#it’s the fact that she was already hesitant and a little detached from their practices

[thanks--for--listening]

Can’t stop thinking about the thematic significance of Shuri starting the movie by praying

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Chris lying on top of someone getting cuddles plz Ash I beg of you

Follows on Time Apart, It Doesn’t Work As Well As You’d Hoped, and Learn to Fly

Their heartbeat is slow and steady underneath his ear, and his eyes close, letting himself dwell in the sound. His fingers twist in their shirt, relax, twist and relax, rubbing his thumbs over the seams of their binder underneath.

They hum, softly, a tuneless sound very nearly like his own, and that’s like drifting in a warm sea, floating on saltwater and feeling the sun on his skin. Their fingers gently move through his hair, blunt bitten nails not quite scratching his scalp, just rubbing with their fingertips.

The coffeeshop is quiet around them, emptied-out except for the two baristas who speak in low voices under the whirring of the espresso machine, handing drinks out the drive-thru window, bags of cookies and cannoli, a scone or three. They don’t ask if Chris and Laken need anything more.

They know that the need, as it stands now, isn’t for the coffee that’s gone cold in both their cups. It's for the space to have their quiet together, after time apart.

The rain pours, outside, a soft and subtle rush, like blood pulsing through the veins of the world. Blood goes into and out of the human heart, water goes up to the atmosphere and then back to earth. It’s the same.

The earth breathes.

So does Laken.

Chris, like a bird with wings open to the wind to rise, listens to it.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Laken murmurs, without pausing in the soft rhythm of their fingers. “Or of what happened to you, or of what it means for us. My future is with you, that hasn’t changed. I’ve never been afraid of you, Chris. Afraid for you a couple of times, sure, but never of you.”

“I’ll freeze up,” Chris says back, voice low. The music that plays over the speakers switches in a wild, odd swing between the sort of instrumental jazz Chris is used to and the occasional bouncy 80’s pop song. He wonders, in a detached way, which of the baristas has their iPod plugged in to the speakers. “Every, um. Every time. I can’t-... I can’t, can’t stop it right away. Ever.”

“I know,” Laken says. They’re on their back on the back, shoulders propped against the arm of the couch, head tipped back a little towards the ceiling. Chris lays on top of them, his own feet up on the couch’s arm at the other side, the soles of his worn-out slip-on shoes pointing up. His fingers run over the thick, smooth binder fabric under their t-shirt, back and forth, back and forth. His fingers skim along the edge where the black of the binder meets the skin over their lower ribs.

He mirrors the movement of their hand through his hair without realizing it.

“You, you, you shouldn’t-... someone who, um, who can’t... I'm, I'm fucked up, Laken."

“No one gets out of this life without some dings, baby,” Laken says, and their hand slips down, cups his jaw and gently encourages him to look up as they look down to meet his eyes. Theirs, always, are pools so deep and dark he can’t tell iris from pupil. Some of the long part of their hair falls forward, framing their face. “Nobody. Yours are a little rougher than some others, but I’ve got mine, too, you know? I love you, dings and all. We're fucked up but we're fucked up together."

“You don’t freeze.”

“No. I throw punches. And trust me, it’s not always the right response. Even if it feels good in the moment.”

“I, I, I wish I could fight.”

“You did.” Laken sighs, a low soft exhale, and he listens to the sound it within them as well as without. “You pushed her away. You said so yourself. You pushed her away and said no.”

“Not, not right away.”

“God, Chris. You’re even braver for fighting when your body is screaming at you not to. It’s not thoughtless, for you, like it is for me sometimes. You have to push past years of hurt in a couple of seconds. That’s big.”

“It, it, it feels… small.”

“Well, it’s not.” The firm matter-of-factness of their tone makes him smile, secretly, turning his head briefly so the expression is made against their sternum, the warmth of their skin that settles under his own.

“I’m going to to to to, um, to make, it, it harder on you,” He says, looking back up at them. He doesn’t like to look right into people’s eyes, never has, but it’s not so bad with them. Sometimes. And he knows they’ll let him look away when it’s too much. “You know? You, you should… you should maybe find someone else.”

“I should be there for the man I love,” Laken says, voice getting a little softer. There’s a clatter of metal steam-cups over by the counter, the baristas rinsing everything out during this slow time, when the nearly-overwhelming rain means no one is getting out of their car right now.

The two old men - Mr. Malley and Mr. Cilly - have gone back to their homes. It’s nearly lunchtime, and Chris’s stomach feels a little hollowed. He’ll get a scone in a little while, maybe. If he remembers.

“But... everyone who loves me dies, gets hurt, gets gets gets lost,” Chris whispers, feeling a sharp twist inside him. A grief and pain that was wiped away, pushed down by drugs but never fully destroyed. It rises in a wave to break against him, as if they have only just died, the two of them. His mother’s eyes fading as she told him it would be okay, in the end. His father had already been gone.

“That’s a goddamn lie,” Laken says, and there’s an insistence even in their half-whisper. “Jake’s still here. Nat’s still here. Antoni’s still here, Kauri’s still here. I’m still here. Hell, those weird old dudes seem to care about you and they’re still here, aren’t they?”

“But, but, but when I, when I tell everyone-”

“I’ll be right fucking there. Wherever you want me.”

“Everyone will know what I am.” They’re silent, but he can feel their correction behind their lips, barely held back, and he smiles, just a little. “Okay, okay. What I, um, what, what I had to do.”

“If that’s what you want to do, I support you. And I’m not turning away just because you’re doing something amazing, even if it’s dangerous.” They run a finger along his jaw, and their smile is bright, their teeth just slightly crooked in a way Chris loves. “I told you. My future is with you, and that’s a choice I made like a month after you said that you loved me the first time. I knew it was me and you, Chris. Whatever stands in our way, we’ll get through it.”

Chris blinks at them, thinking, and then his own smile widens. It’s still a little trembling, a little hesitant… but stronger. “Blow, um. Blow it apart and go through the wreckage.”

“What?” Laken blinks back at him.

He shakes his head, smiling and laying his ear back down over their heart, looking out the window at the driving rain. It’s made puddles in the parking lot, and he sees a bright white and red polka-dot umbrella as someone makes a mad dash for their car from the bookstore a few doors down.

“My mom,” He says, softly. “My, um. Mr. Malley said… my mom would, um, would would do that. If she couldn’t get over something, or around it, she’d… she’d she’d she’d go through it. Knock it it it it it down or, or, or, um, blow it up."

“Then let’s make like your mom,” Laken says, softly. “And blow WRU to bits and walk right through whatever’s left of their bullshit and build our life there. Take their wreckage and make a statue out of it. Or a hammer. Which we will then bash them with."

He laughs, against them, and they laugh, too.

He's missed the sound of their laughter so much.

When their hand moves down, he grabs onto it. Their fingers are warm, as always. Warm and dry, the perfect counterpoint to the weather. They press a kiss to his hair and he lets his eyes close, enjoying the feeling.

“Do, um. Do do do do you want to meet her?”

“Who?”

“My mom. And, um, I guess, I guess my dad, too. I I I I know where they are, now. Where they’re… they’re buried.”

Laken inhales sharply. “Since when?”

“Akio, um, told me. Do, do you want to… meet them?”

“Sure.” Laken hesitates, then adds in a kind of nervous feigned humor, “What if your mom doesn’t like me?”

Chris thinks of the woman in his mind, still fuzzy around the edges and with a voice he can only remember when he isn’t thinking too much about it. Dark hair and a bright laugh, holding him tightly when he needed it and letting him run when he needed that instead. The woman who went to every single practice and meet, who had been so excited for him to qualify for the national elite team alongside Akio. He can almost see her clearly, if he keeps his eyes closed and forces his way around the headache that still tries to push her back into the light.

“I think,” He murmurs, “She, she, she, she would have liked you. A lot. And and and and probably been mad it took me so, um, so so so long to bring you by."

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

[hobidreams]

march 1867.

she is beautiful in ways you could never be.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama, angst words: 1.3k contains: longing.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 18. start from the beginning?

Her name is Beom-su.

Her carriage arrives just as the sun reaches its highest peak in the sky, two measly days after Yoongi becomes king. The sole, precious daughter of the Minister of Taxation, as you will learn that evening from Jin-young over a dinner that is tasteless on your tongue. And because fate seems to have it out for you, you are witness to Beom-su’s welcoming procession. Castle ladies and eunuchs alike bow to her as she is helped out of her opulent gama by the servants that carried her all the way here. You hate the twisting in your stomach when you realize for the first time that she is beautiful, and then you can’t seem to stop.

She is beautiful in the corridors, practically gliding down them in her elaborate skirt with steps kept delicate and elegant, befitting her high status.

She is beautiful when she smiles at you whenever you happen to pass by each other, acknowledging you with a polite “su-uinyeo-nim” that makes you feel ugly and small when you can only muster a meager, fake grin in return.

But she is perhaps the most beautiful on certain afternoons when, with her makeup carefully done and perfect, she is escorted to the royal tea room to meet the king, her betrothed for a proper, private break. There is always an entire throng of excited maids who accompany her there, chatting merrily about the prepared menu and tea selection of the day. You are horribly aware that it is a far cry from the brief pockets of time you stole with the prince before he became too far for even your greedy reach.

You haven’t seen the king since his coronation. That is to be expected, of course. It’s not like you had much time with him before the ceremony either; the frenzy following his father’s death in early January had swept Yoongi up in its wake. A royal death so soon after the French invasion threatened to create mass panic among the people, and a strong leadership had to be presented to quell the fears. Thankfully, Queen Jeonghui was able to help with that front, standing strong beside her son with her ever-steady smile, giving him advice on the decisions now left up to him. And with news of the royal marriage to take place mid-May, things have settled even more, which perhaps had been the late king’s intentions when he arranged the match.

Wonderful. Just… wonderful.

You miss him.

You have no right to miss him, especially now since he is promised to another in a match that will do so much for the country, but you do.

You don’t want to admit how many times you’ve gone to the private library at your usual time and found it locked, empty. The hidden key hasn’t been moved from its hiding spot though, meaning you are still the sole other person to have free access to this space, whenever you please. You take that fact and all the hope it swirls up in you, and hold it somewhere near your heart. (He just hasn’t had the time to move it yet, says some irritating part of your mind that won’t shut up, especially at night when you’re trying to sleep.) The most pathetic thing is that even though you can, you haven’t mustered the courage to actually step inside the library in a long time, afraid the loneliness might really overwhelm you if you do. Afraid you won’t read and absorb a single word, and instead just wait for him to push open the door even though you know better. Or at least you should know better.

(You think he might even be purposefully avoiding you, which is the only conclusion you can extrapolate from the three separate times he meets your eyes by chance on the palace grounds only to snatch his gaze away and take the longer way around.)

But today, you have decided you are stronger than this. Today, you manage to enter the sunlit room and leave without much hesitation with The Myth of Flowers hugged close to your chest. The well-worn book’s weight is familiar and comforting, and you already foresee a late night poring over the words you have half memorized, perhaps with some yakgwa cookies and a cup of hot tea. The thought pulls a small smile on your face. After all, you cannot spend your entire life pining after a man who has never been, and could never have been, yours. It’s time you take care of yourself, even if that is more easily thought than done. Even if you are already feeling the absence of the bracelet you hesitantly left behind today, tucked inside a drawer with mother’s gifts of hairpins.

Caught in these thoughts, you should have been paying more attention to reality.

“Oh!”

A flash of scarlet robes. Too close, you leap back and your eyes swing up to see who you almost just bumped into so you can apologize and—

The king.

Your king.

Yoongi.

These last thoughts, you banish from your head as soon as they come.

“Jeonha!” You voice is surprised, but automatically too warm and too fond. Thinking back on it later, you will smack your forehead and sorely regret how palpable your delight at seeing him was. “I am very sorry. I almost hurt you.”

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, his hand slipping up to the back of his neck briefly before he lets it drop to his side. “It is of no consequence. Nothing happened.” He sounds formal, so detached it makes a discomfort rear its head in your stomach.

“Su-uinyeo-nim. Good afternoon,” comes a voice from beside him, and you realize that he is not alone. Beom-su smiles at you, her hands gathered politely in front of her skirt. You see that Eunuch Kim trails behind them too, though a little way off as is his habit.

“Good afternoon.” You force yourself to bow, and not quiver all the way through. “Please enjoy your walk.” You have to leave here. “Please excuse me.” You cannot let yourself be trapped in this conversation when nothing good can come of it.

You’ve taken maybe five steps past them when the king says something that sounds a lot like the first syllable of your name before he cuts himself off. “Su-uinyeo-nim,” he says instead, and you grit your teeth before slowly turning around.

“Yes, jeonha?”

Be strong. Be strong.

Wordlessly, his stare holds yours and you think that you can see something in his eyes so reminiscent of that day he came to you in the infirmary, confused and heavy with a loss he had yet to admit. The day he let a few more walls crumble down, only to rebuild them all mere days after.

“… Never mind. Good day.”

You swallow disappointment and nod, bowing deeply so that he can’t see your face as you hear him turn. Still, despite yourself, damned by your curiosity or maybe just stupidity, you can’t help but see them off when you come back upright. They walk side by side, pace matched down the length of the garden, soon to disappear among the lush trees.

The worst thing is, you know too well the expression on Beom-su’s face as she looks at him. It’s the one you’re certain you’ve mirrored for so many years, right down to the nervous smile and the subtle tucking of hair behind your ear because you want to look perfect for the man you’ve fallen for.

She does lovestruck better than you.

She has the privilege to give him those soft, longing glances. You can only stare at his back as he walks further and further away.

[marjansmarwani]

there ain’t a language for the things I feel

4.8k || ao3

In the wake of a tragedy, the firehouse family tries to move on and pick up the pieces while holding onto hope that seems to slip further and further away.

But nothing's over until it's over and they're going to pick up all the pieces and put them back together, just in case. ----- Day 9 of @911lonestarangstweek: Free Choice

Me getting this done and up just at the end of angst week? More likely than you’d think.

Several people read parts of this as I was working, but @moviegeek03 needs a special thanks for helping me with some of the specifics 💜

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

The house at the end of the street looked like all the others. 

Its blue siding blended in perfectly with its companions on the quiet residential street and as Judd pulled into the familiar driveway, nothing looked amiss. From the outside, it looked like nothing had happened. From where they stood, everything was fine and this was just a normal day and an average visit. Right now they could be heading to game night or dinner. They could be stopping by to say hello, popping by unannounced as they so often did. But the minute they opened the door that illusion would shatter and they’d have to face the grim reality waiting for them, so they all hovered at the edge of the front walk by some unspoken agreement as they allowed themselves to avoid this for just a few moments longer. 

But ignorance couldn’t last forever so eventually, they moved forward. 

It was Paul that made the first move, pulling out his keys and selecting the correct one as he approached the door. He slid the key into the lock without a word, all eyes on him as he turned it, pushing open the door to reveal the scene beyond it. There was another moment of collective hesitation on the threshold before Judd stepped forward, grabbing the yellow crime scene tape and pulling it down so they could enter their friends’ living room - or at least, what was left of it. 

The once familiar space was unrecognizable as the furniture lay in shambles; splinters of each piece scattered across the room. If they hadn’t known where they were they never would have recognized the space. Nancy toed at the remains of a chair, shifting aside the debris with her foot only to reveal the dark red stain on the floor underneath. She turned away and let the pieces fall back into it.

They had just left the hospital, they had all seen the end result of this destruction. They had already known how bad it could be. Seeing it in this familiar context though? It drove it all home in the most unapologetic way. Nancy in particular was no stranger to the sight of blood, but seeing it in your friends’ home, knowing it belonged to one of them? That was something else entirely and no amount of professional detachment could make this okay. She turned away from the stain - ignoring the sound of glass crunching under her shoe from the shattered picture frames strewn across the floor - beside her to find Paul fingering an indent in the wall with a grim expression. When he felt her looking he met her gaze. 

“Knife mark,” he said by way of explanation, his eyes roaming the rest of the walls. “Several of them, by the looks of it.” 

Somehow the silence in the room seemed to grow even heavier in the wake of Paul’s words as they all took in the destruction and the damage and the fact that their friends had nearly died in their own home; that they still might, even now. 

The silence was finally broken by Judd, his typical drawl much harsher than usual as it sliced through the quiet and dismay that filled the room. 

“What the fuck happened here?” he demanded to the room at large, but he got no response. It was the same question they all had and as of yet, there were no answers. Only fear, pain, and a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, this was as bad as it got. That maybe by some miracle their friends would pull through this, would survive this senseless act of violence. 

That somehow TK and Carlos would be okay, because the alternative was too awful to consider.  

---------

Marjan had been wrapping up practice when she got the call. It was Mateo on the other line, his shaking voice informing her that he was driving Captain Strand to St. David’s because he had been in the kitchen with the older man and Buttercup when he had been informed. 

It was what he had said next that had sent her crashing back down onto the bench, skates in hand and concerned expressions trained on her as she tried her best to not absolutely shatter at the edge of the roller rink. 

Nancy was at her sister’s, rolling her eyes at the antics of her nephews as she stirred the sauce on the stove and her sister gossiped about their Aunt Susan and her much younger boyfriend when her phone rang. Then she was out the door, the spoon abandoned on the counter with a shouted apology to her sister as she grabbed her coat and keys and tried to hide how much her hands were shaking as she reached for the doorknob and stepped out into the chilly Austin night. At least, she reasoned as she hurried to her car, if anyone did notice the way she trembled they would assume it was the cold — they didn’t have to know it was because it felt like her world was fraying at the seams. 

Paul had been on a date and he felt bad for leaving her at the restaurant, he really did, but there was no other option. He knew his mother would string him up if she ever heard he had done something so rude to any of his dates, but he also had a feeling that in this case even Cynthia Stickland would allow him this one. Maybe he should have taken her home first but she had assured him it was fine and he knew that he couldn’t have handled the wait. He knew that every moment he was driving in the opposite direction of the hospital would weigh on him, that he would crack under the strain and that was not second date territory. So he returned to the table after he ended his call, voice tight as he made his hurried apologies and she assured him that no, it was fine, that she hoped everything turned out okay. 

He had somehow managed a smile as he turned away and he thanked her for her sentiments, even if he didn’t share just how desperately he wished they came true. 

Judd had been getting their daughter ready for her evening bath when Grace had appeared in the doorway with his phone in her hand and eyes full of fear. He had taken the phone from her and sat heavily on the edge of the tub as Mateo quietly explained what had happened, and where they would be. Grace had already scooped up little Charlotte and merely shook her head when he looked at her. 

“You need to go, Judd,” she said softly, squeezing their little girl close as she spoke, “go be with them, and keep me posted. Tell them I’ll be praying.” 

And there was so much Judd wanted to say to that, so many thoughts in his head and so many feelings fighting for dominance that in the end, he said nothing. He simply stood on shaking legs and leaned forward to press a kiss to each of his girls, pausing for another moment to hold them both close before he stepped around them, grabbing his coat and heading out into the night. 

As he climbed into his truck he tried to tell himself that it would all be okay, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it. 

----------

“I talked to Mitchell before we left,” Marjan finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence filling the room. “She said that APD is done processing, so we can do whatever we want with...what’s left.” 

Paul looked up, pulling his gaze from where it had settled on a dark stain on the throw rug. “Did she say if they have any leads? Or even an idea of what happened?” 

She shook her head sadly, “No. There’s not much they can go on. None of the neighbors saw anything and all the blood...well, it won’t help to find their attackers, apparently. As for what happened, apparently they have some theories, but we won’t really know anything until one of them wakes up.” 

“If they wake up,” Nancy added, voice harsh and quiet as she looked at the destruction around them. She didn’t want to be a pessimist, but the others didn’t know. They knew it was bad, but they hadn’t gotten the rundown from one of the trauma nurses on duty. They didn’t have the medical training to know that what they had been through; that the injuries they had weren’t the kind you always recovered from. 

That they could just as easily be fatal, given the chance. 

Nobody chastised her for being pessimistic. They simply moved on, nobody willing to dwell on the questions they didn’t have answers to and the fears that they did. 

“We should still get this cleaned up,” Mateo said eventually, “so when they get home it looks like nothing happened.” 

His words were full of a certainty Nancy wished she felt, but no one countered him either. They all wanted him to be right, Nancy knew and she understood. She wanted him to be right too; she wanted that more than anything. 

So she took off her jacket and laid it across the ledge by the front door before pushing up her sleeves heading towards the kitchen. 

“I’ll grab some garbage bags,” she called over her shoulder. “Once we’ve cleaned up all the stuff we can’t save we’ll have a better idea of what we’re working with.” 

Noises of agreement followed her out of the room and as she pulled open the cupboard under the sink where she knew they stashed the cleaning supplies she allowed herself a moment to embrace Mateo’s unshakable optimism. They would get their home cleaned up so they had somewhere to come home to. They would get it back to normal so it looked like their home and not the nightmare they had walked into. 

They would put everything back together so maybe, just maybe, someday when she closed her eyes she would see how it had been before, and not the scene of destruction they had walked into today. 

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

“What happened?” Marjan demanded as she stepped into the waiting room, softening when she saw the faces before her all full of the same fear and panic she was feeling. 

“We don’t know,” Captain Strand said eventually with a small, helpless shrug. “Nobody knows. One of their neighbors was walking their dog when she saw the door open. She said something didn’t feel right so she went to check, and she found them.” 

He didn’t provide any other details, didn’t specify how they were found and that more than anything filled her with dread.   

“Gabriel is trying to get answers,” another voice shared, this one soft and thick. Marjan looked over to see Carlos’s mother in the seat beside the captain, her face pale and eyes full of worry, “I think maybe he thinks it’ll be easier to process if we know. Or maybe he just needs something else to focus on. Either way, he doesn’t seem to be having much luck.” 

Marjan followed the older woman’s nod to a figure in the corner, speaking into his phone as he turned his hat over and over in his free hand as his foot tapped against the floor. Even from here his distress was palpable; the fear and worry etched clearly into every inch of his face. It made her wonder once again what had happened. She may have only known Gabriel Reyes for a short period of time and not very well at all, but she knew him well enough to know that whatever had happened was bad. Gabriel Reyes loved his son, she didn’t doubt that. But the man was a Texas Ranger; he had spent a lifetime seeing unthinkable things. Yet here he was, clearly shaken to his very core. For something to have affected him this much...the very idea left a cold feeling of dread seeping through her core. 

“Do we at least know how they are?” she questioned again, voice quieter in the face of all the hurt and fear encompassing them. 

It was Tommy who spoke this time, the paramedic captain’s voice tight with barely concealed pain and worry, “They’re alive, and that’s something.” 

The way she said it made Marjan wonder what she knew and what she wasn’t saying. She wanted to push, she wanted to demand answers. She wanted to know what had happened to her friends; to two of the people that had become family to her. 

But it was clear they were all in the same boat, that none of these people knew any more than she did and that they all cared just as much. So she swallowed her questions and sank into the empty seat beside Mateo, glancing around at the others as she did. In some ways this was horrifyingly familiar but in others, it felt so different. Every other time they had at least known what had brought them here and what they were facing. This unknown entity; the uncertainty hung heavy in the air around them and it made her queasy. The questions mixed with her fear, leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth. But there were no answers to be had and, even if there were, they wouldn’t help. 

She sighed and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair as she accepted the inevitable: there was nothing she could do but wait, and hope for the best.   

---------

People had always asked Paul why he wasn’t a cop, given his propensity to solve puzzles and spot patterns. There were the obvious answers, of course: that the police force was less than tolerant generally speaking, that the very institution wasn’t something Paul thought he could really take a part in. 

Then there was the less obvious but just as true reason: Paul wanted to help people, but he didn’t want to watch them suffer. He wanted to help people to escape the worst moments of their lives, not pick up the pieces after. Firefighters got to do that, cops didn’t.  

In that regard, he had a lot of respect for Carlos. How he could do that and still maintain a modicum of sanity and compassion was beyond Paul, but he truly admired him for it. Which, somehow, made this even worse. 

Paul already knew that he didn’t have crime scene investigation in him, that hadn’t been a question. But he couldn’t stop himself from trying to put together the pieces as he stood amongst the destruction of his friends’ living room. He couldn’t stop himself from seeing the patterns, from hypothesizing how each bit of damage was caused; on how each bit of blood was spilled. It filled his head with unwanted images the moments as it happened; of what they must have been through. 

He had never hated his skills more than he did at this moment. He didn’t want to see this, to imagine what might have happened. He didn’t want to move aside some of the debris to find some blood and wonder whose it was. He didn’t want to dwell on the idea of two of his closest friends suffering; being brutally attacked in their own home. A place that had felt safe, that had almost been a second home to Paul. But that illusion of safety had been shattered and now it just felt like an awful reminder, and he would give anything to be able to look at it objectively. 

A part of him wanted to keep going, to keep trying to solve the puzzle before him. It would help, a voice in his mind said, it could bring whoever did this to justice. 

And that was tempting. He did want to see whoever had done this pay for what they did. But he also knew that it wouldn’t actually change anything. Carlos and TK would still be hurt, the rest of their family would still be suffering. 

------

Home invasion. 

That was the reigning theory now. It was a home invasion gone terribly, horrifically wrong. They didn’t know whether they had been home from the start or if they had interrupted it; they didn’t know if it was random or if it was something that had been planned; if they had been targeted. They didn’t know anything, and Paul hated not knowing things.  

This was one of those things, someone had said. One of those random acts of violence with no real motive or explanation. Realistically, Paul knew they happened. He just couldn’t understand how it had happened to his friends. He had never put too much stock in the idea of fate - he firmly believed that everyone made their own choices in life - but he couldn’t help but wonder why them. Why did TK and Carlos - two people who had given so much of themselves to help others each and every day - deserve to have so much suffering? 

Eventually, they did find the culprit, or culprits, as they soon discovered when one of them tried to use TK’s credit card to pay at a gas station only a few miles from their house, but having the answers didn’t make it make any more sense.  

Paul had already known that catching their attacker wouldn’t make everything magically better, but he hadn’t imagined it would make anything worse. But as the detective on the case explained, he found he was wrong. Apparently, according to the one who would talk, he and his buddies had broken into an empty home. It was early evening and the lights were off so they had figured it was a good enough target. But they had been interrupted, he said, when two men had entered the house and caught them in the act. They had all been high, he admitted, so the details were fuzzy, but he knew that one of their group tended to have a particularly violent streak and that that night, he couldn’t be reasoned with. 

It was him who had used the knife, their informer clarified, but another had helped. He had thought the two men who had come in were dead by the time he had gotten his buddies to stop, he had admitted quietly, so he had pulled them out of the house as fast as he could and had never looked back. 

The room was so silent when the detective finished speaking that you could have heard a pin drop. The sound of Nancy’s chair scraping against the floor as she stood and rushed out of the room cut through the space like a gunshot and it was all Paul could do to simply breathe. Slowly the others reacted too, as Judd started swearing up and down and Marjan rose to follow Nancy, her own eyes moist but her back straight as she strode out of the room. He heard his Captain and Ranger Reyes asking questions but for once, Paul managed to shut that part of himself off. 

There was no making sense of this, he decided, so the best thing he could do was focus on helping them move forward instead; assuming that they got that chance. 

-----------

Mateo was pretty sure he had developed a stress response to the sight of Ikea furniture.  

It always seemed to appear in the aftermath of a tragedy, and he had seen it too many times in the past few years. After the condo fire, after his house blew up, and now as they set about replacing some of the furniture that had once stood in TK and Carlos’s living room.  

Maybe it should be a good thing, he reasoned. The furniture came with the rebuilding, after all. 

It had come when TK and Carlos had first bought this place and needed a couple of staple pieces quickly. They would buy real furniture soon, Carlos vowed, but until they could get around to it, some cheap and easy pieces would do. Mateo wondered if they had ever gotten around to it. He kind of hoped they hadn’t. 

“Man I hope they appreciate this,” Paul said as he flipped through the convoluted instructions for the bookshelf. 

“Of course they will.” Nancy countered from the other side of the room. “If they know what’s good for them.” 

The light and optimistic banter was a change from the days before. The others seemed more hopeful now, readier to believe the best of the situation. Mateo supposed he had himself to thank for it, he was the one that had insisted from the start that they would be okay, after all. 

But the thing is, he’s not so sure he even believes it anymore. 

As the others’ optimism grows, his own seems to fade. It’s been too long, a voice whispered in his mind. If they aren’t okay by now, they never will be again. 

It’s a thought that keeps returning and as many times as he shoves it aside, as he pushes it back; it just keeps coming and coming and coming. Mateo has always been the optimist. He has always been the one to think the best of everyone except himself. He had always believed that everything would work out. 

But he’s tired. There have been so many times and so many nights spent hoping when everyone else was doubting. There have been so many times when the worst should have happened but didn’t, by some miracle. And Mateo was okay with the idea of miracles - he had been raised Catholic, after all. But he couldn’t help but think they were running out, and that was something he wasn’t ready to face. 

So he shoved it back again and plastered on a smile as he sorted through the packaging to find the piece Paul was describing. Mateo Chavez was an optimist, he reminded himself. And optimists didn’t give up on their friends. 

No matter how bad things might look. 

----------

From the moment Grace had handed him his phone time had seemed to slow. 

It was the waiting, Judd thought, that made it drag on. All the hours sitting in the waiting room; the sleepless nights spent dreading a phone call to say that the worst had happened. They moved forward and they moved on because they had to, but every moment seemed to stretch as they grew further and further from a time when everything was fine and closer to the moment that could change everything. 

Hope seemed to ebb and flow as time marched on and optimism came in spikes. But it wears on them all and Judd wished time could just go back to normal, that this could all be over. 

But then he thinks of what “over” might mean, and he backtracks. 

For a while it seemed that maybe one of them had better odds than the other. That while one of them might pull through, the other might not. No one really talked about it; what that might mean for the one. They all loved them both and to have either of them with them would be a blessing, Judd didn’t doubt that for a moment. It was what they all wanted more than anything. 

But he was also in love, and he knew that those two had the same kind of love that he and Gracie did: all consuming, bright, deep love that wrapped you to another for the rest of time. To truly be one half of a whole. And - it was a thought he kept to himself, of course - he couldn’t help but think that the only thing crueler than losing them both was for one of them to lose the other. He couldn’t imagine facing that and he didn’t want to see anyone else have to go through it either. He knew people did - hell, Tommy was proof enough of that - but if he could he would do anything to spare them the pain of that. 

So he prays, more than he has in years. If there were ever a time to test the strength of his healing faith, it was now. 

And then, by some miracle, the news finally comes. 

He and the others are standing in their living room, taking in the newly repaired space. There isn’t a trace of the destruction they had found when they had first arrived and stepped past the crime scene tape to see the horror within what had been their friends’ home. It now looks almost as it did before: a warm, safe space they had all spent many nights in. A welcoming place that felt a bit like home. 

The walls had been repaired and repainted, the floors had been cleaned, the furniture had been repaired or replaced. The pictures had been rehung in new, undamaged frames and all their various knick-knacks and tchotchkes were sitting in their usual spots. The only thing missing now was TK and Carlos. 

It was Nancy’s phone that rang, her voice that cut through the room as she asked Tommy what had happened. It was the sight of her collapsing into one of the chairs that drew their attention and stole all their breath. And when she looked up at them, it was her smile and tear-filled eyes that let them know they could breathe again as she said the words they had all been waiting to hear: “They’re going to be okay.” 

And then time picked up again and as the others let out sounds of celebration and Paul picked up Marjan to spin her around, Judd simply smiled. 

They’re okay, a voice in his head repeated, everything will be fine now. 

And for once, Judd actually believed it.  

----------

It’s all TK can do not to roll his eyes as his dad insists on helping him out of the back seat of Andrea’s car. 

“Dad,” he said evenly, “I can walk, you know.” 

“Humor me,” his dad retorted in an unimpressed tone. 

TK opened his mouth to argue again but a soft laugh from beside him stole his attention instead. 

“Don’t even bother,” Carlos told him, “believe me, I’ve tried.” 

Somewhere between Carlos’s words and the warmth in his eyes TK found he couldn’t argue so he nodded and Owen shook his head, mystified. 

“I will never understand how you do that. If it were anyone else we would still be having this argument into next week.”  

Carlos simply shrugged modestly but TK spoke up as they headed up the walkway to their front door, “It’s just one of his many talents.” 

Owen looked beside him to Garbiel with an exaggerated roll of his eyes as Andrea let out a light laugh from behind them. Carlos gave TK a pointed look but it was only met with a grin, and his attention was so devoted to his boyfriend that he almost didn’t notice the small crowd in their living room until they were already there. From there he was forced to do a double-take. His memories of that night were hazy, at best. It was a jumble of pain and fear and worry for Carlos as he watched him being attacked through heavy eyes. His recollection may be less than clear, but he is certain their home had been left in shambles. 

Yet here they were, standing in a living room that might just be cleaner than they had left before heading to dinner all those nights ago; before they had come home to find strangers ransacking their home and TK couldn’t understand it. 

He looked back to Carlos who looked just as confused as he was before glancing over at the group in the center of the room; his team, their family. 

The question must have been clear on his face because Nancy scoffed. 

“What?” she demanded, “Did you really think we were just going to let you come home to that mess? It’s like you don’t even know us.” 

And TK didn’t have the words to respond to that. Instead, he simply glanced back at Carlos to see the love and gratitude he was feeling reflected in his warm brown eyes before he looked back at the others. He gave them a smile and when Judd moved forward to pull him into a hug, he went willingly, savoring the comfort and love that was emanating from every inch of this space filled by these people. 

Someday, when the shock wore off and they were a little stronger, they would find the words to tell them how much it meant. But for now he hugged them all a little tighter and a little longer, and let his whispered thank-yous suffice. They had a long road ahead of them and being okay would take time. But he knew now with more certainty than he ever had before that as long as they had these people, they would always be okay. 

[skloomdumpster]

Since it's Bloom's birthday today.. how would she celebrate it, if Alfea was a normal school?

Answering late because I was saving it for Meta Monday, sorry! I love this question so much!! <33

You said “normal school”, so I’m guessing we’re in a normal AU where no powers exist. If that so, then Bloom never hurt her mom and set fire to the house, but the growing conflict between them is still present. More so now, if anything, because in the show the guilt made Bloom more lenient to her mom’s strong personality, which caused them to “bond” a little after the trauma. Silver linings in horrible situations. 

So Bloom would still be clashing horribly with her mom. Vanessa would beg her to go out, party, be normal. Bloom’s plans would include staying at the garage helping Mike fix a birdhouse, going over the 100 songs of her Spotify wrapped and maybe watching her favorite Harry Potters while stuffing her face with cherry ice cream. She thinks that sounds like a solid plan, her mom disagrees, Vanessa pesters and pesters and then it escalates to “you’ll go out or I’ll just stop paying the house wifi” and FINE, Bloom will go out. 

She figures she can go to the last-standing-DVD store in Gardenia, a relic really, but Bloom also happens to be one of the last people who has a DVD AND a VHS player. She’s trifty like that :)) 

“Have fun with your friends. It can’t be that hard, just a couple hours, GOD” Vanessa exclaims when Bloom accidentally outs the fact her plans are still as introverted as possible. 

She calls Aisha then, because Aisha is one of the very few people she doesn’t hate from her school. Aisha sounds hesitant, “I kinda... I already had plans with Ter and Musa... You can come, though, it’ll be fun! Please, B?” 

Fine. 

“Plans” turn out to be bowling. Aisha is competitive, there’s no surprise, but so is Terra and that is a surprise. Musa is more as moral support, she sucks at bowling, and because the place they go to has a mean cheeseburger. She shares a conspiratory smile with Bloom over the food, “I give it an hour before Terra causes us to be kicked out, again.” 

Bloom snorts, then promptly chokes on her milkshake as her eyes drift past Musa’s head. At the entrance of the bowling place there are the popular pricks from school. Stella, head cheerleader, Riven vice-captain of the fencing team, Sky, the actual captain, and Sky’s sister, head of the debates club, Beatrix. 

“Oh, nevermind, I give it fifteen minutes” Musa scoffs, following Bloom’s gaze, pausing on each of their faces, “what are they doing here?” 

Beatrix catches her looking, opens a sardonic smile, whispers something to Stella and they both chuckle. Those typical, movie-esque mean girl smiles that don’t reach their eyes. 

Bloom sighs, “let’s just wrap it all up and go back home.” 

“No way, we have to play and we have to win,” now Musa is the one who’s up in arms. She ushers Bloom up, practically drags her to the alley, standing right next to the one the rich pricks picked. 

Aisha has caught sight of Stella and she’s frowning, face a clear tell of everything Bloom’s feeling. 

“What?” Beatrix snaps, upon catching them observing. She’s picking her favorite ball, already wearing the shoes, “do you need something?” 

“Just happy to have you back, last we heard they locked you up in a psych ward in Sweden?” Terra answers just as quickly and Beatrix’ smile drops, she squints at them.

“I’m happy the rumors about me kept your ordinary miserable little lives entert-”

“Beatrix, enough,” Sky cuts her off, glaring at the girl and passing a black, large bowling ball to Riven, “leave them alone. Let’s play?” 

Somehow his cold detachment, polite niceness is even worse than Beatrix’s open hostility. Beatrix at least sounds like a high school bully, Sky sounds like he doesn’t belong with them, or wants anything to do with them.

Bloom stares at him, feels her blood boil and decides to hate him on principle. Condescending little fucker. 

She catches Riven’s gaze, the amused glint in his eyes and he leans in, whispers something to Stella and the blonde girl too stares Bloom up and down, like she’s some kind of insect stuck the sole of her shoe. 

“Pass me the ball,” Bloom scoffs, then doesn’t wait for an answer and takes it from Aisha’s fingers. 

She’s here to win. 

[literallythebiggestfuckingsimp]

Our Little Secret

description: you and rudy have been sneaking around for a while now, what happens when you get caught in front of thousands of fans?😳😳

warnings: making out?? ooo and swearing oops (as a british person i can’t just NOT swear)

            Rudy’s lips smashed against yours, moving hungrily as his arms snaked around your waist. You gasped, arms moving to hook around his neck as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You had to be on set in five, and you were just passing the time with your good friend Rudy in his trailer.

Between the two of you, neither of you were quite sure what you were. So far, all you guys had done was purely physical. Of course, there had been lingering touches, longing stares, stolen smiles. But you hadn’t talked about it. 

It had started with flirty jokes, and then, boom! It just kinda happened, if you were being honest.

Not breaking the kiss, the two of you stumbled backwards until you bumped into the table. You jumped up and he took his pace between your legs, detaching his lips from yours and turning his attention to the skin on your neck. You moaned, heading rolling back to give him more access.

“Hey, Rudy? You in there?” Your eyes widen at the voice outside the trailer door, freezing both yours and Rudy’s movements.

“Uh, yeah?” Rudy says, clearing his throat.

“Why’s the door locked, toot?” You could practically see the suggestive smirk on Chase’s face.

“Cause I’m about to take a shit and I didn’t want anyone to come in here and smell that,” Rudy replies, looking at you with a grin on his face. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, pressing your face up to it to suppress your laughter.

Chase laughs. “Alright, then, but have you seen Y/N? I’ve been looking for her everywhere.”

“Nah, sorry bro,” Rudy calls out when you shake your head at him. “I’ve gotta take this shit or I’ll explode. See you in a sec.”

“It’s good, bro,” Chase replies. “She’s gotta be on set now, though. I’ll find her, don’t worry about it. Probably went off to craft services or something.”

You glare at the door where Chase is stood on the other end, but your eyes widen wen you realise you’re gonna be late to set.

“Cya, man,” Rudy says, helping you down from the counter as you pat down your hair. Chase mumbles a “bye”.

You two wait until it’s clear, giving Rudy a quick peck as you subtlety sneak out the trailer door once you’re sure Chase is gone.

As you walk - more like jog - away, you look back. Through the window you salute to Rudy, and he salutes back with a maniacal grin on his perfect face.

♡

You’ve just finished shooting for the day, and straight away, you headed over to see Rudy. He’d slid you a note earlier in the day to meet him at his trailer once you were done.

Arriving, you were immediately pulled into a kiss by by the blond headed bimbo who���d stolen your heart. You smiled against his lips, happily thinking about the fact that you could finally call him yours.

Around two weeks ago now you two had finally sorted through your shit and admitted your feelings for each other. However, you’d both decided it would be better if you kept your newfound relationship to yourselves. You didn’t want to make things awkward if it didn’t work out, and, besides, sneaking around was fun. “Think of it as our little secret,” you had said.

You pulled away from the kiss and he pouted. Laughing, you pecked him on the cheek and watched as a smile took over on his lips. Rudy’s arms situated themselves around your waist as he laid the two of you down on the makeshift sofa in his trailer.

Rudy was lying on your lap as you played with his hair, occasionally kissing him as some stupid ass movie played on the TV. It was a nice breather from all the crazy scenes you’d been filming and you couldn’t feel more relaxed.

Well, that was until there was a knock at the door. You wasted no time in rushing into the bathroom, hiding as Rudy went to answer the door.

“Yo, dude,” you hear JD greet and you mentally cuss him out.

“Uh, hey, JD, Maddie,” Rudy says. “What’s up?”

“Why’re you being so weird?” Maddie questions, confused as to why Rudy seemed hesitant about letting them in.

“Me?” Rudy asks, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m not being weird.”

“Whatever,” Madison huffs. You hear her and JD walk in and mutter profanities under your breath. Thank god you had picked up your phone from the sofa or you would be toast. “We wanted to watch a movie and you have the comfiest couch.”

“What’re we watchin?” Rudy asks, bouncing on his heels. Madison shares a look with JD, confused as to what the hell was up with him.

“I dunno,” JD shrugs. “I gotta take a tinker in your bathroom, though. I’ll be right back.” He says, and your eyes widen.

“No!” Rudy calls out, and you search frantically for an escape route. There’s a window, but it’s kinda small, you’re not sure if you’d fit. Fuck it, you think as you hear JD and Mads confront Rudy about being weird.

“I just mean ... it’s kinda rank in there,” Rudy says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Disgusting,” Madison mutters.

“I’ll just block out the smell,” JD shrugs. “I’m desperate, bro.”

Rudy silently prays to himself as you fumble about the bathroom, climbing on top of the seat. You put one leg through the window as the footsteps land right outside the door, and  try to slyly maneuver yourself out with your phone in one hand. Your plan fails miserable and you tumble to the ground, landing in a bush.

“Fuck,” you mutter, sitting up and pulling leaves out your hair.

The door to the bathroom swings open and you run as fast as you can back to your own trailer. You ignore the confused looks of the crew members, and Drew calling your name as he sees you run past with twigs in your hair.

As soon as you get back to your trailer, you shoot Rudy a quick text.

I jumped out the window ;)

Jesus, Y/N. You good?

Yeah, just thank god for my super rad spy skills.

Sure, baby. Sure.

♡

You giggle as Rudy pushes you down on your bed, peppering your skin with kisses, making you laugh more.

Filming had ended and you were currently quarantined with the cast, stuck in yours and Madelyn’s apartment. After the release of the show, you had gained quite a big fan base and your time had been occupied with online interviews and live streams. You’ve barely had the chance to sneak around with Rudy, not wanting to raise any suspicions since fans had already started shipping the two of you, pointing out the way he looks and interacts with you, and vice versa.

You didn’t want to let your friends catch on. Not yet.

Swiftly, you flip you and Rudy over, straddling him as you pull him in for a passionate kiss. You must not have heard the footsteps creeping up to your room, or the door swing open as you kissed your boyfriend.

A quick shriek alerted you of someone’s presence. You scrambled away from Rudy, cheeks red and eyes wide. It was Madelyn, stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. Clumsily, she dropped her phone, the object clattering to the floor

“Fuck,” Rudy mutters, pulling on his shirt as you put your hands over your face in attempt to hide you embarrassment.

Madelyn stands dead still, frozen to the spot. “Oh my god, guys, I am so so so sorry! I didn’t know you two were-”

By now, you had alerted the attention of Chase and Drew, who came running over at the sound of a scream. It didn’t take them long to connect the dots, between your rosy cheeks and swollen lips and Rudy’s messy hair and flustered appearance.

“Oh, shit,” Drew swore, eyes wide.

“Uh, guys ...” Madelyn spoke up, chuckling nervously. “I was on live and they saw ...” she motions between the two of you with her hands, “that.”

Honestly, you think you could’ve died, right then and there. You scramble to grab Maddie’s phone from the floor, seeing the comments screaming about what they had just accidentally witnessed and quickly end the live.

“I’m so sorry!” Maddie squeals, cheeks tinging red. “I was planning on scaring Y/N and I didn’t think Rudy would be in here, let alone that you two would be-”

You quickly cut her off, scratching the back of your neck and biting your lip. “It’s fine, Maddie. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah,” Rudy clears his throat. “You couldn't have known.”

“Uh, well,” Drew chuckles. “This is awkward.”

“Honestly, I’m gonna need a good few shots to erase the embarrassment of this moment from my memory,” you state, walking through the door and towards the kitchen where a bottle of vodka awaits you.

“I second that,” Rudy says, following you and lazily placing an arm around your waist.

Chase grins, watching the two off you. “So ... “ he trails off, gesturing between the two of you with his hand. “Are you two, yanno, together?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You nod and Rudy smiles. “Yeah, we have been for a while now.”

“God, it’s about time!” Chase exclaims.

“You guys were pretty bad at hiding it,” Drew states, a grin of his own on his lips.

You mock fake offence, gasping as you poor the vodka into your shot glass. “We’ve been dating for four months, so, obviously not.” 

Madelyn’s mouth hangs open. “Four months?!” she yells. “And you didn’t tell us?”

Rudy shrugs, kissing your cheek fondly. “Eh, it was pretty fun sneaking around.”

“Agreed,” you say, smiling up at him. He meets your gaze, pecking you on the lips.

“Ew, you guys,” Chase groans. “Just because you’re together now doesn’t mean you can be all openly affectionate.”

Madelyn whacks his arm, rolling her eyes. “Shut up, they’re cute.”

“Nah, they’re gross,” Drew jokes, laughing. “Anyway, I made Mama Starkey’s casserole. Who wants some?”

“Me!” you exclaim, grinning excitedly. If there was one thing you loved it was Mama Starkey’s chicken casserole. Also, eating and drinking would be a good way to get your mind off the fact that practically the entire world saw you on top of a shirtless Rudy, making out with him.

A/N: AHAHAH THE WAY I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END THIS SHDJSHJDH also pls excuse the crappy writing this was made at 4am last night😳

[bonny-kookoo]

Enticing Girl (JJK x Reader) 🎀(☁️)💜🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Good Girl AU!, Fluff, Smut, slight comedy, only a teeny tiny little bit of angst

Warnings: Fluff, it’s so soft pls, GG and JK being best puppy-parents, Dom! Jungkook, Sub!Reader, Dom/Sub themes, mild DDLG themes, usage of toys (the vibrator pt.2 lol), oral (fem. receiving), Squirting, Subspace, Soft aftercare king ‘Koo, GG scratches his back and he thinks it’s funny, GG is clumsy and has to go to the ER, nothing too bad, but she’s kinda on a lot of pain meds, Jungkook being whipped, GG talking without a filter and he loves it

Summary: Jungkook never wanted to see you in any kind of hospital ever again. This time however, it ends way differently than last time, and he couldn’t help but feel almost overwhelmed with emotions.

Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl || Pretty Girl || Charming Girl || Enticing Girl || Bad Girl || ???

Taglist: @sweetenedcooky @ggukkieland @btsismybias22 @darkgvk @daddypkj @flowerprincess24 @crazylittlemay @zeharilisharaban @teresaisla @tangledsparkles @dammit-jjk

"What the fuck!" Jungkook laughed, as he pulled you inside the small diner, his cotton zip hoodie already soaked with the rain from outside. You hit his chest playfully at his cursing, making a few lone costumers and a waitress snicker at your antics, and your own cheeks redden. Your boyfriend shook his head like a wet dog shaking his coat, making you whine as the drops fell onto you, as he laughed, kissing your cheek. "Sorry, sorry. Lets sit down." He said, walking to a small booth in the corner, where he simply threw his soaked clothing onto the seats, making you click your tongue at him. "Ah come on now, sit down and be a good girl now while I get the menus." He said, making you huff as you sat down, cheeks still ablaze because of his words.

Alex had made a little fun about it the last time you spoke with her. The fact that you seemed trained like a dog to his very command as soon as he would utter these things to you in a way that always included you being 'his good girl'. You had told her time and time again that no, you were not whipped for him, and yes, you could be independent and go against his words. You had yet to prove that, however. It wasn't like you wanted to go against him, however- your nature didn't allow you to. As someone who liked to be taken care of in the most nurturing kinds of ways, you wanted to see if Jungkook would take on that role of a partner who would simply comply with these needs. So basically, what you were doing, was pushing and pushing, until you'd demand something he couldn't give. Of course you could just plain straight tell him what you wanted, but you craved him to do these things naturally, not because he would feel like he needed to do them in order to make you happy.

Jungkook had noticed your behaviour as well. Instead of using that to his advantage, he'd gone around the world wide web and done research, simply because he felt like he'd read about this entire situation before. He knew about things like subspace, a mindset you slipped into easily during sex whenever he would push your buttons just right- these days even without any sexual nature in his gestures. The funny thing was, that Taehyung had actually told him to search up some things, 'maybe it could be helpful' he'd said. And it had been, he decided after he'd found a lot of information about what this could mean for you as a person. Were you someone who regressed, but simply didn't know? It could be. Or maybe you weren't. He'd ask you about that later on.

When he'd come back to your table, you slowly put your phone away as he sat down, looking at the menu. "Anything catching your eye princess?" He asked as he looked over the dishes as well, trying to decide what he wanted for himself. You hated making decisions, always waiting for Jungkook to do tell you whatever he would get as an example to go by. He noticed that, as you began to shuffle around in your seat, slightly sucking your upper lip in between your lips to chew on the skin in frustration. He clicked his tongue, hand reaching out to pull your lip out of its danger of getting seriously hurt as he looked at you. "Don't do that. Let me get the sunny side up eggs, and you'll take the pancakes. If you wanna switch we can, sound's good?" He said, and you nodded, glad he took the burden of the decision from you.

It was still early, your first morning of yours and Jungkooks shared week of freedom from your work. You'd taken the days off at the same time to spend some well deserved time together without the need to get up early in the mornings, or stay up late to wait for the other to finish their shift. Today you started with getting breakfast together, the weather however had switched seemingly out of nowhere, making you both regret walking to the small diner instead of taking the car.

It didn't matter to you, however- the fact that Jungkook had desperately tried but failed to shield your form from the sudden downpour from above with his zip hoodie made you feel as if you were stuck in a romantic drama full of cliches and happy endings. It felt magical, in a way, as cheesy as it sounded.

Once the food arrived, Jungkook thanked the waitress as she set the plates down, his hands already reaching for the cutlery as you gently pulled yours towards you. The small restaurant slowly filled up as the time went by, squeaking shoes and the laughter of a foreign family walking in breaking the silence around everyone. Jungkook watched you as you started to dig into your pancakes, smiling a bit as he slowly began to eat as well. "Is there something you wanna do today?" He asked you, as you looked at him, shaking your head. Today you really wanted to just embrace the simple fact you could both be lazy. He nodded, instantly moving his finger over your lower lip as some crumbs failed to make it into your mouth in time, swiping across before pushing a bit, his own lips turning upwards a bit as he noticed how you complied without thinking much, letting his finger inside your mouth to welcome the stray crumbs of food that were supposed to end up there in the first place. You really were sweet.

"The lets go home after the rain clears up and take a nap, sounds good?" He said, and you nodded again, already hyped at the vision of him and you curled up on the couch, windows opened to let the cool air in as you both slept for as long as you wanted. For others it may seemed to be a pretty dull plan for the day, but for you both it was rare to be able to be lazy. Jungkook had just recently found his dream job at a tuning workshop as an airbrush artist. He'd been a bit hesitant, yet after a bit of reassurance from your side he'd finally agreed to send in some of his own sketches and practices he'd collected over time. They had almost immediately agreed to take him under their wing despite his lack of knowledge concerning actual work experience. That had been the big reason why he'd always stayed late, being given extra lessons in how to actually work with professional equipment. He loved his new job, you'd noticed that instantly, yet he had also felt bad that you always stayed up to wait for him to come home despite having to get up early in the mornings for your own job, constantly finding you asleep on the couch rather than in his bed where you should rest. The week of freetime came as a beacon of hope that things would get a bit easier since it showed that you both had settled into your own jobs well enough to receive short-notice freedom just by asking kindly.

It was also good for the both of you since you would be finally picking up your dog the next day, your vacation probably filled with chaos and happiness- and you couldn't wait.

"Come on, lets go take a shower while we can throw the clothes in the wash." Jungkook said as he stepped into the apartment you both shared, making you smile happily as you skipped into the bathroom, already pulling your sweater over your head. Jungkook came inside soon after, picking up the clothes you had simply thrown onto the tiles as you stepped out of your pants. "Since when do we make such a mess princess?" He said as he accusingly stood in front of the sweater in front of his sock clad feet, arms crossed in front of him. You looked at him for a moment before you pouted, picking it up with mild attitude and throwing it into the open washing machine, making him sigh as he caged you in with his arms on either side of you, chest against your backside. "And since when, pray tell, do we have such an attitude?" He grumbled, his voice low as he spoke close to your ear. You squirmed a bit, trying to duck your way out of your current situation, but he'd easily caught onto your plan by grabbing your wrists and holding them onto the edge of the washing machine, keeping you in place. "Hm?" He pressed, as you simply shrugged your shoulders. "Huh. I see." He said, as he suddenly detached himself from you, leaving the bathroom.

"Jungkook?" You asked meekly, peaking around the corner of your living room where he'd sat down, on his phone. He hummed an answer without looking up, aknowledging your questioning call of his name, but not giving you full attention. Did you get too far? "Aren't you.. you know, gonna shower too?" You asked, and he nodded, still not looking at you.

"I'll take one after you're done." He simply said, and the corners of your lips turned downwards at that, almost asking why, before your mind connected the dots.

He was punishing you.

You stepped back inside the bathroom, ridding yourself of your undergarments before stepping inside the shower, cleaning yourself. Until today, Jungkook had never really punished any behavior other than when you didn't speak clearly. He'd always simply taken it as you being a bit impish that day, as if you were just in a funny mood. This was new to you, and you didn't know if you were happy with it or not, simply because you could not clearly figure out if it was for the right reason in your eyes.

You stepped outside the shower, eyes widening at the fluffy sweater and sweatpants, as well as underwear he'd set out for you on the sink. He maybe gave you the silent treatment, but this simple gesture made your heart melt. He really was too sweet for you. Grabbing everything and slowly dressing yourself, you dried your hair with a towel until it stopped dripping, as it slipped from your hand, falling to the ground and taking some stray items next to the sink with it. You didn't look as you tried to catch it from actually meeting the floor, hand failing to reach the fabric, but instead squeezing something else, that made you take in a sharp breath, instantly dropping whatever you had in your hand just now.

Small red droplets fell to the floor as you squeezed your hand, whimpering a bit, careful not to be too loud to catch Jungkooks attention. You panicked a bit as you saw the amount of blood collecting in your palm, on the white tiles the razor you had accidentally grabbed in your fast movement. You grabbed a freshly cleaned kitchen towel from the bag of recently cleaned things such as oven mitts and the dogbed Jungkook had bought second hand. You wrapped it around tightly, but it still seeped through, making you sigh out. Nop, you had to get him.

“Jungkookie..?” You timidly asked, leaning against the doorframe as he turned around from his spot in front of his TV, pulling down his headset.

“Yeah Princess?” He asked, raising his eyebrow in a silent question at your form.

“So uh..” you started, trying to ignore the angry throbbing of your hand. “Let’s say uh, purely hypothetically, you cut yourself accidentally in your hand, when should you like.. you know, see a doc?” You asked, biting your lip.

Jungkooks eyebrows furrowed, immediately getting up as soon as he discarded his headset of the floor, walking over to you and reaching out for your hand that you had behind your back. “I ain’t playing games young lady, Hand. Now.” He demanded, and you hesitantly gave in, putting your hand wrapped in a kitchen towel into his waiting ones, as he unraveled the fabric, making you hiss and whine. He grabbed your wrist to take away the possibility of pulling away from him as he sharply took in air between his teeth, carefully inspecting the cut in your palm. “Wrap it up Baby and get my car keys.” He said, already switching off the TV as he ushered you into the small hallway, not taking chances with it.

Oh boy, you really were making a mess today, weren't you?

"...'m hungry koo.." You drawled, making him chuckle a bit as he fastened your seatbelt for you. "Did you hear me?" You asked, a bit like you talked whenever you were drunk. He have had the wonderful privilege of knowing that after picking you up from a birthday party once.

"I've heard you loud and clear baby." He said, closing the car door and walking around the front to open his own and climbing into the drivers seat, a click signifying that he'd put on his own safety as well before he started the engine. "But the nurse said you can't eat anything for the next few hours, at least until the medication has worn off." He said, and you whined, sinking down in your seat, glaring at your bright pink bandage wrapped around your hand as if to set it on fire. To Jungkooks eyes it just looked absolutely adorable. "I promise you I'll get you whatever you want as dinner tonight. Sounds good?" He asked, looking at you for a moment at a red light. You mumbled something but nodded. "What was that?" He said, and you huffed.

"I said 'yeah okay I guess." You repeated your words, and he chuckled. "You're not takin' me seriously Koo!" You whined, and he smiled as he tapped your shoulder, silently ordering you to sit properly.

"I admit that Princess." He said, taking a moment to take in both sides of the road before continuing to drive. "But I can't really do that since you're a bit out of it baby." You gasped as if he'd just insulted you, rolling your eyes. "I saw that." He said sternly, and you squirmed in your place. "you've been huffy like this the entire day today. Do I need to do something about that?" He said, implying something you weren't too sure of.

"m not a baby.." You mumbled as you looked out of the window, making Jungkook smile a bit.

"Well you're behaving like one though. A pretty bratty one at that." He said, and you looked at him.

"Is that bad?" You asked, and he raised his eyebrows as he stopped at a red light again, urging you to continue talking. "Is it bad that I wanna have you taking care o'me like that.?" You carefully worded, even though your words were still a bit hazy. He shook his head.

"I never said I didn't like it, didn't I?" He said, and you simply nodded, but face visibly still uncertain. "It sure isn't like anything I've experienced before, and I'm gonna be honest, I highly doubt I'm fit to be someone to take care of someone like you, but I'm also a selfish asshole who can't give up trying. So yeah, that's that I guess." He spoke, and you looked at him with eyes full of wonder, making him chuckle a bit uneasy. "What now?"

"Your eyes look like Bambis!" You suddenly exclaimed, and he suddenly burst out laughing, that signature laugh were he kind of sounded like a maniac, voice high pitched and mouth wide open. "They do!"

He had to blink a bit to get his eyes to clear up. "I'm sure they do, I'm sure."

"But you're not cute like Bambi." You said, looking out the window.

"I'm not? Why not baby?" He asked, and you seemed to think for a moment, until you answered.

"Dunno." You began, before speaking your next words without hesitation. "maybe because I have to think about the times we had sex, and I can't think of you as cute anymore afterwards."

This time it was him that suddenly went a bit red on the tips of his ears. You never spoke openly about your intimate life like that, so hearing you say it out loud was foreign to him. "Really now?" He said, simply to keep the conversation flowing. He wanted to make the most out of your dazed state, speaking without any filter.

"Hmhm." You hummed. "But now that I think about it, you are kind of cute." You said, and he simply huffed out a breath. "Cause you always take care of me afterwards, no matter how hard you get. You know, remember that time you used that cute vibrator-" Jungkook coughed, replying with a yes. Of course he remembered that. "Yeah, you were sooo sweet afterwards~" You said as you yawned, just before he finally parked the car in front of your apartment complex. "Hm, I liked that." You said, and he looked at you.

"You did? But I was being pretty mean." He said, and you shook your head.

"No. 'Koo's never mean." You mumbled, and he smiled.

His feet walked over the floor, getting closer and closer until the smell of his bodywash hit your nose as he'd crouched right in front of your seemingly sleeping form on his bed, oblivious to the fact that you were slowly regaining consciousness after your short nap on the mattress to clear your system of the medication used to numb your hand as they cleaned and wrapped the skin up. He tapped your nose a few times until you scrunched it up cutely, making him chuckle a bit. You opened your eyes with a pout, until your gaze lowered, noticing his.. very obvious lack of clothing.

"YAH Jungkook, why are you naked?!" You yelled, immediately sitting up and holding a pillow in front of your face, making him burst out laughing.

He grabbed onto the pillow to lower it, but you held it firmly, making him laugh even more. "Baby it's not like you haven't seen my dick before-" He said between his chuckling, but you shook your head behind your makeshift barrier.

"Well yeah but-" You said, "But this is so unexpected I wasn't prepared- just put on pants Jungkook!" You begged as he took your only safety away, leaving you to hold your hands over your eyes, face red as he seemingly couldn't stop laughing.

Initially he'd just tried to wake you to ask where you'd put his most comfortable sweatpants after not finding them in his bedroom earlier, and forgetting to ask you about them when you had finished your shower earlier. But teasing you would always stay hilarious to him, the way you would still blush and get shy whenever he'd do things like that never failing to make him smile. "I would but you hid them so good I can't find them." He said. "Have you seen my black sweatpants? The ones with the white writing on the side?" He asked.

"Jungkook, they're still in the wash, and also-" You took your hands away from your eyes to be met with him still in front of you, skin slightly shiny from his shower. "Jesus-! Also if you're searching for your Sweats why the hell aren't you at least wearing underwear?!" you whined, and he laughed.

"Well I wasn't really planning on wearing any underneath to be honest." He casually explained, sitting down next to you on his bed as he layed down at your legs on his side, his head near your thigh as his hand traced yours still shielding your eyes. He didn't grab nor pulled, he simply tapped it with his finger. "Come on princess, am I that bad to look at?" He said with a whine, and you shook your head. "Then why won't you look at me?" He asked, making you sigh, falling down into the pillows behind you, making him get up a bit to crawl next to you, laying on his stomach. "Okay, my dick is snuggling the mattress now, you can't see it. Can you look at me now?" He asked with a hint of teasing in his voice, as you slowly opened your eyes, testing as if to see if he was lying. He wasn't.

"Jungkookie~!" You whined, and he simply copied you like a parrot, making you pout at him.

"Oh come on, you love this dick!" He exclaimed, and you laughed a bit as you squealed at his hands tickling your sides. "Say it!" He said between laughter, and you shook your head, even as tears gathered in your eyes. "Come on, say it!" He said, not letting you breath.

"Okay okay, I love your dick, I love your dick jungkook please stop!" You said, laughter turning into squeaky noises- something you hated, and he loved.

"Good." He simply said, entire nature of his antics shifting as his hands found their way inside your pants, pulling them down in practiced motion, taking your underwear right along the ride down to your calfs where he simply let them fall down next to his bed, uncaring. He positioned himself between your open legs, next target of his wandering palms underneath your sweater, having already noticed that you had skipped your bra he'd put out for you. It made it easier to access your breasts for him, so he didn't mind at all.

You sighed at it, already at his mercy with just a simple action. Your eyes never leaving his as he watched you squirming underneath him in anticipation of what he had in store for you, already getting riled up at his intense gaze. "I believe earlier you said something about the cute vibrator we used before, hm?" He said, and you turned red at that, having hoped he'd forgotten about it. He simply dug inside his infamous bedside drawer, pulling the toy out, and carefully running it over your center, collecting your already very present wetness as a form of lubrication to push the toy inside you, slowly, as to not make it too uncomfortable. "I also remember your attitude today." He mused as he watched the toy slowly disappear inside you, small rabbit gimmick on the top side of it slowly taking its place snug against your pearl, making you move your hips a bit. "Do you think you've been a good girl today?" He asked, testing how to get you into your familiar headspace. It seemed to work immediately.

"N-no.." You hummed, eyes already moving around a bit anxiously at the way he spoke. He usually didn't address anything that happened during the day whenever you both had sex, always keeping it plain and simple while still changing up the pace and overall energy of it almost every time. Sometimes he was incredibly sweet, while others your muscles ached afterwards in the most delicious of ways. This time however, the theme felt a little different.

"Then you'll know why I'm gonna do this, and you'll take it like the good girl we both know you are, right?" He said, before turning on the toy, low buzzing making you yelp a bit, hands grabbing the sheets. "Keep it there while I watch you." He said, and your eyes widened as you tried to look at him. His eyes held an almost predatory energy in them. "And don't you fucking dare close your legs." He hummed, low voice showing how serious he was about it.

You nodded, hips moving a bit as you tried to hold them as still as possible- the relentless pace of the toy however, made it increasingly difficult to do so as you tried to breath steadily, not noticing how Jungkook himself had taken on another position on the bed, tattooed hand pumping his already hardening length in his hand, lazily, not really having his own release in mind at all. It simply increased the pleasure he already felt watching you- not only watching you, but knowing that you actually tried to follow his orders. It made him feel powerful in a different way he'd craved before he'd met you- and he could say for sure that it already had him addicted. Your soft moans suddenly shifted as your hips bucked into nothing, your thighs trembling as you came in front of him.

He made no move.

You whined at the overstimulation, craving to close your legs, feet already kicking away softly, yet you forced them to stay open as long as you could, breath escaping you in small bursts of air, and Jungkook fed on that view, burning it into his mind before he turned off the toy once he saw your eyes squeeze shut in discomfort. He hushed you softly as he pulled it out of you, letting it bounce slightly off of your clothes on the floor to be cleaned later. His hands found their way underneath your thighs, pushing them upwards as he layed a palm over your center, making you jump a bit at the contact, but you soon relaxed again as he kissed you deeply, tongue instantly forcing its way between your lips.

You didn't put up much of a fight when it came to him anyways.

Slowly, pleasure returned, building up again after your last orgasm as he let your hips roll into his steady hand, letting you decide the pace for a moment, before he took a condom and pulled it over his length, entering you slowly, too slow for your liking. He chuckled at your eagerness before he pushed your thighs apart, flat on the bed as he began a steady but relentless pace right from the start. He could feel your soft muscles tremble underneath his fingers as he held them in place, your own hands reaching for him as he leaned closer, giving you the opportunity to at least try and wrap your hands around his middle- failing however.

It came suddenly.

Normally you'd feel it build up, but it was his hand reaching down as you were delirious with pleasure, flicking your bud just right as you clenched around him, making him gasp as your fingers dug into his back, leaving angry red marks just underneath his shoulder blades as you felt yourself release- quite literally.

Jungkook continued throughout your sudden orgasm, eyes widening as he saw you squirting underneath him, coating his lower abdomen and thighs in clear wetness. He pulled out, leaning down as he placed his mouth onto your intimate parts, tongue working on your nub again softly as he groaned at the taste of you and the way you whined and moaned, openly without any hesitation. It was so enticing to see you like that, how you suddenly sobbed drily in pleasure as you felt him work you through all the overstimulation towards another one, parting with a kiss to push himself inside again, this time sitting, grabbing just underneath your knees to pull you close to him, eyes never leaving the visual pleasure that was his own cock re- and disappearing inside you over and over again, until he felt himself release, pulling out and working his hand over your nub in a fast pace, making you scream for a second before you came with a silent cry, back arching off the mattress underneath, making him sigh at the view.

Your leg quivered, feeling dangerously close to cramping up as Jungkook softly worked his fingers over your muscles, easing them up so that wouldn't happen to you, even in his post orgasmic bliss purely focused on you and your well-being.

He sloppily tied up the condom, throwing it into the bin next to his bed and simply letting himself fall onto the sheets next to you, uncaring of the drenched fabric underneath you both. He simply pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you tried to catch your breath, softly muttering praises into your ear as you fell asleep.

Hearing the door open, you instantly got up from the couch, spotting Jungkook and the light grey dog carrier walking into your living room.

You didn't come along this time because you felt like you would just make the dog anxious with your restless emotions, and Jungkook had decided to pick up the dog without you after that. He slowly put the plastic cage down, opening the door as you both sat down on the floor, waiting for the puppy to emerge.

Which happened quite quickly.

You both had visited her as much as possible to get her comfortable with you, and it showed; as soon as the fluffy white dog spotted you, she happily skipped over to you, licking your hand and chin as much as she could while you laughed. "I'm happy to see you too!" You exclaimed as the puppy barked away, excited at seeing both of her regular visitors now together.

Jungkook simply smiled at the picture in front of him, slowly taking out his phone to snap a memory for himself of that moment.

He really was whipped for you.

After getting acquainted with all of the furniture and rooms of your apartment, you both took Miri out for a walk, Jungkook having remembered that he'd promised you anything you wanted for dinner, which, not to his surprise, involved getting chicken nuggets and milkshakes. It was okay for him however, since you had deserved it after the amazing time you'd given him.

While watching you walk the dog so happily, he reminded himself that this was exactly what he wanted in life. A simple experience like this felt magical with you, the way you saw everything in a special light slowly coloring the picture in front of his own eyes more vibrantly as well. It was truly something only you could do to him.

He didn't need much money, a large house, or anything else. As long as he had this, he would stay happy.

"You know, I never knew you could squirt."

"Jungkook!"

"What?!"

"Not in front of the dog!"

"Oh, really now?!"

[beomglocks]

in the middle ; c.yj

summary : it wasn’t supposed to go this far right?

pairing : yeonjun x reader x beomgyu (?)

warnings & other : cheating, angst (?), requested, slightly suggestive???

w/c : 1.4K

to be fair, you didn't know it would go this far.

was it your fault that choi beomgyu was the kindest most charismatic person alive? no. was it your fault you warned him that you were already dating the most possessive and jealous person in the world aka choi yeonjun and he had responded with: "well it's not like we're doing anything."? absolutely not.

what is your fault is the fact that you still went along with it. when beomgyu told you that you both wouldn't be doing anything you knew that was bullshit. he's handsome as fuck and you're slightly attracted to him. hell yeah, something's definitely happening.

you were asleep on beomgyu's bed when you heard it. it seemed to be right next door which is why it shook you from your sleep.

it sounded like a thump, more like something backing up into the wall nearest to your head.

you roll over to inform beomgyu that something or someone was on the other side of the wall disturbing your sleep. whenever you felt even the slightest bit disturbed you knew beomgyu would not hesitate to come to your rescue.

however, when you stretched and rolled over expecting to see the boy who you thought would also be occupying the bed with you, he was nowhere to be found. you frowned immediately. beomgyu was clingy, even in his sleep he would be latching onto you so tight that it was sometimes hard for you to wake up if you needed to use the bathroom.

you don't know if he had even fallen asleep after you since you were so tired from work. it was late and he was already perched up on his bed when you arrived. he had greeted you sweetly and offered for you to take a nap on his bed.

you agreed since none of the other boys seemed to be at the dorm at the time. this was the perfect time to be close to beomgyu without yeonjun questioning it.

how you both managed to get away with it for this long was baffling, not just to you but to beomgyu. he was the one who was mostly around your boyfriend and yet he still composed himself when all three of you were in the same room.

you loved yeonjun, you love him so much it hurts but beomgyu was right there and you'd be damned if you let that go.

the thumping happened again but a bit harsher. you couldn't possibly be expected to sleep at this rate.

you got up from the bed, dragging your feet over to the room which happened to be yeonjun's room. you knocked on the door lightly hoping to get some answers but no one opened it. you heard hushed voices behind the door but that was about it.

"yeonjun? are you in there?" you heard another thump in response and then something crash. your eyes widened, now concerned you turn the door handle to see if he's ok. normally you wouldn't waltz into any of the boys rooms but hearing consistent thumping and now a crash had you concerned.

when you opened the door, what you weren't expecting to see was beomgyu on top of yeonjun on the ground with a fist to the eldest face. "what the hell are you two doing?" you run up to them and try to detach beomgyu from yeonjun. looking around, you can pretty much decipher that a fight had taken place.

yeonjun shoves beomgyu off of him and scrambles to his feet. "i saw you guys you know." he wipes his lip and nods. "you guys were in bed together i can't just let him put his hands on you like that! you're mine".

he faces beomgyu again and they're about to have at it again when you intervene once more.

"yeonjun stop," you grab his arm and make him face you. you didn't feel bad when you cheating on him but damn it why does he have to look so broken right now.

"he wasn't having his way with me or whatever, i was-," you sigh, studying his facial expression. all he does is stare at you waiting for you to continue.

"im sorry, i was cheating on you."

he steps away from you, looking between you and beomgyu in disbelief. "really?" is all he says.

you nod hesitantly, not really knowing what to say that would make the situation better. "give it up yeonjun, she didn't want you anymore that's why she came to me," beomgyu shrugs.

yeonjun clenches his fist and sends it flying towards the other boys face. beomgyu isn't fast enough to dodge it so he ends up stumbling back when he gets hit. "yeonjun what the fuck!" you grab yeonjun and pull him away and you can see the tears going down his face.

"why though..." he mumbles. he tries to go in to kiss you but you move backwards. "yeonjun look, im sorry but i just- i dont know... i guess i just wanted beomgyu too," you say without much emotion.

yeonjun lowers his head in defeat. "you wanted him? you had me though," he grits out. "well what the hell was all this then?" he motions around his room, where ironically, there are some photos of you both hung up and even some gifts you had gotten him. "huh y/n? what the fuck was all this then!?" he slides some pictures off a nearby shelf, sending them crashing onto the floor.

you step back cautiously to make sure you don't mistakenly step on the shattered glass. now there's broken glass separating you from yeonjun and it all feels a little too real to you. "yeonjun calm down!" you scold him in an attempt to get him to chill out. knowing him, it won't work though.

"calm down?" he sucks his teeth and laughs. "you want me to calm down when i gave you so much? you wasted my time!"

you flinch when he sends another picture frame to the ground along with some other miscellaneous items. you feel beomgyu snake his arm around you as some form of protection but you don't feel very protected right now.

yeonjun seems to notice this and he grows visibly angrier and more tears go streaming down his face. "get out," he says to beomgyu.

its silent for a moment as they seem to have some kind of stare off but ultimately beomgyu backs down, being over this already. "i'll be outside," he says forcibly. you watch as he narrowly avoids some glass but shoves yeonjun on the way out.

you can tell it takes everything in yeonjun not to pounce on him. when beomgyu is gone yeonjun turns back to you and sighs in frustration. "i'm so tired. i had to come home to- to this!" he pulls at his hair, unable to process what's going on.

"i said i was sorry ok? i didn't think it would be like this," you say. "what the fuck did you think it'd be like then huh? did you think you could go around being a slut with some other guy's dick up your ass without me knowing? how far did you really think you could take this?!" he starts getting angry again remembering seeing you in bed with beomgyu.

it all made sense to him now. the affectionate touches, the weird glances at practice. he should've seen it coming earlier but unfortunately, he didn't.

"i-" he cuts you off. "what? got some excuse? well, who's next y/n? who next, is it soobin? you been fucking around with soobin too??" he taunts. "yeonjun!" you step over the glass to shove his chest but he doesn't even flinch. he grabs your wrists, using whatever energy he has left to throw you on his bed.

"i hate you so much now," he says as he hovers above you. you look up at him with an apologetic gaze, deciding to stay silent in case he decides to lash out again. he suddenly chuckles, "what? do you seriously think we're gonna do something?" you look away, embarrassed that you actually had a slight anticipation that he would somehow make love to you at that moment.

he shakes his head with a bitter smile, "this isn't like the other times y/n. we usually fight then have angry sex but this isn't what's happening."

"yeonjun i really did like you," you say silently. "that's bullshit," he spits. "i can't believe anything you say and that hurts." he gets up from you, pacing around the room.

"if you really care then just leave. be with beomgyu i don't care but i don't wanna see you anymore. don't ever come around me and don't even think about interacting with me ever again," he sighs. you get up from his bed silently, hesitant about touching him or saying anything.

"bye," you mumble. "whatever," is all he says in response.

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta Mellark x Reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part four: Click here, rooroorara shooty shooty vang vang

Part five: You're right here, silly!

Part six: Click here, war criminal of 1878!

Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass

The moment the anthem finished, we were taken into custody. It's not as if we were cuffed or anything; a group of Peacekeepers simply marched us through the front door of the Justice Building.

Each year, at least one of the tributes tries to escape; I've never seen one successfully do so.

Once inside, they put me in a room. It's the most prosperous place I've been to. With a thick carpet in the ground and a weird couch made of fabric, I've never seen before.

It was a strange texture, almost like the weird fuzzy stuff in deer's antlers. My father called them velvet; was this the same thing? If so, that's a bit gross.

Despite this, I still caressed the couch; it was oddly comforting. Almost like you're patting a nearly hairless kitten. It switched from smooth to rough each time I ran my hands through it.

Then I remembered that we only had an hour to say goodbye to our loved ones before leaving for the Capitol. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in. I didn't want to cry at all; the cameras were trained on me. I'm sure the Capitol would eat my tears up.

The first people who came in were my mother and my brother. Kunal let out a sob as he ran towards me, practically throwing himself onto me. I hugged him, staying silent as he buried his face into my neck, afraid that if he let go, I would disappear.

But I needed to break it one way or another. "Mother," I called, my voice detached. Her green eyes met mine, her lips quivering. I gulped down my spit, taking another deep breath in. "Do you. . . Have any idea on how you'll support yourselves. . ?" I asked.

Her eyes landed on the thick, red carpet. "Not as of now," she answered grimly, "But Katniss' mother offered me some work at the apothecary,"

My arms around my brother tightened. Maybe Gale and Katniss could bring them some of the game as well, though I wouldn't count on it. Why would they help us when they have other things to worry about? It's not as if I could teach Nal how to hunt either. The boy's frightened by his own shadow.

All he's good for right now for picking flowers as much as I love him. A sigh escaped my lips, my chest falling slowly as the reality sunk in.

"Well, you must think of something," I told her, my brows furrowing. "I'm not going to come back; I won't be able to support you and—"

"No!" she barked, "No! You will come back, Y/n." she proclaimed, her eyes shaking. She clenched her, fists, "Swear that you will."

Bitterness rose within me. "Tell that to the Capitol, mother," I said coolly. "If I die, then I—." My words were cut short by the sobbing of my brother.

He sniffled, pulling away from my now wet neck. "You'll win, won't you?" he croaked, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his reaping clothes.

I felt my heart stop; what was I supposed to say to him? "No, Nal. I will surely die, don't count on it,"  a lump formed in my throat.

My eyes landed on my mother, who gave a stern look.  It told me to lie, if not for her sake, then for my brother's. With shaky hands, I held my brother's shoulders. "I'll make it out; then we can— gather some flowers in Victor's village, yes?" 

Nal nodded, hugging me once more. I took a deep breath before I started explaining what they should do. With mother possibly getting a job at the apothecary, perhaps they have a  chance to survive, after all. Though I'm not sure, that's such a pleasant thought with the fact that I will die. 

Soon enough, a Peacekeeper was at the door, telling them their time was up. I gave Nal a hard squeeze before pushing him off. My mother nodded at me; her strawberry blonde hair bounced as she did so. "I love you both," 

The words were stuck in my throat; I couldn't say them. Maybe it was because of my strained relationship with my mother or because I hated the fact that I had just given my brother a false sense of hope. I simply watched as they walked away, hand in hand. 

Nal's watery blue eyes looked back at me one last time, a look of sadness. He knew I was lying. I sounded unconvinced when I told him. My posture slumped; I felt horrible. Our maker is siis merely, I suppose.

The next visitor was unexpected; Peeta's father, the baker. My gut churned; I was off to kill his son soon. Why has he come to visit me? Perhaps he has come to beg me not to kill his son? Not that I could either way, Peeta was stronger than me: it was clear as day.

He handed me a small piece of parchment. It was filled with warm cookies. A delicacy. He must've visited his son; after all, why would he just me cookies? I was about to die anyway; why feed a dead man?

I let out a huge breath, "How was the squirrel?" my voice pierced through the thick silence. He shrugged, "Alright," he answered. Then another wave of silence hit us. I sniffed awkwardly, the scent of fresh bread entering my lungs. 

I couldn't think of anything to say. What was I supposed to do? ApoloApologisebe, but I never really liked apoloapologisingee no need to. If I'm sorry, then I'll show it. We sat in awkward silence before the Peacekeepers told him his time was up. He stood up, clearing his throat.

"I'll keep an eye on the little boy, make sure he's eating," He stated before leaving. I felt the pressure lift from my chest. They may not like me much, but Nal was practically an angel to them. An angel born in a family of rebels, I'm guessing, is their thoughts.

The next guest then entered. Madge. Her expression wasn't weepy nor evasive, nor did she wear that bright smile she always had when she was around me. It looked urgent. She walked straight to me, the urgency in her tone quite surprising, "They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home, will you wear this?" she holds out a circular gold pin that was on her dress earlier.

My brows furrowed, "Your pin?' I said. Does she really to die wearing rich-people-things? That hasn't even crossed my mind. . . 

"I'll put it on your tunic, alright?" She said, not waiting for my answer as she leaned in and fixed the bird on my chest. "Promise me you'll wear it to the arena, Y/n. Promise me," She took my hand, her thumbs rubbing the back of my own.

Compared to Peeta's, hers was cold yet soft, almost as if she was nervous, worried. But why would she? I barely talk to her; she's the one who always strikes a conversation. All I do is nod and disagree at certain times. 

She leaned closer to my face; I gave her an uncertain smile, pulling away. "Thank you, Madge," I muttered. She nodded, letting go of my hands. "Please, stay safe," her voice trembled as she rushed out of the room. I was left standing there, confused. What was that? Why did she visit me despite my rudeness earlier?

Next was Gale and Katniss. I didn't hesitate to hug both of them before pulling away with a sigh. "Hey, you'll be fine," Gale reassured, patting my shoulder. I stayed silent, only nodding. Katniss gave me a pity smile, "I'm sure it would be fairly easy to get knives, Y/n."

A sigh left my mouth, "I know— I just— Don't want to—" I stammered, making a stabbing motion with my hand. Gale gave me a pitied look, "It's just like hunting, Y/n. You're the best hunter we know," he said.

"They're not animals. They think; they're armed."  I reasoned, my voice trembling. Why did I have to feel these emotions now? Maybe reality has finally settled in, the truth that I'll never see any of these faces again. On the off chance that I do, I'm sure they'll view me differently, a cold-blooded murderer.

"What's the difference, reale said grimly. Those words echoed in my head as they went away with the Peacekeepers. What is the difference? We're all just feral dogs forced to fight or cocks pit against each other.

I took a deep breath as I got called to ride a wagon to the train station. It was a relatively short ride. We never really had the luxury of these; we always had to travel by foot.  

I silently thanked myself for not crying; there were insect-like cameras trained onto my face. Thankfully, I knew how to act, to bite my tongue. If I hadn't, I'd probably be screaming profanities. My eyes glanced onto the television screen; I look bored. Which, I surprisingly was.

It was as if my spirit left me already.

Peeta Mellark, on the other hand, had obviously been crying. However, he didn't even try to hide it, which was quite odd. Was this his strategy? To appear weak and vulnerable to assure the other tributes that he was no threat? This worked for a girl from district 7. Johanna Mason.

She seemed frightened, a cowardly fool that no one bothered about her until only a handful left. She then killed them all, with no problem whatsoever. I remember watching this game, quite shocked. She sold her act to me, but then again, maybe I'm just oblivious.

This worked for her because she looked frail, weak. Peeta applying this strategy was quite odd. Not only did he not look soft, but he was also jacked. He just looked like a big doofus. All those years having bread to eat and hauling trays made him physically capable.

Annoyance rose through me when we had to stand by the train's entrance while cameras gobbled out images up. I was sure I no longer looked bored but rather pissed. It wasn't like I was about to put on a pretty smile for them. These jester-dressed-worms should know how I feel.

Finally, we boarded, and the train began to move at once. The speed took my breath away. It was going faster than I could ever think of. The scenery around us just blurred—a mix of the neutral colour palette that made up District 12. 

We were taught about coal in school. Some basic maths and reading before it circled back to coal again. Our district was used for coal mining, even hundreds of years ago.

Then there are the weekly lectures about the history of Panem, which never fails to annoy me. It's all blather about how we owe the Capitol because of the rebellion and whatnot.

I knew they're hiding something; we couldn't have lost that easily. I always think about this whenever I'm up in the trees, daydreaming, which is why I'm always the last one to arrive at the hill.

The tribute train was much fancier than the room at the Justice building. We were given our own rooms, a dressing area and private bathroom with cold and hot running water. We've never really had hot water readily available at home; we had to boil it.

Though I can't say, I like it, with all that effort I just end up not liking the bath. I much prefer the cold, flowing current of a river.

There are drawers filled with fine clothes, and Effie Trinket told me to do anything I want, wear anything I want, everything is at my disposal. Just be ready for supper in an hour. I peel off my father’s tunic and take a cold shower. I’ve never had a shower before. It’s like being in the rain, inky much tamer. I dress in a dark green shirt and pants, trying my hair to the usual, small pa

At the last minute, I remember Madge’s little gold pin. For the first time, I get a good look at it. It’s as if someone fashioned a small golden bird and then attached a ring around it. The bird is connected to the ring only by its wingtips. I suddenly recognise it—a Mockingjay.

Funny little birds, my favourite creature in the forests, that's for sure. These were a slap to the Capitol's face. They genetically altered animals as weapons. Muttations as we call them, or Mutts for short. One particular kind was a bird they labelled Jabberjay, able to memorise and repeat whole human conversations.

Homing birds, exclusively male that were released into regions where the Capitol’s enemies were known to be hiding. After the birds gathered words, they’d fly back to centres to be recorded. It took people a while to realise what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted. Then, of course, the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the centres were shut down, and the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild.

But they didn't die; instead, they mated with the female mocking birds and produced this weird species that can replicate both bird whistles and human melodies. They've lost the ability to enunciated words but could still mimic a range of human vocal cords.

My father used to sing them a lot. I guess he passed that habit down to me. Whenever I'm not doing anything, I find myself singing to the hummingbirds, who surprisingly listen and replicate my Father's song. It was a simple melody, made of 10 notes at least.

It warmed by heart, especially at times where I miss him. I smiled, fastening the pin to my shirt, the dark green as its background.

Effie came to collect me. I followed her through a narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room. There's a table where all the dishes are highly breakable. There waiting for us was Peeta Mellark, the chair beside him empty.

"Where's Haymitch?" Asked Effie Trinket brightly.

"Last time I saw him he said he was going to take a nap," said Peeta. "Well, it’s been an exhausting day," said Effie Trinket. I think she’s relieved by Haymitch’s absence, and who can blame her?

Food came in courses. Though I barely touched the carrot soup, the chocolate cake, lamb chops nor the mashed potatoes. I wasn't going to eat this, not from the Capitol.

My jaw clenched as Effie told me to eat up, smiling brightly at me. I gave her a pained smile, slowly taking a bite of the lamb on my plate before swallowing it roughly.

A swirl of guilt formed in my stomach, was I eating really this luxurious food whilst Nal and mother struggle? I sighed, digging my nails into my palms.

Peeta looked at me oddly as he stuffed his face, he nudged my side and nodded towards the food. I simply shook my head, pushing the plate away.

Effie put her lips together at my stubbornness. She was muttering something about having no manners.

We go to another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. They try to stagger them throughout the day so a person could conceivably watch the whole thing live, but only people in the Capitol could really do that since none of them has to attend reapings themselves.

One by one, we see the other reapings, the names called, the volunteers stepping forward or, more often, not. We examine the faces of the kids who will be in our competition. A few stand out in my mind.

A monstrous boy who lunges forward to volunteer from District 2. A fox-faced girl with sleek red hair from District 5. A boy with a crippled foot from District 10. And most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old girl from District 11. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that, she’s very like Nal in size and demeanour. Only when she mounts the stage and task for volunteers, all you can hear is the wind whistling through the decrepit buildings around her. There’s no one willing to take her place.

Last of all, District twelve. It showed Nal getting called and me volunteering. The commentators weren't sure about what to say regarding the silence. I only smirked at this, crossing my legs in amusement. Just in time, Haymitch fell from the stage, earning a comical groan from the commentators.

Peeta silently took his place on the stage; we shook hands and then just cut to the anthem.

Effie Trinket is disgruntled about the state her wig was in. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behaviour."

Unexpectedly, Peeta laughed. "He was drunk." He said. "He's drunk every year."

"Everyday," I added, finally breaking my silence streak with a smirk. Effie makes it sound kike Haymitch just had rough manners that could easily be dealt with.

"Yes," She hissed "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Just then, Haymitch staggers into the compartment. "I miss supper?" he slurred. Then he vomits all over the expensive carpet and falls in a mess.

"So laugh away!" said Effie Trinket. And so I did, I barked out mocking laughter as she hopped in her pointy shoes around the pool of vomit and fled the room.

Word count: 2974

Tags:

@nin3s

[hoodoo12]

Elegy (4/6)

These two’ll be the death of me, @clairjohnson . . . Home again, home again, jiggity jig, even if that home is a tomb. Despite drunkenness, something unexpected occurs.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

@turtlepated @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beejiesbitch @janitor-boy @angelicspaceprince @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice `

If she hadn’t been so focused on keeping him upright his words would have knocked her down. Maria had heard this man flirt a hundred times over, but nothing ever so flattering and eloquent. The most beautiful. Her stomach twisted at the compliment. Both unbelievably flattered and heartbroken all at once. Had he always thought this? Or had he really just gone overboard with the drinks tonight? 

She was about to respond, to express how completely touched she was by his words, when he started to talk again. Beej’s announcement of their arrival, and subsequent stumble, snapped her out of her thoughts. When had they gotten here? She hadn’t even realized they’d gone through a door. 

Didn’t matter. The Netherworld was a strange place, Betelgeuse was strange, it was easier just to accept things as they were. What was harder to accept, however, was his home. It was practically barren, save for a bed, table, and wooden chair. The only light in the room came from a few scattered candles that revealed debris strewn across his old wooden floor.

It looked like a crypt. It might be a crypt. 

“This is where you stay?” she asked, unable to hide the shock in her voice. Her place was hardly a palace, but it was clean. Bright. She couldn’t imagine ever spending a night here. Let alone however many hundreds of years he’d been dead. The mere concept made her chest tighten in pity. 

“Let’s get you over to the bed . . .”

"Gives me incentive to get top side," he muttered half under his breath at her blurted question. "Who cares anyway? I close my eyes and it's gone. I don't see it. No one else does either." 

She hadn't taken her arm from around his waist. With her continued assistance, he shuffled over towards his bed. The distance wasn't far, but as if to help bolster the fact his place was more fleabag hotel than the Ritz-Carlton, his foot caught a stack of Handbooks for the Recently Deceased--how did those get there? It couldn't be that he'd stolen them from recently deceased in order to con them--

--and he stumbled. The four walls around them did a looping dance. Automatically his grip over her shoulders tightened even as his other hand went for the rusty iron foot rail on his bed. He managed to remain upright, but had jerked her along with him. 

As he recaught his balance, the room settled back into place. 

She'd been close while walking with him, but there'd still been a detachment. He'd managed to scatter that with his ham-fisted, foolish misstep; Maria had been pulled right to him. 

With a jerky, unnatural movement, he lifted his arm off her. 

"Sorry," he apologized.

Top side. She and others, including Juno, had wondered for decades how he’d manage to find ways to the world of the living. There were rules. Passes you needed to apply for - but he, in normal Betelgeuse fashion, skirted by it all. 

She was about to snap back at his flippant comment when he tripped over what appeared to be a pile of handbooks. Maria reminded herself to inquire on those later. Thankfully Beej caught himself on the bed, saving them both from falling face first on the wood floor. In his effort to stay balanced the arm around her shoulder moved forward, effectively pulling her into his chest. One arm still wrapped around his waist, the other now flat on his chest, she peered up at him with embarrassment. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he was sturdy, and she felt unusually small pressed against him. 

When he detached himself with a slurred apology Maria took in a shaky breath she didn’t need then helped him sit down on the bed. God, he looked so disheveled - more so than usual. His eyes were heavy, shoulders slumped, and his tie was loosened and askew around his neck. 

Without waiting for permission Maria slipped the loose tie up and over his head and hung it gently on the foot rail. Turning back she hesitated, just for a second, before helping him slip his jacket off. She ran her hands over his shoulders and under the jacket, sliding it down his arms. The beauty queen reached around him, leaning in close, and retrieved the jacket and reunited it with his tie. 

“From what I can see of your bed I doubt you take these off when you sleep.” She crouched down and angled his large black boots for him to see. “However, I can’t bring myself to see you place these nasty things on the mattress.”

Some quick finger work on the laces and a few short tugs had both boots off. She placed them neatly at the foot of his bed. Maria brushed some questionable dirt off her hands and returned to the older man, giving him a satisfied once over. Gently, she pressed on his shoulder for him to lay down. 

“Get some rest, Alborotador. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around again soon.”

He felt loose, like his joints had been separated. Maria's gentle guidance around the end of his bed to the side and helping him sit was appreciated, but that was nothing compared to her carefully removing his tie. At some point it'd become loosened, or even in his inebriated state he'd have slapped her hands away. Nobody touched his neck, that was a rule. But she was quick and efficient and the fabric never touched his skin. That would've been enough, but then, but then-- 

She assisted him out of his jacket. Any other time he'd have made some off-color comment or pushed the flirting so hard it would have bordered on desperate. But muddled by the booze and still feeling the deep ache of rejection from those people in goddamned Connecticut, just to have her be attentive, just to have her hands peel him out of his outerwear-- 

A small sigh slipped past his lips. If she heard it, she ignored it.  

Then she didn't leave well enough alone; she actually crouched in front of him in her cocktail dress and heels--everything about her was in stark contrast to the rat's nest he lived in, and he included himself in that melancholy assessment; he should have never brought her here--and worked the laces of his boots loose and pulled them off his feet.

The care and concern pained him. The simple act of touch took him apart. 

When she took his shoulder he almost moaned. Like a man dying of thirst in a desert, he wanted nothing more than to drink in that simple friendly touch. 

It took all his will power to not grab her hand. Not for anything inappropriate, but just to keep it there, so he could soak it in. Instead, he sat dumb and dull as she straightened her skirt and bid him farewell. 

"Why does everyone keep leaving me?" he whispered. There had been a time very recently he'd bellowed that, but here, all he could expend the effort on was something closer to a whimper.

Maria had started to make her way out of the room when he spoke, the sound of his broken voice pulling at her more than the words themselves. Not that the words didn't catch her attention, and in many ways, hurt her. He was drunk, she reminded herself, and sad. She could stay with him a little longer - just until he was unconscious, she already crossed a line by being here, and basically sprinted past said line when she helped him undress. 

"I'm not leaving you," Maria corrected while she walked back over to the bed. "I was just going home. I have no illusions that you won't be darkening my waiting room doorstep again soon." 

Gently, she sat down on the bed beside him, her leg brushing up against his own. 

"Now lay down. Go on." She pushed at him again, moving out of the way for him to lift his legs up. The beauty queen stayed seated beside him, her torso twisted slightly to look down at him while she spoke. 

"If anyone left, it was you, Beej." The words were soft and sad, and she reached out absently to adjust a crease in his white(ish) button up. "Got yourself in so much trouble that Juno had to fire you - and then you were gone. Disappeared like smoke for years, only to show back up in the waiting room looking pissed." 

Maria had been so relieved, and so unbelievably angry to see him after all that time. It was that absence, that complete cut from communication, that had brought her back to calling him Mr. Betelgeuse - a title she already found herself skipping again in favor of his nickname.

Maria appeared at his side again, and blearily he looked up at her. Her nudge wasn't rough but he was so unsteady it was almost enough to topple him. He managed to not just fall back like a drunk--haha--but only just barely. 

Her words came to him as if through cotton wool. Disorganized thoughts moved lazily inside his head; it was so much easier to be angry than this drunken, dazed state he was in. The fact that the beauty queen had even given him the time of day was almost too much to take and much too much to even try and puzzle out. 

In the reaches of his memory he did recall how upset she'd been to see him again, and her cool reception to him ever since the final incident that sent him packing--that he'd designed for at least the chance for freedom. Tonight was the first time in all the times he'd reappear she'd ever done anything more than nod politely and exchange chilly words. 

As she sat primly, lightly beside him, the bed frame buckled. It didn't startle him, he was more than used to it, but he could imagine the surprise on her face as the mattress sagged her closer to him. Her delicate attention to his shirt made him catch her hand. 

"Come here," he croaked out, before clearing his throat, giving her a half-hearted pull. "I gotta tell you something."

The unexpected dipping of the mattress when he laid back surprised her, and she ended up with her back pressed against his side. Maria might have just fallen on top of him, if he hadn’t grabbed the hand that had been adjusting his shirt. 

Deep brown eyes assessed him curiously at the request. He was quite capable of saying whatever it was he needed to say from where she sat now - but the pull of sympathy was still strong. Without a word Maria leaned down to him, her free hand bracing her body on the mattress next to his. Being this close, even closer than when she was helping him walk home, she could pick up the smell of moss and wet dirt that clung to his clothes and skin. There was also the faintest smell of roses - so subtle that she could have second guessed if it was there at all.

She did as requested, and leaned over him. A stray lock of hair escaped from its careful pinning, and tickled his cheek. Maybe if things between them had been different, maybe if he hadn't fucked everything over in that spectacular way that was apparently his specialty, he'd have permission to brush it back. To lift it and settle it behind her ear. A minor but intimate gesture. 

But he didn't. He let her hair stay where it was, because it was also nice to feel it on his skin. 

Now that he had her there, he was at a loss for words. Lots of things flitted through his head: "You deserve better than me." "I missed you." "Wanna go see Saturn? I know a safe place--" 

In the end, he frowned a little as he focused on her features. She was so close everything was blurred; he didn't think it was because of the alcohol. Why in the ever-loving hell did she put up with him? 

"Thank you," he whispered.

There was a long silence while his eyes searched her face. Maria could tell he was considering something - and the fact that it was taking him this much time started to worry her. Why? She wasn’t sure. 

At this distance she was able to get a good look at his face. It was round and scruffy, and strangely complimented by his Roman nose. Even in his current, sullen state his lips still had an upturned curl to them. She’d always liked his lips.

 Her attention was taken away from his face when he spoke, and she smiled at him in response. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Blame it on the alcohol, on their proximity, on the raw vulnerability he’d shown her - but without having time to process her actions, her face closed the distance with his. The kiss was soft, and her lips barely pressed against his own. 

It took only a few seconds for what she had done to register, and when it sunk in, she pulled back. Not all the way, but enough to give him a dazed, almost apologetic look. She hadn’t planned to do that, would have sworn up and down that she would never be kissing Betelgeuse right up until the moment she did. Maria started to sit up a little more and opened her mouth to speak, but had no idea what to say.

The brush of her lips against his was a shock that wasn't dulled by alcohol. 

His hand automatically went up to touch her, to slip to her jaw to keep her close, but the split second that it took for him to try she pulled back again. But the motion was in place; although he missed keeping her where she was, his fingers touched the junction of neck and shoulder. 

There was nothing more important in his existence than tasting her lipstick again. 

Eyes wide, his tongue swiping his bottom lip in a move he didn't give conscious thought to, Beetlejuice breathed out, "Mi hermosa emperatriz Maria . . ." 

With a little additional pressure from his hand he encouraged her back towards him as he surged up to her.

tbc . . .

[sokkascroptop]

More Than Friends (sokka x f!reader)

A/N: Here's a lovely little one-shot written for Nina's (@fromthewatertribe) 1K challenge!! This is technically a modern! AU with a female reader but if one was to think that this Y/N is the same Y/N from Traitor I wouldn't stop you ;)

Years ago… not literally since this blog is like 3 months old, but Like Way Back When I Started writing Traitor, someone mentioned a Modern AU… and I wrote like, a full outline for it… fully not expecting to do anything with it. Well, today is the day. Here you have it, Sokka x Y/N modern au, but like only just a stitch of it since I might want to go somewhere with this eventually. I am purposefully leaving out the explicit content that I wrote for ✨reasons✨

When you come home from work and you notice your front door is unlocked and you know for a fact that you locked it before leaving for work, a normal person’s first thought would be to call the police. Y/N was not a normal person.

She turned the doorknob to her and Katara’s apartment as quietly as she could. As she stepped inside she peered around the living room. No one. Without looking away she felt along the wall for the softball bat she kept propped just inside the door. 

“It’s for protection, Katara!” She would always say whenever Katara opened the door a bit too far and sent the bat sliding down the wall to clang against the hardwoods. Katara hated that bat. Y/N, in the moment, loved it. 

Y/N slowly started creeping towards the hallway that led to her bedroom and bathroom, but a sudden noise from the kitchen startled her. She backtracked and stood just outside the doorway, the bat hefted in the air, ready to roll heads in a moment’s notice. 

She jumped when she heard another noise, like metal scraping on metal, followed by someone singing quietly under their breath. What kind of robber does that?!

“Whoever is in there, I have a bat and I’m not afraid to use it!” Y/N yelled. 

She heard a laugh and then a head peeked around the corner. Sokka smiled at her defensive stance. “Still thinking about using it?”

Y/N let out a heavy sigh of relief and dropped her arms, letting the top of the bat hit the floor. She could feel the pounding of her heart slow. “Why do you do this to me?” 

Sokka frowned and held up a spatula. “I am literally making you food. Don’t be snotty.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she rushed forward. “What are you making me? I don’t smell anything.” She stood on her tiptoes to look over Sokka’s shoulder.

Sokka placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed her back down to flat-feet. “I just started. Patience. Go shower or something and I’ll be done when you get back.” He turned her around and gave her a gentle push out of the kitchen.

“What would I do without you?” Y/N asked over her shoulder. 

She was met with a very exasperated groan. “Well apparently, neither you or Katara would ever eat. There was nothing in your fridge!”

Y/N hid a giggle behind her hand as she walked to the bathroom. It was true, she and Katara lived on take-out most of the time.

---

Y/N did what Sokka told her to and took her time in the shower, letting the warm water relax her tense muscles. Between classes and work, she barely had any time to do anything; cooking and showers longer than five minutes included. 

The food was even better than she had hoped; she tried to remember the last time she had a meal that wasn’t from a box or off a take-out menu. 

“It was alright,” Y/N shrugged as she licked the edge of her spoon and set her empty bowl on the center table. She leaned back on the couch and wrapped her blanket tighter around her shoulders. 

Sokka scoffed. “I can tell since you practically licked the bowl clean.”

Y/N leaned forward and grabbed the tv remote. “Shut it,” she murmured with a smile. “You could have eaten some too you know.”

“Nah, I put the leftovers in the fridge for you and Katara tomorrow. I can’t be here cooking every night.”

“Why not? I’d like that.”

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Of course you would, you’re obsessed with me.”

Y/N scoffed. “You were the one who let himself into my apartment to make me dinner. Sounds like you’re obsessed with me! Do I need to revoke your key?”

“That’s it. I’m taking the leftovers and leaving.” Sokka made to stand but Y/N wrapped her hands around his bicep. 

“Can you stay for a bit? I wanna watch something scary and I can’t do that by myself.” 

Sokka snuggled in next to her under the blanket. “Sure thing.” 

---

It was about halfway through the movie when the exhaustion of the day hit her. Y/N slid down further on the couch and rested her cheek against Sokka’s shoulder.

“You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?” Sokka murmured, just louder than the tv. 

“I’m just preparing to hide my face is all.” 

At that, Sokka lifted his arm and she slid under it and pressed her cheek against his chest. She was warm and content and she definitely could have fallen asleep had the music of the movie not begun to change. It was something faster-paced and anxiety inducing. 

Much like she anticipated, the next scene made her gasp in fear and jump half-way into Sokka’s lap. 

Sokka chuckled. “Are you okay?” His hands settled on her hips, holding her close. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, of course. I’m not even scared.”

“Do we need to get your bat? For protection from the clown on the television?” Sokka’s hands didn’t move from her, in fact Y/N was sure they tightened when she began to move away. So she stopped.

Y/N felt a little breathless. Probably just from the scary movie. 

“Maybe. You think it’ll help?” There was a stillness in the air between them and Y/N realized how close they had gotten in the moment. 

“Yeah, I think you can take him,” Sokka whispered. His words were meant to be banter but it didn’t feel like it anymore, not with the way Sokka was looking at her with eyes that were so dark they looked like the night sky. 

Y/N leaned in first. She was drawn towards him like a magnet. She had lost all self control and for the first time Y/N just wanted to know what he tasted like.

The second their lips connected, Y/N waited for Sokka to move away. To detach himself from her and push the blanket away and make some excuse about how he had to be up early and let himself out. So she was all the more pleased when he didn’t.

The kiss was slow and chaste and hesitant as if both of them were waiting for the other’s revulsion. But it never came. 

One second, Y/N was high in the clouds and the next she was standing and pacing in the middle of the living room, the movie in the background long forgotten.

“Oh my spirits, Sokka!”

“What? It wasn’t bad, was it?” The smirk on his face was clear. This was not a one-sided thing. 

Y/N’s thoughts swirled in her head. Was she missing something? Because unless she was hallucinating, Sokka definitely just kissed her back and then acted like it was normal for two best friends to do that.

It didn’t matter what she was thinking, her mouth answered for her. “Well, no but–” 

Sokka’s smile widened and Y/N blushed. 

He reached out and grabbed her hand. “That’s great, let’s do it again.”

“But you’re my best friend! And Katara!” Y/N’s head felt it was going to explode. “Katara is my best friend too!” 

She twisted her hand around, not pulling away but sliding their fingers to interlock them. She sat back down on the couch, trying to remember where she was before. Was she too close now? Too far away? She didn’t want to send the wrong message. What was the right message?

He smiled knowingly at her. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Of course I know that...”

Sokka was slowly pulling her closer to him with the grip on her hand and Y/N was completely letting him. 

This time when they kissed, she could feel him smiling against her lips. Not that Y/N wasn’t doing the same thing. Sokka! Her brain screamed. She was actually kissing Sokka and she liked it!

Y/N pulled away and let out a little giggle. She didn’t even have time to ask him what they were doing when Sokka pulled her back in for another kiss. 

“Stop moving away from me,” He murmured. His thumb traced her jawline and the other hand was on her thigh.Y/N’s heart raced as she began to wonder how far this was going to go.

All thoughts were quickly dashed as Y/N parted her lips and Sokka slipped his tongue inside. She grabbed his wrists and pushed his hands off of her. 

Sokka jerked away suddenly, his face a mask of horror, clearly concerned that somewhere he had crossed the line. However, Y/N was thinking the opposite. Maybe he hadn’t quite gone far enough. 

She climbed over his legs to straddle him and pressed his hands into the back of the couch. Sokka’s eyes widened and Y/N gave a little shrug before she kissed the corner of his mouth. She trailed down his jawline and neck, placing soft kisses along the way. She stopped at his collarbone, leaving a love bite that made Sokka groan. 

Y/N let go his hands to take out his ponytail because she just wanted to run her fingers through his hair like she knew he liked. Sokka took that opportunity to grab her waist and pull her closer, as if they weren’t already flush against each other.

They were kissing again, hard, as if this was the only thing left in the world. Sokka’s teeth clacked painfully against hers but it didn’t stop either of them. They just needed to be closer. Just them. Together. Sokka’s hands roamed over her body, never stopping in once place for too long, like he was trying to make up for lost time that he wasn’t able to touch her in this way.

Y/N broke away even though every muscle in her body told her not to and sat back on Sokka’s thighs. Sokka swiped a thumb over her bottom lip and Y/N grinned.

She shook her head in disbelief as she tried to wrap her mind around the last few minutes. Her fingers traced over his cheekbones and jaw as she tried to memorize this feeling of pleasure and excitement in one. She needed to remember the look in Sokka’s eyes in case this never happened again.

“How did we get here?” She asked softly. 

“I think it was a long time coming.” Sokka mirrored the smile on her face.

“Yeah?” 

“We’re more than friends and you know it. Always have been.”

“Well, I wish you would have said something sooner,” Y/N pouted. “We could have been doing this a long time ago.”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 35

First

Previous

Next

~~~

She let Robin turn in the criminal for two different reasons. The main one was the fact that her suit was falling apart by the second and the only reason it hadn’t disappeared already was she was pouring her own energy into maintaining it. The other reason was that the sight of the man made her feel sick; she couldn’t look at him without remembering exactly what she’d done, how he’d looked, and how it made her feel in the moment.

She clenched her fists tightly, letting her nails dig into her gloves as she ducked into an alley.

She brought her hand to her ear.

��Me and Robin are leaving patrols for the night,” she said. Her voice was much harsher than she’d intended. Maybe that was why no one argued.

“Robin and I,” corrected Nightwing.

She took a deep breath, ready to curse him out despite the apparent rule against cursing, but Robin cut her off before she could say anything: “Not the time, Nightwing.”

“Definitely not. I’m behind the building, come find me.”

“What happ --,” began Red Hood, but she turned off her comm.

She let her costume drop.

Tikki fell from her earrings and Marinette had to dive across concrete to catch her. Her elbows and knees were scratched and bleeding, but she couldn’t care as she examined the kwami.

Tikki wasn’t moving.

She felt tears well in the corners of her eyes and she forced them back. Robin would be there soon. She didn’t have the right to cry when he had just --.

A hand rested on her shoulder and she looked up to see him.

She sniffled and gently set Tikki in her bag. She pushed herself to her feet and took him by the arm, dragging him through the streets.

It was a bad idea to go out like this. No one knew who Marinette Dupain-Cheng was, but from the amount of people snapping pictures of her she would be pretty well-known by the end of the week. She found she couldn’t care less.

“What’re we doing?” He asked quietly.

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” she muttered, her grip tightening on his arm.

He didn’t respond, just allowed her to pull him along.

She got to her apartment and practically tossed him inside, slamming the door behind them.

Plagg was sitting on the bed and she rolled her eyes at his disapproving look. The kwami opened his mouth but she beat him to it: “Don’t. Not right now. Just get the ring.”

Robin eyed the god and Marinette, as if he wasn’t yet sure which one he was supposed to be more wary of. She didn’t know if she wanted to take that as a compliment or an insult.

The kwami dropped the ring in her hand and it pulsed with power. A blinding green light emanated from the tiny ring, and both humans had to shield their eyes a little.

She forced it into Robin’s hand before it could mess with her. Having both the ladybug and cat miraculi on hand at the same time was known to corrupt event the most pleasant and mentally stable people. She already had committed a murder. Who knows what she would do.

He frowned as he toyed with the ring. As they watched, the white plastic ring morphed into what looked to be industrial steel.

Marinette smiled tensely. “Congrats, ‘Robin’, you’re now the owner of the cat miraculous.”

Robin tipped his head to the side as he considered it, then shook his head slightly. “I don’t want it.”

“Too bad,” she said. Oh, there was that harsh tone again.

He winced.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What you did was absolutely stupid and reckless and, unfortunately, that seems to be the main two necessities for getting the cat miraculous.”

Robin raised his eyebrows and set the ring down. “Marinette, I know --.”

“Don’t ‘Marinette’ me! You were dead!”

“And why do you care? I thought you hated me!”

She groaned. “So did I, really. But apparently not! I never react like that! Apparently I care about you, who knew?”

He frowned. “React like what?”

Right. He hadn’t been alive to see what she’d done. She swallowed thickly. “It doesn’t matter.”

He looked like he was going to protest, but she didn’t let him get a word in.

“What does matter is that you’re doing stupid things that are getting you dangerously hurt -- for no real reason, mind you -- and if you’re going to do that then I may as well make sure you’re protected.”

“It’s fine, your yoyo brings everything back to status quo at the end anyways --.”

“Not anymore it doesn’t!”

His eyes widened.

“I need an active cat to maintain balance, and since I’ve been using Tikki for a month now without one, I’m pretty weak. I wasn’t even sure if I could...” She sighed. “I didn’t know if I could do it this time, and now...”

She pulled Tikki from her bag and let him see the kwami, who was still completely immobile.

Plagg darted to the other kwami and took him from Marinette’s grip, sending his guardian a glare as he carried her to the fridge to try and force Tikki to eat.

“But you shouldn’t have been relying on my ability to fix it anyways. It only fixes physical damages, but mental and emotional ones can’t just be taken away.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I figured that one out for myself, thanks.”

She winced. Not at what he’d said, but at how he’d said it. The slight tremble of his voice, the way his eyes finally looked away from hers for the first time that night, the clenching of his fists. She walked over and, hesitantly, wrapped him in a hug.

He tensed up. “Um...?”

“Just let me have this, please,” she mumbled.

Robin nodded slightly and rested his arms around her.

She concentrated on her breathing. She had a lot of experience dodging negative emotions from her years of fighting Hawkmoth in Paris, she knew strategies to keep them in check. Usually this meant that all she had to do was distract herself. This would be fine.

Or, at least, it would have been if she hadn’t felt Robin bury his face in her hair.

A sob built in her throat as she tugged him closer. She blinked rapidly in an attempt to push her tears back. He was the one in trouble, he was the one who needed help, he...

Was crying.

Her own tears forced themselves to be known. She pressed her face into his chest, bunching up his costume in her hands.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that; leaning into each other, sobbing over their shared experience, holding onto each other like their lives depended on it. But, eventually, she ran out of tears. Eventually, she felt him relax into her and begin to sleep.

Marinette gently detached herself and set him in her bed. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and went to drink some water. After a bit of considering it, she walked over and set some stuff out on the nightstand and wrote a note.

She sat down at the bedside, leaning against it and closing her eyes.

~

She opened her eyes to shifting behind her and looked over blearily.

Damian was crying silently, his hands covering his mouth to stifle the noise.

She hesitated, unsure if he’d want her help. Still, she reached up and rested her hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze.

He stiffened slightly, then relaxed a bit. They sat there in silence for a while. Him crying, her staring off as she tried her hardest to push the events of the previous night from her mind.

“Marinette?” He whispered. “Are you awake?”

“No,” she mumbled sarcastically.

He gave a laugh, broken and sad as it was. “Right... I’m going to head home.”

“You sure? You don’t want me here to help?”

He rested his hand over hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “I have a dog. Besides, this is your bed.”

She didn’t bother to argue. She knew he was scrambling for an excuse to leave, and she wasn’t going to keep him. You can’t force someone to open up to others, it’ll only make them clam up more. So, she pushed herself to her feet and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Okay. Give them a pet for me.”

He gave her a small smile before heading out.

~

Damian smiled awkwardly at her, waving.

The bags under his eyes were extremely prominent and she frowned at the sight of them. Marinette was used to getting only a few hours, but Damian (for the most part) seemed to find time to sleep.

“How’re you feeling?”

“A little better,” he murmured. “And you?”

She winced at the lie on her lips and forced her mouth closed before she could dismiss the question like she wanted to. He seemed to understand anyways.

He reached over and gave her arm a small squeeze.

She looked away. “Does your family...?”

“No, they don’t know. And they won’t. Ever.”

Marinette didn’t know whether this was a good thing. Despite how much she hated it, she knew they should be leaning on others after what had happened the previous night. Still, the idea of telling someone what she’d seen, what she’d done, so soon was enough to make her breath catch in her throat.

She nodded to say she understood and changed the subject: “So, did Plagg explain everything to you?”

"Yep.”

“And?”

He seemed hesitant. “I think I’ll try it. It’s coming time for a new Robin, anyways.”

She nodded and reached into her pocket and pulled out the ring. She’d wrapped it in layer after layer of fabric to make sure she wasn’t tempted, but now it was going to be hard to get it out.

After a bit of digging, Marinette handed over the ring.

He slipped it on his finger.

“Plagg, claws out.”

With a bright flash of light he stood in front of her. She raised an eyebrow at the costume, which was exactly the same as his normal Robin one but this time in black.

“Creative.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, giving her shoulder a shove.

She grinned. “Right, I’m explaining everything to you myself, because Chat Noir had no clue first day even when Plagg tried to help.”

She was going to get lectured about that when Plagg got out, but until then she smiled and tapped the wall of the building.

“This is an abandoned warehouse. I checked to make sure there wasn’t any kids or Rogues, it’s completely empty. Cataclysm it.”

He looked at her like she was insane.

She sighed. “Listen, you’re too powerful right now, especially for a newbie.” She motioned to his costume. “I couldn’t get details in my outfit for about a year, and yet yours is pretty much fully-formed.”

“I’m powerful, so what?”

“It’s not good. If you used cataclysm on something small who knows what would happen. I’d prefer to stop that disaster before it happened.”

He frowned slightly. “But, if that’s the case, shouldn’t we be teaching me to control my powers?”

“We can when you’ve gotten most of the extra stuff out. Right now we’re avoiding a disaster. Sound good?”

He hesitated, his eyes finding their way to the building. “Who does this belong to?”

“It’s completely abandoned, said to be haunted because a guy died there. Legal fees made it shut down, and the people who owned it have been trying to sell it since. If you really care we can reimburse them however much they offered, but really it’s whatever.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re acting different.”

“Shocker!”

He winced and looked away.

“Sorry. I’m trying, it’s just...” She clenched her fists. “Yesterday was a lot. Doesn’t mean I can take it out on people. Especially not you.”

He nodded softly and raised a hand. “Cataclysm.”

She stepped away from the building to make sure she’d be fine and he pressed his hand to it.

It was gone in seconds. There was no gradual rusting, no time for it to spread. It simply collapsed into dust.

She looked at Damian and smiled faintly at the sight of his costume. It was fading rapidly, until it was back to the suit Cat Noir had used originally.

“Good. Now, we should get you used to your weapon...”

~~~

You know the last chapter was actually supposed to be just fluff of Marinette and Damian bonding but then I thought ‘naaah ive written too much fluff recently’

so like

my bad guys

~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes

<3

[the-melting-world]

The Empress | Side B: “Evergreen”

Art by @markmefistov

~ In which a humble gardener goes on a retreat…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Muriel 

Track Origins: “Evergreen” by Ben Howard

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: The Empress

cw: none

~ 1.2k words

Ozy tries to talk to Kipling about the past, but she isn’t ready to have that conversation with him yet. She flees and manages to locate Nadia and Asra. Asra leads an overwhelmed Kipling somewhere private and Nadia stays with Ozy. After talking it over with Asra, Kipling decides that she needs some time away from Ozy to process everything. 

Kipling entered that pocket of stillness where everything was, is, and will always be. She floated there, wishing she didn’t have to leave, but knowing that nothing was forever. She heard the nature that existed all around her. The birds, the rustling of the leaves, the wind. And at the same time, she heard nothing.

Kipling was not meditating in her shop. Nor was she in her garden. In fact, she was far from the shop. Far from Asra, Nadia… and Ozy.

An abrupt scuffle and familiar chirping broke her stillness.

Taro, please stop harassing the chickens.

Usually, the words would fly right out Kipling’s mouth without a second thought. But she was still coming out of the daze of the meditation. So while she acknowledged that Taro was being annoying, she wasn’t quick to snap about it. Instead, she stood up and gently scooped Taro into her arms. She walked slowly back to Muriel’s hut, pondering on everything that had been bringing her stress lately. But now that her mind was clear, these thoughts didn’t make her so emotional. 

Kipling suspected that in her absence, Ozy had filled Asra and Nadia in on what had happened that made Kipling leave for Vesuvia. Kip dimly wondered what Asra would think of her for breaking Ozy’s nose and leaving him behind a year later. Kip didn’t expect Asra to hold something like that against her the same way Ozy hadn’t. But it still made her cringe every time she looked back on that moment. Kipling barely recognized that girl and not only that, but she didn’t want to have anything to do with her either.

Muriel was outside crouching by the rest of the chickens when Kipling approached him. He looked in her direction, his mossy green eyes and gentle expression steadying the storm that threatened to build inside her.

“How was meditation?” He asked with genuine interest. Kip knelt down beside him and pulled a chicken into her lap.

“The session went well, but it was cut short.”

She shot a pointed, but teasing glare at Taro on her shoulder. Muriel smiled and reached up to scratch behind Taro’s ear.

“Are you hungry? I made lentil soup with a little rice.”

Suddenly realizing how hollow her stomach felt, Kipling made an enthusiastic sound. Muriel looked like he wanted to say something else, but he hesitated. Kip let the chicken go.

“Muri?”

He swiftly stood up, helping to her feet as he did. Kip would never stop being in awe of the way he balanced his immense strength with such gentleness and care.

Still holding Kip’s hands, Muriel said, “I was hoping to give you a reading. I haven’t done one in a while and would like the practice.” He briefly scanned his modest hut. “Not sure why, but I don’t get a lot of visitors.”

Kip felt the tension leave her shoulders. She allowed herself a soft laugh. The thought of a reading made her uneasy, but she trusted Muriel would help guide her through it.

“Okay. But only a single card reading. And only after we eat!”

Muriel’s tentative smile was back. He said no more as he led Kip by the hand, the chickens eagerly crowding around their heels.

After Kip and Muriel’s insides were warm with lentils and their mouths zinging with herbs and lemon, they sat down before Muriel’s hearth with his own personal deck. Between sporadic tutorials from Asra and Kipling over the years, Muriel had become fairly comfortable in the readings he did with his friends.

After he had Kipling cut the deck, he pulled a card and studied it first before laying it down before her.

“The Empress. Reversed.”

Kipling felt an unexpected lump form in her throat as she stared down at the woman relaxing on the throne. She had a wreath of flowers adorning her head much like a crown. Ivy, ferns, and wet floral life encapsulated her world. There was no question that she lorded over it all. She had everything she could ever want. Additionally, she would never stop creating the things she desired.

But reversed… it gave the illusion that the Empress was set to tumble out from her throne.

“Is there something you feel you might be neglecting?” Muriel asked, straight to the point this time.

Kipling kept her eyes on the card. She nodded as Ozy’s face came to mind.

Muriel probed a little more before letting her speak. “This thing that you’ve been neglecting… is it possible that it’s something that you want?”

Kip sighed. “Ozy and I, we had a rocky start, but we used to be so close. He was more than a friend to me. He was family.” Her hands curled into fists. “But I let my emotions get the best of me and messed all that up. I want Ozy and I to go back to what we had, but I just can’t see that happening. I don’t deserve it, Muri.”

He reached out and found her hand. Held it while she pulled herself together. When Kip’s breathing had steadied once more, Muriel said, “The Empress in this position also points to dependence, and over-reliance sometimes to the brink of smothering.”

Kip met his gaze. Muriel didn’t shy away from her defensive expression like he might have in the past. Rather he dragged his thumb over the back of her hand, as if to reinforce the fact that his candor was only meant to help.

“If you take so much energy away from reconnecting with Ozy, it has to go somewhere, right? Think about it. Is there something or someone you’re depending on a little too much? Something you keep returning to in order to stay distracted?”

Kip broke eye contact with Muriel, but she took a good look at herself and confessed. The gardener hadn’t once stopped thinking about Khleo since Ozy showed up. She only thought about Doors and going through them as means to get to Khleo. The meditation today wasn’t just a means to detach herself from her guilt with Ozy, but also her obsession with finding a way back to her best friend.

At this point, Kipling did not even fear the lioness guarding Khleo. Kip would find a way, she must find a way around it.

“Kip?”

The look in Muriel’s eyes suggested that this reading didn’t go as well as he planned. Kipling plastered on a smile and squeezed his hand one last time before letting it go.

“Thank you, Muriel. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She stood up. “I’ll be in the garden if you need me.”

Over the rest of the afternoon, Kip picked from the lemongrass plant she kept in Muriel’s garden, washed and separated the bundles so he would have fresh tea to last him throughout the week. She watched Taro play some more with the chickens. In the evening, she sat by the hearth and wrote some poems while Muriel whittled and carved figurines. Kip ended up writing a little poem for him that she slipped under one of his carvings on the mantle when he wasn’t looking.

The day had been slow and languid. The perfect retreat and exactly what Kipling needed. But it had left her very tired. She fell asleep in front of the hearth long before Muriel called it a night. He gave up most of his furs for her and tucked her in while she was already dreaming of Doors.

[the-darklings]

Not gonna lie, Lucien grabbed me by the throat since the first attack on V and then my heart by the sewers scene ;; if you have time, could you mayhabs give us Luci stans a lil something with V? 👀

nature of doubt.

⤫ notes: so this is actually based in that original world I keep alluding to post-coa and uh,, Lucien and V actually have a very different relationship here (tho this piece isn’t considered entirely canon for them, either) and you’re getting a backseat into that relationship. Lucien/Reader is established here - more or less, considering how he is.

⤫ pairing: lucien x f!reader (+clara (oc!v)

⤫ word count: 4.4k+

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Your feet halt sharply at the sound of those words, startled into an acute silence.

The night hums around you, and you lean against the side of the greenhouse, peering through the blur of the glass. Humid heat keeps you warm from the night chill and you slow your breaths in order to hear better. You’ve come up to the terrace because you couldn’t sleep for the life of you, caught in your turbulent thoughts as you were.

Lucien being back should make you happy but something is different this time. You’ve kissed him and hugged the moment he came close enough to touch, and that might have led to a long and strenuous session in your shared bed. Bites and kisses and nails against the skin—just him, raw and passionate, and…

He always comes back from his disappearances with an appetite of a starved man—cruel, dangerous, prowling thing. Always dancing on that line of pain and pleasure. Never pushing more than you ask but there had been a strange detachment this time, a drift you know he felt as well.

Something, this time, felt emptier than usual. For both of you.

Coming up here so late has been more about getting some fresh air to clear your mind and get rid of that gnawing, traitorous whisper of soft brown hair. Hazel eyes and shoulder against yours when you replanted one of hundred plants in her greenhouse.

And it’s because of that, that you recognise the owner of that low, smooth feminine voice that speaks.

“Doing what?”

Of course, it’s him. Of course, the two most nocturnal members of the Pit of Vipers are the ones you have managed to stumble upon.

Instincts scream at once. They’re beyond dangerous individually much less together, and if they caught you spying they might be angry. Disappointed. That thought sits like curdled milk inside your stomach, tart and bitter.

Still. There is something that moves your body. Some need, a draw.

Leaning over the edge of the greenhouse, you spot the shadowed figures of Clara and Lucien. The latter stands with his back to you, his wispy blonde hair loose in the wind, a mess from your running your fingers through it earlier. Hungry. You had been just as hungry and just as needy for his touch.

Yet for some reason it…

It hadn’t been the same.

You love him so much, you do, and you think that maybe—just maybe—there is something inside his chest too. A small, fond thing you so rarely catch glimpses of but know is there.

Clara, on other hand, stands with her arms crossed over her chest, one side of her face bathed with terrace lights. It cuts a terrible, steely line—one dark, one light; and you suppose that’s only right too.

She’s tense though, her stare set as she drills holes into the side of Lucien’s pale head.

You know full well that is a terrifying position to be in. Her stare is downright chilling on a good day. Even more so when she’s angry. It’s made worse, you think, by the fact that she has a face that looks like it should be smiling. It’s a face made for kindness.

She hasn’t smiled once since you’ve met her. It stings more because you know she used to. Noah told you as much once; a sad, thoughtful expression crumpling his sharp, friendly features with sorrow.

Not since him.

The one no one speaks of openly, and certainly not Clara herself. A man with glaciers in his eyes, and tar-black heart.

“Disappearing like you do,” she says flatly, a fine lace of irritation in her voice.

Lucien clicks his tongue, shaking his head in amusement. “It’s what I’ve always done,” he returns dismissively. And you know that it’s an answer that will not go down well. He disappeared for so long you were starting to doubt he would ever return. Clara, since then, had been even more solitary and distant. You’ve always thought that Lucien needed her more than she needed him but this disappearance has proven different. “How is this time any different?”

She doesn't respond right away. It’s as if considering his question, wondering if he actually means those words and you swallow.

You shouldn't be here.

This is a private conversation and yet…

You’ve been just as disappointed by his actions. And you know that if you asked he would not answer.

He answers to no one but her—his leader, the only one he trusts and has chosen—and perhaps that’s the only way for you to get a glimpse into him as well. Find out where his head is at.

It was not so long ago that their bond used to make you jealous and insecure. A tiny part of you still has doubts—it’s hard not to, not with the looks they share, the mute acceptance between them, the way you sometimes just find them sitting together, shoulder to shoulder—but ever since Lucien’s last disappearance something has changed.

“You were gone for months,” she states briskly, her voice icy, and a shiver races down your spine hearing it. She doesn’t raise her voice. It’s smooth, controlled; a pleasant, ordinary string of words. She stands there, and simply looks at him, and it’s terrible somehow. “Even Step couldn’t find you. I couldn’t find you,” she adds after a slight pause, the tiniest of catches in her voice.

You’ve heard that catch a handful of times in the past. Mostly in the shadowed greenery of her greenhouse. Where you sometimes found the viper curled up and resting, hiding away from the world. You’ve tried sitting by her like Lucien sometimes does. It made you feel special, near euphoric the first time she allowed you to hold her hand in silent comfort. The first time she leaned her head on your shoulder.

The way she had sagged against you—atlas on her shoulders, expression fragile, soft—had stuck with you for a long time. So long, you can’t help but see it now.  

This is the first fracture you’ve seen in her demeanour in weeks though. She’s so controlled for how Lucien is untamed. But demons that stir under the Viper’s skin might be worse than his and somehow…

That thought is as thrilling as it is terrifying.  

The blonde doesn’t take much note of her words. Still staring out towards the twinkling New York streets. “Yes, I imagine it was rather annoying for him,” he says, deliberately avoiding her softer admission, an open fear. “Such a pity.”

It's wrong to say. Right now when every muscle in Clara’s body seems to have gone so taut with tension she bristles. Then, follows fire.

It thickens the air and even some distance away, hugged and hidden away by the shadows, you can feel something volatile bubbling in the air between them. It becomes near suffocating the longer Lucien remains impassive and disinterested in their conversation.

You’ve never seen him show fear, but perhaps, this once, he’s aiming for someone who can remind him of the feeling.

He knows it, too, you conclude when his head finally turns in her direction.

“I do it for you,” he snarls lowly, practically spitting the words, his grip on the railing tightening. “If I didn’t leave, I would skin your loyal little snakies and give you their skins as a present. By the time I came back to myself, it would already be too late, and you would hate me for taking them away from you. You would kill me for it, and maybe I would let you.”

Your heart slams into your throat at his calm, chillingly logical explanation.

You knew—to some degree—that him leaving was about protecting others as much as it was about allowing Lucien that room to roam. It’s hard to feel trapped, tied down, to something when you’ve spent years being treated as no better than an animal.

It makes you value that freedom just that much more.  

Your lungs burn yet you feel too afraid to inhale lest you miss her reply.

The woman is silent for a leaden, disturbing moment and you feel your heartbeat accelerate the longer she remains quiet.

“Do you really think you mean so little to me?” comes her chilling whisper of a question and goosebumps tickle across the length of your arms. “That I would kill you?”

She laughs but it’s an unpleasant, cold thing that makes you think of a viper circling her prey and Lucien’s chin tilts at the challenge, at the mocking tilt of her inquiry. “You may act like you don’t care for them but could you really kill them? Just like that?” she demands, her tone sharpening as if she’s wielding one of her blades. “Kill her?”

Your heart thuds; once, twice.

You’re not sure what you feel more surprised at.

The fact that she’s pushing or that she sounds so furious at the mere prospect.

It’s them, you remind yourself hurriedly, ignoring the flush of heat you feel in response to the honeyed, poisonous edge you catch in her words, not what she’s saying.

Yet it feels like a weak argument even in your own mind.  

Lucien pushes back from the railing, clenching his fingers experimentally, humming lightly under his breath before offering his verdict, “I won’t even hesitate.”

“You’re lying.”

It’s sharp, and immediate dismissal. So knowing that you don’t even doubt the call out because she knows him better than anyone. They’re two beasts snapping jaws and snarling and it makes for a beautiful sight. Captivating despite the danger. 

The terror you should feel around them doesn’t come. That should probably concern you more. You’re not helpless but getting even more tangled with these people is a death sentence.

Lucien steps closer to the leader of the Vipers, and it’s only then that you notice that his white shirt is still unbuttoned. His skin often feels cold to the touch but he’s never once complained about it. The pale canvas of his flesh is marred by scars and faint bruises alike. You’ve tasted them, traced them with your tongue just a few hours ago—so even though you can’t see them clearly, you know they’re there.

“Funny thing. Lies. Like you lie to yourself daily, I imagine, hm?” Lucien’s voice slices through the night air, fills it, stretches it into something even tenser. “You walk around like you want to destroy everything in your path yet you still hold yourself back,” he spits knowingly, his voice slipping into harshness, and his eyes narrow, inspecting the woman before him intently. “He still clings to you and you let him. Still love him.”

He spits the word love out so hatefully you nearly flinch. Like no bigger crime could be committed against him.

His throat grows tense, tendons trembling, and in that moment he looks near feral. Livid.

Because she’s in pain, you think sadly, and he wasn’t there for her, and now she carries it.

It saddens you.

“You have no right,” it’s a warning, a hiss of a statement.

Lucien comes undone in a span of a second.

His arm snaps out, locking behind the slim curve of her neck, his fingers sinking into the nape. He doesn’t drag her forward, he drags himself to her. She lets him, and that surprises you more. She watches him from beneath her heavy, quietly furious brow, silent.

“I have every right!” he fires back, his stare brimming, and he briefly presses their foreheads together but his next words are cruel, “When we crawled out of that filth it was you and me. And then you let some fucker steal you. Do this to you.”

She rips out of his grip with speed that’s a blur, her teeth flashing, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have abandoned me!”

Pain in her voice is like a whip against your skin and heart. They rip into you, linger under your skin. Is that how she felt? All this time. Alone. With no one to turn to.

It...

“You know that’s rich, Lucien,” she continues, her voice a low growl. “You really think I don’t see how you are with (Name)? Did you really assume you could hide something like that from me?”

Your gut coils at her tone. She sounds...small.

And then her words…

Oh.

Oh.

She must think…

Does she feel like Lucien is replacing her with you? It’s true that you have bonded and grown closer together but…

God, doesn’t she realise no one could come even close to her for Lucien? You’ve accepted their bond long ago though it took time and a lot of battling insecurities that still crop up to do so.

It’s startling to realise that she has even more of those. That beneath a woman who has carved her way into power with such ruthless efficiency is still, at the end of the day, just human. Capable of wounds and bleeding. Doubts and diffidence. It gives her a different light, a human light, one that makes you want to hold her hand again. Feel the fold of her long fingers around yours.

“Ah, my pretty girl,” Lucien begins, sighing softly, his voice silky with tendrils of desire, hunger. So he’s concluded the same, then. Based on his sudden change in topic. “She’s a greedy thing. I see how she watches you, too. A heart so eager and big she doesn’t know what to do with it. So eager to give...and take,” he purrs, his tongue wetting his lips, and you choke down a breath at the memory of that searing tongue on your body. “At least I can say that about her. Can you say the same about your spider?”

You suck in a breath, holding it in your lungs, wide-eyed and unsteady.

Why is he goading her like this? Does this truly get under his skin so much? No—you know it does. Lucien has a greediness of a child who never got toys or enough food growing up. Eager hands and darker eyes. Constantly clawing for more, claiming everything he touches and hoarding it, ready to bite and snarl at any hand that tries to take his things away from him.

He’s considered her his own long before he even knew you. That same silent burn of mine, mine, mine rages in his gaze every time he looks at either of you.

“Do not speak of him, Lucien,” this time her voice is soft, deceptively so, a fragment of a warning that’s the last second of stillness before a viper strikes. “This is the only warning I will give you,” she adds.

Lucien’s head shakes. “Wipe him away,” he warns in return, his voice ice. “Do it, Clara, because if he destroys you, I will scatter his remains across this Earth. He will know agony long before I grant him death. Let her in.”

This time your heart jumps straight to your throat and stays there, beating and trembling, trying to flutter away.

“She’s not a thing for you to decide what to do with.”

There’s an edge to her voice, to her stance. They’re both tense, their shoulders taut as they glare at one another.

You’ve never seen them fight before. Not once. The fact that you’re the topic of their conversation…

Lucien snorts, shaking his head back and forth. “I’m only stating what you noticed long ago,” he says knowingly. “What my pretty girl wants even if she won’t admit it to herself yet,” a pause, and he licks his lips again, his head turning to stare right into the darkness, into the spot where you’re standing, “Isn’t that right, my brave foolish girl?”

Your muscles stiffen with shock. Your flee instincts scream at you to get away but you only stare at them numbly.

Clara doesn’t look surprised by his words, either. Did she know too? This whole time? Then why let you listen to this. Why—

“Don’t be shy,” he coaxes, his voice beguiling and gentle; a dangerous purr. “Come on out.”

You shouldn’t.

They’re…

Too much, too dangerous—you called them a death sentence only minutes prior, and you know you’re right.

Yet you step onto the terrace and straight into the jaws of two awaiting snakes who watch your every step with rapt intensity.

It’s an effort to keep your steps steady and spine straight. Under their stares, you become intimately aware of every stitch of clothing on you. Namely the fact that you’re in nothing but loose V-shirt and worn sweatpants, having pulled on the first thing on hand before departing your room in restless haste.

The intensity of their regard makes you feel like you’re naked, however.

Gulping a quiet breath you try to ignore the way Lucien traces the dip of your collarbone where a love bite is still visible. He sucked on the skin relentlessly, following that with a scattering of open-mouthed kisses, soothing the twinge of the ache.

“I…” you try and sigh. “Sorry. It was rude of me to listen. I…”

Your voice fades when Lucien steps towards you, his footsteps inaudible but purposeful. Same hunched shouldered, tense prowl of a gait, his arm encircling your waist the moment he’s close enough. You lean into his touch despite your wariness, your breath tickling against his exposed skin but over his narrow shoulder, you can’t help but watch Clara.

Dark jumper, messy braid over her shoulder, and sunken cheeks. Tired smudges sit under her eyes, her stare empty, and she looks…

Sad.

There is no particular expression on her face—she’s not that obvious, and he taught her well, you suppose—but the air around her seems to be teeming with some melancholic ache.

Lucien’s mouth brushes over your ear, nipping once, and you expect a shiver of shame or embarrassment to flood through you but it doesn’t. It doesn’t feel wrong to have her witness these things, to watch Lucien’s rare show of intimacy so closely.

The argument between them seems to be forgotten, for now, all of you caught in your own spells. Lucien’s mouth drags downwards, his teeth scraping against the hollow of your throat and you gasp softly.

The sound seems to snap Clara out of her daze, and her expression tightens in a blink. You still can’t get over how pale and tired she looks. Worn. Everything about her seems to be muted today. It’s then that you also recall that you haven’t seen her the whole day. When you asked Hector he had only barked a harsh she’s busy and you had retreated after that, noting his foul mood—more so than usual.

Why?

You try to think if this day holds some sort of significance and—

Oh, oh, oh.

It must be today.

Your stomach sinks at the realisation. So hard and suddenly the sensation of Lucien’s mouth fades just for a second. Because just like that the man’s return also makes sense. He returned so he would be here just in case she needs him.

Two years since the night she was taken in Tokyo.

There must be so much turmoil in her today. No wonder you haven’t seen her out and about and now, out here, in the private space between them, her guard has worn far quicker than usual.

Lucien presses you flush against him and hums a pleased sound when you sigh at the feeling of his lips skimming over your jaw. His head tilts then, staring at Clara over his shoulder.

“You’ve made your point,” she snips the moment he does, her voice throaty.

She stalks past you both, her jaw set and lips pressed to a hard line. Your actions are instinct alone.

Your fingers wrap around her wrist, partially jerking from Lucien’s hold to catch her in your grip. Last time you’ve done something like this she flinched and yanked her arm away with a heated glare. This time she freezes, tensing, but doesn’t pull out of your hold. Her steady, strong pulse beats against your palm and you inhale at the contact.

Last time you touched her had been when she told you her real name.

Clara, Clara, Clara.

With her hands knuckle deep in a pot, a smear of dirt across the freckled nose, and near content look in her eyes. You know she never demands. Yet each member chooses to cement their loyalty to the Pit in their own time and on their own terms. Once the snake tattoo marks their skin, it’s forever. In return, Clara gives them her own name—the ultimate sign of acceptance.

You don’t have a snake tattoo. Yet she had given you her name still. She had noted your startled expression before it morphed and bloomed into a bright grin. That seemed to have startled her more.

When you had hugged her—breathing her in, absorbing her warmth, and savouring the comfort that comes with such simple affection—she had stood there, not moving. It took her several minutes to fully relax, melt into you with a sigh so gentle you barely felt it.

Now, your hand is on her skin again, even if circumstances are so different.

“Don’t go,” you say, fighting back the urge to tug her towards you. “Stay.”

Lucien shifts around you—another snake coiling—but he’s waiting and watching. Almost vibrating with energy you have no name for. Arm around your waist, hand resting lightly on your lower stomach, but you feel his stare digging into her.

He’s eager to see how she will react.

This. This feels right.

Lucien at your side and you holding onto her. A unit, a chain of energy. A thrill rushes through your hand and right to your heart at that conclusion; hot and fierce.

Those dark eyes peer at you, and there is something in her gaze—maybe longing, maybe regret—but it blows out like a candle in a stiff breeze.

Her stare goes to Lucien briefly and she tugs her wrist free. Your expression falls the moment cool night air kisses your palm instead.

Clara turns and disappears down the staircase. Her room is on this floor, just below the terrace and you listen to her fading footsteps. The disappointment you feel stings, bubbles in your chest and you pull your hand back, folding your fingers into a loose fist.

Lucien hisses under his breath, displeased, muttering something in French. His nails scratch against your stomach as he pulls his hand away.

“Why did you do that?” you demand quietly.

A soft breath and quick, hard kiss against your head, his fingers sinking into your shoulder.

“Because I will not let her run anymore,” he mutters coldly, and it carries through the night air, making you shiver.

Turning in his hold, you stare at him.  

“Have you two ever…”

He reads into your meaning without you having to force the words out. You’re immensely grateful for it.

“No.”

Your throat aches but you still wonder, “Kissed?”

“Yes. Once,” blunt and straightforward as always. For once, you find yourself appreciating that. “We both thought we were going to die, and neither of us wanted our last memory to be of rotting in pain and alone. Our humanity stripped away.”

You step out of his embrace, mulling that over. You can’t even begin to imagine what that would be like. Feeling that level of desperation. That lack of hope and despair. That kiss had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with comfort, with a need to cling to something so ordinary yet human in what they perceived to be their last moments alive.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” you finally ask, your words soft, thoughtful. “When she was taken. That’s why you came back. Because you knew she would need you,” you add knowingly, staring up at him.

Lucien stares back at you wordlessly. He doesn’t need to waste his breath and verbalize it for you to know you’re right.  

“She needs us both,” he concludes and there is no room for argument in that statement—for him, it's an absolute, a known fact. “She’s just too wrapped up in him to realise that.”

Him. It always comes back to him.  

The seething rage lingers in Lucien’s soft words, practically spat, certainly damning. Yet you never expected him to be as accepting of this as he has been.

“Why aren’t you mad?” you wonder, watching his profile, the dips of his skin illuminated by the artificial lights. In this moment he’s a wraith, a spirit, a restless ghost. “At the thought that I might…”

Do feel something for a woman you shouldn’t. Did that make you selfish? You often felt selfish for simply wanting Lucien. For hoping that one day he will be able to make peace with his demons and stay with you.

You can’t help but wonder if the woman who reminds you of a beautiful, haunted house could ever, possibly, let her demons go too.

Could...could she feel the same?

Your blood warms at the thought, your mind cycling through every moment shared with her over these last several months. Combing them for any signs and...

“Why would I be, pretty girl?” he retorts with a tsk and a cutting glance. He reaches out, fingers caressing the length of your chin. “I have no intention of choosing, you’re capable of loving us both I know that, and she needs to learn happiness again.”

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut, savouring the contact. There is that greediness in his hold when he drags you to him. You follow. This time there is new conflict but the energy between you seems to be back, settled. Pressing your forehead against his bare collar, you shiver at how cold he feels to the touch but feel happy at this return.

The missing piece finally has a name.  

“What did he do to her?” you mumble against his skin, so desperate to understand what no one is willing to share with you.

You want Clara to tell you herself, one day, but until she’s ready, if ever...

Lucien's voice is dark and low, barely audible when he answers, “He made her love him.”

You doubt anyone can make someone love another person. Not really. But now can’t help but wonder if Lucien feels like that man stole the Clara he knew—Clara that smiled—away from him and that’s what boils his blood. Something that he considered his own was taken from him and he was powerless to stop it.

“And did he love her back?”

He was a fool if he didn’t.

Lucien is quiet for a long, long time after that question, and you feel him staring out towards the twinkling skyline.

“There is a reason why he’s still alive.” 

. . .

an: yeah, little to no context and I don’t really expect anyone to read this or care but if you did and happen to enjoy it thank you very much for giving it a chance! love you guys lots. this was written a solid month back so discord gang this is familiar to you lot *wiggles eyebrows*  

[i-rely-on-you]

Hey could you write a prompt about Farah and Saul worrying about their daughter who goes off with the winx?

Thank you so much for this wonderful promt! I took some liberties with this so I hope my anon likes it anyways ;-)

Happy Valentines folks

Home

It wasn’t like Farah to be clingy. It wasn’t a word that you would usually associate with her.  

But ever since her daughter was born things had changed. She had changed.  

It had been a little over 7 months ago now that they had welcomed a new light into their lives.  

When Farah had first found out she was pregnant she had been shocked to say the least. Pregnancies at her age were quite rare even in their world. For humans even more so than fairies. They didn’t differ that much physiologically speaking but it did happen from time to time.  

So the shock at finding out had been great. A million different thoughts started flying through her head at once. The most pressing one being “I have to tell Saul.” And so without the slightest bit of hesitation she went out to find him in the middle of a training session.  

The look on her face had him on high alert in an instant and he gave over to Sky to continue with training in his place.  

Mutely Farah had taken Sauls arm to steer him in the direction of her office where they could talk more privately.  

Upon reaching the confines of her office she locked the door behind them and strategically placed herself in the middle of the room. Close enough for him to touch but also far enough away to leave room for him to bolt if he felt the need. Not that she thought he would do that but she wanted to leave all options open and not suffocate him with their situation.  

He looked at her and followed her movements with his eyes attentively. “You’re kinda scaring me here Farah. What is going on?” He gave her a small smile to encourage her to talk to him.  

Which she did.  

“I’m pregnant.”

She couldn’t exactly describe the look on his face as she said it because the emotions that crossed his face in the time span of 4 seconds were overwhelming. His face lit up with a smile so bright one second she thought it would split his face in two and the next he wrinkled up his forehead in confusion and concern while already taking a step towards her. There was no hesitation on his part in touching her arm as he took in her coiled stance.

Stooping down a fraction to look into her eyes he whispered “Are you okay?” and put a hand to her cheek, stroking her skin delicately.

Of all the things she had expected him to say, this hadn’t been one of them. She had expected him to ask wether she was sure or for how long she’d known. Or maybe even outright express concern at her age and the dangers this would bring with it.

But not that.  

Scolding herself internally she shook her head at her foolishness of even having thought of him saying such things. This was Saul for Christ’s sake. Her partner of more than three decades. Of course he wouldn’t ask such stupid things.

Taking the shake of her head as a negative to his question he got even more worried and placed is other hand fully on her side, pressing closer. The hand on her face grasping her cheek a little more firmly. Looking deeply concerned he was practically begging her to talk to him with his stormy grey orbs. Tears of worry pooling in the corners of his eyes.  

The onslaught of emotions catching her off guard she had to put her hand out on his chest to steady herself.  

“I’m fine. We’re fine Saul.” At this the man holding her let out a deep breath sagging with relief. He took her face in both his hands and looked at her with a sheepish smile on his lips. “Why would you scare me like this woman.” his exhale hitting her face like a cool breeze startling her out of her stupor.  

“I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me. It is just so much to take in.” With this she let out a puff of air herself in relief touching her forehead to his grasping at his lapels to get closer to him.  

Humming in reply he kissed her forehead softly before looking into her eyes again. He took one of her hands and rested them on his chest.  

To say he looked ecstatic would’ve been an understatement. The man looked positively out of his mind with glee when he proceeded to let his hands glide down to her sides to stroke her stomach through her dress with his thumbs. She followed his eyes. Looking down at herself in wonder she began to smile herself.  

Sucking in a small breath she looked at his thumbs rubbing soft circles into the material of her dress barely enough pressure to feel it. “I was almost ready to leave for my classes today when I felt her.” She mused quietly. “It came so suddenly I was confused at first but then…” she trailed off.  

Grinning he looked up into her eyes again before startling all of the sudden, “Wait.” he wondered looking down and up again in one fast movement fixing her with a stare. “Her?” he choked out.  

Nodding she felt tears gathering in her own eyes at the look of pure joy on his face. In one swift motion he had his arms around her and had picked her up in a crushing hug. Startled the fairy wound her arms around his neck to steady herself and threw her head back laughing at his antics. “Yes Saul. Her.” she said once the world stopped spinning and she could look at his face again.  

Setting her down again softly but still holding her so close, chest to chest breathing hard, her feet barely touching the floor he marvelled “We’re gonna have a little girl?” his breath stocking, choked up with emotion.  

Nodding she took his face in her own hands now and kissed him softly. Melting into the kiss Saul and Farah just revelled in the moment letting time pass without consequence. Just holding each other close. Breathing each other in.  

They could talk about everything else later but for now they had all they needed in this world. They had each other and this little life they created between them.  

Everything else could wait. They could worry about the rest of the world later.  

Which brought her to her current predicament.  

Worry.  

Well maybe worry was a bit too strong a word to use in their situation. But she couldn’t help it. She was being clingy with their daughter and there was no fault in that either seeing as Saul was just as bad as she was with letting their daughter out of their sight.  

The school was out for the day and Farah hadn’t settled back into her teaching position fully yet. She just helped a few students out here and there to control their magic, gave advice and tried to do as much as possible without actually teaching. She avoided being away from her little girl currently pressed to her chest as much as she could.  

Sitting here in the small stuffed alcove in the courtyard, holding her little baby close, Saul sitting right next to her having an arm wound around her back, Farah had to contemplate giving the very attentive child over to Blooms waiting arms.  

“Please please just for a second? I just want to introduce her to the fun she’ll be up to with us when she’s a little older. I swear we’ll be right over there.” the young fire fairy said while pointing over to where Musa, Aisha, Stella and Terra were standing waving at them.  

At hearing the fun bit Farah had lifted an eyebrow and fixed her with an expectant glare while tilting her head a little in the direction of the young woman.  

Rushing to explain her pupil put out her hands in explanation “Nothing dangerous fun of course! You know I would never let anything happen to her. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister.” with that she grew slightly more solemn in her demeanour but not less motivated. Like she just needed to clarify the fact that Farah and her little family of three had grown closer to her in a way that only found family could.  

Farah knew that Bloom had grown to be more to her than just a pupil too. She considered her to be more than just a surrogate or a student. She had adopted her into her heart in all ways but on paper.

Her pregnancy had only brought them closer. She loved the girl like she were her own.  

Looking over at Saul, Farah waited for the nod she knew was coming from her smiling partner and rested her eyes back on the fire fairy in front of her.  

Changing her grip on the infant, Farah detached herself from her daughter and handed her over as carefully as possible. Blooms face betraying her absolute joy at being able to hold her little surrogate sister, stuck out her tongue in concentration as she took a hold of the baby and settled her into her arms with an almost practiced ease.  

Cooing at the baby in her arms, Bloom spoke to her softly, “Hello beautiful! How about we say hi to our friends huh?” bending her face down to be at a level with the infants beautiful grey eyes she continued to chatter to her while already having started to march over to her little ragtag group of friends.  

With that they were off to the other side of the courtyard not even 15 metres away.  

Letting out a small sigh, Farah settled more deeply into Sauls side. His arms coming around her more fully now holding her to him lovingly. Nuzzling her neck he murmured “She’s a good kid.” never taking his eyes off her daughter as she was being shown around her group of friends. Everyone making silly faces at her as they went.

Nodding slightly “I know.” Farah answered softly. Still having her eyes on her daughter she murmured “I will never stop worrying though.” softly enough for Saul to hear.

Nodding into her neck he placed a soft kiss on her skin just above her collar bone before fixing his gaze on their daughter again. She seemed content as she gurgled words nobody could understand while happily petting Bloom on the cheeks with her chubby little hands.  

Bloom had taken the hand of their little baby girl in one of hers and was rocking her around softly as if dancing. The little fairy sitting on her hip loving the movement. Musa being the ever prepared pupil had pulled out a tiny bluetooth speaker that was playing a peppy pop song on low volume sitting on a nearby balustrade.  

Soon all of the four young women were dancing around with their little ray of sunshine gurgling and screeching in delight in their middle. It was a sight to see.  

Watching the kids having so much fun made Farah immeasurably happy and Saul loved seeing her like this. Alight with joy and pride for her children. One of blood and one of choice.  

Life was good they decided. For once in their lifetime they loved living.  

This was home. There was no other place like it.  

fin

@chibsytelford

[blackteaandbones]

The promised renewal celebration fic is here!

Thank you to Anon for this prompt:

“Ava doesn’t know how to tie her shoes so she keeps tripping over them and hurting herself and Mary doesn’t have the patience to teach her how to tie them so she enlists Beatrice“

I took a few liberties, but I hope you like it! :)

Set in a universe where no one ever left Cat’s cradle and everything was fine forever.

“Over, Under... then what?”

The knock came just as Beatrice was putting aside her book for the night; marking her place with a well-worn black ribbon before setting it on her nightstand. She was quite certain there was a special Hell set aside for people who dog-eared their pages. She had learned the hard way that books leant to Mary were best forgotten. It wasn't that she meant to destroy them, but Mary took great care with exactly two things; her shotgun, and her other shotgun.

“Who's there?” This late in the evening the candidates were slim, so Beatrice wasn't surprised when it was Ava's voice that floated through the door.

“It's Ava, can I come in?”

Beatrice bit her lip. On the one hand, Ava was the very definition of one of His lost little lambs, and shepherding was very much within Beatrice's job description. On the other, it had been a long day already, and Ava was rarely restful. Rather the opposite in fact. That was not however, an observation Beatrice had any intentions of investigating further.

“Just a moment.”

She slipped a simple black cotton robe on over her nightdress and opened the door just far enough for Ava to duck inside. “It's late...” she cautioned her. “Mother Superion takes curfew very seriously.”

“I know, I know!” In a baggy t-shirt and worn-looking sleep shorts that must have come out of the donation bin, Ava looked even more frazzled than usual. She was clutching a box and practically vibrating in place, her brown eyes wide in that shamelessly plaintive Help me! stare that never failed to cut straight through a decade of carefully cultivated detachment and stab Beatrice right in the heart.

It was embarrassingly effective.

“What can I do to help?” Offering assistance was, of course, a foregone conclusion. She'd known that before she opened the door.

“Here!” Ava shoved the box into her hands.

Beatrice took it with a frown and opened the lid. It was... running shoes? “I don't understand.”

“It's all Lilith's fault!”

That was... not illuminating. “Explain.”

“Ugh!” Ava threw herself down flat on the bed, arms wide in the drama of utter defeat. “Lillith invited  me to go running with her,” she said to the ceiling.

That explained the shoes, if not the problem. Beatrice fit the lid in under the box and sat down at Ava's hip; legs crossed, the box in her lap. “That sounds like progress.”

“It's so much progress! She even gave me a compliment today.” She flailed her way upright again, folding her long legs underneath her in an awkward flourish. “A compliment, Bea!”

Beatrice deliberately ignored both the knee now knocking into hers and the casual way the  new nickname had fallen from Ava's lips. As if that was just something they did. Knees and nicknames. Completely lost now, she prevaricated; “You have been trying very hard...”

“And this is what I get for it...” Ava took one shoe out of the box and held it up like it was the final sign of the apocalypse. “Laces, Bea. She gave me shoes with laces, and I cannot tell Lillith that I don't know how to tie my own shoes. She will never let me live it down.”

Oh. That... made sense. Ava had been what? Seven, when she was paralyzed? Beatrice's experience with children was limited to say the least, but... “Your mother never taught you?”

The brief, but achingly naked flash of pain that crossed Ava's face before she dropped her eyes to her lap made Beatrice want to bite her thoughtless tongue.

“Single mom,” she said flatly. “All my shoes were velcro.”

“I'm sorry.” Beatrice reached out a hand, hesitating briefly before laying the lightest of touches on the knee still pressing into hers. “I should have thought before I spoke.”

One shoulder rose and fell in a shrug. “It's okay.”

It clearly wasn't, but Beatrice knew a keep out sign when she saw one. “I could show you,” she offered simply.

Ava lifted her head, lower lip still a little wobbly. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” Beatrice took her hand back and lifted the second shoe out of the box before setting it aside. “We'll start with the bunny ears.”

It did not go well.

Ava was not a natural student at the best of times, and her growing frustration made her even worse. When she didn't get it the first, second or third time she got angry, not with Beatrice, but with herself. Beatrice suspected it was far more about twelve years lost to a sick bed in a cold and loveless institution (she refused to call it a home,) than it was about shoelaces, but that was a little beyond the scope of their current relationship. So she held onto her own temper, and  showed her again.

“Over, under, around Ava. Then through.”

“I did go around!”

“Now pull the loop through the hole.”

“What hole?”

“That... oh. Let's try again.”

“There's something wrong with these laces!”

“It's not the laces. Now, pay attention.”

She did get it of course. Beatrice may have lost a year of her life getting her there, but she did get it, and the grin that broke across her face when she tied that first perfect bow was completely worth it. (Privately, Beatrice might have traded a dozen years to have that smile be for her and not a shoe, but that was a very private thought. So private she wasn't even going to admit to thinking it.)

Once she had both shoes done up, Ava launched herself off the bed into a happy little dance. “Take that Lillith!” She crowed.

“Shhh!” Beatrice admonished her, fighting an answering smile. “You'll wake the whole Cradle.”

Ava slapped her hands over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said through her fingers. “But Bea, c'mon, I nailed that!”

Beatrice just shook her head. “If you don't get back to bed, you're going to sleep in, and then what will Lillith say?”

“Psht!” Ava waved off Beatrice's concern. “I've got this.”

Beatrice gathered up the box, putting the lid back on, pushing it into Ava's hands. “Go, now. Before someone catches us.”  

Ava waggled her eyebrows. “Worried they're gonna get ideas, Bea?”

“I'm worried you're going to get in trouble for falling asleep in training,” Beatrice lied. She opened the door, glancing both ways down the hall before ushering Ava out. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Ava whispered, taking one step through the door before spinning on her heel and coming back to wrap her arms around Beatrice in a hug that was as unexpected as it was earth shattering. Beatrice froze, heart beating like it was trying to kick it's way out of her chest. Ava didn't notice of course, or if she did she didn't say anything.

“Thank you,” she breathed into Beatrice's ear, pressing the briefest of kisses to her cheek, causing a minor cardiac arrest and dealing the final blow to Beatrice's already fragile alter of denial before flitting away again and disappearing down the hall with a little wave.

Beatrice closed the door behind her, turning and putting her back to it before sliding helplessly to the floor.

God help her, what was she supposed to do now?