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gingerlee-holds · 1 year ago

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Chapter Two: Rest Assured

Here's the second chapter of my ongoing fic titled 'Wake Up, Keidima!', a MHA alternate universe where an OC of mine ends up in Class 1-A. If you'll allow me to winge a bit - in the dub (which I watch), the names of all the students have been flipped. You see, Japanese naming conventions go like (Family Name) (Given Name), whereas in the West, it's the opposite. In the dub of MHA, they flipped the names to make it make sense for a Western Audience™ (Iida Tenya became Tenya Iida, for instance). This is very enfuriating, because I've named my OC Eivi Keidima (Family name Given name), while all the other characters are (Given name, Family name) as in the show. This really bugs me but whatever. Just keep that in mind going forward, alright? Keidima's name is the Japanese version (it's too late to change it now) and everyone else has the English version. Okay? Okay, now onto the fic:

Word Count: 6239

"You... did what?" the old man grumbled, adjusting his hearing aid.

Jodonaki cleared his throat and spoke up for his sister. "She got into UA, Grandpa!"

"Oh, UA! I'm so proud of you, sweetie! Mazel Tov!" Grandpa Eivi Gadazi furrowed his brow and stared into the middle distance. "What's UA again?"

The twins sighed, smiling. "All Might's alma mater," Keidima said. After getting the letter, the siblings ran to tell their only legal guardian as fast as possible.

"Oh, All Might! That newbie-" Grandpa Gadazi scowled and spat, "I used to be a pro hero, y'know! They don't make heroes like they used to! Why, in my day, I'd be able to defeat All Might in combat with my pinkie finger!"

By that point, the twins were giggling behind their hands. "I-Ihi'm sure you could, Grandpa!" Jodonaki managed to say.

Grandpa Gadazi was a short man and ancient by all accounts. His bald head, once full of curly orange hair, was covered in liver spots, and his whole face sagged with wrinkles. Despite this, he was quick with a witty retort and had an endearing proclivity to wax nostalgic about the 'Good Ole Days' where he was one of the top ten Pro Heroes (the number would change every time he told the story, however). Nevertheless, the money he made as a hero kept the lights on. He wore a white button-up shirt and a pair of brown pants secured way too high on his torso with a black belt. His shoes had been custom-made for one to be higher off the ground than the other because he had gotten into a fight with a villain a few decades prior, necessitating an emergency hip surgery, making one leg permanently longer. He couldn't possibly care for himself, needing his grandson to ensure he was adequately fed and dressed.

As it turns out, Jodonaki never bothered applying to a high school. He had said it was because he already knew how to use his quirk and knew everything he needed to know about the world, but Keidima understood that he needed to stay home to take care of Grandpa Gadazi's failing health. She also understood, using that premonition all twins develop toward each other, that he was deeply disappointed with his lot in life, but he hid it from his sister.

"Y'know, your grandmother had an incredible quirk," the old man leaned back in his rocking chair, smiling into the middle distance. The twins looked at each other, and Jodonaki smiled as he got up.

"I'm gonna make him some soup," he whispered as he left the room.

"She always beat me in a fight, the old bobcat! And believe you me, my pride was on the line, so I wasn't going easy on her!" Grandpa Gadazi's eyes came back into focus. "I always knew you'd follow in her footsteps. She had chutzpah. Have I ever told you how much you look like her?"

"Only all the time, Grandpa."

"Hm, yes, I must have told you before. Sorry, Keidi-cat, my memory isn't as it used to be."

"I know, Grandpa," she said with a smirk.

Gadazi huffed and leaned forward, looking Keidima dead in the eyes. "Being a hero is serious business, young lady. Your grandmother died saving my life, leaving me to raise your father alone. He was a hero, too, as was your mother. They never even survived long enough to go on their honeymoon!"

Keidima winced and looked down at the ground, and Grandpa Gadazi leaned back in his chair again.

"I'm not telling you all this to scare you, Keidi-cat. I need you to understand what's at stake when you go out there to fight villainy. You not only endanger yourself but also your friends and your loved ones. Whole future generations will be affected by the choices you make today." He looked over at the rocking chair next to his, which was always empty, and with a shaking hand, gently rubbed its armrest. "Don't forget who you're fighting for, alright, young lady?"

Keidima looked up into his face and saw the old man tearing up. She extended a hand to his knee and nodded with determination. "I won't, Grandpa. I promise."

Jodonaki returned with a bowl of ramen and a pair of Gadazi's favorite chopsticks. "Sorry, it seems like someone-" he glared at Keidima playfully, "has eaten all the soup! So I just made you some ramen, Grandpa."

"Oh, splendid! Spectacular day!" The old man's countenance instantly lit up as he gratefully took the bowl and chopsticks, and Jodonaki retook his spot on the carpet next to his sister. "So, Keidima! What kind of hero do you want to be?"

"What do you mean?"

Grandpa Gadazi was shoveling noodles into his gumless mouth as if he hadn't eaten a meal since '75. "I mean," more loud slurping, "do you wanna be a hero that goes in guns blazing? Do you wanna be like your old man here?" He thumped his chest proudly before choking on a noodle. Jodonaki jumped up and began hitting his back as Keidima looked down at the carpet, thinking about her answer.

"Wehell? Don't keep me waiting, Keidi-cat. I'm on the edge of my seat here!" Grandpa Gadazi coughed up the noodle but wasted no time in continuing to eat. Instead of sitting down again, Jodonaki decided it'd be better to stay standing in case anything else happened, and he looked down at his sister curiously.

"I just want to be a hero that people feel safe around. I want to be strong and fearless, but more than anything, I want to be a presence that people are comforted by. I want to be like a warm blanket, protecting people from the biting cold of a hostile world and bringing peace to the hearts of those I defend. Villains have gotten more insidious as time goes on, which leads to heroes needing to resort to more drastic measures to maintain justice in our society. The world is harsh and scary, and I want to comfort those who trust me." Keidima looked up and smiled at her two listeners. "Like you!"

Jodonaki smiled as Grandpa Gadazi clapped enthusiastically. "Bravo, Keidi-cat! What a speech!" He leaned forward with a chuckle. "Just be sure not to use that quirk of yours to get out of family gatherings, eh?"

The trio giggled, and the old man handed his empty bowl to his grandson. "Delicious, as usual!" Gadazi exclaimed, and Jodonaki patted his grandfather on the head as he left the room again to do the dishes. His expression quickly changed as he began getting up from his chair, fishing for his cane on the floor, which Keidima handed him. Grandpa Gadazi motioned for her to follow him, and he walked over to his bureau, pulling out a drawer and opening a secret compartment within. He drew a small wooden box out of this compartment and blew the dust off it.

"Here, sit down, Grandpa." Keidima patted the bed, and Grandpa Gadazi grunted in agreement. They sat together, and the young girl looked eagerly at the box as her grandfather slowly opened it, revealing a small, steel wristband. He smiled wide and tried to pick it up but yelped and pulled his hand back suddenly upon touching it. "Woah, are you okay, Grandpa?"

"Yes, yes, Keidi-cat, I'm alright. This wristband belonged to your grandmother. She had a fire-based quirk, you know. Here, feel."

Keidima laid her hand on the metal, gasping and shuddering. "I-it's warm!"

"For you? That's interesting. It's always been scalding whenever I hold it. Feels like I'm touching a steam iron. But you say it's warm..." Grandpa Gadazi hummed in thought and finally handed her the box. "Here, put it on."

The young girl picked up the band and clipped it around her right wrist. The metal was warm, but it reminded her of sitting next to a roaring fireplace, soothing and cozy.

"How does it feel?"

"Comforting."

"Then..." Grandpa Gadazi smiled and stroked a lock of bright red hair out of Keidima's face, "I believe you were meant to have it. You carry her with you now." He looked deep into his granddaughter's face. "You look... so much like her, you know."

Keidima smiled wide and held the bracelet, feeling its warmth. "Thank you, Grandpa. I'll make her proud."

"I believe you already have, young lady." Suddenly, the old man winced and put a hand over his abdomen. "I just... hope I'll still be here to see you become a top hero, just like your grandmother."

"And you?"

"Yeah, yeah, me as well. But I know you'll be so much better than me. I see it in your eyes. It's the same fire that your grandmother had."

"Thank you, Grandpa. I know I won't fail you."

"Oh, so do I!" Grandpa Gadazi laid back on the bed, making all sorts of grunting noises as he arranged himself. He didn't need Keidima's quirk to instantly fall asleep, snoring loudly.

Keidima patted his head as she stood. Looking down at her wrist, the bright, shiny steel made her smile. "I won't let you down. None of you."

"Costumes!"

Keidima let out a yelp, jarring her from her daydreaming. She refused to admit she had almost fallen asleep at the kitchen table. "W-whahat about costumes?" she asked.

Jodonaki gave her a funny look. "Uh, you need one, obviously! A hero costume! See, I went to the Town Hall and got you some paperwork for it."

"A hero costume? I hadn't thought about it..."

She scratched her head. "Honestly, I wasn't planning on having a hero costume."

"What! Nonsense! You need a costume, Bedhead!"

"Fine, fine, if it'll make you happy." Keidima pulled the small stack of papers towards her side of the table and began to fill out her basic information. "How tall am I now?"

Jodonaki studied her a bit. "Few inches taller than me, so... 5'10"? Ballpark?"

"Sure, we'll go with that, Jodo," she yawned.

Her brother was practically bouncing in his seat. "I can't believe it! It's really happening. You're becoming a hero, and you're getting a costume!"

"You're right. It is certainly hard to believe..." She chuckled at Jodonaki's enthusiasm. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little excited."

Finally, they turned the page and got to the design section.

She hummed in thought as she nibbled the end of her pencil. "Let's see... Are there any special concerns we need to consider for this?"

"Well, to activate your quirk, you just have to focus on something really hard, right?"

"Yeah, but visual and tactile contact help a bunch."

"How about a mask that looks like a sleep mask? I think it'd match the aesthetic."

"Then I'd need holes cut into them, maybe glass put in. Not a bad idea." Keidima began writing down their ideas, sketching the mask. "Okay, what else?"

"Gloves, maybe?"

"They'd have to be fingerless, but yes, good idea." They looked at everything they had so far. Then, Keidima began writing something down.

Jodonaki looked up at his sister. "Wait, you're not planning on going into battle in pajamas, are you?"

"It fits the theme! They'll be green, soft, and fuzzy, with little pockets for hiding snacks. Maybe we'll add a fuzzy pink sleeping cap. Yehes!" Keidima wrote faster and faster, giggling a little as it came together. "Ahahand! Ahahand dohohon't fohohorget-!! Dohon't forget the tactical combat bunny slippers!!" Keidima squealed with delight as she laughed at the situation, almost falling off her chair.

"No, don't write that down!"

"I'm writing it down!" She laughed all the harder as she wrote down the idea.

"You're gonna look ridiculous!"

"Maybe that's my strategy, hmmmmm? I wanna throw them off their rhythm!"

"Bedhead!" Jodo exclaimed before falling into another coughing fit. He yanked out his inhaler and breathed deeply.

"Fine, no bunny slippers - I'll write down a pair of combat sneakers. I don't want anything flashy because that's just not what my quirk is like."

"Okay, but I need to insist on at least some level of protection. Some armor, at least some padding."

"Good idea, but we'll keep it minimal." She underlined that word twice on the form. "I want to focus on mobility and dodging, dragging out the fight as much as possible. The longer I make a fight go on, the more likely my quirk will win out. Knee pads, elbow pads, shin guards, and padding in the gloves but all concealed under the outer pajamas. If some mean bastard comes running at me, I want to be able to dodge without hurting myself."

"Also, remember to put your hair up in a ponytail during fights so it doesn't obstruct your vision," Jodonaki said, pointing at the drawn mask. "But what is your signature piece?" he asked.

"My what?"

"Y'know, the thing that every hero has that's unique. It brings the costume together."

Keidima leaned back in her chair. "I have no idea. Maybe a stuffed animal?"

"No, you can't make that a viable tool in combat."

"Not with that attitude."

Jodonaki suppressed the giggle that wanted to come out and said, "What about a capturing weapon? Like Eraserhead uses?"

"Who's that?"

"Never mind, just focus on this. What if you used a blanket like a grappling hook?"

Keidima looked at her brother, thinking it over. "Is there a material that'd be that strong? And I'd have to learn how to use it... But... it'd be better to learn how to use it and have it with me during a fight. I don't exactly have a very combat-oriented quirk. Yeah... yeah, good idea." She drew the blanket, sketching a bright pink crescent moon in the middle. "What do you think?" she asked, handing the form to Jodonaki.

He stared at it before nodding his head. "I think it looks good. Besides, the form says you can alter your costume later." Jodonaki stood, picking up the form and his handbag, gesturing for Keidima to come up. "Let's drop off these forms, then we can get some last-minute back-to-school shopping done!"

Keidima smiled, nodding as she got up. "I also need a refill on my prescription. No way in hell am I going into my first week of UA without them."

The last days of March flew by like a fleeting dream. The beginning of April came quickly, and with it, her first day of school at UA High.

Keidima was ready to go, but Jodonaki insisted on doing his usual series of 'pre-flight checks.'

"Did you take your meds?"

"Yes."

"Did you put on clean socks?"

"Of course I did."

"Did you pack your backpack?"

"No."

"Bedhead."

"Yeah, I packed it. Last night, remember?"

Jodonaki sighed with a smirk as he looked at her hair. "Maybe we should have it be just a little neater."

"Jodo, my boy, you're gonna make the hero-in-training late!" Grandpa Gadazi called from the couch, making her brother grumble.

"I'm just... worried about you, Keidima." He looked at her earnestly, smiling a little. "But, all the same, I need you to know how proud of you I am." His eyes welled up with tears, and Keidima hugged him tightly.

"Save it for when I become a Pro Hero, alright, Jodo?"

He sniffled softly and grinned. "Will do. Now go learn how to save the world!"

"I will!" With that, Keidima turned and ran to UA as fast as she could.

She had found her locker rather quickly and looked down at her information card, then over at her map, trying not to bump into any students. "Class 1-A should be right around... here!"

She looked up right as she bumped into another student. "Sorry, I- Mina? We've gotta stop meeting like this, bestie!"

Mina turned and gasped, hugging Keidima tightly as she pulled her friend into the classroom. "You got in! I'm so friggin proud of you!"

"Same goes for you! I'm so glad I won't be starting with no friends. I have you!"

"And me, I'd hope." From behind Ashido stepped a certain smirking red-haired boy.

"Eijiro!!! I was hoping I'd see you!" Keidima practically jumped at Eijiro Kirishima, hugging him like a koala, which made him yelp as he gently set her down.

"Please go to your seats! The teacher is bound to appear at any moment!" a loud and stiff voice came from behind them. Turning, Keidima saw a tall, thin boy with dark blue hair and square glasses.

She chuckled and nodded, making a little bow. "Yes sir, mister sir!"

"It's Tenya Iida to you!"

She giggled softly as she went to seat #19 in the back of class, much to her delight. "Maybe I could catch some Z's back here without the teacher noticing." Little did she know that she was followed the whole way to her desk by the uptight chatterbox.

"And you don't have your hair brushed! Don't you know what kind of school we're attending? Your tie is crooked! How will this class succeed if we can't properly tie a tie? Look at your posture! You're slouching! And you, will you get your feet off the desk?" Tenya turned and walked over to an ash-blonde boy with his legs crossed over the table.

"Oh, thank goodness he left me alone. That's the same boy I saw from the entrance exam, with all the explosions. At least he's taking up that guy's attention."

Keidima must have looked somewhat shell-shocked after the confrontation and looked over at a tall girl beside her, who had a concerned expression. "Are you alright?" the girl asked.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Nothing I haven't heard before," Keidima giggled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.

The girl extended a hand. "Momo Yaoyorozu."

"Eivi Keidima." She shook the hand gladly and looked up to the door to see the green-haired boy talking with the gravity girl.

"Have you seen the teacher for this class?" Keidima asked.

Momo replied softly, "No, I haven't. Have you?"

"No, I..." Her focus was drawn to a man suddenly appearing in a big, yellow sleeping bag at the doorway.

"Hello, I'm Shota Aizawa. Your teacher."

"You're the man I spoke to on the street the other day when we did the entrance exam!" Keidima couldn't stop herself from blurting out, shooting to her feet. She heard a snicker from her right and saw the blonde-haired boy from before (Denki Kaminari, she soon learned) mouth the words, "he certainly looks like he's been on the street," to Eijiro, eliciting a muffled giggle.

Mr. Aizawa's eyes focused on hers. "Yes, we interacted briefly. Don't speak out of turn, Miss Eivi."

With a squeak, Keidima sat back down at her desk, pursing her lips, and got another empathetic look from Momo. The sleepy girl held onto her bracelet, comforting herself with its warmth.

"Right, let's get to it. Put these on and head outside." Mr. Aizawa held out gym uniforms for them.

"My size is wrong, again." Keidima huffed as she pulled down on her uniform. "This is ridiculous."

Momo and Mina giggled behind their hands as they walked to the grounds together. As the students walked, Keidima made it a goal to know the names of as many others as possible so that she'd be better able to fit in.

Arriving on the field, the students gathered in a crowd before Mr. Aizawa. "Today, you will be undergoing a quirk assessment test."

"What? A quirk assessment test?" the students asked in disbelief.

Uraraka spoke up, saying, "But orientation! We're gonna miss it!" Keidima mumbled in agreement.

"If you really wanna make the big leagues, you can't waste time on pointless ceremonies." Aizawa looked at them all like children, almost scornfully. Keidima gasped softly. She had been a little excited about orientation. "Here at UA, we're not tethered to traditions. That means I get to run my class however I see fit." Keidima gulped. "You've been taking standardized tests most of your lives. But you never got to use your Quirks in physical exams before. The country's still trying to pretend we're all created equal by not letting those with the most power excel. It's not rational. One day, the Ministry of Education will learn."

Keidima looked down. "What a hard-ass... and he seemed so friendly before."

"Bakugo," Mr. Aizawa began again, looking at the ash-blonde boy. "You managed to get the most points on the entrance exam. What was your farthest distance throw with a softball in Junior High?"

Katsuki thought momentarily, then said, "Sixty-four meters, I think."

"Not a bad throw at all. I think I could throw seventy, but that's only because I played softball in middle school."

Mr. Aizawa motioned him to come forward. "Right. Try doing it with your quirk."

Katsuki stepped forward into a circle drawn on the dirt, taking the softball from Mr. Aizawa's hand.

"Anything goes, just stay in the circle. Go on. You're wasting our time."

"All right, man, you asked for it." Katsuki rubbed his shoulder a bit, and suddenly, a massive explosion rang out as he threw the ball as hard as he could. Keidima let out a yelp and clamped a hand over her mouth.

Aizawa didn't even flinch. "All of you need to know your maximum capabilities. It's the most rational way of figuring out your potential as a pro hero." He held up the tracker in his hand, showing the class what it read: '705.2 meters.'

Keidima gasped and nudged Mina. "That's amazing! This'll be fun, using our quirks like this," she whispered, to which her pink friend nodded enthusiastically. All around her, students were saying something similar.

Mr. Aizawa stared at them all disapprovingly. "So this looks fun, huh? You have three years here to become a hero. You think it's all gonna be games and playtime? Idiots," he hissed. "What did he just call me-?" Keidima indignantly thought as she stood up straight. "Today, you'll compete in eight physical tests to gauge your potential. Whoever comes in last has none and will be expelled immediately."

"Huh?" Keidima's eyes bulged out of her head in shock. The other students didn't take it well either.

"Like I said, I get to decide how this class runs. Understand? If that's a problem, you can head home right now." Mr. Aizawa looked around at each student, silently judging their expressions.

"Great... How the hell can I use my quirk to give myself an advantage here? It'd be rude of me to make the others sleepy so that I do better by comparison. I'm just gonna have to rely on my physical abilities... which are lacking."

Ochaco again spoke up. "You can't send one of us home! I mean, we just got here! Even if it wasn't the first day, that isn't fair!" Keidima nodded in agreement.

"Oh, and you think natural disasters are?" Mr. Aizawa asked, making the sleepy hero-in-training tilt her head in confusion. "Or power‐hungry villains? Hm? Or catastrophic accidents that wipe out whole cities? No, the world is full of unfairness. It's a hero's job to try to combat that unfairness. To be a pro, you must push yourself to the brink. For the next three years, UA will throw one terrible hardship after another at you. So, go beyond. Plus Ultra‐style. Show me it's no mistake that you're here."

"I just have to keep up. I'm already pretty spry. I have to land in the middle of the pack. Some of these other kids have quirks that won't help much here, like me. With any luck, I'll end up with some wiggle room."

"Now then. We're just wasting time by talking. Let the games begin."

A fifty-meter dash.

Keidima crouched on the start line and looked over to her left, seeing what appeared to be an empty gym uniform floating in the air. "Hey! Toru Hagakure, right? Or a ghost, maybe?"

The invisible girl giggled. "And you're Keidima, right? What's your quirk again?"

Mr. Aizawa cleared his throat. "Quit wasting time. On your marks..."

"Best of luck, Toru," Keidima prepared to sprint as fast as possible.

"Get set."

"Yeah, you as well! Chat later," Toru said quickly.

A whistle sounded, and both girls flung themselves forward, running as fast as they could, Keidima pulling ahead by a meter. "It's just running two bases. Take first, take second. The ball's in the outfield, but I don't have time to spare. I've run this distance countless times!" With one final push, Keidima sped across the finish line, quickly followed by Toru.

"6.46 seconds! 6.91 seconds!" A cheerful robotic voice said.

Gasping for breath, Keidima skidded to a halt and turned to the invisible girl with a smile. "Not a bad time at all! You're pretty fast!"

"Whew! I wasn't at all ready to be doing this sort of thing today-!" The two girls walked to the side to clear the way for the next pair. "I should be training with you!"

"No, that'd be a terrible idea. I'd just put you to sleep."

"Aw, I'm sure you're not that boring!" She felt Toru give her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"No, I- never mind," Keidima giggled.

Grip strength.

"What does this have to do with your athletic ability?" Mina asked nobody in particular.

Keidima held onto the machine as tight as possible, but to her dismay, it read '48.4 kg,' making the girl sigh in exasperation. "At some point, spite must become a factor when they make these tests."

Standing long jump.

"You ever done one of these, Keidima?" Denki asked, looking behind him in line. Keidima shook her head. "Ah, it's nothin' scary. Just jump!"

"Thanks. I'll try to remember that." Keidima chuckled as she watched the boy jump as far as possible at the whistle. She stepped forward as Denki got off the sand, and when she heard the whistle, she clenched her teeth and jumped.

"195 centimeters!" the peppy bot announced. She quickly got out of the way and felt a gentle elbow in her ribs, making her squeak. Keidima looked up as Eijiro smiled.

"Not a bad distance."

"Compared with everyone else here, it's not great either."

Repeated side steps.

Mr. Aizawa reset the stopwatch. "Go ahead, Miss Eivi."

Keidima grinned, forcing her mind to think optimistically. "This is easy. It's just back and forth but a lot and really quickly."

She ended up tripping at the end, falling onto her face.

The softball throw.

Keidima walked into the circle and clenched the softball hard in her hand. She leaned back, threw it with all the strength she could muster, and immediately leaned back upon hearing something in her shoulder pop. "Ouch. That sucked."

"Little under seventy meters." Mr. Aizawa sounded almost bored.

"Damn. I gotta get back into shape." Keidima continued rubbing her shoulder as she walked back to the other students. After her, the boy with the green hair stepped up.

"If Midoriya doesn't shape up soon, he's the one going home," Tenya observed.

"Huh? Of course, he is. He's a Quirkless loser." Katsuki spat. Keidima looked over at him with one eyebrow raised. "Not only is he mean, he's also wrong. There's no way a kid could get into the hero course without a quirk."

Tenya spoke up for her. "He has a Quirk. Did you not hear about what he did in the entrance exam?"

Izuku stepped forward, held the ball close, and with a face that registered pure determination, he threw the ball as hard as he could.

"Forty-six meters!" the mechanical voice spoke. The boy stood there, frozen.

"Oh no, poor guy..." Keidima mumbled.

Izuku looked at his hands. "What gives? I was trying to use it just now."

"I erased your Quirk." All eyes turned to Mr. Aizawa, whose hair was standing on end. "The judges for this exam were not rational enough. Someone like you should never be allowed to enroll at this school."

"What?" Keidima was about to step forward, but Momo gently squeezed her shoulder, holding her back. Mr. Aizawa paid her no mind.

"Ah! Those goggles. I know you!" Izuku shouted suddenly. "You can look at someone and cancel out their powers. The Erasure Hero. Eraserhead!"

Keidima looked down at the dirt. "Where have I heard that name before...? It's familiar."

Mr. Aizawa's scarf suddenly shot out, latching around Izuku and pulling him close to his teacher. He began talking with the green-headed boy in a low tone but harshly. Keidima couldn't make out what he was saying but could read Izuku's face well enough to know none was kind.

"I've returned your impractical quirk. Take your final throw. Hurry and get it over with." Mr. Aizawa's hair went down again, and his scarf released Izuku.

"I wonder if our teacher gave him some advice," Tenya said softly.

"I hope so." Keidima looked at Izuku, hoping beyond hope that the poor boy wasn't about to be sent home.

Izuku stepped into the circle and threw the ball again. Instead of the wimpy throw like last time, the boy shouted with all his might, and the ball shot away faster than a bullet, making Keidima squeak and jump into Momo.

"Mr. Aizawa... You see?" Izuku clenched his fist, showing a wholly broken finger. "I'm still standing!"

"705.3 meters!" the robot said.

"His finger appears to be broken now. Just like in the exam. This quirk is very odd." Tenya looked deep in thought.

"Maybe it transfers his body into energy? Like using up all the possible energy in his cells?" Keidima asked.

"No, even if that were the case, there shouldn't be a way he could throw a ball that far," Tenya mumbled, furrowing his brow.

Suddenly, next to them, Katsuki ran towards Izuku, screaming, "Deku, you bastard! Tell me how you did that, or you're dead!"

"He's gonna kill him-!" Keidima extended an arm, activating her quirk and focusing as hard as possible. However, Mr. Aizawa's scarf was faster and wrapped around Katsuki in a flash.

"What? Why the hell is your damn scarf so strong?" Katsuki growled.

"Because it's a capture weapon made of carbon fiber and a special metal alloy. Stand down." Mr. Aizawa glared at the boy. "Jodo said that earlier. That's where I remember the name Eraserhead from!" Keidima thought. "It'd be wise to avoid making me use my quirk so much. It gives me serious dry eye," the teacher said. Finally, he released his scarf, but Katsuki slowly sank to the ground, unconscious.

Mr. Aizawa gasped in shock before quickly looking over at Keidima in realization. Her arm was still extended, stretched stiff, and her eyes hadn't blinked or moved from Katsuki.

"Miss Eivi, please, the situation is handled. You're gonna put him in a coma."

Keidima felt a hand on her shoulder and snapped out of her haze. Turning, she saw Mina's nod and slowly lowered her arm, rubbing her eyes and groaning.

"So that's her quirk. I was wondering..." someone off to her right said softly. Mr. Aizawa walked forward and carried the explosive boy back to the group.

"Ribbet, is he dead-?" someone else murmured.

"H-he'll be fine. He's just taking a power nap-!" Keidima stammered, reassuring her classmates. "We all need to take a little rest sometimes." She giggled softly behind her hand, and some of the other students chuckled along with her.

Katsuki let out a little groan as someone nudged him awake. "What-?"

Mr. Aizawa mumbled something to him, and he nodded, rubbing his head. A twinge of fear went through Keidima as she realized he wouldn't be pleased with her for humiliating him in front of his classmates. Then, the teacher stood up and walked to his observation area again.

"You're wasting my time now. Whoever's next can step up."

Izuku ran back into the crowd, and for some reason, Katsuki seemed focused on him and not Keidima. "I wonder why he doesn't seem angry at me? He doesn't seem like the put-together type."

"That's a pretty powerful quirk," Tenya said, looking impressed.

Keidima looked at him but yawned. "No, not yet, it isn't. Lotta drawbacks."

Mr. Aizawa looked at his tablet. "All right, time to give you your results. I've ranked you all from best to worst. You should probably have a good idea of your standing already. I'll pull up the whole list. It's not worth going over each individual's score."

Mina squeezed Keidima's hand gently as they looked at the screen, simultaneously comforting her nerves and keeping her awake. Using her quirk on Katsuki had drained her a lot, and it was all she could do to stay awake for the final three tests. If it weren't for Mina slapping her calves during the sit-up test, she would have passed out. "Isn't my fault it's a good sleeping position."

"Keidima! Look, you got 11th!" Mina shook her, and Keidima jumped up and down in delight.

"Woo! Average!" She hugged her friend tightly and looked back up at the board. "You got ninth!"

"You definitely would have beaten me if you hadn't used your quirk earlier."

"I couldn't help it. My body acted before my brain did."

"And I bet your body was pretty upset with itself after that long-distance run!"

Keidima groaned. "Oh, goodness, don't even talk to me about that." She had thrown up.

Mina pointed back up at the board. "Look, Izuku's last."

Sure enough, in 20th place was Izuku Midoriya. "Oh no, poor kid... He was so determined to do well." Keidima looked at the boy, who seemed to be looking at the ground, close to tears. She wanted to scoop him up in a hug but decided against it.

"And I was lying, no one's going home. That was a rational deception to ensure you gave it your all in the tests."

The whole class gasped, and if Keidima weren't also shocked into disbelief, she would have laughed at their silly expressions.

"That's it. We're done for the day. Pick up a syllabus in the classroom. Read it over before tomorrow morning." Mr. Aizawa walked to Izuku and handed him a slip, saying something to him in a low tone.

Keidima jogged forward and tapped Mr. Aizawa on the shoulder as he walked off. "Sir?"

"Hm? What is it?"

"I'm sorry for using my quirk earlier. It wasn't polite of me to do. I should have trusted you."

"Don't worry about it. I told Mr. Bakugo that he had pinched a nerve struggling against my capturing weapon and passed out. He doesn't expect that you did anything."

"Oh, thank goodness. I was worried I would get my head blown off," Keidima chuckled nervously.

"No, you'll be fine. Just be sure not to use it if you can afford to. It has a pretty big drawback."

"Yeah, I know. Thank you, sir." Keidima looked at the ground, rubbing her arm.

"Oh, and I saw you had asked for a capturing weapon on your hero form. I could teach you how to use it."

Keidima gasped softly as she looked up. "Yes, that'd be amazing!"

Mr. Aizawa grunted, nodded, and walked off.

The young girl turned, seeing Izuku coming toward her. "H-hey, Keidima, right?"

"Mhm! That's me!" she giggled, making Izuku blush. "Oh, he's gonna be so much fun."

The boy rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I just wanted to thank you for, y'know, saving me earlier!"

"Huh? Oh, I didn't save you. Mr. Aizawa did. I just helped." Keidima smiled softly. "But I'm glad I could help."

Izuku blushed deeper at her smile and nodded.

"By the way, I'm relieved you're not being expelled! I was rooting for you the whole time! I'm a sucker for underdogs," she giggled again, making it a personal competition to see how deep the boy's blush could go.

"T-Thank you! Anyways, I gotta go to the nurse now. Bye!" he said quickly, avoiding her eyes as he walked past.

"Izuku!" she called after him, and he turned momentarily. "You're not getting enough sleep!" He chuckled and turned again, walking off.

Keidima went with the rest of the class back to the classroom to change and collect their syllabus. She sighed as she changed out of her gym uniform, hoping that her hero costume, at least, would be the correct size.

She grabbed a syllabus and stuck it in her bag, then began walking out the door if it weren't for a tap on the shoulder. Tenya pulled her aside and bowed stiffly. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior this morning. You have more than proved your worth and did not deserve to be treated so harshly."

"I- thank you, Tenya." Keidima smiled at the kind gesture and gently lifted him out of his bow. "It means a lot."

"Of course. Hopefully, we can be on a good footing from here on out."

"I hope so, too! I'll see you, Tenya!"

Walking out the main doors and down the steps, Keidima grinned as she approached a familiar duo. Mina and Eijiro turned and waved at her as she approached. "We live in about the same part of town. Why don't we walk home together?"

"I don't see why not!"

"Wait!" She turned and saw Denki running up to them. "Don't forget me!"

"We couldn't forget you, bro! C'mon, let's get home."

The four walked home, proud that they had finished their first day with relatively no problems, although Mina had to keep Keidima awake the whole way home. Still, Keidima was glad to have reconnected with old friends and even made some new ones.

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

And there you have it! Chapter 2, done! Lemme know what you think!

Also wowie I wrote so much more for these 1.5 episodes than the first four. Maybe that's because most of the first episodes were focusing on Izuku. No clue. Anyways, there's no way in hell I'll be able to keep this pace up, especially with me going back to school soon, so expect much spottier uploads.

Lemme read Chapter 1! Lemme read Chapter 3! Lemme start at the beginning!

#wake up keidima #kayde wrote something woah #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #fanfiction #oc story #original character #heroes #quirks #ua high #fanfic #anime #manga

18 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Note

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately.

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.”

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment.

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way.

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.”

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie.

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone.

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed.

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island. It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words.

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest.

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face.

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly.

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it.

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 4 years ago

Text

A Fool of Me

A/N: Hey guys! This one’s a request from @peachylemasters. I hope I did it justice, I had to tweak some details to fit the plot but I think I hit all the notes. If you like this and wanna read some more of my stuff check out my Masterlist, or my series, I’m On Fire.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Spencer runs into a toxic ex-girlfriend at an event a kind receptionist saves him from himself.

Category: Equal doses of smut, angst, and fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex, spanking, alcohol consumption, brief descriptions of panic/stress, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 4.7k

Request: “Hey good morning or afternoon I heard you were taking requests. I thought of an idea we're Spencer Reid goes to a party and meets his ex. Things start off smooth and knows if he goes back to her, he will revisited bad and the good moments he had with her. Until a hostess see's Spencer going insane because he's talking to his ex. She helps him out and they start to know each other. Things get out of hands between them. So that was an idea. Don't know if I made it confusing. Have a great day✨❤”

Spencer had had enough socializing for one day. It was enough that he had to attend panels all day, which really, he didn’t mind that part. He just hated having all the conversations afterward.

So his battery was really draining by the time the post-convention event was supposed to take place in the hotel’s ballroom. It was supposed to be a time for all of the people who’d spent the whole weekend working to finally blow off some steam. Have some non-work related conversations.

But Spencer hated parties. He didn’t like being surrounded by so many people, or having to have the same little nothing conversations over and over all evening. At least he was put up in a hotel this time around so he could retreat to the quiet of his room for a little while in the middle of the day, but that could only last so long.

She’s the very first thing he notices as he walks through the doors to the ballroom. Rachel. Perched on a high stool at the bar, hair cascading down her back, in perfect contrast to her dress. It was red and hugged her perfectly, like it always did. He’d seen her in it before a few times, he knew it made her feel confident.

He has no idea if he wants to talk to her, part of him wants to race over and give her his room key without a word. The other wants to turn on his heel immediately and bolt out of there. But he doesn't get to make the decision, she’s spotted him in the doorway and is more sure of herself. Beckoning him over with a wave.

He takes the stool next to her, and already he doesn’t feel great about it. She had this way of bewitching him, over and over he’d end up lying next to her in bed and waking up to an empty space in the morning. They couldn’t seem to keep their distance for very long.

When he sits she’s already ordered him a drink, and it’s his usual, and he hates that she remembered it. Or he hates that he likes the way it makes him feel warm inside. That it wasn’t just him who held onto some of their shared memories. So he takes a sip.

—

It’s been a slow night on the reception desk, so when Y/N sees him walking down the staircase into the lobby she can’t help but gawk. His suit is navy and impeccable, it fits him so snug on the shoulders that it must’ve been made for him. Which is a funny juxtaposition next to his hair which looks like he ran his fingers through it at best, curly, and unruly on top of his head. But it suits him.

She follows him with her eyes from her perch at the desk, watching him until he stops abruptly at the doorway to the ballroom. There’s a swarm of people gathered inside so maybe he was just the kind of person who was nervous around crowds. But that doesn’t feel right, the look on his face is all together terrified until it softens and he walks inside.

She has to move along the desk a little so she can see where he ends up once he makes it inside. And of course he’s next to a woman, a beautiful one too, in a tight dress. So that solves the mystery of why he looked so nervous. But that does little to actually satiate her desire to keep her eyes on him. On them.

Something doesn’t feel right about it, as thought it might not even be a date, like maybe this guy really didn’t want to be there. It must’ve been the way he looked at her, or the way he sat so awkwardly in his seat, his body language betraying him.

—

Spencer lets himself take her in for a moment, his eyes raking up and down her figure as she takes a prolonged sip from her wine glass. She might actually look better than the last time he’d seen her.

It had been a whole year. And they’d already been broken up, and back together, and broken up a few times over at that point. So it really was his fault that it happened again, they’d slept together, and she’d promised him more, and left him again. Like always.

He knew, he really did, deep down he knew she was bad for him. But she was magnetic.

“Do you like my dress Spence?” she asks, sultry and smooth. And she already knows he does, he’s told her before.

“You look very nice” he tries not to give too much away.

“I seem to recall you thinking I looked a hell of a lot more than nice in this dress?” she leans in a little as she speaks and it makes his heart flutter in his chest. But it somehow makes his stomach drop in the same instant. She turns her body towards his completely. Leaning in even closer now, and she puts her hand on his fucking thigh, and for a second he forgets how to breathe entirely.

“As a matter of fact” she coos, “I think I remember you telling me to keep it on while you fucked me, what was it, a year ago now?”

“372 days” is all he can force out. And he wants to lean into her touch, he wants to melt into her, let her do whatever she wants with him for as long as she wants to. But he knows it’ll just break him all over again. He wants to pull away but he just can’t, and he’s absolutely transfixed on her fingers squeezing his leg when they’re interrupted.

“Sorry, are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” the woman enquires, glancing at his little hand written name tag. He just forces a meek nod, “There’s a call for you if you want to follow me?” she motions for him to stand up and so he does, pulling himself from Rachel’s grip.

His immediate feeling is of overwhelming relief. He knew he was out of his depth from the moment he’d sat down. He was silently thankful for whatever case was about to whisk him away from this stupid convention.

He followed behind the woman, she led him out of the ballroom and down a quiet hotel hallway until she just stopped in her tracks in the middle of it, leaning against the wall. He could only look at her confused.

“The uh? The phone?” he tries to ask.

“Sorry,” she forces out a deep breath, “there actually wasn’t any call, I could tell— you looked like you needed some help?” she chances, “I’m really sorry if I overstepped, or misread that”

He lets out a huge sigh of relief, “Oh thank god”

“So I read it right?” she asks, relaxing against the wall now.

“So so right, you’ve got no idea” the relief only lasts for another moment before his eyes blow wide and he starts to pace frantically in the hallway.

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks, trying to decipher his sharp change in mood. He starts to breathe in short panicked bursts and he seems like he’s really about to freak out again. She ushers him to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs that litters the hallway. So he does, and he immediately braces his head between his knees.

“Can I ask what’s wrong? Do you want me to get you some water?” He just shakes his head, his breathing unsteady and ragged, she recognizes it well.

“Spencer” She says it firm and commanding to get his attention, but soft enough not to startle him, “I want you to breathe in through your nose for me, we’re gonna do that for 4 seconds” she counts down for him, “now hold that breath for 7 seconds” she counts again, soft and slow, “then I want you to breathe all of that out through your mouth this time, and we’re gonna do that for 8 seconds.” He sits up straight and nods at her.

She counts out the cycle for him again and again until Spencer can feel his heart rate fall, settling into a steady rhythm of breathing until he feels calm again. And in this state he can finally take a good look at this girl. She’s crouched down next to him as he sits, with one of her hands resting against his knee. And instead of earlier, her hand feels comforting, grounding. It feels nice in an entirely different way than Rachel’s hand.

He looks down at the little gold name tag pinned to the lapel of her dress.

“Thank you Y/N” he says softly, and she smiles up at him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she tries again, gentle, not prying, just hoping.

“I left my jacket in there” he rubs his eyes with his hands like he’s in pain, “It’s got my phone and my wallet, but I can’t go back in there. If I go back she’ll suck me in again and I don’t want— I can’t!” she tries to soothe him, gently moving her hand along his leg.

“Don’t worry about that” she encourages, “Have you got your room key?” He quickly fumbles and pulls it out of the pocket of his slacks, and nods, awaiting further instruction.

“What room are you in?”

“407?”

“Great, you go on up, splash some cold water on your face and relax. I’m going to go get your stuff. I’ll tell that woman that you had an emergency and had to leave. Then I can can bring your jacket up to you. No problem” she says it like it’s obvious, and Spencer can barely contain his relief, all of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Are you sure?” he asks,

“Positive” she confirms with a soft smile and a pat on his shoulder as she stands up.

—

Once Y/N’s confident he’s making his way back up stairs she heads straight to the ballroom. Now that she’s actually about to talk to this woman she’s nervous.

“Sorry ma’am” she starts, and the woman turns to look at her, and she’s so intimidatingly beautiful up this close, “your friend had an emergency and he’s got to leave. He asked me to send you his apologies.” her perfect face falls, unable to hide her disappointment. Y/N takes his jacket off the back of the chair and drapes it over her arm.

“Can you give him a message for me?” the woman asks, gripping Y/N by the elbow just as she makes her move to leave, she nods politely.

“Just tell him that I’ll get him next time” she says it like it’s some inside joke he’ll understand, but Y/N knows what she means and it honestly makes her feel a little sick. As she walks away she’s already decided she’s not going to tell Spencer anything.

—

Spencer’s been pacing around his room for the last 17 minutes. Y/N shouldn’t be taking this long, he wasn’t entirely sure why but he was getting himself worried again, working himself up over nothing. But his body relaxed when he heard a soft knock against the door, he all but sprinted over to open it. To her standing right there, his jacket draped over one arm and a room service platter gripped in her hands.

“Thank you” he exhales, pulling open the door so that she can could walk inside and leave both items down on the bed. He points to the platter, its contents covered by a large silver dome. “What’s…” he’s not really sure what to ask.

“I hope you don’t mind, I stopped by the kitchen on my way up, thought you might like some comfort food?” as she explains she pulls the dome off the tray, showing him the plethora of desert she’d taken from the kitchen.

“There was no need” he starts but she cuts him off.

“Nonsense! The guys in the kitchen don’t mind. If there’s nothing you like here I can have something else sent up?” she says it in a polished ‘customer service voice’, sickly sweet. And all of a sudden he feels a little silly that he hadn’t noticed it sooner. She was just a good employee, going the extra mile for a customer. This wasn’t about him.

“No, god no. You’ve done plenty already, and besides, I’m sure you’ve got to get back to work?” he tries to give her an out as they stand awkwardly looking at each other.

“Actually I’m good, I wont be missed” she begins but stops her train of thought, of course this was overstepping, she was probably freaking him out, “But you probably want to relax, I’ll get out of your hair” she nods politely and starts to make her way back to the door.

“Unless” it rushes out of him and he's not sure where it really came from, “When your shift’s over would you maybe want to— This is an awful lot of food—“ he just gives up on his original sentence and tries it all over again, “When’s your shift over?” her asks plainly and it startles her. But she can’t really do much to contain the grin that spreads across her cheeks.

“What time is it now?” she asks, pointing to the watch on his wrist.

“Uh, 11:43pm?” he offers.

“So 43 minutes ago” she feels silly saying it out loud now. That she’d gotten carried away watching him while she waited for her co-worker to take over the desk, and she just couldn’t stop herself from intervening the second her shift was over. But he doesn’t look freaked out by her admission, he looks genuinely happy for the first time since she’d laid eyes on him.

“You— You’ve been off this whole time?”

She gives him a little nod, bashful, “You looked like you needed help” she shrugs, trying to play it off.

“But I— You should’ve gone home, I would’ve been okay” no sooner does he get the words out than he realizes they’re a blatant lie, “That’s not true” he confesses, “If you’d’ve gone home I’d probably have already made so many stupid decisions by now and I’d be having my heart broken as we speak”

“Would you maybe want me to stay with you for a bit? Just to make sure you don’t go doing anything stupid?” she asks sultry, and it’s the first time she’s overtly flirted all night. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he nods wholeheartedly.

Admittedly he knows that if Y/N stays he’ll probably just make a different kind of stupid mistake, but he can allow himself this one.

“I’d like that a lot”

—

They sit cross legged on his bed for a while, sharing a slice of chocolate cake. Spencer had started trying to explain what his relationship with Rachel had been like but decided against it. She wasn't going to get to ruin any more of this night than she already had. Instead he changes focus in the only way he knows how.

“Did you know that chocolate can actually affect your mood significantly?” he says as she scoops a forkful of cake off the plate between them, “A key chemical in cacao stimulates the brains level of naturally occurring endorphins and increases the production of serotonin?”

She chews thoughtfully for a moment, “So that’s why cake makes me feel so good?” and he giggles, nodding enthusiastically, “Got any more genius?” she asks with a grin.

“Did you know that chocolate contains the amino acid L-arginine which can be an effective natural sex enhancer for both men and women?” he can already feel his face start to flush, why did he start saying this, “It increases nitric oxide and promotes blood flow to the sexual organs” he finishes the thought and feels like crawling in a hole.

She’s got no idea if he’s just passionate about facts and chocolate, or if this is just his version of putting on the moves, but what has she really go to lose here. So she takes the opening.

“You got me.” she says with a coy smile, “That was actually my plan all along, to ply you with chocolate” she scoops some of the chocolate icing from the top of the cake with her fingertip, popping it in-between her lips and sucking it off slowly, deliberately. She looks over at him and his eyes are fixed on her lips and the finger caught between them. When she removes it to talk she feels confident that she’s got his attention now.

“Did it work?” she almost moans it and his breathing pretty much stops.

Working on instinct he moves his body so that he’s right next to her, leaning right in, and he presses his lips to hers. She opens them right away and he can taste the chocolate that’s lingering on her tongue and it’s perfect.

It doesn’t last for long, but when they break apart she picks up the plate between them and places it safely on the nightstand. With the bed clear she sits up on her knees so she can move closer to Spencer, throwing her legs either side of his and straddling his lap. The skirt of her dress hiking up in the process to expose the smooth skin of her thighs.

Spencer’s hands fly straight down to them automatically, digging his nails in and pulling her closer, further up his lap. Her hands end up tangled in that perfectly messy hair of his, making it worse, but even more perfect at the same time.

They stay tangled like that for a while, grinding against one another, mouths moving frantically, hands squeezing, pulling. Desperately seeking contact.

It’s when she can feel him start to get hard beneath her that his mood seems to shift, changing his position so that he can flip her over completely. Laying her flat on her back on the bed, one of his hands pinning both of hers above her head as his other hand moves up the hem of her skirt. Inching further and further until he reached her panties, grazing the damp patch between her thighs.

“Fuck Spencer” she moans out at the contact, encouraging him, and he seems to appreciate it. His mouth attaching to her neck, sucking and biting in an attempt to leave his mark on her.

He lets up a few moments later, releasing her hands mostly so that he could begin to undo the buttons along the front of her dress, taking his time to unfasten each and every one of them so that it would fall open, exposing her to him.

“You’re so beautiful” he moans out, his hands starting to roam along all bare skin he could see. And she could feel every little touch, but she needed to see him, to touch him too. So she sat up as best as she could and began to undo the buttons of Spencer’s dress shirt. With his help they were both lying on the bed together in nothing but their underwear. Lips ferociously working against one another yet again.

“What do you like Spencer?” it comes out as a breathy moan when she can finally remove her lips from his for a second, “What do you want?”

He’s caught of guard by the question, Rachel never cared what he wanted. He looks down at her, the erratic rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips were slick and a little swollen, and the pure kindness behind her eyes. For a second he thought he might be in love already, but he knew that was silly. He had to think for a moment before he found the answer.

“Control” it escapes him before he realizes why. He’s never had it before, not in his love life, not in his sex life. But now, now he feels safe enough to ask.

“You want to be in charge?” she asks and he nods his head in confirmation.

“Okay” she smiles, “So tell me what to do” her eyes lock on his and he swears he can feel his heartbeat all over his entire body.

“Turn over” is the first thing he thinks of, and so she does.

Flipping over beneath him, her face tilted sideways so he can still see her as she lays on her front on top of the crisp white linen. He plants a soft kiss at the base of her neck and slowly snakes down along her spine, coming to a stop around her hips. He places his hands either side of her, gripping her hips with probably more force than necessary.

“Up” it’s just shy of a growl, and she complies, lifting her hips up off the bed, bending her knees beneath her. “No” he breathes out against her ear, “Just your hips” she adjusts her position a little and can hold it just long enough for him to slide one of the fluffy hotel pillows into the gap between her and the bed. Tilting her hips ever so slightly. “Perfect” he groans right against her ear.

He continues to move back down her body, once he reaches the swell of her ass this time though he grabs it roughly, his nails scratching the delicate skin as he paws at her. She can’t keep her moan contained as it rushes out of her.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice absolutely dripping with lust.

“Uh huh” she whines into the pillows. He takes that as a sign of encouragement, taking his hand off her before coming down swiftly on her ass cheek, she could feel the heat of it right away, the sharp sting of pain it left behind felt way better than it had any right to.

“Ah fuck” her moan rips through her without warning, so he does it again, a little harsher this time. And the noise echos throughout the room, followed by the filthiest moan Spencer’s ever heard in his life. It gets a little muffled in the pillows but he can still hear it.

“Harder” she lets out, and it’s such a small little voice.

“What was that Y/N?” he teases, leaning over her grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her face out of the pillows with it.

“Ah, harder, please” she begs this time and it makes him feel so, so good.

He returns to his position behind her again, raising his palm and letting it come down again in the exact same place where a raised handprint was starting to form already. The noises that escape her are pornographic and he had no idea his cock could even be this hard.

He takes some time to remove her panties, hooking his fingers into them on either side and peeling them down along her legs. The first thing he sees is how incredibly wet she is, dripping down the inside of her legs already.

“Oh you really liked that” he teases, “You’re fucking soaking wet from just a little spanking” she whines beneath him.

“Want you so bad” is all she can manage to say. He moves her legs a little further apart fully opening her up to him and he bites his lip at the picture in front of him. Taking two of his fingers he brings them right to her entrance, sinking them in slowly, curving them against her walls as he works in and out of her at an agonizing pace.

“Fuck, Spencer, oh my god” her breathing is frantic already as she squirms from the stimulation.

“Good girl, you think you’re ready to take my cock?” he asks, pushing in a third finger as deep at they’ll go, her back arches into his touch, forcing her ass further up against him.

“Yes, Spencer! Please!” she rasps as he drifts his thumb over her swollen clit.

“Okay baby” he pulls his fingers out of her, leaning forward again he brings his fingers up to her, and hooks them into her mouth, pulling her face up out of the pillows so he can hear her little whines. She sucks on the fingers in her mouth, tasting herself on them and at the same time she can feel Spencer’s cock pressed up against her ass.

Once she lets his fingers go he’s bracing himself above her, an arm either side of her torso, and his legs between hers. He takes some time to line up properly, before teasing at her entrance. When she’s practically begging beneath him he sinks in slowly.

“Spencer” she moans out uncontrollably. He’s not even fully inside of her yet and already she feels full.

“So fucking tight, so wet for me Y/N” he gasps, the feeling of her warm and clenching around him is almost too much. After she’s gotten used to the feeling of him he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust deep and deliberate, hitting right against her walls every single time.

She’s nearly crying at the stimulation, getting fucked into the bed, his cock pushing into her impossibly deep each time, hitting spots she didn’t even know she had. And there’s the added pleasure of the way his hips slam right up against her bruised ass each time he thrusts into her that just makes it all the sweeter.

She can tell he’s getting close now, by the way his movements are growing faster and a little less controlled by the second. But she wasn’t far off either, she couldn’t take much more.

“So close Spencer, feels so fucking good” she mumbles out.

And then the does the unexpected he changes his position, leaning down closer, so he was nearly flush against her back, almost pinning her down with his weight but not quite. The angle he hits her from now is definitely something new, she’s pretty sure he’s hitting right against her g-spot with every motion and she can’t contain herself now.

“Fuck! Spencer! Gonna cum” she’s pretty much screaming into the pillows and he continues to fuck into her. He’s releasing himself a moment later, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as he spills inside of her. Riding it out for another moment to two.

They stay like that for a little while, collapsed in a heap on top of one another, completely spent. When he does pull out he’s so careful, making sure she’s comfortable, racing to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and whatever lotion the hotel had.

He takes some time to clean her up before any of the mess they’ve made can dry between her legs. Then he takes some of the lotion and smooths it gently on the skin of her backside, taking care not to irritate it. He puts on a fresh pair of briefs and grabs her a t-shirt from his suitcase for her to sleep in, and her heart softens at the gesture.

When they both snuggle up under the covers, completely exhausted, she takes him in her arms, cuddling up to his back and spooning him. He needed to feel in control earlier, but she could tell what he needed now was comfort, safety, and reassurance that she wouldn’t be gone in the morning.

“Spencer?” she whispers against his ear,

“Y/N?” he responds in kind.

“Are you free for breakfast tomorrow?” she asks, and he knows she can’t see it with his back turned but he can’t contain the sleepy smile that he breaks out in. He’s only known this girl for a few hours and she was able to read him like a book.

“Absolutely”

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years ago

Text

Raise the Barre (Halloween: Jimin’s POV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: Underage drinking, sexual tension, Y/N’s skirt is short

Word Count: 4,107

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

You were a terrible flip cup player.

This was all Jimin could think while he watched you from across the room, one shoulder leaned against the white, stucco wall. You sat casually on the couch, laughing at something Brian had said – a dead giveaway of inebriation, if Jimin had ever seen one. Humor wasn’t among Brian’s commonly listed attributes.

An unfamiliar tightness spread through his chest while Jimin watched until finally, he forced himself to look away.

There was nothing he needed to worry about with Brian, of course. Brian was hooking up with someone from Redfield and besides, if Jimin needed to worry about anyone, it’d be your boyfriend.

Finn, as you’d said on the drive home from the club.

Just remembering that night made Jimin’s head hurt. It’d been two weeks at this point, but he still could remember it as though it were yesterday. He remembered the tightness in your voice when he’d answered the phone, the panic Jimin had felt driving through the streets of the city, and the immediate relief he’d gotten upon arriving and seeing you in one piece.

And then you’d said the word to him – boyfriend.

Jimin remembered being stunned for a few, eternity-stretching seconds.

He still wasn’t sure how he’d missed such a vital piece of information. For a month prior, his crush on you had been steadily building, which meant Jimin had been oddly attentive to what you were doing. He’d never once seen you duck out of class for a phone call. No one had ever picked you up from the studio, nor had he seen you out on dates around campus.

A few guys had even expressed interest in dating you at the start of the year, but you hadn’t seemed interested, so talk of your relationship status had gradually petered out.

Exhaling gently, Jimin pushed himself from the wall and entered the kitchen. Filling his drink up again, he glanced up when Sabrina walked into the room. Tightly, Jimin smiled.

He and Sabrina had hooked up at the beginning of the semester, which had led to one of the most awkward run-ins of Jimin’s existence. Sabrina had been leaving his room when you decided to arrive, and Jimin had spent the entire encounter wearing his boxers. Which was great. At the time, he’d merely shrugged it off as uncomfortable, but now the memory continued to grate on his conscience.

Sabrina had texted him a few weeks ago, inviting him over but Jimin had declined. He’d told her they were better off as friends, at which point she’d simply decided to ghost him. Jimin hadn’t really cared at the time – it was around then he’d started having feelings for you.

Feelings which turned out to be pointless since you already had a boyfriend.

Gaze lowering, Jimin saw what Sabrina was wearing and couldn’t help it – he laughed. “A ballerina?” he asked, unable to stop himself. “Really?”

Sabrina scowled and poured herself a drink. “A short-notice invitation means you get a short-notice costume. Okay?”

Jimin’s brow furrowed. “Short notice?”

“Yeah.” She paused. “I, uh… wasn’t going to come until yesterday.”

Jimin wisely chose not to comment, shrugging in response as they left the kitchen. In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw you looking at him, but when he glanced up, Jimin saw you stand from the couch. Noelle was calling you over, waving you into another game of flip cup.

Sighing, Jimin set down his newly filled cup. It wasn’t as though you needed a white knight, or anything but someone at this party had to stay sober. It wouldn’t be you if you kept pounding drinks the way you were and so, Jimin relinquished his own.

Frowning in concentration, you set your cup down on the table and attempted to flip. When you succeeded, you cheered and spun around in a circle, causing the end of your skirt to flare up.

Jimin swallowed, hard.

Of all the nights, you’d chosen to dress that way tonight. Truthfully, you wore less clothes to your ballet classes – only a leotard and tights – but Jimin was a professional, and there was nothing sexy about Mr. Vlad shouting corrections at him while sweat dripped into places Jimin thought best not to mention.

Now though, you were wearing the shortest dress Jimin had ever seen and it was making him slowly lose his mind. The flimsy material barely covered the tops of your thighs, which made Jimin want to lift you onto the counter, press his hands into the available skin, push your dress higher and –

Exhaling roughly, Jimin shoved a hand through his hair. He needed to get ahold of himself. It’d been too long since he’d last spoken and now, Sabrina was watching him curiously. Before Jimin could look away, her gaze followed to you.

“Interesting.” Sabrina arched a brow. “Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Jimin muttered.

For a moment, he considered drinking the cup he’d just set down.

Sabrina gave a small laugh but, oddly enough, there was no bite to it. “So, that’s why you said you didn’t want to hook up.”

Jimin gave a small shrug, his right shoulder rising and falling. “That, and other reasons.”

Sabrina nodded. She took a long sip of her drink before she walked off, coming to a stop beside Jasmine across the room.

Jimin was left alone with his thoughts, until Hoseok waved him over to play the next game. Jimin joined, playing with water and by the time Ubers were called for the club, he felt decidedly more sober than an hour prior.

This was in stark contrast to you, who’d apparently decided to leave your coat in Paulo’s apartment. Jimin noticed this as soon as he stepped outside, spotting you shivering as he approached the curb.

“Y/N?” he asked, coming to a stop. “Hey, where’s your coat?”

“Inside,” you said, teeth chattering. “I’m fine, though. I’m fine!”

Eying you suspiciously, Jimin scanned the sidewalk. “Where’s Paulo?” he said. “I’ll grab him, we can get your coat before we go –”

You huffed, an impatient sound as you grabbed his sleeve and dragged him towards the car. “The Uber’s already here, though,” you argued. “I’ll be fine from here to the club!”

If it hadn’t been further to Paulo’s apartment than to the car, Jimin would have protested, but as it was, he simply sighed and followed suit. You pulled open the door to the SUV, clambering inside to sit in the last row. Glancing over his shoulder, Jimin realized Hoseok and Noelle were waiting, which meant he’d need to join you in the back.

Squeezing into the small space beside you, Jimin tried his best to stay separate, but to no avail. The backseat was tiny, and his left knee pressed to yours, fingers fumbling at your side when he buckled his seatbelt.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, squishing further away.

“Jimin.” You arched a brow. “Are we going to go through this again? Your hands have been in way more inappropriate places than that this semester.”

That said, you grabbed hold of the middle seat and hoisted yourself upwards.

Jimin’s mind seemed to short-circuit.

Forget about your teasing tone – now your delectable, barely-clothed ass hovered before his face. As Jimin had previously noted, your dress was very short. The skirt barely covered your panties and from where he was sitting, Jimin could tell they were light blue in color, edged with lace.

Fingers digging into his palms, Jimin forced himself to look away. It’d be a long time before he forgot that particular visual. The car pulled from the curb, making his stomach lurch while he fought to stay in control.

You had a boyfriend, Jimin reminded himself as he stared out the window. You were off-limits, so he needed to stop thinking about you in that way. This could only end badly if it continued, but he still couldn’t keep his disloyal heart from racing.

Plopping down in your seat, you turned sideways to face him. “Um,” you said, seemingly oblivious to Jimin’s inner anguish. “So, what happened to your teeth?”

Jimin forced himself to look sideways. “Casualty of flip cup,” he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster. “One of them fell out during the game and I couldn’t find where it rolled.”

You frowned, seriously considering his predicament and Jimin’s heart did a flip. The most adorable dimple had appeared in your brow and he fervently wished he could smooth it away.

“Well, that’s okay,” you said slowly. “You can just be one of those vampires who blend in with normal humans. You know, the kind whose fangs only come out when they want to bite someone.”

Do you like that? The thought entered Jimin’s mind before he could stop it, but he luckily managed not to say it out loud.

With a wan smile, he arched his brow. “That’s true. Lucky for you, I’m not hungry.”

Well. He kind of managed not to say it out loud.

“Lucky for me? Lucky for you. My blood is about half-alcohol right now. If you drank my blood, you’d be a very silly vampire.”

The idea of this made you laugh, tipping your head back and flashing a white row of teeth. Jimin couldn’t help but smile, a confusing mix of endearment and alarm swirling through him. He wondered how much you’d had to drink before you left Paulo’s.

He hadn’t been watching you the entire night, after all.

Only most of it.

“A silly vampire, huh?” he mused. “Damn, Y/N – when was the last time you went out? Your tolerance is shit.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I haven’t drunk much this semester. Too much dance, too little time. I think the last time I went out was –”

Jimin winced when Noelle pulled open the door, a blast of cold air hitting him in the face.

“We’re here!” she squealed, launching herself outside.

Jimin blinked, attempting to pull himself together. You’d stopped talking mid-sentence, sitting up straighter and Jimin felt a vague twinge of annoyance at the car ride ending so soon. Then, he noticed you shivering.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked gently. “I can give you, uh…”

“Your shirt?” you said wryly, clambering over the seat. “Then you’d be shirtless, Park. Let’s think this through.”

Stifling his laugh, Jimin ducked his head as he followed. You were right, after all. He didn’t have anything to give you, even if he wished he did.

“Come on!” you yelled, starting to run towards the club.

Jimin purposefully hung back, waiting for Hoseok before he made his entrance. He needed a few moments alone, needed some distance between you. It was embarrassing how quickly you managed to tear down his walls.

Jimin had always been drawn to you, but this was something else entirely. Over the past several weeks, you’d let your guard down and Jimin had realized exactly what he’d missed out on. He’d seen how funny you were, how determined, how smart and how fierce you could be. And now that he’d seen it all, Jimin found himself wanting more.

He couldn’t have more though since you were already taken. You already had a boyfriend, which meant Jimin needed to back off.

Bitterness tinged his thoughts as he entered the club, although his eyes quickly widened when he saw the décor. This place was nice. Noelle had seriously undersold her brother’s connections. He and Hoseok weren’t even asked to show their fake IDs at the door; they were simply waved in.

When he and Hoseok reached their reserved table, Jimin entered the tail end of a conversation. Jasmine wanted to dance, which Irene and Paulo readily agreed to.

“What about you, Y/N?” asked Irene, turning your way. “You in?”

It seemed as though you were about to say yes when Jimin saw you glance at the floor. Something in your expression wavered and after a moment, you slowly exhaled.

“That’s okay,” you said, turning back. “I think I’m going to stay here for a while. I’ll join you later!”

Irene frowned, but finally nodded and left with the rest. Hoseok followed suit, punching Jimin in the arm and yelling something about shots. Jimin told him he’d be down in a second, even though he knew this was a lie.

You sat down alone in the booth, staring at the dance floor and looking vaguely miserable. Something unfamiliar unfurled in Jimin’s chest – protectiveness, or something like it. Before he could talk himself out of it, Jimin lowered himself beside you.

“You didn’t want to dance?” he asked.

Surprised, you glanced sideways and realized Jimin had stayed.

Looking away, Jimin began to undo his cuffs. His heartbeat hammered his ribcage, and he was deathly afraid you’d hear and know his intentions were far from honorable. There was nothing remotely close to friendship on Jimin’s mind tonight. He was kidding himself if he said there was.

“No,” you said with a sigh, crossing your legs. Jimin’s jaw tensed, remembering the flash of blue panties from earlier. “I just don’t really feel like it.”

“Is this the whole hating clubs thing again?”

“Kind of.” You shrugged. “I don’t know. Club dancing isn’t like normal dancing, you know?”

Bewildered, Jimin finally looked up and met your gaze. He didn’t understand why you felt this way but could only assume your boyfriend had something to do with it. Club dancing was fun when you were with the right people.

“It is when you’re at a club full of dancers,” he said, pointing towards the floor.

Following his hand, you saw Jasmine dancing onstage like a crazed, Disney vision. A smile crossed your lips and you nodded before you turned back.

“Okay,” you admitted. “That does look like fun. The last time I was at a club was with Finn.”

Jimin blinked, attempting to piece together what one statement had to do with the other. “Sorry,” he said. “What?”

Before he could move though, you leaned forward and now Jimin could smell your perfume, your shampoo, and the faintest hint of musk beneath that.

“In the cab,” you said, completely unaware of what you were doing to him. “You asked me when I last went out. It was that night… um…” Trailing off, your gaze flicked to his. “The night you came and picked me up.”

Jimin seemed to stop breathing.

What he needed to do was leave, he decided. Get up and leave, maybe go down to the dance floor. He could dance with someone else, go home with someone else – bury himself inside someone else and try and forget about you.

The moment this thought crossed his mind, the utter wrongness of it tore through his chest. He wanted you. Not someone else.

Abruptly, Jimin made his decision and stood, holding out a hand.

You stared at this in confusion. “What are you doing?”

Feeling slightly foolish, Jimin retracted the gesture. “Taking you down to the dance floor,” he insisted. “Come on, Y/N! You don’t have to give out dry lap dances, or whatever.”

The expression of betrayal you adopted was enough to make Jimin smile.

“Hey!” you blurted. “You said you’d forget all about that.”

“Seriously.” He grinned. “We can just do the sprinkler, or something. It’ll be fun!”

He waited for you to respond, unsure why he was trying so hard.

He shouldn’t be working this hard to see you smile, but all Jimin could think was how sad you’d looked a few minutes ago. It was worth it to make you happy, even if you didn’t leave with Jimin tonight. Even if someone else got to benefit from your presence.

Finally, you nodded. “The sprinkler?” you said as you stood. “Was that really the first move you thought of?”

“Nah,” Jimin said, turning around. “My go-to move is the criss-cross, but I figured this was more your speed.”

You laughed, but Jimin barely heard it as you walked down the stairs. His head was already spinning, unsure what he was doing, but the moment the Russet group came into view, Noelle saw you and cheered.

“Y/N!” she called as you entered the crowd.

Jimin let you leave, knowing it was for the best. Hoseok challenged him to a dance-off, and Jimin began to lose track of time after that. It wasn’t long before people started splitting off in search of drinks or entertainment.

At some point, Jimin glanced up and realized it was only you left. You were the one egging him on, not Hoseok but somehow, Jimin found it wasn’t weird. His dance moves became sillier and more ridiculous, which was unusual. He wasn’t normally like this, but something about you lowered his inhibitions.

As he spun around in a circle, Jimin felt his hand connect with something hard and a drink went flying.

In horror, Jimin turned and saw he’d soaked the six foot tall behemoth behind him. Wiping blue drink from his eyes, the guy looked angrily down and locked gazes with Jimin.

“Shit,” you breathed, grabbing hold of his arm. “Run!”

Jimin protested, but you had a tight grip and eventually, he gave in and followed.

“No, wait – let me apologize!” Jimin said, trying to turn back. “I can pay for his drink! I can –”

You were cracking up, out of breath when you finally spun around.

Jimin came to a halt. You’d traveled deeper into the crowd, bodies pressing against him from every side. Jimin realized he couldn’t move, but neither did he want to. You were standing so close to him. So close, he could count each individual eyelash and feel the trembling heat from your body.

The dull thump of bass filled the air and, rather than move, you slowly blinked. A second ago you’d been laughing, but no more. Gaze oddly intense, you studied his features and Jimin desperately wished to know what you were thinking.

Before he could ask, someone bumped into you from behind and sent you flying. Jimin caught you without thinking, pulling you closer and when you glanced up at him in surprise, his mind became a perfect blank. For a moment he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but hold you against him.

Somehow, his thigh had become wedged between yours and the soft warmth of your body embedded itself in his mind. Jimin nearly combusted at your touch – nearly bent and crushed your lips to his – but before he could do anything at all, you shifted.

The movement was subtle, barely even there, but it shredded what remained of Jimin’s self-control. Grip tightening on your arms, he allowed blatant desire to bleed into his gaze.

It could have been his imagination, but he swore he heard a soft gasp from your lips. Gaze hardening, your fingers curled in his shirt as you moved your hips again; this time on purpose.

Jimin broke, grip tightening further to drag you up his thigh. He saw your eyelashes flutter, a lone vein pulsing in your jaw as you tipped your head back. The song in the background was darker, more seductive when Jimin lowered his head. Hands sliding up the panes of your back, he pulled you closer and brushed his lips to your ear.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice embarrassingly soft.

Suddenly, you froze.

In a panic, your eyes flew open.

When they met his, some of the haze seemed to clear from Jimin’s brain. He realized with horror exactly what he was doing. Holding you like this, touching you like this in the middle of a dance floor surrounded by all your friends from Russet. Anyone could have seen, and you – well, you had a boyfriend. You weren’t Jimin’s to dance with.

Something cracked in your gaze as you realized this, dropping your arms.

“I have to go,” you blurted before you whirled around.

Jimin stared after, his feet frozen solid, stuck to the floor. He was dimly aware he should follow but had no idea what to say. He’d messed up. It had been a giant mistake to think he could be close to you tonight and not give into temptation.

But then, again – he hadn’t been the only one who’d given in.

Jerking himself from his trance, Jimin forced his feet to move as he entered the crowd. It hadn’t been his imagination the way you’d looked at him tonight. The way you’d danced with him, the noises you’d made. He needed to find you. He needed to ask you what it all meant, but by the time he reached the edge of the dance floor, you were already gone.

Desperately, Jimin searched but you were nowhere to be found. Gut sinking, he began to retrace his steps and nearly ran into the blue drink guy from earlier. Hastily, he retreated and made his way across the room.

Jimin was beginning to understand your aversion to clubs. Everyone in here was loud, drunk and he couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen to you while you were separated. Jimin desperately hoped you’d learned your lesson from last time and hadn’t exited the building.

“Noelle!” he called as he broke through the crowd.

Glancing down from the stage, Noelle seemed surprised when she saw Jimin approach. He supposed he looked like a mess and, reaching hastily upwards, attempted to smooth down his hair.

“What?” she yelled back, leaning over the edge of the platform.

Jimin craned his neck upwards. “Have you seen Y/N?”

“What? Y/N?”

“Have you seen her?” he called.

“No?” Noelle’s gaze narrowed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Jimin’s stomach churned. If you hadn’t come here, he needed to keep looking. “I – nothing.” Shaking his head, he took a step backwards. “I just… yeah. Nothing.”

Turning around, he plunged into the crowd and wondered what the hell he was doing. If Jimin wanted to be more obvious, he could just hang a sign around his neck saying he had a gigantic crush on you.

Coming to a stop at the edge of the dance floor, Jimin dug around in his pocket to pull out his phone. He was about to dial your number when he saw a flash of movement in the corner of his eyes. Glancing over, he saw you as you exited a dark hall labeled restrooms. Lowering his phone, Jimin began to walk towards you, only to pause when you pulled out your phone.

You were dialing.

Coming to a stop beside coat check, you began calling someone and although Jimin stood still and waited, his phone refused to ring. Glancing down, Jimin confirmed this and a frown tugged at his lips.

Suddenly, his stomach plummeted.

You were calling Finn. Of course, you were – you’d called your boyfriend to come pick you up, which was the perfect, cyclical ending to this perfect, cyclical night. Closing his eyes, Jimin tried to slow his breathing before he opened them again.

He saw you speaking to someone and the knot in his chest gradually loosened. At least your boyfriend had managed to pick up his phone this time. At least you were safe and wouldn’t be alone. Slipping his phone back in his pocket, Jimin turned around and made straight for the bar.

Dark, viscous emotions warred in his chest and before he could stop himself, Jimin found himself ordering a whiskey. Tapping his fingers against the bar, he waited for his drink and stared at the dance floor.

After a while, he couldn’t help it – he looked. He couldn’t stop himself from checking what you were doing. When it came to you, all sense of self-preservation seemed to fly out the window.

It was surprising then, when Jimin saw Noelle burst from the crowd. She hurried to where you were standing and Jimin realized with shock you’d called her, not Finn.

Before he could react to this, a glass of whiskey was pressed into his waiting hand. Feeling somewhat dazed, Jimin lifted this to his lips.

Merciless hope bloomed within and Jimin tried his best to squash it. Hope only seemed to bring more disappointment when it came to you. The truth of the matter was you weren’t his to want.

With a low sigh, Jimin lowered his drink and turned from the bar.

Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he’d call and ask you to forget everything about tonight. As much as it pained him – as much as he wanted to invite you over right now, to imprint your body against his on the sheets – Jimin also didn’t want to have you like this.

He wanted you to be entirely his, and that couldn’t happen tonight.

Tomorrow, though.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! 😊

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin writing #bts writing #jimin dance au #bts dance au #jimin series #bts series

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unknownwriting · 4 years ago

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Same!! Aside from the top 3 you listed, I generally don’t hate any character. Sure, if I see a bad character, I’d either go “Ehhh, I’m willing to forgive you... to some extent” or just “Nope, I dislike you”. But I don’t immediately think of them (except for those 3) when I go to my mental “hated characters” list. Thanks for answering 😊

Also, guessing request are open since your recent post said so, but the description says it’s closed...? I’m gonna take your word for it, and hopefully don’t offend you 😅

May I request Crocodile, Lucci and Kid with a crush on a fem. reader that’s a hopeless romantic? Just thought the dynamics would be adorable with how their personalities are portrayed >w<

As for what I personally classify as a hopeless romantic... it’s not so much the suaveness or charm. Sure, we love ourselves a gentleman that can remind us chivalry is not dead, but it’s more about finding “the one”. And “the one”, which we’re meant to find (kinda like a soulmate), has got to be able to show their sincerity. You can shower me in gold without the most genuine of feelings behind it, and I’d take one look at you, scowl and walk away. Small actions are weighed more heavily if the feelings behind them are sincere. A paper crane with a sweet note on it? My heart would straight up melt.

Figured it’d be interesting since I can imagine them trying to win her over with their perfectly crafted facade only to have her grimace in response since it’s not entirely genuine. We hopeless romantics are “in love with love” and could love practically anyone, but that’s only if they’re sincere.

ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ- having a crush on a hopeless romantic

ｃｈａｒａｃｔｅｒｓ - Eustass Kid, Lucci, Crocodile

ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ - none :)

ａ/ｎ - Hopeless Romantic gang rise up 😫✊🏻 also akdjdid omg I totally forgot to even change the request until I saw your request. Thanks so much i hope you enjoy

unedited

Eustass Kid

This man?? Having a crush?? Not in a million years....well it must’ve been a million years because the Captain of the kid pirates has found himself crushing over a common bartender

There is not anything special about you anyways, just a girl around his age who is stubborn, easy to talk to, and cute. He could find someone like her almost anywhere, but the thing that got him was how stubborn she was.

Kid could flirt all day and try and get you to come with him. But you just wouldn’t come, turning him down each time. It was so frustrating, seeing how you didn’t even flinch when Kid spoke but it was also nice. Kid loves a good challenge.

Of course, didn’t stay on the island the whole time, he still had other things to do, but he did come back often to meet up with her. Kid was not gonna let a perfectly good challenge slip away from him. So it’s easy for y’all to quickly become friends with how often Kid comes by and visits you. It only then did Kid finally realize why you kept turning him down: you were a hopeless romantic searching for the one and as far as you were concerned Kid was not it

When you told him that though all he gave you in return was a confused face and a curse word. ‘The fuck is ‘the one’?’ Kid has never heard anything of the sort, and it didn’t come as a surprise either. Kid was a very loud, mean, frustrating guy who probably only slept around.

Now that the 2 of you got closer, you decided that you could at least tell me, explaining why he doesn’t have a chance. Going over what you imagine your soulmate is just gonna be like definitely grossed Kid out, but he still listens trying to use your explanation as a hint

Long story short it didn’t work that much. Kid was farther from the mark each time he tried. At least that’s what you thought, the more time you spent around the red-haired captain the more selected traits would stand out to you. Traits that you told kid yourself.

Although with the fear of finding the wrong one and only wanting Kid because he’s convent to you, you didn’t say a word not even a peep to him. There would be no way to know that he is the one he’s so different then what you thought. With doubt still sitting in the back of your mind, you decided to keep quiet for now. It wouldn’t be bad to just enjoy his company for a while

Crocodile

LMAOO AJSJSJD I KINDA FORGOT CROCODILE’S PERSONALLY WAS ALREADY TO FAR IN. I’m so sorry but I hope you still enjoy

As soon as Crocodile had laid his eyes on you, he knew exactly what type of person you were a troublesome girl who is still obsessed with finding the one, your soulmate.

He tries his best to stay away from people like you, but it’s hard to do that when your working for him. However he still tried his best to stay away, but then you just always appeared where he would be. You failed the realize it but Crocodile definitely noticed it and just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

From there on out he kept looking at you where ever he went, wondering when and if you would show up. That’s when he finally realized, he has a crush.

It took him a while to approach you and to even get you to talk, but once he was able to, he constantly, being subtle about it, tried to when you over with small gestures of romance.

Which of none has even persuaded you. You had the idea of falling in love with your soulmate. Crocodile can spoil you as much as he wants but that won’t change your mind.

Although the gift he did give you was sweet, somewhat unexpected. Some days it might be a rose, others it might be bracelets, other days it might be a bag of money. Half of the time you thought it was whatever he had on him at the moment.

Aside from gifts he also let a lot of paperwork side which was probably the best thing he could’ve done. But you still did them all, although he was acting very out of character and being unbelievably kind, there was no way you were to gonna take advantage of him.

It frustrated him, it really did. The fact that you didn’t even budge but at the same time he found it very admirable. Having such a strong will and not settling for anything better than your soul mate. It’s a nice challenge that he would definitely accept.

Rob Lucci

Each one of these men loves a good challenge. It’s just a known fact. So when Lucci learned that he was getting a new member on his team he treated her the same way he treated everyone: cold yet with respect. However, he failed to notice just the type of girl you were.

Talkative. Talking to everyone about anything. It’s doesn’t matter who it was you always found a way to talk to them. Whether it was Lucci or Kaku or just some random worker. You always found a way to talk

That was the first challenge. Just getting you to shut up, whether it was by intimation or if it was force, whatever it was, that was his first challenge what came next he has no intention of. You were....actually nice to talk to.

when you were rambling now Lucci could feel his expression loosely and a small, very small smile on his lips. You seemed to be a kinda nice person to talk to and Lucci doesn’t mind you. Maybe you were even nice enough to have a crush on.

With Lucci’s newfound crush, he had no idea what to even do. Besides a few nightstands, the man has never really been considered with the idea. and to make matters worse, he overheard you talking about ‘the one’ as if he was supposed to know what that means. After asking around a bit he was able to figure it out and concluded that he wasn’t it.

Although he wasn’t ’the one’, what’s a challenge if you don’t at least try. So starting with the first thing he could think of he slowly began to participate in the conversation with you. It was awkward and weird but you thought it was cute in his own little way. At least he was trying.

Surprisingly it didn’t take long for the 2 of y’all to warm up to each other. From there, Lucci was able to learn more about you and just how to win you over. He wasn’t as bold as the other 2 but he did try his best to make it noticeable.

You were definitely quick to catch on to his change and to what he was doing but being strong-willed and all you continued to turn him down. Lucci just wasn’t your type and you felt bad for telling him that but it was true. However, Lucci is not gonna give up on you that easily. Once Lucci accepts and challenges there’s no going back

#one piece x reader #one piece #unknownwriting💕#crocodile x reader #rob lucci x reader #rob lucci #eustasscaptainkid #eustass kid x reader

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yourfavouritetragedy · 4 years ago

Text

I was adding onto the DSMP Actor AU post, but it turned into Wilbur musician AU, haha rip me, and I only know SBI anyways so here’s a separate post. (It goes back to actor AU at the end.) It’s hypothetically still in the same universe though, and obviously inspired by it. If anything’s phrased weirdly, it’s cuz this was originally an addition to that.

tbh I kinda adhered to their IRL careers too much compared to the OP but whatever it’s fine.

Also frick the “Dream SMP” for not having a better title lmaooo

Wilbur is an indie artist really on the come up

Your City Gave Me Asthma was pretty good for a first release, popular with both new fans and fans of his acting.

He had starred in a short mystery/thriller-ish series that started off disguised as a normal sitcom: Chilly in Lincolnshire {Editor Wilbur ARG}

It had a prominent release because of Jack Massey’s involvement and previous fame, but production was abruptly scrapped before it tied everything up with a bow on top, so to speak. It’s still unclear if this was actually planned in order to tell the story the way they way wanted.

Even before that, critics had mixed reviews, either applauding the storytelling and acting or calling it “irrationally confusing, an amateurish attempt to box unconventional storytelling into a conventional medium.”

Also SootHouse was a sitcom that achieved a cult following during the two seasons it ran before cancellation. Either you’re a fan or you’re never heard of it, and people constantly forget Wilbur was in it.

(He was a few other old shows on his resume too. Wilbur always focuses on the newest project, so everyone always forgets about what he was in before.)

Maybe I Was Boring EP was initially just bonus tracks on his website, but his fans liked it so much he gave it a wider release

In between, he had a few comedy songs go viral on youtube. Everybody was so confused when they realized it was the same Wilbur as musician/actor Wilbur. He laughed about it in an interview, saying “How many Wilburs do you know?”

That’s when it came out that “Wilbur Soot” was actually a stage name. (”Ha, fair, only one.” “Make that zero-- my name’s not really Wilbur.”)

He kinda disappeared after that?? Didn’t do anything, really inactive on social media. It was semi-confirmed that he was both working on his mental health and prepping some stuff (music, auditions).

But anyways he just released a series of singles, combined into Digital Love {E-girl trilogy}-- he’s transformed his image yet again, but this time he does take ownership of all his past ventures.

The release of Digital Love bridges the end of SMP Earth and the beginning Dream SMP.

But before that there was MCC and the other stuff.

They are shows where celebrities team up do stuff-- you know the type

but Minecraft Monday is still inexplicably Minecraft Monday. Some Youtuber just managed to get all these up and coming celebrities to play a Minecraft tournament.

And that’s where the Sleepy Bois (minus Tommy) met IRL so that’s where they meet here.

SMP Earth, like Minecraft Manhunts, is also a former show they were on. I’m going to call it World Domination. Don’t @ me; I know that’s trash lol.

They and the Dream Team met up because of their shared fanbases and were even talking a crossover, but it didn’t really work that well for the stories so they scrapped it

They make a non-canon cross over episode anyways {no IRL equivalent, I think}

Everybody loves the cons. Everytime there’s a con, five friendships are made and eight ideas are created.

Techno backstory time

He’s done a lot of long running, though not exactly popular, serials and sitcoms: Blitz, Survival Games, and Sky Wars.

Winstreak: 1000 {Bed Wars 1000 winstreak} was so popular they made a second season, but it never got as big as the first. He worked nearly exclusively with Hypixel Studios.

He was doing lots of random content for their new Sky World universe {Skyblock} -- the small studio was big on experimentation -- , when a fictional documentary, The Great Potato War, went proper viral.

They made two sequels WHILE he was doing those celebrity team challenge shows and then World Domination, and they were actually good sequels.

Got a reputation for being shallow and a sell-out, but he makes a joke of it so much he gets away with it and constantly self-promos.

Also a kinda scary to work with for the first time because of how single-minded he can get, but once you realize how socially awkward he is it’s okay.

Now that’s he’s in a lot of stuff with worldbuilding, he practically has the wikis memorized.

Tommy mainly did limited series and movies before World Domination, where he met the SBI.

He’d had been a fan of Wilbur for a while, and was super star-struck at first, but got over it really quickly in his Tommy style

He still is a total fanboy at concerts and whenever a new music video drops. “I’m friends with the guy! I know him, Wilbur Soot!” “Tommy, you’re famous too.” “Yeah, cuz I’m practically in the video!” “No--”

Wilbur takes Tommy to one of his concerts and he’s so hyped the entire time, especially to go behind the scenes and on the stage.

Sometimes he gets stressed about the pressure of being a child star, but Techno, Philza, and Wilbur promise to stand by him and they make him feel protected

One time Wilbur’s drunk and almost hands Tommy a drink before swearing and going, “You’re a bloody child! You can’t have that! God, what would Philza think?” Tommy’s not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Philza laughs at the story and actually lets Tommy try a little in a more controlled, responsible situation. Tommy texts his mum first, and then hates the drink anyways. (”This is rubbish! I am a man, but I’m not drinking this!” Techno: “Alcohol is disappointing. I drink orphan’s tears instead.” “Techno WHAT--”)

Philza had been the star of a zombie apocalypse show: Golden Core

He did canonically die to a child zombie in the movie version. Yes, they made a movie version of the TV show, because the Golden Core franchise actually has had many other shows {other hardcore series}.

Everybody tries to get the child zombie props near him because of that (they’re puppets)

He’s done a lot of other things, like in the original actor AU post, but none of them came close in popularity.

He gives the rest of the SBI the knowledge he’s gained from being in the biz for so long.

There’s also a running joke about SBI meaning “Spy Boys Incorporated” and them starring in a comedy spy movie

The fans would very much actually like this to happen. There’s so many fanons for it (maybe I’ll write one....)

Back to the DSMP. Maybe I’ll call it Dreamland or smth.

Wilbur constantly asks Tommy if he’s okay after any difficult scenes

Especially when they were hanging out together a lot in the exile arc.

All the brother scenes were cut because Wilbur kept breaking down and crying in them.

Sometimes people actually ask Techno and Tommy if they’re actually brothers. Tommy tries to go along with it half the time on the basis of “it’s be funny,” so there’s a subset of casual fans that genuinely don’t know.

After Alivebur was killed off, Wilbur was going to leave the show to concentrate on his music

But he missed the SMP and hanging so much that he just showed up on set one day saying “I’m a ghost now,” and everyone just rolled with it

Alivebur was so popular that, seeing that Wilbur was willing, they decided to bring him back for Season 3. He’s been avoiding doing heavy scenes, but he still seems really invested and like he wants to come back to the show.

Wilbur talks with Techno about writing and lore a lot

it’s one the few times Wilbur actually seems like the older one

Wilbur attempted to get a D&D group going in the cast, but the show was already close enough, with the amount of improvisation they can get by with

Tommy’s Pigstep cover happened, but the background was Philza clapping barely in time with just Wilbur on bass instead (and of course Techno’s “BAHP”s)

It was a charity stream. They had put on their costumes (clothes only) for a previous goal.

This one was simply called “We rap.”

Some people were almost disappointed that Tommy was the only one actually rapping, but he was so funny it made up for it.

Okay I spent the whole morning on this and it got way too long but I think I’m finally out of ideas. sorry haha hope you enjoyed! ^_^

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fangirlinglikeabus · 2 years ago

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been having wifi problems lately and limited access to tumblr so here’s me vomiting all my notes on the shadow of weng-chiang into one post. for posterity.

...they could have parked right next to another car if they wanted to swap vehicles, or they could have run off into the darkness. Why didn’t they?’ ‘And where did they go?’ The Doctor strolled around in a small circle, peering alternately at the ground and the sky. ‘Hyperspace?’ He stopped and shot her a look. ‘That wasn’t very funny.’

don't listen to him, romana. i thought it was funny

***

The Doctor and Romana sat in a small coffee shop, with K9 out of the way under the table.

question: how did they sneak k-9 in in the first place

***

The Doctor shook his head. ‘I can’t hear a thing. Probably a mimes’ convention.’

not to be mean but this does feel too try hard in trying to get the fourth dr's voice

***

A woman in a plain red skirt and top followed him.

i'm sorry, but i refuse to believe romana's worn anything plain in her life

***

so many good things in the arrest scene...'we're just sort of passing through shanghai, in a very temporal sense'...romana's amusement at giving her full name...'it was as if she were going along purely as a favour' when romana is led off

***

was that a chinese eating dogs joke from the doctor? I Don’t Like That

***

She shook her head; there was plenty of time for life later. After her debt was repaid.

bet you anything this lady's gonna die at some point

***

'Why don’t we try making short hops in the TARDIS – spatial only. Then perhaps we can triangulate a source for this.’ The Doctor thought about that, then shook his head. ‘No, I have a better idea; we’ll make a few short spatial hops in the TARDIS and try to triangulate the source of this.’ Romana gave him a bland look. ‘I refuse to let you bait me like that,’ she muttered under her breath.

sjdfbdsjfbsjfbsjfsbhjs

***

She had always been rather highly strung, but he didn’t mind since she was an excellent cook.

this does NOT endear me to li

***

They would travel again, he was sure, once this business was finished. Then he would never be apart from her again. Every time they parted, he was secretly terrified that he would lose her, and so he went on the more dangerous trips himself. He didn’t fear death half as much as he feared loss.

oh these guys are definitely going to die part 2

***

kwok and hsien-ko are like evil nick and nora charles/william powell and myrna loy according to li. obsessed with that comparison?

***

The car turned and the grey rock of a quarry stretched out below them. The Doctor perked up. ‘A quarry! How very interesting!’ He paused. ‘It looks a lot like Skaro, actually. Or the land outside the Capitol...’

quarry jokes my beloved

***

one of the other characters has very rapidly developed a crush on romana...cheers bro i'll drink to that

***

Besides, I don’t think Hsien-Ko’s that keen on killing, which makes a nice change. I wish I could say the same about her man.’ ‘Typical male?’ she asked archly. ‘I don’t know. Anyway, after Xanxia, then Vivien Fay...It must be something to do with political correctness.’ ‘Political correctness?’ ‘Hmm. It’s a general feeling that discrimination is all right so long as it’s done by groups who were discriminated against earlier.’ ‘I see; tit for tat. Very childish.’

i. do not like this conversation. and it feels so contrived to link female villains back to political correctness in this conversation anyway??

***

could've done without the implication that romana got groped

***

According to K9’s internal chronometer, and cross-referencing with past data, the Doctor and Romana would be locked up by now, and would doubtless soon call for his assistance.

lmao he knows them so well

***

K9 knew that the Doctor wouldn’t appreciate his killing these men, so he restrained himself to a stun level as usual, and started firing.

loving the implication that if it weren't for the doctor k-9 would be a killing machine

***

She had met the original at home on Gallifrey, where it had become quite a celebrity

vital k9 lore just dropped

***

K9 had been slowly climbing the steps to the South Gate of Heaven for several hours.

lmao i'd forgotten about him in all the action. you go little buddy!!

***

i do like li and woo seeing each other and li realising that he knows this guy. li's death scene in general i was unexpectedly invested in?

***

actually quite liked the end of that one! i don't think david a mccintee is the strongest of dw writers (sometimes he states character emotions rather bluntly in a way that doesn't work for me) but it had some compelling action, i (mostly) liked the dr/romana/k9 interactions, it's always nice when romana i crops up in the eu because she does so comparatively rarely, and if nothing else it felt like more of an EFFORT was made with the chinese characters than in the story it's a sequel of (even if, again, we all could have done without that eating dogs joke)

#laura reads dw books #laura reads the vmas #inserting a read more bcos it got a LOT longer than i expected

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scarlettriot · 3 years ago

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MHA Headcanons - Stretch Marks

Featuring: Yaoyorozu, Midoriya, Ashido, & Kirishima

Contains: Body image issues, mild eating disorder, learning to love the body you're in, different reasons we get stretch marks, growing pains, minor swearing.

Pairings: Minor KiriMina if you squint

It was getting late, nearing the hour when everyone would start heading off to their rooms for the night. Dinner had long since ended but Yaoyorozu's stomach let out a fearsome growl. She'd overused her quirk and her body was craving something to eat, but she didn't need it. She'd be fine without it.

Still, she wouldn't be able to sleep with the grumbling. Yaoyorozu went down to the kitchen with the intention of brewing a small cup of tea, enough to calm her mind and make drifting off to sleep an easier task.

But when she stood up on tiptoes to reach the shelf the canister had been on her shirt had ridden up and that was when she saw it in the glass of the pantry door.

Her reflection showed a brand new stretch mark over where her hip bone was and up along her side. She dropped the tea canister and hurried to the glass, lifting her shirt to examine the blemish closer.

"No, no, no, no, no..." She muttered to herself. Another one? How could she have another one! All those cremes and wraps she'd been using, the tips and tricks her mother had sent her and she still had yet another stretch mark? This couldn't be happening.

She'd been so caught up in looking at her body that she hadn't noticed Midoriya walk in, cock his head to the side, and realize what she was scrutinizing. "Battle scar, huh? Cool!"

She shoved her top down so fast, painting on a smile and adding a chuckle for good measure. "What? Oh, no. Thought I might be getting a rash is all."

He gave her a look of confusion. "Sorry. I thought you were looking at a scar." Midoriya looked down at his own arms littered with them and something tightened in Yaoyorozu's chest. She didn't really have scars, she just had stretch marks, Midoriya... Todoroki, they had REAL scars.

"Sorry, I, um, no." Stumbling over the words, "I just have a stretch mark that I didn't notice before. It's not a real scar or anything."

Midoriya just smiled and unzipped his jacket slipping an arm free. "Yeah! I have those too! Pretty cool to see how far we've come right? I think they're real scars, just a different kind, ya know? They still show progress."

Ashido had turned off the television while Kirishima picked up the bowl of popcorn and they both joined the conversation. "Showing off stretch marks, huh?" She pulled up her shorts a little bit, "I got these when we started training last year... they used to really bother me, I've already got them all over my hips!"

Kirishima lifted up his own shirt to expose his stomach with one hand and let his other arm fall around Mina's shoulders. "Anyone who's gone through a massive body change real fast has 'em. But, I know what you mean." His shirt fell at the same time his eyes went to the ground.

Ashido pulled the redhead into a hug. "Kiri learned recently that having some squish is better for him than just abs." She explained.

"Helps me take hits better. So, now I got this little belly goin' on with stretch marks and growth marks... and I'm the one running around shirtless when you, Bakugo, and Todoroki have the actual body types to be doin' that sort of thing."

Midoriya assured him he look just fine, good even, but Yaoyorozu knew what that felt like. Being so exposed when you didn't have the picture-perfect body to be doing so.

"You're still the strongest out of us all, Kirishima. We can't take hits the way you can."

Midoriya could always find the brighter side of things.

"We play to our strengths..." He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the leftovers from dinner. "We practice, and learn what we have to do to be the best heroes we can be. That includes building the bodies that we need. Who cares if you have stretch marks on your thighs, Ashido? You're one of the most nimble people I know. Kirishima, as long as you're comfortable shirtless, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. And Yaoyorozu, your quirk relies on your fat lipids, the things you can do with it are amazing..."

Kirishima put a hand on her shoulder, "But, like Fat Gum, you're at your strongest when you've got some weight on you."

"I know it's hard, especially with the Mount Lady's of the world but, we've got this!" Mina bumped hips with her. "Anyone says anything to you, you tell me and I'll yell at you like I did at Monoma when he said something to Eiji...damn shithead."

Yaoyorozu smiled while Midoriya finished heating up the food.

"It was pretty manly the way you put him in his place."

A bowl slid in front of Yaoyorozu. "Eat up. I could hear your stomach complaining when I came into the kitchen."

She smiled at the small group huddled around her in the kitchen, thankful they understood her and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she wasn't alone. Everyone was human, they all had insecurities, but, they were working towards becoming exactly who they needed to be and that was what she had to do too.

It wouldn't be easy. She'd have to throw conventional beauty standards out the window but as long as she had good people by her side that seemed doable.

A/N: Thanks for reading this random-ass headcanon I had at 3 AM. I'll probably have many more. If you have any, let me know! I'd love to hear them!

#mha #mha fluff #mha headcanons #bnha #momo yaoyorozu #momo headcanons #eijiro kirishima #mina ashido #kirimina #momo fluff #kirishima fluff #mina ashido fluff #kirimina fluff

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painless-innit-colourful · 3 years ago

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The Light Behind Their Eyes

It’s been a long-time headcanon of mine that the songs of Conventional Weapons exist in the universe of Dangers Days. And I’m sure you can guess which one this fic concerns... After a few terrible weeks for the rebels, there’s a special guest on Dr Death’s radio show, and they’ve got a very special message for the Zones.

It's been a bad few weeks in the Zones.

It began almost three weeks ago, when Dr D announced over the airwaves that Jet Star and the Kobra Kid got themselves dusted. Since then, it's been almost every night; killjoy names no one you know has ever heard of being given their two words on the evening 'cast. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W sightings are more frequent, and claps happen every few hours. BLI seems to finally be cracking down on the desert rebels like they once promised they would, and it's leaving crews down members and everyone losing hope. Some say 'Destroya and the Pheonix Witch have abandoned us', but you try to hold out hope. Destroya protects the droids foremost, and only heaven knows if they're currently having as bad a time as the 'joys. As for the Pheonix Witch... Supposed sightings have dried up, but you're not surprised. With all the dustings lately, she must be busy. Whispers throughout the desert say they can hear the ghosts of the passed killjoys shouting out in the static, singing their songs long into the night in a spiritual procession through the sand wastes. A parade of death, like a cemetery drive on the move. It's a depressing thought, but it holds up to reason. The mailbox is full.

You're alone tonight; you needed some air. The campfire's been burning for hours, and though it could attract some less than wanted attention, it's a put it out or go inside kind of night. Next to it sits an empty can of Power Pup (it's been tasting worse recently) and your radio. It blares some old Mad Gear song, which Dr D introduced as a "favourite of our Fab Four" when it started. His intros have been weirdly short these past few hours. You sit back and try to enjoy the last thirty seconds or so of the song. The sun set hours ago, and the stars are out. You wonder if the old dust trails about ghosted 'joys becoming stars are true.

"Alright, children," Dr Death's nightly greeting sounds out into the night air. "The lights are out, and the party's over. But before I go, I've got one more treat for you." In the background, while he talks, you hear the strained tones of an acoustic guitar being tuned. That gets your attention. Guitars - electric ones - are common at Zone concerts, but since they're so quiet, no one plays acoustic guitars. The only other time you've ever heard one was when you came across a half-broken thing with your crew in the burnt-out shell of an old building. No one could figure out how to make it sound anything but rusty. "I've got an old friend with a pretty shiny piece of junk here, and they'd like to play you a song. Let's just say, you won't get this at none o' your Mad Gear shows. Sing yourselves to sleep tumbleweeds, and don't let the static swallow you up. Goodnight." There's a moment of quiet as whoever shuffles towards the microphone, and you hit the 'record' button on your radio just as Dr D softly utters: "S'all your's Party." The archaic tape recorder splutters and whirrs to life, wheezing from disuse before the little crimson light blinks on, just as whoever it is in the Dr's studio starts to strum gently. You sit back again as they begin to sing:

"So long to all my friends, / Every one of them met tragic ends."

Somewhere in the second line, their voice breaks and Dr D murmurs something you don't catch. Their playing isn't amazing, but the guitar seems to almost be crying its notes, surrounding them in emotion, though maybe that's just you. These past weeks have been harsh, and you haven't heard something so gentle in a long time.

"With every passing day, / I'd be lying if I didn't say / That I miss them all tonight / And if they only knew what I would say,"

Something about the lyrics makes you want to go get your crew and hold them tight, protect them from the elements and BLInd and whatever's out there in the static to be afeared of. Everyone in the desert knows someone who's recently joined the parade of the dead, whether they were your best mate or the chilly weirdo you got into a fight over PP prices with at Tommy's. You wonder if the singer has lost someone recently too.

"If I could be with you tonight, / I would sing you to sleep / Never let them take the light behind your eyes / One day I'll lose this fight / As we fade in the dark / Just remember you will always burn as bright."

The desert seems to grow still around you, as even the wind stops to listen to the melody of the 'joy on the radio. Who is that? You recognise their voice somewhat: you've heard them in the background of Dr Death's broadcasts before, and any voice on the radio that isn't one of the DJs or Cherri Cola gets your attention. Right before they started singing Dr D called them Party... You wrack your brain for any Killjoys with Party in the name, and the only one that comes to mind is Party Poison, of the Fab Four. Could it be them? Dr D said before that last Mad Gear song that it was a "favourite of our Fab Four", and the loss of Party's friend and brother was the beginning of this awful few weeks for all the Zones so... it could make sense. Then again, maybe it isn't.

"Be strong and hold my hand, / Time it comes for us, you'll understand / We'll say goodbye today, / And I'm sorry how it ends this way, / If you promise not to cry, / Then I'll tell you just what I would say-"

Their voice grows stronger, more sure of themself as they sing, though they break again a little on "promise not to cry". As they get louder, someone (presumably Dr D) starts drumming using his desk, and the wind around you picks back up, whipping sand into a frenzy and nearly dousing your campfire early. You can hear something far away in the desert; the wind is moaning, and the sky responds.

"If I could be with you tonight, / I would sing you to sleep / Never let them take the light behind your eyes / I'll fail and lose this fight / Never fade in the dark / Just remember you will always burn as bright."

The passion behind their words sounds like a promise. The wind intensifies; the desert itself is howling, the sand puts your campfire out and leaves you alone in the noisy silence. Your empty Power Pup can is scooped up by the wind and tossed away, clanging against something on the way down, the sound like mournful crying. Without the firelight, the stars that suddenly fill the once-empty expanse above grow brighter to compensate. You shuffle closer to your radio and turn it up slightly, and hear the song of a defiant killjoy join the cacophonous fray:

"The light behind your eyes. / The light behind your- / Sometimes we must grow stronger and / You can't be stronger in the dark. / When I'm here, no longer / You must be stronger and-"

As the singing 'joy enters the bridge, something appears in the sandstorm. People: killjoys, running, dancing, singing in unheard voices, laughing to jokes never heard. Their colours are brighter than the stars, their smiles wider than the Zones. They are walking as one, up and down the dunes, a heaving mass of people celebrating, firing rayguns into the dark, toasting Power Pup like it doesn't taste like dog food. Someone else appears before you as you grab your radio and hold it tight, lest the wind carries it off. You look up to see her dark cloak, her halo of violet light, her mask staring back. As the sandstorm rages and the wind tears at you like needles, it snatches at the top of your head, taking your mask as it rests there. It flies away towards her at speed, and she catches it in an outstretched hand. The dancing 'joys shine brighter for a moment, and something in the pit of your stomach makes you feel weightless. You start to rise to your feet, but she steps forward, her hand reaching towards your own.

"If I could be with you tonight, / I would sing you to sleep / Never let them take the light behind your eyes / I failed and lost this fight / Never fade in the dark / Just remember you will always burn as bright. / The light behind your eyes."

The Pheonix Witch stands before your trembling form and presses your mask back into your shaking hand. She steps away, and you feel lightheaded, the dancing lights burning too bright, a hundred stars leaping skyward. She turns and walks towards the procession of ghosted killjoys, leaving you once again alone in the sand. The colours of the procession fade to greys and blacks, and then altogether. The Witch disappears, and you see your vision blur with tears. You slump sideways and lie there in the desert, at the centre of a sandstorm, radio clutched to your heart, mask scrunched in one hand. You vaguely hear the singer repeat the last line "The light behind your eyes” again, and again, and again, like a lullaby into the night.

When you wake, it's all white noise. At some point the tape recorder stopped - you're not sure how, as your radio is still clutched to your chest. Your mask is still in hand. You shake off the sand that's piled around you.

The sandstorm. You check for grazes, but nothing hurts. It's freezing, you realise, and still hours away from sunrise, or alarm clock radiation, as one of your crew likes to call it. You better get inside before you die of hypothermia or something. You turn off the radio and head into the building in which your crew are sleeping.

Somewhere in the desert, a crow caws.

---

Taglist: @chaoticemopigeon @antikalvinclub (remember this thing?!)

#y'know. it took me a good five minutes to remember the original premise behind this thing #hi yes if you didn't see the post i made before this: i wrote this in august 2020 and completely forgot about it until recently #i feel like i'm 13 listening to dd while editing. planetary go came on and it was like hearing it for the first time again #full three minute dance party in my room #anyway when i say i've had this hc for a while... lmao #crim writes #mcr #danger days #the light behind your eyes #danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #the pheonix witch #party poison #IT'S BEEN OVER A YEAR SINCE I'VE BEEN IN THIS FANDOM OH MY GOD #okay since it's done now i'll be here crying to kids from yesterday if you don't mind

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arduadastra · 4 years ago

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Lost Faith - Part One

A/N ITS FINALLY HERE!! Thank you for the support and I can't believe I wrote this, if you want a part two let me know!

FINALLY updated to this gorgeous header by @sirtadcooper (who you definitely need to follow)

This is set right after the season two finale and is kind of what I imagine Din would be feeling right after he’s handed Grogu off and what it would be like to find him.

Also, the crest didn’t explode ok, I refuse to believe that.

- 2.1K - (what happened?!)

/// Din is alone. He’s been alone most of his adult life. Once he left the convent he’s captured quarries solo for years. He’s used to the quiet solace hyperspace provides, the occasional hums and beeps from the crest console and the sounds of starlight rushing past is nothing more than white noise at this point. So why does it feel different this time? He leans over and flips a switch. He likes quiet, he knows quiet. Talking has never been his strong suit - in fact, he actively avoids it if he can but there’s a tightness in his chest he’s trying to ignore and he needs a fucking distraction before he punches something. After he had handed... to the Jedi he doesn’t really remember much else. Bo Katan had said something about needing to discuss his future and the dark sabre but he hadn’t paid her much thought to be honest. He had felt numb and it just didn’t seem important at the time. He remembers looking at them all and how they looked back at him. He didn’t even really realise why they seemed to stare so much until he accidentally kicked the helmet at his feet. He hadn’t bothered to put it back on. What’s the point? He had barely managed to justify putting it back on after revealing himself for that imperial scanner. Every soul that saw his face after that had died, other than Mayfeld that is. Technically no living being had seen his face so his creed remained unbroken. But this time? Din caught himself staring and at a lever with a certain missing sphere on top. He looked away. His creed. The one thing he held above all else. The thing that he had engrained into him since he was a foundling and what made him who he is: a Mandalorian. Yet, he has met Mandalorian's and they did not cover their face. They had called him different. ’A child of the watch’ Bo-Katan had said - was he even Mandalorian then? The thought cast his eye to his helmet lying discarded next to him. He thought he’d feel bare without it and he did back with the IG unit but now he just feels angry. The creed he abided by is broken now, but that doesn’t piss him off nearly as much as the realisation that it might not have even fucking mattered in the first place. He huffs. No, that’s not it. It is but it isn’t. The pressure in his chest returns and he gasps. “Dank Farrik.” Din clenches his eyes shut against the pain, it’s not like any other pain he’s felt before and he has been hurt a lot. He feels a burning sensation behind his eyelids and he shakes his head, opening his eyes and setting his next coordinates before he can think too hard about why his vision is slightly blurred. ///

It was nearing the end of your shift and you took in the sparse patrons left around you. Bar work wasn’t really what you wanted to do with your life but it’s all you had. No siblings and dead parents made for one lonely existence so you needed the company your customers provided. Drunken patrons tend to have the best stories too. You’ve heard it all over the years: divorced from the wife, hiding from the boss, hiding from the police - those were the best kind. Usually, you could guess why each one was there and why but you were stumped by someone. You had noticed the lone Mandalorian in your bar a while ago. You wouldn’t take a second glance usually but what strikes you is the fact he hasn’t moved in twenty minutes and he’s just been sat staring blankly at his own helmet the whole time. The bar is quiet and you’re the only one working so who gives a shit if you’re polishing the same glass over and over, he’s interesting. You haven’t seen a Mandalorian before let alone one as stoic as him. You’d heard the stories, of course, battle-hardened warriors capable of bringing grown men to their knees in a matter of seconds… Now that's an image. You love people-watching, or thing watching this far out in the rim, and it isn’t often you see humans. Especially ones like him. He seems sad, but not in the obvious moping, crying, shoulder shaking sad - more like he’s grieving. He’s been sat staring at the helmet on the table for a while. His hands are balled into a fist in front of it and it’s like he’s looking through it to the wall behind. His dark eyes have barely blinked and his hair is tousled on his head. He’s tanned too and has the most striking lips you’ve ever seen on a guy. You cock your head as you look at him - he’s hot. You feel bad thinking that when the guy is clearly miserable but he’s gorgeous. You have a thing for stubble and you can’t help but think how it would feel against your skin. And strangely you hate to see him so sad. You have an idea so you turn around and start making your favourite drink while you check on him over your shoulder. After a while, pleased with what you’ve concocted you walk to his table and drop the drink in his line of sight. You smile at him. “On the house.” He doesn’t look up, doesn’t seem to even acknowledge you’ve spoken to him let alone standing two feet to his left. You clear your throat. “That means it's free." He looks up at that, seemingly broken out of whatever trance he was in yet his eyes still seem so far away. “I’m not thirsty.” You nod your head to the table. “Well if you want to keep sitting here, you need something in front of you.” The man looks back at the drink, bumping it with his right fist then stares back ahead. “Ok.” He’s a chatty one. You look back at your bar and around at the other tables, no one seems to need assistance and you’re sure as hell not about to go back to standing behind an empty bar so you take in the Mandalorian and decide to sit across from him. You sigh, “Well the least you can do is have a sip, I made it after all.” The Mandalorian meets your eyes silently then glances down at the drink by his hands. He seems to take a few seconds studying the contents before bringing it to his lips for a drink. You watch him, watch as he drinks from the glass and how it travels down his throat. You see the tendons stretch and his adam apple move as he does. God, how can this guy make drinking sexy? You chide yourself on the thought. This guy is clearly going through something and he doesn’t need some random woman objectifying him. He’s finished now and is actively avoiding your eye line as he looks around himself. He seems lost like he doesn’t know how to have company with him. You decide at that moment that you aren’t leaving this guy alone. “My name is y/n by the way. What’s yours?” Nothing. He’s still not looking at you. You try again. “How was the drink?” The guy must have some form of manners because he responds at that with a slight nod. “Good.” Not much but you’ll take it. You’ve gathered from this short conversation that

this guy isn’t much for small talk so you decide to cut straight to the point. “Who did you lose?” He seems surprised by that. He looks at you fully then and you’re startled by his eyes. The rest of him seems so closed off, so shuttered but his eyes are a dead give away. They swim with grief and pain and it takes your breath away. He doesn’t respond but he keeps looking at you so you take it as permission to keep going. “I know sadness when I see it. See it every day here,” you gesture around you, “but yours seems deeper than that.” He turns away from you and you notice his jaw tense slightly, subtle but you caught it. You’re on the right track at least. “Was it your wife...or husband?” “No.”

Very quick you notice, so not a partner then. “Your friend?” He’s still looking away. Not that then. You look at his face again, he seems older than you. “Your kid?” That gets a reaction. His jaw ticks and his hand's clench. You see his bicep flex at the action and your mind wanders again and just what he looks like under that armour. “Leave me alone." You continue, “What were they like?” He frowns, and looks back at you, “You’re very insistent.” You scoff, “And you barely talk but I don’t judge.” You take a pause then lean forward into his space, “I just know it's useless when people say ’sorry’ or ’that's terrible.’ You know that already. I always found talking about them is more helpful, means there’s someone else out there to remember them.” The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything for a long time. He studies your face, eyes scanning over yours before dropping to your hands that have instinctively reached out towards him. Your fingers are grazing ever so slightly and you think he likes the contact. He leans back slightly in his chair and casts his eyes over your shoulder. “He’s not dead.” You hum, “Ok…” You think, “ ...so he’s missing?” The Mandalorian seems frustrated and shakes his head "Not missing, I mean I don’t know where he is but I - “ He casts his gaze back to you, almost as if he didn’t realise he had been talking, “Why are you asking me this?” You shrug, “Dunno, you just seemed like you needed someone to talk to.” He keeps looking at you. You lean forward more and so does he. Your fingers bump more insistently and you struggle to not rest your hands over his. The energy between the two of you changes ever so slightly, and you feel your hair stand up on end as he stares you down. He’s very intimidating. You like that. Neither of you moves away and the silence between you stretches on. You refuse to speak first because you sort of want to see what his next move is. You get the impression no one stands up to this guy and you want to be the first. He narrows his eyes, his jaw tenses when he speaks coldly, “I don’t need to talk. Go away.” Undeterred you smile at him, flashing him your teeth when you say “Oh I disagree.” He scoffs at that and gets up, leaving the drink you made him and walks out the door. You stand to follow him, grabbing his helmet as you go - how did he forget that? "Hey, we were talking!” you call after him, pushing yourself through the few stragglers still around on the street. He keeps walking, ignoring your yells so you shout louder, “you didn't even finish my drink!" Still nothing, "and you forgot your bucket!" That makes him turn and he sees the helmet under your arm. You walk towards him as he crosses his arms and sighs. He reaches out his hand for it but you hold it out of reach, “ah ah ah, I said we weren’t finished.” He scoffs “I say we have. Give it back.” “Nope.” You say popping the ‘p’ and you smile at him, “Not till you tell me what’s wrong.” He stalks forward and attempts to take the helmet but you’re quicker and sidestep him and cross it over into your other hand, leaning it out of reach again. He growls at that, “I’ll just take it from you.” You dance backwards slightly, “Oh I don’t think you will.” He remains where he is and scowls, “Don’t you have work to finish?” You shake your head, “Nah it's quiet and they’ll all leave now I’m gone. Besides, this is much more fun.” He’s getting annoyed now and gestures towards you, “What? Standing there holding my helmet hostage knowing full well I can just come over there and take it?” He walks forward again, anger now very present on his face - you love that you’ve rattled him. You know it must take a lot to get this guy mad but it seems you’ve done it rather easily. You grin at him, “You’ll have to catch me first.” And with that, you turn and run. ///

If you want to be tagged for part 2 let me know!

Tagged: @darlingotaku @theoriquewitherseld @v-mack @soul-of-daisies @bbwithaknife @luciamajer @altarsw @redredchangesintheskys @thatoneidiot16 @24-blackbirds @dindjarin-mandalorian @engineeredfiction

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #din x reader fic #din djarin x reader fic #din djarin #din djarin fic #mando #mando x reader #mando x reader fic #mando fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic

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exosmutfactory · 4 years ago

Text

Six Phases 006 Pt 2

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: sorry not sorry 😇🚗💨🔥

[ contains: romance, fluff, angst, & smut ]

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Somehow, waking up early on Saturday mornings had become a routine since that weekend. Between the plague-like thoughts that disrupted my sleep and how Baekhyun cutely requested for breakfast the next morning, I dragged my tired body out of bed and quickly whipped up some bacon with scrambled eggs. He insisted that my cooking was the best before the flavor even settled fully onto his tongue, counteracting my every protest with flustering compliments. I recall accidentally telling him he was full of shit—it was only a simple meal, after all. What is that compared to the hundreds of fancy restaurants he has dined in?

"Your food tastes like home," He argued between pacifying whines, back-hugging me in a way that always weakens my defenses. I begrudgingly agreed after convincing him to have turkey bacon from time to time. Pork has its place, and I preferably don't enjoy the breakfast variety all too often.

It's ridiculous what lengths I would go for this infuriatingly attractive man. If my weekend to-do list full of breakfast, groceries, and laundry is anything to go by, I wouldn't oppose being considered as "whipped" for him. It is what it is, man.

Every Saturday I am up and running by the time the sunlight breaks over the horizon. Regardless of how late I end up sleeping the night before, my eyes automatically open between the hours of 6 and 7; ready to climb out of bed as quietly as possible. Thankfully Baekhyun is a heavy sleeper who is content with hugging my pillow to his chest while I sneak off to the kitchen.

The aches in my body become very apparent the moment my foot touches the carpeted floor of our bedroom, a familiar feeling—welcomed almost, though I'd never tell Baekhyun that. His ego when it comes to things like this is big enough as it is.

Suppressing a shiver at the wintry morning air, I reach for his discarded shirt from the night before, tsking quietly at the two buttons missing from the top of the material. I swear he's the most annoyingly endearing man I've ever met. There's no other explanation for why I'm already planning what time to sew the buttons back on, carefully picking them up from the floor and leaving them on top of our shared dresser.

Luckily the remaining buttons are enough to shield my shoulders from the cold of the large apartment; the bottom of the shirt brushing against the back of my thighs as I make my way out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind me. In times like these I am grateful for Baekhyun's habit of leaving his house-slippers right outside of our bedroom. I rarely use mine despite his constant chastising. Some things in life are better bare.

Slipping into the slippers with ease, a smile tugs at my lips while shuffling quietly down the hallway. I usually keep breakfast simple: scrambled eggs, a few strips of bacon—maybe a pancake or two on a particularly good morning. Today, however, I'm in the mood for something more. Omelets, cinnamon buns, and the little sausages Baekhyun has adored lately.

Checking on the buns in the small conventional oven on the counter, I whisk away at the raw eggs that will make up Baekhyun's omelet, smoothing out the yolk entirely. A light breeze and soft kiss pressed to my shoulder break me out of my concentration. I could recognize those pouty lips anywhere.

"You're up early," I murmur, leaning back against his chest. Tilting my head up, I smile at his cute sleepy expression.

"Mmm," He manages to capture my lips in an upside-down kiss that melts me to my very core, his warm fingers seeping through the fabric of my borrowed shirt. "What are you up to?"

"Breakfast," I breathe, cheeks warming as he pulls away, quickly checking on the sizzling frying pan in front of me before he can catch me admiring his bare torso. "I got the sausages you like, Bae."

"Bae?"

The top of my head nearly slams into the bottom of the cabinets as I freeze in my tracks, frying pan clutched in hand. Shit, did I say that out loud? My face might as well be 50 shades of red. "I—I mean-"

Baekhyun plants a kiss on my head that throws my every thought out the window. "I love you." He hums, hugging me warmly before walking to the dining table. The view of his bare back as he runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair is way too captivating for six-thirty in the damn morning.

I put my attention back on the pan, hurriedly removing it from the burner to slide the sausages onto a tray. 30 more seconds and I would have burned the damn things had I not shaken myself back into focus. "Jenny and the gang are coming over today."

"Today?"

I raise a brow at his tone. The high-pitched inquiry of his voice at the mention of his friends is a little suspect. Who was the genius that bragged so much about my BBQ short ribs everyone ended up inviting themselves over to our apartment? Shouldn't he remember our plans for tonight?

"Yes?" I drag out, tilting my head, looking at him skeptically with a hand on my hip, raising my spatula. "Did you forget?"

His silent form sitting rigidly at the table is enough of an answer. "N-" I raise my other brow. "Erm—M-Maybe?"

"Uh-huh." If he wasn't so adorable after just waking up with his lips tutted in a confused pout, I would give him hell. "I bought groceries yesterday, so we're only missing the wine-"

"I'm on it." Baekhyun perks up in his chair as if douched in cold water, pulling his phone out of nowhere. "Hyerin," He murmurs groggily, fumbling clumsily for a couple of seconds and slapping it to his ear in his hurry. "I need a bottle of Dom Perignon by 6:30. Thank you." The call is over in the span of 10 seconds. He sets the device next to his glass of orange juice on the table, busying himself with gulping down half of its contents. It takes a while for him to notice my bewildered gaze. "What?" He mumbles; orange pulp on his pouty lips.

I narrow my eyes, lowering the grease-covered frying pan back to the stove. "Who was that?" And how the fuck you just ordering Dom Perignon as if it doesn't cost my entire education expenses? If you just bought the $50k edition, I swear, Byun Baekhyun—"My new secretary." He yawns, stretching his arms above his head with a soft, content smile. "Come here." He mumbles, opening them towards me, his sleepy brown orbs fluttering sluggishly. "I miss you."

For a moment I just stare at him. "I'm right here..." I mutter softly, growing more aware of his current state by the minute. Those dark circles are committing the worst crime by being on his precious face. Carefully sliding his omelet onto a plate followed by a few pieces of sausage, I can't help laughing a little to myself at the comparison of our meals. His omelet managed to come out better than the one I made for me, perfectly solid compared to my result of scrambled eggs. No matter what, he gets the very best from me—I'm taking the biggest cinnamon bun though. That delicious treat has my name written all over it, it's mine for the taking. Besides, I can risk a sugar-crash unlike Mr. 12 hour shifts over there. Noting his drowsy form nodding off at the table, I quickly reach over to start the coffeemaker.

The smile that lights up his face as I present his food to him makes up for the few seconds I burnt my hand earlier, trying my best not to burn our whole apartment down. Note to self: never daydream about eventful Friday nights while leaning over a hot stove. Had I been slower to react, I'd be nursing my hand back to health with a frazzled boyfriend refusing to let me so much as brush my teeth on my own—it gets overwhelming after the first day, trust me.

Settling down on his lap under the persuasive encouragements falling from his irresistible lips, I hold up a piece of sausage to shush his drowsy mumblings. As cute as he is, he needs his morning protein before he can wake up and function properly. Especially after working 60 hours two weeks in a row. I respect his enthusiasm as a semi-workaholic myself, but damn am I worried. What kind of crazily time-consuming clothing line is going on in his beautiful head this time?

Baekhyun finishes his juice while I pick at my food, lazily twirling his hair between my fingers. Some days I ask myself why I’m still here, why I still try, why I continue on in this relationship that has more blurred lines than direct answers about our future. To tell the truth... I never expected to fall in love again. I never saw this coming—never saw him coming, when my sole way of survival has been spotting things from miles away. How did it come to this? How the hell did this man sneak past all my defenses so easily?

Maybe it was the smile he shot my way the first time we met or the way we had danced that Friday night, his body seeming to match so perfectly with mine. His comforting presence and sweet, brown eyes that hold all the stars in the universe. The countless late nights he has spent looking after me when I caught the flu from a combination of lack of sleep, stress, and poor life choices. He's always been there—always been here with me, but why… Why isn’t it enough? What is missing? How can I strip this weight off my chest that suffocates me more by the day?

"Baby?" Baekhyun's warm voice caresses my ear, comforting arms tightening around me.

"What if it happens again?" Jenny's worried face flashes vividly in my mind.

The memories come pouring in, making my mouth go dry as a lump forms in my throat. It takes everything in me to drag my eyes up to meet Baekhyun's inquiring orbs, plastering on another smile. The gesture is easier to manage with every sweet kiss his soft pillows plant on my lips. His heart-fluttering touch distracts my hyperactive mind for a while.

"Damn, Riley." Chanyeol practically moans, the sampling spoon I had offered him left to dangle pre-cautiously between his fingers. "Had I known you could cook like this, I would have come soon—ah!"

"Yah," Baekhyun scowls as I take the last serving plate from the counter to the table with a bashful smile, passing the tall man clutching the back of his head. "That's my girlfriend you're talking about." He mutters, lowering his hand, voice deepening in an unfairly attractive manner. "Watch your mouth."

"Geez." The giant huffs, glaring at him under the veil of his blonde hair. "You'd think you two were married with that—okay, okay!"

"When you two are done." The over-the-top chirp of my voice catches their attention; both their eyes widening like guilty little kids caught with their hands in a cookie jar. "Dinner is ready."

"Don't let me eat it all." Jongdae drawls, throwing an arm over the back of Jenny's chair, looking at them lazily, his brown eyes glinting mischievously. "Remember what happened last time."

Baekhyun and Chanyeol scramble for their seats as if their asses have been set on fire; an unusually quiet Jongin follows behind them, carrying a plate I forgot all about.

"Thank you." I gasp, quickly making room for the forgotten dish. "Set it down here, please."

Jongin nods, setting down the plate of cucumber salad next to the servings of Bulgogi. "I'm sorry Kyungsoo couldn't make it." He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something came up at the restaurant."

"It's alright. Wanna pack a to-go plate for him?" Tilting my head, I smile in understanding at the sheepish expression on his face. "If you think he'd like my food, anyway," I joke, resting my arm on the back of my chair as I continue to face him, relieved at the familiar hint of playfulness restored in his eyes.

"Oh he's going to love it," Chanyeol insists with a pleased hum, yelping at the smack Jenny lands on his sneaky hand.

"Where are your manners, Park?" She sighs, shaking her head, fiery red curls bouncing with the motion.

"Save some for the rest of us, asshole." Jongdae grumbles, subtly eyeing the cucumber salad.

Everyone's plate already has a soft taco shell, warm from a few seconds in the microwave. The toppings are placed on top of the two tables Baekhyun and I had to push together to accommodate our guests: fresh Korean lettuce, sour cream, and other ingredients that Jenny helped me choose—especially that bowl of melted nacho-cheese Jongin keeps taking glances at.

We all look towards Baekhyun once he settles in his seat. He leans forward to reach the middle of the table, bypassing the regular bulgogi for the one drenched in a home-made sauce, spooning some on my taco shell with a chaste kiss to my cheek. "Eat up, everyone," He murmurs sweetly, tired brown eyes twinkling.

Jongdae doesn't even fake-gag with Chanyeol and Jongin, he goes straight for the cucumber salad. The fresh smell wafts in the air amongst the various meat and spices, making Baekhyun's nose crinkle adorably. I carefully brush his freshly dyed hair out of his eyes, chuckling at the pout he shoots my way. "Did you really have to make cucumber salad, baby? Cucumber?"

"One man's trash is another man's treasure, Byun," Jongdae mutters, forgoing his personal bowl to grab the whole serving. No one says a word, we just share knowing smiles. And once Chanyeol pops the cork of the expensive Dom Perignon, the real party begins.

Endless tales of embarrassing high school cafeteria incidents spill forth from Jongdae's mouth as if shame has gone out of style. The details he shares at the expense of Chanyeol's seemingly innocent public image flying out the window right along with it.

"One second this guy looked like he was taking the biggest shit of his life, and the next thing I know, Lee Naeun from 5th period Physics is crawling out from under the table, wiping spulge from her lips. Like, Chanyeol, what the actual fuck bro? Couldn't you have taken your business to the 3rd floor Janitor's closet? I think I still have the key..."

If it wasn't for Baekhyun's quick hands, I would've sprayed a mouthful of wine across the entire table.

Unfortunately, Jongin had to head out right after dinner, promising to meet up again soon before hurrying to Kyungsoo's house, two plates clutched in hand. Chanyeol decided to stick around for longer to "let his two glasses of wine wear off"—this man has the metabolism of a beast, we know why he's really here. His reason is comfortably seated next to Jenny on our striped couch, sock-clad feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Dinner was nice," Jenny smiles, sipping leisurely at her water.

"More than nice." Chanyeol boosts from our leather recliner, raising his glass, tipping his head at me. "Your food damn near tops Kyungsoo's," He pauses, brown eyes widening. "Don't tell him I said that."

"No worries," I laugh softly, hiding in the safety of Baekhyun's shoulder. He shifts towards me, finishing his wine and setting the empty glass on the coffee table before wrapping an arm around my waist, brushing his lips against my forehead in a way that leaves my heart shaking. The white loveseat we're sitting on sinks further under our joined weight, and really, there's no place I'd rather be—except our king sized bed, that is. Baekhyun's firm grip on my bare thigh isn't helping my tipsy trance in the slightest. The universe knows I'd rather be getting drunk off of him right now.

"I'm going for a smoke," Jongdae mutters, rising from the couch. He leans down to Jenny for a kiss that leaves her beaming, going to retrieve his trench coat and shoes before slipping out of the door.

Good to see them doing well; I blink in surprise, smiling teasingly her way. I'm happy for her! It really is a pleasant surprise to see Jongdae stating their relationship in such a way; an immense improvement from their past encounters of Jenny nervously seeking affection and Jongdae down-right dodging it like his life depends on it. Public displays of affection are a sweet, straightforward way to say, "hey, this person means a lot to me," or, "back off, they're mine." Which personally sets me on romantic fire. Even if it's just holding hands, it can put me in high spirits—doing it with a certain, cheeky silver-haired man is just a bonus.

Jenny winks, fanning her cheeks that match the rosy shade of her hair before tuning in to Chanyeol's loud chatter.

Soft laughter rumbles in Baekhyun's chest as he engages in the conversation. His warm palm securely holds my hand when I slip my cold palm into his warm one. He presses a kiss to the back of it, pulling a silent giggle from my lips as he smiles at me with an arched brow, squeezing our intertwined fingers.

"Riley?"

I drag my eyes up to Jenny who's loosening her red curls by running her fingers through them. "Yeah?"

"Jongdae's not answering his cell," She murmurs with a worried frown. "Can you go check on him, please?"

And why can't you do it? — Or come with me for that matter? I raise a brow, getting up from the chair and Baekhyun's warmth with a silent sigh. "Okay. I'll be back." If I get kidnapped or spooked by some random asshole, she'll never hear the end of it. I really should ask Baekhyun to teach me a thing or two about hakipdo though.

Jenny beams, a peculiar twinkle in her eye, clasping my hand between hers. "Thank you!"

Uh-huh... I try not to eye her too warily.

"Take my coat, baby," Baekhyun murmurs, kissing the side of my wrist. "It's cold out."

"O-Okay." I clear my throat, pointedly avoiding the smug smiles of the other two in the room while walking over to the coat hanger.

Slipping on his brown, cinnamon-scented coat brings a giddy smile to lips—one I'm quick to hide in the soft fabric.

I slide on my boots before making my way to the elevator, not up for taking the 4 levels of stairs this late at night. Thankfully, that nosy neighbor down the hall isn't meeting me at the elevator tonight on one of his various late-night escapades. I've had enough awkward encounters with his lovers to last me a lifetime.

The lobby is empty except for a lone security guard who waves my way, face lit up in familiarity. Smiling back, I step out the crystal-clean glass doors of the building into the quiet night, quickly finding the man I'm looking for standing at the edge of the sidewalk. "Jongdae."

"Huh?" He looks over his shoulder, turning halfway at the sight of me, pulling a joint from his lips.

"You alright?" I pull Baekhyun's coat tighter around me, resisting the urge to shiver in the icy wind. "Jenny was looking for you."

"Looking for-" He chuckles, brown hair ruffling as he throws his head back in laughter. "Girl, please. I was instructed to come down here 5 minutes ago." He continues, inhaling deeply from the stick between his fingertips. "She ain't looking for me, she's looking for a way for them to chat privately and to make us talk..." He sighs, looking over at me. "I'm not exactly the best company for deep shit."

"O-kay then," I mumble, more than a little peeved, ready to turn on my heel in any direction other than stay here.

"Let's talk." He shrugs, exhaling smoke into the frosty air. I shoot him a wary look, barely taking a step in his direction. "I said let's talk, not have a screaming match." He mutters, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. "Why you all the way over there?" He follows my gaze to the stick between his fingers. "What? This?" He scoffs, smirking. "It's a joint, worst thing you'll get is the munchies."

Crinkling my nose, I take a couple more steps closer anyway, standing beside him, keeping a respectful distance between us.

"Listen." He sighs, taking another drag. "I know I've done some things that… I didn't necessarily have to do." He glances at me for a moment, and then faces the street lights. "Bros before hoes, you know?"

Yeah, I inwardly roll my eyes, focusing on a lonely snowflake evaporating before it reaches the ground. There's a lot to be said over people doing things that they didn't necessarily have to do. If I had a dime for every sleepless night I've had because of Jongdae's shameless mouth, I wouldn't be paying off my student loans anymore.

"Look." Jongdae takes one last drag, crushing the joint under his worn-out winter boots. "The way he is now is much better than the Baekhyun we knew back then." He nods a little to himself, meeting my gaze. "Still can't see why he decided to change his ways for you...but oh well." He mutters, lips quirking into a playful smirk at my small smile before facing the city lights again. Festival lamp-shaped snowflakes attached to the top of every streetlight beam against the dim backdrop of empty downtown buildings, prepared for the coming holidays. "You're alright for a best friend stealer."

A laugh escapes before I can slap my hands over my mouth, meeting his eye nervously only for us to both end up laughing; our amusement echoing loudly through the quiet night.

"Riley?" Jenny's confused voice peeps up, red curls rebelling against the hood of her fluffy white coat.

"Over here!" I cup my hand around my mouth, waving to get her attention.

She turns towards us, rounding the corner with quick strides. "There you are! I thought you got grabbed or something." She fusses, resting a hand on my arm, leaning closer to whisper in my ear, "Especially you. Baekhyun was two seconds from hunting you down with my head on his mantle."

"Jenny!" I snort, accepting her tight hug, my voice muffled in her puffy coat. "It kinda would be your fault though."

"I know!" She exclaims, viewing me from an arm's length away. "I was sweating out my hair."

"Baby?" That unmistakable honey voice calls. A head of fluffy silver locks and brown eyes peek around the building, catching light in the streetlights.

"Here, B," I soothe, chuckling as he speeds over to us, gathering me in his arms without hesitation.

"I thought I lost you," He mutters, hiding in my hair.

"She was gone for ten minutes," Jongdae deadpans.

"Ten minutes too long!" He pulls back to glare over at the brunet, hugging me to his chest with cheeks too rosy to be merely from a few moments out in the cold.

"Just how much of that wine did you drink?.." I narrow my eyes, cupping his flushed cheeks.

"Good thing you only bought one bottle," Jenny laughs nervously, slowly gravitating to shelter behind Jongdae's taller form.

"Enough to miss you." Baekhyun's breath leaves goosebumps on my chilled skin, his soft lips brushing my ear.

"Al-right, time to go before the lovebirds start mating." Jongdae grumbles, wrapping an arm around Jenny's beaming form. Their matching smirks have me scurrying to direct my tipsy boyfriend back towards our apartment.

"Uh—okay! See you guys next time!" I laugh to mask my burning face, gently pushing Baekhyun into the building.

"Goodnight! Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jenny sing-songs, the smugness clear in her tone.

"Can't make any promises!" Baekhyun proclaims over his shoulder, much to my embarrassment. Thankfully he quiets down once we reach the elevator, but based on the wide eyed security guard, the damage has already been done.

Can the frozen ground just please open up and swallow me whole?

The view of this busy street differs from all the other times I've walked down it with Baekhyun by my side. Maybe because it's been almost 2 years since I've moved to this city, or that new boutique being set up at the end of the road. Whatever the case, the air is different—crisper, cleaner. Refreshing as I briskly walk to my destination, wanting to avoid being out in the cold as much as possible. The weather here is so much colder in the middle of December compared to how flowers were still budding around this time outside of my childhood home.

Humming a song that's been stuck in my head for days with my car keys spinning around my finger, I stroll into Privé Alliance's building, admiring the latest clothing line pictures hung up along the walls and waving to the new receptionist while making my way to the elevator. Many men and women in business attire are all over the place as per usual during the busiest months of the year. However, once I make it out of the crowd of chattering employees, the sight of a familiar face waiting in front of the elevator brings a smile to my face. "Kyungsoo!"

The short-haired man turns around. "Hello, Riley." He nods with a small smile as we step inside the open doors, pressing the buttons to the 5th and top floor. "Lunch date?"

"Hmm?.." Blinking a few times, I follow his gaze to the picnic basket clutched in my hand. "Oh! Yes." I chuckle, smoothing down my hair. "Sorry." Between nearly slipping on a patch of ice on the way over here and the pretty lights decorated all over the city, I've forgotten the reason I left our fridge in a disarray this morning. Who decided to store the sandwich meats at the back of the refrigerator? I know Baekhyun loves my home cooking, but damn, man, let me have a break too.

"It's alright." Kyungsoo chuckles, arching a brow. "Hopefully you can get him to relax."

"Relax? Coming from you!?" I gasp sarcastically, covering my mouth with wide eyes.

"Only because he's seconds away from firing half the 3rd floor." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, yet an apologetic smile forms on his face. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the gathering." He clears his throat while facing forward again, straightening his suit.

"It's alright," I smile, resisting the urge to chuckle at his flustered state, checking my outfit in the elevator's reflection. It may be a chilling 40 degrees—4 in celsius—but I can spare the warmth of my legs for a 2 minute walk from Privé's parking lot. No weather can tell me what I can and can't wear. If I want to rock a pencil skirt on the coldest day of the week, so be it! Plus, these two-inch heels couldn't be left behind. I can't show up at Baekhyun's workplace with the poor fashion choices I subject him to at home, so we're going, coolness over comfort.

"Life happens," I mumble, tucking rebellious locks of hair behind my ear. "I'm just glad you're doing okay." The smile that forms on his heart-shaped lips when I take a glance at him makes me beam back.

"I'll stop by sometime this week." He hums, black dress shoes tapping on the floor. "I just finished a new recipe."

"Recipe?" I blink, mildly intrigued, mentally running over the list of food I'm carrying for the 3rd time today.

"Fried ice cream cake," He smirks, nonchalantly checking his watch.

"Fried-" My jaw damn near drops to the floor. Fried? Fried!? The one ice cream Baekhyun banned me from attempting myself after burning my hand while frying fish a few days ago?! Which Baekhyun is half to blame, by the way—never sneak up on someone over a popping frying pan. It never ends well. Besides that, it also was the day I truly realized the stamina that man possesses. I have never seen someone react so quickly to shove my hand under ice-cold water in my life.

Searching for any cameras in the elevator, I step a little closer to the short-haired man, whispering discreetly behind my hand, "W-Will you bring me some?"

"The prettiest one," He promises, softly patting my shoulder, chuckling at the star-struck expression written all over my face. "This is me, I'm afraid."

"Huh?" I blink into focus, shocked to be on the 5th floor so soon. What the heck. What is it about elevator rides with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo that make them go by lightning-fast compared to the stifling, tension-filled ones with Jongdae? If you can read a room, it truly makes a difference. "Oh, don't let me keep you." I give a little wave, balancing the picnic basket on my forearm. "See you later!"

Kyungsoo nods, smiling with a wave of his own as the double doors close. It is at that moment that I freeze, recalling how Baekhyun mentioned he hired a new secretary a few weeks back. Well... shit—how do I explain why I'm arriving at his floor unannounced on a random Tuesday afternoon?

Do his employees even know we are dating?.. A small part of me doubts it. Why do I care? Oh, right—I fucking live with him!

By some miracle, no one is occupying the neatly arranged desk when the elevator opens on the top floor, saving me from the completely rushed explanation I have no idea how to even put into words. All that lies before me is an undisturbed walk to Baekhyun's office, the intimidating black door slightly ajar. I slip off my heels, rushing out of the elevator on sock-clad feet before the doors close. Baekhyun's businessman voice filters through the quiet air. He must be on the phone.

Shuffling as quietly as possible down the hallway, I peek into his office. My eyes quickly find his broad form leaning a hip against his executive desk, a phone pressed to his ear as he faces the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the heart of Seoul. Impeccably dressed in a wrinkle-free, white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up. His black blazer thrown over the back of his chair. Like always, the splashes of color in every corner of the room have my lips curling up, but I have to muffle a small giggle at the sight of a thin pink measuring tape hanging around his neck.

I slowly inch closer, discarding my coat and setting down the basket in one of the leather chairs. Smoothing my flower-patterned, white button-down shirt, I silently approach him, gently covering his eyes once he ends the call. "Guess who~"

Baekhyun stiffens for a moment before swiftly turning around, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up, setting me down on his desk. He cups my cheeks in his warm palms, crashing his lips to mine before I can make a sound. "Thank god, it's you." He breathes, warm fingers sliding into my hair.

"W-Well—hello to you too." I barely manage to get out between his feverous kisses, making a noise in surprise when he pulls me flush to his chest. "What is it?" I ask softly, noticing the bothered look on his face; carefully running my fingers through his styled hair as he hides in my neck. "Another long day?"

"You have no idea." He sighs, looking up at me. "I was 2 seconds away from losing it."

"Don't-" I pause, thinking about it. A few memories of last week flash through my mind. "Well, you are kind of hot when you're angry..." In the proper context.

Baekhyun perks up, exhausted brown eyes regaining their sparkle. "Really?"

I hum to appease his hopeful expression, yelping when he pulls me into his arms, not expecting to be carried up from the desk so suddenly.

"Come here," He murmurs, walking around to sit in his chair, setting me on his lap. "I need strength to get through these reports."

Gently playing with his hair to calm down my racing heart, I tilt my head, "Do you have time for a lunch break?"

Baekhyun hums distractedly, kissing my forehead, holding me closer to his firm chest. "We can order in a little later."

Kyungsoo's words come back to mind while I watch Baekhyun continue to click around his computer, brown eyes squinted and brows furrowing more by the minute. I inwardly cringe at the move I'm about to pull, but… Our sandwiches' lifespan is ticking away. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"But…" I pout, resting my hands flat on his chest, widening my eyes for effect as his focused orbs shift to meet mine. "But I made it."

"Let's eat now then," Baekhyun smiles, his steady gaze flickering all over my person. I swear I just witnessed his pupils dilating right before my very eyes. "Give me 5 minutes."

My lips quirk up, "One-"

"I'll set a timer." He laughs, shaking his head, reaching for his phone between his bright screen laptop and desktop PC.

Smiling in victory, I stretch across the desk to retrieve the basket, peeking at his computer accidentally. "Holy shit, is that Melody Hudson?" I straighten up, focusing on the magazine cover opened up on a famous website. "The model?" My eyes widen in awe of her tall blonde form modeling a stunning royal blue summer dress; the color bringing out the blue in her shining eyes. I place the basket on a clear spot on Baekhyun's crowded desk before rubbing his stiff shoulders. He must still be tense from work. "She's so pretty."

Baekhyun hums, placing a hand on my cheek. His gentle caress coaxes my eyes back to his. "But you're beautiful," He whispers, resting his forehead on mine, brushing a thumb over my lips.

There's nowhere to hide the red hue that springs onto my face, making him chuckle as I quickly turn back to start taking out our food.

"Would you like to accompany me to a photoshoot?" The tentative tone of his voice has me raising a brow.

"Sure!" Handing him his sandwich, I press a kiss to his cheek, carefully unwrapping my homemade fries. "I'd love to see you work behind the scenes."

"Actually..."

I look at him, mid-bite of my toasted turkey sandwich.

"I'll be in the scenes," He drops, soft lips quirking a boyish grin.

My grip on my sandwich rips a hole in the middle while preventing it from falling out of my hands. "I…"—Behind the scenes witnessing Baekhyun modeling?? With his god-tier body and knee-weakening smirks that have me crumbling from beyond a screen alone? Hell to the mother fucking yes! "O-Okay."

Baekhyun's brown orbs twinkle knowingly, an amused smile forming on his lips as he presses them to mine. "Great."

It's impossible to mask my excitement while slipping into the passenger seat of Baekhyun's Audi. The beautiful red highlights around the black interior never fail to leave my jaw dropped in awe, fingertips tempted to graze over every surface. I'd like to think a person's dream car matches their owner, and there's no denying how devilishly divine my boyfriend looks settling into the driver's seat.

Baekhyun's simple, black button-down shirt and matching jeans have me inwardly salivating—I don't even have the slightest clue of why he's going to a photoshoot today. Privé? A cover for a magazine? Possibilities are endless, but not just anyone can request an hour of his time during one of the busiest months of the year.

"Are you ready?" Baekhyun glances over at me, his unstyled hair tucked under a Privé corduroy camel baseball cap that I haven't quite seen before.

"Yes," I beam at him, tilting my head curiously. "Is that hat new? I don't think I've seen it before."

Baekhyun smirks, brown eyes glinting mischievously as he straps on his seatbelt. "Maybe." He rests a hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh, backing out of his designated parking space. "Hold on tight, baby. You're in for a long ride."

I blink, having no clue what kind of ride he means. When it comes to Baekhyun, you never know what you're getting yourself into, but you never really have to worry about it either. If I hadn't known him for a few years, I would have bugged him to tell me where we're going for the entire ride. But with a few years under our belt—and some long months spent sharing a close-knitted home—I can comfortably sit back and relax for the whole journey, because there is no Baekhyun without one.

•••

The parking lot outside of the building is relatively calm, with only a few staff members bringing in materials from their cars. Inside of the place, however, is a complete madhouse. Everyone is speed-walking to various rooms and popping up from behind every corner. Not a drop of silence in the heavily populated area.

"There's our man of the hour!" A tall, aged man steps forward to shake Baekhyun's hand, carefully cradling a camera strapped around his neck. "So glad you could make it. I hope we are not taking up too much of your time?" He inquires, pushing glasses further up his nose, glancing over at me.

"Oh no, of course not!" Baekhyun shakes his head, shifting closer to wrap an arm around my waist. "I invited my girlfriend to accompany me today." He clears his throat, reddening cheeks caught under the harsh spotlights. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," The man reassures, gesturing towards a staff member who quickly brings over a grey single-seat sofa. "The more the merrier. Here you go, Madam. Is the chair to your liking?"

"Yes, thank you," I smile, trying not to stutter, brushing my fingertips over Baekhyun's warm palm before taking a seat. He shoots me a little bashful grin as the photographer whisks him away, a team of stylists directing him to a chair on the opposite side of the room. It's amusing to see so many people fussing over his hair, pulling out hairspray, and presenting him with simple yet sexy articles of clothing.

A few other models are walking around in the same attire, giving off a cool vibe of the newest clothing line, but when Baekhyun steps out of a dressing room…

Holy shit.

No, seriously holy shit!

Baekhyun walks into the room, standing against a wall as stylists comb his hair over to the left side of his face, using sprites of hairspray to tuck the right side behind his ear. As if he doesn't look dangerous enough adorning a leather jacket, a black shirt with white scribbles I can barely make out from this distance, and camel pants with unique, black low-platinum shoes.

The staff directs him over to the area with a gray backdrop, lights and cameras focused all over the place. Baekhyun practically glides over there, oozing with that stunning Ceo confidence. At a closer look, I can make out the pretty image of open and outstretched hands in the white lines at the bottom of his shirt. The intriguing detail has my full attention until I feel a persistent stare.

I lift my eyes higher to meet Baekhyun's dark brown orbs—from me sitting in the back of the room or getting into character; I have no idea. Suddenly my red knitted sweater is a bit too warm despite not being in front of any bright lights. Just when I think it can't get any worse, the photographer announces that it's time to begin.

If I had known what I agreed to the other day, I would have been more prepared—or so I'd like to think. I mean, how does one prepare their feelings for watching their unfairly attractive, multi-millionaire boyfriend pose for the camera as if moments away from sweeping them off of their feet!? And not in a sweet way either. Nah, ain't nothing innocent about the lethal expression swirling within his dark brown orbs. Especially while they are pointed right at me.

The hairstyle they gave him just makes my situation worse. How am I supposed to sit still with this man gazing so intensely into the "camera"? Is this really the same drowsy Baekhyun who I have to wake up every Sunday morning? Where did his tiredness go? There ain't nothing exhausted about the way he is staring at me! And when they bring out a chair for him to sit on… No. Hell no. That's it.

Draping my sweater over the back of my chair has his covered lips curling up at the corners, I just fucking know it.

After a few more camera flashes, the stylists are back with a new outfit in tow, gesturing for Baekhyun to change. However, right as he is turning down the short hallway leading to the dressing room, someone comes rushing into the building.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" A petite woman with a French accent flies into the hall. "Traffic was-" She skids to a halt, staring at Baekhyun as if she's seen a ghost, her brown wavy hair mid-loop of making a bun. For a long moment, nobody says a word, and then she's on the move, crossing the short distance within two furious strides.

Her slap echoes across the tall walls.

"To think I waited for you." She grits out between heated spews of French. Her gray eyes brimmed with tears shoot daggers into Baekhyun's wide-eyed ones. "To think I held onto the fact that maybe you actually cared." Her whole body shakes as staff members rush over to restrain her, calling her name over her loud obscenities in an attempt to calm her down, trying to pull her away from him before she can jump him. It takes three men to drag her back out of the building. A woman from the small crowd quickly follows, dropping a blue clipboard in her haste. We hear her panicked voice a split second before the door slams shut behind them.

I don't know when or how it happens, but I'm already on the other side of the room, reaching out for a stunned Baekhyun being fussed over by stylists. "Baekhyun?" My eyes flicker all over his shock-stricken face once they move out of the way for me. A lump forms in my throat at the look in his eyes. "B," I tentatively place my hand over his frozen one on his cheek, the red handprint visible between his fingers. "Baekhyun!"

He flinches, shaky pupils focusing on me. "Y-Yes?"

"Are you okay?" Emotions grip at my throat, making it hard to speak while my eyes keep shifting between his alarmed ones and his steadily bruising cheek. I take the ice pack a staff member hands over without a word, gently brushing his hand away to hold it to his face. "Come here."

Baekhyun silently follows me to the dressing room, seemingly in a daze as stylists vacate the room, closing the door on their way out. I lead him over to a swivel chair in front of a white vanity table, letting him settle before speaking. "What was that?"

"What was what?" He mumbles, breaking my heart at the sight of him pressing ice to his swelling cheek.

"You know what I'm talking about." Crossing my arms, I continue staring him down. "Who was that woman, Baekhyun? Why did she hit you?"

"I'll tell you later, baby." He avoids my eye and his reflection in the mirror, getting up from the chair. "Let's wrap this photoshoot up, hmm? Then we'll go home-"

Stumbling to reach the door before he does, I block his escape, looking into his conflicted eyes. "I'm not letting you leave this room until you answer me."

His lips twitch, "Baby-"

I cross my arms despite my racing heart, my stomach twisting in an ignored warning. "I need answers-"

"For fuck's sake, Riley!" He thunders, startling me so much I slam the back of my head on the doorframe. "Out of my fucking way."

I step aside without another word, turning my head away as he storms out of the room. The slamming door left in his wake has my heart jumping into my throat. Anxiety grips at my chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe. I latch onto a Privé clothing rack, holding onto it for stability.

Baekhyun's tone on the other side of the door is much calmer while talking to one of the staff. I wait for a few minutes, resting against the clothing rack until his voice drifts away; the loud taps of his shoes fading into the distance. No matter how far away he is—most likely continuing on with the photoshoot by the faint clicks of a camera echoing around the quiet building—I don't… I can't; I won't go back out there to watch him. No, not after that. I'm sure everyone in the vicinity heard what just happened.

Slipping out of the room, I gasp when I bump into someone else, my heart beating so hard it hurts to breathe. Could this day get any worse? Seriously? "I'm so sorry."

"You're fine," The same staff member I heard minutes ago with Baekhyun shakes her head, smiling in sympathy. "Tough morning, huh?"

I can only manage a deep exhale, nodding, "I guess you could say that, u-um—" I'm losing the battle against the sting steadily building behind my eyes. "Do you know where the bathroom is by any chance?"

"Just around the corner," She nods, pointing farther down the hallway. "First door on your left."

"Thank you," I breathe, hurrying down the hall. Before I can pass by her, however, I notice her angrily marking out a name with a black sharpie from the same blue clipboard that clattered to the floor earlier.

Nicole. The woman they dragged out earlier…

With tears finally breaking free from my sore eyes, I couldn't have reached the bathroom fast enough.

To my relief, the room is empty. Nothing but painfully bright lights and the porcelain floors to witness my current state. I walk up to the sinks with a shaky sigh, splattering cold water on my face. My reflection isn't a pretty sight to behold when I look into the mirror, bracing my hands on the countertop as I take in the streaks of mascara running down my face. The one day I decide to wear a non-fool-proof kind and this is what I get?

Sighing, I turn to lean my back against the counter, crossing my arms. The photoshoot is back in full swing with all the compliments the photographer is showering Baekhyun in. It's pretty pathetic of me to hide out in this ice-cold bathroom, but I rather shiver for a few minutes than face him right now. Something about the way he reacted earlier... To that woman, to me—doesn't feel right. Maybe I pushed him too far? I just… Do I not have the right to know who just slapped the hell out of my boyfriend? Hell yeah, I'll admit I want to know who she is because he's mine and she was acting as if she was waiting forever for him to recuperate her feelings, but it's not just about that. No—Nah. The deer in headlights expression on his face as her hand collided with his cheek will not leave my mind.

Whatever it is, whatever just transpired in front of me; something is off and I rather be out the line of fire while trying to figure it out.

"To think I waited for you" For what? For when? With the way things are going, I might never know the answer.

The lack of chatter filtering through the echoing walls of the room catches my attention. I tentatively peek out of the bathroom, stepping back into the hallway at the uncharacteristically quiet state of the building. Is the shoot over already? Pushing past my dimly lit surroundings, I head back to the dressing room, hesitantly standing in the open doorway. I'm confused to not find Baekhyun there, or in the main area when I poke my head over the edge of the short hallway.

"Excuse me?" I approach the nearest stylist, moving out the way of another one clumsily carrying out articles of clothing. "Have you seen Baekhyun?"

She shakes her head with a pop of her minty gum, giving me a solemn look. "Last I saw of him, he was on his way to the men's room on the other side of the building."

"Ah..." Dread fills my stomach, and something tells me that I rather not find out why. "Thank you," I murmur in passing, quickly making my way back out of the room, speeding down to the opposite hallway. The possibility that I got left behind in an unfamiliar part of the city twists my stomach into knots until I round the corner. I stumble to a halt, sucking in a breath. My heart breaks at the sight—and then the rage kicks in.

Baekhyun's broad form in his partially unbuttoned black shirt braces himself against the wall, looming over a model. Her hand is in his hair and their lips interlocked in an intimate kiss. The sight has my blood boiling—nah, it's turning into fucking lava.

"Wow." I bark out a laugh, loud and hollow, positively seething as he jumps back from her as if burned. "If you were going to cheat, you could have at least had the decency to do it behind my back." The smirk that forms on my lips is the worst kind, the ugliest kind, the kind that has fear flickering in Baekhyun's wide brown eyes. "Or was this your intention all along?"

"R-Riley-" He stares like a deer in headlights, hurrying over to me, smearing her red lipstick over his lips in his haste to rub it off with the back of his hand. "Baby, please keep it down. I can explain-"

"Nah," I shake my head, looking at him in disdain. Just the sight of him right now has me heating up with anger. I'm seeing red as the model smirks at me from over his shoulder. That bitch. "This is explanation enough." I spin on my heel before I do something I won't regret in the slightest, just for his sake.

Baekhyun's dress shoes tapping frantically behind me as I storm back into the main hall.

"Riley, baby." His grip on my wrist throws me over the edge. "Please-"

"What were you doing, huh?" A snarl forms on my face as I whirl back around, meeting his pleading eyes. "Gonna show her your failed attempts at lasting for longer than a minute?"

Everyone in the room pauses. The photographer almost drops his prized camera.

Baekhyun's face grows progressively red, and if it wasn't for the rage burning in my own veins, I'd be concerned about the vibrant hue going up to his ears right now. Just like his mishap a few days ago that would normally be insignificant, it was his grave mistake. The key that I used to fuel the fire to the flame in the most torturous of ways... Have I hit a nerve, Hyunnie?

His grip tightens on my wrist. "We," He barely gets out in an angered growl of his own, "Are leav-"

"Get your filthy-" I hiss, snatching my wrist out of his grasp, "Paws off of me." I grab my sweater on my way out, exiting the building without looking back. The bite of the cold wintry air is a relief for my heated skin. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I drove." He says through clenched teeth, hot on my heels.

"And I'm walking." I bite back, walking past the car as he climbs into the driver's seat.

"Riley!" Baekhyun bellows, putting the Audi in gear and slowly following me out of the parking lot. "Get in the fucking car!"

I cross my arms, scoffing out a laugh. It doesn't matter where the hell I am, I'm not getting back in that car with him. Bringing me all the way out here just to pull that shit. He can kiss my ass. I knew I shouldn't have gotten in that car with him. If I had taken my own four-seat beauty that I left back at home, I'd be halfway on the way to Jenny's by now.

Baekhyun continues to follow behind me, honking obnoxiously, attracting unwanted attention from bystanders that whisper amongst themselves. Some of them pull out their phones. What a spectacle we would make for the front cover of magazines, endlessly entertainment for all their peering eyes. Pausing for a moment to weigh my options, I step towards the Audi with a sigh, climbing in without a word to the fuming man next to me.

Baekhyun drives on, clutching onto the steering wheel with both hands. His grip is so tight his knuckles turn white. I direct my gaze out of the passenger window, avoiding him at all costs within the confines of the car. The long ride home and walk up to our apartment does nothing to ease my rage. Anger continues to thump angrily in my veins as the past two hours replay in my mind.

Baekhyun unlocks the door and holds it open for me. I walk into the apartment with a scoff, moving to tug off my boots only for my back to meet the wall, the front door closing with a startling slam.

"What was that?" Baekhyun glares at me, fire burning bright in his brown orbs. He can't exactly tower over me, but by his mannerism, he doesn't need any extra height to get his point across.

"What was that?" I mumble, peeling off my shoes, ducking under his arm to cross the other side of the room. The longer I stay in these warm clothes, the more I die from the uncomfortable heat.

"No, what the actual fuck, Riley?" He shakes his head, long strands of silver hair dangling in his fury-filled eyes. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Fine." I retort, rolling my eyes and looking at him, "Who was that woman then?"

His nostrils flare. "Really?" He bites out, laughing in disbelief. "Is that really important right now?"

I cross the room in three strides, tilting my chin up to stand nose to nose with him. "It is to me if you haven't fucking noticed."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He scoffs, stepping back. A cruel smile curls on his lips. "What should I do? I haven't paid Riley enough attention." All traces of humor leave his features, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. Baekhyun leans in again, his voice lowering into an angered growl. "Maybe if you weren't wetting yourself over me all morning, you'd figure it out."

I grind my teeth. "Who. Was. She?"

"For fuck-" Baekhyun reels back, his brown eyes rolling so hard into the back of his head a flicker of worry sparks in my chest before those dark orbs land on me again. "An ex-fling," he grits out. "Why does it matter?"

My hands fall limply to my sides. "Why didn't you tell me she would be there?" I ask. My voice is much quieter while I search his eyes for answers.

"What?" He scoffs, raising a brow. "How was I supposed to know she would be there?"

"Her name was on the roster-"

"I-" He shakes his head, pulling harshly on his hair. "What? Do you expect me to know the names of the women I've slept with?" A smirk quirks at his pink lips, his brown eyes so dark that his pupils have vanished in their mahogany depths. "Do you think I've kept some journal? " He purrs, grinning in delight when I shuffle uncomfortably on my feet. "Are you really that insecure?"

I stiffen. A bolt of something sinister shoots down my spine. Did this fucker just—

"Me?" I point to myself with wide eyes, laughing incredulously. "Me?.... You know, that's real fucking rich coming from you." I sneer, roughly tugging off my annoying turtleneck. What was once a reliable piece of clothing ends up torn in my fit of rage. I fling it out of my sight. Baekhyun's words loop over and over in my head. Even though I don't show it—they cut me. Deep. On a touchy subject. In a part of me I thought had died 2 years ago. He damn well knows it hurts when it's mentioned in such a menacing manner, and he still did it. For what? His weak stamina in wake of his long hours at work is suddenly the equivalent to the root of my trust issues?

My fingers curl so tightly into a fist, I can feel my nails pierce the skin. "You're one to talk." It's easier this way; keeping my back turned to him so I can mask the tears brimming my eyes. Who does he think he is? Who is he, period? How is this the same adoring man that was pursuing me the summer we met?.... It takes all my effort not to bolt for the front door—not to let my nose run or tears to stream down my face. No. I won't cry over him again. I won't let him win. Not like this.

Firm in my resolve, I take a deep breath before turning to him again. "You're not so confident, Mr. Big Shot..." My words falter at the sight of him ripping his shirt open, black buttons clattering all over the floor. "What-"

Baekhyun has me backed against the wall before I can utter another word. "Did you enjoy yourself?" He demands, holding my chin between his thumb and index finger. He peers down into my eyes; the familiar look held in his dark orbs has me quivering on the inside—and it isn't from fear. "Hmm? Did you enjoy embarrassing me earlier? Did you have your fun?"

I quickly recover. "Not my fault you don't know how to keep it in your pants."

"You wish you were in my pants." He grits out, lips curling mockingly.

There are so many things I want to throw up in his handsome face right now. So many little secrets and observations I've made over the past year that would make him falter—make him kneel. But today...

Today.

I choose violence.

Tangling my fingers in his hair, I yank on his delicate locks without remorse, pulling him into a brutal kiss of tongue and teeth. Baekhyun grunts in surprise, pressing me harder against the wall. The harsh clash of our mouths only seems to egg him on. The stinging bite he leaves on my bottom lip is nearly enough to break the skin. I don't know how long we stand there; my hands in his hair and his palms sliding down my back. There's no telling where he ends or I begin until the lack of air sinks in. His breathless puffs for air erupt goosebumps on my skin.

"Are we really doing this?" He pants, pulling away to brush his hair back. His eyes are more familiar to me now, softened by his calmer state, intense from the lust felt in his every touch.

I pause my exploration of his firm chest, arching a brow at him with a mocking grin. "Think you can last longer than a minute this time?"

Baekhyun clenches his jaw and steps away. For a moment, I worry if I pushed him too far until his lips crash back to mine. "Jump," He mutters gruffly, his grip near bruising on my ass.

"And if I don't..." The look in his eyes as he drags his dark brown eyes up to mine shuts me up entirely.

Baekhyun slowly leans closer, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. "I'll fuck you against the goddamn window." The serious expression on his face combined with the threat is damn near intimidating—and I hate how aroused it leaves me.

Baekhyun hoists me up and walks to our room with quick strides, relentlessly keeping his lips glued to mine. He pushes open the door before dropping me unceremoniously onto the mattress. His lips are back on mine before I can chastise him for the mini heart attack, his impatient hands tug at the rest of my clothes. I let him pull off my pants and hurriedly move to unclip my bra in the meantime before his rough actions can rip the expensive fabric.

Baekhyun freezes above me, brown eyes transfixed on my matching red lacy set. It may be winter, but that doesn't mean I can't dress up nicely underneath endless layers of flannel and wool. Although, when I think about what happened not too long ago... Warmth fills my cheeks and I know I'm blushing way too hard to have done this countless times with him.

"Ah." Baekhyun tsks, stopping me from covering my chest. "Take it off." He breathes, soft lips brushing over my neck. "Let me see these tits bounce for me."

My eyes widen at his crude words, a gasp escapes my parted lips when he sucks harshly on a sensitive spot on my neck, pulling down the straps of my bra at a snail's pace. The poor clothing is tossed over his shoulder without a care in the world.

I'm no stranger to Baekhyun's habit of leaving pink and red hues on my skin, but today is different—today it feels like he has something to prove by trapping my skin between his teeth, marking me as his. He doesn't stop at my neck; his restless mouth ventures lower, painting my collarbones and chest with the shape of his lips.

I grit my teeth as he reaches my breasts, determined not to let him win me over so easily. It doesn't matter how much I want to melt under his warm hands mapping out the contours of my waist or tremble in anticipation at his breath fanning over my sensitive nipples. No matter what, I will not crumble... until he does first, at least.

Yeah—easier said than done with the way he's tugging my nipple with his teeth, roughly rolling the other between his fingers. It's all fun and games until his grip tightens on my hip, his pelvis grinding mercilessly against me. A move that has my back arching clear off of the mattress. He just presses me back down to the bed, continuing to alternate between each breast, pulling away minutes later with a wet pop of his lips. He's relentless in using every weak spot of mine. As if he knows what I'm trying to do.

"Not today, baby," He murmurs to my squirming form, chuckling in my ear. I can't help but bite my lip, breath caught in my throat when his hand slides down my body. His large palm covers my clothed core entirely. If it were any other day, I'd be flustered over how true his words from earlier were; the evidence of my previous admiring and current state of euphoria clear as day to his greedy hand, tugging at my last piece of clothing.

My heart races in the realization that I'm lying under him, almost completely bare, as he remains fully clothed besides the ripped shirt clinging to his broad shoulders.

"Ah," Baekhyun smacks my hands away, flashing a grin full of devious intentions. "Don't worry your pretty little head."

He's yanking my underwear down before I can get a word in, tossing them carelessly off the bed and spreading my thighs as far as they'll go.

"Always so ready for me," He muses, spreading my folds apart with his thumbs. I stop breathing entirely when he leans down, spitting onto my pussy. "Your hungry cunt has been waiting all morning for me, hmm?"

My lack of response doesn't bother him in the slightest as he meets my eye, sliding two of his long fingers into my core so suddenly I shout, grabbing his wrist. Baekhyun just pries my fingers off of him before interlocking them with his freehand, bracing our joined hands above my head. My eyes roll back at the burn of the unexpected intrusion. It's a dull, persistent ache while he shoves his fingers deeper into my cunt. He curls them up in a way that has me shaking at the seams, tugging at his silver locks as he brings me dangerously close to the edge. Right when I'm nearing my high, he pulls his fingers out, nonchalantly sucking on them while fiddling with his belt.

I gulp, relaxing back against the sheets. I can't even be mad at this point. Our argument ended the moment I started that fiery-filled kiss, but—

Baekhyun's belt clatters to the floor and his brown eyes have never looked so fierce—so carnal, I wonder if he plans to eat me alive. What I don't expect is for him to crawl further up the bed like an actual predator hunting his prey to hover over me again; his gaze not straying from mine for a second. The warmth of his body encloses me; it's second nature to relax under him when we're like this—when we're touching the tip of the iceberg before diving headfirst into the chilly depths of our lust. Sex with Baekhyun isn't like playing with fire; it's handling dry ice with bare hands.

And being in love with him is one of the most intense and excruciating experiences of my life.

We spend so much time eye-fucking each other that I'm not prepared for the bruising kiss he pulls me into, sliding his cock into my core without a warning.

"Ah—B-Baek!"

"Hmm?" He humors, his low voice filled with lust. "Now she speaks."

"Baekhyun." I gasp when he spreads my thighs wider; the pull from the unfamiliar stretch adds to his incessant pounding—his hips seeming to snap a mile a minute. Oh, please—please don't let both of us have muscle strain tomorrow morning. I swear I've never seen him move this fast for anything. Ever. Baekhyun, what the fuck? Have you started back up on your late-night visits to the gym or something? He's reaching depths he hasn't quite reached before, hitting a spot inside my core that makes me want to cringe away and slam myself onto his cock at the same time.

I yelp out when he tilts my hips at a different angle, not meaning to scratch his back so hard in my hurry to cling onto him. Baekhyun just groans, slamming rougher into me in retaliation, his teeth firmly bite down onto my shoulder.

"Baekhyun! what the—ah—fuck!?" I nearly shriek, appalled and aroused.

Baekhyun smirks, sliding a hand down to press his thumb on my clit. "What's the matter, baby?"

"B-" I can't even say his name without stammering, shaking under him when he slows down to roll his entire body against mine. The only thing I'm capable of at this point is gripping his shoulders, throwing my head back with a loud moan. I always thought of myself as not being a fan of sweat or having any strange, warm liquids touching me, but Baekhyun... Fucking Baekhyun. His sweaty chest brushing over my nipples is making me lose my damn mind—if I was feeling any more horny and adventurous, I'd lick the salty sweat off of his neck.

"Come on." Baekhyun pants with a satisfied grin. Sweat continues to drip from his honey-toned skin, sticking silver locks to his forehead. "Tell me."

The fucker, he knows exactly what's up. It's written all over his face. A part of me doesn't want to beg—my rational side. The one chastising me for falling into bed with him again in the first place. But I don't know how much longer I can take his teasing antics, so despite my stubbornness—despite the heart aching memories creeping up on me in such an intimate moment; I press my body to his.

"Fuck me like you mean it." I pant, yanking harshly on his hair, smirking at his pained hiss until his hips undulate in a new direction. The constant stimulation on my most sensitive spots has my high sneaking up on me so quickly, I don't have time to warn him.

"Bae—!"

Baekhyun's lips crash to mine, swallowing my cry of his name as I fall over that blissful edge. His cock is the only thing on my mind amongst the ringing in my ears—in the minute-long paradise where nothing else matters but our frantic hearts racing as one.

Baekhyun lets out a telling grunt before a burst of warmth fills me up. The remains of his release drip down my thighs with his erratic, shaky thrusts. He doesn't even pull out when he's done. He just leans tiredly over me, coaxing my lips into a lazy kiss. "You're the only one for me." He whispers as if sharing the biggest secret, all rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed.

Beautiful; there's no other way to describe him—in general, in this moment. Nothing compares to his mocha brown eyes that shine brighter than a million stars when his steady gaze sets on me. Nothing compares to the safety of his warm embrace that surrounds me. Nothing could come close to the way he drives me crazy in every single way. Love. Lust. Doesn't matter. If it's with him—for him, it's...

...

Is it worth it?

The emptiness I feel when he gently pulls himself from me triggers every painful memory imaginable: my birthday, the party, our summer fight, his ex, that phone call, his photoshoot...

Baekhyun collapses beside me on the bed, completely oblivious to the war going on in my head. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close to his beating heart.

I wait for him to fall asleep, brushing damp silver locks of hair out of his eyes as his breathing slows. He looks so peaceful like that, so innocent while his face relaxes with sleep. So... So welcoming, like home.

Tears stream down my cheeks, blurring my vision of his twitching brows and pouted lips. I hope he's happy; I hope he got what he wanted.

Carefully sliding out from under his loving hold, I quietly get dressed, collect my duffle bag, and slip out of the room, holding onto the doorknob for dear life. His quiet mumbles drift through the crack of the door, tossing and turning as if already aware of my absence. I have to cover my mouth to contain my sobs.

I love him—I really do, but I...

I can't do this.

I can't take this anymore. If he won't open up to me; if he thinks I'm... I'm unworthy of knowing his past—hell, fuck that. Apparently caring too much leads to being left behind, if that encounter this morning is anything to go by.

My laughter just ends in more sobs, the salty taste of tears on my tongue more bitter with the realization that once again, I've lost.

But at what cost?

The ache in my chest and between my legs is an answer within itself—the last push I need to retrieve my car keys from the counter.

If he wants to be that way, Baekhyun... Baekhyun can do whatever the fuck he wants. What's the difference between me and all the others? What use am I? Is it because I learned how to cook? Clean? I wonder how many of those late nights at work are actually spent bent over his sketchpad. Am I his personal little stay-at-home trophy? Does it feel good to show me around important events? After today, I might as well hang up the thought of ever stepping into his world again. No one wants a possessive girlfriend in their corner of the wrestler ring. No one needs a jealous, nosy, demanding burden weighing them down. And I have my high standards as well.

I can—and will not—be one of those girls.

Not even for him.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

A/N: I can feel the pitchforks on the rise, l-listen (<.<) just trust me on this, not all is lost.... Or is it? 😇 I’ll try to finish the next part as soon as I can. *cracks fingers* let’s see what this troubled couple gets up to next.

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun romance #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fluff #Six Phases

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solinarimoon · 4 years ago

Text

A Place in This World

A/N: This is my entry for @mrsalwayswrite 350 follower challenge. Congratulations on your 350 followers! You desreve them and so many more! My prompt was for the sense of sight and old books. I focused on an OC I created that could potentially mold into a larger story. This one shot takes place during season 3 of The Last Kingdom at the nunnery in Wincelcumb.

Warnings: angsty, bastard, and abandonment.

Word count: 2219ish

A Place in This World

The rustling of Edlyn’s steps echoed along the corridor. She tried to keep her feet light and gentle as she walked, but the bare walls and cold floors captured all sounds.

Evening meal would not be served for another hour or more. Instead of waiting to be roped into helping prepare the food, Edlyn had taken her first opportunity to explore the new convent she was thrust upon.

Rounding the corner, Edlyn came up short when she saw a door ajar at the end of the hallway. Peering into the room, she saw a warm glow from the fireplace illuminating a small chamber. Lining the walls on one side, across from the fire so their spines danced in the flickering light, were shelves of books.

Without thinking, Edlyn crossed the room and ran her fingers across the dusty volumes. Slowly, her eyes rose taking in the sight of so many new stories to read. One book in particular caught her eye, near the top shelf. Edlyn glanced around to her side and saw a short stepping stool.

Carefully, she moved the stool before the shelf and climbed to reach towards the volume.

“It would be polite to inquire for permission before taking a book from our meager library, young lady.”

The sudden shock of hearing a voice, startled Edlyn. She lost her footing and stumbled off of the stool to thump into the wall, somehow managing to refrain from knocking any of the books off in the ordeal.

“I’m sorry?” she questioned once she regained her footing. She turned to face the other side of the room obscured by the open door.

“I was suggesting you ask if it is alright for you to take a book from our library.”

An elderly nun sat in a cushioned chair next to a round table. There was a large collection of pages in front of her.

Edlyn cautiously approached the woman and squinted at the writing on the pages.

The nun settled herself back into the chair and folded her rheumatic hands into her lap, allowing Edlyn to view the pages properly.

Reverently, Edlyn slid several of the pages towards herself and picked them up to bring them nearer to the firelight.

“You must be Edlyn.”

The young woman nodded wordlessly.

“And what has brought you to our convent, young Edlyn?”

Shifting her eyes to meet the nuns and then back to the papers, Edlyn replied, “I believe you already know the answer to your question.”

“I know what my abyss has told us. But despite my youthful appearance,” the crone chuckled wryly, “I am old enough to know that there is usually more than one side to stories like yours.”

Frowning, Edlyn brought the pages back to place on the table. Contemplating how best to answer, she wandered back towards the bookshelf.

“Were you told of my parentage?”

“I was,” replied the old woman.

“Well being the bastard daughter of a king does not allow for a large selection of lifestyle choices.”

“Your brother found a path that did not include confinement in a monastery.”

Shocked, Edlyn quickly turned her head to meet the woman’s sharp, birdlike eyes. Those eyes bore into Edlyn daring her to refute her words.

“Yes, he did.”

Edlyn had not expected to hear her brother mentioned, but in truth it was the second reminder of him she had since entering the room.

“Tell me,” the woman compelled Edlyn.

Edlyn sensed this particular nun was not to be ignored or contended with. Sighing, she stepped back onto the stool and reached for the book on the high shelf.

“When we were children, after our mother died, my uncle paid the church to house us and to keep us together. I’ve no doubt that he was largely influenced in this decision by our father as well.”

Edlyn stepped off the stool. Glancing around the room and seeing no other chair, she picked up the foot stool and brought it to rest beside the fire.

Taking a seat, she continued, “Osferth was always the more studious child. Being twins, you might think we would favor one another, but we could not have been more different. Even our looks did not favor each other. He is light. Light brown hair and gentle, blue eyes. And you see me before you. Hair the color of raven’s feathers and eyes stormy like the sea. He enjoyed our lessons, was courteous, respectful. He was devout and the apple of the eyes of many of the nuns.”

“And I am guessing you, young Edlyn, were not those things.”

Chuckling mildly to herself, Edlyn shook her head in reply.

“Abyss Bethylda was constantly recalling my attention back to our lessons. I have a sharp tongue and a questioning and goading nature… Or so I am told,” she shrugged.

“So I ask again, how is it I find you here, in my library at this convent? It does not seem like the life that you would choose for yourself. If I may make such a judgement after only meeting you a moment ago.”

Edlyn stared down at the book in her lap.

“This book contains stories of the viking raiders and their plunder of Northumbria?”

“It does,” answered the woman with a ponderance in her voice.

“As children, the one thing my brother and I had in common was a love for books. For stories, really. Our Uncle Leofric would visit us often. We always listened to his war stories with rapt attention. And we always found ourselves most fervently reading accounts of the northmen. Particularly the attack at Lindisfarne.”

Gazing down at the bound pages, Edlyn traced the words and found her mind returned to a moment many years past.

~~~~~~~ 10 years earlier ~~~~~~~~

“Edlyn, don’t!” Osferth exclaimed as his sister climbed on top of the table.

“Hush, you’re meant to be guarding the door, Osferth. And it’s fine. I just need to step here and then I can reach it,” Edlyn whispered harshly. The ten year old placed a foot onto the shelving encased on the wall beside the table she was currently standing on.

Osferth turned back from peering out the door and down the hallway.

“There is no one coming. Did you reach it yet?”

“Not...yet….almost,” Edlyn spoke while straining to reach her arm up higher.

“Edlyn!” Osferth whined while approaching the table. “Why don’t we just ask someone to get the book down for us?”

“Yes, why don’t you?” A deep, rumbling voice came from the doorway.

With a gasp, the young girl and her twin both turned to see who had caught them in their plot. Edlyn’s foot slipped and she shrieked as she felt herself begin to fall.

With two large strides, the man crossed the distance with the speed of a cat to snatch Edlyn before she hit the floor.

“Uncle Leofric!” Edlyn exclaimed while throwing her arms around the man's neck.

He let out a hearty laugh.

“I have missed you too, little Eadlyn.”

He placed the young girl onto her feet.

“Keeping up with your studies, Osferth?” He asked while stretching his arm out to grasp the boy's shoulder with a fond smile.

“Of course, Uncle. Abyss Bythilda suggests I should pursue becoming a scholarly priest.”

Quickly, Edlyn cut her brother off, “why would you want to do that Osferth?”

The boy turned his face down to the floor and shuffled his feet, mumbling “I never said it was what I would want. Only what the abyss suggests, Edlyn.”

“Stop giving your brother a hard time, young lady,” Leofric commanded. “Now, children, what was it you were willing to risk such daring behavior to access?” He asked while approaching the shelves.

Osferth was quick to reply, “it was the accounts of the Northmen’s raid on Lindisfarne!”

“This one up here,” Leofric asked while sliding the volume off the shelf and bringing it over to the window. He opened the tome and turned to have a seat on the bench resting underneath the window’s ledge.

The children nestled next to him as he began reading the account aloud to them.

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

Edlyn broke from her reverie to look back up at the nun. She found the woman’s own eyes studying her.

“If you had met Osferth when we were ten, you would have seen him as the one pursuing a life of God fearing obedience and prayer. Abyss Bythilda certainly thought so. But we all realized much too late that he did not want that life any more than I did, than I do. He ran away in order to pursue a different life. He left me behind.”

Edlyn spoke these final words softly, while bringing her eyes back to the book in her lap.

“And what stopped you from also leaving the safety of the church? You have a reputation for being strong and independent, young one. And it is no secret that you have refused to take the vows, becoming one of our Order. It is what has sent you to our doors from your previous nunnery. Do you intend to continue to take advantage of the church’s generosity for the rest of your life? Being a bastard but still using your royal lineage to garner room and board”

Edlyn jerked her head to meet the older woman’s gaze once more.

“You do not hold back your questions, do you old woman?”

Chuckling, the nun replied, “No I do not. I am Sister Agatha. And I would not see a soul such as yours crushed under the obedience and piety that our lord demands of his disciples. Why is it that you stay? Truly?”

Edlyn stared at the old woman, not daring to trust herself to speak. The woman’s questions cut to the core of the inner demons that Edlyn felt warring inside her head daily. Her spirit longed to follow in her twin’s footsteps. Osferth had left her. He had struck out to forge his own life. And Edlyn could not dismiss his betrayal.

She longed to lead a life that was more. More than what the church could offer. More than prayer and obedience. More than quiet contemplation and reflection. Just… more. But the truth was that Edlyn was scared. From her very birth, she had been forced to face adversity. The life of a bastard daughter of a king. She had endured the abandonment. The rejection of her father. Then the loss of her mother and being thrust upon the church. Then when her uncle was lost in battle. And finally the abandonment. Waking up to find Osferth gone.

When he left, he had placed the account of the northmen’s attack on Lindisfarne on her bedside table along with a short note.

“I can not remain here any longer.

I must make my own destiny and find my own way.

It is where God is leading me. I will miss you dear sister.

All my love,

Osferth”

Edlyn could barely make out the words in Osferths scratchy hand through the tears overwhelming her eyes. With all of the loss in her life, all of the hardship, Osferth had been hers to rely on. The twin piece of her soul that she could cling to when the rest of the world was dark and desolate.

And he had left her.

In the deepest and most secret part of her heart, Edlyn knew she was terrified to be abandoned again. It was what kept her tethered to the church. The church, despite her nature to rebel and push back on the strict and stingy rules, had always been there for Edlyn.

“You ask why I stay, Sister Agatha? Truly?”

The sister answered with an unwavering stare.

“I stay because I fear to lose myself out there. The church is my safe harbor in a world that I fear would drown me. But despite your blunt words, they ring true. I am not made to be wedded to God.”

Edlyn frowned at her hands gripping the pages of the book in her lap.

Sister Agatha considered the young woman before her for some time.

“We will see about that, young one. We have had many young women come to our halls seeking refuge and protection. And I have seen the lord call to some of them and seen him deliver many from peril. I have also seen women find their courage and forge their paths. Paths that do not lead to a life of nunnery. I realize I have just met you, young one, but your eyes speak to me of great things. We just need to find your mettle.”

Edlyn gazed at the old woman, thinking over her words.

Before she could formulate a response, Sister Agatha rose and held out her arm to the young woman.

Standing and replacing the book on its shelf, Edlyn took the older woman’s arm and the two retraced Edlyn’s previous paths to the kitchens to check on dinner.

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

Aethelflaed rode fast and hard towards Wincelcumb nunnery. Eadlyn did not know it, but the arrival of her half-sister would bring about immense upheaval in her world. And Sister Agatha’s predictions were soon to bear fruit. Eadlyn would find her courage. And she would find her family and place in this world along the way.

Tagging my usuals (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my list):

@maggiescarborough @pokeasleepingsmaug @nxrdist @mystic-shadows42 @emilyhufflepufftlk @magravenwrites @lauwrite1225 @morosemagick @thebohemianpenguin @mrsalwayswrite @notyourwildestdream @obipoelover @ecarroll1978 @93xdiagonxalley @nobodys-business-world

If you would like to read more of my works, you may do so here

#The Last Kingdom #mz350celebration #osferth #should I make this more than a oneshot?#leofric

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fakeloveaskblog · 3 years ago

Note

aw, sweet loceit in the evening sun. logan is actually super good at explaining healthy relationships and boundaries and stuff actually, i betcha he could recognize abuse no problem

…aye remy! REMY!! HAve you thought about going to that gay bar more often? who knows, maybe you'll encounter someone nice, make friends with like-minded people, hear some disco, the full nine yards. janus might be there, remus might be there. (just look around for the guy with the blue tie, he's a great guy, if he's not wearing it he'll look like he has that blue tie kinda energy! you could totally just get drunk and unload your grievances on him and i bet he won't even mind!)

(Mentions of U!Virgil but I say beforehand when that happens so those who don’t like U!Virgil can enjoy the rest of the fic up until then)

(Words: 4100)

Remy wiped away a tear while looking at your message. The cold light from their phone was the only thing brightening up the room. Virgil was sleeping beside them, his arm was laid around their waist.

"You just like tots gave me the greatest idea! I'm gonna invite Rem out to the bar! It's gonna the funnest thing like ever! Thanks girl!!"

2 days later Remus was dangerously close to eating the moss straight from the gay bar's wall. He had been left without supervision for over 15 minutes while he sat outside waiting for his friend to show up, what else was he supposed to do?!

"SSSSUUUP BABE!!!"

Remy came towards him as fast as they could. They had on a short leather skirt, a neon mesh crop top and a leather jacket over it.

They did a little turn "I just like felt a bit glamorous today!"

Remus choked on his own spit "The world must be a dark place when you aren't feeling glamorous"

"Awwww babbbe"

He sent them a big grin. He'd just put on his usual oversized dysphoria hoodie and matching oversized (:O) sweatpants.

Remus' smile disappeared in an instant as he noticed dark bruises all around Remy's neck. Shades of purple and green collided against each other.

"Ehm did a vampire come and attack you last night? Seriously are you alri-"

"JUst a reminder that it will be loud in there" Remy interrupted.

"Oh. Right!"

He fumbled around in his bag after his headphones. After putting it and a chew necklace on he did a thumbs up. Remy took off their sunglasses and leaned down so they were face to face.

Their face was so close he could feel their breathe against his lips. They put the sunglasses onto him and sent him a soft smile.

“There’s like lots of bright lights too” They explained.

Remus’ heart fluttered. He didn’t understand why “T-thanks”

They moved their arm around his shoulders as they went into the bar. It was past 12 am so some of the daytime furniture had been moved to make place for a dancefloor. There was indeed lots of neon lights flickering all around the bar and fast pop music was blasting through the speakers.

It was hard to see any details of anyone around him so Remus quickly forgot about the bruise. In this lighting it just looked like a weird choker anyway.

A guy with a see through shirt bumped into Remus. He had top surgery scars. For a moment they looked at each other in the most knowing way. The stranger looked away and continued talking with whoever he was with.

Remus whole body seemed to vibrate. There were so many butterflies in his stomach it felt like he was going to puke, in a good way.

Remy sat him down on one of the tall barstools and slumped down right next to him “So whatcha gonna drink?”

“The squashed down organs of my enemies!!!” He shrugged “Soda?”

They burst out into laughter “What? You catholic or something? Not allowed to drink alcohol?”

He slumped in on himself and started fiddling with his necklace “I-I dunno-”

“No. No babe I was just like joking. Like a stupid bitch. It’s okay” They waved at the waiter “Your most alcoholic fruit mix and your finest coca cola please!”

Remus leaned in to whisper “With salt”

“With salt? Please!”

He kept vibrating like an overexcited weasel. After getting their drinks he kept tapping the glass to stim some of the happiness out.

“Honestly I’ve never been to a gay bar before. I’m digging it. Just like how I’m digging graves”

They playfully hit his shoulder “Then I’m tots gonna try my best to make this the ultimate first gay bar experience! I can’t think of any other lil fucked up gremlin buddy I would wanna have by my side!”

"Muhahah!! I am officially assigned ultimate gremlin buddy-”

“Greetings” A voice suddenly came from behind them.

Both of them flinched away. Remy let out a short yell and Remus was close to throwing his drink in the person’s face when he saw it was just Logan.

He had on jeans and a black button up with the top button unbottoned. He had with him iced coffee from starbucks because he had to drive home later.

“LOGIE!!!” Remy threw their arms around his neck to pull him closer “Babe this is the Log-legend. Once he was like sooo drunk so when he like tried to kiss me puked on my shoes instead!”

Logan grimaced “I am still very sorry about that”

“Oh I already know him through Janus” Remus replied.

“Oh my gawd babe” Remy looked between them all “So like we all know Janny?! Wig! Sad he isn’t here then”

Remus held up his cola “Cheers to J-anus!” The other two held up their glasses in agreement.

“Cheers”

“Cheerio!”

“He is very pretty and charming and cute” Logan dreamily sighed. He stopped himself from continuing to say compliments.

“Yeah” The other two sighed back in unison.

Logan sat down on a chair next to them. Remy looked around the bar before squinting at him “No Patty?”

He instantly started looking like a Very sad seal “Sadly my wife is away on a convention with her magical girl anime fanclub this whole week. I estimated that going to the bar would make me feel less lonely”

“You have a WIFe??? Like a real one???” Remus exclaimed, his eyeballs were close to popping out from surprise.

“Yes. This may be a controversial opinion but when I marry someone I prefer them to be physically real” He replied druly.

He got a smug grin on his lips “Does she peg you?”

“She does far more than just peg me”

“Nice!” His eyes went even wider “IS That a stim toy??!”

He pointed at the tangle Logan kept between his fingers “Correct. If I do not have something to relieve my focus onto I can easily go into senso- OH a chewie?”

Remus nodded while showing of his chew necklace. The two of them started rambling about their favorite stim toy. Until they went off into special interests (star trek/astronomy and art/animal biology respectively).

Soon enough Remus was showing pictures of the animal bones he’d found. Logan ooeh and ahhed at all of them before asking the most nerdy of questions (where he’d found them, their bone density, if any damage had been done to them) which only made Rem infodump which made Lo infodump which made them both happy stim.

Meanwhile Remy sat beside them completely zoned out. They got time to drink 2 more of those fruit mixes and a few shots. The room was starting to spin.

The loud music wasn’t keeping out the yelling. They dunked their forehead against the bar table and covered their ears to try and get it out. The music was supposed to keep it out! Why was nothing working! The bruise ached. Their throat closed in on itself until they couldn’t breathe.

“Remus” They gasped out. They looked over to their friend with a desperate look in their eyes. They just needed a distraction.

“So my theory for why you keep finding bones in specifically that part of the woods is because of the kind of dirt making it take longer for them to deco-” Logan was explaining while Remus nodded along.

“Rem! L-let’s like go up and dance or something. Please”

This time it caught Remus’ attention. He looked over to them “Sure- are you feeling alright? Did you drink too much? You’re looking like a mummy”

“Yes. No. I just like- Like- They’re playing Charli xcx of course we gotta like dance!!”

“I will protect your belongings then” Logan added.

Remy stumbled up on shaky legs. Remus sent them a warm smile that made them want to cry before taking their hand. He let them lead him out to the dancefloor. Honestly he was pretty nervous about it, but being with them always made some of the anxiety melt away.

They stumbled on their own feet and fell forward. Their friend took ahold of their wrists and pulled them close to his chest. Their faces were so close to each other. So so close.

He didn’t let go. They couldn't remember him ever letting them hold him this close. Their chests pressed against each other. Their arms around his shoulders. His hands on their back.

"You’re right. It is a good song. Good to crash a car too" Remus said absentmindedly.

Remy let up into shaky giggles from how sudden he’d said it “Yeah. Yeah I guess”

They kept giggling. He chuckled back. He started spinning around on the dancefloor. They moved with him. His arms wrapped closer around their waist. Their cheek leaned against the slope of his neck (even though they had to lean down to get on his height level).

Remy quietly sang along to the music which made Remus start yelling along to it. The enby threw their head back from laughter. They took his hand and intertwined their fingers.

Remus moved his hand out and spun them around before pulling them close again. Their cheeks were flushed red, his was as well. He playfully dipped them down when the song ended.

It continued on into a song neither of them knew but they kept dancing anyway. They didn’t stay as pressed close to each other but they always had some contact. Holding hands. An arm around a waist. A head leaning against a chest.

When they finally got back to the bar table they were both panting. Remy was completely leaning on Remus since their body had started to hurt, but even through the pain they were both bubbling over with so much happiness they kept breaking out into bouts of giggling.

To their surprise Logan wasn’t sitting alone. A tall person with long dark hair sat on the chair beside him. Xir hand was on his thigh. The nerd had a soft smile on his face as they leant close to talk.

“Uh Lo?” Remus had to wave his arms around to get his attention.

His head shot around to look at them “Hello” He glanced to the person “These are the ones I was protecting belongings for” He stood up and held out his hand “Shall we?” Xir took it. Logan waved at his friends before going off to the dancefloor with the stranger.

“Huh. Good for him”

“I guess”

Remy ordered another high alcohol fruit mix. Remus happily chewed on his necklace while humming along to the music. Between their chairs their hands hang with their fingers intertwined. Holding their hand had started to make Remus feel all funny in the head for some reason.

The enby watched on as Logan and the stranger danced for a bit before moving to a corner to make out. When the stranger started to lead him towards the bar’s bathrooms Remy turned to their friend.

“Yeah okay he’s not coming back for like a while. Smoke break?”

“Of course!”

They finished their drink before leaving the bar. The pair stopped right outside. Remus sat down on the side of the pavement. Remy tried to sit down but they stumbled over themself and fell flat on the ground.

Remus got up to help “Are you okay? Are you sure you haven’t drank too much?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine” They laughed out.

He sat them down on the pavement while dusting off their clothes. He patted them on the head while pouting “You should get some water”

“Naaaah babe. I’m good”

In the moonlight the bruise was visible again. That horrible dark purple bruise around their neck. It looked like it hurt.

Remus put his hand on their shoulder “Beanie are you alright? I do know it wasn’t some halloween monster that got you that bruise”

For a moment their whole body tensed, they forced a smile “It’s fine. me and my boyf just tried like some new kinky shit in the bedroom y’know. Nothing more” They lied.

They took out a cigarette pack and a lighter from their bag. They traced their thumb over Remus’ lower lip and opened his mouth just slightly. Remy leaned closer while putting a cigerette between his lips. They lit it.

Remus took a deep breathe. It’d been a while since he’d last smoked. He leaned so close the cigarette nearly touched Remy’s skin. They parced their lips as he breathed out the smoke right into their mouth.

A smile spread on their lips. He held the cigarette over to them but they shook their head. They looked around in their bag again and took out a small poppers bottle.

“Should you really take that. Won’t your brain melt out of your ears?” Remus asked “I really don’t wanna have to slorp up your brain juice...yet”

“Relax babe. It’s like not dangerous as long as I don’t like take too much and I only take when partying” It took a moment before they quietly added “And I only party when I need to get out of the apartement”

“What?”

They forced on a bigger smile “What?”

Remy moved the popper up to their nose and inhaled as much of it as they could. It took a few seconds before they let up into a giggle. It was in a higher tone than their usual bubbly laugh, it almost sounded like cackling. They could see stars.

(U!Virgil mentions from here on out)

“Y’know my boyfriend gave me like a flashback or whatever last night” They giggled while swaying from side to side.

Remus gently grabbed their shoulders and moved them to lean against him so they wouldn’t fall over “Uhu. Did you stab him?”

“No silly. He just. He’d been soooo sweet all weeek and I just I just ruined it ‘cause i like overeacted to some joke he made while like we were washing the dishes” They were barely even aware they were speaking “And like it just kept going until we were like screaming at each other”

Remy was still smiling and giggling between every word but tears started to form in their eyes. Their fingers felt numb. Bile was rising in their throat.

“And he just like threw the plate he was holding down on the ground. And it like didn’t hit me. He wasn’t even aiming at me. He was just throwing it at the ground. But it shattered and it was so stupid and overemotional and stupid and pathetic but I just I just curled up on the floor and like had a panic attack like a stupid baby”

They smeared their hand across their face to try and get the tears away. They felt sick. Remus quickly put out his cigarette, it didn’t feel like the right time to smoke.

“And I just like- Is that normal? Is that fine? Like throwing stutff like that? I-I- he’s never done it before. Or I mean like not plates” They looked up at Remus “Is it fine?”

He gulped while fiddling with his hoodie sleeve “Well uh did he apologize?”

“Mhmm. He like- like for some minutes he like kept yelling ‘cause he thought I was just like faking a panic attack to like I dunno manipulate him but then he like comforted me and like calmed me down and like held me and cuddled all night until I fell asleep and- and he said sorry a bunch of times and like he said it would never happen again. He uh usually doesn’t lie”

“Well ehm then it should be fine right? Right?” They both shrugged at each other “I mean everyone can make mistakes! And it was during an argument! Everyone does drastic things during an arguments! So it’s fine. I think”

A shaking breathe of relief left Remy’s lips. They stretched themself over his lap and he moved his arms around them. “Thanks babe. I was like tots worried for a bit but y’know i was thinking like that too. So it’s fine”

“Yeah” He combed his fingers through their hair “You do know you can vent to me whenever right? I promise I won’t gross you out with details about how to pull out rabbit teeth ever again so if I can hold that back then I can also listen to stuff! I can super listen!!”

They closed their eyes. They felt so tired. So tired and sick and horrible. “Mhm. I know babe. I know”

Remy sent him a soft smile before suddenly puking. Some of it came on his pants but mostly on the ground. Remus stood up and carefully moved them down to a sitting position.

He rubbed up and down their back with one hand and held their hair back with his other. Their shoulders were shaking and they were taking in shallow breathes between every sudden throw up.

“It’s okay beanie-boo. Breathe. Breathe. You got all the time in the world. Until the sun blows up at least”

“I-I took- too much- too much” They slurred out before lurching forward again. It seemed to stop for now.

“I’m aware” He carefully wiped away some of the puke left around their mouth with his hoodie sleeve.

They leaned back against his chest. They closed their eyes and focused on breathing. He held them so so gently. As if they would break like glass otherwise. He pressed a kiss to the top of their head.

“There you are!” Logan said as came through the bar entrance “What a relief. I assumed you had left without me because you thought my actions were unacceptable” He noticed how pale and shaky Remy looked and got a worried look on his face “Is everything alright?”

“They feel like someone has slammed a fish into their stomach. Not good” Remus replied.

“I see. I suppose it woud be best to get them home”

Logan picked Remy up with ease to carry them to his car. He was quite sure he’d carried dogs that weighted more than them. Remus anxiously followed along.

He sat them in the passenger seat. He shook their shoulders until they opened their eyes. They let out a quiet whine.

He held up 4 fingers “Remy how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Fuck yourself”

“Noted”

They moved to the side and seemed to pass out again. Logan closed the door before turning to Remus.

“Did they take anything?” He whispered.

“Only a popper”

“Good. Do you need a ri-”

“Bus”

“Okay” Logan was about to go but stopped midstep and lowered his voice even more “Oh and Rem...Could you please not ask Janus to hang out next weekend? I am planning a surprise...I hope it will make him happy”

“Good luck comrade....Please text me once Remy is home safe. Please?”

“Of course”

He did a little nod before leaving. Logan got into the car. He couldn’t stop looking at the bruise around their neck. Remy continued to sleep for most of the ride until they they were 5 minutes or so away from their apartment. They suddenly flinched awake.

“Stop the car!” They gasped out.

“Are you still feeling the same?”

“Logan stop the fucking car!” There was fear in their eyes.

Logan stopped by the side of the road. The road was barren and dark. It had to be past 3 am at least. Remy crawled back into the backseats while their whole body shook.

“Don’t. Look. At. Me”

“Sure” He stared down into the steering wheel to not accidentally see their reflection in the glass.

“I just. I just have to change clothes. I just. I don’t want Virigl to call me a whore again. I mean. He won’t. But what if. What if he gets mad. I just. I just have to change” They slurred out.

They stumbled out of the car after changing into a pair of long pants and closing their leather jacket. A cold chill went up Logan’s spine. He quickly stepped out of the car as well.

“Okay bye bye Logie!!”

They tried to move but Logan grabbed onto their shoulders. He forced back a choking feeling in his throat “What do you mean by your boyfriend getting mad?”

“Pff! It’s nothing! I’m drunk!! Byyyeeeeee”

They started to stumble away but Logan easily followed along “It did not sound like he called you a whor-...you know what...with your consent. I am simply going to remind you that calling a partner things like that is not okay. Not in any circumstance”

Remy’s expression turned cold. They walked faster “I don’t like what you’re implying”

“I’m not implying anything”

“Yes you Fucking are!”

“Exscuse me for being worried about your wellbeing. What you just said sounded like a very bad sign”

“Yeah exactly it only SOUnded bad! My boyfriend isn’t bad!” Remy snarled out.

“I am not saying he is. He doesn’t have to be bad to say awful things, as long as he changes”

They shoved their hands into their pockets. Their hands moved into fists “You don’t know a fucking thing about me. You tried to kiss me once when you were drunk and that’s all. We don’t know each other”

Logan took a deep breathe “I don’t need to know you to see red flags. Remy-” He searched for words “Remy you’re bruised. How- you can’t expect me to not get worried”

Remy suddenly stopped and turned around to meet his eyes. “MY BOYFRIEND ISN’T ABUSIVE! I-”

“I’m not necessarily saying he is. I just wan’t to talk-” His voice started to sound desperate.

They looked like a cornered animal. Tears were brimming at the edges of their eyes “YOU DON’T KNOW A THING!”

“Remy-”

“I DID THIS TO MYSELF!” Their hand went up to the bruise “I DESERVED IT! VIRGIL DIDN’T DO A FUCKING THING! I DID! I TOOK A BELT AND HURT MYSELF! OKAY?! VIRGIL CARES ABOUT ME!”

He tried to sound soothing “Remy please take a deep breathe-”

“NO! NO! YOU KNOW WHAT LOGAN?! THERE IS STILL CUM ON YOUR FUCKING LIPS FROM YOU SUCKING OFF SOME STRANGER IN A DIRTY BATHROOM! SO NO! I AM NOT TAKING LOVE ADVICE FROM SOMEONE WHO IS CHEATING ON HIS GODDAMN WIFE!”

They stormed away. For a moment Logan was frozen in place before he forced himself to run after them to try and make sure they would be okay.

“I am not-”

Remy looked at him for one last time. The look in their eyes made him feel cold. It was pure hatred.

“Logan get the fuck away from me! I am drunk and high and alone on a street with no one but you who is sure as hell fucking stronger than me and all you’re doing is spouting bullshit! So please get why I want you to leave. And why I don’t ever want you to talk to me again!”

He stopped dead in his tracks “...Right....Yes....I am so sorry”

Remy didn’t even respond. They simply turned and walked away. Logan stayed and watched to make sure they got home to the apartment safe before going back to his car.

He slumped down in the seat. His heart was racing and his thoughts were for once an illogical flurry. He sat motionless for several minutes before finally getting some semblence of an idea.

He took out his phone and dialed one of his usual numbers. It took several signals before Emile Picani picked up.

“Mhm? Logie bear? I can’t today I have clients in the morning” He yawned out.

“This is about one of your patients. I am fearing that they are in danger”

In an instant all of the sleepyness in Emile’s voice disappeared “In danger? Physical? Is it urgent? Do I need to call someone? Which patient are you even referring to?”

Logan hesitated. If Remy had reacted that strongly to him just attempting to ask about his boyfriend it was very likely that they would stop going to therapy if Emile brought it up. His throat tightened, he didn’t want to put them in any more danger.

“I....Nevermind Emile....This was just a far too gone joke...Someone dared me to call you. I am sorry. Have a good night”

He ended the call. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel and let out a long sigh. His hands held onto the wheel so hard his knuckles whitened.

Logan had no idea what to do. No idea at all. All he knew was fear. Fear for Remy’s safety. Fear for their well being. Fear that anything he did would only make their situation worse.

#mini fic #remus sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #sanders sides #remsleep #resleep #rem^2 #these sure keep getting longer huh #its past 4 am #fun

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sometimesiwritebadly · 4 years ago

Text

Paintbrush (Spencer Reid x Artist!Reader)

Summary: You’re an artist in DC, and a serial killer has started using your artwork as inspiration for his murders.

Warnings: Mentions murder (duh) but doesn’t go into detail

Notes: This is way longer than I planned lol. I based the chaotic-artist vibe that the reader has going on the tiktoker @/artistkatiesmall so y’all can watch her tik toks if you like chaotic energy and paint as much as i do. Oh also I tried to keep this gender-neutral but if there are any pronouns in here that shouldn’t be let me know and I’ll fix it!! I use she/her so sometimes it just comes naturally and i don’t notice.

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

You were in your studio, listening to music as loud as physically possible. Your art studio is like a safe haven; the only place you feel completely yourself. Right now you’re working on your latest piece. Your art style is very “splattered paint that ends up looking like something”, which your mother had told you on multiple occasions. She had meant it as an insult, but you ended up taking the term and making it your own. She’s not wrong; you typically start your pieces by throwing some paint on a canvas and letting it take you somewhere. So here you are, slapping paint on a canvas and screaming the lyrics to your favorite song.

As the painting began to take form - you hadn’t decided what it would be yet, but you’re excited with what you have - you heard some pounding that didn’t match the beat of the song. Grabbing your phone, you turned down the music, and the pounding could be heard much more clearly now. “Y/N Y/L/N! FBI!” You quickly paused the music and rushed to the door. As you opened the door, your paintbrush (still covered in paint...oops) was tucked behind your ear. At your entrance was two men, one tall and skinny, and the other older with graying hair. “Y/N?” The younger of the two asked, his voice considerably softer than when he’d yelled through your door. You only nodded, and each of the men showed you their badges before the older of the two spoke.

“I’m SSA Rossi, and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Can we come in? We need to ask you a few questions.”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” You opened the door wider now, allowing them both to step inside your small studio. “Um, sorry about the mess, I’m not exactly the most conventional artist.” You apologized. You would've offered them a seat, but you only had two chairs in the place, and they were both occupied by piles of your various art supplies. “What is this about?”

Dr. Reid held a file in his hands, which he passed over to you as he spoke. “Do you recognize any of these paintings?” You open the file to find 4 pictures of your own artwork; portraits of various different people. One short blonde woman, one ginger man with an impressive beard, and a hispanic woman with a pixie cut.

“Yeah, I painted these a while back...Why does the FBI care about some random commission artwork?”

“Someone commissioned you to do these?” Dr. Reid spoke quickly, causing you to look away from the pictures and back towards him. “Uh, yeah. He calls me every once in a while and asks for weirdly specific portraits.”

“What do you mean, weirdly specific? You don’t base your work off of pictures?” SSA Rossi asked you.

“No, he’s never given me pictures to work from. He just describes the person he wants me to paint. Like about two weeks ago,” You paused as you walked over to your cluttered desk, and grabbed your notepad, which was still open to the page you’d jotted down your notes on, “He asked for a portrait of a short, Asian man with bleach blonde hair, dark eyes, and one pierced ear.” You handed the notepad to Dr. Reid, who scanned it quickly.

“What’s his name?” He asked, before handing the notepad to his partner.

“Tanner. I don’t know his last name, he always pays with cash. What’d he do?”

The two men looked at each other briefly, before Dr. Reid spoke again, “We believe Tanner has been killing the people that you paint. He left the paintings at the crime scene.”

Your heart dropped. Not only had you been in constant contact with this psychopath, but you felt like you’d inadvertently helped him. You took his money, and he killed the people who looked like your paintings.

“I know this is shocking, but have you painted anyone else for him?”

“Uh, no, this was the most rece-” You cut yourself off, remembering something from the last time you’d spoken with Tanner. “He bought a painting of me.”

“When?” Dr. Reid asked.

“When, uh, when he picked up the last painting. I had a self-portrait sitting over there that I'd done for fun. He asked if he could have it along with the other one, he paid me extra for it-”

“What day, Y/N?” Dr. Reid placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. You felt like you might pass out.

“3 days ago.”

Again, the two agents looked at each other, and their faces didn’t make you feel any better.

“Y/N, why don’t you come with us to the police station, you’ll be safe there.” You could only nod in response letting them lead you out of the studio. Before you exited, Dr. Reid grabbed the paintbrush from behind your ear, placing it on a table before you made your way out to the car.

~~~

Sitting in the police station was like torture. First of all, you were wearing your normal painting outfit: a paint-stained t-shirt an ex had left at your place, jeans that were so ripped up you could barely call them jeans anymore, and of course, socks and sandals. The cops were either completely ignoring your presence, or asking you the same questions you’d already answered dozens of times. One top of all that, they wouldn’t let you do anything besides sit and wait. You had managed to find a paper pad and a pen, so at least your doodling could help pass the time.

You’d been at the station for over an hour already, which meant your doodle was nearly perfect; you ended up drawing one of the agents, Dr. Reid. From where you were sitting, he was in clear sight, and one of the only people who was actually sitting still enough for you to draw. And, y’know, he’s the only person you want to look at long enough for you to draw.

“Is that me?” His voice startled you; you’d been looking down at the paper and didn’t notice Dr. Reid coming towards you. You dropped the pen immediately, and moved the paper out of his sight.

“I’m sorry Doctor, I was just, y’know, bored and-” You tried to put together a sentence, but your embarrassment was getting the best of you.

“I don’t mind, I, um, think it’s kind of flattering. Can I see it?” Dr. Reid asked, and you reluctantly handed the paper over. You’d been an artist for so long, you were almost never nervous for people to see your work anymore; you have a very “if they like it, great! If they don’t, I don’t care,” kind of attitude when it comes to your artwork. But Dr. Reid was making you nervous. “You don’t have to call me Doctor by the way. Reid is fine. Or, uh, Spencer. You can call me Spencer.” He had a light blush on his face as he spoke, which calmed you a little bit. At least he’s just as nervous as you. Suddenly, as if he was snapped out of his train of thought, Spencer handed the paper back to you and cleared his throat before speaking. “We used the phone number you gave us to find Tanner, but he doesn’t have any listed addresses. Did you ever deliver paintings to him?” Behind him, another one of the agents who’d talked to you, Hotch, walked up.

“Um, no. I’d just call him whenever I finished a painting and he’d come to me.”

“Would you be willing to call him again?” Hotch asked. Your eyes widened at the idea. You’re already terrified at the notion that you may be a target for a serial killer, but calling him? Hotch must have noticed your fear, as he began to explain further, “We can track his location with a phone call, but we need some time to do it. If you’re the one speaking, he’ll probably stay on the line long enough for our technical analyst to find him.”

You took a deep breath, before nodding slowly. “Y-yeah. I can do that. Can you guys give me a minute first? I need some air.” You didn’t wait for an answer before walking out of the police station. Once you got outside, walked to the end of the building and leaned against the side wall. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply. You couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility over those people’s deaths. Tanner had taken your artwork, your passion, and ruined it.

“Are you ok?” You looked up to find Spencer standing in front of you, hands in his pockets.

“Not really.” You played with your hands as you spoke, not making eye contact.

“You feel guilty, don’t you?” He asked, as he moved to lean against the wall next to you.

“Shouldn’t you be inside? Y’know, you’ve got a serial killer to catch.”

“You know there are a lot of signs that someone feels guilty. Avoiding eye contact, changing the subject, lack of an appetite...I noticed you didn’t eat the snacks JJ got for you.” He was right, Agent Jareau had gotten you some snacks that you left untouched back in the station. When you didn’t say anything, Spencer continued, “Usually when I see people acting like this, they have good reason to be guilty. You haven’t done anything wrong, Y/N.”

“I inspired him.” When you looked up at Spencer, he gave you a confused look. “When I saw him last, when he wanted to buy that painting of me, I asked him why. He said that my artwork inspires him. If...If I hadn’t painted those people, they could still be alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But there’s a possibility, isn’t there? You can’t say for sure that he would’ve killed them anyways, can you?”

Spencer was silent for a moment, confirming your fears. Eventually, he spoke up. “He may not have killed those exact people, He would’ve killed someone. He’s already killed before.” Your eyebrows shot up at this, so Spencer kept talking, “We think we can connect him to two murders from a few years ago. If he had never used your art as part of his signature, it would’ve taken us a lot longer to find him. He may have even gotten away with it all together.” Spencer’s words did give you a little relief. You still felt bad for the way your art had been used, but it was a good reminder that you weren’t the murderer. That Tanner’s actions had nothing to do with yours.

“Thank you.” Spencer nodded in response, giving you a small smile. “I guess I have a phone call to make.”

~~~ a week later ~~~

You were back in your studio, getting ready for a new painting. Just as you placed your canvas on the easel, there was a knock on the door. When you opened it, you were surprised to find Spencer Reid on the other side. “Spencer?”

“Hi.” There was an awkward moment of silence before Spencer spoke again. “I, uh, saw your mural. It’s beautiful.” A small smile formed on your face at the mention of the mural. After you helped the BAU catch Tanner, you reached out to the family of the victims. With their permission, you painted a mural that was put up at the memorial down the road. The mural had been featured on local DC news channels, which is probably how Spencer had seen it.

“Thank you. I probably wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for you.” As you spoke, you moved over so that Spencer could enter the studio space. “Back at the police station, I wanted to quit art. Figured I’d finally put that communications degree to use or something.” Spencer lightly laughed as you continued, “But you made me realize that I can still do something good with my art.”

“I’m glad.” Spencer paused, and took a deep breath, and a step towards you, “Do you, uh, think we could go get coffee sometime? I mean, it doesn’t have to be coffee, we could get tea, or um, lemonade, we could get lemon-”

“Spencer!” You cut him off, with a light laugh. You found his nerves to be both flattering and cute. “I’d love to get any beverage you’d like, as long as you’re there with me.” You ran your hands through your pockets, looking for the sharpie you’d had in your hand before you’d opened the door. “Where is…” you mumbled, looking down at your pockets. Suddenly, you felt Spencer’s hand at your ear, where he pulled down the sharpie you’d placed there.

“Looking for this?” He was now standing close enough to you that he only had to whisper.

“Yeah” You responded, at the same volume he’d used. You took the sharpie from his hand, but before he could pull it away, you grabbed it and wrote down your phone number. When you finished, you looked up to Spencer’s face, which had turned pink. “Call me whenever.”

Neither you or Spencer said a word, you just stood there, staring at each other. You couldn’t help but try to memorize every feature of his face. Your staring contest was interrupted by Spencer’s phone dinging. He took a step back, much to your disappointment, and looked down at the text. “I, uh, I have to get to work. We have a new case.” You could tell he was disappointed too.

“Ok.” You whispered. Spencer looked at you for one more moment before he did what you least expected; before you even realized what was happening, his hand was wrapped around your waist and his lips were on yours. Your hands found their way to his collar, pulling him even closer to you.

You two didn’t pull apart until Spencer’s phone went off again. “You better call me.” You said, finally letting go of him.

“I will, promise.” Was the last thing he said to you before rushing off to work. When the door closed behind him, you turned to your blank canvas with a clear idea in mind. So you turned up the music, grabbed your paints, and began to put every detail of Spencer you could remember onto the canvas.

~~~

Notes: i’ll be honest idk how i feel about this ending lmao but i hope y’all liked it

Tags: @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @la-vie-en-amour1 @peculiarinsomniac

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic #david rossi #aaron hotchner

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