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dontworrysunflower · 4 years ago

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Merry Fucking Christmas | h.s.

a/n: i’m baaaaccckk!! lol idk it took me a while to finish this and i was gonna have it finished before christmas but then i was exposed to covid so i was little paranoid but anyway (i’m good tho). merry christmas and happy holidays!! i know this years been hard but hopefully we can make it a little better :)

warnings: drinking, angst?? idk not proof read word vomit, some language too

word count: 3.1k

also thank you @watchmegetobsessed !!

feedback/reblogs appreciated

You knew the holidays this year were going to be difficult. You procrastinated on getting gifts for your friends. Your work seemed to pile up on your desk since you got your promotion. You weren’t able to fly back home, and you still had some thanksgiving weight you weren’t able to put off.

Oh yeah, another thing. Harry was still with his girlfriend.

You met Katy, Harry’s girlfriend, at his birthday party in February. She was the epitome of ‘his type’. She had bleach blonde extensions and the bluest eyes you've ever seen. She was tall and really, really loud.

Since then, she’s all he ever talked about when they weren’t together, but when they were in the same room, boy did you want to gag.

You thought they would last maybe three to four months, you were so sure, you bet with some of your other friends.

Needless to say, you lost quite a lot of money.

You tried not to let it bother you, really. But it was so hard when Harry is the literal sweetest person you’ve met, had the voice of an angel and wasn’t bad to look at.

You felt you were the closest with Harry when you moved to London. He made you feel welcome in your little friends group. There was a little flirting game between the two of you that you didn’t even notice until one of your friends brought it up.

“Oh c’mon, it’s so obvious you like each other.” Margot slurred, her second glass clinking against the table as she finished every drop.

“What?” You asked, baffled. Your eyes were wide and your face started to heat up. “He doesn’t like me.”

“But you like him?” Ava, a friend from work, smirked at you.

You stumbled on your words, wiping at the condensation on your glass.

But since he was in a relationship now, you felt almost icky around him. You felt so uncomfortable around him that you did whatever you could to not be in the same room as him.

You were ready for the holidays, you thought. It would give you a break from constantly thinking about him being so busy with your family back in your hometown.

You should’ve known London weather wouldn’t be in your favor. It rained constantly everyday and the fog seemed to get closer to the ground every other day. The weather was getting so bad that you started working from home, the roads too wet and icy to drive on. So honestly, you weren’t that surprised when airports closed due to the weather, meaning you had to spend Christmas in London.

With Harry.

The day after flights were cancelled Harry texted on your group chat saying he could host a dinner and party on Christmas eve and everyone was invited. You watched texts from your other friends flood in, some excited vulgar words were thrown in there as well.

You never responded. Not only because you still felt weird around him for having this massive crush on him, but because things haven’t really been the same between you two.

You can’t remember the last time you had a full on conversation with him before you had to excuse yourself because you couldn’t take the ache in your chest when you were around him, and he wasn’t yours. You can’t remember the last joke he ever told you or when you went out for lunch or drinks when it was only the two of you. You were sure he noticed how weird you were around him, but never said anything, so you let it be.

As the day neared, your mind would change on whether you were going or not. You didn’t want to seem bitchy and cold on what was supposed to be the happiest and cheerful day of the year, so you thought you would go. You thought of every reason you shouldn’t go that had nothing to do with Harry, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him cozy up with his very serious girlfriend.

But there would be alcohol, so you decided to go.

•••

Hey (y/n)! Think you come over early and help me set up for tomorrow? H xx

You stared at the text for what seemed like hours, but it was only a couple seconds. Before you could even register what your fingers were doing, you tied up a quick message and hit send before you could stop yourself.

Of course!! See you tomorrow!

You hated yourself for the rest of the day. Why would you do this to yourself? You could barely be in the same room as him and some other friends. How would you survive being alone before the party started?

•••

The butterflies in your stomach have not been able to settle since you woke up Christmas Eve morning. Just the thought of seeing him made you nervous. You almost didn’t get out of bed that morning. But you pat yourself on the back when your feet finally hit your wooden flooring and moved on with your day.

Your shoulders hung low beside you as the time to meet up grew closer, the sun lowering behind you, Christmas lights and inflatable decorations coming to life as stars dotted the sky.

You sighed heavily as you styled your hair and naturally did your makeup.

You slid on your silky, tight dress and grabbed your coat and quickly made your way to your car to get away from the bitter cold.

You rubbed your hands together, blowing into them to regain some feeling before turning the key into the ignition, quickly turning the heater on, Mariah Carey blasting through your speakers.

You were about to pull out of your driveway, mumbling along to Mariah’s notes when you realized you forgot the gifts.

•••

Your shoulders were hunched up as you knocked on the white door, your foot tapping against the brick stairs of Harry’s house as you waited for him to open it in the freezing cold.

You could hear shuffling from the other side and watched the doorknob wiggle, Harry having trouble with his lock since June and still hasn’t had anyone fix it.

The door swings open to reveal Harry in his glory, brown corduroy pants and an ugly Christmas sweater under an apron that’s tied around his slender waist that you’ve always been jealous of.

“Hey, sorry, come on in.” Harry said to you before moving out of the way, a bowl nestled between his side and his arm.

You mumbled a quiet thank you before stepping in, your cheeks reddening at the warmth enveloping you as you walked through the foyer of his home.

“Mm,” he hummed as he remembered something. He puts down the bowl he had on his white kitchen counter and waddles over to you, a small curve on his lips as he wrapped his arms around you. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You hate that nickname. But you don’t. You hate the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when he says that word. You hate the goosebumps it causes you and the hairs sticking up on your neck when he says the one thing you feel too harshly for him. And you hate how much he doesn’t feel it back.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.” You mumbled into his neck, his cologne flooding your senses bringing you comfort.

He doesn’t let go of you yet, but he backs up just a little to see you. “You look gorgeous, (y/n).”

The air gets stuck in your lungs and you almost forgot how to formulate words. You hoped Harry thought the pigment on your cheeks would be from the cold because it totally was. Before it was obvious how his words affected you, you stuttered out a few words. “Thank you, you look nice too.”

He chuckled at you, the breath passing his lips hitting your neck, a tingle passing through your spine. “You don’t have to lie, darling.” He squeezed you one last time before letting you go, your body instantly becoming colder as he backed away.

There's a low hum of Christmas music playing in his surround sound system, a tall tree tucked in a corner between his burning fireplace and window looking out onto the street.

You turn your attention back to Harry as he speaks up again, his famous dimples puncturing his cheeks. “Thanks fo’ comin’ early to help me out.”

You rolled your coat off your shoulders and hung by the door, walking up to him as he moved around the kitchen. “Oh yeah, it’s no problem. Not like I had anything else to do.”

He gave you a small sympathetic smile before throwing a tray full of greens into the oven. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go see your family.”

You shrug as you run your finger on the edge of his marble counter. “It’s alright, nothing I can do much anyway.” You perk up when you remember what you’re doing here so early in the first place. “Guess that’s why I’m here, no? What can I help you with?” Your heels click as you move around the counter closer to him.

“Nope.” His lips puckered as he pushed you back to where you were standing. “Just stand there and talk to me. Wine?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you blindly nod, watching him uncork a bottle of Moscato. Your favorite.

He hands you a glass of the sparkling wine before turning back around to the dishes, prepping food of all kinds for everyone and most importantly; eggnog.

“But, you said you needed my help.”

He chuckled nervously, his cheeks reddening. From your comment or from the wine? You weren’t going to get your hopes up. “I just need some company before the party. Just stand there and look pretty.”

You try your hardest ignore the blush on your cheeks. You twirl the wine glass from the neck, watching the liquid swirl around in the depths of the glass. “What about Katy?”

He sighs deeply, opening the oven to check on the food. “We’ve been kind of fighting lately.”

You did your best to stop the grin from forming on your lips, hoping he did notice your sudden burst at the new information. They are still together, so you can’t act on anything. “I’m sorry. Can I ask what’s going on?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know really. Anything and everything. Every little thing I do annoys her and anything she does annoys me. It just wasn’t the same.”

“Is she coming?” You ask before you can think about it.

He shrugs again, shoulders hanging more than usual. “I don’t think so. She said she was staying home since she can‘t fly back to her family either.”

A silence hangs between the two of you when neither of you said anything, not really sure of what needs to be said next.

“I don’t think I feel the same way for her as I did in the beginning.” Harry mumbled, arms crossed over his chest as his hip leaning against the counter, his usually bright eyes a little darker, a little sadder.

You walk up to him and lay your hand on his shoulder, giving him a small smile. “It’s not my business but, if you really feel that way, you shouldn’t lead her on, it’ll only hurt both of you.”

Harry looks down at the floor as he nods. “Thanks, love.”

There’s a wave of silence between you again as he raises his head to look at you. You almost felt small under his gaze. Something about his crystal green eyes always made you nervous. You were scared he could see what you were really thinking.

And you also swear his eyes fell to your lips.

•••

The dinner party was in full swing now, people’s laughter bleeding in with the loud Christmas music playing around the house. Some people were dancing in front of the fireplace, drinks being refilled every once in a while.

You were standing by the counter with your friends, Margot and Ava, chatting and drinking your eggnog instead of the wine you had before the party started. You had completely forgotten about the wonderful man hosting this party, the conversation you had earlier with him slipping your mind as the drink in your hand lowered to the bottom of the glass, intoxicating your thoughts.

Even though you offered to help, Harry didn’t let you help with the rest of dinner before everyone came over, so now the food still wasn’t ready as people flooded in. You heard him say something about potatoes and that was as much as you knew of the food preparation and when you would be able to eat.

The music is lowered a bit and then a clicking sound was heard, everyone turning their heads towards Harry, who clinked a fork against his glass. “Dinner is ready!”

Everyone cheered and started making their way towards the dining room. Most people had already filtered towards the next room when a knock on the front door was heard.

You turned your head as Harry twisted the knob. You were sure Harry's face mimicked yours when you saw who was standing at the doorway.

There stood Katy, hair newly bleached and a little overdressed.

She wasted no time in wrapping her arms around him, her plump lips repeatedly marking his face with the bright lipstick.

“Oh god,” you waltzed over towards Ava, who was pouring herself a new glass of eggnog. “pass me the eggnog, I can’t stand this sober.” You pushed her over slightly and grabbed the handle of the ladle she was using, filling up your cup almost to the brim.

Ava looked at you in curiosity at your sudden change, carefully looking over at the lovely couple still by the door. “Wait, I thought you told me they were fighting.” She whispered beside you, eyes widening as she watched you gulp down some of the eggnog you just served yourself to give yourself some more.

“Guess fucking not.” You were much less sober now, on the brink of tipsy and drunk. Your words slurred, eyelids heavy, vision blurry. “Let’s go fucking eat.” You dragged Ava by the wrist towards the commotion in the dining room, almost, but not quite forgetting about the couple behind you.

•••

You’ve had four glasses of eggnog. Or was it five? But now, you stand in front of the bowl, pouring some into your glass again, making it six.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” You hear his sultry voice behind you, his tone a little sassy and annoyed, but you didn’t care.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You slurred, turning around to face him. His pink lips were turned down in a frown, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration, his buff arms that were constricted in his sweater cross in front of his chest. “Gonna go kiss your girlfriend some more?” You stumbled on your feet, your drink almost spilling over the rim.

“What does that have to do with anything?” His face changed from annoyance to confusion. His thumb twisting the ring on his other finger nervously.

You open your mouth to retaliate, but even in this drunk state you knew not to say anything. You chug the creamy drink, keeping eye contact with him, watching his face change again. You didn’t care.

He obviously didn’t care either.

You sighed dramatically as you finished the drink. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

•••

You had sobered up quite a bit after your little encounter with Harry, mainly because there was no eggnog left.

You realized it was for the better though, so you made your way back into the kitchen, doing your best to not stumble or bump against anything as you grabbed an empty cup to fill with water.

“I am really sorry.” You knew his voice anywhere. But it wasn’t his usual chirpy, charming voice he had that always soothed you, it sounded more sad and somber.

“On Christmas? Out of any day you chose today?” Katy sniffled, voice wobbly and hurt.

“I know but, you know we can’t go on any longer, we’ll just hurt each other more.”

“I think I'm going to head out.”

You don’t hear Harry say anything back, but the sound of the door clicking open catches your attention and you almost turn around to watch.

“I just have one question.” Katy said weakly.

You walked away before you could hear anything else.

•••

Even though you were still a little upset at Harry (For what? You weren’t sure anymore), you stayed behind as everyone left to help him clean up before you head home.

You were putting things back in his refrigerator when you heard the front door close, the light chatter and drunken goodbyes silenced by the wooden door.

You kept your back towards the door, suddenly nervous of the words that would be spoken between the two of you.

“(y/n), can we talk?” Harry’s voice was low and sultry, your knees almost gave out.

“I should um-I should get going. It’s late.” You hurry around him to grab your things and for the door, but he holds your wrist.

“Please?” He sounded desperate, and for the first time in what felt like days you looked up into his emerald eyes. There was that desperate look in his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down into a frown.

You sigh and nod slowly.

He lets go of your wrist and stuffed his hands in his back pockets, his pink cheeks either from the cold or from nervousness.

“I’m sorry.” He said suddenly. “I didn’t mean to get mad and I know I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Is that it?

You weren’t going to lie, you thought he would profess his love to you or something.

“I um- I also,” he swallows and takes your hand, his rings cold to the touch. “I broke up with Katy.”

Your mouth opened for words to come out but nothing ever left your lips.

“Do you want to know the real reason why Katy and I were fighting?”

You’re still speechless, scared of the answer, even though you have an idea of what he'll say.

“I’ve always liked you, (y/n).” His shoulders rise in a deep breath. “I guess, I don’t know, I thought if I started seeing someone else it would it easier but, not being with you this past year has been hell and I know I haven’t made it any easier with being with Katy but—”

Your lips crash on his, your arms wrapping his neck, your fingers immediately tangling in his brown locks.

He stumbles back in shock but grabs at your hips, bringing you closer to his chest.

His pink lips press against yours, the corners slowly turning up into a smile, breaking your kiss.

“Merry fucking Christmas to me.”

•••

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a-pretty-nerd · 4 years ago

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Best Boi Soup

A/N: So it's @trickkombowerskru 's birthday today, aka, my Tumblr wife. We met almost four years ago on this app and we've talked everyday ever since. I am very fortunate to have such a sweet and fun-loving friend to nerd out with everyday, I truly can't imagine life without her. Shes so very talented and smart and she always makes me laugh. So for her 22nd birthday I asked her what she'd like me to write for her and she said, "whatever you want" which might be a mistake lol. So I present to you Best Boi Soup.

A headcannon, blurb, list of the best bois we simp for. I hope you enjoy! Love you, bitch!

Trick

Beginning:

You met Trick while working at a convince store in the rundown town you'd spent your whole life in.

He came in almost every shift you worked to buy a drink, a snack, and a pack of cigarettes.

Everyday he came in, and everyday you wrang him up. He was one of the many regulars you had. You saw him walk in, you greeted each other with a friendly smile and you'd turn around to grab his usual before turning back to the register to ring him up.

"Uh, not today. Thanks though." He shook his head and pushed the pack away from him. You raised your brow.

"Really?" You asked, a little surprised.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Are you vaping now?" You started the small talk. Another part of your routine.

"No. Just, trying to quit." He flashed an awkward smile your way as he handed you the cash.

"Wow, good luck with that." You smiled back.

"Thanks."

"Receipt?"

"No. Thanks. See ya."

"Yeah. See ya." And with that he sauntered out of the store and onto the grey street. Either headed home or to work.

"That Trick?" Your manager asked as he shuffled in from the back office.

"Yeah."

"How's he doing?"

"He seems alright. He's quiting smoking."

"Oh really? Good for him." The old slob mumbled between his teeth as he chewed on a toothpick.

As time went on, your exchanges gradually shifted from friendly to borderline flirty. And you notice his purchasing habits begin to change. He starts brining healthier drinks to the counter, fruits and vegetables as snacks, a sandwich if he's hungry. You tease him for it at first, but he brushes you off with a playful smile.

One day your manager watches your playful exchange as he leans against the old counter. A sly smirk spreads across his face.

"That boy likes you, yknow." He says with a mischievous smile.

"Quit bullying me." You reply, still in a playful and joking tone.

"He only comes in here for you." He tells you.

"No he doesn't." You argue, crossing your arms.

"I've never seen him here when you aren't is all I'm sayin'." The old man chuckled as he raised his hands in defense.

"You're pulling my leg, leave me alone." And with that he had planted a terrible, terrible idea into your head.

Of course you had a crush on Trick. You always thought he was cute but as time went on the butterflies went away and you became good acquaintances, friends maybe. Just friends, right?

Oh no. The butterflies. They're back. Shit.

The next time you saw him, they ravaged your body. Making your knees weak and your cheeks burn. Your heart and raced and you started to sweat. Shit. Be cool. Be cool. Just be normal. This is normal.

"Hey, Y/N." He smiled as he placed his purchase on the counter.

"Hey. How's it going?" You asked, hoping he didn't notice your insuing panic.

"Nothing much. Um...well...actually..." was he blushing? "Y'know Todd?" Todd was a mutual friend of yours. You and Todd went to high school together. Todd and Trick worked together. He was another young adult trapped in that dead end town.

"Yeah."

"So he's having a party tomorrow night at his new place and he wanted me to invite you."

"Todd wanted you to invite me?"

"Yeah, I was thinking I could pick you up? Around 5?" You hissed through your teeth.

"Actually I work-"

"She can go!" Your manager shouted, poking his head out from his office. "She can go." You turned back to Trick with a smile.

"So 5?" You asked.

"5."

Middle:

Dating Trick, or Ryan as you now know, was easy. He was easy to be around, fun-loving, and sweet. He was thoughtful and caring in ways you'd never experienced before. He made you feel safe and happy.

He still stopped by your work everyday to brighten up your day and give you a sweet peck on the lips before heading back to work.

Things were good, until a little over a year into your relationship. You met his Dad.

You knew about Trick's abusive father. He's the reason some dates were cut short. The reason Ryan had to spend the night at your apartment so often in fear of going home. He tried to save up enough to move out, in fact you were in the process of saving so you could move in together.

You watched a man you hadn't recognized walk into the store one day. He was clearly a junky, which, wasn't abnormal there were plenty around here. But unlike the others, he made aggre eye contact. He shuffled around the store, browsing.

At first you thought he was just going to steal, which you usually didn't pay any mind to. It wasn't your job. But soon he came up to the counter with beer and candy. You asked to see his ID, which was mandatory.

"Do I look underage to you!?" The man spat.

"No sir, it's just I can't sell it to you without ID. The register won't let me-"

"Goddammit. Fine." He mumbled as he reached into his pocket and gave you the card. You scanned his ID and continued checking him out. "You're Ryan's girl, ain't ya." You froze. Before you could speak, he interrupted you again. "Little shit thought he could hide you from me." He smiled a rotten toothed grin. He made you sick to your stomach.

All the pain, the trauma, the torture he put Ryan through. It all added up to this weak, distorted, junky. A bizarre idea of a person. You watched him take his receipt and leave without another word.

You didn't want to worry Ryan, so you decided not to tell him about his father's visit. But he just kept showing up to harass you. Sometimes he'd ask how Ryan was doing when he'd stay the night with you. Sometimes he'd comment on your body, try and flirt even. Giving a disgusting laugh when you didn't respond.

"He said he saw you today." Ryan said, hanging his head low as he watched you get into his van.

"Who said?" You asked, not thinking of it at first.

"My dad." You paused. "He said he's been...visiting you at work latley." He was visibly shaken.

"Are you okay?"

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"I didn't want to worry you. I'm fine, really. He hasn't done anything..." you tried to brush it off.

"Just because he hasn't, doesn't mean he won't." You watched him, his wild eyes looking out the windshield.

"Well then...what do you wanna do?"

Happily Ever After:

"Let's run away." He whispered softly against your forehead before leaving sweet kisses against the skin. Your bodies resting skin to skin against each other as you laid in your bed.

"What?" You giggled, pulling back to look up at him. He wore a sweet and confident smile for you.

"Let's run away together. Just you and me." He squeezed you tighter against him.

"Where would we go?"

"Anywhere. Just take me away from here." He begged as he left gentle kisses against your temple.

"What about work? What about moving in together?"

"We'll find other jobs. We'll take our money and run. Live in my van until we find a place."

"I thought that van was your dad's."

"We'll steal it."

"And what if the cops come after us?"

"He's too chicken shit to call the cops."

"You really wanna run away together?"

"With every fiber of my being."

Klaus

Beginning:

You met Klaus in rehab.

You were there for ...reasons. And Klaus was there for ...reasons...

Klaus was attractive, free flowing, free thinking, wild and fun. Everything you wanted and more. It's only natural that you were attracted to him so that hook up in rehab was only inevitable.

It was no surprise that it got him transferred thought. So you pouted about never seeing the best sex of your life ever again and went on with your life.

You struggled, as everyone in rehab does but you were lucky in that you made a good recovery. You worked hard to help yourself get out of your sticky situation and move on to bigger and better things.

That was, until you saw him again.

There he was, sitting there at the breakfast bar where you worked.

"Hey stranger." You mused as you filled his cup of coffee. Klaus's big green eyes looked up at you.

"Hhheyyyy..." He smiled up at you with a confused brow. You chuckled at him, taking his order and walking away. He looked up at you such sweet adoring eyes everytime you came by. "Hey." He grabbed your wrist to get your attention. His eyes searching yours for answers. "Do I know you. You seem familiar." You laughed at him.

"Rehab. Four years ago. Y/N, Y/L/N." He let out a high pitched laugh and a cheerful huff.

"That's right! We-uh-um-yknow." His fingers pointed back and forth in a funny suggestion. You giggled with him and nodded.

"Yes, 'we-uh-um-yknowed'. It got you kicked out, remember?You joked.

"Wow! Hah! It's uh. It's good to see you. You look...well you look, g-good."

"Thank you. So do you."

"Well, hah, I try." You shared a few laughs back and forth ending with you giving Klaus your number.

Middle:

Dating Klaus was...strange. Just as strange as him.

Sometimes he'd disappear months on end, only sometimes leaving a "I'll be gone, love you" note or text. But you felt content with Klaus.

When he was around he shrouded you in love and affection. He appreciates your patience with him and his traumas. His PTSD coming and going as it pleases.

He's there for you when things get rough, and you're there for him. Unconditionally and truly.

He's hopelessly in love with you, terrified that his family business will endanger you. Trying to keep you as distant and as safe as possible. Only forced to get you involved in order to protect you. Even then, you better be able to handle yourself in case of emergencies.

Happily Ever After:

Your happily ever after consists of buying a plot of land in the middle of nowhere to live out your lives in peace.

Taking care of yourselves and one another in the comfort of your own private get away.

Jasper:

Beginning:

You met Jasper during a rough time in both your lives. You were a grounder, one of the grounders tasked with spying on The 100.

You were always in the trees, hiding, watching, getting information for the planned attack.

Jasper caught your eye simply for the fact that he survived a spear to the chest. What kind of space magic was that? It also didn't hurt that he was cute and awkward and you kinda just wanted to jump some space boy bones.

Needless to say you developed a bit of a crush on Jasper without him even knowing of your existence. When Lincoln got involved, things got messy. You felt bad for The 100, after all, you saw no real reason why the grounders and the space people couldn't just work something out. But your people were fearful, and so were The 100. Or Skycrew as you called them.

So you helped in little ways you could, joining Lincoln and aiding their side when Mount Weather got involved.

Needless to say when Mount Weather went down, and you met Jasper for the first time, things were not as you had hoped.

Jasper was traumatized, haunted by the deaths of an entire civilization. Tortured by the death of his girlfriend. You felt bad for him. And he wasn't too fond of you.

Being a grounder meant you were his enemy to him. Grounders caused trouble, grounders were responsible in the first place. He associated you with his scar.

And while is rejection hurt at first, he warmed up to you as you worked along side Raven and the rest of his friends. Monty and you grew especially close because he was a good teacher, and he would listen to you about your experiences as a grounder. You had import information about the land that Skycrew did not.

Soon, Jasper got used to you being around. But that didn't mean he liked you.

Middle:

One night in particular, you were fed up being bullied by Jasper. Jasper wasn't the only one who didn't trust you but, he certainly was the loudest.

You walked into the common place, noticing Jasper sitting at a table drinking as per usual. You tried to mind your own business but he taunted you.

"Hey grounder!" He knew your name. He refused to use it. You looked after a few calls. A sloppy smile stretched across his face. "Why don't you show me some of your grounder magic er whatever."

"Grounder magic?" You scoffed. Grounders were, out off all the groups, the most spiritual. And some skycrew had started rumors that you were a witch. You had taught Monty in particular how to grow and harvest herbs that could aid in healing wounds and help the sick. Your symbolic tattoos and dress didn't help your case. You liked to think you were an agent of peace, but clearly your efforts were for not.

"Magic." You scoffed at him.

"Yeah c'mon witch. Read my palm." He held out his hand with a drunken smile. Watching with heavy eyelids as you approached. Taking a seat on the bench beside him, slowly taking his hand in yours, and pressing it harshly against the metal table below. Jasper gave a sharp gasp of pain before you quickly let go and snatched the bottle of liquor from him. "Ow! Hey! Give that back!" He shouted after you.

You cursed him before drinking from the bottle and exiting to walk back to your room. Moonshine for dinner, you thought. You took large gulps from the bottle as you walked back to your room, already feeling dizzy by the time you got back. You entered the broom closet of a room, capping the bottle and tossing it onto your bed. Stripping of your clothes to change. You paused when you heard a loud knock at the door.

Jasper was on the other side, just as drunk as you, just as pissed. He froze when you opened the door, dressed down to just a bra and pants. Were always this hot? He asked himself.

"Piss off, Skycrew." You muttered, trying to shut the door. He wedged himself between the door and aggressively pushed his way through.

"I paid for that bottle with my own rations now hand it over!"

"Consider it payment for your palm reading you bastard!" You shouted back, trying to push him back out but failing to as he wrenched his way in. He lunged for the bottle, making you lunge for him in an immature and ridiculous mess of a scuffle. You pulled on the collar of his shirt, choking him enough to disorient and bring him back. He collapsed to the floor, reaching out and pulling on your ankle to get you down to his level.

Once on all fours, he climbed over you, only to get an elbow to his ribs. You pinned him down, sitting on his chest, legs on either side. Your hands pressing his wrists into the concrete floor below, and your chest pressed flush against his face.

In any other circumstances, Jasper would have shouted for you to get off. To let him go. But now, suddenly, in his half-drunk half-horny state, he relaxed into this position. He stopped fighting and for a moment so did you. Panting and content with your win, you released him. Looking down from your position on his chest. He was beet red.

His heavy eyes looking up at, dilated and needy. That look made you melt. Was he okay? Had you hurt him?

Jasper was more than okay, for once he had forgotten about everything. Nothing else mattered but you and your soft supple body. You went to get up off of him, but his hands came up and pressed you back down on him. Forcing your lips to meet his.

Drunken sex helped keep the two of you sane. Some nights you didn't even need to be drunk, you just needed him as he needed you. You chocked it up to a sex addiction, just another thing to make you both forget the atrocities of war. But, when the chip came around and everything went to shit. You worried for Jasper, as he worried for you.

Happily Ever After:

You watched out for one another, a bond built from pain and trauma grew into a friends with benefits sort of deal. Jasper let himself go, he let himself love again because of you.

Being up in space was weird. Six years and you still weren't used to it. You missed earth more than you could ever imagine but somehow, Jasper made it all okay. Jasper felt like your own tiny part of earth, he made you feel at home.

You'd spend the rest of your years in space with Jasper. Coming to the conclusion that this peaceful life in space was better than the chaos down below. You manned the ship with him. Growing old, having children together, and passing away of old age together. Finally getting the peaceful life you both desired.

#jasper jordan #jasper jordan x reader #the 100 #jasper jordan imagine #klaus x reader #klaus hargreeves #trick tribecky #trick x reader #trick imagine

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yet-another-fan-girl9 · 4 years ago

Text

Heart Of Stone

Summary: You were taught to show no emotions. Emotions were your weakness.

Warnings: language, some angst, blood, self-inflicted pain, death, abusive parents (maybe more)

Word Count: ~5000

A/N: This is one of my submissions for @the--sad--hatter ‘s Birthday Tea Party! Happy Birthday Kara ❤️! Also I’m posting this at 3 am 🤭

Bucky Fic Here

You felt the tickle of the forced tear as it rolled down your cheek. Your target seemed to buy it. Of course, he did. Shaun Bartlett was a friend of your asshole of a mother. He may have been rich, but he had nothing going on upstairs. Nothing good, anyway. He was one of the men who sponsored your mother’s ‘experiments,’ unbeknownst to the Avengers. They suspected the large amounts of money disappearing from his accounts were being funneled to Hydra.

When you sniffed, the grey-haired man put his arm around your waist and pulled you out of the busy gala room. Natasha’s red hair caught your eye before you entered the hallway where, surprise, Steve came out of the bathroom. He made eye contact with you and sent you a small nod. You faked a stumble in your heels and then let out another sob.

“Oh, I just can’t do a-anything,” you cried and hid your face in your hands.

“Shh. There, there.” Bartlett rubbed your arm in what you thought was supposed to be comforting. Instead, it made you want to stab him even more than you already did. “I’m sure you’re good for something.” How ominous, perverted, and condescending.

“We saw you leaving,” Sam’s voice came out of the comm in your ear. “Give us the signal when you’re alone.”

Bartlett led you to his large, ornate office. You did a quick survey of the room before discreetly tapping your comm for your team. Now all you had to do was put a bullet or blade in Bartlett.

“Get yourself comfortable, darlin’.” He shrugged off his suit jacket.

If he thought anything of your sudden lack of tears, he didn’t show it. Honestly, you didn’t think he thought at all. You smiled at him and coyly teased the edge of the slit in your dress. When you finally pulled it away, it revealed a holster carrying a Glock 42 and a simple throwing knife.

Sam, Nat, and Steve burst through the doors at that moment. Your smile quickly disappeared and as Bartlett realized what was happening, your blade found itself embedded between his eyes. His body fell to the ground and the three Avengers in the doorway gaped at you with varying looks of shock and disappointment.

“What the fuck?” Sam broke the silence.

“We were going to question him.” Steve glared at you and Bartlett’s body. “We don’t fucking kill them.”

“And that’s the problem.” Your face remained in its usual stoic expression, but you knew you fucked up when Captain America swore at you. “These types of people—”

“You’re right,” Natasha cut in with a gentle tone. “There are some bad people in the world and maybe they deserve to die, but it’s not your job to decide.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking child. I’m—”

“Can we do this somewhere else?” Sam interrupted this time.

You glared at him but Steve and Nat agreed. You don’t know what happens to dead bodies on missions, but maybe it’s because there usually weren’t any. The entire way back to the compound, someone’s eyes were on you.

Tony was waiting for you when you landed. He raised his eyebrows when he noticed that the four of you were empty handed.

“Aren’t you supposed to have some guy with you?” he asked and studied everyone’s expressions. “What happened?”

“Ask her.” Steve nodded at you before stomping away. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, call everyone to the briefing room. Now.”

You rolled your eyes slightly and Tony looked at you quizzically

“He’s being dramatic,” was all you said.

“Not as dramatic as you’d think, though,” Nat added before following Steve.

“You do know you fucked up, right?” Sam glared at you.

Apparently, everyone had time to let their anger stew on the flight home. You just rolled your eyes again.

“Emotion,” Tony said. He had gotten into a habit of pointing out whenever you made a facial expression. “So what happened?” It was your turn to walk off.

Somehow, you made it to the briefing room without going insane due to Tony’s incessant questioning. Couldn’t he wait one fucking minute? Surely Steve was going to talk all about it during the meeting.

It was quiet when you walked in. Everyone was already situated around the table. You noticed that Loki was here. Loki sightings around the compound were rare, but based on his disgruntled expression that contrasted Thor’s large grin, he didn’t come by choice.

The few times you had seen the raven-haired god, you could have sworn his bright eyes were following you. Like right now, as you took your seat, he was watching you. In a challenge, you narrowed your eyes the slightest bit and saw a small smirk grace Loki’s perfectly sculpted face. Wait, what?

Tony leaned over and muttered, “Emotion.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes lest he do it again.

“You may be wondering why you’re all here,” Steve began. “You may also have noticed that Shaun Bartlett is not with us.” Damn, he was really mad mad about this. “Someone decided to kill him, leaving us without any leads on Hydra. Yet again.”

“I don’t think—” you began before Steve jumped in.

“Yes, you didn’t think. There was no reason to kill him.”

“Yes there was,” you growled.

“Care to share with the rest of us?” Sam crossed his arms.

“We’ve all taken lives before. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You took a life. Of someone who could have had information on Hydra, I might add,” Steve said. “You can leave now. You’re benched for the following three weeks.”

You were about to protest before you realized that the rest of the team was just watching you and Steve go back and forth like a tennis match. You pushed back your seat, which didn’t make as big a screeching sound as you had hoped, and left the room.

Control.

You were a personal person and Bartlett was a personal problem that you were not going to share with the team.

[Week 1, Day 1]

They were leaving. They were all leaving to bust some shit Hydra base. The only ones that were going to be in the compound were you and Loki.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. will be keeping an eye on you,” Tony told you.

“Stay out of trouble.” Steve gave you a hard look.

“Why are looking at me when you say that?” You asked and raised your eyebrow a millimeter. “You do know Loki is standing right next to me. Loki. The fucker who invaded New York.”

“Stay out of trouble.”

You couldn’t believe it. They thought you were going to cause more trouble than Loki? At least Tony gave you an empathetic look before he left, but it was probably for your poor company. Loki turned to you with a mischievous hint glint in his eyes. You rolled your own before marching away.

Don’t let your emotions show, your mother’s voice shot through your head. Emotions are your weakness. Learn to turn them off.

Face muscles relaxed, but hard, calculating eyes. You’ve been slipping up in the year you’ve spent with the Avengers. There was nobody here to beat the emotion out of you.

Except you.

So you found yourself in the gym, improper workout clothes, in front of a punching bag. You looked momentarily at the two acorn-sized pieces of jagged amethyst you always carried. You remembered summoning them on accident when you were five. Your father had promised to carve them into those mini sculptures you’d loved, but that was before your mother betrayed him. Before your mother betrayed you.

It’s because of you she does those… things, this time, it was your father.

Pushing the thoughts of your father out of your head, you placed each amethyst into each unwrapped hand. Each punch you threw at the bag sent sharp pains up your arms as the hard crystals cut into you already scarred palms.

Pain is temporary. Don’t let it stop you.

Yes, mother.

It’s your fault she hurts people.

Okay, father.

If you can’t control your emotions, you can’t control anything.

Her inspiration.

If you can’t get yourself under control, it’ll be your fault they died.

Her muse.

“I’m pretty sure you’re doing that wrong.”

You didn’t jump at the sudden voice, but you noticed a small quartz you had summoned sticking out of the punching bag. Control.

“Don’t sneak up on me,” you replied and looked at him. You weren’t easily spooked, if you could call it that, but somehow the infamous God of Mischief had avoided your senses. You’ll let it slide this time because he was a god. This time.

“I wasn’t trying to.” Loki leaned against a wall and watched you examine your split knuckles. “I’m not an expert but I think you should have protected your hands.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You clenched your fists tighter and noticed small trickles of blood escape from your palms.

“You’re bleeding.”

“No shit,” you said again.

You opened your hands and revealed the bloodied amethysts. Then you pulled the quartz out of the bag, sand pouring from the rip, and stomped past Loki and out of the gym. Thankfully he didn’t follow you.

[Week 1, Day 6]

You haven't seen Loki in the past five days. The only sign of someone else in the large compound was the food missing from the cupboards.

“How are your hands?”

Fuck. You had to restrain yourself from throwing the TV remote at the god’s head and instead, sapphires appeared to bedazzle it.

“Fine,” you held up your scabbed knuckles and scarred palms. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you out of your snake burrow.”

“What are you watching?”

“A movie.” He looked at you for more details so you obliged. “It’s a home invasion movie, but the protagonist is deaf. Do you want to join? I’m not that far in.”

You didn’t know why you had invited him to join, but you were happy when he shrugged and sat at the other end of the couch. Every minute you found yourself glancing over at Loki. He was always wearing green, gold, and black Asgardian clothes. In comparison, you were wearing a sweatshirt and leggings.

“I do believe you’re watching me more than the movie,” he said. Shit, were you really that obvious?

“I’ve seen it before. I like watching people’s reaction to something I know is coming,” you explained. That was true, but it wasn’t the only reason.

“You enjoy observing others.” He wasn’t watching the movie anymore either.

“Are you observing me observing you?” You quirked your eyebrow.

“Perhaps.” Loki smirked.

“Tell me,” you moved so that your body faced him and you were able to rest your head on your arm propped on the back of the sofa. “What do you see?”

“A lot.” He mimicked your position so you mimicked his smirk. “I can see the difference between what you want me to see and what is involuntary. I can see that you see more, think more, and know more than you let on.”

“Then we have that in common.”

You realized how quickly you had gotten comfortable with Loki and honestly, it scared you. You were never comfortable with people. You were never supposed to be comfortable, your parents made sure of that.

“I’m going to bed.” You stood up abruptly and left the living room before he could react. Keep your emotions in check.

Loki didn’t follow you.

[Week 2, Day 2]

You scraped your fork across the bottom of your plate to get the last bits of your dinner. Your white bed sheets were still, thankfully, without any stains. Yes, you had been eating in your room for the past couple of days to avoid Loki. It seemed as if you had become the hermit in this situation.

You placed the empty dish by the door, promising to bring it to the kitchen tomorrow, and stretched your sore muscles from the quick excursion to the gym. The next thing on your nightly routine was relaxation, and you sure utilized the time. With your comfortable sleep clothes on and your favorite show playing, you sunk into your welcoming bed.

“—under arrest for kidnapping, murder, and illegal experimentation.”

“NO!” Your mother’s arms pulled you back. “DON’T TAKE HIM! HE DIDN’T DO ANY OF IT! IT WASN’T HIM!”

“I’m sorry agents,” your mother sniffed as convincing tears rolled down her cheeks. “All of the evidence points to him. I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

“DAD! DON’T LEAVE, DAD!”

“Be quiet. That’s enough of that. Enough!” Sharp nails cut into your shoulder. “Enough with the fucking stalling. Shoot him.”

The familiar gun suddenly felt heavy in your hands as you stared at the gagged man tied to the chair. Your mother said he was an evil man. You raised the gun. The man whimpered against the cloth in his mouth.

“It’s about time you took a life, you’re already eleven.”

He shook his head and pleaded with his eyes.

“Do you see that?” A stray tear cut a path through the blood and grime covering his face. “Emotion. He is fucking weak and the weak ones always die.”

You squeezed the trigger and the man slumped forward.

“Good girl.” Her mouth twisted into a smile. “Good girl. Focus on the items.”

Your eyes were shut tight and your face was damp with sweat. You could feel the gems, crystals, and precious metals surrounding you. The hexagonal quartz and the amethyst that was shaped into a cube. A gold nugget and an emerald ring.

“Do the quartz first.”

You felt the dimensions. The depth. The small scratches on the smooth faces. When you opened your eyes you saw the original crystal and the duplicate you had summoned.

Your mother gave you a few courtesy claps before gesturing towards the nugget. You had the same success you had with the quartz. It wasn’t until you reached the man-made or modified objects when you had problems.

“Pathetic,” your mother spat and you felt her rings cut into your cheek. “Weak.” You heard the sound of a gun cocking. “Try again.”

“I—” you quickly wiped away a tear but your mother noticed.

“No fucking emotion. Emotion is weakness.”

The sound of the gun going off echoed through the room and you felt the bullet tear through your thigh.

You clenched your jaw to trap the groan trying to escape. The echo of the pain slowly faded but the memories lingered. The TV was still on and Netflix's ‘are you still watching?’ screen was up. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. The glowing red numbers of the clock on your bedside table read 1:47.

It was time for a post-midnight snack so you made your way to the kitchen. With a cup of tea and some cereal, you sat in the darkness just… existing, trying not to think of your dream. How many episodes had you missed? Aw, shit. You could’ve brought your dirty plate down. Now you had to do it later. You groaned.

“Is everything okay?”

“Jesus fucking shit, Loki!” You actually threw your spoon at him this time but fortunately he ducked. “I thought I told you don’t sneak up on me.”

“You just make it too easy,” he responded with a smirk.

“Shut up.” You watched him as he moved to sit across from you.

“What are you doing in here?”

“I asked you first,” he responded and you rolled your eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep. I’m sure you can relate.” Loki hummed in agreement. “Your turn.”

“Same reason. Dreams of the past. You never answered my question, by the way. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” You took a sip of your steaming tea.

“I thought we already established that I can read you. You can talk to me if you want. But,” he continued before you could shoot him down. “At least tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I didn’t want to get comfortable,” you said slowly. “It goes against everything I’ve been taught.”

“I pushed away a lot of people throughout my life. I always believed that I was unworthy. My father always told me I was unworthy.”

“It was my mother for me. She taught me most of everything I know.”

“My mother did the same, but with a lighter tone. It seemed as if only she, and occasionally my brother, cared for me.”

“At least you had a brother. My father was kind until my mother got greedy. Until she fucking betrayed us. She blamed everything on him.” You fell silent when you realized that Loki now knew more about you than anyone else.

“Thank you,” he said and he took your hand in his. “I know it’s hard, talking about your past, so thank you for talking to me.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.” You smiled.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you smile. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Your smile grew and for once you didn’t try to hide the emotions that were painted across your face. The smile stayed with you until you fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

[Week 2, Day 4]

Everyone was coming home tomorrow. You cared about the Avengers, they were your friends, but you couldn’t help but mourn the loss of peace and quiet. You liked being alone, though you have been enjoying time spent with Loki.

“Have you chosen a movie yet?” You sat in your new spot, next to the god, and offered him some of your popcorn. Your shoulders brushed against each other’s and the slight touch sent shivers down your spine.

“There are so many choices, but yes.” He took a handful of popcorn.

“Jurassic Park,” you read the title. “A classic. Who knew Loki the Trickster God liked dinosaurs?”

“Well, I don’t know if I like them yet. I haven’t seen the movie.”

“Oh, hush.”

You resumed your new favorite activity of watching Loki. You couldn’t help yourself. You analyzed his eyes, which you noticed changed between blue, green, and hazel in different lightings. You liked his sharp jawline and cheekbones. Your eyes followed the slope of his nose down to his lips. They were pink and they looked soft and all you wanted to do was—

“You’re staring again,” Loki said while Denis Nerdy unsuccessfully tried to flee.

“Well, I just like—”

“Watching reactions. I know,” he gave you his signature smirk. “As much as I enjoy you and your staring, this movie is getting exciting.”

“It was already exciting but you—”

He cut you off again but this time he did it by pressing his lips to yours. It was short, probably only two seconds, but your mind was blissfully blank. He brought his finger to his lips, winked, and then returned to the movie. Loki, you had learned, was the only person able to leave you speechless.

[Week 3, Day 6]

The sound of exaggerated gagging forced you and Loki apart. Your eyes landed on Sam, the source of the gagging. In the past week since they’ve been back, the rest of the Avengers still couldn’t believe the change that had come upon you.

“Can’t you do that somewhere else?” Sam made a face. When the group had finally gotten over the shock and suspicions that one of you had an ulterior motive, they let you and Loki grow closer together. “But honestly, I’m glad to see you happy. Though it’s still strange seeing you with real emotions.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to face Sam. Loki stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist and Sam faked a gag again.

“Oh, grow the fuck up,” you said and smiled when you felt Loki rest his head on your shoulder. “What do you want?”

“Briefing room. Everyone’s invited.” Sam’s gaze moved to Loki. “But I don’t want to see any of your weird, out of character, lovey dovey bullshit.”

You sat in the briefing room, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. Loki held your hand and you put your head on his shoulder. You noticed Nat and Wanda’s smirks and Thor’s beaming smile. Tony narrowed his eyes for a second before giving you a grin and a nod. He, like many others, were wary of Loki but were happy for you. At least he had given up with that ‘Emotion’ shit.

“We tracked where Bartlett’s money was going,” Steve said as he walked in. Your blood ran cold and you sat up. “We had a bit of trouble tracking it after someone killed him,” maybe he was still a little salty, “but we’re getting everyone on this.”

“That means your benching is ending one day early,” Tony said to you. “We’re attacking a large base tomorrow.”

“Is it Hydra?” Wanda asked.

“We actually don’t know,” Steve answered. “But we need to prepare for anything.”

As you were walking out, Steve called your name. You nodded at Loki to go on ahead before going up to the blond.

“You don’t have to tell me the reason you killed Bartlett, but can I have your word that you won’t kill anyone.”

You thought for a moment. Chances were that you were going to see your mother again. Would you be able to control yourself?

“I’m sorry, but I can’t make promises I can’t keep.”

Nobody spoke on the flight to the mission, but the jet was anything but quiet as wind and rain pelted the sides. Your fingers were entwined with Loki’s. The jet landed harshly and when you stepped out, you were instantly drenched. Loki pulled you towards the building, following the glowing lights of Tony’s suit.

Everyone piled into the empty lobby, dripping puddles onto the tiled floor. Loki put his hand on your shoulder and warmth spread through your body as he used his magic to dry you. Sam’s longing stare at your dried uniform almost made you chuckle. Almost. The threat of your mother still hung heavy over your head.

You split up in two teams. Tony, Wanda, Thor, and Sam went left while you, Loki, Nat, and Steve went right. Your team crept down a hall with only a few incursions. You were drawn to a room that was emitting a glowing, blue light.

“What the fuck?” Nat gasped when she took in the room’s contents.

Rows upon rows of tanks filled with glowing liquid and people. This had to be your mother’s doing. Her experiments. A small white square at eye level was on each tank. When you got closer, you realized they were nametags of sorts.

“M. Cowell,” you read the one nearest to you. “Energy manipulation.”

“V. Hargreeves,” Loki read another. “Sound manipulation.”

“These people are all enhanced.”

Steve called your name from deeper in the room. “I think you’ll want to see this.” You found him next to an empty tank. “It’s your name.” He pointed to the tag.

A chill shot through your body as you read your initial and last name. Printed by your name were the words ‘Crystal manipulation.’

“Let’s get out of here,” you whispered and sped your way out to the hallway.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked when he joined you in the hall.

“No.”

The hallway opened up into a tall room, a balcony circled the perimeter above you. Across from you, the other team emerged from their side. Before anyone could say anything, the clicking of heels drew everyone’s attention upwards. Your mother came into view. She was flanked by four armed guards who pointed their rifles down at you.

“Who the fuck are you?” Tony asked.

“I’m hurt that my daughter hasn’t told you about me.” She dramatically placed a hand on her chest.

“Daughter?” the other team echoed but your team looked at you.

“Are you Hydra?” Steve stepped in.

“Oh, heavens no. My organization has nothing to do with Hydra. I’m surprised at how long it took you to track down the Red Sapphire.”

“You’re an organization?” you asked. “You’re not working alone?”

“You can stop playing dumb now, my dear.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You killed Bartlett so the weak little fucker couldn’t blab to the Avengers. But I thought I taught you to clean up crime scenes better. Your prints were everywhere.”

“Is that why you killed him?” Steve turned to you.

“No.” You glared at your mother. “You are not going to get rid of me the same way you got rid of dad.” You felt around with your powers. She was wearing a gold necklace.

“Don’t show emotion. Emotion is weak—”

“Shut up!”

You forced the gold chain around her neck to tighten until your mother was grasping at her neck. You blocked out the voices of the Avengers telling you to stop. The four guards readied their guns so, without releasing your mother, you sent up sharp ammonium phosphate crystals and impaled the four. Your mother’s face was changing colors. The necklace tightened around her neck until it cut her skin. Until she collapsed.

“What did you do?” someone asked before you passed out from the exertion.

You woke up on the floor of the jet.

“Perfect timing,” Tony said. “We just landed.”

The jet’s ramp lowered and everyone walked out without looking at you. You stayed on the ground for a moment, rethinking your actions, regretting nothing, before you picked yourself up and walked out.

“Loki,” you sighed with relief. The god was standing at the bottom of the ramp. When he didn’t return your smile you hesitated. “What’s wrong?”

“You killed your own mother,” he stated and crossed his arms.

“Yeah? She was a wicked, vile bitch.”

“You shouldn’t have done it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” If anyone was going to be on your side, it would have been Loki. “You should understand. Your father was horrible too.”

“I wouldn’t have killed him. He lied to me my entire life. He hated me, belittled me, ignored me and so much more but I wouldn’t have fucking killed him.”

“You don’t know all the things my mother has done.” You felt tears begin to build up. “Try to think of what you would do if your mother killed hundreds, thousands, of people. She hurt others, hurt me. She made me do terrible things.”

“Not as terrible as what you did back there.”

You took a shaky breath and couldn’t prevent the tears from spilling.

“People always said I was the cruel one but all this time, it was you. You only think of yourself. You only care about you. You’re the one with the fucking heart of stone.” You didn’t bother to wipe the tears off of your face as you stormed away. He didn’t follow you.

Loki, you had learned, was the only person able to make you cry.

In the following week, everyone avoided you. That was fine. You didn’t want to fucking see anyone. You had reverted to your pre-Loki persona. No emotions. Turns out your mother was right for once. Emotion is weakness.

Your days were spent alone in your room. Plans to track down and dismantle the Red Sapphire spread over every surface. You spent your nights in the gym. Crystals clenched in your unwrapped hands as you pummeled the punching bags. Don’t show pain.

“I’m leaving,” you announced to the almost empty kitchen. Steve and Tony looked at you, their first acknowledgement of you in a week. “I’m taking one of your cars. Don’t try to stop me.”

“We can’t let you leave. You’re a danger,” Steve said the same time Tony said,

“At least tell me what your mother did.”

You looked at Tony, ignoring Steve’s comment. You took a deep breath and told your story, to the surprise of both men. You told them about the discovery of your powers. You told them about your mother’s greed in wanting more. More from you. More powered individuals to serve her. You told them how you walked past dead bodies every day. You told them how your mother hurt you when you broke your stone facade. When you trained. When you failed. You told them how your father blamed you for your mother’s actions. How he wasted away drowning in alcohol. You told them about your mother framing your father.

“I’m going to destroy the organization she worked with.”

“There’s no way to prevent you from killing them,” Steve sighed.

“No, there’s not.”

“How about you don’t die, huh?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, that’s a pretty big priority,” you said and Tony pulled you into a hug. You closed your eyes and savored the moment until you forced yourself to pull away. “Goodbye.”

You retrieved your duffle bag and backpack from your room. The whole elevator ride down to the garage, you fiddled with the car keys. One day you would regret not saying goodbye. You stepped out of the elevator but you were quickly stopped in your tracks by Loki standing in front of the car you were taking.

“I heard you were leaving.”

“Yeah.” You refused to look at the god and loaded your bags into the car.

“I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry. You don’t have to forgive me—”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Damn, he was blocking the driver’s door.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t understand you. I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain. Just let me do one thing. Let me come with you. Please, I want to help you.”

“You’re in my fucking way.”

“Look at me, please.” You obliged. “I want to come with you. I will follow you anywhere.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he cautiously placed a hand on your cheek and you unconsciously leaned into his touch. “Because I love you.”

Fuck, your eyes were misting again. “I-I might go to some dark places.”

“I will follow you anywhere,” he repeated.

“Okay,” you whispered. “You can come.” Loki’s beautiful eyes lit up and went to go to the passenger side. “Wait, Loki.”

You walked over to him and kissed him. You kissed him like you were never going to kiss him again. You kissed him like you hadn’t kissed him in a week, because you hadn’t. You kissed him with everything you had.

“I love you too.”

A/N: I had to put that small Umbrella Academy reference in there, I just binged season 2.

#heart of stone #loki x reader #loki #mcu #marvel #avengers #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #sam wilson #the falcon #loki x you #loki x y/n #natasha romanoff #black widow #challenge #the sad hatter

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figurctives · 4 years ago

Text

henri was fifteen when she realized theodore was her future.

or more like, when she realized she didn’t have another option. the first time she had a crush on a boy it happened fast. she’d met him at her summer hagwon. he was smart and kind and always saved for henri next to him. it took weeks for her to gather up the courage to ask him out; she wanted him to be her date for a charity event her mother was hosting. it would be her first time doing so, going with a boy. but it wouldn’t be the boy from her hagwon. her mother denied her of that immediately, like it wasn’t even worth considering. oh, no, henrietta. you’ll go with theodore instead, how about that?

the idea had seemed outlandish at first. theodore, the boy who teased her and laughed when she cried and got her in trouble. she wanted nothing to do with him, only dealt with his shenanigans because he was always around. looking back, she wants to ask her mother, don’t you think we were too young? but she hadn’t thought that back then, she hadn’t even realized yet. not until the first time turned into the second time and the third turned into the fifth. instead she’d asked her mother, why theo? there’s a boy at my hagwon i really like, why do i have to go with theo?

her mother had brushed her fringe from her face and said, because you and theodore look so lovely together. i’m sure you’ll make him very happy. there had been no more room for arguing after that. it was settled. for almost every formal event or gala or dinner henri attended for the next five years of her life, theo was her date and vice versa. he never even asked her to be his girlfriend, but somewhere along the way they fell together. started holding hands even when they didn’t have to, going places that were more than just the events they were expected to show up to. movies, dinner, each other’s houses and dorm rooms.

it was easy to go along with. when theo kissed her for the first time in spring four years ago, on the sidewalk in seoul under the cherry blossoms, when their classmates teased them and said, you guys are such a cute couple, and theo didn’t deny it. just laid his arm across henri’s shoulders and smirked. henri had blinked, realization dawning over her and said, thank you, because it was easy to go along with. until it wasn’t.

until theo’s kindness and his interest ran full circle. until henri stopped knowing how to make him laugh or smile or pay attention to her. until she realized she would only be allotted into his life based on convenience and appearances. you’re so naive, henrietta, he’d say. because he gave it up first. the idea of them together, actually together. the hope that their future would be more than cold business arrangements and familial expectations, he never held on to that very tightly. not the way that henri did, for so long.

but finally, she was starting to let go of it, too.

––––

“one week suspension,” theo sneers, tossing his phone across the room. it crashes into the wall and makes henri jump. “that’s all this incompetent staff is capable of.”

“hold still,” henri says, fingers under his chin, tilting his face towards her with one hand and a damp cloth in the other. she stands between his legs in his room, at the edge of his bed, cleaning the dried blood from his bandaged nose. he’s been at it since that afternoon two days ago, face red even after the blood was cleaned from his skin. he’s done, he’d said as the nurses flitted around him in the infirmary. he’s finished.

he looks a little ridiculous now, his swollen skin a watercolor canvas of bruises, his nose stint ugly and silver.

"they’re a bunch of greedy cowards,” he goes on. “as if leonard park’s hush money is enough to allow his vermin son to continue tarnishing st. agathe’s. he should be expelled. his younger siblings, too, they’re all nothing but bad news.”

silence settles as henri removes the bloodied gauze from theo’s nose, his anger simmering. she does her best to hide her relief. only a suspension, and not the permanent removal theo is fighting so hard for. the thought had scared her at first, that sinclair might be sent away and not allowed to return. would these feelings still exist inside of her if that were the case? would the sound of his name stop making her heart stutter if he was no longer around? would her life go back to normal, then?

she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, hasn’t been able to stop trying to figure out how it all fell apart before they were even able to learn how they fit together. i’m probably the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to you. her fingers pause where they’re wrapping a strip of gauze around itself, as the words play over in her head. as she thinks of how sinclair’s shaking hand had felt in hers as she bandaged his bruised knuckles and he told her his secrets.

“he’s really not that bad,” she says, quietly, as she pushes the clean gauze gently back into theo’s nose. he hisses, pulls away to look at her, offended.

“you’re defending him?”

“no,” she assures. her hand finds the back of his neck and she pulls him close again to remove the blood and bandages from the other side. “but i think it’s important to take into consideration that calvin is his best friend, and they aren’t on good terms. if calvin is really... if he and sinclair never get the chance to work things out, it would be really devastating for him.”

henri can’t get that out of her head, either. that look in sinclair’s eyes. that desperate need for answers, the fear that theo’s words might be true. but then she thinks about the way theo’s face had sounded under his fist, and she pushes it all aside. when theo grimaces up at her and says, you’re too naive, henrietta, she can’t help but to agree.

––––

the week of sinclair’s absence is relatively uneventful, with the school year finally approaching its end and finals just around the corner. with both calvin and sinclair gone, campus has grown quiet.

this time last year, there had been a list of secret parties going around, all leading up to their final day, making the last weeks before summer exciting rather than stressful. but now, it feels inappropriate. the same way st. agathe’s had gone dark in the weeks following valentina’s demise, they’re all paying their premature respects to calvin. there’s been no sign of him. no ransom letter like the police thought, no clues as to where he could have gone. nothing. people were starting to lose hope.

but for all the parties that aren’t happening, henri still finds herself invited to one. halfway through the week, an unexpected face stops henri at the library’s front desk. as she hands over her book to be checked out, a body leans against the counter beside her.

“hey,” luna says, friendly smile a little awkward. “listen, my birthday is coming up, and i know this is kind of out of the blue, but i’m celebrating this weekend, and i wanted to invite you.”

“oh,” henri says, blinking away her confusion. she can count on a single hand the conversations she’s had with luna, and she’d still have fingers left over. she has no idea why luna would want to invite her to her birthday celebrations. “i don’t, um... i don’t think-”

“i know it’s sudden,” luna interjects. she chews at her lower lip in contemplation for a beat, before she sighs, shoulders sagging. “but here’s the thing: simon is always making fun of me for not having any friends, so when i said i wanted to celebrate, it was kind of too embarrassing to admit that he was right, so i told him to plan something and that i’d bring people, but i don’t have a lot people i can ask, so. will you come?” she clasps her fingers together. “for the sake of my pride, please?”

there is a glaring list of pros and cons that immediately presents themselves to henri, but with luna standing right here, staring henri down and holding up the line, she knows that that list doesn’t matter: she can’t say no. her lips press into a tight smile, and she nods. “sure. i’d, uh... i’d love to.”

really, she’d rather do anything but. because the first con on her list is enough to wash away any of the pros. sinclair is without a doubt, one hundred percent, going to be there. and as luna tells her the time and place, disappearing before henri can change her mind, a sense of dread begins to bundle in her gut.

but she finds herself outside of the riot house at the end of the week, anyways, knocking on the front door as the sun begins to settle low in the sky. she very pointedly does not think about the last time she’d been in this position, snow sparkling beneath the sun instead of a green, carefully manicured lawn. when the door swings open, her heart catches in her throat. she doesn’t know why she came here.

simon stands on the other side of the threshold, a ridiculous party hat on his head, the elastic strap pressing into the skin beneath his chin.

“you came!” he rejoices, ushering her inside. “i didn’t believe luna when she said people actually accepted her invitations. you can be honest, she paid you to come, didn’t she?”

“hey!” luna scolds, as henri and simon emerge from the entryway into the kitchen. to henri’s absolute surprise, leaning against the island in the middle of the room, is professor kwon. he smiles at her, and nods his head in greeting. luna continues to defend herself, like none of this is even the least bit odd. “i didn’t bribe anyone. everyone i invited said they would come, and they did.”

“so, this is it? this is your party?” simon asks, like he can’t help but be disappointed. “two people?”

“of course not,” luna says, emphasizing the final t. “i invited archie as well.”

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jensengirl83 · 5 years ago

Text

What Happens In A Small Town

Jensen x reader

Word Count-2541

Warnings- Angst, heartbreak, fluff

Summary- Jensen and Y/n were the perfect couple in high school until he leaves her to pursue acting. What will happen when he decides to move back home years later.

A/N- Somewhat of an AU as I have Jensen growing up in a small Texas town. Flashback in bold italics

Thank you to @emoryhemsworth for helping me once again and giving me the idea to write!

Based on the song What Happens In A Small Town-Brantley Gilbert

They both grew up in the same small town in Texas. Jensen and Y/n were the high school power couple. They had been together since their eighth-grade year. Him the captain of the baseball team, and her the captain of her basketball team. The prom king and queen both their junior and senior years. You could always find them in the bleachers at every football game, and every game they played cheering the other on. Everyone knew they were one of those high school couples that would last forever. That was until Jensen left for L.A. to pursue acting, leaving her behind, completely shattering her heart.

The breakup was front page news, one of the draw backs of living in a small town. Jensen was out in California pursuing his dream, living his life, while she was here. Y/n having to live in the disaster he left in his wake. The looks of pity, the questions, the whispers as she walked by. She had told herself she would never forgive him for it. She had loved him with all she had. They were planning to go to college together. They had everything planned out until he came to her one night to break the news.

It was a few weeks after their senior prom. They were riding in Jensen’s car down the country back roads. The windows open, music blaring, her bare feet on the dashboard, not a care in the world. They were so happy. He was taking her to one of their favorite places. The swimming pond that they had found last year in part of the woods no one ever went to. They had made so many memories there. Nights laying on a blanket looking at the stars, talking about their future. It was also the place where they had made love to each other for the first time. Jensen had once told her they would get married and build a house there one day. All that changed in one night.

They were laying in their spot looking at the stars once again. The two of them curled up together in a comfortable silence.

“Y/n can I talk to you about something?” Jensen asks breaking the silence.

“Sure J. What is it?” Y/n turns to look up at him. His face looking more serious than she had seen him in a long time.

“I’ve made a decision and I want you to be the first to know. I’m not going to college Y/n. I want to pursue acting. I have been thinking about it for a while.” Y/n is frozen. He is going to leave her.

“Jensen, have you really thought this through? You know I can’t go with you.” The tears are brimming in her eyes. She has obligations here and just can’t leave.

“Yes, I have darlin’. Once I get settled, I will come back for you.” He can’t look at her. He can hear the tears in her voice.

“What if I don’t want to live in L.A. J? That is not the kind of life I want.” She still can’t believe he sprung this on her, and this close to them graduating and leaving for college.

“I’m sorry Y/n. I am not changing my mind.” He has made up his mind and is going with or without her.

“I never asked you to change your mind Jensen, I was telling you I am not going with you.” Did he ever love her if he is so willing to leave what they have behind? “Take me home.”

Y/n does not give him a chance to answer. She stands and walks back to his car without saying a word. She knew it was over. There was nothing left to say. He took her home that night in silence. It was over, what they had for over four years was gone in a matter of minutes. They went on to graduate, Jensen leaving for L.A. and her staying behind and going on to college. That night was the last words they had spoken to each other.

It had been 8 years since Jensen had left to try and make it in Hollywood. He had been successful having been on a daytime soap opera and many tv shows. He had just landed another tv show but he was one of the leads this time. Filming nine months a year with summer and weekends off. That making the decision to move back home even easier. He enjoyed acting but would always be a Texan at heart. He had bought a house back in his hometown and was getting everything moved in. Looking through his big house, being a successful actor, being home, he should be the happiest man on earth. There is something missing and he knows what it is. Her. Y/n had never left his heart or his thoughts since he has been gone. He had almost given up and came home so many times. Maybe now he can find her. He does not expect to rekindle what they had, it would be nice, but he would like to have her back in his life as a friend at least.

Y/n was sitting at the local bar, enjoying a drink. She had gotten her business degree in preparations to take over her grandparents’ business. No one knowing that the year she graduated college, the business would burn to the ground, the insurance money not enough to rebuild. That was four years ago, and the thought still angers and upsets her. The fact that she had planned her life around it and let Jensen walk away to stay back to have it all yanked out from under her. She had tried moving on from him and dated a few guys. Nothing ever working out because they could never compare to him. She had tried so many times not to compare apples to oranges, but she just could not stop. No one had ever made her feel they way Jensen had. The chime above the door bringing her out of her pity party.

She turns to look at the door, a natural reaction for everyone, and there he was. He had aged but she would recognize that face for the rest of her life. His eyes still the brightest and most beautiful green she had ever seen. Jensen Ackles had just walked into their hometown bar. She feels like her heart has stopped beating, from both fear and the feelings she still harbored for this man. He is seated at the other end of the bar. If she goes now, she can get out without him seeing her. She throws cash down on the bar for her drink and runs for the door, going through and straight to her car. Once in the safety of her car, she breaks down. She never thought she would ever see him again.

Jensen looks up as someone goes out the door of the bar in a hurry. He blinks thinking his eyes are playing tricks on him. The woman looked just like Y/n. Could he have been lucky enough to run into her this soon? He jumps off his stool and runs out trying to catch her. Once he is in the parking lot, he sees her, tears staining her cheeks. She was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he had been in L.A. where all the beautiful people were. No one had ever been as beautiful as her in his eyes. Seeing her in her car, the tears flowing, makes his chest feel heavy. He has never wanted to see her hurt. He makes his way over and knocks on her window. Her big /y/e/c eyes looking at him in surprise. She hesitantly rolls her window down.

“Hey darlin’.” He says with that Texan drawl he can’t seem to get rid of.

“Jensen please, I can’t do this right now.” Her voice is so small, the emotions making it break.

“Can’t do what Y/n?” He knows he does not want to hear what she is going to say.

“This Jensen.” She waves her hand between them. “I can’t be around you right now.”

She throws her car into reverse and pulls out before he can say another word. Watching her drive away hurts almost as it did leaving her in front of her house all those years ago. The emotions rushing through him makes him feel like he cannot breathe. He knew he still cared for her, but seeing her today, made him realize something he had buried deep down. He was still in love with her. He forgets about having a drink and gets in his car, he needs to clear his head. Leaving the bar to drive down the back roads he still knows so well, he cannot get her face out of his mind. Those beautiful eyes should have never had to cry a single tear over him. The fact that she is still that upset over their breakup makes him feel so much worse. He does not regret his acting career. He regrets how he got there. She was his world and never wanted to hurt her.

Y/n is sitting on her couch, tears still flowing, the picture of her and Jensen from their senior prom in her hands. She had thought about packing and moving on her drive home, but she can’t run from her past, and this is her town too. She is just going to have to figure out to share it with him. It will not be easy, but she must try and move on. There is no way that he does not have a life with someone by now. She is twenty-six years old; it is time to move on with her life. Putting away their picture, she decides to go for a drive. It always helps to clear her mind.

Jensen stopped at the general store in town. He needed to pick up a few things and get something to drink. His emotions and the thoughts of his past regrets making his mouth dry. As he is walking around gathering what he needs, he feels eyes on him. Everyone looking right at him. Looks of astonishment on some and looks of disgust on others. Of course, there would still be people that would judge him for leaving her behind. Her face stained with her tears flashing in his mind once again. He has to get out of here, not wanting to give the onlookers the satisfaction of seeing him breakdown. After he pays for his things he gets back in his car and on the road, driving to no particular destination. His mind still stuck on thoughts of her. Has she moved on or stuck like him? He looks up to see he is on the same road they used to drive. Every back road they’d ever gone down, the Friday night bleachers, there isn’t a county line mile that doesn’t have a memory of her. Everybody knows why he’s here, and she isn’t around, because what happens in a small town, stays in a small town. His memories take him straight to where he did not want to go, their pond.

Y/n is in her car, driving down the road to where she needs to go. She has not been back since that last night they were there together. She needs to go back, make her peace with her heartbreak, so she can move on. Her windows are down, music blaring, bringing a sad smile to her face. It was the same as that night so long ago. As she makes her way to their spot, she cannot get his face from her mind. How can she still be so in love with a man she hasn’t seen in eight years? She makes her way around that last line of trees before the pond comes into sight. There is a car parked there. Has someone finally claimed their old place as their own? She parks and gets out to walk over and see who is there. As she makes her way to the edge of the pond, someone turns to look at her. Those green eyes locking with hers.

“Y/n?” Jensen is in shock but hopeful. He is praying she does not run away this time.

“Jensen…..” She sighs hanging her head. “Why can’t I get away from you?” Her words cutting him to the bone.

“Maybe it is a sign that you shouldn’t?” He tries to make his voice sound light but being this close to her is torture. He wants to walk up and wrap her in his arms. Never letting go of her again.

“J, I am sure you have a girlfriend waiting on you somewhere. This is not a good idea.” She throws her hands up in frustration. The urge to run right in his arms growing stronger every second.

Jensen walks up to her and pulls her into a hug against his better judgement. He could not resist her any longer, the need to feel her body against his again too much. Her body tenses but she does not pull away. His strong arms, his scent, the heat of his body pressed against her flooding her senses. She wraps her arms around his waist, the two of them standing there in each other’s arms for what seemed like hours. Neither saying a word, that comfortable silence they used to have back once more. Jensen finally breaks the silence with words she has missed for way too long.

“I need you Y/n. I am sorry I hurt you and regret it with every breath I take. I still love you darlin’. I lost my heart to you in this very spot and it is still here. I know with me acting it will be tricky, but we can make it work baby. Please say you will have me again.” Jensen’s voice is cracking with the emotions pouring out of him. He can’t let her go again.

“Jensen, I need you too. I swore I would never forgive you, but I did a long time ago. I left my heart here with you that night J. I have never stopped loving you, never stopped wanting you.”

Jensen cups her face in his hands, crashing his lips to hers. It was like they had never been apart. Their lips still feeling so familiar, moving in sync like they were made just for kissing each other. Her body fitting to his as perfect as it used to. The spark that was always there still feeling like electricity coursing its way through them. They break the kiss but remain glued to each other, him laying his forehead against hers. He reaches to place her hand over his heart.

“You are still right here.” He smiles as she kisses the tip of his nose. A sign of affection she always showed him.

“You are still right here too J.” She says as she places his hand against her chest. Jensen picks her up and she wraps her legs around his waist, the two of them giggling with laughter, happier than either had been in the last eight years.

Tags: @flamencodiva @sorenmarie87 @foxyjwls007 @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @voltage-my2dlove @hardcoresupernatural @marvelouslysherlockedhunter @lyarr24

#jensen ackles #jensen x reader #rpf fanfic #angst #heartbreak #fluff #supernatural fanfiction #spn family

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hellofromthe-otter-slide · 4 years ago

Text

everything stays (but it still changes)

*Shows up to the party four months late with Starbucks* Hello, She-Ra fandom. Is anyone still here?

Alright, now that I got my joke out of the way, I can get into it. I wrote this fic based on artwork that I saw from @alexryzhy. They drew a wonderful picture about Catra and her need to be strong, and I couldn’t help myself. You can find their artwork here.

As well, I need to thank my friend @icameasahoplite for reading through this fic and telling me it isn’t shit! They’re wonderful, and an excellent writer and I love them very much.

Alright, I think that’s everything. Enjoy the fic!

Read on AO3.

Catra trails after Adora, Bow, and Glimmer, the three of them talking as they make their way through the Crystal Castle. She’s not exactly sure why they’re here or what they need, but Adora seemed so sure, and Catra refused to let her come back to this place on her own.

Adora, Bow, and Glimmer don’t seem to be affected by the dead panels and muted colors of the castle, but everything about it has Catra’s tail puffed and her hair standing on end.

As a rule, she doesn’t like this place. When Catra was still with the Horde, it represented the Rebellion and everyone who took Adora away from her, and the castle almost mocked her as it showed her snippets of her and Adora’s childhood to tear them apart. After, after Catra fought against mind control and helped the people she swore she never would, Catra almost lost Adora deep within the walls of the Crystal Castle.

She wonders for just a moment if the castle will spring back to life, every muted panel snapping to attention as Adora passes through, but even with the presence of She-Ra, the castle stays dark.

They pass by the AI that guards the entrance to the Heart, and she flickers as she says, “State your query.”

Glimmer sticks her tongue out at it, and Bow admonishes her, reaching across Adora to gently hit Glimmer’s shoulder with a stern, “We do not antagonize innocent AIs, Glimmer,” Adora hiding a laugh behind her hand.

Catra pauses for one moment, looking up at the AI, and she feels a chill run up her spine.

Her and Shadow Weaver didn’t interact with the hologram. Shadow Weaver’s magic got them as close to Adora as it possibly could, but she still feels a flood of memories at the sight of the panel that she knows leads through a long corridor to the Heart.

She shakes her head to try and expel the memories taking root as she catches up to the others, but it doesn’t work. She can’t stop the onslaught.

All she can think about is the last time she was here, watching Shadow Weaver burn, readying herself to die as Horde Prime flooded the Heart with corruption, holding Adora to her chest and begging her to stay, for once just stay.

Catra’s hand goes to the back of her neck, an old habit, and she fights against the surge of memories of green liquid and electricity and a hold on her mind that was never supposed to be there. She feels her claws sink in, not quite breaking skin but enough that it reminds her that the chip isn’t there anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time.

Bow’s voice interrupts the memories, his hands going up around him as he mimics an explosion, some overdramatisation of his and Sea Hawk’s last Boys’ Night, and Glimmer is quick to comment that Sea Hawk is lucky that Mermista tolerates him with the amount of money Sealineas probably spends on new ships, and Catra can see her winding up to make a dirty joke before Bow launches himself across Adora to clamp a hand over Glimmer’s mouth.

Adora is knocked back, laughing as Bow’s cheeks flush so dark that Catra is convinced every drop of blood rushed to his face. She’s still laughing as she looks over her shoulder to Catra like she couldn’t imagine a moment like this without including Catra in it, but her eyebrows pull together when she realizes how far back Catra has fallen from the group.

She stops, letting Bow and Glimmer pull ahead, and tilts her head with a soft smile that Catra has loved since they were kids.

“You coming?” Adora asks, offering her hand to Catra.

Just as Catra is about to take it, the floor opens up underneath her, and Catra falls through, her claws scraping against panels as she tries to catch herself. She hears Adora shout her name, but it fades the further she falls.

She lands on her back in a pitch-black room, no beginning or end in sight, and Catra is reminded of her first time in the ruins. She wonders if the castle is even alive enough to dig into her memories and play them for her.

She knows it did for Adora, but Adora is She-Ra. She has a connection to this place and the people who built it.

Catra is just Catra. She’s no mythical warrior princess or First One, so she expects that she’ll just be trapped here until the rest of the Best Friend Squad can find her.

The darkness doesn’t seem to let up, so Catra pulls herself up and tries to see if there’s any sign of a door.

“Adora!” she calls, hoping that maybe her girlfriend already found where the castle sent her, but she didn’t get any response.

“Adora!” she tries again, and again, there’s nothing.

There’s a soft glow forming at the horizon of the room, and Catra wonders if she should go towards it.

She figures it’s her only option.

As Catra gets closer, she notices the room glitching, and she’s afraid the floor is going to open up again, but then she sees it.

Amongst the black is one of the bunkbeds from the barracks Catra and Adora grew up in. There’s something small curled up on the bottom bunk, and Catra knows who it is even before a young Adora comes in and pulls the blankets from around young Catra’s wild mane.

It’s the same memory that the Crystal Castle showed Catra the first time she was here, the same one that strengthened her resolve to stop trying to get Adora to come back and to cut the only thing keeping Adora from falling into the abyss the castle created.

Just like last time, the younger version of herself stops and stares up at Catra, and this time, Catra smiles.

“Adora will hold onto that promise,” Catra tells her younger self, “And she’ll always come back for you, no matter what.”

Little Catra doesn’t respond. She just smiles and runs off to follow Adora into the black of the room.

It must be picking up on Adora’s memories, Catra thinks, looking around for the light she seems to have lost.

There’s a crash behind her, and Catra turns, claws coming up ready for a fight, but they fall to her side when she sees what caused the noise.

There are a few crates used to hold armor and weapons, and beside them, a young Catra flopped on top of a young Adora. She can see the scratches across Adora’s cheek, and she winces when Catra gets up and jumps on Adora’s stomach.

They run past her giggling and laughing, pulling at each other and play-wrestling.

Instead of running off into the pale green corridors of the Fright Zone, they disappear into the darkness, and Catra is left on her own again.

“Why is it playing these memories?” Catra wonders aloud.

Nothing answers her.

“And why can’t I get out of here?” Catra yells, frustration starting to build.

She listens for something, anything, that will point her to an exit or Adora, Bow, and Glimmer coming to her rescue, but the room is eerily quiet.

“Why did this even happen?” Catra asks the room, knowing she isn’t going to get an answer, but it’s the only way she can think to dim the anger building, “Do you just like fucking with me?”

Catra’s starting to wish she didn’t leave Melog back at Bright Moon, because not only could she really use them to find her way out of here, she misses the calming presence Melog always seem to carry with them.

Melog would tell her to take deep breaths and find something in the room to focus on, but Catra is the only one here and the only thing making any noise.

I sure hope Melog is having fun with Scorpia and Perfuma, Catra thinks, crossing her arms and tapping her shoe against the dead panels impatiently, because this is the last time I’m going out on a mission without them.

She flops onto her back and looks up at what she assumes is the ceiling, but with the Crystal Castle, she can never be sure. Everything about this place is so outside of the realm of normal that Catra wonders if she’s actually just suspended in midair.

The memories seem to play out on the same plane she’s on, though, and whatever is underneath her feels solid enough to be a floor.

The black ceiling reminds her of the night sky in Etheria before they were pulled from Despondos, and Catra wonders if she can manifest the stars if she thinks about them hard enough.

She thinks of the first time she saw the stars their first night back on Etheria. She remembers sneaking out of their hideout and looking up, expecting the same blank sky she had looked up at for years, and instead finding a million little dots of light.

She had seen stars from Horde Prime’s ship while she watched the planets he conquered go up in flames, but seeing them like this, on her home planet after being gone for so long, it felt different.

It was that same feeling of watching Adora become She-Ra on Mara’s ship, the light engulfing her and magic making her blue eyes shine. Catra isn’t exactly sure what the feeling is, and she can’t put a name to it, but it was something like hope and awe mixed together.

Thinking of the memory doesn’t seem to manifest it, and that just strengthens Catra’s theory that the castle is projecting Adora’s memories, not hers.

Every memory she’s seen so far can be attributed to Adora’s presence within the castle, and she’s sure that the first memory was just some data remnants from her first time here.

That last memory, though, Catra isn’t sure that that one holds as much significance for Adora as it does for her.

For Catra, that memory was the tipping point. Adora’s promise that she would always be Catra’s friend gave her the push she needed to save Glimmer and keep Adora from getting captured.

She was willing to die on Horde Prime’s ship in order to keep Adora safe. She didn’t expect to be saved, and yet, Adora came back for her.

Adora risked everything for Catra.

She hears whispering, and when she turns her head, she sees her and Adora lying down a few feet away from her, Adora pointing up at nothing.

It’s a few nights after the defeat of Horde Prime. Catra remembers Adora pulling her from their comfy bed in Bright Moon with a, “It’ll be worth it, Catra. I promise.” She led Catra through the quiet, pristine corridors and out to the gardens, and when they laid down on the soft grass, Adora pulled her close and taught her the First Ones’ constellations.

Glimmer found them early the next morning, curled up and fast asleep under the dim morning glow.

Catra sits up and watches the two. Adora’s hair is up in what was her usual ponytail at the time, and she’s pointing up at a sky that Catra can’t see. The younger version of herself, her hair still so short after Horde Prime cut it, hums along, but she’s not looking up at the sky. She’s looking at Adora, a soft smile on her lips.

Adora seems to notice that Catra isn’t listening, because she stops mid-sentence and turns to see Catra watching her.

“Catra,” Adora says through a laugh, “Are you even paying attention?”

Catra knows what’s coming before her younger self even says it. The younger Catra looks at Adora, everything about her so soft, and with every emotion she convinced herself would never be reciprocated, she says, “I love you, Adora.”

It was only the second time Catra ever said it, the first time without Adora dying in her arms, and Adora’s eyes go wide, but she recovers quickly, her fingers going into Catra’s hair and pulling her into a kiss.

Catra watches herself sink into it, her hand resting on Adora’s stomach.

“I love you too, Catra,” Adora whispers, resting her forehead against Catra’s.

They fade into the darkness, and Catra stands, moving further into the room.

So far, that hasn’t gotten her anywhere, but she can’t just sit here and do nothing. She’s hoping that the Crystal Castle might take pity on her and a door will magically appear, but she just keeps walking and walking without running into anything.

“Adora!” she tries again, looking around herself, “Adora!”

Nothing.

“Sparkles!” Catra calls out, “Bow!”

Complete silence.

“This is useless,” Catra growls, “I should just face the facts. I’m trapped here forever. They’re going to find my body centuries from now in this awful place.”

“Catra.”

She turns quickly at the sound of Adora’s voice, but it’s not Adora, not really.

This Adora catches herself on the ground, the old Sword of Protection holding her up, and she’s bruised and beaten from the fight.

She looks up at Catra with sadness and regret, and Catra turns around to see herself, betrayal written so obviously across her features.

Adora fades when Catra turns to run away from the destruction of Thaymor, and Catra follows the younger version of herself.

She interacted with the Catra from the first memory, and when Adora and her were here all those years ago, they glitched between themselves and the version of themselves in the memories, so Catra chases until her younger self stops, falling to her knees and tearing into the ground.

Catra remembers every second of this. She remembers the heartbreak and sadness and anger of watching Adora leave her, the way it felt like Adora had reached into her chest and ripped her heart in half.

“She didn’t leave you,” Catra says gently, and the younger version of herself freezes, “Not really.”

Catra doesn’t expect the memory to respond, but her younger self, hair wild and eyes filled with tears, says, “I wasn’t enough to make her stay.”

“The Horde was a toxic place,” Catra responds, “It tried killing every good part of you, and eventually, it would’ve done that to Adora too.”

“She chose them over me,” younger Catra hisses, “I’m her best friend, and they’re just some princesses who kidnapped her.”

“I know it hurts,” Catra crouches down so that they’re at the same height, “It’ll hurt for a really long time, but even when you’re at your lowest, when you think you don’t deserve to be saved, Adora will choose you, and she will keep choosing you.”

Catra knows this is pointless. She knows that talking to this version of herself won’t change anything, but it feels cathartic to tell herself everything she wished someone had told her.

Perfuma would probably refer to it as Catra getting closure, and maybe she’s right, but Catra also knows there’s something deeper to it, the healthier parts of herself that she’s spent years nurturing finally finding an outlet.

This Catra, right on the precipice of every awful thing she’ll do to get back at Adora, she’s still so scared and lonely. The only important thing to her was Adora and keeping Adora safe, and when Adora left, Catra took that as Adora telling her that she wasn’t good enough, so she climbed the ranks and fought ruthlessly to prove she was.

“Shadow Weaver would’ve torn us apart eventually,” Catra says, “Adora would’ve gone on to be Hordak’s second-in-command, and even though she would insist on bringing you with her, Shadow Weaver would’ve never allowed it. We would’ve been completely broken with no way to fix ourselves. You would’ve lost her for good.”

A few tears track through short fur, and her younger self brushes them away with the heel of her hand, the action harsh and angry.

“Everything after this moment gets messy, and we do some horrible things as a way of coping, but we’ll find ourselves again,” Catra says, smiling sadly, “We’ll have a lot of apologizing to do, and a lot of broken relationships to try and fix, but we’ll get better. We’ll be better.”

With that, the memory fades, and Catra is alone again, but the growing frustration at the Crystal Castle’s antics settles just a bit.

So, Catra thinks, It has to be pulling from my memories. There’s no way Adora knew what happened when I disappeared in the smoke after Thaymor.

Catra isn’t sure how the castle is pulling her memories, though. She didn’t think the Crystal Castle would maintain that ability years after Adora broke the sword and released Light Hope from the First Ones’ programming.

Then again, Catra pulls herself up and runs her hands over her pants to smooth out any wrinkles, The programming was still strong enough that Prime could manipulate it into believing Adora was a threat.

She turns, and, like spotlights on a stage, three memories play out before her.

The first is the Battle of Bright Moon, Catra facing off against She-Ra among the cliffs and in the shallow water outside the castle. The memory captures the moment just as Catra drags her claws down She-Ra’s back.

The second is Catra and Adora is Hordak’s sanctum, Catra with her hand on the lever that opened the portal. She can’t hear Adora begging her to stop, but that memory is one of many that’s permanently seared into Catra’s brain forever.

With a chilling smile, Catra pulls the lever.

The third memory is Catra right after Double Trouble left her in the burning debris of her fight with Hordak. She looks defeated and angry, and she knows that this is only moments before Glimmer finds her.

When Glimmer pointed her staff at Catra, Catra told her to do it, to end it.

She thought she was at her strongest in that moment, but she knew, even then, all of this power and destruction was never what she wanted.

Catra walks past the first two memories and looks down at herself, her clothes singed and her hair pushing past the mask she used to wear.

“I thought I could be strong,” this version of Catra says, her voice low and defeated, “But everyone was right. I’m weak, and I always will be.”

“No,” Catra says, determined, “You are not weak. You were always strong, and you will get stronger.”

“All I ever do is mess up,” her younger self, her lowest point, doesn’t meet her eyes, “And everyone always leaves.”

“You made mistakes,” Catra admits, “And some of those mistakes led to people leaving, but it’s what was best for them and best for you.”

The tattered version of herself looks up at her in disbelief.

Catra smiles.

“You are so loved,” Catra says, and she’s unsure if she’s saying it to the memory or to herself, “And at this moment, you never learned how to be loved by anyone unconditionally, but you will. You’ll learn how to let people in and be there for them in return, and that love will make you stronger than you can ever imagine.”

The memory fades, and Catra takes a deep breath.

This entire thing, from the floor opening up beneath her to all of the memories that the Crystal Castle has shown her, has been unnerving, but Catra feels lighter than she has in a while.

Off in the distance, Catra sees a light, and she chooses not to go towards it.

If it’s Adora, Bow, and Glimmer, they’ll find her without any problem.

If it’s another memory, Catra has had enough reliving to last her a lifetime.

She turns from the light for just a moment, and the castle gives her one last memory.

It’s their first kiss, Adora glowing as she becomes She-Ra. They pull away, and Adora smiles the dopiest smile Catra has ever seen before whispering out a soft, “Wow,” through her giggles.

Catra remembers marveling at the fact that Adora could be She-Ra, powerful and strong enough to take down Horde Prime when no one else could, and still be the idiot she fell in love with.

“Don’t ruin it,” younger Catra deadpans, gently shoving at Adora’s face.

“Catra!”

When she turns around, it’s Adora, her Adora, that’s running towards her, Bow and Glimmer not far behind.

Adora pulls her into a tight hug, and Catra’s hands fist into Adora’s jacket so tight she’s sure her claws are cutting through fabric.

“I was so worried,” Adora says quickly as Bow and Glimmer join the hug, “I didn’t even know where to start looking.”

“How did you find me then?”

“Teleporting, mostly,” Glimmer answers, and Catra looks at Bow to see him rolling his eyes.

“Which was incredibly ineffective,” Bow adds on, “But nobody listened to me when I said we should find another way.”

“Well, we found her eventually,” Glimmer argues.

“Because a random door popped up and Adora heard Catra through it.”

“Okay!” Catra shoves Bow and Glimmer away from her and Adora, “As fun as it is listening to you two bicker, can we please get out of here? I’ve been trapped in a pitch-black room for too long and I want to be anywhere but here.”

Glimmer gives Catra a look that Catra definitely doesn’t like before pulling everyone closer to her and teleporting them out of the Crystal Castle.

Catra collapses onto the grass, holding in dry heaves, and she can feel Adora’s gentle hand on her back.

Glimmer is barely holding in her laughter, and Catra looks up with a glare before pouncing, taking Glimmer down easily, but Glimmer is quick to retaliate, pushing a fist full of sparkles right into Catra’s face.

“Guys,” Catra can hear Bow’s exasperation in his voice, “Can you maybe not do that?”

“She started it,” Catra argues, turning her head over her shoulder to make her point, and Glimmer uses that to push Catra off of her.

“It’s been years,” Glimmer gets up, brushing dirt and grass off of her clothes, “I don’t understand how you haven’t gotten used to teleporting.”

Catra goes to get up, and Adora offers her a hand.

She takes it, letting Adora pull her up, and Adora doesn’t let go, so Catra brushes herself off with her one free hand.

“I’ve asked for warning about a million times,” Catra hisses at Glimmer, “You’re the one who insists on doing that just to mess with me.”

“Well yeah,” Glimmer goes and grabs Bow’s hand, pulling him into the Whispering Woods, “It’s just so fun.”

Catra lets out an angry growl, and just as she pulls on Adora’s hand to follow Bow and Glimmer, Adora pulls her back, pulling her in close. The hand that isn’t holding Catra’s comes up to Catra’s cheek, and Catra rests hers on Adora’s waist.

“I’m going to murder your friends,” Catra says, but it doesn’t have any of the bite she usually says it with.

“They’re your friends too, you know.”

“Against my will and better judgement.”

Adora rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling, and her thumb starts running along the short fur of Catra’s cheek.

“You like them.”

“I like Bow,” Catra corrects, “And in my defense, Bow is impossible not to like, but I do not like Sparkles.”

“You two hang out all the time.”

“Just because I hang out with someone does not mean I like them.”

Adora levels Catra with a knowing look.

“For example,” Catra says, ignoring the look, “I’m around you all the time, and I can’t stand to be around you.”

“Catra—”

“I mean, imagine you had to be around the great and powerful She-Ra all the time,” Catra smirks, watching Adora try and hold in laughter at her antics, “Insufferable, truly.”

“You can’t fool me, Catra,” Adora says, the hand on Catra’s cheek pushing through the hair pulling out of Catra’s ponytail, “You’ve already shown your hand. I know you love me.”

Catra scoffs, but instead of pushing Adora away like she usually does, she pulls Adora in closer. “You have no proof.”

“You’ve told me,” Adora argues, “Multiple times.”

“That would never stand up in a trial.”

“We share a room.”

“We shared a room with about fifteen other kids in the Horde.”

“You traveled through space with me.”

“Because it’s space,” Catra gives her counterpoint, “You don’t need to be Entrapta to be excited about that. We met people from different planets!”

Instead of giving another argument, Adora pulls Catra in, kissing her gently and slowly like they had all the time in the world.

Catra figures they do, now that Etheria is in an era of peace and the other planets that were under Horde Prime’s control are working on rebuilding. They spent years returning the magic that the First Ones took and reversing the environmental effects of the Fright Zone’s extreme pollution. This is the first moment in their lives that nobody is demanding their attention.

In Catra’s opinion, her and Adora deserve this quiet moment all to themselves. After everything, after abuse and heartbreak and fighting on opposite sides of a war, after almost losing each other to mind control and First Ones’ poison, Catra is almost certain they deserve this moment outside the Crystal Castle and every one that follows it.

Adora pulls back from the kiss and rests her forehead against Catra’s.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Catra asks, brushing her nose against Adora’s.

Adora nods her head no. “I was a bit busy looking for you.”

“You’re going to force me to come back here, aren’t you?”

Adora breathes out a laugh, “I think I can manage on my own the next time I come.”

“I’m still going to come with,” Catra promises, “Melog is coming next time, though.”

“I’m surprised that you left them at Bright Moon this time.”

“They just looked so comfortable with Scorpia, and she loves them so much,” Catra admits, “I also didn’t think the Crystal Castle had enough leftover energy to make this mission possibly dangerous.”

“I would hardly say that this mission was dangerous,” Adora says, pulling away from Catra and starting to pull her through the Whispering Woods to Bright Moon, “It is weird that the ruins did that, though.”

“I didn’t think it would be able to without Light Hope,” Catra admits.

“The First Ones connected Light Hope to the castle, so a lot of its capabilities left with her, but the Heart still powers a lot of the technology in there,” Adora explains, “It’s not enough for the castle to run like it did before I broke the sword, but it kept a lot of its base programming and allows for the AI that guards the Heart to remain functional.”

Catra looks back over her shoulder at the castle, the once-bright stone dull and ivy growing up the sides after years of little use.

“I wonder why it chose me,” Catra says softly.

“I don’t know,” Adora stops them, turning to look at Catra while Catra looks at the ruins, “I would try and explain it, but the Crystal Castle has always had a mind of its own, even when it was fully functional.”

Catra thinks of the memories the ruins showed her, the different versions of herself that it allowed her to interact with. She would’ve assumed the castle chose her at random if the memories didn’t feel like they were directed at her, like the castle wanted Catra to confront her past and gain some closure.

Maybe it’s her connection to Adora. Maybe the castle recognized her from the last time she was there as Horde Prime overwhelmed the Heart and almost destroyed Etheria.

Maybe it really was just random, and the castle responded to her presence in the only way it knew how.

“I guess we’ll never know,” Catra says, turning back and smiling at Adora.

“Come on,” Adora says, mirroring Catra’s smile, “Let’s go home.”

“If Glimmer even thinks of teleporting back here, I’m throwing her off of Bright Moon Castle and no one can stop me.”

Adora laughs. “I think Bow might stop you.”

“Then the future king of Bright Moon will die alongside his bride,” Catra says, drama filling her voice in a way that would make Double Trouble proud.

“Still trying to off Bright Moon’s royalty, I see,” Adora jokes, “I thought you grew out of that.”

Catra smirks, “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Adora looks over her shoulder, looking for any sign of Bow and Glimmer in the shade of the trees. “I think they went on without us.”

“Thank god,” Catra breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief, “We can have a nice, peaceful walk home without Sparkles ruining it.”

Adora smiles, “I wouldn’t mind taking our time.”

Catra smiles too, and she takes a few steps ahead of Adora before offering her hand. “Well, come on then, dummy,” she says, the insult coming out affectionate, “Let’s get out of here.”

34 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 5 years ago

Text

Green-eyed bad boy (2)

Summary: He’s trouble, you don’t care.

Pairing: AU!Dean x Reader, AU Sam, OFC’s

Warnings: angst, tension, flirty/cocky Dean, nakedness, talking about tattoos, voyeurism, virgin reader, innocent reader, language, smut, protected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), seducing, slight age gap (the reader is 24; Dean is 28)

Trouble Masterlist

Eight months, two weeks and four days ago…

Blinking a few times, you need to let his words sink in. Your heart beats faster and you are sure the way you are breathing is wrong.

“Did you listen at all, Y/N?” Your father, or rather stepfather barks. He only was nice to you as he loved your mother, or at least he pretended to do so.

“Yeah, Jason.” Sniffling you look away. “I heard your words. Every single word telling me you are going to marry a woman barely elder than me after my mom died not a year ago.” Spatting the words, you want to turn on your heels, but your stepfather grabs your arm harshly.

“You will be nice to her or you can leave my house. I think you should learn your place, Y/N. I only let you leave here and pay for your education as your mother asked me to do so. Don’t be useless for once and follow my orders…”

Stiffen you nod silently, not knowing where else to go. “Okay…”

“Good…now…” Handing you the keys to the house, garage and back yard your stepfather narrows his eyes. “I want you to let the gardener in the whole month. I will be away for at least a month, maybe two. Money is in my office, the brown envelope.”

“I don’t know how to…” His grip tightens and you whimper as your stepfather smirks at you. “You will learn how to live alone. You turn twenty-five, you are gone. Got it.”

“Yeah…mom really could pick them…” Mumbling the words you cry out as he backhands you.

“I promised her to make sure you can end your education, nothing else. Twenty-five was the limit. Now take the keys and follow the list lying next to the envelope. All bills are paid, you only must buy food. No parties. No boys. No friends.”

Finally letting go of you your stepfather glares at the gardener who dared to walk into the house.

You can see the pity on the tall man’s face seeing your split lip and the tears rolling down your cheeks. “Sir, I’m Sam Winchester, my brother Dean is outside with the needed tools. Can we begin?”

“The student… Law was it, right?” Changing is posture your father offers Sam his hand and you wonder. “He’s studying law at Stanford. Maybe you should’ve studied something useful too…”

—-

Two weeks later the tall gardener is gone and got replaced by his brother. He’s tall too, cocky and doesn’t talk much. All he does is cutting the lawn while playing music.

Today you try to find some peace while looking for a payable apartment and a job to apply to. No way you will keep on living with your stepfather and his new wife.

“Can you hand me the water, Sweetheart?” Smirking the gardener eyes you up and down, enjoying the way you look up at him with doe eyes. “I won’t bite.”

Feeling your cheeks heating you nod, not able to talk to a man like him.

“Here…” Handing the tall man a bottle of water and a half of your sandwich you bite your lower lips as he takes a huge bite, moaning at the taste.

“Such a nice girl, Sweetheart. I bet your daddy is proud of you…” His piercing green eyes search your face only to see it fall.

“Stepfather, and he’s not. I need to…” Pointing toward the newspaper and your iPad you want to continue your research.

“Damn, such a shame…” You want to say something, want to tell him your stepfather doesn’t even like you, but he strips his Henley off, followed by his undershirt to reveal his muscles and tattoos.

With shaking fingers, you grab the newspaper while you try so hard to not stare at the man opening the water bottle only to pour it over his sweaty chest. A tiny whimper escapes your lips as he flexed his arms.

“You should look at my brother’s girlfriends’ profile. She offers a room. It’s a nice apartment, safe and clean. Sammy would hang out there, but according to my brother you liked him.” Dean turns toward the mowing machine, showing you the tattoo on his back.

There’s a phoenix on his left shoulder, one of the wings is placed at this left upper arm, the other spread over the back. It’s a beautiful tattoo and you could get lost in studying the man’s body.

“Are you in a gang?” Glancing at the odd numbers underneath the phoenix you gasp at your boldness. Believing he will get mad you try to get away but he’s turning around, giving you a dirty grin.

“Sweetheart, I am member of a gang. I like tattoos, the girls like it too.”

Stepping closer, close enough to let his breath fan over your skin the green-eyed man darts his tongue out. His fingers reach out for you, slowly sliding over your right arm.

“Girls…” Looking up at him with glassy eyes you barely recognize you place one hand onto his chest. “Is that the reason you’ve got a heart tattoo on your chest?”

“No, Baby Girl. That’s just the first step…you know…” He’s closer again, almost brushing your forehead with his nose. “First step? I don’t think I understand what this means…Sir…”

“Dean, Sweetheart. Just call me Dean.” Smirking he wraps his hand around your upper arm, squeezing your flesh. “It means this tattoo is for a special girl, a girl I didn’t find so far. One day her name will join the heart…”

“OH…” Nodding eagerly you look at the heart at his chest again. “That’s romantic…”

“Nah, I’m not into romance or cuddling. I’m rather the take what you want for one night guy.” His nose brushes your forehead and you shiver as you can smell his cologne and musky scent.

“You mean sex only…I see.” Shrugging you take a step back. “I don’t like men doing such a thing. Pretending they like you only to use you…”

“Baby Girl, I do not use anyone. All girls are coming back…” The smirk turns into a dirty grin. “…for more…”

—-

Every day the same pattern. Instead of sitting in the garden you hide in your room, behind the curtains to watch Dean take care of the garden or repair the fence. Dreamily you bite your lips when he takes off his shirt again.

Once or twice he got a glimpse of you, knowing you are watching him. Dean is flexing his arms, stretching his back to show you all he has to offer but so far you didn’t give in to his advances.

“Dude, get dressed,” Sam mutters as he steps into the garden, handing Dean the phone he forgot at Jessica’s place. “She’s not one of your one-nighters, Dean. Y/N is a good girl, innocent…”

“Innocent…” Looking up to your room Dean licks his lips as you hide behind the curtains, panting heavily. “I shouldn’t…”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t, Dean. I know you love your love them and leave them attitude, even the bad-boy façade, but that girl…” Sighing Sam points toward your window. “She’s been through enough without you breaking her fragile heart. Just don’t…”

“Don’t…” Dean nods, not wanting to hurt you even more. He can see the longing in your eyes and the want, but he will be damned to hurt you.

Forming a plan in his mind he will try to scare you away.

��-

Walking back toward the house, two heavy bags in your arms you wonder why a black muscle car stands in front of your fence. Glancing at the car you gasp at the sight of Dean butt-naked on top of a girl.

He’s calling her dirty girl, while she screams underneath him. You want to look away, want to walk into the house but you can’t take your eyes off his body rocking into the woman.

To your shame he turns around, looking at you with those plump lips curved into a dark grin. Flustered and disappointed you rush toward the house, not wanting him to believe you are a peeping tom.

—-

For the next days, Sam took over his brother’s job, took care of your mother’s roses while you searched for an apartment and job.

“Got some water for me, Sweetheart?” Dean husks but you don’t turn around. Simply pointing toward the water, you remain silent, continuing looking at a scrapbook you made with your mother. “Are you mad at me for having fun in front of your house?”

“Why should I? The street, we don’t own it and you are a grown man able to have sex with whoever you want to.” Sniffling you look at the next picture.

“Are you crying, Y/N?” Feeling guilty Dean looks you all over, seeing the red and puffy eyes he believes it’s his fault. “Listen…I’m sorry…”

“Gosh, Dean. Do you believe everything is about you?” Scoffing you jump up, pressing the scrapbook against his chest.

“It’s my mom’s date of death. My stepfather promised to be here but he’s busy fucking a girl barely elder than me. You can have fun with this girl anytime. It’s not as if we are friends or anything…”

Turning on your heels you run toward the house, not looking back as Dean stands in the back yard, blinking a few times.

“Damnit…I want you…”

—-

Another week passed without Dean coming around. Oddly you miss his company, even if he only gave you a dirty grin or called you Sweetheart Dean made you feel comfortable around him.

Tonight, your friends insisted on dragging you into a bar. Here you are now, bored and not in the mood for their stupid jokes you look around to meet sparkling green eyes.

Your breathing quickens as he smirks at you, downing his drink in one go. Watching Dean for a while you sigh as a girl sits next to him, trying to get his attention but his eyes are focused on you and the way you look away now and then.

“I need to go, Lis. I don’t feel well and should sleep a bit.” Pecking your friend’s cheek, you say goodnight to call a cab outside of the bar but only a few heartbeats later you feel a presence behind you.

“It’s late, Y/N. You shouldn’t stand out here alone in the darkness.” Dean steps closer to wrap his jacket around your shoulders. “’s cold too, Sweetheart. Let me drive you home…”

“I can call a cab, Dean…” His hands move up and down your arms to warm you up as he chuckles behind you. “I didn’t ask for permission. Come to my car and I will drive you home, no talking back…”

“Okay…”

—-

Eyes glued to Dean as he drives toward your house you bite your lower lip. There’s a new tattoo at his right upper arm and you have the urge to shove his shirt away to reveal what it is.

“Just have a look, Sweetheart…” Shoving his shirt away Dean shows you it’s another phoenix.

“You like a phoenix?” Gently touching the colorful tattoo, you look at Dean. His features change for a moment. There’s a hint of sadness in these green orbs as he stops the car.

“It has a meaning, every tattoo…you know. The phoenix stands for resurrection, Baby. It means I was dead for a moment and came back to life.” Gasping you touch the tattoo again.

“You were dead?” Blinking you flinch as Dean places one large palm onto your thigh, gently caressing your skin.

“Car accident when I was eighteen. Sammy, me and my parents got hit by a truck. My parents…they died…” Gulping you feel his hand wander higher, squeezing you tightly. “I was in the hospital and my heart stopped beating for like half a minute. They had to reanimate me three times…”

“So…there will be three phoenixes one day?” Panting you spread your thighs as the hand wanders to your mound, cupping it shamelessly. “Dean…”

“I got another one…” Smirking Dean leans closer to brush his lips over your ear. “I’ll show it to you one day, Baby Girl. Now let me drive you home…”

“The numbers underneath the big phoenix…is that the date of death of your parents?” Dean shakes his head, brushing his fingers over your clit to ignite a spark you didn’t know exists.

“It’s the time my heart stopped beating. I will always remind myself I’m mortal, and destructible. I live my life the way I want to, Sweetheart. No rules. No complaints. No chains holding me down.”

—-

“Will you let me in to have a shower, Sweetheart. Sweat his running down me like a waterfall.” Dean takes his shirt off, licking his lower lip as you are only in a flimsy nightshirt.

“I was still asleep. It’s Sunday morning, Dean…” Yawning you walk toward the stairs to show Dean the way to the shower.

“You could join me, Y/N. I won’t bite…not if you don’t want me to…”

Stepping backward you shake your head, glancing at the tattoo at his chest once again. There are flames around the heart now, which seem to burn the heart.

“Changed it a bit, you know…” Stepping closer Dean cups your face. “I might have found someone burning me inside and outside…”

Plush lips press against yours and you gasp as his tongue swipes over your lips, forcing its way into your mouth.

“I want to taste you…” Purring the words Dean smirks as you blink a few times, not getting what he meant.

“I…uh-I got no clue what this means…” Laughing Dean presses his lips to your forehead. “You are a good girl after all…”

—-

While Dean has a shower, you prefer grabbing some clothes to get dressed. You can hear him sing under the spray, along with praises for the water pressure.

Giggling you get a pair of panties out of your drawer to get dressed but stop in your tracks, watching Dean walk into your room, only a towel slung around his waist.

“I thought you wanted me to taste you…” Dean’s eyes roam your body as you try to hide the panties in your hands.

“You won’t need those…” Taking the panties out of your hand Dean tosses the fabric over his shoulder. “Need you to lie on your bed and spread those pretty legs…”

“I…no…Dean…” Pressing your hands against his chest you shake your head. “I never…I can’t…”

“Shh…I want to taste you, not steal your innocence - not today at least.” A dirty promise in his words Dean pushes you onto the bed, making you yelp as he crawls onto the bed to spread your legs. “Son of a bitch, Baby Girl. Such a nice little cunt you have…”

Paralyzed you feel one finger slide over your folds, spreading your arousal around your clit. His thumb draws circles around your nub, and you gasp as he lowers his head to replace his thumb with his tongue.

“Dean! Oh…god…” Grasping for his hair you cry out as his wet tongue laps at your folds. You read about this in a book, but never thought you would ever experience someone will willingly go down on you.

“Fuck, you taste so good, Baby Girl. Can’t get enough.”

Your thighs lock around his head caging him as he wraps his lips around your clit, suckling hard enough to let your legs shake.

“I…it feels…please…” Fisting his hair harder you press his face further into your sex, grinding against him and Dean groans against you. “I tainted you…” Purring the words he slips two fingers into you, teasing your entrance.

“Dean,” Whimpering you arch your back. “Oh…don’t stop…please.”

Smirking against your he laps at your folds, as his digits slide deeper into your pussy.

“You want this? Right here…right now?” Eyes three shades darker Dean looks up at you, smirking as you nod eagerly.

“Please…”

“God, I’m such a selfish bastard…” His lips seal around your clit, sucking hard and you cry out his name. “Love it when you cum…”

You’re a quivering mess, boneless and shivering as Dean kneels between your legs to remove his towel.

“Dean…do you have something with you?” Nervously chewing at your lower lip, you point toward his cock and he laughs, nodding eagerly. “We will wrap it before I take you apart, Sweetheart…”

“Take me apart…” Eyes wide, fearful you watch Dean grab his wallet to fish a condom out. “I will not hurt you, Y/N. Let me make you feel good, Sweetheart. I know how to treat a girl right…”

“I know, you got some practice a few weeks ago after all.” Smirking Dean nods before he pounces on you, tugging at the shirt covering your body.

“Get this off … now.” Growling Dean kneels between your thighs, watching you strip your shirt off with a dark grin on his lips. “You’re fucking perfect, damn…” Cupping one tit he squeezes your tender flesh and you press it further into his hand.

“Dean…”

“I’ve got you, Y/N. Do you want this? I need to know you don’t do this only as I’m here between your thighs. We can stop anytime.” Dean tilts his head to wrap his lips around one nipple, causing you to arch your back. “So responsive…”

“I want this…with you. All guys I knew are…dunno…” Shrugging you look at Dean. “I want a man, not a boy…”

“I am a bad boy, Baby Girl but I’m going to make you feel so good…” Pushing you onto the pillow he kneads one breast, not taking his eyes off you as he rips the foliage of the condom open with his teeth.

—-

“Do you think Dean is into that girl? He spends more time at her stepfather’s house than he gets paid for.” Jess smirks as her boyfriend sighs heavily.

“He wanted to help me out, take over my shifts and I am afraid he’ll get into trouble or hurt Y/N. She’s not his usual girl…maybe we should intervene, Jess…” Meeting his girlfriend’s eyes Sam gives her his puppy dog eyes.

“Sam, he changed the tattoo…you know…” Pointing at Sam’s heart Jessica smiles. “There are flames now, Sam. You know what this means…”

Looking at his tattoo Sam smiles. Loving the way Jess slides her hand over his chest to place it onto his heart. “You mean he found the one?”

“I think he did, Sammy…”

—-

“Just relax, let me in, Y/N.” Settling between your legs Dean carefully slips the tip in to press into you. You are a panting mess, nervous as hell to embarrass yourself as Dean slowly inches into you.

“You’ve got freckles…” Giggling you slide your fingers over his chest, glancing at the little dots all over Dean’s skin.

“I got freckles, Baby Girl and …shit…oh…you’re so tight around me.” Bottoming out with a groan Dean press his lips against yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Your hands slide over his shoulder, gripping him tightly as you feel him slide back out.

After a few shallow thrusts, Dean sets pace taking your breath away.

Your legs wrapped tightly around his thighs you try to match his rhythm.

The spark reignites and you dig your nails into his shoulders, crying out his name to urge Dean on.

“Want you to cum for me, Sweetheart. Need to feel this tight pussy squeezing me…” Nodding you peck his lips, panting against him while the heat in your lower abdomen gets unbearable.

“Please…so close…” Your hands get pinned down as Dean press his knees into the mattress to slam his hips against yours. He pants, curses and moans between thrusts, looking like the bad boy he is with his smirk on those plush lips.

“Fuck, Sweetheart…” Body shaking, you whimper as you come undone. “Best fuck I ever had…”

You feel something warm fill the condom, not daring to say a word. “I think…” Kissing your neck Dean smiles against your skin. “I want to do this with you again…”

—-

Months later…

“You’ve got a surprise for me, Dean?” Sitting on his hood you look up at your boyfriend, your lover, your bad boy as he unbuttons his Henley.

“All for you, Sweetheart.” With shaking fingers, you touch his chest. The heart is even more on fire now, but that’s not what takes your breath away. It’s your name written under the heart.

“That’s my name…” Stammering you get up to kiss his chest. “My name…”

“You name, Baby Girl, only your name.” Smirking Dean cups your cheek. “Now, we need to decide where to put my name…”

“Hmmm…my chest?” Dean shakes his head, looking you all over before his eyes land on your lap. “I think I found my favorite spot…”

“No way!”

“Can I seduce you?” Wiggling his eyebrows Dean smirks as you pout at him. “How about my chest, right over my heart. Matching tattoos…”

“Bad boys do not wear matching tattoos…” Cursing Dean feels your hand slide over his chest as you look up at him with doe eyes.

“But you are my bad boy, Dean. My man can wear matching tattoos…”

“Fine…you win…” Grumbling Dean presses his lips to yours, snaking his tongue with yours.

“I’ll have a phoenix too, Dean. I want one on my shoulder as the moment I met you I got resurrected too…”

>> Part 3

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @sandlee44, @strayrosesbloom, @notyourtypicalrose, @thewinchesterco, @marvelfansworld, @hobby27, @gh0stgurl, @flamencodiva, @jay-and-dean, @voltage-my2dlove, @spnhollis, @chonisberonica, @wittysunflower, @supernaturalenchanted, @shikshinkwon, @yolobloggers, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space, @ilovefanfic86, @linki-locks11, @eggingamazinglove, @trumpettay, @fandom-imagines1, @thenamelesschibi, @waywardbaby, @straycuties9, @drakelover78, @stuckys-whore, @zxph-yr, @i-love-superhero, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @deepmuffinspymaker, @katpatrova17, @heyitscam99, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @neii3n, @exo-nova, @cocklesbelli, @echoesofpassion, @lauravic, @shatteredabby, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @sea040561, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @shadowkat-83, @alltimesamantha, @officialmarvelwhore, @meganywinchester, @miraclesoflove, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @kayla-2000, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @alexoloughlinlover32, @geekofmanyforms, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @atomicfandombomb, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @defenderrosetyler, @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming, @cassiopeia-barrow, @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters, @mscarter213, @jo-like-josette, @mep6811, @prettydeaneyes, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @negans-lucille-tblr, @deans-baby-momma, @thefaithfulwriter, @squirrelnotsam, @roonyxx, @neerness, @deansgirl-1968, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @20gayneen, @janicho88, @woodworthti666, @thevelvetseries, @dreaminemz, @akshi8278, @midnightsilver16830, @mrspeacem1nusone, @ria132love, @caligraphee, @the-witch-in-silence, @justanotherwinchester, @multisuperfandom, @jason-todd-squad, @jadesupernatural, @psychicforest, @luciathewinchestergirl, @magssteenkamp, @palefiregiver, @tranquility-or-chaos, @jxackles, @michellemxndes, @addictedtofictionalcharacters, @gabifernandessn

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brideofcthulhu10 · 5 years ago

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Hi! Uh so Billy aka Dwayne and I have the same birthday (June 23). I don't really like my birthday because I've never gotten to celebrate. I haven't had a party since I was a kid and now I just always spend the day sad and with no friends. If you wanna write something with the lost boys celebrating Dwayne and reader's birthday together, I'd really love it. (No pressure tho. I really love your blog and hope you'll have a great day ✨)

Aw, I’m sorry to hear you’ve not been able to celebrate your birthday for such a long time. Hopefully I can give you a little taste of a great birthday with the boys, and a very special (belated) birthday to you from myself and all of my readers, you are an honorary Fang Babe which makes you a part of a community that’s there for each other! If you ever feel sad, I got my DMs open 24/7 if you ever need to just vent up a storm! All are welcome.

Happy Birthday to You Both

Dwayne x Fem!S/O

Today was supposed to be special, yet the entire day everyone was so preoccupied with their own little lives that no one had even bothered to remember it was your birthday today. It was absolutely miserable. All the while your boyfriend Dwayne was currently tucked away at the abandoned hotel hiding away from the sunlight. Bursting into flames was certainly an occupational hazard. By this point the whole vampirism thing had come and gone, and while it did frighten you, nothing was more frightening than being without your dark crow.

Rather than stay at home to be ignored you opted to go out for the afternoon, browsing shops for a special occasion. No, not yourself. See, as luck would have it, June 23rd also held significance to Dwayne. Marko, one of the younger members of the coven, had told you two weeks prior it would be Dwayne’s birthday as well. You had to keep your own secret. Not at their request, but your own. Overshadowing his birthday would be dreadful, you hated the idea of taking it from him. Besides, no one remembered anyways.

Weaving through brightly lit shops, you pondered each piece wondering what would suit him best. Clothes were out, maybe a new skateboard? Just looking at the little white tags stuck to the back of them made you cringe. Okay, so that was out. You weren’t made of money.

There was an old mystic shop selling a handful of oddities, somewhere called Madame Medusa’s Mystical Boutique. A few interesting necklaces caught your eye, but one seemed to be directly calling you. It was a crow skull attached to a leather cord, bordered by two carved red beads on either side. Two thick black feathers were wedged between the beads. Gently you slipped it off the hook, running your thumb over the chilled, smooth surface.

“It’s a lovely item, isn’t it,” an elderly woman asked. Truthfully she startled you from behind the counter, almost making you jump a few good inches.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see-”

“Don’t worry dear, hardly anyone does,” she chuckled, tenderly plucking the skull from your hand. “Shall I wrap this up for you?”

“Oh- Well I wasn’t, I mean it’s nice but-,” you stuttered, but already she was shuffling towards the counter again. Boy pushy woman. You didn’t even know how much it cost, you weren’t exactly on a budget but you couldn’t be going on any big spending sprees.

“Hush now. He’s going to be waiting for you, somewhere nearby. I can guarantee that this is the one you’re meant to give him,” she insisted, wrapping the necklace under aged brown paper.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d like it but-,” you couldn’t help but trail off. How- How did she know?

The woman pushed the little baggie your way, giving a tender smile before she began to hobble towards a curtained room behind the counter.

“W-Wait, I didn’t even pay for it!”

She waved off your concern, looking behind her shoulder while she parted the curtains in her path.

“Consider it a present from those who neglected you. Take it to him, you’ll see..” And with that she vanished behind them, leaving you stunned where you stood. Silently you glanced down at the small plastic bag, almost jumping in place when a dusty old grandfather clock began to ring through the store. One, two, three, four, five, six. Oh! It was already six o’clock. Crap the boys would be up any minute!

It didn’t take too long to spot the gang of vampires sitting on the worn, wooden banisters talking amongst themselves. Dwayne was just as eager to spot you, sweeping between the boys and lifting you up in his arms. “Happy birthday, princess,” He gushed, planting tender kisses all over your cheeks.

“How did you know? I didn’t-”

“My bad,” Marko spoke up. He leaned back from behind Paul to wave your way, as if he were waving a flag of defeat. Damn. You weren’t even sure how Marko figured out your birthday in the first place, there was just no keeping secrets from that guy!

Dwayne set you down, although he carried a much more concerned expression this time. “Why keep it a secret in the first place, Y/N?”

You fiddled with the bag still clutched in your hand with eyes cast downward towards your feet hoping a good excuse could get you out of just admitting you’d rather play backseat. But, you didn’t. Not that you couldn’t come up with any excuses. Rather, you didn’t want to be sidelined even for your boyfriend’s birthday. It was yours too, and for the past several years it seemed like you were constantly being set aside so that other things could happen. Your sister’s wedding, that trip to Colorado your parents took, grandma and grandpa visiting, your brother’s soccer games- everything seemed to take precedence over the celebration of the day you were born. And worst of all is you never got your Sixteen Candles happy ending. No one would really recognize they screwed up. You wouldn’t be apologized to with tearful shock when your parents realized they forgot your birthday, your friends- if you could even call them that at this point- wouldn’t try to cheer you up, and there was no handsome crush ready with a birthday cake to make it all go away. It’s like Dwayne already knew your feelings because before you could get a word in he pulled you into a crushing hug. Your head pressed against his chest. Sometimes you forgot he had no heartbeat and instead only listened to him rumble when he spoke to you.

“Just because today is for me, doesn’t mean it isn’t for you too, princess.”

Those words hit you harder than you anticipated. Your throat felt as if it were swelling, dry with each labored swallow, and a tight pressure squeezed the bridge of your nose. Inevitable tears eagerly rushed down your while burnt cheeks.

Dwayne only held you in place. He never let go until you were the one ready to release him, wiping away those pesky droplets of emotion staining you. “Now, I was saving this for when we took you to the hotel…,” he began with his hand jammed into his jacket pocket, rustling around for whatever it was he needed. “But, I figure maybe you need it now.”

A thick banded ring of aged silver sat in his calloused palm, an oval cut of turquoise clasped in place by a weaving border. Veins of black and copper split through chunks of blue-green paths. Rather hold it out to you, Dwayne tenderly took your hand into his own to slip the hefty piece over your ring finger. It nestled perfectly in place and you couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh, slinging your arms over his neck. He already knew what to expect. Iron arms engulfed your waist and lifted you up. His stubble scratched the edges of your mouth when you crashed your lips into his. The sensation was overwhelming. It wasn’t just that he got you this, it was what he had gotten you.

Dwayne had often told you myths and lore on lazy nights when the hunting grew slow and the hours were long. Once you found yourself admiring a very similar cut of jewelry decadently adorned with many fine cuts of turquoise, finding your curiosity piqued when asking him what the significance was to all these pieces. Why was it such a commonly used stone in so much jewelry, especially with Native American tribes.

“From what I can remember,” Dwayne thought back at the time, leaning over you to admire the pricey baubles kept protected under a thick sheet of glass “, my grandmother told me that every tribe has always valued it. I mean, they all have their reasons. It’s a powerful gem that carries protection, life and strength. I’ve even seen it change colors depending on where you find it. I hardly ever saw it though when I was alive, even back then it cost a fortune.”

But now, through one way or another he’d remembered how you admired them from afar, yearning to have a ring like that of your very own. The one to five hundred dollar price tags always scared you off whenever you’d come to find them in stores- at least, the real ones. For once you didn’t care how Dwayne had acquired your gift. Gift! Oh!

“Oh, hold on,” You interjected between kisses with the little bag presented before him. “I um, got you something too. From that crazy lady in the mystic items shop!”

A warmth spread through your chest watching him lay the necklace over, the skull placing perfectly atop his many others. It suited him perfectly.

The whole night was just perfect. You spent the entire time going on rides with the boys after they spoiled you for dinner, later dragging you to the hotel where you realized what Dwayne meant earlier. There were streams of colored paper hanging off the rafters and old piping, red balloons tied to the furniture, and a banner of paper reading out “Happy Birthday Dwayne and Y/N” written in big, red marker letters. You couldn’t even make a wish when they brought out a cake for the both of you. After all, what more could be asked? They had already given you the most perfect birthday you could have ever hoped for.

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nayutai · 5 years ago

Text

Bad Boy Bakery

↠ Pairing Yeosang x Female OC

↠ Genre fluffy dirty angst

↠ Word Count 11.806

↠ Warnings infidelity (kinda sorta), mutual pining, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), foul language, crude jokes, fingering, tattooed yeosang, mentions of criminal activity

↠ Summary Yeosang has a storied past and most of it is documented at the local police station. That’s the past though. These days he’s too busy running a semi-successful bakery with his best friends. After securing an order for the engagement party of well-known socialite Ivy Maxwell, he thinks his business might finally be taking off. He may have bitten off more than he could chew though.

It’s decided. Yeosang is going back to jail. Why he thought hiring the seven other misfits he used to run with to work in his bakery was a good idea he’ll never know. Bad Boy Bakery was supposed to be his way to get his life back on the right track and all these heathens do is test him every single day. He does a quick mental calculation of how much money is stashed around his house and he’s positive he’s got enough to post bail for a simple assault charge, but then again they might try to make an example of him considering his impressive arrest record. With the way he’s being tested at this moment though, he’s willing to spend every penny if it means he gets to beat Mingi into oblivion.

“Mingi, I swear to God if you fuck up another batch of egg whites I’m going to shove that whisk in your ear and beat your brains.” He glares at the clumsy giant vigorously whisking a bowl full of egg whites that already look like they’re begging for mercy. They have to have a full dessert spread ready for an engagement party that’s taking place in less than six hours and Mingi has ruined more eggs than Yeosang is even comfortable counting.

“Man, shut up. I did three years upstate. My arms are too damn strong for this which is exactly why I told your dumb ass to do it.” Everybody groans out loud at having to hear that exact phrase for what has to be the millionth time.

“That was over a year ago and you haven’t lifted anything heavier than a bag of flour ever since. Give it a rest.” Wooyoung garners a round of hearty laughter at his dig, looking quite pleased with himself at successfully bashing his friend.

“I make up for it by jacking off five times a day instead of four now so my point still stands.”

“I hope you wash your hands just as much.” The group of tattooed bakers loudly express their disgust when Mingi gives them nothing but a devious grin in response. Mingi, on the other hand, is phased by neither his friends’ disgust not Yeosang’s bristling anger as he dumps his third attempt at the egg whites into the garbage. So much for third time’s the charm.

Yep, Yeosang is going back to jail.

Ivy is resigned as she carefully sweeps her brush across both of her cheekbones. The glittery gold of the highlight powder left in its wake perfectly complements the rich sepia tone of her skin. She’s just as precise in the application of her lipstick. Slowly, but surely, painting her lips a deep purple. She sighs as she gives herself a final once over in her vanity mirror. The inky black curls that normally adorn her head like a crown have been forced into straightened submission indicative of her mother’s urge to impress the crowd of people that Ivy can already hear beginning to gather downstairs. Her left hands feels uncomfortably heavy as it has ever since this nightmare first began.

As if sensing her procrastination, Ivy’s mother Yvette comes striding into her daughter’s bedroom. It’s easy to tell how much she’s enjoying playing her mother of the bride role. She hasn’t stopped smiling since Ivy’s engagement to her long-time “boyfriend” was officially announced last month. Needless to say, she’s the only one finding any joy in this situation.

“Ivy, sweetie, hurry up and come downstairs. Everyone is waiting to see you.”

“Yeah, right.” Ivy scoffs in response. “They just want to see this.” Yvette frowns at the way Ivy glares in disdain at the stunning ring adorning her finger.

“Ivy Elaine Peters, you better get it to together right now. Keeping this family business afloat requires sacrifice and its your turn now stop moping and get your narrow ass downstairs.” Her mother disappears back out the door before Ivy can get in a word of her own. Not that it would have mattered. Her fate has been sealed for the past twenty four years.

She slips her feet into the black patent leather pumps still sitting pretty in the box on her canopy bed. The red soled beauties are sure to provide more status than comfort, but such is life. Ivy gives herself one final pep talk, smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles in her slip dress. She looks more like a fashionable mourner than a blushing bride but this is her silent protest. She’ll make her damn sacrifice but she’ll dig her heels in wherever she can.

Ivy quickly spots her fiancee Seokjin cracking jokes with a few of her cousins near the front door. He beams at her when he catches her eye across the room, breaking away to come greet her. Not for the first time, Ivy wonders why she couldn’t just fall in love with him to make this whole process easier. Their families have known each other longer than they’ve both been alive so they grew up as best friends. Plus, Seokjin is genuinely a great guy. He’s charismatic, kind, and attractive to the point of unfairness. She has no doubt that he’d make a fantastic husband for someone. She just wishes that she wasn’t that someone. The only positive is that Seokjin feels the exact same way. He loves Ivy to pieces in the most platonic way possible. She’s quite possibly the last person he would ever consider marrying, but business is business and this is a merger that must be made.

“You look absolutely stunning, Vee.” She smiles gratefully at his compliment as he bends slightly to kiss her on the cheek. A camera flashes somewhere off to her right so she makes sure to play her happiness up for the photographer. With the combined notoriety of their families, any pictures taken tonight are sure to be all over the local and regional news outlets by morning.

“I could say the same about you, Jinnie.” The tips of his ears turn red as they always do whenever anyone compliments him. Ivy giggles playfully when he ducks the hand reaching up to tweak on of them like she always does, choosing instead to square up like he’s ready for a fight. Oh, Jin, ever the entertainer. The numerous peals of laughter that erupt around the couple as they take turns jabbing at each other like children tells her that their antics are paying off.

The two imposters spend the night putting on one hell of a show. Anyone would be hard pressed to find someone that didn’t think they’re madly in love with one another. Their parents couldn’t be more ecstatic about this outcome if they tried.

Everyone is seated at the lavishly decorated tables set up in the backyard as an army of waiters replaces empty entree plates with various cakes and tarts that look almost too delectable to eat. The cheesecake placed in front of Ivy looks nearly too beautiful to eat. Topped with fresh berries and drizzled in what smells like some sort of hazelnut sauce. She wishes she hadn’t left her cellphone upstairs so that she could take a quick picture of it for her instagram. When she finally gets over her reluctance, she take a small bite. A borderline pornographic moan escapes her lips, catching Jin way off guard.

“What the hell wa-” Ivy cuts him off by shoving a forkful of the cheesecake into his open mouth. He groans in pleased delight, attempting to go in with his own fork for another bite, but she quickly slaps his hand away.

“Let me taste yours. Bite for a bite.” She pretends not to notice him sneaking another bite of her cheesecake while she tastes the chocolate tart in front of him. A hint of red chili lends a kick that perfectly rounds out the sweetness of the chocolate and the fresh whipped cream the dessert is topped in.

“I don’t know what bakery they used but we need to get them to do the cake for the wedding.” Jin declares as he practically inhales the chocolate tart. He signals the waiter to bring them two more for them to try while Ivy hums in agreement at his side. She makes a mental note to ask her mother who was hired to do the desserts tomorrow as she happily digs into the coconut cream cake being set in front of her.

Yeosang stares in awe at the payment he’s just received for the engagement party they’d done three days ago. His bakery has been faring better than most businesses do in their first year but the deposit currently pending with the bank is going to go a long way in making sure it stays that way. They had even sent two grand more than the $1,800 that the contract had stipulated. Yeosang had called immediately to make sure it wasn’t an accounting error because the last thing he wants is to be accused of stealing, but he’d been informed by the woman who had arranged the deal that her employers had been so satisfied with the food they wanted to “tip” him. Rich people are different.

He leaves his small office to clean up a little while it’s slow. He had let everyone else go early since there were no big orders to work on and Tuesdays are notorious dead zones. The bell above the door tinkles lightly as he cleans some wayward chocolate curls out of one of the display cases, cursing to himself because he’d told Seonghwa that he put too many but of course no one listens to him. Doesn’t matter that he signs those lazy bastards’ pay checks every week.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The young woman before him fidgets with the tie on her wrap dress inadvertently drawing Yesoang’s gaze to the womanly curves she possesses. The emerald green of the fabric highlights the warm undertones of her skin in a way that should definitely be illegal.

“My mother’s assistant told me that you did the desserts for my engagement party last night.” Yeosang curses mentally as he finally takes notice of the skating rink sitting on her left ring finger. He misses most of what she says next but tunes back in just in time to hear her ask if he’s available to do her wedding cake as well.

“What’s the date?” He questions, all business now that more money is on the table.

“September 9th. It’s going to be at the old vineyard across town.”

Yeosang nods in acknowledgment. He pencils her in and schedules a day in two weeks for her to come back with her fiancee to do a tasting and make final selections for the other desserts they’d like to have. Ivy is turning to leave when she catches sight of a full-sized version of the cheesecake she’d fallen in love with at the party.

“How much is that cheesecake?”

Yeosang follows her outstretched index finger to the hazelnut berry cheesecake that he’d come up with. It had taken him ages to perfect but hasn’t really taken off like he thought it would. Nevertheless, he makes sure to put one in the display case every day and he’s glad that he did.

“It’s $6 per slice. Did you want one?”

“How much for the whole thing?” Yeosang notices that she has yet to take her eyes off of the dessert.

“I’ll do $35 for you, beautiful.” For a second, he thinks that he may have overstepped his boundaries but she simply reaches into her bra to pull out a flashy, black card. The credit limit on that thing would probably pay off the loan on his storefront and then some.

He tries not to focus on how warm it is when she places it into his outstretched hand. He could’ve sworn that she intentionally let her fingers graze his own in a less than professional way. Yeosang shakes the thought away as that can only lead to trouble. He packs her cheesecake up while she signs the credit card receipt.

“Have a great day,” Yeosang pauses to look at the signature line of the receipt. “…Ivy.”

“Right back at you.” She winks at him playfully and sashays outside to her car. Yeosang’s eyes are trained on her until she’s seated in her seated in the black Audi he’s just now noticing was parked across the street.

Ivy calls Jin the second she steers her car back onto the road, waiting patiently for him to answer. She’s practically vibrating from the few minutes she’d spent with…fuck she’d forgotten to get his name but there is plenty of time for that. One thing she’s sure she’ll never forget is how hot he is. Ivy would’ve never guessed that she’d be attracted to someone with quite so many tattoos but on him they had looked like priceless works of art worthy of being placed in the Louvre.

“Hey, Vee, what’s up?”

“Two things. One, the bakery that did the desserts for the engagement party agreed to do the wedding.” Ivy curses at a slow driver that cuts her off at an intersection, losing her train of thought for a second.

“And the second thing?” Jin presses.

“Oh, I’m going to fuck the owner.” A thrill shoots through as she imagines those tattooed hands roaming every inch of her skin. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat as her body reacts to her impure thoughts.

“Absolutely love that for you. What’s his name?” Of course he asks her the one question that she doesn’t know the answer to. She rolls her eyes skyward as Jin starts talking shit when he realizes that she didn’t ask her new crush his name.

“I hate you.” She pouts as she turns onto her street. “We have a tasting scheduled for the 17th so I’ll ask him then. I’m almost home so I’ll text you later.”

“Smell ya later.” Oh what she’d give to flip him off right now.

The smile on her face when Ivy walks inside her parents’ house is genuine despite the fact that she’s spent all day doing wedding preparations which normally leaves her in a foul mood. Her high spirits don’t go unnoticed by her mother who is in the backyard pruning her orchids.

“What’s got you so happy?”

“The bakery that did the desserts for the engagement party agreed to do the wedding too. Also,” Ivy lifts the box holding God’s favorite cheesecake in the air. “he gave me a deal on the cheesecake that we liked.”

“Are you serious? He said that he was booked up the entire week of your wedding.” Ivy is a bit taken aback as he had specifically told her that he would be available, but she shrugs it off.

“Maybe he had a cancellation. Do want some cheesecake? This is your only offer because I fully plan to eat the whole thing right now.” Her mother tosses her pruning shears back into the box she keeps them in and follows Ivy into the kitchen where they make quick work of the heavenly dessert.

“Yeosang you fucking dumbass. How are we supposed to do a wedding and an anniversary party in the same damn day? Explain it to me.” Yeosang almost flinches when Yunho yells at him. He can’t think of a time the man has ever raised his voice before now and he’s known him since they were three. Not one to accept disrespect, Yeosang would normally react with anger of his own but even he has to admit that thinking with his dick has put them all in a bind. A socialite wedding and an anniversary party with a guest list longer than his body on the same day is going to take a miracle to pull off.

“Listen these rich people gave us two grand more than they were supposed to as a fucking tip. If they had asked me to get ass naked and let people eat pineapple rings off my dick I would’ve said yes.”

“She had big tits didn’t she?” Jongho typically stays out of their petty arguments but he knows bullshit when he hears it.

“Yes, but,” The room erupts into a cacophony of groans as they all simultaneously throw the closest object at hand Yeosang’s hand. Luckily for him he’s always been quick on his feet. “What’s done is done you fuckwads so get over it and start mixing. We still have orders to fill.”

All eight of them are covered in flour from their frantic baking when they hear the bell jingling up front. Hongjoong happens to be the only one able to immediately stop what he’s doing so he washes his hands and goes to attend to the customer. Yeosang nearly falls backwards off of his stool when he hears the voice of the woman that had put them in such a bind. Wooyoung and San exchange curious glances before they wipes their hands on the front of their aprons and head up front as well. Yeosang feels like his stomach is going to fall out of his ass as one by one they all abandon their posts.

“Satan, why are you doing this to me?”

There’s no reason for him to stay in the back like a coward so he follows suit, wiping his hands and going to the front counter as well. They’re all squished together behind the counter trying to get as close to her as possible. Yeosang shoulders his way between Jongho and Seonghwa and he finally understands why they all look like lovestruck school boys. He finds himself looking just as dopey as his friends when she turns that megawatt smile on him. She’s dressed a lot more casually today in a pair of jeans that had to have been painted on and a plain white baby tee. The little jewel glittering in her belly button looks like its winking at him and he has the overwhelming urge to flick it with his tongue.

“Another cheesecake?” He nods his head towards the box cradled in her hands. She looks sheepish at being caught out. Yeosang thinks it’s cute.

“In my defense, it’s tasty as hell.”

“Just make sure you tell everyone where you got it.” He winks at her playfully which was an incredibly bad idea. She sinks her teeth into her plump lower lip and he knows immediately that despite the massive rock on her finger he would still make a move on her. Time to leave before he does something stupid.

“Alright you lazy sacks of shit, back to work.” They protest just as he’d expected but he pushes them all back towards the kitchen, rolling his eyes as they try to resist him.

“Hey, wait!” Yeosang shouldn’t have turned around. He should’ve kept going as if he hadn’t even heard her, but no, he just has to have manners. She’s propped herself up against the counter that makes her breasts nearly pop out of the scoop neck line of her shirt. “What’s your name?”

“Yeosang.” She repeats it back to him, testing it out on her tongue. Her voice curls around the syllables lusciously and he could die right where he stood. At this point, he’s convinced that she’s made it her life’s mission to ruin him.

Ivy is quick to call Jin when she gets back to her car which seems to be the norm every time she goes to the bakery. She knows that he’s going to make fun of her for being so excited, but she can’t exactly tell her other friends about the hot, tattooed bakery owner that she plans to screw so she’ll suffer the consequences. At least now she actually knows his name so he can’t hold that over her head anymore.

The 17th has finally rolled around which means Ivy has another opportunity to draw Yeosang into her trap. Jin currently sits cross-legged on the bed in his guest room where Ivy had spent the previous night as she models her potential outfit for the day. The yellow slip dress has potential, but Jin isn’t totally impressed. He sends her back into the closet to try on one of her other options. She reappears in a fiery orange tank top tucked into a pair of lightly distressed white jeans.

“Your ass looks great in the jeans so that’s a definite yes, but I’m not really feeling this shirt.” Jin comments as Ivy does a slow turn in front of him. He crosses the room to his closet to help her go through the clothes she’d brought with her to see what her other options are. He eventually helps her settle on a simple black tank top that perfectly molds to the curves of a figure.

“Alright let’s go eat some cake and hopefully get your cakes smashed.” Jin remarks as he herds Ivy towards the door.

When they arrive at the bakery, Yeosang has just finished putting out the tasting plates that he’d prepared. Jin is too focused on the fact that he gets to eat cake before lunch without anyone scolding him for it to notice the way that Yeosang’s face falls when he sees him walking in with Ivy. She doesn’t miss it though. Nevertheless, he reaches out to introduce himself.

“Yeosang. Nice to meet you.” Jin reciprocates his greeting before pulling out a chair for Ivy to sit down in.

Things are all business from there on as Yeosang slides the first cake towards them and Ivy has never been more disappointed in her entire life. Gone is the Yeosang that called her beautiful and responded well to her flirting. She blames Jin.

“So this first one is a spiced vanilla cake with a raspberry cream cheese frosting with a little orange zest.” Ivy is so focused on the way Yeosang’s lips are moving that Jin has to elbow her to bring her back to reality. She sheepishly accepts the fork that she hadn’t realized was being presented to her to taste the masterpiece in front of her.

As they talk about what they like and don’t like about the cake, Yeosang hands them each a scoring cards to rank their favorites. Regardless of the way she feels about him on a personal level, Ivy has to admit that Yeosang is incredibly good at what he does. He was able to take her obsession with his cheesecake and come up with such interesting cake options. She’d been slightly concerned that he hand’t asked for her likes or dislikes in terms of taste, but as they move from cake to cake she realizes that he didn’t need to. Everything tastes amazing. It’s no surprise that each cake receives the highest score possible on their scoring cards. Deciding which one to go with is going to be hell.

“If you don’t let me have the spiced vanilla one we tried first I am calling off this engagement and marrying Yeosang instead of you.” Ivy stands corrected. Yeosang chuckles lowly at Jin’s enthusiasm and the throaty sound sends a shiver down her spine. It’s unfair just how effortlessly attractive he is.

“Okay folks, let’s talk decorations.” Yeosang reaches to his right, pulling a sketch pad from the empty chair next to him. His hand loosely grips a pencil as he waits for Ivy and Jin to throw some ideas at him. Ivy would prefer to throw herself at him instead, but someone how she manages to focus her brain on cake design.

Both Ivy and Jin agree on the fact that they want something simple, but beyond that they have clue what they want. Yeosang busts out a quick sketch of a three tier cake with fondant branches bearing dogwood flowers climbing the height of it. When he presents the rough drawing to them, Ivy immediately falls in love. Thankfully, Jin agrees because she was prepared to fight him over this. They spend a little while longer picking out other desserts for people who don’t want or can’t have cake, but all too soon Yeosang is watching the happy couple disappear from his shop.

The six months until the wedding seem to blend together. Business has picked up significantly in the previous weeks which has been good for Yeosang in more ways than one. The extra cashflow has allowed him to get ahead on some bills while also giving everybody a bit of a raise. According to Seonghwa, who is primarily in charge of the front counter since accidentally slicing his hand open, a lot of the new customers have been big names in the community that are connected to Ivy or her family in one way or another. The woman in question often stops in for a cheesecake. She always asks to speak to Yeosang, claiming to have questions about the wedding though he gets the feeling that she really just wants to talk to him. Every day it gets harder and harder to resist her flirtatious advances. He refuses to be a casual fling for some bored rich girl no matter how much his dick begs him to. Especially one with rapidly approaching nuptials.

Yeosang has never been a very spiritual person, but when he gets the call that the anniversary party he’d scheduled Ivy’s wedding over had been cancelled due to the wife having the flu, he knows that some divine being is looking out for him. He had planned to do his best, but with only one more week left to prepare he was still very unsure of how he was going to pull off two events of that scale in one day. The husband Johnathan Tooney, current district attorney in the next county over, sounds shocked on the phone when he offers them a full refund despite the fact that his contracts states that customers are only entitled to a fifty percent refund of any money paid if the event is cancelled the week of. Most of his customers pay half upfront and the remaining half afterwards, but they had chosen to pay for everything up front. Something Yeosang had greatly appreciated as it was a $2,600 job. Ultimately, Mr. Tooney tells him not to as they intend to reschedule the party as soon as his wife is feeling better and would still like for him to provide the desserts they’d contracted for.

The guys are all equally relieved when Yeosang delivers the news of the anniversary party’s cancellation. Things are smooth sailing from there as they throw all of their focus and energy into making sure that everything will be ready for the wedding next weekend. Not surprisingly, Ivy doesn’t make an appearance in the bakery that week, but what is surprising is that Yeosang finds himself actually missing her presence. Despite his avoidance of all her flirting, he actually likes talking to Ivy whenever she comes in. She may be a bored rich girl but her mind is just as captivating as the rest of her.

On the day of the ceremony, Yeosang is uncharacteristically antsy. He’s not sure what it is but he can’t seem to sit still no matter what he does. He’s itching to get this day over with so Mingi can buy him the beer he owes him. Wooyoung scolds him for being distracted when he almost drops one of the cake tiers on his way to load it into one of the delivery vans. No one has to vocalize just how disastrous that would’ve been because they all know but missing an opportunity to call people out on their shit is just not in Wooyoung’s nature.

“Look, I know you’re feeling some type of way because your crush is marrying a pretty boy that’s not you but I’m going to need you to at least pretend that you still want to get paid for this job.” Yeosang nods in acknowledgment because while he doesn’t like being yelled at like a child even he knows that he’s got to get his shit together and quickly.

“Notice how he didn’t deny his crush on cheesecake girl though.” San pipes up as he hops into the drivers seat of the van. Everyone snickers, switching to full on laughter when Yeosang flips them all off.

Thankfully, the reception goes off without a hitch. The wait staff helps set up the extensive dessert table to save on time and it comes out just as Yeosang had envisioned it. He snaps a few pictures for the bakery’s website before they leave venue. Ivy and Jin had extended invitations to Yeosang and his staff to stay for the reception, but they’d all politely declined. They’re on their way out of the service entrance when one of the girls on the wait staff runs out with two giant paper bags in her hands. Apparently, Ivy had included enough meals in her catering package to feed the vendors that would be in the building on her big day which coincidentally included Yeosang and his gang of merry bakers. They’re all taken aback by the thoughtfulness of the gesture as Yeosang accepts the bags from the staff member who quickly runs back inside the dining hall.

“Cheesecake girl is a fucking saint.” Mingi hardly ever garners emphatic agreement from the rest of his friend group but today is one of those rare occasions.

Business continues as normal following the wedding. Product is flying out of the display case. Catering orders are still coming in left and right. Ivy still stops in once a week for a cheesecake and to flirt with Yeosang. The guys still tease him for his crush on said married woman. Everything is normal.

Until it’s not.

Jin looks like freshly printed money when he strolls into Bad Boy Bakery for the first time since the cake tasting all those months ago. The silver band on his ring finger glitters even in the fluorescent lighting. Yeosang is finishing up his closing routine when he hears the bell and emerges from his office.

“Seokjin?” The manila folder clasped in the other man’s hands makes Yeosang nervous. The last time someone in a suit approached him with a manila folder he was being presented with a plea deal and ended up doing ten months in jail for assault and grand larceny.

“We need to talk. I’ll wait for you to finish up.” Jin takes a seat at an empty table and hums to himself as he waits for Yeosang to join him.

He doesn’t have to wait long for the young business owner to emerge from his office with his keys and a denim jacket in hand. The mischievous smile on Jin’s face makes him uneasy, but he’s no bitch. Yeosang steels his nerves and schools his facial expression into one of bland indifference. He arches an eyebrow when Jin slides the folder across the table and produces a pen from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. The folder may as well be a poisonous spider with the way Yeosang refuses to touch it.

“Whatever you think it is, I promise it’s not that.” Yeosang stares Jin down for a few seconds, looking for anything at all that would suggest he should end this whole interaction right now. He doesn’t find it.

With a resigned sigh, Yeosang flips through the contents of an envelope. He shoots Jin a look when he realizes that he’s currently skimming over a nondisclosure agreement. It looks to be focused around Ivy and Jin’s marriage. The word arranged jumps out him a few times and his eyes nearly bug out of his head. The agreement is vague on the finer details but Yeosang is comfortable enough with what he’s read to quickly scrawl his name at the bottom of the last page. Jin signs his name as witness and neatly tucks everything back into the manila folder.

“Now that we have that out of the way.” Jin relaxes back into the chair and fiddles with his wedding band. “Ivy likes you. She’ll never admit that because she’s stubborn but she likes you and wants you fold her like a towel.”

“Wait, wait, wait, are you saying that your wife wants to have sex with me? How are you okay with this?” Yeosang has always loved forbidden fruit but ruining relationships was the old him. He doesn’t know what to do with this information. Furthermore, he can’t imagine being married to someone like Ivy and being okay with her sleeping with someone else.

“That’s where the NDA comes in.” Yeosang sits in stunned silence as Jin gives him the true behind the scenes story about he and Ivy’s marriage and it’s nothing like the best friends to lovers trope that they’ve fed to society. Well, he guesses the best friend part is true, but they’ve definitely never been anything close to lovers and never will be. They’re simply holding up their end of a decades-old business deal. According to Jin, he and Ivy have already devised a plan to be divorced in a year.

“So,” Yeosang is a bit unsure on how to proceed. This is uncharted territory. “what exactly are you saying to me?”

“Stop feeling bad about wanting to fuck Ivy and just do it. She’s driving me insane at home talking about how hot you are all the time and I can’t take it anymore. She’s out of cheesecake so she’ll be in here within the next couple of days so make your move. Discreetly.”

Yeosang lays in bed that night still shocked at everything he’s learned today. His mind and body have been at war over what he believes to be right and what his body craves. He’d love nothing more than to worship Ivy from head to toe and before today it had been a pipe dream. Now that he’s been given the green light, he’s still conflicted. It feels too good to be true. But he plans to take full advantage of all the good that comes his way until shit decides to hit the fan.

Ivy gives herself a final once over in the mirror. Her outfit is simple. Just a black bodycon dress paired with a denim jacket and her red converse. According to Jin, she should look like she’s making an effort but not too much of one. She’s hoping that this will do the trick as she grabs for her keys and purse, stuffing her phone into the latter as she waits for the elevator to reach the ground floor.

She wants to call Jin for some last minute encouragement on the way over, but he’s being a boring businessman today and is in the middle of a meeting. Ivy is totally on her own and she’s panicking. Hopefully, Yeosang finds her nervousness cute enough to overlook the awkwardness.

When Ivy enters the bakery, one of Yeosang’s friends is manning the counter. A gentle giant with a kind smile. She remembers that his name also starts with a Y like Yeosang’s but she can’t put her finger on exactly what it is.

“Hey, cheesecake girl!” Ivy rolls her eyes humorously at the nickname the other guys in the bakery have given her. She can’t help that the damned cheesecake tastes as good as it does. Before the wedding, she’d had to up her trips to the gym from zero to one just to make sure she’d still be able to fit into her dress on her wedding day.

Her heart drops a little when she scans the display case but sees no sign of the dessert that her soul craves. Yunho laughs are disappointment before disappearing into the kitchen. He returns with a box, smiling at the way her eyes light up.

“Yeosang is with the other guys on a job, but he said you’d be in today so he boxed it up before he left.” He slides the box across the glass countertop into her waiting hands. Ivy digs in her purse for her card to pay for the cheesecake, but Yunho is quick to stop her.

“This one’s on the house. Boss’ orders.” Ivy is a bit taken aback. Hand frozen in her purse. Yeosang makes sure that she always pays a discount rate for her cheesecake, but she’s never gotten one for free before.

“Oh…okay. Well, have a good day.”

It isn’t until she gets back to Jin’s place — well she guesses it’s her place now too — that she realizes why Yeosang had decided to pre-package her cheesecake this time. A phone number is scrawled on the inside of the lid with a quick message from Yeosang asking her to call him. She squeals as frantically scrambles to pull her phone from the recesses of her bag. Yunho had told her that Yeosang was out on a job so she texts him instead of calling so as not to disturb him.

She is happily digging her fork into a second piece of cheesecake when Ivy randomly recalls something weird that Jin had said this morning when he left for work. She was still half asleep and barely human, but now here she sits at the dining room table replaying the strange sentence that her brain had decided to finally comprehend.

Don’t forget to call the baker.

Ivy hadn’t been in the right headspace to question it then, but now that the puzzle pieces are clicking into place, it’s becoming painfully obvious that Jin had something to do with the reason she’s anxiously checking her phone every five minutes. The part of her that wants to chase him with a butter sock is overridden by the much larger part that wants to thank him profusely for whatever it is that he did. Unlike Jin, Ivy doesn’t have a harem of men, women, and others lined up to satisfy her needs whenever he’s feeling inclined.

She’s three episodes into a Cold Justice marathon when her phone rings, scaring the living daylights out of her. It’s Yeosang. Ivy’s eyes widen comically as she freaks out over what to do. She chugs the rum and coke she’d been nursing and picks up the call.

“Hello?” She cringes at how apprehensive she sounds even to her own ears.

“Hello, Ivy.” He sounds tired which has given his voice a gravelly edge to it that’s making her blood sing. “I saw your message and thought it would just be easier to call you.”

Ivy isn’t surprised in the slightest when Yeosang tells her about Jin’s visit to the bakery the night before. That’s a typical Jin move to jump the chain of command to accomplish a job. Yeosang doesn’t seem to bothered by the strangeness of it all. He seems more relieved that his guilt for lusting after a taken woman has been absolved if anything.

“This is a first for me so I’m not exactly sure what to do.” Yeosang trails off. He’s out of his element here. It goes without saying that there will be no romantic dinners at expensive restaurants or long walks to the beach.

“This is a first for me too, but you’re a hot baker that laughs at my stupid jokes and I like that.” His throaty laugh in response makes her chest swell with pride at

“I still want to take you on a date though so I guess your place or mine?”

Yeosang is sweating bullets as he punches in the elevator code for the penthouse suite in the swanky high rise at the address Ivy had given him. In his Michael Jackson t-shirt, ripped jeans, and sneakers, he knows that he sticks out like a sore thumb, but thankfully no one in the lobby had vocalized that to his face. He adjusts his duffel bag on his shoulder as the elevator smoothly ascends to the top floor. He’s been ecstatic when Ivy had told him that she wanted him to come spend the weekend with her since Jin would be out of town on business. This is going to be the first time that he’s seen her in person since they agreed to their little arrangement and he’s nervous to say the least.

The doors silently reveal a posh sitting area as well a lacquered black door adorned with a silver “P”. Yeosang grins at the door mat just outside the door. It depicts a crudely drawn cat with both middle fingers upturned and the words “fuck off” written in a speech bubble. It looks just as out of place as he does and for whatever reason it makes him feel more at ease. He reaches out to press the doorbell but the door is yanked open before he even gets the chance.

“Jesus Christ you scared me!” If his hands weren’t full of groceries, Yeosang would’ve clutched at his rapidly beating heart. Ivy chuckles, pointing to a little black dot above the door.

“We have cameras.”

She grabs for a few of the bags in his hands, but he twists and turns to block her efforts. Their childish antics continue until Yeosang has finally had enough. He crouches down until he’s able to wrap his arms around her thighs, delighting in her squeal when he successfully lifts her from the ground. Ivy swats at his shoulders, but the brute simply crosses the threshold, kicking the door shut with his foot before walking deeper into her home. This first “date” is off to a great start.

“So what’s on the agenda for today, Mr. Kang?” Ivy drums on the marble countertop enthusiastically as she watches Yeosang unpack the groceries he’d brought with him.

“As much as I love a good paying customer, It’s time for you to learn how to make this cheesecake yourself.”

“You better hope I suck at it or I’ll put you out of business.”

“I don’t mind a little competition.” Yeosang smiles deviously. “Especially when the rivals look as pretty as you.”

Ivy feels her cheeks heat up in the face of such flirtation and she’s never been more thankful for the fact that her darker complexion hides the evidence of it. She’s come to know him well enough to know that he would definitely rib her for that.

As it turns out, Ivy is a natural born baker. Yeosang’s heart swells in his chest as he watches her sway her hips to the music she’d turned on as she stirs the berry compote on the stove. His chest bumps against her back as he steps up behind her and he swears he sees her shiver. He rests his head on her shoulder, covering his hand with hers and slows down the speed of her stirring.

“You have to be gentle with the berries, love.” At the sound of his voice so close to her ear, Ivy’s insides turn to goo.

“Maybe I don’t want to be gentle.” Her words hit him square in the chest and he wants to respond in so many ways, but he settles for a chaste kiss on her temple. He’d briefly contemplated taking it slow with her, but they’ve been dancing around each other for nearly seven months at this point and there’s no point in prolonging the inevitable. The wanton desire is mutual on both sides but he wants to hear her beg. Wants her desperate and needy for him.

He eventually removes his hand from hers, choosing to instead hold onto her hips as he continues to coach her through the next steps. She’s so focused on keeping her berries from sticking that Yeosang is able to catch her off guard when he slips his hands inside her tank top to rest them against her bare skin. The gasp she lets out makes him smile deviously. His hands drift up from her lower stomach until his thumbs are brushing the lacy cups of her bra. It’s Yeosang’s turn to be caught off guard when she presses her ass firmly against his front. The way she subsequently swivels her hips is nearly his undoing, but Yeosang has a game plan and he intends to see it through.

“You’re a naughty girl, Ivy.” He lowers a hand to tug on the elastic waistband of the tiny shorts she’s wearing, letting it snap back in place. She hisses at the sting but, if the way her head lolls back onto his shoulder is any indication, she loved it. Yeosang slides his hand lower as if he’s going to cup her over her shorts only to completely remove himself from her.

He busies himself with other things around the kitchen but he can feel her glare on him the entire time. She grumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like the words “teasing asshole” but he choose to ignore it. For now.

Ivy is visibly on edge as she waits for Yeosang to touch her again, but he doesn’t make a single move to do so. He simply dances around her in the kitchen as they finish up their cheesecake preparation. It has to cool once they take it out of the oven so they migrate to the living room while they wait. The episode of Bones that Ivy been watching before he’d arrived is still paused on the tv so she restarts it and settles in next to Yeosang on the couch. She lets out a girlish squeal when he hauls her into his lap instead. He spreads her legs so that they straddle both of his, letting out a content sigh as he rests his chin on her shoulder. Arms wrapped securely around her waist.

He waits until she’s engrossed in the episode. Certain that he’s going to keep his hands to himself. If he’d been able to see her face, he would’ve been able to see the devious grin as she devised a plan of her own. Ivy shifts her legs around until both of her feet are planted on the floor between Yeosang’s. She swivels her hips in the cradle of his lap, snickering at the groan he lets out. Two can play this teasing game. She grabs both of his hands in her own and lifts them to her breasts. Yeosang just lets them linger there. This is her show now and he wants to see her directing skills firsthand.

With her physical encouragement, he pinches her erect nipples through the thin layers of her shirt and bra. The breathy sigh in response to his touch gives him a high that he can quickly see himself becoming addicted to. She ups the ante by dislodging his hands to remove her shirt and bra. She places his hands back on her chest, sighing once more at the feel of him kneading her breasts without any hindrances. Yeosang licks and sucks at the column of her neck. He’s careful not to leave any marks which he’s sure she’ll be appreciative of later. Her needs grows and grows until she’s craving more than what he’s giving her.

“Yeosang,” The way she half moans his name sounds like the sweetest melody. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you, baby girl.” She grunts in frustration. Looks like she’ll have to take matters into her own hands once more.

Yeosang is shocked when Ivy suddenly rises to her feet. He’s more than confused as he watches her disappear down a hallway off to the right of the living room. His breath catches in his throat when her shorts suddenly fly back into view followed closely by a pair of panties that match the bra on the floor by his right foot. He nearly falls over in his haste to catch up to her. He finds her in the bedroom that she’d pointed out as hers when she’d given him a quick tour earlier. She’s reclined amongst the mountain of pillows circling her swollen clit with her middle finger as she fondles one of her breasts. Her mouth is slightly ajar from the pleasure and he swears that he’s never seen a sight more breathtaking. Yeosang swallows, trying to get his wits about him when she speaks and breaks him out of his daze.

“Clothes off, babe.” His limbs are a blur as he rushes to follow her instructions. With every inch of skin he reveals, Ivy finds herself falling deeper and deeper into his trap.

She’d seen the tattoos that covered his arms and the back of his right hand, but the Hebrew script running down his side is new to her and she makes a mental note to ask him what it says later. Right now she wants nothing more than for him to hold her down with his weight and make her his. Yeosang’s eyes are practically glued to her center so shiny from her arousal. He licks his lips at the thought of how good she probably tastes and the mere idea of having her on his tongue nearly consumes him.

Yeosang tugs on his hardened cock as he slowly walks towards the oversized bed. She’s mesmerized by the appendage standing proud between his legs. It’s not over long but he can barely get his own fist around it so she knows that the stretch will be phenomenal when he finally gets inside. He grabs her by both ankles and pulls her into the center of the bed so that she’s flat on her back. She squirms in anticipation as he crawls over her. Lips and hands caressing every inch of her skin that they can reach. She moans deep in her throat when he finally covers her lips with his own in their first ever kiss. Her fingers find purchase in his hair, holding him to her as they ravage each other. Each exhale from her lips traded for his.

Ivy is brought back to the task at hand when a needy thrust of Yeosang’s hips has the engorged head of his erection pressing against her clit. She bites down on his bottom lip at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, rolling her hips up to get more of the addictive friction.

“Gotta taste you. Want you to cum in my mouth.” Yeosang’s words don’t match up with his actions as he continues to peck her lips over and over again. Eager to discover if his tongue is just as talented as his hands, Ivy pulls away to gently push at his head until he gets the message.

The first swipe of his tongue on her soaked flesh is purely self-indulgent. He’s thrilled to discover that she tastes just as sweet as he thought she would. Like the nectar of a fresh honeydew. He sucks her clit into his mouth, biting down on it gently before swirling his tongue around it to soothe the ache. Her eyes roll into the back of her head and she can’t decide if she wants to run from or towards his mouth. She doesn’t get the chance to decide as Yeosang anchors her squirming hips to the bed with one of his arms.

He teases her entrance with a single finger, smirking at the filthy curses falling from her lips as she begs him to make her cum. He gives her clit a particularly harsh suck as he sinks his finger in deep. Her breathing starts coming in quick pants when he adds a second finger and then a third. When she starts folding in on herself, he pulls his fingers from her dripping hole. Her suddenly empty hole clenches around nothing as she complains about being denied the orgasm she was dancing on the edge of.

Her complaints die on her tongue when she takes in the sight of Yeosang walking on his knees towards her. Ivy sits up and meets him halfway. She can taste herself on his tongue as their lips meet for the second time and it has a fresh tidal wave of arousal all but gushing from her. His waning self-control is evident in the way he turns her around to face her headboard, pushing on her shoulders until she’s face down in in the sheets.

She whimpers at the heavy smack he rains down on her ass. He groans at the way it bounces before he grips both cheeks in his hands, pulling them apart to get a proper view of her waiting entrance. Part of him wants to tease her some more, but he doesn’t have it in him to wait one more minute. She nearly sobs at the satisfying stretch of him sinking into her eager flesh in one smooth thrust. He grinds his hips against her ass, relishing in the way her walls are hugging him so tightly. She clenches around him, trying to draw him back in as he eases his hips back only to roughly thrust his length back into her. He repeats that action a few more times to open her up before finally breaking loose.

All forms of speech beyond broken curse words and his name are lost to Ivy as Yeosang demolishes her. His pace builds till it’s almost frantic. It feels like his length is vibrating within her and she can feel her orgasm approaching quickly. She tries to warn him, but he is already well aware. He slows his hips down to a gentle roll and the change in pace has her seeing stars as he can now expertly target that sensitive spot deep within her. He reaches underneath her to rub circles in her clit and she’s lost. Black dots dance around across her vision as the pleasure threatens to completely drag her under. His hips never stop moving as he fucks her through it. The erratic clenching of her inner walls soon proves to be too much for him. He pulls out of her wet heat just in time to release his seed onto her back.

Ivy collapses onto her stomach. Exhausted beyond measure. Yeosang falls next to her breathing just as hard. He’s not going to lie and pretend that he hasn’t dived into more than his fair share of pussy, but that was easily the best sex he’s ever had. He can barely breathe but that doesn’t stop him from leaning over to press his lips against hers once more. Their chests are still heaving when they separate, choosing instead to lean his forehead against hers.

“I can’t feel my legs.” She whispers on a breathless laugh.

“Good thing I’m the king of aftercare.” He pecks her lips once more before crossing the room to her en suite bathroom to get a warm towel to clean her up with. By the time he returns, she’s fast asleep much to his surprise. Normally, Yeosang likes to end his trysts with a massage, but she’s sleeping so peacefully. He cleans up his mess before sliding back into the bed next to her as he pulls a spare blanket over them.

Yeosang awakens the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of coffee brewing. A shower is definitely in order before he seeks out Ms. Ivy. He walks into the kitchen a little while later to find her cooking breakfast in his t-shirt. It’s so domestic that for a moment he forgets that she’s legally spoken for until her wedding ring catches the sunlight from the picture windows.

“Morning.” He whispers into her ear. She jumps at the sound, obviously not realizing that he was awake yet. She relaxes against him when he wraps his arms around her midsection.

“Good morning, handsome. I’m almost done if you wanna grab some plates.” Yeosang preens at the compliment, kissing her cheek an obnoxious amount of times before grabbing plates and some silverware.

The sound of their forks clinking against their plates as they eat fills the pleasant silence as the two adults make faces across the table at each other like children. Yeosang can’t remember the last time he was this comfortable with a woman he was seeing. For the millionth time since he woke up this morning, he finds himself resenting the fact that she’s married.

“I can feel you staring.” Yeosang doesn’t bother looking up see Ivy’s facial expression at being caught as he rinses the last breakfast dish to put in the drying rack. “Spit it out before I get old and feeble.”

“What does the tattoo on your side say?” He looks up at her then, searching her face. Ivy is beginning to feel that she shouldn’t have said anything the longer Yeosang remains silent. He drys his hands on a towel, walking towards Ivy where she sits sprawled across one of the cushy armchairs in the living room. He lifts her only to set her back down in his lap.

“May you rescue us from the hand of every foe, ambush along the way, and from all manner of punishments that assemble to come to earth.” Yeosang absentmindedly strokes his fingers back and forth across Ivy’s bare thigh. “It’s part of a Hebrew prayer of protection that my mom made me get when she realized that her scolding was falling on deaf ears.”

Ivy can’t help but giggle as Yeosang enthusiastically re-enacts his mother’s words all those years ago. She’s seen the articles in the local magazines. They all tell the same story of a young street kid that found his calling and turned his life around, but words on a piece of paper doesn’t capture the nuance of who Kang Yeosang is. He doesn’t shy away from who he was. He embraces it with open arms. She listens intently as he tells the story that will never be found in any magazine. The story of how he successfully graduated from small-time dealing to running guns, drugs, and the occasional fine artifact when he was only twenty three.

“Would you do it differently if you had the chance?” Ivy picks at the hem of the Thriller he’d been wearing the day before as she awaits his answer. She’s admittedly shocked when he he gives an emphatic no.

“It wasn’t exactly something I could put on my resume, but it set this part of my life into motion.” She leans her head into the crook of his neck. Lulled into comfortable security by the vibration of his vocal cords. “I learned how to run a business. Granted, it was illegal, but I baked my first cake in jail which is what ultimately led to me opening the bakery and then meeting you.”

Time is a forgotten concept as they sit in the armchair sharing embarrassing childhood stories and fleeting kisses when they just can’t help themselves. That’s how Jin finds them. Giggling like teenagers that have finally earned closed door privileges. Yeosang freezes when he notices Jin’s still unsure how to act around him. Ivy on the other hand is excited to welcome her best friend back home.

“Jinnie!” She hops up to give him a quick hug and peck on the cheek before returning to her perch on Yeosang’s lap. Awkwardness is radiating off of the man beneath her in near tangible waves. He visibly relaxes when Ivy buries her fingers in the hair at the back of his head to scratch at his scalp.

“I missed you too, Vee. Good to see you again, Mr. Kang.” Jin winks conspiratorially at Yeosang as he cracks open the bottle of water he’d snagged from the refrigerator. “Take good care of my wife.” He adds as a parting shot on his way down the hall to his bedroom which sends Ivy into a fit of curses. Yeosang finds himself cracking a smile at the sound of Jin’s laughter somewhere down the hall.

It’s not the most conventional situation by any means, but Yeosang feels like he can make this work. He glances down at the grumbling woman in his arms. Yeah, he can definitely make this work.

Yeosang is elbow deep in bread dough for a new recipe he’s working on when he hears his phone ringing where he’d left it on the charger in his bedroom. He’s supposed to be heading to Ivy’s later tonight and he’s hoping to have her taste test his new bread when he gets there, meaning he can have no interruptions so he lets his phone go to voicemail. His phone rings again, but this time the song it plays catches his attention. The Alina Baraz song he’d set for Ivy’s ringtone drifts down the hallway. He instantly cracks a smile at the thought of the woman on the other end of that phone call. Passing up an opportunity to hear her voice is beyond Yeosang’s capabilities so he extracts himself from the dough, making a mad dash for the ringing device.

“Hey, babe.” She sniffles in his ear and all of his sense are suddenly on high alert. In all of the months since they started dating he can’t recall her crying. Ever. She’s just too happy. His mind runs through a myriad of horrible possibilities like film cuts. “Ivy, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I need you.” Yeosang has absolutely no idea what’s going on but his heart feels like it’s being ripped in two at the sound of her crying. He pulls his phone away from his ear when it pings. He has to swallow to keep himself together when he sees that Ivy has sent him her location.

“I’m on my way, baby. I’m coming.”

The other cars on the road look like blurs as Yeosang weaves between and around them at break neck speed. The hospital that Ivy is at is supposed to be a twenty seven minute drive according to google maps, but Yeosang is parking his mustang exactly sixteen minutes later. He’s honestly surprised that he wasn’t pulled over on the way, but his euphoric disbelief is short-lived as he dashes towards the front doors of the hospital.

“Can I help you?” The woman manning the front looks at Yeosang with a barely concealed air of distaste. He follows her eyes to his tattooed arms on display in the short sleeved shirt he’s wearing. He’s still pretty much covered in flour from his bread making and he can tell that she doesn’t think much of him. Normally, he would make an attempt to assuage people like her and show that tattoos don’t make the man, but he doesn’t have time for that.

“I’m looking for Ivy Kim.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny whether or not we have someone here by that name.”

“Listen, lady if you-” Yeosang is on the verge of falling into the trap of the old wench’s bias when he hears his name being called. He turns his head to see Jin waving him over from where he’s holding the elevator doors open. He flips the old lady off, delighting in her scandalized gasp as he jogs towards the bay of elevators.

Now that he’s closer, Yeosang notices the cuts and bruises that litter his friend’s face. He looks like he’s been beat pretty good, but he brushes off any questions about what happened. Yeosang is on the verge of choking on his nerves as he follows Jin off of the elevator to room 437.

“I’m going to get some coffee. You guys need to talk.” Jin claps Yeosang on the shoulder once as he goes back the way they came.

He’d risked life and limb to get here, but now he’s afraid to take one more step. He has no idea what’s going on, but he can feel it in his bones that nothing will be the same once he steps through this door. Yeosang’s phone vibrates just then with a notification from the Nike app about some stuff he left in his cart. The little nike swoosh on his phone screen feels like a divine sign for him to stop being such a pussy and go in the room.

Seeing Ivy curled into a ball in the middle of the hospital bed is nearly his undoing. The tears steadily streaming down her face catch the light from the hallway when she turns her head to see who it is. A sob racks her figure as she reaches for him. Yeosang shuts the door, plunging the room back into darkness as he rushes to her side. He’s not used to her looking this fragile and it’s killing him. He kicks his shoes off and climbs into the bed next to her, careful not to jostle the IV needle in her arm. She leans into his touch as he brushes her hair away from her face. The fabric of his shirt is no match for the barrage of tears that Ivy dumps on it. He lets her cry until she has nothing left. For a moment he thinks that she’s fallen asleep, but she whispers something against the skin of his neck. Her voice is so low that he can’t make it out even with her lips being mere inches from his hair.

“You’ve gotta speak up for me, love.” This time when she speaks, he hears her loud and clear.

“I lost our baby.”

He can hear her saying something about a car accident and blood, but her words don’t register in his brain. Yeosang feels like the ground has opened up beneath him, but he’s not falling. Simply hovering, drifting in the void. He hadn’t even known she was pregnant and that’s definitely something Ivy would have told him so he’s guessing that she didn’t know either. Visions of a tiny child with her doe-like eyes and his nose flash across his minds eye. Yeosang has never given much thought to being a father, but knowing that he’d created a child with Ivy only for them to be ripped away like this is tearing him apart. He holds her impossibly close, trying to anchor himself to reality. Tears are flowing down his own face as he attempts to process what they’ve lost.

“This is all my fault.” The guilt in her voice is nearly palpable. Yeosang cups her face in his hands to force her to look him in the eye.

“You did nothing wrong, Ivy. Get that thought out of you head right now, do you hear me?” Ivy nods her head slowly but Yeosang is not naive. No matter what he says, it’s going to take a while before she actually believes the truth in his words.

Jin hates to interrupt them. He loathes it, but life is cruel and Ivy’s parents just texted him that they just parked their car and are on their way inside. His feet feel heavy as he treks back down the hallway. He pokes his head into the dark room and winces at the muffled sound of them crying together.

“I’m so sorry guys, but Ivy’s parents are on their way up.” Yeosang gets the urge to laugh despite the fact that absolutely nothing is funny. This is just adding insult to injury.

Ivy clings to him like a koala when he tries to stand and he’s got half a mind to say fuck the consequences and stay. That wouldn’t be fair to Jin though. He harbors no ill will towards the man even though he’s living the life he wants so for his sake, he extricates himself from Ivy’s grasp to put his shoes on. Her bottom lip quivers dangerously as he leans down to softly kiss her forehead. Jin pulls Yeosang into a hug before he can walk past him and it takes a herculean effort for Yeosang to keep it together. His heart aches with every step he takes towards the exit stairs. It feels like someone is taking a jackhammer to his chest.

He leans his head back against the headrest when he finally reaches his car. A pained yell bursts from his throat before he can even think of trying to stop it. His horn beeps erratically as he pounds at his steering wheel in anger. Yeosang has been through hell in his twenty six years on Earth and yet, he can’t recall a time when he’s ever felt this much mental anguish and despair. Part of him wishes that he’d never stopped slinging coke and running the streets because he’d have never met Ivy and thus would’ve never experienced this. He hates that thought the second it materializes.

The shrill ringing of an old school phone that Yunho had insisted on having as his ringtone breaks through his misery. Yeosang has no desire to utter a word to anyone other than Ivy but Yunho is a persistent bastard. He’ll just keep calling until he gets an answer. He clears his throat and hopes that his childhood best friend is having an off day with those damn spidey senses of is.

“Hello?”

“Dude, have you been crying? No wonder my spirit is unsettled. The fuck is going on?” So much for eluding Yunho’s questions. Yeosang huffs out a shaky breath. He’s not even sure he’s even fully grasped what’s going on himself. He can hear the sound of keys jingling on Yunho’s end.

“Listen, I’m gonna go buy an obnoxious amount of alcohol and then I’m coming over to you place. See you in twenty.” Yunho doesn’t wait for a response, hanging up the phone with a sense of finality.

True to his word, Yunho’s car is parked in front of his building when Yeosang makes it home. His car is empty, so he’s guessing that he must have used his key and gone inside already. He’s not surprised to find Yunho nursing a beer on his couch as he scrolls through something on his phone. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in Yeosang’s haggard appearance. He knows he looks like shit so Yunho’s reaction isn’t unexpected.

It’s nearly three in the morning when they finally crash. Yunho is passed out in the guest room but sleep evades him despite the multiple beers swirling through his system. If he was sober, he probably wouldn’t make this decision, but he’s far from it so he reaches for his phone to FaceTime Ivy. The second her face replaces his on the screen, Yeosang immediately feels like he can breathe again. He’d been avoiding the feeling before now, but after everything that’s happened in the last twenty four hours? He’s tired of beating around the bush.

“I love you, Ivy.” The smile that spreads across her tired face brings Yeosang so much joy. There’s no telling how long it’s been since she’s graced the world with one of her radiant smiles. He takes it as a victory that he was the one to bring that out of her.

“I love you too, Yeosang.”

#ksmutclub #kang yeosang #ateez #ateez yeosang #ateez fanfiction #yeosang fanfic #yeosang x black oc #yeosang smut #yeosang fluff #yeosang angst #yeosang x poc oc #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez fluff

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foxtophat · 4 years ago

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MERRY CHRISTMAS IN JANUARY EVERYONE yeah i know ~nothing is fixed~ but whatever, fuck you, have some fanfic

so anyway i’ve been planning this for a while, i’m kinda shocked tho b/c i finished writing it in like less than 3 days??? (aside from editing) usually it takes me longer to at least figure out how to wrap things up, but at least this one was easy money. i’m sure none of the other ones will be so kind to me

this one takes place a month or so after the last one; it’s set in spring 2028 (omfg finally on a new year!!!!) and it has a little something to do with carmina finally getting some chickens!!!! one thing about new dawn that i think was really lacking is the explanation of how life... restarted before the highwaymen. i definitely remember a few houses having chicken coops, too, so i know i’m not crazy putting these feathered friends in. to me, chickens are the most sensible post-apocalyptic pet outside of a dog; easy to care for, provide food while alive AND after death, and they can reproduce easily enough if you’ve got a rooster on hand. i can imagine a family making quite a life for themselves as a poultry farm in the apocalypse!

ugh idk what else to say so i’ll just say it: thank you so much for all of your comments and kudos on this series. i am so stoked to know that my self-indulgent trash is delicious to more than just my possum ass! i’ve had a lot of fun worldbuilding in ubisoft’s playground, and i hope to continue doing more fun stuff that other people will enjoy too!!!

with all that said, i hope you enjoy the fic :) i’ll put it below the cut for you if you don’t wanna leave tumblr, but ao3 looks so much better. anyway, thank you and have a great jan 20th!!!!

Winter melts away the same way it does every year, leaving in its path wet dirt and green buds of spring growth. John, nursing what's likely the last cup of coffee they can wring from this batch of grounds, stares out over the back yard and idly marvels at how quickly the snow had disappeared. Montana had been his first experience with white winters; even though he's gotten used to the changing seasons in theory, though, he can't help but be distracted by it year after year.

Across the yard, situated just in sight by the hangar, John can plainly see Carmina's new chickens looking for breakfast. They're the newest addition to the homestead, but so far John has only had to watch from afar as the Ryes worked to adjust them to their new home. He's not sure who's raising chickens out here, but at least they were willing to barter. Fresh eggs are going to mean a lot more than the dwindling supplies out of Jacob's cache.

The misty-gray of early morning has almost evaporated in the rising sunlight, and still the chickens haven't been fed. John watches them from where he stands, their frustration leading to subdued crows as they scratch at the dirt. He doesn't know who's noisier — them, or Nick and Kim arguing at the table behind him. Thank Christ the wet end of winter is over; John doesn't think he can tolerate much more of their married nagging. On some level, he's glad they don't make a habit of yelling at him instead of each other, but Jesus, he can't wait for them to both get some space from one another.

"This is why we said we weren't gonna do pets, remember?" Nick says. "Because if she got a pet, we would end up taking care of it. Remember?"

"Yes, Nick, I remember."

"Yeah, and here we are!"

Kim sighs. John doesn't have to look to see the exasperated eye-roll that comes with it. "It wasn't me who kept her up late last night! Which one of us was egging her on when she should have been asleep?"

This is exactly why John has never owned a pet. They're more trouble than they're worth, and the only thing they seem to be good for is teaching shitty life lessons to kids who don't care enough to learn. The only good thing about the chickens is that they provide something in return other than obnoxious crowing.

Carmina thumps around upstairs. John isn't looking forward to having to listen to Kim lecture her on responsibility, but he's not thrilled to listen to much more of this bickering, either. If his choices are to stay inside and fester or go out into the first nice day of the year — well, that's not much of a choice, is it?

"Fine," John sighs before either of the Ryes can set their sights on him, "I'll do it."

"Nobody's asking you to do it," Kim replies. "It's Carmina's responsibility."

John shakes his head. "Of course it is. Where's the feed?"

Nick points out a white plastic container sitting on the pass-through to the kitchen. "Not gonna wait for us to boss you around?" he asks.

John picks up the container and rattles it to make sure it's full. "I'm streamlining the process," he replies. "Unless you enjoy giving me orders."

Sure enough, implying Nick might like being a bossy piece of shit is enough to get him to shut up. He sighs with a deep frown at John, who ignores him as he heads out to the coop. It's a petty satisfaction to take the rug out from under Nick's feet, but John's not above it. Not by a long shot.

Some of it might be compensating for the disintegrating peace that had come with winter. Before the blizzard set in, they'd had enough on their collective plates as they prepared for the worst of the season. Afterward, the snow had prevented them from doing much more than what was necessary to survive, and the resulting downtime had settled like a comfortable blanket. Even now, with a few weeks of grating interpersonal interactions, John feels more focused, more rested than he can ever remember feeling. Living underground for eight years, he'd naively thought that he'd gotten enough rest to last him a lifetime — but he'd been strung out on Bliss and trying not to suffocate, and he hadn't known what he was doing. He's starting to suspect that the Bliss might've had a worse effect on him than the myriad other drugs he'd ingested. Hell, he's not sure he's clean even now — but he's managing, and that's what matters.

It's only once he's halfway across the yard that John realizes Kim forgot to argue about him going off on his own. Sure, he's only going as far as the hangar, but it's become something of a pleasantry she uses whenever John pretends to have the freedom to go where he pleases. Her irritation at Carmina and Nick probably made her forget. She's gotten so used to trusting John that she's finally found other things to take up her attention.

Weirdly enough, the casual disregard for his potential backslide irritates him. It really shouldn't. He should be thrilled that he can finally disappear from view for an hour without somebody calling out a search party. He's more than earned it, he thinks, but their trust highlights their naivety. Luckily for them, John means it when he says he's changed — but it's a line they're going to hear time and again from people far less genuine than he's been. They're so willing to help everyone and anyone that they don't even realize how much of a target they're making themselves. John's had to hold his tongue whenever Nick gives free supplies to shifty-eyed tweakers who are "just passing through," and while he trusts Kim not to let anyone obviously suspicious into the house, he doesn't trust her to recognize a cunning liar.

The last thing John needs is for the Ryes to put their trust in the wrong reformed psychopath. At least he's capable of picking up their slack. After all, John has his time at law school and years of psychological abuse under his belt — plenty of real-world experience dealing with unrepentant garbage. He'll notice it when somebody cases the hangar or acts too erratically, and hopefully the Ryes will listen to him if he gets the nerve to voice his concerns.

Not for the first time since summer, John is struck with a newfound respect for Jacob and the role he'd inhabited in the Project. It used to be his job to look out for insurrectionists, and he'd taken on that burden even when John and Joseph would openly dismiss his concerns. John can't imagine how many fires Jacob must've put out while the rest of the family was distracted by the Bliss. Looking back on it now, it's honestly a surprise they maintained their operation as long as they did, considering only one of the four of them was ever sober.

The chickens are hopping at his arrival, scuttling around the dirt and crowing as John reaches the pen. They don't notice him so much as the bin he rattles on approach, full of vegetable cuttings and strange white worms that come out whenever it rains. John doesn't mind one lick — he's never been much of an animal person, and he certainly doesn't care if Carmina's so-called pets notice his existence. Of course, knowing Carmina, she's going to use this as an excuse to shift breakfast duty to John full-time, and John won't have much of a say in the matter.

Well, that's not strictly true, but if Carmina asked, he knows he would do it, if only to give his day more structure. Truthfully, he's grown to depend on routine, when before it was impossible to keep to a schedule that didn't involve other people's expectations of him. There's probably a metaphor to be made about trains on and off the tracks, but John has never been particularly interested in locomotives.

John shakes the dead bugs and scraps out into the pen, watching the hens as they race to be the first to eat. They're perfectly happy now that they've been fed, cooing and clucking as they peck the dirt. They certainly seem content with safety and food — not entirely unlike the survivors living day-to-day in the town and beyond. Sure, John might not always be satisfied by bare sustenance, and one day he'll chafe under the grind of surviving week to week, but for now, he might as well be a dumb chicken crowing in the morning sun.

He throws some more feed into the pen, watching the three hens waddle after their meal. One of them lingers by the fence, freezing for a moment as her head swivels back and forth. She pecks at the dirt away from the feed before hustling after her two companions. John watches as she stops again; when he tosses a few worms in her direction, she pecks briefly at them before lifting her head to survey her surroundings.

The primal sensation of something being wrong nearly overtakes John's reasoning, before he manages to remind himself that a chicken's predators aren't exactly his to worry about. Still, he rattles the container to bring the hens scuttling towards him; all three are easily distracted by food now, but John can't shake the feeling that he'd missed something they hadn't. A fox, maybe? A snake? Anything could be lurking in the woods on the other side of the wash. Not a whole lot that could hurt him , of course, but he's not about to be blamed for Carmina's chickens being eaten by a wild dog.

The fence-line is... nebulous past the hangar, sure, but John's positive Kim doesn't consider the rest of the old airport off-limits. Then again, she might be in the mood to lecture him once she gets through with Carmina. It's a risk he's not sure he's willing to take.

Two chickens continue to eat as one keeps watch, their heads bobbing up and down as they switch off. Their unease mirrors his own, and John can imagine Faith giggling at him for being swayed by some dumb birds.

"Very well, ladies," he sighs, shaking the remainder of their breakfast onto the ground. "Don't let them say I don't care."

The chickens don't give three shits about John's motivations, of course; they watch him go, pecking at the food with increasing carelessness as the distance grows. John rolls his eyes at their sudden fearlessness, half-convinced to let whatever animal is lurking eat them out of spite.

There's a wide swath of dirt behind the hangar, separating it from the mostly-overgrown remnants of Rye Aviation that couldn't be saved. John can see the edge of the chicken pen from here, but the hangar is blocking him from the house. Even though he knows the Ryes trust him not to run off, he still feels distinctly uneasy going somewhere where they can't see him. At this point, Nick would probably only tease him for it, but John's not about to linger out here and risk turning Kim's irritation on himself.

To the right of the derelict hangars is a sparse wedge of trees that have grown in uninterrupted. John knows there's a path cut between the trunks, one he'd made himself while hauling the tire-planters for Kim last year, and there's a long stretch of unused runway beyond it. It isn't a great place for anything bigger than a fox to lurk in. That doesn't explain the feeling of being watched that comes over him as he stops halfway across the empty dirt lot; he looks around, but there's no place for anything to hide out here. The overgrowth on the old hangars can't be more than two feet high, and the bushes in the copse are brambly and sparse. The only place anything could hide would be in the trees, which is why John approaches them with more caution than they're worth.

The thinned underbrush is easy to explore, but John goes carefully as he picks through the trees and bushes. He doesn't know exactly what he's looking for — some sign of predators, whatever those might be — but he doesn't find much. There are some hoof-prints clear in the dirt, curving sharply away from the Rye homestead and back out to the airstrip, which tells John that the goddamn deer are back, probably looking to eat their hard-grown crops. Other than that, there's no sign of anything that might be stalking the hen-house. The ground is still somewhat soft from the rain a few nights ago, but it barely takes the imprint of John's boots as he explores the small grove.

That's why it's such a shock to see the tread of a narrow boot in the dirt by the trunk of one of the trees, well off the beaten path. It's an old print, he thinks — but he doesn't remember the last time any one of them had been out this way. Certainly not since the last time it rained.

An electric shock conducts itself down his spine. Somebody had been out here, hiding here in the trees, and it's only been two, three days since the last rain. John turns, and from his vantage point, he can clearly see the coop and the back of the hangar, but not the house. For that, he'd have to move out of the trees, into direct view of the porch.

It has to be Grace's boot. She's the only one he could imagine creeping around the property with good intentions. But even that explanation doesn't settle the anxious flip of his stomach; he tries not to let it show as he marches from the trees, intent on dragging Nick over and proving to him once and for all that they need to be more goddamn careful about who they let around the property. Somebody is going to want the copper fixtures they've salvaged, even if there's nobody to sell the metal to these days.

John gets halfway back to the coop when he catches something in his peripheral vision. Terrible, primal terror grips him as he fixes his gaze on the trick of the light that had scared him, ready to catch Grace peering at him over the abandoned hangars, or maybe a pack of wild dogs. What he sees instead turns his blood to ice, caught like a deer in headlights as the low-hanging shrubbery and thick vines shift and part for a rising mass of dark brown fur. The shape that rises from the underbrush is a tall, dark smudge against the blue sky, and John nearly swallows his tongue when he sees its face — or the horrifying absence of one, replaced with white, flaking skin and two huge, empty eye-sockets that are fixed on John's position.

It doesn't move. Neither does John, frozen to the spot as the chickens begin to crow and fuss. He can't fathom what he's looking at — a bear, a person, a fucking mutant? — but whatever it is, he suspects it's infected with Bliss. Who knows how many angels ended up underground after the Collapse? What might've happened to them in the years since? All John knows about them is that they're dangerous to everybody but Faith, and Faith died a decade ago. If this is an angel — God, there'll be no stopping it. And if it isn't — then what the hell is it ?

There's no way for John to get from here to the house without the thing chasing him. The hangar is blocking his brutal oncoming murder from the two people who might actually be able to do something about it. He doesn't have to look to know the distance from here to the house is insurmountable.

The creature lifts its arm, and the situation that couldn't get any worse takes an even more horrifying turn as it reveals its weapon of choice: a crudely fashioned bow, the same kind of handmade weaponry that Joseph's followers have been seen with.

All at once, Nick's voice is ringing in John's ears, warning him of what's going to happen if this gargoyle takes him away. The things John hadn't considered before — the Ryes' reputation, Carmina's safety, the hard-won trust John's gained from the survivors — it's all in jeopardy. The situation barrels into him all at once — the realization that whatever Joseph did to create this thing , he won't hesitate to turn on John.

He tries to shout a warning, but his breath is caught in his throat. Faith's voice, faint on the breeze, laughs and whispers sing-song into his ear:

They've found you!

The monster barrels down the slope of the hill as if prodded into action by a hot poker. Its gait is wide, bringing it towards John at speeds impossible to outrun. This time, John's shout comes out clear as a bell, panic screaming through him as he turns and bolts for the house. He nearly clips himself on the pen as he hangs a sharp right turn, the porch coming into full sight —

Something snags the back of John's shirt, and his momentum briefly chokes him. A thick arm bears down across his neck before he can rip free, the creature grunting in exertion as it yanks him backward. John feels his boots scrape on the dirt as he's dragged towards the trees, away from the safety that's plain in sight.

Animal instinct kicks in. John gnashes his teeth but there's nothing to bite, so he kicks out his feet instead, first in front of him and then harshly backward until he can hook his shin behind his assailant's and trip them both to the ground. The creature goes down with a surprised grunt; John does his best to roll away, only to be yanked back by his hair. He's distantly aware that he's spitting like a cat in a sack, clawing and biting, the two of them rolling in the dirt as John screams profanities and heresy at the monster trying to pin him down, anything to convince the universe to take mercy on him for once in his fucking life!

The creature manages to grab him by the shoulder, throwing him into the dirt before backhanding him violently across the face. It's enough to daze him; for one horrible second, he's unable to do anything as the monster begins to drag him across the dirt by the legs.

There's a commotion coming from the house. For a split second, the creature looks up, and John realizes his opening at the same time the monster realizes its mistake. It looks down just in time for John to kick it square in its barky, hollow-eyed face, sending a split down the wooden facade.

" John !"

The monster reels backward as if burned, grabbing at the mask as it falls away. John catches sight of a single dark, wild eye behind the broken wood before he kicks out again, sending both boots into his assailant's chest. As soon as the creature staggers back, John bolts, scrambling towards Kim as she races toward him with the rifle drawn. Nick is hot behind her; he grabs John's shoulder and drags him partway back to the house. John doesn't need the escort, and so Nick quickly leaves him to scramble up the porch as he goes after his wife.

John gets all the way to the stairs inside before he realizes there's no safe place to hide. He'd found out this winter just how flimsy the prisoner story had been; if somebody wants to take him, all they have to do is climb onto the roof and jimmy the lock on the nearest window. Whether it's through the broken window in his room or a gap in the roof leading to the attic, the Project will find him. He can't possibly outrun them forever. He'd be stupid to even try. God, he'd been a fool for thinking Joseph wouldn't send someone looking for him, that he wouldn't want to snatch John back from the clutches of apostasy. There's no way Joseph will leave a loose end like him untied.

John sinks to the bottom steps in his mounting despair, only to realize for a second time that he's being watched. The realization is less of a shock as Carmina peers at him around the kitchen archway; she jumps at the distant rapport of gunfire, staring owl-eyed at John as though she expects him to do something.

"Stay down," John hisses, setting an example as he keeps low on his way into the kitchen.

"What happened?" Carmina asks, frantic, "Is mom gonna be okay?"

"Yes," John replies, although he can't possibly know that for sure. He waits a beat, listening for more gunshots, then carefully lifts his head to check out the window when none come. He lets out the breath he'd been holding when he sees Nick standing with his hands on his hips, staring at Kim further down the yard. Whatever the danger had been, it's not pressing enough to warrant immediate action.

"Seriously," Carmina whines, as if that could hide her fear. "What was it? Was it a bear? Grace says there are bears in the woods but I've never seen —"

John sinks to the ground, his mind reeling even as the panic passes, leaving him numb. "It wasn't a bear."

Carmina chews on her lower lip, looking up towards the window as though she might try looking for herself. "Are the chickens okay?" she asks.

"They're fine," he sighs. He pushes his hair from his face, only to realize that his hands have started to tremble with run-off adrenaline.

"Are... you okay?" she asks, frowning as though she can't decide whether or not his wellbeing is her problem to deal with.

Goodwill must be genetic, John laments. "I'm fine," he tells her. She gives his shaking hands a hard look; he sighs and reiterates, "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not," Carmina huffs. Apparently, Nick's attempts to teach Carmina how to bluff haven't worked out.

John is saved from needing to reassure her as Nick abruptly appears in the kitchen arch, out of breath and red-faced. His shock gives way to relief at the sight of the two of them huddled by the counter. He's out of breath and visibly bewildered.

"Shit, John, you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, although he doubts Nick will believe it any more than Carmina had. His foot jogs uselessly against the floor. "Kim — did she...?"

Nick shakes his head. "She tried," he says, "But it was too fast. What the fuck was it ?"

"Somebody from the Project."

"No shit. But — look, it wasn't an angel , was it?"

John shakes his head. "I don't know."

Kim storms into view, making her way to the pass-through from the living room side. She sets the rifle down on the counter, catching John's eye with a glare. John hurries to explain himself, as if he could possibly apologize for bringing the cult back to her doorstep.

"I was checking for foxes," he tells her, "I didn't think it — if I'd known what it was, I wouldn't have gone on my own."

Despite the fury in her eyes and the hard edge to her voice, Kim seems to mean it when she replies, "As long as nobody's hurt."

But the damage is done, and John can't help but babble on uselessly. "I wasn't looking in the right place. But I shouted as soon as I saw it. I just — couldn't outrun it. I wasn't fast enough. And I wasn't — it was stronger than I expected, stronger than..." Even he can hear the panic edging into his voice, cutting himself off with one last worried question. "Do you think it's gone?"

"It better be, if it knows what's good for it," Kim replies. "Are you sure you're okay?"

At any other time, John would be irritated to have to reassure every single Rye individually that he isn't in the throes of a panic attack. Right now, he's only grateful to realize that Kim doesn't blame him for the thing's appearance.

"I am," he says. "Thank you."

Nick groans, covering his eyes with one hand as he leans against the counter. "So much for it being safe to go out alone. Damn it, we got too comfortable."

" I got too comfortable," John says. "It wouldn't have cared about either of you."

"What about the chickens?" Carmina asks, "Are they safe there?"

Kim crosses her arms. "What I want to know is what the hell the Project is doing out here."

Her question is the only one John has any insight into, although he doesn't know how realistic his theory is. "They might be hunting deer," he says. "The only thing I saw, other than — than that , were deer tracks."

"All the way out here?" Kim asks skeptically.

"The hunting can't be any good in that swamp they're hiding in," Nick points out, frowning as he considers the idea. "And there are more survivors around the river these days. I'd bet that'd make for slim pickings."

"I doubt we'd even know they come out this far if I hadn't been the one out there. At least we've confirmed they're actively searching for resources beyond their compound — and they're relying on traditional methods to do so. Most likely because the armory was destroyed."

"Thank God for the Deputy," Nick sighs. "Okay. We're just gonna have to... I dunno, be willing to shoot, I guess." He doesn't sound so sure about it, and he quickly softens the intention. "At least a couple more warning shots. Once they remember guns outstrip arrows every way but sustainability, they'll probably keep back."

"We can push the fence-line out, too," Kim says. "It won't necessarily stop them, but at least it'll give them a line to cross. They're not cavemen — they remember property laws and how those get enforced around here."

"We'll have to start checking the traps more often. They might be living like bloodthirsty Mennonites right now, but that doesn't mean they aren't willing to steal to survive."

"They'll justify it one way or another," John sighs.

"So I guess we don't have to move the chickens after all," Nick says, "So long as we establish a perimeter. Sound good, Carmina?"

Carmina must have slipped out at some point during the conversation because she's nowhere to be found in the kitchen. Nick glances over John's head and out the window, swearing loudly.

"What the hell is she doing out there?"

John gets to his feet as Nick and Kim take off. He watches them through the window as they chase after Carmina, who's stopped to look around partway towards the coop. Either she's dumber than she seems, or she's inherited both of her parents' reckless streaks. Either way, she's going to leave herself open the same way John had. She's too confident that nobody wants to hurt her. The only way John knows how to teach that lesson, though, is not one that Kim or Nick would approve of — and so he sidelines his worries in favor of sticking with whoever is more armed than he is.

By the time John comes outside, Kim is knee-deep in the middle of a heated lecture about safety and responsibility. Carmina scowls at her feet, her face turning red as she's scolded. John ignores them, passing them by in favor of catching up with Nick, who's come to a stop a few yards past the coop. He's staring out into the unoccupied land — land that used to be his property, once. Now Nick is as much a stranger here as John is.

"Check it out," Nick says, holding out a thin, white-barked piece of wood. John takes it and recognizes it immediately as part of the mask he'd broken in two. The hole for the eye is a roughly cut gouge in the soft wood, and the bark flakes as he wipes his thumb across it.

"I hadn't even considered a mask," John admits. "I thought it was a monster."

"You and me both," Nick replies. He heaves a sigh. "Still waiting for the mutants to crawl out of the sewers, I guess. But I think we can handle a couple of jackasses with arrows."

John squints across the clearing, as if maybe his assailant has hung around waiting for them to reappear. "Next time, it might be Joseph," he points out grimly. "That hunter recognized me immediately. They'll tell him I'm here, and he'll want to find me."

"Come on. Like Joseph's gonna risk crossing enemy territory on foot. I'd be more worried about those goddamn hunting parties you used to send out."

John unconsciously reaches up to rub his throat. "Yeah," he says. "You're right. One of them clearly wasn't enough, but if Joseph decides I'm worthwhile, they'll come as a pack. If he's still manufacturing Bliss somehow, it would be easy to subdue me. And then..."

He's surprised out of his would-be reverie as Nick slaps his shoulder with a heavy hand. "We're not gonna let that happen," he says. "As long as you put up the same fight you did today, Kim and I are gonna come running."

Despite the reality of hidden archers and surprise ambushes, John allows himself to be reassured by the sentiment. At the very least, he pretends for Nick's sake. "I suppose you two were quick to the rescue," he drawls. "But if they get me to the tree-line, I'd rather you just put me down before I get dragged all the way back to the compound."

Nick chuckles. "We'll try to avoid that for now."

Looking over his shoulder, John catches Kim crouched down in front of Carmina, hands on her shoulders. Whatever she's saying, it's too quiet for John to hear, but Carmina's sniffles are a loud precursor to a lot of tears.

"I guess she believed you when you said the Project wouldn't care about us," Nick sighs. "At this rate, we're gonna have to put a bell on her."

"I could tell her about the child soldiers from the summer camp, if that would prove the gravity of the situation."

Just the mention of it makes Nick look a little queasy, and John immediately regrets bringing it up. "I don't want to scare her that badly," Nick says. "She's a good kid, she means well. She just needs to stop going off half-cocked, is all." He rubs his hand across his forehead and complains, "I thought we taught her to be smarter than this."

"She's still your kid," John says. Nick gives him a sour look, but it's the truth no matter how bitter Nick might feel about it. "You can't expect her to be utterly obedient, given her genetics."

"I guess ." He sighs, shaking his head. "At any rate, it's time we stop sugar-coating the cult for her benefit. She's obviously not taking it seriously."

John looks again and sees Kim embracing Carmina tightly. He can't help but worry about what might happen if the hunters come back. When he'd been with the Project, he'd understood Joseph's motivations — at least superficially — but now he's completely in the dark. They used to fill their ranks with abducted children and their desperate parents. He has no idea if Joseph is in a position to expand his flock, but if he is... John does not doubt that they'll start with the young and impressionable. Carmina, being young but not as impressionable as they'd like, probably wouldn't make it back to the compound before she got herself killed. He can't imagine anyone having enough patience to break her.

"You... uh, think we should be worried?" Nick asks after a brief stretch of silence.

"Not yet," John replies grimly. After all, the Ryes have a bargaining chip like no other, in case their daughter is ever taken. John can see to it that she's left alone, but it will only work once — and after that, who knows which brother will be sending hunters after her.

"Good thing we got ourselves a couple of extra guns," Nick says. "You and her are gonna have to start carrying pretty much everywhere."

"I'm sure people will love that."

"Fuck people, man, did you see the size of that fucking guy?"

John can't help a wry smile. "They weren't so big. If I were a couple of years younger, I would have taken them."

"Yeah, sure. "

The lecture must be over with for now, as Carmina's attention has turned back to her chickens. Kim watches her from a distance; John can't read her expression from here, but her posture is tense and defensive. John can't blame her — he doesn't have a parental bone in his body, but the stress of raising a child in these conditions isn't lost on him. Trying to instill a sense of fear into somebody who lived their formative years without a threat in sight can't be easy. Doubly so, considering Carmina can no doubt outgun the rudimentary weaponry the Project is utilizing. Hell, maybe they really are only a threat to him. Maybe it doesn't matter if Carmina sneaks out of the house.

"She won't leave unnoticed again," John decides, because it's the only promise he can genuinely keep.

"Oh yeah? You're gonna eat those words when she's a teenager."

"I'd hope she would be smart enough to bring back up by then."

"Me too." Nick exhales loudly enough to get Kim's attention, stretching one arm over his chest, then the other. "Well, I guess we better get started if we want to have anything to show for it by nightfall."

Even so, it takes Nick another moment before he brings himself to move. John lingers behind, unable to help himself as he eyes the trees distrustfully. There's nothing saying that hunter isn't still out there, watching them from a safe distance. If Jacob had a hand in training them, it's unlikely that John will ever see them coming again. He's likely lost the one chance at a level playing field, and he hadn't even realized it was something he could lose.

Fuck it. It doesn't matter. John has adapted time and again to every disaster in his life, and there's something to be said for the person who he's become. If this is the next catastrophe that he'll have to weather, then so be it. If he isn't capable of dealing with Joseph by now, then it's likely he never will be — and if that turns out to be the case, he can only hope that Kim is as quick on the trigger as she seemed to be today.

#far cry new dawn #fcnd #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #carmina rye #far cry fanfic #my fic #ugh tagging sucks on this site #mercyverse

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years ago

Text

Meeting the parents

Summary: Eddie goes to dinner with Richie’s parents for the first time since they got married

A/N: My entire country is in lockdown, I’m freaking out and I’m bored so if anyone has any requests, please send them to me! Let me know what you think

Eddie has probably never been this nervous in his life before. His palms are sweating, which he finds absolute disgusting, and he keeps shifting from one leg to the other. The old familiar door is still firmly closed, yet Eddie can’t seem to stop the hysteria from bubbling up his throat.

A hand grips his underarm loosely, the rough palms of the hand irritate Eddie’s skin, yet he leans further into it. Richie is looking down on him with a knowing, teasing smile. When Eddie agreed to dinner with Richie’s parents, he hadn’t expected to feel so nauseous with anxiousness.

It’s stupid he knows, he met Maggie and Wentworth when he was barely two years old. They watched him grow up, they know exactly the type of person he was and the person he had become right before he left Derry.

He used to spend all his free time with Richie in that house. Every birthday he begged for his mom to let him go over to their house, and though Sonia refused and guilt tripped him into spending his day with her, the Toziers always tried their best to make his birthday as enjoyable as possible.

He remembers the last birthday before his mommy and him left for New York, which happened to be his fifteenth. On the day itself Sonia had confided him to their house, claiming that he was sick and he needed to either celebrate at home with her, or not at all.

Looking back on it, it was clear that she just wanted to ruin the losers surprise, as they had a party planned at the quarry. It didn’t matter anyway, Richie resigned himself to climbing through the window at night with soda and chips, and they had a small celebration together.

Two days later, Maggie invited him to their home, also for dinner. Eddie didn’t know what to expect, finding it a weird request, until Richie had excitedly pushed him into the living room, where Maggie and Wentworth had a whole buffet of pizza’s and gifts spread out, singing happy birthday to him as if they were little kids themselves.

Eddie had shyly begun to eat, feeling guilty that they had spend so much money on him, but Maggie had given him a big hug, so tight it felt as if she was breaking his ribs, laughing that it was his birthday, and he deserved to have fun and get everything he wanted for a day.

When she let him go, Eddie, embarrassingly so, started weeping. With Maggie, it felt like he had an actual mom. She was an example of what a real mother should be like, just wanting her child to be safe, but also wanting to encourage them to go out in the world. With the Tozier’s, Eddie felt loved.

Wentworth was the one who taught him how to ride his bike. Eddie’s mom didn’t want him to hurt himself so she refused to even buy him a bike, but then Eddie had gotten so mad that Richie would taunt him with his bike riding skills, that Wentworth had gone ahead and bought him a bike too, practicing with him for weeks until Eddie felt ready to ride by himself. He must have tested Wentworths patients an insane amount, considering Richie didn’t even need a week to try it all by himself, but Wentworth never made Eddie feel bad about it, he always allowed him to take things at his own pace without calling him out for it.

When Sonia found out that Eddie could ride his bike without four wheels, she had gotten absolutely furious, storming over to Richie’s house and berating both Maggie, Wentworth and Richie for endangering such a delicate boy.

It was the first time Eddie had ever seen Maggie angry. She hid it well, she was way to respectable to start screaming or attacking anyone, but Eddie could read her eyes, so much alike Richie’s, spit fire as Sonia kept railing to them. The vein in her neck was throbbing wildly.

When Eddie had finally been able to go out again after being on house arrest for two weeks, for learning how to be a big boy for crying out loud, Maggie had pulled him into the kitchen, promising Eddie that he wasn’t as delicate as his mother pretended he was.

He had been terrified that he wouldn’t be welcome in the Tozier home after the performance his mother had given, but luckily neither Maggie nor Wentworth ever mentioned it again, going on with business as usual. Everyone forget about the incident expect Richie, who took amply opportunities to tease Eddie for the way his mother had behaved. All in good fun of course, Richie could never hurt Eddie intentionally, he just found it funny.

So yeah, Eddie was pretty sure that the Toziers liked him when he was growing up, but things were different now. He wasn’t a helpless kid who needed protection from his mom anymore, and he changed, a lot, even though Richie always insisted that most of him stayed the same.

Not to mention, this was the first time Eddie would go over to their house as their son - in – law. Richie and him had gotten married the day Eddie’s divorce finalized, without any preparation whatsoever. It had been a spur of the moment decision, but one Eddie had yet to feel any regret over.

Except maybe for the fact that Richie was wearing one of his Hawaiian shirts, but if Eddie was being truly honest, it was so Richie he couldn’t help but feel endeared when he looked at the picture taken with utter precision.

Beverly was taking pictures that day, while Mike looked over her shoulder every move, trying to give advice on which angles she should shoot, only to annoy Bev to the point her hand started shaking and the photo’s appeared shaky. Eddie liked those the best. Everytime Eddie recalled the wedding day, a huge smile he couldn’t hide, or even bother to hide, took over his face.

Eddie’s first wedding with Myra had taken months to prepare, and even then most everything went wrong. The bands lead singer they had hired was sick, several of their guests cancelled, and the food was either too cold or burned. The entire day Eddie was sick with indecision, not even sure he was going to say yes until right before the vows.

His second wedding, the one where he actually wanted to get married, he had no anxiety or apprehension whatsoever. The only thing strumming through Eddie’s veins was eagerness to commit to the man who helped him be brave, to the man who he loved even when he hadn’t remembered him.

Because it had been such a spur decision, the only people that had been there for the actual wedding and the reception afterwards, were the losers. Richie hadn’t even thought of inviting his parents, simply for they lived too far away to make it in time. Besides, Richie had argued later, he wasn’t thinking of anything except Eddie anyway.

Maggie and Wentworth didn’t even know the two of them were engaged, although to be fair, they hadn’t been. Eddie wonders if they feel upset that they didn’t get to watch their only child marry someone, but Richie assured him that when he did get in contact with them and told them, they had been nothing short of thrilled. Still, Eddie wasn’t sure that that wasn’t a façade they put up to spare Richie’s feelings.

Though Eddie is highly strung with nerves; snapping at every little annoying thing Richie did, which he no doubt would feel terribly ashamed off after thing inevitably turn out alright, the lime green color of the front door also gives him a feeling of internal peace, because more than his own house, this house felt like coming home.

It’s a warm day, humid in a way that causes Richie’s hair to curl up even more, the efforts of Eddie to rearrange it neatly clearly being futile. Eddie tries again, regardless, but just as he predicted the hair flops back up as soon as he takes his hand away.

Richie laughs, and it fills Eddie’s body with something he can’t describe, maybe doesn’t want to think about too much, but it feels good, it feels enchanting, as if he just can’t get enough of things that remind him of Richie.

The weather does nothing to prevent Eddie from shivering, but that could be attributed to fact that he was back in Derry. He overheard Richie on the phone, trying to convince his parents to come to LA instead of the other way around, but Maggie had stayed firm, claiming that she wanted to cook their favorite dishes, just like she did when they were kids.

Eddie figured that Maggie sometimes got lonely, so she was trying to relive a better time, to which Eddie could relate. Sure, he had to live with his mother when he was a kid, but there had been good times too, and he missed the days when all he had to worry about was how he was going to trick his mother into letting him with his friends.

‘You look like a hobo’, Eddie teases, trying a last time to flatten his hair, before admitting defeat with a huff.

‘Yeah? Well you married a hobo then’, Richie replies easily, their teasing bringing a certain spark into his eyes. Eddie can’t get enough of it.

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he does so, and watches as Richie rings the bell twice. He always rings it twice apparently, it’s a code, so that his parents know that it’s him. That way, if somebody annoying was trying to talk to them, Maggie knew not to open it.

Richie turns back to Eddie instantly, opening his mouth to say something, probably more words of encouragement, and Eddie opens his mount as well, ready to retaliate what he knows are just empty promises, but before he can, the door swings open.

It’s Maggie that opened the door, she’s clutching a wooden spoon in her hand, and a pot in the other. She looks ecstatic. ‘Went’, she calls out before carelessly shoving the pan onto a wooden table near the door, storming up towards Richie.

She looks older than when Eddie last saw her, which is obviously a given, but her energy that she radiates has remained the same, Eddie remarks. She has grey hair now, which is sticking in a bun with peaks of hair hanging loosely to the side, and she is smiling vibrantly.

‘Richie, oh my god look at you. You look so much taller.’ Richie scoffs jokingly, pulling back but not getting very far, because Maggie makes sure to clutch him tight regardless.

‘I do not, besides you saw me like a year ago.’

Maggie levels him with a strict look. ‘Indeed I did, which is way too long Richard.’

Eddie can’t help himself, he laughs as softly as he can, placing his hand in front of his mouth trying to muffle it. He remembers a time when every time the name ‘Richard’ was called, Richie knew he was in trouble.

Maggie perks up at the sound of his muffled laughter, wrenching away from Richie to instead pull Eddie into a firm hug.

‘Oh Eddie, you’re still as handsome as you used to be.’

He sees and hears Richie snort at Maggie statement, but he is too consumed with gratitude towards her, he doesn’t bother scolding him.

He missed her, subconsciously even when he left Derry, but he did, so he takes full advantage of the opportunity to hug her back.

When she leans back, she cups his face in her hands. Her hands are soft and are more delicate, especially compared to Richie’s hands. The only people who Eddie never had a problem with touching him are those two. Even when he was married to Myra, he recoiled whenever she tried to be in his proximity, but back then he had just written it off as him not being an affectionate person.

When he got his memory back, he realized that that was not the case. Richie and him touch all the time, to the point were Eddie’s pretty sure the losers are sick and tired of them.

A strong, significant smell carries through the door, and the exact moment Maggie takes notice of it, she frantically turns around and rushes back into the house. ‘My turkey,’ she explains over her shoulder, leaving the door open so Eddie and Richie can join her.

Richie grasps for Eddie’s hand, not caring that it’s sweaty and as Eddie would describe it, disgusting. He never does, never thinks anything about Eddie is disgusting.

‘Told you’, he singsongs as the two pass the threshold and enter the house, where the smell is even more persistent. He’s gloating, because on the way over, all he was talking about to Eddie was how much his parents were going to love him, as they did before, but Eddie didn’t want to believe him.

Eddie rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder against Richie’s he’s silent warning of stop fucking talking.

They find Richie’s dad in the living room, seated in an old massage chair with his leg propped up on it, and a newspaper in his hands. He’s trying to be casual about it, pretending that even the slightest of his attention is on his paper, but Eddie can tell he’s taking the both of them with a very precise look.

Eddie feels the urge to take his hand out of Richie’s, because it makes him feel a little self-conscious. Years of experience of hiding away his true emotions does that to a person he supposes. If Eddie thinks about it, he’s pretty sure that even if for some reason Richie had confessed to him, and it would have had to be Richie, since there was no way little Eddie would have ever confessed under any circumstances, he still wouldn’t have been comfortable enough to do this with Richie.

It’s maddening, how much power this town and his mother really had on him, and specifically on the way he viewed himself. He hates himself when he thinks about it, but changes were that if Richie would have confided in him about him being gay, Eddie might have tried to stay as far away from him as possible.

Being back in Derry forces those repulsing thoughts and sensations back to the surface, and Eddie doesn’t want to entertain the thought of them. He wants to leave his past behind him, and he wishes it was as simple as carving out the parts he didn’t want to carry with him, but unfortunately it doesn’t work like that. He’s seen it first hand when his mother died and he married someone like her regardless.

Just before he takes his hand out of Richie’s, the grip strengths, and Richie kisses the top of his head rapidly. Eddie splutters, all at once locking up and fearfully glancing at where Wentworth was siting, extremely fearful of his reaction.

He doesn’t have one. Not really anyway. He does put away the paper though, no longer pretending to be interested in it.

‘Hey son.’ Went leans forward in the chair, puffs as if takes all of his energy to even do that, and then straightens up.

‘Went.’ Richie nods in acknowledgment, a smirk playing on his lips. He then turns his body sideways so that he’s angled in Eddie’s direction, yet he keeps his face pointed towards his dad. ‘Dad, this is my husband. His name is Eddie. I know you’ve never met him before, but I would have been a wanker if I didn’t marry this fair madden straight away.’ Richie is using his stupid British accent that he has perfected over the years, he’s gotten amazingly good at it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t use it at any turn to annoy Eddie.

‘Well, I’m chuffed you found yourself someone to marry with, I was beginning to you’d never find someone.’

Eddie is stunned into silence as he watches father and son due grin at each other in delight, Went following Richie along with his own version of the British voice. In a way it makes sense that Richie would have gotten the voice from somewhere, yet Eddie never associated it with anyone else, just with Richie.

‘I don’t know how we do it every day.’ It’s Maggie, carrying a tray with an assortment of appetizer, every single one looking healthier than the one before. A small part of him feels smug, knowing that Richie has no choice but to eat some of it, even if he never would eat something as healthy as that on his own, but the biggest part feels guilty, for not helping Maggie cook, and for not coming to visit them sooner.

He can think of a dozen things to reply to that, some more appropriate then others. His first instinct is to make a joke and deflect. Despite the fact that he loves Richie more than he has ever loved anyone ever, it still cause him a lot of hardship to confess that whenever he wants too. He can sense the horrendous beast that is jealousy rising up again, threatening to tear him apart with confliction because he refuses to pay it any mind, but it forces his attention merciless.

He tries so hard to normalize his relationship, for just because him and Richie are two men, does not mean they are any less in love in comparison to a man and woman.

Fear still suffocates him from time to time, and in those moments it seems like all of his efforts to overcome it are in vain. He begs to whatever god is listening that Richie has enough with Eddie showing him how much he adores him in the confinements of their home, since Eddie can never seem to get over himself and show affection in public.

He’s scared now too, but then he thinks back to Went’s reaction to Richie’s joke, and how normal his responds had been, and Eddie deflects from making a joke.

‘Because we love them,’ he says instead, hearing the way his own voice shakes with reluctance, but he does mean the words, fully and holy, so he repeats it more firmly.

Maggie nods her head and places her arm with care over Eddie’s shoulder while nodding.

‘That we do. That we do.’

----

All in all, Eddie would say that the night has been a success. His anxiety had been unjustified, what a surprise, and he found himself relaxing more and more as the night prolonged. He allowed the occasional touches of Richie as long as it stayed PG, and even granted him a small peck when Richie said he would only help with the dishes if he did so.

Maggie squalled in delight, thanking Eddie for making her son less of a slob, although the fond look in her eyes gave away that she was never that she never found that too off-putting in the first place.

By the time dessert comes, Eddie has let his guard down without thinking twice about it, but alas, of course something was bound to go wrong. It’s not that bad perse, but the second Maggie mentions Eddie’s mother, the entire table falls into an awkward silence, after Richie hastily shushed his mother.

It’s just an innocent question, about how Sonia was doing, but she has always been a sore subject, so much so that Eddie and Richie barely talk about it themselves. Eddie knows that his mother isn’t a good person, she proved that herself time and time again, but it’s not easy to talk bad about your own mother. She had many flaws, but she also raised Eddie, and shaped him into the person he has become. Richie and him had a massive fight, once over her, where Richie accused Eddie of making excuses for her, and Eddie had gotten so worked up over that statement, that he had rented a hotel room for the night and stayed there.

His mother is a sore subject, and it’s complicated, which sounds like a load of bullshit, but is still the truth. She is dead though, and that for Eddie is reason enough to not dive deeper into that subject, choosing instead to let that be for what it is, focusing himself on the things that he does have control over.

Yet when Maggie asks, it doesn’t make his skin crawl with the need of changing the subject, in fact, he craves to talk about her for a little while, which is something he has never said or thought before. He can’t figure out why he wants to, only that he does.

Richie clears his throat, trying to change the subject, but Went places a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention. ‘Help me get some more drinks out of the basement?’ It very clearly a statement, but Richie still gazes at Eddie questionly, as if to make sure Eddie would be okay if he left the room. When Eddie gives him an affirmative, Richie follows his father, leaving Eddie and Maggie by themselves in the dining room. He takes the offer that Maggie has provided, and starts talking.

‘She died a few years ago actually.’

Maggie instantly looks horrified, and Eddie sees her trying to scramble for a way to backtrack, to apologize to him even though she did nothing wrong.

He interrupts her before she can try. ‘It’s fine. Really, it’s not. It’s not like you could have known. I don’t talk about her much.’

He can see the sympathy in her eyes, but it’s not condescending in any way or shape. It just is, like the way Richie looked at him when he was recovering in the hospital after being impaled and he would hiss if a movement hurt too much. They want to help, in an actual way, not the way Sonia did.

Maggie reaches across the table to hold Eddie’s hand for a minute. ‘You can talk about her if you want? Did you, Would you have invited her to the wedding if she were here?’

He can sense the under lying question, the one she’s reluctant to ask. Would she have accepted you as gay? The answer is simple, no. She would have hated him, every single pore of him, but she wouldn’t have dropped him. She might have tried to get him to go to a conversion camp, or maybe a psychiatry, or perhaps she would have just twisted the situation to get him to marry a woman, which is what she did with Myra, but the last thing she would have done was accept him.

When he doesn’t answer for a beat, Maggie continues to prod carefully. ‘She was an old school woman Eddie, maybe if she would have been born in a different time it would have been different.’

Except Eddie knows that it wouldn’t have been. He’s mother hurt him on purpose, and made him think he was sick even when he wasn’t, she did her best to scare him so he would listen to her, and that had nothing to do with the time she was born in.

He shrugs at Maggie. ‘It doesn’t matter. You accepted Richie. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and think to myself that I’m an idiot. That I’m sick and I need to get help, because she taught me that.’ Eddie’s eyes begin to sting bitterly, but he refuses to shed another tear for a woman that is no longer alive to even gloat about it. Maggie watching him, sensing that he’s not ready and allowing him to take his time to say what he needs to, like a real mother.

‘But then Richie wakes up, and there’s this moment where the light just falls perfectly and his glasses make a stupid rainbow or something. Or when he annoys me so much by saying something stupid I could kill him, or when I see him caring about others and I get hit with this overwhelming sense of love for him, and then I realize, that it doesn’t matter what she said, because she has no idea what love was truly like.’

‘She thought loving someone entailed keeping that person in your sight 24 hours a day, and locking them up to ‘protect them’. Or convincing someone that they can’t do something because they’re too weak, even when you know for a fact that they’re not but you’re just scared.’

Eddie shakes his head to clear his thoughts, looking up at Maggie while throwing her an embarrassed smile. ‘I never really had a mom that loved me, but now I have Richie and I’m so happy I do. He makes my life better by being in it, and I’m so thankful for that. And it isn’t always that easy, some days I can’t stop thinking about all the things my mother said, but Richie accept those days, and loves me all the same.’

Maggie looks close to tears, still holding one of Eddie’s hands in her own, with a sturdy grip. ‘Well’, she sniffles, ‘You do have a mom that loves you now.’

It’s only nine words, but they cause Eddie to burst out into tears anyway, feeling like a complete and utter idiot. He’s happy though, and the fact that he was doubting coming here seems so absurd now.

‘Thank you’, he whispers, as if the words are supposed to be a secret, but he doesn’t want to break the atmosphere of love and acceptance they have. Then Richie walks back in with Went, and it burst like a bell bubble Richie always wants to pop as if he’s two years old.

‘Oh does Eddie Spaghetti need a tissue?’

‘Seriously shut the fuck up Richie.’

#reddie #reddie imagine #My writing #it chapter two imagine #maggie tozier #wentworth tozier #the loser club imagines #fluff I guess #also angst a little little bit #idk even know what this shit writing is but whatever here have it 😂😂

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gayenerd · 4 years ago

Text

Green Day Deals with the "Rock Star" Dookie

by Tom Lanham

(First appeared in BAM Magazine, March 10, 1995)

Young, loud, and snotty equals beaucoup bucks? What pencil-pushing, graph-charting trend spotter could've predicted it? But the facts speak for themselves: As of late February, Dookie--the brattish, snap 'n' snarl Reprise salvo from Berkeley's sloppy punk trio, Green Day--has sold six million copies. Six million. Chances are, somebody on your block is jumping up and down in his living room at this very moment to the scrap-metal power chords and ardent apathy of "Longview," "Burnout," "Basket Case," or "When I Come Around" and getting lost in the teen abandon of these testy 22-year-olds--weasel-voiced, Montgomery-Clift-like charismatic singer/guitarist Billie Joe; tom-tom tribal percussionist Tre Cool (of the ever-morphing hair-color fame); and bassist Mike Dirnt (who survived Green Day's appearance at Woodstock '94, although several of his teeth did not).

Yes, punk rock is a marketable phenomenon these days, leaving many involved with the music's initial late-'70s, early-'80s wave scratching their heads, wondering why it didn't take the first time around. Public reaction started as curiosity ("Hey, honey, c'mere and lookit these goofy, green-haired little whippersnappers in an insane asylum on MTV!"), but spiraled up to rock-diet necessity (Green Day just won Grammy and they're nominated for quite a few Bammies as well, including such categories as Outstanding Group, Outstanding Album, and Outstanding Song--"Longview" and "Basket Case"). The fact that they've been nominated at all probably sends a shiver up the old dinosaur backbones of Eddie Money, Huey Lewis, and Boz Scaggs, a time-creepy feeling of "Gee, what the hell do we do now?" Because this isn't just some flash-in-the-pan punk movement, folks--this is a youth movement; Green Day are, as they hiply term it, "bored in the 'burbs," and reaching out, through TV and radio, like some prodigal preachers to other American kids who sense the same slacker ennui. Obviously, we're talking truckloads of kids.

Ironically, the more fame edges into the Green Day ruffians' lives, the more mature they seem to become. They've turned down all interview requests as of late, even People magazine, preferring to lay low until this tide of interest recedes. Billie Joe got married last autumn, and spent his honeymoon--not in any exotic, expensive locale--but in Berkeley's grand old Claremont Hotel. Cool recently became a father, and Billie Joe's child is due any day now. It's a responsibility they've both eagerly undertaken. Rob Cavallo, the boys' coproducer and A&R man at Reprise, swears they're "old souls, the smartest young kids I've ever met." It rings true.

The first time I spoke with Green Day, in January of '94, Cool, Dirnt, and Billie Joe were lazing around their dingy basement apartment in Berkeley, sitting on chairs and couches with potentially painful springs poking through. Rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards were scattered across a coffee table, along with several bongs of various sizes, plus a four-and-a-half foot red plastic pipe dubbed "Bongzilla" leaned against a doorway. The only wall decoration, besides a Ren & Stimpy poster, was a Twister game mat nailed up in its entirety, presumably for high-schoolish humor's sake.

When I'd met Billie Joe a few months earlier at a campus concert, his hair was dyed lime-green and featured squidlike tufts. Now it was dark brown, with only two tufts remaining, and both his ears and nose had piercings. Periodically during the interview, he'd ram a finger into that pierced nostril, rummage around, then stare idly at the resultant booger before flicking it on to the carpet. Cool wandered out of the rec room for several minutes, but returned, red-eyed, to proudly proclaim, "Lookit me! I'm stoned, dude!" Dirnt--when he wasn't strumming an acoustic guitar--kept watching their windowsill Sea Monkey tank, finally noting, "Hey, these Sea Monkeys look just like sperm!"

Despite all these schoolboy, poo-poo wit trappings (dookie, after all, is kiddie slang for excrement), there was a sense of seasoned wisdom about them, a feeling that they were, as Cavallo postulated, truly old souls. Like the class clown who frustrates all of his teachers by also maintaining a 4.0 grade average, Green Day can afford to play because their work--brilliantly skewed three-minute pop songs, delivered with such vehemence and vitriol you don't dare doubt them--certainly speaks for itself. But, sooner or later, of course, the band has to speak for itself, too, so what follows is a set of excerpts from that first ratty-digs meeting, as well as a later chat with Billie Joe, sans sidekicks. How did Green Day take over the rock world in less than a year? That's the six-million-copy question, and hopefully we'll provide a few answers.

* * *

So punk is back, whether America likes it or not?

BILLIE JOE: It's always been around, and everyone has their own interpretation of it. It's weird to actually call it "punk" again, when it's been there all the time.

MIKE DIRNT: It's been springing up in little suburban areas, where people grab it and express themselves.

TRE COOL: It's people who make a point of setting aside all responsibilities and just playing music. And doing fat joint after fat joint--you have to let go of things like paying rent, going to school, having a job.

BJ: And, if you can't tell by my house, we don't have a very high standard of living.

How does today's punk rock differ from its late-'70s cousin?

BJ: I think it was all about art and fashion back then, really, because everyone who was a punk in England was in art school. I read an early interview with Dee Dee Ramone, where he said he wished the Ramones had more of a glamorous appeal, too, instead of playing in jeans and leather jackets. But it was definitely about fashion, until the Clash really brought out the political side. Our music came from being bored in the 'burbs. You get put in this high school situation, where you're learning someone else's rules in a room with 30 other people that you don't really like. There's nothing interesting about it whatsoever, so you pick up a guitar instead.

But you all tried college, at least for awhile, right?

MD: And then we started touring. Constantly.

TC: So most of our reading now comes from highway signs.

MD: It's the old grasshopper and the ant story. The thought of actually working is just so...

TC: Sickening!

MD: Yeah. So we put everything we had into not working. This is what I do best, and I was always told, "If you're gonna do something, do it the best you can." So why not do the best thing you can, too?

You guys--at least Mike and Billie Joe--have known each other since you were 10?

BJ: And the first conversation we ever had was about writing songs. And then we just started playing music.

A lot of the stuff on your early Lookout! records shows what was on your mind at the time--namely, girls.

BJ: That was pretty much the viewpoint of a 16-year-old kid. I don't write stuff like that anymore. The new songs are more about coming of age and being apathetic and neurotic.

Where were your parents when you were touring [at age 16]?

MD: At work, doing their own thing.

BJ: My mom's worked a waitress job for like the past 40 years or something, and whatever I was doing was OK with her.

MD: I moved out when I was 15, and I worked all the way through high school.

BJ: And me, I've never held a job longer than two weeks. I tried to flip pizzas--it didn't work. I tried cleaning toilets in the Red Onion in El Sobrante. Me and TrŽ, we used to work for the SF Chronicle, selling papers. I sold three the first day, and the next day we just smoked pot, and we smoked pot the next day after that. So we had hella extra papers lying around. Our ultimate goal wasn't to get rich or famous or anything like that. It was to not have a regular job and not be miserable.

MD: And I've lived in every city around here, except for Albany. Literally. And one thing we want to establish about ourselves is that we're just a bunch of geeks from the suburbs.

Well, one of the first times I saw you, you guys were closing your set with Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger." That's pretty geeky.

MD: I grew up on radio--that's all I had. When I was a little kid, I couldn't afford records. I'll tell you, I've been down to a dollar in my pocket a lot of times. I've even lived in my truck. I can remember shooting rats with a BB gun in the flat we used to live in, before they'd make it to our food.

BJ: I've always been really good about saving. If I got some money, I'd put it away instead of spending it, and I'd buy ramen.

Why name your disc Dookie?

TC: Warner's said we could do anything we want, as long as we didn't say "Cop Killer."

BJ: Somebody told our manager that the ad for it was the most tasteless thing they'd ever seen in Billboard magazine.

What exactly do you mean on Dookie by "Welcome to Paradise"?

BJ, MD, TC [in unison]: West Oakland!

MD: Living in West Oakland, and going out to parties every night.

So it cost, what, around $100,000 to make Dookie?

MD: Yeah. We kept the advances low, because you gotta pay all that shit back. Everyone knows you can't become an instant millionaire just by signing, because there are so many people that want a piece of you.

BJ: We hang out with mostly punks though, and they don't want anything we have. They could care less. And a lot of our friends don't even agree with us being on a major label.

Is Green Day angry?

BJ: No, I'm not angry, like, walking around all the time with a frown on my face. But the way my music is interpreted is very angry.

MD: When you feel really strongly about something, you want to let it out in the most powerful way possible.

Like the way you baited your old high school principal from the Warfield stage recently?

MD: I think he was an asshole. He treated me with no respect. And for high school initiation, we got our heads shaved--that's the kind of small-town shit we had to deal with! Sometimes they made you push a penny up the street with your nose. But that's life, and anywhere you go, you're gonna hate a lot of shit in your life. You'll be handed

Dookie?

MD: Yeah. Yeah, you'll be handed dookie through all parts of your life. And see, what you need to do is just deal with the dookie, build upon what you have, and make something out of the dookie, you know? Like an adobe dookie building!

* * *

Several months later, and Dookie is oozing its gooey way into the public consciousness big time. The fading summer heat sticks crackling to the Berkeley sidewalks as punks--many sporting monstrous green or fuchsia mohawks--zing by on skateboards by day, and huddle in Telegraph Avenue doorways by night, conserving feral body heat the whole time. It feels like another world here, a throwback to the Bay Area's DIY/hardcore scene of the early '80s, when squatters reigned supreme and burlesque Broadway--fueled by all-ages shows at the Mabuhay Gardens, On Broadway, and even an occasional GBH or UK Subs booking at the Stone--made weekend conversions to "Punk Playground, USA." It was the best of times; it was the worst of times--despite relentless touring, most of these bands sold bupkus in the way of records, and few, save Metallica, ever held pen in shaky hand over a major-label contract.

Billie Joe saunters into the Berkeley coffeehouse in rumpled jeans and a grease-spattered flannel shirt; his once-green-and-tufty tresses have grown out into Wally Cleaver waves and been dyed a Rod Stewarty blond. He looks like one of those feisty punks of yore; like he could hold his own through sheer physical endurance in the wildest of thrash pits. There's a new authority about him, the way he strides confidently to the counter, orders a pint-size glass of coffee, then swims through a sea of late-lunching yuppies to grab a table. The singer doesn't seem to notice them at all. Or maybe he's just too tired from nonstop touring to really give a shit. He smiles a goofy grin, revealing a set of generally crooked or chipped choppers, with an entire half of one front tooth missing. But there's such charisma behind it, the same kind of "Who, me?" innocence that little kids use. Billie Joe, you might say, has quickly become the Bart Simpson of the alternative set.

How else could you explain his uncensored performance at a certain outdoor arena where--in a hyperspeed set lasting only 30 minutes before management threatened to pull the plug--he a) unzipped his fly and paraded his privates around for all to see; b) handed a stunned fan his beat-up, sticker-plastered guitar and urged him to play it; c) destroyed a $600 microphone by smashing it into the stage, then destroyed a second mike he was handed as well; and d) encouraged half the venue to chant, "Rock 'n' roll!" and the other half to respond with, "Shut the fuck up!" He then closed the show with a proposition--"They'll be really angry with us, but what we could do is rip out the seats!" he told the audience, which promptly gave Green Day a standing ovation. Billie Joe not only shrugs off such shenanigans as artistic license, he gets away with them! He's even encouraged to continue by fans who empathize with his uppity "fuck authority" attitude.

But the facts were all on the table as Billie Joe sipped his house blend that afternoon, and it didn't take a fortune teller to read 'em. Green Day was hitting big time. Fast. And the sheer enormity of the undertaking, the weight of all its accordant responsibility, was just beginning to hit him. He looked older, wiser, and spoke in more grownup tones about his future, which then included a pending marriage to longtime girlfriend Adrienne. You could practically feel this new maturity encircling him like some protective aura.

* * *

=Where do all these punks on Telegraph come from? They can't all be local and homeless.

I think Telegraph has just become this cultural mecca for punk rockers, because most of 'em who are on the Avenue aren't even from here. They're from Arizona, Minneapolis, New York, Florida. They just come out and end up squatting in houses in Berkeley. Why here? It's the climate, and the scene itself--Gilman Street and Maximum Rock 'n' Roll are in this area, and have a link to each other. But at the same time, it's separated, because there are so many different factions of punk now. There are the squatters, the pop-cores, the mods, the crusties. And all these types of people come out just to check it out. Plus, there's the best coffee in Berkeley, and a lot of 'em are real super coffee-drinkers, just pounding cup after cup all the time. It's pretty rare to come across a punk who doesn't drink coffee. I can't drink too much coffee myself--it gives me the shakes at night, so I just have a little bit during the day. Then I can smoke dope and go to bed.

=What's the attraction in squatting or homelessness for these kids?

For a lot of 'em, it's the first sense of freedom that they've had. It's like, "You mean I don't have to be home by midnight?" They've pretty much told their families and schools to go fuck themselves, so they go off and do their own thing. When I was 17, I did the same thing. And I had this total sense of freedom, where no one's telling you what to do, you don't have a clock to punch in on, you don't have people breathing down your neck; you don't have any deadlines to meet. You have this endless schedule where you can stay up all night drinking with your friends, or do anything you want.

=But isn't "Coming Clean" about leaving behind your wilder ways?

It's also about coming to grips with your sexuality. There's one line, "Skeletons come to life in my closet." And it's like, "Am I homosexual or heterosexual?" You go through this adolescent stage in your life where you don't really know what you are, and one side is taboo because your parents brought you up to think being gay was wrong. And if you come to grips with yourself, that you happen to be gay or bi or whatever, well, that was one thing about punk that was so accepting--all creeds were welcome, all sexualities, everything.

=Was this something you went through personally?

Yeah, to a certain extent. But I don't want to go around waving a gay flag or anything.

=Well, you had a beautiful girl on your arm backstage at the last Green Day show.

That's Adrienne. She's cool. Actually, we're engaged. That's why it took me so long getting here today--I had to get this! [Rolls sleeve up on tattooed arm, points to a bandaged-on cotton swab] Blood test, dude! We're getting married next week!

=Has anybody tried to tell you you're too young for such a serious move?

Of course. There are a lot of people who've said stuff. My parents have been a little more understanding than her parents. I just called my mom yesterday and said, "Mom, I'm gettin' married," and she said, "That's fine, son. Have fun!" I can hardly surprise my mother nowadays. But [this relationship] has been a recurring thing for the past four years, and we just decided to get serious about it. She's coming out here, and we're moving in together, so it's like, "Why not?" I don't really have any wild oats to sow, or anything like that. I'm not into the "Gettin' chicks all the time" thing.

=I know a lot of girls who'll be really bummed that you're gittin' hitched. They all seem to have developed a crush on you...

Me?! It must be the teeth [grins again].

=OK, so maybe you didn't brush often enough when you were young. But you were busy developing a direction...

I wouldn't necessarily say I had a direction or anything. I just knew I wanted to write songs. It comes from...uh...I don't know. I have no idea. It wasn't any kind of cosmic force or anything like that; it was just a matter of having a guitar around and wanting to play it all the time. I've had the same guitar since I was 11--I bought it off this guy at a guitar store. And I still play it--you know, the blue one with stickers all over it? That's my blue guitar, and, for some reason, things come to life, and everyone calls it "Blue" now--"Where's Blue? Can I pick up Blue and play it?"

=And you let just anybody touch it?

Oh yeah! Blue's not prejudiced.

=It's interesting to note that the general public seems to think Dookie is your debut.

Yeah, but that's just the general public. There are people who've been with us since the beginning, who know how long we've been around, since our first 7-inch came out back in '89.

=And now you can afford to trash pricey microphones.

Actually, Warner Brothers paid for those. It was pretty nice of 'em. They looked really nice--I remember looking at 'em and thinking, "Nice microphones!" They gave me one mike and I took it and threw it down, and they gave me another, and at the end of the set I creamed it pretty hard, I guess. We toured Europe with this band Die Toten Hosen--we played nine dates with 'em--and we got charged for a microphone every night. I dunno, for some reason we just started smashing shit. We'd start throwing equipment around at the end of each set, and these kids would start grabbing Tre's drum set and throwing it, and then they started smashing the microphones too. And the bouncers just couldn't do anything about it.

=And you actually yanked your dick out onstage too?

I did. Totally. It was the real thing. I dunno. The bands that we were playing with were just boring. It was more like making a mockery of the whole thing. The big arena rock thing is just so dated now, like Journey or Queen. Which is why I think punk rock started to begin with--it was this reaction to all the dinosaur bands. So for me, that show was, "How can we make a complete mockery of this but at the same time have fun with it?" I like to leave people guessing, "Did he hate that or did he like that?" It's not that I don't care--it's more that I'm careless. I try to be as happy-go-lucky as I can, but you can become apathetic at the same time.

=Do you feel like Green Day is a part of, or represents, the so-called "slacker generation"?

There's one side of me that doesn't mind it, because it's a generational thing, and another side of me that says, "Fuck that!" The reason I wrote the songs is, I ended up going back to Rodeo, where I'm from, for a week. And then I said, "Fuck it," and left. But I managed to get several good songs out of it. A lot of my friends had just turned into complete burnouts. And these are kids I've known since kindergarten, because it's a small town and you know everybody. And it was all fixing cars, staying up all night on methamphetamines, smoking dope, and finding out all these rumors about people I haven't heard of in 10 years. Like, "Oh, did you hear about so-and-so, who got married, had three kids, and ended up shooting everybody in his family?" And it happened! It was a true story! You're there for one week, and you get caught up in it. You get so bored, all you wanna do is watch television. And there are no record stores, nothing around, so you end up hanging out with all these delinquents who aren't punkers at all, just cultural idiots. So I was watching all these people rot and rotting with them until I realized, "Shit! I gotta get the fuck outta here!"

=As they say, you can never go home again.

Oh yeah, definitely. Unless you get pregnant, like my sister did. Then you have to go. But I quit school my senior year--I just wasn't getting anything out of it. I was taking nine periods a day, plus night classes, which left me no time to smoke dope whatsoever. And my mom even suggested I drop out, because she was a dropout, too. I come from a long line of dropouts. I still have nightmares about being late with my homework assignments. When I finally went in to sign out of high school, the teacher went, "Now, who are you again?"

=And if that teacher could see you now!

A lot of people think you get this big connection with a corporate label, and you make millions of dollars, but they don't understand that you just don't make that much money. And when you do, it's easy to piss it away. I mean, every cent that I've made, I've pissed away. I'm not gonna say how I did it, but I don't have it But I don't think you necessarily have to be a punk to decide to say, "Fuck it." You don't even have to have a direction. It's just a matter of getting the fuck out and exploring things for yourself.

=But didn't you feel abject terror when you first set out on your own?

Nah, I didn't. Because, for some reason, I knew things were gonna be all right. You can create your own future as long as karma's on your side. And I'm a strong believer in karma. I think things can come back to you if you're just willing to give.

* * *

True enough. At least six million times over!

1995 Tom Lanham

#article #interview #articles #billie joe armstrong

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funkymeihem-fiction · 5 years ago

Text

Honeydew Cha

(A 5k commission done for https://pandaioh.tumblr.com/ Thank you so much for your support!)

“Can’t believe this. Can’t even bloody believe this. Thought I was dating the smartest girl in the world, and here I come t’find out she doesn’t even know what ‘vacation’ means.” Junkrat wrinkled his nose, already smeared in sunscreen and dented by his oversized sunglasses. “Well here’s what it means, love. It means fucking off! We’ve fucked off from Overwatch and finally got time all to us here in Oz. It means we got weeks of leave for our very own pleasure, and we’re supposed to spend it drinking, rooting, or at the beach. It’s supposed to be those four things!”

“That’s three things,” Mei’s voice said from behind the changing screen.

“And here I am, ready for bonding at Bondi and this is how you do me! I’ve already got all our things- towels, blankets, umbrella, esky. Even got my trunks and hat and thong on—”

“Your what on?”

“My shoe, Mei! You know, pluggers, flip-flop shoes. I mean, with the peg I only have the one. Did you think I meant the other kind of thong? Because ‘strewth, I’ll go put one of those on too, if it’ll get you to come to the beach with me!”

“Please do not!” She made no move to come out from the screen and seemed unmoved by his fits. “Besides, I told you I wanted to do other things than just lounge at the beach all day. I got the idea when we were out walking the other night and I think this might be really good for me. And I think you’ll change your tune when I tell you the rest of my plans.”

“What’s to tell? You snuck out and got a bloody job while we’re on vacation at the shore! Got this nice vacay cabin all to ourselves, just steps away from the surf and sand, and you’re not gonna appreciate it. My very fave girl is on holiday with me, and she wants to spend it working?! And they say I’m the mad one?”

Her voice gained a sing-song quality, lilting in tone. “I still think you’re going to liiiiike it! Just give me one more moment and you’ll see.”

“Unless you’re coming out of there with surprise lacies on, I doubt I’m gonna—”

The screen shuffled aside and Junkrat squinted, suddenly unsure about things. Mei definitely was not wearing a brand new set of lingerie all for him, but what she was wearing was certainly enough to give him pause. He recognized it almost at once too: the green sweater vest and matching visor, the little ruffled yellow apron, the polka dot socks, the cheerful winking mascot…and those jean shorts that rode up so high on those nice wide thighs were certainly nothing to be ignored, he especially appreciated that particular part of her uniform. Her new job’s uniform.

“Honeydew Cha? You’re working at Honeydew Cha?” He lingered forward, rubbing at his chin and inspecting her. “Arright, love, you got me interested.”

“I told you!” She flashed him a little smirk. “And I know you might think it’s a little crazy to get a job while I’m on vacation, but… I think it might be good for me? I like spending time at the beach with you and Mr. Roadhog, I really do, but I want to do more than just linger around on the sand all day. I think I want to meet people and talk to everyone and learn new things and…” She suddenly faltered, gaze downcast. “And I used to be a tea waitress back while I was still studying. I remember it being really fun? And then I graduated and went away…and then I was…gone…nine years…”

Junkrat was already upon her, long arms wrapping about her new uniform and rumpling her nice green sweater as he nuzzled at her hair and snorted air into her ear with his pointed nose. She yelped aloud and pushed at him, but it had served to distract her. He plucked at her apron with his mechanical hand curiously. “Getting a job at all though? Is it because of money? I got cash to spare! Tell me what it is you need and I’ll get it! Whatever you want, darl!”

“It’s really not about money, honest. I just want to do something normal. I woke up and everything was so strange, and Overwatch was different and the world was different and the climate is getting worse and my friends are all in trouble and maybe it would be okay if I just did this for a little while and forgot about it all? I could serve tea and chat with customers and not worry about everything, and maybe I could feel like I used to, before everything happened. It’s just simple and nice. Like it could just be tapioca pearls and fruit poppers and people being happy drinking their tea and just being…normal. Does that make sense?”

“Nah,” he blurted out, before noticing her crestfallen expression. He frowned, chin jutting as he tilted his head to rest atop her visor. “I mean! Uh, I guess I dunno what all that’s like. But if that’s what ya wanna do? ‘Course I’m not gonna stop you from working. Just don’t understand why you wanna spend your vacation at work.”

“I like working. I think this will be fun. And this is just a little seasonal part-time sort of thing, just to help the shop for the big holiday vacationer rush. I saw the Help Wanted ad and the owner seemed really grateful for the extra hand. Plus…” She rolled onto the balls of her feet, folding her arms behind her and staring upward coyly. “I mean, if you don’t want me using the Honeydew Cha employee discount…?”

Rat gave her an affronted look before snickering aloud. “You trying to bribe me with free boba, you little tart?”

“Milk tea, half sweet, extra pearls! Just how you like it?”

“Huh. Tempting, tempting. Can I bring in my own container and fill ‘er up? Swear it, I’ll drink it straight out of a bucket. I mean, it would definitely not be the first time I’ve drank some stuff I found straight out of a bucket—”

“Ew, Jamie.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll try not t’let my feelings be hurt when I’m all by my lonesome at the beach. But I got conditions. One— you abuse the hell out of the free boba thing whenever we want. I’m talking Super Gulp American Size! Two— I get to fuck you in full honeydew uniform. With the pony and polka dot socks still on and everything.”

“That’s strange, but okay,” she said, pulling herself to the tips of her toes to kiss his chin. “But not right now, because I’m going in for my first shift! I’ll see you this evening, okay? And I’ll bring you a boba tea every night I work.”

“You better! You got a deal, darl!”

***

Serving boba tea and customer service was a lot different than how she remembered it. Maybe it was just being in Australia? Or had boba tea changed since then? Or had she just gotten older and everything really was just that different from however she remembered this job, from so many years ago. The customers seemed a little grumpier, the machines weren’t the ones she had learned to work, her co-workers were no longer the same age as her, and everything just seemed a little harder than what she’d thought.

She’d been at this little job at Honeydew Cha for a few weeks now, much to Junkrat’s irritation, but it was only for a few hours a day. He tended to lighten up a little when she placated him with a steady stream of all sorts of different tea flavors and treats every time he stopped by…and Roadhog hadn’t cared one way or the other, but she brought him entire bags of leftover pastries after the day was done and he always thanked her anyway. Even then, before each and every shift, Junkrat bothered her to drop everything and go to the beach with him.

But now their vacation time was dwindling and her side job was coming to a close anyway. At least she’d been able to help out the Honeydew Cha during its busiest season. There had been a steady stream of customers all afternoon as the temperature soared and overheated beach-goers ducked inside for air conditioning and cold drinks. Most of them had been quite pleasant, the Australian boardwalk crowd being so infamous for their laid-back attitudes and surf culture.

But there were always the outliers…

It was a group of six: five boys and a single girl, all in their teens or early twenties. None of them bore the mechanical limbs or robotic enhancements of the Outback’s junker clans, but something about their countenance made Mei just as wary of them. Their leader seemed to be the largest of them and was almost as tall as Junkrat himself, though built wider, with spiked black hair and a jacket despite the hot weather. The scraggly lone girl clung to him and giggled in his ear, whispering as he pulled out his wallet and counted out money for her tea. When Mei smiled at them and offered to take their order, the girl glared at her and pulled him closer.

They made their orders with no trouble and they paid, but Mei kept an eye on them all the same, as they loitered in one of the booths and talked and laughed too loudly. She could ignore them at first, but their conversation quickly turned crude and sexual in no time at all. Mei could do little but keep one ear out as she leaned down to check the syrup pumps and count their cups. As the group drained their boba and popped pearls between their teeth, things took a turn for the disgusting.

“Anyhow, that’s why I had to leave that party real fast. Turns out she had a boyfriend.”

“What, the scrag you went upstairs with? That was a fockin’ thing to walk in on. You going at it, with the fat one with the pockmarked arse?”

“Oi. Barely fatter than the ricer they got working the counter here, mate.”

Mei’s heart dropped, freezing mid-stack and staying very still for a moment. Her throat suddenly felt very tight, but she swallowed the feeling down and forced herself to move again, continuing to unpack the cups. So what if that group were being jerks over at that table. Jerks were temporary, and they’d be leaving soon. Those jerks. She just had to let it pass, and breathe, and ignore them…

The voices continued, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, Mei listened.

“She ain’t that bad for one. I’d fuck her. Nice big tits. Bigger tits than yours.”

“What the hell! Fuck you.”

“Ay, you’d fuck anything, mate. Even an omnic. Fuckin’ root rat.”

“Fuck off.”

“She’s prettier than the one at the slope shop on your road. Heh. Go ask her out on a date? Give her a tip and then give her the tip, ay! You can have kids that look like this.”

When Mei dared to peek through the little slit between the top and bottom counter, she already knew what she would see. Sure enough, the group were pulling their eyelids shut, pinching them upwards and making grotesque parodies of their faces. She felt her chest lurch again in a potent mixture of anger, sorrow, and even a tinge of pity. But how dare they! How dare they! She should march right over there and tell them off for being such bullies, for being so—

But could she risk it? The owner of the shop might get angry at her for antagonizing the customers, even the rude ones. And she had been having a nice time before that, just serving boba and treats like in the old days. She couldn’t let it get to her, no matter how awful they were being. Best to just wait them out until they left.

Unfortunately for her, they seemed to have no intention of leaving. They carried on, discussing loudly what sexual positions that they had planned for her and wondered as to her cup size. Mei did her best to stay out of sight, and wished she’d had Snowball and her endothermic blaster with her. That would shut them up, all right. Maybe if she built a new blaster very quickly out of the boba chiller in the back…?

“What about the other girl? The skinny ginger with the sunburn?” One of the boys wondered aloud.

Mei felt her temper flare anew, head jerking up to where said ‘sunburnt ginger’ was working unawares in front of a fruit slicing machine. That girl was one of her younger co-workers, still in her teens, a softspoken local who had admitted to Mei that she had hoped this job would help her get over her shyness. And now that group of boys was targeting her too.

“Wot, that one? Yeah, I seen her here before. No tits or arse on that one, though.”

“Wonder if she’s sunburnt all over? Heh.”

“You know what they say about gingers, mate? They say down th—”

CLACK.

She could ignore it when they targeted her, but she wasn’t about to let it happen to that girl or anyone else in her charge. Mei slammed the empty stack of cups onto the counter with a clatter, swinging open the little door as she went marching straight towards them as all heads turned her way. No matter her cheerfully goofy outfit with the frills and ruffles and polka dots, she descended on the group like a thunderstorm, her jaw set and her eyes narrowed.

“Tíng xiàlái! Excuse me but you need to stop this instant! These awful things you’re saying, you need to stop.” She tried to loom over them as best she could despite her height, little white gloves clenching into fists. “In fact, I think you need to leave! Right now!”

For a moment, silence reigned in the Honeydew Cha as every patient turned to watch the tiny woman in the bubble tea waitress uniform confront an entire pack of Aussie goons. Even the group seemed startled at first, though it rapidly changed to confusion, annoyance, and anger. The girl was the first to react, shooting her a sneering grin and urging the boys on as she wrapped her arms around the largest boy’s arm and shook him to action.

“Leave off, we haven’t done anything wrong! We don’t have to go anywhere!” she said.

The boy snorted and took another swig of his drink. “Dunno why you’re so worked up about what we said, none of it was that bad.”

“No! You need to leave the premises at once!” Mei said, pointing to the door. “If you have a problem, you can call our Honeydew Cha headquarters, I’m sure they’d love to hear from you. But you are not staying here after that. Leave!”

There was an answering array of snickers and insults, but when Mei narrowed her gaze and stared them down, they finally stirred and began to drag themselves upright. Muttering insults and shooting her nasty looks, they finally began to head to the door. Passing by the counter at the front, they headed for the exit…only for the girl to suddenly launch to the side, seizing the jar that had been set by the register. The jar had been decorated with post-it notes and drawings that Mei had made herself, with little cartoons of her yeti doodle thanking them for the tips.

With that day having been busier than ever, it was brimming with tips. Coins and bills filled it nearly to the brim where they simply hadn’t had the chance to empty it. Some of the coins went bouncing away as the girl slung it under one arm, laughed and gave her the finger, and then broke into a run as all the boys followed after her. In a sudden stampede, they nearly broke the door open as they fled.

“Hey!” Mei flung herself after them, but it was too late. She stumbled to a stop at the open door, yelling after them. “That’s our tip jar!”

Hoots and jeers answered her.

“What, you wanted us to leave!”

“Thanks for the tea, you chunky-arse cunt!”

“I got a tip for you right here!”

One of the boys made a very offensive gesture at her with both hands.

“Hey! Hey! You get back here this instant! You can’t—!” Mei lingered there in the open doorway, unable to continue. She wasn’t about to leave her younger cohorts alone in the shop, and without Snowball or her weapons to back her up, there was no way she could take on an entire group like them if things went south. She could only watch as her team’s hard-earned tips got further away in the hands of those goons, their laughter fading as they slowed to a walk, when they saw her unable to chase them. She bit her lip and sniffled, and had just started to close the door in abject defeat when a shadow fell across her.

“Oi! S’wrong, love? What’s going on?”

She whirled about, to where Junkrat suddenly stood above her. “Oh, Jamie! Those awful people just robbed us!! They made a mess and caused trouble and took the jar and they were…” Her expression fell. “They were saying very awful things…About us. About me.”

His face darkened, glancing up to where the group was laughing and walking away, the stolen jar still under one arm. Even if it wasn’t the jar that really concerned him. “You? Saying things ‘bout you? What kinda things?”

His suspicions were confirmed when Mei looked down, refusing to meet his gaze. “It was bad…I don’t want to repeat…”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, voice suddenly too airy. “Well, my tea can wait. Lemme just go see about that jar…and see if maybe I can’t get ‘em to rethink talking to you like that.” He started off, peg leg clacking, and made a strange gesture to Roadhog. The larger man only nodded and peeled off into the crowd, heading in the opposite direction.

Mei watched him go, leaning further and further out the door, still unable to follow. “Jamie, wait! Wait, don’t blow anyone up! Please! I-I’m fine, see! No matter what they said, I’m fine! We can make more tips! Jamie!”

But he was already gone.

***

The gang of goons turned a corner, still celebrating their victory as the girl passed the stolen tip jar to her boyfriend to start counting out. Wasn’t a bad take, especially since it had irked that Chinese lady so much. Heading down an alleyway, littered with dumpsters and bins from the nearby shops and restaurants, they began to talk over their plans for dinner. The tip jar would more than pay for all of them, after all.

Over the sound of their chattering, the clicking and clacking of a peg-legged gait sounded behind them. Junkrat, smiling maniacally as ever, had found and followed them. At a leisurely pace, he started tailing after them, giggling the entire way before finally hooting aloud for their attentions.

“Hey mates! How ya goin!”

The others were none too keen on his appearance, their leader lingering behind to scoff at him.

“The fuck’s a junker doing out here? Lost your way home to the landfill? Oi, need directions to the nearest bin?”

The entire group laughed, and Junkrat abruptly began shrilling his wild laugh along with them. Cackling like a hyena, he bent over and slapped at both his knees with a thud and a clank, before his head jerked upright, yellow eyes alight and lips stretching open in his mad grin. “Ahahaha! Good one, mates! Haha! A trash bin! Ya sure got me! Imagine! Hahaha! A junker and his bins!”

His laughter only rose in pitch and ferocity. They scowled at that, and their leader snorted and flicked a cigarette in his direction, turning to lead his lackeys off along the other length of alleyway. “Fockin’ junkers, ay, radiation-rotted in the brains. Dunno what this city’s comin’ to. C’mon, let’s go—”

“Now hold on, mates! Hold on!” Rat hobbled after them with his uneven limp. “C’mon, I appreciate a good sense of humor much as anyone. Heh, junkers belonging in the bin! Absolute classic. And…say, you know any other real good ones?”

“The fuck you w—”

“Ya know. Maybe about nice ladies working in boba shops, with a ponytail and glasses, Chinese accent? That sweet girl in the green uniform what you’ve had some real choice remarks about. That girl. My girl.” His grin tightened, teeth scraping so hard that they nearly sparked. “How about it! Ya had any real rippers about my girl? Ya wanna tell them to me right now?”

There was a long pause from the other group, glancing to one another before the leader finally snorted and went skulking down the alley more. “Ah, fuck off.”

“C’mon now, let’s all be mates! I just wanna know what you said to my Mei!” Rat said, still following them. “Just tell me what you said to her. And normally I got no qualms at all about taking money that’s just laying out there in perfectly good jars, but… Well y’see, that’s my girl’s money, right there. So you gotta give it back too.”

That made the whole group turn upon him, and several of the larger ones began to advance to back up their leader, standing until they were shoulder to shoulder. Junkrat found himself faced with an entire little crowd of bogans that were nearly as large as he was, and significantly more aggressive. Several of them were already reaching for the batons and knives he knew they were carrying. But still he didn’t back down, and his grin didn’t even waver as he faced them head-on.

“Now this is normally something that I don’t do, but because my girl’s involved and she’s a real sweet sort, I’m gonna give you a choice between easy way or hard way. Now the easy way is, you fucks are gonna go apologize to my girl first of all, and give back what you took from her. Easy squeezy! Or you can choose the hard w—”

The lead man moved, his hand launching out from his belt and holding a glint of metal. The knife slashed through the air, narrowly missing the junker’s lanky frame.

There was a blur of movement, followed by the sickening hollow crack of bone against bone. The top of Junkrat’s thick skull slammed full force into the man’s forehead, splitting skin and crunching cartilage as part of his nose dented inward, and took part of a socket with it. He staggered backward as the knife went spinning out of his grasp, stunned, eyes rolling in several directions before he collapsed against a nearby wall and clutched at his face with a shout. His mates surged forward to aid him, holding him up before he could fall any further.

“Hard way it is!” Rat reared up to his full height, blood trickling a sticky trail down along his grinning features, outlining his wild smile where every tooth was bared, yellow eyes alight. “You’re choosin’ to scrap with a junker?! Good choice, mates! Oi, Roadie! They chose the hard way!”

The other group had just begun to rally, their leader balling his fists and starting to square up with the lanky junker across from him, when there was a low rumble from the shadows at the other end of the alleyway. Amongst the piles of garbage and dumpsters, an immense shape turned its head and began to lift out of the background. The pig-masked behemoth loomed above them, one tree-trunk-thick arm uncurling with a viciously curved metal hook in his hand. Slowly advancing towards the scene, he let the sharpened tip drag along the wall, screeching and spitting sparks as it went.

Junkrat cackled from the other end of the chokepoint. With a metallic clatter, he slammed a fistful of grenades into the weapon he suddenly sported in one hand, aimed right at them. The group of hooligans found themselves penned in between the two junkers, one armed with explosives and the other…a veritable monster that was headed their way.

“Oi!” Still grinning and with his face covered in blood, Rat whistled jovially to catch their attention. “You still don’t wanna apologize to my girl? Then how ‘bout you make it up to her.”

“We didn’t mean nothing by it, ay!”

“Swear, it was nothing!”

“How we gonna—”

“SHUT!” Rat shrilled, lifting his grenade launcher as they shrank back. “You’re gonna drop your money and everything what you got…and if you don’t feel like droppin’ em, then my mate would be happy to uh, give you a sort of pat-down? And I gotta warn you, he’s got a reputation for playin’ a bit rough. Ain’t that right, Roadie?”

Roadhog rumbled dangerously, and the group shrunk into an ever-smaller circle. The girl was the first to crack, audibly starting to cry even as she upended her purse and began tossing her belongings onto the filthy ground. Among them was the crumpled bills from the shop’s tip jar. Following her lead, wallets and jewelry and credits and other bits and pieces began to shower down onto the pavement, and even their foul-tempered leader soon tossed his wallet and cards onto the ground before Hog’s spiked boots.

“That’s all of it, mate, swear.”

“We’re gonna go, we’re gonna go.”

“No harm, ay? We’ll fuck off.”

Junkrat’s gaze darted downward before he snorted aloud, nodding sharply to Roadhog before his blood-smeared grin eased and he cheerfully stepped to the side, waving them forward with his gun. “See! Glad we got all that sorted out. And if me and Roadie see you cunts lurking anywhere within boba’s reach of that shop, well… Let’s just say that Roadie’s got a real temper on him and I dunno if I’d be able to stop the big lug. In fact…seems he might be in a bit of a mood right now. Go on, then, start runnin’.”

They took their chance, bolting forward just as Roadhog’s gargantuan form suddenly broke into a run. Scraping his hook against the brick, he hurled the wicked metal thing forward in a rattle of chains, blurring forward just as the group scattered at the alley’s mouth and dispersed into all directions, their screams trailing after them. Silence soon returned to the little alleyway, and Hog took up his place guarding the entry while his younger partner began picking through the offerings left behind.

***

“Order number 342! Passionfruit Sunset, oolong milk tea, berry matcha!”

Mei didn’t have time to worry about that pack of hoodlums. It was just before closing now, with only a lingering handful of people waiting for the last orders and she had been so distracted by trying to keep up that she’d nearly been able to forget that group of awful people… Almost. She just had to focus on this last stretch before closing. The kitchen was splattered with syrups and flavorings, loose pearls rolled about the ground or burst under her feet, and she was starting to forget which flavors went with which colors.

“Taro milk tea and a lychee with peach poppers!” She started the blenders for the hundredth time that day, only pausing to try and slide the visor back up her sweaty forehead and adjust her crooked glasses. Her feet were staring to ache and her smile was starting to fade, but her crew was counting on her to see them through and she wasn’t about to let everyone down. Maybe she could try to refill the tip jar with her own money today, too? She couldn’t let them down…

No matter how tired she was, she immediately stood to attention when a familiar voice joined the throng of customer conversation. It was just one Australian accent among many, but the screeching tone of it, followed by the sudden movement of everyone away from the door heralded Rat’s entrance. He limped in with the telltale k-thud k-thud of his peg, and immediately sashayed right to the front of the (suddenly dispersed) line and threw down his bag and leaned on the top of the counter in his most roguish pose.

“Hey, babe! Gimme your biggest bucket of half-sweet, and then you can give me a full sweet, right here!” He tapped his cheek and leaned down as if for a kiss. “And then, you can give me a—”

“J-Jamison! Hi!” She interrupted just as he was about to make a lewd gesture, waving both hands before lowering her voice. ”Oh no, is that blood on your forehead? Please tell me you didn’t hurt anybody over a silly tip jar?”

He quickly wiped away the trickles of red that he’d missed earlier. “What do you take me for! Not to worry. Barely even a scratch, maybe a bruise or two. They’re lucky Roadie and I didn’t hook ‘em and cook ‘em. Nah, gave them a spook was all. Swear it.”

“Just so long as nobody got hurt, please?” She sighed, pushing her sweaty hair back once more. “Well, I guess scaring them is okay…they were being pretty awful. And the things they said! And stealing the tips from my team! Just awful, they were being total…Um.”

“Cunts?”

“No, no, I’m not saying that. What’s Australian, something kind of mean but nicer than that?”

“Galahs. Dipsticks. Drongos.”

“Yes! They were being real drongos!” she said with a little smile, before passing him his milk tea, half sweet, just how he liked.

“Thanks, darl. Well isn’t that fine service. Oi, ladies and gents, isn’t that just the finest boba service you ever did see?!” He turned upon the little crowd in the waiting area, and received a few hesitant agreements and nervous laughter. Nodding to himself, he ripped open his pack and reached both arms into it, rummaging about. “Best Honeydew Cha I been to all day, and I think that deserves a tip!”

He produced her stolen smiley-faced jar from the bag and began digging out entire handfuls of cash, credits, and random little jewels and metal bits, stuffing them inside. When that was filled past the brim, he began snatching at cups and cramming them full as well, pushing them across the counter to the stunned boba shop staff. Tucking the last few dollars into a sample cup while they tried to handle the sudden deluge of tip money, he placed both hands on his hips and watched the chaos in an extremely self-satisfied way.

“Oh. And they also send you their apologies for the things what they said to you, by the by. Hope this’ll cover it.”

“W-where did you even get—” Mei sputtered, then turned upon him with that uniquely accusatory smile. “You know something, I’m not even mad that you probably beat up those bullies. Maybe they’ll learn to be nicer. I’m giving you a pass this time. And you’ve really made my team happy so…” She lifted her voice again. “Okay, Honeydew Crew, thank you to Mr. Fawkes for feeling so generous today. And you all did such a great job today that I’m giving you all my share as a bonus…in exchange for you taking care of tonight’s clean-up.”

There was a chorus of agreement as she swung open the little door behind the counter, untying her apron as she looped her arm around his and passed him his favorite half-sweet tea. He grinned at her before giving her a squeeze, letting her guide him of the shop and down the boardwalk where Roadhog was waiting. For a moment, they walked together in silence as he busied himself with his tea…before he nearly spit it out all over the top of her head when he heard her sigh and grumble aloud.

“...I really wish I had gotten to punch them.”

“Ay?!”

“I know! I know it’s mean but…They were mean first,” she huffed, before giggling at his expression. “But, thank you for taking care of those no-good bullies. And for stealing everything back.”

“That’s cold! Oh, I like that from you! Uh, why don’t we leave Roadie to his lonesome and head back to the bungalow, maybe work out some of that aggression you got?” His arm wrapped about her, gripping at her side. “Whaddaya say?”

“I…think that’s a good idea, actually,” she said with a little smile. “But maybe in a little while. It’s still a nice night for a walk. Why don’t you and I go to the beach?”

#meihem #junkmei #meirat #junkrat #jamison fawkes #mei #mei-ling zhou #Honeydew Mei #boba mei #boba #bubble tea #writing #fiction #fanfiction #overwatch

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sammiexwtf · 5 years ago

Text

DIO Sounds About Right

Hi please enjoy my shitty JJBA fic (You can find it on AO3 and Wattpad with the same name) NSFW

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“Giorno I am so sorry that you haven’t been on good terms with your father practically since your birth, but I am NOT failing this project just because you want to avoid him,” You huffed. The blonde man on your phone screen shot you an annoyed look, which most likely mirrored the one on your own face.

“I don’t know why you’re so damn adamant on staying at my house to finish this project Y/N. I’ve already stayed over at your place countless of times and as a plus you’re closer to the library, we could just walk over when we need to,” Giorno let out a deep sigh as he leaned against his bed frame. “You know how I get when he’s around and since his business trip was cancelled he’ll be here for the whole weekend.”

“Look Gio, I know you try and avoid him as much as possible and I’m not clueless about your feelings towards him,” you mumbled with a small frown. “It’s just that my roommate is planning on using the apartment for one of her ridiculous parties and we’re not going to have any peace for our work if you come over here. Besides, even if your dad is going to be home all weekend you always tell me he locks himself in his study, so it’s not like we’re going to be graced with his presence anyways.”

“Still it’s just the simple thought of being under the same roof as him that’s bothering me. Plus, I don’t think you’ve even met my dad, so you wouldn’t really understand why I’m so against it.”

“You make it sound like he’s some sort of monster, maybe we should start calling him Count Dracula or something.” Your friend snorted at your stupid joke, trying to hide his smile by turning his face away from the screen.”Either way you won’t be completely alone with him if I’m there, and I know you wouldn’t be able to put up with a bunch of drunk college girls trying to get you into their panties.” At your last remark the blonde made a look of disgust and knew that you basically won the argument. If there was one thing that bothered Giorno the most, it was those self proclaimed ‘fans’ of his that were scattered throughout the university that you both attended, your roommate being one of them. Trying to avoid their affections while they were drunk would cause him even more displeasure than usual.

“Fine then. I’ll text you the address.” You couldn’t hide your excitement as you jumped out of bed to start packing your bag. This would be the first time going over to Giorno’s house since you’ve met him, and you weren’t going to waste any time if he decided to change his mind last minute.

“Alright I’ll see you soon then. Bye Giogio!”

“I told you not to call me that!” You playfully stuck your tongue out at the blonde before ending the FaceTime call to finish packing.

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You couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed at the enormous house before you, flicking your head back and forth between the address Giorno had sent to you and the one plated in gold above the large double set doors. You even asked the boy more than once if he sent you the wrong address by mistake, earning you a barrage of middle finger emojis and obscenities at having to repeat himself over and over. Gingerly you lifted your hand to the doorbell and rang it, hearing the chime as clear as day echo inside. Your eyes shifted above the doorbell and noticed a plaque with the name ‘Brando’ etched across it. The sound of one of the doors opening gained your attention once more as a gorgeous young woman stepped out from them. She was wearing what looked to be a tight fitting maid’s uniform, with long brown hair swept to the side and cascading down one of her shoulders.

“Welcome to the Brando residence,” She said with a polite smile. “How can I help you Miss?”

‘Brando residence?” You thought to yourself. ‘I thought Giorno’s last name was Giovanna?’

“Uh hi...I’m looking for Giorno? I’m not sure if I’m at the right address.” The young woman perked up at Giorno’s name and stepped aside, holding the door open with a warm smile.

“You must be Y/N! Please come inside, Mr.Giovanna is indeed expecting you tonight!” At the confirmation you let out a breath of relief before stepping through the threshold, only to stop at the sight of the marble staircase before you. The house was far from being considered a mansion, but nonetheless did it look like something straight off of one of those celebrity reality shows. You jumped at the sound of the large door closing behind you, forgetting momentarily about the girl as she quickly made her way towards you. “Just give me one moment to go get Mr.Giovanna for you, he was insistent about showing you the house on his own.” All you could do was nod your head as words seem to fail as she hastily made her way up the stairs. You didn’t have time to look around though as Giorno came around from the top of the stairs and smiled down at you.

“This would be the part where I’d say welcome to my humble abode, but there is absolutely nothing humble about this monstrosity, my father made sure of that,” He sneered. He motioned with his hand for you to come up and you quickly began to ascend the stairs. Once you were at the top it didn’t seem as scary as before, but the rest of the home was just as beautiful. You honestly weren’t paying attention to where you were going, you were trying to take in everything at once from the amazing artwork that lined the walls, to ornate furniture, and even taking a moment to look at how pristine the hardwood floors were that you could practically see your face through it. Ok, maybe they weren’t that clean but still.

Before you knew it, you were in Gio’s bedroom as he made his way to his bed and opened his laptop. His bedroom was a simple creme color, a coffee brown bookcase filled with novels and trophies was lined next to a window that reached from the floor to the ceiling. Directly across from his bed was a flatscreen T.V sitting on top of a matching brown dresser. His walls were covered in paintings that looked as if they belonged in an art museum and a map of the world hung above his headboard. You stared down at his bed then, afraid to sit down as you didn’t want to wrinkle the deep purple duvet atop it. It took Gio a moment to realize that you were still standing by the doorway, his eyes following yours as they danced across his room as well before stopping right back at you.

“What?”

“Why am I just finding out now, after 2 years of friendship might I add, that you’re fucking loaded? I mean I knew you came from a family with SOME money but holy shit dude!” You stared into his green eyes, looking for an answer. Only to be met with a smile.

“Well technically I’m not rich. My father is. Hence there was nothing to find out.” You gave the blonde a dirty look, earning a chuckle from him before deciding that the bed was no longer intimidating and sat down on it.

“You know what I meant. I know you said your dad had a busy job, but what does he do to be able to own a house like this? Is he part of the mafia?” This time your question earned you a hearty laugh from your friend and you felt your ears get hot, not liking to be laughed at when you were being serious. You threw your duffle bag at Giorno, only for him to catch it with ease before placing it next to him on the bed. “I’m not trying to be funny Gio! Answer me!”

“First and foremost, you should know the mafia is MY forte, and I probably would respect the man if he actually was a member. It would make getting in a bit more easier.” You snorted at his answer. If you had a dollar for every time the boy mentioned dropping out of school to join the mafia you’d probably be as rich as his father by now. “However, every now and then he gets one as a client, if they’re willing to pay good that is. He’s a lawyer.” You looked around once more and out the open door as the maid walked by carrying a basket full of laundry. If this is what a lawyer could afford, maybe you were studying the wrong major.

“I have one more question.” Gio simply nodded his head for you to continue as he began typing on his laptop, pulling up the notes for the project you were assigned. “Why did that maid say this was the Brando residence? There was a plaque outside too with that name. I thought your last name was Giovanna?”

“It is Giovanna,” he answered without looking up from the computer screen. “That was my mother’s maiden name. My father’s last name is Brando. They were never married.” His curt reply told you that there was definitely more behind the story, but you decided not to press the issue for now and kept any more questions to yourself.

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Roughly three or four hours had passed since you and Giorno had begun working on your project, satisfied with the work so far you both decided to take a break. The due date wasn’t until a week from now, but this project was for your marine biology class and the professor was known for being a hardass when it came to grading so the sooner you could work on it, the more time you could use to perfect it before it reached him. You tossed your pen onto the bed, cracking your fingers and stretching your arms. Giorno had brought out his espresso machine an hour into the session and was now brewing himself another cup. You honestly never heard of anyone who kept a spare coffee machine in their bedroom, but Giorno mentioned that while he lived in Italy, it apparently was a normal thing. You called bullshit but decided not to break your head over it anymore.

“You sure you don’t want another cup of coffee Y/N?” You covered your mouth to stifle a yawn, wagging your finger at him.

“No thank you, if I drink too much caffeine I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Besides,” You added while hopping off of his bed. “Another cup of anything and I think my bladder will explode. Where’s the closest bathroom in this maze?”

“Down the hallway on the other end of the staircase, turn right.”

“Grazie!” He simply shot you a thumbs up as you made your way out with his, albeit vague, directions. Soon you went down the hallway and passed the stairs. “Alright he said turn right and we should be in business…” As soon as you turned the corner you stopped to see three doors, one on the right side closest to you and two on the left. All three were closed and Giorno hadn’t mentioned there’d be more than one door. “Well...only one way to find out.” Without another thought you naturally went to the single door on the right and opened it without hesitation. Not the brightest idea.

You halted in place, mouth going dry. The door you opened led not to the bathroom but to an older looking study. The three walls in front of you were lined ceiling to floor with bookcases, a small globe in the corner. In the center of it was a large mahogany desk, covered in scattered papers. What made you really stop however was the tall and muscular blond man casually leaning against the desk...with the maid on her knees facing him. The moment you had opened the door he had slowly looked up from the woman to you, not even startled by your intrusion. At first the only sounds you could hear was your own rapid heartbeat echoing in your ears, but now you were focusing on the sounds coming from the maid and noticing how her head was bobbing. A blush began to creep up your neck to your face as it looked like he made no intentions of stopping her either.

“Is there something I can help you with? I’m a bit busy if you couldn’t tell.” His deep voice had wrapped around your mind, slowly dragging you out of your thoughts. It sounded so calm, despite the current situation. You had to basically tear your eyes from the scene in front of you, your face burning more.

“I-I’m so sorry! I was just looking for-” You began to stutter, but he raised a hand stop you mid sentence.

“It’s the door across.” You quickly bowed and practically slammed the door shut, missing the sinful look on the man's face as he watched your retreating form.

You bolted into the room across, thankful this time for it actually being the bathroom as you locked the door letting out a shaky breath. You had no doubt in your mind that you had just met Giorno’s father, and unceremoniously at that.

“What a great first impression,” You thought aloud. You made your way to the sink to run some cool water on your face in hopes of getting your flustered look back to normal. After you were done and completed your original business you just stood at the closed door, you were a bit nervous to step foot outside the bathroom if god forbid HE was to come out at the same time. Unfortunately, god decided to dislike you at this moment as you heard a small knock on the restroom door. “Just a second,” You shakily called out. Deeply hoping it was Giorno wondering what was taking you so long. When you finally had the gall to open the door you were instead met with the sight of the young maid, her hair this time was a bit disheveled and a small pink tint was hinting at her cheeks.

“Hello again Ms. Y/N,” She squeaked out. This time she would not meet your eyes, looking towards the ground instead. “Mr. Brando would like for you to join him in his study for a moment. I will be taking my leave for the evening, please enjoy the rest of your stay.” She bowed and sped away and out of sight, not giving you a chance to apologize about walking in on them. You swept your eyes over the closed door to the study across from you, feeling a cold sweat begin to form on your brow. You inhaled deeply before settling your nerves and walking over. This time you knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

“Come in.” With another deep breath you slowly edged the door open, once again being welcomed by the dimly lit study. This time the man, whom you now knew was in fact Giorno’s father, sat behind his desk patiently, fingertips pressed together right above his wide chest. “I’m glad you learned how to knock this time,” He teased with a grin.

“Trust and believe I learned my lesson, again I want to properly apologize about intruding on...something so private.” You could hear your voice falter under his intense gaze, and he let out a deep chuckle. The sound was so alluring, and you felt your throat beginning to dry.

“That’s quite alright. I wanted us to start over on that first impression. Given the maid explained to me you’re a friend of my son, I didn’t think it appropriate for your first meeting of me to be in the middle of having my cock sucked,” He stated as if he were just talking about a small inconvenience. Your eyes widened at his crudeness and you couldn’t help but blush and look away, positive that you were as red as a cherry now.

“Well then...I appreciate the second chance then Mr. Brando.”

“Dio.”

“I beg your pardon?” You turned your face back to him, now he had his arms resting beside him on the chair. There was an almost playful look in his eyes.

“You can call me Dio. Mr. Brando is far too old for my taste.”

‘Of course his name would be something like Dio...how well it suits him too,’ You thought to yourself.

“Alright then...Dio. I’m Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You bowed to formally greet the man, and when you looked back up he was beckoning you with his finger to come forward. You thought about just staying put but in the end began walking towards him. As you got closer, you were able to notice his features more clearly. His vibrant blond hair sat at neck length, small fringes of bangs reaching right about his thick brows. His eyes almost looked cat like, predatory even yet strikingly alluring. You assumed they were a light brown color but with the dim lighting they almost looked red, adding a supernatural aura to him. He was gorgeous, and now you knew where Giorno got his looks from. Once you reached the edge of his desk, he held out his hand for you, almost as if he were asking for a handshake. You reached out your own to reach his, taking notice at how incredibly large his hand was to yours. However he gently wrapped his fingers around your hand and leaned over, placing a warm kiss on your knuckles. The small action immediately sent a wave of heat through your entire body. He looked up at you through hooded eyes, not moving your hand away from his face. Your blush had never left, and the heat began to grow unbearable as you watched his eyes slowly sweep down your face, stopping for a moment at your lips before coming back up to lock once more with your own.

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Y/N.” His voice dropped to a seductive whisper, the breath from his words ghosting over your knuckles and sending a shiver down your spine. Slowly he slipped his hand from yours, lingering on your fingertips for the briefest of moments before resting it on his thigh. You followed his movements with your eyes, noticing how thick and muscular his thighs were, straining against the fabric of his beige dress pants. Your eyes crept up, landing on the small amount of skin peeking out from his shirt he hadn’t bothered to tuck back in. The white button down seemed to be a second skin, as it clung to every contour and muscle on his body, the first two buttons undone to give you a glimpse of just what lies underneath. Finally, your journey stopped on his lips; deliciously pouty and upturned into one of the most devilish smirks you’d ever seen. “See something you like?” You dragged your eyes up completely to meet his, only to be greeted with an intense gaze that burned through your entire body. He had watched you ogle him shamelessly like a horny school girl, and couldn’t look more proud about it. At that moment the door to the study swung open, snapping you out of your trance.

“I was worried you got lost, looks more like you got trapped.” Giorno’s familiar voice was laced with venom, his face contorted to one of disgust. He stayed at the entrance of the study, holding the door open to allow the light from the hallway to seep through. He was focused solely on Dio, who sat relaxed in his chair unbothered by the angry blonde boy.

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise my son.” He emphasized the last two words, earning an eye twitch from the younger. “ I was just introducing myself to your exquisite friend here. I’m quite hurt that you hadn’t introduced me to her sooner.” Giorno simply scoffed at his father’s words.

“Well now that you’ve met, I’d like to have her returned to me now. We have a project to finish.” Giorno then turned his eyes to you, his gaze softening immensely. “Come on Y/N, I ordered us some takeout and it should be here soon so we can get back to work.”

“O-oh. Uh thanks Gio,” You mumbled. Your mind was still in a bit of a haze, but you were beginning to get your bearings. You turned to look at Dio and bowed once more. “It was nice meeting you Mr...I mean Dio. Please have a great rest of your evening.” With that you turned and began high tailing towards the door. Giorno moved back into the hallway as you approached, but before you could close the door that seductive voice reached out to you once more.

“Y/N,” he purred out. Slowly you turned towards him, hand still in the door knob. “If you need anything at all tonight, please do not hesitate to come look for me. You are our guest here and it would be my...” his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, “greatest pleasure to assist you.” You couldn’t help but swallow at the second meaning behind his words. Afraid to hear your own voice you simply nodded your head before softly closing the door behind you.

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

Giorno had interrogated you for a bit on your meeting with Dio, and you lied and told him you simply got curious after finding the bathroom and stumbled upon the study. You could tell he knew you were leaving something out but you would be damned if you actually told him the real way you found his father. After making sure you were ok enough for him and confirming that the man never touched you he dropped the subject and you both went on with the project while enjoying the food he had ordered. At around 1 AM you both agreed on turning in for the night and to continue in the morning. Giorno showed you to the guest room right next to his and bid you goodnight, finally leaving you alone with your thoughts. You laid on top of the bed just staring at the ceiling for a while. No matter how hard you tried, you kept replaying the meeting with Dio over and over again to the point that the memory of the maid slowly morphed and it was now you on your knees in front of him instead of her.

“Get out of my head!” You angrily whispered, not wanting for your friend to hear you through the walls. You glanced at your phone to see the time, ‘1:30 AM’ mocked the bright numbers. You got up from the bed and dug through your duffle bag and pulled out your pajamas. You thought about just changing and forcing yourself to sleep but you felt too warm and wanted a shower. Immediately you thought about going to the one down the hall but your stomach dropped, you did NOT want to run into you know who. “This house is huge, there’s definitely another bathroom somewhere.” You slowly made your way out of the room and into the quiet hallway. You checked the other rooms near yours only to find another guest room and a movie room, which you knew you were going to beg Giorno to set up a movie night after all of this. You walked down the hall and stopped at the stairs, looking at the hallway across from you where you knew the bathroom was.

“Maybe he’s not there anymore and went to bed?” You said to yourself. You shook your head and continued on your mission of finding another bathroom and descended down the stairs, you weren’t going to take any chances. Finally after finding the kitchen, two more guest rooms and a billiards room, you found a second bathroom. It was smaller and less ornate than the one up stairs but it was still a decent size and had a stand up shower. You mentally cheered before placing down your items and quickly began stripping. Soon you were in the shower letting the cool water bounce across your skin, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away. Occasionally your mind would wander onto the relationship Giorno had with his father, yes the man was indeed intimidating and there was something below the surface of that beautiful face that felt a bit dangerous, but there was nothing else that struck out to you as to why your friend couldn’t stand him. He’s told you about how egotistical the man is and how they always lived on edge of a fight, but never actually gave you hard proof or reasons for the intense dislike. Giorno had told you about his mother and how a complete bitch she was while he was growing up and everything she had put him through so you understood his feelings towards her completely. Eventually she dumped him off onto Dio one day and just disappeared from his life, ‘good riddance’ he had told you. Yet the mechanics of his relationship with his father was still kept a mystery to you and he would close up about it if you started asking too many questions. The only answer you’ve gotten so far was that they shared a difference in morals, and that was it.

After a good while you finished your shower and started to dry off. You felt as if a thousand weights were lifted from your shoulders and quickly put the events of the evening to the back of your mind, finally feeling sleepy. You began to get dressed but noticed something odd. You could have sworn you brought a clean pair of underwear to change into along with your pajamas. You looked around the bathroom floor to see if maybe it had fallen but found nothing.

“Maybe I left them in the bag by accident?” You shrugged your shoulders and just decided to just slip on your night shorts without underwear , you’d put some on when you got back to your room. You opted for a simple tank top as well to complete the look, your body was still a bit wet so the shirt became damp making the material a bit see through. You didn’t really care much, not like you were going to run into anybody like this..

You made your way out of the bathroom, the air inside the house suddenly felt a lot more colder and you began to shiver. Scurrying your way through the first floor you finally made it back to the stairs and started to climb them. You hadn’t noticed the extra pair of footsteps walking the hall until you were half way up, stopping completely in your tracks and if you hadn’t met him tonight the sight before you would’ve been a terrifying one. Dio stood at the top of the stairs, his back facing the little bit of light from the hall so all you could really see was the outline of his body, his face was completely hidden in the shadows. It felt like you were looking at a ghost and not a man.

“What a coincidence, I was just on my way down to look for you, Ms. Y/N..” His voice was as smooth as ever, but you noticed there was something else there that you couldn’t quite pick up on. “What on earth are you doing up at this hour?” You were feeling a bit uneasy with how calm he sounded, and the fact that you couldn’t see his face was making it worse.

“I was just taking a bath..” You answered meekly, your throat feeling tight.

“And why would you go through the trouble of going all the way down there? You already know there’s one upstairs.”

‘ Because I didn’t want to run into like I just did now.’ You thought to yourself. You swallowed hard before answering.

“I-I didn’t want to disturb you in case you were asleep.”

“Aren’t you the thoughtful one.” He let out a chuckle. “No matter, I actually was looking for you to see if you forgot something.”

“Not that I know of..why?” You wanted for this conversation to be over already, the tension that you had just showered away crawling right back to you. Dio let out another chuckle, this one sounded a bit huskier. He didn’t say anything but lifted his hand out to the side, and your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. In his hand were your missing panties, where as he was still in the shadows they were illuminated VERY clearly in the light. You felt your embarrassment multiply as he laughed at your reaction.

“I found them on the floor up here by the stairs and figured they were yours, unless Giorno has changed his sense of fashion recently which I doubt considering he’s never liked polka dots to begin with. Then again I’m not one to judge.” You could hear the teasing tone in his voice and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously at his joke.

“This is just outright embarrassing, but thank you for trying to return them to me.” You kept mentally cursing to yourself about this whole situation, and how this happened in the first place; you should’ve just let Giorno come to your apartment to study like he wanted from the beginning. You began climbing the stairs to retrieve your underwear from the blond, but as soon as you reached the last step he took one step back just out of your reach. You furrowed your brows and stepped forward again, and once more he took another step back. “Um...what are you doing?”

“Playing your game, Ms. Y/N.” You rose a brow in confusion, you were honestly getting annoyed now.

“What game?” He let out a ‘hmph’ before turning around and walking down the hall, still dangling your underwear over his shoulder for you to see. “Hey!” You shouted and followed after him as he disappeared around the corner, once you reached it you stopped to see the door to his study was wide open. You made your way over and stood in front of the open door, on top of his desk were your panties, but Dio was nowhere in sight.

‘ I would have to be a complete idiot not to realize this is a trap.’ You stayed in place, just staring at the underwear that was mocking you. He had to be somewhere in there, but the dim lighting made it hard to see into the small shadows in the corner of the room, and the light from the hallway wasn’t helping much either. You contemplated just leaving them there, it wasn’t like you had no more underwear at home, but deep down you wanted to see what would happen and the moment that thought crossed your mind you felt a warm sensation through your body. Your fantasy was getting the better of you and before you realized it you were walking towards the desk. You reached the desk and still no sign of the man, so you reached out to grab your underwear without hesitating.

*Click*

The light from the hallway completely disappeared as the door was closed, you didn’t turn around but you could feel someone staring at you from behind. His footsteps echoed in the room, surprised that you could even hear them over the sound of your own heartbeat blaring in your ears. He stopped right behind you, his chest practically pressed against your back. A large hand reached out from behind you and took hold of the clothes that you were still clutching in your hands before tossing them to the side. Once more the hand came into your line of vision and tenderly cupped your face and turned it to the side to meet Dio’s hot gaze. His hand was cold in comparison to your hot face as he slowly traced circles on your bottom lip with his thumb. He bent his head down to your ear, pressing you against his body in the process and feeling his hardness rub against your ass. You let out a gasp, earning you a chuckle from the large man, his warm breath tickling your ear.

“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you, that you’d be a special treat.” His voice felt like velvet as he whispered into your ear, the sound along with his breath was beginning to make your body betray you as each word he whispered sent a throbbing heat to your core. He kissed the spot right behind your ear, slowly ghosting his lips across your jaw, then your cheek before hungrily taking your own lips with his. His lips were softer than they looked as they caressed your own, earning a moan from you. Dio took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You should’ve pushed him away, bit his tongue, elbowed him to make a run for it or something instead of just giving in. His other hand had wrapped around your waist, but was now moving up and under your tank top grabbing a hold of your right breast and massaging it. Dio finally pulled away from the kiss and aside from the lustful look on his face he seemed unaffected, unlike you who was a panting red faced mess.

“We shouldn-'' Was all you were able to breath out before he pinched your nipple hard eliciting another moan from you as he began rubbing the sensitive bud between his fingers.

“Your voice sounds so sweet when you moan for me Y/N, I want more of it.” His other hand left your face as it travelled to the waistband of your shorts before slipping through easily, running a long thick finger across your slit. Your hips on their own accord bucked at the sensation, making Dio laugh darkly. “My, my, all I did was kiss you and you’re already so wet. You’re a very filthy girl aren’t you Y/N?” You turned your face away from him and bit your lip to hold back another moan as he slipped his finger inside you and began pumping it slowly. Your knees began to buckle from underneath you, so Dio pushed you both forward effectively pinning your legs between him and the desk to stop you from falling.

“I can’t do this,” You whined to him. “Your Giorno’s father..” You squeezed your eyes shut in pain as he added two more fingers and began pumping at an obscene pace, not allowing you to stretch around them first.

“I’m well aware of who I am to that boy.” He answered gruffly.The hand that was on your breast moved and was cupping your face a bit more rough than before, his fingers now hitting your sweet spot causing your breath to stop in your throat. “I’m also aware about his feelings for you and how blissfully ignorant you are to them. Which makes this so much more sweeter for me.” He kissed you again, this time more feverishly. As he pulled away again he withdrew his fingers from your heat at the same moment, leaving you feeling empty. That feeling was short lived however as he pushed you down onto the desk, your chest was completely pressed against it making your ass push out towards him. Dio pulled your shorts down to your ankles, the cold air rushing to your wet core making you shiver. You could hear him unzipping his pants and the ruffling of clothing, before you felt the tip of his dick tease against your entrance. Slowly he inched it into you, stretching out your hole. It had not hurt as much as you thought it would but there was a dull pain nonetheless from how big he was. You’ve had partners before so you were by no means a virgin, but you’d be damned if you had anybody with his size.

“Such a nice and tight cunt you have my dear Y/N. I can’t wait to ruin it.” Without wasting another moment he gripped your hips with both hands as he began to fuck you roughly, the lewd sound of his skin slapping against yours were drowned out by your loud moans. His chest was pressed firmly against your back, his head right next to your ear and you could hear every groan and grunt that escaped his lips. “I wish you could see the look on your face right now,” He panted into your ear, not once stopping his relentless pace. “Such a dirty look for a dirty girl.” You had no response, the only thing falling from your mouth being your own incoherent screams and moans. Soon you felt a hot pressure beginning to build, each thrust bringing you closer to your edge.

“Dio please!” You couldn’t recognize your voice, it sounded so hoarse and needy. He took notice and snaked a hand down between your legs, pressing a finger onto your clit but not moving it.

“Please what, my dear Y/N?” He began to slow his pace, getting you on the verge of tears as you felt the pressure begin to fade. “I want to hear you beg for it.” You tried to bring your hips to meet his but he only pulled farther away. Finally you gave in.

“Make me cum from your cock Dio, please!” Satisfied he picked up his pace, slamming into you as he began rubbing your clit in tight circles. The pressure began building up again causing your vision to go in and out.

“I want you to scream my name when you cum. Be a good little girl for me.” His voice is what sent you over the edge as his name ripped from your throat as you orgasmed. As you came your core squeezed around him, bringing him close to his. He pulled out with a final groan as he emptied his load onto your ass. As your high began to die down, you felt the pain on your thighs from being pounded into the desk. You were going to have bruises tomorrow for sure. Slowly Dio lifted himself from on top of you, lifting you off of the desk as well. “I apologize, but it seems I may have made a bit of a mess on you.” His breathing was back to normal, but when you turned around you looked down and nearly choked. He was still as hard as a rock. “Why don’t I join you for a another shower, Ms. Y/N?” The devilish look on his face was enough to tell you that your little romp was far from over.

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #anime #dio brando #readerxcharacter #readerxdio #reader insert #smut

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