#so the twins go by the fake last name until they find out (AFTER bridge to the turnabout) who their dad was | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ktheist · 4 years ago

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girls like you [don’t] run ‘round with guys like me | m

characters. popular!reader x shy!jimin

genre. college au. rich kids au. fwb au. eventual ceo au. eventual racer au.

words. 4k

warnings. 18+

note. this is a repost. tumblr messed up my exposure last time. this fic didn’t show up in search and it’s probably a third post of mine that ends up like this. this one probably won’t either but posting bc someone might see it and like it.

It’s easy to tell when Park Jimin is in love.

Unlike Kim Seokjin, his eccentric, dad joke-loving friend, Jimin would only wear the pastel pink when he’s feeling giggly and shy and mushy inside.

The source of said feelings being either the barista he goes to get his daily dose of coffee from, or the girl at the library he studies at during finals or well, right now it’s the girl he’s fucking almost every day of the week - you.

“What are you doing?” Seokjin looks at him like he just dumped a spoonful of salt in a broth that needs a little, teensy bit of sugar.

Or his face seems to say that as he goes on, “she’s a mean girl. She’s mean.”

Jimin isn’t sure if Seokjin’s aware that he’s just repeated the same thing twice.

“She calls you Chim!” The older man reiterates.

“Yeah, it’s…” Jimin trails off, the heartwarming image of you cuddling into him after yet another mindblowing sex, flashing at the back of his mind, “...her pet name for me.”

“Sounds to me like she can’t remember your actual name,” Min Yoongi interjects from the couch he’s claimed for himself ever since they got to their usual hangout.

It’s a penthouse Jimin’s parents bought him on his 18th birthday. Him and the boys would hang around there after they’re done with classes or just need a place to crash whenever they have problems with their girlfriends or boyfriends or parents or any sort of problem that renders their usual room not sleepable.

“I think we can just agree we have different wants,” Jeongguk - or the sanest of them all, as Jimin likes to call him - chirps in, taking a bite of the apple he got from the fridge.

“Exactly,” Jimin throws his hands up as if freed from his elder friends’ judge-filled eyes. The vibration of his phone in his lap gives him even more comfort to know that he finally has an excuse to slip away - he checks his phone, your name flashing in the bubble that says ‘hey, wyd?’

“I have to go, it’s ___.”

A series of groans and hollers equally erupts from the men in the room at the realization of what Jimin’s ‘having to go’ means.

And so it goes. Jimin finds himself under your blanket that smells like fresh laundry - it’s a nude green color compared to the pleated black and white from last time. Your head is on his chest and he’s caressing your hair like it’s the softest thing he’s ever laid his hands on.

Besides your boobs, that is.

“I was thinking… since we have Monday off… maybe we could-”

It’s the way you push yourself off him, eyes that are onto him gazing straight into his soul, “oh shoot, Monday’s a public holiday. I totally forgot! I have to meet my parents. My dad’s been nagging me to come back since I skipped Christmas and New Year.”

And there goes his chance to ask you out on a date.

“Oh yeah, what were you saying about Monday?”

Jimin wears the biggest fake smile he can muster, “just that… me and the boys are gonna hang out and we’re bringing our girlfriends and boyfriends and uh- doesn’t have to be someone you’re exclusively seeing,” he almost chokes at the almost-admittance that he has the fattest crush on you and wants to make it official by inviting you to a couple’s-only hang out, “but like, I don’t think I’m going, it’s boring anyway.”

He waves his hand dismissively, trying to play it cool.

You make a cooing sound, eyebrows knitting together as your lips pout cutely before a playful smile blooms on your face, “I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?” Jimin thinks he heard his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Yeah, you’re single and all the boys have someone special they’re gonna bring… it’s gonna be awkward as hell because they’re gonna act different because they’re around their special someone so you thought if I was there, it’d be more fun because at least you have a friend with you that’s not gonna act fake the whole time there but I can’t go so you decided you’re not going too like a minute ago.”

Silence lulls in after your analogy that you sound so sure of when, in fact, he has a whole list of things he’d do on the date which he may or may not have gone over a hundred times in his head.

Doesn’t matter now, since that date is a no-go.

He’s going to delete that list off his phone once he gets to his place and drink himself silly until he wipes it out of his mind.

“Yeah,” Jimin says a moment later, “yeah… I mean, girls in love are cute but boys in love are just… annoying.”

The week flies by without Jimin ever mentioning Monday and you’ve showed him the clothes you’re going to wear to visit your parents because apparently-

“It’s lunch at some five star Michelin restaurant and I think they’re gonna tell me they’re getting a divorce,” your voice drifts into the room from the open, walk-in closet.

“If they’re not in some long, dreadful battle on who gets the holiday house with the pool and the dogs - how do I look?” You step out, in a frilly creme sweater with a black ribbon tied around the collar of your white undershirt with a black pleated skirt that stops mid-thighs, just inches from your black stockings.

A glaring contrast to your collection of washed out skinny jeans, plain t-shirts and sneakers.

“You… look…” Jimin knows he should stop openly ogling at your never-before-seen drip but there’s just something about the creme colored sweater.

“Like a good girl?” You offer with a smile Jimin couldn’t quite put a name to. Somehow he notices a trace of sadness in your eyes, but you disappear into the closet too soon.

“I’ll think about what to wear the morning I need to wear it,” you’re in the middle of pulling off the sweater when Jimin comes up behind you, kissing your neck and grabbing your boobs like they’re his.

The sound of your giggle is music to his ears.

That is, until his boner brushes against your butt and you gasp, “Chim! We just did it.”

“I know but you look so cute in that sweater.” He sounds exactly like Jeongguk. Like a fuckboy.

Like one of the boys you got tired of before you finally noticed him, the quiet, shy guy who’s friends with the outgoing, baby-faced Jeon Jeongguk whom - Jimin hates to admit it but he thinks about this every once so often and gets jealous all on his own - you’ve humped and dumped.

How you and Jeongguk still manage to stay friends and tease each other about the other’s choice of partners, Jimin doesn’t know.

It’s like a twin calling the other ugly.

He wonders if you and him will still stay friends after…

Jimin pushes the thought out of his mind. It’s not hard to forget everything when he’s with you - when he’s kissing you on the mouth like you’re the only girl he’ll want to spend the rest of his college life with and maybe his old days with together too.

“Chim, I can’t get my shirt creased,” you say but you’re already dripping wet and laying down in said shirt that’s half ridden up from him sucking and biting on your nipples.

He stopped you when you tried to take off your clothes.

“I’ll wash it and iron it for you,” he negotiates just as he rolls the condom over his length.

The sound of your giggle makes his heart skip a beat. Or maybe that’s the libido?

Either way, your mouth clamps shut when he pulls you down against him by the dip of your waist.

A different kind of hymn leaves your lips as Jimin throws his head back, relishing in the feeling of you around him.

When Monday rolls around, Jimin’s lying on the bean bag with his two legs sprawled over the floor. The boys are all out with either their significant others, working part-time or at a party.

The worn out baseball Jimin’s been tossing in the air and catching with one hand finally hits him square in the face when he hears the doorbell, signaling the presence of someone at the door and that someone being none of the boys because they would just punch in the code and strut in like they own the place.

Jimin thought maybe it’s Yoongi - the guy couldn’t even remember what he had for dinner and actually forgot the passcode to his own rental room once.

So he didn’t think to check who it was.

When your bright smile and slightly puffy eyes flash in front of him, Jimin thinks his soul just yeeted itself out of his body.

“Hey!” You sing song, holding up two plastic bags of beers and snacks.

It takes a moment for him to snap out of his stupor and grab them from your hands and then stepping aside to let you in.

“Is… everyone late or am I just early?” You sound increasingly confused as you step further into the center of the room, standing right next to the bean bag he was laying in just a moment ago.

“Oh-” he says once before he opens his mouth the second time, ready to spurt out another lie, “oh yeah… we decided not to ‘cause why hang out in a group when you can hang out with your significant other… you know, just the two of you… doing what couples do…”

“Huh,” you say, nodding though not quite believing him but you being you, easily lets it slide, plopping on the bean bag and grabbing the closest thing to you which is the ball that hit Jimin in the face - he’s sure he has a circular mark smack dab in the area on the top of his nose bridge, in between his eyes.

The dress you end up wearing is creme colored and riding up your thighs - Jimin swallows thickly and give extra attention to the bottle opener.

“So… how did lunch go?” He pops two beers open and hands one to you, taking a seat on Yoongi’s favorite couch and admiring how your dress is taking the shape of your body as gravity pulls it down.

“Oh, you know, everyone was being fake and acting like the perfect role in the family,” you put the beer down a few inches above your head so as to not tip it over with the ball you’re waving around but not throwing in the air like Jimin did.

“Sounds suffocating,” Jimin repeats a similar answer he gives whenever you use that dismissive tone while talking about your family.

“...are you okay?” Then he asks - and he’s genuinely asking - about your state of mind while casually downing the beer and feeling the bitterness lessen with every gulp.

The silence that lapses in between you is familiar.

“If I say no, can I get a hug?” It’s the look in your eyes, glimmering like the lake he used to go to in summer.

“Always,” he sets his beer down on the table next to the couch and goes over to you, standing on his knees before bending down and engulfing you in his arm.

You’ve always had a knack for picking yourself up.

When he sees you the next time, which is on instagram and a post of you having lunch with your friends, Jimin could hardly believe that’s the girl who asked him for a hug as if she’s afraid she’ll be putting him in an uncomfortable spot by asking for too much.

But there’s something…

Like an invisible wall made of ice that he can’t thaw through nor can he climb over to get to the other side where you are. Where you keep the people you love the closest. Closer than he’ll ever be.

Jeon Jeongguk is one of them.

In the picture of five people huddled close to fit in the frame, Jeongguk has his arm over you with a peace sign while you lean your head on his neck but not actually resting on it - like it’s an unconscious action you’d do because you’ve done that plenty of times.

Is it when you two were together?

Everyone he knows, knows that you and Jeongguk used to be more than just friends at some point.

Sometimes he still hears people talking about you two in passing.

‘Did ___ and Jeongguk get back together? I saw in Jeongguk’s snapstory - they were in a club or something.’

‘No way. There goes my chance of getting close with Jeongguk.’

‘Girl, with ___ hanging around him 24/7, do you think he’d look at girls like us?’

‘A girl can dream though.’

Jimin wanted to open his mouth and tell them they deserve way better than Jeon Jeongguk - though they’re not prettier than you.

He thinks you’re the loveliest girl on planet earth and if there was another life form on another planet, he’s almost a hundred percent sure you’d still be prettiest being in the universe with your obsession for skinny jeans and the way you’d unconsciously pout when he talks about how things weren’t going his way that day as if you would’ve exchanged your abundance of luck with his shitty one just because you’ve got that big of a heart and how you’d be walking with your friends, laughing and giggling and when you see him, you’d wave at him like you’re good friends.

Second only to Jeongguk and your friend group that you’re always hanging out with.

“Oh, ___? We were childhood friends.”

“Hmm… Gguk and I became friends because our parents are friends.”

The two of them say at different times and settings when Jimin asked, trying to play it cool. Like he isn’t just brimming with jealousy. Like he’s not half-way to losing his mind because the girl of his dreams just went to a retreat with his friend-of-a-friend-turned-actual-friend together when everyone else in the group who was excitedly planning for the trip - couldn’t make it.

The rooms at the inn weren’t even pre-booked. It was owned by Jeongguk’s family and they didn’t deposit any money for the trip for them to rationalize going on that trip anyway despite everyone else not being to go.

“The trip? It was fun, if you want we can go together next time.”

Jimin isn’t sure if you even mean that when he asked how the trip went after you’re glistening with the glow of after sex and scrolling through instagram, liking posts of everyone you know.

But then three months later, on your break, Jimin is hit with a ‘keep your schedule free next week for a whole week!!!’

Then he finds himself at a five star hotel by the beach with the most breathtaking view of the sea.

It wasn’t the inn owned by the Jeon’s but Jimin liked the fact that you brought him to a place - and he hopes his assumptions are true - your friends have never been before. Especially Jeongguk.

“Woah, this place is better than I thought,” a king sized bed lies directly across from the balcony where you’re standing, hair flying behind your back as the seaside breeze blows into the room.

“We can watch the sun rise and set from our bed,” Jimin comments for the sake of saying something.

He’s not sure what this means. He’s not sure if he should be having a boner at the thought of the two of you being together for a whole week without any other person getting in the way. He’s not sure if his heart should be thumping this fast.

For the first time since he’s known you, Park Jimin is the most unsure he’s ever been.

“You know what I wanna watch?” Your hands slip in his as you stand between him and the open balcony door, “you under me, biting your lips because you’re still shy about the sound you make.”

So when you tug him back into the bedroom just minutes after checking in, naturally, Park Jimin follows like he’s been bewitched by your ungodly beauty.

Once the one week of nothing but heavenly morning wishes and passionate night kisses - oh, there was more than just kissing but Jimin remembers how your lips meld so perfectly together with his the most - Jimin is sure.

‘Something definitely changed.’

He thinks maybe it’s not impossible to dream of a future with you even after college.

“Jimin I-... I’m not at a point in life to be thinking about relationships,” you say, hand gripping your arm, head lowered as if your whole body is saying sorry.

“O-oh,” is all he says, he hearts his heart breaking and his chest caving.

All of a sudden, the lights in Gangnam city doesn’t seem so bright anymore.

You both live your last year pretending like the other doesn’t exist. He doesn’t look at you when he passes you and neither did you. Only talks to Jeongguk even though you’re right next to the aforementioned man - granted you were talking with your other friends like you didn’t even notice him there.

But Jimin’s never felt so invisible in his life than he does now.

Then, graduation rolls around and he thinks finally, he won’t have to walk through the hallway and pretend like he didn’t see you. Don't have to keep a five feet distance whenever you meet up for a group project.

Park Jimin doesn’t need to see your pretty face and starry eyes anymore.

“Jimin… do you have a minute?”

Or so he thought.

“So… congrats on surviving college,” you make small talk while standing just ten feet away from the boys whom he’s sure are speculating on what you’re talking about.

Jimin never got to prove to his friends that you’re not the mean, name-forgetting girl they all thought.

Jeongguk knows you’re not. He’s always backing Jimin up when Jimin’s debunking their passing accusations about you.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out between two people but doesn’t mean one of them is the bad guy.” Jeongguk's words put an end to their debate of whether Jimin deserved better than you or not.

For someone young, Jeongguk spoke his mind decidedly.

Jimin felt ashamed that he’d ever been jealous of Jeongguk’s relationship with you.

“I just… didn’t wanna leave things on a bad note. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said no but I really like spending time with you - whether it’s sex or just staying over and cuddling for hours… I like it all.” You say the word sex and cuddle like they’re used interchangeably and Jimin thinks his heart just fluttered.

And you’d said it in public where your everyone can see or possibly pick up on what you were saying, at that.

Well, one thing’s for sure, you’ve got bigger balls than he does.

“My feelings are the same as six months ago and call me crazy but I don’t think you dislike me either.” He finally says and it feels like a deadweight has been lifted off his shoulders.

There comes that pout, as if something is bothering you and you always ever pout like that when that something concerns him.

“You kidding me? I can never dislike you.”

The Jimin from six months ago would have stared at you with disbelief and a dust of pink on his cheeks. But the Jimin he is now simply smiles, heart thumping in his chest. He nods.

“Thanks for telling me that,” and Jimin knows that’s the closest to an ‘I like you’ he can get with the girl who builds an ice fortress around her heart.

A whole year passes by and Jimin finds himself in different shades of grey every day, working at his dad’s company and attending dinner meetings. Life comes to a standstill while time passes him by.

“So, like, you have a sports car, right? Why don’t you come over to the race circuit after dinner? Everyone’s gonna be there.”

Jeongguk tells him over the phone.

And by ‘everyone’ he means the sons and daughters in the corporate world. It’s networking at its finest.

When he’s there, three cars are already racing in the circuit. The smell of burnt rubber and the sound of tires screeching against asphalt isn’t exactly his favorite but they have cheap booze instead of fine wine and he knows the people here are in for the same thing as he is.

An escape.

Away from the grandeur of fine wine and dinner dresses and the elders breathing down their necks and having to act like the next heir to the legacy they were born to carry.

“That Chevrolet over there,” Jeongguk comes, hand on Jimin’s back as his other one that’s holding a bottle of beer points at a red car that looks like a racing fireball, “everyone’s betting on that one tonight.”

Jimin doesn’t know there’s a bet.

“I’ll skip the bet this time ‘round. Haven’t seen the driver yet,” he shrugs dismissively.

Even in stock investment, he’d learned to study the market first before placing his best bet.

Jeongguk leaves his side when his friends - he’s got new ones now - beckons him over. At the same time, the Chevrolet passes the finish line seconds before the Ford Mustang and McLaren 720s, making it the winner of the night.

The driver seems like a show off with the way the car rolls up to the audience, the sound of its engines revving into the night being met with cheers of half-drunk young adults.

Arrogance is a man’s downfall.

Jimin’s about to turn around and head for the exit when the door of the car gets pushed open. The driver steps out, decked in black and red leather jeans and jackets that seem to match the car.

But it’s the smooth, silken hair that cascades past the helmet that catches his eyes.

Park Jimin’s seen many arrogant men in his life but he’s only ever seen one woman with balls and looks good wearing them.

“___! ___! ___!” The crowd starts cheering as you pull off the helmet, holding it underneath your arm and waist.

Your eyes are as brilliant as the night sky full of stars. They’re tinged with shock and then recognition. And finally, you smile that gorgeous smile that gets you misunderstood often as a woman who doesn’t need anything or anyone but uses them as they come.

But Park Jimin knows better than anyone, how wholeheartedly happy that smile looks when you see him.

Like meeting a good friend after a long time.

Seven months down the road, Jimin finds himself with just a blanket draped over his waist while you’re taking a shower in his bathroom to get ready to head to Hong Kong for a business trip.

He hears the sound of the shower head being turned off. The tapping of your foot around his bedroom as you pick up your clothes that are strewn all over the floor.

Then the bed dips ever so gently under your weight as you climb over to him, the fresh scent of shower get filling his senses. Lips press a deep, lingering kiss on his. As if you don’t want to go to a place where he won’t be.

A few socials and midnight races after his first meeting with you after a long time, you asked him if he’s seeing someone.

“If I say yes, what will you do?” It’s playful at first, because Jimin didn’t want to get himself hurt the second time.

But it’s the way you tilted your head, a finger tapping on your chin as you pondered on his words, “that’s a problem because I don’t want to be that girl that steals another girl’s man,” then you looked at him like you know he’s the one you want to wake up to every morning and the last face you see when you sleep at night and if you can’t have that. then-

“Can you be mine… just for tonight?”

“I don’t think I can.” The crestfallen expression you wear makes his own heart break, even if it’s just for a split second-

“Because I’m not seeing anyone but I’m in that point in life where I want a serious relationship or nothing at all.”

But what he doesn’t tell you is how he doesn’t want a relationship if it’s not with the girl who still haunts his dreams even after all this time.

Just like how you’d turned him down because you weren’t looking to be in a relationship before, you’d courted Jimin like you’d want to spend your whole life with him now.

Flowers got sent to his office everyday until it smells nothing short of floral. You’d be there, waving at him like he’s your savior in that dreadful social you were both attending. Every week, you’d plan dinner dates under the guise of catching up.

Before you race, you’d look over to where he’s standing, as if saying ‘this one’s for you’ before slipping into your car and coming out first every single time.

As if you were making up for every month of the year that you’d let life pass you by.

Now you’ve won a total of 36 races since he met you and the metal band you gifted him on the night of your 12th win feels warm against his skin. As if it’s absorbed all the love and adoration you poured into it.

And you’re wearing that ring he got you on your birthday on your finger that’s resting on his chest where his heart is as he kisses you back just as reluctant to let you leave.

But Park Jimin knows wherever you are, wherever you will be - you will always find your way back to each other.

Back home.

#bts smut #jimin smut #bts fics #jimin fic #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #bts x you #bts x reader #jimin x reader #jimin fics #bts fic #bts fanfics #jimin fanfics #jimin scenarios #bts scenarios

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years ago

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THE RIGHT MOMENT

Summary: Y/n and George had been crushing on each other for too long, but neither of them said anything. They both were waiting for the right moment to do it, but with a war upon them, was there really such thing as 'the right moment'?

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

George Weasley: ———

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: injuries, blood, implicit beating

A/N: (dis bish long lmao) Idk what is this, I just wanted to do something for George. Bill and Fleur's wedding came to my mind and I was like, ok but what happened after the death eaters arrived? And this came out, so enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I wasn't expecting to see her.

I had heard my mother mention her name whilst talking about the Order, and I knew she had befriended Fleur at the Triwizard Tournament, but seeing her apparate in our yard was... Well, surprising.

"Son, snap out of it!" My father called me out and I corrected my wand movement; I had almost messed up the canopy, and I blamed the way her dress and hair flew with the wind as she approached our home's entrance.

Fred walked to me the moment we had secured everything, glancing at the house before questioning, "am I delirious or that was Y/n?" with a knowing grin and an intent eyebrow wiggle.

As if taking a cue, we saw the girl coming out, now with a borrowed jacket on, making a beeline to us. "I'm... Pretty sure it's her." I replied, giving the girl a smile when she waved. "Morning, lady."

"Morning, gentlemen." Fred then turned around and stepped to her in order to give her a hug. "Long time no see, huh?"

"Indeed." I agreed, following my brother's lead and hugging Y/n; her arms were quick to wrap around my neck and shoulders and squeeze me tight; I would have sworn she let out a relieved sigh. "Fleur invited you?"

"Your mom, actually." Her reply left me puzzled. "I heard your night was... Eventful." She pointed at the bandages covering my ear with a worried look. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than last night." I replied, scratching the back of my neck.

"You sure, Georgie?" It was then that I remembered we weren't alone. "Last night he was feeling Saint-like." Y/n frowned in confusion. "Because he's holey." Fred pointed at his ear just like I had done the night before and I could feel my cheeks burning. "Get it?"

"Oh, no! it's sooo bad!" She laughed at the joke and a smile tugged the corners of my lips. "I think that's the lamest joke you've cracked." She pointed out.

"I know! I told him."

"Okay, I was bleeding out." I defended myself. "I think I'm allowed to crack a lame joke."

"Dunno, George, it was really bad." I threw my head back with a groan at Y/n's teasing. She waved at Fred, who said something about having things to do inside, and when my eyes landed on him over Y/n's shoulder, he mouthed a clear 'go for it'. "Tonks told me about Mad-Eye." She spoke again in a more serious note.

"You said it," the smile vanishing from my face. "Last night was eventful."

"When your mother told me you got hurt, I just... I got really scared." Her anxious words took me aback. "I went straight into the house to see you." The wind made her hair flow again, and I had to put my hands in my pockets to stop myself from tucking that bloody strand that kept getting in her face back behind her ear. "I was so happy you were out preparing stuff and not in there, unconscious in a bed."

"Well, I'm very happy to see you." I replied, my eyes digging into hers to make sure she knew how much I meant that. "Missed tons that smile of yours."

"I missed your lame jokes." I rolled my eyes at her response. Right after, she stepped forward and gently pulled me down; one of her hands holding onto my forearm, steadying her, while the other one cupped one of my cheeks so she could press a kiss to the other. "See you." And with that, she was off to greet the rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do it."

"She's talking with Luna."

"Excuses." I puffed tired at Fred's reproach before taking a sip of my drink. "C'mon, you got absolutely nothing to lose."

"My dignity?"

"She fancies you!" I shook my head no. "How many times are you gonna have the opportunity to dance with her, Georgie? Stop being a twit."

"Not yet."

"Oi, have you seen Y/n?" Ron approached us, taking a seat by my side.

"It's the only thing he's seen." I pinched the bridge of my nose, unable to deny what my twin had just said. "Just do it." I groaned. "Okay, I'll do it."

"No!" I jumped up and tugged Fred down in the process. "Alright, I'll go."

READER'S P. O. V.

"Yeah, I was about to—"

I involuntarily let out a squeal when a hand tickled my side. "Hello, ladies." I spun my head to see George behind me. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but may I have this dance?"

Luna replied before I could. "You see, I was wondering how much time it'd take you to ask her." I turned as red as a beetroot; my only comfort was that the towering ginger's face was the colour of his hair. "I think I'm odd man out." She waved us goodbye and headed to see Harry.

"I reckon Luna is way too observant." He spoke, tugging my hand.

"Were you ogling me, Weasley?"

"Maybe." He came to a stop in the middle of the dancefloor and pulled me close. "Couldn't take my eyes off you." He confessed quietly.

As we swayed, I let my forehead land on his chest, savouring what I dreaded would be one of the last precious moments before everything went down.

"George?" He hummed, raising his brows as a prompt for me to talk. I took a deep breath and told myself that what I was going to say mattered little compared to whatever was looming over us. "I've been wanting to tell you this, but I just... Didn't find the right time." Our faces were mere inches away. "But I don't think I'll ever find the right time at this point so—"

I jolted, holding onto George, when a blue volute plunged into the tent; a Patronus.

It was not until Shacklebolt message was ending that I realized George's arms were around me, pulling me flush against his chest.

Both our hearts were hammering violently, and I was sure he could feel mine as clearly as I felt his.

When the Patronus vanished, panic began to spread. I noticed how my own breathing picked up. "Y/n." This time it was George the one calling my name; his whisper sounded so clear compared to everyone else's screams and cries. "If I don't say this out loud, I'll combust—"

"Y/N! GET DOWN!" Tonks's shouts snapped us out of it. We obeyed just in time to see a red hex flying over us, being stopped by Tonks herself.

George and I grabbed our wands and pulled each other back to our feet before joining the Order.

"FREDDIE!"

"LUNA!"

We parted ways, George making his way to reach his twin while I ran to a moderately tipsy Luna, who seemed to be struggling to find her father.

As soon as I made sure she was out of the picture, I jogged to help the twins, casting protection spells against two death eaters.

"STUPEFY!" I managed to take out the one attacking George, and he was quick to stun the one duelling his brother.

"Leave!" George tugged my hand, attempting to get me out of the canopy, his brother quickly rushing to their little sister.

"I'm not leaving!"

"Y/n—" I moved him out of the way to shield us from another hex. "Please— Flipendo!!" I saw another death eater flying away from us. "Shit!" George's hand gripped mine for dear life, making me back off with him to get back in when he realized it was too late for me to leave.

Soon enough it was just the Weasleys, Fleur and her family, Tonks, Lupin and me inside the tent, all back-to-back, surrounded by death eaters.

Corban Yaxley stepped out. "My apologies to disrupt the celebrations." he offered a fake apology to the newlyweds which was equally disgusting and scary. "Let's try by fair means." I knew my knuckles had gone white, given the strength with which I was gripping George's hand. "Where is Harry Potter?" He knew no one would speak. "Aight, by foul it'll be."

I looked around and I saw Molly and Arthur shielding Ginny; Bill and Fleur held onto each other; Lupin and Tonks pulled Fleur's sister and parents behind them; Fred gave a quick look at his twin before moving closer to us.

"Take them inside and register the house."

Soon we were being pushed into the Burrow, a bunch of death eaters before us ready to put all upside down.

We stayed quiet meanwhile, leaving out an occasional 'don't touch that' or a 'there's no need to break that' from Molly and Arthur.

"I reckon you won't find Harry in my grandma's glass cabinet, smart arse." We all turned to Fred, his mother giving him a pleading look.

"Maybe he's between the plates, Freddie," George jumped in, attempting to draw the attention off his brother. "You'll want to check the cutlery too, in case he's now a teaspoon." He suggested to Yaxley with a challenging look.

The death eater tilted his head to the side, as if he had noticed something worth of interest in George. "What happened to you?"

Everyone went livid.

"I fell downstairs." George replied through gritted teeth. His tone was full of what could be easily passed as anger, but by the way his hand was shaking, I reckoned it was fear.

Yaxley seemed to think for a second before turning to two of his mates. "Start with him, then the twin and we'll move on to—"

Before I knew what I was doing, my wand was out and hexing one of the guys that had tried to remove George from us.

"Take their BLOODY WANDS!" Yaxley stalked to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me away. "We'll start with you, miss."

"No! Wait, she doesn't know anything!" George tried in vain to persuade them, pushing through the death eaters in an attempt to get to me. I looked at him and shook my head no, already psyching myself up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were rather quick, and not half as bad as I thought they would be. I was thrown back into the living room with only a shiner and the promise of bruised wrists.

It was enough for George to jump up; not to check on me, though, but to do something as stupid as my impulsive hexing.

"Okay, crippled," three death eaters grabbed him before he could do anything and dragged to the bathroom they had gotten me in. "your turn."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He looked bad.

Molly was about to throw hands when we saw George leaving the bathroom; a cut on the cheek, a bloody nose, a black eye and by the way he flinched while walking, probably an injured rib.

But the worst was the red pooling the bandage around his head, and the way he was struggling to keep his hand off it.

"C'mon, blabber." It wasn't surprising when Fred willingly approached Yaxley and punched him strong enough to throw him down. "You know-” He got up, motioning at his minions so they would get Fred in. “that just made it worse."

I spared Molly an enquiring look, to which she replied with a nod; in an instant, I was gently pulling George to the settee. "Let me see..." I pursed my lips, tilting his head to the side so I could check his wound. A sigh left my lips, suddenly realizing I couldn't really take off the bandage in front of them. "Can you sit it up?" I whispered only for him to hear.

He nodded, his hand travelling up to mine, which rested on his cheek, to give it a reassuring squeeze. I didn't think twice about how wrong the timing was before leaning in and placing a kiss on his lips.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

My body moved forward by itself when she pulled back, attempting to chase her lips. I managed to stop myself when I remembered we were surrounded by death eaters and my family was right behind Y/n.

She then gave me a small smile and moved to grab a fresh towel from the kitchen. I caught a glimpse of my family's looks before she came back, ready to clean the blood on my face.

She aided Fred along with my mom; he bore the burnt along with me.

The sun was rising when Yaxley decided to leave. My father rushed to send a Patronus to the trio, and everyone felt a bit of relief and finally scattered through the Burrow. Ginny claimed she would take care of Fred, and she took my twin to our room.

"Now, let's check that." Y/n spoke, standing up so she could remove the damp bandage. "What happened?"

"He threw a punch and—" I hissed when the bandage left my ear, earning a concerned ‘sorry’ from Y/n. "The wound opened. It began to bleed, and they decided to stop." She only nodded, grabbing again the towel, now mildly red due to the blood it had cleaned. "That kiss was too short." I didn't even know how I managed to let that out.

She stopped, her eyes going up and down my body before inquiring, "want another one?"

"Please." She didn't need anything else for her soft lips to return to mines. This time it was one hell of a kiss, but my mouth chased them again when Y/n pulled away, only that this time her lips did return to mines for another short kiss. "Should I ask you on a date?"

"I doubt we'll be able to go on a proper date." We both chuckled; as sad as it sounded, it was true. "You can make me a coffee after I fix this, though."

"Gladly." I replied, my thumb caressing her cheek before bringing her to my lips one more time.

"FINALLY!" We both jumped at Fred's yelling. "It was about fucking time, really."

"Do you wanna get beaten up again?" Y/n harmlessly shoved my shoulder, hiding a laugh. "I just realized," I signalled my black eye and then hers. "We're matching."

"What a lovely way to match, is it not?" She replied, shaking her head with a smile on her face. “Come,” she caressed my cheek before carefully pulling me up. “I saw clean bandages over the sink.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Y/l/n,” her eyes travelled to my brother. “don’t you snog my brother in the lavatory where we just got beaten up.”

“Piss off, Fred.” She responded indifferent, pulling me with her into the bathroom, leaving the door completely open; she probably feared my mother would burst it open at the possibility of us doing inappropriate things in there.

“Yeah, piss off.” I agreed, siting down on the toilet so she could clean the wound. “She can snog me wherever she wants.” I added, muffling a laugh when Y/n cursed us both under her breath. “I’m sorry, love.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” I confessed with an amused grin.

“Why do I even fancy you?” She questioned, faking disappointment in herself.

“I’m very handsome?” I casually suggested, tilting my head for her to wrap the bandage without much difficulty.

“Must be.” She agreed, leaning on to peck my lips. “Now where’s that coffee, sir?”

I got up, leading Y/n to the kitchen and instantly preparing the coffee pot. “It’s gonna be the best coffee you’ll ever taste.” I stated, as if it was a scientifical fact.

“Confident, are we?” she laughed, sitting on the counter besides me.

“Well, my four-year-long crush just kissed me.” I confessed. “So yeah, very.”

“Fred’s right.” I hummed, looking at her with an eyebrow raised as I handed her the coffee. “It was about fucking time.” We smiled at each other, way too widely for two people who had just gotten roughed up. We stayed next to one another in silence, looking through the window; I found the customary landscape particularly beautiful.

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orangeoctopi7 · 3 years ago

Text

All of Your So-Called Problems

[AO3 link]

Stan was trying to find room for the leftover Mac and Cheese in the fridge when he heard the doorbell. He grumbled a few obscenities under his breath as he trudged towards the door. He was NOT in the mood for visitors tonight, even if they might be paying customers. The fact that a demon was trying to break into the house to steal some world-ending piece of junk from Ford didn’t help.

"We're closed!" He shouted before he even peeked out the window. He pulled back the blinds just enough to glare at whoever thought it was a good idea to drop by this late, and his eyebrows raised nearly to his receding hairline when he saw who it was.

"Wendy!? Since when do you knock?" Stan couldn't think of a single time she hadn't just come in and made herself at home since she'd started working at the Shack.

"Since Dipper told me you answered the door with a loaded gun earlier today." The teen answered as Stan opened the door.

"Gonna have to have a talk with that runt about blabbing." Stan rolled his eyes. "What, you having a movie night with the kids?"

"Not exactly." The teen jerked a thumb over her shoulder, and Stan finally noticed the rest of the Corduroy family standing just behind her, right off the porch. They were all carrying sleeping bags and pillows.

"...Wha?" Stan could only utter a surprised grunt as his brain tried to piece together why it looked like the entire Corduroy family was here for a sleepover.

"Dipper called me and said we could stay here until your brother puts up a barrier around our house." Wendy explained, noticing her boss's confusion. "...Aaand he never even told you anything about it, did he?"

"He sure didn't." Stan deadpanned.

As if on cue, Dipper and Ford both stepped into the entryway.

"Oh, Wendy, you're here already!" Dipper said, voice dripping with faked surprise. "I forgot to ask Grunkle Stan if it was ok for you guys to stay the night. But gosh, since you're already here, I guess we can't turn you away!"

"You can drop the act, bucko, I wrote the book on It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission." Stan folded his arms disapprovingly. "The answer's still no. We're already putting up one freeloader."

"I'm the one who said they could stay." Ford said firmly.

Stan turned his glare to his brother. "This isn't a safehouse, genius!"

"It's my house, Stanley!"

"Where are they even gonna sleep!?"

"Well, perhaps we'd have some place to put up guests if you hadn't turned the two largest rooms into a tourist trap!"

"Oh, like you kept the place ready for company when you lived here!" Stan countered. "These rooms were both filled to the brim with your weird experiments when I got here!"

“Hey, we can sleep outside like men, if it’s too much trouble to put us up!” Manly Dan interrupted the brothers’ argument.

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option.” Ford shook his head. “The barrier barely extends past the front porch.”

Ford quickly took a mental survey of where there might be extra room. The basement lab was out. He’d finished dismantling the portal, but he was storing the rift down there for now. His secret study was supposed to be a secret, and he still needed to clear out all that old Bill memorabilia. The attic was already taken by Dipper and Mabel. Stanley still had the main bedroom, and Fiddleford was currently sleeping on the couch in the upstairs study. That left the den, which might be large enough for one or two people, but certainly not a family of five. If only Stan hadn’t filled his old experiment and specimen rooms with useless junk! Sure, the rooms hadn’t exactly been empty before, but Ford at least would have known what things could be moved where to make room for their guests. Even his old thinking parlor was… wait…

“What about the parlor?” The old researcher asked.

Stan shrugged. “I kinda use it as a space for rotating exhibits, or whatever else I need at the time. Pretty sure it’s still full of leftover campaigning junk.”

“So, nothing we can’t throw out then.”

“Not so fast, genius, I still haven’t agreed to letting anyone stay here.”

“This is an emergency, Stanley!” Ford fumed. “And besides, it’s not your decision to make!”

Stan regarded the Corduroy family still standing awkwardly on his porch, and tried to imagine Manly Dan with those disturbing yellow eyes he’d seen on that time traveler earlier. He tried to picture the hulking lumberjack acting like that erratic demon. It was not a pleasant thought.

“Alright, fine.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But only because I don’t want any of these ax-weidling giants possessed by a triangular serial-killer. And don’t expect me to provide any bedding or food!”

“Yeah, we can probably snare ourselves a few squirrels or something.” Wendy’s oldest brother assured Stan.

Stan grimaced. “On second thought, help yourselves to some canned meat. Only the stuff that’s expired though!”

“Thanks Stan.” Wendy said. “For giving us a place to stay until this blows over, not for the expired meat.”

“What? They pad that date out by at least a year. As long as it smells fine, it’s good to eat.” Stan defended himself.

The teen rolled her eyes but stepped into the Shack, followed by her family.

Ford observed them all carefully as they entered. No hesitation or sign of even noticing it as they crossed over the barrier. So they definitely weren’t possessed now. He would have to keep a close eye on them while they stayed. He knew that Dipper trusted Wendy, and that was good enough for him, for now, but the others? Ford vaguely remembered Dan from when he’d been a young man, building this very cabin for him. He’d been friendly, loud, and boisterous. It appeared his sons were cut from the same cloth. But it was hard to say whether or not Bill could convince any of them to try and smash the rift.

“So Wendy, did you manage to get more unicorn hair?” Dipper asked as he helped her lay out a sleeping bag in the parlor.

“Oh yeah. I just snuck into that glade again with a pair of shears and a tranq dart. Works just as well as fairy dust.” She handed a grocery bag full of rainbow hair to Ford.

Ford made a mental note to add that tidbit to the Journal 1 entry on unicorns later. “I’ll get started on it first thing tomorrow.”

Mabel came downstairs to help just a minute later. After a lot of rearranging of campaign signs and novelty phones, everyone had a sleeping space set out. Dan took Stan’s recliner in the den, and his youngest son set out a sleeping bag at his feet. The oldest three children laid out their sleeping bags between the piles of junk in the parlor.

“Ohmigosh, Dipper, we should pull our mattresses down here and have a mega-sleepover!” Mabel gasped as she pushed the last of the campaign signs into a corner.

“What was the point of clearing out all this junk if we aren’t even gonna sleep in our own beds?” Dipper asked tiredly.

“Hmm, good point. Maybe Barry and Stuart can sleep in our beds, and we can sleep down here with Wendy!”

Dipper and Wendy’s middle brother both blushed beet red.

“Uh… I mean… I, uh, I don’t think Wendy would want to sleep with me--US! With us!” Dipper stammered.

“M-me? Sleep in a g-girl’s room? Like a room that a girl sleeps in?” The middle brother gulped.

“Yyyeah, I think we’re good where we are.” Wendy said cooly, trying to diffuse the awkward tension in the room.

“Aw man!” Mabel pouted, but she didn’t put up any other protest than that. Dipper suspected she was still pretty worn out from the rescue mission this morning.

Eventually, everyone got settled down and the children all fell asleep. The elder Pines twins moved back to the living room to check on Dan one more time.

"Hey, now that the kids are asleep, I've been meaning to ask you something." The lumberjack said in a low rumble that was probably his version of a whisper. "How long have there been two of you?"

"Hooboy…" Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want to retread this again.

"I'm Stanford. I'm the one you first met when you built this place for me. My brother Stanley has been living here under my name for the last 30 years." Ford summarized tiredly. Apparently he wasn't in the mood to make a big deal out of it right now either.

Stan could practically see the gears turning in Manly Dan's head. Eventually the grizzled lumberjack nodded. "Yeah, that adds up."

With that, he turned over and went to sleep. Stan was a little surprised that the guy accepted their explanation just like that. But then again, Dan had lived in Gravity Falls his whole life.

Ford grabbed a folding chair from the card table and carried it out into the giftshop.

"Are you seriously gonna stay up and keep watch over that snowglobe thing all night?" Stan asked incredulously.

"My usual sleeping place is already occupied, I may as well."

"Y’know, operating on so little sleep just makes you more likely to screw up.”

“Don’t worry. I’m well accustomed to it.”

“Not reassuring.” Stan said flatly, turning and climbing the stairs up to his room. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he probably wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight either. But at least he was going to try. Ford was going to run himself ragged if he kept up this pace.

- - -

Nights in prison were the worst part of the whole ordeal, in Gideon's opinion. At least during the day, he was able to sway the other inmates to do what he wanted. There was a sort of mob mentality that he could take control of. But at night, it was just Gideon and his cell-mate, and there was nothing the boy could do to stop the hulking man from taking his pillow and doing whatever he wanted with it.

Last week, the convicted felon had staged a wedding in their cell. He’d made a veil out of toilet paper and hummed “Here Comes the Bride” and everything. Tonight, he seemed to be discussing the possibility of children with his new “wife”.

“But Tessa, your mother and your aunt both died in childbirth! I’m just worried about you, honey!” He paused for whatever imagined reply the pillow gave. “Adoption, you say? I’ll admit, I had not considered it.”

Gideon groaned. He couldn’t even put a pillow over his ears to try and block out the nonsense! He’d tried to persuade the warden to let him switch cell mates so he could room with Ghost Eyes, but apparently they were “both instigators” and putting them both in the same cell would be “asking for a prison riot”.

The boy’s eyes flicked with annoyance to the cat poster still hiding his last attempt to summon Bill Cipher. The triangle had appeared and promised he was working on something, but so far Bill had failed to deliver.

“Stupid useless demon!” Gideon muttered under his breath. He rolled over, expecting another sleepless night.

Well, it did turn out to be sleepless, but not for the reason he’d anticipated.

It was a little past 10 PM when Gideon heard the familiar sound of an old van’s engine revving. He’d heard it many times on his father’s used car lot, but what on earth would one of those junkers be doing here?

That’s when he heard the unmistakable sound of a van crashing through a wall. Followed by the even more unmistakable sound of a machine gun.

“Heavens to Betsy, what was that!?” Gideon ran to his barred window just in time to see a pudgy man with a machine gun walk away from the wreckage of where a large van had burst through the prison wall. His maniacal laughter sounded familiar.

“Well whaddya know? Bill came through!” Gideon said in a hushed whisper.

He dove away from the window with a yelp a second later when the machine gun started firing in his direction. A few seconds later there was a much quieter bang as a tall ladder hit the wall just outside the window.

“HEY GIDEON, I HEARD YOU WERE GETTING TIRED OF YOUR PRISON AND WANT TO FIND SOMEPLACE NEW TO PARTY?”

“Bill!?”

“THE ONE AND ONLY!”

“Are you trying to kill me, you maniac!?”

“YEESH, YOU FLESH-SACKS ARE SO SENSITIVE! YOU’RE FINE. BESIDES, I NEEDED TO LOOSEN THESE BARS!” He ripped out the bars on the window with ease. They’d already been loosened by the machine gun fire. “YOU COMING OR NOT? I NEED YOUR HELP STAGING A LITTLE PRISON BREAK OF MY OWN.”

Gideon pouted and followed the demon down the ladder, grumbling the whole way.

“... You know what, Tessa? I don’t think I want kids after all.” Gideon’s cowering cell mate said after they left.

Bill kept the guards off them with plenty of machine gun fire, but he had little regard for who he was shooting at, guard or prisoner. He even narrowly missed Gideon on a few occasions.

“Oooh, I hope Killbone’s foot will be ok.” The boy hissed sympathetically as he saw one of his inmate friends go down.

“NAH, HE’S CRIPPLED FOR LIFE!”

They finally made it to the van, and Gideon climbed into the passenger-side door. Bill followed after him.

“A-aren’t you gonna drive?” The boy asked.

“TCH, FUNNY! I JUST RAMMED THIS THING THROUGH THREE WALLS OF CONCRETE; YOU THINK THE MEASLY COMBUSTION ENGINE STILL WORKS?” He flicked a lighter on and dropped it down between the driver’s seat and the steering wheel. Gideon could smell the gasoline. This thing was going to blow any second. He scampered over the benches and out the back door. Bill followed casually behind him.

“Then how are we supposed to get away!?” Gideon demanded as he sprinted to put distance between himself and the burning van.

“RELAX, SHORT-STACK, I’VE GOT A SECOND GET-AWAY CAR RIGHT HERE!” Bill pointed out a small black Audi parked behind a tall tree.

“Then why did you set the van on fire?” Gideon asked in confusion.

“BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT’D BE FUN.” Bill grinned as the van blew up behind them. Gideon screamed and ducked to avoid fiery flying debris. “AND I WAS RIGHT!”

Gideon got into Bill’s car. There was no child’s car seat. “You better drive careful.” He warned the demon.

“AHAHAHAHA, OH GIDEON, YOU’RE ALWAYS A RIOT!” Bill struggled to shift the car into drive, and Gideon had just enough time to realize with horror that the demon didn’t really know how to operate a human vehicle before it sped off through the trees.

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Gideon Gleeful #Bill Cipher #My Writing

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sweetyyhippyy · 3 years ago

Text

Part of You. Spencer Reid x OC! Character. Chapter 13.

Chapter 13: Planning

Summary: Bridgett freaks out and panics when she waits on the results of a very important test. She forgets about it and Spencer finds it. Planning for their future ensues.

TW: Mentions of pregnancy, language, slight mention of injury and blood, dirty talk, talk of breeding, fingering, orgasm denial (non intentional).

Word Count: 2.9k

A.N.: Guess who almost forgot to post today? 😳 This is chapter 10 Spencer as well! Next chapter out on Saturday!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bridgett sits on the edge of her bathtub, picking at the hangnail on her thumb, her leg bouncing up and down quickly as she waits for the timer to go off. Bridgett was now officially almost 7 weeks late, and now she was starting to panic. Spencer and her hadn’t been extremely cautious the entirety of their relationship, even the night in Idaho they weren’t careful, but they were careful enough to not be worried about the outcome. She looks at the timer on her phone, how the hell had it only been 30 seconds?

How am I going to tell Spencer? How am I going to tell the team? Can I even still work if I’m pregnant? JJ worked. Just not in the field. Do I still even want to work after I have the baby? What am I going to name the baby? Is it going to look like me, or Spencer? What if I have twins? Nana Rosie is a twin. Twins run in the family. Am I going to let my family see the baby? Am I going to tell my family I’m having a baby? Why did you let him cum in you, you idiot?!

“Bridgett?” Spencer’s voice echoes through her apartment.

“I-uh-I’m in the bathroom. Hold on!” She yells back, grabbing the test and throwing it in one of the drawers in the sink.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Bridgett flips the sink handle on quickly to drown out the sound of her panic.

Well you gave him the key! Of course he’s going to come over unannounced, you dummy.

“Okay, you’re fine. Relax. Just don’t mention the fact you might have his child growing inside you!” Bridgett whisper yells to herself in the mirror. She wets the rag hanging up on the wall and presses it against her face, taking deep breaths before drying her face and shutting the water off and heading out to see her boyfriend. Bridgett can hear him fiddling around in the kitchen, one of the pans falling to the floor loudly, Spencer cussing to himself. Bridgett laughs, making him turn around.

“Hi.” He smiles innocently, picking the pan up off the floor and putting it in her sink.

Bridgett smiles, leaning up to kiss him. “Hi my love. Whatcha doing?”

“Well, I wanted to make you dinner since tomorrow is a special day and we have work tomorrow. And these… are for you.” Spencer pulls a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back, trying to play it off as a magic trick but he really pulled them off the counter behind him. But Bridgett wasn’t going to let him know she knew his secret.

“Aww, thank you baby. They’re very pretty.” She gushes, kissing him twice. “Can you hand me the tall vase up there above your head?”

“I should tell you, one of the flowers is fake. I also have this card for you.” He says, pulling the card out of his satchel.

It was a homemade card, cut in the shape of a heart. She pouted her lip out exaggerated, making puppy dog eyes at him. It could have been the possible pregnancy hormones, or the fact that her boyfriend was the sweetest person on the face of this earth, but she could have cried right then.

“You gotta read it too.” Spencer says, beaming down at her.

Bridgett opens the card, a short message written on the inside.

“My love for you will last until the final flower dies. I will forever be grateful that I have you and have the pleasure of loving you. -Spencer”

Bridgett melts into his arms, nuzzling into his chest. “I love you so much, Spence.”

“I love you too.” He responds, pressing a kiss to her head. “I’m going to make a little surprise first for you in the kitchen, why don’t you go take a nap, because you need to not be anywhere in there.” Spencer says, gripping her shoulders and turning her around toward her room.

“Are you kicking me out of my own kitchen?” Bridgett laughs at Spencer herding her out of the room and into her room.

“Take a nap, and I’ll come join you in about an hour.”

“Okay.” She responds, kissing his lips lightly. “Just don’t burn my kitchen down.”

Spencer rolls his eyes teasingly and shuts the door behind him. Bridgett kicks her shorts off and climbs into bed, snuggling underneath her sheets.

***

“Bridge?... Bridge?... Bridgy?” Spencer calls her name, softly shaking her shoulder. Bridgett finally jumps awake, her eyes wide as she looks at Spencer. Once she registers that it was Spencer she lays her head back down on the pillow.

“Hmm?”

“Do you uh… have band aids? I had an incident.”

Bridgett lifts her head to look at where his wound was but Spencer hid his hands behind his back where she couldn’t see.

“In my bathroom. First drawer on your left. Are you bleeding to death?”

“No! I’m…” Spencer stops mid sentence, his voice tapering off.

Bridgett waits for him to finish his thought but the room falls silent again.

“Spence?” Bridgett calls out, lifting her head again. The door to her bedroom was still open but she could see the light to her bathroom reflecting under the door. “Spence? Did you find them?” She asks again, kicking the sheets off and crawling out of bed . Bridgett pushes the door open and sees Spencer still standing in her bathroom, his back turned away from her.

“Spence? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself that bad?”

Spencer turns around, the blue and white stick in his hand.

Shit.

“Shit.” Bridgett sighs, gnawing at her bottom lip.

“Are you… are you pregnant?” Spencer asks, looking back at the test.

“I don’t know… I took the test and was waiting and then I heard you come in so I threw it in the drawer and forgot about it.”

“Do you think you are?”

Bridgett shrugs her shoulders, “I’m late. I didn’t get my period last month and I was supposed to get it a week and a half ago and it never came so I just wanted to see. It could be a lot of reasons why I’m late but me being pregnant could be a big reason. We’ve never been careful, and I’ve been lax on my birth control.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re late sooner? Tell me you were going to take a test?”

“Because why worry you unless it’s real? I don’t think having a baby is something both of us really want… at least not right now. Right?”

“I always figured if you got pregnant, then it just happened and you would decide what you wanted to do from there, if not then we would just wait until we were ready.”

“Are the results still on there?” Bridgett asks, walking up to Spencer. He shows her the test, the screen reading.

Inconclusive

“Damn it. I’m going to have to take another one.”

“Do you want me to run to the store and get you another test?” Spencer questions, throwing the stick in the trash.

“No, the box comes with two. I didn’t take the other one. I can actually do it now.” Bridgett says, grabbing the extra test and opening the wrapper around it. Spencer stayed in place, watching her.

“Spence… I would rather you not watch me please.”

“Right, sorry.” He awkwardly replies, exiting the room.

Spencer paces around the living room waiting for Bridgett to be done. His head was swimming with “What if’s”. And maybe he was a little excited to possibly be a dad, it might not have been when he wanted, but he’s always heard people say “You’re never fully ready to be a parent.” And maybe they weren’t ready but they would figure it out together.

“Okay we have to wait 3 minutes.” Bridgett says, walking into the living room to see Spencer still pacing. “You’re nervous.”

“Ye-yeah a little bit. Aren’t you?”

Bridgett sits on the couch crisscross, patting the spot next to her. Spencer joins her on the couch, putting his hands on top of hers that were shaking a little bit.

“Yeah of course I am. This definitely wasn’t in our plans but if I’m pregnant… then we’re going to be parents.” She laughs a little bit. “And I’m kind of excited to possibly raise a baby with you.”

“Yeah, I am too.” Spencer says, kissing the back of her hand. “And I hope they look like you.”

Maybe being possibly pregnant wasn’t absolutely horrible. Sure Spencer was scared, but he was taking it a lot easier than Bridgett thought he was. There was no doubt that Spencer was going to be the world’s best dad, especially since his own father wasn’t there.

“Since when has 3 minutes felt like 3 hours?” Spencer complains.

“This is my second time waiting, trust me I know the feeling.”

The pair sat together trying to find anything to talk about to distract them from how slow time was actually moving. But everything that they talked about somehow led back to Bridgett potentially being pregnant.

Finally the timer that Bridgett had set went off, both Spencer and Bridgett getting up from the couch together and walking to the bathroom. Bridgett walks in by herself, picking up the plastic stick and looking at the digital screen. Bridgett bit her bottom lip to avoid making the face she wanted to make.

Disappointed.

Bridgett looks over at Spencer, handing him the test with a sad look on her face.

“No?” Spencer questions, taking it from her and looking for himself.

“No. I guess my body is stressed out and that’s why I’m late. But I’m not pregnant.” She responds, a hint of disappointment in her tone.

Spencer kisses her shoulder, trying to make her feel better.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know it was a scary thought at first, but then once we started talking about it, the thought of having a baby with you sounded perfect.”

“Maybe we should talk some more about it.” Bridgett says matter of factly.

“Yeah? You want to start a family?” Spencer asks, trying to suppress a smile from creeping across his face.

“Come lay down with me in bed and we can talk about it.”

Both of them walk out into her bedroom, Spencer crawling in first and Bridgett laying right on top of him, laying her head on his chest and Spencer’s fingers playing with her hair instantly.

“So, you’re serious about wanting a baby with me?” Spencer asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Yeah, if I wasn’t serious I wouldn’t continue having unprotected sex with you. We’ve been together for 5 years, you know minus me leaving for a year and then you know you were involved with someone else when I came back. You’ve been a part of my life for 8 years and I would like to think it’s time to maybe be a ‘conventional’ couple and have a baby… or two.”

“Or two? Let’s get past the first one and then we’ll talk about a second one.”

“Maybe we should try for… hmmm 6.” Bridgett jokes, turning onto her belly to see her boyfriend's reaction.

Spencer gives off a fake laugh, rolling his head against the pillow under him. “I don’t think so. We can talk about having…” Spencer pauses, thinking before he answers. “Three. Maybe 4. 4 might take some convincing.”’

“I think both you and I know I can be very good at convincing.” Bridgett says with a playful smile on her face. She sits up on her knees, pulling Spencer up to sit up against her headboard, he licks his lips as Bridgett climbs in his lap, smirking at him as she settles into him, rubbing his face.

“You think you have me wrapped around your finger don’t you, pretty girl?”

“Ask the team, they’ll confirm you are. It’s not a bad thing. I like that you’d do anything to make me happy. Because I’d do the same.”

Spencer kisses her lips softly, careful not to make any sudden moves that would lead to the multiple rounds of sex they were going to have anyways.

“You do a lot to make me happy, Bridgy. You didn’t complain about going to the Edgar Allen Poe puppet theater with me even though I know you didn’t want to go. Or any of the lectures you’ve gone with me to. All the Doctor Who episodes you’ve sat through.”

“I want to make your nerdy brain happy.” Bridgett smiles, kissing him again, wrapping her arms around his neck and moaning into his mouth. She quickly pulls back from the kiss.

“You know I mean ‘nerdy’ in the most loving way possible, right?”

Spencer laughs, squeezing her cheeks in his hands, making her look like a little chipmunk. “Yes I know.”

Bridgett nods her head, going back in for a kiss. It wasn’t long before both of them were shirtless and needy for each other, Spencer nipping at the skin on her exposed chest when Bridgett pulls back from the kiss for air, which makes her whine.

“Are you trying to make a baby tonight?” Bridgett jokes, feeling Spencer’s soft touch on her shoulder blade while he sucks the light tan skin of her collarbone. Bridgett gasps, feeling him lick the bruise he was making.

“Why not? We could try for a Halloween baby.” He whispers in her ear. “We both love Halloween.” Spencer’s fingers slipping underneath her underwear and diving right into her soaking wet middle.

Bridgett’s head falls back a sigh of relief echoing in the room, feeling his fingers slip inside her. “Sounds like a plan.” She responds, drowning everything else going on in her mind out and focusing on the pleasure her boyfriend was giving her.

“Lay down right here in between my legs.” Spencer says, assisting Bridgett down onto her back. She rests her legs on both sides of Spencer’s upper thighs, open to him, but a fabric barrier standing between what Spencer was craving. He pulls the waistband down her hips, Bridgett lifting her butt up to get them all the way off.

“So pretty.” Spencer says low, massaging both sides of her inner thighs. Bridgett watches Spencer’s face as he studies her body; every curve she has, the stretch marks she was still insecure about, the cute moles scattered throughout her stomach. He gives his middle and ring finger a coating of spit then slides his fingers back inside her. Spencer loved being able to see her full body reaction to his touch. She massaged her nipples as he played with the wetness, moaning softly.

“I love you, Spence.”

Spencer looks over at her angelic face, her brown eyes were half open but were focused on him.

“I love you too. Just think, in a few months we’re going to have proof of our love. You want me to put a baby in you?”

Bridgett didn’t know what it was, but hearing Spencer ask if he wanted her to put a baby in her made her clench around his fingers. It turned her on to hear him want to take their relationship to the next level.

“Yes. I want you to put a baby in me, Spence. I want to have your baby.”

His fingers continued to thrust in and out of her dripping core, trying to quickly coax an orgasm out of her before fucking her. Bridgett stared at him, the best she could, as he fingered her. She almost wanted to take a picture of the way his mouth was parted, his tongue licking his lips every so often which made his lips look so plump and kissable. Spencer could tell when she was close every single time by the way her body tensed, and her walls got more slick, and this time was no different.

“Oh shit.” He cusses, pulling his fingers out of her quickly, making Bridgett whine loudly and desperately. Spencer awkwardly gets out of bed and runs out of the room.

Bridgett rolls onto her stomach, laying flat against her mattress, annoyed that she was denied her orgasm seconds before overcoming her. A few minutes pass and Spencer comes back in quietly, laying his head against the small of her back, kissing her bare skin.

“I’m mad at you.” She mumbles, her face still buried in the mattress. “I was so close.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I was so distracted that I forgot about the cake I was making you in the oven… it’s kinda good I remembered because I didn’t burn it.”

“I would have rather you let me cum.” She mutters, still not looking at Spencer.

Spencer snorts, wrapping his arms around her body, placing kisses on her back. “Can I at least show it to you before you stay mad at me?”

Bridgett turns her head to look at her boyfriend, narrowing her eyes at him before turning back over and getting out of bed, throwing her T-shirt back on and slipping her underwear back on. Spencer looks at her, proud of his work. Bridgett looks at the cake pan that was in the shape of a heart, the closer she looks at the cake she noticed it was a giant cookie.

“Awww you made me a cookie cake?”

“Yeah, I know you’re not a huge fan of birthday cake and you like cookies better so I made this.” Spencer looked like a toddler who was showing off their drawing they made.

Bridgett grabs Spencer’s cheek and kisses him sweetly. “I love you, so, so much. Why are you so perfect?”

Spencer kisses her forehead twice, “I love you too. I still have some stuff to do to finish it, but I need to finish something else first.” He says, pulling her arm to bring her closer.

“And what would that be?”

“I think you know. Baby time.”

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid smut fic #spencer reid series #spencer reid x oc character #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler fan fiction #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler fan fic #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds #part of you fic

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fmbishop · 4 years ago

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* I'VE GOT MY VEINS ALL TANGLED CLOSE .

* ╰ chicago’s very own 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐣𝐚𝐡 𝐛𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩 has been spotted on madison avenue driving a 1960 vintage jeep bronco , welcome ! your resemblance to 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒏 is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty - first birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re 𝒄𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 , but being 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 might help you . i think being a taurus explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be 𝒑𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑 𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒆 , 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒄𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 , & 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒔 𝒓𝒖𝒃𝒃𝒆𝒅 𝒓𝒂𝒘 . ( i cut ties with my best friend and collaborator because i was secretly in love with her , but our publicist had her date my brother instead . ) & ( cis male + he / him ) + ( ruby , 18+ , she / her , pst )

 𝒊 . 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒔 .

𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 : elijah alexander bishop 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 : eli , e . from his loved ones , he recieves variations on ellie , ugly ass mustache head , tony hawk , and zumiez employee of the month . 𝒂𝒈𝒆 : twenny - won 𝒛𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒄 : taurus 𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : professional skateboarder and youngest x games gold medalist in history , brand ambassador for several skate fashion brands , established youtube vlogger , and aspiring filmmaker . 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚 / 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔 : cis male / he him his 𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : heterosexual , heteroromantic 𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 : 5’11 𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒔 : the black sheep , the despondent , the fallen angel , the isolato , the intangible concept , the dirtbag , the doryphore 𝒌𝒆𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔 : - churlish , emotionally reserved , hesitant , resentful , self - sabotaging + steadfast , benevolent , chivalrous , reliable , down to earth 𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 : hufflepuff 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒔 : that’s on me - mac miller / obstacle 1 - interpol / just my luck - marc e bassy & blackbear / EARFQUAKE - tyler the creator / superfast jellyfish - gorillaz / here comes a feeling - louis the child / horseshoes and handgrenades - green day / boys don’t cry - the cure / SUGAR - brockhampton / slow dancing in the dark - joji / come back to earth - mac miller / swing , swing - the all american rejects

𝒊𝒊 . 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 .

harold and lillian bishop welcome the heirs to the bishop throne on an early may morning . ceo of the multi-billion dollar bishop industries construction empire , and partner of the bishop & franklin international law firm respectively , the boys enter into the shadow of a last name prepared to build onto its own legacy . eli comes into the light moments after his brother , a hand firmly grasped onto the ankle of his twin , victorious to emerge into the world first . parallel to the biblical brothers jacob and esau , his nurse notes , but his parents pay no mind . on the whim of a meaningless sequence , the elder twin is delegated as the champion of the bishop legacy , to bear the weight of their family empire and its subsequent legacy on his shoulders with pride .

elijah , on the heel of his brother , isaiah , by a mere fraction of a second , bears the weight of his second-coming due to such a christening for the rest of his upbringing .

the black sheep is perhaps too delicate of a phrasing to explain the conflict stirring daily in the bishop household , a family of perfection — and elijah , the foil to them all , a failure by definition , perhaps crafted simply to emphasize the feats of his twin brother . he’s smaller , scrawnier , slower to pick up school work and requiring relentless tutoring and support throughout his elementary school years . sensitive and introverted , he spends the first decade of his life cowering behind isaiah as a shield , receiving constant critiques of not enough , not good enough , not close enough to —

he tries not to focus on his shortcomings , as plentiful as his parents may convince him that there may be . any expression other than a stoic compliance is seen as contumacious , swiftly corrected with a ‘ i wish you would be more like your brother . ’ eli withers into himself shortly after his 12th birthday , the onset of puberty and a discovery for a natural athletic inclination giving him some semblance of musculature , his jaw sharpening and gaze taking a similar harshness . his body becomes a fortress , the only protection he can implement as his brother begins to split from him , taking on more responsibility as the twins are brought increasingly into the spotlight of their family name and fortune .

each moment harboring a critique only stokes resentment behind each clenched jaw and tight lipped smile eli has to fake . he knows its all for show , his brother is the only true heir written into their legacy regardless of what path he chooses to take . bearing the weight of a whole family tree of disappointment , eli takes on odd hobbies and begins to compose bits and pieces of himself as the him he wants to be , dismantling the illusion composed by expectations to mirror his infallible brother . by 13 , his secretive hobby becomes an increasingly viable career in skateboarding , by 17 , he’s hired his own agent and moves out on his own to escape the increasing burdens of being the bishop legacy disappointment . his parents all but excommunicate him , and he spends spans of month-long silences between them with only his brother to bridge such gaps . eli is gnarled and hidden away from the glitz and glamour he had grown so comfortable with , navigating his shattered self-image and desire to amount to something entirely on his own — but at the very least , he’s free .

it’s a tabloid’s dream , the black sheep of the bishop family , reuniting with his herd for their move to new york . eli is resentful and bitter at the idea of uprooting himself , but it’s his brother’s impassioned pleas of a reunion that soften eli’s resolve and cause the young skateboarding sensation to follow the rest of his distant family to new york . his brother assures him with honeyed promises of a family reunited , a change of heart of their parents’ callousness , a desire to see the bishops as one . their father’s upcoming retirement and a supposed reflection on the cruelty imposed on his brother are all cited as reasons why eli should just come with them . and eli , hardened and bitter to all but the implorations of his brother ( and perhaps a gnawing desire for some sort of familial validation after a lifetime of being dubbed the disappointment , ) begrudgingly follows through .

their parents do not .

it awakens a particular emotion within eli to see his parents for the first time in nearly 2 years and be received with the same coldness he had been seen off with at their last meeting . backhanded compliments follow fronthanded insults and it ends with eli and his father in a screaming match , fingers jabbed dangerously into chests and tempers on full blare . the betrayal comes not from a set of parents who didn’t want him — eli knew it was entirely too good to be true to be taken as the prodigal son . the betrayal , he laments , is in the falsities told by his brother , the one person who had spent so long protecting him and had now allowed him to walk without guard into the lion’s den . eli knows his brother had nothing but the best of intentions and keeps him as the sole bishop contact : this is the last he talks to his parents after years of torment .

they stay in new york together and fill their time with work and the occasional youtube video at the behest of their management , random vlogs that surprisingly take off . the bishop twins become something of an internet sensation — isaiah a charming and composed law student , eli a brooding and unkempt skater boy , with a dynamic that viewers are quick to fall in love with . they turn out content on a regular basis , building a fanbase through their vlogs that begs for collaborations and ‘ linking up . ‘ they go through the motions of collabs until one particular set of youtubers have a chemistry with the twins that their fans eat up . quickly hired to the same management team , the bishops create a mini vlog squad with their friends , a dynamic that finds eli more emotionally invested than he’d care to admit . but forever the self - saboteur , he keeps himself from admitting these feelings to their collaborator , repressing them until an email from their publicist reveals plans to have her date isaiah for the sake of views .

eli , despite having kept his feelings from practically everyone in his life , takes the move personally and cuts off all work with their collaborator , the ensuing drama being enough to keep his publicist happy despite whatever happens between her and his brother . their group goes back to being a duo , a secret for eli to keep perhaps to his grave , and he pushes to forge on with creating a name for himself out of the shadow of his family .

( um for context slash anyone who knew version one of eli we’re gonna say he got sick of the celeb world and went backpacking through southern asia w no phone n no outside contacts , just recently returned to ny after the past 2 months of isolation ! )

𝒊𝒊𝒊 . 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

i’m so excited to bring eli back . … i love wealthy sm lemme give y’all a few bullets for the rundown of the uglie mean sk8r boi that u should all say ‘ see u l8r boi ‘

as the bio implies , he had a really tough upbringing in the shadow of his perfect brother . a lot of his parents’ cruelty resulted in the personality he has now .

eli is most known for his resentment of wealth and fame . in the celeb world , he’s always known as the one who’s just a normal guy . super down to earth and constantly critiquing ppl who let the fame get to their head

in a way , he gets this weird sense of superiority that’s super hypocritical ? like he thinks he’s better than the rich ppl bc he doesn’t act boujie .. . . . but ? he’s rich too ? just bc ur chinos r ripped doesnt make u better than anyone else u dumb bitch

super , and i cannot emphasize this enough , SUPER emotionally constipated . he acts like he’s above it all to serve as his defense mechanism bc on the real he’s terrified of being rejected by people the way his own parents rejected him . his solution ? if u act like u don’t give a shit , nobody can hurt u .

if he’s not angry ranting , he’s honestly p stoic . nobody knows what he’s thinkin or feelin which is how he likes it . it gets real annoying when he keeps playing the cool disconnected guy n ur like ‘ what do u want for lunch ‘ n he’s like ‘ i dont give a fuck ‘ n ur like ‘ we know dumbass edgelord we still gotta EAT tho ‘

on that ranting note , he’s usually pretty reserved and calm during things like interviews or talking to fans . when he’s in touchier situations , his defense mechanism is to switch to his hairpin trigger hostility .

ig he feels like he has something to prove by being the tough guy so he just ? gets mad super easily instead of processing his feelings like a normal person ? he detaches himself from his emotions bc he has a really fucked sense of self - worth and has an eternal belief he’s not worthy of happiness so he’ll sabotage himself to no end

shockingly sensitive and will hold onto his pain as if to fuel him . he takes disloyalty personally and will often hold onto abandonment or slights that happened years ago because they genuinely affected him , even if he didn’t show so at the time .

in terms of the celeb life : he’s p low key . isn’t much of a partier bc he has social anxiety sdfsd but he’s comfy sipping a beer on the patio as long as everyone else stays inside lmao . he’s cool w hookups but isn’t actively sleeping around ? like he could prob live like a fuckboy but rlly surprises u when he doesn’t do the fuckboy thing .. … . it’s the sensitive boy in him or somethin idk.. . .. mayb he just can’t care enough .. .. it’s the apathy … .

when he’s not seeing red , he’s rational man meant to BUST everyone’s stupidity . usually the only mfer w common sense in the squad to plan ahead n shit but if someone pushes his homies ? eli comes out SWINGING n then avoids all the tabloids about him sloppy fighting in the club like he’s mariah carey n can’t read or somethin

cannot flirt for the life of him , says dumb shit like ‘ u smell nice ‘ and hopes his muscles do all the talking lmao fuckin BEEFCAKE

on the real , when he’s calm n collected he can be surprisingly sweet and this is when the down to earth comes in . doesn’t get attached to many but to the few he does , he defends to the end and is the type to sacrifice whatever it is to protect them . this mans LOVES his friends and ppl are surprised to see how kind he can b bc he’s usually masking his kindness with his brutishness lmao .

he’s also ? surprisingly funny ? we’ll see abt that tho bc most of his shit is deadpan

most of the time : just fuckin . mean as hell sdfsdf

anarchist mfer ! he said FUCK the system , it’s a big skate energy and he tries to be as creative and undefined as possible . follows random whims as he learns to be less self conscious bc now he’s his own brand and doesn’t have to always think about ‘ whats best for the family ’ and all that bs ! he’s rlly passionate abt skate culture and originality and is a really big outspoken feminist / social activist bc what’s more punk than dismantling the patriarchy and other oppressive power structures ?

on that note . lowkey . a simp KWHRJWE he acts hard and won’t let any man come after him but he’s afraid 2 be mean to girls n lets most of his female friends bully him while he does the office stare in2 the camera .

i always stick random blurbs downhere but the mans is vegan , cares more about his car than anything , spends most of his time in his ratty skate clothes that barely get washed bc they ‘ hold the energy better ’ ( nastie ) , if it aint sk8 shoes its socks w sandals n he doesn’t get whats wrong w that , he’s a hufflepuff n a ISTJ-T myers briggs ( The Logistician ) , n tbh he really just appreciates the little things in life ? thats eli my lil meat head .

#wealthyhq:intro #as always like and i'll come 2 u 4 plots ! 💖🥰#back at it again w the clownery 🤡#all old members : we can def keep old plots if wanted or revamp ! lmk ! 🥰

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apple-grass-and-smiles · 5 years ago

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Leading Us Home

In an absolutely miraculous and never-to-be-seen-again series of events, inspiration struck twice in the course of 24 hours, so you get another Batcat story adapted from a Taylor Swift song and thousands of words in various chats about the meaning of home to Selina.

Summary: Selina has a motto: "You can't have a home if you don't have a house."

Selina, at her most basic, core self, has a pretty major issue with the word ‘home’. Like most important (but sad) ideas that become fundamental to understanding an individual, it’s an issue that started when she was a child. Selina remembers being six, maybe seven, the first time she got caught by the police. The officer was a large man who clearly was more interested in the baseball game going on in the background than Selina or the fact that she was so malnourished that you could count all her ribs if you bothered to give her more than a cursory glance. She can still see him bending down to look her in the eye, completely ignoring the bruises and cuts that covered every inch of her skin, and asking her where home was.

Even at the tender age of six or seven, Selina was smart enough to recognize that as a stupid question. So she gave it all the weight it deserved and simply shrugged before replying, “You ain’t got no home if you ain’t got no house.”

It’s a phrase that even now, at age 32, Selina Kyle stands by.

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When Selina was about 20, her mother sent her a letter. In it were far too many paragraphs where she apologized profusely for any of her words to feel even the slightest bit sincere. She would have happily burned the letter without a second thought if not for the picture included. In the partially ripped, incredibly stained photo stood a young Maria, eyes with bags beneath them, standing in front of a dilapidated brownstone with a tiny infant in her arms. The letter explained that the one-bedroom apartment had been home to Maria, Selina, and the unnamed photographer for the first year or so of Selina’s life. The address, Maria wrote, was 416 Lily Dr. and she hoped that maybe knowing where Selina had come would somehow help her know where she was going. The idea was, of course, completely stupid, because that building might have been where she learned to walk and say her first word and smiled for the first time, but the only record of those things were Maria’s memories and Selina was past the point of harboring any dreams that her mother would one day come back to share those distant memories with her daughter.

After all, you don’t have a home if all that’s left is a pitiful photo and an address for a house.

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St. Maria’s orphanage ended up being “home” for Selina until she was about 10 and had realized that sleeping underneath the bridge with a ratty blanket was better than sharing a twin bed with two other girls and having to dress up once a week to see if someone wanted to try and adopt her. (The nuns always described her as a free spirit, but everyone seemed to know that the term simply meant that Selina would never sit still long enough to make herself at home and would instead leave with a backpack full of your food and whatever she could snag from your wallet.) All in all, the orphanage wasn’t the worst place ever and she got off relatively easily in comparison to some of the other abandoned children she knew, but it also could never be mistaken for a home. Everything about the place, from the mismatched floor tiles to the peeling wallpaper that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to stay on the walls or accept it’s death, screamed of impermanence. Nothing and no one in the building wanted to stay. The girls wanted to go to families. The nuns wanted to go to mass. The hopes and dreams of everyone within wanted to go to people who could actually have a shot at realizing them.

To be fair to the nuns and the orphanage and the dying wallpaper, it wasn’t their fault. Everyone knows you can’t make a home out of a place meant for escaping.

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Selina was 13 when someone once again tried to give her an address to stay at. By 13 she was pretty certain homes and houses were meant for people with bank accounts and three meals a day and that she’d have to be content with squats and crash pads and surprisingly large cardboard boxes along the pier. She wasn’t particularly bitter about this information as much as she was ready for everyone to stop trying to prove her wrong.

But, sadly for her, Jim Gordon was the type of person who was incredibly determined to convince Selina that she was wrong so he arranged for her to stay with Bruce Wayne while the rookie cop attempted to track down the false leads she had given him. Even now, decades later, Selina can hear the creak of the large doors echoing as the butler opened the front door and welcomed Selina inside for the first time. By age 13 Selina felt quite confident that she had seen the best Gotham had to offer, but this mansion was something else entirely. It was the kind of place that could house every homeless kid she spoke to in a month and have none of them ever run into each other. She could have survived her entire life off of stealing the small, but priceless trinkets within the mansion. No one would even have noticed and she would have maybe been able to afford a nice sleeping bag.

Selina had wandered into the foyer as the adult men talked in the entryway. It was a strange place, the Wayne Manor, it seemed torn between proving that it belonged to the great and noble Wayne family and desperately attempting to convince you that you were safe and loved and understood by the people who lived within its walls. Everywhere there were signs of wealth, but there were also signs of someone, maybe the mother, working to make the manor a home. There were family photos, not portraits, on various walls, board games, so many records and record players that Selina stopped counting at 16, all of which seemed meant to serve only to encourage visitors to ignore the empty chill of the enormous rooms.

Selina, with all the wisdom of a 13-year-old who was tired of fake displays of love already, simply rolled her eyes and headed up the stairs to investigate a very nice blue and white vase. Didn’t the manor’s decorator know that a manor isn’t a house and you can’t have a home without a house?

******************************************************************************

By age 17, Selina Kyle knew the Wayne Manor better than anyone else. Alfred would have, and did, argue with her about this particular statement, but she refused to relinquish the title. After all, he had arranged for the security system and he didn’t know if half as well as Selina did. (At the beginning of this years-long argument, Bruce had foolishly suggested that perhaps he was the one who knew the mansion best, which prompted Selina to throw her spaghetti bolognese at him while Alfred pretended to not notice; Bruce had quickly withdrawn his name from the competition.) Selina certainly didn’t live at the manor, but there was always the same room made up for her and ready should she ever decide to stop by. The room was nice and Bruce had even put a small stuffed cat on the bed sometime when she was 14, but it was not the room she spent the most time in. Instead, the little, informal kitchen and dining room was the spot in the manor that most captured her heart. She knew that room perhaps better than anywhere else in the world. She knew that the fourth wood plank from the door creaked and had memorized exactly how to walk to not make any noise. She knew that the bush of cornelias underneath the window by the sink smelled best during the summer rainstorms and that if you only opened the window a few inches you could enjoy the smell without letting any rain into the room. Looking back, she blessed every one of the moments she spent in that room with the rain gently tapping on the roof and the smell of the flowers filling the kitchen. (One time Bruce had bought her a cornelia flower perfume and the poor boy was baffled to discover that she refused to wear it when it wasn’t raining out.)

It was exactly one of these rainy afternoons when Selina realized that perhaps she was too close to the manor and its inhabitants. She had snuck in earlier than morning and helped herself to a sandwich before settling in in the kitchen. She knew Bruce and Alfred would be out and had been excited to see their faces when they returned to find an extra, unexpected person in the house. However, when they returned with bags full of groceries, they greeted Selina like she had been there the whole time and simply declined the offer to go grocery shopping, not as if she had broken in. Bruce had assured her that they had remembered to get her the pomegranate juice and granola bars she liked since she had run out last week and Alfred had reminded her that the sweater she had left there a couple days ago was at the dry cleaners and should be ready to be picked up later this afternoon if she would be so kind as to grab it the next time she went into the city. And then, with a sense of horror washing over her, Selina realized she knew exactly where to put all the items in the grocery bag she’d been handed to unload. So, she raced to put the asparagus in its drawer, the lightbulbs in the mudroom off to the left of the dining room, and the cinnamon in its proper place in the spice rack, before dashing off to grab the imaginary book that she had supposedly left in her room.

Selina’s heart seemed about to beat out of her chest as she looked around the room (her room?) at the drawers that had her clothes and her bathroom full of the combs and products that kept her hair manageable and the little gifts and trinkets spread over the shelves from birthdays and Christmases and apologies for running off to the stupid chalet in Switzerland. It just couldn’t do. She was a street kid, a cat, not someone who could be tied down to a room with a bed and curtains and her favorite foods and her absolute favorite people. So that night she packed everything she could into her little backpack and ran away.

Because who was she kidding? A girl like her could never have a home in a house like that.

******************************************************************************

Bruce crashes with her for a week during the year the bridges were blown. She can’t remember why, but vaguely thinks it might have been because of her incident with the scalpel. He probably passed it off as giving Alfred space or helping make sure nothing went wrong with the root that was healing her spine, but she remembers a distinct sense that Bruce was waiting for her to collapse into a ball and die at any moment. And that feeling got really old, really fast. In a city like Gotham, especially during that year, oftentimes the safest places were rooftops, so Selina had snuck out of her room late one September evening and climbed onto the roof. She had sat there for no longer than 20 minutes when Bruce emerged from her window. The autumn night was mostly warm, but the wind would pick up every so often and send a chill through her body. He hadn’t been out on the roof for more than a minute or so before he slipped his jacket around her shoulders. The gesture caught her off-guard for a moment, but the past few months of her life had been nightmarish and every night felt so unreal that she chose to ignore the voices in her head screaming for her to move away because sharing your heart with someone means letting them choose if they protect it of if they break it and settled in beside the young man next to her.

Selina was young and still didn’t have a house, but maybe houses were overrated and the right person was all that was required to make a home.

******************************************************************************

Bruce leaves a few months later and it feels like he’s finally revealed that this was simply a years-long con and she had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. The manor was gone and Alfred didn’t know how to react around her and Jim was busy and Barbara had a baby and everyone seemed to think that she must know how to get ahold of Bruce because no one who really loved someone would leave without a good-bye.

But he did.

He left without a good-bye and instead let a note that spoke of home and how she would always matter to him and have a place in his soul break her heart for him. But, she told herself, it was fine. After all, Wayne Manor was blown to smithereens and you ain’t got no home if you ain’t got no house so it didn’t matter that the person who had made her feel at home had left without saying good-bye..

******************************************************************************

The manor was rebuilt by the time Selina was 20. She and Alfred had worked hard to make it as close to the original as possible. The only purposeful difference were the carpets in the study because neither could muster the strength to buy ones identical to the carpet that Selina had nearly bled out on. She spent a grand total for four days in the new manor before running away.

Alfred may have been determined that this new house could be a home, but Selina knew it just wasn’t going to be the case.

******************************************************************************

The first apartment she rents legally is with her paycheck from the Martha Wayne Foundation. She had successfully bid for a small position helping to plan events for the Foundation and while she suspects that the job was given to her solely because no one wanted to figure out if denying Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend a job in his mother’s charity would be what it took to bring him back from wherever he was off hiding, she didn’t push it. Regardless of the reason for her getting the job, Selina loved the work and loved the status and the apartment that she got as a result of her work. It had been maybe a year after Gotham was reunited with the mainland that Selina had realized that the only way she was going to be able to get the kind of scores and respect she so desperately craved from Gotham’s underworld was if she could make a space for herself in the city’s ruling class. After all, Barbara had been a socialite and Lee had married a Falcone and been respected by the entire GCPD. If Selina was going to get a fraction of the power either of them had had, she was going to need to insert herself into the kind of life Bruce had led. So that’s what she did.

The apartment felt like proof that she could fake her way into a richer world. Gone were the days of squats and sleeping in a different bed every night. Now her apartment was painted a deep purple and had fresh flowers at all times (cornelias because the smell still made her happier than anything else) and a closet full of dresses for galas and cocktail parties and dates with men who got more money from their trust funds in a month than she had ever touched in her life. Was it home? If you had asked Selina that, she would have scoffed at you and rolled her eyes.

After all, you can have the nicest house in the world, but if you’re faking belonging there, it will never be a home.

******************************************************************************

The party was barely even starting when Bruce Wayne left and asked the valet to bring him his car. He’d only been back in Gotham for six months and parties felt even more tedious and ridiculous now than they had before he’d left for a decade. Besides, Selina had been there and he still wasn’t certain where they stood (if you had asked him where Batman and Catwoman stood in relation to each other he probably would have been able to give a more concrete answer, but even that was a big ‘probably’). So of course he should have been expecting her to be in the passenger seat of his car when he slid into it. And of course he should have been expecting to hear her soft voice casually whisper that she rents a place on Rose Avenue if he wanted to check it out.

She doesn’t give him a chance to decline her offer and he barely manages to mind since he couldn’t have turned her down anyway. Later, after he’s explored the apartment and they’ve explored each other and refused to even consider exploring what their relationship might be like in this new reality, he asks her if she likes her new home.

Selina scoffs in that way that he knows means he shouldn’t have bothered asking such a stupid question in the first place. “Bruce one day you’ll have to learn, just ‘cause someone has a house doesn’t mean they’ve got a home.”

******************************************************************************

After the wedding reception, Bruce grabs his bride’s hand and walks her back to the mansion’s entrance, the one that they’ve been through more times than either could count. Selina couldn’t shake the feeling that walking through those grand front doors should feel different now that she was the Mrs. Wayne who would be working so hard to make the mansion feel like a home, but she didn’t. She had run through those doors as a tiny 13-year-old fleeing for her life. She had climbed through every window in the estate as a 15-year-old unsure of the new relationship unfolding before her. She had wept where the kitchen had once been as a 19-year-old who didn’t know if she was crying for the building that was gone or for the man who had left her to try and rebuild her life on her own. She had helped pick the carpets and wallpaper and artwork that still remained in the manor as a tentative 22-year-old. She had cursed and railed against the world in the east gardens as a 25-year-old learning that the Martha Wayne Foundation would lose 20% of its funding because Wayne Corporation felt it didn’t generate enough good press to deserve the money it had previously received. She had brainstormed with Bruce on the stairs of the foyer as they tried to figure out how to bring peace to their city after another attack from Jerimaiah Valeska as a 29-year-old trying to bond with her childhood friend again. She had snuck barefoot through the kitchen last night when she gave in and accepted she was too excited for her wedding to get any sleep. She had lived so much life in this giant manor that she had once thought could never hold love and peace and happiness in its vast rooms. And the new last name she had claimed didn’t make her any different from the teen who had pushed all the furniture out of the study to dance the the late Waynes’ records with their son. Her whole life, the religion that kept her going on the darkest days, all of it was built into this place.

Bruce insists on carrying her over the threshold because the man is still as much of a sentimentalist as he was when he was a kid who brought her a snowglobe from Switzerland. As he sets her down, he looks her in the eyes and smiles, “Welcome home, Mrs. Wayne.”

Selina, despite her efforts, can’t keep back a laugh at his endearing sincerity. “You know, Mr. Wayne, I used to say that you can’t have a home without a house, but, after thinking about it again, I think a mansion can indeed count as a house.”

“So, you’ll call this home?”

“I think that may just be something I can agree to.”

#Guys seriously #this is never going to happen again #do not hold your breath because it won't #Also I love my unofficial batcat fam for whom this was most definitely written #I still know I have a writing tag somewhere and I still know I don't have a clue what it is #batcat #Selina kyle #bruce wayne #gotham #Also there is nothing more satisfying that cross posting everything all at once

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countryshitposts · 5 years ago

Text

you are still the sons, and he the father

here's a whopping six thousand word fic i've been working on for two weeks so read it you piece of shits

Imsi and Jeguk try finding out why their father is absent from their lives everyday. The truth horrifies them both.

tw for: homophobia

It was a quiet and uneventful day in the Korean home. Chosen was humming to herself as she makes herself breakfast, having skipped out earlier due to errands in the market. She hears Daehan Jeguk and Imsi talking, but decides not to bother them.

"It is quite unnatural that father would disappear every now and then", Jeguk muses as he looks at the bright sun shining down on them, making the flowers move to its direction.

"How long has his strange disappearances been going on?", Imsi asks, looking at Chosen eating her food.

Jeguk thinks for a moment, "Ever since I have come here, he has been disappearing every now and then. There are slight differences in his appearance once he comes home though; wrinkled clothes, messy hair, and a red blush on his cheeks."

Imsi snorts, "I bet he visits brothels at times."

Jeguk chuckles, "Definitely. Although I have some suspicions on the 'brothel' subject."

"Why is that?"

Jeguk takes out a slip of parchment from his sleeves, stained, yet some characters readable. Imsi leans in to look at the parchment, and finds out that it is written in Chinese. Imsi raises a brow, trying to muster the characters and translate it. It is from a man named Ming, who happens to be the last dynasty before Qing had come along.

"It looks to be a letter", Jeguk says, "from a Chinese man."

Imsi rolls his eyes. "No shit Sherlock."

"Whenever father receives his letter", Jeguk continues, ignoring Imsi's statement, "he lights up and dresses himself up."

"Perhaps this man is one of his friends who encourages him to visit brothels?"

"Yes but-", Jeguk narrows his eyes, suspicious as he investigates the letter more, "-this man is using very flattering words in Chinese, too flattering for a friend."

"Let me see", Imsi says as he takes the letter from Jeguk, to inspect it full-heartedly. There were some very, very inappropriate innuendos and statements, but this man talks about how he loves their father with all their might. Imsi furrows a brow, as he looks at Jeguk with eyes wide of realization. "I think I already know why father disappears every so often."

"Yes? And what do we do about it?"

"I'll tell you later."

That night, their father, Joseon, comes back with a delighted expression on his face, covering his neck with his clothing. He did not eat with the rest of his family, claiming he has 'already eaten'. Imsi and Jeguk look towards the back of their father as he ascends towards the stairs.

Imsi leans in towards Jeguk, who was beside Chosen, "He has a lover. A male one."

"Please, this man might just be very affectionate, and our father would never dare cheat on our mother." Jeguk spoonfeeds Chosen, and she smiles in return. Imsi goes back towards his seat and resists the urge to gag at the couple in front of him.

"We'll see about that", Imsi whispers to himself, continuing to eat, trying to ignore the couple activng lovey-dovey in front of him.

Imsi and Jeguk settle out a plan: if their father receives another letter and disappears off into the floods of ancient men and women, they follow after him. They just want to see if their theories were right, and feel like Joseon has been keeping this secret long enough; it needs to be shed to the public light.

Joseon was humming a Chinese melody when Imsi first encounters him. Imsi was just standing by the front lawn, admiring the beautiful flowers littered along the way and appreciating its beauty, when a mailman had scared the life out of him. He says it is for his father, and Imsi takes it from his hands. He narrows his eyes as he carefully unravels it, hoping that once he gives it to Joseon he wouldn't notice the differences.

Imsi furrows his brow as he reads through the letter. This man, just like from the previous letters, has been using very flattering words and sexual innuendos, much to Imsi's embarrassment and dismay. Despite all this, he can feel disgust churn inside of him as he realizes that this man - Ming, he reminds himself - is seemingly seducing their father with his words, and their foolsome of a father has agreed to be swayed into this... atrocity. A crime. Imsi tries not to crumple the paper, but he has the urge to do it, to go to Ming's home and hurt him, and shout at his father for being a sodomite.

The letter ends with another statement of love and care, telling Joseon to meet him at the palace. Imsi carefully puts the letter back to his place, plasters on a straight face despite his disgust and anger, and walks towards Joseon. He can't even unsee his father, the man who had taught him morals and philosophy in his life, a homosexual. A disgusting, grieving homosexual.

"Father, someone has given me this letter. Says it's for you." Imsi tries to look at his father's eyes, but breaks eye contact with him after a few seconds. No matter how much he tries, he cannot look at him in the eye.

"Oh, thank you son", Joseon says as he takes the letter out of Imsi's hand, unfolding it to read its contents. To Imsi's disgust, his father's face starts to redden, his dark eyes shining brightly, rivalling the sun. Imsi's face contorts in disgust, and it deepens when Joseon chuckles and folds the letter, looking at his youngest son with a slight smile.

"Tell the others I am going away for a trip Imsi", Joseon says, holding up a hand to ruffle his hair, but Imsi steps backward, not wanting to be touched. "Ah, it seems you have grown out of my touches."

Imsi nods, playing along. "Honestly, it is quite embarrassing for me to be held like that father." He says with a fake smile.

Joseon laughs light-heartedly, as he goes inside to change. Imsi follows him back to the house, and leans on the table, trying not to listen to Jeguk and Chosen flirting. He elbows Jeguk after the couple laspes into a comfortable silence.

"We follow father", Imsi says, the word 'father' now foreign on his lips, as if this brand new secret he and Jeguk discovered made them think there was more to Joseon than just being their father. He was a sinful man. "We catch him with this 'Ming' person, and we'll see if he truly has a... male lover." Imsi shudders at those last words, while Jeguk purses his lips.

"Alright, we'll see if our current hypothesis is correct", Jeguk says.

"You mean my hypothesis?"

Jeguk gives him a lopsided smile. "I changed my mind of father having an overly clingy friend."

Once their father bid farewell to them, they start to follow him discreetly, letting him walk distant steps so they can keep up with him while maintaining their cover. Once Joseon reaches a beautiful looking palace with Chinese carved across the gates, did they realize that Ming was, say, royalty. Perhaps even richer than their family. This man must be quite important in Joseon and others' lives. After all, he did say something about how a person made his life special and exciting, they just didn't think of it that way.

They spot their father looking through the beautiful scenery of the Chinese' much, much better-looking garden, to the brothers' jealousy. It had fountains, a pond with a curved bridge, the waters clear and full of lilies. They silently walk over it, marvelling the scenario, before turning back to their task. Their task was to put an end to their father's crimes, once and for all. They silently follow Joseon into the palace, hide past the dragon throne where many of the old Chinese dynasties still live, until they reach a beautiful place, comparable to a paradise. It was just like the garden they've seen at front, but much more natural, comfortable, and nostalgic. They then spot Joseon walking towards a man - Ming, presumably - and a familiar woman snuggling up to a man. Perhaps that was her husband.

Imsi and Jeguk hide behind the hedges, trimmed just above their height, as they continue watching their father with narrowed eyes. Joseon was smiling, a blush forming on his cheeks, and the twins can't help but feel disgusted. How could their father abandon his virtues by devouring one's own gender? How could he abandon his masculinity?

Ming noticeably smiles as he sees Joseon nearing him, and the two embrace. Much to the twins' disgust and horror, the two share a kiss on the lips.

"You've joined us again, my Chaoxian", Ming says. Jeguk furrows his brows.

But father had hated that name Qing had always called him, he thinks to himself. But then he looks almost sad, like someone had called him that in a special, meaningful way.

"I'll always join you, even to the afterlife, Myeong", Joseon says softly.

Imsi had remembered seeing his father in tears one night, whispering the name 'Myeong' over and over again, hugging a small painting in his hands. He suddenly can't help but feel sick, remembering how he thought Joseon was crying over a loved one. He was crying over a loved one, but he didn't expect it to be like that. Not even his queens can console him of his old 'friend'.

"Dad, you have to taste the peaches that Ming has harvested recently in his garden", the girl, who was the only woman in the group exclaims, and her husband chuckles.

"I will", Joseon says, chuckling, sitting on Ming's lap, much to his observing sons' dismay.

Imsi and Jeguk look at each other, confuzzled at what they had just heard come out of the girl's mouth.

Father? Jeguk mouths to Imsi, and shrugs, feeling jealousy coming back to him, a conflicting emotional storm wishing to wreck his ship of happiness, like it always does for his whole life. He can feel a cloud of emotions churning inside of him, waiting to burst.

And it did, when he sees Joseon and Ming passionately making out. He angrily steps forward, wanting to shout at his father, but his brother beats him to it, having enough of this tomfoolery.

"Father." Jeguk's tone was full of anger, his face seething with rage. The girl and her husband look up at the newcomer, while Joseon and Ming quickly break apart. Imsi is very quick to follow, crossing his arms while standing beside his brother, both of them giving each other support.

"Jeguk? Imsi?" Joseon's tone was panicked, as he stands up from where he was sitting. "W-what are you doing here?"

"Checking up on you", Jeguk spits, "you've been disappearing from our home for so many years, we didn't think to care where you have gone."

"We let those years slide", Imsi replies, anger evident. "We let those years slide because we thought you were innocent and were attending meetings."

Ming stands up, clearly disliking the attitude his lover's sons were displaying. "And your father is innocent! How dare you talk to your father like that!"

"This is none of your business", Jeguk snipes, giving Ming a cold hard glare, "this is between me, my brother, and our father."

"Tell us, father", Imsi says, the last word full of poison and Joseon visibly flinches. "Do you feel satisfied of letting a man - a man! - touch you that way? Do you feel like you are comitting a crime, an atrocity? Because we certainly think you are!"

"And you dare replace us as your sons with this girl?!", Jeguk says, pointing at Ryukyu, who was ready to defend herself and her father figures, but Malacca holds her down, glaring daggers at the two brothers. "Does becoming a parent increase your chance to be a virtuous man that needs respect?"

Joseon comes up empty with words, mind blank, body shaking.

Good, Imsi thinks, let him be ashamed of himself.

Joseon turns to look at Ming, then back at his sons with a remorseful look. He walks to them, tries to touch them, but they both back away. Joseon's brown eyes immediately fill with tears, but he tries to hide it by furrowing his brow.

"Y-you dare disrespect your father like this?", he says sternly. "Who gave you the right to insult your father's decisions?"

"You're no longer our father", Jeguk says, looking at him with an unreadable face, crossing his arms.

Joseon's stern façade breaks, his face contorting to a face of surprise and heartbreak. "Ex-excuse me?"

"You lost the right to be called our father."

Without a word, Jeguk and Imsi walk out of the gardens, feeling everyone's eyes upon him. Tears start to stream down Joseon's face, as he watches the sons he had loved and lost in life turn their backs on him for his choices.

"Those were your sons?", Malacca says disbelieving as he tries to comfort his father figure, while also calming his wife down, who was absolutely fuming and vowing to flip Joseon's sons on the nearest table. "They are more ill-mannered than Ayutthaya, in my opinion."

"That's because you two often fight for my attention", Ryukyu deadpans, "and now he's just asking for that Portugese bastard to remember him."

Meanwhile, the two lovers were also deep in discussion, with Joseon breaking down into sobs while Ming soothes him, rubbing circles on his back. Ming carresses his lover and tries to calm him down.

"I don't understand", Joseon cries into Ming's clothes, "they loved me with all their heart. They adored and idolized me, even when I proved to be weak. How did this-" he motions to he and Ming- "change everything?"

"Love, I think that your sons have been influenced by Qing's mentality", Ming says with a general distaste on his mouth, as he carresses his lover with gentleness and love. "Perhaps they have become close-minded over the years, thinking that love amongst males is forbidden, sinful and atrocious. Kids these days."

"You know, I was looking forward to meet your sons", Malacca blurts in, "you said they were the most wonderful people."

"They are, Malacca", Joseon sighs, "their beliefs are just... slanted."

"'Slanted' as in you and dad?", Ryukyu jokes, and the tense atmosphere in the room turns light as the others let out a few chuckles.

"No one controls the way you love someone", Ming softly says, "they should know that. You should have taught them that back in the days of life."

Joseon doesn't say a word, preferring for his mind to talk to him about the situation at hand, at the prospect he was promptly disowned by his own children. And for what? His unconditional love towards Myeong? He and Myeong had been separated for so long, for so many years, the sea never coming back to crash on the shore, instead, slowly receeding from the golden sand until it dries up, leaving everyone lonely in its wake. He knew that Ming can never come back to him, seeing his corpse in front of him, breaking him and his spirit.

He gently traces a finger around Ming's neck, a thin line made by the rope that had marked the fate of his lover, that had marked the rest of their lives with heartbreak and strife. Ming winces as he looks at Joseon eyeing his wound, reminding him of all his mistakes and sorrows. Ming puts his arms around Joseon, in order to comfort him, and himself.

Their faces were so close together, each feeling each others' breaths on their faces, their eyes telling each other the same thing. Their lips bridge the distance between them, and Joseon tastes the sweet flavor of peach as he explores the inside of his lover, hearing the other sigh and grunt in pleasure, running a hand through Joseon's hair. The man was pleased as he leans more into Ming's warmth, craving for more, more, more. Ming tugs on his hair and Joseon lets out a breathy moan, breaking apart from Ming with hunger in his eyes, grinding his arousal on to Ming's knee. Ming smirks at him, putting a finger on his chin, both their eyes levelled once again. Joseon can see the power, lust and dominance Ming's golden eyes, their smirk turning into a cheshire cat's grin.

"How about we...", Ming tugs at Joseon's hanbok, and he does not protest, already knowing deep inside him he is enjoying this. "... blow off some steam?"

Joseon replies with another kiss on Ming's lips, as he lets himself be carried by his man to another room, leaving the room to Ryukyu and Malacca.

"Since we have the room to ourselves-" Malacca starts but is cut off by lips on his, and he kisses back, already knowing what his wife needs.

Jeguk feels conflicted. After confronting his father, there was a strangled mess of emotions inside of him, a tangled knot refusing to untangle. It was a mess of problems compiled one by one, making him weak in his footsteps, but he carries on, the once bright, beautiful and shining light in the sky burning him through his skin, like he had done a wrong doing and deserved to be burned alive for it. It singes him, clawing through his clothes, skin, hair, bones, until he is nothing but ashes standing in the desert.

When he sees Chosen, however, planting beautiful flowers in their front lawn, the feelings fade, as it is replaced by feelings of fluttering love, like back in the old days of them frolicking in the fields or kissing in the stables whenever no one was there. His beloved sees him and she waves, smiling delightfully, and just like that the memories of his confrontation fades, as he runs to Chosen and hugs her, spinning her around and loving the way she laughs.

Imsi stays silent, no interjection nor bittersweet remark to their flirtations.

After a few more chuckles, Jeguk puts her down, and she looks at Imsi, standing tensely, eyes straight ahead, looking through the couple.

"Imsi, are you okay?", she asks, sounding concerned. Imsi looks at her but doesn't say anything as he walks through the couple like they're ghosts and walks into the house, closing the door with a loud slam, making Chosen flinch and cling on to Jeguk, old memories surging up. He comforts her, soothing her by singing to her lullabies, until she feels better.

"I'm sorry for my brother's attitude, nae salang", Jeguk says as he wipes some of Chosen's tears that spilled from her eyes, "we had a confrontation with our father today."

"Is that why you and Imsi vanished with Joseon all of a sudden?", Chosen asks, burying her face into Jeguk's chest. "Gwaenchanh-a boiji anh-a."

Jeguk sighs, leading his wife inside, his fingers rubbing her palms to make her feel better. He finds Imsi, seated near the tables, head on his hands. "It is because... our father did something horrible, atrocious, sinful."

Chosen gasps, "Mwo?"

Before Jeguk can open his mouth, Imsi intervenes, sounding troubled. "We found our father kissing another man. He did not deserve to be called our father anymore."

Chosen's surprised face is then replaced by furrowed brows and a confused look. "Geuge daya?"

"Well-"

"You disowned your father for loving another man?" Her tone was angry and disbelieving. She lets go of Jeguk, much to her husband's surprise. Imsi looks up from where he was sitting, raising a brow, his mind still brewing up trouble.

"Chosen-", Jeguk tries to respond, but it seems she was not yet done.

"Joseon raised you two! He taught you everything the world has to offer! He loved you both with all his heart, all his soul. Then you say he is not your father anymore for loving another man? That is irrational!"

Imsi stands up, frowning and crossing his arms, staring at her, but she surprisingly remains unfazed in front of the two brothers.

"You don't know him the way we did." Jeguk looks at his brother, who seems to be feeling the same amount of troublesome amount of feelings, trying to destroy his walls with big tidal waves, angry and rumbling and as dark as the sky. It was trying to destroy them both, a rift creating deep inside them and trying to open the gap more.

"If I knew him the way you did I would respect my father's wishes", Chosen shoots back. Imsi keeps his mouth shut, and it was Jeguk's turn to speak up.

"Chosen, don't you understand? Our father had lied to us, kept us in the dark about this atrocity, even tried to defend himself once he is faced with us! He does not deserve to be called our father! To be part of our family!"

Chosen shakes her head, her anger disappating, replaced with a worried look. "I would be angry my own father would hide such a secret from me, but would I cast him away because he is in love with another man? No."

Imsi and Jeguk look at each other, then back at Chosen, who was staring at them.

After a minute of silence, Chosen speaks up.

"Please talk to your father."

"I do not wish to", Imsi replies, and Jeguk himself is surprised by the way Imsi answers her. It was always Jeguk who was stubborn and not complying anyone's orders. Jeguk also wants to deny his wife's suggestion, but something inside him stops. Like there was a yearning in his heart for something more.

So Jeguk makes his choices.

Either he cuts their father out of their afterlives for eternity, or he and his brother accepts him for who he is.

Both sound hard to do.

So he does the latter, taking Imsi's wrist, much to his younger brother's confusion.

"Wait you're certainly not-", Imsi starts, but he sees Jeguk's face, and he sighs. "Y-you feel it too, don't you?"

Jeguk nods, "I feel like we made a mistake."

Imsi takes his brother's hand. "That needs to be right?"

Jeguk nods, embracing him. "That needs to become right."

Imsi was imagining all scenarios running around his head as he and Jeguk walk back towards the palace. His thoughts were screaming at him, trying to control his every movement as he and Jeguk come closer to the place they felt touch their hearts so badly to the point both of them feel each other's guilt so distantly. After his confrontation with his father, he can't help but feel his inside tear apart, as if it wasn't meant for him to disrespect his father like that.

He remembered his father tucking him in bed at night after their mother died, singing the same bedtime lullaby their mother once did, and help him be lulled to sleep. He remembered his father letting him read anything in their vast library, and listening to the wonderful stories Imsi had read, acting it out and becoming in sync with his imagination. He remembered his father lecturing and berating him for pulling on his brother's hair too much. And he remembered the corpse of his father, lying in his room, crimson staining the floors, looking as sad as he was in his life.

"Are you alright?", Jeguk asks him.

"Not at all", Imsi replies while shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. "I just have these stupid thoughts of guilt. I am rather conflicted, as of now. Firstly, seeing our father kiss another man is sinful, second, he is being unfaithful to our mother, and third, he's been lying to us, telling us that that man was his friend every time he mourns him. He was not, he was so much more than that."

"I too am not", Jeguk replies sincerely, as they near the palace. "But it is the first time Chosen had spoken her opinions of the matter at hand. She is never this loud before, so I believe we have done something wrong."

Imsi lightly smirks. "Sounds like you're whipped."

Jeguk shakes his head, "I never get those slang words you are speaking of."

Both of them enter the gates of the front palace with small serene smiles, their silence comfortable. They look at the big, wooden door, made of mahogany and rich textures of wood. It was intimidating, especially the dragon head holding the knob, daring them to hold it and summon forth the great dynasties from beyond. Imsi has the audacity to do reckless things more than his brother, though. So he is the one who holds the brass handle, knocking it against the door. He and Jeguk wait for someone to open the door, or tell them they have permission for opening it.

The door opens, a small creak echoing into the room beyond, and Jeguk and Imsi take a step back, to find an unfamiliar man on the door. He looks at them with a raised brow, intimidating and sharp eyes staring back at them.

"May I help you?", he asks curtly, and Imsi tries hard not to scowl, as he lets Jeguk do the talking.

"We are looking for, erm, Chaoxian?", Jeguk says, stumbling on his words. He looks up at the fallen dynasty in front of him. "Was that the right name for 'Joseon'?"

"Ah, you're the two who dare trespass in our palace with no invitation", the man says. "I do not think my son will let you come in again."

"Why don't you actually install gates to avoid trespassers", Imsi says under his breath, before looking up at the man - apparently Ming's father - and replying with, "we're here to talk to our father."

The man pretends to consider their request, but shakes his head no. "I am sorry but my son's lover does not need visitors right now."

Imsi can feel frustration seeping into his veins, his hands clenching to fists. He looks at Jeguk, who seems to be glaring at the man.

"Look, Yuan - or whatever your name is - we just want to talk to our father, to apologize to him", Jeguk calmly says, but there is a hint of indignance in his voice.

The man's eyes widen as his serious face morphs into one of irritation. "Yuan? You two think I'm Yuan? The person who murdered me and most of my family? The person who made my dear son's life a hellbent adventure? Perhaps I have not introduced myself properly-" he switches to a calmer voice- "my name is Song, last dynasty, along with Jurchen, before that Mongol usurper came along. I think you all know who my son is; Ming."

"What is going on here, father?", a familiar voice asks as Song's son joins him on the doorway, looking down at the two brothers. He looks at them emotionlessly and sighs. "Have you come to torment your father once again?"

Imsi shakes his head, "No sir, we come here to talk to him personally."

Ming tilts his head. "Are you sure you're not going to call him names and explode on him like last time?"

Jeguk nods. "We promise."

Ming nods, widening the doorway. "Well then, it seems you are invited to enter the palace."

Jeguk and Imsi step inside, admiring every single detail on the walls, floors, and ceiling, never really noticing or minding them before due to how they want to explode on their father. The walls were hypnotizing them, commanding the brothers to come closer and embrace its beautiful patterns. The ceiling was giving them all the light they need, laughing at them as they stare up. Ming beckons them to follow, and they do, passing the great wide and lengthy hallway, to the throne room, its size incomparable to anything they've seen in the real life. The thrones were not empty anymore; seated were the great Chinese dynasties, from the mythical Xia and the last dynasty Qing, who was left out, along with a man who looked a lot like him. Yuan, Imsi guesses. They were all with their families, singing, laughing, eating happily like they never had in their first lives. Everyone's eyes turn to look at the two brothers and Ming escorting them.

"Wait, aren't they not the two who insulted their father?", asks the one before Song, who has now occupied his seat.

"For loving another man?", the person seated on the first throne snorts as he fills himself a glass of wine.

"They disrespected their father because of his preferences?", Yuan speaks up but everyone - except Qing - gives him a warning glare, and he seals his lips shut.

("Your father outlawed homosexuality during his reign." One says.)

"Back in our days, we didn't have a care in the world if we love men or women", says the only woman seated on the throne, Great Jin. "We only have one objective in life and it is to marry."

"We already know why these two boys are close-minded of preferences", Ming stares directly at Qing, who holds it for a few seconds before looking away to pretend being enchanted by the walls. Ming looks back at Jeguk and Imsi with a smile, looking old yet... parental. "Come, your dear father is this way."

Jeguk and Imsi follow Ming out of the noisy throne room, an awkward silence consuming them. Imsi looks at Ming, looking far ahead at the large empty hallways full of vases or trinkets or tapestries, each of them having a slight history in them. Imsi then glances at a tapestry of Ming, stepping on a body which seems to be Yuan. Ming had over thrown Yuan, Imsi guesses. Imsi's curiosity starts to spill over the walls he had built around to control himself, and since the hallways were quite large and silent, he decides to ask the first question running around his mind.

"Sir Ming, how did you and my father meet?", Imsi asks.

Ming turns his head to look at him, a slight surprise tinted on his dark eyes and smiles kindly, his cheeks showing the slightest red. "Well, I met your father back when I was a young child; I have been living in the streets ever since Yuan has dethroned my father. I was travelling from region to region to ask citizens to join my cause against the Yuan, but either they were too scared of the immense power the foreigner had or they do not believe a strange, thin child as the true heir of the late Song. So I travelled with only the little food I have to the Korean peninsula, and I found a notable candidate to help me rebel against the foreigners."

A small sigh escapes Ming's lips, incredibly love struck. Imsi wonders if the way a man loves the same gender as he has the same affection as loving another woman. He wonders if all love was the same, if they should be held in a general view. They walk into the beautiful gardens, and the two brothers admire their surroundings, a paradise of the lost, a combination of all beautiful and ugly things. The pond was full of clear water, lily pads on it as the fountains let out bright, sparkly, water.

"Your father was royalty, crown prince of the kingdom his father, Goguryeo, had managed", Ming continues as they pass the butterfly-filled flower bushes, with Jeguk caressing a beautifully patterned butterfly, reminding him of Chosen. "He usually walks to commoner streets in the morning, unguarded."

"Father never even set foot in commoner villages without dozens of guards at his side", Jeguk whispers into Imsi's ear, and Imsi nods.

"I met him once his figure sweeps close to my hiding place", Ming says. "I know that this boy was my ticket to Yuan's palace, and so I surprised him by jumping on his way. Let's just say that Chaoxian had stumbled backwards and commanded me to never set foot near the marketplace. I shot back by saying I was Song's son and therefore heir to the dragon throne, but he replied that I am a madman. With that, he runs back to his palace, perhaps to whine of his misfortune during the day."

"But you and father met again and again, and spent more time", Jeguk assumes as he lets the butterfly fly back to the flowers, as they near the tall peach trees.

"Indeed, my boy", Ming nods as he stands on his tiptoes and reaches to the lowest tree branch, taking three bountiful and healthy peaches and giving two of it to Jeguk and Imsi, who bow to him and silently thank Ming. "He slowly believed I am the rightful heir to the throne, and so he lets me in the palace one day and asks his servants to feed me and give me a warm bath. His parents were quite suspicious of me, thinking I am a con who wants the family fortune, but Chaoxian assures them there is no need to worry. He too, despises Yuan and wishes to expel him. He hires dozens of master fighters, but one of them I had the pleasure to replace as my father in a worth while: Red Turban. He had two sons, Xia and Zhou who are incredibly jealous of my swordsmanship as I train more and more. As I grew healthier and smarter, I started to want something else more than familial fondness and friendly hugs. I desired more, craved more, wanted more than what I have.

"Chaoxian has started eyeing me as well. It seemed that he had been observing my physique and health, and his friendly eyes and smiles turn to one of want and desire as he surveys my body every time we train. It made him distracted from his work. It made me distracted from my goal. One night, Chaoxian had the absolute courage to monitor me and my swordsmanship; the conversation escalated from a friendly one to dozens of flirtatious comments and innuendos to the point we both gave in to our desire." Ming looks at both Jeguk and Imsi, clearly listening with the eyes of intrigued children.

Ming and the brothers reach the end of the garden, into another huge hallway, but this time they had rooms with plaques on their doors. Imsi muses that they must all be large to accomodate many peoples; he passes a sign that reads 'Manchukuo, Fengtian, and Yihetuan', and he guesses that those three brothers share the same room.

"When I died, I left my dear Chaoxian all alone, mourning my death", Ming says. "I felt guilty, too guilty, but I know he will move on from my death and deem me a past love, and have children with his brand new queen." He stares at Jeguk and Imsi with a face of genuine sadness.

"He didn't, though", Jeguk says, "ever since he were alive he would absently stare into nothingness, weep at a single mention of you, hold a day in your honor, and hoard his room with artifacts back when he was young and happy."

"But did your father love you with all his heart?", Ming asks as they stop near a door with the pinyin reading, 'Chaoxian'.

"Yes", Imsi replies, realization striking deep within him as his heart bleeds to see his father and hug him once again. "His love for us was beyond his queens."

Ming smiles. "Then you have replaced me as the love of his life after my death."

Jeguk and Imsi stare at each other, realization striking in as their memories with their father surfaced in their mind, the eyes their father had displayed towards Ming had the same level of affection as he looks back at his twin sons, enjoying the happy lives they had once lead.

"I will ask my love if he wishes to talk to you both at this time", Ming says as he knocks on the door and slips in, looking back at them with his dark eyes glinted with delight. Ming closes the door, face to face with his large bed, with a body lying on it, sleeping soundly. He shakes his head as he fondly smiles, approaching Chaoxian and gently shaking him awake. The man in question stirs from his sleep, moving his blankets and turning to face him, tired eyes and an annoyed look.

"What is it Ming?", Joseon asks rudely, "we had just pleasured ourselves a while ago and I wish to sleep."

"But that means you cannot talk to your sons." Ming plays innocent. Joseon's eyes stop being tired at once as a look of surprise come across his face.

"M-my sons? They are here?" Joseon immediately shoots up, ignoring the pain on his back as he tries to look for his clothes. "You only notified me of my son's arrival now?"

Ming shrugs, "They came shortly after I made sure you were sound asleep."

Joseon groans as he finds his clothes and dresses himself up, making sure his hair looks kept and his appearance presentable. "I'm still sore and stressed."

Ming chuckles. "Don't fret, my love. You'll rest sooner or later." Joseon makes a motion for him to open the door and let his sons in, and so Ming obeys, as in comes Joseon and Imsi, slowly and carefully. "I'll leave you all to talk." With that, Ming closes the door with him on the other side.

Joseon looks at his sons, eyes darting from a sheepish Jeguk to an awkward Imsi. The three of them were all waiting for the other party to speak up, to tell what's on their minds. Joseon lightly sighs as he nears his sons; both make a slight hesitation if they should stay in their place but neither took a step backwards as Joseon's arms wrap around then in an embrace. Imsi and Jeguk hug back, missing their father even if it had just been an hour or two. Joseon leans back, looking at his sons with a smile.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, we both are sorry", Jeguk interrupts their father. "We're sorry for treating you as if you are second class, as a sinful monster, and disrespecting you."

"We're sorry that we have never been considerate of your feelings", Imsi says, tears filling his eyes. "I never thought you'd-"

"And I apologize for neglecting my duties as a father", Joseon says, "I love you more than what the world has offered me."

"We love you as well, father", Jeguk replies with a sad smile. "We almost gave you up for your preferences."

"You are both forgiven." Joseon kisses them lightly on the top of their foreheads, and they both feel wamth surge inside them, a piece in their hearts finally attaching itself together again.

"It seems that we haven't met properly yet", Jeguk says, bowing to the woman his father had deemed as a daughter of his. "I am Daehan Jeguk, former heir to my father Joseon's throne."

The woman rolls her eyes, curtsying. "I've known you since both you and your brother were babes, yet you only regard me as an ally and not a friend. No matter; I am Ryukyu."

Malacca eyes Jeguk and Ryukyu talking, furrowing his brows. He feels someone touch his arm, and he turns his head to find Jeguk's twin brother.

"You do know that Jeguk is married, right?", Imsi points out like the clever little weasel he is.

"Yes", Malacca replies with a frown. "But I still don't like how close he is to my wife."

"Sultanate, I don't know about you but my brother would never cheat on his wife that has suffered too much." Imsi's last statement was vague as he asks for another glass of wine from a servant.

"Why? What happened to his wife?"

"Teikoku."

Malacca blinks and widens his eyes in realization. "Oh."

Imsi takes a sip of his wine as he bumps into another man, who did not take kindly to this assault. The man turns and faces him, face stone-cold and eyes glaring towards Imsi, who was muttering out apologies.

"You should be sorry", the man tells him through a low, cold voice.

"Ayutthaya!", a jovial and elderly voice sounds through the croud, and it breaks the intimidating air Ayutthaya had created, making Imsi exhale a breath of relief and thank Myeong. Myeong approaches them, silk robes and all, as he smiles pleasantly towards Imsi and frowns at Ayutthaya. "Now now, what have I told you about scaring new family members?"

Imsi blinks, clearly surprised at what Myeong had said. Family. He and Jeguk are now part of Myeong's - clearly - large family? He looks around to find most of Myeong's tributaries chatting amongst themselves or tasting the sweet treats the servants had cooked for them, and he realizes he can finally have more than one brother; he can have all.

"Wait, me and Jeguk are part of your family now?", Imsi asks, mouth agape.

Ayutthaya scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Of course, you idiot. Haven't you heard that your father has married Ming?"

Imsi blinks. "Married?"

Myeong looks sheepish. "Oh, we're really sorry we didn't-"

"No, it's fine", Imsi cuts in and gives Myeong a hug. "I think I feel found."

Ming smiles as he embraces the young boy back, savoring his warmth. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ayutthaya give the two a slight smile before it turns to a frown once he notices Jeguk and the others approaching them. The man groans as Ming and Imsi part.

Joseon pats Ayutthaya on the head as he embraces Ming and gives him a shy kiss on the cheek, making the room errupt in a cheer, save for Jeguk who modestly claps and Imsi who smiles at them. Ayutthaya was cheering along as well, crossing his arms.

"Hey Jeguk", Imsi whispers to his older brother, who was busily pouring himself a drink.

"Yes?"

"Do you feel the slightest bit weirded out when father kissed Myeong?"

A pause from Jeguk, hesitation. "A little bit, yes." He turns and he and Imsi watch Ming and Joseon kiss and hug each other tightly, like they were meant to be, like they were soulmates.

"But if father is happy, I am happy too."

#mine #writing #countryhumans #countryhumans kpg #countryhumans korean empire #countryhumans chosen #countryhumans joseon #countryhumans ming #countryhumans ryukyu kingdom #countryhumans malacca sultanate #countryhumans ayutthaya

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mrneighbourlove · 5 years ago

Text

Burnt Heart: Ch 7. Burning Bridges, Repairing Bridges

“It's a fine day

People open windows

They leave their houses just for a short while

They walk by the grass

And they look at the grass

They look at the sky

It's going to be a fine night tonight

It's going to be a fine day tomorrow.”

The Emperor sang in a soothing tone. Most would describe it as elegant. In her heart, she felt a sadness to it, however, her smile didn’t falter as she gardened with her sweet Eleonora. The flowers were in a lush bloom, cherry blossoms and natural white and red roses coming to life. Every moment she was able to spend with her and Annuciata was a special occasion. You couldn’t waste the time of others.

Eleonora was much like her mother in many ways. She appreciated finery, she loved to dance, and she had a weakness for anything fluffy and cute. The princess thought her mother's mechanical creations were wonderful, but Eleonora preferred to study chemistry. She loved experimenting in the laboratory and more than once, had burned off her eyebrows. The princess was determined to create an alternate source of fuel besides coal or gas. It would be cheaper but more effective. Yet, in her spare time, when her mother would take her to the Kikai Empire, it was lovely to be outside and experiencing the culture of the Hasai.

However, Elenora was just as she was in the garden as in the lab.

Messy.

Covered in dirt from head to foot, the princess was still digging deeper.

"I just know there is a bigger root I could take a tissue sample from down here..." Eleonora said, half of her upper body in the ground. "Are you sure there's not a Zemlja anywhere near here? This would be over in a pinch if I had one of them helping me. Since my elder brother and sister are too scared to get dirt under their nails." She emphasized the last part, attempting to use reverse psychology to obtain what she wanted. She was sneaky that way. "Or was it worms they are afraid of?"

"Dear, you're going to ruin your new dress." Annuciata sighed, knowing how persistent her daughter could be. "You can get a servant to do that."

"But the root has to be perfect!"

“I believe Athena is afraid of sharks, and Griffith of spiders, scorpions and the common house fly.” Zannah smiled fondly, clipping thorns from a rose bush.

The royal twins were adults themselves now, with obligations and responsibilities in the Empire. Neither had found a potential lover, despite being in their early thirties now. Whenever their sister from another mother came to visit, they were quick to follow. At the current moment, the twins sat on lounging chairs, frowning at Zannah outing them.

“It’s just that they have huge teeth and the blackest eyes.”

“Little sister, you never know what you can find underground in the dirt.”

Zannah looked down in the hole, patting Eleonora’s head. “Just behind your foot. Try there my deer.”

"Pfft, sharks have teeth and creepy crawlers creep, you should be afraid of something more lethal like the hemorrhagic fever. Not going to find anything but worms and bugs in dirt. Maybe an ancient skeleton if I'm lucky." Eleonora snickered and then tried the area her Godmother suggested. She dug around the area of the exposed root, and examined the thickness. "Hm... this might do. These plants produce a lot of oils I could possibly utilize."

"Darling, you're seventeen, you don't have to worry about creating an efficient biofuel right now, save that until you're old and gray." Annuciata assured her daughter. "You'll have time later. For now, spend some time with Athena and Griffith. I'm sure they'd love to play a game of hide and seek with you."

"You mean hide and 'cheat' they always sniff me out." Eleonora pouted with her arms crossed, looking just like her mother when she did so. "It's not fair."

“Oh, come now. It’s just that we’ve had more practice.” Griffith sat up, putting his magazine on new Danjur trends down.

“How about we share a nice cold beverage once we’re done together. After that, we can go down to the ocean and look at the coral together. That’s alright with you, right mother?”

When Zannah looked to Athena and saw the light bounce off her face, she faltered, if only for a moment, before she composed another smile. “As long as you three remain safe.”

"What about the shaaarks? Someone might be scared." Eleonora teased her sister with a wide grin.

"El, be nice to your sister."

"What? She teases me all the time for being a nerd."

"Nerds will rule the world one day, dear, go have fun."

"All right, all right, I guess I just got one last thing to say..." The princess took a sip of lemonade and then declared, "The last one there is a rotten petri-culture!" Eleonora darted away toward the ocean.

"... where does she get all that energy?" Annuciata watched as Athena and Griffith bounded off after their sister. "I wonder if she got into my coffee stash when I wasn't looking."

“Perhaps she did.” Zannah rose from the ground, watching the three bound away chasing and playfully calling each other names. Taking off her sunflower hat, Zannah looked up at the sun, deep breaths in and out.

"It is nice to be able to do this." Annuciata rose from her chair under the umbrella and joined Zannah on the grass, gracefully sweeping her skirts to the side. "Though I do think there is something we must discuss, my love. Sooner rather than later, despite the bitterness it brings."

“Yes.” Zannah spoke the word in a tone that made peace with what conversation was to come, that it would be foolish to run from it. Didn’t mean she liked it though.

"I'm getting older, love." Annuciata told Zannah, kissing her hand. "My golden locks are turning white and my skin is wrinkling. I'm 47 this year. Soon, Eleonora will be of age to take the throne in Danjur. Hopefully, she will find someone who has made me as happy as you have... but I must not forget the reality of the situation." She took a small breath, and said. "I will die before you."

Zannah turned to her lover, not a wrinkle on her face, nor an imperfection in her black hair. The only change in her emerald skin was a sad frown etched into her features. Her golden eyes were heavy and wet. Age it seemed, was no friend of hers. “You will die. Then my children will die. Then Eleonora will die. Except me.”

"Are you truly going to live forever?" Annuciata asked Zannah. "Or will you one day join me in death?"

“Are you asking if I would commit suicide for you my love?” Zannah faked a smile, trying to reassure herself. “I truly don’t know if I’ll ever age again. When I was told the possibility of becoming a warrior that time could not kill or poison me beyond my prime, I relished the idea. I was still but a child. I thought I could use that kind of life to make sure my Empire was rebuilt to its proper glory. But... when I look at my own daughter, when I see my image like I would a mirror, I know a life being a god made flesh all alone is too high a punishment. I wish you could join me, that I’d hold you forever and have a partner through the most difficult of hardships time would throw at me. Otherwise... well, I don’t think we know many who would willingly try to kill me in open combat. Perhaps your parting gift in this life would to have me poisoned so that I might join you.” Zannah laughed darkly, the idea heartbreaking, but a possibility.

"Stop being silly, you know I would never ask a thing nor carry out such a horrid plan." Annuciata slapped Zannah with her fan on the arm. "What I meant was, would you be stuck here forever or would you join me in the world of spirits? It would be awfully lonely without you there... and I would love for you to meet my parents." She told the Empress. "My father and mother were total opposites. She was a fierce navy captain; he was a mega-dork. But they were so happy together. I can still remember my mother being so strong to defeat her opponents at sparring, but gentle enough to braid my hair." The Queen of Danjur smiled softly. "And my father always listened to my ideas. He helped me build the first Land Rider prototype, you know. It fell apart, but we tried again and again until we got it right. They have each other in the spirit world... I'd like to have you one day."

“I think I’d end up in whoever was correct in what version of a hell exists.” Zannah looked to the heavens, reaching a hand out. “I’ve done... so many things wrong. Killed people, betrayed friendships, be charged with war crimes. And although I’m filled with regret now for the lives I’ve taken and betrayed, there’s no salvation or retribution for me. I can feel my brothers taunting me, waiting for me in the afterlife.” Zannah continued on, not giving a chance for Annuciata to immediately rebuttal. “I love my people. I love my family of five with you, Eleonora, Tod, and the twins. I used power for the betterment of this Empire, to give peace of mind to the Hasai people. Every act of sacrifice I made on my soul, I did for all of them. But with you all gone... what will I become? What will I do if left with my power? This burning fire deep within. I wish there was a way to keep you here with me, but you are an angel who will eventually need to return to heaven. I’m afraid of living, but I’m also afraid of death and what lies beyond for me.”

"... everyone has done something wrong in this lifetime, Zannah. There are others out there who have made worse mistakes." Annuciata reminded her lover. "Though sometimes, there are a few that can be redeemed. Surely you know this too. Perhaps your love for your family, for me, for Eleonora... perhaps that can help you see that sometimes all you need is someone to believe in you."

“But that won’t stop you from eventually leaving me. I’ll never grow old with you. I’ll never---"

“My emperor.” A servant suddenly interrupted them, respectfully bowing. “T0-D has returned. But he’s brought along Sir Kahli instead of the runaway. He wishes to speak to you.”

Zannah looked at the servant with blank eyes that traveled through him. It seemed that one of her sins finally caught up to her. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Tell him to wait for me in the throne room.”

"Do you need me to accompany you, love?" Annuciata asked Zannah. "I'd be happy to help in any way I can."

“I should have a witness to keep me from doing any public violence I suppose.” Zannah rose from her garden floor, choosing to get changed into more formal wear for the occasion.

When she entered the throne room, Kahli wasn’t bowing. His eyes trembled with fury looking at her. In return, she gazed at him with shallow indifference. “Kahli. I don’t recall calling for you. Though it has been a while since we spoke face to face.”

“You haven’t aged a day... it’s over Zannah. Zizi knows about Grievous. She knows how you used me to revive the Waku. She knows how you used my life debt to further the growth of the Empire. It nearly tore us apart. Perhaps the damage has been done and the final crack is yet to come. Regardless, I demand you release me from the rest of my debt.”

“Demand? From your Emperor?”

Annuciata followed Zannah, making sure to smooth her skirts. Though as soon as the Queen of Danjur saw Kahli and the look on his face, she sensed something was amiss. Kahli avoided the Kikai Empire like the plague unless Zannah called him. It was all due to the debt... and she had an inkling that the secret was no longer just that; a secret.

“I tire of our relationship Zannah. I have a family to look after. Have I not given you enough?”

“A debt is a debt Kahli.” Zannah tilted her head at him, curious on what she should do with him. “You still have hundreds of flowers to help bloom into this world Kahli. The red garden of the Waku needs to be filled.”

"Dear," Annuciata placed her hand on top of Zannah's. She thought of the situation unraveling quickly. If Kahli's family knew, then Zizi knew. If news of this incident reached the royals, it could have a damaging effect on the trust between the kingdoms. While there would never be war, there would be much more strife... strife that had just been mended a short time ago. "Perhaps Kahli is right."

“And I just what, let him walk away free?” Zannah studied Kahli, wondering just what to do to him. A warrior of his caliber free from her machinations. He provided life to her... but perhaps his blood could be more of use. “Hmmm. I suppose. Zarazu would be angry, but she wouldn’t dare leave negotiations from this little saga. However, if we push the issue further after the truth has been discovered, I couldn’t be so sure what would follow. Kahli, do you truly want to be free of this debt to me? Free of the reach of the Empire?”

“I do.”

“I can think of only one substitute. You too, hold the blood line of the Dragon. You hold the fire of Exodrum. Give me that power.”

Kahli blinked, taking a few steps back. “What?”

“Give me the power you once acquired for the sake of your wife. Give it to me for her continued support. With it, I will provide for the Empire continuing from where you will now walk away.”

"Love, are you sure that is a good idea?" Annuciata appeared to be concerned. Such a power had already made Zannah unable to age. While she was still very much mortal in some ways, the Queen of Danjur had heard stories since she was little of too much power corrupting others. Power was a drug that could cause madness. That was the last thing she wanted for her lover.

“I will take the flame to the volcano to Fel. There, he will watch over its power until I know what to do with it.” She looked at Kahli, who seemed apprehensive about it. “I’m not going to use it to burn the world. Your tension is unwarranted.”

"Perhaps a sealed agreement would ease you further, Kahli? Ensure both parties kept their word?" Annuciata suggested to the Waku and to Zannah. "Bound by magic?"

“Another life debt? Another bond?” Kahli was unsure.

“What’s to be scared of Kahli. I promise to not use your flame to burn away the world. And if you agree, you and your family will never have to worry about political ties to the Empire so long as you wish for.”

"... Kahli, do you truly want to wish to be free?"

His family needed him. He knew Zannah always had a long game in mind, and he’d lose a great amount of power, but this is what he wanted. “I do.”

Zannah walked towards Kahli, extending a hand to his chest. “Kahli. Exodrum as my witness, you willingly release the flame of destruction within you. Your blood of the dragon, is gone.”

Lightning struck through Kahli’s body, illuminating his skeleton. Screaming upwards, fire roared from his mouth from the agony he felt. Zannah was taken aback by the reaction, feeling her wrists blaze with pain herself suddenly. Slowly stepping away from Kahli, a great flame flickered in her palm, whistling loudly and drawing every lit lantern in the room into it. The Waku fell backwards, his chest sizzling with agony. From the flame, two eyes looked down at Zannah, silent in its judgement of Kahli and herself. What’s more, it’s gaze spoke silently to the Emperor. Zannah took two steps back, struggling to keep the flame in control.

“It’s so warm. So powerful. The flame of a god. Yes. Oh yes. I can see so many possibilities from it. Annuciata. I could use this to make you immortal. Our children immortal. I could use it to annihilate those who bring darkness upon the world. If I don’t do something with this fire, it might kill everyone here. I want- it wants me to absorb it.”

Kahli's throat was completely parched, unable to speak. His eyes were dry, constantly blinking to see once more. Despite this pain, he heard the whisper of the fire that only the Hasai could hear.

“You disregard my power? Pathetic you welp. Perhaps the Waku aren't the champions I needed. Perhaps this Ocho is what I need for my chosen champion, as she always has been. My Dorami. No Hasai has taken two sacred flames though. Let us see if she burns.”

"Love," Annuciata was spooked by all this talk of magic and most definitely power. While the Queen of Danjur adored her lover, she also knew how seductive power could be to the Empress. She had to make sure nothing else would risk corrupting her. "You already have what you need. Give back this ability to heavens... please."

Zannah heard a voice warmer than the fire. No, it wasn’t quite that simple. The voice was softer, while the fire burned in her palm. Turning to Annuciata, Zannah made the choice when she saw the look in her eye. “I choose... I choose to release the flame of Exodrum.”

The eyes in the fire flared, and a voice echoed in her mind. “Interesting. You might not want additional power, but I will not take back my flame. This fire shall be housed in another.”

The flame howled loudly, exploding outwards, flying out a window in a torrent, disappearing from the palace. Zannah screamed, her right hand receiving three-degree burns. All of the light was taken from the room for a few moments, before the natural light of the sun illuminated everyone to normal levels.

The sudden burst of energy from the flames sent Annuciata topping backwards, skirts flying over her head. Once the air had settled, she huffed, pushing lace and petticoats from her face, downward to cover her legs. Her styled hair was an absolute mess, and she was not happy about it. Yet, the sulking would have to wait. She quickly got to her feet, noticing one heel was missing. Sighing in frustration, she kicked off the other and hurried down the few steps to her lover.

"Zannah?! Zannah, I heard you scream!"

“God- FUCK!” The Emperor keeled over in agony, her burns crushing her will to immediately stand.

Kahli had never seen Zannah in such pain before, and would never imagine seeing her on his knees. Perhaps his wife was channeling her spirit in him, because an audible smirk left his being.

Zannah looked at Kahli looking down at her, laughing at her. With her rage, she used her good arm, launching a lightning bolt at him. The electricity sent him skidding across the floor after hitting him in chest. “Don’t. You. Mock me.”

Kahli twitched from her electricity. His body felt far more brittle now.

As he stood, the Emperor was already on her feet, clutching her injured hand.

“The debt has been settled. Leave my palace.”

"EEEEEK!" Annuciata crouched down and covered her head when Zannah released a sudden burst of lightning. "Fuck a steam engine, was that really necessary?!" She could feel the static electricity in the air. Thankfully she was not wearing any jewelry which would conduct electricity. Rushing over to Zannah, Annuciata took off her giant cord of silk from her corset. It was the only material soft enough not to injure the hand further. Carefully, she started to wrap her lover's hand. "Hold still, I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but we have to keep it covered to prevent infection---hold still."

“It was. God. My hand. My fucking hand.” Zannah leaned against Annuciata as Kahli limped out of the Empire.

"Shh, shh, now, we'll get a healer in here and fix your hand." Annuciata was a tiny thing compared to Zannah, but she still had strong legs. All those ballet lessons were certainly paying off now. She supported her lover's weight, and tried to keep her mind occupied. "After all, it is imperative that it is healed, how else will you give me one of those wondrous massages?"

“Yes. I will recover. This pain is nothing.” With the odd moan of pain, Zannah continued onwards to retreat and lick her wounds.

Kahli flew back on a Wyvern provided by the Empire. Would be the last ride he’d take from them if he could help it. It would be about dinner now in Hyrule, the sun painting the sky in orange and purples. At his home, Kahli could only make it to the lounge chair on the deck before needing to collapse from exhaustion. No food all day and injuries would break down even the strongest men.

The whole family was outside near the fire pit. Keira, ever being the bubbly one, suggested that it was high time to teach Grivy how to make delicious s'mores. However, Urboro walked back inside to get another pitcher of juice for her younger siblings when she noticed the front door was open... just a bit. Curious, she went to close it when she noticed her father through the window and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"SWEET FUCK---Dad! What the hell?! Why didn't you call for someone?!" She yanked open the door, and went to him. "What happened?!"

“Hey sweetie. Watch your language.” Kahli had zero energy to scold her on her swearing. “It’s done. It’s over.”

"This situation calls for swearing, you look like shit." Urboro then yelled.

"Manaco! Ahusaka! Someone get their ass out here, Dad's back!"

Both the eldest sons came crashing through the house to the front porch.

"Dad! What happened?!"

"Mom's been worried sick!!!"

“Where is Zizi? Is she safe? Is she alright?” Kahli looked at his sons, trying to stand, but failing.

"WHOA!" Manaco and Ahusaka both reached out at the same time to catch their father. "Worry about Mom in a minute. We'll patch you up before she sees you like this."

"I would call for Aunt Zolori but she's all the way in Uskar." Urboro bit her lip, thinking. "Unless you two could share your fire with him?"

"I could give him some of my energy and Manaco could do the same."

“Do it.” Kahli growled with the intensity of lion as they channeled their energy into his body. Is scaring and burnt flesh started to mend together. “Good. Now let me see your mother.”

"Mom's resting, so we ate outside not to disturb her." Urboro told their father with a small frown. "Mom isn't... she's not well."

"She's not sick, she's just..." Ahusaka struggled to find the correct words. "I don't know what's wrong. We think she's depressed. Or so heartbroken, she's made herself sick."

“Please look after your younger siblings.” Kahli stood up, making his way to his bedroom to see his wife.

"Dad, please just..." Manaco called after his father quietly. "... take it slow? For Mom's sake?"

“I know.” Once his children dispersed, Kahli slowly opened the door. “Zizi. I kept my promise.”

"... how can I be sure you're not a ghost?" Zizi was lying on the bed, on her side, covered with the largest fur in the house for warmth. "Come back to haunt me?"

Kahli crawled into bed with her, carefully spooning her. “A ghost can’t be warm.”

"... are you still angry with me?"

“No. You’ll never have to deal with the Empire again. I will never have to deal with them again.”

"Zannah won't come after you? After us? Our family?" Zizi sounded unsure. Personally, she would not put it past the Emperor to do such a thing. "... and the others..."

“No. And guess what. The process to break off our bond burnt her right hand to crisp. The pain brought her to knees as I stood over her, if only for a moment.”

"... so she can be brought to her knees." Zizi then said. "She should stay there if she knows what is good for her."

“Zizi... I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry for what part I played in this treachery.”

"I know you are." Zizi held his hand tightly. "I know... and you shouldn't have to suffer anymore because of it due to me."

“Zizi. Can you look at me? Please?”

Zizi slowly turned on the bed to face her husband. It was evident she had been crying. Her eyes were all puffy and cheeks were red. She looked so tired and guilt was written on her face.

“You didn’t cause any true pain. It was me.” Kahli ran a hand through her dreadlocks. “I hurt you. And I know I damaged a lot of trust between us. I promise I will do everything to repay it. How do you feel about adopting Grievous?”

"I shouldn't have lashed out at you... I'm sorry I hurt you too." Zizi snuggled closer to her husband, so glad that he was not dead and safe at home. She still felt unsure, but decided that those feelings could be dealt with later. For now, she wanted to be content with what she had and not about the wrongdoings against her. "Trust can be rebuilt, but it will take time. I do not like secrets, Kahli. They always make everything so much more complicated than it needs to be." She sighed, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "No more secrets, Kahli... please."

However, at his question, Zizi did look up at him. "Grivy? ... I thought we already did. In a way."

“With my blessing now.” Kahli didn’t kiss his wife, but he held her. She would be the one the choose if that bridge would be crossed. “I can make something happy out of this mess.”

"If I didn't know any better, you want another child." Zizi raised an eyebrow at her husband. "We have fifteen. Ten girls, five boys. Well... eleven girls if you count Grivy now."

“I just want to give this girl a happy life if she chooses to stay. And... I’m going to stay. Forever. Just give me time Zizi.” His body warmed hers, and he sighed. “Do you want me to go sleep at Manaco’s or on the couch for a start?”

"I think we both need time... but we need each other too." Zizi dismissed the suggestion. "No... just stay here. Keep me warm. I am tired, and have not slept well."

Kahli hugged her tightly. “I love you. I’ll be here to give you peace of mind.”

"I love you too..." Zizi closed her eyes, hoping that the warmth and comfort of her husband would allow pleasant dreams.

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/612496080371957760/burnt-heart-ch-6-trading-one-pain-for-another

Final Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/613696630305243136/burnt-heart-ch-8-what-comes-around

Thank you for reading! Crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse Shared work with @s-kinnaly

#crossover #ridersoftheapocalypse #Kahli #Zizi #Hasai #Zannah #Annuciata #drama #comments appreciated!

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searchin-for-an-urchin · 6 years ago

Text

Like a Rollercoaster (Reprise) Aaron Burr x Reader Chapter 9

T/W: None!

Word Count about 1.6k.

Forever tag: @fangirlandnerd

Tag because they were asking for more: @sheswritings

Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

“Mama, Mama!” Charlotte is singing from the hallway on her way to your bathroom. You are currently getting ready for your date with Aaron. The two of you are going to dinner at an unnamed restaurant (he called Lauren and asked for her recommendation, but didn’t allow your input for the surprise of it all), but he did let you know it was a four-star place so it is a little on the fancier side. He said he had a surprise afterwards, so he suggested wearing comfortable flats. I

Peggy came over to help you fret over what to wear, but it was kind of unnecessary because you landed on wearing the forest green dress you picked up on your bad day. She is also grabbing your brother and coming right back to watch your daughter for the night. Speaking of your little one, Charlotte slides into the bathroom on her slipper socks. In the mirror you see she’s grinning like she has a secret.

“Yes, my little Pokemon?”

“Are you excited?” Your daughter asks playfully while you finish your hair. It’s pinned up halfway; enough out of your face but allowing you the ability to play with it. Giving yourself a smile in the mirror as you unplug your hair iron, you answer truthfully,

“Yeah. I’m ecstatic.”

Her smile grows even wider as you reach out and cup her cheek. She’s very excited for you to go on a date and she proudly told you what she thinks of Aaron, (He’s the best, Mama!”) but you also know your daughter well enough that she’s partly excited for Peggy and John to hang out with her for the evening. It’s the first time in a while that all of you have an evening off, even though it is the middle of the week. John volunteered quickly when you told them you needed a babysitter.

“What?” He asked when you and Peggy shot him an incredulous look. “I was serious about you being happy.”

A few knocks land on the door and you make your way to the front of the apartment. When you open it to reveal your best friend and your twin brother they both gush about how beautiful you look. Beforehand you have to admit you had been feeling queasy but the butterflies settled a bit. Not five minutes later comes another knock, this time from Aaron. John, Peggy, and Charlie are sitting in the living room when you open the door again. Aaron looks pleasantly shocked when his eyes connect to yours and the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen is spread wide on his face, reawakening the tumbling feeling in your stomach.

“I’ll see y’all later!” you say in the direction of your family who let out a chorus of okays as you lock the door and close it behind you. After a beat, you ask,

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

It turns out that Lauren and Peggy were spot on about the restaurant that the two of you were going to. It was about a 15 minute walk which was perfect in your opinion. The two of you talked and bantered back and forth easily. It felt natural. When the two of you were seated at your table by the window, you noticed how relaxed Aaron appeared; no forced smile, bright eyes, and posture that was perfect, but not strained. The table was round and the chairs were placed across from each other. It was cozy enough that if you weren’t careful, you could easily bump into Aaron. Making a mental note, you cross your legs at your ankle and tuck them under your seat.

You glance through the menu, enraptured by the options and the descriptions, trying to decide what you want. Landing on the grilled fish and a loaded baked potato, you took a moment to realize how much has happened that led you to this moment. The girls fighting, becoming friends, the project being finished, the two of you growing apart but still being drawn together. This moment, where you and Aaron are looking at each other with small, soft smiles on your faces, is a moment that you wish will never end.

His gaze holds yours for the rest of dinner. You and Aaron talk about work for a bit, explaining the new menu you and Lauren have been working on at work, and he mentions the antics that Alexander has been up to (“I swear, Y/N, I have never seen Jefferson’s face that color”) and between the laughter that’s escaping the two of you, your knees knock against Aaron’s and rest for a minute before moving them to the side. Both of you act like nothing happen, despite the slight blush that you know if resting on your face. After a few moments, like a freaking rom-com or something, his knees find their way back to yours, and stay there.

That little bubble of comfort remains as your food arrives and the conversation flows easily. You mentally thank Lauren for a good choice as you eat and continue to talk. From talking about the girls new games and stories that they come up with after school to talking about favorite subjects in school, you realize how much you truly care for this guy.

“So I’m at a high school state debate tournament, right?” You nod, indicating that you’re following along with his story. “And we’re debating about the electoral college. I’m negating the system, thank goodness, and we’re in the questioning period. I’m asking him question after question and he seems to not understand what side of the case he’s supposed to be arguing. The judge and I look at each other unsure of what’s happening because my opponent is literally agreeing with everything I’ve said. I have enough time to ask one more question and I ask him ‘Do you agree that the electoral college is inefficient and should be abolished?’ He takes a moment and he says ‘Yes, I do.’”

You gasp, and exclaim “No way! At a state tournament?!” Aaron takes the moment to grab a drink of his wine and he nods as he swallows.

“Yes, way. He begins packing up his binder and evidence even though we still have twenty minutes left in the debate.” Still shocked, he continues, “And that is how I won state my senior year.” Aaron finishes his anecdote with a large grin on his face while you shake your head in disbelief. He takes another drink of his wine as you take your last bite of the fish.

“Man,” you breathe out. “I can’t believe someone would do that in finals.”

“To this day I am still in shock.” His grin turns softer as he puts his wine glass down and makes a move to grab your left hand to hold in his. Aaron’s thumb grazes over your hand and he repeats, “Still in shock.”

When the bill comes Aaron grabs it before you can argue and he replies, after seeing the look on your face,

“You can grab the next one, Y/N.”

“It’s a date,” you reply with a smile that mirrors his.

The two of you begin getting ready to leave after the waiter comes back with the receipts, when you’re asked to sit and wait because the head chef would like to talk to you. Thinking it was strange, but not a dangerous situation, the two of you agree. Before either of you could really speculate about why the chef wanted to talk to you, a man was sauntering up to the table. His walk gave you a weird feeling in your stomach and you couldn’t quite place why you were feeling this way. Although as soon as he greeted you by saying your name, you realized why:

“Nathaniel?!”

“Long time, no see, Y/N! What has it been, ten years?” Nathaniel’s smile was sleazy and made you feel nauseous, a significant change in what you felt about him ten years ago. You couldn’t remember the man who knocked you up for the life of you until he was standing in front of you and ruining a wonderful date. Mentally scolding yourself, you think, of course he had to be a chef. Not that you really did much talking then, but still.

Glancing over to Aaron, you can tell that he’s feeling uneasy because he’s back to fake smiling and you turn back to Nathaniel who is clearly expecting a hug. Not knowing how else to react you feebly stretch your arms out to quickly embrace him and let go of him just as fast. Noticing your uneasiness Nathaniel nods and backs up a bit. After too long of a silence, you realize you’ve left Aaron out of the conversation.

“Nathaniel Meeks, this is Aaron Burr.” Aaron stands up to shake his hand and you’re grateful that he is able to stay composed even when you’re completely thrown for a loop. After the basic pleasantries Nathaniel asks him how you know each other. Aaron loves to talk about his daughter so you’re surprised when he doesn’t go into a full on story, but just simply explains,

“Our daughters got into a fight with each other at school one day.” Nathaniel’s eyes widen and he turns to you and responds,

“You have a daughter, Y/N?” Your mind starts to freeze a bit as you try to speak.

“Yes,” you shakily say after a moment. “I have a daughter. Charlotte. She’s nine and a half.” Nathaniel pauses and thinks for a moment. His gaze holds yours as he begins to ask,

“Is she…?” You take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose. This was not how you wanted this to happen. Up until five minutes ago you didn’t even remember his name, just what he looked like. With a sigh you answer,

“Yeah, she’s yours.”

#Aaron Burr #Aaron Burr x Reader #Hamilton Fanfiction #I swear I write #Slow Burn #What have I done

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nekumiko · 7 years ago

Text

Been here all along, so why can’t you see?

Fandom: Bangtan Sonyeondan (BTS)

Genre: Angst

Rated: T

Words: 2, 746

Series: Guess the Song

Summary: He’s cheer captain, and I am on the bleachers.

They’ve been at it for a while now.

The thing with their quarrels is that no one raises their voice. Discreet glares, softly-delivered accusations, firm grips on waists—no other indication of a fight except for the tension that only the truly sensitive people could feel sizzling.

Taehyung watches her unfreeze as she ends the call, seemingly deliberating if she’d throw her new phone across the room out of frustration.

As if feeling his eyes on her, she turns to look out her window and give him an apologetic smile.

Taehyung immediately retrieves the notebook he has prepared for times like these. He writes a sentence that conveys not even a quarter of the things he wants to say, then holds it up for her to read: You ok?

Her own notebook is already out, so with a playful shake of her head and a now-amused smile, it does not take long for her to write back: Just call me, Tae.

And so he does. “Hey, you.”

The soft atmosphere is gone in an instant as she doesn’t even open with a ‘hello.’ “It was just a joke! I love that he pays close attention to me, but it also makes him overthink everything! He doubles over at every single one of our sunbae’s dad jokes, but with me, he’s just…”

Taehyung pushes up his glasses. “Well, I keep telling you that dark humor does not work on most people.”

She sighs. “Wait until he meets my cousin. He’s coming back from Seoul soon.”

“Hyung is a different case. Jimin’s just worried about his girlfriend proclaiming that she’s okay with dying,” Taehyung replies, mentally congratulating himself for not tripping up. “And he might even blame himself, considering how you two have been lately, right?”

She only falls silent, pulling her knees to her chest.

“But just so you know, I do understand your sentiment.”

At this, she laughs a little. “Stop kissing-ass, Kim Taehyung.”

He chuckles as well, though he makes an excuse of picking up a shirt off the floor to hide his reddening cheeks.

“What are you studying, Tae?”

Deciding to indulge her distraction tactics, he holds up his thick textbook for her to see. “Just doing some advance reading. It’s a Wednesday tomorrow.”

She fake-shudders. “Politics.”

“Yes.”

She smirks. “But you really don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Now you’re doing it.”

“What? Kissing your thick ass?”

“W-what are you—“

“You’re so cute, TaeTae.” She grins at the sight of the blushing boy.

He pouts, making his glasses slide down a bit from the bridge of his nose, and whines out her name. Just then, a violin solo rings through his whole bedroom, making the both of them yelp, and so he dives for his laptop speaker to turn the music down.

“Noooo!”

“Huh?”

“Don’t turn it off. It’s really cool.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen. “You think so?”

“Yep. Jimin listens to pop a lot, and though I don’t exactly hate it, I prefer relaxing music every once in a while.”

A pebble hits her window just then.

She stands up from her bed to check.

And Taehyung knows he’s lost again when she sighs and smiles wryly. “It’s Jimin, huh?”

Keeping her eyes on the visitor, she replies, “Yes.” As she signals to the person to wait, she continues, “I guess he doesn’t want to drag the fight until morning.” Then she runs towards her coat rack to get her cardigan.

“That’s very diligent of him.”

“Yeah, which is good, right?”

“Yeah. Proves he’s serious with you. I just hope you lessen the fights.”

“I hope so too.” She finishes buttoning her cardigan up, so she turns back to her friend. “Hey, Tae.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for talking to me. You really helped clear my mind up and made me feel lighter. I’m just really sorry that I have to hang up so soon.”

“It’s no problem. Go get him.”

With a final “thanks,” she ends the call and exits her room.

Taehyung, meanwhile, looks out his window to find her hurrying out her back door and over to Jimin. Being the constant witness to how the couple makes up, he’s memorized how it always plays out: their postures would be stiff for a while, but as Jimin unleashes his flurry of apologies, her walls would break down and she would fall into Jimin’s fuzzy-sweater-embrace.

Well, sometimes it’s a muscle shirt, if Jimin is fresh from practice.

Taehyung doesn’t wait for her to nuzzle her boyfriend’s neck or for Jimin to kiss the top of her head. He turns away from the window and flops back onto his bed, playing with the hem of his ratty old t-shirt that could barely keep himself warm.

Does she miss his hugs?

Surely not, he thinks.

Taehyung doesn’t see her until the weekend. He’s on his way to the park to take a relaxing stroll after a few errands, when he suddenly feels a nudge on his shoulder.

Again today, she has abandoned their matching glasses for clear contact lenses. Her hair falls to her shoulders in waves, the result of an hour-long fight with the curling iron. Her cropped top that has a huge cat face printed on its front side makes up for her worn-out jeans.

“Aren’t those the pants you bought last ye—“

“Shut up, Kim Taehyung!” She playfully hits his arm. “No one else is supposed to know that!”

The both of them are not that big on money, so mixing-and-matching has always been their thing to make them look still-presentable. And so, Taehyung laughs, comforted by the thought that she hasn’t let it go, that he’s not the only one left in town who wears old clothes for a day out.

“And why is that even the first thing you’ll say to me? Where are you even looking, huh?” Her eyes squint in suspicion.

“Why do you always make me out to be a pervert?” He lightly pushes her.

“Hey!” She dramatically holds on to a tree they are conveniently passing by. “That hurts!”

“Says the woman who dives on the floor multiple times to receive a 280-gram ball.”

“Hmph. You’re lucky I love you so much.”

He only smiles. Her constant company may have changed since the past year, but she never did. They still walk in sync, still talk endlessly, still laugh over the simplest things. This is how it’s all supposed to be.

Now sitting on a park bench, he watches her laugh, he stares at the smile he could so easily put to her lips. The smile that, even if it’s cliché, he’d dare say could make this whole town ten times brighter. Is it so hard for Jimin to bring it back himself?

Jimin could effortlessly do that long ago as her crush, and even more often when they started going out. But ever since their first big fight a month ago, her smile had turned upside-down, if not thinning out into a tight line. The rare times she does smile for and because of Jimin, it couldn’t even last for a minute.

“Are you supposed to be somewhere? You keep checking on your phone.” Taehyung asks her, giving her a look that screams the unfinished thought: You’ve never done this to me before.

Immediately, she puts her phone back in her pocket, but her hand stays there. “Sorry. Jimin is taking me out today, and this park is the pick-up point.”

So much for thinking that she just went out the same day as him by chance and they are on a spontaneous date. “And?” Taehyung prompts, seeing how she just bit her lip, an anxious mannerism of hers. “Is he late? Again?”

“Don’t be like that. He’s trying his best to come on time. Today’s just not his day. But I bet he’s already around the corner. So, let’s just chill.”

Taehyung stares at her for a long moment, but she is equally determined to keep herself turned away from him, so he sighs. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Taehyung.”

He knows better, of course. And while he wants to keep the mood light for the sake of her date, this has gone on for too long. What is she still doing with a guy like that?

But a flashy red car stops nearby just then, the color prompting everyone to look. Very much like its owner now exiting the door.

Park Jimin in his white shirt, skinny jeans, and boots.

Funny how Taehyung’s dressed almost exactly the same, except he has on his old, yet still sturdy basketball shoes. And nerdy glasses, of course. And also without Jimin’s gold jewelry and gray beanie.

Of course Jimin would still look stunning even when dressed down.

The couple smiles at each other and holds hands as a greeting, before Jimin turns to Taehyung, who stood up as well. “Oh! We’re twinning, Tae!”

Taehyung puts a hand behind his neck. “Wow, yeah.” Then maybe I could replace you today. At that thought, he grins, which could be mistaken as him taking the comment well.

Jimin pats Taehyung’s shoulder. “Thanks for accompanying her, man.” He pouts as he looks at them both. “And I’m so sorry for being late, I swear I—“

“Hey, it’s no problem.” Taehyung smiles as reassuringly as he could. “You guys have fun now.”

Jimin smiles and utters another “thank you.” He proceeds to lead his girlfriend by the hand back to his car. He opens her car door for her and waits for her to get settled, then walks over to the driver’s side. With an excited grin on his face, he even waves Taehyung goodbye before he disappears into the vehicle.

Despite being last year’s new kid who moved from Busan to Daegu, Jimin instantly shot to fame because of his innate sweetness and kindness that makes a lot of hearts burst – Taehyung’s bestfriend included. She had endlessly gushed about his versatility – getting high test scores while being one of the best members of the cheerleading squad – and, of course, his “pretty, pretty face and that hot damn body.” A perfect combo. And how there would be a lot of chances for her to get close to him, for the squad sometimes practice in the school gym, where the girls’ volleyball team frequent.

And she was right. Just months later, news had spread throughout the whole school that the top candidate for cheer captain had asked the female libero out. Two individuals brought together by their complementary hobbies, therefore it would be easy and natural for them to support each other. A cute, perfect couple.

Meanwhile, Taehyung is still stuck in the bleachers. He wouldn’t have minded it if it’s her volleyball match, but nope, he had to be dragged along to watch Jimin’s first cheerleading competition as the new captain.

Taehyung could’ve said no. He could’ve told her that he needs to study. But he also could never really resist her pleading eyes. And keeping her physically within his reach has become more difficult as of late, so, under the pretense of getting bribed by her presence in Taehyung’s marching band parade (at this point, his saxophone could pass for his new bestfriend) the next day, he decides to go. Even if the crowd’s too noisy and rowdy for his liking, even if he has to see her so excited and supportive for a person besides him.

And accompanying her had been the right choice.

Jimin is attractive. Too attractive for his own good. He attracts anyone and everyone, most of them not minding that he’s already taken. It had been the reason for the couple’s big feud. Would it be revived now that she and Taehyung reached backstage and saw a female cheerleader sidling up against Jimin? Hooking arms with him? Touching his chin and pinching his cheeks?

“I’m sorry, Taehyung,” she calmly tells her bestfriend, albeit never straying her gaze away from the scene. “I’ll have to meet you back home.”

And Taehyung knows that once she drives home and finds him waiting at her back door, she would bury her head on one of his shoulders and soak it with her tears as she voices out her pain, all the while holding his hands tight to prevent him from hugging her.

“Then why?” he asks her again as the exact same scene happens once more. “Why are you keeping this up?”

“Because I love him,” she answers the exact same reply. “I love him so damn much, Taehyung.” The only difference tonight is that she straightens back up and wipes her eyes right away. “And I know Jimin loves me too. We’re only a new couple. Things would be better once we graduate, because all these immature people who can’t keep their hands to themselves would be gone, right? We can’t just give up at the first sight of a storm.”

True enough, her boyfriend calls. And the sound of car tires could be heard from the distance.

“If you can’t trust Jimin yet, at least just trust me, please?” She smiles.

The problem with Jimin is that Taehyung can never really hate him.

Jimin loves her just as intensely. He is just a naïve, young teen born with exceptional talent and good looks who legit freezes up whenever someone flirts with him, but who has never chosen fame and opportunities over the girl he loves. He makes time for her, treats every one of her friends as his own, and most of all, rushes over to fix things with her, no matter how often he’d had to do that lately.

A perfect couple isn’t measured by stereotypes or fairytale concepts. She and Jimin are a perfect couple, because young as they are, they take each other seriously – they continue to get to know and understand each other, they learn to forgive and adapt, they dream of a future together.

“Okay,” Taehyung replies, hands twitching from being forbidden to touch her like he used to.

Taehyung had tried. He had tried hard, before and after Jimin came along. He knows he could do everything Jimin could do for her, surely even more. He is ready to fight. But what’s the point of waging war if it’s been a losing battle from the start?

Kim Taehyung used to live two blocks away, in the busier side of town, where no one would be suspicious about a car pulling up near his house in the middle of the night. She would call him, and he would help her sneak up to his room. Taehyung is a friend who would tell her that she’s not as terrible as she thinks she is. Someone who makes her cry only because he made her laugh too hard. Someone who could quiet her self-deprecating thoughts down with the songs she never named as her favorite, but Taehyung had knowingly downloaded in his phone.

Back then, he had been free to hug her as tight as he could. He could hold her close as she talked about her plans of traveling around the world, of her schemes to be internet-famous, of future recipes she wants to try.

And whenever she would finish talking, she’d look up to regard his reaction, and the close distance between their faces wouldn’t be forbidden.

Taehyung should’ve kissed her. Taehyung should’ve told her that she could fulfill all those dreams together with him, because despite their differences in attitude, in social standing, and in interests, they meet halfway, and he could keep doing so because he genuinely likes to. Taehyung should’ve said that they just plainly fit. Taehyung should’ve put his thoughts into words: I think you belong with me.

But he didn’t.

Because for all those times he had stared deep into her eyes, he found that hers never held affection of the same kind as his own.

She belongs with him, in a way the best of friends are brought together. If it weren’t for Taehyung, she would’ve given up on life long ago. If it weren’t for her, life would be dull for Taehyung. Platonic soulmates, that’s what they are. That’s what they could only be.

So with a sad smile, Taehyung walks past her, and she turns towards the street. The back door of his house closes moments before Jimin’s car arrives. Taehyung has always been attuned to the couple’s hushed conversations, but tonight, he just can’t hear anything else over his sobs.

Hint: A Taylor Swift song from the Fearless album.

#taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bangtan fanfic #high school au #nerd kim taehyung #cheerleader park jimin #possibly unrequited love #mentions of self-deprecation #two other members are mentioned if you squint #guess the song #nekumiko's guess the song #nekumiko

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exolstice-blog · 7 years ago

Text

With You | Jongin

Genre: Angst? ; steamy?Fluff

Description: As her, you expected something different. Something not you. You did not expect, however, to have him kiss you the way he did. Or to have him kiss you at all.

Word Count: 1800

Author’s Note: I had to write something with Nini and shimmy shimmy kokobop I think like it? Adkajdkka will probably be writing a second part? expect some Kyungsoo coming up soon?? ;) Anyway e n j o y.

*^* “This is a bad idea,” said Baekhyun for what would seem to be the eleventh time. He frowned profusely too, in what could only be reproachful manner. You should have known you couldn’t fool him, not him, Byun Baekhyun know-it-all. “But we’ve done this before,” you whined, hoping to soften his features. “When you were eight,” he pointed out with a glare. “And three years after that!” You reciprocated knowingly. As if it made much of a difference; Baekhyun would never have it. “We’re eighteen now, and—” “And you guys think you’re so clever to pull the stunt out once again,” he gave you a look, shaking his head disapprovingly, much like a mother. At your lack of compliance, he sighed. “To pretend to be your twin for three days, (Y/N), I thought you were smarter than this.” “Yah—” You began, but he held up his hand, unforgiving, prompting your mouth shut. “I would expect it coming from Sora’s ever so, uh, crafty, let’s say, mind, but for you to so willingly abide… How much has she offered?” Your mouth hung open for a second before you could recollect yourself and reply, with a subtle smile, in a most insult-driven voice that conveyed mock. “You think I’m selling off three days of my life to that little devil so lightly? To think so poorly of me, my best friend, really.”

He simply peeked through his glasses with paper blank features—and yet you still caught the glint to his eyes. “Oh, I see, then. This is for you, not your sister. Not just another of her endeavors at lazing around at home all day. And this seems fit, too—your parents out and about town celebrating their anniversary wouldn’t doubt for a second about you having "suddenly fallen sick”. You’re too much of a responsible person to ever do that, too much of a good girl to lie.“

He smiled now, with the chilling fluidity of someone having figured out even the deepest intricacies of your mind. "A good girl that one day or another would snap, with the weariness of years of obedience. I always wondered when—never once though it would be so soon.” Fourteen years. Fourteen years bygone around the small, compliant, witty Baekhyun and yet—his way around you, truly you, still send some shivers down your spine. You whacked his arm and he whimpered away, giving you the chance at his specs. “You know me too damn well, Byun Baekhyun,” you pushed at the specs by the bridge, letting them slide up your nose, smiling. “As do I you. Now, tell me. Is your concern directed at my oh-so-rebellious conduct or at the fact that you might miss my dear Sora a little too much?”

Baekhyun groaned audibly and reached to run an indignant hand through his mess of a hair, light brown and undone. “We promised not to speak of this. Not here. And most definitely not with you dressed as her.” “Oh my,” you gasped, “Might you actually catch feelings for me instead?” “Right,” he caught his glasses with a half-fake skepticism, placing them back on their place. “That would be disastrous,” you admitted.

Baekhyun—you could never think of him that way, not having known him, confided in him, for more than half of your life. His visible infatuation for your sister had been just that: utterly visible. For you and almost everyone around—except, obviously, Sora herself. Besides, almost everyone could have sworn it to be a mere crush roused from years of amity and Baekhyun’s admiration for her. Granted, you’d thought the same, but you understood most of it by now. “So I assume I won’t be seeing you for the rest of the day,” Baekhyun gave a small, rueful pout. “Oh, I’ve got a different schedule, right.” You frowned slightly, “Can’t you find me in my way to class? Don’t be afraid to say hello, I’m not actually Sora, remember?” Baekhyun flushed lightly, “Of course you’re not, and I’m not afraid! But I would guess you’ll have lines of people wanting to talk to you and will not expect you, as Sora, to stand and talk to someone like me.” You winced a bit, “Sora would never think like that, you know—”

The bell chimed then and Baekhyun only chuckled, shaking his head and pating your back tenderly, “Just don’t get lost,” and he walked away. You stood still for a moment, before walking forth with the intention of going to class. You felt a little sympathetic, suddenly, a little sad—for your best friend, for Baekhyun. Too busy wondering about the inevitable woeful wanders of love, you failed to hear the creak of a door, an inconspicuous room coming open. And a silent scream, then, fingers hooking themselves on the material of your jacket, and a pull. All around was darkness as the last bit of light vanished behind the closing door. Your breath hitched by your throat and you threw your arms around as a defense mechanism. A very bad defense mechanism. Fists only meeting blank space. There was light… “My, anyone would think you weren’t expecting me,” his head was thrown back, jacket irresistibly hanging low on his shoulders letting the outline of them, of his neck and jaw, ever more dangerously exposed.

He sat on a counter desk which had been lying about in the discarded office room and stared almost sinfully at you with a smile. You swallowed nothing at all but with the urgency of someone who’d been drowning and begging to breathe. Jongin usually had that effect on people. “So,” His head tilted slightly to the left, prompting long threads of hair to fall upon his eyes, the black of them obscuring brown irises. “Have I actually managed to surprise you once, eh, Sor?” You stared. Sor was a name you had given her when you both were ten. It hadn’t stuck at first, not really. Not until newcomer Kim Jongin managed his way to your neighborhood and began calling her that way. Thereafter only the closest of friends referred to her that way, Baekhyun included. Though Jongin—he became a stranger to you the years following. It was strange, how close the two of you had gotten at some time. Through the years leading up to high school you could almost have considered the two of you inseparable, and it had been hard to think of it otherwise. Hard until it just happened. Memories came in a flood, so sudden you managed to overlook the starkness of his presence. Jongin taking your hand, cradling, if possible, your fingers with his. He smiled at you, different from the smile that would rouse in the years that were to come—his eyes leveled with yours so that you had no need to look up. The prettiest, chastest smile. “Come on, (Y/N),” he pouted, looking frail and young, a kid. “Just this once?” “I’m not going to get into the water, Jongin,” your voice, albeit being that of a twelve year old, was firm. “Mama will not like my clothes to become wet.” “But your mom is so calm,” he whined. “You’re the one stopping yourself from doing anything at all.” You frowned, “That is not true, I—” “Just live!” It was a silent beg, impalpable, almost not there at all—you were far too irritated to even begin to notice, anyway.

Little Jongin smiled, tugging at your hand, “Together. With me?” You sighed, running the hand he did not hold through your hair, not really looking at him but seeing him still. “With you.” He smiled now but it was an alien smile. A distant one, a different one. He stepped forward and was right before you before you could take another breath—too close for you to simply reach and touch him. Perhaps you did. Perhaps he did, too. But ‘perhaps’ was not an option for him, for he already had. His lips were on yours—or were they? You felt far too awestruck to even begin to realize. Not before there was a wave, vast and enveloping, of scorching heat and hazardous adrenaline.

You closed your eyes, then, though not before getting a proper look of his, the way they hid behind his hair, the way they fluttered closed when you gasped. You shivered even as he burned. His hands mapped your cheeks and jaw, the back of your neck as he cradled your face, your back and sides before opting for the small of your back, bringing you flush against him, all of him.

Your hands, your fingers, skimmed down his neck, his arms, stilling defiantly and in fists around the soft material of his shirt, it lifting up in between the brusqueness, and your knuckles grazed untouched skin under it. He groaned, desperate and something more.

A little something, a hidden something… Something you couldn’t linger on with you being propped onto something, maybe a wall, you didn’t care. You gasped feverishly when his lips glided down, to your jaw and neck and, oh, God, you felt alive. Jongin fought a groan in his throat when your hands jumped to his hair—not shaking but not entirely stable either—where they pulled lightly at the wildness of it. You heard him mutter something—intangible breathe on your skin. And his lips were on your lips and there was nothing that could make pull back, push away. Not with his mouth working yours with its exquisite nature, not with his teeth tugging sinfully at your flesh, or with his fingers handling you with such grave tenderness despite the feral palpitations under their tips… “Oh, God, Sora.” The crash of a wave and there were ripples. Your pulse that ran aimless staggered and you fought down a painful breath. Your hands on his shoulders and you pushed hesitantly away, almost unwilling. Almost. “Stop,” your voice was small, firm, something more. Something, you knew, he wouldn’t linger on—and neither would you. He bit his lip, flush red and swollen, unforgivingly. “What’s wrong?” He breathed, still close enough so that his breath merged with yours. “I—” You looked away. You couldn’t tell him the truth. Not now, not ever, you would guess. He didn’t know you were not Sora, he didn’t know you were you, he didn’t seem to know who you were, anyway. He chuckled, and you did look at him then. “You don’t want to be too late to class.” Too late. You were never ever late to begin with. “That’s right,” you complied, absentmindedly. Whatever could get you out of here would be enough. “We shall go, then, My Lady.” His hand outstretched, a tentative offer. His hair tousled black and wild was a stark contrast to the grace of his posture. He was an untamed prince with the sagaciousness of a thief—robbing your breath with the unchaste trick of his lips. “Together?” You asked. You couldn’t help it. “With me?” A smile like an old photograph. “With you.”

#exo #exo scenario #exo imagines #exo oneshot #exo fluff #exo angst #exo reactions #exo kai #exo jongin #kai scenario #kai fluff #jongin scenario #kim jongin #jongin angst #jongin fluff #exo baekyun #baekhyun scenario #kpop

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matskreider-blog · 7 years ago

Note

So I know I'm a little behind with sending this in but for that fic prompt thing but how about 5 (Just breathe) with juuse/pekka or 17 (yeah, I have a plan) with burky/holtby? Please don't feel like you have to do both if you don't want too. Also I love your writing and just your blog in general!

17. “Yeah, I have a plan.” “Is it a good one?” “I have a plan.” james bond au, number 5 answered right here !

“If I’ve told you once, 008, I’ve told you a million times. I work hard to engineer these, by hand, and I’m not explaining to M again why you felt the need to destroy a few million dollars worth of machinery because you couldn’t be bothered to listen to the plan. You’re an entire fool if you think I won’t make him put you on desk duty again, and if he doesn’t, I will make you wish. He. Had. Do you understand me?” Nicklas growls, staring down Ovi from across his desk.

Ovi’s reputation for destroying the gadgets created by their Quartermaster was legendary, and Nicklas’ predecessor had simply learned how to navigate around his destructive tendencies. Nicklas, however, was determined to teach an old dog new tricks, and everyone had betting pools about which of them would crack first. He wasn’t the first to try to set Ovi straight, but he was the one who had lasted the longest.

Braden leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, having just returned from his Raleigh mission. The time difference wasn’t so severe that he was jet lagged, but he felt like he was losing all hope of sleep just watching Nicklas and Ovi go at it. He’s letting his eyes rest when he hears a timid set of footsteps coming up beside him. He lets the newcomer squirm for a little bit, before finally saying, “If you have a question, it helps to actually ask it rather than just sitting there in fear.”

When he cracks his eyes open, he sees a rather determined pout coming from Nicklas’ favorite underling, a new guy called Burakovsky. “Sorry, 0070. I was going to offer to debrief you, if you were waiting for Q. He’s, um…going to be busy for a while.”

Sure enough, the argument was reaching new levels, and Braden sighs, knowing it’s better to just take the help when it’s offered. “Sure, Burakovsky. Let’s go.”

“You can call me Burkie, if you want. Nicke does, sometimes,” Burkie says, before turning on his heel and opening up the debriefing paperwork on his tablet. “Come along, I’ll enter it all in so you can head right to medical after this.”

He must really be new, if he thinks I’m going to medical after this, Braden thinks to himself, before following along.

Burkie and Braden get closer over the following months, before they get a visit from the favored set of Swedish twins. The Lundqvist twins’ visit were a sigh of relief for everyone who had to deal with Nicklas during that time, because he was actually unclenched, for whatever reason. Henrik and Joel specialized in clothing based weaponry, accessories and what not, and their visits usually meant an upgrade in the agents’ wardrobes.

It also meant watching Henrik try not to peel Ovi out of his denim disasters and force him into something “suited for a spy of his caliber.” It was an age old battle, and Braden took great pleasure in watching the struggle. He did not, however, take pleasure in watching Burkie practically hanging off of the twins’ every word, whether it was Henrik talking about the difference between Oxfords and Brogues, or Joel walking him through the proper form on the shooting range.

He also should have been paying more attention when Burkie started asking for customized outfits from the twins. He probably should have been paying attention when he heard the rumor that he was shaping up to pass the fitness test. He definitely should have realized when he found Burkie, shirtless and panting, fighting Wilson in hand to hand. And holding his own, which was impressive in its own right.

But he was too busy trying not to lust after the one person who was perhaps harder to get to than Nicklas, but for the same reason; Nicklas himself. For a spy, he really wasn’t on his A game when it came to the young Swede, because he wound up finding himself completely blindsided as M sat him down and said, “You’re taking Burakovsky into the field.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir?”

“You’re taking Burakovsky into the field. He’s passed the requirements to enter the field. Take him with you on your next mission. You already have the details. Your flight leaves this afternoon, though; better hurry. I hear he’s already packed,” M replies, taking a sip of his bourbon and smirking at Braden.

He’s fucked.

Correction; they’re fucked.

They’re at a party in New York, and Braden’s already made his rounds, introducing people to Burkie as his business partner, before retreating to the smoke lounge. He can see Burkie still up and socializing, never once getting too hung up on one person, making his way through the room. Braden’s job is to talk to the Boss, currently sitting at his left, while Burkie distracts his coworkers long enough that he can figure out if he actually ordered the hit on the Russian ambassador or not.

All is going according to plan, until Burkie finds himself in a position that normally would be okay, but now, isn’t the best. Braden forces himself to bite his tongue as he listens to Burkie’s weak attempts to say no, and he catches sight of a gold dress practically pushing Burkie up the stairs.

“No, no I really shouldn’t –”

“Come on, live a little,” Gold Dress purrs, in a painfully fake French accent, just close enough to Burkie’s ear that Braden can pick it up.

“If you want some help, all you have to do is ask,” Braden murmurs into his glass. From the gasp on the other side, his words may have come too late.

“I mean, if you wanted to help me, that would be great. I mean, do you have a plan?” he answers to Braden, but Gold Dress takes it to mean it’s for her.

“Yeah, I have a plan.”

Gold Dress must be talking, because Burkie is silent for a moment too long. Braden politely excuses himself from the room, draining the rest of his whiskey and making his way upstairs. There’s a crackling in the earpiece, before he hears a muttered, “Is it a good one?”

“I said, I have a plan,” he mutters back, putting his hand on the doorknob of the room they’re in. He takes a breath, before throwing the door open, and walking in, pulling the jealous lover routine quite easily.

“I leave you for five minutes and you go and find the nearest tramp, is that it?” he growls, staring Burkie down.

The young Swede is spread on the bed, his shirt unbuttoned and Gold Dress straddling him. Burkie tries to move, stuttering out, “It isn’t what it looks like.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Andre,” Braden returns. The shock in Burkie’s eyes, that he not only knows his first name but is willing to use it, adds to the drama. Gold Dress quietly gets off of Andre, sitting on the edge of the bed in silence. Braden walks over and hauls Andre up to his feet, and pulls him into a bruising, claiming kiss. It’s not the way he thought he would make his move on Andre, if he ever did, and he can practically hear Nicke having a conniption when he hears about this, but Andre’s melting into his arms and his thinking shuts off.

By the time he pulls back, Andre’s looking up at him with stars in his wide eyes, and he’s all too warm and pliant in his arms. Gold Dress is long gone, and Braden clears his throat, stepping back. “Did, um. Did you get what we came here for?”

“Oh.” Disappointment clouds his gaze. “Oh, um, yeah. Yeah, there’s no way he could have. I checked all their weapons, it, um, doesn’t match the caliber. If he did order it, it didn’t come from inside his Family,” Andre answers.

“Well, good job. We should head back.” He should be headed towards the door, but he doesn’t want to let go of Andre just yet. Who knows when he could have this again?

“We could. But, um. There’s more of the city to explore, if you wanted,” Andre murmurs, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose a bright red. “Even if it’s just our hotel room…”

Braden smirks at what has got to be the shyest proposition he’s ever received. “I think that could be arranged.”

He’s not expecting the following kiss, but then again he’s never really expecting anything when it comes to Andre.

#kay answers #anon #kay writes #otp: i found god in a lover #once again; making au's that i don't have tags for yayyy #and thank you for the compliment lovely!!#i'm glad people enjoy it just as much as i do

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annacakes · 7 years ago

Photo

Guns of Gamara - First Appearances (click for full resolution)

Instead of studying for my HSC I spent the last few days drawing this for a Guns of Gamara AU i’ve had for awhile. i tried to take things from the 84 Voltron including insp. for their outfits, leadership roles in the group, and the overall plot, as well as making parallels to Legendary Defender.

(also, Galra!Lance was inspired by another drawing of Galra!Lance so if anyone can link me to that post, i’ll be forever grateful!)

Keith is a half-Altean/half-human hybrid who accompanied Colleen and Matt Holt, and Shiro to Kerberos as a co-pilot/apprentice

Alteans found them on Kerberos due to Keith’s bloodline and they are captured

Keith gets sent to Altea as “Alteans belong to Altea”, has his Altean physical features “unlocked” through the use of distilled quintessence, and is placed in a minor fighting ring since he’s only an Altean-hybrid rather than purely Altean

Keith escaped Altea with the help of Kolivan and his team before they caused an uproar as a distraction on Altea among other things

Colleen and Matt don’t fight their captors and are simply sent to a refugee camp as they are allowed to keep their free will

Shiro attempts to defend the others from any dangers the Alteans pose by trying to reason with them. This is seen as an act of defiance and is sent to a holding prison where his free will can be taken from him (Shiro also isn’t in the pic is bc i only decided he’s in the AU while writing this sooooo)

Shiro is also Sven’s twin brother and at the age of five, were left orphaned. An American family adopted Shiro, and a Norwegian family adopted Sven, however each family let the two brother’s stay in contact with each other until Sven moved back to the US to join the Garrison.

Empress Allura uses a mixture of quintessence, Altean magic, and other lesser ingredients to keep herself, and her closest advisers alive for thousands of years, including Coran who has been acting as a secret informant for the Guns of Gamara for the majority of her reign

He acts as an informant for the Gamara bc while he was fiercly loyal to King Alfor and his family, he had worked as his adviser long enough to know that he would not approve of how Allura rules in the slightest, and so places his hopes in a group of rebels to try and stop her

He gets caught however, and flees Altea heading towards the last operative base belonging to the Guns of Gamara.

The base however, had recently been attacked by Alteans and had been kept in one piece with the bodies of the members still inside, rather than being destroyed and an act that warns those who seek out the rebels as to what would happen to them if they rebelled against Empress Allura

Coran finds Lance unconscious, and badly wounded but alive and quickly gets him to a healing pod on one of the Gamara’s largest battleships. Finding no other survivors, he destroys the base and flies towards the outskirts of the Solar System as it lies beyond Altea’s Empire.

Lance eventually wakes up and joins Coran on the bridge where he explains his situation and Lance begins to explain what happened to the Gamara

The Altean ship Keith stole interrupts their conversation as the ship heads for Earth

Not knowing where the ship came from, why the ship is in such a hurry, or who they were, Coran and Lance followed the ship to Earth

Coran camouflaged the ship in the desert whilst Lance dressed in clothes that covered every inch of his skin including his face. He takes a smaller speeder and heads towards the crash site alone.

Pidge enrolls at the Garrison under a fake name in hopes of finding her mother and brother.

Sven helps her get into the Garrison using her fake identity because he knows what it feels like to have someone close to you go missing without a trace, and hopes that Pidge might discover something that can lead to some answers

Hunk is Pidge’s best fried at the Garrison and can occasionally calm down Pidge’s temper. When he can’t Sven acts as damage control and often gets her out of trouble

Hunk follows Pidge to the roof, worried that she might be caught out of bed after hours on the night of the crash

They sneak away from the barracks when the lock down is called but are unaware that they are followed by Sven who gives them a fright when he makes his presence known when they are spying on the Garrison at the crash site

Sven (being an instructor) tells them they should go back to the barracks despite Pidge’s protests having seen Keith on the surveillance cameras

Before they could do so however, Lance creates a distraction using a blaster/shooter/gun that was mounted onto the speeder to distract the Garrison

Pidge, Hunk, and a reluctant Sven follow him into the building where they find Lance carrying a barely conscious Keith

As Lance doesn’t know that Keith is only a hybrid-Altean, he intended to take him back to the ship to investigate whether he was on their side or not

Knowing that the Garrison will soon be returning, Lance lets Pidge, Hunk, and Sven follow him to his speeder where they all get on and head towards the Gamara battleship

The Garrison chase them for a short time, but they eventually lose them

I imagine Lance’s return to the battleship goes a little like this: Lance: Coran! I’m back open the cargo door! Coran: Did you find who the ship belonged to? Lance: An Altean apparently. I have him with me, but he’s unconscious right now Coran: Okay well- Lance: And a few others native to this planet Coran: a few native inhabitants? Bring them onboard then, I trust that you trust them of course Lance: Of course! Pidge, Hunk, Sven: ?? Alteans????? native inhabitants??????? what

Once on the ship, Lance takes Keith and puts him in a healing pod while Pidge, Hunk, and Sven meet Coran in the bridge: Hunk: y’know i always thought aliens would look more alien Coran: i don’t know, you look like an alien to me Lance: *entering the bridge while taking off his excess clothes* what did you think an alien would look like? Hunk: well, i was expec- *sees Lance* Lance: what? what were you expecting Hunk: you. i was expecting you

Keith eventually wakes up from his healing pod and gets a quick interrogation by Lance and Coran but stop once they find out he’s and Altean-hybrid that recently escaped Altea

Before deciding on what they can do next (considering that two aliens are now on Earth, Keith no longer looks human, and Pidge, Hunk, and Sven have recently been declared missing or so the radio Pidge tuned into says), an Altean ship that had been chasing Keith begins to orbit around Earth

As a group, they decide to leave the Solar System and travel to a base light years away that has been abandoned by the Gamara for millennia so the Altean ship follows them, leaving Earth alone

Now that Lance is awake, the battleship (originally of Galra design) can now “jump” to further distances at hyperspeed

They lead the Altean ship away from Earth, and eventually lose them once they make a “jump”

They land the ship on an uninhabited planet that’s nearly completely covered in forest save for a large patch of ground that used to be the landing platform

Once inside the abandoned Gamara base, they activate it’s computer system which leads them to eventually find Slav who had been hiding in the base

Both Coran and Lance finally explain in full why they are here, and what has happened throughout the rest of the universe for the past 10,000 years

Keith, Pidge, Hunk, and Sven all agree to help them fight against the oppressive rule of Empress Allura

They all eventually realise after some time that they are in dire need of both allies and weapons and so make a plan:

Sven and Slav are sent to investigate the strange wormhole and destroy it if need be (Hole in the Sky)

Keith, Pidge, and Hunk are sent to rescue Kolivan and his team who had recently been captured and sent to a holding prison

Coran and Lance are first sent to Altea to the last Galra ship that had once belonged to Zarkon that held every Galra secret including the location on where Lotor and his generals were being cryogenically frozen (in the AU, by the time Zarkon plans to destroy Altea, Lotor is an adult). They then head to that planet and unfreeze(?) Lotor and his generals

Whilst in the Guns of Gamara, Lotor is on their side as long as their goal is to take down Empress Allura, though he still is morally grey and his methods are questionable at best

Whether or not Lotor’s generals betray him in this AU is still up for debate as I began this AU before s4 came out, so they were always going to stay with Lotor but now idk

I think that’s just about all the headcanons I have for this AU now, I might add some more/save them for the next group shot of all the important characters I missed^^

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torisfeather · 7 years ago

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Lovino smiled as he stopped talking for a few moments, bringing to his lips the delicious Sicilian wine he had ordered. The young girl in front of him was admiring him with devotion, holding onto his every word. He kept speaking with the charming tone he kept for beauties such as her. She was beautiful indeed: short brown locks like dark chocolate slivers, held back in a messy bun, large green eyes with thick, perfect eyelashes, tan skin like she just came back from summer vacation, full, playful lips adorned with lip-gloss, an incredibly sexy Latin accent… Her face seemed familiar and she might be slightly older than him, but that was far from bothering him.

The light was slowly softening, the music was growing sweeter, languorous. He set his glass down and let his hand land delicately over the one his guest had innocently left near him. They weren’t talking anymore, their eyes locked on each other. Lovino could feel his throat drying. As much as he liked to brag about his charm (this delightful creature was enough proof), it was the first time he would kiss a girl.

She went ahead first. She bent over the table, intertwining their fingers, and bringing their two faces closer. Lovino couldn’t move. Slowly, she applied her tempting lips to the young boy’s, silently asking to enter his mouth. He granted her access and their tongues found each other in a possessive ballet. It was simply magical. The best experience he ever lived…

He heard someone talking to him. Far. Far away from the marvelous apparition offering herself to him. Maybe a waiter asking them not to do such things in the restaurant. He did not care, for now he only cared about those lips to which the gloss gave a taste akin to… tomato? This girl was definitely perfect.

Unfortunately, the person asking for attention was insisting. Couldn’t they see he was busy doing something more important than paying the bill, really? The voice kept pushing, more distinct, more familiar. Lovino knew that voice. But he wasn’t going to listen, no sir! He wanted that moment to go on, and on…

Meeting the ground was a surprise. Lovino opened his eyes. No more chic restaurant, no more pretty girl, he was in his room and his brother was stuttering apologies, his blanket in his hands. And he had a bump on top of that. “Damn it, Feliciano! Would it kill you to have waited two more seconds?”

“Veeee… But, fratello…”

“I don’t give a shit, okay? On week-ends, I’M SLEEPING! So give me a fucking break!” He went back to bed and stubbornly closed his eyes, ready to keep the act. Then he opened them again and looked at his brother. “AND GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING BLANKET, DAMN IT!”

“B-b-but… Fratello… vee…” Feliciano didn’t know what to do anymore. Lovino took the blanket from him and rolled himself in it until he looked like a giant burrito, then dropped himself on the mattress and snored exaggeratedly to let him know he was sleeping. Feliciano fidgeted with his hands for a few moments, then leaned towards his brother. “Lovino… You see, the cafeteria is closing in a half-hour and we won’t get a breakfast if we miss it…” A grumble raised from him, which meant the argument was getting to him. Feliciano had a playful smile and leaned forward to whisper in his ear: “They say on weekends, they have sfogliatella…”

The Italian went completely silent and Feliciano’s smile grew. He won. “Ok, I’ll come…” Lovino grumbled in his pillow.

“Veee!” Feliciano chirped before running to his closet to get his brother some clothes. Because of course he could get up before his brother, especially when food was involved. So he was dressed already. However, when he turned back to the bed, Lovino was still tightly wrapped up in his quilt, silent. “Well? Aren’t you getting up?”

“Yes, yes… I am, idiot…” A moment went by as Lovino struggled inside his blanket cocoon. They he stopped again. “Help me, dumb ass. I’m stuck…”

Of course, there were no sfogliatellas at the cafeteria. It was just the best way to get Lovino up when he was in a bad mood. Brother tactic, made in Feliciano. Thankfully, there were warm croissants and tomato juice. So Lovino wasn’t in too much of a huff, despite the absence of his favorite pastry.

Now cam the hard part: convince Lovino to come and visit all the clubs with Feliciano for club day.

“I’m sure there is an art club!”

“I’m not coming.”

“There is also a sport club, I saw them train.”

“I’m not coming.”

“Lud’ told me his brother was in a music club. Wouldn’t it be great if you could sing? I know you can do pretty well when you’re trying!”

“… I’m definitely not coming.”

“But… Fratello…” Feliciano had a disappointed frown. He had been looking forward to spending this day with his brother he loved despite his bad moods, his language, his manners and his hypocrisy… “Ve… I really don’t wanna go visit alone…”

“That’s your problem, you little shit.”

“I’d ask Ludwig but he said he was the journalism club’s captain…”

“…”

“So he’s gonna be in the History room all morning…”

“…”

“Well, I guess I could stay with him for the moment! And then we’ll go visit everything else in the afternoon, ve!”

“…”

“So I’ll be with Ludwig all day! Isn’t that neat?”

“… Okay, I’ll come with you.”

“Really?!”

Lovino nodded, looking like a man who’d just sentenced himself to death as Feliciano started dancing with joy around him. Well, it was still better than leaving his brother alone and vulnerable with the potato bastard.

“Oh… So you’re interested in the delicate and refined art of gastronomy?” Francis winked at them and turned around for a second to start the oven’s pre-heat timer. Romano took advantage of that time to stick two fingers in his mouth, showing his brother what he thought of the French boy. Feliciano refrained from laughing and tried to stay serious when Francis turned to them again with a large smile, ready to explain how delicate and refined his club was.

“Francis! Where the fuck is my loukoum pan?!” Sadiq yelled from the other side of the kitchen.

“In your ass, dick head!” Romano couldn’t help himself from saying before the French boy could even open his mouth. He was bored as hell after all, so might as well have a bit of fun!

Francis pinched his nose bridge with a sigh of despair as the Turk boy looked up from the stove to see who had the nerve to talk back to him like this. “Third cupboard, Sadiq!” he called to calm his friend down.

“Ve, ve, Francis?”

“Yes?”

“Can I join your club?”

A large smile split the French boy’s face in half. “But of course! The cuisine deserves to be shared!”

“Ve!”

“However, you must know we demand quality skills.”

“Ve!”

“If you wish to join, you will have to pass several quite strict tests to prove to us your gustative sensitivity and your culinary talents.”

“… Ve?”

“Oh, and please keep in mind that if you believe yourself better than me in cooking, I would be glad to have a friendly fencing challenge with you, what do you say?”

“V-ve?!”

A few minutes later, Francis went back to making his apple-pear-cinnamon pie.

“So, any candidates, aru?” Yao asked from the corner furthest from the stove, kneading his future almond biscuits

“They changed their mind,” Francis answered calmly.

“Fehu.”

“Nope. That was Ansuz.”

“Shit.”

“Could you knock it off? I’m trying to make a decent page in the grimoire and you guys are not helping!”

“Sorry, Dylan.”

“Boys, warn me when there is no more thyme! What do I use for my amulet, now?”

“Just take the verbena, Fiona. You could use it…”

“Are you saying I have emotional problems?”

“Uh… Yeah.”

“Well, fuck you!”

“Guys, for a ritual against fatigue, do I use cinnamon or rose incense?”

“Neither, Arthur. Use violet, read the grimoire again.”

“When the ink is dry!”

“I’m not an idiot, thank you very much!”

“And read the memory ritual again too!”

“And if you find one that helps get that stick out your ass, do it immediately, I’ll even help!”

“Thank you a lot, Oscar, Allister, Dylan. If I find one that gives you a brain, I’ll tell you…”

Feliciano and Lovino shared a glance. And then tip-toed back out of the Litterature room, promising to themselves they would not come back here after classes are over.

“Ah, hi boys!”

Mrs. Jones was there, paint brush in her hand, in front of her canvas. She stood up to greet the twins and they noticed her jeans covered in paint stains. The art room was quite empty compared to other clubs. Thankfully, the few students there were probably geniuses for the numerous works exposed on the walls and shelves were all beautiful.

“Are you here to join the art club?”

“I am!” Feliciano immediately chirped. “Romano, though…”

“Leave me out of this, dumbass…”

As his brother filled up the inscription chart with his name, class and signature, Romano took a look at the works. There was pottery, charcoal sketching, canvases, wood and stone sculptures, photography, models made out of trash. Everything. He looked down and saw three students that looked way too young to be here. The first one was a little girl wearing purple and a beret from which fell two long white braids. The second one was a little redhead with a fake scar across his face, and the last one was a little girl wearing a flower in her brown hair. They were all ten at most.

“They are the town’s children,” Aiyanna explained when she noticed Lovino’s interest. “They come here to paint almost every Saturday. I wouldn’t bother them if I were you.”

Indeed, despite their young age, they seemed extremely focused on their respective canvases. Especially the white haired girl. Even if she was still just using a pencil, her drawing was already wonderful. And the two others were close behind. Lovino couldn’t say he had such talent.

“Fratello! Fratello! Let’s go!”

In the meantime, in the french room…

“Finally! I was wondering when you were going to join!”

“Oh, uh, sorry?”

Tino smiled a little. He had had lunch with the “Nordics” all week but he didn’t know they were an actual club. At least, not until Berwald brought him here without asking like he always did… He really had to find some time to make things clear between them.

However, he really couldn’t see what kind of club they were. The French room didn’t have any real device, except for some empty closet nobody used. “Say, what kind of club is that?”

“Well we protect the school in the name of justice with incredible fu…”

“Forget it, he’s being stupid,” Lukas grumbled from his chair. He was reading, eyes as empty as usual, as his brother ate licorice sticks next to him.

“Actually, we don’t do much. It’s just a way of saying we’re a group. Sometimes we talk, or we play board games…”

“Oh, okay. So it’s kind of like a… friendship club?”

“Whoah, hey, that actually sound pretty good!” Mathias exclaimed. “A little lovey-dovey but it’s cool!”

Tino had a small shy smile.

“Well there you go! Oh, and incase you were wondering, yes, I am the king of this club!” said the boy with spikey hair, attracting looks of pity from the rest of the club. He went and grabbed Lukas’ shoulder with a large smile. “And this is my queen!”

Lukas calmly sat his book down, stood, looked at Mathias, kicked him in the legs, sending the Danish boy down, sat back down and went back to reading, all of this with a perfect self-control. Tino realized with a jump that he was already used to that kind of scene.

“So… If Mathias and Lukas are king and queen, what if Emil was the bishop, Berwald the rock and I would be the knight,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.

Berwald immediately sent him a terrifying look and Tino screamed, then apologized for saying something so… Whatever Berwald thought of it. But when he looked up, the Swedish boy was just surprised.

“Ya d’n’t need t’ ap’log’ze.” He reached out and possessively pulled the finish boy close. Tino couldn’t move. “I j’st thought ‘t was c’te.”

During the week, when he had gone to get a book, Feliciano had wondered why the philosophy room’s closet was full of sleeping bags. Now he knew.

“Feli! Lovi! Are you joining the siesta club?”

Antonio thought it was very funny to compare the brothers’ reactions. As Feliciano had just tilted his head with interest, Lovino had crossed his arms, grumbled and looked away.

“Ve, siesta? It’s a club where you can sleep?”

“Hum… yes, but not just that. See the guy over there, with brown hair?”

Yes, the guy fighting with the Turk they had seen at the gastronomy club a half-hour ago. Hard to miss him. Especially because he had just fallen asleep. In the middle of the fight. Fist up, ready to punch his rival. Rival that seemed on the verge of despair and just let the boy fall on one of the sleeping bag, waiting for him to wake up. Yes, they saw him.

“Well, that’s Heracles, the club captain, he can make people fall asleep and control their dreams. Well, make them come into his dreams and control that.”

“Oh, ok. What about the guys trying to kill him?”

“Oh, that’s Sadiq, his roommate. They fight whenever Heracles is awake.”

“Oh, okay…”

The boy didn’t seem very patient. And Feliciano didn’t really want to know why he was wearing a mask.

“So, as I was saying, we have collective dreams here, so we do pretty crazy stuff. Last time, we did sky-diving-canoe over Niagara Falls.”

“That sounds awesome!” Feliciano exclaimed with stars in his eyes.

“It is! There is just one tiny problema…” He turned to the greek boy Sadiq was trying to wake up by slapping him so they could start fighting again. “He’s got narcolepsy. So we have to remind him to get us to sleep before he does. Otherwise it’s pretty hard to get him to wake up…”

In the end, the Turk just let it go and left a small metal box on the greek boy’s body before powerwalking away, looking pretty pissed.

“So, do you want to join?”

“Ve!” Feliciano confirmed.

“Ludwig! Ciao! Ciao, ciao!”

The German boy talking with Kiku had barely enough time to turn around before an overexcited Italian fell into his arms. He was starting to get used to his over-affectionate shenanigans and didn’t complain when the little brunet snuggled up to him for his “good morning hug”. However…

“Oh? Ciao, Kiku!”

The Japanese boy almost had an attack when his adorable classmate threw himself at him and kissed him on both cheeks while holding him so tight he was pretty sure his lungs were going to spill out through his nose. “F-F-Fe-Feliciano-kun, p-p-p-p-please let me go.”

Feliciana stepped back and Kiku tried his best to calm down. Since he got into the school, he was trying his best not to panic when someone stood a little too close or was a little too affectionate, but the Italian boy’s surprise-hugs were just too much. It wasn’t that he did not enjoy his company, he was probably the classmate that had been the friendliest to him so far. They just didn’t think the same way. To Kiku, a hug or a kiss was an affection gesture between old friends or close family, shouldn’t be done in public and meant deep feelings. To Feliciano, it was like saying “hi”.

As soon as he had his fill of hugs, Feliciano starting telling them everything about his morning, especially detailing the way his brother had been accidentally put to sleep by Heracles when he had bet with Antonio that he could wake him up.

“So, Ludwig? How is it going? How many members does the journalism club have so far?

Ludwig hesitated for a few seconds. “Two.”

“Two? Two that joined you, right?”

“No, we’re just two.” Facing the Italian’s stunned face, he explained: “We were three last year, but they were on their last year. So yes, that leaves only me, and Kiku who just joined.”

The boy turned to his Japanese classmate who nodded. “V-Ve?! That’s horrible!”

“If we’re organized, we can do a decent job.”

“But you are all alone! Ve, it’s too sad… I’ll… I’ll join!”

Ludwig’s eyes grew huge. “You?”

“Yeah!”

“You are interested in journalism?”

Feliciano nodded vividly. “For example, Papà has tons of very cool magazines with tons of pretty models and he has some he doesn’t want me to read but that are probably amazing because he keeps them under his mattress so he won’t lose them…

“Not that kind of journalism…”

Feliciano tilted his head. “What kind, then?”

And Ludwig spent two hours explaining how the school’s journal worked as Feliciano listened more or less attentively until he passed out on a table…

As for Kiku, he left the history room, quite glad he found a serious activity he could tell his parents about next time he’d send them an e-mail. They would probably be proud to know their son was part of the journalism club. And he was happy with it too. It was the best arrangement.

The day was only just beginning but the young Japanese boy knew he probably wouldn’t join any other club. He had no particular talent for cooking, arts or music, had a feeble constitution that would not do any good in sports, and really didn’t see the point in joining the “nap club”. As for all the other clubs, they seemed more like discussion groups, which was of limited interest. Well, he could always give them a chance.

Actually, as he thought this, he walked by the geography room. The paper sheet taped on it said “student help club”. Well this seemed quite honorable. Hesitating slightly, he stopped. What could be the harm in trying? He pushed the door.

Alfred was standing on top of a table and seemed in the middle of a longue explanation about the club’s objectives as two or three students around him listened with more or less interested faces. “… And so, the goal is to show everyone how HEROIC our club is by doing our HERO duty all year round, which means helping students who… Oh, hi, Kiku-chan!”

Kiku sighed. He felt like some mischievous yokai was pushing him towards the most active student in the school all the time, just to f… mess with him. He gestured at Alfred to not pay him any mind and to keep talking.

“Oh, yeah, what was I saying? Right, helping students who have trouble with their lessons, or with other students. For example…” He pointed at Kiku and everybody looked in his direction. The young boy mentally slapped himself for not leaving as soon as he had walked in. “Making sure new students adapt smoothly, even when you have to help them personally! Every member of the club must act this way! That’s the duty of HEROS!”

And he started laughing for no apparent reason. Kiku decided he had seen enough and left the room. He would not join this club.

He walked around in the corridors for a while. Sometimes, he’d step into a room to listen someone brag about their club’s merit, but he would always leave unconvinced. Morning was almost over and he was sure there wasn’t anything more to see. Maybe he’d better go find a seat at the library and wait for the afternoon’s performances.

As he walked down the corridor, a detail suddenly caught his eye. A small book with a laminated cover, conspicuously sitting around a corner of wall. He approached, intrigued, and recognized the cover of the first tome of Sekaiichi Hatsukoi. His eyes widened and he quickly checked that nobody was watching. Thankfully for him, the corridor was currently empty.

He approached slowly, carefully, as if the combination of ink and paper might jump at him to bite his face off. Glancing around frequently, he bent forward and reached out for the manga… that flew a few feet away when he was about to touch it. Startled, Kiku fell forward and had to catch himself with his hands. He looked up to the spot the manga had slipped to, mocking him. He frowned. The yokai playing with his nerves was at it again?

He stood up and, again, walked carefully to the manga that fled as soon as he tried to take it. Growing more and more surprised, he tried going faster to catch it but the small book just slipped faster out of reach. Defied, the Japanese boy ran after the manga, down the staircase and into the playground, until he saw it disappear into the PCD room.

Kiku hesitated to follow it inside. He could remember all too well the joke Luna-sensei had put up for them at the beginning of the week. He wasn’t one of those who had really panicked but the experience still had its effect. If it was another joke trying to jumpstart some sort of power he didn’t know about, he’d rather walk away now and lock himself in his room. But, on the other side, such a plan just to bring him here was intriguing. And it would be cowardly not to take the challenge.

After a few more moments of deliberation, he stepped into the room, curiosity stronger than prudence.

The room was empty. No manga around. Nobody either, nothing. Kiku took a few more steps, looked left and right. No, nothing at all. Well, there might be someone hiding in the stockroom, but that didn’t seem as important all of a sudden. He chose to overlook the commotion he could here in the projection room and was about to walk away.

When his hands suddenly slapped themselves over his eyes. All by themselves. He tried to gain back control but it was impossible. As if some puppet-master had attached strings to his fingers and kept them firmly over his eyes to blind him. He heard the projection room’s door fly open and a dozen people run towards him. They bonded his legs, as his hands still wouldn’t budge, and took him away. He did not panic, waiting to know more about the situation in order to act consequently.

He was sat on a chair and strapped down. His arms were bound behind his back and he could see where he was. Apparently, he was brought into the projection room. His chair was placed before the projection screen. The shades were down, so it was quite dark. A silhouette was standing before him. It’s wasn’t easy to see it clearly in the dark but he could make out a skirt and long hair, which led him to think it was probably a girl. Or Feliks with a wig, but Kiku wasn’t sure why Feliks would need to wear a wig. Whoever that was, her face was hidden behind a white, roughly cut paper mask attached to her head with a piece of string. The Japanese boy could also feel the less than silent presence of several other people behind him.

The young girl loomed over him. If she was trying to intimidate him, she wasn’t trying hard enough, he wouldn’t be scared with this.

“Kiku Honda, or “Kiku-chan”,” she recited with a strange accent, something that sounded eastern-European. Kiku tried not to cringe. The nickname sounded strangely more insulting in another mouth than Alfred’s. “First year student at Hetako Academy, aged fourteen…”

“Fifteen,” Kiku mechanically corrected.

“… Fifteen, Japanese and gifted with “origami life”.” She stopped, as if trying to raise the suspense. “You were seen on Saturday September 7th, at 1021, walking around the yaoi section of Mrs. Suzuki’s store. According to our informants, you have reacted in an unusual fashion to the presence of boys-love posters on the walls.”

She stopped and stepped back with a dramatic look to turn the projector on. The image that appeared on the screen was cut in half. The first half showed a perfectly unknown boy standing in front of a shonen-ai poster. Laos, according to the very crappy quality, the picture was probably taken a long time ago. The second half, however, was a lot more recent as it showed Kiku standing in front of the same poster. The other difference was the two boys’ expression. While the lambda boy was very distinctly cringing, Kiku had a very attentive face, although quite neutral.

The young girl took a laser pointer and try to show something on the screen with the small red point. She was probably trying to look scientific and confident.

“Contrary to a male individual of your age, you haven’t manifested any disgust. Instead, you have briefly shown a kind of fascination for this sort of art. Plus, we know from relatable sources that boys avoid the yaoi section and walk by quickly if necessary. You, however, haven’t manifested any hurry and went there freely.”

She turned the projector off before the neutral gaze of Kiku who was honestly wondering if she had nothing better to do than watch people’s reaction in the yaoi isle.

“Lastly, you have manifested a positive reaction to our test consisting of luring you here with this,” she said, showing him the first tome of Sekaiichi Hatsukoi which cover was just tied to an invisible wire. A few claps started behind him but he didn’t even look away. “Now, I’ll offer you two options,” she finished when everything was silent again. She walked to him ominously, managing to make him uneasy. “First option: freely join the shipping club. Second option: be forced to join. Please keep in mind before making your choice that I have the gift of dominance and so you cannot say no to me.”

Kiku thought for a moment, impassively scrutinizing the olive green eyes he could almost make out under the paper mask. But at the back of his mind, he was laughing. This was just a fangirl club offering him to join. Problem was, even if he wasn’t really against it, he could not let it be known that he was into this. It was against his honor. But, well, if he didn’t have a choice, he could just say he was forced to help out. “I accept.”

“You won’t take that back?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

The young girl stopped and giggled silently. She tore her mask off, revealing a joyful face. “No, you don’t!” She gestured to the other to turn the light on and untie him. Kiku realized almost every girl in the school was there, including Mei and Faustina, watching him mockingly. There were about a dozen and a half. “Welcome to the club, Kiku-chan!” said Elizaveta, the one that had presented the little investigation, after she introduced herself. “Also, sorry about the whole act, I always wanted to do that!”

“I won’t hold it against you, Elizaveta senpai,” Kiku let slip. As soon as he said that, the shipping club captain suddenly blushed and hid behind her hands, squealing. Kiku gave her an incredulous look. “Elizaveta senpai? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, Kiku-chan. I just…” She managed to pull herself together and breathed in deeply. “I always wanted to be called senpai by such a cute uke… Ahem, I mean a boy.”

Kiku decided to pretend he hadn’t heard anything. “May I add a clause to my admission?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“That nobody will call me Kiku-chan again, please…”

In the afternoon, three different performances were scheduled.

The sport club’s football game was unbearably long. Actually, the game itself was rather short, but they needed three more players to have a decent game and Elizaveta not only yelled at the public for someone to get down there with them, but also decided to be picky about it. She refused Feliciano and Tino, as she had them since their arrival on her “uke we should keep away from masculine activities” list, Heracles, who didn’t hold it against her as he fell asleep on the lawn until his Turkish roommate kicked him awake, Alfred, who might break the equipment and didn’t know the difference between American football and every single other country in the world’s football (AKA soccer), as well as Francis, because last time she had let him play he had gone on strike mid-game.

The rest of the club managed to negotiate the participation of Fausto, Antonio’s brother, of Tim, who was Bella’s, and of Young Soo who had pointed out that “football originated in Korea, daze~” and the game could finally begin.

After they picked the teams.

Because that was another issue. As Gilbert wanted to be against Eliza, but also with Antonio, Tim wanted nothing to do with the Hispanic brothers, Elizaveta was trying to get everyone to obey her, Logan, the Australian kid, was arguing with Gilbert about who was the best and Young Soo was messing around with the ball, there was some madness material. In the end, everybody calmed down when Ludwig started yelling at them for fifteen minutes and picked the teams himself.

So, there was on one side Elizaveta, Logan, Tim and Young Soo, and on the other Gilbert, Ludwig, Antonio and Fausto. And nobody as guardian. But at least the public was happy to see some football after so many shenanigans so nobody complained about the teams sizes. The players put on their numbered vests, the chronometer was started and the game began.

The score was almost a tie. They had excellent players in the club and nobody could surpass the others when it came to competitiveness. Or distraction techniques. For example Gilbert who would yell “I’M SO AWESOOOOOME” whenever he had the ball, and Young Soo who would grab every adverse boobs he could get his hands on and danced “gagman style” at every goal his team made. In the end, the germano-hispanic team won by chance when Gilbert managed kick the ball away from the goals and in the adversary one at the last second.

The whole school clapped when the teams shook hands. However, the albino did feel his fingers crack when Elizaveta grasped them. The Hungarian girl was miles away from enjoying defeat.

The swimming club’s relay race was a lot shorter. Two teams of three students were fighting to see who would do six lengths first. And the best swimmers were obviously Elizaveta and Logan who didn’t just give everything they got during the football game, but also truly made the competition spectacular.

Everything was done under the cheers of Rachelle, the team captain, a pretty little brunet with pigtails and tan skin, who categorically refused to put a foot in the water despite her role. And nobody knew why, except for the club members who had promised to keep it that way. That didn’t keep her from making heads turn in the room. Nobody was even asking how she became the club’s captain without ever swimming.

Tino, sitting in the second row between Berwald and Peter, leaned towards the younger boy to comment on the swimmers’ performance. Worried about the lack of response, he turned to him and smiled fondly at how Peter didn’t watch the race as much as he watched pretty Rachelle…

Lovino didn’t want to go to the auditorium to see the music club’s performance. Why? Because he was sick of everything. Really…

He was put to sleep by the narcoleptic guy. Okay.

His twin managed to go on without him and probably go find that fucking potato bastard even though he had come along for the sole purpose of him not meeting him. Not okay.

Plus, because of this dumb forced nap, he had woken up alone in the philosophy room, in the afternoon, with a note from Antonio saying “We’re at the game. Come and see us when you wake up!”, and signed with a smiling tomato.

So he was starving, alone, and didn’t want to go watch a game, or the music club’s show at the auditorium because looking at the time, the game had probably been over for a while…

Frowning, he got up and decided to go to the kitchen, to see if he could sneak out something to eat before dinner. He just hoped the cooking club had fucked off, especially the blond guy. That dude made him sick. If Lovino ever managed to be alone in a room with him, he would probably escape through the floor.

Walking down the hallway, he noticed the music room’s lights were on while everyone was supposed to be at the concert. Curiously, he peeked through the half-open door. The room as empty, some idiot probably forgot to turn the lights off. But he didn’t leave.

He looked left and right in the corridor to make sure nobody was around, then came in, feeling safer. The music room was quite large, with many storing units for the instruments. A large centimeters-tall platform was set before a dozen rostrum chairs. In a corner, a laptop was on and connected to two speakers, as well as several microphones, ready to be used.

Lovino thought in a hurry. Usually, the music room was always occupied by the students, or the music club. Unless there was a concert, like today. This was an opportunity that wouldn’t present itself very often.

He again made sure that nobody, NOBODY, was in the corridor at the moment, and carefully closed the door. Then, he silent sat at the computer and looked around for a bit. There were many songs in instrumental versions so that the musicians didn’t have to learn a new song every time someone felt like singing. There were all sorts of it, even from musicals or cartoons. Lovino waited for a second, hearing around for someone who walk in the corridor at that moment. Then he started a song he knew and ran to stand at the mics.

“Uno, due, tre…” he muttered. A south-american sounding melody flooded the room, slightly too loud for his taste but he didn’t want to go and find out how to lower the volume. He started to sing, feeling more confident as the lyrics ran smoothly from his mouth.

“Non sono proprio adatto io

Adiventar un nuovo dio

Non assomiglio neanche a un cherubin...”

A smile formed on his face. Lovino loved to sing. And he wasn’t bad at it. At least, he wanted to believe that. But he wasn’t stupid to the point where he couldn’t realize Feliciano, that adorable little angel everybody loved despite his happy ass face, was once again a lot better than him in that regard.

“Ora loro sono qui

In ginocchio, e per chi?

Non puo certo andar meglio di cosi...”

You just had to hear him sing a solo during miss Jones’ class. He had a light, effeminate voice that fit almost every song, soft and happy, or melancholic and sad. He was ashamed when he had to sing after him.

“Più di cosi più di cosi più di cosi...

OH MIO DIO!

E' duro fare il dio

Osannato dal corteo

E questa è la loro verità.”

He did not care anyway. Singing was for girls. Even if he liked it, he didn’t want people to hear it, it would be humiliating. No, if he had to sing, it was to himself.

“Una vera devozione

E non finisce qua

E' piuttosto imbarazzante

Questa mia notorietà

Non posso rifutare

Devo proprio accettare

Se mi dicono sei un dio

Io lo saro!”

He sung the rest of the song, trying not to think about his brother. He rarely let himself enjoy things and it was already embarrassing enough without a public, he wasn’t going to imagine himself in competition against the little marshmallow traitor he called his twin. When the music ended in a deafening roar of trumpets and drums, he went and set the laptop just the way he found it, bumping the microphones on the way. Nobody should know what he had d…

Elizaveta slightly waved at him from the room’s door. Behind her, Roderich was absent-mindedly cleaning his glasses. Lovino blushed violently, so mortified he couldn’t even try to think of an excuse. He just stood there, perfectly still, cheeks redder by the second. One might have wondered if he was still breathing. Worried, Elizaveta wanted to comfort him. “Don’t worry, you have a beautiful singing voice, you know that?”

Lovino immediately went from scarlet to burgundy and ran away, bumping into the two spies who had just come pick up a violin bow for the concert.

Elizaveta had a small smile and looked down at her phone. Roderich went to get his precious little bow and glanced at the screen his girlfriend was watching. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, reprovingly.

“I could need it, someday,” she quickly answered, putting the small device away.

The Austrian boy knew there was no talking her out of that kind of project. So he just took her hand and led her towards the auditorium.

#my work #fanfiction #hetalia axis powers #Crazy School #sufin #gerita #seachelles #aushun

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literal-fand0m-trash · 8 years ago

Text

Psychic Wars Part 5. Bloodlust Part 2

Note: I do not own any of the Supernatural characters or stories, but I do own Dakota Winchester. Please leave comments and let me know if you want to be tagged.

Summary: Sequel to Dakota Elizabeth Winchester

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Dakota sat at the desk in the motel room on full alert. Sam had gone outside to get a soda and she could feel very strong feelings of nervousness, anger, and fear lurking just outside. She had her knife drawn as she sat, waiting for her twin to show back up. When he finally did open the door it was only a moment before two figures rushed into the room.

Dakota sprang up from her seat and swung the knife at the man who charged her, but he quickly dodged it wrapping her in a choke hold. She threw her elbow back into his stomach causing his grip to loosen, allowing her to get free as footsteps approached her from behind. Before she could turn to face her attacker, something hit her over the head and the world went dark.

……….

When Dakota woke up, she couldn’t see anything, but judging from how hot her face was and how she could feel her breath, she would guess it was because there was a bag over her head. She tried to move her arms and found that they were tied behind her, as well as her legs being tied to the legs of the chair she was sitting on.

Light flooded her vision as the bag was ripped off and one of the men who had been in their motel room stood in front of her. She looked around for Sam, but didn’t see him. She opened her mouth to yell out for her brother and only then realized that there was a gag in her mouth as well.

She glared at the man as fangs descended and he started stalking towards her, “Step back, Eli.” A voice commanded.

Dakota turned her head to look and saw a woman leaning on the door frame looking into the room and saw that Sam was tied up and conscious in the other room. The man took a step back, still baring his fangs at her.

“My name’s Lenore. I’m not gonna hurt you. We just need to talk.” The woman said ripping the gag out of Dakota’s mouth.

She licked her lips before she spat at her captives, “Talk? Okay. But I might have a tough time paying attention to much besides Eli’s teeth.”

Lenore turned and nodded at Eli who went into the other room and dragged Sam’s chair, dragging him into the room and pulling his gag out.

“You okay, Sammy?” Dakota asked and he nodded.

“He won’t hurt you, and neither will I. You have my word.” Lenore promised.

“Your word? Oh, yeah, great, thanks.” Sam sassed.

“Lady, no offense, but you’re not the first vampire we’ve met.” Dakota added. “Wait! Aren’t you the bartender?” She asked nodding towards Eli.

Lenore ignored her, put her hands on her hip, ‘We’re not like the others. We don’t kill humans, and we don’t drink their blood. We haven’t for a long time.”

“Is this some joke?” Sam asked.

“Notice, you’re both still alive.” Lenore snapped.

“Okay...correct me if I’m wrong here, but shouldn’t you be starving to death?” Dakota asked.

“We found other ways. Cattle blood.” Lenore explained.

“You’re telling us that you’re responsible for all the…” Sam started.

“It’s not ideal. In fact, it’s disgusting. But it allows us to get by.” Lenore said.

“Why?” Dakota and Sam asked at the same time.

“Survival. No deaths, no missing locals, no reason for people like you to come looking for people like us. And we blend in. Our kind is practically extinct. It turns out, we weren’t as high up on the food chain as we imagined.” Lenore said.

“Why are we explaining ourselves to these killers?” Eli growled, “We choke on cow’s blood so that none of them suffer. Tonight, they murdered Conrad and they celebrated.”

“Eli, that’s enough.” Lenore commanded.

“Yeah, Eli, that’s enough.” Dakota sassed and Sam rolle his eyes.

“What’s done is done.” Lenore said to Eli before turning back to them, “We’re leaving town tonight.”

“Then we did you bring us here? Why are you even talking to us?” Sam asked.

“Believe me, I’d rather not. But I know your kind, once you have the scent, you’ll keep tracking us. It doesn’t matter where we go. Hunters will find us.” Lenore said.

“So, you’re asking us not to follow you?” Dakota summarized.

“We have a right to live. We’re not hurting anyone.” Lenore begged.

“Right, so you keep saying. Give me one good reason why we should believe you.” Sam said.

Lenore walked over to Dakota’s chair and leaned down to look at her in the face, the two staring at each other until Dakota felt a knife at her wrist and suddenly she was free. Lenore processed to free her ankles, then moved on to Sam.

“Take them back. Not a mark on them.” Lenore ordered looking over to Eli. Another man walked into the room and slipped a bag over Sam’s head as Eli covered Dakota’s. Dakota wondered where Dean was and if he was looking for them.

……….

Dakota and Sam walked into the motel room once they were released in the parking lot and saw Dean and Gordon sitting at the table, looking over a map.

“Hey! Where have you guys been?” Dean asked as if they hadn’t been missing for an hour.

“Can we talk to you alone?” Sam asked.

“You mind chilling out for a couple of minutes?” Dean asked Gordon who nodded.

Once they were outside Dean grabbed Dakota’s shoulder, “You okay Baby Girl, you’re shaking.” he said and Dakota looked down to see that her hands were twitching around without her control.

“Maybe we should rethink this hunt.” Sam suggested.

“What are you talking about? Where were you?” Dean asked.

“In the nest.” Dakota said as the three started walking through the parking lot.

“You found it!?” Dean asked.

“They found us.” Sam corrected.

“How did you guys get out? How many did you kill?” Dean asked.

“None.” Dakota said.

“Kota, they didn’t just let you go.” Dean said.

“That’s exactly what they did.” Sam said.

“Alright, well, where is it?” Dean asked.

Dakota stopped walking, “I don’t know. I was blindfolded the whole time.”

“You got to know something.” Dean said.

“We went over that bridge outside of town, but we shouldn’t go after them.” Sam said.

Dean looked at them like they were crazy, “Why not?”

“They aren’t like other vampires. I don’t think they kill people.” Sam said.

“You’re joking. How do they stay alive, or undead, or whatever the Hell they are?” Dean asked.

“The cattle mutilations. They said they live off the animal blood. That they have for a long time. Dean, I know you think we’re crazy, but look at us. They let both of us go without a scratch.” Dakota said.

“No. No way, guys. I don’t know why they let you go. I don’t really care. We find them and we waste them.” Dean said.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“What part of vampires do you two not understand? If it’s supernatural, we kill it, that’s our job.” Dean explained.

“Our job is to hunt down evil. They aren’t evil! Why are we going to kill these people who aren’t hurting anyone?” Dakta asked.

“Not you too, Kota.” Dean groaned, “Of course, they’re killing people. That’s what they do. They’re all the same. They’re not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them.” Dakota ran her hands over her face as Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and Dean crossed his arms.

“No, Dean, I don’t think so. Not this time!” Sam said.

“Gordon’s been on those vamps for a year, he knows.” Dean said pointing at the motel.

“Gordon? You’re taking his word? I’ve been getting all sorts of bad vibes from him and Ellen says he dangerous. I don’t trust a damn thing that comes out of Gordon’ mouth!” Dakota snapped.

“You called Ellen? And I’m suppose to listen to her? I barely know her. No thanks, I’ll go with Gordon.” Dean said.

“Yeah? Well, I’ve known Ellen for ten years and my empathy doesn’t start hurting me and giving me headaches when I’m around her. I get nothing, but danger and pain from Gordon!” Dakota said.

“I don’t think you see what this is.” Sam said.

“Oh? And what is this?” Dean sassed.

“This is a substitute for Dad. A poor one at that.” Sam said.

Dean shook his head and tried to laugh it off, turning away, “Shut up, Sam.”

“He’s not close, Dean, not even on his best day. You slap on this fake smile, but I can see right through it, ‘cause I know how you feel. Dad’s dead, and he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can’t take it. But you can’t fill that hole with whoever you want to. It’s an insult to his memory.” Sam finished. Dakota stood frozen to the spot ready for Dean or Sam to lose it and started throwing punches.

“Okay.” Dean smirked before pulling his fist back and nailing Sam on the left side of his face. Dakota caught him as he stumbled backwards and turned to Dean who had started walking away and kicked him in the back on the knee, sending him sprawling to the ground for a moment.

“Knock it off!” She screamed. “Y’all can hit each other all you want, but it’s not going to change anything. Let’s deal with the problem at hand.”

“I’m going to that nest, You two don’t want to tell me where it is? Fine. I’ll find it myself.” Dean said getting off the ground and walking to the motel room with Sam right on his heels. Dakota leaned against the Impala and took a few deep breaths.

Sam and Dean stored out of the room a moment later and stalked towards the car. As Dean threw the front door open and slammed it behind him Dakota shot a questioning look at Sam.

“Gordon took off and took the Impala keys with him.” Sam explained as he got in the car. Dakota climbed in the back and listened to Dean grumbled about having to ruin Baby right after fixing her, but the engine finally turned over.

“So, the bridge, is that all you got?” Dean asked.

“The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm.” Dakota said as Sam pulled out a map.

“How do you know that?” Dean asked.

“I counted.” Dakota answered.

“We took a left out of the farm, turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for for about two minutes uphill, then took another quick right, and we hit the bridge.” Dakota said as Sam traced the path on the map.

“You’re good. You’re a monster pain in the ass, but you’re good.” Dean said.

“Thank you.” Dakota puffed out her chest.

……….

They pulled up in front of the farm house and saw that there was a truck outside that was in the process of being loaded. They quietly walked into the room where Sam had been held and heard cries and saw Lenore tied to a chair with Gordon cutting her up with a knife.

“Gordon, what’s going on?” Dean asked.

“Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man’s blood. She’s gonna tell us where her friends are, aren’t you? Want to help?” Gordon asked. Dean looked nervously over at Sam and Dakota before cautiously stepping forward.

“Look man…” Dean started.

“Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers.” Gordon encouraged.

Dakota now realised what Ellen meant when she compared Gordon to Hannibal Lecter. This man was crazy. She watched as Lenore slumped forward as far as her restraints would allow.

“Woah, woah, woah, let’s just chill out.” Dean said.

“I’m completely chill.” Gordon said.

“Gordon, put the knife down.” Sam said.

“It sounds like it’s Sam that needs to chill.” Gordon said.

“Just step away from here, alright?” Dakota said holding her hands up in hands up in defense.

Gordon looked at Lenore then put the knife down on the table and started digging through his bag.

“You’re right, this bitch will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery. I just sharpened it, it’s completely humane.” He sassed Dakota and Sam pulling a machete out.

“Gordon, I’m letting her go.” Sam said walking over to lenore.

“You’re not doing a damn thing.” Gordon said turning the knife on him and Dakota stepped up to him.

“Gordon, let’s talk about this.” Dean said.

“What’s there to talk about? It’s like I said, Dean, no shades of grey.” Gordon said.

“Yeah, I hear ya. And I know how you feel.” Dean said. “The vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but…”

Dakota looked over at Dean in confusion, but Gordon continued talking.

“Killed my sister. That filthy fang didn’t kill my sister. It turned her, made her into one of them. So I hunted her down and killed her myself.” Gordon explained.

“...You did what?” Dean asked in complete shock and Dakota noticed that his face had paled.

“It wasn’t my little sister anymore. It wasn’t human. I didn’t blink and neither would you.” Gordon said shooting a look at Dakota. She felt pressure on her hand and looked down to see that Sam had a white knuckle hold on her hand.

“So you knew all along, then. You knew the vampires weren’t killing anyone. You knew it was about the cattle and you just didn’t care.” Sam said

“Care about what?” Gordon asked, “A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice, taking a little time out from sucking innocent people, and we’re suppose to buy that? Trust me, it doesn’t change what they are. And I can prove it.” He lunged forward and grabbed Dakota, wrapping his arm around her neck and pushing on her windpipe with a knife.

Both her brothers pulled out guns and trained it on Gordon, “Let her go.” Dean said.

“Relax, if I wanted to kill her she’d already be on the floor. Just making a point.” Gordon said.

He moved the knife and dragged it over Dakota’s forearm and holding the bleeding cut over Lenore.

Gordon squeezed her arm, causing her cut to drip a few splashes of blood on Lenore’s face. Dakota looked down as the woman growled and her fangs began to come out.

“Think she’s so different? Still want to save her? Look at her! They’re all the same, evil, bloodthirsty.” Gordon said as all eyes trained on Lenore as she hissed and strained against her bonds.

Dakota watched in shock as Lenore retracted her fangs and started muttering “no” over and over again.

“You hear her, Gordon?” Dakota asked. He looked at her then released her, shoving her into Dean who immediately tucked her behind him.

“We’re done here.” Sam said as he untied Lenore and cradled her in his arms.

Gordon tired to step forward, but Dean stopped him, “Gordon, I think you and I have got some things to talk about. Sammy, take them outside.” Dean instructed. Sam started walking out with lenore in his arms and Dakota followed closely behind. She rushed to the car and grabbed the first aid kit so they could stitch her up.

“Would you mind standing back?” Lenore whispered staring at Dakota’s arm. She looked down in confusion then realized that standing around a vampire with a bleeding cut wasn’t such a good idea.

“Sure. Sam, can you hand me some gauze and tape?” She asked and Sam tossed her the material. She walked over to the front steps of the house and started patching herself up. Fifteen minutes later Dean came out of the house and walked over to Dakota. She stood up as Dean wrapped her in a hug, holding her as tight as possible, until she felt someone grab her front behind and released she was now in a group hug with her brothers.

……….

Sam and Dakota went and dropped the vampires off far away and made sure to cover their tracks before returning to the farm house where Dean was keeping Gordon tied up.

“Did we miss anything?” Sam asked as they walked in.

“Not much. Did Lenore get out okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, all of them did. Every single vampire.” Dakota smirked.

“Then I guess our work here is done.” Dean shrugged. “How ya doing, Gordie? Got to tinkle yet. Well, get comfy, we’ll call someone in two or three days, have someone untie you.

“You guys ready to go?” Sam asked.

“Not quite yet.” Dakota said. She walked in front of Gordon’s chair and stared at him for a moment before pulling her fist back and hitting him square in the jaw, “Okay, I’m good now. We can go.”

Sam chuckled as they walked out of the house and into the early morning sun.

“Hey Sam. clock me one.” Dean said jumping on his toes.

“What?” Sam asked.

“I won’t even hit you back. Come on.” Dean promised.

“No.” Sam said.

“Let’s go! You get a freebie.” Dean said.

“Not to interpret Fight Club, but I haven’t slept and Dean, you look like you went twelve rounds with a block of cement.” Dakota said.

“I’ll take a rain check on that though.” Sam promised.

“I wish we never took this job. It just jacked everything up.” Dean said walking to the car.

“What do you mean?” Dakota asked.

“Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, Kota, our whole lives. What if we killed things that didn’t deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us.” Dean said.

“Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could.” Sam said.

“I know he did. But maybe he wasn’t perfect.And the way he raised us to hate those things and, man, I hate them. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn’t even think about it. Hell, I even enjoyed it.” Dean explained.

“You didn’t kill Lenore.” Sam said.

“No, but every instinct told me to.” Dean said, “I was gonna kill her. I was going to kill them all.” Dean argued.

“But you didn’t, and that’s what matters.” Dakota pointed out.

“Yeah…’cause you two are a pain in my ass.” Dean joked.

“Well, guess we’ll just have to stick around to be pains in the ass then.” Sam said.

Dean smiled, “Thanks.”

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@one-giggling-unic0rn @skeletoresinthebasement

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