#i swear of the last day is skincare i will scream | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wttcsms · 2 months ago

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if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | TWO

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn’t get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn’t just a pro soccer player, but also your ex’s rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

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pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 5.9k chapter synopsis the busier your schedule, the less time you can spend thinking about rin. the only problem is, you see something you can't unsee. nothing a bottle of tequila can't fix, right? (spoiler: tequila isn't fixing a broken heart) chapter contains partying and drinking to cope, diet culture author’s notes i have nothing to insightful to add rn, but send me any asks discussing this fic and i will have a lot to say LOL

From: [email protected] To: [USER EMAIL HIDDEN] Cc: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected] + 3 others Subject: 6/19 — [NAME] [SURNAME] AGENDA Attachments: 📎 [6.19 AGENDA.pdf]

All —

Attached is the PDF copy of [Name]’s itinerary for today. Reminder that these times are STRICT. Stay on schedule.

Fumiko Gima

Get Outlook for IOS

Your first alarm goes off at 4:50 AM to what you assume is the noise they play on repeat in hell (By the Seaside, an Apple classic). After waking up, you roll over in your king size bed (the problem with always choosing to go big instead of just going home is the fact that when you’re all alone, the luxury of extra space just becomes empty space) to promptly hit the snooze button. You’ll allow yourself five more minutes of sleep (as a treat). When the second alarm you set up goes off at 4:53 AM (By the Seaside, once again), you scream into your pillow, and shut it off for real this time. You knew you weren’t going to give yourself the full five minutes, but it felt really good to trick yourself into believing that you would. You always start the day with this tiny disappointment; that way, no one has the privilege of being the first person to piss you off.

At 4:54 AM, you slide your feet into your Ugg slippers, readjust the loose straps of your silk camisole, and shuffle into your marble-floored bathroom. You rub the sleep from your eyes, brush your teeth with your pink electric toothbrush, and wash your face. By the time you’re done with your morning skincare, it’s 5:06 AM. You honestly can’t remember the last time you did your own makeup, but you bring your makeup bag with you anyway. If there’s downtime between shoots, you’ll post a faux-GRWM TikTok where you apply three miniscule dots of concealer on your seemingly already flawless skin and add a fresh layer of the brand new, limited edition Rhode peptide lip treatment that Hailey Bieber’s team gifted you. They also gave you twenty grand to do so, with a personal “hey girlie, would love to catch up with you one of these days!! life has been so hectic, sorry for not keeping in touch x btw, i just came out with a new shade of my…” text from Hailey herself. (You replied back with a “yessss, we need to meet up soon!! Also, LOVE LOVE LOVE the new shade omg 😍” — neither of you have any intention for planning a meet-up, and you don’t “LOVE LOVE LOVE” the new shade as much as you “LOVE LOVE LOVE” to deposit a fat check.)

You’re sliding into the backseat of the glossy black SUV parked in front of your driveway at 5:14 AM. Your chauffeur, Benji, holds open the door for you.

“Good morning, Ms. [Surname],” Benji never drops the formalities with you, except for when he’s lecturing you. Thank God he doesn’t own a smartphone; if he saw half the things Daily Mail wrote about you, his voice would be gone from scolding you so much. Even if he’s technically on your parents’ payroll and is paid to make sure you get to and from places safely, it still feels nice to have someone who cares about you enough to call you out on your shit.

The first stop is an exclusive, members-only pilates studio. If you’re home, you have to work out in the morning, no matter what. You like your routine. Out of all the things online magazines put out about you, it’s kind of embarrassing how the most accurate one is revealing how you stay “fit ‘n flawless even after going out every night.” Most people didn’t believe it. Rin got it, though. Rin would actually work out with you, when the two of your schedules aligned, and— Time to start your workout early! Nothing takes your mind off of matters more than focusing on the burn of your core and arms.

By the time you finish your private session, you’re walking out the studio with your puffy tote bag slung over your shoulders. Your body is still a bit damp from taking a quick shower but not drying off properly, and Benji drops you off at your first business stop of the day — ELLE Japan.

You smile brightly as the team of makeup artists surrounding you shower you with compliments. One of the girls brushing on your foundation tells you that you have really nice skin. When she goes in for a second layer, you almost consider rescinding the thanks you gave her.

The set is hectic, as expected. No matter how long these people have been in the industry, no matter how big the host is, something always seems to be going wrong. Apparently, there’s been a mishap over in wardrobe, and ELLE’s people are not very happy with how this is going to delay everything. With your hair and makeup done, there’s nothing for you to do besides sit down, be quiet, and look pretty.

Downtime is the last thing you want. You’re used to a busy schedule, but you convinced Fumiko to accept as many projects as possible. If you have to rank at the top of the list for celebrities who emit the most CO2, then so be it. You’ll pollute the whole damn planet if it means you won’t have a single second to be alone with your thoughts.

At 9:00 AM sharp, you go on your phone to inform your manager that the agenda is fucked. ELLE Japan is definitely going to push back this session with you for at least a good hour, which means Fumiko is going to have to explain to Your Style (the YouTube channel name for a famous fashion commentator who’s amassed nearly twenty million subscribers) why you’re going to be late for the Zoom debrief on what you two are going to talk about in an upcoming video. At 9:02 AM, you receive a text.

juli ᡣ𐭩: u know i love u

It’s two in the morning in Paris. When Juliette said she was going to visit her father, she said it was going to be a much-needed vacation — just something chill and lowkey, like going to all the designer stores and eating croissants on a balcony. Those were her exact words.

juli ᡣ𐭩: [photo attachment]

Somehow, from the neon strobe lights, bodies pressed against one another’s, and the way the image is blurry because she couldn’t get her phone to focus, it feels like Juliette’s “something chill and lowkey” morphed into club-hopping all over France. You roll your eyes with affection. You should’ve known her vacation was going to turn into this; as if Juliette would eat bread for pleasure — she’s been quoted for claiming that carbs are a necessary evil. She probably hasn’t even touched a croissant for the past week she’s been there.

juli ᡣ𐭩: showing u before TMZ posts it juli ᡣ𐭩: [video attachment] juli ᡣ𐭩: do not freak out. not worth it. juli ᡣ𐭩: ugh i knew this club sucked ass for a reason

You wait for the video to load. It’s almost as blurry and unfocused as the original image she sent, but you can tell she had to zoom in pretty hard to capture what she wanted. It’s two figures with a minimal amount of space between them. One of them is definitely a girl; she has the build of the usual French models. A thin, leggy brunette who has mastered the intricate art of Just Had Sex hair. Perfectly messy, but could never be considered sloppy. She’s wearing a sparkly, tight minidress. The fabric shimmers when the strobe lights pass by her body. The person she’s practically pressed up against is a man. Tall, lean. He’s leaning down, presumably so he can hear her better. When the video clip ends abruptly (someone bumped into Juliette, and the video ends with shaky footage and a loud “putain!”), you replay it. And replay it. And then you play it again, just for good measure.

Each time you watch the stupid video, you find something new to notice. Her red lips brushing against his ear. The way his hand hovers near her hip. The way you’re certain she’s smiling when she speaks, like the smirk of a victor. The exact same self-satisfied, smug grin you sport whenever you get a guy right where you want him. Upon every rewatch, though, one thing remains the same: you’re constantly fixated on him.

Right now, it’s two in the morning in Paris. You know that when you weren’t in this fucked up headspace you’re in right now, you’d be in bed, snuggled underneath your blankets, by 11:30 PM. You know that when you felt your best, you could be in bed, whispering in the dark to the person you felt safest with, at 10:00 PM (at the latest, because you both would have a busy day ahead and needed the rest). He likes sleeping early because he likes being well-rested.

So why the hell is Rin Itoshi at a club right now?

At 9:39 AM, ELLE Japan gets right back on track. Before your editorial shoot for a special anniversary edition of the magazine, they get you to sit down to do a video interview that they plan on posting all over their social media.

“This is a very special edition that will be coming out, and you are not only having the biggest spread dedicated to you, but you’re also going to be on the cover. Knowing this, how are you feeling right now, [Name]? This might be the most high-profile photoshoot you’ve done so far in your career, and that’s saying something. You have quite the impressive resume.”

The ring lights are shining directly in your eye. The stool they have you sitting on for this interview is uncomfortable, and you have to focus on remaining balanced. Your back is perfectly straight, and your hands are folded in your lap. You blink, and you see the video playing in your mind. You have God knows how much makeup caked on right now, and you still have a long day ahead of you. Rin is at a club right now. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl, and they’re basically grinding against each other, and he might just have forgotten all about you.

You smile brightly. At 9:40 AM in Japan, you let everyone know,

“I honestly think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been before in my life! This is a great way to establish a sort of, I guess, new era of my life and my career.”

You turn to face the camera directly, giving them a dazzling view of your pearly whites. “Not trying to rush the process or anything, but I am definitely looking forward to seeing how this will all play out in the future.”

You’re operating on autopilot for the rest of the day. The ELLE shoot wraps up close to noon. You forgo lunch, but knowing you and your tendency to skip meals, Benji refuses to start the car until you eat the lunch his wife packed for you. It’s light and refreshing — they want you to eat well, but they’re not cruel. Even if they want to bring you a feast of a nice, hot, home cooked meal, you’ll eat it out of obligation and then suffer the consequences on set when everyone asks why you’re so bloated. You don’t even taste what you’re consuming.

At 12:30 PM, you hop on the Zoom call and pretend to care about discussing matters such as the lack of personal style affecting the younger generations. Every topic is a trivial topic to you. The only thing worth dissecting is that damn video. You should’ve asked those twenty million subscribers to help you analyze that, instead of nodding along when the YouTuber starts going on a rant about how Shein and other fast fashion brands are ruining everything.

Late in the afternoon, you get another text.

kenyu: So the team wants to host a belated birthday party for me lmao. Team’s planning on having it at 10 tonight kenyu: Sending you the address right now

A party is exactly what you need right now. Endless drinks, no need for rational thinking, and you’ll be (mostly) surrounded by people who think models are all vain and vapid. No one there is going to expect a decent conversation from you, and with the state you’re in, it’s a wonder how all your sentences are even making sense.

You give Kenyu’s next message a like in response. You were expecting a club, but when you click on the address, Maps reveals that it’s residential. Rin is gallivanting around European nightclubs, and meanwhile, the best you can do are house parties. This is how the future is playing out?

At least even at your worst, people still think you’re on top of the world.

Maybe life without a man dragging you down and invading your space is for the best. After all, once you got done with all your professional obligations, it’s only eight at night. You’re used to going out with whatever makeup they did for you on set at your last shoot of the day, which is a shame. You have shelves full of makeup that’s been sent to you by different brands, and one of these nights, you plan on just messing around at your vanity.

You like living alone, you decide. You can leave all the lights on if you want, and no one complains about it hurting their eyes. You have full control of the thermostat. You don’t have to fight for counter space in the bathroom. Plus, no one can see how you’re living.

At 9:13 PM, you’re sprawled on the cool marble floor of your bathroom (squeaky clean thanks to the housekeeper you have come once a week), and instead of rewatching that dreadful video and subsequently crying, you had a quick retail therapy session. Your new Prada heels should be coming within the next two days.

You don’t get Benji to drive you. Nobody bats an eye at a rich girl having a driver, but it does seem kind of weird to have him drop you off at a party as if you're a tween girl getting taken to the mall. If the house is owned by one of Yukimiya’s teammates, surely it won’t be too awkward if you had to leave it there because you got too drunk to drive yourself back home?

Because — no offense to Yuki, you’re happy he’s getting another birthday celebration — the whole point of even going to this party is to get fucked up. You already know that Juliette had a point — if not TMZ, then at least Daily Mail will be all over Rin and that girl in the club. If that gets leaked, then you might as well have your own headline to combat his. Sure, lately you’ve been out partying, but that was with other models so it doesn’t raise too many eyebrows. Rin being caught at a club is basically him hard launching the breakup. You need to raise some speculation on your side of things, too.

you: can you get someone to pick up my car from this address tomorrow morning? you: please :)

When you see three dots appear, you smile for real. You can practically hear her sigh and see the shake of her head.

Fumiko Gima: Yes. Fumiko Gima: Be safe.

Aw, maybe your manager does have a heart. Right before you can send her a heart, she adds:

Fumiko Gima: Don’t stay out too late. You have your first shoot at 8 AM.

This is the message you give a heart reaction to. Maybe everything really is just business with her.

You suppose you can’t fault Fumiko for always seeming cold. She’s your manager, not your best friend.

In this industry, her honesty is refreshing. You normally find this to be the case, but you really feel it now when you step into the mansion and hear a cacophony of laughter swarming you from all sides. At every turn, there’s a celebrity with a drink in hand. Everyone’s leaning towards each other, as if they’re so captivated with the other’s words.

You see an actor leading a stumbling model up the spiral staircase. To your side, you see a baseball player chatting up the daughter of one of the baseball league’s board members. Upstairs, someone’s probably snorting a line off Yukimiya’s teammate’s bathroom counter. There are only three reasons why people in your social circle attend these parties: to get fucked, to get fucked up, or to make business deals. Considering the fact that you’ve been here for nearly five minutes and have yet to see a birthday cake — or the belated birthday boy himself — you’re pretty sure everyone here has lot the damn plot for the original celebration.

When you venture some more, you end up in the massive backyard. Some people are drunkenly making out in the pool, some people are watching them, and in a table in the corner, you spot a group of girls giggling and cheering as they all do shots. Perfect. This is exactly where you need to be.

One’s a model; you’ve seen her on a couple pages you flipped through in Harper’s Bazaar. You go up to the table and give her a bright smile.

“Hey, girl! Or should I say Miss Bazaar?” You greet her like how you think people would tease a friend. She’s not your friend; you don’t even know her name. You know she knows your name — everyone here does. And it’s because of the fact that everyone knows you that she lights up when she realizes you’re speaking to her.

A photo op with you guarantees that even if the headline coming out tomorrow is centered on you, she’ll still be in the frame. Daily Mail will add a caption naming everybody from left to right, and she’s planning on being the one captured right next to you.

“[Name]!” She squeals, giving you a quick side hug. “How have you been?”

All your friends, the grand total of exactly two people, know how you’ve been. You grin, pointing to the bottle of tequila they have on their table.

“After how this day has been, I honestly just need a shot.” You play it off like a joke, and as someone pours you one, you add, “Or maybe like five.” They all giggle before throwing back the tequila straight. They might think you’re joking, but this table full of strangers are the first people you’ve been honest with all day.

At 12:15 AM, they aren’t strangers anymore. In fact, you think they might be your best friends in the whole world. You don’t know the lyrics to the rap song blaring through the bass boosted speakers, but you’re laughing as you take another shot. The Harper’s Bazaar girl is doing another shot with you, but she has her phone in her other hand. She makes sure that the both of you are in the frame together, and a second later, she’s tagging you in an Instagram story you don’t bother to view. You’re not even following her.

“Okay, so out of all the guys here, who looks the most fuckable?” One of the girls leans on the table for support as she asks this question. You can’t help but notice how glittery her lipgloss is. Wow, even after all the shots she’s taken, there’s no transfer. Impressive. “I say Theo Sachs.”

“Who the fuck is Theo Sachs?” Harper’s Bazaar asks, and the whole entire table giggles. Honestly, at parties like these, laughing comes easy. In fact, you’re giggling right with them, even though you also have no fucking clue who Theo is. There’s just something so freeing in tequila-induced joy.

“Um, the host of this party?” Glittery Lipgloss says. “Oh my God, girl, he’s like, one of the players for Bastard.”

“The fuck is Bastard?” Another girl asks, adjusting her blue minidress.

“The soccer team!” Glittery Lipgloss is too drunk to be fed up, but you’re sure she would be rolling her eyes if she could.

“I didn’t know we had soccer players here. I only saw baseball players.” Blue Minidress frowns, before adding, “I would totally fuck one of the baseball boys, though. No preference whatsoever. Matter of fact, I could take the whole team.”

Harper’s Bazaar laughs. “What about you, [Name]? Who are you taking home tonight?”

Before you can think of something to say, Glittery Lipgloss groans. “Oh my God, she has a boyfriend.” She looks at you for confirmation. You don’t give her any, but thankfully Blue Minidress has her own insight to add to this conversation.

“So what the fuck does that have to do with her question? [Name], who are you taking home tonight?”

Nobody. Out of every party you’ve gone to this past month, you went back home, completely and utterly alone each and every time. It’s not even because nobody offered — they have — but because no matter how lonely you may get or feel, you don’t like strangers in your space. It took you three months of dating Rin to let him into the penthouse you were originally staying in, and that was with you being in love with him.

Once again, you’re saved from answering when someone behind you goes, “[Name]?”

You turn around, only to come face to face with Yoichi Isagi. On second thought, maybe this isn’t the rescue you thought it was. Drunk You can’t hold back your frown when you see him. He’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and chinos. He looks perfectly business casual and could pass off as an off-the-clock investment banker instead of the world class athlete you’ve heard he is. Then you let out a little snort of laughter, which only makes him look more confused. You don’t want to tell him that it’s kind of funny how normal he looks.

Not in a bad way. You’re surrounded by models for practically the whole day. Looking unattainably hot or having ethereal beauty is the one non-negotiable job requirement. Even Rin, with his stupidly long lower lashes and impossibly high cheekbones and his pretty boy resting sulking face, is serving standards some male models can’t achieve. Isagi looks like the type of guy you would have a crush on if the two of you were completely normal and attended regular high school together.

But that’s not the reality you’re living in. Right now, you’re getting drunk with girls you don’t know, and every night, you’re making headlines. He’s a professional athlete that everyone at this table would gladly fuck just for a chance to be declared social media’s favorite WAG of the Week. The both of you could have your pick of anyone at this party, but you refuse to let anyone in, and you think Isagi might be one of those intense athletes who only care about their sport.

If that’s the case, he’s doing every girl a favor by not pretending he can commit to anything but soccer. You know someone who could use a few pointers.

“Hi,” you mumble, and then you want to slap yourself because why the fuck are you acting like you’re nervous? But for some reason, you feel like you're a kid caught with their grimy hand in the cookie jar, like you’re doing something wrong.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Well, it’s Kenny’s birthday party. Of course, I’d be here.” You cross your arms against your chest, feeling like you have something to prove. Before Yukimiya became his teammate, Kenyu was your friend first. Like, real friend, not just someone you leave supportive comments on their Instagram post type of friend.

Isagi actually smiles when he hears that. “Funny. I think everyone but Yukimiya actually wants to be here.”

You sober up a bit when you hear that. “Yeah, I couldn’t find him anywhere.” Not that you looked very hard. The minute you found this table of girls, you didn’t bother exploring the rest of the mansion.

“He was upstairs with some of the guys. You know that he, uh, doesn’t really like these types of parties.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You don’t seem like the type to like these parties either.” If he was anyone else, you’d be saying this to flirt. You’re honestly not sure what your intention behind this comment was, either. You’re too drunk to decide if you wanted it to be an insult (some way to defend Yukimiya’s behavior?) or just you trying to make conversation for once (you’re not normally one for small talk).

“Caught me.” Isagi smiles easily. From now and thinking back to Yukimiya’s birthday lunch, Isagi is rarely not smiling. You wonder if he means it. Surrounded by people who only let you drink with them because being seen with you elevates their own status, you decide that the answer to that is a probably not. “I was about to head out before I thought I saw you, and I wanted to come by and…” For a second, he pauses to choose the right words to say. “Just wanted to see if it really was you.”

“Well, you saw me. Guess your business is done here.” Then you swiftly turn your back to him, as if to abruptly end the conversation. Instead, you’re drunker than you realize, and your heel ends up being wedged deeper into the grass than you expected, and you lose your balance. You think you might fall, which would be so embarrassing, but maybe not as embarrassing as what actually ends up happening.

What actually ends up happening is that Isagi is quick to wrap his arm around your abdomen, pulling you close to him as he attempts to keep you steady and upright. The girls looked shocked, but then they burst into another round of giggles, and since you’re not joining in the laughter, all you can think about is how annoying they are. You squirm around in his grasp, ignoring the whiff of fresh laundry you get from being all up in his personal space (not by choice!!!; he’s the one that pulled you in, after all!), and he releases you.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks you. It’s hard to glare at him when he looks so genuinely concerned.

“Never better.”

“Do you have a ride home?”

What does it matter to you? Is what you want to say.

“I’ll call an Uber.” You lie, hoping that this will end the conversation once and for all. Seriously, Isagi just killed the whole vibe of the party for you. You want to go back to drinking.

“But I thought you didn’t do Ubers.” When Isagi calls you out on your bullshit, you soften momentarily. You almost forgot that he heard about your weird thing of having strangers know your home address. Then, you go back to giving him the cold shoulder. Sometimes, it’s a warm and gooey feeling to be known. Right now, you want to drown your sorrows in tequila and be showered with fake affection by girls who probably don’t even like you sober. You didn’t come to this party to be known. You came here for revenge.

(You’re not going to acknowledge how drinking your sadness away isn’t necessarily showing up Rin, but for nearly an hour straight, you hadn’t thought about him, and that’s good enough.)

When you have no response to that (wit doesn’t come easy when you’re in the condition you’re in right now), Isagi looks at you imploringly.

“Let me take you home.”

You shake your head childishly, almost saying nuh-uh. “Just because you don’t like this party doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I’m staying right here.”

He finally frowns. “Fine. I’ll wait for you to finish up here, then I’ll take you home.”

“I’m with my friends right now. Leave me alone.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Which friend is going to make sure you get home safely? Yukimiya already left early.” Despite the two of you not knowing what the other is thinking, you both give wry smiles about that statement for the same reason. The party is still going on strong, despite the guest of honor not wanting to show his face and leaving early.

“These are my best friends.” You gesture to the trio of girls you know nothing about, besides the fact that they can keep up with your drinking habits. They all smile at Isagi, who waves back before turning his attention back to you.

“Really?” He asks. “What’re their names again?”

No one has anything to say to that, especially you. When the silence gets too awkward, Isagi clears his throat and also puts his foot down.

“I’m taking you home, [Name].”

You look at the trio of strangers you just spent hours with. Harper’s Bazaar shrugs, and the other two look away. The sting of not knowing who they are, despite them obviously having enough notoriety to be invited, makes your “best friends” not your friends anymore. Whatever.

“Fine.” You grumble, following Isagi to his car.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Is what he asks you as he signals to make a turn. The clicking of the turn signal is the only thing that fills the silence in the car.

No.

Sometimes, it’s fun in the moment, but that’s only when you’re drunk enough to trick yourself into thinking you’re having a good time. You’re more like Yukimiya (and — gross �� Isagi) than they know; the whole “It Girl dominates the party scene” vibe you’ve got going on… It’s just bullshit that your PR team mixes together to get people talking. The high of being adored by everyone in a room vanishes almost immediately the minute you go home and wash off your makeup. In the bright lights of your bathroom, you stare at the sad, lonely girl in the mirror. It’s too dark outside for you to see anything out the window, but you lean your head against the cool glass, and before you know it, you’re waking up…

To Isagi groping you?

You’re groggy and confused and trying to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes, but Yoichi Isagi is definitely all up on you. You’re shocked, honestly. He looks like such a sweet guy! No wonder he was so pushy in getting you home.

He’s holding you in some awkward side hug, and he’s patting down your waist, trying to slip his fingers through the fabric of your dress, and finally, because he must be a novice-level pervert who doesn’t know the first thing about female anatomy, you speak up.

“Gross! You can’t even feel up a girl properly! No wonder you take advantage of drunk, vulnerable girls!”

“Ah!” He jerks back, shocked that you’re awake. Serves the pervert right. He should be backing up. You took a month of kickboxing classes (your modeling agency thought it would be the next big thing, since all the Victoria Secret models kickbox — they were wrong). “I-I wasn’t feeling you up!”

“Then why were your hands all over me?”

“I was looking for your key! You were asleep, and you looked like you needed it, so I just carried you to your door, but it’s locked.”

Oh. Likely story. You’re not letting him off the hook just yet.

“Obviously my front door would be locked, dumbass. Who doesn’t lock their house?” You point to the perfectly trimmed hedges by your door. “Key’s in the bushes.”

Since you’re making no moves to get down on your knees and rifle through the bushes, Isagi sighs and does it himself. When he holds up the key, you nod in thanks, take it, and then proceed to unlock the door using your fingerprint.

He blinks. “What?”

“What?” You repeat back, innocently.

“You didn’t even need the key to unlock the door!”

“Yes, Isagi. Modern technology is something, isn’t it?” And because you feel kind of bad, you offer him the chance to wash up before driving back.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Isagi says from the kitchen sink. You’re sitting on a stool by the counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing bad.” He clarifies. “It’s just… Rin’s a pretty private person. We always wondered what his girlfriend must be like. Sorry.” He shuts off the faucet, dries his hands. “Ex-girlfriend, I guess.”

“How do you know that?” You’ve been racking your brain, wondering if Yuki spilled your secret accidentally. Or — even worse — Rin himself confirmed it. Rin never even told anyone explicitly that the two of you were dating, so it’s not plausible that he would go blab about the breakup.

“Well, I didn’t really know for sure until I drove you home that first time.” He admits. “I just thought you made a weird face when I mentioned Rin during lunch, and then you started acting funny afterwards. Just had a hunch, that’s all.”

Great. So, Isagi, who’s basically a stranger to you, could read you to filth. Is there anyone else that you haven’t been fooling? How embarrassing. Being perceived sucks.

You don’t say anything else. You can hear Isagi mumbling about something, and you make a half-hearted noise in reply, but you’re sleepy and drunk and coming to the realization that you can’t keep fooling everyone around for long. There’s no point in dancing around the topic of your breakup. It’s getting tiring, anyway.

It is pretty exhausting to be pining after someone who’s not coming back.

Because that’s why you’re trying so hard to keep the breakup a secret. Partly for pride, but mostly because… You’re hoping that after learning everything there is to know about you, Rin Itoshi wouldn’t go so far to cut you so deeply by leaving you. Right? He understood your level of loneliness like no one else, and he related to it. For the first time in both of your lives, the two of you suddenly found the right person to fill in all the empty spaces.

And then he left, and the emptiness just continues to grow in infinite amounts.

You groan as you move around, only to find that you’re moving on top of your bed. You’re tucked into your sheets, and your hair is splayed across your pillow. You turn your head and see a shadowy figure exiting out your bedroom door.

“You’re leaving, too?”

Your throat is dry, and the words come out small. You hate this feeling of hopelessness and vulnerability, and the figure pauses in his steps.

He hushes you gently. “You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long night.”

“Fine. Don’t stay. I don’t care.” You burrow yourself further into your blankets.

“Do you really want me to stay?”

At one in the morning, covered in the darkness of your bedroom, you turn every shadow into Rin Itoshi. You don’t know what you mumble in response, but you know that whatever you said, it’s directed towards him.

#yoichi isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x you #isagi x reader #one shot #fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #smau #series: if you feel like falling

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ellstronaut · 10 months ago

Note

I just saw your last post and it'd like to ask, do you have any actual accurate ellie fanfiction recommendations? like, idk, fluff or something

Omg YES anon!!! pls tell me what you think of these and don’t shy away from sliding into my dms (plssss my hands hurt the list is lengthy 💀)

WRITERS THANK U FOR UR SERVICE <3

BY FAR MY MOST FAV FIC EVER WOULD DO ANYTHING TO WIPE MY MEMORY AND RE-READ

(If you wanna know what life was like for Ellie and her loved ones in Jackson > you won’t be disappointed > basically fills in the gaps of Ellie’s journal)

Jackson Days @ehefic (Ellie’s pov)

Oasis @ehefic (Dina’s pov)

FAV DELLIE FICS

(anything by watery sun she writes the perfect blend of fluff-smut-angst not to mention I’ve never read such a unique pov in my life damn)

hey, murderer @watery-sun

mirth (bars a thousand harms) @watery-sun

BRO I SWEAR IT’LL CHANGE UR LIFE

(no tags couldn’t find their @s on tumblr)

More important

You’re all the things I’ve got to remember

There’s no one like you

all I know is there’s no where I’d rather be

caught in the act

Midnight love

MY FAV X READERS FICS COULD READ A MILLION TIMES WISH I COULD TATTOO ON MY BODY

I saw you in a dream @elliesflower

don’t you dare fall in love @ohcaptains

honeybun @blackgrlficsnthings

THIS KINDA ELLIE MAKES ME WEAK; BLURBS, ONE SHOTS, DRABBLES, HCS

you’re doing your nightly skincare routine and a sleepy ellie joins you. @ijtaimes

barista ellie headcannons @ellabsbb

my brain is just filled to the brim of what cuddling with ellie would be like... @elsgooglyeyes

Ellie would definitely go into the store room and just do that silent scream @moodywyrm

bumping into Ellie wasted at a night club @coeurify

thinking about reader giving ellie a haircut and fucking up the front lol. @bellswlw

i wholeheartedly believe she wouldn’t understand the point of clear lipgloss. @elsweetheart

ellie giving reader a piggyback when reader is too tired to walk @elsweetheart

sleepy smut with ellie where they’re keeping quiet to themselves and it’s fluffy @me-and-your-husband

While Ellie leaves her office for a moment, leaving her stream unattended, you sneak in. @elliesmainhoe

THE ATTRACTIVE THINGS ELLIE WILLIAMS DOES @luvsellie

ellie is that girlfriend who arrives at your dorm door the second she receives a "they're not here" text. @dykeomania

thinking about what ellie’s social media probably looks like. @beanlot

Ellie & you get interrupted while being in the moment @losingherface

Dealer!ellie with a reader who bites affectionately @elsweetheart

i just know ellie is the best kisser, even to the point where she gets flustered. @elsweetheart

You and Ellie have just settled onto the farm and you noticed her hair is getting a little long, so as a nice girlfriend you offer to cut it. :) @koitrash

domestic hcs with ellie. w <3 @kurosaaki

clingy!reader wanting ellie's attention when she's playing video games and just like climbing into her lap @elsweetheart

reader is ellie's gf and she's a virgin and Ellie pop her cherry but Ellie is like really sweet and go slow n shit @hotxcheeto

okay but college!ellie being so excited to come to your room on the last day of the semester, @sp4cepunisher

Ellie's love language @astroels

Reader drags her long time girlfriend to meet her parents at their summer vacation home. The two share a very embarrassing moment together @losingherface

#ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie x dina #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #my recs #joel miller #PLS READ BRO U WONT REGRET

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neowinestainedress · 22 days ago

Note

well hello rebs! it’s been a month since the concert and i’m finally here I’m sorry for disappearing but i got sick for two weeks (a little tmi that i shouldn’t be admitting on the internet but i couldn’t ask for a day off to go to the concert so i pretended to be sick and i got a doctor’s certificate for sick leave and i played the role so well that the doctor gave me 2 weeks 😭 and it was so great cause i went to santiago with my friend two days before the concert and we stayed for like 4 or 5 days in total so it was great, it was like a mini vacation i loved it!! but after i went back to my city my throat started to hurt and then i got sick for almost two weeks and then national independence holidays came which lasted for a week and then i had to go back to work and omg i had SO much shit to do and i think i’m finally adjusting 100% back again but it’s been kinda difficult cause my boss assigned me (and to the team actually) new tasks so i have even more work now….) but yeah now to my actual concert experience!!

- i gave freebies (i made 80? friendship bracelets but like with double strings and different designs 😭) so the night before me and my friend had to pack them + shower and do our skincare and etc… we ended up sleeping only (for less than) 2 hours

- at 17:00 we entered the actual venue and i got second row (i know it’s a really good position but i was hoping barricade again this time 😭☹️) but the girl in front of me smelled SO SO SO BAD. her armpits smell was so strong that at one point i was about to throw up and i even started questioning if i was the smelly one cause even when i turned around i could feel her smell super strong so that kinda ruined a little bit the concert for me and also she was super tall so she was also covering my vision at some points so yeah….

- and at 17:30 6dream came out and OMFGGGGG like haechan you will ALWAYS be MY man. he was the first one to come out and went directly to my side (thank god cause i’ve seen videos from other countries and at soundcheck he always stays at the other side) and not to be delusional but when he first came out i have a video of him looking at me hehehe

- sadly they spent almost the whole soundcheck at the extended stage so i didn’t see them up close that much but i remember 2 parts the most: them talking about chile and how much they enjoyed the food the wine and the andes mountain range(? and when jeno came to our side like he was literally in front of us and everyone was filming him but haechan was on the extended stage looking at our side and i was the only one recording/looking at him it was such a y/n moment 😭

- then the soundcheck ended so i went to the bathroom and when i came back the general ticket holders? arrived and omfggg they were so wild and it was such a different experience from tds2. everyone was pushing and super close so i kinda started panicking and i started screaming that they should move a little bit to the back to give us more space cause i swear i was standing on my tippy toes cause there wasn’t any space left to stand. i couldn’t sit at any moment so between that + the smelly girl + my feet hurting i wasn’t feeling so well tbh…

- but FINALLY at 9 pm the concert started and all my problems disappeared but also the heat omg it was sooo bad i felt like i was sweating so much but thank god no one pushed me or anything

- they sang sooo good especially chenle like his voice is incredible and i had so much fun i screamed and laughed and danced and i just love them so much 😭😭😭😭

- and okay about the interactions i don’t think i had that many this time but the ones i’m sure i had are 2: mark looked at me a lot of times (i have pictures/videos) AND i had a sign telling haechan i had a gift for him (the shinchan as michael jackson keychain i bought last year for him) and he said 👍 (that i could throw it to him) but i wasn’t sure back then if he said it to me cause i had my phone the sign and since he was in front of us everyone was moving and screaming but the girl beside me told me HE TOTALLY LOOKED AT YOU AND TOLD YOU YES TO THROW IT but i got scared i might hit him so i waited until they went to the extended stage but i threw it with too much strength so it went too far back so he didn’t see it later 😭 but at least i got the keychain back so tds4 i guess???

- after the concert my feet hurt SO SO FUCKING MUCH like each step i took was so painful worst pain from a concert ever (i think it was worse than the one from the eras tour) and i was so tired i just wanted to sleep but i was also super happy

- i reunited with 4 more friends after the concert so i was even more happy !!!

- days later i sent my videos to one friend who wasn’t close to the stage and she asked me what are you and mark cause he totally looked at you so much (his bias is mark also) so yeahhh feeling totally normal about it 😁☝🏼

- not related to the actual concert but my friend (the one i went to the concert with) had a friend (who lives in santiago) and the day before we were supposed to go eat with her and more friends but she was waiting for us at the subway and when we arrived she only greeted my friend and completely ignored me (we were meeting for the first time) and then left. and it was really annoying and awkward and we saw her at the concert too and she did the same but i didn’t even try to acknowledge her presence then cause she was fucking rude and manipulative with my friend i really hated her a total bitch

and now about the members….. to be honest, i actually don’t remember much 😭 but

- mark had little braids on his hair (which i HATE and sadly i’ve seen him twice with braids he hates me sm) but his face is more long and his cheekbones and smile❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 he went to my side a lot and we’re actually dating now 😁

- jeno is still super skinny but his arms?????? so pale and also super sweet. he interacted a lot with our side and was always smiling and doing kyuu and sending kisses to us

- haechan omfg that man…. i just need ONE chance with him…. his lips are so plump, he has round eyes and a little nose and his cheekbones are so high he seriously is so much prettier in person the camera doesn’t do him justice i’m in love with him. but also i want to add (i don’t remember if i said this last time) but to be honest, at tds2 i want to think he was tired but he was more dry? and not that playful or cheerful as i was used to seeing him. he was more serious and didn’t interact much with the public (he picked up my gift but still, his attitude was different) but this time he was like the haechan i always see in videos from other concerts. we have a chant that is “mijito rico” which basically translates to “sexy guy/girl” and we ALWAYS sing it to every artist so this time wasn’t the exception and we sang it twice i think? and he danced to it both times and you could totally see how happy he was unlike the last concert that he looked kinda annoyed?? (idk 😭) so i was really happy and relieved to see that he actually enjoyed this time cause his attitude last year kinda bummed me a little (you could ask about this topic to any chilean fan and they would say the same, he really behaved very different last year). and please don’t misunderstand, i don’t want to sound ungrateful because i enjoyed tds2 very much but i wanted to point that out cause when i noticed that i tried to convince myself that i was wrong and ignore it but after this year’s concert i’m sure he acted different this time

- jaemin is just the sweetest human ever i just remember looking at him and he was always smiling 🫂 and for example i was looking at my videos of broken melodies and rains in heaven and he had the BIGGEST smile ever my cutie pie ❤️‍🩹 but i also had him in front of me in poison so yeah much to think about. and before the encore we did a chilean chant (it goes c h i CHI l e LE CHI CHI CHI LE LE LE VIVA CHILE) and he liked it so when he did his last ment he did it and it was so cute and funny. also his upper body is super big (boobs and arms).

- chenle !! i think everyone became a chenle stan. something in him shifted and he is so fine i mean he always has been but he has a different aura now. his voice is really good and stable and he is such a cat. he was the member who spent more time at my side i think and we made eye contact too cause he read my haechan sign hahah he smiled and interacted a lot (my friend is chenle biased)

- jisung, i will eat him. HE’S SO $-&;$2!2& soooo hot and so shy i want him. he didn’t go much to my side but he was always shy laughing and being super cute ❤️‍🩹 and he ofc dances well but he doesn’t look much taller than the other members tbh

and i think that’s basically all so to end things i came to three conclusions:

it was such a fun show and i really am the happiest at concerts but it couldn’t top tds2 for me at least. the tds2 will always be their best tour (at the moment) for 4 main reasons: we had 7dream, the setlist was their best so far cause they sang the best song in the world aka to my first (no one gets that song like ME), it was the first dream (solo) concert in chile and also the first time of haechan and 7dream here (😭😭😭😭), and i got first row but i also got noticed by haechan ❤️‍🩹

the haechan tunnel vision is craaaaazy i swear i tried to also focus on other members but i failed i couldn’t stop looking at him he’s really super captivating and i’m just a girl. the way he dances and moves through the stage he seriously is an amazing performer and singer. i’d do crazy things for him.

i LOVE my sweet dreamies i’d die for them

so yeaahh, that was my tds3 experience… i wanted to buy merch but i couldn’t so i’ll try to send my cousin to buy me merch in copenhague

now tell me how you been rebs 🩷 and please ignore any mistakes i’m as always writing this at 2 am

have an amazing week<3

- 💌

Hiii! I’m sorry if it took me so long to reply but I’ve been busy and I didn’t want to rush the reply. This was karma telling you to never pull this move again ajsojlks I can’t even say “well at least you didn’t work for almost a month” because you came back to do even more 😭 But hey you had a great time at least!

omg that’s so cute!!! I miss making friendship bracelets, I wanted to make some for a concert I was supposed to see but thank god I didn’t have time because the whole tour got cancelled so I would’ve wasted beads and time lmao (I still have so many beads for taylor, I hope that for the next tour we will keep doing this because I don’t know what to do with them lmao)

- since we had soundcheck we arrived at like 8:45 am? but it was actually kinda late so we got number 567 or smt like that….. and they let us enter the park (where the venue is) at 14:30 and i was already so tired and hungry - at 17:00 we entered the actual venue and i got second row (i know it’s a really good position but i was hoping barricade again this time 😭☹️) but the girl in front of me smelled SO SO SO BAD. her armpits smell was so strong that at one point i was about to throw up and i even started questioning if i was the smelly one cause even when i turned around i could feel her smell super strong so that kinda ruined a little bit the concert for me and also she was super tall so she was also covering my vision at some points so yeah….

okay but second row is such a good position especially since you didn’t arrive super early. I feel you, for taylor I had to be there at 12:00 (before to get in line, but they opened at 14:00 when the concert started at 21 I wanted to die, I literally only survived because I started talking with two girls in line and then we became a small group). Noooo that’s one of my biggest nightmares, not you starting to question if it was you aodoss but lmao that’s what I fear the most in crowded spaces, it doesn’t matter how clean I am I always start thinking that the water didn’t do anything and the perfume just vanished and I smell like shit (also let’s be honest, it’s not so easy to know where the smell comes from so even if it’s not me I’m always afraid people might think it’s me 😭) tall people should be banned from the standing sessions I said what I said!!!

not you studying where they go lmao but could you choose or were you on that side because of the tickets you had?

how does the soundcheck work? Did they try all the songs? Or was it mostly talking? I’m sorry if it’s stupid but I don’t know anything about this tour because I was/am so mad I couldn’t go I didn’t watch anything lmao. NOT YOU AND HAECHAN LOST IN YOUR OWN WORLD I LOVE YOUUUU

the only thing I will ever be jealous of the usa is the sitting floor because standing floor is HELL I don’t care I’m used to it, it’s just hell every time and people have no boundaries. When I saw taylor I sat almost all day but then people started getting up before paramore and if you sat down you felt like suffocating (it was summer, in milan where it’s humid af, the sun hit the stage until the speak now set lmaooo I was frying) like there are already two hours to wait WHY ARE YOU STANDING??? the same thing happened with 127, one person RIPPED the signed ball from my hand I was shocked, like… is it really that serious?

- they sang sooo good especially chenle like his voice is incredible and i had so much fun i screamed and laughed and danced and i just love them so much 😭😭😭😭 - and okay about the interactions i don’t think i had that many this time but the ones i’m sure i had are 2: mark looked at me a lot of times (i have pictures/videos) AND i had a sign telling haechan i had a gift for him (the shinchan as michael jackson keychain i bought last year for him) and he said 👍 (that i could throw it to him) but i wasn’t sure back then if he said it to me cause i had my phone the sign and since he was in front of us everyone was moving and screaming but the girl beside me told me HE TOTALLY LOOKED AT YOU AND TOLD YOU YES TO THROW IT but i got scared i might hit him so i waited until they went to the extended stage but i threw it with too much strength so it went too far back so he didn’t see it later 😭 but at least i got the keychain back so tds4 i guess???

GIRL OMG AHSOOSO HOW ARE YOU ALIVE???? WAIT HOW DID YOU GET IT BACK OMG??? I fear this keychain doesn’t want to leave you

I can imagine if you didn’t sit for hours straight omg 😭😭 (we talked about the eras tour, right? Didn’t we both get out of the woods as a surprise song or am I making it up? 😭😭)

- i reunited with 4 more friends after the concert so i was even more happy !!!

meeting with friends after or before concert is the best part, having someone who understands to talk about what happened is the best way to actually realize it was all real

I didn’t see the videos but I agree with your friend (let's hope haechan doesn't mind you cheating on him)

omg? And your friend didn’t say or do anything? I don’t understand people sometime because one thing was if she tried to get to know you and releazied she didn’t like you, but she didn’t even try??? Dind’t even say hello??? Rude as fuck for no reason at all??? Maybe she was jealous of you and your friend?

and now about the members….. to be honest, i actually don’t remember much 😭 but - mark (...)

WDYM YOU HATE THE BRAIDS??? I LOVE THEM ON HIM

- jeno (...)

he’s baby

- haechan (..)

the difference in the length between him and the others is SENDING ME LMAO you don’t even try to hide it (as you should) the way EVERYONE say he’s even prettier irl kills me omg how can it be possible. “mijito rico” in chile 🤝🏽 “sei bellissima/o” in italy. maybe he was more tired back then? Tbh idk because I even if I surely saw videos of tds2 I don’t remember anything lmao but if all you felt it I’m sure it was like this

- jaemin (...)

how did you survive omg. That’s so cute omg NOT THE BOOBS AND ARMS LMAO

- chenle (...)

from the videos I have the feeling he has an amazing stage presence and it’s super underrated tbh but I wouldn’t know.

- jisung (...)

babyyyy ☹

and i think that’s basically all so to end things i came to three conclusions:

i LOVE my sweet dreamies i’d die for them

I’m so happy it was a great experience and you had fun!!! let's hope next time they will come back as 7 once again

so yeaahh, that was my tds3 experience… i wanted to buy merch but i couldn’t so i’ll try to send my cousin to buy me merch in copenhague

what merch will you get?

now tell me how you been rebs 🩷 and please ignore any mistakes i’m as always writing this at 2 am

I have nothing to say really lmao. I’ve been busy because I took photos for an exhibition I will have in November and I’m super happy with how they came out. I was supposed to see one of my favorite singers yesterday but then she postponed the concert to November and then yesterday she cancelled the whole tour so I’m a bit sad about it cause I have been looking forward to it since February. And also since I was already seeing her I decided not to see another singer I like but I couldn’t even get tickets last minute for him because the last cities left were in these days and not close to where I live so I wouldn’t have time to organize a trip rip.

Once again I’m sorry if it took me so long, have a great weekend!!! Love you!!!

#anon answered #💌 anon

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esse-writing · 3 years ago

Text

Sick

Billy Russo x reader

Warnings : 18+, smut, sickness, Billy being a baby, swearing, a little sick sex?, mention of medication, unprotected sex, fingering, name calling, oral sex (f), fluff

You kick the door open with a huff, closing it behind you with your foot.

You slam the two heavy bags on Billy’s kitchen counter, sighing at your sore hands as you slowly take off your coat and your scarf. As you take off your phone and put on some Louis Armstrong you start thinking about starting dinner, so everything will be ready when Billy comes back home from work. You slowly stuff all the groceries away, still a little clumsy around his kitchen; you’ve been dating for a while, the first months were kinda rough since he was not completely into having a relationship. But when he realised how much he liked you he started to open up with you and now you’re spending more time in his house than yours, most of your clothes sitting in his wardrobe, your skincare placed next to his in the cabinet.

You put away the last bag and you close the fridge, jumping back a few feet and screaming when you find Billy standing behind the fridge door.

“Billy, what the fuck, you scared me” you huff, a hand on your chest feeling like you might be having a heart attack. “Why are you home already? Thought you were still at Anvil” you mumble, moving closer to kiss him but he steps back

“Frank sent me home, he says I’m sick and I’ll infect everyone” he says nasally, and you take a moment to look at him, his eyes a little swollen and his nose red as he sniffles.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry” you coo at him, and you bring a hand up to his forehead, feeling him. He groans, rolling his eyes at your tone. He’s so damn proud and he hates being pitied, and he totally shows it when he moves your hand away, muttering “I’m fine, it’s just a flue”

You scoff, taking him by his shoulder and moving him to the couch, stopping yourself from cooing at him again when he stumbles on his feet, knowing too well that it would be too much for his ego. He keeps pushing your hand away, pouting and complaining even when you make him lay down, taking the plaid to cover him.

“Russo, stop being a baby. You’re sick, just let me check your temperature and then I’ll make some chicken soup, mh?” you stand up, walking to the bathroom and rolling your eyes at the protest coming from the living room. It takes some time to convince him to measure his temperature, and while he’s laying down you move back to the kitchen to start the soup. You bend in front of him, reaching for the thermometer as you slightly touch his forehead. He dozed off, his eyes closed as he breathes heavily. His fever is high and you swear under your breath, knowing that it would take a lot of arguing to make Billy take some medicine and actually stay in bed to recover.

You ponder if letting him rest or waking him up when the soup is ready, but you know he probably hasn’t eaten since this morning and he needs some food, so you gently caress his head as you call him, his eyes slowly opening to look at you.

“You need to eat Billy” you say, helping him sit up as he groans

“I feel like shit” he mumbles, his eyes glassy as you hand him the plate. “I know, but you’re gonna take some meds and sleep, you’ll feel better tomorrow. I already called Frank to tell him you’re staying home for a couple of days, and I took some time off too”

He huffs, opening his mouth to complain but you don’t let him speak “I don’t care what you say Bill, you’re sick, Anvil will have to survive without you till you feel better. Eat now”

He pouts but he doesn’t talk back, starting to eat his soup. He must be really sick, some sort of alien disease to make him so compliant. You smile proud, sitting next to him as you eat too. When you’re both done you hand him a couple of pills and a glass of water, raising your brows, daring him to say anything. He rolls his eyes, swallowing the pills with the water before he stands up, losing his balance before you grab his arm.

“Let’s get some sleep, mh?” he nods, following you to the bedroom. You help him change into some more comfortable clothes, the fact that this man does not own a pijama because ‘you know I like to sleep naked’ still shocks you. He lays down and you move back to the kitchen, quickly cleaning everything up before joining him in bed. He rolls on his back, coughing as he moves his hands up and down his body, trying to heat up. His face is pale, the skin around his nose red as he keeps an angry-pouty look on.

It amazes you that this badass ex marine is just a big baby like everyone else, but he makes you so mad cause he’s just so stubborn. Then it hits you, that he probably never had someone taking care of him, and you move closer to his body.

“Come here, baby. You’re probably cold” you mumble, your hand up to gently caress his face. He turns his head to look at you, nodding slightly before he moves on you, his cheek against your chest as he wraps his arms around you.

“I don’t want you to get sick too” he mumbles as you hug him, covering him with the warm duvet and caressing his back.

“It’s fine, just get some rest Bill” you whisper, his breath already heavy as you smile, kissing his forehead.

It takes two days for his fever to drop. Medicine helps, and he spends most of the time napping in bed or on the couch. It makes you both laugh and cry when he pouts and whines like a baby, saying that he’s bored and asking you to go cuddle with him. You help him take a bath, and it’s probably the first time you bathed together without anything sexual happening.

You work from home a little, and it's actually nice to spend time with Billy, in those moments when the fever gives him a little peace and you can watch movies and cuddle, or even just lay next to each other reading, before he goes back to whiny sick baby.

It’s been three days now, and you’re ripped from your sleep by Billy’s hands wandering on your stomach. You open your eyes, shivering a little as the chilly hair hits your bare body.

You look down meeting Billy’s grin, his body between your legs as he peppers kisses on your thighs, his hands reaching unders your shirt to pinch your nipple.

You yelp, bringing a hand up to grab his wrist, moaning as he leaves a teasing kiss on your clothed clit.

“Bill, you’re sick, we shouldn’t -”

“I’m feeling much better baby” he chuckles, his hoarse morning voice making you clench. “You took such good care of me baby, let me thank you properly.” He smirks, looking up at you one more time before he gets back to kissing your thighs. He leaves wet kisses on your skin, pinching your nipple again before moving both his hands on your hips, circling your legs as he spreads you open. He moves his thumb over your panties, circling your clit through the fabric. You whine as he teases you, bringing a hand down to his hair as he keeps playing with you. A loud moan leaves your mouth as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard on it before moving back, looking down at the damp fabric with a grin.

“Billy please I-” you plead, crying out at the sound of your panties tearing in half.

Your head thrown back as he brings his mouth back around your clit, slightly biting down before sucking hard. Your hips snap up against him, his hands keeping you still as you sob.

You grip his hair harder, making him groan against your pussy. He moves back, looking at your cunt as you move your head down to look at him

“Missed this pussy so much baby, fuck” he moans, his hands moving down on your thighs, pushing your legs up and bending your knees against your chest, your pussy open for him. He spits on your clit before leaning down to lick at your cunt, his tongue flat against you as he tastes you. You jerk in his hold, crying out his name when he pushes two fingers inside you, his tongue licking your clit as he starts curling his fingers inside you.

He keeps pushing his fingers inside you, sucking on your clit till he makes your legs tremble, a stream of ‘please Billy’ leaving your mouth as he keeps hitting that sweet place inside you.

“That’s it babygirl, give it to me” he groans, the wet sounds leaving your pussy mixed with your moans as you cum. He slows down until he moves his fingers away from you, bending down again to push his tongue inside you, sucking at your puffy clit. You whine loudly, trying to push him away and he finally pulls back, slowly bringing your legs back down around his hips as he moves on you, kissing you hard.

You moan against his lips, trying to kiss him back in your dizzy state.

“Best pussy ever, taste so fucking good” he mumbles between kisses, his hand down to stroke his dick, slapping it against your clit a couple of times before pushing inside you in one hard thrust. He keeps his body up with one hand, the other one stroking your hip slowly as he moans loudly, his head down to look at your pussy.

“Look at her, so fucking tight. Milking me like the good little slut she is” he groans, moving his hips back before thrusting inside you again. You’re a moaning mess under him, cupping his cheeks to bring him back down, messily kissing him as he starts fucking into you faster.

He moves his head down, biting and marking your neck

“C’mon baby, milk my cock so I can cum inside this pussy” he mumbles, panting against your skin. Your walls clench around him as you moan, cumming again. He gives you a couple of sloppy thrust before biting down on your neck, stilling as he cums inside you. The feeling of his cock twitching inside you makes you whine again. He groans a little as he moves his head back, smiling at you as he pecks your lips.

He gets up, leaving your room before getting back with a towel, cleaning both of you up and laying down next to you.

You slowly roll on your side, cuddling against him as he wraps his arm around your shoulder

“Looks like you’re feeling better’” you mumble, head light in post sex bliss

He chuckles, tilting your chin up to peck your lips a couple of times. “Much better. Guess getting sick is not that bad after all” he smirks, and you roll your eyes, pinching his side slightly. Yea, maybe Billy being sick has its bright side.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fic #billy russo fluff #billy russo smut #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #esse writings

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randomhuman45 · 3 years ago

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Dannymay 2022- Day 8 Stained Glass

It was junior year people started noticing. Senior year is when they started asking questions. Junior year people would raise an eyebrow and shake it off. But senior year people started talking, Danny could hear the whispering around him as he passed through the halls.

"Is he never gonna hit his growth spurt?"

"Why is he still that small?"

"I swear I never even seen him with acne, he still has his baby face."

"The kid hasn't grown at all, are his parents doing something to him?"

"He still looks like his freshman school picture."

Danny hadn't aged a day since the accident. Vlad didn't age either once the sores went down and the ectoplasm settled into his DNA. Danny hadn't seen his half ghost cousin in a while but she didn't look like she had aged either last time he saw her. Half ghosts don't age. It was a fact he couldn't change.

When he graduated, he had to make a decision. Let people know the truth, or fake his own death. It would be a little extreme to fake his own death, especially considering the fact that he already kinda died, half died at least. But what other choice did he have, people were already questioning his lack of aging, how long until someone called him out on it? How was someone who looked like they were still 14 get a job, live a normal mundane life? The fact was he couldn't.

Danni traveled and never stayed too long in one place without being invisible or passing as a tourist. Danny couldn't do that.

Vlad was old and rich enough to pass it off as good looks and skincare routine. The fact that the accident turned his human hair gray was the best thing going for him. Danny didn't have that.

So after graduation, he faked his own death. He attended the funnel of course, dressed in an expensive black suit Vlad had got him once as a Christmas gift, saying how "every young lad needed a suit for special occasions," or something like that. He couldn't remember fully since he was preoccupied with the long glances and flirting Vlad was giving his mother at the time.

He tied his tie the way his father taught him and as an invisible Phantom flew up to the church window made of stained glass watched his parents cry and tell stories about how much they loved him. He felt bad of course, but he had no other choice. He just let their sorrows bleed through the stained glass window as they mourned their son.

------------

His mother was the first to crack. She threw herself into her ghost work like never before. She couldn't handle the loss of her son and soon enough she worked herself to death. She had refused to leave the lab, not for food, not for sleep, not for sunlight, nothing. Jack tried cooking and bringing down food and water for her, he even put in some vitamin D in her sandwiches to help. Maddie never ate more than a bite and never drank more than a sip. Jazz tried explaining to her how eating and getting some rest would overall improve her work and studies, but it went in one ear and out the other.

It was only 3 months later Danny had to overshadow his mother to make her eat, drink, get sunlight and sleep. Jack had no idea and thought maybe his Jazzy pants had finally gotten through to his wife, even if everything in his body screamed that wasn't it. Jazz wanted to scold Danny, but she couldn't bring herself to do it knowing it was keeping their mother alive.

Maddie caught on though. She know something was wrong. She made sure to wear the spector deflector from then on and it only took 3 months after for Danny to put that same suit on and stare through the stained glass window in guilt. He pressed his forehead to the glass and cried whispering to the stained glass how it was all his fault his mother had died. The glass never responded, Danny didn't know if he was expecting it to or not anyways.

------------

Jack was heart broken over the loss of his son and the loss of his wife made him realize how easy it was to loose the ones closest to him. He had lost his best friend in college, he knew Vlad stayed away on purpose, he knew his friend was distant, he may not be the best when it came to calculations and shooting and books, but he knew people. He thought if he could be extra friendly, extra happy, and remind his friend if how it used to be that he could come around. He never did.

He knew he hadn't been there for Danny as much as he could. But he tried, he read so many father son bonding books and tried talking with his son, going fishing, sharing his lastest inventions with the boy. But his son still left, was gone forever and he wished there was more he could have done.

Maddie was the absolute love of his life, a fierce fire burning bright as ever just ready to take on the world and fight ghost with him, side-by-side. After their son passed he didn't know how to help. He tried convincing her to vacations with them and Jazz, bribing her with freshly made meals he spend days learning how to make, asking Jazz to help when he had gone through every checklist in every book on grief he could find at the library.

When she started eating again it was different, she didn't talk, she moved so differently. Every book he read said that if she did these things it would slow, robotic, distant, different, but this wasn't the right kind of different. Jazz seemed put off by it too, but what was he supposed to say, what was he supposed to do? He couldn't ask Jazz about it, she looked off put by just watching it, he couldn't imagine how she would react if he brought it up in conversation. He couldn't ask Maddie about it either, he couldn't compromise the growth she was making.

Maybe he should have asked, maybe he should have done something to keep things that way because it wasn't too long before she went back to her old ways of never leaving the lab and only barely eating. She now wore the spector deflector, he didn't know if that was why things had gone backwards in the progress, but if it really was a ghost making her sleep and eat for once. He can't say he was angry at the ghost for trying to help. At this point he would accept the help from any ghost at any cost if it meant they would help his wife.

He found Maddie laying across the floor with a broken beaker beside her hand. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he found her like that, but it didn't make the break in his heart hurt any less.

All he had left was his daughter. His Jazzy pants. He used every book he had on this to be the best father he could to her. He helped her with her studies, he made sure she ate and they talked everyday. Talked about how her day was, what was going on at university, about her friends, about how a boy in her class invited her to coffee. He made a joke about making sure this one was gonna treat her right or there would be consequences but she agreed that if they're relationship brought itself to a boyfriend/girlfriend level she would introduce them. Jack lived for his little girl and when he did pass it was only after a long life with the feeling that he did his daughter right on his mind before his heart gave out.

As colorful light from the stained glass window shined onto Jack's casket, Jazz knew Danny was on the other side. Danny floated there invisible and intangible so the light could shine through as he shared the best memories of his father with the glass. If the light shone brighter after each heartfelt story, then maybe it really did answer Danny afterall.

#dannymay2022 #day 8 stained glass #funerals was the only think I could think of for stained glass so sorry #i originally gonna have it be about danny at the window at each fam/friend funeral #but then i got caught up with jack that #ooopsie #anyway it was already longer than i planned #sooooooo ya got this instead #hope ya like it #i cant write #hopefully doing dannymay helps #im just trying somethin knew

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simplyxsinned · 4 years ago

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Hq boys with a sleep talker s/o

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

a/n: I always sleep talk in my dream so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ this is my first time writing (no hate pls)

Warnings: cussing

Characters: Tendou, Suna, Lev, Oikawa, Kuroo

Tendou:

Probably sleep talks too.

Who knows you two might end up even talking to each other in your dreams

He also sometimes screams

Long story short, he screamed and woke you up from your sweet dreams. You hit him, he woke up, you told him what happened, and threatened him that if he did that again you’d punch him and went to sleep again.

And he did screamed again

Let’s say the next day he found himself waking up on the floor with a black eye

Suna:

This little shit recorded it

When he found out that u sleep talk in your dreams he was curious

So when you started sleep talking one night. He secretly records it.

He asked you questions and you told him the truth

The next morning, he had teased you all day

That resulted in you pouting and him not being able to resist apologised to you

You guys spent the whole evening cuddling 🥺

Lev:

My man ✨wrestled✨in his dreams

When you guys were having your first sleepover at his house you were pumped keyword: were

The next morning you found yourself on the floor confused

Turns out that your boyfriend leg haiba kicked you off the bed

Alisa reported that she heard screaming and thumping last night

Bby apologised a lot after that forgive him please

Oikawa:

You guys we’re gossiping, chatting, trying out new hairstyles and taking skincare routines before bed

When he heard you sleep talking he immediately slapped you almost too hard

You immediately shook your eyes open and glared at him

“WHAT THE HELL TOORU!!!”

“I’m sorry y/n-chan it was an accident I swear!”

RIP Oikawa 🤭💀

Kuroo:

My man was fascinated by the fact that you could even talk in your sleep

He tries to ask you questions an you always answer him truthfully

Also teases you a lot that you’re sick of it

So you decided to prank him by tricking him into thinking you’re asleep but you’re actually not

“Y/n do you love me or food more?”

“.....food.”

“WHY-” help him he’s sobbing

Ty for reading <3

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christ0pher-evans · 4 years ago

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✨Life With You✨ [7]

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader Warnings: 18+ SMUT / Swearing / Mild Angst Word Count: 1.1k A/N: Told you I would get carried away with the smut😂 Please reblog and like🖤

♡ Series Masterlist

Evening Standard

It’s half an hour later when you hear Andy breath a sigh of relief as he walks into the bedroom. Giving him a brisk sideways glance from your place in front of the mirror, you continue with your skincare routine. No words are exchanged whilst you finish getting ready for bed, nor when Andy joins you in the bathroom.

Leaving Andy in the bathroom, you climb into bed, switching on your bedside lamp for reading. You pick up your book and immerse yourself into the pages, trying to find a sweet escape from what feels like a hostile environment in your bedroom.

Engrossed in your book, you barely acknowledge Andy climbing into bed next to you until he speaks to you.

“I’m sorry about tonight honey.”

You want to be resentful towards him but he sounds so defeated, so insecure.

Setting your book down softly in your lap, you lean over, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek; silent proof that you’ve accepted his apology. You get straight back to reading, not wanting to dwell on the subject for too long.

Fidgeting around lightly in bed to get more comfortable as you lean back against the headboard, your spaghetti strap on your satin slip dress falls down your shoulder. You flinch mildly as Andy slides it back up your arm and onto your shoulder, not expecting him to have been watching you to notice it fall in the first place. You glance over at him to thank him, halted by the look of desire on his face.

“Put the book down angel.”

The swell of arousal pools in your stomach but your mind has a contrasting perception. You know Andy must be tired and your anxiety screams that he is trying for a pity fuck, simply feeling guilty for neglecting you.

Sex before bed is normal for you and Andy because it’s typically your only remaining time in the day together during the week. Both with heightened sex drives, you always jump at the opportunity. Intimate, sleepy fucks feel like your speciality at this point. However, when Andy has spent the evening working, it’s quashed; either you are usually asleep by the time he gets to bed or he is falling asleep before his head even hits the pillow. You realise that makes you sound like a trite, old married couple.

“I said, put the book down angel”, his words are more rough this time.

“Andy, it’s fine, we don’t have to. You must be tired." You sneer, unintentionally.

Turning back to your book, you don’t pay much more attention to the dispute before Andy is pulling the book from your grasp and out of your reach. Leaning back over, he grasps your face in his large hand, staring deep into your eyes with a look of determination on his face.

“We got interrupted early and I didn’t get to satisfy my wife, and I always satisfy my wife”, he growls before pulling you straight into a heated kiss. As he pulls away, tugging on your bottom, you’re hooked; thrilled by his words.

“Andy..”, you pant before pushing him back and climbing on top of him, straddling his waist as he leans back against your headboard.

Clothes are stripped from you both, filthy words exchanged as Andy pulls you down onto his cock roughly, an outcry of pleasure leaving your mouth.

Andy has a tight grip in your hair, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he thrusts up into you. Mouth ajar, deep pants and moans fall from your lips as your eyes start to flutter closed from the pleasure.

“Keep your eyes on me angel. Wanna see how desperate you’ve been for me all day!”

Andy’s unoccupied hand squeezes at your breast, teasing your nipple as his eyes bore into yours. Considering this is a quick, ‘get it out of your system’ fuck before bed, it feels so deep and intimate. You can’t bare to look away from him, his lust paraded over his face. As one of your hands grips his shoulder, the other traces his lips with your thumb in between kissing him sloppily. Meeting his thrusts with your own bounces, your pleasure magnifies more than usual.

“Andy, please, I need -”, your words are cut off by your chokes of bliss as Andy's hand trails down your body, finding it's way to your clit easily. He knows exactly what you need.

“I know what you need angel. My good girl, asking so nicely to cum.” His words only fuel the fire coursing through your body and from then on, it’s messy and desperate.

Both your arms fling around Andy’s neck, hands running through his hair and gripping tightly as he hits your g-spot. Andy keeps a dominant grip in your hair, controlling your movements as he brings your lips crashing down onto his whilst his other hand continues its onslaught on your clit. His thrusts don’t get faster but they gets harder, deeper as your legs begin to tremble. Andy pulls your head back harshly from your kiss, evidently knowing you’re close.

“Look at me angel. Look at me as I make you cum all over my cock. That's it, good girl!” Andy undoubtedly can feel you before you even start cumming, and then it hits you. The euphoria of his cock consistently brushing against your spot as you clench around him is intoxicating, the jolts of sharp pleasure resonating deep within your stomach almost violent. Your eyes roll back in your head as Andy thrusts through your orgasm, searching for his own.

You slump against his body as he erupts inside of you, his groans muffled by your neck as you support each other, weakened from the pleasure.

Minutes pass as you both sit there, connected, revelling in the intimacy and familiarity of the moment. Afraid to break the contact, you squeeze Andy a little tighter.

Eventually, Andy manages to stand up, holding you tight to him as he walks through to the en-suite. Perching you on the bathroom side, he pulls out gently and wets a cloth. Leaning down, he sensually kisses up your right leg before swiping the warm fabric softly through your core, then cleaning himself up.

Neither of you bothering to re-dress into your pyjamas, too caught up in the intimacy of sleeping naked, you slip back into bed. As you cuddle into Andy, arm settled across his chest, he vocalises what you’ve been too afraid to address the whole evening.

“I love you Y/N, and I really am sorry about tonight -”, his fingers start nervously tracing patterns across your shoulder, “- I’m sorry every time it happens. You are my number one priority and you always will be. You’re my wife and you mean more to me than any case or client, always.”

You lean up and give him one last passionate kiss, "I love you too Andy."

You keep it short and sweet, wanting to forget the situation all together. Cuddled into Andy’s side, comforted by his words, you drift off to sleep.

Next: Are You Sure It’s The Weekend?

♡

Taglist: @cynic-spirit @itsscottiesstark @whxre4cevans [Please drop me a message if you’d like to become part of the taglist for this series or any of my work]

#andy barber #andy barber series #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber smut #chris evans characters #defending jacob #life with you series

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jellyluchi · 4 years ago

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La Squadra x Desi (South Asian) Reader (gender neutral)

A/N: I thought this would be cute and funny since I don’t see a lot of south asian centered content about jojo in general! I hope desi and non-desi jojo fans alike enjoy these hcs and if there’s something about desi culture you’d like to know more about I’d love to answer!

Risotto

- My first thought with him was that he starts wearing a lungi around the house as soon as he finds out what they are

- starts using gamucha for his workouts! they’re really convenient

- Loves to hear you sing in your language! Desi ballad music sounds beautiful to him especially coming from you!

- Is willing to try desi food and will not complain about the curry smell at all, won’t mind that you eat with your hands

- He loves spicy food so he most likely enjoys any curry but especially loves how spicy vindaloo

- willing to watch bollywood movies with you just to spend time together

- If you ask him to learn your language he’ll be happy to, won’t even ask you to learn his unless you really want to

- your family would probably be scared as hell of him and the aunties might talk behind your back but he pays no mind. They eventually like how polite and helpful he is.

- overall, indulges in your culture as much as you want him to! He’d also be happy to share his culture should you be interested

Prosciutto

- He probably asked you to learn Italian so he thinks it’s only fair he learns some of your language as well

- gets suuuper into the cuisine, he loves the beef curry and even though it’s a bit basic he loves biriyani lol (especially kacchi! the beef is so tender)

- gets into desi hair oils lol

- might judge you just a bit at first when you eat with your hands but not for long

- he loves classic noir films and that means in any language so he’d enjoy bengali noir but not much bollywood

- complains that curry stained his finger nails yellow lol also might complain about the house smelling like curry too so he makes sure there’s a lot of ventilation

- like to learn desi recipes with you! finds the flavors intriguing and may even help you cook your fav desi food

- fits in with you family the most out of them all, he is THE typical desi auntie already criticizing everything and everyone all the time lol so he’d get along with them fine. They’d like how good he is with house chores and how he always tells you to be responsible. Smokes with the uncles and gets into their heated political debates

- will buy you traditional clothing that you like, probs likes to see you in panjabi, saree whatever you prefer

- asks you to ask your family about skincare, especially anti aging remedies lmaooo

Pesci

- is actually quite excited to learn your language! in fact, he might bring it up first because he thinks it’s a great bonding activity and he’s intrigued

- lovesss the fish curry dishes the most and wants to learn about fishing culture from your country

- doesn’t mind you eating with your hands and gets you to teach him as well

- loves mishti!! rasgolla, rasmalai, barfi, sandesh, lassi you name it as a milk lover he’d like almost any desi sweets since they’re all made from milk

- doesn’t much understand bollywood and finds it a bit ridiculous but will watch it if you like it

- another person who likes desi ballads, if you sing to him he’ll melt and thinks your voice is the sweetest! is also into just vibing with the music on

- I hate to say it, but aunties will most likely judge him for how he looks : ( but they’ll soon realize he’s actually super sweet and might dote on him. Probably gets intimidated by uncles but it’s alright he gets along with your cousins the best!

- also uses gamucha when working out and uses it during hot days when fishing as well!

Formaggio

- only wants to learn swear words in your language LOL and only teaches you italian swear words

- desi cuisine is pretty good to him but he absolutely LOVES the street food the most

- fuchka, pani puri, chatpati, whatever it is he’ll eat it, the spicier the better. Will challenge you to fuchka eating contest lol

- also likes paneer! hey he’s gonna like cheese in every culture lol

- at last, a person who actually gets into bollywood for real. He loves the drama, comedy, ridiculous action, even the songs!

- gets into bollywood dancing too like literally will go off in the living room dancing to the Dhoom soundtrack with you

- loudly comments when watching bollywood and sometimes enjoys the cheesy romance lmfao

- Your family will know he’s the thug immediately I’m sorry, but my be able to charm them with how much spirit he has when enjoying a good desi function

- another one who smokes with the uncles and also another one who enjoyes wearing lungi at home

- may want to hear your language slip out in bed haha

Melone

- absolutely intrigued by your culture and asks you the most questions about it out of all of them!

- gets into desi astrology lol he probably didn’t know a lot of modern astrology is borrowed from a history of astrology in south asia

- another one who wants to learn how to eat with his hands! He thinks it’s fun and different and likes it better than using utensils

- another person who also likes the sweets! but he gets into desserts like pitha, patishapta, kheer the most

- Also like biriyani quite a lot when it comes to savory food

- doesn’t get into bollywood films but loves the music a whole lot! catch him dancing to saki saki in your living room lol

- another one who also loves traditional wear and thinks you look sexy in it

- gets into desi natural skincare products and remedies, he’s got a bunch of vicks vapo rub and inidian healing clay bottles lmfaoo

- at first your family might get creeped out by him but then finds out his background in biology and immediately asks why didn’t you also become a doctor KJBSDSD chats with the aunties the most!

- asks your grandma and aunties for their skincare secrets

Illuso

- Probably thinks you speaking your language is beautiful and would get into how poetic it is, probably believes it’s a language of love just as much as any European language

- Also likes the spicy food! but mostly loves paratha because of how versatile it is and because it’s like a pastry that you can eat with anything

- might need to get used to eating with hands but eventually likes it more than he realized he would

- actually appreciates bollywood for what it is, genuinely gets into the drama an might even get secretly emotional at the sad stories

- actually has favorite bollywood movies too

- immediately goes to gossip with the aunties they’re surprised at how tall he is but also how much he already knows??

- he’s also polite with your family and they really like his height and compliments him on it that boosts his ego lmfao

- another one that gets into desi hair oils, probably swears by coconut and amla oil now

- also gets into desi fashion himself along with you he genuinely thinks its stylish

Ghiaccio

- demands to know your language and also demands you learn perfect italian, if you’re looking for a linguistic debate buddy in your partner he’s right there

- actually not that partial to desi food and may think italian food is better but he indulges in lentil type dishes (probably like daal makhni a lot)

- yeah he’s another one who would look at you strange for eating with hands but doesn’t mind it eventually when you tell him your culture

- WILL scream at how ridiculous some bollywood films are and how he doesn’t get the humor it’ll get even funnier if you watch desi soap operas and he starts talking about the gfx and sound effects

- but actually loves watching whatever with you because he likes spending time like that

- will listen to you rant in your language without understanding anything but still nod along and agree, you’ll probs do it when he’s ranting in italian lolol

- likes to play desi music out loud when you’re going for a long drive he likes how it creates a serene ambiance it helps him calm down

- yet another gamucha user, he’s skeptical about using it at first but loves how it feels on his skin after a goo workout

- don’t let him hear the aunties gossip he might quip back something rude and absolutely do NOT let him debate with the uncles it’ll turn ugly fast, just try to keep him calm in a desi function lol he might get along with cousins as well!

[sorry I couldn’t add sorbet and gelato i’m not yet sure about their characteristics :( ]

#la squadra x reader #la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #risotto x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #melone x reader #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #ghiaccio x reader #risotto #prosciutto #pesci #ghiacci #melone #illuso #formaggio #hcs #sid writes

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Alt Ending, Part 6

First

Tag: @solangelo252

“I’ll just write one scene”

Good news! It wasn’t acid!

Bad news! It was so much worse!

Marinette had apparently learned nothing from the last time she’d been thrown into painful green liquid. That thing about holding your breath? Yeah, that doesn’t work when you were screaming your whole way down. It also didn’t help that she backflopped and whatever air she’d managed to hold onto left her with a gasp right before she was submerged in the cold green.

Of course, the lack of oxygen was the least of her worries.

Every wound she’d ever gotten had reopened, one at a time.

Burns her hands from the times she’d helped her family in the bakery. Skin got sloughed off her elbows and knees from years of trips and pushes. Her nose cracked under a kickball gone awry. A hole slowly tore itself into her cheek from how often she bit at it.

But that wasn’t the worst part. If it had just been that, she would have been fine. She inched through the water between gasps for air as the Lazarus waters churned to keep her head under, searching desperately for shore through all the green, but it wasn’t to be. She was distracted by the end of the first minute by a whole new world of pain.

She had forgotten about most of the akuma stuff. Call it selective memory or repression or whatever, but now it was coming back in literally excruciating detail. All the times she had missed jumps on patrols and snapped another part of her leg in half. Her trademark yoyo’s string dug into the skin of her fingers, threatening to cut off her fingers and even occasionally managing. A mind controlled Chat’s Cataclysm, setting every cell in her arm alight before killing them entirely.

Levity came in the form of being a Gotham vigilante. At that point punches and kicks and slaps and even the odd slash with a knife were nothing in comparison to a Cataclysm --.

A chunk was torn out of her side and she cried out. The bullet buried itself in her, that wasn’t what hurt the most. The area around the bullet was torn to shreds and steaming and generally just everything skin should not be doing.

She knelt in the water and pressed her hand to the wound, taking deep breaths of the green for the first time in a while and remembering that that was a bad idea when her vision threatened to go black.

No time to think about that, though!

She was mercilessly pulled back to her old pains as she felt something cold pressed to the side of her head. A blade dug under the skin, pushing down and sawing through the cartilage of her ears, taking the pinna with it. The last sounds she ever properly heard were the screams tearing themselves from her throat. Fingers scraped the wounds as she begged and pleaded for him to stop, digging into the frayed skin and fractured bones until it pulled out its prize.

The acid was back. It ate at her skin and pushed itself down her throat and into where her ears had been and sept into every inch of her until she could feel nothing except for pain. Every nerve ending screamed for an end to it, for death to take her finally.

And then it was gone. And she, foolishly, hoped it was over. After all, that was a perfectly viable death. She could have absolutely died in that moment, the acid could have dissolved everything of use or suffocated her until her body finally gave out.

But then came the thirst.

And, somehow, the thirst was the worst part.

At least with everything else it was something she had dealt with, it was things she knew she could get through. She’d done it before, she’d endured it, and that was fine. But the hunger was different. She’d spent those last few days completely out of it. Mostly lost in a world where her problem was less the fact that she was slowly dying of dehydration and more that everyone in her life thought she was stupid and useless and more trouble than she was worth.

And she almost missed that. Her constant nightmares had made her more or less numb to that by this point.

Instead, she felt the slow gnawing at what the acid had left of her stomach. Her throat torn to shreds, her mouth hopelessly dry despite the water that she was drowning in. The fatigue taking over every part of her until she could no longer fight against the pit holding her under. Every cell in her body seemed to give out, one by one. They knew it was useless, that she was useless, that there was no point in hoping SHE of all people could get her hands on it in time. Lidded eyes slowly, painfully, raised to look at the shore only a few feet away. She tried to force herself to grab onto something beneath her despite the fact that she was shaking so badly she knew it was impossible, tried to drag herself the last bit…

She slumped forward, gone before her head had even hit the bottom.

She woke up to fingers trailing through her hair, slowly and gently pulling knots out of damp locks.

And then they pulled their hands out.

She was allowed to roll off the person’s lap to cough and sputter and gasp until the bulk of the water was out of her lungs. Even after she’d managed to expel it, she felt weak and shaky. She refused to move out of the position she was in, forehead pressed to the cool rock in the cave, knees tucked under her, hands covering the back of her neck and head protectively. She couldn’t care less that she was touching her own lung water, that there was still a steady trail dripping from her parted lips. At least when she was like this she didn’t have to face whatever had happened to her in the time since she’d passed out.

“Marinette?” Said Damian from somewhere near her, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it.

She gave him a cough as an answer.

She took one last, shaky breath of semi-fresh air and then forced her eyes open.

Yep, that was a puddle of lung water. She looked down at the rock beneath her, taking in the ugly green tint that the waters cast upon it.

The shivering wouldn’t stop. She didn’t know whether it was her weak muscles or the intense cold that had soaked into her bones.

A hand rested upon her back and she forced herself to look over at Duke. He looked at her, concern etched in every line of his green face.

Wait, green?

She blinked a few times to try and get the last of the water that would be in her eyes out, but it didn’t seem to be getting any better. Frustrated, she brought her hands up to try and rub the green out.

It wasn’t working.

She rubbed harder, started trying to almost pull off her skin and might have even popped her eyes out if hands hadn’t caught her wrists and pulled them away from her face.

She looked up at Damian for a few minutes, taking in the odd tint in her vision that made his skin a sickly color. She felt like up, but there didn’t seem to be anything in her stomach to throw up with.

“How’re you feeling?” Asked Damian carefully, still not releasing her.

Her irritation spiked and she wrenched her hands free. “Fine, thanks.” She had to tear the short words from her throat, it was raw and scratchy and she hated speaking but she continued on regardless: “I’m not a civvie, Dami, you don’t have to pretend like you care.”

He reeled back like he’d been slapped -- well, no, she’d seen him take far more than a slap without flinching, but you get the point -- and she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Still, she forced a “sorry” through tight lips. He hardly seemed perturbed by just how fake the apology was, probably used to it considering he had as many siblings as he had, and left to go talk to his mother.

She flopped back onto the stone despite the fact that it was too cold, that SHE was too cold, and just laid there. She glared at some stalactites on the ceiling like they had personally offended her.

Duke’s face carefully poked its way into her vision and she looked up at him for a minute before sighing and reaching a hand towards him. He got the idea, locking his hand with hers and pulling her to shaky feet. She leaned against him heavily, head resting against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize… I didn’t think it would be that bad...”

She shook her head slightly against his shoulder and he let himself trail off.

Damian and Talia were speaking in Arabic. Marinette couldn’t translate most of it, but she got the general gist. Damian was saying thanks over and over again (one of the few words she’d managed to catch onto in Arabic outside of swears) and Talia’s hand motions assured that it was fine. Damian hesitated slightly before wrapping his mother in a hug and, though she tensed up at first and seemed unsure what to do, she carefully returned it.

Marinette felt like she was intruding. Her gaze fell to the floor.

Oh. Someone had taken her miraculous off of her, she realized as she looked down at herself. She wore one of Jason’s hoodies and a pair of Cass’s old sweatpants, both stolen from their owners. A hand came up to touch her hair and she noted absently that it was still pushed out of her face with a cloth headband from when she was doing her skincare routine right before the incident with the Rogues. It was like nothing had ever happened.

Honestly, it was almost weird to see casual clothes on herself rather than the swing-style dress she’d been wearing for who knows how long --.

Huh. She wondered if Kaalki was okay. She hoped so, she would have felt awful if the kwami had gotten hurt because of overuse.

She looked at Duke to ask, and found him stressing over something on his phone. She tried to peek over his shoulder and pouted when he angled the phone away and continued to type out a message.

“Dukeeeeeeee. Duke. Duke. Duuuuuke. Duke. Duke,” she whined to be annoying.

He didn’t answer outside of moving the hand on her shoulder up to cover her mouth. She licked his hand and saw disgust flicker across his face before he brought his hand up to try and wipe her spit off on her forehead. She recoiled and pressed back against the offending hand, holding him off.

They continued on like this for a good minute before Damian sidled up between them and forced them apart.

“You’re both children.”

Marinette huffed a little and clung onto him, partially to be annoying and partially because she still felt horribly weak and cold. He seemed annoyed but he supported her weight as they started walking back through the compound.

“Dami, you’re the youngest one here. If we’re children what does that make you?”

“A baby,” said Duke, pocketing his phone.

Damian’s face burned red and he clicked his tongue. “I’m hardly younger than either of you.”

“Three months is a long time,” Marinette said wisely.

“Three years is even longer,” Duke said, even wiser.

A scowl made its way across the least wise person’s face. “Why do I put up with either of you?”

“Because you love us,” said Marinette just as Duke said “Because you’re a softy”.

Duke grinned and held up a hand for her to high five and she did so, only to regret it when she was forced to remember that there had been spit on that hand. He smirked at her disgust. She vaguely considered murder.

Duke’s amusement slowly disappeared and he looked at Damian. “They’re on their way. Should get here within a few hours.”

Damian cringed.

Marinette buried her face in his shoulder and closed her eyes, considering everything. She doubted that when they said ‘they’ they weren’t including Bruce. Even if she didn’t have her quick and easy murder method anymore, she could still be deadly. Then again, she would have to fight off however many batfamily members just to get to him and by the point she did so -- IF she even did so -- she would be exhausted and easy for Bruce to subdue.

Hm. It was worth a shot, at least.

Marinette stared at the suitcase on the ground. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Mari, you look dead on your feet -- don’t laugh I’m being serious -- and if anyone saw us walking you through town... it would be bad.”

Her slight smile at the unintentional joke slipped into a frown as she bit the inside of her cheek. “What if I say I have trauma related to suitcases?”

“Considering you’ve already been in it and we just watched all your trauma -- or, at least, all the things you would consider to be trauma -- play out, I’m going to have to say I don’t quite believe you.”

A dark look passed over her face and, for a moment, she swore the world looked just a little more green.

But, then, she held her hands out and let them tie them off with some rope.

(Of course, she knew how to get out of it, but it would be a pain and, really, what would she do if she could get out? Suitcases aren’t exactly easy to get out of from the inside.)

“Sorry about this, Mari,” said Duke.

She hummed her understanding.

They closed the suitcase over her. Without a giant dress in the way, it was actually a pretty roomy space. Still, it took a lot of shifting to find a position where her bony knees and elbows didn’t dig into her. This didn’t last long. Now that she didn’t have the warmth of another person she was unbearably cold. Bony limbs be damned, she wasn’t going to freeze to death in a suitcase of all things.

Once she stopped shifting around they started walking. She rested her head against the suitcase, eyes struggling to remain open, and found they were talking about food in the areas around them. She wanted food. She told them so. There was a beat where they stilled and then Damian promised to get her something.

Alright. So they could hear her in there. That took away the calling the police option, but that didn’t matter much.

Out of boredom, she pulled her phone from her pocket and clicked it on. To her surprise, it actually worked.

She stared at the home screen for a moment. She and Jason were flipping off the camera while Tim looked on, unamused. She’d used to think the picture was cute. Now, though, with her vision tinted green and the knowledge of what she was going to do... she found tears springing to her eyes. She looked at the screen for just a second longer to check the time -- 15:00 -- and then turned the phone around and used it as a light.

With nothing else to do as she waited for things to pan out the way she wanted, she examined herself. It was weird to look at her hands and see them in perfect shape. Old scars from the oven and repeated punching without proper protection on her knuckles and lines from her yoyo were all gone. No hint of anything that had ever happened to her. It felt weird. Like she wasn’t really herself anymore.

She tripped out on that for a while until she heard voices.

Alright, go time.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket. She doubted anyone would think to check her for one.

She carefully pulled her headband down and slipped it in her mouth, then knotted the fabric behind her head a few times until it was so tight it almost hurt.

Marinette took a deep breath and then started screaming through her makeshift gag.

Three things happened in rapid succession: the light chatter around the three of them petered out, Duke swore loudly, and then the bats broke into a run.

Despite their best efforts, though, they got caught. It’s kind of hard to run and do parkour when you’re toting along a suitcase, especially if you don’t want to hurt the person inside. The suitcase rolled to a stop and she could hear mad scrambling as Duke and Damian struggled to get away without risking their civilian identities.

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut and started thinking.

The bats were going to hate her for this. She was going to have to actually put in effort to die now instead of having an instant death via taking off her miraculous. Harley probably didn’t know that she was still alive (or, rather, around, because the ‘alive’ thing was very recent) and Marinette couldn’t even be sure she cared.

Tears sprang to her eyes. Good, good. Keep thinking about that.

Harley was going to be so pissed at her for taking so long. Harley would always love Joker more than her. Harley was probably just using her for her own gain. Harley didn’t care about her and never would, or at least not in the way Marinette so desperately wanted her to.

By the time the suitcase was opened Marinette was full on sobbing. The sudden influx of light certainly didn’t help the situation.

She whimpered and shielded her eyes despite wanting oh-so-desperately to step out into the sun and bask in its rays for the first time since before Harley.

Some god must have been listening to her for once, because a pair of hands carefully lifted her out of the suitcase. She slowly, almost reluctantly, looked up at her ‘savior’. The kind-looking woman had moved to block most of the sunlight and the little parts that escaped surrounded her head like a halo. Marinette gave her a wet smile as her gag and the rope binding her hands were removed.

The woman spoke to her in Arabic and, though she didn’t understand any of it, the soft edge to her voice made her feel so safe. Marinette choked out a sob and allowed the woman to gather her into a hug.

Briefly, her gaze lifted from the woman’s shoulder and she saw Damian and Duke getting held back by some random citizens. If the civilians had seen the watery smile on her face they would have thought it was just happiness at finally be saved. The two bats knew better, the slightly sour looks on their faces told her so.

A hand came up to run through her hair and she buried her face in the woman’s shoulder as she began to cry even harder.

The officer was holding Duke and Damian at gunpoint as two citizens worked at trying to cuff them. He only put his gun back in its holster after he was sure that they weren’t going to be running anytime soon.

Marinette didn’t know for sure what the cop thought was going on, but she had a few guesses. After all, she worked in law enforcement too, however unofficially. If she’d seen someone in her state -- clothes hanging off her too-thin frame and shaking like a leaf after being pulled out of a suitcase -- she would have instantly assumed trafficking or, at the very least, kidnapping.

Knowing what the officer was expecting, she also knew exactly how to play into that idea. Really, the boys had had no chance.

“She’s our sister!” Damian tried to argue.

The officer, Ali, looked at the three of them with a skeptical frown. Damian might have passed as her family, they were both mixed white and chinese (he was also part arab, but half-siblings exist), but Duke definitely couldn’t.

“Did you know these men before… all of this, ma’am?”

She sniffled and brought a hand up to swipe under her eyes. Technically, if she were actually a trafficking victim, the answer would have probably been ‘yes’, most trafficking cases started out on the victim’s terms. She also knew that, when victims were truthful about this, they often got thrown into jail for prostitution. She didn’t feel like getting thrown in a cell.

“N-no. I was just going to work and they -- and they --,” she cut herself off, dissolving into sobs.

Ali pulled her into a hug and she tried to ignore the fact that his hand was definitely too low.

She could practically FEEL Damian and Duke’s annoyance. This looked bad for them, all three of the present bats knew it, and the real explanation wouldn’t be believed.

The two boys were filed into the back of a police car and Marinette was allowed to sit shotgun.

The cop offered her a shock blanket and, despite not being in shock, she took it. She was so unbearably cold despite her thick layers and the fact that it was the middle of summer.

She watched the cop walk around the car to the driver’s seat and everything was quiet as they started off towards the police station.

“You’re an asshole, Mari,” Duke said in French.

She glanced at the cop, but he just looked confused. Fair enough. English was a pretty common second language around the world because of business and tourism, but no one learned French if they didn’t have to.

She gave a wet laugh. “Yeah.”

The cop frowned. “What are they saying?”

She waved him off. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not!”

She fought back a bit of laughter and turned in her seat to look at the two of them. “What’d you boys really expect?”

“You’ve never tried to leave before, forgive us for thinking that wouldn’t change. It’s called…” Damian frowned for a moment before finding the term he needed: “Learned helplessness.”

“Tell me you didn’t pay attention in psychology without telling me. Learned helplessness is where you try a bunch of different things and nothing works so you learn not to try again. I never tried anything.”

“Oh so NOW she knows about psychological trauma,” complained Duke.

A true frown made its way across her face. “I’ve always known about psychological trauma. It was Hawkmoth’s whole thing in Paris.”

“She knows intellectually, she’s just woefully unable to apply the teachings to herself,” said Damian.

Marinette scowled at him. “Harley. Didn’t. Traumatize. Me.”

All she got were two eyerolls and she huffed, turning back around in her seat and crossing her arms. The boys switched languages and, after checking to make sure she didn’t understand, started chatting.

She slowly started to nod off, head resting against the center console. She was without her normal coffee, and she kind of regretted not waiting for Duke and Damian to get food before enacting her plan, and she’d more or less cried herself out earlier…

The only thing keeping her from sleeping was Ali’s hand, resting right on top of her head. She wanted to think it was innocent. In her experience, cops almost never were.

The chattering cut off when they came to a stop and she slowly lifted her head up and looked around, expecting a police station. Instead, she found a normal red light (or, at least, she was pretty sure that it was red, her vision was still tinted green). She frowned a little and turned to look at Duke and Damian…

They had disappeared from the backseat.

She shot up and hissed a curse. Of course they could break out of police cars -- now that she was thinking about it, she was pretty sure Duke had mentioned doing it before.

Ali looked back and she saw his face change from calm to confused to annoyed. He tried to smooth his expression back into a neutral one and assure her that everything was fine, but she didn’t really care about him anymore.

She reached into his belt and pulled his gun out of its holster. Safety off. Finger on the trigger. Evade the hand trying to take it away. Push him back with a foot until he’s pressed against a window. Check that he can’t move much. Point at his head.

“Thanks for the help,” she chirped. “Or, at least, for trying.”

She pulled the trigger.

Blood and gore splattered everywhere. Point blank range always had that effect. The shock blanket managed to keep most of it off of her, but some got on her face and in her hair.

She thought she’d be more disgusted. If not with herself then at least with the blood. Instead, she reached a hand up slowly to rest over where the blood had hit. It was… warm. She hadn’t expected that she could ever feel warm again.

She slowly looked at the body. It was gushing blood all over her foot and she found she almost didn’t care. She almost found herself smiling. It was soaking through her old sneakers, warming her in a way nothing else had since she'd been dunked in the Pit.

And then the color… kwami. It wasn’t green, it wasn’t brown or black like what normally happens when you mixed red and green, it was RED.

A sickening smile finally made its way across her face.

The screaming started. She pulled herself from her haze, released the body and watched it slump. Right. This was going to suck if she got arrested.

She shed her blanket and leaned over the body, checking for and taking everything she could use. Taser. Extra bullets. A baton. Tear gas. Wallet…

Yeah, that was everything, she was pretty sure. She, reluctantly, wiped the still-wet blood off her hands to pull her hood up and cover her splattered face and then slipped out the door. No one stopped her -- probably because of the gun in her hands -- and she was allowed to disappear down an alley.

Alright. She was free.

She wasn’t FREE free, obviously, the bats would find her eventually. But she had some time out. What should she do first?

… she should probably get the blood off. Getting arrested would suck.

She slipped out the other side of the alley and started weaving her way through the city in search of a gas station. There were a good amount in Tibet, so it didn’t take too long to find one. She ducked into it to wash the remaining blood off her face and hands and, after being prompted to buy something by a clerk in return for being allowed the pleasure of using their dingy bathrooms, bought a tiny bag of chips.

Then she was back to walking aimlessly. She made sure to switch directions often, occasionally even going back the way she’d just come. The less predictable her movements the better.

She nibbled at the chips as she went. She’d only bought them to get the cashier off her ass, but she actually was pretty hungry. She had to fight herself not to scarf the entire thing down.

Right, basic needs have been met, what next?

She pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the time. 20:00. The bats were definitely in the city.

She hesitated slightly. They probably assumed her phone was dead, even she had, so they probably hadn’t started tracking her yet…

She swallowed back her fear. She needed to do this before one of the bats realized and actually started tracking her.

A few clicks later, she was pressing her phone to her ear.

It didn’t even ring once before she got an answer: “Marinette?”

“Maman,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

Marinette could practically hear the way her mother’s shoulders slumped in relief. She rested her head back against the wall, tears springing to her eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day.

“We thought you were…” Her mother didn’t dare complete the thought aloud.

Marinette held back the ‘Well, I was, but I got better’ that was on the tip of her tongue. Her mother didn’t know about her activities as Ladybug and she was never going to. Marinette took a vow to protect when she started heroism, and that definitely extended to her parents.

“I’m alive. Surprise,” she said after a moment’s consideration.

Sabine gave a little laugh and Marinette didn’t care if it was forced because it was HERS. A sob built in her throat.

“I hope you know you owe me more explanation than just that, young lady. It’s almost been a year! Your father and I --.” Sabine stopped herself and softened her tone. “We’ve been so worried. Are you okay?”

She swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m... fine. And… I can’t explain, there’s just so much and… yeah. It’s fine, I’m fine, everything’s fine. I just needed to hear your voice again.”

Her mother hesitated. “That sounds an awful lot like you’re about to disappear again.”

“I am,” she confirmed, because lying would hurt her mother more in the long run. Still, she almost wished that she could have lied because listening to her mother sob was almost unbearable. “I’m sorry. I can’t talk long. I just wanted to call and tell you guys that… that I’m okay. And that I love you.”

Her mother’s breath caught.

Marinette glared at the ground.

She waited for her mother to get her breathing under control.

“I love you, too, sweetie. Would you like to talk to Pere?”

She hesitated and then mumbled a no. She couldn’t. Talking to her mother was hard, but at least her mother was practical. Her mother knew that Marinette wasn’t going to change what she was doing. Her mother knew that Marinette was doing what she felt like she must.

Her father, though, her father would plead with her. He’d promise to protect her. He’d promise that she could come home, that they could deal with it together, that everything is easier to handle when you do it with others. And she just might believe him.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

The phone slipped from her hand and she barely paid it any mind as it shattered on the concrete below.

She slowly slid to the ground beside her phone and rested her head in her hands. Tears that she’d been holding back since she started the call spilled from between her fingers. Her breath came to her in shaky gasps that were definitely not enough in the long run and her lungs hurt as she struggled for air between sobs but it was nothing compared to drowning in acid so she was fine.

No. Not fine. Fine implied that things were, if not going distinctly ‘well’, going vaguely in the right direction. Marinette felt like she’d seen a fork in a path and then ignored both choices in favor of whacking a new path through the forest. She knew, somewhere, that she was only getting further and further from where she’d originally intended and yet she couldn’t turn back. Because turning back would mean looking and seeing all the plants she’d killed on her way through the brush that hadn’t even needed to die and she couldn’t face that. She couldn’t. So she kept going. Kept praying that, somehow, she’d find her way back to the path.

So, no, ‘fine’ wasn’t the word. She was… she was dealing. She’d deal.

She took a few more deep, steadying breaths before picking her head up. She needed to leave. Tim would start tracking her soon, if he hadn’t already, and she couldn’t beat all the bats at once.

She chanced one more look at her phone. The call had disconnected and now she was staring at her home screen yet again. The picture of herself smiling at the camera with friends was cracked, her face lost in a spiderweb of broken glass.

Marinette took a deep breath and then brought her fist down on the phone. It shattered and went dark beneath her hand. Blood, warm and red, slowly dripped along her arm and she stuffed it in one of her pockets before she could start dripping on the ground.

She started aimlessly walking around again. She’d find a motel or something after a few hours. For now, she needed to be untraceable.

She knew she should take off her outfit. They were looking for someone in a hoodie and sweats. But she couldn’t. It was the last thing she had of either of them, of any of the bats. Even if they were on different sides, she still cared about them. She still found herself wanting them to be happy.

She just wanted Harley to be happier.

Which meant she was going to have to put some effort in.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

The bats would find her no matter what, it was a given. They had access to pretty much every camera in the world, access to satellites for the things they couldn’t see with the cameras. She could only evade them for so long. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

Which meant that she needed to be the one to decide on when. It would never be an even fight, they had years of experience on her, but she had infinitely better chances if she caught them off guard rather than the other way around. She had to find them before they could find her.

She’d have to go online at a library or something to see if Bruce Wayne came along. Him leaving without much notice would probably draw Vicky Vale’s attention and an article would be made.

If he hadn’t then she’d have to figure out a way back to America. This was the better option, she thought. They wouldn’t expect her to be able to get back easily without a passport and a limited amount of money, so she might just be able to sneak up on Bruce.

If he HAD come along she’d start checking out motels and hotels. He’d get a bunch of rooms that were right next to each other, preferably ones that were linked together. She’d have to check for rooms with the lights on and blinds closed. Painstaking, but it could work.

Of course, it was also very likely that Bruce had some sort of safehouse here, or that she just wouldn’t happen upon the right hotel, and she wouldn’t be able to find him that way. If that were the case...

Her hands slipped into her pockets and she felt her fingers brush over the cold metal of her gun.

Well, she knew one way to attract a bat.

#i didnt know what iteration of lazarus pit i wanted to do for a while #and then my dumb acab brain was like 'kill a cop!!'#and so i did #it was fun #as for the rest of the chapter idk if i like it #too tired to change anything tho #alternate ending #alternative ending #alt ending #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #joker #harley quinn #harleen quinzel

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 4 years ago

Text

Klainetober day 28

Prompt 28: Scream

Summary: Two sources say the Anderson-Hummel House is haunted

Notes: ending inspired by this video: https://twitter.com/lin_manuel/status/1061008019717275648?lang=en

AO3

Blaine is playing their baby grand piano in the living room when it happens. A scream from Lizzie’s bedroom and a slam like something has collapsed. Instantly, Kurt is running from the kitchen and Blaine grabs Hepburn, who was playing with his trucks beside the piano, before following his husband down the hall.

Hepburn on his hip, Blaine leans against Lizzie’s doorframe looking into the room.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Kurt is asking her. “Let me check for boo-boos.”

Lizzie extends her arms but Kurt finds no blood or torn skin.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Blaine asks.

“My dollhouse fell,” she says, pointing at the wooden house.

“I think daddy means why did it fall?” Kurt clarifies.

Lizzie shrugs.

“Did you pull it down?” Blaine asks, gently.

“No.” She shakes her head.

“It didn’t just fall on its own, Lizzie,” Kurt tells her.

The aggressive way she nods her head says otherwise.

“But it did!”

“Lizzie,” Kurt cuts in.

“It did, papa,” she swears.

“How do you explain that exactly?” Blaine asks.

Lizzie thinks for a moment. “Ghost,” she decides.

Blaine and Kurt share a look of amusement. Hepburn fusses demanding to be put down so he can crawl back to his cars. Blaine tends to him while Kurt fixes the dollhouse.

Later that night, Kurt is the last one to bed. He’s turning off lights in their living room, checking that the door is deadbolted, and making the coffee for the next morning. Just as he’s shutting off the last light, he hears something drop in the kitchen.

He flicks the lights back on and sees Hepburn’s plastic sippy cup on the tiles. Kurt picks it up and places it back by the sink. Lights out again, Kurt makes his way to the bedroom. But there’s another sound.

Kurt walks back to the kitchen again and sees the same blue cup on the ground. He must’ve put it too close to the edge of the counter. Though, he’s fairly certain it was close to the gray backsplash. This time, he puts it in the sink. Once more, he turns off the lights and heads for the bedroom. For a third time, the noise happens. The same sippy cup on the ground.

If anyone asks, Kurt definitely did not leave the cup on the ground and sprint to the bedroom.

“In a rush to see me?” Blaine asks, stepping out of the bathroom. “You’re out of breath.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, shutting the bedroom door.

He kisses Blaine and goes to brush his teeth. Luckily, Kurt already completed his nighttime skincare. When he crawls under the covers, Kurt snuggles up against Blaine’s body.

“What’s up?”

“I think Lizzie was right.”

“I don’t think sour peach rings count as fruit, Kurt.” Blaine kisses the top of his head.

“Not about that,” Kurt says, seriously. “About her dollhouse.”

“That it fell on it’s own. I think she pulled it forward again,” Blaine tells him.

“No, it was a ghost.”

“Kurt?” Blaine asks. “Are you being serious right now? The boy who didn’t believe in any type of afterlife is now holding ghosts accountable for mischief in our daughter’s bedroom.”

Kurt lightly slaps his husband.

“I am being serious.”

“I think you need some sleep, babe.”

“But the sippy cup, Blaine,” Kurt tries to explain, “three times, it fell three times.”

“Well, you were always the clumsy one.”

“Not true. Who broke their wrist while playing superheroes last spring?”

“Okay, not my finest moment but who nearly fell down the subway steps because they were late for a train only to catch themselves midway and then get their foot caught in a sewer grate after getting off said train.”

“That was one time, Anderson.”

“I rest my case,” Blaine says. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

The following morning, Blaine picks up the sippy cup that’s on the kitchen floor before bringing his husband coffee in bed. Soon after, Lizzie wanders in, still in her bright pink princess pajamas, and climbs on top of the bed for morning cuddles. Almost as if he knows the rest of the family is snuggling without him, Hepburn cries out from his room.

Blaine volunteers to get him from the crib. The little boy grins at his daddy and makes “grabby hands” to tell Blaine he wants to be picked up.

“Morning,” Blaine says, walking closer. “How did you sleep, honey?”

Hepburn just keeps smiling in reply since he’s not quite old enough to talk yet.

“Let’s go see papa and your big sister,”

A half-hour later, when Lizzie’s stomach growls so loud she falls over in laughter, they start their day. Breakfast, getting dressed and settling into their routines. Kurt is in his home office sewing so Blaine has set Lizzie up with crayons and a fairytale coloring book in the living room and Hepburn is in his favorite spot by the piano with a yellow pickup truck in one hand and a single goldfish in the other. Blaine is sitting at the piano, attempting to compose something new but his fingers have another idea.

They begin to play a familiar theme song. So, familiar in fact that when prompted with “who ya gonna call?” Lizzie is quick to exclaim: “Ghostbusters!”

“When there’s something strange in your neighborhood, who ya gonna call?” Blaine sings.

“Ghostbusters!”

More keys are accompanied by footsteps from the hallway, Kurt appears from around the corner.

“I see you’re making fun of me in here,” he says, putting his hands on his hips.

Blaine’s only reply is to smile and sing: “when there’s something weird and it don’t look good, who ya gonna call?”

#klainetober #klainetober halloween fic extravaganza #klaine fanfic #my fics

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neoneversleeps · 5 years ago

Text

bad guy | j.jh

pairing: jaehyun x reader - bad guy

genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings: cheating, swearing, semi-public sex, fingering, oral (female recieving)

description:

The damn leather jacket that hangs over your desk chair is what compels you to finally come face to ace with the man whose heart you broke months ago. The outcome of the encouter however, is not what you had expected in the least.

(this fic is kind of a twist on bad guy by billie eilish)

words: ~5k

playlist ⟡

You feel the blood trickle down your nose before you even feel the impact. It takes a few seconds to actually register that you’ve just been punched in the face. Slaps were a common occurrence but actually being punched? Now that was a new one. You had to hand it to her, she had a mean right hook.

A chuckle escapes your mouth as your hand wipes off the blood on your nose. You could hear the murmurs of shocked onlookers around you. The girl seems even more infuriated after you chuckle, face contorted in anger as she opens her mouth to scream at you.

"You slut! Making out with my boyfriend for everyone to see?

You simply roll your eyes at her. This wasn't the first time you had heard those words. You hadn't really ran any background checks on the long list of hookups you had these past couple months. You couldn't bring yourself to care much, either.

"Who do you think you are, going around kissing other girls boyfriends?"

You cock your head at her, slightly narrowing your eyes.

"Shouldn't you be asking your boyfriend why he's going around kissing girls that aren't his girlfriend?"

She pauses, suddenly at a loss for words. A few seconds later she stomps her foot, not unlike a toddler during a temper tantrum, huffs indignantly and storms off, boyfriend in tow, tail between his legs.

You decide to head to the nearest bathroom, behind the club, to inspect the damage. You catch some stares as you round the corner, the people there clearly finding your bloodstained appearance more interesting than whatever else they were talking about before. You didn't shy away from any of the glances, choosing instead to sneer back at them, which made them turn their heads away without a fault.

You near the outdoor bathroom, a small rectangular construction with only one meek bathroom stall and a poor excuse for a mirror. Closing the door behind you, you lean forward on the sink and inspect your nose. It could look worse for wear, nothing broken at least. The bad lighting and smudged mirror didn't exactly let you see the full damage, but there was no cracking and no continuous pain so that was a positive. You figure it must be just a few burst blood vessels. You splash some water on your face, cleaning off the already drying blood. You look back up at your reflection. The shirt was ruined though. Bummer, you didn’t own a lot of white shirts that you liked and unfortunately, you did actually like this one.

Slightly sighing in frustration, you leave the stall to go hail a cab, ready to head home for the night.

The door of your small city apartment clicks shut as you enter. You flick on the lights and glance around. The place was in disarray to no surprise. Every time you claimed you’d tidy the whole thing up, something more important always seemed to come up. Truthfully, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You glance at the clock as you stroll into your kitchen. 2:39am. Perfect time for some plain old buttered toast. You hadn’t drank much, the alcohol levels in your blood probably close to zero at this point. Your stomach, however, was growling in demand for food. So you get to work, taking two slices of bread out of the freezer and placing them in your hand-me-down toaster.

After finishing your honourable 3am meal, you slowly shuffle past your bedroom door and into the adjacent bathroom. You discard your clothes, making a mental note to throw the bloodied shirt away instead of just throwing it in with the wash.

As you step under the shower, the warmth of the water envelops you. None of your neighbors in the apartment complex showered at this hour, so it was always a guarantee for hot water. You stand in the stream for a while, letting your muscles relax and letting the water wash aways all your sins, worries and fears. Of course the water couldn't actually wash those away, but you liked to believe it could linder them. Make them disappear even for a little while.

The bathroom floor tiles are cold against your feet after you finally decide you'd soaked up enough water for the night (morning, technically). You dried off your body, wrapping the towel around your figure before wrapping another one around your hair. You made use of the few skincare products you had for your nightly (again, more accurately morning) routine.

You pad out into your bedroom, removing the towel from your hair and trying to dry said hair with it as best you could. Your eyes flick to the jacket hanging on your desk chair in the corner of your still dark room, illuminated only by the path of light coming from the open bathroom door. It was an old dark brown leather jacket, surely worth a lot when first bought. The years of use have worn it at its edges but it still shines pristinely, leather well kept.

A face flashes before your eyes. The owner of that very jacket. Jung Jaehyun. The one boy who had managed to get a little too close for comfort. The thought of him leaves a bitter taste of hurt and regret in your mouth. A twinge of guilt twists your insides as well.

You had been meaning to give the jacket back to him, tired of it being a constant reminder of your past relationship. You had been saying that for months now though, yet you never got around to actually get it back to him. Coward. the voice in your head helpfully provides the real reasoning behind not returning the jacket. You would one day. In fact you would go tomorrow. Today? Ok, realistically that wouldn't happen. You settled for the coming week. The coming week you would return Jung Jaehyun’s jacket.

Content with your decision, you change into your pyjamas and slip into bed, the clock on the nightstand reading 4am.

It’s a wednesday afternoon two weeks after the bloody nose incident that you finally walk down the street where the garage that Jaehyun works at is located. Ok so maybe you didn't quite adhere to the deadline you set for yourself, but you were here now, right?

You were slowly approaching Jaehyun’s workplace. The buzzing sounds of various machinery filtering in through your ears. The garage always had its doors open, probably willing more wind to enter the hot work space. The afternoon sun stands proud in its place, rays casting a golden light onto the city and pleasantly warming its citizens. Even though you appreciate the balmy caress of the sunlight on your skin, you imagine being stuck working on a car in this heat would be most uncomfortable. Jaehyun never seemed to mind however, you couldn't remember him ever complaining about his job. He was good at what he did, although he did always talk about rising up in the ranks. He didn't want to work at a garage for the rest of his life, and you couldn't blame him. You were sure he would achieve his goals however. If there was one word you would use to describe Jaehyun, it was determined.

Your eyes search the area as you arrive in front of the garage. There’s a nervous feeling in your gut the longer your eyes search, the jacket in your backpack seemingly getting heavier by the second. Maybe you shouldn't have come.

You’re about to turn on your heel but before you can do so, your eyes catch sight of a brown tuft of hair behind the car on the far end. You would recognize that soft brown hair anywhere.

Your feet stroll over to the car furthest away from you. A red 1966 shelby. Nice model, a vintage mustang, the apparently freshly redone paint-job glistening in the afternoon sun. Now, you wouldn't consider yourself a cars connoisseur by any means, but your granddad had taught you to have an eye for value.

“Beautiful car.” You say, your fingers lightly hovering above the shiny red paint, careful not to touch. The man behind the car gets up with a chuckle. “Yeah, well, she's not mine-.” A pause. “Oh, hey, y/n. What brings you here?” The tone of his voice is casual, but obviously forced. It stings just a bit. He stands there just as you remembered him. His well-built frame stands tall, defined muscles visible in the black tank top he was wearing, honey brown fringe damp from the sweat falling just below his eyebrows. His hair had grown a little since you last saw him.

“Oh, you know. Just passing through this area and thought I might stop by. Maybe looking to buy some car air fresheners.” His face tilts, eyes narrowingly only a millimeter. “Uh huh. You don't own a car though?”

Shit. “Right well… it's for a friend. Her car always smells musty.” You recovered rather well in your defense, able to play it off with a chuckle.

“Um, okay. Is that really all? Because if yes I should get back to work before-” “No!” Okay, that was way too quick, you mentally reprimand yourself. Clearing your throat, you continue.

“No, actually, that's not all. I was wondering… if maybe you would like to go get a drink sometime?” What!? What the hell was that? You were supposed to give him his leather jacket back, not ask him out.

Even Jaehyun looks surprised at your question. His hands fly up to his hair, running them through it a couple of times, a habit you had seen countless times before. “Well I, um-” “Jaehyun!” You heard the rather shrill voice of a girl coming from your right. Soon enough the girl that had called his name was now plastered to his side, hands curling around his arm.

“Who’s this, Jaehyun?” The fake tone to her voice is so obvious you want to roll your eyes.

“Oh uh, Y/n is an old...friend of mine. Y/n, this is my girlfriend Nina.” She sticks her hand out and you take it, albeit begrudgingly, while forcing a smile. “It's nice to meet you.” The blonde smiles back, face scrunching up just a little too much to be considered genuine.

“Likewise.” She quips before directing a pout at Jaehyun. “Hyunnie, you promised you’d get off work early to go to that one restaurant I was telling you about.” Hyunnie? You internally shiver in disgust at the pet name. Jaehyun's eyes, which were previously staring at yours, suddenly flit over to Nina’s face.

“Oh yeah, of course. I’ll go get ready and be out in a sec. Why don’t you go wait in the car?” He smiles at her, dimples showing prominently in his cheeks. You hadn't seen those in a while. “Ok!” She says chirpily, leaning up slightly to peck him on the mouth. Suddenly the pit of your stomach boils with anger. Why were you angry? You surely weren’t jealous, were you? No, Y/n. You broke up with him, remember? You ended things.

She turns in your direction, blonde hair swishing around in her high ponytail. “Bye, Y/n!” The lilt in her voice almost made you want to gag but you force out a smile instead and bid her a goodbye as well.

“She’s nice.” Jaehyun almost snorts. Apparently you hadn’t managed to keep the slight disgust out of your voice as well as you had hoped.“She is. I like her.” He says the words as he looks at you. It almost feels like he’s trying to gauge your reaction. You simply nod and give him a tight-lipped smile at first, your hands digging themselves into the pockets of your denim jacket.

“Well, she’s your girlfriend. Isn’t it kind of a given that you like her?” You state more than asks, although you do feel slightly confused now that you thought back on his words. Jaehyun just shrugs nonchalantly.

“Anyways, you heard her.” He jerks his head towards, presumably, the direction of his car. “I'm heading out now.” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, as if considering his options. “About that drink, text me and we can agree on a day. Just as friends though, right?”

It was your turn to be surprised now. You hadn't expected him to actually accept, especially after his girlfriend had interrupted the two of you. It takes you a few stunned seconds before you can respond. “Um, yeah of course. Just as friends.” You scan over his face, curious if you could make out any hidden emotions, but all you can see is Jaehyun’s pleasant smile.

You start to walk backwards, suddenly itching to get out of the now slightly tense and awkward atmosphere. You feel his eyes trail after you. “I’ll text you then. Bye, Jaehyun.” You turn fully after your goodbye, still feeling the burn of his gaze on your back.

“Bye, Y/n.”

You walk home that day in the afternoon sun, a weird feeling brewing deep in your stomach and Jaehyun’s leather jacket still safely stored inside your bag.

You watch the droplets of condensation slowly slide down the side of your glass, thumbs drawing idle circles on the table. Jaehyun should be arriving any minute now. The thought of him makes tiny balls of sweat form at the base of your neck. You’re nervous. Just like the day you went to see him at the garage, you were starting to regret ever texting him in the first place. Thinking that maybe you should've just ignored his acceptance of your invite.

You had tried to, really. But Jaehyun’s name on the message app on your phone had tempted you one too many times. You had caved a few nights prior, asking to meet at a relatively well-known bar in the city and now here you were, sitting alone at a table, leg bouncing in anticipation.

You heave a sigh and take up your phone. Just as you decide to distract yourself with some mindless game, you hear the scrape of a wooden chair from across you.

Jaehyun gives you a smile as he sits down in front of you, prominent dimples poking out. “Sorry I’m late. Got caught up in traffic. Have you been waiting long?”

You shake your head. “No worries, I only just got here about five minutes ago.” Liar. You had been waiting for over half an hour. Jaehyun glances at your glass and raises an eyebrow. “They must have fast service then.”

You don't let the nervous churn of your stomach get to you as you respond. “For a pretty girl sitting alone in a bar? The service is always fast.” You let a small smirk adorn your lips and Jaehyun chuckles at the statement. “Fair enough.”

After a quick glance at his phone screen, Jaehyun directs his attention back at you, leaning on his forearms. “So, how’ve you been?”

You lean back a bit, unconsciously (or more likely consciously) putting space between you and Jaehyun. “Oh you know, going to work, reading up on the news, getting into brawls outside of clubs, the usual.” Jaehyun laughs at what he assumes was a joke. You bite your cheek as a smile finds its way onto your face as well. If only he knew.

It’s ridiculous really, how easy you could fall into conversation with Jaehyun. It feels natural. However in your mind there’s a voice constantly reminding you that this was just what you had come to fear all those months ago. What you had with jaehyun, you had considered it a fling, even though it had felt like a relationship more than you cared to admit.

Your parents failed marriage and the many failed attempts at love on your own part had made you quite opposed to the idea of a relationship. The last time you had been with someone for longer than two weeks had been Jaehyun. You were adamant about keeping feelings out of the mix as best you could, but Jaehyun was a dangerous man. He had found a way to weasel himself into your heart and as soon as you had realised, you shut him out completely.

You wonder why jaehyun was sat in front of you at that moment, an easy smile on his face. When you think back to the night you “broke up”, you recall being rather horrible to him. The hurt expression on Jaehyuns face resurfaces in your mind and you push it down, choosing instead to focus on the conversation.

You laugh genuinely at Jaehyun’s crazy work story and watch how he leans back, the smile on his face making his eyes crinkle up. He was still gazing at you after you finished your little fit of laughter. “What?” You ask, a shy grin pulling at your lips under his gaze.

“I missed your laugh.” You don't fail to notice the way his eyes trace over your face and down over your body, lingering at the curvature of your breasts in your low-cut tee. You shift slightly in your chair and his eyes flick back up to meet yours. You both stare at each other, as if daring the other to back down. You can feel Jaehyun's leg brushing against yours under the table.

Oh, you think, Jaehyun was a dangerous man indeed.

The bathroom wall is cold against your bare ass as Jaehyun slips your jeans further down your legs. You were unsure of how you got here, your memory going hazy after the little staring contest you had earlier. He’s kissing you feverishly, lips travelling up and down the sides of your neck as you claw at his t-shirt covered back. You audibly gasp as you feel his fingers rub at your clit through your panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” You whimper as he grunts in your ear. You had slept and made out with countless people over the past months and yet none of them could make you feel even a fraction of pleasure compared to what you felt whenever Jaehyun touched you.

His mouth trails down further along your body, roughly pushing your t-shirt and bra out of the way to latch onto your nipple, his free hand coming up to play with your other one. Your head falls back against the wall as he grazes your sensitive bud with his teeth, loving the mix of pain and pleasure.

Jaehyun’s hands grab hold of the back of your upper thighs as his face hovers above your heat. He looked up at you through his lashes and you grabbed a fistful of his hair as you urge him on, the ache between your legs nearing unbearable.

A jolt of pleasure shoots up your body as you feel Jaehyun's tongue lick up your slit before pushing his tongue inside of your folds. His hands still work at your clit in small circles, applying just the right amount of pressure to the bud. You bite your lip as you try to hold back the moans that were threatening to spill, this was still a public restroom after all.

“Fuck, Jae.” You curse as he inserts two fingers into your entrance, moving to suck and kiss at your clit. You could perfectly picture his satisfied smile as he hums against your core, once again sending vibrations throughout your body. Gosh, how you had missed this.

As Jaehyun picks up his speed, you feel the knot in your stomach twist tighter, the gasps leaving your mouth becoming higher in pitch. After a few more pumps you feel your walls contract around Jaehyun’s fingers and pure bliss overcomes you, your body going limp, almost sliding down the wall if it weren’t for Jaehyun coming up to support your weight.

“Shit, I missed this so much. I missed you so much.” Jaehyun mumbles in your ear as he turns your body. Now you stand facing the large bathroom mirrors, hips slightly digging into the border of the sink and panties still halfway down your thigh. You stare at your reflection. You look fucked out, hair and clothes in disarray, with a flurry of small marks beginning to form on your neck and Jaehyun slowly kissing down your shoulders. Looking at yourself was like a slap in the face. This was wrong, oh this was all so wrong. You broke up with Jaehyun. Jaehyun had a girlfriend. You were fucking Jaehyun in the bathroom of the bar where you had asked to meet up as friends. Friends.

Shit. Panic floods your body and you know you need to get out. Out. Out. Out. You turn around and promptly push Jaehyun off you, nearly making him topple over in the process.

“We can’t do this! You- I - We- we just can’t!” You make quick of pulling your underwear and jeans, grabbing the purse you had previously discarded and rushing out of the room, Jaehyun still struggling to keep up with the sudden turn of events.

“Y/n!”

You hear his shouts coming from behind you but you don’t stop. Making your way through the tables, you desperately try to smooth down your hair so you wouldn’t look as disheveled. You push open the main door and the cold air of the night hits you as you step out on the streets. A shiver runs down your spine. All of this was wrong.

And all of it was your fault.

It was currently around 8pm and you’re sat on the couch in your apartment, the stark light of the tv screen casting shadows around your dark room. You mindlessly flick through the channels, not really finding anything worth watching. Your eyes keep on wandering towards your phone. All week you had been avoiding Jaehyun as if he were the pest. You Ignored both his calls and his texts. There was a twinge in your gut.

None of this was Jaehyun's fault. You had given him false hope of a relationship and broke it off. You had ignored him for months after. You had asked him out. You had made him cheat on his girlfriend. You were the one that had played with him as if he were some toy.

He cheated on his girlfriend because of you. Granted, you had slept with guys who were in relationships over the past few months, but that was different. You didn't know prior if they were in a relationship or not, they were just a hookup.

But this time, you had actually seen the girlfriend. Talked to her, touched her. And while yes, you had not liked her in the slightest, that didn't justify your actions. You were a cheater.

Just like your dad. Thanks brain, for that helpful reminder. You sigh in frustration at yourself. Maybe you should just go to bed.

You get up and switch off the TV, but just as you are about to head to your room, you hear a knock on the door.

You freeze, unsure of what to do. A few seconds later, the knocks are repeated. Deciding to just see who it is and not stand around in your living room like an idiot, you make your way over to the door.

“I broke up with Nina.”

These are the first words that leave Jaehyun’s mouth, as he stands on your doorstep. You don’t know what to respond in all honesty. Jaehyun worries his lips between his teeth. “Can I come in, please?”

You nod in your stunned silence and step to the side to let Jaehyun through, letting the door click shut behind him. There’s a pause, you don't know what to say and it seems like he doesn't either.

After what feels like an eternity spent in silence, Jaehyun finally turns to face you. “Ok, I’m gonna say something now and… before you say anything in response, please hear me out.” There’s an unsure fluttering in your chest, your heartbeat speeds up as your hands begin sweating slightly. The situation makes you anxious but after a deep breath, you nod at Jaehyun, signaling to him that he could continue.

“I know that what we had a few months back was intended to be nothing but a fling to you. I may not have known it at the time, correction, I had no idea it wasn’t serious for you at the time. We had been together for three months by then. I believed your lies, I’ll even go so far as to admit you fooled me.” He chuckles in attempt to lighten the blow, but its bitter and it makes the guilt in your stomach rise up to your throat like bile.

“I don’t think it was directly your intention to hurt me though. You probably wanted something fleeting, a temporary boyfriend to get your insisting friends off your back. But you fell in love.” You cross your arms defensively on your chest, an innate response to Jaehyun’s accusing statement.

He sighs and pauses for a moment. “You can lie to yourself all you want, Y/n. I know you were in love. I know it because I felt it too. And you realized... and you got scared.” You feel stubborn tears prick at your eyes and turn your gaze towards the now very intriguing pattern of your carpet floor.

“Now maybe this isn’t my place to say but.... but I feel like it is. I know why you’re scared of the possibility of loving someone, of loving me, but this whole agenda you have of pushing away anything that might make you happy is ridiculous.” You can hear the anger in his voice and it pushes you to do something you know you shouldn’t.

“You say that if you know anything about me!” You yell at him and his expression is taken aback for a second before the furrow between his brows reappears.

“Oh, I don’t know anything about you? Will you stop pretending that our relationship, which by the way, was an actual relationship, didn’t happen? Just for one second, can you acknowledge the fact that we had hour long conversations, that we actually shared our feelings? That you’ve told me about the crap you went through.”

Your breathing has become labored. You want to disagree so badly, want to argue that he knows nothing, that he’s wrong. But he wasn’t, and you sure as hell knew it. “Fine!” You scream. “Fine! Okay! I admit it. We did have a relationship! It was real! I did-” You inhale a shake breath, your voice not as strong when you continue. “I do love you and it scares me.” Tears are flowing down your face freely and you don’t hold back, you can’t, not anymore. “I’m so scared because I love you… so much. I love you more than anyone. These past few months, I- I’ve tried e- everything to get my mind off you but I can’t- I can’t and I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry I mess shit up and make you confused and make you cheat-” “Hey, hey, hey” Jaehyun cuts you off as he crosses the space between you, his warm hands cupping both sides of your face. “First of all, the cheating part… we both take blame for that. And the confusion thing, well, it’s true, you did confuse me…a lot but it’s okay because you love me and I love you... and I forgive you.”

You shake your head fiercely and try to pull his hands from your face. “Don’t you get it, Jaehyun? I’m no good for you. I’m… I’m the bad guy.” jaehyun chuckles softly as he rests his forehead against yours, little puffs of his warm breath hitting your face. “You’re not the bad guy, Y/n. You deserve happiness. Will you let me give you that happiness?”

You breathe out deeply through your nose and close your eyes, feeling the anger and frustration at yourself slowly seep out of your body. Jaehyu’s touch relaxes yu and as you open your eyes to look at him, he smiles and leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s a short kiss, sweet and caring and delicate. The kiss is followed by another and another, until they get longer, more heated, more passionate.

Jaehyun’s calloused hands travel around your body with ease. He softly pushes you against the wall and presses his body flush to yours. His kisses trail all over your face, your neck and al the way down to your collarbone. It isn’t long before he hoists you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his middle . Everything feels natural, easy. You let yourself relax fully and fall into his touch. You let him carry you to your bedroom and push you down onto mattress, let his kisses wander further south until your squirming under his hold. You let your sounds of passion echo through your room until late into the night and finally, finally allow yourself to actually feel something.

You’re done holding back from love. You could finally admit what you were repressing for so long.

You love Jung Jaehyun.

You trace the small crack in the wall next to your bed in the dark. It was well past midnight, and yet you’re wide awake. You feel Jaehyun’s arm safely secured around your waist, the warmth of his body behind you seeps into your very soul. The room aroundyou is quiet save for the few times a car outside passes by and the shallow breathing of the man pressed up against you. Some time ago, you would have found that Jaehyun’s arm around your waist felt like a cage, something that weighed you down and tugged at your heart uncomfortable. Now, however, you find comfort in the way his skin feels on yours, the way you can faintly feel his heartbeat against your back. You feel safe.

Your eyes fall to the corner of your room, where the brown leather jacket still lay folded over a chair. You smile to yourself.

You would give it back, eventually.

#neowritingsnet #nct jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #nct smut #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun x reader #nct x reader #nct #nct u #nct 127 #smut #angst #fluff #fanfic

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zukofenty · 5 years ago

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off the grid

➜ Summary: The one where Katara is a spoiled heiress who manages to crash land on a (cute) soldier of one of the most dangerous nations in the world.

“Get your face out of my vagina!” Katara screams at the top of her lungs.

“Here’s a thought, get your vagina out of my face first!”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, humor, CEO!Katara, Soldier!Zuko, Crash Landing on You!AU

➜ Words: 10.3k

AO3 @zutaramonth

“Get your face out of my vagina!” Katara screams at the top of her lungs.

“Here’s a thought, get your vagina out of my face first!” Zuko yelps, words gargling. He currently was being suffocated by the crotch at his neck. After Katara’s many screams, and a swift kick to his face, they both scrambled off each other, laying on the ground for a quick moment of relief. Her body is aching after throwing herself from the tree she was stuck in.

After realization set in that he was a soldier who was just nearly crushed to death by a cooch, and she was a woman who somehow crossed impenetrable borders, they swiftly were both upright. Katara in a fighting stance, and Zuko’s gun automatically pointed at the girl’s face. Her eyes nervously darted around, looking for any escape route in the expanse of wilderness and trees and furry animals she sure were foaming at the mouth, looking for a bite of gorgeous heiress who smelled of Chanel No. 5.

“I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me!” Katara screeches, taking off as fast as her Yeezys could take her.

“Um, yeah I can !” He insists, shooting into her general direction. He wasn’t trying to kill her persay. Maybe maim. (It just would’ve been a lot easier if she died).

“Fuck!” he screams, once the girl was out of sight.

Last week, Katara was cyberbullying Debby Ryan from the comfort of her penthouse. One of her larger concerns of the week was debating buying the rights to all of her Disney Channel movies, just because she felt like it. Then, she could post clips of her disturbing, Radio Rebel smile every day on Instagram without copyright claims and she could blissfully ignore Debby Ryan DMing her a defamation lawsuit.

She had money money . Like being able to turn on the AC during the summer type of wealthy. The type of rich that could sing John Lennon’s Imagine during any crisis and say that’s enough activism for today . After all, she was an heiress of one of the richest families in the Water Tribes—a nation at the forefront of nearly every cultural conversation. In the past, every other nation out there doubted their abilities based on size alone, underestimating the tribes’ growing force. Once a nation surviving on simply hope to prosper post 100 Years War, they were now a cultural powerhouse you couldn’t ignore if you tried. From their dramas, skincare routines, and exquisite cuisine (two-headed fish soup and all), the nation was suddenly the talk of the entire world. They thrived under people’s ignorant assumptions. Blossomed despite people’s mistreatment of them in the media. Soon enough, those who questioned their authority were begging for alliances.

Except for the Fire Nation. A nation stuck so determinedly in the past. Notorious for their inability to move on from the world of centuries ago. The world where the Fire Nation was a dominating force. While every nation competed to innovate, the Fire Nation seemingly refused to accept reality. Their borders were violently closed off. Their trade was limited to working with the Earth Nation every once in a blue moon. Refugees who manage to escape tell stories of a cruel life seemingly stuck in the stone ages. Their leader, Azulon, threatens to bomb somewhere, something, someone every other week, and every nation’s relationship with them has remained precariously in the air since then.

“What the actual fuck !” She screeches. “I thought this was one of those national parks joggers find bodies in, not the fucking Fire Nation !”

Dead or alive, people weren’t allowed to make it out of the Fire Nation.

Katara was a stubborn CEO. The kind to only accept things by her way, by her standards. Coming from money didn’t mean shit when you didn’t have the raw hunger she had. She wasn’t like many of her peers. She wasn’t content with just sitting back and signing a few papers once in a while so she could make it to her SoulCycle class. But, she’d like to think that’s what made her so successful for the last decade. Katara was insistent on testing her clothing company’s new batch of athletic clothing. She scaled a mountain range in the sweat resistant hoodie. She swam in Olympic sized pools in their innovative, competition ready swimsuit and swim cap matching set. Of course, it made sense to test their new paragliding uniform. At the time.

“ Don’t move. This field is full of landmines,” Zuko warns, putting out his hand to stop the shaking girl. He sees it in her eyes, the way she’s about to run after he’s managed to catch up to her, and unknowingly blow this entire shit up. “They’re grey and round, or shaped like a box that—”

“Like the one you’re stepping on, right now?” Katara smirks, hands coming to her hips to taunt him.

He freezes, hands coming out to balance himself at the edge of the stream she’s managed to leap across.

“Again, I am a bad bitch. These won’t kill me. You won’t kill me.” She snatches his walkie talkie from his jacket’s pocket, and thinks about just taking it and letting the guy who almost fucking shot her suffer. She decides against it (she didn’t want to get on God’s, or Rihanna’s, bad side today) and sets it down on the ground in front of him. He’s left to watch her expertly leap around a few stray explosives.

“If ‘bad bitch’ means missing a few limbs, sure. Go ahead ,” Zuko baits. She happily gives him the bird, before running as fast as she could in her Yeezy Boost 350s. Running even when she hears gunshots whizzing past her. Running even when she sees a sign, warning about a field of landmines.

She runs until her vision becomes blurry, and all she can hear are little children chanting a song about the Fire Nation’s greatness. She runs, even when her body feels like lead, and her eyes are a hair’s breadth away from shutting.

He doesn’t know why he helps her. Why he wants her to get out of here alive. Why he scoops her up once soldiers began flooding the village she stumbled upon. They were making sure everyone was doing their part in singing the national anthem before the enforced curfew. She should’ve been shot to death by now by his men, or at least mauled by a wild lion vulture.

He just doesn’t understand it. Their forces were meant to kill , trained to shoot anything at the border on sight. He doesn’t understand how this five foot nothing girl had outrun men who have trained in the military for nearly their whole lives. His army was sloppy that day. Most of them were still drunk off of whatever cactus juice and homemade wine combination the ladies at the local village had offered to them. Then again, it wasn’t every day someone decided to paraglide during the biggest storm of the decade. It wasn’t every day someone managed to cross into the Fire Nation, when no one wanted to be there for decades .

He doesn’t understand why he pulled her close to his body at the sight of the military’s trucks, and runs them into his house at the edge of the hill. He doesn’t understand why he spent the last three hours painstakingly cooking up noodles from scratch for her. She takes a quick nap on an old sleeping mat he found while he works diligently. His stomach protests the fragrant aroma. He hasn’t eaten a homemade meal in months.

“People literally steal and sell my pubic hairs on eBay. The average price is one grand for a single strand. I deserve better,” Katara says. He thinks it’s completely in jest. She cackles when he glares at her. The smile she sends him tries to relay that she's grateful, but he’s hardly swayed by her charms. Instead, he’s scoffing at the efforts.

A first for her.

She’s used to getting her way, as an expert at manipulation. When you’ve spent your whole life ruthlessly competing to run one of the largest corporations in the world, you couldn’t afford to be sweet or gentle or genuine. You learned to work people, bend them to your will until they snap. Then, you move on. Find someone else, do the old song and dance again.

Before she could even lift a chopstick, Zuko quickly grabs the bowl from her grasp, a pout forming on his lips. While he was always taught to school his features, he always knew he was no good at it.

“I will continue to do what I’ve been doing for the last two hours, and just ignore everything you’ve been saying,” he mutters, sipping at the broth to her dismay. The second she walked in, she called his house “a hut with a dick in it.” When he instructed her to take a shit in the outhouse, she didn't speak to him for the next hour. He thinks he saw her tear up when he mentioned there was no Internet. He swears he was ten seconds away from busting a vein.

“ Ugh . Room temperature water?” Zuko guffaws once her nose crinkles up in disgust.

He blows a stray strand of his hair away from his face. “There are no ice cubes.” She hates how everything he says is so matter of fact.

“Get some, then.” she says, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I don’t drink ice cube-less water.”

He just laughs. “Right, when we get any sort of electricity first, I’ll make it my number one priority to get a fridge that dispenses ice cubes engraved with your perfectly detailed portrait on them, too.”

Katara shoves at him, and he just stares at the spot on his chest she touched. “For future reference, I am vegan. Well, vegan adjacent. But still. The point is I am a delicate flower with an even more delicate diet. A delicate flower that’s used to caviar and organic shit and the rich people gluten-free bread you get from Trader Joe’s. So I’ll excuse it this time, but the next time you make something please remember.” She follows up the command with a sweet smile, as though it made up for her demands.

The memory of her dodging bullets with a branch in her hair easily comes up in his mind. “Nothing about you is delicate.” Zuko barely budges when she tries reaching for the bowl again.

Katara gasps. “Even my bowel movements are delicate!”

He just snorts.

She’s annoying, he decides. All brattiness considered. Even with her tiny frame drowning in her dirty paragliding uniform, and a pout that has him wanting to laugh. The way she moves is dainty, with the self-assurance only those who grew up in comfort have. But, something about her eyes reveal something crueler, something so much more vicious underneath the soft exterior.

He was thoroughly out of options. While he has her holed up in his house until they decide an escape route, he feels his stomach churning at the thought of the Fire Nation’s regular surprise house inspections. Turning her over to the government meant a quick and easy execution for him and his men without question, and the potential to cause even more political strain with the rest of the world. Even if they do hand her to the government, there’s no telling what they would do to her.

He tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes, rubbing at them as thought it could end the nightmare he found himself trapped in.

For the last few years, Zuko’s life was a monotonous routine.

“Type 63 Rifle, Soviet SKS carbine,” Zuko breathes, ears perking up at the sound of the weapon. His hand comes out to halt the hordes of men. “One of us. Retreat,” he barked, arms motioning for his battalion to return to their hidden positions among the dwindling flora and fauna. Months in his uniform without rest, months spent guarding the border to ensure no one left.

He doesn’t remember much about his life before this. He tries to forget, because it made him too sad. It made him want to do something reckless, to break something, to even cry , because he’s long forgotten anything but getting up, getting into uniform, getting into routine.

It was his duty, as the only son of the Fire Nation’s notorious military director.

He was trained to be a war wielding machine. To show no mercy. Men in the Fire Nation weren’t meant to be weak . They weren’t allowed to be soft.

His mother tried to get away from all of it. She tried as hard as she could to tell her children there was a life you could feel beat with all of your heart, as long as cruelty didn’t find it first. She knew Zuko wasn’t meant for this life.

Zuko knew, too.

He was never good at anything, never the best one growing up. While he excelled at delivering blows, or wielding his swords, he was always told his mind was a pathetic thing. Too brash, too naive. Azula was always the better one at that. At violence. She was their father’s right hand, her thoughts filled to the brim with genius strategy. Always one step ahead of everyone else, even as a toddler.

Zuko was content to be in the background, to be nothing more than a decoration when the family portrait needed to be taken. He wants to be selfish, to blame Azula for pressing pause on his life. The day she was assassinated was the day his dreams of forgetting the Fire Nation all but shriveled up. After all, tradition mandated the military director had a blood successor.

“I am not going to put back on my dirty underwear after I shower! I am not a Bhad Bhabie type of bitch,” Katara indignantly spits out, crossing her arms over her chest.

Zuko rolls his eyes. Everything she says is confusing .

“Don’t act up while I’m gone,” Zuko begs.

“Like the City Girls?”

She feels her blood boil at his silence.

“Please tell me you’re lying. Please tell me you’ve heard of ‘Act Up.’ Please. Don’t let me down now.”

“I have no—”

“Seriously, where were you all summer? ‘Act up, you can get snatched up?’ Nothing? Nothing rings a fucking bell?” He can’t help but sweat.

Even when he looked up whatever she says on his work computer (the only time people in the Fire Nation were allowed to use the Internet) he still can’t wrap his head around what exactly a Bhad Bhabie was.

“Then don’t wear underwear. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

She holds the landline phone close to her mouth, as if to make the message clearer. “Where will the pussy juices go then!”

Zuko hangs up on her, only to have her call him precisely 12 minutes later.

“My right nipple is chafing. What about my nipple eczema!” She protests. She feels her face shriveling up. Without her Yves Saint Laurent Firming Serum, she feels like a piece of her identity was missing. He had diligently informed her to use his sole bar of soap for all purposes before he left for work, and she nearly fainted on the spot.

“Tell it to go away, I guess?” Zuko suggests, trying his hardest to sound helpful. He tried leaving detailed notes on how to take a hot bath by pouring boiling water in his basin, and clipping the plastic shower curtain to the ceiling, trapping the heat in. He prays she hasn’t burned down his house, or someone hasn’t seen her through the gate.

“I can’t!” Katara seethes.

Zuko rubs at his temples. “This was meant for only emergencies. Goodbye !” Zuko slams the phone, returning to his paperwork. He feels a hot blush spreading across his cheeks, and tries to bring his hand up to his face to alleviate the warm feeling.

She doesn’t know why he’s so nice to her.

When she’s all but threatened him and blackmailed his entire crew to keep their silence and help her escape.

She simply laughs, the sound foreign to even her own ears. Her empty stomach painfully clenched in protest at the sudden sensation. It had to be some sort of sick joke. A sick fucking joke probably crafted up by Pakku! Or some of those man-children from the Northern Tribes who think they know a thing or two because they took a Marketing 101 crash course on Khan Academy!

She needed to get back for the big shareholders meeting. They were going to announce the new CEO of Moon Tech, the largest corporation in the Water Tribes. It was everything she had been working for her entire life. She couldn’t afford to miss it, lest it show any weakness whatsoever. As the most viable successor, she was sure all eyes were watching her every move. Yet, somehow, she managed to end up on the set of a period piece gone wrong. A miserable, yet probably Academy Award winning, period piece that smelled like moose knuckle pussy pickle.

She looked to the closed door, the flimsy thing separating the minute living room from his even smaller bedroom. She felt guilty for misjudging him upon their first meeting.

She thinks she feels more guilty for breaking his favorite vase.

“C’mon! That was my favorite ficus,” he grumbles, rubbing the spot on his head she broke the vase on. He avoids her gaze because she’s clad in one of his old dress shirts and nothing else, the thing coming to fall at her knees. If he blushes any harder, he thinks she might notice. Her hair is wrapped up in a messy updo and her face is scrubbed clean. The faintest tint of pink dusts across her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she whispers, hand coming to rub at the spot. She was nervous hearing someone wiggle the doorknob when he hadn’t come back well into the night. Why he had three locks on his door and used exactly none of them, she wasn’t quite sure. She thought she was being helpful by locking his doors. Until it was becoming apparent he didn’t care enough to carry his keys with him, and had an additional unlocked back door he was just attacked at.

He swats her away swiftly, body mechanically programmed to attack for coming so close to him. He’s body slammed bigger men for breathing through their mouths. But something stops him abruptly, and he stills when she comes closer, roughly grabbing at his head between her two hands, and bringing it to her eye level. “A slight bump will form, but it’ll go away faster if you soak some rice and press here,” she precisely finds the swelling area. He winces when he feels the pressure.

Her eyes are impossibly wide while she watches him, and he can’t help but shrink at her careful stare. This was the quietest she’s been since she crash landed. He feels unsettled. “I—I got you some stuff.” He places the bag gently in front of her, a now familiar flush coming to pepper his cheeks. “I’m going to go to bed now,” he lies, retreating to his room while still rubbing at his head.

“Thanks,” her voice is barely a whisper, and stops him in his tracks. He turns to her, and her smile is so genuine. Her eyes are swelling with joy and it makes his heart ache. It seemed easier to talk to her that night than in the day. There wasn’t an impossible front to break open to see how she was feeling, the moonlight peeking through the cracks in the wall seemed to make her eyes wider, smile brighter even. Her guard is down and it makes emotions easier to decipher.

She thinks she can’t feel her face when she opens the bag. “I’m such a bitch,” she babbles to herself as she opens the boxes of shampoo, conditioner, and even signature Water Tribe moisturizers. Everything she complained about he managed to remember to a T. He even got her some traditional Fire Nation women’s outfits, even when she was only staying for the next couple of days. The tears pricking at her eyes feel foreign. She could afford private jets to fly to Beverly Hills and start a fist fight with Kim Kardashian just because she hit Kourtney in season 18. A couple dollars worth of smuggled products shouldn’t make her a weepy mess. Somehow though, she feels herself unable to dim the smile plastered across her face.

Zuko wants to jump for joy. Though, he resists the urge when getting up too fast makes his head bump feel like it has a second heartbeat. He spent the better part of his evening at the open air marketplace a few blocks from the village. It was worth enduring the questioning glances from the shop vendors. Even when he felt like crawling in a hole and dying as he hastily gestured he wanted to purchase women’s underwear, it was all worth it when he’s lulled to sleep to the sound of Katara’s giggles.

“I think he just smiled.” Mako whisper-screams. Nearly all the jaws in the mess hall drop open.

“You’re lying ,” a voice squeaks out. The dozens of heads seem to collectively turn towards their captain. Their stomachs churned at seeing living proof of the small smirk on his face. He’s distracted. Staring off into the distance, he’s just picking at the meager helpings of his lunch on his plate.

For all intents and purposes, Zuko was boring . He was a stick in the mud, the kind of guy you saw laugh once or twice a year for obligatory purposes, just to make sure everyone knew he wasn’t a robot assigned by the government to spy on soldiers.

He was a captain who delivered orders, and nothing more. A strict, by the book kind of guy. The team knew little to nothing about him. They weren’t even sure he used the bathroom like a normal human being (half of them were betting money on the robot theory). They just weren’t close like that. They weren’t the type of team to be able to joke around with their captain, share their stories, bleed their heart out on the military field. They knew the scar on his face meant he had pissed off some higher ranking officials who still possessed the power to firebend, a sacred art limited to the few. It meant there was more to the story than just a bumbling captain of a lower ranked crew. The most they got out of him was once in a while he would startle a young kid, who was just trying to get his mandated service over with. He’d clap them on the shoulder and would murmur a low “Good job.” (His definition of keeping up team morale).

He was efficient at his job, and good at keeping his men safe, rarely raising his voice to anyone except maybe himself. More than what they could say for other captains. He was hard on his men, but harder on himself. It was rare to see him doing anything but stress .

Smiling ? Simply out of the question.

He couldn’t help it! It was an automatic reaction to the morning he had.

“Thank you, for everything,” Katara says quietly, placing the tray of food on his night stand. She knew he had to get to the military base in the wee hours of the morning, and also knew she wasn’t going to wake up in time without her vibrating mattress alarm clock. So she pulls an all nighter, and tries to figure out how to use the tools and contraptions at her disposal. She didn’t mean to startle him, she swears. She has to stifle a laugh when he wakes up with a start. Eyes slowly peeling open, the eye crust obstructing his view. His hair is facing every which way. He looks younger, somehow. The messy hair, the wrinkled shirt, and drool he makes a quick job of wiping away.

“What’s this?” He peers up at her curiously, placing the tray in his lap.

“My labor of love.” She insists, sitting even closer to him on his bed. She thinks she likes it when he squirms under her gaze. For all the military get up with metallic shoulders, and the endless medals pinned to his uniforms, he was just a boy under it all. “I know, I haven’t been the most...easy guest to have.” She ignores his snort. “After all of this over, after the Fire Nation opens up its borders again, I promise you. I will pay you ten times what this hut with a dick is worth. Because…” she breathes in, looking unsure of herself. “I’ll never forget your kindness.”

“T—Thank you,” he stutters. He thinks they’re empty promises, but doesn’t try to question them too hard. It shouldn’t be possible for his heart to pulse as fast as it does, but it seems to be mesmerized by how much wider her smile was able to get. The noodles are misshapen, probably because of her inexperience with the old-fashioned machine. The broth is salty and makes Zuko’s throat beg for a glass of water. And yet, he slurps up the entire dish without complaint.

Anything to see her eyes light up.

“The first boob I ever saw was in Titanic . Haven’t seen one since. Waiting for Titanic 2 to come out.” Mako says proudly, puffing out his chest. He hoped his extensive knowledge of non-Fire Nation films would entertain Katara. Zuko’s few trusted men (mainly the ones who were responsible for letting her escape in the first place) were instructed to keep her safe while he sorted out the plans for her escape. Iroh was able to set up a clandestine arrangement with a ship leaving the Fire Nation docks for their semi annual pickup of Earth Nation goods. They were hoping she could sneak through to the Earth Nation, and explain her situation with customs there.

“Buddy, I got some news for you.” Katara smirks, and the boys grow nervous. She was pretty. The type of pretty that made people stare, wondering if it was possible for someone’s eyes to twinkle in the sunlight. She looked like one of those celebrities in the movies he loved. Talked like one, too. In the Fire Nation, she was the type of pretty where guys would be bartering an entire village just to get a chance to look at her. Though, just from talking with her, she seemed like the type of girl who would hide in her house after gaining said village, just to spite them.

Mako was curious about the Water Nation. Their schools taught them that Azulon was an elite magical creature that somehow never needed to take a shit, and people in the other nations defecated three times the amount of Fire Nation folk. He always knew something was up. Everyone was constantly smuggling goods from all the other nations, especially from the Water Nation. There were automatic rice cookers that played a song when it finished making perfect rice, and little boxes that could play music when you press it. Mako always knew there was so much more out there than people in the Fire Nation could ever know.

She tells them stories of her life in the Water Tribes as they wait for Zuko, and she pointedly ignores the scoffs and disbelief. “There are toilets that shoot out water into your ass crack to clean it?”

“You can adjust the settings and everything!” She proclaims, pride filling every one of her words. “Warm, cool, even inconsistent spurts if you’re into that shit.”

They all make a noise of amazement. “That’s incredible .” She talks about sky rises, and business meetings with rich people, and showers that turn on with a drop of a hat.

“What’s a Rihanna again? Is that your God?”

“Yes.” Katara answers, with no hesitation. “See, she is the baddest in the land—”

“Wait!” Bolin abruptly stops her. “I thought that was your God...Megan Thee Stallion?”

“She’s the thiccest of them all.” Katara punctuated with a click of her tongue. “I thought we went over this!”

“Sorry,” they grunt, looking especially sheepish.

“What does she preach?” Kai inquires, eyes growing wide with delight.

Katara taps her lip, eyes coming up to the ceiling trying to concentrate. “She’s a goddess who empowers women! She tries to get everyone to build their knee strength. I think one of her sayings is ‘I need a Mr. Clean, make that pussy beam,’” Katara .

Zuko watches on, leaning on the door frame. He wants to hate the fact that he’ll miss her.

Everything was supposed to be easy at this point.

“Don’t forget about me.” She holds onto his arm as they sit against the edge of the fishing vessel, the waves impatiently slapping against them. He was supposed to bid her farewell at the dock, but something in him wanted to guarantee she was able to get on the second boat to the Earth Nation.

He’s still clad in one of his more formal uniforms. He still feels the chill of the night scraping through the fabric of his double breasted blazer.

Katara openly welcomes the cold, after nearly sweltering to death every second she’s been in the Fire Nation.

He lets his smile reach his eyes. “How could I forget a girl who nearly crushed me to death with her crotch.”

Her guffaw has the captain, Jeong Jeong, even startled. “Right.” She looks off into the distance, and can’t remember a time when she’s ever been surrounded by this much water. “My name’s Katara, by the way.”

Zuko feels a pang in his chest. “Zuko.”

“Nice to meet you, Zuko,” she whispers, holding her hand out to shake his. It feels warm when he grabs at the dainty thing.

“I hope we meet again. Maybe, in another life, Katara.”

“Really?” For a moment, he hears a twinge of sadness in her voice. It could be his mind or his heart making it up, but he swears he hears it.

“Really.”

Everything was going according to plan. Everything was supposed to go smoothly.

Until they’re both panic-sweating underneath the ship in its cargo hold, trying to come up with a plan to fend off the Coast Guard officers stopping all ships sailing past curfew.

“Do something! Doesn’t the military tell you to do something in this case? Or are you guys just trained in the art of being ugly and having anger issues?”

Zuko wracks his brain. “Why don’t you help me?”

“What happens if I don’t?” Katara angrily mutters.

“You’ll deal with the consequences,” Zuko shrugs, too entirely calm. He was a natural in intense situations, but even he could feel his hands shaking.

“That’s just diet ‘ I hope this bitch dies !’”

“Oops,” Zuko sneers.

Katara huffs. “The fact that men can breathe just doesn’t sit right with my soul.” Katara wants to strangle him.

A lightbulb seemingly goes off in his head. Something Mako said about the non-Fire Nation films and stories was always a fool proof “Get out of jail” card.

“Kiss me,” he says without any uncertainty.

“Are you huffing cactus juice, bitch?”

“Just do it!” Zuko practically screams when he hears the door opening. She presses her lips to his chapped ones, and his hands naturally come to her waist. He’s lost in the feeling of her plush lips, how incredibly soft her body was that he ignores the screams of Coast Guard officers.

“What the fuck was that!” They question Jeong Jeong, who simply shrugs. The officers promptly drop the cargo door in shock.

She slaps his face, his cheek already reddening in mere moments.

“What was that for?” Zuko grumbles, stroking his face.

“You’re a freak!”

He narrows his eyes. “I prefer a ‘you’re welcome,’ but that doesn’t seem to be in your vocabulary.” He felt like his entire body was tingling, but Katara could only focus on the fact he was swiping at his lips with the back of his hand.

“Hey! You should be thanking Rihanna you got a chance to kiss me! If you weren’t so colonized you would realize I am one of the most beautiful women in the world!” Katara petulantly reminds.

“I think it’s because you got diarrhea all over my one of my favorite t-shirts that I am doubting that claim.”

Katara sulks, confident form shrinking. “I forgot to boil the water one time, sue me.”

He can’t stop his laugh from taking over his whole body. He’s about to help her up when he hears, “Open it up again!”

This time, Katara fully pushes him down among the boxes of cargo, straddling his lap, and violently mashes her lips to his.

“Get the fuck up here!” Someone screams. Katara lets up on the kiss so Zuko could peer up at the officers. He feels his ears overheating.

“She’s my fiancé.” He hastily explains, once they were on deck. In between their masks, they stare down at Katara, who bites on her tongue, and puts up an act of a bashful bride-to-be. She holds onto his arm with a vice grip, ducking her head behind his broad shoulders.

“They were going on a romantic sight seeing trip,” Jeong Jeong provides, sweat beating down his back.

Katara nods enthusiastically. “We just couldn’t wait for the wedding to have a little fun .” She grins intenerally at their coughs of discomfort and Zuko’s bewildered gaze.

They check Zuko’s identification card, before nodding in understanding.

“Fine,” one officer bites out. He stares at Katara for a beat too long as though he’s reading her thoughts. It makes her uneasy. “Turn it back, and don’t come out past curfew anymore. They’ve implemented new standards for ships.” Jeong Jeong nods in understanding, and jumps to the helm in no time. But, Zuko could sense the panic vibrating off of Katara.

She turns to see the second ship waiting in the distance, her ticket to freedom a few feet away.

“We’re not done with date night!” She insists, coming out to try to stop the officer. Zuko holds her back, eyes pleading with her. “But—I—there has to be some other way.” She’s shaking like a leaf, even when Zuko throws his blazer over her bare shoulders.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck feeding him heartburn medication like they are tic tacs,” Katara says to no one. She’s pacing nervously around the living room, and Zuko’s trying his best to come up with something to comfort her. His head is in his hands, and he’s since loosened his top knot to let his hair fall.

“Katara, I am only two years older than you,” he gently reminds.

“...And then I heard dentures always smell no matter how hard you clean them.”

“Katara I swear—,”

She gasps. “Oh my god, we have to start thinking of retirement homes.”

Things were supposed to be easy.

A spontaneous house check was something the village’s residents were accustomed to. They gathered outside their homes as soldiers began rifling through their things. Parents simply stood about, discussing the new books they had to buy for their kids for the upcoming semester.

Nothing was entirely out of the blue. Yet, the elusive military captain just had to show up to the front of his house, hand in hand with a blue-eyed girl.

A gun was promptly pointed in her face. “Oh shit. Bitch, not this again.”

“This house was registered for one resident.” General Zhao’s lip curls. “State your name and occupation.”

General Zhao had overheard a certain military director’s son was busted trying to get some punani on the seven seas.

It’s not that he hated Zuko, per say. Their relationship was more of a “ regularly abusing Zuko’s privacy to fulfill a personal agenda because of the bloodthirsty desire for power ” type of thing. Normal things. Maybe , it was influenced by the fact he got wind of Zuko pressuring his higher ups to further investigate his sister’s assasination. He wasn’t entirely sure.

“Look here, I have information that could lead to the arrest of Nicki Minaj. So why don’t you, I don’t know. Let me go ! I promise I’ll tell you everything I know about Ms. Nincki,” she lowly breathes, a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows only making the soldiers around her even more heated.

“Shut the fuck up!” A soldier screams behind her, poking her head with the gun. Katara couldn’t help the whimper that passed her lips. For the first time in her life, she thinks she feels genuine fear.

Zuko pushes past the guards holding him back, throwing them to the ground. Without missing a beat, he takes her hand in his. “Get your fucking gun out of my fiancé’s face!” He roars. Gasps reverberate around the villagers. This was the loudest and longest they’ve ever heard Zuko speak. “She works for the government as part of Division 11,” he explains, letting his voice settle into its usual rasp. Everybody visibly recoils.

A highly secretive sector of the government virtually no one , not even General Zhao had access to. They were agents deployed in different nations, with the goal of collecting information about the culture. It would’ve explained Katara’s Water Tribe accent, and the lack of her identification papers.

General Zhao pushes past Zuko, staring him down and grumbling with his men following behind.

The women of the village instantly make way to collect around Katara. Noses turned up at her like she was shit on a brick. No, they couldn’t give a shit about her. They had rushed into their houses after the announcement, and came back to ply Zuko with trays of food.

“For our handsome Zuko finally getting hitched!” The fake smiles make Katara want to stab herself. She swiftly reaches for Zuko’s hand, much to his confusion, and lays her head on his shoulder.

“Baby, let’s go inside. I’m cold,” she feigns through her teeth. Her puppy dog eyes make him feel like he’s in high school. He numbly nods.

She thinks she hears someone’s grandma calling her a slut.

“Pick your head up king, your hairline is receding,” Katara worries her lip at seeing his current state. She doesn’t think he’s slept all night, and he has papers and maps with highlighter marks and red circles all around him on his bed.

It’s been a few days since his big announcement to the village, and it feels better to be able to get outside. Breathe from the confines from Zuko’s dingy house. Even among the whispers and stares from people, the villagers weren’t all bad. The women sometimes drop by to invite her over to cook with them, and the kids bring her only the nicer rocks they’ve managed to dig through the dirt for.

“I just want to get you home.” He practically grunts. She’s holding a cup of tea for him, and he gulps it down as if it was Rihanna’s boob sweat. “I don’t want you to stay here for even a second longer.”

“Thanks!” Katara sends him a sardonic smile.

Fuck . He always knew how to put his foot in his mouth when he’s around her. “No, uh. Not like that. This place is a hell hole, and I just want you to get back. It’s not safe for you, for anyone here.” She pats his back gently when he starts choking on the tea, trying to get all his words out. He’s so sweet, the way he just quietly tries to draft out a plan while he thinks she’s asleep. She hears him curse whenever a pen snaps with the pressure he applies. With how many times he sighs through the night, she feels guilty.

She’s entirely too comfortable around Zuko, he decides. She lays in bed next to him and he hopes she doesn't notice the way he’s grown warm with her presence. He craves it too much these days. “You know what, the one thing I’ve learned through all of this is that the first thing I’m going to do when I come back is shutting down Chrissy Teigen’s Twitter.”

“Not visit your friends and family?” Zuko asks, amusement dancing across his features.

“That can come second,” Katara asserts.

Life wasn’t completely terrible. Sure, she cries the moment Zuko leaves the house because she’s sure she’s going to die in this shit fuck of place and never get to her money’s worth of her one year HelloFresh subscription. But she has complete faith in Zuko’s abilities.

“It’s like during The Amazing Race Season 17 when those two vegetarian doctors ate a goat’s head to win. I think their names were Kat and Nat.”

“The point?” Zuko tries his best to sound exasperated.

“The point is, I’ll learn how to adapt for the next week or so. I promise, it’s not all that terrible!” Zuko doesn’t trust her uneasy, twitching eyes, but nods all the same.

“Hold my hand, motherfucker!” She beams under the attention of the villagers, most of them scoffing when she does her daily send off routine. When Zuko leaves for work, she is insistent on performing their cute couple duties to piss off old people (her other favorite pastime). “Did you remember to bring your water bottle today, stupid bitch?”

“I think I’d like this more if you asked nicely,” he groused. He likes how small her hand fits in his, but he thinks he’ll boil shoelaces and eat them before he would admit it.

She’s made one friend, at least. Ty Lee, a girl whose parents are trying to marry her off by the next summer. The older women side eyed her just the same, thinking her big ole titties were too big of a distraction among the eligible men in the village.

“It came as a shock to us, we still think Zuko is a robot,” Ty Lee admits over a bowl of beef stew. Katara nearly chokes at the spice level. “It’s too bad you’re marrying a lower ranked officer. I know this guy who’s way up there! You could do so much better . I think his name’s Chan!”

“So, Zuko’s basically a nobody here?”

“Pretty much,” the girl states it like it’s a known fact. “He doesn’t do much, to be honest. But he’s all the old ladies’ favorites because he’s cute and moody . Fuck that, give me communication , you know what I mean?”

Katara could already feel the cogs whirring to life in her brain. “Thanks for letting me know, Ty Lee!” Her chirpy tone has the girl smiling as well. Good, her acting skills haven’t gone rusty. “How come when Zuko makes beef stew, it’s never spicy?” She wipes her nose with a napkin Ty Lee had given her after noticing the impending waterfall of snot.

Ty Lee ponders it for a second. “Sorry, babe. This is the most mild recipe you can make in the Fire Nation. I didn’t realize you couldn't handle it. Maybe he’s just remixing a classic?”

Katara tries to hold back her smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Babies are broke,” Katara glares at the child in her lap, who only curls in closer to her.

“Oh my god.” Zuko lets the little boy play with his hair when he wasn’t suffocating Katara’s neck with his other arm.

“They live in your head and your house rent free. And then they have the audacity to stare at you in their weak ass outfits,” she points out. They’re both squeezed together on a sofa barely holding itself together, and forced to watch over the birthday boy.

“Don’t be mad. It’s entirely your fault Chungha’s kid laughed so hard it barfed on you.”

Katara’s exhausted laugh makes Zuko forget his tiredness all the same. “Don’t call the baby an ‘it!’”

Zuko lets the kid bite on his finger, and grabs him from Katara’s hands when he begins tugging on her dress straps. “I still can’t believe you taught Chungha’s daughter to ‘not be the bigger person, and punch a bitch!’ And Chungha still invited you to her son’s party.”

“Talk shit, get hit. Basic stuff.”

He had to admit, coming home and immediately being dragged to a baby’s birthday celebration was not how he saw his night going. Especially after hours of grueling paperwork.

“He’s two ,” Zuko lets out an annoyed huff.

“And what about it, bitch?” Katara growls. She has her hair in a complicated updo, complete with the Fire Nation hair ties he recently picked up for her.

He tries to hide the fact he enjoys this far too much. Domestic things. Things like coming home from work to banter with her. Cooking for Katara while she’s busy socializing with the older wives. He heard from Mako that Katara spends most of her day with the married women. Her plan was to try to move him up the ranks of the military ladder by getting to the lieutenant’s wives first.

When she’s home and finished washing up, she takes his dress shirts as though they were her’s and wears them to bed. After she’s passed out on the sleeping mat in the living room, he makes it a habit to carry her to the mattress in his room.

“My bad back likes the hard floor,” he would insist when she would protest.

He thinks he’s a goner when she even starts trying to make Fire Nation snacks for his lunches. He packs them himself, but somehow misses the minute containers that make their way into his pail. Even if the container somehow always breaks because she forgets to close it properly and he ends the day smelling like fish sauce, he likes it.

He knows he must be fucking crazy, pretending this was all real. Maybe he was delusional and reading too much into her actions. Maybe he was a fucking idiot. But for a moment, it was easy to pretend he’s a few months away from marrying a pretty girl. A pretty girl busy spending the night playing around with babies they could one day have together.

He shakes the thought from his head, physically moving his head to make it permeate even deeper. She was going to be back home, safe and sound soon. It was better not to get attached.

She makes it so fucking hard, though. Especially when she’s wiping away at the creases in his brow before bed. Or asking him through the closed bedroom door to tell her it’s going to be ok, to talk to her until she falls asleep because she likes the sound of his voice.

She’s a stone cold bitch. A bitch that could fight with her Swarovski crystal acrylics, and come out virtually unscathed. Someone needs to explain to her exactly why she was crying like a James Charles fake apology video for being a racist at the sight of Chungha’s kid bouncing about, flinging his boogers in her face.

“Maybe if I pray to Azulon hard enough, you guys could have your own little bundle of joy soon!” Chungha exclaims, holding the baby as tight as she could.

After all, when you almost lose a kid, every moment you’re blessed with their breath never feels like enough. You never want to spend another moment away from them. It’s a miracle his fever broke in time for his birthday. Their family couldn’t afford to go to the doctor, with hospitals being a four hour bike ride away.

“Yeah, sure.” Katara barely could hear her over Yoonjn’s gleeful squeals.

“I’ll tell Bomi to pray for you guys, too. After what Azulon did for her little Sana, you’ll be pregnant in no time!”

Katara just squeezes at the baby’s chubby cheek.

“You’re going to kill yourself.” Katara flinches at Zuko’s voice piercing through the quiet night. He’s leaning up against the wall, and emerges from the shadows because he’s dramatic and needed the added effect. She doesn’t miss the way he limps while clutching his side.

“Shut up .” She throws her straw hat at the ground, and flings herself across the sleeping mat, face down. “I’ve had a long night.”

He wants to be angry with her. He wants to scream at her. He was livid .

“What if you got caught, huh? You could’ve been executed .” Zuko knew it wasn’t a coincidence. That the rumors of a spirit going around healing people in the village coincided with someone’s sudden appearance. He thinks the sight of Katara effortlessly waterbending is permanently etched into his memory. The way her face was blissed out, the element easily submitting to her every will.

Katara knows he’s just worried for her. She knows the occasional rustle of the branches was more than a breeze. But, all she sees is red. “Sounds rich, coming from you ! What’s your name again? Sorry, my bad. I didn’t know ‘The Blue Spirit’ was a silent vowel in the name ‘Zuko!’”

He waits a beat, before turning to face her. She has his mask in hand, an angry glare screwing her features.

“How did you—who did—?” His brain was apparently as smooth as Howie Mandel’s head when he needed its help the most. At least he knows where his mask went.

“My mind is as strong as the Twitter men trying to get Doja Cat to show us her titties.” She rolls her eyes when she sees Zuko pondering. “You leave your Dao swords on display in the living room, and the mask is underneath your bed. I don’t know, let me ask the audience.”

“Oh.”

Katara flicks his forehead.

“At least I’m not walking around with some face paint thinking I’m helping these people!”

She scoffs. “But I am! They’re too sick to afford medication. To even go to the hospital. If they make it, no one wants to help them! You’re telling me I have to just watch them die!”

Zuko sighs. “You’re giving them hope !”

“In this dumpster fire of a place, yeah! I fucking am! What’s wrong with that? Tell me!” She challenges. She comes up nose to nose with Zuko, eyes darting and impatiently waiting for an answer.

“What are these people going to do when you’re gone?” What am I going to do when you’re gone? “They think the Painted Lady is real !”

“Let them!” She huffs. “What about you, huh? Going around stealing from the rich to bring back to the villagers? You think you’re any better? You’re going to get killed!”

Zuko scoffs. “You’re missing the point. The difference between you and me? I’m perfectly fine with dying.”

Katara grabs his face in between her hands, anger vanishing. “Zuko, don’t say that.”

“Why the fuck not? Maybe I want to fucking die!” He shouts, ripping his head out of her grasp. “Maybe I’m hoping to get caught!”

“...Why?” Katara croaks.

“ You don’t get it !” He screams. Time seemed to stop when tears fell from Zuko’s eyes. Even when he’s angry, he’s never been this loud with Katara before. He wants to take it all back, stop himself.

She’s at a loss for words. “Zuko, I—”

“This place is a fucking dead end. No one’s going to save us. The Fire Nation doesn’t care about us. The Fire Nation could give less of a fuck. You can’t let people think there’s hope when it’s all a fucking lie !” He laughs, the bitter sound foreign to her. “You know, it’s normal to pray for an early death here. You pray that it’s painless. It’s easier to die than live every day trapped in this reality.”

He loses his grip on the countertop he was leaning on for support. Katara moves to catch him before he falls, and lays him as gently as possible on top of the mat. She makes quick work to heal the gash at his side. A result of following her during her rounds, and fighting off any robbers trying their luck in the night.

“I thought you were the Kris Jenner of the Southern Water Tribe?” He squeezes out, trying to get her to laugh. She’s touched he remembered her Kardashian-Jenner clan rants. (He’s been Team Stormi since day one.) Then again, he seems to remember every little detail about her. “A businesswoman, right? Didn’t know you were a master waterbender on top of all of that.”

She snorts, and wipes away her own tears before he could open his eyes again. “I was a paramedic. I wanted to run a clinic at one point.” Zuko winces at the intensity of the water cooling his wound. “Growing up, I hated the business world. It was all backstabbing and boring bitches. But sometimes, it’s easier.” She’s silent for a while, focused only on the healing process.

“I—I couldn’t save a lot of people,” her voice drops down to a barely audible whisper, and her brows furrow.

They’re shoulder to shoulder on the mat after she wraps up his cut. They’re staring up at the cracks of his ceiling.

“Do you ever miss it?” Zuko rasps.

“Bending?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes.” She lets silence fill the air for a moment. “ It’s second nature to me. Fuck, I was bending before I could even talk. Is it bad that I gave up on it? Is it bad it makes me sick to my stomach?”

Something she loved, she couldn’t stand to do again.

She couldn’t save her mom. She couldn’t save her niece. What was the point anymore?

He wraps his hand around hers.

“What do you think we would have been like, in another life?” Zuko groans, laying down beside Katara. She’s sprawled out, still taking in heavy breaths after breaking into an intense run. His side still aches. He thinks his arm is broken from fighting off the soldiers while carrying the dozens of survivors.

The captain in a nearby village was sentenced to a public execution later in the week. He wanted to go out on his own terms and take his village with him, too. Trying to sacrifice people to the Gods above for forgiveness, he set the place ablaze.

It’s too bad The Painted Lady got wind of it first.

“Hm?” Katara hums, healing a cut on her face. “I’d like to think Katara in another life got to be normal. Like just owning a Chevy and living life without ever having to acknowledge Timothee Chalamat’s existence type of normal. She’s happy. She doesn’t develop an addiction to Prozac. She probably has a small white dog named Mochi that can fit into a knock-off Fendi purse.”

“Really? No butt-warming toilets in her life?”

“Nah. She could be the Mayor of Boo Boo the Foolville without any consequences.” She can’t recall a time when she’s felt so free. When her words flow out without carefully being measured. The stars feel like daylight. The expanses of the village’s nearby river tugging at her heart strings. “She could bend without constantly thinking of what could’ve been.”

“Zuko in another life would’ve been a piano player.” It still stings. Thinking about the future that could’ve been.

“Not a full time Blue Spirit?” She teases.

“Full time Blue Spirit doesn’t pay the bills, surprisingly.”

He turns his head and sees her nose crinkle. He’s sure it should be illegal for someone to be this beautiful.

“This kid I healed, he made his own Blue Spirit costume. He’s been wearing it every day, and treated it like it’s this season’s Versace,” Katara murmurs. He laughs, loud and unbridled.

“Yeah? I saw a bunch of little girls with their Painted Lady dolls.” They were holding onto them until their knuckles turned white, even with Zuko dangling them from his shoulders.

Katara’s heart swells. “I think I’m going to cry.”

Zuko nudges her shoulder with his when he hears her mock-sniffles.

“Did you know I told this guy ‘it’s time to evacuate!’ while he was mid-masturbation.”

Katara’s stomach is starting to hurt with how hard she’s squealing. “You’re lying ! Please, say sike!”

Zuko throws his hands up. “I couldn’t make this up even if I tried. He was all like, ‘You mean time to ejaculate!’” Zuko finishes the story in a dude-bro voice.

At this point, Katara was shaking uncontrollably, and it’s infectious. He can’t help laughing, too.

A beat of silence passes between the duo, too distracted by the night sky.

Zuko rubs a hand over his face, determined to stay awake to see her fall asleep.

“What would Zuko and Katara have been in another life?” Katara whispers wistfully.

He glances over to her, eyes heavy. “I think being us would have been easier, in another life.” Her light snores fill the air. “At least then, I could be by your side.”

He nudges her head until it fits securely in the crook of his shoulder.

“Sit there and look pretty!”

“No!”

“All I’m asking you to do is sit and blink!” Katara had run into a kid with a smuggled polaroid camera trying to snap photos of her. In return for not slicing open his urethra with a dull butter knife, she was trying to force him to take photos of Zuko. After all, she wanted a memento of her time with him.

The teen was nervously glanced between the two, the camera shaking in his grasp.

“I think I’m going to go find my mom…”

“Pussy bitch!” Katara screams at the running boy.

“Old ass hoe!” He yelps back.

Zuko knew it was a mistake taking Katara to the night market. As a celebration of the Mid-Autumn Festival, curfews were relaxed. The marketplace opened up to sell street food into the night. There’s singing, dancing, laughing, drinking. A night to forget, a night meant for happiness.

He thinks it’s ridiculous. The way she doesn’t notice the way guys look at her. He’s spent the better part of the night standing in front of her if any man was brave enough to glance in her general direction. At night, she was in her element, her smile was a blinding thing that made his heart race. She doesn’t pay any mind to anyone staring, to anyone trying to get her attention. She’s just taking in the little moments around her, eyes so bright and stares so wide. Like she’s afraid to miss a single detail with just a blink.

“Your breath smells like stupid bitch,” Katara points out after what had to be his 20th grunt of the night. She’s sure he’s holding her close to make sure they still played a newly engaged couple. She relishes in the attention all the same.

“Sorry.” He sulks like a child, and it makes Katara want to hug him.

She pecks his cheek and he freezes. “Look! He bought his girlfriend that potato on a stick thing!”

Zuko rushes off without any hesitation.

He picks the fire flakes off the potato slices before handing it to her. She practically inhales the snack, and he frets. He thinks she’s about to stab herself with the skewer. “Oh look!” She points to another couple, while pouting. “He won her a stuffed dragon.”

Zuko couldn’t stand to see her upset, even for a second.

When she’s hugging the plushie close to her, Zuko throws his arm around her. She stops in her tracks. “Oh my god! Is that ice cream—” He runs to find the vendor without even thinking.

“Number 43!” The vendor yelps. Zuko instantly recognizes the greasy teenager picking up the order in front of him.

“Give me the photos you took of my fiancé,” he says, panting. He practically ran at lightning speed to catch up to the kid, who intentionally rushed off after feeling Zuko glaring him down from a distance. The boy feels his bladder shaking.

“But—but you didn’t want a photo! You—” Zuko’s best menacing scowl had the kid scrambling through his pockets. “She could do better, you know!” He petulantly points out, before throwing the photo in the air and taking off.

Zuko lets himself smile after tucking Katara’s picture safely into his wallet. He knew he told himself he wouldn’t get attached. Not his fault she’s cast him under her spell.

He’s pouting. She’s struggling not to laugh in his face.

“This is mine, now.” He indignantly rips the toy of her hold, squishing it to his chest instead.

“Why?” she questions.

“If you want one so bad, ask Chan to win you one.” She straight up guffaws in his face. Zuko had caught Chan hugging her out of excitement. Ty Lee finally agreed to a date with him, all thanks to Katara meddling.

“I can’t believe you’d cheat on me!” Zuko scowls. He’s more cute than terrifying, and Katara just rolls her eyes. “I thought I was the only one you call ‘babe!’” He tries protesting.

Katara snorts. “That was short for ‘beyblade.’ Let it rip, motherfucker!”

“Am I not a good husband-to-be? Is that what it is? Do you feel neglected, babe ?” He’s just fucking with her at this point, his childish pout threatening to bleed into a full blown laugh. He’s biking them back home, with Katara seated at the front on only a towel. She misses her Tesla.

“For starters, your toes look like gorilla knuckles. They look like they could wrap completely around a baseball.”

“Hey!”

“Be honest. Has anyone ever sucked your toes until you creamed yourself?” Katara’s favorite pastime is making Zuko blush.

She turns back to him to see his reddening face. “Oh my god! Look at how cute you are! I think my stomach has the butterflies!” Zuko just grows positively crimson at her mocking tone. He’ll blame the warming weather, though.

“Kill them. I won’t treat you right,” Zuko murmurs. Katara just swats at his head. “Didn’t I shoot at you? Love yourself, Katara.”

Once they reach his house, she jumps off the bicycle, and grabs Zuko by the shoulders. “Hey.”

“What?” He can’t help being mesmerized by her eyes.

“I think I’ll miss you,” Katara breathes.

“You have to leave first for you to miss me.” Zuko wraps her up in a tight hug.

He feels selfish when he wishes moments with Katara could last a lifetime.

#zutara fanfiction #zutara #zuko x katara #zutara month #zutara month 2020 #may 13 #hidden #zutara month part two

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