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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

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Moves & Countermoves (Part 9)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Warning: this chapter contains heavy subject matter and a steamy making out sess, proceed with caution.

“Effie and I wrote these speeches together.” Y/N assures Katniss and Peeta as Effie doles them out. “Don’t be nervous, nothing crazy.”

Katniss nods.

“Just a few words for the fallen tributes of the district. For eleven that is Thresh and Rue,” Effie says, hoping to put their minds at ease.

At present, they are crammed into one vehicle, transporting them to the justice building. Arista is sat between Katniss and Peeta, a doll in hand. Peeta allows the doll to walk along his leg, occasionally dropping it to one side or the other; causing the little girl to giggle. She shouldn’t be here.

People of the Capitol have sent them gifts from the moment they were born, things much too lavish for district twelve. Such items are sold to peacekeepers and the money funnels back through twelve. Keeping them afloat. Very few offerings they keep, like the doll. A tablet for Everest, just like his mother’s. He taps away at it, almost as if he’s playing a game.

“Can I see?” Katniss asks.

The boy nods, holding it across the isle. It’s an agenda…no, a journal. She realizes. ‘Day one, district eleven. Agriculture. The train is five hours from home.’

Katniss blinks rapidly at the screen before handing it back. He shouldn’t be here. “Thought you were playing a game.”

“I have games.” Everest tells her, “you can pick one to play.”

“Show me your favorite.” Don’t worry about all of this. You’re just a kid.

He smiles. “I like this one. You have to dodge the logs and get the dot from one side to the other.”

“I won’t be very good.” Katniss confesses as he hands it back to her.

“It’s for fun, Katniss.” The boy shrugs, “you don’t have to be good.”

Y/N passes an affectionate hand over her son’s hair.

“When I married Haymitch, there was an understanding. Whatever we had to do to stay alive, we would do. But between him and I was also an understanding; that he loved me and that love is unconditional. He wouldn’t leave me if I was scared, he would be patient. He would wait for me. When there were time restrictions, if we couldn’t wait, he would get me through. I think Peeta could be that person for you, Katniss.”

“You think I should marry Peeta?”

“I think you should be his friend.” Y/N corrects her. “All of this pretending to be in love stuff will come easier, I promise. Do it on your terms, take your time.” While you still have time.

Katniss takes this into consideration. She doesn’t dislike the idea of being with Peeta. But the idea of being with anyone seems impossible to her now. Even out of the arena she no longer feels safe…maybe if they make it back home. After they’ve convinced Snow and the districts. Even then, she doesn’t think she can love anyone the way Y/N loves Haymitch; or be loved the way Haymitch loves her.

What Y/N doesn’t tell her is that their toasting, the one Haymitch asked for when she was ready, did not come until two years after their Capitol wedding. After they’d celebrated two ‘anniversaries’ and Everest’s first birthday. She doesn’t tell her how verbalizing ‘I love you’ is painful for Haymitch… how he cried after telling her for the first time. Because he lost every other person he’s ever loved. How his tears broke her heart, how much they still do.

The vehicle comes to a harsh stop before the engine cuts out.

“Crash landing,” Haymitch remarks.

They are ushered out in a single file line. Y/N, Haymitch and the children are left in the viewing room with Effie and Cinna to watch Katniss and Peeta on stage from the projector.

Nothing can go wrong. Katniss repeats the mantra over and over. Nothing can go wrong.

Peeta does most of the talking, he offered and she couldn’t say no.

Arista pays little attention to what’s happening, too preoccupied with chatting up one of the peacekeepers who is trying to keep a hard exterior.

Everest is slightly more involved, watching the adults around him; gauging their reactions. His mother is anxious, twisting her fingers around the fabric at the back of his father’s jacket.

Cinna catches him staring and smiles. “Can you see?”

Everest nods as all eyes fall on him.

Y/N whispers something to her husband that the little boy can’t make out. Haymitch reaches a hand back then, bringing his son up beside Effie.

The peacekeeper sends Arista back to her parents with a gift. “I got candy.”

“What kind of candy?” Y/N leans down.

“From him,” the girl tells her mother, pointing toward the man in the white suit.

“Did you thank him?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” Y/N boops her little nose. “This is actually one of my favorites, do you think we could trade?”

“Well, what do you have?” Arista arches a brow.

Y/N surrenders her shoulder bag. “Anything you want.”

Arista’s eyes light up, “really?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you, Mommy. Here’s your candy.”

“Thank you.” Y/N accepts the tiny wrapped object. Sliding it into her pocket.

“Both Rue and Thresh were so young. But our lives are not measured in minutes, they’re measured by the lives of those we touch around us. For myself, and for Katniss; we know that without Thresh and without Rue we wouldn’t be standing here today.” Peeta speaks from his heart.

Though their speeches were approved by both mentors and their Capitol escort, they do not have the intended effect. A whistle is heard, three fingers in the air, the nearest peacekeepers drawing batons.

“Get the kids away from the door.” Haymitch bites out.

“What about Katniss and Peeta?” They’re still out there.

“I’ve got them,” he promises.

The audience grows to a distraught holler.

“What’s happening?” Everest turns to his mother.

“Come with me,” Y/N tries to keep calm as she takes his hand, moving quickly towards her daughter. Her bag all but forgotten.

“Mommy, why are they doing that?” Arista asks, seeing the older man being forced up onto the stage by peacekeepers.

“Shh,” Y/N turns her away. Hurrying both children up the stairs.

Hearing Katniss protest from the lower level, “no, please leave him alone.” The doors open and she is removed from the stage.

Y/N sits her babies down on the floor, “cover your ears.” They do as they’re told, looking to their mother for comfort. She kneels, keeping them distracted as best she can; from the screams, from the gun shot, from the cruel world whirling around them.

Haymitch carries Katniss, kicking and screaming, toward the stairs. “What did I do?”

“Shhh,” he hushes her as Peeta follows.

“No, Haymitch! What did I do wrong?”

“Shut up. Get in here.” He closes the door behind them.

“I did everything I was supposed to do.” Katniss says, tears flooding her face.

“Katniss,” Peeta runs his knuckles along her arm; hoping to soothe her.

She steals Peeta’s hand, latching on for comfort. “Just help us get through this trip.”

“This trip?” Haymitch snaps two fingers in front of her, “wake up, girl. This trip doesn’t end when you get home. You never get off this train.”

Katniss’ heart sinks at the realization. They’re still stuck on this train.

“You two are mentors now, which means every year they’re gonna drag you out and broadcast the details of your romance. Your personal life becomes theirs. From now on, your job is to be a distraction so that people forget what the real problems are.”

Peeta’s free hand balls into a fist at his side. “So what do we do?”

“You’re gonna smile, continue reading the cards that Effie gives you and you’re gonna live happily ever after. Think you can do that?” His eyes flicker between the pair.

Peeta nods. Katniss follows reluctantly, after Haymitch pats her cheek. Just like he did before she stepped onto the hovercraft for the games.

“Good,” Haymitch says, with a sad smile. “Come here.”

Still in a state of shock, Katniss steps into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder. She watches through the window as the man from eleven’s lifeless body is removed.

“You’re gonna be ok, I promise.”

Katniss knows that her mentors will protect her…and Peeta. Anything she does is a collective loss or gain. Anything she does.

————————————————————————

Y/N manages to get through dinner on the train, choking down her meal after consoling Katniss, who refuses to leave her room. Peeta stays with her, opting for in room dining tonight.

Effie isn’t thrilled, but she understands and the younger children keep her plenty entertained.

Y/N and Haymitch break off before it gets late, tucking Everest and Arista into bed. Then Haymitch wanders down to the bar car, returning with a bottle. Seeing mayhem on the monitors of the control room as he passes.

“How the hell are we gonna fix this, Haymitch?” Y/N demands, the second he returns.

He uncorks the liquor, chugging a bit to get through this round of questioning. “There are ten other districts before the Capitol, they still have a chance to calm things down.”

She nods, swiping at traitorous tears. “How bad is it?”

Riots in the streets. “If all else fails, we have the show with Caesar before Snow’s party.” Setting the bottle aside, he pulls her in, “we’ll fix it.”

Y/N melts into him.

Haymitch tips her chin up. She is beautiful…and broken. Glossy eyes soften at the sight of him, lips parted and flushed from tears. “I love you.” The words claw their way from his throat; more painful to keep in than let out.

She kisses him then. Hot and hard, a little sloppy.

Haymitch cups the base of her neck, surrendering to the unrelenting force that is Y/N. The push and pull of her, the need for her.

Falling onto the mattress, lost in the heat of it. Something drops from Y/N’s dress as it’s discarded. The candy.

“You saving this for later?” Haymitch chuckles, holding it between them.

“Traded Arista for it.” Y/N admits, tossing the candy aside. “She got it off a peacekeeper. I’m sure it’s fine but…”

“Can’t risk it,” Haymitch agrees.

“Didn’t want to make a scene either, Everest is watching like a hawk.” She rolls off of him, onto her back.

“These kids,” Haymitch sighs. A gentle hand finds her bump, tracing patterns over the skin there.

————————————————————————

“We want to share with you the sorrows of your losses.” Katniss reads directly from the cards. In districts nine and ten, the crowd was calm. Now in district eight, two members of the crowd raise three fingers into the air. “The tributes of this district-” she breaks off as peacekeepers remove them from the scene; looking to Haymitch and Y/N.

They are no longer left in the viewing room, able to jump in and corral their victors if need be. Showing face to the masses to help calm them. Katniss wonders what kind of deals they had to make to be standing here with them.

Haymitch nods, encouraging her to continue. Y/N follows suit when Peeta’s eyes fall to her, jaw clenched. This is what we have to do. This is what they make us do.

Katniss picks up where she left off. “Were brave and noble warriors, who brought honor to their families and pride to their people. We are all of us united, both victors and vanquished, in serving a common purpose. The power and glory of the Capitol. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.”

People from districts three through seven are outraged with this speech, this falsehood, this injustice to the girl they saw in the arena. The Capitol won’t eat your soul, that is a fate much too kind for a victor. They break your connections, they make you theirs.

Districts one and two are more easily swayed, buying into the notion that the games are something to celebrate. The little girl who presents Katniss with flowers tells her that she wants to volunteer; just like she did.

The nightmares come and Peeta stays with Katniss most nights, helping each other survive.

Everest and Arista find ways to occupy themselves. Madge steps in when their parents have to tend the crushing weight of their titles. Tomorrow ends in the Capitol; Caesar and Snow, all in one night.

Y/N sits, legs crossed, beside Haymitch on the gray satin bench of the train car. Katniss and Peeta directly across from them.

“Snow is watching us.” Haymitch says, as if anyone could forget. “If he wants you to pacify the districts, I promise you, he’s not happy. Instead of being in love, you two sound like you’re reciting from a drilling manual.”

“I’m open to suggestions.” Peeta turns his palms up, they’re all grasping at straws now.

Y/N leans forward, “I think-”

“We could get married.” Katniss meets her gaze when she says it.

“That’s not helping,” Haymitch taps a finger against his glass.

Peeta’s eyes never leave Katniss. Of all the times he’s thought about it, wanted it even; someday in the future, when it was real. Not like this, never like this.

“I’m serious.” Katniss decides, “if we’re on this train forever it’s gonna happen eventually, why not now?”

“It does make a statement,” Haymitch huffs a laugh, “I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, sure.” Peeta rises to his feet, “let’s do it.”

“Wait.” Y/N reaches out a hand to catch him, “we still have the show. We can find another way, something else to feed these people and keep them at bay for a while.”

“Like what?” Peeta plops back down in his seat.

“Like a baby.” Y/N forces the poofy skirt of her dress to lie flat against her bump.

“No, if you’re giving them that, we’re giving them the proposal.” Peeta protests. Y/N and Haymitch have already given away too much.

Katniss nods in agreement.

“Alright then,” Haymitch drinks to that, “let’s give them a night they’ll never forget.”

Part 10

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69

#haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy x reader #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #moves & countermoves

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thatone-brightstar · 1 year

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The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 6: The Fantastic Mrs. Fox pt. 2

Words: 5 k

Summary: Your two families meet and Carmy sees a different side of you.

a/n:Thank you all so much for the support and sweet messages! Also, new trailer just dropped and know that I'll need 2-3 business days to recover because ohmygodddd . Enjoy! xx

PS. Reader is Latina in this but I don’t specify from where so you can just fill in the blanks (it’s also why it’s all over the place lol)

PS2. The movie I’m referring to is The Fantastic Mr. Fox by Wes Anderson and it’s an absolute gem, you gotta watch it!!

WARNINGS: Smut ahead, oral sex (female receiving), p in v, dirty talk, reader is on birth control but isn't mentioned (wrap it up IRL tho), minors DNI but you'll do what you want so don't say I didn't warn you

“Can you please be careful with that, Jesus!” Carmy shouted from the wheel of Richie’s car, looking through the rearview mirror at the backseat where his three workers sat smushed together, one carefully balancing the delicate pastry.

“Why does Richie get the front seat?” Fak questioned with half his thigh against the right door.

“Cause it’s my car, now shut the hell up before I kick your ass out!” He fought back.

Sweeps began to argue on why Richie couldn’t carry the cake if he was sitting shotgun and how that was stupid because it was, again, ’my car and I can do what I want!’

“Is it still far? I think some of the gelée is starting to leak…” Marcus asked from the middle seat, moving his leg further out to not stain his pants with the syrupy liquid.

“Nah, like two more blocks.” Carmy answered.

Soon enough, he found a parking space as close as he could to your building, then killed the engine. He climbed out first to help Marcus with the heavy box, which was in fact leaking slightly from one of the corners and he placed it on the roof of the car. He almost unconsciously wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, but immediately stopped when he remembered he swapped his usual dark jeans for a pair of clean deep blue ones. He had also added a beige short sleeve button up over the usual white T that covered him and a few rings to his fingers, hoping he was decent enough for the occasion.

They could hear the buzz of rhythmic music and voices as they moved closer to the side of the building where he saw an opening in the fence. He gave the cake to Fak and pulled out his phone to double check your message to make sure they weren’t crashing a random person’s party, but before he could unlock it, he felt Richie elbow him continuously on his side. He looked up to him in annoyance, then he saw who his cousin was gawking at and the air in his lungs left in a shaky exhale.

Ravishing was the only word he felt could do you justice. Stunning, captivating and beautifully breathtaking were up on the list, but none seemed to be enough to describe how the slick red fabric accentuated every one of his favorite features on you. Your olive skin glowed under the afternoon sunlight as you walked towards them, dark curls held up with a soft ribbon that bounced with each of your steps. The frills on the hemline of your dress caressed your mid thigh as you moved, making him envious of a piece of cloth for the first time in his life.

“Carmy, you lucky son of a bitch.” Richie whispered beside him, but he was more concerned on how he would keep his hands to himself during the whole evening when you looked like that.

“You guys made it!” You said excitedly once you reached them by the entrance.

You pulled each one into a quick hug, offering a welcome kiss on the cheek. You hugged Carmy for unperceivably longer than the rest, your citrus perfume invading his nostrils and engraving itself in his memories.

“What’s in the box?” You asked Marcus with a confused grin.

“Well you always bring stuff for us so we wanted to pay the favor back” He said with a wide smile. “I made it and Carmy helped decorate it.” He shrugged.

Your eyes danced between both men in admiration, the tears glossing them over and a big smile taking up half your face.

“You guys are the best.” You whispered and threw your arms around them again.

“Ugh- sorry I'm a bit tipsy-” You said to yourself once you let them go and chuckled, fanning your hands in front of your face to dry the upcoming tears. “I can take that to the table so you guys can enjoy yourselves… where’re the others?”

“Oh they took an uber behind us, they should be here in a bit.” Carmen answered, still dumbfounded like a moth to a bright light.

“Awesome, well the drinks are on the right and the food’s on the left so… enjoy!” You said taking the heavy box from Marcus, who clapped Sweeps on the back as they moved towards the drinks.

You rolled your tinted lip between your teeth staring up at Carmy for a second, before saying “Can you give me a hand… with this?”

“Wha- Oh, yeah, yeah sure.” He took it from your hands and followed you towards the food table, hearing a ‘Guess you're stuck with me’ from Richie to Fak as he walked away.

He followed mindlessly behind you, too enticed by how the dress accentuated the curve of your hips. You could have been leading him to his death and he would gladly follow with anticipation. He could feel himself grow slightly hard at the racing images flying through his head and he was glad that the shirt he decided to wear was long enough to cover his groin.

He reached the table after you, placing the package in a small space you had cleared in the center, then undid the latches at the top and took a butter knife to cut the cardboard down the side. A small gasp escaped your lips and you grasped his forearm at the sight of the gleaming pastry.

“Carm, it’s beautiful”

“You think so?”

“Of course.. It kinda reminds me of the-”

He pulled up the picture saved on his phone and your eyebrows knitted together at the sight of the bright image.

“I kinda ripped off your design.” He confessed through a breathy laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“I think you made it better” You responded, then you hand slid from his arm to cup under his palm. “Thank you, it truly means a lot.”

Carmy swallowed dryly when your eyes flicked down to his lips momentarily and for a brief second he wanted to see what would happen if he leaned down and kissed you in front of all these people… but a voice shouting your name from behind made you lose grasp on his hand and step away instantly.

“Carmen, you came!” Your mother called excitedly, walking towards you by the arm of a tall older gentleman who he assumed was your grandfather.

“Hola, señora” He spoke carefully. He had been practicing some words with the teasing help of Syd, but unfortunately, that had been as far as the lessons had gone.

“Ay, muy bien!” She cheered and his ears reached a new shade of red. “Have you met my father yet?”

“No uh, w-we just got here.”

Carmy reached his hand out to the man, who swept his appearance then reached out slowly to clasp his hand with a firm grip. Your mother turned to her father and explained something in a quick spanish that was impossible for him to understand. What he did understand was the universal language of an embarrassed child, as your eyes grew wide and you let out a sharp ‘Mama!’ through gritted teeth.

“What?” He asked you amused.

“She told him you’re his next grandson-in-law” And when he looked down at you, a soft blush dusted your cheeks and your hand rubbed at the bottom of your nose to hide the shy smile.

“My Fox?” He heard the deep voice come from your grandfather and was more confused about the nickname than your mother’s statement.

“D’you want some Sangria?” You interrupted.

He nodded with a nice smile and you walked off to the drinks table with your mother behind you. He was about to follow behind, but the man beside him placed a gentle hand over his shoulder to stop him.

“Carmy, yes?” He spoke with a slight crack in his pronunciation.

Carmy gulped and nodded.

“What is it that you do, Carmy?”

“I, uhm.. I own a restaurant.” ‘More like a burning shithole’ the voice in his head added.

The older man hummed in contemplation. “You know hard work, then?”

Carmy let out a nervous laugh then answered “Yeah, I-I do.” That would be an understatement.

“Good, good.” He patted Carmy’s back, the intimidating facade slipping when he turned to look at you laughing beside Syd and Marcus while you served two drinks. “She's been through a lot this year y'know... and I want only the best for my little Fox.” He turned back to him “Are you the best?”

Carmy’s eyes stayed glued on your figure, his heart warming at how you swayed naturally with the upbeat music, reminding him of vibrant hibiscus flowers in the breeze. “I want to be… yeah.” He confessed wholeheartedly.

A smile that reached your grandad’s eyes appeared before him, leaning to his side and whispering. “Good answer.”

“Can I ask you something?” He asked the man after a few silence filled seconds and took the small grunt as a sign to continue. “Why do you call her that? Fox?”

He heard the man’s booming laughter above the music before he began to speak.

“Do you know that fox movie? Where he steals all the chickens and lives in a tree?” Carmy shook his head. “She does, seen it a hundred times or more. When she was little, she walked around wearing fox ears her grandma made her and would chase the chickens around in my other daughter’s house. So she’s been my little fox since.”

A grin appeared slightly at the picture of a little you running around with cloth fox ears pinned to your hair. He wanted to ask about your grandmother, but before he had the chance, a woman in a tight blue dress tackled her arms around the older man. He only understood her excitement and giggles, then she signaled to someone across the area and the man moved with open arms to new arriving guests.

“Hi” She turned to him, stretching a well manicured hand towards him. “I’m Sarah.”

“Uh… Carmy.” He gave her hand a single shake, a little taken back by the light scratch of her nails on his skin.

“Oh yeah, my aunt told me about you.” She batted her long lashes at him and he readjusted his weight on his legs under her heavy gaze. “You’re the chef that works with my little cousin, no?”

Carmy nodded and swallowed nervously, assuming this was the cousin your mother wanted to set him up with.

“Cooking is such a hard job, with all the heavy lifting you do, I’m sure you don’t even need to work out.” She gave him a breathy laugh and he tried to hide his lack of comfort under a chuckle, his eyes scanning the space for you or any other person that he knew could pull him out of the situation.

“Maybe you can come over one day and cook for m-”

“Babe, d’you think you can help me with something?”

The sound of your voice hit him the way soft ocean breeze hits the rocks after a crashing wave and he unconsciously stepped further away from your cousin.

“Babe?” They both asked in surprise.

He raised his brows at the pet name, a slow fluttering sensation filling his insides because you had never called him anything other than by a variation of his name, or chef, in your whole time of knowing each other, yet now that it slipped past your cherry tinted lips, he could not ignore the shaking sensation the two syllable word had unearthed in him.

Your brows raised, expecting an answer from his parted lips. All he could do was nod slowly and take a few steps in your direction. You smiled softly up at him then turned to your cousin.

“Your mom’s looking for you. I think your kid knocked his tooth out again.”

Then you turned towards the door that led to the stairway with him following right behind.

You didn’t say a word as you made your way up the multiple floors and his hands developed a thin layer of sweat at the idea that maybe he had done something wrong. He was about to ask what it was you needed help with when you reached the door, but the moment he stepped into the dim hallway, your hands grabbed the two sides of his shirt and pulled him down to your awaiting lips. It caught him off guard, but the breathy sigh that left your chest had him pressing himself closer to you. Carmy groaned into the kiss, the floral taste of red wine exploting his senses. His hands instinctively reached up to cup the sides of your face to deepen the action, tongue lapping at yours trying to get more of the intoxicating flavor. He felt your fingers circle around the loops of his jeans and pull him forward as you took small steps back down the hallway.

“You have no idea… how much I’ve wanted to do that.. today.” You managed to say between peppered kisses while pulling him deeper into the room.

One of his hands moved to the dip between your back and ass while the other extended long digits under your chin. In a second of bravery, he wrapped it tentatively, applying light pressure to the sides and causing a hefty gasp to rip from your chest. His smile unraveled at the melodious sound, dick now pressing hard against the material of his jeans.

“Just that?” He asked in a whisper then left your mouth to plant wet kisses along the edge of your lips and down to the valley of your jaw. He could feel your pulse quicken at his actions and your grip grow tighter on his jeans.

He felt the hand on your lower back hit the hard edge of the kitchen counter and he pressed himself flush against you. You shook your head at his question, attention trained at his lowering head now reaching your chest. Sultry kisses rose small bumps on the tender skin of your upper breast as your hand flew up to tangle in between golden strands. You pushed your head back to allow him an open access.

“More than that..” You whispered through difficult breaths.

“Yeah?” He asked, withdrawing from your skin and rising back up to your face. His nose rubbed along yours as his hands fell from their grip, down past your waist and to your hips. Fingers clawed at the fabric of your dress and bunched it up into high fists.

A low shiver left your lips at the contact of his hot skin against your thighs, fingernails raking along the sensitive area. Your hands rested on his shoulders, gripping tightly when skilled thumbs feathered over the thin hem of your underwear.

You hummed in affirmation, eyes wide and bright staring hungirly up at him through hooded lids. Your lips twitched up and you bit it slightly before speaking.

“Y’know…” you whispered to Carmy, lips brushing over his with every word. “I chose the dress knowing how much you’d wanna fuck me in it.”

The breath he had struggled to take was forcefully knocked out by your admission. A groan moved past his lungs, because fuck were you right. He felt like a mad man, unable to control himself from the moment your skin touched his.

Without thought, he dropped to his knees, face buried in the material of your dress.

“Fuck, Carm-” Escaped your lips in heavy breaths.

He looked up to find you a beautiful mess of shaky breaths and blushed cheeks. The golden necklace around your neck was disarranged and your exposed skin glistened from his wet kisses. He smiled at your glowing physique.

Carmy never considered himself religious. He grew up catholic from his parents but never bought into the whole idea of an ever present being creating everything around him. In that moment, however, with the glowing rays of sunshine filtering through the windows and cascading over your form- red fabric bunched at your hips like an impending fire- he undoubtedly confirmed the existence of the godly being he wanted to spend all his mortal life worshiping. You had him like silly putty in your lovely little hands and he was too far gone in the moment to rationalize if he was fucked for good or not.

He hooked his index fingers on the band of your underwear and pulled it down torturously slow, following the drag of the fabric with his teeth. He didn’t want to waste the little time you had, considering you were also in the middle of your kitchen and anyone could walk in at any moment. But god did he want to slurp you up and bottle every last one of your desperate sighs, make you feel so good until the only word you remembered how to pronounce was his name.

When the flimsy piece of clothing was finally down to your ankles and you had stepped out of it, his palms pushed the fabric up once more and he was greeted by the wonderful image of your glistening pussy. He swallowed down the sudden rush of saliva that invaded his mouth, a usual reaction from his body when he’s been starving for so long and is graciously presented with an appetizing dish.

He breathed out delicately above it, a clear pearl of slick forming on your folds, taunting him. He looked up at your aroused expression through hooded brows and without losing contact, stuck out his index finger and swiped it over the tender flesh to collect the juices, then popped it in his mouth. The tangy taste of you on his tongue was all he needed to lose the last grips of control left in him.

Carmy gripped firmly at your hips then pushed his face deep into your folds, tongue first. The force and the surprise of his actions had you losing your balance over him and holding on to his shoulder for support, mouth ajar. He used one hand over your stomach to keep you and the dress still against the counter, while the other held on to the supple bend behind your knee, raising it to rest on his ample shoulder and granting him greater access to you.

A mixture between a moan and a whimper invaded his ears, fueling the blaze of his actions and speeding up his attack on your cunt. He used his index and ring fingers to part at your labia, lapping with his flat tongue around the whole area. With blown eyes he looked up at your disheveled face, head thrown back as you tried to control your erratic breathing and he smiled to himself at how responsive you were to his touch.

He had learnt this like he had everything else, through technique, observation and a shit ton of practice. Everyone around him always assumed that just because he had never had a girlfriend before, that meant he had never had sex either. But they’d be surprised at what having your face and name linked to the top twenty best chefs in the country could do for your sex life in a supercilious city like New York. This was probably one of the few good things that he gotten out of it. Seeing you tremble through his actions over his mental stability seemed like a fair trade.

As he saw you fall into a breathless mess above him, a proudness flourished inside him. To know that it was he who turned you into a heap of mumbles and praises with just his skilled mouth.

“Shi-t, babe- so good. So so good…” You were too far gone to be able to say anything else.

He used his fingers to spread you open again and a high pitched cry vibrated in your throat when he wrapped his lips to suck on your clit. You pushed on his shoulder at the intense sensation and he let it go with a ‘pop’ of his mouth, kissing the velvet skin on your thigh and giving you some time to breathe. He took a few seconds to calm his racing heart and his cock jerking inside his jeans.

“As much..” You could barely speak between breaths “as I want you to make me come with your mouth- and I do-" your leg unhooked from his shoulder and you pulled him up by the collar of his shirt. “I really want you to fuck me right now.”

You didn’t give him time for an answer, only sealing your lips above his and groaning when you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your hands flew to the buttons on his jeans, undoing them with practiced ease, but before you could pull his stiff member from its confinement, Carmy grabbed at your hips and turned you towards the counter. On the wall across from the counter, by the door to your room, rested a tall mirror, long enough where you both could see your heaving upper bodies.

His hand slid to the front to massage at your aching clit, chest pressed tightly to your back.

“God, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, look at you.” He used his free hand to wrap around your neck and tilt your head to the mirror. “My pretty, pretty girl.” He whispered near your ear.

He had no idea what came over him when it came to having sex with you. The way your body responded to his touch caressed a part of his ego he thought dormant so long ago. Yet her you were, all doe eyes and shaky moans, ready for him to fuck you in your kitchen with your family only a few floors down. He really was a lucky son of a bitch.

Carmy used his slick covered hand to wrap around his cock, then gave a few taunting jerks on himself before aligning with your entrance; all while maintaining eye contact with you through your reflection. You gave him a little nod in the mirror, your hand covering over his inked one around your throat, then he pushed slowly into you until he felt your warmth swallow him completely.

Your hands fell flat on the cold counter, the metal clink of your rings hitting the surface as you tried to scratch at something to hold on to. He kept his grasp on your neck steady and his eyes fixed on yours as he quickened his snaps on your hips. He could see your tits bounce in the mirror at his brutal force and it only made him want to go faster.

“I’m not gonna-fuck baby- not gonna last l-longer” You uttered in gasps.

Your back arched towards him when he hit that particular spot he had learned you liked, then he did it again and again until the strength from your legs disappeared completely, folding you over the counter. The fluttering around his cock signaled to him you were almost close and with the way his movements stuttered lightly, he could feel it too.

He closed his hand around your neck again and pulled you to him. A mess of curls and reddened cheeks stared back at him, a pleased smile tattooed across your face.

He whispered filthy praises into your ear. “Look how good you look taking my cock.” He accentuated the words with a deep thrust. “You like lookin’ at yourself while I fuck you?”

You nodded frantically, pulling one of your hands up to grab at the back of his head.

“I like looking at you fuck me.” You answered back in shrill breaths. Your puffs blew on the sweat covered strands around your face, some clinging to the surface of your hot cheeks.

Your answer had him chuckling in delight and he picked up the pace one last time, heavy thrusts creating ripples on the tender skin of your ass cheeks. He circled his free arm around your waist and rubbed on your bundle of nerves until he felt you shiver with an upcoming orgasm, then he skillfully rolled the nub between his fingers and that was enough to have you break under him with a strong moan. Your cunt clung with breathtaking strength around his twitching cock, allowing him three more thrusts before he found his own release inside you.

He took several large puffs above you, the lavender shampoo from your hair calming the erratic beats of his heart. Carmy pulled out slowly out of you and you let out a sensitive whine. He looked down at your tinted skin, attention fully on the drops of creamy white beginning to slip out of you with every involuntary spasm and it surprised him to feel the need to be inside you again.

He kissed your naked shoulder and smiled towards your reflection, the disarrangement of dark curls framing pink cheeks and kiss swollen lips had him clutching at his heart. You could have been there for an eternity, both afraid to break the bubble you had so cautiously created around you, but knowing you had to.

“Is that what you needed help with?” He asked with a grin, reaching for a paper towel and running it under warm water before helping you clean up the mess he had gladly partaken in between your legs. "You coulda just asked..."

A relaxed laugh escaped your lips as you retied the ribbon in your hair and asked him to pass your discarded underwear, then brushed your hands around the ruffles of your dress to make it less wrinkled.

“Honestly I just wanted to get you away from my cousin.” You confessed, then walked towards him and combed your fingers through his hair while he readjusted his jeans.

“Guess I should make you jealous more often then, huh?” He asked and you stopped rubbing the lipstick off his cheek, giving him a glare. “I’m just joking!” Then he pulled you in for a tender kiss.

“C’mon, they’re probably looking for us.”

“Let ‘em look, I don’t fuckin’ care right now.” He whispered back, catching your lips into another sweet long kiss.

“No, seriously. We gotta go.” You managed to say in between kisses and laughs. He planted his lips by your ear and inhaled your perfume.

You smiled, then intertwined your fingers with his and began your hefty walk back down stairs, a mild ache in his abdomen that would keep your escapade present in his mind.

“What the hell?” You faintly said.

A sudden rush of trumpets and string instruments reached your ears the moment you crossed the heavy metal door back into the courtyard. He could see all the guests crowded in a semi circle around a group of men belting out the lyrics to an unfamiliar but attractive song. Your hand held tighter around his and you turned to him with a confused grin.

“Was this you?” You asked above the overpowering music.

He shook his head ‘no’ and turned back to the Mariachi band, only to see Richie walking to them with extended arms, like an orchestra director but with a beer in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

“Whatup fuckos! You missed the whole surprise!” He yelled through the noise.

“This was you?!”

He shrugged, taking a sip from his beer and turning towards the band.

“I felt kinda bad that you quit cause of me, so hope this makes up for it.”

Your hand released Carmy’s as you walked a couple of steps towards his cousin, circling as much as you could around his waist with your arms. Richie stayed frozen in his spot with his gaze down on you, then he looked up to Carmy who just stayed with raised brows. He moved his slender arms around you to hug you back, chin resting down on your head.

He cleared his throat after a few seconds and let you go.

“Okay, enough of that mushy shit.” Richie took another swig.

Someone called your name from the crowd and you turned to Carmy promising you’d be back in a bit, then ran to Syd, who took your hand and spun you around to the beat of the music.

Richie strutted to his cousin’s side and offered him the burning cig.

“That was nice of you. The Mariachi.” He clarified while taking a drag.

“Was nothin’.” He shrugged again. “The fucker owed me a favor.”

Carmy nodded slowly. Riche’s eyes flickered towards him then raised the bottle to his lips.

“She’s..uh… She’s good for you. Try not to fuck it up.” He stated simply, then added “Also you both reek of sex.” and this pulled a soft laugh from Carmy.

They both watched the crowd move rhythmically in silence for a long while, maybe three or more songs, until the musicians stopped and an uproar of clapping and cheers began.

People dispersed into their seats around the long table and you waved Richie and Carmy over to the empty seats around you and the other guys.

As the sun hid behind the skyline and the lights under the trees casted a soft yellow glow around everything, he allowed himself to enjoy the moment away from his looming responsibilities. He ate everything you or your aunts offered him to taste, to the point where both his stomach and his heart felt like they could burst. He then downed it with glasses of Sangria and the constant beers Richie threw at him so he could show off his skill at opening them with a lighter, the only party trick he knew.

At some point, his arm rested on the back of your chair and you leaned your back to rest on his chest, head nestled in the crook of his neck as your grandfather entertained their end of table with the romantic story on how he had met your passed grandmother. It was a beautiful story of ‘the old homeland’ as he called it and as he skimmed the back of his fingers on your smooth arm, Carmy listened attentively. He felt brave enough to let his guard down and plant a single kiss on the crown of your head, but didn’t notice the lingering stares and multiple hidden smiles from both families surrounding you.

Your grandfather’s words swam peacefully in the light haze of his mind, both from the alcohol and the warmth radiating from your palm mindlessly tracing figures on his thigh.

‘Her father pointed a rifle at my head when I asked for her hand. I was not afraid because I knew she would say yes. And if she didn’t? Why would I ever want to live in a world without her by my side?’

Chapter 7.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne and that’s it lmao

#carmen berzatto x reader #the bear & the fox #carmy berzatto #carmy smut #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fx #the bear tv #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 5 months

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BY ISHA BANERJEE AND APURVA CHAKRAVARTHY

#EndJewHatred hosted a protest in support of Business School assistant professor Shai Davidai on Wednesday, calling on University President Minouche Shafik to resign for allegedly not doing enough to protect Jewish students.

The protest came hours after Shafik testified before the House Committee on Education and the Workforce in a hearing titled “Columbia in Crisis: Columbia University’s Response to Antisemitism.”

The protesters gathered at 5:30 p.m. at 116th Street and Broadway with Davidai and members of #EndJewHatred, a movement “centering on Jewish liberation from all forms of oppression and discrimination.” The protest drew over 200 Columbia and non-Columbia affiliates.

Davidai decided to host the protest with #EndJewHatred after it “became clear to us that the University is not going to allow us to organize a protest for the community,” he said in a speech at the protest.

He called for Shafik to “do the decent thing and step down” after repeatedly saying that Shafik had lied in her congressional testimony. He also stated that he would work with whomever came after Shafik to “make sure that the Jewish community, the Israeli community, and the non-Jewish community that believes that Hamas is bad will be safe.”

Gabi Schiller, one of the speakers at the protest, also condemned Shafik’s testimony, saying that she threw Davidai “under the bus.”

“Now we finally see the tip of the iceberg of this institutional rot of antisemitism thanks to these congressional hearings which Columbia President Shafik showed with absolute clarity that she is a moral failure to this institution,” Schiller said. “President Shafik, we will not allow Shai Davidai to be your sacrificial lamb.”

Photo by Judy Goldstein / Senior Staff Photographer

Protesters hold signs that read #EndJewHatred.

In regard to a recent petition to fire Davidai, which has garnered almost 9,000 signatures as of Thursday night, as well as other complaints posted on social media and sent to Columbia, Davidai said that he is not concerned for himself but rather for the Jewish and Israeli community. He emphasized that the protest was not about him but instead in support of the “Jewish fight” and “the decent American fight against terrorism.”

“Columbia thinks that it can take these complete lies, turn them into investigation, and silence me or fire me and then I go away. Like no, I don’t go away,” Davidai said. “You can fire me, but you can’t silence me.”

Davidai outlined the outcomes he hoped would result from the protest, implying the first to be the resignation of Shafik. He said he wants the Columbia chapters of Students for Justice in Palestine and Jewish Voice for Peace to be expelled and removed from campus. Davidai also stated that “all these indoctrinators,” referring to certain professors and faculty advisors, needed to be “sanctioned.”

Davidai ended his list of demands by saying that every organization that has signed on to Columbia University Apartheid Divest should have 24 hours to denounce CUAD, and if they do not, they should be disbanded and removed from campus.

#shai davidai #columbia university #endjewhatred #end jew hatred #marina shafir

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galaxynajma · 5 months

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To be honest. I’m feeling a little conflicted about season 2 being announced to come out in October

That’s only 5 months away

I’m both worried for the animation quality and animators

From what I’ve heard about episode Nagi ( the film) it had better animation than the series but it still wasn’t really movie level

The U20 arc is very special to a lot of bllk fans . It’s pretty high up there on being the fandom’s favorite arc

There’s so many iconic moments during it . And i thought they can be Brought to justice

Good things is that I highly doubt that this season will have 24 episodes

I just don’t think they’ll add the first part of the NEL in this . I think it will end on chapter 152

Sorry Kaiser and Ness fans

Well actually…

Anyways I hope the animators are doing well and I’ll be happy with this season no matter what

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO ISAGI’S GOAL SOME JUSTICE IM BEGGING YOU

This panel of Sae too .. let’s be real here this is the best Sae panel of all time

Well at least we’ll get Ryusae moments finally animated… stsg fans … be prepared

#blue lock #bllk #bluelock #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #sae itoshi #itoshi sae

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yevmarie · 7 months

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Light My Fire | Chapter 6

Masterlist

< Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 >

Plot: having lost everything you are drowned in depression, which had happened to you a year ago. Now you need to struggle with the apocalypse as well with no sparkle in your heart. But there is one man who can light your fire to live.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Pronouns: you, she/her

Warnings (the chapter is a whole red flag, I'm sorry): angst, just a bit of angry and fluffy Daryl, swearing, smoking (by reader), physical abuse towards the reader (but the abuser is punished), the reader finally goes nuts (and there's no wonder here), differences from the main plot may occur, bad English (not my first language).

A/N: I'm a bit struggling with writing currently, so I literally pushed myself to finish the chapter even with the ready dialogue from the episode. I hope I didn't mess it up so much. And I want to apologize ahead if I didn't add you to the taglist. I'm not good at being attentive to details, so please don't take it personally and don't hesitate to let me know if I accidentally skipped you <3.

Taglist: @your-shifting-gurl @bae-live-0 @richardsamboramylove55 @deansapplepie @snailss @denisecabrera @dreamtofus

You opened your eyes and stared at the ceiling of Daryl’s tent. Another tough morning, but with less nausea and headaches, thank God. It seems like your physical and mental states are gradually returning to normal. But you still feel worn out and lost because of the emotional rollercoasters and the events causing them.

You were thinking about whether Merle is still alive or not, hoping for the best, of course. You were scared to see Daryl finding out his brother had been cuffed on the roof of the building full of walkers. And it seemed like only you were bothered by this situation. Everyone else seemed not to care at all. It was obvious the Dixons were not members of a blue-blood family, but it wasn’t a reason for the group to take justice into their own hands. It hurt you that Rick didn't understand your concerns. Sure, he didn’t. You couldn't tell him that the rednecks were the only ones who somehow cared about you because his wife and best friend were too busy with each other. Yes, it wasn’t like the brothers did everything for you, but it was way more than Shane did. Let’s be honest; he did nothing except ignore you.

You finally decided to get up, making your way to get breakfast near the campfire. Sitting alone, you caught different looks from the people in the group. You were ready for it and tried not to pay much attention. After the meal, you went back to Daryl’s tent to brew coffee and read a book. Thanks to Carol, who understood your state and let you have your deserved rest. You went a bit further from the tent to find some wood. You slowly walked, collecting sticks, trying to occupy your mind with your favorite songs you hummed when suddenly you heard Shane’s voice.

“Hey, baby girl. Why are you walking here alone?” you turned around and saw him getting closer to you.

“How long have you been following me?” you asked, keeping a poker face but at the same time feeling some unexplainable sense of danger crawling under your skin, making you shiver.

“I haven’t. Just was walking around,” the man chuckled and stood up too close to you. You knew every inch of this person, all his moves, gestures, tones of voice, look. But this was a different person. He wasn’t the Shane you used to know and love. Something had changed in him.

“Shane, what do you want?” you were trying to register every move of him that could signalize danger so you could fight or flee. Surely not freeze.

“Nothing. Just to talk,” Shane’s smile was slowly fading away.

“Don’t you think you should do this with Rick first?” suddenly you thought you would need to run away soon. You didn’t know why this thought came to you, and the absence of reasoning made your heart race.

“I do think I should do it with you only,” Shane’s voice sounded lower. You gulped but tried to do your best to stay cold.

“Ah, gotcha. No one is going to admit you both messed up and tell Rick how ‘faithful’ you are. Of course, he’ll beat the shit out of you. But why do this when there’s me who can be threatened and manipulated any way you like, huh?” you still tried to hide any emotions, though you were trembling like a leaf when Shane took a step towards you. “Shane, don’t move. You are scaring me,” you laid your arm where your gun usually is, but you felt only the fabric of your clothes.

“You left the camp without your gun, Y/N,” this dickhead had been following you for a while and noticed you were unarmed.

Shit!

In another moment, you felt his arm squeezing your neck, slamming you into the nearest tree and hurting the back of your head. You instinctively tried to inhale but struggled to do so, ending up coughing.

"If Rick somehow finds out about Lori and me…” you barely heard him whispering in your ear but interrupted.

“Then what? You’ll kill me?” you huffed, trying to free yourself from Shane’s firm grip. “If she’s pregnant, then I’ll be such a waste of a weapon. What will you do then, huh?” Here, you realized you had found this weak spot by how his breath started shaking, and he couldn’t find any words to answer. “Oh, darling, you’re so fucked up,” you felt the squeeze become tighter. You looked into Shane’s eyes with your almost blurred sight.

“Nothing to say?” you felt Shane’s hard breath and tremble going through his hand still holding your neck. “Then finish what you’ve started because I won’t keep silent. I will make you pay for everything you've done to me, you piece of shit,” the slap of his hand stung your cheek and made you wince and close your eyes.

You heard some noise, similar to how arrows hit, followed by punches and curses. You exhaled with all your lungs, coughing as you were freed from Shane’s grip. You fell on the ground and blinked away the haze covering your sight, seeing Daryl sitting above Shane, who was laying on the ground, and punching him. The archer stopped for a second to have a look at you and felt relief you were alive. Pale, coughing, eyes washing with tears, but alive.

You heard Shane’s laugh. “Y/N, I see you didn’t waste any time as well.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and leaning on the tree.

After another punch to Shane’s face, Daryl gripped the man’s shirt collar.

“Listen carefully, ‘cause I won’t repeat this. If I ever see ya touching her, talking to her, or even looking at her. Any movement towards her I don’t like, ya’re dead. Ya’re fucking dead and will be feeding the walkers around,” Daryl stood up and walked towards you, taking out the arrow that had hit the tree next to you.

Shane stood up as well, wiping the blood from his nose and dusting himself off from the soil.

“You’re just in time, Daryl…” Shane started but was shut up by Daryl turning to him.

“Skull itching?” the archer clenched his fist, threatening to break the arrow he was holding.

“Talk to you later,” Shane mumbled and slowly headed back to camp.

“Are you okay?” Daryl sat down close to you, caressing your cheek to wipe away your tears. You could only shake your head in response. “What the hell was all that?”

“Rick…” you gulped to soothe your hoarse voice. “Rick, that friend I was talking about. He is back. His wife and Shane…”

“Gotcha. I gotcha,” Daryl bit his lower lip. “Where’s your weapon?”

“I left it in the tent…”

Daryl stood up and wiped the sweat beads covering his face.

“Why the hell is it in the tent?” Daryl yelled, looking at you crying. “I told ya your recklessness will kill ya one day. Lucky ya I was just coming back,” the archer was freaking out. His voice grew louder, his breath heavy and shaky. He bit his lower lip, obviously trying not to lose his composure completely.

“Daryl, I… I owe you till the end of my days,” you sniffled.

“I'll let it off if ya keep your damn weapon with ya and leave the camp at least with someone ya trust,” Daryl was still speaking in a raised voice, though he wasn’t angry at you. He was angry at the whole situation. He couldn’t cheer you up because he needed it as well. He understood your shock when a person you once considered beloved, shared plans and dreams with, and even bedded, nearly killed you. But witnessing that scene was too much for him. He just thanked whatever higher power there was that he arrived in time.

“Ya promise me?” you lifted your head to meet his eyes full of despair and just nodded as tears made your words stick in your throat.

“Good,” he took your hand to help you stand up. Scared to face his eyes again, you hugged his waist, leaning your head on his chest, hearing his heart threatening to jump out of his ribcage.

“Thank you,” you said trembling, clutching his shirt for dear life. You felt him tense, but he finally hugged you tightly and brushed your hair with his calloused fingers.

“Let’s go,” Daryl said with his gruff voice, loosening the hug. You nodded, letting him go, and waited for him to grab his crossbow from his hunting run.

“Nice garland,” you joked, pointing at the bundle of killed squirrels. Daryl rolled his eyes.

“Then ya won’t eat it but enjoy seeing it hanging near the tent.”

“I’d rather see Shane’s body instead,” you mumbled, earning a scrunched face from Daryl. Suddenly, you heard the noise of scrunched leaves, as if there was some animal nearby.

“Go back,” Daryl whispered. “I’ll come later. Seems like we’ll have deer today.”

You nodded and slowly moved towards the camp.

---

Arriving at the camp, you went into the tent to retrieve your gun, fearing your ex could do something stupid again, and headed to the campfire, seeing Daryl returning only with the squirrels. You guessed the attempt to catch the animal had failed.

“Merle!” Daryl called out. “Merle! Get your ugly ass right here! I got us some squirrels! Let’s stew ‘em up.”

“Daryl, just slow down a bit. I need to talk to you,” you saw Shane following the archer.

“Want to get another punch?” the younger Dixon turned around to Shane.

“Calm down. It’s about Merle. There was a… There was a problem out there.”

Daryl looked around to see all the people concerned and you avoiding his eyes, taking out a cigarette to light up. Your reaction hit him hard.

“He dead?”

“We’re not sure,” Shane answered, scratching his nose and hissing at the pain caused by Daryl’s right hook earlier.

“He either is or he ain’t!” Daryl started to freak out, not getting a clear answer from the group.

“No easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it,” you turned around slowly, puffing out smoke to see Rick coming up to the archer.

“Who are ya?”

“Rick Grimes.”

“Rick Grimes? Ya got something ya want ta tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all. So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He’s still there.”

“Why are you so sure?” you asked Rick and dropped the cigarette to stub it out.

“Y/N! This doesn’t help at all,” Rick glanced at you fiercely.

“I could have helped if you hadn’t stopped me!” you cried, yelling at your friend, who clenched his jaws, feeling guilty for everything that had happened on that damn roof.

“Hold on. Let me process this,” Daryl wiped away the tear threatening to fall, which caused your heart to twist in pain. He was so vulnerable and desperate; it hit you hard. He was always so caring towards you, but you couldn’t help him at all. Rick barely stopped you from driving to Atlanta yesterday.

“Ya’re saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and left him there?” the archer’s yell rang in your ears, feeling all the pain he was expressing.

“Yeah,” Rick looked at the ground to avoid the younger Dixon’s gaze, which was already burning him. Daryl breathed heavily, threw the bundle of squirrels to the sheriff, and was ready to attack him when suddenly he was pushed to the ground by Shane. You ran up to Daryl, but he took out a knife, so you stepped back in fear and froze. The archer stood up grunting and jumped at Rick but was stopped by Shane’s punch and then the further grip around his neck.

“Stop!” you shouted, but no one heard you as if you were not there.

“You’d better let me go!” Daryl huffed, trying to free himself.

“Nah, I think it’s better if I don’t,” Shane squeezed the archer’s neck.

“Chokehold’s illegal!” Daryl screamed, and you lost your temper, taking out the gun and pointing it at Shane.

“You can file a complaint,” Shane grunted but froze when he heard the click of the safety lock.

“Getting a little touchy-feely there today, hun?” you breathed heavily, feeling your sight hazy again and all the sounds becoming dull, turning to ringing. Shane slowly loosened the grip to free up Daryl, who was trying to catch his breath.

“Y/N,” Rick came up to you to calm you down but was stopped by you pointing the gun at him.

“I see this group understands only the language of violence, so I’ll talk this way,” you looked at everyone around. “You either have a calm discussion on this topic, or I’ll start shooting and attract walkers.”

“Calm down!” Shane growled at you but was cut off by you immediately.

“Don’t even talk to me if you want to be safe,” you said through gritted teeth, hinting by looking at Lori and back at him. You started to pray Rick hadn’t noticed it.

“Y/N, give me your gun. Please,” you looked at Rick slowly approaching you. You shook your head and locked the gun, putting it back in your harness. You took out another cigarette and lit it. Such a harmful and useless habit aimed to calm you down, but honestly, it never helped you. You sat on the log nearby and kept looking at the men who finally started a dialogue.

---

When you made sure Rick, Daryl, T-Dog, and Glenn worked out a plan to get back to Atlanta to find Merle and started to prepare for the run, you went to the tent to finally have your coffee and a book. Daryl followed you to take another arrows.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Didn’t know ya were such a hothead.”

“Me neither,” you replied emotionlessly and looked back at the man.

“Merle would like it.”

“And you?” your question made Daryl fluster.

“I still think ya’re reckless. But ya learn fast. I’ll tell ya some tricks when I’m back,” the man mumbled confusedly.

“Take care of yourself,” you gently smiled at him, causing butterflies in the archer’s stomach.

The man nodded and chewed his lower lip. “You too.”

You also nodded and watched the archer walk away.

< Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 >

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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Can Anybody See Me? Part 21

Executive dysfunction is a bitch and can go to hell. I had something I could have posted yesterday while I was working on this, but no...

I am starting to wonder if maybe I shot myself in the foot with my tag rant as engagement for the last Reconnect AU was WAY down. But oh well. I can only continue to move on and hope I find new people who like my stuff.

All righty, my lovelies. We have gotten to the part where I was going to end it originally before you absolute menaces said you wanted me to continue it through season 4.

But here’s the deal, this story has reached nearly novel length of 40k. So what I’ve decided to do is call this the end of book one. And then I will start up book two, which will be through to the end of the school year and probably through the events of season 3. And then book 3 should take us the rest of the way.

I hope that’s acceptable to all of you. I want to continue it, but I think from here on out the title doesn’t fit Steve anymore and he needs a new one.

Now if you’ve followed me long enough, you know that I don’t start putting out a story until it’s done (if it’s short enough) or if I’m three to four chapters deep. So hopefully by the end of the month (if not sooner) you should start seeing book two.

I will run a poll on how you think I should do the tag list for it. But thank you all for coming with me on this absolutely wild ride. And hope you’ll stick around for the next two parts.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

***

Word had been handed down, Mindy Jones, Ollie Anderson, and Kyle Carver had been suspended with word that Kyle being the instigator might be expelled. For sure he wasn’t going to be able to walk in his cap and gown at graduation.

Steve felt a sense of relief and strangely justice too. Yes, all right suspension wasn’t getting expelled, but the kids had been punished. They didn’t try to hand wave it away.

Steve had heard that Mr Vinke, the math teacher, Mr Cole, Miss Lucy, and Chief Hopper had all gone to the principal and superintendent for all three of them to be expelled.

The suspension was a given, but the school district wanted to do their own investigation and then expulsions might be handed out after it was complete.

Steve didn’t have much hope.

Marty, Gethin, and Janice all sat with the Corroded Coffin boys at lunch, something they didn’t normally do.

“Fuck,” Janice swore. “Why I am more nervous about tonight than I have all week?”

Steve nodded, poking at his food. “I haven’t been this queasy since I took a plate to the head.”

Everyone winced and murmured sympathetic platitudes and other noises of sympathy.

“I think it’s because it’s your last performance,” Gethin murmured. “Your last chance to completely biff it on stage.” Steve and Janice looked at him in wide-eyed fear. He waved his hands placatingly. “Not that I think you will. Just that your brain thinks you will.”

Steve and Janice looked at each other and then nodded.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “That tracks.”

Eddie slid his hand under the table and gripped Steve’s knee. Steve covered his hand with his own and gave it a squeeze of thank you.

Steve scanned the crowd the second night. He spotted Jeff and all his family, Gareth and Gethin and their parents, Brian and all of his younger siblings, and what looked like his dad. Wayne shuffled in his seat nervously, having never been to a musical before. But still no sign of his parents.

His mom promised that at least she would be there, even if his dad refused to come. And he held on to that. He managed to make it through the show and held it together.

He went out to be congratulated by his friends and their families. Wayne brought him flowers.

“You did good, boy,” he said gruffly, after giving him a hug. “I looked it up and flowers are the gift you give someone after a well-done performance.”

Steve looked down at the bouquet of wild flowers and smiled. “Thank you. I love them.”

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. “They might be a tad wilted by the time we’re done, because we’re taking you out to eat in celebration.”

Steve teared up a bit. “Thanks, guys.”

Gareth smiled. “You deserve it, man. That was awesome!”

Gethin nudged his shoulder. “We’re just waiting for Janice and Eddie to get done.”

Steve nodded. Eddie had to reset the stage for tomorrow and Janice had to get out of a corset and that took some time.

“Yeah, no problem!” he enthused.

Eddie finished first and came out to meet them.

“Hey, Steve!” he said. “Feeling famous yet?”

Steve laughed. “I’m going to get fat if this keeps up. First ice cream last night and then dinner tonight.”

They all laughed. “It’s impossible for you to gain weight, man,” Brian huffed. “I’ve seen you eat a whole pizza and didn’t even get bloated.”

Steve laughed. “Playing three sports does that to you. Hell, I still life guard at the rec center every summer.”

Brian eyed his lean form skeptically. “I suppose so.”

“Swimming’s fun,” Steve said. “And it’s not just for us jock types.”

Janice finally came out. “Sorry to keep you waiting guys. Sharing with Tammy Thompson is hell let me tell you. I don’t know how someone so tiny can take up so much room.”

“At least you don’t have to share the choir room with twenty sweaty dudes that wouldn’t know deodorant if it bit them in the ass,” Steve grumped.

Gethin shook his head. “Shouldn’t you be used to that from sports?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “At least there are showers after basketball. Can’t say the same here.”

Gethin’s lips curled. “Fair.”

Wayne clapped his hands. “All right, I’ve got us a place reserved, so we need to hustle. Eddie and Steve are coming with me.”

Eddie and Steve filed out with the rest of them and followed Wayne out to his truck.

Steve slid into the middle between Eddie and Wayne.

“Thanks for this, Wayne,” he murmured. “And the flowers, too.”

“You’re welcome, Stevie,” he said. “I didn’t see your parents. Did they show up last night?”

Steve shared a glance with Eddie and then shook his head. “There’s still tomorrow.”

Wayne and Eddie shared a glance of concern over Steve’s head.

“I’m sure that’s the case,” Wayne agreed.

An uneasy silence settled on them as they drove to the restaurant. Wayne parked and turned to Steve.

He pulled him in for a great big hug and then opened the door. “It’ll be all right.”

Steve nodded and slid out after Eddie.

The dinner was just as ruckus as the ice cream parlor the night before. With just as many people. Steve looked around and smiled.

Yeah, 1985 was his year and it was just getting started.

Steve looked out to the audience and knew, even in the dimmed lights his parents weren’t there.

“Tell me, Mr Thomson, out of curiosity, do you stand with Mr Dickinson, or do you stand with me?” Vince asked.

Steve could feel the sting of tears in his eyes. He held up the dispatch. “I stand with the General. Lately–I’ve had the oddest feeling that he’s been–writing to me…”

He slowly rose to his feet as he sang,

“I have been in expectation Of receiving a reply On the subject of my last fifteen dispatches. Is anybody there?”

His voice cracked with emotion as he stepped half out of the spotlight.

“Does anybody care? Does anybody care? Y’r humble & ob’d’t–”

The drum rolled and Steve looked up into the eagle’s nest where Eddie was doing the spotlight. A single tear ran down his cheek.

Steve looked down at the paper in his hand and then back up at Eddie. And then he exited the scene on cue.

Eddie swore he saw more tears in that moment then for ‘Mama Look Sharp’ that night.

But that performance of Steve’s brought out something in Vince in that moment. Vince’s John Adams bid Hancock good night, but then it changed. All the emotion and fear of not being seen or heard. The loneliness that Adams must have been feeling in that moment, borrowed from the loneliness of both Washington and Thomson.

“Is anybody there–”

Silence.

“Does anybody care–?”

Again, nothing.

“Does anybody see–what I see?”

And then Kenny came on and delivered the line with a sharpness that hadn’t been there before.

“Yes, Mr Adams, I do.” As if to banish all the fears and insecurities that John was having in that moment.

And Steve could almost hear it as though it was coming from Eddie. As if it was coming from his friends. The party. Wayne.

Yes, his parents weren’t there. They never were. And probably never were going to be. But that didn’t mean that no one was listening to Steve. That no one cared.

They all cared. Every last one of the dozens of people that showed up the last two nights. They cared. They brought their families. Brought flowers. Thought he was worthy of celebrating. Worth treating.

For the boy with the bat.

The boy that never knew what love really was until he looked up from a god damned garbage can into those warm and friendly brown eyes. A warm hand on his back and a gentle ‘Are you okay?’

In that moment, Steve’s life had become changed. Different. Better. All because a teacher took pity on Steve and chose Eddie Munson of all people to be Steve’s protector.

And he looked up at Eddie in the rafters and though he couldn’t see him, he knew that Eddie was looking back at him. Smiling back at him. Loving him for all his worth.

And if you had asked Steve what his worth was back in December he would have told you nothing. He wasn’t worth anything but being the baby-sitter. But now?

Now Steve was a baby-sitter, chauffeur, groupie, actor, chef, swimmer, friend, brother, and most importantly boyfriend. And maybe if he was really lucky, someone’s son.

***

Fin.

Fuck, rereading this to add back in the formatting made me cry. My apologies if it makes you cry too.

Tag List: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @garden-of-gay @anaibis @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @lovelyscot @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @jinxjinn @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @estrellami-1 @dangdirtydemons @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailtiha writes

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azukiel · 10 months

Text

Nightfall Heir Chapter 6

🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW

Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Kidnapping, Pregnancy and Childbirth

⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐

Summary: Two years have passed since the events surrounding the destruction of the Absolute. Baldur's Gate is slowly rebuilding itself from the rubble, and you and your companions have established yourselves within the city to help in its restoration.

You and your vampiric lover, Astarion, had been nigh inseparable since coming back together. Yet a certain turn of events saw to your kidnapping and then... to your unexpected pregnancy.

🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥

Regrettably, Astarion had important tasks to complete and couldn't join you on your journey back. Despite your offer to keep him company at the Halls of Justice, he knew he would just want to keep riding you to oblivion after what had just occurred. He assured and promised to do so upon his return home. That had brought a deep blush to your cheeks, which only caused him to smirk and laugh.

“How long do you think it will be before you’re done?” You asked, sending him a telling gaze.

“Well,” he grinned as he fiddled with the ring on his finger. “I intend to make quick work of my reports.”

You grinned deviously. “Hurry home as fast as you can. I’ll have dinner ready,” you offered.

“We don’t need dinner, my love.”

You shook your head, chuckling, “You may not need food, but I do!”

“Oh, I know, but I intend to devour you entirely. Make sure you're well fed before I return.”

“Is that an order?” You fluttered your eyelashes bashfully.

“Yes!” He gave you a quick, teasing slap on your backside. “So when you get home, make sure you rest. You're going to need your energy tonight.”

“So ravenous,” you purred.

“Only for you,” he smirked.

“So you’ve told me,” you grinned, and brought him in for a hug and a last deep kiss.

“See you later,” he murmured, his ruby gaze fixated on your eyes.

“Try to hurry home,” you reiterated, staring back intently.

“I shall see what I can do.”

As the two of you unlocked your loving hold on each other, you rose to the tip of your toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. “My heroic magistrate, off to do the law’s bidding.”

His smouldering gaze was all-knowing, but he chuckled anyway, rolling his eyes at your banter. “Off you go.”

And so you did, taking his advice and making the long walk back to your humble abode. Your mind lingered on the pleasant events that just transpired. Gods, there was something so pleasantly filthy - raunchy - in what you had both just done.

The memory made you nibble on your bottom lip and shiver from his promises. You needed to get home and rest, for he was going to utterly devour you. The events left you utterly depleted, and your mind continued to speculate on his recent insatiable appetite. The sudden occurrence happened even before menstruation, so there was no room for complaint. You resolved to discuss it with him at some later time. Perhaps he was just content to finally being free to control his own life; finally free to feel the true warmth of being loved and needed. Of being wanted. For many years, it was something you had desired. Astarion's fall for you introduced you to a love you had never known. The elusive feeling of a true love's kiss and the longing embrace of someone who truly desired you had always been out of reach. You had only ever known pain. You were grateful that the two of you could find such euphoric joy in one another. The partnership may not be seen as appropriate or respectable by everyone, but you felt no shame in his arms. With him by your side, you felt you could accomplish anything.

If the city was still in one piece, your walk would have not taken so long. Due to numerous collapsed buildings and broken roads awaiting repair, you had to take a longer route. With main roads still crowded with repair crews, merchants, and people going about their daily business, you chose the quieter back streets that had been cleared. With the many dilapidated structures, homeless people seeking shelter could find reprieve against the elements.

Your heart went out to those poor, innocent people. It agonized you to see the destruction that had been done by the Absolute.

Continuing on your way, you offered a couple of gold coins to the desperate people who approached you. Giving up a few coins for the greater good didn't bother you. Making Baldur's Gate a pleasant place to reside was necessary. Sighing, you continued on your way, reaching narrower and less populated alleys. You were heading into the bowels of the lower city now.

Your Drow senses quickly detected that you were being followed. The sensation of being spied on caused you to quickly look back, but there was nothing unusual in sight. Squinting your eyes, you sped up your pace.

You couldn’t hear the footsteps running up from behind you, for their movements were far too light for mortal ears to detect. But you felt them. The cold fury that surrounded your pursuer was like icy teeth latching onto your skin. Spinning on the spot, your magic arced up your fingertips in eager anticipation of a fight. You were not known to be cowardly, and neither did you like the idea of getting caught unawares.

You steeled yourself to counter any form of attack, whether physical or one of a magical nature. Yet, no matter how hard you scrutinised, there were no visible signs of any potential opponents. At first, you were confused and concerned. Were you just being paranoid? Had the many nights with Astarion clouded your senses?

Deciding it was just your nerves or your own imagination playing tricks upon you, you turned around, intent on continuing home. Only there was a subtle, melancholic humming in the air, as if singing a sad ballad. It sent your senses on a tingling wave, for the tone of it reminded you of the soothing murmur of the brooks and streams from home, deep within the Underdark. A home that, in truth, you did not miss.

Ignoring the musical notes dancing along the back of your neck, you continued on. Though you did so, your feet felt heavier with every step. A sinking feeling began in the pit of your stomach, a sensation that told you something was terribly wrong.

Glancing over your shoulder once more, you felt a chill breeze snake its way through the folds of your skirts. It made you shudder, and the melody seemed to hum louder, beckoning you into the unknown. Your senses were screaming at you.

Suddenly, your entire body stopped. Though it did not physically strain from the opposing force, the invisible chains of whatever spell that had been woven around you seemed to tighten their grip.

Despite the painful seizure of your body, you twisted your head around enough to see the figure a short distance behind you, cloaked in shadows. Through gritted teeth you muttered an incantation, and the twisting of the invincible chains vanished as the figure screamed, clutching the sides of their head. You knew it was wise not to linger and went to chant an invincibility spell, but no sooner did you open your mouth to mutter the words did you feel something being pulled over your head and tightened around your throat. The tingling of the weave which coursed through your veins vanished.

“No...” Items that could subdue your powers were virtually unheard of.

Your knees abruptly gave way, and you toppled to the ground. You felt every ounce of your breath being squeezed from your lungs. The cloaked figure, who previously tried to subdue you, approached while still holding their head.

“Mistress’ orders. She is not to be harmed.” Came the gruff male voice.

You heard a female scoff. “I know! You needn’t remind me! We need to bring her back immediately. She is fighting the collar. I do not know how long it will last.”

All you can remember is the blunt pain of a fist connecting with your skull.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #astarion daddy #Astarion as a daddy #Astarion and Tav have a child #Nightfall heir #bg3 #dadstarion #astarion has a child with tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate astarion #astarion my beloved

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schrijverr · 8 months

Text

You Don’t Know Me, But I Know You 3

Chapter 3 out of 6

5 times Tim showed he stalked Robin + 1 time Jason did

Inspired by this post of thecrazyleader.

On AO3.

Ships none

Warnings: none

~~~~

3. A Familiar Story

This time, they’re not out on patrol, but sitting around in the living room. It’s a rare moment that Jason is joining them, not for a case, but just to hang around.

They’re all in the library, draped over the comfortable chairs and couches there. Duke and Damian had been doing homework, while Tim worked on WE stuff and Jason read a book. However, they have all slowly abandoned what they were doing and are now sharing stories of their time as vigilantes (mostly trying to one up each other in front of Duke, the new guy, the fresh canvas).

Jason is talking now, just finishing his story smugly with: “And that’s how I knocked out Killer Croc with one punch. Guy never saw it coming.”

“Are you for real, man?” Duke asks, both awed and skeptical.

“Yeah, I had a mean right hook, even back on the street. He didn’t stand a chance,” Jason brags.

“I don’t know,” Duke says, a little apologetic. “You were our Crime Alley Robin, everyone heard you talk. We were extra proud of you back there. I kept up. But you were like a 100 pounds soaking wet back then. I’ve fought Killer Croc, there’s no way.”

“Tt, it does seem unrealistic, Todd. It’s unbecoming to aggrandize yourself and a tactical error,” Damian says.

“Oi, brat, I was your size back then, think you couldn’t KO Croc?” Jason shoots back, getting annoyed.

“Of course I could,” Damian sniffs. “But unlike you, I have years of training and am naturally more gifted when it comes to martial arts.”

“Who’s aggrandizing now, you little shit,” Jason snarls, gearing up to jump Damian, when they’re interrupted by Tim, who says: “Nah, Jason’s telling the truth.”

“What?” Duke chokes.

“Why are you taking my side all of a sudden?” Jason asks, suspicious (which is fair, since Tim usually doesn’t take his side, often leaving him on his own, even when Tim knows he’s right, just because he can).

“I took pictures of it,” Tim shrugs. “I can show them to you if you don’t believe it.”

“What the fuck,” Duke mutters softly, but he’s drowned out by Damian telling Tim to cease aiding and abetting Jason’s lies, while Jason demands Tim shows them the photos so he can get justice.

Soon they’re in Tim’s bedroom, where Tim is dragging a big box from one of his closets that is marked with the date of Jason’s second year as Robin. As he opens it up to reveal tons of photos, Jason comments: “Okay, if I wasn’t so hell bend on proving my badass-ness, I would comment on what a fucking creep you were, Timbo.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Tim says resentfully. “It’s just a hobby.”

“Can anyone please tell me what the hell is going on? Where did he get all these?” Duke asks, sounding a little scared as he watches Tim go through the box to find the right one.

“B didn’t say that Tim only got my job because he used to stalk us?” Jason asks, though it’s more a comment.

“It’s so pathetic, it is obvious that only Drake would wiggle his way in like that,” Damian says, managing to judge both Tim for the photos, Bruce for adopting Tim and Duke for not knowing.

“No,” Duke replies, a little shrilly.

“It’s in the files, don’t any of you read those?” Tim complains, before making an aha sound as he pulls out a photo set that shows exactly what Jason described.

Jason holds them above his head as he crows: “Victory!” before he ruffles Tim’s head: “You’re still a fucking creeper though, Timbit.”

“You don’t get to complain when I’m backing you up,” Tim bitches back, snatching the photos back.

#rr writing #batman #red robin #tim drake #stalker tim drake #duke thomas #jason todd #damian wayne #batfam #batfamily #dc #dc comics #red hood #signal #robin

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scuttling · 2 months

Text

I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 3

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 4,323 Tags: 18+, NSFW in later chapters, it's gonna get real nasty, Canon blood and gore Summary: Sookie's cousin returns to Bon Temps, and Eric wants her... to work for him.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

A week later, she gets her first call from Fangtasia—but it’s Eric's colleague Pam, not Eric, who makes the call. She says it’s urgent, but that she can’t give any details, so Cam throws on a pair of jeans and boots, a black high-neck tank, and drives to the bar. When she gets out of her car, Eric is standing there, waiting in the parking lot.

“Camila. Come with me,” he murmurs, taking her arm; instead of guiding her toward the front door, his long legs head for the sidewalk, and he walks her down the block—away from the bar and, she guesses, prying vampire ears.

“What’s going on?” she whispers, curious, and he moves his hand to her back casually, like he’s hoping they’ll look more like any couple walking down the street and less like he’s abducted her or something. He leans in so she can hear him better.

“There is a group of nomads visiting from Florida, and they passed through another area on the way here. The sheriff of that area has reason to believe they’re holding a human against his will.”

Cam nods. Kidnapping a human is not a mortal offense in most areas, but it is frowned upon by those who wish to assimilate, live semi-normal lives. It’s certainly punishable here, if they can prove it.

“And if they are—what will you do?” Her eyes flick up to his face, and he appears bored by her question, maybe even a little irritated.

“We will glamour the human and send him home, then arrange for the sheriff to come and collect his prisoners. You can drive the human personally, if that would make you feel better,” he says, looking down at her; his tone borders on condescending, and she rolls her eyes.

“I just wanted to make sure justice will be served for the crime. You’ll have to get used to my inquisitive nature, if you plan to utilize my gift,” she reminds him, and he exhales slowly. He turns them around and they head down the street, back toward the bar.

“In time, you’ll find I’m a very effective sheriff. You don’t have to be worried about whether or not I punish those who deserve it.”

Despite her previous question, she has no doubts about that—but she remembers from experience that vampires tend to leave humans in the dark by default, and she needs to know what she’s getting into if she’s going to be such a powerful sheriff’s pawn.

“Who will I be listening to?” she asks, because he already knows vampires are pretty much a no-go, but he clearly thinks she’s going to be up to this challenge.

“There is an entourage made up of vampires and human companions alike. I’m hoping the humans will give it away.”

“And how will I let you know if I discover something? We haven’t discussed that part, and I like to be prepared,” she tells him, trying to keep up with his steps. It feels like they’re on The West Wing, or something dramatic like that. “Code word? Text message?”

“Let’s say text message, for now,” he decides. She can see the neon lights of the club as they approach the parking lot, and Eric removes his hand from her back and looks down at her. “I’m going to be walking around, so if you sense danger…”

“I’ll let you know. Telepath’s honor,” she says with a satirical tip of her head, and he opens the door, his expression unchanging. She walks a few feet inside the club, past bouncers who already know her as some kind of employee, and when she turns back to thank him for the briefing, Eric is gone.

Unconcerned by his swift and mysterious disappearance, she makes her way to the bar and orders a drink, perching on a stool as she waits for it. After the bartender slides it toward her, she makes a show of sipping it, tipping her head back so her throat is exposed, and a vampire beside her growls low. He’s got a shaved head and soft, pillowy lips, and if she were here for pleasure, she’d seriously consider it.

Since she’s not, she stands and heads toward the back of the bar, where Pam is playing hostess to the group of nomads. She takes stock of them—three men, two women, all supernaturally gorgeous—and infers from the way they’re watching over a group of half-naked, dancing humans that those are the companions she’s expected to listen to. She weaves her way into the crowd and sidles up to a young man with soft looking brown hair and clear green eyes, then hip-checks him. It’s not hard, but it gets him to look back, and she smiles apologetically.

“Sorry, hon!” she says, and he mouths no problem and reaches a hand out to her. She takes it, letting him spin her around, and when he releases his hold she leans in, her voice slightly raised so he can hear her over the music. “Hey, I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new in town?” He smiles and shakes his head.

“Not from here, just passing through. I’m Shane.”

“Cam,” she replies, and she glances around at the others, raises her eyebrows. “These your friends?”

“More like family,” he says, and his smile grows wide, fond. “We travel together, you know? We’re the family we chose.”

“That sounds awesome, actually,” she replies, adding a bit of wistfulness to her voice. “I’ve always been jealous of people like you—people who are brave enough to lay their own path, make their own choices.” Shane ducks his head like he’s embarrassed about what he plans to share next.

“It wasn’t easy. I had to completely cut ties with my homophobic parents, work two, sometimes three shit jobs to make enough money just to live. I was exhausted, depressed… and then I met Clive, and everything just kind of fell into place.” His gaze drifts to one of the vampires, a short, blond man with warm brown eyes, and the devotion he has for him is clear. And real, no glamouring or threatening or fear poisoning Shane’s thoughts.

“I can tell you really love him,” she says aloud. She scans the minds of the other humans surrounding him, and none of them are glamoured, either. They think a lot about blood and sex, but they’re here of their own free will, hedonism aside. More than that, they’re happy, well taken care of. Content.

“Yeah,” Shane says, something like yearning in his voice, and then he looks back at her, his eyes soft. “Do you want to come with us? We’re heading to Tennessee next. There’s always room for one more, and you seem really nice.” Surprised, she looks away from the group and tilts her head, shows him a gentle smile.

“No, I don’t think so, but it’s kind of you to offer. There might be more for me here than I think.” Cam reaches out to take his hand and squeezes it, just to be sure—and everything he’s said is true, from the pain to the pleasure. As she sifts through his memories more carefully, she’s hit with a warm rush of pride for this man she barely even knows. “Take care of yourself, Shane.”

“You too, Cam—good luck!” he calls out as she walks away.

She makes it to the bar, orders another drink, but she doesn't have a chance to pull out her phone to text Eric: he just shows up, arms folded in front of him, leaning against the stool beside her.

“You think the human wants to be here? That he’s… in love?” he asks, looking out over the crowd, at the visiting clan. Cam turns toward him, nods softly.

“Yeah, seems like it. I didn’t talk to that one directly, but from what I gathered, it’s his ex who's causing trouble with the sheriff. She wasn’t being kind to him, and the vampire in the red dress?” She takes a sip of her drink and gestures to a statuesque brunette, standing with a dark haired man she knows to be the human in question. “She convinced him to leave, to join them. It’s been six months, and he’s never been happier.”

“Interesting,” Eric murmurs, almost under his breath. “Humans never cease to surprise me, even after all this time.”

“What do you mean?” He looks over at her for the first time, and she raises her eyebrow, puzzled. “You didn’t think humans were capable of loving vampires?” He clears his throat.

“I knew they claimed it, but I assumed it had more to do with the high, the pleasure, than anything else. The way you describe it, their feelings seem deeper. Genuine.”

She’s not sure what he’s getting at—does he think humans are inferior, incapable of such emotion, or that vampires are simply unworthy of receiving it? Rather than start that kind of debate, with her employer, in a packed nightclub, she takes a deep breath and exhales long.

“That’s what I felt when I read their minds, and I’ve read love before. I know when it’s genuine.” She takes another sip of her martini, and slowly, like he’s carefully considering her words, Eric nods.

“Have you ever been in love?” he asks, and again, not really a topic she wants to discuss with anyone, but especially not him…

So she’s not quite sure why she answers. “In hindsight, I’d have to say no. It’s not that I haven’t had relationships—I have, and I’ve been… infatuated, lustful, frenzied… but I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” He looks into her eyes, almost through them, like he’s trying to determine if she’s being honest with him—and she is, she really is. “Have you ever been in love?” she asks in return, but Eric straightens then, rests his hand on the bar, and looks back at the crowd.

“You did very well tonight. Thank you,” he says with just a glance in her direction before he strides over to the group of nomads. Because she can take a hint, she finishes her drink, pays her tab, and goes home.

When she checks her banking app the next morning, there is a $500 transfer from the Fangtasia account.

Not too bad for an hour of her time.

Cam goes to see Tara at work later in the week, sidling up to the bar in a leather jacket and jeans, a contented smile on her face. Even though Merlotte’s wasn’t around the last time she lived in Bon Temps, it still provides nostalgic, homey comfort somewhere in her mind. Sam nods at her and smiles.

“Well hey there, Cam. What can I get ya?” he asks, tossing a bar towel over his flannel-clad shoulder. Tara doesn’t turn at his greeting, because she’s concentrating on pouring a line of even shots, so Cam slides onto a stool and sets her phone down on the bar.

“Hi, Sam. I’ll take a Stella, please, and that hot bartender’s phone number.”

Her teasing tone finally gets Tara to look at her over her shoulder, her answering grin bright.

“I hear you over there, you little creature of the night,” Tara jokes back, “and if Sam would take these over to table four for me, I can get that beer for one of my best friends in the world, who I missed very much.”

She lays it on thick, clearly trying to guilt trip him, and Sam doesn’t need to be asked twice, just chuckles and takes the tray of shots from her hands. There’s a little bit of lingering eye contact there that Cam doesn’t think she’s imagining—and she’s definitely not imagining the way Tara checks out his ass as he goes.

Cam clears her throat.

“So, Cami Reyes, as I live and breathe,” Tara says when that moment is broken and her gaze returns to Cam’s. If she noticed Cam watching her, she doesn’t say. “You finally get a break from all that vampire business?”

“This week has been pretty light, actually. I took care of some daytime administrative stuff for the club, listened to a few minds, the usual,” she says with a smile. Tara grabs a glass and pours her a golden lager from the tap, capped off with a thick, white head of foam. Cam takes the glass appreciatively and sips it long and slow. “Mmm. Thank you. Have you been busy here?” she asks, looking around at the booming bar.

“Busier than I’d like to be, some nights,” Tara says with a sigh of exasperation. “We’re still lookin' for another bartender to cover Thursdays and Fridays—I’ve been workin' overtime as a favor to Sam.” Tara looks over at her boss, her eyes tracking him as he wipes his hands on a towel and walks back into the office area. Cam hums.

“That’s good of you. He seems like a great guy,” she says lightly, leading, and takes another sip of her beer. Tara purses her lips like she’s trying to hold back a smirk.

“Yeah, he’s real nice. Good guy to work for,” she responds; Cam narrows her eyes at her, and after a moment, Tara narrows hers back. “What, are you readin’ my mind or somethin’?” Cam’s palms go up instinctively.

“You know I would never… but asking me that question means there’s something in your mind to read.” She lowers her hands and raises her eyebrows, takes another drink. “Just saying.”

“Just sayin’ nothin’, Cami. I’m allowed to have secrets too; I mean, I’m not the one who up and left Louisiana and didn’t come back for ten whole years,” she says, hands moving to her hips. Her tone is wounded, and a little accusatory, and Cam sighs, guilt climbing up her throat.

“I know, and I’m sorry, Tara. I missed it here, I really did—but work got crazy, and I got sucked into some shit, and I’m finally out of it. I’m here now,” she reminds her, tone lightening, and she reaches out her hands to take one of Tara’s. Thankfully, her friend doesn’t pull away. “And I’m not leaving Louisiana any time soon, I promise.”

It hurts Cam to say it, even though she has no intentions of leaving the area again—enough people have failed Tara, disappointed her, and the last thing she wants is to be added to that list. She couldn’t bear it.

Tara nods slowly, then puts her other hand on top of Cam’s and squeezes.

“I’m not mad, I’m just glad you’re back, is all. It wasn’t the same without you. Charlie’s Angels with only two just isn’t right,” she adds, calling back to the old nickname Gran used for the three of them. Cam fondly remembers the summers when they’d get up at dawn and run around town all day together, eating penny candy and popsicles from the ice cream truck until their teeth were sore and their tongues were blue.

Tara squeezes her hands again, then releases them and grabs a bowl of potato chips, places it next to Cam’s glass.

“So… vampire rights attorney,” Tara drawls as Cam plucks a couple of chips from the bowl, crunching on them. Cam raises her brow, chews, and Tara shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong, I think Bill’s okay and all, but do you really think they need our help? They can snap anyone’s neck they feel like; maybe you should be lookin’ out for the little guy.”

“Oh, I do that too,” Cam assures her, washing the salt down with another sip of beer. “But you might be surprised at how often vampires are falsely accused of crimes—then again, maybe you wouldn’t be,” she says pointedly, and Tara sighs, nodding like she gets it. Cam continues on. “They’re people too, and they need someone looking out for them. Not many of us are willing to stick out our necks—no pun intended,” she adds with a grin. Tara rolls her eyes, but it’s all in good fun, and then Cam’s phone buzzes on the table beside her.

“I know you don’t have a boyfriend, or I’d be hearin’ about him, so… vampire business?” Tara asks as Cam reaches for the phone. Her eyes flick over the screen.

“Vampire business,” she confirms as she reads over the text—it’s a set of coordinates, and clicking the link automatically opens her Maps app, its pin located in what appears to be the middle of the woods not far from Sam’s bar. She finishes the last glug of her beer and stands up, pulls a $20 bill from her pocket and lays it on the counter. Tara opens her mouth to protest, but Cam just raises a finger. “You’re the best bartender in the world, you deserve it—and you can use it to take me to dinner next week, somewhere you don’t work.”

“Alright, alright, it’s a date. But you better get goin',” Tara replies, waving a hand in her friend’s direction. “I’ll text you my schedule. Don’t get yourself eaten!”

Cam waves back and slips out the front door, holding her phone up in front of her so she can follow the app’s projected path. Her eyes quickly adjust to the dark, the soles of her boots making soft sounds against damp earth and foliage, but she stops in surprise about a mile in, when she sees a bright white beam of light, and then the repetitive flashing of police blue-and-reds.

Eric appears next to her, like always, and she grabs the sleeve of his jacket. “What are we doing here?” she hisses under her breath as she scans the area, clocks at least 10 officials who actually belong at what is clearly an active crime scene. Eric places his palm against the middle of her back and slowly guides her toward a plain-clothes cop.

“Detective Graham and I have an agreement. When he comes across an unusual death, he calls me.” As they approach the detective, a man in his fifties with sandy hair and late-night stubble, Cam notices a white sheet draped over an oddly shaped mound—a vaguely human-shaped mound, which leaves bright red splotches that soak and bleed into the sheet near the bottom hem. “Camila,” Eric says suddenly, which causes her to look up from the unknown mass like a spell broken, “I have to warn you: the victim here has been cut in half, and the police have only located the top half of her body. If you think you can’t handle it–”

“I can handle it,” she responds, her voice soft but sure, and he nods and reaches out his hand when he’s close enough to shake the detective’s.

“Mr. Northman, pleasure,” Detective Graham greets roughly, though he doesn’t sound as if he means it. His eyes move from Eric’s to Cam’s, and he scrutinizes her face. “This your psychic?”

“She is,” Eric replies coolly. “Her name is Camila Reyes… And, unfortunately, with the victim in this state, I’m afraid she’s going to need to touch the body.”

The detective heaves a deep, unhappy breath.

“You gotta know how this looks to the rest of the guys already, me bringin' in a vampire and a psychic,” Graham says, shaking his head. “But sure, why not. Let’s tamper with evidence while we’re at it.”

“I don’t intend to alter the scene in any way, Detective,” Cam assures, stepping forward and letting her eyes roam over the clearing, “and I assume your techs have already taken fingerprints, trace samples, if they found any.” Her gaze flicks over to a small group of tired looking officers wearing Crime Scene jackets and sipping coffee from a thermos; they clearly have nothing better to do at the moment, which means all that can be done has been completed already. “You can take mine to rule me out, if you’d like.”

“You a cop?” Graham asks gruffly, watching her as she appraises the scene, the unsettled earth around the body, the trail of blood that tells them she was cut in half elsewhere and dragged to this spot. Cam shakes her head, then crouches down and lifts a corner of the sheet to look at their victim’s face.

“Lawyer,” she answers, and she does her best to school her expression; the dead woman looks to be in her forties, white, with jet black hair and a set of golden eyes that are wide and unmoving. She’s naked, and her body is shredded at the torso—not a clean incision like she’d expect from a serial killer, someone with practice severing limbs. There are no marks on her face or arms, just ragged cuts along her weeping, empty midsection. “Imprecise, savage bisection, teeth marks, organs have been removed,” she notes, and she looks up at Eric, wondering if he’ll attribute this to the same killer she’s picturing.

“Werewolf,” he answers seriously, and she nods once, glad they’re on the same page. Graham splutters.

“I’m sorry, werewolf?” he asks, incredulous. “Don’t tell me those things are real too.” Cam just shrugs—she’s been on this end of many a supernatural revelation before, nothing you can say really helps—and presses her hand to the cold skin of the victim’s arm.

Memories flash through her mind, some older, though the more recent ones are what she’s looking for. A man frequents those, someone tall and tan with copper-colored hair and a sweet smile, but he dissolves quickly into feelings of rage and sadness, loss, heartbreak. There is vindication, elation, and then abruptly, nothing. Cam pulls her hand away, covers the woman’s face, and stands.

“Her mate was killed, and she went after the pack for revenge. It seems like she killed one of theirs and they returned the favor. You’re going to want to rule this an accident,” she tells the detective as she walks toward them, and he crosses his arms in front of him, his expression closed off and irritated.

“Like hell—we have trace evidence.”

“And I can tell you exactly what your lab will find when they process it: no fingerprints, no fibers,” she lists, ticking off her fingers as she goes. “Saliva will be canine, hair will be canine. You won’t be able to match a weapon to the wounds, and either the DA will drop your case right there, or,” she adds, pausing for effect, “if you flip a coin and decide to go the dental impression route, the teeth will be canine, too. The ME will consult the Department of Wildlife and determine that your attacker is something larger than the local coyote population, but slightly smaller than a black bear.”

“We could interview her known acquaintances, find someone with a motive,” Graham counters, and though Eric looks like he’s about to step in, Cam continues, her tone more sympathetic.

“No offense, Detective, but you didn’t know werewolves existed five minutes ago. How do you plan to locate a pack, infiltrate it, and arrest whoever is responsible? And even if you did find the pack, any good defense attorney would destroy you in court if all you have is evidence of an animal attack.” She doesn’t need to use her ability to know that his resolve is waning, so she does decide to pull Eric in for backup, and she gestures to him. “Eric has power here, as sheriff. He can appeal to the werewolf council, provide them with the evidence. If they determine a crime has been committed, they’ll punish the offending parties themselves.”

“If they determine a crime has been committed?” the detective asks, pointing to the half a body. “I think it’s pretty goddamn clear that’s what happened here.”

“Werewolf law is more eye-for-an-eye than human justice,” Eric explains. “If they can defend the killing because she eliminated one of their own, everyone involved just moves on.”

“And as for getting answers for her family,” Cam adds, stepping back in, “believe me, they already know. I’d guess they already found the other half of her body, and they’ll take it up with the council too.”

Graham exhales, raises his eyes to the sky, and then drops them back to Cam’s face.

“You know a lot about werewolves for a big-city lawyer,” he says eventually, and then he looks to Eric and back to the victim. “I’m going to run those samples, and if you’re right, we’ll rule it an animal attack. I’ll keep you updated, Mr. Northman,” he says, reaching out a hand, and the two of them shake before parting. “And I appreciate your expertise, Ms. Reyes, even if I’m not too fond of the outcome.” He reaches a hand out for her as well, and she shakes it before watching him walk back to the bank of squad cars across the clearing.

Eric reaches out to touch Cam’s shoulder, and they turn, start walking back the way she came.

“Well done,” he tells her as they traipse through the underbrush. She looks up at him through the corner of her eye.

“Thanks… although, I know you were testing me,” she says. Eric hums, a thoughtful noise, and nods his head.

“I figured you’d catch on to that. I need to know I can count on you,” he admits, reaching out to lift a low-hanging branch so it doesn’t smack her in the face. “And because it seems that this area is in the middle of some kind of lycanthropic territory dispute, I wanted to see what you knew about creatures other than vampires.”

“That’s fair, I guess,” she acquiesces, taking the path in front of them. “For the record, I’ve dealt with vampires, werewolves, witches, shifters, druids, fairies… anything else we run across, you’ll have to give me the CliffsNotes version.”

Eric pauses and looks over at her, and she stops too, nearly holding in her breath; having his full attention on her, even in the dark, makes her head buzz and her stomach flip. She wets her lips.

“I’m not familiar with Cliff,” he says after a moment of scrutinizing her face, “but I am happy to give you anything you need.”

#eric northman #true blood #eric northman fanfic #true blood fanfic #eric northman x ofc #eric northman x female reader

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new-revenant · 4 months

Note

Ghost-ish for the WIP ask game

oh this one is pretty interesting looking back on it. The title is based on the sone “God-ish,” and I named it and all the chapter titles that way because I was listening to Trickle, a cover artist, quite a lot. Still do now, although he unfortunately took the God-ish cover down :(. Anyways, here are some snippets of the fic! It’s about the Fentons going to Gotham, stuff happens.

Here’s the funniest part of Chapter 1, To Prepare and to Go to Gotham City(only chapter not based on a song):

“But-but what about Batman?” Jazz stammered. Everyone looked at her quizzically. “You know, I don’t think he’ll like some random ghost hunters shooting bazookas-“ she side eyed Sam, who was currently giving Tucker a Fenton Bazooka, “-in, or near Gotham City, don’t you think? We could end up wanted by the Justice League!”

“You’re right Jazzy-pants,” Jack put his hand on her shoulder, “So get your goggles everyone, we’re going vigilante!” Everyone now looked at Jack, absolutely bewildered.

“Jack, how did you come to the conclusion tha-Danny!” Maddie tried to reason with Jack while Danny rushed out of the vehicle. Sam put on a spare pair of goggles that was just lying around as she and Tucker followed him.

“YOU PICKED THE WORST PEOPLE TO MESS WITH GHOST FU-“ Danny yelled, rushing to the front of the GAV, facing the ghost before tripping on his cloak and falling onto his face.

Part of Chapter 3, Trickle Down, Ghost Town(I didn’t write chapter 2 lol):

“Jason, why are trying to put five people into a dumpster?” Tim sighed. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, cackled.

“Oh, they’re all from rival gangs that hate each other, and I’m thinking that if I put their unconscious bodies in a locked dumpster they’ll all blame each other’s gangs and start a gang war,” Jason explained, putting in the third body inside the dumpster.

Tim groaned, “And then you’ll swoop in and defeat them all, right? This is the most…creative idea you’ve had so far, I’ll give you that.”

“Yep, but I’ll only take out their leaders, so you don’t have worry about a thing,” Jason patted Tim’s head before setting out to chain up the dumpster.

“You know what? I highly doubt that. At least you haven’t killed anyone yet.”

“I haven’t killed anyone that you know of,” Jason joked as he finished putting on an absurd amount of locks on the chains, then kicked the dumpster and clasped his hands, “Anyways, I’m going to go raid a storage area that I’m pretty sure some of the Joker’s goons are in, you coming?”

“You already know that I’m going along with you, whether you like it or not.”

“Thanks for being my babysitter for what, the third time this week?”

“Well it’s less than last week!” Tim laughed and punched Jason in the arm, “Now let’s go beat up some goons!”

And the only stuff I wrote for Chapter 5:

“So, er uh, Danny, right? What made you think I was a Ghost?” It was a simple question, really. Jason thought-if just for a moment-that he would get a simple answer.

To his credit, the answer was simple. It simply led to many more questions.

“Well, I can sense ghosts, and I sensed you,” Danny said with a steady tone, kicking his feet from the chair that was just a bit too tall for him.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #revenant prompted #anon ask #ask game #dpxdc fanfic #I do like the first chapter but I don’t really know how to continue this story haha #it was mainly a bunch of jumbled up ideas I put into one fic

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silly-thinkings · 1 year

Text

AGFC pt.5

A/n: Last chapter for now. I'm happy with this kind of conclusion. I've been feeling a bit down lately with my writing. like... insecure about it. I have all these W.I.Ps and Ideas but I don't think I got that oomph that I had when I started this blog ya know. If Im going to continue this series then it'll probably follow Young Justice season 3. Maybe Y/n will make an appearance in season 2 with Kaldure ya know. Anyway! Enjoy, let me know what you think :) Stay hydrated! Drink water plz

Y/n knew Jason was dead. It didn’t matter how fast her father was on his batmobile. She did the math, he won’t get there in time. Y/n sat in an isolated room, no different from the one Clark had put her in all those years ago. Except this time she was in the bat cave. She scratched at her inhibitor collar as she reflected on all the memories that Megan had stolen from her. No wonder Lex was after her, she was talented. Her fighting style was unmatched. With the right pressure points her opponent can lose control of their arm. A simple tap on a nerve and they’re out of the fight. Suddenly the door opened revealing Alfred holding on to a tray of cookies. A dry laugh escaped the girl before she turned her body to face away from the butler.

“Lady Y/n-”

“Bruce will be mad at you if you’re here. He might disown you Alfie.”

Alfred closed his eyes. It pained him to see her like this. He placed the tray down and took a seat behind her. She felt his presence, but more importantly she felt a slight draft coming into her cell.

“I’ll speak to Bruce about this. Y/n understand that you are an amazing girl. Capable of so much good in the world.”

Now y/n felt tears swell her eyes “I’m a weapon Alfred. Do you think someone dressed like this saves people? Ha! And what of that Martian girl. She gets a slap on the wrist for messing with our memories.”

Alfred was about to say something but The sound of Tim’s voice echoed in the cave.

“Bruce said not to talk to her till he got back.”

That finally set her off. Y/n closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was going to save Jason. Then she’ll run away. Forget this family. Forget everyone!

Y/n quickly stood and Jammed two fingers along Alfred’s shoulders stunning the man. She then applied pressure to other parts of his back and arms successfully subduing him. Alfred fell to the floor as numbness seeped throughout his body. he looked back in shock as Y/n grabbed a cookie that had fallen and fled the cell. But she wasn’t in the clear yet. She needed to get the inhibitor color off. Tim took a stance infront of where the key cards were held.

“You’re not getting pass me Y/n”

Tim didn’t expect her to move so fast. He was able to block and evade some of her moves but as soon as she applied pressure on his calves he fell over.

“Pressure points works wonders when your facing an opponent bigger than you Timmy.” Y/n successfully knocked the teen out. She reached for the keycard and removed the collor. In an instant her powers returned.

“Don’t miss y/n please.”

Y/n flew to the door, looking down at the only man who showed up to all her events. Who fed her, to took care of her with all his heart. “I’m sorry Alfred. Goodbye.”

***

Y/n couldn’t believe she actually made it. Her flight was slow but by pushing her feet against the air using her strength she was able to speed as fast as she ever could. It created a popping sound with every step, greatly satisfying her. Y/n broke into the safe house. Jason layed limp on the floor, y/n heard the sound of ticking. She frantically looked for the bomb.

“N-no time” Jason gasped for air, he didn’t know who was there to save him but he’s sure glad they’re here.

Y/n seemingly ignored his cry and continued searching. She was good at disarming bombes. Y/n confidently pulled out the bomb and clipped the right wire successfully stopping the threat. The girl laughed, she did it. She saved her brother. Y/n flew to Jason and grabbed under his arms. “Sorry Jay. I don’t know how to carry you properly. But I disarmed the bomb so we’re good.”

Y/n felt Jason’s body relax slightly as she dragged him out the door. It was then that she heard another beeping sound. Then another. Panicked she followed them to the walls of the shed. There were more. Was the bomb a trap?

Tick

Tok

Tik tik tok tik

“Y/n? What’s wrong.” Jason attempted to sit up but his broken bones sent pain throughout his body.”

“No. This wasn’t suppose to happen I. There’s more bombs. I can’t disarm them all. I… what.”

Y/n felt dizzy as the flush of sounds overwhelmed her again. Seemingly from every angle in the world. Jason crawled towards his younger sister. He accepted his fate but she gave him hope. Here he was thinking he was a failure. The motion happened so quick y/n cradled herself into a ball again pressing her ears together. She felt Jason enveloping her in a hug. “I got ya kid.”

*Boom*

~~~

Y/n fluttered her eyes open. Snow fell from the sky. A mixture of white with black soot fell atop her nose.

Thump-thump

She heard the sound of a drum. When she tried to get up she noticed an arm over her.

Thump…. Thump.

No. It wasn’t a drum it was a heartbeat. Y/n frantically got to her knees to look down at her Brother. His mask and costume ripped. She herself felt pain along the side on her body. But no injury could amount to what she was facing.

“No… no no Jason no hang on. I’ll get help. I’ll find dad. I- I can still-“

Thump

“You- so cool-“ Jason attempted to smile. There was nothing she could do. It pained him to leave her like this. Y/n placed both of her hands on her face. Then to his chest. She can hear every pop and crackle from his broken bones.

Thump

…..

“Jay…. Speak to me. Please.”

Y/n didn’t scream. She was tired of that. Jason probably wouldn’t want that. She hugged her brother as the sobs grew louder. This wasn’t suppose to happen. She was suppose to prove to everyone that she was capable of being a hero. How could she explain this to Bruce? What would Connor think?

“What have you done?”

The dark knights deep voice made y/n freeze. She looked up, she felt tiny when looking at her armored father “He… protected me. I tried to save him I… I tried to-“

“What you did is got him KILLED Y/n!”

Y/n flinched. He never raised his voice like this.

Bruce realized his mistake. He walked towards them but Y/n frantically shuffled back. Just like she did Clark.

“You think I killed him? Ha…hahaha”

0 hours till Y/n Wayne Broke.

Y/n pressed her hands over her eyes “where were you! WHERE ARE YOU WHEN WE NEED YOU.” She looked up to see Bruce walking away with Jason. Not looking back at her at all “You never show up. And when you do YOUR LATE.”

Bruce turned to see y/n roll frantically on the grounds. Her laughter and pained screams haunted him.

“We’re just your solders. That’s why Dick left.” Y/n felt a different kind of pressure well up in her eyes. She looked to the sky and saw red.

Bruce watched as y/n shot lasers out of her eyes. He closed his eyes

“I’m sorry” he whispered. Bruce left with Jason, his priorities shifting.

Y/n heard him but she didn’t care. For a being who hears everything, that comment fell on deaf ears. For the first time she was alone. Was she free? She didn’t know. Y/n closed her eyes. She rose from the ground like a ghost and flew to the only person who’d maybe treat her fine.

***

Lex finished his nightly skin care routine. Feeling refreshed and ready for the day. What he didn’t expect was to find Y/n floating behind him. He let out a squeal before realizing it was the clone. Her eyes shut. Outfit ripped and burned. Blood dripping from her side as impailed glass seemingly pulsaded from her.

“You said I was a weapon they feared.” She said in a low tone.

She was broken. Lex smiled, he didn’t think it would work that fast. What must’ve happened to have this girl seek comfort from him of all people. Lex opened his arm.

“Come child. Together we can show them.”

Y/n slowly flew into his arms. No tears left to shed. Drifting off to sleep.

Epilogue

Bruce returned to the cave with Jason in his arms. His shoulders felt heavy, he’d failed his children like never before. Alfred quickly ran to his side but no words were exchanged. Bruce looked up at the butler, the pain in his eyes was severe.

The sound of the zeta tube chimed. Connor practically ran through with Tim close behind.

“I tried to stop him but-“

Both boys saw Jason. Connor noticed the lack of his sister.

“Where is she? What happened?”

Tim began shaking his head as he fell to the ground. Impossible she’s half Kryptonian. Alfred frowned aswell.

Connor clenched his fists “BRUCE! Where is my sister.” He too had time to reflect on his stolen memories, and he felt stupid. How didn’t he know she did something to them.

“I’m sorry… she’s gone.”

Alfred covered his mouth. Guilt began to sink in.

“N-no… no.” Connor fell to his knees.

On that day, Two members of the bat family were declared dead.

#dc fanfic #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #connor kent #young justice #clark kent x daughter reader #jason todd #young justice fanfiction #batsis angst

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teaberrii · 11 months

Text

Chapter 5: City Meets Country

After ending a five-year relationship, you pour all your energy into work. Your latest assignment? Staying at a popular bed-and-breakfast to gather information. It should be a piece of cake... If only the owner isn't the man you scolded on the street.

Jing Yuan/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

"...Pretending to date, you say?” The woman sitting across from the detective looked him in the eyes. “What a bold move you’re suggesting, Detective.”

“It’s just empty words that’ll get you an invitation. You want to prove your innocence, don’t you?”

“Is this your sense of justice talking, or…” There was a curious glint in her eyes. “...Are your personal feelings getting the best of you?”

The detective quietly scoffed. “I am here to do a job. They say you’re guilty, but you say you’re innocent. We need more evidence.”

“...Innocent until proven guilty, is that it?”

“It’s what I’d like to live by.”

A loud honk makes Welt stop. He quickly takes a step back upon seeing the red stoplight. He’d been so engrossed in thinking about his book’s latest scene that he almost walked onto a busy street. He didn’t know why, but since he saw you and Jing Yuan walk into the stone villa, Welt was hit with an idea. And, throughout his walk, he’s been fleshing out the details.

When Welt woke up this morning, Dan Heng was reading on the couch while Dan Feng was on the balcony, enjoying the fresh morning air. As soon as he stepped inside, Welt asked, “March still isn’t up?”

“She wasn’t in her room,” Dan Feng said. “Texted her a bunch of times, and she said she’s on her way back.” He looked at his watch. “She should be back in… 3… 2… 1…”

The door opened, and March walked inside. “You’ll never guess who I bumped into!”

As she said she’d met you and Jing Yuan at the pool, Welt's phone buzzed with a message.

Can you get it done in the next two months?

Welt’s shoulders fell upon reading the message from his editor.

“Welt?” Welt looked up and saw his friends looking at him. March glanced at his phone. “Something wrong?”

“No. Just some spam text,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

The light turns green, and as he crosses the street, he thinks back to the text. It’s been a few years since he changed from writing non-fiction to fiction, and it’s been a bumpy adventure. While he’d built a reputation writing non-fiction, writing fiction proved to be a challenge. There's no right or wrong in creativity or imagination, something that Welt finds exciting and frustrating. And while his book sales have marginally improved since he first started, it still feels like he's looking into a dark tunnel, one where no one has a solid answer of where to go. They just push him for deadlines. Can he outdo his last book? Will he succeed? Maybe his creativity just doesn't resonate with the market as much as he'd like.

He walks past a train station and sees you talking with a few tourists. By the time he walks up to you, the tourists are already leaving, and he can see the gears turning in your head.

“Hey.” You look up, surprised. He looks at the foreign tourists and back at you. “Were they asking for directions?”

“Nah. I was doing some research.”

“Research? Does that involve talking to random people?"

“Kind of. Sort of. Not really.”

“Well, I’d be interested in hearing more.”

As you and Welt walk down the street together, you tell him about the reason you're here. But so far, you’re still coming up a little empty.

“Some tourists have been wishing for more hotels,” you say. “It’s strange.”

“It's a good question, and it’s something I noticed, too.”

“Sounds like you have insights to share.”

“Nothing that I think would be useful,” Welt says with a sheepish grin. “You know who you should talk to?” The little smile on his face gives you a hunch. “Jing Yuan.”

And you’re right.

“...Because he grew up here?”

“That’s right. There’s no one better to ask.”

Well, you might as well make the most of his fake boyfriend status. But…

“How long have you known Jing Yuan?” you ask.

“We met when he was still getting the B&B off the ground. So, it’s been about eight years? But, the funny thing is, we went to the same grad school, and we never knew.”

Grad school… Now, you’re curious. What did Jing Yuan study? Was he already thinking about opening a bed and breakfast? Was he already married?

“Both of us were there on a scholarship,” Welt continues. “I don’t know if you know but he was a corporate guy before he started this business. Director of Operations at an IT company.”

“...I don’t know if I should call him crazy for leaving a cushy job or…”

“...Or admire him for his courage?”

“I think both.”

“They say crazy people create history.”

You remember Jing Yuan’s bold move to kiss your cheek. “...He truly is a man full of surprises.”

Welt chuckles. “Sounds like someone’s fond of him now.”

“That’s—”

A loud sob interrupts you, and then, “Yanqing hit me!”

You and Welt stop and look at each other upon hearing the familiar name. To your left, there’s an elementary school. Without thinking, you and Welt enter the front courtyard, and you see a small group of kids gathering around Yanqing and a young girl about his age. Her long white hair is in a ponytail, and her reddish-pink eyes look anxious and scared. Yanqing is standing in front of her but he’s facing a larger boy who’s crying.

“What’s going on?” a woman walks towards the children and the larger boy runs to her.

“Yanqing hit me!” he cries.

“I…” When Yanqing looks off to the side, he gasps. “Auntie! Welt!”

The woman looks at you just as you and Welt come up beside Yanqing. "And you are...?"

Before you can answer, the boy frowns and glares at you. "Yanqing should apologize!"

Ignoring him, you put a hand on Yanqing's shoulder. "Do you want to tell us what happened?”

“...He was bullying Clara.”

“Is that true, Clara?” the woman asks, looking at the girl behind Yanqing.

“I didn’t say anything wrong!” the boy insists.

"You were making fun of her!" You hold Yanqing's hand, and his shoulders slowly fall when he looks at you. "...I'm not a bad person."

You affectionately pat his head while the woman says, “Let’s go inside, shall we?” Then, she looks at you. “Are you his aunt?”

You and Welt glance at each other. “Um, well—”

“Yes,” Yanqing answers, and you look at him. Then, quietly, “...I don’t want Dad to get called in when he’s so busy.”

The woman leads all of you inside the school and into the empty classroom, away from the prying eyes of the other kids.

“...Clara, do you want to tell us what happened?” the woman asks.

Clara is fidgeting when she looks down. “...Yanqing didn’t hit him.” You see the intimidating gaze of the boy. So, you stand in front of him, blocking her from seeing him. “...But, he did push him.”

“See!” The boy steps in front of you.

Welt frowns. “Let her finish.”

Clara looks at the boy and says, “But it was because he was bothering me.”

“What did he say?” the woman asks.

“I didn’t—”

You shoot him a look, and the boy crosses his arms.

Clara was building a sandcastle in the sandpit when she felt someone behind her. She turned and saw a larger boy who was looking at her with a curious but distasteful look.

“Is it true that you have two moms and no dad?” Feeling uncomfortable, Clara stood, but before she could walk away, he quickly blocked her path. “It’s just a question.”

“...Leave me alone.”

The boy frowned. “What? Are you embarrassed because it’s true?” Yanqing, who was walking by to play on the swings, overheard the question. “Who’s your dad?”

“I don’t have one,” Clara said quietly.

“What? I couldn’t hear you.”

Yanqing stopped, noticing how uncomfortable Clara looked. Then, he looked at the boy. “Stop bugging her.”

He glared at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Yanqing glared back. “She’s uncomfortable!”

“I was just asking her a question.”

Yanqing walked toward Clara and extended his hand. “Let’s go play on the swings.”

“Hey!” The boy rudely forced Yanqing to look at him, and Yanqing acted on instinct.

Soon, the boy was on the ground, his palm scratched by the concrete.

The woman sighs. “Apologize to Clara.”

“Why?” he challenges. “It’s not like I did anything wrong.”

“But you did,” you say, frowning. “You made her feel uncomfortable.”

“Who asked you, old woman?”

Before you can say anything, the woman sternly says the boy’s name. “Apologize. Or, I’m calling your parents.”

The boy mutters, “Sorry,” without looking at you or Clara.

Once that's over and done with, you and Welt strike up a conversation with the woman who you now know as Yanqing's teacher. Turns out Yanqing's taking summer classes at the same elementary school Jing Yuan once went to.

By the time you and Welt are ready to leave, a loud bell rings throughout the school, signalling the end of recess. The kids are filing in and heading toward their respective classrooms. You and Welt are standing outside the staff room with Yanqing and Clara.

The young girl shyly looks at Yanqing and says, “Um… Thank you for what you did.”

“We’re similar, so… I can kinda understand how you feel,” Yanqing says with a smile.

“Similar…? Ah…!” You can see the lightbulb in her head go off. “You’re the one with two dads…”

“It’s a good thing!” Yanqing has his fists clenched in front of him as if eager to communicate his point. Then, with a soft smile, he says, “It doesn’t matter as long as they care about you.”

“Yanqing! Clara! Time for class!”

Clara is the first to leave, though it looks like she wants to wait for Yanqing. But, he turns to you and Welt and makes a gesture for you to crouch.

“...Could you keep what happened today a secret?” he asks quietly. A sigh. “I know pushing is wrong…”

“You just don’t want Jing Yuan to lecture you,” Welt says.

“Maybe…”

“I don’t think you should keep it from him,” you say. "But… I know you feel uncomfortable. So, I’ll keep your secret.”

“Really?” Yanqing’s eyes are shining.

“He’ll find out either way,” Welt says. “Jing Yuan's quite perceptive.”

The boy’s shoulders fall, but before he can say anything else, you see the teacher peek out from the classroom.

“Go to class,” you say. "We won't say anything."

Yanqing pouts but gives you and Welt a quick hug, and then he runs off toward his classroom.

◆◆◆

“Yo.” Jing Yuan is on his lunch break in the restaurant downstairs of the stone villa when he hears a familiar voice. Dan Feng pulls out the chair in front of Jing Yuan and jokingly asks, “Seat taken?”

“You’re alone?”

“March ditched us. As for Dan Heng”—Dan Feng rolls his eyes—“he wants to relax and spend his time reading today.”

“And Welt?”

“Can’t reach him. He’s been gone for a while. But—”

The buzz of his phone interrupts him. Once he pulls it out of his pocket, Dan Feng chuckles. “Well, speak of the devil.”

Jing Yuan takes another bite of his noodles just as Dan Feng says your name, making Jing Yuan look up. “They’re together." Jing Yuan almost chokes and quickly leans back to compose himself. Dan Feng laughs. “They bumped into each other in town. That’s what I meant.”

A small cough. “I see.”

Dan Feng puts an elbow on the table and slightly leans closer. “What’s your relationship with her, anyway? What were you two talking about earlier today?”

“Someone’s curious,” Jing Yuan deadpans.

“Well, yeah! Is she a friend…? Or…?”

“Yes.” A small pause. “...And I’m helping her with some things.”

“...Some things? Like what?” When Jing Yuan goes back to eating, Dan Feng rolls his eyes. “What’s with the secrecy?”

Jing Yuan wipes his mouth with a napkin and puts it neatly to the side. Then, he puts his arms on the table. “Why are you so curious about her?”

“Because it looks like you’re interested in her, and it’s been a while since you showed interest in anyone. So, of course, I’m curious!” Dan Feng gently taps his phone on the table. “Plus, she’s kinda cute, too.”

Jing Yuan thinks back to when he first saw you protecting his cousin. He found you frustrating, even more so when you took his phone and demanded him to pay for the spoiled cake. But that was when he got a good look at you. Was it inappropriate that he found you physically attractive?

He never expected to meet you again at the restaurant that night.

The look on your face told him that something was weighing you down, which he later concluded was your ex. Jing Yuan thought about interfering when he saw your ex preventing you from closing the taxi door. But he weighed his options and decided to wait and see. Then, when he saw that look of exhaustion on your face in the taxi, it was like looking into a mirror.

He saw his old self.

“A bed and breakfast?”

Jing Yuan and his wife were sitting at the table for dinner that evening when he brought up the dream he’d had since graduate school. He’d never spoken about it to anyone, even his wife whom he’d known since college. This was his little secret, something personal that he didn’t want to share until he was sure he wanted to go through with it. And, after countless weeks of thinking, he didn’t want any regrets.

“Xianzhou’s been budding as a popular tourist destination,” Jing Yuan said. “...It would be great to go back and—”

“...But, there’s nothing there.” Jing Yuan–chopsticks in hand—was reaching for some food on a plate. But, he stopped and looked at his wife with mild confusion. “Don’t get me wrong, Jing Yuan. Xianzhou is beautiful, but… there’s really nothing there. No technological advancements. No flourishing economy… Why would you want to go back?”

Should Jing Yuan be surprised? Probably not. His wife had grown up in the city; she was a city girl who never showed any interest in the countryside besides a vacation to escape the busy city life. But living there? Out of the question. Jing Yuan should’ve known.

Jing Yuan put his chopsticks down. “I grew up there, and… I’ve always wanted to start a business.”

She put her hand on top of his. “...But, didn’t you promise me we’d be starting a family? Don’t tell me you’re going to run off and start your little business and leave me to take care of the baby.”

“No. Of course not. That’s not what—”

“You just got promoted too.” She sighed. “Let’s stick to what we planned.”

Jing Yuan knew his wife would be against the idea, but he’d been hoping for open communication. Instead, she wasn’t even looking at him anymore but at an article on her phone about preparing for your first baby.

And that was just the beginning.

“Hey.” Dan Feng taps the table. “You listening?”

Jing Yuan’s phone buzzes, and he quickly takes it out. After taking a glance at the work email, he slides it back into his pocket. Then, he looks at his friend and says, “It’s true I’m interested in her.”

Dan Feng lets out a low whistle. “Haven’t heard you been this direct in a while either. Kinda refreshing, if you ask me.”

“...But, we’ll see how things turn out.”

Dan Feng slowly nods as Jing Yuan finishes the rest of his food. “Keeping a level head as you pursue her, huh? A logical approach, as expected.”

Jing Yuan isn’t playing around, but he hasn't forgotten the pain of a broken heart. You’re a city girl, much like his ex-wife. Plus, he has Yanqing. That’s when it hits him. It’s been too long since he felt his heart race for somebody. He isn't thinking, and if not for this conversation with Dan Feng, he would not have realized that his head is off in the clouds.

“Oh, hey." Just as Jing Yuan neatly puts his chopsticks on top of his bowl, Dan Feng says, "Before you leave for your big boy meeting... We’re having a BBQ party tonight. If you’re not busy, come join us.” Then, with a little smile, he adds, “We’ll be sure to invite her, too.”

◆◆◆

You and Welt end up parting ways. With you looking to get more information, Welt had gone back to the bed and breakfast first.

“Hotels? Why would we want more of that here?”

That isn’t the response you’re expecting. You manage to strike up a conversation with some of the locals after ordering some food from a popular food stand. They are women in their forties or early fifties who run small businesses nearby.

“Seriously,” one of them says with an exasperated sigh. “All corporate people want to do is come in and control everything! If we let them in, they’ll be putting us out of business!”

“Right! Just like those punks a few years ago.”

Punks?

The women look at you. “Why are you asking such strange questions? Are you one of them?”

“Them? No, nothing like that,” you answer, even though you have no idea who they’re talking about. “I was just curious as it’s my first time here.”

A woman sighs. “We only need family businesses here. All of them corporate people and whatnot can stay the hell away.”

You know better than to generalize the opinion of just two locals, but the animosity is unexpectedly strong.

You’re mulling over the interesting thought when someone says, “Bar Girl?”

You recognize the voice. When you turn, Blade and Luocha are walking towards you.

“It’s not Bar Girl,” Blade corrects his friend as the men stop in front of you. “Jing Yuan calls her Corporal.”

“Corporal…? Huh… Thought he’d go with Sweetheart like he does everyone else.”

Everyone else…? It’s somewhat of a petty thought, but does Jing Yuan call every girl Sweetheart?

Luocha sticks out his hand. “I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce myself last time. I’m Luocha, and I’m a physician here.”

“You’re a local?” you ask, surprised.

A small chuckle. “Born and raised. What? Do I look more like a city boy to you?” He nods toward a street. “I run a clinic just at the end here.”

You take his hand. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“I hear you’re staying at Jing Yuan’s B&B,” he says with a small smile. “How’s that going?”

“Am I supposed to say I hate it?” you ask sarcastically.

“We can keep a secret.” Luocha nudges Blade. “Right?”

“This is Jing Yuan we’re talking about,” Blade says. “There’s no way he’ll provide anything less than excellence.”

“That’s quite a statement,” you say. “...But, so far… it is true.”

“Soundin’ a little glum, chum.”

“You’re thinking too much, Doc—ah!”

You almost stumble when someone pushes you while wrapping their arm around your shoulder. You aren't sure who to expect, but surely not March smiling at you.

“How’d you like the view this morning?” she asks.

“...View?”

She lightly pinches your cheek. “The view of a half-naked Jing Yuan.” Blade and Luocha glance at each other before looking at you as if looking for an explanation. March turns to them. “Jing Yuan graced us with his presence at the pool earlier today.”

“Sounds like a great time,” Luocha deadpans.

“You wish you were half the man he is.”

Luocha scoffs and puts a hand on his hip. “Someone sure is more talkative than usual.”

As March lets you go and continues bickering with Luocha, Blade sighs. “Here we go again.”

“Looks like all of you are close.”

“Close? I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“My, I wasn’t expecting to see so many familiar faces.”

March and Luocha stop bickering at the sound of a woman’s voice. You look past them and see a tall, slender woman with pale hair and red eyes. There’s an elegance in the way that she walks that tells you she’s a no-nonsense woman.

Then, you hear Blade say a name, one that you don’t recognize. But it’s what he says after that takes you off guard.

“...That’s Jing Yuan’s mentor.”

Chapter 6

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @immahuman @queencybow @grimreapersscythe @nqctre @winterpein

#jingyuan x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan #jingyuan x you

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sowoozoo-7 · 1 year

Text

Love, Lust & Litigation | Interlude - NYE (Namjoon POV)

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader x Namjoon

Genre: lawyer!AU, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

Rating: M (18+) whole fic, this chapter PG-13 (for language)

Warnings: some swearing in this chapter, nothing explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Unfortunately, you have developed a massive crush on your new boss. Even more unfortunately, your equally attractive coworker is also harboring massive crush on your boss. AKA Jungkook and reader both pine for big, sexy brain Namjoon.

A/N: It's been a long time coming but here she is! The next installment of LL&L! This takes place in the middle of Chapter 5. More about it in the A/N at the end. Thanks for all your patience as I got over a bit of writer's block (and writer's unmotivation lmao). This is my first time writing a member's POV, so hopefully I did it justice!

As always, I’d love feedback if you have any! Enjoy ~

mlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | interlude | ch 6

Namjoon Kim doesn’t make New Year’s resolutions.

It’s a stupid concept, in his humble opinion. Not only is it an arbitrary date to make a change, most people spend the first day of the new year recovering from the night before. Can anyone really make any progress toward their goals while nursing a massive hangover?

No. If Namjoon wants to make a change, he’ll just do it. He won’t wait until Monday, or to the first of the month. He'll just do it.

Of course, if anyone asks if he’s made any resolutions, he’ll just smile and say “Oh, you know, the usual,” or some other noncommittal answer. His coworkers don’t need to know he thinks it’s a stupid concept. He hasn’t gotten to where he is today by ranting about the uselessness of New Year’s resolutions.

This year, though, this year might be different.

He arrives late to Jimin’s New Year’s Eve party. Everyone at Jimin's fancy high-rise apartment is past buzzed and barreling toward black-out drunk, and here he is, newly arrived and sober.

Before he can go in search of alcohol, Jimin finds him.

“You’re late! Why are you late? It’s New Year’s Eve!”

Some urgent thing at work kept him there. It seemed life-changing and super important in the moment, but as Namjoon opens his mouth to answer, for the life of him, he can’t remember exactly what it was.

Jimin flaps his hand as if to wave the question out of the air before Namjoon can think of anything to say.

“Whatever. The more important issue is, you’re not sparkling!”

The theme for the party is “Sparkle or Bust,” in reference to both drinks and outfits. Namjoon doesn’t make a habit of keeping spare sequined shirts in his office, so he’s in one of his work suits, sans tie and jacket.

Several hours’ worth of alcohol dulls Jimin’s outrage at Namjoon’s failure to follow the theme and he hands Namjoon a bedazzled NYE tiara and a glass of champagne without further berating.

“There. Much better.”

Jimin leaves as suddenly as he arrived.

Namjoon stays on the periphery of the party, sipping on the champagne. He recognizes people from work and some of Jimin’s friends he’s met in the past, but they’re all involved in their own conversations.

His gaze wanders from person to person, wondering if any of them made resolutions, if they’ve ever kept them. If anything has ever changed—actually changed—by making a resolution for the new year.

If it’s even worth it to hope for a change.

He keeps looking and his eyes catch on a familiar figure across the room. Jungkook, wearing a ridiculous, shiny blazer that he has no business looking so good in. Namjoon’s stomach does a little flip as he notices, not for the first time, how Jungkook’s shoulders fill out the blazer, broad and strong. He’s talking with Taehyung, Jimin’s roommate, a tall eccentric whose family owns half the city.

The crowd shifts, and Namjoon’s stomach flips again when he catches sight of you, looking increasingly irritated at the conversation between the two men. Now you’re rolling your eyes, annoyed at something they’ve said.

Namjoon’s eyes follow you as you yank the sliding glass doors to the balcony open. Before he knows it, he’s making his way to the door, murmuring his apologies as he tries not to bulldoze his coworkers out of the way.

Before Namjoon can reach the door, Jungkook is already there, round eyes apologetic and pleading as he slips out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him. Namjoon stops in the middle of the crowd.

He’s too late.

Again.

He tips the contents of his champagne glass down his throat. It’s not enough to quiet the self-loathing, but enough to carry him to the glass door and peer out onto the balcony.

You’re looking up at Jungkook, something like disappointment on your face. He has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing the bare skin to warm you up in the cold. Your expression softens. You’re forgiving him for whatever transgression he has committed.

An ugly roil of feelings churns in Namjoon’s gut, a mix of jealousy, envy, and longing he doesn’t want to untangle.

Regret, though, is what he feels the most. There were so many moments when he could have done something, anything, when he could have made his feelings clear to either, both of you.

Yoongi pushed him to do something, to say something. Of course he did, what else are best friends for? But even though Namjoon saw want clearly written in Jungkook’s eyes, time and time again, he hesitated. Every time they touched, whether in passing in the office, or when they were working out together, Namjoon was so careful, so careful to not let his hands linger, even though all he wanted to do was feel the planes of Jungkook’s body against his, strong and muscular. Because it was inappropriate, because of Namjoon’s position, because he was Jungkook’s mentor.

And then you showed up, beautiful, confident. Every time you won a case, you lit up the room, radiant, victorious. And all Namjoon wanted to do was crowd you against the elevator walls as you headed back to the office together. He wanted to know if you were as soft and pliable out of your clothes as you were hard and unyielding in the courtroom. Yoongi had more to say every time you and Namjoon were in his restaurant. But again Namjoon hesitated.

And he was too late. All he has left is regret and unrelenting visions of both of you, soft and hard, next to him, on top and below him, wanting nothing more than the all-encompassing press of warm skin against skin.

A loud bang pulls him back to the party. One of the ladies from IT tripped into the glass door beside Namjoon. He reaches out to steady her, his hand on her elbow. She blushes when Namjoon smiles at her, and she laughs it off, embarrassed.

By the time he turns back to glance out to the balcony, Jungkook has you wrapped up in his blazer and you’re both facing out to the city.

Someone claps him on the shoulder, and he looks back to see Taehyung. “You look like you need something stronger than champagne.”

A karaoke machine appears sometime before midnight.

Namjoon has officially joined the ranks of the well and truly sloshed. Taehyung took him to the large pantry behind the kitchen, where Jimin had stashed the good bottles of whisky behind boxes of cereal, and he has gone back several times for a refill.

He doesn’t let himself get this drunk, not usually. He’s so careful, always so fucking careful, about how he’s perceived, about what he’s expected to do, how he’s supposed to act, as an adult, as a manager, as the hotshot lawyer people think he is. But the whisky warms his stomach tonight and blurs the edges of the sharp feelings deep in the pit of his stomach.

Whoever is screeching at the karaoke machine needs to stop. He feels it in the base of his skull and it’s making the night all the more unpleasant than it already is. He can tell them off, of course he can. He’s the head of Litigation.

He stumbles his way into the living room to make the horrible noise stop, but the song ends before he can get across the room. Thank god. He’s about to turn back to the kitchen to top up his glass when an angelic voice comes through the speakers.

It takes a few blinks to focus his eyes. He eventually sees across the room that Jungkook has taken the mic, with Taehyung’s arms slung around his shoulders.

They’re swaying as Jungkook sings “Leave The Door Open” by Silk Sonic. The rumble of the party quiets down. Someone whoops when he nails a high note.

Namjoon leans back against the wall for support. It’s not the first time he’s heard Jungkook singing. He hums constantly in the office, but it’s only when he’s several drinks in and past the point of self-consciousness that he lets loose and really sings. His eyes are closed, not needing the lyrics, as he belts the song.

A little sigh sounds next to him and he turns to see you, also leaning against the wall. Your eyes are soft for the man across the room, and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Namjoon looks back at Jungkook, and those feelings he was trying to dam with alcohol come rushing back.

“You’re lucky, you know?”

He doesn’t even realize he’s spoken out loud until he hears your voice beside him.

“Lucky?”

Fuck. He has to say something. Clarify? Does he owe that to you?

“Look at him,” he says, gesturing across the room with his glass. “He’s hot and talented and good at his job. Competent people are hard to come by.” Shut up shut up shut up Namjoon, you’re rambling. “You’re competent too.”

“Thanks?”

The song ends and the room cheers for one more. Namjoon keeps his eyes trained across the room as Jungkook queues up another song. He can’t look at you right now. You’re too close.

"Don't be a manager. It's overrated," he says quietly. "Careers don’t fucking matter. You have that freedom still, to do whatever.”

The next song starts, “Falling” by Harry Styles. A shiver runs down Namjoon’s spine as Jungkook starts singing.

“Jesus, just listen to his voice.”

“Boss, are you okay?” you ask, putting your hand on Namjoon’s arm.

He closes his eyes at the touch, and at that fucking nickname. He hates it. Hates his role at work, his chronic overthinking. He fucking despises himself for the person he’s crafted himself to be, hiding behind a job title, too focused on what society tells him is success to chase what he wants now.

He looks at you, finally, to see confusion and concern written all over your face.

“I’m happy for you two.” He can hear the sadness in his own voice and it’s fucking pathetic. He goes to take a sip of his drink, but it’s empty. Again. “I really am. Truly.”

You just look at him like you’re about to say something nice and sweet and heartbreaking. Fuck. He’s gotta get out of here.

In his drunk haze, he doesn’t realize that you don’t follow him to the kitchen.

Karaoke ends with everyone scream-singing some pop-punk song that Namjoon vaguely recognizes.

It’s getting close to midnight anyway, so the party roars back into swing, bass thumping, people dancing in the living room in a crush of bodies.

Namjoon stands against the wall, the empty drink glass in his hand, watching everyone else lose their inhibitions. Even drunk as he is, the vice grip of anxiety keeps him from joining the crowd, from letting loose, and letting his body move to the music.

He spots you and Jungkook in the crowd, your back against his, eyes closed as you dance to the beat, both faces flushed with alcohol. Namjoon waits, anticipating… something. What exactly, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that this picture is incomplete. He sits on the outside, watching the two of you from afar.

Then it hits him. He’s used to it now, like breathing, like the sun rising and setting, your faces turning towards Namjoon like sunflowers face the sun. Always finding him in a room. How many times has he locked eyes from across the room with Jungkook, with you?

And now, you’re not looking at Namjoon. Neither of you are.

As the countdown to midnight starts, Jungkook spins you around to face him. You laugh and join in counting with the crowd.

3…

Namjoon holds his own countdown, waiting for either or both sets of eyes to find him on the edge of the crowd.

2…

Jungkook’s arms wrap around you.

1…

Your fingers tangle in his hair.

Happy New Year!

You’re kissing and laughing, rejoicing in the new year. When Jungkook’s eyes open, they’re trained on your face, and you look back, eyes only for Jungkook.

Something breaks inside Namjoon. He doesn’t even know who his envy is aimed towards. Does he want to be Jungkook, kissing you, or does he want to be in your place, cupping the back of Jungkook’s head?

Things never change on New Year’s Eve, except this year, something has.

He slips out of the party without anyone noticing. The sharp cold brings him back to his senses. Without the party in his head, he can breathe. He can think.

His breath fogs up in the early morning air. Every inhale brings a cold clarity back to him.

He knows what he has to do.

A/N II: This scene was originally meant to take place in the middle of Chapter 5 from reader's POV. The more I worked on it, the more I struggled with it. The whole chapter was dragging and nothing I wrote was working, so I took it out. I think it improved the flow of Ch 5 and helped me finish Ch 5 a bit faster. It's still an important part of the story, and I think it worked better from Namjoon's POV. So before we head to the final couple chapters (!!!!) I really wanted to show how Namjoon's been feeling. (And my brain wouldn't let me work on Ch 6 until I finished this.)

I'm not gonna put a date on the next installment. It's still largely unwritten, but hopefully the momentum from finishing this helps with the draft for Ch 6. Thanks for your patience! Lots of forehead kisses for y'all 💕

#jungkook x you #namjoon x you #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #bts fic #junkook fanfic #namjoon fanfic #fic: love lust & litigation

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