#we’ve been together for 17 years at this point and there’s no change in sight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dissonancedance · 8 months ago

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I started this as writing practice in preparation to continue my other project, but it's coming together into its own horrific little story so I'll keep posting it here and on AO3.

He wants to hold her. Use comforting her for an excuse to feel her chest quake with each sob and her hot, wet breath brush his skin as she weeps so enticingly. Get her used to the strangeness of her mean uncle caressing her. Let her interpret it as the love she’s always been so open and patient to receive from him. He wonders how her polite, quiet weeping will change when he starts to hurt her.

CW: underage, incest, nonconsensual

Chapter 1: Death

“It’s so beautiful. My family goes every year. Just… idyllic.”

Harvey watches the couple seated at the table behind Rebecca as she speaks. The man is a bit too old and the girl is a bit too young for him to immediately identify their relationship.

“The lakes are just so peaceful, you know? My grandparents have a vacation house close to the water in Skaneateles.”

The man has money, that much he can tell. Enough money that he doesn't need to advertise it with anything obvious, only a very nicely custom tailored suit in current fashion. Harvey hasn't seen him before, though.

“That’s the area they call the ‘jewel of the lakes’ and that's absolutely the vibe. My brothers and sister bring their kids and they are such a blast, just, so adorable.”

The girl, though young and attractive, is not quite young and attractive enough to be a girlfriend or mistress. No wedding ring on either of them, so not a slowly aging trophy wife either.

“You should come. Just for a day, just to get out of the city.”

The man puts his hand on the girl's shoulder and leans in to tell her something that makes her laugh. His eyes crinkle at the edges as he chuckles along with her, more as though the sight of her enjoyment brings him happiness rather than finding his own joke funny. Their easy humor seems comfortable and familiar between them, no pretensions or pretending. Fond and casual, but certainly too intimate for them to be friendly coworkers. Envy crawls into Harvey’s thoughts. Envy not of either the girl or the man, but of the connection between the two. The ability to have that connection.

“And my family would just love to meet you, they're all super chill. What do you think?”

Harvey looks back at Rebecca's hopeful, nervous smile and says, “I think I don't want to be around children.”

The waiter arrives before she can produce a point to nullify this reason for his rejection and she shifts her attention to her dish for the waiter’s benefit. The moment the waiter leaves them, however, she picks up her fork and continues.

“We don't have to be around them, I mean, it's not like a kid-focused thing, you know?”

His phone vibrates in his pocket, but his hope for a distraction from this topic dies when he sees the Nebraska area code. He declines the call and sets the phone on the table.

“We can just go wine tasting with just my parents or just meet them for dinner.”

Just, just, just, just, just, just, just, just, just. Harvey blinks away the urge to display his annoyance. She has his answer, it just isn't the one she wanted.

“I just mean…” she starts.

The phone buzzes and lights up with that same number.

She tries to continue, “... we’ve been dating-”

Harvey picks up the phone. “Harvey Sullivan.”

“Harvey! It's Roscoe. How've you been?”

It's been four years since he’s gotten a call from his father's lawyer. The exact same jocular greeting before being told of his father's death.

“I’ve been good,” Harvey answers, watching in amusement as Rebecca somehow manages to inject passive aggressiveness into the way she's holding her fork, “but I have the feeling I'm about to be less good. What happened?”

“Straight to the point, huh?” Roscoe chuckles, the sound trailing off with a groan. “Well. It’s your mother. She, uh, she's passed. I'm sorry.”

“Oh.” Harvey tries to sound surprised. Part of him is; Nancy was only 49, just 17 years older than him. “When? How?”

“An hour ago. Tabby called for an ambulance when Nancy couldn't get out of the bathtub this morning. Had a stroke. Had a few more on the way to the hospital. She hung in there for a while, but, um… She's gone.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. I'm real sorry, Harv. This is such a shit way to find out.”

“No, no, thank you for calling to let me know, Roscoe. So, there's going to be a funeral I-”

“I'm handling all that. Looking at holding the service on Friday at Holy Light. Tabby’s gonna stay with me and Barb for now. Poor little girl is taking this hard.”

“Yeah. Well, alright. I should be able to take next Friday off.”

“If you can come any sooner, it would be a comfort to her.”

“To who?”

“To Tabby!"

“Oh, right. Tabitha. She knows you better though, I don't think there's much I can do for her.”

“I'm not blood. I know you're busy, you've got your own life. It would mean a lot to the kid to have her uncle here, that's all.”

“I’ll be there. Not likely before Friday. Maybe Thursday night.”

“Work on it, okay? Let me know because I have to get the paperwork in order.”

“I'll let you know.”

“Alright. Well, I've got a lot of phone calls to make.”

“Sure. Thanks for calling, Roscoe.”

“Oh! One more thing before I let you go, Harv. The place you're at now has two bedrooms, right?”

Harvey had almost forgotten the frequent non-sequiturs of his father’s old friend, but old habit kicks in and he answers without question, “That’s correct.”

“Okay, thought so, just wanted to make sure I had that right. I'll talk to you soon.”

“Right. Talk to you then.”

Harvey puts his phone back in his pocket and picks up his fork to resume eating.

Rebecca's souring mood seems to have shifted, her tone carrying a perhaps equally annoying concern as she gently asks, “You're going to a funeral next week?”

“Seems like it.”

“I hope it wasn't anyone you're close to.”

He drags a piece of duck through the sauce artfully drizzled along the rim of the plate. “No. Not really.”

“It's going to be out of town?”

The skin is wonderfully crispy, crackling as his teeth gnash through to the tender meat. “Yes.”

“Where?”

The glass of brunello does well to cut the fattiness from his palate. “Nebraska.”

She smiles. “Nebraska is… nice?”

The new potatoes don't look worth the additional carbs. He cuts into the duck again.

“Well then…” She clears her throat, tries again, “Would you like some company while you’re there, just to keep you from getting bored?”

He glances at her as he pierces another chunk of flesh. There’s already an expectation of disappointment poorly concealed by her smile before he answers, “No.”

The girl at the table behind Rebecca lets out a jokingly scolding exclamation loud enough for him to hear what she says to the man.

“Dad!”

The envy that Harvey felt evaporates. However genuine that connection is, there's nothing as dull to him as fatherhood.

It's only 11:19 by the time Rebecca falls asleep. Harvey takes his clothes into the living room to avoid disturbing her as he dresses, but regardless of how quietly he leaves, she always wakes up at the sound of the door locking. He knows this because she will text him every time. Like clockwork, his phone vibrates as he’s waiting for the elevator.

When will I see you next?

He wonders if he should let her know how annoying this is. If he starts correcting her behavior, he won't stop. He puts his phone back in his pocket. Even if she could be made responsive to correction, she's not worth the work it will take to make her into something more than she is.

There's a chill in the breeze that hints of the approaching autumn. No longer needing to mind the state of his hair, he drives with the windows down, allowing the noise of the city to reach him. Laughter and shouting from the smoking crowd outside of a bar. Psytrance reverberating from a club, the murmuring cacophony from the line outside competing below it. An outlandishly adorned group walking to their next destination, joyously cackling and cursing at each other.

The door to the lobby locks the noise outside behind him, sealing him in a silence interrupted by his footsteps echoing through the cavernous space. He rarely bothers turning on any lights in his apartment. Everything is always exactly how he's left it. He showers in the dark, not needing to see as he works his way down the line of different cleansers arranged on the shelf.

His phone is bright even on the dimmest setting when he checks it. Only 12:29. No missed calls, no new messages. A notification from a fetish hookup app, but it's an event reminder. He could still go out. He could see if anyone he knows is available. He could call Judith, check if she's gotten her hands on any real coke yet.

It's 1:30 when he decides to keep scrolling on his phone until he falls asleep. This works just as well as anything to keep himself from thinking about Home.

The problem with flying to Nebraska is that no one wants to fly to Nebraska, so there are no Friday flights that will allow him to arrive on time. Harvey touches down in Omaha the night before, having left work early to make a flight out of LGA. It takes the Xanax too long to kick in, so he ends up pulling into the gravel lot behind Holy Light of the Gospel Baptist Church only twenty minutes ahead of the funeral. For all the money his parents had given to this church, it still looks like a shabbily-adapted McMansion someone had gutted and put a sign in front of.

The front doors are open, but the lights inside are still off. The morning sunlight pours through the open windows to provide enough for him to see the monstrosity of bouquets propped up around a casket raised in front of the pulpit and, oddly, a large creepy doll standing in prayer next to it. Its mouth moves. For a delirious moment, Harvey wonders if he brought the wrong pills before realizing that’s Tabitha. He walks along the wall, keeping to the darkness so as not to disturb her, stopping just a couple meters behind her.

His niece is still the puny, scrawny runt with unkempt brown hair constrained into two long stupid braids down to her tailbone. Harvey is not sure what 13-year-olds are supposed to look like these days, but she seems unusually small from what he recalls of his childhood classmates. The girls were all within at least a couple inches of 5 feet and fat had been accumulating on their chests for a year or more already. In that frumpy black dress, he can’t tell if she’s even approached the vicinity of puberty, but he’d guess not.

He steps closer to hear her soft, clear voice whispering, “That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me and bend. Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new…”

She stops as his shadow blocks the light pouring over her back and she turns around. This Tabitha is not the impish kewpie doll gremlin he remembers. Big dark doe eyes, fantastic bone structure, delicate chin, prominent cheekbones, small but shapely mouth, symmetrical features, flawless skin. A true gamine beauty still in the bud of its development, but striking despite being so young. Though she's attained this through nothing but the plain luck of genetic roulette and he has absolutely no stake in it, the warmth of pride in being her uncle touches him for the first time.

“Uncle Harvey…” she whispers in astonishment before her dazzling smile crumbles with a sob and she ducks her face into her hands.

Oh, right. Tabitha loved Nancy. Of course she did. She loves everyone, even her horrid grandmother.

He smiles, amused at this silly little creature, and asks, “Am I really that scary, Tabitha?”

She huffs out a short laugh. “I'm sorry, I'm… I'm so happy to see you.”

She sniffs, wipes her face with the handkerchief clutched in her fist, and looks up at him again with pain in her smile and tears shining in her now pink-rimmed eyes. Harvey’s lungs seize up, stunned at the thing he sees in her, invisible but present. This girl, this wide open, honest and artless sincerity shows him something he can't look away from. An intangible thing given an almost material existence from inside her. A nameless thing that calls him to somehow pull it through her and give it form.

The passing curiosity he had of her sharpens into a predatory focus as a prickling shiver sets alight in his gut. The sensation, a sensation he’s rarely if ever felt so strongly for a person, is immediately chased with a terrifying realization that floods the strange unidentified wonder from him. He is… attracted to a child. This is not supposed to happen to him.

He's still reeling from this unwelcome revelation, his stomach clenching and his brain on fire, when she asks, “Is it alright if I hug you?”

No, do not touch her, keep your distance and fix this disgusting glitch.

No, he responds, it's absurd to assume I am affected. It's nothing serious.

He forces himself to calm down. His arms open for her and she steps into them, hugging him around his hips and nuzzling her cheek against his abdomen. Her warmth seeps through his suit to erupt a wave of goosebumps across his skin. She feels even smaller than she looks. He's not sure how to hug someone who is two feet shorter, awkwardly pulling her tighter against him with his hands spanning her upper back. Judging by her shaky, tantalizing sigh that drives this depraved infection deeper, she doesn't seem to mind. He lets his hands slide down her back, his fingers curling around her ribcage, mapping the meager body hidden beneath that modest dress. It would be nothing to lift her up off her feet and embrace her properly, with her legs wrapped around him, her dress hiked up as he–

He should have listened to himself. He's not a pedophile. He is the opposite of a pedophile, he hates kids. She’ll do something obnoxious soon that'll clear up this confusion. He'll become disgusted and annoyed with her as he should be. He disengages the hug and she takes his hand as they part, looking up at him again with such startlingly genuine emotion so nakedly displayed, he looks away in embarrassment as though he'd caught her in a private moment.

“Do you want a moment alone together?” she asks, that dulcet voice intimately low, nearly a whisper.

His lungs seize up for a second time, the blood draining from his face in alarm at how immediately this new abomination within him was known to another. His mind rushes through everything that transpired in the last three minutes. Was it how he looked at her? Did he press her too flush against him? Did his fingers creep into any indecent territory? Panic rises as he can find nothing that would have given him away, no hint of behavior he should have avoided. It’s impossible that she could know the sick way he’s drawn so strongly to her.

And it really is impossible. She’s looking up at him innocently, awaiting his answer with effortless patience. It’s as impossible for Tabitha to know as it is impossible that Tabitha could be so forward and promiscuous to ask him with that intent. He realizes, with a cascade of relief, that she meant alone with his mother’s remains. He’s not disappointed. He won’t allow himself to ruminate on what he would have done to her if she’d meant anything else.

“No,” he answers.

“Do you want to say anything to her before everyone arrives?” she asks.

He tries to be annoyed, only able to put forth an affectation of it. “I’ll do what I want when I want to, kid. You don’t need to prompt me.”

“Okay,” she smiles briefly and releases him. The slide of her fingers gliding under his palm tingles and lingers. He closes his hand into a fist, willing the sweet venom of her touch away. There’s a chance, however unlikely, that he may have accidentally dosed himself with a slight amount of MDMA this morning. He hopes so. “I'm sorry this happened. I’m so sorry, uncle Harvey. I’ve been praying I would see you this year, but…” Her words cut off before she can finish and she ducks into her handkerchief again.

He moves to lean down and reach for her. He can have a little bit of this. Only enough to taste. She might not even know until the day comes that she looks back on how he made her feel and gives what he’s done a name. Violation. Molestation. Defilement. He could do worse. He wants to. Isn’t it enough that he shows this much restraint?

“Harvey! When did you get here? I gotta talk with you about your situation!”

He jerks upright at the raucous of Roscoe’s voice snapping him back into reality. A cold sweat instantly coats him from his scalp to his soles. It was only a daydream. He couldn’t do something like that, not to someone who can’t consent even if they asked for it. That’s not part of what he does. Of what he’s allowed.

“Hello to you too,” he says, only a tad more rudely than he’d normally back talk to the old man.

“Is that Roscoe I hear in there?” an even older man bellows from the entrance.

“Aw, shit,” Roscoe cusses, then winces and gestures vaguely to the illustration of Jesus hanging next to him. “Sorry! Shoot. One second, Milton! We’ll iron everything out later, Harv. Tabbycat, will you hand out the pamphlets? We might as well start letting people sit down. I’ll get the lights!”

#worth keeping #dark fiction #writing #depraved #fiction

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blouisparadise · 4 years ago

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Jealousy, Jealousy | Not Rated | 1163 words

Harry gets jealous when James Corden hold his Louis in his lap and pets him on the Late Late Show. He shows Louis who he belongs to and takes care of him.

2) The X-Factor Judge | Explicit | 1635 words

Harry watches the X-Factor and gets jealous about Brendan jumping on Louis. When Louis gets home Harry reminds him whom he belongs to.

3) Didn’t Know You Had It In You | Explicit | 1807 words

Harry sleeptalks and reveals his kinks which Louis is more than happy to try out.

4) Mine | Explicit | 1979 words

"So you been single for a while now?" Louis gulped as the vibrator slowed down sending a thankful look to Harry before glancing back at the interview who was looking at him with great interest,

"Uhhh yeah," he replied keeping his answer short and brief. He straightened his back shuffling slightly on his chair as the vibrator shifted inside of him hitting his prostate causing him to let out a small gasp as grimaced at the interviewer who just grinned back. She must be an excellent actress or just stupidly oblivious.

5) In The Moment | Explicit | 2611 words

Note: This is part 2 of this series.

Where it's their first time and Harry is being all fluffy and encouraging Louis to say his name and other dirty stuff?

6) Salvation Under My Breath | Not Rated | 2858 words

Louis is pregnant...

...and Horny

7) The Sight of You Brings Forth a Peace In Me | Mature | 3254 words

Louis loses inspiration and goes on a nature walk to find some. The inspiration takes shape in the form of Harry.

8) Put Your Sweet Lips On My Lips | Explicit | 3435 words

Note: Part one of this fic is #23 on this list.

Adjusting to one another’s life came as naturally as the sun rising in the morning and brightening the sky, chasing away the darkness that had dared to lurk in its absence. They did not side step each other, did not second guess their instincts once they were finally together. It was the crash of roaring waves - reckless in their paths - but upon meeting had unified into calm waters in the vast sea.

Living with Harry was like a breath of fresh air. In all his years, Louis had never felt alive. He supposed there was some credit to be given to how devoted Harry was to him. The man would rather step in a raging fire than let him suffer even a trace amount of agony.

9) Fuck U (Even) Betta | Explicit | 3568 words

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

Harry had sensed Louis was getting antsy all day, prodding and poking at Harry’s psyche like a game of mental whack-a-mole, trying to find that one thing that would flip the switch and push Harry over the edge. Even after all these years Louis still thinks he can get a rise, that he can in any way control the scenario. He couldn’t be more wrong.

10) We Act Like Nothing Is Wrong To Avoid What’s In Front of Us | Mature | 4179 words

Louis sends nudes meant for Harry to the wrong person on accident. Harry finds out. Rough sex ensues.

11) Love's First Bite | Explicit | 6135 words

Note: The pairing in this fic is Louis/Zayn.

For Zayn, love was never a part of life’s equation, not when you’re considered a lowly vampire while working in the Vampire’s royalty club, Love’s First Bite. He’s bitter and resentful and sees no point in looking into his past or future. But when Zayn saves a human named Louis, it all changes. He finds something special in him and, more importantly, someone worth giving up everything he holds dear.

12) Your Blueberry Eyes | Mature | 6154 words

Louis tattoos and Harry falls for blues.

13) Blow Me Away | Explicit | 6471 words

Louis likes giving blow jobs.

He doesn't exactly get off on it – he's been with people who properly loved it, and he's not quite that into it – but he doesn't mind the feel or the taste and he really, really likes watching his partner lose it, so getting down on his knees regularly is a no brainer.

Which is why it's a bit frustrating that every time he does, Liam hauls him back up again.

14) Thank You For This Prom Night | Not Rated | 6554 words

Note: This is part 3 of this series.

It's Prom Night. Stuff happens.

15) Can We Make It Anymore Obvious? | Explicit | 6628 words

Five times the boys accidentally walked in on Harry & Louis plus one time they did it on purpose.

16) It's The Way You Love (I Gotta Give It Back To You) | Explicit | 8153 words

Stretching, Louis finally pulled the duvet aside and let his feet fall onto the plush rug at his feet. Louis lived for soft, comfortable, plush things. From the fairy lights and fake plants to his plush robe and thick socks, everything in Louis’ little one bedroom apartment was carefully catered to his whimsical and soft aesthetic.

17) My Eyes Want You More Than A Melody | Explicit | 8315 words

Harry’s brain is short-circuiting at an absolutely awful time, the more expressive side of him is falling to pieces for some reason. The only responses he can give are venerated vibrations and nods, the feeling of Louis’ sweaty skin sliping him further into nothingness. Lightly dewy thighs, so muscular and plush— his lips feel just the same, so dangerously soft, a devious intention lying behind it all. “You’d do anything for me,” Louis mumbles, teeth tugging on Harry’s bottom lip, eyes dragging from his sinfully pink mouth when he lets it go to his hooded green eyes. “Isn't that right, daddy?” Harry whimpers— something that’s so foreign to him— but nods, trailing his hands up his shaved thighs, fingertips passing the hem of the dress.

18) Running Is Different Than Going | Explicit | 9018 words

Note: The pairing is Louis/OMC.

On the run, the last thing Michael expects from a stranger is help. Louis offers him everything he needs so he can keep running, but makes it harder than ever to continue doing so.

19) Quarantine, Baby! | Teen & Up | 9615 words

Note: There is no smut, but it contains mpreg Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

When Harry and Louis get a little too bored in quarantine, they turn to each other for some x-rated entertainment. Then, what starts as a COVID-scare, turns out to be something completely different.

20) Effervescent Horizons | Not Rated | 10676 words

Note: This is part 6 of this series. There is also no smut, but it contains mentions of bottom Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

They go to college together!

21) Moments | Explicit | 10726 words

Looking back, Louis should’ve known that the universe likes to fuck with idiots like him who think they’ve got it all sorted.

Looking back, he should’ve known that the minute he relaxed and let his guard down, when he thought things were going smoothly, that’s when it would hit him.

Looking back, he should’ve known to be on the lookout for a curveball.

He just hadn’t accounted for that curveball to have long legs, green eyes, and dimples; a curveball named Harry Styles.

22) The Blood Is Rare (And Sweet As Cherry Wine) | Explicit | 14270 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #8 on this list.

"Officer, I see you're giving away my secrets already," Harry said as he entered the room.

"It's hardly a secret," Louis accepted the delicate glass, cutting a glance at the man when the underlying scent hit him, "A little early to indulge in such things, isn't it?"

"You've had a long morning, I'm sure. Merely looking after your health, Officer," Harry smiled.

"You don't need to concern yourself with that."

"Someone has to."

23) Violent Delights | Not Rated | 76174 words

Prince Harry is arranged to mate Princess Charlotte, but first he must spend a month completing courting traditions which ends in a mating ceremony. When he arrives to the Tomlinson castle, he finds the forbidden North wing holds that which the family has worked hard to keep secret. Mainly: the sickly sweet Prince Louis, who’s rare gender has forced his family to keep him locked away for his own protection.

24) Truth Behind Golden Eyes | Explicit | 228727 words

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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omgrachwrites · 4 years ago

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After Forever - Prince Hal

Pairing: Prince Hal x Reader

Summary: A year after your marriage to Hal, you reflect on all the adventures you’ve had together and wonder whether his abdicating of the Throne was the right thing to do.

Warnings: fluff, lil bit of angst, mentions of death

Words: 1342

A/N: This is the sequel to 'Her Prince', thank you so much @emmamooney for requesting! Hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think, I love you all! xxx

Soft perfect light filtered through the thicket of trees as you waded through the long grass with your husband to reach the top of the hill. The light washed over Hal’s handsome profile, causing him to glow like a fallen angel and it caused you to gape at him as your chest filled with love and awe. He must have felt your gaze burn into his profile because he looked at you, trying and failing to hide the smile on his face.

“What are you thinking of my love?” he chuckled as he pulled you close and kissed your cheek.

You smiled up at him, “you, I’m always thinking of you,” it was true, even for that year that he’d been away from you, you had thought of almost nothing else.

A few months after Hal had abdicated the Throne for you, he had had an attempt made on his life, which made you feel extremely guilty. The would be assassin was angry that Hal had given up the Throne and thrown England into disarray. As a result of this assassination attempt, the both of you stowed away on a ship headed for Italy. The people of Italy didn’t much care that an English prince had given up his rule, so the both of you were quite safe.

Shortly after, you and Hal got married and after a few unsuccessful tries, you discovered that you were expecting your first child. You and Hal were able to live a comfortable life due to the money you had earned in England and Hal was able to make off with some of his inheritance.

Hal cupped your cheek and kissed you lovingly before he sat with his back against a tree trunk, pulling you in between his legs. He wrapped his strong arms around you, resting a protective hand on your round stomach, “I love you, Y/N,” he kissed your cheek and you could feel his smile.

“I love you too, my darling,” you beamed as you watched the sun set over the hill, turning the sky from a perfect, cloudless blue to a misty pink colour.

Hal’s soft fingers weaved through your hair, gently untangling the knots, “is everything alright, Y/N? You’re quiet today, what’s on your mind?”

With a sigh, you turned to face him and found his gorgeous blue eyes looking into yours, you smiled at him as you cupped his cheeks, feeling the roughness of his growing stubble beneath the pads of your fingertips.

“I’m just thinking that it was over a year ago that you abdicated the Throne for me.”

Hal nodded, polite interest on his handsome face, “yes, my love. What’s your point?”

You busied yourself with pulling up blades of grass, “if it wasn’t for me, you’d be the King of England right now, instead the Throne is being passed around Europe like a collection plate. Was this whole thing worth it?” a couple of months ago, you’d gotten word that Hal’s father had died and despite the fact that he hadn’t been close to his father, Hal didn’t talk for days.

Hal rested a gentle hand on your chin, “Y/N, look at me,” he whispered lovingly and you glanced up at him, your eyes filling up with tears, “my angel, you and our child are the best things to ever happen to me. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t do a thing differently. I love you, Y/N, I would never want to be King if you weren’t beside me as my Queen. We’ve got a good life here and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

You sniffed, your cheeks feeling wet, you had no idea when you had started crying, Hal kissed your forehead as he wiped the tears from your cheeks, “I love you too, Hal.”

Hal grinned and pulled you into his chest, “then let’s talk no more of the past, I brought you here so we could watch the stars, it’s a clear night, my love,” and so you did, you threw your arm across Hal’s stomach and watched the stars, listening with delight as Hal told you every story he knew behind each constellation.

Years Later….

The tension was so thick in the bumpy carriage that you could cut it with a knife as you glared over at Hal. You couldn’t believe him; he could be putting your whole family in danger.

“Is everything alright, mother?” your beautiful 17-year-old daughter, Isabella asked as she glanced up at you from the book she was reading.

With a tight smile, you nodded at Isabella, “everything is well, my darling.”

That was a horrific lie, you and Hal had argued awfully the previous night. The King of France - and now England – had heard talk of you and Hal being alive and he somehow found where you were living. It seemed that in the past 15 years, there was a full scale rebellion in England. The common folk were calling for the daughter of their once beloved Prince Henry, even if you were a peasant.

As a good King should, he listened to his people and had sent for you and Hal to bring Isabella to court to meet his son, Francis. The King wanted to make a love match. You had been very much against it but Hal quickly agreed, his reasoning was that if you rejected the invitation, the King would come after you.

Isabella nodded at you with a small smile as she went back to her book, she was so excited to meet the Prince, blissfully unaware of the possible dangers. Hal had a sorrowful guilty look on his beautiful face that you couldn’t bear to look at. You settled on gazing out of the window at the rolling English countryside. You felt Hal take your hand and he lifted it to his lips to press a warm kiss to your knuckles. You were angry with Hal but you still loved him, you loved him more than anything.

Finally, you arrived in the courtyard of the Palace. As you got out of the carriage, you glanced over at Hal to see him looking up at his old home with a saddened look on his face. You felt awful that he never got the chance to say goodbye to his father.

“Are you alright, Hal?” you muttered to him as you were escorted to the Throne Room by a guard.

A muscle fluttered in Hal’s jaw as he smiled tightly at you, a glimmer of sadness in his eyes, “of course.”

The Throne Room was more beautiful now, there was gold everywhere and portraits lined the walls. Where there was once a wooden floor there was now a wine coloured velvet carpet, leading up to a golden Throne where a smiling handsome older man sat. The sun beamed through the windows, creating tiny little rainbows in the air. The sweet perfume of incense filled the room.

Hal nodded at you and Isabella, and as one you begrudgingly bowed before the King. The King chuckled jovially as he got to his feet and made his way over to the three of you, “please, you need not do that,” he shook Hal’s hand, “welcome back,” he smiled at you and Isabella as he kissed your cheeks and gestured over his shoulder, “may I introduce my son? Prince Francis.”

As you glanced over at the handsome young man, you heard Isabella gasp with delight as the Prince strode towards her and kissed the top of her hand, “charmed, Mademoiselle.”

With a smile, you watched your daughter and the Prince gaze at each other with longing in their eyes. It seemed to be love at first sight, the dread in your heart seemed to evaporate.

Hal pulled you close and whispered into your ear, “are you still angry with me, my love?” he chuckled, pressing a kiss just below your ear.

“You are so lucky I love you,” you laughed, gazing up at him. It seemed like the perfect happy ending to your family’s story.

@ladyblablabla @smiithys

#Prince hal #Hal #prince hal imagine #Prince hal fluff #the hollow crown #prince hal x reader #prince hal x reader insert #prince hal x you #prince hal x y/n #you x prince hal #hal x reader #Hal x reader insert #hal x y/n #hal x you #you x hal #tom hiddleston #Au #Royal au

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kyberconfessions · 4 years ago

Text

No Matter Where You Go, I Will Find You. Part 4

Hello All! Sorry for the delay! My Hubby and I have had a busy month of July and I wasn’t able to keep to my schedule like I wanted too. Sorry about that. From Baseball games to Comic-Cons to Disney trips, we’ve been stupid busy. I am working furiously on the other chapters and hope to at least have some words on Cody soon! Y’all, not going to lie, the fact that there has been ZERO mention of him on The Bad Batch is killing me.

As Always:

This will eventually be a 18+ older fic and deals with anxiety, death, sex, PTSD, murder, loss, found family, Order 66, and coming to terms. This is not just a fluff fic. It will very much be dealing with very dark and hard themes, so please, if that is something that can be too hard for you, don’t read.

Pairings: Rex x Reader x Cody (polyamory) I should say this is NOT a Rex x Cody fic. There will be ZERO Clonecest on this blog or story. Reader is a consensual relationship with Rex and with Cody. Yes they share, yes they will eventually have sex together, but Cody and Rex are NOT in a relationship nor will they be intimate.

Rating: 18+

TW: Death, Murder, infanticide, death of the Jedi, PTSD, Loss, Anxiety, eating disorders, sleep disorders, Order 66. I will add other things as I think about them

Part 4: It’s You.

You waited with your back to the door on Hondo's ship; another one was docked right outside, carrying the crew that had something either of you wanted. You took a deep breath, adjusting your blaster in your thigh holster and checking over your clothes before putting on your helmet. The base of it was a black Ubese helmet, edged with black dyed bantha hair and painted to resemble a Kaleesh skull in white. The edges of the white skull were rimmed in a dark red and the faux eyes were painted an electric green, almost making them glow.The breather of the helmet was pointed down, tapering at the end and etched with designs reminiscent of a certain Kel Dor. Twin points also came down from the sides, once again resembling a Kel Dor breather, but painted to look like the fangs of the Kaleesh skull. When you wore it, you were an incredibly fearsome sight to behold.

Hondo had stepped out of the cockpit while brushing off his clothes, but when he saw you he went on and on in a poetic manner making you snort behind your mask, "Pretty Lady must you put on that horrid thing? How am I supposed to gaze upon your beautiful Visage? How am I to write songs of your shiny eyes if you insist on covering them? How am I to chant loudly into the heavens about the glory of your smile when all I see is that ugly thing staring back at me?"

The sound that came out of the modulator was a loud crack of static. It wasn't lost on him though, and he waggled his brow at you, knowing he made you laugh.

"Hondo, one of these days I'm going to launch you out of an airlock. Then you'll be Wild Space's problem."

He laughed loudly, but before he could give a retort, the door-lock opened and the crew from the other ship began to board.

Immediately the hair on your neck stood up and your hackles raised. It was time to go into heartless bounty hunter mode, another mask that became easier and easier for you to put on.

Hondo noticed your posture change and went to greet whoever had come aboard, stepping in front of your turned back. Whether it was to hide his best and most terrifying asset or to put space between you and them for your sake, you never knew. You liked to think it was his way of still protecting you, even after all these years. It probably was.

"My friends! My friends! So good to see you again! Ezra Bridger! It has been too long!"

You heard the cacophony of voices greeting him in a less than enthusiastic excitement. If these people were your friends, you would have laughed again. But you didn't have friends. From the sound of it, there were four people behind you. Nothing difficult to take down, but not something you should be careless with. There was something off about one of them though, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but they were...familiar.

"Allow me for introductions! This tall, imposing creature behind me is my associate, bodyguard, smuggler, chief pilot, chief mechanic, artistic muse, platonic soulmate, oldest friend, and beautifully deadly bounty hunter, all rolled into one. And this band of colorful characters are the crew of the infamous Ghost!" Hondo waved his hands in a grandiose manner between the group and your back; this was a well rehearsed situation that you both had done several times, though for whatever reason, he decided to over exaggerate your titles. Normally he would do the talking and you would scare the clientele. And if you had too, if they had something that you knew belonged to them, you'd kill them. Nothing would keep you from the last remnants of the ones you loved and lost.

"Ahh, Hondo? Does your associate have a name? Or talk? Are they even awake? Are they just going to stand there?" You heard a boy's voice, a cockiness only found in the young lacing every word.

"Ezra." A woman, probably someone important, chastised the boy.

You waited for Hondo's signal for you to turn, but the door opened once more and you heard one more set of boots and something soft, furry, stepping across the steel. A voice spoke. A Lassat. Dangerous creatures, you had seen a few when you were still a young Padawan with your old Master. Before the war. Before they died. Back when your biggest concern was the eventual Trials. You knew a fight wasn't going to be easy and you hated the idea of killing an already dying race. But you would if you had too.

The Lassat male was arguing with someone about something, but you weren't paying attention.

Hondo touched your shoulder softly, your signal to turn. He had spent the time making pleasantries and lulling them into a false sense of comfort, probably. He could have been talking about the weather on Jakku for all you cared. You were more concerned about making sure the straps on your holsters were open, giving you easy access to draw.

Slowly you moved, letting them see just how dangerous you were, how in control of your body you were, how much they should fear the creature behind the helmet. But, you halted mid spin.

All of the blood drained from your face, your mouth went dry, your throat tightened up, and you were overcome with such anger and gut wrenching sorrow you thought you would snap.

The man that walked in with the Lessat was wearing HIS armor. The armor you had spent 15 years looking for.

You blanked.

Somewhere there was yelling and cries to stop, but you couldn't make it out. Your head was spinning and it felt like there was cotton in your ears and as tunnel vision took over, everything knocked your senses for a loop. You didn’t realize you were doing it, but you grabbed both your blasters, turned fully, and pointed them at the man. Half the crew jumped out of the way, the others pointed their weapons at you, and Hondo tried to reason with both sides, standing with his back to you while the man had his own blasters trained on your head. Hondo quickly got out of the way of the four barrels, still trying to diffuse the situation. You couldn't understand what he was saying, everything sounded so dull and muted.

No, wait. Those weren't just any blasters. You would know those DC-17s anywhere.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

Someone was screaming. You couldn’t tell who it was or where it was coming from. It was garbled and cracking, a mechanical sound. It hurt your head. You just wanted everything to stop, just for a moment. But the world kept spinning and you felt like you were going to pass out any moment. You just wanted everything to be quiet, you needed to think, you just wanted a moment to figure out what was going on. Why was it so loud? Why did everything hurt? You just wanted everyone to just be still. Just be still, if only for a second.

You could feel your breathing pick up, that tightening fear in your chest, that ache that gripped your heart and threatened to pull it from your body. ‘Just be quiet, please, please, be quiet. I can’t...I need to think, I need to think..’

"HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS HELM!” More screaming, “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO HE WAS?! DO YOU?! HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS ARMOR AS YOUR OWN! HOW DARE YOU STAND THERE AND KNOW NOTHING OF HIM!" Maker, the screaming was coming from you. You were yelling at him, venomous spit falling from your mouth, words meant to shame and kill. Your blasters were trained on his chest, fingers laying on the triggers.

"TAKE IT OFF OR I WILL RIP IT FROM YOUR BROKEN CORPSE!"

You could feel something wet on your cheeks but you didn't know what it was or where it came from. Did this man kill Rex?! Did he rip his beloved armor from his broken body? Did he leave him to rot in some cursed field? Or did he just take it from his already forgotten skeleton? Your heart beat a mile a minute, you were sweating and your whole body shook in anger, but your hands never wavered, blasters trained perfectly on the man. How dare this cretin dishonor Rex, dishonor his memory.

"YOU WILL NEVER INSULT HIS MEMORY AGAIN! TAKE IT OFF!!"

You were panting and your modulator was straining under the volume of your voice.

No one lowered their weapons. No one spoke. No one moved a muscle. All that could be heard were your wheezing sobs through the helm.

There was a beat. And then another. And then the man did something unexpected.

You just knew you were going to have to kill everyone. You just knew you were going to peel bloodied, beloved armor from some backwater nothing.

But when he slowly lowered his arms, holstering the DC-17s, you faltered. Was he giving up so easily? Perhaps he didn't want bloodshed after all. Good. But it didn't make you lower yours. Nor did it make the others lower theirs.

Slowly, like he was trying to coax a scared lothcat, the man raised his open hands to the old helm covered in hatch marks with jaig eyes and pulled it off.

First you saw weathered skin tanned from the sun, a white beard trimmed nicely, then a strong nose and finally golden eyes, eyes you had seen a million times before. Eyes that haunted you every time you went to sleep. Eyes you thought you would never see again.

When he had taken the helm completely off and tucked it under his arm, he spoke. And everything inside of you shattered.

"My name is Rex. Captain of 501st regiment in the Grand Army of the Republic. This is my armor that was issued to me almost 20 years ago. I don't know who you think I am, but I can assure you, this is my armor."

The others watched you, weapons trained. No one moved, no one spoke, no one breathed. You, on the other hand, felt everything rushing back at you full force. When he spoke, his voice was a punch to your gut, knocking the wind out of you, causing you to hyperventilate. Your blasters, still trained on him, began to shake violently in your hands.

You were panting and your eyes blurred from all of the new tears. Panic rose high in your throat, cutting off your breathing. It can’t be. How could it be? He died. The Empire recorded him dying after Mandalore. You were there, you saw the absolute destruction. No one survived that.

Involuntarily you dropped your weapons and they clattered loudly to the durasteel ground, but your arms were still stretched out, still holding onto phantom guns.

You inhaled sharply, your modulator cracking in a loud hiss. Slowly, trying to control the tremors that wracked your body, you moved your hands to your own helm and unlatched the buckles on the sides. There was another hiss as the airtight seals released the pressure and vented.

"What's going on..." the young boy started. "Hush, Ezra Bridger." Hondo cut him off, silencing him with a hand on his shoulder as you and Rex stared one another down.

You lifted your helm up and then let it fall to the floor, a loud clank shaking the silence between you all.

Rex sucked in a breath and released it in a harsh shudder, his mouth hanging open. "Mesh'la," he whispered; he could feel his knees giving out, causing him to stumble forward and push his way through his crew.

His eyes were as wide as saucers and glistening. Fat, heavy tears tracked down his face and fell into his beard as he reached shaking hands out to you. He paused for a moment, afraid that if he touched you, you would disappear like every dream before. But carefully his hands gripped your face, gently turning it side to side, taking in the scars and faint crows feet and wisps of grey hairs you now sported. Your age and harsh life showed, but you were still just as beautiful, just as ageless, just as perfect as he remembered. Still the same eyes that he dreamed of every night.

You couldn’t breathe. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs and every nerve ending burned. You could hear your blood pumping in your ears, creating a painful rush like being thrown under the oceans. Every part of you felt like it was on fire. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move. Slowly your shaking hands gripped his wrists and held him close. Your body tried to take a shuddering breath, but it only came out as a choked sob while you squeezed your eyes shut.

As the noise left you, Rex pulled you close, his mouth over taking yours in a passionate kiss, full of tongue and teeth. Your hands left his wrists and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as he continued to hold your face.

"Rex. I thought....I thought you were...Rex," you whispered into his lips between kisses.

"I searched for you, Cyare. I looked everywhere. I thought you died. I thought Cody.."

Your breath hitched at his name, making Rex pull you impossibly closer. You both stood there, wrapped in eachothers arms, crying, kissing, whispering love to one another, completely oblivious to the others.

You weren't sure if your knees failed you, or if it were his, but one of you fell to the floor, taking the other with them, still wrapped in each other, crying and holding on for dear life.

The Twi'lek woman quietly ushered the others, a man and a Mandalorian girl, along with the boy and Lessat, out. Hondo followed behind, a smug smile on his face, ridiculously proud of himself, giving you both much needed privacy.

#Rex x Reader #Rex #Cody #Cody x Reader #Rex x Reader x Cody #Hondo x Reader Platonic #Hondo x Platonic!Reader #Rebels fic #clone wars fic #Poly #Jedi!Reader #No Matter Where You Go I Will Find You #Star Wars #Reader is an Ex-Jedi #Reader is now a Bounty Hunter #Big reveal #finally meeting Rex

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nadisabug · 4 years ago

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Take On Me

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson! reader

Warnings: terribly written, I apologize, cannon divergence (smol divergence), song fic?????

Summary: Y/n won’t believe that The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington likes her.

A/N: aaahhhhh okay so I woke up at seven am and this song was playing and I had a fever dream idea for a fic so it’s terrible no beta we die like men

"Wanna go to the movies sometime?"

I was mid-bite in my ice cream when Steve "The Hair" Harrington popped the question. I slowly backed away from the ice cream and stared at him dumbfoundedly.

He was leaning on the register, his bicep prominent and flexed. He had lost the cap he usually wore, and even though he had probably been wearing it all day, his hair still looked good. He was flashing me a drop dead gorgeous smile and his eyes were almost sparkling.

Gods I was fucked.

This wasn't the first time he had asked me out by any means. He had been hinting at it every time we saw each other for the past half year. This was the first time he was so up front about it, though. Usually I could act stupid and brush it off.

I hid the heat creeping up on my cheeks by digging in my purse. I grabbed a wad of bills and slapped them on the counter.

"Sorry, I got to go pick up Dusty from AV club," I smiled tightly, lying through my clenched teeth. "Keep the change." And with that, I nearly ran from Scoops Ahoy ice cream. I left so quickly that i didn't see Dustin, my brother, popping out from behind the counter.

"Dude, sorry. You'll get her next time," Dusty sighed.

"Next time?" Steve scoffed. "Buddy, there will be no next time."

"Come on, she likes you I swear," Dusty pleaded.

"Sure didn't look like it," Robin piped in. She was sitting on the passway holding a white board that said 'Steve Sucks' with 17 check marks below it and 'Y/n said yes' with no check marks below it. "I think that one counted for two," she announced, adding two check marks to the 17.

"Shut up Robin," Dusty snapped. He turned back to Steve. "Please Steve you gotta believe me!"

"Okay, okay, fine Henderson," Steve sighed collapsing on the ice cream counter. "Then why does she keep blowing me off?"

Dusty smiled. "For that, we do some recon."

~~~~~~~

I was laying on my bed when I heard a knock on my door. I looked up from the book I was reading.

"Momma?" I called curiously.

"No! It's your favorite brother," Dusty announced, throwing open the door. I smiled and put my book on the night stand.

"Indeed it is. To what do I owe this pleasure," I sat up and patted the bed next to me.

Dusty graciously threw himself into the bed and smiled up at me. "A brother can't want to talk to his only sister who he loves?"

I raised an eyebrow at that. Dusty was always so bad at lying. "Spill, now," I ordered.

Dusty sighed and slumped down. He cursed under his breath - which I chose to ignore under the circumstances- and then looked up at me again.

"Steve told me he likes you. Like a lot."

At that confession, I hopped off the bed, turning away to hide my blush. I had just blown Steve off now here Dusty was telling me Steve likes me? Something was off.

"Since when did Steve trust you enough to tell you that kind of stuff?" I questioned, towering over Dusty who was still sitting on the bed.

"Well we've been hanging out." Dusty couldn't even maintain eye contact with me. He was hiding something.

"Where were you today after school?"

"AV clu-"

"Oh my gods you were at Scoops Ahoy." I slapped my hands over my face and turned around to hide my shame.

"No I wasn't!" Dusty tried to cover his tracks, but it was already too late.

"Dusty, there is no AV club today." The pieces clicked together in my mind. "Oh my gods Steve knows I lied to him."

"Yeah! Which really hurt him because he likes you!"

"No he doesn't Dusty!" I threw myself face first onto the bed and screamed.

"Yes he does! He's literally asked you out so many times."

I twisted, propping myself up on my elbow so that I could look at Dusty. "That does not mean he likes me."

"How so?" Dusty huffed and folded his arms.

"Because, Dusty, he's Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, he probably just wants to get back at Nancy for ditching him for Will's brother."

"What? No," Dusty scoffed.

"Yeah," I nodded. "She left him for The Freak so he's going to date The Psycho Bitch."

Dusty got a soft look of his face for a moment. "Is that what they call you?"

"Doesn't matter Dusty. What matters is that Steve doesn't actually like me. He just thinks he does because he's torn up about Nancy."

Dusty thought for a second. "What if he proved it to you?"

I looked at Dusty. "What do you mean?"

"What if he actually proved to you that he really did like you?"

I shrugged. "Then I'd date him and losing Dart won't come and bite us in the butt."

"Really sis you had to bring that up?"

"He ate Mews," I whisper yelled, careful in case Mom heard.

"About that, we finished translating the message, come on," he rolled off the bed, grabbing my arm and pulling me over in the process.

"Ow! No I can't!"

"Why not?"

"I can't see Steve after lying to him like that!"

"Oh just come on, he'll forgive you. He's madly in love with you."

I doubted that but I went with Dusty anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After everything we went through, we had a moment to pretend like everything was okay. The middle school dance.

I was upset that Dusty insisted that Steve take him to the dance and not me, but I knew they had something like a brother bond so I wan't too upset. I volunteered to be one of the high schooler chaperones, mainly under Joyce's wishes. She wanted at least someone there to watch Will like a hawk. Or two.

So Nancy and I were here. At the punch table.

"So, how's college going," Nancy piped up.

I had to be honest, I didn't really like her. Not with the way she broke Steve's heart. But I had to remain cordial. I guess.

"Good."

"I heard you got scholarships."

"It was the only way I could go."

"Yeah. With the.... deaths..." she said carefully, "at the Hawkins Post, they're hiring again. So Jonathan and I got our jobs back."

"That's great." I paused. "Not the deaths, the getting jobs back."

"Yeah."

We lapsed into silence after that.

I scanned the room to see that the boys had split off to dance. Some girl was dancing with Will, Mike was dancing with El, and Lucas was with Max.

Dusty wasn't with them though.

I looked around the room to see him sitting on the bleachers holding back tears. My heart lurched at the sight.

"I'm going to go dance with him," Nancy announced. I was about to let her when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I grabbed Nancy's arm.

"Wait," I ordered. I saw a girl with visible braces wearing a baby blue dress approach Dusty. He immediately perked up and held out his hand for her. She took it and they walked to the dance floor.

"Nice call," Nancy smiled.

I just dropped her arm, nodded, and turned away to watch them.

After a couple of hours, the kids started leaving one by one. Around the time we were at half capacity, Dusty came up to me.

"May I have this dance?" He awkwardly bowed with his hand outstretched. I had to stifle a giggle.

I looked at Nancy. She waved me off. "Go ahead, I can serve punch."

"Of course, mi' Lord," I giggled and took his hand.

He dragged me all the way to the middle of the dance floor and began to dance with me.

"Sure Suzie won't be jealous about baby blue dancing with you?"

"She knows I only have eyes for her," Dusty rolled his eyes at the notion that she could possibly be jealous.

"Turn around," I began in a sing songy voice. "Look at what you see!"

"Oh shut up," Dusty growled and shoved me.

I laughed but kept dancing with him.

At that moment the song changed, and Dusty smiled. My back was to the stage so I couldn't see what was going on, but I assumed it was just the band preparing.

As soon as I heard the signature synth, I squealed.

"I love this song, Dusty did you request it?"

"Sorta," he grinned.

Then I heard his voice.

"Ba ba-ba ba. We're talking away, I don't know what I'm to say, I'll say it anyway. Today's another day to find you shying away."

I dropped Dusty's shoudlers and turned around. When I did I saw Steve "The Hair" Harrington on the stage, mic in hand, singing.

Then he pointed straight at me.

"I'll be coming for your love, okay?"

"No fucking way," I whispered.

"Hell fucking yeah, get it Harrington!" Dusty cheered behind me.

"Take on me, take me on, I'll be gone in a day or two," he sang, the last word high and pitchy. It was so bad. So awfully terrible. He was making a complete fool of himself.

But I couldn't tear my eyes away.

"So needless to say, of odds and ends, but I'll be stumbling away slowly learning that life is okay. Say after me, it's no better to be safe than sorry."

It was only then that I noticed that the middle schoolers around me had parted to make a huge circle, with me at the center.

"Take on me, take me on, I'll be gone in a day or two," Steve sang even worse than the first time. Then he tossed the mic into the crowd and jumped off the stage. Then he began to dance, horribly. He did the running man, switching to the sprinkler, which then phased into a Charleston. It was so horrible but I couldn't help but smile. After the dance break, he turned to the crowd with his hand out. Miraculously, someone handed him the microphone.

"Oh, the things that you say, yeah is it life or just to play my worries way? You're all the things I've got to remember," he sang and walked towards me. I tried to take a couple steps back, but someone - most likely my beloved Dusty - shoved me forward. Hard. I stumbled and fell into Steve, who caught me.

"You're shying away, I'll be coming for you anyway." Steve clicked the microphone off and held it out to the crowd. Someone took it quickly and he brought his other arm around me. I would like to say that I tried to stand up away from him, but I didn't. I just let Steve hold me.

"Take on me..." Steve sang to me and only me. With each word he pulled my arms up and wrapped them around his neck. He then began to sway softly with the music, dancing with me. We danced as the crowd around us reformed, the middle schoolers going back to dancing. It was almost like nothing happened.

But to me everything thing did.

"Are you su-"

"Yes," he whispered.

I smiled.

"Wanna go to the movies sometime?"

Sorry not sorry Dusty deserved some one to dance with I don’t make the rules

Taglist is open! Just shoot me an ask, dm, or comment!

#i am so sorry this is so bad #sorry this is a crack fic #please forgive me for i am thirsty #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stanger things x reader #stranger things

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

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switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 3

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

word count: 4k

content warnings: mention of rape and victim-blaming (talking about Clea's previous job in sex crimes— not her personal experience).

masterlist

this chapter is drawn from the season 1 episode 17 episode "A Real Rain," which is supposed to be in New York, but I didn't wanna write about New York so I changed it to Boston.

I drop a second sugar packet into my coffee before taking a tentative sip. my face twists in discomfort. previous to working here, I would bring my own thermos from home and it would last me all day, but I've had to up my caffeine intake to two or three cups.

"you get used to it." JJ walks over to me, steeping her tea. despite the fact that it's early, she's perfectly put together. her hair is tied up and her eyes are sparkling.

"how?" I laugh. she points to the coffee pot, which is fresh and yet somehow tastes slightly stale.

"when you've been up for twenty four hours, you won't care how it tastes."

I avert my widened eyes at this.

"you could do what Spence does and just add a bunch of sugars." she tilts her head towards Reid, who is rocking back in forth in his spinny chair with a huge volume open in front of him. he doesn't even notice us staring at him.

"ew, what?" I giggle. JJ nods.

"hey, Spence!" she calls across the office. his head pops up to frown at us.

"yes?"

"how many sugars do you use?"

"five. occasionally six." he says this without a hint of the shame it deserves. my eyebrows shoot up and I take another sip of the bitter drink, trying to ignore the taste. it coats my tongue.

"see?" she smirks. "just so you know, we have another case. meeting in five." she sashays away to the conference room, leaving me standing there with an overwhelming urge to sweeten my drink. I keep it at three and add a splash of creamer to drown out the bitterness, then walk briskly to my desk to grab a few of my things.

"we have a meeting, Reid." I say across the divider between our spaces. he holds up an index finger, slams the book shut, and grabs his things. I wait for him to get collected before we head up.

"what were you reading?" I ask, peeking at his workspace. books are lined up against the divider, loose papers scatter the surface, and there are three uncapped pens littered about. his disorganization surprises me.

"War and Peace." he replies, checking his watch.

it's not even nine am.

...

I'm staring out the window of the jet while Morgan and Prentiss battle out yet another card game with Reid. there's not much to see until we slice through clouds and fly over Boston, which is glittering in the early light. I sigh and turn back to my book, tucking my legs up beneath me.

"this is not how I planned to visit." Morgan notes, looks through his cards.

"I'm looking forward to seeing Boston." Spencer smiles softly. at this, all of us look up.

"you've never been?" Morgan asks doubtfully. Emily snorts.

"we've never had an unsub there." Reid doesn't seem to think this strange at all. Morgan and I share a glance before he speaks.

"Reid, it's an hour-and-a-half flight."

"I'll show you around if we have some time." Emily smiles reassuringly at the boy genius.

"it's an easy trip, man." Derek chuckles. Spencer isn't bothered by our teasing. instead, he draws another card from the deck and focuses on his game.

"I've never been either." I state. the team turns to me with surprised expressions, causing my cheeks to flush.

"you, too?" Morgan makes a face like I've disappointed him.

"I've been meaning to go." I shrug. "there's an exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts that I wanna see."

"what exhibition?" Spencer doesn't look up from his hand.

"uh, Titus Kaphar." I haven't had the opportunity to travel much, so a lot of the art I've seen has been from a computer screen or in class in college. it would be nice to actually get some experience seeing things face-to-face.

"Shifting the Gaze!" Spencer's face snaps up to beam at me, referencing the piece so vehemently that it makes me laugh.

"yeah, exactly."

"I went to his talk a couple years back."

"no way. really?" I shut my book and lean forward while he nods. Prentiss and Morgan are watching our conversation like a tennis match. while Reid rambles about all the things he heard at the lecture, I listen intently. it's good, because I don't really feel like talking right now; my head is pounding all over again, and this is distracting.

"do you ever go to the art museums in DC, then?" I ask once he's finished. Reid gets this crooked smile on his face like he wants to say a bunch of things, but is holding his tongue. his face is animated when he tells me about the other exhibits he's seen at the Smithsonian and apparently abandons his cards. Prentiss and Morgan have lost interest in our conversation; they start their own game and let us talk for the rest of the flight.

when we touch down, I immediately feel overwhelmed by the crush of people around us. our first crime scene is a taxi cab in Hyde Park, where the driver has been blindfolded, shot in the chest, and stabbed right through his ear. the blade, broken off from the handle, is lodged in his brain.

despite the fact that his kills are violent and seemingly random, the unsub definitely isn't disorganized. he carries his MO out the same way each time, which makes all of us question if we've missed a connection between victims.

"it's possible he's a sort of serial killer groupie." Spencer notes as he examines the inside of the cab, which is splattered with a mix of rainwater from the night before and blood. I shift where I'm standing to try to follow his line of sight.

"what do you mean?"

"Lawrence Bittaker and Roy Norris drove ice picks into their victims' heads and broke off the handle." he explains.

"well, if he's doing that, then he's presenting a mixed profile." I frown.

"exactly."

"mixed profile?" the police officer next to me asks.

"yeah. the fact that this guy is shooting his victims first suggests that he needs a quick and effective means of controlling the situation, which means that he probably doesn't think he can overpower them." I say.

"he could have a physical problem-- or maybe he's just not confident because he's small." Reid is still examining the taxi for any further evidence, but it seems sort of pointless.

"plus, he's organized and hunts at night. that tells us he most likely has a steady job."

"so," the cop stares between us with a perplexed expression. "we're looking for a small, angry white guy with a day job?"

the sarcasm in his voice makes me smile a little.

"I know it doesn't narrow down a lot right now, but we know that this guy isn't blitz attacking his victims. it's more of an execution."

the officer nods at this and my phone buzzes in my pocket. I turn to Reid.

"we gotta go."

Spencer nods curtly, straightens, and starts to immediately walk back to the car. I shake my head at his behavior, then follow after.

...

we get called to visit a new crime scene in the morning, this time in a church. Hotch holds the door open for me and I walk in to see a body laid out in front of the pews. an older woman sits towards the back, comforted by a nun.

"how'd they find him?" Prentiss asks the police chief as she leads us to the victim.

"night janitor." she nods to a man being questioned by cops in the corner.

"did he see anything?" I ask her.

"no, but he remembered a parishioner who was here earlier," we walk past the older woman. she stares at us expectantly as the chief talks. "so there could be a potential witness."

we stop at the body of a priest, his eyes covered and a blade lodged in his skull, unsurprisingly. Emily and I stare down at him, realizing the same thing.

"first public killing." she notes as she bends down to examine his wounds. "he's getting bolder."

"the presentation is just as important as the kill." I join her on the ground, snapping my gloves tighter on my hands and turning his head to the side to get a better look at the blade. semi-dried blood coats the tied fabric around his eyes.

"I'm gonna go talk to that woman." Emily leaves. the crime scene agent crouches down on the ground across from me, and I bite my lip before making a strange request.

"would you mind... sliding that thing out of his ear?"

the agent blinks at me in disbelief, probably not wanting to pry a knife out of someone's head, but nods and does so carefully. I squint down at the wound. then I realize something.

"Reid?" my voice carries across the room. Spencer is talking to an officer when he hears me and walks over.

"this doesn't look like a normal blade, but I don't know what it is." I point at the now half-buried weapon. it sits unpleasantly out, the blood catching warm light. Spencer gets down next to the crime scene agent and examines it more closely.

"this is flint." he says slowly, turning to me with a concerned expression.

"like the stone?"

"flint is the symbol for protection and retribution in Egyptian mythology. with hieroglyphics, they used to display dangerous animals like scorpions and snakes being cut with flint knives in order to render them powerless."

"oh." is all I can manage while I process what he's saying. Spencer waits for me to say something else, but instead I bend my head down to pull back the silk tie.

"there's no way that using flint is a coincidence." I reason. the blood is all on the inside of the tie as well, which gives me pause. Reid recognizes this a second later, his eyes lifting to mine. they look almost brown in the candlelight, flecks of gold sparkling in them while his mind whirs endlessly.

"I'm gonna call Garcia to see if any of the victims have been charged with a crime." he tells me.

"good idea." we both stand, the crime scene agent scurrying off to do something else. I head back over to Emily and hope that we're right about this. flint is too specific of a weapon for it not to be intentional, right?

...

we deliver the profile by the end of the work day, our unsub a serial vigilante with a personal edge to all of his killings. my body is slightly shaky from downing cups of coffee without any actual food, so the promise of eating out after we finish makes my stomach eager.

we go to a Chinese restaurant by the station and keep talking about the case, despite having promised ourselves not to do so. I sit between Prentiss and Reid while I dig into my dumplings. I like listening to them swap theories and past cases, how they weave together all their stories.

"you forgot to add something to the profile earlier today, Aaron." Rossi says as he piles more noodles onto his plate. our attention immediately focuses on the Italian.

"what did he forget?" Prentiss has a ghost of a smile on her face. I've noticed that she tends to speak like she's on the inside of a joke that other people don't understand. the intonation of her words feels like a secret.

"I didn't mention the possibility of our unsub being a cop." Hotch takes a sip of his ice water. there's a moment where we all reflect on this information before Morgan breaks the silence.

"I mean, they do know the system."

"they could easily take matters into their own hands, given what they see every day." Prentiss adds. I nod.

"when someone like our victim is killed, police refer to it as a public-service murder." Reid struggles to get the noodles onto his chopsticks, which I notice but don't say anything about. he tries again, the food slipping back onto his plate. Morgan notices this shortcoming of Spencer's and I see that he's about to start teasing him, so I change the subject.

"I saw a lot of rapists walk when I was in sex crimes," I put down my dumpling while I talk. Hotch watches me intently. I haven't spoken much about my previous job with anyone on the team, especially not him. in fact, he barely knows anything about me. "a lot of the victims didn't feel safe pressing charges, or the juries said they were asking for it. it's enough to make you wanna explode."

"it's a long way from feeling like that and actually committing a murder, though, don't you think?" Emily asks.

"not really." I turn my gaze back to my plate and start to feel nauseous. there's a clinking of plates and silverware as we continue in silence. Emily nudges my arm gently with hers and offers me a supportive smile.

I hear Spencer next to me, getting the attention of a passing waiter.

"excuse me," he says in a low tone. "can I get a fork, perhaps?"

Morgan snickers as the waiter takes off to get the utensil. at this point, there's a palpable tension as we wait to see who makes fun of Reid first. he drops his chopsticks into his bowl with a defeated clatter and Derek gently pushes his knuckles against Spencer's cheekbone.

"having some trouble, kid?" he asks. Spencer smacks his hand away.

"don't be mean." I giggle, reaching onto my wrist to grab a hair tie. "here, try this." I wrap the thing around the end of Spencer's chopsticks so that they're easier to use, handing them back to him.

Spencer tries again and it works-- if not somewhat clumsily. he gives me a little appreciative smile and I smile back before returning to my food, listening to the stories that Rossi doles out. he even pays for dinner despite our half-hearted protests.

the entertainment for the evening is pretty nice, but when I've stuffed myself with Chinese food, Emily leans over to me.

"do you wanna go to that museum you were talking about earlier?" she whispers. I peek at my phone to check the time.

"I doubt we'd have much time before they close, but yeah, definitely." excitement bubbles up in my stomach as I realize I might actually get to poke around for a while. Prentiss throws her napkin on the table abruptly.

"Clea and I are going to the Museum of Fine Arts. anyone wanna join?"

I look around to gauge some reactions.

"I'm interested." Morgan nods.

"I've already been several times." Rossi takes a sip of his drink as he politely declines. Hotch shakes his head.

"I have some paperwork I need to finish."

"again?" Prentiss complains.

"I'll go." Spencer sits up straighter as he looks at his brunette friend, folding his napkin neatly on his plate. my eyebrows raise a little, although I'm not surprised that he'd be interested in visiting any museum. we stand and get ready to go; Hotch warns us to be ready to go at seven in the morning tomorrow. a little weight is lifted off my chest as I realize that there will be some reprieve during this case, and then we're wandering out into the evening air.

we ate dinner sort of early, so the sky is still slightly aglow with a bruised shade, preparing to sink into its favorite darkness. after finding the route to the museum, we hop on the train.

Boston is lovely in the kind of way that aches of neat corners and airy lights. stores crammed with antiques and novelty products line the sidewalks, people wander about as they take in a pleasant night. somehow disjointed and cohesive all at once.

whatever bit of conversation we had on the way dissipates into breathlessness once we get inside the enormous entryway. it's cavernous, extravagant, gorgeous. we flip through brochures advertising different exhibits. Emily raves about Impressionism and decides that that must be our first stop, so we head off with the rest of the museum stragglers who have decided to feed themselves with art until they're forced to leave.

my head is constantly spinning to admire something else in the enormous white rooms. it's a bit overwhelming at some points, what with the gargantuan canvases that greet me at every turn. but it's impressive, too, and I find myself hungrily reading all the small plaques. I venture out of the Impressionism vein and into Korean art, my feet carrying me away from Morgan and Prentiss. Spencer broke off a while ago; to where, I have no idea.

I check out vases and pottery, sculptures, renderings of historical events. images from the crime scenes fill my head intrusively. there's no use in trying to shut them out; they've been in my dreams for a while now, the kind that wake me up in a cold sweat. I haven't told anyone about them— I'm sure others get them, too— and I don't want to seem like I can't handle it. every time I close my eyes, I begin to feel the pressure of a knife against my temple.

"a lot of these are from private collections."

the voice causes me to jump, my skin erupting in goosebumps as Spencer stands beside me. he holds his bag against his side and follows my line of sight to the 18th-century bookshelf screen.

"that's interesting." I reply. what else is there to say to that?

"really makes you think about what other art pieces won't ever be seen by the public." he turns and starts walking onto the next work, seemingly done with this conversation. my brow furrows while I watch him go, his posture miserable as a result of his skinny build. he's quite tall.

"what do you mean?" my voice comes out quiet, but it carries in the otherwise empty exhibit. Reid turns around and stops in his place, allows me to catch up briefly. we start to read another plaque by a silver basin.

"you could have a Cézanne just rotting in your attic and it would never be examined by the right scholars." he shrugs.

"I really doubt there's anything nearing that value in my attic." I laugh.

"you ever seen 'Antiques Roadshow'?" he asks non-sarcastically. I balk.

"sure."

"you never know." he's not a man of many words, apparently. I get his message regardless and we continue to walk, him setting out facts for me in neat rows, simple and easily taken in. he's definitely a know-it-all, but not in the way that makes me want to escape his presence. it's sort of comforting, having someone around who just understands everything. his absolute lack of social graces makes him easy to be around, too; I don't need to force conversation because he doesn't care.

we wind up in the mummy section, where the walls tingle with an energy that could only be described as magical.

"spooky." I nod to the domineering sarcophagus lid of Kheperra. a spotlight illuminates all of its intricacies and I make a beeline for it. Spencer trails behind me and we fall into silence as we peer at the exquisite details. it's intimidating, for sure, hulking and made of carved black stone. "you feel that?" I whisper to Spencer, who is enthralled in the image.

the way the spotlight spills over onto him is interesting; it emphasizes the shadow below his jaw and the delicate quality of his bone structure, his cheekbone prominent at the place where his ear meets his face. his lashes are long and lovely, his Adam's apple poking out of a slender throat. he turns to me with a curious expression.

"feel what?"

"the energy change," I smile. "from the ancient dead bodies."

"it's probably just the dark lighting and the media associations you have with mummies." but his eyes begin flitting about the room in a slightly panicked manner. I feel a smirk tug at my lips as I step closer to him.

"are you scared?"

"no," he scoffs and makes a face like I've made the world's most absurd accusation. "why would I be scared?"

"because we're all alone in here..." I use a lower tone to freak him out a little. "who's to stop them from coming out and... snatching us?" when my hand snakes around behind him to pinch his arm, he jumps.

"what the--" he catches sight of the devilish grin on my face. "don't do that!"

"sorry, Einstein." I laugh and turn in the other direction, him following me to the next piece. Spencer doesn't seem to have more thoughts to give on the exhibition, probably still a little creeped out. part of me begins to feel guilty for startling him, even though he constantly does that to me. his footfalls are weirdly soft.

I wonder what Spencer is like outside of work. what he does when he gets back to his apartment. how could someone like him entertain themselves? maybe he just reads books until his eyes glaze over. he definitely doesn't go out often, but maybe he has other nerdy friends. I hope he does. there's something in his eyes that's too viscous for me to grasp, something swimming and pocketed. I'd like to understand it, although that doesn't seem like a great idea to pursue. he barely gives his closest friends information about his life.

we end up at opposite ends of the room, him still examining an entombed husband and wife couple while I check out a canonic jar. the silence in this room is tangible. I wasn't lying when I felt an energy shift— it's like gold and clay and it smells like cracked cinnamon.

I'm trying to get a better look at the detailing when I feel a cold hand wrap around my forearm, easily encircling it. I jolt.

Spencer stands behind me with a playful smile, like he's quite pleased with himself.

"Reid!" I yank my arm away from his long fingers and see him let out that rare laugh. it's pleasant and fills the room with a warmer light as I rub my arm where his fingers held me. I'm surprised he was willing to touch me at all; it's pretty obvious that he's got a problem with germs, which is understandable.

"who's scared now?" he tries to defend himself with his palms when I reach out to gently smack his shoulder.

"you know, I was starting to feel bad for you." I laugh. he smiles brightly and keeps walking into the next room. I realize that the way we move is like two weighted ends of a string. he drifts out on his own, I follow, and vice versa.

I appreciate that he's beginning to loosen up around me, so much so that he smiles at a joke I make in the English Regency section. we walk quickly to absorb as much as we can before the museum closes, but we still don't get through all of it. Spencer isn't much of a conversationalist, and he doesn't really need to be. he listens to me talk, I listen to his erudite observations, smiling when he uses certain terms that sound like they're from someone much older.

by the time a curator tells us we have to go, we've completely lost Prentiss and Morgan and end up meeting back at the entrance. it's pitch black outside; Boston is still bustling, except my legs are tired and I'm ready to crash in bed. we have another packed day tomorrow.

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #dr. reid #criminal minds #mgg #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #friends to lovers #BAU #slow burn

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rosesloveletters · 4 years ago

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Self-Shipping Reference.

I have been debating on creating a self-shipping reference for these two, but since I am certain of our dynamic at this point, I wanted to delve right in; I love Will and Jakob so very much and I wanted to create a little collection of our relationship like I’ve done before in the past. Most of all, this is for me so that I can have it as a reference, so there is absolutely no obligation to interact with this post. If you do, thank you for showing us so much love and care, I really appreciate it more than anything. This community is so welcoming of self-shipping and that means a lot to me<3.

last updated: June 17, 2021

please do not read if you are not interested in or comfortable with self-shipping.

word count: 2,908

Ship name?

Our collective ship name is Grimmrose, for obvious reasons (my poly heart can hardly take it😭✨💛)

I do not feel I should need to say this (as it should already be implied), but since I do not want angry anons in my ask box about this, I will state: Will and Jakob are not romantically involved in our dynamic; the love they have for each other is familial only. They both share me, but that is as far as it goes. There is absolutely no incestuous aspects of our relationship.

Date you got together?

Jakob: May 26, 2021. The open honesty and security within our vulnerabilities were what prompted Jakob and I to jump in headfirst. We knew how we felt almost immediately; Jakob believes in love at first sight and I value that sentiment. It was a mutual understanding that the two of us were meant to be together (even if I hadn’t already known, the darling would have convinced me - he is extremely persuasive and given to a dreamer’s mindset.) The two of us easily came to an agreement on beginning a relationship because of how similar we have found ourselves to be. It was not difficult to access what each other was thinking and how we chose to approach those thoughts and feelings. Jakob is driven by those, after all, and his bright spirit and general interest in the things that cannot be so easily explained drew me to him.

Will:

Platonic: May 26, 2021.

Romantic: June 14, 2021.

Will was, to my surprise, not as difficult to access as I expected. He has a much different personality to Jakob’s; the two are near opposite ends of the spectrum. Will’s mission has been to protect Jakob, mostly from himself, but Jakob does not understand that the reason Will is so hard on him is because Will feels helpless around him. Jakob’s mind is so bright and open, while Will does not understand how to compete with that nor how to understand or fit into Jakob’s world of folklore and mythical, magical beings. He feels weak in comparison to Jakob’s spirit; Will values my ability to cross those lines and connect with both him and Jakob. Will has never known another to be so well-suited for his brother and he is respectful of how we interact, since until now he has been the only one who has been able to reach Jakob. We were platonic for several weeks out of respect for Jakob, but soon entered into a mutual agreement to share the love that we all have for each other; the brothers agreed to share me since they have both developed such strong feelings.

Favorite personality trait?

Jakob: His sense of security within vulnerabilities. Jakob is more given to childlike excitement and the thrill of action whenever it is of a magical quality. He fidgets, has a distinct nervous energy/uncomfortable body language, a clear mind but one that fancies fiction over reality. Whenever he drinks, he’s giddy and excited; the only one who can get through to him in these moments are Will and I. The thing is, Jakob has never tried to be anybody but himself. He is aware that these qualities are not valued by the vast majority and are perhaps seen as weaknesses or even are simply frowned upon (much of this he experienced as a result of the way Will treated him over the years), but even all of that has never caused his personality to shift or made him close himself off. Jakob has always found security within who he is, regardless of whether those around like it or not.

Will: His protective commitment to those who he loves. Even though Will canonically admitted his frustrations over Jakob and how he “hates” his younger bother, stating how Jakob “drives him mad”, he is fiercely protective of him and committed to maintaining their relationship in spite of any disagreements or arguments. Will does not give up on those he loves. Even though it would have made sense for him to toss Jakob into the streets and leave him if he truly hates him, but Will does not. Despite his confession, he has never actually hated his brother; Jakob makes him feel weak, helpless and inferior because Jakob’s comprehension of things beyond Will’s understanding or compulsion to understand or look beyond what is right in front of him is too different and unusual to him.

Favorite physical trait?

Jakob: His eyes. Jakob’s eyes are so expressive; they sparkle in the light and his irises twinkle. His soul appears as if it were made from stardust and every bit of him glows. His eyes reflect the innocence and playful mischief bound within him; he is a dreamer at heart and his eyes mirror that.

Will: His smile. There is a scene when Jakob and Will first arrive at Marbaden and they are confronted by the townspeople with weapons, uncertain of who these two strangers are, and when Will tries to explain who they are his smile is simply dazzling. I believe that was the moment I found myself in love with him; I have not seen a smile so bright in a long time. Here’s a screenshot of his smile (Jakob’s expression in the background is so funny😂):

Couple song

We do not have a couple song yet; we have couple albums.

Taylor Swift’s albums Folklore and Evermore are sister albums, so it only makes sense that they are representative of the two brothers respectively: Folklore for Jakob and Evermore for Will.

Both albums are suited to the three of us; the feelings provoked from both establish the tone of our relationship.

Pet peeves…

There is only one: their constant bickering/arguing and fights. It is natural for siblings to fight, but the longer I spend with these two, the more consistently they seem to fight in front of me. I do not believe the fighting affects their relationship as perhaps it did in the past; they seem very content, even after they’ve been fighting a while, and neither of them holds a grudge anymore.

Favorite outfit on them?

I will share photos since it would take some time to explain in enough detail; I am a sucker for older/medieval clothing (perhaps this is why this movie spoke to me in such a way?)

These are my favorite outfits of theirs:

their armor is a close second, because it really makes me laugh:

Favorite meal?

Jakob: This bit is indicative of all of us and I was the one who introduced the brothers to this meal - vegetable soup; beef/broth, noodles, peas, carrots, tomatoes, corn, green beans, potatoes. The brothers are used to eating whatever is being served them at the pubs they visit and the inns at each town they stay and, needless to say, are not often prepared a meal especially one to their specific tastes. The first time I made this for them, they ate heartily and it has been their favorite since.

Will: This is less of a specific meal and more of a eating habit of his, but Will is partial to sweet treats and desserts of all kind. His favorite treat is soft bread with a sticky, sugary glaze (wait until I tell him about glazed donuts😂)

Early bird or night owl?

Neither of the Grimms are particularly one or the other. They both have been known to stay awake all hours of the night for one reason or another; Jakob stays up writing most nights when brand new ideas flood his mind and prevent sleep. He works whenever inspiration strikes and if that is the middle of the night, then Will or I will find him hunched over his desk, pen scratching away across the page as he squints to read what he has written under the low candlelight.

Will stays awake late born out of a habit he has yet to change. He does not like to sleep very soundly until he knows that Jakob and I are either asleep or keeping each other company; Will takes responsibility of us quite seriously. Since we’ve begun a relationship, they do not go out as much as they once had and when we do, they are awake nearly the entire night and whenever they crash, they are both out cold.

If I wake up throughout the night, Jakob sleeps so soundly that he would not know (he wears earplugs if we’re staying at an inn because the noise bothers him.) Will always wakes up whenever I do; the shifting around wakes him, but he does not usually open his eyes or speak to me until I come back to bed and he settles me back into my spot.

Snorer or sleep talker?

Jakob: SLEEP TALKER! Jakob talks in his sleep nearly every night, most especially if he has had something to drink beforehand or if Will has gotten under his skin about something. Stress/anxiety also trigger it; I don’t hear him often, because he only does it in a deep sleep which is usually whenever I’ve already fallen asleep.

Will: Will does not snore or talk in his sleep; he is unusually quiet, however, he will groan or mumble softly if he’s turning over or something like that. He does not move a lot when he’s sleeping either.

Do you have any pets together?

No, our lifestyle is not suited to pets, unless horses used for transportation count.

Pet names! (Both from them and yours for them)

Will’s for me: little one/little girl, peanut

Jakob’s for me: sweetheart, darling, lover

Mine for Jakob: Jakey, Beanstalk (turning Will’s mean comments into something sweet💕), Dreamer, Sweetie/Sweet One/Sweet Baby

Mine for Will: Blondie, Prince Charming (only in certain scenarios)

Ones Jakob and Will use collectively for me: Briar Rose, Rosebud, Unicorn, Beauty/Belle (a play off my favorite fairytale), Princess

Ones I use collectively for Jakob & Will: Grimmy

How often do you fight? What starts fights?

I have yet to have any fights with either of the brothers (though I have had mild disagreements with Will over the way he speaks to Jakob.)

Jakob and Will fight often and about everything, but more often than not, the source of the argument is their personality difference. Their interests clash significantly and they find it difficult to coexist at times because Will feels he must fill the role of Jakob’s caretaker, while Jakob simply wants Will to be his brother and believe in him.

I usually do not get involved in their squabbles unless Will speaks out of turn. He can be somewhat hateful in the remarks he makes to his brother and I am not afraid to set the record straight. Jakob has gotten much better at standing up for himself; he is not afraid to get physical if things escalate to that point, though I have yet to see them lay a hand on each other. Jakob knows that one swift punch is all that he needs to deliver for Will to fall in line and understand that he is serious; he saves them for when he needs them and has only punched Will outright one time, that I am aware of.

Who apologizes first?

This depends on who feels they are “wrong”. Will does not like to apologize, so usually it is Jakob who initiates the apology. Occasionally, neither will apologize and it is implied that they both have and things will continue on like normal as if nothing ever happened (this is best case scenario.)

I have not known them to simply not apologize to each other for wrongdoing; Will has apologized to Jakob on a number of occasions where I have been present. If Will apologizes, it is usually for speaking too harshly to Jakob or bringing up the “magic beans” he has terrorized Jakob with for years.

Big spoon or little spoon?

Jakob: Jakob adores being the little spoon. Even though he likes to hold onto me at night, nothing seems to compare to being held. Jakob has gone the majority of his life without being shown affection and tender love; he is so touch-starved that he asks to be held almost every night.

Will: Will is the only F/O (aside from J) who I allow to be the big spoon on a regular basis. I trust him implicitly and know that he will keep me safe; he likes to hold onto me while we sleep so that he knows and can feel he isn’t alone. He does not like to sleep whenever it is too cold and he wants a warm body pressed against him.

Dom or sub?

Jakob: Submissive.

Will: Dominant.

Will has had his misgivings over Jakob and I, both being submissives, entering into a relationship together, but it has not presented an issue so far. Most of the time, Jakob and I love all over each other so it doesn’t matter one way or another😂 It is rare for Jakob and I to be sexually intimate.

Will takes on the more dominant role, since he has been so with Jakob over the years of their lives before they’d met me. Will is the nurturer and takes care of us both; he remains protective of us despite certain insecurities and fears. Will takes on more of the sexual responsibilities of their relationship with me because of his experience with women.

What are their kisses like?

Jakob: Jakob’s kisses begin as achingly shy, reverential ones that develop into slowly sensual, spontaneous or exploratory ones. Jakob likes to hold my hands when we kiss and I like the way his facial hair pleasantly scratches my face; he is always extremely gentle and never oversteps. I especially love when he kisses me with such eager impulsivity that our cheeks turn red and we laugh when it’s over.

Will: Will’s kisses can either be covetous and greedy, fervent, and deeply passionate or chaste and flirtatious. He always cups my cheeks, chin or tangles his fingers in my hair at the back of my head while kissing me; his lips often taste sweet or sugary from how often he indulges on sweets. My favorite of Will’s kisses are the languid, open-mouthed ones when he uses his tongue.

What do they smell like?

Jakob: Parchment, books and ink, candlewax, earth just after it has rained, sweet basil, a vaguely sweet musk, warm skin.

Will: Warm sugar, sweat/spicy musk, pine, flame.

What are their hugs like?

Jakob: Bear-like, full-bodied, fiercely affectionate and warm.

Will: Long, tight, unexpectedly powerful and almost needy.

Who is more protective?

Will.

Both brothers are fiercely protective of me and I know that, in spite of their differences, neither would ever let anything happen to me. As long as they are facing danger together, they would willingly take on any enemy (Jakob would never let Will face danger alone and vice versa.)

Interested in children?

No. Will says that Jakob and I are enough like children as it stands😂

Who needs the most TLC when sick?

Will AND Jakob. They are both huge babies whenever they are sick and all they want is to be taken care of. Surprisingly, they bicker a lot more whenever they’re sick; mainly, they fight over who gets to cuddle me first.

Whenever I am sick, I tend to react the same way and the brothers are more than obliged to take care of me in any way they are able. Will takes the more ‘hands-on’ work like fetching me a drink, food, blankets, etc. and helping me move about as I need. Jakob does not like to leave my side and he will not do so unless instructed by Will and he will fetch me whatever is needed and then return to cuddle with me.

Who says ‘I love you’ first?

I was the first one to say ‘I love you’ to either of the brothers. I told Jakob first; we nearly admitted it at the same time. We knew how we both felt upon the first of our meetings.

It took me a while to say ‘I love you’ to Will. Our relationship began platonically; I did not feel comfortable saying so to him until I spoke with Jakob about it first. Intuitive of human emotions is he and he was already well-aware of how we felt about each other and, with his blessing and consent, the brothers agreed to share the love and, well, me.

Which of you is more accident prone?

I bet you’re thinking either me or Jakob. WRONG! It’s Will. Jakob and I are very steady on our feet because we are full of rambunctious energy; Will is more laid back than either of us and he gets more indignant whenever he does accidentally hurt himself.

Bed hog?

Jakob is more of a bed hog than Will or I. He is consistently moving around in his sleep, talking, etc. There is one unspoken rule: Jakob sleeps on the left side of the mattress, I am in the middle and Will is on the right. Both use me as a barrier and do not cross to the other’s side of the bed at any point and they each take turns cuddling with me until we all fall asleep.

Who loves the other the most?

As if it even needs to be said, we all love each other equally, but in different ways. Jakob’s and Will’s relationship and love for each other is strictly familial, while the brothers’ relationships with me are both romantic.

Will understands and accepts that my relationship with Jakob takes priority, as we began ours first and I am unspokenly Jakob’s above all else. Any and all major decisions are made between Jakob and I; we of course always consider Will’s emotions, well-being, etc. but Jakob prefers to take the reins in terms of calling the shots, in spite of Will being the dominant and more protective one. He feels like Will owes him this and Will is happy to allow his brother this courtesy, considering this is Jakob’s first true relationship.

#🌹grimmrose #self-shipping

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rhapshie · 4 years ago

Text

This was from a writing challenge I had in my discord server a while back. Never really shared it outside, so I thought I’ll throw it here. I don’t think I’ll ever post it on my AO3

Title: - Rating: M Pairing: Aomine/Kagami TW: Suicide. The other dies in the end too but due to an unrelated incidence.

17 January.

Am I okay? I feel like I'm falling back down. I never knew how much I like his presence until he's not there anymore.

Kagami was pretty sure he was in love.

But no one should take his word for it. After all, he didn't know the first thing about romance, so this could just be a stupid infatuation for all he knew, but he really couldn't help it. Aomine was... unreal. He was convinced that the Touou player wasn't human because how could someone be so dazzling? It didn't even matter that he had such a cocky attitude. If anything, it made everything that much better.

Because what was wrong with confidence when he had the skill to back it up? Besides, Kagami found that kind of sexy.

In fear of his own emotion, he hid.

Over the course of his second year, he slowly grew more and more distant from Aomine after convincing himself that this was for the best. It would be much easier on his heart if he never confessed, therefore he'd never get rejected.

That didn't stop him from pining from afar, though.

21 March.

Satsuki suspects that something's up but I really don't wanna worry her more than I already do.

It all happened too quickly and too suddenly.

Kagami was eighteen years old, attending the last year of high school in Seirin when he felt something was amiss. Initially, he ignored it, thinking that the sudden throbbing in his heart was just his imagination and he continued playing basketball. Interhigh was just around the corner and their first opponent was Touou, so he couldn't afford to get distracted.

However, the nausea persisted throughout the night. Kagami tossed and turned in his bed as he wondered what could possibly cause such agitation. Cold sweat ran along his back as he forced himself to get some shut-eye only to finally succeed at too-late o'clock.

Something was seriously not right, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly.

1 April

I hate this. I don't know what the point is anymore. There's only so much that basketball can numb and I'm fucking hurting all over. I don't know how to reconnect with Tetsu and the others and I damn well don't wanna go to Kagami. Where is he anyway? Haven't seen him around lately...

Aomine wasn't there for their match.

And he wasn't the only one absent either. The spot next to Harasawa where Momoi usually sat was empty and the entirety of Touou seemed extremely distracted. Their focus was at an all-time low and they looked uncharacteristically distracted. Was it simply because of their missing ace? Kagami had a feeling that it was something else entirely. Judging from Kuroko's body language that conveyed discomfort, the redhead grew more certain that something else was gnawing on them.

No one wanted to tell him where Aomine was. They all simply turned their heads the other way and walked away, frustrating Kagami to no end. While he knew that they didn't look like the best buddies, he respected the other power forward. Kagami would go as far as to admit that he had a massive crush on Aomine.

Of course, it wasn't something he'd say out loud. In fact, instead of acting on it, he chose to stay as far away as possible. He figured that if he never showed any affection, he wouldn't have to get rejected. Better safe than sorry. Aomine looked like he was far from gay, so Kagami wanted to spare himself the heartache.

He knew he had no right to pry, but he felt like he deserved to know why Aomine didn't come.

13 May

All I do is hurt everyone near me even when they're just trying to help. Maybe it's better if I don't ask for help... It'll just be a pain in the ass. At the end of the day, it's my problem. I got no rights dragging other people into it, especially after what I've done. I'm so fucking tired. I'm so sick of feeling like this. If it wasn't for basketball, I... maybe I'd be long dead or something. Guess I'll have no choice but to keep playing.

Gone.

He was gone.

There was a deafening ringing in Kagami's ears when Momoi broke the news that Aomine had passed away. He had overdosed on paracetamol the night before the match. His parents were away on a business trip, so he wasn't found until Momoi broke into her childhood friend's place and saw Aomine's unconscious body in the kitchen. His skin was pale, deathly blue and icy cold.

Kagami didn't know what to say or how to react, so he only stood there.

He didn't cry. He couldn't.

11 June

I can't sleep. My head hurts. It's so pathetic but I feel so lonely... I still haven't told anyone, but I think I really should see a psychologist.

In the coffin lied Aomine's dead body. His silky blue hair was neatly brushed and there was no crease on his forehead. It was an unfamiliar sight for Kagami who could only stare at the man who would never again look at him with his electric navy eyes. Kagami would never again face him in a heated battle, would never again scream or be screamed at. There would be none of that infuriating lopsided smirk, that mocking laughter or the obsolete 'the only one who can beat me is me'.

He should be happy to finally be rid of Aomine's cocky attitude, but he wasn't.

Because it meant he would never see Aomine in his raw form, glistening in sweat and the joy of a child as he played the sport he loved ever again, nor one of his rare sincere smiles. There would be none of that husky voice haunting him at night when he only had his right hand as a company. Soon, the seat that Aomine occupied in Maji burger when they had dinner with the rest of the Generation of Miracles would be empty.

Kagami once again stared at the man who'd never again open his eyes. He looked so peaceful in death, unlike how he usually carried himself when he was alive and breathing.

And that was what hurt Kagami the most.

19 June

I can't do this anymore. No matter where I look, I don't see anyone who can help me. Besides, it's embarrassing to talk to them about this... shit. And I don't have money for psychologists either. Why are they so expensive? I sure as hell can't ask mum and dad because they'll end up grilling me about it.

In the months following Aomine's death—suicide, Kagami felt empty.

They found a journal under the man's pillow that detailed his slow spiral into depression. While he had his good days and things looked promising a couple of years ago when he finally regained the love of basketball that he thought he had lost forever, it didn't last.

He thought about all the missed opportunities that metastasised into regrets. There were multiple occasions when he was able to lend a helping hand, but all he ever did was chicken out. He was too scared of his own feelings for Aomine that he ended up running away.

Kagami wondered if he had talked more to him, he'd still be here right now. Maybe he was part of the reason why Aomine killed himself.

1 July

I'm getting really worried... The voices in my head won't stop. Earlier I had to call Satsuki just so I can talk to someone. I don't wanna worry her... I really don't. But between her and my parents... I guess I don't have a choice.

They said time healed all wounds, but Kagami started to suspect that maybe some wounds were simply too deep to ever disappear.

It had been too many years since Aomine's untimely death and he could barely remember the guy's face or voice anymore, but it never hurt any less when he remembered the arrogant Touou ace.

"Papa!"

Kagami looked away from the newspaper on his hand when he heard his little girl running towards him with glee. Her fingers were stubby and she was still unbalanced on her feet. The sight never ceased to warm his heart.

Despite living with his beautiful wife that he didn't deserve, Kagami never really truly let go of his past. He'd done well concealing it, but he knew that his wife suspected that something was up.

There were lingering what-if's spinning in his head. If he had asked Aomine for a one-on-one that evening, maybe none of this would ever happen. Maybe right now, they'd be living together with a child of their own. Or maybe they'd still be friends, rivals, whatever.

Maybe if they celebrated their birthdays together, maybe if Kagami gave him that box of homemade chocolate hiding in his fridge for valentine's, maybe if they spent one more day together in Maji's, maybe Aomine would still be alive right now. Even if they ended up drifting apart or hated each other's guts, it would be much better than this.

It was stupid to wallow in regret, he knew.

However, the diary that Momoi insisted he kept burned a hole in the nightstand. It was a grim reminder of his failure; of his cowardice that cost him the one person he wanted to see smile.

6 August

What would he say if he were here?

Where did he go, seriously... it's been so long since we've last met or talked.

I guess it's the interhigh soon. Maybe I'll see him again then.

He didn't even know when he started to grow such intense feelings for Aomine. For years he searched, but could never really pinpoint the exact time.

"Kagami-kun, it's time to go." Kuroko gently put a hand on the door and glanced at his old friend with a pair of sympathetic eyes that turned even more mellow when he saw the worn diary on Kagami's lap. "Don't you think you've carried this weight enough?"

The redhead stared at the wrinkly paper before he put it neatly in his suitcase on top of his clothes. "I'll carry it to my grave."

"It wasn't your fault." Said the lithe male with a monotone voice, but full of sadness for those who knew him.

Maybe if Kuroko actually read through the diary, he'd change his mind, Kagami thought.

12 August

I really wanna tell him how much I like talking to him.

This is so stupid.

I texted him but he never replied. It's been 3 weeks.

Maybe he hates me now.

He knew that one of these days, he'd get himself in a pickle he'd never get out of. Today so happened to be one of those days.

Regardless of what would happen, he was happy that he had divorced his wife and she had the custody of their daughter. As for his friends... well, they'd live. Everyone knew what being a firefighter would entail. Lots of rescuing cats from the tree, fetching lost keys from the gutters, running into a burning building and in some cases...

Death.

Yeah, that was a thing too.

With a forced laughter, Kagami curled his head under his chest to avoid inhaling more smoke than he already did. However, all openings were sealed and he had nowhere else to go.

He really should've chosen another path. NBA, for one. By now, he'd probably be past his prime. 35 years old. He'd be retired with a lot of money. Definitely more than he would ever get by working as a firefighter.

As the fire licked the space around him and burnt wood toppling down from the ceiling, Kagami waited for the moment when one would crush him and put him out of his misery. Or maybe his friends would come in and drag him out.

"...gami..."

The redhead lied on his stomach, eyes glassy as he watched the building structure crashed down all around him.

"Oi, Bakagami! How long are you gonna sulk for?"

"I'm not sulking..." He mumbled under his breath. "...Ahomine."

Ah, yeah. That was what he sounded like. Low, husky and seductive voice that he couldn't get enough of.

"C'mon, let's play." Those lips upturned into a grin and even though the rest of his face was obscured by the light, Kagami could clearly see beautiful deep blue eyes and frown lines on his forehead. "You were the one who bugged me, so just get up already."

"You're not an early riser, idiot. Why are you so—" he coughed after a particularly nasty inhale," so eager..."

"Hurry or I guess we won't play. I'll give you five minutes."

"Five minutes? I'll whoop your ass in three." He snorted inbetween his coughing fit.

"After all that talk you're just gonna lie there? I know you only had like, 3 hours sleep, but I thought you've been looking forward to this."

He felt his eyes slowly closing.

"Daiki..." He heaved tiredly. A piece of wood fell on his thigh and he bit out a scream when it charred his protective gear. Even through it, he felt the deathly heat. "I—Argh!" He didn't even know what the fuck that was but he was pretty sure it crushed his left leg. "I'm sorry. I'll be there soon."

"Fine," The light slowly eased as Aomine's head blocked the source of light to create a halo. Tanned skin, boyish grin and eyes that were positively brimming with life. "I'll wait for you."

15 August

If there's a life after death.

I wonder if they play basketball?

If they do, maybe I'll get to play with him again one day.

#aokaga #aomine daiki #kagami taiga #knb #mine

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otp-armada · 5 years ago

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"Bellarke doesn't make sense," they say. They say because Clarke hasn't done anything that resembles romantic gestures toward Bellamy.

Conceding to march to her possible death in exchange for Roan sparing Bellamy's life. Obstinately fighting against Bellamy's stubborn wishes to remain outside the Ark while Praimfaya burns to the world to ashes. Shattering her soul by choosing 100 people to live and writing his name on the list, because he must survive. She can't have it any other way. Relinquishing 50 of those spots to Azgeda when Bellamy is captured and threatened, and Roan calls her bluff. Desperation driving her to the extreme to ensure the survival of the human race, yet unable to kill Bellamy to keep the bunker closed and the grounders from possibly killing Skaikru. Leaving the guaranteed safety of the fort to stay by Bellamy's side on the brink of global cataclysm. The bittersweet yet soft head and heart exchange she prompted. The hesitation in her last remark before imploring him to hurry.

4x13 ends six years and seven days post-Praimfaya with Clarke radioing Bellamy on the Ring. An activity she performs daily for six years. In any six years of my adult life, my only daily consistencies have been limited to breathing, eating, and sleeping. This girl is devoted enough to send her equivalent of love letters into the emptiness of space for 2,199 days. Season 5 opens with her trying to survive by herself in an apocalyptic wasteland. She spends her journey narrating to him her unvarnished struggles during the most traumatic experience of her young life to date. Her despondency. Her loneliness. Her agony. Her desperation. Her small victories. Her discovered treasures. Her determination. Her doubt. Her guilt. Her defeat. Her morbid self-reflection. Her relief and contentment. Her happiness. Her admission of missing him. She shares all of it with only him. Only he is permitted to know her to this depth. Not any of her other people on the Ring. Not any of her people in the bunker, a group including her mother. Not a spiritual communion to the great, big love of her life Lxa, situated on her throne in the high heavens and waiting for her trophy wife, for Clarke to stay connected to her dearly departed. Isn't that the sort of behavior that might occur by a bereft widow?

After finding an oasis to rest and call home, even after discovering a companion to build a life with, she continues with her radio calls. It doesn't matter that he never received her communications. The importance of the gesture- the intimacy of sharing her life and thoughts with him while he was gone- remains the same. The magnitude of her devotion to him made clearer through the absence of a single responding utterance.

She lovingly tells Madi stories of Bellamy as her hero. Gazing warmly, hopefully up at the stars as if she longs for her vision to cut through an endless pitch-black sky and find dark curls and freckled constellations from thousands of miles away.

"Bellarke doesn't make sense," they say. They say because post-Praimfaya ended with an established B/E.

As Clarke looks up at the stars, questioning if she'll see Bellamy again, we transition to our first glimpse of Bellamy after six years, forlornly looking down on Earth to the very spot of green where he is unaware of who is yearning for him to return to her. Contrary to Clarke, who is covered in warm firelight when thinking of him, he is colored in cold, muted greys and blue, no speck of warm hue. (The rhyming scheme was unintentional, but hey, I'm going with it.) Behind him, his family is sparring, but he's distant from them. He's trapped within this tin can, his arms folded, his body taut, not facing the view on the other side of the glass, but still enraptured by the sight of his home below.

We see what changes to the characters and their dynamics have taken place until, at long last, we uproariously cheer as Bellamy & Co. find a way to return to Earth, the sole event we've been anticipating for eleven months, to the point we could feel it at our fingertips, jittery and tingly. Bellarke reunion!! He's going to know she's alive! Yes! Finally!! Break out the champagne! We're celebrating, dammit! It's going to be so damn emotional! Authors start crafting mental fanfics. People are bouncing off the walls like bright, errant fireworks, unable to sit still. I can't believe it's finally happening...what do you think it's going to be like? Will he run to her? Will he be stunned and speechless? Will they sob uncontrollably?!? They'll be clutching the life out of each other! Another Bellarke hug!! The very best hug!!! They're never going to let the other out of their sight again! He's going to meet Madi! Mom, dad, and adopted preteen make three!!! There's no way they're not getting together after this!! He just got her back after six years of thinking she was dead!! The reunion's not going to happen this episode, but maybe next week, when do you think? You mean we have to wait seven days before----

B e c h o.

We stood on the precipice of what we agonized and crawled through for eleven excruciating months, only for an anvil to drop, and our heads to be clubbed. Our bodies fell through the floor, descending lower and lower with immense haste, to take up residence in the seventh circle of hell.

Do you think the framing of these events wasn't intentional?

Do you think the powers that be behind the creation of that calamitous bombshell for our protagonist, intended for us to root for B/E?

By us, I'm not restricting the effect of the blow to Bellarke shippers. The entire audience, casual and fandom alike, shippers and non-shippers, was meant to await this reunion. We were all meant to feel devastated by this revelation.

If they didn't want to invoke in us feelings of support for B/E at their inception, how in the name of all things holy is a purported B/E endgame your conclusion?

"B/E doesn't make any sense," they say, "when last we saw them, she was his enemy. Nothing more, nothing less."

Do I think their pre-Praimfaya status as antagonists rendered it impossible for B/E to have a convincing love story or sexual relationship?

I think, if Jason were so inclined, we could have gotten flashback Ring rendezvous of secret trysts between Bellamy and a googly-eyed, blonde-wig-wearing broomstick designated Clarke 2.0. So no, I don't consider B/E a deviation inherently outside the realm of romantic possibility. Jason is an artist, and this show is his canvas. He can give life to almost any whim he'd like in his work of fiction. Not only that, but B/E is also hardly the first pairing in this series modeled by the enemies-to-lovers trope.

"Bellarke doesn't make sense, they'd say, "absent any concrete evidence alluding to a romantic relationship." "Seven years running, and not a trace of romantic love," they'd conclude.

Remind me, what was B/E's sublime prologue into coupling up again?

Furiously choking the life out of an enemy in a fit of rage two episodes before revealing her as his new girlfriend evidently can be considered by some an adequate precursor to a sensational romantic relationship. But endangering Earthkru's lives by risking the wrath of two societies in refusing to let Clarke die, pumping her heart for her to stay alive while begging her to fight so she can come back to him, cannot be.

Either this show is quite the oddity, or it’s fandom's periodic knee-jerk, ass-backwards, charming zeal at play.

The lack of rising development is all the more reason why B/E's grand unveiling demanded perfection. Instead, our first insight into their union is overshadowed by Clarke and the impending Bellarke reunion. B/E isn't central enough to the narrative to warrant focus that would put to rest any discord of illegitimacy. But you know which pair of the two is concentrated on for seven seasons now? Three guesses...

But don't despair. Fandom has decreed, by its own appraisal, the shorthand of kissing and sex has rectified the discrepancy of a complete absence of pertinent on-screen development.

"It's not ideal storytelling," they say, "to exclude B/E's development. But The 100 has historically been a plot-driven, fast-paced, contained drama. It has always evaded expanding on character dynamics to fans' satisfaction.”

The writers have done more to present Josephine and Gabriel as soulmates with less airtime than B/E ever had in total. They don't lack the skill or time to fortify B/E in anyone's mind as the central romance. Jason made a conscious choice not to. Why would he? Does he think the endgame love story of the show's deuteragonist doesn't merit attention to detail by the writing? Or does it seem more likely, it was never his intention for B/E to cross the finish line?

And, for a plot-driven, fast-paced, contained drama, they sure have an awful knack for finding the time to showcase Clarke's kicked puppy reactions to an embracing B/E. We've had three thus far. One for science, one for emphasis, and one to say, "Do you people get it now?"

"Bellarke doesn't make any sense," they say, "if they wanted each other, they'd have gotten together by now."

A long time ago, someone stated, "Lovers are supposed to do that you know and if they don’t do that it means their relationship isn’t romantic if sexual intercourse isn’t added."

And to that, I posed the question, "Where exactly is it written that "if a pairing is not made canon by season [insert arbitrarily chosen number here], it will never be made canon, period?" Was I just absent from fandom class that day and skipped to the lesson on slow-burn ships?" We are going into the final season, and I stand by this question today as I did then. Bellarke could refrain from physical expressions of love and candid confessions to season 17, and their journey could continue to exemplify a love story. Because the absence of either one doesn't preclude two people from falling in love. Nor does the inclusion of either one necessitate two people falling in love.

"Bellarke doesn't make any sense," they say. They say because Bellamy is her dearly beloved, but platonic, best friend.

Well, you've got me there. I'm stumped. How can it be possible for friendship and romantic love to behave as anything but mutually exclusive concepts? It's not as if friendship can be contorted to serve as a foundation for love.

The cornerstones of strong friendships include trust, care, support, devotion, and many other features of a similar nature. Love- deep and genuine love, that is- involves frequent kissing and passionate, vigorous sex. The wilder the display, the stronger the pairing. The dozens of couples, love interests, and sexual liaisons before B/E who have kissed and had sex before dying must not have first consulted the manual for proper protocol.

And the inverse? Once two people fall in love, they cannot fall back to say, a familial connection. No, no, no. Such a regression would be the work of a tragic, reprehensible flaw in the cogs of the universe. Speak nothing of it.

"It doesn't make sense for B/E to break up," they say, "when B/E has stayed together for two seasons sans any indication Bellamy loves Clarke more than Echo, enough to want to leave his loving girlfriend."

How many times has Bellamy tried and failed to honor his commitment to Echo? How many weak attempts are met with a corresponding scene of Bellamy shifting his attention to the girl he tells himself to get over?

Echo leaves for Shallow Valley, his focus immediately turns onto persuading Clarke not to leave his side. He symbolically chooses Echo in the fireside scene by touching her sword. Yet, he looks at his girlfriend for the first time since their separation with the most aloof expression unsuitable for the occasion. No hope to be found anywhere. They share a brief reunion hug, no time for intimacy. He is reunited with Clarke and casts a nervous glance at Echo when bombarded with Clarke's appreciative gaze. Still no time for intimacy between B/E before a decade-long nap, but time can be carved out for a warm, flirty Bellarke reconciliation, complete with intensive heart eyes. No inspired, emotionally wrought, double sunlit embraces for B/E. If Bellamy is going to look out of a window at his future home, he'll either be by himself or snuggling Clarke into his side. There's no place for Echo in the lock of his arms anymore, only room for flanking him in the way loyal lieutenants tend to do. His girlfriend glances over at him as their exploratory team roughly plummets to new territory, and he does the same at Clarke. B/E reconnects lakeside, him asking for a swim with her and leaning into her arms at a campfire. He sits by her side on a swing set, amidst talk of moving their people into an abandoned village. And it's all well and good for B/E, right? They're presenting the front of a happy, unified couple.

Until...Clarke walks away behind his sight, and he leaves Echo's side to seek Clarke's missing presence where the flirting and warm gazes and near confessions are kicked into overdrive. He calls Echo to hear his latest discovery, then proceeds to ignore the hell out of her, communicating exclusively to his co-leader. He stares wistfully at Clarke dancing with her new flavor of the night, cannot stop doing so even while excoriating Echo for her stoicism, expressing his frustration at her inability to fulfill his emotional needs.

He recommits to Echo, as Clarke is kidnapped and her body is stolen, with nary a transition, suggesting we are meant to link the two incidents together. For all his resolve to face the future with Echo, he spends the whole of the next episode with a wary eye on Clarke, to the point that he is the first to realize Clarke is not herself. In the ensuing arc ranging from 6x05 to 6x11, approximately half of the season, what was B/E, again? Was that a thing concurrently happening with Bellamy's Operation: Save My Clarke? Because I seem to be able to recall only Bellarke goodness. Oh, my mistake, there was the consoling hug which, oddly enough, did nothing to soothe him. As evidenced by his choice to grieve alone. No girlfriend he wanted close by for comfort, knowing clear as day she couldn't provide it if she tried. Not with who he just lost.

B/E gets another brief reunion hug, the majority of which is spent with him peering at Clarke. The show saw that hug and raised us an Austenesque-quality counterpart that would do Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy proud.

"B/E endgame is the only sensible outcome," they say, "they love each other so much."

I don't contend they don't love each other. But we are shown two people determined but incapable of snuffing their deep-rooted feelings out of noble propriety, and most importantly, out of needless fear of unrequited love. And another two people who sought- and failed- to keep grasping the wisps of a gentle relationship slipping out of their hands since they left their comfortable space bubble. For anyone in this conundrum to be happy, the only natural course of action is for the latter to call it quits. The writing has been on the wall for too long.

Maybe a single Bellarke scene plucked out of the lineup can be interpreted on its own as platonic buddies being platonic buddies. But when all those individual moments are woven together, what forms is an ornate tapestry with a pattern so vivid, any inane rhetoric involving a hint of the word "platonic" is little more than ludicrous anti drivel transparently cooked up by those wishing a different endgame.

I hope you've enjoyed my second long-winded rant, @sometimesrosy, @jeanie205, @travllingbunny. One born of a teaching moment in which I learn for the umpteenth time it's best to steer clear of Twitter.

#the 100 #bellarke #b/e #c/b/e #my post

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fe-th-trash · 4 years ago

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uh...hi

so like I’ve never done this before, but I desperately needed a creative outlet while doing my final papers and between playing FE:TH and listening to my playlist instead of studying, I got hit with an idea that’s been plaguing me for days, so please enjoy this likely awful first attempt at this if you’re reading this I’m sorry thank you! WC: 1600ish

CW: Pre & Post Time-Skip, Azure Moon potential spoilers, lil angst, lil cuteness

The sights and sounds of the training room were of the few things that time hadn’t run away with. It’d been five years, five long, painful, years with the Imperial Army wreaking havoc on any land beneath its feet. Countless civilian and soldier lives had been lost and for what? All in the hopes of--

“Oof!” You manage, a strike while you were taking in your surroundings sending you to the floor. “Ugh. I yield.” “You’re distracted.” Felix concludes fairly easily, looking down at you, “That was a terrible hit. I was testing you, you failed.” “Okay, okay. I get it. Maybe a little. I’m sorry.” You sigh, rising and dusting yourself off. “I just...Being here again...I didn’t think it was going to feel this strange.”

He forces air out of his nose audibly, shaking his head, “If you’re dwelling hard enough to let me land a hit like that, you’re going to get yourself killed on the battlefield. Reminisce all you want, some of us are here to prepare for what’s to come. Get yourself together. If you die...I’ll be annoyed.” He remarks, rolling his eyes as he turns, heading towards a training dummy that would undoubtedly be more of a fight than you were. If nothing else had remained, this was still the same Felix, that much is certain.

The same bitter, broken, boy he’d been for nearly a decade. It was almost refreshing that he’d stayed the same. One familiar tongue in cheek remark and the upward turning of his eyes and it’s as though you’re both 17 again, more worried about the Professor’s overloaded tactics lectures and class exams than...well, a war raging on beyond the confines of what used to feel so safe. Of what, despite its dilapidated and decaying structure, still somehow felt safe. After everything it had so clearly been through, it was still standing, and that had to be a sign.

You didn’t know if it was being here again, or being surrounded by familiar faces for the first time in years that was keeping your chest warm, but you sincerely hoped the others were feeling it too. For the first time in so long, despite the current state of ruin that had fallen on Garreg Mach, the fragility of the surrounding circumstances, the rabid bloodlust that had overtaken Dimitri, the uncertainty of what the next few months would hold...

At long last, you could feel it. Something you thought was lost long ago.

Hope.

You consciously tried to remember a time before the war as you took your leave of the training grounds and walked toward the corridor of classrooms. Felix was right, it was useless to train if your mind was otherwise occupied. It was a miracle they were still mostly intact, and you found yourself picturing your Academy days, drifting into a daydream as the sound of your shoes on the cobblestones drifted gently away, replaced by the sounds of a bustling courtyard.

Remembering your first day as a Blue Lion was an easy feat as you took the seat that used to be yours, in the very back of the room, where the professor would often catch you reading instead of listening to their lectures. It was one of those days, where you felt it necessary to do anything but pay attention that you’d find where you belonged, in of all places, detention.

Quietly scrubbing the blackboard thanks to your indiscretions, joined by Sylvain, who had pestered Felix into “accidentally” knocking an inkwell all over him, his desk, and the floor, Felix, who refused to apologize for the action, and Ingrid, peacefully standing in the doorway of the classroom, experiencing great joy at the hands of the two of them. Sylvain, who was meant to be mopping the floor, kept finding “missed spots” conveniently where Felix was working at cleaning the desks, knocking into him with the handle as he’d pass by and further annoying him, Ingrid suppressing her urge to both laugh at the action and scold each of them for being a nuisance to the other. It wasn’t long before Felix had stolen the mop from him and backed him up against the wall, Sylvain both smiling playfully as he looks down at him and holding his hands up, Ingrid shaking her head, bringing you into the world they’d created for themselves, “You’re free to crack either of them over the head with the broom in the closet if they get to be too much. I won’t tell the Professor.” “Tempting as that may be...” You joke, turning to watch along with her, drying your hands with one of the rags. “They are fairly entertaining.” “Don’t encourage them.” She warns, laughing a little as Sylvain sighs heavily, “Alright, alright. Enough. You can’t kill me with the ladies watching, especially not with such a blunt object.”

“Watch me.” Felix grumbles, shoving the handle into his chest with a thud and storming back to put the supplies away, Sylvain sporting a pout and rubbing where it’d hit, “Too far...noted.” He mutters, heading for the assist with extreme caution, leaving you to crack a smile as you take the dirty water out to the bushes, Ingrid assisting despite not being in trouble. “Sorry about them.” “Don’t worry, I find them entertaining. I look forward to the day Felix has finally had enough.” “That...is not a day I’d like to imagine. Planning Sylvain’s funeral won’t be fun, especially when a body can’t be found.” She jokes, the both of you laughing as you head back to the classroom, “Hey, are you two ready to quit quarrelling? They’re going to start serving dinner any minute!” “I never wanted to start. Goddess sake.”

Ingrid went on to invite you to dine with the three of them, something that greatly pleased Sylvain while simultaneously displeasing Felix. If there was anything he hated more than Sylvain’s antics, it was being forced to socialize, especially with people he didn’t already know. He’d chosen civility as a basis, but your disregard of Sylvain’s advances, and the fact you made Ingrid happy, quickly changed his mind. You didn’t know when exactly he’d started considering you a friend, but somewhere between the first time he’d called you a fool out of annoyance and long nights in the library studying by candlelight, you assumed he enjoyed your company, even if he’d never say as much.

“How did I know I’d find you here?” came his voice, startling you out of the depths of your mind. You hadn’t noticed the tears on your cheeks, brought on by days that would never happen again, until you turned toward the sound, him standing in the doorway, softening slightly when he saw the state of you. “I don’t know why you insist on torturing yourself.” he continues, heading inside the classroom, hesitating slightly as he passed his old desk.

“Fe...” You manage, wiping at your face, “It ended so...suddenly. Everything changed so fast. I just want...something to hold onto. You have to know what that’s like.” You attempt, looking over at him once again, him reluctantly levelling with you, sitting in the seat beside and looking across at the blackboard. “I do. And thinking of everything we didn’t get to do will only cause you pain. It’s foolish to sit here and think “what if” when there’s a war going on. If we are going to win, we need to keep our minds clear.” He says, looking to you. “After we’ve won, I’ll sit in the cathedral and help you light as many candles as you see fit. But for now...” he trails, rising once again, “...let me walk you back to your room. It’s dark out.”

You agreed with no words, rising and pushing your chair in like you’d done a thousand other times and taking his hand as he led you off into the night, holding on tightly. If this was yet another dream, you weren’t letting him go that easily.

Knowing you were in need of comfort, and not realizing just how much of his own was needed, he allowed this to continue all the way to your door, dropping your hand and turning toward you, your better judgment leaving you as you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him.

The following few seconds were quiet as he was tense, his arms eventually finding their place around you. It wasn’t the first time, nor the first willing time, but likely the most necessary time for both of you. And in a few seconds more, it was over. He pulls himself away, clearing his throat. “Sleep off the rest of your nonsense...save it for later.” “You sleep too...if anyone tells me you went back to the training grounds after this...”

“Tch.”

“Exactly my point. Please rest yourself.” You found yourself near pleading. The deaths of those you didn’t know weighed so heavily, you didn’t want to imagine what losing someone so dear would mean. He merely shakes his head a little in response, turning to leave, “As you wish. Goodnight.”

“...Fe?” He sighs, turning back toward you, “What? Need a bedtime story too?” “Do...you really think we’re going to win this?” You question, playing with your hands, unsure if you wanted an answer or just another minute of company as a gently and uniquely sly expression takes hold of him, his arms folding at his chest.

“Do you really think with the four of us together again, there’s any chance we’d lose?” He questions back, the warmth in you returning, that hopeful, optimistic feeling taking you over once again. “Of course not...goodnight Fe...thank you.”

“That’s what I thought. Enough of the foolishness...and get inside. Catching cold also does us no favors.” He says, an irritated tone that you knew by now was code for worry overtaking his voice, leaving you to smile and enter your room, gearing up to face the next day ready for what it throws at you.

All the while, Felix waits idly by to hear the clicking of the lock, the guarantee of your safety, before taking himself back to his own room, gently reminding himself of the pledge for “blades, blood, and battle” he’d made long ago, there being no time for anything but, no matter how it felt to finally hold your hand.

#fire emblem three houses #felix hugo fraldarius #felix x reader #fe3h #fe3h blue lions #fanfic #fanficton #firstpost #sylvain jose gautier #ingrid brandl galatea #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem three houses imagines #imagine #requests welcome #fire emblem x reader #fe16 #blue lions

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im-bakugous-bitch · 5 years ago

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Tenya Iida - First (NSFW!)

Notes: Not really sure how much I like how this came out but honestly I just got such bad writer’s block. Hope you enjoy though!

Prompts 16, 17, 33 16: "Will you be my first?" 17: "The way I feel when I'm with you..." 33: "Let me show you."

Tenya had been distant lately.

It was all you could think about. For days it seemed like he'd been dodging you; Avoiding text messages, taking every effort he could to stay away from you. Your heart hurt thinking about it, and you feared that you two had reached your end. The thought broke your heart, but if that was what he wanted you couldn't just tell him no. You loved him, even if he didn't love you.

You wanted to get the breakup over with if it was going to happen. Rip off that band-aid once and for all. If he was going to end a two-year relationship, why wait any longer. Graduation was rapidly approaching, anyway.

You'd decided that you'd ask him for tutoring - that was the only thing he would never say no to. You hoped that hadn't changed, even though he had.

It was the end of the school day, finally. Your leg was bouncing up and down from your anxious nerves, and once the bell finally rang your heart hammered in your chest. It was the moment of truth. You stood from your chair as soon as the bell went off and practically ran over to Tenya's seat, before he had time to run out of the room.

You put on a smile, as if nothing were wrong. "Hey Tenya," you said, adjusting your backpack strap over your shoulder. "Do you think you could maybe help me out with the homework tonight? I didn't quite understand the lesson today."

He looked up at you, but waited a moment before responding. Those few seconds felt like an eternity, and your heart sank as you knew your fate had been sealed. "I'm not sure if I'm available tonight, y/n. My apologies. Perhaps Yaoyorozu could help you tonight."

You sighed. Your heart was shattered; You knew it was over. You just had to rip the band-aid off. You took a deep breath and cleared your throat as he stood up. You looked up into his deep blue eyes, and found it in yourself to say the words:

"Are we finished?"

His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "I'm not quite sure I understand what you're referring to."

You bit your bottom lip. "You and me. Our relationship. Is it...over?"

His eyes widened. "What?! What on earth would make you think that?!"

You were so confused. If he wasn't going to break up with you, why would he be acting the way he was acting? "You-you've been avoiding me," you said. "You've been taking every effort not to spend time with me. I just figured..."

He shook his head. "y/n, I don't want to break up with you."

"Then why have you been acting this way?"

He sighed. "This isn't exactly the place to talk about it. How about tonight you come have dinner at my house, would that calm your fears?"

You nodded slightly. You felt almost selfish after all of this, but you didn't care. If this relationship was going to continue, Tenya was going to have to prove he was still interested. "But what about what you had to do that you couldn't tutor me?"

"I'll just finish it quickly." He took your hands in his and looked down into your eyes. "Tonight, you are my top priority. I promise."

You smiled slightly, feeling a bit reassured. "Thank you. What time should I be there?"

One side of his mouth twitched upward in a small smile. "How about seven?"

Your grin only grew bigger. "Sounds perfect. I'll be there." You leaned up onto your tip-toes to plant a light kiss on Tenya's cheek before making your way out of the classroom.

Your heart felt much lighter as you made your way home. You weren't exactly sure what had been going on with Tenya, but you felt much more reassured about your relationship. At least you knew it wasn't ending.

Once you got home, you sat down and stared at your homework. You had lied about not understanding it, but you couldn't focus on it. You were excited to finally be spending time with Tenya again. You decided you'd finish your homework after your dinner with him and went to take a shower.

Once the time for you to leave finally rolled around, you made the short walk to the Iida household. You rang the doorbell and rocked on the heels of your feet, looking down at your outfit. You weren't exactly sure how to dress for the occasion, so you'd put on a light blue button-down shirt and a black skirt with black flats. You knew how professional the family was, so you always opted to wear at least business-casual.

The door opened a moment later, and Tenya was standing in the doorway. He smiled down at you, opening the door wider for you to enter. "Come on in," he said.

You smiled back at him as you entered the house and he shut the door behind you.

"Dinner should be ready in just a few minutes," he said as he took your hand and led you through the halls. He brought you into the sitting room, sitting down beside you on one of the couches and holding your hand in his. "I want to apologize for me behavior as of late," he said, looking down at your intertwined hands. "I truly feel awful for making you worry."

You held his one hand in both of yours as you turned slightly on the couch to look at him. "Are you going to tell me what's been going on?"

He nodded. "Yes. After dinner, though."

As if on cue, someone walked into the room and nodded to Tenya and he stood up, taking you with him. "Dinner's ready," he said, leading you by the hand into the dining room.

He pulled your chair out for you from the table and scooted it back in once you were seated before sitting down across from you. Plates were placed on the table in front of you, and you smiled as the familiar scent of (your favorite food) filled your nose.

"You remembered," you said happily as you gave him another smile.

He nodded his head. "Of course I did, it's something you like." He smiled back at you as the two of you began eating.

It was so nice to finally spend time with him like this again. It felt like forever since you'd just sat down and talked. It calmed all of your nerves.

The dinner seemed to be over fairly quickly as your plates were taken away. Tenya stood up and walked over to you, holding out his hand for you to take. "Let's take a walk, shall we?"

You nodded as you took his hand, standing up. He seemed to know exactly where he was going as he led you through the house, up to a set of glass doors that led to a balcony. He held the door open for you, and when you stepped out you could hardly believe what you saw.

The sun was setting on the horizon over a beautiful garden. The sky was blue and purple and black as day turned to night, and you could only stare in awe at the sight in front of you.

Tenya stood beside you at the railing, wrapping one of his arms around your waist. "Beautiful, is it not?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but had a hard time forming the words. You finally managed to say something, but it hardly expressed what you were feeling. "It's breathtaking," you said quietly.

You heard him chuckle lightly. "The way I feel when I'm with you... It's a lot like you looking at this sunset. I can't find the words to express just how beautiful it is, and how happy it makes me inside."

Your cheeks heated up slightly as you looked up at him. "Then why have you been so distant?"

He took a deep breath. "There's been something I've been wanting to ask you, but every time I think about it I get embarrassed."

Your heart began hammering out of your chest. What on earth could he possibly be embarrassed to ask you? "Don't be afraid," you said as you turned so you were directly facing him. You took his hands in yours and smiled up at him. "Don't be afraid of me, Tenya."

He nodded slowly. He seemed to take a moment, putting together his words, before he finally spoke. "We've been together for over two years at this point. Ever since first year, you've been the light of my life. And recently I started thinking..." He seemed to struggle for words. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Recently I started thinking that we're... We're older. We're young adults. And young adults in relationships sometimes..." He looked away from you, out to the sunset. "I don't know how else to say it, so I suppose I should be up-front. I don't want you to feel pressured at all and if you're uncomfortable talking about this I'll never bring it up again. y/n, will you be my first?"

Your eyes slowly widened as you realized what he was asking. He wanted to have sex. You had to take a moment to stop and think about it, though. It wasn't like you hadn't thought about it. You'd been dating him for two years, you loved him with all your heart, and you were bound to have your first time eventually. It should be with someone you love and trust. "Yes," you said quietly.

He turned to face you again. "Are you sure? You don't have to."

You nodded your head. "I love you, Tenya. I want to be with you."

He smiled. "I love you too." He pulled you close and held you tightly before clearing his throat. "How about right now?"

You giggled against him. "Sounds good to me." You pulled out of the hug to look up at him, slightly embarrassed as your face turned light red. "I do have to warn you though...I don't have much clue as to what I'm doing."

He lifted his hands up to cup your face gently. "Let me show you." He brought his face down to yours and connected your lips. Your arms reached up to hang around his neck, pulling him closer as he slowly licked your bottom lip.

You opened your mouth and immediately let him have dominance, but only for a moment until he pulled away. "Come with me," he said, taking your hand again and bringing you back inside. He led you down a hallway and opened a door, revealing a rather plain bedroom. He ushered you inside and shut the door. "If at any point you're uncomfortable, just tell me and I'll stop immediately."

You nodded. You took a quick glance around the room, stopping at the bed. It was rather large, but you couldn't miss the small white envelope sitting on the pillow. "What's that?" you asked, motioning your head toward the pillow.

"I'm not sure," he said as he walked over to it. He picked it up and opened it, pulling out a piece of paper and a small blue package. His eyes scanned the paper for a moment, before putting it face-down on his nightstand and placing the small blue package on top of it.

"Well?" you asked, curious as to what it could be.

He cleared his throat. "It was uhm- It was a letter. From my brother."

Your heart began racing slightly. "Y-your brother knows?"

He looked down at the ground. "I was asking him for advice...I wasn't sure how to approach this, and you know how I look up to Tensei."

You giggled, walking over to him. "I think it's sweet." You leaned up on your toes and gave him a peck on the lips. "What's the letter say?"

His face flushed slightly. "Be safe. And he included this." He held up the small blue package, and you finally realized what it was - a condom. He put it down on the nightstand and looked down into your eyes. "You're sure you want to do this?"

You took a deep breath, nodding your head. "Yes."

He again reached down to gently cup your face as he connected his lips to yours. He gently pulled you down so you were both sitting on the edge of the bed, and he reached to undo one of the buttons on your shirt. He pulled back from your kiss to look at you, asking if it was okay.

You giggled lightly and nodded. "Can I tell you something, Tenya?"

He nodded. "Of course, what is it?"

You grabbed onto one of the buttons on your shirt, holding it out to him. "I think that you need to be more confident about all this. I said yes, and if I change my mind I'll tell you to stop. Be confident, it's sexy."

He smiled slightly. "If you say so." He gently pushed you back on the bed, so you were laying down. You yelped in surprise as he immediately began working on your buttons, undoing them one by one. He moved so he was sitting over you, and connected your lips again as he undid the last of the buttons. He pulled your arms from the sleeves and immediately began exploring your body with one hand while the other held him hovering above you.

You reached up to pull at his shirt buttons as your head began swimming. This was happening - this was really happening. You were going to have sex with Tenya. Your cheeks heated up as you grew more excited, and you began to feel it in your womanhood.

He moved down from your lips to your neck, leaving light kisses on your skin as he moved. You continued working on his shirt, eventually pulling the last button free. You practically tore it off his body, staring in awe at the carefully sculpted body before you. You'd seen how built Tenya was when he wore the school training uniform, but you'd never seen him without a shirt.

It. Was. Magnificent.

You smiled to yourself, reveling in the fact that this man was all yours. You ran your hand down his bare chest as he moved back up to kiss your lips again, reaching for the waistband of your skirt. you lifted your ass off the bed so he could pull it down, and you had to hold in a small gasp when he took your underwear with it.

He stood up form hovering over you, and you took this chance to move back on the bed so your legs weren't hanging off the side. You were completely naked, except for your bra, and watched as Tenya carefully undid his belt and pulled his pants down. He left his underwear up, though, so you couldn't see his erection quite yet. Though guessing by the size of the bulge in his underwear, it was big.

He climbed back onto the bed, straddling your waist as he cupped your face in his hands and brought his lips to yours yet again. One of his hands began to roam down your body; down your neck, over your still-clothed breasts, over your stomach, until reaching your bare thigh.

You leaned your head back in pleasure as his hand finally found its way to your sensitive area and began circling your clit. You moaned quietly as he moved his lips back down to your neck, now biting the skin gently. When he bit down on one spot directly beneath your jawbone, you let out a louder moan.

He moved his finger from your clit, running his finger gently over your slit a couple of times before putting one of his fingers inside.

You winced slightly, but tried not to cry out. If he thought he was hurting you, he'd stop. But you couldn't let him - not when it felt so good.

You pulled yourself together enough to lean your head forward a little, so you could also leave small bites on Tenya's neck. One of your hands trailed down his body until reaching his crotch, where you began to palm him through his underwear.

He groaned, ceasing his attack on your neck. He began curling his one finger inside of you, causing you to let out a matching groan as you lost your focus again and leaned your head back.

It wasn't long until he inserted a second finger and pulled his body away from you entirely, except for his fingers. His eyes raked down your now naked figure - wait, when had he taken your bra off? - studying you. "You're remarkable," he whispered as his fingers began a scissoring motion inside of you.

You gasped as you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt yourself being stretched, but it didn't hurt so bad. It felt so good, the little bit of pain was completely forgotten.

After a few more scissors, he pulled his hand from your sopping core. You looked up at him with wide eyes. "Why'd you stop?!" you demanded.

He smiled down at you. "We're getting to the best part." He pulled down his own underpants, and you finally got a good look at his erection. It was huge, at least eight inches long. You couldn't even measure the girth before you were pushed back against the bed gently, and Tenya hovered over you.

"Are you ready?" he asked, looking down at you with concern as he reached for the condom. You nodded as he put it on himself, and he took a deep breath before guiding himself through your entrance.

As soon as the tip was in, you screamed slightly. It hurt, way more than his fingers had.

He stopped immediately, looking down at you. "y/n? Are you okay?"

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut to keep from tearing up. "Yup," you said. "Keep going."

He hesitate a moment before pushing himself a little deeper in, stopping when he heard you cry out again. "y/n I'm hurting you-"

"It's supposed to hurt," you cut him off. "Just get all the way in, okay? Then I'll take some time to get used to it."

He nodded, though unassured, and kept going. You let out another muffled cry, but soon he was completely inside of you.

You kept your eyes shut as you adjusted to the feeling. Tenya was inside of you. You were really doing this. You grew even more excited, and after only a short moment you wrapped your legs around Tenya's waist, pushing him farther into you.

He took the signal and began moving inside of you; slowly at first, but slowly building up pace. Within just a few minutes he was pulling himself out almost entirely and shoving his whole dick back into you, causing you to let out guttural moans.

He grunted into your neck as his lips met your skin over and over, leaving small bite marks and sucking on the skin everywhere he went.

It wasn't long before you felt it. Your stomach felt like it was tying itself up, and you knew what was about to happen. "Tenya-" you gasped out, throwing your head back as he rammed into you over and over. "Tenya don't stop- Please I'm so close-!"

He nodded from above you, using both of his arms to hold his upper body over you as he shove himself into you again and again. "I'm almost there-" he said.

On a whim, you reached your hand down to where his skin was meeting yours. You found the soft skin beside your colliding areas and began playing with it in your hand.

He let out a louder groan. "y/n-!" he called out. "Oh, I'm close. I want you to release for me, can you do that?"

You nodded as you threw your head back again and thrusted up against him, pushing him a little bit deeper inside of you. A couple strokes of that and suddenly you felt it all wash away as this wave of euphoria came over you, and you felt something hot shooting out inside you.

Tenya waited a moment before pulling out of you and disposing of the condom. he laid beside you on the bed, taking you in his arms and saying, "Did you enjoy that?"

You nodded your head as you caught your breath. "Oh yeah. Did you?"

He nodded his head. "Immensely."

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justimajin · 5 years ago

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It’s a Reverse Basket ◍ Part 18

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU

⇝ Words: 5.6k

⇝ Summary: Basketball is your everything; your passion for it running deep and wanting nothing more then to play the sport. Problem is, the sport isn’t offered competitively to girls and with that, all your hopes immediately fizzle away… …but who ever said that was going to stop you?

⇝ Warnings: pg13; we’re still on an angsty train

gif credit.

⇝ Previous Parts: Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

⇝ Next Update: Tuesday, July 14

Your calendar has been marked with multiple clumsy crosses, a pattern following the giant date circled in a bright reddish hue.

Tomorrow’s date.

Your initial reaction is to be excited, anticipation building up in the pit of your stomach and a wave of euphoria surging out. You’ve been waiting for this opportunity since the day you joined the team, the chance of professionally playing in nationals seeming like a far-fetched dream until now.

And yet the experience in preparing for the blissful moment is nothing like that.

A sudden rift occurs with your practices, the wheel changing course completely. Before it was about achieving your personal best and being lenient towards ensuring you were capable enough to play during games – but now, now it was about training vigorously until you perfected every single flaw, painless mistakes no longer being tolerated.

It’s as if someone took the dial and raised it up to a turbulent rampage, absolutely nothing bracing you from the ramifications.

“Something isn’t right.” Jinyoung ticks, his eyes sending a venomous glare in Hoseok’s direction, “You’re not taking this seriously enough.”

Hoseok pauses in the midst of dribbling, form tensing up, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means your shots have gotten weaker Jung,” Jinyoung scoffs, eyes narrowing onto Hoseok’s current stance, “Who even takes that many steps while shooting?”

The basketball in Hoseok’s hands suddenly slams onto the ground, his hands clenched in fists as he strides over to Jinyoung.

“My shots are perfectly fine, okay? If there’s something you want to criticize then maybe you should work on your shitty passing skills.”

The cord completely snaps and before you know it, Hoseok and Jinyoung are lunging at each other. A whistle breaks through the silence and immediately there’s two hands pushing them away, Namjoon’s eyes emitting a fiery edge.

“Both of you, calm down!” You’re taken aback by the sharpness in his voice, watching him step back when Hoseok and Jinyoung leave some space in between.

Namjoon huffs like he’s been running a marathon, “I know things are stressful right now, but the last thing we need to do is take it out on each other.”

Both of them stay mute and Namjoon sighs, “If there’s a problem, then work on it. There’s no need for all this.”

He gestures to the distance they’ve created and Jinyoung rolls his eyes, snatching a basketball and stalking away. Hoseok stays put instead, crossing his arms with a distasteful pout on his lips.

Namjoon sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose. He whirls around, staring helplessly at the remaining members.

“Everyone else, continue practicing.” When that earns him a nod, he walks away, frustration still lingering on his features.

You turn to Jungkook and Taehyung at his departure, who don’t seem as fazed as you do with the argument.

“Is it always like this?”

“Pretty much.” Taehyung exhales, “I’m surprised it was Hoseok this time around though, he’s not the type to be involved in fights like that.”

You hum, eyes wandering over to his deflated form, “I guess the stress of nationals can get to anybody…”

“It’s a lot when you think about it. Ten games against ten different schools, having to beat all of them in order to win the championship.” Taehyung glances at Jungkook, “It’s been hard, right?”

“It’s even harder if you get injured, because then you can’t even participate anymore.” Jungkook quietly mutters.

“If Bangtan wins this year, wouldn’t it be your third time in a row?” You ponder, but Taehyung and Jungkook visibly shudder at the thought.

“If we can survive that is…” Taehyung whispers, looking more dismayed than you’ve ever seen him. Jungkook nods, acknowledging a factor that you hadn’t taken into consideration.

“The competition has gotten worse. Just think about it, anyone would be gearing up to defeat the Bangtan Sondeyeon after we’ve been successful for two years in a row.”

“There’s a lot of people trying to take you down…” You quietly say.

Jungkook hums, starting to dribble his basketball again with a sad smile, “There’s more than you can imagine Y/N.”

He whips around, occupying himself with practice again. You clutch your basketball tighter, the words replaying in your mind over and over again. You had always known about Bangtan’s history for a while, but now that you’re a part of them, it’s strange to know how clouded their victory’s have become because of those wanting to take their title for themselves.

With a sigh, you attempt to dribble again, failing to properly get a flow as the looming atmosphere draws heavier on you. Taking a glimpse around, you suppose its for the best if you step out for a moment.

***

Thankfully the atmosphere outside isn’t as threatening and suffocating as the one inside the gym. You end up planting yourself down on a bench near the lockers, watching the volleyball team practice for a game through the thin glass of their practice room.

Your ears perk up at the sound of footsteps shuffling, making their way over to the bench before a weight sinks down. From the corner of your eye, you can see his hand is placed on top of his cheek as he observes the game you’re watching.

“Why are you out here?” You inquire, noticing how Namjoon had been the only one inside the gym throughout the entire practice.

“Same reason as you.” Yoongi simply says, “The tension in the gym is usually at its max during this time of the year.”

You hum, eyes drawing onto the way a player serves the volleyball, “But are nationals really that bad? To the point where it’s hard to even stay in the gym?”

“Depends.” Yoongi leans back on the bench, following the flying volleyball with his line of sight as well, “Nationals are just like any other game with the only difference being the stakes are now higher.”

“What about the competition though? I heard there’s a lot of people wanting to see our team lose.”

“There’s always going to be people who hate you.” Yoongi smirks, “So doesn’t that give us even more of a reason to prove that they’re underestimating our team?”

You chuckle at that and he softly smiles, “That’s true…I just hope we can all get through this. After all, that’s what I came here for…”

The volleyball abruptly strikes the ground, a point being called in for the other team as the referee blows a whistle. Your somber eyes watch it roll away, only blinking when you feel the warmth of Yoongi’s hand draw closer to your own.

You glance at him but he’s still trained on the way the team quickly creates a huddle, discussing a new strategy all together.

“This is your first time playing at nationals. I can’t say you’re completely inexperienced playing professionally anymore but this isn’t something you’ve dealt with before,” He faces you now, stare intent, “So it really comes down to if you want to do this or not.”

The tone Yoongi uses is utterly blunt and you appreciate the honesty. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what happens or what doesn’t happen. What matters most is if you want to do this and if you’re prepared to see it through to the finish line.

You sigh, watching the team depart and try again in the game. “This is exactly what I wanted to sign myself up for, so I think it would be a shame if I didn’t see it all the way to the end.”

Yoongi nods, a small smile curling on his lips as he refocuses back on the thin glass. The ball harshly slams onto the wall, rolling over onto the opposing team’s ground.

“Isn’t that a foul?” You lean forward, brows contorted. Yoongi narrows his eyes as well, humming in agreement. The referee then retrieves the ball, changing the score to an additional point for the team as they erupt into a loud cheer.

“Oh.” Both you and Yoongi mutter at the same time, exchanging a genuinely surprised look with one another in a moment of drawn out silence. Your collective attention is diverted back to the scoreboard, watching the team's new point get added on.

“I guess it’s a relief we chose to become basketball players instead.” Yoongi whispers, but your ears manage to catch onto it and your body shakes as you laugh. Yoongi smiles, getting up from the bench and reaching his hand out to you.

“Come on. Let’s head back to the gym before we make anymore bad predictions.” You smile as you take his hand, briefly peering back in confusion at the game’s rules. You eventually shrug it off by the time you and Yoongi reach the gym doors, knowing that at this crucial point in time there was an entirely different game waiting for you behind those doors.

***

You suck in a deep breath.

The first game is luckily scheduled to take place at your school, but the moment you cross paths with the other team, you catch sight of a certain someone you didn’t know you would be facing.

He kindly smiles, though it completely contradicts the nuanced look he holds in his eyes when he glides past you. Nothing major seems to have changed in his appearance, the same shade of blonde hair and characteristic confidence radiating off of him as if you had just seen him yesterday.

“Who knew Bangtan would ever have such cute players?” Seokjin sing-songs, joining his team from across you. Taehyung holds back a scowl beside you, his eyes sending daggers in Seokjin’s direction.

You on the other hand, attempt to shrink just enough to hide behind Taehyung, not needing to be told twice about the team’s rival captain. Even though you had thoroughly prepared yourself for the start of nationals, nothing could have prepared you enough for the team you were about to face.

Namjoon strides in, being followed by Yoongi who is dressed in his signature jersey just like the rest of you. As Namjoon darts into the gym to check on the set-up, Yoongi stands in front of his team’s line-up as you all patiently wait to be called into the gym. Being fully aware that you’ll be stuck waiting for a couple of minutes, a smile quips on Seokjin’s lips.

“It’s going to be quite the game out there.” He sighs, a cheeky stare directed at you, “Don’t you think, Y/N?”

You wonder why he would even consider focusing on you when you’re currently using Taehyung as a shield and avoiding all eye-contact, but when you hesitate and try to answer, another voice cuts in.

“It sure is. Starting off nationals by defeating your team is definitely going to be a treat.”

You naively blink for a moment when Yoongi smirks, crossing his arms and standing head to head with Seokjin. Anyone in a distance can see the pure electricity brewing in between them from the way they stare at each other and you notice that Yoongi’s response almost pulls something else out of Seokjin, his friendly demeanour diminishing.

“You’re crossing bit of a line, Captain Min.” Seokjin presses, aware that Yoongi was throwing these words out in the open where everyone including the opposing team can hear them.

Yoongi however, frankly doesn’t seem to care. He steps forward, startling you a bit when he abruptly stands right in front of you.

“You’ve already crossed a line, Captain Kim.” Yoongi grits out, your eyes widening when the air between them grows even thicker. Taking a sideways glance at Taehyung, you realize he’s grinning at Yoongi’s posture and for some reason, it makes you suddenly extremely flustered.

Thankfully, Namjoon soon returns. Yoongi steps back and gets into the line-up, listening intently as Namjoon quickly briefs the entire team.

The gym doors finally crack open and a tsunami of roars erupt into the air. Your eyes can only dramatically widen at the sight of the bleachers, rows of people lined up on their seats just to see you play. The large fluorescent lights hanging on the ceiling give you a clear view of the many faces present, including a handful that have you breaking out into a huge grin.

Junki is standing up and enthusiastically waving in your direction, Yoonji sitting beside him with her legs crossed and a knowing smirk on her features. Your eyes are drawn over to the elder man seated adjacent to her, a deep scowl maring his lips at the unforeseen raise of volume near him. When you do make eye contact, his expression naturally doesn’t change in the slightest, but you genuinely smile when his line of sight is seemingly attached to Yoongi’s every step.

You tug on the back of Yoongi’s jersey and he swivels, taking a glimpse in your direction in bewilderment until you maneuver him to look in that one single spot in the bleachers. His eyes make contact with his father’s right away and neither display a reaction. However, your eyes grow tender when Yoongi scoffs, a small unmistaken smile gracing his lips.

Once you’re left standing in the centre of the court, you can only marvel at how different your gym appears. Since the stakes are immensely higher now, your gym appears to have been redesigned to compensate for a larger crowd and competitive game. The lines that are used on the grounds are now outstretched for more room, the bleachers have been expanded to fit around the entire room and the lights flashing above the new and improved scoreboard are more eye-catching.

You’re almost taken back to the game you and Yoongi watched in the stadium, everything being on a much grander scale with hiked up tensions.

After you’ve had your fair share of gaping at the court in pure awe, you redirect your focus back onto the team surrounding you. This time around, Namjoon had chosen you, Yoongi, Jungkook, Hoseok and Jimin to play, creating a nicer blend of offense and defense compared to the last time you had faced off with this team.

Speaking of which, you can only anxiously catch glimpses at Yoongi every so often when he’s basically glaring at Seokjin from across him, the latter only growing more and more relied up as Yoongi surprisingly doesn’t appear to be backing down. You take a deep breath, the spiteful memories of what occurred last time still remaining all too fresh in the back of your mind.

The referee strides in, adorned in a bright black and white shirt with a whistle strung around his neck and the light in the room reflecting off the basketball he carries. Standing right in front of Seokjin and Yoongi, he takes a quick survey around to ensure all players are remaining inside the lines before he resumes his attention back to the basketball.

“This is game one out of ten. Whichever team secures victory today will advance into game two of nationals and be a step forward to earning the title for this year’s league.” The referee declares, his voice resonating through the large speakers positioned at each end of the basket. “First team to three points wins.”

Everyone nods in a consensus as the referee’s eyes roam around. He grabs onto his whistle, bringing it to his mouth and eliciting the whole crowd to calm down, the room cutting into a tense silence.

The sharp sound of the whistle breaks it as the basketball is launched into the air, Seokjin and Yoongi both simultaneously lunging for it. Yoongi strikes the side of it with his fist and the ball goes slamming onto the ground, resulting in a cascade of scrambling from every person present on the court.

Jungkook manages to get a grasp on the basketball, accelerating his speed tenfold to avoid all the eager hands in his path. His feet skate against the floor until a sudden impact from behind loosens his grip, a member on the opposing team racing towards your basket.

You and Jimin jump at the opportunity of halting him in his steps, but he still tries to bypass it and takes a shot.

His aim thankfully doesn’t allow for that and Jimin hurriedly snatches up the ball before passing it along to you. Hoseok catches your sight and you throw it in his direction, his legs skyrocketing in order to clasp onto the flying ball.

But when Hoseok turns, he’s completely surrounded. He tries his best to somehow soar through it all, however it soon morphs into a game of cat and mouse when the ball gets passed back and forth.

The loud buzzer breaks the vigor of the game, your eyes landing on the giant red timer that has run out of it’s minutes. The referee blows his whistle and you all intervene at the centre again, this time huffing compared to before.

Seokjin takes charge of the ball this time, swooping to pass it to one of his members behind him. You recall his strategy of bulleting through the swarm of players to get a point within a couple of seconds, but his plans are foiled when Yoongi intercepts the ball.

A tick leaves him when he’s left with no empty space, becoming increasingly trapped the longer he searches for a member to pass the ball to. But when your shoes loudly squeak behind him, Yoongi grits his teeth and practically throws the ball in your direction before he’s completely overtaken by the other team.

You eye the disappearing numbers on the timer when you pivot around, taking notice of Jungkook’s jersey number flashing by from the corner of your eye. Hastily propelling the ball over to him, Jungkook considers the time you have as well when he decides to increase his speed immensely.

You sprint alongside him, navigating yourself against the sea of people as he reaches the basket. He shoots before they can catch up to him and you stand beneath the basket, prepared to send the ball in his direction in case he misses.

He doesn’t.

A sigh of relief leaves you the same time the buzzer resonates through the room. Jungkook high-fives you with an exhausted smile and you swipe the perspiration dripping from your face before jogging back into position.

When the ball is tossed into the air again, Seokjin catches it. Despite all of Yoongi’s strikes at retrieving the ball, he soars past him and throws it to one of his members.

Hoseok is the first one up on his heels, bolting across the court to somehow deflect the ball. It nicks past his fingertips and lands into the opposing team’s hands, who then races over to your basket.

Although Jimin jumps to push the ball out of the member’s grasp, it ends up heading straight for the hoop and the buzzer sounds.

The scoreboard illuminates the giant one to one ratio and you narrow your eyes at the timer, fifteen minutes having flown by like they were mere seconds. Resuming your stance on the court, the referee signals for the next game to begin and you instantly race for the opportunity.

Yoongi is successful with getting the basketball in his clutches, whirling around to send it in your direction. You then pass it over to Jimin, who unfortunately gets intercepted by one of Seokjin’s members, the ball escaping from his hands and passed down to the opposing team’s captain instead.

As soon as Seokjin starts sprinting, Jungkook tailgates after him. The captain is cut short of options with Jungkook’s constant blocking, the pent-up frustration building inside him when he takes a sudden pause and is forced to scan around.

One of his members comes into view and he has no choice but to try his luck. The ball is propelled towards that member, their hands so close to grasping it until another firm hand shoots out.

You wince when the ball practically smacks against your hand, but you keep a tightened grip on it and clench your teeth. Hoseok appears in sight and you bounce it towards him, hope spiking within you as he grabs it and the air swooshes near him.

Carefully eyeing the timer, you can only pray that he gets to the basket before the buzzer sounds, but it seems like he ran into some trouble when the ball is smacked out of his hands. Your eyes widen when the direction is suddenly changed, your basket left guarded only by Jimin.

With a shape inhale, you’re left scurrying over to the player that has his hands on the basketball, intercepting right away when he shoots. Gritting your teeth, your feet dramatically escalate and you begin sprinting up a storm while avoiding any of the other’s team attempts. Everything morphs into a blur when all you know is that you’re running out of time and the sooner the ball in your hands gets into the basket, the sooner you’ll be at winning this game.

You hastily hurl the basketball into the hoop, gasping for air when your feet land back onto the ground. It sinks right in and the buzzer loudly resonates, but you nearly collapse onto your knees.

“Half-time!” The referee declares, allowing both teams to have a ten-minute break before resuming the game. You pant in relief, the sound of your teammate’s voice tugging you out of your immediate exhaustion.

“Nice one Y/N!” Hoseok places his hands on your shoulders, nearly toppling over you in the process.

Jungkook and Taehyung soon follow, slumping onto the ground abruptly in a way that makes you laugh. Yoongi marches over as well, his eyes quirking up at how Hoseok is practically glued to you. He pokes him with his foot, directing his gaze to the spot next to you.

Hoseok slides over and Yoongi plops down, appearing as fatigued as the rest of the members around you. It’s a little strange to see your team tired out so soon when this is normally how you appear after the game is done, but you’re aware that nationals is a whole other story.

Namjoon finds all of you on the floor, having jogged over with a handful of water bottles in his hands. He chuckles when there’s a collective sigh of gratitude from his appearance, handing them out to every member before he sits down too.

“We just need one more point.” Namjoon hurriedly states, eyes flickering over to the giant illuminated scoreboard, “How are you guys feeling so far?”

“Like I’m dying.” Yoongi sarcastically mutters, earning a baffled look from Namjoon. He lowers his water bottle down, pointing at the other team, “What do you think are the chances of them catching up?”

“It’s hard to say…” Namjoon narrows his eyes at Seokjin, a questionable gaze in them, “I’m more worried about the Captain than anything else.”

“I agree.” Yoongi takes a sip of his water, eyeing the timer.

“We won’t have much time to finish this game, so we need to make every minute count.” You all nod at Yoongi’s words, too aware that the only way to win this match is to get ahead.

After the ten minutes are done, you strain against your body to stand up. You’re extremely grateful when Yoongi reaches out a hand and tugs you up, the soreness radiating in your legs not aiding you much with the matter.

Heading back to the court, your eyes scan the opposite team. They appear to be in the same condition as the majority of you – heavy breaths escaping them and their jersey’s absolutely drenched with sweat. It gives some hope that you’re not the only ones suffering underneath the brutality of the game conditions, luckily recuperating enough to make it onto the court once more.

You instantly snap into action at the sound of the whistle. Seokjin snatches up the ball, seemingly more determined now to knab a basket than ever before.

Yoongi is right on his toes every time Seokjin checks around for someone to pass the ball to. He ends up being blocked entirely and the ball lands in Jimin’s hands, who dribbles and sprints away.

You accelerate your speed so that Jimin has someone to transfer it to, but unfortunately he spots Jungkook surrounded and decides to give it to him instead.

The ball barely makes it to him and Seokjin secures it in his grasp once again. He quickly tosses it to another one of his members and before you can do anything, the ball loops through your basket.

You sigh in exasperation and Yoongi appears right beside you, his keen eyes observing the scoreboard.

You know exactly what he’s thinking when the two matching numbers appear.

You were tied.

Being cornered into a box now, the next step you take can make or break your next step into nationals. With an unwavering stare and tightened jaw, you wait for the referee to make his way back to the middle of the court.

Sucking in a sharp inhale, the last whistle of today’s game is blown and you practically bolt. Your feet loudly trample against the floor when Yoongi has grabbed the ball, stretching out your arms in a desperate attempt for him to pass to you.

Your vision is completely blocked.

Your brows contort at the sudden appearance in front of you, scattering to catch a glimpse of the basketball when you are yet again seeing nothing but the large font of the opposing team’s jersey. From the corner of your eye, the timer is rapidly decreasing and the crowd is peaking with their cheers so with a clench of your fists, you pace yourself and create your own view.

Seokjin runs right when you do, his last resort turning out to be a repetition of the last game you had with him. However, this time it’s no longer taken as a storm of surprise by you.

Yoongi finds your eyes right away and he takes a long jump, sending the ball flying over. A huge smile gracing your lips when it makes contact with your hands and you begin dribbling towards the opposite team’s basket.

Yoongi seems to catch on what exactly the captain following you is doing, so he ensures he has enough space for you to keep making passes to him when he gets close. The strategy seemingly works out and you find yourself right below the basket, quickly swiveling to see the timer running to it’s dear end.

Before anyone gets ahead of you, the risky move of taking the final shot is placed into your hands as the ball is sent whirling towards the basket. Deep heaves are escaping you by the minute as you anxiously watch, eyes widening and your hands coming across to cover your mouth when it plunges in.

The loud buzzer rings and for a moment, everything tunes out. You’re trembling to the verge of frantically shaking and tears well up in your eyes. When you twist around, you see the shock overcoming Yoongi’s exhausted features for a split second before they solidify into absolute joy.

All you can do is smile and tightly embrace him back when he tugs you into his arms, the exhilaration drumming through him.

“You did it!” Yoongi exclaims, separating from you in awe as you sheepishly smile. “I could just kiss you right now.”

Both your eyes widen at the words he’s just blurted out and Yoongi completely separates from you in realization. A small giggle bubbles up in you from his embarrassment, but soon you’re being embraced by a clutter of your own teammates.

“WE WON!” Hoseok shrieks, his loud voice in your ear making you wince.

“We’re heading into round two!!” Jungkook joins in, eyes crinkled and a wide grin on his lips. Jimin smiles graciously next to him, ecstatic with the victory.

“Yah, don’t get so happy yet. We still have nine more games to go.” Yoongi scolds, though Namjoon comes up behind him and laughs.

“At least we overcame the first obstacle Yoongi.” He smiles, “Really good work guys. Looks like all that training and hard work paid off, you should be really proud of yourselves.”

You warmly grin at that, feeling someone poke the side of your arm. Twisting around, Yoonji holds a smug smile.

“That was a good game.” She admits, “You guys aren’t so bad at this after all.”

“Yoonji, how could you say that!?” Junki’s voice breaks out, “It was so amazing to watch. You two were fantastic!”

He darts his eyes frantically between you and Yoongi, a bashful smile curling at the corner of your lips. But Yoongi’s victorious expression completely falls when a third person approaches him, your eyes widening.

“I suppose you were decent…” His father mumbles, still holding an impassable expression.

Yoongi’s lips quirk up, his words firm, “I’m going to continue playing either way.”

His father hums, but there’s no distaste in his tone anymore, “Good luck with that.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen and you can feel him shift next to you to say something, but his father turns to Junki and Yoonji.

“Let’s get going now.” You smile when he gestures to not hold the exhausted team up for any longer to Yoongi’s brother and sister. You return Junki’s wave and Yoonji’s smile, watching them depart.

When you face Yoongi, you catch the soft smile he holds from the interaction, his eyes tenderly meeting yours. His smile ends up being contagious and you eventually reach out your hand, letting him tightly hold onto you.

***

The aftermath of the game is like a wave of ecstasy.

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won, that you’ve taken the first step towards the dream you had been endlessly chasing after for so long. The cherry on top was to see Yoongi’s father appear at the game, his demeanour shifting from the last time you had seen him and the lasting effects of it being apparent on Yoongi.

That being said, you glance down at the device clutched firmly in your hands. Your thoughts are aimlessly swimming, bouncing back and forth the longer you simply stare at it.

With a rush of encouragement, you call back.

On the second ring, a voice speaks. “Hello?”

“Uh, I-“ You suddenly stammer, attempting to recollect yourself, “I-It’s me…Y/N.”

The line on the other side goes completely silent and you tap your feet against the ground, the cool breeze outside of the gym nipping at your skin.

“Y/N?” There’s a mixture of shock and awe, something that actually manages to make you smile, “You finally called back, we tried so many times–“

“I know.” You whisper, voice beginning to break, “I-I just didn’t know how to tell you….”

“How dare you not call us back Y/N?! So much has happened to your brother and we wanted to at least give you the chance to hear about his good news!” You deeply sigh at the implications, continuing to listen to the ongoing rambles, “First place Y/N! He won first place! They were literally singing praises about him and we felt so prou–“

“I changed schools,” You quietly mutter, letting out a shaky exhale and squeezing your eyes shut, “and started playing competitive basketball.”

Silence greets you once again.

“You WHAT?!”

“I won my first game today.” Your grip on the phone tightens, “I’ll be moving into the second round of nationals.”

“Y/N….” The layer of disappointment that causes a wave of tears to well up in your eyes, “Why did you change schools for basketball? And you have to stop lying to yourself already, there’s no way you could have made it to nationals. You need to come back right this instant an–“

“I won.” You repeat, but the words no longer seem to hold weight anymore, “I-I wanted you to be happy for me.”

Before you can hear any other blunder of why basketball is a horrible choice and that it’s something you won’t make it in, the phone call is cut off. Water streams down your cheeks and you lightly laugh, wondering to yourself why you let the rush of euphoria from the game convince you that things would have at least changed by now.

Letting out a sniffle, you discard the device back into your pocket and pivot around, only to be frozen in your tracks when your eyes come into contact with Yoongi’s.

His arms are crossed as he leans against the wall, but the dejected look in his eyes is decipherable enough. He pushes himself off from it, striding over you as you hurriedly attempt to wipe away the excess from your eyes, but then he embraces you and everything else is forgotten.

You’re not sure why hugging him almost elicits a whirlwind of tears to unleash from your eyes, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind when your sobs are being muffled by his jersey. He leans down to your ear and he whispers the string of words you’ve been so desperate to hear, being all too aware that you wouldn’t be receiving them from those that mattered the most to you.

“I’m proud of you.”

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purplehairedwonder · 4 years ago

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Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 6

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 4125 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Vergo, Donquixote Doflamingo, Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, Monet, Caesar Clown, Sanji, Nami, Chopper, Franky, Smoker, Tashigi, Monkey D. Luffy Note: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he’s 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law can’t help but resent Monkey D. Luffy for offering a glimpse of something he’s repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

“And where am I going?”

“Punk Hazard. We’ve had reports of some unwanted pests on the island. I need you to take care of them.”

Law frowned. Punk Hazard was meant to be off-limits to pirates and Marines alike since Caesar Clown’s poison gas bomb had turned the island into a wasteland. The fight between Aokiji and Akainu had only further cemented Punk Hazard as a place to avoid, as their abilities had completely altered the landscape. It shouldn’t even be accessible by log pose. Which, of course, made it the perfect location for Doflamingo’s purposes. Who would be there now?

“What kind of pests?” he asked.

Doflamingo waved a hand. “Vice Admiral Smoker is sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong again.”

Law’s lips curled upward once more, and he inclined his head as he looked at Vergo. “Shouldn’t you be keeping your men under better control, Vergo?” He tsked. “No wonder you can’t handle this yourself.”

Vergo’s expression tightened. “You insolent—” He cut himself off as Doflamingo cleared his throat. “Smoker has been a concern since he transferred to G-5,” Vergo admitted as he turned back to Doffy. “I’ve been waiting for the best time for him to have an accident.” He glanced at Law. “And that’s Vergo-san, to you, boy.”

“It’s Corazon to you, Vice Admiral,” Law retorted, still smirking, “not ‘boy.’”

“As I am unfortunately reminded,” Vergo sneered. “Truly, my successors have left much to be desired.”

Law’s grip around Kikoku tightened at the reference to Cora-san. He knew Vergo was trying to get a rise out of him and that Doflamingo was watching his reaction, so he forced his fingers to relax and left the smirk playing at his lips.

“And yet,” he drawled, “only one of us can go on this mission.”

Vergo opened his mouth to retort, but Doffy interrupted. “Enough bickering.” He turned to Law. “Smoker and his men aren’t the only pests Monet has reported.” He gave Law a long, searching look, which set Law’s teeth on edge, before elaborating. “The Straw Hat Pirates are also on the island.”

Law’s breath left him in a rush, the name so unexpected on Doffy’s lips that it struck him like a blow. There had been no news of the Straw Hats in two years; what were the odds they would reappear in Doflamingo’s territory?

He thought again of the pull in his chest he’d done his best to bury over the last two years and the urgings of the Sisters back in Flevance to always look and listen for signs of something bigger than ourselves in the world. Even Bepo, when they were younger, had talked about Minks’ connection to the Earth and how they looked to her for signs.

Law swallowed.

“That won’t be a problem, will it, Corazon?”

Law, with no little effort, schooled his features into something he hoped was apathetic. “No problem. I will take care of it.”

Doffy nodded. “I know you will.” Though Law couldn’t see his eyes behind those glasses, he could still feel the intensity in the Warlord’s gaze. “You know how important it is that the SAD production not be interrupted.”

“Of course,” he said, bowing slightly. “I’ll make arrangements to leave immediately.”

“There’s an SAD tanker heading for Punk Hazard in an hour. You can take that.”

Law nodded his understanding and turned to exit the office.

“Corazon.”

Law paused and looked back at Doflamingo, wary.

“I’m counting on you.”

Law stiffened at the implication in the tone, and memories of Doflamingo’s fingers around his throat sprang unbidden to mind. Over the last two years, Doffy had taken an… interest in Law’s neck, as though seeing the marks he’d left behind that day in the Suit Room had awoken some primal urge. Sometimes he touched gently, almost reverently, while others he squeezed hard enough to leave bruises blooming across the abused skin. Once, Law had been forced to sign to communicate for several days as his throat had healed from Doffy’s attentions.

And sometimes it wasn’t bruises left behind but bites. Law regularly sported some type of mark from Doffy’s affections, but the neck markings in particular were nearly impossible to hide the next day, making them Doffy’s favorite way of reminding Law who he belonged to.

As though Law needed any further reminder.

He nodded at Doflamingo. “Young Master,” he said in acknowledgment then left the room.

-----

“You allow him too much,” Vergo said once the door had closed behind Law.

Doflamingo raised an eyebrow at Vergo. “Oh?”

Vergo’s lips curled in disdain. Those two just could not play nicely. “He’s insolent.”

Doflamingo snorted. “That he is. He has been since he was a child.” Once a boy with bombs strapped to his chest looking to destroy the world, Law had risen to second in command of a Warlord and king. Doffy had to admit that he was rather fond of Law’s insolence.

In moderation.

It had taken time and numerous lessons since his return to the Family to break down the boy’s more rebellious instincts, but the Corazon he had become was exactly the second he’d always thought Law could become.

It was too bad that one day his reign as second would have to end in sacrifice to Doflamingo’s immortality, but Law wasn’t ready yet. Doflamingo was patient and more than happy to make use of his Corazon until Law learned it was his fate to die for Doflamingo.

Vergo eyed him for a moment, clearly weighing what he wanted to say to his liege.

“Speak freely, Vergo,” Doflamingo said, leaning back in his chair. Vergo was one of the few people he truly allowed such liberties, as he had been with him since they were children.

“He will betray you. Just like my successor did.”

Doflamingo scowled at the mention of his brother, but Vergo had earned that familiarity. It was an old argument they’d had since Law had returned to the Family nearly a decade earlier. Vergo remembered the boy in the snow helping Rosinante in trying to bring down the Family. And Vergo’s loyalty lay entirely with Doflamingo, so he did not forgive treason.

“I’m well aware of the influence Rosinante had on him,” Doflamingo replied, thinking back to a teenage Law’s snarled defense of Rosinante the day they’d reunited in the North Blue: Cora-san saved me. I am alive today because of him. Little did he know, his precious Cora-san had condemned him by feeding him that Fruit; Doflamingo had never intended for Law to eat the Ope Ope no Mi because Law was more valuable to him as his future second than as a sacrificial pawn. But now there was no choice.

“That’s why I’ve taken precautions to ensure his continued loyalty.”

“He betrayed you at Marineford,” Vergo pointed out, “even with those precautions.” They had argued for days after Law had saved Straw Hat and Jimbei. Despite Vergo’s protestations, Doflamingo hadn’t been willing to rid himself of the potential he saw in Law.

And he’d been right, of course.

“I made sure he learned his lesson,” Doflamingo replied. “His loyalty has been impeccable since.”

Doflamingo could not have planned a better lesson in loyalty than one of Law’s closest friends losing an arm in the Colosseum. Something, it seemed, had broken in Law then, all ideas of rebellion washed away in his friend’s blood on the Colosseum’s stone ring. He’d been the ideal subordinate since. He’d withdrawn from his crew, devoting himself entirely to the Family—to Doflamingo—and Doflamingo took every opportunity to assert his complete ownership of his Corazon, his Heart.

Perhaps Doflamingo liked Law’s insolence because it was a reminder that, even as Law submitted to Doflamingo, he was still in there, the boy who wanted to destroy the world after it had destroyed his.

Still, Doflamingo saw the presence of the Straw Hats on Punk Hazard as the perfect test to make sure the loyalty he now displayed was real.

Vergo was clearly not persuaded by Doflamingo’s assertions, so the Warlord shrugged.

“You know I’d like you to stay,” he said. They never had enough time together with Vergo’s duties to the Marines keeping him away. “But if you’re so concerned about Corazon’s loyalty, go to Punk Hazard to keep an eye on him.” Vergo straightened, surprised but pleased. He’d wanted to be the one to take care of the mess in the first place. “But don’t blow your cover. You are too valuable to me.”

Vergo nodded and rose to his feet. “By your leave, Young Master.”

-----

When Law returned to his room, he found a folder on his desk with a copy of Monet’s reports about Smoker, G-5, and the Straw Hats. He flipped through the pages then closed the folder; he’d look at them more thoroughly during the ship ride. Caesar’s lab was on the snowy side of the island, so he changed into warmer clothing and grabbed his heavy coat from his wardrobe.

Punk Hazard was only a few hours from Dressrosa by ship, and Law did not expect this errand to take long so he didn’t pack anything else. After putting his Den Den Mushi in his pocket, he hefted Kikoku to his shoulder and took the folder and his coat. He thought about stopping by his crew’s wing to tell them where he was going but decided against it. He didn’t have much time before the tanker left.

As he approached the front gate of the palace, he slowed at the sight of three figures. He grimaced as Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin came into focus. They looked up when they heard him approach.

“Captain,” Bepo greeted hesitantly.

“What are you three doing here?” Law asked, looking between them. He had his suspicions about who might have ratted him out.

“Going somewhere?” Penguin asked, nodding at the folder and coat in Law’s arms.

“Mission.”

“By yourself?” Shachi asked, frowning.

“This shouldn’t take long. Just a quick clean up,” Law evaded.

“We could help make it go even faster,” Penguin said.

Bepo nodded. “We want to help.”

Law frowned. “It’s not necessary. I should be back by tomorrow.”

“But—” Bepo started.

“Captain’s orders,” Law interrupted, voice harsher than he intended.

Bepo shrank in on himself and murmured an apology. Law knew Bepo didn’t deserve that—none of them did—but it was the only way he could keep them safe.

“You want to pull that,” Penguin said, crossing his arms defiantly, “maybe you should start acting like a captain again.”

Law recoiled as if Penguin had struck him.

“We haven’t seen you in weeks. And when you do stop by, you barely speak. You don’t take us on missions, even though we’re way more useful than that idiot Buffalo,” Penguin went on.

“I know you spooked when I lost my arm,” Shachi added, voice more neutral than Penguin’s. “But it’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is,” Law snapped, feeling suddenly fragile as his best friends confronted him. Two years’ worth of guilt and frustration had left his emotions jagged and broken, and it was inevitable those sharp edges would hurt them—and here they were. “I made the choice to go to Marineford and save Straw Hat-ya. I made the choice to stay on Amazon Lily for weeks, knowing you all would pay the price. I was selfish and look what happened.”

“No, Law,” Bepo said quietly. Law startled. “That wasn’t being selfish. You saved Straw Hat Luffy and Jimbei when no one else could have.” Bepo swallowed. “And I’m sorry, but you’re being selfish now.”

Law sucked in a breath.

“Locking yourself up in your guilt and pain—”

“And not letting us help!” Penguin interjected.

“—that’s self-centered,” Bepo finished. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not this person you’ve let yourself become,” Shachi added fiercely. “They might think of you as Corazon,” he said, nodding toward the palace, “but to us, you’re Captain.”

Law’s chest tightened as his friends spoke, his face heating. “I…” He swallowed, unsure of what to do with the twisting in his chest. “I have to go.”

And like the coward that he was, Law fled.

-----

It was mid-afternoon when the SAD tanker anchored at Punk Hazard. Law eyed the island curiously. While he knew about the production going on in the lab, he’d never been to the island. He didn’t bother waiting for the gangplank, switching places with a pile of rope on the dock. According to the map of the lab in his folder, there should be a back entrance Law could use to gain entry. From there, he would need to find Monet and Caesar Clown for any updates before completing his task.

There was gas on the air, so Law opened a small Room around himself to keep the poison out as he walked toward the back door. He Shambled himself inside and made his way down the hallway. The sound of approaching footsteps alerted him to Monet’s presence before he saw her.

“Corazon, you’re here,” she greeted.

Law nodded and she turned to lead him back to the lab. Law fell in step with her.

“Well?” he asked. “What’s happening?”

She gave him a level look, one that belied the apparent chaos happening elsewhere on the island. “Half the Straw Hats are inside the building, trying to remove the children. We have soldiers confronting them, but G-5 is also in the building.”

Law didn’t think she sounded particularly bothered by this, but that could also just be Monet’s overall flat affect. He’d always had a hard time getting a good read on her.

“And the others?” he prompted.

“They’re somewhere on the island. Caesar sent the Yeti Cool Brothers after them.”

Law didn’t know much about them, other than that Caesar employed them as assassins. He rarely needed their services, considering the isolated nature of the island.

“But you don’t think they’ll be successful.” Otherwise, why was Law here?

Monet shrugged. “Hard to know, considering the Straw Hats have been inactive for two years. We have no way of knowing how strong they might have become.”

And as far as Law knew, Straw Hat had been training with Silvers Rayleigh—though he’d done his best not to think about that—for the last two years. There was no telling what he might have learned from the Dark King in that time.

They stopped in front of a large door, which slid open to admit them into the control room. Inside, Caesar stood watching monitors. The clown turned as Monet and Law entered. He brightened when he saw Law.

“Corazon!” he greeted. “You’re here! Finally.”

“Joker sent me to clean up your mess, Caesar-ya,” Law replied, disinterested.

Caesar prickled at that but knew better than to argue with an executive. He nodded at the monitors. “Half the Straw Hats and G-5 have overwhelmed my men in the Biscuit Room.” On the screen, numerous figures in gas suits were scattered across the floor. “They just went running toward the front entrance.”

“Together?” Law asked, raising an eyebrow as he studied the monitors, getting a sense of the scene.

“It seems they both want to retrieve the children,” Monet said, also looking at the monitors. “They must be working together temporarily.”

Caesar waved a dismissive hand. “No matter. The children will be begging to return in no time. But the pirates and Marines are a problem.”

“And the others?” Law asked. He didn’t see Straw Hat on any of the monitors. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

“In the mountains somewhere, probably dead,” Caesar said. “We don’t have a feed out there.” He shrugged and chuckled. “Shurororo. The Yeti Cool Brothers have never been defeated.”

“Don’t underestimate them,” Law murmured as he studied the monitors. Caesar made an irritated noise, but Law ignored him, having made his decision. “I’ll cut the Straw Hats and Marines off at the front gate and take care of them there. I’ll find the rest after.”

If Caesar or Monet had any objections, Law didn’t stick around to hear them; he opened a Room all the way out of the building and switched places with a snowflake. Without dropping his Room, he stood outside then, waiting for his targets to come through the open front gate.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“There’s the door!” a female voice echoed through the hall.

“Hurry!” another yelled. “We’ll get on the ship and take you home!”

Law shoved any concern for the children’s wellbeing down with all his other inconvenient emotions, locking it down in the box he’d created after Marineford. He had a job to do. And it wasn’t like his childhood had been spared either. His had ended the moment Lami had collapsed at the festival. The world was a cold, unforgiving place.

The mixed group of pirates, Marines, and children poured out of the gate moments later but slowed to a halt on the steps when they saw Law blocking their path. At the front of the group, Smoker and several Straw Hats were eyeing him. He briefly noted the presence of the samurai, Kin’emon, who had been mentioned in Monet’s reports as well; unlike the others, he was meant to be kept alive, though Law didn’t know why.

“What the—” Black Leg growled.

“I recognize him from Sabaody!” the cat burglar said, eyes wide.

“Corazon,” Smoker said. “That explains a lot.”

“What does it explain?” the tanuki asked.

“Corazon is the second in command of the Donquixote Pirates,” the swordswoman said. “If he’s here, that means this place must be one of Donquixote Doflamingo’s operations.”

“So, you’re behind this?” the cat burglar sneered. “You can’t have the children back, you monster!”

“When did you get here?” Smoker demanded.

“Just now,” Law replied. “Word was there were some pests on the island that needed exterminating.” He unsheathed Kikoku, the blade humming in anticipation. “And I’m afraid you know too much, White Chase-ya, so I can’t let you leave.”

Smoker drew his jitte, and the swordswoman unsheathed her blade. The soldiers of G-5 drew their rifles. Black Leg and the cyborg stepped forward. Law might have laughed at the futility of their actions; they were in his Room and at his mercy. Despite the reputation he’d earned for himself, though, he wasn’t interested in pointless violence. He’d take care of this quickly.

The soldiers fired a hail of bullets first, but with a twitch of his fingers, he switched the bullets with snowflakes; they fell harmlessly to the ground.

“What the hell happened?” the soldiers yelped.

“How about some bigger ammo?” the cyborg declared, firing a large blast.

Law Shambled out of the way, allowing the blast to destroy a boulder in the distance.

The swordswoman jumped into action, charging at him. “Corazon!”

Smoker yelled a warning at his second, but she ignored him.

Law let her get close before swinging Kikoku. She gasped as her upper and lower halves split in two, falling to the snowy ground. The top of her sliced sword clattered away, useless.

“Captain-chan!”

“Tashigi-chan! Are you alive?”

Black Leg growled and jumped into action. “How dare you do that to a beautiful lady?!”

Law rolled his eyes and threw up Kikoku to block Black Leg’s kick. Black Leg jumped back, and Law sliced his blade. Black Leg and Smoker jumped out of the path of the cut, but the remaining G-5 soldiers suddenly found themselves in pieces. They yelled in surprise at still being alive. Law ignored them, turning back to his remaining opponents.

“What kind of power is that?” the cat burglar asked from where she and the tanuki stood protectively in front of the children.

“The Ope Ope no Mi,” Smoker said. “It gives the user the ability to create an operating room and operate on the world around them. As long as we’re in his circle, we’re at his mercy.”

“Where’s the edge of the circle?” the cyborg asked, looking around for the edge of the blue dome.

Law’s lips twitched. He’d pushed himself over the last two years to drastically increase the size of the Room he could create and the length of time he could hold it. His Room now extended into the water.

“If we take him out, it won’t matter!” Black Leg declared, racing at Law once more.

Law dodged his kicks, deflecting them with Kikoku. He realized too late that he was being driven, though; his haki flared, and he barely dodged Smoker’s strike, the jitte grazing his cheek.

“That nasty energy,” Law hissed. “There’s Seastone on the end of your jitte.” Dangerous. Law had gotten cocky, and it had almost cost him. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Smoker swung his jitte again, and Law deflected it. His haki flared again, and he jumped to avoid another blast from the cyborg then Shambled away to put some distance between himself and his opponents.

“Corazon,” a growl came from his side.

Law looked down, surprised to see he’d Shambled himself near the halved swordswoman. There was fire in her eyes, despite her defeat.

“At least kill me if you’re going to cut me down,” she snapped. “You’ve shamed me.”

Law gave her an unimpressed look. He couldn’t look at a Marine without seeing the carnage of Flevance in his mind’s eye. “Your shame isn’t my problem,” he retorted coldly. “Remember this well: the weak don’t get to choose how they die.”

Doflamingo had beaten that lesson into him more times than Law could count; Law himself wasn’t given that choice. He knew Doflamingo had plans for his death, though the Warlord didn’t know Law had overheard his words on Minion Island.

She snarled her rage and tried to jump at him with just her upper body and her broken sword. Law raised Kikoku, ready to cut her down further, but his blade was kicked aside by Black Leg. Kikoku flew from his grip, and Law cursed under his breath.

“Don’t you know how to treat a lady?” Black Leg barked.

Law threw up his hands, feeling the charge grow in his hands. As Black Leg’s momentum brought him close to Law, Law pushed his thumbs into Black Leg’s chest and let the burst go. Counter shock.

“She’s no lady,” Law hissed as Black Leg flew backward and hit the ground, rolling. “She’s a Marine.”

“Sanji!” the Straw Hats yelled in alarm.

Black Leg tried to push himself up but dropped back down to the ground. Law turned away and walked over to his sword. He picked up Kikoku and surveyed the scene. The swordswoman, Black Leg, and the G-5 soldiers were out of commission for the time being. That left Smoker, the cyborg, Kin’emon, the cat burglar, the tanuki, and the children. The children simply needed to be returned to the lab. Smoker, the cyborg, and the samurai were the most dangerous men left standing.

“Corazon!” Smoker roared and charged Law once more.

Law braced himself for Smoker’s frontal attack then started when Smoker turned partially to smoke. The jitte came at him from behind; Law dodged but the end of the jitte still slammed into his shoulder. Law immediately felt his strength disappear and his Room drop from the effects of the Seastone tip.

Law hit the ground and rolled away, his strength returning. He pushed back to his feet and immediately threw a Room back up. He cursed himself; he’d shown a weakness his enemies could exploit.

Smoker followed Law, stabbing his jitte again and again. Law dodged as Smoker chased him. Law Shambled a bit farther ahead then whirled around, throwing up a hand. He lifted a finger and a rock pillar erupted from the ground. Smoker’s eyes widened but he dodged. Law lifted one pillar after another until Smoker was right in front of him. Smoker raised his jitte to strike, but Law lifted one more pillar, pulling Smoker up short. With Smoker off-balance, Law used Mes to cut straight through the rock and into Smoker’s chest.

Smoker wheezed as his heart was ejected from his body and collapsed against the pillar.

“Smoker-san!” the swordswoman cried.

Law straightened and Shambled the heart into his hand. The heart of a vice admiral could be a good bargaining chip. He pocketed it.

“Is that…” the cat burglar gasped.

“His heart!” the tanuki confirmed, eyes wide.

Law turned back toward the steps, where the remaining figures stood. The samurai put a hand to his sword while the cyborg stepped in front of the group. Law hefted Kikoku but froze at the sound of a familiar voice, that pull in his chest jerking hard enough to steal his breath.

“Oi!” Straw Hat called. “What’s going on?”

Next chapter

#Caitlin's fic #Longest chapter yet!#It just kept flowing haha #Trafalgar Law #One Piece fanfiction #One Piece fanfic #One Piece

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subaruthegamer · 4 years ago

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About my OCs (Randy and Deacon)

Again, bear with me here.

Randal (Randy) David

“What’s rule #2?” - me

“Never *bleep* with anyone who’s bigger than you.” - half-drunk Randy - regarding why Jack effortlessly... 18+ed him.

Randal (as I occasionally call him) is from a slightly better off family from Hidden Springs, and he was born to parents who while idealistic on the outside, were actually a little bit difficult to live with on the inside. Even though is family life left a lot to be desired, in terms of education, he was attending some of the best schools that Hidden Springs had to offer. With that, his education did leave a rather bitter taste in his mouth since he had almost quite literally, burned his mind through everything that was asked of him. As a result, he now suffers from a mild case of depression which he hides even better than myself.

After turning 17, Randy had a tutor as a result of his rather intense struggle to keep up with everyone else. But he also started to notice an attraction to him (he was pretty much devastatingly handsome) and it started to get personal in a way. That was when Randy started to suffer a headache about his situation. Because his parents were quite uptight about him staying straight as an arrow, this was probably going to be the end (to him). So on the day he turned 18 after his high school graduation, he decided to enlist in the military. But he had to tell his parents about that and his sexuality. Rather than wait until everyone was at dinner, he waited until the night he was about to be shipped out to tell him.

You can guess how it ended for his parents - the bickering was endless.

I honestly don’t know how Randy pulled through with dealing with his training, but one thing I can say for certain is that while Randy was starting to get his body toned, but the one thing that I can say for sure is that he was definitely the smart one. This got him transfered once, and then again. Until he landed into Colby’s team.

It was a crush at first sight after all - Colby was big, bulky - but obviously, he couldn’t just say he’s in love with him. Until one night, at a barracks somewhere we will probably never know, Randy managed to sneak out of his cabin, and for some rather insane reason, decided to peep on Colby. Colby had just came in from some weight-lifting, so he was going to take a shower. So when Randy peeped, he was getting turned on by Colby’s big size and when he turned around, how large his... uh... right, keeping this safe for work...

Anyway, Randy snuck back to his cabin and needed a moment alone to himself because his heart was pounding so fast. The next morning, he was summoned to Colby’s cabin and sure enough, Colby knew he had been spied on. So inevitably, rather than give him a lesson, Colby would go with his “lesson” by clearing up his schedule come liberty day, and giving him something that was sorely needed.

When the day was free, Randy went over nervous... he had never had somebody this close to him... and when the door closed in Colby’s cabin... it didn’t take long for Colby to slowly strip him down and start his “lesson.” Sure enough, they were sweaty and layered.

This kept up for weeks on end. Working together and creating a formidable team of tactics and actual fighting with (potential enemies) they were literally climbing the ranks during the day, and being given lessons during the night. In fact it got to a point where they had been turned into the stories of legend because of Randy’s moaning.

Sadly (for Randy) it didn’t last, because Colby rather strangely quit his position after he himself spent 6 years in the military. With an address if Randy ever got himself loose, he stayed on - but while he was good over the next year with other people, they got transferred out because Randy wasn’t quite as compatible with others simply due to the dynamic that he and Colby had. So, he quit.

After that, he sort of bounced all over the country, seeing if Colby was there, hoping to hopefully continue with what he and Colby had - enter me.

Yeah, it’s a pretty good guess as to what happened when he finally found Colby. This was an awkward reunion for sure, since Colby was in love with me, and Randy was now... the ex.

Obviously with him sharing a room at his Riverview house (which I was still studying in college) this did have a few awkward moments - then it started going into a slightly strange stalker-ish vibe that was coming off. I was probably overreacting, since Randy’s questions were really sort of borderline creep~ish to the point where I had to have a conversation with Colby with regards to it.

“I mean, in hindsight, it’s not so bad - I have a feeling we’re getting somewhere.” - me

“It’s more of... will he do everything to replace you?” - Colby

And it didn’t happen. Strange as it may seem, it just didn’t happen. Despite all of it, he was still trying (a bit too hard) to try and remain upbeat about the whole ordeal, but it left me with the impression that he was a little cold with it.

After I graduated and got a job starting my way up with being an intern, Randy got a job as a filing clerk in the office. We started hitting it off as friends, and he was starting to have this sense that he wanted Colby, but he didn’t want to fight over what Colby’s mind up was which depressed him. As I was a former sober companion then, I always notice the signs that one may possibly start to need vices. The job he got was something to live for, but it just felt like he wanted more at the end of the day.

We had our fun, of course, as friends. Walks, drinks, the occasional shameless flirt. I worked my way up but then sort of stalled, which got Randy to catch up to being an intern. By the time I was given the opportunity to be a full-blown journalist, Randy was on the heels of being one. His comparison tests were unique in a way nobody has ever seen before (why, I will never tell you!) but we both got into our moment in the spotlight - I was working on reviewing cars, he was reviewing consumer products.

Furthermore, we also both got job opportunities in Lucky Palms - hence the move.

Which did leave one question - was Randy really going to try and shoot himself past me and into Colby’s arms? The three of us decided that Randy can be friends-with-benefits with Colby. Which meant that there was no relationship with Colby - it being over as Randy came to the reality that Colby was in love with me. But the occasional hookup would be okay.

Did it mean he can also sink his claws into me as well? (hehe...)

Deacon Peaks

“Lemme get this right - you got that tattoo to hide several of scars on your arm?” - me

“It’s not something I’m proud of.” - Deacon

Deacon has been through a lot. Actually, more than even I could describe. Coming from the slightly rough side of Twinbrook, his story wasn’t as fairytale as his blond hair and tattoos suggest. Deacon and his sister (who we’ve never seen but is mentioned on occasions) were born to a rather alcoholic father, who beat everyone on several occasions. Deacon sustained a lot of the injuries through school, and until his mother finally went to his grandfather, he was still suffering a lot which the school staff at the time turned a blind eye to.

When his mother finally had enough, his grandfather (who he called Pops) had the whole family (minus his father) move into his place and chased his father away with a shotgun. After that, at 14, he was starting to put the pieces of himself back together, but it started to take a domino effect on his education, since he was also bullied through school. Until a new principal came into effect 2 years later, the pieces he had allowed him to get by, but not get better. In fact, from what I remember about the conversations Deacon and I had when we were alone was that he also started an attraction to boys - who then also got kicked around for liking them as well. So, clearly, high school wasn’t exactly something he’s enjoyed.

That gradually changed slightly as he entered college - although it was still a painful time for him - even as he turned 21. Because Deacon was at a small college party, the temptation to drink too much was just there. I mean, everyone was simply getting too drunk to get comfortable. Even in this setting, the pressure was still on. But he walked away. And good thing he did, because hazing was a thing that occurred then.

Now, Deacon entered college with loans, so unsurprisingly, he did have to work quite hard through college. It wasn’t the most enlightening difference, but it was enough to live by modestly. He still had to bike to school, but it was enough to work and live by in a way. Although with Deacon’s athletic career - he graduated alright, but there is a problem: the amount of debt wasn’t exactly something that enlightens a prospective team. So after graduating, he held a few dead-end jobs before moving to Lucky Palms.

While looking through the ads list at the supermarket in Lucky Palms, I had advertised a room for sale (this was post-Adam, pre-Jack - draw your own conclusions) and, Deacon, ever the blondie, came in and was about to text the number on the ad. Sure enough, it was me. Randy had been living in a room on his own, and with Lucky Palms property values, renting a spare room that could be used could supplement what we paid.

Sure enough, Deacon was sort of back where we started until a team mascot position at the stadium opened. So he took it - but he was facing a little bit of ridicule from not being “from the bag - and probably rusty.” Obviously, he hid this from us until I checked in on him... and where I may have introduced him to Randy.

The two went on a night on the town at a bar, and Deacon (according to Randy) did have some degree of fun, but there was something missing. Now, when they got home with Randy (on the gray line of tipsy and drunk), Deacon decided that rather than carry Randy to his room (which factually was closer to the stairs than Deacon’s was) he would take him to his.

What happened during the night would be anyone’s guess (relax, nothing of a rather criminal nature happened), but when Randy woke up (unsurprisingly slightly hungover) Randy had been giving Deacon a cute smile while waiting for him to wake up. When Deacon turned around, his heart was beating quickly. Randy was still staring into his eyes with this cooling effect that apparently gradually got them to cuddle even closer in bed.

They spent the whole day cuddling until... Deacon made the first move with a kiss in bed. With Randy slightly shocked (and hungry) that Deacon wasn’t sure if he blew it. But Randy responded by kissing him back :)

This was a gradual secret until I accidentally got him and Deacon making out because Randy accidentally took my phone and I was going to give it back.

What was interesting about this was that they moment they started dating was also the same moment Colby proposed to me.

Randy was the catalyst in Deacon’s life, and soon enough, Deacon started flying up the ladder from being a mascot, to being one of the most sought after players. And before you ask - they’ve decided to be boyfriend and boyfriend.

#randy #deacon #character origins

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joaquinwhorres · 5 years ago

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The Fool (Ch. 3) {Fred Weasley x F!OC}

SUMMARY ››››› After getting tangled up with the Weasley Twins during the events of the Quidditch World Cup, Wren Collings’ life takes a turn for the chaotic. It threatens everything she has going for her, but she’s not convinced that’s entirely a bad thing.

PAIRING ››››› Fred Weasley x Female OC

WORD COUNT ››››› 5,500-ish

WARNINGS ››››› There is no depression or mental health issues in this story, but there are mentions of death, violence, abuse, some PTSD, etc. As most of the specific warnings revolve around major plot points or are found throughout most chapters, I’m just going to rate certain chapters on the movie scale. This is chapter PG-13.

A/N ››››› This chapter This chapter kicked my butt. But the fact that it's written and posted and I did not disappear for a year (which has been known to happen when I can't seem to get a chapter right) is a victory.

Series Masterlist | Read on ff.net

Word of the Thom Spiro Incident--what Wren had finally agreed to call the small display of justice at lunch--spread quickly throughout the castle. While this was somewhat worrisome, it was not an entirely unexpected consequence. Besides, for the most part, the student body seemed focused on the fact that Thom had rather abruptly turned completely violet and not so much on the hows, whos, and whys of the situation.

Although Wren was fairly certain that it was only a matter of time before those questions would ripple through the castle, she was proved wrong on her way to Divination. As she was passing by a gaggle of third year girls, she overheard their whispers: apparently, during the fourth to fifth block class change, Professor Snape had been seen arguing with Professor Sprout about her standards for admission to her NEWT level class. This news quickly passed from student to student, bringing new life to the buzz surrounding the Incident and easing Wren's anxiety a bit.

While a purple student and quarreling professors would be enough to keep the student body talking for at least a week, right before dinner the drama came to a head when loud shouts were heard coming from the Hospital Wing. According to Lee, three girls had been dragged out by Hagrid and Madam Hooch, kicking and screaming at each other. From what he could gather, each of them had been to visit Thom only to discover he was dating all three of them.

This of course had inspired Fred Weasley to give a small toast in Wren's honor, despite her protests that he "Sit down!" and "Shh!". Afterwards, the Twilight Protectorate--the name Alicia saw fit to bestow upon them--spent the rest of dinner sharing the various speculations they'd heard throughout the day about "the purple Ravenclaw."

But much in the same way the purple slowly faded from Thom's skin, so did the excitement surrounding the incident. Life moved on. Thom's Herbology station was moved closer to Professor Sprout, the Weasley twins stopped making a show of watching Wren's every move, and normal life at Hogwarts resumed.

For the most part.

There seemed to be a lingering closeness between Wren and her dorm mates. Alicia had taken to insisting that Wren come to the library with her and Angelina and Katie or join their game of Exploding Snap or come and lay out on the lawn with them.

This was exactly where the girls found themselves stretched out now, Angelina halfheartedly working on her muggle studies homework, the rest having long given up on their own parchments and books scattered between them.

“Reckon we don’t have too many days left like this,” Katie mused, tucking her arms under her head as she lifted her face to the sun.

“I’m surprised we even got this one,” Angelina remarked, scratching out an answer and rewriting a new one.

It was unusually pleasant even for early October. The girls' jumpers were plenty to keep them warm against the cool breeze that swept across the lawn every now and then, rustling their parchments and flipping pages in their books.

"It'd be nice if it stayed like this for your birthday," Katie said. "We could do something on the lawn then."

Angelina shook her head as she continued to scan through the book in front of her for a bit of information. "We don't need to do anything for my birthday."

"You're turning 17," Alicia pushed, as if the fact that Angelina would finally be of age was lost on her. "You'll officially be able to do magic whenever you want."

"And drink whatever you want," Wren put in, lifting her head up from her folded arms and propping her chin up in her hand.

"I want to see Angelina do shots of Firewhiskey," Katie smiled, turning onto her stomach to stare at Angelina. Angelina, for her part, simply rolled her eyes.

"Not going to happen," she said, with a firm shake of her head, quill scratching lightly against the parchment. "The only thing that's really going to be any different over the next eight months is that I can enter the Tournament."

Alicia gasped excitedly, jerking up into a seated position. "You're going to do it?"

"Do what?"

Wren jumped as there was a flurry of robes next to her and Lee Jordan settled himself next to her, stretching out his feet and leaning back on his arms.

"Angelina's going to enter the Tournament!" Alicia responded as Fred and George dropped themselves into the spaces between Katie and Alicia, and Wren and Angelina.

"Excellent," Fred said, nudging books out of the way with his foot. "We'll be putting our names in as well."

"But your birthdays aren't until April," Katie's brow furrowed as she stacked the book Fred moved on top of another one.

"That's right," George nodded.

"You have to be 17 to enter," Katie pressed.

A smile quirked at the corner of Fred's lips. "And when has something as trivial as a rule ever stopped us?"

Alicia snorted, and Angelina heaved a sigh, closing her book and rolling up her parchment.

"The way we see it, all we have to do is fool the judge. And if he--"

"It," Wren corrected, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers. The eyes of the group fell on her as Fred's sentence was abandoned.

"It?" George repeated.

Wren looked up, glancing around the circle. "Well, the judge can't be a person."

"Do go on," Fred extended a hand as if to prompt her. Angelina smacked at his shoulder and he withdrew his hand, scowling at her.

Wren flushed, and shook her head, but George nudged her with his shoulder. "C'mon, all theories are worth hearing."

"Well, it can't possibly be a professor from any of the three schools; they're not impartial. And it's unlikely it'll be a Ministry person either since a victory for Hogwarts is a victory for Britain. And I doubt they'd get some international ministry member to come in and decide. For one, they're much too busy, and for two, they'd be easily swayed by international politics. Which means that it's probably some sort of object like the sorting hat, or maybe a creature."

There was a brief silence after her observation followed by a small "Huh." out of Fred.

"That does make what Dumbledore said about personally ensuring no underage student hoodwinks the judge," Alicia nodded. "It's unlikely a judge able to determine the best the school has to offer would be easily tricked."

Fred looked thoughtfully over Wren's shoulder, his eyes distant and brow furrowed slightly. Beside her George was also stiller than normal, only drumming his thumb lightly against his leg.

"Reckon you'll put your name in, if we figure out a way around the judge?" Lee asked Alicia who shook her head.

"I'm happy being a spectator for once," she said, pulling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "I just hope one of you gets it. It'll be nice to have a Gryffindor champion to cheer for."

"Trust me," Fred said, his eyes landing on Wren. "There'll be a Gryffindor champion."

Wren sank into a spot at the Gryffindor table with just twenty minutes to spare before she had to head off to Charms. It was not the first time she'd woken up with a start followed immediately by a sinking sensation at the sight of her empty dorm. It wasn't even the first time this year. She'd cut it even closer just two weeks back. Still, any morning that entailed sprinting down seven staircases all while praying that Peeves didn't notice her never instilled a feeling of victory or relief or even gratitude when she turned into the Great Hall and there was still food on the tables.

All that to say, she was not in the best of moods when the Weasley twins sat themselves across the breakfast table from her with identical mischievous smiles on their faces.

"How would you like to make magical history?" Fred asked.

Wren blinked twice, her heart still racing from her run, as she stared between the two of them. "Morning to you as well. I'm fine enough, thank you for asking. And no, I wasn't about to use that jam, please help yourself," she said bitterly, gesturing to where George was topping a bit of toast with raspberry jam that Wren had just been about to use before it slipped from under her fingers.

"Excellent, now that we've gotten the pleasantries out of the way, what do you say?" Fred gestured for her to answer. Wren continued to glare at George until he handed the jar back over to her so she could continue fixing her breakfast.

"What do you mean magical history?" she asked. Despite the fact that her attention was on her plate, she could practically feel the grins grow on the twins faces. It was rather annoying.

"Knew she'd be curious," Fred shot to George.

"Never doubted it," George shot back.

Wren placed the knife down, shaking her head. "I take it back. If I know you two, this isn't going to be anything good. I don't want any part of it."

"Look at this, Fred, she's got us all figured out."

"Well, George, we have had three conversations together. I'd say that's enough to infer motives."

Wren ignored the bickering and leveled them with a look. "I know you two well enough to know that you're Fred," she said pointing to the twin claiming to be George, "And you're George."

Their eyes brightened with delight. "Well spotted, Collings," Fred complimented. "What gave us away?'

Before Wren had a chance to make up some sort of answer--there was no way she was going to give away the tricks Angelina had taught her--George cut in. "You're forgetting, Fred, that Wren and I are close personal friends," he remarked with a significant look, punctuating the statement with a bite of his toast.

Wren's eyes widened and she felt the heat rush into her cheeks. "We don't need to speak about that. Ever."

Fred laughed. "That bad was it?"

"Hang on now, you hardly gave me any warning," George argued, defensively.

Wren glowered at them some more and resolved herself to never be late to breakfast ever again. "Get back to your original point or I'm leaving."

"Fine, fine," Fred agreed, squaring his shoulders to face her. "How would you like to be the first witch to brew a potion that stumps Albus Dumbledore?"

"Be serious then," Wren shook her head, expecting the twins to come clean about asking for help with a prank or some other sort of mischief. But instead, they simply peered intently at her with expectant looks on their faces. "You're joking. No. "

"You're in NEWT level potions," George said.

"As a Gryffindor no less," Fred added.

"Angelina says you have top marks too." George casually bit into his toast again.

Wren's stomach let out a grumble and she paused the conversation long enough to take a bite of her scone. She chewed it slowly, eyeing the twins as if expecting them to break and admit they were teasing her. Instead they looked at her with eyebrows raised and hands folded in front of them as if at a business meeting. She swallowed, shaking her head. "That just means I'm good at paying attention and following instructions."

George gave a meaningful look to Fred. "Modest, this one."

"Incredibly," Fred nodded back at his brother. Wren huffed and returned to her breakfast, multitasking by giving the two a rude hand gesture.

They didn't seem to get the point.

"It's admirable, really."

"A shining example to all of wizardkind."

"Stop it, you two," Wren snapped.

Fred shook his head, reaching over to Wren's plate and stealing a piece of bacon, despite the fact that there was a perfectly good platter of it sitting slightly to his right.

"You've got a gift Wren Collings," George appealed. "This could be your time to show it off."

"Not only that, but you're clever and more devious than you appear," Fred said, waving the bacon at her. "Far more devious than a prefect's girlfriend should be."

Wren shot him a dirty look, but before she could properly chew him out, George jumped in. "We need your help."

She looked down at her plate and picked up the remaining piece of bacon before either of the twins could reach for it. "What potion do you want me to brew?"

This mischievous grins were back on their faces, and this truly was a horrible idea.

"Just a simple ageing potion." Fred shrugged.

"Oh yes, very simple; all I have to do is brew a potion that instantaneously ages every cell in your body the exact same amount."

"That about explains it," George nodded, and Wren shook her head.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you need an ageing potion?"

"Thought it'd be obvious," Fred said, reaching over to her plate to grab a scone, and she slapped his hand away. "It's for the Tournament of course. Just in case there's some sort of measure to make sure we're 17."

Wren laughed again, this one slightly more disbelieving than full on incredulous. "There's no way I'll be able to make a potion good enough to get you into the Tournament--get your own bloody scone, Fred." Wren snapped, batting away his hand once more. He raised his eyebrows but finally started to pick at the surrounding serving plates rather than take from hers.

"Don't be so self-defeating Wren," George broke in. "You brewed one well enough on the NEWTs to get an O. Besides, we're not asking you to get us picked--just to help us submit our names."

Wren shook her head. "Do you have a plan for gathering the ingredients? Or figuring out how to haul a cauldron to some unseen location so I can brew a potion without anyone in Hogwarts noticing?"

Fred paused from preparing his own scone to look at Wren disbelievingly. "It's like you don't even know us at all."

"And here we were thinking that you got us."

Wren rolled her eyes, but she couldn't ignore that small question that had wriggled its way out of the back of her mind: could she create a potion that stumped Dumbledore's magic? No, the thought was absolutely ludicrous. He'd been practising magic for 100 years more than her. But could she create a potion that slid through a crack in Dumbledore's thinking? She didn't need to overcome his magic; she just needed to outwit it. And who was better at outwitting brilliant thinkers than the two boys sitting in front of her.

"I'll consider it," Wren said, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.

The energy buzzing around the two boys was almost electric. "They're going to read about you in History of Magic," George declared.

"Or at least fall asleep on your page."

Wren broke off a bit of her scone and tossed it at Fred who allowed it to bounce off of him before popping it into his mouth.

"Might want to pack up the rest," George said, gesturing at Wren's plate. "Breakfast is over in--" The serving dishes around them vanished, and Wren just managed to grab a half of her scone before her plate and its contents disappeared as well.

She really had to wake up earlier in the morning.

"Here," George said, offering a piece of toast he had snatched up. Wren didn't even bother to fake a protest at the kindness, and instead took it from him with a small thanks. After all, he was part of the reason she hadn't been able to eat her full breakfast. A small part, but a part.

Wren rose from the table, the twins getting up as well and moving to her side. "Shouldn't take much to get the ingredients. Quick OWL to the Apothecary should get us what we need." Fred thought aloud.

"Might have to go closer to home than that," George said with a meaningful look to Fred. Fred nodded, thinking about it before his eyes turned to Wren.

"I suppose we do know someone taking NEWT level potions who does have access to--"

"No," Wren said, clearly. "I'm not stealing from Snape."

"We wouldn't call it stealing," George protested.

"It's simply a reallocation of supplies," Fred shrugged. "Still for an education."

"A hands on, useful education."

Wren rolled her eyes and continued on. "You're in charge of the cauldron and ingredients. If I agree to do anything it's just to make the potion."

"Oh, you'll agree," Fred said, trailing behind her slightly with George.

"You're sure, are you?" Wren asked, turning around in the hall.

Fred's eyes sparkled. "Dead certain."

Wren rolled her eyes and spun back around, polishing off the remainder of her scone and brushing her hand against her side. Behind her the boys continued their conversation about ingredients and she worked her way to the Charms classroom.

"Hey Collings, my mate thinks you're tidy!" a voice shouted out to her, and she stopped, spinning around to see Simon strolling up with Hector and Edmund. Simon rolled his eyes as Hector laughed, and Wren smiled, allowing him to catch up to her. Fred and George also stopped, and she could feel both pairs of eyes on her.

"Good morning, love," Simon said, coming up to her and letting Hector and Edmund pass by snickering and casting a glance back at Simon.

"It's morning, not sure how good it is though," Wren pouted, falling into step with him.

Simon smiled. "You shouldn't be so grumpy in the mornings. It doesn't suit you," he said, rubbing the crease in her brow with his finger. "Besides, isn't it a good morning when you get a rare sighting of your boyfriend?"

"A fair point," Wren agreed, allowing herself a smile as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

"Is that toast?" he asked, looking down at her hand, and Wren nodded. Simon reached over plucking it from her grip and taking a bite. "You mind? I'm still famished."

"Go ahead," Wren nodded.

"Where are you off to then?" Simon asked, taking another bite of toast.

"Charms."

The word didn't come from Wren. Instead, Fred appeared suddenly by her side, George next to him. Wren could see the subtle shift in Simon's face. The confusion and small question there as he looked down at her. "Is that so?"

Wren rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her heart seemed to skip over a beat. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Fred asked, putting a hand over his own heart. "I'm wounded Wren, I thought we were friends."

Wren snorted and shook her head.

"You're friends?" Simon asked, looking down at her again before casting a glance and Fred and George. "That's news to me."

"Keep a catalogue of her friends do you?" Fred asked. Wren turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. His words seemed sharper than his usual teases. Her heart beat a bit quicker.

"Smart. Must come in handy when this one goes on about her day," George nodded. "Or at parties, I'd imagine."

Wren laughed, the sound higher than normal. She cleared her throat and reached up, threading her fingers through Simon's so that both hands rested on her shoulder. "Our campsites were next to each other at the World Cup and we got on," she explained, looking up at Simon as he absently bit from the toast, eyes still on the twins. "Now they bother me whenever they have the chance."

"You know us. Botherers." George said, and Simon shook his head at it all. He might have said something else if the Hallway didn't split, one leading to the greenhouses, and the other off to Charms.

"Well, so long as they don't bother you too much," he said, pulling Wren in closer to him. He leaned down and kissed her hard, his lips pressing against hers so forcefully, she felt the blood and heat rush to her face as she attempted to pull the kiss back into a normal hallway peck. She was rather unsuccessful and stayed locked in his embrace until eventually he let go, and with a nod of goodbye at Fred and George, turned off down the hall.

"Change your mind about how good the morning is Collings?" George nodded appraisingly, as a slightly stunned Wren turned back towards them.

"Oh, shove it," Wren snapped lightly before following them off to class and enduring more teasing than she possibly should have to for it being before nine in the morning.

She intended to tell them no.

It wasn't as if she had any moral qualms with breaking the rules, but it seemed to be a lot of wasted time and energy and for what--so they could attempt to enter a tournament they weren't even prepared for? There was no guarantee they'd even be picked. And what if it came back on her and she got in trouble for breaking the rules.

No. She'd have to tell them no.

Even though Simon was right and the school year had smoothed out some in terms of workload, she was too busy to willingly waste her time on a pipe dream.

But the spare bits of time that were already wasted once she was finished taking notes in class and waiting for everyone else to catch up? That wasn't too much time to devote to the idea.

Wren bent over her parchment, scanning over her list of prospective ingredients. There was the set list needed, and then several others she'd included on a whim: dandelion root, tadpole legs, a little more fluxweed. She considered the list for a second before scrawling at the bottom: boomslang skin?

"What are you working on?" Cedric whispered, lowly. Wren's head snapped towards him, an arm reflexively coming around her parchment as if to shield it from view.

He let out an amused exhale and raised his eyebrows as if to say Really? "An illicit project then?"

"No," Wren returned defensively. She paused, taking a moment to fully consider it. "Maybe."

Cedric smiled, and she lifted up her pitiful shield arm, putting her head in her hand instead to shield his face from view as she slid the parchment over to him.

"An ageing potion?" Cedric asked, a tinge of disappointment coloring his voice. "What's so--" he seemed to catch on then. "For the Tournament?"

Wren nodded and dropped her hand. "It's not for me, though."

"Of course not," he dismissed, eyes returning to the list of ingredients with her additions and ideas about ways to modify the brewing process.

"It's not," Wren protested a bit too loudly, casting her glance around and finding Snape staring at her. She picked up her quill and bent her head down, pretending to be copying more notes.

"I don't blame you for wanting to enter, I'm planning on it," Cedric noted, dropping his own voice lower as well. "What's with all of the extra ingredients?"

Wren chanced another look up at Snape, whose head was bent over a stack of parchments on his desk. She looked over Cedric's shoulder at her notes. "If I want to make a potion that gets around Dumbledore's precautions, it can't be a simple ageing potion. It needs to address any potential...failsafes."

Cedric turned to look at her. "You're a bit of a genius, aren't you?"

Wren flushed. "I haven't even decided if I'm going to make it yet."

"I don't see why not," Cedric said, pushing the parchment back over to Wren. "If you're able to make this, you'd deserve more of a shot at being Champion than me. I'm just putting my name in. I do have a question though," he said, and Wren nodded, looking down at her scribblings.

"Have you considered adding lovage?"

She shook her head.

"If you crushed it right, the effects would be harmless to the drinker, but it would sweat through…"

"And create an air of confusion around them," Wren finished, eyes widening. The aura might make it more likely for the seller to miss the fact that the twins were aged up. "That's brilliant," she complimented, adding the ingredient to her list.

"Happy to have helped," Cedric nodded at her, his eyes catching on something up front before bending over his work. "Snape's coming," he hissed.

Wren shuffled the notes between other bits of parchment under her books, pulling out her finished Potions notes and feeling a little less than certain in her impending refusal of the twins' request.

No good deed went unpunished.

That was the only possible explanation for Fred Weasley to be dropping his books next to hers right now. She was being punished for turning Thom Spiro purple. Despite the fact it was two weeks later. It seemed that karma took time.

"Don't look so excited," Fred chastised. "I've recently learned that Herbology is serious business, so I can't be helping you with your mischief."

Wren glowered, and in return, he winked at her.

“This is part of your plan isn’t it?” Wren asked, narrowing her eyes at Fred. “All that on Tuesday was so you’d get reassigned to be my partner?”

She was referencing, of course, the awful prank he had played on Anthony Hooper. Throughout the entire class Fred had continuously baited the Poulpeplant into wrapping one of its vines around Anthony’s foot so that any time he moved, it yanked him back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

It hadn't been until the end of class that Anthony caught Fred dropping bits of bait into his pants' cuff.

The class had had a laugh and ended before Professor Sprout had been able to fully lecture Fred about the dangers of messing around in Herbology.

She still had plenty of time to take away 25 points from Gryffindor, though.

“Now why would I want to be your partner? You poisoned your last one.”

“I did not!” Wren hissed. “He wasn’t my partner, and it was a light poisoning at most.” She paused, pieces clicking together. "You're here to get me to help you steal ingredients. Aren't you?"

"First off, I believe I already clarified that we aren't stealing--we're reallocating. And second, you made it very clear that obtaining ingredients wasn't part of the deal."

"It's not."

"Could be though."

"But it's not."

"You have been known to be light-fingered."

Wren glared and Fred smiled. “We have another plan for the ingredients. Getting reassigned to be your partner is but a happy accident.”

She did not believe him. "I'm not helping you get ingredients. I haven't even decided if I'll help you," Wren said.

Fred gave her a very disbelieving look and then reached over, and tugged her copy of Advanced Potions Making from her stack of books. Wren let out a noise of protest, but before she could further yell at him, he cut her off. "You don't have Potions today."

Wren reached over to grab the book back as her clear objection was ignored. "You know my schedule?"

"Of course I do. It's part of the planning," he dismissed, pulling it out of her grasp and holding it up. "Which begs the question why are you carrying this around?"

It was then that he seemed to catch sight of the parchment sticking out and slipped it out from the book.

Wren reached forward only to have Fred shove the book back in her hands. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this looks like the makings of an age potion."

There was no point in arguing that it was for Potions. Fred was frustrating, grandstanding, and overeager, but sadly, he was not stupid.

"I wanted to see if it could even be done before I agreed to it."

"You were curious," Fred grinned, looking rather like the niffler that caught the galleon.

"I was being practical," Wren defended.

Fred shook his head. "You already knew you could make an age potion. You wanted to see if you could make the best age potion." Fred bent over the parchment. "So what's with these ingredients?"

Wren summoned the parchment back to her and it flew through Fred's fingers, rolling itself up so she could tuck it in her bag. "I was brainstorming different ways to make the potion foolproof. Or fool sure. Adding an aura of conversion, binding it more strongly with your DNA, making the effects more permanent--"

"More permanent?" Fred asked. "Eager as I am to enter the Tournament, it's not worth losing six months of life over."

"Not permanent permanent," she corrected. "Just until your birthday."

Fred seemed less uneasy and more curious now. "Why?"

"Because Dumbledore knows we all brewed aging potions for the NEWTS."

"Honestly, I'm flattered by how intelligent you think I am, but I'm going to need you to explain more," Fred prompted.

Wren opened her mouth to explain right as Professor Sprout called the class to order. Wren shut her mouth turning to the front, listening as the professor began to explain their fertilization experiment for the day. Beside her, she could still feel Fred's eyes intensely on her, and she knew he wouldn't drop the conversation.

"What if whatever Dumbledore does to protect the judge can sense if your age changes faster than it naturally should? If the age potion were to wear off on your birthday, the change of age would seem natural. Right?" Wren whispered.

"You're a bloody genius," Fred murmured back, and Wren shook her head, her cheeks heating up. "A natural inventor."

"I'm not inventing anything. Just using theory to adapt a potion that should otherwise already work," Wren argued lightly.

"In the history books, Wren. You're gonna be in history books."

Wren shook her head and decided to give Professor Sprout her full attention.

...

Despite what Wren might have supposed, Fred had quite a knack for Herbology. Between the two of them, had managed to distract and add new fertilizer to three of the five Poulpeplants in the time it took most students in the class to get just one. Wren changed it up to Fred being both extremely distracting by nature and surprisingly nimble. Although frankly that shouldn't have been much of a surprise what with all of the pranks he pulled around the castle. Still, Wren couldn't help but admire his focus and skill.

"We make a natural team," Fred said with a grin, nudging Wren's shoulder. She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips turned up.

"We're just both good at Herbology," Wren dismissed.

Fred heaved a great sigh. "Oh come on, Wren. You want to help us. I can see it in you. You've practically done half of the work already."

Wren shook her head, taking up the defensive stance in front of the plant. Fred stood behind the plant, his eyes fixated on her as if he were proficient at Occlumency. Maybe it was the fear that he was that drove her to finally say, "Oh, alright, then."

A bright look of triumph flashed across Fred's face as he beamed. "Excellent. We'll negotiate the details later, but right now, you might want to hold your nose."

Wren's brow furrowed. "What?"

And then she smelled it. A putrid smell clawed up Wren's throat, choking her and turning her stomach. Quickly she backed away from the plant, flinging an arm over her nose as Fred's hand shot up. "Professor! Is the fertilizer supposed to smell like this?" his voice came out nasally due to his nose being pinched between his two fingers. Professor Sprout hurried towards them as Fred cast Wren a wink.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she looked under the table. A dung bomb.

"Everyone out of the greenhouse," Professor Sprout ordered, as the students made for the door, coughing and gagging. It took all of four minutes for the class to fully escape into the fresh air, fanning out on the lawn. Wren pulled in lungful after lungful of the crisp air, but the memory of the smell seemed set on her clothes.

Beside her, Fred was receiving an excellent telling off from Professor Sprout, ending with him earning himself a detention fertilizing all of the greenhouses for a week. He looked appropriately remorseful throughout the ordeal, but as Professor Sprout turned and headed towards the greenhouse to clear it out, he cast a look out of the corner of his eye to Wren.

He was a genius. A mad genius. But a genius all the same.

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