#the voice wobble of vulnerability. leave them ALONE they have so so much to deal with and they're literally just a little guy!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

baepsaesbae · 4 years ago

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Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.1

Pairing— Kim Namjoon x reader (only in this chapter), Kim Taehyung x reader (main focus) ft. Yoongi

Genre— Vampire!Taehyung x Vampire Hunter!y/n, ANGST, smut +18, comedy (i tried)

Warnings— Death, violence, oral (f receiving), fingering, explicit unprotexted sex

Word Count— 7.6k

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That's to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires. You were essentially a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

A/N— Huge shoutout to @dee-ehn for this beautiful banner! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think!

You didn’t choose this life. You had no past trauma that spurred you on to take this path. Most vampire hunters became hunters because a loved one was murdered and they wanted revenge or some bullshit like that. Not you though.

You were born into this lifestyle. Your parents were allegedly the best hunting team in history. They were usually too busy with work, so you were practically raised by the faction itself. The grandmaster of the Vampyre Extermination Company (VEC for short) was your main parental figure.

While normal children went to school, you were being trained in combat. The only lessons you had were those pertaining to vampires. You knew everything there was to know about them. Being the youngest member of the company, it was clear that you were a prodigy.

By the age of 13, you had already killed 5 vampires. Most seasoned hunters only kill 5 in their entire lifetimes. You were incredibly smart, and used your youth to your advantage.

That was ten years ago. You had lost track of your kill count (not that it matters, it’s officially documented somewhere). You were now the youngest person ever to achieve the Expert Hunter title.

None of that fancy stuff matters to you. You get assigned a job, and you do it. That’s all it was. In fact, you were on a job at this very moment.

You were all dolled up sitting at the bar of a very busy nightclub, with a drink that you had no intention of drinking. Your assignment had been spotted frequenting this club quite often. He preyed on young women (as most of them do) and many of them had gone missing from this location.

You had on the skimpiest dress you could find. Its low cut neckline coupled with a push-up bra had your breasts nearly spilling out of the dress. Its tight material clung to your body to reveal your curves. You absolutely hated it.

“Why are you alone, pretty girl?” a drunk man stumbled up to you. He definitely wasn’t your target.

“I’m waiting for someone to kill,” you replied nonchalantly.

“To kill? That sounds kind of scary,” he put his hand on your waist.

You grabbed his wrist and twisted it, causing the man to cry out in agony.

“I don’t have time to waste on you. Get out of my sight or else I’ll break your wrist,” you warned with cold indifference.

The man scampered away as soon as you released him. You refocused your attention on the crowded dance floor. It’s possible that the vampire would smoothly dance with a girl before luring her to her doom.

You began to sigh in frustration when there was no sign of your target. Suddenly, the room’s temperature dropped. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, and goosebumps covered your body.

He had arrived.

There was no doubt about it. You felt a malevolent presence as soon as he entered the buidling. Your eyes scanned the club again, in search of the source. Finally, you found him.

There was a tall handsome man standing in front of the dance floor, surveying it as intensely as you were surveying him. He glanced your way, causing you to freeze up. When your eyes met, you shot him a coy smile, and turned to your drink.

Hopefully that was enough to pique his interest. You debated on whether you should sip your drink or not, to make you appear more vulnerable. It didn’t take long before a deep voice rang in your ear.

“Are you waiting on someone?” a seductive voice asked.

You could already tell he was using his charms. One of a vampire’s many tricks was their gift of persuasion and seduction. Supernatural powers were involved, of course, but their good looks helped seal the deal.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” you replied before sipping your drink.

“If you were, you probably wouldn’t have smiled my way,” the man took a seat beside you.

“Ah, you got me there. You’re a sharp one huh?” you smiled.

“In more ways than one, dear,” the man chuckled before extending a hand, “I’m Namjoon. Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m ___. The pleasure is all mine,” you shake his hand, taking note of how eerily cold it was. This was definitely him.

The night went on with playful flirting and shallow attempts at getting to know each other. You were well aware that everything both you and Namjoon said was a lie. Namjoon insisted on ordering you a drink after you finished the first one but you politely declined, saying you’ve had more than enough for one night (another blatant lie).

Namjoon finally made his move. He leaned over to you and kissed your exposed shoulder.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asked. You could feel how heavily laced his words were with mystical persuasion.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you kissed his cheek.

It wasn’t hard to flirt when your target was so attractive. In fact, that’s how most of your hunts have gone ever since you got older. You’d seduce them into letting their guard down, and kill them when they weren’t paying attention. It was a slight perk that vampires were much better at fucking than humans, but you were willing to keep that information private.

Back at Namjoon’s apartment, he wasted no time getting you undressed. You were passionately making out with him on his bed when reached down to palm his clothed erection. Namjoon released a guttural moan.

“So impatient,” he chuckled, kissing down your throat.

His hands wandered down between your thighs, rubbing your clit. He kissed his way down your stomach, pausing before your heat. He delicately flicked his tongue down your folds. You bucked your hips up, begging for more. Namjoon slid in his long slender fingers while his tongue worked your clit.

He expertly curved his fingers into you, hitting that special spot perfectly. His intensity picked up, causing your cries to get louder. He held you down as you started to squirm beneath him. He sucked on your clit as he rapidly pumped in and out of you.

You came without a warning, your body shaking from the impact. Namjoon licked up all of your juices. Your chest was heaving as Namjoon kissed a trail back up to your lips. His eyes were darkened with a dangerous hunger you were all too familiar with.

Going any further would be dangerous, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was too alluring to resist, plus your motto was that there’s no harm in having a little fun. A satisfied smile crept across your face after you tugged off his bottoms. His dick was just as big as you imagined, and you needed it inside of you immediately.

You immediately straddled Namjoon, lips still locked as you lowered yourself onto him. You moaned into his mouth as he filled you completely. Your hips moved on their own accord, leaving you no choice but to enjoy the ride. Namjoon let you take the lead, enjoying an unfamiliar balance of power in the bedroom. His hands rested on your hips as you rocked back and forth.

“You’re so hot. I could stay like this forever,” Namjoon praised.

“Have you ever been tied up before?” you asked before kissing his ear. As much as you wanted the night to continue, you knew Namjoon was at his limit. Endorphins were high, right now would be the perfect time to devour you.

“No, I haven’t. I’m usually the one doing the tying. But I’m always willing to try something new,” Namjoon smirked.

“Wait here then. And close your eyes!” you giggled.

Your legs were wobbly as you made your way to your discarded bag. You were delighted when you reentered the bedroom to find Namjoon still closing his eyes.

“Good boy,” you cooed while taking out silver chains.

“Are those chains I hear?” Namjoon sounded excited.

“Yes, I’m gonna chain you up real good. You’ve been a bad boy,” you whispered into his ear. Namjoon groaned, and you noticed his cock twitch.

With impossibly quick motions, you wrapped the chains around Namjoon’s wrists. The silver burned his skin upon impact. There was no need to chain up his legs, as the silver severely weakened him. He tried to wiggle free of the chain but it was no use. His eyes darted open to see you smiling down at him.

“There’s no use in struggling, Namjoon. These chains are pure silver and are anointed with holy water for extra measure. I am ___, from the Vampyre Extermination Company. You have been found guilty of numerous kidnappings and murders,” you say as you take out a wooden stake.

“Fuck you, you bitch!” Namjoon spat at you, fully baring his fangs.

“That’s not very nice, dear. You were so sweet to me before. Well, before you were going to kill me of course,” you laughed as if it were a joke, “Thank you for showing me a good time. May your soul rest easy in the next life.”

Namjoon bared his fangs at you while you plunged the stake into his chest. Blood gushed out of his wound. Cries of agony filled the room. A few moments later, Namjoon’s body turned to dust. The job was complete.

You made a call while getting dressed. Your clothes were soaked with blood, but that was nothing new.

“Hi, I’m gonna need a clean up crew at this address. Nothing super messy, just burn the bed I guess. Yeah, the mess was pretty much contained. Mhm. Yeah. Ok thank you,” you say curtly.

Back in your hotel room, you rewarded yourself with a bubble bath (after a shower of course). With most of the blood scrubbed off, you relaxed in the fragrant water. You had a habit of reflecting on your life after every job.

Was your life ever going to be normal? Probably not.

Were you going to die on one of your jobs? Probably.

Do you enjoy your job/life? Maybe? You couldn’t tell.

You did acknowledge that you loved the thrill of the hunt. You enjoyed acting weak and innocent, only to violently kill your targets. The sex and stuff was a nice bonus too. You were taught that vampires prefer to ‘wine and dine’ their prey. Apparently happy people make for happy meals. Due to this, it’s quite common for vampires to seduce their victims before devouring them.

‘Do vampires make other vampires?’ you asked when you were a child.

‘Yes. But they rarely do that because they are solitary creatures. Also, only the strongest vampires can turn humans since it drains their own life force tremendously,’ was the answer.

You got an assignment about once every month. During the time that you don’t have anyone to kill, you enjoyed traveling. The VEC pays handsomely. You never understood where all the money came from, until you were told that the deceased vampires’ assets get transferred to the VEC. How that happens, you had no clue. But it doesn’t matter; you get paid well enough to travel wherever you wanted to at a moment’s notice.

You perused the internet for flights to France. You’ve been craving macarons lately. You were about to buy a ticket when your phone rang. You groaned when you saw the VEC caller ID.

“Hello?” you answered.

“___. I need you to come down to HQ immediately.”

“Grandmaster?” your eyes widened. You never got a direct call from him. Whatever this was, it must be urgent.

He hung up as soon as he delivered the message. Typical. He’s a very straight to the point kind of guy.

There goes the rest of your relaxing evening. You packed up all of your belongings. A driver was already waiting for you in the lobby. Again, you had no idea how the VEC can be so quick and efficient, but you’re thankful for it regardless.

The car brought you to a private airport, in which a jet was already ready for you.

‘This must actually be serious,’ you thought. The VEC was boujee, as they usually flew you out first class, but the private jet is a first.

Within a few hours, you had finally arrived at HQ. You were greeted warmly upon entrance. After a quick congratulations on another successful job, you were escorted to the Grandmaster’s office.

“___. Please take a seat,” the grandmaster said as he paced back and forth.

“Is everything okay, Yoongi?” you asked. You always dropped the formalities when you were alone together. This man had been more of a parent to you than your actual parents, with whom you only had fleeting encounters with.

“It’s your parents. ___, I’m so sorry. They were killed on a hunt,” Yoongi placed a firm grip on your shoulder.

You silently processed the news. More than anything, you felt shocked. Shocked, because they were supposed to be the best hunters in the world. Shocked, because you felt nothing. You felt no sadness, no anger. You were so detached from your parents, they might as well have been strangers.

Yoongi on the other hand, looked like he was about to break down. He had known your parents for a long time. They were practically family to him, just like you.

You get up to embrace Yoongi in a long hug. You seldom showed true acts of affection, but this was as genuine as it gets. More than anything, you felt sad for Yoongi. You couldn’t fathom what he felt. You couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a loved one, mostly due to the fact that you didn’t have any loved ones. Yoongi may have been the closest thing to it.

You helped sit Yoongi down. After he was seated, you poured him a drink. Lord knows he needed it.

“Did their target kill them?” you asked, breaking the heavy silence.

“Yes. Their bodies were drained and left out in a field. I began to think the worst when your parents failed to make two check in calls in a row,” Yoongi took a swig of his drink.

“Their target must be pretty powerful…” your voice trailed off.

“He is. I knew he was strong, but taking out our two best? Inconceivable,” Yoongi scoffed, “I’m gonna kill the bastard with my own hands, I swear to God--”

“I’ll go,” you interrupted.

“You?” Yoongi blinked, “Absolutely not. I already lost your parents, I can’t lose you too--”

“You haven’t been in the field for years. A male vampire would never trust you, so you would have to resort to immediate violence. If he took out both of my parents, then his physical strength must be no joke,” you stated the facts.

Yoongi looked at you dumbfounded before taking another long sip of his drink.

“Fine. But I’ll go with you--”

“No, you won’t. Your presence will blow my cover.”

“I can stay in the next town over.”

“Just to snoop around and fuck up my hunt? No thanks.”

“God, you’re so fucking stubborn, kid. How about this? Give me a night to concoct a safe alibi for you. I get to plan out how your first encounter with him goes. You can choose to kill him on the spot, or go for your usual route,” Yoongi raised his eyebrows as he said the last bit.

“Works for me. I’m pretty sure I can’t suddenly kill him without the element of surprise and a shit ton of luck.”

“You’re willing to seduce your parents’ murderer?” Yoongi couldn’t hide the concern in his voice.

“This is just another job to me. A job is a job. Don’t let your personal feelings get in the way. That’s what you’ve always preached to me,” you shrugged.

That was Yoongi’s last straw. He pulled you in for a tight hug as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He kissed the top of your head.

“I’m truly sorry, ___. I never should have let you into this world. Your parents insisted that I train you. I should have refused, and let you live a normal life,” Yoongi apologized.

“Yoongi, you did nothing wrong. I’m perfectly fine the way I am. Believe it or not, I’ve probably saved a lot of people from becoming someone’s midnight snack,” you try to lighten the mood.

“I just worry about you, you know? It’s almost as if you’re my own kid,” Yoongi sighed, finally letting go of you, “Come back here tomorrow morning at 10am. I’ll have your assignment by then.”

“Please get some sleep, Yoongi,” you squeezed his hand.

“I can’t sleep. Not like this. To be honest, I’m afraid that I’ll dream about your parents,” Yoongi admitted.

Noticing that you didn’t know how to respond, he quickly dismissed what he said.

“I think the alcohol is getting to me. Don’t mind me. Go to sleep, kiddo,” he patted your head.

You excused yourself and headed to your room. Your new target has sparked intrigue. You were in awe at how powerful he must be. You concluded that he must be clever. Your parents knew every trick in the book. They knew how to hunt and kill every and any type of vampire. At least, you thought they did.

You drifted off to sleep. Your last thoughts lingered on the vampire who killed your parents.

That night, you had a strange dream.

You felt trapped. You couldn’t move your body. All of a sudden, you were freezing. The sound of water surrounded you. Everything was pitch black, and soon, it was getting harder to breathe.

“I loved you” you heard a muffled voice say.

You woke up in a cold sweat. What the hell was that? You couldn’t remember the last time you had a nightmare. You weren’t even sure if that could be classified as a nightmare. After getting up to drink some water, you went back to sleep without giving it a second thought.

“Yoongi, this is literally the worst cover you’ve ever made,” you admitted as you examined the file he handed you.

“I worked on it all night! I believe it’s foolproof,” Yoongi argued.

The bags under his eyes got impossibly darker, hinting at the fact that he probably did work on it all night. Upon realizing this, you decided to tone down your criticism.

“Maybe it could work. I’m just worried that I won’t be able to play the part,” you stated.

“I feel like this role is more natural than just being a flirt. But, of course, I could be mistaken,” Yoongi gave you a disapproving glance.

“Okay whatever. Yes, I’ll make it work,” you rolled your eyes.

You were flown out to the target’s town the next day. Your living arrangement had already been prepared. You found yourself settling into a small cottage surrounded by a forest. It looked like something out of a fairytale.

It was oddly freeing being able to go on a mission in normal clothes. There was no need for revealing and uncomfortable clothing. You didn’t have to beat your face with makeup or worry about how your hair looks. Yoongi emphasized the importance of being plain. You needed to be someone who could easily sneak up on the target.

So, with a regular t-shirt and jeans topped with a jacket, you made your drive to the target’s location. Even though Yoongi’s plan was less extreme than you’re used to, the possibility of it taking a turn for the worse was still present. After all, this was the monster who murdered your parents. You couldn’t afford to let your guard down. You took a deep breath. It was now or never.

You pulled up to an impressive mansion. From what you could tell, there were no neighbors for miles. The house looked like something from a horror movie. The yard was overgrown, and the building was decrepit.

There was a large fountain in the middle of the front courtyard. Unfortunately, the fountain had been neglected. The water was filthy and the statues were covered in moss, making them unidentifiable.

Now standing in front of a grand, or rather, once grand front door, you mustered up the strength to knock. You firmly knocked on the door three times. A minute passed, and you couldn’t hear anything from inside.

You tried again, knocking harder and for a bit longer. There was still no reply for a couple of minutes. You began to think maybe he had left. Or maybe he was so weary of strangers that you’d have to force your way in.

You tried a third time. You were about to yell, ‘Hello? Is anyone home?’, but the door slowly opened.

From behind it, peered out the most beautiful being you’ve ever seen in your life. He was so effortlessly stunning that you forgot why you were there for a second. A tall man with dark hair gave you a quizzical look.

“Can I help you?” his deep voice vibrated.

“Hi! I have a flower delivery for a Mr. Tom Davis?” you presented an extravagant bouquet of flowers to him.

“Sorry, you have the wrong house. Which is an incredible mistake, as I don’t have any neighbors remotely close by,” the man was still standing cautiously behind the door.

If you couldn’t lure him out, it would be damn near impossible to kill him like this. On the other hand, you weren’t too eager to try and have him invite you in.

“What really?” you glanced at the address, then dropped your jaw in surprise, “Oh my god, you’re right. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience! My first delivery, and I already botched it,” you began to mumble as you turned back to your car.

This was a calculated mistake, of course. This was all a ploy to make you seem naive and vulnerable, just in a more innocent way than you’re used to.

“Do you need help with directions?” the man called out to you. You smiled, this is just what you’d been waiting for. If you could just catch him off guard, you could easily lop off his head with the silver short sword hidden in your jacket.

“That would be awesome!” you spun around happily.

You walked back up the steps and approached him before he held his hand out.

“Stop right there,” he commanded.

You froze still in your tracks. He wasn’t using any magic, but his sudden request was unexpected.

“Can you hand me the delivery papers from there please?” he asked, avoiding eye contact, “Sorry, I’m not good around strangers.”

You wordlessly handed him the papers. You were dumbfounded. Vampires were the masters of suave and the epitome of seduction. This man gave off no such presence. Other than his otherworldly attractiveness and subtly powerful aura, you never would have pinned him as a vampire.

You quickly put yourself back on high alert. Maybe that was his plan. Maybe he was a more passive vampire. Those were rare, but still a possibility.

“If I’m not mistaken, I think you took a right instead of a left at the crossroads that led you here,” he said quietly as he held out the papers for you.

Now you were flabbergasted. You took back the papers, but awkwardly lingered on his front porch. How would you come back? You couldn’t use a delivery excuse again, that would make him even more suspicious. Your mind raced as you thought of something to say or do.

“Those flowers are beautiful,” he observed.

“Oh these? Yeah I guess. Flowers are supposed to be pretty, aren’t they?” you laughed nervously. What was he trying to do?

“Yes, they are pretty externally, as are most things in life. But I think their true beauty lies within their intent,” he slightly opened the door wider, revealing half of his body.

“These flowers have intent?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“For example, this Mr. Tom Davis either loves his partner a lot, or whoever is sending these to him loves him a lot,” he gestured towards the bouquet, “A mixture of orchids and wax flowers is a nice way to express a lasting love, patience, and sometimes even lasting wealth.”

“These flowers say that much?” you were amused.

“Only to those who listen, I suppose,” he seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

“I wish I knew as much about flowers as you. I don’t know jackshit about them, and I was just bequeathed an entire flower shop,” you sighed. You hoped he would take the bait and prolong the conversation.

“You own a flower shop?” his face lit up for an instant before his features returned to a more somber state, “And, I’m sorry for your loss.”

He almost had a cute boyish charm about him. His condolences seemed sincere, not at all like the false statements you were used to being fed by his kind.

“Well, I guess I do now. I have no idea how to run it, so I’m kind of freaking out about it. I have all these orders but I’m not even a certified florist. Oh, and thanks,” you shrugged, hoping to give off the illusion of helplessness.

“I don’t mean to overstep any boundaries, but maybe I could be of assistance?” he offered, his eyes finally meeting yours.

Something happened at that moment. You felt a pang in your chest as soon as your eyes met. Those weren’t the eyes of a hungry predator. Instead, you saw only kindness and maybe something else that you couldn’t quite place. Maybe Yoongi was wrong, maybe this wasn’t the right target.

“Are you sure about that? I don’t want to overwhelm you,” you took a step closer.

“It may be a nice change of pace for me. I don’t socialize much these days,” he chuckled. Seeing him smile made your heart skip a beat. It was so wholesome. Part of you thought you saw a flash of a fang, but another part of you wanted to deny it.

“Well, you would be more than welcome to come visit my shop! I promise I won't bite,” you winked at him, extending your hand.

You noticed that his smile faltered at the mention of biting, but he quickly dispelled his observable unease. He slowly reached his hand out to meet yours. You prepared yourself for the worst, as he might yank you into his home with enough force to pop your arm out of its socket.

Instead, you were met with a firm handshake. You gave him the name of your flower shop and politely excused yourself. He shut the door as soon as you were off the porch, but you still felt his eyes on you.

You got back into the car and stared at your hand. There was no doubt about it. His hand was just as cold as every other vampire you’ve encountered. It wasn’t the type of cold you could blame on poor blood circulation. No, it was the undead type of cold.

As you drove back to your cottage, you admonished yourself. Why did you feel disappointed that it actually was the target? You should rejoice. You can avenge your parents (not that that really mattered to you). You’re a step closer to getting this job done and going home.

But you couldn’t quite decipher what you felt. You felt as if you had a genuine interaction with him. God knows how long its been since you’ve actually gotten to be yourself. You always had a role to play.

Even though you almost fell for his stupid smile, you couldn’t detect a hint of magic. Nothing he said was laced with magical words of persuasion. There was no shroud of alluring lust that you could feel.

You plopped onto your bed. You needed to focus.

‘All you gotta do is kill the target. Easy peasy,’ you thought to yourself.

You figured you should do your routine check in call. Yoongi was probably worrying himself sick. Usually calls are spaced out every few days, but a call on the first day would ease Yoongi’s nerves.

“Hello?” Yoongi picked up after the first ring.

“Hey Yoongi,” you greeted him. Usually he doesn’t answer these calls, but this job was an exception.

“Thank god you’re okay. How did it go? Did you kill him?” he asked eagerly.

“No, I didn’t have an opening,” you sighed.

“How are you going to meet him again? Don’t tell me you tried to seduce him…”

“No, I did not. Stop assuming that! He has a weird appreciation for flowers, so I told him he can come by the shop. I don’t know why you gave me a florist alibi, but it worked out perfectly.”

“Honestly, I don’t know either. The alcohol mixed with sleep deprivation had me thinking funny things,” Yoongi admitted, “Either way, I’m glad you’re safe. What was he like?”

“He was...nice?”

“...nice? Did you just call the monster that murdered your parents nice?” Yoongi asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know how else to put it. He was weird. He didn’t act like a stereotypical vampire. He didn’t use any form of magic. He was oddly shy. I even began to doubt he was the target until I shook his hand. His hand was eerily cold, so he’s undead for sure,” you explained.

“Sounds like a peculiar case. If you run into trouble, call my personal line, got it?” Yoongi ordered.

“Yes sir,” you affirmed before hanging up.

The next day, you headed to the flower shop that the VEC had set up for you. It was a quaint shop that looked like it had been part of the local town for years. Another impossible feat achieved by the VEC. The town itself was quiet. It was mostly full of elderly folks whose family had moved on to bigger cities.

The shop was filled with flowers of every color. A myriad of different species were spread across the interior. You sneezed the second you walked in. Good grief, this place was gonna have your allergies fuck you up.

A pile of papers were piled up on the front counter. Upon examination, you groaned. Yoongi is SUCH a bastard. He actually gave you flower arrangement orders that needed to be fulfilled.

‘It will help with the authenticity of the shop! Every order has already been prepaid so you have to make them. Have fun~’ he wrote in his instructions.

“You fuckin piece of--” you were cut off when you heard the front door chime.

“Hi! Welcome in,” you exclaimed quickly as you turned around.

An elderly couple had entered the store. They kindly greeted you, saying they thought it looked so pretty from the outside that they had no choice but to come in.

You watched them from behind the counter. You were oddly moved by how sweet they were to each other. They held hands the entire time. The man smiled fondly whenever the woman pointed out a pretty flower. They laughed together as they strolled through the store.

You felt as if you were invading their privacy somehow, but what else were you supposed to do? They were your only customers, so you had to pay attention to them.

Soon your attention turned towards the front door. Would your target actually show up? Vampires are creatures of pride, so they aren’t ones to break a promise. However, this one was different. Maybe he won’t keep his word. That would suck. It would make approaching him even harder.

The old couple shuffled over to the counter with a dozen roses in hand. Together, they had 6 white roses and 6 red roses.

“Would that be all?” you ask with a smile.

“Yes ma’am,” the man replied, handing you money.

“Call me old fashioned, but roses are my favorite flowers,” the woman said to you.

“They’re my favorite too, a classic can never go wrong,” you reply happily.

“Do you know why this bouquet is special?” she asked you.

“Please enlighten me, you say, leaning over the counter.

“Red and white roses together symbolize unity. I’m so happy I was able to find unity with my soulmate,” the man answered, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek.

“Oh stop, you sap! The poor girl doesn’t care about old farts who are in love,” the woman playfully slapped his arm.

“I think it’s incredibly sweet. I’m happy for you two. Please enjoy the flowers!” you bow to them.

“Don’t worry dear, you’ll find your own soulmate too!” the woman called out to you as they left the store.

After they had left, the store quieted down. Your only company was your own thoughts.

Soulmate? Love? It’s not that you didn’t believe in that stuff, it’s more like you didn’t believe that stuff was for you. Your line of work was extremely dangerous. Any hypothetical loved one of yours would constantly be in harm's way.

By the end of the day, you managed to finish 2 extravagant bouquets. The town’s post office was more than happy to deliver your finished products. It appeared that they didn’t get much work nowadays.

This became your routine for the next few days. An entire week had passed, and there had been no sign of your target. Patience wearing thin, you began to think of another excuse to go to his house. Hopefully this time, he would be less cautious. Rain poured outside as if to mimic your growing anxieties.

You had grown strangely fond of the flower shop. Being among the pretty flowers was calming. Putting arrangements together was a new challenge that you’ve never faced before. It was, perhaps, the most peaceful time you’ve had in your life. It was almost as if you were living a normal life.

The front door chimed, and you automatically called out a greeting to the potential customer. You weren’t answered. That didn’t really bother you though, as you were engrossed in reading the day’s arrangement orders. How the hell did Yoongi get so many?

“Hello again,” a familiar deep voice disrupted your focus.

You looked up and once again faced the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He had finally arrived. He looked less cautious than before, but still nervous nonetheless.

“You actually came!” you exclaimed, you couldn’t tell if the excitement was genuine or not.

“I always keep my promises. I’m sorry it took awhile for me to get here. I had to wait for...uh…” his voice trailed off.

“For?”

“The weather.”

“The weather?”

“It’s easier to travel in gloomier weather. Preferably rainy,” he answered concisely.

“That’s odd,” you noted. Of course, you knew the reason why. Sunlight would instantly kill him.

“I suppose I’m rather odd,” he glanced around the shop, “You have a wonderful set of flora here.”

“Thank you! I can’t really take the credit. I just sell them, not grow them,” you say bashfully.

“But it takes a keen eye to pick the best ones,” he replied, examining the flowers closely.

“Everything was here when I arrived. I’ve just been selling and making shitty arrangements,” you slowly crept towards him.

Now was your chance. You could land a fatal blow while the weirdo gawked at flowers.

“You’re making arrangements?” he whipped around to face you with inhuman speed. You couldn’t help but jump back.

“Yeah! I have a ton to go through. I had no idea this place was so popular,” you say quickly, trying to act natural. He was too unpredictable to do anything rash.

“Do you need help with those?” he asked.

“Actually...if you don’t mind…” you gestured towards the huge stack of papers on the counter, “Maybe if you can give me some tips, I can make them faster! And hopefully they’ll turn out prettier.”

“Sure,” he nodded.

The rest of the day was spent making arrangements together. He had a talent for picking the perfect flowers and giving them the perfect placements. You were in awe. Was this a secret vampire power? Or was this guy just weirdly into flowers?

“Hey, I never got your name,” you say. You realized you had only labeled him as “the target” in your head.

“Ah, yes. I’m Taehyung. Kim Taehyung,” he gave you a shy smile, slowly extending his hand to you, just as you did to him during your first encounter.

“Pleasure to meet you, Taehyung! I’m ___,” you replied, giving him a firm handshake.

Taehyung went back to arranging flowers, but you froze in your place. Your eyes grew wide in shock. Your jaw silently dropped. It was a good thing Taehyung couldn’t see your face, or else he’d think something was wrong.

Which there was. Something was definitely wrong. How could you be so stupid?!? You gave him your name. Your real name. One of the most important rules about vampire hunting is to keep yourself as anonymous as possible. Vampire hunters are excellent liars. And you usually were as well. You’ve never slipped up like this before. Was he charming you somehow? You couldn’t detect a hint of magic anywhere.

“___? ___ did you hear me?” Taehyung waved his hand in front of you.

You snapped back to reality.

“Sorry, I guess I zoned out for a second. What did you say?” you gave him an apologetic smile. Not only did you give him your real name, you also just zoned out in front of an extremely dangerous vampire. What the hell is wrong with you today?

“I asked which flower embodies you the most,” he said.

“What? Like personality wise?” you couldn’t help but chuckle, “That’s a weird question. Are you a walking Buzzfeed quiz?”

“Buzzfeed? What is that?” Taehyung looked confused.

“It’s a news company. Or an entertainment company? They basically write clickbait articles. But they also have personality quizzes for literally anything. But wait, what kind of flower would I be? I don’t know,” you answered him.

“Why don’t you know?” he asked innocently.

“Because I’ve never been asked that before?” you were genuinely amused by this guy, “But I guess I’ll humor you. Let’s say I’m a rose.”

“Why a rose?”

“Cuz I’m beautiful, duh. And I can be thorny if you’re not careful,” you winked.

Taehyung seemed to seriously mull over your answer. It was silent for the next few minutes. You meant to come off as playful, but maybe he took you seriously? You couldn’t figure him out at all.

“I don’t think that was a sincere answer,” Taehyung finally said.

“Pardon?”

“I don’t think that was a sincere answer,” Taehyung repeated, “I think you just said you’re a rose because you don’t know many other flowers.”

“Alright, which flower do you think I am then?” you asked, now slightly annoyed.

You were taken aback by how odd this vampire was. He was much too pensive. Too thoughtful. Not once did you feel any lust or hunger in his aura the entire time he’s been in your presence. Not even when you were at his mansion.

“I can’t answer that,” he replied as he tied a ribbon around a finished vase.

“Why not?” you inquired, taking the vase from him.

“I don’t know you. I can’t make an accurate judgement,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t believe him. Any other vampire would have said something charming. They would have picked a pretty flower to ‘compare to your beauty’. It was the perfect question to show off their charisma.

“Which flower do you think you are, then?” you asked.

“Belladonna,” he answered without skipping a beat, “Which is also known as deadly nightshade.”

“And why are you a deadly nightshade?”

“You would understand if you knew me,” he stopped what he was doing to look you in the eyes.

His gaze was piercing. He was an enigma that you became determined to solve. Everything about him was intriguing.

“Is that a threat? Or a flirtation?” you questioned, amused.

“Which do you want it to be?”

“Preferably not a threat.”

“Then take it as a flirtation.”

“Well now that just seems disingenuous.”

Taehyung laughed. It was a real, hearty laugh. His deep laughter echoed around the room. You joined in his laughter. You were actually enjoying yourself. To be quite honest, your guard was completely down. You trusted him. You actually wanted to befriend him.

Closing time had rolled around. By some miracle (which was Taehyung) you managed to get through half the stack of orders. Finished bouquets were scattered across the shop. You profusely thanked Taehyung for all his help.

“All of these are so beautiful! I really could not have done it without you. I feel bad for my previous orders now…” you realized that your bouquets were hideous compared to Taehyung’s.

“I can come help you finish the rest of your orders tomorrow, if you’d like,” he offered.

“Are you sure? I can’t pay you for all your help just yet,” you paused to think if you should offer to hire him.

“Don’t worry about that. Money is not a concern for me. I genuinely would like to help you. At first, it was because of my appreciation for nature. After today, I think I actually enjoy your company,” he smiled.

“Wow, you actually enjoy my company? I’m flattered,” you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t contain your smile.

“You should be, I generally don’t like company,” Taehyung leaned in to close the space between you two.

He was now extremely close. His face just inches away from yours. You could smell his cologne, the scent made him even more alluring. You caught yourself slowly leaning closer to him. You instantly snapped yourself out of his spell.

Pulling back, you looked around the room. You couldn’t find it in you to meet his gaze, even though you felt his eyes on you. You were surprised once you realized that there was still no hint of any magic. What had just happened?

“God, there’s a lot of vases I gotta carry to the post office,” you say after clearing your throat.

“I can help,” Taehyung replied, already beginning to gather up vases.

“You don’t have to! You’ve already helped a bunch today. There’s a cart around back that I can use,” you didn’t understand why you were getting so flustered.

“Please allow me to help you, ___. I’m stronger than I look,” Taehyung gave you a reassuring smile. Of course he was.

“If you insist. I’ll go get the cart,” you happily fetched the cart.

What is this feeling? Were you actually enjoying yourself? You completely forgot that you had to eventually kill him until you were outside by yourself. The thought disappointed you. You quickly shook your head. This monster killed your parents. He’s a monster. A bloodsucker. A beast that must be slain.

Even knowing that, why did you feel so conflicted? Your time with him today was surprisingly enjoyable. He was so unpredictable. Your sparse conversations felt natural, as if he really just wanted to get to know you.

Taehyung helped you load up all of the vases onto the cart. He even pulled the cart for you, accompanying you to the post office. The trip was mostly done in silence. Every time you tried to spark a conversation, he would reply curtly, not giving you much to work with. It was rather peculiar for a vampire to be quiet or shy.

He walked you back to the flower shop after the deliveries were dropped off. You both lingered in front of the entrance, not really knowing what to say.

“So, you’ll swing by tomorrow?” you asked quietly.

“If that’s okay with you, yes. I’d like to make bouquets tomorrow too,” Taehyung nodded earnestly.

“That’s 100% good with me. I’ll see you tomorrow!” you wave at him before turning towards the shop door.

“___--”

“Yes?” you turn around.

“I--nevermind. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Taehyung awkwardly bowed before departing.

His weird standoffish tendencies never failed to entertain you. It somehow added more charm to accompany his handsome face.

You lay in bed later that night, recounting the events of the day.

Did you enjoy hanging out with Taehyung today? Yes, more so than you could’ve imagined.

Did you have the opportunity to kill Taehyung today? Yes, multiple if you were willing to take risks (which you usually were).

Why didn’t you take a risk? You weren’t sure. It wasn’t that you were trying to be cautious, in fact, you were very careless the entire day.

Did you catch yourself almost trying to kiss him? Yes.

Hopefully he didn’t notice that last part. You tried to play it off as soon as you realized what you were doing.

You pulled out your phone to call Yoongi for a second mission check in.

“Hello?” Yoongi answered.

“Sup Yoongi,” you greeted him casually.

“Did you kill the target yet?”

“No, but he came into the shop. He didn’t let his guard down the whole day.”

“The whole day? Was he in the shop all day?” Yoongi sounded confused.

“Yeah, he helped me make bouquets--”

“He WHAT?!?” Yoongi yelled.

“Calm down. He actually helped me get through a shit ton of your stupid orders--”

“You’re telling me that the bouquets I ordered for victims families’ were made BY a vampire? God, you gotta be shitting me, ___,” Yoongi grumbled.

“I think I have to play the long game with this one. He’s too unpredictable for me to land a fatal blow in one strike,” you explained.

“Be careful, ___. I’m glad he didn’t attack you today. Kill him as soon as possible. Then you can come home, and your parents will be avenged,” Yoongi said before hanging up.

Yoongi’s final words swam around in your head before you fell asleep.

#bts smut #kim namjoon smut #kim taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #bangtanshadowfamily #ksmutclub #vampire bts #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung x reader #kpop fanfic #bts angst #bts comedy #taehyung angst #namjoon angst #vampire taehyung #vampire namjoon #bayanihanboost

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naancypants · 4 years ago

Text

maybe this is perfect

Wrote this after 2x12 (+ updated to reflect news about 2x13 & 2x14, hehe) as a sort of speculative confession scene for the finale episode. I hope you enjoy, and I will be polishing this/publishing on Ao3 shortly 💜

2,096 words

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"Hey," Nancy says from behind, twisting both hands around the strap of her messenger bag. "Can we talk?"

At the sound of her voice, Ace straightens from in front of his locker. He lets out a close-mouthed sigh as her words sink into his stomach, and when he turns towards her, the discomfort she's feeling becomes evident in her body language.

"Yeah," he breathes out.

A beat passes where neither makes a move.

Nancy is the first to take a step. "You've been avoiding me for a while now. Ever since the whole.. life-and-death thing with Daniel West." she takes in a shuddering breath, "And I'm sorry that I was willing to let people die to save you. I thought that you would understand, that you would've done the same thing-"

"It's not about the list," Ace cuts in with a shake of his head, "That was a long time ago."

In reality it had only been a few weeks since Nancy and Grant traded a hit list to a professional killer to spare Ace's life, but time seems to move inordinately slow in Horseshoe Bay.

"I know. But that was also the same time I called in for a favor with Celia Hudson..." she allows her sentence to drift off there, urging Ace to connect the unspoken dots.

He hadn't tried to hide his feelings on the situation with Celia, especially whenever he and Nancy talked one-on-one. Yet still, her ability to pinpoint the root of behaviors she already notices in him never fails to surprise.

He clears his throat. "I just... wish you would have consulted me before you made a deal with the devil."

Nancy recalls a recent talk during which she was alone with Ace where he'd briefly confessed his dismay at Nancy's dealings with the Hudson matriarch. A string of monotone words all run together as she attempts to explain, "We already went over this, Ace. I-I-I had to figure out how to save you, there was no time to consider my options."

"Maybe it wasn't worth it."

Within a second, revulsion twists every feature on Nancy's face. "I'm sorry, what?" she demands.

Ace doesn't elaborate. Instead he lifts his raincoat from its hook and shuts the door to his locker, staring down at the garment in his hands with a shameful expression. It isn't long before Nancy has his elbow in a firm grip.

"Hey," she convinces him to whirl around and face her. "You're worth it to me."

You're always worth it to me. You're worth everything to me. A thousand times over, she wants to say. But she doesn't.

"I guess that's my problem."

"Your problem is that I care about you?"

"I don't want to be the reason you sell your soul to the Hudsons."

Nancy blinks, her ferocity weakening as she pulls away. "Aren't I allowed to make my own choices?"

"Of course. But... that doesn't mean I have to like them."

The way he says it is so casual, so lacking in venom that it makes her stomach wrench. He doesn't realize that the only approval Nancy craves is his; she is willing to stand up against even the closest of people in her life - Nick, George, her own father - but not Ace. His opinion of her serves as a compass whenever Nancy is too tired or worn down to trust her own judgment. His opinion is the one that matters most.

If there's anything Nancy can't stand, it's being clouded over with emotion, but the tightness in her throat only warns of an oncoming flood.

"Then what do you want from me? Tell me what I can do to make it better."

It's the most breakable, the most desperate she thinks she's heard herself. Nancy Drew is independent and decisive and strong. So whose voice is it that wobbles in fear, laying down her pride in the hands of another?

An exhale leaves Ace's lungs, heavy with the weight of uncertainties he can't quite place his finger on.

"Honestly? I don't know right now, Nancy. Maybe just... help me understand why before you make these kinds of decisions. I don't want you to get hurt."

Their eyes linger for what feels like an eternity, distanced by walls that neither of them know how to tear down.

When Ace moves, he turns decisively away.

Panic beginning to swell in her chest, Nancy pushes past all the other emotions running through her mind - fear, guilt, vulnerability - and takes one last step into the room before he has the chance to get away.

"I did it because I love you."

If anything could stop him cold in his tracks, it's that particular confession. His eyes meet the floor in front of him, speechless and calculating, each second ticking by in tense silence. He turns to face her once more.

There in the center of the room she stands, the bold and courageous girl detective herself, looking smaller than ever. Her voice is steady, but barely above a whisper now, "Ace... I think I might be in love with you."

Ace stands motionless in awe, save for a swallow and quick shift of his weight.

When Nancy gets nervous, she often rambles to relieve some of her tension. "I didn't know how to say it before, and I- have never actually been in love so maybe I didn't even know what I was feeling until recently, but, you were with Amanda Bobbsey and not in love with me and it's all... very confusing..."

Breath leaves her lungs as quickly as words leave her tongue, anxiety shaking her down to the core. She blinks when the self-awareness sets in, lowering her gaze to the floor for a length of awkward silence.

"Nancy."

Eventually she looks back up to find him just a few feet away now, having crossed the room sometime after she finished prattling on about nothing. His raincoat hits the bench.

"There are a lot of reasons why I can't do this right now." He indicates himself with a curved hand to his chest.

Though her heart sinks, Nancy's eyelids still flutter. "But you- you would? Hypothetically?"

His mouth flattens into something that's not quite a smile, eyes as earnest as ever. "It's just that... y'know, Amanda's only been gone for a week. And I don't want to lose what we have - what all of us have."

"You won't," Nancy states with a furrowed brow, "Why do you think you would lose us?"

He bobs his head a bit. "Things could get complicated between us. Especially considering... things."

"What do you mean? What kind of things?"

"Well, I'm not trying to point fingers, but... there is your track record. With relationships."

It doesn't escape her attention that he refuses to make eye contact when he says the last part. She tenses up and repeats, "My track record?"

Ace opens his mouth to soften the words, but the look on his face is enough to suffice as an apology. Nancy retreats on her own as three particular guys - Ned Nickerson, Owen Marvin and Gil Bobbsey - flash through her mind's eye. Guys she had used as a distraction, a rebound, and a means of empty sexual gratification, all of which Ace witnessed firsthand from the sidelines.

"Yeah I deserve that, don't I," she says quietly.

"No, you don't. That part's fine. It's about everything else."

"Everything else being the Hudsons, Amanda, and losing what we have."

He offers only a nod. Draws in a breath. "Nancy, I want to love you too. And I'm not saying that I don't, but..." his voice breaks, just a bit, but enough for Nancy to notice.

"...It's not the right time," she finishes for him with a resigned nod; "yeah," under her breath.

This time it's Nancy who won't meet Ace's eyes. She darts them all across the room in avoidance, lips pursing together. "I'm- I'm sorry. This is.. not really who I am and I probably shouldn't have said anything to begin with, but-"

"No - no, don't apologize," Ace says with the usual gentle firmness and a slight tilt of his head. "I'm glad you said something. Really glad. In fact, um, if you're not opposed... there is something I wouldn't mind trying before you go off to Columbia."

"Ha. Who says I'm getting into Columbia?" she asks sardonically, crossing her arms.

Ace gives a subtle grin of support. "You'll get into Columbia."

She stops to consider his words, but then emits a soft chuckle, smiling gratefully at her best friend as though there were no mistakes, no confession of feelings, no heartbreak to contend with.

Time drags on as his vague statement from before remains unaccounted for, though almost as if pulled by gravity, there's a mutual instinct that draws them closer together.

Along with instinct, however, is hesitation - a slowness in the way they line themselves up, a caution in the way they read each others' eyes. Gradually his hands find their way to her jawline and before she knows it, in stark contrast to their prior pace, her back is up against metal with the most satisfying warmth she's ever known on her lips.

Nancy's entire body lights on fire, so much that it takes a dazed moment before she is able to react. Her eyebrows lift as she takes full advantage of the moment and locks her hands around the space above his elbows, kissing him back with the fervor of months worth of pent-up feelings all finally coming to surface; hands crawl upwards from his arms, to his shoulders, and eventually land on either side of his neck.

For a few rapturous seconds, they allow themselves to melt entirely into each other with the realization that things won't be like this again for a while; not until they're able to overcome the doubts, the obstacles, the emotional walls that they both know would cause more harm than good if they were to pursue this now.

Maybe this is perfect. Maybe one kiss - one blissful, ravenous taste of just what it is they're missing out on is enough to satiate their appetites for the time being and prepare them for what's to come.

With one last surge forward, hands sliding down his chest, Nancy realizes that kissing Ace never even felt this good in her dreams.

Then, sooner rather than later, it's over.

Though their lips disconnect, everything else remains. A breathless minute comes and goes before either have any words to speak.

"Are you- are you sure you don't want to change your mind?" Nancy finally asks through her teeth, eyes drifting down to his mouth more than once.

A quirk tugs at his face as he steps back, hands remaining on Nancy's forearms for perhaps a touch longer than necessary. "Few more of those and I might."

Nancy gives a wistful giggle, using her shoulders to launch herself away from the lockers right when her phone buzzes.

Ace watches with curiosity as she opens her latest text notification, but waits silently to be filled in.

"It's George. She says they're waiting for us at the Claw," Nancy murmurs with her brow lowered, looking at Ace for a potential answer to her confusion.

Rarely one to disappoint, Ace nods in recognition. "Oh yeah, they took it upon themselves to reschedule game night. I was supposed to tell you."

Nancy raises her eyebrows in good spirit. "Ah. Well, I'm sure glad you told me with plenty of time to spare."

"Come to think of it, Bess pretty much insisted I be the one to tell you. The whole thing must've been a ruse."

Nancy shrugs. "Eh! You know what they say. What's done is done." she waits a beat before thumbing towards the back door over her shoulder. "Join me?"

"Yeah," Ace agrees as he grabs his raincoat and the pair start walking out. "Yeah but I have to warn you, none of what just transpired is going to have any affect on how mercilessly I demolish you in Absurd Code Word."

"Wow, Ace, I think you're underestimating my game night abilities. Have you ever seen me in Absurd Code Word?"

"Don't need to."

"I see. Is it because I'm a girl?"

"C'mon, Nancy. You know me better than that."

The ease with which they're able to shift gears serves as a delicate reminder of how intrinsically they are connected; the level of comfort and stability within their potential when the time is right.

Whenever that may be.

#hi i straight up accidentally posted this while editing on mobile LMFAO #so sorry if it ain't perfect #some things might change over time #will be reposting this later #when i actually have access to a computer again lol

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chamomileteainabuttercup · 3 years ago

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Dincobb Week Day 7 - Alternate First Meeting (SFW)

Welcome to my Dincobb Week fanfic posts! I've written stories and scenes of varying lengths and tones. For clarity I should say that most of these exist as miniature AUs of their own and have no continuity with each other or with anything else I've written about these characters, so in different pieces they may be described having different physical features, personal possessions, preferences, et cetera. (There are three exceptions which I'll note as such when they come out.) Thanks to @djarining, who helped me a lot with brainstorming and discussing my ideas!

For today I have one piece and it's SFW.

Alternate First Meeting - in which the Jawas weren't there but a Mandalorian was

There’s a small, struggling human shape toiling across the desert below the Razor Crest. Din notices it from a distance. Someone alone and on foot. No speeder, no bantha. Leaving an uncertain, wobbly track in the sand. Doomed, out there.

It’s not his problem. And he’s busy. There’s a big bounty to track down, someone Bib Fortuna wants contained in order to consolidate his new power. He hasn’t got a contract from this high up the Tatooine power structure before — it seems the regular guy bit the dust along with Jabba, opening up an opportunity. Din doesn’t know him, but he’s heard he was a Mandalorian, so the galaxy is a little worse off without him — but there’s nothing he can do about that, he just has to stay focused on his own work, take care of his own people.

It’s not his problem.

Damn it. It’s one thing when people have done something to place themselves beyond his sympathy, when they’ve threatened him or what he protects, but he can’t just ignore whoever is stupid enough to try to cross the desert alone and on foot. Maybe he doesn’t have to do anything now. The little figure just fell over and lay still.

Still, he lands close by and goes over to check.

It’s a man, one of the local settlers from the look of him, grey-haired and lanky. He’s not remotely dressed for this — not even a hat to keep off the sun, let alone a robe or a poncho, just a shirt and pants. He didn’t intend to cross a desert in that outfit. He doesn’t have a canteen. He was carrying a camtono — no idea what’s in there but presumably something of value, just not of any practical use for his survival. His breathing is shallow, but he is still breathing. Din picks him up, with some difficulty since he’s a dead weight, slings him over his shoulder, scoops up the camtono and carries him up the ramp into the hold of his ship, where there’s shade.

He places the man on the floor, sitting up against the wall with his head lolling, and examines him. He’s badly dehydrated; when Din pinches the skin on the back of his hand it takes several seconds for it to smooth out again. His lips are chapped and cracked and he’s covered in dust and dirt. He needs water, but if Din just pours it down his throat he’ll choke, so he goes and gets his own canteen, fills it from the galley tap, brings it back and shakes the man’s shoulder a little, crouching beside him.

“Hey, can you hear me? Talk to me. Can you hear me?”

The man stirs a little, his head rolling from side to side before he manages to lift it up. He looks at Din blearily, with suspicion and some alarm, and makes a faint croaking sound, his mouth clearly too dry to speak audibly.

“You’re safe. Drink some water.” He offers the canteen and the exhausted man moves like lightning to grab it. He puts it to his lips and drinks frantically, water trickling from the sides of his mouth into his beard and down his neck as his throat bobs, looking up at Din with disconcertingly sharp eyes. He looks ready to do murder when Din takes the canteen from his hand, but doesn’t have the strength to stop him. “Take a breather,” says Din. “You drink too fast and you’ll throw it back up.”

The man pants and sniffs, and wipes his mouth with the back of his arm before clearing his throat and saying hoarsely, “Who’re you?”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” says Din.

“They send you to get me?” the man asks.

“No. I was flying by and saw you pass out. I don’t know who you are.”

“Name’s Cobb Vanth,” says the man, then, politely, “May I have some more water?”

Din hands it back to him and he drinks again, his eyes closing this time as if in bliss. He lowers the canteen after several more deep swigs with a soft “paah” and catches his breath. He peers at Din again. “Are you a… you’re a Mandalorian, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ve never met a real Mandalorian.” He chuckles. “Heard stories. I know you’re good at killing.”

Din lets that pass. He’d like to think there’s more to him than that but he won’t deny he’s efficient.

“And you’re a bounty hunter, you say?”

Din nods.

“So you’re for hire?”

“You’ve been out in the sun too long,” says Din. “You can get some rest now. Where do you want me to drop you off?”

“No, I’m asking…” Cobb sits up straighter, pulling himself together. “I know some people that need killing. And I can’t do it all by myself.”

“I’m not a hitman,” says Din.

“You don’t understand,” says Cobb. “The Mining Collective.” He’s clearly still exhausted, but pushing himself hard. “They moved in on my town. The night we got news of the Death Star blowing up. We didn’t even have time to celebrate.”

Din’s heard about that in vague terms over the past few days; it doesn’t make a great deal of difference to his day-to-day, though he’s glad to hear of the Empire going down. Maybe sometime soon it won’t be so dangerous to be a Mandalorian. He won’t hold his breath, though. Can’t be disappointed if you don’t get your hopes up. The Mining Collective is bad news too. He nods.

“I lit out. Took what I could from the invaders. Grabbed a camtono,” Cobb says, looking around vaguely and then nodding when he spots it by his feet. “I wandered for days. No food, no water. And then… I was saved.” He gives Din a sly smile and points at him. “I guess every once in a while, both suns shine on a womp rat’s tail.”

“Guess so,” Din says, and begins to stand up. Cobb grabs a handful of his cape and holds on. He’s still weak, but he is quick. “Listen to me,” he says. “I’ve got treasure. That camtono. It’s full of silicax crystals. It’s yours if you help me. Help me take back Mos Pelgo.”

Din has to think about that. A full camtono of silicax is nothing to turn up his nose at. Depending on what Mos Pelgo is like, this could be a side job that doesn’t take too much time away from finding Fortuna’s bounty. Depending on the quality of the silicax he could be almost doubling his payday, and he has a lot of mouths to feed. He sits down. “Tell me about Mos Pelgo.”

It’s manageable. Mos Pelgo is just a flyspeck on the map. The Mining Collective hasn’t committed a whole lot of resources to it because they don’t have to, not to control a small population of frightened and demoralised people armed only with mining equipment. He has an armed ship and it amounts to a few minutes’ intensive work culminating in a fireball outside of town. He circles to make sure there are no survivors leaving the wreckage and returns to land closer to the settlement.

Cobb Vanth is grateful, relieved. It’s a good feeling when he can do that for someone he actually likes. Pretty rare too. Cobb is brave and resourceful and not too proud to ask for help. He likes that. He asks Din to have a drink with him before they settle up and while he declines the drink Din is happy to sit with him while he has one. It’s just the two of them in the shady cantina at the end of the day. Cobb keeps looking him up and down appraisingly, and it’s mildly disconcerting but not unpleasant.

“Would you consider staying?” Cobb asks. “As our defender. We can make it worth your while.”

Din shakes his head. “I have my own people to get back to.”

Cobb sucks his teeth, thinking. “Well, would you consider selling me your armour so I can do it myself? Take it out of the camtono too.”

Din’s back straightens from the more relaxed posture he was sitting in. “No,” he says.

“You can always get more, can’t you?” Cobb protests.

He clearly doesn’t understand what a repugnant suggestion it is, and Din doesn’t have the time or the inclination to walk him through it. “To get my armour you would have to pry it off my dead body,” he says. “Don’t ask me again.”

“Then we’re just as vulnerable when you leave as we were before,” Cobb says. “Sitting ducks for the next syndicate goons.”

“I’m sorry but that isn’t my problem,” says Din. “I’ve gone out of my way to assist and I need to get back to my job. You’re a survivor. You'll survive. Good luck.” He gets up and turns towards the door, he hears the clatter of Cobb’s chair overturning and — the man is quick — he feels something blunt and hard butting into the back of his neck, where he’s only protected by the folds of his cape. If he’s not mistaken, that would be the muzzle of a blaster. Must have been dropped by one of the Mining Collective goons in their rush to leave. Cobb is a survivor, a scavenger; of course he picked it up.

Cobb’s voice is urgent, sharp. “Take it off,” he says, “or I will.” He’s also still recovering from his exhaustion and dehydration. He’s not strong right now. Din simply drops down, whips his leg out and kicks Cobb’s feet out from under him, then rises up as he falls down and steps hard on the wrist of the hand that is indeed holding a blaster. He presses down with his boot until Cobb swears and lets go of the blaster, and then he kicks it away; it skitters under the sagging old piano by the wall. Cobb keeps on swearing and cursing him, sitting up wringing his bruised wrist with the other hand.

“What am I going to do now? What the hell am I going to do now?” he keeps saying.

“I can sympathise with your motives,” Din says, “and that’s why you’re alive now.” The camtono is standing on the table where Cobb set it, and Din picks it up and sets it down between his legs where he sits on the floor. “You should be able to buy the kind of gear you need with this. Try the Jawas, or the black market in Mos Eisley. Don’t tell anyone about me. The Guild takes a very dim view of freebies.”

“That’s it?” Cobb asks, looking up at him from red-rimmed eyes.

“That’s it,” says Din, and turns to go.

“I don’t know your name,” Cobb says abruptly, behind him. Just for a moment, Din wants to tell him. He wants to hold onto the feeling he had that they could have been friends. But Cobb is not his problem. He has more than enough of those.

“I don’t expect our paths will cross again,” he says, and he leaves.

#dincobweek2021 #dincobweek #dincobb week #fanfic

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its-ya-boi-autumn · 4 years ago

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Alright, you asked for it, you got it, Part 4 of my yandere Feitan series~ honestly I feel like this is more so soft yandere rather than intense. I could do better, but as long as you like it~ And you also deserve it for being so accepting of me recently ❤️ If this is kind of out of wack/order it’s because I started writing it and reallllyyyyy got into it but just kept writing and not really thinking so if it’s weird I apologize, but I did have one single goal in mind for it

An incoherent cacophony of voices plead from the room below you. Over the last year and a half, blocking them out had proven difficult, though not impossible. In fact, sometimes they were comforting, even if you knew exactly what was happening. Feitan had brought a couple over not even twenty minutes after you’d woken up. They had been unconscious and slung on either side of a different man’s shoulders. He didn’t bother to introduce himself yet you didn’t mind. You’d ask Feitan later if it has seriously began to eat at you. Likely, it wouldn’t.

The young man and what you supposed may have been a friend of Feitan’s were heard to be shouting profanities and the woman could be heard wailing, though you couldn’t exactly make out the words of the men’s argument, too focused on the little white butterfly fluttering about the dead dandelions in front of your window. Eventually, silence clouded into your mind. Whether Feitan had offed them or you had gotten too good at blocking them out was unbeknownst to you.

Your eyes followed the butterfly back and forth, up and down, around the dead flowers and grass. It seemed so unbothered by such an ugly sight. It wasn’t too common for them to be wandering about the area, though occasionally they popped up here and there, accidentally bumping into the glass but quickly recovering. Just like you. It was almost like a hyper focus on the creature. So small and frail, such an innocent insect. It didn’t think much of pain or misery. It’s only objective was to survive. Eat. Fly. Live. A small part of you in the back of your mind wished for that simple objective. Well, you guessed you had it, though it seemed a lot harder as a sentient being. What with the pain of mental situation rather than just physical stimulation.

Once the butterfly flew away, you came back into focus of your world. The realization of your situation, the familiarity of Feitan’s cabin closing in on you. Your head sank, the sound of screams causing your ears to ring. Your hands covered your ears and you jumped up and left the room. Your breathing had sped up in the slightest and your legs wobbled with the numbness of sitting in one position for too long. You swung the bedroom door open, not bothering to close it behind you–though it bothered Feitan to no end–and headed straight down the hall for the bathroom, where you shut the door quietly and stepped into the tub, not bothering to turn the light on. Your body sank against the wall while you tucked your head between your knees, legs beginning to shake and hands sweating over your ears. Blocking them out wasn’t hard, but when you came back into focus, for some reason you panicked. You hadn’t realized you were crying until you heard yourself sniffle. Why were you crying? You didn’t feel unsafe, you didn’t have sympathy for these people. You’d heard many people die down there, this wasn’t a new thing for you. Why were you so upset?

Eventually, silence spread across the cabin and footsteps clambered up the stairs. You attempted to quiet your sniffling and stop your leg from bouncing off the porcelain of the tub. Feitan and the other man stomped down the hall to his room, stopping at the doorway.

“Where’d she go?” the other mans voice penetrated the silence. It was rough and husky, though no where near comforting or worried. It sounded agitated at your absence. You took a quiet deep breath, waiting for Feitan’s answer. Nothing. The door handle to the bathroom wiggled before knuckles rapped at the door.

“Y/n?” Feitan asked through the wood. Your hands left your ears and rested on your cheeks.

“Yes?” your voice wobbled slightly in attempt to be loud enough.

“Unlock the door.” the command startled you. He didn’t sound harsh or forceful, just a rough way of asking. Slowly, you stood from your position, trying not to trip over the wall of the tub as you left it. You steadied yourself against the wall before shakily reaching out to unlock the door. Afterwards you retreated backwards, hugging yourself and sitting on the floor against the tub. The door opened gently as not to spook you, though the other man seemed to be rather impatient with Feitan’s slowness. You glanced up at him, red-eyed and trembling, knees folded against your chest in front of you. His eyes softened for just a moment before hardening again. He sighed.

“What is it this time?” he asked, coming over to crouch down in front of you.

“I-I’m not- I don’t-” you stuttered over yourself, trying to think of an answer before he grew impatient. He didn’t rush you, simply staying crouched in front of you.

“I think it’s- the- the- um-”

“Oh come on. Spit it out already!” the blonde man shouted through the door. You jumped at the sound, banging your funny bone on the side of the tub. A whimper escaped your mouth at the initial shock it caused.

“I don’t like the screaming...” you hurried to say as to keep from upsetting the other man, who rolled his eyes at your answer. Feitan gave you a perplexed face.

“I was zoning out just fine and then I couldn’t... block it out...” you trailed off to Feitan, who was surprisingly listening to you intently. He stayed crouched down in front of you, now sitting on his knees and turning to the door.

“Phinks you can leave now.” he spoke in his soft tone. Phinks didn’t seem very happy about this order, though he left anyway, the front door slamming behind him. You remembered that not even a few minutes ago he was annoyed by the fact that you weren’t where you were supposed to be. It made your stomach churn. Feitan turned back to face you and stood up.

“Come.” he turned and left you there, expecting you to follow, which you did. You struggled to stand upright for a few seconds before making it out the door and back into the room where Feitan was sitting on the bed, removing his cloak and throwing it into the hamper next to the bed. You kept close to yourself in the doorway just in case he was upset about something. He was awfully calm and collected right then though, so you assumed you had to of been safe. He beckoned you to come to him with his hand and sat on the bed, fiddling with something in his pocket again. You closed the door, moving to sit next to him on the bed.

“The screams bother you, yes?” he started, turning to face you again. You sniffled, nodding your head as your hands played with your fingernails, picking at them gently.

“I thought you said you found them comforting not even a few nights ago.” he started to pry at you little by little, figuring out what had upset you. Your shoulders shrugged.

“I- I don’t know I just... um...” you were just as confused. You’d been nothing but confused for the last few weeks. Staying with Feitan for so long has turned your kidnapping into an almost completely normal home life. You didn’t feel trapped or lonely in any way anymore, I’m fact you thought you were beginning to like it here, or at the very least get used to it.

Feitan hummed, averting his gaze from your face. You didn’t make to return it either. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head down. You wondered what he was thinking about. How to deal with you? You could only assume your discomfort in his hobby was more than inconvenient. Would he shove you down in the crawl space again? It wouldn’t help, but you didn’t know if he’d care. In fact, he might do it just for the sheer fact of you sharing that bit of vulnerable information. You regretted telling him anything at all.

After a few moments of silence, he stood again, leaving you alone in the room. Thinking. Your legs closed tighter and you hunched over yourself. Had you just made a fatal mistake? Should you have just kept your mouth shut? Trembling sensations trickled along your spine and branched to every other bone in your body, muscles spasming slightly and goosebumps tickling your arms and thighs. You shut your eyes to block it out and covered your ears again. You didn’t know what he problem was, just that it was beginning to break you. Something sick twisted against the lining of your stomach, nausea suddenly flooding your mouth with saliva. You were going to vomit. Immediately you rushed to the bathroom again, doubling over the toilet. The thought of his fingers toying with whatever was in his pocket intruded your mind in the midst of your misery. You had to find out what it was. Tonight. Whether he told you or not.

You finished up and cleaned your nose and chin, standing to make way back for the room. Swallowing roughly, your legs carried you back to the bed, sitting at the edge once again. Feitan came back in, shutting the door behind him and standing in front of you.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” he spoke softly, “I’ve noticed a change in your behavior over the course of the year, so I’m going to give you a choice.”

His words confused you. For once, you had a choice. His pale hand reached into his pocket, pulling something out. When he opened his palm, you noticed not one, but two items. One a golden key, it’s ridges rusted from overuse and age. The other, a silver ring with a single miniature gem on top. It looked similar to that of diamond. You took a glance up at him then back at his hand. A light gasp emitted from your lips.

“Wh-”

“I’m letting you make a decision. Right here. Right now.” he dropped to kneel in front of you. Your hands fisted the sheets as your lip wobbled. A choice.

“You can take the key, I’ll give you the nearest location to stay, and you can leave. Or, you can take the ring, and stay with me. Safe and knowing you have someone to feed you and...” he trailed for a moment, “love you...”

The first instinct in your brain was to snatch the key and run. Leave and never come back. Your legs were already bouncing. at the mere thought of it. Yet something in the back of your mind tugged at the idea of staying with him. Guaranteeing what you considered to now be your safety and your home. It had been so long since you’d seen anything outside of these walls and that fence in the back yard. You could go back home, see your mother again. The necklace felt warm against your skin.

“Do I have time to at least think it over?” you tried, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. He stared back at you, then gently shook his head.

“I need your answer now.” he stated flatly. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking. The cons outweighed the pros in staying with him and yet it felt almost wrong to leave him here. It felt wrong to run from him. It felt wrong to be free. You reached a hand out for the key, urging yourself to take it and make your choice. The choice to live happily. Even if alone. But something in his face twitched, just for a second. His brows knitted in sadness and the corners of his lips drooped. Your breath caught in your throat as your body tensed. You couldn’t leave him, not like this.

The ring was cold and heavy in your sweaty palm.

#feitan #feitan portor #hxh #hxh 2011 #hunter x hunter #anime #fanfiction #soft yanderee #yandere feitan

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kgraces · 4 years ago

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With a Fearful Trill

@badthingshappenbingo

Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Captivity

For @sassydefendorflower

Read it on Ao3 here!

The clouds overhead threaten rain, and Dick is seriously annoyed with himself for forgetting his umbrella that morning. The streets of Blüdhaven are crowded, as usual, and the cracked pavement under his feet makes for an uneven walk. Dick takes a sip of his cold coffee, mind alight with some sort of nervous energy. He can’t place it, but something feels off as he walks home from work.

Dick stifles a yawn, stepping over a particularly mangled piece of concrete. His shift at work was a tough one; he’s wrapped up in a nasty homicide case as both Officer Grayson and Nightwing, and his brain feels sluggish after hours of wading through evidence. He checks his watch, frowning at the way the numbers seem to blur together. He thinks he’ll have time to get in a quick nap before patrol, at least.

The foot traffic thins as Dick gets closer to his apartment, so it catches Dick off guard when a man pushes past him, hitting his shoulder roughly. Dick stumbles a bit, and before he can recover his footing, electricity arcs through him. Getting tazed hadn’t been a part of his plans for the day, and Dick only has a moment to mourn for his nap before he crumples to the ground. The sole of a boot enters his line of vision before it connects with his temple. He loses consciousness, sinking into the peaceful dark.

When Dick was a kid, he used to try to joke with Bruce about the stupid ‘Boy Hostage’ nickname. Of course, Bruce was never fond of the ‘X days since our last kidnapping incident’ whiteboard, but Dick thought it was hilarious. He mentally resets the counter back to zero when he wakes up tied to a chair.

Years of vigilante experience honed into instinct kick in as soon as he regains awareness. He keeps his eyes closed and his body lax, listening hard to determine whether or not he’s alone in the room. He was kidnapped as a civilian, so he can’t fight his way out, but he can use his skills to help himself however he can.

Still, this is probably going to suck.

Once he figures he’s alone, Dick carefully opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. A dimly lit basement greets him—underground, if the chill in the room is any indication. A short window close to the ceiling lets in weak sunlight through a heavy layer of grime. He’s mostly uninjured—for now, a voice in the back of his head sings—but restrained at his wrists and ankles. His head aches from getting knocked out, and his muscles feel stiff, but he’s okay. He just needs to tough this out until Bruce can track him down and orchestrate a rescue from Batman...

Dick’s blood runs cold.

Bruce is off-world with the Justice League.

Before he has a chance to really let the panic set in, he hears heavy footsteps and the jingle of a set of keys. The lock turns, light spilling into the room as a burly man steps across the threshold. He smiles, a nasty thing, and shuts the door behind him with a heavy thud. He holds up a cell phone, still smiling, and Dick recognizes his own phone in the man’s hand.

“Mind explaining why your daddy ain’t answering his phone?” The man says, a sneer creeping onto his face and into his tone.

“Call the WE number,” Dick says, voice more tremulous than he feels. Judging by the last vestiges of daylight leaking through the window, it’s still dusk, and if he knows his little brother, he’ll still be at work. Dick can only pray Tim will answer. The man dials the number, leaving them both to wait with bated breath.

“What do you need, Dick?” Tim’s smooth voice comes over the line after a few heartstopping moments. “I’m a little bit swamped right now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Grayson can’t come to the phone at the moment,” the man says, tone oily. Dick hears Tim’s sharp inhale over the line. “If you want him back in one piece, it’ll cost you.”

“I need proof of life, first,” Tim says coolly. The man sighs, as though he’s exasperated already, but he presses the phone against Dick’s ear, regardless.

“Tim?” Dick says, voice breaking just a little—the perfect image of a frightened civilian. His brother hums softly in acknowledgement. “Don’t worry about me; I’m fine. I’ll be okay.” He starts to ramble a little, but he’s cut off by a sharp blow to his ribs. He exhales a wheeze as the phone is jerked away from him.

“One million dollars and you get him back. Every hour you delay will cost him.” The man hangs up before Tim can reply, but Dick isn’t worried. Tim’s already tracking him, and the cavalry will be here soon enough.

He looks up at the man holding him for ransom, disdain etched on his features as he looks into beady eyes. The man scoffs and shakes his head, turning to exit the room again. Dick wants to make a quip, some sort of stupid pun, but he can’t let himself seem too much like Nightwing, not right now. He bites his tongue and sits silently as the door swings shut again.

His headache worsens as the time passes. The light from the small window fades little by little, but it’s hard to track the time. Dick waits patiently, but his limbs itch for movement. He hates being restrained like this—cut off from grounding himself in motion. Nervous energy builds up in him, and he has to tap his fingers against the wooden chair arm to stop himself from losing it. He hopes Tim hurries up.

The next time the door opens, it isn’t to a vigilante, but rather to Dick’s captor. His smile is meaner, somehow, and he’s holding a hammer in his hands. Dick’s breath catches in his throat. Has it already been an hour? He doesn’t know, but judging from the man’s impatient pacing around the room, Tim is late.

The hammer swings, and Dick’s hand shatters under the force of the impact. He stifles a sob, and bitterness flares to life in his chest at the chuckle he hears at his side. He’s definitely got a few broken bones, but it’s not enough. The weapon hits Dick’s fingers next, and he nearly screams as white-hot agony roars through him. The man steps back, admiring his handiwork, before he snaps a photo with Dick’s phone and presumably sends it to Tim.

Dick glares up at the man, hair matted with sweat as it falls into his eyes. He nearly snarls out a threat, but he has to resign himself to acting as a civilian would—terrified and vulnerable. He hates it, but it’s the role he has to play for now. The man leaves again, and Dick lets out a shaky breath.

What’s taking his brother so long?

Another hour must pass. The sun has gone down, casting the room in shadow, and when the door to the small cell opens again, the light is blinding for a moment. Dick cringes back when he hears heavy footsteps. He can’t go very far with his limited range of motion, though, and his arms strain against the zip ties lashing his wrists to the chair. He hears a heavy sigh, but it isn’t his captor.

No, the sound is mechanized, warbled by vocal modulators.

Jason.

His younger brother is at his side in an instant, using a knife to free him from his restraints. Dick hears him curse lowly at the sight of his mangled hand, so he offers Jason a reassuring smile. It probably comes across more as a grimace, but he tries his best.

“C’mon,” Jason says, helping Dick to his feet and steadying him when he stumbles. “Tim’s going crazy upstairs. Someone needs to stop him before he permanently cripples someone.”

“You left him alone to deal with them?” Dick asks, raising a brow. “That’s just not fair.” He pauses as a thought occurs to him. “Wait, how many guys are up there? I’ve only seen the one.”

“Ah,” Jason says, and Dick can hear the cruel smile in his tone. “That guy. There were five others, but last I saw, Tim was going toe-to-toe with that one. Last man standing and all, you know how it is.”

“He saved him for last on purpose,” Dick says with a sigh. His brothers are ridiculous sometimes. Overprotective over him, even though Dick is the eldest and should be worrying over them, instead.

They make their way up the stairs, with Jason supporting most of his weight, since his legs are still wobbly from being restrained for hours. Dick can hear the sounds of the fight grow louder as they reach the first floor—sounds of shattering glass and wood splintering reaching him, along with the telltale thwack of Red Robin’s bo staff hitting its target. Dick almost winces in sympathy, but the pain in his hand keeps him from feeling bad for the guy.

“Let’s get out of here, Red!” Jason calls, sounding amused. “I got him, and GCPD is already on their way.”

“Fine,” Tim replies, tone lilting on a whine. He emerges from one of the rooms branching off from the hall a moment later, looking perfectly put together, despite the fight. “Want the last word, Hood?”

“Don’t I always?” Hood passes Dick over to Red Robin and draws a firearm, heading toward the room Red had just left. Dick sighs, shaking his head as he hears both Hood and his assailant start shouting. He turns his attention to Tim.

“Thanks for the rescue,” he tells his little brother.

“Like we would just leave you there?” Tim asks, tone sardonic. Dick grins at him. “Let’s get you back home, okay?” Dick nods and lets Tim lead him out into the night. One of the Batmobiles is already waiting at the street corner, and as soon as Tim gets Dick settled in the backseat, Jason joins them, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the car. Tim pulls down his cowl and sends an unimpressed look toward Dick.

“What?”

“You’re an idiot for letting yourself get injured like that,” he says. “Also, B’s losing his mind.”

“You told Bruce?!” Dick practically yelps.

“Alfie insisted,” Jason says, turning to look at him. Sometime between starting the car and now, he’d tossed his helmet onto the passenger seat, leaving him with just a domino mask obscuring his features. “No one says no to Alfie.”

“Especially once those assholes started hurting you and broke the terms of the deal,” Tim grumbles. “They only waited half an hour.” He glances over at Dick, reaching out to examine the damage done to his hand. “Sorry they had the chance to hurt you, Dick.”

“It’ll heal,” he says easily, brushing off Tim’s concerns. He ruffles his little brother’s hair with his uninjured hand. “Please tell me Bruce didn’t come back to earth over this.”

“Okay then, we won’t tell you,” Tim says, grinning wickedly. Dick groans, letting his forehead rest against Tim’s shoulder. Tim and Jason laugh, but Dick can’t muster up a scowl to send their way. He’s safe, and he’s hurting and exhausted. Tim seems to notice him droop, slumping against his side a little more with each passing moment. “Get some rest, Dick. We’ve got you.”

“Sleep it off, Dickiebird,” Jason says. “You’re in for a hell of a lecture when you wake up.”

“Prolong the inevitable,” Tim agrees, nodding along. “We’re taking bets on whose lecture will be worse: Bruce or Alfred.”

“Nah,” Dick mumbles, smiling a little as Tim carefully wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Dami’s will be the worst of the bunch.” His brothers both snort, and Dick falls asleep to the sound of their laughter.

His brothers have him. He can rest easy.

#my writing #dc #batfam #batman #nightwing #red hood #red robin #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #bad things happen bingo #prompt: captivity #batbros

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cocovikings23 · 4 years ago

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New Start - Chapter 5 (Modern Ivar x Reader)

This is the fifth chapter, it's the first time I write sex scenes, I'm not comfortable with it yet. Sorry if it's below your expectations.

Words : 2401

Warnings : Sex scene

Gif by The Real Cali Cali

Chapter 5: The Flight

Monday morning 8am...

You arrive at the office, Hvitty and Ubbe are already there, they are working on a big file with a certain Harald who is a friend of their father. They are in video-conference with Harald, they are in a good mood. You sit behind your desk and open your laptop, you receive a notification from Ivar on your e-mail, he asks you to come to his office.

Ivar had left late Sunday morning after having breakfast with you. He sent you a message as he walked through his door to let you know that he had made it home and enjoyed being with you that night. On Sunday night you slept in his place, sniffing your pillow that still had his scent on it. It soothed you, calmed you down...

You leave your office, the two brothers are not paying attention, they are too busy in their conversation with Harald, you go to Ivar's office. The door is closed, you hesitate to knock or enter directly without his authorization but you don't know what mood he's in this Monday morning so you decide to play it safe and knock.

"Come in! "You hear Ivar shouting behind the door, you go in, he is sitting down, he is typing a letter on his computer, "please sit down Y/N", he nods at you and points to the chair on the other side of his desk. You carry out his orders, he is very direct in his words, but despite everything Ivar does not seem to be in a bad mood, however you prefer to stay on guard. You know he can turn around in two seconds.

Ivar speaks again after shutting down his computer, "Good Y/N, thank you for coming so quickly, I have good and bad news. The good news is that I can confirm that you are going with me and Floki...", you feel relieved because you really want to go with him, to be away from his brothers, away from the company, you hope to know another Ivar. Then he resumes, "the bad one: our flight is at 2pm. I have already arranged everything for the flight, we take Father's private jet. I leave you your morning to prepare your suitcase. »

"Oh well, okay...", you're very surprised and you assimilate as much as you can the information that Ivar has just told you and what the fuck?! A private jet? In the end, it only half surprises you.

"If you have, I'd like you to take a cocktail dress with you, we have to meet many of our employees at a dinner. "You can go home now, meet us at the airport at 1pm. ».

" All right Ivar, thank you for giving me this opportunity to go with you and Floki. "

Well, now it's time for you to go pack your suitcase.

You arrive at the airport on time, you see in the distance Ivar and Floki who is visibly happy to see you again, he takes you in his arms to greet you, "Y/N! I am happy that you are coming with us, a feminine touch to this business is welcome".

"Hello Floki, nice to see you again", you blush slightly, Floki is someone who intimidates you a lot. You notice that Ivar observes you hugging each other with a touch of jealousy in his eyes, he soon puts an end to your embrace, "I think that for hugs it's enough, we have to go if we don't want to miss our plane".

A stewardess comes to pick you up and accompanies you to the tarmac, there is a big white private jet with the Lothbrock coat of arms, without any doubt this is the plane you are going to take. A man in a black suit welcomes you aboard the jet, he looks like a bodyguard in a way. The jet is sumptuous and luxurious: the seats are in beige leather, there are champagne buckets between each double seat, the jet's upholstery is light brown with some brown shadows.

Ivar pushes you with his hand to the bottom of the plane, there is a private room quite distinct from the rest of the aircraft. There are only two seats side by side with no armrests separating them, on the other side there is a small fridge. You sit on the seat that is close to the window, Ivar closes the curtain that separates you from the other part of the plane, he notices your surprise, "I don't want us to be disturbed",

"But Floki, he's going to be alone all the way? "you emphasized,

"Don't worry about that old fool, he'll listen to his classical music and start rambling on about his philosophical thoughts, we'll have landed that he won't even realize it.

"All right, I see," you're still worried about Floki, who's friendly and weird, you have to admit.

Ivar gets rid of his crutches and sits on the seat next to you, he adjusts his legs to be comfortable. You look at your hands, play with your thumbs, you're extremely stressed to be alone with Ivar. He looks at you for a little while, he puts his hand on yours, "Don't be nervous, the flight is going to be fine". You turn to him and give him a little smile to make him feel relaxed when it's just the opposite and no, it's not the flight that makes you anxious.

The captain announces that he's about to take off, you hear the engines start up. The plane moves on the runway and in less than two minutes you were already at altitude. Ivar put his hand on your thigh during takeoff and it was still there. He squeezed it tight enough for you to want him to keep that grip on you or even tighten it a little more.

He leans towards you and whispers in your ear, "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time...", he takes your face with his free hand so you can look at him and he kisses you. It was still a form of kiss that the previous times, there is so much lust in this one, your legs wobble, thank goodness you're sitting down. He frees you from the kiss and then plunges his hand under your t-shirt to grab one of your breasts through your bra. You don't move, you remain as if frozen and tense, Ivar feels it "If you don't want me to touch you, I won't", you nod and make him understand that he can continue his exploration.

"Do you want me as much as I want you? "Ivar wants to make sure that he doesn't make a mistake.

"Yes, I want you Ivar", you let go of these words between two gasps, Ivar knows how to deal with you, he immediately found your weak point: your chest.

"Well, I think we can get down to business", his voice is full of eroticism, "but you'll have to help me, unfortunately I can't move my legs as I want and it's a small place", he continues to whisper these words in your ear.

"Yes, of course Ivar, I understand", you remove on your own initiative your t-shirt by letting expose your black lace outfit. What a good idea to have left a touch of feminism on you!

Ivar takes your breasts out of your bra, kisses your nipples one after the other, licks them and gently bites your nipples. You turn towards him so that he is not too bad to reach you. You gasp under his tongue. He is soft and very enterprising at the same time, the perfect combo is Ivar: an iron hand in a velvet glove.

He brings his kisses up to your neck: the second place where you are hyper sensitive! Ivar slips his hand into your pants, he caresses you over your thong, the tissue is so thin that you feel the same sensations as if it were directly on your skin. You raise your buttocks a little and make your pants go down on your ankles, Ivar smiles seeing you there in front of him in underwear, "Good girl".

You blush when you hear these words, seeing you ready to please him Ivar asks you to lie down and stick your back against the window so that your sex is facing him. You do this with shyness. You are so vulnerable in this position but Ivar is delighted to see you like this. He removes your underware, slides it along the legs and throws it over his shoulder. He bites his lower lip when he finally sees your sex dripping with pleasure for him.

He slides his head between your legs and you feel his warm tongue on your lips, lightly tickling your pleasure bud. You're panting, moaning, you've wanted to feel this sensation since the first day you saw him. He speeds up his tongue strokes and then he gently moves away from your entrance to sprinkle little kisses on the inside of your thighs, it makes you shiver and Ivar likes the hold he has on your body, a body he is discovering for the first time but it was as if he had known you forever.

He puts his thumb on your clitoris, the sensation electrifies you, he puts a finger in your wet pussy, starts coming and going and then adds a second one, your head tilts back, he accentuates his gestures with his tongue that plays with your clit. You feel this warmth in your lower abdomen, it has been a long time since you have felt such well-being, then you let yourself go completely to this wave of pleasure that invades you, you moan a little noisily, one of your hands tightens very strongly the leather seat where you do not fail to leave nail marks. Your first orgasm in months and given by Ivar Lothbrock. You gradually come to your senses, then Ivar breaks the silence, "Come on me, I want to feel you, I want to be inside you," you turn your eyes to the curtain for fear of being caught, he notices and reassures you, "No one will come and bother us unless I give the order. »

"Okay, I trust you, I wouldn't want you to get into trouble...", you still say shyly with the rosy cheeks of the previous pleasure,

"I'm the boss, I'll never get in trouble", her voice is soft and Ivar turns around, "However you could get in trouble if you don't bring your pussy on my cock! ", here is the authoritarian boss.

Ivar opens his bag and takes out a condom and... a pair of handcuffs, your eyes widen at the sight of this instrument a lot of things go through your head: How did he get these handcuffs because they are not handcuffs that you can find in a sex shop, no they are real handcuffs. Did he ever use them? Did he foresee what was going to happen?

Ivar takes you out of your thoughts, "Put your wrists behind your back! " Without thinking you do it, he ties your wrists, he tightens the handcuffs, that dominating side of Ivar excites you more. He lowers his pants and boxers to half thigh, his cock is long and thick a real treat for the eyes, you dare not imagine for the rest.

He opens the little package and slides the condom on his shaft, then he takes you by the hips to settle you on him, you slip carefully on his cock. He sinks inch by inch into you, you are warm and tight, he doesn't fail to make you notice it. He gives you a little time to adjust to him, then slowly you start to ride him. You put your handcuffed hands on his knees hoping not to hurt his legs. Ivar helps you by kicking you more, getting louder and louder, your ass bounces off his pelvis, a rattling sound echoes through the booth.

Your warm breaths mix into a fiery kiss, he kisses your neck and goes down to your chest, he bites your nipples hanging down, you gasp under his tongue strokes. His hands cling to your hips to give you more impetus to crush you on his cock. Ivar pushes you to your second orgasm, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You let a loud moan come out of your mouth, Ivar soon arrives and bites your breast and lets out a guttural sound.

You are all panting, Ivar has put his head on your chest, you have your chin resting on top of his head you are out of breath. You look at each other, satisfied with what you've done, Ivar takes your face and kisses you and then pulls himself together, "I'm going to untie you and then you can put your clothes on".

"Thank you Ivar", your voice is still trembling, he unties you then makes sure that he hasn't made any marks on you, he caresses your wrists and puts a delicate kiss on each one. You take back your clothes that are still lying on the cabin floor and put them back on.

You adjust your hair one last time and sit down again next to Ivar, who had specifically pulled up his pants. He looks at you, you smile at him, he puts a little kiss on the corner of your lips and then he takes your hand and keeps it preciously in his.

The flight went smoothly until the landing. Saying to yourself : first time in plane that’s cool !

@youbloodymadgenius @therealcalicali @saldelys @flokisdaughter @waiting4inspiration @whenimaunicorn @zuxiezendler @peaceisadirtyword @peachyboneless @honestsycrets @oddsnendsfanfics @ijustwant2write @thevikingsheaux @castielsangelsx @a-mess-of-fandoms @laketaj24 @ivarswickedqueen @hrhbella @lisinfleur @heathen-whore @car-karaoke

#ivar the boneless #modern ivar #vikings #fanfic #sexscenes #floki #Hvitserk #modern hvitserk #modern ubbe #ubbe

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buckysgoldenheart · 5 years ago

Text

Sacrifice: August Walker x Reader

Summary: When Lane finds you, August if forced to make a choice.

Words: 1432

Hope you guys like it! Comments are always appreciated.

“It’s not him!” Ethan yelled through the phone.

“What?”

“The man we have here is not our main guy! He’s just an accomplice! It’s been Lane behind this all along! Walker, get Y/N and go! He knows where you are.”

August paled and dropped the bag of groceries you asked had him to pick up; the contents splattering and flying across the floor, then clicked off his phone and sprinted back to the small boat he used to get from the mainland to the tiny island Hunt had sent you both to.

He screamed your name as he hopped off the boat into the water and hurried to the house. His body slammed through the door he told you to lock, his eyes quickly searching for your face. A breath escaped when he saw you standing in the doorway to the bedroom, but the sense of fear radiated throughout the room.

Your eyes were red, and you shook your head slightly. “August—,” You whispered, lips quivering.

August took a step towards you, and with that step your body was harshly pushed into the room by the gun at the back of your head.

“Hello, Mr. Walker,” Lane’s eerie, gravelly voice greeted. “Please, have a seat. We have something we need to discuss.”

“Y/N—,” August’s fingers twitched your way as he softly spoke your name, praying it conveyed what he hoped you already knew: He would do whatever necessary to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

“Oh, don’t worry. As long as you give me what I need, nothing bad will happen to your woman.” Lane pushed you forward again, the gun now against your spine. August sat as you did, his body in a large chair a few yards away from your place on the couch where Lane had also pulled up a seat. “Now,” Lane began but paused at the look August was giving you. “I know…it’s hard to see the ones we love used against us. Truthfully, I had no intention of threatening her. She means nothing to me, though I know you do not feel the same, and unfortunately, that condemned her.”

August’s eyes never left yours. He was beating himself up inside, you could tell. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands, then glared at Lane. “What do you want?”

“Hunt,” Lane demanded. “He has something I want, and now…I have something you want.” He then dragged the muzzle of the gun softly down your cheek. When you flinched, you saw something in August’s eyes darken.

“What does he have?”

“An associate of my mine is currently in his custody. If he is released and you let me walk out of here freely, I’ll let her go. Her pretty little face will stay intact,” Lane said, casually gesturing to you with the gun. “I assume this is a deal you are very interested in?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Lane smiled devilishly. “Both of you can escape this unscathed, Mr. Walker. All you have to do is make a call to Ethan Hunt and let me speak with him. If your lives are not something he is willing to risk, then he will do as I ask.”

You closed your eyes at Lane’s demand. Ethan releasing an ally of Lane’s would only put the world much more at risk. The answer to this problem was clear. Your life was a small price to pay for the safety of, potentially, thousands or more. But by the way August looked at you, you knew his decision had already been made.

“Fine.” August stood, then pulled a phone from his back pocket. “Hunt’s number is programmed into the phone. He will answer if he thinks it’s me. I give you the phone, you give me Y/N.”

Lane smirked then pulled you up with him by the arm. You were led the few yards to August and when you were right in front of him, Lane released you but returned the gun to the back of your head. “Phone,” He insisted, his hand out for it.

When August slapped it into Lane’s hand, Lane pressed some buttons and held it up to his ear. August held your nervous stare for five brutally long, painful seconds until Lane’s voice broke the silence.

“Hello, Ethan. I would like to make a deal with you,” He started as he shoved you into August’s arms.

August held tight as he released a breath, his heart pounding vigorously in your ear.

“August,” You whispered. “What did you just do?”

He leaned down and touched his forehead to yours while his hands cupped your cheeks. “I had to,” He whispered back. “I’m sorry.”

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

You waited in the next room, pacing and gnawing at your thumbnail, while August went to speak with Ethan about the events of the day before. When the doorknob turned and August walked through, you rushed to him.

“Well? What did he say?”

August took a deep breath, then said “He understands why I didn’t hesitate to save you. He agreed that keeping Lane’s associate was not worth risking your life.”

Your eyebrows pinched together. “That’s all he said?”

“That’s all that matters,” He deadpanned. “The rest will be handled, but I do not want you worrying about that.”

You sighed heavily and turned away, replaying the day before when August saved you over in your mind. You couldn’t count how many times the memory had made its way into your brain in the last twenty-four hours. “This could all have been avoided if—”

“Do not say it!”

You spun around fast at his deeply aggravated tone. “August—”

“Do not tell me that I should have let you die!” He yelled as he came closer.

“For the sake of thousands of lives? If anyone died now because of this, I would feel so guilty.”

“Stop.”

“August…”

“Stop!” He shouted, grabbing the sides of your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “What, did you want to die? Did you want me to not even hesitate and just let Lane kill you?!”

“No, of course not, but--”

“Then what the hell are you trying to do to me?” August’s nostrils flared for a moment before he managed to take a breath and calm himself down. He ran a hand through his hair, then placed both on his hips. “Look, you and I have been dancing around this thing between us for months,” He said, “But I can’t keep acting like I don’t love you, and you can’t expect me to do something like this as if I don’t even care. I am not willing to sacrifice you…for anything.”

Your heart clenched at the pained expression on his face. Your body moved closer to his and you placed a hand on his chest, making sure he met your eyes. He took the chance to wrap his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder, letting out a puff that warmed your skin. “I understand. If it meant saving you though, I would do anything, even sacrifice myself.”

August’s head shot up and he frowned. “Well don’t!”

“August,” You smiled and lifted your lips to meet his for a few seconds but pulled back just as he started to respond. “I love you too. I don’t want anything to happen to you either.” You cupped his face in your hands and ran your thumbs over the scruff of his jaw. “But I still can’t help feeling like something might happen to others, and if it did, it would be all my fault.”

“No. If anything, it would be mine. I left you alone and it made you vulnerable,” He said as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Hunt and I are going to fix this. I promise.”

“…Does that mean you’re leaving?”

He nodded his head, a heartbreaking expression on his face. “Unfortunately.”

“How long?”

“A month, probably. We already have leads on where they are going. Shouldn’t be all that difficult to find them.”

Your eyes dropped to your shoes. “Oh.”

“Hey. It’s OK.” August tucked a finger under your chin and lifted. “Think you could wait for me?”

You chuckled lightly. “For a month? Yea, I think I could handle that.”

He grinned in the way he does that makes your heart melt and has your legs wobbling. “Good,” He whispered, then he placed his lips on yours, tightened his arms around your waist, and lifted you off the ground.

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years ago

Text

Rewind Chapter 3

Awareness came in pieces, like waves lapping over the shore, slowly bringing back each sense. Ford yawned and rolled his neck to ease out a crick. He really should stop sleeping sitting up.

The warm form cuddled against him stirred and he placed a soothing hand on their head of soft curls until they stilled, burying their face in his shirt. Ford hummed happily and let his head rest back against the headboard, content to just stay here forever…

…wait a second.

Ford’s eyes flung open with a jolt.

What had he been thinking, falling asleep? Sleep was the one thing he couldn’t afford! He looked around quickly, heart pounding. He was still sitting against the headboard of his bed, pillows propped behind his back and a child-sized Stanley curled up in his lap, the way they had been when he must have fallen asleep part way through telling stories of his previous discoveries. His journal lay open at his feet. To his relief it was bereft of cryptic code and taunts. Bill must have been busy, or perhaps had not noticed Ford’s slip-up. He hadn’t been possessed.

Ford cursed himself. How could he have made himself vulnerable like that? The portal was wide-open for the taking! And there was no telling what Bill Cipher would do to his brother – his child brother, who was currently helpless and foolishly, trustingly snuggled against the front of Ford’s turtleneck.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. He couldn’t change the past, only the future. Now he had other things to concentrate on – namely, building a Bill-proof barrier, since his investigation on how to cure Stanley had hit a snag – he had none of the components he would need to start reverse-engineering a cure. The sun peeking through his window told that he must have been sleeping for at least an hour. Morning was already slipping away from him.

“Mmmph.” Stanley mumbled. Ford’s hand was still in his curls. Ford couldn’t resist ruffling those curls as Stan pulled his head up, yawning and blinking sleepily. “F’rd?”

“Good morning, Stanley.”

Stan rubbed at his eyes. “Whaza time?”

“Time to start working. Come on, up you go.” Ford lifted his brother from his lap. Stan whined at being put down on the covers.

“Nooooo, ‘s cold!”

“Then hurry up and get moving.” Ford swung his legs over the bed and stood. “I have a lot to do today.”

Stan grumbled the whole time. He was still wearing that old shirt. Perhaps Ford should get him something that fit better? No, it would be useless in a day or so anyway.

Ford spoke to himself as he walked.

“Now, I’ll have to go as soon as possible to get that hair – what’ll I do with you? Oh, children need to receive their daily nutrients, don’t they? Hmm, when was the last time I ate?” He couldn’t recall. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter, I’m an adult, I can stand to skip a few – hmm. Weeks? No, that can’t be right. I should eat too. I have coffee? Is it safe to give a child coffee?” He opened the fridge and stared in dismay at the rows of empty shelves. “Oh. That’s why I haven’t eaten. Guess I’ll just have to – buy some supplies. Yes. Come along Stanley, we’re driving into town.”

“Who’stha whatnow?” Stan stumbled into the kitchen after him. That was right, his brother was certainly not a morning person. Ford wondered again how ethical it was to give a child coffee. Probably shouldn’t risk it.

“Town, Stanley. I have to do some shopping. And come to think of it, you’ll need someone to watch you…” Unless he could just leave the child locked in a room? Ford wasn’t exactly familiar with babysitting protocol. Maybe it was better to just bring him along for now.

He dropped one of his old coats around Stanley’s shoulders and ushered him outside. The coat was a good call – it was still freezing. Ford was climbing into the car when he hit another snag.

“…ah.” He didn’t have a booster seat. Stanley would be riding in the back seat, it seemed.

Luckily the town was still waking up, so it was quite simple to walk in, grab some supplies, pay and leave without having to deal with the hustle of crowds. Ford pulled up in his driveway with a relieved sigh. He thanked his lucky stars that Gravity Falls was slow to wake on a Sunday… wait, no, what day was it?

Didn’t matter.

With his arms full of groceries, Ford nudged the door open with his foot. He could hear Stan grunting under the weight of his own load as he placed the bags on the kitchen bench.

Maybe he had gone a little over the deep end, Ford admitted to himself as he went about sorting groceries. He hadn’t realized until this morning that his fridge was empty. That did explain the hollow feeling in his stomach though. Come to think of it, when was the last time he ate? Not counting the copious amounts of coffee and energy drinks he ordered weekly.

It also explained Stan’s rumbling stomach. Honestly, Stan should have said something if he was hungry!

Said child wobbled his way into the kitchen with a shopping bag in his arms. Ford took it and started unloading it as well. Marshmallows – he didn’t remember buying those. Maybe Stanley snuck them into the cart. Ford could remember the gleeful giggles he and Stan would break into when they’d managed to sneak a treat into their mother’s shopping cart. Stan was always better at it than Ford.

Ford shook his head to clear it. He had no time for nostalgic thoughts anymore. He snagged two frozen single-serve pies plates and started searching for clean plates to put them on. Finally he found two with only a few crumbs on them – he brushed one off and placed it in the microwave, trying to remember if he’d paid his electricity bill recently.

He must have, because the microwave was heating and glowing when he pressed the right buttons. Ford sighed and leaned against the bench to wait.

Stanley was in the process of pushing a chair towards the table. He paused to let out a gigantic yawn, rubbing his eyes with his too-big sleeve.

“Tired?” Ford found himself asking. Stan nodded and yawned again.

“Mm hmm.”

“Did you have trouble getting to sleep?” The uncomfortable position must not have helped.

Stan finished pushing the chair and now he crawled up into it and rested his elbows on the table. On closer inspection he did look tired, dark bags collecting under his eyes.

“Nah.” Stan rested his cheek on one hand, squishing his round face slightly. “Just had weird dreams.”

A shiver ran down Ford’s spine.

He hadn’t even considered if – what would happen if Stan made a deal with Bill Cipher? Had already made a deal? It would explain why Bill wasn’t in Ford’s dreams. Ford hadn’t warned his brother about the demon, he’d been so sure that Bill would focus on him and him alone, but Stanley was vulnerable here and Ford hadn’t even thought about it-

“Did you make a deal?” He demanded. Stan blinked at him blearily.

“What?”

“A deal. In your dream. Did you shake anyone’s hand? Talk to anyone?”

Stan shook his head with another yawn. “Don’ think so.”

He was a child, Ford reminded himself sharply, a child that didn’t grasp the significance of what was happening. He needed to have patience. Or else Stan might clam up and refuse to talk to him further.

“Stanley.” Ford forced his tone to stay even and slow. Stan send him a curious look. “I need you to tell me everything that happened in your dream. It might be important. Okay?”

Stan frowned. “Uh – okay. Are you gonna interpret my dream, like Ma does?”

“…something like that. But it’s very important you don’t leave out any details.”

“Okay.” Stan hummed for a minute, in thought, before he brightened. “Oh, yeah! So I was in my car – I mean, I don’t have a car, but it was a dream and you just know stuff in dreams so even though I don’t have a car I knew it was my car – and it was all snowy outside. I think I was stuck in a snow bank or something. Hey Ford, where do snowmen keep their money?”

The microwave beeped. Ford placed the hot pie in front of Stanley and searched for a fork. “A snow bank. Continue.”

Stan pouted. “You ruined my joke!”

Ford handed him a fork. Stan sighed and poked at his pie while Ford started heating up his own. After a moment the child continued, his voice uncharacteristically somber.

“It was really cold. Like, really cold. I could see my breath and it wasn’t even cool. Haha – cool. I… didn’t know cold hurt so much. It was like my bones were made of ice, all cracking and popping.”

“Was anyone in the car with you?”

Stan screwed up his face in thought. “Um, no. Just me.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, I had some matches and I was lighting them for warmth, but then they ran out.” Stan paused for a moment with a frown, comedic on his childish features. “I, um, was looking for some more in the glove box and a gun fell out. An’ I don’t know where I got it but I know it’s mine. S’ gotta be, if it’s in my car, right? But I don’t remember where I got it and I don’t know if it’s got any bullets in it.”

Ford nodded along. If Stanley could recall the dream so vividly, it probably wasn’t a normal dream, the likes of which tended to fade as quickly as they had appeared. But so far it didn’t seem like Bill’s style.

“What happened then?”

Stan bit his lip, wincing. “Um, you remember how we used to play Russian Roulette with soda cans? How we’d shake one up and take turns opening ‘em and try not to get the fizzy one?”

Ford got a bad feeling in his gut. “Of course.”

“I, um, I can’t remember why, but I wanted to find out if it had bullets in it. So I put it to my head and pulled the trigger.” Stan pulled a face like he’d tasted something sour. “There was this click and I guess it was empty because nothing happened. So I put it back and curled up all small, because it was still super cold, and I think I went back to sleep.” Stan shrugged with one shoulder. “Then it ended.”

Well, there was a lot to unpack there, and Ford could unpack it later. The microwave beeped to signify his breakfast was sufficiently warmed. He took it and slid into the seat opposite Stan.

“Is that everything? No one talked to you? How clearly do you remember it?”

“S’weird.” Stan admitted, pulling off the top of the pie to get at its insides. “So normally dreams kinda fade, all fuzzy-like, right? But the ones I had last night aren’t fading. It feels real but not-real.”

“Vivid?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Stan shrugged. Ford took a bite of his pie and was chewing before he registered what had just been said. He spluttered a little.

“Ones? Plural?”

“Uh, yeah.” Stan shrugged again. “The other one was weirder. Do you wanna know about that one too?”

“Do I – why wouldn’t I? Why didn’t you mention that?”

“Well, it was shorter and way more blurry. I couldn’t even see anything so I don’t think it really counts as a dream.”

“Tell me.”

Stan scrunched up his face. “You sure? It’s kinda silly.”

Ford sent him a look and Stan sighed.

“Fine. In the second one it was all dark, I couldn’t see anything. Well, not at first. There was this… man.” Stan shuddered. “This, uh, really creepy guy. And he put me in a coffin? No, um, a car trunk I think. It was all dark and then I couldn’t see anything. Then there was just lots of noises, and rumbling, and it got all wet.”

“Wet?” Ford echoed. Stan shrugged.

“Yeah, all wet. And cold. Like I’d been dumped in a lake or somethin’! Cause the whole trunk started flooding, which was really scary. An’ I don’t remember how I got out but at some point I was swimmin’ up feeling like my lungs were gonna explode.” Stan shivered, hugging himself. “An’ my mouth hurt and the water tasted like metal an’ it was so dark. Then, um… I dunno, I woke up or something?” He frowned. “Wait, no, there was something else – about a llama that knew too much? It all kinda gets smudgy.”

Unsettling, certainly, and something to ask questions about later – but for now it sounded like Bill had missed his chance to mess with the Pines twins. Ford let himself relax slightly.

“Thank you, Stanley, for telling me.”

“So are you gonna read my future or something?”

“No.”

Stan poked out his tongue. Ford sighed. The matter aside, he still had to find someone to look after Stanley while he got the unicorn hair! But there was only one person in Gravity Falls he trusted, and…

Well, that person might not pick up the phone.

But desperate times called for desperate measures. Surely, surely Fiddleford would at least hear him out? And if that failed Ford could always lock the child in a room for a couple hours.

Mind made up, Ford excused himself to go make a call.

His palms were oddly sweaty as he dialed the number he knew off by heart and pressed enter. The phone rang once, twice, thrice in his hand. Surely a hopeless endeavor. Ford was sure he wasn’t going to pick up, when there was a click and a crackly voice sounded tiredly down the line.

“Hello?”

His old assistant’s voice sent his heart leaping in his chest. Ford hurriedly cleared his throat. “Fiddleford? It’s me, Stanford.”

In the half-second of frigid silence that followed, Ford began to realize he might have made a mistake by introducing himself.

“Wait!” He gasped out. “Please don’t hang up.”

“What do ya want?” Fiddleford growled out. He sounded so unlike himself that it made Ford pause. But – no. This was Fiddleford. His research assistant. His friend. The one person he could trust.

“I – I need your help.” Ford admitted. He plunged on before Fiddleford could interrupt, “I was an idiot. You were right – about the portal, about Bi- the demon.”

There was a crackly silence. Ford took a deep breath.

“I know that what I did is unforgiveable. I abandoned you and refused to heed your warnings. I understand if you can never forgive me. But please, I need your help to fix what I’ve done.”

“I aint goin’ near that portal!” Fiddleford’s voice lifted in both volume and pitch. Ford hurried to reassure him.

“No, no, of course not. That’s not what I need your help with. And it’s not for me, it’s for my twin brother.”

“You have a twin?” Fiddleford demanded, a lilt of curiosity sneaking into his tone. He sounded a little more like the man Ford knew. “Why didn’t ya tell me that?”

“Stan and I haven’t on the best of terms recently.” Ford explained. “Fiddleford, you’re a father, you know how to take care of children. I need you to take care of my brother – just for a little while.”

“Whoa, hold up.” There was shuffling on the other end of the line. “I’m gonna need ya to go back to the beginning. What did ya get yourself into this time?”

Ford chuckled humorlessly. “An experiment gone wrong. Stanley – my twin brother – has been reverted back into a child.”

A pause.

“Fiddleford?”

His friend let out a sigh. “Yeah, sure, course this is happening. Weird stuff always happens around you, Stanford.”

Ford chose to take that as a compliment. “I currently have my hands full. There is a spell – a magical barrier, in fact – that can protect us against the demon you warned me about, allowing me to disassemble the portal without risk. But to do this I have so obtain several rare ingredients. I can’t take Stanley with me, and I can’t leave him alone. I was hoping you would be able to watch him. Just for a little while!” He added nervously. “I know Stanley can be a handful but I’ll be back as quickly as I can and-”

“Ford, shut yer yap.”

Ford shut up.

“I’ll not leave a child alone, no matter what I think of his brother. When d’ya need him taken care of?”

Ford let out a breath and thanked any and all deities that may have lent a helping hand. “I was hoping, today? As soon as possible?”

Fiddleford groaned. “Fine, fine – but only for the kid!” He added. “And in the name of keepin’ that demon away. Not for you.”

“I understand completely.”

“Ya still at yer cabin?”

“Yes.”

“’Course ya are. Now, how old’s yer brother?”

“Ah…” Hmm. Ford had never been good at ages. He’d passed through them himself and never looked back. “He’s old enough to talk. And complain about not having clothes that fit. Maybe about as old as Tate was when I last saw him…?”

Another long-suffering sigh. “A’right, a’right. I’ll bring some old clothes of Tate’s, see if they fit, and I’ll watch the little tyke for ya. But I’m not goin near that portal. Or any of your hinky experiments, ya hear?”

“Certainly. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in an hour, maybe two.”

“Thank you.” Ford said again. Fiddleford hung up.

#fic #chapter 3 #gravity falls #The stans #stangst #rewind

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rochey1010 · 5 years ago

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Hi guys, 👋 i just wanted to make a post about something that i feel is about to happen on the show, like i am completely convinced of this now.

I'm seeing major foreshadowing going on with Elu and what will be the outcome of the spoiler movie plot.

Ok, so something i've noticed with Eliott this season is that he's kinda in his own world. Yes i know they are showing his individualism and i'm happy to see that because i think he's a beautiful and complex character and deserves so much insight.

But certain things i've noticed in scenes and certain things i've heard Eliott say is starting to make me think we are heading for Eliott having his own rock bottom moment. I'm just gonna list some things that seem to connect for me.

• The hiding and lying really been highlighted with Eliott's arc. The almost casual way too. Like it's a habit and second nature. He's done it so much in my eyes to hide his true self that it's basically become a mask now. How he justifies these things to others and how oblivious he really is to how others see it too. How outside perspective is different from Eliott perspective e g. Lola calling him out with the urbex hiding, Lucas's anger when he was blindsided with Lola being in their home.

•For the first time ever with Lucas we see him at Daphne's party monitoring himself in regards to Eliott's mental illness. He's not monitoring Eliott and i have a theory on that. Lucas is so afraid of being a Lucille that he's passive with things that may be seen as controlling. So instead he tries to be cautious and make the situation about it being Lucas's choice and not a choice made for Eliott. I don't think it's an accident at all that Arthur walks up to Lucas and Eliott and wants to share a joint and Lucas who is cuddling Eliott and playing with his hair brushes Arthur off without saying what the audience is picking up on. For the first time ever we see Eliott chafe under this and we are aware that Eliott knows what Lucas is doing. Eliott tells him in an almost biting the tongue way to go and it's ok. And Lucas says these very telling words "Can i?" And Eliott says "yes Lucas" Lucas then happy kisses Eliott on the cheek and goes off with Arthur.

• The argument Lola wakes up to where we see that Eliott impulsive, forgot to let Lucas know what he was coming home to. Now i must say i don't blame Eliott for not doing this as the night was intense. And he'd just saved a girl from attempted rape and was prob up for hours with her and got very little sleep himself. But i also see Lucas's point too. Lucas is passionate. It's not out of character. It is part of who Lucas is. That is why he is a hedgehog. He is simply prickly and reactive. We have seen this throughout the show. He initially acts in a defensive way (hedgehog quills) and then he calms and deals. But again we see Lucas thrown off guard with Eliott and his impulsivity. So they are yelling and then Lucas says "she has problems" and Eliott tells him he has problems too, and Eliott acts offended that Lucas is being judgmental. And again it's a trait with Lucas too, and highlights again the group dynamics and the reaction to outsiders. Lucas accepts Eliott's illness but found it hard to accept his mothers. His love for Eliott changed his perceptive though as we see in S3. Lucas still shows that he has prejudices. He has made comments that are ignorant and unfair throughout the show e.g. mental illness, LGBTQ+, ableism with Arthur, Panphobia stereotypes etc. He just did it again with Lola. Like i said before, i play no favourites i see these characters as complex and when they're messy or flawed they are more interesting to me. So i have no issues when they F up. They're young, insecure, and it feels true to life. But yeah i notice with Lucas (again highlighting insulation in the group v isolation in outsiders) that Lucas has a moral view. If i care and love you i will accept you warts and all. If you are unknown and alien my quills are ready to go. And this is a direct contrast to Eliott who comes in and spreads his arms ready to hug the world. Even adopts furry animals. 😍

Then again something is said that shows how Lucas views his position with Eliott and his mental health. Eliott gives a hypothetical and says to lucas if he were in trouble Lucas would want him to be helped and safe, and Lucas says back. Yeah, but Lucas himself should be that person that should handle it. Now i don't blame Lucas. He loves Eliott so much and he wants him safe but i got subtle control out of that comment and an implication that Eliott can't handle himself. And we see the direct contrast the night before when Eliott, who the last time we saw in that hoodie with the hood raised, he was at his worst and crying in La Petite Ceinture needing rescue. But now he's the one that finds his power and rescues someone else. That he is capable, individual and has 2 feet.

•The mental illness talk with Lola and us learning more of Eliott's past. I loved this because we again see Eliott speak for himself. We get the much begged for past history of Eliott and his struggles. And he gets to impart wisdom and help someone else. That there is power in this friendship with Lola. For Eliott he not only sees the mistakes of his past he can rectify but he can be strong and guide someone out of the darkness he once found himself in. I find that incredibly beautiful and amazing character insight. But again it highlights how oblivious Eliott is to his actions on the one he loves most. His Lucas. Like i could write a huge ass post on Eliott alone and why he does the things he does, but i may get kicked off the tag if i do. 😄 but 2 words come to mind with Eliott and his love with Lucas.

FEAR: The fear of the past repeating and control happening AND the fear of being real and true because it's too much and you are a burden. And it all being rooted in his mental illness.

"i don't know how to control it and it is killing me"

Eliott tells Lola that his bipolar episodes can be quite violent. That there are funny ones (choc labrador thievery) and very sad ones (3 time attempt to take your life) like i knew his past was dark. (anyone that creates a refuge to release in and cry like you're still hiding, even from yourself and uses that as a coping mechanism?) Something horrible must have happened for you to resort to that.

And i've always maintained that Eliott is one of the darkest Even's, and France have not romanticised the portrayal of his mental illness in any way shape or form. He has snapped at lucas during his crash , had episodes where lucas can only watch him helplessly and love him regardless, his insta journal has been quite heartbreaking with his mental/emotional state, he sometimes won't take his meds, he'll hide his bipolar out of fear and run, he has his personal refuge, he's tried to take his life, he needs to get away and breathe, and he still has suicide thoughts even though he has Lucas. You have got to applaud the show with how they've handled Eliott and his illness. It's very real, and you may love someone immensely but depression doesn't care what they mean to you. They will be by your side but they can't fix you and love your mind to better health. You're still gonna have negative thoughts, you're still gonna slip and regress but having the one you love hold your hand makes it easier to navigate those scary moments. 👏

But through this something dawned on me. Eliott is sabotaging his relationship in his pursuit not to. And i gotta say i find that so sad. He's creating this love bubble, actually they both are, and nothing can penetrate the love bubble. That means fears and insecurities stay outside. He's lying and hiding to protect himself, protect Lucas from himself and keep Lucas from leaving him. Lucas is too but that essay is for another time. 😄 and he says to Lola that to love someone is to accept them even with their flaws. But he's lying to Lola too because he won't let Lucas see his flaws because it means Lucas leaves. 😭 we saw Eliott once open up to Lucas in S3 Lundi and the way Maxence played that scene was beautiful, because you see just how heavy being mentally ill is on Eliott. That he believes he'll just ruin everything around him

"things will change, i don't want them to but they will and it'll be because of me"

He can't keep eye contact with Lucas and his entire demeanour is one of wobbly defeat. You have never seen Eliott more vulnerable in this moment. His shame, embarassment, and self loathing is oozing out of his pores. He doesn't even want Lucas to have to deal with it, and his expectation is that the relationship ends here. And to add to that, he shows just how much he loves Lucas by saying how he can't bear to see him hurt or in any kind of pain. Lucas fights for them and Eliott has hope. But we realise that things don't just change overnight, days, months etc. Eliott still has demons inside him that tell him hurtful and toxic things that all people who suffer with mental illness go through. And when Lucas tells him he loves him there's still a voice in Eliott that says " for how long" and "you won't when you see who i am" i'm not exaggerating here. I deal with mental illness and it destroys your self worth. It is a daily fight and you kinda can see yourself as an alien in the world. It really has the power to twist your perception of the world in the ugliest way. FYI and TMI but when i had a severe anxiety episode that had crept up over years of denial and added to a huge life stressor. It lasted weeks before i accepted i needed help. I used to do what Eliott would do, and when it was too much i would up and leave, go to a nearby park and sit on the bench alone and sad. One time i looked up at the clouds and instead of seeing the beauty of nature, i saw mockery. I actually saw clouds laughing at me. 😄 no it wasn't delusions. It was simply a twisted perception of the world where there was self loathing, failure, and the feeling of powerlessness. I don't know why i included this, sorry for the discomfort. ☺️

But back to Eliott. Lola asks if things will be ok with him and Lucas. Eliott is like yeah and just throws out:

"He's worried about me, i have bipolar disorder, do you know what that is?"

Anyone else pick up on the emphasis Eliott does there in his relationship with Lucas. Brings it back to the mental illness and the oblivious nature of other things, like miss-communication and hiding things. Like Eliott's world in this relationship is "I have bipolar disorder" like that's a huge focus for Eliott.

Then they are comparing loves. Eliott telling Lola that "And i have Lucas, I can't lose this" we are actually hearing this from his mouth, and again, the reinforcement of the root of Eliott's insecurities. I can't lose Lucas. He has made my life better and makes the bad stuff not so overwhelming and scary AKA i'm afraid he will leave. So i will use my power to stop that from happening. She's sad and tells Eliott she had a Lucas (Maya) but lost her. Eliott tells her to find her Lucas and if she loves her she'll accept her. Which is obviously going to happen with Maya and Lola. She'll tell her the past which is connected to Lola's addict issues. And like Lucas, Maya's love for Lola will help her to overcome her pain and move forward, and Lola to find her light and not be so scared of her darkness.

• Every single time Eliott is asked by someone about him keeping things from Lucas. His answer is the obsessive "i want to protect him and i don't want to stress him or worry him" We saw it with Imane in S4 and we saw it with Lola recently. We add on the inner insecurities with "It'll be too much and he won't stay" and here's Eliott folks. 😔 We know he has an arc this season. Max said Eliott has a beautiful emotional journey, and that he helps the main with his past.

But one thing that every person who goes through emotional turmoil AKA Skam season main journey. It's called the moment that is the wake up call for the character. The moment that you are at your lowest and you must face yourself. Eliott can't be main as he's blocked but we are seeing that he has a lot of focus. So far he's in the show a lot and very active too.

We know that Elu's seasons long issues are being addressed finally. We know that Eliott himself will be addressed. What's one thing that has remained the same in Eliott and Lucas's love? The hiding things from Eliott and Lucas forgiving him AKA Lucas has never left. What's one thing that could be a very scary wakeup call for Eliott? Lucas leaving.

Now i don't think those scenes are throwaway at all, and i don't think the dialogue is either. They've slowly set this arc up since S5 for Eliott and the relationship with Lucas. Little stressors that just watching S5 you play off but now paired with S6 become very serious. I've mentioned some of them in other posts. We know the spoiler movie is coming. We know how lucas reacts to Eliott being honest and we can almost say how Eliott reacts = impulsivity and rebellion.

But the fallout? And i do think the story is going there guys. Which i'm fine with tbh, along with the conflict and the relationship. Saying it's just drama or out of the blue would be a humongous lie. This has been building for seasons and it is incredibly consistent with the relationship and the characters. Now i'd agree with fans if Eliott and Lucas were eternally blissful and then suddenly boom issues. But that hasn't happened at all. It's been tiny little stressors building up to the eventual crack, or my analogy = the bubble eventually pops.

So the movie happens, and for Lucas it's the straw that breaks the camel's back. His breaking point for him to end the relationship or leave Eliott. And it's Eliott's breaking point. We have his words, we didn't need them, let's be real, but we have them. He needs Lucas and everyone knows how much he loves him. Like that is not even debatable. Eliott is deeply in love with his hedgehog. But it's the wake up call to the relationship, and it's the wakeup call to Eliott. He can't continue this self sabotage and he has to face everything. But guys, Eliott really emphasised his need for Lucas. That ultimately tells me he's put his mental health on this need too. I think Eliott is going to be triggered and spiral. Like i'm sure of it now. And i think that is when S3 main Lucas will have his talk with S6 main Lola. I think she's gonna bring them back together. And i think that's what Flavie meant in her live "she helps him too"

I just wanna say i'm not gonna be in the tag saying Eliott or Lucas is a villain. I think it's sad when stress happens we pit the characters against each other. I wish the fanbase could be compassionate and empathetic. And you may not agree with what a character does but you accept that these characters are not black and white and they make mistakes, mess up and do stupid shit. It's the journey that we all go on and as other fans have said, growth is not linear.

Finally, god these posts are getting longer. I've lurked for so long and now my thoughts are just piling up. 😄 but yeah, i noticed some fans say that this Lucas and Eliott stuff should be over, they're together a year so should have dealt with their issues. Like i just have to say to that what?? Like relationship issues happen. You don't just fix them and bam happily ever after. The same issues can crop up throughout a relationship, because you are not just dealing with you as a unit but you are dealing with you as an individual too. You have the baggage the relationship causes and your carry on's that you yourself bring to the relationship. Your own personal issues and insecurities can continue to crop up causing problems.

Stressors can expose cracks, and that is what is happening. Denying and placing to the side issues like you'll deal with them later but you never do because you're afraid of the response thinking The relationship fails or you lose each other. Like think of anxiety. It's the ultimate result of not dealing with life issues. They build and build throughout life untill they become a disorder. These 2 haven't dealt with them untill now, and that's why they are coming to a head finally. And from a show perspective the format really limits them. Focusing on one main can't explore others and their issues, because the main has to be there. The only way you can do that is breaking format and Skam is quite strict with their narrative. What's happening with Eliott is a case of 'this is the best we can do' he's blocked but they want to give this beloved character the insight the fanbase has been begging for. They don't usually do this. Usually it's the main and his/her ensemble but this time it's the main + 2 part mains in Daphne and Eliott. The ensemble is background this season. And Eliott has an arc since S3 so of course they are going to bring these seasons built relationship issues to the surface and address them. They are wrapping up the old generation and handing over to new now. All these threads are being dealt with.

So what i said about stressors exposing cracks. Well here's a stressor? moving in together. Before Eliott lived alone, with his parents checking in frequently (prob his bipolar disorder) but he could breathe and be, and hide and be alone whenever he wanted. Now he's living with Lucas. And they love each other but there are teething problems. We saw them laid beautifully in S5, and being together only a year is really nothing. Most of that would be a honeymoon period, let's be honest here. And they have such an intense and emotional love. Like they are young (17/18 and 19/20) and have found the life partner they want. Just think about that, and the issues of that responsibility as well. In reality you don't find your life partner at that age. You really don't.

And people mess up. They make mistakes and they grow but it's not a full stop there. You make other mistakes and you mess up. And environmental triggers can happen that can make more mistakes happen, and can even make you regress. You fight in life. You don't sail through it. Does anybody? So yeah, oh sweet the lovebirds moved in together but moving in together has also highlighted issues not dealt with. Couples face tests. And importantly that "minute par minute" scene is now being seen in action. That means the bad times as well as the good. This relationship started in so much fear for both and i'm sorry that level of fear doesn't just poof away. We are seeing that.

Now i'm done. I really don't blame anyone if they don't read this. Even i'm ashamed at the length. But will i still post it? Yep 😄💜

#skam france #eliott demaury #skamfr #lucas lallemant #lola lecomte

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lochrannn · 3 years ago

Link

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 7/9

Leaving his apartment actually helps.

Diego’s not sure how long he’s been out but he thinks he spent at least thirty minutes at an all out run and he’s out of breath and his muscles are burning pleasingly, but he feels a lot more settled and about ready for sleep as he jogs back towards his bed.

He’s just passing a children’s playground when he spots a figure through the chain link fence sitting on one of the swings, gently swaying back and forth.

“Fuck!” he says out loud and then makes his way over.

“Oh hey!” says Lila with mild enthusiasm when she finally looks up at him as he’s just arriving right in front of her.

Diego’s heart is beating in his throat at the realization that she didn’t even notice him approaching and he could have been anybody. This may not be an incredibly dangerous neighborhood, but it is three in the morning, she’s a woman sitting all on her own in a dark and secluded playground, and he doesn’t actually need to be a detective to work out that she’s completely shitfaced.

Diego tries to reign in the anger that is usually his initial response to intense worry and fear. She’s a grown woman and she’s entitled to make her own bad decisions, and he’s overstepped on this sort of thing with her before, but when she just slowly blinks at him and then looks back down at the bottle of champagne that she’s loosely holding in the hand that’s not gripping on to the swing’s chain, barely keeping herself upright, Diego asks, in a tone that’s meant to be even but comes out pretty tetchy even to his own ears, “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, you know, I got married today… just celebrating on my own, I guess,” Lila answers, lifting her bottle a little in explanation, but not looking up at him again. She’s doing a remarkable job of not slurring her words, he’ll give her that, but they do come out a little too slowly, far too deliberate, which confirms his suspicion that she is definitely pretty drunk.

“Uh huh…” Diego responds. He’s completely uncertain of what to make of the mood she’s in. The fact that her response to getting married to him is to completely numb herself with champagne certainly gives him pause, but he swallows down the lump in his throat, now’s not the time to wallow, and instead he asks, “D’you think you might wanna do that back home instead of out here in a fucking playground?”

Lila looks up at him with an odd clarity to her for a second before she takes a swig from her mostly empty bottle and says, “Nah, I’m good!”

Diego can’t suppress the noise of frustration that escapes him. “Lila! I’m not leaving you here all on your own in the middle of the god forsaken night! You’re gonna get robbed or murdered and then they’re gonna suspect me of marrying and then killing you for your money, and I really can’t afford to go to jail right now, so come the fuck back home with me!”

“Pfff, stop being so overdramatic, Diego, I’m not going to get murdered. And I’m not going anywhere in these heels, I tell you, I’ll just sleep here on this swing!” She closes her eyes and then wobbles precariously as she presses her face against the chain holding one side of the swing up.

Diego is very rapidly losing what is left of his patience.

“Also, may I point out,” Lila mumbles in her drowsy state, “that you did in fact marry me for my money— eeeeeeh!” she squeals, as Diego lifts her up – one arm behind her shoulders, the other behind her knees. Her bottle clatters to the ground and starts spilling the remaining champagne, and somewhere at the back of his brain Diego thinks he probably shouldn’t leave it lying around on a playground, but at the same time he’s also dealing with an armful of slightly flailing, very indignant fake wife (he knows intellectually that she’s not his fake wife, but his actual wife, but Diego can’t think too hard about that, because it causes all sorts of tumultuous feelings to twist in his gut).

Though Lila immediately wrapps her arms around his neck, she’s clearly not particularly pleased because she begins to argue as Diego starts making his way out of the playground, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m taking you home,” Diego growls, trudging along the sidewalk, a little amazed at how easy Lila is to carry. She’s almost larger than life so much of the time and even when they’d slept together, she gave as good as she got, Diego has up until this moment forgotten just how tiny she is, and his heart almost stops again at how vulnerable she was, what could have happened to her if he hadn’t come across her completely by accident. Diego sucks in a breath to try and calm the sudden wash of useless fear.

“That’s quite presumptuous!” Lila retorts, and Diego doesn’t need to look at her to know there’s an annoyed line between her eyebrows. In fact, he doesn’t think he can even look at her right now, not with the way her face is currently only inches away from his.

“We’re literally fucking married, Lila!” he scoffs. He’s not sure why he says it, but Diego thinks he might be going slightly insane with the whole situation.

“And you think that entitles you to something, now?” Lila asks in genuine disbelief and Diego suddenly feels way too exhausted for this conversation. “Yeah, I think it entitles me to making sure you don’t die of hypothermia, alcohol poisoning, or murder!”

There’s a long pause and then Lila grumbles, “Whatever,” and leans against his shoulder, apparently also overcome by tiredness.

And Diego is overwhelmed at how quickly his anger at her reckless and bratty behavior dissipates and is replaced with a much sharper feeling that digs its way almost painfully into his chest, when Lila tucks her face into the crook of his neck and promptly falls asleep.

Lila is almost completely still as he carries her back home and it gives his overwrought and exhausted brain time to contemplate how unhappy she seems to be with the situation and how that makes him feel in turn, and on top of that he even manages to feel a little guilty about the fact that the feeling of her warmth and weight against him does significantly settle his nerves, despite himself.

Diego’s always known that he’s not great with feelings. He usually feels too much of them and is never quite able to tell the people around him what that means and so he’s gotten quite used to not doing so. And even though earlier he contemplated telling Lilla, he realizes he can’t add another burden to the pile of shit she’s dealing with, especially not while she’s struggling to stay in the country of her choice and has to rely on him for her only solution.

Carrying Lila becomes a little bit difficult when Diego tries to unlock the front door. He ends up jostling her, attempting to wiggle the key into the lock with the hand that’s also holding on to her knees and Lila stirs but doesn’t wake fully, just snuffles adorably and cuddles closer to him, arms tightening in some kind of reflex to stop herself from falling.

Diego tries to concentrate on anything else, getting the door open, not slamming it, when closing it, because his neighbors would probably not appreciate the noise in the early hours of the morning, and then he makes his way straight towards her room so he can put her down on her bed.

He sets her down gently and then struggles to find the will to pull her arms away from his neck so for only a moment he allows himself to sit down on the bed with her and very gently put his arms around her in a hug. He’s not sure whether it’s to comfort Lila or himself.

“See, had no trouble getting home!” Lila mumbles into his neck and Diego scoffs at that, but it’s more out of genuine amusement than derision and he gives her one last squeeze before letting go and laying her against the bed gently. This time around Lila does let go and immediately buries her face into the pillow, and though her face scrunches up and he knows it’s only a matter of minutes before she’ll start drooling onto the covers with the way her mouth is half open, he can’t help thinking that she does look absolutely breathtaking.

Diego makes sure that her short red dress hasn’t ridden up her thigh indecently high and then gets to work on her sandals. Once he’s got them off, he finds a blanket on a small armchair in the corner of the room and covers Lila with it as she’s lying on top of her sheets and is fast asleep again, so he doesn’t want to wake her.

When he leaves her to it and closes the door behind him with a soft click, hoping to at least get a couple of hours of sleep himself before he has to get up for work later in the morning again, Diego lets out a long breath. He tries to convince himself that maybe it will take a few weeks, but he can get over this, get over Lila, but a niggling voice at the back of his mind points out that he’s never felt a sense of devotion for anyone quite like this before and that he is quite certainly in much bigger trouble than he’s letting himself believe.

Lila gets the hangover she deserves after drinking a bottle and a half of champagne, but is, unfortunately, not granted the luxury of forgetting what she got up to.

She remembers her evening and her night in vivid detail but from a perspective of a powerless operator, sitting somewhere in her skull, able to look out of her eyes and watch herself make an absolute nuisance of herself, but unable at the time to do anything about it.

She remembers feeling sorry for herself because she was in this situation in the first place, a thirty year old trust fund baby with no perspective in life, no family to speak of and while other women her age nave their lives together and are getting married and having babies, she just paid her roommate who she also happens to have a pretty bad crush on – no point in trying to kid herself about that anymore – to marry her for a green card. What a fuck up she truly is.

And then, wallowing in her misery as a selfish part of her even felt angry with Diego for just abandoning her on their wedding day – what a silly notion, seeing as this is a business arrangement between the two of them – she went out to buy some dinner for herself and instead brought home two bottles of champagne “to celebrate”, started dancing around to sad music the more intoxicated she got, and in the end feeling like she had to leave the flat or she would go absolutely stir crazy.

She obviously didn’t get very far, and she has no sense of how much time she spent sitting on that swing before Diego came to get her.

Lila feels desperately embarrassed. He must be so annoyed with her and thanking his lucky stars that he’s only married to her for the money and not actually stuck with the a fuck up like her. She could tell he tried to remain civil with her last night, mostly even indulging her, but he was clearly angry and she’d only goaded him further, out of some sense of righteous annoyance of her own. But in hindsight, she can’t blame him, he’s honestly been trying his best with her, gone above and beyond to support her efforts for a visa, and she can’t even keep it together for a single day.

Well, at least he’ll get a break from her, Lila muses as she pulls her cover over her head, trying to block out the little bit of light that’s filtering in through her curtains, because there’s no way she’s going to face him in this state. But once she’s recovered, feels a bit more like a human again, she’ll apologise and make sure he understands just how grateful she is for his help. It’s not his fault she’s developed some distracting feelings for him and he certainly doesn’t deserve her anger and frustration for not reciprocating feelings he knows absolutely nothing about.

And so Lila spends her day in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, half imagining and half dreaming about strong arms holding her close to a solid, warm body, and soft lips pressing gentle kisses to the spot just behind her ear.

A day and a half later they meet in the kitchen and it’s predictably awkward.

Lila tries to apologise for her behaviour but Diego just waves it away, says he understands that she’s having a hard time, and though that’s not quite what she wanted to say and part of her thinks he deserves a real apology, she also doesn’t particularly enjoy reflecting on her own behaviour and jumps at the opportunity to move on when Diego promptly changes the subject.

“I talked to a friend at my gym, Rodriguez. His wife isn’t a citizen either and he gave me some tips for the visa process,” Diego explains.

“Oh yeah?” Lila’s interest is piqued, because she still hasn’t quite worked out what that whole interview thing entails and she’s finally getting an inkling that Diego didn’t actually know much more beyond the fact that there is an interview.

“Yeah! So, he said it’s different for everybody but that he’d talk to his wife and they’d put a list together of the questions they remembered being asked. He said some of them were…” Diego looks down at the counter and starts scraping off an imaginary bit of dirt with his finger nail, “a bit personal… So, uhm, we’re gonna have to prepare for those.”

“I think we already did...” Lila mumbles under her breath.

“What was that?” Diego asks.

“Eh, nothing!” she rushes out, she didn’t actually mean to say that out loud even if he couldn’t hear her. “So, interview, okay, what else?”

“Yeah, uh, Rodriguez said this doesn’t happen too often and it didn’t happen to them, but there is a chance of an agent coming to inspect our apartment unannounced, so I thought maybe we should move some things around. You know, bring some of your things into my room, put some clothes of mine into your closet, just make sure it doesn’t look like we live in separate rooms. We can always say we’re keeping yours for guests,” Diego explains with a shrug.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds sensible,” Lila muses and starts worrying the nail on her thumb between her teeth because despite the fact that Diego seems to have a pretty decent handle on the situation, the whole idea of the interview process is making her nervous.

“You’re not really into this, are you?” Diego asks tentatively, and when Lila looks up at him his expression is one of concern, eyebrows drawn together, he’s lowered his head to try and get closer to level with her, and for a moment the tenderness in his eyes leaves her speechless.

“Yeah, I get it!” he goes on and then smiles slightly, “Hey, what are you doing the day after tomorrow? Are you working?” he asks.

“Uh, no?” Lila answers, hesitating a bit because the sudden change of the subject has her somewhat confused.

“I thought maybe we could take a drive to the shore, bring Ben’s camera and fill the film with some honeymoon photos. It’ll be too cold to go swimming, but the forecast seems like it should be pretty mild and sunny.” Diego suggests and, it seems without thinking, he reaches out and just very gently pulls on her wrist, so she stops biting her nail and instead lets her hand drop uselessly to her side.

“Yeah, okay…” Lila answers. She’s not sure why she’s not that enthusiastic about the idea. It’s not that she thinks she wouldn’t have a great time, in fact she thinks it could be kind of wonderful, spending a day driving to the seaside with Diego and taking a walk along the beach, maybe getting some ice cream. She wonders to herself whether the pang in her belly comes from the fact that actually she’d love a beach date with Diego, only she desperately wishes it wasn’t fake.

#otp: just be gentle #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #dielila #diego x lila #diego/lila #tua #the umbrella academy #fanfic #ongoing fic

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19tozier · 4 years ago

Text

2am (richie tozier)

warning: anxiety, partying, mentions of underage drinking, slight mention of sex, some swearing

based on the song 2am by sir sly

[losers + reader are 16+]

as much as you may never admit it to any of the losers, there will always be a part of you that hates the parties you go to.

it’s really just not your scene, you muse to yourself, leaning against the wall with a drink in your hand. you love people, you’ve always been more extroverted than might be good for you, but the writhing bodies of drunk teenagers just... isn’t fun.

the only reason you come to these parties is for the losers themselves, because you’d never pass up an opportunity to hang out with them. more often than not, you stick to bev or richie’s side, laughing with them and drinking whatever it is they hand you. you all stick together as a group anyways, since the majority of them don’t like parties either and come solely for the free booze and weed.

you sigh to yourself, finishing your drink and longing for another. you’re not nearly drunk enough to deal with the people around you, but you don’t feel comfortable going into the kitchen alone. you know that bowers and his gang are here somewhere and you’d like to not see his face.

you turn to the losers, opening your mouth to ask someone to come to the kitchen with you, but your brows furrow when you can only count six of your friends beside you. eddie, stan, mike, bill, ben, bev... you swear as you realize who you’re missing.

bev looks at you when she hears your voice, arching an eyebrow at the look on your face. “something wrong, (y/n/n)?”

you roll your eyes, dropping your cup onto the table next to you. you won’t need it anymore. “has anyone seen richie?”

the losers look confused, like they’ve just now realized he’s missing, and they shake their heads. you blow out a sigh, pushing off of the wall and brushing off your skirt with one hand.

bev grins knowingly, leaning into bill’s side. her eyes sparkle as she asks, “where are you going, (y/l/n)?” she knows full well what you’re doing, and why.

you scowl at her, wishing you’d never told her about your traitorous secret. “i’m going to find our resident trashmouth.” you walk away before she can call you on it or before any of the losers can say anything. you feel their excited whispers from behind you, though.

you roll your eyes again, huffing quietly as you shoulder through bodies to get out. stupid trashmouth, you think to yourself, hoping you can find him quickly and bring him back so that your little bubble is complete again.

it’s really not unusual for richie to wander off on his own when you’re all at parties. he’s the most confident and pragmatic of your group, save for maybe you and bev, and he oftentimes will ditch you guys to go dance or get another drink or talk to someone. he never just wanders off like this, though; he always tells someone, usually you, where he’s going, and he always comes back quickly. this, him wandering off alone with none of you knowing? this is unusual. despite your feigned annoyance, you feel uneasy at the thought.

he’s not in any of his usual places, the kitchen empty and the bathroom unlocked to a couple that isn’t richie. you doubt he would’ve crept upstairs but you search it anyways, quickly diverting your gaze from all of the messy things happening behind closed doors. no richie here, either.

you almost hope that by the time you get downstairs he’d have magically reappeared with the losers again, but when you glance in their direction they’re still missing one certain menace. bev shakes her head at you, her own eyes a little concerned now.

finally, after wandering through every room and checking every place you can think of, you resign yourself to check behind the house. it’s cold outside though, so you sincerely doubt that richie will be out there, especially not without any of you.

just as you thought, it’s bitterly cold outside, the late fall air quickly turning to winter. it’ll snow soon, you know, and you wrap your arms around yourself. your tight long sleeve and skirt do nothing to keep you warm.

you have half a mind to go back inside, richie be damned, when you turn the corner to the back of the house and find him leaned back against the house, a cigarette between his fingers.

your first instinct is anger. after the things you’ve seen and the way you’re shivering, he’s just out here having a smoke? he couldn’t have done that inside? but then you notice the butts littering the ground around him, and the way his hands shake as they lift the cigarette to his lips, and your anger evaporates.

“richie?” you say quietly, stepping up to his side. he must not have heard you walk up, because he whips his head around to look at you, his body tensing. his eyes are wild and his cheeks are flushed, and your heart sinks as you realize what’s happening. “oh, rich, what’s wrong?”

richie shakes his head, looking away from you. “nothing, doll, i’m fine. it’s cold out here, you should go back inside.” his voice is wobbly and you think you can hear the tears inside of it.

you step closer, ignoring his protests, and take the cigarette from between his fingers. he just watches you as you stomp it out beneath your boot, and that’s how you know something is wrong. your trashmouth wouldn’t have stood for that normally.

“what’s wrong?” you ask him again, gentler this time, reaching out to tangle your fingers together with his. it could be the question, or maybe your company, but either way his face screws up a bit and his eyes fill with tears.

he draws in a ragged breath, roughly passing a hand over his face. he’s still not looking at you. “just got a little anxious in there, not so bad.” his mouth twists in an ugly attempt at a smile, but the tension still straining his jaw warps it into a grimace. “i’m fine, doll, you don’t need to worry about me.”

you roll your eyes. richie has always been a self-sacrificing idiot, hiding his feelings and any vulnerability behind his trashmouth facade. he rarely lets himself break, at least not around other people, and you’re not about to let him bottle it up again. not when he looks this sad.

gently, you tug him to the ground with you, leaning up against the side of the house. the ground is cold and a little damp through the material of your skirt, and you spare a thought to the stain that will no doubt cover your ass after this, but it’s not as important as the boy at your side.

he tries to protest, tries one more time to tell you to go inside, but you just tug at him again, until he finally sits next to you and props his head against your shoulder. it’s a bit of an awkward fit, since he’s so giant, but you make it work. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and lay your cheek against the top of his head.

“what’s on your mind, rich?” you murmur, brushing your fingers through his hair. he blows out a shaky breath, his fingers trembling where they hold onto your waist.

he shrugs, a little helplessly, holding you tighter. “i, uh, it’s been kind of a bad day,” he admits quietly. if you weren’t so close you doubt you would’ve heard him. “and i was so excited to come here tonight but—“ he cuts himself off, shaking his head.

you slide your thumb along his temple. “but what, rich?”

maybe it’s how soft your voice is, or maybe it’s that you’re holding him so close, but he feels his wall slide down just a bit. he almost doesn’t realize it when he whispers, “it was so loud, and there were so many people, and i—“ he cuts himself off again, this time to stop the tears from falling.

you shush him gently, shifting a bit until you can pull him more into your chest. his body helps block out the cold that seeps into your bones. “why didn’t you say anything, richie? we would’ve left if you wanted to.”

he shakes his head again, this time more vehemently. “no, you were all having so much fun, and i didn’t want to stop that. and i uh, i saw how john was looking at you, and i, um. i didn’t want to get in the way.”

you furrow your brow, pulling back to look at him. he’s steadfastly not looking at you, keeping his eyes on the trees not far away. “john? from math? he was looking at me?”

richie scoffs, the sound harsh in the silence between you. there’s something almost annoyed in the set of his face. “what, you didn’t notice? he looked like he wanted to fuck you right there.”

he’s hiding behind the trashmouth, you think hazily, but there’s a bit of... jealousy in his voice? there’s no way, there’s no way he feels the way you do. is there?

you take a deep breath, deciding to just go for it. at the very least, maybe it’ll help richie feel a little bit better. “i didn’t notice,” you say honestly, pulling him closer again. “i don’t notice other guys, rich, not when you’re around.”

he goes still in your arms, the breath whooshing out of him. his heart pounds in his chest for a different reason than the anxiety still sitting in his stomach, because there’s no way you can mean...

“you’ve had me since we met, rich,” you continue, oblivious to his crisis. you card your hand through his curls again, a small smile on your lips. “i came out here ‘cause i noticed you were gone, silly. my night isn’t the same if you aren’t with me.”

he pulls away, sitting up to look into your face. his eyes are crazed again, flicking back and forth between yours. “what’re you saying?” he whispers.

you rolls your eyes fondly, your grin never leaving your lips. “what, you need me to spell it out?”

he cups your cheek and you freeze, warmth sparking from his palm. his eyes won’t leave yours. “please, (y/n).”

it’s the first time he’s used your name in weeks, and he watches as your face softens, your grin slipping into something smaller and more intimate. your eyes are so bright when you whisper, “i like you, rich. i have for a while now.”

his breath gasps out. “oh, thank god.”

before you really know what’s happening, he’s kissing you, using the hand he has on your cheek to pull you closer. you’re stunned momentarily, your brain hazily giddy at the feeling of his lips on yours, but you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back.

it’s softer than you thought it would be, not only for how desperately richie’s holding you but for the fact that this is richie tozier, who’s had to fend off girls with a bat ever since he went through his growth spurt and turned into the hottest boy you’ve ever seen. you’d have thought he would kiss you with demand, but he’s holding your face like you are the most precious thing to him and his lips are so soft you think, a little deliriously, of clouds.

he pulls away, just enough to mumble against your mouth, “i like you too, baby. i have since we were fourteen.”

you grin, pulling him in to kiss him again. it feels so good, so right, that for a little bit you forget all about how cold you are, until a gust of wind makes you violently shiver.

he pulls away to giggle softly, kissing your cheek. his hands are still lightly trembling, and you can see the anxiety still running under his skin, but he looks lighter and more relaxed. “do you wanna get out of here, doll?” he asks, and then flushes. “i uh, i just don’t want to go back into the party. i’d be right back out here.” he laughs, self-deprecating.

you nod, kissing his jaw. “that sounds perfect, rich.”

he stands up, pulling you up by your hands. he doesn’t let you get far, pulling you into his chest and just holding you. he’s so big, he completely engulfs you, and you wrap your arms around his waist and turn your face into his neck.

“thank you, (y/n/n),” he whispers against the top of your head.

you smile into his neck, holding him tighter. you didn’t think the search for him would lead to this, but you’re definitely not complaining. “anytime, rich.”

#richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier x you #richie tozier x y/n #the losers club #the losers club x reader #it (2017)#it (2019)#it (movie)#it movie #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #eddie kaspbrak #stan uris #ben hanscom #my writing

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kirishibi · 4 years ago

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Nights Like These | Kirishima Ejirou

Summary: You’re having a rough night struggling with your anxiety and your long time crush, Kirishima, helps you through it

Pairing: Kirishima Ejirou x Reader

Warnings: pretty vivid and possibly triggering descriptions of the physical symptoms and racing thoughts that come with an anxiety attack, non-established relationship, pining, lots of Kiri comfort, so much fluff, very very mild cursing, spoilers abt Kirishima’s backstory, (y/n)’s pretty shy in this one oops

**this fic has a lottt of comfort and fluff in it after the first quarter, but if descriptions of anxiety are triggering for you please read with caution and skip over bits if needed**

Word Count: 2.8k

a/n: chef actually writing for once??? unheard of. anyway, i was struggling really hard this week, so i wrote some kiri comfort because who doesn’t want this sweet boi to hold ur hand and tell you everything’s gonna be okay when it feels like the world’s falling apart.i legit wrote this while crying bruv if any one of my fics is a window to my soul its this one

It began with that all-too-familiar pit of dread in your stomach, an uncomfortable rush of adrenaline in your upper chest that you desperately tried to force away. Trembling fingertips, wobbling knees, the sudden urge to crawl out of your own skin. All you did was get tongue-tied while chatting with Bakugou and a few of his friends, but your fumbled words wouldn’t stop echoing through your skull, the angry blond’s mocking gaze replaying over and over again in your mind.

You barely made it to your dorm before shards of your shattered confidence gathered to form a lump in your throat, and tears stung at the corners of your eyes. You threw open the door to your room, hastily swung it shut as you entered. As heavy wood slammed into its frame, a jarring bang echoed throughout the hallway outside. You physically cringed, brows knitting together and nose scrunching in disgust at your own actions.

Damn it, you thought to yourself, everyone heard that, and now they’re all pissed at you.

This happened more times than you could count: one minor mistake drudged up what seemed like hundreds of embarrassing memories from your past, and in a matter of minutes you knew you’d wind up a sobbing mess on your bedroom floor, gasping for air, convinced that the only thing you’re truly good at is being a burden.

There was a dam inside your mind; one that held all of your regrets, self-loathing thoughts, and most embarrassing memories. The multitude of cracks in its foundation threatened to give with every little thing you deemed a screw-up, and in that moment, the dam broke.

A half-complete exam sat before you. Your left leg nervously bounced beneath your desk as a pencil twirled between the nimble fingers of your dominant hand. The eraser of your pencil caught on the surface of your desk mid-twirl, causing the utensil to fling from your grasp. It arched through the air and thumped the boy seated in front of you, Ojiro, right between his shoulder blades. No amount of rambled apologies from you, nor sincere ’it’s okay!’s from the kind-hearted blond could stop that moment from searing itself into your memory. Just another reason you should never leave your room again.

Sinking into an unmade bed, you pulled your knees up to your chest. Feeble arms hugged your legs tightly as you desperately tried to shake the unpleasant thoughts from your own brain. “No,” you pleaded with yourself, “no, (Y/n), you’re not doing this again.” Fingernails dug into soft flesh beneath your school uniform’s knee-high socks, a momentary distraction from the sheer panic swelling inside your chest. Forehead pressed against bent knees, you hoped that if you made yourself small enough, maybe you could disappear entirely.

Accidentally interrupting someone during a conversation, tripping over your own feet while walking down the hall, getting anxious speaking to your redheaded crush and forgetting what you wanted to say altogether.

You couldn’t help but gasp for air, the angry burning of your lungs only worsening with every shallow breath as hot tears trailed down the sides of your face. There was no stopping the sobs that pushed past your lips, nor the self loathing thoughts that racked your brain. You pressed your back firmly against the cool drywall beside your bed with the vain hope that the sudden chill may keep you grounded.

Nearly spitting out your tea as Kaminari cracked a joke during lunch, not realizing you took someone else’s seat in the common room, bumping into an elderly woman on the train, dropping a handful of textbooks in front of your entire class.

A knock on the door momentarily pulled you from what seemed to be an inescapable frenzy of thoughts. You stumbled to your feet, stole a glance in the mirror beside your bed. Reluctant to allow someone else to see your puffy, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, you forced yourself to speak up, “uh- uhm,” your voice wavered with every word, but you cleared your throat and continued on, “I-I’m sorry, now isn’t really a good time.”

“Aw,” a familiar voice pouted from the other side, muffled by the wall between you, “well, think ya could let me in anyway?” It was Kirishima, the guy you’d been head-over-heels for since the beginning of your freshman year.

You refused to let him see you so disheveled, couldn’t bear the thought of willingly adding another embarrassing moment to your catalogue of painful memories.

“I’m sorry, I- well,” you wanted to lie, to make up an excuse as to why you couldn’t answer the door, but nothing came to mind. “I just can’t talk right now. Do you need something?”

“Yep! It’s really urgent, can’t wait another second!” He eagerly pleaded, and you just couldn’t find the will to say no.

Hastily drying your wet face with creased sleeves and fixing your hair to the best of your ability, you made your way to the door and cautiously inched it open.

The crimson haired boy stood before you with a box of your favorite candy in his hands and a warm smile on his face. His brows were knit together in concern, tender eyes wholly trained on you. He glanced both ways down the vacant hallway to ensure that no one was within earshot before speaking in a hushed tone, “you didn’t seem like yourself in class today. Like, you were quieter than usual, and then Bakugou was a bit of an ass earlier...“ He nodded to the cardboard container in his hands, “I’ve seen you eat this before and it always seems to put a smile on your face, so I thought maybe it could do the same today too.” His grin faltered for a moment, gaze dropping to the floor as if embarrassed by his own words. “It’s stupid, I know, but I had to do somethin’!”

Despite your best efforts, the happy facade you’d forced on for Kirishima fell, and your eyes welled with tears once again. Your bottom lip trembled as you tried to swallow the lump crawling up your throat. His gaze shifted from the floor, back up to meet yours, and he nearly dropped the container in his hands at the sight of you so close to crying.

Without a second thought, he threw his arms around your shoulders in a tight hug, “What’s wrong, (Y/n)?” His voice filled with worry, further breaking your heart, “Did I get the wrong kind of candy?”

“N-no,” you whimpered into his shoulder, unable to finish before the words caught in your mouth and tears wet the thin cotton of his shirt . Your arms wrapped around his waist, unconsciously reciprocating his hug. His warmth reminded you of just how long it had been since you’d let someone be so close. Your knees buckled under the weight of your own grief, and before you knew it, Kirishima was scooping you up into his strong arms. He carried you to the comfort of your bed, kicking the door closed as he passed.

“I knew you weren’t okay,” he muttered into your ear, tone much softer than you were used to from the boisterous man. He carefully set you down on your plush mattress, grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders, then knelt on the floor before you.

“I’m f-fine,” you forced out, trying to steady your voice but failing horribly, “You can go if you wa-want. I don't want to-”

Kirishima silenced you with a tender palm rested atop your own. “I’m not leaving you, (Y/n). Whatever’s going on, I care about you too much to make you deal with it alone.”

Up until then, you had made it a point to keep your anxiety hidden from your peers. You worried that they would treat you differently if they knew, that they wouldn’t quite understand. But, something about Kirishima told you that he was different, that nothing would change if you opened up to him. Regardless of your fears, the look in his eyes and tender cadence of his voice made you feel safe, like it was okay to be vulnerable.

“I,” your eyes flicked from your lap to meet his worried gaze, “I can’t help but remember everything I’ve done wrong over the years and just hate myself. I hate every mistake, every failure, every moment I did something dumb and didn’t know how to fix it.” Your stomach clenched as yet another sob forced its way past your lips. “I have so many regrets, and I constantly feel like an awful person because of them.”

A calloused thumb brushed along your upper cheek, wiping away the tracks of fallen tears. He nodded along as you vented, as if he understood exactly where you were coming from. Then, when you went silent, he waited for a few beats to ensure you were entirely finished speaking before responding. “I’m sure it doesn’t seem like it, but I used to be someone I’m not proud of either, and, honestly? Sometimes I still don’t like the person I see in the mirror.” He paused for a moment, lips pulled in a thin, contemplative line before continuing, “can you keep a secret?”

You nodded, surprised and mildly confused by his words. Could someone as confident and lovable as Kirishima really struggle with the same anxieties that you did?

He chuckled at the quizzical look you gave him, took a deep breath to steady his own nerves. “So, I actually didn’t look like this back in middle school -- hold up, I think I actually have a picture.” Five fingers flexed around your own, holding you close as his free hand fished into his pants pocket and pulled out a red-cased phone. Within a few seconds, ruby eyes were locked with your own once again, a shy smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Promise not to laugh?”

The redhead’s grin was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile with him. Your worries hadn’t been entirely forgotten, but with every word spoken between you, every passing second with his fingers entwined with your own, a subtle calm began to wash over you. “I’ll try not to,” you responded. That seemed good enough for him, and with only a short moment of hesitation, Kirishima turned the phone’s screen toward you to reveal a photo of himself from a few years before.

Long, black hair framed a round face, slender shoulders slumped and eyes downcast as he stood alone in the courtyard of what you assumed to be his old middle school. Your head cocked to the side, brows furrowed in disbelief as you looked from the photo to the person in front of you. For a moment, you thought he must have been kidding. The muscular, seemingly self-assured man that knelt before you didn’t resemble the boy on his phone in the slightest. “You’re serious? That was you?”

He nodded, clearly amused by your reaction. You wanted to ask what changed, how he pulled such a total one-eighty, but couldn’t find a way to without sounding rude.

He seemed to read your mind, though, and answered your question without hesitation. “I realized that I didn’t like the person I was, and vowed to be better.” He powered off the device in his hand and tossed it aside, attention entirely back to you, thumb unconsciously caressing the back of your hand as he continued. “I’m not telling you this because I think you need to change. Frankly,” his eyes darted to the floor, voice lowering nearly to a whisper, “I, uh, I really like the person you are now.” He cleared his throat, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks as his gaze flicked back up to meet yours. “I’m telling you this because, like I said before, I’m like you in a way. I can’t help but cringe when I remember the way I used to be, and I still worry sometimes that I haven’t actually changed that much.”

“But you have. I mean, you’re a completely different person now.”

“Exactly. Here’s what I’ve learned: if you cringe at something you did in the past, that’s probably because you’ve matured enough to know you were being dumb back then. Being able to look at your past self and recognize your mistakes means you aren’t that person anymore.” His other hand moved to rest atop your knee, as if he wanted to hold you closer but found himself hesitant.

You felt a weight lift from your shoulders at his words, yet still one question continued to gnaw at the back of your mind. “But, what if I’m beating myself up something I did recently… like,” your voice lowered in embarrassment, “when I a-accidentally threw that pencil at Ojiro, for example…”

“I promise, you’re the only one who even remembers that.” Kirishima chuckled softly, “you’re sweet for worrying about those little things, but no one worth knowing is gonna judge you off small mistakes. I know how great you are, and so does everyone else in our class. You light up every room you walk into, I swear. It’s like you’ve got a second quirk or somethin’.” You giggled, and his smile only grew wider. “I mean it! How could anyone not fall in love with that laugh?” The boy’s face turned bright red, eyes widening in realization at what he had said, grip tightening around your own. “Shit, I mean- well-” he cut himself off, sharp teeth nervously nibbling on his bottom lip.

His words resonated with you, filled the anxious pit in your stomach with warm butterflies and heated your cheeks with a rosey blush. Still, you convinced yourself he was only embarrassed because his words had come out in a different way than he had meant them. There was no way he actually had feelings for you, you thought. He was clearly just being nice. “I-It’s okay, I know you don’t like me like that. You’re way out of my league, anyway.” You forced a nervous laugh, attempting to comfort him through words that burned as they passed your lips.

You thought he’d relax at what you had said, agree with your comment, and thank you for understanding. Instead, he rose to his feet, a look of bewilderment in his eyes as he pulled you up to stand with him. “Do you really think that?” He questioned, expression twisted in disbelief, hurt by your self-deprecating words. His hands gripped yours tightly as you stood only inches from one another. Heat radiated off of his tan skin, shielding you from the chilly air of your room and prickling your arms with goosebumps.

“Sorry to break it to ya, but you couldn’t be more wrong.” Kirishima lightly tugged you closer, closed the distance between your bodies without a second thought. You allowed your chest to press against his, listening carefully as he continued, “I was afraid of making you uncomfortable or scaring you off, so I didn’t say anything before. But, if that’s really what you think, I’ve gotta set you straight. Truth is, I’m absolutely crazy for you, (Y/n). I mean, you’re cute, and sweet, and witty -- It’s impossible to take my eyes off of you whenever we’re in a room together, and just hearing your voice makes me feel warm all over.”

Calloused fingers released one of your hands, traveled up to caress a now-dry cheek. He cracked another sharp-toothed grin at the realization that you were no longer crying. “Can you do me a favor and tell me next time you start to feel all anxious and stuff again? Regardless of if you like me back, I just want to be there for you, whatever you need. It’s not very manly to fall for a girl, then leave her hangin’ when she needs ya the most.”

An eager nod in agreement was all you could manage for a long moment as you stood entirely awestruck by his confession. All you wanted was to find your voice, to tell him how much his efforts meant to you, but the words refused to come.

So, you did the next best thing.

The box of candies he had brought as a pick-me-up laid forgotten on your bed as tentative fingers gripped Kirishima’s broad shoulders and you rose onto your tiptoes. Without allowing yourself time for hesitation, you pressed pursed lips to a flushed-pink cheek. It wasn’t a large gesture, but in that moment it felt perfect.

You’d never seen Ejirou smile as wide as he did in that moment, strong hands firmly gripping your waist as you pulled away -- as if to make sure that you wouldn’t stray too far from his grasp. “That settles it then! Tomorrow I’m asking you out properly -- with flowers, and chocolates, and way more than just one box of your favorite sweets… but you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That we’ll take care of one another. I’ll never judge you, hurt you, or belittle whatever you’re struggling with, as long as you promise the same to me, okay? From now on ‘til the end of time, I’ve got your back unconditionally, and you’ve got mine. Promise?”

“Promise.”

#kirishima ejirou #no beta we die like men #kirishima #kirishima bnha #kirishima fluff #kirishima x reader #ejirou kirishima x reader #hurt/comfort #anxiety help #kiri writes #trigger warning: anxiety #fluff #bnha fluff #kiri gives good advice from my therapist #anyway #pls forgive me if this isnt that good #its been months since ive written a full fic #lub u be good to urself #its 4 am forgive me for typos and goodnight

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wonderwomanfantasy · 5 years ago

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Blood, Baths, and Bakugou

thank you for kicking things off annon! and before anyone asks this is the draft I posted accidentally 🤡

Bakugou x reader

word count: 1,200 (about)

warnings: Nudity, swearing, mentions of injuries and violence,

summary: you are convinced you can handle this by yourself, your hot-headed boyfriend? not so much...

You eased yourself back into the bath, the scalding water was maybe not the best idea for your marred back but you didn’t care. You cursed and fought back tears. The once clean water was already starting to darken with the filth that covered your body, and the blood that oozed from your cuts.

You huffed and did your best to ignore the sting, you grabbed a washcloth and began the grueling task of scrapping away the grime that covered you. Your hands shook with the effort, you could barely apply enough pressure to make even a dent. Suddenly the bathroom door swung open and hit the wall with a bang. you jumped, sending some of the water flyings. You yelped in surprise, but it was just Katuski.

“I am a lady you know? you could at least pretend to care about my modesty,” you grumbled but didn’t even bother trying to cover your naked body. you were so caked in rubbled and blood he probably couldn’t see much anyway.

“you’re a fucking moron,” Kastuki growled ignoring you and looking pissed off as ever in the doorway of your bathroom. He marched towards you sneering. He was still in his hero costume, he must have come straight from work after he saw your battle on the news.

“Look at you you’re a fucking mess!” he barked stopping next to the tub “(y/n) why the fuck didn’t they let them take you to the hospital?” he demanded you dropped your eyes unable to meet his blazing red eyes.

“come on It’s not that bad,” you mumbled, it was a lie and both of you knew it.

“(y/n) you are bleeding out in our fucking bathtub,” he shouted kicking the tub for emphasis. you just scoffed and rolled your eyes. It had been a nasty fight and Bakugou was right, as much as you hated to admit it, you probably should have let the paramedics take you away.

“I’m fine I just need to get this shit off of me,” you insisted and went back to scrubbing blood off your arm. he kneeled by the tub

“you could have died (y/n),” he whispered, making you pause he was never quite like this, not unless he was really mad.

“there were reporters there Kasuki,” you whispered hoping that would be enough to make him understand. it wasn’t.

“What did one of those fuckers shove a mic in your face or something?” he growled angrily.

“No- it’s just. you wouldn’t understand,” you sighed. He was a good Hero, Stronger than anyone else no one questioned his rank or skill, so how could he possibly understand your position?

“Just get out of here so I can get cleaned up,” you snapped which made him wince.

“eat shit, I’m not leaving you alone,” he responded then snatched the washcloth from your hands “you’re doing a shitty job cleaning yourself up anyways.” he bit down on his glove and yanked it off with his teeth the pushed up his sleeve before dunking his hand in the hot water.

Despite his aggressive personality, he was gentle when he touched you and he did a better job of cleaning you up then you would have done your self. your eyes fluttered shut. you relaxed in the tub moving whenever Katsuki prompted you to do so, then he got to your back, where the worst injury was. he sucked air through his teeth sharply.

“Fuck, look what they did to you,” he muttered to himself mostly. he didn’t even try to touch you, every other bruise and cut was small he could deal with those but this was a whole other level. he sat back looking at you

“explain to me what went through your dumbass head when you said you didn’t need help,” he demanded in that same quiet tone of voice that scared you.

“dose it matter Katsuki?” you snapped “I didn’t think I needed help so fuck off alright?” you told him.

You knew how what people thought about you, you were weak, too weak to be a real hero, every time you were in a fight there were whispers about how it would have been over quicker if it was another hero, every injury you got was proof that you weren’t good enough. the Reporters were there, recording your every move what would they have said if you had accepted help? if you had shown the world just how breakable you were?

If it had been Katsuki, he wouldn’t have even gotten hurt and if he had, no one would have dared called him weak, it would just mean the villain was unbeatable.

“Hey look at me,” Bakugou said softly cupping your cheeks. “Come on I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me Hotstuff.” he purred. you laughed lightly at the stupid nickname. your lower lip wobbled as you fought back tears.

“I don’t want people knowing how weak I am,” you whispered finally. he looked surprised.

“They all look at me Like I’m pathetic and I just couldn’t let them think they were right,” you said, the first tears started rolling down your face. Katsuki brushed the tears from your face and shushed you lightly.

“come on (y/n) you aren’t weak, you’re the strongest bitch I know,” he muttered “and anyone who thinks different clearly has never fought you,” he added soothingly. you smiled at that. If it was anyone else you might have thought they were just saying it to make you feel better. But If he had thought you were actually weak he would have told you so.

“thank you Katsuki,” you sniffled, he gave you a small smirk

“you want to know something?” he asked you nodded eagerly. he let go of your face to rub the back of his neck

“during our first year, during the sports festival.” he started “when you were up against Kaminari, and you kicked that dipshit’s ass, That’s the moment I knew I was in love with you,” he said in a moment of rare vulnerability. you couldn’t help but laugh, even though it hurt.

“katsu that’s- really?” it was sweet, if not a little weird.

“you were just really hot when you flipped him like it was nothing.” he reminisced making you laugh even more.

“who would have thought you were so romantic,” you laughed. his smile widened

“only for you Hotstuff, Now come one we’re going to get you dressed then straight to the hospital, I think you need stitches.”

“and If anyone calls your dumb ass weak for needing medical attention I’ll blast them to hell,” he promised. wrapping his arms around your midsection and hoisting you out of the filthy water. you hissed in pain as he hooked his arm under your waist.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered.

“it’s okay,” you muttered blinking out the stars that clouded your vision.

“Katsuki, thank you for this, and for everything,” you whispered.

“Shut up loser don’t get sentimental on me now,” he scoffed holding you closer to his chest despite how soaked you were. you were glad to hear him back to his normal self, some of the worry gone from his voice. you really did love him.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #imagine bakugou #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #my hero academia imagine

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ateezmakemeweep · 5 years ago

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richboy!seonghwa (part 16)

word count: 4k

fluff

(part 15) (series masterlist)

it wasn't even noon yet and the day has already left you defeated. because everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong today. after staying up until the wee hours of the morning finishing assignments and studying for tests, you had forgotten to set your alarm and woke up ten minutes before the first bell.

strike one, your first tardiness. two more and you'll get a weeks worth of detention.

you jumped out of bed and started to full on scramble, tripping over luna in the process as you ran around your room, toothbrush in mouth as you fumbled through your closet for a uniform. you flew down the stairs, nearly tumbling down the last three as you run out the door and forgetting your packed lunch in the fridge.

strike two, you get to starve at lunch.

and you could've sworn strike three and four was just for the amusement of some higher being watching, bored beyond belief and laughing at the way you nearly flip over your handle bars as your front tire blows out.

"no, no, no, you've gotta be kidding me!" you seethe in anger, jumping off your bike to assess the torn tire. and you can try to take deep breaths, in and out, in and out, until you've calmed down and used proper relaxation techniques; but you much prefer the method of letting out a giant curse and kicking the bike frame repeatedly before begrudgingly walking it to school.

and then, like the expense of a new tire and more lateness wasn't enough, you tripped up the stairs running into the main doors and promptly sliced your knee open.

so you'll have to be forgiven for the annoyed scowl on your face, sitting with a clenched jaw and bouncing leg as you relive your nightmare of a morning. because you try not to dwell on negative things, those little inconveniences that always potentially have the power to ruin your day. but it's just the matter in which it happened, one after another so chaotically causing your head to pound and your need to just crawl in bed and escape the politics of this stupid rich school.

because even though it's incredibly obvious you're having a bad day, these ruthless students don't care. you walk into 4th period, head down and hair covering your face until you see two feet under the desk you were about to plop in. you pick your head up to the see the girl who gave you shit on the first day looking at you with a cocked head and smirk.

"hello, new girl," she hums sarcastically and you resist the urge to scream at her.

"you're in my seat," you tell her quietly, matter-of-factly, just wanting for a second to get some peace today.

"oh, am i?"

you roll your eyes at her tone, nodding your head sarcastically and she squints her eyes menacingly. "you're getting awful bold now, aren't you? i heard about the shit you pulled at the ski trip, you know."

you can only raise your eyebrow, turning your head questioningly. and that's when she gets up and looms over you, staring down with a dark look in her eye.

"playing cinderella with seonghwa, are you? the poor girl and the prince," she says, tapping the horrendous shoes that of course she hasn't forgotten, "still have these...things, i see. and you still go and throw yourself at him? shameless."

you can only find it in yourself to sigh, looking at her with a blank expression. you're just on empty today, no energy in you to fight or defend yourself.

"got nothing to say?" she quips, poking your shoulder lightly and causing you to tip back. you huff before attempting to inch your body around her but she only bumps you with her hip so you stumble back into place.

"i wasn't done with you."

"well, i'm done," you say quietly, "i've had a realllly bad morning so if you could just leave me alone please."

the sarcastic laugh that blows in your face causes your fists to clench, frustrated tears starting to build behind your eyes because you just wanna put your head down and close your eyes and pretend you're anywhere but here.

"aw, i'm so sorry to hear that," her sharp whiney voice spits sarcastically, "but you've made my mornings pretty bad ever since you got here. stealing my seat and seonghwa's attention and subjecting me to look at such poverty."

and even with the frustrated tears stinging behind your eyes, you can't help but laugh at the last part of her statement. laugh at how old this shit is getting and how she really thinks you'll get upset by that.

"did i say something funny?" she asks, turning her head to the side challengingly and you think she's gonna try to rip your hair out.

"no," you say, pressing your lips into a tight line, "i just really want you to leave me alone so i can sit down and-"

"well i really want you to stop being here!" she screeches and your body juts back at the sheer sound and acidity in her tone. "i don't think you realize just how much everyone here fucking hates you." she's advancing toward you to intently, dark, crazy eyes boring into yours as you walk backwards. "how much we're embarrassed to see you here and that you're associated with us."

"well i don't wanna be here either," you bite back, finally, halting your feet so you hold your ground. "i hate that i have to deal with people like you here, who don't even know me and yet give me shit constantly for the stupidest thing. if i bother you that much, why can't you just leave me alone?" you ask, voice cracking as your resolve breaks.

because you don't wanna deal with this ever but especially today. your dejected spirit and pounding headache and throbbing knee just can't handle it.

"just pretend i'm not here and ignore me," you beg and you don't even realize the room is silent, hearing your pathetic pleas and wobbling voice. "ignore who i talk to and ignore my $10 shoes that apparently bother you so much and just fucking leave me alone."

she smirks when she hears the wobble in your voice, "aw, new girl, are you gonna-" but because her sharp, malevolent eyes have been boring into yours the whole time, she doesn't realize seonghwa in the doorway (who was trying but failed to take yeosang's advice) nor does she notice him walking up the aisle until you step back and bump into his chest.

his gaze meets yours when you turn around, eyes watering when you see his are full of concern and anger; you don't know what it is about him that makes you so weak and vulnerable in an instant. maybe it's because you know he'll take care of you in a second, without hesitation.

"what's going on, y/n?" he asks softly, placing his hand on your hip and guiding you around his body so he's standing in between you both.

"i...i just want-" you pause when you swallow down the frustrated sob, or scream, you don't really know at this point, and bite the inside of your cheek.

"what?" he asks lowly, moving in closer to you and rubbing his thumb soothingly against your hip. "tell me."

"i just want her to leave me alone," you squeak out, eyes meeting the floor so you miss the way his demeanor turns cold. how his eyes harden and jaw tenses before he turns to the red-faced bully.

"hi seong-"

"i'm not gonna tell you again," he spits darkly, taking a step closer to her, "she asked you to leave her alone so i suggest you leave her the fuck alone."

the girl's trapped against the wall now, because the whole time he was talking he was taking steps closer. and now seonghwa's looking down at her and shaking his head, "and if you don't, you're stupider than i thought."

"why do you always-"

"i don't remember saying you can ask me a question," he snaps, "so why are you talking?"

you watch as she gulps and you almost feel bad for her, because he really does sound scary.

"i-i"

"leave her alone and go sit down. now."

and just like anyone would, she immediately listens to his command until his voice speaks again when her body passes you.

"apologize to her."

you snap your head to look back at seonghwa, watery wide eyes staring at him as you shake your head. but he only stares at you challengingly and nods his head towards her. you turn around to see the girl looking at you in fear and it's such a contrast to how high and mighty she looked a minute ago.

"i'm sorry," she spits at you, the humbled look in her eye doing nothing for her bitchy tone. you answer by simply turning your back to her, making your way to your seat and finally plopping down. but seonghwa's still standing, looming over your desk and his gaze lands on your red, scrapped up knee; his body immediately tenses.

"did she do that?"

your head snaps up immediately at the rage in his deep voice.

"no," you squeak out, shaking your head side to side quickly. "i fell this morning. one of the many unfortunate series of events."

he squints his eyes at you, pursing his lips before holding his hand out.

"come with me."

your eyes travel from his outreached hand to his face, handsome as always but void of expression.

"where?"

his lips quirk into the smallest of smiles.

"just come," he says lowly, "please." and just like that, you grab his hand and he leads you out of the silent room.

you know the second you're both in the hallway that the excited chatter starts up again, hearing the loud booms of "oooh" and high-pitched shrills echo throughout the classroom.

but you can only pay attention to seonghwa leading you down the hall, tightening his grip on your hand as his intertwines your fingers.

"where are we going?" you ask him as he continues to wordlessly drag you.

"the nurse," he says, "you didn't clean that, did you?"

"i didn't have the time," you mumble lowly and he only shakes his head at you, a scolding look on his face.

when you get to the office, the nurse leads you both to one of the rooms stocked with band-aids and first-aid kits, a white twin bed shoved into the corner that seonghwa guides you over to. he gestures for you to sit before walking across the room and fumbling in the shelves.

he's back over to you in seconds, band-aids, alcohol, and antiseptic cream in hand. he places them down, gently tugging your knee-high sock down and cringing when he sees your torn skin.

"this is bad, y/n, why didn't you come here?" he asks, looking up at you from his squatting position. you can only find it you to shrug, watching and hissing through your teeth when he swipes the pad over your skin.

"sorry," he says lowly, a slight pout on his face as he dabs at your leg. you watch him thoughtfully, the delicate way in which he cleans your wound wrenching your heart, soft, gentle swipes before he looks at you with a small smile.

"just this now," he mumbles, his fingertips grazing yours when he picks up the band-aid and places it on your knee. his touch is light and precise and it's making your chest hurt even more. not just because of the bad day you've been having but because of...everything. your conflicted mind and feelings of guilt and the way he's just so kind to you.

he throws out the excess packaging before taking a seat next to you, turning to face you as he silently looks you over.

"do you feel better now?" he asks, the slightest hint of teasing in his voice.

but again, you can only nod while a humorless chuckle leaves your mouth. "yeah... thank you seonghwa," and your voice is so small and quiet he feels a pang in his heart. because you sound...sad, almost detached.

"you don't seem better," he remarks gently, cautiously, like he doesn't wanna upset you further but also wants to see you happy again.

"just a bad morning," you squeak out, frustration swirling through you at the pounding in your head. "i..don't know why she wouldn't just leave me alone. i've had such a bad morning and i just wanted her to stop talking."

"she won't bother you again," he mumbles, bringing his arm up slowly to wrap around your shoulders. you let out a quiet, tired sigh, allowing yourself to lean into him despite your knotted stomach. because you shouldn't be accepting his comfort right now.

he smiles feeling your head rest on him, thumb moving across your skin slowly and you move your head further into him with a wince. "my head just hurts," you whine and without a word, he brings his hand up to your temple. you groan slightly when his thumbs starts to massage the side of your head, closing your eyes and basking in the slight relief he's giving you.

"nice," you mumble and his quiet chuckle surrounds the small room.

you both just sit there, eyes closed as your head rests on his shoulder while he rubs at your temple slowly; an occasional hum leaves his mouth when he hears a tiny murmur from you.

"why don't you lay down?" he mumbles after a few minutes, "i'll get your stuff from the room, yeah?"

"it's okay, i'll just go back with-" but when you stand, a painful pang jolts into the side of your head and his hands shoot out to steady you by your hips. he gently turns you so you're standing in between his legs and you're not used to the angle of looking down at him, head cocked to the side and brow raised as he watches you with soft eyes.

"please, y/n, just listen to me," he whines and the underlying command in his voice has you squinting your eyes at him. "why are you looking at me like that?"

your serious face quickly gets wiped away by a small giggle, shaking your head at him and it's like he knows he's in the clear now. he stands and watches you lay on the hard bed, fluffing up your pillow so it leans against the wall.

"seonghwa, if you start tucking me in, i'm gonna scream."

a guilty look crosses his face and you bite your lip to hide your smile. but he catches it anyway and it's enough to bring one to his face, happy to see the ghost of a happy expression on your face.

"there it is," he says cheekily, tapping the crease in the corner of your mouth causing you to scrunch your nose up at him in distaste.

"don't you ever get sick of taking care of me?" you ask him quietly, "it's gotta be getting annoying."

a tiny snort leaves him as he looks down at you, bending so he's at eye level with you. he runs his hand through your hair, tucking it behind your ear and causing you to swallow nervously.

"in case you haven't noticed, i throughly enjoy it. probably more than i should."

a tiny laugh bubbles out of your mouth as you shake your head at him; you will never understand how the hell this happened.

"and besides, if i didn't, who else would?" he quips with a small smile, tapping your nose lightly and you hope he doesn't notice your face pale.

'yeah, who else, y/n?' that snippy part of your mind thinks.

his eyebrows furry when he sees you shake your head, as if you're shaking thoughts from it, and you smile innocently up at him. "right," you awkwardly laugh out.

"i'll be back in a few, okay?"

you salute him sarcastically, watching him leave and you feel yourself let out an exhale you didn't even realize you were holding when he walks out the door.

"he probably wouldn't do this anyway," you mumble to yourself.

the second seonghwa walks out of the nurse's office, san nearly barrels into him. "oh shit, sorry br- oh! seonghwa!" he chirps happily before he notices where he's coming from. "are you sick?"

"y/n wasn't feeling good, a headache," he says and san's face immediately drops, a pout forming on his lips as he looks through the glass of the window for you. "she's laying down inside," he informs the boy until a thought crosses his mind.

"hey...do you wanna come with me somewhere real quick?"

san shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly before nodding his head. "sure, where we going?" he watches seonghwa fish in his pockets for his car key, throwing it to the boy who catches it with ease.

"pull my car around, i gotta get her stuff and then i'll meet you."

once the two boys disperse, seonghwa goes to the room and hushly explains to the teacher he's there to get your stuff before he's back in the hall and rushing back down to the nurse. and when he opens the door to the room again, he feels his heart swell.

because within those five minutes, you had fallen asleep. hands under your cheek, with a peaceful soft look on your face. he smiles to himself, quietly walking over and placing your bag at the foot of the bed. he roams your slumbering face with a sickeningly soft expression, allowing himself to admire you looking so peaceful and content for a few moments.

and then before he turns to leave, he places a soft kiss on your forehead and lets his lips linger, mumbling a few hushed words against your skin.

"i don't know, guys, i was like half in-half out of sleep," you tell mingi and yunho two periods later. they had seen you come in with messy hair and pink cheeks and looked at each other suspiciously. "i was sleeping, you pervs," you grumbled at them, throwing mingi a dirty look when he makes a snide comment about you and yeosang between the bookshelves yesterday.

"okay, but you heard something, right?" yunho inquires, arms folded onto the table.

"you're like a 13-year-old gossip girl," mingi says sarcastically, bumping the large boy's arm who only throws him a dirty look.

"i don't know," you squeak out, "maybe friday? but what's friday? why friday?"

"i don't know," yunho says before they both look at mingi.

"what, i don't know," his deep voice quips, "maybe...he's gonna ask you on a date?"

"oh, my god, don't say that!" you squeal, throwing your hands over your face prompting mingi and yunho to throw looks at each other again.

"why would that be such a bad thing?" mingi asks you softly.

"because she likes yeosang," yunho whispers. but apparently not low enough.

"i do not," you spit out causing the boy to laugh and your cheeks heat. because, okay, you can even admit that's a lie.

"okay, maybe i do," you whisper, "but...i also like seonghwa. how can i not, he's just so..."

"safe," yunho says, "you know he likes you and he's perfect but almost a little too perfect. and nice, but almost a little too nice."

"oh jesus christ," mingi mumbles, "and here he goes, about to defend-"

"but yeosang, there's passion there. and fire. you hate to love him."

you and mingi fall into the same position, head cradled in hands as you wonder how on earth you got yourself into this kind of situation so fast and mingi tries to remember the time he had peace and quiet during his lunch hour.

"well, you know my stance on the matter," mingi grumbles causing your head to pop up.

"this is a disaster," you whine, "i feel like i'm two timing seonghwa."

"how do you figure?" yunho asks, "you've known each other for what, three weeks? it's not like anything was ever made official."

"i know," you say quietly, "but me and yeosang agreed not to tell anyone about...what i told you guys yesterday. so i feel like, i don't know, it's a dirty little secret."

"the excitement of forbidden romance," yunho whispers to mingi, "i'll just keep tacking on reasons why her and yeosang are superior."

"i'm gonna punch you in the mouth."

your phone buzzing on the table has your eyes traveling to the screen, widening when you see seonghwa's name pop up. you alert the boys he texted you and they both, even mingi who just talked shit to yunho three seconds prior, jump up and lean closer.

"what'd he say?" they ask in unison.

you swipe your phone open and you look up at them with wide eyes.

"he wants me to meet him at his car after school."

and when the bell rings at three, that's exactly what you do. nervousness floods through you almost immediately, sweaty palms and knotted stomach as you make your way to the parking lot. the only feeling of comfort you get is the five buzzes coming from your phone, undoubtedly from mingi and yunho who demanded to exchange numbers and start a group chat.

and that's when you see him, leant against the hood of his car looking ethereal in his change of casual clothes and windblown black hair. you stumble over to him clumsily, hands behind your back nervously as you approach him with a small smile.

"hi," you squeak out and his whole face brightens when he sees you standing in front of him.

"hey, little one. you feeling better?"

you nod your head, walking closer to him and crossing your arms over your chest. "much better. my headache's gone and my knee doesn't even hurt," you say, wiggling your leg out in front of you.

"that's good," he smiles, eyes catching your shoes before looking up at you. "i got you something."

"oh?" you squeak, bringing your foot back down. you watch him with cautious eyes at he smirks at you, opening his back door and ushering you over with his finger. you peak inside and your eyes widen when you see a red box in the backseat of his car.

"what...what is that?"

there's no way. he didn't. he wouldn't. like yunho said, you've only known each other for three weeks. he wouldn't get someone he's known for three weeks a-

"before you freak out...." he prompts, "i missed your birthday so consider this a present."

"you don't even know when my birthday is, seonghwa," you say, anxiety starting to bubble up in you.

"exactly," he says playfully, "so i definitely missed it."

and when he lifts the box, you nearly pass out because there lies the glossiest pair of black shoes you've ever seen in your life. they're simple flats, adorned with a pretty little bow just under the toe and they're absolutely stellar compared to the tattered, slightly deformed ones on your feet.

"this isn't funny," you squeak out, "how much were those?"

"it doesn't matter," he says.

"it doesn't ma- of course it does!" and your voice squeaks and raises a little more than you intended. but he doesn't look phased, almost as if he was expecting this reaction from you.

"y/n c'mon..." he says calmly.

"seonghwa," you whine, "you can't honestly expect me to accept these."

"why not?" he asks, "then they'll at least stop harassing you about your shoes."

and the look that crosses your face he must mistake as insulted or offended because he's quick to speak again.

"not that there's anything wrong with them, i just..." his eyes roam over your face and it's like he's desperate for you to understand his intentions were pure. "i don't want them harassing you anymore. i hate seeing you sad, y/n. but that seems to be the shit they always say to you so..."

you bite your lip in frustration because fuck even when he's making you mad, you can't be.

he meant well, you know he did, but it's too much for you. too much for barely knowing you, jesus christ he doesn't even know your birthday, and too much when your feelings are so up and down and your mind is also on someone else.

"are you mad?"

you resist the urge to frown at his question because he sounds so unsure of himself, something you haven't quite heard from him.

"no, i'm not mad," you say quietly, "but i can't-i can't accept th-"

"ooh-a ooh-a! y/n with her new ferragamo, she's a fancy girl," wooyoung's loud voice booms through the parking lot and seonghwa covers his face in irritation. you turn around to see him, san and yeosang making their way over, the latter boy staring right into you.

"cut the shit, woo," seonghwa warns as san saunters up to excitedly.

"do you like them, y/n? i spotted them."

"they're beautiful, san," you tell him, smiling softly before your gaze moves to seonghwa. "but i cannot accept them. is your mother the same size? i'm sure she would love them."

"what?!" san shrieks.

"are you out of your mind!" wooyoung yelps, "look at the damn ones on your feet right now and-"

you hear a harsh shushing sound come from yeosang followed by a pained groan from wooyoung; you can only assume the boy elbowed him.

"walk me to my car," his deep voice rings before he quickly drags wooyoung and san away.

"thank you, i really do appreciate it, seonghwa," you tell him and your eyes search his to see if he's offended in anyway. because you would hate if this hurt him but he honestly couldn't have thought you would..

he lets out a sigh, shaking his head as he looks at you with a twinge of wonder in his eyes. but no pain, no insult, just that ever present look of warmth. "i assumed you wouldn't," he says softly, "but i had to try."

"i'm sorry," you wince and he lets out a chuckle.

"you're not seriously apologizing after i just surprised you with shoes," he says and you let out a strangled giggle of your own.

"you're too nice, you know," you tell him and against your better judgement move closer to him to fix a piece of his windblown hair. "some would say i probably don't deserve it."

"yeah? and who's that?" he hums, "i'll be sure to have a word with them."

you let out a scoff, shaking your head as you roll your tongue over your lips. "be nice."

"i thought i was too nice," he teases with a roll of his eyes and you push him lightly before stepping a few feet back.

"i'll see you tomorrow? no shoes please."

"maybe just a jacket," he hums, a smile brightening his face when he sees you squint your eyes at him.

"tomorrow," he says and the way he's looking at you has your heart pulling in your chest.

because it's different from fluttering, it's the kind of pulling that's almost...painful. like your heart is physically hurting at the sight of him looking at you so happy and soft. like your heart knows what's about to ensue.

you pass yeosang's car on your way to the bike rack, your eyes meeting through the windshield and holding the same pained expression. because you both can only keep this up for so long, keep your secrets and crushing guilt away until it all blows up in your face.

(part 17)

#seonghwa #yeosang #seonghwa fluff #yeosang fluff #ateez #ateez series #moodboard #ateez fluff

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