#i wish we could gatekeep her too unfortunately the other side of that is the clock app being a hitmaker. but we will cherish her especially | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sirena-blogs · 3 years ago

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Character: Meian Shuugo

Word Count: 5.5k words

WARNING, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, MAFIA READER, MAFIA MEIAN, GUNS, MAFIA, BLOOD, VIOLENCE, TOXIC FAMILY, DEATH THREATS, IMPLIED ARRANGED MARRIAGE, ANGST ANGST ANGST. LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING.

For @lovemeian

Thank you @saudade-mayari for being the beta reader <33

Death followed you everywhere.

It was an unfortunate side effect of being the heiress to a crime syndicate.

The L/ns are one of the best and most feared crime families in the world, with their nearly international reach and wires upon wires of connection.

You have built up your own connections to back you up as you grew older, ones ready to back you up whenever you need it.

Your footsteps echoed in the halls of the syndicate’s main headquarters, the building that you practically grew up in. To many, a life surrounded by guns and violence was terrifying and outright traumatizing. But to you, this was normal.

This was your life. This is how things have always been for you. You know this shouldn’t be how things are, how you want things to be, but it’s how it is.

“You are late.”

If it wasn’t rude according to your upbringing, you would've rolled your eyes at your father already. You weren’t late. In fact, you were on time. But to your father, anyone else that arrives after him is late.

“Forgive me, Father. I had a meeting before this.”

You knew your father would see it as an excuse, but you just sat down in front of him, not minding his glare. You were more than used to his cold ways, for he has always been like that.

“I have a job for you,” Your father started, and you tilted your head in response. “I want the Meians eliminated. And I want to start with the son.”

Your family syndicate had gone international, but there was one continent they could never reach.

Asia.

Your family can never reach Asia, because the Meian Crime Family had gatekeeped the continent for themselves. A fact that infuriated your father since his succession as the head of your family at the age of 30, when you were just 5 years old.

“What is it that you want me to do, Father?”

“We have received knowledge that the heir, Shuugo, is visiting Italy. I want you to seduce him and kill him.”

You looked at your father, waiting for him to take back his words, to take back the suggestion that you use your body for his own personal gain to end a rival mafia, but you knew that he wouldn’t. When your father wants you to get something done, he expects it to be done.

It didn’t matter if you had to sell your body for it.

Had your mother been alive, she would’ve killed your father for even suggesting a thing. Alas, your mother had passed years ago from a job that had gone wrong.

All you could do is nod.

“Yes, Father.”

*****

Meian Shuugo pursed his lips as he walked around the Meian Syndicate halls towards his mother’s office. He never liked his family’s legacy. He wanted a peaceful life. A life away from the guns and the drugs and the violence.

The Meians aren’t as bad as other syndicates, in the way that they are more peaceful, but still.

His childhood and the life he grew up with is not one he would wish on others. He wanted to run, far away from the halls that he called his home. He knew his mother didn’t want this life either, but he was the only Meian heir. He could not afford to let the family legacy crumble.

“Son, are you sure about heading off to Italy for this vacation? You have never been overseas.”

Meian looked at his mother and nodded his head. He knew the dangers of him flying overseas with the minimal number of guards with him, but he wanted to.

“I am, Mom. Besides, Italy is neutral territory. Nothing should happen to me there.”

Reassurance is all that he can offer to his mother, along with the years and years of training that he’s had under her watchful eyes. He knew how terrified his mother was of losing him too, after she had lost his father years ago.

“Just be careful, okay? Italy may be neutral ground, but things can still happen.” His mother said, a worried frown causing a crease in her tired eyes. “The L/ns are notorious for making things happen on neutral territory.”

“I know, mom. I’ll always watch my back.”

He wished that he didn’t have to. He wished that he was normal, that his life was the same as everyone.

But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t the same, and any hopes for normalcy is not in his grasp.

No matter how much he wished or willed it to be.

*****

Italy is beautiful all year round. This you knew, but nothing beats the beauty of Milan during the fall season. You sipped on your coffee and continued to read your book.

You landed in Italy a week ago and had been spending the last few days trying to come up with a plan for the job you had been tasked to do.

Only that it was difficult, as you didn’t know where in Italy did the Meian heir go to, nor did you know when. All the intel given to you was that he was going to be in Italy, and thus, you’re at a loss.

As you let the day pass by, you were startled when someone sat in front of you. You glanced at them and went back to your book, until it clicked on your mind just who exactly was in front of you.

The very man you have been tasked to seduce.

You raised your brow at him, but he just grinned cheekily..

“Lovely weather we are having, no?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering exactly why he approached you. It was impossible that he didn’t know you.

Not to mention the fact that he is gorgeous with his sleeve tattoos and muscled arms, a chiseled jaw and a pair of enticing eyes.

“You do know who you’re talking to, yes?”

He scoffed, but nodded. Of course he knew you. Your father had been trying to get into Japan for as long as he remembered, and it was his job to know all the heirs of the syndicates that posed a threat to his family.

The L/ns are on the top of that list.

“Then why are you speaking to me?”

“Why not? Italy is neutral ground, is it not? Surely you wouldn’t do anything.”

“What makes you so sure?”

You had expected his response to stay playful like he had been so far, but you stopped when his eyes went dim and hooded when he looked down on the coffee cup he was holding, as if a heavy rain cloud just manifested itself on top of his head.

“You have the same look as I do.”

He looked back at you and you immediately understood what he meant.

The look of exhaustion, of acceptance.

The look that screamed for a freedom that is unachievable.

“...I see.”

Silence reigned between the two of you as you continued to stare at each other, waiting to see who was going to do the next move. Unable to stand the silence and the staring contest, you sighed and held your hand out.

“I should introduce myself properly then. I’m L/n Y/n.”

Meian didn’t even hesitate to take your hand and shake it.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Meian Shuugo.”

*****

“Hey, the Antiques Fair is coming up this sunday. Would you like to accompany me?”

You looked away from your phone and to Meian who was looking at you expectantly.

It has been nearly two months since then.

Everyday, it became a routine for you to meet Meian at the coffee shop and just talk about everything, ignoring the fact that you’re both syndicate heirs that are hanging on top of your heads.

You both avoided that topic entirely, choosing to enjoy the temporary peace that you felt for once in your life.

“Are you asking me out, Mr. Meian?”

This was the first time he asked you to go somewhere with him, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly playful in your response. However, the smile on your face disappeared at the redness that appeared in the male’s ears and the sincerity in his eyes.

“Meian. Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“You know we can’t.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“Meian…”

He reached over the table to hold your hand in his, keeping his eyes on the way his hands dwarfed yours.

“I know we shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But… But I’m starting to like you.”

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, louder than the first time you heard a gun being fired in an enclosed space. You can feel and hear it pounding so loudly, you were afraid that Meian was going to hear it.

You shouldn’t even debate whether you should say yes or not, for this was a way for you to finish your job.

And it’s not fair because you have grown attached. Attached to his soft smiles and the way he would hold his arm out like a gentleman to keep him from accidentally leaving you behind when you’re walking around. Attached to the deep, rumbling laughs when he saw something funny or when you did something amusing.

You are hesitating, because you have started to like him too.

You know you have, because you found yourself looking forward to seeing him again the next day after the end of every day. You know because you found yourself looking a little more at him, your hands lingering by his arm a little longer.

You have grown attached and have begun to like Meian Shuugo, and it’s making you hesitate on whether or not you should continue the job, regardless of what your father wanted.

You could feel your hand shaking in his hold, and Meian waited patiently for your answer. He knew that you’re struggling to form one, unable to choose between your loyalty to your family and your syndicate, and your budding feelings for him.

He didn’t have that big of a struggle, for he knew that his mother would back his decision up any day, even if it is with you.

You looked at him with a shaky smile before nodding, ignoring the way your mind had been whispering that this was a bad idea.

Because you knew that it was a bad idea, and that this can go downhill faster than you can say hello to a stranger in the street.

And yet you couldn’t stop yourself from letting it happen.

You just hoped that it doesn’t go in the worst route possible.

*****

The Antiques Fair is held every last Sunday of the month, where citizens of Milan get to showcase and sell various antiques that they had kept all throughout the years. Meian found beauty in it, and from the way your eyes sparkled as you looked at one antique to the next, you did too.

You were adorable in his eyes, the way you bargained for a few items in broken Italian, yet somehow still managing to get your way.

“Meian, look! I found this gorgeous necklace!”

“I thought I invited you here? How come you’re the one going from one stand to the next?”

You pouted at him, and he had the sudden urge to kiss you stupid. Really, he wanted to, but he knew that it’ll push you away. So he settled with holding your hand and tugged you to him.

“Come on, Principessa. Let’s continue walking around.”

He never said anything about the blush on your cheeks as you continued to walk around.

Something caught his eyes, and he let you wander off for a bit to check it out.

A group of four rings, all with matching amethyst stones. It’s antique, with the silver bands looking a little worn, but still strong enough to be worn for fifteen years at the least. One of the rings is large enough for his own finger, and another one, he knew would fit you well. But the final two are identical tiny ones, and he knew they wouldn’t even fit his pinky.

“The smallest ones are meant for children,” The stall owner said, his english heavily accented. “The rings are meant for a family.”

“Why are you selling them then?” Meian asked as he gently cradled the rings in his palm.

“My wife has passed, and our children have grown too old for such sentimental things. I think it’s time that they find a family that will appreciate them.”

Meian looked at the rings and back at you that was still distracted by the little trinket that caught your eyes. Before he could even think more about it, he was already reaching for his wallet.

“How much for the rings?”

*****

Every week, Meian would take you on little dates, ranging from something simple as hopping from one dessert place to the next, or something as complicated as an opera performance with an added dinner at the end of the night.

Every week, you had begun to fall deeper.

It’s been six months since the tryst began, and you have been ignoring your father who had been asking for updates by the second month.

You were too afraid to answer his calls, not wanting to burst your bubble of peace just yet. He couldn’t send anyone to you either, not without making anything suspicious to the other syndicates that were wandering about the neutral territory that was Italy.

Your teeth chattered slightly as the cold January air hit you when you walked outside the apartment you had decided to rent for the course of your stay in Italy.

Six months have passed, and you found yourself stuck in the middle of two choices with no way out. Your syndicate was your family, the one thing you have been conditioned to be loyal to. But Meian…

Meian was starting to become your home.

So what do you do? Should you let Meian go and suffer the wrath of your father? Or do you kill him and start a war between your two syndicates and appease your father?

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You didn't even jump at his voice, more than used to Meian popping up out of nowhere. You looked at him with a smile, ignoring the incessant buzzing of your phone in your bag.

"Nothing much, just… a few things."

"Care to tell me what they are?"

"And destroy the mood? No thank you."

Meian tilted his head to the right, dark eyes observing you in curiosity. You know that he understood the implications behind your words, more than used to having to read between the lines. It hurt him that you chose to keep that train of thought to yourself, but he understood.

Which was why he lent an arm out to you instead.

"Alright then. Shall we go? Before we miss dinner reservations?"

You nodded your head and let him lead you to the upscale restaurant, chatting softly about anything he could think of. His voice left you distracted, mind blanking with anything but the presence of the man beside you.

Meian had that effect on you, and the longer you spent time with him, the easier it was to forget everything else.

As the night progressed and the wine that you two had consumed during dinner began to take effect slightly, you found yourself watching the way Meian would cross his arms and flex them, and the way he would smirk when he saw the rosy tint that dusted your cheeks.

You rolled your eyes at him, not wanting to show more of the fact that he has affected you in a way you never thought he would. This was not what you had signed up for when you agreed to go on a date with him.

You had not signed up for deeper attractions, ones that you know could not be intertwined with your lives. It will cause problems, and cause a whole ‘nother mess that you do not wish to deal with. But with Meian, it was entirely too easy to ignore the possibilities of complications that can arise with such a matter.

He walked you back to your apartment, and you fiddled with your fingers as you stood in front of him.

Meian waited for you to say something. He knew that you had something on your mind, something you want to say, so he stood still, waiting patiently.

“Meian…” you started to say, before you shook your head and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I really enjoyed tonight. Good night,” you continued and before he could respond, the door had been closed in his face.

You knew that the sudden change in your demeanor had confused him. You had always spoken you mind around him with no hesitation unless you didn’t want to ruin the mood.

He stared at the door in confusion. You had never hesitated around him, yet you did. Just how heavy was the weight of your thoughts and what made you hesitate?

As you leaned on the door, listening for him to leave, you can only sigh. Of course the weight off your thoughts were heavy. How can they not be?

Especially since your thoughts were about the fact that you had fallen in love with the very man that you were supposed to kill.

*****

Your mind was a mess, and you knew it.

You were stuck in the middle. Your father had just called you, demanding that you do your job and kill Meian. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t.

You cannot kill the man you love.

You grabbed your hair and tugged on it. You knew that you were losing it somehow. Stuck betweeen wanting to do your duty as the heir and your father’s daughter, and choosing Meian and yourself.

You knew you were panicking, lost and confused. So much so that you didn’t hear someone sneaking into your apartment, not until you felt a pair of hands on your own. You looked up and found Meian’s eyes looking down at you in worry and understanding.

“Meian?”

“Deep breaths, sweetheart. Follow my breathing.”

You followed as he said, letting yourself be guided into a state of tranquility. Neither of you had any idea as to how long it took. All you both knew that the moment you relaxed, you collapsed into Meian’s arms with a sob.

You didn’t want to think of why he was even in your apartment, just simply content and thankful that he is. You knew that he deserved an explanation, however.

“Papa called me-“

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“I want to, Shuugo.”

The use of his given name was enough to shut him up and listen to you. He didn’t want to hear what you were going to say. Or rather, he didn’t want to confirm his suspicions. But he let you talk, knowing that you needed to tell him fo your own peace of mind.

“Papa called me into his office nearly 8 months ago. He gave me a mission. He received information that the Meian Heir was going to be in Italy. He sent me here to seduce you….and kill you.”

Meian sighed. His suspicions have been confirmed, yet he couldn’t blame you.

He would’ve killed you in cold blood too, if he was given the task. But he was confused as to why you haven’t done it yet. He didn’t need to ask, for you answered his question before he could even voice it.

“I can’t kill you. Shuugo. Not when I have fallen in love with you.”

Meian spoke up before you could even finish your sentence.

“Run away with me.”

Meian’s heart thudded in his chest as he waited for your reply. It was sudden, it was shocking, but both of you knew that you both had been thinking the same sentiment.

You both have entertained the idea of running away, of being far from your responsibilities and living a life of anonymity, a life with no guns and drugs and drama and death.

Meian was more than happy to run away. He knew that his mother would support his decision, for it was something she wished to do herself, something she would’ve done if not for the love and loyalty she felt for her husband and Meian’s father.

Now, the only choice left is up to you.

Would you risk it? Risk your father’s wrath? Risk being hunted down like a game by your father’s henchmen? Would you risk it all for Meian Shuugo, the man you love?

You looked at Meian who was still waiting for your answer, and thought back to all the time you spent with him. All the joy, the laughter, the freedom.

And how he calmed you down just now.

“I’ll run away with you.”

Yes. Yes, you would risk it all.

All for Meian Shuugo.

*****

Six years of bliss. Six years of bliss and peace have passed, that both you and your lover had almost forgotten the fact that you were the heirs to the two most dangerous mafias in the world.

Almost.

You glanced at your phone, waiting.

Your father has stopped contacting you about Meian within two years of your escape, yet you still hope and wonder that he would contact you, ask you to come home and accept the fact that you have fallen in love with the enemy.

But you knew differently. Deep in your heart, you knew differently. Your father is a mean man, and you knew that his silence only meant planning. Planning for what, you didn’t know exactly.

All you know is that it is leaving a bad taste on the back of your throat.

“Mama!”

Your head snapped up and looked at the little girl running towards you, a doll that suspiciously looked like you in her hand while her brother followed behind her sedately.

“What is it, Akari?” You said as you kneeled down to be on the same level as your daughter.

“Papa got me a doll!” Akari said excitedly, waving the doll around. You smiled and patted your daughter’s head while you smiled at your son, Kane, who was holding his own toy from their father.

After you ran away, you and Meian’s first stop had been a chapel in Italy for a quick wedding. Two years later, you and Meian had been blessed with the arrival of your two little angels, Meian Kane and Meian Akari.

Your twins, now at four years old, looked remarkably like their father, with your hair and eye colours. They were little blessings in your life, along with their father and your husband.

“That toy is cute, baby. Where’s your papa?” You asked, and both children pointed at the little cottage house you’ve been staying in for the past year. “Come on then. Let’s go back inside, hmm?”

As you led the twins back inside, you can’t help but feel as if someone was watching you, or the feeling of impending doom washing over you.

*****

You crumpled the paper in your hand in devastation and anger.

You had just gotten home from a short grocery trip when you found that the door had been left wide open. It wouldn’t have alarmed you if not for the fact that neither you or Meian leave the door open. Kane and Akari had the habit of wandering out in the area without any supervision.

Your heart dropped as soon as you walked past the door.

The place had been ransacked. Tables and couches overturned, the chairs on their sides, cords unplugged, drawers pulled open, pillows and mattresses slashed, and papers everywhere. But those didn’t worry you as much as the drops of blood that you found did.

You walked around, desperately trying to find clues that would let you know that your husband and children are okay when you found the note on the master’s bedroom, neatly placed on top of the destroyed mattress.

"You want your family back? You know where to go.- L/n F/n"

You let out an angry sigh after you dropped the crumpled paper.

You know exactly where to go, and you can only hope that they were safe.

*****

The building you once called home was suspiciously empty. It was once bustling with life, with members and henchmen that wouldn’t even dare to look at you in fear of your father’s wrath. But now, it was empathy, desolate.

You took each step slowly and confidently, eyes straight ahead, despite your anxiety going haywire.

It was unnerving, and your senses heightened as you gripped the guns in your hands tighter. The knives strapped around your thighs and the blade on your back dug into your skin with every step you took to where it all began.

The door to the basement gymnasium, where your father had begun your training, was wide open.

An invitation meant only for you.

You took a step in and immediately found Meian in the centre of the room. His face was swollen and bruised, with blood still dripping down his face. His shirt was off, showing the various cuts and punches inflicted on his skin. He was nearly unrecognisable if not for the fact that you know your husband well, and can pick him out in the dark, in the middle of a dense crowd, even blindfolded.

You ran towards him, cupping his still bleeding face softly.

“Shuugo? Honey?”

Meian groaned slightly, but stayed unconscious, his head hanging low.

“Well. If it isn’t the prodigal daughter.”

“...Father.”

You didn’t need to look back to know who it was. Even after six years of not seeing him, your father’s voice still haunts you in your dreams. You turned around and faced your father, a fake smile on your face.

“I’m no prodigal daughter, father. Prodigal suggests that I have come home on my own volition and regret.” You said, the fake smile on your face disappearing and being replaced by a stone cold look. “I was forced to return here, for you have taken my husband and children from me.”

“Husband. Ha!” Your father scoffed out, a sneer on his face. “You call that man your husband. The Hirugami heir would’ve been a better fit for you.”

Your nose scrunched in disgust. While you had no problems with Hirugami Fukuro, you cannot see yourself with anyone but your husband.

“I hold no emotional connection to Hirugami Fukuro, father.”

“You would’ve, if you hadn't run away. Your union with him would’ve been a great boost for the syndicate.” He said offhandedly, and it was then that it had sunken in, the fact that you are nothing to your father. You never have been anything to him aside from the means to elevate the syndicate and it’s reach.

“Did you ever even see me as your daughter? Your only child?” you asked in disbelief.

And your father?

He laughed. He laughed as if you had spoken the funniest joke in existence.

"Not at all. You're my child, yes. But you are of no use to me, for you are weak. And weaklings...well."

You gripped the gun in your hands tightly. You couldn't break. Not now, when your husband is injured and your children are nowhere to be found.

Not now, when your family needs you the most.

You took a deep breath and looked at your father.

"What do you want, Father? Why couldn't you just leave me alone? My family alone?"

"Family? That man is not your family." He said, pointing his own gun at your still unconscious husband. "The syndicate was your family. Yet you abandoned us for something as silly as love. With a Meian nonetheless!"

You gritted your teeth in irritation, and before you knew it, you had fired the first shot.

Your father, while getting old in number, was no slouch. He had always kept up with his own training, and was able to dodge the bullet. He fired his own shot back at you, which you dodged and moved closer to him.

Your father may be better than you with guns, your skill with blades and knives as well as hand to hand combat was unmatched in the syndicate.

You let him continue to shoot in your direction while you dodged and used every opportunity to get closer and closer to his position.

As soon as you got close enough to him, you pulled the long blade from your back, the one you had forged with your teacher as soon as you passed his training. The shootout turned into a clashing of blades, and you can almost see a bit of sparks flying off with every metal colliding.

"How could you betray our family, our legacy like this?" Your father spat out, his eyes, one that you got from him, were blazing in anger.

And just like his eyes, the anger was mirrored in yours. Within moments, you overpowered him and pushed him to the floor, the tip of your blade directly on his throat.

"How could I? How could you choose the syndicate over your real family? Your own daughter?"

Before he could answer, in walked a man you haven't seen in years, a man you trusted with your life, holding your twins at gunpoint.

"...Nobu?" You asked in disbelief and shock, your grip on your blade loosening, allowing your father to push you on your back and kick your blade far away from you.

You didn't care much, for your eyes are still on one Aone Takanobu; the man you had considered your best friend, the gentle giant you adored your whole life, was holding your kids hostage.

Aone was your closest friend. And yet here he is, coldly and blankly looking at you, his gun pointed at your children's head.

The very gun you gifted him on his 18th birthday.

"Hmm. Cute kids. Too bad their half...Meian." Your father said as he grabbed Akari by the chin to look at her before looking back at you with a sinister smile that made your heart drop.

Your fears grew as his smile grew, and it didn't take you long to know why.

"Choose, my dear daughter. Kill your husband and finish your mission, or your children will die by my hand."

Your blood ran cold as your eyes widened to your father's words.

“Absolutely not, Father.” You spat out as you slowly stood up.

“You have to, dear daughter. You have half an hour to choose. If you don’t, your children will die.”

You looked at Aone, desperately begging him through your eyes to save your children, but his brown eyes just looked at you in betrayal, as if you were a traitor. In his eyes, perhaps you are, for you chose Meian over your years of friendship with him, and your own family.

If anything, he’d be more than happy to rid the world of your children, the children he sees as abominations.

Before you knew it, they left with your children, leaving you locked in with your battered husband. You made your way to Meian and untied him, laying him down gently on the ground.

“Shuugo. Shuugo please wake up.” You begged as you tried to get your husband to return to consciousness.

“I’m awake, Y/n.” Meian said, his voice gravelly and hoarse from screaming in pain.

“So you know…?”

“I do.”

You looked at your husband before you began to sob, feeling just as lost, if not worse as 6 years ago. What were you supposed to do? Your father, the very man that raised you, is making you choose once again.

This time, between the man you love and the very children that you birthed.

You began to sob harder. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t kill your husband years ago. Today is no different.

But you couldn’t let your father and friend kill your children, your little angels either.

So what are you supposed to do now?

“...Kill me, Y/n.”

Your tears froze as you looked up at your husband, desperately wishing that you misheard him. But the rueful smile on his face said otherwise.

“Shuugo…”

“Protect our children, Y/n. They are the heirs to two of the most dangerous syndicates in the world. Choose them.” Meian said. “Kill me and save them.”

You sat by Meian, arguing and thinking of a plan, any plan, that would end with no more bloodshed, at least not from your side. But you are coming up blank, and time is ticking. Before you knew it, your father walked back in, a smug smile on his face.

“What is your decision, Y/n?”

“...father...please. Why are you doing this?”

Your father laughed coldly.

“Just for the fun of it. Now, choose.”

You placed your free hand over your mouth to keep your sobs in as you lifted your gun up and pointed it at your husband;s chest, tears falling freely down your face.

“I love you so much, Shuugo.”

“I love you just as much, Y/n. You and the kids. Take care of them for me.”

You nodded, and pulled the trigger.

©Sirena-blogs 2021 Please do not plagiarise or repost my works.

#Meian shuugo #meian #meian angst #haikyuu dark content #haikyuu angst #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu meian #sirena blogs

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sunmoontruth-stiles · 4 years ago

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Ok this is gonna be long. I’ve literally been slowly working on this for… too long. I’m just in a mood to have a long discussion about ships. I’ll be looking at canon and not, so bare with me. I don’t ship all of these personally. I’m mostly just picking the most popular ones. I chose to leave out a few that I just don’t want to talk about. I tried to keep this loosely chronological, but that quickly went to hell. None of this is meant to be hate towards anyone’s ship, just my personal opinions on each of them.

Canon:

Scott x Allison: True Classic

Scallison is so sweet as it is truly the epitome of young love. Romeo and Juliet, except Romeo is even more of an idiot and Juliet is a badass who dies for a cause. They’re moral and ethical codes are both highly valued by themselves, even if they don’t align with others very often. They loved with everything they had. They were beautiful. We’re they soulmates in the end, or just the first love who will always hold a special place in your heart? Who knows, but I’ll always love these immature kids who thought their love could change everything.

Stiles x Lydia: The Long Awaited

Stydia is as slow burn as you can get. Unfortunately their actual getting together was slightly rushed in my opinion. They didn’t have time to find their own as a couple because Stiles just wasn’t in the show enough at that point. I know the reasons behind it, but it did leave this couple at an awkward stage of official-but-not-shown. The idea that Stiles loved her as a kid, immature and infatuated, and he saw her for who she really was, will always be cute. Then they grew, changed, became friends, and found other people. Them finding each other later on, having real love that’s developed slowly, is a wonderful arc. Though, a part of me will always believe they should have pursued other story lines in the wake of Stiles’ absence from the plot. They’re finally together! …but we don’t get to see it.

Jackson x Lydia: The Image

Oh Jackson and Lydia. Honestly, I love them. Their connection at a time in their lives when they couldn’t open up to anyone else, just hits me right in the feels. I mean, god that HUG. You know the one. Always brings me to tears. I’m so sad their relationship was almost entirely depicted during Jackson’s kanima time when he couldn’t think nor truly act for himself. Those small moments of scared vulnerability when he wanted to protect her from himself… I’ll miss these two. They deserved to find other people and remain life-long friends. I loved their moment in the last episode. I wish they’d gotten to see each other grow. Also they had such bixbi solidarity vibes, and I’ll die on that hill.

Scott x Lydia: Leaders

Ok, I’m gonna be honest here. I ship it. The power couple they would have been?? Also them coming together after they lost Allison would have actually made sense. A part of me kinda wishes the writers had moved on from Stydia as a romantic relationship and leaned into them growing as friends and Stiles moving on from his childhood crush. Scott and Lydia actually would have had good chemistry. They were both very headstrong heroic types, but Lydia would have balanced Scott out well intellectually. They had the history, and I think it could had worked if they wrote it right. Plus, Scott and Lydia would have been a better endgame that Scalia.

Scott x Kira: New Beginnings

These two were adorable. Kira was a badass, don’t get me wrong, but she let herself be soft in a way Allison was always afraid to. This couple was truly Baby. Absolute dorks. I can definitely see the lasting quality between the two of them. They saw things very similarly, and had a ton in common. I do think Kira deserves more characterization outside of their relationship, like more of her friendship with Malia. Overall, her departure from the show will always be sad to me. It was bad writing. Scott was over her far too quickly.

Aiden x Lydia: Pretty People Herd

I honestly didn’t see much between these two other than mutual attraction. The best thing to come out of this relationship was Lydia’s line, “You’re not just a bad boy, Aiden. You’re a bad guy. And I don’t want to be with the bad guys.” Good character development moment.

Ethan x Danny: Step to Redemption

Danny really was the thing that made Ethan look outside of the pack for what he really wanted out of life. They had a few cute scenes. Gotta love Danny’s final remarks, “Dude, it’s Beacon Hills.”

Allison x Isaac: Unexpected Rebound

Ok, I like these two. Isaac could match Allison’s snark in a way Scott couldn’t. They both fought the progression of the relationship slightly. They didn’t expect to fall for each other. They were less willing to let someone in close. I’d love to have seen more… but unfortunately their time was limited. On a side note, sometimes their relationship did feel like ‘we both are in love with the same guy, let’s cope with each other’, but I find that completely valid. I’ll talk about Scallisaac later though.

Stiles x Malia: Anchors

Ok but, them <3 I love what they did for each other. Stiles was able to help Malia connect to her humanity and other people. He never tried to isolate her in their relationship and encouraged her growth. Malia offered Stiles the emotional support he never asked for. She defended him, fought for him, and loved him fiercely. Stiles needed that so much after season 3. I think they were a love that wasn’t meant to last, but the impact of it was forever. I wish we’d gotten to see a real end for them where they agreed that they needed to grow as individuals but would always still care.

Liam x Hayden: Three’s a Pattern

These two’s characterization stopped whenever they had storylines together. Their relationship was built on Scallison references. Hayden’s character could have been interesting, but they never really gave her a moment to shine. Liam has the worst plots when they revolved around her. Cute couple, poor writing.

Derek x Braeden: Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girl Boss

Derek deserves to be happy so much. Kate and Jennifer were just... jeez. Him and Braeden were cute and deserved more screen time. I think her intensity allowed for Derek to let go of control a bit more comfortably. Let Derek Be Soft. Anyway, love them.

Corey x Mason: Gotta Have That Rep TM

These two could have been cute if they were shown for more than two seconds at a time. I highkey forget Corey even existed all the time. Kinda just felt like a relationship to fill TW’s gay quota.

Jackson x Ethan: The Callback

Honestly? Loved them. Loved the chemistry. Loved the dynamic. Best twist. I know it was probably written in like that because Colton came out during his time away from the show, but it absolutely fit his character. Jethan is top tier.

Melissa x Chris: BAMF Parent Duo

Ok, so like, Melissa deserved this plot. She deserved someone to care about her. However... what the hell? Chris? In canon, his wife died like 2-ish years prior? His daughter died 1 year prior?? Is Chris really in a position to pursue a new relationship?? Also, like, Scott and Allison dated and loved each other up to her death. Kinda weird to have their parents hook up. I don’t hate it, but I don’t ship it…?

Scott x Malia: Lead up? What’s lead up?

These two came out of nowhere I stg. Like, 6B really tried to tell us this was something that had been slowly developing in the background? Also, I understand that they are their own people, adults, and completely in charge of their own romantic pursuits: but did Scott seriously never call Stiles? Like, Malia wasn’t just his first girlfriend. She was his first. Like, dude that’s your best friend?? Not even a head’s up? No, ‘hey would this bother you?’ Oof. Plus Malia was way too chaotic for Scott. She existed in gray morality that always prioritized her immediate circle, and Scott was a very black/white type of heroism. I just didn’t feel like they fit.

Non-Canon:

Scott x Stiles: Childhood Best Friends

Ya, sorry, I don’t ship Sciles at all. I get it. Like, I totally understand the ship, and I mean no judgment at all. I just see them as friends. I really value good male friendships in media because I feel like we don’t get enough, and I always liked these two.

Stiles x Derek: Enemies to Lovers. 100k. Angst. Hurt/Comfort.

God these two really are what fanfiction was made for. I could write a much longer discussion about Sterek, and I probably will eventually. I’ll try to keep this brief. These two weren’t always on the same side, but their approach was the same. They were very similar at their core. Plus, wow the chemistry. This should have been canon. Jeff’s a coward.

Allison x Lydia: Powerful.

This ship is so great. They really had a great dynamic, and a romantic plot would have easily fit the established narrative. Lydia’s confidence in herself and Allison’s confidence in her own abilities crossing over to each other because that’s what the other lacked? Iconic.

Danny x Jackson: He Gets Him

Danny really saw Jackson for everything he was and still cared. I wished we’d gotten to see more of them. I want more background with Jackson’s eventual coming out and his friendship with Danny. Like, they ended up dating the same guy. What did Ethan have to say about that??

Stiles x Jackson: Bastards

Ok these two had a super fun dynamic. The asshole-energy between them was, great. The snark was always so entertaining.

Melissa x Noah: Family

How were these two not endgame? Their sons were practically brothers already. They had amazing chemistry. The flirting? Not to mention, their timeline would have made way more sense. Missed opportunity.

Chris x Peter: The Opposite of Love is Indifference, Not Hate

Ok so like, this was definitely one of those ships that I had absolutely no knowledge of before I was pretty into the fandom. Like, this was not something I would have guessed just after watching the show. That being said; my god the chaos alone…

Scott x Isaac: The Disaster Duo

Okay ya I love these two. Two dumb asses who act like idiot puppies. Such a fun dynamic. Plus?? Chemistry??? Hellooo

Scott x Allison x Isaac: Three Heads Are Better Than One

This ship is definitely one of my personal favorites. I very rarely poly-ship. I just feel like most of them are just love triangles with an ‘easy solution’, when two of them have no real connection. That is so not the case here. I feel like all of them have such great chemistry with each other. They also have a great dynamic as a group. Season 3A was really just Scallisaac rights.

Stiles x Isaac: I Hate You, jk…Not Really

Ok I loved their banter, but I really just don’t see this ship. Idk, I don’t personally ship it. Would have loved to see their friendship develop more tho.

Erica x Allison: Duo that would stab you with a stiletto

I don’t ship it, but I do wish we’d seen them become friends. I feel like they had a very artificial ‘girls fighting over a boy’ dynamic? They could have been such a badass duo.

Stiles x Erica: Batman x Catwoman

Ok I’m not sure exactly how to express my feelings for these two so bare with me. OMG I love their dynamic so much, and they are sooo cute. Their energy? Amazing. Chemistry? Great. History? It’s there and has so much potential. 10/10. Love them. But, no, I don’t ship it lol. Just really love their friendship, but with the underlying history of crushes.

Boyd x Erica: Was This Not Canon?

How can anyone not love Berica? Ugh they are adorable. These two deserved so much better.

Boyd x Cora: Survivors

Honestly I don’t really see it? Like they definitely had a connection, but it never felt romantic. I really feel like they just had to lean on each other and bond to make it through captivity, and it just lasted.

Boyd x Erica x Cora: The Pack

I literally learned this was a ship a couple days ago. Similar feelings towards this as Bora, but with the added hesitancy of we never actually saw Erica and Cora interact.

Cora x Stiles: Slow Build Up

These two were clearing being lined up to be a thing before Cora ended up leaving. I can’t say I’m disappointed they never happened. Kinda felt like they just wanted to straight-code Sterek.

Cora x Lydia: Mean Lesbians

Not much interaction to actually go off of, but yes I 100% support. They have very different approaches to problems, which is fun. Very ‘opposites attract’.

Malia x Kira: “Maybe you could date the coyote?”

Another one of my favorites!! They really complimented each other. Also, how full circle would they have been? They were introduced in back-to-back episodes. Malia stalking her as a coyote? The line from Kira’s dad about dating it? It would have been so funny if that ended up happening.

Malia x Lydia: Beauty and the Beast, but make it wlw

These two were fun. I liked their friendship, but I don’t really ship it. Though, rip Stiles that would have been hilarious.

Parrish x Lydia: The Cop and The Minor

Must I say more? Like, Parrish’s character, so sweet and big rule follower, did not make sense for what went down with Lydia. I love Parrish, but the dynamic just felt off. It didn’t feel consistent with the rest of his characterization.

Parrish x Stiles: The Cop and The Minor, but gay?

Ok, same reasoning as above, but also they had absolutely no connection romantically.

Scott x Theo / Stiles x Theo: Sometimes The Villain is Hot

Ok I’ve put these together because I have the same opinion for both. I don’t ship it. Neither had any rebuilding of trust, and Theo really hurt both of them. I just don’t really think they work.

Mason x Liam: Sciles Puppy Pack Edition

Similar to my feeling about Sciles, I just don’t ship these two. They had a good friendship, from the little we saw of it.

Theo x Liam: Anchors 2: Electric Boogaloo

Another personal favorite! I really don’t even understand why this didn’t go canon?? The elevator scene was just, so intense. They helped each other grow in 6B, and I really loved their dynamic. They should have hooked up.

Honorable Mention?:

Parrish x Laura: What’s canon?

I’ve seen this in fanfic a lot, and I actually really like it lol. I thought I’d add it in here because I do love the creativity of fandoms.

79 notes · View notes

olivarryprompts · 4 years ago

Text

Fanfic Friday #6

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I will post a new fanfic here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/32370130

{Peter Parker’s Field Trip to Stark Industries}

Ships: peppertony, wandanat, sambucky

Warnings: mild anxiety, swearing

Status: married or dating

Wc: 3,281

“-and so that wraps up this lesson. Your homework is to do this worksheet, please hand a sheet back to everyone. I have a quick announcement, and it is very exciting. Given that this is one of the most advanced classes we offer, the school has arranged for us to have a field trip!”

Peter refocused on the word field trip. He didn’t have a good track record for those.

“We will be going to Avenger’s Tower! This is a very exclusive opportunity and you all should be very excited-”

No, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening to Peter. Not now. Oh god. He had a suspicion this was set up by his basically-father. He was going to kill Tony. His teacher went on to blabber about permission slips and NDAs.

“Class dismissed. Please hand your forms in tomorrow as the field trip is on Friday.”

FRIDAY? How could it be so soon. Peter wanted to die. He headed for the door, but was stopped in his tracks by Mr. Blaze calling his name.

“Yes?” he said, turning around. The class had mainly cleared out by now.

“Peter, you're a good kid, and I understand not being the most popular student in school, but we need to talk about the lie you made up about working at Stark Industries.”

“But the internship is re-”

“This field trip is a great opportunity, and I do not want your lies ruining it for yourself or your classmates. Please do not mention it whilst we are there, or there will be serious consequences.”

“It’s a real intern-”

“Please Peter. You should know better than this. See you tomorrow.”

He was tired and fed up of school when he headed into the hallways to see his best friend.

“Hey,” Ned said, meeting him in the hallway.

“Hey,” Peter replied weakly.

“What’s up? Something happened?”

“Nah, just that field trip.”

“Oh the one to Stark Tower! It’s going to be so fun!”

“Right..”

“You’re not excited? I know you work there and stuff, but still.”

“Hmn uh yeah. No it was more Mr. Blaze being a bitch,” he replied, half lying.

“Still thinks you're lying about the internship?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Wanna come over to mine? Build some lego?”

“Nah, got to be home. Too much work to catch up on with all the patrolling I’ve been doing.”

“Gotcha. Well, see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah see you.”

Peter walked to the carpark expecting to find Happy in his black SUV. He was, instead, met by Black Widow.

“Nat?”

“Hey spider boy.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Figured I’d pick ya up and bring you home. Had a second free.”

He jumped into the passenger seat of the jet black convertible.

“How was school паук?”

“Не очень хорошо,” he said easily slipping into Russian. (Not very good)

“Зачем? что-то случилось? (Why? Did something happen?”)

“Да. У нас есть производственная практика в Stark Industries. Что было бы не так уж и плохо, но мой глупый учитель не думает, что я действительно проходил там стажировку, поэтому он отругал меня. Плюс мое паучье чутье сегодня сильно пошло на убыль.” (Yes. We have a field trip to Stark Industries. Which wouldn't be so bad, but my stupid teacher doesn't think I really have an internship there, so he told me off. Plus my spider sense were going off so much today.)

“бедный ребенок. Я могу чем-нибудь помочь?” (Poor kid. Anything I can do to help?)

“Убить Tony за это? (Kill Tony for setting this up?”)

“Нет, детка. Сожалею." (No can do kiddo. Sorry.)

“Разве ты не можешь рассказать другим Мстителям? Особенно папа.” (Can you not tell the other Avengers? ‘Specially Dad.)

“Я не обещаю.” (I won’t, promise.)

"Спасибо.” (Thanks.)

They’d arrived at the tower. There was more to it than he was telling. Ever since he’d moved into the tower, he’d been his safe space. It was his and his families. And he knew it was supid because so many people used it, but still. It felt awful for people from his school to come there. Peter pulled his security card out of his bag, scanning it.

“Peter Parker-Stark, clearance level Alpha 5, all access. Hi baby boss,” Friday, the building's AI called out, “Shall I tell Mr. Stark you’re home?”

“Yeah sure. I’m going straight to my lab, though.”

“Okay sir. Morgan would also like to inform you that she is looking for you.”

“Send her down to the lab.”

“As you wish.”

He hopped in the lift and allowed Friday to take him to floor 89. It was his personal lab. Oren, he’d reprogram Karen, allowed him entry through the glass door.

“Hello Peter, welcome back. What would you like to work on?”

“I’m going to do some work on my web shooters. Play my “workin after school” playlist on, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

He worked peacefully on his shooters design and mechanics for about 30 minutes before Oren alerted him that Morgan was coming up.

“Morgan Stark is requesting entry.”

“Granted.”

The door opened and revealed his basically little sister.

“Hey Mo,” he said, picking up the little girl, “Who let you roam around all on your own?”

“Mummy sent me up,” she smiled.

Peter nodded.

“What are you working on Petey.”

“I’ll show you,” he said, placing Morgan on his work table. He’d quickly made sure there was nothing that could hurt her.

“Web shooters?” she guessed.

“Yep. See I wanted to make them even more efficient so I changed the gears and trigger mechanism.”

She nodded knowingly. She was very smart for her age.

“Nice! Can we build our robot?”

“Sure thing. Oren, pull up the files for Petey-Pie and Morgana’s Robot.” He’d let Morgan handle the name for their creation.

Peter went and grabbed the box that had all their pieces in it. Being careful around the young girl, they continued to work on building the robot, Peter teaching her little things on the way.

So he had a normal evening. Did some fun work, some homework, ate dinner with the lunatics called the avengers, and went to bed.

“If it isn’t my two favorite small children!” Tony said, entering his lab.

“Daddy!” Morgan said, running into her father’s arms.

“Oren, I thought I told you to lock Dad out.”

“Unfortunately your father runs the building, so I could not follow your wanted protocol.”

“Love you too kid.”

“You set up the field trip.”

“Field trip?”

“Yeah. My school’s coming here on Friday!” Peter said, looking up from his work.

“Really? Nope wasn’t me. It was likely someone from PR, kiddo. You do go to one of the best STEM schools in the country.”

Tony had a point.

“Right...sorry.”

“It’s good, kid. What’s got you so wound up about it?”

“Daddy, I’m going to Mummy.”

“Okay kiddo, Friday take little Potts to bigger Potts,” he said with a smile.

“Yes sir.”

Once Morgan left, Tony asked again, “So wanna talk about it?”

“Just, just this is home. My home. And I know that’s stupid because it’s a fuckin 100 floor tower, but I know it. I know it so well, and I just don’t really want kids from my school here. I know I can’t gatekeep a building bu-”

“Hey, hey, it’s not stupid. It makes sense. This place is home and you don’t want them messing with any part of it. I bet most kids in your class wouldn’t love it if people came into their home for a field trip.”

“Yeah. And i-its my safeplace. From everything.” Everything being all the people he lost. His parents and uncle and aunt.

“I get it. Want me to have Pep cancel the trip?”

“N-no, no. All the kids in my class were so excited.”

“Always so selfless,” Tony smiled, “When is it again?”

“Friday.”

“Kiddo, I promise it’ll be fine. If anything, anything happens just get Fri to call me or Pep. Most of the avengers will be around too so you can call ‘em too.”

“Yeah. Thanks. They’ll just try to embarrass me, though,” Peter laughed.

“They will. Do I need to sign something?”

“I’m just going to have Mum do it because her signature is less recognizable.”

“Yeah, okay. Your teachers still don’t believe you?”

“How did you know th-”

“Come on kid, I’m Tony Stark.”

Peter smiled, “Fair enough. Yeah they don’t. I mean they will after the trip.”

“Yeah, that’s the bright side.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then. Don’t stay in here too late.”

The night before the field trip he was so nervous. He ended up eating dinner in his lab. Pepper complained but Tony just told her he’d had a long day and deserved a break.

He knew he should have gone to bed but as each hour passed, he got more and more anxious about the trip. He needed something to take his mind off it, so he just kept working and working. Suddenly it was seven in the morning and he needed a shower. Finishing his eighth coffee of the eve, he headed to the 91st floor where he stayed. Hoping that neither of his parents would notice his all nighter he crept into his room.

After getting ready for school, he made his way back out of his room.

“Morning,” Pepper greeted him, “How was last night?” She wore a knowing smile as she continued to tap on her computer, presumably doing work.

“Fine,” he smiled, “Don’t tell dad.”

“I won’t. You're turning into him, though.”

“What else was expected?”

Pepper just smiled, “Sam and Bucky had loads of pastry delivered to the main kitchen if you wanna pop in there.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks.”

“By sweetie, have a good day at school.”

“Thanks. Love you.”

“Love you too, hun.”

Peter jumped in the lift taking him up two floores to the Avengers hang out space.

“Spiderling!” Sam and Bucky greeted

“Old Man, bird boy,” he smirked.

“You look like shit, паук,” Nat said from the sofa.

“Thanks,” he said, putting a few of the delicious looking treats onto his plate. He also grabbed himself another cup of coffee. He plops himself down next to Nat on the sofa.

“Did you not sleep again? You look like hell.” Tony said, entering the kitchen to get himself another cup of coffee.

“Right back at you dad.”

“Fair.”

Steve entered, coming back from his run.

“Hey,” he said, addressing the room, “God kid, you look like yo-”

“OKAY NEXT PERSON TO TELL ME I LOOK SHIT IS GETTING IT!”

“Oh sorry,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. Clint came in with Pietro at his side, “What’s this about Peter looking shit?”

“I hate you all,” he said, finishing his last bite. He laid down on the sofa.

“Oh ah kid, something I needed to tell you. Right, you can stay here. No need to go to school and back. Pepper wrote a note saying you’d meet at the school because you had a doctor's appointment or some shit.”

“Why is spider boy here?” Sam asked.

“School field trip.”

“Only you Parker,” the White Wolf laughed.

“No embarrassing me, please,” he begged.

“Hell no, this is a great opportunity,” Sam said, looking over to bucky.

“I won’t,” Nat said with her hands up.

“I’m in, team embarrass Peter,” Clint said, high fiving Bucky and Sam. At that moment, Wanda walked in heading straight for her girlfriend’s arms. Nat happily let her fall into her lap.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Nat asked with some level of concern.

“Everything,” Wanda said.

“Drama queen,” Pietro scoffed. Peter closed his eyes and let the conversation happen around him. At some point, Tony had left. Clint had gone off to train with the Dumb and Dumber, and Steve claimed he had a mission brief.

Friday’s voice startled him, “Peter, I recommend you head downstairs as your class is arriving in 5.”

“Five what?” Peter questioned.

“Four,” The AI continued.

“A LITTLE MORE WARNING WOULD BE NICE!”

Peter grabbed his shit and jumped into the private elevator as fast as he could. Luckily, he was in the lobby mere moments before the class entered. He pretended just to be standing around.

“Peter,” Mr. Blaze called, “Please come and join the class.”

Peter nodded, spotting his best friend amongst the crowd.

“Hey,” Ned greeted.

“‘Sup.”

“Good morning everyone,” said the tour guild, “My name is Tamiko Hiroki and I will be taking you on your tour today. To start, I will be giving you all badges. When I call your name please step up and collect it.”

She made her way through the basket and by the time she was done only one student had not received a badge.

“Hey, Peter didn’t get a badge,” Cindy Moon, a kind girl in his physics class, called.

“Apologies, there doesn’t seem to be one in here for a Peter.”

“Uh I-i, I have m-my own. Thanks Tamiko.”

“Oh okay, cool. Please follow me to security.” The class seemed shocked. Was the kid telling the truth about his internship?

“So, there are many different levels of pass here. Guests get Beta levels 1-5 depending on what they are doing. Then there’s Omega’s who are interns and such. Next is the scientist and important employees with Zeta. Finally there’s Alpha for major important roles such as department heads. The top level, Alpha 5, contains the most important people like the Avengers who live in the tower and CEO Pepper Pots.

“Tamiko Hiro, Clearance level Beta 5.”

“Don’t worry everyone, that's Friday, the AI who runs the building. Just keep passing through.”

“Philip Maiko, Clearance level Beta 1.”

“Michelle Jones, Clearance level Beta 1.”

Peter headed towards the back, allowing all the students to go in front of him. He prayed they didn’t hear his security protocol. The rest passed through with Beta 1. Then, Peter came up.

“Peter Parker-Stark, clearance level Alpha 5, all access. Hi baby boss,” Friday, the building's AI called out, “Shall I tell Mr. Stark you’re home early?”

“I’m on a field trip, Fri. No need to tell D-Mr. Stark. Thanks.”

The class, once again, looked shocked.

“Why does Penis Parker have all access?” Flash called to Tamiko.

“I do not believe I have clearance to disclose that information, but Peter here may answer,” Tamiko said, glaring at Flash.

“I mean I’ve said it before. I am a personal intern of-”

“PETEY!” Bucky yelled, giving him a hug from behind.

Deflated, he responded, “Hey Buck.”

“Is that all I get?

The two settled on one of the many sofas in the lab. Pete’s head in Tony’s lab.

“Sorry about that, Pepper explicitly told all tours to stay off this level, but it seems as though her assistant made an exception because she thought it was okay as you were on the tour. Pepper fired her.”

Only his mum, “She didn’t have to do that.”

“She was furious.”

“Oh I’m sure.”

“I know this is your safe space, so-”

“It’s okay. No one came in.”

“Yeah.”

“You feeling any better?”

“Just tired. Thanks.”

“Always kiddo. You wanna go upstairs? Take a nap?”

“Sure.”

#mcu fanfic #irondad #tony stark #peter parker #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat #pepper pots #peppertony #morgan stark #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #family fic #found family #peter parker field trip

47 notes · View notes

docholligay · 4 years ago

Note

Pharah/Mercy, Swingset.

MY FIRST FLUFF OF THE DAY! I hope you like it, 1600 words.

Love Like an Inheritance

Angela Zeigler thought many things of her wife, and would have described her in many different ways. Protective. Loyal. Reliable. Dedicated. Principled. Intelligent. Thoughtful. But never, in her life, might she have described her wife as ‘spontaneous’ or ‘goofy,’ and yet here she was, with a wide grin, suggesting that Mercy get on the swingset as they passed by the park on the way home.

“I’ll push you.” she nodded, hands in her pockets against the chill, the slightest glint of the beers they’d had at Emily and Tracer’s sparkling in her eye. Not drunk, for Pharah was rarely that, but more than she usually drank and with a hint of careless merriment that was both unusual and charming.

Mercy looked back to the swings, a small smile creeping across her own face even as she shook her head. It was for children, she thought, and they should be getting home anyhow, it was turning late and the October cool was beginning to settle in, that London fog creeping quietly about their ankles, hanging damply.

“I have not been swinging since I was…” she thought for a moment, “I don’t even know, Fareeha, a child.”

“Did you like it?” Pharah tilted her head, “I used to push my cousins, when I lived with my aunt, Zeina. My littlest cousin, Ruqayya---” Mercy laughed, and Pharah wrinkled her nose, “What?”

“Just remembering Ruqayya at the wedding,” Mercy laughed again, “how she was teasing you,” she slipped her hand into Pharah’s pocket, intertwining their fingers, “We should have her to London, again.”

It was Pharah’s turn to shake her head. “She would never come in the winter. A true desert fox, Ruqayya.” She gave a cheerful scowl. “You are distracting me, Angela. Did you like it, when you were young?”

“I am not thinking that I ever was young.”

She had said it off the cuff, but it hung fragile in the air like a spun glass ornament, too true and too bright to look at directly. It had not been a lie, as Mercy was not a liar, and not given to dramatics overly much, but it was true in a way she had never meant to say. She had been a prodigy from the first, in college before she was allowed to ride her bicycle to the store alone, orphaned before she ever had a bat mitzvah. Perhaps they had this in common, grown too soon, and for all the differences others saw in them, and how they laughed at the odd couple, Mercy had always seen the same heart beating in their chests. Old souls who wished for nothing more than to make this world better than they left it, too eager to give themselves over in the service of the greater good.

Pharah squeezed her hand. “Then be young now.”

“You spend too much time with Lena.” She looked away, but blushed.

Pharah chuckled. “I would never argue that.”

Mercy pulled at her hand and brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “Oh, you enjoy Lena plenty.”

“I never said that I didn’t,” Pharah followed after her, “I said I spend too much time around her.”

Mercy stopped as they approached the swingset, gleaming bright silver in the pale moonlight, and stared. Her own reticence surprised her. Mercy was not a woman overly concerned with her own appearances, and it was late enough besides that the only people passing by were on their way home themselves, or bouncing from pub to pub, and would have no idea that a Nobel prize winner was swinging away. Very likely they would not idea who she was, how arrogant to assume that a casual person might have any idea of her work.

Besides, she didn’t want to think about her work. Even those who knew of her had the unfortunate quality of regarding her as a God, when Mercy was all too cognizant of the fact that she could struggle and pull and plead at the gates between life and death, but she was not the final gatekeeper.

Pharah wrapped her arms around her, and put her head on Mercy’s shoulder. “Go on. Get on the swing.”

Maybe it was the schnapps she’d had herself, or Pharah’s strange quality of playfulness that only came out every so often, and mostly only in Mercy’s presence, or maybe it was the play of the moon peeking out from the clouds, but a warmth filled Mercy and she found herself climbing into the swing as Pharah placed her hands on her back and began to push.

“It was a good night.” Pharah said, as Mercy slowly began to sway back and forth.

“Yes,” Mercy looking up to the clouds, knowing that the stars must be twinkling their best behind them, “wonderful.”

And it had been. Tracer was in bright spirits, as ever, and Emily seemed delighted and besotted with her new wife--it made Mercy smile to remember how she and Pharah had been when they were only married half a year--and the meal they’d made had been warm and comforting, if nothing fancy, Tracer, as always, having a excellent selection of drinks and a cake from her uncle’s bakery. Mercy hadn’t expected to laugh so much in one night.

A stronger push, and Mercy went higher, lifting toward those hidden stars.

“You were beautiful, of course.”

At this Mercy nearly laughed. Her hair was simply piled into a clip at the back of her head, like always, the pink sweater and white plaid skirt well worn in deference to Mercy’s gentle refusal to buy anything new for herself unless under duress. She’d put on a bit of foundation, she supposed, and a quick swipe of mascara, but nothing more intricate than that--Tracer and Emily had known Mercy long enough to not be surprised by what she looked like--and so there was nothing very special about the way she looked tonight.

“I am not knowing anything about that.” She turned to look back at Pharah for a moment, her dark eyes with their own stars, unclouded.

Pharah gave a decisive, commanding nod, well practiced. “You were. You never see yourself, in the candlelight, when Emily troubles with it,” another push, higher still, “It makes you...even more beautiful, than you are, always.” She laughed as her hand connected with Mercy’s back again, “I am no poet, Angela, you know this, but you were particularly beautiful.”

She was no poet, she often said, in a gentle balance between self-deprecation and Pharah’s upright honesty. Why then, did Mercy’s heart race when she said things in her simple way, more than with the finest verses of the Rilke her father loved. How shall I hold my soul so it does not touch on yours, no match for Pharah’s straightforward, “I will love and follow you, whatever you decide.” Ah, you were the gardens, ah I saw them with such hope, could never hold a candle to, “I understood what being loved felt like, when you did it.”

“I am not needing a poet,” she called into the sky, “I am not wanting one.”

Indeed, all the poetry she ever needed was carried in all the ways Pharah showed her deep and abounding love. The way she made Mercy’s coffee every morning, and brought it to her in bed. The way she gently nagged over the subject of lunch, when Mercy was poring over papers and results. The small patch of concrete that was their ‘patio,’ cleaned and decorated as a space for the two of them to read and sip coffee in the evenings. The way she looked at Mercy, with a great tenderness her own soldiers might have been forced to smile at.

“Excellent,” Pharah gave a chuckle, “Then I have nothing to fear.”

Rising up above the fog and the clutter of London, eyes fixed to the sky, Mercy imagined what it might have been to have been a normal child with a normal life, if she hadn’t been full of such promise, if she hadn’t been thrown into adulthood without anyone to help her be a child at the age of twelve, if she hadn’t spent so much of her life feeling so utterly alone. Might she have giggled and blushed over girls with the others? Might she have learned to like shopping and had a bustle of friends, not simply colleagues? Would she have wanted to? Would she trade knowing wha she had done for this work and, she thought, what this world had given her?

She dragged her feet on the ground, stopping herself, and looked back to Pharah.

“I would change nothing.” She shook her head as she continued to study the earth-rich loveliness of her straightforward, good, wonderful wife, “You are all I never could have known to ask for.”

At this, even in the darkness, Pharah seemed to blush herself, and took hold of the chains at Mercy’s sides, pulling them away from her, kissing her with a childish zeal and an adult assuredness.

They were never young, Pharah and Mercy, except in small moments. But here on a playground, late at night, they could find a way lay the bricks of innocent, perfect joy that had been taken from them too soon. As they kissed, the world still wavered with the trembles of instability, the buildings across the street were still bullet-scarred, Tracer’s hands still shook from time to time, Reinhardt and Jack still lay dead, and poverty still paired with greed to inflict misery on those who missed its boot. But these things hardly mattered, for even in the chill nothing could kill that verdant garden Rilke spoke of, the one where Pharah and Mercy kept their perfect, bright love.

The clouds parted, and the stars glittered like bubbles in champagne glass, toasting them.

#HON HON HON #the title is also Rilke but from his essays #and like...a minor snippet taken and abridged #seolh

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enchantedxrose · 5 years ago

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The Monster of West End: Chapter Three A Beauty and the Beast retelling set in 1837 London

The “Beauty” of this story is a young seamstress desperate for work to pay off her father’s debts. Her new employer, though Beastly in appearance, is coldly tolerated by society because he has money and status. She is quickly charmed by his warm heart and sense of humor, but his monstrous form isn’t the only obstacle to their budding relationship.

Mrs. Hutchinson led Viola up the servants’ staircase to a small garret bedroom at the top of the house.

“The upper-servants sleep on the upper floors,” she explained over her shoulder, “but I daresay the rooms off the kitchen for the cook and scullery maid are more comfortable. It gets rather drafty up here in the winter and stuffy in the summer.”

Viola surveyed the room with a satisfied sigh. It had creaky floorboards and a low sloping ceiling. The utilitarian furnishings consisted of a nightstand and a brass bed.

“I think this will do very nicely for me,” she told Mrs. Hutchinson without a trace of irony.

The housekeeper raised her eyebrows at Viola’s enthusiasm. “If you say so,” she muttered.

Viola did not pay Mrs. Hutchinson’s skepticism any heed. This room boasted one enormous advantage over her ten-square foot cell in the Marshalsea: a large window with a view.

The single narrow window in their Marshalsea ‘apartment’ faced only the discolored bricks of the prison wall. She could not see the sky, nor even the iron spikes atop the wall to deter escape artists. Her only occasional splash of color came from the laundry hanging on the line, the grey chemises that had once been white. There was nothing green to be seen all summer, save the bare spindly weeds between the paving-stones. They were on the second of four stories in their prison complex, and there was another building directly behind them, so that Viola felt constantly closed in by bricks on all sides.

Even when she was permitted to step outside the gates, the Marshalsea was always creeping up behind her, and she could not escape its shadow. Always trapped.

But here, in Mr. Carlyle’s house, she could breathe. She could see the slate-grey overcast sky above the rooftops; she could look down and see trees lining the cobblestone street, their branches glazed with frost. She could open the window and feel the fresh sting of the winter air.

Guilt gnawed on her, in the background of these hopeful observations, try though she might to wave it away. Was it so wrong of her, to want to leave her miserable circumstances behind? Was it selfish of her to escape like this, when she could not yet bring her father with her?

“Breakfast in the servants’ hall is served promptly at seven o’clock,” the housekeeper announced, abruptly cutting off Viola’s musing. “If you wish for a hot meal, do not be late.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hutchinson,” she replied with feeling, undeterred by her coworker’s sharp tone. “Before you retire, I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am for the opportunity you and Mr. Carlyle are giving me. I hope to prove myself worthy of his trust.”

The words were more deferential than she truly felt, but Viola could sense that Mrs. Hutchinson was suspicious of her in some way, and she wanted to be on better terms with her if they were to be working in close quarters. The housekeeper’s pursed lips relaxed a fraction as she continued to study Viola with that critical, piercing gaze.

“Mr. Carlyle has a partiality for waifs and strays,” Mrs. Hutchinson said at last in a clipped voice. “I need not explain why he feels a…kinship with those that society looks down upon. Therefore, it is incumbent on me to protect him from those that would take advantage of his sympathies.”

“I understand,” Viola said, swallowing hard.

“Do you?”

Of course she did. Viola had lost plenty of sleep over her too-trusting father over the years. But she decided to hold her tongue.

Once alone, Viola rapidly undressed to her chemise. The earlier she retired for bed, the earlier she could rise and return to her father.

She caught her reflection out of the corner of her eye and winced. She had no looking-glass in her cramped quarters at the Marshalsea and usually made do with checking her appearance in the reflection on the single windowpane—an image that was indistinct at best. But the garret room had a large oval mirror propped on the nightstand and she was face-to-face with herself.

Was she really that ashen-faced, or was it just the layer of dust over the mirror? Her linen shift hung so loosely on her, exposing a prominent collarbone and bony shoulder. The shadows were deep under her dark brown eyes.

Ugh, I look like a street urchin with consumption, she thought. No wonder Mr. Carlyle took pity on me tonight.

Viola had a rather square jaw set on a long, slender neck, which automatically gave her a waiflike appearance at the best of times—and now was decidedly not the best of times. Her hair was wispy and flaxen and did whatever it pleased.

She set the mirror face down.

The nightstand, she was pleased to discover, had been prepared for her stay: not only was there fresh water in the pitcher and a clean towel, but also a small cake of soap and a jar of tooth powder. She poured out a little water into the basin to wash her face, but found herself overcome. She had to brace herself on the nightstand and take a few deep breaths to swallow down a sob of incredulous relief.

The water was so clear and clean. It did not reek of rust. When was the last time she had used water without boiling it first? She couldn’t recall.

The garret room was chilly, as it had no fireplace, but when Viola pulled back the covers of the bed, she found a bed-warmer full of smoldering coals, which made the sheets invitingly warm. Exhausted and grateful, she fell asleep within minutes.

Viola went back to the Marshalsea early the next morning, to fetch her meager belongings and kiss her father goodbye. She was not expecting the scene she stepped into.

By the single narrow, grimy window stood Mr. Weston. Hardship had aged him prematurely—his hair was a solid iron grey, and sparse at the temples—and cataracts had taken almost all of his sight from him. He was speaking softly to his eldest daughter, Miranda, and had his hands soothingly upon her shoulders.

While Viola had inherited their father’s slight frame, Miranda took after their mother with her tall, commanding figure, made all the more striking by her wide straw bonnet and puffed gigot sleeves.

At the sound of Viola’s entrance, they both looked up—Mr. Weston’s face brightening with relief, Miranda’s contorting with outrage.

“Oh my dear, we have been so worried,” he said.

Miranda glowered at her. “Where have you been, Vi? We have been scouring the city for you. I hope you have a good explanation.”

Viola presumed the ‘we’ in this case meant Miranda and her husband Eustace, given that their father was not allowed further than the courtyard outside.

“I told the gatekeeper to send word that I’d gone back to Mr. Carlyle’s house for the night, because I missed the bell. Did he forget to pass along the message?”

Mr. Weston raised an eyebrow at Miranda. “There, now, what have I been telling you? I knew there must be a simple explanation—”

Unfortunately for him, Mr. Weston was much more softly spoken than his daughters and easily faded into the background during impassioned discussions. Miranda acted as if she had not heard him.

“Who in heaven’s name is Mr. Carlyle, and what do you mean by staying at his house?”

Viola took a deep breath to calm her temper. “He’s my employer, as of yesterday. I’m to serve in his household as a seamstress. I’m sorry to have caused such a fuss, but I thought you would know where I was.”

“We were about to start dragging the Thames for your lifeless body!” Miranda snapped. “For all we knew, you were frozen to death in the storm.”

Viola rolled her eyes. Her elder sister had once fancied herself a great actress, and even now always seemed to be auditioning for a Greek drama.

Miranda continued, gesturing to her heavily pregnant figure, “And I really ought not to be distressing myself so, not in my current condition.”

“I never asked you to distress yourself about me!”

“Well apparently someone has to, or you’ll gallivant about the city, staying at the houses of strange men!”

Before Viola could muster an angry retort, their father intervened.

“That’s quite enough from both of you,” he said, a note of pleading in his tone. “The important thing is that Viola is, in fact, safe and all is well. There is no need to quarrel over what is already past.”

He stood between the sisters for a long moment, waiting for their petty anger to deflate. Viola’s cheeks burned; their father had a way of making them feel like children caught misbehaving.

“I’m sorry for causing you to worry,” Viola said grudgingly. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“I’m sorry for getting so cross about it,” Miranda mumbled, picking at a loose thread on her coat.

“There, now,” Mr. Weston said briskly. “Was that so terribly painful?”

The sisters avoided each other’s eyes. Mr. Weston ignored their sullen silence and carried on as if the quarrel had never taken place.

“So, Viola, I take it you have accepted the position you interviewed for. Tell me about the house. Where does your employer live?”

“Near Covent Garden.”

“Oh dear.” Mr. Weston wrung his hands, troubled. “Is that a suitable neighborhood for you to be walking by yourself? It’s got rather an unsavory reputation.”

“That was true in your day, Papa,” said Miranda, “but it’s changed a good deal in recent years. They’ve rebuilt most of the houses. Now it’s considered quite a fashionable place to live.”

“Ah.”

Viola’s heart twisted painfully. Their father had been locked away for so long, and London was rapidly changing without him—when he was finally at liberty to walk the streets again, would he even recognize it?

“I’ll return every Sunday afternoon for dinner,” she promised him. “Mr. Carlyle has given me leave to visit you the entire day.”

Miranda cut in sharply. “You mean to say this will be a live-in position? How can you leave our father alone all week? How is he to manage by himself?”

Viola felt a renewed flicker of annoyance. Their father was still quite capable and independent; he did not deserve to be treated like a child or like a doddering old fool. But before she could speak up for him, he did it himself.

“Miranda, my dear,” he soothed her, “I may be blind as a bat, but I am not hopelessly infirm. I know this apartment well enough to get about without stumbling.”

Viola squeezed his hand. “Just promise me that you will ask Mr. Wilkins down the hall to help you light the stove fire in the mornings. I’m sure he won’t object.”

“I promise. I do still have some sense, after all.” He gave her a wry smile.

As Viola predicted, Miranda seemed mollified at the notion of his fellow-inmates checking in on him daily. “Well,” she said briskly, “it seems I am overruled. Gather your things, Vi. Eustace and I can take you in the cab. You are not walking all that way carrying luggage.”

Viola had few personal belongings worth bringing; they fit neatly into a single carpetbag. She owned exactly three dresses at present: two sturdy, practical wool dresses of brown and navy blue, and one finer black gown reserved for holidays and funerals. She didn’t like wearing dark colors, but they lasted much longer against wear and tear and stains. A working woman ought not to wear pink or yellow, if she was at all sensible.

The dour colors did make her look so grim and severe, she reflected morosely. She dreamed of a day when she had spare money enough for a gown pale as springtime, in rosebud or lilac or buttercup. What a luxury that would be!

Underneath the faded chemises and shabby stockings, she tucked her one real treasure: a well-worn collection of Shakespeare’s sonnets, in the margins of which her mother had scribbled her own annotations.

In farewell, Viola took both her father’s hands and kissed them. “I don’t want you to worry about me, Father. This is going to be good for our family, I promise.”

“I know that, my dear,” he said gently. “It’s been clear to me for a long time that you would have to forge your own path.” He leaned over to murmur in her ear, soft enough that Miranda was unlikely to hear. “Try to have a little more patience with your sister. She’s only looking out for you.”

Even though he could not see Viola purse her lips, he must have heard the irritation in her sigh.

“Viola,” he chided. “Be kind to your sister. For my sake, if for no other reason.”

“I’ll try. And now I really must be going; Mr. Carlyle expects my return before noon.”

#my fiction #monster of west end #beauty and the beast #victorian era #chapter four won't be far behind!#i'm about halfway done with it

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years ago

Text

Someone

Summary: Jackson was sick of being the only one in Sheol without a partner. With your help, he found one.

Pairing: Jackson Wang x reader

Genre: demon au / fluff

Warnings: inside jokes that pertain to this world

A/N: Welcome to Demonology everyone! Last year I wrote King of Demons during Frightful October, and since then it’s morphed into a multi-universe that a lot of you enjoy. So many of you have asked me why Jackson always ends up forever alone – well not anymore! Enjoy!

This story can be read alone, but I recommend reading the rest in the series first (or at least King of Demons 1 & 2). You can find the links below.

Word count: 2237

King of Demons series: Havoc // King of Demons // Unfathomable // Sacrifice // King of Demons: The Return // In The Night // Identity // Prophecy // Someone // The Devil Contained // The Monsters Witch

[Frightful October Masterlist]

Letting out a heavy sigh as he dragged the pleading man off to his sentence, Jackson’s shoulders drooped when he was done. He wasn’t fulfilled and he hadn’t been for a while now. Looking across the large arena deemed as Purgatory, the demon’s keen gaze landed on a pair looking awfully cosy with one another for the likes of Sheol. He was at their side in an instant, growling at them both to return to their work. He startled the entities enough that they scampered off, leaving him alone, again.

“You know, if you showed them a little empathy, things might be more productive in here,” you mentioned and with a roll of his eyes, Jackson turned to face you. Grinning up at him, you waved your arm around. “It’s a little chaotic in here of late.”

“That’s what happens when we get a large shipment in to sort through,” he grunted, stalking away from you and this conversation. As the commander of Purgatory, the last thing Jackson needed was to hear how poorly he was running the place.

Especially from the likes of you.

It wasn’t that you were awful, no, you were Jackson’s best subordinate down here. It was just that you were, well, beautifully damaged. You had arrived in Sheol a decade ago, refusing to move on to any other area than his. You had passed the testing stage, not needing to be assigned to a lifetime in punishment. Not every entity that arrived in Hell was wicked, just unfortunate. You were one of them. At the wrong place at the wrong time and committed a crime that covered you in sin.

Everyone down here had a story, yours was just one of the many he knew of.

But your refusal had irked Jackson, and so he accepted your offer to help him run Purgatory. Sometimes, he wondered why he let you stay. Others, he was grateful that whenever he needed to do something out of his jurisdiction, he knew this place would still be running to the level that he expected of it.

He refused to admit openly that he felt you sometimes managed things more efficiently than he did.

“You clearly have a problem,” you mentioned with a smirk, nudging him playfully out of his thoughts. Jackson gave you a pointed look as he returned to his office. You chuckled. “Don’t tell me it’s still about what happened last-”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll make you run the wheel down there for an entire week.”

“It might be good exercise for me,” you quipped, unafraid of his mood. “Why don’t you just admit it? You’re miserable.”

Jackson could agree with you there.

It had been building over some time, the reality of his predicament coming to a head last week. He had been invited to eat at the grand table with the Devil himself, Jaebum often treating those he kept close well. It wasn’t Jackson’s first time dining with him, but it was what he realised whilst he was seated there. As he looked around, next to each of his friends sat their significant other. It had started when Jaebum had brought Princess down here, the vivacious human working her way into his heart and all those around her. She was the catalyst for change here in his homeland, demons, monsters and other entities all alike appreciating her place at the devil’s side. From there though, Princess had opened the door for others, and now all those seated at the table had someone they loved.

Except him.

Sighing heavily again, Jackson shook his head. “I’m tired.”

“Of Sheol or of being alone?”

“Being al – don’t you have work to do, Y/N?!” Jackson asked exasperatedly and your expression softened, nodding brightly.

“All I’m saying is you keep waiting for your fairytale princess to come down from the heavens or cross over from Earthside. You’re a mighty fine demon, boss. Why don’t you look for her instead?”

Jackson couldn’t shake your suggestion. It repeated over in his head for the rest of the day, following him into his dreams and empowering him to make the next step. He woke with renewed enthusiasm, sitting up with a start and clenched his fists together. He had a lot going for him, even Jinyoung had admitted that once. Jackson would find the most perfect partner for him, just like the others had.

He just had to get permission first.

“Earthbound?” the prince of Sheol repeated, glancing up from the ledgers he was working through. Jinyoung’s eyebrows began to weave together, and he removed the glasses off the bridge of his nose to pinch at it. “What business would a demon like you have up there?”

“Love.”

Jinyoung stared at the commander before him, waiting to see where the punch line was. When Jackson gave no signs of his joking self, he blinked rapidly, leaning over his large desk. “Did you say love?”

“Am I not entitled to it? Do I need to go to the heavens instead like you did? An angel would suit me ju-”

“Don’t get carried away,” Jinyoung cut in, shaking his head adamantly. Jackson grinned; he knew that Jinyoung liked being the only one to have tempted an angel to fall from piety for him. Getting up, Jinyoung rounded his desk, coming to sit on the front of it instead. “You can’t just expect angels to flock to you.”

“Didn’t they for you?”

Darting his focus to the adjoining room briefly, Jinyoung then hissed at his friend. “Don’t be foolish, it’s not something you just mess around with.”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea, all the same, to seek out love so earnestly,” Jinyoung’s angel mentioned, appearing from around the corner and slipping an arm around her lover’s waist. “Grant Jackson passage, Jinyoung.”

“Do you think I do everything you suggest?” the prince muttered, nodding soon in response to her request, kissing the side of her head and then giving Jackson a strained smile once she departed the room again. “Do know what you’re getting into when it comes to love, Jackson. Even the Devil himself has mellowed out because of it.”

“I’m more than ready to be whipped by someone like you are,” he remarked, only to feel icy daggers immediately from his friend. He backed off once the gatekeeper’s slip was firmly held in his hand, chuckling as he reached for the door. “You know, if you can radiate that much coldness so quickly, my friend, maybe you should have used that for your brother’s unhealthy ice-cream obsession.”

“Get out before I condemn you to solitude for fifty years instead, Jackson!”

“So, you’re just going to go search up on Earth for a lover?”

Jackson nodded at BamBam’s statement, handing over his ticket of freedom proudly. The gatekeeper grumbled momentarily though his razor-sharp smile soon appeared. “Man, you’re so cool!”

“I know! If I see someone who would suit you-”

“Would you?!” BamBam enthused and Jackson chuckled, slapping his buddy on his arm. “Wow, our friendship goes so deep. You know, I haven’t admitted it much, but guarding this gateway can get really lonely. Youngjae is busy with training Smoosh, and everyone else is off dating humans, entities, angels. It’s all a bit unfair.”

“Sorry to announce it but I too will be joining that group soon!” Jackson announced, speaking out his newfound belief into existence. He smiled at the newcomer to their conversation, his smile growing further when Yugyeom nodded. “Really? You’ve seen me in love?”

“What you must go through to get the realisation you crave might feel hopeless though,” Yugyeom announced, the prophet yawning before walking on by towards his home’s gateway. “Enjoy the process as much as you can.”

Jackson wished he had known what Yugyeom had seen. Earth had been exciting for all of about five minutes. He had wandered around, looking for signs of a human he could lure in the way his King had. He waited for an untimely accident to happen to someone he crossed paths with as Mark had. Jackson was more than ready to accept punishment if it meant he had love to return to.

Nothing stood out to him. Humans were too predictable, rather boring creatures in his opinion. They followed the same routine day in and out and showed no promise of handling him or his position in Sheol. Purgatory was the gateway to punishment, and it was his job to see that everyone ended up in the right factions of Hell. It was important that he found someone who could empathise with him, empowered him when he was overworked and enjoyed the downtime when he had it. Jackson was willing to give his lover all they desired in return.

No human seemed to desire anything with him though.

After a month-long stint above, Jackson was relieved to return to the fiery depths of Hell. Still, he was dejected and you shook your head at his forlorn mood. “Are you really my commander?”

“Don’t, Y/N. I’m not in the mood to be tortured by you.”

You smirked. “Honestly, I thought you were smarter than this. I never said you needed a living human. This place is crawling with all kinds of interesting folk. A demon like you needs someone who is a match unlike no other. Don’t be like the others living their fairytale life with lovers not from here. Look within the shadows, you might just find someone looking back at you.”

“You know, why didn’t I think of that? Sheol is full of opportunities!” Jackson exclaimed, standing up and marching out to work with more vigour. And when he was ready to, he began his search. He tried the fields first, but he only found Youngjae’s monster pets running rampant there. The Cliffside had seemed promising, though the only thing he left with was a migraine after being knocked over the head by a giant. The shadowlands below quite frankly frightened him, and he ran through them as fast as he could.

It was pointless, and Jackson cursed out Yugyeom for lending him hope that there was actually someone out there that would become his someone.

“Don’t,” he warned when he arrived back from his latest journey, your sentence falling short within your mouth. Instead, you moved behind him once he was seated at his desk, hands lifting to his shoulders and massaging away his aches effortlessly. Rolling his head back, Jackson enjoyed your kneading for some time with closed eyes, craving for this to be something he received in the future from a partner.

And then he opened his eyes, staring up at you as you continued to manipulate his muscles. He sighed. “You meant you, all this time, didn’t you?”

“Was it so hard to find me?” you mused, your lips curling up. “Even you have to admit, I compliment you all too well. Here you were looking for a human, well I once was just that.”

“It makes sense as to why I never thought of you until now, Y/N.” You gave him an incredulous look and Jackson grappled at points to argue. “Well, you came here, adamant you wouldn’t leave.”

“Curse me for thinking you were handsome.”

“You picked up this tedious position because I’m handsome?”

“Devilishly,” you remarked, pressing into his shoulder muscles in the right spot. He groaned and you enjoyed having him melt like this with your expert handiwork.

Jackson pulled you away, and promptly sat you down in his lap, so he could look at you. There was no denying you were beautiful to him as well. But you were damaged goods; at least, that’s what he had ruled you as.

“Must I be perfect for your standards?” you implored, and he gaped at you, peering closer to figure if you had some kind of way to read minds too. You giggled. “I’ve known you for so long. Who else works as closely with you than I?”

“That may be true but… but why didn’t you stop me when I stupidly went off to Earth proclaiming I would come back with a bride?”

“Because you were stupid and I was done with you.”

“And then you just let me wander out of here. I went into the shadowland and you know that’s not my favourite place,” Jackson continued, and you smiled, nodding along. “Were you still done with me then?”

“After all your travels, and your adversity, you found me at the end of it all, right?”

“Well, I guess so.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hovered your mouth around his. “Was it worth the journey?”

You kissed him then and Jackson was stunned, you were always bolder than he was. Though it didn’t take him long to catch up, hungrily kissing you back as he explored more of this feeling he was now having about you. His eyes were opening to a world with you in a different way and he kind of liked it.

Loved it, actually.

Just as he went to pull back and reply romantically to you, one of your subjects crashed into the office and you jerked away, cursing loudly at being interrupted before dragging the soul out of there sternly. Jackson blinked slowly before he began to laugh, soon clutching at his sides.

If you were waiting for him at the end of every journey, he would take them all.

_________________

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deludingbetweenities · 4 years ago

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Night. At the garden of the Wrights, LORD JULIUS is sitting on a wooden bench on the center of the stage. Below the bench, there was a couple of leather bags. LORD JULIUS is holding a piece of a white rose from the bushes of roses surrounding the bench.

The only light comes from the BRIGHT MOON. CRICKETS dominate the silence of the wide garden.

LORD JULIUS

What is taking you so long, darling?

(LORD JULIUS scans the whole place)

A RUSTLING sound comes from the bushes makes him stand up.

LORD JULIUS

Who are you? Show yourself!

GEORGE enters from the right holding a small lamp and panting.

George, you scared me to death!

GEORGE

Apologies my lord. Father almost saw me leaving our quarters. Have I kept you waiting, my lord?

LORD JULIUS

Stop calling me that, darling. No one can hear us, you should know that. Call me your love. (Hands in the rose)

GEORGE

(GEORGE puts the lamp on the bench and frowns)

It is best to be cautious, my lord.

LORD JULIUS

(LORD JULIUS walks toward GEORGE for a hug but GEORGE moves aside)

Is there a problem? Have you forgotten your love for me? You are breaking my heart.

GEORGE

My heart also shattered when I saw you dancing and laughing with Princess Lyanna. You must have been living your life that night. While I was serving the ladies that were giggling about how sweet you and the princess were.

LORD JULIUS

Do you mean at the ball?

GEORGE

Indeed, m’lord! You must have forgotten how passionately you were holding her hands. It is a sight. I cannot erase it from my mind, unfortunately.

LORD JULIUS

Oh, my love. Believe me when I say it was not my intention to make you jealous. It is not a secret that the princess and I are promised to each other. Father and the Prince of the Lancaster were watching us. It is merely an acting. Besides, I was hoping to see you that night, where were you?

GEORGE

At the kitchen most likely. Watering wines with my tears. Benjamin was dead worried about me. He almost made me go home and take my responsibilities.

LORD JULIUS

Benjamin? You mean the gatekeeper? I told you my heart sinks when I see you with that gentleman. Darling, do you not think about my feelings?

GEORGE

I am not the one who shall be wed next spring, my lord. Of course, I care for you.

LORD JULIUS

George, will you forgive me for making you feel that way? The image of your face helps me wake up every morning. The thought of you puts me to a night of deep sleep. I cannot imagine how am I supposed to live without you by my side.

GEORGE

Your words are always as sweet as honey. Dripping down to my heart as it beats longing for your warmth. My love, as the dawn rise, it is only you that I am waiting for.

LORD JULIUS

At last, you called me your love.

GEORGE

My greatest love, Julius. My heart belongs to you, as yours is mine.

(They hug each other and sit on the bench)

But my love, you should know.

LORD JULIUS

Know what, darling?

GEORGE

We cannot stay like this forever. You will wed the princess who will birth to your children. Although, when you are with Princess Lyanna, I wish her sudden death, but I don’t want to wrong her anymore. I know it is hard for you too.

LORD JULIUS

You should not worry. For we will run away. Desert this house, also the country if you wish. We can make a family of our own. Just you and me.

GEORGE

But how about your family? The wedding? How can we afford to live? You know I'm just a gardener. I'm useless and have nothing to offer to be your rightful pair.

LORD JULIUS

Darling, stop saying such rubbish! I will leave everything behind! My wealth, my name, everything just for you! I can work as a dasher, you could teach me how to serve crowds. We can do this together. It is my only desire, to live and die with my man.

GEORGE

But living my life is not easy, Julius! You had to work for every crumb of bread for a couple of hours. Every spoon of soup costs a week of labour!

LORD JULIUS

George, I may struggle, but I will get used to it. Please, we can do this hand in hand. I already packed my belongings (GEORGE looks down and sees the bags. He touches the leather), I just need your answer.

GEORGE

(Breathes) Well, you might need to learn how to cook first. You know I know nothing about cooking.

(LORD JULIUS smiles and kisses GEORGE. They chuckle and stand up, holding each other’s hands.)

They are about to go but hear RUSTLING from the bushes. After a couple of seconds, they hear FOOTSTEPS. From the left, PRINCE JULIAN arrives.

PRINCE JULIAN

What a disgrace. (Walks to the center)

LORD JULIUS

Father, I—

PRINCE JULIAN

You are the hope of this family! Have you gone crazy?

(PRINCE JULIAN fixes his composure and stares at GEORGE)

Filthy.

LORD JULIUS

I would not follow your stupid orders anymore!

PRINCE JULIAN

If you take another step away with that rat, you will no longer have the right to this family!

LORD JULIUS

So be it. (LORD JULIUS looks at GEORGE and nods) We can have our own.

PRINCE JULIAN

Rubbish! (Laughs) You cannot bore a child with two wieners! Julian, you call that a disease, you’re sick!

GEORGE

Let’s just go.

PRINCE JULIAN

(Scoffs) George, remember when you leave, your poor father will stay here, under my custody. Bear that in mind.

LORD JULIUS

He—He’s coming with us! No matter what you say we are leaving this mansion and you cannot change my mind!

PRINCE JULIAN

(PRINCE JULIAN pulls out a gun and aims it at the couple)

Does this change your mind?

GEORGE pulls LORD JULIUS and starts to run. In panic, PRINCE JULIAN fires a SHOT.

(Screencap from the movie Maurice (1987) )

#CreativeWriting #OneActPlay #LGBTQ+

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omgrachwrites · 5 years ago

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May Queen (Loki Laufeyson)

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x OC

Summary: Astrid, the princess of Vanaheimr relocates to Asgard to seal a betrothal to the youngest prince and an attempt to escape unforeseen forces. She soon finds happiness and a multitude of new friends. Unfortunately treachery and deceit lie in the court of Asgard in unlikely places, and she learns that true love never dies.

Warnings: fluff, little bit of angst

Words: 1915

A/N: Sorry that this was a bit short you guys and this fic went off on a totally different track! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think, I love you all very much! xxx

Part Eleven - Once Upon A Time in New York City

Astrid smiled prettily over her jewelled goblet of honeyed mead as she sat in her garden with Ingrid and her entourage of ladies. She liked this group of women well enough but she felt like she couldn’t be herself around them, she always had to put up a façade. Being engaged to one of the crowned princes of Asgard meant a lot of sitting around and looking pretty. Though that had all been well and good when she lived in Vanaheimr she had a whole new outlook on life ever since Arna had attempted to kill her.

Feeling a cool hand on her shoulder, Astrid looked up and smiled when she saw that it was Loki, his other hand was shielding his eyes against the harsh sunshine, “my father has called me to the council chambers, finally,” he was smiling but Astrid couldn’t mistake the bitter undertone in his voice, “I’ll see you later, okay?” he smiled and kissed her goodbye before striding out of the garden.

As soon as he had left, all of the girls swooned and cooed at Astrid, practically falling all over the table, “he must love you very much,” Helena, one of the ladies grinned and Astrid smiled tightly before changing the subject to that of a passing handsome Lord that was staying at the palace and Loki was forgotten. Luckily for Astrid, the ladies had a very short attention span.

Later on that afternoon Astrid was showing Queen Eira around the garden, the world that she had created was so fine that even tiny winged imps came and went, just to smell the flowers. Eira smiled as she linked her arm through her daughter’s, “this is a really beautiful place, all of your own. I’m very proud of whom you’re becoming and your father would have been very proud too,” the Queen grinned at her daughter before her face fell slightly, “but you’re not completely happy are you? What’s the matter sweetheart?”

Astrid sighed as she rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, “it’s this dream that I had a few weeks ago, about a room, encased in ice and it was snowing. There was a man shackled in there with icicles all over his face and snow in his eyebrows, he looked frozen half to death but somehow he was still alive. He spoke to me.”

“What did he say?” Eira asked and Astrid looked at her mother, there was a peculiar look in her eyes, it wasn’t fear or surprise. It was something else; they were almost blank, devoid of all emotion.

“He told me not to drink the wine, whatever I did, I mustn’t drink the wine. I don’t know what wine he was talking about,” the thought of it still sent shivers down her spine.

“Oh sweetheart, it was just a dream, try not to think about it. Now, how about we have a lemon cake?” Eira grinned before going to sit beneath the marquee.

Astrid sighed and smiled at Mara who came walking up beside her, her handmaiden smiled prettily and linked her fingers through Astrid’s, just like they had done when they were younger, “maybe your mother is right Astrid. Dreams can’t come true, even dreams with warnings in, please don’t take any heed. It’s troubling you and I hate to see you troubled,” Mara offered her a dimpled smile.

Astrid smiled, feeling a little bit better, “perhaps you’re right, and you know there’s an old wing of this palace that’s been locked up for years. But, I’m working on getting the key,” adventure and excitement was sparkling in her eyes, apart from the dream this was all she’d been thinking about, “who knows, maybe Odin will give it to us as a wedding present.”

Mara smiled and rolled her eyes that would never happen, not in a million years, “I’ll have a look for you if you want and I’ll try and get it. Nobody really notices a handmaiden, not even the future Queen’s.”

“I’m so glad that I’ve got at least one true friend here,” the princess grinned.

Astrid sighed in frustration as another one of her arrows missed the massive target, “and my mother tells me not to worry! I’m so frustrated that I’ve become complete rubbish at archery!” she complained, throwing her bow down before she picked up a piece of lemon cake from the tray situated on the table behind her and she took a bite out of it.

Quickly, she grabbed the dagger from Loki’s belt and threw it at the target; she was satisfied when it hit the target with a loud thunk. Loki chuckled as he stood behind Astrid, his hands ghosting over her waist, “pick your bow back up, my sweet.”

Astrid frowned, she was starting to feel frustrated with him too, never mind his honeyed words but she humoured him and picked up her bow, “what are you doing?” she smiled, her breath catching in her throat as she felt his hands on her waist.

“Adjusting your stance,” he said simply but she could tell that he was smirking.

“I know how to shoot an arrow, you know,” her words contradicted her earlier performance but she really did know how to shoot one and usually she was very good at it.

“Then prove it love,” he whispered into her ear before kissing her shoulder.

Astrid flushed and she did prove herself, as she fired the arrow it found its home in the target, right next to the dagger. Loki chuckled and pecked her cheek before walking over to the target and he took his dagger out. Astrid rolled her eyes as he sauntered back over to her, that stupid smirk playing on his lips, “I bet you do that with all the girls,” she giggled and Loki shrugged nonchalantly.

“Just the beautiful princesses’ with long dark locks and who look especially pretty in red,” he gestured to her blood red dress before he leaned in to kiss her.

“You must think you’re pretty amusing hmm?” Astrid smiled against his lips before capturing them one last time before pulling away.

“I like to think so yes,” he grinned as he took her hand, “come with me. I’ve got something to show you, something amazing.”

And so, Astrid followed him all the way down the bifrost, past the gatekeeper – he didn’t say anything but he watched the pair with strange orange eyes – and into a strange room that Astrid had never seen before. She gave Loki a raised eyebrow before walking over to one of the windows, she peered out and gasped, she was expecting to see Asgard but that wasn’t what she saw.

Instead, she saw a busy land below with metal carriages trundling along the roads and there were structures that almost reached the sky. Although, it was grey and rainy in that land, it was still one of the prettiest sights that Astrid had seen in a long time.

“What is this?” she gasped in amazement and Loki came to stand at her side.

“It’s a portal to Midgard, the human world, and I believe this particular town is called London. I’ve seen pictures and maps of it in the books in the library.”

“Why are you showing this to me now though?” Astrid asked, still not seeing the point of all of this.

Loki ran a hand through his hair before fiddling with his fingers somewhat nervously, “well, I know that you’ve been feeling down and you’re not particularly happy here but I want to show you there’s another world out there. A world where you can be happy, if only for a couple of days.”

“But, what about your father? He’ll notice won’t he if we suddenly go missing?”

Loki scoffed at the mention of his father, “well, I’ll do him the courtesy of telling him before we leave but he won’t care all that much. I’m not the prodigal son, I’ve got a lot more freedom,” he hesitated, “so would you like to go?”

Astrid smiled and cupped his cheek before kissing him, “right now?” she asked hopefully and he nodded.

“Yes well, we’ll have to pack a few things up.”

“I’d love to go to Midgard with you Loki,” she beamed and Loki nodded, looking pleased with himself.

“Where would you like to go?”

Astrid smiled, she didn’t know anything about Midgard so she couldn’t possibly choose, “just somewhere far away, where people aren’t trying to assassinate me,” she giggled, trying to make light of her predicament.

“Your wish is my command princess,” he grinned as he held out a hand, “let’s go and pack a few things up and then we can be on our way.”

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

Soon after, Loki and Astrid landed in Midgard, in a swarming city alive with so many smells and bustling people. The air was grey and heavy with smoke and it made Loki cough, it wasn’t exactly the most beautiful place but when he looked at Astrid and saw her face lit up with happiness he decided it didn’t matter whether it was beautiful or not. He wasn’t too sure where they were but it definitely wasn’t London, although the huge buildings nearly kissed the sky, just like in London.

“Where are we?” Astrid asked, almost as if she could read Loki’s mind.

“I’m not completely sure,” he mumbled, looking around for some sort of indication, he saw black and white papers on the stand next to them and one look at the front page told him where they were, “we’re in New York City.”

Being on Midgard was certainly interesting; it was amazing to see how the mortals carried out their tiny little ordinary lives. Loki and Astrid amused themselves by strolling around the city and marvelling at how different things were here. Loki had even managed to procure some mortal money and they’d managed to get some food. The food they were eating were called hot dogs and they were kind of disgusting but Astrid seemed to really enjoy it, though it wasn’t food that was fit for a princess.

It was when they were walking down that infernal alleyway that things changed – maybe they’d changed for the better though – as they were walking through they saw a tiny little man getting attacked by men that were twice his size.

“Stop it!” Astrid shouted, pulling out her dagger before Loki could stop her.

The men paused and looked at her, then at each other before bursting out into laughter, “are ya gonna cut us up princess, huh? Is that what ya gonna do?”

As the men mocked Astrid Loki felt cold rage rising up his body, he felt it go up his throat and onto his face, “you heard her,” he almost growled. The attackers looked at him, their faces going white as they ran off, pushing and shoving each other as they went.

“Gosh, are you alright?” Astrid asked before running over to the hurt man.

“I’m fine,” he winced, “thank you, but who are you two?”

“I’m Astrid, and this is Loki. What’s your name?”

Before the man could answer there were footsteps in the alleyway and a voice called out, “goddammit Steve! Why do you always get yourself into these situations?” the handsome man in green stopped when he saw that his friend wasn’t alone.

“Who are you?” Loki asked, narrowing his eyes, the stranger had his eyes fixed on Astrid.

“I’m Bucky Barnes,” the man smirked.

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@void-imaginations @theonelittleone @for-the-love-of-the-fandom

#loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fic #loki fluff #loki imagine #tom hiddleston #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #bucky barnes #steve rogers #may queen

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imaginefodlan · 4 years ago

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I have something! How about a feral Dimitri x fem Byleth one? During the war, Byleth has had to restrain and keep Dimitri under control, which includes him privately abusing her and emotionally insulting her, even using her body for his own needs. Each passing day, he breaks her over and over. After the war, when it was decided that she would be Archbishop, she breaks down and is ready to run far from Fodlan when Dimitri stops and comforts her.

Precursory Disclaimer: TW for Stockholm syndrome, a bit of gaslighting, verbal and physical abuse, and generally a lot of toxic behavior.

Okay, so Dimitri. Sweet baby Dimitri. He’s just not the same after Byleth disappears. He’s completely feral, driven mad by grief over all the people who’ve given their lives to protect his. He hears their voices everywhere he goes, haunted by the memories of his dear friends and protectors telling him how worthless he is, how unimportant he is, how unfortunate it was that they had to die for his sake, above anyone else’s.

This seriously fucks with him, to the point that when Byleth does reappear, five years later, he can’t bring himself to believe it’s really her. He feels a bit better that way, because if it’s not really her, he can take his aggression out on her more easily than if he were to believe it was. He worships Byleth. He doesn’t want to hurt Byleth. But at the same time, he doesn’t really believe this is her. He can’t. What if it’s some shapeshifter like Kronya, here to take away everything he ever cared about from him all over again? So in public, he keeps his distance. In private, he berates her, slanders her, curses her. He tells her over and over how she isn’t needed, isn’t wanted here. How she abandoned him, abandoned the war efforts when they needed her most. How she’s the reason he lost his eye.

Anytime they’re alone, especially in the privacy of his chambers at night, he finds some sick sort of relief in belittling her in any way he can. He grabs her by the wrist, by the hair, by wherever he can grab her. He manhandles her, and forces himself on her more times than Byleth cares to count (she doesn’t exactly say no out loud, but is more than passive enough to indicate she isn’t offering enthusiastic consent - more that she’s just going along with it in hopes it’s what he needs to help get him back to normal). If this is what he needs, if this is how she can prove she’s here, for him and him alone, then she’ll put up with it all for him. She’s dedicated to him, to giving him what he needs from her to understand that he’s not alone anymore. But over time, it weighs on her that he seems to hate her, and seems more than willing to torment her than to show her any sign of affection, and eventually, she just can’t deal with it anymore.

She puts up with Dimitri’s horrific behavior behind closed doors from the moment she returns tp the Monastery until the moment the war ends and Dimitri is officially crowned the King of Faerghus. The moment she’s told she’s meant to be the next Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, to rule alongside him, though? She’s out the door faster than anyone could imagine, sprinting toward the Monastery gates. The Gatekeeper can hardly call out “Hello Professor!” before she’s out the gates. She runs as fast and as far as she can, until she reaches the Red Canyon, and enters the ruins of Zanado.

She cries there for a long while, hidden amongst the ruins, just wishing Sothis could tell her what she should do now. She hopes more than anything that being there, in Sothis’ home, will help her hear what Sothis thinks she should do, although it’s to no avail. She gets no response, of course. As much as she wished she would, she knew she wouldn’t get a response. But Byleth can’t handle more of Dimitri’s abuse, she can’t lead a nation with him when he clearly doesn’t trust her or care about her in the way she does him. She can’t handle being alone with him anymore. She can’t keep putting herself through it, no matter how much she’s loved him over the years. So, she resolves she needs to leave.

It’s a few hours later when she hears the hoof-beats of a lone horse pounding into the ground. Tucked away in an alley, she peeks out to see who is riding toward her.

It’s Dimitri. Byleth can’t fathom why he’s come here. He wouldn’t come looking for her. He hated her, or at least, that’s how he acted. Why would he come looking for her? She withdrew deeper into the alley, hiding in the shadows, until-

“Byleth? I know you’re here. Come out, now.” His voice rumbles, soft and deep. “We clearly need to talk.” Byleth barely suppresses her surprised gasp at the lack of abusive language, at how much he sounds like the Dimitri she once knew, long before the war. He’d hardly said a single sentence to her that wasn’t full of aggression or abuse since before the war began, all those years ago. She hesitates, but slowly creeps out from the alleyway into the main path through the ruined city, to hear him out, and eventually, to tell him she was leaving.

“Wh-what do you want, Y-your Highness?” Byleth stumbled over her words, too anxious to speak without stuttering. She didn’t want to risk setting him off, but she wanted- no, needed, and frankly, deserved- answers.

Dimitri looked over the woman before him, how she trembled like a leaf, observing how her tearstained cheeks quivered with anxiety as she stumbled over her words, just to try and convey to him a simple question. It was as if he suddenly understood what he’d been doing to her from the moment she came back into his life. “I understand you’re scared. I- I’ve been horrible to you this last year, and I... I know I can’t atone for that. But I need you to know, as selfish as it is, that I want you here, with me. I want you to rule at my side, to be my advisor and my companion. I want you to stay with me, so please... Please, don’t leave me alone again.” He rambles, trying not to cry himself at the thought that the woman he had loved for years might leave because of his disturbing, awful behavior.

Byleth couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her. “I- You-” She hesitated, looking away from him. She spoke carefully, her voice low, devoid of emotion as she steeled herself against him. “What happened to me not being needed, or wanted, King Blaidyyd? What makes you think I’ll be willing to stay for you, when you’ve treated me so terribly? Why shouldn’t I walk away right now?”

Dimitri was shocked at the cold tone of voice and the unfamiliar title she used to address him. “Byleth, have I not shown you my love over the years? I’ve made love to you numerous times, shown you how I feel.” He couldn’t comprehend that his behavior was completely uncivilized and unloving, despite how he had interpreted and intended it.

Byleth laughed harshly, scoffing at him as her eyes blurred with tears. She had to stand her ground now, or she never would. “Your love? You think that’s what you’ve been showing me by abusing me with every aggressive word that leaves your mouth, with every bitemark and scratch and cut you’ve left on me? With every time you’ve rutted against me for your own release and played with me for your own entertainment? You think that’s love, now? The Dimitri I once loved would have known better than to call that love.”

Dimitri frowned, biting back a curse. “Is that what you think? I- I know I’ve been harsh, and crass, but have I truly been so unbearable that you can’t see how much I care for you still?”

Byleth shook her head. “The fact that you can’t understand that you have done nothing to show your care, shows just how long you have to go before you’re ready to truly love someone. I’m leaving, Dimitri. I can’t stay here and take more of this from you. I can’t lead the church and deal with you at the same time. Goodbye, Dimitri. Maybe one day, our paths will cross again.”

She moved to cross his path to leave, but as she did, a hand reached down and settled on her head. She flinched, expecting him to grab hold and pull at her hair. She could feel the panic rising in her again, seeping into every crevice of her mind. But the expected pulling never came. Just a large hand resting firmly upon her head, stroking her hair in a surprisingly gentle way. The first gentle physical action he’d taken toward her in years.

“I understand your urge to leave. I cannot blame you for it, because I caused it. But please, I beg of you, consider staying. You are powerful, intelligent, and beyond brilliant. You are what the people need, more than I, or any other leader. Fodlan needs you to lead them, and I need you to lead me. I swear by all that I know and all that I hope to learn that I will never willingly hurt you. Never again. I want nothing more than to worship you, and to serve our people together, for the rest of our days. I know I cannot reassure you, or make you trust me. But I put my faith and trust in you, whatever you choose to do. You can lead the church, and you can lead Fodlan. Together, there is nothing we couldn’t do for our people.”

Byleth sighs softly, looking up at him with slightly warmer eyes as she addresses him with a sort of fondness in her voice, a tone reserved for the Dimitri she knew all those years ago. “I promise you that I will consider your words thoroughly. For now, though, I must still leave. There are too many wounds that need time to heal before I’m ready to lead anyone properly. But I will return when it is time for me to take up the mantle of Archbishop, be it a year or five or ten from now. And when that time comes, we will talk again.” And with that, she pulled herself away from his touch, and walked away.

Five years later, Dimitri finds out through whispering rumors that a woman with mint green hair has returned from the eastern lands beyond Fodlan, and found her way to the Garreg Mach monastery. Not long after, he received word from Seteth that Byleth had finally returned to take her place as Archbishop, and would be visiting Faerghus to discuss unfinished personal matters with him at a later date.

He can’t help feeling a sense of anxiety and giddiness at the opportunity he’s been blessed with to see her face again, and to speak with her once more. Whatever was to come of it, whether she would claim him as her own or not, he was ready to face her once more, and to show her he had taken his own time to heal and become a better man, a more deserving man, one who could be worthy of her love and affection, and who could reciprocate those feelings healthily.

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ofstormythoughts · 4 years ago

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What Happens at the Toy Box Part 1 with @OneCheekyGal

Raine

••I wasn't quite sure what to make of my non-grand-opening Grand Opening, but Birdie's had done surprisingly well in the first few months, even considering the challenges that came with 2020. I had sorely lacked in marketing myself but it seemed I had garnered enough local fanfare by word of mouth, I’d even sold out of some of what I had on offer. I felt greedy in my happiness despite all the effort it took to realize this dream that spanned more than my own lifetime. The only way in which I had announced my arrival into the scene was via introduction to the surrounding business owners and shop managers. There was a sole location that had evaded me. The Toy Box had managed to both pique my interest and stoke a sadness when I tried to stop by. Clearly it was not a store for children as the name would imply by a glance from afar. Thankfully it was in my nature to cast a deeper line into the sea of curiosities. I wondered the story behind its extended closure and during some lulls in my own foot traffic, I was prone to imagining its caretaker had been swept up into a torrid love affair and was sailing around the world with an incomparable lover. The wind held the secrets of The Toy Box at bay, sadly, so I was left to my own musings. It had become a habit to glance across the way before I opened and I held a silent yearning to see the sign switched from “Closed” to whatever elusive welcome alerted the passer by the store was open for business.

This was why when I stepped out to tend the garden and saw the door open that hadn't been since my arrival, excitement quickened my pulse. It was silly, really, but I wouldn't feel my induction into the local scene had been completed until I met this last neighborhood retailer.

My next appointment wasn’t scheduled for an afternoon and I could use a technology break. Setting up the online store was not on my list of favorite things to do. Locking up Birdie's temporarily, I sprung into action, lest I miss my chance and face that closed sign. I nearly skipped across the street before happily crossing the threshold that had been to date a gatekeeper to my curiosity. A bright but genuine smile curved my lips as I approached the petite and pretty girl behind the register, sure to keep a proper distance since I wasn’t wearing a mask. Maybe it had been my daydreaming of her whereabouts, but on sight of her alone, I found my interest in her story piqued even more than all the wares for sale. I tried to keep my gaze from wandering and my eyes from widening at all the things, some which I wasn’t completely naive to, others that had me clueless about their potential use.••

Camille:

*The decision to temporarily close my shop so I could take a vacation had given me heaps of anxiety and a weight of worry on my shoulders that felt heavier than the Costco sized bag of cat food I liked to buy for Betty. I had considered hiring someone temporarily while I was away, but the efforts of training them for such a short period of time seemed like more of a hassle than losing the week’s worth of sales.

What had started out as being closed for a short holiday had unexpectedly turned into something much longer. I had been out of the country enjoying the sand and sun when the travel restrictions and the COVID pandemic had been declared, and upon my return home, a mandatory quarantine had been instituted which meant the shop doors would unfortunately be staying closed.

Fortunately, my online shop was already well established and after an emailed Newsletter to my customer list indicating orders could still be placed during the brick and mortar closure, the lull that my vacation created gradually picked back up. My rainy day savings had helped during the months where in store purchases were entirely obsolete. In my time away and then the subsequent closure, the small cluster of businesses in the area surrounding mine seemed to stay fairly stagnant, with the exception of a new shop that I had completely missed opening, I could only assume it happened while I was away. I hadn't planned to make the time to introduce myself. New businesses tended to avoid mine. God forbid someone admitted to knowing the owner of a sex shop...not that it phased me anyways. The day I had been phased to re-open the shop, I used a wedge of wood to prop the door open to help get rid of the stale air while I dusted for the first few hours. I didn't expect a rush of customers even though I had made a re-opening announcement on the shop’s website with the new hours, and had sent out a discount code to my email list in the hopes of drumming up some more sales and maybe even some foot traffic. It felt good to get back to my old routine of keeping busy and taking pride in what I had built up over the years. It was while I was in the middle of organizing a new countertop display of novelty single condoms that someone walked through the open door. My smile, the one that was reserved just for customers came back to my lips easily, just like old times and as I angled the stand next to the cash register just so, I greeted the lovely looking redhead and tried to guess in my mind what she might be here for...a game I sometimes liked to play with myself just for fun.* Hello, how can I help you today?

Raine

•• I was immediately disarmed by the friendly body language of the girl that I was meeting at long last. My eyes betrayed me by stealing glances at the various displays which were successful in drawing the attention of a complete sexual novice, hoping the color of my cheeks was not as evident as the warmth I felt there. I could only imagine that someone with more experience would be quick to spend their savings based on the appealing presentations alone. I felt oddly at ease and out of place all at once, perhaps the impressive and colorful water wall behind the shop’s mistress was at work. I couldn’t help but appreciate that her store had its own water feature befitting its personality just like my own at Birdie’s.•• First, apologies for my barging in without paying mind to whether or not you were actually open. I saw from across the street that you were no longer shuttered and I was too excited for any patience. I’m Raine and I just opened up across the way. •• As I smiled, I caught a glance of a beautiful and fluffy white cat circling her legs, wrapping its tail around her, perhaps to state “She is mine.”•• I have been eagerly awaiting your return, there was a void because you’ve been nowhere to be found. Maybe the universe wanted me to save the best for last.

Camille

*The way the girl looked around with wide eyed curiosity as she approached had me titling my head and feeling momentarily stunted when it came to a guess of what she might possibly wish to purchase. She had the look of uncertainty until she spoke and then surprise took hold of my features before I could school them back into place.* Oh! You don't have to apologize. *As I peered through the window in the direction of where she indicated, I mumbled to myself how I hoped the welcoming committee had been nicer to her than they had been to me before I turned back to her and extended my hand to shake hers out of habit before I could stop myself, I laughed awkwardly and pulled my hand away, remembering to keep my distance.* It's very nice to meet you, Raine. I'm Camille and this here is Betty. *I bent down to pick up my cat and lifted her up into proper view.* Usually she hides away in the back but since today is the first day back after closing, she hasn't left my side. *As Betty nuzzled against me, I smiled for the comfort she brought then sat her back down and made my way around to the other side of the counter.* It's very sweet of you to want to introduce yourself...so did you open pretty recently, then? I was closed briefly for a holiday before the pandemic started and had to stay closed.

Raine

•• Nodding in immediate reaction as not to interrupt Camille before she was done speaking.••

Yes, three months ago, but we must have just missed each other for your sabbatical because I have been here for about five renovating. If you need any help settling back in, I’d be happy to volunteer. I haven’t made too many acquaintances and I am just getting my bearings, really so there are no social distractions to be had.•• I hoped I hadn’t been too forward. I had never much been desperate for human contact, but there was a smidge of isolation seeping in on the year anniversary of losing my Birdie. I tried to concentrate on the sweet of the bittersweet at my opening, but of course had been confronted with pangs of my loss. Daring another peek around, smiling as another blush warmed my cheeks. •• Not that I think you and Betty don’t have it handled. Do you mind if I take a look around? •• I was a mermaid out of water but that didn’t mean my curiosity was not at a healthy level. The range of items in my immediate view offered plenty of options for my perusal without my naivety making me completely foolish in front of my new kitty-corner shop neighbor.••

Camille:

*I couldn't help the smile that took hold of my lips when Raine offered to help me settle back in...and it clicked in my mind that I should have been the one to make that offer given how long the shop had been opened. I was starting to feel like I didn't deserve her kindness for how oblivious I had been to the renovations across the way. Thankfully her question brought me out of my mind and the pondering of what else I might have missed while my toes and head were in the sand.* Please, take your time and browse as much as you’d like. *Not wanting to make her feel like I was hovering or being one of those nosy shop owners, I moved back around to the other side of the counter to continue with the display I had been working on, speaking loud enough for her to hear without being intrusive.* I don't have much to do in the way of settling back into things, but I’d love to take a look around your place when you're not too busy. *As I waited for Raine to reply, the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside the shop demanded my attention, and an old familiar feeling of what it was like to be busy returned along with a pang of guilt for being away so long. That feeling slowly faded and was quickly replaced with interest as I watched the gentleman exit his truck and begin to walk across the parking lot, headed straight for the shop Raine had pointed out as hers. Turning back to see if she noticed, I called out to warn her.* Hey, um...Raine...I think you might have a customer…

Raine:

••My reaction of a sigh to the call to duty was uncharacteristic, but spoke to the fact I instinctually would like to get to know Camille and the setting of her shop was too perfect to urge me out of my hermit comfort zone. With the slightest reluctance I turned towards the door. I also knew whoever it was hadn’t made an appointment. While I was still allowing walk-ins, I had to limit the number of people in Birdie’s to three.••

You’re welcome to come across the way with me, if you’d like? I am not done exploring your shop, so either way, I will be back.

••With a little more quickening in my steps, I exited, hoping Camille might follow. I passed the man as casually as possible, but was greeted with thoughts that made my nose crinkle, as it was plain he was looking at my ass with graphic intentions of what he’d like to do to it. I flushed again, this time in embarrassment and anger, and not at all out of flattery. My eyes pinched closed just before I unlocked my door, the sanctuary and water feature running through the floor calmed my wild emotions and allowed me to form a smile that though unauthentic, would fool the man when he caught sight. He didn’t hesitate to return the smile, though his was dripping with sleaze. “Just back from lunch? Maybe next time I’ll get here earlier so you won’t have to eat alone.” I gagged at the back of my throat and wished to shove politeness aside, but with a little more cleverness than the man deserved.•• Too bad my lunch table is reserved for one and booked months in advance.

••I focused on the blessed sound of the water while he honed in on my chest with beady eyes, I turned out of view when he pestered me with more intrusive questions. “Boyfriend? Husband?” His pause was not long enough before he added, “Girlfriend? I’m more than willing to share.” I ignored his utterly insulting insinuations, refusing to satisfy any of his base curiosity, instead I fetched a bottle of Camphor essential oil, known to be used by monks to suppress sexual urges, smiling as I took his hand, dotting the top between middle and ring fingers with the oil.•• This is on special today. ••winking, though I felt like I must immediately return home to scrub myself clean for providing him any kind of returns to his advances•• Just for you.

••I made a show of using my own, house made blend of hand sanitizer as his smile somehow got creepier. It seemed like at least an hour had passed since I left the Toy Box, though I knew for certain it has been a short few minutes. “Oh, I didn’t come here to make a purchase. I’ve been watching you come and go and… decided today was the day I’d let my fiery little redhead crush in on the secret.” My eyes flared wide and the creepy crawlies multiplied from head to toe. Stupefied and appalled, I shook my head vehemently.•• I suggest you leave, go home and clean those binoculars you’ve been using, that way the next time you look you’ll see I’m not interested.

••”I wasn’t using binoculars --” Pointing out the door, my lips in a set in a stern line, frustrated with myself for entertaining any of this stupidity.••

Camille:

*I nodded at Raine when she excused herself with haste for her customer. I understood completely. New businesses were hard to turn a profit the first handful of years and each sale was important toward ensuring one’s livelihood. Not wanting to encroach on her sale, I took my time gathering my keys to lock the door but before I could, Betty snuck her fluffy white self out, circling my feet and curling her tail around my leg. With a smile, I scooped her into my arms and locked up my own shop, not at all concerned about missing out on a customer. There hadn't been any all day while I had been cleaning anyways.

As I approached Raine’s store front, I could see her speaking with the man then pointing toward the door with a look on her face that was unmistakable. It was an expression I had used more than a few times, I had perfected it, really. Generally it was used on under-agers, and despite my petite size, worked very well. I was no pushover. But this guy was old enough to know better and to know he wasn’t welcomed.* Oh man, Betty. I wonder if our new friend needs some reinforcements. *Squaring my shoulders, I pushed the door open and painted on my brightest smile.* Hey, Raine. *I took my time looking around while holding Betty, her purrs from being in my arms and having her head scratched slowly began to fade with each step I took closer to the man who still couldn’t take the hint.*

I just adore the water feature you have here, it’s so lovely. *Satisfied with being close enough to my new friend, I picked up a jar on a nearby table, pretending to look at the label as he spoke again. My nose scrunched at his blatant disrespect and I waited to hear how she would handle herself. Betty, ever the excellent judge in character, hissed in warning from my arms, and I caught Raine’s gaze briefly, winking as I quietly let my guard cat jump down from my hold. It seemed she had very quickly taken offence on Raine’s behalf and moved to circle around her legs as she always did with me. From my spot out of the guy’s view, I mouthed at Raine to pick Betty up, if he got any closer, I knew the claws would come out.*

Raine

••I knew we’d only just met, but Camille and Betty were both quickly becoming essential to my survival. Their audience reinforced my backbone, especially when I witnessed Betty hissing. Animals were the best judge of character and I caught Camille’s wink and easily read her lips.•• I’m afraid you will have to go now. I have a private consultation. ••I wasn’t prone to lie, but I also wasn’t an idiot. I needed to ensure this man got the message the first time lest he think there was any question in my denial. The encounter was new to me, I hadn’t ever really been in this position, but I was in a new locale and I was certain it wouldn’t be the last time.•• I’m so sorry, Camille, he was just leaving…

•• “Before I go, can I set up a private… consultation?” My stomach absolutely turned over, most especially for the way he rolled over the words private and consultation.•• Consultations are for customers intending to make a minimum purchase of five hundred dollars. You can call to set it up when you decide you are interested in my inventory. Now please leave.

••I watched as Betty sauntered closer to me, stopping right by my feet. I was flattered by my newfound feline friend’s quick warming up to me. When she nudged my calf with her nose, I dipped down, gingerly picking her up and surprised when I was greeted with a purr of her approval before she turned her head to the man and let loose a low growl. I watched as the sleaze put his hands up in relent and started backing towards the door. “I’ll see you soon, beautiful.” Disgusted, once he left I let out a sigh of exasperation.•• Please tell me they aren’t all like that here? And thank you, complete lifesaver. You too, Betty.

Camille

*As I waited for the jerk to get the hint Raine was trying to send his way, I found myself biting my tongue. She was being too kind, in my opinion. And if this guy was in my shop acting like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell him off and kick him out. Then again, I could recall when my shop was new, years ago and I had to have a few similar experiences in order to find my grit. Raine would find hers, too, I was certain of it.

Setting the jar I had picked up back down, I slowly made my way closer to Raine, just in case dickwad decided to do something dickwad-ish. Fortunately, Betty had done exactly what I had hoped, and helped reinforce Raine’s request that he leave. As he moved past me on his way to the door, I smirked when he made eye contact, which probably wasn’t the greatest idea as we were left with his promise to return.

Ew. Gross.

I really hoped not. Moving toward the door, I smiled over my shoulder at Raine as I twisted the deadbolt...just in case and watched as he climbed into an older truck and slowly left the parking lot. I’d make sure to keep an eye out for him over the next week or so. Something about him felt...off.

Raine’s voice brought me back from my thoughts and I laughed lightly at her question, giving a small shake of my head.* Not all of them. Usually I get the creeps at my store given what I sell... and even then, it’s not very often. *Moving closer to Raine, I reached out to scratch behind Betty’s ears* A casual mention of knowing how to use a whip is enough to get them to leave pretty quick. Want me to show you how in case he returns? *My offer was mostly a joke...mostly.*

Raine

••I laughed at the offer while simultaneously blushing. I liked Camille, a lot, but to say I wasn’t intimidated by all her wares would be complete fabrication. Still, my world was fairly lonely and my desire to branch out and make friends well outweighed any embarrassment over my naivety. For truth, Camille was the first person I’d felt comfortable with and conversation was coming too easy. It had always been Birdie and me and I’d never had true friends, only passing acquaintances. I couldn’t live a cloistered life anymore, and though it made me nervous to open up, I had already made the first steps with Camille, I could only hope she wasn’t just being polite.•• Do you offer beginner courses or something that comes before beginner?

••Laughing again, I sat Betty down on the counter top and turned to reach for a bottle of a special elixir that I didn’t typically share with someone I’d just met, it was more reserved for requests of a special nature. I couldn’t help but recall that I’d blushed, too, when Birdie had first brought up the idea of concocting this particular blend of extracts, mostly for the reason behind it. She had gently encouraged me, in a way only she could get away with, to come out of the nunnery and embrace my sexuality. She’d imparted her blunt wisdom, insisting I didn’t need a partner to learn what I liked myself. I probably didn’t quite crack the mold of my prudishness in a way she had hoped I would, but I dared to believe that my entry into a sex shop and making an acquaintance of its proprietor would have both made her laugh and proud.

I snapped out of my happy reverie back to the present before turning to face Camille with the bottle in hand.•• Since you so kindly served as my protector and have additionally offered me whip training, perhaps you will indulge me in sharing something of mine with you?

Camille:

Pre-beginner course? Hmm. Let me think...maybe a paddle or a soft flogger to start with before we get you yielding a whip then. *My laughter joined hers and it left me feeling good despite the lingering creepiness that she wasn’t afraid or too intimidated to joke around with me. Sure I had a handful of friends, but it had been a long while since I could claim anyone as a close friend or a best friend for that matter. And after the encounter with the disgusting guy, I felt a bond of sorts with her, and had already decided she was someone I wanted to be around. Her humour, while it skirted the edges of an obvious innocence gave me the impression she already appreciated my brand of unapologetic crass. It wouldn’t take long before I would help break her free of that shell, and I was confident it would be without much effort, too.

When she put Betty down on the counter, I reached out to run my hand over her arching back, scratching through her white fur all the way down along her tail, letting it twist around my fingers the way I always did as I watched Raine grab a small bottle. My head tilted in curiosity at what the contents might be. A smile grew easily at her offer and I nodded without hesitation, not caring in the least what it was.*

You know you don’t have to pay me back for doing what any friend would do. That guy was gross on so many levels! *laughing with a shudder, I shook my head continuing on so she didn’t think I was being rude.* But that doesn’t mean I’m going to say no. What is it?

Raine

••Laughing openly at the softened suggestions, I continued to be at ease in Camille’s company. It had been too long since I’d laughed in such an organic way, the feeling rising with a genuine rush. Even if I had no use for anything at all in her shop, I was interested in what more I could discover from her expertise. Though I was verging on a comfort level that had me wanting to leave the mask down, I pulled it up out of respect for her and in order to share a more intimate distance. Leaning across the counter, circling my fingers around her wrists and turning her palms upward, I smiled behind the silk of my mask.•• This is called… Awakening. Think of it as a bridge from my world to yours. ••My brow lifted to communicate the intrigue I hoped was translating. I twisted the top of the bottle off, the scent of lavender and ylang ylang blooming in the air. Retrieving a dropper from my sanitized tray and filling it with the oil. I dabbed each of Camille’s wrists and then circled my thumbs over each drop, gently massaging it into her skin before another application to my own fingers. Leaning slightly closer, I brought my fingertips up and behind her ears to dab just behind them before the last application to either of her temples. There were other pressure points for full effect but asking even her permission to do that would not be appropriate and would involve removing clothing.••

The effect will be subtle but this blend should allow you to clear out stale energies while refreshing you and opening you up to new and arousing potential. ••I could feel my cheeks warm again as I struggled to find the words to basically say what it was without blurting that it was basically like opening up a dam for energy that could block a libido. I wasn’t being presumptuous about her circumstance, my intention was to have fun.•• It will leave you attracting complimentary energies to your own. ••Betty meowed and butted her head against Camille’s arm, drawing another laugh.•• Looks as though Betty approves, unless I am reading her wrong. ••Lowers my voice though we are alone in the store.•• You can use it in other erogenous zones… the dimples on your back, the sternum, the inner part of your knee…

Camille:

*I found myself slightly surprised when Raine pulled her mask back on and leaned closer. Seemed I was getting an up close and personal demonstration of whatever this “Awakening” stuff was. My grin grew as she spoke and began to massage the small drops of oil into my skin. It smelled lovely and light, which was nice.

As soon as she moved her hands to my ears I couldn’t help the soft laugh which was immediately followed up with an apology and explanation of being ticklish there. My laugher was short lived however because the gentle circling of her fingers at my temples earned her a sigh for how nice it felt. I was so focused on the beginning of what felt like a slight warming tingle on my skin that I nearly missed when she explained what the oil was meant to do.

Now. I wasn’t normally someone who lived any kind of holistic lifestyle but damn if Raine didn’t have me rethinking that with the way she spoke and the way the oil felt as she applied it to my skin. I wanted it to do exactly what she said it would. I needed a complete and thorough cleansing of all stale energies. The whole world needed it really, but I didn’t think she had that many bottles of her oil.*

Complementary energies? Hmm.

*I was considering just how that could ever be possible given the whole social distance pandemic thing, but Raine’s laughter at Betty’s usual demand for affections drew me from my thoughts and I laughed with her as I gave my cat a scratch beneath her chin and returned my full attention back to Raine. Her lowered voice despite the fact that we were the only people in her shop had it dawning on me. Suddenly the warm tingling sensations on my skin and her mention of erogenous zones had me laughing. Loudly.*

Oh, Raine. You are quite the surprise. I just clued into what you’re trying to say this stuff is. *laughing some more and giving my head a shake, I lift my wrist to my nose to give the oil a proper smell.* You just put arousal oil on me. How forward for you. *winking with a teasing grin so she knows I’m not bothered at all, I point at the bottle* I hope it works with the whole complementary energies. And if not, I do enjoy the way it feels.

Raine

••I beam for the compliment of being a surprise, while I twist the dropper into the bottle, sliding it Camille's way•• I insist you indulge in the rest of the bottle. Maybe not all at once. ••laughs again, finding the atmosphere having lightened considerably from just earlier.••

Dare I suggest you try it somewhere I didn't? ••bats my lashes in acknowledgement of my less than innocent rhetorical••

If you're open to it, I think you may find it delivers on its promise with time and in its own way. Match.com it is not. ••a laugh bubbles up for how silly I feel talking this way and about things I've never conversed about.••

I only ask your honest feedback. ••biting my lip behind my mask before I pull it back down for a reprieve•• And maybe we could get together socially some time? I would be grateful for your company in the expanse of my wide open calendar.

Camille:

*Giving Raine a bright smile, I take the bottle and laugh with an understanding nod.* I promise not to dump the whole thing on my nipples in one go. *My snort is loud as I laugh again, entirely unable to keep a straight face at the idea.*

I also promise to give you any and all honest feedback and I would be happy to be your guinea pig for anything else in the future. Unless it’s meant to dry me up like a prune in which case, no thank you! *While still holding the bottle in one hand, I reach for Betty, holding her in my arms as I consider Raine’s question to hang out.* I can do you one better than just getting together some time. Which, let's be honest here...people only say that to be polite and never actually plan to follow through. So, there’s a food truck that usually parks about a half block away, it’s amazing! Let me buy you lunch for this?

*Giving the bottle a little wiggle, I let Betty down next to my feet and nodded firmly, not leaving her an opportunity to decline.* There are even a few scattered tables we can eat at. I will just take Betty back to my shop, lock up, and meet you out in the parking lot in a few. And then you can tell me all about the other kinds of concoctions you have made.

*Moving to the door, I twisted open the deadbolt I had locked earlier and opened it for Betty to walk through first.* See you in a few! *Giving a quick wave as I let the door close behind me, I grinned when I saw Raine nodding back at me, not that I had given her any choice to object.* Look at us making a new friend, Betty. And on the first day back at the shop.

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benisasoftboi · 5 years ago

Text

Unorganised Thoughts on Cindered Shadows:

Spoilers! All the spoilers!

Yeah it took me a week to finish it, as always, I’ve been busy

It’s possible that someone will remember that I’ve made a few of these, and that I said I’d be doing Crimson Flower next, but haven’t. I have finished that route. I wrote something up. It ended up being over 8000 words long. I decided no one would want to read 8000 words of me complaining about fantasy politics, and did not post it

If anyone is interested in knowing in detail what I think about any or all of the following: Edelgard (short version: good in concept, but severely let down by the writing), Fodlan’s politics (surprisingly complex! Which is why the main characters’ having such simple and naive politics is so frustrating!), Rhea and the church (she creeps me out), general opinions on minor things (most controversial: I actually like F!Byleth’s outfit) or various shipping opinions/headcanons (I like pretty much any pairing except Dimitri/Anyone, and Linhardt and Caspar with anybody but each other), give me a shout and let me know. I won’t be holding my breath, but like... if you want me to ramble I wouldn’t say no

Anyway! Cindered Shadows!

New characters ranked by how much I like them as characters, most to least: Yuri, Hapi, Constance, Balthus

Reasoning: I love pretty boys because I am, emotionally, still 12, stoic-type girls are also great and I love her design, she annoyed me a little at first but I thought the sunlight thing was interesting and she eventually grew on me, and I don’t dislike him at all, he’s just the least interesting to me

New characters ranked by how much I like them as units: Balthus, Yuri, Constance, Hapi (ugh, I really like her but she was total deadweight for me)

I’ve always really, really loved the concept of both underground cities and groups of people who have nothing in common aside from being outsiders, bound together by that one shared trait - so I. Love. Abyss. I wish the whole game was set there, it’s so cool

Some really good maps! Actually, let’s review each level:

1: Good intro to the Wolves. Aside from the ‘secret fourth house’ line, which is bad and makes what is otherwise a great concept sound really dumb. But the map itself makes for a very good demonstration of each of the Wolves’s deals. Bit messed up that you kill a bunch of Abyssians and no one really addresses that again, though

2: Even the game comments on the fact that releasing four waves of enemies in a circle gets tiresome. Least favourite

3: Wish the game had been a little clearer of the exact requirements for finishing the map. Also, enough reinforcements to almost be too annoying, but it managed to just avoid that, for me at least

4: This fucking level. I love an escape map in concept, but that goddamn doll at the start. I don’t know how I would have beat it if I hadn’t realised Edelgard can be reclassed out of her armor for better movement (speaking of deadweight units... was the same on Crimson Flower, Lord ranking in terms of actual usefulness in battle is Claude > Dimitri >>> Edelgard, and I say this as someone who normally loves defense-based units in video games). Anyway, despite the fact that it took me like six tries, this was my favourite of the lot - partly because it was so satisfying to finally beat, and partly because, like I say, I just love the concept

5: Breather level, thankfully. Cool to see Metodey again. But... why is he there??? I made Edelgard kill defeat him

6: Starts out really hard and gets easier. Biggest problem for me was the Bolting mages. I found that the trick was to use Ashe’s battalion gambit on Byleth and counter from afar with the Sword of the Creator. Map’s a cinche after they’re gone

7: A really, really cool final boss fight, and really great to just get to fight a big monster without having to slog through hundreds of other enemies as well (two per turn is fine, gives characters like Ashe who are too weak to fight the boss something to do). And there’s no way I could find to cheap it like on Crimson Flower (something I had to do then because of Cyril and his goddamn Murder Axe). Only wish it wasn’t the case that half of the Wolves can basically never touch the boss without being insta-killed. Hapi and Constance should have been able to do more than Phantom Aelfric Clean-Up

It was really nice getting to have all the Lords work together. I had Edelgard and Dimitri do a Gambit Boost and it was weirdly emotional

Am upset that no supports were available. Primarily because this would have been a great opportunity to add some side-story exclusive supports between the Lords. I get why they couldn’t do that in the main game, but I think the lack of any connection between them (besides the mostly one-sided Dimitri->Edelgard) is one of the game’s biggest downfalls, and this could have at least compensated a little

At least we got a few conversations in Abyss

Oh I wonder who the traitor could be, who is it, of the five characters we’ve met it couldn’t possibly be the really generic looking old guy who wasn’t in the trailer oh my god I’m so shocked it WAS him this is an unprecedented twist the likes of which we will never be graced with again

Liked getting some back story and an actual name for Byleth’s mother

I want to know how ‘Noa Fruit’ became a thing. Linhardt alludes to it, but I want that lore. Give me the Fruit Lore, Intsys

Also give me Mysterious Woman lore

I’ve said this before, but Gatekeeper x Abysskeeper OTP

Why can’t Yuri and Linhardt support I want them to bond over being smart bisexual pretty boys with grappler best friends (I have a very long mental list of characters who should have had supports together but don’t)

Yuri’s make-up is gorgeous. Love that design choice

The ‘Nabatean Chalice’ reminded me - I’ve kind of always wondered if Nabatea is meant to be a call back to Nabata from the Elibe games, or if it’s just coincidence that they sound similar

Will we ever find out anything about the Crest of Ernest or nah? (Fiver says if ever, it’ll be randomly explained in a Forging Bonds in FEH like three years from now. Wouldn’t put it past them)

So Byleth’s nickname was the ‘Ashen Demon’. And these guys are the ‘Ashen Wolves’. I kind of figured that would come up? Was it a translation thing?

I love how the reasons for each of the Wolves being in Abyss were “I barely escaped execution by the Church for the crime of murder”, “I was experimented on and now have dangerous magical powers”, “I’m the last surviving member of a collapsed noble family” and “I’m in like, so much debt, lol”. Kind of makes me wonder if Leonie ends up down there in some of her endings

Although I hear that there’s actually a little more to Balthus, as revealed by supports. I haven’t seen all of them yet, the only one I’ve looked up was Dimitri and Hapi because those two interacting intrigued me and... I know what I said above, but this might actually be a Dimitri pairing I don’t dislike? What is this???

I’ll watch the rest at some point, but won’t be starting a new 3H playthrough. Rune Factory 4 Special finally comes out next week and the moment my pre-ordered Archival Edition shows up at my door, it’ll be Fire Emblem who? The only dragon I know is Ventuswill, and the only empire I’m worried about is the unfortunately named ‘Sechs Empire’

Although, the fact that Kiel and Caspar have the exact same voice might end up being... hmmm

Eh, I got over Doug and Yosuke Hanamura. It’ll be fine :)

#fire emblem #fe #three houses #fe3h #cindered shadows #cindered shadows spoilers

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master-sass-blast · 6 years ago

Text

Gatekeeper.

*rubs hands together* Oh, this is gonna be a Good One.

Summary: You decide you want to rejoin the X-Men after an ill-fated mission in Hell’s Kitchen. Piotr, unbeknownst to you, disagrees with the choice and tries to sideline you to keep you safe. You manage to work around him to make it back on the active mission roster --but will your relationship with Piotr survive?

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader and Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson.

Rating: T for politics, mentions of abuse, the Reader having the Biggest Dick Energy in the room, fights, emotional angst, and almost-smut.

@marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie

Your legs are shaking. You’re feel like you’ve run a marathon. You’re covered in sweat.

You couldn’t be happier.

You pant and gasp for a minute, hands braced against your knees as you catch your breath, and then you straighten and let out a victorious whoop as you pump your fists in the air. “Fuck yeah! Kiss my ass, physical therapy! I’m finally done with you!”

After two months of recovering from getting shot at some God forsaken Hell’s Kitchen dock, you were finally done with physical therapy.

Which meant that you could finally get back to working with the X-Men.

From the patio behind the house, Piotr clapped his hands as you collapsed –triumphantly—onto the lawn. “Well done, moya lyubov’. You should be very proud.”

“Believe me, I am. And I’m gross and sweaty. Who wants a hug?”

He laughs and hugs you anyway, the good sport. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. And super happy! It’ll be good to get back in the swing of things.”

He stays quiet for just a beat too long, and you might’ve called him on it if you hadn’t been so focused on breathing properly. “You have decided to rejoin X-Men? Actively?”

You shrug. “I miss working with everyone. I miss helping people. I miss doing things.”

He chuckles at that. “Very understandable, dorogoy. For now, how about we get you showered and fed.”

“I can be amenable to that.” You grin up at him. “But only if you join me in the shower.”

He smirks back down at you. “I can be convinced.”

It takes you a while to stop hemming and hawing over whether or not to run missions with the rest of the X-Men. You know you’re good at it, that your skills are immensely useful, but you don’t want a repeat of the Hell’s Kitchen incident; you don’t want to put your friends in danger.

And then Mikhail hits you in the head with an energy pulse, and you get a proper diagnosis, and you finally land on a choice.

You want to be an X-Man. Woman. Person.

Whatever.

“Is it weird that I miss doing missions?” You’re hanging out with Piotr in his art studio, watching him work on a painting of a vase of flowers. “Like, you’ve done them longer than I have. Do you think it’s weird?”

He smiles gently as he carefully paints delicate petals on the flowers. “Nyet. Not so much. You like to be active. To help others. To me, sense is made.”

You can’t help but grin at the mild mis-phrasing; you press on. “I want to get back into it. Now that I know it can all be managed, I want to get back into things. Like, soon. I miss the action.”

“Understandable,” Piotr says after a beat of silence. “But… perhaps it is better to wait.”

“Wait?” You frown. “What do you mean?”

“You… have never been on medication before. Perhaps… perhaps it would be best to make sure you find medicine that works before re-entering field work.”

And that… makes sense. A lot of sense, actually.

“Yeah,” you agree as you flop down in the over-stuffed armchair Piotr keeps in his studio. “Probably best not to be newly fucking with my brain chemical when I start doing missions again.”

Piotr smiles, but given your new position you can’t see that it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Da. Very wise thinking, myshka.”

Sitting out of missions while getting your meds worked out turns out to be a good idea. Given your “latent healing factor,” certain medications don’t work for you. Add to that the list of medication that are not compatible with mutants, and, well—

You wind up in a tough spot, to say the least.

Piotr stays by your side for all of it, true to form. He holds you in his arms while you deal with the ups and downs of weaning on and off of different doses, keeps your hair out of your face when one of the prescriptions you try winds up making you nauseous as all get out, and rubs your back when the medications invariably fuck up your sleep cycle and make it hard to wind down.

He’s a gem. Your gem, to be specific.

Fortunately, the medication journey is much shorter lived than the diagnosis journey. Within six months, you’re on a dose that works with you and the telepathic therapy you’re also doing.

“You know, I was worried that the meds would be like the repression serum for me,” you comment one early spring night as you and Piotr get ready for bed.

He pauses changing into pajamas to kiss the top of your head. “How so?”

“I don’t know, I just thought… I thought I’d be afraid to be anywhere without it. That I wouldn’t be able to go do anything without dosing myself, just to be safe. But it’s not like that at all. It’s not about my mutation, it’s about me. About my brain. And it’s not to keep me controlled, it’s to help me feel better. And I like that.”

Piotr smiles and kisses the bridge of your nose. “I am so glad, dorogoy. You deserve to feel better.”

“Well, I certainly think so.” You grin up at him as he finishes changing. “And, now that I’ve got my medication worked out, I can get back to being an X-Man. Woman. Person. Thing.”

You expect Piotr to smile along with you, so it’s surprising to see a flash of a frown cross his face before he turns away and fidgets with his phone real quick. “You are… you are sure you wish to rejoin?”

“Well, yeah,” you say with a frown of your own. “I mean… do you not want me to?”

“Nyet, nyet. Konechno, net. I simply figured…”

“Figured what, Piotr?”

“That you would want to get back into fighting condition, first,” he finishes lamely as he finally –finally—plugs his phone into his charger.

And, not for the first time since you’ve mentioned that you want to rejoin the X-Men, you’ve got a sneaking feeling that he’s trying to stall you. To protect you, in his own –misguided, controlling—way.

He’s right, though. Six months of ups and downs with medication, your diet, and your sleep cycle have left you no where near the condition you need to be in to do right by whichever team you wind up working with.

“Fair enough,” you concede with a yawn. You flop down on the bed and wiggle your way under the covers. “Turn the light off; I’m beat.”

You work yourself. Hard. You spend at least an hour in the gym every day, save for one full day of rest. You alternate which muscle groups you work each day, making sure that you give each set of muscles time to recoup before you work them again.

Fortunately, the ‘teacher assisting’ and grading work you’ve been doing for nearly your entire stay at Xavier’s is flexible. More often than not, you’ve got it with you in some facsimile while you exercise so that you can stay on top of everything.

The amount of working out you do does keep you away from missions –and, unfortunately, Piotr as well—but it does give you time to think.

Specifically, about your darling boyfriend and love of your life.

It’s not hard to tell that Piotr’s sidelining you. He isn’t cutting you down or making you question your abilities; in fact, every step of progress you make he’s praising you, encouraging you.

But, the fact remains: he’s sidelining you. Deliberately bringing up obstacles to keep you from running missions. Granted, he hasn’t brought up anything invalid or stupid, but you know your boyfriend. You know when he’s trying to protect you via controlling you. It’s not the first time you’ve been on the receiving end of this treatment, and it probably won’t be the last. Piotr copes with his stress by micromanaging. It’s a simple fact.

The fact that he won’t talk to you about whatever’s stressing him out, however, is bugging you. Big time.

I thought we were a team, you think as you put yourself through your paces on a treadmill one sunny –if chilly—early spring morning. But we can’t be a team if he won’t talk to me.

“He’s pushing me out,” you admit to Neena over a cup of coffee. The two of you had gone out so you could talk uninterrupted –a near impossible feat when school was in session—and so that you didn’t have to risk Piotr overhearing while you were trying to figure yourself out. “I just wish he’d tell me what’s bugging him.”

Neena raises an eyebrow at that. “You don’t mind him micromanaging things?”

You shake your head. “I’ve known for a while that it’s how he copes with stress. Honestly, given how discombobulated my head is at any given moment, I kinda depend on it. I just wish he’d talk to me when he’s worrying about something.” You frown into your mug. “Am I asking for two different things from him? Like, if I’m willing to let him have his bad habits –because I have mine too, and I’m not gonna expect him to be perfect if I’m not—is it even right to want him to just talk to me?”

Neena shakes her head after a moment. “I don’t think so. It’s one thing if he just micromanages how the fridge is arranged or how stuff gets put away, but it’s another thing when he’s micromanaging you. That’s an indicator of bigger stress, and he should talk to you about that.”

“Which is what I figured,” you agree. “He doesn’t have the right to sideline me just because I’m scared. I need to be able to make my own decisions without him interfering. If he has concerns, he should just talk to me about them!”

“Exactly. And if you disagree, that’s your prerogative.”

“Right.” You sigh and slump back in your seat. “I just… I’m tired of always having to fish stuff out of him. I want him to come to me. But I don’t want to be passive aggressive either…”

“If you don’t confront him, are you going to not do it to specifically try to punish him?” Neena asks, pointing her half-eaten biscotti at you. “Are you going to cold shoulder him?”

You shake your head. “No. I think he might just need to run the course on this one, you know?”

“Well, in that case, don’t confront him yet. Keep doing you, and start taking steps to handle things on your own. Get your shit in order and get back onto active duty without him. The fastest way he’s going to learn that he can’t micromanage you is if you sidestep him completely. You’re an adult; you can make your own decisions and call your own shots.”

You nod slowly as you mull the idea over. “Yeah. That might be the best way to do this.”

It doesn’t take too long for you to get yourself back into fighting shape. By the time the school year’s almost out, you’re back in mission condition.

You’ve also taken the luxury of participating in the group sparring the X-Men do to keep their skills sharp, having anticipated Piotr would pick that as the next “reason” for you to not rejoin the mission roster. As far the group you’ve been working with is concerned, you’re ready to start missions again whenever you feel like it.

Which takes you straight to Xavier’s office. When in doubt, talk to the man in charge.

Getting things straightened out with the Professor takes virtually no time at all. With your exercise, training, and therapy records, you’ve got all the –virtual—paper trail you need to warrant him switching your status from ‘inactive’ to ‘active.’

You thank the Professor as you exit his office—

And nearly collide nose-first with Piotr’s steel chest.

“Moya lyubov’?” He frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting put back on the active duty roster for missions,” you say simply, as though it’s simple.

Which, technically, it is.

Piotr opens his mouth to see something, notices the Professor watching –the two of you are in his office, it’s not like he’s being a snoop—before ushering you into the hallway and closing the door. He escorts you a few feet away from the door –ever the gentleman—so the two of you can talk in relative privacy. “Myshka… are you sure this is good idea?”

“Alyssa thinks I’m ready, as does the team I’ve been training with to make sure I was on par against opponents,” you say. “And Xavier thought my records were sufficient justification to put me back on the list.”

Sad as the context of the situation is –and the stress and fear your know Piotr’s dealing with—it is a little satisfying to watch him flounder of the face of ‘you actually sorted your shit out and I wasn’t betting on that.’

Before he can say anything, though, Jean comes sprinting down the hall. “Y/N! Cable just called for backup! He and Wade accidentally stumbled into one of Magneto’s hideouts! We need to move out to help them!”

Your boyfriend stiffens. “Where—”

“You can’t come, Colossus,” Jean says quickly. “Magneto’s on site. Non-metal powers only.”

“I have to go.” You pop up to kiss your boyfriend’s cheek. “We’ll talk when I get back.” You sprint down the hall, keeping stride with Jean.

“Suit up and head out as fast as you can,” Jean says as she runs towards the hangar bay the jets are kept in. “We’ll be following you. I’ll send the coordinates to your phone.”

The site is an abandoned warehouse set on an equally abandoned, broken down industrial dock. Twisted piles of metal rebar lie everywhere –no wonder Magneto picked this spot to work out of—and various weeds are sprouting up from cracks in the concrete.

It’s also easy enough to track down Wade and Nate. You just follow the sounds of Wade’s pissed off screaming and the general sounds of rampant destruction until you practically walk into the fight scene.

Magneto and a few –much fewer than you expected, Wade and Nate must have caught him off guard as opposed to walking into a trap—of his men are facing down Wade and Nate.

Well, it’s not much of a face down since Magneto’s got a hold of all of Wade and Nate’s weapons, the weapons being metal and whatnot.

“Give me my guns back, you crotchety, geriatric fuck!” Wade screams as he pops his head over a concrete highway divider.

You land in the middle of the fracas, sending a gust of wind at Magneto and his henchman that knocks them all off their feet. “What’s good, dudes?”

“Oh, kickass entrance with casual catchphrase!” Wade chirps. “Very nice! Very on trend!”

Several meters behind you, the X-Jet lands on an open patch of concrete. The ramp to the main bay lowers, and Jean flies out followed by Bobby, Scott, Ororo, and Kitty –who’s clad in her trainee crop top, no less.

“It’s over, Magneto!” Scott says, pointing at him with an air of –arrogant—authority. “Whatever you’re planning won’t come to fruition.”

“See, now that’s just forced,” Wade says as he watches Scott, shaking his head. “So tripe-y. Yawn.”

“I am surprised you would declare this event over,” Magneto declares evenly as he stands up and dusts himself off. “Considering you nothing of what I am planning –to say nothing of the fact that I have not even started yet.”

“Give it up, Erik,” Jean says, glaring him down. “You’re outmatched and you have nowhere to run to.”

Magneto’s –Erik’s—lips curl into a cruel smirk. “On the contrary. You have given me everything I need to succeed.” He lifts his hand—

And Nate drops to his knees with a scream of pain.

Wade’s by his side in an instant, holding him. “Nate! No!”

Your stomach churns with horror as Nate’s screams echo off the concrete around you. They’re tortured, like nothing you’ve ever heard before.

Your vision goes red when you see a little streak of metal worm its way up Nathan’s neck. He’s activating the virus. He’s—

You whirl on Magneto. You can see his lips moving, no doubt saying something about trading Nate’s life for the escape of Magento and his team, but it doesn’t matter. You don’t care.

To your credit –or perhaps the credit of Magneto’s sense of self-preservation—he pales when you launch yourself at him. He lifts a twisted, thick steel beam with his other hand and launches it at you.

You let out an enraged scream and bat it away with an air current.

The beam punches through the side of a warehouse wall and clatters across the floor inside, out of view.

Magneto and his men look at the hole in the warehouse, then look at you –then tuck tail and run.

No.

You throw yourself after them, teeth clenched together as you keep your eye trained on Magneto’s dark red getup. You’re going down. I will dig your grave myself.

It’s not hard to catch up with him. Despite his ability to fly –and his energy and strength, which completely belies his age—you’re just plain old faster than him. It takes nothing to get in front of him, cutting off his escape from the abandoned docks.

He grits his teeth, then starts launching various discard scraps of rusted metal at you.

You cast a ball of whirling air around you, letting the random chunks of metal and hunks of rebar bounce away from you and across the concrete. Shield in place, you hurtle towards him again. “No one! Gave you! The right! To hurt others!”

“And no one had the right to hurt me, the rest of mutantkind!” he shouts back as he tries to press a steel beam through your air shield. “I will do whatever I have to make sure we are never hurt again!”

You send the bar flying with a flick of your wrist before you bear down on him once more. This fucking asshole—

No killing, Y/N. Jean’s voice echoes in your mind. We don’t kill.

Oh, you think back. I’m not gonna kill him. But he’s definitely gonna feel this for a few weeks.

By all means.

It takes a couple minutes to get Magneto where you want him, but you manage to corner him between the warehouse wall and you.

He sneers at you. “You’re all blind. You won’t take the shot.”

You narrow your eyes at him, fury boiling in your chest.

And then you unleash the mother of all sonic screams at him.

Magneto goes flying through the warehouse wall –which collapses before he hits it, which means you haven’t just turned him into gelatin—and out the hole you made with the steel beam earlier. He bounces across the pavement and rolls to a stop with a pained groan.

Before he can move, you snap a mutation repression cuff around his wrist. When he glares at you, you grab him by his cape and start dragging him towards the X-Jet. “You’re coming with us. Asshole.”

As fortune would have it, the rest of your team’s already captured the few henchmen Magneto had been working with. Kitty’s rambling excitedly about the fact that she managed to corner and take down one of the men all by herself, Jean and Ororo are listening and praising her—

And Wade and Nate are sitting off to the side.

You shove Magneto into one of the holding cells, then walk over to where your brother and dad are resting. You kneel in front of Nathan and give him a fraught once over. “How are you feeling?”

“Been worse,” he spits out through gritted teeth. He shoots a venomous glare in Magento’s direction. “Been a lot better, too.”

You squeeze his hands sympathetically. “Don’t worry. He got his. I made sure of it.”

“Yeah, I saw.” Nate smirks. “Not bad work, kid.”

“Alright,” Jean announces as Scott puts the last henchman in a holding cell. “That’s everyone. Let’s head back to the mansion.”

As per protocol, everyone heads to the medical wing for a basic evaluation and check up as soon as the jet touches down in the hangar.

Melissa, a purple-skinned healer that came to Xavier’s around the same time you did, smiles at you as you walk into your designated room. “Hey, Y/N. How’d everything go?”

“Magneto accelerated some of Nathan’s virus,” you say bitterly.

“I heard about that. Hopefully we’ll be able to help with some of the pain, if nothing else.” She starts checking your pupillary reaction with a penlight. “How’d it feel getting out in the field again?”

“Really good, actually. No incidents to report.”

“That’s great.”

There’s the tell-tale sound of heavy, metallic footsteps in the hall, and then Piotr’s standing in the doorway.

You don’t miss the nervous expression on his face and favor him with a soft smile. “Hey, babe.”

“Hi, Colossus,” Melissa echoes before addressing you once more. “Your pupillary response looks fine. We’ll do a quick set of X-rays, just to make sure everything’s good, and if that clears you’ll be good to go. Colossus, sorry, I’ll either need you to step out or armor down…”

“Up to you,” you say quietly when Piotr looks to you for instruction.

He armors down and steps just inside of the room, as out of the way he can be, given his size.

The X-rays go quickly, and –sure enough—all things are good.

“Alright, you’re all set,” Melissa says as she updates your medical records for the Institute’s database. She seems to notice the tension in both yours and Piotr’s shoulders –finally. “I’ll give you two the room so you can catch up.”

Your phone chirps as she walks out. You unlock it and check a text –from Charles, apparently.

The Prof: Will require your assistance with Magneto.

Your phone chirps again as another text pops up on the screen.

The Prof: Whenever you are ready.

Technically, you’re ready right now.

Not technically, you have a boyfriend you need to attend to first.

Magneto can wait, you decide as you pocket your phone. You look over at Piotr, who’s very occupied with looking at his shoes. “Hey.”

He looks up at you, guilt easy to read on his face. “Privet.” He swallows visibly. “I am… relieved you are well.”

“That makes two of us.” You pause for a moment, giving him an opportunity to speak. When he doesn’t, you sigh. Alright. Time to handle the elephant in the room. “You’ve been sidelining me from missions.”

He winces at the accusation. “Myshka, I—”

“No, that’s what you’ve been doing and you know it,” you say in a calm, level voice.

You’re not used to being this calm when dealing with confrontation. Normally, you’re used to exploding and raging until it all passes.

Maybe it’s that you know and trust Piotr, maybe it’s all the therapy you’ve been doing –it’s probably both, actually—but for now you’re just content to role with it.

You cross your arms over your chest. “You’ve been trying to keep me away from missions. And, since I know you, I’d hazard a guess that it’s because you’re scared of losing after the Hell’s Kitchen fiasco. Correct?”

He nods, looking down at his shoes again. “Da. You are right.”

“And you never thought to talk to me about your feelings? About any of it?”

His face creases with hurt. “I thought you would not listen.”

“And how would you know, since you didn’t try?” You walk over to him when he grimaces and turns his head away from you. “Piotr, I’ll cop to being the most stubborn pain in the ass at the mansion when Wade’s not around, okay? But I care about you, and I care about how you feel. If you don’t even give me the chance to listen to you, how am I supposed to know what you want, much less figure out if there’s a way to give it to you?”

He meets your gaze again, eyes shining with tears. “I almost lost you. I… I cannot go through that again. I love you, I want to be with you—”

“I love you, too,” you say when he cuts himself off, too overcome with emotion to speak. “More than anything, Piotr. But if you’re willing to manipulate me on stuff like this, who’s to say that you won’t once we’re married? Or have kids? We can’t be a team if you don’t communicate, Piotr, and it’s not fair to me to have you micromanage me, to have you not talk to me.” You purse your lips, then press on to finish your thought. “I can’t play second fiddle to your fear, Piotr. You have to pick one or the other.”

His eyes widen. “What—”

“I love you, Piotr. So damn much.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat. “But… but if you’re gonna choose to manipulate me instead of communicate with me, then… then I can’t be with you. We can’t be together if that’s what you’re gonna choose. And don’t—” You hold up a hand when he opens his mouth to reply “—don’t say anything about ‘you’ll always choose me’ right now. I know you, and I know you love me, and I trust that you want to choose me, but I want you to think about this. I want you to think about whether or not you can even accomplish it, and if you can how you’re going to do it. Okay?”

He closes his mouth, swallows hard, then nods. “Da. Khorosho. Okay. I… I will do that.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest as a tear slips down his cheek; you reach up to brush it away with your thumb. “I love you, Piotr. I love you so much.”

He wraps his arms around you and presses his forehead against yours. “I love you also, Y/N. You are… you are everything to me. Moye serdtse. Moye solntse. Moya dusha.”

You press your lips against his, and your heart cracks open at how passionately and tenderly and desperately he kisses you, and when you pull back you’re kinda sorta definitely crying, too.

“I love you,” he whispers as he cradles your face in his hands.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him one last time, then step back. “I have to go. Charles needs my help with Magneto.”

He nods, expression strained but understanding. “Da. Go. We will… we will talk later.”

You nod. “Yeah.” You kiss him one last time –you can’t help yourself, you love him—and then walk out of the examination room and down the hall.

The tension in Xavier’s office is palpable. Charles is seated behind his desk, engaged in a stare-down with a peeved looking Magneto –who’s changed into a button down shirt, a suit jacket, and slacks, somehow; the repression cuff still blinks on his wrist, a reminder that he’s powerless until someone decides that he shouldn’t be.

Wade and Nate are seated by one of the windows, watching Magneto with the precision and barely repressed aggression usually reserved for apex predators. Wade’s actually got his sword out, twirling it idly as he stares down one of the most powerful mutants known to history.

It’s a bit of a head trip, to say the least.

“I was summoned,” you say by way of greeting as you close the door behind you.

“Y/N.” The Professor shoots you a strained smile. “We seem to be at a bit of a stalemate. I was hoping you would be able to smooth things out—”

“You were hoping the young woman I consider as a daughter would be able to placate me into taking your side,” Nathan snaps. “Which is not gonna happen.”

“What sides are we even looking at?” you ask, feeling very much like a child being yanked into a messy pre-divorce argument. “What did I just walk into?”

“Knockoff psychic Seth Everman here—” Wade points his katana at Xavier “—wants to let Captain Magnet Kink here go. With a fucking warning.”

You –barely—manage to keep your face neutral as you look over at Charles. “Reason being?”

“I spent the first few years of my life in a Nazi prison camp,” Magneto spits out. “I am not going back into another one with a different label.”

Okay, you think as you try –and fail—to produce a counterargument to that statement. Guilt trip, trump card combo. Nice. “Wow. Alright. Uh. Not sure where to go from there.” You frown. “Okay, Professor –why did you even bring me in here? Like, you know Nate’s stance, you would’ve known that my being here wouldn’t change that, so why am I here?”

Charles steeples his fingers. “I was hoping in the event that Mr. Summers and Mr. Wilson would not… acquiesce to Erik’s release… you might be able to persuade Erik to… see our view of things. A guarantee of better behavior in the future, if you will.”

Magneto –Erik—rolls his eyes. “I have already made my stance clear, Charles. I will never side with inaction. The only way mutants will be safe is if we fight back and fight back now.”

“We are not about inaction,” Charles retorts. “We are about education. Which we cannot do effectively if you and your group of criminals are constantly causing chaos and striking fear into the hearts of non-mutants.”

“They should be afraid!” Erik snaps. “Non-mutants have held us under their boots for as long as the world remembers. They should be afraid, and they should flee like the bigoted cowards they are!”

“And what about the mutants that disagree with how you do things?” you interject before the two men can gain too much momentum with their argument. “What about those that stand up to you because some of your methods are violent, or dangerous? What then?”

“If they get in my way, they get what is coming to them.”

“How can you call yourself a champion for mutantkind if you’re willing to hurt mutants that get in your way?” you ask. “You can’t just walk all over people who disagree with you; there’s going to be people who don’t believe in your methods. That’s life. Deal with it.”

Erik narrows his eyes at you and draws himself up to his full height –which, for a man that’s pushing ‘definitely not spry anymore’ is impressively tall. “Those who refuse to act, or stand in the way of those that do, are complicit in the violence of our oppressors. Not doing anything is not an option!”

“We’re not doing ‘nothing,’” you fire back.

“Is that what you think?” he seethes. “You practice nonviolence against those who would have us killed. The last time I watched that happen, my people were gassed in extermination camps. I will not sit by and do nothing. Not now, not ever again. Perhaps you do not understand—”

“I understand perfectly well!” you snap, indignation rising in your chest.

Erik sneers at you. “You really think you can understand persecution the way I do? I watched my mother get shot by Gestapo agents when she refused to board the trains to the camps. I was put in a work camp and left to die.” He rolls up his sleeve, revealing a faded string of numbers tattooed on his forearm. “This, this is what persecution looks like. You could not possibly understand.”

“Oh, I understand just fine,” you growl out. “I was raised by anti-mutant parents in an anti-mutant community. I was beaten with a belt on a daily basis because I couldn’t control my mutation. I was hunted by men with rifles and shotguns when I tried to run away! My parents tried to have a telepath remove my mutation, which nearly killed me! Just because my experiences aren’t identical to yours doesn’t mean I don’t understand pain and persecution! So, buddy, if you want someone to walk down shitty ol’ memory lane with you and compare wounds, I’m glad to do and I’ll match you step for step!” You let that hang for a moment, then take a deep breath and continue when Erik doesn’t say anything. “Or, we can have a productive conversation and work on finding some sort of compromise that works as much as it possibly can.”

Erik scowls at you. “I am not interested in working with the enemy.”

“We’re not the enemy!” you shout. “Just because we’ve picked a different path doesn’t make us the enemy! And it’s not like your way is the end all, be all! No, no!” You glare at him when he opens his mouth to speak. “Look at him!” You point at Nate. “You were willing to run the risk of killing him just to get what you want. He’s a mutant; he’s your kind. If you’re willing to fuck over your own people to get your way, you’re the enemy we all need to be worried about. You cannot say you’re for mutants and then be selective based on our beliefs. Your pain and past experiences does not, will not, will never give you the right to do that! Never!”

Erik glances over at Nate then looks away, looking somewhat chastened.

“Look, Erik, I’m sorry for what you went through as a kid,” you say, gentler. “It’s fucked up and should have never happened to you. But if you want to make sure that never happens to mutants –to anyone—ever again, you can’t keep fighting us along the way. We’re the two different sides of the same coin. We need each other.”

He raises an eyebrow at that. “What… do you have in mind?”

You keep your face neutral, even as you’re stunned by the monumental breakthrough you just managed to set up. You take a deep breath and move on to the next part of your rant-speech-thing. “We need people like Charles –like the Institute—to take care of the ‘non-war’ stuff. Education, specialized training, housing for mutants kicked out of their homes. That kind of stuff requires special licensing which, given how many statutes and legal conventions you’ve broken, isn’t going to be possible for you to pull off. Some of us have to stay within the laws to take care of the kids and teens that can’t defend themselves. It’s how it has to be.”

“Agreed,” Erik says slowly. “I am surprised you are not advocating for ‘setting the model example.’”

“The decent people of the world? They’ll believe that,” you say. “They do exist. They’ll see us and support us. But there are a lot of non-decent people in this world. Places like Harmony, where I grew up. Traffickers. Government agencies that would exploit us for our abilities. That’s where we need people like you.”

“The X-Men do not practice or condone violence,” Charles interjects.

“And you’re a hypocrite on that,” you fire back. You hired my uncle as your hitman, you think at him. Don’t you dare try to paint yourself as a saint. “And you refuse to acknowledge that there are people who will never be swayed by what we’re doing. The people who’ve already decided they have the right to hurt us based on what makes us different are never going to care about what laws we get passed in our favor or what sort of example we set. And for them, we need people like Erik—” and my uncle “—to remind that when they try to hit us, we’ll hit back. The only thing that will stop them is knowing that we won’t be walked over.”

Erik smirks when Charles doesn’t argue back. “You seem… very willing to trust someone who has hurt your friends before.”

You smirk back at him. “Well, that’s because if you ever do anything like that again, no one is going to find what’s left of your body. I promise you that.”

He arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t seem too perturbed. “You would say that to a Holocaust survivor.”

Don’t let him see you flinch, you think to yourself.

Because what this really comes down to is if you’re willing to kill to protect the people you love.

And you are.

“You’re damn right I will,” you say, voice low and lethal. You stare up at him, unblinking while he scrutinizes you.

The corner of his mouth turns up after a moment. “You, Ms. L/N, are going places –and I cannot wait to see what those places are.” He looks over at Charles. “I only work with her. None of your other pacifistic followers, just her.”

You blink. Wait, what?

“Y/N is technically still a trainee,” Charles says, seemingly just as shocked as you are. “She is not—”

“Well, then, you better fast-track her for full status,” Erik retorts. “Because I work with her or no one else.”

Charles nods after a moment. “Very well. If that’s what gets you to cooperate.”

“Wonderful. Now that we straightened that out—” He holds up his arm, where the repression cuff is still latched around his wrist. “Get this damn thing off me.”

Charles sighs and wheels out from the behind the desk. “Yes. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to someone who can do that for you.”

You wait until the two older men exit Xavier’s office, then look over at Nate and Wade. “Are you guys alright?”

Nathan shrugs. “Sure.”

You wince. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you guys out of it or—”

The corner of Nathan’s mouth turns up in a smile and he shakes his head. “Xavier threw you off a deep end. You priority was to make sure you could swim, not check and see if everyone else was swimming, too.”

You dart over and wrap your arms around him in a hug. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll live. Hurt more than anything.” He places a fatherly kiss on the top of your head. “You did good, kid.”

“She did better than good,” Wade comments. “She handed Magneto his balls.”

You look over at your honorary brother. “Are you alright?”

Wade nods. “Nate’s right. Xavier threw you the motherfucker of all curve balls. You did good. Besides, I trust your judgement.”

The praise makes you teary, and you manage to eek out a “thank you” as you let go of Nate. “Alright, I need to go wrap things up. You two just… make out on Xavier’s couch, or something.”

“Ooh,” Wade says as you walk out of the Professor’s office. “There’s an idea!”

You call your uncle as soon as you find a quiet enough spot and update him on everything that’s happened.

He congratulates you on doing the conflict resolution version of defusing a nuclear missile –“Yeah, Chuck’s kinda shitty about tossing people off a cliff sometimes.”—and gives you the go ahead to give Erik his number so that he can coordinate with your uncle on various missions –“Hey, as long as I can beat the shit out of him if he tries to jack me over, I’m good.”

You wind up escorting Erik –and his henchman—out to a waiting car on the front drive. You hand him a card with your uncle’s number written on it. “Someone will be contacting you through this number in the next forty-eight hours about how your partnership with the X-Men will proceed.”

He smirks. “So, you were not bluffing when you called Charles a ‘hypocrite.’ Interesting.”

“I don’t take shots I can’t make.”

He studies you for a moment, then smiles and shakes his head. “You are indeed going places, Ms. L/N. A shame you decided to limit your destinations by tethering yourself to the Institute.”

“Good for me that my opinion’s the only one that counts on that,” you fire back. “I think I’m doing fine.”

He smirks, then heads towards the car. “I will be seeing you, Ms. L/N.”

“I bet,” you mutter under your breath. You watch the car drive off, then jog back inside the house.

You’ve got a boyfriend to talk to.

You find Piotr in your shared room, sitting on the bed.

He’s armored down and dressed in casual clothes, staring ahead at the wall opposite the bed. His eyes look puffy, his nose is red, and there’s a pile of used tissues sitting next to him on the bed.

You shuck your flight jacket off –you haven’t had a chance to change out of your mission garb—and run over to the bed.

Piotr yanks you to him, pulling you to his chest in a borderline crushing hug.

You’re holding him just as tight.

“The Professor updated me on everything,” he says, voice slightly hoarse. “He says… you got Magneto to cooperate?”

“I think I just spewed a lot of bullshit that happened to make sense,” you say, a little shaky now that you’re out of all of it and coming down from a shitwhack of adrenaline. “I’m just surprised I didn’t write a check my proverbial dick couldn’t cash.”

He lets out a soft huff of a laugh. “You are gifted, myshka. Do not sell yourself short.” His face puckers with grief, and he drops his gaze to where his hands are holding yours. “And... I am so sorry for… manipulating you. I –I did not want to, I was not trying to, I just could not bear thoughts of losing you again—”

You press your forehead again. “Babe, I know, okay? I know that keeping everything organized and controlled is how you cope with stress, alright? I know what I’m walking into with you; it was never the fact that you were controlling, it was that you wouldn’t talk to me. That you wouldn’t try to manage your stress in a way that was healthy for both of us.”

He nods. “Da. I understand. And I did think, as you asked me.” He swallows hard and swipes at his damp cheeks with the back of his hand. “I think, for this specific instance, I never fully processed everything. I went from incident to taking care of you to my family to teaching. I never had a chance to address my fear or my grief. So, for this, I think some counselling would help me with that.”

“I think that sounds good,” you agree, encouraging. “And it makes sense.”

“As for possible future incidents…” He shoots you a nervous look before continuing. “I… confess I could not think of much. I can work with therapist for ideas, but on my own—”

You shush him gently when the pitch of his voice starts rising –it’s the closest to panicky you’ve ever seen him. “I’m not asking you to have all the details worked out. I wasn’t expecting you to have the details worked out. The fact that you’re committed to figuring out what tools you need to cope and how to get them is good enough for me.”

His shoulders sag visibly with relief. “Khorsho.” He wraps his arms around you and holds you against his chest. “Thank you.”

You kiss his collarbone, then his jaw. “I love you, Piotr. You’re my whole damn world. You know that, right?”

He nods, pressing his lips against your forehead. “And you are my world.” He exhales shakily, then lets you go to toss the pile of used Kleenexes in the trash. “I should take care of these.”

“Did you really cry that much?” You ask, heart tearing into for your giant marshmallow of a boyfriend. “Babe…”

“I was worried,” he admits. “That this would be the end of us.”

You shake your head. “I didn’t think it would come to that. I knew that you’d be able to give me a good answer. And I didn’t want to scare you –didn’t say any of it to scare you—but this is serious to me, and I had to convey that it was serious—”

“It is serious,” he agrees as he traces over your ring finger with his thumb. “It is good to take seriously. So… we are good?”

You smile fondly at him. “We’re good.”

He leans in and presses his lips against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kisses you gently –and then not gently at all. He pulls you into his arms, kisses you like a drowning man tasting air for the first time, clutches at your body like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

You’re clinging to him as well, tugging at his hair and rocking your hips against his. It’s like a fire coursing through you; you don’t care if you burn.

He mouths at your neck, presses wet, open-mouthed kisses at the spot where your skin gives way to the collar of your shirt. “I need you.” His voice breaks when he speaks, making him sound all the more crazed.

You lean back to shuck your shirt off and toss it somewhere behind you, press a gasping kiss to his lips. “I need you, too.” You cling to his shoulders as he rolls so you’re pressed between the bed and him.

The future’s uncertain. You don’t care about the future.

You’ve got Piotr, here and now. That’s all you need.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #cablepool #got some plot and some angst and some almost smut #what more do you need?#x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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irwintry · 6 years ago

Text

How to Attract a Sea Bear

Warnings: swearing, alcohol

Author’s Note: 1. Play the clarinet badly 2. Wave a flashlight back and forth really fast (flashlights are their natural prey) 3. Stomp on the ground (they take it as a challenge) 4. Eat cubed cheese – sliced is safe 5. Wear a sombrero in a goofy fashion 6. Wear clown shoes 7. Wear a hoop skirt 8. Screech like a chimpanzee 9. Run (makes them attack again) 10. Limp (worse than running) 11. Crawl (worse than limping)

Word Count: 6k

But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever, So I think I'll be six now forever and ever.”

― A.A. Milne, Now We Are Six

Up until Luke, there were two types of people in the world. Those who were family (the ones who had to love you unconditionally no matter how many walls you scribbled Patrick Star on) and those who were your classmates. Close friends weren’t in the picture yet. Though public school had been going on for nearly two years now, you were perfectly content with keeping to yourself in the back of the classroom. A sheet of paper and a crayon were enough to keep you happy.

And then, Luke Hemmings had to come and ruin it all.

It was his first day of school after moving to town, and he decided to waltz right up to you and compliment your drawing of the Krusty Krab. If you had kept your mouth shut, you weren’t sure what would have happened. Maybe he would have kept bothering you. But instead, you said “thank you”, and he sat down right at your table while you went on about his funny accent. The other kids stared, of course. You never talked to anyone! Not even the teacher.

When you asked your parents if you could have Luke over for a playdate, they nearly cried. You took the time to introduce him to all of your toys, and he listened. And he was willing to play with them! No one could believe it. Of all of the people on the earth to become your first best friend, they were thrilled to know that it was the nicest one possible.

Slumber parties were common, mostly so the two of you could watch cartoons together the next morning with Eggo waffles or Lucky Charms. Couches became forts while your parents tried their best not to think of the future potential the friendship could have. It was hard not to hope for their child to love someone as wonderful as Luke was to you.

First years became second years, then third to fourth, and nothing changed between the two of you. You couldn’t imagine it ever changing. Not at all.

“He was thirteen that year, the age when children splinter off and abandon the old loves.” ― Mark Costello

“If you don’t change the channel, I’ll sit on your face and suffocate you.”

“Thank god you said you’d kill me, otherwise that doesn’t sound like much of a threat.”

Luke had been in this situation with you a million times. Your place or his– he was used to constant back-and-forth banter. If there was no banter, then the two of you were most likely not together. The friendship of crude humor and gross farts had only just entered teendom, though Luke couldn’t imagine a thing would change. He knew you didn’t have cooties, and vice versa (he hoped). It didn’t matter. The seven-years-in-the-making friendship meant more than the jokes of scrawny preteens.

“I give you four seconds,” he said.

“Why four?”

“Three... two...”

“That’s a dumb– “

“One!” Luke pounced on you, his arms darting to taser your sides as you screamed and squirmed. Meanwhile, the two capri-suns had fallen to the hardwood with a small splat. “Stop screeching like a damn chimp,” he hissed, but he couldn’t hold in his laughter. “Sea bears don’t like that.”

“Don’t– “ You gasped for air, and finally, you were able to kick him off of you. The remote had dropped down to the floor beside the leaking drink pouches. “Don’t care. I’ll screech like a damn chimp if I wanna.”

“Your mum’s gonna hate that you swore.”

“Your mum is gonna hate that you swore.” You glanced down to the fallen heroes beside you. “You owe me a new Roarin’ Waters.”

“Only if you put on Spongebob.”

“Fine.”

Things were as simple as that. Luke never had to worry about upsetting you, nor you with him, and it all narrowed down to the similar personalities that had developed throughout the past three years. If Luke didn’t have you, he wouldn’t know who he would be.

He had a premonition– a hopeful tug at his heart when he thought what was to come between the two of you. Maybe it had been this way all along. Every side glance or puckered expression made sense in his mind. The humor the two of you shared was unlike any other, and he simply couldn’t fathom the possibility that someone else out there would one day share it with you as well. Luke had never considered himself a jealous person until the few times at your locker or during lunch when he wasn’t the only one in your world.

How could he have let himself get this attached to someone? It would take him years to know.

“Did I think he was “the one?” I’ll never know. At sixteen, everyone is “the one.”

― K.A. Tucker, Ten Tiny Breaths

It was a rare occurrence for you to keep a secret from Luke. You told him about your celebrity crushes and your desire to write fanfiction (there were minor judgments on his part). You told him about the darker sides to your parents’ divorce, and you always opened up to him about whatever insecurity was going through your mind. However, when your friend Hailey asked you who you though the hottest guy in school was, you knew you would never be able to let him know that you had said his name.

It was the age of formals and sappy first dates, though you still felt too young to understand the complexity of relationships. While everyone else was exploring new ways to make-out, you were too busy trying to get comfortable with yourself. Tight jeans, flannel shirts, and skater shoes were the keys to unlocking the ultimate prize when it came to high school. And Luke, well, the ultimate prize had won him.

You became the way to his heart. In order to get to him, everyone had to get through you. At first, being the gatekeeper didn’t seem all that bad. You controlled who was worthy. If they had done a few sketchy things within the past year, then Luke – through your words – just so happened to not have feelings for them.

As the year went on, more people were turned away, and things became, well, weird. Truth be told, every single person who went to you to seek out Luke was told he, unfortunately, was not interested in them, even if it wasn’t true. You were speaking through jealousy, not facts, and you never figured he would catch on.

So, when he did, naturally, it blew up in your face.

“Did you actually tell Marissa McKee that I didn’t like her?”

The walk home had been silent for quite some time. You could tell his outburst had been building ever since school let out.

“Like, what the actual fuck, Y/N?”

You huffed, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your fluffy sweatshirt. “H-how was I supposed t’know that you liked her?”

Luke chuckled dryly. “Jesus. I told you two weeks ago! You’re supposed to know because we’re best friends. Best friends know that shit. Best friends don’t tell the person their friend likes that they don’t like them back.”

“’m sorry.”

“How could you not know?” he continued. “Like– Jesus.”

You couldn’t figure out what else to say, and neither could Luke. The two of you parted ways a moment later once you turned on his block, and then it was only another neighborhood over in order to get to your place.

It wasn’t rocket science, but you couldn’t figure it out at the time. All you knew was that it possibly had something to do with calling him the hottest guy in school, but you left it at that.

“I wish," he said, "I had known at eighteen what I know now - that there are some things on which one does not compromise.”

― Mary Balogh, Simply Perfect

“Don’t eat that,” Luke said, voice rushed as his hand jumped to grasp yours. He had a point about his itchy sweater; the red, wool material scratched your skin, albeit barely grazing it. “Do you want to attract a sea bear? ‘m not a big fan of having to clean up blood from my mum’s carpets.”

You tried to keep a straight face as you lifted the cubed cheese off of the tray despite Luke’s request. “The final touch,” you mumbled and set a bland cracker just under the Swiss cube.

His eyes widened. “You’re a dumbass. A real, lactose-intolerant dumbass.”

“Shut up,” you replied with a smirk. But the cubed cheese wasn’t as good as you were hoping it would be.

The Hemmings Christmas parties carved the path for your favorite time of year. Somehow, the snow knew when to fall as ugly sweaters gathered in the living room you used to watch Teen Titans in. Cocktails and hors-d'oeuvres were served on platters, and children danced around legs longer than their own height. And the decorations... sometimes, you had no words. Everything had a place, and everything had a purpose.

This year, your nerves were on high alert. In years past, you and Luke would spend the majority of the night by each other’s side, making snide comments or talking “grown up” with other adults. His girlfriend came into the picture months ago. Nevertheless, she was invited, and she was late. You didn’t know what to do once she got here.

Luke’s nerves were also on high alert. It was the first time Lara was meeting his family, and her lack of punctuality was already not making a great impression. The funny part of it all was the fact that cared more about your impression overall. He needed your approval, whether he wanted to believe it or not. You were the only person who knew him better than he did.

The air stiffened when Lara walked in. Luke didn’t know why he noticed it, but he had, and maybe it was because he knew you better than you knew yourself as well. He could sense every dropped composure or change in expression. He convinced himself it was the twelve years of friendship that caused him to read you so intently. But he couldn’t let all of this bother him.

He hardly saw you throughout the next few hours of the night. And then, it was charades time.

“Ready to have your ass kicked for the fifth year in a row, Lukey?” you said with a smile so sweet it could melt anyone with eyes into a sugary puddle.

Luke shrugged, and his shoulders itched with the movement of his sweater. “Can you even reach my ass?”

“I have my secrets.” You plopped down into the chair across from him and began scribbling down ideas onto tiny slips of paper.

“A secret to reaching my ass? That sounds– “

“Hey, shut it,” said Liz, but she had cracked a smile. “Let’s get on with the game.”

You prided yourself in being the ultimate charades actor. Luke, on the other hand, could hardly figure out how to act out Ghostbusters. But, like you had a secret to reaching his ass, he had a secret to stumping you and your team. It was a miracle it even worked.

“Shit,” you muttered, reading the slip of paper in between your small fingers. Your eyes met his and immediately hardened into a glare. “Die.”

Luke burst into a small fit of laughter, and he hardly felt Lara’s grip on his hand loosen as he focused all of his attention onto you. With a sigh, you held up six fingers.

“Six words,” said his uncle. “Shit, really?”

You rolled your eyes before bringing your hands in front of you to begin acting. You tried your best to look as though you were playing clarinet, though a few other instruments had been shouted out as you kept going. A moment later, you were stomping and holding up the tray of cubed cheese while pounding on your chest like a damn chimp. Luke made sure he took a mental picture of this. He could never forget this moment.

“Time’s up,” Liz yelled through the loud chatter. “What the actual hell was that?”

You narrowed your eyes at your blond best friend and spat, “how to attract a fucking sea bear,” before running over to his spot on the couch to tackle him. His chest hurt from the laughter booming from his lungs, and he could hardly feel his face aside from the occasional burning of his cheeks.

Someone mumbled “that’s seven words”, but neither of you could hear as he attempted to push you off of him. Luke’s senses were overwhelmed. The loud laughing and shouting of the small yet crowded room, plus you being practically on top of his lap at the same time, were sending his brain into some euphoric state.

And somehow, he knew it would all come crashing down.

Lara took him aside moments later. “If you want to keep me around– “

Luke didn’t like where this was going.

“–you will keep your hands off of Y/N.”

Luke didn’t know how to say no.

“Everyone, at nineteen, is dumb and beautiful in equal parts...”

― Raphael Kadushin

need iced coffee rn

wanna come?

Luke had his comforter pushed up to his nose. Being home for the holidays meant feet dangling off of childhood beds, his mother’s infamous casseroles, and best of all, plenty of time to spend with you. He rubbed his tired eyes before slowly sitting up to answer your text.

You buying?

He replied and sighed, rubbing his neck and pushing his weight out of the twin-sized bed. The small murmur of chatter from the kitchen filled his ears, and if he was honest, he didn’t want to join the conversation. All Luke wanted was a long drive with you.

like hell

i’m drivin bitch

gimme gas $$

Luke chuckled at your response as he dug through his bottom drawer for a thin sweatshirt.

Fine I’m in

The next few minutes were filled with wandering around the small (and quite dirty) confines of his carpeted bedroom and humming along to whatever song popped into his sleepy brain. Your car was in the driveway before he realized, and soon, the familiar obnoxious honking bounced around the four walls.

“Luke, tell Y/N to shut the hell up!” shouted Liz from the kitchen, but it was all fun.

He let out another laugh before rushing into the living room and out of the house with a squeaky “g’bye”. You continued honking even when he clambered into the passenger seat, and a part of him wanted to let you keep going. You were smiling so damn big.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, hitting your hand away from the steering wheel. “Liz was seconds away from beating you up.”

“Tell her I want that,” you replied before pressing resume on whatever song had been playing on your phone. “If Liz can take me in a fight, then I don’t need goals. Like, I’m set for life after that.”

“Oh, but fighting me is just second nature?”

You shrugged as you began backing out of the driveway. “Yeah, I mean, you’re weak, so...”

“Fuck you.”

“Bet ya wish ya could.”

“I– “ Luke didn’t have a comeback, so he cut himself off.

You gasped. “Does that mean you actually want to fuck me?”

“No!” he exclaimed, his voice jumping up to a much higher octave (which usually occurred whenever he had to defend himself... it was either that, or he was lying).

You giggled, like you usually did when pressing his buttons, and then turned the music up.

Luke hadn’t thought much about sex without anyone else since breaking things off with Lara many months ago. It was tragic but true. No one consumed his mind; he hardly had the time to focus on fancying anyone. He knew how to satisfy himself enough, though Luke couldn’t help but wonder if he was broken. The thought only overwhelmed his mind for a split moment– your poor dancing to the Jonas Brothers distracted him meanwhile.

And then, he was thinking about you.

No, he hadn’t thought about fucking you. For the majority of his life, you felt like family. Hell, you were treated exactly like family. Somehow, along those lines, he still recognized the fact that you were special to him and only him. Years ago, he would have thought it weird to think about you in bed. He still thought it weird, but the more it washed over him, the less acidic the idea tasted on his tongue.

Luke could force the feelings away if he truly wanted to. He could forget he ever spent a moment thinking about you in this way. But instead, he grabbed your dainty hand, wedging his own fingers in between yours before slipping back into the new future his brain was conjuring up for him.

Most of all, you would have no idea that his skin flushed at the thought of spending an evening with you.

“He was twenty. I remembered twenty. I'd known everything at twenty. It took me another year to realize I knew nothing.”

― Laurell K. Hamilton, Circus of the Damned

His hands held the desire to crush the two plastic cups in his drunken grip. If he focused hard enough, he would trample the toes of ditzy dancers, their hips knocking hard into his path. Instead, his eyes were trained on you. You, with the curve of your neck aimed towards a taller man, were too busy to notice your best friend.

The contents of the one red cup spilled over his angry knuckles. Luke hardly noticed the sharp sensation of plastic digging into his skin until the alcohol hit the feet of innocent bystanders. There were loud yelps and threats, but he didn’t hear a single one. He envisioned the smoke streaming from his ears the moment you leaned into the man whose hand traced circles onto your waist.

Luke locked himself in the bathroom. The white-tiled room proved itself to be more interesting than the crowded college party he originally invited you to. There were pictures of city skylines and prints of surrealist paintings, but he couldn’t stay concentrated on one thing long enough before he lost himself in the thought of that man’s hands on you. Luke could have stopped it if he had the mental strength. But truth be told, he preferred feeling pathetic over disappointing you.

He had managed to get comfortable on the small fuzzy rug in front of the sink. His black t-shirt was covered in some alcoholic drink, and he assumed it had been yours before his fingers did the deed of crushing the solo cup to death. This jealousy had sprung up out of nowhere. If he hadn’t invited you over in the first place, he would have never experienced someone captivating your attention like he was so used to doing himself.

An hour of “occupied” and “someone’s in here” passed by slowly, and Luke spent the entire time checking his phone for texts from you. The same wallpaper of your face photoshopped onto Squidward greeted him every time. It reminded him of when a friend or stranger would ask who you were, and he would spend close to ten minutes trying to convince them that, no, he was not dating you. By that point, he’d rather say yes. He had enough knowledge of you to convince them.

someone said some blond has b een pukig his guts out in trhe bathrom for lik an hour now????

is that u??

are u ok

canm i c ome pee

Luke sighed. At least you had texted him.

Yeah, but I’m not puking

Pls join me

He sighed, resting his head against the wooden cabinet behind him as the sounds of the party echoed in his aching head.

hm ok ;;)

“Knock, knock!” you shouted from outside of the door. “You better be naked.” A few giggles left your lips, and if Luke had been any drunker, his entire body would have burst into flames.

“Comin’,” he mumbled as he lifted himself up gradually. His knees cracked as they bent, and it took most of his energy to not keel over into the porcelain bathtub before him.

You were grinning as he opened the door, your body immediately falling into his chest before closing the door behind you. “Comin’, huh?” you questioned, gripping tightly onto his waist. “Thinkin’ ‘bout me as you came?”

Luke peeled you off of him. His eyes were wide as he asked, “how many drinks have ya had?”

You held up four fingers, or maybe it was five. Or maybe three. Luke couldn’t tell– he didn’t care. You dragged down your pants a moment later.

“W-wh– what are you doing?”

“Goin’ pee,” you replied before sitting yourself down onto the toilet.

Luke sighed again as he turned away from you. This whole night was a terrible decision.

“What are you doin’?” you asked him. Your voice was still light and slurred, but you sounded happy. It was hard for Luke to comprehend the emotions surrounding him at the moment.

“Givin’ you privacy.”

You snorted. “Okay. Fourteen years of like, no privacy at all, and now you decide to give me privacy?”

He tried to focus on the sounds of the party as you spoke. “Mhm.”

There was a loud flush. “So, what’s up your butt t’night baby boo? Why’d ya lock yourself in here?” The sound of rushing water filled the small space, so he turned to face you once more.

Luke shrugged. He had no way of telling you about the jealousy that coursed through his veins at the sight of you pressed against another man. He had no way of communicating the fact that this jealousy ran deeper than just friendship.

“Lukey, I can read ya like a book,” you said, plopping down onto the rug he had just spent a whole hour sitting on and waiting for you to text him.

He shook his head. “Jus’, no reason,” he replied, another shrug following.

You quirked an eyebrow up at him in suspicion. You weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “You locked yourself in the bathroom when you received your first college rejection letter.”

“I promise, I’m fine.”

“You say that, but– “

“Are you having a good time?”

“What?” you asked.

Luke leaned back against the door the moment someone knocked their knuckles against it. “Occupied. I said, are you having a good time?”

“Well, yes, but– “

“Then, that’s all that fucking matters.” Luke wanted nothing more to be in bed with you at the foot as you went off about some dramatic contestant on that evening’s episode of Jeopardy. He didn’t want to be in this position with you.

You stood up, your arms folded tightly across your chest. Your eyebrows were knotted, and your lips were pulled into a frown. “What’s your deal?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled out so low he could hardly hear.

“Lu, what is your deal?”

“That fucking guy!” he shouted. “That guy who had you wrapped around his fucking finger is my deal. Okay? Happy? I’m fuckin’ jealous for some fucking reason. I wanted to punch his fuckin’ smirk off of his fuckin’ face because his fuckin’ hands were– “

“You’re jealous of a guy touching me?” you whispered.

Luke wanted to pay a random buff guy to punch him in the face so he could forget this conversation ever happened. That wouldn’t cause you to forget it, but he could at least convince you that you were going crazy.

He let out a long, shaky exhale before bringing his hands up to his temples. “I fucking guess.”

Your lips were pulled into a deep frown. It was the kind of frown that you wore whenever someone disappointed you, no matter how small the issue. If they couldn’t pick up a candy bar from the store, cue the frown.

“Can– can we go?”

Luke nodded. Both of you had accepted defeat.

“When you are in your twenties, even if you're confused and uncertain about your aims and purposes, you have a strong sense of what life itself is, and of what you in life are, and might become.”

― Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending

Luke had, once again, pulled out the old red sweater for the annual Hemmings Christmas party. However, this year, no girlfriends were attending alongside him. It was relieving to know he could catch up with you whilst surrounded by the primitive atmosphere of his immediate family. Plus, he already down one beer before the afternoon began. Despite his (very) minor intoxication, he still convinced himself he was seeing things as the sight of hanging greens and white berries tied with a bright red bow caught his eye.

“Mum, what’s this?”

Liz ambled over and grinned. “Mistletoe! Figured we’d start a new tradition.”

“Wh-what?” He would definitely need another beer within the next hour, and the party hadn’t even started. “Why?”

His mother shrugged as she continued going through her decoration checklist. Wreaths were hung, platters were stacked with all sorts of foods, and champagne flutes were delicately placed beside the many bottles of alcohol. The Hemmings family took their Christmas parties seriously. The large fir in the living room had gifts below the lowest boughs for weeks.

“Jus’ need more excuses to kiss Andy,” she replied smugly.

Luke rolled his eyes, and he almost accepted that as her final answer before she continued.

“The whole family decided that it’s about time you and Y/N get together anyway,” she said, and nonchalantly at that. She was stacking the brownies without bothering to look back to see her son’s gaped expression.

“What?”

She hummed.

“Ya can’t be serious, mum!”

“Of course ‘m serious,” she chuckled. “We swore ya’d be together by now.”

Luke sighed. The past few years had changed your relationship, both distance and different feelings combined, but he tried to ignore it as best as he could. He assumed you were doing the same. By this point, there was no way he could deny the nerves that built in his stomach at the thought of being in the same room as you. Something tugged in his heart when it came to you, and it only ever pulled him closer.

The evening came, and it only took about thirty minutes for the aunts, uncles, and cousins to get absolutely smashed. Luke, on the other hand, cradled his second beer until the glass no longer held a touch of cold. You had willingly joined a few of his cousins for a conversation on the couch, while in the dining room, his uncles were yelling political statements that had no reason to be shouted. Luke was left in the kitchen to analyze the foods.

“Okay, I get that like, marriage is a thing, but I don’t wanna talk about that with your cousins,” you said on your way into the kitchen. You had done something new with your hair, and Luke couldn’t stop thinking about how soft it looked against your dark green sweater. “Don’t eat all of the little smokies!” you wailed, crossing your arms. “Ya fuckin’ animal.”

Luke chuckled and tossed his used toothpick into the trash under the sink. Meanwhile, his eyes caught a glimpse of– “your shoes. What are those? Fuckin’ clown shoes.”

Your mouth fell open. “Meanie. I bought these on sale. ‘m sorry they’re too ugly for your Christmas party.”

“Oh, no, I’m not worried about that,” he said with a grin. “’m worried about the... the sea bear.”

You rolled your eyes and started towards the living room. “Fuck you.”

“Bet ya wish you could,” he replied, following suit.

“Literally, I never– “

“Stop right there!” Liz shouted from across the living room. A little over a dozen heads snapped in the direction of you and Luke, and their smiles only widened. For a moment, Luke couldn’t figure it out.

But then, he looked up.

“Shit,” he mumbled, eyeing the mistletoe that hung above the two of you.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes followed his gaze, and once again your mouth fell open slightly.

“If ya don’t kiss, I’ll beat you up,” threatened someone, and their statement was followed by a bunch of kiss chants that sent Luke’s blood boiling.

He wasn’t angry, nor was he upset. He was nervous. Your eyes were still locked on the dainty branches hanging just above his forehead, and Luke didn’t know what to do. Your lips, the lips that he had thought about kissing for years, were pulled into a small pout.

“We don’t have to,” he mumbled, trying his best to smile through the pain of the situation. But he knew it wasn’t a bad pain. The ache was crawling up his chest and into his throat, preventing his voice from tossing out words that didn’t need to be said.

You shrugged, neck twisting to face the family that had practically become your own after all of these years. If this had occurred years ago, would he feel your hesitance the same? “Let’s just please ‘em,” you sighed with a chuckle. “They won’t let us live it down otherwise.”

“Ya sure?”

You nodded, the small smiling growing ever so slightly as your shoulders rose and fell with grace. “No harm in it.”

Luke nodded, too. You were wrong, however, because if nothing changed after this, the harm would come to him.

“So, we just– “

He took a small step forward, touching the tip of his boots to the tip of your clown shoes. Sure, he had been this close to you hundreds of times before, if not closer, but the proximity meant nothing then. It meant nothing when he crawled on top of you to retrieve the remote. It meant nothing when you attacked him after a game of charades. It meant nothing until he finally realized it always meant something.

Luke inhaled sharply, resting his hands on your waist as you gave him another reassuring smile. He truly loved your smile. “S’okay?” he whispered while leaning in and resisting the urge to back away.

You hummed. Your hands had found their way up to his neck, and his skin burned from the touch. Even without the pads of your fingers dancing along the muscles along his throat, his skin would still burn.

He felt as though years had passed by the time you closed the distance, your bottom lip gently nestling in between his. You put an ample amount of pressure into the kiss, careful not to overstep your boundaries, but Luke’s mind took control after that. His fingers dug into your waist as he took the chance to press his lips a little harder against yours. The skin on his cheeks would melt off if either of you took this a bit further. Every nerve in his body had ignited.

And then you let go, and suddenly everything felt cool again. He didn’t like the sensation of your lips leaving his, but he did like the timid smile that stretched across your blushing cheeks. There were cheers from his parents, hoots and hollers from his uncles and aunts, but he could hardly hear a single thing. Luke needed you to know how that kiss made him feel.

“Um,” he mumbled, letting out a cough as he reached for his beer to take a quick swig. Luke glanced over at the clock on the stove before looking back to you. “Grab your coat and meet me outside.” He took off towards his bedroom a moment later.

The shaking in his hands hadn’t subsided by the time he met you outside. Your teeth were chattering, but you looked too damn adorable in your knit hat. He couldn’t believe that he had kissed you. He couldn’t believe that he had kissed you.

“W-what’s up buttercup?” you stuttered with a great big smile. Maybe you hadn’t minded the kiss at all. Nevertheless, it didn’t make the upcoming conversation any easier.

Luke kicked a chunk of snow onto the sidewalk. “Uh.” He winced, brushing his curls back before adjusting the beanie on his head. “Shit, I don’ really know where to start.” He let out a defeated laugh. His hands were already raw despite the fur-lined pockets of his coat. If only he had brought gloves.

You didn’t say anything as the two of you rounded the corner onto the next street over. The street lamps and porch lights lit the path well with the help of the snow as a reflector. Luke believed that, throughout his sixteen years of knowing you, he had shared secrets much deeper than his fondness towards you. None of them proved to be as nerve-wracking as this moment right here.

“Y’know when we were like, sixteen, and you told the girl I liked that I didn’t like her?” he asked, a hot puff of air hitting his cheeks as he exhaled rapidly. Luke gazed over at you and watched your confused expression tighten.

“I-I think so?”

“I wasn’t really that mad.” Luke wanted to reach out for your hand, similar to the times he would do it just to hold onto something.

“Oh, okay.”

“And the time Lara asked me to stop– “

You snorted. “Fucking hated that bitch.”

Luke smirked in response. “Yeah, that really pissed me off. It destroyed me. I dunno why I didn’t realize that I’d pick you over her any day. Fuck, I’d pick you over anyone.”

“Really?”

Despite the conflict arising in his brain, Luke reached out for your hand, and he was relieved when you gladly complied. “Mhm.” He blinked and breathed out a few times to hopefully steady his heart rate. “’nd when I got mad ‘bout that guy at the party a few years ago.”

“Oh, Lu, I told you I hardly remember– “

“But I do,” he said, frowning. “I was so jealous. Like, so fuckin’ jealous. Didn’t know why. Couldn’t even figure it out. And then, it clicked, and suddenly– “

“What clicked?” You stopped walking, your eyes widening, but just barely.

Luke swallowed thickly. “I jus’– I guess I– “ He sighed. “I don’t even know when I noticed but– “

“Luke,” you chuckled, tugging on his hand, “it’s just me.”

He stared at you, noticing how relaxed you seemed in his presence. You were right, it was just you. He nodded and took one more deep breath. “I’m in love with you.”

Your smile faltered, and in that moment, Luke could feel his heart fall to his feet, but the smile soon grew once again. “Y’are?” You bit your lip.

He could feel his lips twitch into a grin as well as he nodded again, his grip on your hand slackened gently. “Yeah,” he whispered.

In one swift movement, you had your arms wrapped around his neck as you pressed your cold lips to his. Noses bumped, and teeth clashed, but neither of you seemed to care as your embrace tightened. Luke could feel your smile against his chapped cheeks, and he didn’t mind one bit that your toes were on his. He hardly had enough strength to balance the two of you, but if you were to collapse into the snow bank beside the shoveled path, he wouldn’t care one bit.

“Is this– um,” Luke pulled away to look at you. “Does this mean– “

“If you don’t get too bummed over losing charades again for the ninth year in a row, I might just be in love with you, too.”

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firebirdscratches · 7 years ago

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slightly invasive gay asks I decided to do all of them :D If you’re in the alphabet soup and you wanna play along, consider yourself tagged.

1. what’s your gender? I’m a cis woman, even though I’m also intersex. (I was raised female and identify that way.)

2. what are your pronouns? She/her. I’m fine with they/them, especially from online peeps.

3. is your family accepting? Happy to say yes, they are. They could be better on some fronts, but that’s okay. They love me and they’re trying. That’s what matters.

4. what do you wish you could tell your past self? Don’t marry him.

5. what is your sexuality? I’m pan and gray ace.

6. favorite color? Blue

7. sun gay or moon gay? Hmm...that’s a toughie. I’m probably Moon gay because I’m such an insomniac...but Sagittarius is a fire/sun sign...and I am excited about summer....hrm...maybe I’m a Twilight gay. The sun is juuuuust about to set, and in the other side of the sky, where it’s darker already, you can see the moon and a few stars. <3

8. when did you find out your sexuality? LOL buddy, when I figure it out I’ll let you know. There were signs even when I was a kid, but it took me forever to find a label I liked. I was basically questioning clear through college, and then settled on bi, and then pan, and then figured out I was ace, so...in five years who knows?! Basically, by senior year of high school I had serious suspicions that I was Not Straight™ and by sophmore year of college...yeah there no room for doubt anymore. X,D

9. how was your day? OMG thank you for asking??? It was okay. I went to work....then heated up some leftovers and watched the West Wing. Nothing to write home about, but most of them are like that, when you’re an adult. “This is water,” and all.

10. do you have any gay friends? LOL yah we tend to congregate

11. what’s your favorite hobby? I sing and act and write fanfic :D

12. who’s the best gay icon in your opinion? Janelle Monae. QUEEEEEEN.

13. which pride flags do you like the most design/color wise? The original rainbow flag has to be a fan favorite, right? And I like it with or without the pink, and I especially like the recent edit to include black/brown. As far as the aesthetic goes, I like the sapphic flag. It’s sooo pretty. The butch lesbian flag too! Also I think it’s weird and hilarious and perfectly fitting that no one can agree what the Queer flag is, there’s like, twenty different versions and that’s honestly just so queer and great. XD

14. are you openly out? Unfortunately, you can still get fucking FIRED in this day and age for being queer, which is cruel and ridiculous and makes me so furious. So I am not out at work. I am out to my friends and out to my family. (And to my partners, obviously, when I have them.) Truthfully, you’re never 100% out, no one walks around screaming their sexuality constantly so every passerby is AWARE, you can’t inform the entire planet at once...you continually come out throughout your life based on the situation in which you find yourself. I do resent that I can’t be out at work...but I think I would resent unemployment even more :/ Bitch gotta eat.

15. are you comfortable with yourself? LORD no LOL. But I’m comfortable with my queerness.

16. bottom or top? Switch. But this question overly simplifies the power flow in a sexual relationship, I find? It’s fine to get a general idea, but the answer’s always more delicious and complex.

17. femme or butch? I define my aesthetic as “Lazy femme.” It says “I like looking womanly, but do not have the money, time, or skillset to constantly tic all the boxes of Femininity.™" In other words, I don’t shave my legs and I wear jeans and clunky comfortable shoes, but I also wear dresses and dye my hair pink, and some days I go whole hog and do my make up. So...Futch? :/

18. do you bind? Nope, only for a play once. And I did it with ace bandages like a moron. Stay safe kids.

19. do you shave? Nah. I have very light/scanty hair anyway. If I didn’t, I’m not sure if I would or not.

20. if you could date anyone you wanted, who would it be? Drew Barrymore and Chris Evans. Both. Happy lil’ triad. (Maybe hook up occasionally with Aidy Bryant or Chris Pratt, just for funsies.) Oh! no wait! Mark Ruffalo. I bet he’s terrific in the sack. And I love his brain and his politics. WAIT Janelle Monae? Tessa Thompson AND Gal Godot.......okay being pan is difficult. -_-;

21. do you have a partner (s)? Alas, no. :( I had a girlfriend for a bit, but it didn’t work out.

22. describe your partner (s)? Tender lesbian, black, musician...insecure, can be kind of passive aggressive. :/ I still think she’s a really cool person and we’re trying to do the friends thing.

23. have you ever dated anyone of the same sex? Yup

24. anyone of another sex? Yup

25. pastel gay or goth gay? Goth

26. favorite dad in dream daddies? I dunno, it seemed kinda fetishistic to me, but most dating sims do?...not passing judgment on folks who like it, it’s just not really my bag. I guess I like the design of the bear Dad.

27. tell me a random fact about yourself? I am blowing on my nails right now so they dry. Indigo-for-it by Essie Treat Love Color, kind of a cornflower grayish blue. (See, I’ve got some femme rattling around in there).

28. do you own any pride flags/merch? Yes! I bought them at Target last year. And I ordered some custom T-shirts for my parents and my best friend.

29. have you ever been to a pride parade? NOOOOO AND I SO WANNA GO I think this year might be the year!

30. any advice to someone who isn’t out or who is exploring themselves? It’s okay to be questioning, you don’t need to have it all figured out yet. It’s okay to be closeted, you aren’t lying to anybody and you aren’t a bad person, some things are private. When it’s time, you’ll know. Don’t let anybody rush you, either to pick a label or to come out. Also? If you wanna say you’re [label] then go for it, there’s no registration fee, if you feel like that you are like that. And you can always change your mind later. People who say differently are called “gatekeepers” and are to be avoided. The gay experience, like all of life, is messy and complex and way too weird and wonderful to be overly simplified. You are you. Just listen to your heart, listen to your body, and trust what it’s telling you.

#pride #gay pride #pansexual #asexual #gray ace #questions #questioning #closeted #coming out #sapphic #quiz thingie #play along if you want to!

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angelfacehobi · 7 years ago

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New Rules | 1

You see Yoongi outside of Wonderland.

pairing: yoongi x reader genre: (eventual) smut, angst word count: 4.9K  playlist (this fic was inspired by Make that Money Girl - Zara Larsson)

Summary: You have been working as a stripper at Wonderland for a year now - and you loved it.  One thing you didn’t not love was the customers, except one.  Yoongi. He would come every Friday night for a private dance and unlike the other patrons, barely said a word, respected your no touching rule and always left a big tip.  Until one night… when you saw him outside of Wonderland.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Your mental commentary was always limited when attempting to run in stilettos. You were late for work. Again.  Your piece of crap car had croaked it 10 minutes away from the club and already being late, you had no other choice but to get out and go the rest of the way on foot.  Ouch. Ouch. Ouch… the one thing keeping you sane was the knowledge that you only needed to work a few more shifts before you had finally saved enough to buy yourself a new car.  That was one of the appeals of working at Wonderland. It was a high end strip club with plenty of rich patrons waiting to throw money at you. You started there one year ago and hadn’t looked back since. Before Wonderland you had been busting your ass, working two jobs and still barely making enough to pay rent. After weeks of working over time for both jobs, barely getting any sleep and still ending up with a warning over late rent and the threat of eviction looming over you, you just said fuck this.

You quit both of your jobs and moved in with your friend Jimin, who you’d known since childhood. Jimin had been working as a bartender at Wonderland since graduating college… when he told you there was an opening amongst the dancers you didn’t think twice before auditioning.

And it was the best decision you had ever made.  Since then you had made enough money to move out of Jimin’s apartment, to a place of your own, and were on the cusp of owning a brand new car… something you never could have afforded in your old jobs; along with making rent, buying food and paying bills. The club was run by a woman named Yvette. She was ruthless and a complete workaholic with tunnel vision but she put the girls first. Making sure that they were comfortable and never made to feel otherwise. You loved her… but she scared the shit out of you.

 The club was renowned for the private dances, which came at $500 for a single dance - not including tips given to the girls after the dance, where patrons wishes & desires would be catered to, within reason.  You couldn’t count the number of times you’d been asked to address a patron as “Sir” or “Master”. That was the part of the job you didn’t love so much. You loved to dance, to perform… but the private dances where another story. When first starting you had been so relieved to hear about Yvette’s touching policy. She let the girls choose, some girls found the letting the patrons touch them resulted in bigger tips or a bigger chance of them returning for another private dance.  You on the other hand stuck to the ‘no touching’ policy as the idea of strange men running their hands all over you didn’t bear thinking about, in your opinion. You didn’t mind touching them, as you had done many times…as long as they weren’t the ones doing the touching. You didn’t want any of them to believe they were in control. 

There was one private dance customer, however, who you liked…he came in every Friday for a dance, asking specifically for you.  Yoongi. His name was all you knew about him; but Friday came around and you always found yourself wanting to know more.

Just as you thought your feet were going to give out you finally saw the neon purple glow, something which was distinctly ‘Wonderland’. The whole club was lit up in it, Yvette said there was just something magical about the colour purple and since the club was supposed to make you feel as though you were entering the rabbit’s hole… it fit.  You didn’t bother to go through the backdoor, being in too much of a rush and the doorman let you right in - acknowledging you with nothing more than a nod and a gruff ‘Hey’.

 As you enter you can hear the music blaring, Side to Side by Ariana Grande just starting. That meant it was Rose’s dance. You were up very soon after. Shit. Walking past the bar you see Jimin looking extremely relieved and waving you over.  “Y/N! You better hurry, Yvette’s on the war path looking for you! This is the third time this week” . You rolled your eyes and smiled. “Then you better stop wasting my time trying to chat to me” you reply as you walk away, waving him off.

As you turn the corner, rushing to the dressing room, you slam into someone and fall to the floor, heels losing ground.  Shit.  Wincing you barely open your eyes and look up to see who the culprit was. And of course, it’s none other than Yvette staring back at you, tapping her right foot with her hands on her hips. “Y/N-”  “I know Yvette!” You interrupt and hold your hands up in surrender “I had car troubles, it won’t happen again! I promise! I’ll carpool until I-”. You were stumbling over your words… like you said, you were scared shitless of Yvette. She raised one hand to stop you mid-rant.  “You’ll have to find someone to cover your performance, quickly” Your heart fell… you knew you had been pushing your luck being late so many times but you thought Yvette would understand.  Seeing your face fall Yvette burst out in laughter.  “I’m not firing you Y/N. Your Friday is here early today. He’s waiting in room number 2.” .

You breathed a sigh of relief at hearing you wouldn’t be losing your job but just as quickly your heart caught in your throat. Friday was a name everyone had taken to calling Yoongi, since coming here 6 months ago he had never missed a Friday. And it was always you he came to see. But he never came early… always at exactly 11:30PM. Why would he be here 2 hours early?  You pushed your questions out of your mind, you needed to get ready - quickly.  Throwing Yvette a quick smile you rushed passed her and headed straight to your station to get ready.

Yoongi liked you in red. He had never said anything but you could tell. The first time you had entered the room wearing red his fists clenched around the armrests of the chair and his jaw locked. At first you wondered if it had been the opposite, if he had hated it but the large increase in the tip he left you and the visible straining of his dick against his slacks at the end of the session proved otherwise. Since then he had stipulated to Yvette that you wear red only when asked and he had only done so twice.

So what, in that moment, spurred you into wearing it tonight - in direct defiance of a clients wishes, you didn’t know. You were still entirely fixated on Yoongi’s un-Yoongi-like behaviour to reason with your impulses. As quickly as possible - which, was not all that quick, you put on the lace bra and panty set along with black garter belts which held up the red stockings. This was a new set and you had been hoping Yoongi would make the request and give you a chance to wear it. The bra laced in the front with black ribbon which you tied neatly & carefully into a bow, not easy as you were completely buzzing with anticipation.

Slipping on some black peep toe stilettos & a short black silk robe you looked around the dressing room for someone, anyone to cover your performance. Spotting Lisa a few stations down you made your way to her.  “Lisa!” You tried to make your tone as sweet as possible, she had covered a performance of yours just a couple days ago when you were late for your shift. Deadpan she turned to look at you.  “Y/N, what can I do for you now?” Grimacing you looked to her apologetically.  “Mr Friday is here, early. I reeaaally need you to cover my shift” you put your hands together, pleading, but seeing her reluctance you decided to up the ante. “If you do I’ll give you Jimin’s number?” .

Lisa immediately perked up, all the girls had a thing for Jimin and as his best friend it was your job to act as a barrier for him… you could let one slip through though, right? You’d make it up to Jimin somehow.  Lisa nodded, “Deal! But I want his number now, so I know I’m not being played”.  You rolled your eyes and sighed impatiently, hearing Rosé’s second performance coming to a close. Quickly you scribbled down Jimin’s number, kissed Lisa on the cheek and muttered a quick ‘thank you’ before heading over to the private rooms.

Approaching the stairs leading to the private rooms you saw Jungkook. Jungkook was essentially the gatekeeper to the rooms and, if needed, a body guard for the girls should something go wrong.  Luckily you had never needed to call him in for help, yet.  “Y/N, your boy looks stressed out, so just be careful okay?” He spoke seriously.  You scoffed, even after seeing him every week for 6 months straight, you had never seen Yoongi lose his composure. “Firstly, he’s not my boy. Secondly, he wouldn’t try anything. He’s my favourite client for a reason”  “Yeah, it has nothing to do with the fact he tips well and is a total smoke show” Jungkook snarked in reply.  “Smoke show? Oh Kookie, do you want to take this dance for me? Sounds like you may have more fun?” You quirked an eyebrow.  “Oh har har.” He rolled his eyes “Get out of here Y/N, don’t keep him waiting any longer. Go make that money” “I always do” you reply, walking away while firing finger guns and pretending to holster them.  Kookie tries to stifle a smile threatening to break his stone cold exterior, shaking his head at your cringe worthy behaviour. You always liked to see how much it would take for him to completely crack up.  Unfortunately for you he took his job very seriously and you have yet to succeed.  “Y/N, stop it, do you want Yvette to fire me?” He tries to sound solemn but you can see the smile in his eyes. He shouts after you as you walk away  “Are we still on for drinks tomorrow with Jimin?”  “Of course!” You call back.

As you enter private room 2 the purple glow of Wonderland shifts to blue and as you close the door behind you the music pumping in the club faded to the distance. Turning around, away from the door, you see him sitting & waiting for you. But it was different tonight. Usually, Yoongi was flawless - not a hair out of place. But now you see his black hair - completely dishevelled, as if he’d been running his hands through it relentlessly. His tie was loose around his neck and his shirt creased. Then you saw his face, deadpan & beautiful as ever but…he looked tired. Exhausted.

For some reason your heart ached for him. Jungkook was right. Yoongi looked stressed… you’d never seen him like this before and, being taken aback, you hesitated at the door.  “Are you going to dance for me, or what?” Yoongi’s voice was gruff and harsh. Your eyes widened slightly at hearing him speak, he only ever said three words to you each session: ‘until next week’. His deep voice, rough & demanding awakened something in you. A deep throbbing in your core. You swallowed a lump that had built up in your throat.  Get a grip! You thought to yourself, turning on the music you had chosen for tonight’s dance; TIO by ZAYN.

You began to slowly walk towards him, watching his eyes drinking you in as your hips swayed to the music. “Of course I am” you purred.  As you reached him, you turned your back to him and slowly lowered yourself into his lap. What are you doing? Your inner voice was reprimanding you big time. Its not like you had never touched Yoongi before but you’d never dared touch him to this extent. You’d never touched any client like this… the risk of them touching you, spurred on by your actions with their often warped sense of entitlement, was too high.  But the feeling of Yoongi’s thigh muscles tighten and the unmistakable stiffening of his crotch was enough for you to ignore your inner voice’s warning about your rules.

You turn your head over your shoulder and see him biting his lip, eyes raking over your body.  Time for the reveal . Undoing the robe in the front you slipped it off your shoulders, slowly and delicately before letting it fall into his lap - revealing your red lace ensemble. Yoongi’s eyes glazed over, lust replacing the exhaustion that had clearly been plaguing him, you see him lift a hand - moving to touch you, but quickly realising his mistake he withdrew it as you immediately and unthinkingly, lifted yourself from his lap. With any other patron you would have said something, a warning that if they tried it again the dance would be over… but you found yourself wishing he had touched you. You found yourself wishing you hadn’t stood up, instead stayed seated - your ass pressed against his crotch.  You could feel the wetness permeating between your thighs, just thinking about his strong hands guiding your hips against him.  What was this? You’d never had this kind of reaction to any client in the past. Just him. You needed to get a handle on these feelings… they were dangerous. As you turned to face him you almost forgot that you were supposed to be entertaining him, finding it all too easy to get lost in his presence.

Shaking your head you banished any and all thoughts surrounding the idea of Yoongi touching you…closing your eyes you let the beat of the music take over you. You liked performing… and, more so, you loved performing for Yoongi.

You placed your hands on your hips and began to sway them slowly, turning in a circle as you moved your hands up, caressing your body as you did. As you turned back to face Yoongi, you reached your hands behind your head and grasped the pole behind you before arching your back and sinking down to your knees. You were practically between Yoongi’s legs at this point and you couldn’t take your eyes off of his clear arousal.  You bit down on your bottom lip and placed your hands on Yoongi’s knees, spreading them and getting closer to him.  Reaching for the ribbon in the front of the bra you slowly, torturously, pulled at the ends until the bra came apart completely - letting your breasts fall as you tossed the bra aside. You turned before standing up, Yoongi getting an eyeful of your ass as you stood facing away from him.  Hooking your fingers into the sides of your panties, you turned to look at him over your shoulder again before guiding them down your legs. As you gracefully stepped out of them you noticed the dark red patch where your wetness had seeped down and your eyes widened in panicked realisation as you prayed Yoongi hadn’t noticed your obvious arousal too.

Left in nothing but your garter belts, stockings and stilettos you went back to the pole, to continue your dance. Wrapping your legs high around the pole you let your head fall back, hair brushing the floor and hands caressing your torso - your legs the sole support in holding you up.  You took this moment to drink in Yoongi. His hands were gripping the chair - painfully, and it was clear his jaw was clenched as you could see the obvious vein on his forehead. Whenever you looked at Yoongi you felt entranced and so it was lucky you registered the end of the song approaching.

Bracing your hands on the floor next to your head you extended your right leg away from the pole, holding it for a moment before lifting the other in the same direction and standing back up as the song came to an end.

As always, you headed to the back of the room to collect the white robe that was waiting for you while Yoongi collected his tip from his wallet. However, unlike usual you noticed his hesitation to finish up quickly, as was standard with him once a dance was over. The moment of hesitation was short lived, though, as he passed you a very substantial tip and cleared his throat.  “Don’t think I didn’t notice you wore red without instruction Y/N” Yoongi’s eyes were playful but his tone was such that you couldn’t help but imagine being punished by him… you wouldn’t admit to yourself how wet that thought got you. “It won’t happen again… I just thought you might appreciate it tonight” “I did… thank you and as always… until next week” he nodded politely before leaving.

You sighed. Yoongi was a client. A rich client who tipped well. That was all he was. That was all he could be.

Get a grip Y/N!!!

SLAM.  The shot glass hits the table as you throw your head back and swallow - wincing as the alcohol burns your throat. Cheers erupted from Jungkook and Jimin as they followed you, downing their own shots. Yesterday’s dance for Yoongi had been shoved to the darkest corner of your mind and you refused to think about him.  “Are you sure you want to do this?” You offer surrender for the third time tonight. They had, once again, proposed a bet on who would be the last standing by the end of the night. This happened at least once a month - enough time for them to forget how badly you beat them. By your count it usually took around 5 shots for them to bow out… or for you to have to call them a cab. Jimin scoffed “Of course we want to do this. I’m going to drink both of you under the table tonight” he countered before collecting another round from the shot girl.  “Whatever you say Jiminie… are you forgetting what happened last time?”  Jimin flushed red at the memory. He had been so far gone that he decided it would be a good time to prove his stripping skills far outweighed yours. Jimin had mounted a table and began to dance… removing all his clothes before getting kicked out. He hadn’t lived it down since.  “Thats in the past!! And if I win my prize is that neither of you can bring it up ever again” Jungkook shook his head “It’s what you deserve for getting us banned from our favourite bar”.  You nodded in agreement & Jimin rolled his eyes before picking up the shot in front of him, gesturing for the two of you to do the same. 

SLAM. 

Three shots later you were surprised that they were both still standing. “Y/N come on!! Let’s dance!” Jimin pulled at your hand. Jungkook hadn’t bothered waiting for you as you spotted him grinding against some blonde in the corner. You rolled your eyes, this was the norm for your nights out and you knew Jimin would soon abandon you to dance with some nameless person too. You couldn’t blame him for it, you surely weren’t going to sleep with him at the end of the night.  “Jimin… I dance for a living, its definitely the last thing I want to do right now. Go on without me, I’ll be fine!” You insisted, slapping his chest playfully.  Jimin says, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You sure?”.  You rolled your eyes. “Yes!! Yes!! Now go, have fun!!!”. “Fine, fine!…Oh and by the way, Y/N…. Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for giving my number to Lisa!” Jimin smiled teasingly before making a beeline towards Jungkook before taking it upon himself to occupy the blondes friend.

SLAM.  You downed another shot before grabbing your purse & heading to the bar. As you walked you noticed your legs were wobbly and you had that distant feeling of the room starting to spin pervading your consciousness. But not before you saw him. Yoongi.

He was sitting at the other end of the bar, legs spread wide, leaning his back against the bar with a whiskey in his hands. And before you had time to think about what you were doing you found yourself walking towards him, getting closer and closer before coming to a stop directly in front of him.

“Yoongi!” You spoke cheerfully, surprising yourself. Whenever you spoke to clients your voice dropped a couple of octaves and your tone was always teasing and sultry. But then again you had never been confronted with speaking to a client outside of Wonderland until right now.  What were you thinking coming over here?!

 Recognising you instantly you saw his eyebrows rise, in surprise, his mouth opening and closing several times - clearly taken aback and at a loss for words (another thing you were not used to seeing from your mysterious Friday client). Yoongi stammered as he tried to regain his composure “Y/N? Uhh- So- What are you doing here?”.  “At a bar? Or with you?” You raised an eyebrow as a teasing smile spread across your face, before now you would never have imagined Yoongi to ever get flustered… but now that you were seeing it for yourself you couldn’t help but try and mess with him more. “Don’t worry Yoongi, I just thought I would come and say ‘Hi’” you smiled, genuinely.  “Hi” he replied, lamely.  “Relax” you said, placing a hand on his arm “I won’t bite… unless you ask me to”.  This blatantly flirtatious remark broke Yoongi out of his incoherent stupor as he scoffed and quirked an eyebrow.  “I’m sure I would be the one doing the biting… if you asked”.

Inner you was buzzing with excitement… was he flirting?.  Outside, however, you struggled to keep her composure as you debated the likelihood of a positive response if you jumped his bones right now in the middle of this club.  You removed your hand from his bicep just as the bartender approached, asking what you wanted.  “Gin and lemonade, please?”.  You heard Yoongi stifle a chuckle beside you, turning to him with a questioning look on your face you asked “problem?”.  Yoongi smiled and shook his head. “No… its just, you’re so predictable”.  “Did you predict my coming over here?” You countered.  He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side before offering a “touché” as he lifted his glass of whiskey towards you, stifling a laugh.

You smiled brightly, in return.

The rest of your night was spent completely caught up in him.  Conversation flowed easily - something which you often struggled with. You hated small talk and the constant grasping for new topics but it wasn’t like that with Yoongi.  It was like you had known each other for your whole lives and you were catching up like old friends. You were so enthralled in him that you hadn’t noticed the wary glances & pointed stares you had been receiving from Jimin & Jungkook on the dance floor as the two of you moved to sit in a booth. 

You learned more about him then you ever thought you would. That he was a founder and producer of HYMN Entertainment, a company you were somewhat familiar with as they were dominating the music industry right now - managing some of the most successful groups in the world. You learned how he and his friends Hoseok, Minho and Namjoon had dreamed of starting the business since they met in college. You laughed as he regaled stories of their college days, pulling pranks & constantly trying to embarrass each other in front of girls, professors, parents… anyone they could. You sympathised as he told you how the business wasn’t everything he thought it would have been and how he’d lost any enthusiasm he had had for it.

Yoongi asked you a million and one questions about your life too… about your childhood, your friends…even trivial things like your favourite foods and colours. It didn’t go unnoticed, however, that he completely steered away from asking questions about your job. This didn’t bother you, in fact it made a nice change as you were used to peoples initial questions to you being along the lines of “how did that happen?” Or “what do you actually want to be doing?”.

The sound of the bell being rung behind the bar - signalling last orders, brought you out of your Yoongi induced daze and you heard a small laugh coming from the black haired man beside you as he checked his watch and looked at you somewhat sheepishly.  “Time really got away from me there, I’m sorry for stealing you away from your friends all night…”  “No, no… I had a really great time…” you replied, shaking your head way too much and for way too long… your thoughts were jumbled and it was hard to make sense of anything…especially with the alcohol you’d been imbibing all night taking its toll on you. “Me too”  “I should… go find my friends”  “Of course, I’ll see you soon… Y/N” . You smiled wide “Friday right?”.  If it weren’t for the alcohol distorting your judgement you would have been sure you saw him blush.  “Friday” he agreed.

Although your exchange had reached its natural end, neither of you made a move to leave your secluded booth. Instead you continued to look at each other, sporting knowing half smiles and completely helpless to look away.  Before you knew it, Yoongis hand was cupping your jaw, fingers lightly pressed behind your ear.  You swallowed, teeth latching onto your bottom lip - a nervous habit you had picked up from your father.  Yoongis eyes darted down to your mouth and he leaned in, muttering something to himself but the music blaring into your ears made it indecipherable. And then…

Silence.  You could no longer hear the music in the bar. Your eyes shut, no longer aware of where you were.  All you could focus on was his lips, on yours.  Yoongis hand, still caressing your face, became more dominant as he tilted your mouth towards his and gripped your hair. He was in complete control.  His other hand came up to your waist and it felt just as you’d imagined. Strong and demanding.  You felt him pull away momentarily, as you woke from your kiss-induced stupor, before you buried your hands into his hair and desperately pulled him back towards you.

You weren’t sure what had come over you… nor did you know how long you stayed in that booth, with him. It felt like an eternity but all too soon you came to your sense.  This couldn’t happen. Yoongi was your client. If you let this go on any further you would never be able to face him again

Reluctantly, you pulled away and scooted away from him. Unable to look him in the eyes you focused on fiddling with the hem of your dress.  Yoongi reached for you and pushed your hair over your shoulder.  “Do you want to get out of here?”   Your eyes widened and jaw clenched, although the attraction between the two of you had been undeniable and inexplicable you would never have expected him to want to take it that far…  “I’m sorry… this shouldn’t have happened” you gestured between the two of you and found yourself, yet again, shaking your head too much and too long. “What?” The confusion in his voice was palpable and reinforced your commitment to not looking him in the eyes.  “I’m sorry Yoongi. This was incredibly unprofessional of me…I…” you hesitated, unsure of where you could go from there… how were you going to recover from this? “Goodbye Yoongi”.

And with that you left, grabbing your purse and jacket you hurriedly made a bee line to the bar where you had noticed Jungkook & Jimin waiting to get their last orders.  “Guys, lets go.” Your voice was rushed and panicked… something you were sure reflected in your appearance. Jimins jovial smile quickly dropped when he saw you.  “Y/N! What happened? Are you okay?” He asked.  “Yeah, I just don’t feel so hot. Please, lets go?”. Nodding he accepted your answer but you could tell he didn’t quite believe you. Jimin looked to Jungkook who, in turn, was reluctantly looking at the blonde he had been dancing with and you felt guilty. Just because you had made such a monumental blunder doesn’t mean you should be ruining their night.  “Actually, never mind guys… I can get back on my own!”.  Jimin shook his head “No Y/N, I’ll come with you. Jungkook, you can stay here if you want”.  “Ahhh Jiminie! Don’t be silly. I can handle getting a cab alone” “Nah, tonights been kind of a bust for me anyway. Want to come over and watch bad movies?” You knew he was lying about tonight being ‘a bust’… never in your life had you seen Jimin struggle to find someone to sleep with. But he knew you better then anyone and knew he needed to make you feel better. You breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to Jimin for offering you the perfect distraction from your thoughts about tonight… and about Yoongi.

And so, nodding, you let Jimin take you home. Not exactly the outcome you would have preferred but you knew you’d made the right decision… you couldn’t have let the Yoongi situation to go any further… it would have been breaking one of your most important rules.

Don’t sleep with a client.

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