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megamindsecretlair · 6 months ago

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Runaway Lover, Part 3

Pairing: Professor!Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink, all consensual. Power imbalance. Spoilers for the Red Rising Saga by Pierce Brown.

Summary: Having to see Stunna day in and day out is physical torture. So much so that you have to take matters into your hands. However, once Stunna learns that, he has an alternative to benefit you both.

Word Count: 7,193k

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: WHEW, I needed this in my life. They're so cute, I can't stand them. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! Artists need it for their enrichment.

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @nworbaij @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @blackpinup22 @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal @liyaah02 @monaeesstuff @amethyst09 @harmshake @satoruya @theunsweetenedtruth @ciaqui

If there were nine circles of hell, you were most certainly in the tenth. Stunna walked in thirty minutes ago wearing a delicious black outfit. It was simple. A black polo shirt, black slacks, no show socks, and white tennis shoes. He wore a few rings, gold bracelets, and a gold necklace peeked out from his collar.

He was, in a word, completely sexy without even trying. And it was absolutely wrecking you. True to your word, you didn’t wear anything provocative. You didn’t wear dresses or skirts, just a heavy rotation of leggings and graphic T-shirts.

But you thought that he was still checking you out. That you caught little glimpses of him smirking or his eyes roving over you.

Stunna did not keep his word, however. He continued showing up to class like he was being interviewed for television that day. All of his outfits had been cataloged thoroughly by you and likely by every other person in the class.

The first week without him was torture beyond compare. The second week felt like your chest was getting cracked open. You saw him a few times a week and you had agreed to not text him. To not call him. And try like hell to not think about him.

That lasted for about…two classes. Before you were running back to your dorm in the middle of the day and letting your vibrator work off some of those nasty thoughts from class. The vibrator was good but paled in comparison to the size of his massive dick.

It couldn’t compare to his hands running over you, manhandling you, or to his filthy words whispered in your ear. You looked away from him unless he saw the look all over your face. But just like with everything else, he seemed connected to you on a deeper level.

His eyes found yours and his jaw flexed. You clenched your thighs and shifted in your seat. Catching on, Stunna cleared his throat and moved across the floor towards a podium. He got everyone’s attention.

“I hope you all did the reading assignment because I want you to break into smaller groups and share your thoughts about the latest chapters. We have enough for about three to a group, I’ll let you pick since you’re adults. But please, if you’re going to partner with friends, actually discuss something about the book,” he said.

That caused a few giggles but your stomach only sank. You didn’t truly have friends in this class. You weren’t the type that was friendly to everyone simply because you were taking the same class.

“Wanna be my partner?” The strawberry blond girl next to you said. You were pretty sure her name was…Samantha?

“Sure,” you said. You didn’t really. You didn’t want her to spontaneously start talking about Stunna. Sitting through his class was bad enough. But pretending like his initials weren’t sewn into your heart was another level of acting that you weren’t great at.

She had recruited someone else, a boy named Khalil that almost rivaled Stunna in good looks. He was lighter with a fade, strong jaw, and a football player build with big arms, narrow waist, and powerful legs. If you weren’t already spoken for, you’d be crushing on him. As it were, no other guy did it for you now.

You introduced yourself formally to him and he smiled. His smile was cute. But nowhere near as devastating as Stunna.

For the next couple of minutes, you discussed the book from the homework assignment. You talked about what you liked and didn’t like about the characters. You heard Stunna moving about the room, checking in with groups and posing challenging questions.

You dreaded the moment he made it to your group. “What you think about using Reds as an entire labor force? Keeping them ignorant, dumb, and too stupid to see that they weren’t getting any closer to the dream?” Khalil asked.

You turned your head to him, confusion likely flitting across your face. You didn’t mean to be biased, but you hadn’t thought he’d have something intelligent to say. He was as quiet as you and you saw him doodling most of the class.

He smirked. “I’m not all good looks,” he said.

You rolled your eyes at the joke and shook your head. “I find it funny that a lot of these sci-fi authors can understand using people for labor is wrong, highlighting the conditions they’re under, and the sheer insidiousness of oppression, but lack any real Black people in their books.”

“Then again, do you really want the Reds to be Black? They damn sure ain’t gonna have any Black golds,” Khalil said.

You laughed, because sadly that's the truth. The Red Rising Saga was an interesting series, but honestly, adult sci-fi writers bored you to tears. They were so stuffy and too into their own wordy prose that they lost the whimsy. The excitement of exploring a new world.

You didn’t need to know every single soap at a market when the more interesting story was about the two main characters who had to find common ground.

Samantha looked completely lost, turning a shade of red that you didn’t think was possible. You stared at her, wondering if she would say anything. You weren’t going to do the work for her or give her an easy out. Khalil seemed of the same mindset as he looked at her as well.

“Well, I find it extremely noble that Darrow did all of this for his love,” Samantha said.

Coward. “Yeah but in this day and age, are we really still fridging women?” You asked.

She was saved from answering from a delicious aroma preceding an equally delicious man. Stunna interrupted, leaning against a desk near your group. He asked what you were discussing and you finally lifted your eyes to meet his.

Huge, huge mistake. You could get lost in those eyes of his. Like sitting underneath a dark night sky looking for stars. You smiled briefly at each other before you turned your attention to Samantha who turned a darker shade of red. Seriously, you were starting to get a little worried.

“We were…um…” She faltered as Stunna looked at her.

Again, jealousy reared its ugly head as she hemmed and hawed her way through a bullshit answer. But you saw the way that she tossed her hair back, batted her eyes. Giggled even though there wasn’t a damn thing funny about the book or your discussion.

“We were talking about the role of women in the book. How Io was fridged and even though there are other women, they are distinctly cold and calculating most of the time. In a society based heavily on Roman culture, it’s a wonder he bothered to put any women at all in it,” you said.

Stunna leaned back, turning his attention back on you. Whoops. You should have let Samantha fumble through her answer. Or better yet, have Khalil come to her rescue. Black dudes usually did after about five minutes of second hand embarrassment.

“I’m sure the author would have gotten flack for not including women or sending the dangerous message that women can’t perform in war games,” Stunna said.

“I’d rather they not do it at all. That’s better than having to sit through ten pages of pining because one of the main girls followed the winning side,” you said.

Just like that, it seemed like you and Stunna were the only two in the room. He listened, which was rare, but he seemed to genuinely think about what you were saying.

“So say you were there, fighting and trying to win the war games. What would you have done?” He asked.

You smirked and launched into all the things you would have done differently. The war games funneled down to a rivalry between two men who got personal. War wasn’t personal. Not when one of the qualifying tasks was killing someone and being let out into the wild with the survivors of their matches.

Stunna listened with rapt attention. You felt like beaming under it. He made you feel like the sun and your body warmed the more he asked more questions. He was clearly the more professional of the two of you, because he included Khalil and Samantha in the discussion as well.

“Good work, this is a good group,” Stunna said. He moved on to another group, passing by you once more. You gasped as he moved as if it were a physical weight on your heart for him to go too far away from you.

Samatha sighed loudly. “He must think I’m a total idiot. You two were so prepared. And me? Ugh. ‘Um, I think I would have aligned with Darrow’,” she said, mimicking her own voice.

“Your answers were just as good, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Khalil said. And there it was. Like clockwork. Goodness forbid she put herself down and has to live with it.

“Do you think he would even go for a student? Obviously not someone in his class, that’s wrong. But like…after?”

Khalil laughed and shook his head. “No, I doubt he’d risk his job for something that stupid. You have thousands of appropriate guys to choose from at this school,” Khalil said. He gave you a look, like he couldn’t believe Samantha was serious.

You smiled and shook your head. There was no way that Stunna would breathe in Samantha’s direction. Because he was already breathing in yours. Once more, you felt the weight of all that transpired in Punta Cana.

You had no way of knowing that you were boning your teacher, that couldn’t be held against you. The second time though…you still had flashbacks of getting bent over his couch and possessed. Owned. The way he staked his claim and made sure that there were no doubts in your head. You were sprung, in the worst way, and you didn’t know if you could make it to the end of the week without him. Let alone another ten.

Class winded down and Stunna congratulated everyone on their ideas and going deeper. Your cheeks burned. You were never going to think about anything else all day.

You had been sitting in a puddle of your own arousal since Stunna walked into the room. You needed to get to your daily sesh as soon as possible. Because the gold gleaming off of his skin was making you drool. You had already cooked up a pretty nasty fantasy in your head and you needed to get it out of your system or risk going crazy.

“I just want to remind you all that my office hours are open. Scheduling is preferred but if you need extra help, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Stunna said. Oh, make that two nasty fantasies in your head.

He let class out and while you packed up your things, Khalil got your attention. “I just wanted to say that I really liked what you were talking about in class. I know people start to roll they eyes when it comes to the role of women in books, but you’re right. Darrow wouldn’t be doing half that shit if his wife was still around,” he said.

“Thank you! I just kept thinking that the entire time I was reading. Like ugh. To be fair, the way she died was horrific as shit. That’d call anyone to drastic action.”

“See exactly! I..um,” Khalil said and licked his lips.

The class was nearly empty by now. You zipped up your bag and threw the strap over your shoulder. You were nearly bouncing with the desire to get with your vibrator. In a short amount of time, Stunna turned you into a sex fiend. Desperately chasing the high of having him inside you and soaking you with his cum.

You tilted your head at Khalil. If he didn’t spit this shit out, you were going to run him over.

“Is everything okay here?” Stunna asked.

You gasped, feeling caught or exposed. You wondered if your horniness was written plain as day on your face. The way you wanted to climb him in this outfit. You could see his skinny ass ankles and now you very much understood every regency show you watched. That bit of ankle was killing you.

“Yeah, yeah. Just talking about the book. I’ll, uh, see you later,” Khalil stammered and then disappeared so fast, there should have been smoke on his heels.

And now you were alone with Stunna. Dangerous. Dangerous territory.

“He seems nice,” Stunna said with a small smile.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you said, opting for a tease. You knew it was wrong. You had no reason to doubt the way Stunna felt for you. But being apart from him was killing you. You had no way of knowing if the time apart made him realize how inappropriate this was. If it was better to cancel the 12 week waiting period and move on.

The silent gasp stole all the breath in your lungs. Thinking about not being with him instantly made you dizzy.

“If I was? Would it change anything?” He asked.

“No,” you said, your voice small as you looked at him. This shit sucked. It sucked, it sucked, it sucked. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to throw your arms around him and hug him at least. Damn. You couldn’t even touch him without risk of it leading to rumors.

“I miss you,” he said softly.

“I miss you,” you said.

You stood and stared into each other’s eyes, a mirror of loneliness and wanting.

“You don’t have to be jealous. You know that,” you said.

Stunna ran a hand down his face, looking weary. You hated this. You hated that you couldn’t comfort him. You wanted to hold his hand and walk across the beach again.

“Doesn’t change the fact that I am. That he’d be more appropriate than I would,” he said.

You swallowed around the huge, dry lump in your throat. You didn’t want to call attention to the elephant in the room. You didn’t want to think about the end. Your anxiety leapt off with all the implications of his words.

“Are you…saying that we…” God, you couldn’t even get the words out. Tears were already burning and you were not an easy crier.

“No! Fuck no! Hell no!” He said. He sighed and folded his arms across his chest. There were too many conflicting emotions. You needed your brain and heart to line up. Because while you were sad about a possible ending, you couldn’t help admiring the cut of his arms across his black outfit.

“I bought a calendar to mark off the end of class. You’re mine and I meant that,” he said.

You giggled to cover up how much you were desperate to hear that from him. “Good. Because so did I,” you said.

He laughed but it ended quickly as you went back to sharing and communicating without words. You ached to ask him what he’s been up to, what he’s been reading. You had a lifetime of his to catch up on and you wanted to know every single detail. But you didn’t have that kind of time.

“I should probably…” You said.

“For sure. My bad,” he said. He stood up, letting you pass. You smiled at him and took a few steps, that chain connecting you two growing taut.

“Can you come over tonight? I…miss you so fuckin’ much,” he said.

“I can’t…” You said.

“I know. I’m sorry for asking. That's not fair,” he said. He nodded and avoided looking at you.

You sighed. You needed to walk away. You needed to think about the bigger picture. If you two slipped, even once, it would spell disaster. All it would take is one person overhearing you, one person asking too many questions, one person catching the way you two looked at each other…

Your chemistry was a physical thing. You felt it every time you looked at him or thought about him. You weren’t sure if it was the same for him. If he felt this all consuming urge to run to you and never let you go. You were sure that his feelings were strong. But how strong?

Strong enough to survive a public scandal? He just got here. You refused to be the cause of him losing his job, ending up a national joke, or have this following him around for the rest of his career. He was just getting started. You couldn’t stand in the way of that. You wouldn’t.

Armed with that knowledge, you had just enough self-preservation to leave the room without another word. The shit hurt, like it always did. But then again, you and pain weren’t strangers. You said hello to your old friend, letting the ache wash over you and remind you that this was for Stunna. He would always come first.

“Dammit,” you huffed. You made it one month with no physical contact from Stunna. No text messages or dirty pictures to tide you over either. Just your imagination, horniness, and ole reliable. Until ole reliable stopped working mid sesh.

You clicked the button but the damn thing was gone. Finished. You really needed to get a rechargeable one but you would die trying to plug that thing in somewhere for a few hours. Stella and Angela would never let you live it down.

You tossed it on your bed and tossed on the nearest bottoms, a skirt that covered what it needed to. You went looking through your room for spare batteries. You just needed a little more time. You were soaked with sweat already, feeling like the nasty girl Stunna praised in Punta Cana.

Stunna gave a rare lecture today. Finished with one of the books on the list, he swerved into poetry. He talked about plays as well, Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe. He heard everyone’s groans, thinking Shakespeare was so high school.

But then Stunna had to go on and start reciting some of the words to Romeo and Juliet. He went on about how it really shouldn’t be taught to teenagers. Not because it was too complicated, but because teens needed to do a little growing up to appreciate Shakespeare’s words.

There needed to be a little heartbreak before it sunk in just how much these two wanted to be together but were separated by circumstance. God. He had the entire class melting with that one.

You especially. You felt like he was talking directly to you. The pining, the yearning of Romeo and Juliet. There was a reason that story had endured for hundreds of years. There was a reason he had to be the one to teach it.

“There’s beauty in yearning, isn’t there? Humans love to torture themselves but never more so when it comes to matters of the heart. Unrequited love, loving the wrong person, giving in to things that you know you shouldn’t. Indulging in something so bad but it makes you feel so good. That is why poetry exists. To shine a light on these moments,” he had said and fuck, you wanted to push him down on the desk and suck the soul out of his body.

You couldn’t get out of the classroom fast enough. Too keyed up. Too horny. Burning with the need to jump his bones but unable to do so. And now your vibrator wasn’t working and there wasn’t a damn battery in the fucking dorm.

You searched Angela and Stella’s rooms, not finding a shiny fucking Duracell. Does no one need batteries these days? You longed for the junk drawer at home that was always good for one more battery. It was magic and you missed it.

“Fuck,” you said. You went back to your room, leaning against the doorway. You had a very important executive decision to make. Your next class wasn’t for some time, but you didn’t have that much time. You needed to get off and had a hard time cumming with just your fingers.

You could walk away, but then…why deny yourself that pleasure? You were already denying yourself riding the tilt-a-whirl on Stunna’s dick and you couldn’t handle these thoughts in your head any longer.

It was a miracle you made it a month. You made sure not to linger after class anymore. You were weak. You could feel your resolve crumbling every time Stunna looked at you. Every time he spoke, joked, or engaged a different student in a friendly debate, you felt like stripping down, bending over, grabbing your ankles, and letting him have his wicked way with you. Other people in the room be damned.

Shit. You already answered your own question. If you couldn’t have him, then you needed Little Stunna. Yes, you named your vibrator after your incredibly hot and untouchable teacher and you’d take it to your grave.

You slipped into flip flops, grabbed your keys and wallet, and headed out of the dorm. You had time. You had time. You repeated this to yourself as you left the dorm building and headed across campus towards the bookstore.

It wasn’t the first time you’d gone commando but you felt like everyone could look at you and see what a horny pervert you were. You felt a spotlight burning into your back, broadcasting that you were just neck deep in a fantasy where you were a confused girl lost in the woods and Stunna was a half naked jungle man helping you find your way, with a pit stop on his dick.

Listen, Brandon Fraser pretty much ruined you for all other men until Stunna came along. You watched George of the Jungle one too many times. So much so, you had the campfire song from the movie etched into your memory.

I’ve been waiting for you all my life, hoping for a miracle

I’ve been waiting day and night, day and night

Would there ever be a moment that you didn’t relate absolutely everything back to Stunna? Probably not.

The bookstore was clean and fresh, somehow giving off an incredible Academia aroma that couldn’t be achieved anywhere else. It smelled like learning. Like school spirit.

It was blissfully empty and you made a beeline towards the technology section. You scanned for double A batteries, eyes lingering on other stuff. You debated if you should get another pack now or when you needed it.

You still had three more months to go. “Fuck,” you sighed. Three more months. They might as well tell you that you really were in the tenth circle of hell. You’d believe that an eternity at college, studying the same shit over and over, and staring at your untouchable hot professor was a punishment designed particularly for you.

Fuck it, you’d come back later when you weren’t a delicate mess at the moment. You couldn’t handle one more fucking thing…

You backed into the aisle and into someone solid. “I’m so sorry!” You screamed, turning around and staring up into Stunna’s beautiful face.

“I’m very sorry, I wasn’t looking,” he said. When it clicked that it was you he bumped into, he immediately stepped closer. His warm hands hovered around your arms like he wanted to steady you but knew he couldn’t touch you.

“I’m fine,” you squeaked. You wanted to die. He was the last person you needed to see at the moment. The absolute last.

You still had images of him in nothing but a loincloth fresh in your mind. Surrounded by dozens of animal pelts. You butterball naked and spread open for him. You rubbed your forehead. This shit wasn’t normal.

“You don’t seem fine,” he said, lowering his voice. “What are you picking up?”

You hid the batteries behind your back. You didn’t know if he saw them already, but best to pretend anyway. Pretend that you were here for something innocent and not because you were slutting him out in your fantasies.

“I got a little bored in between classes and thought I might pick up a book,” you said, totally making that shit up on the fly.

“A book,” Stunna repeated.

“Yup, we are in a bookstore,” you said with a nod, to prove your point.

“What kind of book?” He asked. He straightened up, clutching his own book to his chest absently. He smirked. You ought to have seen it for what it was and not encouragement to continue with your obvious lie.

“You know that one…mystery author I love,” you said, waving your hand around.

“Really? What’s their name, maybe I’ve heard of them,” he said.

You looked around for help, but you were at the back of the store. The academic bookshelves were behind him and faced horizontally. You could only see the end caps from where you were and there were no leisure books listed.

Those were all the way at the front of the store. Fuck. “Brain freeze,” you said and shrugged. You were painfully aware that you didn’t have any panties on, likely still had some of your essence between your thighs, and Stunna was right there.

He wore a plain olive green shirt, a cream sweater, and light brown pants. Once more his ankles were exposed, and his huge shoes. He looked damn good.

He checked you out as well, nose flaring at the skirt. He lifted an eyebrow to you. You folded your arms.

“I didn’t think I was going to bump into you. You can’t dictate my clothing choices all the time. I told you to dress like a bum,” you said.

“I gotta stay fly. What are the batteries for?” He asked.

Heat flooded through you, making the bookstore swelter even though air conditioning pumped out of the vents. You looked down at your folded arms and the batteries.

“Remotes. You know, you can’t have too many backups. Those damn things are constantly going out,” you lied again.

Stunna smirked and stepped forward. He towered over the short shelves. “What’s it really for?” He asked. He said your name and it sounded like both a plea and a demand all wrapped into one.

“For something I don’t wanna tell you about,” you said. Your cheeks were burning and your stomach did somersaults. It would win the Olympic gold medal four events in a row if it could.

“Why not?” He asked. He sounded so patient. So demanding. So in control that you couldn’t help the tiny sigh escaping.

“It’s crossing our line,” you said.

“Tell me anyway,” he said.

You couldn’t look at him as you finally said, “My vibrator ran out of juice while I was fucking myself with it,” you said.

The heat of his gaze made your body flush. “You’ve been using a vibrator? For how long?” He asked.

Dangerous, dangerous territory. But you were tired of fighting. Of being good. “Since about the third class,” you said.

He leaned back, running a free hand down his face. “You really thought a vibrator could replace me?” He asked.

“No! That’s why the fucking batteries are shot to hell. I’ve been using it so damn much, I could be a spokeswoman for it,” you furiously whispered.

His eye traveled lower to your skirt and the way that you stood with your legs practically crossed. His eyes continued to move and you were starting to get nervous. What was he seeing? What was he putting together in his head?

“Did you finish?” He asked.

“Stunna…” You warned. You already crossed so many boundaries. You were in public. You were discussing this shit in public, as if you were ready to throw your degree down the tube. Ready to throw his career down the drain before he had a chance to get started.

“Did you finish?” He repeated, a lot slower and a lot lower. It wrecked havoc on your lower body.

“No,” you answered.

“Office. Meet me there in five minutes,” he said.

He brushed past you before you could say anything else. Before you could list the ways in which this was a terrible idea. Your mind helpfully offered all the ways in which this could go wrong. You stood there for a beat too long, staring at the batteries in your hands.

If there was a chance for the real thing…no, no, no, one of you had to be an adult about this. Had to stick firmly to your side of the line and not cross it. But you were tired. Weary. Fighting a mental battle every day as well as a physical one. You needed him. You just plain wanted him.

You still bought the batteries because you weren’t that fucking stupid.

You rushed over to his office, pretending like everything was fine. You were not on the way to do something incredibly dumb and immature. But fuck you needed him inside of you. You needed his hands on your ass. Spread open over his desk, chair, couch, or the floor. Wherever.

You were absolutely an addict for Stunna. You could admit it now that you were on the way to do this. You didn’t know why people continued to lie and say, “It just happened”. No. There was always room for doubt. For second guessing. A moment where you had to stop and use your brain.

You were using your brain. It was just telling you to, “Ride that dick”! In the English building, you took the elevator to the admin floor where teachers had their offices. It seemed empty, most of the offices open with the lights off.

You still drifted until you found his office. He was seated behind his desk, looking pensive. You could leave. He didn’t have to know you were here. It was a momentary lapse. Nothing more.

Before you could back away, Stunna looked up and caught you in the doorway. He stood up, pulling you inside. He checked the hallway before closing the door and locking it.

“Stunna, you know we can’t…especially not in here,” you said. You widened your eyes. Tried to give voice to all the reasons you couldn’t do this.

He didn’t respond. He just crossed the room, grabbed your face, and crashed your lips together.

“I just want to help,” he said. He went back to kissing you, to providing you with the much needed oxygen you had been missing for the past month.

You moaned into the kiss, dropped your keys, wallet, and batteries on his desk and then hugged him to you. You couldn’t stop your hands from roaming, searching, seeking, and re-learning his body all over again. What made him sigh, what made him hiss, what turned him on.

You bit his lip and he gasped, moaning. His tongue played with yours. Your teeth scraped together. You never felt more complete, more whole, than standing here in his arms once more.

The month disappeared in your eyes. You were transported back to that night in his hotel room. Like no time had passed at all. You were back in his apartment, two bodies meeting each other over and over again.

His hands went down to your skirt, but he didn’t push. He toyed with your naked ass, squeezing the globes, and fingers skirting closer and closer to the middle. You shook violently in his arms, dripping with arousal already.

You’d have thought some ancient beast possessed you and made you a vessel of horniness. You just wanted to be filled up. Connected.

Stunna pushed you until your butt hit the desk. You sat down and spread your legs. He spread you even further. He kissed down your neck. “You gotta be quiet,” he whispered.

Yeah, right. He kissed down your neck before dropping to his knees. He flipped your skirt up and looked his fill at your glistening pussy. He gave you a nasty wink before he dived in, licking the seam of your pussy lips before finding your clit.

You arched and gasped on his desk. One of his hands came up around your throat, trapping any sound you would make. He used his other hand to drape your leg over his shoulder, opening you up to where he could get all of you.

He suckled on your clit like a starving man. Slurped and licked every inch of your pussy. He dipped his long tongue into you, shallowly fucking you. You gripped the edge of the desk, immediately feeling like you were going to burst out of your skin.

It only took a few more licks for you to burst completely, cumming on his tongue. You made tinny, airless cries and he had to apply pressure to your throat to keep you from screaming out like you wanted.

You shook and twitched on his desk and he continued eating you out like he wasn’t finished. On the heels of the first, you were plunging right back into a second orgasm. Or maybe this was a delayed continuation of the first. Whichever it was, you were out of breath by the time it ended.

Stunna stood up, wiping his mouth and using his tongue to get the rest off of his lips. He kissed your forehead, leaving a wet spot there that you never wanted to clean. You melted, sighing into him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Fuck, I needed that,” you said. So much better than your vibrator.

“I needed it, too. I’m sorry I crossed our line, but that skirt…hearing you been taking care of yourself…” He bit his lip and you wanted to know what the hell he was thinking.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve been taking care of yourself. I seem to recall some filthy words about a shower?” You asked.

“The shower, the bed, the kitchen, the table. There’s a lot of surfaces in my apartment,” he said.

That only thrilled you. That he had been getting himself off to thoughts of you. “Not the same, huh?” You asked.

“Not at fucking all,” he said with a grin.

“Well…you don’t have anyone coming for office hours?” You asked. You were already here. Already crossed that line. You might as well go for gold.

“Nope,” he said, a wicked smile crossing his face. Perfect man with his perfect teeth. “We should behave though. These walls are thin as hell.”

“I can be quiet if you can,” you said. You hopped off the front of his desk. You grabbed his hand and led him around it to his side. You pushed him into his chair. He lifted one eyebrow at you, a smirk hovering on his lips.

“What you got in mind?” He asked.

You kissed him instead while you freed his dick from his pants. He helped you push them down enough so it wouldn’t interfere. You turned around, wiggling your ass a bit. You looked at him over your shoulder and the look he gave you….rooted you to the spot.

You were both so deeply in love with each other. You just knew, from the crinkle in his eyes, that you were it for him. And he was it for you.

You scooted into his lap, legs on the outside of his. You lifted up, grabbed his thick dick, and then slowly slid yourself down on it. You shared a quiet groan as he slid into place, slid right back home where he belonged.

It wasn’t the best angle for riding, but if you rode him cowgirl, you’d have to stare that love in the face. You acknowledged it, but it was still scary as hell. You used the desk to lift your ass and sit back down on his dick.

Stunna grabbed your waist, helping you along. He cursed softly as he moved you a little faster. You meant to be the one doing most of the work, feeling only slightly guilty that you relied so heavily on his powerful legs to stroke into you.

But he showed no signs that he was on that same wavelength. He only kissed the back of your neck, softly moaning in your ear. Wretched little sounds that drove your pleasure higher.

Your mind sunk into a fuzzy comfort as you quickly rode him. “Perfect, fucking perfect. You’re perfect,” he stuttered in your ear.

Your pussy gripped onto him, sucking in the sheer massive size of him. He was thick, for sure, But he was thick everywhere. From the tip to the base, he had a consistent hardness that felt like you were really getting piped down.

You bobbed on his dick as much as you were able to, both chasing an incredible high. You just needed…a little…

Stunna’s fingers moved forward, gathering up slick, and then played with your clit. His rough fingers flicked that little bundle of nerves until you were shaking and crying. He used his other hand to cover your mouth.

You tried, you really did try to stifle your moans. It was not easy. Not when every part of you wanted to let out a scream to rock the foundation of the building. You wanted to scream for everyone to hear that you were in the throes of a powerful orgasm.

Stunna cursed and then he was joining you, flooding your pussy with his cum. You would never get over the sensation of his hot, pulsing cum shooting out of him. You shivered, pussy clenching around him like it wanted to keep it all inside.

Stunna dropped kisses to your cheek and the back of your neck. “How the hell did we make it a month without this?” He whispered.

“How the hell are we going to make it another?” You asked.

You fell into temptation. You finally made love to him again and fuck. Your fantasies were severely lacking. You needed to ramp them up. You had to build that wall back up between you.

“You saying this becomes a monthly thing? Congrats on a month without sex, here’s some head,” he said.

You laughed softly. “I mean…” You weren’t opposed to the idea. You could hide one encounter. You could keep this off campus, at his place, like a dirty secret in the night. At this point, you had no self-respect. Not when it came to Stunna.

“No, no. We have to be good. This was…”

“Perfect,” he said. You giggled while he nibbled on your ear. Fuck, you missed him. Missed being in his arms, filled up by him.

You wiggled your ass. “Quit playin’,” he said, injecting a level of dangerous warning in his tone.

You wiggled your ass again. You were playing with fire, but hell, the heat never bothered you anyway.

You turned to look at him and give him a saucy wink when a knock sounded on his door. You froze.

Your heart rate jumped to a thousand beats per second, fingers glued to his thigh. Your stomach turned watery, fear unlike you’d ever felt thrumming through your veins. This was it. The moment you got caught.

You’d look back at this moment as The Moment. The Moment when your life came crashing down. You were literally caught with your teacher’s dick inside you. There was no way this wouldn’t be in the news cycle this very evening.

You could picture the jokes. Getting Extra Credit. Oh, is that what the kids were calling it these days? A little Hot for Teacher.

Stunna’s hands went back to your waist, squeezing slightly. You looked back at him. His eyes were wide but he looked calmer than you did. He lifted a finger to his lips and you nodded.

The knock sounded again, and then again before the silhouette in front of his door went away. Neither of you said a word for five minutes straight.

Stunna was the first to blow a breath. “I think we’re okay,�� he said.

You scrambled off of him, removing his softened dick, and then went around the desk. You needed a physical barrier between you at the moment.

“I’m sorry–” You lifted a hand, cutting him off.

“I’m not mad, I-I’m really fucking scared,” you said.

“I know, I’d never put you through this…”

“I’m scared for you, you idiot. If they catch us, you could kiss working here goodbye. You just fucking got here,” you said. Unfortunately, there were no panties to indignantly pull up.

You were still a bit wet with his cum dripping out. But now you were full of dread and worst case scenarios.

“Me? Whoa, whoa, don’t worry about me,” Stunna said.

“How could I not? I–” It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him you loved him, but you weren’t ready for that. Wasn’t sure when you would be. It was scary to love him after a short period, to look at him and know that he was your soulmate. You knew he felt similarly, but soulmate? Would that freak him out?

Stunna stood up, stuffing his dick back in his pants. He fixed himself and came around the desk, invading your personal space.

“I’m the one that dragged you here. I’m in the wrong. And if this were to get out, don’t you ever try to protect me,” he said.

“You get to protect me but I can’t protect you?” You asked.

“No, that’s not the way this works. You protect yourself, always. I’ll protect you,” he said.

You laughed bitterly. “You’re so full of shit. You think I’m gonna stand there and let you take all the blame?” You asked.

“Yes, that’s exactly what you need to do,” he said.

You scoffed. You grabbed your things off of his desk. “Fuck you, Stunna. I’ll be damned if you fall on the sword for me. I’m an adult. I can make up my own mind,” you said.

“Don’t you get it? I can’t live with myself if I fucked up your degree,” Stunna said.

“And I can’t live with myself knowing I fucked off your job,” you said quickly. “This isn’t a game, Stunna. This is your life.”

“You are my life,” he whispered.

You reared back as if he’d yelled at you. He stepped forward, cradling your head in his hands.

“I know it’s sudden. I know it hasn’t been a lot of time. I know I’m probably scaring you. I just need you to be okay. I’ve been able to hold it together this past month because I know that in a few months, I’ll have my life back. But not if I jeopardize this for you,” he said.

“Then how do you think I feel? How could you think that I don’t feel the exact same way?” You asked.

Stunna kissed you softly, like you had all the time in the world to do so. You didn’t know how long he kissed you for, only that you felt loved and cherished the longer his lips were on yours.

“We’re just two idiots in love then,” Stunna said.

You smiled at him, all the wonderful, gooey feelings tangled in your gut.

“Two idiots in love.”

Need more Stunna? The Secret Big Stunna Files

Part 1 | Part 2

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threebooksoneplot · 1 year ago

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Three Books One Plot FAQ

Who are you?

Hosts Shannon and G are both relapsed 2000s twihards from the DC-Maryland-Virginia area of the US who found their way back to Twilight fandom just in time for the Renaissance™. They met through fandom in 2019 and have been friends ever since!

Shannon (@flowerslut) lives and works in LA. When she’s not obsessively writing 250k-word fanfictions, you can find her at Emo Nite LA or making her own music under the name Maybe. Her personal blog is @uncancellable. You can also follow her on Goodreads/Storygraph!

G (@volturialice) lives in Colorado and works remotely, which leaves plenty of time for her to take long walks in the mountains and look for loose bears in the neighborhood. She is a graduate of the Fanauthor Workshop and spends a shocking amount of time at the library. You can follow her on Goodreads/Storygraph here!

What is Three Books One Plot?

3B1P (2022 - present) is a podcast created to compare and contrast Twilight and its two published rewrites: Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined (genderflipped Twilight) and Midnight Sun (Twilight from Edward’s point of view.) One part literary analysis, several parts jokes, and the rest utter shenanigans, it’s a bimonthly read-along in which hosts G and Shannon take turns reading and recounting chapters of Life and Death/Midnight Sun, and a rotating guest of the week reads and recounts Twilight. For more information on the podcast's genesis and the history of the three books, give Episode 0 a listen!

Where can I listen?

You can find us on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, and Pocket Casts.

Are you planning to do episodes on Eclipse/Breaking Dawn?

Yes! Season 3 (Eclipse) will run from September 11th, 2024 (Happy birthday Renesmee) through the end of November 2025, with a few brief hiatuses. We are planning a Breaking Dawn season/Season 4, but dates are still TBD!

How have you kept your “three books” gimmick going into Season 2 and beyond?

In Seasons 2 and 3, we've kept Midnight Sun and Life and Death traditions alive by writing our own fake sequels (New Moon: Euphoria and Agony and Dark Noon, Eclipse: Warfare and Peace and Corona Light) from Beau's and Edward's POVs! G and Shannon take turns writing a chapter of each book and read them aloud on the air after each episode's normal chapter discussion.

For Season 3 (Eclipse,) we are also simultaneously be reading The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner! Look for Bree-inclusive episodes starting in March 2025, when the timelines converge.

When do you post new episodes?

We post new episodes every other Monday! Season 1 of 3B1P aired from June 2022 through May 2023, while Season 2 (New Moon) aired September 2023 through June 2024. Season 3 (Eclipse) will air September 2024 through November 2025 (reverting back to Monday releases after a Wednesday, September 11th premiere.)

Why do you have an episode 0/8.5/11.5? And why is your season 1 finale/season 3 premiere episode longer than Return of the King (2003, dir. Peter Jackson)?

Listen, we never claimed to be perfect.

What are the "show notes" and where can I find them?

After each episode, we compile any references we or our guests made into a post full of links, images, videos, articles, etc. Find them on our tumblr here!

How can I support the podcast?

You can slide us a few bucks over on the 3B1P Ko-fi. Anything we raise that goes over the cost of breaking even will be donated to the Quileute tribe’s Move to Higher Ground project! If you’d rather not shell out, we’d also love getting ratings/reviews on your listening platform of choice. Or you can recommend us to your goofiest friends!

Where can I find you on social media?

We post (and reblog) the most stuff here on our tumblr, but we also have an Instagram, TikTok, and previously had a (now-defunct) Twitter. You can also contact us with inquiries or long-form comments and letters at [email protected] 🤩

How can I interact with the podcast?

We love responding to tumblr asks, emails, and other comments! Sometimes we even read out comments during an episodes. We also post weekly polls and short-answer questions both here and on Spotify (only accessible from the mobile app.) We even occasionally host contests and challenges! You can also join our spinoff project Bella’s Book Club, a virtual book club open to anyone, which meets on discord once a month in order to discuss “Bella Swan’s” (Stephenie Meyer’s) favorite books as listed in Midnight Sun chapter 11 (and sometimes watch movies!) More info on Bella's Book Club can be found on its dedicated tumblr (here) Goodreads (here) and Storygraph (here!)

#faq #twilight podcast #twilight #midnight sun #life and death #show notes

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rynrising44 · 6 months ago

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What's up!

I'm Ryn (She/Her) and I'm an Autistic 4th year Veterinary student who loves aquatic animals and has a Carol Danvers hyperfixation on the side. (Solely putting Autistic in the descriptors because YES! you can be neurodivergent and still be a doctor.)

I can't see anything in my head.

I have read every single Carol Danvers comic that is currently in existence (Even Civil War II, which we just won't talk about).

I drink a lot of half-sweet DB cold brew iced coffee.

I like the Fast and Furious movies unironically (I can't explain it. I love them. I eat them up so hard).

AO3: RynRose4 - Works | Archive of Our Own with most of my works focusing on trauma and healing. ValCarol and Janaya are my top 2 pairings (MCU and The Dragon Prince).

Main 3 Series I'm working on:

It's a Slow Fire of Sorts... - RynRose4, Taranis_Dahl44 (RynRose4) - Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Marvels (Movie 2023) [Archive of Our Own]

A PG-13 "What If" ValCarol story: Currently ~65k words What if Brunnhilde and Vers met on Sakaar during a Starforce mission back in 1991? And how would this change the course of the MCU/ 616-Comics? One-half heart-wrenching plot and one-half absolute wack. Featuring a wide variety of comic book characters (many you've probably never heard of), far too much Marvel Universe lore, wonky Asgardian history and side-pairings such as Hill/Romanoff, Loki/Mobius, Jane/Thor, and many others.

Sidereal - RynRose4 - Marvel Cinematic Universe, Secret Invasion (TV 2023), The Marvels (Movie 2023) [Archive of Our Own]

A Mature PTSD ValCarol/ Carol D. Journey taking place immediately post- The Marvels and stretching into 2029: Currently ~50K words Sidereal- relating to the stars or constellations. Sidereal time is based on Earth's rotation relative to the fixed stars instead of to the Sun. This series began as a hyperfixation one-shot and quickly progressed to a collection of chapters with a big emphasis on trauma, forgiveness, and healing. Character study vibes with a focus on INTROSPECTION instead of an externally plot driven story (so if you're not into that, or loads of italics, you've been warned).

Stupid Humans and Homicidal Elves - Chapter 1 - RynRose4 - The Dragon Prince (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own]

Mature TDP Janaya fic: Currently ~97K words Amaya is in Lux Aurea, surrounded by elves who want her murdered, some that want her sacrificed, and a few that need her alive. Her to-do list is quite simple: Escape, find her nephews, kill Viren. And not necessarily in that order. Janai's to-do list is even more direct: Keep the annoying human alive without falling in love with her. Spoiler alert: It's not going well. (Basically: How did a Human General gain favor with a Sunfire Queen in training, whose main purpose in life was to destroy her? SEASON 3 storyline that bridges somewhat into the 2-year gap before SEASON 4)

I'm also a part of the lovely "Character A Character B Discord" server.

That is all. Thanks for reading. If you follow me, I will probably spam your feed with Captain Marvel content and late-night Carol Danvers thoughts. <3

(A little parasite just for funsies)

#valcarol #janaya #ao3 writer #introductory post #Rynrose4 #glass heart #charminghearts #Whatever Chloe and Red's ship name is because idk at this point.#Rynrosewrites #divider by @sister-lucifer

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wkemeup · 4 years ago

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Sunrise (3)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: none 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky stared down at the fresh coffee stained on the sidewalk; a caramel puddle nestling into the cracks and stretching along the lines until it spilled out into the street. He could smell the bitterness and the sweetness in the cream, the steam of it still warm as it filtered up into the cold, autumn air. He cursed at himself under his breath.

You’d looked so beautiful, even with your eyes wide in shock and lips parted in a gasp as coffee spilled to your shoes. Dressed under an army green overcoat, a sliver of a burnt orange sweater peaked out from underneath. He’d seen that particular shade before, cast over a forest of evergreens and reflecting into the clouds, just above the sun as it set over the tree line.

But he’d made a fool of himself in front of you and he could still feel the burning in his ears. He felt hot under his jacket and he found himself glancing down the street, wondering if he could make a run for it. Only, you were waiting for him inside and Bucky couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing you.

Gathering what remained of his courage, Bucky parted the double doors and stepped inside. It took a minute to let his eyes adjust, but when the dim lighting came into view, he noticed you were standing by the entrance waiting for him like you’d known he’d decide to follow. You beamed as he caught sight of you and his stomach twisted straight to knots. You were still clutching the donut box to your chest, almost as if you were afraid he’d knock that out of your hands, too.

“Come on, you can help me set up.” You gestured down the hall to the room he met you in a few days prior. The library with no books on the shelves and cobwebs in the corners. “We’ve got to get you a book before the others show up.”

Bucky nodded, though he didn’t say anything as he followed you. It was pretty quiet without so many people lingering around, but everyone seemed to smile as you approached; perking up from under their clouds and called out your name until you waved back at them. It was like you carried sunshine in your pockets and comfort in your presence, breaking away stormy skies as you passed by.

Before you could reach the library door, Bucky rushed out ahead of you and grabbed a hold of the knob. You paused, eyes catching his for a moment and a pink filtered into his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

“Figured I could do one decent thing today after I ruined your shoes,” he explained, pulling open the door for you.

“You showed up, didn’t you?” you added with a wink. “I count two decent things today, James Barnes.”

He chuckled at that, nodding. “Y-Yeah, okay.”

You set the donuts on the coffee table and began to push the furniture around into a circle. You shouldered most of your weight into the couch to get it to budge and Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips just watching you. Concentrated frown on your face, determination in your eyes, staring down the couch as if it were your sworn enemy.

“You need help with that?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the couch that barely moved a few inches while you were out of breath.

You glanced up at him over the spine of the couch, nodding gratefully. “This one always gives me trouble.”

“I’m sure if you waited for the others to show up, they’d help you move these around,” Bucky said as he placed his right hand on the back of the armrest, his knee digging into the center of the back. You stood next to him, hands on the frame to help push despite the fact that Bucky was strong enough, even without his left arm, to move the couch on his own. But he liked the idea of you beside him, so he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, I’m sure they would,” you exhaled as they couch slid perfectly into place within the circle. “They all work so hard though, you know? It’s nice to have them just walk in and sit down for a change. Don’t need them thinking I’m expecting work out of them, too.”

“Ah, so that's why I’m here, then...”

He was surprised by the teasing in his own voice. When was the last time he made a joke? He couldn’t even remember. But you started to smile, that brightness shining right up into your eyes, and it didn’t matter anymore. He’d make a thousand jokes if you would keep looking at him like that.

“Careful now,” you warned, a glimmer in your eye. “I might need you to help move this couch every week...”

“Wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?”

He didn’t know where this was coming from or how it slipped off his tongue so easily, but he liked the way it seemed to catch your off guard. You stilled for a second, a nervous laugh under your breath as you quickly tucked away a few strands of fallen hair. You were flustered. Shit. He was done for.

“Haven't even seen one meeting and you’re offering to move couches for me on a weekly basis? Consider me eternally grateful, James Barnes.” You plopped down on the couch, reaching for the strap of your bag, though it was a few inches out of reach.

Bucky leaned down and picked up the bag, surprised to find it as heavy as it was, and gently set it in your lap. He took a seat on the couch on your left, though he left considerable room between you. You started digging through the bag, pulling out book after book and setting them on the table.

“We’ve got to pick your book of choice,” you explained, smiling at him and clearly eager to see what he would select. “Anything you want. I can get something else from the library for next week if you’re not interested in these. I’ve got some guys reading Harry Potter for the first time. Lang’s on the second Twilight book. Romanoff is halfway through The Odyssey. Barton’s about a few pages to the end of a murder mystery he guessed the plot twist of within the first ten pages, which is just downright infuriating...”

Your nose was all scrunched up and it was the damn near cutest thing Bucky had ever seen. He must have been staring for too long though, because you raised a brow at him.

Bucky cleared this throat, quickly looking away. He scratched nervously at the back of his neck and tried to steer the conversation strictly away from how adorable he found you.

“Isn’t the point of a book club to read the same book?”

“I suppose,” you shrugged, “but not my book club. The whole point is just to help these guys feel comfortable, give them a moment of peace, even if it’s for an hour once a week. Sometimes we’ll sit around the circle and talk about what we’re reading. Lang’s working really hard to sell the Twilight books to the rest of the group despite being about a decade late to the game. Most times though, we just read, listen to some music. It’s quite nice, actually.”

So that was what Sam meant by unconventional.

“I don’t know the last time I read anything,” Bucky admitted slowly. He could barely get himself to concentrate on a single newspaper article these days, let alone an entire book. He often caught himself staring at the TV and realizing an episode later that he didn’t have a clue what had happened.

“A lot of the guys take breaks,” you offered, seemingly reading his mind. “That’s what the donuts are for. Oh, and the coffee, of course.”

You jumped up, making your way over to the pots sitting on the table lining the wall. The pots were already filled and he wondered who took the time to do that for you before you even arrived. You were so well liked around here, Bucky found himself wondering if he wasn’t the only one who felt like you could tell him to do just about anything and he’d oblige without question.

“You want some?” you asked, holding up an empty cup, but Bucky shook his head. He was already starting to get warm and adding coffee to the mix wouldn’t help things.

You didn’t seem to mind as you shrugged off your jacket and draped it by the door. The orange sweater he’d caught a glimpse of under your jacket turned out to be a cardigan. It flowed long down by your thighs, draped over a simple, white tank top and black jeans. Gold jewelry sat over your collarbone and you had a sudden glow about you, like that hour just before sunset.

Golden hour, he realized. That’s what you reminded him of.

“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” you asked, fanning yourself as you set the coffee on the table. “It’s not just me?”

It’s definitely you, Bucky thought. He’d never met anyone who carried such a presence as to melt the icy cold shards planted defensively around his chest. You were the epitome of warmth and kindness and the sweetest damn thing he’d ever seen... but a trail of sweat lined his hairline and he could feel the heat trapped under his jacket.

“Not you,” Bucky confirmed, brushing at his brow. “It’s hot.”

“Here,” you stood up, holding out a hand to him, “I can take your jacket for you.”

Bucky froze, jaw clenched. He became painfully aware of the empty sleeve on his left side. He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew you must have noticed by now, but taking the jacket off made it obvious that a piece of him was missing, the stub at his shoulder the only thing left in place of an arm he could still feel most days.

“I’m, uh, I’m okay,” he stuttered out, his eyes falling to the ground, hoping you didn’t notice the flush in his cheeks. He could feel your eyes on him and he was almost certain that if he dared to look up at you, you’d be fixated on his empty sleeve.

Shame started to burn hot in his chest when suddenly he felt a cool breeze on the back of his neck. When he looked in search of you, he found you setting up a fan at the edge of the room, angling it just enough so that it was sure to reach him on every rotation.

He swallowed as he watched you. You didn’t ask questions or push him to take the jacket off despite being clearly too warm to keep it on. Instead, you offered him a short smile as you sat back on the couch beside him, a little closer this time.

“Any better?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that's really nice. Thanks.”

You smiled for him and he wondered if he could stay inside that moment forever.

***

Bucky selected The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Gilman from the stack of books on the table. It surprised you as his hand ghosted over the cover before flipping it over in his palm, a curious look on his features. It was one of your favorites, one not many would choose to pick up in fear of the publishing date in the late 1800s, but it was a short story, one he could finish within the span of the meeting today.

As he stared down at the unusual yellow pattern on the cover, a frown pushed at his lips as he started to see the strange images hidden under the surface. You found yourself struggling to tear your gaze away from him. With such a reaction to the cover, you couldn’t wait for the end of the meeting just to hear what he thought of the story.

Soon, the usuals started filtering into the room and you noticed that Bucky had barely said a word as the low hum of small talk and chatter filled the empty space. He kept to himself, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion like he might run at any second as you talked with one of the oldest VA members by the door.

Upon sensing his discomfort, you quickly made your way back to the couch and you were surprised when you felt the cushion dip a little as he leaned in your direction as if he was using you as anchor; something familiar amongst an unknown. You tried to suppress a smile when he looked at you, but you really liked the idea of being something familiar to him.

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” you told him quietly, nudging his side playfully with your shoulder. It drew a soft laugh from under his breath and he nodded, gripping tight to the book.

“Yeah, me too.” He sank back into the couch and relaxed the tension in his body.

Six on the dot. You turned to the group.

Tony Stark sat in his usual throne, legs draped over the arm rest, sitting sprawled out over the single chair. Heir to Stark Industries, he’d enlisted himself in rebellion against his own father. He’d ended up in the Air Force for three tours and prided himself on the tattoo on his chest he’d gotten drunkenly off base in his early twenties.

Natasha Romanoff found her place sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning up against the seat of Tony’s chair. She was a sort of a mystery to you, never spoke a word about her position within the military and how long she served, but she was exceptionally perceptive. Part of you wondered if she was some sort of super spy. Despite becoming a close friend, there was still so little you knew about her history. She rested a pillow in her lap.

Then, there was Scott Lang. He’d found himself in some trouble after his discharge, but he was turning his life around. He had a little girl to stick around for and he was trying desperately to find a job. You suspected his fascination with the Twilight books stemmed more from an unbreakable bond with his daughter than anything else. He took his place on the bean bag chair.

Clint Barton sat on the table outside the circle. He was a sharp shooter in his time and found more comfort in the distance. He kept to himself and had an exceptionally entertaining habit of making quick remarks under his breath few were fortunate to hear. You were determined to hand him a book with a plot twist not even he could see coming. You resided to put Defending Jacob by William Landay on hold.

A few others filled out the circle; familiar faces of men and women most would look past on the streets. Dark circles under their eyes, a hardened look about them. Some with tattoos and long beards, other’s draped in leather. Some, you could see the ghost of their former selves in their eyes, but they all seemed to lighten as they sat around the circle.

A moment of peace. It’s all you could offer and they took it gladly.

“Hey everyone. We’ve got a newbie in today.” You gestured to Bucky and he slowly lifted his hand in an awkward wave. “This is Bucky. Bucky, this is the group. Play nice.”

“What’s your rank, soldier?” Tony quipped from his chair; legs kicked out over the side. He never had much of a filter, or a sense of restraint. You shot him a glare he didn’t seem to notice, or rather he didn’t care.

“Sergeant,” Bucky clarified, though you could hear the strain in his voice. He said it as though it burned him, like the very act of the title was painful just to speak.

“Where’d you serve?”

“Tony, we’re not grilling the new kid today,” you warned, but Bucky cleared his throat.

“Afghanistan mostly.” He curled his hand into a fist, pinching at the pages of The Yellow Wallpaper in his grip. A hardness had swept over most of his features, almost in a protective layer, and you wanted to whack Tony upside the head for stealing the soft undertones in his expression.

“And the rest?”

Bucky paused, releasing his fist. “Classified.”

Tony pursed his lips, staring Bucky down over the top lens of his thick rimmed glasses. A testament of wills. A challenge. Then, he nodded, satisfied.

“Great,” you groaned, rolling your eyes playfully. “Now that Tony here has finished interrogating our newest member, we can get started.”

“Hey, consider it my welcome to the group!” Tony hands thrown defensively in the air. Scott nodded from his couch, remembering his own initiation the day Tony demanded to know the extent of his robbery charges following his discharge.

You shook your head, smiling spreading back to your lips and you were thankful to find that Bucky had sat back into the couch, relaxing as the attention moved back to you.

“I think we’ll just spend today reading,” you said. “I’ll put on the playlist Tony recommended – and don’t worry, I did browse through to make sure he didn’t slip any rock anthems in again. We don’t need to give Dr. Selvig down the hall another heart attack when Back in Black starts blaring directly after Yiruma.”

The room laughed and you were purposeful in glancing over at Bucky to see if a smile caught on his lips. It was small, a little uncomfortable as his eyes flickered around the room at the other group members, but he seemed to soften as he landed on you again. You nodded at him.

“Alright kids, hush up now.” You pressed play and the gentle strokes of a piano began to fill the room. “I’ll wake you in an hour.”

You waited until everyone settled in and opened their books. One of the older gentlemen in the back with a long and burly white beard and a leather vest draped over his shoulders set the open novel on his chest and promptly closed his eyes for his weekly nap. You smiled to yourself as you watched the heavy rise and fall of his chest – the man deserved one decent hour of rest a week, anyway.

By the time you made your way back to the couch, you noticed Bucky had tensed up again. He was staring down at the book, harsh breaths pressing through his nose as he tried to keep the book propped open with on hand, losing his place as he tried to turn the page. His jaw was clenched so tight you wondered if he’d bite it clean off.

He didn’t dare ask for help or so much as look in your direction, but it was a determination you’d come to expect from the people you met in these halls. It didn’t mean you couldn’t offer it anyway.

You quietly opened a drawer at the edge of the room, pushing aside knick knacks and old ketchup packets until you came across a small wooden clip. One of the older members had used it when he was going through extensive PT for his hand and couldn’t pinch his fingers enough to grip the thin slip of the page. You pulled it from the drawer and quickly skirted your way back to the couch beside Bucky.

“Here,” you offered, extending the clip to him as the book fell closed on his lap for the fourth time. He looked up at you, confused. You wondered if he realized how cute he looked when his brows pinched together like that; made him look about ten years younger and wiped the evidence of the war clean off his face.

You smiled at him. “It holds the pages down for you. Look.”

Gently pulling the book from his lip, you opened to the first page and set the clip at the bottom of the binding. When you released it, the pages stayed open, giving him free range of motion to turn the page without losing his place.

He blinked a few times as he stared down at the book. It was clear he’d never considered a tool like this and you wondered how many times he had sat down with the intention of reading only to find he couldn’t even turn past the first page. He might have been able to figure out the skill in it if he’d had the patience, but you imagined his own frustration got in the way of that. He seemed to have little patience for himself, as soldiers returning home often did.

There was a brief moment when the tips of his fingers brushed over yours as you pulled away. His hands were warm, almost feverish in comparison to the chill in your own. A blush warmed his cheeks and his eyes quickly darted down to the pages. Your stomach was in pleasant knots.

“Thanks,” he replied quietly, a soft semblance of a smile rising sweetly at the edges of his lips.

You nodded, settling in on the couch beside him and pulling your own book up into your lap. You listened to the gentle strokes of the piano carrying softly through the room until a page turned on your left and then, you let yourself sink into the bindings of the book perched upon your lap.

***

“So! What did you think?!”

It was the first thing you said as the final group member exited the room. Barely even a footstep out the door and you were already anxiously awaiting his reaction. Bucky was busy pushing the couch back into its original position and he glanced back at you to see you biting nervously on your lip, hands wringing out in front of you. You were swaying onto your tip toes like a kid hyped up on sugar. It was the cutest damn thing he’d ever seen.

“It was... a little creepy at the end?” Bucky chuckled, glancing down at The Yellow Wallpaper as it sat on the coffee table. “The woman went completely mad.”

You nodded vigorously, the smile on your face beaming and he had to watch himself to keep from mirroring your excitement.

"It’s a critique on how women’s mental health was perceived in the nineteenth century!” you explained with that giddy look on your face, reaching down for the book and flipping the pages through your fingers, the soft brush of wrinkled paper touching over each thumbprint. “Women were believed to be weak minded and frail, unable to handle more than two hours of mental stimulation. The woman in the story was prescribed ‘rest’ by her physician to treat her depression, essentially restricting her to little more than staring at the walls.”

You rolled your eyes, groaning dramatically, and drawing a smile to Bucky’s face that ached into his cheeks. “Slowly, it drove her to seek stimulation in impossible places, like the image of a woman she saw in the wallpaper! By the end of the story, that’s who she became. Wild, right?”

You shook your head, seemingly lost in astonishment. There was a slight crinkle in your nose when you smiled that wide, Bucky realized, like even the features on your face couldn’t hope to contain the joy bursting from your smile. Radiated like the fucking sun. Bucky was helpless in his stance, frozen, as he listened to you.

“You know the author once said, ‘it’s not intended to drive people crazy, but to save people from being driven crazy,’” you continued, setting the book down with such a gentle touch, almost as if it were a living, breathing thing. You handled it with such care and Bucky began to wonder if you’d ever touch him like that – if he was worth such tenderness.

The thought startled him and he quickly swallowed it back. Jaw clenched, right hand pressed to a fist in the pocket of his jacket. Stone cold expression. And yet – you were still talking about that book, all starry eyed and adorable, and a smile managed to crack through his lips. It was his new favorite book, he decided. Whatever could make you smile like that was his favorite. He’d sit there and read the fucking phone book if you asked him to.

“She wrote it in retaliation of her own experience of a physician disregarding her depression. It's actually quite remarkable when you think about it. It's one of the earliest American Feminist works of it’s– ” You froze suddenly, hand clamping over your mouth. You winced at him, slowly pealing your palm away. “Oh God, I’m rambling. I tend to get a little excited about these things... You must be so bored right now.”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile as it rose in his cheeks. He liked seeing you so flustered, caught up in a passion he so rarely saw these days. He didn’t know the last time he cared about anything as much as you cared for books. He could have easily listened to you talk like that for hours without interruption.

“No, no, not bored at all,” he reassured you and you visibly relaxed, relief sweeping through your shoulders. You started to fold up the chairs when Bucky cleared his throat, drawing your attention back. “I, uh, I did like the story, though. Has a lot of relevance today. I see why you like it.”

If he thought you were going to burst before, he should have waited to see how you were looking at him now. Chewing on the inside of your cheek in hopes of suppressing it, though it clearly did little use. You planted your hands on your hips.

“Watch what you say, Barnes. I’ll talk your ear off.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m already down an arm, what’s an ear, too?”

The second the words left his lips, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head; drenching his clothes, goosebumps on his ice, sinking into his veins and freezing him to stone. He woken up from a pleasant dream by the harsh ringing of an alarm. He'd been pushed off a cliff, stomach churning in the freefall.

You knew. Obviously, you knew.

You weren’t blind and he was certain you could tell there was a startling absence where his left arm should be, even with the poorly camouflaged sleeve hanging off his side. It wasn’t fooling strangers on the street and it certainly didn’t fool you either, even if it gave him an ounce of peace, like maybe he could pretend he was whole again.

But you’d brought him that book clip for a reason.

You knew.

At yet, this was the first time he mentioned it aloud. Actually said the words. Drew attention to the fact that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and now he was waiting for you to flinch, for the familiar shades of pity and embarrassment to cloud over your starry eyes, but he waited and waited and – it never came.

Instead, you started to laugh.

It filled the room and washed away whatever panic was surging inside of him within a matter of seconds. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard and he wished you didn’t shield your hand over your lips in an effort to contain it because – God – he could have spent his whole life sitting in that moment. Tears in your eyes, a smile on your face, looking at him like he was the man he was before the war, like he was something worth looking at.

“You’re funny, James Barnes,” you said after you caught your breath again, a whisper of a laugh still lingering in your voice. You brushed the tears from your eyes.

Bucky’s chest felt instantly lighter. His right hand was swinging down at his side and he brought it up to his hair to brush it from his face.

“I could use a new book for next week,” he started, a little surprised at himself, and judging by the look in your eyes, it surprised you too. But you were smiling at him and it gave him the courage to continue. “Thought maybe you could help me find something?”

“Really?” you asked, practically glowing. “You’ll come back next week?”

He’d do anything if you kept looking at him like that.

“Yeah,” was all he said, but you looked as though he told you he’d just told you he won the lottery. Maybe he had.

“Well then, I’d be happy to! Just, um, hold on a second,” you scrambled around the room, looking for a pen and paper. You clicked a pen a few times before doodling in the corner to get the ink moving. When you were finished, you handed it to him. “These are my hours at the library. Come by anytime, okay? If I’m not up front, ask Mrs. Jefferson to page me. She’ll know who you are.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, staring down at the scribbled numbers. Did you talk about him at work? Butterflies swarmed in his stomach at the thought. He wondered what kinds of things you would say about him.

“Walk me out?” you asked, grabbing your coat from the rack and gesturing to the door. Bucky looked up, not even realizing the room was already set back in its original formation, the empty box of donuts discarded.

He nodded, following you to the door.

“You know, I’m really happy you decided to come today,” you said as you passed into the hallway. Bucky kept an even pace at your side and tried not to let the butterflies in his stomach escape to where you could see.

“Almost didn’t,” he admitted with a tired chuckle.

“Figured by the staring contest you were having with the building before the coffee incident.”

Bucky winced, but you were smiling as he looked over at you and he felt the tension slip from his muscles instantly. “I am sorry about that...”

“Maybe you can just owe me a coffee,” you suggested casually, as if the prospect of spending time together, just the two of you didn’t make the butterflies crawl a little further up into his chest. “A real one. Not the shitty stuff we serve at the VA.”

Bucky swallowed, pushing the creatures back into his stomach. His throat was dry. “I can do that.”

He pictured sitting across from you at a café, watching your hands curl around the outside of a mug, the steam of it brushing on your nose. Glistening in the reflection of the sunlight peaking through the windows, draped in the glow of the sunset. He’d buy you a thousand coffees.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you soon then?”

Bucky looked around and realized suddenly that he was standing outside. The cold breeze had turned into a frigid autumn chill with the sun nearly set behind the skyline. Peaks of orange remained at the horizon, mimicking the colors in your sweater. When he looked down, he could still see the stain of coffee on the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, determined to push past whatever doubt etched into his way. It faded in an instant as he saw your lips curve up high into your cheeks. “I’ll see you soon.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you

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andreafmn · 4 years ago

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I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 3

Word Count: 3,195

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ storyline.

Chapter: 3/?

Warnings: brief mention of attempted suicide

A/N: If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 3

"Time!" Mr. Harris looked up from his watch. "If you catalyzed the reaction correctly, you should now be looking at a crystal."

I looked down at my beaker and saw a horrible concoction of half crystal and half goo. Thanks to Stiles, my last partner of this weird-ass rotation the chemistry teacher had us partake in. Yet even though I didn't get with Stiles that well I was relieved that he was my partner. Isaac had been completely insufferable these last few days and I couldn't handle that.

"Now this part of the experiment I'm sure you'll all enjoy. You can eat it." I was bummed that I couldn't eat mine and I guess Lydia noticed.

"Hey, (Y/N), we can share mine. Don't frown." I smiled at her and she returned it.

After Lydia gave me half her rock crystal, Scott just stood up and screamed our names to stop, and everyone else just stared at us. We both turned and gave the boy a weird stare before diverging our attention back to the candy. After clinking our candies against the other, we savored the sweet treat.

Allison's POV

"Derek is outside waiting for (Y/N) and Lydia," Scott said.

"Waiting to kill them?"

"If he thinks one of them is the Kanima, then yes. Especially after what happened at the pool."

"It's not Lydia."

"Stiles, she didn't pass the test, man. Nothing happened."

"No, it can't be her."

"Well, it's not (Y/N) either."

"Well, it could be her."

"What is that supposed to mean?!" What the hell was his problem?

"Well, we have no idea who she is, and she hasn't really proven to be a good person. And the attacks did start after she first arrived at Beacon Hills."

"You don't know her, I do. Believe me, it's not her. I've known her my whole life. I think I would have noticed her turning into a killing lizard and I don't think I would be here to tell you. So, we can cross her out." We both sighed. "But it doesn't matter because Derek thinks it's one of them. So, either we can convince him that he's wrong or we've got to figure out a way to protect them."

"Well, I don't think he's gonna do anything here. Not at school." Scott stepped in.

"What about after school?" I asked and he sighed. "What if we can prove that Derek's wrong?"

"By three o'clock?"

"There can be something in the bestiary."

"Oh, you mean the 900-page book written in Archaic Latin that none of us can read? Good luck with that." Seriously Stiles, not helping. At least I was trying.

"Actually, I think there might be someone who can translate," I said thinking about our guidance counselor.

"Uh, I can talk to Derek maybe convince him to give us a chance to prove it's not either of them or... But if anything happens you guys let me handle it, okay?"

"What does that mean?"

"You can't heal like I do." I stared at him. I wasn't a defenseless baby. "I just don't want you getting hurt."

"I can protect myself." I took the crossbow out of my bag. He said nothing. "What? Did something else happen?"

"I just don't want you getting hurt. Seriously, if anything goes wrong you call me, okay?! I don't care if your dad finds out. Call or text, scream or yell; whatever, I'll find you as fast as I can." He stared straight into my eyes.

"We have until three."

He turned to leave until my crossbow went off. "Ooh." Scott quickly turned around and caught the arrow.

"Aah. Sorry." Stiles handed me the crossbow. "Sorry. Sensed a trigger on that."

Scott's POV

Currently, Stiles was on Lydia's and (Y/N)'s trail, and I was on the field with Boyd trying to find Derek.

"I wanna talk to Derek."

"Talk to me."

"I don't wanna fight."

"Good. Cause I'm twice the size of you" I looked up to find it true.

"True. Really, really true." He smirked. "But you wanna know what I think? I'm twice as fast." I smirked back and tackled him to the ground. Once we stood up, Derek appeared by our side.

"She failed the test." His face held his iconic scowl, and his arms were crossed.

"Yeah, but that doesn't prove anything. Lydia's different."

"I know. At night she turns into a homicidal walking snake."

"I'm not gonna let you kill her."

"Who said I was gonna do it?" I looked back to the school and realized Erica and Isaac were still back in the building. I tried to run towards it, but Boyd threw me down. "I don't know why you think you have to protect everyone now, Scott. But even so, Lydia has killed people and she's gonna do it again. And next time it's gonna be one of us."

"What if you're wrong? For all we know it could also be (Y/N). She didn't pass either, and how is it a coincidence that the attacks started after she arrived?" For a second I could have sworn there was a sign of desperation and worry in his face. But as quick as I blinked the look was gone.

"Lydia was bitten by an alpha. It's her."

"You saw that thing up close. You know it's not like us."

"But it is! We're all shapeshifters. You don't know what you're dealing with. It happens rarely and it happens for a reason."

"What reason?"

"Sometimes the shape you take reflects the person that you are." He gave me his hand and helped me up. "Even Stiles calls her cold-blooded."

"Well, what if she's immune? What if she has something else inside of her that makes her immune to the bite which is why she didn't get paralyzed."

"No one's immune. We've never seen it or heard of it. It's n... It's never happened." He argued.

"What about Jackson?" He looked away. "That's why you tested him, isn't it? Because you gave him what he wanted, didn't you?"

"Scott..."

"You said the bite either kills you or turns you. You were probably hoping that he would die. But nothing happened, right? You have no idea why do you?"

"No." Derek's jaw clenched and I knew I struck a never, so I pressured on buying more time.

"I have a theory. That she's immune and that somehow, she passed it on to Jackson. You know I'm right."

"No!

"You can NOT do this!"

"Look, I can't let her live! You should've known that."

"I was hoping I could convince you but then, I wasn't counting on it." He looked at me frazzled as to what I meant, I just smirked.

(Y/N)'s POV

Being stuck with Stiles and Lydia in the library is torture, an experiment I did not want to know the result of. Actually, just Stiles. Ever since Chemistry he had been on our trail like a lost puppy. Lydia and I had a project to work with, and he was just in the way. He was acting so weird and fidgety, more than usual.

"Hey, Allison. What are you doing here?" Lydia said looking behind her.

"Oh nothing, just wondering if you wanted to get together for a study group."

"Sure, that would actually maybe let the tension leave this group," I said and as we were leaving, Jackson joined.

"Study group? I'm coming with."

"Great." We left through the back door of the library, lord knows why, and we were walking at top speed.

"If we're doing a study group why don't we just stay in the library?" Lydia said. I was asking myself the same thing but since everyone else had stood up, I just followed.

"Because we're meeting up with somebody else."

"Why don't they just meet us at the library?" I asked.

"Oh, that would have been a great idea! Too late."

"Okay, hold on..." Lydia started saying but Jackson stopped her by grabbing her arm.

"Lydia, shut up and walk." Jerk.

We all got inside of Stile's jeep since he thought it would be faster that way because we were already late. It was an awkward ride to what I learned was Scott's house. No one said much except for the casual groan or scoff coming from Lydia.

"If we're meeting at Scott's house, where's Scott?" Lydia asked.

"Meeting us here. I think. I hope." Stiles said as he led us up to the front steps and into Scott's house.

Once inside he closed every single lock there was on the door. My reaction was involuntary as I stared at the slim boy in front of me as if he was another worldly creature.

"Uh, there's been a few break-ins in the neighborhood." He then put a chair on the doorknob and now Lydia joined in the stare. "And a murder. Yeah, it was bad."

"Lydia, follow me. I need to talk to you for a minute." Jackson spoke up.

"Seriously, what is going on with everyone?" Lydia said exasperated.

"Actually, I've been thinking the same thing. What the hell is going on?" I asked once Jackon and Lydia were out of sight.

"Nothing. Like we said it's just a study group." Stiles answered and I crossed my arms against my chest. Groveling for an answer seemed completely futile in this situation.

Allison's POV

"You know what, (Y/N). Why don't you go into the kitchen and help yourself to anything or go upstairs and lay down? I think Scott will take a while."

"O-kay?" She headed upstairs with an audible sigh and I motioned to Stiles to give me his phone to dial Scott.

"Hey, it's me. You need to get here. Quick." I looked outside and saw Derek and his pack waiting. I looked at the phone after Scott hung up and started dialing my dad's number.

"What are you doing?"

"I think... I think I have to call my dad."

"But if he finds you here, you and Scott..."

"I know." I stared at him. "What are we supposed to do? They're not here to scare us, okay, they're here to kill Lydia... Or, or even (Y/N)." We stood in silence and I debated on whether if it would be a good idea to call my father. If I did my relationship with Scott would be completely and truly over and if I didn't there could be a chance I would be down a friend or even a cousin.

"I've got an idea." I looked at a nervous Stiles. "Shoot one of them."

"Are you serious?"

"We told Scott we could protect ourselves. So, let's do it, at least give it a shot, right?" I debated for a moment.

"Okay." I don't think I sounded too confident.

"Look, they don't think we're gonna fight, so one of them gets hit, I guarantee they'll take off. So just shoot one of them." His reasoning made sense. I looked outside.

"Which one?"

"Um, Derek, preferably in the head."

"Stiles, if Scott can catch an arrow, Derek definitely can."

"Okay, ah, just shoot one of the other three."

"You mean two?"

"I mean three." Quickly he moved the curtains aside and looked outside to check on the pack. "Where's Isaac?" Without being able to think I was attacked and thrown to the ground and so was Stiles. I don't know how but Isaac found a way in.

(Y/N)'s POV

I was laying down on the bed of what I hoped was a guest room, scrolling through my phone when I heard a crash downstairs. I guess Lydia heard it too because when I looked outside the hallway, there she was. We moved slowly and carefully. After, I started to hear snarling and crashing.

"What's happening?" Lydia cried and I half hugged her as reassurance.

"Get back. Someone's trying to break in, okay? Go." Allison appeared from around the corner.

"I can help," I said.

"Stay." We didn't move. "Guys, go!" We both ran back to the room she was with Jackson and closed the door. Yet, Jackson was nowhere in sight.

"Jackson?!" Lydia screamed and we made our way to the bathroom locking the door.

"Who are you calling?" I asked Lydia as she took out her phone.

"Hi, I-I need the police. Th-there's someone trying to break in." She turned off the light and I heard the door outside slam.

"Stiles! It's here!" Allison screamed. What the hell was IT? Then the door crashed down. Lydia started squirming so I engulfed her in a hug and tried my best to calm her nerves.

"We're gonna be alright." But honestly, I was just as scared. Once silence was the only thing surrounding us, I checked the room. "Okay, I think it's gone. We'll go out slowly."

She nodded and followed me out of the bathroom and later out of the room. We made our way calmly down the hallway and the stairs. That's when I heard the worst screech ever and it was not human. We both ran outside to see what had made such an awful sound and were met by Derek, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Scott, Stiles, and Allison. What the hell were they all doing here, and why were Erica and Isaac limp on the floor?

"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"

"It's Jackson," Scott said. What could that possibly mean?

After everyone had calmed down, Stiles took us back to the school to look for our abandoned cars. As I made my way to my bike, Allison stopped me. Claiming that she was too worried about my safety. Not having the energy to fight, I obliged and got into her car alongside Lydia, who was still a bit shaken from the events.

"I need you to promise that you both won't say anything about what just happened." Allison staged the statement as a request but it was clearly a command.

"I promise not to say anything about what just happened if you could tell me what the HELL just happened," Lydia said, exasperated.

"I'm with Lydia on that one."

"It's kinda complicated." Allison sighed.

"How about you start with why Derek was there?" I spoke. "And Isaac and all of those kids from school?"

"Or where Jackson went or what is wrong with Erica?" She looked down. "Need to come up with a possible lie?"

"Part of the reason I am asking is because Scott and I aren't supposed to be seeing each other, okay?" Seriously? That's your excuse "So it's better if you just keep what you know to yourselves."

"Fine. I'll keep what I know about you and your boyfriend, which is nothing, to myself." Lydia started to get out, but Allison held her back.

"Hey, he's not just my boyfriend, you get that right?"

"Let me go." The strawberry blonde spat.

"Just for one second, please try and remember. "

"Remember what?!" Lydia turned.

"Remember what it feels like. All those times in school when you see him standing in the hall and you cannot breathe until you're with him or those times in class when you can't stop looking at the clock because you know that he is standing right out there, waiting for you. Don't you remember what that's like?"

"No."

"What do you mean no? You've had boyfriends."

"Not like that." She closed the door and left. Allison stared at her until she had reached the door to her house before starting the car back up.

"I know you're lying. This has nothing to do with your relationship with Scott. Maybe like five percent but when you look at the whole picture it's not. So, why don't you actually tell me the truth or I swear I will get out of this car."

"We're moving."

"Doesn't mean I won't jump out."

"What do you want me to say?!"

"The truth. Just tell me why the hell everyone has been acting so weird?"

"You're one to talk." She scoffed.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You! Ever since you've arrived you have pushed everyone away, even though all they have been is nice to you. You're alienating yourself for no reason."

"No reason?! How about the fact that I don't want to grow attached to anyone because I know that once the year ends, I'm gone? It has been like that for almost ten fucking years. Allison, you have only had to move about three times in your life, maybe four. I have been moving every single year since I was eight years old. Don't you think that it doesn't hurt to leave behind people you have grown to love and won't see again, possibly forever?"

"I didn't think..." she sighed.

"Exactly, you didn't think because you don't understand. The last time I grew close to someone, I had to say goodbye and you know what happened?" She shook her head no. "She was bullied into attempting suicide. I did that."

"Are you talking about Josie?" I nodded, roughly wiping away the tears that had spilled. "That wasn't your fault. It was tragic but there was nothing you could have done. You didn't do it."

"I did. She was alone because I left, and I couldn't protect her. She won't even answer my messages. Now, I don't associate myself with people so I don't have to care about what happens to them. That way it doesn't hurt once I leave."

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N), I didn't know you felt that way. But don't push me away. I will always be a constant in your life. I'm your cousin, I will always be with you." She hugged me and wiped away any other tears left. "I love you but get out."

"Dude, you just ruined the moment."

"No, I mean we're at your house and I have to get home. I love you." She smiled and I got out of the car. Before I could say anything else, she sped off. She knew there was a conversation still lingering and she was trying to avoid it. I just hoped I didn't have to explain myself to anyone else.

I entered the empty house, making sure all the doors were locked, and made my way up the stairs. Opening my bedroom door, Brody jumped off my bed and onto me, slathering my face with kisses.

"Hey, buddy. I missed you too," I laughed. Being near him instantly calmed me and helped me feel more at ease after the night I had.

I changed into my pajamas, too tired to shower, and cuddled with Brody on my bed. Talking about my past always made me tense. I tried my best to stray away from the topic and reveal as little as possible as I could, but it always found a way to be uncovered. As hard as I tried it was the dark cloud that would always follow me around. All I could do was avoid the whole thing as much as I could and hope they didn't bring it up again.

With Brody's warmth next to me, I quickly nodded off to sleep and melted the stress of the day.

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lilacmeadows · 4 years ago

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Made For You pt. 2

Omg you guys thank you so much for all the support! Part 1 was my first fic and you guys were so sweet. I had to get started on part 2 right away. If you want to be on my taglist, just let me know! This is just leading up to the next few chapters that’s just gonna be FILTHY. I needed a bit of backstory to be satisfied, but now that the boring part is out of the way, I’m gonna go research other names for genitals. Hope you enjoy! -Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

“Make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.”

When she was first taken, of course she was scared. She didn’t know why, where she was going, if she’d be rescued. It was a painful adjustment, and some days it was as if the tears would never stop. It’s not like she was worth anything to anyone who mattered, her family wasn’t rich. Just her mom and brother. They lived a happy and normal life.

She’d guess it didn’t really matter. At the age of 10, y/n was old enough to understand basic concepts, carry a conversation with adults, and she had strict teachers in school, so she knew how to behave.

What she didn’t know was how to be a wife. Or a ‘life-partner’. None of the Men would ever call her a future ‘wife’. She was training to be a mate. Someone the Soldat could own and connect with so he didn’t fly off the rails if things got out of control. If he got out of their control. Every morning, a watcher would wake her up at 8AM so she could stretch, eat, and meditate. By 10AM, her first trainer of the day would come in and teach her the schooling she was missing. Just basic math and reading, a little German, and a little Russian. Not enough for her to eavesdrop on their plans, but enough to understand her Soldat if he didn’t feel like speaking English.

At 1PM, another trainer would come and bring her to the small kitchenette down the hall. They had no intention of domesticating the ‘couple’, but she was learning to be a woman- of course the Men would have her start in the kitchen. She would learn very simple meals that could feed a fully grown man, and usually had something light for lunch herself. The men brought her the other 2 meals a day. At 3PM she would have lessons on ‘Womanhood’. At least that’s what she called it. A trainer would come in and teach her a never-ending list of rules that she had to follow in order to be a ‘lady’. It reminded her of an old Barbie movie she would watch when she was little. There was a song called ‘To Be a Princess’, where a poor girl learned how to act proper. Once she started seeing herself as that princess, the days got a little easier. Some days, they would go over how to sit and lie down like a lady. Others, they would walk laps around the halls open to her, reviewing how to walk on the balls of her feet. She learned to talk in short sentences with excellent manners, and how to brush her hair, so she could look more presentable for her Soldat.

Over the years of compliance, the trainers softened on her just as the watchers had. Of course, they were still horrible people, but they knew she was a kind girl at heart and wouldn’t cause trouble. Some days, she would be made to sit perfectly still with a stack of books on her head, while her trainer would tell her something silly happening outside the walls of the building that became her home. She learned little bits of information about their lives, music, art. But never anything political or having to do with who the Men even worked for. That was strictly forbidden. They would let her color in her free time. Sometimes a watcher would bring a book from his home for her to read, and when she was old enough, she was given a few colors of yarn and started knitting sweaters and scarves on plastic needles. She didn’t have a clock, but she would learn by the rotating shifts of her watchers what time of day it was.

There were children whose lives sucked more than hers. And for that, she was grateful.

When she got older (let’s say 18), the training started to change. She never knew what day it was, or even what year. She had stopped keeping track so long ago, but the changes were made gradually. She would be made to read books on intimacy, and then watch videos of men brutally ravishing ladies about her size. She had to learn what to do to please her Soldat, without being taught physically. This made her happy. The thought of any of the watchers or trainers doing that to her made her sick. And everyone thought it was in her best interest to be completely innocent to the touch of a man when she has her first encounter with the Soldat.

Which turned out exactly as planned. But on the day Steve and Sam plucked her out of her bedroom, she was not expecting the Soldat to be sitting right in front of her. In all his glory.

The quinjet was eerily silent for all of seven seconds before Clint had the audacity to continue the conversation he started.

“You make the soldier happy?” was the best the shocked man could come up with.

“I haven’t met him yet, but I’m ready. They made me ready for him.” y/n said with bright, hopeful eyes. Her words flowed so easily, they sounded rehearsed.

“Do we tell her?” Tony asked Steve, who was getting greener by the second. He couldn’t believe he just got his best friend back, not two weeks ago, and now he has to worry about a girl who’s obsessed with said best friend.

“I don’t think we really have a choice.” Steve replied, taking a deep breath. The whole quinjet looked like they were holding their breath. y/n still didn’t know the names of the three men on the opposite side of the quinjet. Two of them standing together, pausing their conversation, and the brooding man, who everyone keeps looking at.

“y/n, meet Bucky.” Steve said, pointing at the man across from her. But ‘Bucky’ went completely over her head- the name being unfamiliar to her.

“Hello, sir. Pleased to meet you.” She said, offering a genuine smile, but clearly not picking up what Steve was putting down. Clint chimed in again, wanting to be out of his confused misery.

“Wait a second. Y/n. You mean the soldier, as in the Winter Soldier?” Y/n immediately nodded at hearing that name. She knew her Soldat went by that name. “As in that guy right there?”

Her eyes went wide at the realization. He was sitting right in front of her. Staring at her since the minute she stepped onto the plane. And he was gorgeous. Long hair, thick thighs, piercing blue eyes, and a jaw that could probably cut glass. But he looked upset. Pissed really, and that scared her. She had one job: Make the Soldat happy. And there she was, barely presentable. She hadn’t even addressed him properly, how she was taught. With all the eyes on her, she felt a blush rush through her whole body at the embarrassing thought. But she had to. He wouldn’t like her if she didn’t follow the rules she grew up with.

Y/n daintily stood up and walked until she was right in front of Bucky. He held her eye contact the entire way, still not having said one word during this whole exchange. She gently knelt down until she was on her knees in front of him.

“I hope I can make you happy, my Soldat. I am a gift from the Men who take care of us, and I am entirely yours.” Bucky’s jaw twitched. He hadn’t said anything this whole time, but his mind was moving at lightning speed. He watched this gorgeous, barely dressed girl sit across from him, and was already in awe. But then that girl got on her knees and declared her loyalty to him? In front of everyone he knows? He couldn’t lie to himself, he’d never been more turned on. But everything about this was wrong. She was just a Stockholm Syndrome’d girl who wanted to follow orders. But her orders were to make him happy. He finally broke eye contact with her to see Tony’s shocked face looking over at Bruce and Thor, to make sure he’s not hallucinating this.

“Y/n, you should stand up.” He said to her in a hushed tone. Probably harsher than he meant to. He could see her visibly take a breath at the sound of his voice, his eyes followed the gentle slope of her neck down to her breast. She dreamed for years about what his voice would sound like, and it just rolled over her. But she quickly obeyed and stood in front of his seat. He expected her to say something else, but she was silent then. Her previous outburst was one of the few exceptions to her ‘only talk when spoken to’ rule. “What do you want? Where is your family so we can take you home?” He asked her. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. He didn’t want her was all she could assume. She was made for him, so why was he turning her away?

“I want to make you happy, sir. It’s all I want. Please let me be good for you. I promise, I’ll be so good for you.” Begging was familiar to her from her studies. She didn’t expect to be begging for her to be able to please him, but she would do whatever it took to get him to keep her.

“No. Y/n. This isn’t right. You were being kept there, whatever Hydra told you to do is over. You’re free now.” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks and it broke his heart. She tried to cover her face with her hands. He didn’t want to see her cry, nor did he want to turn her away, but he also couldn’t just let her be his sex slave. It wasn’t right.

“Please don’t be sad. This is for the best-” He tried to reason with her, but when he took her hand off her face so she would look at him, the contact only made her sob harder. This was all she wanted.

“Buck, I think we should just let her sit for a minute. Can you grab her some water? Tony and I will try to figure out where she was from.” Steve said to Bucky- trying to end this painful and awkward situation. Bucky stood and walked to another area of the quinjet. He was grateful to be able to use this time to think.

“Y/n, we’re gonna need your help to get you home okay. What’s your last name? How old are you?”

“Y/L/N” And then she went quiet. It never occurred to her that she didn’t know how old she was. Of course, she remembered her birthday, but she couldn’t tell the weeks and months apart, so she hadn’t celebrated it since she turned 10 in 2006. “What year is it?”

“When did they take you?” Steve asked gently. Being a man from another time, he could remember well the day he woke up in 2011 when it was supposed to be 1944. He knew how jarring it was to discover all the time that’s been lost, and wanted to spare her that grief.

“2006. I was 10.” She looked at him, and she could tell it’s not just 2008 by the look on his face. She knew her body went through changes over her time with the Men, but between the ‘dietary supplements’ they gave her, and the fact that she wasn’t looking in a mirror- much less shopping for clothes- she didn’t realize she had fully completed puberty.

“Y/n, it’s 2016. You’re 20 now.” And that made the tears come harder. But she wasn’t so upset about the 10 years of her life. She was mad at 20 years of her life wasted. Since Bucky didn’t want her, all of the training was for nothing. She knew living for him made her the definition of a broken person- she wasn’t dumb. The idea of her Soldat was what grounded her all that time. When she was lonely, she’d think about the man the Men always tell her about. They told her how he was their ‘greatest asset’. And she often fantasized about if he would fall in love with her. So by the time she met him, she had already been in love with him for much longer than she’d care to admit- which makes the heartbreak of rejection hurt that much more.

Unfortunately for Bucky, his heart was heavy too. He tucked away into the tiny bed area on the jet after quickly handing Steve the water to give to y/n. It was too much. Being in that room with her, she looked at him like he hung the moon. But he most certainly had not. He was a murderer. Tony’s father was a scientist during the war, and Bucky knew him pretty well through Steve. And he killed him. He had scattered memories of hurting dozens of people, so why would she be so willing to be with someone like him?

Part of him wanted it. After almost a century of not owning anything and not having a choice, he was given the opportunity to have something that belonged only to him. A gift from the men who take care of us. If it wasn’t cruel, he would have laughed in her face. Maybe she was taken care of, but he most certainly wasn’t. She was brought in young enough to still be under the impression that Hydra wasn’t evil, just strict. He imagined for a minute how things could have turned out for the two of them if he hadn’t gotten free. If Hydra really was planning on giving him a gift. He didn’t like the last gift they gave him in the shape of an arm, but y/n was perfect. She was the perfect size for him- although his broad frame could dwarf most women. And her smile pulled at his heart.

He wanted to kiss her the minute he saw her. He knew he wanted to make her his.

And that was bad.

He rubbed his hand over his face and decided to rejoin the group in the middle of their conversation. Thor and Bruce decided to stop being passive members of the conversation and introduced themselves. Y/n was very confused at Thor’s proclamation as ‘God of Thunder’, but with all that was happening, she didn’t feel it was her place to question it.

“- a good thing we have spare rooms at the compound. You can stay as long as you like.” Tony finished speaking to y/n just as Bucky was walking into the room. “We’re gonna have a new house guest MC.” He waggled his eyebrows at the man who caught the back half of that conversation.

Bucky’s jaw dropped. This would only make the situation much harder than it needed to be. He looked to Steve for an explanation. The blond stood up and made his way over to Bucky.

“Look, Hydra scrubbed her records off of every database and-” He took a deep sigh, “Her family is dead, Buck. They probably killed them after they took her.”

Then it was Bucky’s turn to sigh. He knew the right thing to do was to help her, but he also knew how much he wanted to feel her soft skin in his hands. And that made her dangerous to be around.

What nobody knew was why Hydra took the 10 year old from Georgia. In 2006, the Winter Soldier was sent on a mission to kill a scientist that lived there. Of course the poor guy didn’t have a chance when the Soldier was sitting in his house, waiting for him when he got home, but what the Soldier wasn’t expecting was a little girl to be coming inside with him. The scientist looked sleazy and didn’t have any children, so who knows what would have happened to her if the Soldier didn’t get there in time. She screamed and cried. The comm in his ear commanded him to kill the girl for being a witness. But the part of the Soldier that was still Bucky wanted her to be safe. He shushed the little girl and asked her for her address. When she recited it to him, he rubbed her head and told her she was a good girl, before he dug his metal fingers into the child’s pressure points and she fell limp into his arms. y/n woke up in her bed, crying at the bad dream she must have had- her mother not even home yet. That was the first act of defiance Hydra ever experienced from the Winter Soldier. First sign of humanity and compassion. They knew if the mind control was getting weaker, he would be harder to control next time they unfroze him, but his protective nature of the girl would make her an asset to them.

Her capture was arranged before his heart was fully frozen in the chamber. Neither Bucky nor y/n remembered this- Bucky only remembering parts of his time under their control, and y/n never thinking about that bad dream again, but the connection was still there as strong as it was that day 10 years ago.

Part 3

#bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #stucky #james buchanan bucky barnes #the avengers #steve rodgers smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #dark!bucky barnes #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker smut #bucky fluff #chubby!bucky #winter soldier smut #winter solider x reader

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whatifxwereyou · 4 years ago

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The Oncoming Storm Part 3: Earthrealm

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: You meet the mythical Lord Raiden. He reminds you of your dad, but nicer, oddly enough. Liu Kang might also be your new best friend.

A/N: Thanks again everyone! This has been such fun. I meant to say earlier that this takes place a couple years prior to the film (also that I know a bit about MK as a game series, so I will include tidbits here and there if I can). ALSO! I am open to any suggestions that you may wish to see throughout this story- either for Liu Kang or Kung Lao. I can't guarantee I will use them but I will consider them. I am delighting in writing this!! EDIT:: lol why did no one tell me there were so many errors in this one. All fixed!

The Beginning << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

The days that followed were a struggle. Monks would visit and care for your wounds at all hours of the day. You were in and out of consciousness. When you did manage to stay awake, you would meditate and do simple exercises to keep your body strong. That was a struggle in itself. Wounds needed rest to heal but you refused to become weak to them in the meantime. You were ready to fight.

Without fail Liu Kang would visit every evening. He brought books for you to read together. On his second visit he gifted you with a crudely bound leather journal and a pen to take notes with. You were inquisitive and Liu Kang was a wealth of knowledge. On nights where you finished a book or a lesson early, you would meditate together. Other nights you would chat and often times those chats would end in swapping personal stories. You had become fast friends.

You kept a calendar in the back of the journal. Liu Kang helped account for the time that you’d lost to unconsciousness. A week had passed since you’d woken up in Raiden’s Temple. You circled the x over the day and wondered where Kung Lao was. You’d asked around about him but had been told that many of the Earthrealm warriors were often absent. Apparently, he was frequently gone for long stretches of time. Many of the monks left on lengthy errands. Mortal Kombat and the protection of Earthrealm extended far beyond China. You wondered how much of the world Kung Lao had seen. You’d barely ever left your hometown for anything other than martial arts tournaments.

“Miss Y/N?” A monk pulled aside the sheet that had been pinned around the doorway of the small closet-sized space that had become your semi-permanent dwelling. You offered the monk a tired smile and gestured to allow him to enter. The monk bowed politely. “Your presence has been requested by Lord Raiden.”

“Oh?” You had known that you would meet with the man who the temple belonged to eventually. Liu Kang had told you that you would be summoned only after you’d been deemed well enough. You hadn’t passed out in exhaustion for the last 48 hours so you supposed this was as good a time as any. “Give me a moment to change, if you will.”

“Yes, of course Miss Y/N.” The monk bowed and left you with some privacy. You’d grown accustomed to the dressing gowns. They were comfortable and since you didn’t move around much, they worked. You’d been given several lightweight gi for future training and several hanfu, traditional Chinese garments, to wear if you desired. You wished, more than anything, that you’d gotten to pack some of your things before everything had gone to hell. No t-shirts or tank tops. No jeans or leggings. Not even any cute summer dresses. But you were grateful to have anything.

You changed into the soft blue and white hanfu that had become your favorite. It was simpler in design than the others but still long and flowing. You didn’t need anything terribly fancy to have a conversation with someone. You were sure that if Lord Raiden expected you to dress up then you would have been warned. Considering that Liu Kang rotated through the same three tattered gi and was almost always covered in soot, you doubted there was a strict dress code.

After you changed, you pulled your hair up lazily with a set of chopsticks. Then you returned to the monk who was waiting for you in the hall. The monk bowed again and then led you through the halls of the temple. The floor you’d been on had very few windows and only in the hallways. You followed the monk up several ramps and flights of stairs. Endless halls branched in every direction making the whole place seem labyrinthian. You were certain that you could spend weeks exploring the halls and still manage to miss things.

If the monk hadn’t been leading you then you wouldn’t have been able to resist your curiosity. After a good thirty minutes spent walking, you were led into a dark hallway with a rounded ceiling. It disappeared into the distance lit only by odd white statues that stood in a line along its center. The monk bowed and gestured down the hall.

“Good luck, Miss Y/N.” The monk then left you alone. You approached the glass statues in the center of the hall and found their insides sparking with electricity. They were funny in that they reminded you of a sophisticated and silent Tesla coil that fired constantly. Below the frosted glass you could see currents of electricity flowing almost as you imagined lightning would through the clouds. Your fingers brushed curiously over the glass.

“Miss Y/N?” A commanding and deep voice called from the end of the hall. You felt like a child who had disobeyed your teacher and winced. You hurried down the hall as quickly as your legs would allow then bowed before entering the room at its end.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen much outside of the infirmary. I was fascinated.”

The man who stood before you was of average build and height, his face mostly obscured by his hat. You grinned in surprise and recognition but then quickly fought to hide your glee. Raiden’s expression was severe, reminding you very much of your father and the way he’d glare at you when you’d said something un-lady-like as a child.

“There is much to discuss.” He gestured for you to take a seat on the floor in front of where he was seated with his legs crossed so you did. Much to your surprise, he was floating several inches off the ground and while you tried to hide your shock, you were sure your eyes had gone wide. “I am Lord Raiden; the protector of Earthrealm.”

“It’s an honor to meet you. Liu Kang has told me a little about you.”

“I am not surprised.” Raiden had a commanding voice as well as presence so you listened attentively. He explained the nature of other realms though he didn’t go terribly in depth with their origins or existence. Outworld was their greatest opposition with the desire to control earth and humanity. They were brutal warmongers from how Raiden described them. He then explained the tournaments and how if Outworld won a tenth tournament they could lay claim to Earthrealm.

Shang Tsung, a powerful sorcerer, would lead his armies there and take humanity as slaves. You didn’t ask but you wondered if Shang Tsung was the ruler of Outworld. You figured that if it were important then Raiden would tell you. He went on to tell you that Outworld had done this before with other realms and they had been devastated into waste.

Raiden spoke in a way that made it seem as though he had lived through countless lifetimes. While his tone often sounded severe, he also spoke with great purpose. “Our next tournament will not be for a few more years. You are one of Earthrealm’s chosen warriors.” Raiden’s lecture was winding down. “Do you have any questions?” You had known much of what Raiden had taught you that day but still sat patiently through it.

“I think I understand. If I have any questions later then I can ask Liu Kang. It’s difficult for me to wrap my mind around this craziness, for lack of a better word. He’s been very patient with me. The idea of arcana and how I’m meant to fight warriors from another world is still wild to me but I understand the concept. I think with time and practice I will be better off.” You stifled a giggle and then cleared your throat to stop any further giggles from escaping.

“Is there something you find funny?”

Guilt again. The kind you’d felt exclusively around your parents.

“You’re the man with the funny hat.” Your cheeks burned when he seemed affronted by your description of him. “I don’t mean to come off as rude! Forgive me. My shop is on the edge of town and there are many travelers passing through. I remember you from one of those visits. You chose your words carefully and spoke very little. You required precious stones and, as I often do, I made polite small talk. I asked what you needed them for and you said in the protection of Earthrealm which you quickly corrected to the protection of nature. You opened my eyes long ago to the secrets of the world though I was doubtful there was any truth to it until now.”

Raiden’s expression shifted and he seemed pleased but he was also difficult to read. You hoped he was pleased. Despite his severe and intimidating presence, he seemed well meaning.

“I don’t recall this instance but am happy to learn that there are those who learn the truth without panic or dismissal.”

“So, I have to fight then.”

“More than fight. You must find your arcana so that you may stand a chance against the warriors of Outworld. They are ruthless and possess skills that may seem impossible to you. Without your arcana you will not stand a chance.”

“How do I do that? Find my arcana, I mean.”

“Through trial and adversity. Everyone is different. Your arcana is unique to you.” Raiden stood and so you did the same. “Your training will begin tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure you were ready for that but you bowed respectfully. That was tomorrow’s problem. “Thank you. I promise to work my hardest.”

Raiden said nothing but didn’t look as though he quite believed you capable. You had long ago stopped seeking the approval of others. Actions spoke louder than words and you would do as you promised. Raiden turned from you without another word. You waited for an awkward moment to be dismissed then turned and left. You chose not to linger in the hall with the pretty lightning sculptures that had distracted you earlier.

The path back to the infirmary wasn’t easily found and you wandered aimlessly for a time before asking a monk to help you back to the infirmary. You were exhausted. Upon arrival you closed the curtain to your tiny room and sat on the edge of your bed. Your arms were aching. You were sore and tired. Gravity didn’t agree with your healing wounds. Training was going to be a bitch but you would be better for it.

Retrieving the journal Liu Kang had given you, you made yourself cozy after rekindling the flame of your lantern. You went over the notes from the day before and smiled. Your handwriting was often sandwiched between his. You’d had a difficult time holding a pen for the first few days and your handwriting was atrocious. There had been times where you’d been too dazed with exhaustion so Liu would take over and explain what he was writing down. He was incredibly considerate.

You drifted to sleep leaning against the wall behind your narrow bed, book in your arms. In your very brief dreams you’d been seated with a young Kung Lao in the field outside of your grandparents’ farm. The more you remembered of him the more you could see the man he’d grown up to be.

A knock against stone startled you awake and you jumped upright. Standing in your doorway, peering through the curtain was Liu Kang. He seemed surprised.

“Did I wake you?” He stepped inside and closed the curtain behind him for privacy. How long had you slept? Crap.

“What time is it? Did I sleep through training?”

“No.” He laughed and it was a welcome and comforting sound. “It’s quite late but I was busy today and had no time until now. I wished to see you before bed.” He spoke of you with such fondness that if you hadn’t been half asleep then you probably would have blushed. You adjusted yourself and made room for him to sit next to you on the bed as you often had while reading. He joined you gratefully. You watched as he brushed his thumb over the prayer beads that often went from wrapped around his wrist to his palm and back again. “Tomorrow is going to be difficult, Y/N.”

You guessed that he would be the one training you. He was one of the only warriors with the marking that stayed in Raiden’s Temple besides Kung Lao that you knew of.

“Promise not to pull any punches, okay?”

“I knew you would say that.” He nudged your shoulder with his.

“I mean it, Liu. It’s been over two weeks since this happened. I’m ready to fight. If I’m going to survive all of this… otherworldly supernatural nonsense then I have no choice. Besides that… I want to do this. I want to fight.”

“I need you to promise to be safe.”

“That’s very sweet, Liu, but I’m a fighter. I’ve been fighting for years. I’m ready to help and more importantly, I’m ready to feel strong again. This thing with the poison and my arms? It’s taken a toll on me. I need to be okay.”

“I understand, I think.” He slipped the beads back around his wrist and caught a glimpse of the journal that you’d fallen asleep holding. Then he looked back toward the door. He was nervous. You could feel it.

“Are you okay, Liu?”

“I’m fine.” He picked up the journal and tapped the pages. “Would you like to study?”

“Can’t sleep, can you?”

“Oh, right. It’s late. I apologize. I woke you. I should let you rest.” He stood, bowed, and then turned to leave. Without thinking, you grabbed his hand. If your arms hadn’t been aching, you would have pulled him back to you. Liu Kang was very aware of the strain that it would put on you to pull so he stopped dead in his tracks. He was always aware of what was going on around him and your aching arms appreciated that more than ever.

“You can stay. We can keep reading. I’d like that.” You insisted. Liu Kang smiled and so you let go of his hand, realizing that you’d been holding it for perhaps too long. He grabbed a hefty book that had been resting beneath your side table. You’d made your way a quarter through it over the past few days. Then you sat together, leaning against the wall. He read to you and his soothing voice nearly lulled you back to sleep. It provided you with a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a long time. Studying with him, even in your worst moments of pain, had become a fond memory.

The words were familiar and so you snapped one eye open. “We already read this.” You waited for a pause in his natural cadence.

“No, we did not.”

“We did, look.” You pointed to your journal and the scribbles in it from the night before. Your handwriting really was terrible. You could make out bits and pieces of it. Liu had the patience of a saint for trying to decipher it. He squinted at the letters.

“I can’t read that. No one can read that, Y/N.” He tapped the page you had pointed to. “That could say almost anything. Are you bored with the history of the Wu Shi Academy?”

“No! We were just further along than this, that’s all. Look, just…” You shoved the journal in front of the book and he laughed. His laugh was sweet and filled with warmth. “I think that this is highlighting this passage here about the foundations and the energy wells beneath it…”

“You can’t possibly read that. We have established that it’s gibberish.”

“I wrote it! I can sort of make out little bits…”

“We have to work on your penmanship, Y/N.”

“I got all sliced up where the tendons and stuff are. They’re still healing!” You whined and then pouted. Liu took the journal and set it on the bed just beyond your feet. You reached past him and turned the pages of the book, searching for the next chapter. “At least get to the part with the arena. You promised that we would learn about that next. You went on and on about it.”

“I did no such thing. You can admit that you’re bored.” Liu teased. You flipped the pages again without his permission so he tried to tug the book away and you jolted to the side with him, hair falling into your face, chopsticks now useless. Much to your surprise, as you righted yourself, Liu helped you and pushed your messy hair away and tucked some of it behind your ear. Your laughter subsided and you avoided his eyes as his admired you. You swore your heart skipped a beat. “Your hair.” He brushed a few strands between his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh?” You dared to look into his dark eyes that were rivers of thought and emotion. You had no aspirations of unraveling them. You liked their mystery.

“The color.”

“Oh, yeah… I uh… I haven’t been able to keep up with dye here and it’s naturally white.” You pointed to the roots that had begun to show.

“White? That’s peculiar.”

“Wow, thanks. Yeah, I know it’s weird.”

“I didn’t mean any offense. It looks nice.” He seemed to realize that his hand was very much still in your hair. His tongue ran nervously over his lower lip while he was lost briefly in thought before he pulled his hand back. “We’ll read about the arena but only because you have chosen to entertain me at a late hour instead of turning me away.”

“And because you realized I was right.” You joked but your stomach was very much in knots. This was no time to be feeling butterflies in your stomach but there they were. Liu Kang made you feel butterflies. Literal butterflies. You hadn’t understood that idiom until now.

“There will be a test, Y/N.” He joked and smoothed out the pages of the book. You retrieved the journal and pen but had given up on writing notes for the night. Your arms were still aching and you were drained. Liu delighted in sharing a map of the ancient arena and reciting battles that he’d won and lost there. His voice was a soothing and familiar drone and before you realized it, you were falling asleep, head falling against his shoulder.

Instead of leaving you there to sleep, Liu Kang continued to read. Sometime later you woke up and the flame in the lantern had gone dim. Liu was still seated next to you, his head now rested atop yours. From his soft, slow breaths, you guessed that he had fallen asleep too. The book was rested neatly on top of your journal as if he had made the decision to put it aside and stay. You should wake him and send him back to his room. He would be more comfortable there. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay. He’d chosen to stay so you decided to let him have his choice.

For the first time since you’d woken up in Raiden’s Temple, you went to sleep feeling secure and comfortable.

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imlovethomassanders · 4 years ago

Text

Eyes are the Windows to the Soul(mates) - Chapter 5 (FINAL)

You can also read on ao3

One last huge thank you to @strongindependentcheesecake for beta reading this whole thing. I appreciate it.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Summary: The lucky few who have a soulmate are born with heterochromia, with their left eye being the color of their soulmate’s eyes and their right eye being their own color. Not only was Virgil one of the lucky few to have a soulmate, but he was given four. His left eye changed colors every time he blinked, rotating between his four soulmates’ eye colors. His rotating eye colors caused him to be a bit of an outcast growing up, but when he finally leaves for college, things start to fall into place. This is the journey of five strangers finding each other.

Pairings: DLAMP with background Remile

Warnings: None I believe

Words: 4999

Taglist: @touchstarvedvirgil @lamp-calm-sanders @ninjago2020 @confinesofpersonalknowledge @secret-novelisthost18 @phander-sides @sherlock-lives-on-bakerstreet @bookbingingproblem @viana-dascolli @sharktryingtofly @crofters-n-falsehoods @turnedthefreakingfrogsgay @little-kat07 @romano-hottopic

Patton was very, very, very excited. It was finally time. They had all finished school and they were finally moving in together!!

Patton couldn't help but be giddy as he helped bring up boxes into their shared condo. While it was more expensive than getting an apartment, with four of them (hopefully five, soon!), the extra space was very much needed.

Patton was just so happy to finally have his three soulmates together. He couldn't help but constantly be hugging on one of them. While it was a bit inconvenient while they were unpacking boxes, none of them dared complain about it when Patton was pressing such soft kisses all over their faces.

When they had unpacked enough boxes to be considered livable, they all collapsed onto the mattress on the floor, their bed frame coming later that week.

"We need to go grocery shopping tomorrow. We can not live off the snack cakes and cheez-itz Patton brought," Logan said.

"That's how I lived throughout high school," Virgil said.

"I can not and will not let you resume such a diet," Logan responded.

"Well tonight, I'm ordering take-out," Roman said as he pulled out his phone.

Nobody objected. They were all too tired to even think of going to buy things to cook with. And then they'd have to unpack the dishes and dear god Patton was getting exhausted just thinking about it.

Forty minutes and a bunch of Chinese take-out containers later, the four of them were back on the mattress.

"The spare room can be a studio!" Roman mused. "Logan and I can use it for our writings while you two can use it to paint."

"I am quite excited to get the bookshelves up," Logan said. "The new ones we bought are very nice."

"I'll finally have a good place to keep all my records, and- hey, Pat? Are you okay?"

Patton wiped the tears that had quietly fallen down his face.

"It's just... I'm so happy to finally have all of us in a home together."

Virgil gave him a lopsided grin and pulled him against his chest. "I promise, the feeling is mutual."

"Well... almost all of us," Roman said, a hint of sadness in his smile. Patton paused to look at all of them, their beautiful eyes along with the golden one of their unfound soulmate.

"We'll find them soon," Patton whispered. "I'm sure."

"...I wonder what they'll think," Virgil muttered into Patton's hair. "When they find out that the four of us have been together for a while."

"I pray they're not alone," Roman muttered as he moved to spoon Vigil, reaching for Logan over Patton. "We've been so lucky to find each other..."

"It accomplishes nothing to fret over it," Logan said as he turned on his side beside Patton and took Roman's hand. "We will meet them when the time is right."

"I know," Patton huffed as he leaned against Logan. "But I can't help but be impatient."

"I wonder what they're like," Roman mused.

"Lovely. Amazing. Perfect," Patton suggested.

"Let's not set too high expectations," Logan said. "Whoever they are, they will be wonderfully flawed and wonderfully human. Not perfect."

"Hmmm, I don't know about that, Specs," Roman said with his cocky grin. "You all thoroughly and fantastically beat all my expectations."

Logan scoffed, but didn't feel like starting an argument.

Patton yawned, soon followed by Roman, then Virgil, then finally Logan.

"We really should put sheets on the mattress," Logan said, though made no effort to move.

"Yeah, probably," Patton sighed. No one moved.

"Okay," Virgil said after a moment as he pushed himself out of Roman's arms, causing Roman to whine at the loss. "Let's go get ready for bed. We can not afford a dentist's visit for cavities so get up."

Roman groaned as he fell on his back, but eventually pushed himself up alongside Patton and Logan.

Logan did manage to persuade them to put bed sheets on the mattress, and as soon as the four of them had their arms around each other they immediately fell asleep, the busy day finally catching up to them.

Virgil huffed as he pulled his hoodie tighter around him. Though he had lived here for a few months now, he still wasn't used to the large crowds and today the crowd seemed worse than usual. People were touching him from all angles and he just wanted to get home.

He stared at his phone, doing his best to text Patton while watching where he was walking. He thought he was doing an okay job when he accidently hit shoulders with another pedestrian.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Virgil said as he quickly got on his knees to help pick up the things that had fallen out of the stranger's arms: a book on philosophy, a stack of notes titled "Moral and Political Philosophy", a copy of "Lord of the Flies," and a pamphlet called "How to Care for Your Royal Python."

The stranger said nothing as he pushed up his sunglasses and quickly grabbed the papers on the ground. Virgil glanced up to see sharp cheekbones and scarring on the left side of the stranger's face. He glanced back down before he could observe much closer details, not wanting to be caught staring.

He handed the last of the papers to the stranger, and the stranger walked off with a huff. Virgil, rattled by the whole encounter, now really just wanted to get home.

"Hello!" a chorus of calls came from the living room when Virgil opened the front door. Virgil smiled as he slipped off his shoes and he heard the sound of Patton running up to him.

Patton wrapped his arms tightly around Virgil's neck and Virgil held back, grin growing larger.

Patton eventually pulled back to press a quick kiss to Virgil's lips, then leaned back to look at Virgil's face when his smile dropped and his eyes widened.

"What?" Virgil asked anxiously as his grip tightened around Patton.

"Virgil, your eyes!" Patton exclaimed. That got the attention of Logan and Roman, and Virgil heard the couch shift before the two walked around the corner.

"What about them?"

Patton frowned. "You... you don't know?"

Roman gasped and Logan's eyes widened as well, and Virgil ran to the front bathroom.

His face paled when he saw what they were talking about. In the mirror, two gray eyes were staring at him.

It could've been anyone. How many people had he talked to today? The attendant at the subway, the woman he sat next to, the barista, the employees at the art store, the man he bumped into, the woman at the crosswalk-

"Virgil?" Patton asked quietly. Virgil glanced to the doorway to see the three of them looking at him with worried expressions. It was just then that Virgil realized he was struggling to breathe.

He reached for them and immediately Logan took his hands in his, guiding him to sit on the toilet lid as Logan led him through his breathing.

"I- I don't know who," Virgil said. "I never noticed anyone's eyes today. I wasn't paying attention, I-"

Roman shushed him gently as he squatted down to be eye level with Virgil. "It'll be okay, love," he assured. "We'll find them. We know they're here, in the city. I'm sure one of us will run into them soon."

Virgil just nodded as Roman ran his hand up and down Virgil's arm. He let himself lean against Roman, head resting on his shoulder, trying to ignore his running thoughts of what is their soulmate is just a tourist and they leave the city before they get to meet them, or what if it's forever until they meet again because the city's population is so large and-

"Virgil, dear, you're spiraling," Logan said as he squeezed Virgil's hands, causing Virgil to blink back into focus.

"Come to the couch with us, hm?" Roman asked as he placed gentle kisses on Virgil's head.

"We'll watch your favorite movie?" Patton asked. Virgil couldn't help but smile. They were trying to distract him from his own thoughts. It wasn't easy, but a few kisses and cuddles were usually enough to at least quiet them down a bit.

"Yeah, okay."

It was only a few days later as Roman was rushing down the subway station steps. Today was an audition he really wanted to make, so of course it was just his luck that he was almost running late. He quickly swiped his card and went through the turnstile, running towards the subway platform.

Panic rushed through him as he saw the doors closing. And in a move that he would call "brave" and Logan and Virgil would call "idiotic", he risked it. He ran towards the door and just barely made it through, though his momentum caused him to run straight into someone standing, causing them to let go of the hand rail and stumble back.

The man glared at him as he pushed Roman off, dusting off his shirt and readjusting his messenger bag.

"Oh, my sincerest apologies. I didn't... mean... to..." Roman trailed off. He saw a man with a large scar down the left side of his face, sharp cheekbones, and some of the prettiest eyes he had even seen. His right eye was golden brown, while his left was Patton's green. The man's eyes widened as he watched Roman's left eye morph from his gold into Roman's own dark brown, and a large grin grew on Roman's face.

The subway started and Roman was jolted forward. His soulmate reached out and steadied him.

"Hi," Roman said breathlessly.

"...Hi."

Neither said anything for a moment when his soulmate realized he was still holding onto Roman and quickly let go.

"I'm Roman."

"I'm-"

"One of the most gorgeous men I've ever had the privilege of seeing?" Roman said, so quietly he was almost worried his soulmate didn't hear it, but the slight blush growing on his cheeks told him that he did.

"I'm Janus."

"You have no idea how wonderful it is to have finally found you."

"I believe I have a better idea than you think."

Roman flushed.

"I see you've met the others," Janus said, just a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Which one did I happen to run into that day?"

"Virgil," Roman smiled. "You met Virgil. He'll be really glad I found you. He was really freaking out about it."

"Virgil," Janus repeated quietly to himself.

"And there's Patton, the green, and Logan, the blue. Oh, you must let me bring you to the apartment, they'll adore you. They'll be so excited when I tell them-"

Roman was interrupted by the subway intercom announcing its arrival to the next station. Alarm shot through Roman when he realized this was his stop, but he had something much more important to attend to now.

"This is your stop?" Janus asked, though it wasn't really a question. "Where are you headed?"

"An audition," Roman said as the subway came to a stop. Roman hadn't grabbed hold of the handrail and had to be yet again saved by Janus to keep from stumbling. "But it's not that important."

Janus raised his eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

"I can skip. Let me take you somewhere. Have you had lunch yet? I-"

"Oh, stop," Janus said as the doors opened. He grabbed a pen from his bag and took Roman's arm, pushing up his coat sleeve to quickly write his number. "I have a job interview to go to. And even if I didn't, I would not let you sacrifice your audition for a date."

Date. Date. It clicked in Roman's mind that he would not be able to take this gorgeous man out on dates and he felt his face grow red again.

"Call me when you're finished," Janus said as he pulled Roman's coat sleeve back down.

He then proceeded to take Roman's hand in his and bend down to kiss it gingerly. "And good luck," he looked up and said with what he knew was a charming smirk. He then proceeded to nearly push Roman off the subway right before the doors closed, Leaving Roman a bit flustered and speechless on the subway platform.

Roman walked out of that audition room fucking delighted. Using his newfound excitement and adrenaline, he felt he did really well at the audition, and the director and casting director seemed to like him pretty well. He was feeling good about his chances.

But now he could finally do what he truly wanted to do the whole time. He pulled out his phone and called Janus.

"Janus?" Roman asked as soon as the line was answered.

"Hello, Roman," Janus replied. And though Roman barely knew him, he could already hear the confident grin that accompanied the lilt in his voice. "Doing well?"

"Doing fantastic. I think it went really well. I think I really captured the intricacies of the character, and not to brag but I'm pretty sure the director loved me. She said that I- Oh. Uh. How did your interview go?"

Janus chuckled. "It went well. I'm glad to hear your audition did, as well. Care to tell me about it over tea?"

Roman was already too far gone. "I'd love that."

"I picked a spot a few blocks away from the subway station you got off. I'll text you the address. Shall I order you a drink?"

This cafe was not one of the quick and cheap coffee grabs Roman and Virgil would go to each morning. This one was larger, not crammed between two other buildings. It had floor to ceiling windows with hanging plants surrounding the edges. And inside, sitting at a table by the window, was Janus - sipping a cup of tea and reading.

Roman couldn't help the large grin that grew on his face when he saw Janus. The bell above the door dinged and a smile also grew on Janus' face when he looked up and saw Roman.

"Don't screw this up, don't screw this up, don't screw this-"

"I ordered your tea," Janus' smooth voice interrupted Roman's thoughts. "I also asked for honey. I know actors swear by it."

"Thank you," Roman smiled as he sat down, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants.

"So you're an actor?" Janus asked as he lifted his tea to his lips. Roman flashed a grin he hoped was confident as his hands gripped his pants.

"Indeed I am!" Roman said. "I have a degree in theatre and have been acting my whole life."

Roman's knuckles turned white in his lap. He was unfamiliar with nerves that weren't the exciting rush before going onstage - these nerves made his leg shake and teeth clench, no matter how hard he tried to smile his mouth into relaxation.

"What about you? What do you do?" Roman asked as he made sure his hands weren't shaking before picking up his own cup.

"I'm getting my doctorate in philosophy, but with exams coming up I'd rather not spend a second thinking about it longer than I have to. Please, I'd love to hear more about you."

Roman desperately tried to think of anything he knew about philosophy, but of course his final soulmate would major in the one class Roman had to drop in college.

"What would you like to know?"

"What about me scares you?"

Roman quickly looked up from his teacup to look at Janus' face.

"Wha- Nothing about you scares me! Why would you say that?"

"Honey, your leg has been shaking nonstop and you won't look at me."

Roman gaped as he put his cup down. Janus' face fell just a tad, and Roman wouldn't have been able to tell if he hadn't been only focusing on Janus' expression.

"It's the scar, isn't it? I know it's off putting-"

"No!" Roman exclaimed, a bit louder than he meant to. "No. Trust me, I have been taken by your beauty the moment I saw you. The scar doesn't bother me at all."

Janus blinked in surprise before quickly recovering.

"If not that, then what's got you scared, dear?"

Roman hesitated before sitting back in his chair.

"When I met Logan, I met up with him in a coffee shop. I then proceeded to thoroughly fuck up the entire conversation. It took two weeks before we were able to spend time together like soulmates are supposed to."

"And you didn't want to fuck up this one?" Janus asked. Roman nodded, avoiding Janus' gaze.

Roman was startled when a gloved hand reached over and gently tiled his face up. Janus was looking at him with soft eyes, juxtaposed only by the huge smirk on his face.

"Roman, honey, I don't know the situation with Logan, but when a handsome man literally falls into my arms, what else am I supposed to do but be utterly taken?"

Roman blushed, and his embarrassment only grew when he chased after the hand that Janus took off his face. Janus chuckled and took Roman's hand across the table.

"The man the universe just gave me then proceeds to compliment me then offers to drop everything to spend time with me? How sweet. Naive, and a bit foolish, but so incredibly sweet."

Janus ran his thumb over Roman's knuckles the whole time. He leaned in across the table, and Roman couldn't help but follow.

"Trust me, dear Roman. Beautiful, courteous Roman. You don't have to worry about me."

And Roman was already gone.

Virgil was just lounging on the couch, scrolling through Tumblr when Patton got the phone call from Roman. He was going to bring their final soulmate to their home.

The first thing Virgil felt was relief. Relief that he hadn't screwed up, and that he hadn't missed the chance to find their final piece.

The second thing Virgil felt was joy. The three of them were ecstatic as Patton and Logan quickly tried to tidy up the apartment. Finally, after so many years of waiting, they were finally going to see them - they were on their way to their home.

The last thing Virgil felt was, unsurprisingly, anxiety. What if their final soulmate didn't like him? What if he somehow screwed up the introductions and their soulmate decided they didn't want anything to do with him? It didn't matter that Virgil had done this three times prior - meeting new people always stressed Virgil out, especially when the person was so important.

After what felt like an eternity (but was probably only twenty minutes), they heard the lock on the front door click. Patton reached for both Logan and Virgil's hands and squeezed them, and Virgil didn't know if it was to calm him or Patton himself.

Roman walked in with a wide smile on his face, and the man who followed behind him made Virgil's breath hitch.

He was even more gorgeous than Virgil remembered from the day they had run into each other. Here, Virgil could truly appreciate his features. And with no sunglasses to cover his eyes, Virgil got to watch as his eye faded from green, then blue, and finally into his own light brown.

Virgil couldn't help but glance over to Patton and Logan. Their eyes were both now only green and blue respectively, and Virgil felt a wave of fondness tighten in his chest. Their eyes were so perfect, so them. Part of Virgil knew he'd miss seeing his partners' eyes in each other, but most of him now was just in love with how beautiful they were.

Roman closed the door behind them.

"So this is-"

Before Roman could finish speaking, Patton cried out an "Oh!" and launched himself at the unsuspecting man, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

The man was startled, and awkwardly patted Patton's back, but did nothing to push him away.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you!" Patton was crying. Their soulmate's mouth twitched up in a small smile.

"It's nice to meet you, too."

Patton reluctantly let go of their soulmate and gave him a sheepish smile.

"I'm Patton."

"Janus."

"Logan." Logan stepped forward and held out his hand. Janus shook it while Roman bit his lip to keep from laughing. It was an odd time to be so practical, Virgil thought, but another fond wave washed through him because that's just how Logan was.

Janus then looked over at Virgil.

"I've met you."

"Yeah, um. Sorry about that. Running into you I mean," Virgil said and immediately winced. Janus raised an eyebrow.

"Come sit!" Patton said as he ushered the four of them into the living room. "I'll make coffee! Or tea. Or cocoa. Which do you like, Janus?"

Virgil watched as Janus placed his now empty tea mug on a coaster. He couldn't help but watch him, even if it made him feel extremely creepy. He was a bit overwhelmed from the suddenness of everything, so he wasn't speaking very much. Janus didn't seem to mind as he conversed with the others.

Virgil could tell the others (and himself, if he was being honest) already adored Janus. With his smooth voice and sharp wit, it was easy to be captivated.

Patton, who was sitting in between Janus and Virgil on the couch, heard Virgil's stomach grumbled once the afternoon started to meld into evening. With all the excitement earlier in the day, Virgil had forgotten to eat lunch and hadn't thought about it until now.

After shoving a granola bar in Virgil's hands, Patton offered to pick up food from a nearby restaurant. Logan went with him, and Virgil graciously let Roman lead the conversation.

"I just prefer the more classic musicals of Broadway," Janus said with a wave of his hand as he reclined into the couch. "Many of the new musicals are too poppy for me."

"Even so, the new ones are so good!" Roman said as he leaned forward in his chair. Virgil himself leaned against the arm of the couch, waiting for a moment he felt comfortable interjecting. "Modern musicals may not have the same charm as the classics, but that doesn't make the music or script any less enjoyable."

"Don't even get me started on the Hollywood takeover of Broadway," Janus said. "I am so tired of these musical adaptations of movies. We need to stop letting film companies take the theatres and give chances to new playwrights and original stories."

"That... you're mostly right on. But the Mean Girls musical has some bops."

Janus opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Roman's phone ringing. By the scowl on Roman's face, Virgil knew he was going to decline, but then Roman hesitated.

"I don't mind if you take the call," Janus assured him. Roman gave him a grateful smile and answered it just before the final ring.

As Roman went to take the call in the bedroom, Virgil tried to quell the anxiety rising in him. It must've been important for Roman to have answered it at this time. Virgil hoped it wasn't an emergency. Maybe it was Remus calling him just to propose another crazy scheme of his - Roman could never ignore his brother. But it also could've been a phone call bearing bad news - Something happened to Remus, or Remy, or Emile, or something else terrible that would warrant Roman to interrupt his time with his new soulmate-

"Are you alright?" Janus asked, snapping Virgil from his spiraling thoughts. Virgil grimaced but gave him a smile anyways.

"Yeah, sorry. Just got lost in thought for a moment."

Janus looked Virgil up and down, making Virgil squirm under his gaze.

"Do I frighten you?"

"What? No! Of course not!" Virgil said. He sighed and turned more towards Janus. "I'm sorry. I just get inside my own head and freak out sometimes. You've been nothing but wonderful this whole time. I'm sor-"

"You don't have to apologize if you're anxious, Virgil," Janus said. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Virgil gaped for a moment. While of course the others accepted his anxiety, it took a bit of a learning curve for them to get used to it. No one had immediately told him before that they didn't mind.

"But I shouldn't be," Virgil eventually huffed, sitting up straighter and just a bit closer to Janus. "We're supposedly made for each other - I know we're going to get along so why does my brain tell me I'm going to mess it up?"

"That's what anxiety does, babe."

Virgil barked out a laugh.

"Yeah, you're right."

"So let me ask again now. Are you alright?"

Virgil thought for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah. For real this time."

Janus opened his arms, and Virgil graciously accepted.

"I'm so happy we found you," Virgil murmured into Janus' chest as Janus wrapped his arms securely around Virgil. "I had been so worried these last few days - worried that we'd never find you again, or that it'd be years-"

"You don't need to worry anymore," Janus said with a smile. "I'm right here where you need me."

The bedroom door opened, and Virgil automatically went to sit up, but Janus gently coaxed him into leaning against his side - not tightly enough to force him, just enough to show him that it's fine, and Virgil reminded himself that neither Janus or Roman would judge him.

Roman smiled when he saw the two of them, but his eyes were heavy and Janus and Virgil frowned.

"Is everything okay?" Virgil asked. "Who called?"

"Yes, everything's fine. Don't worry, my little stormcloud. It was just audition results from the one last week. I didn't make the callback."

"Oh, Roman. I'm so sorry," Virgil said. He sat away from Janus, who moved to encourage him back, but stopped once Virgil waved Roman over. Roman immediately moved to sit between them, laying his head on Virgil's shoulder as Virgil held him and Janus took his hands, running his thumbs over Roman's knuckles.

"You'll make one of them someday. You're so talented." Virgil assured him.

"It's so hard to get started," Roman sighed. "They're more likely to cast people they know, but how are they going to know me if I never get casted?"

"The people that ignore your talents aren't worth your time anyway," Janus said. "If they're more focused on relations rather than talent, that's not a production you want to be associated with."

Roman gave him a weak smile and went to sit up straight.

"Don't let me burden you both with my dilemmas this joyous night," Roman said. "Please, continue telling me about your classes, Janus."

Janus just sighed. "I just told Virgil not to be ashamed of his anxiety. You, Roman, do not need to be ashamed of being disappointed.

"I hate to bother you-"

"You're not bothering me, nor Virgil I'm sure. There's no shame in seeking comfort when you need it," Janus leaned closer to Roman. "I want you to take care of yourself. No bottling up feelings, okay?"

Roman nodded.

"Good."

Janus sat up straight.

"Also, if you'd like, I'd be happy to help you with your monologues and scenes. I myself used to do theatre work."

Roman's face lit up again. "Oh really?"

Janus nodded.

Virgil was almost as happy as Roman to hear it. While of course he and Logan and Patton helped Roman when they could, Virgil knew they weren't exactly the best scene partners to work with.

"I would love that. Is there a chance I could also get you to sing for me, my star?"

It was Janus' turn to blush, and with that Roman seemed to have gained his confidence again as he sat up to tease Janus, who snapped at him in return, but his smile showed it held no real malice.

Virgil rested his chin on Roman's shoulder as the two quipped back and forth. Logan and Patton got back home shortly after. Janus encouraged Roman to tell Logan and Patton what happened over the phone, and two of them took no time to comfort him.

Once dinner was done, Patton was insistent on making Roman's favorite red velvet cupcakes.

"You don't have to put in that trouble for me," Roman had said.

"Your smile is worth it," Patton replied. Roman had gone a deep red and couldn't muster up any further protests.

It was cramped in the kitchen. Virgil was sitting on the counter, mostly just handing utensils to who needed it, while Patton and Janus made batter. Logan had started on frosting while Patton insisted that Roman did need to help - these were for him, after all! So Roman floated from person to person, stealing hugs and kisses where he could get it.

Patton booped some batter onto Janus' nose and kissed it off, which had been too adorable to process.

Virgil watched as Roman made the rounds into Janus' arms. Janus was the only one tall enough to be eye level with Roman. Roman's expression turned from blissed to thoughtful to hesitant. Janus, ever intuitive, knew what he was thinking and leaned in to press a quick, chaste kiss to Roman's lips. Roman's smile grew wide and his cheeks grew red as he rested his forehead on Janus'

Virgil himself could feel his heart swelling with happiness. He watched as Logan and Janus were able to discuss and debate about far more things than the rest of them could understand. Janus and Roman were able to throw clever nicknames at each other, their sharp wits bouncing off the other's. Janus was able to make Patton grow blushy and giggly almost as fast as Roman, using that smooth lilt in his voice to fluster him almost immediately.

Then Janus thought back to their brief time together on the couch - when strong arms held him tightly and grounded him, letting him know that he was safe - and Virgil knew that they were finally complete.

108 notes · View notes

yannasunflower · 4 years ago

Text

dust to dust | chapter two

chapter one | chapter two

ao3

You don't know what makes you save Kuroo Tetsurou's life. All you know is there is no world to save anymore, but damn if you're just stupid enough to try.

Genre: hurt/comfort/romance/angst Rating: Mature, subject to change (gore, violence) Kuroo x fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

hey everyone! here's chapter two, as promised. this fic is also cross-posted to AO3, where i'm under the same username. linked above as well! next chapter, action picks up, plot picks up, and we get more Kuroo, promise. enjoy, and as always, please reblog, like, and comment <3

Nobody ever told you how absolutely boring a zombie apocalypse could be.

Your ragtag group of survivors have scavenged what entertainment they can - books and gym equipment, even a few board games. People like Suga and Takeda keep busy with the children, teaching them to read and garden and how to survive if mommy and daddy never come back for them.

You open one lazy eye as a gaggle of them stumble after Suga, hanging on to his every word.

You’re not sure how the two men handle placing a long knife in a child’s chubby hand, fingers barely able to grip it,and showing them how to strike right at a nighstalker’s heart, fast and deep. Their giggles float through the air and the sound is almost dreamlike and if you keep your eyes closed, you can pretend this is a movie and when you open them, the credits will roll and you can go home.

Others tend to the elderly, of which there are only three in your group. You try to keep them comfortable and as far from danger as possible. But your body constantly prickles with the knowledge that they aren’t just vulnerable - they are a vulnerability. A hole in the brick wall you are attempting to build around this little community.

The healthy and fit young people patrol and take rotations on the watchtowers. Teenagers help with the lessons. Takeda had been firm about this. Once a kid turned seventeen, they were allowed to join the patrols, but until then, they stayed sequestered away.

It was almost comical, telling a tall, strong, angry Tobio that he had to mind the children. He towers over you, but he had bent to your will after a brief glaring contest. And then a week later, Shoyo had bounded into everyone’s hearts, including his, and the pair were inseparable.

Kiyoko, for her part, had taken one look at Yachi, shivering at Hinata’s side, and adopted her, sweeping her under a protective wing and keeping her there.

For people like you, who have no “bedside manner” as Kiyoko puts it, there are chores and day to day mini emergencies to keep you busy. Somehow, in the months since the world finally decided to fall apart, you have become mediator and negotiator. It’s an unlikely role; you can see your mother’s arched brow if she was still alive to see you now.

You barely have the patience for grocery shopping.

She would have laughed, elbowing your father, who would have made a valiant attempt at a straight face.

These are useless memories but you allow yourself to indulge for a moment. You have nothing better to do. Lunch is cooking, inventory has been completed, the guard rotation is set for the next two weeks. Ukai had waved you off this morning when you finally managed to corner him, complaining about your ceaseless energy and the “mad glint” in your eye. His words.

“That look means trouble for me,” he had growled, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Go to your cell and get some sleep for the love of anything you find holy.” Without another word, the man had leaned against a wall, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes. A clear dismissal. You tried not to huff but you definitely stomped a little bit on the way out.

You don’t know how to tell him that staying in your cell, with your eyes closed, is inviting the living nightmares. You don’t know how to tell anyone, really, that you are just as haunted as this prison, as Daichi’s eyes.

That the only holy thing left in this world is fear and if you succumb to that, you’ll never move again.

You let a sigh tumble out of you. Forcibly, you shove your thoughts in another direction.

It had been a week since you brought home your latest stray. Kuroo had spent the first three days doing little else but sleep and eat. Daichi has taken to walking him around the Pit every day, explaining the way things work, and Suga showed him his pride and joy just yesterday. Kuroo had been suitably impressed by the garden, if the generous second and third helpings Suga thought he was sneaking to him at dinnertime were anything to go by.

The man has filled out nicely. He looks less skeleton, more human after sleep and hot food. You had peeked in on him in the grey of dawn that morning after Daichi not-so-subtly hinted that Kuroo had been asking about you.

He sleeps curled up on his side, hair falling against his cheek. In another world, you would have taken a picture.

Kiyoko tells you that the men like him, that Tanaka has stopped regarding him with all the wariness of a stray cat, and that she’s pretty sure Yachi has a crush on him.

You open your eyes into a blazing afternoon, unsurprised to see the subject of your thoughts stretching in the courtyard, the weak sunlight rippling over his bare arms. His black hair is messy as ever and you are struck all over again by how tall he is.

Tobio got a new babysitter, you think with no small amount of amusement. The gangly teenager needs someone to keep him in line and frankly, you don’t have the time and Hinata is just as likely to suggest some stupid shit for them to get into as he is.

You are still stretched out like a cat on a bench, letting the sun warm you, half-hoping it will lull you into a nap.

It’s boredom, more than anything, that makes you turn your head toward Kuroo.

“If you’d like to get some exercise, we have equipment. I’m sure Noya can show you,” you call.

Kuroo jumps and swivels to look at you, eyes wide and so, so dark. You look away. Something about him is like staring at the sun; too long, and your eyes burn.

“Didn’t see you there,” he admits easily, sauntering over to your bench. You eye his approach, noting that he really must be feeling a lot better. His movements are more fluid now, lean muscles becoming apparent on his shoulders.

Daichi has blessed every woman, and a few men, in the Pit by finding Kuroo a pair of grey joggers and a muscle tank top for everyday wear.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” he says, leaning over you. His head casts you in shadow, blotting out the sun. “This is something I think you can understand.”

Up close, you can see that the shadows beneath his eyes are retreating gradually. His smile looks less like a grimace today.

You hum, swinging your legs over the bench and sitting up. Blood rushes from your head and you lean back against your palms. Kuroo lowers himself to sit next to you.

“Daichi forces me to limit my rotations on the guard towers and patrols,” you answer. “When we first found this place and cleaned it out, I was working overtime and made myself sick. Him and Kiyoko have been conspirators against me ever since.”

Your fingers thrum against your thigh as you say this. You feel more than see Kuroo’s eyes on them.

“They love you,” he points out, a little unnecessarily.

You snort.

“Love is expensive nowadays and everyone in the Pit is broke.”

“You love them back even more.”

You glare at him but he is just looking at you, tracing the planes of your face. A frown tugs at your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Kuroo rolls his shoulders experimentally, stretching his arms above his head.

“Better,” he affirms. “More like myself.”

“A nosy busybody who talks like a grandpa?”

“Exactly.”

He is grinning now and you have to fight to keep yourself from returning the expression.

The bruises on his face are yellow now. You estimate it will only take a couple more weeks of regular meals for his face to fill out and his skin to look youthful again. You don’t bother asking him how long he had been alone, what happened to his family. None of that matters now. The apocalypse is a great equalizer.

“I talked to Takeda and Kiyoko this morning,” you begin, leaning your head back and closing your eyes against the sun. “They agreed to give you another week before putting you on guard rotation.”

“I would appreciate that. I want to earn my keep, however I can.”

A ghost of a smile dances across your lips.

“You’re just bored,” you tease. It’s been a long time since you felt sleepy and loose enough to tease anyone.

“You say that now, but newbies get the shittiest schedule possible,” you warn him, unsure why you’re telling him this. “Be prepared. Once you’re back to top form, we’ll discuss sending you on patrols for medicine and expanding that garden of Suga’s.”

There’s silence but it’s comfortable, easy. You let yourself enjoy it for just a few moments before standing, opening your eyes and offering Kuroo a full smile and your hand.

As he shakes it, looking only a little confused, you wonder how much longer he would have survived on his own in the city.

“Welcome to the Pit,” you say before turning on your heel and walking away.

~~~

Nightmares are as plentiful as soil on Suga’s fingers.

A sliver of moonlight is all that keeps you from sinking into the darkness, skin clammy, chest heaving. Your fingers twist into the sheets. A prayer is whispered that you didn’t scream this time. You can’t bear the thought of Kiyoko running again, feet bare, knife in hand and tears glistening on her cheeks. Her utter, pure relief haunted you for a month.

It would be so easy, you think, to never get up again.

Kiyoko would care for you. Daichi would stop by, every day, and update you. Ukai would read to you, probably, or nap in your cell, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

These are the thoughts that force you up, out, stumbling into your worn boots, shrugging a jacket on.

Takeda finds you in the office hours later, hunched over inventory reports in his neat handwriting, hair pulled back. He puts a pot of coffee on and hands you a steaming mug, holding a hand out for the report you’re struggling to understand.

“Winter is coming,” you sigh as you hand it over. He doesn’t ask about the shadows beneath your eyes, doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s barely six-thirty in the morning and you’ve clearly been awake for a number of hours.

A smile quirks at his lips.

“I didn’t know Tanaka managed to get the TV’s up and running,” he jokes. You wave your hand in a vague gesture, taking another sip of the liquid heaven in your hand.

“We need to get winter supplies,” you answer and that sobers him up. He nods, slowly, eyes roving the paper.

“Winter isn’t for over six months,” he reminds you. An eyebrow is raised. A teacher, waiting for an explanation. In moments like these, you see the high school teacher that you’d found barricaded in his office, babbling a stream of students’ names that Daichi had quietly whispered as your group cut them down, reading them off their uniforms.

On Takeda’s worst nights, as you guarded the door to his cell, you’d heard those same names, apologies and nonsensical gibberish streaming from his mouth as he grappled with his dreams and feverish tremors.

You stand, stretching, before stepping in front of a map of the city that Suga had snagged on one of his patrols. It’s huge, taking up an entire wall. Little markers litter the paper, different colors, and you run your finger over the pale blue ones in the northeast corner.

“There’s a limited supply of winter clothes in the city. I don’t want other groups getting to it first - we don’t need that bastard holding it over our heads when we have food and they don’t,” you remind him. Your arms cross behind your back automatically. “With the snows, we’ll need snow boots. The kids need jackets and thermals. We need to completely outfit the prison’s entire water supply system to last through snowstorms. We need hot water before then or half of us are going to be too sick, and the other half will be taking care of them. We need medicine, too.”

You tick off each item on your fingers, pausing to consider if you’ve missed something. You’re probably missing ten somethings and you struggle to see what they are. You need more coffee.

Takeda is twenty-nine, but when you turn to look at him finally, he seems sixty, glasses dangling from his fingers, nose bridge pinched between his knuckles.

He mutters something suspiciously close to a curse under his breath before opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “We’re going to need at least seven months to prepare.”

The morning is a whirlwind. You send the youngest children, always the earliest risers, to fetch Daichi and Kiyoko, both much more bright-eyed than they have any right to be. Takeda drags a yawning Ukai into the office moments later and Tanaka slouches after them. Suga pokes his head in to give you a little wave and knowing smirk that everyone else finds nonthreatening before ushering the children to the cafeteria for their breakfast.

You’re positive you’re not imagining the pale pink coating Daichi’s cheeks.

After explaining the situation, everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Tanaka never sits and always faces a door. From his corner of the room, he glowers at the map.

“Well, fuck,” he neatly summarizes. You nod your appreciation for his conciseness.

“We need to get a hold of meat,” Ukai points out. A something you had missed.

You grab a marker and the portable whiteboard Takeda had grabbed a few weeks ago. In neat characters, you begin documenting everything thrown around the table.

“Raising livestock will be another way to keep the little ones busy.”

“We can’t ask people to shower in cold water during winter, that’s cruel.”

“Tanaka, is there any way to get the heating system up and running by then?”

“What about air conditioning? We have to get through the summer to get to winter, and heat is just as likely to kill us.”

“If other groups realize what we’re doing, we could be in trouble.”

A headache is brewing somewhere behind your temples and you bite back a groan. Kiyoko pushes a cool water bottle into your hand and you know she isn’t fooled for one second.

“I think we’re missing someone here,” Kiyoko points out mildly after what feels like an eternity of circular conversation. All eyes turn to her and she’s unruffled, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Kuroo could be a huge help to a lot of this,” she continues. “I’m sure he can help Tanaka and Noya with everything on their list, and we need more able-bodied men on the patrols anyway. He can help us with medicine, our food supply, all of it.”

A furtive glance in Tanaka’s direction is not encouraging. He’s glowering, eyes hooded.

“We barely know him,” Tanaka hisses. You have to privately agree.

“We barely know each other,” Ukai shoots back. “We’ve been here, what, three months?”

“He hasn’t even been on a patrol yet and you want him helping us make important decisions that affect everyone, including the kids?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it, Tanaka,” Takeda says patiently, but somehow reproachfully at the same time. “Kuroo has been in no condition to patrol. The man was emaciated.”

Takeda continues, levying everyone at the table with a stern face.

“We all trust each other now because we took the gamble and brought people in and allowed time to prove it. It was always a risk, and it will always be a risk, but we can’t let that stop us. What we’re doing here is more important than just working together to survive.”

It’s a flowery, nice sentiment, to be expected from a literature teacher, and you barely hold back a snort at Ukai’s warning look.

“None of this matters,” you cut in. “Takeda’s right. And so is Kiyoko. He could be a huge help to you specifically, Tanaka, and he’s getting better every day but we have to give him time before he’s physically ready. You saw him when we brought him in – he was skin and bones.”

Tanaka subsides into grumbling acceptance and you take it as a win.

Daichi returns with Kuroo in tow just minutes later, and if Kuroo is at all confused, he doesn’t show it. He folds himself into a chair, all long limbs and wide feet.

The problems are laid out on the table again. You watch as Kuroo absorbs it, eyes narrowed, flicking sometimes to the map on the wall.

“Frankly, I wish we were in an apartment building,” Tanaka reveals after an hour of debating the best way to acquire livestock.

You sigh, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes hard enough to see colors. You know it’s not Tanaka’s fault, that he’s saying out loud something you’d privately thought before. That the electrical systems in apartment buildings would be much easier for him to coax into submission.

But you’re tired. Kiyoko is rubbing the old wound on her shoulder again, Ukai’s fingers are tapping a loud rhythm on the table, and Daichi is watching you lose your mind with that same placid smile in place.

“I wish the apocalypse didn’t happen and we all didn’t have nightmares every damn night, but here we are,” you snap. “I wish we were all cozy in furnished apartments right now, too, and I wish we didn’t have to talk about these things.”

You wish the children didn’t have to hold knives, you wish Suga would stop forcing you to eat, you wish you could forget your mother’s laugh, you wish and wish and wish.

Tanaka’s mouth is open and Daichi is sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. Kuroo’s eyes are expressionless and he just looks like he’s waiting, though for what, you can’t even begin to guess.

You find that you don’t have the energy to regret the words, so you barrel on.

“The apartment buildings are stacked with nightstalkers. It would take weeks to clear even one out, and we would lose people. Guaranteed. We lost one person clearing this prison out and that —”

You’re cut off by a strange choking noise in your throat. The memory of Ennoshita is sweet, cloying, poisonous. Takeda looks pale and strained at the mention of it. His last student.

Your voice is pitched low when you manage to blink away traitorous tears. The sound of your chair scraping is loud and grating against your ears as you stand. They all watch you silently. Waiting.

“Ennoshita is buried here,” you say and the surprise on their faces is almost insulting. “So is Ayasaki’s little girl. We have a life here, one we built and fought for. The kids love it here, it’s as safe as it can get, and it’s isolated from the turf wars in the city. You know why we chose this place, you were part of the vote that decided it, Tanaka.”

Deep breath in. Out.

“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s necessary, and we’re all up to the task simply because we have to be.”

As far as motivational speeches go, you’re sure this is ranked pretty low. But Daichi straightens and Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming as he stares at you. Kiyoko is almost smiling and you take that into both of your hands and hold on for dear life.

“I have to protect them.”

Everyone in the room opens their mouth at pretty much the same time but Ukai beats them all to the punch with his lazy drawl.

“You’re a moron,” he sneers. “An absolute idiot if you think you’re doing any of this alone. Now run along and get some breakfast before Suga drags you there by your hair.”

~~~

It doesn’t surprise you when Kiyoko finds you later, on the roof, scribbling half-mad ideas into a plain notebook. She always knows where to find you.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow,” she says without preamble. The word home nearly sends you stumbling off the roof.

“Why? Am I dying and I don’t know it?” you ask dryly. The look she levels at you nearly makes your heart stop.

“We agreed to let Kuroo go tomorrow,” she explains, settling into the spot next to you, peering curiously at the notebook in your hand. “But you haven’t been sleeping and we can’t afford to lose you because you’re too tired to stand properly.”

You scowl. Damn the four eyes. Her and Takeda know too much for their own good.

“I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively. “I’ll get some rest tonight, promise.”

She let’s the matter go, which is a point for you, but you watch warily as she opens her mouth again.

“Tanaka is looking for you.”

A sigh.

“I should apologize.”

“That’s what he said.”

A laugh, short and barking, escapes you. Kiyoko smiles at the sound.

“We’re all such idiots.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #zombie!au #haikyuu zombie!au #this is purely self indulgent #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #my writing #yanna speaks #text #fanfiction

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malfoys-demigod · 4 years ago

Text

Tasseography Pt. 1

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Divinations class had given you a fortune, which you heavily believed in until news struck you. Would you still believe that your fortune was still out there or would you completely give it all up?

Word Count: 3.4K

Tagging: @the--queen-of-hell

A/N: I can’t believe it ! It was supposed to be a one shot but it turned out to be a 3 chapter kind of thing. I hope you enjoy this, though. This is something different so please don’t copy it! Draco isn’t here yet but please do read this chapter. Positive comments would be nice!

Divination class was a class that everyone had mixed feelings about. There were people such as Hermione Granger who did not believe in this class. She felt that it was a useless class, especially when the use of books was not really needed. The base of the subject revolved around predictions and making assumptions rather than referring academically from books and scrolls.

Sybill Trelawney was a peculiar person who taught a peculiar class. Dumbledore used to teach Divinations but had stopped, feeling that this class was not of use in the Wizarding world, as he thought everything about the class was a fraud. But when Sybill came into the picture, she somehow managed Dumbledore to give her the role of teaching Divination. So since the 1970s, she has been the professor of such an uncommon class.

If there were people like Hermione who did not like the class, there were people like Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and you, who took such interest in the class, believing every word that came out from the mouth of Sybill Trelawney.

Your belief in Divinations class all started during third year. When Harry had received a wolf-shaped symbol in his cup, there was great fear in the eyes of your professor. Seeing her fear and real and believing, there was something to believe and look out for. Besides, the symbol belonged to Harry Potter, the boy who unfortunately was someone trouble loved looking for. The events that happened at the end of third year proved that Divination class was worth believing in.

Two years later, you were one of the many people still taking Divination class as an elective for your fifth Hogwarts year. You took this class out of interest while the others such as Seamus and Dean only did it as they wanted to bluff their way into getting a good OWL score for the whole year. They thought that they could pretend and fake an accusation with their so-called fortune telling skills, trying to have Professor Trelawney believe in their fancy words. Nevertheless, you gave them a ‘good luck’ pat back when school had first started for the school year.

Now sliding to the present time which was the last day of classes before winter break started, Professor Trelawney had something in store for her students that day. With Divination class being the last period for most students that day, Trelawney had enthusiastically welcomed her impatient students who wanted to end the day and leave for the holidays.

Sybill Trelawney had started waving to her incoming students, happily pointing towards empty seats and tables for them to occupy. “Welcome, welcome all!” she greeted, “Come along quickly and have a seat!”

Today was terribly a slow day for you because you were one of the last students to enter the classroom. When you arrived, you scanned around to see that most seats were occupied by other students. Most of the students around you weren’t close with you so it would have been hard to bargain and trade places with them.

The nearest vacant seat was Lavender Brown’s table. Since she was one of the few people that you felt had the right sense of mind for this class, you didn’t complain as you made your way to her table, casually exchanging hellos and small talk. Lavender had told you that Trelawney seemed happier than usual, indicating that there was something worth looking out for during class.

When class finally commenced, your professor had magically distributed teacups to every student in the classroom, having it filled with tea right after everyone had a teacup. There were surprised looks from students as they had most likely assumed that they were going to have a relaxing class for the day.

Seamus seemed the most curious at the moment as he suddenly raised his arm up into the air, waving it to get the attention of Trelawney. She had quickly gained notice of her student raising his arm in the air that she pointed at him, nodding in signal for him to speak.

“Professor,” he spoke, “Are we having a tea party this afternoon?” There was a funny grin in his face as the rest of the class started giggling in response to his question as they started agreeing with his question.

It might have been funny for the rest of the class but you scoffed at yourself as you had an idea of what was going to happen during this class. Right before Seamus had attempted to make everyone laugh, you had read off one of the divination books despite it being useless for the sake of the class. There were so many things in the book that had teacups involved, so you were just making bets and assumptions of what was planned out for the day.

Professor Trelawney shook her head slowly, slightly laughing as she turned back to her table, which had her teacup for her grab a hold of and show to the rest of the class. She raised it with passionateness, looking at it with such energy. “That wouldn’t be the main focus of our discussion today, Mr. Finnigan, but we will be drinking the tea,” she replied, “Would anyone like to guess what we will be doing today?” she looked left and right, looking for anyone who wanted to answer her question.

There were many topics in the book you were casually reading from. Many topics had the use of teacups since it was something used frequently for predicting the future. But there were strange drawings, or rather symbols, on your teacup that had sounded similar to the last chapter you were reading from.

There was no harm in taking a guess so you carelessly raised your hand, gaining the attention of Professor Trelawney who had looked happy to see a volunteer to answer her question. “Give it a go, Ms. Y/L/N!”

“Um, would it be the practice of tasseography, professor?” you slowly placed your arm down as you heard your own voice. It sounded a little hesitant in your tone despite wanting to answer, knowing that was no harm in trying to answer.

If Trelawney’s face was already happily bright to have you answer her question, it only became brighter when you had answered her question correctly. She clenched her fists as she joyfully jumped and smiled with her teeth, “Absolutely correct! Ten points to your house!”

You nodded in approval, contented to be winning points for your house, which you did not see coming. Lavender Brown turned to look at you with a proud expression as she mouthed, “Nice one”, which made you chuckle. You showed her the page in your book that had a detailed history of tasseography, making her seem more impressed in you than usual.

“Tasseography,” she continued, “Also known as reading coffee or reading tea leaves, is a divination practice dating back thousands of years. Over this time, many symbols and interpretations have been built up.”

Seamus started taking a sip from his teacup out of curiosity, and raised his hand again, “It tastes like normal tea, professor.”

“That’s because it is normal tea, Mr. Finnigan. Since he is already in a headstart, why don’t we all start drinking from our cups, we will have our results momentarily.” Trelawney said, looking at Seamus with a ‘Did I tell you to drink from the cup already?’ look, then started sipping from her cup, which made her less tense, forgetting already about Seamus’ lack of discipline.

Lavender and you started drinking from your teacups, exchanging few words. She had told you that she was so excited to see what kind of fortune she would have by the end of the class. You agreed, telling her that all you needed was luck, since you felt this holiday was going to be splendid.

Your parents planned for the family a whole holiday vacation to Paris, a country that only your parents have been to before. They were more than happy to show you the places they have been to and explore new sites with you. This was something you were looking forward to since you barely had any time with them outside school. This was because they were one of the best aurors in their department, always grabbing jobs that needed them daily.

When everyone was finished with their tea, they started taking a look at the symbols that had appeared on the bottom of their teacups, asking their seatmates to figure out what the symbol looked like. You had no idea what yours was. It looked so strange, there were different shapes that didn’t look like anything you could think of.

Hoping you weren’t the only one with a difficult symbol to understand, you peered over to Lavender’s as she looked ecstatic with her symbol. She smiled, pointing at her symbol in a circular rotation, “It’s a boat!” she exclaimed.

This attracted Professor Trelawney who rushed to your table with an excited look. She held Lavender’s cup and with an instant, she beamed the same happiness as Lavender’s. “You are absolutely right, Ms. Brown! A boat signifies a visit from a friend! Would you happen to be meeting a friend during the holidays?”

Lavender nodded, looking surprised as if she felt like her professor was reading her mind. “Yes, professor! A friend and her family will be visiting mine over the holidays!” then she looked over to you with a smile, “What did you get, Y/N?”

You looked back down at your cup shyly, not knowing what your symbol was and its meaning. “Um,” you spoke, “I haven’t figured mine out. It seems tricky.”

“Let me take a look, Ms. Y/L/N!” Trelawney assisted you, transferring her hands from the cup of Lavender’s to yours. She took a longer time analyzing it, looking at it from different angles of the cup. “Ah, yes, tricky for a beginner like you.” she said, “This is the symbol of an angel.”

“An angel?”

“Yes, my dear! You see, the angel’s symbol can differ. It can be just the wing, the head, or both at once! From your cup, you’ve gotten both!”

“Oh,” you nodded, “Well, what does the symbol mean?”

“Good news and-”

“Oh, yes! I do have good news!” you interrupted her with joy, “My family and I are going abroad for the holidays! It’s something I’ve been looking forward to!”

“That’s definitely great news, Y/N!” Lavender added.

Professor Trelawney was about to add something to the meaning of your symbol but was stopped to see when students started standing up from their seats, packing up as the last class of the day and of the year had ended. She shook her head, knowing it was probably not important to add to the meaning of the symbol as she brought her wand back up, raising it to collect the teacups back from the soon-to-be empty tables.

“That’s all for this year, everyone!” she said, “Have a great holiday to you all!” as she waved goodbye, you stood up from your table and walked out of the classroom with Lavender.

“I do hope you enjoy your holidays, Y/N. Paris seems exciting!” Lavender said as the two of you were walking down the stairs to the connected corridors.

“I’m most likely going to enjoy the holidays, I don’t doubt the tasseography lesson we had today. But I wish the same to you too, but with your friend and her family. Write to me okay?” you asked of her, waving goodbye as you started going on your separate paths.

While she was probably going to the Great Hall, you were making your way to the common room. You friends were most likely going to be there as they were late packers when it came to holidays. You were already packed but you wanted to mail one last letter to your parents while you were in school as you were planning to tell them how excited you are to see them.

When you arrived at the common room, you were greeted by your prefect Y/P/N who was trollying her luggage towards the door of the common room. “There was an owl by your window, Y/N. I saved the letter and placed it on your desk. Have a great holiday!”

“Thank you, and you too Y/P/N.” you warmly thanked them.

You guessed that the letter that had arrived came from your parents, telling you how exicted they were to see you later that day. They probably read your mind earlier and somehow managed to send out a letter, knowing exactly what you were thinking about.

So you jogged to your dorm, throwing your sling bag onto the bed where your luggage had been resting on. You looked over to your desk, viewing the wax stamp that marked the first name of your surname which had the same color as your Hogwarts house.

Opening the letter, you were greeted with something that was not good news.

Our dearest daughter Y/N,

We hope you had a nice last day of classes. You truly deserve a break from all the academic work you have gone through. Surely a nice holiday would do, yes? We know you’ve been waiting for that Paris trip. We’ve been as well but it pains us to bring you some news.

The Ministry had just contacted us this morning, briefing us of an urgent mission. We have been assigned a team of Aurors to lead us to our case, which is located out of England. This is something we couldn’t get out of considering that the department recognizes us as one of the top Aurors they have.

We are terribly sorry from the bottom of our hearts to cancel something that we have all been looking forward to. We assure you, we will make it up to you during the summer after this current school year for you.

Should you wish to still come back home for the holiday’s, (your elf’s name) will be most happy to welcome you back home with the open arms we have been meaning to give you ourselves. But should you wish to stay at Hogwarts, you are most welcome to, just inform (your elf’s name) to take the holiday’s off, expecting no one to come home.

Once we land in our located case, we will be sure to give you the grandest Christmas gift sent straight away to wherever you wish to stay.

Please do not despise us for this, dear. You know we would never mean to hurt you like this. We hope to see you real soon. Owl us, alright?

With love,

Mum and Dad.

There was a great deal of both anger and disappointment running in your veins. It wasn’t directed at your parents. It was at the Ministry for taking away your parents once again, especially during this time of the year when you can get to see them from Hogwarts. Then it was also at the fortune you were given from Divinations class. It was supposed to come true, right? If Lavender’s fortune had come true, why not yours? This was all so weird.

You crumpled the letter, throwing it down the trash bin next to your desk. You placed all your weight on your desk, holding the ends of the desk with such anger as you shook your head, trying to process the bad news that had been delivered to you.

There was a knock from your door, causing you to stand up straight and say, “Come in.” Opening the door from the other side of the room was your roommate Y/F/N, who showed herself with a happy face, not knowing that you weren’t feeling the same as her.

“Hey, Y/N,” she spoke, entering the room, “The train’s leaving in twenty minutes, wanna look for the rest and grab seats already?” She seemed really happy but you didn’t want to ruin her happiness. But what could you do?

You walked towards her, placing a hand on your forehead as you were about to give her the news. “There’s been a change of plans, Y/F/N. Apparently mum and dad have been called away for business, cancelling the Paris plans.” you said, sighing.

Y/F/N gave a small frown and puppy eyes as she walked towards you, opening for a hug. You hugged her back tightly as she rubbed your back saying, “I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N. You were looking forward to that and you don’t deserve this.”

“It’s alright, they said they were going to make it up to me during the summer, but that’s months away from now.” you said, pulling away from her.

Her eyes widened in panic, realizing something. “Wait!” she yelped, “Where will you be staying for the holidays? I would love to bring you home with me but my family’s bringing me to my mum’s side of the family which is quite far from home, and (your 2nd friend’s name)’s parents are going through things in their household.” she said, frowning again.

“It’s either here or at home, but I was thinking of staying here. As much as I love (your elf’s name), there’s a tad bit more liveliness here. I’m sure there are people staying here for the holidays.”

“I heard this year’s gonna be less crowdier than usual for the holidays, but I’m sure you won’t be the ONLY one here. Don’t worry.”

Great. Lesser people this year, but nonetheless still people around.

“True.” you said, looking away. “You should probably go and let the others know that I’ll be staying.”

“Alright, Y/N” she said, “I’ll owl you every week, I promise.”

“Happy holidays, Y/F/N.”

You gave each other another big hug as she wished you the same. Then she left, running off to the train to meet up with the rest of your friends. That left you, with your packed luggage that you would be sadly unpacking.

As you unpacking, you were thinking about the possibilities of how you were going to spend your holidays at Hogwarts. This was the first time you spent your holidays at school. There may have been times where your parents couldn’t come home due to work but you weren’t as disappointed as you were right now that you actually still had the motivation to go home still. This year was a different case. You were in need of some love and comfort and your parents were one of the few people who could give you that.

Now that they couldn’t give you that this year, you decided to stay at Hogwarts, declining the offer to go back home, the place that reminded you of them. It would be depressing to be in the place you always saw them in. Home without them wouldn’t be considered home anymore.

When you were done packing, you stood up, walking over to your desk to write your house elf a letter.

Dearest (your elf’s name),

I hope you’ve been doing well without me. I have been informed of the change of situation concerning my parents and they have given me two offers concerning where I’ll be staying over during the holiday’s.

I want to let you know that I have decided to stay at Hogwarts. Kindly tell my parents the same, I don’t have the emotions right now to inform them right now. I really do hope you enjoy this year without either of us with you.

For that, I would like you to spend the holidays with whomever you wish to be with during this lovely time of the year. You deserve it anyways. I can’t wait to see you, mum, and dad when the school year ends.

Happy holidays!

Y/N Y/L/N

With that, you sealed the envelope, gave it to your owl who you were smoothly petting before it flew, travelling all the way to your home.

To kill time, waiting for your owl with a possible response from your elf, you decided to make yourself comfy by dressing out of your school uniform and into a cozy jumper and jogging pants. You looked at yourself in the mirror, looking at the jumper your parents had given you last Christmas when you were with them at home. You hugged yourself, pretending that you were hugged by either of your parents.

“Good luck huh.” you muttered to yourself, thinking about divinations class earlier.

#Draco Malfoy x Reader #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Harry Potter x Reader #Tom Felton #Tom Felton x Reader #George Weasley x Reader #Fred Weasley x Reader #George Weasley #Fred Weasley #Hermione Granger #Remus Lupin x Reader

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years ago

Text

Time Bomb

III.

I. | II.

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 3.2k Warning: angst, trauma, panic attack Summary: OHSY Chapter 13 rewrite with the trauma we should have had.

A/N: I was going to have this be one long fic but it read just as jumpy as the canon chapter so imma split it up into 3-4 parts. I’ve been sitting on this for weeks and not really happy with it but yolo it’s as good as it’s gonna get! Enjoy 💗

________________________________________

III.

Following an all-too-short lunch with Jackie, Becca reposed in the residents lounge for the rest of the day, alone, save for the somewhat reassuring chime of silence which was suspended throughout the room, and a riveting new journal that she held in her hands as she waited on labs to come back for her only patient, Farley.

Esme stepped inside the newly renovated room, closing the thick wooden door behind her and spinning a pen anxiously between her fingers. The atmosphere changed immediately - whatever calmness Becca found in this modern solitude vanished with her enigma of an intern’s presence. She moved to sit across from Becca without saying a word.

The two of them sat there in complete silence for a bit. The only sound was the rattling of the central heating from behind the ceiling panels and the taps of the pen Esme was still spinning between her hands.

Becca folded the article on her lap. She couldn’t focus on it anyway.

“Esme? Everything okay?”

It was impossible to miss the sullen look on Esme’s face - as if the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders and crushing her completely. She looked at Becca for a long moment, never meeting her eyes. Esme’s stare scanned the resident before her; the one resident responsible for her mentorship, the one she’s supposed to trust, the one who’s known to have faced great ethical dilemmas. All Esme could see was the same struggle staring back at her - only worse.

“Not really,” she huffs, crumpling back into the couch cushion. “It's Levi. His situation... it's really getting to me.” She took a pause to lick her dry lips. Then dove into the guilt eating away at her, “He's in so much pain every minute of every day. He's miserable, Becca. His whole life is agony, and he can't even tell anyone. I put my stethoscope to his chest a few days ago, and he teared up.”

Becca could tell Esme was trying not to cry, hiding her emotions behind the brick wall her angry tone provided. Trying to be strong. For whom had yet to be determined.

“Could you live like that?”

“Honestly…” Becca sighed as she bit her cheek, “I don't know.”

The last two weeks had Becca contemplating her own existence more than ever - a unwarranted side effect of escaping death. And in all those restless hours she hadn’t settled on a solid statement. She hadn’t found the right words to completely encompass and make sense of the endless agony tearing her apart.

She wished she could have switched places with Danny and Bobby; it was her fault they got caught in the crossfire. But Becca was selfish. So selfish for not wanting to die.

Rebecca Carolina Lao did not want to die. She could not die.

She’d worked hard her entire life - devoted her youth to her studies and cultivating the best resume she could. Her life had only just begun. She finally had the career of her dreams and…

What else is there to live for?

Those around her. Her friends. Her family miles away.

She couldn’t leave them. What would her mom be like if she had died without saying goodbye? She was strong but no one is strong enough to bury their child. Would she have her buried, or cremated and kept close to her heart? How would her roommates cope with the loss of another friend? How would they cope with taking on her share of the bills on top of inevitably losing their jobs in a few months? Who would pack up all her stuff and where would it all go?

Becca didn’t know any of these answers because she wasn’t in that position.

Through all of her pain, she fought like hell to stay.

As she sat in front of Esme, Becca’s mind briefly wandered to what it would be like to be in Levi’s position. If she couldn’t hold anyone’s hand anymore, or hold a pen or a book without pain… or kiss Ethan…

Would she be strong enough to live without everything she holds dear?

No.

She could not imagine her life ending any time soon.

“So what do I do for him, Becca? How do I help?”

The pen stopped rotating and the heating system lulled to a dull hum.

“You try... To respect his wishes,” she said with a resolute nod. “That could mean finding new experimental treatments, or it could mean accepting the fact that he doesn't want any more surgeries, even if you think they might help. He doesn't have any good choices right now. You have to make sure he knows you care about him first and foremost.”

The damaged girls looked at one another. The words settled and the air shifted.

Esme balled her fists against the loose fabric of her scrubs at her thighs. “Yeah... that makes sense.”

“Levi's been through a lot, and it makes sense that he doesn't want to get his hopes up for no reason. But it's your job to try to get him well.”

“I just wish I believed we could actually do that. Fix him.” Esme sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, straightening up resolutely.

Becca’s eyes softened. She remembered how it felt with her first terminal patients. That absolute helplessness didn’t compare - not any more.

The thing about being terminal - the silver lining - is foresight. People with incurable conditions have time to come to terms with dying. They have time to make amends. They have time to live the rest of their days on their terms. They have time to say goodbye.

Unlike Danny and Bobby.

Esme rose to her feet, wild determination in her eyes. “Levi's an amazing guy. I'm gonna help him... somehow.”

“He is,” a small smile pricked the corners of Becca’s lips. “I'm glad he has you to look after him.”

“Thanks, Becca. This really helped.” The standoffish intern smiled back and headed off towards her mission.

And once again Becca was left alone in eerie silence.

***

Stir crazy and mind bouncing too much for the walls of the small lounge to handle, Becca decided to make laps around the hospital. She spent the rest of her afternoon reacquainting herself with the wards and spending time comforting premature babies in the NICU.

Babies.

How can you be sad around babies? So full of life and promise...

Becca was walking past the E.R. on her way to check on Farley when she ran into Ethan.

His face lit up when he saw her; she looked better. She had pulled her hair back into a neater bun and there was a ghost of a smile present among her features. Looking up at him there seemed to be a glow about her, glowing in the faint way that only someone with a new lease on life could. Maybe Ethan was wrong. Maybe she did need to come back to work and face her fears head on. Maybe what was best for her was the distraction and promise of doing good. For once he hoped beyond all hope that his assessment would be proven wrong.

The sweet coloring in his eyes sparkled and the small cracks of crow's feet peeping at the corners sent a joyful warmth throughout Becca’s body. Just the sight of him gave her enough purchase to let out a large gust of air and with it most of her reserved tension.

Ethan.

He was here and she was safe.

For a fraction of a moment they both forgot they were still in the hospital.

“I've just been with your landlord,” he said slightly softer than his normal cadence, giving them both reason to stand closer in the busy lobby.

“How is he?” Becca shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, keeping herself from reaching out to him in such a public place.

Their eyes never strayed from one another. The sparkle in his azure’s matched the glow of her heart as she gazed at him.

“A pain in the ass.” The sides of Ethan’s mouth perked upwards just a hair. “Medically, however, I'm waiting to see if any bacteria shows up in his cultures. If he has meningitis, we'll need to-”

Suddenly, the ambulance bay doors burst open cutting him off. Their heads whipped towards the door where an EMT was wheeling a new patient in.

With skilled precision the EMT rattled off. “I have a patient here. Unconscious female, 50's.”

Becca and Ethan took a brief look around the E.R., but the few doctors on duty were busy with other urgent cases.

“We'll take her,” he says just as Becca’s feet carried her to the gurney in an adrenaline-fueled rush.

Unconscious woman. Shallow breaths.

Becca’s muscle memory took over well before her brain could catch up, gently slapping the nameless woman’s deathly pale cheek. Everything happened so fast. Becca’s vision was filtered by a vignette secluding her from the world. The only thing pulling attention at the center was the woman before her. This patient barely breathing and clinging to dear life. This patient with frayed graying hair, soft creases and a pale white face with a structure she’s seen before.

This woman’s not going to die.

Becca wouldn’t have it. On the third slap to her boney cheek the darkened edges faded and Becca could finally see the bigger picture.

The moment she made contact, it clicked.

Becca’s jaw dropped as she registered the features glaring back at her.

“Oh my god…” she whispered to herself.

This can’t be.

Nervously looking over her shoulder Becca called, “Ethan,”

He raised his brows, ready to jump in and help at her command.

Before he could take a step forward Becca quickly elaborated, “It's your mom…”

Time kept spinning and every second this patient came closer to losing life.

For the first time in his career Ethan was rooted to the spot.

Of course this would be how they meet after 25 years. The universe had been playing a sick and morbid joke on him lately - Dolores, Naveen, Becca, and now the woman who was dead to him long ago.

“Ma'am?” Becca tapped her again, trying to jostle her awake.

Becca’s eyes further assessed the woman’s state. Blue lips and fingertips. Memories jolted through her on the backs of the numbing adrenaline of her first ever case with Ethan -

She’s losing life.

Just like Danny and Bobby and...

Becca pushed the constricting feeling of paralyzation aside. This woman cannot die on her watch. Another life will not be taken from her. Regardless of who they are.

Ethan watched Becca move frantically around that woman. The reassuring color she finally found had drained from her face completely. Without having to ask he knew how Becca was feeling, because he felt it too.

He didn’t want to help this patient. He wanted to turn on his heels and let the powers that be take control. To let whatever power that took her away from them all those years ago to come and take her away now. He couldn’t look at her. The nerve of that woman. But Ethan Ramsey took an Oath and there was a patient who needed his expert care.

With herculean effort Ethan shook himself out of his trance and leapt into action a split second later.

“How's her breathing? Listen to her chest,” he instructed.

“Shallow. Pupils are small and unresponsive…” Becca responds, moving to check their patient’s arms for any telling signs.

And she finds one.

Track marks.

She bit back the gasp threatening to call Ethan’s attention.

Ethan…

As much as Becca wanted to protect him from this - from the deep seeded, constant pain his mother inflicts - her job came first. Becca was a doctor and her attending needed to know the diagnosis.

“It looks like an opioid overdose. We need to wake her up.”

She didn’t take her eyes off of his mother, willing her awake with every fibre of her fragile being. Calling up to that invisible force that spared her life only weeks ago for just one more favor. Just one more delay to the inevitable. She greedily needed her to survive. Needed his mother to open her eyes - there was no other option.

Death would not come today.

“Louise?” Ethan finally acknowledged the woman. His voice bellowing, pricking goosebumps on Becca’s skin. “Dammit!”

Ethan brushed past Becca and ground his knuckles into his mother’s sternum.

“Hnnng…” Louise whined; her eyes opened for a moment and Becca caught the same baby blues blankly staring at her then rolled back in her head.

No.

Doe eyes wide and full of diluted terror Becca announced, “I'll get the naloxone.”

She hurried to find a bottle of the drug in a cabinet by the nurses station, quickly preparing an injection in her unfaltering hands as she moved back towards the gurney in ten steps. Then without an ounce of hesitation, stabbed the needle into Louise’s shoulder. Ethan’s mother drew a deep, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering as she slowly pulled out of her unconscious state.

Becca’s breath caught up with her.

She’s alive.

That was all the assurance Ethan needed.

“Alright, she'll make it.” Ethan pulled his rubber gloves off and stepped away from the gurney and where Becca still rooted beside it.

“Nurse? Keep an eye on her. We're done here.”

Becca wasn't done. She was sinking in the feelings surrounding her. She felt like she was drowning in the onslaught of waves overtaking her - waning adrenaline, fear, terror, inadequacy, remembrance. Death looked her in the face again today. She evaded him once more.

Becca 3, Death 2.

What quarter were they in? When will this duel finish?

She doesn’t know. It’s an inevitable prolonging. A battle she won’t win for long.

When is the end?

She’s consciously terrified of losing.

Becca’s rooted in place as the waves began rolling towards her. Everyone moves around her in fluid sweeps. She sees nothing and everything all at once. Her line of sight coated in blanched static.

When the nurse took over and shook her out of her trance, Becca noticed Ethan promptly striding from the room without another word. This wasn’t the Ethan she knew; he would never leave a patient this soon. And this wasn’t a patient… it’s his mother… who nearly died if it wasn’t for him…

Becca swallowed her bile of trauma and chased after him through the storm;

“Ethan!”

The haunting she felt in her core didn’t matter. The shadow taking tallies over her shoulder didn’t matter. None of that mattered. She had to push past it all and be strong for him now.

He was elusive. She didn’t even hear his footsteps stomping through the hall and rattling through her, not even the vibrations ricocheting off the steel foundations. His long legs couldn’t have taken him too far. Scanning the corridor, Becca noticed the door to the on-call room a second away from shutting.

Ethan.

She finds Ethan hunched over a cot in the empty on call room. The room is dark - only one clinical light is glowing in the far corner of the cramped room. His hands balled into tight fists, the whites of his knuckles reflecting the little light away from his crumpled face.

She gingerly sat down beside him and ran a gentle hand over his back.

“Ethan?” Becca whispered a few moments later “Are you alright?”

Warm air flowed indignantly between them.

“She does not get to do this to me.” He huffed in his deep voice laden with the sentiment of a broken child. ”She does not get to make me feel bad for her.”

“I’m sorry.” Becca couldn’t say anything louder than a whisper. Her own despair still gripped into her like a vice.

“Don't be.” Ethan shrugged bitterly, though not enough for her to let up on her calming caresses. “This has nothing to do with me. That woman isn't anyone I know.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. They let silence hang and their minds clear. It was Becca who asked the most pressing question from their earlier observations:

“Do you think your dad knows she’s using?”

“...I don't know.”

He grinds his hands further into his eye sockets, willing the newest image of that woman from his minds eye. Becca continued soothing rubs up and down his back and placed her chin on his shoulder so she could look at him more closely.

“It’s okay to be sad,” she mutters.

“I'm not sad. I'm... I'm…” Ethan dropped his hands and they hung between the gap of his legs. His eyes squeezed shut and she can make out the small droplets trapped against his lashes. “Angry.”

“That's okay, too.” Her free hand moved to begin tracing nonsensical patterns over the thin, starchy fabric at his forearm. “Anything you're feeling right now is okay.”

His clouded eyes flew open.

“I'm…” he begins to speak before pressing his lips together tightly.

He huffed, shoving off her embrace and stands.

“I have to get back to work.”

“That was your mom, Ethan. She nearly died. You can take a minute. It's okay--” she began to plead.

Becca was trying to beg him to stay. To lock the door and let them hold one another for a while. So that they can fall apart and patch one another up with unconditional affection. She needed this just as much as she knew he did.

But Ethan didn’t give her the chance to ask, to make the all too enticing proposition as he bound across the room. He didn’t even bother to turn around; his eyes shut tightly and hand reached for the metal knob. He inhaled a deep cleansing breath;

“No, it isn't. There are patients that need me much more than she does.” There was a finality in his tone that frightened her.

Becca’s jaw slacked.

Ethan didn’t leave a second for her rebuttal. For her to beg. Not even a quirk of the neck in her direction to see the matching brokenness in their eyes.

The door shut loudly behind him, his footsteps echoed down the hall.

She wanted to chase after Ethan. He needed her now more than ever. Another person in his life could have been gone in a swift, unforgiving instant. If the effects of seeing their patient on the brink of death was this bad for her she could only imagine what he was going through. Though Becca couldn't move, couldn’t force herself to run through the halls and break down the barriers he’s just put up sky high. He’s pushing her away again; she can feel it.

Resigned, Becca gave up the great fight.

When the rattling of his exit dissipated and all that reached her ears was an unnerving peace, she laid down, hugging the plastic wrapped pillow tightly to her body. It smelt like clean and disinfectant and morbidly hospital-like. She wasn’t able to lose herself in this horrid smell. She ripped off the case with as much strength as she could muster, freeing the mass-produced cushion. The squish of the mildly firm pillow through the hypoallergenic fabric wasn’t helping. It still carried all she needed to forget. Rolling to face the wall, curling into a tight ball and burrowing her face in the pillow she let out a vital, subdued scream. The damn was shattered and her emotions spiraled freely for the first time in days.

Everything was all too much.

________________________________________

Masterlist

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

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#ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart

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yuzusorbet · 4 years ago

Photo

Continuing Kikuchi-sensei's book 'Strongly, beautifully,....'

If you have not read the earlier parts, please read them first. See my previous posts on tumblr or the master post on FB.

[Partial translation, some sentences are summarised or left out.]

Chapter 3: Work techniques of a personal trainer

3.1. Detecting 'something off' that the athlete does not realise

Going along for competitions as a trainer, I will get a mail from Yuzuru that says "please take XX flight on this date and this time"; and a few days before the competition, I will arrive at that place about the same time as Yuzuru travelling from Canada. When the competition is over, Yuzuru returns to Toronto for training. I return to Sendai and do my usual work at my clinic.

I feel it is not necessary that the athlete and trainer must be together all the time. Precisely because of meeting only once in a while, tiny changes are noticed.

When Yuzuru's condition is good, his jumps go straight up. But when his condition is not good, he jumps and rotates in a slant. Just a very slight difference in the angle of the ankle when entering the jump, will have a great effect (of course it is not only this).

And that angle is affected by many things, like the physical condition and the mood on that day. Not only when the condition is bad, even when the condition is too good, the angle can waver. Probably due to putting out too much strength. Of course when there is trouble in some part of the body, or when there is a difference in the feel of the skate boots or the ice, or when the body's central axis is slightly off, it will cause the angle to deviate.

Whether these slight deviations can be fixed, it depends on the skater himself. But, getting to the bottom of the deviations, to me, is an important job of the trainer.

3.2. Taping by millimetre units

Before going to the competition venue, I always go to Yuzuru's hotel room to wrap the tape for him. Taping cannot be done thoughtlessly. If it is too tight, it would affect the range of movement of the legs. If too loose, then stability would be lacking.

Firstly, when I enter the room and say "good morning”, I will observe Yuzuru.

As usual, he will say with a smile, "Good morning, sensei, and thank you as always." But sometimes, the same words are said with a lower tone of voice.

"I wonder if something happened," I am thinking to myself as I do the taping for him. And usually, at these times, there are more requests to "please wrap a bit stronger".

"A bit higher please," he also says sometimes. But this "higher" is only 1 or 2 millimetres higher. His senses are so well sharpened.

"Is this ok?" I adjust the tape by millimetre units and keep adjusting it to find the point of "That's good."

In Yuzuru's case, because he trains to that extent, it is not possible for his body to be always in perfect condition. There are times when there is pain in some part or a discomfort somewhere. Even in that state, to maintain Yuzuru's usual feeling---. In other words, to do the taping in order to get as close as possible to the feeling that he wishes to have.

At Sochi Olympics, with each wrap of the tape, "Yuzuru, how is this?" I asked. If he said "A bit higher please", I would adjust it. If he said "Uhn, it's this feeling", I would go "It's ok? Great!" It was like this, back and forth, all the time.

Gradually, from his expression and our conversation, I started to know the difference in his body's condition and senses on that day; "for his condition today, wrapping should be about this strong," I would be thinking as I did the taping for him.

Yuzuru's senses grew sharper day by day. If the taping was out of position by millimetres, he could feel it. I also tried to be more sensitive. To get as close as possible to the ideal feeling for him that could not be expressed in words..... That was my aim.

At 2018 PyeongChang Olympics, every morning I went to his hotel room and I could do the taping perfectly at first try.

At Sochi Olympics, I seemed to be inconsistent with my strength and had to re-do the taping many times. Thinking back now, Yuzuru must have been nervous too. No matter how tightly I did the taping, he said "It's still loose. Please make it tighter." Until I even wondered if such an abnormally tight way of taping was alright. I guess both of us were mentally at our limits.

At PyeongChang, however, when I did the taping, each time I asked "Is this alright?", Yuzuru replied "OK" immediately.

During the press conference, Yuzuru said, "I know the Olympics." I certainly felt that too. The difference between a person who has experienced the Olympic stage and one who has not. Even I as a trainer could remain mentally composed this time and give my support calmly.

3.3 Warming up by seconds

The warm-up was also worked on and refined. To that child, what is indispensable, is not just to succeed in technique, but also to train a body that can do fluid movements that captivate people.

The basic warm-up schedule is planned but small adjustments are made depending on how Yuzuru looks and feels on that day.

For example, on the shuttle bus from our accommodation to the rink, when he is in good condition, he will be looking out the window, listening to music, his body moving with the rhythm. But there are times when he is just silently looking downwards. "Something on his mind?" I wonder.

Based on his physical condition and mood that day, with information from his expression, words, behaviour, breathing and such, I will make small changes to the warm-up.

To put it simply, if one feels nervous, to prevent the body from becoming stiff, make the jogging time longer. If too fired up and the shoulders start to tense up, put more time into stretching in order to calm down. To get the person in the best form for competition, no matter what state he is in that day.

In Yuzuru's case, it is necessary to think of adjustments in terms of seconds. That is why, during his warm-up, I am always having a staring contest with the stopwatch. If he took more time to do the short jumps, then jogging time will be shortened by 30 seconds. If I think he has accumulated some fatigue, I will extend resting time by 30 seconds. All this is measured by the stopwatch.

But Yuzuru places great care on pre-competition routine. Every time, when approaching a competition, from morning until he enters the competing area, following a fixed procedure is very important to him. Because when you follow a routine, it becomes easy to detect what is different from your usual self.

Once the warm-up schedule is decided, if the sequence and timing is not followed accordingly, he will not be at ease. Even if it's just a small change, he really hates it. The amazing thing about him is, if the jogging or stretching time is changed just a little, he will know very quickly.

For example, if I extend the jogging time 1 minute more than usual, at about 20 seconds over the usual time, he will ask, "Sensei, isn't it longer than usual?"

It is good that he is too far to see the time display. I deliberately hold up the stopwatch and say, "No such thing. It's same as always. Look."

"That's strange...." he says, continuing to jog, with a face that's not quite convinced.

In a way, this is athlete and trainer "deceiving each other". Yuzuru probably knows that I adjusted the warm-up time, but because he trusts me, he allowed himself to be deceived.

There was once I said to him, "Being your trainer, have to count in seconds!" And that child laughed.

It is quite tiring to be constantly on high alert, paying close attention to his every move and word. But it is also something that I do happily, working as a trainer, I feel there is nothing more meaningful and satisfying than this.

-----------

Translated by me from this Japanese book by Akira Kikuchi: https://www.amazon.co.jp (please consider buying it, if you can, to give some support.)

(pics: searched from the internet)

#Yuzuru Hanyu #Akira Kikuchi

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chandelier-s-notebook · 3 years ago

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Chapter 3

Let me know if you wanna get tagged when I post new chapters in “These Streets Are Made For Walking”. @sleepysnails.

Ao3 Link

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

“Police! Everybody put your hands up!” they shouted barging into the main hall of the abandoned mall.

Heads turned and there was a brief moment of disconnect; on one side you had the fighters wondering who snitched, and on the other you had officers equipped for a potential multi-party drug deal and instead got a fighting ring operating in broad daylight.

People scattered, some ran to the exits; some hid in the rubble of the crumbling building; some were still with shock; and others were close enough to get grabbed by an officer. Out of those, a few guys fought them off, but others--such as the Dream Team--went quietly.

The Dream Team and two others were led out of the building.

“Where are you taking us?” the younger girl walking along with them asked, worry etched on her face.

“We’re just taking you to the parking lot,” the officer said. “Then you’ll be taken to the station to make a statement.”

“First time?” Dream asked, trying to make a joke.

Sapnap whacked him upside the head. “Not funny.”

“I’ve never been caught before,” the girl murmured to him, her tone significantly hardened. She quickly lightened up her voice and addressed the officer, “Will we be charged?”

“Mostly likely.”

The officer led them out to the parking lot.

Captain Craft met them at the barrier. “I’ll take them from here X33N. Jordan's just arrived to take over the scene, I’m going back to the station to get these guys processed.”

“Yes Sir.”

“We’ll send out rotating cruisers to pull in detainees as your team apprehends them.”

“Understood Sir.” The officer--X33N--left the five of them with Officer Craft.

Captain Craft’s junior partner then abruptly grabbed Dream by the shoulders and shoved him down to the car.

“Ouch!”

“You are under arrest for loitering on private property.”

“Geez, I get it! No need to be so rough. I came quietly, for goodness sake.”

“Just had to make sure you didn’t get away,” they said snidely.

“The only place I’m going, is the fucking station.” Dream let the officer pull him upright. “I’d like Captain Craft’s car if I get the choice.”

Captain Craft gave his junior partner a nod as well as a hard look. “Be gentle. Treat them with respect, otherwise things will just get worse. You respond, not instigate,” he reprimanded. Captain Craft was much gentler with Sapnap, George, the girl, and the other boy.

Dream and George rode with Captain Craft, while the other three took another car driven by the junior partner.

“Fuck,” George whispered under his breath.

“What is it?”

“Seriously?”

“Specifically,” Dream amended.

“Mother is gonna kill me.” George dropped his head forwards. “She’s been on my ass for that 92 I got in biology last week.”

“She’s still on about that?” Dream asked. “Dude it was a 92, people would kill for a 92.”

“Word choice,” Captain Craft teased from the front seat.

“Sorry,” Dream quickly said, attention never fully leaving George. “She’s too hard on you.”

“And now I’m being taken into the station.”

“George, you’re the medic. You didn’t do anything.”

“Willful ignorance,” George cried pitifully.

“Dude shut up. Anything can and will be used against you and all that.”

“Fuck. Right. Sorry.” George took a deep breath. “It would come out in questioning anyways. Fuck. Mother’s gonna read this on the news.”

“You didn’t have to come with us.”

“I need to live Dream.”

Captain Craft parked the car. He opened the door and ushered the two of them inside, the other three following close behind.

“Names?” the receptionist asked.

“Dream Taken, you?”

“F1NN,” he replied offhandedly, typing Dream’s name into the system. “No current warrants. Next.”

“George Lore.”

“Sapnap Halo”

“Hannah Rose.”

“Walli Bear.”

“Any injuries?”

All five of them stood patiently as F1NN led them through the spiel, the Dream Team bored, Hannah putting on her scared little girl front, and Walli looking genuinely panicked and muted. Dream was then taken away for solo questioning by Captain Craft first, and the rest were taken into a communal holding cell in the station.

“Dream Taken, was it?”

“Yes Sir.” Too formal.

“How are you this fine afternoon?”

“Wonderful. Going to me on my best behaviour for the few weeks I believe. I’ll try too anyway,” he bantered.

“Dream.”

“What’s on your mind Captain?” Dream leaned forward on his elbows. “Any questions for me?”

“There was this kid--your age--in the parking lot.”

Dream blinked, his joking persona dropping for a split second. “Yeah? What about it?”

“He was doing homework. Said that was his spot to get out of the house. What’s the likelihood he didn’t know what was going on?”

Dream wasn’t about to throw Techno under the bus. “Pretty high. He could have gotten there before us and not noticed everyone parking around him today. Also could be a case of thinking that this was normal and not questioning things. You know, Las Nevadas guys running around, best to keep your head low.”

“Advice you clearly stand by.”

Dream shot the officer a wide smile. “That’s my aim.”

Captain Craft scribbled something down in his notebook. “How often does that ring meet?”

“Every so often. It moves around.”

“How many locations?”

“Three? Four? Not sure.”

“Fight often?”

“When I’m told the location.”

“Where’s the next one?”

Dream wiggled his eyebrows. “Not telling.”

“Less community service hours coming your way if you ‘fess up.”

“Need that in print before I hand everyone over. Besides, I only attend when it’s at the mall.” Dream smiled again, clearly having fun with the banter. “Am I done here? I think I’m done.”

“Nothing more to say?”

“I didn’t fight this afternoon. I only watched.”

Captain Crafted jotted it down, he flipped the page and wrote down another note before ripping it off and closing the book. “Take this to F1NN and call your guardian for pick up. Loitering on public property, and willful ignorance to assault and battery.”

Dream stood up and pushed his chair in. “Not gonna walk me there?”

“We’ve been here enough times,” Captain Craft sighed. “Best behaviour?”

“Of course.”

Captain Craft cut open Dream’s zip ties and sent him on his way.

Dream gave the note to F1NN and was given the phone in return; like clockwork these visits were. That was a bad thing wasn’t it?

After two rings Bad picked up his phone. “Hello?”

“Hi Bad, it’s Dream.”

“Tubbo just left,” he said as if he knew exactly what Dream would have wanted from him. “Techno just came by to pick him up.”

“That’s ‘cause I told him to,” Dream explained. “The three of us got picked up by the police, think you could bring us home?”

Bad could be heard moving around the apartment, and he heard the clinking of keys. “I’m on my way. Anything I need to know?”

“George and Sapnap will probably be calling you, once they’re finished with their interviews.”

Half an hour later Sapnap was sitting shotgun in his dad’s car, while Dream and George chilled in the backseat of the car. The first stop of the night was Punz’s house, so they could pick Tubbo up, before dropping Dream off at home.

Bad parked on the driveway, and Dream got out of the car. He walked up to the front and used his spare key to get in.

It’s quiet, and too early for the fourteen year olds to be asleep. Tubbo and Purpled are good friends, they had been since childhood; getting dropped off at Bad-Halo’s-Unofficial-Daycare-for-the-Siblings-of-Petty-Criminals-and-Their-(Count-‘Em)-One-Normal-Friend did that to friendships. They should have been playing around here somewhere.

Dream stalked around the house looking for clues as to where they might have gone. It was in the kitchen that he found a note.

“Purpled went out. Didn’t want to be here alone. Went to Ranboo’s.”

Dream grabbed the note and groaned in frustration, all this way for nothing? He checked his phone. Nope, Tubbo hadn’t even sent a text message. He left the house--making sure to lock the door behind him--in a huff.

Opening the car door, he slid in, exhaling loudly. “Punz wasn’t home. Purpled’s gone. Note saying Tubbo went to Ranboo’s. I’ll just bus home from your place. Think Techno left my bag with you.”

“He did. I noticed it on my way out.” Bad pulled out of Punz’s driveway. “Why don’t you stay the night?”

“I would, but you know Ranboo’s parents. If they find Tubbo there, they’ll kick him out, and I’d rather be in the apartment if he has to come back.”

Bad nodded. “I’ll drive you and George back to your places then.”

“Actually, Bad?” George interjected quietly. “Can I crash at your place? Mom’s been a lot this week already and they got our picture. Think we’re gonna be in the news again.”

Bad sighed. “You’re ruining your future. How will you get into university with those articles?”

“Good grades and scholarships,” Sapnap said.

Bad laughed. “Of course you can stay the night.”

#Dreamwastaken #Sapnap #Georgenotfound #Badboyhalo #Philza #These Streets Are Made For Walking

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thisbluespirit · 3 years ago

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Fic writer interview

tagged by: @allegoriesinmediasres (thanks! <3)

name: @thisbluespirit

fandoms: Doctor Who, Sapphire & Steel, Blake’s 7, Once Upon a Time, Shadow of the Tower, Press Gang, Spooks | MI5, Star Wars, Dracula, Adam Adamant Lives! and a whole lot of other fandoms I rotate around, including a scary amount of obscure Brit TV from previous decades, and random things written for Yuletide.

two-shot: The only one I can find on AO3 is The Rime on the Spray, an old fic that’s a mini-adventure with One, Ben & Polly, because I couldn’t find any fic for them as a team at the time.

most popular multi-chapter fic: My multi-chapter works are not my most popular, let me tell you. I sorted by kudos and, eventually, pages down, found (somewhat worryingly, given its current lack of comments), Austerity Gamble an origfic M/F 1940s set piece. For an actual fandom the most popular is Assigned, but that is a collection of one-shots for a set of Sapphire & Steel prompts I made. So the actual most popular fannish multi-chapter work is Murder at Mill Cottage, which, er, was a sort of meta Doctor Who/Miss Marple crossover, set in This Time Round, which I’m not even going to try and explain here. Harry Sullivan attempts to solve a mystery, anyway.

actual worst part of writing: Getting the words down in the first place instead of leaving them running round your head.

how you choose your titles: Either the title comes with the fic and everything is great, or I snaffle from a song I listen to while writing it, or I wind up googling the fic’s theme desperately for appropriate quotes. If it’s a meme ficlet, I just go, dammit, it’s a meme ficlet and give it an appropriate one word title. And then can’t remember which ficlet has been kudosed every time I get an email. The funny thing is, I have a bunch of things written for the AU Meme I’ve done a few times that are all titled “AU Meme: Character/Pairing X” and they get read as much as or more than plenty of other things I write, so we could probably all just call everything Untitled #1, Untitled #2 and it’d all be okay anyway. XD

do you outline: It depends. For a ficlet, not usually. For a longer piece, I’ll certainly write some notes and plot points down. I tend to write longhand first, on paper, which means I have a pretty full(ish) draft by the time I’m typing up, and I’ve had a rough draft to try things out in already.

ideas you probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice: Oh, I don’t know. I do mean to finish typing up that Bail/Breha thing that was originally supposed to be for an exchange & the draft in my notebook is complete, so that can’t count.

I’m still kind of amused by the whole Elizabeth of York Vampire Slayer random bit of WIP I have lying around somewhere, and I do not think I’ll ever make that an actual thing now. (I have a small bit typed up, but what’s left in my notebook isn’t much more and also includes notes about breeding giant frogs in France and I have no idea what I was on at the time. I was very ill, in my defence. Probably.)

callouts @ me: Umm? How many James Maxwells have I written this year? Actually, probably way less this year. But, ooh, pick any year from about 2013-2019, lol... (Sometimes he’s in disguise.)

best writing traits: Characterisation and dialogue? I’m actually not too bad with plot when I am well enough, but I rarely am that well, so does that count? Sometimes I can do humour! People laugh, so it must be ok.

spicy tangential opinion: Probably me still genuinely liking canons, especially modern ones, that everyone else gave up on. Shocking. In fandom because I like it? ;-p Thinking Sapphire & Steel are better with the addition of Silver to make a shiny OTP seems aptly spicy. I feel Silver would be fine with that.

tagging: @bunn1cula @pers-books @scarletmanuka @foreignobjecticus @captain-aralias @jurijurijurious & any other fic-writers who are automatically tagged if they want to be!

#fannish nonsense #memes #fic writer interview #allegoriesinmediasres #sapphire and steel #doctor who #replies

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ghstandpucks · 4 years ago

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Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch. 4

Hey everyone! I hope you are all doing well and having a nice Friday! Thank you so much for all your kind, supportive words! I’m so glad you are liking this series! Disclaimer for this chapter: I’m sorry if you like Ashley Wagner as a figure skater. To be honest she bothers me which is why I picked her for a little conflict that may or may not happen during the season lol

Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think! Also, let me know if you would like to be tagged in the upcoming chapters! Thanks!

Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

“Nope. Try again,” you said as Andre tripped over his feet and missed the net. It was Monday morning at practice and you had just shown your group the three-turn move that Nate suggested you teach them. Andre groaned and looked over at you.

“What is the point of this?” he asked.

“The point is to be more fluid. You guys do this already, you just need to follow through with it and not be choppy,” you responded.

“Maybe we are choppy because we have to keep the puck with us,” Andre grumbled and tried again, still not entirely succeeding. To be fair, not many had been successful that morning.

“You guys just need to keep your momentum,” you tried to explain. They looked at you like you were crazy. You quickly skated over to the side and grabbed a stick, becoming exasperated that they seemed not to believe you that it would work. Taking one of the pucks, you quickly did the move and shot the puck straight into the net. You turned back to your group and laughed at their dumbstruck faces. Honestly, you were even shocked that you made, but you couldn’t show them that. “So that’s how you do it. Any questions?” They all shook their heads no. “Okay then, line up,” you said, deciding to keep the stick with you. Though it still seemed foreign to you, you felt more comfortable with it. As the group you had started to get it, you smiled and looked down the ice to find Nate already looking at you. He was at center ice in another group, and when you grabbed the hockey stick a few of the players and coaches stopped to see what you were doing. He didn’t bother to look away when you met his gaze, but instead nodded at you with an impressed face. You shrugged and laughed, turning your attention back to your group.

The groups rotated about 30 minutes later, and Nate skated right up to your side. “Look who’s becoming a hockey player,” he teased you quietly. You giggled and elbowed him.

“I told you it wasn’t that hard,” you said, adding “and you owe me two laps.” Nate looked at you unimpressed.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“Can’t have people thinking I’m a pushover, right?” you laughed. Nate rolled his eyes, but smiled at you as he took off.

~ ~ ~

The following day you stayed after practice, seeing as the team had Wednesday off. You were in the middle of your billman spin when you caught the outline of a blurred figure every rotation you made. You finished the spin, letting go of your right leg and checking out. Glancing toward the side, you found Nate standing there. He smiled as you skated over to him, shifting his weight from one foot to another slightly. That’s when you realized he had his skates on. “Mind if I join you?” Nate asked. You shook your head and smiled up at him.

“You aren’t mad at me for making you skate laps?” you joked. He chuckled as he stepped out onto the ice.

“Completely. Those two laps were the worst thing I had to do yesterday,” he answered with a wink. You laughed and skated around the perimeter of the rink with him. The two of you spent about two more hours on the ice, talking and doing different things, but always ending up back next to each other. You sat next to Nate on a bench off the ice to take your skates off while continuing your conversation. “So how did you get into skating? In Canada hockey is huge. I can’t imagine it’s the same in Southern California,” Nate asked after he had told you how he started playing hockey, and you smiled.

“So I was actually a dancer when I was younger. My parents put me in ballet when I was about 2 in a half because I was that hyper child that needed something to do,” Nate chuckled at that. “Anyways, I had an older cousin who was taking skating lessons and had her like 10th birthday party at the rink. I was 4 and one of my other older cousins offered to skate with me. And I fell in love the second I stepped onto the ice. I asked my parents after the party if I could start skating and they signed me up for classes. And you should know as of last week with Z that I am a competitive, stubborn little shit of a person so I jumped at the idea of having a coach and competing. And I never looked back. The rink is my happy place, it’s where I feel most myself, and everything that has come along with it is just a perk,” You smiled, drying off your blades and putting your soakers on them.

“Oh yes, an Olympic gold medal is just a perk,” Nate dead panned, but you could see he had a smirk on his face.

“I mean I worked hard for it. But it never felt like work because I love to skate,” you replied simply. Nate smiled softly at you, and you thought you would never get used to the way it made your stomach flutter.

“That is beautiful Coach,” he teased you, and you knocked your shoulder into his arm. He laughed as you barely even moved him, more just bounced off of him. “I’m being serious Y/N. Obviously you are an amazing skater, and we are lucky to have you.” Nate said sincerely. You looked away as you started to blush.

“Well you aren’t so bad yourself mister,” you tried to joke back to cover up how much his words were actually affecting you. Nate chuckled and shook his head.

“I just try my best. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough, but I try,” he admitted.

“But that’s all you can do, try. And you have a whole team behind you to support you,” you said, feeling that he was just like you; extremely tough on himself. “Plus, from what I’ve seen you’re a pretty good skater,” you smiled as he met your eyes after putting his skates away.

“Only pretty good?” he teased, and you laughed.

“Well there’s always room for improvement,” you said, teasing him back. Nate let out a chuckle and followed you out of the rink, walking with you over to your jeep.

“So, we have tomorrow off…” Nate started, rubbing the back of his neck. You smiled and nodded, encouraging him to continue. Nate wanted to just ask you out, but he wasn’t positive where you stood. You were nice to him, but you were nice to everyone. He decided to go with what he had already offered before to be safe. “Do you still need to get a bookshelf?” As he asked, you couldn’t help as your smile became brighter at the thought of hanging out with him away from the rink again.

“I do actually. I was planning on doing that tomorrow,” you hoped you weren’t blushing too much, but Nate could see it and it only gave him more confidence.

“I can come over around noon. We could get some lunch then get your book case,” he suggested, trying to gauge your reaction. You smiled shyly, knowing your blush had to be evident at this point. Nate thought it looked adorable. Here you were, this Olympic gold medalist becoming shy when he was asking you to hang out.

“That would be great, as long as you don’t mind helping me,” you said. Nate beamed at you.

“Not at all.” You smiled back at him and said your goodbyes with the promise of seeing each other tomorrow. You drove home, nervous and excited for being able to hang out with him more one on one.

The next morning you woke up and busied yourself trying to clean up a bit. Not that you were messy, but you needed to move some boxes out of the way to make space for your book shelf. Getting dressed in some simple jeans and a black tank with a long, velvet deep yellow cardigan over it, you were just putting on your converse when Nate showed up at your door. You insisted on driving, sure that you would buy more than just a bookshelf and didn’t want to cram it all into his car. Nate directed you to a cute sandwich shop downtown for lunch, and the two of you talked the whole time about everything and anything. It felt so natural to be around him; the two of got along very well. Both of you being extremely competitive athletes, you also understood each other on a different level. Getting through lunch relatively unnoticed, Nate was amused when you were the one approached for a picture and not him. He couldn’t help but smile at the way you talked to the young girl and encouraged her to keep working on a jump she said she was having a problem with. After lunch, you and Nate went to Target and picked out a simple bookshelf. You also grabbed a few more things you could not leave the store without and Nate pushed the cart along, teasing you when you couldn’t pass up buying a few new books as well. Traveling from competition to competition always provided reading time, so you figured road trips with the team would provide the same.

Once back at your apartment Nate took over constructing the book shelf while you unloaded your boxes for it. The day carried on with playful banter and you could feel your crush growing even stronger. Nate was feeling the same. It was nice for him to be around someone who didn’t seem to care that he was a professional hockey player. He felt that he could really be himself around you. Between the laughing, lunch, shopping, and setting up, it was 7pm before you even knew it. “Do you want some pizza?” you asked him as you placed a candle on one of the shelves.

“Don’t tell my coaches,” he winked and you laughed.

“Never,” you said, asking him what a good pizza place to order from would be. “I’ll order a veggie one. That will make it a healthy meal.” Nate laughed and offered to pay, but you insisted being that he spent his whole day helping you, plus bought lunch. When the pizza arrived, you made your plates and sat at the table. “Do you ever miss being home with your family?” you asked after he told you all about them.

“I do yeah. I love them and being able to spend time with them. But I’ve made Denver my home also and this team is like family. I’m happy being here with them,” Nate answered sincerely.

“I think it’s really great you guys all have each other. I’ve never been much of a team player so I’ve never experienced that kind of bond,” you admitted.

“You have to have friends through skating though, right?” he asked.

“Yes and no,” you shrugged. Nate gave you a questioning look. “Girls are mean.” Nate broke out laughing. You laughed too and continued. “Once you get to a certain level, like you support one another but if someone your competing against falls you don’t feel bad. And I know that sounds horrible, but when there are only usually 3 spots on the Olympic team every four years, and the competitive span of a female figure skater is only like six years at senior level depending on how fast you learn, it’s a super competitive atmosphere. You tend to become better friends with people you won’t compete against. So like for me, my best friend is Jeremy Abbott. He’s kind of like an older brother to me. And I’m close to a few ice dancers. But any female single skater friend either tends to have gone through the ranks before you, or you start mentoring someone younger as they hop onto the circuit and you phase out. I think I’m better friends with girls I have competed against now that none of us are competing anymore. That’s just kind of how it goes,” you tried your best not to make it sound like you were a horrible person. Nate nodded thoughtfully, then grinned at you.

“Does this mean you have an arch enemy that we all have to look out for?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his question.

“Unfortunately, kind of. Playing the Stars should be interesting this year.”

“Playing the Stars is interesting every year,” Nate muttered. “Who is it?” he asked curiously.

“Don’t say anything ok. I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t be talking bad about another skater in this program,” you pleaded. “Plus the press already thinks we don’t like each other. I don’t need to be the one to add fire to that flame.”

“Yeah I’d rather not talk to the press so your secret is safe with me Y/N,” Nate said, leaning in closer as to convey confidence.

“Her name is Ashley Wagner. She was annoyed that in my first competition I bet her and knocked her off the podium completely. And every competition since I had beat her,” you explained and Nate nodded along. “Also, if you meet her, don’t let her fool you. She seems nice, but she’s not that great. She purposefully tripped me during warm ups once. That’s when all the rumors started flying around.” Nate looked at you surprised.

“You didn’t do anything back to her?”

“No,” you laughed lightly. “That’s not what you do in my sport. I kept smiling and brushed it off best I could.”

“Alright. So we’ll have to protect you around her. You’re too nice,” Nate grinned at you. You smiled back and cleared both of your plates as you had finished eating.

“Shut up. She’s a coach too. It should be fine…I hope.” Nate shrugged at your reply, taking a seat on the coach and making himself comfortable.

“I don’t know. Hockey might just bring out the worst in both of you.”

“Gee, thanks Nate. Glad to know you’d have my back if it came to blows,” you plopped down next to him. Not too close, but close enough the you could knock your knee into his. Curling your feet up on the couch, you both smiled lazily at each other.

“Don’t worry Coach, I’ll be your back up. Tyson will probably be your hype-man,” Nate teased, reaching to shove your shoulder slightly. When his hand came down though, it rested slightly touching yours, and neither of you moved.

“Sounds about right,” you tried to laugh your nerves off. Nate decided to take a leap, and placed his hand over yours. He smiled when he felt you intertwine your fingers with his. The both of you sat in comfortable silence for a minute. Nate was about to speak when your phone started to ring, ruining the moment.

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking at your phone and seeing that it was Jeremy calling. You denied the call, but your screen just lit up again. “Speak of the devil. I can call him back later. I’m sure it’s not important.”

“It’s fine. It’s getting late, and we have practice tomorrow so I should probably go,” Nate said, letting go of your hand and standing up. You were going to kill Jeremy.

“Well thank you for coming over and helping me,” you said as you walked Nate over to the door.

“Anytime,” Nate responded, stopping just outside and turning back to you. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Put together a book shelf?” you raised your eyebrow, hoping you weren’t over analyzing the moment the two of you just had. Nate chuckled and reached out for your hand again.

“No. Lunch, dinner, this,” he squeezed your hand for emphasis. You blushed and nodded. “A book shelf if you really need another one,” Nate added, making you giggle.

�� “That would be nice,” you responded. Nate grinned at you, and with one more squeeze of your hand he dropped it.

“See you tomorrow Y/N,” he said, backing away from you.

“Get home safely Nate,” you said, smiling at him till he turned around and walked down the hallway. You shut the door and locked up, walking back to the couch and the now 6 missed calls from your best friend. You called him back with a sigh. You didn’t give Jeremy a second to talk when he answered. “You better be dying to have called me this many times.”

“Calm down, I just wanted to talk to you. Why weren’t you answering?” he laughed.

“Nate was over. I think we were having a moment and you ruined it,” you complained.

“Shit…sorry!” Jeremy responded. There was a pause, then he spoke again with excitement. “Now tell me all about it.” You laughed and launched into the story about your day, all the meanwhile looking forward for the season to begin, and to be able to see where things were headed with Nate.

tags: @bqstqnbruin @avsfans95 @andreiaafaria

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon x reader #nate mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon x reader #Cutting Edge

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