#this was also supposed to be way shorter but whoops it got away from me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

longlivefanfic-net · 2 years ago

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106 & 146 w nancy wheeler PLEASE dawg i need it so bad fr 🙁 also i know how ppl hc nancy as a dom but in my head that girl is my prissy princess and i need so bad to give her the sex that no man could 🤷🏽also it would be cool if you could fit in something to do w nancy x barb bc that’s a hc that I’ve had for a while :) & bi nancy finally accepting herself 🤭 okay yes im probably gg be spamming reqs like this every so often- much love !! -maxaroni & cheese (wow im so funny hahaha 😐)

Maxaroni! I feel like it's taken me FOREVER to get this finished for you (sorry!!!) but it is DONE. I hope you like it!

Prompts: “I’m going to fuck you until you forget that asshole’s name.” and “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh…no, I was just…” “Want some help?”

Content: sapphic reader; afab!reader; afab!reader x Nancy Wheeler; college roommates; smut, just like a lot of queer smut; some pining on the readers side because why not; Nancy Wheeler has a praise kink; mommy kink; Jonathan x Nancy

Word count: 7.1k (this was supposed to be short WHOOPS)

Summary: You meet Nancy the day you move into your shared college living space and spend the next few months desperately wishing to be between her legs. But she's got a boyfriend! And a plan for her life! Right?!

Nancy Fuckin' Wheeler

It wasn’t your fault you had fallen for your roommate. She had shown up on move-in day, had simply appeared, like the pixie she resembled, in the too-small room you were expected to share for the next nine months. Her brown hair had been curly, shorter back then, with bangs that brushed the tops of the lashes that framed her large, round eyes. She had smiled at you, striding across the tiny room with her hand already extended, and you had noticed the way her nose wrinkled, right at the tip, when she grinned and you were gone. “I’m Nancy,” she had said, picking up your hand to shake, firmly, like she shook a lot of men’s hands and was tired of being told she had a weak grip. “Nancy Wheeler.”

You had played it cool for the first few weeks. This was your college roommate–if you didn’t fuck this up, she might end up being your best friend for life. It’s not like you could say, “Hi, Nancy, nice to meet you, I like girls and think you’re hot!” No. No way. And, if you were honest, you couldn’t risk isolating the only person you knew at Emerson. It was lonely in those big buildings, the bustling sounds of city life right outside every window yet feeling so far away. You wanted Nancy to be your friend, and you had thought that meant you had to pretend to be…like her.

After a few weeks, though, you couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore. Nancy had taken to having full conversations with you while she changed in the mornings, tossing her towel on her bed when she got back from the shared bathroom. She’d hold intense eye contact with you, chattering away the entire time about her classes, and her plans for the day, and whether you wanted to go grocery shopping with her that day, and her boyfriend, always her damn boyfriend. She’d stand on the other side of your narrow bedroom, completely naked, practically daring your eyes to slip from her face, and talk at a hundred miles a minute about Jonathan, this perfect Jonathan, who was always coming to visit that weekend but never actually showed up.

When you cracked, she didn’t even react. It was during a rare moment of silence, her back still wrapped in her towel and turned to you as she pulled a top out of her neatly-organized closet. Your eyes were fixed on the back of Nancy’s neck; her brown hair was pinned up, and the pale skin of her neck still had beads of water from the shower darkening the fine curls that lay flat against her skin. You watched a drop of water slide down her skin, tangle in that one, C-shaped piece of hair that had fallen out of the clip, and felt your eyes glaze over; you wished, desperately, to be water, to be able to slide over her porcelain body, touching without touching, and find rest in her hair. “You know I like girls, right?” You had blurted out, the words throwing themselves desperately off your tongue to land with a disgusting smack in the middle of the room, as bare and naked as Nancy tended to be.

She turned her head over her shoulder, barely glancing away from the shirt in her hands. “Oh! No, I didn’t know that.” You stood, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for Nancy to call you names or tell you she was uncomfortable or tell you to request a room change but instead–instead, all you got was a slight blush over her cheeks when she turned back to you. “Did you–did you want me to change in the bathroom?” You shook your head, suddenly numb to the sounds of the cars in the street, the people yelling at each other on the sidewalks, the sounds of your other roommates making breakfast in the kitchen. It all disappeared when Nancy smiled at you–almost shyly, her lips only slightly tilting up at the corners before her eyes ducked down–and removed her towel.

Afterwards, Nancy had taken it upon herself to make sure you knew you were welcome to bring over whoever you wanted. She eyed girls at the grocery store, the coffee shop, the diner the two of you frequented for late night pancakes, and nudged you, using those wide eyes to motion towards the girls she had picked out for you. She had good taste, you had to give her that–but the girls Nancy picked were always too tall, their hair too light, their bodies too full for who you really wanted.

One night, late–or early, really–the two of you were nestled into the couch, swathed by blankets, Nancy’s pajama clad legs in your bare lap as you passed a carton of ice cream back and forth. The other roommates had gone out earlier, disappearing in a haze of hairspray and blue eyeshadow with promises to be back for lunch tomorrow. Nancy had declined their invitations, staying home and waiting for Jonathan to call. When he didn’t, you slipped downstairs, running across the street to the bodega for a can of Coke and Nancy’s favorite icecream.

The night slipped away with the two of you there, sitting by the phone–”just in case,” Nancy said, biting her too-full bottom lip as she avoided your eyes. The conversation started innocently enough: You wanted to comfort her, and had started sharing stories of your own pathetic dating life. She laughed so hard she snorted, actually snorted, her nose wrinkling and her eyes creasing at the corners as she closed them, when you told her about the boyfriend you barely let touch you in high school, the “best friend” you had “practiced” with instead.

“I did that too!” She exclaimed, her voice high and breathless between the sweet peals of her laughter. Her feet pressed into the bare skin of your legs, toes digging against soft skin as you tried to ignore the goosebumps that raced down your arms. She was so warm, so full of light as she gazed at you, and the weight of her body, sprawled so casually over yours, felt so right, felt like home. “I did that too,” she said. “My friend, Barb–she was my first kiss. We said we were ‘practicing’ for when boys decided to date us.”

You reeled in your shock, loosening the fingers that had immediately tightened around her ankles at the words. Nancy Wheeler–Nancy “Perfect” Wheeler, Nancy “4.0” Wheeler, Nancy fuckin Wheeler–kissed girls? Nancy eyed you from the other end of the couch, the television light flickering over her brows, still high with the glimmer of her laugh. Her cheeks were dark, a blush building there as she held your eyes with her own. “What?” She asked, her voice suddenly low. “You didn’t know I kissed girls?” She cocked her head, slightly, the movement exposing the side of her throat. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, aggressive thumps, as her eyelids lowered slightly. Her lips parted, just barely, and you watched the pink tip of her tongue wet the very edges of the lush bow.

“Nancy,” you replied, your shaking voice betraying you, your body betraying you as it warmed under her gaze. “That’s…kinda gay.” Nancy rolled her doe eyes, smirking slightly. “Are you–Nancy, do you like girls?” She shrugged her pajama-clad shoulders, angling her head towards the TV. “Yeah,” she said, flicking a heavy-lidded glance back at you. “And guys. It’s not a big deal.” She said it so nonchalant, said it like she hadn’t just rocked your world and flipped it on its axis, like she hadn’t made your heart jump into your throat. Nancy liked girls. Nancy could like you. Hell, it almost seemed like she was flirting with you. Except–

Except for Jonathan. Fucking Jonathan, who happened to call at that exact moment, like your thought of his name summoned him from California, the earsplitting ring of the telephone making both you and Nancy jump. She grabbed, desperately, at the receiver, picking up the heavy plastic and cradling it between her strong chin and shoulder. “Hello?” She whispered, breathy with her excitement. “Yeah. No, it’s fine, it’s– I can talk.” She looked over her shoulder at you and, if you didn’t know better, you’d have thought she looked guilty.

You smiled, bitterly aware that it didn’t meet your eyes, and slid her feet off your lap. Standing up, you stretched–the two of you had been on that couch, skin touching skin, for hours now, and your joints felt stiff. Nancy watched, either unaware or uncaring that you could see her eyes fixate on the way your oversized t-shirt lifted with your arms, the hem dancing over the edges of your underwear. Heat pulsed through your core, a sudden, desperate throbbing, as her eyes met yours from where she sat on the couch. Your breath caught, slightly, in your chest, and you turned, heading to the bathroom for a cold shower–and, if that didn’t work, a few minutes alone with your hand and the image of Nancy, eyes wide and hungry, jaw loose like it was waiting for you to guide it.

After your shower–and, yes, a few minutes of picturing Nancy’s face, Nancy’s body, Nancy’s neck and skin and hair and lips–you headed back to your shared bedroom. Nancy was no longer in the living room, not lazed over the arm of the couch while she giggled with Jonathan on the phone. You opened the door to your bedroom quietly, hoping she’d already be asleep. She was in her bed, a small bundle of limbs and dark hair tucked in amidst the lightly colored bedding of her twin-sized mattress.

She wasn’t asleep. Maybe you had turned the door handle too quietly. Maybe she heard you and just didn’t care. Either way, when you closed the door with a soft snick, Nancy kept her eyes closed, continued to thrust her hips lightly against, you assumed, the hand hidden under her bedspread. You felt your heart stutter in your chest, your knees suddenly weak; she was beautiful, gorgeous, somewhere between frustrated and focused as she worked against her own skin. “Nance,” you whispered, and her eyes shot open, wide and all-too-innocent as she fluttered her lashes at you across the room. “Were you just masturbating?”

“Um,” she replied, cheeks dusting lightly with a pink blush that matched her bedspread, “U-uh…no, I was just…” Nancy’s eyes flitted nervously around the room, her lips pressing together into a hard, embarrassed line, and you watched her throat bob as she swallowed. It was the swallow that did it, of all things. Your newfound best friend, your roommate, laying in bed with her dark curls spread under her angelic face had already driven you to the edge, but watching her throat move as she swallowed, wishing you could taste that swallow, finally hurled you over the precipice you had been dancing on since the first time you had lain eyes on her.

“Want some help?” The words burst from between your lips, your body going cold and then hot as the blush raced under your skin. But the words were out, were hanging in the air between the two of you, and all you could do now was wait, your veins full of ice. Nancy’s eyes widened, her jaw relaxing and going slack so that her lips parted. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the full, rosebud pink curves, wishing to be in between them; that’s why you couldn’t miss it when they shifted, just slightly, letting Nancy’s whispered “yes” glide under your skin.

The ice in your veins melted, the sudden liquid rushing in your ears, as the heat you had just dulled sparked back to life in your stomach. You pushed down the excitement, the fear that swirled through your body; it was important, so, so important that you handle this right. You walked towards her tiny bed slowly, giving her plenty of time to say “I was kidding!” or “Nevermind,” as you shifted her blankets aside, sliding your half-clothed body into the bed next to her. Nancy shifted her face, just slightly, so that her oversized eyes were trained on your face when she blinked, a rush of blood rising to the surface of her cheeks.

You looked down at Nancy’s slender body as you propped yourself up on one arm, pressing yourself closer to her under the warmth of the blankets. Jonathan–the mysterious Jonathan, who never came to visit when he said he would, who only existed to you as the framed photograph on Nancy’s desk–flashed in your mind, and you wondered if he was the reason Nancy was rutting her hips against her own hand; if he had spent those minutes you were in the shower whispering in her ear across the phone lines, making her desperate for him, for the feeling of his body pressed against hers. It doesn’t matter, you thought to yourself. I’m the one in bed with her. The thought made you blush, and your eyes skittered away from Nancy’s, floating down the outline of her body under the blankets she was covered by.

“You don’t have to–” Nancy suddenly whispered, watching the heat building along your neck and cheeks, and you cut her off, jumping on the words and stubbing the burning embers of her rejection out before it could flame. “I want to,” you whispered back, the words shocking you as they pressed into the room, making their presence felt in your core with a brush of heat. Nancy just stared, doe eyes blinking rapidly as she pressed her lips together, swallowing again and–fuck, what you would have given to taste the inside of her mouth. She looked, pointedly, at her body, hidden under the bedspread, before flashing her eyes back to you.

You pulled the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying it slightly, before slipping your free hand over her body, her flat stomach and soft thighs, until it was over the hand she still had wedged between her legs. “Move your hand, Nancy,” you commanded, watching the blankets so you didn’t have to look at her. When she pulled her hand away from her sex, you could have sworn that, for just a moment, she let her fingers brush against your palm.

Slowly, your fingers cupped around Nancy’s folds, luxuriating in the heat emanating from her skin. When you slipped your middle finger in between her lips, stroking once, you kept your face carefully turned away from hers, refusing to watch the shuddering gasp fall from her lips. Your finger was poised at her entrance, ready to push inside of her–or pull back–with the slightest hint of what she wanted. “Nance,” you said, your voice low and quiet. “This is going to feel better if I get you wet first.” You let the silence build between the two of you, stretching on for what felt like an agonizing length of time. “Can I kiss you?”

“O–okay.” The voice under you was timid, shy, unlike the Nancy you had come to know in the last few months. You angled your head towards hers, desperately seeking out her face in the dim light of your shared bedroom. Nancy was watching you, eyes eager as she licked her lower lip. The warm lap of fire in your core suddenly tightened, blazing as you leaned down, ducking your head to her strong jaw. Your lips pressed against the coolness of her skin, the hard line of her angular jaw, and you felt her chest hitch under you, her body shake with the desire that buried itself in her lungs at the touch of your mouth on her body.

You pulled back, peering at Nancy’s face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted as she lay under you, glowing in the soft beams of moonlight that slanted in through the window, radiant; she was a Renaissance painting against her pillow, a woman blissful in the throes of passion, seduced by an immortal god. Your body, your soul cried out for you to touch her, touch her, and you leaned down, pressing your lips against the long line of her throat, the column of smooth skin, before running your tongue over it. The tiniest, softest moan escaped Nancy’s lips as your tongue warmed her skin and–

You felt her body under your hand, still cupping her sex, flutter. Her walls tightened, almost imperceptibly, as your finger waited for her body to grant you entrance. When you felt the rush of slick dripping in between her folds, sliding over your hand, you slipped yourself inside of her. Nancy whimpered, eyes still closed under you as you curled your finger slightly, pressing against the warm, tight wall of her body. “Shh,” you murmured, and your free arm pressed itself into her pillow, your hand pushing her curls out of her face so you could watch her eyes tighten, her brow crease. She moaned again, barely more than a sigh, and you felt her hips tilt up, pushing your finger deeper inside of her. You couldn’t stop the grin that slipped over your lips–and she couldn’t see it, anyways, her eyes shut as her head rolled back on her pillow.

“More,” Nancy moaned, and you ignored the spreading heat in between your legs as you bullied a second finger into her. She was tight, much tighter than you ever would have dreamed, and you could feel her clenching around the forced spread of your hand inside of her. You rotated your wrist, pulling your fingers back before slipping them in again and again, never fully pulling them out as she gasped with each thrust. “More, more,” Nancy’s voice came to you like a prayer falling from her lips, begging, pleading for you to touch her; you dipped your head, lips latching on to her exposed collarbone as she mewled.

Nancy ground her hips against your hand, her desire coating your palm and other fingers now, desperate for more friction as you filled and stretched her. “What is it, babygirl?” You heard yourself whispering against Nancy’s throat, the words slipping out without your permission. “What do you need from mommy?” Nancy’s hips stuttered against your hand, a physical reflection of her shock at the growl in your words, the low, coaxing tone that wallowed in between your bodies.

“Need–I want–” Nancy stuttered, and you dared to glance up at her from where you suckled on her throat.

“Use your words.”

“I want you to touch my clit.”

“Good girl,” you whispered, and Nancy whimpered, a high-pitched sound that scratched itself out a home in your heart as it fell from her lips. You let your thumb push in between her folds, seeking out the swollen bud above her opening. Pushing into it, you reveled in the sound of Nancy’s breathing, harsh pants now as her hips lifted again and again. “You’re doing so good, sweet girl,” you breathed into her skin, fingers curling inside of her as your thumb rubbed harsh, fierce circles. “Keep going. Keep going until you cum for me, baby.”

Nancy whined at your words, and you felt her suddenly clench around you, drawing your fingers even deeper into her body. You moved your thumb faster, whispering “that’s my girl, that’s my girl, go ahead, baby,” as her panting turned into soft cries, little moans that elevated in pitch as her body pulled, tightening and releasing in short spasms. When she stopped, her hips slowing, her muscles loosening around you suddenly, you kept your fingers resting in her warmth. Pulling your face back from her neck, you carefully avoided Nancy’s eyes, avoided seeking out the sweat and blush on her face that was meant to be your reward, and carefully pulled your hand from her body, gentle as her walls twitched.

Your hand came up from under the blankets, dripping and coated in the clear expression of Nancy’s satisfaction, of what you had to assume was her enjoyment of your touch. You chanced a glance back at her, still lying on the pillows. Nancy’s eyes were on your hands, the corners of her eyes tight as her mouth pressed into a hard line; you felt the burn of rejection simmer in your gut, a byproduct of the guilt and shame you read in her face. “I’m just–I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you said, flipping Nancy’s blanket back and standing up suddenly, desperately hoping she couldn’t see the discoloration where your underwear was soaked through, couldn’t see the glimmer of slick dripping down your own thighs.

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

The two of you never spoke about it. Never, not once, over the next few months did you bring it up–and there were chances to. When you brought a girl home from a Halloween party, Nancy didn’t ask if you got her off the same way you did her; when she left to go back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving, you didn’t ask if her own hand would satisfy her the way yours had; and when either of you entered your room late at night, you both always knocked first, giving the other time to whip their hand out from their underwear and feign sleep.

It almost felt like you had made it up, like it was some too-vivid dream. Like you had dreamt what Nancy’s throat tasted like, like you had dreamt how her hair smelled like jasmine, like you had dreamt that her fingers had tightened in the fabric of your shirt as she came, like you had dreamt of her face cradled so gently in your palm while you pushed her hair out of her face.

Or worse–like you had dreamt up the little glances she shot you in the kitchen as you poured coffee, her eyes darting away nervously as soon as they met yours; had dreamt the way her eyes pulled together with hurt when you had walked the girl from the Halloween party out of your apartment, ducking slightly to avoid the kiss the girl had tried to press to your mouth at the front door, aware of Nancy’s gaze on the back of your head; had dreamt the blush that darkened her cheeks as she took calls from Jonathan in your living room, the phone ringing for her less and less often.

The one thing that you knew you weren’t creating in your own head was the silence. Because Nancy still changed in your shared room, exposing her full body–the soft, pale thighs your hand had parted, the pert, firm breasts you had felt against your torso when you leaned into her–to you as she pulled her clothes, but now she did it without speaking.

You would have let the silence go on forever, would have lived in quiet for the rest of the year and moved out in the spring and spent the rest of your life pushing thoughts of Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Fuckin’ Wheeler, out of your head for the rest of your life. Would have never spoken to her again, if that’s what she wanted, until December.

She had packed her bags, chattering at top speed to all of the roommates: Jonathan had called, had made plans for the two of them, had booked her a flight–she was going to California for Christmas. She’d spend the holidays wrapped around the boy you resented, snuggled warm under his blankets, his hand between her thighs instead of yours, exchanging presents and kisses, while you sat alone in the drafty apartment you all shared. The other roommates were going out of town, too, with promises to bring back their family’s cookies and cakes for you since you were the only one not planning on leaving for the month of break.

When Nancy left, she had flung an arm around the neck of each girl; had hugged them quickly, but fiercely, like she wanted them to know that she loved them but not enough to stay. When she walked up to you, her arms were slower–she wrapped both of the thin, long limbs around your waist instead of your neck, pulling you in tightly. Her lips ghosted over your racing pulse in your throat, a gentle brush that could have been mistaken for an accident, before she pulled back. “Bye!” She chirped, her voice as bright as her welling eyes. “See you in a month!”

The next few weeks were a haze. A disorienting blur of the other roommates leaving, of rides to the airport and lonely trips to the grocery store. Of waking up in an empty bedroom, no sounds of soft sighs and sleepy, content breaths from the other side of the room. You settled into a routine: Wake up, make breakfast, bundle up in your warmest coat and a thick scarf to go for a walk, come home, flick through TV while you snacked, make dinner, go to bed. It was boring, yes, but the routine settled you, and when thoughts of Nancy, images of her wide eyes and wider grin, her sharp brows and strong jaw, her long fingers and dark curls, danced across your retinas, you could shake your head and refocus on the task at hand. There was no space for the lingering hurt in your heart with your routine, no space to bemoan the state of your life and loneliness as you sat on the couch on Christmas Eve.

The routine was familiar at this point, comforting in the way it surrounded you with people and distractions while you were entirely alone. The routine is why it was so alarming when the front door swung open, accompanied by the loud thumps of a heavy suitcase hitting the floor. The routine was the reason you looked up so slowly, why it took your brain so long to process the small woman in your doorway wearing a skirt and t-shirt, shivering aggressively as tears slid down her face. “N–Nancy?” You asked, feeling your eyebrows draw together in confusion. She opened her mouth, the only thing coming out of it a wail.

“Nancy,” you said, standing up suddenly. You rushed to the door, wrapping your arms around her slender, icy frame. “Nancy, what’s wrong? What–Why are you here? Where is your fucking jacket?” You asked, your head turning quickly to look at the frozen flurries frolicking past your window, snowflakes glinting in the light of the streetlamps. A watery laugh burst from the chest wrapped under your arms.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Nancy asked, tilting her head slightly to peer up at you from watery lashes. “I come home,” she sniffed, wiping her nose as you relinquished your grip on her, “crying,” she said, emphasizing the word, “and you’re worried about me not having a coat?” She laughed again, the sound broken and making your heart ache.

“It’s freezing outside, Nance. You–come on, you need to get wrapped up. Come sit on the couch.” You pushed her farther into the apartment, following behind to swaddle her in the blankets, still warm from your own body heat, that were piled on the couch. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to be in California with Jonathan until January.”

She sniffed, running a finger under her eyes. “We broke up,” she said, her voice catching on the words. The story burbled out of her in stops and starts, tears and shuddering gasps interrupting her words as she recounted the morning’s conversation, how Jonathan had sat her down at the breakfast table, how he had explained that he wasn’t sure he could give her the life she wanted, she deserved, he said, and how, eventually, it had come down to the simplest words possible: We just don’t love each other anymore.”

Her hands reached out, sliding over the blankets to wind her fingers in between the spaces of yours. “He was right,” Nancy said, her voice more even now as the tears stopped. “He was right, we just–we don’t love each other anymore. I don’t think we have for a while. But I just–I wasn’t expecting it, you know? I thought–” she shook her head, a trickle of laughter flowing from her lips. “I thought I would just get through the next four years, and then I would marry Jonathan, and we’d have a couple of kids, and we would be normal. I wanted to be normal.” Her eyes met yours, sending a shiver down your spine before she shifted her gaze to your interlocked fingers. “I don’t think I can be normal, though. I think–I think I want something else for myself now.” Nancy’s fingers tightened, a shot of adrenaline coursing through your veins at the touch.

When she leaned forward, pressing her wide lips to yours, it caught you off guard. You jolted backwards, breaking the first real kiss the two of you had ever had. “Nance,” you whispered. “I’m– I don’t think we should–”

“Please.”

“You just broke up–”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about him like that anymore. I haven’t since–since before we–please, I just want you to touch me.”

You bit back the words that had been pushing for space on your tongue, the denials and the rebuffs that were rational and responsible. “Say that again.”

“I want you to touch me. Please.” The last word was a whimper, soft and quiet like she was ashamed of it, but it melted whatever lingering resolve was buried in your chest. You moved quickly, bringing your mouth to Nancy’s again, pressing lips together as you tilted your head, pressing hers back so that your tongue was able to slip easily into the space between her lips. She gasped, quietly, against your mouth, and you felt your heart rattle in your chest, chaotic and longing to be closer to her.

“I’m going to fuck you,” you whispered, moving your mouth to press harsh, hot kisses into her chin, her jawline, her neck, her throat, “until you forget that asshole’s name. Understood?” The whimper that fell from Nancy’s lips was your only verbal response, but she nodded her head vigorously, her brown curls shifting out of place with the motion; the way her fingers tightened around your arms, her nails digging into your skin as her head tilted back, a moan falling from her mouth, confirmed it for you as well.

Your fingers flew to her waistline and were met by her hands; you pulled her skirt down as she pushed her shirt up (a trickle of annoyance in the back of your mind that Jonathan, fucking Jonathan who’s been an invisible presence between the two of you for so long, let her come back here in the dead of winter wearing a t-shirt and a skirt). Your fingers find bare skin, exposed paleness dappled with large freckles here and there. It’s the first time you’ve seen her like this–the last time you touched her, she was covered the entire time, keeping herself hidden away from your prying eyes like a sacred relic, like she knew that you were greedy and would take as much of her as you could and would never, never give up what you held in your hand at that moment.

You wrapped your fingers around her waist, pressing your hands into the lines of muscle and sinew that separated you from her bones. Overcome, you dipped your head, pressing your nose flat into the soft padding above her belly button. The weight of your face pushed Nancy back onto the arm of the couch, her legs sprawling open as you fit your body between them so you could continue to touch the parts of her that reclined backwards. You dragged your nose up, letting your skin burn a path across her stomach as your nose and chin pushed up, up, until your chin was resting on the very bottom line of her bra. You settled your face there, Nancy’s fingers winding through your hair as she gripped your scalp, and blinked at her, a slow smile turning your lips as you took in her disheveled hair, pink cheeks, panting breaths. “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi yourself,” she whispered back, a gentle smile settling over her face. She loosened her grip on your hair, and the long fingers brushed against your forehead. Nancy tilted her head, slightly, watching her own hands trace patterns over your skin. When her eyes drifted back to yours, you couldn’t help but see the warmness in them, the distant echo of a centuries old fireside that represented home. “Are you done? Or do I get more?” She asked, and you had to stop yourself from practically purring at the simplicity of her request, of the implication that she was just waiting this whole time for you to decide to give her more.

“Depends,” you said, smirking. “What’s your ex’s name?”

“Jonathan,” Nancy replied immediately, eyebrows pulling together.

“Must need more then,” you said, and turned your head abruptly to nip at the swell of the breast that threatened to spill out of the cup of her bra. Nancy’s sharp gasp was finished with a laugh, and your hands slipped under her torso to unclasp her bra, pulling the straps down her arms as you moved the material away from her skin. Her breasts fell free of the enclosure, the pink rosebuds already hard and drawn in the coolness of the air. You bite, playfully, at the curving line of her chest, soothing the small mark from your teeth with your tongue as Nancy whimpers. “Shh,” you whisper, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Your mouth moves, slowly and sloppily, to the hardened perk of her nipple, and you’re quick to take it in between your lips, sliding your tongue over it, around it, all but rolling it in your mouth. Nancy is gasping, little “yes”s bursting from her lips as your hands wander down from her sides, skimming over her narrow hips to clench the tops of her thighs that your body presses between. All she’s wearing underneath you is a pair of the satin panties you’ve spent the last semester watching her shimmy over her hips, wishing desperately to touch.

You lean back, letting your eyes wander over the expanse of her body as Nancy catches her breath. Her chest heaves under your eyes, her pulse throbbing in the column of her throat. “God,” you hear yourself whisper, voice rasping. “You are so fucking pretty for me, baby girl.” Nancy’s eyes widen, her lower lip wobbling as she takes in your words. Her arm extends, grabbing your wrist tightly as she pulls your fingers to her skin.

Nancy places the palm of your hand against her throat, your fingers instinctually wrapping around the slender column. You feel your eyes widen slightly, shocked by the unspoken request; her brows arc, right at the narrow ends, and you feel your face press into a grin. “Words,” you whisper, and Nancy’s eyes slip closed, a tiny smile playing at the curve of her full, swollen mouth.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please choke me. Please. I need you to–”

Her words end abruptly, a gentle sigh replacing her voice as your fingers tighten, pressing into the harsh pulse on the sides of her throat. Your other hand slips between her legs, finding the skin of her inner thighs slick with longing. “Oh, you’re such a good girl,” you whisper, and Nancy’s moan makes your stomach tighten, your core throb. Your fingers slide the soft fabric of her underwear to the side, pushing in between the folds to seek out her center.

“Wait,” Nancy huffs, and you loosen your fingers around her throat, eyes flashing to her face with concern. You look over her, eyes darting for signs of distress, for too-red cheeks or teary eyes. “I just–you already–please, just let me go down on you.” You lean back, feeling your eyebrows climb over your face as your lips part slightly. “Please. Mommy.” The words are stilted, falling from her mouth like bricks, but the light blush snaking over her cheeks tells you that Nancy knows, she knows what she wants, and she wants you.

You nod, the movement subtle. “Okay, baby girl. Whatever you want.” She preens under your words, her eyelashes fluttering as a soft smile highlights the apples in her cheeks. Nancy’s fingers are gentle, slow where yours were quick, as they grab the hem of your night shirt; she pulls it over your head carefully, eyes on yours until your skin is exposed. The cool air of the apartment hits you, causing goosebumps to rise on your soft form.

“You’re so…” Nancy’s voice trails off, quiet as her doe eyes roam over your skin. “Beautiful,” she says, the word hanging in the air between the two of you, glimmering with traces of months worth of pent-up longing. “You’re so beautiful.” Her eyes meet yours, a spark of electricity bouncing from her to tighten your heart in your chest. Nancy leaned forward, pressing her mouth to yours as you fell back against the worn couch. Her delicate hands guide you to lie down on your back, the top of your head pressing into the bottom of the arm of the couch. “Beautiful,” she whispers, pressing her mouth into your throat; “Beautiful,” she says again, her lips cloying at your collarbone; “Beautiful,” hushed, like a prayer, at the curve of your breast; “Beautiful,” louder now, spoken into the softness of your stomach; “Beautiful,” a moan, this time, as you slip your underwear down your legs, exposing your heat to her mouth.

Nancy is quick now, her lips pressing once to the skin above your already-damp folds. You feel her fingers spread you, her body tightening with anticipation in between your clenched thighs. A finger pushes against your opening, the muscles fluttering at the slight pressure. “Is this okay?” Nancy asks, and she pulls her eyes away from your body to gaze up at you. You nod, aware that any words from your lips would come out cracked, broken, as pathetic as you’ve felt dreaming of this moment for the last few months.

Nancy’s finger slides into your core, and a soft sigh falls from your lips. She’s gentle, caring with her hand already up to the palm inside of you. The finger curls, just slightly, as she pulls it back, and your eyelids flicker at the pressure against your walls. She pushes a second finger in, stretching you just slightly as she works her hand against you, forcing a small whine from your lips. “You’re okay?” She says, the end of the sentence rising like a question as her eyes meet yours again. You nod, your eyes already feeling hazy as you watch her watch you. “Can I…use my mouth?” The question is hesitant, tentative, shy.

“Don’t ask so many questions, Wheeler,” you mutter, cheeks burning as your voice shakes. A slow smile spreads over her face, and Nancy pulls her fingers from your warmth and dips her face to the space between your thighs. You can feel her tongue, flat and wide, licking a stripe between your lips; when it passes your gaping hole, you whimper and lift your hips, trying to grind into her face. Her tongue whisks over your clit, barely more than a fleeting brush, but it makes you gasp, the sound echoing through the empty apartment.

“Oh,” Nancy sighs, and her eyes are narrowed, quizzical as she looks at you again. “You want both? Want to be filled and licked?” You nod again, the desire to mock her endless questions dying on your tongue as her fingers slide back in, quickly now that she’s in familiar territory. Your head rolls back on the couch under you, and your eyelids slide closed. When her tongue returns to the swollen burst of nerves, you whimper–the sound is long, loud, ludacris when coupled with the sound of her fingers thrusting into your wetness. “Oh,” Nancy moans–really, truly, moans, into your dripping cunt, and the vibrations send shockwaves through your skin.

“Fuck,” you mutter, and your hands are suddenly wound in her hair, giving you something to hold on to as you rut your hips against her face. Her nose, her tiny, perfect nose, is pressing against your skin, her tongue lapping fast, wide strokes at your clit, and her fingers are starting to relax, to spread from each other and stretch where you’re tightest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, and Nancy’s fingers are faster, harder, while she lets you use her face for friction. “Oh, Nance–Nancy–Don’t–Please don’t–stop–” The words are coming out of your mouth in between hitched breaths, breaking in little gasps and cracks as you force them out, desperate to tell her that if she stops–if her tongue slows, if her fingers disappear, if any of it goes–you’re pretty sure you’ll die on the spot.

“Nance,” you mewl, the word falling from your full lips like a prayer, “Nance, I’m gonna–don’t stop, I’m gonna c–” It’s the last word you get out before your back arches, body tightening around her fingers, a sharpness in your spine curving in on itself until it’s unleashed, the arrow of your desire loosed from the bow of Nancy’s lips. The sound that drips from your mouth is high pitched, cradled on each end by gasps, and you swear you can feel Nancy grinning into your body as she continues, relentlessly fucking you through your freefall.

When you finish, she sits up and pulls her hand from you. You watch as Nancy sits back on her knees, slips her fingers into her mouth. Any thought you would have had at that moment–what does this mean, are we together now, are we going to talk about this, holy shit that was the best orgasm of my fucking life–dissapear from your head as you watch Nancy’s eyes close, an expression of bliss on her features as her mouth cleans you from her hand. She removes her fingers with a subtle pop, and you try to bring your gaze from her lips back to her eyes unsuccessfully. Your eyes are still on her lips, which is why you can’t miss when she says it.

“Jonathan.”

“What?” You ask, eyebrows jumping together in confusion and shock.

“Jonathan,” Nancy repeats, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “I still remember his name.”

You take a moment, letting your earlier conversation roll through your mind. A devilish smile turns up the corners of Nancy’s mouth as she watches you put the pieces together. “Right,” you say, sitting up with a grin on your own face, “Guess I’ll have to do something about that.”

#nancy wheeler smut #nancy wheeler stranger things #nancy wheeler fic #nancy wheeler/you #nancy wheeler/reader #nancy stranger things #nancy wheeler fanfiction #nancy wheeler x afab!reader #nancy wheeler/afab!reader #nancy wheeler x you #nancy wheeler x reader #sapphic nancy wheeler #queer nancy wheeler #wlw nancy wheeler #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fan fiction #my fic #maxanon

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greenhikingboots · 2 years ago

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heyo!! I'm not sure if you've already answered this because I don't have Tumblr and I keep getting blocked by the log in wall whenever I scroll too far. But why did you delete your old AO3 account and works? Where you getting bullied 😰 I know the jonsa ship and Sansa specifically is well hated...

Hey, anon. I haven't answered that before, so I'll give it a go now. I think it's neat that you're interested. I haven't had any issues with bullying apart from a few random comments on AO3 that were less about Jonsa and more about my writing choices. Whoops. I tagged that fic as a fix but still let Rickon die? My bad. I didn't realize I was supposed to anticipate the preferences of that one specific reader and not do that. *eye roll* That's just one example, but despite my snarkiness about it right now that kind of stuff doesn't actually bother me too much. It is what it is. So anyway. I deleted my old account more because I wasn't satisfied with my work, wasn't finding fulfillment in writing as a hobby anymore, realized I cared more than I wanted to about kudos and comments -- yeah, that kind of stuff. But mostly I felt a lot of self-inflected pressure to post updates quickly. And so my speed became too much a measure of my sense of self-worth. Lame. I took a break for a while, but I'm back to writing now with a healthier mindset. (Though, let's be honest, I still want those damn kudos!) If you don't already know, my new AO3 name is GreenHikingBoots. Since I write for both Jonsa and Dramione, I wanted a name that wasn't fandom specific. And I like the color green and I do a lot of hiking IRL. So there you go. Oh, I should probably clarify that everything I have published under that new name, apart from my current Jonsa WIP called Inevitable, was previously published on my old account (though edits have been made). Most of that is Dramione, though. Also, that isn't to say every old fic has been re-published. Two of my more popular works -- For Better Dreams (Jonsa) and Between the Lines (Dramione) -- are still in my Google Doc and will hopefully get re-published in the future. I'm working my way through shorter fic ideas first. For what it's worth, compared to how I used to do it, I now have firmer plot plans and more detailed first drafts before I start publishing. And I give more author's notes warning that updates may take a while. And those factors go a long way in helping me maintain this hobby in an enjoyable way. Basically, these days, I'm into slow and steady wins the race. Oh, come to think of it! Here's another thing I should have said sooner: major shout out to the Jonsa fanfic writers who take their sweet time publishing updates and the readers who are understanding of that. I didn't see that as much in the Dramione fandom, but I think seeing it here helped relieve a lot of my anxieties. I think that's about all I got on the topic. I'm not going to say TL;DR. But a summation? I'll try. Here goes: Fandom and fanfiction writing is supposed to be fun, not feel like work! I took some time away because I hadn't internalized that. I've since developed some better habits and saw some good examples of people who had internized the message, and that helped. Now I'm back and enjoying writing more than before. Yay! Thanks anon. This turned into a really rewarding thing to write about. Hope you don't mind me getting all philosophical. ;)

#ask northernlady #who is also greenhikingboots #and was dakotadelcour if you're a dramione fan #not an identity crisis #just like jonsa to much to stop using this tumblr #and start using my greenhikingboots one #which was the plan at one point

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jungshookz · 3 years ago

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teeny tidbits: jin's trying to teach y/n how to slice an apple properly and she's having none of it

➺ pairing; kim seokjin x reader

➺ genre; culinarystudent!seokjinniverse!! honk honk humour!! smerhaps smut!! y/n's a moron in the kitchen but jin likes to take care of her so it's okay!!

➺ wordcount; 1.4k

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

"what... are you doing?"

there are a lot of reasons as to why jin doesn't want you to wander off into his kitchen without his strict supervision

first of all, you're very messy: you leave paper towels everywhere, you place knives on the edge of the counter so that the handles are hanging off and just waiting to be knocked over, and there was that one time you spilled a whole pot of tomato sauce when the two of you were making homemade pizza together

second of all, you don't like to play by the rules (as seen by your ramen can be cooked in a coffee pot and bacon can be fried with an iron! mentality) — but when it comes to the kitchen, jin really, really needs you to play by the rules because you could end up hurting yourself somehow if you start goofing around!

and what you're doing right now is most definitely not playing by the rules, which is why he needs to step in and do something straight away before you lose a limb

"slicing up apples. duh." you jump when the knife slides off the smooth surface of the apple and you nearly catch the tip of your finger

whoops

you look up to frown at jin before jabbing the knife accusatorially in his direction, "see? you're distracting me!"

"you're using a butterknife to slice apples?" jin asks incredulously before shaking his head and hurrying over to you, "no, no- you are not using a butterknife to cut up anything in my kitchen-"

"what's wrong with using a butterknife??" you tsk, "it's a knife, it can slice into things- as long as it gets the job done, i don't care-"

"but i do!" jin interrupts, gently plucking the butterknife from your fist before placing it into the sink, "why can't you just eat an apple whole?"

"well, i wanna make apple sauce!" you gesture to the array of ingredients that you pulled out from jin's pantry (you tend to take advantage of all of the goodies he has whenever you come over because duh, why not?), "actually, it's not really apple sauce. i want to make apple pie filling and just eat it like apple sauce."

"oh my god, okay-" jin pulls a knife out of the wooden block with a swift shing! before placing it on the chopping board in front of you, "in that case, you're going to have to cut your apples up into decently sized chunks with a proper knife."

"fine, but you are making such a big deal out of this-"

jin's eyes widen in panic when you pick up the knife only to suddenly raise your arm and whack it down against the poor apple like some sort of a mallet

"well, how the tables have turned-" you raise the knife to show him the apple that's now stuck on the sharp blade, "your fancy chef's knife doesn't work."

"okay, it looks like i'm going to have to jump in here-" jin moves over so that he's standing behind you before wrapping his arms around you and placing his hands over yours, "let's put this poor apple out of its misery first-" he hums, guiding your hand over and helping you pull the apple off the blade

"i can do this myself, seokjin-"

"you absolutely cannot do this yourself, y/n-" jin snorts, leaning down to prop his chin upon your shoulder so he can get a better view of the chopping board, "do you want a chunky apple pie filling?"

"ooh, yeah!" you nod enthusiastically, jin immediately sliding his fingers in between yours to keep your hand from moving when you suddenly reach for the apple, "i want, like- i want the chunks to be in, like, cute little cubes-"

"okay, darling- no bouncing like that with a knife in your hand, please-"

"sorry." you immediately stop bouncing on the balls of your feet and you look down at the apple, "okay, chef. show me your ways."

"when it comes to cubing apples, i like to take the top and the bottom off first- and we'll use what's called a santoku knife to do that-" jin places your hand securely atop the apple that's now laying down on its side (while making sure your buttery fingers aren't in the way) before his other hand forces yours down in one swift movement, the top of the apple plopping down on the board

he spins the apple around to the other side and you slice the butt end off as well

(you don't want to toot your own horn or anything but you think you're doing a fantastic job so far)

"-and then we're going to use our paring knife to peel the skin..." jin murmurs, moving your hand and making you set the san...tofu(?) knife down, "hold on, this might work better if you place your hands over mine. that way, you'll know how your hand is supposed to move-"

"okay... so the paring knife..." you place your hands over jin's as he picks up the smaller knife and you watch as he digs the tip around the stem before curling his wrist

"there's still a bit of the stem here and you wanna get rid of it since you obviously won't be eating that..."

unsurprisingly, it doesn't take you very long to lose focus on the apple, your eyes now wandering to your boyfriend's very pretty hands

you could spend hours just looking at them

one of the reasons why you like spending time in the kitchen with jin is not only because he lets you taste-test most of the yummy things he makes but also because you get a chance to watch his hands move... from the way his knuckles tighten when he grips around the handle of a knife... to the way his fingers delicately pluck at the ingredients...

you suck your bottom lip in between your teeth as you trail a finger along the prominent veins at the top of his hands and you're suddenly very aware of the fact that jin's basically got you pressed right up against the kitchen counter

"-and then you're going to go around the apple carefully while keeping your thumb right under for more control..."

jin's voice starts to fade out in the background as the little voice in the back of your head reminds you of what else jin's hands could be doing right now instead of peeling an apple

...

"and now you-" jin pauses when you suddenly pull your hands off of his before twisting around, your arms now hanging loosely around his neck as you lean up to press a warm kiss against his jaw, "you... have successfully peeled an apple."

he immediately bites back a knowing grin as he sets the paring knife down, and he's about to ask you what you think you're doing when he decides that acting as though he has no idea what you're doing might be a better idea

"-eating the core is unpleasant, so we're going to cut around the core instead of slicing the apple directly in half," jin swallows thickly when your hands slide down to pull his hips towards yours, his cheeks flushing slightly when he feels himself twitch in his sweatpants, "the- the key here is a good, sharp knife-"

he really thought he had the upper hand here but his body is betraying him!

"seokjin..."

jin mouths a silent 'oh, god' to himself at the sound of the pitiful little whine slipping past your lips

he loves it when you get needy like this

"i'm- i'm trying to teach you a lesson here, sweetheart-" he clears his throat as he stares down at the apple, suddenly blanking on what his next step should be

how the hell did he forget how to properly slice up an apple?!

"-and i'm trying to tell you that i prefer doing my learning in the bedroom."

...

you hear jin set the knife down with a clatter and it's only a second later that you feel your feet leaving the ground

you can't help but let out a squeal of delight as jin bounces you slightly to adjust your legs around his waist

"you're a real handful, you know that?" jin teases, squeezing under your thighs before letting out a laugh, "god, you drive me crazy-"

"i know-" you manage to swoop your arm down to grab the naked apple before jin starts walking and you bring it up to your mouth to take a bite, "you luhv it, fho-"

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles! mini series!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this one!)

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yourlocalfictionalenthusiast · 3 years ago

Text

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART EIGHT

:Masterlist:

Warnings: just swearing, I think :)

A/N: oof I’m bad at posting on time but here’s part eight! thank you all for your feedback on the last part and feel free to let me know what you think about this part too <3

October 1994

“Ow.”

You groaned as you collapsed in the middle seat of the back of Bobby’s car, so tired that you practically fell asleep the second you got off your feet. It was your second weekend in a row of playing all day shows, and every part of your body was screaming at you in exhaustion.

“Remind me why we’re happy about this gig again?” Alex grumbled from the passenger seat, stretching out his no-doubt sore fingers.

Next to you, Reggie had slumped in his seat. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Even Luke, who was usually still full of adrenaline after a performance, looked a little deflated as he secured his guitar into the trunk and piled into the car. As soon as he sat down in his usual seat on your left, he dropped his entire weight on you, making you fall into Reggie.

“You okay there, Lu?” You asked as you sat as up-right as you could with him still leaning on your shoulder. He muttered sleepily in response and you laughed. “Guys, I think Luke’s dead.”

“I don’t blame him. I’m pretty sure that’s the hardest we’ve ever played.” Bobby sighed as he pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive in the direction of Reggie’s house to drop him off. You relaxed into your seat, watching the lights fly by the window. You all sat in comfortable silence until Bobby pulled up to a red light and turned around to look at all of you. “Votes for just crashing at the garage?”

You agreed immediately since the studio was a lot closer than any of your houses, and having Bobby drive when he was tired probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

“I could definitely go for not going home.” Alex said and you smiled at him sympathetically. Reggie agreed and turned to ask Luke, but all he got was the sound of quiet snoring in response. You all laughed as Bobby turned around and started driving to his house.

The quiet rumble of the car on the road and the warmth of Luke’s skin against yours was making you more and more tired by the second. You leaned over and rested your head on top of his and closed your eyes.

The drive to the garage was shorter than you thought, but by the time you got there, you were practically ready to pass out.

It took all your energy to gently coax Luke out of your shoulder and hop out of the car to help Bobby unload the equipment out of the trunk and back into the loft. While you were up there, you grabbed a pile of sleeping bags and blankets to give to the boys who were now arguing over what to watch.

They settled on The Empire Strikes Back, per Reggie’s request. You watched it absentmindedly from your spot on the couch, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets. The more time went by, the more your tiredness faded away, leaving you restless and frustrated. When the movie reached the halfway point, you had officially given up on sleeping.

You didn’t realize that you were sighing until Luke, who was laying on the floor under your head, opened his eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You muttered.

“It’s okay, I can’t sleep either.” Luke said. “Not when Alex snores like a bear.”

You laughed, looking over to Alex who was sleeping deeply across the room, his snore blocking out the sound of the movie. “Yeah, thank god he’s the only one that does that.”

“Are you trying to say that I snore?” Luke gasped, squinting when you laughed and nodded your head at him. After a minute of silence, Luke looked up at you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.” You said.

“Why didn’t you want to go home?” He asked. “Everything okay with your mom?”

“Yeah, she’s just been working a lot lately and it feels weird being home alone.” You said. “What about your mom?”

Luke was quiet for a minute, so quiet that you almost thought that he fell asleep until he let out a deep sigh. He had told you that things were getting rockier between him and his parents everyday but you could tell by the grimace on his face that something more was going on. “She threatened to make me quit the band.”

“Wait, what?” You said a little too loudly.

“I got an F on a test and she flipped out.” Luke explained. “But if I pass the next one, hopefully she’ll stay off me for a while.”

“I’m surprised that she even let you stay here tonight.” You said.

“Yeah, about that.” Luke cringed. “I didn’t exactly ask her.”

You sighed and shook your head. “You know she’s gonna kill you when you go home tomorrow, right?”

He rolled his eyes but then quickly switched to his puppy-dog look. “Come with me?”

“What? No, I’m not gonna be your accomplice.”

“Please?” Luke begged. “She loves you, and there’s no way she’d kill me if you were there.”

You sighed, cursing yourself for not being able to resist his stupid face. “Fine, but you owe me.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Luke beamed.

You reached your arm from the couch and pushed his face lightly. “Go to sleep, weirdo.”

2020

Being dead was boring.

You had poured over your songbook a dozen times, walked laps around the studio, and absentmindedly threw darts against the wall.

Normally, you would drag Alex out into the city or make Reggie sing country songs with you, but everyone was off getting ready for the gig tonight.

So with nothing better to do, you decided to visit Julie at school. You closed your eyes and poofed into the crowded hallway. You spotted Julie putting books into her locker and you phased right next to her.

“Hi.” You greeted and Julie jumped, letting out a quiet squeal.

“(Y/n)! Normal people don’t do that and ghosts definitely shouldn’t. “What are you doing here?” She asked, smiling awkwardly at people who were giving her weird looks as they passed down the hall.

“Well, I think we should decide what song we’re going with tonight.” You said and Julie tilted her head at you and squinted, knowing that you weren’t telling the whole truth. “Okay, and I was also really bored at the studio.”

“So I’m your entertainment?” She questioned as she dug her phone out of her pocket and raised it to her ear so it didn't look like she was talking to herself.

“Yep, you’re stuck with me.” You smiled sweetly.

“Who knew ghosts were so clingy?” She joked, struggling to hold back a smile when you pouted back at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be hanging out with that mysterious guy from the café last night? Teddy?”

“I figured I’d be too busy getting ready for the gig so I just swung by and told him to come to the show.” You explained, making Julie raise her eyebrows. “What?”

“Nothing.” She clicked her tongue. "I’m sure Luke is gonna love that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well, Luke doesn’t get to have an opinion.”

“I don’t get to have an opinion on what?” A voice asked from behind you and you whirled around to find Luke leaning against the lockers with a smile. You had been so distracted talking to Julie that you didn’t even hear him phase in behind you.

“The fact that we’re doing ‘Edge of Great’ tonight.” You said quickly, desperately hoping that he bought your lie. Thankfully, he seemed to believe you.

“Sweet. That’s what I was thinking anyway.” He turned to Julie. “Hey, why not ditch school today? Let’s go rehearse!”

“What? No, I can’t. I promised my dad that school comes first. Plus, I have the dance with Nick today.” She reasoned and you smirked, thinking back at the way that he was staring at her at the dance.

“Ooh, Nick.” You teased and Julie glared at you. After a brief second, her eyes widened. You turned to see Nick walking towards her and you quickly grabbed Luke’s wrist and dragged him to the side so they could talk. "Speak of the devil."

“Hey, Julie!” Nick smiled warmly. “Ready for our performance?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna do great.” Julie shoved her phone into her bag, clearly trying not to look over at you and Luke who were watching with rapt attention.

“I’m glad you’re confident. I think that after three classes, I just got worse. But good thing I have my secret weapon.” Nick nervously shoved his hands in his pockets and you couldn’t help but smile at Nick’s way of awkwardly flirting.

Next to you, Luke whooped. “Oh, I think someone’s got a little crush on our Julie.”

You cringed a little as you looked over at him, expecting to see jealousy on his face. But if anything, he looked the exact opposite. Amused and eager to tease Julie about it, the same way he did back when Reggie tried to hit on girls after a gig. He caught you looking at him and softly smiled, a dramatic shift from the teasing smirk he had on a second ago.

“Shut up,” Julie said to Luke, cringing when Nick frowned at her. “I mean, shut up.”

“No, seriously, Molina. I’m nothing without you.” He said. You walked behind Nick, peering over his shoulder to make kissy faces at her which made Luke laugh.

"I'm sure you'll be great." She pushed his shoulder, making you jump back a little. “See you in there?"

“Yeah, I’ll be the guy trying not to make us look stupid.” You watched him walk away before turning to Julie.

"Julie, he totally likes you!" You laughed excitedly.

"Boundaries." She reminded you, but there was a smile on her face. You and Luke both raised your hands in surrender and she waved over her shoulder as she walked away. "I'll see you guys after school, okay?"

Once she was gone, Luke shook his head dramatically. "They grow up so fast."

You snorted. "C'mon, dork. Let's go rehearse."

After getting back to the studio, you immediately snapped into pre-gig mode.

You collapsed on the floor near the couch, sticking your legs up against the armrest next to Reggie as you all listened to Luke go over the song, he ran his pencil along the paper. "So we add the echoes and then the girls come in with the melody.”

You nodded. “Julie gets home in like an hour and then we can start rehearsing.”

Suddenly, there was a loud thud on the garage door and you spun around just in time to see Willie’s head disappear. You frowned and looked over at Alex for an explanation but he just shook his head.

“Again? What’s that about?” Reggie asked but Alex had already poofed out to chase the other boy. You frowned as you stared at the space where he was just sitting, thinking about how happy he was about Willie not even two days ago.

Just as quickly as he left, Alex came phasing back in with a hurt look on his face. You immediately sat up to question him but he just strolled over to his drums and suggested starting practice.

You all agreed reluctantly and got into place. Luke counted down and started to play, stopping almost immediately as Alex started going off course, slamming on his drums a little harder than necessary.

“Al, you okay?” You asked gently as he set down his drumsticks.

“Yeah, why?”

“I know it’s tough, man. They say you never forget your first ghost.” Reggie tried to reassure him. “But I’m sure there will be others.”

“Yeah, and you’re a great drummer and an even greater guy.” You added. “Don’t let all this get in the way of your music.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes a little fire can make things better on stage.” Reggie said, pointing between you and Luke. “Like you guys.”

You were thankful that Luke was behind you and couldn’t see the look on your face. You glared at Reggie but he just smirked back at you, and you made a mental note to kick his ass later.

“What’s your point, Reg?” Playing dumb probably wasn’t your best move, but you could you really didn’t want to make things awkward with Luke again.

“I’m just saying when you play your little on-stage game,” Reggie said. “You guys ooze chemistry.”

“You should never say ‘ooze’ again, but yeah, I agree.” Alex piped up from behind his drums, giving you a shit-eating grin. Great, now you had two asses to kick.

You looked back at Luke to find him already staring at you as he rubbed the back of his neck. You shared a bashful smile before looking everywhere but each other.

“Yeah, but I have chemistry with everyone I sing with.” Luke reasoned, sounding a little panicked. “Watch.”

He walked over to Reggie and sang directly in his face, making you and Alex struggle not to laugh.

“I see chemistry.” Alex joked.

“That was pretty hot.” Reggie admitted as Luke kissed his fingers and pressed them against Reggie’s lips, making him sputter awkwardly. “Girls, am I right?”

Luke laughed as he walked back over to his spot and tugged his guitar strap over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“No.” Alex said with a smile, making you burst out laughing.

Hours later, you stood on your tip-toes, peering out at the crowd that had grown enough to fill the entire driveway.

As they all waited for the show to start, you reached down and felt the outline of your parent’s photo shoved in your pocket. You patted it for good luck, the way you always did before a performance.

Julie stood in front of the garage doors as they were pulled open. There was a wave of applause and Julie settled behind her mic, greeting everyone before starting her solo. Her voice rang out clear over the soft piano, and everyone watched intently, waiting for the rest of you to appear. On top of the balcony, the fake projector clicked on and you took your cue, smiling at the crowd as your voice joined Julie’s.

Just like every time you made your entrance, everyone gasped in surprise and cheered.

You did your best to pose as you sang and danced around, trying to get everyone hyped up. A few people held up their cameras and took pictures, one girl holding her phone so close to your face that you were a little worried that it would go through your head.

Out of the corner of your eye, there was a sudden bright light. For a second, you thought it was just another person taking a picture with their flash, but then you looked over to see Teddy leaning against the wall. He waved a little and you gave him a small smile before going back to the song.

Just as Luke’s verse started, he followed your eyes and saw Teddy, his usual charming smile faltering for a second before locking eyes with you.

Then it was time for your verse with Julie, so you turned away from Luke and strolled towards the piano, watching as Julie crawled on top of it. You followed her lead and sat on the edge, facing the audience and launching into the lyrics.

You could hear Teddy cheering loudly to your right, catching the attention of the whole band, but mostly Luke. As the music softened, Luke suddenly abandoned his spot behind his microphone and was now slowly walking towards you.

He started playing a solo that definitely wasn't planned and almost drowned out the sound of both your and Julie’s voices. When you turned around, you found that he was only a few feet away.

Luke put on his flirty, on-stage face as he slowly inched forward until he was right in front of you. But there was another layer under it. Something sharper and completely unfamiliar. You must’ve seen a hundred different expressions on Luke's face but he had never looked at you like that before.

You tried to look over Julie, who was looking at the two of you with a smirk, but Luke seemed determined to keep your attention. You were extremely grateful that you couldn't blush because you would've been bright red.

The bubble was broken as the chorus started up again and Luke smirked at you one last time before walking back to his microphone. The crowd roared and you took a breath, mentally cursing him and his stupid face for distracting you.

The soft piano came back in and the boys phased away as you and Julie finished the song. You bowed and disappeared, poofing back into the garage.

It was just after dark when the last of the crowd went home.

Julie stayed around for a while but she eventually went inside too, leaving the four of you alone in the cold night air.

You sat on the concrete of the driveway, your songbook propped up on your knee as you watched the boys play basketball. You cheered them on and absentmindedly scribbled doodles on the corners of pages of your old songs.

There was a sharp pop in the air and you looked up to see Teddy standing at the end of the driveway, his hands in his pockets as he walked closer.

You had been so caught up in Luke during the performance and then celebrating with the band afterward that by the time you went to look for Teddy, he had disappeared. You quickly got up and brushed off your legs before running to meet him.

“Hey! There you are, you kinda disappeared.” You said and Teddy cleared his throat.

“Yeah, sorry. Uh, can we walk somewhere? We really need to talk.” Teddy said and you cringed when you realized that it suddenly went completely quiet behind you.

You looked back at your friends who were all watching you with different expressions. Reggie looked almost nervous as he fidgeted with the basketball in his hands. Next to him, Alex stared Teddy down with his trademark intense glare and Luke just stood there with his arms crossed as he stared into the street behind you.

“Yeah, okay.” You said quickly, hoping to avoid any more awkwardness. You went to lead Teddy away when suddenly the boys stumbled back, groaning painfully as they were hit with another shock. “Shit!"

Without fully meaning to, you ran to Luke first, quickly inspecting him and watching him carefully as he winced in pain. You glanced over to Reggie and Alex to make sure they were okay before turning back to Luke.

“It’s getting worse.” Luke told you as he rubbed his chest.

“Why is this happening to us?” Reggie asked.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the air. "It’s because you guys are in serious trouble.”

You whipped around to see Willie nervously wringing his hands as he stepped into the light.

Alex took a step closer to him, looking dazed like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Willie?”

“Like I said,” Teddy said suddenly, making everyone look at him. “We need to talk.”

Even though you weren’t supposed to be able to get cold anymore, a chill overtook your whole body as you walked down the street.

You could hear everyone talking in front of you but your brain had shut off after Willie explained the basics the first time. Not only was he secretly working for an evil club owner, but Teddy, who you thought was your friend, was teaming up with him in order to steal your soul and make you and your best friends play in a house band for all eternity.

Your brain was so full that you felt like any more information would make you short-circuit.

“So, all these shocks are because of the stamps that Caleb put on us?” Luke asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“He’s threatened by you,” Willie explained as he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and whipped around. “You’re the only ghosts that lifers can see without his help.”

Alex, who had been just as quiet as you this whole time suddenly spoke up. “And you let him do this to us?”

“I can’t stop him.” Willie tried to defend himself. “He owns my soul!”

“He owns half of Hollywood’s souls.” Teddy butted in. “It’s kind of his thing.”

Willie took a deep, unsteady breath. “If he even knew we were here talking to you…”

He didn’t finish, but from the pained look on his face, you could tell that he couldn’t have been going anywhere good with that sentence.

Next to you, Reggie crossed his arms. “So if we don’t join his club, this power outage keeps going on until there’s no power left?”

Willie nodded and Reggie scoffed. “And what exactly happens when the power goes out?”

Teddy cleared his throat. “You disappear forever. No crossing over, you just...stop existing.”

“So we have no choice?” Luke snapped as he glared at Teddy. “We have to leave our friend, our band, behind to work for Caleb forever?”

“There is another option.” Teddy said. “If you could figure out your unfinished business, you could cross over in time and be free from all of it.”

“Okay, so what’s our unfinished business?” Luke asked.

“I don’t know.” Teddy gestured to all of you. “But since you all died at the same time, it’s probably something you have to do together.”

“Why should we listen to anything either of you has to say?” Alex said as he glared at both Teddy and Willie. He sounded so betrayed that it made your stomach turn.

“Because I care about you, Alex.” Willie pleaded. “I hate that it’s my fault that you and your friends are in this mess.”

It was quiet for a minute before he looked around anxiously. “I can’t be gone any longer. I’m sorry.”

With that, he disappeared.

“Don’t be too hard on Willie,” Teddy said once he was gone. “He wanted out of the plan the minute Caleb told us everything.”

“And what about you?” You asked, trying to contain your anger and Teddy sighed.

“(Y/n), I know that being your friend started out as a lie,” He pleaded. “But it’s not anymore.”

“You really expect me to believe that?” You scoffed.

“Look, I know you don’t know me, but I know you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I know how much Cece cared about you, and I know that this isn’t what she would’ve wanted.”

As if everything wasn’t enough, being reminded of Cece made you feel even worse. Teddy was your last connection to her and now you couldn't even stand to be near him. “I think you should go.”

“(Y/n), please-” Teddy tried to take a step closer to you but Alex fixed him with a look so intense that he backed up almost immediately. With a sigh, he phased away, leaving the four of you out on the street alone.

“This is all my fault.” Alex said, his voice breaking a little. “I met Willie, and he introduced us to Caleb.”

“Alex, no.” You shook your head. “This isn’t anyone’s fault.”

“We have to tell Julie.” Reggie said, washing a new wave of sadness over all of you.

“We can’t.” You said. “She’s lost too much already.”

“If we don’t want Caleb to own our souls, we need to figure out our unfinished business.” Luke started walking further down the street.

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Alex asked as you all followed him. “There was so much that we wanted to do.”

Luke suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, his eyes trailing up to the buildings. “The night we died, there was one thing we wanted to do together.”

You followed his eyes to see the Orpheum’s sign casting a blue glow on the street. “Play the Orpheum?”

“Getting that gig was impossible,” Alex said. “We had to call in favors and impress who knows how many club owners. It took us years.”

Just as the last word got out, they were hit with another shock. You cringed in sympathy and rested your hand on Alex’s arm.

“We don’t have years.” Luke said through a groan as he clutched his chest.

Everyone went their separate ways once you made it back to the garage.

Reggie went up to the house, and Alex barely sat still for five minutes before he left to go on a walk, leaving just you and Luke.

You sat on the rungs of the loft's ladder, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to process everything that's happened. Getting so close to living out your dream only to die and become a ghost, finding out that people could still hear you play, Bobby betraying all of you, meeting Julie and Teddy. It all felt so unreal.

There is no way you’d believe any of it if someone told you all this would happen back when you were alive.

Suddenly, Luke appeared at the base of the ladder, frowning up at you. "Uh-oh. You’re perched up there again.”

“What?” You questioned.

“In your thinking spot.” Luke laughed. “Why do you think we all called you ‘Batman’ in seventh grade?”

"How could I not be thinking right now, Lu?" You said as you carefully slid down to the floor, and Luke backed up slightly to give you space. “I mean, we just found out that we have to play an impossible gig and cross over or you guys will-”

The words died in your throat. You couldn’t even bring yourself to talk about possibly losing any of them. Just thinking about it opened a black hole in your chest.

But there was something else on your mind too. Even though you told Alex that it wasn’t anyone’s fault, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about trusting Teddy. But for Cece’s sake, you wanted to believe that he was actually your friend.

You wanted to tell Luke everything you were thinking, or at least try to explain why you didn’t take his advice. But of course, Luke already knew what was going on inside your head.

“None of this is your fault, Squeaks.” He reassured. Your lips quirked up slightly at the nickname. You almost couldn’t remember the last time he called you that and hearing it again immediately made you feel warm. "Besides, your unique ability to blindly trust people is one of my favorite things about you."

You snorted and Luke fought a laugh before continuing. “Well, that and your snort.”

“If you’re gonna be mean to me, I’m going back up to my perch.” You jokingly turned towards the ladder but Luke was quick to grab your hand, turning your back around and pulling you closer to him.

You looked up at Luke as his fingers intertwined with yours. You had held hands with Luke countless times, and you hated the fact that it affected you as much as it always did. It was normally just a way of comforting each other. But after the way he acted during the gig, you couldn’t help but wonder if…

“Hey,” Luke said. “We’re gonna figure everything out.”

“How do you know?”

Luke gave you a smile as he pulled you even closer and wrapped his arms around you. “When have I ever been wrong?”

You laughed and Luke squeezed your hand playfully in response. Your head was still spinning with everything that happened tonight, but the guilt had lessened a little as you tucked your head into his shoulder.

You don't know how long you stayed like that. It felt like hours and seconds all at the same time, but when you finally did pull away, you found yourself frozen in place. Your arms still locked each other, your face now just inches away from his.

“(Y/n), I…” Luke started, his voice uncertain as his eyes drifted down to your lips.

Holy shit.

You blinked up at him, actively trying not to freak out while you waited for whatever his next move was going to be. Were you hallucinating or was Luke about to kiss you?

Just as he went to speak again, there was a bright flash and Alex poofed in just a few feet away. As soon as he saw your and Luke’s position, his jaw dropped and he mumbled nonsense for a few seconds before clearing his throat.

“Hey.” He said, sending you an apologetic look as you and Luke separated so fast that it made you dizzy. “(Y/n), can I talk to you for a second?”

You slowly nodded and smiled awkwardly at Luke before grabbing Alex’s arm and dragging both of you out of the studio. All your thoughts from earlier disappeared and were replaced with one simple question:

What the hell just happened?

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown @charliegillespiewife @merceret @itismeasmolpotato @lilostif16 @dangerouslyclose @iainttakingshitfromnobody @givemebooksorgivemedeath @sunsetcurvedotmp3 @askgeoff @mayleenicole5676 @puppy11148 @vampire7595 @wackyworrieruniverse @reallysparklychaos @lovelydaydreams15

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13 @sunsetcurvej

Let me know if you want to be added!

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #Alex Mercer #Reggie Peters #julie molina #jatp fanfic #jatp

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whatifxwereyou · 4 years ago

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The Oncoming Storm Part 2: Fire

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: You wake up somewhere strange *again*. This time your underground and greeted by Liu Kang. For some reason you trust him, but why?

A/N: Have I mentioned I’m a huge fan of the slow burn? Whoops. I’ll let you guys know when the paths are branching between Lao/Liu. Thanks for reading and hope you keep enjoying! Also, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

<< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

Warm flames flickered off brown-gray stone walls. Other than the burning flame to your right, the room was small and dark. There was no door and you could hear movement somewhere beyond its opening. I’m underground, you thought. The air smelled musty and it was so dry that your nose burned. Underground and maybe in the desert. You closed your eyes again quickly.

In your mind’s eye you pictured the small purple flower Kung Lao had given you in your youth. Frail and rare. Many flowers had grown in your hometown but purple had been a new and exotic color. You’d always been fond of it afterward. You’d never gotten the chance to tell Kung Lao that. For a time you had kept it pressed between the pages of your favorite book as a memorial to the boy who had been your best friend. You hadn’t thought about the flower in years. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about him.

The details of what happened were fuzzy. You remembered the fight in your shop and remembered waking up to the face of Kung Lao. It was still insane to think that the boy you’d thought dead was, in fact, alive and in good health. It was even crazier to think that he’d been the one to save you from the fire in your shop.

You shook away the memory lest it return you to the darkness of unconsciousness.

You were, again, in an unfamiliar bed but things were vastly different. You’d been cared for and changed into a modest dressing gown, judging by the soft but coarse material. This had likely been done by a health professional. You were certain that Kung Lao must have brought you somewhere to be helped. Then again, most hospitals you knew of weren’t underground and they certainly didn’t use these types of gowns. It wasn’t a hospital gown, more like the type of gown that would have been worn for bed in ages past. Long and thin, but warm. You pictured it off-white. The one you wore had no sleeves, most likely for ease of access since you’d been injured.

You had to decide if you should panic or not. If you looked around and saw a medical professional or Kung Lao then you would remain calm. If you didn’t then panic seemed the way to go. Opening your eyes again, you were relieved that the world didn’t spin and you weren’t nauseous. But there was no doctor and definitely no Kung Lao.

There was a different man in his place, unfamiliar, shorter in stature, his gaze focused on something other than you. He was dressed mostly in black, no sleeves (which seemed the fashion of this underground wherever), and a red sash tied around his middle. His demeanor was calm and quiet and in his left hand he clutched a string of prayer beads. His skin was dusted with soot or grease, you couldn’t tell. He looked as though he had been handling charcoal for hours. He was also surprisingly muscular.

And handsome. You wouldn’t deny that you’d admired him. His brow was knit with concern and as you shifted, he turned toward you. Brown eyes met yours with genuine concern and he held a hand up defensively. “Take it slow.” His voice was soothing but this was all too familiar.

A strange bed and a stranger next to it after having fallen unconscious. He was telling you how what to do and how to feel. Again. Not a chance! On the small table next to the head of the bed there was a bowl half-filled with water and some medical tools. The tool closest to you was a hook used for stitching up wounds. It wasn’t the best weapon but it was all you could reach. You sat upright quickly, snatched the hook, and moved far enough away from the stranger that you had room to breathe and could better gauge his intent and reactions.

But you had moved too quickly and suddenly there were ten of him as the room spun. You thought you might puke if he got any closer. That would get him away from you, probably better than the needle would. Much to your surprise, he laughed with the subtlest of smiles. The smile radiated more from his eyes amidst his worry than it did outwardly. “You’re surprisingly fast for someone who has been in and out of consciousness for over a week.”

“A… a week?” You stuttered and forced your vision to focus on the blurry version of him smiling in the middle. Thankfully, your brain obeyed and the room stopped spinning. He didn’t seem to pose you any threat. You could tell just by his smile. A smile that made him all the more handsome. The time that had passed was not important so you didn’t wait for an answer to your initial question. “Who are you? Where am I? And where is Kung Lao?” Those three things were at the top of your list now that you were thinking clearly. There were a hundred other questions you had about Mortal Kombat, the dragon mark on your back, and other realms but you figured those could come later. Dealing with the here and now; that was the right way to do it.

“I am Liu Kang.” He bowed his head, holding up his prayer beads as he did. “You are in Raiden’s Temple where the Order of Light gathers to protect Earthrealm. Kung Lao is off on an errand at Lord Raiden’s behest. I assure you that he did not wish to leave you but had little other choice.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, you leaned against the cool stone behind you. Answers, finally. “I’m Y/N. Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Kung Lao mentioned you would likely be defensive.” Liu Kang gestured to the bowl on the nightstand. “I have been caring for your wounds. I do not usually tend to the sick but I promised my cousin that I would see you were cared for.”

“Cousin?”

“Kung Lao. He is my brother. Not by blood but by bond.”

That was a relief. At least this complete stranger had a connection to the other near complete stranger that you’d met the last time you’d woken up in a strange place. Wait… hadn’t you gone blind? Setting the hook back down on the side table, you patted your face in search of a mark or wound that would have caused that. There was none. Liu Kang’s eyes were sparkling in amusement.

“The last thing I remember is losing my vision.” You explained.

“Yes, about that.” Liu Kang moved the hook back to its original place. “The men who attacked your shop were vicious and cruel warriors. They were gifted but squandered their gifts to satiate their greed, a thing that can never be sated. You did the world a favor by stopping them. However, the blades that wounded you were coated in a rare poison. It is lucky that Kung Lao found you and could bring you to us for treatment. The blindness was a temporary side effect of the poison.”

“Poison?” This was wild. That morning you’d been stocking your shop and had taught a class of ten-year-olds. Now you’d been attacked, killed a few men, and had been poisoned. Wild. You supposed, in reality, it had been over a week ago and not that morning. Whatever. You decided to take the blows as they came. Deal with the problems and insanity as it happened. It was the only way to keep a clear head.

“It took many days and much prayer but we bled the poison from your wounds. Now they should begin to heal.”

“I’m still stuck on the poison part of this story. Really? Who does that?”

“You must be very resilient, Miss Y/N. Even the mightiest of warriors poisoned so terribly would submit to death. You are a fighter.”

“Thanks… I think.”

Liu Kang bowed his head again respectfully. He was easy to talk to, you weren’t sure why. You’d been careful around Kung Lao but you found yourself immediately not careful around Liu Kang. There was an instant connection to him.

“I was ill as a child. It made me more resilient to sickness, perhaps.” You had been ill but it had been the kind of illness that parents sent their children away for, the kind where they couldn’t explain how their child saw or did things beyond their understanding. It had made you terribly sick and weak. Why were you telling him this? It’d slipped out of your mouth without permission from your lips.

“I have not met many who would credit childhood illness for their resilience.”

“Perhaps I’m more stubborn than most. I’ve been told I have thick skin. The kids would tease me for being different. I was told that I would never be strong. I would never catch up. Never be normal. I didn’t like that word, not even as a kid.”

“Which one?”

“Never.”

That subtle smile again. Damn, it was attractive.

“I’m sorry.” You laughed with an apologetic bow of your own. Your head spun and you mentally cursed your politeness. “I didn’t mean to say all that. It just slipped out.”

“It’s no problem. I would like you to continue your story if you would.”

“Only if you’re certain.”

“I assure you that I’m not merely being polite.” There was something genuine about his words, as if he considered them carefully before he spoke. Perhaps Kung Lao had warned him about you. Or perhaps he was just careful. Your first instinct had been to jump at them both. It was their every right to be defensive but you couldn’t be blamed either. “How did you overcome your illness?”

“I fought. I worked harder than most did just to be on the same level as everyone else. I grew out of my sickness with age and thanks to my hard work I became stronger than most. After that I dedicated my life to teaching others to become strong, to be more than the ‘never’ we’re told we’ll be.”

“Admirable.” Liu Kang seemed as relieved as you had been upon discovering he was not there to hurt you. Maybe he’d been worried about your intent too. “It is nice to have another worthy of their marking.”

“The dragon mark?”

“Yes.”

“About that…”

“Do you know why you are here?”

“Kung Lao said something about being chosen because of the mark but I’m guessing that the mark only came to me because I killed those men. Am I right? It had to belong to one of them. It’s less like I was chosen and more like… I stole it.”

“Yes. Did Kung Lao tell you? He said you wouldn’t understand.”

“I assume that he would have told me but then I went blind. As you can imagine, I no longer cared much about the mark after that.” You laughed and so did Liu Kang. His laugh was quiet and genuine. It made you smile far more than should have been allowed. His joy was as comforting as the flickering light of the candle on the side table. “I didn’t have the mark that morning. I can only assume that was when I got it. Weirder things have happened so it was as good a guess as any.”

“Your intuition is remarkable.”

“What happens next?”

“For now you heal.” Liu Kang gestured to your arms. The gauze wrapped around your forearms was stained with blood even though the dressings looked fresh. You didn’t feel any pain. Either you’d been given good drugs to deal or adrenaline was protecting you. “You are in no condition to begin training. Lord Raiden has been told about you. I am keeping him informed on your condition.”

“So, you’re my babysitter.”

“I prefer caretaker. But yes.”

“If it’s been a week and I’m still bleeding like this then I have a feeling it could take awhile to heal. Can I learn more in the meantime? About any of this? I don’t want to just sleep and sit around doing nothing. I don’t know anything about this place and I know very little about the Order of Light. And I definitely don’t know anything about this mark or Mortal Kombat.” Liu Kang seemed surprised, but pleasantly so, as if this were something he’d greatly desired to hear.

“You really want to learn more?” He smiled brightly. You nodded. “The masters have trained me for years in matters of Mortal Kombat and the protection of Earthrealm. I would be happy to teach you if you would allow me.”

“I would be delighted to have the company, Liu Kang.” You very much meant that.

“I have some work to do around the temple but we can start this evening.”

“Perfect.”

Next Chapter >>

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citydreamgrls · 4 years ago

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they were roommates -part three

a weasley twins x fem!reader fic

summary: she had nowhere to go, fleeing home to pursue something along the lines of freedom, so being welcomed into the entrepreneurial twins life was a whole world of new experiences waiting to happen.

an: sorry this one took a while to come out, i promise i’m working as quick as possible for you all, thank you for all the love it’s been amazing and so lovely. love u as always <333

words: 2,606 (a bit shorter soz)

“What if she comes over here?” Neville asked, watching around the shop to try and see where y/n was amongst the hoards of customers.

“She won’t, she’ll be busy.” George reassured him, trying to explain their game plan for the day.

Originally they’d wanted to get the girl’s furniture into the old storage room on sunday, but given the fact that both twins were hungover most of the day they decided it would be best to leave it until the next day. Not to mention that y/n would have been suspicious if they both disappeared downstairs without explanation.

Neville had agreed to help, knowing the new girl couldn’t run things on her own if Fred had helped him carry a bed frame into the back. Plus, he was their backup for distracting her.

“Okay but what shall I say if she does see me?” He pushed the redhead.

“Just say that you came to talk to me,”

“Okay, yeah…” That seemed to settle his mind for a few seconds as George grabbed his coat, heading to the door with his friend so they could slip away to the furniture shop down the alley. “But what if she sees me again? What should I tell her then?”

“Say you left something behind the counter.”

“And what if she sees me again after that?”

“Neville, we don’t have long, can we just get this over with?” George pleaded, sick of the constant questions.

“Sorry mate,”

“It’s fine, we want it all done by today so we can’t waste anymore time.” He nodded.

Y/n was showing a group of kids how the electric shock shake worked, much to their delight, when they returned with the first round of furnishings. As enthralled as she seemed, she was also facing their way, something which put Neville on edge yet again.

“Quick behind here,” George instructed, pulling the metal frame behind a nearby shelf and inching closer to the tills where Fred stood. “Oi, freddie!”

“What?” He groaned, not wanting to ask why they were crouched like freaks behind the wonderwitch display. “You guys look like perverts you know.”

“Oh great,” Neville groaned.

“Shut up, I need you to distract y/n… now!”

“No can do, I’ve got a whole line of people here I can’t just leave - thank you madam.” He handed the bag of goodies over to a little girl with a brief smile, before turning back to his covert twin. “Figure it out yourself,”

“Fine,” He grumbled, grabbing a boy that wandered past. “Hey, I’ll give you 20 galleons to distract that lady over there for twenty minutes.” Of course, the little boy nodded with wide eyes, taking the notes and running over to y/n, who he was pointing at. He pulled her away by her leather jacket, rambling on about products further away from the front of the shop.

“Perfect!” Neville regarded, standing up and helping George shuffle into the back room with small grunts of effort.

“Right we better be quick and get the rest, we only have twenty minutes now.” He laughed, racing out of the shop and down the alley again with a surprisingly excited whoop.

Y/n hadn’t thought it odd that this one particular boy was asking so many questions, or that he was dragging her all over the shop so she could show him how it all worked. Most of which she wasn’t too sure, but still muddled along.

“Do you want me to help you carry all this to the till?” She asked him, amazed that such a young boy could afford so many things in one go. He shook his head, checking his watch with a grin and rushing off in the direction of Fred, who sighed when he saw the small mountain placed before him.

The girl looked around, not having seen George wandering around like he usually was. When he wasn’t unpacking endless amounts of boxes, that was. But the man was missing.

“Oh hi Neville!” She called over, spotting her old boss as he tried to sneak out unnoticed. “What are you doing here?”

Fred watched from the till, wide eyed, hoping that the awkward man could lie his ass off just this once. George appeared from the old storage room, hoping to thank his friend for all the help now that they were done. That’s when he saw how caught off guard Neville looked.

“I- uh,” Please, please just say something normal, both twins begged, knowing how bad he could be under pressure. “I came to see George.” He finally blurted out, all of their attention on the wide-smiling girl before him.

“Oh that’s nice, how’s the pub doing?” She moved on, presumably taken in by his small lie. Neville managed to converse like someone who wasn’t hiding something now that the subject had changed.

“That was close,” Fred whispered. “Be more careful.” “Hey it’s not my fault she saw him!” George hissed back.

While y/n offered to make dinner that night, much to Fred’s delight as he hated working alone, George hid down in her new room, putting together everything and putting the finishing touches together for her.

“Thanks for helping me by the way,” Fred told her, reaching over her hands as she chopped up vegetables for him. “I tend to mess things up on my own.” He admitted.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” She teased, nudging his side and grinning.

Fred felt a pang in his chest, wondering whether or not she acted like this just for him. Or maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to. Still, being alone with her felt normal by now, and he enjoyed asking her things without his nosy brother around to lecture him on it later.

The music on the radio was faint as they chatted, but he couldn’t ignore the way the girl’s head bobbed along to the music. Like she was lost in the sound, but still present and attentive to everything he said. He had never met someone so happy with life, despite being given so little to start with.

Maybe that was the secret. The girl was so hard down on her luck, that anyone's kindness would have been more than enough to keep that smile shining. So, when she was offered another chance at freedom, she had nothing to be down about.

“Oh!” She stopped him mid-air, holding his wrist that held a bottle of tarragon over the sauce they’d been making. He looked up, surprised that she had actually reached out to him instead of just telling him to stop. Still, a little tingle ran up his arm, making his spine shiver out. “It’s supposed to be oregano in this recipe…. That’s tarragon- see?”

The girl took her hand away from him gently and turned the bottle to show him, the man nodded.

“Ohh- see I can’t even tell the difference.”

He was distracted, she was distracting him. But he was beginning to enjoy it, weirdly. He liked having her around, and he liked the effect she had on him.

“It wouldn’t have made a massive difference, but it’s better to be safe.” She chuckled, passing him the right bottle of herbs. “Sorry for grabbing you,” Her cheeks blushed as she spoke, reliving the second his eyes caught hers in confusion.

“That’s okay… I lik-”

“Y/N!!!” George called up the stairs, interrupting the pair as she turned to the sound of the other twin’s bounding steps nearing them.

Fred jumped slightly, only just processing what he was about to say. God he was going mental, how did he ever think that telling her he liked the way she pressed her tiny fingers to his skin would help anything.

Luckily he didn’t need to worry about it, he hadn’t actually said it. That’s what mattered.

“What is it?” The girl asked, laughing as she ran to greet his brother in the living room. He jokingly fell into her arms, pretending to be exhausted beyond help.

She laughed so loud that the men had no choice but to join in, entranced by the sound itself.

“I…. have a surprise for you!” George bolted upright, grabbing her shoulders with a smug grin and turning her towards the stairs.

“But what about dinner!” She asked.

“It can wait!” He drawled, putting his hands over her eyes and leading her gently down each step.

Y/n looked so happy with him. Her smile wider than he’d ever seen as his brother had joked around with her like they were best friends. He wanted that, but he didn’t know how to be that for her.

“Come on Fred!!” She called from a few steps outside the loft, obviously moving a lot slower now that she couldn’t see anything.

He followed, laughing under his breath at the excitement in her voice. At least she was still thinking of him. The girl screeched at every step down the stairs, worrying that she would fall despite George’s constant reassurance that he had her.

It was dark in the shop, but when the man covering her eyes stopped she could see a sudden few bits of light peeking through his fingers.

“Can I look now?” She asked, fidgeting on the spot.

“Okay… go on.”

The twinkling lights made her squint a little, contrasting from the pitch black of her makeshift blindfold. It took the girl a few seconds to realise where they were, her eyes scanning her surroundings like she’d been dropped into a field.

But then there was the till, and the counter… and the storage room. Except, it wasn’t the storage room anymore. It was covered in colour, and little tiny lights that strung across the ceiling. It was the stars again, like in the loft. There was a little window, high up on the wall, where the alley opened up and she could watch people wonder by all day.

In the corner lay a big bed, covered in piles of cushions and blankets that were also laid perfectly on a little armchair in the corner. Her guitar was propped up beside a small desk, with a yellow lamp shining down on a white, leather bound notebook.

“What is all this?” She asked, suddenly confused by the sight. Which made the twins chuckle slowly.

“This.. is your room darling.” George grinned, even wider when she spun around to stare at them both in disbelief.

“Y-you did this? For me?” Her finger pointed between them, which made Fred raise his hands up in defeat.

“Oh no… this was all George’s doing, just my idea.” He felt bad now, having taken on most of the shop’s responsibilities while his brother had made her surprise happen.

She flung herself to George, throwing her arms up around the tall man’s neck with a happy squeal. It looked so natural with them, the way he didn’t even seem shocked and just picked her off the ground for a second. It was Fred’s own fault for liking her, it was his fault for telling his brother, and now it was his fault that Georgie was a hero in her eyes.

“Go look around!” The girl nodded, amazed by all the different things that had been transfigured for her. Her hair fell over her eyes as she leant down, touching everything as if she needed to make sure none of this was a dream. She was perfect.

But she was so busy talking to herself with excitement that she didn’t hear the hushed conversation between the two brothers.

“Sorry freddie,”

“Huh- Why?” He snapped out of his pathetic daze, turning to his sympathetic reflection.

“Well I didn’t think she would react like that now did I?”

“It’s fine, I don’t care.”

“I wanna talk about the other night-” “Oh yeah… that, well I wanted to tell you that what I said then was nonsense.”

George frowned.

“What do you mean?” “I was drunk and just rambling on, I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“But you were so-” “Especially if it was something I didn’t mean.” Fred cut his brother off, which was evidently enough to shut him up for good. Instead he just let out a defeated sigh and went back to watching y/n scurry around like a puppy.

They drank again that night, to celebrate y/n getting a more permanent set up within the shop. Which of course had felt like the right idea at the time, but Fred wasn’t that into it from the first glass.

He knew that y/n was just a friendly person, and saw the brothers as equals, yet he couldn’t deny the way his heart panged when she tipsilly begged George to dance with her. The two of them did so for a little while, the other twin feigning being too tired to keep his eyes open, that way he didn’t have to watch them.

“I can’t go on!” His brother laughed, his footsteps pattering over to the sofa where he crashed beside the ‘sleeping’ fred. He opened his eyes. “Sorry mate did I wake you?” “You’re good. Think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” He told the two of them, y/n still twirling between the living room and the kitchen door.

“Noooo,” She whined, taking his arm and holding her whole body against it. He had to fight the urge to jump away, worried that she was going to tackle him. But she was just a bit wobbly. “Won’t you dance with me freddie?” She begged, her eyes staring up at him like two full moons.

“I’m sure George will in a moment,” His mouth said before he had a chance to stop it.

Idiot, she wanted you not your brother. This was your chance!

“He’s rubbish with the slow songs,” She giggled, focusing the man’s attention on the forgotten music that had, as she said, gotten much slower than their dance tracks. “Just one, then you can go to bed.”

“Alright,” He laughed lightly, seeing her cheer right up when he agreed. She wrapped her fingers between his, holding tightly, and let him spin her about for a few seconds until she melted against the redhead’s body.

The two of them swayed from side to side, completely immersed in the moment. The girl liked being held this way, though she would never admit that, but it was just something she hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing. The fact that it was Fred too, someone who she trusted, made the whole thing a lot better.

Fred heard the final notes of the song end, then waited for her to move away so he could leave. But no such thing happened. He looked up, seeing George fast asleep on the sofa and held back a laugh.

Y/n didn’t wake when he lifted her gently, one arm propping up her head and the other beneath her knees, and quietly took her down to her new bedroom one muted step at a time. All the while, her face nuzzled into his chest perfectly.

It was only when he laid her down on the bed that Fred got a good look at her face, until then he’d avoided staring for too long in case she thought he was weird. But now he could see her better, study her, take every feature in without worry.

“Fuck,” he whispered, gulping at the way she slept so angelically. Yeah, he liked her and that he could have dealt with. But now, in that moment lit only by a flickering beside candle, freddie understood that it was only going to get harder to ignore.

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miracle-sham · 3 years ago

Text

Long for Who You Could Have Been.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 4, Day 19: Mistakes} |

———

| They might be monster hunters and that might mean their lives are fraught with chaos and danger. But there were moments in between the contracts and courts, fragile and wavering like the dying embers of a flame; where pasts, and hopes, and dreams were shared in the refuge of the campfire. |

| Word Count: 1,764. |

———

| A/N: So this is my second to last Jasonette July fic but the last to actually be posted in July since the other fic (Prompt: Loss) is taking longer than expected to write, whoops! Anyway here's a shorter Witcher au that's mostly fluff with a tinge of sadness here and there. Definitely feels weird to be using/needing so few tags for the first time in a long while! Lastly, thanks to my friend Saf whose reactions to the snippets I send her, absolutely fuel my will to write! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

The fire crackled gently, flames flickering in soft almost hypnotising patterns. The light and warmth were all that was keeping the chilling coastal mist at bay, from reaching their little makeshift camp.

Crescent moon and stars twinkled above, shining their silvery light down to mix with the ghostly mist below.

It was almost haunting, in the precious silence, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of waves against the cliff rocks not too far away. And the low hum of the local nocturnal bugs and other such creatures; the flap of bat wings, the cry of an owl, the flutter of moths and beetles, the scuttling of hedgehogs, mice, and foxes. The air was still, not even the faintest sea breeze and yet the fret rolled and crept and seeped into every nook and cranny outside of the protective glow of the campfire.

Jason sat on one side of the fire, on his bedroll and worked on cleaning his silver and steel swords with a rag, not quite humming as he quietly mouthed the words to a jaunty little tavern song, the Fishmonger's Daughter.

On the opposite side of the campfire, on her own bedroll, Marinette had a cloak splayed out across her knee with a needle and thread in hand. Tongue sticking out slightly, in concentration, carefully she darned away at the numerous little holes that had formed from walking through the thorny bush filled forest that their current contract had led them into entering.

With a huff, Jason threw the cleaning rag at the saddlebag on the ground beside him. He sheathed his swords and pulled out his favoured weapon, the crossbow with steel and silver-tipped bolts. Immediately he began checking the bolts for any potential damage and ensuring the shooting mechanism on the crossbow hadn't jammed.

“Something on your mind, Blue Jay?” Marinette asked, glancing up from her needlework for a moment.

He tipped his head back and sighed. “I've been thinking…”

“That's new.” She responded, mirth glinting obviously in her eyes and the bubble of laughter in her tone.

Jason gasped in faux offence, mindfully dropping his crossbow and scrambling for the cleaning rag just to throw it at her face.

Before it could hit her, Marinette plucked it out of the air with two fingers. She hummed mock-thoughtfully. “Your aim's off.”

“You take that back! My aim is impeccable. Alfred said so!” He argued back.

She snorted. “Alfred is biased because he's your grandfather figure. And I'll take it back next time we get through an entire contract without you missing a single shot.” To punctuate her point, she tossed the rag back at him.

He half-dived for it, grabbing it with both hands and with it safely in his grasp, placed the rag inside the saddlebag beside him. Throwing his arms up in mock-exasperation, Jason scowled playfully at her. “C'mon! That's not fair, you've never gone an entire contract without messing up or missing with your magic either!”

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed with a nod of her head and a smirk on her lips, “but I've never claimed to be perfect at magic!”

Her words caused him to falter slightly. “Right,” he swallowed a breath of air thickly, “That reminds me of what I was going to say before we got distracted.”

She frowned, furrowing her eyebrows and putting on a softer tone. “What is it? As much as we joke, I'd never actually judge you for missing shots or anything else, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know… I just.” He huffed in frustration. Hesitantly, he held her gaze with his own but not a second later, winced and shifted his to stare down at the flickering embers of the campfire pit. Avoiding eye contact with her. He clenched his fists. “D'you ever, I don't know, feel like this was all… a mistake?”

Scrunching up her face in confusion, she squinted at Jason. “What do you mean? As-as in taking the contract?”

“No! Well, yes but no. I mean…” He waved an arm, gesturing vaguely around them, “just everything. Becoming a Witcher. Or I guess in your case, a Sorceress. Do you regret it?”

When she didn't immediately respond, Jason huffed again, hunching his shoulders up and practically bristling like a particularly grumpy and grizzling moggy. “Look, never mind. Stupid question.”

“It's not stupid!” Marinette retorted, “I just… wasn't expecting a question like that at this moment.”

He stared at her expectantly. “Well?”

Tipping her head back slightly, she fiddled with the needle still in one hand and sighed. “I suppose I do, I know I shouldn't… but I miss the easy days. Like before I knew what I was capable of. Before I knew what horrors the world could bring. Back when my only worries were getting stitches right and not messing up when dealing with expensive materials. Or maybe having to worry if the Alderman's daughter was going to harass me at some point during the day.”

Marinette tilted her head forwards again, a frown gracing her lips, and shrugged. “What brings this up?”

There's not an immediate response, as Jason casts his gaze away from the fire—towards where the sea could be heard but not seen. His fingers twitched midair, almost as though plucking the strings of an instrument. “I never wanted to be a Witcher. I was a Child Surprise, dunno who was the one that offered the Law of Surprise though.”

“Ah, I sorta get that. I'm also a Child Surprise, didn't get to choose to be a Sorcerer either.” As she spoke, she nodded in solidarity.

Jason jolted, gaze immediately snapping up to stare at her, completely taken aback. “Wait seriously? You're a Child Surprise too? How'd that happen?”

“Well, my parents' bakery was attacked and Félix, y'know my mentor, saved them. He invoked the Law of Surprise, expecting to get bread or some other baked goods.” She snorted, “he was awfully surprised to end up getting me instead. And when I accidentally cast my first ever spell trying to escape the Alderman's daughter, I ended up teleporting to Félix.”

“So, wait Félix fucking invoked the Law of Surprise to get food? And got you instead. Holy fucking shit that's hilarious!” He wheezed, doubling over in raucous laughter.

Huffing, she cast a spell, causing a vine to sprout up out of the ground beside him and slap him on the knee. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!”

“Ouch! Hey, no fair!” Jason mock scowled, choking back any further laughter. Quickly, in retaliation, he cast a weak Aard.

The telekinetic wave knocked into Marinette, pushing her onto her back from the weakened force.

“Wha—! Oh, so the vine isn't fair but throwing me to the ground is!” She griped, crossing her arms (carefully as to not prick herself on the needle) but made no attempt to get up.

Half-shrugging and grinning smugly, he replied, “you started it!”

She made an exaggerated groaning noise in response before slowly shifting her position to push herself back up into sitting cross-legged. “Well, now you know how I became a Sorcerer. How'd being a Child Surprise tie into you ending up a Witcher, if you don't me asking?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged with both shoulders this time, “I tried to steal the infamous Bat of Gotham's horse, he asked me my name. Reluctantly and after some bribery of hot food, I told him. Didn't think to give a fake one, at the time. He made a face, invoked the Law of Surprise owed to him and dragged me back to the Bat Witcher school.”

“Huh,” Marinette responded, “so if you hadn't… what would you have done with your life?”

Jason raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously? This is me we're talking about. I'd have gone to Bard College, obviously. I'd have written poems and shit. And books, I'd have written books.”

Scrunching up her face once more, Marinette glanced down at the needle in her hand. “We're by the coast.”

“What?” He asked incredulously, giving her a bemused and questioning look. “What does that have to do with poetry and books?”

In a rush of words, she rambled, “we could take a holiday. I could find out about the spell to disguise your eyes… and uh hair too. That way no one will know you're a Witcher. And we can go to the bard college-town that's down the coast from where we are. We can scavenge together enough gold for you to attend, and you can write your poetry and books.”

Jason stared at her in shock, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Softly, as though anything louder than a whisper would cause the offer to shatter like his childhood dreams once had. “Oh, oh, could you really?”

As warmly as the fire between them, Marinette smiled, “of course! I'd have to ask Félix first of course. But he fell in love with Bridgette and she was a Witcher and he came up with a spell to disguise her whenever they weren't doing contracts or courtly politics. So I don't see why he wouldn't show me how to do it!”

Shakily, he wiped his eyes and smiled back. “Fuck, I'd love that!”

“Okay then! I'll contact Félix on the xenovox tomorrow.” As she spoke, a yawn slipped past her lips. “I think I'm gonna head to sleep now. I'll see you in the morning!”

“Good night, Marinette. I'm gonna stretch my legs real quick first.” He answered, hefting himself up and stretching his arms. “Sleep well, though.”

“Be careful!” Marinette yawned again and packed away her needlework for the night. She then wriggled into her bedroll. “And I'll try, g'night!”

“Night,” he whispered once more.

Quietly, so as to not disturb her, Jason slipped away from camp. Following the direction of the fret, he made his way down the safest cliff path he could find in the dark until his boots hit the sand. Step by step, he walked across the beach until the sea spray spattered against his clothes. He's close enough that the waves gently lapped at the toes of his boots.

Clutching one hand to his chest, just over where his heart was, Jason sighed and gazed longingly at the mist-shrouded sea.

“I never thought I'd get to continue my dreams after becoming a Witcher.” He whispered to the wind. “And now I can, thanks to her.”

He sighs again, heart warmed. And silently in the quietude of the beach at night, he cries alone. For his heart is too full with the kindness of another to contain the feelings any longer.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I’ll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC xMLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasonetteJuly2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 4 #Jasonette July Day 19 #Jasonette July Mistakes #Long for Who You Could Have Been #LfWYCHB #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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alienheartattack · 4 years ago

Text

To All Of Us, From 2000 Years Ago

I got so mad about 139 and the leaks that I banged out my own 3000+ word ending to the manga today. Please keep in mind that this is a non-shipping story. Although I’ve exclusively written Rivamika before, this is not a Rivamika story, and although there’s an Eren/Mikasa scene at the beginning. there is no relationship between them, only the implication of feelings that are not quite reciprocated. I also threw some Levi fan service in there because why the hell not?

CW: There are references to and non-detailed descriptions of rape in this story.

You can also read this on AO3!

"You know what you have to do," Eren says. Mikasa pretends not to hear him over the rush of the little creek they're sitting by so he says it again, louder.

"I know," she sighs. "Even now, knowing that you've done something so unforgivable, a part of me doesn't want to."

"You're a good person, Mikasa. You'll be even better without me."

She snorts a laugh. "I've killed people, too. Just not as many as you did."

"You always had the weirdest sense of humor." Eren puts an arm around her, presses a kiss to her cheek. "I'm going to miss it." That's what finally brings him to tears, the thought of not seeing Mikasa again. Or Armin. Or Connie, or Jean, or Captain Levi, even the rest of them. He's had plenty of time to accept that he'd die at nineteen, was always going to die at nineteen, but now that the moment has arrived he wants to hold on just a bit longer.

Mikasa doesn't cry, at least not the way he expects her to. Tears stream down her face but she doesn't sniffle, doesn't sob, doesn't rage or scream the way she’s done in the past. He sees them both, Mikasa the girl and Mikasa the soldier, perfectly coexisting in the inky blackness of her eyes. She has made her decision. She made it before she even stepped into the mouth of the Titan.

"Kiss me one last time," Eren weeps. "Please."

"Okay," she nods, cupping his face with one hand and leaning in close. "See you later, Eren."

When Mikasa pulls away from his lips, the deed is already done. His severed head feels sickeningly heavy in her blood-stained hands. His eyes gaze beyond her, beyond the veil of this world, clouded with the knowledge of the void. The Titan around her begins to disintegrate in plumes of white steam. Mikasa swears she can smell wildflowers.

"Mikasa Ackerman," a girl's voice echoes. Mikasa whips her head around, looking for the source of the sound. Someone seems to materialize from the steam, swirling eddies of smoke coalescing in the form of a small girl, scraggly blond hair falling into her eyes, barefoot in a dirty white dress. Her face is blank, her eyes downcast.

"Ymir," Mikasa says, the name forming in her mouth before she can think of it.

Ymir nods, then points to Eren's head. "You loved him. Why did you kill him?"

"I had to."

"Why?"

"Because some things are more important than my love." Ymir stares blankly, seemingly confused. "The millions of people who died are more important. The world is more important. Besides, what kind of person would I be to stand beside someone who could slaughter so many people so senselessly?"

"You… don't love him?" The little girl blinks quickly, white lids snapping over black eyes. Something about it seems inhuman, wrong somehow. Mikasa cannot help but think of insects.

A tear falls from her face and lands on Eren’s, snaking a trail down his cheek as though he'd shed it himself. "I can never forget what he did and I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive him for it, but I'll always love Eren."

"You wouldn't die for him?"

Mikasa answers without hesitation. "Never."

Ymir's gaze snaps up to Mikasa's, and she feels sick from what she sees in the girl's odd, dark eyes: a hunger, almost starvation, for the scraps of affection Karl Fritz would throw at her; a longing to be treated well, to be fussed over and doted on and adored. Ymir would close her eyes and dream of a shining, beautiful man when the king held her down and fucked her, made her recoil, made her bleed, beat her when she cried out or complained of the pain. She carved out a space in her mind for him where she sculpted him into her ideal. Sometime between that first bloody night and the day the assassin's spear pierced her chest she invented a Karl Fritz out of whole cloth, a man whose cold entreaties and brutal assaults were proof of his undying love.

Mikasa sees these things from Ymir’s eyes, feels the bruises forming on her back, the tearing and bleeding between her legs, the rotted wine breath of Karl Fritz in her mouth.

"I would never have jumped in front of that spear," she says, more confident than she’s ever felt. "I wouldn't even have considered it." Ymir frowns, cocks her head like she's trying to understand. "You thought you were doing the right thing, but you protected a man who never loved you. You laid down your life for a man who forced your daughters to consume your body. He didn't even mourn you."

A flash of anger contorts Ymir's face. Her eyes dart around wildly, turning Mikasa's words over in her mind. "But he loved me," she insists.

"Did he ever tell you he loved you? Or did he treat you like a slave?" Mikasa's voice wavers at the word slave, at the memory of Eren screaming at her across that restaurant table; the moment her wall of denial came crumbling down. No matter what his plan was, it became clear that day that he would step on any of them to achieve it. She had no idea how true that assessment would become, millions of bodies crushed into the contaminated earth beneath the feet of Eren’s Titans.

She wonders if things would have happened differently if he'd just admitted once that he loved her.

"You are free," she tells Ymir. "You choose your own destiny. I am free, and I chose mine."

Ymir says nothing, her eyes luminous with tears, and then dissipates into the smoke. Mikasa is vaguely aware of the wavering steam around her, of Levi flying on Falco's back and pulling her out of the Titan's mouth before everything turns hazy and white.

She can see the scene from two thousand years earlier as clear as though she were there, floating above it all: the crowd come to see King Fritz's speech, the hooded assassin's arm pulling back, the tip of the spear glinting in the daylight. The assassin lets the spear fly, its arc perfectly aimed at the heart of the tyrant. His wife Ymir, older and slimmer than the girl Mikasa met but still with those same sad, black insect eyes, watches in horror as the tip of the spear flies closer and closer; but she does not move, not even when it impales her husband through the chest and the light in his eyes is snuffed out.

In time-lapse, Mikasa sees it all: the accession of Queen Ymir, wise and fair, and the moderate reigns of her three daughters, and their daughters after them. The power of the Titans remains within the royal family, passed down from mother to daughter, a shameful, secret birthright. They create diplomatic ties with other countries, offering succor and counsel, avoiding the path of war so as not to reveal their ultimate power. There is no Great Titan War, no walls, no telepathic manipulation. The world moves forward in fits and starts as it always has, small skirmishes and occasional wars, but the Eldians remain steadfast and committed to peace. Satisfied with Ymir's choice, Mikasa finds herself closing her eyes, opening them for the first time again in the year 835, in her parents' house just outside Shiganshina, as a new doctor pulls her into the world. He is not Grisha Yeager, she notes, and then she forgets who Grisha Yeager is entirely.

In the year 845, there is no Wall Maria for the Colossal Titan to breach, and no Colossal Titan to breach it.

Inside one of the cities in what was once Wall Rose, a history teacher writes notes on a chalkboard before his first class arrives for the day. He draws a crown in the middle of the board and writes the subject of the day's class inside of it: QUEEN YMIR THE WISE. The teacher is startled by a noise behind him; he turns to find one of his students, a shy girl called Sarah, taking a seat at her desk.

"School hasn't started yet," he says. "You're supposed to be outside."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Smith," Sarah replies. "I was looking at a really interesting bug and the other girls started making fun of me."

The teacher nods. "All right, just this once. If you’d like, sometime I could teach you how to stand up to those girls."

Hundreds of miles away, the forests of Dauper ring with the whoops of an exuberant girl, triumphing at having killed her first deer with a bow and arrow she carved herself. She doesn't care that she's scaring the other game away with her commotion, or that she has no idea how she'll lug a hundred-pound carcass all the way back home.

In Trost, a young boy lingers over his breakfast; not because he wants to miss school, but because his mother's omelet is the most delicious thing he's ever eaten and probably ever will eat. His mother ruffles his hair and pinches his round cheek, then gently chides him to eat faster or he’ll be late.

A little boy in Ragako District, a few inches shorter than his friends, demands another explanation of the multiplication tables. He doesn't quite understand the concept, goes blank when his friends try to explain arrays of rows and columns, but he believes that he can pass today's test if he tries hard enough.

Across the sea in Marley, the prosperous Eldian District is strewn with streamers, celebrating the 2000th anniversary of the assassination of the cruel King Fritz. The children have the day off from school and are gathering in the streets, purchasing candy and ice cream from vendor stalls and exchanging them as gifts to celebrate the sweetness of life. A little blond girl receives an extra coin from her father, who tells her to get something special for herself.

A few blocks away, a doctor fills his medical bag and sets off to see his first patient of the day. As he walks through the crowd of happy children, many of whom he’s delivered himself, he hopes that his only son will change his mind and join the family business.

In Mitras, a shopkeeper opens his door for the first time, pausing for a moment in the early morning sunshine to admire the wooden shingle hanging by his doorway, gently swinging in the breeze. It depicts a hand wrapped around a mug of tea, wisps of steam rising into the air above it.

The door opens while he's adjusting the canisters on the shelf behind the counter, making sure their labels face perfectly forward. His heart leaps at the tinkle of the doorbell. He picked the most musical one, the one that made him happiest when he heard it, and he feels very good about his decision.

"Hello, welcome to Ackerman Tea— Mom!" His voice takes on an adolescent whine when he addresses his mother, which makes him feel like a child and impossibly old at the same time, despite his twenty-six years.

"Did you really think I wouldn't be your first customer?" she asks, beaming. "Of course I'm going to come support my sweet boy." Her gaze sweeps over the shop, its walls painted a deep forest green, the mahogany counter polished to a mirror shine. "I'm so proud of you, Levi. You've worked so hard and it shows." Her voice quavers, her eyes filling with tears.

"Moooom," he trills, softer this time, quietly moved. Her presence feels like an auspicious omen, a reminder from the universe that someone will catch him should he fall. "Is there a tea you’re interested in, or would you like me to help you choose? We have more than thirty varieties."

"You've been practicing," his mother notes with a nod.

Levi shrugs off her comment, feeling a bit bashful that she’s noticed his hard work. "I've never been great with people, and this job is nothing but people. At least until I can hire someone to cover the counter while I blend tea in the back."

"You'll get there soon," she says, pulling a few coins from her purse. "Get me something you'd think I'd like."

He thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration, before his face lights up and he grabs a step-stool to reach a canister of black tea flavored with strawberry and rose. "This one is sweet and floral, but it becomes so much more when you add a bit of milk. You don't even need any sugar."

"Perfect. You even thought about how I take my tea." She places a few coins on the counter, watching her son approvingly as he scoops the tea into a bag, folds it closed with surgical precision, and ties a blue ribbon around it. "You're going to be a success, my love. I know it."

"That makes one of us," he smirks, then scoops the coins into his palm and puts them in the cash register, enjoying the feel of the heavy keys under his fingers, the spring-loaded pressure of the drawer. He hopes he gets to use it many more times today.

"Will you be home for dinner?"

"I should be. I can't imagine people will want to buy tea at night."

"Good," his mother says. "Because now that you're in business, we should talk about finding you a wife."

"MOM!" he exclaims, a furious blush coloring his face.

Further south in Shiganshina, Mikasa sulks as her mother walks her into town, not wanting to leave the safety of her parents' cabin to learn and play with the other children. She is perfectly happy to do chores on the farm, to learn the simultaneously mundane and arcane secrets of coaxing a plant from seed, to throw feed to the chickens and pull weeds in the garden.

"Mikasa, you're ten years old. Your father and I can't teach you everything," her mother says.

"I can learn from books. I don't need to go to school."

"The fact that you're saying that means you need to go. There's more to the world than just our farm, my sweet. You might want to see the world someday."

The little girl huffs. "I doubt it." Her mother simply shakes her head and smiles, ruminating on her daughter’s impending teenage years, a possible hint of rebellion, but finds that hard to imagine. Mikasa is usually a calm, easygoing child, though perhaps a bit too inquisitive and stubborn for her own good.

Mikasa hugs her mother fiercely at the school gate, watching as she turns and walks back up the road that leads to their farm. She’s excited to make new friends and learn new things, but she misses her home more than she ever thought possible. She lets out a soft sigh, then turns to face the crowd of running, yelling children; her new classmates.

She trudges around the grassy schoolyard, dodging groups of kids chasing each other or playing impromptu games. Everyone seems to know each other already; even if she did feel comfortable enough to go up to someone and introduce herself, she has no idea who to approach first.

"Hey! Give that back!" someone screams behind her. Mikasa turns around to see a small blond boy jumping up and down, reaching for a book that a larger boy dangles just above his grasp. The larger boy just laughs at him, taunting him with the book, threatening to tear it from its spine.

Mikasa frowns, balling her fists at her sides, then approaches the boys. "He said to give his book back," she says to the bully. "Give it back."

The bully laughs. "You think you can tell me what to do?"

"I think you should give the book back if you know what's good for you," she snarls, putting her hands on her hips. The bully laughs again and shoves Mikasa out of the way with one hand, making her stumble backwards, tripping over her own feet until she lands on her behind in the dirt. She gets up, dusts herself off, and runs up to the bully, punching him square in the nose. He falls to the ground, dropping the book. Mikasa tosses it to the blond boy. The bully grabs his nose, tears welling in his eyes, and lets out a wail when he sees his hand smeared with blood.

"You leave him alone!" Mikasa threatens, looming over the bully, her dark eyes shining. He scrabbles to his feet and runs away and she lets out a relieved breath, her heart hammering in her chest.

"That was amazing!" the little boy says. When he approaches her, she finds that he's not actually that small, only a few inches shorter than her. "I've never seen you before. Are you new?"

"It's my first day," she replies. "I've lived here all my life but I haven't been to school yet."

"I'm Armin," the boy says. "What's your name?"

"Mikasa."

"That’s an interesting name. Are you from Hizuru?" Armin asks, his eyes wide with curiosity. He holds up his book, a thick, leather-bound tome, A Brief History of Hizuru and the Minor East Sea Islands written in gilt lettering. "My parents told me that the whole country is built around a volcano. A big mountain filled with liquid fire! Well, technically it’s molten rock."

"My mom's family is from Hizuru, but I’ve never been there and I don't know anything about any liquid fire mountains," she says tentatively.

"It's real!" he gushes. "I'm reading about it now. I could tell you about it more at recess if you want. I like to sit under that tree over there." He points off in the distance, at a huge pine tree that shades a corner of the yard. "They're going to ring the bell soon, otherwise I'd tell you now. Volcanoes are so cool. Sometimes they explode and shoot the liquid fire into the sky like a firework."

"Wow!" Mikasa marvels with a smile. "I can’t wait to hear about them."

#snk 139 #snk spoilers #snk leaks #snk fanfiction #alienheartattack writes

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lcnelyinthesky · 4 years ago

Text

admiration - tsukishima kei

a/n: okay hi?? im ellie?? heres this??? i worked on it for like four? days?on and off? and its longer than any oneshot ive written but yk shes cute ig. pls be nice pls enjoy... but also my last piece got 2 notes and im really hopin in not shadowbanned here lmao

genre: fluff, angst, rivals to lovers!!

pairing: bisexual!female!reader x tsukishima kei (yes bi reader its a vibe)

warnings: a break up with a beautiful woman i made up myself, swearing

word count: 3.7k (ahhhh!!)

enjoy!! :D

Elementary second year. Your newly-assigned seat was next to a much taller, blond kid. He was smart and bright, rivaling the sun in terms of unbridled joy. Now, none of that can be seen by eight year old eyes, but looking back and comparing, it's easy to spot that he changed.

Tsukishima Kei was an excitable kid, just as everyone was, but he was still snarky; his arrogance seemed to be something that just festered within his soul, no matter the trauma that brought it out.

Childlike wonder is still alive and well at eight.

The teacher you had back then was quite rude. She was pushy and angry, and she assigned way too much homework. Everything she uttered made you huff in disappointment, crossing your arms and hoping for some sort of reaction from someone. The kid next to you was named Koji--or, at least, that's what you called him. He was your best friend, spending every moment with you like you were siblings. You'd be able to crack a joke with the smallest glance and you’d talk constantly. As soon as your handwriting was legible to people of your age group, you'd pass notes back and forth and cackle at their contents. Until, of course,

“Tsukishima, will you switch seats with Kojikata today?” Your teacher sounded exhausted, huffing her sentence out on a sigh before going back to the multiplication tables on the board. Suddenly, your little world was interrupted.

“Y/N, right?” He didn’t look at you, placing his folders down on the desk and pushing his glasses back up as he sat. His words were hushed and quiet, but the class had moved into individual work--he wasn’t interrupting anyone.

“Yeah. Can I call you Tsukki?” You were angry, gripping your pencil tighter in your little hand as you wrote numbers down on white paper. One times one is one. Two times two is four. This is easy.

“No,” he was long doing the same thing, but writing quicker than you. That’s how it is, huh?

Three times two is six. Four times five is twenty. Six times three is eighteen. Five times six is thirty. This is easy-

“Miss, I’m done.” His voice was always so dry. Uninterested.

Four times three is twelve. “Me too!” Your hand shot up with the paper in it, sending a death glare at the boy next to you.

That's how it is, huh?

This pattern continued for weeks. Tsukishima didn’t move from his seat next to you, as your teacher had made the realization that you worked far harder without friends around. Tsukishima lit a competitive fire under you; everything was now a race.

It started with handing in assignments. Who would go up to the front desk first to have their work checked over? Who would finish this quiz faster? Then it transferred into everything.

Who would get to class faster? Who finished their lunch quicker? Who could read faster? Who scored higher on spelling tests? Who could run faster in gym class?

And then it was middle school.

Middle school brought in Yamaguchi Tadashi.

It'd be an understatement to say he warmed to Yamaguchi quickly, but the basis behind that was strange. Tsukishima was never one for friends, even though everyone wanted to be friends with him. He was cool in the eyes of a handful of eleven year olds; letting everything roll off your back seemed to be an admirable trait. Yamaguchi worshipped him, and Tsukishima took him under his wing to teach him the ropes of being a cool kid.

At heart, though, Yamaguchi was kind and attentive. He could tell when things were going wrong, and supposedly it was him that changed the rest of your life.

The rivalry continued just as it had in elementary, just with higher stakes. You'd fight for answering questions first, working ahead of everyone else to just beat him. He’d never bat an eye at it, and sometimes you thought it was all over, but then

“Y/N.” Tsukishima Kei stood three steps behind you, looming over you with the height he was seemingly born with. The hallway was emptying by now, kids walking into their classrooms once again. The white floors rung with the quiet sounds of soft-bottomed shoes and a light above your head flickered calmly.

“Yeah?” You spun around to meet his gaze.

“What’d you get on that lit essay?”

“A 96. Why?”

“No reason,” he smirked and tilted his head up, looking down at you, “I got a 100.”

A huff and a stomp away gave him the answer he needed as he followed you into the classroom, sitting down behind you and next to Yamaguchi just as he did every day. The little shit.

Tsukishima was never better than you, technically speaking. On average and on paper, you were always both roughly the same. You'd fight for being top of the class, the position switching between both of you every day. You excelled in creative things while he excelled at sports, but both of you dabbled in the other. When people in your year began dating, everyone came to assume you two were. It was embarrassing, really, because Tsukishima Kei was a little shit know-it-all who will never beat me at anything ever and people need to stop thinking he will because he won’t I’m better than hi-

“Hey?” Oh right. Friends.

“Koji!” He never left, at least not yet. His nimble fingers tapping on your shoulder brought you back to reality, making you jump and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his body for a split second.

“You looked zoned” his face was riddled with concern that was easy to write off.

“Oh, whoops” a small blush heated your cheek as your hand migrated to rub your neck. “Did you want something?”

As you walked into the classroom a bit further, Koji sat on your right; he seemed to buckle down more when you had moved away from each other way back in the day, so there were less mid-class comedy shows. He grew up just as you had, and with the closeness of the two of you people began to think you were dating. At twelve, it was incredibly necessary to date someone--anyone. Theories bounced from everywhere and anywhere and with you it was either your best friend or your biggest rival. Your lack of attraction to either of them became the center of many late night crises.

“Not particularly,” his gaze switched from you to the board again, beginning to write something down when he turned his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Of course I am,” you smiled at him, the kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly it was high school.

“Tsukishima is really cute! And he's smart, I heard that Kageyama wasn’t too bright somewhere.”

“But Kageyama’s so much hotter! His being a little dumb sometimes is endearing.”

“Are we not going to talk about that third year setter, Sugawara?”

“No, he’d never go for a first year. Besides, that Hinata kid is more of an enigma.”

“Have you even seen them play?” A howl of angry “yes”s fell over the crowd, trying to prove something. None of them had ever seen them play.

That asshole Tsukishima getting popular felt like a stab in the soul. None of them knew him or how much he sucked, but the amount of girls fawning over him was horrific.

There's something consistently poetic about young love, no matter where it comes from. Something extra sweet about holding pinkies in school corridors when no one is looking and seeing them every day, smiling loudly as the sun broke over the horizon all bright and early. The raging hormones and dumb, fake social hierarchies of fifteen make emotions run wild, and only the deeply immature end up helplessly infatuated. Others are more cautious, but there's only so many precautions one can take at fifteen. Sometimes some of us just want to be loved, no matter the sincerity of it.

Cared for, and whatnot. No harm in that, in the long run at least.

“Y/N, right?” Her name was Mei. She was in your class; 1-4, just like Tsukishima. She was pretty. Long, black hair was preceded by two green streaks at the front. She’d always have those down, making her features look like a photo in a perfect frame. She had a collection of hair clips with small shapes on them that she’d have somewhere on her person at all times. Her more mid-sized body was paler than most, and she was covered in freckles and moles. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue that looked deep enough to swim in. Her cheeks were always stained with a peachy blush that moved up her collarbones and into her ears, making her look like she was always smiling no matter what her face was doing. Karasuno’s school uniform did wonders for her curves, the skirt swaying up on occasion and making her look so damn perfect.

“Yeah! You’re…” a second of dumbfounded pause felt like years in your mind, coming to the conclusion that she was the most beautiful girl you had ever met. “Ojiro Mei?”

“Yep! I just wanted to tell you you looked really pretty today!” Her voice always had an upward inflection, and was higher than most. It was cute. Incredibly cute.

“Oh.” A moment of confidence fell over you like you weren’t in control of your actions, “you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you very much,” she bounced back on her toes and then rolled back to her heels, hands intertwined behind her back, “You’re too kind, Y/N.” Her sentences were always punctuated with an eye-crinkling smile.

Later that day, you found her on every social media account you could; she messaged you first.

When you don’t know you’re interested in women, it’s hard to notice that they’re flirting with you, but after a handful of supposed gay panic, you asked her on a date.

She was two inches shorter than you, and somehow that persisted no matter what shoes she was wearing. Every small outing with her felt like cloud nine--watching the sunset, small conversation over tea at a nearby cafe, cuddling in your bedroom with only a string of Christmas lights on. She always looked so wonderful in soft lighting, the potential cold of winter disappeared with pale beiges that made her freckles look like stars. Every action Mei ever did was soft and full of care. She could send every single emotion through her fingertips on your jaw, deepening a kiss you started moments before. She was like magic, until she wasn't anymore.

You supposed, when thinking back, that things fell out around month thirteen. The rose colored lenses everything was viewed through faded a bit, and it's easy to notice her pulling away. There were less late night phone calls and less recommended music and less hands running through your hair. Everything has a natural progression to the end, right?

“Do you still feel it?” It was raining. Large drops of water fell down to the floor, smacking the pavement at speeds you couldn’t even try to measure. She was wearing a bright yellow raincoat that looked almost dull in the four pm light.

“Feel what?”

“Anything, baby.” All of her words ended with a huffed out sigh, like she was tired of something. Lying, maybe.

You pondered the question, and it seemed like your hesitation gave her all the answer she needed.

“Ya know, Y/N.” She looked down and grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing her thumbs on your palms as you grabbed around them. “This was fun. We had a good run.”

A solemn tear fell down your cheek at the ending, but there was no use in self pity or anger now. She was so sweet and kind, and it's truly unthinkable how she continued that kindness in the end.

“Yeah. A good run.” The pink in your cheeks grew as you choked out a laugh, pulling her in for one final hug under the dim fluorescent lights on the front door overhang of the school.

Fifteen came and went with love, and when sixteen rolled around you wondered if you’d ever be loved like that again.

A spirit can't be broken overnight, and if you’ve spent the last eight years of your life having a strong, consistent rivalry with someone, it won’t leave any time soon. Tsukishima and you were on similar playing fields for most of your life, but you had one thing he didn’t: relationship experience. In that way, you always counted yourself one point higher, like a boy scout badge.

For a spell, however, your intensity changed. There was nothing more driving you than spite, and there was nothing you wanted more than to beat him. You were well into your second year of high school at this point, and--volleyball notwithstanding--you had wins over Tsukishima. You had seen him play volleyball, every match in his second year, and you deemed he was simply okay. You refused to count his success onto the list of wins for both of you.

June fifteenth. Tournaments were coming up around the corner when it happened, which explained every reason why he was there. You weren’t exactly prepared for the rain, so the best bet seemed to be sitting at the front entrance of Karasuno High School and wallowing in a little bit more self pity before you went home. You were just dumped after all, the tears weren’t done falling.

The feeling between sadness and shame overflowed you, shades of yellowish green painting the world around you and churning your gut into oblivion. And the tears fell. It felt like a scene in a movie; in a few seconds, a strong, capable man would show up to your rescue.

“Y/N?” what the fuck?

He was sweaty. His face was matte from a light film of saltwater. He had a grey umbrella over his head, keeping himself dry from the still-pelting rain. His six-foot-two frame was covered with a black tracksuit, and he still had his sports goggles on.

Those fucking sports goggles.

“Tsukishima.” you deadpanned, trying to get him away as fast as possible. His words were snarky, as always, but this time laced with concern. Like he actually cared.

“What are you still doing here? It’s almost six,” he stood under the overhang with you, crouching to take a few feet off of his incredible height.

“Sulking?”

“Ah,” he huffed and sat down next to you, “it’s not great for your posture, ya know.”

“Oh shut up, Tsukishima.”

“Remember when we were eight,” he looked up, studying the moths as they flew around the lights on the ceiling, “and you asked if you could call me Tsukki?”

“Vaguely, but we were eight.”

“Yeah, true” his head dramatically fell to his lap, staring at his knees as he chuckled, “but you can. Call me Tsukki, that is.”

An uncomfortable laugh fell from your lips, and he spoke for you, “this one kid, Koganegawa, the setter on Date Tech, calls me that too. It's not a Tadashi-only nickname anymore.”

“You say Tadashi-only like I wasn’t there first.”

“He never asked.”

“Would you have said no?”

“Probably” he hasn’t actually looked at you yet.

“Should I not have asked?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Okay, Tsukki” you drew out the last letter, giggling at the situation before you had time to think about your emotions.

He noticed that you weren’t crying anymore and helped you stand, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. Tsukishima and you lived closer than you thought, walking the same direction and only splitting up seconds away from your home.

You walked in silence the whole time, but it was comfortable. While he was your rival, he was always a friend. There was nothing scary or intimidating about him, as is with most people when you’ve known them forever; it was almost like his facade just didn’t work on you. You were huddled close to him to stay out of the rain.

The second you parted ways, you ran home. The rain was more of a drizzle now, but the temperature began a free fall--getting out of the cold as fast as possible was your first priority. Upon entering the front door and taking off your shoes and jacket, leaving everything to sit in the entryway, you took a shower. The rain didn’t do enough to wash away the pain of the day, and warm steam would let the rest evaporate. The expected unrelenting sadness wasn’t really present as much as was expected, though. Everything felt fine. Content. Okay.

And it continued that way. He sent you a snapchat asking if you had gotten home safely, which prompted a memory of you never giving each other your phone numbers. After a quick yes, tsukki. no need to worry ;), you sent him your number asking to play some game.

Whatever is meant to happen does, right? Any excuse for falling for him. You didn’t want to, of course, but things happen. Time changes. Thus, the excuses. Thus, the ignorance. Thus, the five stages of grief.

It started with the denial, because no Y/N you can’t like Tsukishima Kei. He’s so competitive and mean and snarky and horrible and you hate him! Then, the anger, because Tsukishima sucks and he’s horrible and you’re going to punch him in his stupid cute face. Next, the bargaining, because please don’t let this be happening you’ll do anything to lose these feelings, even if it means letting him win at something. Going into the depression, because all you’ve ever wanted was to be free of this assclown and now you’re stuck thinking about him at three in the morning when you’re supposed to be dreaming about anything other than him. And finally, acceptance, when you scowl at him in the hallway because fuck, you like Tsukishima Kei.

The worst bit of acceptance is getting over it. Now you had to confront your feelings. Now you needed to tell him.

It was roughly five months since he found you sulking on school grounds, and you regretted most days the way you let him text you every morning. It’d always be something stupid, like a joke about the novel you were reading in lit or sometimes he’d tell you, off hand, something dumb Hinata and Kageyama did at practice. Sometimes he’d text you, within the first twenty minutes of the school day, pointing out something little you did with your hair. They were never really compliments as much as comments; he’d say “your socks have a pink ring at the top” and give you nothing to work with from there. A simple yes would suffice, you always supposed, because “yes, tsukki. they do.”

He’d linger at his desk during the break between classes and would stay there if you didn’t leave, but would leave a few steps behind you if you did. He wouldn’t follow you, but he’d watch to know where you were going. Everything he did was concealed though--you'd only notice if you really wanted to know.

Yamaguchi was the only one to notice, even after a while of it. You’ll never know what he said to his friend, but the conversation you had with the aforementioned friend a day later gives some guesses.

“Y/N?” Tsukishima was never the shy type, and you knew him in the days where everyone was shy. He wasn’t loud, but he was bold. His words were always pointed and important. Everything he did always had purpose and intensity behind it.

“Tsukki?” You were sitting under a tree, enjoying the late spring weather of the beginning of your third year. Nothing became intense yet classwork wise, so there was ample time to chill on the school grounds. Overlooking the soccer field was a large oak tree. It was big enough to comfortably have multiple groups of people under its shade, but it was empty at the moment; save for you and the book you were reading.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to maybe go out sometime?” He somehow didn’t pause while talking, but his words came out more something akin to word vomit. You we’re more shocked than you should have been, if you had picked up on the signs. But you were feeling the same as he was, as far as you could tell.

“Sure, when?” You looked back down at your book for a second, placing the bookmark in it and folding the pages shut.

Tsukishima looked dumbfounded, standing there with his eyes bugged out and his mouth slightly agape. He started making unintelligible babbling noises, hoping to get something out that had any meaning at all. You took the reins instead, gaining confidence in his lack thereof.

“I was planning on getting coffee or something today after school. It gets really cold at night now, huh?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Would you like to join me?”

“There's a break before practice today so” he hesitated, letting the pink in his cheeks finally catch up to the beating in his chest. “Sure.”

You wouldn’t have ever pegged Tsukishima Kei as the flustered type.

There was never a drop in conversation, as there never really was between you two. A whole life together and you still had things to talk about, mentioning everything from your individual childhoods to recent developments. Turns out he never knew what genre of books were your favorite. Or what kind of music you listened to. Or what any of your hobbies were.

Turns out you both had more in common than you thought, competitive spirits notwithstanding. Tsukishima Kei was a strange man in every sense of the word. He was arrogant and snarky and disinterested and bright and passionate and smart. He was your rival, smug look plastered on his smug face making your chest bubble in anger just as it had a million times before--or was that admiration this time? The world may never know.

All that was real right now was the deck of cards on the table, being separated out into a card game both of you learned as kids. The small, round, cafe table shook with every slap of your hands, but the basis of your relationship would always be competition. It's just that now the anger behind that competition was gone. All that was left was admiration.

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Escape

Summary: The Red Room haunts you, from the moment you stepped foot inside to long after you’ve left. Truth is, you don’t think there is any escaping it.

Warnings: 18+ Violence, Depression, Mentions of Death, Smut

Chapter 2

******

The rain outside falls harder, seemingly each time lightening strikes.

Said rain pounds against your body, drenching your clothes even more, as you nail the tarp into the ceiling. Another bolt strikes through the sky, providing the perfect light to hammer in the last nail.

Watching the rain roll off the tarp instead of inside the house, you slide to the edge of the roof and jump down. Quickly going inside.

The lit fireplace heats the room perfectly, but you still shiver from your wet clothes.

The annoying sound of water splashing into a tin bucket is no longer there, so you contentedly move the bucket from the middle of the kitchen.

Admittedly you should’ve fixed that hole when you first got to the safe house a month ago, instead of waiting for a storm to hit.

But you’d been distracted and on edge and there wasn’t much else for you to do at 2 a.m.

Which is proven as you look around the wooden house with a sigh.

Before your thoughts could run wild and your paranoia could set in, you decide to go shower.

The hot water rushing down your bodies soothes you as much as it can. Yet it also makes you think.

Think about everything that’s happened in the past month.

Having travelled all the way from Germany, where you last saw Natalia, to Switzerland, to now Italy.

You didn’t really have any reason to leave the first two safe houses. But you swore HYDRA had found you, or the KGB.

Laying down each night, eyes locked on the ceiling, not an ounce of sleep greeting you. Only to jump up in a panic at the first uncommon noise and rush out of the safe house.

You’re determined, this time, to stay until it was rationally and genuinely necessary to leave.

Finally getting out of the shower, you get dressed, and go to find something to eat.

Your kitchen is horribly stocked.

Still, you manage to pull together a peanut butter sandwich.

It brings a nostalgic feeling to you. You recall all the moments you’d shared with Natasha over this very small, minuscule, snack.

******Flashback******

“Shhhhh.”

The red head beside you giggled again, this time slapping her hand over her mouth to muffle it.

With the shorter girl behind you, you peaked around the corner. Not finding any threats, you tugged her forward with your laced fingers.

The two of you slipped back into the shadows of the hallway and down to the only way out of the building(that isn’t guarded).

Having snuck this way about a hundred times, you and Natalia got to the mess hall easily. And you also easily found the food you were looking for.

With the peanut butter thickly applied, you slapped the bread together, and ripped the sandwich in half. Then offering half to Natalia and biting into yours.

“Is it good?” Natalia asked quietly, voice and eyes dripping uncertainty.

You smiled at the girl,“ try it Natty, I promise you’ll like it.”

Trusting you with her life, and blushing at the nickname, Natalia bit into the sandwich.

She chewed as you watched her cautiously. And the most beautiful smile lit up her face.

She instantly loved how salty and sweet it was. It was nothing compared to the bland soup and bread they had always served.

“This tastes amazing Y/N/N.”

You nodded, finishing your half,“ I know. You promise to keep this our little secret?”

Again the girl blushed,“ I promise.”

*****End Flashback*****

You shake your head, clearing your mind of the memory and thinking how childish it is to feel nostalgic over a sandwich.

“There better be a half for me over there.”

Knife in hand you whip around quickly at the sultry voice.

“We both know you aren’t gonna use that.” Natalia says, pushing the point of the knife away as she grabs half of the sandwich.

Heart slowing to a fairly normal pace, you lower the knife.“ What’re you doing here Natalia?”

“You don’t sound too happy to see me” The slightest hint of disappointment hidden with a playful smirk.

Standing up straight, you quirk an eyebrow,“ answers Nat.”

“I need your help.” She comes clean.“ I’ll explain on the way.”

You don’t move, which she expects.

“Natalia do you know how unsafe it is to just follow me here? I know you know they could be watching.”

Natalia frowns and truly takes in her surroundings.

The cabin in the middle of nowhere. A chair and table set in front of the fireplace, not a single decoration in sight, and your bag by the door.

She knows now how scared you still are. Even though you saw the HYDRA base blow up, and she told you it was the last, you’re still afraid of them.

You haven’t settled in and it’s clear you don’t plan to.

She can’t say she blames you. After escaping the Red Room, thanks to you, she’d always looked over her shoulder. At times, even now, she still does.

Sighing, she steps closer. You freeze up entirely when she takes your hands in hers.

How is it that years and years later, she’s still the same. Her hands are still as soft as you remember.

“There’s no one watching you Y/N. I told you before, HYDRA is done. You. Are. Safe.”

Believing her is almost a natural instinct. With her eyes boring into yours with nothing but conviction you need to believe her.

“It-” she watches you look down at your hands in hers,“ it can’t be that easy.”

She squeezes your hands,“ it wasn’t easy, trust me. But it’s true.”

“Nat I-”

“Jesus Christ! I’m sorry but Steve turned the jet off and it’s freezing out there.”

You push Natalia against the wall beside the door, knife in hand, as the figure approaches.

“Y/N-”

Natalia doesn’t finish, not in time. You’ve already trapped the intruder’s hands behind his back and held the knife to his throat.

“Hey woah, what the hell is this?” He exclaims wiggling against your body to get free.

You here someone else coming in so you kick in the back of the first intruders knees and hold the knife toward the other.

A tall blonde man walks through the door with his eyes on the ground, a cold breeze blowing past him. His hands shoot up in surrender when he looks at the current situation.

There’s a frown deeply set on his brows.

“Natasha I thought you said she was a friend.” He says to the red head.

“She is.” Natalia snips, walking towards you and taking the hand you have wrapped around the other guys neck.“ Y/N it’s okay. They’re with me. They’re friends.”

Looking from the blue eyed blonde man, your eyes connect with Natalia’s green ones. And you let the guy go.

He drops to the floor. One hand rubbing his neck as he breathes raggedly and the other holding him up.

“You-you’re lucky,” he wheezes,“ I didn’t whoop ya ass.”

“Right.” You reply after an eye roll you say,“ sorry.”

Natalia raises an eyebrow at you. It’s not often, if ever, that you apologize to people. Especially a stranger.

The blonde steps further in, finally shutting the door and cutting off the cold.

“Y/N I’m assuming.” You nod.“ I’m Steve, that’s Sam. Natasha tells us you have a skill set that could help us.”

“I’d say I do but I’m unaware of the situation.” You say, shaking his outstretched hand.

He says he’ll explain on the way which causes you to glance at Natalia. Her eyes tell you how serious this is, so you nod.

After you scoop up your bag and shut the power off, your’rewalking on to the jet with the three. To find two others inside.

The man is tinted red, clad in a tight green suit, and stretched out on a cot. Beside him sits a brunette, hand caringly rested on his shoulder.

They’re both beaten up and stuck in their own world. You leave them that way.

Steve goes straight to the pilots seat and Sam is still eyeing you and quite frankly it’s starting to make you uneasy.

Natalia sits down and pulls you down beside her. Sam sits across from you, brown eyes narrowed.

“Are we going to have a problem?” You ask leaning forward.

Sam does the same,“ I don’t know, you’re the one that choked me.”

You scoff,“ you’re supposed to be a soldier and you’re upset over a minor choking?”

“Minor choking? Is choking really considered minor to you?”

“Seeing as I could’ve stabbed you, snapped your neck, or simply slit your throat? Yes, I think choking is minor.”

“News flash, it isn’t.” He snaps.

You roll your eyes, and sit back into the chair, arms crossed,“ did you die?”

“Wh-” he stops to fix a glare at the giggling blonde beside you.

“Stop glaring are her.” You glare at him.

This catches his attention even more than your altercation did.

He smirks and leans back,“ am I sensing a little something here? Like, I don’t know, you two were more than just friends.”

Natalia stops laughing instantly and begins bickering with Sam about minding his business.

But your mind is stuck on his words.

‘You two were more than just friends.’

It couldn’t be more true.

The red head was the love of your life. She still is.

From the second they brought Natalia in and assigned you to train her you knew you were screwed.

You had trained dozens of girls before but there was something about the red head that drew you in. Maybe it was her fascination with you that hid behind her scared confusion. Or the beauty in the smiles she allowed to slip when she was with you.

Whatever it was, it was strong enough to make you ignore/forget all the teaching, beatings, and brainwashing.

Having her in the Red Room made all those incredibly shitty days a million times better.

And even after you helped her get out from under their thumb, the memories of it all kept you from losing your sanity. Or at least all your sanity.

“Hey,” a warm hand on your knee pulls you from your thoughts,“ you okay?”

When you look into her eyes, you’re hit with just how much you felt towards her. How much you still feel.

You gently place your hand over hers,“ yeah, I am.”

“Good,” her eyes search yours,“ cause I should fill you in on what’s going on and why we need you.”

******

“Uhhhh what?” You chuckle in disbelief.

Sam mumbles ‘that’s what I said’ as Steve tells you he doesn’t know much else.

Apparently Steve, Sam, and Natalia has gone to get the two other passengers, who you now know to be Wanda and Vision, when they found them being attacked by “aliens”.

The story isn’t at all far fetched, but you’re curious as to how this should involve you.

“So, aliens,” you gauge everyone’s very serious expressions,“ showed up and attacked Vision and Wanda and threatened to come back. On top of that you got a distress call from your friend and you think the two are related.”

Everyone nods.

“Right, well, I’m just trying to understand where I come in with whatever is about to happen?”

Steve shuts the jet off and stands,“ the call from our friend was a lot more distressing than you think. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

With that he walks off the jet.

Frowning, you look to Natalia, who can only nod and gesture for you to follow her.

You take in your sorroundings as you walk. The large buildings, the expanse of trees, and what you assume to be a lake in the back.

You also notice all the people. Everyone dressed in uniforms moving around. It puts you on edge.

Anxiety already struck you on the jet with these people you didn’t know, sans Natalia, and now there are dozens more strangers around.

“Hey,” a familiar hand slips into yours,“ there’s no reason to get anxious.”

For the first time in years, you crack a smile. Nothing major, just a little smirk almost. But it incites a smile from Natalia as well.

“I’m gonna need you to stop reading me so well, it’s a slap in the face to my training.” You joke.

“The same training I had? It works. I just know you too well to fall for it.”

You wonder if it’s possible to die and come alive all at once.

Being reminded, once again, of how important Natalia truly is to you makes your heart pound. It coming from her makes all the difference though.

There was never a moment when you hadn’t thought of Natalia. That includes wondering if she thought of you as well. Maybe, just maybe, she had never stopped thinking of you either.

You’re pulled from those thoughts when Natalia’s hand leaves yours.

You watch as she hugs the darkskin man with metal leg braces.

The man eyes everyone, gaze lingering on you, before he say,“ you guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of years.”

Not having a clue what he’s referring to, you just watch the interaction. Eyes snapping to the new voice that joins

“Uh, I think you look great.” The shorter man wrings his fingers nervously,“ uh, heh, yeah. I'm back.

Silence.

“Hi, Bruce.”

You now look at Natalia, not able to read her expression as her back is to you. But her body language gives away the tension she feels.

The guy, Bruce, also tenses, eyes boring into Natalias’s,“ Nat.”

Behind you, Sam whispers,“ this is awkward.”

You frown at him, then at Natalia and Bruce,“ why is this awkward?”

All eyes fall to you.

No one says a word.

“I’m sure you guys could use a shower and some food, we’ll talk after.” The darkskin guy says, hoping to break the tension.

As everyone starts to break off, he looks at Steve then you.

“James Rhodes.” He introduces himself.

You shake his outstretched hand,“ Y/N.”

“She’s a friend of Natasha’s.” Steve explains.

Rhodes chuckles,“ didn’t know Nat had friends.”

“I take offense to that.” The blonde seemingly appears beside him, Bruce standing close behind her.

“Funny, I’m beginning to think Natasha has a lot of friends.” You remark, not even glancing at her.

Truthfully you don’t know where that quip came from. Well you do. It’s because you’re hurt.

Granted, it was unrealistic of you to think Natalia hadn’t been with anyone since you, but that didn’t stop the glimmer of hope you had that you had been her only one. Cause she’s yours.

Not once had you ever been with anyone else. You couldn’t. No one could compare to Natalia for you so it made no sense to attempt to be with someone.

But you now realize how stupid that had been.

“Would it be possible to use one of those showers you were talking about?” You ask Rhodes.

He nods, but Natasha speaks before he does.

“I’ll show you to one.” You notice her hand move toward you but she stops, instead nodding for you to follow.

“Uh Nat,” Bruce speaks,“ could we maybe talk later?”

Natasha nods to him, glancing at you first.

The silence sets over you two immediately. It lasts all the way through the halls and into a bedroom.

“Y/N I know you’re upset and I-”

“I’m not upset Natasha.”

And that gives you away faster than anything else could have.

The blonde stands up straight, hurt flashing in her eyes,“ what did you just call me?”

You sigh,“ Natasha. Because that’s who you are,or at least who you’ve become.”

Which is a fact you should’ve accepted before.

She isn’t your Natalia anymore. And it’s clear that she hasn’t been for years.

Holding on to the ideology that she hadn’t changed is why you’re so hurt. You saw how differently she moved and you know she took down HYDRA, or at least assisted. But that hadn’t necessarily meant she was completely different.

Still, you saw the way she interacted with everyone, how she spoke, and acted, and in the back of your mind you knew she had changed. But she held your hand and smiled at you the same way she used to.

Every thought you had made your head hurt and it confused you. So you stopped thinking about it.

“What’d you mean?” Green eyes shine with building tears.

“Don’t cry. Please.” You face her completely,“ you’ve changed- we both have. I should’ve known when I saw you on that rooftop.”

Natasha steps closer,“ some things have changed but I’m still me.”

“Do you really believe that? After all these years, everything you’ve been through, can you say you’re still Natalia?”

“Yes,” her hands squeeze yours,“ I’m the same person you used to sneak peanut butter sandwiches with, who you used to hold at night when the guards finally went away, the same person you kissed right before you snuck me on that train.”

She sighs at the hesitance in your eyes.

She isn’t in the least bit surprised at your reaction to all of this, but she never thought you’d doubt her.

“Admittedly I have been through a lot that has affected my character but I’m still me.”

There’s no time to reply as someone knocks at the door and Steve leans in.

His blue eyes flicker between you two and your hands.

“Sorry to interrupt but we need to talk.”

Natasha nods.

Steve disappears, leaving the two of you alone.

“I should uh, shower and suit up.” You finally say and it’s the last thing Natasha wants to hear from you.

The blonde woman needs to know that you believe her. That you still see her as your Natalia. But she doesn’t get that from you.

She just gets a lingering gaze and your retreating form.

******

Taglist: @thelastavenger-3000

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romonova #natalia romanova #black widow x reader #black widow #marvel x reader #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu #reader insert #Escape

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

Text

Wedding Dresses - What You Wear Getting Married to Each of the Triple Frontier Men

Pairings: Will Miller x Reader, Ben Miller x Reader, Frankie Morales x Reader, Santiago Garcia x Reader, Tom Davis x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Light cursing Notes: Like halfway through writing this I was like ‘hey, I know! Moodboards!’ Which I don’t do often so I’m sorry if they’re...Bad. I also wound up Pinteresting like c r a z y for this so if you want a link to anything I gotchu ;) The actual headcanons also got away from me while I was writing them, so. Whoops.

Will Miller - Romantic Lacy A-Line

You’d both waited for this - for a long time. You knew it wasn’t going to be a big event; just your families and your closest friends. Will was already covered in the wedding wear department - he was going to be wearing his dress uniform, he didn’t even have to worry about a tux. You on the other hand, well. You had a few things to consider. The reception was going to be in his parents’ backyard; you knew it would be decorated with white string lights and mason jars full of flowers. It’d be sweet, romantic. You decided that you wanted your dress to capture that feeling. Going into dress shopping, you weren’t sure about lace - you didn’t want to look like a tablecloth. But the embroidered bodice of the dress had thrown you for a loop - and the lace didn’t blanket the skirt, it was placed expertly throughout. You felt delicate and romantic in it. You opted for a shorter veil; you were sure it would come off after the ceremony, anyway, and you didn’t want to worry about it. You decided to wear the necklace that Will had given you for your last anniversary, and found shoes that complimented the lace detail on the dress. “You find a dress?” Will asked you when you came home from dress shopping. You’d told him that you had. “Do I get a hint?” He’d asked. “I got a mini dress. Barely covers my thighs -- neckline down to my navel. You’re gonna love it, babe,” You’d teased. Will had laughed, swept you into a kiss. “You could wear a burlap sack and I’d love it,” He’d sworn. After your ceremony, as the two of you drove to his parent’s house for the reception, he leaned over, kissing you sweetly at a red light. “For the record,” He murmured, “I think I actually like this better than a burlap sack.” “...But less than a mini dress?” You asked. Ben Miller - Boho Chic Dress - with a surprise two-piece look for the reception

It was going to be a party, you knew that going in. The first thing you and Benny had booked was the frickin’ DJ. You knew going into dress shopping that you’d be looking for something you’d be able to dance in, and something that you’d be comfortable in all night - the two of you were getting married in mid-July; it was going to be hot. Benny had told you, “Look, I don’t care what you wear -- we’ve gotta be able to move, babe. None of that tight-- waddle-walk type dress shit, what’s it called? Penguin?” “Mermaid!” You’d corrected him once you’d managed to stop laughing. The dress that you wound up with wasn’t the ‘traditional’ wedding dress, but you and Benny weren’t a traditional couple. The slit meant an ease of motion while you were walking; the skirt was flowy and wouldn’t be too heavy in the summer heat. You choose gold-heeled boots instead of high-heels, not wanting to worry about tottering down the aisle. You had assumed you were all set when you left the bridal salon. You didn’t find the two-piece look until you went back for your dress fitting. You’d been toying with the idea of a separate reception dress, and you’d spotted the jumpsuit on your way into the salon. Your maid of honor hadn’t even bothered to try to talk you out of it - she knew she’d never win. Benny had loved your dress when he saw it, but when he saw your reception outfit? “... I married the smartest fucking woman-- Holy shit, it has pockets?”

Frankie Morales - Princess-y Ballgown

Frankie had thought about his wedding day - a lot. So had you. You just hadn’t realized that the both of you had considered what you would be wearing so much. You had bought a couple of bridal magazines and you kept them around to flip through for inspiration; every once in a while, when you were looking through one, he’d lean over your shoulder and mutter, “That one’s nice.” Sometimes you’d open a magazine to find a page with a ballgown on it dog-earred. The first couple of times that this happened, you’d figured that you’d done it and just forgotten. The fifth time, though, you’d held it up, showing it to Frankie. “Did you mark this for me, babe?” You asked. He glanced at it, muttered, “Might’ve,” Before slouching down on the couch a little more and turning back to the tv. Hint hint, Future-Mrs. Morales. You were surprised at how strongly he felt about you wearing a ballgown-style wedding dress. You wanted to look hot; he wanted you to look like a princess. To him, you were one. You didn’t think you wanted a ballgown. But, since he’d mentioned it, you decided to try one on when you went shopping. You fell in love with it the second you saw yourself in it. The strapless sweetheart top and a lacy, partially see-through bodice was a little bit sexy; the full, layered, lacy skirt made you feel the way Frankie saw you: like a princess. You got the best of both worlds. Frankie’s mom lent you her veil, giving you your something borrowed; your mother gifted you the necklace she wore on her wedding day, giving you your something old. Your shoes and your dress were your something new, and your flowers were your something blue. Frankie cried when he saw you coming down the aisle. Santiago teased him about it, but he didn’t care. You’d never looked more beautiful. Santiago Garcia - Alluring Mermaid Dress

Santiago did not think he was ever going to get married. You knew that. That was why you hadn’t expected him to be such a Groomzilla. Alright, maybe ‘Groomzilla’ was an exaggeration, but Santiago was kind of...Particular when it came to the things that he wanted - even more particular than you were.

“Are you gonna micro-manage my dress, too?” You’d been teasing him when you’d asked that. He didn’t even look away from the email he was sending to the caterer. “If that’s a serious question then yeah, I have some thoughts,” He’d said. It had definitely not been a serious question, but you did want to see what he had in mind. Santiago had sent the email off, then tugged you into his lap and pulled up a folder on his laptop labeled ‘Wedding Ideas’ (which you'd had no idea he had - but it really shouldn’t have surprised you; Santiago was a planner, through and through). The dresses he’d looked at were sexy, bordering on skimpy. “You know my family will faint if they see me in that,” You’d told him after he’d clicked on one dress that was entirely see-through, save for some expertly placed lace, “That looks more like lingerie than a wedding dress-- what kind of underwear am I even supposed to wear with that?” “Who says you have to wear any?” Santiago countered. The pictures that he’d shown you had been fresh in your mind when you’d gone shopping for dresses. You’d had ideas of what you’d wanted to wear, and you wanted to find a happy medium between your preferences and his. In this dress, you did. It had a sexy-ish top, and a form-fitting silhouette that showed off your body. Santiago broke out into the widest grin when he saw you walking down the aisle. He broke into a wider one when you pinched his shoulder during your first dance, after he whispered to you, “So where did we net out on the underwear situation?” Tom Davis - Classic A-Line V-Neck

Tom wasn’t against getting married again, obviously, but he didn’t want to make it a massive deal. He already did the big wedding thing once. You knew that he was a little trepidatious about the process. He told you while you’re planning that he was fine, but he was a little more tense than usual in the months leading up to it. You did your best to involve him in the planning without overwhelming him with it, and when you asked him what kind of dress he'd like to see you in, he was surprised. He wasn’t involved in that process last time. He asked you to let him think about it, and you agreed. You found out after the fact, of course, that Tom, in typical Tom fashion, had been incredibly thorough: did research on different silhouettes, wedding trends over the last five years -- he even took undergarment types into consideration. But when he’d come back to you, he’d simply said that he wanted you to wear whatever you’d be happiest in; it was your day. You’d frowned, cupped his cheeks, and said, “Sweetheart, it’s ours.” He’d nearly cried. Tess was with you when you’d found the dress. The two of you got along well, and you’d been involving her in the wedding planning where you could. Your maid of honor hadn’t been able to get the day off of work, and you hadn’t wanted to go alone. You’d tried on a few dresses, with varied silhouettes and fabrics. You were hesitant to try on something that seemed a little more plain on the hanger, but this satin A-line ivory dress had caught your eye. Tess had helped you accessorize, and suggested a belt that had given the look just the right amount of bling. “Do you think your dad will like it?” You’d asked uncertainly. Tess had met your eyes on the mirror. “Do you love it?” She’d asked. You’d nodded, and she’d smiled and said, “Then so will he.”

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pandoraborn · 4 years ago

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BORN TO RISE Chapter 3 (also found on ao3)

----------

“Okay, so let’s try this again from the beginning,” Bad says as he dumps all the excess items into a hole. “You were paying attention, right?” There’s iron, excess dirt, excess cobblestone, and even food being dropped down. He wants Tommy to really understand, and the less items they start off with, the better off they’ll be. He even wears a smile as he turns to face Tommy, who’s only armed with a single block of wood. Bad had allowed Tommy to keep a few iron ingots on him, feeling bad over everything that happened previous to now.

“Yes, yes, I got it. You’ve repeated yourself three times now,” Tommy says with exasperation. He doesn’t look too frazzled though, but he’s staring down at the discarded items. He almost looks like he’s ready to grab them, so as a precaution, Bad grabs a single dirt block and places it over the hole. “Oh come on Bad, I wasn’t. You know what? You’re still a dick. I know how to speedrun, you don’t have to baby me.”

“I’m just making sure!” Bad kicks at the dirt before clearing his throat. “Okay, so I’m going to have Sapnap use a timer, and I’ll give you the go time and end time. You’ll have-

“Wait, hold on here, are we starting already? I’m not ready! What do I have to do?”

“No no, it’s okay Tommy.” Bad points to the wood block in Tommy’s hands. “You can start with that and the iron I left you. It’ll be okay. I want you to craft an iron set of tools within ten minutes. It’ll be easy to start, just remember to only get what you think you need, and nothing more.”

“I mean, if you’re sure.” Tommy sucks in a deep breath as he rocks on his heels, turning to face a different direction. “Wait, where do I go? Are you chasing me?”

“No, I won’t be chasing you. We’re timing you this round.”

“So all that stuff about me being hunted before, was that a lie? Am I still being hunted?”

“You know, I don’t really know.” Bad shrugs. “You were supposed to be, but I don’t know what happened with that. Maybe the hunting part is taking a break so we can focus on your timing.” He steps back to give Tommy room before tapping at his headset. “Sapnap?”

“Don’t worry, I’m on it. Tommy, I’m starting the timer right now. Ten minutes, go.”

There’s a faint beep that sounds, and then Tommy is jumping to action. Bad has to hand it to the kid, when Tommy gets focused on something, he doesn’t seem to argue the point. He’s actually getting to work, punching out wood and making a crafting table. It’s at this point Tommy starts to slow. Bad doesn’t say anything, he’s just watching quietly. He’s aware that Sapnap and George are probably watching over the cameras as well, but he doesn’t bother asking for them.

There’s a wooden pickaxe now, followed by a wooden axe. Bad doesn’t really see why Tommy needs the axe, but at least materials aren’t being wasted.

“Oh, wait.” Tommy stops right after he moves away from the table. “I meant to craft sticks, I didn’t mean to make an axe. What am I even doing? Bad, why didn’t you stop me? This is all your fault, you know.”

“Oh, sure, okay.” Bad snorts, shaking his head. Tommy’s tossing the axe to the side and quickly making more sticks, before heading over to the bottom of the cliff towering over the pair. “Remember, you only have ten minutes.”

“Shut up, stop it, I know.” Tommy shoots a quick glare in Bad’s direction before beginning to mine away at the stone. He digs a small hole, already finding coal, before digging down. At least he’s moving quickly. “Hey Bad, can you just say fuck once for me?”

“Language.”

“Sorry.”

There’s a silence that falls over the both of them as Tommy mines deeper into his hole, and deeper underground. Bad remains on the surface as he stares at the hole, watching as a faint light flickers inside. Tommy must’ve found coal to make torches. He taps his fingers impatiently against the stone, wondering how much time is actually left.

“Five minutes, Tommy. How’re you doing?”

“Sapnap, can I punch you in the face just once?” Comes Tommy’s reply. “Just once, just to see how you like it. Maybe twice if I like it. Maybe Dream will even point and laugh. See, he likes me a lot more than he likes you.”

“Punching me isn’t nice, Tommy. Stay focused, okay?”

“Shut up. I’m coming back up. Wait, shit, I’m l..wait, no. No, shut up. I know exactly where I am. Techno taught me how to be the ‘Uman GPS, you know. He’s my brother.”

“We just want to make sure you’re staying on task,” Bad says gently. “We know you’re capable otherwise. You haven’t updated us on your progress.”

“I don’t have to update anyone. I don’t have to say shit about anything. I know exactly what I’m doing, I know how to speed run. You’re all just pussies who can’t handle the big man anymore.”

At least Tommy no longer sounds like he’s in a bad mood. Bad would have to consider this progress. Unless Tommy is getting better at hiding it. Then again, he does seem a little more willing to listen and stick to tasks, maybe. It’s hard to tell what he’s doing when he’s down a hole with only five minutes to spare.

“Tommy, what’s your progress?” Bad pushes. “I don’t want to see you run out of time with only stone to your name.”

“I’m making my way back up, Bad. Christ, you’re so naggy. Has anyone ever mentioned that you nag too much?”

“That’s a little harsh, Tommy.” Bad rubs his forehead as he closes his eyes. He’s not going to let Tommy’s words get to him.

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking man. Oh, whoops, I don’t want to slip down there, that looks like a big hole.”

“Are you alright down there?” Bad isn’t sure if he should rush down to try and find Tommy or remain on the surface. Probably best to stay up here.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine, Bad. I’m making my way back up to the surface. Are you still stood by there?”

“Yeah, I haven’t left. I’m waiting for you to come back up. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Two minutes.”

“I’m coming! Just hang on, both of you!” Tommy sounds almost out of breath, as if he’s rushing. It’s a few seconds before Bad hears dull thudding on the stone below, followed by Tommy rushing back out into fresh air with an arm full of iron ingots. “It’s not time yet. Sapnap, don’t you dare call time. I can still craft them just-”

He cuts himself off, running back toward his crafting table and dropping the iron down. He grabs more wood, turning it into sticks, and then slapping the iron onto the sticks to form tools.

“Three, two one. Tommy, it’s time.”

“Done!” Tommy stands back proudly, beckoning Bad forward. “A set of iron tools Bad. Pickaxe, axe, sword, shovel. Done. Look, see? I’m a big man, I got so much stuff done in ten minutes. I know how to manage myself. I’m awesome.”

Bad claps, unable to wipe the smile from his face. “You did great Tommy! I was honestly worried you wouldn’t make it in time, but you actually pulled it off.”

“I can’t believe you doubted me. You’re such an asshole.” Tommy huffs as he picks up the axe and starts mining away at the trees. “So what are we doing now? Am I going to have to mine for more iron?”

“No no no, hey, Tommy, you don’t need more wood. We’re not hoarding items. What I want you to do now is to go find food. We’re going to push forward. Take the craft-”

“Why can’t I take the wood? What if I need it?”

Bad steps forward, pressing his hand to Tommy’s arm to pull the axe away from the tree. “Easy, Tommy. You can always get more wood later when you need it. The point of a speed run is to keep a minimal inventory, because you want to constantly be on the go. You get it?”

“Ooh, yeah, yeah. Bad, there’s a desert over there. Do you reckon we could find a village or a temple in there?” Tommy points off in the direction of the desert. “I was going to head over there earlier, but then you all started yelling over the headset and giving me a headache. It was pissing me off, you know. I wanted to stab shit.”

“First off, you can try being a little nicer. We already apologized for what happened.” Bad doesn’t push the issue after that, figuring it’s just Tommy being his usual self. He has to remind himself that Tommy probably still does hold some resentment, and he’s within his rights to feel that way. He decides to address the exploration though. “It wouldn’t hurt to go check out the desert though. I can keep you on task, and we can pretend someone’s hunting us down.” Bad follows where Tommy’s pointing. “Could pretend Dream is hunting you.”

“Where has Dream been anyway? I haven’t heard from him at all. He’s not abandoned you, has he?” Tommy starts walking, but turns around to face Bad as he speaks. He’s wearing a concerned expression on his face that almost seems to hide a smile. “I’m your new leader, aren’t I?”

Bad laughs. “No Tommy, you’re not the new team lead. You’re not even on the team. We want you though, we just have to make sure you’re focused.”

“I bet I’m more focused than all of you combined,” Tommy brags. “I got a full set of iron tools in ten minutes. Just as you wanted. Bet none of you can do that.” He laughs at his own comment. Bad has to admit, Tommy is carrying himself a little taller. Still shorter than Bad by a couple of feet, but he’s standing straighter and looking pleased with himself. Bad feels some sort of strange affection for the kid, wondering if praise is all Tommy really needs. He does seem to respond rather well to it.

“I bet so too,” Bad says absently. He motions for Tommy to turn around and walk forward, which he does. “What else do you want training in, other than speedrunning? Because we could do a lot more once we’re done here.”

“I’m excellent in Sky Battle,” Tommy replies proudly. “I kicked Dream’s ass there.”

“We were there, remember?” It’s easy to be perky now. It’s far easier to talk when Tommy isn’t threatening him or swearing at him every few words. “You did great, we were all proud of you.”

“Yeah?” Tommy spins around again. “I was so focused on everything happening, I didn’t think to look for the rest of you. Were you really watching me?”

“Yeah! We all got to see your big moment in person. You were excellent out there.”

“You know what? Maybe you’re not so bad.” Tommy faces forward again, picking up his speed as they enter the desert. Bad tries to shrug off the rise in temperature as he continues to follow. He’s already scanning the horizon for any structures they could potentially run across, but so far, all he’s seeing is sand piles.

“You think so?” Bad asks. “Tommy, are you starting to like me?”

“Ew, no! Bad, keep it in your pants. Jesus man, I’m a child.” Tommy’s grinning as he speaks, which makes it clear he’s just teasing. Bad doesn’t feel tense with the joke either.

“Not like that Tommy,” Bad wheezes. “You’re not bad, for being a teenager. You’re pretty funny.”

“Wait, really?” Tommy looks surprised by that. “You actually think I’m funny?” He slows his step, turning his head to watch as Bad catches up to him. “Usually people tell me to shut up, but they laugh at me at the same time, so I can’t really tell anymore.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty silly,” Bad says with a nod. “I think sometimes you push things too far, but given your age, it’s expected. I don’t mind spending time with you.” He scans the horizon again, before waving his hand vaguely toward the left. “Also, there’s a temple over there.” “You should lead the way,” Tommy says. “Make sure there aren’t any traps around. You never know when sand will just fall beneath your feet, and honestly? Better you than me.” He stops walking completely, then beckons for Bad to start walking.

“This is your training though,” Bad protests. “You should take the lead.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what I’m doing, so I want you to show me the ropes. Go on then.” Tommy shoots him a too-wide smile as he sweeps his arm again. “After you, Badboyhalo.”

“Alright, if you say so.” It’s Bad’s turn to straighten up, walking with a little more ‘pep in his step’, as Tommy would say. It’s hard to stay serious and focused when Tommy is being optimistic and funny. He’s definitely growing on Bad.

“Tommy, why don’t you tell me about yourself? I barely know you, and if we’re going to spend time together, I’d like to know a little more about you.” He marches toward the temple, impressed by the size. It’s half buried under sand, but it’s nothing overwhelming. He can easily dig sand out with his bare hands, while leaving Tommy to do most of the heavy lifting.

In fact, Bad’s already getting to work on clearing out sand and tossing it to the side.

“Oh, what do you want to know?” Tommy asks. “Just to be clear, are you asking about me, or are you asking about my dad and Techno?”

Bad frowns as he pauses his digging to face Tommy. Tommy’s face is neutral, he’s digging out sandstone and tossing them to the side, much like Bad had done. There’s that same flash of anger that had been in his posture earlier, so Bad quickly shakes his head, realizing that he’s about to tread on some dangerous ground.

“No, I’m asking about you. I love your family, but I want to know more about you. What you’re into, what you like, and what got you interested in competitions and tournaments. What drives TommyInnit?”

“Oh.” There’s a somber tone to Tommy’s voice at the question. “No one’s ever asked about me before.” He swings his pickaxe a little harder than normal. “I like spending time with Wilbur. He likes to play music sometimes, so I like to sit at night and listen to him sing and play his guitar. I like video games too. Simple ones, mostly. Most of my time is either spent in classes or in training.”

“Do you spend a lot of time training? Where do you usually train at?”

“We don’t have our own training grounds. We’re not rich you know.” Tommy shrugs as he mines down the center of the temple. “How many diamonds do you think we’ll find? Ooh, if we find a saddle or horse armor, can I keep it?”

“Careful not to hit the pressure plate at the bottom,” Bad warns. He can’t follow Tommy down; the drop would cause him to respawn too far from Tommy. “And...sure. If you really want a horse, I don’t see why you can’t tame one.” He sits on the edge and looks down, watching Tommy rummage through the chests at the bottom.

“What else do you want to know about me? Are you surprised I like horses? I’m not really a pet person, honestly. Though I can see the appeal behind them. Personally, I’d want a dog.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bad nods, even though Tommy can’t see him. “I have a dog, you know. Her name’s Rat.”

“You should show me a picture. I want to see what this dog of yours looks like. Also I’m coming up.”

Bad leans forward into the darkness. Tommy’s making his way back up, and in the singular lighting of the torch Tommy’s holding, Bad can see a smug grin on the boy’s face. “Did you find anything good down there?” Bad asks.

“Three diamonds, gold horse armor, two emeralds, and lots of wheat. I’m going to assume there’s a village not too far away. Is trading allowed in speed running?”

“Oh, yeah of course!” Bad gets to his feet, then bends over to hold his hand out. “Let me pull you up the rest of the way. I don’t think we’ll have trouble finding the village. I’m going to see if I can’t pull some strings and get Sapnap-”

“I’m going to get yelled at by Dream for helping you.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Bad laughs, then makes sure Tommy’s on solid ground. “We’re only training, it’s not anything serious. Can you give us a village please?”

“I guess. Just as long as you don’t tell Dream. There’s a village about an hour off. I hope the two of you have fun.” The line goes dead after he finishes, leaving Tommy and Bad in an awkward silence.

“An hour isn’t...I don’t…” Tommy scowls. He’s clenching his pick axe more tightly in his fists, so Bad just presses his hand to Tommy’s back, hoping to distract him.

“Tommy, Tommy, hey. Keep telling me about yourself. What else do you do that doesn’t involve championships?” Tommy takes a long moment to calm himself. He’s walking though, gaze focused forward, clearly trying to shut Bad out until he gets a hold of himself. Bad is happy to wait until Tommy’s ready to talk.

It’s ten minutes before Tommy’s shoulders finally untense. He exhales, rolling his head from side to side. “Sorry, I didn’t want to swear at you. I just don’t understand the point of this anymore, if I’m just going to have to walk everywhere and not actually make progress in going to The End.”

“That’s fa-....wait. You didn’t want to swear at me?” Bad blinks in surprise. “Since when? You usually can’t wait for a chance to swear at people.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been nice to me lately, and I don’t really want to yell at you because I’m mad at Sapnap.” Tommy shrugs, keeping his gaze downturned. “I also don’t know what else to talk about. I’m the youngest in my family and I have big shoes to fill.”

Tommy’s not joking anymore, he’s not swearing, he’s not even wearing a smile. Bad knows this time Tommy’s good humor is lost. Maybe the novelty of something exciting had finally worn off, leaving a tired teenager in its place. Bad feels bad all over again, but nothing now can help other than some conversation.

“You’re pretty good on your own Tommy. I love seeing you in action.”

“Tell me more about yourself instead.” Tommy nods, while still marching forward. “Tell me about your life, who you spend time with. I daresay you don’t spend a ton of time with your own team, do you?”

“You’d be right. My best friend is Skeppy. I also really like spending time with Antfrost. We like to play pranks on each other, do random things.”

“Is all your time spent training too? Are you always out here? Or do you have your own training grounds?” Tommy is at least trying to sound more cheerful than he looks. Still, Bad wonders if this was too much. He wonders if Tommy even slept well overnight, or if he’s just pushing himself.

The more Bad stares, the more exhausted he realizes Tommy looks.

“No, like you I’m not always training. Who’s your closest friend, if not Wilbur?”

“Tubbo and Timedeo, mostly. I spend a lot more time with Tubbo though. He likes to play the piano.” There’s a flicker of a smile on Tommy’s face now. “I bet Tubbo would enjoy being here.”

“You already miss him?” Bad asks. “I didn’t think you were the sentimental type; it’s only been about a day or two.”

The smile drops from Tommy’s face instantly. “Let’s just walk, okay? I don’t feel like talking anymore.”

Bad doesn’t argue. If Tommy’s in a bad mood, he’s not going to push it. He’s probably done too much pushing lately, and he doesn’t want to damage the newly forming bond they have. It’s probably not just Sapnap that’s gotten to Tommy either, but something else.

They spend the next couple of hours finding the village. It’s on the edge of the desert and a savannah, along with a savannah village not too far off, either. It’s a lucky find, but it’s still not enough to snap Tommy out of his funk.

“Bad, can we take a nap?” Tommy asks. “I want to take a break.” He’s already heading for one of the huts. “I think there’s a double bed in here too.”

“Sure, Tommy.” Bad follows him. “You tired? Do you need food?”

“I’m not hungry. I just want to lie down for awhile.” Tommy enters the hut and flops down on one of the beds. He sets all his things down on the floor next to his bed, ignoring as Bad settles on the other bed. He lies down, kicking the blankets to the edge and away from him.

Bad isn’t quite tired, but he wonders if a nap will help him focus more, too. He pulls his headset off and rests it on the nearest nightstand. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Not really,” comes the muted reply. “I just wanna make them proud.”

How is Bad supposed to respond to that? He continues staring at Tommy’s prone form, long after Tommy’s fallen asleep. That same guilt twists his gut again, but instead of doubting Tommy, he wonders if Tommy has any faith in himself.

He hopes so.

#mcyt #manhunters verse #born to rise #born to rise fic #badboyhalo #tommyinnit #sapnap #mcyt fanfiction #chapter fanfic #born to rise ch.3 #bonding #friendship #fluff #long post #miishae writes

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ilovefandoms102 · 4 years ago

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Part 14*

Summary: The Pogues go back to the Crain mansion to get the gold..what could possibly go wrong?

Taglist:

@ma10427 @lasnaro @certainstatesmantoadartisan @iamaunicorn4704 @riverdaleserpent04 @justcallmesams @sspidermanss @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @hurricane-abigail @outerbongs @gviosca @eb15

Part 13 Part 15

Note: Hope you guys have enjoyed this series as much as I have writing it! It means the world to me when you guys message me about how much you like this story, I was so nervous to post it and didn’t expect to get so much positive feedback. Thank you so much to every single person who has read this!

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JJ and I headed back to the chateau, reluctantly of course. My brother decided tonight would be the night we went and retrieved the gold from the Crain mansion. He wouldn’t stop calling both JJ and I, so we had to cut our date shorter than either of us would have liked.

“What if all we find is the remains of Mr.Crain?” JJ asked, nervously biting his lip.

“Would you stop with that shit babe, Mrs. Crain did not kill her husband.” I said rolling my eyes at him.

“The only reason I’m even stepping foot near that place again is to get that gold.” JJ said.

“J, she’s not even going to know we’re there. She can’t hear or see.” I said, driving the boat to the dip by the chateau so JJ and I could drag up on the mainland.

“She’s bat shit crazy, probably has like spidey senses or some shit babe” JJ said, helping me to pull the boat up.

We walked into the chateau, my brother and Sarah sitting in the kitchen. I went into my room and changed into all black, tossing my old clothes in the hamper. I was a little chilly, so I threw on one of JJ’s sweatshirts.

“Pretty sure that’s mine” JJ said, coming in and throwing his stuff on his side of my room. He walked over closer to me, eyeing my outfit.

“Pretty sure I do the laundry around here so I have a right to wear what I want” I sassed back.

“You look hot in my clothes baby” he smiled, leaning down to kiss me. I chuckled, walking out of my room to the kitchen.

“So what’s the plan Bird?” I asked my brother.

I took out some things from around the kitchen to make stir fry. It being the cheapest thing I could buy and easy to make. I listened to John B, JJ and Sarah discussing the plan.

“We’ll have to create a pulley so that I can be lowered down to get the gold.” John B said.

“How are we supposed to get 250 pounds of gold out?” Sarah asked.

“No way should we get all of it at once” JJ said.

“Yeah, we need to just find one piece to take to someone and they can tell us how much it is. No reason to try and get it all if it’s not worth anything.” I said.

“Is it even safe to talk to anyone around here?” Sarah asked, irritating me with all her questions.

“I’m confused to why you’re still here?” I asked.

“Bubba, please” John B said, looking at me pleadingly.

“No John B, I’m not going to let some Kook tramp break your heart if this gold isn’t what everyone thinks it is.” I said, roughly placing things on the counter. I turned around to look at them. Sarah looking at the table and JJ giving me a ‘please stop’ look.

“She wants to help us, why is that not enough for you?” John B asked, he walked over to me and turned us to where our backs were facing JJ and Sarah.

“You are crazy if you think she’s not trying to set us up John Booker Routledge” I whispered.

“She’s not! I love her bubba, please just trust me. I promise you that is not her intentions.” he said.

“Birdie...” I sighed.

“Let me decide who is and isn’t good for me, please.” he said, gripping my hand.

“Alright...but I’m still kicking her ass if she fucks with you” I said, moving back to the stove to continue cooking.

“I love you” JJ said, coming up behind me and wrapping me in his arms.

“You love me because I’m feeding you Maybank,” I joked, playfully pushing him away.

I finished dinner and we sat and ate. We got the stuff we needed to take to the Crain mansion. We piled in the van, picking up Kie and Pope on the way there. I was driving with JJ in the passenger seat, he was a nervous wreck. We got to the mansion, getting the stuff together before John B stopped us all.

“I just want to say, thank you guys. It means a lot for you guys to be here.” he said looking at each of us.

“Of course” Kie said, laughing.

“Always” Pope said, doing a handshake with my brother. Sarah blushing and looking down.

“Alright are we done with the circle jerk?” JJ asked, throwing the rope over his shoulder.

“I’m only here because I feel obligated as your older sister” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Two minutes” John B huffed.

We made our way over the ledge and walked towards the middle of the yard. We started making our way towards the back side of the house when lights came on. We made a run by one of the trees and ducked under the taller bushes.

“So she has motion sensor lights” Pope said.

“Let’s throw a rock at them” JJ said, I looked over at him raising my brow.

“Are you dumb?” I asked sarcastically.

“What are we going to do about the light?” Kie asked.

“There’s and electrical box by the porch, I can just go up and turn it off” Sarah said. We all looked at her confused. “We used to come here and play hide and seek” she explained.

“No way, you’re not going up there” John B said.

“Can you chill, she’s going to the porch” I said.

“No” he said.

“Watch me” Sarah said.

“I’ll come with you” Kie said. I was glad she went because I’m sure my brother would have made me go if Kie hadn’t offered.

“Hey, be safe” John B said.

“We will” Kie said.

As they walked away I grabbed JJ’s face.

“Be safe” I said mocking JB.

“I’ll be so safe baby” he said, putting his hand on my cheek.

“Can you guys shut up” John B said irritably.

“But how will we be safe?” I asked jokingly. JJ, Pope, and I cracking up at ourselves. John B not finding it funny and heaving our stuff towards the back.

We entered the side of the house where the basement was, setting up our equipment. John B and I moving the planks where the well was while Pope and JJ set up the pulley.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked my brother.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean, you just got out of the hospital. I can go down and you stay with the guys.” I said.

“Bubba, I’ll be fine” he said, now adjusting the rope and harness.

JJ, Pope, and I lowered John B down into the well.

“Please, for the love of God, don’t drop me” John B said.

“No promises” I mumbled.

We were struggling hard, trying to adjust to get a good system going. JJ slipping, the rope losing slack and causing me to fall from having to grip the rope tighter.

“JJ!”I yelled.

“I told you not to drop me!” John B yelled.

“Beggars can’t be choosers” I yelled back.

We lowered the rope more, still struggling since the rope was super thin and my brother wasn’t exactly the lightest human.

“Ok, I’m at the bottom” John B said.

“What do you see bub?” I asked.

“Is Mr. Crain down there?” JJ asked, earning a smack on the head from me.

“BUBBA PULL ME UP! JJ! POPE!” John B screamed all of the sudden.

We all jumped into action, pulling as fast as we could.

“Hold on Birdie!” I yelled.

“What’s going on John B?” Pope asked.

“Wait, wait!” John B said.

“What is it?” JJ asked.

“I found something hold on” he said.

Then, Sarah and Kie come barreling down the stairs. They looked terrified, like they had seen a ghost. Kie running to hug Pope, and Sarah coming to grab my arm, holding on to me. We heard John B talking but none of us could make out what he was saying.

“What is he saying?” Kie asked.

“We need to go!” Sarah yelled.

We all started pulling John B up, a gunshot ringing out and breaking the pulley. We all fell forward, losing the rope.

“John B climb up!” Pope yelled.

We saw Mrs. Crain with a shotgun, she rang out another shot all of us ducking. JJ grabbed me and ducked us in a corner, Pope joining us while Kie and Sarah went to the opposite of where we were. She shot the gun again, all of us darting out the door and to the van.

“She’s blind as fuck how is she wielding a shotgun?!” JJ shouted, tugging on my hand as we ran.

“That bitch can’t aim that’s for sure.” I said, laughing.

JJ jumped into the drivers seat with me being the passenger this time. The rest of the crew following behind, throwing themselves in the van. JJ took off, all of us looking behind for my brother. And sure, enough he comes running, throwing himself in.

“What the hell just happened?” Sarah asked.

“Why are we always getting shot at?!” Pope asked, throwing his arms out.

“JB you smell like straight up asshole” I said, scrunching my nose up.

“I did it” he said, holding up a gold bar.

“No fucking way!” I shouted.

“You did not!” JJ said, looking back at John B.

“Oh my God guys, we’re gonna be rich!” Kie exclaimed.

“Full Kook!” Pope yelled.

We whooped and hollered the whole way down the road back to the chateau. JJ grabbed my hand and kissed it, his excitement warming my heart. We got back in one piece, Sarah cleaning the van where John B was. I took the liberty of hosing him.

“You got me messed up if you think you’re about to take one step in my house.” I said, forcing him to stand by the hose.

“Bubs come on” John B sighed.

I sprayed him thoroughly, JJ bringing him a towel. He stripped down to his underwear, tying the towel by his waste and threw me his wet clothes. I hung them on the porch before walking back inside. I closed the door in my room before looking back at JJ. He smiled so wide before running at me to pick me up and spun me around. I squealed, hugging him tight, and throwing my legs around his waist.

“We’re gonna be rich baby” JJ said, looking up at me.

“It’s all real now J, I can’t believe we actually have it” I said, leaning my forehead against his. He fell back on the bed with me on top of him.

“I’m building us a big ass house, right on the beach.” JJ said, running his fingertips up and down my arms.

“My only request is that we also have a huge pool, and a hot tub” I said, smiling down at him.

“I’ll get you whatever you want baby” he said, sitting up to kiss me.

I smiled into his kiss, putting both my hands on his cheeks. His hands going underneath my shirt. I shuddered at the contrast of his warm hands and his cold rings. He began to kiss down my neck, I tilted my head back to give him more space.

“And you know the first thing we’re going to do after I build our house sweets?” he asked, his breath hitting my neck.

“What’s that my love?” I panted, threading my fingers in his hair.

“I’m gonna fuck you on every surface of that house” he growled, biting my neck and sucking at the spot. I gasped, moaning into his ear.

“Properly christening it yeah?” I asked, pulling his head back so I could give him the same treatment.

I bit my mark into his neck, licking up his neck. He grasped at my hips and flipped us over. We tore our clothes off, JJ rolling on a condom before thrusting hard inside me. I moaned loudly, throwing a hand over my mouth when I remembered my brother and Sarah were still here.

“Shhh baby” JJ laughed, leaning down to cover his mouth with mine.

JJ moved at a steady pace at first, thrusting in and out. I moved my legs higher on his waist, getting him to hit that special spot. I threw my head back, dragging my nails down his back. He moaned in my mouth, causing him to thrust faster.

“JJ, baby, please, I need to cum” I pleaded.

JJ obliged, flipping me over on my stomach. Hoisting me up so I was on all fours, he grabbed my hips and started pounding into me. I yelped, throwing my head down to bite at the sheets. He reached under to rub at my clit, I could feel my orgasm coming.

“JJ” I whimpered.

JJ grabbed my hair, pulling my head back to kiss me before starting to pound harder inside me. Silent screams escaped as my mouth hung open and no sounds came out. I screamed his name into my sheets as I collapsed on my bed, JJ being the only thing holding me up. I came hard, feeling JJ growing twitchy before he slammed inside me and stilled.

We went in the bathroom to shower, JJ sitting on the counter afterwords while I did my night routine. We went back into my room, collapsing on the bed. I laid on my back, JJ putting his head on my chest and snuggling into me.

“I love you baby” he mumbled sleepily.

“I love you honey bear” I whispered.

We both fell into a peaceful sleep huddled in each others arms.

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