#which is cutting it kinda close but sounds doable | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spilledkauffie · 4 years ago

Text

Little Snitch

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x ForceSensitive!Reader Word Count: 1.4k T/W: chronic pain/illness, ft. fluff A/N: vent fic, I thought it was kinda cute, might be kinda stupid though

Din had welcomed you in as a permanent passenger of the Razor Crest almost a year ago; he’d known you longer, but never in quite as close proximity as the present one. He knew he needed you to stay when he saw how you connected with Grogu. Now aware that what you really were was force sensitive, he thought you’d make an excellent companion for Grogu, even if you weren’t a Jedi, he could still communicate with you in a way that Din knew he couldn’t.

Likewise, Din had to admit he appreciated your company. About six months into your stay with them, feelings were shared and hearts raced as the two of you talked through the night about what would become of said feelings. In conclusion you decided the two of you were officially a couple, Grogu would be both your responsibilities until further notice. Naturally when Din asked if Grogu knew about your feelings before he did, you answered “of course,” with a smile and the child snorted in response to the Mandalorian’s question.

Despite being extremely open with Din, there were things you still tried to hide, namely your ever present pain, sometimes it was mentally but mostly it was physically. He knew about it, of course, but you didn’t like to acknowledge it and you didn’t want to cause a scene over it. Especially being in such close spaces, you figured yourself annoying if you brought it up as often as you felt it.

However, there was always a little snitch you forgot about...

This time it came on strong, first in your head then throughout your body radiating through you, almost paralyzing. You were in the cargo bay of the ship organizing a few things here and there so you’d have more room to play hide and seek with Grogu, when you staggered back towards something to support yourself against. Leaning against the metal doors that contained his weapons, you enjoyed the coolness, feeling as though it numbed the pain a little.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhaled deeply and exhaled calmly. It lingered, and you twitched at the intensity a few times, but eventually it subsided to a dullness. Letting out a hum of annoyance with your own self, you opened your eyes to find Grogu a few inches from your feet, tilting his head.

You dropped your shoulders, “no, it’s not that bad.”

He let out a little whine, still staring at you, “he doesn’t need to know,” you said, turning around to continue rearranging, when suddenly Grogu let out a loud little cry, bringing your attention back around to him. Immediately crouching down to his height you tried to hush him. Picking him up and bouncing him.

“Grogu, honey,” you tried, “I’m okay he doesn’t need to know-”

“Doesn’t need to know what?” You heard the familiar muffled voice behind you.

Closing your eyes and turning to face him you swallowed, not wanting to lie to him. He stood there looking between you and the child tenderly, even in the helmet you knew exactly what kind of look he was giving. You parted your lips to begin an explanation when it came over you again. Snapping your eyes shut and placing a hand to your temple, you swayed side to side, uneasily. Grogu reached a hand to touch the bottom of your jaw, and gave a distraught little coo.

“Whoa,” Din exclaimed as collectedly as he could, while rushing to brace you. He came around behind you and steadied your elbow in which Grogu was settled with a hand under it for support. His other hand came to your waist, pulling you back against him for better stability. He managed to slip the child from your grasp, setting Grogu on the floor, so he could better assist you.

“I’m really fine-” you were cut off with a wince as you clutched your side with a furrowed brow. Tossing your head back, you were resting against the front of his shoulder while you slightly groaned.

“Somehow I don’t believe you,” Din said with a slight chuckle, making you partially laugh to yourself.

His hand ghosted up your side, as he wasn’t entirely sure where you were hurting and where his hand might help. With your head on his shoulder, he looked down at you, and you felt the metal edge of his helmet against your temple. With his opposite hand he held your hand in his, he could feel you tightly grasping it for support.

“This is the closest we’ve been in a while,” Din stated.

You hummed, placing your hand atop his settled above your hip.

“Yeah well-” before you could finish you had passed out, causing Din to have to completely embrace you as your body began to sink.

He lifted you up into his arms, almost cradling you, before looking down to Grogu, “what would I do without you, kid? ...she’d have never told me.”

Grogu tilted his head again, followed by a warm coo and giggle.

When you woke up, you found yourself in the cockpit, under at least two blankets. Looking up, Din was in the pilot’s chair and looking to your right you saw two bright eyes staring at you from a carriage crib. You smiled softly at Grogu, he cooed back, bringing Din’s attention to you. He turned around, saying nothing.

“What happened?” You asked as you hugged yourself tightly.

“You...passed out again,” Din explained, voice sounding broken.

“Oh,” you nodded, looking to the floor instead of him, “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to make a scene, especially while we were flying.”

“You didn’t, it’s okay,” his voice sounded a little brighter, more reassuring, but still hurt in his own way, “I’m just glad Grogu was with you or I’d have never known,” Din turned away from you, returning to piloting, “sorry I’m not force sensitive.”

Your jaw gaped a little at the cold sting towards you, but thinking on it more, you knew he was making a point. Despite being in a relationship, you hardly ever let him know how you were feeling, mentally and physically. The only way he ever found out was if Grogu made him aware of it thanks to your connection. It wasn’t fair to Din and you knew it, especially after he’d let you in.

Crossing your arms tightly across yourself, you nodded to no one in particular, feeling Grogu’s kind thoughts towards you. Yet, somehow they didn’t help, you still felt tears swelling. Biting the inside of your lip, you tried to stay as quiet as you could.

“Look,” Din turned back around, “I just- why don’t you trust me with this?”

“I do, Din, I really do,” you said.

He tilted his head and you knew that you didn’t make him feel like you trusted him. Which was the main problem.

“I’m just really bad at expressing it,” you curled into yourself a bit more, before meeting his eye line, “I don’t want to be annoying.”

“You’re not annoying,” he responded.

“You seem annoyed,” you said, but regretted it the moment you heard yourself say it.

The Mandalorian took a deep breath, glancing over at Grogu, who was witness to the whole conversation. Cute as can be with his big ears and bright eyes, listening and watching intently.

“Okay, listen,” Din started, resting his forearms on his knees, leaning closer to you in the passenger seat, “I’m a protector, and I just want to protect you. And this is something I can’t spot unless you tell me,” Din sighed, “so when you don’t tell me, I feel like I fail you...and that’s something I never want to do”

You tilted your head, tears now slowly crawling down your cheek as he admitted his heart to you. Grogu lowered his ears after feeling what you were, meanwhile Din gave you a hoarse ‘hey’ for encouragement. You still didn't meet his gaze though, instead you reached out a silent hand, it took him a moment, but he placed his under yours once again feeling you squeeze his hand for support.

“You could never fail me,” you turned to face him, a little embarrassed at all the emotions taking over, “I can’t control this, and sometimes it feels like it controls me. But I promise when I feel it most, I will let you know from now on.”

“Alright, good,” you could hear his smile.

“So long as you agree that we have more close moments, not brought on by an episode of mine,” you raised him one more.

“Alright, that seems doable,” he shook his head.

Suddenly Gorgu broke his silence, cooing happily.

“Yes,” you sniffled your tears back and smiled widely, reaching your other hand for his, connecting the three of you. Grogu grasped his little hand around your finger, “you did good...this time, you little snitch.”

The child snorted.

411 notes · View notes

ms-indifferwnt · 4 years ago

Text

Anagrams

Taeyong

Mafia!Taeyong x genderneutral!reader

“Please don’t leave me. I’ll do anything. I’ll stop. I’ll quit but please just stay. Please, I have to make this right”

Warnings: Blood, Cursing, Angst, Groping, mention of Strippers, Suicide and Murder, Death, Suggestive

Word Count: 6.7k

Note: Enjoyyyy

Oh this is just great, Y/n thought as you ran into your building, you stopped by the door, to compose yourself, you’re ten minutes late, its fine its doable

Calming your nerves down you enters the bar and slip into the bathroom, it was quite easy the sea of people being a great distraction, you enter a stall, there you stand still after finally counting to ten you make your way out and see your boss, perfect, you think and grin

“Sir,” You jogged and smiled “Sorry there was an emergency, I was in the bathroom and I,” you even made a show of making random hand movements to emphasize your point “I couldn’t hold it in, but that’s not the point, I’m here, where do you need me?”

Your boss just nods not bothering to question the younger “Just help the others serve the drinks, quickly Y/n” he reminds and you nod, leaving to assist their work mates in serving

Taking a couple of drinks far the bar, serving them around, sure you get groped and wolf whistled and yeah its disgusting to be around people like this but it pays well, you may not be a stripper but serving also has its perks

You didn’t know it at the time, but a man had notice your late arrival and your quick thinking of going into the bathroom, you didn’t know this but he kept close eye on you, he was intrigued by your quick thinking and how you handled the situation

The day was ending and so was your shift, happily serving the last couple of people, going through the sea of people yelping once a firm slap lands your butt

"Oh we got a firm one over here" the man snarls and you glare at the man, moving to walk away, only to be grabbed by the arm so you will collide to their chest

"Let me go," You warn and attempted to pull away from the man only for him to wrap his arms around your waist

"Why in such a hurry, pretty?" he asks and reaches out to cup your cheeks when you moved to step on his feet

"I said let me go" You said angry and walked away, this is exactly why being a server in a strip joint isn't exactly admirable either

"You bitch!" The man yelled and Y/n spun around and everything was in slow motion, you could see how the man had his fist raised ready to hit you only to be stopped by a man, gripping his wrist, tilting it upward and landing a punch on the man's face

His hair was dyed red, you could tell the black roots also dead give a way. his maroon suit being slightly messed up by his activity and he sighs and fixes them. He looked powerful, like the type to walk all over someone but that surely isn’t the case, right?

"They made themselves clear," The newcomer reminds and glares at the man "You're disgusting" he notes and takes a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his hand, and looks at you with chilling eyes that made your skin crawl "Go"

You bow and moved to walk away

The second time you have met with your savior was a couple weeks later, It was a normal day, went to work, served customers, thought about your mysterious savior. For the past couple of days you couldn’t stop thinking about him, why had he helped you?

You woke up from your thoughts once the bartender calls you over for a new batch for the gentlemen in table fifteen, taking the tray you walked to the assigned table only to be greeted by a familiar red hair, it was the man, and he was with his friends, they all looked close by the way they were able to laugh and joke around, you placed the drinks on their table and looked at the man only to see his eyes on you

“Um,” you bowed, making everyone on the table, stop talking and looked at the server who had bowed “Thank you for saving me” you said once you gotten a good look you realized how familiar he seemed but that was probably cause he saved you

The man smiles, his serious expression melting away and looks at her “Oh, i knew it was you, how are you? The man ever returned?”

“No” You shake your head “Thank you for that-”

“No need to bow,” He interrupts

You straighten “He hasn’t returned ever since you showed up”

“I’m glad” He smiles softly and waves everyone away and just like that they all returned to their conversations

“I really wanna thank you-”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to”

“I insist”

He chuckles and nods “Lets go get a drink then, on you”

You shake your head, “I can’t,” you said and lead him to the bar “I’m working, I can’t drink”

“It’s fine” he replies and waves the bartender down

If there was one thing you know about this bar, is that its absolutely hard to get the bartenders attention, you have to have pretty legs, breasts and eyes to get there attention or you’re someone important. You watched as the man ordered a drink for himself

“I’ll take a Mojito,” he says and looks at you “What about you?”

You shake your head and smiled politely “No I’m good, I came here to get you your drink. I’m not supposed to be drinking”

He laughs “come on, It’ll be fine” He points to himself “I won’t say anything, “ he looks at the bartender “Will you say anything?” which he earned a shake of the head “See? come on”

You bit your lip, this really isn’t a good idea, but the again your boss will understand if you were drinking only because a customer wants to, right? You’d rather drink then get a complaint, again

“Um, a cosmopolitan” You replied after a while and the bartender nods moving to fulfil our orders

He smiles triumphantly and nods “You like sweets don’t you?”

“Why would you sat that?”

“A cosmopolitan? its sweet”

“I don’t judge you and your mint”

He laughs “You know I haven’t had anyone talk to me like that in years”

“Well, I don’t think want to, you kinda look scary”

“So you thought I was scary?”

“Still do,” You answered honestly “You just punched a man when we met and he went reeling, your friends on your table literally obeyed the moment you waved them off, The bartender-” you nod and smile at him as he places both of your drinks down “Thank you” You looked at the man across from you “The bartender doesn’t easily come when beckoned.” You noted and took a sip “You must be really important”

He blinks and takes a sip of his drink “You,” he tilts his head “Don’t know who I am?”

You shake your head “No, should I?”

He took another sip “No, I’m not really important” He replies and sees two people from his table nod towards the door and he subtly nods "Thanks for the drink we should do this again sometime"

You laugh "I don't even know your name"

He stops and looks at at you as if debating something, well in reality he was taken aback y your laugh, he loved it, something about it made him want to keep hearing it, and he’ll make sure to hear it again "When we meet again, I'll tell you" He winks and leaves you on by the bar

The man sat between two of his colleagues as they spoke and laughed together. The Red haired man not paying ay kind of attention to his friends as they spoke, he had his eyes everywhere as if searching for something

“You know Taeyong, we’re starting to worry about you” One spoke his bluish-black hair matching his dark blue blazer

“Worry?” He asked and that when the blonde boy by his left side spoke

“Yes, Worry” Mark answers “You have been distracted lately, Hyung. You of all people can’t be distracted”

“I get that Mark” Taeyong nods and smiles at the younger and assured “and I’m not distracted, I’m interested”

Mark shrugs taking his drink and taking a sip

“Kun,” Taeyong calls and looks at the blue haired man “You don’t think I’m distracted, right?” Kun just looks at him and Taeyong sighs “I’m not,I can still carry on our plans”

“We know you can Taeyong,” Kun assures and places his hand on Taeyong’s back “but if Mark and I think you are, you better bet other people might think so too. Becareful, ok?”

Taeyong opens his mouth to tell them both off when he hears a familiar laugh that made him swerve his head towards the sound, only to see you in your normal clothes. It may be a coincidence but your eyes met and he smiles softly

You didn’t know that he was there, you were finally done with your shift and ready to go home when you spot him and he beckons you over, slowly making your way towards him he grins “Heading home?”

You nod “You kind of missed me” you teased “looks like we’ll have to drink next time”

“So there is a next time?” He asks

You shrug “who knows?”

Taeyong moves forward from his seat a bit, extends his hand and offers it to you “Do you still wanna know?”

You stare at it and thought for a second on what he meant, before taking it and nodding “it might be nice to call you something else then My red haired saviour”

Taeyong could feel Mark and Kun look at each other from the corner of their eyes. Taeyong laughs “its,” he pauses and clears his throat “My name Agi Lyeton”

You tilt your head “How unique” you replied and smiled

“I have unique parents”

“I can tell,” you said and shook his hand, pulling away “Nice to finally meet you Agi Lyeton, see you around”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”

“maybe next time” You winked and bowed before walking away

“Why did you lie?” Mark asks once you were gone “They probably know who you are”

“They don’t” Taeyong replies “and I intend to keep it that way”

“Its an anagram isn’t it?” Kun cuts in and Mark and Taeyong looks at him “the name you gave them?”

Taeyong nods and Mark grabs a tissue writing down the letters, when Taeyong confirmed “A-g-i L-y-e-t-o-n” he tilts his head “None of them spell Taeyong Hyung’s name”

“Sound the letters out not by spelling” Kun suggests and Taeyong watches as Mark gets to work

Just then Taeyong was reminded how much of an advantage he has thanks to these two, with Mark’s memory and Kun’s intelligence, he was thankful these two were on his side

“A G-e-e L-y-e T-o-n” Mark wrote once again and then nods “Oh, yeah, I see it now” he says and rearranges the letters “L-e-e T-a-e-y-o-n-g” he wrote and then grabbed his lighter to burn the notes on the tisue

“You should work on your anagram skills Mark” Taeyong says and Mark looks at him in shock

“Hey” He starts “I can think of 300 anagrams in one word, my skills are fine”

Kun chuckles and Taeyong nods “now, down to business?” he was greeted with a nod “Go on” he motions

Kun starts “The last shipment should be at WayV Headquarters by tomorrow afternoon”

“Why not today?” Taeyong asks and Mark takes his phone out to look at the texts

“Winwin and Hendery got a little sidetracked” Kun answers “but the delay shouldn’t affect our plans”

Taeyog nods and looks at Mark “All witness’ are being taken care of by Dream as we speak” Mark assures “No Witness, No Crime” he quotes

“Good” Taeyong nods approvingly, “then we will proceed as planned by the end of the month”

“Oh Hyung,” Mark calls “I’m gonna need to borrow Haechan”

“What for?”

“There’s something he and Jaemin need to crack so we can find the other witness

Taeyong takes his phone out to contact the boy without another word

You ang Lyeton met again after a day, you came to work and he was speaking to one of the servers, or atleast you think that was Lyeton

"Lyeton?"

"Hey" he greets and smiles

"You," you made a face

"what?" he tilts his head "is there something on my face?"

"Um your hair"

"Oh," he smiles "You like it?"

Like it? you asked yourself, you are absolutely baffled, he looks beautiful his now dyed black hair was eye-catching he looked beautiful that you didn’t realize that you had your hand out and ready to touch it

“So,” he starts “is that a yes?”

You nod “You’re too handsome it’s not fair” You pout

He laughs “you say that as if it’s legal to be you” he starts and fumbles with his words

“was that supposed to be a line?”

“depends did it work?”

“No?”

He frowns “then no it wasn’t a line”

You couldn’t help but laugh “you should work on it” you suggested “I’ll be more than happy to hear the finished product Lyeton” you teased

And he rolls his eyes “I would tease you back but I don’t know your name yet”

“yet?”

“Cause your considering” he grins

“Y/n!” your boss’s voice calls and you spun around “I’m not paying you to flirt with customers!” he stops once he sees Taeyong and Taeyong shakes his head at the man with a glare as if telling him to keep his mouth shut “Go get ready” he says voice softer and leaves

“I gotta go” you murmur and bowed apologetically

“When do you get off Y/n?” He says and stands up to grab you by the sleeve

“Why?��

“I wanna spend time with you, is all”

A smile leaves your lips “really?”

He nods “so,” he trails off “When do you get off?”

“eleven thirty” you answered and smiled “See you around”

You giggled once you arrived home, Lyeton waited for you and drove you home with the excuse that someone as pretty as you should not be going home alone. So you sat in the passenger’s seat of his Mercedes-Benz and you guys drove. The drive wasn’t awkward like you thought it would be, it was cozy and the way you both conversed was as if you two were old friends catching up and Lyeton eagerly and oh so obediently listened to everything you would discuss, anything you were willing to share, from what’s your favorite thing about the seasons to why you don’t eat beans

It was dumb, all of it, but he kept your words locked in a chest in his mind, he makes a metal note of everything, he remembers that you subconsciously pick your nails when your upset, or that you can’t eat chocolate with bread, or that you like salty and sweet foods, he doesn’t know why but he keeps the information about you close to his heart

Neither of you noticed or even cared but he was already parked outside of your home, you and him were still still talking, and neither of you realized how close you were until you could see the way his adam’s apple bobbed with his gulp

“Can,” he whispers softly “Can I kiss you?”

A blush covers your cheeks and you stared at him for a moment before nodding “Yeah” you whispered back looking down

He reaches up and locks his fingers under your chin so he can take your lips in his. Softly moving your lips in sync with his, you couldn’t help but have your eyes close, his touch was soft and caring, giving you the option of pulling away but you didn’t, he was intoxicating, his scent and his taste. He moves to cup your cheek with one hand keeping you in place.

Slowly and reluctantly you pulled away, chests heaving as you both looked at each other “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” he promises “I’ll take you out to breakfast?”

You nod shyly and he smiles as you stand to leave his car, offering one last wave before you entered

That was how your relationship with Agi Lyeton began. You and him have dated for a little over a year now and going strong.

One time he took you out on a date to a spa cause quote on quote “You need to relax and take a breather, you need a spa day, Cranky”

He has oh-so-lovingly given you that nickname when you kicked him off the bed that one time he ate all your cookies, so he called you cranky and kicked him again and now that’s his term of endearment for you, along with beautiful and puppy, which he decided to call you after your love of dogs

The cake of the spa date was that he joined you, the massages, the facials, the body treatments, the manicures, he let you experience the shebang that day and you were thankful

Except he saw something, the thing you’ve been trying to hide from almost everyone in your life

“Are these self inflicted?” he asks after the massage, when you finally returned to your hotel, and takes your hand to see the scars on your wrist up until your forearm you bit your lip only to pull your arm away, pulling your sleeve down and looked down

“It’s nothing Lyeton” you replied and moved to look at your wrist, you weren’t proud of it, these scars and sometimes you like to pretend they don’t exist, people don’t like the scars on a you

“You’re ruining yourself”

“a person is ugly with scars”

“You’re doing this for attention”

“I don’t understand why you would even cut yourself?”

Will Lyeton leave you after seeing the scars? Will he despise you? Will he-

You woke up from your thoughts when you felt Lyeton hug you from behind “Don’t do that,” he whispers “Can I see?” he asks and hold your hand

You shake your head

“That’s fine,” he whispers again as he kisses your finger tips “Its ok, show me when you're ready ok?” he whispers again then kisses your palm “I’ll wait till then,” He kisses your covered wrist “Don’t feel pressured in showing me” he moves to up more, landing one affectionate kiss on your shoulder “I’ll still be here with or without your scars,” he assured and landed a small innocent kiss on your neck as a small sob leaves your lips

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered and he slowly pushes you down on the bed so that he is hovering over you, holding you close to his chest as he hugs and holds you close

“Don’t be sorry, you’re absolutely perfect to me” he says and slowly leans in to kiss you, swallowing you sobs in the kiss, keeping you close and pouring out all his feelings into the kiss

Slowly he pulls away and cups your cheeks as you spoke, grabbing his sleeve so he’ll stay close “Please don’t stop”

He looks at you “Y/n-”

you shake your head “tell me,” you looked away “everything you find perfect about me” you whisper and he smiles

“Do you really not want me to stop?”

You nod “don’t stop”

He nods and happily complies to your words, he kisses you again, whispering loving and sweet words against your lips and skin, leaving marks on your neck and chest as he tells you everything he finds perfect. You didn’t realize that both of your clothes were removed and scattered in the room ‘till he trails his kisses and sweet words lower and lower ‘till all you can think about was him, and how much he cares and notices every detail about you.

You slept soundly that night, in his arms as he whispers praises and words of affection into your ear.

You woke up the next morning by yourself and fear ran through your veins. Where’s Lyeton? Did he leave you? Was last night just a way to get his way with you? Was he faking it all those words?

You can feel the tears in your eyes when his voice tore through the open door “I need that meeting scheduled Jaehyun,” he sighs “I don’t care what you do or say, get me that meeting. And don’t bother calling me unless you’ve scheduled it, understand?”

He ends the call and takes a deep breath, before retiring inside the room only to see you awake and on the brink of crying, his breath catches in his throat, did you hear the convo? Did Y/n figure out he isn’t who he says he is? Is Y/n angry that he lied?

“I thought you left me” you whispered and Taeyong visibly relaxed before kissing your hair

“Never,” he assures “I’m sorry, I had a call from work”

You nod “sorry,” you relied “I’m a bit emotional”

He laughs “It’s cute” he moves to go under the covers and cuddled you from there

You blushed and pulled away “No, wait I’m still sweaty and sticky from last night” you looked at him “and you’re all dressed and ready and clean, and I’m still naked”

He laughs and pulls you closer to his chest “I don’t mind getting all sweaty and sticky again” He grins

“Lyeton!”

He laughs again “How about I ready you a bath, you bath, then we cuddle?”

You nod

“Can I shower with you then?”

You blushed and shook your head “Lyeton-”

He nods “I’m kidding, I’ll go ready you a bath” he says and stands kissing your temple and walking to the bathroom

After you’ve taken a bath, Lyeton was on the bed watching TV his eyes twinkled his eyes twinkled in delight “Come cuddle” he calls out and opens his arms in which you were more than happy to comply

“Where do you wanna go next?” He asks after a while

“What?”

“Next week?”

You chuckle and pinched his cheeks “I can’t next week”

“Why not?”

“I have to go home,” You answered and moved to face him “you know,” you motioned “my brother’s death anniversary”

Taeyong nods, “sorry”

You smile “you didn’t know” You smile and kissed his cheek “It’s alright”

“Can I ask, how?”

You nod and lied down “Suicide” Taeyong looks at you “Its alright I know he’s happy now”

“You need any help? I can book you a flight-”

You laugh “It’s fine, I got it” You smile “Just wait for me when I get back ok?”

Arriving at your home town after a long time gave you a sense of nostalgia and pain, you remember everything you and your brother did

That sense of dread only worsened once you stood in front of your childhood home

You missed your parents, you did, but the thought of not hearing your brother’s laugh or voice. You didn’t realize it but your standing in front of your brothers grave

You just sat there, talking mindlessly to your brother’s tomb stone “Don’t orry about me, ok?” you spoke and smiled sadly “I’m doing great, I still work at the stripper bar-” you paused as if listening to his reply “as a server you perv” you said with disdain and you could practically hear him laugh, it only made your heart ache

You spoke more, imagining your brother beside you rather than his grave, and for a moment it seemed like he was beside you

”Ok, Ouch” He laughs and takes a deep breath “Are you ok? You’re not being used? mistreated?”

You shake your head, “I’m fine, actually I was groped at some point”

He blinks “What-”

“No no” you quickly spoke “It’s ok, someone saved me” He nods and looks at you, waiting for you to continue “He’s my boyfriend, and honestly, he’s so perfect”

He laughs “Nobody is perfect” He says and points at you “He could be a murderer or something”

“Stop” You laugh

He laughs as well then sighs “how long are you gonna keep this up?”

You looked at him “What?”

“I’ve been dead for three years, move on”

“Hansol-” you called once you noticed him start to fade

“I’d rather you live your life” he murmurs “then blame yourself for the past”

You reached out to hold his hand only to wake up “Hansol!” you called and sobbed once you realize you fell asleep on his grave “I’m sorry” you whimper and hugged your knees

You and your parents have been avoiding your brother’s room ever since then, it was closed not locked, everything and anything that ever reminded any of you about Hansol was placed in a box and hidden in his room

You never thought about his death, you were too scared to, but here you were in front of his room cause maybe your brother was right, you had to move on and in order to do that, you have to enter his room.

You swallowed, entering his room, almost immediately you wanted to run away, it looked exactly like it did that day, except some of the boxes of his belongings by the corner. You could almost see his last minute with you, like a movie, you see him gathering his stuff and a younger version of you standing by the door way with a pout “You promised to play Uno with me, Hansol”

He laughs and looks at you, patting your head “When I get back, this is important, Taeyong is counting on me”

You huff and crossed my arms, making him smile “I promise, when I get back, lets play, ok?”

you nod “Promise?”

“Promise”

You sobbed and fell on your knees once, you remembered that painful memory “You promised you Jack ass” you cried “You fucking liar, you never came home” you think this was the first time in years you’ve ever mourned your brother’s death, you wished he was here and you hated the fact it took you so long, you hated him, you hated yourself

You sat on his bed after your breakdown, wrapped in his blanket as you looked through his stuff, spotting one of his old laptops you grin and taking it out of the box

There was a password and you sigh. You and your brother were close surely you could guess his password, right? so you started off with the basics, his name, his name spelled backwards, your dogs name, the dogs name spelled backwards, his girlfriend’s name, the girlfriend’s name spelled backward, his, mine, the dogs, his girlfriend’s birthday. You rolled your eyes ready to give up when you remembered, your brother is an idiot that forgets all of his passwords, you moved to the bedside table and looked for a notebook he could possibly have hidden there

You were right, there was a a notebook and, you opened it up, it has all his passwords, finding the one for the laptop you typed it out

NeoCultureTechnology

What the heck is that? You thought and pressed enter, his last opened app on it was photos, what could he have been looking at?

You blushed, it was pictures of you and his girlfriend, you smiled softly and sadly at the pictures he’s kept overtime, reminiscing every memory it holds, but there was one that made you freeze

It was a picture of your brother, he was smiling and you can tell he was happy, what concerned you was the man beside him, Lyeton, I mean it can’t be your Lyeton right? You looked at the other men you recognize them too, The blonde boy Lyeton was with when he gave you his name, he had black hair in the picture but it was definitely him, the last man was the blue haired boy, he had glasses and blonde hair here but it was him

It could just be a coincidence right? You looked through more pictures seeing other pictures of your brother with different men, with Lyeton, what is going on?

You opened a new folder of pictures and you saw more of Lyeton, youre head is starting to spin, you’re really confused till you stopped a t a photo of Lyeton that had his name “Lee Taeyong”

Youre breathing was getting heavy as you continued to get more and more confused. Lee Taeyong, that’s a different name, it’s not your Agi Lyeton right?

You froze, “Agi Lyeton, Lee Taeyong” You grabbed paper and wrote it down “A-g-i L-y-e-t-o-n” Your heart was picking up speed, growing up one thing your brother loved doing was make codes and riddles while you grew up cracking them, It can’t be an anagram, right? writing down every anagram you could think of to Agi Lyeton “ Elating Yo” No “Gelatin Yo” No “Ligate Yon” No “Legato Yin” No “Agent Oily” No “Ale Toying” No “Lea Toying, Leant Yogi, Aloe Tying, Teal Yogin” No, No, No “Li Taeyong” you frowned, right Lyeton’s name is two letters off

You took a breath, thankful, so you were just being dramatic “Ok, better get some fresh air Y/n or yo might loose it to Li Taeyong” you slid off the bed only to stop mid way, saying it out loud “Li, Li, Lee” You stared at your paper bfore slowly starting to write it out “L-e-e T-a-e-y-o-n-g” No, you refuse to believe that and threw the paper away.

Moving to shut the laptop off you saw the email icon on the laptop have one unread message and it came from none other than Taeyong, it made your blood boil

Hansol,

Are you sure you wanna join us on this mission? you have a little sister man. Think about her. You might not come back, I don’t want your family to suffer

Mail me back, ok?

-Taeyong

You have been absolutely Distant and of course Taeyong has noticed that, you would pull away whenever you get, you must’ve been upset to see your brother, he understands, but why are you being so cold to him?

He tried, different ways, to make you smile but you only seemed more distant and sadder. You’re midnight cuddles always ends with you sobbing softly and whenever he would ask why you wouldn’t answer

One evening, a week later, he was at your place, like usual, taking a shower happily humming to himself, he left his clothes here for times like this so he can change and stay the night here

You sat on the sofa, picking on your nails as you do, the sound of the TV being drowned into the background as you stared at your boyfriend’s phone a notif rang and you wanted to see the notif but its wrong right? He trusted you that’s why he left it. But he was lying. The voice points out and you reached forward to wake the screen being greeted with a message from Jaehyun

Hyung, the meeting is scheduled

10 am [address inserted]

Ive already informed everyone and the plan is set we just need you to show up

Good Luck

You swallowed, God please let this all be fake and me overexaggerating, you begged to no one in particular ‘till you heard your bathroom door open

Taeyong walks in seeing you sitting on the sofa watching TV “you ok?”

You nod “Yeah”

The next day, he leans in “See you tonight for dinner?” You nodded and smiled a small tired smile, he leans in more to kiss you, you looked to the side making him kiss your cheek and he frowns “and then we talk? I need to know what’s wrong, ok?” You nod and watched him leave

You stared at the printed pictures of Lyeton, Taeyong, er whatever his name really is, I can talk to him tonight, I don’t need to worry about this

You looked at your phone to see the time nine forty-eight, you can ignore it right? just ignore

Hansol,

Are you sure you wanna join us on this mission? you have a little sister man. Think about her. You might not come back, I don’t want your family to suffer

Mail me back, ok?

-Taeyong

You blinked the tears away, you have to know, what happened to your brother, cause now you have a feeling it isn’t suicde

Going to the address you spot Taeyong, you take a deep shallow breath as you slowly walked up to him

He blinks once he sees you “Y/n?” he asks “What are you doing here?” he looks around and grabs your hand “Its dangerous here” he drags you to the side

“Please,” you begged and gripped his collars like a life line as tears pricked your eyes “Please tell me I’m making this up, that I’m delusional”

He hugged you despite the fear that was crawling through his veins, he knows this a dangerous place for you, but your stressed and you need him, work is important and getting this group on his side is important but all that flew out the window when he saw the tears at the corner of your eyes “What happened?” He asked voice soft and warm to help calm you

It worked. You felt better, his presence, his scent and his voice, you feel better. You wanted to lie, surely you weren’t willing to loose him in exchange if whatever knowledge you might gain. You’d rather be in the dark than loose him. Yet the nagging feeling at the back of your mind and the heaviness of your heart forces your mouth open and say “Please tell me you’re not Lee Taeyong” You begged “I cant- I refuse to believe it, I’m over thinking right? It’s just my imagination?”

He looks at you in shock. How did you know? Did somebody tell you? Did you figure it out on your own? He has to answer you, he needs to answer you, anything, you were begging him to lie, he is Lee Taeyong, lying shouldn’t be this hard. Not when your last thread of hope and the color drained from your face when you pulled away from him once he looks at you apologetically “Y/n-”

“Why?” you breathed wrapping your arms around your waist as you take a step a way “What-, When-” You closed your eyes and fresh tear fell your eyes “Why? Why would you lie?”

He looked at her “I’m sorry”

“Why!?”

He flinches and bows his head “I didn’t want you to be scared of me,” he licks his lips “I can’t loose you, I didn’t want to see you in a world like this”

You stared at him as he spoke, your head was spinning and you wanted to throw up, your fingers picking on your nails and he reaches out to hold your hand to stop you from hurting yourself only to get pushed away “I trusted you, I gave you everything. Everything!” you sobbed “Were you ever going to tell me?” He looks away and your blood boils, you moved to hit him across the chest “You fucking ass! No?! Were you planning to hide this from me forever?!”

He grabs your hands to stop you “Y/n that hurts-”

“Good! You’re an ass! you deserve it!” you cried and kept trying to hit him

“I’m so sorry” He whispers and hugs you only for you to cry more and attempt to pull away from him “I’m so sorry”

“Let me go!” You yelled and pushed him away again “let me go, justlet me go, please, just let go” you whispered and stopped moving “Let me go Taeyong”

He looks up to stop the tears and slowly pulled away “Please”

You shake your head, gathering every ounce of energy on your body to ask “was Hansol part of your group?”

Taeyong’s eyes widened “You’re Hansol’s sister?” He took a breath and took a step back “I-I didn’t know... What have I done- Y/n”

“Is he?” you asked and looked at him, Please say no, Please, Not my brother too, Please, Please, Please, Please

“I’m so sorry” He says again and just like that you felt your whole world shatter, your knees were weak and heavy when Taeyong tensed “Y/n you have to leave”

“What-” You asked but you felt his hands holding yours tightly

“Please, I’ll tell you when I’m finished here, but it isn’t safe with you here. You can still blend in with other people”

“No, I’m not yet done-”

“Y/n, I’ll tell you everything and anything you want but you need to go home-”

“No, you’re not making me leave! I have the right to ask you this, you lied, my brother lied! I want answe-”

Taeyong never saw it coming, he hated himself cause of it. A sniper from across the building aiming to hit, to kill Lee Taeyong did a fucking sloppy job, cause it did nothing but graze Lee Taeyong by the waist, making him hiss and turn to see where it came from, he held his hand on his waist

His men came out from where they were hiding to cover their leader, protecting him from any possible gunshots “Suspect is on the move,” Jeno calls and runs ahead “Yuta hyung, Winwin Hyung” he calls the men nearer to him and they run in pursuit, Taeyong spat orders to his men, making sure that all of them understand only to freeze when he hears a small ragged and desperate breath

“Lyeton?” You call desperately, tears pricking your eyes, the pain was unbearable, your hand pressed against your stomach right under you left rib, desperately trying to stop the bleeding

Taeyong kneels in front of your body, as he places pressure on your wound “Fuck” he exclaims and takes off his belt to help him in applying pressure, you’re vision started blurring but you were unsure if it was the tears or the pain “Y/n,” he breathed and tightened the belt “ hold on, ok? You’ll be ok, I promise you’ll be ok”

You clenched your teeth, your breathing ragged ad heavy as he glares at his men “What are you all staring at? get them help! If they die, you’ll pay with your life”, you choked out a sob both at the fear of dying and the fear at Taeyong’s words, he shushes you and cups your cheeks

“Deep breaths with me my love,” he assures and smiles a pained yet hopeful smile “Please? Take deep breaths with me?” he took slow deep breaths and you tried to follow along only to cry out more, it hurts everything hurts. You wanted it to end, you wanted to finally close your eyes and take a short nap, but Taeyong begged once he notices your droopy heavy eye lids

“No, No, please, don’t close your eyes, don’t ok? keep them open, listen to my voice, I’ll tell you stories, I’ll tell you what happened to Hansol” He says and ushers you awake, you tried to fight the drowsiness and listen, you really did, “Like that, keep them open and deep breaths ok” You only cried more once you felt the pain and he cries along with you, begging “Please don’t leave me.” He starts and holds your hand “I’ll do anything. I’ll stop. I’ll quit but please just stay. Please, I have to make this right” he pleaded “Please! I’ll quit NCT I’ll stay with you, just stay with me. Y/n, Y/n!”

You breathing was becoming shorter by the minute and the only one left was you, Taeyong and two of his men who looked away as tears pricked their eyes. You were mad at Taeyong, but what was the point, he’s here now and he’s crying and pleading for you to fight, but you were tired and you couldn;t even think straight. You wanted the pain to stop.

Taeyong watched in horror as your short breaths ceased and he hold on to you tighter “Y/n?! Y/n No! No! Don’t leave me Please! Wake Up, Don’t Give in!” He moves to cup your cheeks to kiss your lifeless lips as a way to rouse you from your sleep like normal days when he’d wake you from your sleep and he finally broke down “I love you” He said in-between breaths “I love you so much, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry”

“Hyung, Jeno said they got the sniper” Mark whispers

“Everyone else has the gang under custody” Kun adds aswell

“We have to go” Mark says

“I’m not leaving them here”

“You have to Tae,” Kun says softly “You know we do”

62 notes · View notes

swan--writes · 5 years ago

Note

for the dewey finn song prompt, "Let's Start a Band" by Perma? (fem reader pls) We appreciate you have a lovely day ~🎶

I appreciate you back! Thank you guys for sticking around while I wasn’t writing, I’m truly thankful for y’all. I can’t promise that I’m totally back on track now, but I’m definitely gonna try to post more 💜

Words: ~990

When Dewey heard music through the doors of Ground Central, he figured it was his kind of café. The snow had just picked up and he knew there was no way he’d be able to make it back to Ned’s with his guitar unless he took a breather. It was only when he got inside that he realized what type of music it was, but by then it was too late. He had seen you singing and – more importantly – you had seen him. The moment he met your soft eyes, he was a goner.

When I saw her sing, I latched onto her talent like a love-lorn leech…

Your eyes skated past his and moved back to where they had been fixed before he walked in. Though you could feel his gaze on you, you couldn’t spare much attention for the man who had just walked into the café. You had only written this song the week before, and you had needed to change the melody a bit to work without your piano.

When one of the baristas passed by the man by the door, he whispered something and barely looked at the barista when she nodded. Moments later, he was replacing you at the head of the room. He was a boyish sort of handsome, and you took a seat on the couch at the side of the room facing the door and watched him with interest.

…and hoped that she would notice me with my three chords and day job at the music store…

He was a better player than singer, though not by much. His form was a tad ambitious, but you would be the first to admit you knew nothing about guitars. The thing that stood out the most about him was the way that his gaze kept flitting back to you.

…and smoke-soaked brain, a hobo on a speeding train.

It wasn’t until a week later that you saw him again. It was early February and you almost didn’t notice the flyer in the blinding winter sun. But there it was, at the bottom of the café door. At the top was a black and white photo of Boyish Man holding a guitar and making a rock-on sign at the camera. You chuckled and squinted at the tear-away strips. There, in tiny lettering: ‘Girl from Ground Central, let’s start a band.’

You blinked once, twice. You frowned. None of the strips were taken, but you weren’t sure you believed it was for you. Still, you took one of the strips and dialed the number, stepping into the café and slumping into your usual spot on the couch.

I'm feeling shy.

“Hello?” a raspy voice answered. Your frown deepened – it was late noon on a Tuesday. Why did this guy sound like he’d been sleeping?

I can barely meet your eye.

“Hi, are you Dewey?”

“Yah, who’s askin’?”

“Um…” You felt your face heating up with what you were about to say, but you pressed on. “I think I’m the girl from Ground Central? The one who was singing when you walked in, right?” You heard some muffled shuffling in the background.

“Oh! Hey!”

“Hey.” You bit your lip.

“Listen, you have a beautiful voice.” You felt your flush deepened, and the questioning glance from your favorite barista only confirmed how flustered you were. You gave her a helpless look.

“Um, thank you.” Your voice shrugged, but Dewey seemed undeterred.

“So, you wanna make some music?”

Let's start the show…

“I--what?”

“You’re at the café, right?” More background shuffling, and the sound of a zipper. A long one, probably a coat.

“Um, yes, but–”

“Don’t go anywhere, I’m on my way.” A door opening and closing, then the click of the call ending. You lowered your phone from your ear and stared at it.

Grab the mic and go, let's go.

Not twenty minutes later, Dewey was sitting beside you. He smelled a bit like stale beer and a lot like cigarette smoke and you had to fight the urge to bat his hands away from his hair and tell him that smoking wouldn’t help his vocals.

“Anyway, I’ve been working there for a few years, uh…but it’s just temporary! Despite how it sounds,” he faltered, “I’m actually a musician which I guess you saw already, and I’m looking for a band. I had a band but, well, now I don’t. Actually, I’ve been writing some music since I saw you perform.” Dewey pulled out his phone and you watched him navigate to his notes app. “Oh, do you have a name, by the way? Well, obviously you do, but–”

You cut him off with your name, and he repeated it twice under his breath.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Something in the way you said it made him blush.

“Sorry,” Dewey said, scratching at his ear sheepishly. “I ramble when I’m nervous, and you make me nervous.”

“How come?” you asked.

“Well, you’re--” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “You know?”

For the second time that afternoon, you felt heat rise to your cheeks. All you could manage was a quiet “Oh.”

Let’s start a band, let’s start a band.

“Anyway, you seem like a Cure kinda girl, right?”

You shook your head. “Journey.”

Come on, come on, come on now.

Half of Dewey’s mouth pulled up in a tight smile. “Touché.” He showed you a note on his phone. “Think you can make a tune with this?”

Let’s start a band, let’s start a band.

Without asking, you took the phone from him and studied the words on the screen. You had never done this with someone else’s lyrics, but it seemed doable. “Maybe.”

Come on, come on, come on now.

“Cool. I’ll send this to you, we can rehearse on Friday. Sound good?”

Let’s start a band, let’s start a band.

There was no reason for you to say yes. This dude had spent taken up ten minutes of your life with pointless chatter before he had even bothered to learn your name. He didn’t seem to like your music, he worked a dead-end job, and he had no band

Come on, come on, come on now.

Then again, he had put up a flyer for you. And he was kind of cute, in a basement-dweller sort of way.

Let’s start a band, let’s start a band.

“Sure,” you sighed. Dewey smiled at you then, a real, proper smile. His soft brown eyes lit up and for a brief moment, you forgot how to breathe. This was the right choice wasn’t it?

Goddamn it.

Come on, come on, come on now.

Tags List: @skiddyyo @paxenera @a-okay-rj @the-geeky-lady @darkblueeyedperson @hannah-de-lioncourt @ironmansuucks @missihart23 @fairybugsss @heknowshisherbs

If you would like to get on the tags list, message me.

41 notes · View notes

ask-the-riders · 4 years ago

Text

Retribution's first kiss

Because the way the whole thing is described makes it sound a bit more suggestive than intended, ima put it under a cut, just to be safe

It's meant to be innocent though, I swear. It only started to toe the thin line between ok and questionable because Retribution suddenly decided to be brave XP its his fault, everybody blame him

"Are you serious? Come on, Ret. Don't tell me you're a grown man who hasn't kissed anyone yet."

Retribution's cheekbones gained a faint cyan tint and he frowned, scowling at the other rider, "Shut your mouth, Pestilence. What I have and haven't done should be none of your concern." Pestilence arched a single brow bone, "You're right, it's not. I'm just... worried about you, y'know." Retribution's brow bones became knit in confusion, to which Pestilence smirked, "It's not normal for a guy your age to be going on about his life, without having his first kiss."

Retribution's cyan blush visibly darkened and he grumbled under his breath, turning his back to the other skeleton, "...Unless you plan to change the subject, I'm done speaking to you." The walking plague watched him for a moment and let out an exaggerated sigh, "Fine, fine. I'm just teasing, dude. I don't really care if you've kissed anyone or not. You're right. That's your business, not mine."

The shorter of the two remained silent and Pestilence rolled his eye lights, exiting the room. From his spot beside Retribution, Famine finally spoke up, his voice almost hesitant, "...You really haven't had your first kiss yet? For real?" The skeleton in question glanced up at his companion, his cheekbones burning a brilliant cyan now, "...No, I haven't," he waited a few seconds before continuing, his voice softer, "Is that bad? Should I really have done it by now? It's... It's rather pathetic, isn't it?"

Famine glanced down to see his friend, frowning and looking as though it was taking every ounce of his energy to keep himself together. He shook his head, lightly nudging the smaller man with his elbow, "Nah, don't worry about it. It's not bad, and it's definitely not pathetic. You'll do it when you're ready, ok? It'll be alright."

Retribution slowly shifted his attention upward, briefly meeting Famine's gaze, "But what if I'm ready now?... There's no one around that actually wants to kiss me, so there's nothing I can do about it." Famine hummed softly and shrugged, absentmindedly scratching the back of his skull, "I dunno, Ret. Ya gotta be willin' to talk to people and get to know them, in order for them to decide if they'd be ok with kissin' you or not. A stranger won't wanna do that for ya. Not a good kinda stranger, at least."

Making a face, Retribution shifted in his seat, "Yeah? Well we both know that's not going to happen. I'd rather die than trust a human, and you're aware of that." Famine nodded, "Yeah, I know. It doesn't have to be a human though. Maybe try to trust another monster. Hell, if you pick the right AUs, another Sans might even do it for ya." The cloak clad rider continued to frown, his tone holding a very clear tinge of uncertainty, "I don't know, Famine... I just don't know..."

Famine was silent, observing his companion for a moment. He then let out a deep sigh, his own cheekbones dusting a faint shade of blue, "...If it's really that big of a deal to ya, then I'll do it." Retribution's eye lights seemed to brighten as he stared up at the other rider, visibly surprised, "You'd do that, Famine?... Why though?" The taller skeleton monster arched a single brow bone again and tilted his head, "Because I'm your friend? Maybe I just wanna help ya sometimes, is all."

Retribution hesitated, his blush darkening further as he began to nervously fidget, picking at his cloak, "O-Ok... Thank you... I appreciate that a lot. Really." Famine offered him a lazy grin, appearing completely at ease, "Yeah, no problem. Now before we do this, for the sake of clarification so I know exactly what you want; do you want a quick peck, one that lingers a few seconds, or one with tongue?"

The shorter skeleton's sockets seemed to widen slightly as his embarrassment began to increase, "I... I uh... C-Could we maybe do one that lingers, and see where it goes from there? If it ends up involving tongue, I guess that's alright... Just this once though, got it?" Famine snorted in amusement, still grinning as he replied, "Yeah, I gotcha. That sounds doable enough. Once you're comfortable with the lingerin' one, then gimme some sorta signal if you wanna push it any farther. Like... touch my face or shoulder or somethin', and I'll know." Retribution nodded, sheepishly looking away from him, "Alright, I will."

Famine made a soft sound of acknowledgement, smiling slightly again, "Cool, cool... Now, I'll need ya to relax and close your eyes. If you wanna stop at any point, we can, you just have to tell me." Nodding again, Retribution fidgeted and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths in an effort to calm his nerves.

The taller rider watched him in silence, shifting in his seat to face him. Leaning forward, he grasped the back of the couch with one hand, using the other hand to delicately catch Retribution's chin. Making sure the smaller of the two stayed as relaxed as possible, he waited a few seconds before closing the distance between them, letting his own eyes drift shut. As his teeth gently pressed against those of the other skeleton, Famine felt him flinch, and he stopped moving, staying still.

Time seemed to freeze as Retribution attempted to adjust, and then with the aid of fleeting courage, he slowly lifted a hand, beginning to tremble the smallest bit as he placed it on Famine's face. Quickly picking up on the signal he was given, he began to deepen the kiss, going slow and allowing Retribution to mimic his motions, learning them surprisingly fast.

Famine very gently coaxed the other rider's teeth apart with the sapphire ecto tongue he'd conjured, and as it slipped into his mouth, he was surprised to find that Retribution had, at some point, conjured a tongue as well. He continued to go slow, at first delicately touching his tongue to that of his companions, and very gradually, the exchange picked up it's speed and intensity, their tongues tangling and dancing to some unheard tune.

Retribution slipped his still shaky hand from Famine's face to his shoulder, delicately pushing. Once again quick to pick up the hint he was given, the taller of the two slowly pulled away from the kiss, his cheekbones now dusted a bright shade of blue as he sighed softly and opened his eyes. Retribution cracked an eye open, and upon seeing Famine looking down at him, his entire face became a vibrant cyan, almost bright enough to glow.

Without a word, the shorter rider hid inside his cloak and hugged his knees to his chest, trying desperately to get his bearings. Unable to help but smile again, Famine chuckled, lightly patting the top of his skull through his cloak and sighing, "I gotta go start preppin' dinner, so you get a little bit of time to cool down now. If ya need anythin', ya know where to find me."

Retribution nodded, his voice barely audible, "Ok... thank you, Famine. Really. For helping me with my first kiss, for everything." Famine's expression softened and he hummed, "Of course. You're my buddy, of course I'd help ya."

#writing #undertale #undertale au #four horsemen of the apocalypse #pestilence.exe #famine.exe #retribution.exe #bbys first smooch *3*#who knew fam was good at this sort of thing #uhhhhh #lets see #they're frenching #that's what this is #:v

7 notes · View notes

jjba-hell · 5 years ago

Text

Black Velvet

Last day of prompts and I had no choice but to act a certain way.... So this is a somewhat yet another continuation of Take of Epitheus but it’s not as juicy. My fellow fic writers know that you usually get an idea and run with it which is exactly what happened here.

Some triggers: suggestive content, some self-loathing, mention of drug use and nicotine use and no proof-reading (we die like men, today) and that’s about it

Okay I swear this is the last one for a hot minute so: @lasquadraweek2020 @risottoneroo @giogio-gucci-gangstar

2K words and Reader is GN, Good Luck

You sat back in the bay window as you watched the water run down the window in streaks. The bottom window was open for you to hold your lit cigarette out and away from the kitchen behind you. The weather seemed to fit your mood perfectly- after everything you’d been through, everything you’d done- now you had no one to blame for your current situation other than yourself and the new level of self-loathing was taking a toll on your mental health.

Giorno Giovanna, despite his young age, held a cunning manner of getting what he wanted and luring you in with an innocent enough promise of freedom under a singular, seemingly doable, condition was how you ended up with a packed suitcase standing in front of your bedroom door.

What you had seen when your stand held onto Giorno’s soul was enough to warn you that you had sealed your own fate in the mafia. His father was someone...or rather, something... you’d thought belonged in the flights of fancy of Victorian era romance novels. His bloodline was as muddled and convoluted- his true identity of his father being hazy and unsure but you gave him direction into possible siblings and family he could have.

You believed that you did more than your fair share in finding the Speedwagon Foundation and Erina Pembleton’s descendants- how it connected with the name Jonathan Joestar.

But it wasn’t enough.

What’s worse, you had gotten what you wanted. Your team was healed and allowed to do as they pleased and had indeed disappeared from the mafia’a control- instead being used as nothing more than a tool to the Don and his team to get what he wanted.

You groaned, pinching the bridge between your eyes. Were you really being bossed around by a kid at this age?

The steady sound of a motor running outside your window among the near-silent street suddenly caught your attention.

If it was a car, it wasn’t big- in fact you wagered it was probably a motorcycle but why it was standing so close to the house you were close at, you were unsure.

You ditched the cigarette and stood up, slipping the revolver from your kitchen cabinet into your hand, double checking the bullets in the chamber before clicking it back into place and heading down the stairs to the front door.

Ever since you started helping Giorno you’ve had a myriad of people from rival gangs as well as some government-looking officials on your behind and as much as you hated the position you were in, the last thing you wanted to do was traverse more bullshit from anymore organizations.

Your door was locked but a bit too easy to pick. When the scratched in the door started you knew being on your guard was the right course of action. So you stepped closer to the wall and pulled back the hammer from the barrel.

Eventually the door clicked open and coming to stare at the end of your gun was a face you didn’t think you’d see again.

“Melone?” You frowned, not lowering the weapon.

You had heard through the grapevine that your old team had all retired and gone under the radar- so seeing Melone standing in front of you made your heart drop to your shoes. And yet...it felt so good to see a familiar face. You dropped your raised weapon to your side with a frown. “What are you doing here?”

The signature lustful smug slithered onto his face. “Am I not allowed to miss the most attractive person from my old team?”

You were about to roll your eyes but the comment only made you give a chuckle. “Oh please- I think Risotto takes that title a bit better than me.”

“Mmmm he is, but to me it’s like choosing pizza or cake.”

“Both good but for different occasions?” You sighed as you pushed the door shut behind him and grabbed a towel from the guest bathroom nearby.

“Exactly.”

You would usually not have stood for this bullshit, Melone’s lecherous comments wasn’t something you enjoyed but it felt good to see a familiar face until you led him to upstairs to towel off.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, knowing damn well he probably used BabyFace to track you.

His gaze was fixated on the suitcase outside your bedroom door.

“You’re leaving?”

You could only groan in response, stomping off back to the bay window.

“Y/n, I thought you were still working with the Don.”

“I am, they’re the reason I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

You gazed over at him as he approached.

“You know I can’t disclose that.”

He slid beside you on the seat as you lit your second cigarette- watching you as you angrily tossed the lighter across the floor. For a moment he let you sit there in silence, letting the itch to talk to him overwhelm you.

It did and with a frustrated puff of smoke you ran a hand through your hair. “I fucked up, Mel. I fucked up bad and there’s no one to blame except me.”

He didn’t respond- he was probably trying to get you to talk a bit more.

“I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that I’m still stuck in this crap or that-“ you let out a hysterical laugh. “That I’m being pushed around by a kid almost 10 years younger than me.”

You wanted to pull your hair out and scream, raking your nails over your scalp and pulling the hair as you gazed down at you bend knee.

Melone’s hand wrapped around the wrist beside your head and gently pulled out. Your eyes shot up and for once in his life he seemed more somber than usual. “Y/n, relax.”

“You’re clean.” You realized out loud.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I’ve kinda been cut off when I left the mafia so you’re welcome to use my real name.”

“Who knows you’re here?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Stefan.” You were the one to grab hold of his wrist this time. “I’m not having you risk your freedom for some drugs.”

He gave a huff of laughter, his hand loosening from your wrist. “I know you don’t touch the mafia’s drug trade. I’m not here for drugs.”

For a moment you were just confused. Was he really here for you? You couldn’t believe it, not with his track record.

“So why...?”

He lounged back in his seat. “Is it so hard to believe I wanted to check up on my teammate?”

“You care?”

He seemed be taken aback for a moment, his gaze going down. “I know you think I was just half high all the time but I did appreciate you treating me with some dignity. Which is something I can’t say I experienced from the all of our old team. It wasn’t the drugs talking when I insisted you coming on missions with me.”

You sat there, kind of dumbfounded by it all. Melone off of drugs was definitely something you weren’t accustomed to- it seemed like his first thing in the mornings was to pop an ecstasy pill or two so to see him in front of you like this caught you off guard.

He cleared his throat and stood up, moving to the stacked wine rack.

“You’ve definitely not been here long, the wine rack is untouched.” He joked over his shoulder.

You got up and followed him as he was surveying the bottles. It was probably cruel of you to do what you did, you knew the only reason you were feeling anything for him, wanting to do anything with him was because you felt so alone and him coming to you, telling you he was still here, still cared about you...

You placed a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Stefan, I like you too.”

His eyes widened for a moment and for a split second you thought you had misread the signals but what came out of his mouth was what you knew you wanted.

“You don’t have to like me.”

He put the wine bottle back into the rack, your hands finding his wrists to hold in front of your chest.

“No, you don’t understand. I do like you. And...I’m sorry I just...” you gazed up at his odd colored eyes- seeing another part of him you’d never seen. Was it vulnerability? You suppose it was selfish but you wanted to find more, explore more, be surprised by this new side of him. “...really want to kiss you.”

His eyes lidded as he leaned down slightly to bring your noses together, face to face.

“Just say when you want to stop.”

You let out a sigh as you pressed yourself into him, lips meeting into an intense kiss.

You never did say stop. Not when you were peeling his wet clothes off of him, not when you were pushing each other into walls, not when you both dropped onto the bed and found bliss in each other’s bodies. Not even when you were holding each other, pressed into each other’s warmth under the sheets like you were each other’s lifeline. You swept away a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, pressing your hand against the side of his face.

He smiled so warmly at you, so beautifully that you had to return it but your forced smile soon turned into tears spilling over your face.

He brought his hands to your face and wiped away the tears from your eyes.

“I wish I could help.” He whispered.

All you could do was weep into his shoulder. You had said your pained goodbyes at the front door. Only when you walked back did you notice he had left a piece of paper with his number scribbled at your landline. It only made your heart ache so much worse.

That night you stood in the house with the lights off and your suitcase fully packed.

“Why don’t you fight back?” An echoing voice called from the living room couch. You’d recognized it as your own voice so you turned around and faced your stand sitting on the arm rest of the coach.

“Why do you exist if I don’t have a will to fight back?”

They scoffed, turning their head to the side to look down the only lit hallway. “I exist to keep you alive, that was the fighting spirit you had.”

You scowled at them, narrowing your eyes. “I’ve grown out of the ‘save the world’ mentality I had when I was a kid.”

“Have you? Didn’t you say you felt like you had more to give the world.”

You stomped closer to your stand who seemed as unbothered by your presence as you were by other people.

“I’m starting to think what I had in mind and what that actually means are two VERY different things.”

They only shrugged, “Perhaps you need to start reconsidering how you’ll be contributing.”

You hated having your stupid stand bring up the parts of you you didn’t want to talk about. It was of course true you just didn’t want to deal with it anymore.

So you picked up the number Melone had given you on a piece of paper at the landline and turned it around in your hand. You wanted to see him, you wanted to see your team so bad yet it only dawned on you then the reason why.

They’d become your family. Prosciutto had said that it was because you were so used to being the only ones watching each other’s backs that it became habit but you suppose when you’re staring your death in the face it hurts too much to call each other family.

You pocketed the number in the jacket you’d be flying in tomorrow. It wasn’t a goodbye. That much you were determined to prove- even if it was for yourself.

You left for Florida the next day- looking for the oldest Joestar descendant your research could find. Jotaro Kujo.

#lasquadraweek2020 #la sqaudra #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo part 5 #jojo golden wind #melone #melone x reader

9 notes · View notes

solasan · 5 years ago

Text

inside me like my pulse

tommy miller/oc (jenny foster even tho she isnt explicitly named in this) warnings for some mention of gore / wound treatment but nothing explicit 1.5k

Summer, 2031

It was supposed to be just a routine check.

They’ve been lookin’ into gettin’ the dam to work for the last couple months — since Old James came to Jackson, really, ‘cause turns out he was a dam engineer before the outbreak — and doin’ back-and-forth trips to it every few days, just to check it out. Old James thinks it’s doable, and, yeah, Tommy’s got his reservations, but hey, if it works—

Well, anyway. They got halfway to the damned dam and bandits fell on ‘em from all sides, and Tommy got in more than a few good shots at ‘em but they still managed to knock him off’a Lucy with a shot to the side, and he’s good, seriously, but Young James and Maria and the rest ain’t lettin’ him off that easy, so.

“I can walk, y’know,” he grumbles as he’s dragged to the clinic, one arm slung over Young James’ shoulders and the other pressed tight to the wound above his hip.

Eugene snorts, arm tightenin’ ‘round Tommy’s waist. “Right, sure, and — crap, you’re heavy — and I’m the Queen of fucking Sheba.”

“If I’m so heavy, put me down.”

“If you’re so heavy, cut down on the carbs, old man,” Eugene snarks right back, and then they’re through the clinic’s door.

“Oh, for—” the doctor swears, wipin’ her hands dry on a towel and pointin’ to the bed her and Maria dragged in from one of the houses a couple days after she arrived. “Get him on the bed, now.”

“Hear that, Tommy?” Eugene grunts, him and Young James shufflin’ Tommy between them and settlin’ him where instructed. “Pretty lady wants you on the bed. You probably haven’t heard that in a while.”

Young James snorts, but the doctor — Julia? Jenna? — slams shut the door of the cabinet she’s riflin’ through hard. “I ain’t takin’ that kinda talk in my clinic, Linden. So go on, get.”

“Ma’am, he didn’t mean any disrespect—” Young James starts, always the peacemaker, but the doctor ain’t havin’ none of it.

“Don’t make me kick your ass out too, kid.” She levels a hard look at Eugene as she draws closer, pullin’ a chair up next to the bed so she’s level with Tommy. “Y’heard me.”

Eugene shoots a look Tommy’s way — can you believe this shit? — but raises his hands in palms-up appeasement. “Yes ma’am. James, you let me know how this idiot is when she’s done, alright?”

Young James — who really is young, can’t be more than twenty — nods solemnly, lingerin’ at Tommy’s other side like a mother hen.

And then Eugene’s gone, and the doctor’s lookin’ Tommy over with barely-concealed irritation. “What’ve you gone and done now, Tommy Miller?”

And shit, how’s she know his name and he ain’t know hers? He’s boutta ask, too, except then his side twinges painfully, a feelin’ like nails on a chalkboard, and he groans, curlin’ in on himself.

“He got shot, ma’am,” Young James reports helpfully, wringin’ his hands. “In— in the belly.”

The doctor scowls. “Shit. Bandits again?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She huffs, leanin’ back in her chair to reach for a pair of scissors. They ain’t surgical scissors, neither; they’re clunky, with a bright blue plastic handle, like classroom scissors — but bigger, sharper. Kitchen scissors, maybe?

“Hope you ain’t too fond of this shirt, Miller,” the doctor remarks, pushin’ on his shoulder to ease him out of his position ‘till he’s lyin’ flat and his hand’s fallin’ away from his side, and he grumbles.

“I’m passin’ly fond of it, actuall— hey!”

She starts snippin’ away at the cotton near the hem, complainin’ under her breath about the blunt blades for a couple seconds before they finally catch and slice on through, and then she’s throwin’ the scissors on the table behind her and rippin’ it the rest of the way.

“Yeah, well, too bad. Maybe next time, don’t get shot. Or wear a shirt you don’t like, if you’re gonna.”

He’d thought it hurt before, but the shirt peelin’ away from the bloody wreck above his hip is a whole other realm of agony, and he cries out, swearin’ and tightenin’ his fingers on the edges of the bed. It’s only when the fabric falls open completely that he can grit out, “could’a warned me first, Doc.”

The doctor snorts. “It’s a gunshot wound, Miller. It’s gonna hurt.” Then, to Young James: “You, get over here, help me turn him over.”

“Turn— you ain’t gotta turn me over, I’m fine!” Then, to punctuate his point, he struggles to his feet, keepin’ his swayin’ to a minimum once he’s up. “See?”

“God, I wish I got paid for this shit,” the doctor mumbles, straightenin’ to grab his shoulders — both of ‘em, this time — and shove his ass back down onto the bed. “You sit down and you stay there, Tommy Miller, or I swear t’God, a bullet in ya side’s gonna be the least’a your problems.”

He blinks up at her. She’s a pretty little thing, he realises; cheeks flushed from the heat, or maybe from him pissin’ her off, her eyes bluer than a sweet, clear Texas night, hair dark and chopped close to her jaw.

Formidable, too. His shoulders are gonna bruise.

Huh.

Once she’s happy he ain’t goin’ anywhere, she nods, then scoots her chair back so she can take a look at his back. It takes a minute or so, but eventually, she sighs. “No exit-wound. Just what I wanted to see when I woke up this mornin’.”

“Ain’t you doctors s’posed to be taught about bedside manner?” Tommy grumbles under his breath.

The doctor — what is her goddamned name? — gives him a witherin’ look, before pushin’ him so he’s lyin’ down again. “Ain’t you patients supposed to listen to your doctors?”

Tommy pulls a face, watchin’ her fine, small hands pull first one latex glove and then the other on.

“You, uh— James, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” Young James confirms, clearin’ his throat and pullin’ himself tall.

“James. I got a bottle’a whiskey in that cabinet, just behind you. Can you grab it for me?”

“Where in the hell’d you get whiskey?” Tommy wonders aloud, watchin’ Young James follow her instructions like a well-trained little puppy.

She sighs. “Charlottesville.”

“Char— why Charlottesville?”

“It was there. Thanks, kid,” she says this last to Young James, who’s retrieved the whiskey and passed it to her.

“You’re welcome,” he says, clearin’ his throat again, ears lookin’ a bit pink.

Well, shit. Tommy doesn’t know whether to laugh or roll his eyes.

Only he don’t have time to do neither, ‘cause the doc’s uncappin’ the bottle and shufflin’ closer. “Now, this is gonna hurt.”

“Wh— c’mon, don’t I at least get a sip first? Anaesthetic, that kinda thing?”

She sighs again, lookin’ half like she wants to clock him in the jaw, before passin’ it over. It burns on the way down, behind his teeth and all the way to his belly, but it’s a good kinda burn. Better than the one in his fuckin’ side, at least, Jesus.

The whiskey makes a sloshin’ sound against the glass when he passes it back to her, and that’s the last thing he thinks for several seconds, ‘cause then she pours it over his wound and shit does that hurt.

“Motherfucker,” he wheezes once the world sharpens again, hands fistin’ in his jeans, back archin’ like he’d been kicked in the goddamn gut. “I’m— I’m gonna throw up.”

“James, get a bucket.”

“Can do, ma’am.”

“Alright,” the doctor sighs, combin’ one gloved hand over his hairline. He focuses on the feelin’ of her fingers against his scalp, breathin’ steadily through his nose like some lightweight teenager boutta hurl. “Easy. Worst part’s over.”

“W— worst part?” Tommy laughs throatily, pressin’ the back of his hand to his mouth to try and stop the bile he can feel swirlin’ in his belly from spewin’ right into her pretty face. “Yeah, you ain’t kiddin’.”

“Betcha regret the whiskey now, huh?”

Tommy groans.

Young James must’ve found one of the horse-feed buckets outside, ‘cause when he comes back, his footsteps are joined by the clang of metal against tile. “You doing okay, boss?”

Tommy waves his hand vaguely in the air. “Right as rain, Jim.”

Young James wrinkles his nose. “I asked you not to call me that.”

“We ain’t done yet, y’know,” the doctor interrupts, and when Tommy looks at her, she’s slidin’ some thread through a needle.

“Wh— wait, ain’t you gonna take the bullet out?”

She sighs, bitin’ her lip as she casts those bright eyes over Tommy’s whole form. “You ain’t pale, and you’re bitchin’ enough you’re clearly alert, so I don’t think you’re bleedin’ too much inside. Don’t wanna go diggin’ and fuck somethin’ up.”

After a sec, she hums, then leans in and presses two fingers to Tommy’s neck. He blinks up at her, then back to her pale wrist, which is all he can see of her hand at this angle. Her gloves are all rubbery and weird-feelin’ on his skin, but her fingertips are warm and firm, unyieldin’ against his skin.

“Nah,” she says eventually, and Tommy starts, meetin’ her eyes. “Your pulse ain’t weak. It’s strong, actually— you got a fast heart.”

Tommy clears his throat, meets Young James’ eyes. Yeah, tell me about it, he thinks, and then: aw, shit, I can’t even make fun of him now.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #this is NOT going in any tags hoo boy #anyway. we're here now. idk whats happening but we're here #me looking at these two idiots: haha ur gonna get MARRIED #my writing #ch: jenny foster #following the queuen

7 notes · View notes

bigtimetired · 5 years ago

Text

Softly, Softly

a one-shot in a wider (v unfinished i’m suffering help) au- nearly complete age-swap, set in the 90s for some godforsaken reason, this fic set not too long after damian moves in w bruce- i think that’s all that matters? just under 4k, mostly under the cut- anyway:

12th November 1990

Winter in Gotham is never easy.

It’s generally agreed that the going gets tough from the end of November to the start of February, and things are- not easy, never easy, but more doable- up until that point.

It’s early-ish November- the air is getting chilly, there’s frost on the ground in the mornings. It’s starting to get cold and sharp out, though at this point a person could get away with a regular jacket during the day.

It’s the easiest part of a Gotham winter.

Of course, Dick’s little brother doesn’t seem to have gotten this particular memo.

In retrospect, Dick blames himself for not noticing sooner and nipping it in the bud. The signs had been there for god knows how long; the quiet sniffles, late night rasps, sluggish reactions.

But anyway, the point is that Dick didn’t realise earlier, which is what has them where they are now; Jason bundled up in his hoodie and coat, Dick’s scarf and a hat they found lying around, shivering miserably, and Dick sacrificing his own jacket to act as a blanket.

Jason sniffs again and Dick winces- it sounds disconcertingly liquid.

“Don’t need all this,” Jason half-whispers, weakly waving his hand at his sickbed- his usual mattress, and a sofa cushion arranged in order to prop him up against the wall. It’s debatable how long he can actually sit up unassisted at this point.

Dick hums noncommittally and makes sure their meagre rations are within Jason’s reach- half a bottle of water, a squished bar of chocolate, and two tissues. This isn’t good. They need more.

Is Daly’s still open?

“’M serious,” Jason insists, and Dick nods.

“Whatever floats your ship.”

Jason blows out a heavy, congested, breath. “’s boat, Dickers.”

“Really? Why?”

Jason frowns for a moment, looking so concerned that Dick regrets asking.

“Dunno,” he admits eventually. “Prob’ly ‘cause it rhymes.”

Jason starts coughing then- a sharp noise which sounds like it’s being pulled out of him. The fit fades as quickly as it started- the ragged breathing and rosy cheeks do not.

Dick hands Jason the water bottle; helps him hold it steady when it becomes clear that his hands are still trembling too badly to do it himself.

When Jason’s breathing regularly again, Dick asks, “How’re you feeling?”, even though he already knows what his little brother will say.

Jason grins, pale green eyes blinking slowly. “On top of the world.”

Dick reaches out and tries to measure Jason’s temperature with his hand. Jason pulls the sort of face that only a ten-year-old can muster but stays put.

Dick frowns- Jason’s kinda clammy.

“Ew,” he says out loud, making a show of wiping his hand off on Jason’s sleeve. Internally he makes up his mind. I have to go.

Jason grins again and lets out a quiet noise which would ordinarily be a snort. “You’re ew.”

Dick settles down next to Jason’s mattress, even though he has no intention of staying put for too long.

“Go to sleep, Jay- you’re already nearly there.”

“Am not,” comes the weary reply.

“Uh-huh.”

“F’ck off, Dickolas.”

“Can’t- who else will wipe your nose for you?”

“Asshole,” smiles Jason, eyes already nearly closed. His expression changes then. “You’ll still be here when I wake up, right?”

Dick pauses- takes in the genuine worry wrinkling around Jason’s mouth, the uneven intakes of breath- and comes to the sudden, stomach-churning, realisation that Jason is too sick to be left alone.

It’s with a heavy heart that he abandons his plans to sneak out for a supply run.

“Duh. Now go to sleep, lil’ wing.”

Jason pulls another face, eyes closed now. “Gotta stop callin’ me that.”

“Nah.”

Jason tries to snort again and doesn’t say anything else. Dick keeps perfectly still for what feels like the longest time, watching Jason’s chest rise and fall.

His only reassurance is that, despite the audible wheeze of his lungs, Jason’s breaths are still perfectly regular.

Dick carefully pushes a slightly sweaty curl away from Jason’s face, trying not to focus on how Jason’s usually faint freckles seem a great deal more vivid at the moment.

He’ll be okay.

He has to be.

Jason wakes up around when the air in the attic is getting cool enough for Dick to have to start stretching in an attempt to stay awake; the cold has always made him sleepy.

Jason’s breath stutters, once, twice, and Dick’s head whips around, heart pounding.

Jason’s breath resumes a noticeable pattern, and Jason peers over at Dick.

“Hey,” Dick smiles, trying to project a calm and certainty that he doesn’t feel. “How’re you now?”

Jason swallows, licks his lips. “Hurts,” he whispers, and Dick’s smile drops instantly.

“What does? What hurts Jay?”

Jason shifts slightly, wincing. “Everything.”

With no small amount of dread, Dick lays his hand on Jason’s forehead again.

Jason is burning up.

Dick exhales, and makes Jason drink some water as he thinks.

“Okay,” he says quietly, more to himself than to Jason, “it’s all okay.”

It isn’t really. Dick is nowhere near as calm as he’d like to be- as he needs to be.

He doesn’t know what to do- Jason’s never been this sick before, and Dick isn’t sure what’s wrong; if Jason needs medicine or if he can sleep it off, if they should be seeing a doctor or if they can get by on their own.

It’s a lot for a twelve-year-old to deal with but deal with it he must. For Jason’s sake.

Jason’s had enough water- Dick takes the bottle from him before he accidentally drops it.

“Have some of this,” he says, grabbing the bar of chocolate.

“Not hungry,” says Jason quietly, just as he did the last time Dick offered it.

“I know, Jaybird, but you gotta eat if you want to get better,” Dick says, rubbing Jason’s shoulder carefully. He seems terribly small and breakable all of a sudden.

Jason still doesn’t seem all that convinced about the whole ‘eating’ thing. Dick decides to pull out the big guns.

“Please, Jay.”

Jason nods reluctantly and begins the incredibly long endeavour of eating a bar of chocolate with as little effort as possible.

He’s sneezed a good eight times by the time the wrapper is empty, but Jason looks marginally more awake now and Dick hopes that the pink tinge to his cheeks is a sign of health.

The water is almost gone, the tissues are used up and absolutely disgusting, and they’re completely out of anything the least bit edible.

Jason is still far too hot, still sweating, and now starting to shiver.

Shit.

Dick doesn’t know all that much about illnesses but he’s fairly sure that shivering like that when you’re not cold at all isn’t a good sign.

“Jay,” Dick tries his hardest to sound both soothing and supremely confident and not at all afraid, “Jay, we don’t have enough things here for you to get better. I’m gonna have to- “

Jason’s eyes widen, and he moves the quickest he has in nearly three days to grab Dick’s wrist in an iron-grip.

“No,” he hisses, “no, you promised you’d stay. You promised.”

“Jay,” says Dick softly, “I- “

“Please, Dick, please don’t go- I don’t wanna be alone- please- “

There are actual tears welling up in Jason’s eyes all of a sudden, and Dick’s heart twists horribly.

“Hey,” he says gently, “hey- I’m not gonna leave you alone, okay? I- uh- “

Dick swallows and then makes what many people might call a terrible decision.

“I’m gonna take you with me,” he says as if he had planned this all along, “we just gotta pop out to the store and back- get some more water, some tissues, all that fun stuff. Okay?”

Jason relaxes, though he doesn’t let go of Dick. “Okay,” he half-whispers. “Just- just don’t leave me.”

“I promise.”

Rather predictably, things are not going well.

Dick’s eyes are sore and gritty, and he can’t quite tell if his hands are shaking or not. He has Jason tucked under his arm in an attempt to keep him warm and stop him from tipping over- easier said than done on the ice-laced paths.

It’s dark out now, and the streetlights in this part of town are few and far between. Jason’s weighty breaths seem to echo in the mostly empty streets- they’re gonna start attracting attention soon.

“Dick,” mumbles Jason all of a sudden, “we nearly there yet?”

No. No they are not. All the nearest stores are closed and they’re starting to get uncomfortably far from home.

“Uh-huh,” whispers Dick, “just another few minutes, okay?”

“’kay.”

Jason lets out a tremendous sniff then, and Dick rubs his arm absently.

It’s way colder than Dick thought it would be- every breath in is sharp, every breath out creates a thick plume of condensation.

Dick isn’t good with cold- his head hurts, his chest aches, and all he wants to do is go to sleep for a while. When it’s really, really, cold, his nose bleeds.

“’m tired.”

“Me too, lil’ wing. Nearly there.”

“Can we sit down? Just for a second?”

Jason sounds exhausted.

Dick glances around carefully- no unsavoury characters too close by, though they’d be better off stepping in out of view.

“Yeah- we’ll sit down just around the corner for a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

The two of them make their ungainly way around the corner- off the main street and into a more secluded area.

There’s a deep, surprisingly unoccupied, doorway here- Dick tucks his little brother into the corner in an attempt to block some of the cold out. He pulls off his jacket and gives it to Jason as a blanket.

Jason leans his head on Dick’s shoulder and lets out slow, heavy, breaths.

Dick looks up at the artificially clouded, orange-tinted sky and misses the stars for the umpteenth time.

Has Jason ever seen the stars?

Dick’s eyes are very, very, tired.

Don’t you dare fall asleep, Grayson.

There’s a song playing from a building nearby- words muffled, melody barely audible. A slow, soft, sad song.

Dick breathes in deep, lets it out slowly.

He watches his breath cloud and float up, up, up, until he can’t see it anymore.

“Dick?”, asks Jason drowsily.

“Yeah?”, Dick whispers back, still staring up at the sky.

“I don’t wanna get up.”

“Me neither, Jay. ‘nother minute?”

“Yeah.”

They’re quiet again, Dick knowing full well that they need to get up and keep moving but not quite able to do anything with that knowledge just yet.

Something begins to drift down through the orange-haze; Dick watches it distantly, rubs tiredly at his runny nose.

A feathery speck of snow falls softly to the ground before them.

Then another.

Shit.

It’s not dry enough for the snow to lodge, but that won’t make their unfinished journey any less miserable.

Then there’s a thump from above- too heavy and solid to be anything other than a person.

Then another thump, and another.

Double shit.

Damian is having a reasonably good evening, all things considered.

Is it colder than anyone would like? Yes, yes it is.

Did Kent call earlier like he said he would? No, no he did not.

But Damian isn’t letting any of that bother him- there’s crime to fight, justice to uphold, etcetera, etcetera.

Besides, he’s rather enjoying knocking the stuffing out of the would-be jewel thief before him.

Or at least, he would be, if the degenerate would ever show some consideration and stop running away.

Coward.

(Damian’s evening is, perhaps, not going as well as he is trying to convince himself it is.)

The thief clears the gap between two buildings with surprising ease, seeing as he has no grapple gun to support him.

Damian tails him still, grip tight on the non-lethal staff Father had insisted on.

They had argued about it (again) only earlier that evening, actually.

It’s understandable that Father would prefer that Drake abstain from lethal force- Drake hasn’t been trained in the art of death from birth, after all. Drake can barely be trusted to tell one end of a blade from the other.

But Damian is a master- the best of his generation, it had always been whispered. Damian can be trusted to kill quickly and efficiently- or slowly and painfully, as required.

Damian is more than capable of-

The thief swerves suddenly and Damian copies- but the rooftop is covered with a thin layer of treacherous frost and Damian perhaps hadn’t been paying quite as much attention to his surroundings as he should have been- what would Grandfather say?

Damian stumbles, temporarily drops to one knee, before regaining his balance.

It’s a tiny slip- a microscopic mistake in the grand scheme of things- but it’s enough.

America has made him soft.

The thief is further ahead than he should be- he hops down to the next building, and then down again into a dingy alleyway.

Damian continues his pursuit- trying his best to force down the little bubble of desperation- he must catch up in time- he can’t disappoint Father- he can’t.

Damian drops into the alleyway, head automatically snapping to the left to see the thief racing away. They’re on better terrain now- Damian can catch up. He can.

It’s then that he hears it; a quiet sniff.

Almost against his will, Damian turns his head away from the criminal’s retreating figure.

There are two people huddled together in the doorway next to him.

Two very small people watching him with wide, frightened, eyes.

Children- younger than Drake- tiny and alone and shaking with fear, cold, or both.

Instinctively, Damian reaches out to them and they flinch.

They’re afraid of him.

To the best of his knowledge, Damian has never frightened children before. The other children in the League might have been wary of him, but they were never afraid. Drake might have been uneasy when they first met, but soon irritation outweighed all other emotion.

But now one child is clearly trying to shield the other from him- as if Damian is likely to snap and rage.

As if Damian is likely to hurt them.

Something about this does not sit well with Damian- perhaps it’s the novelty of the situation, perhaps it’s the not-very-good day he’s been having, perhaps it’s Father’s philosophy winding around the recesses of his mind.

He remembers, very suddenly, that there are two parts to the Batman’s mission statement, though Damian does tend to only consider the first half.

To punish the guilty and protect the innocent.

Appearances can be deceptive, and youth is no indicator of nature, but Damian is pretty sure that it is the innocent who are staring up at him in mute terror.

He glances after the jewel thief- still visible at the mouth of the alley. If he ran now, he could probably catch up.

But there are two children alone in Gotham on a cold night who are absolutely terrified of him and seem rather lacking in the resources department.

Damian takes in how underdressed the older child is- his full-body shivers and bloody nose. The other child is bundled up and mostly hidden from view but from what little Damian can see, he doesn’t seem all that healthy.

It’s snowing.

Damian looks after the criminal- the guilty who must be punished- and comes to a decision.

He sheathes his staff, drops his shoulders, and looks down at the children, trying very hard to radiate non-threatening energy.

He isn’t sure if it’s working.

“What are you doing out here?”, Damian asks, trying to imitate the soft voice that Father sometimes uses when Damian is…uneasy.

The older child swipes at his nose, doesn’t seem to notice the blood left on his hand.

“Nothing,” he mumbles, still leaning away from Damian.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Damian counters, still trying to do the Voice. “It looks like you’re planning on staying there for a while, and not by choice either.”

The boy looks at him for a long moment, before admitting quietly, “Maybe.”

Damian mentally pats himself on the back for this minor victory.

Protect the innocent.

“Do you- “, Damian starts, but he is interrupted by the second child breaking his silence to let out an extremely unpleasant-sounding, wet, hacking, cough.

The first child turns away from Damian immediately to rub his brother’s back.

When the fit subsides about two minutes later, Damian catches the tiny whisper of “You okay, Jaybird?”, and the even tinier, breathless, “Yeah.”

“You need to see a doctor,” says Damian matter-of-factly.

“I know,” mutters the older boy, not looking at Damian.

“I know where to find a clinic with a fantastic doctor,” Damian offers, surprising himself with the realisation that he is willing to take these two all the way over to Dr Hopkins’ if necessary.

“We can’t- “, the boy starts, conflict clearly playing out on his face. Then his expressions hardens. “We don’t need your charity.”

Damian aches with the urge to point out that they very clearly need someone’s charity, but resists. That sort of barb rarely goes over well with Drake, never mind two virtual strangers.

He sighs. “I know you don’t.”

They’re in a stalemate then- Damian (for reasons which not even he entirely understands) unwilling to leave them as he found them, and neither of the two boys willing to accept his help.

Damian crouches down in a bid to make himself less intimidating, though both boys watch him cautiously. The older one tightens his grip on his brother.

“Do you know who I am?”, Damian asks quietly.

The children stare at him for a moment, eyes skittering all over his uniform and hopefully lingering on the bat symbol.

“You work with Batman,” whispers the smaller boy hoarsely.

Damian nods. “I do. And what does Batman do?”

“Fight crime?”, offers the sick child.

“And?”

The boy with the bloody nose sighs. “And help people who need it. Which we don’t,” he hastens to add.

Damian looks at them levelly and then repeats something that Pennyworth has told him quietly time after time, though Damian has never truly listened to the words until now.

“Everyone needs help sometimes, and everyone is allowed to get help.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, both children watching him with wide, considering, eyes.

“We can’t pay the doctor,” says the older boy, slouching.

“She won’t charge you.”

“You sure?”, whispers the sick one, squinting at Damian.

He nods, which seems to be enough for the sick boy.

“Le’ss go, Dick.”

The newly identified Dick looks at his brother again. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“I can think of plenty of reasons,” mutters Dick, before sighing. “Alright then, let’s go get our organs stolen.”

“She won’t take your organs,” reassures Damian.

“That’s what they all say.”

Dick stands up stiffly and rubs at his nose again. He notices the blood this time, but merely frowns at his hand in response.

“What happened?”, Damian asks, though Dick only shrugs before pulling on the coat previously wrapped around his little brother.

There’s a bit of difficulty then, as the younger boy very shakily stands up and nearly falls over, though Dick manages to save him and prop him upright under his arm.

Standing up now, it’s clear that the boys can’t be any older than about eleven and neither of them looks like he has regular meals.

“Lead ahead,” says Dick.

“Lead on,” corrects his brother tiredly. “’r go ahead.”

Dick shrugs again.

Damian starts walking, though he’s only made it a few feet before realising that the boys are still behind him and only slowly shuffling forward.

They both look exhausted, and whilst Dick may be in better shape than his brother, he’s still trembling ever so slightly and walking stiffly.

Damian tilts his head for a moment, considering.

Then he stands on Dick’s free side- he thinks he knows better than to go near Dick’s younger brother given the sharp look Dick keeps giving him- and props him under his arm.

“Let’s go then,” says Damian, pretending not to see the strange looks he is being given.

Neither boy says anything in response but the three of them begin to make their achingly slow way forward, ungainly as one might expect such a convoy to be.

Damian can feel how horrifyingly cold Dick is under his arm and doesn’t even want to consider how cold his brother probably is.

He twists his cape around with his free hand and drapes it around the other two’s shoulders without breaking stride.

“Thanks,” mumbles Dick.

His brother makes a hoarse noise that may or may not also be a thank you.

“You’re welcome,” says Damian uncomfortably.

People do not often thank him.

(Damian wonders, briefly, if the children would have been willing to trust him at all if he had been carrying a more deadly weapon and doesn’t like how the answer makes him feel.)

They continue to walk in silence.

It’s going to be a long night.

Many, many, hours later Damian is standing at his father’s side in the Batcave, as his father types away on the computer.

Drake is somewhere nearby, polishing something- Damian can hear his breathing.

Pennyworth is on Father’s other side, dutifully copying down a wall of text from a smaller screen- Damian can’t hear his breathing.

“The thief escaped,” Father says. It is and isn’t a question.

Damian nods, though adds, “I believe he will strike again in the financial district sometime in the next two weeks,” by way of a meagre apology.

“You last reported in from Leslie’s clinic.”

“Yes.”

There is a long pause, as Damian tries to compose his thoughts and Father waits- ever patient.

“I had to protect the innocent,” he says eventually.

Father stops his typing and Drake stops pretending to be doing whatever it is that he’s been doing.

“Oh?”, asks Father, the closest Damian has ever gotten to a ‘go on’ from him.

“There were two children,” says Damian, not looking at his Father. “They needed medical attention, amongst other things. I found them as I pursued the thief and- “

“And you chose to protect the innocent rather than punish the guilty,” Father finishes.

Damian nods. “I did.”

Father actually turns his head to look at him, which means that Damian’s gaze is drawn- magnetised- to his.

“I’m proud of you,” Father says, voice warm and soft.

There is a lump in Damian’s throat all of a sudden.

He nods and chokes out, “Thank you.”

They stay like that a moment, Father’s calm blue eyes on his own teary green.

And then Father says, “Jon Kent called whilst you were out.”

Damian finally looks away from his father. “Oh?”

“He wanted to ask you about your chemistry project.”

Damian clicks his tongue. “I told him I’d tell him tomorrow.”

“Best go to bed then- it’s been a long day.”

Damian nods again. “Goodnight Father. Goodnight Pennyworth.”

He pauses for a very long moment, before eventually adding, “Goodnight, Drake.”

Drake says from somewhere that may or may not be in the rafters, “Goodnight Damian,” and then Damian goes to bed.

Damian falls asleep and dreams of softly falling snow and orange-tinted skies and part of an old, slow, song.

Softly, softly turn the key And open up my heart.

#dc #batfam #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #family relationships #tw: blood #it's a nosebleed #one-shot #only tagged characters w real screentime sorry tim n alfred n ig bruce #dgs #sickfic #kinda #might go back n tweak this at some point maybe add more damian pov

7 notes · View notes

kawaiikichi · 5 years ago

Text

Kitchen Flirting (BKDK)

Hey, you guys! So, this is part one of a Domestic BKDK AU that I came up with during my time away from this blog. I wasn’t really in the best of moods and I even felt hopeless but writing this (and Bakudeku period) really saved me and cheered me up (because that’s what fluff oughta do after some angst). So, this was the result of that. It’s pretty fluffy and just them being cute, so yeah.

The inspiration behind this besides cheering myself up was that I started thinking about things and then my mind wandered to a scene of Katsuki teaching Izuku how to cut an onion and this came to be.

I hope you guys like it! :D

Title: Kitchen Flirting

Summary: Katsuki teaches Izuku how to cook. Things escalate from there.

One-Shot Notes: They all have their Quirks; Katsuki and Izuku are 22; they live together and have been living together for almost a year; Established BKDK (been dating for a few years)

One-shot is under the cut!

“Um...Kacchan? Can you please tell me why you have two aprons?” Izuku asked, staring at the two aprons that Katsuki held in his hands.

“What does it look like, Deku? I’m going to teach you how to fucking cook.” Katsuki stated.

“To cook?”

“Damn right. I don’t wanna have to come home to a burnt kitchen again.”

“Sorry, Kacchan...” Izuku trailed off, recalling when he tried cooking dinner for Katsuki a couple nights ago only to nearly burn their apartment down.

“Stop fucking apologizing, Deku. Now, bring your cute little butt over here so that I can get this apron on you.” Katsuki said, motioning for Izuku to come closer.

“But Kacchan, I can put it on myself—”

“If you don’t get here right this fucking minute, I’m going to tickle you until you beg for mercy.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll come over there...”

Izuku let out a sigh of defeat as he walked over to Katsuki, who had a smug look on his face as he put on his apron, which was black and had the words “100% Pure Daddy Material” on it in white block letters. Izuku stopped as Katsuki turned to look at him, that charming smirk still spread across his lips.

“Now, let’s get this apron on you.” he said.

Izuku could only stare as Katsuki made his way over to him with a white apron in his hand. He brought it over Izuku’s head and he began to fix it. His fingers would brush along the sides of Izuku’s neck, which made his skin tingle. Katsuki’s fingers lingered just above Izuku’s collarbone before withdrawing them and moving so that he was behind him. With deft fingers, he proceeded to tie the apron straps into a knot behind Izuku. Every once in a while, Katsuki’s fingers would dance along Izuku’s lower back, making his heart nearly leap out of his chest.

Kacchan is doing this on purpose, isn’t he? He has to be, Izuku thought to himself.

Katsuki pulled away and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

“So today, we’re going to be making a simple dish: curry.” Katsuki said.

“Curry, huh...” Izuku trailed off.

“This is such a simple recipe that even an amateur like you can follow it and it’ll come out well!” Katsuki declared.

“Well...” Izuku scratched the back of his head nervously. “I did burn instant ramen one time when I had Uraraka over at my old apartment...” he trailed off.

Katsuki stared at Izuku with an appalled look on his face.

“God fucking...” he released an exasperated sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Seriously? Instant ramen?” he asked.

“Yeah, I know, it’s totally embarrassing...” Izuku murmured.

Katsuki let his hand drop to his side.

“Bring your cute butt over here, Deku.” he said.

Izuku did as he was told and suddenly found himself in Katsuki’s arms. The scent of cinnamon and cologne enveloped him as Katsuki spoke.

“Don’t be embarrassed, okay, Deku? It’ll be fine. Why? Because I am fucking here. And I will make sure that this meal comes out excellent.” he said.

Izuku inhaled Katsuki’s scent before letting out a small giggle.

“Hm? What’s so funny, Deku?” Katsuki asked.

“You were mimicking All Might just now and I thought it was kinda funny...” Izuku trailed off.

Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed at this.

“I hear you say one more thing about All Might and it’ll be a full-on tickle fest from here on out.”

“O-Okay, okay, Kacchan! I won’t say it anymore, so please stop poking at my sides!”

🧡💚🧡💚

“Okay, now that we have the rice in the rice cooker, we should start chopping up some fucking vegetables. That sounds doable, right, Deku?” Katsuki asked.

“Yes, it does.” Izuku gave Katsuki a pout. “Kacchan, you don’t need to keep babying me like this...” he trailed off.

“Huh? I ain’t fucking babying you. I’m just keeping a goddamn eye on you.”

“That’s...kinda the same, though...”

“Huh? Did someone just ask for a tickle fest?”

“N-No! No, I did not!”

“Alright, then. Now, start working on that onion for me. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Alright, Kacchan...”

Izuku watched as Katsuki headed down the hallway. As soon as he heard the door close, he redirected his attention to the onion on the cutting board.

“Now, time to cut this onion...” he trailed off.

He grabbed for the knife and after cutting off the top and bottom ends of it, he peeled off the outer skin and then sliced the onion in half. Then, he stopped.

And now I don’t know what to do after this. I’ve tried to see how Kacchan does it, but his hands move so fast that it’s hard for me to follow...gosh, I should really start watching some cooking shows whenever I get the chance. Actually, I should’ve observed my mom while I was still at home—

“Hey, Deku, you done with that onion yet?”

Izuku let out a startled yelp, nearly dropping the knife as Katsuki returned from the bathroom. He looked down at Izuku’s cutting board.

“So, that’s how far you’ve gotten, huh...” Katsuki trailed off as he began to make his way over to Izuku.

Izuku began to panic as the blond got closer. What was Katsuki going to do? Deep down, Izuku knew that the blond would probably threaten him with a tickle fest, but he kept fearing that he would use his Quirk. He suddenly remembered the heated fight they got in three months ago, where they had to fight a very clever and devious villain and Izuku nearly lost his life. The two of them went at each other with their Quirks in an all-out battle, destroying half of their apartment.

When Katsuki was being vague, Izuku couldn’t help but fear what would come next.

He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for Katsuki to reprimand him. Suddenly, he felt Katsuki’s warm scent envelop him completely. His eyes flew open and he watched as Katsuki’s hands slid down his arms and rested atop his hands.

“You’re holding the knife wrong, Deku.” Izuku nearly jumped at how close Katsuki’s rough, but gentle voice was to his ear. “This is how you’re supposed to hold the knife,” he began, positioning Izuku’s hand properly on the knife.

“Then, you need to curl your fingers in like this so that you don’t cut any of them off,” he curled the fingers on Izuku’s other hand and placed them atop the onion, “Next, you cut into it vertically just slightly and after that, we’re going to chop it nice and slow.” Katsuki explained.

As they went through the motions, Izuku’s senses went into overdrive. There were the sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board lightly with each clean cut. Then there was the intoxicating scent of cinnamon and cologne that clung to the blond. Katsuki’s hand resting on top of his. The feeling of Katsuki’s toned chest through his apron and shirt almost flush against his back. Katsuki’s breath tickling the shell of his ear as he whispered encouraging words to him every once in a while. It was enough to drive Izuku mad and he had to stop himself from having his heart leap out of his chest and his body melt into a puddle of mush.

“And there. The onion’s done.”

Katsuki’s voice brought Izuku back to reality and he saw that the onion was cut into nice and even bite-sized pieces.

“Wow...” Izuku trailed off.

Oh my gosh, I actually did it! Well, I had Kacchan’s help, but this is still pretty amazing, he thought to himself.

“I see someone’s pretty damn happy that they managed to cut an onion. Well, you obviously couldn’t have done it without me, your boyfriend, the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.” the blond said.

Izuku couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re ego’s starting to come through again, Kacchan.” he teased.

Katsuki huffed out a sigh.

“Like hell it is, Deku.” he replied before bringing Izuku’s earlobe in between his teeth and tugging lightly on it.

Izuku squealed, his cheeks turning red.

“Ka-Kacchan!” he exclaimed in shock.

“I knew it. You started getting flustered with how close I was to you.” Katsuki commented.

“Hu-Huh?! That’s not what this is—”

“Don’t lie to me, Deku.”

Katsuki took the knife out of Izuku’s hand, put it down on the cutting board, and turned him so that they were face to face.

It was only then that Izuku registered the stinging in his eyes from when they were cutting the onion no too long ago. He looked up at Katsuki through watery eyes.

“Kacchan...” he grumbled, a pout making its way to his lips.

Katsuki chuckled.

“Wow, Deku...just looking at your cute face flushed all red like a tomato makes it all the more obvious that you’re one hundred percent cinnamon roll material.” he commented.

“Huh?” Izuku blinked, some tears slipping down his cheeks as he followed Katsuki’s gaze down to his apron.

Sure enough, the words “100% Pure Cinnamon Roll Material” were printed in black block letters across the white apron. His cheeks grew redder as he looked back and forth between their aprons, connecting the dots.

Oh gosh, these are the couple aprons that Kirishima got us for Christmas last year, he thought to himself.

He eyed his boyfriend curiously.

Since when was Kacchan such a romantic sap, he wondered to himself.

Sure, there would be times where Katsuki did romantic things and acted romantic, but it was never to the extent where Katsuki would be willing to wear couple set aprons.

“Hey, Kaccha—” Before Izuku could finish his sentence, Katsuki leaned in and began to kiss his tears away. His heart skipped a beat at the action.

“Kacchan...? What are you...?” Izuku trailed off.

“Somebody’s gotta get rid of those tears, don’t you think?” Katsuki asked.

“I get that, but...” Izuku’s eyes continued to sting as he noticed something. “Hey, Kacchan...how come your eyes aren’t watery?” he asked.

“That’s because I’m immune to it.” Katsuki replied.

This made Izuku pout.

“Not fair...I wish I could also be immune to it...” he mumbled.

“If you end up being immune to it as well, then I won’t be able to kiss those tears away.” Katsuki commented.

“Geez, Kacchan, you’re being very sappy today.”

“Well, I don’t see you complaining about it.”

In the next moment, Katsuki closed the distance between them, their lips coming together in a kiss. Izuku instantly melted, his hands moving to rest on Katsuki’s broad shoulders while Katsuki’s hands sat on either side of Izuku, trapping him against the counter. His hands eventually traveled down to his hips and he squeezed them lightly, causing a squeal to escape Izuku’s lips.

“Kacchan...!” he exclaimed against Katsuki’s lips, which split into a wide smirk as he placed his hands under Izuku’s thighs and lifted him up, carrying him over and setting him down on some empty counter space beside the sink.

Katsuki pulled away and he proceeded to pepper kisses all over Izuku’s face from his forehead to his cheeks, nose, eyelids, chin, and even the freckles that dotted his cheeks. Izuku giggled as Katsuki moved lover, trailing kisses along the sides of his neck and his exposed collarbone.

“Kacchan, just what in the world are you doing?!” he asked, giggling as Katsuki bit the side of his neck playfully.

“I am trying to kiss every inch of your fucking beautiful body.” Katsuki withdrew so that he could shoot Izuku a devious smile. “Is there something wrong with that?” he asked.

“N-No! There’s nothing wrong with that at all, Kacchan! It’s just—” at that moment, the rice cooker beeped.

Katsuki let out a growl, whirling around to glare at the offending appliance perched on the counter near the stove.

“That motherfucking machine trying to get in the way of my fucking time with my drop-dead gorgeous Deku, what the everloving fuckity fuck fuck—”

“Now, now, Kacchan, relax.” Izuku reached out to pat Katsuki’s head. “We should finish prepping the rest of the ingredients and make the curry.” he suggested.

Katsuki continued to glare daggers at the rice cooker before huffing out a sigh.

“Okay, fiiiiiiiiiine!” he barked out as he helped Izuku off of the counter.

As soon as Izuku’s feet touched the ground, Katsuki continued.

“We’ll finish making that curry. But remember, Deku,” he smacked Izuku’s ass, making him yelp, “there’ll be more of where that came from later tonight.” he said, his voice husky as he withdrew his hand and headed over to the rice cooker.

Izuku’s cheeks flushed red, silently pondering over what Katsuki might have in store for them later tonight as he watched Katsuki angrily pop the lid open, swearing at the rice cooker all the while.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakudeku #bkdk #katsuki bakugou #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bkdk domestic au #part 1 #domestic fluff #two dorks being cute #i mean look at them being cute #kacchan teaching deku how to cook #kawaiikichi

55 notes · View notes

therearemorethanfivenights · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 11 is up!

I’m spending my quaran-time wisely by writing about a dead teenager hunting for her killer.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11674818/chapters/56827993

I’m also working on art, some shorts about characters we’ve yet to see and a backlog of chapters for if/when I lose momentum again. Planning ahead is important, kids.

Continue reading under the cut-

It had been a fair few hours since Marie's strange episode, and she was up and about once more. Up, about, and ready to follow her first lead. "Seriously, do you think I would hide something like being the witness to a god damn murder from everyone? I'm literally designed so that I can't do that." Mangle was sat sorting through a small box of mini LEDs. She was there, she was the one who screamed and was dragged off, it was impossible for it not to have been her. "That's my point exactly! Unless it was some insane near-death vision - which it definitely was not - then you were there. Yet somehow, you don't remember a thing. That can't have been an accident!" Marie grabbed her friend's shoulders tight, startling her. The tiny bulbs scattered at her feet, some finding there way through a gap in the floor panels of her den and dropping to the floor below.

"Ifreann... what do you mean? You think someone wiped my brain? This isn't a movie Marie, and even if that was what happened, the only person who could have done that was..." She trailed off as she thought. The whole thing made more sense than she wanted to admit. If anyone had seen a crime, the criminal would want to remove the threat of them talking. So it was entirely possible that she had seen her friend's murder. By that logic, any one of the animatronics could have been a witness to or even assisted with one of the murders. But they couldn't. "Fixing our mechanisms is tricky, but doable. Rewiring a whole bunch of stuff in our brains, so to speak, is nigh on impossible. At the time of you getting shanked-" "Tactful as always." "I was the only person capable of doing anything remotely close to that. There was only one man who could have done it to such a degree of 'not-fucking-everything-else-up-as-well', and he was definitely dead by then." She finished, muttering further as she began the grueling task of tidying the bits on her floor. Marie paused. She was right, of course. Everybody knew the fate of William Afton, he had killed himself shortly after the Bite had occurred. Unless...

"What if he wasn't dead. What if he isn't."

"What?"

"William, the guy who built you. You said that he was the only one capable of fiddling with your head with that level of precision. To wipe all traces of an event without leaving a weird gap in your memory that would make you suspicious. What if he never offed himself, but just made you forget who he was... describe him for me." Marie had a hunch. "What, William? Well, he was... he was... I... I don't remember anything about him." She stopped picking at the floor. "But, he was always elusive, right? Not many people saw him and we only did during the early days. We never saw him after we were installed at the restaurant. At least... I don't think we did."

It suddenly made sense. Or at the very least, more sense than it had before today. If her theory was correct, then it would explain why, despite being walking security cameras, nobody had seen anyone suspicious. They were programmed to find everything about this guy completely normal, no matter how much creepy lurking and luring he may be doing. But while she had a plausible suspect, there was no motive. "I'm going to think on this a while. You, uh, have fun with your blinky lights." She said, handing her the closest one before floating out the door and away.

Dawn had been listening in as best she could. "Marie, not to butt in..." She emerged from the shadows beneath Mangle's den, squeezing awkwardly past various shelves. "I just wanted you to know... if I can help at all... like with all of this..." Marie smiled, trying to seem as unfazed as possible. "I know. I'm fine D, really." She continued towards the door. Dawn frowned. She didn't really understand any of this, and that bothered her. Normally if Marie had a problem she would tell her. She felt useless. "Actually..." She stopped. "Mind if I ask you something? Just wondering-" "Yes?" "Before you started here... There was a time between you and Afton right? When there was just, nobody doing repairs?" She asked. "No, I mean, yes there was nobody here. I think mostly it was just Mangle doing what she could." Dawn replied. "It's weird though, even with a robot brain, it would have taken a long time to figure out everything she has. So, before she knew what she knows... lucky there weren't any major problems, right?" She laughed nervously. "Huh."

Mike and Amy were still sifting through what information they could find on the Bite of '87. "Remember how this was just supposed to be a nice walk around to work off lunch?" Amy teased. She was enjoying their conspiracy hunt to a degree, but they'd reached an impasse a few articles back. There was the motive for murder but nothing could prove that the man was alive, let alone anywhere near the establishment at the time of the first murders. "I know." Mike was uninterested. If he wasn't here he'd be obligated to be at 'home' with his 'family'. No thanks, there had to be some way to prove him either right or wrong, either would be preferable to listening to his extended family argue about political bullcrap. And then the Puppet hovered in.

"Hey, how you feeling? I overheard something had happened. Blow a fuse?" Amy asked sympathetically. Chica came by to explain that something strange had occurred on her way to see exactly what that meant, but they were too absorbed to follow. "Yeah... something like that." Marie peered over at the screen. "So what kinda smut are you looking at?" She asked, half-joking.

"News stuff."

"So no tits? Disappointing." She sighed. Amy raised an eyebrow. "I'm kidding. Mostly. What kinda news?" "We have this theory, about our killer, but it's nothing to worry over." Mike turned the monitor to show her the current article. "I mean, it involves a locally famous suicide being faked and a cyber-child, so probably in the realm of the crazy and slash or impossible." He scrolled absentmindedly onward. Marie immediately tensed up. "Mike... Is this the case of one William Afton? Because boy-howdy do I have some interesting insight into that mess." She made an uneasy grin. Mike nodded, almost amazed. He got up from his chair and let the Puppet sit down, uncaring as to whether it would make a difference. He perched by Amy on the desk, who seemed just as stunned. "We... have the motive to believe he's the one doing this, but there's no way we could prove he's still around. If we could then maybe, but right now we've hit a wall." He explained. Marie nodded slowly.

"Funny, I have the opposite problem. I can prove he was around I think, but not why." She said. "But you might not believe the 'source' exactly."

Mangle hadn't remained in her den for long. The more she tried to think of her creator, the less she seemed to actually remember, and this was bothering her. So she decided to ask around. Crawling through the vents, she tried to think of her earliest thoughts, before she had arrived at the pizzeria. Vague memories floated around. A voice, she could remember a voice, but was it his? It was polite, asking her things, always amazed by her answers. That had to be him.

"Toy Foxy? I wanted to ask you something." He said. "You're voice is different. It used to be the one I gave you, do you remember?" He imitated a voice she barely thought her own. "But now it's something different. Why is that? Do you know what it is?" She remembers feeling pestered, but she always answered. She had to, being considerate and helpful, but she didn't feel like it at times. "It's... Irish, isn't it? I just prefer the way it sounds. It feels like... the other voice is good, but it's yours. I want this one, it sounds like me. Why? Are you offended I didn't like what you gave me? Because I'm not changing it now." She laughed. She was much happier then, if a little annoyed by the barrage of questions.

She crawled out of the vent and down into the main hall. Below, Toy Chica was sat on her phone. Everyone had seemingly scuttled away, presumably coming to terms with today's revelation, but Toychi seemed to be entirely over it. "I've seen weirder things on the internet, in case you were wondering why I haven't curled up in a corner. I can see your reflection, y'know." She said, not looking up. Mangle extended her neck as far as possible to continue the conversation. She always misjudged how high the ceiling in here was. "Hey so, how much do you remember about William?" She asked. Toychi shrugged and continued to look at her various social media feeds.

"Come on, I need to know because of reasons." She swung her face so her hair covered Toychi's vision. "Important reasons." She affirmed. Toy chica sighed and did as she was asked. "I remember he was from England. And like, he was married I think." She said, trying to push Mangle's head away. "But nothing personal? Nothing the just us, his life's work, would remember? Or even what he looked like?" "Of course I remember... huh. That's... totally not ok. I have an amazing memory, how the hell can't I remember that guy?" She immediately began searching her phone. "I remember he gave me this, maybe I took pictures," she switched to the internet, "Google knows everything, maybe they have a picture!" She was becoming increasingly distressed. "Mangle! What the fuck does this guy look like?!" She cried.

At this point, Toy Freddy had emerged from backstage. "What the heck are you yelling about now? Is anyone else secretly a ghost?" He wasn't feeling up to any more ghost shenanigans. However, this didn't seem like something he could ignore, given the frantic pace at which Toy Chica had begun waving him over. "What colour hair did William Afton have?!" She asked, still aggressively applying as many advanced search keywords as possible. "What? How the heck would I know?" He responded. She barely acknowledged this, still scouring her device. Mangle clambered not-so-gracefully down from the ceiling. "Was he fat, or thin? What colour were his eyes? Did he have freckles? We should know, man, but we don't! Why?!" Toychi dropped her phone into her lap with a small thud before burying her face in her arms on the table.

"I mean, yeah, that is a little unusual. Maybe it's a glitch? Or maybe we just don't remember? Ten years is a long time." He sat beside her. It was strange but surely there were more important things happening than trying to remember one man. "A glitch for all of us? And I have over a thousand people's names, faces, birthdays, favourite flavours of ice-cream... We can't forget things, not really, not unless we delete things ourselves." Came a slightly muffled reply.

"Ok, but why does he even matter. He made us then dropped off the face of the earth, big deal." He said. He was actually quite interested in helping find out just how exactly someone had removed all traces of themselves from their minds, as William no doubt had done, and why, but Toychi was in hysterics and he wasn't prepared to encourage her.

All the while, Mike continued to compile his resources. Marie decided it'd be best to let him handle things. She felt a little bad since as it was, everyone else was cleaning up this mess that she was at the center of, yet she was just idly floating around and keeping as far from it all as she could. Aside from the notes she'd been compiling, it was all down to the others. But she was far too tired to deal with anything more. She ducked into the arcade and flopped haphazardly into her box once more. She stared into the darkness, admiring herself. She had done fairly well, all things considering.

"Why me though?" She asked aloud. It was an interesting question. From Mike's debrief, she knew who had killed her. At least, she thought she knew, because she was an outlier. The other victims were all connected. All were friends of Michael's older brother, William's nephew he'd taken in according to what little she remembered about her brother's friend's family. Then there was Alex, who could possibly have been a part of the group that hurt Michael. He wasn't, but William couldn't have known.

So why? She remembered the basement, the safe room. But that made no sense either. She was smarter than that, she watched horror movies all the time. How in the world could a total stranger have lured her into the basement of the Pizzaria?

Then she saw it.

It was a gift box, very like the one she now resided in. Aside from its sudden appearance, it could have been mistaken for a completely ordinary wrapped box. Something a child could have left for her or forgotten before closing the other day. It was Christmas after all. "Alright then." She said. Maybe she'd overlooked it, she wasn't exactly thinking straight. "Happy Hannukkah, me." She picked up the box. It wasn't small at all, yet it barely weighed anything. There was a small tag hanging from the bow. She squinted to read what it said, "You are not alone. If you awaken them, they will help you find him. They will help you hunt him. They will grant revenge... Ok, this is some weird shit." She dropped the box on the floor.

"Revenge is for losers anyway." She laughed through her nose, amused by the idea that she'd want revenge. Really, she just wanted this guy found and dealt with for the sake of others, for Alex. She eyed the box with suspicion. "What does it mean, 'they'. Other kids? The ones from before?" That made sense. It didn't make any sense at all because this was all insane, but then again she was a ghost so she was already pushing her own beliefs. "Maybe..." Against her better judgment, she picked the box up again.

"Maybe I should let them out. Or bring them back with this thing, whatever it's for. I mean, if these are the other kids... what harm could they do, right? If they're vengeful I can stop them, I'm more powerful. I think." She wondered exactly how powerful she was. Enough to put a stop to some stupid toddler tantrums. She grasped the ribbons on the lid of the box. She tried once more to recall what happened the night of her death, secretly hoping that she wouldn't need this supernatural pandora's box to fix this if it even could.

It was the eve of Halloween, the eve of her birthday. "God, and then he just gets up as if nothing had happened." She was hanging around the alley beside the pizzeria, "Hey, mind letting me in on those?" She referred to the box of cigarettes in Vincent's hand. "These things kill you know." He said but still offered her one. He hadn't been ok since the Bite had happened. It was weird the place was open so quickly after such a massive accident, but it was probably something to do with corporate greed or whatever. She was more concerned about her friend.

"Look, you need to take time off. I couldn't give any less of a shit what your boss says, this place should be shut for the rest of the year and you need help." She brought a cigarette to her lips and lit it. A terrible habit for a kid, she knew, but she was running out of legal ways to stave off stress. She sighed a long trail of smoke as he shrugged at her. "Don't shrug, you know I'm right." She said, resting her hand on his shoulder. He brushed it away dejectedly and continued to stare at the floor.

"No offense Marie... but you don't know jack shit about what's going on right now. You don't know anything and you never will. You can't." He glared at her. Something was definitely off. His voice kept faltering, changing almost. Like his whole person was just an act. It scared her. But she thought she understood. "Just focus on keeping yourself safe, ok?" He tried to smile at her. She was a child, of course, there was no way she'd understand how this worked. Vincent sounded almost like her father, in a terrible sort of way, but it was fine. They'd both suffered, he was trying to push her away for both of them. She understood that.

Her face that night was a mess of make-up and grime. She'd looked for hours but he was gone. Her throat burned from trying to make her voice heard over the crowds of kids rushing to and fro. Nothing mattered anymore. Her parents, of course, blamed her. And for once, they were right, everything was her fault. But even now, as her mother wailed into her father's lap, as her father retold what they knew to his fellow police officers, she was going to fix this. She slid her window open and climbed outside. She clutched the only thing that seemed to bring any comfort, a doll of the Puppet, a gift from Vincent for her birthday last year. She hurried to the bus-stop. There was only one bus this late, she'd be walking home, but it didn't matter. She hopped on and dropped a large handful of change through the tiny gap.

Getting in was easy. Vincent taught her a trick with the back door into parts and services. "Alex?" She cried softly into the darkness. She wished she had a torch, this place was much creepier in the dark. She stumbled through the small warehouse. "Alex?" She was trying to be as loud as possible and as quiet as possible, she knew there'd be a guard on duty and the police could get here soon. She felt a little less concerned about the guard, she'd met Scott once and he seemed like a nice enough person, but he'd also likely call her parents.

"Alex?" Her voice echoed through the corridors. Eventually, she found herself in the arcade. She pushed her back against the wall and slid to the floor. This was it. Alex was gone forever. "Marie? Oh my god Marie what are you doing here?" Vincent's voice. He flashed a light through the door and approached her spot. "You! Where were you! He's gone, he's gone, it's your job to stop this stuff!" She kicked at his shins. "I'm sorry..." She began to sob again. Vincent knelt by her and offered his hand. "It's ok, we'll find him. Follow me." He said. She sniffed and cleaned her face as best she could.

They slowly made their way through the halls, checking every inch for any sign of Alex. "What are you even doing here, I thought Scott worked nights?" She asked, checking under each table for any scrap of evidence. Vincent handed her the torch. "Switched shifts. Work keeping me focused, you know?" "Like, focused on anything special, or focused on not..." "I said you know, didn't I? Got to keep going." He looked around. "I'm going to head back to the office, maybe some security footage will help. Think you can check the other rooms yourself?" He tossed her the keys and headed off before she even replied.

It'd been some time. What was he doing? She began heading towards the office. A door. Staff only. Maybe...

Stairs. Cold. Pain.

"No."

Marie stared at the box. William was a sure fit for everything, but he'd need access to the security footage to delete any evidence, and he had no idea who Marie was. She'd stumbled on Alex's body, sure, but how would he have known she was there if he was just popping in to murder a child then leaving again. He'd have to have been in the building, in the office to watch where she went. "No." He'd have to be working in the pizzeria, with an alias as a cover. "No." He would have to have been someone that she trusted, and who trusted her as much. "No. No that's ridiculous."

Michael used to call Vincent 'dad'. How did he know how to help Mangle and Dawn? Scott always seemed like Vince was his superior when he wasn't. He could always somehow buy her all sorts of nice things on pittance pay. Henry's kids own the place, yet they let Vincent get away with things anyone else could be fired on the spot for. He could mimic voices so well, was it such a stretch to say is 'real' voice was a fake too? Things she'd never questioned before suddenly seemed to pile up. He first talked about doing everything themselves, keeping the police and the victim's families as far away as possible. But he would never hurt her, he cared about her, he was her best friend.

Then, without her meaning to, the bottom of the box tumbled to the floor, the top still stuck in Marie's grip. The arcade machines flashed violently as a group of masks resembling the cast's old animal heads appeared, much like her own. They fizzled into small balls of light, then vanished. A message appeared on one of the cabinet screens. 'Give gift', it read. 'Give life', it read. Marie let the lid join the rest of the box on the floor. The screens went black again and left her in the dark.

"Oh no."

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #ThereareMorethanFiveNights #TAMTFN #Chapter 11 #of part 1

1 note · View note

engineeringenigma · 6 years ago

Text

Let’s Write an Acceptable Cover Letter!

I have a friend who’s looking at job searching, I am Way Too into job search advice, and I just took a bunch of caffeine to try to deal with this migraine, so let’s go over “I want to write a cover letter but AGH!”

First, I owe basically all my knowledge to Alison Green over at askamanager.org, and she has some great advice! But all her cover letter examples are basically “let me explain how I’m the perfect candidate for this job” which requires you to, yanno, be the perfect candidate for the job, and that doesn’t usually happen. (Alison would probably say that you should try to apply for jobs where you’re as close to a perfect candidate as possible, but that just doesn’t happen a lot of the time. Especially if you’re newer at this!)

If you wanna check out her advice, though:

https://www.thecut.com/article/how-to-write-a-cover-letter.html

https://www.askamanager.org/2014/02/heres-a-real-life-example-of-a-great-cover-letter-with-before-and-after-versions.html

https://www.askamanager.org/2019/04/heres-a-real-life-example-of-an-excellent-cover-letter.html

(She also tends to like one or two effusive statements that are what I’d call “sales-y”, but that might be an “I’m an engineer” issue.)

Now, for over in adequate-person land, you want your cover letter to tick four boxes:

- It should exist (more than three sentences for an extra credit point)

- It shouldn’t be full of typos/grammatical errors

- It should clearly be written with the job you’re applying to in mind (sorry, no mass-market cover letters, and especially don’t have fill-in-the-blank sections in a different font)

- It should say at least ONE thing not on your resume

We’re not trying to be Masters Of Job Applications here, we’re just trying to get past the “AGH COVER LETTER” step. If that sounds More Doable Than Expected, read on!

So our goal here is that a cover letter takes about 30 minutes to write (the first few might take a little longer while you come up with some examples!) and that 30 minutes is broken down into easy chunks. This is Many Steps BUT the intention is that you can do one step, and then stop, and then come back and do another step later.

STEP ONE:

So easy stuff first: read the job posting! Do they request a cover letter? Do they tell you to do anything specific in your cover letter? Make a note of that and make sure you do it!

STEP TWO:

Now, you want to answer at least THREE of the following questions:

Why are you applying to this job posting instead of a different job posting?

What do you like about the company you’re applying to?

What part of the job are you the most excited about?

What is one thing that you’ve done in your life that has prepared you for some part of this job? (bonus points if that thing happened at a previous job)

What is one thing you’re good at that this job needs someone to be good at? (bonus points if you have a one or two sentence example of you being good at that thing)

What is one particularly awesome thing you did at a previous job that is at least tangentially related to what needs to get done at this job?

What is something on your resume that doesn’t seem relevant at first glance, but you can explain how it is?

(The ‘one thing’ questions can also be answered more than once! That is also bonus points.)

Some tips that may or may not be helpful, depending on your personality!

- Think about each question for three minutes. If you can’t think of an answer in three minutes, move on to the next one. (Coming back later is optional.)

- Try to answer a given question for 3-5 different job postings. That gives you a range for ‘well at least in THIS job I’d be good at [X] and for THIS company I like [Y]. Remember your answers/examples don’t have to be perfect, they just have to exist!

- Think about stuff you’ve done that you’re proud of and make a list of that! See if any of that answers any of the questions. Trouble with that? List all the stuff you’ve done in a job. Any job, if you did it, it goes on the list.

- Reuse your answers from posting to posting! It’ll get easier after the first few.

- If you really can’t answer ANY of the questions, this job might not be a good fit for you. That’s ok! (But remember that your answers don’t have to be perfect!)

This is the hardest step! If you made it this far, good job!

STEP THREE:

Sort your answers into rough categories- “why I want this job” and “why I’d be good at this job” are the two that come to mind. “Why I want this job” could be one paragraph and “why I’d be good at it” could be two or three. Just kinda mush them all together for now but try to figure out what order you’d say them.

STEP FOUR:

Ok, now make your answers complete sentences and throw in some connecty stuff to make it flow a little better. “I also have experience with...” “In addition...” Keep in mind, you don’t have to be High Formal English Businesses Words! (not being Super Stilted Writing is better if you can swing it)

STEP FIVE:

Put it down for somewhere between 30 minutes and 24 hours and come back to it. (You can skip this step if you don’t think it’d be helpful, or if the posting is only gonna be up for so long, or you just want to GET THIS PROCESS OVER WITH.)

STEP SIX:

Re-read the thing. Do you sound like a Reasonably Human Person? (Check for rambling, abrupt transitions, or awkward phrasing.)

If it’s more than one page, cut whatever you think is the least persuasive. If it’s nowhere near one page, don’t worry- remember, your goal is a letter that exists!

Try to avoid sounding (a) like an infomercial or (b) like you are not worthy of hiring. (If any part of your cover letter sounds like “I totally get it if you don’t want to interview me but”, skip everything before the ‘but’)

Typo check! Spell check is good.

STEP SEVEN:

Put “Dear Hiring Manager” at the top (or “Dear so-and-so” if the posting specifically says ‘address to X person’ or ‘X person is the hiring manager for this position’ and your name at the bottom. “Sincerely” is a good sign-off that implies nothing and doesn’t detract.

STEP EIGHT:

Take a deep breath and submit it!

STEP NINE:

PARTY YOU DID IT.

STEP TEN:

Keep trying! Amazing people get rejected all the time for lots of different reasons, and it can absolutely take multiple applications to get an interview, let alone a job!

#I can't tell if this is too much caffeine or I'm just Like This #job advice I guess

18 notes · View notes

thequeenofcronuts · 6 years ago

Text

Justify My Love - Chapter 4 - Be OK, Pressing On

Book: The Royal Romance Word Count: 4,835-ish Pairing: Maxwell x MC (Kristina Hampshire), Hana, Drake, OCs

Warnings - Language

A/N In this TRR kinda sorta off cannon Series: Kristina (MC) decides she cannot stay in Cordonia after the events of the Coronation Ball. Not so much caring about her own reputation, but caring for the life of the man she has been falling for, which is not the prince. She returns to New York and is faced with her heartbreak and regret while Maxwell is left in Cordonia struggling to understand the truth behind his feelings. Will they let each other go?

**All characters and named places are owned by Pixelberry Studios. Rights to the songs lyrics and titles in this series belong to:

Justify My Love (Madonna) - Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, Universal Music Publishing Group, Reach Music Publishing, BMG Rights Management

Be OK (Ingrid Michaelson) - Cabin 24 Records

Pressing On (Relient K) - Universal Music Publishing Group

Series Tags @littleblossom357 @alj4890 @cosigottahavefaith

——————————

Kristina's POV

- Be OK -

Kristina still hasn't opened up to Daniel about her time abroad…at all…and it's been weeks since she returned. They do talk every day, but it's mainly because Daniel calls her. She goes to work and comes home, and that is it. Except for her days off when she chooses to just stay home the whole time. Truthfully, he is starting to get rather nervous about her lack of socialization and her apparent lack of any true emotion. She just plasters on a fake smile for work. It's been awhile since he has seen a glimpse of the real Kristina he knows is still in there somewhere. It's time to call in reinforcements, he decides.

He reaches out to his best friend from back home, Stephen, and his wife, Lisa. The first time Kristina met the couple, over a year and a half ago, they instantly became friends. They all share the same dry and sarcastic sense of humor, enjoy lots of witty banter, and are all around Kristina's type of people. Daniel decides to make the FaceTime call to the couple. During the call Stephen quips, “Ok, so Lisa and I get that you're telling us that Kris is currently an emotional wreck without the emotions part…” Lisa cuts off her husband, “but can you give me an example. Girls are better suited to break down these kind of things.” Daniel chuckles with a sound thick of disbelief. “Ok Professor Reader of the Female Mind, last week I brought a box over filled with one of her all time favorite treats.” “Ok, so we’re talking cronuts.” “Lisa, let the man speak before you go all girl detective. Proceed Daniel.” “Ok, yes I thought a box of them could help her mood. Boy was I wrong. She basically went from tears, to sobs, to yelling, and then stormed out of her apartment to the laundry room in the basement of the building.” “Dude, I know I’m just a guy here,” Stephen shoots Lisa a look of feigned cluelessness, “but why the basement laundry room? Oh magnificent Lisa, explain this piece of your investigative puzzle.” Daniel jumps in, “When you see the size of her studio apartment you’ll understand why she sought out her privacy in there.” “And that's it Daniel” Lisa asks, “she ran from a box of cronuts? … Yeah, I got nothing. I’ll concede that this is way above the girl code of understanding.” Stephen tries to contain his triumphant laughter, but just can't. “Way to go all things woman super sleuth!” “Ok, ok, but we have to figure this out. Who knew a delicate pastry would be our beginning lead? We’ll be there asap.” Lisa says then ends the phone chat.

Daniel got the exact reaction from Kristina he expecting as he told her the couple was coming for a visit, “I know I always do the itinerary for their visits, but this visit it is up to Lisa. So have her plan it since I am adamant about not being apart of any of it.” Kristina said coldly. A few days later Lisa took the duty on and planned Operation Crack Open Kristina. This was meant to crush the shell that was becoming Kristina; and by the time Lisa had finished the itinerary the plan was set into motion. Unbeknownst to Kristina she was heading on a weekend trip to Atlantic City. The Hotel was booked, Daniel had a rental car scheduled, and the choices for entertainment were set.

The day Lisa and Stephen’s flight landed Daniel took them straight to Kristina's for the ambush. They stood in her doorway telling her that the weekend retreat was imminent. Which Kristina calls it a friendly form of forced kidnapping. Lisa just giggles as she she packs Kristina’s overnight bag as Kristina was strongly voicing her concerns as a protest for the trip. “I don't “go” out to places any more and I don't want to start now….. Atlantic City is too far from the city for just a couple of days and one night…..I hadn't planned for something like this so I don't have the money….” All to which Daniel, Stephen, and Lisa easily counters.

Daniel - “Kris, it's just roughly a two hour drive to Atlantic City, so a weekend trip is completely doable.”

Stephen - “The three of us are splitting the trip. Two adjoining rooms and the rental car are easily covered by Daniel and us.”

Lisa - “Today is the day you go from “don't go places” to getting out of this apartment, now.”

Lisa tosses Kristina the overnight bag while Stephen claps his hands with a triumphant look, “And……mic dropped…so off we go.”

Not too long later they’re on the road while Kristina is shaking shaking her head thinking to herself, I really love these people, I do, just not so much this weekend. She settles into the passenger seat with a dramatic sigh which is completely ignored by her companions.

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

As Kristina watches through the window, of the surprisingly nice and comfy rental car, the world whizz by while chatter fills the vehicle. She puts in her earbuds to drown it all out and picks a playlist that she recently made tapping shuffle. The music cancels out all the noise when the first song plays, which is one of her current favorites. Sometimes song lyrics coincide with the exact emotions of your thoughts and heart. She closes her eyes and gets lost in the song….

‘I just want to be okay, be okay, be ok I just to be okay today I just want to be okay, be okay, be ok I just to be okay today

‘I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today I just want to feel something today I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today I just want to feel something today’…

Daniel looks over and lightly smacks Kristina's knee to get her attention, so she takes out one earbud to pause the song. “What Daniel?” She looks over and arches an eyebrow at him. He looks over again and answers, “Kris, are you going to join us in our amazing conversations? Maybe sometime soon?”. “Daniel, just please watch the road,” she answers, “we don't need to add an accident to this crazy weekend.” Stephen yells from the backseat, “Yeah, crazy awesome weekend here we come!” Kristina looks over her shoulder while narrowing her eyes in a glassy stare, “ Stephen, that wasn't the actual sentiment I was going for with my statement.” He retorts jovially, “ I know, but we gotta get you out of this funk you’ve been swimming in girl!”

Kristina crosses her arms and huffs, her mind answers, It's not a funk and you have no idea. “Just because you and Lisa have a wonderful marriage and Daniel is now serious with Mitch, doesn't prove that ‘There's someone for everyone’. Every hopeless romantic likes to remind their single friends this. ‘Just wait and see, it will happen for you.’ Well I hate to spoil the dream, but waiting for the person that makes you whole is a crock of shit.” Daniel looks in the rear view mirror at Lisa and Stephen and Lisa throws them a knowing look…they just witnessed a bit of Kristina's shell cracking.

“Speaking of couples, why am I going on this trip? Shouldn't this be a couples thing? Where's your boyfriend Daniel?” There's a slight tone of disgust in her voice. Daniel blows air through his lips, man she's even more stubborn than when she decided that it was a fabulous idea to fly off to a distant country on a whim. “Mitch couldn't get off work.” Daniel stated while he shrugged his shoulders. Unbeknownst to Kristina, the group never intended for Mitch to go. And since they had a “can't be cancelled” reservation, they “needed” her to come. They explained that because the trip was bit expensive it needed to happen. Lisa pipes into the conversation, “Reason number one: Look at it this way, Kris, you need to get out and live, Mitch’s inability to go provides the opportunity! Just going to work doesn't count as going out and experiencing life” Stephen adds “"Reason B we needed you to come to have an even number.” I know you all think this is some intervention type thingy, but not going to work. Kristina internally says to herself. Kristina sends icy daggers to the group.

“Man Daniel, can you turn the heat on because it just got cold in here!” Lisa smacks Stephen’s arm and whispers, “I don't think the brand of humor you’re attempting is going to work right now, so can it.” Daniel continues, “While Mitch’s job comes with vacation time Kris, it doesn't mean he gets to take it on a whim. It's not like that in retail.” “Oh riiiight,” she says with an almost playful but still flat tone, “That’s right, Mitch is a manager at a big time department store.” Kristina gives a rye smile, “So I guess while he works, you get to go out and play. Sounds like you're a ‘gold digger’ to me Daniel.” It's silent in the car for a moment and Stephen can't hold it in. “Shit Kris, that was….an actual joke. Hold the presses we have breaking news! Kristina Hampshire almost cracked a smile as she totally dissed one of her BFFs!” He wears a sarcastic, mocking look of horror and when Kristina sees it over her shoulder she throws a balled up wrapper from her breakfast sandwich, hitting him right in the mouth. “Shut it Stephen.” “Sweet Kris, looks you still do human emotions! Man, Lets go PAR-TAAAAAY!!

Party…of all the words he could say, any other word, he yells party. Shit, really?! Why do the gods torture me? Kristina's mind goes immediately to Maxwell. Well honestly there really isn't a moment he doesn't consume her thoughts. Her face instantly sours. “Ugh, I so LOVINGLY HATE you all! So just drop it. DROP.IT. Drop ALL of it.” Lisa reaches from the backseat and gives Kristina's shoulder a gentle squeeze, as she understands that patients is the only way to crack through more of Kristina's shell. So she changes the subject. “Sleeping arrangements. We have two adjoining rooms. Kristina and I will share one and have some girl time. If you see the adjoining door is shut stay the fuck out. Got it boys?” They nod as if their mother had just grabbed them by the ear for a good scolding. “Otherwise we all can enjoy time together.”

Quite fills the cabin of the car again. Daniel turns on the radio for something to listen to, while the other three put in earbuds. Kristina has ended all conversion…for now. She rests her head back onto the window and closes her eyes while the song that paused picks up where it left off and her mind drifts…

Maxwell had his phone connected to a pretty decent pair of portable speakers in Kristina's room. The music is blaring as it was a rare night with no scheduled court functions due to the day being a travel day, to Applewood Manor. And….what made it unbelievably more awesome was Bertrand decided to forgo any lessons or lectures for the night. He had a fairly bad headache, and while they felt sorry for him, Kristina and Maxwell decided to use every second of this unexpected and glorious freedom. They moved some furniture around the room giving them a nice space as a dance floor, and with the music pumping, pajamas donned, and snacks acquired the private VIP party began.

Kristina nearly lost all of her composure when she got a glimpse of Maxwell's sea blue pajamas with an orange squid pattern. She was uncontrollably laughing at the sight and asked, “Where is the calypso music, Maxwell? Are we under the sea?” He just sauntered to the center of their “dance floor” spinning on the ball of his left foot stopping to face her in a ‘Charlie’s Angels’ type pose. Kristina's collapsed on the bed laughing so hard she could barely speak. She managed to get out, “H-how…do…you…know…” huge breath then continues to cackle, “How…you do know…Charlie’s…Angels….?” Maxwell puts his hands on his hips, looking at her with a serious face, and he answers matter of factly, “ Come on Kristina, hello, the internet. You might want to watch some videos on there sometime. Maybe one of these day you can look at some tutorial videos and manage to keep up with my smooth moves.” His eyebrows wiggle and Kristina throws a pillow at him. “I think my moves are more than acceptable. Thank you very much.” Maxwell walks over to the bed, bows dramatically and offers her his hand. She takes it and she began to shimmy and shake to the beat, while Maxwell stood back with his arms crossed shaking his head in a mock of disapproval. “Not bad Kristina, my young grasshopper, but let the master teach you his ways.”

After a while of dancing they were breathless and decided to take a break. Sitting on the floor with Kristina rested her head on Maxwell’s shoulder he began to show her some of his favorite internet videos and memes that left them both in stitches. Neither one had laughed like they did that night in so long. It's not Bertrand sets aside time for frivolity in his daily agenda. Laughing until they were in pain Maxwell spontaneously jumped up and pulled Kristina up with him. “I’ve got a second wind, so it's time for the master to test the moves he so masterfully taught you.”

Kristina soon was mesmerized by Maxwell and the way his body moved. She stepped back to observe, okay possibly ogle him as he was going seamlessly from one form of type of dance moves into another. While he wasn't quite as muscular as Liam or Drake, dancing certainly did benefit his physique. Between that and his carefree spirit with a heart of gold he pulled her in unexpectedly. Finally he again grabbed Kristina by the hand bringing her close to dance. Bam, she feeling butterflies in her stomach and was a bit dizzy. Problem was this dance didn't seem to affect him the same way. Kristina don't go there. Keep this as the easy, happy friendship it is. While thinking all of this and losing her focus she ends up tripping falling to the ground while they both uncontrollably giggled. Just as Maxwell leaned down to help her up, while he was looking right into her eyes, there is a rather loud thumping on the door. Maxwell went to turn the music down and grabs an apple from the nightstand while Kristina jumps up and opens the door to find a rather grumpier than usual Drake. How can he be even more grouchy than usual. Must be a natural talent.

Drake stands outside her door in a white t-shirt, and lounge pants, with his hair tussled in all directions. “Ummm, hi Drake. Were we bothering you?” Kristina tried so hard to stifle her snickers as his disheveled appearance. Maxwell yelled, “Hey buddy, want to join the party?” and Kristina stepped aside to let Drake into the room. After three steps he finds Maxwell lounging on the bed munching on the apple. “Beaumont, I should have known.” Drake says with bite to his tone. “Do you two know what time it is? Some people are trying to sleep.” Drake exasperatedly taps on his wrist watch, while Kristina notices something odd in his balled up hand.

“Watcha got there, Walker?” Drake uncomfortably shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Uh…well what the hell? Might as well tell you…ear plugs.” Maxwell eagerly jumps into the conversation. “What do you need ear plugs for, Drake?” He looks at him with half a smirk. Nervously Drake tries to find his words carefully. “Uh, well, um,…” Drake closes eyes so he won't have to look at either of them while he explains, “When traveling with court you never know where your assigned bedroom will be located. And you know how a lot of nobles are. So, earplugs are always good for not having to listen to all the sounds of their, uhhh, extracurricular activities.” Before Kristina can even start to laugh at poor Drake, Maxwell turns to her and quickly lets out, “So, Kristina, what Drake is telling us is we’re louder than two nobles.” He wiggles his eyebrows. As she and Maxwell burst into fits of laughter Drake turns a deep shade of red, curses under his breath while turning back on his heel leaving, slamming the door behind him.

Kristina can't stand it any longer as she is laughing so hard it is literally painful. She falls back onto the bed next to Maxwell and it takes what feels like forever for both to get ahold of their composure. After a few minutes of comfortable silence Kristina turns her head towards him. “Hey Maxwell, I really enjoyed tonight and hanging out with you.” Maxwell turns to respond and Kristina notices how close they are, almost noses touching. “Awww Kristina, me too.” For just a few seconds Kristina feels the anticipation of a kiss, but Maxwell, in no way catching the drift, ruffles her hair and sits up. “Well, we should get some sleep. It won't be long until I’ll be knocking on your door for your morning wakeup call. I’ll come by a little early and help you get the room back together.” Kristina nods, and gets up as he does. Walking him to the door he gives her a big bear hug as he tells her good night while he walks out her door. Kristina quietly leans her back against the now close door and sighs. Her heart flutters as she thinks about being so close to him, and thinking they were so close to a moment. She walks over to turn off the light and flops down on the bed. Staring at the ceiling with a dreamy smile. She knew she was now seriously in trouble. The Crown Prince was the furthest thing from her mind.

Kristina is brought back to the present by a bump in the road and opens up her eyes seeing her reflection in the window. A small smile fades as fast as it graces her lips. She didn't even realize that while she was reliving that night she had subconsciously replayed the song.

‘Open me up and you will see I’m a gallery of broken hearts I’m beyond repair let me be And give me back my broken parts’

‘Just me back my pieces Just give them back to me please Just give back my pieces And let hold my broken parts’

——————————

Maxwell’s POV

- Pressing On -

Drake as never been so happy to be off a plane, and even more elated when Maxwell spots Hana in the baggage claim area. Seeing her, leaving Drake behind, he runs to pick her up and swing her in a circle. As Hana giggles, “Maxwell put me down. While I am happy we are untied again, save that enthusiasm for Kristina.” Maxwell complies and steps back mouth agape. “How do you know that I was thinking about what you know, that I didn't know, but now I know, and you know that I know, but you just found out that I know what I didn't know which you already knew?” Hana shakes her head and squeezes Maxwell's shoulder. “Just a guess seeing your current enthusiasm, and manic force of energy.” She winks at Drake who has caught up to them giving her a “save me” look.

“Now let's get our luggage, check-in to the hotel and grab something to eat.” Hana gently takes control. “And Maxwell,” Drake says seriously while looking into the hyperactive eyes of the guy in front of him, “absolutely no caffeine in any form for the rest of the day. I’d rather not strangle you…today at least.” Hana gives Drake a pointed stare.” “Guys, all of this is to clear Kristina's name and hopefully bring her back to Cordonia. We all miss our best friend so much, and hopefully we can also give her and Maxwell chance to figure things out. So let’s all get along.” “Fine” Drake huffs. “But you are responsible for him.” She sighs a happy sigh, “It's good to be back together. Now onward and upward to get our girl back.” Hana skips ahead.

The three settle into their hotel rooms ordering room service delivered to Hana’s room. While eating they catch up on their lives since the Coronation Night, which mainly meant letting Maxwell know what has been happening while he locked himself away from the world. Drake was actually there for it all, so he was tuning in and out of the conversation.

Hana explains to Maxwell that once she returned home to Shanghai her parents were less than pleased with what they considered the most major failure of their family’s life due to her fruitless Social Season. Soon after her arrival home her parents started working on finding a match for Hana themselves. Fortunately a few weeks later she was called back to court with the offer that there were possible “advantageous matches” she shouldn't miss. She knew without a doubt the invitation was facilitated by the new King.

Her parents were quite pleased and allowed Hana return almost immediately when the offer was received. With Kristina gone and Kiara as the future queen they saw a perfect opportunity for her return. When back in Cordonia she spent her time working with Drake to find Tariq and hopefully Kristina. Several “potential matches” Kiara knew that would appease Hana’s parents gave them time for their search. Maxwell showed his concern for Hana, but Hana knew she would deal with the consequences from her parents. She also thought a real match might be possible since there was no more pressure to marry a prince. Really she desperately wanted her best friend back and to happy together more than anything. What Hana kept to herself was the hope that she might be able to stay as Kiara had briefly mentioned a place for her in the palace. It was allowed for Drake, why not her too?

Once they had finished eating Hana explained the events of the Royals since Kristina was dragged out of the palace. Some parts Maxwell knew, as there news that was impossible to escape from with Bertrand around. For instance, Liam had chosen Lady Kiara, a surprise to all for certain, for his queen. More surprising was that the King Father was quite happy with the match. With her intelligence, diplomatic background, communication abilities, and her father’s connections Lady Kiara brought more to the position of queen than any of the other suitors. Plus she had, what Liam sensed of the remaining suitors, the best temperament for the role of his queen. The Queen Mother on the other hand was not as pleased with the match of course, as Madeleine lost the crown for a second, and final, time. Though she couldn't deny the qualities Lady Kiara possessed, which meant ultimately she had no say.

Then Hana began to patiently answer Maxwell's incessant questions on things important to him which he did miss while ignoring his friend’s attempts to contact him. “Hana, has Liam really fallen out of love with Kristina? I mean I find it hard to believe considering all I saw with him in New York, and with her beyond. Bertrand and I were certain he was going to, well going to propose to her.” Maxwell looked at Hana in disbelief. Hana continued, “While Liam was certainly heartbroken losing the chance of possible true love, he still put his country first.” Drake added in a sort of bitter tone, “I don't think there was any surprise in that. Country and responsibilities first. No matter the circumstances, even if the love of his life was literally dragged out of the palace and sent back to America. Of course he would still choose country.”

Maxwell looks out the window before he speaks again. “Yeah Drake, but I still seriously cannot believe he just falls out of love and lets her go. That there was a Prince, going to be King, who seemed to be head over heels for Kristina, but she doesn't end up loving him or wanting him. That she supposedly loved me. Things like this don't happen. Especially for screw ups like me.” Hana saw the hurt the behind his his eyes and lightly put a hand on his knee, while Drake went to the mini bar. “Did I just waste that whole damn plane ride. You got off the plane on cloud nine and now we're basically back to square one. I need whisky.” Drake just shakes his head. Hana turns sharply to Drake while in a calm, even voice. “What, do you expect Drake. That Maxwell, who is just processing all of this would immediately suspend all his disbelief and uncertainty. Don't we all question the prospect of love even if we are hit with it by a two by four?” Drake turns to the window, “Fine, fine. Just get on with this.”

Hana continues. “With Kiara’s abilities made obvious to court, and figuring that he and Kiara were amiable, Liam decided that there was no way to know what the future could hold for himself and Kiara. She is a lovely woman with fantastic qualities for his Queen. So yes Maxwell, no matter if it was love or infatuation he had with the new possibilities of love I can believe that he chose Kiara honestly.” Maxwell contemplated the answers he was given and went to his next question. “So, if we find Tariq, get him to give the statement and convince Kristina to come home, how are we certain this works…” he hangs his head, “…for her and me?” Drake takes this one, “You don't. Who ever does, but if you give up after all I’ve done up to this point I will leave you here in LA, and have you find your own way back home. So quit the moping again, and just press on with all of this.” Hana sighs, “While Drake has a somewhat harsh and tangled point, we do just have to go by faith. But we know you love her, and as her best friend I truly believe in my heart that I’m right about her loving you.”

Hana continues. “ I can't deny that Liam will always hold a special place in his heart for Kristina, but things do change with time. Much to our surprise, Kiara amazed him by understanding his need for Kristina in his life. Not to be mistaken as any kind of “arrangement”, but Kiara sees a friendship for both Liam and herself with Kristina.” Maxwell interrupts, “But why? That makes no sense. Well, none of this sounds believable. Especially when there are kings and queens involved. How can I even have a place in this story? So Kiara is just ok with all this, and Liam accepts it all?” Drake looks at Hana and thinks to himself, How on earth is this woman so patient with him? “Maxwell, during the Social Season Kiara became to enjoy Kristina, and even formed an alliance with her. She also saw the bond that we,” Hana points to the three of them, “that we all share. Plus she is not a fool. She saw the spark in Kristina's eyes whenever you were together. You've got to admit you two spent pretty much everyday together. Reading people and their body language is kind of a major part of the diplomatic side of her. And with that Kiara doesn't see Kristina a threat. Plus, if we get Kristina back to you, we all benefit. That works for a woman with a diplomatic mind, like Kiara.”

Maxwell thinks for awhile, trying to believe all this information. Finally Drake breaks in, “Beaumont, I need more whiskey, so think on your own time. I say we walk the area to see where we are in reference to the locations we have for Tariq and then find a bar. With lots and lots of whiskey.” The two agree with him and leave the hotel. While Hana and Drake look at maps on their phones and discuss where they will start the search in the morning, Maxwell drops behind them with his mind going in a thousand different directions which are on top of the normal thousands of thoughts he has all the time. So, I need to try. Going home now would just be wrong, right? Yeah, I can do this. It may actually work out, and I’m already here and can't sit back anymore or I lose her for sure. Ok. Drake is right…I’m pressing on.

#the royal romance #choices trr #choices the royal romance #maxwell x mc #maxwell beaumont x mc #maxwell beaumont #trr maxwell x mc

17 notes · View notes

moretomhardy · 6 years ago

Text

Another random sterek AU because why not

Fandom: Teen Wolf  Pairing: Derek/Stiles  Words: 1,974  Rating: General/Teen  Content Notes: TW for self-harm, since werewolves are careless with their bodies

Summary: The Hales host a bi-annual gathering of supernatural creatures at their home. This is the first times Stiles shows up.

“Derek, sweetheart, we’ve just had a family of kelpies arrive -- you don’t happen to have any seafood in here, do you?” Mom burst through the door and swung open the fridge door, shuffling through the contents.

“Mom, relax.” Derek nudged her out of the fridge and shut it. “Kelpies tend to eat everything and usually have a preference for turf over surf. Did anyone ask them what they wanted?”

“That’s a relief,” Mom sighed, leaning back against the counter. “Laura’s talking to them now, she should be down any minute with specifics. I was afraid we were going to horribly offend them by not having fish on the menu.”

“I bought some salmon in case of emergency,” Derek returned to stirring the pot of sauce he was reducing, “but the water sprites are the only creatures that I know of in our area that will demand fish, and I have their minnows ready to go.”

“Good, okay.” Mom took a deep breath and let the tension bleed out of her shoulders.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Mama.” Derek stood on his toes to peck a kiss to the top of her head. “Now get out of here, people are going to start missing you.”

Mom wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure I can’t stay down here with you? It’s so quiet and peaceful.”

Derek barked a short laugh. “I can give you something to chop if you want, but don’t fool yourself into thinking you won’t be terribly bored in less than five minutes.”

“Sometimes I hate that I raised intelligent children,” Mom sighed. “Fine, I’ll get out of your hair.” She reached out and rubbed a hand over Derek’s neck and shoulder. “Let me know if you need any help and I’ll send Cora back.”

“I’m fine for now, but I’ll let you know.”

Mom nodded and swept her hair out of her face before sweeping herself out through the swinging kitchen doors.

Derek pulled out the fifteenth head of cabbage for the afternoon and started chopping.

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

Laura charged through the doors maybe twenty minutes later, eyes bleeding red around the pupil.

Derek dropped his knife and wiped his blood-smudged hands on a towel before reaching for Laura. She met him halfway, pulling him into her chest and rubbing her cheek along Derek’s face.

“Sorry,” she murmured, hands squeezing bruises into Derek’s torso. “Just met my first vampire and I’m having this powerful urge to run him out of our territory.”

“It’s okay.” Derek pressed himself closer to Laura and let her tuck his head under her chin, even though it was awkward position now that he was taller than her. “He wouldn’t come to a peaceful gathering to try and start something.”

“I know that.” Laura buried her face in the crook of Derek’s neck and took a deep, bracing breath. “He feels too settled here, like he’s trying to claim the land. It pisses off my alpha side.”

“He is allowed to live here, and even claim territory as long as it’s not within the preserve.”

“I never claimed it was a reasonable urge,” Laura grumbled. “I just have to get used to him. I made Cora go talk to him so that I wouldn’t start a turf war.”

“That was a good idea.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Laura loosened her grip on Derek. “I think your sauce is starting to burn.”

“It’s definitely burnt.” Derek rubbed his cheek against her collarbone one last time before pulling away. He wrinkled his nose as he pulled the burning sauce off of the stove and dumped it down the sink. Cora pushed her way through the doors as Derek was rinsing out the pot to start over.

“Laura’s vampire said he’s good with a steak as rare as you can get it while still making it look cooked, plus any root vegetables you might have on hand.”

“That’s doable.” Derek stepped over to the fridge to see what he could find in the way of the vegetables. “Did he say where he was from? I didn’t know we had any vampires in the area.”

“He said he had moved back home to Beacon Hills recently. I kinda got the feeling that he was turned against his wishes while he was away.”

Derek frowned as he started chopping the handful of beets and new potatoes he had found. “Do you know how long ago?”

Cora shrugged. “He said he grew up here, left for college, and had to stay away until he got a handle on the new lifestyle. I didn’t want to push too hard on the details.”

“If he grew up here, that explains why he has such a strong connection to the land,” Laura said. “That’s a relief, I thought we were going to have some trouble on our hands.”

“Just because he grew up here doesn’t mean he isn’t going to start trouble.” Derek drizzled some olive oil and spices on the diced vegetables before throwing them into a skillet.

“Yeah, and just because he makes Laura’s alpha senses tingle doesn’t mean he is going to start trouble, either,” Cora snorted.

Derek frowned at Cora and then at the flatiron steak he had pulled out of the refrigerator. “You think I should season it?” he asked.

“How should we know,” Cora rolled her eyes, “you’re the big fancy chef.”

Derek scowled at her before turning to Laura, who shrugged.

“I’m seasoning it,” he decided. “If he doesn’t like it he can send it back.”

“That’s the spirit,” Laura chuckled while Derek rifled through the spice drawer. He had never intentionally tried to enhance the flavor of blood in a steak, so that was something new; he rubbed in the spices and threw the steak into a hot cast iron skillet.

Derek stirred the vegetables while watching the steak. He flipped it after a minute or so. The other side got the same treatment, then Derek popped his claws to hold the hot steak vertically and get a sear on all of the edges. After that, he deemed the meat done and set in on a covered plate to rest while he finished up the vegetables.

Cora had drifted away while the steak was still cooking, bored with the situation. Derek looked over at Laura while he finished up the vegetables and got everything on a plate.

"Are you up to seeing the vampire again?" he asked.

Laura hesitated, chewing on her lip.

"Don't worry about it," Derek said, "I'll take it up to him."

"That would probably be for the best," Laura allowed. "He gets my hackles up for some reason."

"No need to take an unnecessary risk."

They both cocked their heads toward the door as Mom called for Laura upstairs.

"I'd better go see what that's about." Laura hurried out of the kitchen and Derek pulled some cutlery and a napkin out of a drawer. He thought about bringing up a glass of water to go with the food, then thought he could offer the vampire something he might find a little more appetizing. Derek grabbed an empty glass and made his way upstairs and out to the backyard where the guests were seated.

He looked around the yard, feeling a little stupid that he hadn't gotten at least a description of the vampire from Laura before she left. Then his eyes caught on an unfamiliar, pale young man sitting alone at a table on the edge of the lawn and figured he might have found the vampire anyways. He wasn’t able to pick out the sound of any heartbeat as he walked over, which was a point in favor of his theory. He stopped at the edge of the table and the man looked up at him, smiling slightly.

Derek realized he was also missing the vampire's name, something else he should have gotten from Laura before coming up. "You're the vampire?"

The man grinned. "That's me. I usually go by Stiles, though."

Derek grunted and set the plate down in front of Stiles, keeping a hold of the glass for now. "Cora said you wanted a rare steak and some root vegetables, so I did my best. I haven't cooked for a vampire before, so I'm not sure what your stance on seasoning your food is. If you don't like it I can take it back and do it again plain."

"This looks great," Stiles's smile had widened during Derek's speech. "Beets are my favorite vegetable, actually."

"I figured a vampire would like beets. Red, rich, vaguely fleshy texture."

Stiles snorted. "Well, thanks, dude."

"It's Derek. And." Derek slammed the glass down on the table before he lost his nerve, keeping his hand over the top of the glass and turning the inside of his wrist towards Stiles. "If you want, I could offer you something to drink."

Stiles looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Chef special," Derek added when Stiles stayed frozen. He hoped he hadn't offended him.

A giggle slipped out of Stiles' mouth. "Oh my god, dude, Derek, are you just casually offering me your blood?"

Derek shrugged. "I've got some to spare."

"This is -- okay." Stiles took a deep breath. "That sounds delicious, thank you, Derek."

Derek nodded and popped the claws on the hand not covering the glass. Stiles watched with fascination as Derek dug two claws into his arm and dragged upwards, opening up a good-sized gash in his arm that bled freely for several seconds. Stiles' glass was only a third full when Derek's body mended itself so Derek repeated the cut, going a little deeper and longer than before. That slice got the glass pretty close to full by the time it healed. Derek was about to wipe his fingers and forearm on the towel he still had slung over his shoulder when Stiles make an abortive motion and asked,

"Can I... clean you off?"

Derek frowned and looked between Stiles and his bloody arm, where Stiles' attention was fixed. "You want to lick me?" Derek asked.

"In so many ways, yes."

Derek felt his face flame into a blush. "Um." He looked down at his bloody hands.

"Sorry," Stiles said when the silence between them started to stretch. "That's probably super inappropriate. Forget I said anything, please."

"That's, um." Derek cleared his throat and pulled his towel off of his shoulder, slowly wiping off his hand and forearm. "Maybe another time, somewhere less public."

"What, really?" Stiles asked. His eyes were wide when Derek chanced a glance over at him.

"Yes," Derek decided. Laura was always telling him he needed to take more chances, after all.

"That's -- wow, uh, can I give you my phone number?" Stiles scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket.

"How about I give you mine." Derek plucked Stiles' phone out of his hands as soon as he had it unlocked and made a new contact for himself. He smiled as he handed the phone back to Stiles.

"Awesome." Stiles took his phone back. "You'll definitely be hearing from me."

"Are you gonna try it?" Derek gestured at Stiles' plate.

"Yes, definitely." Stiles picked up the glass of blood and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath over the mouth of the glass. He took a long sip and groaned in satisfaction as he swallowed.

Derek stared at Stiles as he opened his eyes and grinned up at him. "Delicious," Stiles said, blood staining the crevices between his teeth.

"That's --" Derek swallowed hard and crossed his hands in front of his hips as his blood started rushing south. "That's not what I meant."

"No?" Stiles' grin widened.

"Um, I've got to get back to the kitchen." Derek turned tail and fled before he could make a fool of himself any further, the sound of Stiles' laughter following after him.

#sterek #sterek fic #eternalsterek #vampire!stiles #chef!derek #convention au #mth writes #self harm

71 notes · View notes

ranissupercool · 6 years ago

Text

Tenshi’s Pretty Nice - Ch. 1

Fandom: Touhou Characters: Hinanawi Tenshi, Kazami Yuuka Relationships: Platonic YuukaTenshi Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 2,506 Summary: Yuuka Kazami gets a visit from some delinquent celestial. Surprisingly enough, things don't go too horribly between them.

This is the first and currently only chapter, which will be added onto at my own leisure. Ships are currently undecided, but things will get gay in future chapters. Most likely.

Read on Ao3! (recommended; my current blog theme isn’t great for fic reading)

“You, with the watering can! You’re Kazami Yuuka, right?”

“...And who is asking, exactly?” The youkai who was indeed named Kazami Yuuka raised an eyebrow as she looked from her garden to… well, she wasn’t really sure what she was looking at here. A girl with a glowing sword standing on a giant floating rock? Kids sure were getting weird, nowadays…

“Oh, me? Hinanawi Tenshi, of course! I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

She seemed self-important, didn’t she. The name did ring a bell, though. “Yes, I believe I have. What was it they said about you? Right, a ‘useless celestial who only caused trouble’. Those were the Hakurei’s words, mind you.”

“E-- Eh? Wait, she said that about me?” The loud girl suddenly became quiet, giving a small yet pitiful frown that made even Yuuka somewhat uncomfortable. After the first impression she’d just been given, she didn’t expect that kind of reaction.

“...Anyways, why are you here? It seemed like you needed me for something.”

“O-Oh! Yeah! I wanted to challenge you, Kazami Yuuka, to a duel!” Apparently trying to pretend the previous bit of the conversation just didn’t happen, she flipped her hair behind her shoulder and grinned at Yuuka. “There’s so many lowly plebs here on the surface that it’s been so hard finding a decent challenge around here. I hear you’re not bad with danmaku, yeah? I wanna see if you’re close to my skill level.”

“Is that so.” Yuuka gave it some thought, eyeing the rock floating dangerously close to her garden. “Let me finish watering everything, and I suppose I could indulge you. As long as you behave.”

“I gotta wait? How annoying…”

Yuuka shrugged and continued with her watering. Of course, she had to keep an eye on Tenshi, but she didn’t seem in too much of a rush despite her complaint. “Patience is a virtue. As I’m sure you know already.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know, I could totally get everything here and in the field watered really fast. I can summon rain, you know? Although only as a thunderstorm.”

“Are we going to duel in the middle of a storm, then? That doesn’t sound very pleasant.”

“That’s… not what I was going for, but that sounds really fun, actually.”

“I’d rather not. Just wait, alright?”

Yuuka saw Tenshi shrug out of the corner of her eye, muttering “maybe another time” as the conversation trailed off. The rest of the plant-watering went smoothly, Tenshi simply sitting and watching. By the time she’d finished and exchanged the watering can for her usual parasol, Yuuka could tell that Tenshi was getting rather antsy.

“Right, then. If you’d come with me?” She led Tenshi off to a nearby open area where fighting would be much less likely to damage any flowers or the like, then turned and gave her a smile. “You were much more behaved than I expected, considering your apparent reputation. I’ve got plenty of time now, so I can play as much as you’d like… though I can’t promise I’ll be exactly what you’re expecting from me.”

“Pssh. I’m only a troublemaker when I want to cause trouble,” Tenshi stated smugly. Yuuka wasn’t so sure, but she wouldn’t argue the point. “Y’know, somehow, I get the feeling you’re looking at me like I’m just some kid that wants to play. That’s fine, though~ Just means this is an opportunity to teach you just how strong a noble celestial such as myself can be. Now then, come at me and don’t hold back!”

…

Yuuka kneeled down in front of the fallen celestial, Tenshi staring past her into the sky. Along with that, she had a satisfied smile on her face, seeming a lot more relaxed than she had been since approaching Yuuka in the first place. “So? Are you finished?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I can move anymore. My whole body hurts!”

“You say that with such a smile on your face. Are you some sort of masochist?”

“Mas what? What’s that?”

...Ah. Yuuka had been intending to tease Tenshi a little, but the genuine confusion in Tenshi’s voice caught her off-guard. “Don’t worry about it. I must compliment you, though; you lasted much longer than most I’ve dueled with.”

“Mm.” Tenshi took her eyes away from the clouds in the sky to meet Yuuka’s eyes. “Celestials have much stronger bodies than most mortals. I’d like to think I’m particularly tough among us, so my body can take lots of abuse!”

Frowning, Yuuka brought her hands down underneath Tenshi’s arms and lifted her up into a sitting position. “Don’t say that so proudly. Your fighting technique, while not unimpressive, is still very much lacking the finesse I would expect of a celestial, and you’re rather predictable, at that. Not to mention reckless.”

“Whadd’ya mean reckless?”

“What kind of spell card battle involves people hurling rocks around like that? Your nose is bleeding from when you accidentally hit yourself in the face with one.”

“O-Okay, fair point. Is it really?” Tenshi reached up and wipe a bit of blood from her face and onto her hand to see. “Oh. It is. Whoops…”

At that moment, a very unsubtle growling sound came from Tenshi’s stomach, loud enough for the both of them to hear.

“...Come on.” Yuuka giggled at the light blush tinting Tenshi’s cheeks, then took Tenshi’s non-bloodied hand and helped her up. “Let me take you inside and get you fixed up. If you’d like, you can stay for dinner as well.”

“Uh… S-- Sure? Yeah, that’d be nice…”

Yuuka brought a dazed Tenshi into her house, the walk not being long since they’d met just outside of it to begin with. She left Tenshi for a moment to grab some bandages and things, and she got to work patching Tenshi up as soon as she returned.

“...You know, you’re a lot different than I expected you to be,” Tenshi admitted as Yuuka treated one of the two whole knees that she’d skinned in the fight. “Most of the people I asked said you were dangerous and that I shouldn’t go looking for you. I expected someone more scary, I guess?”

“Are you disappointed?”

“N-- No, nothing like that. Just, uh… Geez, I dunno. I don’t know why I brought it up…”

“Well, it’s true that a lot of people think those things about me. I wouldn’t necessarily say they’re far off, exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

Yuuka smirked and leaned in, whispering into Tenshi’s ear, “How naive… I’ve gotten you defenseless and at my mercy, haven’t I? And you came into my house without questioning a thing.”

“E-- Eh?” She noticed Tenshi tense, and she pulled back away to look at her. Her face had reddened slightly, and it was rather clear that she was at a loss for words.

“Too easy,” Yuuka said simply, giving Tenshi a pat on the head. “Relax. I’m kidding.”

Tenshi still seemed unsure what to say, but she was at least relieved, letting out a small sigh. How cute… not to mention easy to read.

“...Or am I?” At the startled look on the other’s face, Yuuka chuckled.

“Wha-- H-Hey, not funny! Besides, you think I’d be scared of you? No way!”

“Let’s not forget just how beaten-up you are right now. And I came out completely unscathed.”

“Th-That’s not true…” Yuuka could see Tenshi desperately looking over her form for any injuries. She waited for Tenshi to do so until her wrist was unexpectedly grabbed. “Right, here! You’re bleeding, see?”

“What?” Yuuka, rather confused, looked down at her arm and didn’t at all see what Tenshi was trying to point out. “And where, exactly, might this blood be…?”

“Er, I guess it is kinda dried up by now, and it’d be hard to see…” Leaning over a bit, Tenshi reached to the back of her upper arm and pressed down on a specific spot-- not quite a cut, but likely a pretty bad scrape, causing sudden pain and a small grunt from Yuuka.

Of course, she wouldn’t just admit that it hurt, so she kept a straight face as she replied, “Oh. I didn’t notice.” She hadn’t, and it didn’t even hurt very much now, either. She’d just been startled.

��Seriously? I bet you’re just trying to act tough… Gimme that.” She took the bandage roll from Yuuka. “Now turn around and take your shirt off.”

“That’s… not really necessary… Do you even know what you’re doing with that?”

“Duh, it’s not that hard. Now c’mon. You did me, so lemme do you.”

Yuuka sighed, then turned away from Tenshi and removed her shirt. She did sort of want to see the damage done to the article of clothing, anyways, and how much of a pain it would be to fix up. Gah, bloodstains… With that, Tenshi began to wrap up her wound pretty much immediately.

...She really didn’t know what she was doing, huh. Well, whatever. It wasn’t very comfortable, but Yuuka would just let her do whatever, for now. Later, she’d have to show her how to properly treat wounds, though, if this girl was going to get into fights as frequently as it seemed.

Soon enough, she was shoddily bandaged up and Tenshi chuckled, patting Yuuka’s arm carelessly. She was lucky Yuuka was so tolerant to pain… “There we go, good as new!”

“Right… Do you have any preferences for dinner?”

“Uhh… I dunno, not really. Just no peaches! I’ve decided that I won’t be eating peaches while I’m on the surface.”

“...Hm?” Yuuka raised an eyebrow, turning back to Tenshi with a dubious expression. “Didn’t... you eat a peach during our duel? Not to mention another one seems to have grown in its place on your hat...”

“Ah, no, that’s different. That was a heaven peach, and it was a part of my spell card. It’s a body toughening-type thing. But all heaven really has is peaches, so I want to try a lot of different foods while I’m here. I’ve basically forgotten what most things taste like, since it’s all been drowned out by peaches and sake.”

“Well, alright, that’s doable. Just don’t expect anything incredibly exotic… I’ll get started on cooking now, alright? You can wait here. Walking around the house is fine, just don’t snoop or take anything...”

Tenshi hummed in acknowledgement, and Yuuka left to make dinner. What exactly to make, though…?

Well, no reason to do anything over-the-top. Something simple should be fine, since it didn’t seem like Tenshi had eaten many different sorts of foods to begin with. Would something like pork or chicken be fine?

...Was meat fine for celestials to eat? Maybe she should have asked earlier. Although- if sake was fine, meat probably was too.

Midway through the cooking, Tenshi wandered into the kitchen. She leaned over some counter space Yuuka wasn’t using and watched her for a moment before speaking up.

“I got bored waiting, so can I help?”

“Not really,” Yuuka replied without hesitation. Maybe a little hastily-- Tenshi frowned, looking rather offended at being shot down so quickly. “I’ve already done most of what I could be helped with, I mean. Besides, I doubt you have much experience with this sort of thing.”

“...Meh, can’t argue that, I guess.”

“If you really want something to do, you could set the table…” She gestured towards the dining table. “Make sure it’s clean, though. I don’t use it a lot, so it collects dust sometimes…”

“Got iiiiit,” Tenshi replied, sounding very unenthusiastic for someone who was asking to help out in the first place. With a few minor instructions on where things are and where things should be set, dinner was soon made and served, both Yuuka and Tenshi taking seats adjacent to each other.

“Whoah, this really smells nice. Is this some kind of meat?” Tenshi asked, poking at her food with her chopsticks.

“It’s pork, yes. Is that fine?”

Tenshi quickly nodded. “Yeah, for sure. I haven’t eaten meat in like, forever. I just uh, expected you to be some kind of vegetarian, I guess, somehow.” Yuuka shrugged. Was it just because of the green…? She was a youkai, after all, and vegetarian youkai weren’t exactly common. “Well anyways, thanks a bunch--” With that, she dug in. After confirming that Tenshi wasn’t going to get carried away and choke on anything, Yuuka began to eat as well.

It was a nice dinner. Small talk occasionally cropped up, most instances of such initiated by Tenshi, but it was probably the quietest she’d been since she suddenly appeared to Yuuka earlier. Of course, that was only because her mouth was busy getting stuffed with food…

Her food finished and Tenshi’s long gone, Yuuka stood and took the dishes off of the table and to the sink to wash them.

“Oh yeah, Yuuka?”

“Mm?”

“You never told me what a masochist was.”

“...I didn’t.”

“Well, I still wanna know. Tell me.”

Yuuka rolled her eyes. What weird timing, as well… “Ask one of your other friends. I’m sure they would explain it better than myself,” she replied, not wanting to deal with this. Besides, it would be pretty funny if she actually did do that…

“Yeah? Well, alright… It wasn’t some kinda insult, right?”

“Are you worried about that?”

“W-Well--” Tenshi let out a huff, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. “Not worried. Just wondering.”

“Hmhm. It’s not an insult.”

Tenshi had a skeptical look as she peered over at Yuuka. “...If you say so. But if I hear it is, I’m gonna come back here and kick your ass.”

“Mhm, mhm. I’m sure you will.”

“...” Tenshi went quiet after that for quite some time, and just when Yuuka had finished up the dishes and was wondering when Tenshi was going to be leaving, she stood from her seat. “Well, I can probably go home now… Or rather, should, I guess. It’s getting pretty late.”

“Indeed.” Yuuka found herself wondering exactly whether it was fine for someone like Tenshi to just be hanging around on Earth with no supervision, but she figured it wasn’t worth questioning. Besides, despite her “delinquent” reputation, she was well-behaved at Yuuka’s home, and that’s all she really cared about. “You’ll be fine getting home by yourself, I presume?”

“Yep. See ya.” She strolled on over to the door with a lazy wave, and just like that, Tenshi left. Yuuka was alone again, and though Tenshi’s company was surprisingly pleasant, she still let out a small sigh of relief. She could relax now, hopefully...

Well, only for a minute or so, after which the door was hastily re-opened, Tenshi poking her head in. “I forgot, but I’m totally coming back for a rematch later, okay? You’d better be ready!”

Before Yuuka could respond, the door was shut again. She stood where she was for a good couple of minutes just to make sure Tenshi wasn’t going to abruptly pop in again, before cracking a small smile and chuckling.

What a weirdo.

#touhou #tenshi hinanawi #yuuka kazami #fanfiction #ranfic

4 notes · View notes