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skylarmoon71 · 4 years ago

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E2 Harrison Wells x Reader Oneshot

"I-I love you Harry, that's why I was so worried!"

Your statement made the tall man halt. His blue eyes were watching you with shock. As time went by, you could see a number of different emotions flash over his face. Finally looking at you must have seemed like too much, he just lowered his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I can't return those feelings."

Was it possible to hear the breaking of a heart.

"I'm sorry."

It hurt, more than you thought possible. But you didn't let it show.

"H-Hey it's fine. I'm sorry I just dumped this on you. That was totally not cool." Letting out a laugh you turned your back.

"Just be careful the next time you're out being a hero. "

Just like that you were walking out of STAR Labs. Every step felt like a stab to your heart. As you rounded the corner you pressed a hand to your lips, sobbing softly. You prayed that he didn't come after you, because if he'd seen you so broken, you were sure it would have just made you feel that more pathetic.

~~~~

~One Month Later~

"Barry hurry there are still a few people in the building!"

Caitlin's panicked yell at the other side of the com earned a grunt from the speedster who was already rushing people from the third floor.

"Where's (Y/N)!" He was fast, but there were over a thousand people in the building. Even at his speed, he'd have a hard time getting them all out safely. Cisco already secured a floor, vibing as much as he could.

Harry was at the bottom, doing the same.

"Right here." you called. Barry sighed, and you stomped, clapping your hands together. A mass amount of wind flew right through the entire floor. The people who were still there stopped, staring in awe as the fire seemed to vanish completely. It wasn't long before you could hear applause from the civilians. You grinned, placing your hand on your hips.

"Just on time." Barry said, giving you a fist bump.

"From the cheers I'm hearing in the background I'll take it that everything is fine." Caitlin asked.

"Come on of course it is, I'm here after all. " you respond.

"It always is."

~~~

"Phew, after the day you had, you guys deserve a break." Caitlin stated.

Protecting Central City was never an easy task. Not only did you save an insurance company full of workers from being barbequed, right after you got back there was a new meta causing rampage in the streets. A multiplying psycho wasn't the easiest to subdue. Shortly after that, Cisco blew a fuse in the cortex fighting with Harry. So you spent the better part of your evening making sure the rest of STAR Labs didn't go up in smoke.

Safe to say you were completely and utterly exhausted.

"Maybe we can take tomorrow off. I'm sure Wally and Jesse can handle one night without us."

"I second that!" Cisco chimed in. "Club night!!"

You had a feeling Cisco would say that. The guy was a party animal. When the occasion arose.

"I'm in." You said, leaning against the chair.

"Barry and I down." Iris beamed.

"Harry do you want to-"

"Please Harry would never come to a club." you interrupted. It was nice of Caitlin to offer, but the guy had a stick up his ass. It's not like you were still bitter or anything. Not at all. Pshh.

"I'm in." you were surprised he even agreed. You just huffed under your breath. Grabbing your mask, you stood. "I'm heading out, guess I'll see you all tomorrow night." You didn't stick around for them to reply, and as you left, Harry's eyes followed you.

There was so much he regretted in his life, but rejecting you, it was high on his list. He was a coward. All those days that he confided you, that you confided in him. When he first got to Earth one, everyone was weary of him, and you were the one who challenged him the most.

Cisco coming in a close second. But as time progressed, he started to view the team differently. They were no longer just a means for him to save his daughter, they quickly and unknowingly became a part of his family. One he always thought he didn't need, or deserved.

Little by little he got closer to you. At the beginning it was out of curiosity of your abilities. He was a scientist, so generally metas intrigued him. He liked picking parts of their DNA and trying to figure out how it came about.

Slowly, you were less of a project, and more of a friend. Someone he could depend on. It wasn't long after that he realized, the feelings he was gaining for you, it certainly wasn't just friendship. There was something more. And every time you looked at him after busting a criminal, or helping Barry on his misadventures, the harder it was becoming for him to deny how he felt.

When he got into the little scuffle, the first person he wanted to rant to was you. And that's what he'd intended to do that day. But the moment you saw him you started a rant of your own of his recklessness. Which brought on a screaming match and your unplanned confession. It rocked him entirely. All along he thought it was completely one sided.

That's when he knew it, he couldn't accept your love, not at all because one, he was a middle aged man with an inability to keep anything remotely good stable in his life. And two, he was at least twenty years older than you. You were a vibrant, cheerful, beautiful woman. If he attempted to venture past friendship, he would ultimately screw it up. And if he couldn't come and see that confident, cocky smile on your face every morning, then it wasn't worth taking the risk.

Although now, what he feared had come through. By doing what he thought was right, he ruined it.

"Wonderful." He thought aggravated.

~Saturday Night~

As you stepped into the club that night, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear self consciously. You weren't exactly the party girl type. The booming music and sweaty bodies jamming next to each other did nothing to calm you. Your eyes were drifting over the tables, searching for your squad. You smiled when you caught Iris waving crazily from a corner. Everyone looked up when you pushed through the sea of possibly plastered individuals on the dance floor.

"Hey guys!" your hand tightened on your purse when you saw the way Harry's eyes ran over you form. You were wearing a simple red dress with thin straps. It hugged every curve on your body, and displayed just enough cleavage to draw attention. Barry whistled.

"Wow, I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress (Y/N). You look amazing." you blushed.

"Thanks Barry." Iris nudge you with her elbow grinning.

"Did you come to steal my man tonight." she said playfully.

"A girl can try right." you laughed. She smiled, giving you a side hug, whispering in your ear.

"Try to have fun tonight okay." when she pulled back you nodded. "I will." Iris knew about your little predicament. She was the one you went crying to when it all went down.

"Where is Cisco and Caitlin, did they bail on us!" Barry pointed in the crowd, and you weren't even shocked. Of course they were on the dance floor. Cisco was at it again with his very, exotic movements.

"Are those moves even legal." you spoke titling your head to the side.

"Not on this earth, or any other." Harry retorted. You flashed him a small smile, which he returned.

"Well, Barry and I are going to dance."

"We are?" she took his hand pulling him along.

"I guess we are." he called.

It was cute, watching the way Barry was awkwardly moved, especially since Iris was pretty good.

"Barry was right, you look stunning tonight (Y/N)." Harry's words had you turning to him. You wanted to say thanks, maybe throw a compliment his way. Because it didn't matter what he wore. To you he always looked good. But, you stopped yourself. Turning your back to him.

"I'm going to dance." you said, leaving your purse on the table. As you left you made sure to put an extra sass in your step, swaying your hips. You wanted him to know what he was missing out on. What he couldn't have because apparently he was too good for anyone. As you got there, you just started moving with the mass of people.

Tonight was about having fun, not focusing on Harry. He'd taken up too much of your mind already, and you refused to give him anymore. So you just let yourself go, moving in time with the music. Pretty soon you were jamming with Caitlin and Cisco to the rhythm of the song blaring on the speakers. You didn't glance in Harry's direction, not even once.

Iris drifted closer, giving your hip a little bump and you giggled. You needed this.

The night carried on, at some point the girls started getting drinks. Caitlin was the first to tap out, reluctantly going home with Cisco. For sure she would have a blazing headache tomorrow. Barry was unfortunately the only one unable to get drunk. You sort of felt sorry for him.

That didn't stop you from indulging though. You and Iris were on your third drink. You sat at the bar, about to chug another. Iris stepped away, almost falling when she took the last shot. Barry caught her, and she giggled when he scooped her up into his arms.

"Whooo! So glad I got the big old flash to protect me." she was tracing her finger across his chin, biting her lip seductively and you almost spat out your drink in laughter at the way Barry chuckled nervously. "I think that's our signal to go." You waved to him, obviously not seeing the look he gave Harry. It was a secret exchange.

"Take care of her."

Harry just gave a nod at the speedster, and you squint, confused.

"A-Are you guys telepathic now." your words were becoming a bit slurred. Whatever you were drinking was pretty strong. "Maybe you should call it a day too (Y/N)." you frown, annoyed that he had the audacity to tell you what to do.

"I'll head home w-when I feel like it." you let out a small hiccup through the statement.

"I think she's old enough to make her own decisions. " Another voice interjected. You turned, not expecting the very attractive man standing behind you. "Not as hot as Harry though." the minute it entered your mind, you banished it. "How about I show you some real fun, beautiful" You knew it was stupid, you didn't know this guy and you were already wasted. "Sure." you stood, taking his outstretched hand. Harry grabbed your wrist before you could even take a step.

"She's taken." you stumbled at the tug, crashing into Harry. He held you up, glaring at the man that was now sizing him up.

"Please old man, there's no way she's going for a grandpa, right sweetheart." you were angry with Harry, who was now pushing you behind his back protectively. "Back off. " he warned. The guy didn't take the warning, because he fired a punch, and Harry ducked, socking the male in his jaw. The poor guy crashed to the ground, unconscious. Your eyes widened. "Woah.." Harry just K.O the guy like it was nothing. You probably shouldn't have been so excited by that.

Unlucky for you, the stunt caused a ruckus. It wasn't too long before both you and Harry were being shown out of the club by a bouncer. Harry didn't resist, he just took your hand, guiding you away.

"Don't come back." the rough tone of the man's voice and the harsh slamming of the door was all that was heard for the longest moment. "Leave it to Harrison *hic* freaking Wells to get us kicked out of a night club!" The one night that was supposed to be just fun and drinks, and he messed that up for you too.

Typical.

"Are you serious! That man obviously wanted to show you more than a few dance moves. And you were about to go with him."

"What if I wanted it, did you even think about that!!" it wasn't the best idea for the both of you to be screaming in the street, but what else could you do.

"You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying. I'm getting you home. " he turned his back to you, pulling out his phone to call an uber.

"DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!" Your yell doubled with the immense rise in wind pressure gained his attention. The gust that whizzed by nearly knocked him off his feet. Harry gave a soft grunt, dropping to his knees to ground himself. You stopped when you saw he was struggling to keep his footing. The trees behind were bustling aggressively, and you took two deep breaths to calm down. When you did, the wind dissipated.

"I-I'm sorry." you were pissed at him, but it was unfair to use your powers like that.

He rose to his feet slowly, painfully so. And you felt guilty. You gripped at the edge of your dress.

"I-I-" Harry pitched forward, pulling you into his arms. Every fiber in your body just stilled.

"I'm the one who should be sorry. " Now you sort of wanted to punch him in the gut. It wasn't fair for him to do this. He knew how you felt. Why was he always tugging and pulling you in so many directions. One minute he acted like he cared, then the next he was acting like his usual douchey self.

"I hate you.." you whimpered in his arms. Your body sagged, melting into him.

You would never be able to get over him, he had way too much power over you. And it scared you. He scared you.

~~~~

You smacked your lips, grimacing in distaste.

"Ugh. I should have stopped after the third one." You were a lot better at holding your liquor than Caitlin, but that didn't mean it didn't affect you. Turning, your brows knitted together.

"Where am I?" finally opening your eyes, you scanned the area. "Please tell me I didn't get drunk and boned some random dude at the bar!" you said in horror.

"Don't worry, I made sure that didn't happen. " Harry's voice made you scream. He just looked at you blankly.

"Really?"

"Don't do that! I thought you were a serial killer!"

"And your idea was to scream your way free? Genius." You really didn't need his sass this early in the morning.

"You're lucky I'm hungover otherwise I'd blow you away."

"It's a good thing you're hung over then."

Cheeky bastard." Deciding that you didn't want to spend the rest of your morning going back and forth with him, you inched out of the bed. You were more than a little relieved that you were in your apartment, and not some stranger's. "How did I even get back?" you couldn't recall, but Harry must have had something to do with it. Harry took your hand when you tried to get up.

"Here." he balanced your weight, which you accepted. "I'm assuming you want a shower and some fresh clothes. "

"Wow Harry, sometime I'm certain you can read minds." The sarcasm in your words was evident. He just ignored it, directing you to the bathroom.

When you got there you opened the door, stepping in.

"I'll be in the kitchen, take your time." Harry was being strangely helpful today. You didn't think too much of it.

"Yeah whatever." you slammed the door shut, and Harry sighed, heading to start a fresh pot of coffee.

~~~~

Walking into the kitchen you sniffed, sighing at the smell of bacon and coffee. "Oh yes!" you ran over to the fresh pot, pouring yourself a cup. Pulling the cup to your lips you hummed in satisfaction. "Just what I needed. " Harry smiled, placing a plate of bacon and toast in front of you on the table. You sat, taking it with a small thank you.

"So are we going to talk about last night." Harry's question was something you expected.

"There isn't anything to talk about, I got drunk, it happens. "

"You know that's not what I mean (Y/N)."

Dropping the fork in your hand, you stood. "Suddenly I don't have an appetite. " Now wasn't the best time to lose your temper, but he was really testing you. What exactly did he want. He made it perfectly clear how he felt. So why did he insist on pushing. On and on.

"If you don't need anything else, you can see yourself out. " Harry slammed his hand on the table, probably to intimidate you, or maybe quell his own anger. You didn't care what the reason was. It didn't do much.

"You could have gotten hurt! Do you understand that!"

"Please, if he tried anything I could have easily taken him."

"In your state that would have been near impossible!"

"I don't know why you're getting so angry. We went out to have fun, that's what I was trying to do. A stupid one night stand isn't a big deal."

"That's not what you want (Y/N)."

"And how the hell would you know! Are you in my head. Why do you even care! Was it the fact that I was actually getting attention from someone that surprises you. News flash Harry I'm not completely undesirable to other guys!"

"What are you..."

"Oh don't give me that stunned look. Be straight with me, that has to be it. You aren't attracted to me, and I get it. Honestly if I were a multimillionaire I would probably think the same. You're just way too good for me." The spite behind your words were obvious.

"Is that what you really think."

"What am I supposed to think Harry. You're the one who rejected me. I poured my heart out and you just stepped all over it. Then the minute someone shows the slightest interest in me you get all protective. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME! Because you choose to be miserable I should too!" At some point you started screaming.

Harry stood there, guilt clear on his face. You could have beat the shit out of him at that moment, because after all of that he still managed to make you feel sorry for him. When he moved closer, you felt your body freeze. You weren't sure why, but the look in his eyes changed, and now you were a bit scared of what he was going to do. There was a glint in his sapphire orbs.

"H-Harr-" His lips crashed into you with urgency, and you swallowed the gasp that nearly left. His hand gripped the back of your head softly, keeping you in place. Your hands balled against his chest, trying to shove him off, but his hold was firm. He pulled you, deeper and deeper in, his lips diving after yours as if it were the last thing he'd ever do.

You whimpered softly, relenting. Letting go and giving into the disaster that is Harrison Wells. He backed you up on the counter, hooking his hands around your thighs and hoisting you off the ground. When your butt landed on the cold marble you sighed, slipping your fingers into his dark hair. You tugged and pulled trying to urge out a sound. And you succeeded, because he gave a guttural moan, trying to get as close as he could. Your legs hooked around his waist, keeping your bodies mashed together.

"This is wrong." you repeat that. Because it didn't make sense. Why would he reject you, then kiss you. What was his game. Did he just like toying with you. If that was the case you would surely make him pay.

Harry pulled back panting. In a quick move he took off his glasses, and before you could get a question in his lips were back on yours. You wanted to stop, if nothing but for a proper explanation. Or any explanation honestly. This time when you shoved his chest, he moved back. He was now standing a safe distance away, and you jumped down from the counter, pressing your hand to your lips. You stayed with your back to the counter, watching him wearily. Because you knew if he tried to kiss you again you wouldn't have the willpower to stop him.

"(Y/N) I-" you flicked your wrist, and the wind that came hurtling in his direction knocked him right off his feet. He flew backwards, skating on the ground and hitting the wall. It wasn't enough to actually injure him, just get your point across. The grunt of pain he let out brought a little satisfaction. "I-I deserved that." he grunted, placing a hand on his knees, lifting himself up. When he was upright, you kept your hand raised, indicating that whatever he had to say to defend his actions had better be good.

"I was wrong."

"NO SHIT SHERLOCK!"

"I should have given you a chance I just...you don't understand (Y/N). I've done things that-"

"Oh don't give me that bullshit! You know I don't care about all of that. How long have we been friends, Harry. Ever member of this team has done shit, myself included. You really think I care. You're not the same man you were. You're different, better. You're just too stupid to see it. You think just because you made a few mistakes that it's alright to constantly punish yourself. And that's where you're so selfish because you don't just punish yourself you punish everyone that cares about you. "

Harry looked a bit defeated.

"You keep proving to me just how useless I am. " His head lowered.

"It's not just the issue of my past mistakes (Y/N). There are so many more variables present. "

"Like what." you challenged.

"Well..our age for one is the most glaring. "

You blanked. "Are you telling me this whole thing was because...you thought you're too old for me?"

"Well when you put it that way it sounds ridiculous. "

Wait..so did that mean, he actually does care about you...

"Harry...did you reject me because..because I'm younger.."

He wouldn't meet your eyes. "You have to understand that..I'm almost sixty. Our age gap, it isn't small. I've already done all that I've ever wanted in life. You still have time to pursue that, to pursue someone more suited for you. "

This entire time you thought he just wasn't into you. But hell, he was crazy about you. He was just a bit insecure about the age difference.

"For someone so smart, you're incredibly stupid." his head lifted, ready to inform of his intelligence most likely. You paced, grabbing the collar of his shirt and slamming him on the wall. Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and when you raised onto your toes to initiate a kiss, he didn't fight back. Your hands were desperate on his body, slipping under the dark shirt easily. When your fingers brushed his skin, he hummed. You traced his toned torso, memorizing every curve and dip.

"You're mine Harrison Wells."

There was no way you were going to back down now. Knowing that he returned your feelings, it was all you needed. You could handle the rest. No matter how stubborn he was.

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un4given09 · 4 years ago

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Kiran’s rant

Okay i wrote this a while back (based from a promo from CM Punk), the issue i had with Book 3 of FEH was while i thought it was good the one thing i give complaint to is Alfonse’s father’s lack of being well a dad, even his dying words sounds like he wants Alfonse only to fulfill his duties and nothing else. Not even a “I love you, son” from him so anyways here’s my take on how my Summoner would rant on Gustav’s chastising on Alfonse

Kiran: Alright, listen here you shrieking dead beat!

You thought Al was the only one who risked his life to save this town? Not me, Not your only daughter, Not Commander Anna and all of us?! What’s the matter? Huh? You don’t like that?! Do you Lord Royal Highness Gus? You don’t like it when we save innocent peasant folk who will likely die anyways due to the so called “Exanguinator’s” neglect? Do you?!

Well let me just tell you what you’re going to do about me and the Order of Heroes: Absolutely nothing.

Gustav: YOU! HOW DA-

Kiran: I’m not done! Not by a longshot! You know what? Al has nothing to do with what’s really going on here! Its about time we’re going to put our co-

Gustav: SILENCE! YOU DARE RAISE YOUR VOICE AGAINST ASKR’S KI-

Kiran: NO YOU SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH! YOU’RE GONNA LISTEN TO ME! YOU’RE GONNA MAN UP! YOU’RE GONNA TAKE YOUR BALLS OUT OF YOUR PANTS RIGHT NOW! WE’RE GOING TO LAY OUR CARDS ON THE TABLE!

YOU, Gus, don’t like me, YOU, Gus don’t like the Order of Heroes, but it has nothing to do with who we are and what we do! And I may not have a degree in psychology but I can be damn qualified to be your psychologist for a moment, it has everything to do with who you are not.

See the thing is, I talked with your citizens and when I asked them about you, what they only know is you at face value. See Gus, The people have absolutely no idea who you really are. That’s because when you were Prince of Askr you had the look, but man! oh man! Did you ever sucked! And it got really really difficult Gus, when that incident with that Skank Skank Skank ass Skank Hel, your own dad was the one who died a Hero to save your skin! While you amount to nothing more than a Zero.

See Gus, you were boring, you weren’t charismatic, you weren’t heroic, you were vanilla- that’s right boring! And it kills you that you never amounted to anything the likes of Marth, Alm, and so on as a King, so you traded your lame-ass sword for your equally lame-ass axe. You went from somebody who was reckless to somebody who blames others for their potential recklessness.

And now that you you’re Mr. Gus “High and Mighty” you take your eyes and look at someone like me, me from a world with no magic, me from a world on a brink of total annihilation thanks to idiots in power, me who was about to give up on life and end myself before Anna summoned me here! You took a good look at me and you can’t stand the fact that in just 2 years as Summoner and Tactician for the Order of Heroes, I’ve accomplished more than you ever had in your entire life!

You! You know what? I don’t even know why I’m screaming. You just don’t have an original thought in your body, you accused us of being reckless when we had each others backs at all cost, as if we, and by that I mean the Order of heroes as a whole has become an extended family to your children! Especially Sharena, yeah that’s right the “childish, irresponsible princess” who for how many times you told her to shut up when all she wants is to voice her opinion and ease Alfonse’s burdens, or maybe even just a fucking THANK YOU, DAD!.

So sure call your children whatever you want, but don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare call either of them reckless for doing what’s right. Whether you like that or not, Gus. The fact of the matter is, that this whole “act of recklessness” you accuse us, especially Al of, is simply what we in the Order of Heroes call:

BEING. A .HERO!

“A Hero is the one who does an extraordinary and generous act of courage, which will or may result in the conscious sacrifice of themselves to protect the good of others”

Just a small words from my home world, but they mean a lot especially when I met all these true born heroes who will fight for the good of us all.

And if you want to have my head on a pike, well better men had tried and Surtr had failed. But you’re going to execute or banish me based on one thing: your pure jealousy of who I am and where I come from and the fact, the fact that I AM KIRAN! THE SUMMONER! THE TACTICIAN! THE GREAT HERO OF ASKRAN LEGEND! THE SAVIOR OF NIFL! SURTR’S BANE! YEAH THAT’S RIGHT I’M THE ONE! AND MAYBE JUST MAYBE SOMEDAY: THE SLAYER OF DEATH ITSELF!

And you can’t stand it so you’re going to plan a way to get rid of me or have Alfonse and I separated.

Well let me tell you something, Gus: doesn’t matter what you do to me or my friends in our war against Hel, because by the end of it regardless whether we succeed or not, Me, Alfonse, Sharena, Anna, Eir and all of us heroes will still be better than you.

And after that if you banish or execute me I’ll have my friends and the Kingdom, YOUR Kingdom of Askr doing something you wished your whole reign as King did: I’ll have them talking about you. You see, I’m not gonna revolt and wage war against Askr, I’m not gonna have any of the Ninjas here slit your throat while you sleep at night, but I’m gonna have those people talking about you for sure.

In the future they’ll be talking how King Gustav of Askr, King Gustav the pathetic was nothing compared to his son King Alfonse and his friend, THE GREAT HERO KIRAN WHO KICKED MORE ASS THAN HE EVER DID IN HIS WHOLE LIFE!!!

Gustav: ….

Kiran: ….

Gustav: By my right as King I hereby forbid any action this… “Order of Heroes” commit until further notice, and you, as an act of mercy I will spare you for this time for the sake of my children, but do this ever again and I will have your head!

Kiran: And like that your jealousy shows itself, You’re Pathetic!

Later

Anna: Kiran? You alright?

Sharena: Kiran! How could you say that?!

Kiran: Oh but I mean it, Sharena. I swear i won’t let Alfonse die like this... It’s what Fjorm would have want...

#fire emblem heroes #feh #feh kiran #feh book 3 #fire emblem anna #feh sharena #feh book III

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monikafilefan · 5 years ago

Note

Mulder teaches Scully to ride a bike (or Scully teaches Mulder)

This was so fun to write and I’m happy I was finally able to break through my writers block with this gem. I hope you like my attempt at humor!

Tagging @today-in-fic

——

“Mulder, I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“But you haven’t even tried it yet,” he states the obvious as her hands unclench the handlebars. His supportive grip slips away from the curve of her waist and he can’t hide his disappointment.

He watches her suck her plump bottom lip between her teeth and shuffle away from the wheel. She’s nervous, he notices now, and can’t fight off the instant surge of affection for his strong and fearless partner.

“Come on, Scully, I promise I’ll be right here to catch you,” he assures with a smirk.

She scoffs with fists on her hips and glares up at him through the gleaming summer sun. She’s wearing an old Bureau tee that accentuates her fit, sinewy frame and her jaw-length russet hair is pulled back in a low pony, punctuating the seriousness of this moment for her. She’s prepared - and though Mulder will never admit it aloud - he finds it utterly adorable.

“I’m not incapable, you know. I just… have trouble getting started once I’m seated is all.”

The playful stakeout conversation of childhood quirks leading up to this event was one that had both shocked and tickled Mulder. Learning that her rainbow tasseled bike with the banana seat and training wheels still attached was the last one she’d ever ridden, had him promptly tucking that golden nugget of information away for a perfect day such as this.

He nods with hands up, surrendering to her annoyance. “I have never once thought of you as incapable, Scully. Quite the opposite, in fact,” he confesses and feels the truth of his words coloring his golden skin.

“Well, that’s comforting, I suppose,” she says softly, arching a brow while allowing one of her rare, toothy smiles of appreciation for him to light up her sun-kissed face. “I have been known to save your ass on occasion throughout the last six years.”

“You won’t hear me disputing that fact, partner. I’d shout it throughout the bullpen if I thought anyone would care enough to listen to what ole Spooky had to say.” He watches her flush and turn her face into the breeze to calm it. If Mulder were bold enough, reckless, he might just lean down and press a kiss to each bronze-colored freckle peppering the apples of her cheeks. “It’s just that tomboy Dana Scully not being able to ride a bike seems like such a shame.”

“Mulder…” she huffs, facing him curiously. “I’ve never told you I was a tomboy growing up.”

Logically, Mulder already knows why she hasn’t mentioned this fun fact about herself. One, they only share personal details of their past when confronted head on. For self-preservation, most likely. To keep the professional status quo when their deeper feelings begin to bubble too close to the surface.

At least that’s what he does.

Two, he finally understands that even a strong, serious woman who chooses to fight ferociously as an equal among peers in a male dominated profession, might also want to be seen as feminine as possible when more personal opportunities present themselves.

“No,” he agrees, “you haven’t.”

“My mother.” Her statement is one of realization for Scully. He can tell she doesn’t know what reflective moment spurred on by tragedy in which her mother may have divulged childhood details to him, but the wistful look on her face leads him to believe she’s silently grateful for it. “Okay, then. Show me how it’s done, Yoda.”

He chuckles. “Oh, Scully, you hit me with a Star Wars reference and I’ll do just about anything for you.” Something flickers in her gaze that sends heat churning in his gut. He clears his throat as she runs the tip of her tongue across her rosebud lips and adds, “but Star Trek is more up my alley.”

“I’ll write that down for next time.”

Mulder waves her closer and nudges her hip playfully. “Come young Jedi, there is much to learn, there is.”

Scully grins, rolling her eyes and urges him on. He straddles the center bar of his old mountain bicycle he’s had in storage for nearly seven years, and pops the kick stand. With one sneaker on the pedal and the other pushing off the paved bike path, Mulder’s long legs whirl in a tight circle.

And he’d be lying to himself if his ego weren’t beginning to take over and push him to impress the woman he loves.

“See, you just shift your weight like this...” he hollers over his shoulder and pumps his legs harder with a sway of his hips, watching Scully in the distance as she points at something ahead of him. “...and then keep your balance as you—ah, oh shi—”

His words are cut off with a sudden jolt thrusting him toward the front wheel wedged within a pothole, handlebars twisting inward. Before he can catch his balance, his knees buckle, careening his hips down to connect with the only thing separating him from the pavement: the metal bar jutting out between his legs.

His crotch connects with force, sending a full 176lbs of meat, muscle, and bone down on his manhood.

“Mulder!”

Searing pain shoots up through his balls and into his groin. “Ah, fuck!”

His vision swims with burning tears as he slumps forward, breathless. He tentatively raises himself off the offending bar and appropriately crumples into the grass with a whimper.

He barely registers the clang of metal and aluminum hitting the hot pavement.

“Mulder,” Scully breathes out next to him. She’s here; touching him, soothing his pride. She caresses his cheek with what he’s deciphered over the years as sympathy as she needlessly asks, “Oh, Mulder, you took a bar to the groin, didn’t you?”

His gut clenches as a wave of nausea washes over him like a tidal wave in response.

Mulder swings his head away from his partner’s crouch to gag and spit pathetically on a nearby ant hill. Scully has shot him; seen his body and mind exposed; watched him bleed; held him as he cried; talked him out of shooting himself with holes in his head; and had taken vigil at his hospital bed too many times to count. But she has not and will not witness him lose what’s left of his breakfast all over her pristinely white Keds as he writhes in the dirt.

“Just take a deep breath for me,” she encourages. “That’s it.”

He groans deeply after swallowing back the precursor for puke. Carefully cupping his balls and penis, making sure the three important things currently thrumming with pain are still whole and intact between his thighs, he croaks, “I think broke my… my lightsaber.”

He hears her huff out a laugh and cluck her tongue. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Mulder.”

“Maybe we’re better off if you teach me how to ride the Scully way,” he jests, meeting her soft, baby blue gaze as she hovers above. “I think we work best together that way, don’t you?”

She shrugs. “Oh I don’t know, Mulder.” Her warm hand slides around the back of his neck and helps pull him up to his knees. “I kind of like the way you ride, too.”

Mulder winces with a hand still awkwardly soothing the pang in his balls and his stomach roils. “Ugh…”

“Okay, let me take a look.” He gives her bug-eyed expression. She seems to wrestle with a decision in her mind and then gives him a determined nod. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“Wh-why? They're still there. Trust me, I feel them.”

She sighs and knee walks around to face him. He’s hunching slightly on his knees, gripping both his crotch and his waist in intermittent agony.

Scully gives his arm a sympathetic squeeze. “It’s rare, but if you have serious damage to your testicals or penis, then I’ll be taking you to the hospital instead of home.”

“Sonofabitch.” His face flushes with embarrassment. He cannot believe his attempt to do something remotely sweet for his best friend will end with him icing his nuts on his couch alone tonight.

“Come on, just a peek,” she smirks, and he can’t help but grin in return. If he has to endure a shot to the boys in order for her to offer up her own innuendo, he’ll gladly take it every time.

With no one else around, Mulder reluctantly nods and slowly removes his hand, gesturing that it’s okay for her to slip into doctor mode.

Her slender fingers curl around the elastic, tickling the fine hair line above his groin, and helps him shuck down the front of his boxer briefs.

A cool, gentle breeze sweeps across his genitals and he hisses at the exposure. He looks down to see Scully’s red head poised just inches above his dick. Suddenly, a thought he’s completely neglected to consider during his bout of pain slams into him. Her proximity alone can make him hard. And this… this will be bad.

“Sc-Scully?” he rasps, feeling himself twitch to life. “Um—”

“—are they usually… uh, are you usually this… engorged during activity, Mulder?” Her voice is thick, honeyed, and it sends a tsunami of blood rushing downward.

“What?” You… well I’m not sure,” he shrugs, desperately attempting to think of anything that will salve off the rapid growth of an erection.

A puff of warm breath blows across the swell of him and fingernails gently scrape at his thigh.

Frohike. Skinner in a skirt. Byers wearing an apron…

When her soft fingertips graze the underside of his swelling cock, it’s too late. Mulder’s harder than he’s ever been, and the pain in his balls now is instantly gone.

The pain is gone.

“You’re fine.” Scully clears her throat, rocks up to her feet and quickly motions for him to pull up his shorts. He obeys, dumbstruck and too aroused to speak.

Risking a glance, Mulder notices that her once sun-kissed cheeks are now tomato red, and her sweat dappled chest is heaving.

“Thanks…” He stands, chagrined at the large bulge protruding proudly through his shorts. He mumbles, “I appreciate it.”

“Well,” Scully starts with a smile pulling at her mouth, “don’t say I never did anything for ya.”

“You… you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

She picks up the bike and wheels it over, grinning. “I am a doctor, Mulder. I was just hoping it would work, you know with me being… well me,” she says shyly, attempting to mask her uncertainty of his physical attraction for her.

“Of course it worked. In fact, you work far too well far too often if you must know.”

Their eyes dance coyly together in the sunlight. Something new and simmering passes between them. Another golden nugget of intimacy to save for later.

“So...” She breaks the gaze and swings a leg over the bicycle seat. “Am I riding this death trap back to the car, or are you?”

Mulder laughs, slipping his hands back around the dip in her waist, fingers grasping at the velvet skin peeking out beneath her shirt, and leans in close.

“Teach you, I will.”

“Don’t push it, Yoda,” she tosses back with a smirk. “I’d much rather have my partner teach me to ride the Spooky way. Lightsaber and all.”

——

#msr fanfic #humor i think #UST #thoughtful Mulder #Scully has tricks

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larryssunflower · 5 years ago

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TRR AU- The Non-Royal Romance, part five

read past parts to catch up!

part one part two part three part four

tagging usuals and new people! if you wish to be removed from the tag list, you can always message me and I will take you off the list :)

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Alana’s pov.

Following the events of the beach party and boat race, we officially start the royal tour of Cordonia. Of course, the first stop is Lythikos, the harsh snow kingdom in the mountains. We arrive at the snowy landscape after a short drive. Maxwell and I are riding together, talking and laughing the whole time. “Are you ready to ski?” Maxwell asks, excitement evident in his voice. I grin, looking briefly out the window at the large mountains around us, a feeling of nostalgia washing over me. “I don't know, are you ready to get your ass kicked?” I ask cheekily, making him roll his eyes. “Keep talking princess, but we both know you're just going to embarrass yourself,” He says, making me scoff, punching his shoulder. He just laughs and we continue to joke around until we pull up at the lavish wooden manor.

We thank and tip the Lythikos servants who take all our bags, allowing us to instantly go out skating on the large frozen over lake. It's just me and max on the ice for a bit. I take long strides on the ice, twirling around. I finally feel like I can breathe like I'm not being suffocated. Then I look up, watching as black cars pull up, suitors spilling out, headed straight to the ice rink. Great. I glance over and see Drake standing by the lake, watching the suitors as they try their best at skating. He brings his hand up to his earpiece, pressing it and talking into it. I wonder who he is always talking to.

I feel a hand on my elbow and I turn to see Liam smiling at me. “Would you like to skate with me, Your Majesty?” He asks, extending his hand graciously. “Of course Liam,” I say kindly, taking his hand. We skate slowly on the ice. “It's so beautiful here,” He comments, and I nod. “I feel like we never have any alone time,” Liam says softly in my ear, and my cheeks flush. “Well, I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” I laugh lightly, biting my lip. As usual, my eyes have a mind of their own, and they flash over to where Drake is standing, watching us. “I hope I’m not being to forward,” Liams says, furrowing his brows and slowing down. I shake my head as if doing that would rid the thoughts of DRake and look at Liam. “Of course not,” I grin and we continue to have a nice conversation as we make our way around the lake.

We are abruptly interrupted by a handsome suitor with red hair that is stark contrast with the pale surroundings. “Do you mind if I have a moment with the princess?” He asks Liam in a cool voice, who just nods, before kissing my cheek then taking his leave. “Princess Alana, we haven't really had a chance to talk before, I’m Oliver Nevrakis, the Duke of this chateau,” He says as he extends his elbow to me. I smile, looping my hand into it. “Oh, it's very nice to finally get alone time with you, Oliver. Your estate is beautiful, thank you so much for having us,” I say, and he smiles. “Thank you. I just hope I’m better company than that boring Valtorian,” He says, a bit of disgust laced in his voice. I’m taken aback for a moment. “Oh, I don't know if I can compare you two. From what I have seen, you both seem to be lovely men,” I say, making him smirk. “I won’t tell him I’m your favorite don't worry,” He winks, before skating away, leaving me dumbfounded.

That was definitely something. My eyes find Drake, again, who is staring at Oliver with a steely glare. His eyes then flick to me, looking at me for a moment before looking away, scanning the frozen lake. The other day at the beach he was being so different, almost vulnerable. He’s barely even showing emotion around me now. Did I make a mistake asking him to put on my sunscreen? Was that too forward?

Maxwell’s voice breaks my thoughts. “Ready to ski now?” He asks, a mischievous grin on his face. “Yes! please let's go,” I say with relief, following as he leaves the lake, hoping to rid my mind of my thoughts of Drake.

---

About ten minutes later, we’re at the top of the ski track, the suitors coming up to follow us. It's like I can't escape them. Maxwell and I line up, then yell “go!” and take off together, speeding down the side of the mountain. The thought of speeding away from all those royal men thrills me and I shriek with happiness, adrenaline pumping within me. I speed up rapidly, swerving between and around the slower skiers. Almost a lifetime of lessons has treated me well. I’m way ahead of Maxwell but I glance back anyway, trying to see him. He slows down and shouts at me. “Alana! Look out!” He screams, and I look forward and yelp at the incoming branch laying haphazardly in the middle of the ski trail. Without time to swerve, I crouch and leap over it, landing and slowing down, turning my skis to the left.

The momentum makes me tumble through the powdery snow, cringing as I roll, knowing I’m going to get bruises because of this. I finally stop, and lay down looking up at the sky, breathing heavily. I’m definitely at the bottom of the slope, as I'm flat on my back. I hear shouts as Maxwell speeds down to me. It’s not his voice that I hear right above me when I open my eyes. “Are you out of your mind?” Drake asks angrily, glaring down at me. “W-What?” I say quietly, and he huffs, offering his hand to me. I take it and with his help, stand up, sliding in place momentarily in my skis. “You could have died. Or got seriously injured! What were you thinking?” He asks, his eyebrows drawn together. I’m taken aback for a minute, quietly clicking out of my skis. “Well I was just racing with Maxwell and-“ “- just don’t do it again. Use your brains for once Princess! How am I supposed to protect you if you are so careless?” He asks, genuinely angry.

I can't even find the words to respond, I just stand there, embarrassment bubbling up within me. “Hell Yeah! I had no idea you were so badass!” Maxwell shouts as he skis up to us. “Don't encourage her,” Drake snaps, making maxwell’s grin fade quickly. He brings his lips tightly together, trying not to laugh, as he looks away quickly. Drake rolls his eyes at this, turning back to me. “You’re expected inside,” He says, his gaze stone cold. I finally manage to find my voice. “Alright. I’ll be right there,” I say, and he nods, turning and heading to the large manor.

When Drake is far enough away, Maxwell breaks into laughter. I whirl around to him.

“What is so funny?”

“Nothing!”

--Later that night--

Maxwell and I are sitting by the fireplace downstairs, drinking hot chocolate and talking. Drake is standing near us silently. We’re still a bit tense after earlier. I clearly made him furious. It must be annoying when the person you are supposed to protect is being reckless. My limbs ache from the fall, but it could be worse.

Maxwell and I are interrupted when someone saunters into the room. “Well, if it isn't the lovely princess and her squires,” Oliver says cooly, leaning against the doorframe. “Excuse me?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I mean no offense, your highness, it's just that your friends here don't even measure up to you. I honestly don't know why you bother hanging out with them.” He says as he picks at his nails, his icy blue eyes darting up, hungry for my answer.

“Well, Maxwell is my good friend and frankly I don't care what you think of him, because he is the kindest person I believe I have ever met. And Mr. Walker is my loyal bodyguard who has saved me multiple times. So yes, I do ‘bother’ to hang out with them and take great offense when you say they are beneath me,” I say sternly. Oliver just smirks, his eyes moving to Drake. “Mr. Walker huh? I don’t think I have ever heard someone call you that,” He says, cocking his head to the side, regarding him with a strange familiarity.

I look over at Drake, who is staring back at Oliver, his jaw clenched in anger. “Do you know each other...?” I ask slowly, and Oliver's smirk grows. “Why don't you answer her Drakie? I’m sure she dying to know,” He says, clearly enjoying this. Drake doesn't say anything, still glaring at Oliver. “Okay, I'll go then,” Oliver says, clearing his throat. “Well, about seven months ago, I met his darling younger sister. Mmm, I can still remember how eager she used to be. So excited to be dating the great Oliver Nevrakis,” He says slowly, watching us for our reaction. I glance over at Drake, a sick feeling in my stomach. He has a sister? And she dated Oliver?

I didn't know it was possible, but somehow Drake looks angrier than before. “Oh and don't even get me started on her petite, tight body-” “-Shut the hell up. You have no right to speak about her that way,” Drake cuts him off, somehow not shouting, his voice frighteningly calm yet forceful.

Oliver is clearly pleased that he got Drake to react, and his smirk seems to grow, unfazed by Drake’s outburst. I look over at Drake worriedly. He glances over at me, his eyes softening as they meet mine. “You know what?” He says, turning to Oliver. “I remember that I have somewhere I have to be,” He says, glancing at the three of us briefly, “If you will excuse me,” Drake says, turning and heading for the door. “Aw Drake I was just getting started!” Oliver calls out, but I stand up, anger bubbling up within me. “Stop acting like a child Oliver! If you ever treat Drake like that again, I will slap that smirk right off your pathetic face.” I burst out angrily, taking Oliver aback. Drake hesitates at the door, glancing at me, before going out. The storm suddenly rumbles above us, the sky turning dark blue.

“I’m going after him,” I say, grabbing my coat and scarf from the side of the couch. “Are you sure that's a good idea?” Maxwell asks, and I shrug. “No. But I need to see him. I’ll be back,” I say, quickly heading towards the door. “Head back soon! It looks like a blizzard is coming!” Maxwell calls to me, and I nod absentmindedly, opening the door and rushing out into the snow, following Drake’s figure.

He stops in a clearing, looking up at the evening sky. “Drake?” I call out. His shoulders slump and he turns to me. “Of course you followed me out,” He says, almost amused at my lack for judgment. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Oliver was being pretty rough back there,” I say, and Drake nods, sighing. “Yeah, well that's expected. He and I, we don't really get along,” Drake mutters and I nod, looking down.

“Why come out here?” I ask, and he turns to me. “Do you trust me?” He asks, and I nod. “How could I not trust my bodyguard?” I say, and he then shoves me. I stumble and fall back onto the snow in surprise. “What the f- oh,” I say softly as I look up at the beautiful sky, meteors flying across the clear sky. Drake flops down beside me. “Yeah you can't miss something like this,” He says, a smile on his face. I look at him for a moment. His warm tan face mixed with red cheeks contrast beautifully with the powdery snow surrounding him. He must sense me looking and he turns his head. His dark eyes bore into mine, and my stomach does about 24 backflips. I look away quickly, clearing my throat. “so- uh you have a sister?” I ask, my heart suddenly quickening, so loud he must hear it. “Yeah. Savannah.” He says, his voice soft.

“Is it rude to ask what happened to her?” I ask, and he sighs. “No, it's alright. I actually used to work as minimal security here when the Nevrakis family hosted events. Savannah was always in love with the courtly life and would beg me to let her go to the parties. Then one time, I actually let her go,” He says with a shaky breath, shaking his head at himself. “She got a pretty dress and was super excited. I watched as she danced happily with some of the noblemen...Then she met Oliver. She instantly liked him and was gushing about him for weeks. They started dating, no matter how much I objected. I knew he wasn't a good guy and it killed me that she decided to fall for that snake. About four months ago, at one of the largest parties of the season, she went off to talk to him. I have no idea what about, but I remember seeing her rush out, sobbing. She left without telling anyone where she was going. She didn’t even tell me,” Drake says, his tone vulnerable. “We haven’t seen her since and many people think she fled the country,” He says quietly, and my heart breaks for him.

We sit there for a moment, the only sound being the rustle if the trees and occasional cricket. Drake doesn't speak, and I assume that he doesn't want to talk anymore. Which is understandable. “I'm so sorry Drake, that must be really hard. I wish I could have been there. To be a friend to her,” I say, and he nods silently, and I notice his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

We sit there in comfortable silence, watching the meteor shower above us. I try to ignore that our hands are about an inch apart, so close yet so far. Soon, clouds start to move in, and I sigh. “I think we should go back before we get caught in the blizzard,” I say regretfully. “Yeah I’m sure if the princess was found frozen with her bodyguard it would be quite the scandal,” He says as he gets up, making me snort. He offers his hand to me to help me back up. “Thanks for following me Princess,” He says and I smile. “Of course,” I say, and we start back to the manor. We clearly miscalculated the timing of the storm, and it comes in much quicker than we thought. The wind is strong, snow whirling around us. I blindly reach for Drakes' hand as we trudge through the storm. Drake looks over at me in surprise. “For uh- safety!” I shout, and he nods. “For safety, yeah!” He shouts back, and as he faces forward I swear I see a smile on his face.

---

The next day, right before the ball :

I scrunch up my face as I look at my reflection, adjusting my slinky silver gown, It's beautiful, but hangs a bit strange on my hips. but hey, what can you do? I just shrug, wrapping my white faux fur around my elbows. The knock at my door makes me jump, and I turn around. “Come in,” I say, and the dark wood door opens, and Drake walks in, freezing when his eyes land on me. I feel self-conscious as his eyes glance over my outfit, his cheeks red. His warm brown eyes that I adore so much finally find mine and I smile sheepishly. “Do I look alright?” I ask, adjusting my dress nervously. He shakes his head slightly, “You look per-” He stops himself suddenly, clearing his throat and looking back at me with that distanced expression that I hate so much. “They are ready for you downstairs Princess,” He says. I nod, smiling lightly, disappointment washing over me. “Of course. Thank you, Drake,” I say, walking past him, out the door. I hear him closing and locking my door, then following me from a distance. “For safety reasons, I would prefer it if you were nearer to me tonight. I don't know if I trust Oliver,” I say, bitterness in my voice as I reference last night.

Holding his hand was like an addict just getting a taste of their favorite drug again. Satisfies for the moment, but isn't enough to fully stop the craving. The need. After feeling his warm hands when he caught me on the boat, when he applied the lotion over my back, and last night when they were clutched to mine, I can't get enough. I want to feel all of him. To feel his lips on mine. To feel him hug me back, embrace me. but that will never happen. Drake follows my request, walking close by me. “thank you,” I murmur. We reach the decadent doors of the ballroom, and stop in front of them, taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself. The herald announces my name, “And finally, The Princess Of Cordonia, Alana Rhys!” I put on my dazzling smile and the doors open.

Tonight should be interesting.

-----

Yay! Okay back on this series due to some demand! Thank you again to all of you who have supported me recently and complimented my writing! It's crazy, it feels so crazy writing this again, it has been over a year, and I have definitely changed a lot but my love for this story has not! I’m glad that there are people who enjoy my writing and this little series I decided to make. I have always loved writing and I'm so glad I can share with you guys! Thank you all for inspiring me to keep on writing. I'll try my best to have the next chapter out soon! Love you all <3

#trr #The Non-Royal Romance #the non royal romance #choices #playchoices fics #drake #mc x drake #drake walker #the royal romance #part five

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bae-leth · 5 years ago

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hi,,i wrote another fraldy,,i need your counsel bhdfhfh

it’s timeskip but since i have no idea what goes on i barely mentioned anything outside the barracks and made up whatever

i also have no title..oop

The army returned at nightfall.

Felix sat by the entrance of the barracks, eyeing every soldier that passed. Many were limping, many were being carried in stretchers. Many were gone.

Dimitri came last. While his men sat down to consult the healers, he disappeared into his chambers without a word, his icy blue eye focused ahead.

Felix narrowed his eyes, his arms folded across his chest, his blades hanging in their scabbards at his hips.

“Captain Felix,” a timid young healer whispered, and Felix turned to look in her direction. She was clutching her staff nervously in her arms, as if she were a child and the staff was her toy.

“What’s the matter?”

“Is His Highness all right?”

Felix shrugged. “How should I know?”

“You’re…well, you’re his most trusted confidante….”

The dark-haired swordsman nearly laughed. “Not anymore. I couldn’t care less about him or his silly little feelings.”

Felix was a good liar. That was probably the only reason Dimitri kept him around.

The man wasn’t even a king—he wasn’t even a royal anymore. But they still called him His Highness, their lord, their liege. The only one who didn’t was Felix, for Felix never spoke to him. And he never spoke to Felix.

“He’s growing reckless in battle. He nearly died today.”

Felix flinched. “What?” Dimitri hadn’t shown a sign of injury when he had passed him. His heavy cloak must have hid it from him.

The concern turned to irritation, then to hatred.

“He, um—” the healer blinked nervously “—he saved me, from being killed….”

“��Did he now?”

The healer suddenly blushed. “I…um, oh, forgive me…I was hoping you could thank him for me, seeing as you’re his friend—”

“I’m not talking to that damned madman anytime soon, so you can thank him yourself,” Felix scowled, his amber eyes ablaze with anger. The healer’s own brown eyes grew wide, and she scuttled away.

Felix folded his arms again, digging the heel of his boot into the ground beneath the crate of rations he sat on. There was hatred boiling in his stomach. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to, either.

When the army returned to the barracks the next night, Felix was in the lead. He had suffered a blow to the shoulder, and a blow to his pride.

Dimitri had shoved him out of the way of a couple archers’ arrows, and he had plucked their arrows from his armor and slew them all in a matter of heartbeats. He had saved Felix’s life and risked his own and hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even looked at him. As if he was just another soldier, another foolish underling to toss out of the way.

Dimitri could have been killed. But Felix could have been killed, too.

The swordsman grimaced and sat by his men, and the healers walked among them, their magic glowing in the dim light of the camp.

He watched Dimitri in the corner of his eye. His old friend glanced his way for just an instant before disappearing into his chambers.

The healer from the night before came to Felix, and she cleaned and dressed his wound, then eased the pain with a simple incantation that she muttered under her breath.

“That should do it,” she smiled shyly. “Just be sure not to use that arm too much in battle, okay?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

When she left, Felix got to his feet. He winced at the pain in his shoulder, passing the men who weren’t fortunate enough to have His Highness throw them out of danger’s path.

Dimitri’s chambers were far from the rest of the camp, and far from Felix’s own living space. It was often silent, as it was often empty. But today, there was scuffling, and there was cursing. Felix closed his eyes. Why was he trembling?

“Hey. Open up.”

The noise ceased. Then, a voice that tore Felix’s already wounded heart into pieces.

“What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“No one needs to talk to anyone.”

Felix squeezed his eyes tighter shut, his trembling fingers curling into fists.

“Let me in, Your Highness.”

“Your voice is shaking.”

Felix gritted his teeth.

“So what? Let me in. I need to discuss tomorrow’s march with you.”

“That’s peculiar.” Dimitri’s voice was so much gruffer than it used to be. It had lost its careful poise, its proper enunciation, everything. He had lost himself. “You always blindly follow my orders. How come you want to talk to me today?”

Felix pushed the dark curtain aside and stepped in.

Dimitri was sitting at his desk, at which he was trying to bandage his arm by candlelight. Blood was dripping from a long, thin gash that went from his wrist halfway down his forearm.

He had been hurt.

“Get out,” Dimitri snarled, and Felix almost did. When he turned his waist just a little, his heels anchored him to the ground. He let go of the curtain, and it fell still behind him.

“There’s a healer who would love the chance to touch your skin. You should go talk to her, but she might faint.”

“I said get out!”

“Teacher always told you you were the worst at dressing wounds. But your ego even had to get in the way of that, didn’t it?”

Dimitri’s cold gaze bored into Felix, and he held onto the pommel of his sword for dear life, to stop him from shaking, to stop him from running.

“I came to tell you not to be so reckless. One day you’ll get yourself killed, and where would that put us?” Felix placed his free hand to his chest. “Where would that put me, Dimitri? Your loyal, trusting friend?”

“You would have been shot dead if I hadn’t pushed you out of the way back there.”

“You could have grabbed me, pulled me out of the way. You didn’t have to be a hero.”

“Are you lecturing me on how I should have saved your life?”

“I’m telling you you didn’t have to do anything at all. I mean, what difference would it have made, anyway?” Felix snorted, shaking his head. “I’m just another one of your soldiers, just another pawn in your grand scheme, aren’t I?”

“Shut your mouth,” Dimitri growled.

“Just another corpse you can kick under the carpet when you’re done with me, eh? Just another body you can hide yourself behind, and when we all fall, you can build a nice little fortress with our festering cadavers—”

Dimitri slammed his fists onto his table, his bloody bandages falling uselessly between his wrists, and Felix shut his mouth. And he hated that he did. He hated the control this brute still had over him, after everything.

“You call yourself loyal, you call yourself trusting…you still are as much of a pathetic fool as you always have been, Felix.” The way Dimitri spat out his last word stabbed Felix like a rusted knife; it seethed with impatience, with annoyance.

“I always have a reason. Always.” Dimitri’s voice was filled with a sinister coldness, one Felix had never gotten used to, even through all the years of listening to it. It seemed as if some evil had claimed Dimitri and spoke through him; as if he were trapped inside his own body, and there was only madness.

“What was your reason, then?” Felix demanded. “A king needs all his pawns to succeed, doesn’t he? Was that your reason, Your High—”

“SILENCE!”

Felix fell silent as he was told.

Dimitri’s fists were trembling, his knuckles white. Blood was still seeping out of his open wound, his attempt to dress it abandoned.

“You’re all I have left.” Felix held his breath at Dimitri’s words. “And I hate you for that.” The fierce anger in his voice was gone, and there was something afraid left behind. Like a hermit crab abandoning its protective shell. A broken man taking off his mask.

He was vulnerable. He was alone.

“Everything I had, everyone I loved…everything was taken from me. But you decided to stay.” When Dimitri turned his head again to face Felix, his remaining eye was filled with fear.

“You’re only giving me more to lose, Felix. And every time I look at you I feel like it will be my last…whenever I look at you anymore, it’s only to see you for the last time.”

Felix held his gaze as best he could. But he was shivering, as if it were cold, as if the ground was quaking beneath him and only him.

“I’m sorry for not dying on you like the others.” Dimitri flinched. “But I’m not going anywhere, whether you like it or not. So get your head out of your self-pitying little ass and accept it. I’m not leaving you alone.”

Dimitri stared at him, his expression unreadable. And it made Felix even more nervous not to know what his first friend was thinking.

Then, he looked up. And his eye was trained on him, and Felix turned his head, squeezing his amber eyes shut. He felt that if he looked at him any longer, he would disappear.

“Wait…Dimitri, I….”

“Don’t push yourself.” His voice was…his. It was gentle, careful. Familiar. “I understand.” Felix opened his eyes just a little, and Dimitri was holding out his arm. “…Will you help me?”

Felix bent his head so Dimitri didn’t see him smile as he worked. He cleaned the wound, which was shallow, and wrapped it in bandages. After he finished, his hands lingered on Dimitri’s skin for a moment longer than he’d planned.

Dimitri turned his wrist, then flexed his fingers. He nodded with approval.

“Thank you.” He got to his feet, and Felix tipped his head upwards a little to meet his eye. His gaze was bright and calm. “You would make a good healer.”

Humor.

It was as if Dimitri was recovering from a terrible illness, one that sapped away himself and replaced it with some other creature; it was as if his old scars were mending, marks on his skin fading to dust. He was returning.

“At least one of us would,” Felix replied wryly, and a grin cracked Dimitri’s solemn mask. He leaned a little closer to Felix, who hesitated before placing a hand over Dimitri’s heart.

“You told me you won’t be leaving me. That’s a promise, isn’t it?”

Felix lowered his gaze just a little. “Yes.”

“Swear.”

“I swear.”

“On what?”

“On my life, and on yours.”

The tip of Dimitri’s nose brushed Felix’s cheek. His words were whispers.

“Good. Now get some rest; we march at dawn.”

((help))

--------

notes from bae:

I?? I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! at the beginning I was just sort of gritting my teeth because they kept arguing and hurting and I was going ‘aaAAAAAAA NOOOO’ (great job on the diaogue omg) but then!!! it became softer!!! Dimitri opening up.... like a hermit crab......... telling Felix that he’s the only one he has left, the only one (OW MY HEART) and then the ending!!! the ending!!!! i dont know if you’ve read the song of achilles, but that last bit of WONDERFUL WONDERFUL DIALOGUE immediately reminded me of a bit in that book. and lemme tell you, that is the BEST thing ever.... Felix putting a hand on Dimitri’s heart OOOHH OHH IM.. CRYJIGN.....

#submission #photographerh #fire emblem three houses #fe16 #fraldarddyd #felix #dimitri #I LIVE FOR YOUR SUBMISSIONS!!!#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MY LIFE!!!!#fave #fic

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thecreativeangel · 6 years ago

Text

aut neca aut necare: VI

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You try once more to apologize to Peter (not successfully) and Spiderman thinks it’s a good idea to bring up your family.

Warnings: A hoe needs D E P R E S S O

Words: 3.1k wow i need a life

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

“Hi Peter. Sorry I got in a completely meaningless fight with you and brought up the death of your parents. We're cool, right?”

Yeah, that wasn't going to pass. You stared with half bleary eyes at the phone in your hand, a paragraph long text message highlighted in blue, about to be deleted. This was the fifth…sixth? Sixth attempt at an astounding apology that would make Peter so emotional he’d forgive you in an instant. So far, everything you wrote turned out to be shit. Every text was too long, too pathetic and clingy. And it became apparent to you that as of recently, your texts to Peter had to be perfect. Even before the fight you’d been double checking the spelling, triple checking to make sure there weren’t too many emojis.

Is adding a period too formal? Too strict? And yes, you knew very well why you were acting like this but refused to say it out loud.

After huffing through your nose, you pressed delete and half an hour’s worth of typing was gone. The sound of heavy boats cutting through water was really helping right then, to calm nerves and such. You closed your eyes and dangled your feet over the side of the warehouse. The tracker you'd put on one of Kim’s “henchmen” (could a high school student really have henchmen?) had been still for two hours now, and the video you could get on your phone was of the spider-tracker crawling up and down a man’s pant leg. The doors were locked. The live feed was silent, save for the man pacing; he was alone.

A boat horn rang through the night air, startling a cat that was sleeping on the fence down below. That reminds me, you thought. Haven't gone to Delmar’s in a while. Your phone screen’s light illuminated your face, the blank text box ever present. Okay, go simple. Don't be a dumbass. Straight to the point. I've got this. Your fingers moved nimbly by themselves, typing out the shortest thing you could think of.

“‘I'm sorry’ isn't enough right now, I know. See you at school.”

You hit send and watched the text until “delivered” appeared in small blue letters right below. Was that too up front? Probably. Was he going to forgive you because of one text, no matter how long? No. Never. You looked up at the stars and sighed, feeling a cold gust of wind flow past your cheeks. With the mask off, details about your surroundings were more clear. Everything was in high definition, but that made it hard to focus. Spidey was right; your senses were dialed up to 11, too much input and not enough capacity for storage.

Looking back down at your phone, you saw that “delivered” had changed to “read”.

Peter already saw what you wrote. He didn't bother to reply.

You made a high pitched scream at the back of your throat, frustration and shame warming your cold cheeks. I’m an idiot! Of course he still hates me- I brought up his fucking dead parents! I was the first person he opened up to after they died, and now I’ve gone and fucked up. You kicked your legs over the side of the warehouse and laid spread angled on the tin roof. This was the warehouse you’d been visiting for a few days now. Almost a week. It was only half a mile from where you saw the tall grey alien talk to Kimberly and her bosses. Sure, you should be more careful than texting while hunting down dangerous criminals, but after a few days of spending nightly hours on the roof, it had grown boring. Tame. The giant garage door was locked and from a tiny crack in the wall you only saw a giant, empty warehouse.

You were close to giving up when a car pulled into the alley on your side of the roof. A boy stepped out, loudly smacking on gum and locking the car equally loudly. Still laying down, you peeked over the side of the roof. He, a younger kid, by the sound of it, was with a girl. She talked quickly, nervously. A lazy grin slid across your face; Kimberly was never good at whispering.

“Spit that shit out before I make you,” she finally snapped. You heard a “whooey” sound and a wet splat, meaning he did as told.

“It calms me down,” he explained serenely, as if appeasing a toddler. “Maybe you should try it, since you’re so worked up. Maybe you’ll stop annoying dad all the time.”

The garage doors slid up, rumbling so badly you felt the tremors in your entire body. Their voices faded and before they did, you heard Kimberly retort: “Dad likes me better anyway.” So that’s Kim’s brother? The three menacing, scary hooded figures that talked to the grey alien were a...family? SERIOUSLY?

“Hey,” a voice hissed, poking your shoulder. On reflex, you blindly grabbed (an...arm?) and threw them away, fully prepared to then launch yourself at the target because if they wanted to fight then-

“Ow, what the fuck!” Spidey gasped, holding his bruised bicep.

“Shit- don’t sneak up on me like that!” you cried.

“Why-” he seemed to wince, rubbing the sore spot. “D’you always try an’ kill people when they do that?!”

“Well I was kind of in the middle of something!” you argued, glancing nervously over the ledge at the half dozen parked vans. “Friggin’ intense bad guy shit was happening and you just sneak up on me outta nowhere…”

“What’s intense is your grip,” Spidey murmured, rolling his shoulder. “Is that ‘cause of your powers or are you a gym rat?”

“Okay Mr. ‘I Can Stop A Moving Train’,” you said, putting a hand on your hip. "Not everyone knows how to control their strength.”

He snickered and plopped down on the ledge of the warehouse. “No seriously. Powers or its always been like that?”

“Uh…” you sat down next to him. “Powers I think. Dunno, I’ve always been able to slap a bitch who needs it.”

Spidey pouted under his mask. “Aww, am I your bitch?”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from cackling. “Say that again, but slowly.”

“Am I y- oh,” he laughed awkwardly. “Whoops. Welp, guess this partnership is terminated. Nice knowing you, I’m going to go kill myself now.”

The boisterous laugh finally escaped your lips, all thoughts of Peter leaving your conscious. Spiderman made a gun with his hand, held it to the side of his head and jerked his thumb back as if pulling a trigger. “Now that my sidekick knows I’m an idiot, might as well drop being Spiderman, right?”

“Sidekick?” you managed to scoff between giggles. “Please. I’m the dominant one in this relationship.”

“Kinky.”

The tips of your ears suddenly felt hot. “S-shut up!”

Spidey laughed when you shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes under your mask. “That’s not what I meant, dammit! I’m like the biggest virgin you’ll ever- Stop laughing!”

He kept doing so but somehow, you felt lighter than you’d been a few minutes ago. Free. Like a kid. Which was odd, because this was a nightly patrol and Kim was right below- “We need to get down there.”

The lighthearted aura was sucked from the air. “Huh?”

“I’m supposed to be down there! I was going to sneak in and- and now we’re talking about bullshit when we could be doing something!”

“Oh-kay crazy,” he dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “I called the police, they’ll be here in less than an hour. All we have to do is make sure they don’t leave the premises.”

You frowned inside your mask, thankful that it didn’t change to show facial expressions like his did. How could this superhero, especially one who was known to deviate from law enforcement, sit here and wait for people to do work for him? People who were defenseless unless they were armed with a weapon, no less. You impatiently tapped a gloved hand on your thigh, ears perking up to the muffled arguing that traveled up a nearby air vent.

“Go patrol the city,” Spidey suggested, tapping commands into the sensors on his wrist. “Better that than sitting here and doing nothing. I’ll call you if I need backu-”

“No way,” you said sternly. “I’m gonna kick their asses myself if they try to escape. Not leaving.”

“Don’t- you shouldn’t hurt them, they’re just doing their job,” he said finally, after at least five minutes of thick silence.

“They’re dangerous-”

“So are you,” he fired back. You drew away, fingers tightening around the ledge in surprise. He must have noticed the outburst was uncalled for because he released a shaky sigh. “So am I. We’re dangerous, you know that- right? Only difference between us and them is that we aren’t desperate enough to go into that line of work.”

You bristled at that. “That’s a damn big difference.”

“Not a hard line to cross, though,” Spidey noted, ceasing his tapping of instructions. “People do shit when they’re desperate. For money, for safety, for family…” he looked away from the skyline horizon and turned to you. “I’d do a lot for my family, more than I’d ever tell you about.”

“Well,” you said frankly. “That hurts a bit. Thanks, man.”

“You’ve been getting more...reckless,” he said, “The whole fiasco with the United Nations-”

“I told you that wasn’t me!”

Peter said the same thing, about the United Nations. About the little epic failure you achieved in one night. He was wrong, though; you were framed, it was synthetic smoke. Who was trying to make you Public Enemy #1? You didn’t know and it was killing you. Maybe I should tell Peter about this superhero gig. He could help me deal with it, I guess, you considered the notion. That’d be a huge chip off my shoulder. Too bad I was a complete dumbass and ruined the friendship with one stupid fucking offhand comment-

“Okay, say it wasn’t,” Spidey said patiently, drawing you out of the stream of furious thoughts. “But you stole from that jewelry store a while back.”

“I stopped a potential robbery!” you said defiantly. “He was an idiot for trying to steal at Fifth Avenue- who the hell does that? A-and I only took one little diamond-”

“‘One little diamond’?!”

“Whaaat?” you whined, looking down at your dangling legs guiltily.

“What would your parents think?” Spidey asked, probably expecting you to open up more. Probably raising an eyebrow under his stupid mask. Good luck with that, bud.

“Okay, okay,” you immediately dropped the playful tone. “I get it, that was bad. Let’s move on please.”

“No, c’mon,” he pressed. “Everyone thinks about their family when they do bad shit.”

Your lips were pursed in a thin line and you felt your head tilt in a small nod. He would get no other answer right away, but he sure did try. “Do you...not have a family?”

No response. “Shit, I’m sorry. I assumed-”

“I have a family,” you forced out, and it sounded so disgusting to say that you prayed you’d never have to say it again. Spiderman did this thing where he leaned forward and turned his upper body towards you, cocking his head down and waiting for a continuation. You huffed.

“It’s a complicated situation, webhead,” you lifted one leg onto the roof and pulled your knee to your chest, letting the other one dangle. “S’not a big family anyway, so at least it’s not completely out of hand.”

“Dead relative?”

You shook your head. “Single mom.”

“Oh,” his hand patted your shoulder, a surprisingly welcomed gesture. “My best friend’s got a single mom. They’re not very close, though.”

“Good for them,” you said flatly.

Spiderman shifted awkwardly. “So maybe don’t...steal jewelry? For your mom’s sake?”

He looked at you for a reaction, even a tiny nod, and got none. “You really hate talking about her, don’t you?”

“It’s not- ugh, I dunno,” you hung your head lower. “If I talk about my mum for another second I’d probably start on a whole rant ‘bout how she utterly failed as a parent and, despite technically being there my entire childhood, is constantly ignoring her responsibilities-”

You opened your mouth to continue but choked on the words, realizing that the conversation was 90% you oversharing. “Anyway she’s an okay mum or whatever. Hasn’t done anything that bad. Very average.”

How else were you to phrase it to someone you met so recently? “Very average” was giving her way too much credit but it wasn’t abuse...anymore. In the past two years she’d gone from hitting you for being a disappointment to not caring at all. She didn’t yell every week, she didn’t slap you upside the head or box your ears. She tried to do Mother/Daughter nights but they always ended with her screaming about kicking you out while you wiped away tears. Frankly it wasn’t “caring” as much as it was random fits of rage but- it wasn’t physical anymore. You didn’t have hand shaped bruises anymore, nor split lips. You still had to be careful around your mum ‘cause hell, who knew if she was having a bad day. Who knew what she’d do if she had a bad day. But despite the bad days...she was still your mum. She always apologized after a week or so, told you she hadn’t meant it.

Spiderman was nodded slowly. “You’ve...got a lot to say about your mom.”

“Trust me, that barely covered my opinion of her,” you grumbled. “But what the hell, right? Not like I know you,” your hands felt clammy and hot from frustration.

“Don’t look,” you warned him briskly.

“What?”

“I need some air, don’t look at me.” Your fingers grasped the bottom of your mask and began to tug up. Chilly night air tingled pleasantly wherever it touched, almost making you sigh out loud.

Spidey’s neck must have snapped with how quickly he looked away. “Are you crazy?! Why are you taking the mask o-”

“Relax, I’m just lifting it a little,” you bunched the mask up on the bridge of your nose, inhaling deeply for the cold, dry New York air. It rattled in your lungs yet you took another calming breath, glancing at Spiderman.

He was covering his eyes.

“You don’t have to-” your quiet laugh got his attention. “Don’t cover your eyes, dude. Jus’ don’t look at my face.”

“Uh, yeah,” he hesitantly took the hand from his face. “Gotta be cautious thought.”

“S’ just my mouth, Spiderboy,” you grinned at his awkward nature. “What- can’t handle seeing a girl’s lips?”

“Yes I have!”

You giggled at his voice crack. “Pretty sure you’ve a bigger virgin than I am.”

“I am not!”

“Oh yeah?” you quirked an eyebrow, knowing he couldn’t see it. “I’m making my ‘I-don’t-believe-you’ face, by the way. Seriously starting to doubt that you’re my age ‘cause…you act like a twelve year old. No offense.”

“I’m sixteen!” he defended and honestly, seeing him angrily wave his arms around without facing you was hilarious. And the suit sounded like it was frantically trying to adjust the voice modifier to his high pitched rambling. “I swear I’m sixteen, it’s fucking puberty-”

You put a hand up to silence him, smiling maniacally before pulling your mask over your chin again. “I kid, I kid. Mask is back down.”

If this were a cartoon there would have been steam shooting from his ears. Not like, angry steam. Flustered steam. Or maybe both. Either way, it was funny.

“I hate you,” he groused. “And my voice had to crack! God, that’s worse than when we met!”

A fresh bout of laughter erupted from thinking of that memory alone. Your cackles, once again muffled by the shitty mask, had to be stifled by biting down on the inside of your cheek.

“Pfft, ha! Oh-” you gagged on the words. “Oh that was fucking amazing! D’you- d’you remember when the kid was running-”

“Please no.”

“And you tried to grab him-”

“No, no you said you wouldn’t bring that up!”

“And he threw the bag of quarters at your dick! Ha!”

Spiderman groaned in agony. “Take the mask off so I can deck you.”

“Come at me scrub, I’m- shit,” your metal wristlet beeped, flashing the word “Urgent” in neon blue block letters. “Ah, damn. There’s a robbery near my place, gotta check that out,” owners of a small Korean place near Delmar’s are being threatened at gunpoint. You’d been there with Peter and Ned few times, and that made thought you somber again. “That’ll be a few minutes to get to.”

“You’ve gotta stop bugging the cameras,” Spidey said disapprovingly.

“Well some of us don’t have fancy Super-Conducting 4.2 Tera whatever to help us,” you answered snidely, projecting a small image of the restaurant's security camera view. “Fuck, you’ve got patrol too. Who’s gonna guard this shit?”

“I can stay here,” Spidey offered quickly. He’s not asking to swing me there? That’s...weird. Last time I checked he was the biggest Mom Friend I’ve ever met.

You paused at the ledge of the warehouse, eyes moving from the him to Queens in the distance and back again. “Are you sure?”

“Go!” he urged, shooing you away. “I can handle one night without a partner. S’ your chance to prove that you’re not evil.” You scoffed, wheeled around and raised your middle finger, falling backwards off the ledge with your arms spread like wings. Your body dissolving into a column of smoke seconds before hitting the ground. Spiderman didn’t call for backup that night and the ordeal was stopped with a few “magic tricks” of yours. The robber was easy to take down as he was stupid high and though you disappeared before they could say anything, you saw the restaurant owners talking to a local reporter with relieved expressions. You doubted the old couple would say anything bad, but being tentative never hurt anyone. Hopefully Spidey’s call sent a few officers to the warehouse.

Funny thing was: you hadn’t seen any police cars heading to the warehouse as you flew Queens. Not a single one.

A/N: idk why i got carried away with this. like on one hand...character background. on the other...character background that will cause some depressing shit vv soon

Tags: @everythingthatisrandom, @mcheung0314,@spiderdudeparker, @lou-la-lou, @4-a-m, @miss-glitch, @runs-with-sciss0rs, @lubrielx, @kaitlynthehuman, @b-lyn-k, @hotsocke, @therealwatermelon, @shipping-the-unsinkable-ship, @vivideley, @rosieredcheeks

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ankelspanker · 5 years ago

Text

redemption

Luna Valente is a 22 years old intern in Aleman Hospital. She's living the life of an ordinary girl. Working, dating, hanging out with friends, and is known for her perseverance, hard work and cheerfulness. But behind this smile, there's the past. The past that she can’t forget, the past that can't let her go, the past that is now ready to return into her life.

here’s wattpad if you like to read there more 🍓🌙

chapter one

“But for real, I'm telling you, being a teacher is a hard work. Sure when you teach in elementary school you can somehow deal with the children, but when it comes to students...Jesus. But what were you saying? You’re a doctor, right? It must be hard! But on the other hand, that’s the profession.”

Luna’s fork with the salad on it was stuck in the air for like five minutes already, while she was looking at the person in front of her. She literally has no idea how he even chews. They have been on this date for hour and a half already (and she’s been counting), and for all this time she was managed to insert only a couple of phrases. It’s impossible, it’s absolutely impossible for a man to talk that much. And only about himself.

“I’m not a doctor yet. Just intern.” Luna smiles a bit. “I’ve just graduated from the academy and now it’s only an internship program.”

“Hey, Luna, I’m sure you will be a great doctor!” He winks at her, keep eating his steak.

“Thanks.”

Valente takes a sip of water, mentally trying to remember all prayers she knows so the God will save her. This is the worst date she has ever been on in her life. And there have been a lot lately. She’s is literally ready to pay anyone any money in order to get away from this pathetic dinner.

The guy was planning to say something else but heavens must have heard her and her phone started ringing. She quickly takes it from the bag seeing her best friend picture all over the display.

“Yes, Nina.”

“You still on a date?” Her tone sounds quite anxiously.

“Yeah, what happened?”

“I need to tell you something.”

Luna shifts her eyes on her date and then suddenly makes the panic face.

“Oh god, is that your old leg injury again?! That’s just terrible! Don’t worry, I’m coming!”

“Wha...”

Though she doesn't hear Nina's next words, declining the phone call.

“Lucas, I’m so sorry but I have to go now!” Luna's fakes her sad voice as she getting up from the chair.“It was my friend. Her old injury is getting worse and I’m the only one who can help her! But I’ll call you later, okay? Toodles!”

Without even hearing his answer, Valente leaves the restaurant with all speed possible, going back to her car which is parked near the building. She quickly gets in and only then she exhales loudly. Of course she understands that this action won’t make her an angel but this was honestly too much.

After giving herself a couple of minutes, Luna starts the car, heading to the direction of her best friend’s apartment. For the last year, her personal life was like the Titanic wreck where, like one after another, her dreams for a happy future are drowning. Although there is a worthy explanation for this — she’s 22 years old and at this age she has to go clubbing and mix all alcoholic beverages she’s able to find there, but instead Luna’s working 13 hours a day and she barely has time to have a couple of drinks with her friends in a bar downstairs her apartment building. She did know that such profession as a doctor isn’t easy, but she obviously didn’t think that everything would start right from the internship.

About twenty minutes later, Luna is already at Nina's door. She knocks only a couple of times before her friend opens the door with her face being extra stressful and worried.

“You literally just saved me with your call!” Valente says as she walks inside, taking her heals off. “I’m telling you, this guy would make the dead one rise from his grave just to shut him up.”

Brunette smiles at her own joke, making herself comfortable on the big couch, though her friend’s face still looks pale and probably even more stressful that it was before. And suddenly, nothing is actually funny anymore.

“Okay, Nina, you scare me” Valente’s voice becomes a little bit nervous as she carefully looks at the girl in front of her. “Is something really happened?”

She said nothing, dropping her gaze at her fingers and beginning to touch them nervously.

“Nina, please say it already.”

Simonetti takes her glasses off and lifts her head up to look into her friend’s eyes.

“Luna, just please, don’t freak out, but…” She takes a deep breath. “Matteo is in town. He’s back.”

🌙🍓

“If Mark really calls this garbage “an apartment”, then I rest my case.” A guy named Gaston Perida throws his almost empty Abercrombie & Fitch bag on the couch and turns around to look at the whole place again. “I’m telling you, as soon as we get the money, we will rent a better flat.”

His friend with dark and a little bit curly hair nods as he opens the balcony door and enters outside to take another look at the city. He’s agree with his friend – this place stinks. Although, currently it’s not his biggest problem. He lived his whole life here and then he just packed his bags and left. Not because he wanted to – because he had to. And there was too much to left behind. Too much, he didn’t have enough courage to explain or at least say a proper goodbye to everyone he loved here. To her. He was actually sure that never in his life he would have to come back here. Every corner in Buenos Aires keeps 20-year-old memories of him and his life, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to face them. Not like that and definitely not doing what he’s doing now.

“Bro, are you okay there?” His friend’s voice makes him come back to reality and he exhales loudly before leaving the balcony, closing the door behind him.

“This area of Baires doesn’t have better apartments, believe me.” Matteo smiles a bit as he sits on the couch.

“You from here?”

“Not specifically this district but close. I told you I grew up in orphanage and it was located in the same ugly shit as this place. So, looks pretty familiar for me.”

Gaston nods, keeps looking at his friend. “So what if you meet her? You sure you’re ready?”

“Even if I’m not, what can I do?” Balsanoshrugs. “We have a job here and we need to have it done.”

They sit in a silence for a couple of minutes more before Matteo gets up and saying something quick like “I’ll go buy some groceries”, leaves the apartment.

Thank God the nearest supermarket is only a block away and this reduces his chances of meeting someone he knows.

He walks into Disco taking the trolley with him. The apartment is new and totally empty so they need plenty of stuff. Plus, more guys are coming tomorrow and its gonna be six of them and not just two. Matteo stops near the bread shelves, taking several toast packs, and just when he was ready to move forward, he heard a familiar voice behind his back.

“Matteo?!”

He freezes and then slowly turns around. Nina Simonetti in the flesh and blood is standing right in front of him with her mouth opened in surprise.

“Matteo?!” She repeats his name as she doesn’t believe her own eyes. “What the actual fuck are you doing here?!”

“None of your concern.” The guy simply shifts his shoulders trying to stay calm. Though the storm of worry was growing inside him. If Nina knows, everyone else might know soon as well. Especially the ones who don’t really need to.

“Why in hell are you in Baires? You left! Why did you come back? Is it because of Luna?”

The sound of her name hurts a little bit.

“Jesus Christ, Nina!” Balsano rolls his eyes. “It has nothing to do with Luna. Will you give it a rest already? I just have some business to do.”

“Some business to do.” She mocks him. “Don’t you even think about going to her.”

Matteo exhales deeply, remembering what a pain in the ass this girl was when he was living here.

“For the last time, I’m not here because of Luna. And I will be very grateful to you if you don’t tell her that you saw me, okay?”

“With all the pleasure in the world.” Nina looks at him with the most disgusting facial expression she has ever been able to make as she turns around and leaves, dropping her food on the nearest shelf.

Buenos Aires is a big city. The chance of accidentally meeting someone familiar here is very and very small. However, it seems today fortune was not on Balsano’s side and an hour after his return to his hometown, he immediately met someone. And not just anyone, but Nina fucking Simonetti. Donald Trump himself talks less shit than this girl, and probably, even if they cut off her tongue, she will find a way to speak. So, despite the fact that he asked her to be quiet about this situation, he literally 100% sure that soon everyone he knows from here will be aware of his homecoming. Including Luna. And the last thing Matteo wants to see again is the eyes of his ex-wife.

🌙🍓

Luna takes another sip of the water from the glass in her hands and keeps staring at the wall right in front of her. This is just impossible. That can’t be. He was gone. He left everything and just disappeared, and now he has literally no rights to be back out of nowhere. And she was hella scared to even go outside now. What if she meets him? What will she say to him? What will do? Matteo Balsano isn’t just someone. He’s everything. Her first boyfriend, first love, first sex. For God’s sake, he’s her ex fucking husband. Yes, at the age of 22 she already has ex-husband. They were too young, too stupid, too reckless and too in love. They got married as soon as she turned 18, against her parents’ wish, and she hasn’t talked to them since. Luna’s parents are extremely wealthy people and she actually comes from the very rich society. So, of course, none of her family who’s used to luxury and success would ever accept her love for an orphan from poor and wrong sides of the tracks. Her father didn’t call him anything except low life scum and forbade him to even breathe near Luna’s presence. Though all of this meant nothing to her. She loved. She loved so deeply that it was impossible to even explain, so of course when Matteo suggested her to marry him and leave everything behind, she agreed without any hesitation. Even when two years later after their marriage Matteo just left, only leaving signed divorce papers behind him, she didn’t come back to her parents. Not like they wanted her to, but she was already so used to being independent that returning there was equivalent for her to locking herself in a cage again. It was almost a year since she stopped living her life thinking about him every day. She moved to another apartment, found a job, started dating again. Luna tightly closed that chapter of her life story she wasn’t going to go back there.

“I met him when I went grocery shopping in Disco. I really didn’t want tell you at first, but then I thought you should know because what if he decides to contact you.” Nina says, taking her friend out of her thoughts.

“What if he doesn’t decide?” Valente whispers, finally shifting her gaze from the wall to Nina. “What if he has other goals here and he absolutely isn’t going to contact me? And then I just wouldn’t know that he is here and it wouldn’t turn my life upside down again.”

“Why does it even have to turn your life upside down? He left! He has nothing to do with your life now!”

Luna angrily gets up from the couch and quickly moves towards the door. “I need to be alone.”

“Jesus, Luna, why so much drama because of him?”

“He was my husband, Nina.” Valente puts her Zara heals on and gives her friend another not so happy look.

“Yeah, the key word is was. In case you forgot, you got divorced almost three years ago!” Nina follows her friend. “Yes, he left you without saying a word but this the past.”

“I have to go.” Luna shuts the door behind her and quickly goes upstairs. Her hearts beats like crazy and she’s trying all her best not to faint right here.

She only manages to control her breath when she’s sitting in her car, stressfully trying to find her phone. There’s only one person she can call now. Only one person who will understand her. Because he also was left like her almost three years ago without any information. And he’s the only person who knows Matteo as good as her, if not better.

As she finds his name in her contacts list, Luna clicks his phone number and there are about three-four beeps before she hears his voice from the speakers.

“Luna? Hey! Haven’t heard you for a long time! What’s up?”

“Simon, he’s here. He’s back.”

And this is the moment when it finally and completely hits her, and she just can’t hold her tears anymore.

#yeas its finally out #yeah i promised january and now its june #i changed the whole plot so sue me #and yes they were married #shit is gonna be interesting #sl #soy luna #lutteo #soy luna fanfiction #mine

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jungcock · 7 years ago

Text

fatal attraction│01 (m.)

→ pairing: reader x jungkook (feat. taehyung)

→ genre: serial killer au, angst

→ word count: 14k

Your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one.

→ warnings: mentions of smut, drug and alcohol abuse, violence, light gore, death and murder. This will be a series with a lot of twists and turns… I’ve been working on this for a while and I’m excited to finally post so I hope you all like it.

↳ series m.list | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | on going

You were at Hoseok’s palace of a home. You were at Hoseok’s palace of a home every Saturday night. Every weekend his parents flew off to the Caribbean, leaving an empty house for him to have all of you over. Apparently dealing with their unemployed 24 year old son proved too stressful. You, Hoseok, Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung and a hundred odd people occupied the Jung mansion in his parent’s absence. These parties were notorious from what you heard. Only a handful of times you had experienced them first hand, despite being in the same place every weekend. Instead, you’d lock yourselves upstairs and let the party goers enjoy the raging vibes below.

Surprisingly, Hoseok never minded these strangers soiling his million dollar home. Whenever someone would break a vase or knock over an expensive artwork his reaction was far from frightening. His eyes would widen and he’d mutter an ‘oh shit’ before erupting into laughter. He was so carefree and that’s what you loved most about him - despite the trait most likely stemmed from growing up so privileged.

Hoseok was heir to an empire. You all were and you were lucky you all clicked so well when your parent forced you all to form a little group. Sure you fought every now and then, but there were two things that always kept the dynamic in check, two things you would always have in common. One, none of you wanted to take over your families’ businesses and two, all of you loved to drink.

You were sitting at the dining table scattered with all types of contraband and playing cards. You had the worst poker face, so your goodies were at the other end of the table with Taehyung. You sent him a death glare as he snorted a line of your cocaine before puckering his lips at you.

“Asshole!”

“Hey! It’s not my fault you’re shit,” he retorted.

“Fuck you!”

You chucked your cards at him and he cackled when they landed nowhere near him.

“Let’s just play something else,” Jimin suggested, hoping to simmer down the situation before you exploded.

“No!” Taehyung argued, “Just because princess pathetic can’t handle losing her stimulants doesn’t mean everyone’s fun has to be ruined.”

Taehyung was known for joking around, especially with you. For some reason beyond your knowledge, you were his favourite to tease. It was a thrill for him to get a rise out of you, you could see it in his eyes. Every time, his chocolate orbs would ignite with satisfaction at your reaction. It was like he got off from it, his dark stare taking a snapshot of your face to save for later. Although he irked you endlessly, you didn’t entirely mind. He ensured there was never a dull day. He ensured embarrassing moments never went unnoticed and were stored away for future laughs. He was your friend and you knew he loved you, despite the harassment. But that comment did hurt.

“Hey!” Yoongi snapped.

Taehyung eyes widened and he hung his head. Whenever Yoongi spoke up, you all knew, as well as Taehyung, that he had gone too far. Now at an awkward standstill as to what to play next, Hoseok got up to go downstairs. He’d make an appearance every hour, more so to please his guests as opposed to checking if his home was still intact. After two years of witnessing these parties you had come to the conclusion that Hoseok used them to punish his parents for neglecting him. They weren’t for his pleasure and they weren’t for his boys or yours. The parties were only a background noise. It was a weird dynamic when you actually thought about it but it worked. The guests knew never to come upstairs and as long as they obeyed that rule, they could drink and party to their hearts’ content. However, Hoseok wasn’t completely reckless, if anyone broke his very few, lax rules they were banned for good. His status alone kept trespassing nonexistent. It was organised chaos.

“I’m off to do the rounds! If you haven’t come up with a game by the time I come back, we’re all joining the party,” Hoseok threatened and earned a groan from all the boys as he left.

“Ok fine! Since princess-” Taehyung began with a snarky tone.

“Careful,” Yoongi warned.

He sighed before adjusting his tone to something close to endearing.

“Since princess has lost her assets, how about we bet on clothes?”

“If you give me my coke back I’ll strip for you right now,” you deadpanned, fed up with his extra sass.

“Really?!” He exclaimed, his face lighting up with shock, which you hated because he looked so damn cute.

“Just have mine ____,” Jimin offered kindly, trying to save your dignity.

“No offence baby but my coke is better,” you sassed, drunk and coming down from the weak drugs.

Jimin dropped his cards in defeat. He was always such an angel to you, you knew you’d feel bad tomorrow but right now your stubborn self just didn’t care.

“____ just text Jin and get more,” Yoongi suggested clearly trying to protect your dignity as well.

“I can’t,” you replied in a small voice.

“Why?” Taehyung challenged with a smirk.

“Because if I ask him for drugs again he’s gonna tell mum and dad,” you admitted unable to make eye contact with anyone.

Sure your brother was a part time drug dealer, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still your brother. He was overprotective and controlling and he hated you hanging out with the boys. If it wasn’t for the fact your friendships benefited the family business, he would have narked on you all years ago.

Taehyung’s cackle filled the room. “Are you serious?!”

“Why are you being extra dickish today?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders before pushing his chair back and dangling your little white bag spitefully. In blind determination you marched over to him, peeling the tight shirt off your back. Jimin and Yoongi yelled in half-hearted disgust and turned away while Taehyung hollered.

“C'mon guys don’t pretend you haven’t wanted see this for years!”

You ignored his comment, knowing if you acknowledged it your face might have turned beet red. You attempted to snatch your drugs dangling between his fingers but he palmed the bag.

“Jeans as well, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and began to unzip. You should have felt disgusted and repelled by his sleazy behaviour but you couldn’t. As you looked down into his eyes that were filled with curiosity and anticipation, you could only see your little Tae. Taehyung who never failed to make you smile by the sight of his face alone, his constant expression of absence and his big bambi eyes. The urge to pinch his cheeks was a daily struggle and that image was impossible to tarnish. And in a weird way, it made you feel ok with what was going on. You trusted Taehyung, you trusted all the boys and you were comfortable. Honestly you were surprised they hadn’t seen you naked already.

“Stop!” Yoongi yelled before you could push your jeans past your ass.

“Why?!” Tae whined in dramatic pain.

“Jin’s on his way.”

“What?!” You screeched in panic.

“Chill! I texted him asking to score and he said he was in the area. Put your shirt back on, your high end coke is on its way,” Yoongi explained.

“Thank you.”

You did what you were told and poked your tongue at Taehyung before returning to your seat. He kicked at Yoongi’s chair and mouthed a 'what the fuck man?!’ at him when he thought you weren’t watching.

“We’ve got a good thing going here!” Yoongi bellowed, disregarding Tae’s attempt to be discreet. “I’m not going to let you make it weird and awkward for the only girl that likes us because you’re high and horny!”

Now, girls liked them. Girls liked them a lot. However you were the only one who didn’t beg them for anything remotely romantic. Now don’t get it wrong, it was difficult in the beginning. The four of them screamed anime fantasy, with their impeccable fashion sense and coloured hair. Their demeanours radiated sex appeal without effort, disinterested and completely unaware of how alluring it was. They were just too cool it hurt. It took a good couple of months of getting used to and resisting that urge to throw yourself at any of them was probably the best thing you had ever done. It was strange to think your feelings for them weren’t always platonic.

And even more strange to think it was Taehyung that caught your eye first.

He was slouched against the wall at the bottom of Hoseok’s grand staircase. His hair was red at the time and he was sporting leather trousers and a white bomber. Drunken strangers flooded the distance between you two and obscured your view occasionally but it was still impossible not to spot him. He looked and was, fucked and he completely owned it. His mouth was in a permanent smirk, his tongue making an appearance every few seconds. He was looking everywhere and nowhere in particular. It had you yearning for his thoughts. Daze so intense, he hadn’t even noticed you blatantly staring at him for the last half an hour.

Half an hour you had been there, dragged out of bed by your brother because he needed to deal and you couldn’t be left alone. You truly had no interest in attending one of Hoseok’s parties but now, discovering this gorgeous boy had you kicking yourself for not making an appearance sooner. Once you had enough of the torture, in a second of blind courage, you found your legs moving towards him. You didn’t even have anything to say. Honestly, you were shamelessly contemplating just shoving your tongue down his throat because you didn’t have anything to say. But you weren’t the only one with him in your radar. You stopped in your tracks when suddenly this gorgeous blonde popped out of nowhere and latched onto him. You cursed. If only you had made your move sooner. But no, you had spent the whole time just staring like an absolute creep…

But before you could completely bask in regret, he was waving her off.

It was bizarre.

She had the looks of a model, throwing herself at him and grabbing his manhood. He only chuckled and shook his head, letting her make a fool of herself. Just within earshot, you could make out her annoying whines.

“C'mon Tae, take me upstairs and we can fool around abit.”

Tae.

Tae chuckled and covered his face as if she had just said the most absurd thing imaginable. Leaning his head back against the wall, he stared at her through his lashes and once again, shook his head. She stomped like a child, disappointment shrouded her flawless face. In one final attempt to get in this boy’s pants, she leaned into his ear and whispered so seductively it gave you goosebumps.

“I really want to suck your cock baby.”

No reaction whatsoever, instead his smirk returned and his eyes found yours. You must have looked like a deer in headlights, unable to move or play off like you hadn’t been eavesdropping the entire time. His stare was inquisitive, curious and he refused to break it as he finally opened his mouth.

“No,” he growled into the blonde’s ear before winking at you.

Your heart stopped and you ran off in a panic. No no no no, hell no. There was no way you could face him now. On a mission to find your brother, you were praying he was far from the stairwell so you could make a proper escape. Tae’s raspy voice echoed in your brain as you moved through the crowd at an agonisingly slow pace. To your dismay, you didn’t get very far before Jin found you.

“____! I told you not to wander off! Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Jin yelled at you over all the commotion.

You had felt your phone go off but ignored it. You couldn’t risk tearing your eyes from Tae at the time. You were scared he’d get lost in the crowd even if you looked away for a second. But now that you had been discovered, you had to be as far away as possible. You nervously turned back to check the distance you made between yourself and said boy. It wasn’t a lot and he was still watching you, amused and the blonde had disappeared.

“I’m sorry, let’s just go home,” you gushed trying your best to usher him towards the door.

But he stopped.

“Oh! It’s Taehyung,” he said, waving at the boy you had been trying to run away from.

“You know him?!” You squealed.

“Yeah, he’s dad’s potential business partner’s son.”

Your eyes widened. “How do you know this?”

“We’re going to be taking over the family business eventually, ____, pay attention.”

“You’re taking over the family business Jin. So no, I won’t pay attention.”

He shook his head and chuckled.

“I’ll introduce you.”

“NO!”

Before your body could react, Jin was already approaching him. He grabbed your hand and pulled you along like he did when you two were kids. You tugged at his bicep in protest and whispered in his ear in desperation. You felt like you could mentally combust if forced to confront Taehyung now. Jin ignored your pleas, like always. Your heart was racing as Taehyung spotted Jin and stood up straight, recognition in his expression. It was the most alert you’d seen him.

“Oh, Jin!” He greeted.

“Taehyung!”

Then they did this bro handshake you’d never understand.

“Hey, do you have anymore of those pink tabs?” Taehyung asked your brother, eyes wide and hopeful. It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen in your life.

“So that’s how you know him?” You called him out, as if he listened to shit concerning the family business. “I was under the impression you met through our respected law-abiding families?”

Jin shot you menacing eyes. “I did meet him through dad, you brat,” he hissed in your ear.

Taehyung chuckled. “Who is this?” He asked your brother and then turned to you, “And why’d you run away from me?”

“This is my little sister ____,” he introduced you before you had a chance to. “I have to babysit her even though she’s 19 years old because she can’t stay out of trouble. And why did you run away from him ____?”

You stuttered. The fucking nerve of him. You wanted to murder him. Taehyung’s laughter filled the air and you felt your face burning up. You twisted around to punch Jin in the gut but he predicted it and blocked it. The urge to scream in his face was so strong but Taehyung’s intense gaze forced you to behave.

"You’re not doing a very good job keeping her away from it.”

The three of you turned to the voice walking down the stairs. Your jaw dropped. The boy was just as ethereal as Taehyung. He had similar style, however a leather jacket hung off his shoulders instead of the white bomber that swallowed Taehyung. He caught your eye and smiled brightly, his eyes crescent moons. If you hadn’t died already, you died then.

“You’re no better,” Taehyung pointed at the other boy, eyes wide and accusing.

“What? I’m an angel,” the boy sung, running his fingers through his silvery white hair.

The other boys cringed and Taehyung shoved him as he took the spot next to him against the wall.

“I’m Jimin.”

“Hi,” you squeaked.

Jin looked at you, looked at his friends and then looked at the way you were looking at his friends. He could always sense the trouble before you ever could. It was the glint in your eye, the undeniable tension that radiated off of you whenever you were drawn to something, drawn to… trouble, essentially. And somehow it was Jin’s job to prevent it, to intervene before you delved face first.

“Ok I’m going to take my baby sister home now,” he declared, emphasising 'baby’.

“No, stay!” Jimin protested sweetly.

“Yoongi hates it when you leave so soon,” Taehyung added.

You had heard that name before, Jin was always mentioning him when he was not already with him. Although your brother never used the phrase best friend, you knew that was what Yoongi was. You had been dying to meet him. And you’d be lying if you said the two boys you had just met didn’t have anything to do with your change of mind.

“Let’s stay-” You began.

“Next time boys,” Jin interrupted, pulling your arm.

“Wait!” Taehyung hollered and closed the distance Jin attempted to make. “I wanna see you again.”

The smirk on him radiated utter confidence and bravado. You hadn’t made the best first impression, with the help of Jin, so you were quite surprised. Nevertheless, you bit your lip and pulled your phone out of your pocket. But it was quickly intervened.

"No,” your brother deadpanned.

The boys with coloured hair laughed.

“C'mon dude, we’re not that bad,” Jimin defended the both of them.

“Maybe you,” Jin said pointing at Jimin. “But not him.”

Taehyung gasped dramatically.

“Ok, how about I get her number then,” Jimin mediated.

Jin rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. He turned around as if saying to quickly do it while he wasn’t looking. You grabbed Jimin’s phone, typing your number and saving it. Taehyung’s eyes grew at the sight of Jimin’s phone, now with your number in it, as you handed it back. He was about to lunge for it but you grabbed his phone before he could and dialed your number quickly.

Jin turned around as your phone rang.

“Um no!”

“I’ll see you around,” You said with a wink, dragging your brother away.

Jimin and Taehyung told you a year later what they thought of you in that very moment. It started with, “you were sexy as hell” and ended with “but then you became one of us”. You had pondered that conversation and first interaction over and over, trying your best to analyse how they saw what they had explained. First of all, you looked a mess that night so for them to find you attractive enough to want to see you again, had you baffled. Jin gave you no time to change, so you were still in your satin nightgown and ended up chucking on boots that were laying at the front door. Your hair probably looked like a nest and all you did was stand there being patronised by your brother.

For a while you theorised it was because Taehyung thought anything in little dress was sexy as hell. He loved women with an alternative look and he was all about the chase so it was easy to assume. Jimin spoiled that theory eventually, with a raised eyebrow and an accusation that you weren’t giving yourself enough credit for how beautiful you were. And soon, to your embarrassment, whether it was a compliment or expressed as a burden, none of the boys would let you forget how beautiful you were.

As you walked back to the car with your brother that night, you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling. From the beginning, you could feel that you were on the same wavelength and that both parties had voids they knew the other could fill. It was in the way Jimin smiled at you. It was in the way Taehyung looked at you differently to the way he looked at that blonde girl. There was a connection you hadn’t felt since your ex-boyfriend and you had missed the excitement that coincided. The promise of new relationships - friendly and romantic alike.

However, Jin was quick catch on, being the protective brother was.

“You are never to go to one of those parties ever again,” he ordered before speeding down the driveway.

Like Jin could ever control you.

You found yourself being drawn to them. Every Saturday, without fail, you would sneak out your bedroom window to meet Taehyung waiting further down your street with the motor running. Before you’d end up at Hoseok’s, he’d drive you to a make out spot that overlooked a view of the lit up city at night. It was breathtakingly gorgeous despite the muffled moans from neighbouring cars. The first time he took you there you could tell a hook up was on his brain and sweaty palms aside, you were more than obliging. But instead, you got talking and that’s all you ended up doing. You told each other things you had never told anyone. You laughed until you cried. There was more than just attraction and that was the last time you ever got the sense he was coming on to you. And after that, surprisingly, the awe of him wore off. As you spent more weekends with him, he became less of an angelic being and more of a boy your age. The dazzle and charm of him developed into pure platonic fondness. As it did with Jimin. And then Hoseok and Yoongi when you met them.

You liked them for them and not for their looks, and Yoongi cherished that greatly. As corny as it sounded, it made you feel secure and warm and wanted. Just knowing for a fact, Yoongi wouldn’t let anything jeopardise your place in the group did wonders for your emotional stability.

“You could never scare me away,” you reassured him, in the cutest voice you could muster.

“Stop.”

You giggled at his reaction, as much as he pretended it disgusted him you knew he loved it. It was the glimmer of admiration in his face before he would twist it into a grimace. Jimin’s giggle filled the air and it was contagious.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” Jimin teased.

Yoongi shoved his chair back and shot out of his seat, ignoring Jimin’s comment.

“Fuck it.”

“Where are you going?!” Taehyung questioned, containing his laughter.

You all watched Yoongi’s back as he stormed up to the locked door.

“What else are we gonna do huh?! It took you idiots hours to decide on this game.”

It was not hours, drama queen.

The other boys grumbled. They hated joining the party. As obnoxious as it sounded, it was because they were sick and tired of being continuously hit on. Every time they took a step out that door, girls would squeal and then a brave one would come up and try her luck. Now, any guy would be in heaven but these boys were different. Jimin was shy and even though the attention was flattering, he didn’t want it and never knew how turn it down. Taehyung loved the attention, but he also loved the chase, nothing screamed boring more than a girl that was easy. Yoongi was too into his music, he couldn’t care for anything else. And Hoseok, was Hoseok. He was too all over the place for a girl to try to tie him down, even if only for a hook up.

To the boys discomfort and displeasure, you loved to see it all unfold.

“Let’s do it!” You cheered, joining Yoongi.

They moaned again, Jimin throwing his head back to be extra dramatic before dragging himself out of his seat.

“Only if me and ____ play boyfriend girlfriend!” Taehyung declared sickeningly cute before Jimin had a chance to.

“What are we? 10 years old?” You snapped.

Jimin narrowed his eyes before shoving his fist out. He played paper. Taehyung played scissors. Jimin declared defeat, kicking his chair in frustration.Taehyung shook his fists in victory before approaching you with open arms.

“I didn’t agree to this, you brat!” You protested, fending his arms away. “I was Jimin’s girlfriend last time, now people are going to think I’m fucking you all!”

Taehyung immediately morphed into your little Tae. Doe eyes and all. “But I won paper, scissors, rock,” he mumbled sadly.

You groaned, unable to deny him. And honestly, why should you care what those drunk people downstairs thought of you.

“Fine.”

He joined your foreheads together, half headbutting you in his excitement. “Thank you ____,” he said before squishing your cheek against his own and squeezing the life out of you. You acted a dead weight until he was done.

“Ready?” Yoongi asked, hand on the doorknob.

You nodded, the other two meekly doing the same. It was a thrill actually attending these parties. It was never the same music or people and never the same dramas. As evil as it sounded, you were excited to see the dilemmas the boys would inevitably find themselves in this time. First stop, the kitchen, because you needed popcorn.

On cue, a few girls squealed and muttered to each other very loudly as you all descended. Taehyung had his arm draped around your shoulders in the most nonchalant way possible. You barely recognised it there before he’d occasionally yank on your neck to whisper in your ear. The looks you were given, you could only imagine criminals being looked at the same. It was beyond pathetic and absolutely hilarious. You could see the jealousy and frustration behind their eyes; that expression of realisation that they couldn’t have everything despite their parents enforcing they could. And being the bitch you were, you smiled at them and batted your lashes before shoving a hand down Taehyung’s back pocket. The gasps echoed through the room, it was iconic.

Jimin stuck himself strategically between yourself and Yoongi, who was leading the way. Before you all could make it even halfway into the living room, Jimin had ignored and ran away from his name whined thrice. The fourth time was gradually closer and he flinched like the soft baby he was, before picking up his speed. You didn’t mean to laugh at him but you did. He just looked so cute and small and scared, sticking to Yoongi like glue. His eyes almost popped out its sockets as this tall brunette came strutting up them, flipping her hair and winking. Now you felt bad, knowing Jimin would be petrified to tell this girl he wasn’t interested. To his relief, Yoongi had it sussed. With a flick of a wrist, he shooed her away, denying her the time of day. Jimin mumbled an apology at the girl’s baffled expression, before scurrying back to his friend’s side.

“Jiminie you’re so cute when you’re scared,” you teased him as you all finally made it to the kitchen.

He gave you a fake smile before flipping you off accordingly.

“Even his middle finger is cute,” Taehyung cooed, leaping over to him and grabbing his hand. “Look at his little hands!”

Seeing red, Jimin grabbed a loaf of bread, probably left on the counter by a drunken party goer trying to sober up and hurled it at Taehyung as he ran away.

“Ah!” Taehyung bellowed. “Violence is never the answer,” he joked, laughing like a madman.

The cocaine was definitely kicking in.

Just before Jimin could fire back, Yoongi was ordering for someone to text Hoseok. You volunteered, pulling out your phone as Taehyung draped an arm around your shoulder again and tried to feed you bread. You were beginning to regret agreeing to come downstairs with faded Tae. Drugs and crowds didn’t mesh well with him. He’d either be swinging from the chandelier or passed out in a closet and you were not in the mood for that sort of babysitting. You needed Hoseok, he always knew what to do these situations. They were his parties after all. You texted him your whereabouts. The kitchen was the most quiet room in the house on a saturday so it was always the meet up spot.

“I texted him,” you told Yoongi.

Yoongi nodded, too busy frowning at his lit up screen to answer. “Jin’s here.”

“That’s my cue!” You declared, ducking out of Taehyung’s embrace.

“Where are you going?” Taehyung asked in a panic.

“Where my brother isn’t. Can’t exactly let him think the coke is for me now can we?”

“But it is for you?” Taehyung questioned, scratching his head in confusion.

You sighed, patting his cheek pitifully.

“I’ll text you when he’s gone,” Yoongi said and you peered around Taehyung to nod at him.

You were praying that Jin either hadn’t entered the house yet or wandered off into the crowds. In order for you to sneak back upstairs, you had to actually get to the stairs and they were exactly opposite the front door. You were extremely cautious on your journey so far, zipping and weaving with your head down. Salvation was in sight. But just your luck, a voice hollered - your brother’s voice. You froze, contemplating just pretending you didn’t hear him but you knew that would be even more suspicious. You took a deep breath and turned around.

Jin hadn’t seen you. He wasn’t calling you. The person he was talking to hid from your view with the help of a few people at least a foot taller than you. Whoever it was had Jin’s full attention so it wasn’t a deal and it had you beyond curious. Jin didn’t have a lot of friends and the few he did have did not match the silhouette of the boy he was now talking to. You craned your neck for a better look, dying to know who it was.

Then Jin spotted you. Then said person turned around.

Your blood ran cold when your eyes locked. Time slowed down. Your heart was pounding in your chest, it felt strong but delayed. Your vision went blurry, everyone around you moved in slow motion. You didn’t even notice Jin shaking you and yelling, because your complete capacity to comprehend was fixated on him. What the fuck was he doing here? He smirked at you like he could read your mind. He emitted villainy with his long coat and black hair, looking like he was here to collect your soul. It was frightening, he was frightening. The aura that ran in his bloodline.

“What are you doing down here?” Jin had been questioning for the last ten seconds, although your ears only just begun to clarify his words.

“What is he doing here?” You croaked in panic and betrayal. “Why are you talking to him?!”

“Jin!” Hoseok bellowed with a chuckle, walking into an absolute shit storm without even realising. “I didn’t know you were making an appearance tonight!”

God, you loved Hoseok. His constant radiance and cheer never failed to make you happy… until now. And it made you want to cry to think even your precious Hobi couldn’t make this all ok.

“Why is she down here?” Jin interrogated him. “And why is she alone?!”

Hoseok was taken aback and let out a nervous chuckle. “Ah, sorry. She was with the others when I left.”

Then Hoseok spotted him and with a smile, went to greet him.

“Hello!” He greeted cheerfully before shaking his hand, “I’m Hoseok, please make yourself at home!”

You were cringing. He didn’t deserve your Hobi’s hospitality.

“Yeah, I know,” his deep voice replied. “I’ve been here before.”

“Oh!” Hoseok’s exclaimed, still serving his warm welcoming. “I’m sorry this is the first time we’ve met. I didn’t catch your name?”

“Namjoon.”

Hoseok just grinned like the ray of sunshine he was, completely unaware of who exactly was standing in front of him. And that was your fault. You hadn’t told the boys about Namjoon and a certain someone he was related to. Instead you just prayed this day would never come, that you would never have to be in his presence and face your past again. You should have told them. You should have told them. Hoseok was a networker and here he was, attempting to establish a connection and bond with Namjoon without knowing who he really was. Without knowing who his family was and who his family was to you. You had to save him.

“Go upstairs,” Jin ordered you one final time.

You were about to protest. There was no way you could leave without Hoseok, without telling him what was going on before it came from someone else’s mouth.

“I’d rather she didn’t,” Namjoon interrupted. “We need to catch up! It’s been awhile.”

“I have nothing to say to you!” You spat, nowhere near as confidently as you would have liked.

The chuckle that escaped his lips was dark and taunting. “Not even a ‘how are you? How is your family after I ran their reputation into the ground?!’”

You flinched away from him, shaking your head as if he was a hallucination and you could will him away.

“That wasn’t ____, that was your brother,” Jin defended you, stepping in front of him to shield you.

“Step aside,” Namjoon threatened so calmly it was scary.

“No.”

“I just need to talk to her.”

“No.”

Namjoon smirked. “Still fighting her battles huh?”

“Until the day I die.”

The tension was undeniable. You wanted to disappear as strangers quietened to watch the drama unfold. You must have looked as distressed as you felt because soon Hoseok was in front of you, your cheeks in his palms. He did this to prevent your panic attacks, sensing them before you could hit the ground, wailing.

“They’re all staring Hobi please.”

With a nod, he announced the party was over. Groans emitted everywhere, however everyone was quick to disperse. Within a few minutes the music was off and the foyer was empty.

“What’s going on-”

Taehyung, Jimin and Yoongi waltzed in, confusion plastered on their faces.

“Nothing! I’ll meet you guys upstairs.”

You forced a smile and it only made the three of them more uneasy. They each took a step forward, planting themselves within the situation. They were there to stay. You were dreading what they would think of you after this was over. You couldn’t bear it. This wasn’t happening.

Taehyung seemed to have sobered up, all staunch with a look of concern. “What’s going on?” He repeated.

“Nothing!” Namjoon chuckled. “I’m just checking up on my lil bro’s girl, that’s all.”

“What?” Jimin uttered, eyes bulging at you.

“She’s not his girl anymore,” Jin corrected, looking over his shoulder at your friends.

“She didn’t tell him that,” Namjoon argued. “Actually, she didn’t tell him anything at all because she’s the reason he’s where he is now and she probably still hates herself for it. What kind of person does that to the love of their life?”

“Wait, who?” Yoongi questioned, as far the boys knew you had never had a boyfriend.

The rage was building inside of you, your panic attack long forgotten.

“Ah! Of course you didn’t tell him. Little ____, always running away from her problems,” he continued to patronise and insult you. “Always running away from the consequences.”

That was it. You were charging, shoving Jin and Hoseok out of the way.

“You don’t know shit about me!” You yelled at him.

“Yeah not anymore,” he scoffed, looking down at you with discontempt, “but I did once. Who are you now?”

“This is me,” you huffed, “when I’m not in love with him.”

“Ah,” he sighed while scratching the back of his head nervously. “He’s not going to like that.”

“So that’s why you’re here? To relay him closure?” You sassed, unable to stop yourself. “You can tell that fucker that we were over from the moment he-”

“You can tell him yourself,” Namjoon interrupted with a sly smile.

“Now why would I go see him?” You bellowed, incredulously. “I never want to see his face again!”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes at your crazed ones.

“Ok, I guess I’ll have to tell him then. He’s not going to be very forgiving hearing it from me.”

You grimaced, completely unimpressed. “Do I look like I give a shit?”

“No,’ he deadpanned, “and you’re gonna regret it.”

“I doubt it.”

“I’m not buying it,” he taunted.

“How?!”

“A love, like what you two had, doesn’t just go away,” he stated, “no matter how much of a bitch you’ve become or pretend to be.”

As soon as the word bitch came out of Namjoon’s mouth, Hoseok stepped in. “Ok time for you to leave, asshole.”

Namjoon cackled. “I’m not the asshole here,” he said, staring you down.

Trying to avoid his gaze, you stole quick glances at the boys. They we all silent, speechless. The looks on their faces were of utter disbelief as the gears began to gradually turn. You weren’t as perfect as they thought you were, as you portray yourself to be. And you could see it, that question in their eyes as they stared at you - who are you? This was not how you wanted them to find out. It made you absolutely livid, even more so now that this image of your former self was being painted by someone else. And that this someone else was playing coy enough for them to fill in the blanks with the worst they could imagine.

Why the fuck did we come downstairs?

“Why are you here, Namjoon?” You asked him one last time, through gritted teeth.

“To remind you ____!” He yelled and his deep voice boomed and echoed through the high ceilings. “You were family once, you know, and you can’t escape family.”

Namjoon spun on his heel and made his leave. You wanted to yell after him and demand what he meant but as he walked further and further away, your heart rate and breathing began to settle. The nightmare was almost over, he was almost gone. Suddenly, to your dismay, he stopped at the front door and you tensed noticeably.

“I’ll see you around. Sleep well,” he said with a wink before slamming the door closed behind him.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Taehyung attempt to engage with you, confused as ever. But before he had a chance to bombard you with questions, Jin held an arm against his chest.

“Take her upstairs and don’t let her out of your sight,” Jin ordered Taehyung coldly and then glanced at the rest of them. “Don’t let her come home for a couple of days, just while I sort this out.”

You scoffed, anger still coursing through you. You gave your brother a harsh look to express your disdain at his actions, at his emotionless attempt to protect you while disregarding your feelings and existence. Although his words were somewhat sweet - he couldn’t even give you a hug or check if you were ok? He could be so cold and clueless and inconsiderate sometimes, just like your father. It truly sickened you. You couldn’t face him any longer.

As soon as you ran upstairs, Taehyung stopped Jin for answers.

“Wait-”

“She’ll explain everything and try your best to be understanding when she does.”

“What about you?” Jimin chimed in.

“I’ll be fine,” Jin reassured them. “Just please, keep her safe.”

Jin looked at Yoongi especially and he nodded.

“Of course.”

And with that, Jin chucked his best friend your cocaine and made his leave.

You had hopped into Hoseok’s bed. By the time you felt four weights sink into the mattress around you, your anger had subsided into humiliation and dread. It was Jimin that convinced you to poke your head out from under the covers and the view was beautiful. Your four boys surrounded you, faces full of concern and love. Hoseok was lying next to you, Jimin sitting on your other side and Taehyung and Yoongi on the foot of the bed. All of them, ready and waiting for your explanation.

“We just want you to know,” Yoongi began, “no matter how bad it was, what you did, who you fucked - we don’t care. We still love you, ____.”

And as you sat up, you were in tears.

“I don’t even know where to start!”

“How about the beginning?” Hoseok suggested with a warm smile.

He always made things sound so easy. You snivelled, wiping your tears with Jimin’s help.

“It was about four years ago,” you began with a deep breath. “I was young and stupid and I thought I was in love. And you know, that kind of love can be really blinding.”

Having to actually talk about this, talk about him, brought horrible feelings of shame and regret that you thought you’d never have to experience again. And you couldn’t keep the tears from falling.

“Fuck, I really hate seeing her cry,” Taehyung murmured, unable to look at you.

“You don’t have to tell us if it’s too hard ____,” Jimin informed you sweetly.

“No,” you protested, “I can’t keep this a secret from you guys anymore. You deserve to know.”

“Ok, just take it slow,” Yoongi soothed you.

And so you did.

You met in high school. He was a bad boy, the bad boy that every guy was afraid of and every girl wanted to be tainted by. He drove this old mustang that roared through the school parking lot, half an hour after classes began and during recess. He smoked cigarettes and never wore colour. Everyone knew him but no one was friends with him, including you. You never took any interest in him or sought him out because embarrassingly, your world revolved around your girlfriends and the next social event. Occasionally, you’d see him at a party. He’d be hiding in the shadows, until he’d find his prey. It was always the most conservative girl, the one who’d look like she didn’t belong there. And then on Monday, she’d walk into class with a scarf around her neck, wincing while she’d lower herself onto her seat. The boys in class would snigger and one would slap him on the back. It made you livid. So many times you’d want to turn around and shout how disgusting he was but you never did, not wanting the inconvenience that would follow a proper interaction.

You were polar opposites and while that repelled you, it intrigued him. He’d always stare at you shamelessly in calculus. He’d always sit behind you and fiddle with your hair with his pencil in history. Despite this unwanted attention from him, it wasn’t too bothersome and frankly you were too scared to do anything substantial about it. He wasn’t charming. He didn’t send you winks or blow you kisses when your eyes met and he didn’t smirk or chuckle when you turned around to slap his pencil out of his hand. He’d only stare, challenging you to confront him properly. Challenging you to strut up to him after school where he always was, leaning against the hood of his car with a cigarette between his fingers and tell him to leave you the fuck alone. And for a good three years, you didn’t. You ignored his existence and never spoke a word to him. He was only an insignificant stereotype in your adolescent life. An irrelevant convention in your coming of age story.

“What changed?” Jimin questioned, knowing where the story was going.

You sighed.

“Dad made me heir to half of the business.”

You never wanted to inherit anything from your parents. You saw what the politics and money did to their relationships and your family. Reputation was all they cared about and what a better way to ruin that for them but to have a disgrace of a daughter. You thought, surely, if you did something so scandalous you would be written off and deemed an unworthy successor.

But, you were pristine from birth. You gravitated towards people with good grades and clothes and makeup pastel in colour. You really needed to leap out of your comfort zone for your plan to work. So, in a mindset of spite and determination, you strutted up to the boy leaning against the hood of his car with a cigarette between his fingers.

His eyes widened when you stopped in front of him. He was dressed in his signature skin tight ripped jeans with a black tee tucked in. The contrast between you two was immense and you couldn’t help thinking how it looked to the other students roaming around.

"Are you lost?” He asked you through a chuckle.

“No,” you snapped, readjusting the three textbooks in your arms.

He raised an eyebrow before walking around his car to slam down the hood. His car was known for breaking down and it wasn’t surprising considering the way he drove it. However it did wonders for his game, the girls at your school swooned for a grease monkey and admittedly, he pulled the look off tenfold. He tapped the hood twice for his brother to pump the gas.

“You wanna go out sometime?” You yelled at him over his loud engine.

“What?” He yelled back.

You rolled your eyes. “I said, do you wanna go out sometime?!”

He shook his head and pointed to his ear, insinuating he still couldn’t hear you. At this point, you were beginning to regret it. It was like the heavens were giving you a chance to escape from this idiotic idea. You almost turned to leave. You wish you did. God, you wish you did.

“DO YOU WANNA GO OUT SOMETIME?”

While fighting your inner turmoil as to whether you should have backed out or not, he had signalled to his brother to cut the engine. Everyone stopped and stared as your proposal seemed to have echoed through the parking lot. He chuckled, half rubbing his eye, half covering his face in second hand embarrassment. It was the first time you had ever seen him smile. His teeth, perfectly white and straight, were on full display. He looked like a little bunny boy, misplaced in leather with a cigarette. And surprisingly, it was really cute and your heart fluttered a bit.

“Hey! We don’t need to hear how much you were throbbing for this guy ok?” Taehyung cried.

Yoongi slapped the back of his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Look, if I’m going to tell this story, I’m telling all of it.”

They all nodded, signalling for you to continue.

“So she finally came around huh?” His brother chuckled, hopping out of the driver’s seat and slamming the door.

He refused to acknowledge him, staring holes into you. You started shuffling your feet, your nerves getting the better of you, worrying you just embarrassed yourself for nothing.

“You better give her an answer lil bro, she’s getting anxious,” he teased.

“You can go now Joon,” he disregarded him.

“‘Wow, thanks so much for helping me fix my car Namjoon, best brother ever!’” Namjoon jested.

He shot Namjoon a death glare and Namjoon raised his hands in surrender. “Ok, I’ll see you at home. Nice to meet you-”

“____,” you introduced as he jumped into his Range Rover and sped off just like his brother did everyday since you’d known of him.

Must run in the family, you thought.

“So?” You began.

“Why?”

You gulped, eyes doubling in size.

“Because, I want to?” You expressed in the most convincing tone you could muster.

“Are you sure about that?” He questioned again teasingly.

You scoffed, “Well, now, not really!”

He chuckled again at your irritability, something he wouldn’t quit from that moment on.

“Miss pristine wouldn’t just ask someone like me out,” he theorised.

“And why not?” You bit back, getting fed up with his hesitation.

You were not used to actually working for things instead of them being handed to you on a silver platter.

“Because look at you!” He pointed at you with his cigarette. “And I’ve been sussing you for years and you didn’t even have the time of day to tell me to fuck off.”

“What if I didn’t want you to?”

“HA! Bullshit. Go run back to the football field with your little cheerleader friends and Doug the buff doofus yeah?“

“Ugh please!” You whined, “Just go out with me ok?”

“She’s begging me now.”

“If you wanna put it that way, fine! Yes I am.”

“But why?” He probed once more.

This guy was not an idiot, to your dismay. It was easy to be convinced otherwise because he was hardly in class and when he was, his attention with fixated on you three quarters of the time. This was supposed to be easy. First, you had no attachment to him whatsoever and you weren’t attracted to him or his look. And second, he had been obsessing over you for the last three years, he should have jumped at the opportunity. But instead he was intuitive, perceptive, so you decided to be honest.

“Look, I just want to piss off my parents.”

He grinned.

“Ok,” he said before flicking his cigarette and walking to the driver’s door.

“Ok? Ok what?” You questioned, unable to play cool or bad or anything to attract this boy.

“I’ll pick you up at 8,“ he bellowed at you as he hopped into his car.

“Oh! Like in your car?” You asked, bending down to speak to him through his passenger side window.

“Well what else, my scooter?“ He chuckled.

“You have a scooter?!” You asked.

“Do I look like I own a scooter?“

You ignored that comment with a frown and he chuckled again. He turned his car on and attacked his gearshift.

"Wait! You don’t know my address? And where are we going?”

“Yes I do princess, and just wear that little white skirt you always wear on Wednesdays,” he smirked and then sped off.

“So this guy is basically a more stalkerish Taehyung?” Yoongi interrupted.

“Hey! So she has a type, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Taehyung defended himself.

“No that’s not the point-” you began.

“____, falling for the bad guy isn’t something to be ashamed of,” Hoseok added with a smile, “don’t beat yourself up.”

“Guys would you let her finish? She’s obviously telling us this for reason.”

You gave Jimin a look of gratitude.

“Exactly, you guys need to hear the normalcy to understand how it ended up the way it did,” you explained, “you need to understand he was just a guy, like all of you. Because otherwise you won’t by the time I’m finished.”

That shut them up, but you knew it was only temporarily.

You wished you took a picture of your parents’ faces when he pulled into your driveway. Instead of coming inside like a gentleman, he slammed on his horn. Nice touch, you thought as you ran downstairs while your parents’ bombarded you with questions. He honked the horn again and wolf whistled at you when you emerged from out the front door. Once he saw your parents in tow, he flicked his headlights off. Through the windscreen he looked like a parents’ nightmare with his leather jacket, cigarette and gaze that screamed trouble. And to top it all off, he smacked your ass when you ran past the driver’s side window.

“____ ______! I’m giving you three seconds to get your ass back inside,” your dad growled.

You ignored him, hopping into the passenger’s side.

“Sorry pops, her ass is mine tonight,” he yelled back through his window.

You could just make out your mum threatening to call the police as he sped out your driveway. You hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time.

“That was amazing!” You shrieked in delight, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but, I’ve never felt so… alive.”

He chuckled before slamming his foot down on the gas, going at least 80 kilometres per hour. You squealed.

“You better get used to it princess, we’re just getting started.”

Every friday for a month he took you to his brother’s parties, got you drunk and dropped you home at four in the morning. And then did the same the next night. Namjoon’s parties on a Saturday night were always more packed than on a Friday.

You never knew anyone there apart from him, so you were shameless. He found you quite entertaining. Instead of lurking around in silence like you’d witnessed him do at every party, he was engaging. He never left your side, fending away guys and laughing at your lame jokes and ramblings. He was so different to what you had expected. He was nice and somewhat chivalrous. To your surprise, you had spent midnight with him eight times and it came and went without him making a single move.

“You’re not how I’d thought you would be,” you admitted on the fourth weekend, once he dragged you outside so he could have a cigarette.

He raised an eyebrow at you and ashed. “How so?”

“You haven’t tried anything,” you gushed blatantly. “Am I not conservative or innocent enough for you?”

He threw his head back and cackled.

“Baby, you’re perfect,” he confessed without hesitation, “but you’re not ready for me.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and cannot handle!”

He chuckled again. “Don’t overthink it. Let’s just enjoy the night, yeah?”

“You might as well just tell me not to breathe,” you retorted.

He grinned at you before pulling you against him.

"I thought I was only a means to piss off your parents,” he whispered in your ear.

The grip he had on your waist was rough. You could tell it was an act of lust alone and that’s not you wanted. It wasn’t what you were asking for. You could understand why he’d assume you’d want it this way as you’d never insinuated you wanted anything remotely affectionate from him when sober. You had to set the record straight.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t like you too,” you mumbled shyly.

He jerked back to look into your eyes suspiciously. His arms around you tensed. You were delving in dangerous waters called feelings. It was not what you signed up for and he knew it too.

“I call bullshit.“

"Why’d you think I stayed away from you all these years?! Because I knew if I had a taste of you I’d be screwed,” you blurted, now with nothing to lose.

He smirked, shaking his head as if you had gone crazy.

“It’s been a month, don’t pretend you don’t feel the same as I do,” you said softly.

He didn’t answer that, instead his eyes went dark and narrow. You took half a step back. Your little white skirt suddenly became very interesting as you fiddled with it anxiously. You could feel his eyes on you and his second hand smoke fanning your face. He flicked the butt away before grabbing your face and squishing your cheeks in one hand aggressively.

“Don’t you fucking dare assume our feelings are mutual,” he growled, “you don’t want anything to do with me! You never did!”

He stormed off, shoving you aside. You knew why he was angry. Understandably, he thought you were fucking him around, taking advantage of the soft spot he held for you. As far as he was concerned, you weren’t interested. During the week you’d go back to pretending he didn’t exist, too scared of what people thought. But what he didn’t know was that you were falling for him, hard.

He was different with you. Throughout your weekends together he revealed a side of himself hardly anyone had the privilege of seeing. He was caring and reliable and loyal in his own fantastically unique way. And boy, was he a good time. Traits, you couldn’t experience with your friends and their lack of depth. He was real and it was so refreshing in your existence of superficiality. He changed your life and view on everything. And now you were mad that you couldn’t just swallow your pride and protect his heart.

You eventually followed him outside and found him on the couch with his brother and his friends. They were laughing and it seemed he’d just forgotten all about you. He was the epitome of hot and cold.

“Take me home,” you demanded, interrupting their conversation.

He looked up at you, his grin dropping into a grimace. He sighed and got up while his boys booed and threw their empty beer cans at him. He motioned for you to take the lead while he bid his friends farewell, slapping a few hands.

The car ride was silent apart from his rock anthems mixtape still playing from the car ride to. It was weird not screaming out the lyrics with him. It was just weird full stop. Despite him speeding past intersections and red lights, it felt like the trip was in slow motion.

When you got to your house, you found the gates closed. They normally were and he’d give you boost so you could climb over. Tonight was no different. You got out of the car before him, wanting to get away from the enclosed tension as quick as possible. You refused to acknowledge him as you heard his car door slam. The shuffling of his feet got louder and soon his hands were on your waist, ready to lift you.

“Wait,” you spoke to him for the first time since you’d left the party, shoving his hands off of you.

He scoffed.

“You know what? I’m done!”

He was irritated and when he got in these moods, it was difficult for him to escape them. He was about to storm off but he paused and turned to rasp at you.

“Don’t ask me for anything ever again-”

You don’t know what came over you but before you could stop yourself your hands were in his hair and you were kissing him, hard. He caught your weight effortlessly as you practically threw your body at him. You could sense the relief by the way his shoulders just completely relaxed, as if this kiss cured all the anguish in his heart. As if this kiss proved he hadn’t just wasted three years of his life pining after a girl that he would never have.

You were getting carried away, especially when you pushed your tongue into his mouth. He growled, lifting you off your feet and adjusting your thighs around his waist as if you weighed nothing. He had to stretch his neck up to keep his lips against yours as he took a few steps towards his car and delicately laid you down on the bonnet. You were starting to get wanton with him leaning over you, his body engulfing your smaller frame entirely. You were surrounded, suffocated and you indulged. He felt like a drug, and you were an amateur, extra susceptible to the addiction. When he started pulling your hair back roughly and biting your lip when you’d separate, it had you begging for more. Your legs wrapped around him. You couldn’t help letting the little moans escape your lips. It was the danger that coincided with him, the taboo nature of it all. He was bad for you. It was wrong for you to get involved with him. You knew it from the start but the attraction to him and the idea of him was too strong. You made your bed, now you were lying in it.

Before he could slip a hand under your skirt, your porch light lit up and the automatic front gate opened. Your dad screaming for you to get inside, forced you two apart. He let you go with a smirk and then turned to bellow a smartass remark at your dad, who then told him to fuck off.

“Don’t you ever try to break up with me again,” you warned him, walking backwards towards your summoner.

His hair was a mess and his lipstick stained mouth stretched into a boyish grin. His whole demeanour had transformed back into the boy who dazzled you with his cold kindness and genuineness. And as ridiculous as it sounded, you knew, just then, that you were in love with him. It didn’t need to be spoken or labelled or justified. He had you as much as you had a hold on him. From that moment on, you were his.

The looks on the boys faces screamed they were relayed too much information. Taehyung’s was morphed the most.

“I’m gonna barf,” he groaned with a grimace.

Yoongi rolled his eyes at him. “Do you want to hear the story or not?!”

“I’m not too sure anymore,” he admitted with distaste.

“Just because it wasn’t you between her thighs,” Jimin provoked him.

Taehyung jaw clenched and he almost pounced at his friend. Yoongi held him down.

“Ignore them, ____,” Hoseok reassured you, squeezing your hand he’d been holding this entire time.

“Fine, I’m jealous! Who is this guy?!” Taehyung exasperated, fed up with the mystery and ego hurt by an unidentified character.

They all fell into silence. Taehyung was always the one to speak what the others thought. You knew they were dying to know who he was, but this was the only way you were able to share this story. You took a deep breath, deciding to be kind and give them his first name, common and a far link from his notoriety.

“His name was Jungkook.”

Your parents didn’t know his name. They didn’t care to know. To them his name was dropkick, druggie, lowlife and any other related pet names. Frankly, you didn’t care what they thought anymore. When they offered to let you out of your inheritance, you declined because it was under the condition you break with him. Every offer they gave you was under the condition you break up with him. Needless to say, you refused every time. Nothing could make you happier than Jungkook did.

For the rest of your last year of high school, you and Jungkook were inseparable. On the monday after that first kiss, Jungkook picked you up and drove you to school. Every head turned as you hopped out of his car and slid under his arm. You two were the talk of the school and eventually it pushed your friends away. You were the most popular pristine girl in school gone wayward. And you didn’t give a fuck. Jungkook was the only thing that matter to you, your world revolved around him now.

After few months, you changed. The influence of him was too dominant to resist. Gone were the pink fluffy sweaters and pony tails, replaced with one of his many leather jackets and wild hair. It was a classic Sandra-dee transformation. And despite Jungkook’s weakness for little innocent girly girls, he loved it. You were his good girl gone bad, he’d tease.

“Fuck, I would die for you, ____,” he groaned through a kiss.

You were in his lap, his lap in the driver’s seat. He had parked outside a diner you’d go for late night milkshakes. His gear shift dug into your side and your head banged against the roof, but there was no place you’d rather be.

“Uh huh,” you replied, refusing to leave his lips for longer than a second.

“I’m serious, I would die and kill for you.”

You pulled away, leaning against the steering wheel. He’d never use the word love. Instead he would use intense alternatives, he adored you, he never felt anything remotely the same as he felt for you, you were the only one, he never wanted anything as much as he wanted you. It was like he had this unwavering insecurity you’d leave him, that he’d scare you away with the word ‘love’. As contradicting as that sounded by the things he’d say instead.

“Let’s hope you’ll never have to,” you murmured, running a hand through his hair in comfort.

“But I would,” he reiterated softly.

There was such intensity in his eyes it made you shiver. And you believed him. You believed he loved you that much. And shamefully, the thought went straight to your core.

“Take me home.”

Jungkook looked bewildered then his eyes drifted away from you in disappointment, his jaw clenched. He patted your thigh to signal for you to hop back into your seat. You refused, grabbing his face and grinding into his growing bulge.

“Take me home.”

His dark eyes lit up with pure desire. He cocked an eyebrow before smirking and attacking your face one last time. You threw yourself back into your seat with a giggle. Jungkook drove like a madman, but the way he reversed and sped down the road that night truly topped the cake.

Sparing the details, you fucked that night and to this day, Jungkook was the best you ever had. He was rough as fuck and forced your orgasms but at the same time, he appreciated your body. He listened to it and soothed it after doing all the kinky shit he was into. It was fair to say you were ruined, a complete sap for him, as much as he was for you. You never thought you would have such a high sex drive. You never thought you would ever be as needy for anything as much as you were for his cock. But that’s what you turned into - what Jungkook did to you. You always had to be around him, always with him, always touching him.

It was a month before graduation and you had flunked. Whenever he would ditch, you would too. Thankfully both your parents were rich and could buy your grades. They made it too easy for you both. You both had no desire to do anything, except each other.

It was a week before graduation, before you’d be sent to university overseas and him, forced into the family business as his father’s precious protégée. They were separating you. Your worlds were ending. You both weren’t ready for the responsibility or the heartbreak.

It was a few days before graduation and you were on your Friday night cruise, screaming the lyrics to rock ballads as Jungkook drove a hundred kilometres per hour. Every now and then, he’d grab and suck your face hotly, eyes off the road for seconds too long. The thrill was almost unbearable, as if you’d be close to losing not only your life but your sanity.

He parked in a secluded reserve overlooking a lake, the stars shimmering in the water. You drifted into quiet, savouring the moment, knowing they were limited. The soft guitar riffs from the car stereo set this serene, longing mood. Jungkook’s hand slid between your thighs, a plea for you to come over and straddle him, so you did. You wriggled yourself comfortable without the familiar feeling of rock pushing into your inner thigh, which confused you because he was usually a goner as soon as your clothed core would simply brush against him. He trapped your head between his calloused palms, always slightly tinged black from grease. His eyes held that intensity that made you weak and they glazed over at the sight of you. You could faintly make out your silhouette in his dilated pupils and it gave you an overwhelming need to stay there, in his eyes forever. You ignored that deep darkness behind them that you always had sensed was there. You wanted to believe he was perfect, because he damn felt like it.

“Listen,” he began, clearly something important on his mind.

“Runaway with me,” you breathed, connecting foreheads.

His eye widened, his skepticism emerging and he retracted.

“Don’t,” you whimpered. “I love you Jungkook and I can’t bare the thought of not being with you for even a second please.”

He searched your face for any hint of hesitation, but there was none.

“She’s begging me now,” he chuffed with a satisfied smirk.

"I love you Jungkook,” you repeated, now unsure if he heard you the first time.

You both fell into a silence that lasted way longer than you would have liked. You hated when he did this to you, leaving you in suspense. However as much as you hated it, it also intrigued you. It was the mystery of him that had you hooked. You thought he would wail at your confession and suffocate you with his lips but instead, he stared. He was unpredictable and wavering and it tortured you. But like the masochist you were, you loved it because it was undeniably him and you were in love with him.

“Ok,” he finally said, before turning the key in the ignition.

His engine roared to life and you flopped into your seat.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s something you need to see,” he admitted.

You only nodded when he took his eyes off the road for a second to look at you. You could tell it was serious by the way his knuckles protruded clutched to the steering wheel and the way his jaw clenched and sharpened. Jungkook was intense about a lot of things, but you had never seen him before in the way he was then. His vibe wasn’t awkward or brooding or anything identifiable as Jungkook. It was like you were in the car with someone else entirely.

When Jungkook pulled up to the front of the dive bar ‘Hunt’, you were beginning to get uneasy. You knew this bar and it’s red neon sign and it’s grotty exterior. It was notorious. Your little sheltered self began to panic.

“Jungkook-”

“Do you trust me?” He interrupted, forcing eye contact.

Instantly, your racing heart calmed. Your breathing steadied. The power he had over you, unfaltered.

“With my life.”

“Good,” he kissed your forehead and smiled, “I won’t be long, stay.”

And you did. He slammed the door behind him and searched for something in his back pocket. A man sat outside the bar and Jungkook seemed to be heading straight for him. He stopped after discovering his pockets empty, his boots scraped the wet concrete as he turned and sent a wink your way. You narrowed your eyes and scoffed at his cheap attempt to be charming. As you watched Jungkook backtrack towards you through the windshield, you spotted his cigarette packet on the dashboard.You weren’t a big smoker then. Jungkook never offered and you were always too shy to ask. However it did make him smile when you’d pinch one from his packet or pull his hand towards your face for a drag of his already lit.

You helped yourself, wincing as the smoke burned your throat. You were too busy coughing and manually winding the window down to notice Jungkook slamming his boot closed. You eyes were watering a bit too much for you to see what he dragged across concrete as he walked back towards the man outside the bar. Even without these setbacks, nothing would be able to prepare or warn you for what happened next…

The man stood up once he recognised Jungkook.

“Jeon, what the fuck man you’re early?” You heard him bellow. “Suk isn’t here yet and you know he’ll run if he sees you.”

“Suk isn’t the job anymore,” Jungkook replied coolly.

Jungkook stopped directly under the neon sign. The fluorescent light shone down upon him tinting his black silhouette the colour of blood. He was shorter than the other man however his presence was stronger, more menacing, almost demonic with the red hue highlighting his frame. His back was facing you but you could just sense the stare he was giving this man. It was his infamous stare down his perfect nose, jawline protruding, with that borderline frightening smirk. You knew the look at too well. But this was different, his body language was different and you were struggling to put your finger on how. And the fear of this unknown side of Jungkook had your mind reeling.

What the fuck was going on?

“What?” the man exclaimed, “What do you mean?”

“He’s not the job anymore,” Jungkook reiterated.

His tone was so foreign to you, it made you shift uncomfortably in your seat. It was like the voice coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth wasn’t your boyfriend’s at all. It was cold and dark but not the cold and dark you’d normally associate with him. No, this tone was twisted, monotone but mocking.

“So? No job?” The man questioned apprehensively.

Jungkook chuckled. “Oh, there’s still a job.”

You were too immersed in the conversation and trying to figure out who this mystery man was. So much so, you didn’t see what Jungkook was holding. Your eyes followed his toned arms that you’d relish within when he held you, all the way down to the hands and palms you’d kiss lovingly, all the way down to the bat his hand held. A baseball bat with nails sticking out like a fucking medieval mace. Your whole body went numb.

“You.”

Before you had a chance to scream, Jungkook had swung his bat and lodged it into the man’s skull. The most sadistic noise you had ever heard left his mouth, it was like a satisfied grunt and then a manic howl. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t function or process. You just sat there and watched as the life left a man’s eyes… by your boyfriend’s hand.

As he ripped his weapon free, the man’s blood and brains sprayed everywhere, Quentin Tarantino style. If you had to vomit you swallowed it as Jungkook took another swing. The guy was dead but he took two extra blows to his chest, cackling. He was enjoying it. The blood, the gore, the violence, he seemed to indulge in his work, his sick artistry. And that’s what truly made you terrified and disgusted to the very core.

You were frozen. Every fibre of your being was screaming at you to run, but you couldn’t as if the shock and adrenaline stunted your movements. All you could do was sit there and watch as Jungkook continued to maim a dead body, hitting it over and over, blood and flesh flying everywhere. If you could speak you would scream for him to stop, despite the fact he probably wouldn’t in his crazed trance. A few more blows to the stomach and he stopped, hovering over the human he just mutilated. His chest was heaving as he wiped his forehead with the back of his bloody hand, smearing his face red.

To say you were beyond horrified was an understatement. You found your hand itching the door handle, sensing your fight or flight mode kicking in. You only had a few seconds, you calculated. Assessing your surroundings, you figured your best shot was to run down the alleyway onto the main road screaming bloody murder, literally. You almost followed through, almost, until you realised there was no way you’d be able to outrun him. He was the star batter of the baseball team until he got kicked out of the team for starting a fight with the pitcher. He would catch you within seconds and there would be no way you’d be able to get away. He was the star wrestler until he got kicked out of the wrestling team for breaking a kid’s arm during a match. You started to panic, the only thought running through your mind being that the love of your life was about to kill you.

Your few seconds were up. As he turned to you in a snap and stormed closer, you had accepted your fate. Jungkook attempted to open your locked door and you refused to look out your window to see the disappointed look on his face. You heard him sigh and then rummage for the car keys. You winced as he slowly jiggled the key into the lock and opened the door. You still couldn’t look at him, not until his hands were on you and you were pressed up against the car door. It took every fibre of your being not to breakdown under his crazed gaze. He was even more terrifying up close, especially because he was suddenly so damn calm, as if he could snap at any moment. You willed yourself not to shake in his grasp.

“Say it again,” he mumbled.

“W-w-wha-”

“SAY IT AGAIN!”

And there it was. You would have jumped out of his grasp if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. He then grabbed a handful of your hair and cupped your face with the other hand. The blood was everywhere, all over you, the stench of copper too strong to deny was real. You really couldn’t hold it in any longer. So, you cried.

“Tell me again baby. Just- ah FUCK,” Jungkook bellowed before wiping your tears with bloody fingers. “Tell me again, those three little words. I need to hear them again.”

“I love you,” you croaked.

He smiled, that toothy grin you had fallen in love with. You choked on a sob, seeing that same smile on a blood smeared face, completely tainted. He stroked your face and cheeks affectionately, as if he wasn’t painting your face red. You naturally squirmed but tried your best to keep those reflexes at bay and unnoticed. However, surely, you could have spat in his face and he wouldn’t pay any mind to it. He was completely delirious, high off adrenaline from just taking a life and drunk in his love for you.

“I love you too.”

And then his lips were on yours, his tongue in your mouth. You reluctantly followed his lead in the kiss, overwhelmed with the smell and taste of metal, digging your nails into his biceps to stop the tears from falling. He broke away eventually and knocked his wet forehead against yours to rest. The feeling of overwhelming heartbreak was the last thing you had expected after hearing those three little words.

The four boys stared at you in silence for a good minute. You were pretty sure you heard Yoongi mutter a ‘fuck’ under his breath but you all ignored it. You really needed them to say something soon or you were sure a panic attack would be due. However, what could you expect them to say after you just told your best friends of two years that you dated a murderer?

“Wait. Did you say Jeon?!” Yoongi questioned.

You nodded.

“As in Jeon Jungkook?” Yoongi questioned further.

You nodded again.

"Jeon Jungkook? The heir to the most infamous drug cartel in the world? That Jeon Jungkook?” Yoongi questioned for a third time.

You nodded for a third time.

“Holy shit ____!” Taehyung chimed in, in an almost disappointed tone.

“Look, I sent him to prison!”

“How?!” Jimin asked, wide eyed.

You sighed, that bit of information was why Jungkook had been a secret for so long. Everyone knew he was in prison but no one knew why or how and that was because, if people knew, it was your ass and your life on the line. But, you had come this far and they deserved the whole truth.

“I told him we should run away the next day, as soon as we could but he told me he had some business he needed to take care of first and we would leave after said business, which, now I knew what that was exactly. So, I ran to my parents and got them to send an anonymous tip on my behalf, so there was no way it could be traced back to me,” you explained.

You glanced at Taehyung, ready for the ‘princess running to mummy and daddy’ dig, but it never came. So you continued.

“At first it was a drug bust, he got done for possession with intent to supply class A drugs but once they searched his car they found enough evidence to link him to at least four murders.”

In that moment you turned to Hoseok and you wished you didn’t. He had the most shocked expression on his face and you had no idea why you had expected any different. So, you turned your attention back to Yoongi who managed to hold a disinterested expression the whole time.

“Jesus,” he mumbled.

Despite those few little remarks intended to go unnoticed.

“You did the right thing, ____,” Jimin attempted to comfort you, placing a hand on your knee.

You were grateful for the reassurance however it didn’t help the fact you had to uncomfortably live your wretched past. You thought you’d feel better being honest with your friends but instead it made you feel disgusted. You guessed that you never truly mourned the loss of Jungkook. You were just forced to forget him and pretend he never existed. And that never allowed you to come to terms with the fact that the man who you thought was the love of your life was not who you thought he was entirely.

“Ok so, what did this whole story have to do with the guy from before?” Taehyung asked.

“That was Jungkook’s brother, you idiot. Weren’t you listening?” Jimin reprimanded.

Taehyung was about to rebut but you interrupted this time.

“It turns out the secret’s out and he’s off to tell Jungkook.”

“We’ll keep you as safe as we can ____,” Yoongi pledged to you.

“Of course,” Taehyung chimed in. “But, he’s in jail? What can he do?”

Yoongi shot him a look of annoyance. “You really weren’t listening to the story, were you?”

“His family are powerful Tae, more powerful than all of ours combined,” Jimin connected the dots for him. “If they know ____ was the reason their precious heir is rotting in jail, she’s in a lot of danger-”

“I’m not,” you interrupted.

All the boys looked at you like you were out of your mind.

“The Jeon brothers keep their affairs to themselves,” you explained. “They hardly ever get their family involved, they’re too proud to run to mum and dad.” Unlike me, you almost added.

“Let’s hope so,” Yoongi sighed.

“And with Jungkook in prison, Jin can handle Namjoon,” you stated, staring at Yoongi who knew that statement about your brother to be true and he nodded.

There was a brief silence until Hoseok jumped up with a huff.

“Although you are safe, here, with us. I better check all the doors are locked and there aren’t any stranglers,” he said with a small smile.

You returned it and reluctantly let him slip his hand free from yours. “Ok Hobi.”

“I’ll come help you,” Yoongi offered, knowing Hoseok’s home was too big to cover alone.

As soon as the oldest boys left, Taehyung crawled up to where Hoseok was lying and tucked himself in. Jimin tapped your thigh, signalling for you to move over so he could do the same on the other side of you. You got yourself comfortable. Sandwiched between your two best friends, gave you the strongest sense of security and relief that you hadn’t felt in a while.

“You are an amazing brave girl and we’re gonna make sure that that monster- or any other monster like him won’t touch you ever again,” Jimin whispered to you before resting his head on your back. You looked at Taehyung and he nodded in agreement.

Goddamn, you loved them. You wished you could spend forever coddled by them, you wished you could believe them. But, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, this time, you couldn’t just shove the memory of Jungkook aside. And that his chapter in your life was far from over.

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crazy-mha-twitterau · 3 years ago

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Twitter AU Part 20

Thursday, April 9. 2246

Bakugou had never been more thankful for the fact that his parents were away on a business trip last night. He didn’t have to be confronted about the villain attack on his school or why he came back home with a few mild bruises when he should’ve been strong enough to beat the villains on his own.

Bakugou froze when he heard the front door unlock. His parents were home sooner than he expected. He had hoped since they were in Paris that meant they’d at least be gone a few days. But Bakugou could never get that lucky. He sighed and stood up from the kitchen table, ready for whatever would come.

“Oi, brat,” The hag said as soon as she entered the house. “I heard you were injured in the villain attack. I always knew you were weak, but that’s pathetic. A few bruises, really? How many did you manage to take down?”

“Kirishima and I–”

“I didn’t ask about your stupid classmate, Katsuki!” His mother yelled. “I asked about how many you defeated! I’m sure this Kirishima kid is more capable than you anyway!”

“Four,” Bakugou whispered, his eyes shut. He knew the blow was coming, but he still flinched when his mother’s fist connected to his cheek.

“That’s it?!” His mother shouted, surprised and disappointed by such low numbers. “How are you supposed to be a strong hero if you can’t even defeat more than four villains without help? I read the damn news reports. Most of the villains who attacked you are small-time thugs. God, I didn’t raise a weak ass child like you, Katsuki.”

“I’m sorry,” Bakugou said hoarsely, still not moving from his position in front of the kitchen table. He was worried that if he moved it would trigger her to do something worse. She hadn’t done anything that bad since the sludge villain incident and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Get out of my sight, brat,” His mother said dismissively, giving him another disapproving glare before she went down the hall to her bedroom. It was then that Bakugou realized that his father wasn’t home. He knew better than to ask the hag where he was. He was probably finishing up their Paris thing. The hag probably came back early just to hound on him. What a bitch.

Bakugou decided to go for a run. That always helped calm him down. The repetitive motion was grounding and it helped that he was also training his body.

Midoriya Inko was worried for her son. He broke his legs and his finger during the villain attack even though Inko knew that her son could control his quirk at a lower output. If it just happened during the villain attack, Inko would’ve written it off as Izuku being scared and having no other option. But he always broke his arm during his training match with Katsuki. Inko was concerned that Izuku felt the need to go all out at the expense of his body in a training match. What was UA teaching him?

But Inko knew that this wasn’t the fault of UA. Izuku had always been reckless, saving others at the expense of himself. It was why she was so worried for her son to become a hero. She knew that his self-sacrificing nature could get him killed one day and that thought terrified her. She should’ve done something about this sooner. She felt like she failed as a mother.

“Izuku, we need to talk about the attack that happened yesterday,” Inko said, gesturing for Izuku to sit next to her on the couch.

“I told you I’m fine, Mom,” Izuku said quickly, plastering a smile on his face. “Recovery Girl healed me right up! It’s like it never even happened.”

“But how are you feeling, you know, emotionally?” Inko asked, concern evident in her voice. “The villain attack was scary, Izuku. I think it would be a good idea for you to talk to someone about it. I wanted you to be able to talk to someone after the sludge villain incident but no one would take you as a client because you were…you didn’t have a quirk at the time.”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone, Mom,” Izuku said, maintaining his smile though his tone started to become strained. “I’m fine, really. There’s no need to worry.”

“But I am worried, Izuku,” Inko sighed, placing her hand on his shoulder. “I think it would be good for you to start seeing a therapist. I think it would really help you.”

“I’m not…I don’t need anyone to help me,” Izuku said, standing up abruptly. “Sorry, but I’m not going to therapy. I’m going on a run. Bye.”

Inko let out a shaky breath. Well, that didn’t go as planned. She hoped that Izuku would at least think about it. She didn’t want to have to force her son into therapy. It would just make him resent the idea even more. She felt so lost and she didn’t know what to do.

Izuku doesn’t know why his mom wants him to go to therapy so badly. He’s doing just fine. Everyone survived the USJ attack so it’s not like he’s traumatized or anything. Therapy is for people with actual problems. He’d just be an inconvenience. There’s nothing wrong with his life. He has a strong quirk. He’s in UA’s hero course. He has friends now. There’s no reason for him to be going to therapy. He’d be wasting the therapist’s time.

Kacchan turned the corner, his shoulders stiffening when he and Izuku made eye contact. Izuku inwardly curses at the coincidence. Who would think both he and Kacchan would be going for a run at the same time?

Izuku’s eyes are drawn to the bruise on Kacchan’s cheek. Had he gotten that at the USJ attack? He hadn’t seen Kacchan since Izuku had jumped in front of All Might so it was possible he got hurt sometime after that. Though something deep in Izuku’s gut told him it was something else though he couldn’t quite figure out what.

“What happened to your cheek, Kacchan?” Izuku asked, running alongside him. He figured this could get him an explosion to the face, but he had to at least ask. It wouldn’t sit right with him if he didn’t.

“I don’t want to talk to a loser like you,” Bakugou growled as he ran faster to avoid Izuku. “Fuck off.”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed in determination. He powered up two percent of his quirk to catch up with Kacchan. “I’ll leave once you answer the question, Kacchan. Is that bruise from the USJ? I didn’t see any bruises on your face.”

Much to Izuku’s surprise, Kacchan punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind right out of him. Izuku had expected him to use his quirk, not resort to punching him. Is Kacchan getting into fist fights now? Is that where the bruise was from? Izuku had so many questions.

Bakugou’s eyes widened with horror when he realized what he just did. He just punched Deku. He could’ve just answered his question but now the nerd was definitely suspicious of him. He cursed his impulsivity. Deku didn’t deserve that. Just like how he didn’t deserve to be told to take a swan dive off the roof. Bakugou ignored those thoughts.

“Fuck off, Deku,” Bakugou sneered, explosions popping off his hands. “Like I’d tell you anything. We’re not fucking friends so don’t you dare talk to me! Got it?”

“Yeah,” Deku said sadly. “I got it.”

#bnha #mha fanfiction #mha twitter au

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epicmoonintensifies · 7 years ago

Text

Balance

Requested by @chibi-chan-blogs

I done did the thing and wrote too much again because this'un hit me right in the feels when I started thinkin' about it.

Your meeting seems random, but you know it is Ozpin's doing.

Qrow doesn't pay attention to you at first. He has his own problems, and they are many. Very many. You have problems too, but you know that Ozpin orchestrated this whole thing, so you say,

"You're Qrow Branwen, right?"

It's the beginning of the end, but you don't know it yet.

The storm is the worst Vale has seen in over a century (Ozpin can confirm). You and Qrow are "accidentally" left alone. You don't really know him yet, not as well as you would like to, but when you realize that you're snowed in, you expect him to leave. You've seen his... bird... thing. He can leave anytime he wants to. He can go home.

He stays.

He actually talks to you, really, for the first time. It's out of boredom, you suppose. But he's surprisingly nice. Glynda and James are usually complaining about him, although not too seriously. You didn't want what they said to affect your opinion of someone you barely knew, but it must have, because you are taken aback by how genuinely kind he seems. This is not the reckless drunk Glynda seemed so set against.

It's hours later, when the snow is still beating against the windows and the power is flickering in and out, when you get up the courage to ask him something that's been bothering you.

"Why haven't you left?" you ask. You make a slight gesture towards the window. The door can't be opened, but the windows are high and the panes can be rotated. A full grown man couldn't slip through, but a bird could. "I know you can go whenever you want."

And he looks at you, and something about his expression becomes, impossibly, both sharper and softer simultaneously. His eyes hone in with a focus that wasn't there before and the skin around his mouth tightens, but there's an emotion there that softens the expression.

Those red eyes are heavy on you.

"You used to people leavin' ya?" he asks, and his tone is too careful and too soft and too sympathetic.

That stings.

"No," you say, and you say it too quickly, too harshly. He's caught you. "No. I just - I know you don't have to stay here, and there's no reason."

"Well..." He smiles now, slightly more relaxed. The tightness has not quite left his face, and neither has that awful sense of pity, but it is not so intense, and so you can tolerate it. "Not no reason."

You know then that you're in trouble.

Sometimes he is fun, silly drunk. Too happy, too touchy, too much. You try not to mind, but you can't help but feel some disgust when he is like this.

Look what he has to do to himself to be happy.

But sometimes he is a sad, pathetic drunk, and you cringe from him.

He cries for a woman named Summer. The more you think about it, the more you're sure that you might have known her. Well, not known. But she was a student and you were a student and she was a few years ahead of you, but you remember her name. You remember a white cape and rose petals scattered across the school grounds.

I went to school with Qrow, you realize. Summer and Qrow were on a team.

You don't remember him at all. You do remember his sister. You remember that she made you uncomfortable, even when she was being nice.

He cries. You make him drink water and then keep him from stumbling into his own sick when he pukes. You let him sleep on the couch in your living room, and you bring him blankets even though your house is perfectly warm.

The next morning, you make breakfast for both of you. He tries to thank you. You pretend that you didn't see him weep for a dead woman.

This happens again, and again, and again, and each time, he looks at you like you have saved him from drowning instead of alcohol poisoning.

"You knew this would happen," you hiss at Ozpin. "Why would you do this to me?"

You temper has gotten away from you. Ozpin has deflected and avoided your questions for long enough, and things are getting dangerous. Not in the physical sense, but you are afraid for your heart. It is slipping away from you in the tiniest bits and pieces, like grains of sand, with every smile and kind word that Qrow offers you. You hate it. You are not a little girl. You know better than this. This is a crush, and you are too old for this.

You cannot love- be in love with- like- have a crush on an alcoholic who only ever noticed your existence because Ozpin forced his hand.

"Why?" you demand. "You know me, you know how I am. You knew. Don't tell me you didn't."

"I suspected," Ozpin says as calmly as ever. He sips his hot chocolate, the ass that he is. "And I still suspect that this will all turn out quite well."

"Damn you, Oz," you say, if not with less venom. "This is going to hurt. Did you not think of that?"

His amber eyes meet yours and they are filled with disgusting, offensive pity. "It will only hurt you if you allow it to."

You want to hit him. To knock that beloved mug out of his hands and shatter it. To tell him to take his stupid platitudes and his happily-ever-after fairytales and shove 'em.

You don't.

"Don't give me that, Oz," you say. "I didn't allow any of this. It's happening anyway."

Ozpin has nothing to say to that and you leave his office with an ache in your chest and the pinching hints of an oncoming migraine.

Three days later, Ozpin tells you a secret. It isn't really a secret, but you didn't know and you doubt Qrow would have mentioned it unless you directly asked, which you probably never would have done.

Bad luck.

That is just about the worst thing you've ever heard, because you can imagine it. You can imagine all the accidents. All the hurt. All the fear. How does he live? How does he spend time around anybody he cares about? How long has he been like this? You can't ask him these questions, though. It doesn't feel right. The answer would simply be that he learned to live with it, because he had to. It's a very Qrow thing, to live with that weight around his neck and say, "Well, it's this or death." And that's what he would say. You know it.

That is how he lives. You know that too.

You have never wished anybody good luck in your life. You've never needed to.

You become a tutor in school after getting an unusual number of perfect scores. You're not sure what they want you to tutor, but your "students" suddenly seem to get everything that they had so much trouble with before, so it doesn't really matter.

You like a boy. Your best friend likes the boy. He likes your best friend. He gets your best friend. They are perfect and happy together. You smile for them.

Your grandfather's hundredth birthday comes and goes. He is happy and healthy with a full head of hair. He goes off his medication. He is in perfect health.

You pass Beacon Academy's entry test without a single slip up. Everybody is performing wonderfully that day. It is insane. They are all in top form. You are the best.

You get the partner you want during initiation. He's nice. You like him. He is in love with another teammate. They always end up in romantic situations, and it is always in front of you.

You play games that you've never played before with a team you barely know and win. They say you must have played before. You swear you haven't. You don't even like games. They're too easy.

You kill a Nevermore by yourself. You ask your team why they didn't help you. They say that you were doing a fantastic job on your own. They're not wrong.

The guy you liked and the teammate he is in love with are now engaged. You congratulate them.

At Vytal Festival, your team competes and wins. And wins. And wins. And then it is you in the Singles round, and you don't even try, because you know how this is going to happen. It is all that has ever happened. You win.

You realize something is strange. You have always known, but never thought about it before the Vytal Festival. You go and sit in the waiting room of a hospital for three hours. For three hours, the healthiest babies are born, the sickest people recover, and horrible injuries are discovered to be minor and "not nearly as bad as they looked."

You go to the hospital every day. That is where you do your homework. Your team doesn't understand, but they don't seem to mind. Nobody seems to mind anything. Everything is right and nobody minds a thing.

Your team is successful in so much. They are also successful in their relationships and their assignments. Two of them are married, and to each other at that. One has successfully maintained a long-distance relationship for three years without any trouble. They all have the assignments they want. They are reputable, sought-after Huntsmen and Huntresses, going into the world with the right foot forward. You are left alone.

This is all fine.

Ozpin calls you three days after graduation. He asks you several questions, all of them very serious. You focus on one, though, because that is the one you have most recently found the answer to.

"Good luck," you say.

It is a fact. Not a wish.

"I don't do partners," Qrow says.

Raven is gone. Summer is gone. Tai is in Patch. Qrow does not do partners.

"Try it, just this once," Ozpin asks of him. "If you don't like it, I won't ask you to do it again."

There is no real negotiation here. Oz doesn't negotiate. He just makes things happen. Qrow knows that he's going to end this mission willing to work with a partner again. He doesn't know how or why, but Oz seems confident, and so... Qrow can only hope that he doesn't ruin someone's life. Again.

"Not liking it isn't what I'm worried about."

It is not a combat mission. You are a spy of sorts, not a fighter. Not this time. You're not sure why Ozpin wants you here for this, but you are here, and you are feeling useless as Qrow leads the way.

"Just fishing for information," Qrow explains to you. He says things in a way that is a bit more natural than Ozpin. Ozpin is like feathers on the breeze. Qrow is like that scythe of his, sharp and ruining and precise. "It's good to have allies in foreign territory."

Mistral doesn't seem like foreign territory to you. It seems like a train-ride away from Vale. But you understand. Ozpin's network cannot be held up by a handful of specially picked agents. There need to be filler pieces. There need to be huntsmen ready and on call. There need to be connecting lines of information being passed back and forth, without the CCT.

According to Qrow, this is usually a challenge. Mistral has some shady characters, and those are usually the kind who are actually worth talking to for this sort of business. Unfortunately, such shady characters are usually difficult to talk to, much less convince of something so... extreme.

And yet. You find them, and they are convinced.

"Whaddaya know," Qrow marvels. "That went off without a hitch and everybody's happy. That's a first!"

Yes. Everybody is so happy.

With the expectation that the operation would last several days instead of this easy, miraculous one, Qrow reserved a hotel room. Double beds, of course. He's not the sort to... well.

When he finds out the hotel doesn't offer refunds, he turns to you and says, "We might as well. Call it a vacation?"

A vacation. You try to remember the last time you had one of those and you wonder if sick leave counts.

Mistral is a nice place. Mostly. There is the seedy, teeming underworld. And the "no faunus" signs that make you recoil in disgust and refuse to go inside the store. But. Other than that, it's alright.

When you turn away from a door with a "no faunus" sign on it, you don't see the look on Qrow's face. You don't know what he thinks about that kind of thing. You want to assume that he shares Ozpin's opinions, because Ozpin doesn't tolerate utter stupidity in his little secret circle, but you don't know. And you don't care.

You really don't care.

Really.

The hotel is nice. The beds are comfortable.

You feel a little bit like you're suffocating.

"You okay?" asks Qrow.

"Fine," you say. "What about you? You were weird all day."

"Everything was going so well," he says in his own defense, and you know what he means.

"You mean nothing went wrong," you correct him. Because that is more accurate. You still spent most of the day haggling with bounty hunters and thieves. It just went better than expected, and you know why.

Bad Luck. Good Luck. What does that leave us with?

"Yeah, it was great!" Qrow exclaims, doing a happy little fist-pump and falling onto the bed he had claimed for himself. "You're coming with me next time, too."

"Yeah." And, oddly enough, it feels like a good idea. "Sure I will."

The second day goes well. Qrow shows you parts of Mistral that you've never seen before. You try new foods and watch a sunset made of lavender and gold. Qrow stays by your side, so close that you wonder if something is wrong. But there's not. He just seems to enjoy bumping shoulders with you.

That night, Qrow sits at the edge of your bed, frowning at you.

"I didn't have a nightmare last night," he says. "Not one."

"That's nice," you say.

"I always have nightmares," he confesses, but it sounds like an accusation. "Every night."

"That's sad." You mean it. You mean it too much. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" he asks, and he's not asking why you're sorry or why it's sad. "Everything's going right. It always does. It's not supposed to be like this. It's never like this with me."

"Why'd Ozpin stick us together?" you ask back.

Qrow doesn't answer. He only seems dazed as he slips off of your bed and into his own.

On the third night, you come back to the hotel room laughing and giddy. You've had almost too much fun and Qrow hasn't had a single drink since the previous day. No... the day before. Or... since before Mistral? You don't remember the last time you saw him take a drink out of that stupid flask, and it is so, so good.

Qrow keeps swaying and grabbing your hand like he's drunk, but you think it's just been because he's been laughing until he cries and he must be lightheaded because you've been running around Mistral like idiots for the past four hours. You've never been so happy to be stupid.

In the hotel room, you're still giggling and so is he, but you've calmed down somewhat. It must feel nice for him, you imagine, to feel that happy buzz from a good day instead of an excess of beer. Or whiskey. Or whatever it is that he usually drinks that you suspect that he hasn't been drinking for at least a week, maybe more...

"Today was good," he says to you.

"Yeah." Today was the best.

You're exhausted from being happy. You think you're going to settle in early for the night, but then Qrow is perched at the foot of your bed again. He's not frowning this time.

"It's safe with you, isn't it?" he asks. His voice is full of hope and his eyes are alight with wonder. He is full to the brim with this feeling.

You reach out and take his hand.

"Yes," you promise. "It's safe with me."

Qrow kisses you until the air is stolen from your lungs. You happily return the favor.

#qrow x reader #qrow branwen #rwby #rwby imagine #imagine rwby #imagine qrow #qrow branwen x reader #qrow #rwby qrow #imagine

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laurasinele · 7 years ago

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The second work in Headaches Caused by Reckless Behaviour. I hope you lot like it as much as you liked Sorry, I’m new and You’re a sight to see :)

After being kidnapped and tortured by two Auror partners and other victims of Death Eaters, Auror Malfoy is compelled to undergo therapy with a mind healer.

Healer Miss Tucktight tells Draco to write down whatever he feels like to and he decides to write letters. To Harry Potter. Not that he has anything to say, it’s just that he doesn’t want to feel stupid writting to no one or to himself.

Second part of a series, probably you’ll get it better if you read the first, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Potter,

I hate this. I haven’t even started and I can feel my mouth curling downside in utter disgust. My quill hand refuses to touch the parchment as fast and easily as it normaly does. I have no words to describe how much I don’t want to do this, but apparently I have to. Because it is going to help me cope with the trauma or something.

NO ONE CAME TELLING ME HOW TO COPE WHEN VOLDEMORT RUINED MY LIFE.

And two years later I’ve turned out just fine, so I am sure I can fucking survive kidnapping and a pantomime of torture, for Merlin’s sake! I’m an Auror trained as an Unspeakable. But Robards insists, Minister Shacklebot insists, mother insists, every-bloody-body insists I should see a mind healer, even you dared to offer your opinion on the matter. And here I am, writing a letter because Miss Tucktight said writing whatever crossed my mind would ease ease my troubled thoughts.

Excuse me, troubled?!

The only thing that really troubles me right now is you back in my bloody life. That’s why I’m writing to you. Not that you’re ever going to get your nosy hands on these, but writing to someone feels slightly less stupid than writing a diary meant to nobody or to myself.

It’s not that I have anything to tell you in particular. Healer’s bloody orders. Just that.

D. Malfoy

∞∞∞

Potter,

Miss Tucktight almost had a seizure in our last session when she asked about my writing and I told her I was writing letters to you. Apparently this is “important progress”. You know, because you saved my ass when Holt was playing vigilante.

HAS EVERYBODY FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE BLOODY WAR?

It was not much more than two years ago, for Merlin’s beard.

Why on earth is it a big deal that you saved me this time? You saved me in the room of requirement, you saved the world from Voldemort, you are my sodding partner and you want us to be friends despite we’ve always hated each other at school. Why me writing to you is progress and such a momentous event? You’re a thorn in the side is what you are. Everywhere I look you’re there with your expansive movements, your recklessness and your hero complex filling with noise my otherwise quiet life. It is only logical that you occupy my mind now. You are big-framed and you move a lot, you occupy every-sodding-thing.

And it is TIRESOME. You’ve got me exhausted. Everytime I see you I feel this weight on my chest like I’ve been working for ages. And then by the end of our shift you’re always talking about being friends and doing something together after work and that makes my blood rush and I can only think about getting rid of you for the day. Except now I’m forced to spend the afternoons with you. For my safety, because of the kidnapping situation. Bollocks.

I mean, all my childhood I wanted to befriend you. I met you, you rejected me. End of story. What if I picked on you later on? I was a little shit, I know that, I can’t change that. But it’s not that I picked on you more than on anybody else. Or if I did it was because you were the Chosen One and kids are envious.

Shit. And because I wanted your attention. Because I still wanted to be your friend.

I have always wanted to be your friend. I wanted to be like you because you looked carefree and your laughs sounded like laughs are supposed to sound. And you did all those brave things that I was simultaneously proud and envious of. I wanted to help you like Granger and Weasley did. I heard things at home. I wanted you to succeed.

When I was a child I was told I was better and entitled to do better than anybody else but while I was doing the shit I always did because I was told I could, there was always a small, scared voice whispering “Look at Harry. You could be like him. Why are you doing this?”.

It all exploded the moment I got the Dark Mark. I hated myself so much and I was so scared. I hated Voldemort, the Death Eaters, my parents… I hated you because I could have been on your side and now I was one of them and I had no saying on it. I was that or death. I really wished your Sectumsempra had killed me. It would have been so right. Because it would have been you. Back then I was sure Voldemort would kill me sooner or later and when I was laying on the bathroom floor all I could think was “good, this is better, if it’s Potter it’s how it has to be”.

Actually, I think you killed most of me that time, except the little voice that always told me to look at you. The shitty part of me needed to be killed so the little voice could grow. So thanks, Potter, I guess.

D. Malfoy

∞∞∞

Potter,

I can’t believe tomorrow I am allowed to work a whole schedule again. This two weeks in part time have been ridiculous. I AM NOT TRAUMATIZED BY HOLT AND MILTON’S RIDICULOUS ATTEMPT AT VENGEANCE.

And having you around all afternoon with the stupid bodyguard excuse… what a fantastic way to waste two Auror’s time and slow down paperwork, let alone the patrol assigned at my home at night. I don’t know what Robard’s must have been thinking this past fortnight but finally everybody’s come to their senses and, Salazar, it’s good to be back.

I’ll miss our afternoon chess games in your back garden, though. You’re not as a terrible player as you say. Weasley must be a freaking genius if you think you’re so bad in comparison. Oh my, what did I just wrote? This letter is never seeing daylight! Admitting Ron Weasley is a genius at something!

Speaking of the unexpected, you’re a good partner. When Robards first said he was going to pair me with you I would have never guessed that we’d get along and I begged to differ as many times as I could. Even when you came in your first day I tried to make the Chief reconsider, but it was no use.

In the end, it turned out working with you is easy. You’re smart, humble, respectful, all good qualities in a junior Auror. I’m guessing you’ll earn senior status in record time. I hope you don’t beat my 9 months mark because I’ll be mortified. But of course you will, you were always better than me. It’d be nice to have the upper hand on something for once, but I’m pretty sure you’ll beat me. All this years and I still envy you, how pathetic is that? I don’t hate you, though. I think I only hated you because you rejected me and your rejection meant I wasn’t good enough for somebody when I was always told I was the best. But I didn’t even liked myself deep inside, so it was a good move on your end. By sixth year I already didn’t hate you. I just wanted you to find out the plot and save the day like the cartoony you always did. I haven’t hated you for years.

I don’t know. I suppose I just don’t want to like you.

D. Malfoy

∞∞∞

Potter,

I should have said yes.

I am an idiot.

I feel like shit here alone and bored.

“I have better things to do”. Not even a ‘thank you’.

I would have loved a pint and a chess game. I have absolutely no idea why I said no.

I enjoy your company. You are cheeky and don’t always stick to the rules at work and that gets to my nerves but I enjoy your company. You are a friend to me.

Why did I said no?

Please don’t stop asking. I’ll try to say yes next time.

D. Malfoy

∞∞∞

Git,

I am going to fucking murder you in your sleep because you don’t even deserve to be killed with honor, standing and given the chance to defend yourself like a human being.

Excluding the war, you have given me the worst month of my life closing this unicorn traffic case. You’ve almost been killed more times than I can count and almost get me killed four times, including the one that you almost kill me accidentally. What the hell were you thinking levitating that rock?

Your hero complex is going to get us both killed one of this days but I swear I am going to take sweet revenge making you take care of the paperwork ALL BY YOUR BLOODY HEROIC SELF. You think I’m getting it started right now but I’m actually writing this letter. Ha!

And here you are, sitting at your desk with your filthy boots up, uniform a mess, scorched spots and bloodstains galore, bragging about your feats with Esposito and Johnson, your birdnest of a hair even messier than usual and your eyes shining with pride and why the blazing hell did you just wink at me?

Anyway, case closed. Probably one of the most important cases of our careers although my life goal is chasing and locking up the remaining Death Eaters and I haven’t gotten my hands on a lead in months so I feel like I shouldn’t be celebrating.

Now Robards pats your shoulder because of course it’s all your merit, I did nothing but stand aside, please don’t mind me. Oh, here he comes, he remembers me after all.

Yes, Potter, I’d like a pint at the Leaky you and I, thank you. You are buying, of course.

Your SENIOR D. Malfoy

∞∞∞

Bloody Potter,

I won’t trust you in a lifetime when you say again ‘just one more drink’. I’ve got the worst hangover ever, thank the stars it’s Saturday, but I don’t know if I’ve got enough hangover potion in my cabinet in case a call comes. Seriously, have you no self control? Or self respect? Or a little concern for the wellbeing of your liver?

I had a blast, though. I don’t remember laughing that much in my whole life. We danced atop the table? Who was playing flamenco at the Leaky?! I nearly broke my neck laughing when you transfigured a fork into a carnation and held it with your teeth, then started spinning around me with your arm on my waist. I was so drunk I would have picked the carnation from your mouth with my teeth but you tucked it behind my ear before I could embarrass myself. Thankfully.

What an odd idea, why would I ever think of taking the flower from your mouth with my mouth?

Anyway, I have to say you’re an impressive dancer. I remember observing you during the Yule Ball back at Hogwarts and you were terrible. Either you have improved or we were both so drunk last night that you didn’t care and I couldn’t judge. But I liked how you moved around me, I’m used to be the lead and it was nice not to be this time for a change. All fridays should end like that.

Shit.

I have a massive crush on you, don’t I?

Merlin, I’ve had it since forever and I’m only realizing now, and I’m embarrassing myself re-reading the letters. And just now I wrote “observing you during the Yule Ball”?! Why would I do that if it wasn’t because I had a huge ass crush on you?

That’s the fucking progress Miss Tucktight meant. Well, that’s bloody great. Great of me to find out just now that I thought I had a friend.

∞∞∞

Dearest Harry,

Miss Tucktight says being in love with you since childhood explains everything. I told her as far as I’m concerned nothing needs an explanation. She replied that ignoring my feelings for you is unwise and will only bring me pain. I answered that first, pain is my second nature, and second, I wanted to be your friend for as long as I can remember and apparently now you consider me your friend so, success. I don’t give a sodding dancing fuck about anything else. She said I will always be unsatisfied. I closed my eyes, took a long breath and recalled our chess games in your garden. “Miss Tucktight, I’ve never been more satisfied in my whole damn life. We are done with therapy”. Therapy finished, this is my last letter. As in real life I will never, ever, under any circumstance, allow myself to say this, let me just put it here.

Yours truly, my love,

Draco Malfoy

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animesshadow · 7 years ago

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NatZa - The wrong choice

“Titania” a raven haired dark mage covered in a green battle uniform spoke up to the redhead in a pretentious way. He was standing at a higher platform than her. His dark purple eyes were looking down at the so-called Queen of Fairies.

Erza frowned at this man’s arrogance. She hated to admit it but he was strong, way stronger than she first anticipated. Her body was covered in bruises and scratches. A few drops of blood escaping her mouth, making their way down her chin. As much as Erza wanted to dash at him with all her might, she couldn’t. Her eyes pendled between the two man next to the dark mage.

Two man were chained and crucified a few meters next to him on each side. They were both unconcious and motionless as the chains tightly pinned each man on an iron cross.

Both of these man were people Erza shared a deep connection with. The man on the right side (from her point of view) was a azure haired man with a red tattoo under one his eyes. It was none other than Jellal. His clothes were torn and some bruises could be seen on his body.

To the left was Fairy Tail’s infamous dragon slayer Natsu Dragneel. He was the worst shape of them all. Multiple bruises and scrathes all over his body. He had at least 3 stab wounds on his chest which were still bleeding out a lot. Everyone could see that he was barely holding onto his life. His beaten face was overshadowed by his pink hair because of the way his limp head was hanging down.

“This is why only fools are heroes.” The dark mage spoke up causing Erza to twitch her eyebrow.

“Because you never know when some lunatic will come along with a sadistic choice”

He held up two similar looking device’s which looked like magical remote controls. A small red light was blinking on each of them.

Turning his head towards Natsu he continued “Let die the reckless dragon slayer and fellow guild mate”

“Or..” He then shifted his head to the other side “Suffer the death of your childhood friend, turned psychopath”

“Stop this! I will not let you hurt one of them!” Erza screamed in response

Even though her words sounded as brave and prepared, on the inside it was quite the contrary. Fear grasped her heart. Its grip grew stronger with each word this maniac said. She quickly thought through every possible solution that came to her mind, trying analyse the situation and find a way out of this. Without any one of her friends dying. The two man she cared for most are being held hostage and threatened to kill. Even though she tried her best, she couldn’t come up with a way to stop him. Panic started fill Erza’s thoughts as her heart started to beat faster and faster.

“Make your choice..” taunted the dark mage. His oversized green robe danced at the rythym of the wind. The wicked smile on his head started to disappear as he put on a serious face again.

Right after he threw both remotes in each direction. Once one of them hit the ground it would be over for one of her friends.

Erza’s mind went blank. She had to do something, NOW! Losing control over her body she let herself get controlled by her instincts. She immidiatly requiped into her ‘Flight Armor’ and dashed towards one of the remotes.

Just as she caught the one she dashed towards and trying to run for the other one, she heard the sound of something hitting the ground a few meters away from her. The next few seconds felt like an eternity. Following the Click sound of the broken device loud mechanical sounds could be heard.

Split second after that the sound of something forcing its way through flesh and bones echoed through out the big hall.

Erza’s eyes widened at the sight of this. Only now she realized which one of the remotes she subconciously chose. Natsu’s body was now pierced with multiple spikes that shot out of the iron cross right through his back. The tips of those spikes poked out of his chestregion. The dragon slayer’s eyelids shot open as he regained conciousness at the sensation of his body being stabbed open. His eyes were wide open in shock as he saw the bloody tips of said spikes. Pieces of his flesh hung down from some of the spikes.

Shortly after the spikes made their way back into the cross and the magical chains started to dissolve. Right before Natsu’s limp body was about to crash on the floor Erza caught his body, gently putting him down on the floor.

“Natsu! Natsu! Are you alright? Please, answer me! You can’t die here you here me.” Erza desperately shouted at her fallen comrade. So many tears went flowing down her cheeks. She was crying every last bit of her tears.

“haha... HAHAHAHAHAHA! See, this is what happens when you try to be a hero” A wicked laugh echoed through the large hall they were in.

Those words however were ignored by the Scarlet Knight. The only thing she could think about now was stopping Natsu’s blood from flowing out through the many holes in his body. It was pointless though. Those injuries could never be treated in time.

“Natsu please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay. So please.. don’t die. I need you. Please don’t die!” Erza cried out. Her throat was sore and started to hurt but she didn’t care. She tried everything to keep Natsu alive... In vain

Jellal who seem to have woken up just in time to witness this horrific choice. He was in shock too. He helplessly watched as her dearest friend sunk deeper into despair. Not a single word dared to escape his mouth. He was only able to watch the following.

Natsu gathered all his strength to to raise one of his arms. His arms twitched and shook in pain but he didn’t care right now. He put his hand on Erza’s neck who still tried to close the wounds while begging him not to die.

Even though his heart was shredded to pieces by the many spikes that went through his body, the one thing that broke it was seeing Erza in such a desperate state. Tears started flow down at the sight of the broken nakama in front of him.

Natsu pulled her head towards him and gently placed her forehead on his. The shock forced Erza to stop her frantic cries and widen her eyes in surprise.

“I-It’s alright...”

His voice was weak and trembling. He was in unimaginable pain right now but he put on the brightest smile his tense muscles allowed him to make.

“Everything is gonna be fine. Stop crying now, will ya. Tears don’t suit your beautiful face.”

Erza just stared at him in disbelief. Drops of tears dropped down on Natsu’s face mixing them with the tears of his own. Yes, Natsu was crying too. The emotional impact the image of her desperate friend made was even worse than his physical injuries. He innerly cursed himself for being the reason why Erza cried. He promised himself he would never let anyone make her cry again, yet here he was, breaking that promise by himself.

“I-I’m sorry, Natsu.. This is all my fault.. If I had caught that thing, if I had stopped that mania-” Erza sobbed before being interrupted by Natsu

“I told you everything is fine...”

His voice was getting weaker and weaker with every second. The light in his eyes started to fade away. They both knew... It was over.

“Promise me to stay strong okay..”

He mumbled out his last wish to the broken Scarlet Knight.

Erza wouldn’t accept this. She REFUSED to accept this!

“Don’t talk like that. You are going to be fine. You always are, so don’t you dare dying on me here!”

Her shouts were growing more desperate as she felt Natsu’s grip on her neck became weaker every second. His grip may be weak but she couldn’t move an inch away from her position. Their foreheads still connected as she looked down on the bloody mess that was her friend.

“Hehe.. give that ice princess back in the guild a kick to the ass for me, okay” the fire mage smiled weakly. He was a little glad his rival wasn’t here to see him in this pathetic state.

Erza sobbed but didn’t say anthing. Her tears didn’t seem to stop any time soon too. ‘Even in this state he still thinks about fighting Gray’. That thought made her smile a bit again in sadness.

“You can’t lose yourself to darkness, you understand me” Natsu got serious again. “No matter what.. You have to stay true to yourself. Live on for everyone back at the guild. Seeing you cry like this just breaks my heart. Please stay the strong Erza we all know. Don’t let this darkness get the better of you .. Promise me”

“I promise.” was everything Erza could respond to Natsu’s final wish. She realized already that there is nothing she can do anymore. There’s nothing anyone can do. This was the end of their path together,

“Thank you... I.. I love you.. Erza...” were his final words.

The usual fire in his eyes went out as the little life that was left completely left Natsu’s body. His tense muscles relaxed and his limp hand on Erza’s neck finally fell down next to his body. The usual warmth Natsu radiated grew cold. A bitter smile was the only thing Natsu left behind. He had no regrets any longer. Everyone who was present knew... He was gone now.

Those last words triggered something in Erza. She gritted her teeth as she slowly realized. She made the wrong choice! Sadness and despair were replaced by pure hatred. She subconciously considered Jellal to be the more important one. More important than someone who was always beside her, encouraging her and saving her from her darkest moments. Her hatred started to rise beyond measure.

Her gaze slowly shifting back towards the raven haired black mage. Erza completely forgot Jellal was even there, completly ignoring his shocked and worried look at her.

‘The promise’. She remembered what she just promised her deceased friend. No, he wasn’t just a friend. He never was JUST a friend. He was so much more. Erza didn’t realize how much she needed him before but it was too late now.

‘I’m sorry, Natsu’ she thought as she looked up to man who caused all of this. Pure rage turning her vision red. Fury and hatred were the only things that remained in her mix of emotions. ‘I won’t be able to keep that promise’

This man right there had to pay. He would not leave this place unpunished, he had to pay! Even if it cost her everything!

With that, every last trace of Erza’s sanity that remained, faded away.

#NatZa #Natsu x Erza #depressing one shot #no happy end this time

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ceiaofsilence · 7 years ago

Text

Reshuffle

This is a story idea I had that I’m probably never going to do anything about. It’s up for grabs, if you want it:

Deku, the hero who brought about the Golden Age of Heroes.

Yagi Toshinori, the quirkless middle school student who wants to become a hero.

‘Hero Deku saves hundreds from natural disaster’ say the headlines when Yagi Toshinori opens his phone feed one morning. He gasps softly and reads the article with eager eyes, mouth curling into a soft smile.

It’s a good start to his day. Not that it��s terribly unusual to read about Deku’s heroics at any moment - he’s arguably the number one among heroes, and certainly a beacon of light to society - but it always makes Toshinori happy to read about lives that were saved, smiles that were preserved.

It is why he wishes to be a hero as well. Even though he is quirkless and people laugh at the thought no sooner than he’s spoken it out loud.

If he saves even one life, then it’ll all have been worth it. Perhaps it is a foolishly idealistic view of things, but Toshinori cannot help himself. Refuses to stop himself from training his body, from rescuing kittens from trees, from helping senior citizens cross the street.

Any hero starts small, isn’t that right?

The hero known as Deku waves at the crowd and wonders if he looks as stupid and awkward as he feels. He’s never gotten over his aversion to crowds or any kind of attention, really.

He can fake it for a little while, though.

“Between you and your rival Ground Zero, who do you think is stronger?” a reporter asks, as they always do. “What caused the hostile nature of your relationship?”

Just a little longer.

Then he’s back inside the agency building, staggering alongside the walls. Just a little further and-

Something smashes into his knees from behind. He squeaks and falls back into the seat of the wheelchair. The hero known as Ground Zero scowls down at him. “Fucking Deku,” he growls. “Just fucking retire already, you pathetic shitstain.”

“Hahaha,” Izuku laughs. “What are you doing here, Kacchan?”

The relationship between them is complicated. Once, Izuku was victim of Bakugou Katsuki’s bullying. Then Shimura-san had found something worth nurturing in Izuku, had trained him, had granted him enough power to stand tall in the world of heroes.

Hero training was hard in those days. Blood, sweat, and tears left no time for bullying, no room for insecurities, and certainly no place for enmity - not when crime rates were so high, when villains lured behind practically every corner. And if school was already an ordeal, then life after graduation was a nightmare. At that point, Shimura-san was already dead, leaving Izuku with a burden and responsibility far too heavy for him to carry alone.

Which led to the pact between the five members of their class Izuku trusted the most.

The pact to achieve peace - together.

Kacchan wheels him into a meeting room. Izuku isn’t all that surprised to see the rest of their group - except maybe he is, because it’s been a while and also Kacchan rarely tolerates them all at once, especially not Shouto.

“Yo, Deku!” Red Riot waves wildly. “Saw that stuff you did on the news yesterday - that was so manly!”

“Good work!” Uravity adds cheerfully. Shouto merely gives him a curt nod. Izuku stifles the burst of longing, as he always does. They’d had something once, or at least the beginning of something, and it hadn’t worked out. Izuku always gone, always fighting, always saving someone else and leaving Shouto behind until whatever they had was empty and hollow.

“Let’s just get this fucking over with, extras,” Kacchan growls, stalking over to Red Riot’s, otherwise knowns as Kirishima Eijirou’s, side and not reacting when the other puts an arm around his waist.

“Is this an intervention?” Deku asks, and knows that no matter how good at masking it he is, these five will always hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Haha, you caught us!” Red Riot admits sheepishly.

“A fucking idiot could have figured it out with your dumb-ass fidgeting,” Kacchan snaps at him, and the other hero laughs.

“Look, Deku, you know we’re your friends,” Uravity says earnestly. Then, with a look to Kacchan, adds, “Of a sort.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean, Roundface?!”

“Hey, hey, let’s stay on topic, okay?” Red Riot tries, but he’s laughing and it’s doing nothing to calm Kacchan down.

“Right, right!” Uravity is laughing, too, but grows serious quickly enough.

Deku smiles at her encouragingly. “Just say it,” he says. “If it’s important enough to draw all of you here, then I probably need to hear it.”

“You need to stop,” she blurts out, then begins flailing. “No! I mean, not stop altogether, but - take a vacation, maybe. Kick back a little. That sorta thing?”

“You’re fucking pathetic and should be embarrassed to call yourself a hero,” Kacchan grunts. Red Riot slaps his shoulder and shoots Deku an apologetic look, but doesn’t contradict his boyfriend’s words.

Deku sighs. “Look, I know my health isn’t the greatest-“ Understatement- “but I can’t just stop, you know that.”

“No.” Uravity - Uraraka Ochako, one of his best firends - frowns at him. “It’s not like it was back then. All For One is gone, thanks to you, and the four of us can handle everything. You need to start taking care of yourself more. Look, just think about it-“

“Like fuck he will,” Kacchan growls. “We’ve all been pussyfooting around this shit for years ‘cuz fucking Deku is stupid as hell.” He stalks forward and digs a smouldering finger in Izuku’s chest. “Fucking retire already, you crippled fossil!”

“Don’t call him a cripple,” Shouto says sharply, but then levels a cold look upon Izuku that makes him flinch. “They are right, though. We are enough to keep peace. Stop destroying yourself, Izuku.”

“All For One,” Izuku blurts, and unlike when Ochako said those three words, from his mouth it makes them all stiffen. “There was never a body. My analysis-“ He casts a desperate look at his friends- “I can’t stop. I won’t hand this burden to someone else until I’m absolutely sure he is gone.” He’s not even sure he should pass One For All on. Borrowed power that Izuku has always felt guilty for having.

Of course, he has to start coughing blood in that moment. Stupid, traitorous, failing body.

“Excuse me sir, may I help you?” The kid’s blue eyes shine earnestly with the genuine desire to help. And Izuku is terribly at turning down requests.

Besides, he really doesn’t want to stand up from his wheelchair right now. His legs… well. He’s paying the price for his reckless use of One For All in his youth. Not that he regrets any of it, though.

“Thank you,” he answers with a nod. The boy smiles and retrieves the loaf of bread, unfortunately placed at the top of the shelf, and hands it to Izuku.

“Do you need anything else?”

Izuku chuckles. “I’m new here. I don’t know where anything is.”

“It’s fine now. For I’m here!” the boy exclaims with a grin, then blushes up to his ears. “Err. Just. I mean.”

Izuku laughs, pushing his wheelchair along. “If you’re going to say things like that, you need to own it. No embarrassment. Not,” he smiles wryly, “that I’m one to talk. Haha. Ha.”

“Oh. Thanks! I’ll try.” The kid chuckles self-deprecatingly, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s well-muscled, Izuku notes, but with his enormous height still looks lanky despite it. “May I see your shopping list, sir?”

“Of course. Tell you what, I’ll treat you to a coffee for your trouble,” Izuku suggests. The boy immediately waves him off, stuttering his way through denials and generally reminding Izuku of an awkward puppy. It’s endearing.

Toshinori wonders how this happened. One moment helping a disabled citizen, the next being treated to coffee and cake. The most he usually gets for his effort is a bit of candy from the elderly ladies.

Midoriya-san is very nice and interesting, though. He seems to know anything about everything, and the way he analyses the Quirk of their waitress - Perfect Balance, as she confirms - in three seconds flat is incredible.

“How did you-“ Toshinori asks in amazement when she’s gone. Midoriya-san chuckles.

“Practice, I suppose. It’s… something of a hobby, nothing special.”

“It was very impressive!” Toshinori refutes immediately.

“Haha, maybe.” The man stares down at his fingers, looking as awkward as Toshinori often feels. “Do you like the cake?”

“Yes, thank you again!” He doesn’t get cake very often. The orphanage he lives in isn’t poor, per say, but not terribly well-off either.

“That’s good.” The silence isn’t too uncomfortable. Midoriya-san seems merely deep in thought, occasionally devolving into mumblings, and Toshinori is busy eating cake and drinking tea. To be honest, he appreciates the silence - his mind is still roiling from the news this morning. Deku’s retirement was the headline everywhere.

Once they’re done, Toshinori asks if Midoriya-san needs any help getting home.

“Oh, no, I’ve occupied your time long enough, Yagi-kun,” the man answers with a friendly smile. “I may have only moved here the other day, but I remember the way back. Thank you for your company and your help.”

“It was my pleasure,” Toshinori says. “Have a nice day, sir.”

Nice kid. Polite. Rare to see that these days. Izuku smiles to himself as he wheels himself home, shopping bag filled.

He hates the mildly pitying looks he receives when people look upon him in his wheelchair. Yet Yagi-kun hadn’t made him feel inferior, or been a disruptive presence in the least.

Again, a rare quality.

He sighs deeply. This is what his retirement is going to look like, huh? Shopping trips, wheeling along the sidewalk, pitying looks.

Well, he never really thought about retiring at all. Never thought he’d make it that long. But thanks to his friends…

His newly-bought house is silent when he arrives. Not fully furnished yet, the walls bare. The others would come over this week-end to help decorate. Knowing them, it’d probably end with half of them passed out on the floor in various stages of exhaustion, everyone disagreeing on decor, a lot of cake, and at least one would require a trip to Recovery Girl.

Izuku’s looking forward to it.

His phone rings. He looks at the caller ID and blinks in confusion.

“Midoriya,” Yaoyorozu Momo greets him stiffly on the other end of the call.

It’s not that they’re not on friendly terms. The bond between all his classmates from U.A. Academy had remained strong all these years. But she’s Todoroki’s best friend, and things with Todoroki are… awkward at best.

“Hello, Yaoyorozu,” he returns the greeting.

“I have a job offer for you,” she says.

Oh. That’s- she’s the principal of U.A. now. Maybe he should have expected this, actually, he really should have, and should expect more job offers in the future, it’s not like the public knows he’s gotten any weaker. Though they probably suspect it, what with the whole retirement thing. Not that it matters, he’s not the only hero in the world, there’s still Kacchan and Kirishima, Uraraka, Froppy, and Sero and Ashido, then newcomers like Ingenium and Earphone Jack, and people like his old sidekick Sir Nighteye. Among dozens more.

“You’re mumbling,” Yaoyorozu says flatly.

“Ahaha, sorry,” Izuku answers sheepishly. “You want me to teach at U.A.?”

“Obviously. Your Quirk analysis ability will be a boon to us, and your long years of hero experience will benefit the students. Besides, you will benefit from quick access to our medical facilities, isn’t that right?” Yaoyorozu is another person who knows about One For All and the true state of Izuku’s health than the rest of the world. “Furthermore, I believe you will enjoy inspiring the next generation of heroes. Maybe you will even find a successor. I know Sir Nighteye has been impressed by one of our second-years who’s interning with us.”

Izuku winces at the thought of his former sidekick. There’s another awkward relationship. And him finding a successor for One For All…

“I’ll think about it,” Izuku says weakly. He already knows he’s probably going to take the teaching job, if only so he won’t rot away in this empty house. But the successor thing…

Should the burden of One For All really be passed on?

Toshinori is on his way home from school, body aching from bruises. He’s quirkless and some people think it makes him an easy target.

It doesn’t. Or rather, it wouldn’t, if Toshinori would defend himself. But he just… doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He’s strong, he knows he is, and one punch to the wrong place could cause serious injury.

Better to just take the bullying. It doesn’t hurt much anyway. He knows who he is and what he wants to do with his life, and he’s okay with it even if other people are not.

He sees Midoriya-san, wheeling along the park, and considers calling out to him. But Toshinori is kind of dirty right now and Midoriya looks like he’s deep in thought. So he just makes his way back to the orphanage.

“Ahh… a new vessel…”

The stench is the first thing Toshinori notices. The second is the cold feeling around his feet, creeping up - he only just manages a shout before he’s enveloped by cold slime. It creeps under his clothes, into his ears, into his nose and mouth. Choking, he tries to shovel it away from his face, panic making it impossible to think of anything he can do-

“SMASH!”

The slime is blown away, and he passes out.

“…-kun! Yagi-kun!” Someone is slapping his cheek. Toshinori comes to with a groan. “Thank the kami, you’re all right!”

Midoriya-san’s face above his… what happened? What-

Toshinori shoots up to sitting position. “Deku!” he exclaims.

“Ah, yeah, I’d appreciate it if you could keep that secret-“ Midoriya says sheepishly, and then devolves into mumbles. “Kacchan is going to kill me, oh God, Uraraka is going to be so disappointed-“

“What are you talking about?” Toshinori asks, utterly confused. Then he takes a closer look at Midoriya-san. The gauntlet on his arm, which belongs to the hero costume of- “Deku,” Toshinori breathes. “You’re Deku. You’re - you’re Deku?”

Midoriya-san - Deku! Oh by the kami, this is Deku! - has his face buried in his hands and moans mournfully. “I’m sorry!”

“What are you apologising for?” Toshinori asks, bewildered. “You, uhm. Thank you for saving me!”

“Yeah, err, you’re welcome.” Midoriya-san lowers his hands. “Seriously, are you all right?”

“I’m, I’m fine- Midoriya-san! What-”

Midoriya is coughing up blood. What, oh shit, think fast Toshinori-

“I’m fine!” Midoriya-san waves him off, having stopped coughing. But that is blood on his hand!

“I’m calling an ambulance!” Toshinori exclaims. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re all right, everything is fine-“

That stench. The villain- no. No. Deku - Midoriya - had smashed it away, it can’t be back-

But there it is, a wave of foul-looking sludge. “Dekuuu!” it screeches and stretches toward Midoriya. Midoriya, who is coughing again, and Toshinori doesn’t think as he vaults over the hero and punches the sludge thing right in the eye.

The very solid eye.

“It’s fine now,” Toshinori gasps out. “Because I’m here.”

“Thanks, kid,” Izuku says wryly. “Some hero I am, huh?”

“No! You’re a great hero!” Yagi-kun instantly assures him. “To fight, even in the state your body is in, that’s incredible!”

The car they’re sitting in, driven by a sullen and silently judging Todoroki Shouto, drives over a bump in the road to U.A. Academy. Izuku winces, and instantly Yagi-kun is fussing over him again.

Yagi-kun who is so obviously quirkless. Yagi-kun who’d bravely charged into the fight without a second’s hesitation, to protect the hero that should have been keeping him safe.

Izuku kind of wants to tear his hair out. This must be what Nana-san had meant when she said I just knew when he asked why she’d picked him.

“Hey kid,” Izuku interrupts Yagi’s mothering. “You ever thought about being a hero?”

It’s a purely hypothetical question, of course.

That what Izuku tells himself anyway.

A/N: So, I kinda had this roleswap!AU plunny sitting on my computer for a few months and I doubt I’ll continue it, so anyone who wants it can adopt it. Just tell me about it, please?

Plot points for this included:

Toshinori going to U.A.

Classmates would include Endeavour (rival and potential love interest), Present Mic and Eraserhead (also potential love interest), Midnight, Mt. Lady (I adore her), why not throw in Crimson Riot while we’re at it, Nedzu, Hound Dog...

Homeroom teacher is Todoroki Shouto who’s an underground hero because he doesn’t particularly like fame. Endeavour is his bratty nephew or something.

Other members of the faculty: Kaminari, the worst Maths teacher ever, Aoyama because why not, Recovery Girl because she is eternal

Izuku takes over Quirk Analysis classes. No one wants him to take over hero training, he’s in a wheelchair for crying out loud

Izuku and Shouto trying to get along and being awkward but slowly fixing their relationship

Endeavour interning with Katsuki. This turns out to be a terrible idea.

There was other stuff but I forgot

Nighteye lives

So if anyone wants to adopt it, you can obviously change stuff and everything, creative freedom and all that. I just really like this plunny but I have no drive to write it (story o’ my life), and it’d be a shame if it just died. So here you go. Hope you enjoyed reading!

#cia writes #bnha #fic idea

80 notes · View notes

hiraeth-doux · 7 years ago

Note

Could you write the truth or dare OTP prompt you reblogged? Pleaseeeeee ❤️

I’m actually, finally, going through some of my notes, and I completely forgot about a few of these being finished something like a year ago. I even have a multi-chapter that I probably never even mentioned just sitting on my laptop, so… Might as well.

Also I’ not sure which prompt this was referring to, I’m sorry, as I have a few truth or dare prompts saved, but hey, the game is there, so I hope it’s alright :)

“It wouldn’t kill you have some fun, you know?” Zara noted with a sigh, picking up the papers from Claire’s desk that she’d left earlier for her boss to sign.

“Yes, I know, I know,” Claire smiled apologetically. “But… I have… you know how busy my schedule is.”

“Yes,” Zara paused, one hand on the door handle. “And I can make it all go away.”

“That’s not how it works,” Claire protested even though yes, she was, perhaps, the only person who could make it all go away.

“Well, promise me to at least think about it.”

Claire nodded obediently, “I promise.”

Once the door behind Zara closed, she puffed her cheeks out and slumped against the back of her chair, expensive leather cool through her silk blouse.

She felt like an ass trying to find a way around going to her assistant’s birthday, but truth be told, it wasn’t about her packed day planner so much as about the fact that it was a party, not a reception, or a soiree, or even a dinner. Claire knew for a fact that it would be full of people whose positions and salaries she knew by heart but whose personalities were no more familiar to her than those of complete strangers. And worst of all, she knew for a fact that the feeling would be mutual – she would be viewed as one of the park’s attractions at best.

Still, there was no way around it, and Claire knew it the moment Zara dropped the invitation on her. She couldn’t say no.

Claire rubbed her eyes, exhausted. She would stop by, she decided, drop off her present, make sure Zara saw her there, and be on her merry way to… yet another pathetically lonely Saturday night. Just her and a glass of chardonnay and maybe a Tom Hanks movie. All things considered, Claire Dearing was acing her life. Next, she might as well adopt a cat or two. Or five, just to be sure.

Or a dinosaur, for that matter.

—

A small bar on the outskirts of the park, in the area commonly referred to as a ‘staff village’, was brightly lit with fairy lights and packed like a can of sardines when Claire arrived there. Apparently, the notion of being fashionably late did not apply to the places… well, like this one, she assumed.

It wasn’t even really a bar – more a roof attached to several poles, with a bar counter in one corner, a few tables in between, and loudspeakers hanging from the ceiling. The night was hot and humid, people spilling from under the tin roof and onto the beach, laughing. Even in her most casual outfit, Claire felt criminally overdressed, her plain Prada sandals standing out among cheap flip-flops. Board shorts, she sighed internally. Board shorts everywhere, faded Hawaiian shirts, and wifebeaters, flimsy tank tops and denim cutoffs. In her slacks and cream-lace top, she looked like she was attending a gala.

She huffed and stepped inside – as much as there was an inside, scanning the crowd looking for Zara. Someone pressed a beer bottle into her hand, but by the time her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness and she was about to protest, it was hard to tell who gave to her. All around her, people were talking and laughing, no one seemed to be paying attention to her whatsoever. She assumed that having a drink in her hand was more of a mandatory thing than a choice, and clasped the bottle tighter, almost grateful for its coolness against her skin.

“Claire!” The sound of her name made her snap her head up, and she finally spotted Zara waving at her from across the bar. “You’ve made it!” In a floating pale sundress and with her cheeks flushed from the heat and probably a cocktail or two, she looked younger, reckless somehow. Her arms wrapped around Claire in a brief, tight hug.

“Happy birthday,” Claire smiled, pulling back, relieved to find a familiar face in this sea of strangers.

A small box found its way into Zara’s hands and her face lit up. “You didn’t have to…”

Claire pushed her hair back, struggling to keep a nervous smile in place. “It’s no trouble. I… um, hope you’re having a good time?”

It didn’t mean to be a question, but she sort of wanted to know – was this really meant to be fun?

The heat and the scent of suntans and coconut oil and fruity perfume was making her dizzy, the flickering lights giving the place and the crowd a surreal look.

“Yeah,” Zara nodded. “Can I open it later? I don’t want to…” She jerked her chin toward a small table near the bar with a pile of neatly wrapped boxes sitting on top of it. “I don’t want to lose anything.”

“Sure, of course,” Claire nodded if a little distractedly. It didn’t matter, really. She got her a pair of earrings matching one of Zara’s necklaces, hoping it wasn’t a miss.

“Great! Do you need a–” Zara noticed beer in Claire’s hand. “I see you’re all set.” And Claire nodded again, adding some wattage to her smile. “There’re cocktails too, and–”

She got distracted by the arrival of someone else, and the whole scenario repeated – a hug, a few thanks, a gift in exchange for pleasantries. Claire stepped back to make room for more people, moving out of the way of feet and elbows and red solo cups before their contents ended up on her clothes.

It wasn’t that bad, she had to admit. The music was cheery, if a little repetitive in that way that would make you forget it was even there. She didn’t mind watching the people she barely ever saw in non-professional environment before navigate their way around. It made them more real, she decided in the end. Made them 3-dimensional. Yes, there wasn’t a single person in a three-mile radius who would voluntarily talk to her, but she didn’t need that. She could get a martini (probably), stay here for another hour, and then forget—

Someone bumped into her, nearly knocking her down.

“Whoa!” A firm grip around her waist kept her from tumbling down. “Careful there.”

And when she looked up, she found none other than Owen Grady with his arm wrapped around her and her face practically pressed into his chest. Dressed in faded jeans and a blue t-shirt, he blended right in, she thought without much pleasure. At the sight of her, his eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing in his hairline. Well, the surprise was mutual.

Claire scowled at him and stepped back. From this close and without the additional benefit of her heels, he was towering over her, six feet of lean, lazy grace, the corner of his mouth curled into a half-grin, blue eyes studying her with mild amusement. She could feel the heat radiating off his body and smell the forest and salt from the surf on him like he’d just climbed out of the water.

“Do you mind?” She asked when he didn’t move, blocking her way.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing–”

“If you finish that sentence, Mr. Grady, I swear to God…”

“Owen.” He took a swig of beer from his bottle, never breaking the eyes contact, and Claire’s frown deepened, his cockiness rubbing her the wrong way. “What’s with the formalities, Claire?”

The way he said her name – drawled it, really – made her skin tingle. She pursed her lips into a thin displeased line. One mistake of a date gave him no right to be so frivolous and familiar with her, and just because the place was packed, he didn’t have to stand practically on her toes, either.

“Why don’t you go…”

She wasn’t sure if she was going to wish him a nice evening or suggest he go straight to hell when a girl in short denim cut-offs appeared by his side. It was by her short dark hair that Claire recognized a clerk from the souvenir store. “Owen!” She looped her arm through his. “Are you coming?” And then she saw Claire, her eyes growing wide. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She made no attempt to let go of him, though.

“It’s okay,” Claire flashed a cheery smile at her. “Mr. Grady was just leaving.”

“In a sec,” Owen told to the girl without so much as a glance.

Madeline? Melanie? Claire couldn’t recall. After a brief hesitation, she stepped back though, eyeing the two of them with unmasked puzzlement. And then she disappeared in the crowd without another word. Claire sighed subtly, feeling with her very skin the wheel of gossip start churning. Granted, she had an excuse to be here – heaven help her if she’d come here by choice! – but it was a small consolation.

Meredith! Of course!

Claire stepped around Owen with a half-hearted, “Excuse me,” and turned to the bartender. “Martini, dry,” she asked. “Please.”

A grim-looking man on the other side of the counter nodded curtly and she allowed her gaze to travel over the rows of bottles on the shelf behind him, some of them clearly sitting there for decoration. Pink and yellow and green – they glinted in the blinking light of fairy-lights, reminding her of fireflies she and her sister used to capture in the park in the summer, putting them in mason jars only to release them on the way home.

The memory made the corners of her mouth lift.

“You’re like a whole different person now.”

Owen’s words gave her a start and Claire whipped her head around to find him still standing beside her, leaning on the polished counter as her peered at her.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” She asked in an almost bored voice. “It’s rude to make your date wait.” With that, she smirked. “Then again, when did that ever stop you? I would know, after all.”

“She’s not my–” Owen started and cut off. “I’ve never made you wait,” he said, his voice so low Claire wasn’t sure if he actually said anything, what with the music blaring.

She hummed. “Maybe for a good time.”

“Ouch.” He actually laughed, not at all insulted. “You gonna finish that?”

“Be my guest.”

She pushed her untouched beer to him along the counter just as the barman sat her martini in front of her.

“Cheers, Ms. Dearing.” Owen touched his – her – beer to Claire’s glass, and by the time she thanked the barman and turned around, he was gone.

The music got louder, the voices more excited. In the next hour, Claire caught sight of Zara a time or two and got a hug from Barry who, she was certain, needed to lay off booze and go get some fresh air instead. He was tipsy enough to make her suspect he wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow, but she still found this kind of affection unexpectedly heartwarming. He made her promise him that she would come here again and she easily agreed, knowing he wouldn’t really care if she actually did.

She talked to a couple more people, mostly those who had little to no idea who she was – a pointless chit-chat about the heat and stale nachos this place was offering and the best burger joint on the island. Her side of the conversation was mostly monosyllabic and consisted of nodding her head a lot, but she didn’t mind. all things considered, this felt like a frat party of sorts, and maybe it wasn’t the worst kind of experience.

The breeze coming from the ocean felt surprisingly nice on her face when she finally stepped outside, the sand soft beneath thin soles of her shoes.

“Claire!” Zara materialized beside her, breathless and bright-eyed. “C’mere!”

“I was actually–” Claire started, looking longingly toward her car parked somewhere on the road, “—leaving,” she finished just as they stepped around a cluster of bushes and found themselves in front of a small bonfire and half a dozen people sitting around it, talking over each other.

Zara plopped down onto one of the logs, pulling Claire down to sit beside her. “I really have to–” Claire began again in a loud whisper.

“Truth or dare!” Someone exclaimed all of a sudden, and the offer instantly drowned in the cheers of approval mixed with loud clapping.

Hell, no! Claire thought and started to rise, ready to bolt, whatever the cost, and feeling not nearly drunk enough to even consider the horrendous repercussions of this plan.

“I dare you to play,” a familiar voice said lazily right beside her.

Of course, he was there, she realized with dismay. The ever-present Owen I’m-so-cool-they-have-my-picture-in-the-dictionary-near-the-definition-of-cool Grady. Even after the scant light of the bar, the beach seemed darker still, the faces hidden in the shadows. Even with the fire – Jesus Christ, it was already hot! Whose brilliant ideas was it to start a fire?! – the most she could see for a solid minute was the people’s knees. And now she felt trapped.

Silence fell around them, and in that moment, Claire could feel the eyes of everyone on them, watching them. Waiting.

She lowered down slowly, promising herself to kill him sometime in the near future. Maybe drown him – the ocean was right there. Maybe not with the witnesses, though, Claire decided grimly. Instead, she reached for his beer and pointedly gulped down half of it before returning it to him to the sound of a loud, excited whistling.

In the end, it turned out not being such a bad thing.

Claire leaned a few embarrassing college stories she kind of hoped she would never find out about the people she was working with, somewhat grateful for the darkness and the light buzz in her head. There was a chance she wouldn’t remember half of them by morning.

A guy from the Control Room had to pour half a bottle of beer on his head – it would’ve been a full bottle if there was one. And a girl from the petting zoo had to do cartwheels, which she couldn’t, so she ended up being thrown into the surf.

There was an attempted – and failed – breakdance on the sand, a clothes swap between Barry and a receptionist from the hotel, which left everyone in stitches when he put on her crop top.

All things considered, it felt weirdly normal to just… be, without either of them looking at her like she was some kind of different species.

When it was Owen’s turn to ask the question for the second time, he turned to her, eyeing her contemplatively for a moment or two, and Claire’s heart did a somersault in her chest, fluttering against her ribcage.

“Truth or dare?” He asked in a low, husky voice, his mouth curved ever so slightly.

“Dare,” she said, surprised by her own boldness.

His eyebrow cocked in surprise.

“Kiss me.”

And just like that, everyone was staring at them again, the silence of the night interrupted only by the gentle lapping of the waves against the sand.

Claire scoffed, not at all surprised and if a little put off by his boldness, tempted to laugh in his face. And then she reconsidered. It was just a game, and at least she’d get to keep her clothes on. For a moment, she thought of stomping off, but really, she had already admitted to an awkward thing or two and maybe that last round of beer was not the best idea, but what bad could happen from kissing someone? In the back of her mind, she was certain the whole point of this challenge was Owen trying to push as many of her buttons as he could, maybe get her to storm off.

And that thought alone got Claire to lean forward and press her mouth to his for a quick kiss.

However, when she started to pull away, Owen’s palm cupped over her cheek, and Claire’s lips parted, his tongue darting between her teeth. He tasted of beer and summer and something vaguely familiar in a way that felt more like a déjà vu than a memory. It caught her by surprise, her head spinning and heat pooling in her stomach.

His fingers pushed into her hair, and… Jesus, the man could kidd. Two could play that game, she decided, and bit his bottom lip lightly, pulling at it. A low, guttural groan formed in the back of Owen’s throat, and she hoped as hell no one else heard it.

They pulled away from one another to a peal of laughter and a loud wooohooo! Owen’s eyes, when they locked with hers, were glazed over and dark with wanting that made her breath hitch in her throat, his chest heaving.

“Truth or dare, Mr. Grady?” Claire smirked, her eyes narrowed.

Owen finished his drink in one gulp. “Truth.”

“Why did you ask me out?”

“To find out what this,” his gaze darted down to her lips, “felt like.”

He might have as well dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on her.

Just a joke. She was just a joke to him.

Jaw set tautly, Claire leaped up to her feet, ignoring the loud protests of the rest of Zara’s party and headed for her car, fumbling for her keys only to realize that she was hardly in any condition to drive for at least eight more hours. Great. Fucking great!

“Claire!”

She didn’t turn.

“Claire, wait!”

“You’re such an ass!” She whirled around nearly causing Owen to bump into her and jabbed a finger at him. “And just for a moment there I almost thought–” She cut off and growled to herself, annoyed with herself for getting caught in the moment, for allowing herself to have fun. “Go back,” she snapped at him, wishing the sand wasn’t making walking so damn complicated.

“Look, let me expla–”

“Save it,” Claire shook the sand out of her sandals when she reached the paved pathway. God, she was so stupid. Pathetic…

“It wasn’t like that. I mean—it came out the wrong way.”

She turned around abruptly. “What do you want me to say, Owen? Congratulations! You got what you wanted, and all it took was a martini and a few beers. You can cross that off your bucket list, or, I don’t know, your Great List of Achievements.”

He stared at her for a long moment, uncertain of what was more sobering – her implications or the fact that she’d just used his first name for maybe the second time ever. “You can’t drive like this.”

“Wasn’t going it,” she snorted. “I just need to get my purse.” The hotel was only a couple of miles away. She could walk and pick up her car in the morning.

“Look, I’m sorry. It was a shitty to way to say it like… I asked you out because I wanted to know you.” She stared at him. He opened his mouth, closed it again, completely at a loss for words. Then shook his head. “Let me take you home.”

“You’re drunk,” Claire muttered even though for only a fraction of a moment, it didn’t seem like a bad idea.

“I’m not, actually. I had a couple of beers. They’d long worn off.”

She scowled at him, weighing her options. It beat having to walk in the middle of the night – the park was generally a safe place, but she couldn’t disregard the fact that it was still full of wild animals that were prone to testing the barriers whenever they could, and that thought alone gave Claire chills.

And still…

“I think I’ll be fine,” she huffed.

The bar was still open, its lights glinting behind the trees. The crowd had long thinned but she could still hear the hum of conversations, the music playing, muffled by the sound of the ocean.

“For heaven’s sake! Pretend I’m someone else if it bothers you this much.”

Claire’s frown deepened. She was tired and cranky and more than a little tipsy, and she wasn’t sure what annoyed her more – the fact that Owen Grady wouldn’t leave her the hell alone, that she didn’t really want him to, or that the ‘pretending’ part didn’t occur to her first. How on earth did they end up here?

“Fine,” she said through her teeth. “Where’s your car?”

“Well, it’s not really, strictly speaking–” He rubbed his neck, and pointed at his bike parked at the curb.

Claire’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. Hell, no! You’re kidding me, right?”

Owen sighed. “Just give me your keys.”

This was not how she thought this night would end, but the next thing Claire knew, she was doing as he’d asked, and he was opening the passenger door for her, and when she turned to thank him – an automatic response that had nothing to do with the fact that she felt very little gratitude at the moment, he was suddenly right there, his chin at her eye level. It was too dark to see anything, his face in the shadows, entirely unreadable. And then his fingers were in her hair, framing her face, and his mouth was moving against hers in that urgent, hungry way that made Claire weak in her knees.

She gripped his shirt, pulling herself up and closer to him, her arms weaving around his neck, hands carding through his hair. His palms slid down her back, splayed on her ribs, slipping under her top. Claire gasped, her guard crumbling.

“Okay, just… um, how drunk are you?” Owen murmured, kissing his way down her neck, catching her earlobe between his teeth. She moaned softly, finding it near impossible to stay focused, or keep her eyes open, or function, period.

Claire swallowed, hard, and pulled back just far enough away to catch her breath. “I’m not… not enough not to know what’s going on,” she whispered, tracing her fingers along the collar of his shirt, over the back of his neck.

He pecked her on the lips one more time, and she could feel the curve of his smile that echoed with a flurry in her chest. “So, I guess, the next question is – your place or mine?”

—

Claire woke up to a pounding headache and the sound of a blender turned on in the kitchen. She squeezed her eyes tight and buried her face in the pillow, willing her mind to shut off for just a little while longer. The sun outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of her suite was bright and merciless, and apparently on a mission to burn right through her eyelids.

The first thing that dawned on her was that it was late, later than she’d normally stay in bed even on the weekend. The second was that this was her bed – her soft linen, her pillow – and she found that realization comforting. And finally – the blender?

In the kitchen, Owen was rummaging through her fridge, humming something under his breath. He straightened up when she stepped out of the bedroom, furiously rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The fact that he was only wearing his funny-looking boxers with the ‘claw rip’ print across his butt made her smile and her cheeks grow warm by the second. He broke into a wide grin at the sight of her bedhead and a ratty shirt Claire normally slept in and that was the only thing she was bothered to pull on half a minute ago.

“Look who’s still alive,” Owen commented brightly and she regarded him with mock displeasure.

“I’m not–”

His palm on her cheek and his mouth pressed to hers cut her off, making her lose the train of her thought. “Here, drink this.” He thrust a glass of something that looked more like swamp water mixed with clay into her hand. “It’ll fix you right up.”

“I’m fine,” she protested, but took a cautious sip nonetheless, grimacing at the taste and smell of it. “I don’t usually drink—Do I want to know what’s in this?” He shook his head. “Thought so.” Another sip settled in her stomach. “Look, last night–”

“Was great.” Owen leaned against one of the tall bar stools near the counter and pulled her toward him, his arms locked behind her back and their eyes on the same level. He was looking at her with the wondrous expression of someone who’d found his dream present under the Christmas tree, and it nearly made her heart burst. “Our best date so far.”

Claire’s jaw dropped. “This was not a date!”

He shrugged, not at all perplexed. “Sure it was. We have a few drinks, had some fun, you kissed me, we had sex. Sounds like a date to me.”

His eyebrows wiggled suggestively, and Claire smacked him lightly on the shoulder, all righteous indignation, but when she tried to pull away, he dropped the act. His face became serious and he traced his fingers along her cheek, pushing her hair back and lifting her chin until she was looking at him. His thumb run along her lower lip, and Claire forgot how to breathe.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” She asked wearily, struggling to bite back a smile that kept tugging at her lips.

“Uh-huh,” Owen nodded eagerly. “Wanna make a day of it?”

#jurassic world #clawen #owen grady #claire dearing #clawen fic #it's old and silly but whatever

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