourself, and a simple query into what book he's reading currently turns into a two-hour conversation.

Jason likes to read every genre, but he likes classics and romance best. He doesn't just have one brother, he has four, and a sister. He's not on the football team like you'd assumed; he just likes to work out. He's finishing up his sophomore year of undergrad studying English Lit—he sees how your smile freezes at those words, and you're asking how old he is, and he's laughing when he tells you he took a couple gap years. He's your age, actually, and that's relieving for reasons you can't quite put to words.

When you check your watch and curse at the time—it's almost time for your cat's dinner—he asks for your number, and you put it into his phone.

You feel good on your walk home. You haven't made a new friend since the first semester of vet school; the course load is too demanding for you to participate in any GCU clubs. Your roommate asks why you're smiling and you wave him off. Of course, your cat doesn't care that you're in a good mood. He only cares about getting fed.

You see Jason a couple more times over the week, and soon you're too embarrassed to admit that you thought he was stalking you. He's almost as bad a texter as you are, responding at such hours you're half-convinced he doesn't sleep, so you're less self-conscious about taking hours to respond.

You've just gotten around to answering his last text when something knocks against your window.

You drop the phone on your face.

The Red Hood is laughing at you when you open the window to let him in. You'd forgotten he was coming, but you don't say so. He tumbles in, moving a little stiffly, but a lot better than he'd been last week. Your cat, the little traitor, runs to greet him and rubs against his ankles, purring like an engine. The Red Hood bends to pet him. "Hey, kitty." The red helmet tips up and those unnerving white lenses fix on you. "Hey, doc. Here to get my stitches out."

"How have you been feeling?" you ask.

"Good," he says, almost defensively.

It makes you suspect that something is wrong, but when you all pile into the bathroom again like it's a clown car and he pulls up his shirt, the wound is healing nicely. No pink or heat that signals infection, no puffy skin. You remove the stitches quickly, and again he hesitates, like he wants to stay longer.

You find yourself thinking about Jason. You're pretty sure you wish he was here.

"Well, thanks."

"Anytime."

He pauses. "Really?"

You shrug. "I mean, not if you need a hospital. Then I'd expect you to head straight to a hospital. But stuff like this—no worse than this, ideally—I guess I can help you with."

"You're pretty cool for a vet," the Red Hood says. "The last one I visited kept freaking out on me for stealing codeine."

"Well, that's a restricted—wait, you were stealing codeine? What for?"

He shrugs.

"What were you using it for," you repeat sternly.

"Okay!" he says loudly. "Well, thanks for patching me up, doc. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Wait," you call out uselessly, but he vaults out the window. You gasp and rush to the sill, but there's no Red Hood-shaped puddle on the ground. Instead, his rapidly shrinking form disappears in the distance, swinging between the buildings that make up the Gotham skyline.

You don't see the Red Hood for a while after that, but you hear whispers of him wearing a new costume. You get caught up with finals and Jason, who asks you out after the semester ends.

Your vehement 'yes' takes you by surprise. Him, too, judging by his wide eyes and wider smile. You wonder why he asked if he thought you would say no. You wonder why you didn't realize earlier how desperately you wanted him to.

Now that you're out of school, you pick up shifts at the vet clinic. By some unhappy circumstance, they can only schedule you for the evening shifts. Jason works nights, too, and you've never fully squirreled out where he works, but at least you can spend some days together.

It's when you're walking back from your first shift that you see the Red Hood again after almost three weeks of radio silence. He pulls up next to you on the motorcycle. It's so late that there's no one on the road, so he stays on the asphalt and idles along at your walking pace until you break and say, "Long time no see, Hood."

"Did you miss me?" he teases.

You stop walking, because.

Most of his costume changed. Because it's summer, and even the nights are hot and muggy, you assume.

The pants are the same. So are the boots. But his jacket is red and sleeveless and has a hood that goes down to his eyebrows, the armor beneath short-sleeved, which means most of his arms are bare.

And...

Your mouth is dry. You swallow.

You're pretty sure not even Batman is that ripped. He looks like he's chiseled out of marble.

The longer you're speechless, the more amused he gets. You don't know how you know that, but something about his posture seems smug.

"You're taking 'red hood' seriously now, are you?" is all you manage to say. Because what else are you supposed to comment on? His bare forearms? His veins are so beautifully pronounced, they would be a dream to take blood from, but you have a boyfriend of a whole one and a half weeks, and you may be many things, but you're not a cheater.

He laughs, then pulls his hood low when it slips back a bit. His voice is still modulated, although it's not through a red helmet anymore. This is more like a muzzle. You can't tell if the eye covering is part of it, or like the domino masks that Batman and Robin wear, but the lenses are red now instead of white.

He's really leaning into the theme.

"You want a ride?"

"We're two blocks from my apartment."

He shrugs. "I'm heading there anyway."

What the hell. You've already hopped on the back of his bike before. It's easier to do so the second time. You wrap your arms around his torso again, and when his arms settle over your own, they're warm with his body heat, but not hard, even though the muscles look sharp enough to cut glass. He's firm all over, but his skin is soft, apart from the raised, bumpy scars that seem to cover him from head-to-toe. It makes you worry about him, just a little.

He doesn't drive fast this time. He drives slow enough to hold a conversation and tosses over his shoulder, "So what's new with you?"

"Not much," you say into his ear. Is it just you, or does he shiver? "I finished another semester of vet school."

"Top grades, I'm sure. Did you get extra credit for patching me up?"

"I wish." No, your grades are good, but not exceptional. But exceptional is what got you into vet school. As long as you graduate with a DVM, even if you're the lowest in your class, you're a licensed doctor. There's some relief in that. "The dude I thought was stalking me asked me out, actually."

"Really?" he asks, interested and alert. "Was he really stalking you? Do you need me to scare him off for you?"

"No," you say, smiling at the thought of the Red Hood trying to scare off Jason. They're about the same build, now that you think about it, which you're sure the vigilante isn't used to. And Jason's never been anything but gentle and polite, but you saw an undercurrent of something strong, something like titanium, under that gentle spirit the one time he stood up for one of the baristas at the coffee shop that you first spoke to each other. He hadn't needed to do much apart from stand up and glare at the beleaguered corporate guy angry that there wasn't enough sugar in his coffee, and the dude shut up and scurried out as fast as he could.

It was probably the hottest thing you've ever seen him do, except for that one time you pushed your laptop a little too close to the edge of your desk while studying, it tipped over, and he caught it one-handed without looking up from his book. What can you say? Saving you a couple hundred dollars in getting that fixed was hot.

"It was a misunderstanding," you say. "We just ended up in the same places at the same times."

A gust of wind pushes back the Red Hood's hood, exposing a head of thick, dark hair, the same shade of black as Jason's. The motorcycle swerves in his haste to pull his hood back up, and when you reach your apartment and hop off the bike, he's pushing his hair back, back, beneath the hood.

What's the point of ditching the helmet if he's just going to be fussing with the hood all the time?

"What's new with you?" you ask, scuffing your toe against the sidewalk. Your shoes are falling apart; the sole is peeling away.

"Same old, same old," he says. His voice sounds rougher, but that might just be the new modulator.

"How's your side?"

"How's yours?" he counters. "You still haven't let me see it. I bet it scarred because you were too stubborn to take my advice and patch it up."

You will never admit that he's right. You challenge, "Let's compare scars, then," knowing full well his armor dips below his pants. It's a little silly to picture the Red Hood wearing an armored one-piece, but that's all you can imagine.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. It dislodges the hood. A patch of hair falls down to his forehead, and it's white.

But the back of his hair is black.

White and black—

Your stomach flips.

"I thought you had a boyfriend, honey. Why're you asking me to strip?"

So that's what all the teasing's been about. He hasn't been flirting—or he has, his own weird version of flirting, because he's a dumbass.

For a moment all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears, then you flex your fingers to regain feeling in them. You roll your eyes and say, "I think we've established that my apartment is basically a strip club. Why don't you come up and show me, Jason?"

"Well, I'm flattered, but—what?" He splutters like he's choking on his own tongue. Serves him right. "I'm not—why do you think that—I mean, I could be anyone—"

Yeah, he can have his little crisis on the street. You tug on your own fringe, then swipe into the building.

You hear his muffled cursing as the door closes.

You look forward to him catching up.

(My requests are open, so let me know if you want me to write anything in particular! Also let me know if you want to be added to a taglist.)

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

#reader insert #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd

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imaginespazzi · 4 months ago

Text

Part 4: Warning Bells

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team.

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face.

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up.

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up.

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back.

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again.

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too.

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her.

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes.

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again.

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs.

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen,

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend.

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence.

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond.

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way.

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening.

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously.

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly.

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana.

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath.

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that.

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately.

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips.

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is.

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours.

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look.

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends.

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage.

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them.

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her.

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger.

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said.

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly.

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again.

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly.

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore.

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate.

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple.

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did.

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her.

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh.

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly.

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-”

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender.

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever.

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist.

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel.

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows.

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames.

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother.

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her.

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them.

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently.

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands.

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch.

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be. That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort.

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas.

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them.

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt.

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults.

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side.

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other.

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years.

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe.

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this.

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige.

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes.

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay.

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake.

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly.

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away.

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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woniverse-writes · 1 year ago

Text

"Moth to a Flame (part 7)"

Bada Lee x Reader

part 6 ⟵ part 7 ⟶ part 8

series masterlist

summary: y/n l/n is the youngest team member of Jam Republic, competing in the second season of Street Woman Fighter. she’s got the sweetest smile and the most vibrant personality, but she also may or may not be the biggest hothead on the show when it comes to defending her teammates. apparently that’s attractive to Bada Lee.

word count: 9k

warnings: swearing, minor angst if you could even call it that, tbh this doesn't feel like my best work so i'm sorry, not proofread, nothing I write is a reflection of anyone's true character and is a work of total fiction

After Deep n Dap had been defeated by Wolf’Lo, There were a few days between the elimination and when the crews were supposed to gather again to learn the group choreography for the trailer. In that time Jam Republic had been booked and busy- they had a long-awaited team dinner, went to some dance classes, and even taught some of their own.

Y/n specifically took a class with Harimu at 1 Million, that happened to to be taught by Redy. the three hung out before heading to the studio, grabbing lunch and bonding over dance and being the youngest members of their crews.

“So how’re things among the other Jam girls? Are you all getting accustomed to things here?” Redy asked after taking a sip from her mimosa

“They’re all doing great- as I explained earlier, it wasn’t really hard for me to get re-situated, but I was actually really nervous for them at first…” y/n explained briefly, causing both 1 Million dancers to tilt their heads and furrow their brows

“Aww, why? Because of the language barrier or just being in a different country?” the older of the two questioned again

“A bit of both- I knew the language would be hard for them since it took me years of studying to even be able to speak and understand it somewhat fluently, but I felt okay enough to be able to translate for them… I was mostly worried about how we’d be perceived by Korean netizens I guess, since we’re such a diverse team…” The youngest dancer played with her straw once she finished her sentence, a bit shy to admit her original concerns for her team. The other two nodded sympathetically

“Well, have you made any other close friends?” Harimu finally chimes back in, wanting to avoid the deeper conversation that she felt was about to arise

“You and Lusher seem pretty close- Tatter too!” Redy exclaimed, having remembered the girls’ reactions to Y/n, as well as how easily the blonde got along with her during the rank mission. Y/n smiled softly and was about to confirm their friendship before the other 1 Million dancer snorted and began talking again

“Now that you say that I can’t help but be curious about what’s been going on between you and Bada” she teased out of curiosity, not noticing how quickly the younger dancer’s face dropped. Y/n didn’t say anything at first, taking another sip from her drink, causing the two to look up from their own over at her.

“...there’s nothing going on between me and Bada… we aren’t even friends…” Y/n softly tells them, leaving both of them shocked

“Woah- what??? Did something happen?? Just a couple of weeks ago you two were all over each other!” Harimu loudly explicated, earning a smack to the arm from her teammate

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to Y/n, we understand… I especially understand that Bada isn’t the greatest at communicating so…” Redy comforted the girl, but y/n just chuckled a bit sadly before sighing

“It’s okay, I don’t mind explaining it to you guys…” She told her two friends and then did just that. Y/n explained how she and Bada became close quickly, how they hung out as just the two of them on multiple occasions, leaving out the parts where things got a bit too intimate, but it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks. Then how things went south as soon as the pressure was on for the mega crew mission. By the end of the retelling, y/n’s mouth felt dry and she couldn’t help the feeling of shame that arose once again at the remembrance of how childish and immature she had acted.

“Wow… I didn’t think it was gonna be that bad…” Harimu mumbled, reaching over to take a sip from Redy’s mimosa, causing the other to fumble to try and stop her before immediately giving up to pay attention to their friend

“I’m so sorry you had to experience that Y/n… you didn’t deserve that.” Redy reached across the table to hold Y/n’s hand, the younger looking up to meet her eyes before pursing her lips

“I mean… I kinda did… maybe not all of it, but at least most of it-”

“No way- I wouldn’t even say you deserved a quarter of it” the younger 1 Million dancer cut her friend off, not liking how self-deprecating she was sounding, causing her teammate to nod and hum

“Harimu’s right- sure you said some things you shouldn’t have and you may have started the argument, but if Bada had been so mature herself, you two probably would’ve been able to get out of that fight with your relationship still intact.” the oldest of the three intelligently remarked, causing her teammate to hum and nod while Y/n just sighed

“I can’t believe you two haven’t talked at all since then…”

“Redy she doesn’t even wanna look at me or acknowledge my existence when we’re in the same room, I wouldn’t be able to get close to her even if I did wanna talk to her…” Y/n pouted and leaned against her hand. They all sat in silence for a moment until Harimu sat up straight with a gasp

“Have you tried getting her attention? Like- maybe you don’t have to be the one that talks first!” she exclaimed with wide eyes, leaving the other two with very confused expressions. She sighed dramatically and continued with her idea

“What if you try to make her jealous??” Y/n gave a deadpan expression in response as Redy rolled her eyes and mumbled an ‘oh my god’ under her breath

“Girl- I already told you we weren’t… a thing… so how would that even work?” the youngest questioned exasperatedly

“And I already told you how I don’t believe that for a second, BUT- “ Redy snorted as she couldn’t help but agree with her teammate since they’d all seen how Bada and Y/n looked at each other

“We do what every dancer does when they’re trying to make someone jealous- a duet…” Harimu finished explaining and the others just sat there, waiting for her to explain in further detail, which caused her to huff before doing so

“Y/n, you can do a duet with one of us that has a lot of partner work, and touching and it’ll be like- spicy- ya know??? And it’ll make Bada jealous!” the middle dancer finally finished explaining

“It’s not a terrible idea…” Redy chimed in apprehensive, not wanting to upset her friend, but also agreeing with how well it could work. The two 1 Million dancers waited to hear what the youngest had to say, leaving Y/n sighing

“It’s not a bad idea, but the only way it’d work was if Bada actually still cared…” she mumbled sadly and pouted into the hand that she was leaning on

“Well, there’s only one way to find out!”

The three finished their lunch and headed over to 1 Million Dance Studio for Redy’s class. Afterward, they stuck around and began choreographing a duet for Y/n and Redy

“Oooh, you know what would make this even better??” Harimu excitedly inquired, leaving her friends a bit worried once they saw the mischievous look in her eyes

“Oh god… what?” Y/n whined, throwing her head back

“If you used a song she’s already choreographed too- perhaps a song that no one knows she’s choreographed to yet…” The younger 1 Million dancer raised her eyebrows up and down, yet the other two stood confused. Harimu sighs once again before pressing play on the music she picked. “Psycho” by Baekhyun started playing and Redy burst out laughing

“We can’t- that’d be so mean!” the youngest of the three expressed more of her concerns out loud

“No it wouldn’t- Bada doesn’t own this song. And plus, we could always say something nice about how she was the one who reminded us of this song… nobody else knows the reason we’re doing this besides us Y/n, so it’ll only seem mean to you… and maybe her but she deserves it!” Redy defended, assuring Y/n that there wouldn’t be any repercussions from the public

“Exactly- the mega crew missions won’t air for a while, so people probably won’t even connect the two anyway!” Harimu chimed in, throwing an arm around Y/n’s shoulder, causing her to let out a sigh

“Alright… let’s do it-” she gave in and the other two cheered and jumped with joy, excited to choreograph the piece and cause some chaos. They worked on the piece for hours before filming it. Redy decided she’d be the one to post it, just in case it did cause some drama then it wouldn’t totally be pinned on Y/n. The three girls finished their hang-out sesh and went their separate ways.

When Y/n had settled into her apartment her phone lit up with a notification from Instagram, letting her know she was tagged in a post. She clicked on it to see the video of her and Redy’s choreography, where the older dancer had captioned it ‘been obsessed with this song lately- thanks @badalee_!’ with a bunch of black, white, and pink emojis. Y/n reposted the video to her story and made sure to leave a comment before turning off her phone and getting in the shower.

Meanwhile, team Bebe was out having dinner when Bada’s phone pinged with a notification. Unlocking it, she opened Instagram to see that Redy had tagged her in a video- a video that had her heart clenching the second she processed what it was, or rather who it was.

Tatter had also opened Instagram while they were waiting for their food to arrive and saw the same video as the first thing on her feed. She turned to Bada immediately and showed her the video but ended up bursting out laughing when she saw the same thing already pulled up on the older girl’s phone.

“I really don’t see what’s funny about this…” the leader mumbled sourly, while her teammate continued to die of laughter. The others sat confused until Lusher reached over to take Tatter’s phone which she had dropped on the table. The sub-leader tried to stifle her own laughter once she saw the video and read the caption, before sliding the phone back over to the blonde.

“You guys seriously aren’t annoyed by this? They took our song!” Bada childishly whined, causing Tatter to laugh even harder while the younger members started asking what was going on. The eldest tossed her phone gently in the middle of the table for everyone to see the video, and while a couple were confused the other couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“Oh no Bada- they took your song. We didn’t mess with Y/n… this is targeting you…” Lusher smirked as she took a long sip from her drink, causing the leader to scoff

“Seriously? You really think this is specifically targeting me? And why would Redy do that… especially since me and her are good now-”

“So you think this was Y/n’s idea?” CheChe questioned with a raised brow

“Of course! She’s obviously still out to get me with her immature antics…” the leader dramatically pouted and crossed her arms. To her teammates, she looked like a spoiled child who just got told they did something wrong for the first time. This caused most of the members to either scoff or burst out laughing

“Well you were the one who took it as an attack in the first place- maybe they genuinely just wanted to dance to the song…” Kyma chimed in, shrugging her shoulder, causing the leader to groan and throw her head back against the booth they were all in. She glanced back at her phone to see that Harimu commented on the video- something about how she was glad to be a part of the process. Then the leader clicked on the girl’s story to see she had reposted the video as well, complimenting her teammate but also making some flirty comments about Y/n. almost as if she could read Bada’s mind Lusher spoke up

“Y/n does look really good though… I’d get on that apology Bada or else you might lose your chance…” Lusher whispered the second half of her statement, teasing her team leader with a smirk, knowing how the dance was actually affecting her.

‘great now I have to worry about my own teammate AND these two stealing my girl…’

______________

After the short break they had gotten from filming, all the remaining crew’s returned for the filming of the season teaser video. Y/n had been gradually getting back to her old self after the mega crew mission had ended, feeling much less stress after completing it and having survived the elimination. The poor girl is still absolutely destroyed and guilt-ridden by the entire situation that occurred between her and Bada but is slowly finding it easier to ignore her presence. At this point, it’s been almost another full week since the elimination- meaning it’s been about two weeks since the two had last spoken to each other.

All the teams gathered in the main filming area after going through the hair and makeup process like usual, but it felt different to Bada. As soon as she laid her eyes on Y/n it was honestly like the Bebe leader had an epiphany.

“Woah… I fucked up…” she mumbled to herself, noticing how Y/n’s eyes didn’t sparkle anymore and how she was rather calm. The young girl had always been a bit chaotic and energetic when it came to filming, so what was wrong? This wasn’t a mission, so there was no need to stress- so what could've possibly been weighing Y/n down? And that was when Bada realized, that she was weighing her down…

“Goddamn- it’s about time you noticed…” Tatter mumbled in return, sighing once she noticed her leader’s sad puppy eyes and lips slightly parted in shock. For the rest of the shoot Bada is putting on her best stage face because her feelings are not correlating at all with what she’s supposed to be portraying.

When they aren’t filming or there’s a break, Bada can only focus on how pretty and sad y/n looks. She doesn’t look sad all the time, but the older girl noticed that whenever she was by herself her mind seemed to always drift somewhere sad. Her smile fades (even though it hadn’t reached her eyes in the first place) and the younger girl suddenly looks so much older with how sunken her eyes are- had she been sleeping? Was she not eating enough? A million questions were racing through Bada’s mind and she tried to keep them pushed down for now, seeing as how she knew the second she started thinking, she knew she wouldn’t stop

Bada knew she was part of the reason why the jam republic dancer was like this, but she couldn’t bring herself to talk to her. So she did what she thought was the next best thing- talk to her leader. She tried to start off with a small conversation between herself and Kirsten to get a feel for the Jam leader’s attitude toward her, which worked in her favor seeing as the other had seemed pretty chill about talking with her. The rest of Jam Republic on the other hand (minus Y/n) observed with questionable glances as Bada laughed and joked with Kirstne like usual.

“Now what the actual fuck is her problem…” Ling commented out of absolute rage and distaste for whatever was going on a few meters away from them

“She better not be trying to pull some stupid shit, cuz I don’t play when it comes to Y/n…” Emma mumbled glaring at the Bebe leader along with the rest of her team. Latrice huffed out a laugh and turned to look at her

“You would sacrifice Y/n to a cult if it meant you got a good laugh out of it…” the sub-leader of Jam Republic commented with a little joking smirk, causing the other members to ease up a little bit and crack some light smiles

“Well yes- I would, but that doesn’t mean anyone else is allowed to!” Emma retorted, sticking up her nose dramatically. Y/n was luckily off getting her hair fixed with Redy and Yoonji, seeing as they all had these little crystals glued in their hair, and a few had fallen out during the first few runs. The Jam Republic members were just glad she wasn’t present to see the interaction, knowing their youngest member would either burst into tears and spiral into a mental breakdown, or spontaneously combust into a ball of flames and go on a rampage. Either way- it would not have been an easy situation to deal with.

Yet the Jammies’ relief is short-lived as they took their second break. Y/n came bounding over after doing a short segment with all the youngest members of each team, a bright smile on her face as her members awaited her return. They had all monitored the performance with smiles of adoration, hyping up their baby the whole time. They praised her and pinched her cheeks, teasing Y/n affectionately until Bada walked by.

“You ready for the leaders’ shot?” she questioned with a hand on Kirsten’s shoulder. The Jam Republic leader turned her attention away from her youngest member briefly to give a polite nod and smile. Bada jerked her head in the direction of where they were heading to film, signaling for the younger leader to follow her in that direction. The two began walking off before Kirsten turned back around to wave to her members, leaving the Jam Republic members in shock

“What was that…” Y/n watched with sad confused puppy eyes and her jaw slightly dropped as the two leaders walked away to go film. The other members stood behind her, tense as they tried to read the young girl’s emotions. Y/n felt her heart rate pick up and her breath quickens, feeling the pressure that usually paired with tears start to build up. She swallowed thickly and pushed down the feeling before turning around to face her members with a forced smile. They all could tell right away and just gave her looks of sympathy, causing her smile to slowly drop as she sighed.

After the leaders did their portion of the shoot, Bada and Kirsten walked back over to the pink team laughing over whatever conversation they were having. They stopped once they reached the other members, standing directly in front of Y/n. poor girl just stared up at Bada with those heartbroken puppy dog eyes, and god Bada knew it. She felt Y/n’s stare burning holes into the side of her head, using every ounce of control in her body not to glance over and clearly see her watery eyes and quivering lip. She knew that if she were to fully look at the younger girl right now, she’d be faced with not only a heartbroken puppy, but an angry pack of wolves behind her, and to be completely honest she hadn’t achieved that level of bravery yet.

Bada Lee knew what she was doing. She knew that by acting normal with Kirsten, she’d be getting Y/n’s attention. She knew it’d hurt the younger girl, but that wasn’t her intention this time. The Bebe leader wanted to slowly weave her way back into Y/n’s life, and knew the easiest place to start was by making sure she was on good terms with her team leader, that way she had a mediator (even though Lusher had been playing mediator already, Bada didn’t trust that she wasn’t also trying to get with Y/n).

Y/n doesn’t even realize the conversation has ended and she’s just sitting there pathetically watching as Bada walks away. Ling sighs and pats her head, while the others sadly watch their baby wither away again.

“You okay bunny?” Kirsten asked softly, sitting down next to her and bumping their shoulders together. Y/n just pursed her lips and sighed before closing her eyes and nodding. On the other side where team Bebe has gathered, they also had watched the entire situation, or rather how distraught the youngest Jam Republic members looked during the whole thing.

“You are just so cruel…” Lusher expressed lowly when Bada got within earshot, shaking her head in disbelief as she clenched her jaw. The leader’s eyes went wide as she scoffed

“What?? How?? I’m trying to make things better-” The sub-leader sighed deeply and closed her eyes, genuinely exhausted by her friend’s poor relationship choices

“By forcing yourself into her life and then totally ignoring?? Yeah that seems to be working really well…” she ended up responding quickly, pinching the bridge of her nose as she lost her patience

“Ya know if I couldn’t practically see the tears streaming down her face from over here, I’d say you did a pretty good job!” Tatter snarkily commented with a cocky sarcastic smirk. Bada was really starting to resent her choices in teammates right now… but she knew they were right.

They went back to shooting, finishing the individual teams and small group chat before taking a longer break for dinner. As everyone was gathering back afterward to wrap up the shoot with all the full cast shots, the main monitor lit up. The music video for “Maria” by Hwasa began playing as the song blasted over the speakers. Hwasa enters the stage and everyone begins screaming. Ling and Y/n are gripping onto each other, absolutely shell-shocked at her appearance. The song continues to play as everyone does the choreography with her, the two Jam Republic members living their best lives while their members sit with confused yet excited smiles.

The song ends and Hwasa introduces herself along with the mission. Everyone of course goes wild for the opportunity to choreograph a routine for her, and of course just to be in her presence. The song they’ll be choreographing to is played, and once again the room is filled with screams and cheers expressing how much they all love it. Everyone was already coming up with ideas, but Jam Republic practically had their entire choreo prepared in an instant, as Y/n sat taking in the beat and engraining the feeling into her body and mind

When it ends everyone starts talking about how Lia Kim and Bada were at an advantage since they do this for a living, some mentioning Redlic as well. Y/n became another hot topic and top competitor for this mission seeing as she’s done many recreational choreographies to kpop songs that have gone viral and sometimes even become more popular than the original. When the bonus is announced that they have to come up with a challenge portion to receive extra points that lowkey pisses y/n off. She wasn’t a fan of the idea, thinking it made the part seem too forced and could easily end up making the choreography look cheap or cheesy.

After the idol finishes relaying the mission, she wishes everyone good luck as they wrap up filming and head right into preparing for the challenge. Jam Republic quickly jots down some ideas and gets a feel for the moves as Y/n tests out the choreo she had in mind when she first heard the song earlier. When the crew reconvened the next day for a full practice, their first order of business was figuring out who was going to represent Hwasa.

"I would love to be the center just as much as anyone else, but I feel like whoever can pull off the idol persona best should do it…" the leader smiles and looks in y/n's direction as she pauses her explanation

"so I think we should put it up to a vote!" so all six members made their pick, which ended up being pretty useless since it resulted in a three-way tie between Kirsten, Ling, and Y/n

"I personally think Y/n would be our best bet since she has a lot of experience performing kpop stages" Ling smiled and patted her younger teammate on the knee as she expressed her desire for the youngest member to take the part

"I also would really like to see Y/n as the center… something just tells me she'd bring us good luck" Kirsten smiles motherly at the youngest who is currently hiding her face in her hands not to let anyone see the smile and blush on her face. So they all collectively agree to have y/n be the center and she's just so happy, cheesing away. She could already imagine the baby noises the editing team was putting over the clips of her trying to contain her excited reaction. After that decision was made, they immediately got to work on choreography. Things were going well enough to the point where the members felt comfortable taking a break around lunchtime. Y/n checked her phone while she drank her water, seeing a text from Harimu

1 Mil Mu: ‘Hey babes! Who’s your team’s Hwasa?’

Y/n: ‘What if I told you it was me…🫣’

1 Mil Mu: ‘I’d say thank god cuz I need someone to come buy heels with me for this😭’

Y/n: ‘Wait- are you hwasa too???’

1 Mil Mu: ‘Yes ma’am😚’

Y/n: ‘AHHHH SHUT UP- we’re gonna eat so hard, I’m so excited’

The news that she’d be going up against Harimu as Hwasa gave Y/n a bit of an adrenaline rush, knowing how perfectly the 1 Million dancer fit the role. She felt as if she’d have to work even harder now, but it made her excited instead of nervous. Y/n has actually gotten back to her normal self for the most part, genuinely excited about this challenge and seeing how everyone else would portray Hwasa’s image.

The next day before practice Y/n and Harimu have a little girls’ morning, going out for breakfast and then doing some shopping. They made sure to try on plenty of options for heels, not too worried about the look of them right now, but rather just needed something to practice in. The two ended up getting two pairs each, a simple yet secure heel that stopped right about the ankle, and then another pair of thigh-high heeled boots to really give the Hwasa feel.

The next day was when everyone would be showcasing what they had so far for choreography, y/n wanted to look as clean and presentable as possible, choosing to wear her thigh-high boots with some booty shorts and an oversized jersey. She hadn’t worn the shoes to the practice, carrying them in her back while she opted for some plain sneakers in the meantime. All teams walk in and Y/n is hyped to the max- until she realizes that Jam Republic is seated right next to Bebe…

Luckily for everyone involved, the youngest Jam Republic member is too excited about the challenge to worry about Bada right now. She was totally focused on showing her best performance and enjoying everyone else’s. She started off excitedly watching Mannequeen then becoming easily disappointed by how sloppy it got. She was very curious to see what wolf’Lo would come up with though, seeing as their style is classic hip hop- a style y/n hadn’t particularly been a fan of. Yet, watching Mini got her hype. She couldn’t contain her impressed reaction at the pink-haired girl’s vibe, loving the slight change wolf’lo had made in their typical genre of dance.

Bebe was the fourth group to go and Y/n was conflicted, to say the least. To be completely honest- that’s how most of Jam Republic felt, seeing as they were excited to see what the team produced, but they were nervous for their poor youngest member’s heart.

Bada begins a short speech, explaining the concept they were going for as the other members practiced behind her. Lusher and Tatter turned around behind Bada and looked to Y/n giving her a cheesy smile and thumbs up, before immediately going back to practicing. Y/n couldn’t help but smile and giggle at how dedicated her friends were, but she also couldn’t help as the smile stayed when her attention shifted back to the leader nervously smiling and fidgeting with the microphone in her hands as she wrapped up her speech.

The music starts and Y/n’s small smile immediately shifts into an impressed expression at one of the first moves. Bada gives a cool look as she holds up a hand sign signaling the title of street woman fighter, causing everyone to cheer lightly at the reference

“That was cool…” Y/n mumbled, playfully pouting and scrunching her nose as she tried to hide her impressed smile, causing her members to look at her with wide eyes at first before giggling and ruffling her hair. The chorus arrives and Y/n’s jaw just drops- the girl is so beyond impressed. She’s trying to process whether it’s actually good or if it’s just Bada, but then she watches everyone else and realizes it’s really just that good.

Then Bada struts off to the side for her own little part, doing a hip roll as she covers her eyes, sending the audience into a frenzy- especially Y/n who lets out a small scream and suddenly doesn’t know where to look or what to do with her hands. Ultimately she realized what that reaction must have looked like and just hung her head in her hands as Audrey patted her on the back and tried her hardest not to burst out laughing.

Y/n sat there astonished, watching through her fingers as she continued to hide behind her hands. Bebe finishes their choreography and y/n is trying so hard to contain her excitement, she just hides her face in her hands again and screams out loud. This is gonna be such a rough mission for her…

Lady Bounce went after Bebe and while they looked like they were having a lot of fun, there wasn’t anything super impressive about their routine. Next up was 1 Million and Y/n stood up screaming as loud as she could, so beyond hyped to see her besties perform. Harimu eats up her Hwasa role, as expected and everyone loves the routine, including Hwasa. Finally, after everyone else had gone, it was Jam Republic’s turn.

“Our youngest treasure, miss y/n will be playing Hwasa” Kirsten smiled as she announced their group’s center, causing everyone to absolutely lose their shit. Many dancers had already suspected it once they saw her walk out with the thigh-high boots and everyone else in regular sneakers, but it was still exciting to have the confirmation.

Everyone’s excitement rose as the music began, loving how Y/n completely transformed into a different person whenever she was performing. It started off smooth, but as Kirsten threw her head back for a specific move, her hat fell off. Luckily since Jam Republic is such a well-prepared group, Y/n caught it with ease and tossed it off to the side like it was all part of the routine, causing everyone to react in shock at her quick reflexes.

The crew continued dancing as if it were nothing, having a blast and feeding off of the other teams’ reactions. Bebe especially was hyping Y/n up, even Bada couldn’t contain her excitement. Yet, the leader did keep looking back and forth between 1 Million’s youngest two dancers as well as her own sub-leader, trying to gauge their reaction to Y/n as well.

After a brief moment of observing the others’ reactions, Bada once again became entranced by Jam Republic’s center. Her expressions and movement quality truly made for a captivating performance, even though it was just an interim check. The crew finished their routine and Lusher stood up immediately clapping and screaming as loud as she could, cheering for the team as a whole but also making specific calls out to Y/n

“Y/N YOU’RE SO SEXY” she cupped her hands over her mouth as she screamed out to her friend, causing the leader to slow her claps and glare at her. Bada was really starting to question Lusher’s intentions- even though the girl hadn’t been acting any different than usual. It was all simply Bada’s insecurities.

_________

The next few days passed in a flash as the crews continued to improve their routines and develop their concepts. When it came time to watch each performance everyone gathered in their respective monitoring rooms. Mannequeen was the first to go, and as the screen lit up with their performance all the dancers got excited that the mission was officially starting.

“Okay… she’s kinda eating right now” y/n playfully pouted as Redlic devoured the routine. Jam Republic fangirled over them and how sick their outfits were, but by the end they weren’t entirely sold on the routine as a whole.

“It was really good, but I wish they had a bit more energy- or at least were more consistent with it” Latrice commented and the rest of them agreed. Wolf’Lo’s performance was next and once again, the pink team anticipated the final product. Jam Republic was impressed with how they were able to keep their classic hip-hop style while incorporating elements of K-pop

“Everyone is so good I’m gonna scream” was the first thing y/n said after the performance. Yet after recognizing Wolf’Lo’s efforts, they discussed how there was a lack of harmony between the “artist” and the dancers

After Wolf’Lo it was Bebe’s turn to present their routine, and Y/n was losing her mind. This girl was freaking out- hyperventilating and pacing, but out of excitement and anticipation. Audrey, Ling laughed at her, the elder even bringing out her phone to record the girl hopping around like an excited cat, while Emma smirked teasingly and side-eyed her.

“I’m so nervous-”

“Love, this isn’t even our routine…” Kirsten laughed softly at her dramatic youngest member, glad that she was able to enjoy the blue team’s performances again without crying. The second the music started, Y/n was seated, her eyes trained on the monitor before them. She screamed and cheered throughout the routine, and as the song began to approach the slower part she got more excited

“oh I’m so excited to see what they did for this part-” and the second Bada was down on the floor, Y/n honestly thought she was having a heart attack. It only got worse for her as the music picked back up and the Bebe leader looked over her shoulder, grinning charismatically at the camera while she grabbed her ass and shrugged like it was nothing.

Y/n’s jaw stayed dropped after she let out a surprised screech. Ling and Audrey also let out similar noises, while the latter reached over at the same time as Emma to cover Y/n’s eyes, knowing how she’d be having a mental breakdown if she kept watching. The performance ended and Y/n sat there in silence with her jaw still dropped to the floor

“I think I’m having a crisis…”

The next team to perform after Bebe was Lady Bounce, which was good but not too memorable. 1 Million followed with an insane performance. The second Harimu’s silhouette was shown, Y/n gasps. The routine starts and she’s clapping and cheering, as well as the rest of her team, all of them excited for what was about to happen. Throughout the entire performance, she’s squealing and screaming because her bestie is eating everyone up (side note: Y/n has so many besties, and the audience loves that for her). The routine ends and every single team is blown away. Jam Republic unanimously agrees that 1 Million has shown the best performance so far, with Y/n enthusiastically agreeing

“Not bebe?” Emma teases and to be completely honest, Y/n didn’t think it was funny

“No. 1 million was by far the best I’ve seen so far- it was flawless” And the members felt kinda bad for teasing her because they could see her become a bit more reserved and serious after that, sinking into her seat on the couch with her arms crossed over her chest.

After that, it’s finally Jam Republic’s turn, as the final team to present their piece. The music begins and Y/n struts out from behind her members with the cuntiest game face out of all the contestants so far, and everyone goes feral. Her hair, her expression, her confidence, and especially her outfit had them all in shambles. All of 1 Million, but specifically Redy and Harimu were gassing her up before she even started dancing, the crew thinking of ways to convince her to join them after the show.

“Can we just combine teams already?” “Or at least take Y/n onto our team??” Mannequeen was asking each other questions like this, also plotting how they could continue working with Jam Republic

“That’s my girlfriend!” Lusher cheers and Bada just about breaks her neck- she looks like she’s going to cry at first until she realizes the younger dancer was just joking. She really almost just gave the leader a heart attack, and now Bada felt her face heat up at how embarrassing that reaction was…

They reach the part of the choreography where the other members bend over, and Y/n squats down in between them as she opens and closes her legs, and once again no one is safe. Not a single monitoring room was quiet as the youngest Jam Republic dancer dropped low into the position and flawlessly executed the choreography along with the presentation of facial expressions.

Team Bebe was not discreet at all as they all freaked out and simultaneously turned to face their leader, who was already hiding her dropped jaw behind her hands. Bada bit her fist as Y/n got down on the floor with the rest of the Jam Republic members and began to arch her back up and down in a sort of crawling motion. The move was so simple, but effective as it showcased the sexy vibe of the song.

Jam Republic finishes off strong with the final chorus into the ending pose, and it was safe to say they left everyone astonished. The camera captured the final group pose before zooming in on each member of the crew, leaving Y/n for last. When she appeared on the monitor everyone lost it at how her siren eyes and seductive expression turned into a somewhat playful puppy-like reaction as her eyes widened and she stuck her tongue out, continuing to fan herself but in a cuter manner than before.

“OHHHH ENDING FAIRY LET’S GOOOOO” Harimu cheers with her full chest as her friend appears on the screen

“HOW IS Y/N THE YOUNGEST????” Buckey commented out of absolute shock and astonishment after seeing the girl’s performance

“SHE’S BARELY AN ADULT HOW DOES SHE KNOWN HOW TO DO THAT” Mini screamed, throwing her hands up in the air

“I’ve been an adult for a while and i still don’t know how to do that…” Halo mumbled after her teammate’s inquiry, causing the rest of the crew to laugh and agree

“Ya- they need to put the baby to bed. Don’t let her do that!” Biggy teased, pouting and whining playfully as her members agreed with faux pouts

“She really wanted people to stop babying her I guess…” Tatter calmly stated as she leaned back into the couch with her arms crossed, smirking as she kept her eyes trained on the monitor. The team snickered as Bada slowly turned her head toward the blonde with a deadpan expression, unimpressed with her jab.

Once every team had gone and finished presenting their routines, it was time to get changed and wrap up for the day. Each crew left their monitoring room to head back to their designated hideout spaces and decompress after the events of the day, and await the results of the winning team. Jam Republic was full of giggles and confidence after their successful performance as they bounced down the hallway.

"ya, y/n…" the small girl whipped around with wide, somewhat fearful eyes and it lowkey made Bada's heart hurt to see her react that way

"yes?" she tried to speak steadily and confidently, but bit her lip and shrunk into herself a little, trying not to outwardly cringe, when she realized how meek and anxious she sounded. The tall girl across from her sighed and softened her gaze, seeing how unnerved y/n was.

"you did a good job." Bada confidently said as her team was about to walk past Jam Republic, shocking everyone on both teams (including herself). Y/n's lips parted and everyone watched as it quivered slightly and her eyes began to get red.

"ah no, no don't start crying…" the older leader tried to remain serious and civil, keeping the distance between them. The younger dancer bit her lip again and took shaky breaths as she frantically nodded her head while wiping away tears. Bada sighed again before taking a few quick strides over to her, not caring about the audience of both their teams. She placed a gentle hand on top of the shorter girl's head, gently ruffling her hair.

"ayyye don't cry" This time Bada tried to be more gentle and took the approach of some friendly teasing in hopes of at least getting a smile out of her, but it only made things worse as y/n looked up at her with a huge frown and teary eyes. She really was trying her hardest to stop crying, but nothing was working. Poor Y/n was just so happy to have Bada back at this moment. The look just about finished off what was left of Bada's heart. Any part of her that hadn't been touched by guilt yet was now overthrown by it. She felt her own eyes begin to sting a little as the pressure built up but didn't allow for any tears to form.

"Y/n-ah don't cryyyyy" Bada whispered softly as she gently reached to hold her face in both hands, wiping away the endless tears. This caused the younger girl to fully burst into tears and attempt to hang her head as much as she could in Bada's hold, but as soon as the tears increased the older girl was pulling y/n into her chest, hugging her as if she had no plans on ever letting go. Bada closed her eyes trying to keep her own tears at bay.

The other members of both teams just stood clumped together off to the side, absolutely baffled by what was happening. A majority, if not all of them had dropped jaws or dumbfounded expressions. Lusher had to cover her mouth after letting out a squeak of excitement when Bada put her hand on Y/n’s head. It was a small moment, but a huge step for both girls.

“You did amazing, so don’t cry anymore, okay?” Bada whispered after pulling back from the hug, leaning down slightly so their faces were the same level. Y/n nodded and sniffled, wiping away her tears and finally pulling herself together.

“Thank you- you too…” she gave a watery smile as she hiccuped and the two giggled slightly over the situation. The older dancer smiled sadly and nodded before heading back over to her team. As they began to walk off Tatter turned around

“Congratulations Jam Republic- you all were fantastic- WE LOVE YOU!!!” the blonde screamed enthusiastically making a giant heart over her head with her arms, causing the rest of her team to follow and also share their love and praise for the team. The pink crew just smiled brightly and laughed, before shyly mirroring their reaction. After both crews went their separate ways and made it back to their hideouts, Y/n stood in the middle of the room as her teammates settled in.

“What’s up, Bunny?” Audrey asked, with a worried expression as she saw Y/n’s confused but teary eyes. The girl looked up and burst into tears again on the spot. All the members were shocked at the sudden outburst and ran to comfort her.

“She said I did good…” the girl bawled as her members hugged her. They all tensed for a short moment before bursting into a fit of giggles at how cute and sentimental their baby was. She eventually calms down, reducing her sobs to sniffles and soft hiccups. About 45 minutes to an hour passes before the staff is letting everyone know that a winner has been decided. 1 Million receive the 100 points benefit that came with being the group chosen by Hwasa, meaning their choreography will be performed and used for the music video.

The following day, everyone begins preparing for the music video. All the other crews learn 1 Million’s choreography and practice it in preparation for the shoot which would be happening the day after. When everyone gathered to get into hair and makeup for the video it felt fun. Not stressful, or competitive, just fun- and all the dancers were truly grateful for that.

Each crew had been given a portion of the song where they were able to perform a bit of their own choreography, highlighting their efforts as a whole production. They were able to tie up the shoot within just one day of filming, giving all the crews an extra day of rest before having to officially start working on their final mission before the finale.

y/n had been walking toward the set’s dancer lounge to grab a few snacks when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. The girl quickly turned around and became face to face, or rather face to chest, with the dancer she still wasn’t on the best terms with.

“Hey…” Bada whispered once she made eye contact with the smaller girl, removing her hand quickly as she realized it was still resting on her shoulder. Y/n stood speechless, trying to force herself to at least utter a ‘hey’ back, but she couldn’t find the strength.

“Can we talk?” the leader continued softly, voice wavering ever-so-slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice. To Y/n, Bada seemed confident and relaxed as her soft eyes peered down at her. It should’ve been comforting not seeing any signs of her being tense or upset, but the question alone made the younger dancer tear up, already feeling heavily emotional.

“Uh… yeah… yeah, of course” Y/n spoke meekly, not being able to hold eye contact for more than a couple of seconds at a time as she stood in front of the other girl. Bada glanced over at Kirsten and nodded, giving her a nervous tight-lipped smile as the younger leader gave her a gentle look of encouragement paired with two thumbs up.

The two walked in silence for a bit as they separated themselves from the majority of people, finding a less occupied area to chat. Once they arrived at a moderately secluded area and Bada stopped walking she turned to the younger dancer who stood stiffly with her arms crossed and shoulders tensed.

“So… how have you been?” Y/n starts shyly, trying not to seem too uncomfortable but internally cringing once she realizes how formal she sounds. Bada tried to suppress her frown, hating how awkward things had become, but then again, it all made sense.

“Well… uhm… I’m not doing terrible haha…” she tried to joke around while still being honest, but quickly realized none of her small-talk humor was going to get a laugh out of the other girl

“I actually haven’t been doing great since we last… talked…” she continued, becoming a bit more serious with her tone

“I’ve been thinking a lot- actually all I’ve done is think… about the things I said, about why I acted the way I did, about how to approach you, about how I should’ve done this sooner, and especially about you…” Bada rambled off all of what’s been occupying her brain recently

“All I do is think about you…” she breathed out, causing the other girl’s own breath to catch in her throat as her eyes widened slightly. Y/n bit her lip looking at the floor and blinked rapidly trying to avoid the stinging feeling in her eyes that was already beginning.

“I’m so sorry Y/n.” Bada whispered, starting to feel her throat tighten. The younger clenched her teeth and closed her eyes tightly as a singular tear slid down her cheek, before sniffling and looking back up to meet the tall girl’s gaze.

“That’s all I needed to hear…” she whispered with a sad smile, causing Bada to smile softly for a moment before furrowing her brows slightly

“But you deserve so much more than a simple apology-” the leader spoke seriously, still being conscience of her tone so as to not get too worked up

“It’s okay- I really don’t think I do… I said some terrible things too-” the younger sighed as she spoke

“Well of course, but that doesn’t mean what I said was okay… that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be trying my hardest to make up for the thing I said and how poorly I treated you…”

“We’re both equally at fault here-” Y/n was nearly cut off by the persistent dancer

“Well, I wouldn’t say equally… I definitely don’t think you were as cruel as I was… not like it’s a contest or anything but I think the impact this argument had on both of us was mostly my fault… especially since the things I said were aimed to hurt you…” Bada tried not to seem pushy, not wanting to cause another argument, but she was set on getting her point across

“I mean… I kinda deserved it-” Y/n chuckled humorlessly as she looked at her shoes, kicking the ground. Bada’s jaw dropped in absolute shock at how the girl honestly thought she was meant to hear such awful things directed toward her

“No, you didn’t, stop saying that! No one deserves to be talked to like that and I feel absolutely disgusted with myself for saying the things I said… I am SO so sorry y/n” The leader spoke up, voice raising slightly with urgency, desperate to get her sincerity across. The younger dancer struggled to find words momentarily, wanting to say ‘it’s okay’, but realizing that it in fact wasn’t okay at all

“...I accept your apology, Bada, I promise…” Y/n clearly stated after a few moments of thought

“Thank you…” Bada sighed, shoulders relaxing slightly

“I’m sorry too… I was acting immature and childish, and it was really all just because I was hurt by your decision- a decision that I understood had to be made…” and it was true- the girl really did understand why her team was chosen, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less

“Y/n’s you don’t need to apologize-” At Bada’s words it was now Y/n’s turn to be shocked. Even if the girl wasn’t as harsh, she surely was responsible for her own thoughts and actions.

“Of course I do… I need to apologize just as much as you do- for christ’s sake I was the one who caused the whole argument…” She started seriously with furrowed brows, but then her face softened as she continued

“I’m sorry for not trusting you… and for acting like a child-”

“You weren’t acting like a child, you were acting like someone who was under a lot of stress and that’s completely understandable-” Bada cut her off, already feeling the guilt arise again at the memory of how she’d called the younger girl childish and immature

“But I could have handled it so much better-”

“As could I, but we both saw how that actually turned out…” Bada finished with a light teasing smirk, causing Y/n to crack a bit of a smile herself before sighing again and biting her lip as tears filled her eyes

“I also shouldn’t have pushed you to talk about something you weren’t ready to talk about… so for that, I’m also sorry” the Bebe Leader added to her apology, gazing at Y/n with a soft heartfelt look. The younger was staring at the floor again as she sniffled before speaking

“I’m so sorry Bada-” Y/n whimpered as another onslaught of tears began falling. The older girl gently pulled her into a hug, wrapping her arms around the shorter girl’s shoulders and leaning her chin on top of Y/n’s head.

“Shhh… We’ve both apologized and talked it out- let’s grow from it and move past it now, okay?” the tall girl whispered against the younger’s head, running her hand over the other’s hair, smoothing it down softly

“We should probably work on not talking over each other too…” Y/n mumbled against her chest, feeling the light rumble of laughter as Bada chuckled. Noether had realized the leader had started crying as well until she sniffled and reached up to wipe away her tears without even realizing it.

“There are a lot of things we can work on together- good and bad…” Bada leaned back slightly to look down at the girl, who lifted her head to meet the taller girl’s gaze.

“Yeah… together…” Y/n whispered breathlessly with a relieved smile. The tall dancer couldn’t stop the grin from spreading on her face as she was finally able to stare into Y/n’s sparkling eyes again.

taglist (closed): @tinybada @angel-hyuckie @violetinferno @jesuschrist2006 @1luvkarina @uwulyn @justandloyal2961 @deadgirlwalking3 @squidvoldyvoid @vivzyo @ouhaika @jksjx @ocyeanicc @marianamartinsthings @jxrdxnh @luvjanexx @lorenztired @khjssss @heavenlycloud @loisje123 @starchasermyloves @zhivaxo @grinnwolph @notyourd0lly @stinkbvgs @nermandiiiii-blog @arujee @idontknownemore @thatgayinsomniac @fruitr0llup @cgriffin9797-blog @woooooya @kaaylvst @ssc7514 @astoreea @linda-botello @kpopgirl-97 @erikook @misszoldyc @sammisregrets @jysai @moonsvrse @froufrousnowman @amararosesblog @tikitsune @aestrelle19 @laaaasanielzz @randomhoex @tswisal1 @unpretty-reader @charlesswife @stella222

#moth to a flame #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee #bada lee x reader #street woman fighter x reader #bada x reader #swf2 x reader #swf2

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houserautha · 8 months ago

Text

These Destined Ends

Part 6

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: (I’m kind of rusty about appropriate warnings so let me know if there’s something I need to add or correct) You dose yourself with poison, he cuts his arm with a knife, you drink his blood, knife play, oral sex female receiving, dirty talk, p in v, some light praise, dubious consent, inappropriate use of a dagger/anal, he fucks you and the dagger essentially fucks him, breeding/pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, creampie, black cum ofc, no aftercare

A/N: Alright this chapter is…a lot. The knife scenario I read a few years ago in “Den of Vipers” by K.A Knight and it completely changed my brain chemistry. It inspired me to include a similar situation because it’s so Feyd coded😂😭

Also credits to @sansaorgana for mentioning how Harkonnen blood would be thick and effected by Giedi Prime’s environment and pollution. I love discussing Feyd’s body fluids

Weeks pass before Feyd-Rautha corners you in one of the Baron’s sparse gardens. Garden being a slight exaggeration — really, it’s more of a barren courtyard with a bench. Until your fearsome betrothed strode in, your only company was a few scraggly bushes and the fledgling pilingtam tree keeping you in the shade.

Feyd-Rautha hooks his finger in your book and pulls it away. “Come with me.”

You glare balefully at him. “I was reading that.” It’s the only Harkonnen novel you’ve found that you can stomach. “You can’t just beckon me whenever. Or — and this is blasphemy, I know — you could just ask me if I want to go with you.”

Feyd-Rautha closes the book. “No.”

“You lost my page,” you say with a pout. You debate teaching manners to him again, briefly, before sensing that you’re fighting a losing battle. So instead you snatch the book from his hands.

“Two hundred and thirty eight. Now,” he fixes you with a stern look, “let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

Frankly, you don’t care where he’s taking you. Since the Crucible, you’ve been anxiously waiting for something to do besides answering questions about your upcoming nuptials. Your body aches for purpose. Movement. You also realize, with mixed feelings, that you would probably follow Feyd-Rautha wherever he asked you.

What did that say about your state of mind?

“It’s time for training,” he says.

You trail after him, vaguely disappointed that you weren’t going to finish your book. You tuck it under your arm. How bad could poison training be? Maybe you’d have time to flip through a few pages. Feyd-Rautha eyes you as if he can tell what you’re thinking, but doesn’t comment on it.

The fortress is in full swing for the wedding, which looms only a month and a half away. You would think that’s plenty of time to prepare. But servants are hanging decorations, comparing tasks, and cleaning everything in sight. They quiet as you and Feyd-Rautha stroll past them, and you search their faces for Asha.

She’s been just as busy as everyone else. Everyone but you, of course, who, despite your prominent involvement in the wedding, has been left to your own devices. You weren’t exactly thrilled to dose yourself with poison, but at least it gave you something to look forward to.

“How did you first go about this?” You ask the na-Baron. It’s a strange comfort to be in the presence of someone so unperturbed, confident and assured to a fault, sure, but you knew what to expect from him. He was an asshole, but he would be one regardless.

“Poison tolerance?” He asks.

“No, long walks through the fortress.”

Feyd-Rautha ignores you. “It’s a precaution, mostly. Poison-snoopers can be faulty or influenced. It also gives me an…edge…over others.”

“The others being…?”

“Political allies. Enemies.” You catch the hint of a grin on his lips. “It cuts a formidable image when your guest has no concern for poison.”

“As if you don’t already,” you retort.

“You flatter me.”

“Oh, like you’re not aware.” You roll your eyes. “Where are we even going?”

“Somewhere private,” he says.

You raise your brows. Feyd-Rautha pushes his shoulder suddenly against what you thought until that point was a wall, but it swings open on an invisible seam. “Not like that,” he says, amusement coloring his tone. “Although I could never refuse you, wife.”

The room he leads you into is mostly bare except for a few maps on the walls and a table in the center. You recognize the surface of the table as the topography of Giedi Prime, the vast plains and tiny boxes representing the plethora of factories. You ghost your fingers over it. “What is this place?”

“My strategy room.” When you glance at him imploringly, he sighs and adds in a resigned tone, “Sometimes I find working with the other nobles tedious. I spend my time alone if possible.”

“Hm.” You sit down at the table and try to imagine Feyd-Rautha presiding over it, testing out battle strategies and war maneuvers.

You must sink too far into your own thoughts because it startles you when he sets down a small glass in front of you, nestled in the space between two miniature factories. “We need to start small,” he tells you.

“What is this?”

“Poison.”

You shoot him an annoyed look. “It would just be nice to know what poison I’m ingesting, is all.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He plants his hands on the table and assumes a position that you have a hard time believing he doesn’t know stirs something dark within you. “I’m going to be giving you small doses of poisons most typically used throughout the Known Universe.”

“You’re so kind,” you mutter.

He nudges the glass closer to you. “This is the weakest one of them all. We can work our way up, gauge their effects on you.”

“Like what?” You think back to the day in the arena with Ze’ev, how the flip-dart hidden in his clothing quickly incapacitated you, turning your thoughts to sludge.

“Fatigue. Nausea. Potential fevers, chills, heart palpitations.”

“Oh,” you say miserably, “is that all?”

“No, actually,” he replies, oblivious to your fear, “but sometimes it’s better not to know. Drink.”

Your stomach twists with nerves. But he’s watching you in that anxiety-inducing way he tends to, so you tip the contents of the glass down your throat. He smiles.

Poison training is hell.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it’s not this — constantly being gripped by fatigue and nausea, your body battling persistently against the poisons.

The beginning was the worst. You had never thrown up so much in your life. Feyd-Rautha assured you that you were tolerating the poison better than most, but you highly doubted that. You were couch-ridden for days on end, too weak to move or do much more than eat the food he forced you to. But, slowly, you adjusted to the poison, and Feyd-Rautha gave you higher doses, stronger strains.

A week away from your wedding, he declares that he won’t give you anything new. “But you must continue to take the poisons from before,” he tells you. “Or your body will lose the tolerance and also go through withdrawals.”

Today, however, is one of the worst days you’ve had. You did everything right, but for some reason you were rendered completely helpless, body racked by intense shivers. You are huddled in the corner of the couch in the antechamber when Feyd-Rautha finds you, stopping him in his tracks.

“H-H-Hi,” you sputter.

He crosses the room in a single stride, ripping off your blanket and assessing your shuddering form. “You used too much,” he says accusingly.

“I-I-I did what you-you told me,” you protest, albeit weakly.

His frown pierces you. You’re afraid he’s going to reprimand you, but instead he takes a step backward. “Go to the bed.”

“I-I’m f-f-fine. I can s-stay here.”

He looses a sigh then, effortlessly, sweeps you off the couch and over his shoulder. You want to fight against him but it’s taking all of your strength not to shiver and let him know just how poorly you are.

“Put me d-down,” you try your best to say, but with your face buried in his back, it comes out muffled.

Feyd-Rautha resists your pitiful attempts of subterfuge, and carries you into the bedroom like you weigh nothing. It’s your first time actually being on the bed, and his faintly medicinal scent pervades your senses. Had you ever even seen him sleep in here before? How did it smell so strongly of him?

He props you up against the pillows. You attempt to pull up the bedding to ward off your chill, but he stops you, which requires little effort on his part. You blink. In reply, he reaches into the top drawer of his bedside table and takes out a blunt-looking dagger.

“W-What are y-you doing?”

Feyd-Rautha presses the blade of the dagger against his forearm, cuts a thin line that weeps with a thick, dark liquid that you realize is his blood. You feel dizzy.

“Wh-What —”

“Just stop talking,” Feyd-Rautha growls. “We clot quickly. Drink.”

Drink? You're not entirely sure how well your emotions are coming across in your current state, but he must know how insane he sounds. Well, more insane than usual.

"I-I'm not —" Before your eyes, his dark-colored blood ceases. He utters something under his breath and then puts the dagger to his skin again, cutting it back open like slotting an envelope.

He captures a drop of it on his thumb and pushes it between your lips.

It doesn’t taste quite as bitterly sweet as his cum, you decide, but possesses the same sharp bite. It sears slightly as it dances on your tongue, down your throat.

“More,” he says. He sits down at the edge of the bed and raises his forearm to your mouth.

With no other choices, you obey.

The blood is thicker here, his skin warm beneath your mouth as you lick at the shallow wound. Any strangeness you felt at his request vanishes as the potency of his blood hits you. You hungrily take your fill, and by the time the wound closes again, it’s chased away your chills and the murkiness evading your mind.

“There,” he rasps. He sets the dagger down on the bed, still sporting a trace of his blood.

“Why…why?”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips twitch. “Harkonnen blood is its own sort of poison, courtesy of our planet’s pollution and smog. I suspected it would be enough to counterbalance the poison already in your system.”

You fixate on the wound, how the blood has already congealed. “It stopped,” you say stupidly. But how could you be expected to think properly — you had just drank from his arm, from his blood, to stave off poison that you’d willing ingested.

Feyd-Rautha nods. “Another benefit.”

“Anywhere on your body? It does that?”

He indicates the dagger. “See for yourself.”

A chill runs through you, but now for an entirely different reason. You inch closer to him, tucking your legs under you. He’s agonizingly close, his dark gaze flickering across your face as you take the dagger and touch the tip of the blade to his chin.

“Is that just a ploy so that I’ll cut you?” You ask, heart pounding furiously. You discover with a sickening twist that you do want to cut him, want to slide the blade across his smooth skin and watch the way the blood rises to greet you.

Feyd-Rautha breathes, “Perhaps.”

You’ve never seen him so transfixed, so compliant. Eager. And with his very blood in your veins, emboldening you, issuing a high like you’ve never felt before — you press the blade into his skin. Blood trickles out, and you use your tongue to lick it up, the metallic taste of the blade mingling with the sharpness of his blood.

Next you take the dagger across his jaw, down the column of his throat to the divot that flutters with his pulse. And then down down down to his chest, shearing his shirt with a single slice.

Feyd-Rautha has an infuriatingly perfect chest — muscled, small, tight nipples that you tease with the edge of the blade. He inhales sharply.

“You’re disgusting,” you say without conviction, your free hand gliding down his toned stomach.

He tilts his face up to you. The gesture is so vulnerable, his expression so devastatingly beautiful, that you climb into his lap. His cock, straining against his pants, nudges your center.

“I hate you,” you tell him.

He whispers, “I know.”

There’s no telling who kisses who first — an impasse to your game of trading punishments. His hands are on you in an instant, over your body and in your hair, clamoring to touch you as if you might disappear at any moment. You’re equally as fervent, notching your thumbs by his jaw on either side and holding him to you, mouths open and hungry. His tongue dances over your lips, behind your teeth.

Feyd-Rautha is his own kind of poison, infiltrating you slowly and feasting on your insides. And you take him in like his kisses are the anecdote, the touch of his hands soothing the ache that his particular brand of poison causes.

Though, if he is poison, you can never imagine adapting to this — his passionate, consuming touch, the whine of his desperation, how he embraces you like it’s everything he’s ever wanted. No, if he is poison, you never want to learn to tolerate him.

His fingers work deftly at your clothes. The air rushes to caress your breast, hardening your nipples. Feyd-Rautha closes his lips on one as he palms his hand over the other, and the wet warmth of his mouth sends you to the edge. Your back bows in response, urging him closer. He bites down at your nipple, tugs on it, swipes his tongue over it like a soothing balm, then repeats the process on the other side.

As soon as your mind clears enough to form a rational thought, you fumble to unbuckle his pants. He helps you — one hand on your ass for support as he lifts up his hips and you wriggle his pants down over them.

His cock, liberated from his pants, slaps against his stomach. He fists the base and indulges in a series of lazy strokes.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” you say aloud.

Feyd-Rautha, returning his mouth to yours, smirks against you. “Your turn.”

He flips you over onto your back in a seamless maneuver, securing your legs around his waist. Feyd-Rautha lingers above you. His dark gaze roams your form as you shimmy out of your dress, leaving you only in your panties. Sometime before he grabbed the dagger, and now uses it to trace a line from between your breasts to your navel.

You gasp. Pain radiates from the thin cut he made, a terrible, delicious heat.

It’s his turn to tend to you now, hands coasting your body as he licks a stripe up your wound and back down, your blood blanketing his tongue. He pauses at your panties, uses both hands to seize you by the hips and drag you to the very edge of the bed, then kneels before you.

You’re already slick with desire and you want to be ashamed but you can’t, not when he ghosts his mouth over your center and you cry out in need.

“So wet for me, wife,” Feyd-Rautha growls. “You want this cock inside you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. You claw at the bedding, pulling it taunt around you.

“Oh, but I’ve been waiting for this. To taste you. God, you don’t know how hard it’s been knowing that you’re always just on the other side of that door.” Feyd-Rautha replaces his mouth with the dagger’s blade and you clench in anticipation. The tip of it traces the edges of your panties, your lips, nudges against your entrance. “You infuriate me. I cannot stop thinking of you.”

You’re too overwhelmed to make sense of his admission, but it sends a ripple of delight through you nonetheless. You buck your hips, desperate for the friction that only his mouth can provide.

“Please,” you beg.

The blade of the dagger stills. “Please what?”

“Please.”

You can’t think of anything else to say.

He urges, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I want your mouth on my —”

Feyd-Rautha impatiently cuts away your panties, effectively silencing you. His mouth encloses on your clit. Your words turn into a wail of surprise, of pleasure when he applies pressure with his tongue and then sucks.

Ecstasy spirals through you.

It shouldn’t be a shock that he’s skillful at pleasuring you, at lapping between your lungs like your cunt is the sweetest dessert, yet it still resonates — how he knows exactly when and where to lick, to suckle, to coax more pleading moans from you with his tongue.

And when you come you unravel completely.

“So greedy,” he murmurs as you rise your hips back up to him, beckoning him to continue. “You try to rebel against the idea but you want this cock buried deep inside you, coating you with my cum. Is that right?”

“Yes —”

He slams himself up to the hilt inside you. You cry out in equal parts agony and desire, back bowing, walls stretching to accommodate him. Feyd-Rautha doesn’t wait for you to adjust, drawing out and back in with feverish vigor. His hands pin you to the bed to keep you from arching away, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.

“You feel incredible,” he says, your name falling from your lips like a prayer. “So nice and tight.”

You clench around him. Feyd-Rautha mumbles his appreciation, slows his movements. “I won’t be able to last if you keep doing that,” he tells you, “you feel so good. So fucking good.”

You put up a protest as he withdraws, leaving you feeling horribly empty. Feyd-Rautha turns you onto your belly, ensures that your knees are at the edge of the bed, ass up. A mortifying heat surges through you — completely exposed, vulnerable to his wandering gaze. He runs his hand over your ass, drifts to your soaked cunt.

“I want to possess you wholly.”

You whimper in response. You hear movement from behind, and, in the absence of his attention, dip your hand down to your cunt to alleviate the mounting pressure, but you’re declined the pleasure.

“I didn’t say you could touch yourself.”

He lines himself with your entrance. This time when he seats himself inside you it’s painfully slow, deliberate, every inch driving you closer to another orgasm. Feyd-Rautha starts a slow pace, pulling his cock out till his swollen head brushes past your lips, then back in. Eventually he increases his speed until he’s snapping his hips against you, penetrating you deeply, fully, invoking breathless sounds from both of you.

Feyd-Rautha pursues his pleasure the same way he fights — violent, ruthless in its execution. You’re aware, somewhere in the recesses of your mind, that you’re going to be a quivering mess tomorrow. But in the moment you can only immerse yourself in this man: Feyd-Rautha, the na-Baron, a monster in his own right.

In a burst of bright light, an orgasm cleaves you in half, Feyd-Rautha pumping into you until it surrenders to his darkness. Before you can even recover, you feel the familiar coldness of the dagger’s blade biting into your back, down your spine, circling your ass.

He brushes his thumb over your ass. “Have you ever been taken here before?”

Your breath hitches. “Once.”

Feyd-Rautha emits a satisfied hum. From your peripheral you watch him reach into the bedside table again, this time to fish out a cloth to wipe down the dagger. Your walls clench.

“I want to see this dagger in that pretty ass of yours.”

Feyd-Rautha traces your cunt, gathering your wetness on his fingers to coat the handle of the dagger. He spits on your ass, rubs it over you. “You have to relax,” he rasps. The handle of the dagger pushes against you and you instinctively flex as the first ridge enters you. “Relax, wife.“

You oblige, and he’s able to ease the rest of it inside. It’s tight, full, uncomfortable, but not unbearable. When you feel Feyd-Rautha notch himself at your entrance, alarm seizes you. “What are you —?”

He plunges himself inside you.

And as he does, the blade of the knife punctures his skin with a soft squelch.

You gasp. A growl rumbles through his chest. You can’t see, but you can hear the blade pierce him with each ministration of his hips. You can’t believe him, what he’s doing, but the sounds he makes as he enters you and the dagger enters him at the same time are inescapable, intoxicating. And with the added fullness of his cock and the handle of the dagger, you build towards your orgasm, toes curling.

Feyd-Rautha sinks into you again and again, dagger piercing his side. It prompts a steady stream of his blood that joins with your slickness. His breath quickens. “You take my cock so well. Look at you, so full, so beautiful.”

He slows to remove the dagger from you, taking his time as not to harm you. You shudder. The dagger is tossed to the side still covered in his blood.

“I get to fuck this pretty pussy as much as I want,” he rasps, more to himself than you. “Fill you with my seed, over and over until it takes, then fuck you when you’re pregnant and round with my child. Fuck. I want to see you. I want to see your face as I cum inside you for the first time.”

The image he paints has you gasping for breath. Eager to please, you turn onto your back and present yourself to him. Feyd-Rautha is a god of war, of wrath, wreathed in shadows, and he buries himself into you like he’s seeking redemption. You cry out as he nears his own orgasm, tears blurring your eyes — he sheathes himself fully one final time then spills his seed in your cunt.

Your walls pulse, clamping down around him. He holds you close as he finishes, warm breath fanning your skin, jolting slightly. It’s only when he removes himself, bites playfully at your breast, that you realize the wetness you feel dripping onto your belly is his blood.

“Feyd — what, what were you thinking?” You shove him off you.

He stands, naked form on display, blood dribbling down from the wound in his stomach. It’s distracting, frankly, and it just reminds you of how it had gotten there.

“I wasn’t,” he says simply.

You open your mouth to say something else, reprimand him, maybe, but then he runs his fingers along your thigh and scoops up the cum that’s escaped from inside you. He pushes it back into your cunt, which is still beating with the memory of his cock, blissfully sore.

Feyd-Rautha says, “Don’t worry about me, wife. I will heal. You worry about keeping me inside you.”

He stands to walk away and as he does, you mutter to no one, “I wasn’t worried” although you were. You tilt your hips up. Getting pregnant isn’t exactly your top priority right now, but the alternative is having his cum dribble down your thighs, and the black fluid is a little concerning to see smeared across your skin.

What child could be born from such a substance?

You angle your head to see Feyd-Rautha. He stands at the threshold of the bathroom, back turned to you. You admire his physique. For all of his misgivings — his psychotic tendencies, the murder, the way he plays his games with you — he’s irritatingly attractive. You close your eyes and let your head thump onto the bed.

You open them again when you hear the bedroom door swing open. “Are you leaving?” You ask, exasperated.

“Yes,” Feyd-Rautha says. He’s dressed, sadly. “I have other business to tend to.”

You scowl at the implication of being business.

“I’ll be back before the wedding. Keep up with your tolerance. Just know that I won’t fuck you every time you over dose,” he tells you. A million questions jump to mind — and quite a few curses — but he’s gone before you can say any of them.

Spent and still reeling from your recent fucking, you collapse back onto the bed and throw your arm over your eyes. What were you doing?

You were going to marry him.

Part 7

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper

@beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @kpopnstarwars @m-indkiller

#dune #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfic #feyd smut #i am feral for him #FERAL

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miss-bushido · 2 months ago

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make the world safe and sound for you

written for @softsteddieseptember week 3, prompt ‘anniversary’

Rating: G

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

Steve pressed his face to the pillow and groaned. “No, my head hurts. Come back later.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Eddie murmured, pressing a light kiss to Steve’s temple, smoothing back some flyaway strands. “How late were you up?”

Steve groaned, tapping his fingers on the bed as he counted in his head. “Last time I saw the clock it said 4:30 AM.” He had been pulling all-nighters while working to get his Master’s degree. He was only a few months away from being finished with the program, and he just wanted to see the back of it.

Eddie winced. It was 7:30 AM. Normally, Steve would be up by 6 AM, ensuring he would see first thing the text messages or emails from his boss asking him to sub for one of the teachers at a local school. Eddie grabbed Steve’s phone and winced again. There were three missed calls from his boss, and a flurry of text messages.

“I’m making an executive decision,” Eddie announced, sitting on the bed behind Steve. “I’m telling your boss that you’re sick and that you won’t be able to sub anywhere today.”

Steve scrubbed his face with his hands. “No, I can-”

“Honey, I love you, but you’re talking out of your ass. You need to rest. You can’t expect to be effective with less than 3 hours of sleep.” Eddie put his fingertip to Steve’s plush lips to silence any further protests. “I’ll call her and let her know you’re sick, and that you should be more than fine come Monday morning. When was the last time you took a Friday off?”

Steve blinked, his eyes heavy and scratchy from lack of sleep. “Almost two years ago.”

“Exactly. So. Since you’re not going to work today, go back to sleep. I don’t want to see you downstairs before 9:30 AM, clear?”

In spite of how exhausted he was, Steve felt his stomach flutter at the tone Eddie used. “Yes, sir.”

Eddie smirked, unable to resist giving him a kiss. “Let’s save that for tonight, okay?”

“Daddy?” came a small, sleepy voice from the hallway. The bedroom door was pushed open to reveal their toddler daughter Rosie standing there, clutching her stuffed duck. “We’re thirsty,” she said, her voice low and rough in her throat. Her twin brother, Theo, was with her as he always was, clutching her purple sleep shirt with his left hand, his right thumb in his mouth.

Eddie’s heart swelled to look at them. He and Steve had thought long and hard about children after their marriage, and though they were fine with adoption, they wanted to try and have biological children of their own. Obviously, neither of them could get pregnant (not for lack of trying), so they spoke to the women in their lives; Nancy, Robin, Chrissy, Vickie, to see if any of them would be willing to either donate one of their eggs or become a surrogate, or both.

In the end, Chrissy said she would do both for them: donate her eggs, and be a surrogate. It was almost immediate that she became pregnant with the twins. When they were born, Eddie cried harder than he ever had in his life at seeing their chubby cheeks and bright eyes. He couldn’t believe it was three years ago that their little family was completed.

“You’re thirsty?” Eddie asked, holding his arms out for both of them to come in. Theo broke into a big toothy grin and ran over to jump on Eddie, his light brown hair bouncing . Both Steve and Eddie loved their children equally, and they knew the twins loved them the same as well. But Theo seemed to have an affinity for Eddie: following him around and looking very interested when he practiced his guitar. He even accompanied Eddie to some band rehearsals, but never to one of their shows. Maybe when he was older. He listened with rapt attention as Eddie read to them: The Hobbit, the Redwall books, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, and the paintings he did, while rudimentary, were clearly influenced by the stories.

Rosie could frequently be found snuggling with Steve: she liked putting barrettes in his hair, painting his nails and putting lipstick on him. Whenever they had a tea party, she put a silver tiara on him and a pair of ruby clip on earrings, telling him, "Papa looks so pretty."

How could Steve resist? How could either of them resist?

While her brother went to Eddie, she toddled over to the other side of the bed. She tossed her stuffed duck up and clambered up, crawling over to Steve. She looked the most like Eddie: she had his brown doe eyes and the waves of her hair were like his, though she took after Chrissy in terms of her strawberry blonde hair color, and the way she smiled. “Papa?” she asked, looking down at Steve. “No work today?”

Steve looked up sleepily at his daughter, unable to stop the big smile spreading across his face. “Not today, baby. Papa stayed up too late doing school work.”

“That’s silly,” she said, collapsing dramatically against the pillows. Steve had seen Eddie do that exact same thing more than a few times, and it always made him laugh.

“Papa is silly, Duck,” he admitted, quickly reaching forward and pulling her close, blowing raspberries on her neck, her shrieking giggles filling the air. He still had a headache, and her shrieks of glee were not helping, but he could bear it.

“I keep telling him that,” Eddie said as he sat back down, Theo leaning against him. Theo had Steve’s beautiful hazel eyes, but they were turning more towards green the older he got. His hair was dark brown and straight, and though he was quieter than his sister, the smile he had was pure Eddie. Both of them worried they would have a little hell-raiser on their hands as he got older and got more confidence.

“‘M still thirsty, Daddy,” Theo murmured against Eddie’s chest. He looked up at Eddie with his big eyes. “Choccy milk?”

“For breakfast?” Eddie replied in mock shock and awe. Theo immediately started giggling, tilting his head back as he watched Eddie perform. “There will be chaos if we move choccy milk time to morning instead of dinner.”

“Pleeeeease?” Theo pleaded. “Please Daddy?”

“Yeah! Pleeeeease?” Rosie shouted, jumping up from laying next to Steve, all but throwing herself on Eddie’s back.

“Oh! Attacked on both sides! The treachery! The betrayaaaal!” Eddie kept his left arm firmly wrapped around Theo before he hooked his right arm back to wrap around Rosie. He stood up, both of them in his arms. “Steve! Don’t just lay in bed! Save meeeee!” He yelled this while moving quickly out of the bedroom, giving Steve a knowing glance as he shut the door behind him with his foot.

Steve laughed at the display of his little family, though he was grateful that Eddie managed to get them out of the room and leave him in peace. He didn’t see his phone on the bed, so Eddie must have taken it with him. Which was good, as it meant he could fall back to sleep like Eddie wanted him to.

A few hours later, Steve woke up, feeling the warmth of a small body against his chest. He opened his eyes to see Theo snuggled up against him, snoring lightly. Behind him, Rosie and Eddie were also asleep. Both had their mouths open slightly, right arms above their heads as they slept.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispered, feeling happy tears well in his eyes.

#soft steddie september #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie x steve #steddie

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elzdaizy · 2 years ago

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Trouble After Paradise (Part 1)

Warnings: lots of angst, conflict, explicit language.

Summary of short story: Reader and Harry have returned from their honeymoon to a harsh reality and their first huge hurdle as a married couple.

A/N: This is 1 of 3 parts. Enjoy! Just a little short story idea i had and wanted to share with you all.

It’s been four weeks since you returned home from your honeymoon in Costa Rica and you’ve found yourself reminiscing constantly on that magical holiday.

To say the least, things have took a turn for the worst since you and Harry got home.

You were bombarded with mountains of piles of work to get through because there was no one to fill your position whilst you’d taken the month off leading up to your wedding, including the honeymoon.

Harry had started filming his next movie, one that was mentally draining due to his character being a very unwell mental patient at a psychiatric hospital.

You worked from seven in the morning until four in the afternoon in the office but always brought home some work to do which kept you busy until about eight at night when you’d get into bed.

Weekends were exhausting as well, you were catching up with friends and family after basically being off the grid throughout the week.

Harry’s shooting location, thankfully, was only a few hours away up north in Manchester so he managed to be home often between breaks but unfortunately meant that he wasn’t home with you for periods of times.

He tries his best to be at home with you on the weekends but his schedule doesn’t work that way all the time. On average you probably see each other a total of two days out of the week and it’s been this way the past four weeks.

You’ve both been so busy, you’ve barely had the time to live life together as a married couple. There’s a tension building full of stress and exhaustion on both ends of your marriage. You find yourselves bickering when you’re together and getting on each other’s nerves more than ever before.

You know it’s because you’re equally annoyed with yourselves and each other with the current situation.

It’s 8pm on a Friday night and Harry called you earlier that morning to let you know he’s coming home today at around 6:30pm and will be able to stay the full week until he’s off again. He asked for you to pick him up from the station because he had booked a meal at The Ivy for 8pm. You of course said yes. You were so excited to hear the news, you felt tears well up in your eyes. “I really can’t wait, I miss you so much.” You replied before you both said your goodbyes and I love you’s before hanging up.

What you didn’t know was that working would be busier than ever that Friday and now you’re still in the office trying to hurry up and finish off one last piece of paper work to be sent off to your client before the weekend. Your phone had died two hours ago and Harry hadn’t contacted you before it died so you weren’t too concerned that he would’ve tried to since then.

You could cry out of frustration. You purposely stayed back to get all this extra work done so you could book off Monday and Tuesday to extend your weekend to spend some time with your husband.

Half an hour later, you finally send the email and pack up your stuff. You race to your car and make your way home. The door is unlocked when you go to turn the key and your heart skips a beat when you realise that Harry must be home.

The lights are all off downstairs which is odd so you make your way upstairs to your bedroom to find Harry sat on the edge of the bed in just his underwear and his phone in his hands.

“Hi, baby.” You softly speak up as you walk through the door and put your bag and coat over the chair in the corner of the room.

Harry glances at you over his shoulder briefly without so much as a tiny acknowledgment of your presence before looking back to his phone.

You frown, thinking his behaviour seems a bit off. The energy in the room seems low and you can sense he’s not in a good mood.

You walk over to him, a hand on his shoulder and the other hand reaching to lift his head by tilting his chin in your direction for him to look up at you. As soon as you try to lean forward to place a kiss to his lips he yanks his head away from your touch and rolls his eyes, letting out a huff.

You step back, very offended and extremely hurt by his cold actions.

“Fuck you, then.” You throw your hands up and storm away to head downstairs to the kitchen. You’re literally trying so hard not to break down and cry right now so you’re pacing around your kitchen, breathing heavily for a few moments then deciding to pour yourself a large glass of wine.

You almost down the first glass. The second one being poured less than five minutes later. You’re just stood by your kitchen island with a glass of wine in one hand and thoughts racing around your mind as you try to figure out why your husband seems to despise you at the moment.

You soon realise it could possibly be the fact that your phone was dead and maybe he was trying to get ahold of you.

You start to feel a pit of guilt in your stomach when you take your phone from your pocket and plug it into the charger point next to your toaster.

You finish your second glass of wine once your phone switches on and your eyes widen when you notice the ten missed calls and five unread messages from Harry.

You read the texts carefully one at a time.

From Harry:

6:09pm - l’m fifteen minutes away from the station if you want to set off now. Love you. Xx

6:30pm - Where are you? I’m waiting near the security box until you’re here. Xx

6:53pm - I’ve rung you five times and you’re not answering so I’m making my own way home now.

7:26pm - Why aren’t you answering and why aren’t you at home? You do realise we have to be at The Ivy in half an hour.

8:03pm - cancelled the booking. If you read this before you come home - don’t bother me when you get in, I can’t be arsed with this tonight.

You heart feels like it’s going to stop. You have never felt more terrible in your life. You feel like a punch to the gut is what you deserve right now and nothing less. And to think, you literally just spat in his face and said fuck you to him, still not realising what you’d done.

You were so fixated on wanting to spend the week with Harry that you’d completely forgotten about picking him up and going out for dinner tonight.

You were a little drunk and very upset with yourself so of course the only thing currently you did was start to cry. You sat on a stool at your island, lent your elbows on the countertop, put your face in your hands and sobbed. Sobbed for your husband and how upset he must be feeling. Sobbed at the realisation of how much you hurt him and let him down. You felt like a failure.

After about thirty minutes of letting your feelings flow out of your system uncontrollably, you composed yourself and prepared yourself to go and apologise profusely. You’d gone over what to say in your head a million times and nothing sounded good enough but you know the least he deserves is an apology rather than an explanation or excuse right now.

Your face is puffy and red from the crying as you shakily walk up the stairs to your room and find Harry is now laying under the covers with the tv on, watching a movie with a deep frown on his face. As if he’s in deep thought rather than paying attention to the screen.

You push the door open gently and let yourself in. Basically walking with your tail between your legs, you can barely look at him as you sit on the bottom corner of the bed on your side. You couldn’t be further away from him on the bed if you tried.

“Harry, I’m so sorry.” You croak. Lips quivering as you fight the urge to break down crying again. You finally look at him after your first attempt at the beginning of a long apology. He’s ignoring you. Keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and his arms crossed over his chest.

You decide to keep speaking, “I completely understand why you’re angry and I don’t want to give myself any excuses for-.”

He reaches for the remote and turns up the volume to drown out your voice.

You let out a shaky sigh. A tear slipping down your cheek. “I didn’t ignore you on purpose- look, can you please just say something?” You beg pathetically and Harry’s head turns as his eyes look at you with anger.

“Told you I can’t be fucked with this tonight just leave me alone, please.” He sighs in annoyance before completely turning his back to you as he lays on his side.

You really don’t know what to say now. You didn’t expect this reaction from him. He’s never been this angry with you before and it’s terrifying you slightly because you really can’t cope with it. You don’t even care if he shouts at this point, you just want more of a reaction from him.

He has every right to feel the way he does, you know that. You hate going to sleep on bad terms though. You both agreed to always resolve conflicts before getting into bed because you never wanted to be that couple that gets into fights and makes one or the other sleep on the sofa.

It seems like it’s going to be that way tonight though. You don’t want to say another word because you don’t want to make it worse. Even though you know you won’t get much sleep, you decide to go sleep downstairs on the couch. You could go sleep in the spare room but you need a tv to distract you from your racing thoughts so the living room it is.

You get up from the bed, go take a quick shower and change into your pyjamas before grabbing your pillow from your side of the bed and walking towards the door.

“Goodnight, Harry. I love you.” You say to him softly before closing the door behind yourself and making your way downstairs.

You turn on a shitty reality show to fall asleep too. It takes a few hours but eventually you drift off.

The next morning you’re awoken by the sound of the blender rattling off in the kitchen. You feel at peace for a split second as your groggy memory clears up as your consciousness comes back, along with the awful events of last night. You grimace start yourself as you sit up on the couch and turn around to see Harry standing in the kitchen, making himself a smoothie, dressed in his running gear.

It mustn’t be any later than 6am because he only likes going running at the crack of dawn. He hasn’t noticed that you’re awake yet but you know he’s still fuming by the look on his face.

Now that you’re not intoxicated and knowing it’s a new day, you’re determined to resolve this issue very soon. You don’t want to waste any more of the short time you two have together for the next four days being bitter.

You get up from the couch and stretch before walking over to the kitchen island and taking a seat on the stool you were sobbing on last night.

“Morning.” You say with a tired voice as Harry still hasn’t acknowledged you whilst he’s cleaning up some dishes. You’re both facing each other on opposite sides of the island.

Harry looks up at you frowning and doesn’t reply so you take it as your queue to go in strong with all guns blazing.

“Can we please talk about this now?” You plead. Harry just deadpans and looks at you with a look that tells you no as he picks up his AirPods and puts them in as he makes his way to the door to go on his run.

“What the actual fuck! This is an actual fucking nightmare.” You frustratingly shout to no one but yourself after Harry closes the door on his way out.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles and y/n #harry styles angst #part 1

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local-hyena · 2 months ago

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SO I'VE JUST WATCHED THIS AND I AM GOING TO GIVE MY THOUGHTS ABOUT EVERY LITTLE THING

First of all, here's the synopsis.

We got a lot of details here !! Tube's Tube. I don't really understand why, but it sounds funny. 12M viens and 12,000,000 likes. Why 12 ? Is it a hint towards à 12th game ? There are currently 11 Ace Attorney games. This vidéo recaps pretty much everything (except the prof Layton crossover...), so it MIGHT point towards a new game :). On the right of "Likes" and "Share" there is "DL|6" :). We cannot see how many subscribers Nick has, but since the video has lots of likes, I think it's safe to assume that he has a good amount of subscribers and that he is possibly a youtuber (in this version of the AA universe at least). On the right we can see 3 other videos : MUST WATCH - Top 3 Bedtime Picture Books by Laurice Deauxnim-Scented Adventures with 3.8K views uploaded 2 weeks ago. We don't know when Nick's video was uploaded (most likely more recently than two weeks) but maybe Larry is a more successful youtuber than Nick ?? Also, I'm pretty sure that Franzy's Whippity-Whip Trip is in this video :). Then we have Her Benevolence dances the Panic Dance by Kingdom of Kura'in Embassy with 3.15M likes and uploaded 1 (idk) ago. Idk who this character is so uh, idk what to say. But "Panic Dance" sounds fun heh. Then we have No Objections Judge's gourmet courthouse specials by His Honor Eats with 2 views uploaded 21 years ago. Poor old Judge :(. Also, Capcom is plastered everywhere. I mean, this video is part of marketing so of course.

Now, let's move on to the actual content of the video !

You. That's you, Phoenix

Wording, Phoenix. Wording.

So Klavier can canonically produce guitar sounds out of thin air ?? I thought it was extradiegetic. Well I guess that's handful when he has to do a concert but forgot his guitar, heh !

This is peak comedy right there. Man I love Ace Attorney.

ACE ATTORNEY AND GHOST TRICK CROSSOVER WHEN ??? (Still gotta play Ghost Trick and finish AA lmao)

This image is cool.

Oh, Nick, honey... that's the kind of reference that I like heheh

I WOULD LIKE TO DISAGREE. ALTHOUGH YOU *COULD* START AT THE APOLLO JUSTICE TRILOGY (I'vo only played the first of this trilogy) WITHOUT BEING TOO LOST, YOU WOULD MISS A LOT OF CHATACTER DEVELOPMENT AND WOULD NOT QUITE UNDERSTAND HOW THE CHATACTERS GOT THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE.

YES PLEASE MILES TELL US ABOUT THE STEEL SAMURAI <3 <3 <3

ALSO ! Turns out that ERIC VALE did Phoenix's voice. ERIC VALE the anime voice actor !!! Thatcis so cool. I didn't recongize Edgeworth's VA (cuz i've only watched the first anime episode + the bloopers) so... idk do your own research I don't care that much honestly. How about the "Objection!" Voiceline actors tho. Who are they. They're the closest to their official voice actors.

Anyways, tl;dr : this is a recap of all of Ace Attorney (minus the Layton crossover) + Ghost Trick. There is the number 12 at the beginning and Ghost Trick is mentionned, so my theory is that they're planning a 12th game which is a Ghost Trick crossover :)

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gegengestalt · 7 months ago

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131 useless or often forgotten facts in The Brothers Karamazov!

This 27 of April is the second anniversary of the day I finished this book for the first time. To do something special, I reread it over the last 20 days and as I did it, I compiled little things that are easy to forget in these 1000 pages filled with food for thought. Let's go!

1. Mitya fought in a duel, though it's most likely that nobody died in it.

2. Ivan's journalist pseudonym is "Eyewitness".

3. Alyosha, in his own words, came back to Skotoprigonyevsk to visit his mother's grave.

4. Fyodor Pavlovich owns several taverns in the district.

5. Grigory was the one who gave Sofia Ivanovna a proper gravestone.

6. Alyosha is one deduction away from becoming a communist.

7. The Brothers Karamazov begins in late August.

8. Kalganov is supposedly Alyosha's friend. This is never mentioned ever again.

9. Kalganov gave one coin to some beggars and told them to divide it among themselves.

10. There is a rumour that the previous elder beat people with sticks. This is false.

11. Alyosha is the only person in the monastery who knows that Rakitin is an atheist, and keeps his secret.

12. Four years ago, Pyotr Miusov divulged a fake story about a saint making out with his own decapitated head. Fyodor never forgot.

13. Madame Khokhlakov is only 33 years old. She has been a widow for 5 years, meaning Lise lost her father at age 9.

14. Zosima's serenity in front of the woman who confesses to a murder may foreshadow his later recollection of having a murder confessed to before.

15. Zosima likes to make jokes.

16. Lise and Alyosha last saw each other two years before.

17. Reminder that Grushenka met Mitya because Fyodor wanted her help to throw Mitya into a debtors' prison.

18. Kuzma Samsonov is the mayor of Skotoprigonyevsk.

19. Ivan rambled to Dmitri and Katerina about how he thinks Rakitin will be a failed journalist turned landlord.

20. Fyodor Pavlovich's house is filled with rats.

21. The Miusov family had their own private theatre.

22. Lizaveta Smerdyashchaya was a bit over 142cm/4'7 tall.

23. In 1842 there was a runaway convict called Karp commiting crimes in Skotoprigonyevsk.

24. Marya Kondratievna's mother is missing a leg.

25. Mitya ghosted a girl in real life.

26. Katerina's mother died when she was young.

27. Mitya had a fever for two weeks once because of a spider bite.

28.Mitya thought Grushenka was "nothing striking" the first time he saw her.

29. Mitya was squatting in his neighbour's rented room.

30. Fyodor Pavlovich has a portrait of the former provincial governor in his house.

31. Fyodor Pavlovich goes to sleep at 3- 4AM, like Dostoyevsky himself.

32. Sofia Ivanovna was being courted by a rich man called Beliavsky while she was married.

33. Who was the woman coming from the alley that Mitya mistook for Grushenka? I still wonder.

34. A cheap glass jar was destroyed during Mitya's frenzied break- in.

35. Katerina sends two detailed reports a week to her surrogate mother figure who lives in Moscow.

36. Katerina has an aquarium.

37. Alyosha sleeps using his monk habit as a blanket.

38. Father Ferapont survives eating nothing more than 1,6kg of bread a week.

39. Ivan had told his father about his feelings for Katerina, for some reason.

40. When Alyosha kissed his father, he had the impression that Alyosha was thinking that it was their last conversation.

41. Madame Khokhlakova owns three houses as property.

42. Madame Khokhlakova and Katerina Ivanovna are supposedly great friends.

43. Ivan reads Schiller when nobody is looking.

44. One of Snegiryov's daughters, Varvara, is invested in feminism.

45. Captain Snegiryov's childhood friend is a lawyer.

46. Mitya spilled cognac over the table of the summerhouse.

47. Smerdyakov sings in falsetto.

48. Marya Kondratievna is the only one who ever calls Smerdyakov 'Pavel Fyodorovich'.

49. Ivan uses Smerdyakov as a messenger.

50. Dmitri and Katerina had been engaged for around six months.

51. Ivan's right shoulder looks lower than the left one when he walks.

52. Smerdyakov often moves the tip of his right foot from side to side when he stands (adorable).

53. Dmitri's favourite death threats are "pounding in a mortar" and "breaking legs".

54. Grigory suffers from paralysis three times a year.

55. The real name of 'Lyagavy' is Gorstkin.

56. Zosima's real name is "Zinovy".

57. There was actually another old German doctor before Herzenstube and he was named Eisenschmidt.

58. Zosima has known Brother Anfim for forty years.

59. The Bible is thrown once.

60. Madame Khokhlakova asked Rakitin to go to the funeral as her eye.

61. Alyosha was hiding behind the grave of starets Iov, who lived 105 years.

62. Zosima was harshly criticized for telling a monk hallucinating to take his meds if praying doesn't work.

63. Both Grushenka and Rakitin are children of deacons.

64. Samsonov is the only person that Grushenka seems to be completely and clearly sincere with.

65. Likewise, Samsonov only trusts her when it comes to counting money.

66. Samsonov has the entire first floor of his house for himself.

67. Mitya tells many of his secrets to his landlords, who are fond of him.

68. Alongside eggs and bread, Mitya grabbed and ate a piece of sausage that he "found".

69. Mitya and Perkhotin first met at the Metropolis tavern.

70. Mitya's dueling pistols are his "most prized possessions".

71. Madame Khokhlakova apparently borrows money from Miusov.

72. The brass pestle was 17 centimetres long.

73. Mitya spent exactly 300 rubles in food and alcohol in Mokroye, and it would have been 400 if Perkhotin didn't help.

74. Mitya gave a glass of champagne to a kid.

75. The owner of Plotnikov's shop is called Varvara Alexeievna.

76. Two thousand villagers live in Mokroye.

77. Trifon Borissovich makes his younger daughters clean up the messes of every guest of the inn.

78. Pan Wroblewski is 190cm / 6'2 tall.

79. Madame Khokhlakova gets a migraine whenever she has to talk to Mitya.

80. The ispravnik's elder granddaughter is called Olga, and the night of the murder was her birthday.

81. The prosecutor's wife seems very interested in sending for Mitya often, for reasons he doesn't know.

82. Mitya does not know that the epidermis is the outer layer of the skin.

83. Nikolay Parfenovich is the only person in the world who trusts Ippolit Kirillovich.

84. Mitya often dreams that a person that he fears is chasing him and searching for him.

85. Nikolay Parfenovich wears a smoky topaz ring on his middle finger.

86. Pan Wroblewski is a dentist without a license.

87. Kalganov had visited Grushenka once before, but she seemed to dislike him for some reason.

88. Kolya's father died when he was a little baby.

89. There was a plot going on in the background about the doctor's maid having a child out of wedlock.

90. Rakitin often talks with Kolya. Seems like the only person who takes his ideas seriously is a literal child.

91. Smerdyakov and Ilyusha met and talked to each other.

92. Alyosha rarely gets colds.

93. Katerina befriended Snegiryov's sick wife.

94. Kolya was taken to a judge for teaching a guy how to efficiently crack the neck of a goose.

95. Kolya is against women's rights.

96. Mitya and Grushenka spent five weeks secluded and away from each other after the arrest.

97. Grushenka went to see Grigory to try to convince him that the door wasn't open.

98. Rakitin made up in an article that Madame Khokhlakova offered Mitya 3k rubles to run away with her.

99. Madame Khokhlakova doesn't remember Rakitin's patronymic, and calls him "Ivanovich" instead of "Osipovich".

100. Madame Khokhlakova didn't know of the judicial system reform until two days before the trial.

101. Lise sent chocolates to Mitya in jail, even though there's no reference to them ever interacting before.

102. Alyosha has had the same dream about the devils that Lise has.

103. Alyosha is friends with the jail inspector, who often discusses the gospels with him.

104. Mitya spent two entire nights awake since he discovered ethics.

105. Ivan cleans his own room.

106. Smerdyakov shared a hospital room with an agonizing dropsy patient.

107. Mitya's letter had the bill on the other side.

108. Smerdyakov uses garters with his stockings.

109. There is an apple tree in Fyodor's garden.

110. One of Ivan's "most stupid" thoughts is being the fat wife of a merchant.

111. Ivan had a friend named Korovkin when he was 17, the one he told the story of the quadrillion kilometres to.

112. Ivan has another poem named Geological Cataclysm.

113. Alyosha was the first person the distraught Marya Kondratievna ran to.

114. Ivan is mistaken for "the eldest son" twice in the trial.

115. Grigory did not remember he was in 1866.

116. Rakitin knows "every detail" of the biography of Fyodor Pavlovich and all the Karamazovs.

117. Grushenka's surname, Svetlova, means "light".

118. Mitya once dropped 100 rubles while he was drunk.

119. Ivan saw not just the Devil, but people who had died while he walked in the street.

120. Ippolit Kirillovich died nine months after the trial, the first and last day he received applauses.

121. Marfa is dismissed as a suspect simply because they can't imagine her killing.

122. There is a partition wall in Mitya's lodgings.

123. Mitya mostly stopped staring at the floor during the prosecutor's speech whenever Grushenka was mentioned.

124. Fetyukovich bends forward in an unnerving manner when he speaks.

125. An 18 year old street vendor committed axe murder earlier that year.

126. The verdict was given past 1AM, making the trial last almost 16 hours.

127. Katerina kept the sick Ivan in her house knowing it could possibly be harmful to her reputation.

128. Rakitin tried to sneak in to see Mitya in the hospital twice.

129. Lise sent the flowers that adorn Ilyusha's coffin, and Katerina paid for the grave.

130. Snegiryov cries seeing his late son's little boots the same way one of the women at the monastery in the beginning of the book did.

131. At the end, Alyosha mentions "leaving the city for a long time" soon. Where to? We don't know.

If you read this far down, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing all of these down.

#the brothers karamazov #fyodor dostoyevsky #I had made a thread on twt about this but decided to post it all at once on tumblr

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albertasunrise · 2 months ago

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Hopelessly Blind - Hope

Masterlist

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (Sorry this has taken a while. Trying to do as much writing as I can, when I can, but ya know how it is 🤷🏼‍♀️😅… hope this was worth the wait 😘)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

The weekend of Joel's BBQ was quickly upon you. You had originally planned to bail and had concocted several, of what you thought were solid lies, to get yourself out of attending the event. Still, when Tommy had bumped into you at the bar a few days prior whilst you had a few drinks with Simion, a chap from work you had started seeing, he had invited him too. So now you were stuck with no good reason to avoid what you knew was going to be a painfully awkward afternoon.

Simion was nice. You had been on a few dates since Sandy had come onto the scene. You had hoped that getting back out there would help put a dampener on these feelings you had for Joel but alas, those pesky butterflies still tore you up inside when you knocked on Joel's door and was greeted by a smiley Sarah.

"Hey, sweetheart." You said sweetly as you pecked her on the cheek "Noah is just grabbing the desert from the car if you wanna help him." You finished with a wink, chuckling as she sprinted out the door.

You announced your arrival and placed the beers that you had bought in the fridge, rubbing your sweaty palms down the front of your jeans. You turned to Simion and gave him a nervous smile before motioning your head in instruction to follow you outside. There you found Joel getting the grill set up whilst Tommy set up the lawn games. Ali was already there, having had a sleepover with Sarah the night before.

"Hi, Mum." She called out from her spot on Joel's swing seat, her nose of course buried in a book.

"Hey, baby." You called out as you placed a kiss on the crown of her head "You enjoy your sleepover with Sarah?"

She nodded excitedly before going into detail about the movies they'd watched and how Joel had braided their hair so it would be curly for today. At the mention of his name, you turned to see him watching you closely, his eyes then flicking to the man beside you and you could have sworn his features grew darker.

"I hope she was okay?" You called out to him as you took a few nervous steps closer.

"Yup. Good as always." He replied rather abruptly and you winced at his tone.

Yes… this was going to be an exceedingly painful afternoon.

Once the food was served and beers were in hand, things went from bad to unbearable. Tommy had spent an hour interrogating Simion but to your surprise, the man took it in his stride, chuckling at how absurd some of the questions were.

"We just wanna make sure you're gonna treat our girl good, right brother?" Tommy stated as he nudged Joel but his brother simply shrugged.

"Sure."

Tommy gave his brother an incredulous look, his brows drawing together before he returned his attention to you and the man sitting beside you. You couldn't help but notice how cold Joel's behaviour was. Just a week ago he was practically pleading with you not to bail on all the small traditions your two families had started and now he was looking at anyone and anything but you. He'd barely spoken two words to you either.

"Where's Sandy?" You asked a little while later. The woman's absence had not gone unnoticed and you had also noted that no apologies had been given by either Joel or Tommy for her absence.

"We broke up." Joel replied casually with a shrug of his shoulders and you couldn't stop the look of surprise from spreading across your face.

"Oh?" You said as you tried to bury the small thrill that ran through you "I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"

"I'm sure you are." He replied coldly and you felt your patience snap.

"Do you have a problem, Miller?" You growled, taking a small amount of satisfaction from the look of surprise that filled his face as he looked at you "You've been an asshole to me and Simion ever since we arrived."

"Babe."

"No!" You interrupted your date as you continued to rip into Joel "We don't need to put up with this." You growled "Ali, baby get your stuff we're leaving. Noah sweetie, can you help her and meet us by the car."

"But mum-"

"No buts." You said sternly, not taking your eyes off of Joel "Just do it please."

Ali and Noah didn't answer back. They simply scurried off and did as you asked, leaving you, Tommy, Simion and Joel in an increasingly charged situation. When you finally broke your staring match with Joel, you stormed into the house to gather your things. Simion helped you, grabbing a few of your things and taking them to the car for you, desperately trying to get out of the house and away from what had become one of the worst afternoons you'd ever experienced. You could hear Tommy screwing at his brother through the kitchen window and you tried to ignore how satisfying it felt for the younger Miller to stick up for you for one.

You were finishing up portioning the pudding you had made into bowls and covering them in clingfilm when Joel walked into the kitchen. He watched you as you finished what you were doing before finally piping up.

"You didn't have to do that." He said, his tone different from how it had been prior to you blowing up at him.

"I made enough for all of us. Tommy and Sarah shouldn't have to miss out just because you decided to be an asshole." You growled as you placed the bowls in the fridge "Heat it in the microwave for 3 minutes when you want it." You stated before covering the rest of the desert.

Joel called your name as you scaled his kitchen but you refused to look at him. Carrying the desert over to the table, you grabbed your coat and slung it on.

"Will you just stop a moment!" He growled out and you did but still you didn't look at him.

"I'm sorry okay." He sighed as he scraped a large hand over his face "I was being an asshole… I just. I have shit going on okay and I took it out on you."

"If you have shit eating at you, you can talk to me, Joel."

"Can I?" He asked and it was your turn to look confused "Just last week you were telling me that you were going to be too busy to hang out and now you're here with a guy and-"

"What does Simion have to do with this?" You asked and Joel's mouth snapped shut as he looked away, unable to answer your question "Thanks for a lovely afternoon, Joel." You snorted as you picked up the desert you had brought and headed to the door "Not." You mumbled under your breath as you walked out the door, leaving a very guilty older Miller in your wake.

"So you just let her go?" Tommy asked as he walked in from the garden "Not gonna tell her why you've been such an insufferable ass this afternoon."

"She's with someone now. Doesn't matter." Joel growled out before walking back outside, noting how Sarah was sitting on the swing seat with her own book in her hands. He could see that she'd been crying and he felt his anger come to a head but not at you. At himself for his inability to just let shit go.

Noah found you that evening, sitting on the couch nursing a coffee and he assumed it was likely dosed with Baileys. It was your go-to drink when you needed cheering up and after the awkward conversation that he had overheard between you and Simion earlier, he knew you likely needed some cheering up.

"You doing okay mum?" He asked and you nodded before taking a small sip of your drink "You need anything?" He asked and you shook your head.

"No thank you, sweetie." You said, your voice cracking as you spoke "I'm sorry about earlier."

"Don't be." Noah said as he sat down beside you and pulled you into a comforting embrace "I'm sorry about Simion." He said after a while and you let out a shuddering breath before taking another sip of your coffee.

"Don't know what I was thinking with him, to be honest." You sighed, wiping your tears away with your sleeve "Too soon after your dad anyway."

"You know… Just before he died, Dad told me something." You looked at Noah with furrowed brows as you waited for him to continue and the boy smiled at you "He said that you and Joel had been pretty sweet on each other before he came along."

"Noah-"

"He said that he knew that the two of you were just hopelessly blind to it." He continued as his eyes drifted to a framed photo of Alec on the wall "He said that he'd always felt a little guilty for getting in the way of you two finding each other but that he was two head over heels not to want to keep you for himself."

You chuckled at that, your own eyes then drifting to the photograph that your son was looking at.

"You know it's okay." He said after a short pause and you looked back at him again "If you and Joel want to be together. I'd be okay with it."

"But Sarah…"

"We'd work it out, mum." He said as he smiled sweetly at you "All I care about is that you're happy and if being with Mr Miller does that then who are we to stop you."

"It doesn't matter baby." You said, stroking his dark locks and giving him a soft smile "Joel doesn't have feelings for me."

"But-"

"Let's just drop it okay?" Noah nodded but he knew that you were hiding something. He just wished you'd let yourself be happy for once.

A knock at your front door tore you away from the TV show that you had on but you weren't really watching. What Noah had said to you was still running laps in your mind and you didn't know what to make of it. Had Alec really been able to see how you felt about Joel?

Answering the door, you were surprised to see Joel standing there. Scratching the back of his neck nervously as he shifted from leg to leg as he waited for you to say something.

"What do you want Joel?" You asked, trying to feign disinterest at his sudden appearance at your door.

"Can we talk?" He asked, his brown eyes killing any resolve you had.

You motioned for him to come in before making your way to the kitchen, pouring him a mug because you knew he'd want one. He thanked you as you handed him the mug and then you both proceeded to sit in awkward silence for what felt like an age.

"So… what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"I wanted to apologise for earlier." He replied, staring at the black liquid in his mug "I was an ass and you and Simion didn't deserve that."

"You're right." You grumbled and he looked at you then, noting your expression was impossible to read "We didn't."

"I wanted to apologise to him too but I guess I'll have to when I next see him."

"We broke up." You stated plainly and Joel's head jumped back at this piece of information.

"Why?" He asked and you snorted.

"Why do you think?" You growled, "He was invited to a BBQ at the house of the chick he's dating's best friend's house and said best friend acting like a complete Hozer all afternoon."

Joel uttered your name but you continued.

"As soon as we got back he told me that he couldn't get involved in whatever drama we had going on and left." You finished as you threw back the last of your coffee.

"I'm sorry." Joel muttered again and you let out a humourless laugh as you stood to refill your drink.

"Yeah well, so am I."

"Look I-"

"Why were you being such an ass?" You interrupted him again, leaving him to flounder for an answer "I'm sorry that you and Sandy broke up and all that but it's not fair to take it out on me."

"We broke up because of you." He rushed out and your mouth snapped shut as your eyes grew wide.

"What do you mean, because of me?" You asked after a short pause and Joel let out a long sigh before he answered.

"After that night when you told me that you wouldn't be around a while, she came over and I was talking to her about what it was that I had done wrong." He started and you shook your head as you answered.

"You didn't do anything wrong Joel."

"But then she told me that you had feelings for me." This statement made your body jolt and you opened your mouth to answer but didn't get the chance "She said that it was really obvious that you had feelings for me so I went to your house to talk to you about it…" He trailed off as his eyes grew sad at the memory "I parked up across the street and I was about to get out of my truck when you answered opened your door and there was Simion."

"Joel-"

"I knew she was wrong but to see it with my own two eyes just felt like a punch to the gut." He sighed "So a few days later I called it off with Sandy. Then Tommy told me he'd run into you and your new boyfriend and that he had invited him to the BBQ and I just… I dunno I just wanted to hate him so badly because he was with you and-"

Joel didn't get to finish his sentence. He was silenced by your lips on his and pulling away you grinned at him like a cat who'd gotten the cream before saying "She wasn't wrong." The two of you stared at each other for a moment. The air between you crackled with pent-up energy before you were both kissing again. You both allowed 10 years' worth of feelings to bleed into this kiss. You both felt like you needed to make up for lost time. Like if you stopped this kiss, the moment would disappear like a puff of smoke and it would have never happened.

So you didn't think twice when you opened Joel's jeans and pulled out his straining erection. Grinning at the whimper your hand around his member pulled from him. You climbed onto his lap and in the blind of an eye, your underwear was being pushed to one side and you were sliding down his impressively thick length.

You rested your brow against his as you allowed yourself a moment to adjust. It had been a while since you'd fucked anyone so the burn was both delicious but also took your breath away. Yet, when his hands cupped your ass and urged you to move, you soon found yourself languidly bouncing on his lap, moaning into his mouth as he hit your sweet spot as if he were made for you.

"Fuck, you feel incredible." He purred in your ear as you fought hard not to scream his name, his thumb not rubbing your needy clit and bringing you closer to your orgasm.

"Fuck." You whimpered as you bounced a little faster in his lap "Fuck Joel… you're gonna make me cum." You sobbed and he grinned.

"Cum." He purred in your ear and you did, squeezing him so tight that he fell over the edge with you.

Then the two of you were left panting in each other's arms as you soaked in the after-sex bliss. Kissing each other lazily as you came down from your highs.

"What does this mean?" You asked after a pleasant bout of silence and Joel smiled as he answered.

"It means, can I take you for dinner this week?" You smiled at him sweetly as you kissed him in answer, feeling him start to harden inside you again.

"Definitely."

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #last of us #the last of us #joel miller gif #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gif #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #last of us fanfiction

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waterfae · 13 days ago

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A Good Pillow [Part 5]

Summary: A glimpse of your budding friendship with Ominis and your growing feelings after the events in the Scriptorium.

Pairings: Ominis Gaunt x Reader, Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mild language, angst, comfort, fluff, friends-to-lovers, unhinged Slytherins, complicated relationships, house-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, no beta

Word Count: 2.4+ K

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

|| General Masterlist || Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist ||

The scratching of quill against parchment and the sound of turning pages had stopped ages ago, but you paid no mind to it until you began to notice the slow, deep breaths coming faintly from behind you. You lifted your gaze from the plants you were pruning and turned towards the table Ominis had situated himself in order to work on his Charms homework; he had once again fallen to his infamous naps.

You smiled at his sleeping form before returning to your task.

Ominis decided several days ago to stop visiting the Undercroft and opted to spend more time with you in the Room of Requirement instead; an attempt to begin his avoidance of Sebastian. You had protested at first, uncertain of how he would react if he knew exactly what it was you were doing in there and also desiring for the two young men to work things out. But one look at his disheartened expression and his promise to not pry, immediately made you reconsider; you felt that you owed him this reprieve.

Looking back on it, you should have realized that responding to Sebastian’s most recent letter would only cause more tension between your two friends – would only hurt Ominis even further. But you didn’t. Or maybe, if you searched deeper within and were truly honest with yourself, you actually did, but willfully chose to turn a blind eye. And for what in exchange? A clue to find the final piece of the triptych. As much as you disliked the thought now, perhaps Sebastian had been right all along: you and he were indeed kindred spirits; more alike than you preferred.

When you found Sebastian’s owl perched upon a chair near your bed earlier that week, you had debated whether to even accept the letter or not; still upset with how he had treated you after finding out you were working alongside Lodgok, still upset that he had physically attacked Ominis and for whatever reason, could not tell you why. You only did so when you realized the accursed animal refused to leave until you snatched the parchment from its talons. It took you another day or two to muster up the courage to finally read the contents and send a reply; an act you now regret as it threw you back into the middle of the conundrum that was Slytherin’s Spellbook and the dark relic it led to; a relic that may have just put the final nail in the coffin of what had been the Sallow-Gaunt friendship.

Which brought you to your present predicament. You finished pruning and collecting the various ingredients, placing them in different satchels and vials and readying them for later use; you needed to stock up on potions before your next quest with Sebastian in a couple of days. After cleaning up, you finally decided it was a good time for a break and took the seat beside Ominis. He was still sleeping soundly, enchanted quill forgotten, and his head laid upon an outstretched arm over parchment and books.

You propped up an arm upon the table and leaned against it, using it to support your head as you quietly watched him, adoringly at first, until the guilt began to seep through; a guilt that had been slowly building up over time since this…you didn’t even know what to call it. A Courtship? You thought. No. The two of you were not courting; it had never been discussed. So much had happened since that night in the corridor, that the opportunity to have such a discussion never arose and just when it began to look like one would, something else would suddenly have to take precedence; Sebastian’s relic for instance or, more recently, another keeper trial.

It was because of this that you didn’t push for the conversation you initially had so desperately wanted to have; you realized quite quickly that the timing was abysmal. Thankfully, Ominis did not either; he must have sensed it. Instead, he continued to stay by your side just as he had, still asking for naught – so long as you didn’t fall into using the dark arts as Sebastian had. And you didn’t. With the power of ancient magic you possessed, you honestly didn’t need to, but he didn’t know that just yet, so you made the promise anyway to put his mind at ease, even if it was only slightly. He continued to fuss about other things, regardless.

But, you promised yourself, when it was all over, you would tell Ominis. Everything. You didn’t like lying or keeping secrets from him, but you also wanted to keep him from the burden that was suddenly thrown onto your shoulders. So you had to. That’s what you told yourself at least. Too much was at stake and too many people you cared about were already involved to some degree: Professor Fig, Sebastian, Natty, and Poppy. You had even put Amit at risk, stupidly, you had to admit. He was wise enough to back out promptly after the one venture and rightfully so. You couldn’t add Ominis to that list; the thought alone pained you. You could only hope that in the end, Ominis would understand. You were attempting to save the entirety of the wizarding world after all.

You let out a heavy sigh and scooted your chair closer to the sleeping young man, positioning yourself so that you too could rest your head down onto the table and used your outstretched arm as a pillow in the same fashion as Ominis had. Completely parallel now, you longingly gazed at his handsome features, seeing the peacefulness and once again choosing to keep it there for as long as you could.

‘I will tell him. Just not now.’ You thought to yourself as you reached out towards him to brush a hair that had fallen out of place, ‘One day. Once I have it all figured out and he no longer has to worry; hopefully it’s soon. I will tell him.’ Your hand then fell and gently placed it upon his own.

Ominis stirred, his eyes remained closed but a small smile suddenly found its way to his lips. He squeezed the hand you had placed on his and shifted closer towards you, the fingers of his outstretched arms that he used to cushion his head now lightly brushing against the ones above yours. He was so close now, you could feel his warm breath upon your face.

‘Only a little while longer.’ You inwardly tried to reassure yourself as you closed your eyes and felt his forehead come forward against yours.

You had to hand it to Sebastian and give credit where it was due: he truly was a man of his word, just as he had claimed at the beginning of this partnership. Despite your disagreements and fights, the dark deeds, and deterioration of friendships, he’d always had your back – from day one and even till now. That was what kept your loyalty to him in return – what made it always so difficult to say no to the charismatic Slytherin – as much as Ominis protested. It would have been wholesome, had you been blind to the more impure motives between you: you needed him to complete your mission just as much as he needed you to complete his. Kindred spirits, truly.

There had been a small part of you though– for just a sliver of a moment – with all the conflict between the pair of you, that you had expected for him to scratch the whole plot and abandon you; leave you to figure out the rest on your own. He’d been so engrossed in Slytherin’s Spellbook and so upset with your business with Lodgok, you imagined it so. Adding in the events of the relic and your displeasure of what you had witnessed at Feldcroft that caused Sebastian to be disowned by his uncle, you wouldn’t have been surprised. Yet here you two were traipsing along a mountainside together in the dead of night. He had not yet forsaken you.

You could feel the tension however, as you trekked up the trail. It was his impatience and perhaps even some awkwardness; after all, it was the first time you had been together since the incident at Feldcroft – also, since Ominis had stopped interacting with him and Sebastian knew that Ominis spent much of his time with you now that he was avoiding him.

‘Small talk’ he had said, not wanting to make the trip in complete silence and an option that was in all likelihood much more safe than any other, lest it trigger another row. As aggravating as some of his quips were, you could understand that. But something else came to mind besides small talk; you’d rather ask the question that had been nagging at you for days. You stopped in your tracks and turned to have a good look at your companion.

“Something that’s been bothering me…” You started with a pant, “I’ve asked Ominis about it, but he says it’s not worth repeating. That it might only bring up unnecessarily bad feelings.” You paused, still out of breath and placed your hands on your hips, “But you’re not one to shelter me and I’ve given you enough time to ponder, so out with it. What did he say that set you off?”

Sebastian paused, placing a hand on one of his knees for support and also out of breath from climbing over the numerous rocks. “For once, I agree with him.”

“Sebastian.” You said sternly.

There was a momentary silence as he turned away from you, “I never apologized, did I? Not really. We talked about it, but I never actually said anything.”

You tilted your head to the side, confused with his response.

“I’m sorry.” He said as he finally looked you in the eye, “For using the cruciatus curse on you.”

You stared at him blankly at first; you hadn’t expected that and it took a moment for his words to register. When they eventually did, you found yourself completely bewildered, “Sebastian, that...that was months ago.”

“I know.”

“And we already discussed it.”

“I know.”

“So, why are you bringing this up now?”

“You asked what it was that Ominis said.”

Your mouth fell open as it dawned on you and he recounted that particular evening.

“Go ahead.” Ominis seethed, fists balled up tightly at his sides, “Hit me. I can feel it, you want to.”

Sebastian laughed bitterly, “I’m not about to hit a blind man, especially one that’s suppose to be my friend.” He released the lapels of Ominis’s jacket and straightened up his robes. Sebastian had every intention to walk away and leave Ominis where he stood. That is until he heard Ominis’s next words. It was barely a whisper, said remarkably low that despite the crowd that had gathered, no one else but Sebastion could hear it.

“But you’d used the cruciatus curse on a defenseless young lady.”

Sebastian instantly saw red and without a single thought, spun on his heel and struck him in the jaw, yelling, “She wasn’t defenseless! She volunteered!”

Ominis toppled down to the floor with such force, it caused the onlookers to gasp, some had even screamed.

“That doesn’t make it right!” He yelled back as he struggled to get back up, “She worries for you and you take her for granted.” He was finally on his feet, wiping the blood from his split lip, “I see it now and you don’t deserve any of it. Or her.”

More people had gathered and the crowd was quickly growing rowdy.

“You don’t know her half as much as I do. You don’t know the things we’ve been doing – what we’re willing to do – in order to save the ones we care for.” Sebastian spat as he rubbed the ache from his fist, “So stop talking about things you know nothing about.”

“That may be true,” Ominis staggered forward, “but I do know one thing: if you keep going down this path you’re going, Anne is not the only person you will lose.”

“I said stop talking!” Sebastian pulled his arm back and threw another fist, connecting this time with his cheek.

Ominis stumbled back and was caught by a fellow Slytherin who helped him to regain his balance. He sensed Sebastian’s angry footsteps and heard the animalistic growl as he stalked towards him. Instinctively, he pulled out his wand from within his robes and cried out, “DEPULSO!” sending Sebastian careening across the common room.

“He knew.” Sebastian added darkly, “He knew it was a soft spot for me.” He continued to stare you down, “I’m still glad we got that spellbook. I’m happy to have found something that we could use to help Anne. We did what we had to do, but that doesn’t mean that I...that I enjoyed hurting you.” He gripped his wand tightly, “You think I didn’t notice? How you avoided me after that? How differently you looked at me? I hated it.” Frustrated, he ran his hands through his hair.

“I – I didn’t know.” You breathed, not realizing that he was still carrying that around within his heart. You had assumed that after your conversation with him about the incident and the promise to get passed it, that it was exactly what you had both done. Neither of you ever mentioned it again.

“That’s why when you had asked last time, I told you he was being disrespectful and talking about things he didn’t understand.” His expression softened then, “I know I haven’t been a very good friend to either you or Ominis as of late,” He took a step towards you, “You and I are always in some kind of row. Ominis won’t even talk to me anymore. I’m angry all the time. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t care.” He reached out suddenly and took hold of both your hands. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise; I wouldn’t still be trying to help you.”

You looked down at the hands that held yours – a vice grip, desperately clinging – and then looked up at the young man in front of you, his eyes as intense as his hold.

“Ominis doesn’t believe me, but I do care. I do.”

You’re only response was to nod, unable to formulate any other response as his admission and a hundred other thoughts swam around in your head. It appeared to be good enough for him. He smiled and began to pull you along back towards the path up the mountain.

“Let’s go get that last piece of the triptych then, shall we?”

a/n: Thank you once again for the continued readership! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡ I've also started a taglist, so let me know if you would like to be added.

taglist: @cherry-cola-100 @moonsickness-posts

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #reader #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfic #🧚🏻‍♀️࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟfaefic

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milkandhwaney · 1 month ago

Text

all my works can be found here

Between The Pages

was feeling so sappy and wanted a romantic jongho im crying :(

Summary: you and jongho, the owner of a small local bookshop, have been hitting it off for some time now. cue a romantic, steamy night when you stay back while he’s closing shop.

WC: 2.7k

Tags: fem!reader, non-idol!jongho, smut, pet names, oral (f recieving), some light dirty talk, soft jongho im fdsgkzgkj, we love communication, unprotected sex (wrap it uuuuup), fluff

Disclaimer: this is purely a work of fiction and in no way represents the members

The sun was setting, the purple sky fading into blue rapidly as you approached the bookshop. The stars and crescent moon lit up the sidewalk since the streetlamps were flickering on and off incessantly. Thankfully, your town was made up of quite the crowd of night owls, so being out alone when it was dark was hardly, if ever, unsafe. Restaurants were open until 1 AM every day, even on some holidays. If people weren’t out eating and drinking, they were walking, talking, or working out in the dark.

As you arrived at the door of the bookshop, you took notice of Jongho in the window, dusting the potted plants that were hanging from the chipping ceiling tiles. He gave you a small wave, and you smiled back.

Jongho was the owner of your town's one and only bookshop. To keep up with the (almost) never sleeping inhabitants, he kept it open until midnight each day. Whilst his employees started their shifts at its opening of 10 AM, he always sent them home by 6 PM, deciding to run it on his own for the remaining six hours. Truthfully, the shop wasn’t so busy after 6 PM as these remaining hours of the night were usually required by most to be spent catching up with deadlines, chores, and family. You didn’t mind, though, because that gave the two of you time to chat without an onslaught of customers. Having moved into town a few months ago, you needed to make some friends. It didn’t take long for Jongho to catch your eye. You first noticed him when you were on your way home from your first day at your new job. He stood in the window of the shop, carefully stacking books into an abstract shape. To this day, the sculpture continues to be on display for everyone to see as they walk by.

That one moment was enough to keep you taking the same route home every day, and you always observed him during the ten seconds it took you to pass by the shop. Eventually, you decided to actually start going into the shop. You were an avid reader, though your job had been taking so much energy from you at the time, you really didn’t have the freedom to enjoy the leisure activity like you used to. Once you and Jongho began to strike up small conversations during your visits, you decided to make it a weekly venture. His passion for literature reignited yours, and you’d often spend the time reading each other a few pages from your current favourite reads, if not just discussing life in general. These days with him reenergized you and gave you something to look forward to, which was extremely helpful when your weeks felt like they were dragging.

You entered the shop, your nose instantly being filled with the smell of parchment and cinnamon. Jongho had a habit of lighting fragrant candles in each corner of the shop, and it made for a lovely experience for everyone who visited.

“Hey, y/n,” he greeted, stepping away from his spot in the window, “I’m nearly finished dusting, I’ll meet you in a few minutes?”

“Sure,” you nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Jongho gave you a small nod, and you made your way towards the far left corner of the shop. This was where you and Jongho met when you’d come around. It was decorated with fairy lights, salt lamps, and the floor had a nice pile of soft cushions for the two of you to sit on. Technically, it was the reading corner for anyone, but when it was late in the evenings and no one else was around, it was your corner. This particular night, Jongho had asked you to stop by closer to closing time. You weren’t sure why, exactly, but he mentioned wanting to spend time with you afterhours. Of course, your mind jumped to a million conclusions, but you tried not to get swayed by the thoughts too much. Why he asked you to stay late could mean many things… right?

Just as you settled into the soft pillows, Jongho appeared in front of you. “I have something I want to show you once I’m all closed up,” he said, “but, before I do that, I wanted to read you this beautiful poem I discovered today.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Every time he spoke about literature, you felt like you were falling in love with him all over again. Of course, you had yet to tell him your feelings, though. You were completely focused on him as he began to utter poetry.

Silence

In the arms of my lover, I find peace

Silence

In the arms of another, I cannot speak

Silence

You breathe every piece of life into me

Silence

With you, only I can be

Silence

It is comfortable with thee

Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in every word of the poem, each locution resting deep in your soul. “Wow,” you expressed, “that’s beautiful.”

“I actually wrote this,” he admitted, a light blush rising to his cheeks.

“No way!?” Your mouth fell agape at his confession. “You’re an incredible writer, Jongho! Do you have others?”

He nodded. “I’d be happy to share more with you sometime.”

You smiled widely, biting your bottom lip ever so slightly. “I’d like that.”

Whilst Jongho finished up the remaining closing tasks in the shop, you contemplated on the poem he shared with you. Who was it about? You wondered. Does he have a partner? He never mentioned it, though to be fair, despite how many conversations you’d shared with one another, this topic seemed to have never come up. In any case, it was beautiful. The way he articulated silence and the beauty of it when it’s shared with someone you love.

“All finished,” Jongho said, suddenly reappearing in front of where you lay resting on the cushions. “I’ll need you to get up for what I want to show you, though, so I have to interrupt your comfort for a bit,” he teased playfully, holding out his hand for you to grab.

You groaned dramatically, then laughed, taking his hand and allowing him to help you up off the ground. He carefully led you towards the back of the shop, stopping in front of the door that read EMPLOYEES ONLY. You’d seen him come in and out of it many times, so you assumed it was the office. Slowly, he turned the knob and pushed the door open, revealing a dimly lit room. The walls were aligned with bookshelves while a small desk sat against the back wall with an armchair beside it. When you looked down at the floor, you noticed a small blanket surrounded by flameless candles. A bottle of wine, two glasses, and charcuterie board sat in the center of it. Jongho closed the door behind you.

“What’s this?” You asked, confused yet mesmerized by the set up.

“I- um,” Jongho stuttered for a moment, giving your hand a squeeze, “well, we’ve been talking a while,” he continued, “and I’ve grown really like you. So, I wanted to take you out on a date. This is the best I could do for now, given my work schedule.”

You gasped, your free hand lifting to cover your mouth in surprise. “Jongho,” you breathed, turning to face him, “this is absolutely beautiful. Thank you.”

“I hope it’s alright,” he replied.

You nodded. “More than alright. I’m happy to go on a date with you.”

He looked at you, eyes yearning for more assurance. They were filled with gratitude, nervousness, and excitement. “Phew,” he sighed, “I was actually terrified you’d say no.”

You giggled, “I wouldn’t. I like you and books, that’s why I come here so often.”

He blushed whilst he motioned you to take a seat on the blanket. He sat down beside you, your knees brushing against one another’s. He was so close, you’d be shocked if he couldn’t hear your heart fighting to leap out of your chest.

You reached for the bottle of wine, popping the already loosened cork off completely and filling the glasses. You handed one to Jongho. “So,” you started, taking a sip, “how long have you been writing poetry?”

“About three years,” he responded, grabbing a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board and tossing it into his mouth. “I always had so many thoughts running through my mind, but was just afraid to turn them into poems.”

“How come?” You asked, concerned. You placed your hand on his thigh, causing red to rise to his cheeks once more.

“I was afraid someone would find them and think they were terrible,” he laughed, resting his hand on top of yours. “Silly, I know.”

You shook your head. “I get it. I’m the same way with my short stories. I’m surprised I even had the balls to share them with you,” you laughed.

Your simultaneous giggles soon rested into a comfortable silence where only the sound of your breathing could be heard.

“This is exactly what I meant by those words,” Jongho said after a few minutes of sweet stillness, “the silence with you is never uncomfortable.”

You looked into his eyes, keeping your focus intensely on them. “It’s about me?” You asked quietly. Your heart was about to explode.

He nodded. “Who else?”

“Dunno, maybe someone from your past?”

He laughed, “I haven’t been with anyone for five years. You’re the first person I’ve had feelings for since then.”

You hadn’t noticed how close the two of you had gotten, your lips only inches away from his. “It’s the same for me,” you responded, almost inaudibly.

Jongho inhaled, then released a shaky breath. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, lips now hovering over yours. The heat of his breath touched them.

“Please,” you whispered, leaning forward.

He pressed his lips against yours, the hand that was resting atop yours on his thigh moving to cup the back of your neck to keep you in place whilst the other moved towards your hips. “Is it alright if I touch you here?” He asked, breaking away from the kiss.

You nodded, then pulled him back in. Your tongues found their way into each other's mouths almost instantly, a small moan escaping from Jongho’s lips. “You can touch me anywhere you’d like, Jongho,” you said in a low voice, pulling away for a moment. You reached down to grab the hand that was on your hips, lifting it to move up your torso towards your breasts. “Is it okay if I do this?”

Jongho nodded, his eyes darkening as he watched you seductively guide his hand right where you wanted it. “You can touch me wherever you want, too,” he breathed, beginning to knead your clothed chest. You hummed, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. He groaned as you tugged at his strands, and he quickly dropped his hand from your chest to the hem of your t-shirt, quickly removing it from you. “No bra?” He smirked.

Your mood immediately switched, feeling a bit playful. “It’s not for you, I’ll tell you that.” You winked.

He hissed, pulling you onto his lap. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he said, before biting at your neck. He sucked on your collarbone, making his way across it left to right as he scattered marks all along it. “Y/N, can I make love to you tonight?”

“Please, Jongho,” you whimpered, eyes rolling back slightly at the touch of his lips on your skin. “I want you to fill me with your love.”

Jongho quickly and carefully pushed the food and drinks off of the blanket, then laid you down onto your back. His lips met your forehead, slowly kissing various parts of your face and body as he made his way down to the waistband of your jeans. He took them off quickly, then decided to pull your panties down by biting the straps. You moaned, watching him perform his little show.

He gasped at the sight of your dipping core, practically drooling at the glistening center. His lips met your clit, sucking lightly at the nub and licking between the folds. He tugged gingerly at your lips before plunging his tongue into your seeping hole.

“Fuck,” you inhaled, instantly arching your back at the contact. He moved one hand to your clit, the other to grip your hips to keep you steady. His thumb found your clit, the circles he was drawing synching perfectly with the pumping of his tongue. You jolted as he found your g-spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “Right there,” you moaned, tugging at his hair. Jongho whimpered as he felt your wetness grow, his movements becoming faster and sloppier as you were reaching your peak. “I’ll come for you, baby,” you mewled as you were sent over the edge. Jongho lapped up your juices to the very last drop, licking his lips insatiably as he lifted his head from your pussy.

“You taste heavenly, love,” he groaned. He shifted his body upwards so he was now completely hovering over you.

“Why aren’t you naked yet?” You joked, tugging at his shirt.

“Oh, shit,” he laughed, moving onto his knees so he could remove it, “I was so pussy drunk I forgot to undress.” He stuck out his tongue playfully as he removed the rest of his clothes. He repositioned himself over you, the tip of his cock touching your throbbing cunt. “How are you feeling? Can we keep going?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. He melted into it as you tasted him- and yourself. You hissed as he sank into you, bottoming you out quickly due to the amount of slick you’d produced. “Shit,” Jongho cried, slowly begining to pump in and out of you, “you’re so wet, baby.”

“Only for you, Jjongie,” you hummed, feeling the warmth of bliss begin to build up inside of you. Jongho buried his face into the nape of your neck. You moaned softly as fucked you with a steady and deep pace. “I want to feel all of you,” you begged, digging your nails into his back.

“God,” he breathed, his thrust becoming a bit faster, “you feel so good, baby. I could do this all night.”

Your moans began to grow louder as he pumped his cock faster, hitting every inch of your walls and sweet spot. You could feel yourself unravelling, your arousal growing by the minute, and so could he.

“Squirt on my cock, baby,” Jongho commanded, voice cracking from the immense pleasure, “I want to know how good I make you feel.”

You dug your nails further into him, throwing your legs up to wrap around his waist and allow him to sink deeper. “Come with me, Jongho,” you screamed, feeling every inch of your body begin to spasm as lightning bolts of pleasure rushed through your veins. “Fuck!”

Jongho growled, thrusting into you as deep as he could possibly go, keeping his pace not too fast nor too slow, just right. “S-shit,” he stuttered, feeling your liquids run down all sides of his cock. He completely lost it, painting your walls with white before he could even comprehend he had reached his peak. He began to slow down his thrusts, letting himself fall onto you, though he kept himself slightly propped so as to not place his weight entirely on you.

You massaged his head gently as he rested his head on your shoulder. You kissed his cheek. “That was lovely.”

“I’m glad,” he breathed, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “It was for me, too.”

“Maybe you should write a poem about this next.”

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