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togetherweflyhigh · 4 years ago

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Chronicles Of Owning A Hybrid| Chapter 1: Here You Are

Pairing: Ragdoll Hybrid! Yoongi x Owner! Female Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU, slow burn, eventual romance

Trigger Warnings: Brief mentions of past harassment/bullying, brief mentions of being gaslighted

W/C: 2.2k

A/N: So, I wrote something. This was very spontaneous of me but this is my first BTS and hybrid related fic. I very much have plans to have this as a small series. From short to long chapters. I have no idea how much this will be updated.

Comments and kudos are encouraged!

It wasn’t supposed to happen, truthfully.

You were asked by a friend to attend a consultation with them because they felt nervous about going in alone. They needed some support so, going with them was going to be fine. Because that’s all that was supposed to happen.

Now, here you were at your appointment, alone because you weren’t sure how to ask your friend since they were home still getting associated with their hybrid. Nobody knew you were here doing this. Reviewing over a cat hybrid- a Ragdoll- that was on his fourth strike.

Past families that adopted this hybrid before only saw the breed he was. A pretty Ragdoll cat. Not the human he mostly presented as. They thought that just because he was mixed with a Ragdoll meant he would be gentle, calm, and sociable. A known cat breed to be perfect with families. What they got was the complete opposite.

The most they seemed to be able to tell you was he’d been adopted four times already, the longest housing being six months. He was quiet and didn’t interact much with the other hybrids in the shelter. Mostly stayed in the same areas in the room they had for them. The way they spoke about him, made you think they were trying to discourage you from adoption. You couldn’t see what was so wrong with him even when they were describing him as distant and antisocial, overall unfriendly. It still didn’t make you rethink it for some reason. Something in you wanted to give him a place to call home after hearing all this.

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A few weeks went by with no word from the shelter. You were starting to think the extra shifts for the past month and a half at work for preparation were in vain. Perhaps they were being more cautious of his strikes and worried you would return him like all the others. If it was, for this reason, you really couldn’t blame them to be picky about who was to attempt adopting him next. You could only hope they cared so much for those in their care.

As you washed some dishes that had been a bit overdue, your phone rang. You weren’t quick to answer, at first, as hope had gone from high to low in the few weeks. Though, you still dried your hands-off because it could have been work. Who knew you’d be seeing the number you’d familiarize yourself with. Your heartbeat must have doubled as you stumbled over, sliding the answer button. “H-Hello?” You answered, cringing over your nervous voice. “This is Hope’s Shelter calling for (Y/N)(L/N), we were wondering if you were still interested in adopting?” The words felt like they were going through one ear and out the other. You weren’t all too sure what to expect when answering the call but hope had suddenly being reassured. “Yes, of course!” You answered almost too quickly. The eagerness felt as if it was spilling out of you at this point. “Great! Would Thursday be fine for you to come in?” It was currently Monday, another few days was nothing to wait for after these weeks. “That works out perfectly.”

After the short goodbyes were said, you stood there in your kitchen nearly dumbfounded. You were officially days away from adopting a hybrid. Suddenly, the mixed feeling of excitement and worry came over you. The first week was only filled with thoughts of not living in your apartment alone anymore. In the past, you had roommates. Some worked out just fine and others not so much. To the point, you never wanted to experience them again unless it was a close friend.

The second week was filled with doubts of if you even seemed worthy enough to take care of another, especially when the other couldn’t exactly take care of themselves. Hybrids didn’t have much freedom. They couldn’t go anywhere alone without their owners. Unless they were service hybrids, which there was a lot to go through to get them certified. They really couldn’t do anything and suddenly thinking about that, you realize how weird it’s going to be for someone to call or to even refer to you as their ‘owner’ will be.

There was no way in hell you could treat hybrids as a pet. They were way more human than human and capable of feelings of understanding, not at all saying normal animals weren’t capable of such. There were a few times you’d gone over to a friend’s house and they introduced you to their hybrid. Sure they had some traits of the animal they were mixed with, but they acted like their human part in front of you for the most part. This was nearly the only time you’d interacted with hybrids. So, the experience was on the low of how they truly acted behind closed doors.

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The few days of waiting went by sluggishly. Mentally you had a list of things to do or things you thought you needed to do before Thursday. You went out and bought a few different types of clothes, not much as you had no idea of what he would like. Bought more food than you’d ever stocked your home with before, again, not knowing what he would like. There was so much you didn’t even know about him yet, not even his name.

Standing in front of the shelter, the weeks and days of waiting were finally over. The nerves and enthusiasm had mellowed out in the slow waiting days. Though, you couldn’t help feel a little nervous walking into the shelter.

Almost immediately, you were pulled into an office to go over some paperwork. It was nearly the same as papers to adopt a normal animal. It didn’t seem as strict since you didn’t need things for an animal. Though, you were surprised at how they didn’t seem so… disheartening towards you anymore.

Signing the papers felt unreal as the pen glided across the paper. You had officially adopted a hybrid.

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Being a hybrid wasn’t all it was cut out to be, at least, not for Yoongi. Spending nearly all his life in the shelter. Maybe a year and a half were in actual homes. It was probably not even that if he was being honest with himself, but after the third home, he stopped counting the days and hoping.

The first time he was adopted, he was around ten years old, a little old for being adopted but nothing too bad. The family was looking for a hybrid around their twin son and daughter’s age, and Yoongi just happened to be two years younger than them. It was perfect they thought. It seemed like a happy family a month in but there was change. The children were constantly harassing him, pulling his ears and tail, pressured him to do things that would get the adults involved to the point of punishments.

It went on for months before they returned him, saying he was a deceiver and untameable. Yoongi was unsure of what they meant by this as it was their children who were the liars. Even when he told the caregivers of the time he had with them, it never seemed like they thought he was telling the truth either.

It was some years before Yoongi was adopted again. Age thirteen going on fourteen. He was adopted by a young couple. Must have been between the ages twenty-two to twenty-five. He never got around to asking because as soon as he was there he was brought back. The couple seemed to want to prove to themselves that they could take care of another breathing being. That is what he gathered by overhearing them a few times. All it did was tear them apart in the end over disagreements on how to take care of him.

The next two times were practically the same. One was lonely while the other was another person trying to prove something to themselves. Yoongi was done with these humans and their selfish ways. He didn’t want to attempt to get close with them anymore when he knew that they would return him like a replaceable item in the end.

Yet, another was trying to adopt him again. ‘I’m too old for this.’ He thought to himself when he was dragged into the office to be told someone was interested in him. Being twenty-five years old as a hybrid was considered old. Unadoptable. Plus he was on his fourth strike. A fifth- and by law- would mean he would have to be put to sleep.

The weeks dragged on because of him constantly denying to see through with this person’s desire to adopt him. It was an actual decision between life and death. He thought about it though. Would he rather be stuck in here? Wasting away inclosed in white walls or to live out in the world just a little bit longer, if the person would let him out that was.

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

The introduction of you and the hybrid, who you now knew as Yoongi was, well, short and awkward. Was it to be expected? The short answer is yes. Yoongi seemed unfazed and distant right away which, in a way, you know he would be like this. The real question was, was he always going to be like this. You were new to each other, so feeling like strangers was going to be present for a while.

The taxi ride home was silent. Nothing but the sound of wheels on the pavement with random songs playing on the radio softly. You wanted to make some kind of conversation with Yoongi, you did, but with awkwardness still lingering heavily in the air, it was difficult to start with anything. It was interesting to spot his ears out of the corner of your eye, twitching ever so often.

The climb up the stairs was just as silent. Nothing but the taps of feet with some huffs from you nearly the top. No matter how many times you’d walked up these four flights of stairs, you were sure to always be out of breath before reaching your door.

By the time you reached your door, you were indeed out of breath, and with the last huff, you pulled out your key unlocking the door, pushing it open revealing the seemingly small apartment. “And home.” You spoke out as you began pulling your shoes off, placing them on a rack before slipping into house slippers. “Oh, here’s some slippers for you. If you want to wear them.” You already owned some for when you had guests but you went ahead and bought new ones specially for Yoongi. Looking at them now, they seemed a bit… small. Though it didn’t seem to matter as Yoongi slipped off the shoes the shelter provided and ignored the slippers.

“I have a room for you ready.” You spoke again after a moment of silence. Seems silence between you two was something you were going to have to get used to. Walking through the kitchen and living area- either side had a room the same size. Though the room to the right used to be your storage and office space, you were able to move things around in your room for your desk and got rid of some stuff you’ve been meaning to. Now the once-office turned back to a bedroom. It was pretty bare besides the matching wood bed and dresser you’d bought.

Moving aside to the doorframe, allowing Yoongi in the room to inspect it. His eyes never seemed to stop taking in things. His ears moved with him as he looked around and his tail was low as the tip curled to one side.

As he took in the new home, you took in his unique hair color. It was probably the Ragdoll genes but the contrast between his hair and the fur on his ears and tail were a bit different. His hair was silver-grey and as for the fur, it was a bit lighter in the same color. You wondered for a moment if his DNA was manipulative to make the animal features stand out more but you quickly shook the thought away. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable even though it was just a thought.

“There’s some clothes in the dresser. I wasn’t sure what you like so, there are a few things in the dresser. Just for until we go shopping.” The response you got was nothing but an ‘mhm’. Yoongi seemed uninterested but curious about the clothes you’d gotten. He wanted to know if it was the type they would get him. Well-fitted ones that rubbed and itched all over. As he pulled them out, sure enough, there were the ones he knew he would find but as he kept pulling out and unfolding the clothes he found some that were baggy and much softer. Something about watching him digging through the clothes felt endearing and it showed on your face with a small smile on your lips.

As you turned away to allow him to have some privacy you wondered to yourself what Yoongi would want to have for dinner.

#min yoongi x reader #hybrid!yoongi x reader #hybrid!bts x reader #bts x reader #bts hybrid au #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts au #min yoongi #yoongi x reader

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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years ago

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i don't know if you're still taking prompts (so please ignore this if you aren't) but i cant stop thinking about your recent buckytony fic (and how much i love breaking up and making up as a trope) - so i was wondering if you'd be up for doing smth else w that trope for buckytony?? maybe they re-unite at a mutual friend's wedding?? and it brings up emotions about their almost wedding?? idk i just really love breaking up and making up as a trope and i really love your writing :))

thank you!! I'm very much up for doing another buckytony break up/make up, plus you deserve nice things for finishing law school - congrats on that!🎉��hope you like this one 😊

There's a ring on Bucky's finger.

It's the first thing Tony notices when he walks into the bar for Natasha and Sharon's joint bachelorette party. He stands there in the doorway, frozen and staring until someone clears their throat pointedly behind him, and he mumbles an apology as he moves out of the way.

He thinks about turning around and not coming back, just ditching the event entirely and maybe even the wedding tomorrow, but he tosses the ridiculous thought the second it comes. He promised Sharon when she asked him to be her man of honor that he could handle Bucky being Nat's. Living on the other side of the country afforded him to miss the rest of the events and planning along the way, and he could deal with one day of being cordial to his ex, even if the day comes with walking down an aisle together.

But now there's a ring on Bucky's finger.

The silver catches the light, and it's on prominent display with his left hand wrapped around a beer bottle. It shouldn't be possible for him to have moved on that quickly. Eight months shouldn't be long enough to bury three years of memories. Three years of hopes and dreams and plans for a future built together. Years of love so blindingly intense that it burrowed into Tony's soul to make a home and refused to be evicted just because it was supposed to be over.

Tony wonders what the timeline is. Did he find someone new while Tony was still just beginning to pick up his own scattered pieces? A first date for him while Tony was barely getting out of bed. When was it that he replaced Tony as the last person to have his heart? And how did he find forever in someone else so soon after losing the one he used to call his soulmate?

Natasha notices him first, still hovering near the entrance, and she raises a single eyebrow that calls him a coward. He rolls his eyes at the accusation, though it's accurate. She elbows Sharon to catch her attention, and before he knows it the entire small group is turning their heads his way, giving him no choice but to join them.

It's less bachelorette party and more pre-wedding celebration with the crowd they've gathered, all mutual friends of both brides with no regards for gender traditions that usually come with this night. Tony used to fit in well with them all, back when gatherings like this were just a typical Friday night. But he made himself an outsider between the move to California and the breakup with Bucky. All he has now with most of them is a dead group chat that hasn't been used in months. He wonders which one of them made the new one without him in it.

Sharon is the first to pull him into a hug, then Natasha follows suit. He gets a nod from Sam, a wave from Clint, and what might pass as a smile from Steve. Bucky stares so intensely that Tony can feel his eyes with his back turned, but when Tony looks his way, he pretends to be interested in the floor.

He had a plan before the ring threw him off. Step one should have been the entrance. Head held high, shoulders square, perfect outfit that shows everything off and compliments the Malibu tan he has now. Step two should be nonchalance. A light hearted greeting to everyone, accompanied by an easy grin and relaxed body language, and catching up with subtle brags slipped in. Show them all that he's doing better than he ever was, sitting on top of the world these days, even if most of the time it feels like he's barely above rock bottom.

Step three in his ideal scenario involved Bucky breaking down and begging to get him back. Some versions even had him on his knees for it, with tears running down his face. Others required it to be raining outside, and the cloudless sky ruined that before the ring on Bucky's finger did.

With steps one and three out the window, he tries to salvage step two.

“Hey,” Tony starts, a little too loud. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries again, “Hey, Bucky. It's good to see you.”

Bucky nods, a strained, jerky motion. “Yeah, you too. How, uh, how have you been?”

“Good. Really good, actually. Company just had its highest sales quarter yet, so it’s been a little crazy around there, but good.”

“Good,” Bucky repeats, and there’s a long awkward pause.

“And what about you?” Tony asks, and then because he can’t help himself, he adds, “I see you got engaged. Or, hell, I guess it could be married, even.”

Bucky freezes with parted lips and wide eyes for the briefest of moments, like he wasn’t expecting Tony to know about it or bring it up, and his eyes shift to the ring on his hand and stay there.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Engaged. Last week.”

Tony ignores the ache in his chest and plasters on a smile like he’s happy for him. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know him. Steve introduced us. They work together.”

“So he’s at the museum then? I thought you used to say that you hated all those stuffy guys and Steve was the only one worth knowing.”

Bucky smiles, a fond thing that widens the crack in Tony’s heart. “Yeah, well, I guess I was wrong. Felix is a great guy.”

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid name that probably matches a stupid, punchable face.

Some masochist thing pulls at him to make him keep digging for more information, a twisted need to know even as each word pushes the knife in deeper. He aims for casual, leaning back against one of the high top tables as he asks, “So how long have you been together?”

“Just a couple of months. Kind of fast, I know, but when you’re sure about something, it doesn’t really matter, right? Why waste time waiting?”

“Right, of course,” Tony says, a little flatter than he intends. “So why isn’t he here tonight? Hope it wasn’t to spare my feelings, because it’s really not necessary.”

Bucky falters, “It’s not? You, uh, you’re dating someone, then?”

Tony nods, and he wishes he had grabbed a drink before this so he could hide behind it as he lies through his teeth. “Only a few weeks, though. A little too early to be a wedding date, but I’m sure your guy will be there tomorrow right?”

“Oh, um, yeah, definitely. Why wouldn’t he be, right? There’s no reason I can think of,” Bucky says, stumbling around it. “But tell me more about your thing. Your person. How’s that going?”

Tony shrugs, and he finally pulls off that easy smile he’s been trying for. “Well, it’s not get engaged in a couple of months good, but it’s been really great. We’re taking it slow. Trying not to rush anything and just get to know each other first. I think it could really be something, though.”

“That’s good,” Bucky mumbles. “You deserve something good.”

He isn’t meeting Tony’s eyes anymore, almost like he’s upset that Tony moved on, and the vindictive part of Tony wants to be happy about it, but another part wants to be angry because it isn’t fair. It’s not fair to act like Tony should stay stuck in time, forever longing for him when he already moved on with someone else first. It’s hypocritical and selfish, even if Tony is lying about there being anyone else.

“Well, I’m gonna go get a drink,” Tony says, pushing down every feeling. “Should catch up with everyone else, too, while I’m at it. I’ll talk to you later.”

He heads over to the bar and isn’t surprised when Sharon joins him a moment later, right after he orders a double shot of whiskey. She puts an arm around his shoulder and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tony laughs, running a hand through his hair. “My ex is engaged to somebody else and apparently doing really fucking well. Meanwhile, I’m making up fake boyfriends that I’m taking it slow with, because last week I went on my first real date in eight months and cried in the bathroom in the middle of it. And then, at the end of the night, he literally told me to my face that he didn’t think a second date was a good idea. We weren’t even talking about it, Sharon. He said it unprompted when we were still ten minutes from his apartment, and I was driving.”

Sharon nods slowly as she processes the rant. “He told you he got engaged?”

“Yeah, thanks for not telling me, by the way. It was really fun to get blindsided by it.”

She ignores the complaint to ask, “What else did he tell you, exactly?”

“Oh, just the whole line about how you know when you know, and Felix is such a great guy, and all that bullshit.”

“Felix,” Sharon repeats.

Tony knocks back the rest of his drink and orders another. “Please tell me he’s not better looking than me. Tell me it’s a downgrade. Don’t lie, because I know I have to meet him tomorrow, but please give me something that will make this better.”

“Well, I can guarantee he’s not as attractive as you. But he’s a little too perfect, you know? Like how could this guy possibly be real, he’s so unbelievably perfect,” Sharon says.

“I told you to make me feel better, not worse.”

Sharon shakes her head with a smile, the arm around him tightening into an approximation of hug. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I don’t think they’re going to last. He’s kind of flaky, too. Always cancelling at the last minute and all that. Bet he won’t even show tomorrow.”

The amusement on her face that she’s failing to hide confuses him. He’s starting to feel bad, though, for making the night about him when it should be about her and Nat.

Resolving not to dwell on it anymore, he squeezes the hand on his shoulder and says, “Alright, enough sad drinking, and definitely enough about me. We’re celebrating you and Nat and a lifetime of sickeningly wonderful happiness for both of you.”

Sharon grins, “Hell yeah, we are.”

“Shots?”

“Is that even a question?”

_____________

He wakes up with a headache and hazy memories. Shots of tequila that turned into shots of vodka when Nat got involved, then Clint’s terrible suggestion to try a shot of every liquor they had to offer. He vaguely remembers the round of toasts and drunken impromptu speeches from everyone, locking eyes with Bucky and failing to look away on both their parts. There’s a blur of wandering hands and heated, messy kisses. A bathroom stall turned into a cab ride which turned into his hotel room. He knows what he’ll find next to him when he opens his eyes, and guilt comes in full force.

“I know you’re awake,” Bucky says, voice still rough with sleep. It used to be Tony’s favorite sound in the world. “And I know we’re both sorry about what happened, but pretending to be asleep isn’t fixing nothin’.”

Tony shifts over to his back, and if there was any question before about what happened between them, the all too familiar ache in his body would answer it. He stares up at the ceiling to avoid the acres of bare skin on display next to him.

“You should probably leave,” Tony says to the walls. “I’m sure your fiancé is wondering where you are.”

“I doubt it.”

Tony puts an arm over his eyes, partly to block out the light that makes them ache and partly to hide his face. “Just go, okay? It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again, and we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Was it a mistake?” Bucky asks. “It didn’t feel like one to me.”

He doesn’t answer, and it’s soft and broken when Bucky says his name. Too much for him to handle.

Tony pushes back the blankets and searches for Bucky’s clothes in the mess they’ve made. He finds the shirt first and throws it at him. “You’re engaged, which means it was a mistake.”

His boxers are on the back of the couch, jeans right in front of the door, and they join the pile on Bucky’s lap. “You promised the rest of your life to somebody else, and I’m pretty sure fidelity is supposed to go with that.”

He tosses a shoe in the general direction of the bed, and it hits the nightstand with a loud thud. The second shoe is still in his hand when Bucky gets up and walks over to him, taking it and letting it drop to the floor.

His eyes hold a level of intensity that Tony has spent months dreaming about, and Tony couldn’t look away or move from this spot even if he tried.

“Felix isn’t real,” Bucky says. “I made him up when you asked, because I didn’t want to tell you the truth that I haven’t moved on in the slightest. That I’m so pathetic that I’ve spent the last eight months wearing an engagement ring that I bought for a guy who doesn’t love me anymore because I don’t know how to let him go.”

Tony stops breathing. “What?”

Bucky slides the ring from his finger, holding it between them so Tony can see the inscription. Always yours. He can’t remember the last time he heard the words get spoken.

“When?” Tony asks hoarsely. “When did you get that and why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“About a year ago,” Bucky says, slipping it back on his own finger. He sits back on the edge of the bed and stares down at it, twisting it around. “I thought about doing it on your birthday, but Nat and Sharon had just gotten engaged the week before and I didn’t want to take anything away from them. You were working a lot of late nights after that, and I thought it would be better to wait until things slowed down. You were so tired all the time, and you deserved a better proposal than when you’re falling asleep in the middle of dinner. It never slowed down, though. And then you got that big promotion and somehow we fell apart instead. If I’m honest, I still don’t really know how. One minute I’m getting ready to come with you, and the next you’re telling me not to bother.”

Tony sits down next to him, shoulders touching, and he pulls Bucky’s left hand into his. “You didn’t really want to go.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky says, but Tony shakes his head.

“All you talked about was how much you would miss New York. How much you’d miss your friends and your family and your job. Every day, everywhere we went. Even the fucking hot dog stands got sonnets about them. It really didn’t take a genius to figure out that you weren’t exactly looking forward to leaving.”

“I still would have gone for you,” Bucky argues. “I told you I would go anywhere with you, if it was what you wanted.”

“And then what? You move with me, and you’re miserable all the time, because my job never slows down so I’m still not around as much as you want, except now it’s compounded because you’re in a city that you hate with no one else that you know. You resent me for making you go, and the outcome is the same in the end either way.”

“Or I move with you, and I finally ask you to marry me like I’ve wanted to since almost the day we met. I find new friends and a new job, and even if it’s not perfect, it’s still worth it because at the end of the day I have a husband coming home to me.”

Tony runs his thumb over the ring and murmurs, “I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t think I could do that for you anymore.”

Bucky cups his cheek, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but baby, you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks,” Tony laughs.

“You’re my idiot, if that helps.”

Tony smiles, still fragile but growing more hopeful. “Am I?”

“Always have been,” Bucky says. “Always will be if you stop assuming I’m going to leave you all the time. Let me decide for myself what I’m willing to sacrifice for us.”

Tony nods slowly, then says, “I’m sorry for ending it like that.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to.”

Tony climbs into his lap, circling his arms around his neck, and Bucky pulls him in closer with his hands on Tony’s hips. The ring is strange to feel against his skin, but also completely right. He wants it to stay there and to mean what it was always supposed to. Wants one of his own to match.

“We can fix it, right? We can be us again?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, and Tony’s heart sinks for just a moment. “Is your boyfriend as real as my fiancé?”

Tony laughs again in relief, “Yeah, they’d be a good pair.”

“I knew you had to be lying. You’ve never taken it slow in your life,” Bucky grins.

“Do you want me to start now?”

Bucky flips them over in one fluid motion, and he kisses up his throat as he murmurs, “Absolutely not.”

#my writing #my fic #winteriron #buckytony #winteriron fic #prompt fill #ad1thi

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slashedthroughtheheart · 4 years ago

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A night with the trapper

Hey hey, I’m cross posting on here from my Ao3 account! Hoping to build up a writing blog once again after The 2018 Incident happened and I lost my other one for overwatch.

This time, I’ve delved into the slasher fandom after picking up Dead by Daylight! This is just some good nice fun with Evan, focused on his pleasure! Enjoy!

He'd been so considerate of your needs when you approached him tentatively.

He'd just returned from a trial and was in the middle of cleaning the grime off of his hands and arms when you gingerly pulled on the side of his overalls, looking up at him with those big doe eyes he loved to see.

Barely above a whisper, the words left your lips in a rush. "Would you let me touch you?"

The words themselves weren't dirty, but the look you gave through those eyelashes of yours, a flush dusting your cheeks and the slight pout of your lower lip lent a lewd meaning behind the words.

He hadn't even taken his mask off yet, but the candlelight in his workshop was just enough to give you a glimpse of the smug grin that donned his features.

Turning back to washing himself, he let you stew in your emotions for a bit before his voice filled the room. "Lemme get this right, doll. You wanna touch me...intimately?" Despite the words being a question, it sounded more like a pleasantly cocky statement. The low hum of his voice made you shiver, his knowing and almost teasing tone had the blush spreading further on your face.

The slight turn of his head was what prompted a meek but determined nod. You'd wanted this for a long time, and even if it was embarrassing having to ask like this, you knew you wouldn't get a chance to act it out unless you did.

Any time you'd been with him, it was always him on top of you, all around you, baring down on you like he was a hunter and you were the prey he'd caught.

And while you'd been enjoying that, you couldn't deny you wanted more. Something different.

You'd been so scared of everything at first, the pain from being hooked and sacrificed in trials was maddening. You barely talked to the other survivors for the first week, completely thrown through a loop and reeling from the shift in your new normal.

They'd tried to reach out, to be comforting and welcoming, but you had resisted. The fear gripping your heart at all times very real and palpable.

What if the killers came to find you after the trial too? What if the time you weren't being forced to fix gens and run for your life were also plagued by the terrifying monsters that hunted you in the trials?

No soothing from any of the other survivors helped. They feared you'd break before too long had passed, having seen it before in the ones that stopped appearing after they broke fully.

It was the leader, Dwight, who had tried one last ditch effort.

While the killers didn't hang around with any survivors often, it wasn't unheard of for companionable time to be spent together outside of the trials. Some were easier to approach than others, like Bubba. He didn't do much talking, but he was always happy to see anyone and would listen to people talk for as long as they wanted.

So Dwight had gone to their leaders domain, skittishly asking if one of the killers could show the newbie some kindness outside of the trials so they'd stop spiraling out. So she wouldn't be taken like some of the others had been.

Evan had stoically listened as the survivors leader talked about that new girl who'd been so very afraid during every trial he'd seen her in. She'd fueled all the killers instincts very well, looking so picture perfect with the fear readable in her eyes. Such big eyes that always had tears just threatening to fall, or falling already.

It had probably led to a bit more brutality than usual.

He remembered you, shaking like a leaf looking like you were about to wet yourself. Your hand over your heart as you stood like a deer in the headlights when he caught sight of you.

Then you turned tail and ran, your panting had excited him. It had been a while since they'd gotten someone new to chase.

You'd managed to outfox him that trial though, your fear keeping you from most of the generators so he never caught sight of you a second time after he lost you when someone blinded him with a flashlight. The other survivors worked double time to make up for the teammate they lacked, and since he'd been so fixated on finding you again, he'd mostly left them alone unless they got just a bit too close.

He hadn't managed to hook anyone that match, having been too focused on finding that doe-eyed survivor again and hearing them scream.

So he fully understood that maybe the welcoming had been rather hard for you. "What's 'er name?"

The skittish leader seemed to let out a breath he'd been holding in, worried that the Trapper wouldn't entertain the idea of trying to calm the newbie down.

"Y/n. She's real spooked, by everything." The almost derisive laugh that came from Evan at that moment startled Dwight.

"If you're saying that, she must really be a fraidy cat then." The grin on his face was visible through the opening of his masks own garish smile.

Dwight had the smarts to not say anything more to that, but his head dipped down as his ears tinged pink with embarrassment.

"So... will you have someone come out and say hi to her? Let her know we aren't ever hurt outside of trials? She won't listen to us about it." He was rubbing at the back of his neck now, willing the blush he could feel under his fingers to go away.

Evan's arms crossed, seemingly contemplating his response before he gave a single nod. "'spose we can't have the little thing losing it. Sure, I'll come say hi to her. Might be best it's from me anyways, never have managed to catch her in trials. She's never even stepped in my traps either."

He had already started moving to leave his home, lumbering through the trees with Dwight having to jog to keep up with his pace.

"R-really? You've never caught her?" the tone was awed disbelief. He knew how many trials they all went through each day, she'd had to have faced the Trapper at least 4 or 5 times by now, and to have never even stepped in a trap was quite the feat.

A grunt preceded a small hum. "M'nope. She's a small one, slips right through everything. Not particularly fast, but she's real sneaky. You haven't noticed that?"

The rest of the walk from his realm and to the camp was filled with little questions from both of them about the girl. How many times had the Trapper caught sight of her in a trial? How did she spend her time around the fire? Did they know anything other than her name?

Upon arriving, Evan wasn't surprised that she nearly bolted upon seeing him, but Claudette and Feng had each been by her side and gently held her in place.

"He's not here to hurt us. They never are when they come here. We're safe outside the trials." Claudette's hushed voice reached his ears, and he gave a slow nod.

He stopped a good distance from them, knowing his sheer size would be intimidating on it's own, but him being one of the killers made it that much scarier for the poor girl.

"Hey there, little fox. I ain't here to hurtcha, promise. I heard from our good buddy Dwight here you were having a hard time adjusting to life in the entity's realm." He kept his arms down, trying to appear as non-threatening as a metal-bedecked behemoth like him could.

While he enjoyed the chase in trials, he understood that outside of trials it was a grave mistake to hurt the survivors. Every killer learned that the hard way through punishment, and the survivor or survivors hurt would be given a reprieve for a day or two from doing trials.

His gaze swept over the group, taking in their little camp they'd eked out in the forest.

"Y'all mind if I...?" he made a gesture towards the fire and one of the logs that had been dragged near it.

It was Ace who spoke up next. "Go for it, big guy." He was the one sitting on the other end after all.

He nodded to him, wandering over slowly to take a seat and lean forward, resting his arms against his knees. "It really ain't that bad outside the trials. Y'all stay around here until you're called next, and we stay in our realms until called." He wondered if anyone had bothered explaining that to her, as she sat there still held to her seat by the girls on either side.

The fear had lessened a little in her face, but not much. She didn't look like she'd fight to get up and run anymore at least.

"Does that make sense, little fox?" his head tilted ever so slightly as he looked at her from across the fire.

She looked unsure, fear still gripping her limbs, before a very slight nod that he would have missed if he blinked.

He sat back up a bit, no leaning as far forward. "Good. We all want to work so as to not displease the entity. And hurting y'all outside of the trial displeases the entity. So it's in our best interests too that we leave you unharmed."

This bit of information seemed to be the thing that had her relax the most, the white knuckle grip of her hands lessening as she blinked owlishly at him.

If he hadn't been listening intently and looking right at her, he might've missed her whispered "Really?"

He chuckled, leaning to one side, resting his weight on his good arm. "'course. The entity is all about rules. Do this, don't do that. And one of those rules is no harm outside of trials. You think being sacrificed to it hurts? Punishment for disobeying is much worse." He kept his tone light, easy going.

At the mention of punishment, he saw her shoulders tense again. "Now don't go worrying that pretty little head a yours. Only people who've ever been punished is us killers. Y'all can't really do anything to displease the entity, considerin' your position." Another light laugh left him as he settled in to chat the night away.

Over the course of the night, she'd slowly warmed up to those around her, and to the big man who eventually introduced himself as Evan to the group. It had been when Dwight had referred to him as the Trapper, and he waved a hand. "That ain't my name, at least not outta the trials. 'm Evan, nice to meetcha little fox." He'd smirked a bit, that long dormant charm from his past life peeking through.

After that night spent around the fire, more of the survivors sought out forging friendships with some of the killers outside of the trials. If they had to mutually please the entity, then maybe they could find some understanding with one another.

So that's how simply trying to assuage one new survivors fears led to basically all of the killers and survivors having a much more easy going time outside of the trials.

It had been quite some time since then, and that initial bond between Evan and you had been the strongest. While you had sought out others, namely Sally and Bubba since they were genuinely really sweet outside of the trials, you stuck by Evan the most.

And as time went on, feelings blossomed. You'd taken a shine to him and his slightly dated charm. He liked to use names he knew would fluster you, calling you doll and sweet cheeks and the one time he'd said sweetheart had truly been your undoing.

The silence after he'd said it had made him worry maybe he had taken his teasing too far, and that you'd turn away from him.

Imagine his surprise when the next thing out of your mouth was "Do you really think I'm pretty?"

He'd been stunned silent by it, causing you to go through your own mortification, your hands coming up to wave in front of you quickly, trying to literally brush away the question you'd ask while verbally stumbling over yourself "I-I-I...nevermind!!" the squeaky tone your voice had taken on pulled a hearty chuckle from him.

He rested his hand on your shoulder, dwarfing you in size and reminding you just how much bigger and stronger than you he was. He leaned down just a bit, looking right into your eyes, seeing just how flustered you'd gotten by the hue of your face.

"I think you're damn beautiful, y/n." He was hoping he'd read your body language right, and that that question had been because you were as interested in him as he had been with you.

The little face you'd made after that, your lips forming the tiniest 'oh' as he loomed over you. He read no fear in your posture, but even while closely observing you, he'd never thought that the timid little fox of a survivor would ever have the gumption to lean into him, resting their hand so gently against his chest while they gazed up at him.

That had been the turning point in their relationship, and he had barely been able to keep his hands off ever since.

Something in your face now reminded him of that first time. Reminded him that you really did want him.

He let the rag he'd been wiping himself off with drop into the basin, turning to face you fully.

"Mmmm, well little fox, what'd you have in mind then?" his grin had turned almost wicked as his now clean hands reached forward to graze the bare skin on your arms.

The little breath you'd been holding didn't go unnoticed by him. You must've been waiting a while to ask him, working up your courage.

Instead of speaking, you pulled on his hand you'd taken with yours, leading him towards his bed.

Amusement flooded him, enjoying the sight of you turning to pull at his overalls with a pleading look at him. "Take these off, please." Even when you were in charge, you were so adorable to him. The politeness of your request had him huffing out a soft laugh while he undid the clasps, letting it fall to the floor and kicked it off and away.

"How d'you want me, doll?" The lascivious smile had your skin heating up once again, but a pleasant thrum was going through your body now. Excitement that he was going along with what you wanted.

"S-sit on the edge of the bed. No, not like that, further out. Yea, now just.. hold on." You had him sit on the bed, and had him readjust until just his backside was on the bed and his legs spread just enough to help him keep balance and for you to fit between them while standing.

He was gazing at your face, hand coming up to remove his mask while he watched you shuffle around, disrobing quickly and then kneeling between his legs, hands gingerly resting on his knees.

A single brow quirked up. "This is what you've been wanting all this time, little fox?" He couldn't deny the sight of you licking your lips for a moment before leaning forward to place yourself fully between his legs didn't do something for him, but he was a bit surprised that this is what you'd been wanting.

You gave such a cute little nod, determination on your face. You didn't want to be denied this now that you were so close to getting what you wanted.

He hummed out, hand finding itself on the side of your face, cradling your whole head tenderly. "Well, I ain't gonna stop you, but just hold on a moment." He leaned back, reaching for something behind him before leaning forward again with one of the pillows in his hands. "Here, get up just a moment and use this. The floor ain't exactly soft. Don't want ya hurting yourself sweetheart."

You melted at his thoughtfulness and the use of one of the more tender pet names he liked to call you.

Obediently you stood so he could put the pillow down to cushion your knees, hands held together in front of you while you waited for him to lean back up again.

Once he was satisfied with it's placement, he sat up, spreading his knees wide enough for you to slip between them comfortably.

He enjoyed the sight of you gracefully kneeling so close, your hands on either thigh, looking up at him with adoration and anticipation. It wasn't something he ever thought he'd get to see.

"Look at you, little fox. You look ready to downright devour me." The lazy grin that followed had your own slight smirk appearing.

A giddy bit of delight lit you up when you noticed him hungrily staring while you licked your lips once more, hands sliding up his thigh to brush against his half hard member laying against his stomach.

The texture had you marveling at the silky smooth feel as you barely caressed it with your fingertips, a reverent look on your face as you now devoted all your attention to the rapidly hardening cock just in front of your face.

He gave a very low murmur of praise, barely breathing out a low rumble of "That feels nice, doll." as he fought the urge to let his head hang back. He wanted to watch you, see just what you had planned for him, how far you would go.

He stared, eyes fixated on your lips as you leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss at the underside of the tip, staying still for a moment, eyes closed in what appeared to be pure bliss to him. You caught him off guard when you slipped your tongue out to give a little kitten lick to the tip, sliding up to his slit and getting the barest hint of a taste of salt mixed with his musk.

The groan that slipped from him at that as his eyes clenched shut for half a moment before opening again and searching your face for any idea at what you were going to do next.

He was half worried you were just going to drag out this torturously slow pace since you had barely gripped him enough to bring the tip closer to your mouth.

His half-lidded gaze met your own as you planted another kiss directly to his head this time, a shuddering breath when you stuck your tongue out to lick a slow stripe from tip down the side to his base, leaving a small trail of wetness behind.

At least he didn't have to worry about teasing it seemed.

When you nuzzled against his balls his breath hitched, hands tightening in the blanket underneath him.

He was too enthralled to speak at this point, waiting for whatever you wanted to give him.

You gave each testicle their own little kiss, all while making hungry eye contact with him, hand slowly, languidly pumping his now pulsing member.

He gripped tighter when you licked a stripe back up to the tip, flicking it at the end and enjoying the rumbling almost growl that left him.

He lost the battle with keeping his head up and eyes open when you finally slipped the head of his cock past those perfect lips of yours, tongue swirling slowly around, getting it nice and wet before slowly pushing your head down, never breaking what would be eye contact once he pulled his head back up and opened his eyes.

He drew in a sharp breath as he felt you sinking him into your mouth, head almost spinning from the sensation after you had so expertly teased him before.

He snapped his eyes back open when he felt you keep going, taking more than half of his length already and showing no signs of stopping.

He leaned back up a bit, finally seeing the heated look you had on your face, your mouth almost painfully stretched on his girth.

You rewarded his gaze with a low moan, the vibrations making him almost lose his cool and buck his hips, but he just barely held back, the strain showing in every muscle of his suddenly flexing to keep him in place.

His left hand left the crumpled blanket, finding its way to the side of your face and gently pushing a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. He ghosted his hand over the side of your head, almost petting you as he watched you keep taking him in, inch by inch.

He almost closed his eyes again when he felt your throat flex momentarily as you swallowed around more than two thirds of his length. He just barely managed to keep watching, completely at your mercy and you pushed yourself those last few bits to nestle your nose against the short bush of pubic hair he had.

A low, throaty "Fuck, you're so good baby." left his mouth, hand now making full contact with the side of your face and partly into your hair, just holding your face, not pushing you down.

His whole body was trembling just a bit, the effort he was exerting so he didn't buck his hips and potentially hurt you was enormous. The choked sound that left him when you swallowed around his whole length this time was plenty reward for you, well worth the burning in your lungs and threaten of tears pricking at your eyes.

You slowly pulled back until just his tip was in your mouth, hand coming back up from where it had moved to his thigh to steady yourself, wrapping around the base and slowly pumping up to the tip and back down to the base.

The room filled with the sound of you working him with your mouth and hands, tongue always rolling up to work the underside of his cock, leaving him to let out low groans every once in a while while you felt him twitch in your mouth and hands.

He was enjoying the attention, basking in you touch and how focused you seemed on his pleasure.

During a particularly quick press of your mouth down his length, he lost a bit of control and pressed your head into his crotch, feeling your throat tighten instinctively around him had him grunting and hips flexing as he gave the shallowest of thrusts.

He had barely gritted out a "Sorry, sweetheart" before he registered the absolutely lewd moan you'd let out at his actions, mouth still full of his length.

He didn't know what he'd done to deserve you, but he was thanking every star he had, lucky or not.

A breathless "Y'like that, doll?" left him, sounding more confused than anything else.

He watched closely as you pulled up and off him, a bit breathless yourself as you nodded eagerly and almost whimpered out a "Yes, daddy."

He hadn't ever heard you call him that before, but the look you had on your face and the way you had sounded did wonders in spurring him on.

A lazy grin split his face, head tilting ever so slightly as his grip became very present on your head, guiding you back to the tip as he coaxed you to take him back into your mouth.

"Mmmmm, yea. Just like that little fox. Take it all in again, do it for daddy." It rolled off his tongue easier than he expected it to, feeling at home in the situation.

And the high pitched moan as you pressed your face right up against his pelvis with his entire length inside your mouth was definitely a worthwhile bonus.

He watched as you almost went cross-eyed with pleasure, feeling your tongue do what little it could while he was fully seated inside.

He tugged gently at your hair, bringing you back up for a breath before pushing your head back down, gently guiding you to fuck your mouth on his length.

Honestly, he couldn't believe that this was something you were getting off to, but he was happy to oblige you. Watching his thick cock pump in and out of your swollen lips while you looked like you were in heaven was quite the sight.

You hadn't even gagged once, or caught him with your teeth. It's almost like you'd been carefully practicing taking something as thick as he was, but he'd never caught you doing anything naughty on your own. You'd always come to him when you were feeling needy, and he'd happily pinned you under him, giving you the pounding of a lifetime every time.

Maybe this slower pace was what had you so over the moon. He'd have to try that out later, pay more attention to what had you crying out for him. After all, it was the least he could do after everything that was going on right now.

Even though it hadn't been very long since you'd started, barely 10 minutes, he was nearing his climax. There was just something about the plush heat of your mouth and the noises you were making and the sheer intimacy you two were sharing that was already pushing him to the edge.

"God, baby. Just like that. Mmmm, yea, you feel so good on daddy's cock. You're such a good girl, y'know that?" His heated gaze watched as you almost unraveled on his cock from his praise, delighting in the whines that left you as you desperately pressed more and more of him into your mouth, taking control of the pace once more, quickening it in your own excitement.

Another low groan left him, his legs flexing hard as he felt the last of his self restraint slip away, seeing stars behind his eyes as they squeezed shut, a growled out "Fuck yea, baby girl, just like that, right... right there, oh FUCK" as the first jerk of his cock and rope of cum filled your mouth and had you whimpering and greedily hollowing your cheeks around his tip, milking him for all he had.

He let out a prolonged moan as you kept sucking softly through his whole orgasm. His hips bucked once, twice, then he was pulled at your hair just slightly to get you to pop off his sensitive head, his breathing jagged as he barely managed to keep his eyes on you to savor the sight of you pulling off of him, face flushed from a mix of lack of air and desire, with his seed still staining your tongue before you closed your mouth for a moment, and he saw your throat move with the swallow.

"Fuck that's hot, y/n." His hand came down to cradle your face in his palm once more, thumb swiping over your cheek once before he leaned forward and down to press a soft kiss against the crown of your head.

When he pulled back to look at you, there was fondness in all his features, a genuine smile on his face for once. "I think I oughta return the favor, since you were such a good girl for daddy." And with that, his smile had turned devious, his hands moving from your face to under your arms and lifting you into his lap, pressing a hungry kiss against your mouth before trailing to your jaw as he laid back with you straddling his hips.

The cheeky grin you were met with when he lifted you easily, dragging you up his torso until you were sitting on his chest.

"Mmm... you know, you left a nice little wet trail all along me, babydoll. Did doing that to me get you that excited?"

You were too turned on to truly feel embarrassed by his words, merely rubbing yourself against the broad expanse of his chest, letting out a loud mewl at finally getting some friction on your sensitive clit after being left for so long without attention.

He let out his own moan at the feeling of your slick leaving a smear across his pecs, excited at just how wet you had gotten from servicing him.

"Well, looks like someone's having a good time." The mirth in his voice was lost on you as you moaned from the vibrations they sent out.

"You poor thing, here. Let daddy take care of you, little fox. I know just what you need." he shifted you one last time, his brute strength sending the butterflies alight in your stomach and he move your thigh to either side of his shoulders, sitting you right on his mouth as that devilishly sharp tongue went to work right away at your most intimate parts.

Now that he knew this was something the both of you liked, he'd be taking advantage of this information any chance he got. After all, you really were such a good girl for your daddy, you deserved to be rewarded~.

#Evan Macmillan x reader #Evan Macmillan #Dead by Daylight lemons #Dead by Daylight #nsft #lemon #My Writing

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tweetracer · 4 years ago

Note

Meeting the lost boys by knocking into one of their bikES 👀👌🏻

OP WHAT’S IT LIKE HAVING THE BIGGEST BRAIN IN THE WORLD (also this is my sECOND TIME WRITING THIS CAUSE MY COMPUTER CRASHED W/O SAVING SO SORRY IF IT’S GARBO)

LOST BOYS x S/O WHO RAN INTO THEIR BIKES

DAVID

Okay you already had one drink too many and fuck that was a cool looking bike. You were new to the area so people’s quiet comments of ‘that’s a bad idea’ went right over your head. You were just gonna look nobody can get pissed at you for looking.

Of course looking had turned to touching.

You ran your fingers across the smooth leather of the handles, admiring how well maintained it was despite clearly being frequently used.

“Can I help you?”

“FUCK HOLY SHI-“ you fell forwards at the voice that came from behind you, stumbling and watching as the bike fell in slow motion towards the ground.

You closed your eyes, wincing when you heard the SNAP! of the side view mirror as it landed, crumpled, beneath the vehicle.

The sound of a frustrated sigh made you turn slowly- and suddenly you felt a lot more sober as you looked up into the sharp blue eyes of a blonde man standing with his arms crossed and his gaze narrowed.

He looked ready to scream before you tossed your hands up- stumbling through your words as you offered to pay. You patted yourself down hurriedly desperate to find your wallet when it hit you.

Fuck you left it at your apartment.

Explaining the situation you offered to go get the money and bring it back to him, assuring you were good for your word.

“Forgive me sweetheart but I’m not exactly keen on trusting someone who just broke my mirror off”

You winced and nodded understandingly before inviting him to come along so he knew you wouldn’t bail and his eyebrows rose up.

He’d seen enough pornos to know exactly where this was headed ;)

Never opposed to a good time he agreed, following you in the short walk to your apartment with such confidence it was hard to tell who was leading who. He introduced himself as David as the two of you walked- actually starting a pretty good rapport despite the rocky introduction.

As you finally made your way to the front of your apartment David straightened himself, stomach curling with anticipation as he readied himself for the coy little song and dance before you got to really repay him for the damages.

Confident, he took a step forwards before- THUD

He ran face first into your door. Reeling for a moment before he realized that you just closed the fucking door on him what the-

Before David could voice his confusions and frustration it swung open again, and there you were- standing before him with wallet in hand as you paged through some bills.

He glowered, upset that he had misread the cues of the situation and gave you an incredibly low-balled estimate. Frowning as you handed the cash over you wished him a goodnight and shut the door again.

Grumbling, it wasn’t until he was headed towards the stairwell to leave that he heard the sound of the creaky wood opening up.

You poked your head out, flushed and grinning before asking if he was free for dinner tomorrow night with a smug smile.

You little tease

PAUL

This was a stupid idea. You knew this was a stupid idea- but you swore to god if your friends teased you one more time for skipping on this bet you were going to lose it.

It was simple. Sit on one one of Santa Carla’s resident bad boys’ bikes and live to tell the tale and they pay your rent for a month. Easy... peasy...

You glanced over your shoulder, already feeling sweat start to form on your brow as you watched your friends gathered around the railing of the boardwalk- giving you thumbs up and egging you on.

Taking a deep breath you snuck across the beach side- having checked one, two, three times that none of those wannabe-gangsters were coming before finally sidling up to the line.

You picked one at random, taking a moment as you tried to figure out how to get up and into the seat without jostling it. Finally, you managed to straddle the seat, you were surprised just how soft the cushion felt against your legs as you looked across the beach at your companions.

They were waving their hands and mouthing something frantically- you squinted, leaning forwards and trying to get a better idea of what they were trying to tell you.

“I think they’re tryna warn you about me, doll”

“FUCK!”

You scrambled to get off the bike, stumbling and falling face-first into the sand. With all the blood rushing to your ears you couldn’t hear the stranger’s laughter as the bike tipped over, the air getting pushed out of your lungs as it landed across your back.

The stranger, a tall blonde guy decked out in full leather and studs, was doubled over with laughter- grabbing his stomach as tears formed in the corners of his eyes as he watched you flail uselessly underneath the motorcycle.

“Dude you look like a squashed roach” he choked, managing to get a hold of himself- his laughter tapering off into tiny giggles, leaning his hands on his knees to look down at you with a wild grin.

Finally, he deigned to help, using one hand to lift the bike up like it weighed nothing. Once freed you groaned, back aching from where you would no doubt be sporting a gnarly bruise tomorrow.

Before you got the chance to get up you felt two strong arms wrap around you, lifting you into the air with a dramatic twirl- your hands flying to his shoulders on instinct.

The biker held you up for a moment “If you wanted a ride all you had to do was ask, gorgeous”

Red all the way to your ears you mumbled a small thank you as he gently set you on wobbly knees, keeping a wide-palmed hand on your hip to steady you.

“I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth but if you’d like to explain what you were doing straddling my bike I’m all ears.” he purred, hand giving you a flirtatious squeeze as you recounted the bet- nodding to your group of friends who were frozen like deer in the headlights.

The stranger, Paul, made a humming noise in the back of his throat as he thought over your excuse before leaning in close to your ear.

“Well we can’t let them win then, can we, doll?” and with that he let go to swing a long leg over his bike, offering you a calloused hand and a wink.

Okay... maybe this was a good bet after all.

DWAYNE

It was late, you were exhausted, and your feet ached from standing up all afternoon and evening at your closing shift of Stoker’s Diner. Still dressed in your uniform you stumbled, yawning as you picked your way across the boardwalk.

Your eyes kept drifting closed- the moments between when you were awake and practically sleepwalking getting longer and longer as you followed the familiar route.

When you opened your eyes and you were staring up at the distant white light of stars you realize oh shit when did I fall.

Then you realized the sharp stabbing pain in your leg, hissing as you curled up, abs tensing as you saw the heavy bike on top of your shin. “Fuckin’ shit” you growled, grabbing your thigh in an attempt to pull yourself free.

The sudden weight was lifted and you looked up at broad shoulders and dark hair that framed a handsome face. You must have died, because this face was that of an angel’s.

“Am I dead?” you asked groggily, sleep-addled brain making your tongue a little looser as the stranger smiled. He held out his hand to you politely, waiting with a raised brow.

Your hand felt tiny in his as he gently lifted you onto your legs only for you to teeter over precariously at the sharp pain in your knee. Glancing down you saw bloody torn skin and a purple bruise beginning to bloom across your shin.

The man’s shoulders tensed slightly at the sight of a droplet blood trailing its way down your leg. Exhausted, you let yourself be manhandled into the seat.

“Here” his voice was a low rumble that made even your tired mind spark up eagerly.

God he was hot.

The biker lifted you up like a sack of feathers, setting you in the seat of the bike so your legs dangled above the ground. The man kneeled down, reaching into his pocket and rifling around in it for a few seconds before pulling out a band aid.

You stuttered out a thank you, feeling you face heat up as he glanced up at you from beneath thick lashes- a pleasant smile gracing his herculean features.

“You should be careful.” he spoke, fastening the adhesive to it with a gentle pat. You coughed shyly, unable to make eye contact as you quietly explained that you had a long shift and you were opening tomorrow again while your fingers played with the hem of your shirt.

The stranger listened silently, eyes soft as he focused- occasionally nodding his understanding. His hand was still on the back of you calf- fingers cold and sending goosebumps all the way up your spine.

When you finally finished he stood, looming over you as he introduced himself as Dwayne before hesitating- thinking something over..

“If you want... I can drive you home... probably safer than sleepwalking off the boardwalk again”

MARKO

When you told that guy to back off from your friend you did not think it would end with you running at top speed through the crowds of the boardwalk. The guy’s yelling seemed to get closer and closer as you jumped over a table- switching directions suddenly in an attempt to throw him off.

Your eyes darted around as you searched for a way out- landing on the railing off the edge of the boardwalk that led to the beach side parking. If you played your cards right you might be able to hitch a ride or at the very least lose him by hiding.

With a fell swoop you tossed your legs over the edge, falling a few stomach-churning feet before you touched the ground, skinning your knees as you took off again. Your assailant cursed, running down the stairs and getting left further behind.

Looking over your shoulder to track his progress you didn’t see the motorcycle in front of you.

In fact

You didn’t see the line of motorcycles in front of you.

And you sure as hell didn’t see the blonde boy decked out in a leather jacket milling about.

It wasn’t until you laid, cheek pressed against his chest and bike flat beneath your shins that you even realized what your collision was with. Gloved hands gripped your hips tightly and the two of you stared, confused at each other before you heard the footsteps getting closer.

“Shit shit shit- CAN YOU DRIVE THIS THING?” you were already sitting up, straddling his hips for a moment before pulling him to his feet.

He only stared, lips slightly parted and brown eyes wide before he nodded numbly- gaze unable to leave your face as you turned to see your attacker get close.

“HURRY-”

That seemed to kick him into gear as he glanced over your shoulder at the drunken surfer gaining ground towards the two of you. In a fluid motion he lifted the bike up and turned it on, the revving engine drowning out the chaos around you.

Without waiting for an invite you hopped on, gripping tight to his jacket as he peeled away from the line of the other bikes and taking off at a breakneck speed.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the wind whipped your hair around you- heart still pounding in your chest from adrenaline as you pressed your face into the stranger’s back with a sigh of blessed relief.

Long after the danger was far behind the two of you were still speeding along- running others out of your path and sidling closer towards the shore.

Your eyes closed and you relaxed a little bit, hands loosening their grip where it had been balled up in his jacket. His shoulders tensed and he leaned forwards, the motorcycle suddenly speeding up so fast there were tears in your eyes.

With an excited laugh that was whipped away by the wind you flung your arms around his chest, squeezing tight- his pleased smile and small blush invisible to you as he veered a sharp turn to make you hold onto him closer.

After what could’ve been hours or minutes of heart pounding excitement, the blonde boy finally slowed- eventually stopping the bike and parking it far away from the loud boardwalk.

His hair was a mess and the apples of his cheeks were pink with adrenaline and you got a good look at his face properly this time.

Oh he was cute.

He smiled, looking almost bashful

“I’m Marko, and uh- I had fun being your getaway driver.”

#the lost boys #the lost boys movie #the lost boys 1987 #lost boys 1987 #lost boys #lost boys imagines #character imagines #lost boys x reader #meet cute #lost boys dwayne #lost boys paul #lost boys david #lost boys marko #reader slash #character slash #x reader #Anonymous

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angelicmichael · 4 years ago

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Pretty Please

Jim Mason x reader

Summary: Jim and Reader decide to throw a christmas party but get distracted while trying to do so. Christmas fic!!

Words: 2.5k+

Warnings: Hella sexual tension, no smut but almost smut?? Very sexually suggestive hehe, fluff with no plot basically, SO much fluff its gross

A/N: based off this prompt I found in a christmas prompt list 'Making out under the christmas tree because the lights reflecting in their eyes just looked too ethereal for them not to kiss them until they lost their breath' sorry I cant find the specific prompt list this came from. Jim and Reader are both 18+, and this is kinda canon rewrite?? Basically as if the ending in ttopv didnt happen and Jim actually lived.. and got a gf haha. ALSO loosely based on the song 'pretty please' by Dua Lipa. Enjoy 💖 read the tags for more thots

You felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you once you entered the apartment.

The minimalistic decorations that once adorned the small apartment you and Jim owned were now paired and even doubled with new, shiny, Christmas decor. The last thing you were expecting to come home too was christmas decorations, to be completely honest. You knew the decorations were new because prior moving in together- you two had nothing.. christmas decoration wise anyway.

Saying that Jims childhood and even high school years were rough was definetly a understatement; you were thankful you didnt have to see him in that state and that you met him after that time.

You only met his parents once; well his mom anyway and almost immeadietly you knew why it took him so long for him to introduce you to her.

She was a fucking nightmare.

She told you immeadietly about Jim's dark past, probably in a lazy attempt to scare you off. She told you about Jim's father, the drugs, and even the drug overdose that nearly killed him. That didn't scare you off - but what it did do was break the final fucking straw for Jim who happened to overhear everything she said.

He hadn't talked to his mom since.

Medina frequently came over, she was practically your best friend and stayed incredibly close with Jim. In fact, you were supposed to see her in roughly a hour... along with a handful of other Jim and yours close friends.

With Christmas being so soon you and Jim decided to have a spontaneous christmas party. The idea was to decorate together but.. apparently Jim had other plans.

There was a wreath on the front door for one, and multi colored lights and Garland that were kept nearly on every surface of the house. Smaller christmas related knickknacks were placed too on the dining and coffee tables. It looked beautiful. You couldnt believe Jim would do this all for you, you meant to help but work unfortunately ran short so you had to cover a coworkers shift.

The entire living room was kept pretty dark and dim, only candles and the soft lighting from the christmas tree lights allowed you to see at all- but it was still enough. It was romantic if anything.

Jim didnt say anything as he came out to the living room to greet you. He stayed silent, watching you and your reaction as you spun around - trying to admire the apartment from every angle possible.

As you continued to keep walking in the apartment and admiring Jim's work, you couldn't help but dumbly giggle.

"Jim; dont get me wrong, I love the apartment but why didnt you just wait for me"? You marveled.

He smiled shyly, a light blush coating his cheeks.

"I wanted to spend as much time with you that I could when you got back before people started to show up for the party". He admitted, sounding slightly bashful and shy as he spoke.

He approached you, and you couldnt help but to feel butterflies at the closer he got. You dont know why you were suddenly starting to feel nervous at doing a act so simple; like kissing your boyfriend. Perhaps it was because normally when you two kissed or showed affection it was done so quickly and without second thought; it wasnt 'special'. You weren't blaming Jim for that either, you knew that was typical in long term relationships. However - tonight he was actually taking the time to be with you. It was beyond romantic.

He looked delicious. His hair wasnt messy but it wasnt kept up enough to look like he brushed it recently, yet it still managed to look so soft. You were yearning to run your fingers through it.

Once you were within arms reach, he quickly enveloped you in a hug. Forcing you to inhale his scent while you quickly buried your nose in his jacket, trying to take him all in.

He smelt like a hint of weed, but mostly like the ocean. You suspected he must've went surfing a while ago.

Even though the apartment was decorated for christmas and it was currently Winter; the air was still warm, maybe even a little muggy. The sun had finally decided to set, just sinking below the far off treeline - making the sky in a state of in between. Not dark but not quite light out either.

In the part of California you and Jim lived in, it only dropped about 10 degrees in the winter. You wore a warm cardigan since you came just home from outside; along with a pair of jeans and cozy boots that seemed to be your go to outfit in the winter.

Jim on the other hand wore a tight fitted dark navy shirt under his typical Jean jacket which you gently clutched onto.

"I missed you. I hate when you have to work during the holidays". You heard him softly grumble, which made you giggle.

You slowly moved, you backed your head up just enough so that your faces were now right next to each other. You bumped noses - you considered kissing him for a split second but you chose not too. Instead ghosting your lips over his; and gently resting your forehead together.

"Why? It's not like today is a holiday or anything". You asked, a playful tone apparent in your voice.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt Jim's lips inch closer, you could nearly taste his breath. Minty mostly, and warm on your lips.

You suddenly were itching to kiss him, unconsciously moving forward to ease the growing tension between the two of you. You jumped a bit when you felt a hand start to rub your back, quickly relaxing when you realized it was just Jim being handsy. You heard Jim's voice, even though you were incredibly close to him, it was so soft you could still barely hear it. A quiet, sultry whisper.

"It doesnt matter if it's a holiday or not". Jim started, he backed up a bit.

Just enough to make eye contact with you, now gently cradeling your face in his hands.

"This is the first Christmas season I've had where I'm not in between my parents trying to break up a fight. I'm so thankful I get to spend it with you, I just wish I had met you sooner". Jim said, with a shy blush starting to dust his tan cheeks again.

By the time he finished talking you were beaming. Pure happiness and joy was coursing through your veins as you stepped forward and fully enveloped yourself in him, your hands grasped his shoulders to steady yourself while your lips feverishly and slowly met his.

Jim's hands quickly adjusted, moving from your face down to your waist. His fingers gripped your skin tightly; the slight pain made you moan. It didnt really hurt persay but you knew your skin would be purple and sore tommorow. However, in this moment you didnt really care about how your skin would look - you just wanted him.

Jim kissed you menacingly slow; his lips working against yours so slowly in a deliberate attempt to make you frustrated and it was working. Your fingers flexed into his shoulders as you let out a throaty moan. You broke the kiss and let out a hiss,

"Stop fucking teasing". You spoke, titling your head slightly and arching your neck out - trying to hint to Jim that you wanted him to start kissing down your neck.

However; that's not what he fucking did.

Instead of feeling Jim's soft warm lips on your neck, you felt his wet tongue lick a fast stripe down your neck - most likely tracing a vein. You yelped and jumped, only realizing after how stupid you probably looked for getting startled. Jim was laughing too, fucker.

"What the fuck, Jim"?! You asked, laughter mixing in with your voice.

Jim giggled before quickly leaning in and stealing another slow kiss from you before mumbling against your lips;

"As much as I would love to sit here and make out with you all day.. we have business to attend too".

He pulled back suddenly, his lips up turning in a smile as if he knew what exactly he was doing.

"Business"? You mused.

"Yes. We have company coming over in 30 minutes, love" Jim reminded you.

You rolled your eyes, completely unamused.

"Do they have to come"? You whined.

"Yes. They do. Now c'mon make yourself useful". Jim said.

He turned around, grabbing a box that sat idly in the living room which you didnt notice previously. Opening it, he pulled out a ornament. You dumbly smiled, knowing exactly what this meant. He approached you, ornament in hand with a corny smile on his face.

"I decorated everything but the tree. I wanted to save something for us to decorate together". Jim stated.

"Your such a sap". You said fully laughing.

You grabbed one of the ornaments out of the box and walking up to the tree. You felt dumb for not noticing how bare the tree was before. No ornaments, no lights, no tinsel.. nothing. Well, nothing execpt for the one shiny ornament that you had just hung on one of the branches right center in the tree.

The one ornament on the tree quickly doubled, and then tripled until the tree was fully adorned with ornaments. You and Jim (mostly Jim) hung a string of lights around the tree. Making the already ambience scene in your living room even more cozy and romantic.

"This was a good idea, babe". You said, quickly kissing him.

You quickly checked the time, there was still 20 minutes before anyone was supposed to show up.. An idea popped up in your mind.

A wonderful, awful idea.

You were already standing comfortably close to Jim; you turned casually around and place your hand square on his chest.

"Its too bad we finished decorating so early, hmm"? You purred.

You didnt dare take a step forward; you knew Jim would make the next move and sure enough he did. He took steps closer to you.

You cheeks were slightly rosy, with the slight embarrassment you felt from suddenly taking the reigns and being in control. Needless to say this wasnt something you were really used too.

"We still have the tinsel to put up, you know". Jim chuckled lightly.

You looked down for a split second and looked back up into his circealean blue eyes, batting your eyes at him.

"Or.. you know, theres something else I can think of we can do that's less boring". You said.

You let your hand slip and travel from his chest up to his shoulder, feeling the muscle that lie underneath your hands as you took your other free hand up to his other shoulder. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard Jim groan.

It's not like you two have never been intimate before; that was far from the issue. Even though you knew Jim for fucking ever and you two have had sex countless of times - he still managed to give you butterflies.

That's how you knew he was the one for you. Even after all this time he still seemed to make you nervous and blush.

"Is that what you think"? You heard Jim say. His voice lowered in a husky manner.

You felt his arms quickly grab you as he gently pushed you onto the ground. He pinned you on your back; his hands on your shoulders as he softly panted above you. His face hovered right above yours - and his legs on your thighs. Not that you were complaining but you certainly couldnt leave or escape even if you desired too.

You merely giggled beneath him at this realization, not really wanting to switch from this position at all.

It sounded incredibly corny but you honestly wouldnt be surprised if you had took a brief visit to heaven. You felt pure, unfiltered ecstasy as you looked into Jims eyes.

The aroma from the pine tree that was directly above you and Jim filled your senses; the smell along with the candles set the atmosphere perfectly. Ornaments hung directly above you two, the rainbow lights from the tree reflecting in Jim's light blue eyes.

Because of the nature of how light Jim's eyes were, typically seeing reflections of other objects or anything really in them was close to impossible... but, maybe it was the already dark lighting in the room or a bit of christmas magic that made seeing the lights in Jim's eyes possible.

It made the already beautiful man look nothing but ethereal. You were left speechless as you could do nothing but stare, and get lost in his eyes.

You couldnt help but feel how lucky you were to even be in this situation, how lucky you were to be loved by him.

You could do nothing execpt for smile cheesily and blush at your new realization. Instead of craning your neck awkwardly to reach his lips, you chose to be smart and innovative instead, by taking one of your hands and pushing his head into yours - gently of course.

His lips met yours and you nearly moaned from the anticipation. You kissed him slowly, relishing in the feeling of being on the floor with non other than Jim Mason. You knew for a fact you would never do this with anyone else, nor did you even want to spend the time thinking about doing so.

His lips were warm and soft - not chapped in the slightest. They danced perfectly with yours; making separating for air almost a painful and undesired act.

When you separated, Jim still didnt let up off of you. He remained on top, breathless. His lips were swollen and pink, and were his cheeks. His eyes still looked beautiful, but even more so now that his pupils were dilated.

You heard him let out a soft, shallow growl. Bending down swiftly, almost animalistically, to the side of your mouth to give you a quick kiss. His lips ghosted and drifted down over your jaw; until you felt them meet your neck in gentle soft kisses.

Your mouth fell open, your fingers gripping the soft tree skirt below you that was riddled with tree nettles.

"Jim, wait". You spoke, barely even able to get the words out of your mouth without moaning.

You saw his head immeadietly snap up, those gorgeous blue eyes meeting yours again.

"Arent we having company over in like.. 10 minuets"? You asked, laughing.

You noticed Jim let out a brief chuckle as well before replying.

"Ugh, your right but if only I could bring myself to get off of you, baby". He spoke, gently attacking your neck in slightly more aggressive kisses than what you were typically used too. Although, you certainly weren't complaining.

You felt Jim slightly push his hips into yours, you automatically opened your legs - wrapping them around his waist and lower half. He gently started to grind into you; and there was no point in even trying to bite down or mask your moans at this point. All you felt was pure, unfiltered love for the man who was on top of you.

"I love you, Jim".

Taglist: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon

#i hope yall like this #im about to post to ao3 #also let me know if you wanna be on the taglist #but this fic is rlly unlike the rest of my fics and i hope u still like it hehe #its not rlly plot heavy and i feel like the grammer is kinda rough but.. i just wanted to post something happy and full of fluff haha #ALSO theres a very very slim reference to The Grinch in this.. try to find it haha #also i was very high when i wrote like 2/3rds of this?! so guess which paragraphs dhdhd #i will be back to add a read more line #jim mason x reader #jim x reader #fanfiction #my fics #my work #ttopv #jim mason

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brynfelan · 4 years ago

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The One Where Hajime Only Knows Class 77b Because He Works At A 24-Hour Grocery Store

it’s DONE, it’s BAD, it has all the pacing of a POORLY-WRITTEN SNL SKETCH, but I can’t give less of a shit I am tired and putting it out into the world. @idnek83 I told you I’d fucking write it. It’s 5am and this was written purely out of spite. also, the credit for this idea goes to them. the only reason i wrote this is because they were too much of a coward to.

Word Count: 3272 Summary: Hajime Hinata works at a 24-hour grocery store and only knows class 77-B because they all come in at different times to buy some weird shit. Chaos ensues. This is crack, just straight up crack.

There are worse things than working the graveyard shift. It pays a little extra than day hours, there’s less work to do at the counter, and the only thing Hajime really has to worry about is a drunk customer getting rowdy. Actually, he enjoys it in a weird way. He just stands at the counter, runs people up, and then leaves at six in the morning to do whatever the hell he wants with his day. Usually sleeping, but it’s also nice to be free all the time.

His favourite part of the job is the set of students that come in between the hours of two and five almost every day. They aren’t usually together, but he’s pieced together that they’re all in the same class by descriptions that he’s gotten from the more talkative of the bunch. He doesn’t know all of their names, some of them he only knows by nicknames, but he does know all of their faces.

Kazuichi Soda for example, comes in at around two in the morning every Friday night. He usually buys shitty beer or cheap liquor, and complains that he’s the one that got sent out from the party to get more booze. Sometimes he also picks up random assortments of tools or screws. Hajime thinks it should probably be illegal to sell a man a 40 of cheap whiskey and a power drill at two in the morning, but he learnt to stop questioning the combination of things that people buy at this kind of hour. He dreads to think of the drunk creations that Soda makes.

On the other hand, Mahiru only comes in around once a month. Hajime knows her name is Mahiru because the first time, she drunkenly introduced herself to him and tried to explain that her combination of items were for a photoshoot and not for any kind of nefarious purpose. He isn’t quite sure what kind of crime she could commit with several bunches of half-dead flowers, a whole cream cake and a bottle of champagne, but he’d definitely like to see it.

It’s four in the morning on a Tuesday. Hajime gets off in two hours, and he’s currently dealing with one Gundham Tanaka. He knows his name is Gundham Tanaka, because he announces it every single time that he gets rung up.

“Huh. Sunflower seeds and hamster bedding. You got any pets?” It’s an innocent question, but at this point he really should have learnt not to question Gundham.

“You fool! I, Gundham Tanaka, have my four Dark Devas of Destruction at my command, ready to strike at any moment for insinuating that they are mere pets as you mere mortals call them!” Ah, good. This happens every time. “You may also notice that I am purchasing this protective potion. This is a defensive measure to protect myself from the very devils that seek to feast on my demon blood!

Hajime looks down at the mosquito spray. He’s definitely not getting paid enough for this.

“Right, yeah. Sorry man. I hope those, uh, devils don’t bother ya too much. That’ll be twenty-two fifty-nine.”

Four hamsters poke out from Gundham’s scarf to deliver the money to Hajime. He isn’t sure if that’s sanitary, but at least he gets to see some cute animals during his shift. For “warriors”, as Gundham calls them, they’re pretty sweet and don’t seem to be adverse to getting pet when they hand (mouth?) him the bills.

Even if it gives him daytime freedom, this job isn’t worth ten seventy-two an hour. He sometimes thinks about switching to the day shift, but he gets paid more to work nights and effectively does half the work. Hajime knows that it’s the best job he’s gonna get for a while, and it pays enough to get him through college. Still, he reminds himself to check for something better when his shift’s over.

Gundham is the last of the class he sees that night. He’s definitely eccentric, maybe the most eccentric of the bunch, but he’s never caused a real scene. Except for one time when he managed to smash three bottles of red wine in quick succession, but it happens. Hajime didn’t have to clean it up, so he’s definitely not paid enough to care.

The next night, it’s Sonia that walks in. She’s never formally introduced herself to him, but Soda never shuts up about her, so Hajime has a pretty good idea of who she is. She’s buying nearly his month’s rent in skincare products and murder mystery novels. She talks the whole time too, about how this store is so different to ones in her home country, how he must get so many interesting experiences working at these hours.

“Yeah, you sure could call it interesting,” He snorts a little, “You get some interesting people come in at these hours.”

“Ah, of course! You are a respectable man to hold a necessary job such as this, I believe I would be, as they say, boned without you here! Is it customary to tip workers in institutions such as this?”

Jesus, how much money does this girl have?

“Uh, not grocery store workers ma’am. Cash or card?”

When she pulls out the cash from her purse, Hajime nearly faints. He decides that she must either be a foreign dignitary or deep in some criminal ring in order to have this much money on her person at any one time. It’s not even in exact change, and she’s a hundred over her total.

“This is too much, ma’am. Here, this is yours.”

When he tries to give the hundred back to her, she steps away from the register and puts her hands behind her back. She’s smiling, and shaking her head.

“Oh, no. I shan’t be taking that! You must keep it.”

She’s either an angel, or Satan trying to tempt him with nearly double what he makes in a night. Arguing with her is pointless, she refuses to take her items until he pockets the cash. He hopes that he never has to explain that to his manager, because he hasn’t read the company policy but he’s nearly a hundred percept sure that accepting personal money is very much against it. She finally leaves nearly half an hour later, after insisting he keep the money. He can’t tell if he hopes she comes back, or that he never sees her again.

He ends up keeping the hundred. That’s way too much money to be given to pass up.

If Hajime had to name a favourite customer out of the students, it would have to be the girl that comes in a couple of nights a week to buy snacks. He doesn’t know her name, but she always talks about video games. They share the same taste in them, and he likes hearing about his favourites from another person’s perspective. He doesn’t really have anybody to play them with, but it almost feels like he does when she comes in and asks how far he’s gotten in whatever just came out that week. He thinks about her during his shift sometimes when things get slow.

That same night, a boy with all the manners of a particularly pissed off cat comes in. He’s with a girl that towers over him, and Hajime would laugh if he wasn’t afraid of getting his ass handed to him, since he’s pretty sure the girl is carrying a sword. He’s buying twelve packs of cookies, and a single toy bunny. He pays with a black credit card. Neither of them say anything to Hajime. He’s pretty sure that’s the “Baby Gangsta” that Soda has spoken about on a couple of occasions, but definitely doesn’t want to ask just in case he gets sliced in half. He only notices that he was holding his breath when they leave.

An absolutely giant man walks in just as Hajime is about to clock out. No really, he’s huge and all muscle. Hajime might be scared of him, if he didn’t have such a huge smile on his face. He occasionally comes in early in the morning to buy a hideous amount of protein powder and other groceries. Every time he does, he invites Hajime to “train” with him. Hajime is too scared to ask what training involves, and turns it down every time. By the size of the guy, he’s pretty sure any amount of training would kill him.

Hajime doesn’t know when he clocks in the next night that it’s going to be the most hellish night of his life. He doesn’t know that tonight is the night he hands in his two weeks yet. He’s pretty optimistic when he walks in, freshly showered and having just gotten back a pretty decent grade for one of his classes.

It starts at five. Kazuichi Soda walks in first, already drunk and talking to Baby Gangsta about some motorbike he’s going to jack up so much it won’t be road legal anymore. The Giant Man is close behind, talking to a girl about doing “it” (Hajime has no idea what “it” is and frankly he isn’t sure he wants to know). That’s the first sign. No more than three of them have ever walked in together at any one time.

Lagging behind a little is Gundham and Sonia, followed by Mahiru and the tiny girl that sometimes accompanies her. The only thing Hajime can remember about her is that she called some other girl a “toilet clogging bitch” one time. Three other men follow behind, one with light hair that looks just a little too skinny to be healthy, one that looks nearly exactly the same as him except taller and heavier, and one that’s even shorter than Baby Gansta. A girl with her eyes glued to a Game Girl trails behind them, the Sword Girl almost steering her out of the way of a promotional stand for donuts. Behind them is Ibuki Mioda, a girl that comes in sometimes to buy Monster Energy by the crate at three in the morning, talking to Mikan Tsumiki who usually accompanies her to run of the health risks of drinking too much caffeine.

Behind all of them is the devil himself, dressed up like an angel. Hajime doesn’t know he’s the devil yet, but he will in about an hour.

They’re in the store for all of ten minutes before shit starts going south. Hajime can hear things being tossed around in the aisles and shouting. He definitely isn’t paid enough to deal with that, so he stands at his register and hopes it calms down.

“C’mon, we just finished our finals, Ibuki wants to go hard!”

That’s never a good thing to hear when you still have two hours of your shift left.

Now, part of the reason why Hajime likes working the graveyard shift is that it’s quiet. Nothing happens, except for the one time a guy in a Scream mask came in and robbed his register at axe-point, but he’d already been working at the store for two weeks and couldn’t give less of a crap whether or not the company lost money over that. Tonight, it isn’t quiet. Tonight, there are sixteen students that Hajime thinks might give him a migraine if they don’t shut up for five minutes.

The worst part is when they disperse through the store. Before, all the noise was coming from one place. Now it’s everywhere. Hajime thinks that some of them are having a competition to see who can make all the toys that make sounds go off in the quickest amount of time. He can hear shouting and squealing and laughing (and is that crying? Is one of them crying in his store?) and he wonders if it would be worth it to just walk out and let them take whatever they want.

It doesn’t end there. There’s a loud smashing sound, and then the high-pitched whine of the girl who looks too young to be buying booze but Hajime has never cared enough to card because it’s not his job to parent her.

“You snot-nosed bitch! I bet you’re trying to make Hope’s Peak look bad, you drunk whore!”

“I’m s-sorry! I didn’t mean to!” The crying gets worse the more the short one yells, “I-I’ll clean it up and pay for it, don’t worry! Please forgive me!”

Hope’s Peak is that exclusive private place down the street, right? Hajime passes it everyday, but couldn’t have ever dreamed of getting to study there. He isn’t even really sure what they teach, besides that they always push out the greatest in whatever field of study they run. No, Hajime chose the cheaper option, and while it might have been nice to go somewhere so prestigious, it definitely wouldn’t have been good for his wallet.

From the other side of the store, he hears clapping and laughing. He doesn’t even want to think about what fresh hell is going on in the DIY section, where he’s pretty sure he can hear Soda spilling paint everywhere if the swearing from Baby Gangsta is anything to go buy.

Half an hour or so after they all walked in, Hajime is ringing up fifteen people. He’s the only one working tonight until the cleaners come in, and this is more people than he’s ever had to deal with in his life.

Sonia has bought sixteen bottles of the most expensive champagne the store sells. Hajime doesn’t want to think about the ordeal he went though last time she was here, so when she pushes an extra hundred into his hand he doesn’t bother arguing with her. Gundham, on the other hand, has apparently bought up every single vegan burger that was in the freezer section. He’s also got all the buns, and what feels like a hundred different condiments and salad options. Through tears, Mikan apologises for the trouble she’s causing while trying to pay for whatever bottle she broke – while at the same time picking up enough hangover medicine to cure an army.

By the time he’s rung everybody up, he’s exhausted. He wants to go to bed and never get out of it, to never see anybody again. He hates customers at the best of times, and these people might be excellent outside of this setting, but in his store they’ve been an absolute nightmare.

They’re all packed up and ready to go when the girl with her nose in the video game pipes up.

“Hey, where’s Nagito?” She asks through a yawn.

Then, it happens. Hajime hears a “whoops” from the back end of the store, and everything he’s ever wanted to not happen on his shift happens.

One shelving unit goes down, then another, then another. The sounds of shattering and splintering echo through the now otherwise silent store. They go down like dominos, each falling shelf worse than the last. It’s five fifty-seven in the morning, and Hajime can only watch as his divine punishment for choosing to work in a grocery store near a college is shown to him. Bottles are smashing, toys are crushed, he’s pretty sure that whatever happens in the fish section is no longer safe to look at with the naked human eye.

“I’ve never thought about committing murder before,” He says, “But now I think I understand.”

Everybody is quiet until the dust settles. The white-haired demon walks out completely unscathed, with an innocently shit-eating grin on his face.

“Ah, I can pay for this. I’m so sorry to have caused such trouble,” He says, waving his hands like it’s no big deal, “Please, allow me to pay for the damages. My terrible luck is a scourge on this Earth, I simply can’t apologise enough.”

Hajime sighs, and looks at the clock. It’s five fifty-nine. There isn’t an enough money in the world to pay him to deal with this.

“What the fuck happened?” Baby Gangsta asks, from the back of the crowd, “Seriously, you’ve had some bad fuckin’ luck before, but this shit takes the crappy cake.”

“Oh. I tripped.” He dusts his knees off, and smiles again.

It’s unnerving that he’s so calm about this. Hajime dreads to think what else he’s done in the past that would make this seem so natural to him. Can you bar somebody from your store for accidentally wrecking every single item that you have to sell?

“There is some hope to come from this, Kuzuryu, don’t worry!” He pulls out a tiny stuffed dog from his pocket, “Please, how much will this be?”

All Hajime can do is stare. He isn’t sure what god he pissed off to deserve this. He doesn’t believe in karma, but he hopes that whatever he gets in return for this is pretty damn good.

Six in the morning rolls around. The day-staff have walked in to the mess that is the store, and his manager is just staring at him. Hajime looks at him, and just shakes his head.

“If you want the story, talk to the guy with the white hair. I don’t even know what’s happening anymore.”

Immediately after he says that, he hears a whoosh. Then, everything starts feeling a whole lot warmer.

“Shit, store’s on fire. Komaeda, you’re going to get us banned from this store!” Kazuichi yells, running as fast as he can to the exit.

The others follow, and Hajime gives his manager a “what-can-ya-do” shrug, before following. This store isn’t worth getting a lungful of smoke over. Hell, he isn’t even sure working here is worth the extra cash that Sonia seems adamant to give him every time she comes in.

Sixteen students, Hajime, four other co-workers, two cleaners, and a General Manager stare as the building burns. Before his manager can open his mouth to speak, Hajime looks at him and says, “Nope. I quit. I’m leaving. Now. This isn’t my fault, and you can’t pay me enough to deal with it.”

There’s no argument. His manager just lets him go. The sixteen students get a lifetime ban. Hajime also gets a lifetime ban. The white-haired devil writes a check and walks away basically scot-free. The store is going to be closed for the next fuck-knows how long until it can get repaired. From the number of zeroes on that check, Hajime’s pretty sure this is an expensive problem to fix. He doesn’t care, it isn’t his problem.

“Hey, Mr-Store-Clerk Guy!” Ibuki grins at him, “Wanna come and party with Hope’s Peak? We just got done with finals!”

“Ibuki, that’s a fantastic idea! To repay our debt to him for causing so much trouble, we simply must invite him to part-ay with us!” Sonia claps her hands together and smiles like Ibuki’s just discovered Atlantis, “Please do come with us! But first, might we get your name? We all see you so often, and have never thought to ask!”

It’s six in the morning. Hajime rubs his temples. Any sane person would say no, because he’s tired and just quit his job so he’s going to need to find another one as soon as possible, and having a store burn down on your watch is not good on your resume.

It’s six in the morning, and if there’s any day that Hajime wants to start drinking at ass-o-clock in the morning and not on his dime, it’s this one.

“I’m Hajime Hinata. Please don’t burn anything else down.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Nagito calls from where he’s standing by the manager, “I’m sure that after that I’ll have some incredibly good luck!”

#brainrot #drabble #not really a drabble it's like 3k #but have it #love it #do what you want with it #this is the worst thing i've ever written #yes counting the fanfiction i wrote for my gcse in english language #this is so dumb #i can't even tell if it's funny or if i'm just tired #either way #have it

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sutekiyomitsu · 4 years ago

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Two Sides of the Same Coin: An Analysis of AIRREAL in Re:FOLLOWER (2019)

Re:FOLLOWER (2019) is one of those TV dramas that you watch till the end and then have to watch from the beginning again. The identity of the enigmatic AIRREAL was one of the most intriguing questions that I had since the start and even after the final climactic reveal. Who is he? What does he symbolise? What is his relationship with Hitomi? Does he even exist? Let’s talk about the mystery of AIRREAL down in the cut below.

(So fascinated I was that I wrote an academic paper analysing his role in the drama and handed it in. Below is me finally writing what I wish I could write in that academic paper, because I have to sound objective and follow a word limit in academics. But I do not have to do that when I want to rant about Sato Ryuji on tumblr.)

((Also, spoilers ahead.))

AIRREAL is not real

The final revelation of in the last episode is, of course, the revelation that AIRREAL is not actually “real” in the fullest sense – that is, he isn’t a separate human being, but has only existed in Hitomi’s head the whole time. Hints about his non-existence are scattered all over the drama.

AIRREAL’s name, costuming, and behaviour

AIRREAL's name is taken from Ariel in the Tempest, a spirit (not a human!), which already hints at his non-existence. Furthermore, his name, unlike all the other direct references to Shakespearean texts, is spelt differently: AIRREAL. The two parts of the name "AIR" and "REAL" already raises the question of why it's spelt that way. Is he real? Or is he just air?

His costuming, particularly because Sato Ryuji is dramatic and asked for it, stands out from everyone else, who is dressed rather normally. He has bright blue eyes and coloured highlights in his hair that change from episode to episode without any explanation. Compare that to the naturalistic costuming that everyone else has and it highlights him as a strange character.

He never moves anything nor passes anything directly to anyone. In Episode 1, he tosses the book to Hitomi and Hitomi is seen catching it. In Episode 3, he drops the book on the table instead of handing it to Hitomi. When sitting down, he never moves the chair.

He never speaks directly to anyone except Hitomi, and nobody speaks directly to AIRREAL except Hitomi either. When communicating with Tomoki, for example, he does it exclusively through text. He never addresses anyone directly by speaking, other than Hitomi. In Episode 2, he appears to be speaking to the whole group, but nobody reacts to his words (with the exception of Hitomi). In fact, there are quite a number of times when he appears to simply speak into the air. Nobody reacts to him except Hitomi.

“Plot holes”

He appears in places with no explanation. Hitomi and Tomoki spend about an episode and a half infiltrating the Kurikara cult to get in their building and temple. However, AIRREAL suddenly appears in the hallway and the room with them (Episode 4), with no explanation to who he is. Nobody reacts to his sudden appearance. Nobody asks why he’s there. He just appears and enters the room as if he’s always been there.

Another example is when Hitomi is on the run. Hitomi and Mina have been running around randomly without a clear destination for about an episode, trying to dodge the police. Just then, AIRREAL somehow magically appears across the lake from them, with no explanation about how AIRREAL knew that Hitomi would be there, a completely random spot that Hitomi had stopped at to take a breath.

When passing tickets to Hitomi, Yuusaku gives him two tickets to the play (even though there are three of them). Hitomi goes to the play, and Tomoki looks up at the time and realises he’s missed it, indicating that the two tickets were most likely meant for Hitomi and Tomoki (who doesn’t make it to the show). What about AIRREAL? AIRREAL shows up to the play to watch it, but leaves in the middle of it later. But if CRESSIDA was a four-man group, why would Yuusaku only give two tickets to his three friends?

Cinematography

The camera uses certain shots that suggest AIRREAL’s immateriality. There’s a shot-reverse-shot in Episode 4, where AIRREAL mysteriously vanishes in the final shot. AIRREAL’s abrupt and sudden disappearances continues in Episode 6-7, where AIRREAL suddenly vanishes from the theatre and appears outside even while the play is still going on.

There’s also the ending of Episode 3, which portrays (the spirit of) the dead boy Taku appearing over the hill to symbolically represent that he has moved on. AIRREAL appears in the shot just after Taku’s voice is heard – and then Taku is seen coming over the hill. Placing AIRREAL before Taku’s appearance not only suggests that he is not actually there because it equates him with Taku, who is also clearly not meant to be seen as “real”, but also suggests that AIRREAL has brought Taku with him to say one last goodbye.

AIRREAL is often portrayed being in the distance as well, such as in Episode 7’s ending, giving him a distant, solitary feel compared to the rest of the characters.

The use of a low angle in the climax of Episode 10 where AIRREAL appears to be standing above Hitomi also gives AIRREAL an unreal feeling because he does not seem to be grounded in anything – the background behind him is completely white (presumably the sky). All of these shots contribute to the idea that AIRREAL is not actually a “real person” in that sense.

AIRREAL and Hitomi are the same person

Double exposure

The relationship between AIRREAL and Hitomi is hinted even in Episode 1. The use of double exposure and overlapping voices shows how AIRREAL and Hitomi are overlapping personalities, not two different people all together. This double exposure happens multiple times. It happens twice in Episode 1: First, in the intro flashback, which shows their voices blending into each other as well.

The second comes from an extremely jarring sequence, in which AIRREAL passes Hitomi while walking down the street. It is filmed in slow-motion and comes to a pause using a freeze-frame. There is a series of quick jump-cuts between the two of them, then a double exposure of a negative image onto the freeze-frame. In the negative image, their positions are the reverse of the freeze-frame, so that they appear to be "in" each other. Then, there's multiple double exposures of their faces flashing quickly. As the scene resumes into normal speed, they lift their phones at the same time.

Another instance of this double exposure happening is in Episode 6's climax. In this case, the scene starts with a series of jump cuts between Hitomi and AIRREAL's faces and then slowly fades AIRREAL's face in Hitomi. Another thing significant about the scene is that their voices also mirror this effect, starting with only AIRREAL's voice (even though Hitomi is shown to be speaking, so it's non-diegetic) and then fading in with Hitomi's voice gradually. There's an implication that even though Hitomi is speaking to the crowd, it is AIRREAL who is actually the one speaking through Hitomi. Their identities, voices, faces all overlap into each other.

Blocking

AIRREAL is also shown to be behind Hitomi. In the library scene in Episode 1, the camera quickly pans from Hitomi to reveal that AIRREAL is sitting behind him – AIRREAL is the driving force behind many of Hitomi’s actions. This blocking (of AIRREAL being behind Hitomi) repeatedly occurs. He is shown trailing behind Hitomi in Episode 3 as they walk towards the field, as the camera pans from Hitomi to AIRREAL (drawing an equivalence between them).

AIRREAL's phone

One of the biggest hints and also one of the reasons why some keen-eyed people were able to guess the big twist from Episode 1 is the presence of AIRREAL's phone in a key scene: the intro flashback. AIRREAL's phone is kept off to the side, but it's present in Hitomi's room, even though presumably AIRREAL is not there. When AIRREAL is introduced, we don't see his face at first. First, we see a shot of his back, then we first see his hand and his phone, before he slowly moves it away, revealing his face. AIRREAL's "identity" is represented through his phone, as shown in the later revelation in Episode 10, where they reveal that Hitomi has been carrying around 2 phones and texting from both of them, without realising it.

Mirroring

AIRREAL and Hitomi also mirror each other multiple times. In Episode 2, they both pause in their step at the same spot between the bookshelves while walking around the library. (In the behind the scenes commentary, Ryuji also mentions that they were supposed to mirror each other's actions, but Shun didn’t, oops.) In Episode 4, the shot-reverse-shot shows AIRREAL and Hitomi both pulling a book from the shelf at the same time. These parallels between them show their sameness.

AIRREAL is the Darkness to Hitomi's Light

So, AIRREAL and Hitomi are the same person, as revealed in the ending. What sets them apart?

AIRREAL represents darker instincts of vengeance while Hitomi is meant to be the beacon of justice.

Episode 3 epitomises the difference between them. AIRREAL sets up the entire incident: he is the one who lures everyone to the field so that Yui can kill Shuiichi's boy in front of him as revenge for Shuiichi's murder of Taku. But Hitomi calls Yui's father to stop her from going through it by making her realise that she needs to let Taku go. The balance between what is revenge and what is justice is very delicate, but justice (represented by Hitomi's intervention) wins. The shallow focus shifts from AIRREAL to Hitomi in the conclusion of the incident. They are parallels of each other, not polar opposites. In that same line of thought, revenge and justice are not opposites, but two sides of the same coin, and the fact that they are actually the same person reinforces that there is justice in revenge and vice versa.

Costuming and Personality

Their costuming and styling reflects their differences. AIRREAL is typically dressed in black and other dark colours, while Hitomi tends to wear brighter colours like yellow. When Hitomi does wear dark colours, it indicates that AIRREAL's influence is very strong in that particular scene. The flashback sequence, where AIRREAL presumably first appears to Hitomi, is one, because AIRREAL manifests out of Hitomi's grief and need for revenge. Another important one is Episode 5-6, when Hitomi confronts the Kurikara cult. Their identities in Episode 5-6 become roughly indistinguishable from each other, showing that his want for personal revenge for the cover-up his mother's death (by Inukai, the cult leader) and the justice that he is serving for the client have become indistinguishable.

In reverse, AIRREAL also becomes more 'real', or in other words, human over time. He loses his coloured hair highlights by Episode 8. In relation, his personality also becomes warmer over time. In Episode 3, he is willing to let the little boy die for the sake of revenge. However, he later apologises to Tomoki for endangering him in Episode 7, one of the rare times that AIRREAL shows concern for the collateral damage of his vengeance.

Final Confrontation

In the final climax of the series in Episode 10, when Hitomi fights Yuusaku, the most pivotal moment comes when the dagger falls to the ground and Hitomi reaches for it, saying that he must avenge his mother's death. Goto and Ogishima are framed in the background but frozen and out of focus, which indicate that the events that unfold are not actually happening but are occurring in Hitomi's head. AIRREAL then appears, standing over Hitomi, and takes over the fight, easily knocking Yuusaku to the ground and intending to stab him (yes, for real!). He quotes a line from Hamlet: “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.” In Hamlet, this line suggests that even as he prays (my words fly up), Claudius’s thoughts remain in hell and are ungodly (my thoughts remain below), hence, his prayers are insincere and he remains unrepentant for his sin of murdering his brother. AIRREAL referencing this quote shows that he will have no guilt in killing Yuusaku as he believes it to be justified in his revenge.

Recall Episode 3, when Yui was in almost the exact situation. Hitomi, having experienced not just the death of his mother, but also the "Dog", who was accidentally killed by Mina. Hitomi realises that killing Yuusaku to avenge his mother’s murder would only cause him pain, and this, coupled with Goto’s voice (like Yui’s father in Episode 3) “wakes” him up. The camera cuts to a medium shot of him dropping the knife as if in a daze, and Goto tackles him to the ground. This is followed by a low angle shot of AIRREAL, who falls backwards, and a montage of different AIRREAL moments from various episodes.

Disoriented, Hitomi looks around and calls for AIRREAL. Goto and later Mina try to explain to him that AIRREAL has never been “there”, but that he has been AIRREAL the whole time, causing him to break down. His first friend and truest supporter does not actually exist, but has been within himself the whole time

The case of AIRREAL’s identity

So, back to the question. Who is AIRREAL? Why did Hitomi create him? In the montage that follows this realisation, we see different scenes of AIRREAL from various episodes, but with AIRREAL missing, showing that Hitomi has been by himself this whole time. In the voice over, Rei, Hitomi’s (or Nao’s, because that was his name before his mother’s death) mother, talks about how Ariel in the Tempest vanishes at the end of the story. As she says that, we see a shot of AIRREAL (from Episode 2, judging by his attire, by the way) walking away into the distance and vanishing. In Tempest, Ariel is bound to serve Prospero and fulfils various tasks for him, and when all of them are done, he is released. In the same manner, AIRREAL was created by Hitomi for a specific purpose.

I believe that AIRREAL was created because Hitomi could no longer bear the burden of his grief and deep-rooted anger about his mother’s death. Knowing that she had been murdered, Hitomi was unable to move on from her death, but felt entirely helpless to fight against those who killed her and covered it up. It is in this greatest state of helplessness and grief that AIRREAL was born. AIRREAL was created to help to take this darkness from Hitomi, and therefore Hitomi projected his deep and dark desire for revenge onto him.

We can see this from AIRREAL’s own words, as he states that he will become Hitomi’s power/strength – strength that he needs in order to overcome his own helplessness and also his enemies (those who killed and covered up his mother’s death). He states this twice, first in the intro flashback and in the final confrontation, where he reminds Hitomi that he does not have to take on the task of killing Yuusaku by himself – AIRREAL is there to be the darkness, so that Hitomi does not have to be. In this way, AIRREAL protects Hitomi from being lost in his quest for revenge by taking it on himself.

Also, the name “Shiroe Kimito”, which is the reported ‘real name’ of AIRREAL (not that he has a real name but it was a red herring by the producers), is an anagram of “Kishimoto Rei”, the name of Hitomi’s mother, showing how the image of AIRREAL that Hitomi created was based on the memory of his mother. It is his memory of her that drove Hitomi to create AIRREAL so that he might be able to avenge her. Actually, even “Hitomi”, the name that he chose for himself after being released from prison, is based on his mother, showing that his whole life had been completely altered when he lost his mother and that his whole identity is based on that incident.

AIRREAL vanishes after the final confrontation, having fulfilled the purpose of finding out the truth about his mother’s death and captured the one responsible for it. Hitomi is finally able to move on with Mina, and like Ariel in the Tempest, AIRREAL’s role is finished and he vanishes.

Or is he?

In the very final scene, he looks back, before he turns and walks away. But the camera then cuts to AIRREAL again, who, much like in his introduction flashback, moves the phone away to reveal his face.

AIRREAL’s work is still not finished. Not yet.

(and if it weren’t for [censored] we’d actually be able to know what it is but unfortunately the sequel stage was cancelled and we cannot have nice things.)

AIRREAL and Hitomi are two sides of the same coin. AIRREAL is yin to Hitomi’s yang. They are different, yes, and AIRREAL embodies darker aspects of vengeance, but one cannot exist without the other. It is this relationship between AIRREAL and Hitomi, and therefore the ideas of justice and revenge, that characterise the themes of Re:FOLLOWER as a whole.

#esther analyses #re:follower #sato ryuji #nishime shun

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3pirouette · 4 years ago

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Fic: Domestic Bliss and International Espionage (1/1)

Title: Domestic Bliss and International Espionage By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: General TFA and AC Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 8109 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: For Tumblr’s @superhero-daugthers11 as a pinch hit for the Steggy Secret Santa. Steve and Peggy, back in the US after the war, go undercover as a newlywed couple to find a Hydra scientist hiding in the suburbs.

A/N: This is 100% inspired by several things. 1. One of my all-time favorite X-Files Episodes “Arcadia” 2. The first episode of WandaVision 3. My giftee saying she liked the idea of Steggy married/dating and working together for SHIELD, and 4. Getting another Steggy Bingo Prompt in there… sentence prompt: “Did you really just insult Captain America in front of me?”

Please assume/add in your headcanons for the following: Steve was rescued shortly after the Valkyrie crash and OBVIOUSLY has pursued a romantic relationship with Peggy. Due to this, the events of the Agent Carter series have NOT happened. They’re both working for the SSR, tying up loose ends from the war.

Easiest way to see what I see is to imagine Steve and Peggy in the Petrie’s house from the Dick Van Dyke Show… but if you’re not familiar with that, the house from the first episode of WandaVision will do nicely.

~*~

Steve turned from the suitcase where he was lifting folded shirts out. “Just… consider this a test run.”

Peggy smirked, leaning against the doorjamb of the bedroom. She held out her hand, one of Steve’s socks dangling from her two fingers. “What, for me finding your stinky socks on the bathroom floor? Strike one, Rogers.”

Peggy tossed the sock to him, moving into the small bedroom with its double twin beds. She sat heavily on the side of hers, shaking her head. “If this is anything like moving, I’ll never do it again. I’m exhausted.”

Steve tucked his shirts away in the drawer, turning back to her, balling the sock up in his hand and tossing it into the hamper in the closet. “Most houses don’t have top of the line surveillance equipment we would have to hide in the roses.”

“The neighbors are already peeking out,” Peggy said, kicking her shoes off and sliding them under the edge of the bed with her toe. “I saw some from the back door peeking over while I was finishing in the kitchen. I’m sure we’ll have visitors tomorrow.”

Steve grabbed his empty suitcase from the bed and slipped it in the closet, shutting the door. “I’m surprised we didn’t have any today, what with all the commotion of moving in.”

Peggy shrugged, bouncing back to lie on the bed. “In my experience, deep cover Hydra scientists trying to hide out in suburban communities don’t just knock on your door and announce themselves.”

Steve chuckled, moving over to sit on the side of her bed at her hip. He gently took her left hand, running his thumb over the fake wedding band she wore. Peggy smiled up at him. “You know, Angie told me you’d asked her about my ring size.” Steve’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, and she could see his mind trying to scramble to salvage the surprise. “Oh, I know it’s coming, Steve. Don’t try to pretend it isn’t.”

He smiled softly. “I was hoping to surprise you is all.”

“You will,” she whispered, shifting to hold his hand tight. “When, where, how… I’ll try to avoid using my super spy powers on you to divine those things.” She reached her other hand to slide up his arm. “I’m an inpatient woman, so don’t make me wait too long.”

Steve smiled wolfishly at her, leaning over and putting his weight on his left hand, trapping her under him. “I mean, this counts, right?” He leaned down, letting Peggy traverse the last few centimeters to bring their lips together, kissing her sweetly. “This counts as being married?”

She chuckled as she kissed him, reaching one arm up to twine in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Absolutely does not.”

He pulled back a bit, teasing. “I mean, I am sleeping right over there…”

“In your own bed,” Peggy pushed them up to sitting, wrapping both arms around his shoulders.

“And it would be so easy to just push them together.”

She shook her head, teasing, despite the fact that the idea seemed like a good one to her. “Scandalous.”

Steve kissed her gently again. “Well, I suppose I should at least pretend to let you get a good night’s sleep?”

Peggy nodded, smiling. “We’ve got a bit of work ahead of us, I think. Very few men trying to hide from prosecution for war crimes make themselves known.”

“Good night then,” he kissed her softly and pushed away from her, “Mrs. Harper.”

Peggy tipped her head with a sultry smile. “Mr. Harper.”

~*~

Peggy moved the eggs around the pan, eyes tight on them as Steve walked into the kitchen the next morning. “Don’t distract me,” she mumbled. “The second I look away they burn.”

He watched her for a moment as she gently stirred the scrambled eggs, eyes intent as he’d ever seen them. “Stove burning too hot?”

“Simply out of practice, I’m afraid. Already ruined four eggs this way.” She pulled the pan off the heat and separated the eggs on to two plates. “Anything I’ve eaten for the last few years has come from a mess, out of a can, or from the automat.” She set the empty pan down and snapped off the heat. “Why you ever married me I’ll never know.”

He moved over, taking both plates and kissing her on the cheek. “Why, I like it so much, I might do it twice.”

Peggy chuckled, moving the pan to the sink and running water in it. “Easy there, soldier. We haven’t made it through this mission yet.” She peeked over at his silence, then turned around all the way, meeting his intent stare. “It’s the apron, isn’t it? I’ve gone too far?”

Steve watched, hands still full of plates, as she spun in her dress, looking for something out of place while her perfect curls bounced around her face like something out of a beauty magazine. He smiled, “No, no- I just…” he cleared his throat, moving to set the plates on the small table in the kitchen. He took a gentle deep breath and moved over to her. “It’s all a little… too perfect, you know? Not quite us, I think, but like something out of a movie.”

Peggy bit her lip, stepping closer to him so he could wrap her in his arms. “This whole thing is a bit spot on.” She played with the edge of his cardigan, the blue doing amazing things for his eyes. “But needs must when trying to build a trap.”

He moved his hand to trace over her chin, feeling content and happy despite the threat. “Will you cook me eggs after this is all over?”

Peggy would her arms around his neck, humming happily. “If you’re a good boy.” After a moment, she pushed back, centering herself. “Though you haven’t eaten them, yet, so you are taking a large chance there, darling.” She pushed him towards the table and followed shortly, two mugs of coffee in her hands.

“Peg—”

“Betty,” she demanded, stopping and looking at him. “I agree that this little fantasy is a bit of a slippery slope for the both of us, but we really must start doing better.” She sat and slid his coffee to him, looking him in eyes pointedly. “Roger.”

Steve nodded, taking the coffee. “Right. Betty,” he paused, the name not rolling off his tongue easily, “I can help with the cooking.”

“And risk someone seeing?” She picked up her fork, face stern. “From this moment on, no matter what, we’re happy newlyweds Roger and Betty Harper. I’m a stay-at-home wife who loves to knit and worked in a bullet factory during the war, you’re a veteran and you do figures at an accounting firm in the city. Perfect little wife, doting husband. Suburban life to a ridiculous, stereotypical T, got it?”

He held out his hand and she took it, looking at her plate rather than at him. “Hey,” he waited until she lifted her eyes. “I was just enjoying it too much. I know our cover. I’m in this one hundred percent, okay?”

Peggy held his hand and squeezed lightly, the smile returning to her face. “Yes, dear.”

~*~

By mid-morning they’d had five of the neighboring wives stop in to introduce themselves. Most were kind, young, gregarious and a bit overly excited to get to know them once Steve showed his face.

“You should stay in the kitchen when the next one comes over,” Peggy complained, sitting heavily on their small couch. “I can’t stand another wide-eyed housewife dazzled by your smile.”

Steve laughed, sitting next to her. “There’s only one housewife I want dazzled by my smile.”

Peggy collapsed into his lap, looking up at him. “She’s a little too tired to be dazzled right now. Somehow social pleasantries are more exhausting than the battlefield.” She closed her eyes, letting Steve’s fingers running through her hair lull her into a sense of calm. “Anything on any of the cameras?”

“No,” Steve didn’t slow his movements as his hand combed through her hair. He’d spent his morning when he wasn’t meeting neighbors “working,” keeping an eye on all of the cameras and equipment they’d set up. “So far just people mowing their lawns and taking walks.” She could feel his chuckle. “Not that I expected to see anyone building a bomb in their back yard…”

She reached up a hand, gently hitting him in the chest. “Don’t be flippant about it. Some people are quite stupid.”

The doorbell rang again and Peggy hoisted herself from Steve’s embrace, straightening her dress and forcing a smile on her face. “You look perfect,” Steve reassured.

She huffed, her eyebrows bouncing high on her forehead as she moved to the front door. “Hello?” She asked, her tone changing as she pulled the door open.

Standing across from her was a young woman, similar in age to Peggy, with sharp features and immaculately styled blonde hair. “Oh, hi! I hope I’m not interrupting?” Her Midwest accent was sharp, just a little too bubbly as she held out the dish she was holding. “I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

Peggy swept back, opening her arm. “Please come in. I’m Betty and this is my husband, Roger.”

“Dottie Underwood,” she said quickly, smiling back and forth between the both of them. “I brought you some cookies, I baked them fresh last night, and if I leave them around the house I’m afraid my father just eats them all.”

Peggy carefully took the dish, smiling as she set it down. “They look wonderful, thank you.”

Dottie’s eyes swept around the house, somewhat more intent than a simple curious glance. “You’re quite welcome. How are you settling?”

Steve stood tall, smiling brightly as he moved next to Peggy, gently laying his hand on her back. “Well enough, people have been very kind. I think we’ve met most of the neighborhood by now, haven’t we, honey?”

Peggy giggled, leaning into his side and watching how Dottie tried to keep her smile straight. “Oh, at least the whole street, I’m sure.”

“That’s wonderful.” Dottie smiled brightly. “I was hoping maybe you’d come over for dinner tonight? I live with my father and I’m afraid he doesn’t go out much anymore, but he does enjoy meeting everyone.”

Steve and Peggy shared a short look. To the average person it seemed just a husband and wife consulting one another, to the trained eye, the conversation that happened was much more in-depth and quick. “Well,” Steve replied quickly, “I think we’d be delighted.”

“Oh, that’s just wonderful,” Dottie replied, her smile growing wider, eyes sparkling as she moved toward the door. “I’ll go tell father, he’ll be so pleased.”

Dottie smiled at them, the three standing quietly until Steve nudged Peggy I the back. “Oh, yes, is there anything we can bring?” Peggy asked, trying to hide her forgetfulness with a fluster.

Dottie laughed lightly, moving towards the door. “Just yourselves. Six o’clock, sharp.” She stopped, hand on the knob. “We’re the little blue house, 1013, just on the other side of the street.”

Once she was out, Peggy scooted to the window, watching as Dottie meandered down the driveway and sidewalk, eyes never leaving her until she disappeared into her own home. “Did she strike you as…”

“Trying to hard?” Steve supplied, looking over her shoulder. “Suspicious?”

Peggy turned, looking at him, the agent emerging from the housewife. “Do we have a camera on their house?”

Steve smiled. “Rosebush 3.”

~*~

“What do you mean you invited them over?” Fennhoff bellowed, slamming his fist on the small kitchen table. “What about in hiding do you not understand?”

Dottie rolled her eyes at him, sitting across the table. “Sometimes the best place to hide is out in the open, Papa.” The title dripped from her lips, sarcastic and biting. She pulled the notebook he was scribbling in away, forcing him to look at her. “If we want to fit in, we need to get to know these people, make them want to help and protect the old man and his daughter.”

He grabbed the notebook back. “We should stay inside.”

“You can’t build a new identity by staying inside you helpless oaf.” Dottie stood, pushing away from the table and letting the legs of the chair scrape along the floor. She rounded the small table, leaning over the scientist’s shoulder, eyes dark. “My job is to protect you until Hydra builds itself back up and is ready for you to come back. You trust me, or you get caught. Your call.”

He pursed his lips tight, unhappy. “We should be at their home, going through their things.”

Dottie made a noise in the back of her throat as she rolled her eyes and moved away. “Like I haven’t thought of that.” She moved away, leaning on the kitchen counter. “I’ve already told them you’re unwell. At some point we’ll make your excuses and you can go see what you can find.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I am not the one who is a spy, you are.”

Dottie smiled like a snake, her teeth sharp and gleaming in the light. “You’re whatever I tell you you are until this whole thing is over.”

~*~

Steve looked at the young man across the dinner table, knowing he was lying. As hard as he’d tried to get in the Army, there had been more people trying just as hard, if not harder, to get out of it. “4F you say?”

“Yeah,” Dan from across the street cleared his throat. “Asthma. Wouldn’t let me enlist over a little thing like that.”

Dinner was a strained affair. Steve and Peggy saw upon their arrival that they hadn’t been the only people invited. Dottie has also invited her neighbors, Dan and Laura Smythe, to try to help them get to know people. Though they tried to keep the conversation moving, it was stilted and uncomfortable. Dottie, all smiles, kept trying to shift topics of conversation while her father sat grumpily at the head of the table.

“Beastly affair, that war.” Dottie’s feigned sadness was easy to see through. “It’s how I lost my Earnie.”

Laura wasn’t quite as sharp as Peggy and fell for the faux sadness, letting her hand rest on the woman’s arm. “Your beau?”

“We were engaged,” Dottie continued, sniffling dramatically. “He was a pilot with the 107th, got shot down over enemy territory.”

Steve and Peggy shared a look. There hadn’t been any pilots in the 107th, definitely none named Earnie. A quick glance at the older Underwood revealed nothing. He had no feelings about the loss of the man who supposedly was going to marry his daughter, which struck them both as odd.

Laura, however, was eating it up. “Was he one of the soldier’s that Captain America saved in that amazing rescue? Didn’t he save nearly that whole battalion?”

Dottie shook her head. “No, he was lost just before that, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that didn’t happen, anyway.” Steve said with a bold confidence that made every face turn and look at him.

Peggy’s jaw tightened as she turned to him, putting a hand to his arm. “Darling.”

“No, you know how I feel about this, Betty.” Steve turned and patted her hand, every inch the dismissive husband. “I was out there, fighting for my life, fighting to get back to you, and they parade this guy around in tights on newsreels?”

“Laura and I saw him at one of those USO shows,” Dan started, causing Peggy to squeeze Steve’s arm in concern that their ruse was about to fall apart, “I swear I saw wires. Guy was an actor and a hack.”

“Right?” Steve threw up his hand, nodding appreciatively at the man. “No way he was that strong.”

Laura giggled a bit, leaning towards Dottie. “He was quite handsome, though, don’t you think?”

Dottie, hoping to defuse some of the tension she could feel radiating around the table, just laughed along. “Oh yes, very handsome.” Dottie turned her smile across the table. “Did you ever get to see him, Betty?”

Peggy folded her hands under the table. “Oh, a few times.” She snuck a look at Steve then leaned forward, whispering towards the women though she knew full well everyone could hear her. “Those tights were quite the uniform!”

The women giggled, Dan pressed his lips into a tight line, and Steve had to bite his tongue to keep a straight face. The elder Underwood, for his part, was growing more and more upset.

“That man won them the war,” the elder Underwood grumbled.

“Impossible.” Steve turned to him, almost enjoying the part he was playing. “Hollywood smoke and mirrors. I was out there and I never saw him or that shield. Not once.”

Underwood pushed himself away from the table, his face growing red. “Did you really just insult Captain America in front of me?” He stood, leaning over Peggy and Steve with enough menace that Steve put his arm across Peggy, ready to move her behind him if the man became any more aggressive. “You come into my house and you say these things?”

Steve had been having fun with their plan to insult his alter ego, see if their hosts were sympathetic, showed any leanings to the Axis powers, but this hit home. He knew people had idolized him, and as much as that had made him uncomfortable, he understood how important it was to have a symbol of hope in such a bleak time.

Before Steve could reply and apologize the man stormed off. Dottie stood, stuttering an apology, and followed him into the house.

“Well, I for one am with you,” Dan said, raising his fork and diving back into his dinner. “Man was a fraud.”

Peggy grabbed Steve’s hand under the table and squeezed.

~*~

“What was that back there?” Dottie demanded in a hushed voice once she’d closed the door to Fennhoff’s room behind them.

“Distraction,” he said sharply, his accent becoming more pronounced. “You want distraction, you get distraction.”

Dottie huffed, crossing her arms. “And what am I supposed to tell them now?”

“That your father is a great patriot. That he needs his rest. You say whatever you say while I go pretend to be spy.” Fennhoff waved her away and opened the window in his room, grumbling about how he was supposed to slip out. “Lock the door.”

~*~

Steve stood as Dottie joined them back at the table. “I should go apologize.”

“No, no,” Dottie shooed him back to his seat. “My father gets grumpy sometimes. He just needed to take his pills and lay down for a spell.” She sat herself back down and laid her napkin on her lap with deliberate flair. “It’ll all be forgotten after a quick nap, I promise.”

“Still, I’d feel better if I could,” Steve reluctantly sat, rearranging his own napkin.

“I’m sure he’ll be back out in a bit.” She smiled widely, a motion that did not reach her eyes. “He just never misses dessert!”

~*~

Anyone fluent in Russian would have been scandalized at the string of words coming from Fennhoff’s lips as he snuck into the back of the Harper home.

“Don’t even lock their doors,” Fennhoff mumbled as he slipped in their back door. He moved carefully through the dark kitchen, futilely opening and closing cabinets. He did not expect to find anything in the home of that vapid man who didn’t believe Captain America was real.

He’d seen the damage that man could do with his own eyes. Anyone who believed Captain America hadn’t won the war for the Allied forces was either dimwitted, a fool, or both.

He tried to stay quiet as he moved through the house, but there wasn’t much light and even less to see that was interesting. The house was only sparsely decorated with few, if any, places to hide things. He made his rounds quickly, opening and closing closets and doors and saw nothing that would make him think these people were anything other than what they said they were: boring American suburbanites.

He stopped on his way out and opened the small broom closet he’d neglected on the way in, sighing when there was nothing more than a broom, mop, and bucket there.

“Dumb woman spy,” he mumbled, letting himself out quietly.

~*~

“Next time we’ll have you over,” Peggy said, holding both of Dottie’s hands at the door. “Dinner was simply marvelous.”

“Oh, shucks,” Dottie took one hand to bat the compliment away. “It was so lovely to get to know you and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth crooked up sadly. “Please give my apologies to your father.”

“No need,” she reached out, stroking Steve’s shoulder in a motion that was just slightly more than neighborly. “He’s a stubborn old man and you are a great war hero, Mr. Harper. You’re allowed a difference of opinion, especially since you were there.”

“All the same,” Steve stepped back out of her reach, taking Peggy’s hand and moving away. He felt like if he didn’t escape, they’d be exchanging pleasantries all night. “Have a great night.”

“You too!” Dottie called, watching from the door as they turned.

Steve pressed his hand to Peggy’s back, pushing her down the pavement just a little faster. “She’s still watching,” he mumbled. “Gosh, such lovely neighbors around here, don’t you think, honey?” he let his voice drift louder.

“Absolutely, darling. I’m so excited to get to know them all. Maybe join the Women’s Auxiliary.” Peggy leaned closer to Steve, her voice lower now, “Is she still watching? My face hurts from smiling.”

“Few more feet, dear,” he whispered. He leaned down, “I think Dan and Laura are out there now,” he pointed to his ear, signaling he could hear them talking, “Want to give them a show?”

Peggy raised her eyebrow, the false suburban smile she’d been sporting morphing into a smirk he was much more used to seeing on her face. “Show?”

He led her up the steps, stopping to dig the keys out of his pocket. Once he did, he reached out and unlocked the door, pushing it open. Before she could step in, he swept her off her feet, carrying her like she was a brand-new bride. Peggy squeaked, grabbing on to his shoulders more out of surprise than fear that he would drop her on the front porch.

She laughed. “This is what you had in mind?”

He leaned forward, kissing her gently. “Gotta sell that newlywed cover,” he whispered against her lips. “They watching?”

Peggy shifted her head as he turned them a bit, his lips on hers again. Peggy squinted, making it look like her eyes were closed. She didn’t normally like to do double duty while Steve was kissing her, but he managed to avoid distracting her too badly. She could see the Smythe’s and Dottie on the porch, eyes glues to them. From the window, the elder Underwood peaked out. Peggy dragged her lips away. “All watching. And slightly scandalized.”

“They’ll be very scandalized in a minute,” he mumbled, kissing down her neck.

Peggy hit him playfully in the shoulder. “Barbarian!” She laughed as he growled in her ear. “Inside at once!” She kicked a bit as he straightened up, laughing as he bounced her in his arms. Steve made a show of almost losing his balance and nearly dropping her as he stepped over the threshold for their audience. For good measure he kicked the door closed, wishing he could see all of their faces.

He’d absolutely go back and check the surveillance tapes just to see what they looked like.

He turned, putting Peggy down and pressing her up against the door, letting his lips meet hers again. “That was fun.”

She hummed happily, but pushed him away. “Quite, but we still have work to do.” She moved past him, then stopped as she flipped on the light. She held out her hand, then pointed. “And you made fun of me for vacuuming us out before we left.”

“You were wearing pearls and an evening dress.” Steve pointed out, bending low to look at the fresh footprints that showed against the new, freshly cleaned nap of the carpet. “What do you think?”

“Man’s shoe, fairly large.” Peggy moved around, following the path. “Came from the kitchen, so… in through the back door.”

“Looks like he took a peek in each room,” Steve added, opening the doors and following the trail, “then back through the kitchen to go out.”

“You think they found…” Peggy started, but didn’t finish, following Steve into the kitchen and watching as he opened the closet door.

“Doubt it, everything’s exactly as I left it, including that little bit of flour by the wall.” He smiled up at her, trying to show off the tricks he’d slowly been learning from her since they’d been working together stateside. He warmed at bit at her smile, then moved the mop, broom, and bucket. With a firm push to one side of the back wall, it spun, sweeping the flour on the floor into a wide, tell-tale circle and revealing that the closet was actually three times the size, hiding a small bank of monitors and recording equipment. “Shall we?”

They both slipped in the small space, Steve on the stool he occupied for most of the day while surveilling, Peggy peering over his shoulder as he found the reel trained on their back door and rolled it back. It was fuzzy in the darkness, but the figure creeping through their rosebushes seemed quite familiar. “Is that Underwood?” Peggy asked, waiting for Steve to roll the tape back and forth until they had a fairly clear picture.

“Looks like it,” Steve mumbled, marking down the time and reel for future reference. “What do you think he’s looking for?”

“Same as we are,” Peggy said quietly, slipping from the closet to lean on the door jamb. “If they’re in hiding, they’re looking out for anyone wanting to find them.”

Steve reloaded some of the reels, marking others and setting the film aside to review tomorrow. Peggy watched him work, smiling as he rolled up his sleeves, concentration fully on his task. She leaned on the doorway, slipping off her heels and content to just be for the moment. Steve slipped out of the hidden space, pushing the fake wall back in place and sweeping the flour back into an indistinguishable line along the bottom of the wall.

“Do you think it will be like this?” Peggy mused, watching as he ran a damp cloth along the visible floor of the closet, hiding the existence of the flour even further to sell their ruse.

“Do I think what will be like what?” Steve asked, standing and laying the wet dishcloth over the back of a chair to dry.

Peggy bounced over to him on her toes, hands holding her heels behind her back, hips swaying and swinging her skirt around her in a manner that was much more carefree than Steve had seen her in a long time. “Do you think our marriage will be like this? Domestic bliss and snogging against the front door one minute and international espionage the next?”

Steve tilted his head, his forehead creasing in thought as he wrapped his arms around her. “You know, it probably will. Though I’d like to say we’ll need much less surveillance at our house.”

“Our house…” she mused, smiling widely. “Kind of thrilling, isn’t it?” Peggy wrapped her arms around him with a sly smile, heels still dangling from her fingers.

His brows knit together for just a brief moment, the concern replaced by amusement on his face. “I don’t think life with you will ever be boring, dear.” He leaned down, kissing her gently.

Peggy leaned back, eyes still closed, a smile on her lips. She blinked her eyes open, half lidded and dreamy. “What say you to pushing the beds together tonight, Mr. Harper?”

He kissed her again, nipping at her bottom lip. “Sounds like an excellent idea to me.” Without warning, Steve bent his knees, grabbing behind her thighs and lifting her up.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, a sly smile on her face. “You enjoy showing off like that, don’t you?”

“For you?” His smile lit up his face. “Absolutely.”

Her face went blank, her eyes darting around the room as if people were there that might overhear her. “Small confession.” She leaned close to him, eyes sincere. “If, tomorrow, you woke up and were that 98 pound asthmatic man I first met, I’d love you all the same. But, and I’ll deny this until the day I die to anyone else,” her eyes grew mischievous, “I like it when you show off very much. Please don’t ever stop.”

He laughed, full and hearty, as he started to move toward the bedroom. Peggy bounced her heel off his lower back, trying to turn him like a horse. “Ah! Back, soldier. We’ve got doors to lock!”

Steve laughed, turning back and shifting her to his hip so he could see and secure the house without having to put her down. “Yes, ma’am!”

~*~

“They are not spies,” Fennhoff insisted, pushing past Dottie.

She shook her head, closing the cabinet door with more force than necessary. The kitchen was still in a state from the dinner party and as usual she was left to clean everything up. “I’m telling you, you’re wrong. You just didn’t know where to look.”

The man grumbled and disappeared down the hall, the sound of his bedroom door slamming and locking echoing through the house.

~*~

The morning sun was bright coming through the front room’s picture window. Steve squinted as he stepped up behind Peggy, wrapping one arm around her waist as his other hand wound around her to offer her the cup of tea he held. “A little sunny, isn’t it?”

She hummed in agreement as she took and sipped her tea, her eyes never leaving the street where they were staring intently. “See that tabby?”

He followed her line of sight, things clearer as he got used to the brightness, to the small grey cat bouncing up and down the curb across the street outside of Dottie’s house. “I mean, it’s cute, but I don’t think right now is the best time to get a pet, Betty.” A soft humor infused his voice, knowing that Peggy’s plans were far past pets as she stayed intent on the creature.

“Hum, maybe not. But nevertheless, it’s been in and out of our yard, too, and I’ve noticed it doesn’t have a collar.” She let her free hand run over the arm around her waist. “What’s the range on those bugs Howard gave us?”

“With a direct line of sight, 100 yards.” He shrugged, thinking. “Obscured? Maybe 50. Could be more or less depending on what’s between us and it.” He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her soft scent before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You have a plan.”

She turned and smiled at him. “I have a plan.”

~*~

It started with a small saucer of milk late that morning. Peggy left it on the front stoop and spent a little while just sitting outside next to it, waving at neighbors and smiling. “You haven’t seen that little grey tabby, have you?” she would ask each passing person, concern all over her face, “I got a glimpse of him this morning and I could have sworn he was limping!”

By the afternoon, Steve was trying very hard to keep a straight face as he helped her “search” for the cat in their yard.

Just before dinner, Peggy palmed the small listening device, a thin disk that was barely the size of a quarter, and headed across the street, making tiny whispering and clicking noises, eyes, wide and sad.

Laura Smythe popped her head out of her kitchen window as Peggy knelt next to the storm drain between their house and Dottie’s. “Betty? Are you ok?”

“Oh, fine, Laura!” She stood and waved, her face tight. “I just could have sworn I saw that little grey stray cat and it was limping. I just want to make sure the poor thing is okay.” She huffed and stood, straightening her skirt. “Have you seen him?”

Laura shook her head. “Not since yesterday.” She smiled at Peggy. “So sweet of you to want to try to help him.”

“Well thanks, I—oh!” Peggy turned, eyes set on Dottie’s front yard. With a fake wobble in her heels, she was more adept in running in them than she’d like everyone to know, she darted towards the azalea bush and stopped short. She smiled back at Laura, “I think I’ve got him!” With a smile that had nothing to do with a cat, Peggy pushed her way into the bush and along the front side of the house. She made some noise, swished the plant a few times, and smiled to herself. It was going perfectly.

Dottie was on her porch before Peggy could even catch her breath from the run over, voice loud. “Goodness, Betty, what are you doing?” She demanded, incensed.

Peggy stood, using the ledge of the window to haul herself up and the exaggerated surprise she feigned to hide how she set the small bug in the corner of the sill and the window. “Oh! Dottie I hope I didn’t startle you!”

Dottie, less neighborly than yesterday, started at her. “You did, Betty. Why are you in my bushes?”

Peggy dropped her head, shaking it sadly. “Oh, I just saw that poor neighborhood cat limping this morning and I’ve been trying to get my hands on him and see if he was ok. I could have sworn I saw him over here!” Peggy looked around herself, as if she was just noticing what a mess she made. “Oh, goodness, what have I done? I just don’t think sometimes!”

Dottie couldn’t hide the suspicion on her face, but stepped down and offered Peggy her hand. “Let me help you out.”

“Oh, I am so sorry! Your beautiful flowers!” Peggy brushed the leaves and petals from her dress and gestured towards the slightly rumpled bush. “I’ll pay for any damages, I am so, so very sorry.”

“No need,” Dottie said coolly, her smile never reaching her eyes. “I never liked that one anyway.”

~*~

Steve was still laughing when she made her way back into the house. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t deny that it must have looked a sight. “You almost done?” She crossed her arms, trying to hide her smile as she leaned against the counter.

He was still catching his breath as he emerged from his small control center in the broom closet, hand pressed to his chest. “Oh… oh that was priceless.”

She eyed him as he moved closer, leaning his hands on the counter on either side of her and looming with a bright smile on his face. Peggy rested her hand on his shoulders, enjoying the closeness. “Yes, but did it work?”

He nodded, reaching up with one hand and picking leaves and petals from her hair. He picked the last one and held the pink petal up for her to see. “It did. Not the clearest sound, but good enough.” He kissed her quickly, a peck full of pride and happiness. “You’re brilliant.”

“Why, thank you,” she replied happily, lifting up on her toes for another brief kiss before she ducked away under his arm. “Then you’re making dinner. I’m simply exhausted from looking for that cat all day!”

~*~

The chatter from the Underwood residence was tinny and quiet, but there wasn’t much to expect from the small transmitter. It did its job and Steve and Peggy could hear clear enough the woman and her father bickering in half sentences. Anytime they were in the back of the house they were out of range, but the front room and kitchen came in clear enough.

“They know they’re being monitored,” Peggy sighed, pulling off her headphones. Dottie’s tone had been harsh and clipped, and more than once her “father” had stopped short mid-sentence, either because he didn’t want to keep talking or because Dottie wanted him stopped.

Steve pulled off his own headphones and leaned back. He tried to stretch but his arms hit the wall of the small closet. “You’re right. They’re far too close lipped.”

“And the language is not nearly familiar enough to be father and daughter,” Peggy muttered, scooting to the side and leaning back onto Steve’s shoulder. His arm would around her immediately, stroking over her upper arm. “I’m not sold that they’re who we’re looking for, but I know they’re not who they say they are.”

Steve tipped his head into hers, cuddling close for a second. “What do you think? Time to turn in?”

She nodded against him “They’ll still be there tomorrow, I suppose.”

~*~

Peggy snuck out of her bed, tiptoeing as she picked up her robe and slippers, trying to avoid waking Steve in the middle of the night.

“Peg?” he murmured, turning.

She stopped, shifting her load to one hand to push his hair out of his eyes with the other as she bent by his bed. “Can’t sleep. Just getting some water.”

He hummed as her fingers moved over his cheek, catching her hand in his and turning his head to kiss her palm. “Don’t be long. You need to rest.”

She smiled as his eyes fluttered closed, sleep already pulling him back. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

Peggy slipped through the bedroom door, closing it behind her before wrapping herself in the robe and putting the slippers on her feet. There was a chill in the air, enough to make her wrap her arms around herself as she moved through the living room and to the kitchen.

She didn’t bother with the lights, the moonlight through the windows was enough to see by. She’d been lying in bed for hours, her mind running over scenarios of who the mysterious “father” and “daughter” team across the street could really be. She quietly opened the refrigerator, pulling out the orange juice. She filled the first glass she found and slipped the bottle back, sitting at the table in the darkness. She’d been expecting to find a man named Fennhoff masquerading as a widower. They didn’t know much about him, never mind what he looked like, but the presence of Dottie was baffling to her. The woman was suspicious and sharp, and deep inside Peggy thought she was smarter than she let on.

Peggy sipped her juice, not really wanting it but needing something to do with her hands. She thought about slipping back into the little closet, reviewing the tapes for the night, but decided against it. She needed to shut off her mind, quiet it, not rile it up. She needed rest so she could figure out what their next step would be. Steve was good, and getting better every day, but his real expertise was on the battlefield, not as a spy, and he still deferred to her in almost all matters for missions. She needed to be ready with a new plan by the time the alarm clock went off in the morning.

She wasn’t sure how long she was sitting in the dark, letting her mind wander, before she heard it: soft, crunching footsteps in the backyard. She lifted her glass and slowly made her way to behind the counter, crouched low and waiting. She didn’t have much of an advantage, but the juice would at least sting enough to give her the element of surprise.

Peggy steeled herself as she heard the doorknob slowly turn, the person jiggling it gently to confirm the lock was thrown. She slowed her breathing, mind clear and ready for anything as she heard the soft click of lock picks and the tumblers moving in place. The door opened almost silently, a small figure slipping in based on the shadow Peggy could see along the wall.

The person slipped in, looking quietly around the room. Peggy held her breath, waiting as the footsteps got closer, waiting for the person to be just close enough.

Without thought she stood, tossing the juice towards the intruder.

Dottie Underwood screeched as the acidic juice burned her eyes, stumbling back.

Peggy pressed forward, pushing her against the cabinets with both hands. She knew the rattle was loud enough to wake Steve and that he’d be there to back her up any moment. “What are you doing here?”

Dottie, eyes red and blinking furiously, took only a second to choose between lying and the truth. Truth, though, didn’t quite come with words. Instead, she threw her head forward, connecting her forehead with Peggy’s with a sickening crack. Peggy stumbled back, but had the advantage of knowing exactly where everything was in the kitchen. She didn’t need to look to get the pan from the stove, sitting and waiting for breakfast to be cooked up in a few hours, and swing it around.

Dottie threw a hand up just in time to keep the pan from connecting with her skull, and grabbed Peggy’s arm with her free one, grappling and forcing her to drop the pan with a clatter.

“Who are you?” Peggy ground out between her teeth, grabbing a fistful of hair and using that to hold Dottie in her frame of vision.

Dottie countered with a leg sweep, sending Peggy toppling over and off her feet. Peggy didn’t let go, though, and Dottie went down with her, landing them both between the island and the counter. “Just a concerned neighbor,” Dottie managed to huff out, pushing with her legs to try to get the upper hand and roll on top of Peggy. “Thought I saw a robber.”

“How kind,” Peggy grunted, managing to get her hand on a corner of the cabinet and use the leverage to get a leg out so she could knee the woman in the chest. Dottie lost her breath, leaving room for Peggy to pounce once again as she stumbled to stand and move away from her. Peggy started to move towards her again just as Steve rushed through the door of the kitchen, eyes wide and in nothing more than his pajama pants.

Steve’s arrival somewhat stymied Dottie. She paused, still trying to catch her breath, with Peggy huffing beside her. Steve looked between the two women and Peggy stared at him, disbelief in her eyes. “Her, please!”

Steve snatched Dottie around the waist and lifted her off her feet, keeping his head away from her flailing arms as she struggled. Peggy pulled the tie from her robe, using it to secure her hands behind her back once Steve had set her in one of the kitchen chairs.

“Still plan on sticking to your story,” Peggy huffed, sitting across from her as Steve stood guard, “or are you going to tell us what we need to know?”

Dottie smiled like a shark, her red, tearing eyes fighting the visual she wanted to present. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Peggy and Steve shared a look, and without a word he slipped out of the kitchen, headed back to the bedroom.

Dottie watched as he returned only moments later with a shirt and shoes to go with the pants, and a very brightly painted shield on his arm. He stepped in the kitchen and handed Peggy her gun before he disappeared out the front door.

Dottie winced; her eyes painful. “Betty, is it? Are you two even married?”

“Does it matter?” Peggy asked pragmatically, rounding the woman and checking her bindings. “I think what matters here is that you’re hiding something and I’d very much like to know what it is.”

“Do you have twin beds? Or just one big bed?” Dottie asked dreamily. “If I could have that in my bed…” she hummed, the salacious tone somewhat ineffective when combined with her sniffles.

“Are you here on behalf of Hydra?” Peggy asked, picking up a towel and mopping the orange juice from the floor.

Dottie continued rambling. “I mean, that’s one hundred percent American beefcake right there. USDA Prime. And strong.” She sighed happily. “When he picked me up… mmm mmm mmm.”

Peggy rolled her eyes behind the woman, picking the pan from the floor. “What about that man you’re with?”

“Oh, he’s about to have his day ruined.” Dottie laughed manically. “You see, when that Greek God of a man of yours riled him up about Captain America, he wasn’t lying. He gets riled up. Mostly because he hates him so much.” She laughed again. “When he wakes up and sees that shield over him… oh, he might just have a heart attack.”

Peggy checked the robe tie as she passed again, knowing it was hardly enough to secure someone who knew what they were doing before she opened the broom closet and pushed out the fake wall. “Last chance to give me anything before I throw you to the wolves.”

Dottie just sat, head held high, eyes still watering.

“Have it your way.” Peggy reached in and pulled out a beacon, tapping it twice. “The cavalry will be here shortly.”

~*~

Steve didn’t exactly feel fantastic about waking the old man up, but when he started cursing in Russian at him and pulled a gun from under his pillow, Steve reassessed his position.

He still felt bad when he had to knock him out though.

~*~

Peggy stood at the doorway, watching the rest of the SSR team pack the surveillance equipment away and hurry the rented furniture back in the truck as the forensics team was going over Dottie’s house. Dottie was safely in custody and Peggy would be interrogating her tomorrow at the SSR when everything was back to normal. It had been only four days since they moved in, but Peggy could admit, at least to herself, that she’d enjoyed playing house.

Steve came up behind her, his hands still at his sides rather than at her hips. They’d set clear ground rules when it came to the office and the SSR, and that meant no touching in front of co-workers. The absence of his hands when he was so close was causing the hairs on her arms to stand at attention. “What do you think about suburbia?” she questioned lightly, though it weighed heavily on her mind.

“Well, when there aren’t sleeper Hydra Agents hiding in it, it seems pleasant enough to me.” He shrugged, leaning on the doorjamb to look at her. “I grew up in the city, but I’m not attached to that as some idyllic idea of what life should be. Might be nice to have a little garden, some grass to cut, a front yard to build a snowman in and rake leaves…”

Peggy jutted her chin out the to Smythe house, where, like everyone else on the street, Dan and Laura were looking out the window, trying to get every bit of gossip they could. “Neighbors being neighborly.”

Steve dropped his voice. “I think we’d do well in someplace like this.”

Peggy smiled up at him before turning back to the men in the yard. “Agreed.”

“It should be bigger, though, to make room for the kids.” He nudged her with his elbow, a smile threatening to break out on his face. “Four, at least.”

Peggy raised her eyebrows at him. “Two.”

“Only two?” He asked, partially teasing and partially actually let down.

Peggy turned so the men in the yard couldn’t see or hear what she was saying. “Will you be popping them out then? Because until you are, I think the person actually carrying the children should have her opinion weighed slightly more.”

He nodded, eyebrows together tightly. “Point taken.”

She stepped closer, nudging him with her shoulder. “Perhaps we start with one, and see how we do, hum?” She pushed past him, the bump intentional and flirty. “Besides, I’m still waiting on that ring.”

Steve smiled out at the front yard, shoving his hands in his pockets. Good thing the ring was sitting back in his apartment in the top drawer of his dresser. Seeing as this little test run had gone well, maybe he’d pop the question sooner rather than later.

Domestic bliss and international espionage… Steve couldn’t think of anything he’d like more.

#steggy secret santa #Steggy Bingo Bash #superhero-daugthers11 #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic

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neonlights92 · 5 years ago

Text

CHANGE: Chapter VI

When the feud between EXO and Bangtan escalates beyond control Bangtan’s leader Kim Taehyung sees only one solution: a marriage of convenience between a member of Bangtan and a member of EXO. Park Jimin was not born into Bangtan but has slowly become an intrinsic part of Taehyung’s trusted inner circle.

And that is how Jimin finds himself married to you; EXO leader Xiumin’s little sister. You’re not like any other woman he’s ever met before; fierce, angry and talented with a switchblade. When you first meet Jimin you’re left angry and disappointed.

Except slowly, things change. And despite yourself, you find your heart warming to the idea of falling in love.

A/N: This is the final chapter of Change! There’s going to be an epilogue - that will also introduce Jungkook’s storyline WOOO - and then that’s it. Hope you enjoyed the ride, and that you’re looking forward to Jungkook’s story next!!

WARNINGS: Language and themes of violence and death

Your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your throat. Jimin’s body crumpled over, and you raced to the ground, pulling him into your arms.

“Jimin,” You felt tears rushing to your eyes, “Jimin talk to me.” His head lolled to the side as sweat began to pour down his forehead. You could hear chaos around you but all you could focus on was the man in your arms.

“Shit, Jimin.” Your eyes moved to his stomach, and you noticed the blood seeping through his shirt, “Help me, someone please.” There were tears racing down your cheeks as you pushed his shirt up, wincing in horror at the mangled state of the bullet wound. You needed to stop the bleeding. You needed to get the bullet out. You needed to think.

You ripped the bottom of your own shirt and moved to make a tourniquet, wrapping it around Jimin’s waist as quickly as you could. You needed to get him to a hospital before it was too late.

Somebody crouched down beside you and you turned to meet gazes with Jungkook, who’s brow was drawn together in a fierce scowl. He assessed Jimin quickly, eyes raking over his friend’s figure.

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” Jungkook’s voice was like stone, “We need to get him to the doctor.”

“No. He needs a hospital.” Your throat was raw from tears.

“They’ll ask questions-”

“I don’t fucking care,” You growled, “Pull whatever strings you have to. He needs the hospital.”

Jungkook’s eyes were dark, but he nodded, once, tightly. You moved away as Jungkook bent down to scoop Jimin up into his arms, rushing towards the front door of the warehouse and stepping out into the cool, crisp air.

“Yoongi bring the van around.” Jungkook’s voice crackled into the earpiece nestled around his head, “Jimin’s been shot.”

For a moment, everything faded, as you realised what this meant. Stepping into a van with Jimin and Jungkook and Yoongi. It meant you were truly leaving your life as Y/N from EXO behind. This was it.

You turned slowly, to take in the very last moment of your time with EXO, and your heart curled at the sight before you. Sehun and Bakehyun had been forced to their knees, along with a number of other members of EXO. You watched as Taehyung snarled, his jaw as hard as flint.

Before you could see anymore, you heard the sound of wheels screeching, and turned to see a black van pull up. The back door opened, and Namjoon and Jin held the portal open, allowing Jungkook to rest Jimin’s body on the floor of the van. As Jungkook moved to the front with Yoongi, you crawled into the back, arms coming to cradle your husband’s head. His eyes fluttered.

“Jimin, Jimin can you hear me?” Your voice was shaking as you felt the van jump to life, “Please, please baby. Please just answer me.”

He moaned something, and you used the sleeve of your shirt to pat away the sweat on his forehead.

“I can’t lose you,” You whimpered, resting your forehead against his, “Please Jimin. I can’t.”

You could hear others discussing which hospital to take him to - could hear the panic in their voices as they decided what to do next, but you tried to focus all of your attention on your husband.

His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and he groaned in pain again.

“I’m so sorry Jimin. I’m so sorry.” You were crying now, but you didn’t care. The old you - the person who was colder than ice, who held everyone at a distance - she was gone now. You were a different person.

The man in your arms had changed you. If he died, your heart would shrivel up and die along with him. How could you live without Jimin?

You felt your chest tighten, “We’re going to get you help, okay? Please just hold on baby. Just a little while longer.”

The car careened to a stop, and you felt everything joly. Jimin groaned once more.

“It’s okay baby. It’s okay.”

“We’re here,” This came from Yoongi as the back door swung open, and Jungkook moved to carry your husband once more.

You followed them outside, hands shaking as your eyes stayed trained to Jimin. He shifted in Jungkook’s arms, clearly in agony, and your heart wrenched.

You’d seen this so many times - the fever, the sweats, the pain. This was how infection started. This was how death happened.

No. No. Not your husband. Not your Jimin.

He had to pull through.

You raced into the hospital as Namjoon called the attention of the nurses at the front desk.

“Please! Someone come help us, our friend’s been shot.”

And then suddenly, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Like you had been removed from the scenario, and you were just a visitor, watching from the outside.

You watched as a nurse raced to Jungkook, checking on Jimin’s vitals.

You watched as two more nurses rushed Jimin onto a gurney, ripping open his t-shirt, and assessing his wound.

You watched as Jimin tossed and turned, his eyes glazed over when they finally opened and connected with your own.

You watched as a doctor hurried towards you, telling you in rushed tones that your husband needed surgery.

You watched as they wheeled Jimin towards the surgery room, your feet following their movements as you gripped your husband’s limp hand.

You watched as the nurse told you you’d have to wait outside, that you would be the first one to be told of Jimin’s progress.

You watched as the hospital doors swung shut, and you were left alone, scared and vulnerable.

And then, finally, you were no longer just watching, you were there and everything came into startling clarity, as you fell to your knees and began to weep.

You sat staring at the stark white hospital wall.

The styrofoam cup of coffee in your hands had long since gone cold.

It had been almost seven hours of waiting.

Nobody had spoken a word to you.

You’d heard them talking to one another in low, dull voices. Jin had disappeared after the third hour, no doubt to clean up any messes this visit to the hospital would cause. He’d given you a sympathetic look upon his departure, and even a half-hearted smile.

Your face was like a mask.

Seven hours. Nobody had come to tell you about Jimin.

Was that good news? You weren’t sure.

“Y/N.”

You looked up at the sound of your name, watching as Jungkook took a seat beside you.

His hair was messed up- you’d seen him tug his hands through it a ridiculous amount of times - and his eyes were dark with worry.

“Yes?” You croaked, voice lost in your tiredness.

“The guys and I we just… We want to say thank you.” He told you, sincerely, “Thank you for what you did for Jimin. If it wasn’t for you, he might not have made it.”

You didn’t tell him that he still might not. That just because he was in surgery didn’t mean he was going to make it.

No. You couldn’t think like that.

Instead you nodded, sharply, “I did it because I love him.” The words fell out of you without hesitation.

“I know,” He answered, “And if it’s any consolation… You’re one of us now. Truly. You’re as much a part of Bangtan as any one of us. You saved our brother. We can never thank you enough.”

Your eyes welled up with tears.

You’d never had a family. Not even with Xiumin. You’d always been a strategy for him - right down to his very last breath. But now… Things were different.

“Thank you,” You whispered, as a tear fell down your cheek.

You didn’t move to wipe it away. Your sadness was no longer a weakness.

Suddenly, the door in front of you swung open, and a young nurse appeared.

You shot up, heart pounding.

“Mrs Park? Y/N?”

“Yes. That’s me,” You replied immediately, “I’m Jimin’s wife. Is he okay?” You tried to read her expression. Was she about to tell you that the love of your life had died?

She smiled, softly, “He’s stable.”

Your breath rushed out of you at her words. You felt as if your chest was caving in from relief.

“He’s sleeping right now, from the anaesthetics, but we can take you to his room if you’d like.”

You nodded furiously and turned to Jungkook, whose face was lit up by a genuine smile.

“I’ll tell the others. Go be with your husband.”

“Thank you, Jungkook. For everything.”

His smile widened, and you swivelled back around, nodding at the nurse who led you through the double doors and down the winding hallway. She didn’t say a word; and neither did you.

You were too afraid to speak. Too afraid that anything you said might come out mangled and scared.

You’d almost lost Jimin. Your Jimin.

But he was safe. He was safe. You kept repeating these words to yourself, like a mantra.

He was safe.

She stopped in front of one of the doors and gestured inside, “This is it.”

You took a deep, calming breath, and watched as the nurse opened the portal, almost as if in slow motion. The first thing you noticed was the smell.

It was sterile; like manufactured lemons, and it almost burned your nostrils.

The next thing you noticed was the beeping.

Beep...Beep… Beep. You recognised that sound.

A heart monitor.

Finally your eyes moved to connect with the lithe body lying down on the hospital bed. Your Jimin.

The nurse smiled as you stepped past her, trying not to shake as you made your way over to Jimin, heart thumping in your chest so wildly, you thought it might jump out. He was lying there, stock still, his eyes fluttered closed. His skin was so pale, so soft, and all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him.

“He won’t be awake for a few more hours, probably. But you’re welcome to wait.” You turned to give the nurse a smile and a nod.

“Thank you.” You told her, tears welling up behind your eyes. It didn’t matter whether she’d been there during Jimin’s surgery or not. All that mattered was that they’d saved him.

She nodded, and then clicked the door shut, allowing you your privacy. You ran a hand along the length of Jimin’s nose, watching as his skin dipped under the pressure of your fingers.

“I love you,” You whispered, feeling tears fall as you took a seat on the armchair in the corner of the room.

You would wait until he woke up.

Some time after midnight, you fell asleep, curled up into yourself and feeling warmer than you had in weeks.

Jimin was going to be okay. And he was yours now.

You woke up to the sound of someone calling your name. Your eyes blinked open and you shot up. Was your husband awake?

But when your gaze connected with the figure hovering above you, you relaxed. It wasn’t Jimin.

“Taehyung.” You said softly, “What are you doing here?”

Taehyung’s face was grim, “Yesterday was… A mess.”

The words fell on you like concrete.

You nodded, wordlessly.

“Any alliance we had with EXO is now completely severed. Your brother…” He trailed off, as if he was unsure what to tell you. After a moment, his eyes steeled, “He’s gone.”

You pursed your lips. Your heart clenched for just a moment, and then it was like release.

Xiumin was gone.

“Choosing to stay by Jimin’s side… It means choosing a life with Bangtan. It means turning your back on EXO.” He tugged a hand through his hair, “I don’t know what the future holds for EXO, or for Bangtan… But I know that we would be happy to have you on our side. You proved to me… To all of us, how deep your loyalty runs. Bangtan is your home, if you wish it to be.”

You nodded, once.

“Bangtan has been my home since I married Jimin.” You replied, “I am honoured.”

Taehyung’s face seemed to relax. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry to do this here with Jimin the way he is…”

“I understand,” You shrugged, and bit your bottom lip, “This is the way things are. These are the things you must do as Capo, Taehyung. You have my respect, and my loyalty.”

He nodded.

“Thank you… For saving his life.” Taehyung’s lips pursed, “Jimin means a lot to me. And the rest of the boys.”

“He means a lot to me too,” You replied, throat raw with emotion.

“Please let us know when he wakes up.”

“Of course.”

And then, with the closest thing to a smile you’d ever seen Taehyung exhibit, he slipped out of the room, leaving you alone once more with your husband.

In the coming hours nurses came and went, checking on his vitals, and his pulse. Making sure his IV was well connected. Asking if you were alright.

Other members of Bangtan brought you snacks and coffee - Jin, Jungkook, Hoseok.

They never said more than a few words to you, and their eyes were worried as they watched their friend’s motionless body on the hospital bed.

And then some time, in the early morning, Jimin’s eyes blinked open.

At first, you didn’t even realise. You’d been nodding off yourself, when you heard him clear his throat.

You bolted up, rushing to his side, and placing a gentle hand on his forehead.

“Jimin? Jimin?”

It took a few moments, but his eyes focused on you, and his lips lifted into the smallest of smiles.

“Now I know I’m dead,” He croaked, “There’s no way you’re not an angel.”

You rolled your eyes at his cheesiness, and swiped a thumb across his cheek, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just got shot.” He grunted, trying to sit up and wincing from the pain.

“Don’t do that.” You scolded him, “You need to rest.”

He turned his head to face you, “C’mere.”

You knew what he was asking as you climbed in carefully beside him, your eyes tracing every line of his face, as tears flooded your cheeks. He brought a shaking hand up to your skin and wiped them away, tutting.

“None of that.” He whispered, “I’m here now.”

You pressed the softest of kisses on his mouth, feeling like you might very well crumble to pieces if you didn’t.

When you pulled back, his eyes were gentle and warm.

“Will you tell me what happened?” He asked after a moment, pressing his fingers to your hip.

“Xiumin shot you,” You answered, voice shaking, “In the stomach. The boys… Jungkook, he wanted to take you to the doctor, but I’ve seen wounds like what you have before. I knew you needed the hospital. It wasn’t up for discussion. We brought you here, and the doctors spent hours working on you. I just waited outside, I couldn’t eat or drink anything, I was so worried. I didn’t know if we’d gotten you here on time. God Jimin there was so much blood… And you weren’t responsive, you were barely lucid when we arrived. I thought that was it,” You kissed his lips again, moving to the corner of his mouth and his eyes, his nose and his cheeks, “I would’ve never survived it.”

You took a deep, shaking breath in, feeling like your insides were caving.

You’d been holding it together for hours but now you could finally feel safe.

Jimin ran his thumb across your lips, and you felt your heart jump. He always treated you like you were made of glass or diamonds.

“And you have to believe me Jimin, I was always going to tell you about Xiumin’s plan-”

“I believe you, Y/N.” He smiled softly, “I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

You shook your head furiously, tears openly running down your cheeks. Jimin was crying too, and you felt your heart flutter at the look on his face.

You loved him so much.

“You mean the world to me,” Your voice was ragged and sharp, “You’re my family.”

“And you’re mine.”

He pressed a kiss against your forehead, and you curled further into his arms.

“I love you,” You whispered against the skin of his collarbone.

You said those words for the first time in your adult life. For the first time since your parents died.

He nodded, “I know baby. I love you too.”

You cried harder at that, even though you’d known - probably for much longer than you’d ever admit to yourself - hearing him say that made you feel like you finally belonged.

Like you were finally home.

“When I found that file… I was so mad.” He pulled back a little, studying your face, “But I think I just wanted a reason to protect myself. I saw how much I cared about you - and I was afraid you would never feel the same way for me.”

You felt your heart break at his words. You’d been so cold with him at the start. You’d made things so difficult. What else was he meant to think?

“You’re the first person in my life who actually knows me, Jimin.” You bit your lip, “You know every single part of me, and you love me anyway.”

“Of course I do. People like me and you… We’re made for each other.”

You snorted, “You’re so corny.”

“But you love me for it.”

You smiled, for the first time in a very long time, feeling completely content.

“Yeah. I love you for it.”

Jimin was a fussy patient.

You hadn’t expected it, really, considering how sweet he usually was. But he fussed over everything. The hospital food was disgusting. His bandages were too itchy. The sheets weren’t thick enough.

You spent the next two weeks at the hospital by his side, as he tested your patience to the absolute very limit. You never complained. You never told him to shut up (no matter how badly you wanted to). Instead you faithfully changed his food until he was satisfied. You cleaned his bandages as often as he wanted you to. You brought him duvets from home to satisfy his shifting body temperature.

And on the day he was discharged, the nurse who had been keeping an eye on him wished you good luck.

“Will you stop trying to do everything yourself,” You told him angrily one evening, when you caught him trying to have a shower on his own, “You know the doctor said you can’t get the wound wet. You need my help.”

He rolled his eyes, “I am not a child.”

“Well you’re acting like it.” You answered sharply, “What the fuck’s gotten into you Jimin? I have played every part the doting wife the last two weeks, and all you’ve done is gone the extra mile to aggravate me.”

He dropped the towel he’d been holding and went to sit on the edge of your bed. He was still fully clothed (how he expected to take his clothes off on his own when he could barely lift his arms past his elbow was beyond you) and he sighed heavily.

“I miss fighting with you.”

You blinked, “What?”

“I miss fighting with you,” He grunted, avoiding your eyes, “I found it - find it - hot, okay?”

You scoffed, “Are you telling me you have spent the last two weeks trying to goad me into an argument?”

“Maybe.” He lifted his eyes to meet your own and clicked his tongue, “Stupid idea?”

“I can’t believe you Jimin. I’ve spent the last two fucking weeks bending over backwards to make you happy, and you were just being an asshole about everything on purpose? Fuck you.”

He flushed, “Please?”

You rolled your eyes, “Are you seriously turned on right now?”

He shrugged, helplessly, “You always turn me on, Y/M/”

Despite yourself, you barked out a laugh.

“I’m still pissed off at you.” You warned him, as you moved towards him.

“I’m counting on it,” He smirked and your stomach flipped anxiously.

With a little help, you leaned him back on the bed, propping him up against the pillows and smiling at the excited look on his face.

“I’m going to have to do all the work, aren’t I?”

His smirk widened, “I guess so.”

You flushed hotly, as you carefully undid his trousers, pulling them down gently, and moving his boxers out of the way too.

“You’re already hard.” You gushed, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging on it slightly. He moaned and arched his back.

“Careful,” You warned, worried for his wound, “I don’t want you to tear the stitches.”

“I won’t,” He assured you, “C’mon baby. I miss being inside you.”

You melted at that, pushing your panties down your legs, and using the opportunity to slide on top of him. You leaned down, pressing a hot kiss against his mouth, swallowing his moan as you started to move.

“I love you,” You whispered, holding a hand against his beating heart, “You know that, right?”

He tugged a gentle hand through your hair, and nodded, eyes boring into yours, “Forever and always, Switchblade.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname.

For the first time in your marriage, the two of you openly made love to one another. You worshipped your husband, peppering kisses across his skin, and praising the things he did to you.

Your husband Park Jimin. You loved him so much it was almost painful.

When the two of you were happy and sated, you rolled off him carefully, and he pulled you into his arms.

“For better or for worse Park,” You whispered against his neck, and he laughed, “You’re stuck with me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Park Jimin had changed you for the better.

And thank God for that.

FIN

#bangtan #arranged marriage au #park jimin #jimin #bts #mafia au #romance #smut #fluff #angst #kpop #taehyung #seokjin #hoseok #jungkook #namjoon #yoongi #love #mob au

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kiriluvbot · 4 years ago

Text

hidden in the sand pt. i

in which feelings are discovered under early morning light.

—

i do not have a crush on shoto todoroki.

the boy in question takes a deep breath, muscled shoulders rising as he starts to shift. his head pops up, a mess of pink cheeks and disastrous, disgustingly endearing messy hair, and he squints at the light pouring in from the window.

all the air is knocked from sero’s lungs.

oh shit.

i have a crush on shoto todoroki.

yeah. this is that story.

—

you’ve heard a thousand love stories told a thousand different ways, with teary eyed confessions on a battlefield or explosive professions of adoration under a moonlit sky, but this story, however, is not that story at all.

this is a story of an extended hand, a knowing smile, a spot saved on the couch. it’s bumping shoulders in the hall, eye contact in a dark room, whispers over the phone. it’s one boy who never quite learned how to love, and one who has an abundance of love to share.

it’s learning how to be gentle, how to accept gentleness. it’s falling slowly, smoothly, oblivious.

it’s doing something completely mundane, like reading manga at one in the morning on a school night. it’s hearing a muffled bit of laughter, it’s catching the light in their eyes, it’s seeing a special smile they’ve reserved only for you, and realizing: oh shit.

there is no particular starting point, but it goes a little bit like this:

—

“poor little shoto todoroki. how tragic.”

heat and hate and rage washes over him, suffocating, crushing, inescapable. hands clasp as his ankles, his elbows, his throat. the pressure is unbearable, his skin is roasting, it’s falling apart, he’s crumbling at the seams, he’s—

“there’s nowhere to run.”

it’s too hot too hot too hot—

todoroki jolts up, sweat gluing his shirt to his spine, blanket trapping his legs to the bed. it’s too much, too hot. there’s no air—

he tosses the blanket back and jumps out of bed, tearing the shirt over his head, throwing it as far away as possible as his chest heaves.

“what’ll your friends think when—“

“shut up, shut up,” todoroki hisses, doubling forward until he’s on his knees, hands tearing through red and white hair. “you’re fine. you’re fine.”

it’s hard to breathe.

help, call for help, don't just sit here, don't just—

scrambling, todoroki crawls across the floor, tossing blankets and pillows out of the way. he finds his phone and unlocks it, ignoring the shake in his hands, the way his fingers can’t seem to hit the right buttons, and opens his contacts.

“fine, fine, fine,” he mutters. the clock says 2:37 am. shit. he takes the deepest breath his lungs will allow and hits call on the only name he’s sure might be awake.

one ring. doubles over again. two rings. presses his forehead into the floorboards. three rings. his throat catches.

“todoroki, holy shit, dude, whats—“

“sero, oh—“ another deep breath. “sero. i know it’s late, i’m sorry, i just—“

“woah, woah, slow down. todoroki, what’s wrong?”

“nightmare,” todoroki hisses, leaning back up and clutching the phone with both hands. “wasn't fast enough. sorry—“

“hey,” sero interrupts him, sounding more and more awake by the second. “don't apologize, okay? you’re gonna be alright. listen, you need to get your breathing under control. i’ll help you.”

sero’s voice alone, anyone’s voice at all, makes todoroki feel grounded to the earth. sero is calm and cool as he helps todoroki with his breathing, counting and humming. when he’s finally able to see straight, todoroki sits cross legged on his bed, still gripping the phone tight.

“sorry for waking you up,” todoroki mumbles, relishing in the clearness of his lungs. every nerve still shakes. “um—didn’t know what else to do.”

what he doesn’t say is: for some reason, you always know exactly what to say to help people feel better, in any situation at all.

sero is quiet for a brief moment. todoroki can almost hear him smile. “like i said, man, you don’t need to apologize.” a pause. “you sure you’re alright?”

“yeah.” todoroki runs a cool hand down his face. his lights are on now. he sits back on his bed, shoulder blades meeting the wall. on the other side, sero sits in a similar position. “i’m okay now.”

“if you need anything else,” sero murmurs, voice gentle, “anything at all, you can—you can come to me. doesn’t matter what it is. or what time it is.”

something about sero’s tone, his word choice, something about the late hour, about the nerves still dancing just beneath todoroki’s skin… he smiles, in spite of himself.

—

they never really talk about it after they hang up. not off the phone, and certainly not in broad daylight. talking about it meant admitting it out loud and—well, todoroki has a hard time thinking about any nightmares at all after he finally catches his breath. it’s something he’d rather ignore. sero understands.

“did you have another nightmare?”

“please just—talk to me. about anything else.”

shortly after that, classes got harder, tests more difficult, and sero turned to todoroki for aid. smoothly, nonchalantly, of course, because sero didn’t need anyone to know that if he didn’t get extra studying in he might just drown. he had briefly considered asking to join kirishima on his study sessions with bakugo before he saw how the blonde would take to literally beating the knowledge into kirishima’s poor head.

sort of unrelated, sero had stumbled in on them in the kitchen blushing under those buzzing fluorescent lights, practically nose to nose.

bakugo was furious, furious enough to deny sero extra help with his homework, that’s for sure. then there was kirishima, who couldn’t look sero in the eye for the remainder of that day.

sero’s still not sure why both of them had looked so embarrassed. it’s not like he hasn’t noticed they’d been fooling around, stealing glances across the common room and holding hands under the cafeteria table for weeks on end now. did they honestly think they were being sneaky?

not only that, but sero’s pretty sure bakugo’ll never let anyone else into his room aside from kirishima. not to study, and certainly not to peek at his limited edition all might posters. sero’s positive he wasn’t supposed to know about the posters, but kirishima kinda has a loud mouth.

and anyway, todoroki is much more patient.

“have you gotten number twelve yet?”

“hm? oh, uh, no. i’m kinda confused on this part right here, but—“

“i’ll walk you through it.”

most of the time, the studying took place downstairs in the common area. however, there were times when downstairs was just too loud. so naturally...

todoroki’s room is quiet. peaceful. also super fuckin’ fancy. needless to say, work is easier to accomplish in the peace of his space.

except for when it’s not.

“sero, focus on your work.”

“wh-huh? i’m focusing! just—“

“you were trying to balance that pencil on your nose.”

“still counts as focusing, roki.”

turns out todoroki makes a great tutor when sero actually pays attention.

—

sero takes it upon himself to start sharing his favorite manga after catching todoroki in the courtyard curled up with a familiar cover peeking through his fingers.

they liked to read a lot of the same things, they’d learned, but sero always had something new to show todoroki, and todoroki always had a classic to introduce to sero. it was a good back and forth, an excuse to escape their loud classmates and sit in companionable silence and read until they felt they’d go cross eyed.

todoroki sits on sero’s multicolored rug, hugging his knees to his chest. his chin rests on one knee, idly flipping the page of some romance manga sero claims is the best. his eyes find the spidery boy twisting around in his hammock, sticking his legs in the air and shifting until his head is upside down.

it’s an odd position, and todoroki has no idea why he refuses to sit still, but sero dips his head even further until his hair meets the floor, until dark eyes find blue and gray.

then he smiles, and time seems to slow.

“gettin’ to the good part yet?” sero asks, kicking his legs back and forth above him. his face starts to turn a little red. todoroki’s never really seen his forehead before.

todoroki blinks. time returns to normal. he goes back to his page. “all the blood’s rushing to your head.”

sero doesn’t seem to notice todoroki’s brief pause. if he does, he doesn’t spend too much time thinking about it. he smiles until todoroki considers asking if his cheeks hurt.

“you're deflecting. that’s deflecting, right? it’s gotta be. you’re totally deflecting, roki.”

maybe being upside down is affecting sero’s eyesight, but are todoroki’s cheeks a little pink?

it’s an excuse for them both to disconnect from the world, to indulge in something unreal, to explore another world with all its wonders and secrets and forbidden loves.

—

sero is in the middle of popping ungodly amounts of popcorn when todoroki makes his way into the common area. his classmates are either chasing each other around the couches, already trying to decide on a movie, or on the phone convincing the rest of them upstairs to come down and join them.

sero grins to himself when he thinks he hears mineta’s sly voice followed by a series of warning sparks from their friendly neighborhood bakugo. iida and kirishima’s voices follow soon after.

“do you need help in here?” a voice asks, startling sero out of his half daze.

“jesus, dude!” he chokes, clutching his chest. “you scared the hell out of me!”

todoroki is unphased, sidling up to sero and taking off the plastic covers of the remaining three bags of popcorn he still needs to pop. “guess i should’ve knocked?” he says, lip quirked just a bit.

after sero catches his breath (there’s an unholy screech from the living room that could only come from kaminari), he jostles todoroki with his shoulder.

“i saved us a spot,” sero says.

by saved, he means he stretched two long pieces of tape across one of the smaller couches in a big X shape. it was todoroki’s favorite couch, and sero was tired of seeing him show up last and have to sit on the floor. kaminari had been more than offended when sero told him the spot was already reserved.

sero didn’t see bakugo eyeball him suspiciously.

“i didn't know any of these heathens actually honored saved seats,” todoroki replied, working side by side with sero.

sero grins again, eyes bright. it’s warm, radiant. it’s lethal. todoroki bites his cheek to keep from grinning back.

“they’ll honor it if they don’t wanna get taped to the ceiling in their sleep, don’t you think?”

todoroki laughs at that. together, they exit the kitchen with their arms full of their own snacks. todoroki’s eyes find a giant X made out of tape on his favorite couch, and dips his head a little to smile to himself.

mina and kaminari sprint up to sero, who grins easily at them, too. kaminari has sparks in his eyes, but that might just be excess energy from whatever twisted game of tag they’d been playing before todoroki and sero exited the kitchen.

“are those for me?” kaminari gasps. “oh, hanta, you’re too kind!”

sero turns his arms away, rolling his eyes lightly. mina has already snuck behind him and is trying to tease a can of pop out of his grasp. he attempts to twist, tries to back away before they get their grubby little hands on his hard earned snacks, when he backs into kirishima instead. the redhead is already smirking mischievously before he joins the other two offenders on their quest to rob sero blind.

bakugo blows right past them, naturally. “you’re in my way, damn kids!”

todoroki smiles at that, too. damn kids. there’s a lot to smile about tonight. he takes away the tape X and sits cross legged on his saved spot. momo has the remote to the tv, and jirou is whispering movie titles in her ear.

“this seat taken?” sero asks, but he plops down next to the multicolored boy anyway. he managed to make it to his spot with nearly all his snacks. mina got a hold of the popcorn. todoroki notices, and offers to share with him.

it takes them awhile, but eventually the whole class makes their way into the common area, strewn across seats and the floor, snacks and drinks everywhere. they decide on some ridiculous romantic comedy movie. on their way in, midoriya and uraraka both ruffle todoroki’s hair as they walk past, and kirishima plants a kiss at the top of sero’s head.

sero and todoroki spend the entire night whispering their predictions for the end of the movie, making fun of terrible monologuing, brushing knees and shoving shoulders. it’s comfortable, easy. it’s fun.

“stupid icyhot,” bakugo grumbles to kirishima later on that night, in the quiet of kirishima’s room. “stupid soy sauce.”

“hm?”

“they’re both fuckin’ stupid.”

“oh yeah?” sometimes it takes bakugo a minute to figure out what exactly he’s trying to say. kirishima waits for him, always.

“fucking—dumbasses don’t even realize.”

kirishima feels his lips threaten to split in a grin, sitting at the edge of his bed. he watches bakugo pace. “you noticed, too?”

bakugo turns to him, eyes ablaze as they always were. he’s just within arms length. “of course i realized. only an idiot wouldn’t notice that. and they’re fuckin’ stupid! it’s gonna be a pain in the ass to watch them—watch them just—“

“dance around it?” kirishima suggests.

“fuckin’ stupid,” bakugo hisses again.

then when he throws his hands up, kirishima wraps his arms around bakugo’s thighs and pulls him close. it’s instinct at this point, to pull him closer, pull him out of his head.

they both used to be the idiots in question, dancing around the truth, around what they really wanted.

“give them time,” kirishima mumbles, cheek pressed to bakugo’s stomach. the blond’s hands rest on his shoulders. “they'll figure it out if and when they need to.”

kirishima tilts his head back, observing bakugo’s frown.

“if i have to watch those two losers pine—“ bakugo pretends to gag, sticking out his tongue.

laughing gently and taking bakugo’s collar, kirishima pulls him down until their lips meet. he kisses him like he means it, to remind him that they were both pining losers at one point.

in his own bed down the hall, sero sleeps soundly, curled around todoroki’s favorite manga. he’s read it three times now, but it never seems to get old. just next door, todoroki sleeps with his back pressed to the wall separating their rooms. he doesn’t dream, not this time.

—

part two on my account !

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 4 years ago

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Alright kiddos, it is time for! The last chapter of the opening arcs / battle trial! Wherein we continue Katsuki's mental breakdown! <3

I’m considering doing some kind of end-of-arc(s) summary / personal thoughts thing after this as a way of sort of compiling my thoughts on the story as a whole so far, as well as just being open to answering your general ideas and open questions / suggestions about the story and characters and whatnot so far (and I guess to come?) So have at it, I want to know what you all think about these first eleven chapters as an introduction to the series / characters / plot / whatnot.

[No. 11 - Bakugou’s Starting Line]

That is… a lot less damage than I thought there was. Like, it still looks pretty bad, but not to the point of ‘it’s going to collapse if someone breathes funny’ bad like I was thinking before. The active explosion of the panels before this probably added to that impression. Also, the building is a LOT smaller than I thought it was?

And speaking of Katsuki’s mental breakdown! He’s just standing there in complete shock while Tenya is comforting a vomiting Ochako, and Izuku is passed out on the floor. Someone points out that the losing team is almost unscathed while the winners are down for the count - they lost the battle but won the war, so to speak. Tsuyu points out that it’s just training though.

(to the tune of ‘Final Countdown’) It’s a mental breakdown~ (kazoo solo)

But in full seriousness, this is the first true moment we see of his worldview being smashed open. Like, he was definitely shaken with Izuku’s actions back with the sludge villain, but Katsuki was just more quiet and sullen. Here? Here he’s just had one of the pillars he built his entire mindset around - that Izuku was weaker than him - torn down as violently as the wall he blasted open. He is not okay with this. He’s sweating, he’s shaking, he’s probably about five seconds from collapsing to his knees and screaming.

Fortunately, he’s mostly knocked out of his own head by All Might showing up and placing a hand on his shoulder, telling him to head back so he can get graded. Katsuki doesn’t really seem to be listening as All Might goes on about how whether one wins or loses, they can come out ahead by learning from the experience - instead he’s watching as Izuku is taken away on a stretcher by two transpo-bots to the nurse’s office.

In the monitor room, All Might announces that the VIP of the battle was Tenya, much to said boy’s surprise. Katsuki is looking pretty gloomy and stuck in his head, while Ochako is still struggling with the lingering nausea. Tsuyu asks why the VIP isn’t one of the hero team who won, and All Might asks the class if any if them can guess at his reasoning.

Momo raises her had and says she does, and then explains that Tenya had best adapted to the scenario. Katsuki’s actions were motivated by a personal grudge, and his use of destructive attacks indoors was foolish. Izuku’s performance suffered from the same faults. And Ochako lost focus halfway through and her final attack was haphazard - if the weapon had been real, the attack would be unthinkable. Tenya, on the other hand, formed an actual counterstrategy, and thought about what the struggle would be like. His only fault was being too slow to react at the end, and the hero team only won because it was a training exercise with exploitable restraints.

Tenya is touched. Meanwhile, the rest of the class is stunned silent, with All Might shaking because she said it better than he could. He hesitantly adds that Tenya was a bit too stiff, but otherwise she was correct. She huffs and says that they need to start at the bottom and work up - if they don’t cheer each other on, they won’t even become top heroes. Her name is also introduced here, as well as the fact that she’s the number one recommended first year.

How’s Katsuki doing?

Eh… we’ll come back to you in a bit. For now, the other battle trials! Shouto and Shouji (hero team) versus Ojiro and Hagakure (villain team), in a new location. The heroes are both quiet, while Hagakure is getting hyped up and taking off her gloves and boots to go full stealth mode. Ojiro is a bit flustered at that, thinking that it makes sense for someone invisible, but that it feels unethical.

(Which is, I’m guessing, that comment that her ‘hero costume’ is being buck naked, which honestly, I refuse to believe. If the support companies can make a costume for someone who goes impermeable (which, by its own definition, would mean light goes through as well, ergo ‘invisibility’), then she can get one as well. I think she’s just a troll who says the costume is nothing to fluster others - I mean, considering she does like hidden camera shows, and they tend to do those weird stuff to surprise or discomfort people, it would fit in line with her character.)

Anyways, when the hero team is sent in, Shouji is listening in just inside the building with several arm-ears, right before they shift into really concerning-looking mouths to relay information. Shouji tells his partner that one is on the north side of the fourth floor, while the other is on the same floor barefoot - clearly, the invisible one is trying to ambush and capture them. Shouji also gets a title card and an explanation of his quirk, Dupli-arms: he can replicate his own body parts at the tips of his tentacles!

Shouto warns Shouji to get out, since it’s about to ‘get frosty in here’. Their opponents think they’re playing a defensive game, but it means nothing to him. He then proceeds to show off just what he means by ‘frosty’.

Yeah, that’s a bit OP there. Poor Ojiro - and definitely poor Hagakure, who got frozen to the floor with bare feet. Shouto walks in and says to bring it on, but that fighting without the soles of their feet will be painful. All Might and Kirishima are shivering in the monitor room from the cold, with All Might noting that neither Shouto’s ally nor the weapon were harmed when he immobilized the enemy; Kirishima says that he’s too strong.

Hagakure’s hurting where she’s frozen, and Ojiro is freaked out and not even trying to break out as Shouto walks past and puts his left hand of the weapon, giving his team the win. Shouto apologizes to them as the ice steams away, Ojiro shocked to see how quickly the building is warming up. As Shouto finishes melting the ice, he declares that they are in different leagues - and we get his title card!

Number two recommended first year, quirk Half-Hot, Half-Cold (which I think is supposed to have some greater pun or sound better in Japanese? [Hanrei Hannen] I suppose does roll a bit better, but hmmm…) His right side can freeze things and his left can burn. His range and limits are unknown - what a beast!

(Katsuki, meanwhile, is biting his lip to keep himself from saying anything - likely another blow to his preconceived belief that he was the strongest right while he’s trying to come back from the last one.)

We get a brief summary of what the other teams did: Sero and Kirishima played villains and defended with Sero’s tape as traps around the room. Tsuyu went along the walls while Tokoyami had his quirk primed to attack. Jirou scouted with her quirk while Kaminari kept a charge prepped in his hand, and Mina threw a ot of acid around, a bit of which burned Aoyama’s cape.

We transition to the end of the class, with All Might telling everyone well done, and that besides Izuku, there were no serious injuries. He complements their teamwork and says they all did splendidly, considering it was their first exercise. Someone in the class mentions that after Aizawa, a straightforward class that that was almost a letdown. All Might walks away, saying that the teachers are free to have no-nonsense classes if they like, and that he’s off to give Izuku his evaluation, letting them know to get changed out of their costumes and head back to the classroom before he runs off in a hurry. Mineta notes he seems to be in a hurry, but that he’s also so cool.

All Might glances back, seeing Katsuki in the back of the class still in a gloomy state. He thinks about how Katsuki is ‘a bundle of conceit’ and how the most inflated egos are often the most fragile. As a teacher, he needs to give the boy some counseling, but for now, he has to save on his time, due to only having enough strength to get through a single class.

Which, considering All Might’s limit before USJ is three hours, seems a bit weird, so let’s do some math.

The villain teams have five minutes to set up, and the heroes have fifteen to get to the bomb after that - twenty minutes. With five rounds, that’s an even hundred minutes for the exercises, not counting those that ended early. With all the time saved from Shouto’s instant take out and assuming average times for the others, we probably have more like eighty minutes spent on those exercises. Of course, we can then add time for getting to and from the buildings, as well as the assessments of each match and determination of the VIP. So that can probably bumped back up to 100 minutes, maybe closer to 110? Which would just fit within the bounds of a double-class period for Japanese schools (which are fifty minute classes with ten minute breaks in between).

Japanese classes have four periods before lunch and three after. The ‘canon’ schedule has heroics lessons happen THROUGH lunch period, which makes no sense when they need that energy in order to be able to fight. I am also skeptical of fighting right after lunch, when that makes it more likely for them to throw up if they take a bad hit, ergo, the reasonable time period for these lessons is the last two periods of the day - thus giving the kids about an hour for food to digest and energy to get into their systems.

I think this is also added onto with how Izuku doesn’t freak out after this over missing a class, which makes sense if it was the last one. Plus, well, scheduling the most exhausting and injury-prone class at the end of the day means that anyone who needs to rest a while actually can without missing important things - and that the kids won’t be too tired to pay attention to whichever teachers they would otherwise have afterwards.

...right, my original point. All Might is supposed to have three hours, but gets stressed out after using just two hours here. I can get that maybe it’s three hours total, but holding it for two continuously without chances to ‘unflex’ and rest for a bit might be straining on him still? Or maybe he just spent some time that morning doing hero things and so ran out of time a bit early.

Anyways, I think I’ll end this off here, since it’s about halfway and we did get through quite a bit. Next time, we finish off the opening arcs of the series, and then I guess I do some Q&A / personal thoughts so far / narrative analysis / whatever? I guess send in questions or thoughts or whatever you guys have, and I’ll answer them after the next post.

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cordonian-literature · 4 years ago

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wip wednesday :)

hi y’all so i wasn’t tagged (whoops broke the rules) and it’s still kinda early in the day but i wanted to make this post because i’ve been working on a few other fics and wanted to share :)

i’ve been finishing up Aftermath - the reason it’s taking me so long to post chapters is because i initially had a very sad ending planned. i weeped when i was rereading it because i’ve gotten emotionally attached to the characters (what a surprise) and am now rewriting a happier ending. i think there’s like... 3 chapters left (don’t quote me on that, i’m a mess and it could change, but its unlikely).

there’s also two other fic ideas that i had. the first one kinda throws canon out the window - but there are still some elements, like Bertrand and Savannah’s relationship (though it’s extremely altered), the assassination with Olivia’s parents, Godfrey & Barthelemy’s treason... it’s just changed, like Queen Eleanor’s story is different, Leo doesn’t abdicate, Liam and Drake never really became best friends, and MC (Klara/Claire Brooks) leads a double life, keeping both men (and families) away from each other

the second one throws TRH 3 in the trash (even though it already is kinda trash, haha). this would take place during the last chapter of TRH 2 and throw the whole vote stuff out the window - because the farther we go with that, the less it makes sense. basically, Auvernal kidnaps the heir, Barthelemy is involved in it, and Liam and MC (i’m keeping her as Riley Brooks for this one) along with the gang do everything they can to get her back (obviously why wouldn’t they). i thought it would be interesting putting a part of it in the heir’s point of view, since those were kinda funny in some of the recent chapters. nothing too dark or serious (i mean yeah the heir getting kidnapped is serious, but you know what i mean. besides that, there are no major trigger warnings)

both these fics will most likely flop, but i had fun with these ideas and wanted to share

so here we go

✦✧✦✧✦

The Aftermath - Chapter 32

When Bastien enters, his eyes widen as they rest on Boris. He gives Olivia a look.

“Drake,” she tells him, hoping that would be enough of an answer. Bastien frowns. Olivia didn’t know why Drake had done this either. The fool hadn’t given her any information as to what this man had done. Where was she even supposed to start?

Now she was really wishing she had called Jacob to give her a background check.

“So,” she begins, pacing in front of Boris. Bastien was at full attention, closely watching both of them. “What happened between you and Drake?”

Boris spits blood to the opposite side of the room. It drips down the wall. “Call the bastard in here. Tell him to explain.” His accent is thick and his voice is tried.

I probably should, she thinks to herself.

Bastien gives Olivia another look. She nods at him.

“Let us shift the conversation,” Bastien begins. “Can I ask how long you’ve known Lady Riley or her late husband?”

“How is that important?” Boris questions.

“Just curious.” Bastien’s voice remains level.

Boris sighs, then leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. “Potter. I met him in college. He introduced me to Riley-”

“I’m sorry,” Bastien interrupts him. “Who is ‘Potter’?”

“The lovely Theodore Blaise.” Boris lets out a rueful chuckle. “You have not seen him in person? The idiot looks like Harry Potter. Stupid glasses, stupid hair.”

“Alright,” Bastien stops him again. “Continue. When did he introduce you to Riley?”

“New York. That one year. I was visiting before I had to go to... Switzerland? Sweden? One of the two. It was lifetime ago. Can’t remember everything.” He pauses to look around the room. “She was... with your King. We saw her in the park. Theo wanted to see her. We waited for the king to leave her before he went up to her hotel.”

Olivia knew that he was talking about the last night Riley had been with the court. But Boris was drawing out the conversation. She didn’t like how slow Bastien was approaching this. Olivia wanted to draw a knife — she had a new one she was itching to use — and force the answers out of him.

✦✧✦✧✦

Until the End - Prologue

A/N: also i made a thing for this series. it’s not a moodboard. idk what its called. like a banner or whatever? i felt creative and made it. i’ll probably end up making a moodboard too. there are three parts of the series, each part has seven/eight chapters. anyway this looks kinda wack i might not even use it

As we near the stairs, Olivia Nevrakis chases after Maxwell Beaumont, who tumbles down the steps.

“Why are you running?!” Olivia cries after the boy, a long object in her hand.

“Because you have a stick!” he cries after almost tripping over his short, chubby legs.

“What am I gonna do, hit you with it?”

“YES?!” Maxwell screams, a confused and fearful tone in his voice.

As the two reach the bottom of the stairs, Liam emerges from another corridor, laughing after his friends. His hair is a whorl on his head, and his cheeks are flushed pink.

“Hello, Mother!” he says. My son hugs my waist, then reaches to hug his father, but Constantine has already walked on.

I take the boy’s hand and we follow after the King. Near the entrance of the palace stands a man in guard’s uniform, a woman in a denim dress, and two small children.

“Eleanor, Liam,” Constantine begins. “I would like for you two to be introduced to a new member of our security team. Jackson Walker, his wife Bianca, and their children, Drake and Savannah.”

“A pleasure, Your Majesties,” Jackson says as he and his wife bow respectfully. The little girl blinks up at me while Drake looks between Liam and I.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Liam!” My son holds out his hand to Drake.

Constantine audibly coughs. Liam’s hand falls to his side, and his smile falls as well. I knew that the differences in status would not allow Liam to interact with the boy so improperly, but they are just children. I didn’t think there was a reason for such excessive formality.

Bianca slightly nudges her son. In a monotone voice, Drake greets, “Nice to meet you, Prince Liam.”

Liam’s expression lifts. I send a smile in Bianca’s direction, and she hesitantly returns it. Jackson holds eye contact with me a moment longer, a wide grin stretching his face.

Constantine grabs our attention again. “Jackson, you will be primarily working on my wife’s security team. Now if you’ll excuse us, we are expected at dinner. My head of security, Bastien, will lead you through the rest of your orientation. After dinner, you’ll be able to speak to my wife and receive any orders she has for you.”

“Yes, Sire,” Jackson bows his head again, and Constantine leads us away.

Godfrey and his family, along with the Beaumonts, Olivia, and Leo are already seated. They all stand quickly as Constantine comes into the room, giving polite bows.

The moment we sit, there’s a flurry of activity as the servants set our plates in front of us. Adelaide sips on her wine absently. Annabelle fusses over Maxwell, who has cookie crumbs on his fingers and face. Madeleine attempts to get Leo’s attention, but he laughs with Bertrand, the boys giving each other impish smiles. Olivia converses with Liam, taking on a gentle demeanor compared to how she behaved with Maxwell.

“Hostilities between Monterisso and Auvernal are increasing by the day,” I hear Godfrey mention to Constantine.

“The whole of Europe expects them to break out in war,” Barthelemy adds.

“Monterissian and Auvernese citizens anticipate some sort of peace treaty,” Godfrey continues. The men speak as if they are one unit, with one mind. “But other nations have already begun taking sides.”

“The King of Hidar is siding with Monterisso.” Barthelemy motions for a servant to bring him more wine. “But there are rumors that he is only doing so after receiving threats.”

“Most nations are waiting for Cordonia and Monaco for their decisions for who to ally with.”

When Barthelemy and Godfrey finish filling Constantine’s ears, they return to the food on their plates, staring down as if nothing else in the world concerned them. Constantine chews slowly, visibly considering their words.

“Monterisso has always kept a neutral face when it comes to Cordonian issues,” the King mentions. “They have never asked or hinted towards alliance. They are not many nations who ally with them at all.”

“So you must admit,” Barthelemy finishes chewing, “that allying with them instead of Auvernal makes a bad impression—”

“—and reduces the chance of alliances with other nations,” Godfrey finishes with him.

“How so?” I speak up. The three men turn their heads to look at me. No one else at the table pays attention to the conversation, but as their eyes burn in my direction — aggressive looks from the Dukes, while my husband raises an eyebrow at me — I want to take back my words.

But I do no such thing. After more than seven years of marriage, I had become accustomed to Godfrey and Barthelmey shutting down the advice I gave to my husband. This instance is no different.

✦✧✦✧✦

The Lion and the Heir - short series - Prologue

A/N: just as a heads up, i laughed while writing this. like i wrote this just for a good laugh and wanted to share. my friend sent me a writing prompt about a kid’s wild imagination and she thought it was funny and sent it to me (i sent her this same passage and we both laughed our heads off reading parts of it) so what i’m trying to say is that thinking this is terrible and cringe-worthy is understandable - i cringed at this myself and am very scared to post this lol, and might not even continue it. yes i made a moodboard thing. yes i laughed while making it. goodbye.

"Is everything well, Mommy?" I ask. Instead of answering me, again she attempts to silence me! I repeat my question, but this time the man tells me to silent myself.

Did they not know who they were speaking to? Perhaps I was interrupting something. Was there a lesson to be learned somewhere in this? I wish that Daddy were present at this meeting. Though most of his explanations were gibberish, he would at least attempt to make me understand.

The man walks towards me. He reaches his hands out to carry me, but I do not know this man! And he was quite stinky! I do not like him. I smack his hands away, and he takes a step back.

"With all due respect," I try to explain to him, "please introduce yourself before any forward actions. They are most unwelcoming. Your Princess does not appreciate this behavior."

He turns to my suspicious mother and says something in gibberish. I frown, for the language barrier does not mean that my subjects may disobey my wishes in such a manner!

Suspicious Mommy takes off the shield that was over her eyes. I find that it is NOT Mommy! Though they look similar, their differences are too contrasting. This woman's eyes were a tad sharper. She was too aware of me, and did not seem comfortable in my presence.

"Shhh sh shhh," she goes again, trying to pick me up, but I allow my short legs to fall from under me. My behind hits the mattress, and I feel my friend, General Lion, against my hand.

"Is everything well, Your Highness?" my trusty General says to me. "Is there anything I can do to be of service?"

"Dismiss this woman from my presence!" I command him.

"But... but that is Mommy!" he cries.

This woman was good in her disguise. She had fooled my trusted advisor!

"Believe me, General, it is not!" I tell him. "She has fooled us!"

"And she is trying to take you away?" he observes.

"Yes!" I am suddenly aware of what is happening. The woman begins to reach for me. "Quick!" I say, panic swelling in my chest. I had to do something about this, but all my heart is telling me to do is cry! I have to take more serious measures than that! "What am I to do?"

"Uh... uh..." General Lion looks around the crib, before he reaches out to me. "Take a hold of my paw!"

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

putting my Aftermath taglist because that’s the only one i have :) - y’all can see what’s happening in the next chapter & these other fics. if you’re interested in any (besides Aftermath) let me know! if you don’t interact or anything, i’ll leave you on the Aftermath taglist and won’t remove or add you anywhere :)

(also, people probably know this but just a gentle reminder, the only reason i don’t reply to comments is because this is a sideblog. i see them all though, so don’t worry. i just don’t want to confuse people by replying from my main blog or anything :) anyway let me stop trailing off)

@captain-kingliamsqueen @gkittylove99 @lovablegranny @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @shanzay44 @cordonianroyalty @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @twinkle-320 @amandablink @texaskitten30 @pens-girl-87 @ladyangel70 @sanchita012 @cordonianprincess @cordonia-gothqueen @pink-diamond13 @queenwalton @yourmajesty09 @alj4890 @choicesbutterfly

^if anyone from this list wants to do the WIP Wednesday thing, feel free!!

#trr fanfic #wips

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harringtonheartache · 4 years ago

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Daybreak | Part Eighteen

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Part eighteen of this fic. Steve and Nine must leave the house and stumble upon — ?

Word Count: 3,300 +

Warning(s): Cussing

A/N: Yay! I think that I have an idea of where the next few chapters are going (and then... *whispers* conclusion?) Enjoy!

P.S. watch Joe Keery’s new movie Spree! I did! It’s great! :-)

The two sat in Steve’s familiar car (doors locked, double-checked) with the windows down, breeze against both of their faces as he cruised down even more familiar roads. They had made a successful escape through his bedroom window earlier: Steve first, Nine second with a perhaps overly-cautious helping hand to guide her down. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier,” Steve said when her shoes hit the pavement of his back patio. He hadn’t bid farewell to either one of his parents, but it wasn’t necessary as long as they couldn’t find him if they went looking.

After a solid half-hour of aimless loops around town, the car’s gaslight began to blink. “Shit,” Steve muttered, turning the wheel down a new road. “I have to stop to get gas,” he said, his head drifting from the road to glance to his passenger. “It will only take a minute,” he reassured.

Five more minutes and he pulled in slowly to a gas station, exhaling with relief at it’s empty state. “You can stay in the car,” he told Nine. She looked to him and nodded with a smile, happy to oblige. He slung his door open lazily, exiting the car as Nine shifted in her seat. She pulled her left arm in front of her, eyes catching the vibrancy of red leaking through layers of white bandage it wore. Warily, she dragged a finger against the stain, and took it away to see that same red on her finger pad. “Shit,” she said, copying Steve.

He returned to his seat, a gas pump sticking out of the side of the car where he had been standing. Sitting again, he gazed over at Nine. “Oh,” he said, then turning in his seat so that he could see her better. He caught sight of her concern and reached out a hand. “Here, lemme see,” he said gently. She offered him her arm and he turned it tenderly, assessing the damage of the day’s activities. “There’s a small store down the road from here. We can stop there and pick up some more bandages, fix you up,” he proposed. The gas pump clicked, signaling that the tank was full.

The newly-filled-up car pulled into a parking place in front of an indeed small store, and once again Steve was reassured by the lack of action in the lot. There were a couple more vehicles than the gas station (which had been completely empty) held, but none of them were tall, white vans that implied severe danger. He made sure to check, as if a five-second head start to peel out of the storefront would make all the difference if one had been there. “I’ll be right back, any requests?” Steve asked Nine as he stood, a hand on the top of the car as he leaned down to peer in from outside.

“Can I come with you?” she asked.

“Uh… I meant, like, snack requests,” he replied, his words stalling as he thought over his ask. “But, um, you can. Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Nine said, a hand reaching to unbuckle her seat belt. She took the hat that had been sitting on the dashboard from its last use as she slid from the car.

She jogged around the front of the car to Steve and he laughed quietly. They walked together now, and he slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards him with ease. His forearm draped down her front side as he spoke softly, something close to a whisper-in-her-ear. “You know, I’m starting to think that the hat doesn’t do much,” he teased. She pulled her head back, looking at him with the beginnings of a smile. A hand reached up from her side and she plucked it from herself. Holding it by the brim, she pulled it down over Steve’s head instead. “Hey! Not cool,” he said, flicking up the front of the hat that had covered his eyes. He took the hat off and gave his head a shake in an attempt to fix his hair from it’s damage. “It looks better on you, anyway,” he admitted, placing it back on Nine’s head and dragging his hand down the front of the brim to cover her eyes as it had his. She tossed her head up to give Steve a bemused smile from underneath the hat’s cover.

The store was mostly empty when they walked in. The buzzing of some unrecognizable song played through speakers too cheap to work without the hum of electrical problems masking the music’s lyrics. The cashier supposed-to-be greeter didn’t look up from her magazine when the bell in front of the door rang to signify their entry, but the two wandered past her without care anyway. A few steps down one aisle and the shuffling of objects in the neighboring one made Steve creep backwards, stretching out his neck to peek around the corner at the commotion.

Joyce Byers stood, far too occupied to notice spying Steve, using one arm to shovel boxes of Christmas lights into her cart, and the other to keep the cart steady. He contemplated her actions for a moment — squinted confusion — then reached a hand out in front of him to gently grab for Nine who was a slow step ahead of him and unaware of his departure. She twisted around lightly at the sensation of his touch (fingertips brushing her arm, just out of reach) then sent him a puzzled look of which he did not see. He pulled himself back up then, and whispered so only Nine would hear.

“Will’s mom is here, I have to talk to her,” he informed, throwing in a “she’s trustworthy,” afterwards to settle her nerves about being seen.

Rounding the corner, Steve hesitated with his introduction, wondering if he should clear his throat like he had caught Joyce in the middle of something. “Hi, Ms. Byers,” he called out, a little bit of something — perhaps he adopted a shyness — to his voice.

She turned around sharply, bumping her arm against the handle of her cart and rattling the contents inside. Stacks of the Christmas lights Steve had watched her throw into a pile sat on top of a few lamps as the foundation of her basket. She would hit the light bulb section next, not bothering to count the number she’d need for however many lamps she had claimed before sweeping them on top of the pile. Her hair fell in front of her face as she jolted to Steve’s voice, and a hand reached up quickly to tuck it behind her ear — an action taken less to look presentable and more to be able to see whoever was advancing on her. Shoulders deflating from the scare, Joyce sighed and tried on a smile that looked a little too forced. “Hi, Steve,” she returned.

“We- uh. We were just here to pick up a few things and saw you,” he started explaining his hello. “Oh. This is Nina, she’s a friend,” he said, lifting a hand to waver in front of Nine as he introduced her politely. Joyce, as if she hadn’t even noticed the girl, lit up her face in a look of corrective surprise. “Oh!” she sang, another solemn grin but also an accompanying hand stretched out for a shake. Nine, caught a little off-guard herself, took the handshake with a kind smile. “Hi,” she said, pondering a second after if she should tell Joyce it’s ‘nice to meet her,’ (people say that, right?) then realizing that she waited too long to decide. Steve sweeped the conversation right back up anyways.

“How are you? Um- like, is there anything we can do?” he said, unable to decide on a question. How is one supposed to speak to someone with a missing child? What are the right things to say? Did he already mess up? He wondered for a second if this was one of those situations where you just don’t mention the elephant in the room, it’d be rude to bring it up. He then mentally scolded himself for even considering that to be the right route to take. It’d be inconsiderate not to, he assured himself.

Nine could have sworn she saw Joyce flinch when he asked his questions, as if it would break the role of happy mother she was playing to answer them. “Um - you know -” (he didn’t) “Just doing everything I can. I think people are starting to think I’m crazy”. She tried to laugh, but it came out sounding even more forced than the smile had appeared.

Steve held his breath a moment, replaying the mental picture that had been on loop in his mind since Dustin told him Will was missing. The mental picture of Will himself, the night Steve and Nine dropped him off at home, opening the door to his house and disappearing inside. Steve worried repeatedly if this particular moment he had often called upon was a mix-up, a recollection of a different night he had conveniently changed the time stamp on. He kept asking himself if he really saw Will go inside that night. He did, right? It wasn’t just his guilty subconscious protecting him by substituting memories, right?

“You’re not crazy,” Nine unexpectedly spoke. Steve glanced at her then quickly retreated his gaze.

“Thank you,” Joyce said with a sincere smile that faded into silence.

Wanting to recover, Steve opened his mouth to speak again, but Joyce turned suddenly to gesture to her cart. “I guess this doesn’t really help my look,” she said as she peered over the mountain of electrical supplies.

“What is it all for?” Steve asked, thankful for both the recoup in conversation and new attention paid to the second elephant in the room.

Joyce shifted on her feet, hesitant and unsure of how to continue. She was starting to realize her lack of skill in answering questions. “I- I’m going to sound… I’m going to sound delusional,” she said. For the first time in the conversation her voice fizzled out, became weaker with clear indication of tears that wished to join the dialogue. “I feel like Will is trying to communicate with me”.

Steve’s eyebrows jumped and he staggered over a reply. “Wh- wait, what? Did he call or something? Did someone take him-” he stopped as Joyce began to shake her head.

“No, no, nothing like that. He just…” she trailed off, refusing eye contact as she searched for the words. “The lights”.

“The lights?” Steve glanced at her shopping cart once more.

“They flicker. And I know it doesn’t make sense but- but I feel like it’s him.”

There is another silence as the two process Joyce’s words - interpretations independent of one another withheld from sharing as she waits for a reaction. Steve first considers the woman in front of him, her cart of lights and missing child, and has to wonder if she is (as politely as he could put it) losing it. He then acknowledges the woman to the side of him, steals another glance in her direction as he remembers how he met her and what she can do, the reason they’re in the store in the first place and how they came to be in the situation. Maybe Joyce was doing just fine.

Nine’s head quirked as she tilted it a little in confusion. Confusion or realization — her mind connecting dots, checking boxes on a recently developed mental checklist that helps her decide if something is just peculiar enough to be related back to her. Flickering lights, like the flashlights Steve, Dustin, and her swung from limp wrists in the forest. Flickering lights, like the ones above her head in the lab that made her close her eyes tight when her powers left them flashing too erratically.

“You feel like it’s Will?” Steve said. The realization began to dawn on him that this is a heavy conversation to be having in a shitty, run-down store that’s only still in business because the town it’s in is too small to let it die. And so he deliver’s his response a tad quieter, suddenly itching for a bit more privacy.

“I know how it sounds… but that’s why-” and she gestured to her cart again. “I have to find out”.

“No- um,” Steve stumbles for a logical response. “I get it,” he tells her, “you’d do anything to find him”.

Nine hadn’t gotten a chance to choke over her own response. Instead she was still thinking up ways she could somehow help the woman she had just met who stood sad and small in front of her.

Steve inhaled, cutting short her chance as he redirected the conversation. “Well we- we’re just here for some bandages. Um-” Is it rude to just shift the topic like this? He’s second-guessing himself more often than he’s used to. “Nina scraped herself up pretty bad earlier.” Nine looks down at her arm, a problem completely forgotten from her mind despite the still growing red leak showing through the bandage. It was stinging, too, she remembered. “We’re here, though. Any help you need — we’re going to find Will. I know that,” he finished.

Consoling looks shared between thank-you’s concluded the conversation within the minute. Now the groups backed away from one another, heads turned to watch the departure and toss solemn smiles for the other to catch. A few awkward strides and Steve and Nine were rounding the corner of the isle, shuffling to redirect their attention back to their errands. Neither of them were brave enough to talk again with Joyce so close in the otherwise silent store. And so Steve led Nine down the closest row of shelves, eyes glossing over the products lined up on each one but not quite focused enough to register what they were (what did they even come here for, again?).

He moved hurriedly, putting as much space as possible between them and the woman he could only assume was still stockpiling light bulbs. On his third twist around an end-cap, Nine reached a hand out to grasp onto his wrist and stop him from continuing his march. He turned to her easily, eyebrows perked as if he didn’t understand why she stopped their search (...for… oh, yes! bandages). She kept her eyes on his face, and after a moment it gave into a look of distress; brows quirking again, this time dipping downwards with a sadness he wasn’t able to disguise anymore. Big brown eyes so somber, he looked like a puppy someone had just kicked.

“Steve,” Nine said, and her voice was pacifying — a quilted warmth that fit snug around his name.

A determined hand — the one Nine had dropped from her gentle hold — reached from his side and rubbed once underneath his eye. He hadn’t started crying yet but his vision was wet, and he was trying to scare the tears away. Unsettled breathes made his chest rise and fall quickly while he tried to catch up with his brain’s sudden increased demand for oxygen. Nine said his name again, conciliatory tone still present and pretty. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He was looking down at her, but when he spoke he took his eyes away from hers. Instead his gaze darted around the store to fixate on anything else. “I can’t-” he started, his own voice weak and damaged from his body’s anxiety. He tried to center himself enough to talk, blinking irritatedly in an attempt to get rid of that threat of tears he hadn’t forgotten about. He was shaking his head now as he worked up the breath to continue, “I was responsible for her kid. She- she trusted me. I was supposed to get him home safe and now she has to deal with the fact that I failed.” He looked to her again — either her turn to react or his turn to take another breath.

“Steve, it’s not-”

“I can’t even remember if I made sure he got inside that night. I don’t know what happened and I’m too fucking stupid to remember.”

“Don’t say that,” Nine said, but her words were pushed away.

“She thinks she’s losing her mind. And she might be, I don’t even know, but I know I could have done something.” His words were picking up speed alongside his heaving chest. A tear finally escaped his vision but he was too focused on his speech of self-hatred to notice. It traced down the length of his cheek but he didn’t feel it.

“No you couldn’t have,” Nine told him, and she sounded sorry. “Steve, look at me”.

And he did, face still painted with pain. “You can’t remember that night because of shock. Your brain is trying to fixate on every detail but it can’t happen. You’re not stupid.” She said her words like she was so sure of them (because she was), but Steve looked skeptical at best. Nine continued anyway, reassurance incomplete and will with unwavering persistence. “You didn’t fail at anything. You’re a good friend to those kids and a good guardian, too. Something happened that night that was out of our control. Something from Hawkins’ Lab happened.”

He sighed this time, eyebrows furrowing as another tear dropped.

“You told me it wasn’t my fault that Will was taken, and now I’m telling you that it wasn’t yours, either.”

For a moment he simply thought about her words — a long moment that convinced her that he didn’t believe them. His lips parted to speak but he only took in air to hold it in his lungs. Another second passed and his shoulders fell; perhaps he was giving in. Giving into what she told him, giving into her, and he reached downwards to wrap his arms impulsively around her body still somehow warm from the outside sun. She let him, of course, and felt his fingers squeeze around the fabric of her shirt. With his head burrowed between her neck and her shoulder, his hold was desperate and he breathed out a huff of air that felt built up, heavy against her neck. She hugged him back, and while he closed his eyes tight, she understood that this was both a thank-you and a release.

A single bag with a lone item dangled from Steve’s grip as they walked, side-by-side again, through the parking lot. Joyce, a few minutes ahead of them, spun her cart around by the handle so that she could stack her purchases in the backseat of her car. Seeing her from afar, that nagging resumed in Nine’s head, reminding her of her aching desire to somehow help the woman.

“We have to help her,” Nine said, and her walking slowed. She didn’t look away from Joyce when Steve turned to face her, and she missed his visibly confused reaction. “What?” his disorientation still managed it’s way into his voice, though, and for a moment he thought that she meant they should assist Joyce with her shopping bags.

“We have to go to her house, see what she’s talking about”.

“Nine, hold on-”

“If she can contact Will then maybe I can figure out where he is. No more wandering around the forest unsure of what we’re even looking for. I can find him. I can actually find him this time and get him out of there. Steve, I-” she pulled her eyes away from Joyce and looked wildly at Steve.

“Wait, slow down,” he told her, jumbling to catch up with her rapidly developing plan.

“Steve, we can save him,” she said.

He paused at this, and the bag at his side swayed lightly. Then, looking off to where Nine had been so focused, he studied the woman so integral to the plan.

“Okay, I’m in. If you think we can save Will, I’m definitely in,” he told her, unmoving. He brought his head back to Nine after a moment of delay. “She doesn’t know… know about you, though. How are we going to… do this?”

Nine paused herself. “...I guess we let her know”.

---

A/N: Realizing how sad these characters have been these past few chapters... they’re going through a lot, okay?! Can’t promise it will get more uplifting right away, but I have... plans. Whatdoya think?

Tag List: @ggclarissa @gurl-ly @hyp-oh-critical @alewifex @we-are-band-sexuals @cpt-lamby @l0ve-0f-my-life @easvtohate @used-avocado @kwyloz @itzpikapie @samwise-babeyy @1985keery @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @mochminnie @peterwandaparker @ayamecrevan @lilyhw1 @seninjakitey @lulurose17 @write-from-the-heart @harringtonlr @sledgy14 @stranger-names

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #st fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #ST fanfic #joe keery #joyce byers

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