#previously on: chaotic stupid

[daxisyzz]

⁺‧˚ ⋆ 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥 | 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋆ ˚‧⁺

𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 6: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑶𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒕 & 𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒔

Pairings: ceo!boss!bucky barnes × fem!reader

Other characters: bestfriend!Natasha romanoff, coworkers!Steve Rogers, Sharon Carter, Sam Wilson.

Contents: fake dating, chaotic relationship dynamic, workplace romance, contract relationship, Jealous!Bucky, creepy business rival, growing feelings, the slow burn is a burning flame.

Summary: Your coworkers start betting on whether the relationship is real, and Bucky’s business rival suddenly takes an interest in you. Bucky, usually composed, glares daggers at him and pulls you into his lap during a meeting. (Why does he look so smug afterward?)

Word count: 2.4k+ (bit shorter, sorry)

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Inspired by the kdrama "Business Proposal"

Previously on Business Proposal...

When Bucky finally parked in front of your apartment building, he looked over at you. “You good?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” He offered you a smile, one that was softer, warmer than the smile you’d seen from him before. “I’ll text you tomorrow, yeah?”

You smiled back, a little more sure of yourself now, even if you weren’t entirely sure where this would go. “Yeah. Text me.”

As you stepped out of the car and watched Bucky drive away, a small, unexpected part of you didn’t want to let him go. But you pushed the feeling down, telling yourself you were just imagining things.

As you entered your apartment, you leaned against the door, breathing out a slow, steadying sigh.

What had just happened?

________________________●

If anyone had told you two weeks ago that Bucky Barnes would smile—actually smile—at you during work hours, you’d have laughed them out of the building. Maybe thrown a paperweight for good measure. But now, here you were, sipping coffee in his office while he leaned back in his chair, tie loosened, lips twitching in amusement.

“Your presentation was late by exactly three minutes and forty-seven seconds,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

You squinted at him over your mug. “Was it really, Mr. Barnes, or is that your grumpy inner clock talking again?”

“Still calling me Mr. Barnes?” he teased. “We’re friends now. That’s not what friends call each other.”

You shrugged, smile tugging at your lips. “Habit. Besides, Mr. Barnes has a nice ring to it. Very… broody billionaire energy.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, then looked away a little too quickly. You missed the way his fingers drummed nervously on the desk, the way he couldn’t stop the stupid flutter in his chest every time you said his name—even with sarcasm. Especially with sarcasm.

The warmth between you had shifted since the family dinner. Since he stepped in, shielding you from his grandfather’s judgement without hesitation. Since he chose you—fake relationship or not.

You’d become a team. You and Bucky Barnes. Who would’ve thought?

Awhile later in the breakroom, Sharon leaned against the countertop, sipping her tea and narrowing her eyes at you.

“You call your boyfriend Mr. Barnes?” she asked, voice laced with curiosity.

You blinked, taken off guard. “Uh… yeah?”

“Interesting.” Sharon’s smirk was practically predatory. “Because most people in relationships don’t address their significant others like that.”

You chuckled nervously. “It’s just our thing.”

“Hm.”

You didn’t think much of it—until later that afternoon, you overheard two interns whispering in the hallway.

“I bet fifty they’re not real. I mean, who dates their boss and still calls him ‘sir’?”

“I dunno, I give it two weeks max. Then it’ll blow up. Probably an HR scandal.”

Your jaw clenched.

By the end of the day, a betting pool had formed. Not officially, of course. But in hushed tones and sly glances, everyone in the office had an opinion.

You stormed into Bucky’s office without knocking, arms crossed. “There’s a bet going around about us.”

Bucky raised a brow. “About what?”

“About whether we’re real. And when we’re going to break up.”

His expression darkened. “Who’s betting?”

“Pretty much everyone with a keyboard and a petty soul.”

Bucky stood, jaw tight. “That’s it. We’re shutting it down.”

“By?”

He grinned. That grin was dangerous.

“By giving them a show.”

The next few days were something out of a rom-com. Bucky started holding your hand in the elevator, brushing hair from your face in the hallway, giving forehead kisses, standing just a little too close in the breakroom.

You played your part well. You laughed at his terrible jokes, leaned into his shoulder during team briefings, let your fingers linger a little longer when passing him documents.

But somewhere in the haze of PDA warfare, the lines began to blur.

Bucky found himself staring a little too long at your smile. Smiling a little too wide when you rolled your eyes at his antics. He didn’t want to stop. God help him, he liked how this felt.

But he couldn’t risk losing what you two had now—the banter, the friendship, the quiet comfort. So he masked it with teasing and winks, pretending his heart didn’t skip every time you laughed.

During your lunch break, you called Natasha over. You ended up in a stairwell no one used.

“Okay, spill,” Nat said as soon as she saw you . “You’ve been dodging my texts like you owe me money.”

“I’m in trouble,” you whispered dramatically, pacing.

Nat laughed. “What kind? Professional, emotional, existential?”

You hesitated. “I can’t tell you, its weird.”

“Ah,” she said with understanding. “So it’s about him.”

You groaned. “He’s being so... nice lately. After that disaster dinner with his family, he’s been different. We’re actually getting along, Nat. And I think—I know—I’m catching feelings.”

“Catching?” she repeated. “Haven't you already caught feelings? You're dating." She laughs.

“I’m serious!”

"Ok then, what is it?" She asks.

"I'm under NDA. It's complicated." You mutter.

"Everything about you is complicated. And what is this NDA? Don't tell me..."

You nod not being able to tell her the direct truth. That damn contract.

“Its ok, if you can't tell me now,” Nat said gently. “But listen, just because it started off weird doesn’t mean it can’t become something real.”

You sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You breathe. You take it one step at a time. And you don’t freak out until you’re sure there’s something to freak out about.”

You smiled. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

As Nat hugged you and left, she crashed into someone in the corridor. His coffee went flying.

“Shit!” he exclaimed.

“Oh no—sorry!” Nat stepped back.

“It’s okay,” he laughed, brushing coffee from his shirt. “Wasn’t too hot. You alright?”

Nat blinked up at the tall, golden-haired stranger.

He held out a hand. “Steve.”

“Natasha.”

His grin was easy. “Nice to meet you, Natasha.”

She smirked. “You too, Steve. Sorry again for the caffeine ambush.”

“Best way to meet someone, if you ask me.” He says glancing at her a little too long before she says a clipped bye rushing away. Her heart had skipped a beat, that hadn't happened in a long time. And Nat was not sure if it would happen anytime soon.

Later that week, the meeting room was already packed when you walked in, tablet in hand, nerves steady but present. You were used to being in front of people—used to pitching, persuading, performing. But you weren’t used to the way Lucien Pierce’s eyes landed on you the moment you stepped into view. He was the business rival you’d been instructed to strongly dislike from the very first day on the job. He and Bucky certainly weren’t the best duo to have in a meeting room.

He looked at you like you were the highlight of his afternoon—smirk lazy, gaze lingering in ways that made your skin crawl. You felt it trailing from your legs up, too familiar, too entitled.

You didn’t acknowledge it. You were a professional. You were there to present.

But Bucky noticed.

You felt his stare across the room before you even turned to see it. He was at the head of the table, silent, but his knuckles were white where they rested against the polished wood. You’d seen him like that before—cold, composed, lethal in his stillness.

Only now, he looked… ready to punch through the table.

Lucien slid into the seat beside him, murmuring something about “bright talent” and “smart hires,” with a tone that made your stomach twist. You started your presentation, fingers flying over your tablet, voice clear.

But every time you glanced up, Lucien’s eyes were on you. Not your work. You.

And Bucky? His gaze hadn’t left you once.

Minutes passed. The charts were mid-animation, and you moved to the side to let the projections display. All the seats were taken. You stayed standing, not minding it—until Lucien rose halfway, flashing a too-smooth smile.

“You can take mine, Miss…”

You were already shaking your head politely when Bucky cut in, voice sharp as glass.

“She’s fine.”

You blinked, thrown by the edge in his tone. Lucien raised a brow and opened his mouth to say something.

But, before you could move or say anything, you felt Bucky’s hand on your wrist—firm but not rough, as he pulled you gently but unrelentingly down.

Right into his lap.

Your breath caught. You froze for a half second, tablet clutched tight, your brain momentarily short-circuiting.

What the hell?

“Bucky-” you whispered under your breath, shocked.

“You were standing too long,” he said casually, as if this was completely normal behavior in a room full of CEOs and VPs. “You looked tired.”

You wanted to argue. You wanted to ask what the hell he was doing.

But his hand settled warm and steady against your waist. You swore your skin hummed beneath his fingers. Sam had just stepped up to take over the next section of the presentation,Q3 projections, so your brief moment of silence went unnoticed.

You were supposed to be listening. Taking notes, maybe. But all you could focus on was the press of Bucky’s chest against your back. The warmth of his breath near your ear. The slow, unconscious circles his thumb was stroking on your side.

Lucien’s smile faded.

The entire room was watching now, and Bucky? Bucky looked smug. Self-satisfied in that quiet, infuriating way he got when he knew exactly what he was doing.

You did your best to keep a neutral expression, nodding along with Sam’s words. But you could feel the way your cheeks burned. The way your pulse stuttered.

When the segment wrapped and applause filled the room, you rose from his lap, jaw tight, still not meeting anyone’s eyes.

But Bucky didn’t let you get far.

“You were amazing,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyes snapped to his, searching.

And there was something there. Something sharp and soft all at once. Something terrifying and thrilling.

You looked away before it swallowed you whole.

You had barely stepped out of the meeting room when you heard the hushed whispers ripple down the hallway.

“…did he just pull her into his lap?”

“I thought they were faking it.”

“There goes my fifty bucks.”

You rounded the corner toward your desk and spotted Sharon leaning against the break room doorframe, arms crossed, eyes wide in disbelief. She looked like she’d just seen a ghost—or, more accurately, like she’d just watched her betting pool crash and burn in real-time.

“You’re kidding me,” she muttered when you walked past.

You slowed, gave her a raised brow. “Problem, Sharon?”

She blinked at you, mouth opening like she was about to demand answers, then snapping shut when Bucky appeared behind you. He didn’t say a word��just rested a hand on the small of your back like it was second nature.

Sharon stared at the contact. At you. At him.

“I—I thought you were just playing a game,” she said faintly. “Like... a PR strategy.”

Bucky turned his head, clearly hearing every word, and offered her a single, knowing smile.

Sharon blinked. Then gasped. “Wait. This is real?”

You shrugged, fighting the urge to smirk. “You tell me.”

Further down the hallway, two interns groaned, one muttering, “I was so sure a scandal was gonna erupt this week.”

A guy from accounting held out a hand to collect crumpled bills from three different departments.

The office was in shambles. Bets were being exchanged. One person sighed loudly, “Should’ve bet on their PDA instead.”

And you? You just kept walking, lips twitching as Bucky leaned down and said low against your ear:

“Let ‘em talk.”

You weren’t sure what was more dangerous—his protectiveness, his performance… or the possibility that none of it felt like acting anymore.

Later that evening, you almost don’t notice how suddenly the hum of the office air conditioning seems to recede as you gather your things, each snap of the laptop closing echoing in your ears—until Bucky’s silhouette fills your peripheral vision, and that familiar flutter of anticipation skitters through your chest.

He’s leaning casually against the edge of your desk, his tie loosened just enough to hint at the man beneath the suit, shoulders squared in a way that says he’s here simply because he wants to be. You look up, pen still poised over your notepad, and in that instant the world shrinks to the gentle rise and fall of his broad chest and the way his storm-blue eyes catch the overhead lighting, turning them into twin beacons in the late-afternoon glow.

“You free next week?” he asks, voice deceptively light, as though he’s merely curious about your calendar.

Your pen hovers for a heartbeat as you savor the low rasp in his tone.

“Depends,” you reply, arching a brow with playful defiance, though your pulse drums in agreement.

He shifts forward, the faint, woody hint of his cologne drifting to you and pulling your senses into a slow, intoxicating whirlpool of anticipation.

“We’ve got a business trip,” he continues, each word deliberate, punctuated by a slight smirk.

“Europe. A few days in Paris and Frankfurt. I need you there to help with the presentations, and… well, your presence tends to smooth things over.”

You set your pen down, meeting his gaze head-on as warmth blossoms in your cheeks. “And if I say no?” you challenge softly, already knowing that you won’t.

He leans closer, just enough that the front of his jacket brushes yours, and the air between you tightens.

“Then I’ll be stuck charming investors on my own, and my jokes are far less amusing without someone to roll their eyes at them,” he says, voice dropping to a murmur that makes your breath catch—a sound you’re suddenly very aware you’re making.

A slow smile curls over your lips, genuine and bright. “Well, I can’t have you suffering,” you murmur, and in the soft lift of his brow you recognize the spark of victory.

He straightens, stepping back but keeping his eyes locked on yours. “Flights leave Monday,” he says, voice businesslike again, though there’s a glint in his gaze that hints at something more. “Itinerary’s in your inbox.”

You nod, trying to tamp down the whirl of excitement. “I’ll review it tonight,” you promise, your tone professional—though every fiber of you knows you’ll be counting down the days.

He offers a half-smile, one corner of his mouth curving upward, before turning away to check a message on his phone.

For a moment, you watch the slow line of his back and feel the tension of unspoken possibilities humming in the space between you, a quiet promise that this trip will be more than just meetings and PowerPoints.

Taglist: @calwitch, @scott-loki-barnes, @baw1066, @awesompawsum, @bucky-baby-barnes, @marianastudiesart, @pattiemac1, @maryevm, @borkybawnes, @mcira, @otterlycanadian, @mrsnikstan, @sebastians-love, @homiesexual-or-homosexual, @winchestert101, @julesandgems

[enzosbabyangel]

hi so I’ve had this idea for a while and I feel like you’d write it very very well- so like- Fred and George x shy reader. Like shy as in like kind but shy. Like Snow White kinda personality. also like THICK. like as in ass/tits. I FEEL LIKE THEYD FALL HARD. but anyway- reader is best friends with Harry Ron and hermione and basically has always been their bestie since first year. when Ron first introduced her to the twins she fell hard but was too shy to say anything. They asked her out in her second year , she said yes, but they kept the relationship with her secret Cus well…two guys and a girl. people will talk. Anyway- fast forward to order of the phoenix era. They’re ducking her down and RON WALKS IN- uh- everyone knows now.

I dunno I thought it’d be fun :P

☆｡° Ron walking in on you, Fred ‘n George

cw: 18+!, mdni, light smut, poly relationship, getting walked in on by Ron, Molly might be a bit ooc, i don’t really remember her personality since i started overthinking it 😅

a/n: i really liked this idea lmao, i love getting reqs for the weasleys, specially George ‘n Fred 🤭 i’d be their secret gf any day 🤍 hope you enjoy anon !! it was indeed fun to write :)

You met your best friends, Ron, Hermione and Harry in your first year. Having met them after you all got off the express when you bumped into Hermione. Stuttering out quick apologies, the two of you becoming best friends after that, which eventually included Ron and Harry after a couple weeks.

When Ron introduced you to his two, twin older brothers, Fred and George Weasley, you fell for them instantly. Especially with how they couldn’t help but tease you for your shy nature.

You’d be lying if you said the subtle differences in their personalities wasn’t what drew you in the most- asides from both of them being attractive. George was a hint more polite and empathetic. Fred more chaotic and more of the instigator, it was a nice blend.

They eventually asked you out in your second year, themselves having a ‘bit’ of an interest in you. You were unlike all of Ron’s friends, you were sometimes baffling kind, even to those such as Draco Malfoy, and you were shy- barely talking when you’d go over to the burrow. They also weren’t stupid, it was clear as day that you liked them. The way your cheeks would flush when they spoke to you and you’d constantly divert eye contact, the few times they’d catch you looking at them, told them all they needed to know. And most of all, you were pretty, and your beauty just got more and more evident as you guys grew up.

It was no surprise when you agreed. Though the twins both decided it would be best to keep the relationship secret. Not because they were embarrassed of you. Not just because you were one of their younger brother’s best friends, but also because they knew how unusual a relationship with two males and a singular girl is. It’s better to just avoid having unnecessary rumours and opinions circling around.

You guys managed to keep your relationship secret for years. Which perhaps got to the brother’s heads, as they got more and more reckless and comfortable every year.

“S’too much-“ You mewl, eyes scrunched shut and toes curling as George fucked your pretty cunt and Fred fucked your tight ass. Having previously cum twice. The brothers claiming that they wanted to see how long you could stay quiet, the three of you in Fred and George’s unlocked bedroom.

“Oh c’mon sweetheart, you can take it.” George reassured, lips trailing kisses along your neck. The more sympathetic sibling trying hard not to practically moan at the feeling of your plump tits rocking back and forth against his chest due to the other twins thrusts.

“You have a million times before.” Fred added with a chuckle. Slightly out of breath as he rocked into you at a faster pace than Fred. His larger hand coming up to grab both of your wrists and pull them back. His eyes hazy as he watched the way your ass bounced with his thrusts. “Yet your pretty lil ass always feels so tight.” He chuckled out again, placing a light slap to your ass just to watch the flesh jiggle.

A pathetic sounding whined escaped your throat, thighs clenching together more as you attempted to close your eyes even more. Feeling embarrassed at his inappropriate words. However just before you could respond, another, out of place voice replied for you.

“What the bloody hell?!” The all to familiar voice shrieked, causing the two men’s movements to halt and all of your guys’s eyes to widen.

“Ron?! have you heard of bloody knocking?!” Fred Finally let out after a couple seconds of shock. His typical smug confidence replaced with embarrassment as he grabbed his blanket and pulled it up to hide his and Freds bare bottoms and your own naked body sandwiched in between.

Rons mouth fell agape at his older brothers audacity, but quickly looked away, simply walking out while uttering one final, sarcastic and bewildered response. “Sorry i didn’t expect to walk in on my older brothers shagging one of my best friends!”

Once the sound of the door slamming close reverberated in the room you almost felt tears swelling in your eyes. Both in worry of your friendship with Ron and embarrassment. Which, of course, Fred immediately noticed.

“Hey hey, cut it out with the tears darling.” He quickly reassured despite his own embarrassment, reaching down to wipe the tears away before they could fall far.

George spoke next, pulling his now soft cock out of you as you he wrapped his arms around you in a form of a hug. They both knew you incredibly well, so they knew what you were worried about without you even voicing it.

And they also knew Ron, so they didn’t feel as worried as you, so now it was a matter of trying to get you to realize that. “Yeah pretty. You worried ‘bout Ron’s reaction? don’t be.” George said simply, running one hand in small up and down motions on your back.

“How do you know he won’t hate me?” You asked, swallowing shakily in as you spoke. Your mind immediately thinking up all of the worst case scenarios.

“Hmm let’s see.. he’s our brother and we know him?” Fred teased with a grin, though there was still a softness in his voice as he rubbed your cheek softly.

“He’ll be upset for a bit.. maybe ignore you a bit. It’ll be awkward at dinner tonight no doubt… maybe cause a bit of a scene. But trust me, he’ll get over it.” Fred reassured, confident in his words. Not bothering to lie and say that Ron will immediately be over it.

You let out a sound of thought, thinking about Fred’s words. You knew that sounded like Ron and was most likely what was going to happen, but you were an overthinker.

“Promise?” You let out after a couple seconds of living in your thoughts.

“Promise.” Fred and George both said in unison, the confidence and the solidity in their words helping you feel more at peace.

“Ok..” You let out with a soft smile, letting out a deep breath as you glanced at Fred then George.

You all were now sat at the dinner table. Molly talking away while you awkward looked downwards at your lap. You fork twirling in the pasta that Molly made for dinner tonight. Fred managed to act as if all was normal, though he still had an underlying hint of awkwardness. Evident in the way he’d avoid Ron’s eyes. George was much like you, cracking jokes like Fred but not really looking up from his food.

Ron on the other hand was taking times giving you all disgusted glares occasionally before looking back down at his own food. The tension in the air was palpable despite how everyone tried to ignore it. Harry awkwardly rubbing his hands on his pants as he observed the awkwardness in the room.

The only sounds in the room was Molly’s chatter as she attempted to ease the awkwardness in the room. Finally sitting down to enjoy her own food.

“So how is everyone?” Hermione eventually asks, her eyes roaming over the faces that she’s come to recognize and -usually- feel greatly comfortable with among the years.

Molly smiled as Hermione spoke, opening her mouth to speak before being cut off by Ron. “Bloody amazing… i bet Y/N, Fred ‘n George feel real amazing too.”

He spoke, his words dripping with sarcasm which added to the tension in the room. Everyone’s eyes going to the three of you as Ron gave you all his typical, bitter nasty look. Fred choking on his noodles while your cheeks heated up. George simply scrunching his eyes shut as if something abruptly dropped.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley!” Molly scolded among seeing the look Ron dared to give to you guys. Smacking his arm lightly with her napkin.

Ron’s attitude didn’t budge though, instead shifting his arm away from the napkin slightly as he spoke. Giving away enough but not too much. “Please, you’d be disgusted too if you saw them doing what i saw.” He emphasized the last words.

Everyone’s eye’s diverted back to the three of you’s shameful faces. Your fork stilling in between your fingers as you felt their gazes bore into your down-warded head.

“So.. what happened?” Harry muttered, voice laced with confusion and slight hesitance, unsure if he really wanted to know.

“Uh..” 

“Yeah guys ‘what happened?’”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . written by enzosbabyangel, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

[voidsturn]

title: no. 1 party anthem

pairing: stranger!chris x stranger!fem!reader

plot: while suffering with the consequences of unprocessed hurt, loneliness and self-hatred, chris is forced to yet another party. he finds himself in a conversation with someone new, which proves to be weird, comfortable, stupid and real.

tropes: fluff (maybe hurt/comfort), strangers au, close proximity, open ending

warnings: this fic does touch on some sensitive topics but i’m not sure it qualifies as angst. mentions of anxiety attacks, alcohol, smoking/vaping and sex

author’s note: ahhh my first fic on this blog! i’m extremely excited and nervous cuz it’s somewhat longer than i expected but oh fuck. yes, i know this song isn’t actually a happy love song but i just couldn’t bring myself to give them an unfortunate ending. i might in the future but i didn’t want my first fic here to be completely angst (there will be in the future tho, no worries about that) for now, i really do hope you like this!

chris - orange | the girl - pink | nick - purple | matt - blue

“chris, are you making your goddamn piss in there?!” screamed nick, while almost breaking down the bathroom door. he was getting on chris’ nerves, probably more than the thumping bass of some party song or the loud moans of some hookup next door. he was still breathing weirdly but told nick to just leave him alone. nick shortly after, gave up and ran towards the dance floor once he heard the first few beats of some charli xcx song.

while getting out of the bathroom, chris got stopped in his tracks. it was some idiot who couldn’t hold his fucking liquor better than a toddler. he was on the verge of punching that same idiot in the face. “jeez, can you walk like a normal human you fucking moron?” chris realised the asshole spilled some of the disgusting drink on his previously crisp white shirt. he couldn’t believe the theme of this party was ‘classy’. in a matter of thirty minutes, chris almost had an anxiety attack, was caught squatting in the bathroom by his own brother, heard some really unfortunate noises next door, and got his only formal shirt ruined.

chris was stuck replaying the last few moments in his head when the drunk idiot dodged chris and basically threw himself into chris’ safe space - the last empty bathroom. muttering a string of curse words, chris decided to give up on this ‘stupid fucking party’. he thought, or was hoping, that at least matt might be having a bad time as well. in a borderline ritualistic way.

once he saw some familiar faces, chris interrupted a discussion about pokémon between matt and sam. “chris, is it okay if we leave in an hour? i’m finally having a nice time at a party”. matt just said the words he thought would never leave his mouth. sam and colby along with matt tried to calm down the clearly uneasy chris. all he wanted was some fucking peace. chris was getting so goddamn overstimulated, he was fully ready to accept the jail time of a few murders. he wasn’t ready to take an uber either so he just basically ran towards tara after colby told him where she was.

while walking towards tara, chris was so fucking done. doomed actually to be at this party. the big hall felt endless with the maze of sweaty, icky bodies of completely wasted people on the dance floor. this, coupled with the strobing led lights and almost deafening party playlist, proved to be the final boss of overstimulation for chris. he finally reached tara, who was hosting the ‘stupid fucking party’. tara immediately knew chris wasn’t feeling good once he started to frantically ask if there was someplace less chaotic. she said that there’s a rooftop where she saw people go for a smoke.

tara made it seem like the rooftop was a chimney when in reality, there were only three other people. two of them were on their phones, editing pictures taken hours ago, occasionally taking a hit of something bubblegum flavoured. the third was looking at the city skyline. the rooftop was dimly lit with a few fake lamps, streamers and rogue balloons from the loud party downstairs. it was pretty small in size so chris was basically forced to go near the third girl. she had on a sparkly dress. her hair was up in a ponytail with bangs. chris thought she looked pretty but was in no mood to chit-chat cause the environment still reeked of alcohol, pretend and bubblegum. the alcohol smell was probably cause of his ruined shirt. chris walked towards the edge of the rooftop and leaned against the edge, slyly looking for a ‘fucking place to sit’.

he questioned why he was feeling way more sad than at the previous parties he had been forced to. sad wasn’t the word. more like left out. numb… lost even. yeah, his brothers and friends were all present downstairs, having the time of their fucking lives. but why couldn’t he? maybe he wasn’t in a good place mentally. he hated himself and his fucked up predicament for that while the others were just living it up, talking to other excited strangers, dancing, enjoying the ‘stupid fucking party’.

thoughts of self hate started their inevitable projections onto others. in a weird way chris felt almost betrayed. he hated coming across as a complainer but on the way to the party, matt was quick to say shit like leaving in half an hour, while nick was ranting about hoping tara didn’t invite the same morons from two weeks ago. all that bitching and moaning and praying and hating and now nick’s probably dancing his heart out to some ariana grande remix while matt’s chatting with people about fucking pokémon. just pokémon actually, that was phrased really weird.

it wasn’t always like this. all three of them were supposed to be in LA for business and pretend to like this. but at this point, nick and matt were getting a bit too good at pretending and chris just wasn’t. hence the shocking betrayal. now chris knows that entire cycle of thoughts started okay and just spiralled. completely outta his hands. now, he hates that he thinks like this about his two favourite humans in the world. thus began the voices in his head.

“you’re such a loser, useless without your brothers, and still you’re thinkin’ shit like this. fucking pathetic. don’t even have a fucking driver’s license? scared of having a girlfriend? again, you’re fucking pathetic. stop crying and whining and complaining like a stupid baby and suck it up for the love of-”

chris was quick to pull out his nearly dead phone and hence began his doom-scroll during moments like this. he wanted to avoid this shit, at least till he was in the comfort of his own bedroom. he heard the ‘sparkly’ girl behind him muttering and breathing? if anything, he thought she was staring at him cause of the two burning holes he felt at the back of his head. ugh, the one time he doesn’t have a hat or beanie on. he hoped ‘taylor swift doppelgänger’ took the hint that he wanted to be left to his own goddamn devices.

she didn’t. of course she didn’t cause that’s just who she is.

“you should sit down. that glass railing isn’t as strong as it seems. wouldn’t wanna witness a-”

“i got it, thanks” snapped chris as he finally made eye contact with the girl. she had wide eyes, really big hoops and glitter on her face. her dress resembled a disco-ball.

“fine by me, more room on this… floor” chris let out a soft chuckle. can you blame him, he needed it. well to her, it sounded more like a scoff. “sorry, things are just harder to process tonight and i don’t know why” chris didn’t know why the girl was saying things that someone closer to her should hear. ‘maybe she’s drunk’ he thought, while thinking of something weird to ask so she’d go away.

“are you a disco-ball? i’m asking this to see how shit-faced you might be”

“i’m not a disco-ball, i’m a mirrorball… see that’s funny because they’re the same goddamn thing. and, this isn’t a fucking halloween party. and no, i’m not drunk, i’m pissed”

“oooh mirrorball’s got some lip on her huh?” shock wasn’t the word chris could use anymore. more like glad. glad that he wasn’t the only one pissed, again, in a borderline psychotic way. nick had tara to dance with, matt had sam to catch pokémon with. maybe chris could just talk to this girl. it wasn’t completely unrealistic, right?

he walked towards where she was sitting. getting comfortable on hardwood floor was no joke but once he saw her gratefully smile at him for a change, it was weirdly comfortable. she began talking yet again. “any good shows you’ve been watching?” wasn’t the question chris thought he’d be asked. maybe his name or something, but decided to roll with it. “nah, more of a music guy. matt’s the crazy binge-watcher”

“excuse me, more like matt’s the fun one. and yes, i took that personally cause i love shows” the girl was fully ready to defend her slightly insane ways to finish a series. “okay, well i love breaking bad, what about you?”

the girl shook her head “sadly, breaking bad is currently rotting on my watchlist but hey, you’re motivation to finally start it” chris was still hoping for something in common between them. not in a romantic way, of course but it did make talking to a complete stranger easier.

“so what about music?” the girl’s eyes lit up when she said taylor swift. chris was quick to speak. “okay but i don’t get why she’s so popular music wise? she’s cool don’t get me wrong, but-”

“because… she makes us feel seen dude” the girl continued. “the fact that someone as awesome as her can go through some of the same shit as me, makes me feel validated… seen. but then again, i won’t try to make you like something if you just don’t wanna. i do fuck with r&b and rap though if that’s what you listen to”

hoping this is the overlap between them chris asks “you heard of lil skies?” “i have, but i’m a local. more on the chill rap scene”

“so you like drake don’t you?” “say what you want but the guy’s got some hidden gems and his old stuff’s pretty awesome” chris couldn’t agree more. “totally get it, matt and i used to always jam out to the motto and she will-” “is matt your brother?” chris is in disbelief. egotistic disbelief but still. he widens his bright blue eyes. “oh my god, you have no idea who i am don’t you?”

the girl shakes her head “i mean i don’t know which one you are? are you one of those who refers to themselves in third person?” “please say something other than that. you’re making me feel like an idiotic species with that sentence. see now that’s funny cause that’s pretty weird of you-”

“i got it, thanks” the two couldn’t help but laugh. chris was feeling light and it was all thanks to this ‘mirrorball’ he found. he thought he could ask why she was previously pissed, hoping she didn’t take it the wrong way.

“oh i saw my drunk ex downstairs. he said some really weird shit and i got super mad at him and almost punched that bitch in the face” chris let out a wheeze which was promptly stopped by the girl’s pissed face. he couldn’t relate to her, yet he tried to understand. “how did it end?”

“whoa. you just made a taylor swift reference! you’re learning. see that’s funny cause-” “not funny dude. and you’re dodging the question so i’m sorry i asked” chris knew he overstepped the pretty thick boundary with someone he met only twenty minutes ago. after a long sigh, the girl began her explanation. “i just lost feelings. and it sucks cause i didn’t wanna string him along. downstairs he made me feel like i was a monster”

chris completely respected her decision. “you aren’t. you’re already better than people who choose to cheat. how long was it?” he thought people like that are very rare to come by. “barely two months? i don’t really remember but thanks for saying that whole thing” the girl smiled and felt understood. she added. “i tried, but my commitment issues kinda got in the way” chris knew all about that. he really did. even though he was curious, he wasn’t sure if he should go any further. something between the two had changed. one could hear a spark of lighting a firework in the silence, that kinda silence. not the awkward kind at all. peaceful and understood, yet troubled by the past.

both were left thinking about what could’ve been if they didn’t just push people away. maybe chris would’ve had a girlfriend, or an ex by now. maybe she would’ve still been in that relationship. unfortunately, the need to be free and invulnerable overpowered the two’s want of romantic love.

the girl was first to break the silence. “i love how i just said that to you, yet i don’t even know your name”

“the name’s chris” she hummed “name matches the looks”

chris had an involuntary red tint spread across his face while he widened his eyes. “did you just say i literally look like a chris?” “yeah basically” said the girl as if he asked her the dumbest question of the week. maybe of the month. chris agreed and continued, “hmm yeah, we did just trauma bond, yet we met barely an hour ago”

the girl was taken aback. “excuse me, trauma bond where? you still haven’t told me why you’re sad.” chris thought the hard part of finding someone was over. maybe just saying this to a complete stranger was harder. ‘fuck it’ he thought.

“look, i can’t even begin to think why cause every time i do, i ignore it cause i just don’t wanna get into it, and it all just builds up-” chris stopped himself but the girl nodded, showing that it’s okay and safe for him to go on.

“i know i should be happy. i’m young, healthy, well-off… but i feel so lonely, now more than ever. i blame my brothers for finally finding fame and LA actually okay and i know i’m such an asshole for saying that. y’know every single time some fan asks, ‘oh who’s least likely to live without his brothers or who’s least likely to be in a relationship’ they always instantly say it’s me. and i get it. i’ve built an image like that and yes it’s partially my fault but it still hurts. it’s like… people just expect me to be attached at the fucking hip to my brothers, and scared of women. i’m still definitely not ready for a relationship, but when someone says something like that again and again, it fucking pisses me off even more. in a way, it just stops me from pursuing anything cause everyone just always has something to say, and i just can’t help focusing on the bad shit. now i’m here, troubling you. someone i’ve known for two fucking seconds with my shit. i just really fucking hate it”

the girl took in all of his words and hurt and inhaled sharply before she spoke. “it’s okay to feel that way. the whole thing about you just blurting this out is valid. sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger than a loved one because they don’t know anything about you. and i’m weirdly proud that you said all that. it takes real guts”

chris felt the way he thought the girl feels when listening to taylor swift. seen. the girl continued. “and at the end of the day, you’re not gonna fucking end up cranky, sad and alone. as long as you have hope, faith and most importantly, love. not only for others, but really for yourself. if you feel hurt, you’ll hurt others and push them away. so it’s best to take care of yourself first, try to find a way you can open up to people closest to you. then you can definitely find whatever it is you’re looking for” chris didn’t take her words lightly and knew they were gonna be stuck in his head, regardless of his shitty memory.

he resumed the quip-off, feeling much better after letting all that out, and not being blindly judged for it. “so, we’re even now right?” the girl just knowingly smiled and chris couldn’t put a finger on why he just really liked a smile on her face. “y’know, i got all that from a taylor swift song”

“no fucking way. taylor’s songs give you wisdom?” the girl nodded but was quick to add. “more than wisdom, it’s clarity. and advice. honestly, she’s like the older sister i never had” chris wondered which song and as if the girl read his goddamn mind she answered, “well, it’s actually a combination of three songs. one’s the archer by taylor swift, the other’s escape from la by the weeknd-”

“did not think you fuck with him as well. they’re so different from each other” chris says while the girl just blinks. chris immediately apologises. “sorry, i have a habit of interrupting my brothers. my brain’s just really fucking weird and fast”

letting out a chuckle she says, “nah its all good chris. i can personally relate to that” to ensure he didn’t commit a fucking crime. chris lets out a sigh of relief while pulling out his phone, opening apple music in the process. “what’s the third song?”

as if right on cue, the five percent battery warning invades his screen. “ah fuck, phone’s almost dead” his panic continues. “i hate to say this but i have to go. otherwise my brothers will think i left already and my phone will be dead by the time i can call-” “it’s okay chris, go. i’m not mad at all”

chris hurriedly tries to find an outlet on the rooftop but there aren’t any. even the other two people who were previously there are gone, leaving their trace behind with the sweet smell of bubblegum. the girl’s eyes kept following chris, who was spastically still searching for a goddamn power bank or something. anything. “i’m pretty sure there’s no chargers here”

he turned his head towards her so quick, whiplash never felt more real. “okay then tell me your number, your name. anything” he was so out of breath from running around like a hooligan. yet, chris was determined to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating that entire conversation. the girl smiled yet again. ‘that damn smile’ he thought. “i hope you’re coming to jake’s party next weekend. i’ll be there”

chris really liked that answer. of course he did. he liked the chase and was finally excited to come to the next party. his phone started buzzing, messages from the triplet’s group chat appeared on his lock screen asking chris’ whereabouts. they were dying to leave but he wasn’t. he bid his ‘mirrorball’ goodbye and started to run down the stairs. just before chris could go he asked. actually… screamed.

“what was the third song!”

the girl turned around and screamed back the third songs name.

she blushed and looked away while chris’ signature grin took over his features. he saw the rooftop one last time. the battery on the phone was low but his spirits were high. he somehow managed to take a really shitty picture of that very ‘shiny’ rooftop.

the downstairs scene still felt like a thick and claustrophobic fog of pretend, but chris knew that if he really wanted to, he could find something real and grounded.

in their car, the triplets like after every ‘stupid fucking party’, talked about their individual experiences. nick as always began. “tara really needs to invite better people cause what the fuck. why’d they all look so judgy when i told them my favourite genre’s pop? after that whenever i tried to talk to them they’d just ignore me, like a bunch of goddamn high status judgmental uglies. like hello?! the music was loud but you’re not fucking deaf!”

“nick, i thought at least you were having a nice time. sam and colby had to leave five minutes after chris asked me to leave. honestly can’t believe i’m saying this but i should’ve listened to the kid. after that, i locked myself in one of the bathrooms and fucking played cheese escape. that’s right.. CHEESE ESCAPE. chris, where the fuck were you?”

before nick could answer, he saw the slight red tint on chris’ face as a cheeky grin was plastered his face. “oh my god, did you fucking hook up with someone?” the shock value was a bit too high for both matt and chris. the car slightly wobbled on the road. “no you fucking idiot i didn’t. i just went to the rooftop after tara told me it’s quiet up there and just scrolled on my phone. that’s why my phone was dead”

“well since you could’ve called me, i say bullshit. but it’s fine. i won’t ask further” said matt as he partially believed his story. nick was weirdly proud that chris finally talked to someone he didn’t know at a party, all by himself.

after a short thirty seconds of quiet, chris started blabbering about playing a song before he forgot the name. “oh my god, stop saying the fucking name of the song and just play it you brain-dead moron” scolded nick cause kid was morphing into a monkey while matt was on a highway.

chris finally opened apple music on his currently charging phone. he started playing a song called, ‘no. 1 party anthem’.

[cliosunshine]

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Jason Todd x dragon trainer!reader

Summary: after a portal mysteriously opened in your world, setting all of your dragons loose, you must find a way to take them all back home before it's too late and before you catch feelings for a certain cute guy in a red helmet

Warnings: none; jason struggles to come to terms with the fact that you and your dragons might actually be harmless

Word count: 4.0k

A/N: third part, yay! I finally got around to finish it. Now that i have more free time, I hope to write and post chapter four by the end of the year lol

You watched in horror at the gun pointed right in front of Pyro, your beloved albeit extremely chaotic and destructive fire dragon.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” You yelped as you raised both of your hands and fully turned towards Jason, the two of you still on Obsidian’s back and in between two building complexes, “Hood, drop the gun. Now.”

Although you didn’t know him at all, you really didn’t want the vigilante sitting behind you to accidentally get the both of you roasted like rotisserie chickens by Pyro’s fire breath.

He scoffed, clearly agitated, his gun still up in the air. You had never been that close to a weapon in your entire life and oh god was it terrifying. You then remembered he actually had two of them strapped on his thighs and gulped nervously.

“What do you mean he melted your bike?” you asked, trying to dissuade the situation. You noticed how Pyro was eyeing Red Hood with a knowing look and that gave you more reason to believe that they had actually met before.

“That asshole came up to me, tried to fire his stupid flames in my direction and then he had to set my building’s garages on fire, melting my bike in the process,” his exasperated tone made you look away, heat spreading across your face in embarrassment at your dragon’s actions. It was like having another adult telling you about something bad your child had done.

You eventually sighed in defeat, “Can you at least lower your gun? We can talk about his whole ordeal later, but right now you’re scaring him,”

You couldn’t see it, but by the way he began laughing humourlessly you knew he had a baffled look on his face.

“I’m scaring him?”

“Yes, very much so”

A beat passed, but he eventually strapped his gun away, definitely giving the dragon a dirty look.

In the meantime, you began taking your lasso out, ready to stand up. As you did so, Pyro understood what that action meant and bolted away, flapping his burgundy scaled wings faster than you had thought imaginable.

Fuck.

“Obi, go!” That was everything you needed to say to make him begin chasing his buddy. He, too, was frustrated by his out-of-pocket behaviour. As you skimmed through the skyscrapers of the city, you felt Hood’s arms snake up your waist again, squeezing you gently. You could feel his gloved fingers twitching against the fabric of your sweater as you leaned forward and planted your hands in between your dragon’s horns, making him fly faster.

It was a tiring game of cat and mouse, but with all the times you had to retrieve Pyro back at home, you were pretty confident in yours and Obsidian’s abilities.

As predicted, the fire dragon’s erratic and impulsive nature led him to an enclosed area, where it seemed the nearest exit for him was by your right. As if sensing it too, Obsidian repositioned himself, so that his wing span could block the exit in its entirety.

Jason watched you as you took the glowing lasso in your hand.

His eyes followed your every move and they widened when you suddenly got up on your feet, your stance incredibly stable for someone who had to balance on a breathing and flying creature that was all scales and ridges, with no flat surface to stabilize themselves on.

“I’m sorry for doing it with you here, too,” you apologised with a focused look toward your target. Jason could only nod as he admired you, his own raging thoughts that were previously aimed at the dragon completely dissipated at the sight of you looking like an off-duty Amazon. The fierce look on your face was something you reserved only to the dragons that were acting out and he hoped to never be on the receiving end of it. It was completely juxtaposed to the very sweet and playful disposition you had shown thus far and he didn’t want the light-hearted banter between the two of you to cease just yet. He still didn’t know whether to trust you or not: this whole situation seemed too ridiculous to be true, yet here you were, swinging your lasso with incredible agility as you remained calm and focused.

If Jason had blinked, he would’ve missed it.

You threw the hoop over the dragon’s head and it swiftly slipped on his neck. Only then did Jason notice how small his head was when compared to the other dragons he had seen. The lack of spikes and red eyes made this one look so uncanny and terrifying that he would’ve been scared if he wasn’t still pissed off about his bike.

“Gotcha,” you put the rope in Obsidian’s mouth and sat back down, careful where to put your feet since you had a guest now.

“I’m sorry about Pyro,” you began to apologize to Jason, who could only look at you, “he’s very impulsive and may or may not have incredible anger issues, which isn’t rare for dragons to have but his are atrocious,”

Jason hummed, his mind elsewhere. That lasso looked too much like Diana’s for his own liking, but he decided not to question it whilst mid-air on your extremely protective dragon’s back.

The ride back was peaceful and you managed to coax some of your more mild-tempered overgrown puppies to follow you. They truly did resemble dogs, those ones, with their tails wagging side to side and curiously eyeing Jason.

So, from what he figured by analysing the situation and these creatures, he just had to have the worst luck in the entire universe to meet and irate the deranged and feral one.

He huffed a laugh that seemed to turn your gaze onto him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’,” he shrugged, “just thinking about how, out of all the Tolkien-esque creatures you have, I had to piss off the clearly mentally unstable one”

You shushed him, a mix of shock and amusement in your face.

“Don’t talk about Pyro like that! He’s a troubled boy…he’s been through a lot and is still recovering,” you said as you looked towards him: he was now engaging in a one-sided game of tug war with Obi, who was clearly not having none of it by the way he puffed smoke in the younger dragon’s face as a warning.

You could only huff, some strands of hair on your face lifting up in the process.

It didn’t even feel like Jason was flying above Gotham’s skyline. With the easy conversation and the effortless way you were talking with him, he eased up as if the two of you were just taking a stroll in a park, like you had just done moments ago.

Before he knew it, you had reached the manor and hopped off Obsidian’s back.

There, all of the people residing in it were in the garden, watching the two of you approach them. Alfred’s eyes widened ever so subtly and Jason barked out a laugh as he took his helmet off and walking up to him.

“Hey, Alfred, I’m sorry but those guys there have destroyed half of your topiary,” he said as he rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“I see,” said the butler with a slightly unamused look on his face, “I hope you successfully retrieved every ingredient for Goliath’s compress. Master Damian hasn’t stopped blaming himself for his skin rash since your departure,”

“I’ve got everything I need, Alfred!”

The two men turned around at the sound of your voice. You had just finished talking to Bruce, informing him that only two dragons were left to catch and that they would eventually follow the scent of the pack and come back without a fuss.

“Very well then, miss,” and with that you approached Damian, who was petting and consoling a rather shy and trembling Goliath, clearly agitated by whatever he was looking at behind your back.

You followed his gaze and laughed as you saw 14 dragons staring back with great curiosity and caution at the big ball of red fur. Now that he thought about it, Goliath sure was a strange dragon: he was significantly smaller than any of yours and was covered in bright red fur, whereas all you dragons sported muted colours and had scaled bodies, more often than not adorned with spikes.

You cooed at him, getting closer at the creature. Managing to crush every ingredient into a green mush, you began to delicately massage it over his worse spots.

Clearly spooked by the cold mixture, Goliath growled at you, snapping his wide mouth mere centimetres from your face and making you jump in surprise.

Before you could apologise and try to calm the dragon down, Obsidian lunged at him with a roar as he pinned the supposed threat to the ground, not letting him go. He puffed smoke in his face, never quite spewing flames out of his mouth. Jason was on alert right away as was everybody else. Even the other dragons grew tense as the watched the scene unravel: some seemed to growl at Goliath with the same protective instinct Obsidian had, whilst others grew shy and retreated behind some of the bigger ones.

“Get your dragon in check, Y/N,” Jason warned, his eyes never leaving the scene in front of him.

He understood why Obsidian lunged at Goliath like that, but he’d be damned before he saw Damian’s most beloved pet get torn to pieces right in front of him.

“What do you think I’m doing?” you quipped back, clearly as agitated as everyone else. Jason almost felt bad for snapping at you, but he truly didn’t know what your intentions were yet and he surely wasn’t going to take any chances.

Everybody watched you carefully as you approached the dragon, whispering something in his ear before Obsidian let go of Goliath’s neck and lowered his head at you. From where they were standing, it seemed like he was almost apologetic.

The more distance grew between Obsidian and Goliath as he retreated back to the rest of the pack, the more everybody, including Jason, seemed to visibly relax.

Here he found another reason not to trust that creature.

You returned your ministrations on Goliath who was still eyeing you warily but let you treat him nonetheless.

Clearing his throat, Damian thanked you before beginning to make his way back to the cave.

“Wait-“ you put and arm out, trying to stop them from walking away so suddenly, “I know that wasn’t the best first impression from Obi. I apologise, but he was just doing what he thought was right at the moment.”

Damian only nodded and Jason raised his brows in surprise at a lack of snarky response from the boy.

“I don’t know where you found him, but Goliath certainly isn’t like any types of dragons I had ever seen before…if you want to, he can come closer to my pack so that they can introduce themselves.”

Damian scanned your face for any signs of malice behind your proposition but after not being able to find any, he accepted. He tried to conceal his excitement at getting his beloved pet to make friends and know more about his kind, but the whole family was quick to catch onto that.

Bruce put a reassuring hand on Damian’s back and encouraged him to walk over them.

One by one, you introduced the dragons to everyone. The light coming from a garden lamp nearby made the creatures less menacing as they looked around curiously, taking in their new surroundings. Helios, the wind dragon and a bunch of other ones where actually pretty chill and very friendly, so much so that they let everybody pet them. Dick appreciated that greatly as he nearly flung himself at a smaller dragon, hugging it. You explained that was a wyvern and her name was Quartz.

“What’s up with their names?”

You looked at Stephanie as you pet Obsidian’s ears, “Oh, we just decided to stick with names that represented either their appearance or abilities,” you explained, “Obi’s completely black, Helios can manipulate and generate wind, Pyro can spew flames out of his mouth-”

Jason grumbled at that, crossing his arms on his chest.

He was the only one who hadn’t gotten closer to the flock. Even Bruce leaned curiously near one of your more relaxed and friendly creatures, not coming too close and definitely analysing its strengths and weaknesses.

Jason scanned his eyes on the scene, before his gaze locked onto yours.

You had a small smile on your lips, your expression unreadable. Were you sizing him up? Were you silently mocking him?

He didn’t like how worked up he got about what you could think of him. He never cared about what other people thought, so why on earth was he now inching closer and closer towards you and Obsidian?

The black dragon only side-eyed him before returning his attention back to Goliath, who was sniffing and ogling his scaled cheeks in interest. Besides him, Damian was talking you ear off about the ice cave he found him in while on a mission.

You nodded with a smile on your face.

“They seem to love them”

You chuckled, “They love the attention and chin scratches, that’s what they love,”

In the distance, you could hear some sirens wailing through the city’s streets.

“Isn’t this whole dragon problem going to mess up your work?”

Jason shrugged, “Not really. All the bad guys that we could get are already in GCPD’s station. If not, they helped scare everyone off, making them barricade in their homes”

Obsidian huffed and you laughed.

“He really doesn’t like me, does he?”

You shook your head in agreement with a laugh.

“He’s just wary of all men. He doesn’t have anything against you, really,” you explained reassuring him, but the way the black dragon was almost mocking him with his challenging eyes told him otherwise.

Jason kept his mouth shut for your sake.

The temperature had dropped significantly and the chilly night seemed to have seeped into everybody’s bones. When you spoke, a cloud of breath vapor came out of your parted lips.

As if one cue, Alfred ushered everybody inside, ignoring their complaints and their claims to be perfectly fine through clattering teeth.

“What about them?”

Bruce glanced back at you and Jason. The dragons were huddled up by your side and were showing signs of sleepiness by drooping their heads.

“We can’t let them out here, B,” interfered Jason, looking at his father, “who knows what sort of crazy stories will circle out tomorrow if they see the very creatures that reigned terror in Gotham the night prior, all cozied up in Wayne manor?”

Bruce gave him a pointed look before composing himself, “they will stay at the batcave with Goliath. I’ve already initiated the dragon protocol when you were gone.”

After tucking your dragons to bed (and after reassuring Obsidian that just one night of not sleeping by your side won’t actively kill him), Alfred showed you the suite guest room before leaving you to yourself. The others had already bid their goodnights and you also met two more members of the vigilante ‘family’, if you could call it that. Oracle and Signal were friendly and showed interest in your occupation, making you promise to introduce them to the flock tomorrow morning.

But now, tossing and turning in your bed after a nice hot shower, sleep didn’t seem like an option for you.

You huffed, clearly frustrated by the weird feeling of emptiness and anxiety that sat heavy in your chest, before completely giving up on getting a nice night of sleep and getting up.

Only clad by a pair of long pyjamas kindly given to you by Alfred, you silently made your way out of your room and into the hallway. The goal was to reach the kitchen to get a glass of water, but as you passed the living room, something outside the large patio windows caught your attention.

It was the broad figure of someone sitting on one of the benches outside. You could barely make out their features due to the lack of lighting, but the familiar green glow you had spotted earlier on was a dead giveaway.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask Hood once you made your way outside and stopped by his right.

He only hummed in response, not glancing up from the ground. He was wearing dark grey sweatpants and a black hoodie with the hood up. His hands were inside the hoodie’s pockets and he sat slightly crouched, like he wanted to make himself smaller.

You tilted your head in curiosity at that.

“Can I sit here? I can’t catch a single ounce of sleep, too,”

He hummed once more, not bothering again to give you a proper answer. You sat down next to him, keeping your distance as you leaned back and gazed up at the sky. You noticed how warm and slightly stuffy it actually was in your room now that you were out here and a light breeze ran past you, raising goosebumps on your cheeks.

You stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Hood decided to speak up.

“Can I ask you something?”

You turned to him, unable to read his expression and nodded.

“Where did you get that lasso?”

It took you a moment to unfog your mind before you realized what he was referring to. Diana’s lasso.

You shrugged, “It was a gift from a very dear friend of mine,” you answered casually, looking at the man next to you, “Why do you ask?”

He didn’t reply immediately, instead he settled for looking at you as if trying to determine whether you were telling the truth or not, his gaze boring right to your side. He decided on the former and sighed, “I’ve seen that lasso before. Everybody here knows that it belongs to one person and one person only-”

“-Diana Prince?”

You saw the way his eyes widened like saucers and chuckled to yourself, “What? You know her, too?”

He took off his hood, an incredulous look on his face, “Everybody knows her! She’s Wonder Woman, for god’s sake, who doesn’t?”

You shrugged again, feigning ignorance on the matter, “All I know is that one day I happened to help a young Amazon out with her jet and taught her how to ride on Obsidian and before she left, she gifted me her lasso,” you explained with a small smile on your face, “she said it would be the only thing that could possibly be able to keep an animal as cunning as a dragon at bay, and wouldn’t you like to know, it’s true!”

The look on Hood’s face was causing you to let another laugh out but you contained yourself. There were clearly gears turning in his head and you patiently waited for the next question you knew was to follow.

The man ran a hand across his face, now fully alert and frustrated with this new piece of information he was provided with.

“But- How did she- …You know?”

“Beats me,” you say sincerely, shaking your head in your own disbelief, “she said she was on a mission with her team someplace near their headquarter that apparently is in space? I was so confused but decided not to prod her on that. She was distressed but told me a portal opened, just like the one I came here in,” you rubbed your neck as you tried to remember what Diana had told you many years ago.

Your eyes lit up as a memory resurfaced. Hood straightened up immediately.

“She said some doctor or professor was trying to prove the string theory was real and went mad? I don’t remember the name, but she said it was someone her team had been dealing with on a regular basis…what was his name,” you looked up to the sky with a pout, as if hoping the stars would give you the piece of information you were missing.

“Was it Mr. Freeze?” Hood began asking, nearly at the edge of the bench with how much he got worked up in such a small window of time, “Or maybe doctor Death? – he was probably in Arkham when the first incident happened though – What about Professor Milo-”

You jumped as you clasped your hands in recognition, “Yes, that one! Milo!”

Hood looked relieved but then his face fell again, “Milo’s been dead for the past three years,” he huffed out, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning back.

“Oh…maybe someone who would continue his legacy or that had the same manic tendencies? Maybe someone who could dwell in sorcery of some kind?”

He seemed to contemplate your words with a slight nod, “I’ll look into it tomorrow after I tell B and the rest”

You muttered an ok and silence fell again between you once more.

“So, you’re not planning on attacking us with your flock of dragons?”

You laughed right at his face as you leaned back, holding your stomach, “You sure are a funny guy, Hood,” you said with a smile, “if those really were my intentions, the city would have been reduced to ashes hours ago.”

He nodded once, “Good, ok…”

“Come on, you can ask me whatever question has been bugging you from the moment I first stepped foot in this place,” you encouraged him, tilting your head to the side.

He seemed to hesitate before he turned to you with a sheepish smile, “It’s just that- you know…dragons? Really? They seem like they shouldn’t even exist with the way they look! – no offence to them or you for that matter, but-”

“What about Goliath?”

“Goliath’s different. He’s way smaller, for starters, but he was also found by Damian during one of his missions, when he came across a tomb of some ancient kings…he’s family, and he really acts like an overgrown puppy,”

You hummed in agreement, “And you think my babies are too feral and only capable of destroying everything they touch?”

“…Yes?”

“If you just hate Obsidian and Pyro you can say so, you know. I won’t get offended; I know they’re a handful.”

The man puffed out his cheeks as he looked away, “I’m still mad about my bike, that’s all…and your dragon is a jerk-”

You gasped at that.

“No, he’s not! Is he very territorial and does he hate all men that come too close to him? Yes, but look at you! You managed to get on his back,” you exaggerated stupor with your hands, “No man’s ever managed to do that before, just so you know,” you smiled playfully as you nudged him with your shoulder, “if anything, I think you can’t stand each other because you two have the same temperament.”

“I am nothing like that moron of a dragon-”

“Stop calling Obsidian names!”

“I’m not calling him anything. I simply deal in facts.”

You snorted at that. The chilly breeze that covered your body in goosebumps was seemingly forgotten as you shook your head in disbelief at his word.

Laugher was shared and the tension on Hood’s shoulders seemed to subdue the more you spent talking out there in the cold.

Another chill ran through you that you couldn’t ignore and you quickly got up, “I’m freezing my ass off here. I’m sorry, Hood, but I must go back before I die of hypothermia-”

“Jason.”

You stilled as if you got struck by lightning. With your mouth still open, you managed to mutter out a Sorry what? To the amused man sitting in front of you.

“My name. It’s Jason. You can drop ‘Hood’…we were keeping our names private in case you had heard of us from somewhere,”

“Oh, yeah. Right, Jason- Uhm, I’m Y/N”

“I know that, you told me back at the botanic garden,”

“Ah, yes,”

You didn’t know why, but knowing Jason’s name sent you into short circuit for a minute. You didn’t expect him to do such a thing, yet again you mulled over how many things didn’t go as expected in just a single night, so you silently accepted it.

“You want to join me on the couch? We can drink some tea and watch something on the tv to pass time?”

His only response was a nod with a smile and you both stepped back inside the manor, now knowing something more about each other.

[chibieggplant]

Doodles ~ Part 3

Trafalgar Law soulmate au | Imagine a magical connection between you and your soulmate, where everything you write on your arm appears on your soulmate's arm, too.

Part 3/3 | Part One | Part Two

“I…” You could only manage one word at this point; any more words were too hard to get out as you stared at the spot on his arm where the bear doodle previously was. The thought of your soulmate existing was already absurd, and you had long given up on trying to believe. However, this…this was proof. The bear doodle, exact, no room for misinterpretation. You were so shocked you could barely even speak at all as you remained still. All you could do was stare forward as your eyes moved to meet his.

Law looked at you, and as soon as he spotted your shock, he instantly understood what you were feeling. After all, his reaction was the same. Law was practically dumbfounded as the realisation hit him. Yet he also felt like the most idiotic person in the entire world. He never wrote back. Not once. Now that his soulmate was right in front of him, he felt both delighted and upset at himself as he continued to stare at you. He was feeling all kinds of emotions all at once. Joy, shock, fear, and so much more that he couldn’t even think of a name for. He felt so happy, yet so stupid; so relieved yet so scared.

Law couldn’t take his eyes off you despite part of him wanting to run away. He could see you trying to process everything as it came flooding in after years of silence. He felt terrible, awful. At this moment, he felt like an idiot for not writing back to you. His feelings were just as chaotic as yours right now. He could barely believe this was real. He had spent an entire decade telling himself he had no time for his soulmate. That he would only bring you trouble; after all that time, it felt surreal to be standing before you, knowing that fate had bound you together.

Law tried to muster up something to say, but it seemed just as challenging for him to speak as it appeared for you. Yet he needed to say something. There was this entire decade’s worth of conversation he needed to make up for. He tried to move his arms, perhaps to hug or touch you in some way, as he felt the need to show you some physical affection after so long, but it was as if they were frozen in place. The next thing he noticed was a tear started to roll down your cheek. His heart froze in his chest at the sight of the tear running down your face. This was what made him break. He could deal with you looking shocked. He could deal with you staring at him blankly. But seeing your tear just sent a spear through him. His vision was becoming blurrier as tears slowly began to fall from his eyes, too. He was a mess, and he suddenly felt so lucky to meet his soulmate finally. He realised he had wasted an entire decade’s opportunity to talk to you. To spend time with you. As this realisation set in, he wanted nothing more than for you to forgive him.

“W-why didn’t you write back?” your voice was full of emotion, and it was hard for you to manage it enough to get the words out. But it had to be said. Your tears quickly turned into a steady stream flowing down your cheeks as you began to break down in your senses. The floodgates had opened, and all the hurt you had felt, all the sadness you had felt and all the pent-up feelings had just been released. Law couldn’t hold it back anymore. He let out a muffled cry as he rushed forward and hugged you as tightly as he could. Law kept his hold tight around you as he buried his head into your shoulder. Your words hurt him. They really hurt him. He didn't want to give you some lame excuse, but the harder he tried to come up with something, the more he realised that his reason was just plain stupid.

“I’m sorry...I’m so sorry…” he said it again and again, his voice slowly becoming even more muffled as he became even more emotional. His heart raced as he remembered all of his own emotions. He was scared. He was scared that you would hate him. Scared that you would never forgive him. Scared to hear your response to his apology. He was scared of…well, a lot of things. He wanted to speak, though; he wanted to explain his stupid behaviour.

Law still couldn’t get the words out, though, as a few more tears streamed down his face. All he could do right now was cling to you as he continued to mutter his apologies. He was scared that you were going to reject him. After a decade of no response, you must despise him. His mind was in a frenzy. It was filled with an ungodly amount of fears and regrets. He hated himself. He should have written back all that time ago. He should have talked to you. He shouldn’t have made you feel so alone. For someone that everyone regarded as intelligent, he felt so stupid. Stupid for not writing back. Stupid for ignoring you. He was foolish for thinking he didn’t have time. Everything just felt so silly and pointless. He was probably the worst soulmate in the entire world. He couldn’t even imagine how much you must hate him for his actions. What a horrible person he was. This is why he never wrote back. He didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve anyone.

Your words sounded broken through muffled sobs as you clung to him and buried your head in his shoulder. “I-i thought you didn’t exist, I-i thought I didn't have anyone…”

Law froze at your words as they hit him like another spear to the heart. The years of silence, the years of false hope. All that wasted time. He was fully aware that he had been thoughtless by disregarding your emotions. But hearing you say it just broke his heart even more. He squeezed you tightly as he tried to suppress his pain. “I’m so sorry…I-”

He was an idiot. He shouldn’t have let this go on so long. He shouldn’t have been so stupid. He should have just listened to his heart and written back. He didn’t want to admit it, but he loved your silly doodles. But he was afraid. He was scared of rejection and convinced that no one could love him. “Please forgive me…I…I…” Law could barely finish. He prayed to every possible god that you could forgive him for his stupidity. He continued to sob into your shoulder, squeezing you as tightly as he could as he repeated his apology. He hoped to god that there was still a chance at forgiveness. He prayed that you could forgive him. Because right now, he could barely stand for how much of an idiot he had been. All this time, he had thought you would be better off without him, so he never wrote back, but all he had done was sabotage himself. He had deprived himself of years' worth of conversations. Years worth of love.

“…I was so afraid you’d hate me, t-that I was…” Law choked out as the last words left his mouth. All the guilt all of the regret came crashing down over him. He felt weak. He felt so damn…stupid. This whole time, he had convinced himself that he was okay with being apart from you. That all of this didn’t matter to him. But at this moment, his whole world came crashing down. You were real. You were his soulmate. And he had made a fool out of himself by avoiding you all these years. He felt sick. He had lost an entire decade of potential happiness all because he was an idiotic, scared little brat. But now, you were real. You were real and in his arms.

“I thought…that I was too broken. I thought that there was no way that you could ever love someone like me. And I was so…” Law broke down again, finally saying the words he had been dying to say all this time. Words he had been denying for a very long time. “I just thought you would deserve someone so much…better…I’d bring you trouble” Law’s grip loosened up slightly, but his arms still wrapped tightly around you as he continued to bury his face into your shoulder. “I…I thought that I didn’t deserve you. I…I‘m not a good person. So, I thought I was doing both of us a favour by not…not writing back. I was going to protect you from myself” He could barely manage to get the words out as fresh tears streamed down his face. It might have seemed like a weak excuse, but it was the truth.

“I-I know I've been the world's biggest idiot, but…the longer I avoided it, the harder it was to write anything. I didn’t even know how I could face you after…after all of this time. I was scared of what you’d say. I thought you’d probably hate-“ His breath hitched. He hated that he had been so afraid. He regretted that he had not given you a chance. He was now aware that as a consequence of this, he might end up losing something he never got the opportunity even to experience.

“It’s okay…” you suddenly said as you held back any more tears, interrupting the torrent of words about to erupt from Law’s mouth. You paused momentarily and leaned back to meet his gaze as you spoke. “It’s okay…you’re here now.”

Law froze as you interrupted him, and those two simple words hit him like a brick to the head. He had been so scared and so worried but...it was okay? You didn’t hate him-no you forgave him. You had found it in you to forgive him even though he had kept away from you for years. Even though he was the one who refused to write you even a single word, you had forgiven him? It was unbelievable. You were still standing there, holding onto him as tightly as he was holding onto you. Law didn't understand. He held onto you with the same intensity, trying to take in the weight of your forgiveness. He was utterly flabbergasted, he shouldn’t have been this surprised. You were just that type of person, you just forgave, and you just accepted. You were a genuine, good person to the very core. It was too much for Law though. He was used to harsh words, not forgiveness. He was used to being hated by most people and not being accepted. He found it difficult to cope with the situation.

Law’s grip loosened slightly, and he began to sob harder. He felt weak, and this was the most weak he had felt in a long time. He was supposed to be strong, but now he was breaking down. He was supposed to be able to take on all of this stress, but he couldn’t. He had no control, and he despised it. “H-how can you?…”Law’s lips were trembling as he tried to get a proper grasp on himself. He couldn’t believe you had forgiven him. Law was supposed to be some irredeemable, evil bastard, yet here he was, having the kindest, most gentle person he had ever known forgive him. He felt his entire body go limp. Tears were pouring down his face at the sudden onslaught of forgiveness. It just all became too much for him. He had been expecting to be hated, hated for the past decade of silence. But it was forgiveness instead. He felt his heart beat rapidly in his chest as he suddenly tightened his grip on you as hard as he could. “W-why are you being so nice to me? I mean, I don't even deserve your kindness…”

“Shhh…” you whispered as your arms wrapped around him as tight as they could. You weren’t going to let him self-deprecate. He’d spent the last decade hating himself and living in regret. You were going to fix that right here, right now. You were going to make sure that he knew what he deserved. And you were going to start by not letting him say any more bad things about himself.

“H-how can you forgive me…after everything? It’s not fair to you…” Law struggled to hold back his emotions as he attempted to protest.

“Because I have spent years believing that I didn't have a soulmate, and now, you're finally here, and it all feels worth it” You gave him a gentle smile as you pulled away slightly and wiped away the last of your tears. You felt like this moment was surreal, and the thought of rejecting him had never even crossed your mind. He was your soulmate, after all.

Law pulled back slightly too, his gaze fixed on you. And when he saw your smile, he felt warmth wash over him. His heartbeat slowed, and he finally felt he could breathe properly again. So this was it. He had finally found what he had been missing all this time - a person whom he could honestly care for and who reciprocated that same level of care. It was more than just a soulmate; it was a connection that had been absent from his life until now. He never even imagined this feeling. It was truly something else. And yet…he spent a decade afraid of this. He spent over a decade avoiding this feeling. He spent so much time, a decade's worth of time, just avoiding something that he always wanted despite telling himself the very concept was absurd. It was unbelievable, and it was downright moronic. But now here he was, with his soulmate. He was so happy, but at the same time, just so full of regret. But he didn’t want to focus on the past anymore. He spent enough time being alone. All that mattered was now.

Law slowly loosened up as his grip on you also loosened. He let out a deep, long sigh. he felt tired, but in the best way possible. It had been so long since he had felt this calm, this…serenity. His heart rate was finally stabilising, and though his breathing was still heavy, he was finally recovering. He took a gentle hold of your hand. He looked into your eyes and smiled. Law was finally done with it; he was finally done with letting the past rule him. He was finally done with letting his insecurities control him, and he was finally done letting the fear of others influence his every action. With this realisation came an entirely genuine smile. He had never really given much thought to his expression, but now it was the most genuine smile he had ever worn. It wasn't fake or forced. It was his natural smile, and he was finally free to let that be. The wave of relief and catharsis he had felt washed over him. It was the best feeling in the entire world...

Law continued to stare into your eyes as he lightly squeezed her hand. He felt at peace. At peace with himself, and at peace with life. Life didn't seem so cruel anymore, and neither did he. He was ready for anything life threw at him now. He just needed to know that you would stick around with him through all of it. Law gently squeezed your hand one more time before he spoke. He was never usually the talkative or the emotional type, but this whole interaction had brought those qualities straight to the surface. Now, he didn't mind talking just a bit more. He wanted to. “y/n…I…I have to ask…”

You smiled and nodded your head reassuringly. There was nothing he could say that would be off-limits. Law could ask you anything he wanted to ask. You had to know his heart before you went any further, right?

He looked you in the eyes as he took a deep breath before continuing. “y/n, could…could you really learn to love me despite all of this? Despite all of the stupid, idiotic actions I've made?” Law was almost afraid of the answer you might give. Would you still care about him if you knew even half the horrible things he had done? And what about everything else about him? What about his past? His personality? His actions? Everything about him was a mess. But…you were his soulmate, weren't you? So, if anyone had the potential to love him for who he was, it would be you.

You already knew the answer to his question, but you took a moment to consider the most effective way to express it. Eventually, you just decided to answer with complete honesty. “…I’ve been waiting years to speak to you. Years to find out who you are…wondering what you look like, what kind of person you are, what your favourite foods are, if you prefer morning or night…” you softly chuckled. “And I would love nothing more than to get to know every little thing about you….” Gently, you whispered your final words, and a faint rosy hue appeared on your cheeks “to fall in love with you…”

Your answer made him smile, and his grip on your hand tightened just the slightest bit. Your words were reassuring, but at the same time, he expected nothing else coming from you. It was a comforting feeling, knowing that someone accepted him. Someone who would even go as far as spending time with him to get to know him. To even consider the possibility of loving him. His cheeks blushed as he felt the warmth wash over his face after hearing your words. “…I-I like onigiri…and I’m more of a night owl than a morning person.” Law softly chuckled; he felt silly, and his cheeks were now a light shade of red. This was all so foreign to him, this light...affection...he could almost get used to it. Law's lips slowly began to form a warm smile. He clasped your hand and softly ran his thumb over your skin. He wasn't sure if you could tell, but this was the happiest he had felt in years.

[kombuuuu]

chaotic late night store trips with hobie. like him reaching for things on tall shelves for you, getting lost multiple times to find things, him “borrowing” your favorite snacks for you, just cute couple shit

Late Nights.

Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

“Love you?” “Don’ sound so sure.”

The jingle of a doorbell interrupted your quiet giggling. The gushing about anything stupid you were doing with your lover getting quieter when the ambience of city streets was lost, stepping inside a large convenience store you and Hobie frequented.

You greeted the store clerk with a loose wave and a sheepish smile, watching as he waved back with a tired smile before Hobie stole your attention again. Crowding over you and slipping a hand around your waist, the level of his tone a whisper when he spoke.

“Stop lookin’ at him. Look a’ me.”

He held a smile on his face, sending it — along with a greeting flick off his fingers— to the store clerk. The attitude contradicting his words.

You grabbed his hand and tugged, walking at a decent speed to the back end of the store, Hobie snickered as you told him off in hushed breath.

“Luv’ it when ya’ demandin’, Babe.”

“Jesus christ Hobie, quiet down!”

—

You had sent him off to go find the laundry detergent. Around 12 minutes ago.

Now he had you going idle by isle, starting at the cleaning supplies — checking every one for the lanky man.

You looked behind the next isle, groaning and snorting to yourself at the man of your subjects. You watched him spin aimlessly in a circle, giving confused looks to the items around him.

He held a large box of laundry powder in his hands, tapping the box rhythmically and bending at the waist. He gave a squint to one of the items and you watched him saunter up next to it, right in front of a worker, and slipped the small item in his sleeve.

He caught a glimpse of you, and winked with a lazy smirk. The sound of your feet tittering against tiled floor alerted the worker of your presence and you gave him an easy smiles, lips forming around a distracting lie as if you had practiced it a million times over.

“Hi! Sorry to bother—,”

“Oh, No stress.” He waved you off and you laughed politely, watching Hobie saunter off, a smug expression on his face.

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head, a scoff playing just behind your tongue — but you refocused, “I was wondering if you could show me where the honey is?,” You laughed sheepishly, feigning obliviousness. Not like you’ve been here a million times or anything. “,I just don’t know which isle to look in, sorry.”

“Oh, again — It’s no bother, Miss.”

He gave you his customer pleasing smile, and started leading you in the direction of the honey, in isle 7 — he said.

When you caught a glimpse of Hobie with his jumper shucked down from its previously fluffed position, enough to hide the pockets of his sweatpants — you averted your eyes once more.

—

“You sly cunt.”

“I ‘ave no clue what you mean, babe.”

You lightly smacked Hobies chest, giving him a stern glare, though, with your lips twitching up into a smile — it really wasn’t very affective.

He twirled away from your attacks, idling the different confections he could chose from, and you promptly gave him a deadpanned look when he flicked his eyes up to the register. He caught your gaze for a second before smirking when his hands slid around your waist, humming to the random pop song playing through the speakers.

Not his tune exactly, but he’d heard it enough times to know the lyrics.

Indoctrination, probably.

“Oi?”

You turned to scan the items, different cans and bottles of whoever-knows-what being ignored by you, until you reached your favourite.

“Yeah?”

His hands squeezed your waist again, and he moved closer beside you, leaning against you lightly.

“Wh— Hobie, behave.”

“I am—…,”

He rubbed small circles over your hips and pulled you slowly, dragging your body closer to his so you were squished up against him.

You tipped your head up, looking at him above you, and he grinned down at you.

“,Just wan’ t’ warm up, y’kno’?”

“Oh, i’m sure.”

You focused back on the drinks, and when you saw your drink of choice, stacked high above all the others — on the top fucking shelf, you sighed exasperated, knowing Hobie would rather hold that shit over your head until the day he died if you asked for help.

Hobie caught onto where you were looking, his smirk only growing wider.

A low hum left his lips and you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him prettily.

You broke off him, and he let you, watching as you reached to the top, begrudgingly bouncing on your tippy-toes, and huffing when your fingers just grazed the drink.

He chuckled, and you continued — your efforts in vain as you even hopped to try and snatch it.

Hobie just watched you, whistling a short wolf whistle to tease as you tried so hard.

“Need help, sugar?”

“No.”

He snorted, quickly approaching behind you and pressing his form over yours. His hips slot nicely against your own.

When people say you fit perfectly with him, you would smile politely — then roll your eyes the moment they turned. But now? when his chest pressed firmly against your back, and the weight of him settled heavily on yours? You might’ve agreed.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

You glared at the poor coke cam in front of you, taking out your embarrassment on the inn once of an inanimate object, subconsciously apologising to it.

Hobie made sure to push up harder against you, laughing under his breath as he muttered a thinly veiled lie.

“Push’t it back, sorry babe.”

You looked up, watching him graze his fingertips slowly along the bottle of your desire, and cursed the way your heart stuck in your throat when he finally closed his hand over it.

He pushed back casually, slipping away from you with practiced ease, and went to search for his own drink — even going as far as to toss your own in the air, and catch it playfully. Like he was bored.

The dumbfounded expression on your face was wiped the moment you got a hold of yourself, taking sure steps quickly towards your partner, while he pretended not to notice you in his peripherals.

“Hobie - Hobart Brown, you little fuck—,”

“,Sorry, sweethear’, im focusin’ ‘ere.”

“Oh my god—,”

“,Lot a choices, y’kno’.”

“I’m gonna beat your ass.”

“Uhuh,” He flicked your forehead and dodged your retaliating punch with a gleeful grin dawning his features, stupidly pretty fling in his eyes.

“,I’ll be sure t’ lay still, maybe you’ll ‘ave a chance.”

You crossed your arms, tipping your head up at him.

“I’d have a chance either way — you just don’t want to admit it.”

“Oh, sugar — lie t’ me, but not t’ yourself too.”

His tone was a sultry tease, expression a mocking pout — you rolled your eyes, the start of fluster making your face warm to touch.

“I’ve never lied ever.”

He snorted, bent to grab at an item, and paused to give you a look.

You gave him one right back.

“Ever.”

He grinned again, and turned away with a shake of his head.

—

BONUS +

“Hobie? Baby did you get the detergent?”

You tipped your head back from your place in the kitchen, looking over at your lover sitting laid back on the couch, watching whatever chic flick he landed on.

He turned his head towards you, looking at the groceries laid out to be put away.

You watched as his face twitched, a small smile fighting its way onto his lips.

“Hobie.”

“Sugar—“

—

BONUS ++

“And this is supposed to make my face softer?”

“It’s a cleanser, baby. It makes you clean.”

You raised your eyebrows, smiling at the brit.

“Hence the name. Cleanser.”

He slanted his eyes, glaring with an amuse of his own.

“I don’ appreciate your tone, love.”

You rubbed the cleanser in soothing circles along the expanse of his cheeks, admiring his high cheeks and perfect bone structure.

“Mm. Be quiet. Works better if you don’t talk.”

He puffed, slouching closer to you.

—

You grabbed a damp face towel, wiping at his face gently.

“Was tha’ true?”

You looked up from his jaw to his eyes, going to pat the excess water from his face.

“What true?”

“The talkin’ thing.”

You laughed abruptly, choking a bit on your own voice.

“No—,” You spoke through your giggles, watching as his face dropped into one of faux offence.

“,—No, that was the most blatant lie—”

Hobie grabbed the towel straight from your hand, whipping it towards your stomach. You only laughed harder.

“You ass’ole!”

“I’m sorry!”

You snatched the towel back off him grabbing his face in your hands again. He softened into a genuine smile, chuckling softly while you quietened down.

“Love you?” You tried, sheepishly trying to rid the remaining giggles.

“Don’ sound so sure.” He jabbed, tone in a light jest.

You snorted, repeating, with a now renewed definite.

“I love you.”

He softened further, hands caressing over your own, and a loving tremble in his bones.

“Love you too, [Name]”

“…You said that so britishly.”

“Give us one damn moment—.”

—

RAHHHHHH LONGER THAN IT WAS SPOSED T BE

also the art you sent im putting it here

anyone know the artist t this 🤭🤭❓⬇️

[i-dared-myself]

the way your previous headcanons mention how chaotic they'd be on your period and i can vividly see that lmao

like theyd be panicking and making it a big deal more than you would

but i imagine that if you were to feel any pain, theyd feel so bad and baby you so much shdhggjjh

They’re absolutely chaotic when you’re on your period. I mean, have you met them? Drama is their whole thing.

I have previously written something about it here in case you haven’t read it yet, but here are some bonus ideas:

•Chan is an absolute overstressed mess. He’s googling every possible symptom known to man and every type of way he can help. He’s keeping cold drinks away from you, hot drinks away from you, and yet he’s insisting you stay hydrated.

•Chan is scrambling to do everything for you, which is very much so unnecessary, but it’s nice that he cares. It’s amusing until he’s trying to get you booked for blood work so you can be tested for anemia.

•As I’ve previously mentioned in the headcanons, Hyunjin gets sympathy pains that are worse than yours. You’ll both be curled up on the couch groaning, and Chan thinks Hyunjin needs his appendix removed. Like, he panics and almost drives him to the hospital.

•But it’s not just sympathy pains. He gets the cramps, the nausea, and even the cravings. You’ll be craving scrambled eggs with cheese and then he’ll be crying about that ice cream place a couple blocks down.

•Seungmin is good to have around on your period. He tells jokes about it, but not in the misogynistic ‘women on their periods, right?’ It’d more of a ‘Is your period cramping your style? Hee heee heee.’

•But he also smuggles you chocolate from Jisung’s stash. He’s not just the funny guy to chill with while bleeding, he’s helpful. He’ll let cuddle with him during a movie, or whine about how much your boobs hurt.

•Jeongin is awkwardly nice. Not awkward about periods- awkward because he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He just kinda hovers nearby until you mention something he can do for you.

•You don’t even know he’s getting you your water bottle until he’s pressing it into your hands. Whispering to Hyunjin about how you’re sort of cold? Jeongin heard and is sprinting down the halls to get you his spare blanket.

•Changbin gives you his hoodies to wear. They’re comfy and make you cry with how nice he is, so he hugs you. He’s strong enough to pick you up, and he carries you over to the couch to cuddle for an hour straight.

•He flicks on a rerun of a comedy movie, to which you fall asleep to. He quietly takes you to your room and tucks you in without waking you. Changbin stands guard outside your room after that, to ward off any hyper members.

•Jisung will binge an entire drama with you. Like you’ll only take breaks for bathroom trips and when Chan makes you go to bed or get off the couch. He’ll bring over a bucket of popcorn with chocolate hidden at the bottom and turn on the cringiest, most cliché drama he can find.

•Jisung makes fun of the stupid lead’s decisions, and will not judge when you thirst after the love interest. Except maybe a little. But he doesn’t say anything, which is what counts.

•Minho stays out of your way. He knows with seven other worried and slightly confused men crowding you, you need your space.

•That’s not to say he doesn’t care, it’s just that he has other ways of showing support. Minho’s way is not bothering you 24/7. He’ll make sure you’re still breathing every couple hours if you’re alone, but that’s it.

•Felix is (mostly) calm. He understands that this is a normal thing for women to go through, so he’s not worried. This is totally normal and fine, and do you look pale? Because you seem kind of pale to him. Maybe you should be eating more protein.

•But he’s calm. You’re fine and don’t need him, AND WHY ARE YOU LEAVING THE HOUSE ALONE WHAT IF YOU PASS OUT IN THE STREETS AND SOME NEFARIOUS CHARACTERS KIDNAP YOU?!?

Lmao but you’re right that they make more of a deal of it than you

[satcnus]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ       𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐘

𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐘   - n.  balanced proportions. also: beauty of form arising from balanced proportions.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. ex-military widower ✖ runaway stray

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒. older protective male x vulnerable teen fem. widower x runaway. paternal elements within romance. male saviorism. size differences. opposites attract. ride or die. hurt, comfort, healing. v-rginity loss. dead dove do not eat.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! The following original fiction contains potentially triggering content, including: extreme age gap, homicide, child and spousal death, kidnapping, s-xual as-sault (background only), r-pe recovery, child abuse (background only), post-traumatic stress disorder and disabling mental illness, and mild ddlg themes (clothing, nicknames). Read at your own discretion.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐎𝟑 — EARLY RELEASE. 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑.

Ninety-eight degrees. A Walmart fan rumbling loudly, gyrating its wind back and forth like a pendulum over the entirety of the classroom. When it struck her, her test lifted up into its breeze, trying to be carried off. The girl snatched it back down, as though she would be finishing it at all anyway. 

Her hair, too, billowed up, catching in the fan’s grace of cooled air. The large, fluffy curls she’d worked meticulously to form her dark mane into were now frizzed and returning back to their usual, tighter shape at the very ends. A scent of warm vanilla emanated from her form. An essence of timid, anxious reticence, too. The steel wrapped around the far end of her number two pencil was chewed slightly, out of stress. The minutes in the hour were pushing by without her consent. She wasn’t able to keep up with them, even though everyone else was. 

As the bell rang in the overhead speakers, a stampede erupted. Forty chairs scraping on linoleum. Animals set free. Now they barreled down the previously empty hallway in some chaotic display of primitivity. Nara still sat at her desk, chewing on her lip, trying to understand the twenty-third question in that seemingly endless book of them. Her leg bounced, ruffling her pale white skirt against her skin. Below, her converse squeaked against the linoleum.

“Ms. Chae?” a gentle, soothing voice called. “Ms. Chae, unfortunately, you’ll have to put your pencil down now.”

Nara felt tightness in her chest as graphite met desk. A swallow brought reality rushing in. Last night, her father had hit her so hard it’d made her dizzy. Today she’d had to use several layers of makeup to cover the bruise he left. Today she had to pretend her face wasn’t throbbing, as she sat down to take her first attempt at the SATs. Today, she had only made it through twenty-three questions of the first section in her SATs. She had failed. Despite trying to prepare, she had failed.

A whirlwind of potential futures whipped through her mind as she stepped out of the classroom, numb. If she didn’t get a good score on her SATs then she wouldn’t get into a good college. And if she didn’t get into a good college, then she wouldn’t get a good job. And if she didn’t get a good job, then she would wind up like her mother—slapping rubber bands around her arm and shoving needles into her veins just to feel some semblance of life again. Begging on the street corner with some sign claiming she was a disabled veteran. 

The girl’s eyes were glossing with stifled back tears as the weight of her inadequacy nestled down, densely, into her chest. 

As she turned the corner to head down the B wing towards for her gym period, she caught sight of him. 

Constantino.

Even though she tried to look pretty, he never noticed her. No one ever did. Not like Erica Mahone. No amounts of pearly white bows pinned up in the darkness of her hair, or soft strappy pinks, or flowy, airy whites could match up to Erica Mahone. 

It was like some fucked up, real life rendition of all those stupid high school nineties movies. 

Erica was the head cheerleader, who, of course, turned everyone’s heads everywhere she went. Her parents were probably the richest in the entirety of Arcadia High’s school district. She had everything she could ever want, and it was completely unfair. She even had a car. She just got her license and already had a car. Meanwhile, Ha-neul refused to teach Nara how to drive at all, let alone get her a car, despite literally being a mechanic (albeit a shitty, scamming one).

In a sea of melanin tanned by the Arizonian sun, Erica Mahone was pale and blonde and Elnara would never be her. She had the looks they airbrushed on magazines—sixteen and platinum blonde with hair fallen all the way down the length of her back and had double-Ds. The only reason Nara knew that was because Erica had made sure everyone knew that. Meanwhile, Nara was going to be sixteen soon and had absolutely nothing to show for it. Sometimes she would get up early and study herself in the mirror and try to push her breasts together to imagine what it would be like to have cleavage. To feel pretty and feminine. To be wanted by boys. To not blend into the background. 

It was so unbelievably, goddamn unfair that she had to be walking towards B wing at the same exact time as Nara, and had slapped the soda Nara was sipping at from her hands. Erica and her band of lackeys, all dolled up to… go learn Science, erupted in laughter as the amber liquid went skating across the tile. Students walking the opposite way shuffled out of the way. Nara stopped in her tracks, sighing, violently angry but not enough to let anyone see her cry. 

Fuck gym class.  Fuck this school. Fuck fucking Erica Mahone. And fuck Constantino, too, for fucking existing and never even fucking looking at her. As she turned, she watched him walk in Erica’s direction, all swagger and devastating beauty. Everybody wanted Constantino because he was Greek and looked like some teenage version of Henry Cavill. Everybody, including Nara, because she was stupid enough to still be afflicted with hopes of being like one of those girls from those stupid nineties movies. The jock suddenly realizing the nerdy, worthless girl when she took her glasses off and put on some makeup. 

Well, Nara didn’t wear glasses and apparently her makeup did something different from Erica’s, because Constantino walked right past her and wrapped his arms around Erica, giving her the comfort that she probably didn’t even need. Giving her the attention she definitely didn’t even need.

It was so fucking, fucking, fucking unfair. 

Nara was seething, trying her hardest to grit her teeth and huff back her impending tears when she walked back into the lunch room. The last lunch period was beginning, and she guessed she would be eating lunch again instead of going to gym class because she was—what? A fucking fat ass? Apparently. There she was, with her newly gained thirty pounds, all pudgy in all the places that Erica wasn’t, asking the lunch lady if she could get another root beer because she dropped hers. The lunch lady recognized her, took pity on her most days, and gave her another serving of everything, along with her root beer. 

Nara swung her bookbag off her shoulder and sat down, dejectedly, at the end of a table in the back of the cafeteria. Alone. Always alone. 

She could feel the fat in her lovehandles as she pulled out her phone to message her online friend back on Discord. The only reason she’d been eating so much lately, and intentionally packing on more weight, was because she had decided it for good this time, and she wanted to make sure she had some sort of fail-safe if things didn’t work out and she struggled to feed herself for whatever reason. 

24 days. She was counting down to it. She’d chosen early June for a reason. It was so she could disappear quietly, never having to torture herself with the thought that no one at school even noticed she was gone. This way, no one was even at school to not notice her non-presence. 

> hows school??? you ready to leave that dump yet? :mockingsponge: > ugh TOTALLY ready > erica’s barbie ass just smacked my soda out of my hand…… > awwww, i’m sorry kitty!! :sadbunny: did you punch her in the face??? cause u should have punched her in the face <3333333

Nara looked up from her phone, scrunching one corner of her lips into her cheek. She sighed, typing back. 

> no, i’m not violent you know that > I just cant wait to leave tbh > That’s okay, kitty <3 u’ll be rocking it in las vegas soon!! we are gonna party hardyyy A small smile graced her lips. All of that anger towards Erica was beginning to dissipate.  > i can’t wait!! alright i gotta go! I’ll ttyl <3 love u J > love u girly pop! 

She set her phone down after the small fib. The truth was that she was just… tired. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could fix. She’d already hit her social quota for the day. For her life, really. Despite being an extrovert, naturally, her true personality had been stifled down and stomped out by the never-ending loop of abuse and trauma and bullying. 

This plan was her ticket out.

Even if she had to take the SATs in Nevada, she’d do it, because she couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t take living here in this hell with Ha-neul and Erica and fucking Constantino anymore. She needed to get out. She needed to get the entire fuck out.

And Jaime was going to help her. 

Jaime was going to be her savior. 

Jaime had an apartment, and a car, and a job. 

Jaime was her ticket out.

Just twenty-four more days. Three weekends and some change. She could do this. She could make it. 

Elnara picked up her fork and ate her second serving of spaghetti for the day, knowing that soon she would never have to eat this shitty cafeteria food ever again.

---

Tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow morning, everything would change. 

Tomorrow morning, Elnara would no longer be the beaten girl that nobody liked or even looked at. 

Tomorrow morning, Elnara wold be free. Finally free. She would never step foot back in this god forsaken state ever again in her life. 

She just had to make it a few more hours. She could do that. Though, today, her usual routine felt like each step took eons to complete. Getting the kids ready for school—Aras for preschool and Ji-eun for elementary. Walking them up to the bus stop and giving them kisses goodbye and waving at them as their respective buses departed down the pothole-ridden road. Then she’d headed back to their 5th floor three bedroom apartment, past all the stinky, moldy carpet in the hallways and staircases, shoved her key in the door lock and jiggled it until it let up. 

After spending her time doing her makeup—all drugstore brand because apparently only the Ericas of the world were worth Sephora—and choosing her nicest thrifted outfit, she left for school an hour after the morning bell had already rung. What measly money she’d scrounged up in the couch cushions would serve her well enough to get a seat on the city bus, and ride it down to the stop one block up from the high school. Then came the most torturous part of it all. She’d almost chosen to skip it entirely today, but in some weird way, Nara wanted to savor her last day at school. She wanted to make peace with it, and enjoy the things she so often abhorred only because they were now contrasted with fast-approaching freedom.

For once in her life, her school day was not terrible, but it did drag out much too long. Long enough that her final period teacher, Mrs. Pritchard, had claimed the bell didn’t dismiss them and made them wait an extra two minutes before giving her permission for everyone to go home. For no reason at all except to exercise her power over them. The one point of contention in her day, because the city bus did not operate within the same parameters as the school district buses. The time school ended was already cutting it perilously close to when the city bus left. With two minutes eaten up, she’d have to jog that block back up to the bus stop, and hope the bus driver today was Mr. Carlos. Mr. Carlos knew her and knew why she took the city bus, because he knew her dad, and he knew her Noona, before she got sick and couldn’t ride the bus to Walmart on Saturday mornings anymore. 

Noona had always liked to pick up some orange juice, Tropicana brand—nothing else otherwise she wouldn’t drink it, and a big container of pickling salt so she could complete all her pickling for the week. That was the best part about going over to Noona’s, aside from the old woman always passing Nara a secret five or ten dollar bill. She always had some kind of vegetable fermenting, and her house always smelled amazing because of it. In that sour, pungent, stinky delicious way that spoke of how big of a party your gut bacteria would have after munching on those homemade pickled cucumbers or beets or napa cabbage. Whatever Noona could get her hands on, it would go in a mason jar and be filled with a variety of seasonings, water, and pickling salt. 

It was a damned shame that it was the dementia that got her. She had a near perfect clean bill of health otherwise. Nara remembered how sobering it was to learn that you could do everything right, eat right, exercise, pray… and it could all still mean nothing in the end. 

Now Noona’s pickles sat in unopened, sealed jars in her shared nursing home bedroom. 

The worst that Medicare could buy. 

Lord knows Ha-neul couldn’t give a damn whether nobody changed her diaper or gave her her meds on time. 

Now, as the city bus descended with a rushing of air and a quick-succession beeping, Nara felt the remorse of an action not yet taken slither down her spine. The double doors of Serene meadows shut softly behind her. As she stepped in, past the vestibule, the smack of putrid, mingling body odors hit her nose. She scrunched her expression against it, quickly diving for her usual wear of an N95 mask smeared with Vick’s vapor rub, left out by the receptionist, Tyla,  solely for Nara’s using. 

She would miss these people, strangely enough. Mr. Carlos. Tyla. She would miss them more than she missed her father. Or Noona. 

God, she was going to miss Noona. 

As she stepped into Hana’s room, her roommate was snoring softly, inclined in his hospital bed. Noona had the bed by the window, which had been championed by the nursing home as some special treatment. A great view… out at a parking lot. 

It was okay. Hana didn’t spend much time looking out the window. She spent most of her time looking at the pictures in her gardening magazine from several years ago.

“Hey, Noona,” Nara chimed as she swiped past the curtain. Hana was at that gardening magazine again. She hadn’t realized Nara was there yet. Nara dropped her bookbag in the least roach-infested corner. 

“Noona?” she chimed again, this time a bit louder. It looked like her hearing aids weren’t in. Of course they weren’t. Why would Noona need to hear anything? Hearing was for the rich. 

She suddenly looked up, startled with a soft sigh of ah, and then she softened, giving Nara a gentle, loving smile. Nara could see, in her eyes, she didn’t recognize her. She still smiled at Nara with the same love, though. That was the thing about Noona. She loved everyone, whether she knew them or not. 

“Oh, hello!” Noona said, her voice in a soft falsetto. Her hands trembled as she went to hold Nara’s between them. “Hello, um…” she hummed, thinking, as she patted Nara’s hand over and over. “Um…”

“Nara, Noona. It’s me, Nara,” she tried, but as the words came out she felt the gravity of what she was doing. The last time she would ever greet Noona. The last time she would ever remind her that she had a family. That she had someone who loved her.

The girl sniffled as she forced a smile, flushed from the lips to the cheekbones. “It’s me. Your granddaughter!”

“Ohhhh,” Noona sighed, giving Nara a wider smile. Behind her eyes, she could still see that the old woman didn’t recognize her. 

Still, she freed one of her hands from Noona’s, careful not to scratch her paper thin skin in the process, and pulled up a chair. One leg hung over the other as she crossed them, and leaned in a bit closer, still speaking loudly. 

“Noona, how was your day?” she asked, trying to push back the wavering in her voice. As she leaned in, she noticed a smell, pushing forward through all of the other smells that the vick’s barely concealed. A quick dart of her vision told her that Noona had been sitting in her own feces. Again. All day. Again.

Her jaw tightened. 

Noona hadn’t answered her. She was still looking at Nara with those dreamy, clueless eyes. “Oh, such a pretty girl,” she remarked in Korean, patting her hand again. 

“Thank you, Noona,” Nara responded, giving another forced but brief smile as she tried to search around for the comically large remote attached to the bed, so she could press the call button.

The bed began to beep in these long dings as they waited for someone, anyone, to come to her attention. 

“Noona, I… I took a test today,” she offered, trying her damn hardest not to try. Her face was flushing more. Her eyes glossing. “I think I did really good!” she whispered, emotionally. She caught her heavying breaths with a tight-lipped smile. “I’m gonna go to college. So I won’t be coming back, for awhile,” she tried, her words gasping out slightly. 

Noona still had no idea who she was. 

Nara’s eyes squeezed shut for a long moment, as a single tear darted down from both eyes. 

“Ohhh,” Noona sighed, beginning to rub at Nara’s knuckles. Empathizing without knowing why. 

Nara sniffed hard, trying to compose herself, as she wiped at her tears. 

“Did you hear me, Noona?” she asked, voice high. “It’s me, Nara. I’m your granddaughter… I’m going to—college—and I’m not going to be around for awhile.”

Her lips, the same rounded, supple shape as Noona’s became damp with her tears. Noona’s eyebrows etched inward in her confusion. Nara squeezed her eyes shut again, this time out of frustration, as more tears darted down. She might have leaned back and sobbed into her hands if not for the CNA finally showing up. 

“What?” he asked, his tone inconvenienced; bored and irritated. As though he was being held at gunpoint to work here and hated the elderly with a passion. 

It sent Nara over the edge. Her own lilted voice left her in a vicious retort, sharpened with an edge of pent up anger. “Can you please change my grandmother’s diaper? Please.” Then she huffed, tucking her hair behind her ears before crossing her arms over her chest, avoiding the man’s eyes. Her first act of indignation. Perhaps freedom would bring out the worst in her. Or… was it the best? To finally have her voice? To demand something of a man, and not the other way around?

The CNA—a portly, redheaded man with more freckles than empathy—sneered at her before delivering a curt, “I’ll get to it.”

Nara’s jaw tightened. Her breaths heaved through her chest deeper. Her cheeks—crimson beneath the sterile white of her N95. 

She knew, she knew that this piece of shit didn’t treat the other residents like this. She knew he neglected Noona for a specific, sinister reason, because she had visited a few hours early one day and caught him cleaning up Noona and snickering with another CNA while he mocked her in a sing-song voice with a remark lined with hard consonants and racism. 

Chickity-china-the-chinese-chicken… Chickity-china-the—

He’d stopped only when he’d realized Nara was standing in the corner, staring at him, boring a hole into his back with a stare that could’ve killed. 

She’s Korean, she wanted to defend, spit it out in his face. Let him feel the stupidity of his own racism. She hadn’t been so brave back then as she was now. 

“Do it now!” it exploded from her dampened lips. A second later, she sunk back in. As though her mind remembered that she wasn’t allowed to speak to men like that. “Please,” she added, softened around its edges by fear and fear only. 

He rolled his eyes before giving her a very tight, faux smile and speaking in a sickening, repulsive sweet voice. “I’ll get right on that, Mrs. Chae.”

Then he left, and Nara ignored the automatic tag of a husband’s surname attributed to her own; ignored the microaggression of misogyny. Like she needed to be reminded that she was a woman and women marry men and men don’t take their wives’ names. She didn’t need to be betrothed to a man to use her voice. She had discovered it through grueling, unending condescension. Being talked down to day in and day out by her father. Being told, very explicitly, how worthless of a daughter she was. 

She’d like to see how worthless she was tomorrow when Ha-neul had nobody to cook him dinner. She was almost frothing at the mouth to see his karma in action. To watch him fumble, like an idiot, with trying to make dough or even boil a fucking egg. She had turned into a five star Michelin chef for him, only to constantly be met with sneers of how it wasn’t very good, it was too lacking in flavor, or too strong in flavor, or it “just doesn’t taste like Noona’s”, as if he ever gave a single shit about Noona. Who was sitting there beside her bed right now, making sure she got cleaned up so she could sleep tonight without her paper skin growing sore and rancid and the delicacy of her vaginal flora getting thrown into an infection? Was it him? No. It was never him. It was always her. It was always her, and Nara was done. She was done with her father, and she was done with this asshole CNA, and she was done with this entire city. 

The girl watched the CNA clean up her grandmother and dress her in a new, clean adult diaper and then chewed him out for being so heartless. “How would you like sitting in your shit all day?!” she accused, her high, lilted voice somehow viper sharp. It felt good. Powerful. 

She stayed with Noona until she fell asleep, and then quietly slipped one of those mason jars of pickled cauliflower and peppers into her bag, and left to go get the kids from school. Ji-eun intentionally joined an afterschool program so Nara would have more time to get to the school bus stop and pick her up while Ha-neul stayed home and drank after work. The pre-school was next to a daycare that one of Aras’ teachers helped him to every day. That closed at six, so she had plenty of time. 

Another mind numbing ride on the bus. She picked apart her unfinished homework and threw the pieces on the bus’ steel floor like she was picking petals from a flower. 

“Hey, bunny!” she exclaimed as Aras came bouncing up to her, throwing his arms around his older sister. A barrage of quickly-blurted, excited ramblings about his day at school was immediately recited. He kept on going all the way until they were stepping off the bus and walking towards Ji’s bus stop. While they were still on the fancy school bus as Aras put it, he showed her his finger paintings he did that day, complete with glued on macaroni and sparkles. Nara naturally congratulated him and told him it was beautiful and he was so talented. She tried not to let her emotions overtake her. 

She knew this would be hard, but she hadn’t gambled on it being this hard. A few weeks ago, when it was all just this distant, far away concept that would be coming to fruition, the teenager hadn’t been able to feel the full extent of her grief over leaving them. Somehow, it felt like mourning their deaths, but even worse than that. It felt like sentencing them to a life in prison with no prison guard to stop the evil that went on behind the bars. It felt like smiling in his face and pulling a trigger. It felt like giving him a kiss on his chubby, giggly cheek and stabbing him right through the abdomen. 

Nara gave Aras her phone to play a game on and distract him as she stared, very intentionally, out the window at the city passing by. In her reflection, she could see her tears glistening off her cheeks, her throat silent and untelling of them.

After picking up Ji from the after school bus, Nara walked them both back to their apartment, her siblings both happily holding either of her hands. She was clutching theirs so tight that Ji whined at her. “Naraaa! Stop!” she fussed, and Nara sniffled, quietly apologizing. Ji didn’t notice she was crying. Nara thanked herself for having saved up to get Ji a phone. She was too buried in TikTok to realize that something very, very terrible would be happening to her life come tomorrow afternoon. 

---

The door thudded shut behind them and Ji-eun and Aras immediately took a beeline towards their room, as they always did. His presence was already pushing up against the corners of the apartment. Seeping through the house like a stench that out-weighed the mold in the vents. 

Nara felt herself tense, so automatically, and shut up down to her footsteps. 

She walked, unconsciously, on the tips of her toes after leaving her converse by the door beside her siblings’, and filled up the mop to get started on her chores. 

While the mop bucket was filling, she washed her hands and began preparing Ha-neul’s dinner, which would be different from what the rest of them ate. He wanted steak. The kids weren’t allowed to eat steak. Only he was allowed to eat steak.

She listened, over her own breaths, for any changes in his movements. He was on the couch, snorting and spitting in that stupid, disgusting old coffee can. She could smell his intoxication from here. 

“Nara!” he called, suddenly, his baritone voice slurred.

“Yes?” she called back, her voice small, careful around its tone. 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘yes’? Is that how you talk to your father?” he snarled. She could hear his boots hit the ground. 

She swallowed. Tensed up. Prepared herself. He was coming to hit her. It happened every night now. She counted. 

“No,” she whispered, lilted, small. 

“What? Speak up.” His demand came as he stepped into the kitchen, shirt off, sweating and flushed from all the drinking. He stood over her. Tall. Brooding. Powerful. Terrifying.

She dipped her gaze, finding root at the permanently stained tile beneath their feet that he so often cited as “still dirty” even after she’d gone over it thrice with boiling water and bleach. 

“No, I’m sorry, Abeonim,” she tried again, this time louder. He never allowed her to call him Appa. Not anymore. He’d made sure that she understood her place, even as she grew into womanhood. Forcing her to call him by the formal honorific of his title as her father. When he wasn’t around, she referred to him as his first name with nothing attached. The ultimate disrespect.

Nara could see his shoulders lifting as his chest heaved, a gowling growing in his throat. She shut her eyes quickly, trying to level her breath, as she waited. Waited for the dizzying slap. Waited for the violence without reason. This would be the last time he ever beat her. This would be the last time. 

“Heomuhada,” he spit. The harshest version of useless he could speak. His knuckles came swift and damning. Her cheekbone made a sickening sound against its thrat. 

She could feel the bruise of it already accumulating, throbbing because it was the same place he’d hit her last night. Her teeth and jaw throbbed too, left in the imprint of his malice.

Somehow, still, his insult stung harder than his hand.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” he seethed, accent thick. “I have been waiting all day. I’m starving.”

“It’ll be finished soon, Abeonim,” she whispered, abdomen tense. Like walking on eggshells. 

“Hurry up,” he sneered. The condiments in the fridge clattered as he ripped its door open and took out another beer, placing his empty one on the counter, just feet from the trash bin. As he went back into the living room, belching before taking a swig, Nara timidly placed the empty beer in the trash, careful to not make noise. If it did, Ha-neul would take offense, and be right back in the kitchen, accusing her of believing he was an alcoholic—which he was.

Dinner was finished as quickly as she could muster. Steak, asparagus and buttery mashed potatoes at his text demand. Kimchi soup for herself and her siblings. She brought their bowls of soup to their bedroom, gave them each hugs, and closed the door behind her with as soft of a thud as she could manage. 

Then, she joined Ha-neul on the couch, sitting on the other end with her legs curled in under her. Postured tensely. This was another rule of his. He had taken offense to her not wanting to be around him as well. She was now forced to eat dinner beside him, as he got drunker and drunker, yelled at the athletes on the television, and berated her for her “terrible” cooking. 

Only after he was already halfway through his steak did he suddenly slap his knife and fork down on the plate, forcefully toss it onto the living room table, and inhale this deep, angry sigh through his nostrils. He was glaring over at her. She kept her eyes forward and down, trying to take small sips of her soup, but she couldn’t stop the way her hand trembled. 

“You overcooked it.” 

“I’m sorry,—”

“Don’t fucking talk back to me, Elnara!” he spit. Seething. Livid. He had five more empty beer bottles sitting on the floor beside the sofa. 

She hugged around herself with one arm, holding her soup with the other. 

“I-I’m sorry,” she breathed, voice hitching as she began to tremble.

Without warning, he stood up, snatched a fistful of her hair and launched her body down, into the floor. On the way, she struck her head. Her hot soup spilled everywhere, burning into her skin. When she hissed, automatically, at it, Ha-neul’s boot came ramming into her side. Defeated, submitting, the girl curled into herself, cowering, lifting her arms up to block her face. 

“I’m sorry!” she cried, sobbing, unable to stop sobbing. 

Ha-neul went quiet, and then he scoffed. 

“Clean this shit up. I can’t believe how dirty you let it get in here.”

“Okay—” she whispered, scrambling to scoop up as much of the solids of her soup into the now empty bowl. 

While Ha-neul went to his room, with his plate of food, Nara was left cleaning the last serving of soup off the carpet. She spent another hour spraying it down, scrubbing at the red stain, and then steam cleaning it when she couldn’t get it out. It wasn’t until she was bent over, scrubbing the brush furiously into the carpet that she realized something. 

Tomorrow… she would be gone.

If the stain remained, she wouldn’t be here for him to hit her over it. 

Her heart soared. 

The guilt for her siblings mixed in with that excitement, and made her both sick and thrilled as she shoved the steam cleaner’s handle back in its holder, wheeled it back to the bathroom, and dumped its dirtied water in the toilet. 

The rest of her chores were completed not for Ha-neul, but for her siblings. She wanted them to have a clean place, at least for a little bit, after she left. Everything was scrubbed shiny by the time Ha-neul’s snores carried to her. She hoped he would do everyone a favor and die in his sleep. Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d choke on his own vomit. That would be something, wouldn’t it?

Nara’s fingernails scratched pink lines into her tanned, deep olive complexion as she turned on the shower. The combination of dryness and irritation from all the chemicals always made her so itchy. Now, that combined with dried up kimchi soup was just a recipe for disaster. 

She took her time in the bathroom, relaxed now that her father was asleep, and let herself hum against the steam; be renewed by it. Tomorrow, she’d never have to step foot in this house ever again. Just ten more hours. She gently opened up the kids’ bedroom door once she was clean and dressed, to pick up Aras, and climb into Ji-eun’s tiny mattress, and cuddle them both. 

Her fingers trailed soothing scratches up and down Aras’ back as he picked at the fuzzies on her shirt, and eventually snored softly against her bosom. Ji was curled up into her side, not quite asleep yet but not quite awake still. 

As the night drifted on, Nara’s heart finally released its anxiety, and allowed her to fall to rest, if even just for a few hours. The position she was in wasn’t optimal, but it was preferred, because she wanted to spend her last night in this apartment with her siblings.

When she awoke, Aras was already playing with his toys on the floor. Ji-eun was still knocked out against her side, and Nara gave her a big squeeze and a kiss in her hair before she climbed out of the too-small bed, her body aching, but her heart less so. 

Today was the day.

Today, she became free. 

Today, she didn’t look back.

Today, she lived like they did in the movies.

---

It had taken her hours. 

The minutes zipping by her, ticking down, dwindling the amount of time she had to make her move.

But she just couldn’t do it. 

After she’d dropped the kids off at their bus stop, and continued her routine with them as normal, with only a very sternly, teary spoken, “You know I love you guys, right? I love you so much,” to offer any clue into what was happening, Nara had gathered up that bookbag she’d packed away. In its reservoir was an assortment of random necessities: five pairs of clothes, socks, underwear, a few packets of ramen noodles, her dad’s pocket knife, Noona’s cauliflower pickles, a pink, strapped journal, a photo of her baby siblings, a Greyhound bus ticket, and exactly one hundred and twenty-three dollars and seventy-five cents. 

She was ready. 

But only physically.

The entire morning was spent sobbing. 

She cried so hard she threw up. Then she cried some more, thinking about what abandoning her siblings would set in motion. She wasn’t stupid, much to the contrast of what Ha-neul insisted. She knew what happened next here. When she was gone, he would need a new target, and it would be Ji-eun. And Ji-eun… She wasn’t strong like Nara had grown to be. She couldn’t just put up her walls and grit her teeth through it. When daddy was mad, it broke her heart, every time, every day. It broke her heart only if she saw it. So Nara made sure she didn’t see it, at least as much as she could. But after today… she wouldn’t only just be witnessing his anger, Ji-eun would be on the other end of it, unprotected. 

Nara sat on the couch, her palms gripping her thighs and sighed out her tears in heavy gasps. She knew what had to be done. She couldn’t live like this anymore.

But what about Aras? What about that sweet, happy, baby boy?

What would happen to his happiness?

She sobbed, trembling, her gasps hitching, her face snotty and red and damp.

She didn’t have much time anymore. Ha-neul would be back for lunch, and he would see that she was still here, and he would beat her for skipping school. So, she couldn’t win, you see. She knew that. She knew that.

By the time she had finally found her bravery, it was half past noon. Ha-neul would be home by one. She had to leave now. It was now, or never. Because if he caught her… if he had even so much as an inkling of what she planned to do… she’d never get the opportunity again. 

So it had to be now.

The girl squared her shoulders.

She sniffed all the chagrin back in. 

She slipped on her converse.

And she set off on foot. Towards her freedom. Towards her new life. 

Walking nowhere, walking fast.

The farther she got, the easier it was to breathe, and the more motivated and determined she felt. As she walked, she daydreamed of all the things she would do. Like meeting new people, partying on the beach, maybe she would even get a boyfriend like all the other girls had.  A prince charming, just like in the movies. He would love her and he would save her and they would have babies and a family and, one day, she would find her siblings again, and adopt them so they never had to be near Ha-neul ever again.

She imagined living in her own apartment and having an office job and getting a degree. 

Everything finally possible. 

Everything finally here.

---

She’d gone north by foot and bus, and then west by stolen bike. 

By the time she wound up in a McDonald’s off of route 400, she was exhausted, having barely managed any sleep over the past few days, since she hadn’t accounted for how bumpy the bus ride would be, and that she couldn’t sleep on her belly. Now, as she sat in a booth near the restrooms of the fast food restaurant, the sound of its overdue orders beeping behind the front counter kept her awake. 

She was feeling sniffly, just like she used to when she was a kid. Eyes gritty. Head pounding. 

Her cheek fell into her palm, propped up by the elbow on the empty table. 

In her hand, she was texting Jaime. Again.

> where are you?? I’m here… pls answer soon?

She’d just tried to voice call her again. No answer.

Some horrible feeling in the pit of her belly told her that she’d been fucked here.

That Jaime wasn’t coming. And that she’d been left to rot with the wolves. 

She rubbed her hand over her tired face, and then leaned back in the booth, casting an absentminded look out the window. A rumbling truck. A band of children climbing out of a sedan with their mother and father quickly in tow. A black van. A group of teenagers on skateboards. 

Nara sighed. One of the employees was meandering towards her in slow figure-eights, swiping dirt around with a dirty mop and dirty mop water. The girl frowned, and checked her phone again.

Nothing. 

Her jaw tightened. 

She tried to call Jaime again. 

It failed immediately. 

What the fuck?

> hey?

She tried to press send. 

> Your message could not be delivered. This is usually because you don't share a server with the recipient or the recipient is only accepting direct messages from friends.

No.

What the fuck. 

Her jaw dropped.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck?

“Oh, my god,” she whispered, the shock quite literally dropping her jaw. Palms drew over her now flushing features, as her heart pounded with anxiety, and her mind struggled to comprehend what just happened.

Jaime. Jaime her best online friend for over two years now, Jaime who she had told everything to, Jaime who had been her rock—invited her out here, waited until she was already waiting for her, and then just ghosted?

No. No… this… this had to be some sort of mistake. 

She scratched in through her hair, her features etching into concern as she skipped through Jaime’s profile, trying to see if maybe they had somehow been kicked from the same server, and had never actually friended one another. 

But it was impossible to tell.

She quickly pressed the friend request button. 

A minute later, it disappeared from her Pending. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she whispered, her voice now trembling, caught in an edge of realization and despair. 

It all suddenly hit her. It all suddenly crashed down. The fear was tense in her belly, and she drew her hands back over her face only to cover the torrential downpour from witnesses as best as she could. Her bookbag hung slack around her elbow, laid across the booth’s seat. Before her was that opened jar of Noona’s pickles, half-eaten, a plastic fork stabbed within its basin. 

Breaths drew into her lungs in harsh gasps as they were quickly devolving into hyperventilation between her cries. A full breakdown. Off the side of route 400.

Suddenly, a voice was cutting through it all. A man’s voice. ”Whoaaa… Are you okay?” Nara quickly mopped the tears from her face with her hands, embarrassed, as her witness slid in the seat opposite of her. A pair of icy blue eyes. Dirty blonde hair. A set of shiny, pearly white teeth. A voice—gentle, kind. “Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing crying in a fuckin’ McDonalds?” he joked. She didn’t smile. She could hardly breathe.

He had a coffee in his hands. Beside his wrist sat a brown paper bag with a signature yellow M on it, rolled down from the top. The smell of fries and burgers lifted through its pores.

“Oh, come on. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad?”

Nara scoffed, incredulous, unsmiling, as another tear darted down. She shook her head, her lips still parted and jaw still slack, just so utterly, completely shocked. 

When the man realized she was seriously surprised, a look of concern pulled into his features. He leaned forward on his elbows. Convincing. “W-What is it? Me and my friends, right here… we got a van? Could take you to the hospital if you want? Got plenty of room.”

Nara shook her head again, not out of rejection, but out of pure, unbridled bafflement. “I-I…” she gasped, blinking fast and hard. 

“Hey, hey… It’s alright. Why don’t you… uh… Why don’t you let us drop you off somewhere? We’re headed to San Fran, personally. I don’t know if you wanna—tag along?”

The ice blue of his eyes fell into her’s, melted into it, offered a life raft. Her lower lip trembled as she stammered, trembling as her lithe shoulders lifted in a pitiful shrug. “I-I don’t–”

“We’ll take you to the hospital. You wanna go to the hospital?” His voice was more forceful now. Nara responded immediately to it, like a trained dog. She shut up. She nodded. 

“Alright, then. Let’s go!” he grinned, sliding out of the booth. His tone so drastically different from just a moment ago. She followed suit, numb, unsure of what just happened, and whether she was making a terrible decision or not. “I’m Hunter, by the way,” he continued, jovial, sipping at his coffee. She held her bag in front of her belly as they left through the front doors, curling around it for protection, her posture tight. In her chest, her heart was beating a mile a minute.

She must have looked utterly terrified, because as they neared that black van she’d noticed earlier, a woman with equally blonde hair and blue eyes pushed off from her lean against its frame, and gave Nara a look of awe. “Oh my god, are you okay?! You look like you saw a ghost!” she exclaimed. Her voice, buttery and feminine, felt significantly more soothing than Hunter’s. Something about Hunter, and his magazine-worthy features made her feel uneasy. She stood several feet away from them. Hunter seemed… impatient. 

“Oh, oh my goodness,” the woman sighed, canting her head a bit. “You poor thing. Did something happen?” In her hand was a cellphone. In its notification line, unseen to Nara, was a little purple icon. 

“I… I don’t know,” Nara huffed, eyebrows lifted, still in shock. 

The woman smiled softly at her. Sweet. Almost… too sweet. 

“Well, listen… A McDonald’s is no place to cry your heart out, baby,” she passed a knowing look Nara’s way that the girl couldn’t quite dissect. To her lips, the woman brought the unlit end of a joint and took a long draw. Smoke billowed from her thin, pink lips. “You know, I once lost my shit inside a Love’s. So…” she shrugged, sighing, and making light of it all.

Nara fidgeted. “Um… I… I think I’m actually just gonna… call my dad,” she whispered, feeling small, feeling defeated. Was this how it ended? All of that freedom? All of that movie theater life? She’d barely made it into the next state. Pitiful. Useless.

Her eyes glossed as fresh tears began to well up. 

“Awww… Honey. Well, where is your dad? Maybe we can take you to him?” she offered. Her voice was so motherly it took Nara by surprise. “If there’s one thing that I know about dads, it’s that they are p-i-s-s-e-d when you ask them for anything.” The woman chuckled. The driver’s side door slammed behind her, a flash of blonde hair disappearing behind its hold. 

“Yeah,” Nara huffed, sniffling, wiping at her tears. She was starting to calm down a bit. Able to think more. Her eyebrows pulled in towards one another. “I… um… I don’t think he’ll be happy.” That was underselling it by a vast margin. He would be angry enough to beat the shit out of her. That she was sure of.

Her feet shuffled beneath her. Her throat swallowed at her own saliva. 

“Well, shit. Do you have to call him? We could just drop you off?” Another long drag of a joint. Another cloud of smoke, blown Nara’s way. “I bet you’re a really  good conversationalist. You just… have that look.”

The compliment, unexpected but… nice, washed away some of her worry.  Some of her unease. Elnara swallowed again, contemplating. If she went home, she would have hell to pay. Was it even an option anymore? And what would she do if she didn’t have the guts to go in? Wander the streets, homeless, until she did?

Fuck. Why did Jaime have to fuck everything up?

Nara shook her head, sighing, her eyes falling closed momentarily as she tried to cope with this change of events. “No… He’s all the way back in Arizona. It’s too far,” she explained, pursing her lips dejectedly as her eyes found Poppy’s, which returned a very sympathetic, nurturing countenance. 

“Well, hey—that’s okay! You can still ride with us! You like California? We’re going to San Franciscoooo!” she chimed, shaking her shoulders in playful excitement. It made Nara crack a smile. “Ope! There it is!” she exclaimed, pointing at Nara with her joint. 

This time, Nara’s lips curled up, displaying her teeth, sheepishly pushing into the apples of her cheeks. She sniffled again, huffing out some light laughter. 

“Wow, you have… such a pretty smile.”

Nara’s lips pursed together, trying to hide the way her smile wanted to widen. Instead, she responded with an innocent quip in return. A signing of her soul to eternal damnation. She just didn’t know it yet. 

“You do, too,” she sighed, her gaze growing brightened as it lingered upon the woman. “Um, I’m Nara, by the way…”

“Poppy!” a hand laden with an overgrown but pretty manicure reached out towards her. Nara took it in a gentle shake. “So what’d’you say? San Fran or nahhhh?”

Nara giggled, huffing, hugging her backpack closer. “San Fran,” she breathed, still timid, but racing with newfound excitement. She’d never been to California before. Maybe this whole thing with Jaime actually worked out for the better. Maybe… Maybe her true freedom was waiting for her in the Golden State. Maybe she was destined to become a valley girl. Living near the beach, getting tan under the Californian sun… making new friends. Poppy and Hunter. New friends.

Stupid. Foolish. Naïve.

“Okay! Let’s goooo!” Poppy exclaimed before taking Nara’s hand and tugging her around to the van’s side, where the door rolled open heavily. Behind it, it revealed two things: a third person. A tapestry. 

“Hey, what’s up? I’m Tyler,” the man greeted, valley-stricken accent, shaggy brown hair. His visage was pinned up against the backdrop of a million, neon green, wide open eyes. 

From the back of the truck, the scent of marijuana flooded forth. 

“Hey, come sit up front, Nora!” Hunter called from the front seat. Nara glanced over, as Poppy climbed in the back, and sunk into a lounge against the cushions lain over every square inch. 

Nara huffed, smiling politely as she peeled open the passenger side door. “Okay!” she answered. Innocent. Naive. She slipped into the front seat and set her bag down between her feet. “It’s, um… Nara, actually,” she tried, softly. 

Hunter acted like he didn’t hear her.

“This is gonna be an awesome trip, Nora, just you wait,” he promised, his adam’s apple bobbing with a chuckle as he reversed the truck. Something about his laughter was… satisfied. Nara couldn’t quite put her finger on it. 

It was only ten minutes.

Ten minutes down route 400. 

Nirvana was on the radio. Heart-shaped box. 

Cold air was blasting from the vents onto her face, her exposed neckline, her arms, her legs. It picked up her hair around her shoulders. It dried the sheen of sweat upon her brow. 

Ten minutes of freedom.

She was staring out the window, watching the umber landscape smear past them when there was pressure against her skin. Her goosebump skin. Her smooth, blemish free skin.

Oh.

A large hand. Veiny. All knuckles and grip strength, wrapped firmly around the doughy flesh of her slender thigh. 

She stared down at it with wide eyes. Her breath stopped. Her lips parted in shock. Her posture froze. Nothing, nothing went through her head. 

Everything surged through her body.

She felt the heat drain from her sides, from her legs, from up past her shoulders in her back. Plummeting into ice. At her core, her torso trembled with adrenaline. Her pupils dilated against their chocolate brown reservoirs. In her chest, her heart palpitated.

A face with sharp angles. A sinister, content smile. A nodding chin in tune with a beat. 

She stared, picking her eyes up, only to stare forward, in the same shock. 

“Um—Poppy?” she called, her voice trembling, high, scared, violated.

“Yahhh?” the blonde came meandering up through the partition, sucking on an oversized lollipop. “What’s up, pretty baby?”

Hunter’s grip left warmth imprinted in her skin. 

Now it was back on the steering wheel. He was still nodding to that song. Nara’s heart was pounding a mile a minute.

Dizzy. Dizzy, she panted out, barely a whisper: “Nothing.”

“Okeyy dokeyyyy.” Sing song voice. Billowing smoke.

Her soul, handed to the Devil. The Devil—clutching her thigh. Again.

[cupcakewebkinz]

Scar.

✭ Modern Vee accidentally finds out about her toon varient's scar on her leg, how well will this go? ✭

* Modern au by @soupiestzilla / @soupiestfics ٭ Caretaker Shanon au by me ٭ tw - slight description of a scar, no blood/gore however *

♡ Usually I'd tag Zilla here, but she's credited above - so a fun fact instead! Twisted Toodles caused the scar on Toon Vee's leg, which is why it's so low on her leg. The Rabies Kid trauma lives on from my first run as Vee... Which I died to Toodles during a blackout on ♡

────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────

Today was anything but normal.

Today, Modern Vee was trying to teach Toon Vee how to genuinely cook, with the two's Shellys there for supervision. The four were in the kitchen together, the two Shellys sitting near their Vees, though they both were focused on the toon varient. She kept acting antsy, but only with one leg, she'd shift her weight off of it and shake it a little quite often, as if it was on fire and she didn't know what to do. She didn't seem to realize it either, as she had her full attention on her other version as she talked about how much edible glitter was okay to safely eat. Obviously this wouldn't be listened to, their pancakes will be bright rainbow with WAY too much glitter, but it was worth trying anyways. Though once the modern Vee caught on, she paused, taking a look at the other's leg with a concerned hum. Then she spotted it- the half circle shaped scar going across her leg, not far below the knee. Toon Vee kept touching it, acting like it was a brand new wound, despite it being obviously pretty old and as healed as it could be. It definitely was a bite of some kind, and a deep, painful one at that.

"Hey, you okay kid?" The modern robot casually asked, trying not to draw too much attention to the problem, however the toon seemed immediately defeated by the question, grabbing the hem of her shorts and pulling them down, desperately attempting to hide the problem- to avoid it, not think about it. Toon Shelly gently stopped her before she did anything stupid, now holding that hand instead to comfort her.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it." The toon replied after a long, quiet minute of silence. The two Moderns looked at each other... This wasn't the rambunctious, feral, glitter high Vee they knew. This was something dark... Something they probably shouldn't be touching, but they soon were anyways as the Modern Vee put her hand on the Toon's shoulder, forcing her to sit down on the chair she was previously standing on.

"What's wrong?" The modern robot asked, her voice oddly gentle, sweet. It was like a big sibling talking to their younger one, and the Toon melted, taking a shaky breath before she just shook her head as tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

"My leg... It hurts so bad..." The toon confessed, a sniff following. A sob threatened to come out, but she swallowed it back. The modern Vee just knealt down a little so she was more at her level, less intimidating, more protective. Toon Shelly took a quick picture on her phone, knowing that this kind of moment meant the world to her favorite toon, especially since the one in front of her- concerned about her- tending to her- was her idol. The one who brought back the life in her, now was tending to her like family. It was special.

"Look, I know we fight- a lot- and I know I'm not the best toon for this, but if you need to cry- just cry. Nobody's going to be upset, we can glitterbomb the pancakes when you feel okay again." The other Vee softly reassured, getting a nod from the vulnerable little toon, who soon curled up in her chair and leaned into the other Vee, eyes closed as tears started to fall. Toon Shelly snapped another pic, the Modern one stuck in awe at how gentle and caring her usually chaotic lover was being. The two Vees didn't care, they couldn't care about that right now, they just focused on the poor toon suffering from phantom pain right now.

Hours later, when the pain spike had passed, the glittery pancakes from hell made, the group all sat around the living room in various spots, various poses. The modern Vee sitting as dramatic as ever, her sparkly outfit blinding Shanon so much she had to wear sunglasses inside as she just HAD to sit in the sunshine. The toon loafed beside her, injured leg off to the side, face relaxed as she enjoyed the sun with her. The two Shellys had plenty of pictures of the two FINALLY getting along throughout the day, though a question still lingered.

"Hey bud, what happened to your leg anyways?" Modern Shelly eventually asked, making the toon sit up with a tired little smile on her face.

"A rabid child bit it." Was her simple answer, as if that made any sense. It did not, so the mystery remained. At least, to their visitors, anyways.

[daxisyzz]

⁺‧˚ ⋆ 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥 | 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋆ ˚‧⁺

𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 8: 𝑨 𝑺𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝑪𝑬𝑶? 𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆.

Pairings: ceo!boss!bucky barnes × fem!reader

Contents: fake dating, chaotic relationship dynamic, workplace romance, contract relationship, yearning??, coffee obsessed reader (I'm sorry for that one), it's getting real, Steve and Nat have smth.

Other characters: bestfriend!Natasha Romanoff, Coworker!Steve Rogers

Summary: You try to keep your distance—he keeps showing up anyway. Soup when you're sick, coffee just how you like it, sticky notes that say things he’ll never say out loud. Then one night, he doesn’t hide behind the contract. “It's not hard. It’s the easiest damn thing I’ve ever felt.” he says, soft like it’s the simplest truth in the world. (You were never going to stand a chance, were you?)

Word count: 2.4k+

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Inspired by the kdrama "Business Proposal"

Previously on Business Proposal...

By the time you board the flight back home, exhaustion has settled into your bones. You lean your head against the window, eyes closed as the engines roar to life.

Bucky says nothing, but when you peek through half-lidded eyes, you find him watching you.

You don't speak.

You just let the silence fill the space between you.

By the time the plane touches down, you’ve both tucked the moment away—filed it under the category of things that almost happened.

And maybe that’s where it’s safest to leave it. For now.

_____________________●

You were ignoring him.

Not entirely—just enough to rebuild the walls that had been steadily crumbling since Paris. After the Eiffel Tower. After that almost-kiss that felt anything but fake. That moment when his breath had hitched and your eyes had locked, the entire illusion wobbling on the edge of something dangerous.

You didn’t let it fall. Not yet. But you did what you were best at—strategic withdrawal.

You still showed up to meetings, still demolished the quarterly reports with your usual dry wit, still pulled the kind of power moves in the boardroom that left executives scrambling to keep up. But there was distance now. Measured. Clinical. Gone were the casual touches and knowing glances. No more lingering beside him when he laughed. No more banter that bordered on flirtation. You’d retreated.

And he noticed. Bucky felt it like a phantom limb.

He started waiting outside work. Not once or twice. Every single night. Like clockwork. Leaning against his absurdly expensive car, sunglasses on despite the setting sun, holding two coffees. Yours always perfectly made—a teaspoon of sugar, extra foam, that stupid cinnamon sprinkle you’d mentioned once.You ignored him the first time, walking away hurriedly. Then the second. The third, you almost stopped—but your mind pushed you on. It was the fourth time that broke you.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed, a frown stitched tight across your face.

“Do what?” he asked innocently, like he wasn’t melting every boundary you’d drawn.

“This. Wait outside. Bring coffee. Offer to drop me home. Act like we we're—”

“Friends?” he offered, his voice soft, and it unraveled something inside you.

You hesitate. You wanted to say no. To remind him—he was your boss. He was paying you to play pretend. There was a contract. A very binding, very serious contract. But instead, you looked at him, at the faint shadows under his eyes, the nervous twitch in his fingers. You sighed, moved forward, took the coffee, avoided the brush of his fingers, and silently got in the car. The coffee was too hot. It scalded your tongue. But you didn’t complain.

Then you caught a cold.

Nothing serious. Nothing you couldn’t usually push through. But this time it lingered—enough to knock you out for two days straight, the world reduced to a blur of tissues and half-drunk mugs.

On the third morning, you shuffled to the door in mismatched socks and an oversized hoodie that swallowed half your body. You weren’t expecting anyone. You certainly weren’t expecting him.

But there he was—James Buchanan Barnes. Standing in your doorway like he’d done it a hundred times before, holding a paper bag of groceries in one hand and cold medicine in the other. His hair was tousled from the wind, his tie slightly loosened as if he’d rushed out of the office.

You blinked, throat too raw for anything but a rasp. “You’re not supposed to show up uninvited.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m the CEO,” he replied, as if that explained everything. “It's my moral duty to check on my employee’s wellbeing.”

You stared at him.

“Also,” he added, holding up the bag, “you didn’t answer a single text. I had to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“I was sleeping,” you muttered, though your voice barely qualified as sound.

He stepped forward like he already knew you’d let him in. You didn’t stop him. You should’ve. You could’ve. But you didn’t.

“I brought soup,” he said casually, slipping past you. “It’s still hot.”

You hesitated in the doorway. You should’ve slammed it behind him. Or demanded he leave. Or reminded him what the contract said—about boundaries, roles, rules.

Instead, you closed the door softly and turned.

He was already in your kitchen, peering into cabinets like he owned the place. Like he’d done it before. Like he belonged.

You watched as he opened drawers until he found a bowl. Poured the soup carefully. Moved with ease, confidence—like it wasn’t the first time he’d taken care of someone. Like he wanted to.

Like he wanted to take care of you.

Your chest tightened with something dangerously close to hope.

You flopped onto the couch, the crumpled blanket still tangled where you’d left it. You pulled it tighter around your legs and tried to act unaffected.

“This definitely isn’t in the contract,” you mumbled.

He walked over with the bowl in one hand, a spoon already resting inside. He knelt—not sat, knelt—in front of the couch and handed it to you.

“Sure it is,” he said smoothly.

You looked down at him, raising an eyebrow. “Show me where.”

He didn’t blink. “Page seven. Subsection three. ‘CEO reserves the right to deliver homemade chicken soup in case of employee’s minor illness.’”

Despite yourself, you huffed a laugh. It scratched your throat but felt good. “Liar.”

“Then consider me guilty.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t leave. Just sat there, eyes fixed on you like he was memorizing everything—the way your nose was red, how your hair was a mess, how your voice was rough around the edges.

He should’ve looked away.

He didn’t.

You shifted under the blanket, suddenly too warm. “I'm fine, you know. It's just a cold.”

“I know,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

And the way he said it—quiet, steady, unflinching—made your heart stutter.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You didn’t know what to say or how to pin down what had built inside your chest.

He leaned back, sitting on the floor now, his shoulder brushing against the couch. “Was that your first time calling in sick?”

You nodded.

“I figured. You didn’t strike me as someone who slowed down easily.”

You sniffed, eyes darting to the bowl in your hands. “What gave it away? The crumpled tissues or the hoodie?”

He grinned. “The socks, actually. Very professional.”

You glanced down—one sock had tiny stars on it, the other was bright yellow. You rolled your eyes. “I was too tired to care.”

“I like it,” he says, and it sounded a little too soft. “It's real.”

You went still.

Because he didn’t mean the socks. He didn’t even mean the cold. He meant you.

Here. Unfiltered. Vulnerable.

And for a moment, you forgot to be afraid of what that meant.

He stood slowly, his knees cracking slightly, and brushed imaginary dust from his pants. “I’ll put the rest of the groceries away.”

You nodded, the soup forgotten in your lap.

And as he moved around your kitchen like he belonged, you realized: it didn’t feel wrong.

It felt like the most dangerous kind of right.

And that… that terrified you more than anything else.

Then Natasha arrived. Not subtly either. She started popping into your office with designer sunglasses perched on her head and enough iced coffee to drown a horse.

“Brought you caffeine and an escape plan,” she announced, her voice warm but casual, almost like she was hiding something.

“From?”

“Your boyfriend.”

You started noticing it more: the way she lingered, the way she always found a reason to stick around. You asked once, and she just waved it off with, “What? Can’t I miss my best girl?”

You weren’t buying it.

It wasn’t until her third visit in a week that you caught her texting under the desk, lips twitching, ears pink.

“Okay,” you narrowed your eyes. “Who is he?”

She froze. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You’ve been moonlighting in my office like it's a second apartment. Spill.”

She exhaled dramatically. “Fine. But if you tell anyone, I’ll steal all your vinyl records.”

You wait.

“Steve,” she mumbled.

You blink. “Steve, as in Rogers? Bucky’s Steve?”

“Well, I like to think of him as mine now.”

You gasped. “How long?”

“A month. We’ve been careful.”

You choked. “Steve Rogers?”

Natasha sipped her coffee with infuriating calm. “Is that so hard to believe?”

You stared. “Kind of, yeah.”

She grinned. “Well, you should try it sometime—letting someone in.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You really thought no one notices the way he looks at you like you hung the moon?”

You glared. She smirked, and that was when you realized—she knew. Not just suspected. Knew. And your stomach twisted in ways you didn’t want to understand.

Meanwhile, Bucky was falling apart.

He sat in his office long after everyone went home, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, eyes vacant. The city outside was quiet, its usual hum distant through the windows. A single lamp cast soft, golden light across the room, making shadows seem deeper, heavier.

Steve found him like that—collapsed in a chair, as if all the tension had leaked out of him and left him hollow.

“She’s pulling away,” Bucky muttered without looking up. His voice was rough, low. “I don’t know what to do.”

Steve leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You scared her.”

Bucky dragged a hand over his face. “How? I didn’t mean to.”

“By being real,” Steve said gently.

Bucky laughed—a humorless, broken sound. “It wasn’t supposed to be real.”

“But it is.”

That truth sat between them like a live wire. Bucky didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Steve crossed the room and sat across from him. “You’ve always been good at pretending, Buck. Surviving. Hiding. But you were never good at pretending not to feel.”

“I was trying to protect her,” Bucky said quietly. “Keep it simple. Clean. Fake.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Since when has anything about love been clean or simple?”

Bucky swallowed hard, throat tight. “Its messy. Complicated. She deserves something easy.”

“She deserves you being honest.”

Bucky’s hands balled into fists. “I don’t know how to do this, Steve. I’ve never felt something like this—not this deep, not this fast. I don’t know how to hold it without breaking it.”

Steve’s expression softened. “Then don’t try to hold it. Just show up. Be there. Let her know it's okay to feel what she’s feeling.”

“She already backed away,” Bucky said. “Like I pushed too hard.”

“Or maybe,” Steve countered, “you finally touched something she was afraid to feel.”

Bucky’s gaze lifted, just barely. Rawness glinted in his eyes. “I don’t want to lose her.”

“Then don’t,” Steve said simply. “Fight for her. But don’t push her. She’s been through stuff too. Let her come to you when she’s ready. Just… don’t disappear.”

Silence stretched. Bucky looked down at his hands. “I'm in love with her.”

“I know.”

“She's not ready.”

“But she wants you,” Steve said. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“And what if I ruined everything?”

Steve smiled, small and sure. “Then at least it would be real.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. But something had shifted in him. A quiet resolve settled in his chest.

Your days became a chessboard. You pushed, he pulled. You retreated, he advanced.

Sticky notes appeared on your screen—little jokes, doodles, quotes you’d mentioned once. Your favorite granola bars showed up in the break-room fridge, initials scrawled in Sharpie. He attended every meeting now, even the tedious ones he’d used to skip.

“I thought you hated logistics,” you muttered.

“I used to. But I like them now,” he said, instead of blurting out that he liked anything with you in it.

He kept doing it, and it frustrated you. You wanted to scream. Or kiss him. Maybe both.

Through it all, you kept repeating the same damn mantra: It is not real. He is your boss. This is just an act.

But one night, as you were packing up, you found him waiting again.

“You waiting for someone?” you teased, voice almost trembling as you leaned against the doorframe.

He looked up, that glint in his eyes hitting you like a freight train. “Yeah. Always.”

You froze. Your breath caught in your throat, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. His gaze dropped for a moment, as if collecting himself before he stepped toward you—slow and steady, like he was testing the air between you.

“Stop,” you whispered, heart hammering. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” he asked, voice impossibly soft, laced with something dangerous.

“Make this harder than it already is,” you breathed, trying to push him away with words that wouldn’t stick.

He stepped closer. “Then let it be easy.”

You shook your head, the weight of your own words pressing down. “There’s a contract. An image to protect. A thousand reasons this can’t work.”

“Then tell me what’s really stopping you.”

You opened your mouth, then hesitated. Swallowed hard. “I just… I don’t think I’m what you want.”

His expression softened, voice quieter now. “That’s the only thing you’ve ever been wrong about.”

His hands stayed at his sides, fingers twitching like he was on the edge of something. “I meant what I said,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I think about you all the time. I can’t stop. And I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your heart shuddered. “Don’t make this hard,” you pleaded, desperate.

His voice dropped, the words like a confession. “It's not hard. It’s the easiest damn thing I’ve ever felt.”

And then, everything fell away. The distance. The contract. The game you’d been playing. It all faded as you stood there, staring at each other, the silence echoing louder than anything either of you could say. Your breath caught, his gaze locked with yours, and for the first time, you realized:

This had never been fake. Not for either of you.

And maybe it never had to be.

Taglist: @calwitch, @scott-loki-barnes, @baw1066, @awesompawsum, @bucky-baby-barnes, @marianastudiesart, @pattiemac1, @maryevm, @borkybawnes, @mcira, @otterlycanadian, @mrsnikstan, @sebastians-love, @homiesexual-or-homosexual, @winchestert101, @julesandgems, @purplefluffycows, @brckenmemories, @avengersfan25, @samfunko, @mackevanstanfan80, @forthelovelyheart, @quinquinquincy

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 18)

au masterlist

notes: this is short but i needed it out and i’ve been much too busy to write lately and i’m running on very little sleep and can barely keep my eyes open

y/ndevils00

liked by jackhughes, ehaula, and 428,715 others

y/ndevils00 we’re not back

we are SO not back.

but you know who IS back?! MY SEXY ASS, 22 POINT HAVING, COMEBACK GOAL SCORING, SNACK STEALING BOYFRIEND!!

despite the unfortunate 5-3 loss against the dish rags, we did get a few good goals tonight, starting with one from everyone’s favorite previously injured man, JACK ROWDEN HUGHES!!!

babygirl also assisted on Uncle Haula-hoop’s goal (the third and final Devils goal)! and in between those goals, Pally pocket got a goal!!

however, towards the end of first, we were down by one, and despite my strongly worded advisory, coach bark pulled my main man Vitek and let the rags score an empty netter….

anyways! bestie number 1 was wrongfully accused and jailed in the second— his crime? his flow was too nice. not very jail worthy, but the bald bitch from the other team had it out for him.

goodnight and please enjoy the last couple photos i took of my sassy boy toy during his post-game interview where he couldn’t keep his eyes off me— can’t say i blame him 🤭

tagged jackhughes, pally_18, ehaula, and dawson1417

Load more comments

user93 the red m&m in the 3rd pic is sending me 😭

y/ndevils00 give him some respect! he assisted on that goal!

jackhughes i didn’t realize you were saving the cheez-its!

y/ndevils00 they were my work snack! i need food in order to keep my energy to run around the arena!

jackhughes i give you $30 before every game for you to buy snacks??

y/ndevils00 i prefer to use that money for drinky drinks

lhughes_06 that explains so much

dawson1417 he can’t have my hair!

y/ndevils00 baldy should’ve thought about his flow before he shaved his head! i’ll protect your hair!

john.marino97 and how will you do that?

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 the same way i get rid of all the men in my dm’s— beat ‘em off with a stick!

jackhughes MEN IN YOUR DM’S????

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes oh don’t act so surprised! i’m a catch and everyone knows it!

trevorzegras @/jackhughes damn dude, better get a move on with ‘plan alpha-alpha’ before someone snatches up your girl

user66 i love the jack-centric posts! y/n feeds us 🙏

ehaula did you know there’s other players on the team besides your boyfriend?

y/ndevils00 did you know i don’t care about anyone else?

ehaula trust me, i can tell

y/ndevils00 then why are you asking stupid questions you already know the answer to?

ehaula i’m disowning you

y/ndevils00 you can’t do that!

ehaula pretty sure i can!

y/ndevils00 nuh-uh! tell him @/kristen.haula

kristen.haula you can’t disown our niece, Erik!

y/ndevils00 TOLD YOU! NA-NA-NA BOO BOO!

ehaula i can’t believe you’ve wormed your way into my family and won’t leave

dawson1417 yeah, that’s what happens

john.marino97 my mom calls her the daughter she never had

john.marino97 excuse me, where am i?!

y/ndevils00 idk, your couch?

john.marino97 IN THE POST! where am i IN THE POST!

y/ndevils00 oh, you got no points. do better and maybe you’ll be featured

john.marino97 i tried!

y/ndevils00 so try harder?? idk what to tell you

john.marino97 why am i friends with you

y/ndevils00 because i’m hot and funny and smart?

john.marino97 no, that’s not it

user20 poor dawson in the box 😭

_quinnhughes i’ve missed your chaotic energy! can’t wait to see you soon, Dove!!

y/ndevils00 aww! so excited to see you soon huggy! 🥹🤍

jackhughes not once have you said you can’t wait to see me?

lhughes_06 you’ll see your brothers too??

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes @/lhughes_06 okay?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes @/lhughes_06 i’m lost on what that has to do with me?

lhughes_06 NOTHING! it has NOTHING to do with you!

y/ndevils00 @/lhughes_06 yeah, so it’s irrelevant

nicohischier i hate not playing, but i won’t lie, i love not being on these posts

y/ndevils00 it’s only a matter of time, captain slut!

[forestwitchontheroad]

Billford Analysis!

Chapter two: Bill Cipher and his failed plan of taking advantage of Ford's naivety or the path from pawn to something more.

chapter 1

this chapter will be the smallest since there is no direct data on what our triangle felt and thought during this period of time before his plan was revealed. the main source that I dare to refer to are Bill's quotes in Ford's Journals with his personal notes regarding meetings with Bill, which will have to be deciphered from a loving and sometimes too exalted haze to such a chaotic and cruel creature as Bill Cipher.

at first, Bill jokes a lot and is completely not serious about Ford, mixing his condescension with forced lies. maybe his obvious fatigue is reflected here after so many unsuccessful attempts to get humans to build a portal, maybe he initially realized how much Ford is a complex person with low self-esteem and loneliness, which is why he can not try to control his behavior at all.

however, the very first step of a change is that Ford is joking in response. unlike all the other humans Bill tried to deceive and who treated Cipher seriously and cautiously, Ford tries to copy the style of the demon's jokes, which obviously flatters him very much. I even think he was flattered by this little inconspicuous fact more than the blind adoration he had met before.

however, at this stage, Ford for Bill remains something on the level of a non-irritating pet, who is not stupid but naive in his attempts to please. the tattoo, which he asked Ford to fill, serves as an example that Bill sees Ford, first of all, as a thing that has become dear to him only due to its undeniable value in the construction of the portal.

but then, under the influence of the presence of the foolishly genius Ford, who had no distractions to slow down in his work on the portal, Bill begins to allow himself to behave more naturally in his manner - he does not restrain himself from doing terrible things, lifting Ford a gift in the form of an inscription of dead rats. he offered a drink, like to one of his interdimensional criminals-buddies, and, judging by Ford's crooked notes after that fateful night, Bill liked the night, too. at this point, the line between a funny toy and a friend begins to slowly but surely fade.

then, when Bill told about his destroyed dimension, he completely does not restrain himself in the whole dialog - he directly talks about the possibility of eating his twin brother, mentions the Time Baby, although then immediately changes the subject and then does the incredible - shows Ford, only a human he is using for his own gains, the last atoms of his home dimension, what he didn't do with any of his friends from the gang of intergalactic criminals.

one of the reasons why Bill did this, I think, was relaxation and sincerity. Bill is always relaxed and behaves as he wants. that's obvious. however, his gang perceives him above them - they know what kind of monster he can be and what he can do to them for the slightest mistake, which is why they can lie to him for their own good.

and Ford is sincere. he completely trusts Bill, and this trust is felt in the assertiveness in questions, in retaliatory jokes, in excitement and emotionality, which Bill had previously met in humans, mostly only in a negative way.

for a borderline immortal being, blind adoration, sincerity, and human trust as an equal create such a crazy cocktail that the demon of dreams can not refuse it.

and when all this strong whirlwind of emotions and devotion is directed not at Bill, but at Fiddleford, it annoys him if to use very soft words to describe it. insults towards Fiddleford slip through his speech without filters, and not only because Ford may slow down in building the portal, not at all, because Cipher is already confident in him.

Bill at this moment, and also in the case of the Axolotl, is very jealous. he is so jealous that he tells Ford not to trust anyone, naturally implying himself as an exception. the very possibility that Ford can spend his emotions and experiences on other people seems dangerous to Cipher in losing this bubble of security and honesty, where he can be himself and not see constant fear of others.

concluding this short chapter with spatial reasoning, it is difficult to say where Bill drew or whether he even unconsciously drew the line between a close friend and a living toy when he thought about Ford. however, at this point in time, it can be said for sure that Bill was not in love and did not have similar feelings for Ford at all. Bill appreciated their secluded bubble, where everything was fine. he appreciated communication and a perfect plan.

but this value consisted solely in the desire to possess and nothing more. however, this most zealous craving to own the illusion of stability became the basis for the emergence of a strange attachment in the future, or rather, its full realization.

[trappedinafantasy37]

@majorasnightmare Yippee! I love having perfect excuses to share some Daedra lore!

If anybody else would like to join in: @arach-tinilith (I know you did one for Naadja, but maybe Zafyna?) @alicelufenia, and @lutethebodies

How would you describe their personality?

Despite being rather high energy, Daedra can also be rather aloof. She is definitely the kind who would prefer to do nothing and she only gets up to do things because something compels her to do things. She also very much wants to be pampered and spoiled and treated like a princess, but she doesn't let just anyone spoil her. No, no, her lovers have to earn the right to spoil her and she does not make it easy.

Daedra is also very defiant and does not like being told what to do. If anybody tries to tell her what to do she will either do the exact opposite of what she is told, or do it with maliciousness so no one would ever want to ask her to do it again. If anyone ever tries to presume authority over her, she will test it over and over and over. The only person she has ever willingly and immediately allowed to command her was Minthara (but even then there are still some moments where Daedra challenges Minthara's authority). But, hehehe, sometimes Daedra likes being forced to submit...

What brings your character joy?

She does enjoy hunting and killing, and tannery helps keep her mind calm and relaxed. She does enjoy monster hunts as well and loves taking monster hunting quests when they become available. She likes exploding things and if there is a bomb in her immediate vicinity, she will try to blow it up (no, she does not take in any consideration that she might get blown up herself). Daedra also thrives in the most chaotic of situations, regardless of if she brought them upon herself. She also enjoys cuddling with people, both romantically and platonically. She adores touching and being touched as physical touch is her love language.

What does your character strongly dislike?

As kind of mentioned previously, she really does not like being told what to do. To go further into it, she does not like a lot of expectations being placed upon her, especially if it is one that she feels she cannot meet. She does not like being told who she is supposed to be and she wants to be her own person and not restrict herself to such expectations. If there is anybody who's opinion matters to her, she begins to fear disappointing them because she fears not being able to live up to their expectations, and so she would prefer none be placed upon her. Otherwise, she will fight against them.

Daedra also does not like being called or treated as if she is stupid. She is already very well aware of her intellectual disability and knows how it holds her back. She doesn't want to be talked down to as if she isn't already aware of it or treated like a child. She is still self sufficient, even if there are some things she needs additional help with. And, for the love of the gods, do not call her stupid. My little babygurl will burst out into a fountain of tears and breakdown and then runaway. And she is so good at hiding, you'd never be able to find her. Once she is out of your sight, good luck. She can turn invisible and if she doesn't want to be found, she won't. (Or she might kill you on the spot, depends on the tone of your voice and the context).

Is your OC scared of anything?

Daedra is scared of losing control of her urges and unintentionally harming the people that she loves. She is constantly plagued with images and nightmares of her companions and she hears voices telling her to violently harm them. She is terrified that she will accidentally hurt them, or that her impulses will get the best of her and she won't be able to stop if she were to ever give in.

What is their alignment?

I would say that, for the most part, Daedra is chaotic neutral. But, I don't like shoving characters into strict boxes. So, Daedra's alignment kinda swings in the bottom right corner from chaotic neutral - chaotic evil - neutral evil. And this all varies depending on the situation she finds herself in. The lobotomy also has a massive impact on her alignment as well as being relieved from the urge once Bhaal murks her.

Daedra doesn't like to follow the rules and is much more likely to break them when she finds them to be convenient. She isn't incapable of doing good things, but it isn't her first inclination and she has to have a very very very worthwhile reason to do good stuff and she doesn't do anything out of the goodness of her own heart. She is much more likely to default to the more evil options to solve her problems (murder, theft, bribery, extortion, intimidation, torture, etc). She is much more selfish than selfless, but will be selfless and sacrifice anything for her friends and lovers (even her own life if necessary).

[tumbleweed-writes]

Death and the Lady: Chapter Four

Previous chapter found HERE

This chapter is slightly nsfw. So, 18+ only.

-----

Chapter Four: An Arrangement

Deputy David Hale usually didn’t make Y/N Y/L/N feel any sense of anxiety. To be honest, most of the time she was around him she just felt a little annoyed.

Her past interactions with the Charming police were a mixed bag.

Back when she’d been going through her wild phase with SAMCRO her interactions with the local police usually ended with her in handcuffs. Now that she was back in town and operating as a local funeral director, her interactions with the police tended to involve making arrangements for police escorts for funeral processions.

To be honest her feelings towards Charming’s local P.D. were quite conflicted given her past indiscretions…and her current ones. 

She’d always found Deputy Hale to be arrogant and just a little too self righteous for comfort.

David Hale had been in the same grade as both her brother, Jax Teller and Opie Winston when she’d been growing up. All four guys had been five years older than her, so they’d not really interacted outside of the interactions all three men had shared with her older brother.

Of course, that had changed once she’d gotten older and her brother had his accident. After that her interactions with Hale weren’t pleasant and her interactions with Jax and Opie were chaotic. 

Before the accident, her elder brother had been childhood friends with Deputy Hale all the way up until middle school when it had become obvious that her brother was finding new friendships with Jax and Opie.

It had become clear that David disapproved of Daniel Y/L/N’s newfound friendships. 

Even as a teenager, Hale seemed to carry around the notion that he was superior to the kids of Charming’s white trash biker gang. 

Y/N had gotten a certain level of respect from Hale as had her brother as their father was a respected member of the community…well they’d gotten respect before they’d rebelled and proved they were comfortable interacting with the white trash biker gang. 

Hale himself came from one of the more affluent families in Charming. Generations of the Hales were politicians, lawyers, and doctors.

David Hale had seemed to believe that his family background meant that he was somehow far better than the new friends Daniel Y/L/N had acquired. 

In Y/N’s opinion the Hales were nothing special. Everyone was equal in death after all. She had very little tolerance for people who tried to pretend they were somehow more important than anyone else. She didn’t care for snobbish people especially when she knew they’d wind up on her embalming table right where the same people they’d looked down upon had laid as well.

From what she could remember David Hale had been the All-American boy. He was the kind of guy who knew he wanted to grow up and serve the community. He was a boy scout. He played baseball in the spring and summer and football in the fall for the local high school. He attended church on Sunday and volunteered at the nursing home as a teen. 

She guessed she shouldn’t be shocked that even as a man in his thirties David Hale was still just as pious as he’d always been. 

If this had been any other scenario she’d almost find it funny to find that Hale had maintained the same short hair cut he’d had since he was a teenager. She’d always thought it made him appear a little boring especially when they’d been teens. Wasn’t being a teen the time where you did stupid crap to your hair after all? 

Standing near the Deputy sheriff, a few other members of Charming PD’s finest, and a borrowed modest forensic unit from Lodi near an open grave made her feel less than amused at the moment though.

She’d felt sick to her stomach when she’d received the call early this morning that another grave in Charming’s cemetery had been robbed. This was the second one within such a short time period.

Both graves had previously been occupied by men she had buried and embalmed. She’d been asked to come out by the Deputy and at least give her insight on what had happened. 

She hoped and prayed that the look of astonishment on her face, as she arrived at the cemetery, read as someone who was simply horrified by the situation and not at all aware of exactly who was responsible for this.

She gazed down into the empty casket both astounded and relieved to see that the sacks of dry concrete she’d filled the casket with were long gone. 

It seemed that whoever had done this had been smart enough to make it appear as though she’d buried a body in the casket and not sacks of concrete.

She knew the concrete had been a risk, but it had been necessary for the funeral. A full casket weighed more than an empty one. She’d just been relieved that she was right that the man’s family had no desire to see what laid within the casket. 

The man’s funeral had actually been quite sparse. From her interactions with the family regarding funeral arrangements it had seemed that the man had not had many friends in life and wasn’t the kind of guy that warranted a room full of mourners. She hated to talk ill of the dead, but she’d gotten the impression he’d not been the nicest guy. 

She hated to admit it but the information had made her feel less guilty about the fact that she’d technically loaned the guy’s body to the local MC.

She knew of course that the thought was a weak attempt to mentally absolve herself from her guilt. 

She’d be lying if she tried to claim she hadn't had a few nightmares about what she’d done. Most of the dreams featured her walking through the cemetery at night following a Son who she was sure might be Filip from what she could see through the pitch black night, only to have hands shoot out from the ground below her dragging her down screaming before she could escape.

She’d woken up in cold sweats hyperventilating more times than she cared to admit over the past month. 

Y/N didn’t need to be Sigmund Freud or Carl Jung to figure out the symbolism behind such nightmares. Her brain was taunting her both about her guilt over her actions and her newfound involvement with a group of men she’d thought she’d moved on from. 

As she stood over the empty grave she was overcome with the notion that she knew just who was likely responsible for the scene in front of her. 

Jax and Chibs had apparently not been lying to her when they’d reassured her that the favor she’d done for the club would not lead back to her.

It was clear they had done this to make it appear as though any discovery of the missing bodies was a result of a simple grave robbery and she was the stunned funeral director who genuinely had no idea how such an awful thing could happen.

She took a deep breath feeling a little anxious as she’d watched the one lone forensic scientist who’d come out to investigate, swab the inside of the casket. She knew well enough that the body had resided in the casket at one point. 

The man’s father had wanted one view of him in the casket before he’d insisted that a closed casket funeral was exactly what the family wanted. 

Any DNA would lead back to the dead man. Bodies did at times leak despite the best efforts to embalm.

She knew if there were any traces of concrete that might have leaked out of those bags she could play it dumb and blame it on the casket manufacturer. 

She highly doubted she’d have to play stupid in some interrogation though.

She tried to keep her face neutral as Hale turned to face her he quick to speak. “What do you make of this?”

She kept her voice even hoping it didn’t betray her with any signs of deception as she spoke. “I have no idea. He was there the last time I saw him.”

“And when was that?” Hale replied, gazing at her clearly studying her in a way that made her feel as though she was under a microscope.

She sighed adjusting the light black wool coat she’d worn over her black dress today. Even if this was just to come out and stare at an open grave she knew she had to look like the town’s funeral director. “When I screwed the casket shut before the funeral service. The family made it clear they didn’t want to see him like that. His father asked that the casket be sealed shut in case someone tried to go against the family’s wishes.”

She wasn’t lying. That had been the order she’d been given from the deceased’s father. Although there hadn’t been many mourners it had been clear that those who did attend were part of a somewhat dysfunctional bunch who didn’t seem to get along.

Hale nodded his head placing his hands on his hips, the action making him look all too self-important in her opinion. “Did anyone else have access to the body other than you?”

She sighed nodding her head back at Skeeter who’d recently gotten back in town the night before and seemed clueless as to what he’d come home to. She’d almost felt bad for the guy when he’d found out he’d have to tag along for this little adventure. “Skeeter was out of town. He’s usually the one who helps me set up the final touches on things prior to funerals. Old Charlie helps out a little too, but he’s getting up there. He’s nearing seventy soon. I highly doubt he’s going to start robbing graves when he’s been around this long.”

She paused thinking of the old man who was her father’s longest associate. Charles Olsen or Old Charlie as he insisted on being called, had developed a limp from arthritis but that didn’t stop him from doing a few of the more labor intensive jobs around the funeral home. He’d been a practical partner to her father in the business at one point, but he insisted his days of embalming were behind him as his body was beginning to feel worn with age. He had a harder time being up on his feet for the amount of time it took to embalm.

Of course that didn’t stop him from wanting to help out in other ways. He’d always been fond of her and she guessed he felt he owed it to her late father to help out any way he could. He’d practically watched Y/N grow up. He'd always been there. He'd been loyal to her father and now he was loyal to her. 

She was always willing to treat him well in exchange for his loyalty. Lord knows with the financial struggles she’d had, Old Charlie and Skeeter both could have found better jobs by now with funeral homes that were doing much better.

Her way of appreciating the loyalty tended to be shared bits of casserole she’d made for dinner and the occasional bought lunch or dinner especially if they had to be out late for a body pick up. 

She spoke again, shrugging her shoulders hoping she sounded honest. “The only other people who had access to the decedent were the gravediggers hired by the city.”

Hale let out a huff seemingly disappointed that she didn’t provide him with any information that could break the case. He spoke up nodding at the empty casket. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

She sighed, being honest this time around. “A couple of times. It’s not a common occurrence. I saw it once or twice back in New York. Usually it’s old graves that are hit though…usually just edgy teens breaking into a crypt to steal a skull or something.”

She paused, shaking her head. “People are sick.”

“That they are. The deceased was found in Lodi, along with the other occupant of that first grave that was robbed…looks like someone used them to stage a crime scene. Doesn't seem odd to you that it took this long for someone to notice that this grave was disturbed. The cemetery groundskeeper spotted that first disturbed grave pretty quickly.” Hale remarked he once again seemingly studying her. 

She frowned, not liking that he was clearly watching her as though he was awaiting some kind of tell that she knew more than she did. She pushed back the thought telling herself that she was being paranoid.

“You don’t say? That’s something new. I can't say it seems odd, in my professional opinion. This is an older section of the cemetery, so less mourners. The deceased's family lives a few cities over, so I imagine they haven't been out to the site since the burial. I'm sure if anyone passed this one by they may have assumed that it was just an empty grave for an upcoming burial. In my experience deputy, most people don't peek into empty graves. So, they wouldn't have spotted the empty casket. Plus, the city only does landscaping in the cemetery every couple of months...Seems reasonable to me to think this could have sat unnoticed this long. I can't believe someone would go to all that trouble just to stage a crime scene. Who’d do such a thing?” She remarked, almost proud of herself for being able to conjure up the shock.

She knew her reaction was genuine of course. It wasn’t as though SAMCRO had let her in on their intentions for the bodies they’d requested from her.

Hale let out a small scoff he fast to reply. “I have my suspicions of who might be the culprits.”

She raised a well manicured brow tilting her head to the side playing dumb. “I'm safe to assume it’s confidential information? Given the obvious investigation and all.”

Hale practically glared straight through her, he fast to respond. “It’s out of my jurisdiction. Lodi P.D. doesn't seem to be interested in what I have to say. As far as they’re concerned this is some sick prank done by some very disturbed individuals. They’re looking into a few suspects of their own…local freaks who’ve been caught loitering around cemeteries in their area.”

She nodded her head trying not to show relief that Lodi’s police weren’t interested in any of Hale’s input. “I hope they find the responsible parties. Things like this are bad for business. I can’t have the bereaved of Charming fearing their loved ones are going to yanked from their final rests. Something like this has the opportunity to sow chaos and paranoia. I’m sure you’d agree.”

Hale sent her a look that could only be described as stern, his lips tight and his eyes narrowed. “Yeah, bad for business.”

He paused, deciding to push a little more. “Speaking of the business. How is that going?”

Y/N pushed a stray bit of hair behind her ear, the bit of hair having managed to work itself loose from the twist she’d put her hair into this morning. “It’s going. It’s been a challenge. My father’s health left a few things around the funeral home in disarray. I think it’s turning around though. Business has been good lately.”

“And how is your brother?” Hale dared to ask watching Y/N straighten out her dress under her coat.

She resisted the urge to glare at him, her brother not entirely a favorite subject of hers to discuss. “He’s fine. He’s started new meds.”

She spoke again, a sigh leaving her. “Is that all you needed, Deputy? I should get back to the funeral home. I have a few phone calls to make regarding this entire mess. The family has already left me a few voicemails I’m sure. I need to do damage control and promise that I will either rebury their loved ones or help them transfer their business to a new funeral home if they desire once the bodies are released back to the families.”

She knew it wasn’t a lie. She was so not looking forward to those phone calls. She was sure she’d be refunding some money so that she didn’t get sued though she had a feeling the families would more likely sue the city given they were in charge of the cemetery and she’d done her part on burying the dead as far as anyone knew. 

“Of course, I do have some concerns though.” Hale replied, deciding to push a little harder.

She cleared her throat hoping any annoyance she showed was more over this situation than the practical interrogation she was enduring. “Yes?”

He spoke knowing she’d probably bite his head off for this. “I know before you left town you weren’t exactly on the straightened arrow Y/N. Am I right in assuming you aren’t going to fall back into any old habits?”

She glared at him, her voice tense and sharp. “I don’t feel that this is an appropriate line of questioning, Deputy. My past is exactly that, in the past. I’ve not gotten as much as a speeding ticket for almost ten years now. My behavior as a teen and in the first year of my twenties is not at all reflective of my conduct as a grown woman. I don’t appreciate being treated like a common criminal especially when my biggest sins consist of underage drinking and some mild misdemeanors. I have worked very hard to clean up my act. I highly doubt it’s the local P.D.’s job to go around condemning innocent citizens for past misbehaviors. If that’s the case then you need to go down and arrest George Goldstein for spray painting the water tower when he was sixteen and maybe arrest Judy Mitchell for the pot she was busted with when she was fifteen.”

She cringed a bit knowing she sounded defensive but she couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity.

Though a voice in the back of her head told her he was right to have the audacity. After all, she’d made contact with the very people who’d encouraged her bad behaviors back then. 

She had done far worse now than some underage drinking and a few public nuisance charges. 

Hale held his hands up in defeat he quick to reply. “I don’t mean any offense Y/N. I promise. I just had to ask. I am happy to have you back in town, especially seeing as you seem to have matured since I last saw you. I’m happy to see you’ve cleaned up your act. Your association with Jax Teller and SAMCRO did always trouble me, given our history.”

She scoffed quick to reply. “We don’t have a history Deputy. You hanging around my brother until you guys were thirteen doesn’t create some weird bond between us.”

She paused, taking a deep breath cooling her temper reminding herself that she couldn’t let him get her all riled up. She had to keep her calm and play the role of a totally innocent funeral director who knew nothing about the local MC or what they’d done with those bodies. 

She spoke, clearing her throat. “As I’ve said, I need to be going. I have a busy day ahead of me. If you have any further inquiries about these graves please don’t hesitate to reach out. You can reach me at the business number for the funeral home.”

With that she turned leaving Hale behind her not noticing that the deputy did have the sense to look a little browbeaten by her comments.

She clenched her fists as Skeeter opened the door to the transport van , they usually used for body pickups, for her before he got into the driver's seat. It was obvious he was more than sure his boss was too pissed to be behind the wheel of a van.

Skeeter didn’t speak until they left the cemetery property. “Are you as innocent as you proclaim to be?”

“I could ask you the same thing?” She remarked adjusting her seatbelt around her neck , the seatbelt was always sitting too high on her body and cutting into her skin.

Skeeter let out a huff at the comment he fast to reply. “Touche.”

He spoke again, shaking his head. “Do I need to be concerned?”

“About what?” She asked, staring down at her nails making the mental note to get a manicure tomorrow she could use a refresh though she usually just had her nails trimmed and painted with gel polish. 

It was a luxury she allowed herself along with the occasional pedicure.

Skeeter sent her a small stern glance fast to respond. “You know what.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Skeeter let out a huff, his hands gripping down on the steering wheel. “That’s what I used to say when I helped out SAMCRO too.”

She felt her stomach drop guilt flooding her, knowing she’d essentially stolen Skeeter’s side gig right out from under him.

She spoke, keeping her voice even and collected. “Everything is fine.”

She paused, shaking her head a small smile crossing her lips though it was weak. “You don’t need to fret over me. I’m a grown woman. I don’t need some man to come along and handle all my problems."

She let out a small laugh fast to speak again. "You know, If I didn’t know better I’d assume your concern meant you were sweet on me.”

Skeeter let out a scoff at the comment, shaking his head a small smile eventually crossing his features. “You aren’t really my type…You’re a little too…”

“A ball buster, a cold hard bitch…oh, a shrew, a C You Next Tuesday with a stick permanently lodged up her ass, a domineering witch with control issues a mile long who must constantly be PMSing. A spooky bitch.” She remarked, the small smile still on her lips remaining she finding humor in poking at her associate about just what kind of reputation she had among the local male population.

Skeeter rolled his eyes quick to reply. “I value my job too much to give any confirmation.”

She chuckled, giving his arm a small pat the words that left her genuine. “And I value you too much as a friend not to be offended by any confirmation.”

Skeeter shook his head as she removed her hand, his voice once again taking a serious tone. “I don’t like you being involved with SAMCRO.”

“What’s good for the gander is good for the goose.” She replied her voice picking up a mild tone of offense over the implication that he was implying that she shouldn’t do anything he might have done. 

“I know, I’m a hypocrite for saying it…just be careful Y/N. You aren’t just my boss…I do care about you. I know just where the Sons can lead you.” Skeeter replied, his voice still holding that serious tone. She couldn’t ignore the hint of dread underneath the tone.

She sighed, shaking her head. “I know, I’m being as careful as I can be. I know SAMCRO well enough. I think we’re both aware of my history.”

Skeeter cringed knowing he’d been around during her wild streak. He’d been apprenticing under her father then. 

She spoke as she reached out, turning up the air in the car. “We both have our indiscretions, Skeet. Let’s just leave this conversation at that.”

He sighed nodding his head, his voice still so serious. “I know.”

He spoke again, shaking his head as they turned down the road heading towards main street. “I feel bad for saying it, but it's kind of a relief for me…The cash from those favors for SAMCRO, it was a little too dangerous to have in my hands.”

“How’s it going…you avoiding triggers?” She dared to ask, well aware of the man’s gambling problem.

She was always worried it would interfere with his ability to work, but he managed aside from the occasional favor he did for SAMCRO that she was all too aware of. 

“It’s going.” was the only response she received.

He glanced over at her needing to say it again. “Just be careful, okay. I don’t want you getting in over your head. Try to learn from my mistakes.”

“I won’t get in over my head. I’ve got it covered. Like I said, everything is fine.” She insisted, uncertain if she was trying to convince him or just trying to convince herself.

—--------------------------------------------------

The news of the empty graves had spread fast and weeks later it was still buzzing around town.

Y/N as the town’s most prominent funeral director was getting sick of the unprompted questions she was being asked by her fellow residents of Charming.

She tried not to grimace as she accepted the fresh cut of skirt steak from the local meat guy at Charming’s biggest grocery store, which honestly wasn’t that big at all. 

The butcher who she was sure was named Oscar spoke looking almost giddy to get to grill her for information. “You find out who robbed those graves yet?”

“No, I’m pretty sure Lodi’s police have it covered.” She replied, trying to keep her voice level and hide any signs of irritation.

He spoke all too eager and ditzy enough to keep the questions coming. “I guess you must see a lotta sick stuff at your job though. I mean you hear the stories.”

“What stories?” She asked, widening her eyes slightly giving a false sense of innocence knowing her best course of action was to play dumb and let him maybe reflect on just how inappropriate this all was.

He shifted in place a bit, his cheeks growing dark enough that they almost matched his thinning red hair. “Uh, you know…you hear stories bout folks who wanna dig up corpses for…uh companionship.”

She cringed her stomach turning at the implication he was making. She spoke a tone of disapproval in her voice “I haven’t heard those stories in my line of work. Any reports of…that happening in the industry are greatly exaggerated.”

With that she tossed the meat into her cart turning to leave she still feeling a little queasy about the entire exchange.

She took a deep breath reminding herself that people had all sorts of wild preconceived notions about people who were attracted to her line of work.

She kept her mind focused on her grocery list. 

For once it seemed that she actually had the budget to buy more than top ramen and produce. 

The payouts from SAMCRO had helped her put money towards a few debts she’d had hanging over her head both relating to her brother’s health issues and improvements her father tried to make around the funeral home.

Her father had spent more than he’d made at one point trying to upkeep the home and now she was left picking up the tab.

Business had picked up as well. It seemed that even with the wild stories flying around about grave robberies that Charming’s residents were willing to use her services.

She’d had enough funerals lately to put some money in her bank account. There had been a car wreck with two casualties, a widow who’d died of a stroke, and most recently some teen had drowned out at a lake up near the Chigger Woods.

She felt bad knowing that people’s losses were her payouts. She knew though that this was the reality of her line of work.

When business was good, that most likely meant someone else was suffering.

She wasn't rolling in money, but she felt like she was close to breaking even. She felt comfortable enough to buy some decent groceries and she felt like she could kind of breathe. She knew she wasn't entirely financially stable, if any surprise expenses came up she might be in trouble. She wasn't fretting over money as much as she'd been though before she'd accepted the Son's payout.

SAMCRO had not come knocking for any more favors. It was something that gave her relief but troubled her.

She wasn’t exactly kicking down her door wanting to see Jax Teller or Tig Trager again, but the absence of SAMCRO after the favor she’d done for them made her feel uneasy.

No one had even shown up to address the obvious grave robberies when both she and they knew just who had done it.

She couldn’t help but to feel a little bitter knowing SAMCRO had disappeared without a trace and had left her to deal with the fallout.

She should have known better by now.

Y/N also had to admit she was missing the presence of a certain Scotsman. 

It was a strange realization to have. She barely knew the man aside from the surprisingly pleasant conversation they’d had in the cemetery that night almost a full month before.

As hard as she tried to deny it, she had to admit Filip spiked her curiosity.

She found him contradicting in a way. 

He looked rough. She’d be blind to deny it. The scars, the general unkemptness, the intense and clearly dangerous energy surrounding him…it was all parts of him that should send her running in the opposite direction.  

He’d seemed so concerned about her that night at the crematorium and the cemetery though. She had a feeling it had something more to do than any worry about her wandering the cemetery after dark. She’d picked up on the implication that he almost seemed to care about how she was coping with everything that had been asked of her. She could remember the little looks he’d sent her throughout the night especially when his brothers said something uncouth. He’d been so quick to make a show of smacking Juice for being so insensitive during the cremation. It almost seemed as though the Scot cared what she thought of him. 

Her brain kept flashing back to that conversation they’d had as she was digging a hole for those cremains. It was small talk honestly, but she’d never had small talk with someone about the beauty of the stars.

In a strange way it almost felt like he was trying to connect with her.

She felt absurd for the thought. 

A voice in the back of her head told her all men were the same; especially men in the MC.

They classified women into two groups: girls they wanted to fuck and girls who they didn’t want to fuck.

A bitter voice told her that any attention the Scottish Son had given her was more likely him hoping to charm his way into her pants and that she shouldn’t read too deeply into it.

Another little voice piped up that him getting into her pants wasn’t such a horrible thing was it?

She’d been frankly going through a dry spell for a few years now. Her bedroom was quite frigid. Usually she had to seek out a bit of self release for her frustrations. 

She had a hard time dating. Most men ran screaming when they realized what she did for a living. Her dating life consisted of men who worked in her industry. Her longest relationship had been with a fellow student during her time at mortuary school. She’d found that her partners disappointed her though. If they didn’t run screaming they just seemed like they didn’t click with her. 

The Scotsman didn’t seem to be running…though he’d not contacted her since that night in the cemetery.

Even with the radio silence lately she could remember he’d been quite flirty with her. It had felt different from Jax’s methods of flirtation. 

There was something kind of charming about the Scot. His little flirtations had seemed genuine and not just a means to get something out of her. It was so unlike the way the flirtation had always felt with Jax. 

She would be a liar if she tried to pretend that the phone conversation the Scotsman and she had about the Son’s use of the cremator that night didn’t send a thrill through her. 

It was alarming that the sound of his voice alone and a little pet name like love could pull that reaction from her. She’d tried to deny it but she did feel a certain heat spread through her under his gaze. She was almost certain her clit would throb like a broken tooth just from his gaze and voice alone, and she didn’t want to even think about those  dimples or the intensity behind his eyes.

She’d maybe noticed he had nice hands too; sort of elegant as strange as that sounded. He had long fingers and she had to admire the golden biker rings lining them. She had noticed and appreciated the fact this nails were neatly trimmed. In her opinion most guys neglected their nails. There was nothing grosser than dirty fingernails on a guy who expected to shove those fingers in more delicate areas. 

The Scotsman’s hands seemed strong and as though they understood a hard day's work. She had to imagine the roughness of his hands might feel incredible against her soft skin. 

She found herself distinctly remembering a roommate she’d had for a short while when she’d first moved to New York. The girl had praised the wonders of older men in the bedroom.

She’d remarked that Y/N’s disappointment in the bedroom stemmed from the fact that she was relying on boys to do something a man could do a hell of a lot better.

Y/N had hated to admit it but the comment did seem likely. She’d lost track of the times she’d laid in bed after a sexual encounter and found she’d not reached her end, but her partner had definitely got there all too quickly. It was made worse by the fact that she’d had to fake it so as not to bruise the poor guy’s egos.

She’d not had many partners back in New York, but the few she’d had had been a let down.

A voice claimed that the Scottish Son would not let her down in bed. Filip seemed old enough to have figured out how to please a woman by now.

She groaned, tossing a jar of peanut butter into her cart as she neared the check out lane. She did not need to be going down this road.

She once again mentally scolded herself that Filip was not getting anywhere near her bed nor any other surface for that matter.

She’d outgrown the desire to spread her legs for bad boys on Harleys. 

She ignored that obnoxious voice that piped up that Filip was no boy.

Y/N began to drop her items on the conveyor belt at the check out probably a little too harshly but she was tired and annoyed both from questions from seemingly everyone about grave robberies and her own mental dilemma about her feelings towards a certain Scottish Son.

She felt her stomach turn as she heard a voice behind her. “Y/N?”

She turned trying to seem as though she wasn’t ready to have a nervous breakdown as her gaze met the gaze of Dr. Tara Knowles.

She spoke her voice tight hoping the good doctor would read her expression as general sleepiness from errands. “Tara.”

“How are you?” the woman replied clearly happy to catch up.

Y/N cleared her throat placing a bag of spinach on the belt. “I’m well, just busy lately, tired, and you?”

“Same. Though I can’t imagine how stressed you probably are. I don’t blame you for being tired. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask about the graves…I imagine you’ve been asked enough.” Tara replied the comment soothing Y/N slightly.

She shifted in place as she watched the cashier scan her items, the older woman moving at a snail's pace. 

Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if Tara knew about her history with Jax Teller. Tara had been long gone and had left Charming by the time Y/N had begun hanging around SAMCRO.

Y/N was all too aware of the hole Tara had left behind in Jax Teller though.

Y/N had easily realized she had at times operated as a place for Jax to fill that void if only for a short moment. It had become clear from the very few encounters he’d had with her that she wasn’t the woman he wanted underneath him.

Y/N had been upset about it at the time not because she had held any romantic notions for the Prince of SAMCRO, but because she’d allowed herself to be used in that way.

It was one of the many reasons Y/N had pulled from that world.

She almost found it strangely amusing that two women who had both run away from SAMCRO were standing side by side. Two women who were similar in more ways than they realized.

Tara spoke, nodding her head. “I’m sorry to hear about your father. It seems like you’ve got the home running though?”

“I have…I’m sorry about your father as well.” Y/N remarked, still having to admit she wasn’t entirely accustomed to the showings of sympathy when it came to her late father.

The funeral had felt surreal and she’d barely registered the words of the mourners who’d shown their respects.

A small part of her had to wonder if Tara had felt the same about her own father. She almost wanted to ask, but the question felt far too sensitive for old acquaintances. 

Tara had been around back then of course, hanging out with Y/N’s brother and Jax and Opie.

Y/N had been younger though, not entirely prone to tagging along with the older kids.

Tara cleared her throat as she responded Y/N placing the divider down between their groceries. “Thank you. It’s strange being back here…it’s like some things are exactly how I left them. I’m sure you know the feeling. I mean, you’re back as well.”

“I am…it does feel like some things about this place exist in a vacuum…things outside change but everything within remains.” Y/N replied having to admit she felt the same in more ways than Tara realized.

Tara cleared her throat again as she spoke, placing her own groceries down on the belt. “I don’t suppose you heard about Jax?”

She raised an eyebrow, paranoia running through her. Why was Tara asking her about the Sons?

Tara spoke again, shaking her head. “I mean, I know you probably haven’t seen him in years…I know Danny was close to us all…before the accident.” 

Y/N glared down at the pears as they passed by her on the conveyor belt, the mention of her brother and who he’d been before the accident making her feel terrible. “I know.”

Tara spoke again, smart enough to realize she’d struck a nerve. She seemed eager to get on with it and make sure Y/N knew this wasn’t some way to bring up her brother and make her feel awful. “Uh, Jax is a dad now.”

Y/N widened her eyes at the news, it hitting her like a brick to the head. She never would have suspected. She sighed, shaking her head. “Didn’t even know he got anyone pregnant.”

“His ex wife…she’s in bad shape. It’s not my place to share it, but the baby…Abel, he’s premature. I’ve been taking care of him up at Saint Thomas.” Tara shared she resisted the urge to go into too much detail.

Tara certainly wasn’t going to explain Wendy’s medical history nor the antagonism from Gemma Teller Morrow.

Y/N furrowed her brow at the information. It seemed that things in Charming hadn’t stayed as in a vacuum as Tara and she had been discussing. 

She felt a chill run down her spine at the mention of Abel Teller. Her line of work meant she’d taken care of a few premature infants who didn’t make it.

It was a depressing reality about her profession; children died.

She had proven to be quite proficient in dealing with infant and child mortalities. It was something the funeral director she’d apprenticeshiped under in New York had praised her for.

Y/N was capable of providing a nurturing environment to mourn for parents and keeping her wits about her enough to get the job done.

Everyone had a talent. Y/N kind of hated that one of her talents consisted of comforting and tending to bereaved parents and their dead kids.

She spoke hoping and praying that she wouldn’t be attending to Abel Teller. “How is he?...the baby?”

“It was hit and miss at first. Only time will tell.” Tara replied she biting her tongue, resisting to spill her heart to Y/N about everything she was feeling.

She had a feeling it was mostly due to the fact that Y/N was also returning to her hometown after the death of a parent. 

Tara had a feeling that Y/N might be able to relate on that issue, even if Y/N’s issue didn’t exactly also include SAMCRO and a history with it.

Y/N cleared her throat as her final item was scanned and it was time to pay. “I hope for his sake that time will do him well. I hope my services won’t be needed.”

Tara felt a chill run down her spine at the comment. She was suddenly reminded that Y/N, as sweet as she looked, could be intense. She guessed it made sense though. Y/N was casual about death as Tara was about surgical procedures.

Y/N sighed as she began to roll her cart away from the register. “I’ll see you around Tara.”

Y/N didn’t wait for a reply, her mind feeling thick and exhaustion peaking up in the deepest parts of her soul.

She just wanted to go home and take a long bath, maybe have some wine.

Little did she know though fate had a different plan.

============================

The Acura started sputtering not long after she left the grocery store. She groaned knowing that this wasn’t an entirely new development.

Given her debts, she had maybe put off car maintenance. She knew it was foolish. She saw the deadly results of poorly maintained vehicles thanks to her job.

It was easier to preach automotive safety when you weren’t broke though.

She grimaced as the car drug it was obvious it wouldn’t make the trip home, and even if it did it wouldn’t make any other trips.

She sighed knowing there was only one automotive shop close enough for her car to make it.

She cringed as she pulled the sputtering vehicle into the lot of TM Auto. She tried to ignore the fact that the automotive lot was located on the same lot as the Sons clubhouse.

It was a place she’d spent far too much time engaging in debauchery almost a decade before. She was too close for comfort to a piece of her past.

Chibs Telford noticed the familiar Acura drag its way into the lot. He moved a little too quickly to approach it.

He felt a giddy sense of excitement hit him at the realization that he’d be seeing Charming’s local funeral director quite soon.

He’d not forgotten his silent pledge to solve the puzzle that was Y/N. It was just that shit with the club had gotten so hectic that he’d not had the time to properly devote to his goals.

He’d debated using the number he’d saved in his flip phone to give her a call, but he’d feared how that interaction would go. Besides what would he say?

He’d been debating his next move while trying to keep his mind focused on the rebuild of the warehouse, issues with the supply of guns from the IRA, and other numerous issues that had landed on SAMCRO’s feet.

He’d be lying if he tried to pretend that she hadn’t been on the back of his mind constantly for almost a month now. He’d even maybe picked up the habit of reading the obituaries in the local paper that was always delivered to TM Auto trying to pretend that he wasn’t searching for the name of her business. 

He felt like a man obsessed and knew this action was a sign of his infatuation. He didn’t want to get shit from his brothers about the fact that he’d taken such a liking to their new funeral home connection. 

It seemed that fate was throwing him a bone by placing the very woman he’d been thinking about right on his path.

He approached her car, opening the driver's side door, he hoping he sounded as charming as he was attempting to. “Lass, long time no see.”

She peered at him through a pair of oversized sun shades almost tempted to point out that he and his brothers had left her high and dry to deal with their little grave robbing antics.

She held it in though reminding herself she needed these idiots to fix her clearly dying car. “I’m having car trouble.”

She tried not to eye the name embroidered into the work shirt he was wearing: Chibs. So, she guessed not everyone called him Filip. 

“Aye, when’s the las’ time ya took it in?” He asked not shying away from jumping into assisting her.

She shrugged her shoulders making a small joke, finding it easier to use humor to deflect how unhappy she was to be back in her old stomping grounds. “You’re supposed to maintain it? I’ve just been putting a post it over the pretty lights on my dash. I find them distracting.”

He rolled his eyes not showing that he found the snark kind of endearing. “I’m guessin’ it’s been a while then.”

She shrugged a sigh leaving her. “The oil has been leaking, but I’ve not had the time to do anything about it.”

She left out the last part of her statement or the funds.

“Aye could be yer head gasket that’s causin’ the oil leaks. The sputterin could be anything from the exhaust system to the spark plugs.” Chibs replied not missing the grimace on her features.

She ran a hand through her hair, a sigh leaving her. All she heard was bills bills bills, more debt to throw into the pot.

He spoke nodding his head. “It’s nothin’ I can’t fix though…might be costly and take some time.”

She cringed, rolling her eyes speaking more to herself than to him. “Great another bill…At least I have the old hearse to get around town. It’s retired from using in the business but my father couldn’t part from it. I guess his packrat tendencies for funeral equipment saved me at least transportation wise.”

“Aye, good thing we gave ya that payout though…should help with the bill.” Chibs remarked not missing the comment about the hearse or her father’s habit of hoarding funeral equipment the information both fascinating and a little worrisome.

She let out a scoff, turning her gaze towards him for only a moment before she stared down at her nails. “I had to invest every last penny of those lovely payouts in my debts. I can probably manage a bill from my legit earnings from work, but if it gets too expensive I might be fucked.”

She sighed not liking the slight hint of pity in his gaze. She spoke once again partially talking to herself working her anxieties out outloud. “I may have to let the stupid car go. I mean people around town already treat me like a pariah…in the most polite, condescending way possible…I may as well just drive a damn hearse in my day to day life. I might as well become a walking talking stereotype of a mortician. Who knows how long the old hearse will last though. I might wind up back here with another ruined car.” 

Chibs spoke the words leaving him before he had a chance to stop them. “As far as payment goes…I’m sure we could figure out an arrangement fer a lower bill.”

She frowned another scoff leaving her as she spoke her voice low though she knew the few people within their earshot weren’t paying them any mind. “I’m assuming by arrangement, you mean the next favor I do is on the house.”

Chibs cringed admitting the idea had crossed his mind. He was sure Clay would be delighted to have Y/N owing a favor on the house. Clay would be proud if Chibs came up with a way to get a favor from SAMCRO’s newest asset in exchange for car repairs. 

Chibs hated the concept though, it seemed kind of like a dick move. Chibs was no stranger to dick moves, but he wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of using Y/N’s car as a way to coax her into doing another favor for free.

He spoke, pulling a cigarette from the pocket of his work shirt, a sudden idea entering his mind. He had to hope she wouldn’t slap him for presenting it. “Ya could have a date with me. Tha’ coul’ be the arrangement.” 

She glared up at him, interpreting the offer completely the wrong way. Her voice rose as she began to chastise him. “I don’t know what Jackson or any of your buddies told you about me, but I am not a club whore, buddy. I am not the kind of girl who spreads her legs in the clubhouse dorm. Fuck you, if you even think I’m sleeping with you in exchange for car work. You can shove that arrangement right up your Scottish ass.”

He stepped back having to admit he was equally mortified, amused, and even a little turned on by her reaction. 

He held his hands up in defeat as he cleared up his statement. “I don’ mean a date like that lass. I mean…I wouldn’t turn ya down fer the offer ta sleep with me…I aint askin fer ya in my bed in exchange for autowork though. I may be a prick, but I ain’ that big of a prick.”

He paused, relieved to see that her claws seemed to be retracting. He spoke nodding over at the car. “I’m jus askin fer a chance to take a pretty lass out fer dinner and me fixin her car is jus a bonus.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Doesn’t make me feel any less like I’m prostituting myself for car repairs.”

He spoke, shaking his head, his hand daring to reach out and caress her arm relieved that she didn’t yank from his touch. “Ya ain’ if it makes ya feel better ya can pay a reduced bill, if it bein' free makes ya feel like shite then I’ll take payment as well as a date.”

She sighed, tempted to once again tell him to shove it up his Scottish ass though a voice in the back of her head perked up that it was a nice backside. 

She ignored the warning bells and harsh voice in the back of her mind telling her this was a bad idea. She ignored the voice that told her a date with Chibs would mean she was right back to being the club hangaround.

She stared up at him trying to read if he was absolutely full of shit or not. She had a feeling he was, but not in this instance at least. 

What could one date hurt? 

“Fine, it's a date. You call me with the plans. You can reach me at my business number.”

He smirked quick to speak. “I already got yer personal cell number love, ya do member our talk awhile back.” 

She rolled her eyes wanting to snap that of course she remembered. She was tempted to scold him for saving her number behind her back. She wanted to scold him for a lot of things, some things that weren’t technically even his fault.

She resisted the urge, resigning herself to her fate. The sooner she agreed to this hairbrained date idea the sooner she could go home and take that bath she wanted. “Okay, now can I get someone to give me a ride home…preferably someone with a car…I have groceries in the back of mine that are spoiling as I stand here listening to your nonsense.”

He smirked having to like that she once again had to find a way to give him grief. He found it less annoying and more delightful. It had been a long time since a woman had given him so much crap and he’d genuinely found it appealing.

“Aye, Gemma’ll give ya a ride. Jus’ head into the office let er know yer here with a wrecked car and ya need a ride.” He replied,  a joyful feeling settling over him. He had a date with Charming’s resident funeral director.

She cringed at the order not looking forward to coming face to face with the Queen of SAMCRO.

She grabbed her purse from her car refusing to glance back at Chibs even as he spoke that flirty tone clear in his voice. “I’ll call ya tonigh’ with those dinner plans lass.”

She let out a huff wondering how she got herself into these messes lately. Why did SAMCRO insist on making her life more complicated than it needed to be? 

[yurakaistories]

Two of a Kind

╰┈➤ Part One: Unfortunate Meeting

"A disembodied fragment of a fallen Night Warden's spirit is on the loose. From what we managed to gather, he was a person filled with negative emotions, such as rage, vengeance, and guilt. The remnant managed to get into the Leylines and traveled through them all the way to Liyue due to Leyline disruptions. Some herb collectors spotted it near Tianqiu Valley in the form of a shadowy figure surrounded by a black and dark purple aura with glowing eyes. They didn't get too close, so we have no idea how it behaves, but it'll most likely be hostile. Kinich, you're going to go to Liyue and get rid of the remnant before somebody gets hurt."

"Got it.”

───── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─────

“This is stupid,” Ajaw huffed. “Why do we have to chase this stupid remnant? I’m sure Liyue can send one of their adepti to get rid of it!” Kinich just sighed. “Because it came from Natlan, and it’s our fault for not being cautious enough and letting it travel all the way to Liyue,” Kinich explained to Ajaw, who had been a nuisance almost the entire journey. Kinich’s answer didn’t satisfy him. “But it’s in Liyue now, so it’s their problem, not ours!” Ajaw retorted, but Kinich just got more annoyed. “Why do I even bother explaining this to you?” he mumbled more to himself than to Ajaw. 

Deciding to ignore Ajaw and focus on the mission instead, he went through the details in his head again and pulled out the map of Liyue that was kindly given to him before he left Natlan. 

He was almost in Tianqiu Valley, where the remnant had been last spotted. Nothing secured that the fragment would still be present there, so it didn’t surprise Kinich that when he had finally arrived, he found that the Night Warden remnant had already headed somewhere else. It only made sense; quite some time had passed between when the people from Liyue spotted it and his arrival. 

After further looking around, he found some faint traces of elemental energy leading towards the northeast. 

“You’re not seriously going to follow that!” Ajaw inclined, floating right in front of Kinich, who just pushed the yellow pixel saurian away and headed towards Cuijue Slope.

───── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─────

A cool breeze of wind blew against his exhausted body. He sighed, the current of air feeling soothing against his tense muscles. Previously, Xiao had overestimated his capacities and indulged in a battle that completely strained him. In the end he won, but he paid the price of overworking his body in this way.

The soft grass he was sitting on, along with the soft glow of the moon, created an atmosphere that brought him peace. He let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and closed his eyes. This was a moment he rarely got, yet one he desired very often. One of peace and solitude. But even now, the gods didn’t grant him this peace, as suddenly he felt a dark presence behind him. A shiver ran down his spine as he sensed how chaotic and conflicted this being was.

He stood up and turned to face it, quickly equipping his Jade-Winged Spear. Xiao’s golden eyes locked onto that entity, a roughly human silhouette out of an unfamiliar energy with two glowing eyes, filled with despisal directed towards the adeptus.

His body might not be able to handle a battle right now, and he was unaware of the creature’s power, but that didn’t stop him from getting into a defensive stance. The hostility towards him wasn’t something he could overlook easily. 

His thoughts were racing. What is this thing? Perhaps a manifestation of the resentment of an evil god I killed? His stomach turned at the idea. But he regained his composure as he realized that this creature differed greatly from what he knew and his assumptions had been incorrect. 

He wasn’t given much more time to think about what this thing might be because it charged at him for an attack, an attack he was barely able to dodge. It used its powers to form claws that resembled those of an animal, but he had never seen an animal in Liyue with such claws before. Normally he could fight back and take the entity down easily, but not at this moment. Not with his aching muscles and body. 

He looked around, trying to use his surroundings to his advantage. On his left was a high tree he could seek refuge in. He jumped up onto a broad branch and looked down at the shadowy figure.

It didn’t move.

Then suddenly, it vanished. 

Is it gone now? 

Xiao gasped as that threatening presence appeared right behind him. It used its claws once again; Xiao was forced to step back, but he had forgotten that he was on a tree branch and not on solid ground, so his feet stepped into the air and he fell back.

He managed to land on his feet, but his knees bent from the impact, making them ache and worsening the condition of his already weakened body. 

Looking up at the creature, his eyes widened as he saw it jumping right at him. He gripped his spear tightly and held it up in an attempt to block the attack, but Xiao knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to hold it off in this weakened state. Still, he was determined.

However, before it could reach Xiao, a green ball of dendro hit the entity, causing it to dismantle and dissolve. Xiao’s gaze followed where the blast came from, seeing a young man standing there along with a yellow pixel creature. 

Xiao stood up and staggered, not making eye contact for a while. A mortal had to help him, an adeptus. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by that. Instead of a genuine thank you, he instead decided to say, “You didn’t have to intervene.”

Kinich couldn’t help but sigh. “You would’ve gotten hurt. I helped you. You owe me, but you can’t even say ‘thank you,’” he said in a displeased tone. Xiao finally managed to stand up straight and replied, “I didn’t request your help. I don’t owe you.”

Even though Kinich helped Xiao and strictly believes everything has its price, he had to admit that Xiao was right. His help was never requested. Xiao never consented to “buying” his help, so why should he have to pay the price?

“Fine, you win,” Kinich obliged. Ajaw looked at Kinich in shock. “Really?! You never give up as easily when you want to demand the debts of others!” “Shut it.” Kinich’s words were rough, but Ajaw just crossed his pixel arms and looked away like an insulted child. 

Xiao tries to walk away, his pride still hurt. He could’ve easily defeated it. For example, when he first saw it appear behind him. If he hadn’t wasted his time thinking about what it might be and instead would’ve just attacked it right away, he would’ve managed to kill it. Especially since the power of a human’s dendro vision was able to dismantle it so easily.

Seeing Xiao try to leave but stagger this way, Kinich followed him for a few steps. “You’re not in good condition. Do you require—” “No.” 

…

Kinich was surprised; he barely finished his sentence, and Xiao already declined him. “That’s stupid. You’re in terrible condition. You need help,” Kinich inclined, but then Ajaw chimed in, “Come on, Kinich! Let’s just go. He obviously doesn’t want your help, so let’s stop wasting time.” “Silence.” Kinich’s words were harsh towards Ajaw, but then he looked back at Xiao and came closer again. 

“Stay away,” Xiao warned. “Your help is not needed; I am able to handle myself like this,” he continued. “Don’t be childish. Just let someone help you,” Kinich said. His words upset Xiao. “Why do you care? You don’t even know me. There’s no reason for you to spend your time and energy to help me. I’m sure you’ll be able to use it on something that also benefits you.”

The argument went back and forth, Xiao insisting on handling this alone, though his words had no meaning looking at this condition. He needed help. So why wouldn’t he accept it? 

“Stop being foolish; you’re in a terrible state. You don’t owe me. But letting yourself get harmed even more out of pride is just wasteful.” Kinich’s voice was rough, infuriated by Xiao’s stubbornness. Even if Kinich isn’t that much of a fan of helping others for free, he doesn’t tolerate self-destruction.

Affected by Kinich’s behavior, Xiao raised his voice. “I won’t. Just leave me be. I have no need for your concern. Do not put yourself in unnecessary danger by trying to help me; it would be a waste of your limited time, mortal,” he declared, hoping this argument would end soon. Spending what little energy he has left on trying to persuade Kinich to leave him alone wasn’t good for his body, not that he cared much.

“What kind of foolish mindset is that? Trying to do everything on your own will only end in your demise,” Kinich hissed. “That’s not nobility. That’s arrogance,” he continued.

Xiao’s anger rose. “Don’t act as if you know me or my motives. You’re a mortal human, while I’ve lived for thousands of years. You couldn’t possibly grasp the intentions I have behind every single action I proceed to carry out. Don’t waste your time on me. I’m not worth it.”

He wasn’t yelling. His tone was surprisingly low when he said this, but that doesn’t change the hateful undertone that he carried through his words, even if the hate wasn’t targeted towards Kinich.

Kinich opened his mouth to say something back, to disagree with Xiao, but knew he had been unreasonable. He stayed silent for a few seconds, thinking about the situation, before finally giving in. “Fine… I’ll leave you alone.” Admitting his mistake was still a little difficult for him, but after seeing Xiao, he realized that trying to force his assistance only worsened his condition. 

A little ashamed by his actions, he gave Xiao one last glance before turning around and walking away. Ajaw laughed, enjoying Kinich’s defeated expression. “Finally! It’s about time we finally head back.”

Xiao watched Kinich leave, relieved that he’s finally alone again. He headed the opposite direction, towards a safe spot he knew he could rest in. Though something inside him had stirred when Kinich left, he didn’t pay this feeling much attention.

A/N: Not what I usually post, but me and my wife decided it would be a fun idea to ship our mains in Genshin Impact. As a writer, I did what writers do and made a fanfic. It's my first fanfiction too. This will become a series, though part two will probably take long until published. Also, if there's any mischaracterization or wrong lore in here you can tell me, just write a comment.

[kookidough]

i know world tour rewrites are probably overdone by now but i wanna see an alenoah world tour rewrite where pretty much everything is the same but (predictably) it changes at/around i see london

so in this rewrite, pre-london, similarly to canon alejandro is flirting with other teams to get them off their game and eliminate them (cough cough bridgette, leshawna, etc) but he thinks it’d be a good idea to flirt with someone on his own team- not to throw them off their game, but to get a closer bond with them and hopefully a steady alliance once merge rolls around. after all, it’s easier to get closer to a team member than an enemy right now.

he’s weighing up his options and he Hates owen, izzy is Insane, and tyler serves no use to him, which leaves noah.. alejandro thinks he’ll be a good choice since while noah is weak he does somewhat try in challenges and he is very smart, so having him as an ally will benefit alejandro, also he genuinely enjoys noah company, viewing him as being on the same level as him in levels of wit/intelligence/humour, so boom it’s settled, noah will be his ally post-merge

anyway back to i see london, the episode goes the same up until the elimination ceremony, alejandro yaps in the confessional about it being unfair that chris let team amazon win since his team were the ones that actually caught the ripper-type guy. he also knows that since he was caught before the challenge even started, he’s probably going home !! so he needs to figure out a way to gaslight gatekeep girlboss everyone and stay in the game

he, like in canon, is of course irritated at noah for talking about him behind his back and thinks about eliminating him, despite previously thinking he’d be a good ally. this is where i diverge fully from canon and say he can’t really risk losing an ally here and maybe, without noah having the influence of anyone else, he’ll be able to turn things around with him. izzy is already gone so if alejandro eliminates owen, then noah will have no other allies and most likely be searching for one, so this is where alejandro can swoop back in and continue to ally with him (while definitely planning to use him for his intelligence and double cross him later as revenge for gossiping about him, and also because alejandro wants to win)

so with 2 votes for ale and 3 votes for owen, the big guy is sent packing and things are playing out the way alejandro wants them to. when he approaches noah for an alliance he’s surprised at how little convincing it takes, and he thinks this plan will be easier than he thought

hoooowever noah is also planning to double cross him and he approaches heather, despite disliking her, because he knows shes currently the only other one that can see through alejandro. he may not like heather but he knows she’s smart and a very capable player and hey, if things go south then it can’t be that hard to get her eliminated, because she’s literally heather

so just . AUFHHR i need this dynamic of noah and alejandro thinking they’re one step ahead of each other and they’ve got each other all figured out but they’re actually both just playing each other’s game and they have all the stupid flirty rival banter while they tango around their feelings for each other it’s great

and they dont even have to be final 2 !!! maybe their plans crumble and they end up voted off and get into some tense aftermath segment and have a very chaotic game of “truth or volcanic eruption” !!