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1waveshortofashipwreck · 1 year ago

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Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 6: The Plan

Easy Company x Fem!OCs

Chap. Synopsis: What will happen when the group forms a plan to get some answers?

Words: 3,677

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A playlist to go with the chapter!

Author's Note: WHAT IS UP MY DUDES IT'S TIME FOR CHAPTER SIX!!!! Be on the lookout for Chapter 7 dropping tomorrow night!! :D

“We’ll need a map, and equipment to pick locks and stuff,” Chrys answered Joe, hesitancy evident in her words. “I do have a lock-picking kit, but we might need other stuff to bypass the doors that have alarms on them.” The boys nodded along before Luz spoke up.

“Do you think the rest of the guys will go along with this?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t see any other option,” Malarkey barely finished his sentence before the group heard the apartment door unlocking. When the door opened, Zay stumbled through, pushed to the side by the disheveled frames of Roe and Guarnere. The men looked like they did after days in Bastogne - dirt caked into their skin, grass and leaves in their hair, clothes that were clean when they left now looking as if they're on their sixth week of wear. Speirs and Liebgott walked in after them. The soldiers had never seen the look of irritation on Speirs’ face - sure, they'd seen him aggravated or annoyed, but this expression seemed to be in a league of its own.

“What the fuck happened?” Luz asked the group, concern and bewilderment evident in his eyes.

“You don't want to know,” Liebgott muttered quietly as he sat down in the vacant armchair. Speirs immediately walked from the front door to the sliding glass that led to the apartment balcony, forcefully sliding the door closed behind him. Everyone stared out at the balcony frozen, until Zay spoke up.

“He’s just frustrated because these two almost got themselves hurt,” she explained, shooting a playful glare at the two unkempt paratroopers beside her.

“We got some good information though!” Guarnere replied proudly, placing a firm but friendly hand on Gene’s shoulder. The medic let out a quiet laugh and shook his head before Bull spoke up.

“So what’d y’all find out?” Zay reached into her backpack and pulled out what appeared to be a jacket with a camouflage pattern. It was sturdy - similar to the men’s army-issued jackets.

“We’re not quite sure if it’s useful, but it’s certainly interesting,” Zay explained as she showed the sleeves to the group. The men’s eyes widened when they saw the 101st airborne screaming eagles patch over the two chevrons that displayed the rank of corporal.

“Zay, you’re not gonna believe what we found out,” Chrys mused, eyes wide at the jacket. Chrys and her group regaled the newcomers with the rumors they read about, as well as the missing corporal.

“You don’t think that’s her jacket, do you?” Luz asked in disbelief.

“Well whose else would it be!?” Gonorrhea replied to the radioman… a bit more forcefully than he intended. There was a heavy pause before Dick broke the silence, looking at Zay with a pensive but nervous expression.

“We’re thinking about sneaking into Fort Liberty, see what we can find out,” Zay’s eyes widened behind her glasses.

“You can’t be serious…” the words fell from Zay’s lips with utter disbelief. “There’s no way… even if we wanted to… where would we even start?” The girl’s eyes darted around the group - every expression seemed to have glimpses of shock, fright, overwhelm, but also… focus and determination. If this was really the next step in their journey home, then they were going to do it right.

“We’d have to find some way to scope out the base beforehand, so we can understand how their security works,” Speirs’ voice delivered a jumpscare to the rest of the group, no one hearing him sneak back in from the balcony.

“And figure out how the base is laid out,” Nixon added.

“But the only way we can get on base is if we have a military ID,” Zay mentioned before Chrys spoke up.

“... not unless you’re a delivery driver.”

“Wait, so they’ll just let you on base if you’re a delivery driver?” Liebgott wondered aloud.

“Not exactly, you need to register your car and have a special ID card, but we can probably just look up how to do that on their website,” Zay replied before noticing the still-disheveled states of Roe and Guarnere. “Let me get y’all some fresh clothes and I’ll get my laptop and we can do some brainstorming.” Once Gene and Bill were taken care of, the twelve made a makeshift circle around the coffee table. Chrys kept her seat between Winters and Nixon, while Zay sat across from her sister on the floor, Eugene on her left and Guarnere on her right.

“Alright, so we need to figure out how to get on base, where we need to go, and what will stop us from getting there, right?” Malarkey listed out from his spot on the floor.

“We can get on base by registering as a delivery driver, and then once we’re on base we can figure out where everything is.” Chrys typed away on her laptop, making a checklist of what needed to be done.

“Right… what’s everything exactly?” Luz chimed in from his spot beside Toye.

“We could probably start with Colonel Gomez’s office, then from there we can see where he’s doing the experiments,” Speirs explained from his spot on the other side of Eugene. The group carried on like this until dark, forming their own version of the D-Day invasion, just with less planes and more… road trip playlists.

“Alright, let me see if I have everything here,” Chrys said. She made a few finishing keystrokes on her laptop before scrolling back up to the top of her list. Beside her, Lewis was in awe of the girl. Everything she did seemed to have an effortless air around it. It felt as though, at the snap of her fingers, Chrys could command the beer bottle beside her to bring itself to her lips of its own accord. Lewis would never admit to it, but her presence caused a level of butterflies to swell up in his stomach that he hadn't felt since he was in prep school. His eyes became fixated on her snakebite lip piercings - two black studs placed right below her lower lip. Lewis had never seen a piercing like this before, his mind started to wonder what it would be like to kiss her with those-

“Lew!” The man was shaken from his thoughts when Dick called his name. Nixon was broken from his trance and noticed the rest of the group staring at him expectedly, most notably Chrys. The dark-haired man took a beat before clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry, what’d you say?”

“Do you think you’d be able to help us decipher anything we find in Gomez’s office?” Zay asked from her spot on the floor.

“Well I’m not the intelligence officer because of my good looks!” Snickers could be heard around the room at Nixon’s comment before the conversation moved forward.

“So Zay and I will use the van from my garage and register it as a delivery car, then Nix, Speirs, and I will ‘deliver’ something to Colonel Gomez to find where his office is and scope out the place. Then from there, we can plan out how we want to do the second run,” Chrys explained to the group.

“Sounds good to me,” Winters piped up from his seat on the couch. His eyes kept finding their way to Zay, who could be seen whispering and laughing with Doc Roe beside her. Even when he felt a sting of envy seeing Eugene next to her, there was still a comforting warmth in his chest when he saw Zay scrunch her nose in laughter. Chrys noticed how Dick was looking at Zay and couldn’t help but smile. Chrys’ gaze abruptly moved to Guarnere when everyone heard his stomach growl, or rather, play the symphony of its people.

“Zay, why don’t you and I head to the kitchen and see if we have anything for dinner?” the dark-haired girl announced with a laugh before setting her laptop on the coffee table, stretching her arms over her head. Zay was quick to pop up and follow her twin into the kitchen, leaving Easy Company to their own devices, at least for a moment.

“I’m pretty sure we don’t have something that’ll feed everyone, do you wanna just order pizza tonight?” Zay asked nonchalantly as she looked in their fridge. Chrys simply leaned her back against the counter and let a snicker past her lips.

“You have no idea, do you?”

“... I mean I’m looking at our fridge right now and all we have is your veggie smoothies and my orange soda, ooh! And Peronis! When did we get these?” The nurse was in her own little world for a moment, pulling the cheap beer out of the fridge to share with everyone.

“I mean about Dick, don’t you see how he looks at you?” Zay turned around and met Chrys with furrowed brows, clearly confused.

“What do you mean?”

“He gives you the same heart eyes he does to Nixon in the first episode, when Nix is lighting his cigarette outside that tent.” Zay quickly shook her head before promptly setting the drinks on the counter and closing the fridge. She immediately pulled out her phone, desperate to focus on something else.

“You think they’d prefer Domino’s or Little Caesar’s?”

“Zay, I’m serious, I really think he likes you.” Chrys’ tone was quiet and serious, but gentle. Chrys was unsurprised at her twin’s avoidance of the subject - she knew Zay had a rough time in terms of relationships.

“Chrys he could have anyone he wants,” the girl said in a strikingly monotone voice - a stark contrast to her bubbly personality. She took a deep breath before continuing, “Besides, do you see how Nix looks at you?” Zay looked up from her phone, a smirk on her face. Before Chrys could finish her eye-roll, the two were shocked out of their skins as music came blaring unexpectedly from the living room. As Tainted Love filled every atom of air in the apartment, the twins scrambled into the living room to find Luz crouching in front of the entertainment stand, fumbling with the Bluetooth speaker as if it were a hot potato. Zay quickly knelt next to George and took his hands, turning the speaker so that she could reach the power button and turn the speaker off. The two sat like that for a second before Zay quickly pulled away, face bright red. She futilely prayed that Luz didn’t notice the rosy hue on her cheeks.

“I told you not to mess with that, dumbass!” Liebgott scolded Luz from his place on the floor.

“Great job, radioman,” Bull chimed in, chuckling as Luz bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. The poor man just wanted to see if he could figure out how to turn on the device to see what it was. While his mission was technically successful, George certainly did not intend to assault the eardrums of everyone in the tiny space.

“If y’all wanted a dance party, you could’ve just asked!” Zay said with a giggle. Most of the men shared in her laughter, while others felt their ears perk up at the idea of a dance party. “Why don’t we order some pizza and then I can show y’all how the speaker works?” Within the hour, the twins had educated the men from the 1940s on what toppings were available on their pizzas, as well as mediating the discussions for what was going on said pizzas. Now, all they could do was relax and wait for the delivery driver. Zay had started passing out the Peronis from the fridge (and a soda for Dick) when she heard her name.

“Zay, you said something about a dance party?” Nixon piped up from his seat, a mischievous smirk on his face. Her expression grew to match his as she pulled out her phone.

“Let me find a good playlist to show y’all the best music-”

“Zay I swear if it’s your Queen playlist…” Chrys interrupted, irritation in her eyes but a smile on her lips.

“Like, songs for the Queen of England?” Guarnere questioned the two - just when he thought 2023 could not get any more bizarre, now he knows the word “playlist” and is about to listen to music made for the queen of England. Zay simply laughed before returning to her phone.

“ONE song, then I’ll put on a playlist!” The blue-haired girl compromised with her sister before picking up the Bluetooth speaker. The boys were amazed when she seemed to only push a couple of buttons, and suddenly music was playing again from the speaker, and at a much more reasonable volume compared to earlier.

Toniiiiight, I’m gonna have mysellllf a real good time

I feel aliiiiiiiivvvvveeeee!

Zay was singing along to one of her favorite songs, she could not help but stand up and move along to the slow intro, waving her arms in big, dramatic motions to the lyrics. Everyone was laughing along with Zay’s hyperbolic display as she and her twin sang along with Freddie Mercury.

And the wooooorld, I’ll tuuuurn it inside ooouuut, yeah!

I’m floating arooooound in ecstacyyyy so

Don't- Stop me nooowww…

“Don’t! Stop me! Cuz I’m having a good time! Having a good time!” As the music crescendoed, so did Zay and her dancing. Even Chrys, moved by one of her favorite singers, got up and began dancing with Zay. The two moved like excited baby goats, hopping around the living room in time to Roger Taylor’s drumming. Some soldiers were getting into the vibes of the music with the twins, either dancing in their seats or trying to sing along, others were watching the girls with less than chivalrous eyes (Liebgott and Toye were the worst offenders), while Dick and Lewis simply watched in awe. Dick’s eyes were fixed on Zay, the way her hips were moving trapping the redhead in a trance that he would have been happy to stay in forever.

Lewis, on the other hand, could not decide where to focus his gaze on Chrys. From the smirk on her face, to her waist swirling side to side, to her legs moving in time with the music, to her arms wrapping themselves around Guarnere - wait… Nixon was brought back to reality when he saw the sergeant dancing with the black-haired girl, also noticing that the song had changed to something more… seductive.

Pour some sugar on me! In the name of love

Pour some sugar on me! C’mon fire me uuupp

Pour your sugar on me! I can’t get enouugh

I’m hot, sticky, sweeet, from my head to my feet

The intelligence officer felt a confounding mixture of emotions - absolutely enamored by Chrys and her movements to the music, uncomfortable with watching Guarnere’s movements to the music, jealous that Chrys was dancing with Guarnere… Nix just could not let this stand. “I’m going to Chrys, and I suggest you go to your little nurse before it’s too late,” Lewis muttered to Dick before he got up, gesturing to the girl in question as he made his way to the makeshift dance floor. Winters looked away and crossed his arms - yes, he wanted to spend time with Zay, but there were a few barriers at the moment Dick was wrestling with.

First, Dick does not dance. He will if he absolutely must, he can waltz… a bit, but for someone in peak physical condition, the officer has two left feet on the dance floor. Second, the tantalizing rhythms set forth by the music and Zay’s hypnotic movements caused Dick to feel a certain overwhelm that he has never felt before, and he was quite unsure how to handle it. He was sure, though, that if he tried to talk to Zay now, absolute gibberish would come out of his mouth. Third, Zay already had a dancing partner, and the Cajun man definitely knew how to dance. If the officer had not looked away, he would see that Eugene and Zay were dancing in perfect sync, as if they were the only two in the room.

Meanwhile, the rest of the boys were in their own little worlds, either dancing in the goofiest way possible, like Luz trying to mess with Toye, or simply sitting back and taking in the music, like Ron and Bull, sporting amused expressions from their seats. The twelve were abruptly all pulled back to the same reality when the doorbell rang - the pizza had arrived!

Zay took the pizzas from the delivery man while Chrys brought out plates and napkins. The night continued with more shenanigans brought about by both the music as well as the Peronis, both Zay and Chrys absolutely delighted in sharing the music of their time with the soldiers.

When I was, a young boy, my father, took me into the city, to see a marching band…

As the intro to Welcome to the Black Parade played, Zay dramatically serenaded the group, her off-tune voice endearing her to the tipsy men. Zay, being rather inebriated herself, noticed Dick casually sitting by himself, enjoying the party going on around him. While the leader considered himself to be more of an introvert, seeing his men, who had been working and struggling so hard throughout the war, finally getting to relax and have fun warmed his heart more than he thought possible. Suddenly filled with confidence, Zay slowly strutted over to the redhead, making eye contact with him as she made her way to the couch. While Winters offered her a smile, everyone could see the hue on his cheeks that matched his hair.

He said will you, defeat them, your demons, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have maaaddee…

The lyrics being sung were not exactly sultry, but the look in Zay’s eyes had Dick feeling things that he had not felt since before the war. In that moment, it was as if Dick and Zay were the only two in the room. The nurse stopped right in front of the captain, bending over to look into his emerald eyes. Past her glasses, Winters could see the mischievous sparkle in Zay’s eyes, his brain going a million miles a minute. Was this really happening? If it was a dream, Dick silently prayed he would never wake up.

Because one day, I’ll leave you, a phantom, to lead you in the summer, to join the Black Parade…

Zay softly sang to Winters, trailing a finger lightly down his cheek, taking in his handsome features. She began to wonder the same question as him - is this real? As she looked into his eyes and their faces grew closer, inch by inch, the girl could not help but steal a glance at his lips before a resounding crash broke the two from their mutual trance.

“Hey, watch where the fuck you’re going!” Guarnere shouted at Liebgott before the two started throwing punches at each other. It was later revealed that Joe stumbled back and accidentally put his elbow into Bill’s pizza, which he was thoroughly enjoying. The two tumbled to the ground before the rest of the group dove in to break them apart, Zay and Chrys included. After a horrendous struggle, the group had the angry boys separated, Guarnere holding his hand to his eye and Liebgott tasting blood from his split lip. After figuring out what happened, a couple of extremely heartfelt apologies, and some first aid provided by Zay and Roe, everyone agreed that it was time for bed. Well… almost everyone.

A while after everyone had gone to bed, Chrys heard the sliding door open from her place on the wicker chair that lived on the apartment’s balcony. She turned her head to see none other than Captain Nixon poking his head outside.

“Do you mind some company?”

“Be my guest,” she replied nonchalantly, gesturing for Lewis to sit in the chair on the other side of the small glass table, still needing to be dusted from the pollen drop of the day. Nixon gave Chrys a nod of thanks before sitting and pulling out his Lucky Strikes and lighter. He stretched his arm out to offer Chrys a cigarette before lighting his own. The girl politely shook her head, silently cursing how the dark-haired man made smoking look so attractive.

“Isn't it past your bedtime, doll?” Nixon said around his cigarette, the scratch of the flint in his zippo echoing off the brick wall.

“If I didn't know you were a night owl I could say the same to you,” Chrys retorted, not noticing Nixon’s flirtatious tone. The twins may be opposites in many ways, but one thing that ties them together is their obliviousness to a boy’s romantic advances.

The intelligence officer let out a snicker and shook his head. “You think you know everything about me because you’ve seen me on a TV show?”

“Well I know the number of times Dick had to pour your own piss on you to wake you up is one too many,” the words left Chrys’ mouth with a smirk that left Lewis weak in the knees. He threw his head back in laughter before taking another drag from his cigarette.

“First you clean the dance floor with my ass, then you bring that shit up,” he mused to himself, remembering earlier in the night. When Nixon went up to cut in on Chrys and Guarnere dancing together, the movement Chrys’ body created almost felt supernatural. Lewis tried to keep up with her, but he kept staring at the girl and tripping over two left feet.

“What’s the matter, Yale boy? You can dish it but you can’t take it?”

The two night owls continued their banter well into the night, only retiring when the first birds of the morning began to chirp. Chrys and Zay passed in the hallway - Zay was dressed in her scrubs and on the way to work. The blue-haired girl sent a smile over to her twin, “You awake yet?”

“Awake? It’s time to go to bed!”

~~~~~

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Taglist: @b00ks1ut , @blueberry-ovaries , @bucky32557038ww2 , @claudycod , @dontirrigateme , @easycompany123 , @emilee1421 , @executethyself35 , @hanniewinnix , @ithinkabouttzu , @jump-wings , @love--persevering , @panzershrike-pretz , @stolen94 , @xxluckystrike

Thank you again for reading!! Be on the lookout for Chapter 7 dropping Tomorrow!! 🥰✨

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sonicasura · 1 year ago

Note

No Such Thing as Too Many Cats (2/2)

Joker: Alright everyone we did all the requests and mapped out a bit more of Mementos, let's call it for today.

It had been a long day for the thieves as they had gathered quite a number of viable requests for stealing others distorted desires. It had taken a good couple of hours but they stole all the desires and had gotten some good treasure and experience for their trouble.

Skull: Ah thank God, I didn't expect that these requests would take so long.

Fox: Well while it was tiring are troubles won't go unrewarded, hopefully all those people exprience there change of heart soon.

Mona who along with DQ and Farosh are tending to the Thieves wounds and exhaustion speaks up.

Mona: Ya Fox is right, we helped a whole lot of people and got a slew of treasures for our noble deeds. We all deserve a job well done... even you Skull.

Skull: I'll ignore that comment

Queen: Hehe... my first outing as an offical Phantom Thief, I never would have imagined I would be fighting shadows and stealing peoples hearts... it's sorta surreal.

Panther: Yup I felt the same way too, when I started being a Phantom Thief. You will get used to it... eventually.

DQ: Exactly it's not the simplest thing to get used to but, it will feel as normal as walking * finshes healing Skulls shoulder* there that should do it.

Skull: Thanks for the patch up

DQ: No problem now is there anyone else that...

* BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

That caused everyone to freeze and tense up... until DQ took out the source of the noise their HeliPad.

Queen: Huh Oh it's just your phone... wait I thought technology didn't work in the Metaverse.

DQ: From my understanding yes, though the HeliPad was made with Technology from my world and magic, so that is why it's able to bypass the Metaverses technology restriction * fiddling with HeliPad* but what I want to know is why is it beeping, hopefully I didn't damage it that would be-

* Click*

???: Hello, Hello, Hello is this thing working?

If everyones attention wasn't focused on the HeliPad it was now

???: Gahh that Doctor and his weird devices why they have to be so damn comp-

Purrgatroyd?

That one utterance of a name from DQ changed the atmosphere of the situation and the first to speak was Fox.

Fox: Your aquainted with the person on the phone?

Before DQ could answer the voice acompanied by two other rang out

Purrgatroyd/???/???: Kiddo/ Captain/ My Friend

DQ: Mogworth!?!?! Leokid!?!?! Ho-w-w How?! How did you manage to message me?

Mogsworth: It's a long story Captain one that's better told in person

After a getting a better understanding of the three monsters location and filling in the thieves on the situtation they end up meeting at Mementos Rest Station.

There the Thieves are met with a strange sight. A large orange cat, who seemed quite portly and had an attire similar to a bandit with scars and an eyepatch. Second was an equally odd sight a smaller cat like monster whose attire looked like a mix of pirate apparel and a punk rock style with a bright mohawk and their tongue hanging out like a rockband member ( also rocking an eyepatch). The final looked the most " Normal" a small lion like monster who stood just taller than the punk rock pirate. They sported shaggy brown pants with a belt, gloves, a strap over there shoulder which gave way to a small cape, a headband, though the most eye catching thing was a shinning red dagger along with two swords that were almost bigger than the little lion strapped to their back.

Introductions were given and a explation followed. While DQ was gone, Rose, Duffer, and Eileen sought help from Dr. Helix Helix to find DQ, which led them to collect the ingredients and magical artifacts which through multiversal theroy and magical theroy that is way too complicated to explain ( Purrgatroyd's words) they made a device to try and located DQ to try and rescue them from where ever they found themselves. Unfortunately the device just dragged the three monsters who there helping Rose and others to DQ instead of telling them where DQ landed.

A compilcated and hard to sallow tale but after everything it was pretty by the numbers. Well at least DQ getting back home seemed much closer...

Now how to get these three back to Leblanc?

I just imagine them grabbing a large tarp and have the three feline monsters hidden under it. The excuse should someone ask that it was for a project nearby. I can only imagine Sojiro's face though. Lol

#sonicasura #sonicasura answers #foolmariofest #dragon quest #dragon quest monsters #dragon quest series #dragonquest #dq #dq series #dqm #psaro #persona #persona series #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #fan scenarios

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destinyclan · 1 year ago

Text

Before Moon 0 (8/8)

"Hey, check it out!" Cranepaw called out to the rest of the group that was just starting to wake up. Oriolespeckle emerged from the cave all of them shared the last night, stretching himself snd yawning, before replying: "Yeah, wow, grass! I've never seen that before!" with tired sarcasm. It wasn't long until he'd noticed what Cranepaw had actually taken such an interest in, and soon he was joining her and pawing at the ground too. "Hey Bouncerise, you gotta check this out!"

The cat in question left the cave soon therafter, as did the rest of the group. They all stared with wonder and confusion at the sight ahead: The grassy field with sandy patches resembled much more a twoleg's nest now. No matter how late in the night it was when the cats arrived here, they all recalled tall grass passing them by as they looked for a place to sleep. But now it looked like someone had used their claws to cut down every single blade of grass, a task impossible for any cat alone. The field of short grass extended pretty far too, forming an almost circular outline, if you count in the patches of sand.

All the cats marveled at this impossible event, safe for Shortgrass, who seemed more busy cleaning her fur and basking in the sun, though not without shooting an occasional glance at the scene too. The apprentices and the two adults, Bouncerise and Oriolespeckle, alike were play-figthing and rolling around in the grass, the noises of which eventually lured Sunnyfeather outside, to ask what all of this was about. She needed no answer though, seeing it for herself. After a moment of being nothing but baffled, she turned back around to the cave, and began gently leading Aphidkit and Mudkit outside to the rest of the clan, keeping them close but letting them play too.

Grousestar found herself more to the backend of this spectacle, retreating to speak instead to Tempesthaze. "It's a sign..." Grousestar muttered, though half to herself really. "Obviously." Tempesthaze replied in a rather monotone manner. It seemed as though she wanted to continue, but Grousestar already bypassed her and approached a formation of rocks, situated next to a hollow tree. Without a second thought, she climbed atop and watched over the cats. Her cats. Her gaze fell onto Oriolespeckle and Bouncerise, who had stopped playing with the apprentices, instead getting up and shaking their pelts, obviously uncomfortable at the sudden presence of Shortgrass. She had approached the grassy field, after taking notice of Grousestar, whom she now viewed with a curious look from her ever so cunning eyes. Tempestpaw seemed to soon therafter join the warriors, leaving behind Cranepaw, who was now talking to the two kittens instead, teaching them what looked like hunting crouches.

Seeing this from up there... it was an undescribable feeling for Grousestar. "Pride" didn't quite cut it, neither did "Love"... but nonetheless her heart felt so full. She looked at these cats and she knew that whatever destiny had in store for them next, this was the right way. And they would all be ready for it. She pondered her own words for a moment, then deciding to gather the group's attention.

"Cats of the group! Gather close by for a meeting!" she called out and sooner or later, the cats complied. Some hesitating for a bit longer, like Oriolespeckle, after Shortgrass passed him by and touched him with her tail, as she picked a more secluded spot. Ears perked and eyes focused, they all looked up at her. Even Tempesthaze, despite sitting right at the foot of the boulder.

"StarClan has spoken! We have reached the end of our journey, and they have marked the borders of our new camp!" Excited whispers emerged from the apprentices, the other cats turned their heads to see for themselves.

"The realization of our new Clan's territorial borders will soon follow suit, I will make sure of that!" Grousestar continued. "But before we begin with making this our new home, there are ceremonies to be held..."

All the heads that had turned prior were now laser focused on Cranepaw and Tempestpaw, who looked confused and excited respectfully. Grousestar decided not to let this bring her off track. "Clearly, StarClan did more than pave the grounds for our new home last night. They also foretold me the answer to something that I had wondered since receiving my nine lives."

Her gaze wandered over to Shortgrass. The black she-cat didnt allow herself a change in expression, Grousestar couldn't know how she felt about what she assumed would come next. Perhaps she didn't know yet? Grousestar put aside her worries soon enough, this was a sign from StarClan, a decision of theirs, so she had no say in this regardless.

"Shortgrass, please step up."

She complied, and now her eyes widened ever so slightly. And it may have just been age, but was there a tremble to her step? A glint of disbelief shimmered through in her unwavering expression, as Grousestar touched noses with her briefly, before announcing to her and the rest of the Clan:

"Shortgrass, you are hereby the deputy of our new Clan. I entrust you with the duties that coincide with this position, as do I bestow upon you the responsibility of leadership, should I not be able to anymore."

An aura of pride and confidence replaced the prior disbelief, as the black she-cat turned around to stand tall in front of the other cats. The congratulatory exclamations of her name that she now expected took their time, Oriolespeckle and Bouncerise looked anything but happy about this decision. They both eventually averted their gaze. Fearfully? Disrespectfully? The two of them wouldn't join in either, when eventually Cranepaw shouted Shortgrass' name and the other cats followed suit. She eventually left her spot on the boulder and returned to the patch she sat in previously. Grousestar didn't seem to take notice of this, though. Her eyes lingered on the loudly cheering apprentices for a while, then she spoke to the clan once again:

"I am certain that the future ahead of us will be grand, though, we will have to build it up ourselves. Step by step, paw by paw, tirelessly. And to ensure a great future, we must look ahead, at who will live on to tell our tales. And we must provide them with the best we can offer."

She now fully looked at the apprentices, who both stared up to her with big eyes. The other cats' gazes wandered over to the two young she-cats aswell.

"Cranepaw, please step up."

Was that a hint of jealously Grousestar spotted in Tempestpaw's eyes? Cranepaw didn't seem to notice either way, virtually beaming with happiness and letting out a purr as she leapt up the boulder to touch noses with her leader. Though, overeager as she was, she seemed to have forgotten that Grousestar would speak first before that. Oops. Thankfully, the leader continued as usual after the initial incident of Cranepaw awkwardly bumping into her. In fact, did Grousestar herself purr a little?

"It is true that I haven't known you for very long, Cranepaw, but from what I have observed of you, you present a very clear picture of yourself. You are playful, cheerful, energetic, and eager to learn. You are you, and you're definitely not ashamed of that."

Grousestar scanned the group, eventually singling out who happened to be the only tom. "Oriolespeckle will be your new mentor. I could see that the two of you have a natural inclination toward each other. It's easy to see why, despite his moons as an apprentice veing long behind him, he seems as playful and humorous as a cat your age. Perhaps he can teach you all that is necessary, whilst keeping the joy of life in the back of your mind."

Finally, they touched noses, and Cranepaw jumped down from the boulder. Oriolrspeckle, equally bewildered and delighted, approached his new apprentice rapidly, touching noses with her aswell, as the cats around them shouted her name. "My first apprentice... this is gonna be so awesome!"

The two of them returned to their spot in the grass, sitting next to each other. Gazing at them, and then at Grousestar with eyes full of anticipation, Tempestpaw's tail lashed around. "Tempestpaw, please step up." Finally, she thought. She bypassed Tempesthaze who eyes her sharply, and did as the leader told. Though, before Grousestar spoke, she did, and in the mose demanding tone possible too.

"Grousestar, I want to become the fiercest, and most feared warrior of all time! I left my clan of birth because I knew I could pursue that dream here. So please, apprentice me to a cat that can make my dream come true!"

Everyone seemed shocked. Bouncerise and Oriolespeckle exchanged short, baffled glances, Sunnyfeather shook her head at the sheer audacity, even Shortgrass, who had moved on to absent-mindedly clean her fur, paused to look over to the boulder again. Tempesthaze's ears layed flat. Truly, everyone seemed shocked, except for Grousestar.

Her eyes had went dark. After a moment of letting Tempestpaw's words echo through the camp, Grousestar's pupils thinned down to slits. She slowly moved, towering over the apprentice who, even if she would never admit it, was a little intimidated at this sight. The leader let the discomfort last for another moment, before finally speaking up again.

"Very well then." she began, her voice so different from how she adressed Cranepaw before. Silky, but very strict. Dangerous. Tempestpaw laid her ears flat unwillingly, the rest of the clan staring restlessly at the events unfolding. "You are certainly confident in your potential, Tempestpaw. And while I won't tolerate anything like this in the future, I agree that you should be apprenticed to someone who can make the most of what you are capable of."

Grousestar saw none of it, only the withstanding glare of Tempestpaw, desparately hiding her rising nervosity, Shortgrass was now watching with very heightened interest. Bouncerise side-eyed her, with a very bad feeling. She then turned to the leader, praying she wouldn't say the words she though she might. And her prayers were heard, it seemed.

"Tempestpaw, you will be my apprentice. I will teach you the ways of the battlefield, and how to act fast in a crisis. I won't teach you how to be the fiercest warrior, but I will teach you what you need to know if you decide that that's what you're going to be. Are we clear?"

Tempestpaw reluctantly nodded her head,touched noses with her new mentor, and sat down next to a relieved Bouncerise. Tempestpaw was anything but relieved, however. Had she just started this journey on bad footing with the leader of all cats? At least hearing the cats cheer for her helped her feel better. Besides, she got what she wanted, right? Fully alert, she eyed the leader curiously, as she hadn't moved nor ended the gathering.

"Lastly... I want to thank all of you." Grousestar seemed to have let go of her more stern voice again, adressing the cats in a manner suitable for a leader. "I look at all of you and I am relieved for this Clan. A part of me wishes that the circumstances could have been better, that the losses suffered could have been mitigated, avoided even." She caught herself before her tone got any more somber.

"But if this is the final way to save the clans, I am glad that StarClan has chosen me. They have chosen all of us. All of you have walked or crossed the path of golden light that led us to our new home. This is no foolish luck, no chance. This is Destiny!"

"We are DestinyClan!"

One after another, the cats joined in, repeating the name of their new clan, voices booming through the treetops and carried by the wind. The whole forest was bound to know who they were.

#destinyclan #clangen #before moon 0 #prologue #bm0 part 8

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veal7creative · 2 months ago

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[\\Rose/Water back from round one

\\Your lack of faith wounds us

\\And 'sides, I don't even fuckin know anyone who could fuck with the firmament, unless HA's shitty "hard light" rip-off counts.

\\Theres a difference between psych-warfare and full-on imploding someone's metaphysical self, just spreading some old fashioned paranoia

\\Memetics too, can't forget them.

\\The DHIYED vets sure didn't

\\More importantly, though, who the hell is "HE"

\\RA? METAT? I'm not stupid enough to get a MONIST on our asses

\\We still have at least an hour till the first shot pops off.

\\Depending on just how much they modded those Shermans, at least. Last I remember, the default software isn't that hard to jury rig for some minor...

\\Additional defenses.

\\Wait until you hear klaxons to fret over death reports, we doubt there will be any more than four tonight.

\\Perhaps less, if things are left be by their systems. Then we won't have to go loud at all.

\\They call themselves professionals? Their protocol, maybe, skills too if half these kill records are accurate, but half the systems are just beefed up HA defaults, easy enough to bypass if you have the tech to crack their printfiles

\\The other half look like someone tried to keep a Goblin out without knowing what liturgicode is, there's damage that doesn't make sense in causal systems and vulnerabilities that we can exploit without even setting up a signal booster.

\\Now's about when I gotta start prepping Deepwell.]

[\\By the way, quick scan of your public records shows Iris probably needs a break, maybe some secretaries, or just someone to grease the wheels.

\\Tell her I can send her some good quality shit, IPS-N's caffeine pills do the job but that's meant for one long-haul at a time, not to handle long-term stress.

\\Real-talk, none of this "Drink Deep" bullshit? I got a blend that I had to live off of for a month back before I got my buddy over here to help me out of the hole I dug myself into, slow-release and soothing.

\\Comes in tea, pills, and patches, but I can't seem to get gummies to last long enough

\\Little bit of energy, little edge off the anxiety, little bit of focus, makes a day go by easy.

\\Doesn't kill you like stims does, crash you like caffeine does, or to paraphrase the one guy I know who still smokes printhash, "zoink you out"

\\I'll give her a few days supply, as a thanks for the info I found on these guys systems. Still gotta get physical access to read it, but once I board it'll be a snap.

\\If she needs more, she's free to bug me anytime. I know what it's like to need to handle everything now, and need everything to stop, and need to do everythin-

\\Rose/Water out. Sorry for the trouble, thanks for the job.]

Announcement from Akhaan Security and Administrative.

A bounty of 1,200 manna for the safe return of one Jorj Latulas, last known location orbiting Ocram IV. Being held hostage by a four pirate strong team of Krakensong.

An additional 200 manna will be paid for every pirate neutralised, dead or alive.

-Alexis, Akhaan Security.

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

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gingerbread spice latté | stuart twombly

word count; 7629

summary; stuart is counting on a little bit of a festive miracle to get what he really wants for christmas.

notes; none, really. nothing to say here.

warnings; none. not a one.

If there was anything that Stuart hated, it was the chalkboards outside of the little coffee shop that he called his place of work. He hated the way the signs always seemed to look sloppy when he did them, and he hated balancing on a ladder - especially in the snow - and he particularly hated the way the chalk marks seemed to get everywhere, all over his clothes in stains and on his face, and drying out his fingertips and the feel of it on his skin. He had a lot of negative feelings about chalkboards, so, yeah, he definitely hated decorating the chalkboards.

If there was anything that Stuart loved, though, it was you. He was completely and utterly infatuated with you, he couldn't help it, not when you looked so insanely adorable as you scowled at a pile of knotted Christmas lights in your hands, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the counter. He’d helped you drag the tree you’d delivered three days ago into the back corner earlier, stabbing himself on a pine needle and almost choking on his breath when you’d rubbed your thumb over the spot on his index finger while cradling his hand to make it better.

The thing was, you’d been his best and closest work colleague for three years now, he’d formed a little crush on you from the very second that you had walked in two summers ago spelling like coconuts and mangos, and ordered an iced tea, before noting the ‘help wanted’ sign pinned up behind him, and pulled a CV out of your purse with an excited grin. You’d been all but hired form the moment you’d shaken hands with the boss, the interview being a formality, and just a week later, you’d been putting on the navy blue apron with the company logo stitched onto it and joining him behind the counter.

He’d kept it in control until now, because up until a month ago, you’d been in a relationship, a long-term one, and he'd been able to find a clear line and he had a great ability not to cross it. You didn’t stay late after the close-up shifts to have a drink with him, and he didn’t tempt himself into growing closer to you by talking to you outside of work. You were just the cute barista he saw four times a week. But, then you’d been single, and you’d started staying behind after work to have a coffee with him, and let him walk you home as it grew darker into the winter, and you’d even started messaging him outside of work. ‘Friending’ one another on Facebook had led to chatting, which was exchanging numbers, and then there were the times you were bored, or he was, and you’d spend hours on the phone just talking.

Since then, he’d been in deep. That was exactly how he found himself in his current situation, watching as you mumbled to yourself and huffed as you undid the lights, looping them in untangled trails around yourself as you went. Maybe he leaned a little too far to see you, maybe he just wanted to get a better look at your face as you sat illuminated by the fairy lights you’d already strung up along the counter that made you glow like an angel, because one moment he’d been writing ‘Christmas Specials - only $4’ on the sign over the door and watching you wistfully, and then next he’d been tumbling unsteadily on the ladder and landing on the snow, head cracking against the concrete as he groaned, thankful for the layer of icy flakes that had cushioned his fall somewhat, even if he had hit the ground hard enough that his vision had gone black for a second, and was still spotting slightly.

His head was spinning, and the second it cleared, you were leaning over him, wide eyes and distressed expression on your face as you knelt beside him, and despite having the breath punched from his lungs with the fall, he was now breathless for an entirely new reason. Heat rose to his cheeks, enough to melt the snow that was landing on his face as he tried to sit up, feeling your fingers snake around to cup the back of his head as you helped him up, shuffling back to sit on your legs as you contained to kneel beside him.

“Oh my God, Stu!” Warm breath was coming out in pants in the cold afternoon air, and his embarrassment only increased. “Are you okay?”

He groaned again, the pain of a nod making him wince, and he paused for a second to clear it, feeling the throbbing pain in the back of his skull getting worse. Your fingers were still within his dark tresses, tracing lightly over his scalp, and he hissed under his breath as the tips brushed across the sore spot on his head. “‘M going to be fine. I promise.”

“That is gonna’ leave a nasty bump. The one day you don’t wear your beanie is the day you could’ve used your extra head protection.” He couldn't help by laugh at your words, hating the way a spike of pain shot along his spine from his skull as he did.

“I know, I know.”

“How’d it happen?” You were staring at him instantly now, your hand slipping down from his head to sit on his shoulder, your thumb brushing against his neck each time you moved it, and he wasn’t sure if you even knew what you were doing, but you made his mind stutter to a complete halt, blank of any coherent thought as he stared at you.

“Just, uh, distracted. Slipped, I guess. Icy.” He gestured a hand around himself vaguely, hating the way he couldn’t even form real sentences, and you smirked at him, nodding your head.

“Yeah, icy.” You were teasing him, he knew you were, but he couldn't even be mad in the same way he’d be mad at someone else, because as you smiled at him, a glint in your eye and a sweet looking taunt that made him weak, all for him, he just shrugged, grinning back at you. You stood up, hands shaking a little as you brush the tip of your nose, rubbing it to bring heat back to your face as you began to chill, and when you brought it to his attention, he realised just how cold it was, sitting in the mounds of snow. You brushed yourself off, wet marks along your legs from where you’d been perched in the ice, and held your hands out to him. “Let’s get you up and inside. C’mon.”

He didn’t hesitate, hands slipping into your own, and he held on tightly, letting you pull him to his feet before he was brushing himself down of the ice and following you into the building, the bell above the door chiming as the two of you entered, warmth encasing him as he did, and a tingling spread along his skin. The smell of freshly ground coffee, and all the different sweet and spiced syrups that had been bought in to match the drinks, as well as the slightly sweet smell of herbal teas in the background.

You led him through to the back, sitting him down on the boxes that had yet to be unpacked, and he popped the buttons on the front of his coat, pushing it down his shoulders as he watched you disappear. When you came back, you had a towel wrapped around a clump of ice, scooped fresh from the ice machine for frozen coffees and teas, and he reached his hand out for it, before you bypassed him. Instead of stopping before him and handing it over, you stepped up between his parted legs, bring a hand around to the back of his head to press it to the sore spot gently, and while it hurt for a split second, it felt like the patch was on fire, and he was relieved at the cooling pressure, letting out a deep sigh.

He fell forwards, he couldn't help it, forehead pressed to the soft flesh of your stomach through your jumper, and you chuckled, his head bobbing a little as you did, before your other hand was coming up to play with his hair. It was slightly damp, he could tell from the way it stuck to your fingers, but he wasn’t all that surprised; actually, he wouldn't be surprised if he got a chill from going out to do the signs in the snow, but someone had to do it today, and he wasn’t going to let it be you.

He shifted, chin resting on your stomach instead, and you moved his hair away from his forehead, offering him a little smile as he stared up at you. “You’re looking at me from the worst possible angle.”

“You look great.”

“Uh-huh.” You rolled your eyes, and he snorted a little at the way your face screwed up.

“Like an angel.” This made you really laugh, deep and full-bodied, and he wrapped his hands around the backs of your legs. Large palms spreading out over the backs of your knees, pulling you a little closer and he didn’t miss the way your breath hitched and your eyes widened a little. He wasn’t blind, nor stupid, he was well-aware of the way things had been developing between the two of you, he knew you had some kind of feelings for him, he just didn’t know if you were ready for them, only a few months out of a relationship that had lasted years, and he was more than happy to wait for you if you weren’t. “A Christmas angel. My angel.”

“How hard did you hit your head again, Twombly?”

He rolled his eyes, it was his turn to laugh, but you didn’t back away from him, bringing your hand down to place the melting ice pack down on the side as he stood, towering over you now, hands sliding up from your thighs to your waist, a respectable place, no matter how much he wished it was a little lower, a grip just a little tighter, a little more intimate. “Not that hard, I swear. But, it doesn’t mean that it’s not how I feel. You really are an angel.”

Your own hands were on him now, too. Sitting lightly on his biceps, nails dragging against his skin lightly through the cotton of his shirt and he shuddered slightly under your grazes. He could smell the perfume you wore, a seasonal one, spices and berries that you swapped out with the seasons and he felt intoxicated by it already.

“A very pretty angel, might I add.”

“Yeah?” You grinned now, and he could taste the gingerbread-flavoured coffee on your breath still, the drink you’d been sipping on all day, a slow crowd and so you’d busied yourself with last-minute Christmas decorations. The snow had been a blessing, the cold weather and icy temperatures had ushered in large crowds who sought out hot drinks and winter aesthetics, and the two of you had barely any time to set up for the Christmas celebrations. Now, though, as the snow came down in thick storms from fluffy clouds, you had a day of quiet and calm.

He watched as you leaned in, the tip of your nose bumping his own, and he swallowed thickly, his nerves taking over, but he was quick to steady them, trying to soothe his racing heart. “The prettiest, sweetheart.”

Just as he’d garnered the bravery to close that gap, the ringing of the bell at the front door shocked through the air, a startling noise that clamoured in his ears and made you jump back with a little squeak. His eyes went wide, body stiffening and heat was crawling up his cheeks. The same look he was sure was reflected on his own face was present on yours; a little embarrassed, a little flustered, and totally caught off guard, before you were shrinking away from him, a sweet smile on your lips as your hands slid to find his, squeezing reassuringly.

“That’s a, uh, customer.”

You grinned, entertained by his awkwardness once again, and you picked the ice pack back up, pressing it into his hand as you nodded your head. “That it is. I got it, you put that pack back on. Hope we didn’t break that smarty-pants brain of yours.”

With that, you were stepping away from him, turning your back on him with a final cheeky smile, and disappearing out front. Your voice rang out a second later, followed by the fake-laughter he knew you offered up to those who made crappy jokes about he fun names of all of the coffees, before you wee switching on machines, the coffee-grinding drowning out your voice, and he sighed, unable to stop the smile taking place on his face as he shook his head to himself.

He waited a while longer, hearing the bell ding a handful more times, hearing your cheery voice greet them and take orders, before machines were whirring into life, dulling moments later to reveal the sound of the cash register dinging and then the bell was signalled again as they left. When the throbbing in his skull eventually gave in, and he was just left with a slightly sensitive patch on the back of his head that was raised up in a firm and angry bump he was sure would come to cause struggle later that night when he got in bed, he finally ventured back into the main shop again.

He searched for you, concern flicking over his features for only a second, before you were popping out from behind the Christmas tree, a box of ornaments under your hands, and he could see the fairy lights already strung within the branches, yet to be turned on at the socket. You caught his eye, a sweet smile pulling at your lips, before he took tentative steps over to you, holding his hands out to retrieve the cardboard box in your hands.

You let him have it, and he held it steadily for you, following you in circles around the tree until he was dizzy, but you were beginning to be happy with the placements of the colour scheme and the ornaments put up among the branches. It was domestic, far too domestic for his liking, and he couldn't help the way his mind wandered.

He was picturing you setting up a slightly smaller tree in the corner of his apartment, wearing one of his jumpers and a pair of leggings, the fluffy socks he got you as a gift every year, sipping eggnog and singing to Christmas music the way you did when the songs came on over the radio, interspersed with the regular hits that played on loop. He pictured getting to come up behind you, arms around your waist, kissing at your cheek until your face screwed up and you turned to kiss him properly. He was dreaming about Christmas day, not needing an excuse to kiss you, cold days where you’d snuggle up a little closer to him in bed, and on the couch, and getting to hold your hand when you wandered along in the snowy streets with him. He wanted to sip hot chocolate with you, and take you home to meet his parents and all of his siblings as his mom showed you baby photos from the albums, an-

“You remember our first Christmas?”

He snapped back out of his reverie, a blush crawling up his cheeks as you looked at him expectantly, and he wondered idly if you’d been talking this whole time and he’d just missed it all, but he only nodded, a smile taking place in his face as he thought about it. “Yeah, ‘course I do. How could I forget? It was a nightmare.”

He told no lie, it truly had been disastrous. It wasn’t the same kind of icy but dry chill that surrounded you both now, this year was a perfect white Christmas, just enough snow to keep everyone inside, three days of peaceful quiet as the flakes fell down from the sky. That had been a weirdly warm but snowy Christmas. The snow was melting when it hit the ground, muddy ice and slushy trails now that were slippy, the floors were constantly wet and needed to be mopped.

There had been angry customers, frustrated with the weather that snapped when the machines took too long to grind beans, or their order was a little off, or they just didn’t like the prices. The pair of you had been run off of your feet, absolutely exhausted by the end of it all, and more than happy to shut up shop at the end of the 23rd, not to return until the 27th.

“Last year wasn’t so bad.”

“Until I burned the gingerbread biscuits, and we had to call the fire department.” He felt his face screw up again as you laughed, souring as he remembered the burnt spice scent that had lingered around for almost a full week afterwards, and the way he was certain he was going to lose his job when the boss had found out, but he’d just about been spared, on a probationary period. Truly, he wouldn't have been all torn up about it if he’d lost the job, he could easily get another, but he would’ve been begrudging to lose out on all the time he got to spend with you.

“That was very funny. For me, anyway.” He stuck his tongue out childishly at your teasing, dropping the box in his arms down when the final decorations were up on the tree, and letting out a satisfied little sigh as the two of you looked up at your masterpiece. “Holy shit, it looks awesome. I should be a professional Christmas tree decorator. Is that a thing?”

“Probably. For, like, the really rich people who have those fancy trees that always just seem to show up in the living room in movies.” You grinned, shaking your head and gathering up all the boxes and storage, pushing it away towards the counter with your foot. “You’d have to make all your money at Christmas. Think you can fit in that many trees?”

“Nah. I’ll just do, like, three trees a day but charge a grand each time. That’s how good my tree decorating skills are.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, watching as you found the right plug, flicking on the socket as you scoffed.

“What, you don't think my tree-skills are that good?” He shrugged, and you raised your brows, plugging the device in, lowering the lighting of the room a little bit with the switch on the wall, and admiring the glow of the lights as they all came to life. He had to admit, it was stunning. Warm lights were reflecting from gold and silver decorations, the star at the top seeming like it was haloed by the light below, and it brought every other decoration in the little shop together. “How about now?”

You came back over, standing beside him, lifting his arm for you to tuck yourself under, and he chuckled at the action, fingers running gently along your arm as you settled yourself into his side, trying to steady his racing heart as he did. “Okay, fair enough. This would look epic on your tree portfolio.”

“I knew it.”

He only rolled his eyes, leaving the conversation at that, tipping his head to the side a little to rest his cheek atop the crown of your head. Maybe it wasn’t the way he'd daydreamed it, but he was happy to wait until that time came around. You stood there for a while, just like that, and he was more than happy to, just holding you, and letting your fingers play with the front of his jumper, tangling lightly and brushing hard enough that he could feel it all the way through to his skin.

“Been a good two hours since we had any customers, y’know.” He startled a little, the silence broken, and he looked over to the clock, noting you were right, having become distracted with your tree decorating and reminiscing, and the light outside was beginning to fade away.

“I think, if we closed up a little early, nobody would mind.”

You turned, a little glint in your eyes as you looked at him, raising a hand to pat at his cheek with a smirk, and he slapped your hand away. “I like the way you think, Twombly.”

He followed you as you went, the two of you more than used to the routine you’d got through as you began the closedown of the little coffee shop. He was on trash and machine duty, he’d empty all the filters and change all the bins and shut everything down after setting it off on its cleaning cycles. You went through the fridges, making sure every bottle was closed and counted, writing up the stock sheets, and going upstairs to the storage rooms to get more of anything you’d run out of during the day, before wiping down all of the tables.

Just like that, the two of you were off. Working in a perfect harmony with one another, humming along to Christmas music as you worked. You disappeared for a little while, and he was left alone, beginning to get everything finished, and stacking up the various trash bags in the corner, all but one machine now on their cleaning cycle, sterile tablets put into each to make sure they were thoroughly disinfected, and he couldn't help but notice how good the tree the pair of you had set up actually looked as the light began to fade. Only ten minutes until the actual closing time of the shop, and if there was one huge benefit to the winter, it was that people never came out as late.

Summer brought groups of teens who were too young to drink coming to the coffee shop to meet up, drinking iced teas and thinking they ruled the world, and he hated the backchat he got whenever he had to kick them out at closing time in order to be able to gather up the fold-away chairs that lay outside. In the winter, they didn't even bother putting those chairs out. Placing two of the tallest mugs under the spouts of the final remaining machine, he set it off, a generous dash of gingerbread syrup in the bottom of one. He made a jug of hot milk, foaming at the top, and watching as they began to fill up, hearing the creaks of the floorboards over his head as you moved around the stock room and gathered what you needed.

Only moments later, you were making your way down the stairs, uneven steps, before backing your way into the room and huffing, placing the full crate down onto the counter and blowing a piece of air back and out of your face.

“Can we make a deal?”

“Depends on the deal.” He smirked at the way your face hardened a little, even though both of you already knew that he would say ‘yes’, for you.

“Will you put away the last boxes of unused Christmas things if I take out the trash bags instead?” He sighed, seeming to contemplate it, before giving you a cheeky grin, and nodding his head.

“Well, I suppose so.”

You beamed, leaning up to brush a kiss to his cheek as you passed him by, before you were moving away towards the backdoor to find the trash, and he went back to the task he was doing. He swirled in the milk, artfully making sure there was a layer of foam at the top as the coffee poured in, the perfect mix reaching up to the top of each mug, right to the rim, and he placed them both further away on the counter. Leaving them to cool, he did as you’d asked, carrying the boxes up the stairs two at a time, shivering a little at the backdoor that was popped open, and deep down, he was glad he didn’t have to do the task, the industrial waste bins being all the way at the opposite end of the pathway, and there was at last three trips worth of bags there.

It was still snowing, a few flakes gathering in the doorway and melting as they touched the floor, and Stuart made a mental note to heat up some heating pads and put them into his bed before getting ready to sleep tonight, so his covers would be nice and warm when he got into them later tonight. He still had time, and so he put away the box of stock you’d brought down, returning the box to the stockroom and jogging back down. There were no more bags, he knew you must be on your way back by now, and so the timing was perfect, both of you finishing up your set of tasks in correlation.

Using the shape stencil for the chocolate powders, he placed one over the top of your drink, sprinkling the dust across the top until a layer was made, a brown heart sitting prominently on the top of the foamy surface, and he pushed it over to one side of the counter, dusting his own with cinnamon, and taking a seat on the opposite side of the bar, blowing gently on the surface of the drink.

He heard the drag of the metal, the chill being shut out as you closed the door and the sound of locks bolting, before making your way through to meet him. There was snow in your hair that you were trying to shake loose, and goosebumps raised along your skin, and you let out a little huff as you sat opposite him, hands wrapping around your mug for warmth, and he raised his brows, taking a sip of his drink as he stared at you.

“It’s cold as fuck out there.” You smiled a little at the gesture on top, the shape in the foam, offering him an endearing smile, before running a wooden stirrer through it to mix it all up.

“You didn’t think to wear your coat?”

“Didn’t think it was that cold, and by the time I was halfway through, I just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.” You shrugged casually, and he studied you for a moment, before feeling the wicked grin that was cracking across his cheeks.

“You didn’t bring one, did you?”

You paused for a second, before shaking your head with a sigh, and he cheered internally at being right. “I hate that you can read me so well, Twombly. But, no. I didn’t bring a jumper, and I didn’t want to put on my coat because then it would be wet and cold for the walk home.”

He disappeared for only a second, bringing his hoodie back through in his hands, and holding the top of it up for you. You pushed your head through the gap, arms following, and he pulled it down your torso as you cozied into it, before he was sitting down once again, and enjoying the appreciative little noise you left out as the warmth of the oversized hoodie embraced you.

“You are a gift from God himself. You make me my favourite hot drinks, and you keep me warm so I don’t get a chill. Whatever would I do without you, huh, Stu?”

He scrunched up his nose at the nickname, hating the word himself, but loving the way it sounded when you said it, and so he settled for tolerating it in silence, a single shoulder raising and falling in a weak attempt to brush off the gestures, in hopes you wouldn't look too far into them. “Speaking of gifts, check the front pocket.”

He nodded his head to the garment now hanging on your frame, and your jaw dropped, excitement flashing across your features and he sipped his drink to hide his grin, watching as you dug both hands into the pockets, pulling out a small and neatly wrapped box that he’d had ready to give to you for two weeks now.

You placed it down on the tabletop before you, eyeing it for a second before giving in to your curiosity and running a nail underneath the seal of the wrapping. It popped open, and you undid it carefully, before pulling out the box from within. Undoing the latch and pushing it open delicately, there was a little gasp on your lips as you took in the design inside, eyes flicking up to him for a second, and there was something considerably softer and warmer evident in your eyes than had been there before.

“Stuart, this is so pretty.” You ran the pad of a single finger across it, admiring the gem within, before pulling it out slowly by its string. A beautiful charm, silver chain that was shining, a new clasp put on, holding a beautiful charm along it; your birthday stone. “Can you put it on for me?”

He was on his feet in an instant, making his way over to you and standing behind you, taking it from your hands and letting you sweep your hair out of the way before he was fastening it around your neck, and letting you admire it on yourself. “I saw it a few weeks ago, in that little vintage charity shop type store down the road, the one you love, and I just knew you’d like it.”

“Correction, I love it.” He beamed, daring to reach a hand out across the table towards you, and you spread your fingers wide for him, enough for him to slip his own digits with yours, holding onto you as your joint hands sat atop the counter. “I got you something too.”

“Well, can I have it?”

“Uh, not quite. Well, not until next summer.” He snorted a laugh, using his free hand to take a sip of his drink. “And, it’s not really something you open, it’s more just something you do.”

“Is it something we can do together?”

“No.” You hummed, squeezing his hand a little at the confusion that flittered across his features. “You know, you’re meant for more than this coffeeshop, Stu. You’re so smart, and so good with all your computers and your tech, and I know you want more.”

“Uh-huh..”

He was confused, he had no idea where you were taking this, and his eyes narrowed apprehensively as he tried to work out where you were going with it all, and what it could possibly have to do with his Christmas present. “You always say you want to go for some amazing opportunities, but don’t think you’re good enough. But, I know you are. So, I may or may not have signed you up to a few things.”

“I feel like this is leading to something weird, like, a tantric sex course, or something.”

You gave him a disbelieving look, a low chuckle emitted from you, before you were shaking your head. “No, not tantric sex. Unless they do that at Google, I’m not sure.”

“Google?”

“Yeah.” You played it off like it was no big deal, but his jaw dropped slightly, and you were staring into your mug with a little smile on your face. “They do this internship thing every year, as you know, since you told me about it, but you didn’t think you had what it takes. I sent in an application form for you, and did some emailing, and there’s a place available for you if you want it. Next summer, six weeks long, I think, but they provide everything. You don’t have to take it, you can turn it down, but I think it could be the beginning of an amazing future for you, Stuart.”

He didn’t know what to say, his eyes were burning slightly as tears formed, and he laughed breathlessly, ducking his head to try and blink them away, before he was taking his hand from your own to wipe at his eyes. His head shook with disbelief, and he felt his entire body deflate with the contented sigh that he let out. “They really accepted me?”

“They did! I’ve been telling you for years how good you are, Stuart, you just have to believe it.”

“You’re the most incredible woman I have ever met.” He looked back up to you now, a look he couldn't quite decipher flashing over your features, before your head was ducking as you nibbled on your lower lip, embarrassment taking place. “Nobody has ever done anything like that for me before.”

“You deserve it.”

“Maybe, but I don’t deserve you.”

Your lips pursed, head shaking vehemently as you wrapped both hands around the one of his that you were holding. “You deserve everything good in the world, Stuart Twombly. I promise you that.”

Stuart was pretty sure that he had never wanted to kiss you more than he wanted to kiss you right now, but before he could work up the nerve, you were standing up, bringing yourself off a little, and taking the box of his gift and placing it back in your pocket. Throwing away the wrapping paper, you made it to his side, arms wrapping around his middle as your hands smoothed over his back, cheek on his shoulder, and he could feel your short puffs of breath against his neck, and he didn’t hesitate for even a single second to wrap you up tightly in the returning of the hug.

You remained that way for a while, letting him trace his fingers up and down your spine, until you had decided that you’d had enough. He would never get tired of it though. The way you felt in his arms and the way you would cling to him in that unique way that you did, the smell of your varying body sprays and perfumes that changed with the seasons, and your heart thudding against his chest through your own, everything that made each hug one of his favourite moments.

“Do you want me to walk you home tonight?”

“I would love that, actually.” You pulled away from him then, and he regretted speaking, but you were giving him that smile that was reserved only to be shared between the two of you when you were alone, and he’d do anything to see it, to keep it on your face, and so he was willing to let the hug go. “Let me go grab about coats.”

He only nodded, draining away what was left of your drinks and leaving the mugs upside down on the counter beside the dishwasher, ready to be cleaned and restored to the shelves before opening time tomorrow. You were already wearing your coat when you returned, holding his out to him, and as soon as he took it, your hands were buried into your pockets. He fished out his keys, a hand on your lower back as he guided you towards the door, letting you turn off all the fairy lights and main lamps, the building closing down into darkness.

As the door was pulled open, cold air swept in, a groan on your lips as you exited into the icy chill, snow crunching under your feet as you went, leaving your marks in the pristine covering, shuddering a little as you did. He locked up, hearing you kicking at piles of snow absentmindedly behind him, before the building was all locked up and the shutters were pulled down, locking the building up tight to be protected for another night. Then, he was pulling up his hood, protecting himself against the cold weather, and falling into step beside you on the way he was accustomed to walking in the direction of your apartment.

You didn’t have a hood, and he patted down his pockets, finding the item he was looking for, and bringing it up to place on your head, hands smoothing over your hair as the garment was adjusted, before deciding he was happy with the way it looked.

“You had your beanie with you the whole time, today?”

“I always have my beanie with me.” He teased, reaching a hand into your pocket boldly, and lacing cold fingers with your warm ones, feeling you squeeze back and hold onto him tightly. His other hand was tucked into his own pocket, and he had to bite at the inside of his cheek just to be able to contain his smile.

“Well, why didn’t you wear it? You needed it, today of all days.” He huffed a little at your teasing, in reference to the fall he had taken hours ago.

“I don’t know, I just wanted to be different today, I guess.”

“Well, you don’t need to be different. I happen to adore you just the way you are.” He didn’t bother to reply, simply twisting his head to press a kiss to your temple, before a simple silence was taking up around you both. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to be in a comfortable kind of quiet, whether you were physically together or on the phone, or a video call, it was just a norm. Sometimes, when he had college work to do, he’d ring you, and let you go about everything you were doing at home, just to have some company. Sometimes, when your anxiety was getting the better of you and you’d feel a little overwhelmed, you’d call him, and he’d talk to you about anything and everything he could think of until you fell asleep, or felt better.

It was just the way the two of you operated, another way in which the pair of you created a perfect balance and harmony together.

It was a short walk, and only a few lights in your building were still lit up, but he knew that most of your neighbours were older couples, but that you’d chosen that purposefully, for a more peaceful place to live. When he reached the bottom of the steps you were cautious to stand in the spots where snow had been cleared and salt laid down, the centres of the steps, as you climbed up onto the first one. You were taller than him by a few inches now, and he was looking up at you, your hands moving to rest on his shoulders.

“Thanks for walking me, Stuart.” He could only nod, swallowing thickly, and trying to gain some confidence. Today had been the best day yet that the two of you had spent together, it had all been one, long, ‘moment’ between you both. Uninterrupted and without anything to shatter it, he’d loved every moment, and he didn’t want to let his chance slip away as a new day threatened to wipe the slate clean. “Out with it, Twombly. What’s going through that brilliant head of yours?”

“Just, that today was amazing. With you, it was incredible.”

“I had a great day too, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, and he laughed lightly, watching as your eyes twinkled with your own amusement.

“I know, it’s just that I had such a good day I don’t want it to end. But, I never want days with you to end.” He could feel fear taking over, logic about knowing you must feel the same way flying out of the window, and he felt like a teenager again, trying to ask the popular girl to be his date to the latest school dance. “I felt like there was something special today, though. When you were looking after me after I bumped my head, before a customer came in.”

He took a deep breath, watching the way your lips flicked up at the sides, and he scowled a little, now knowing that you knew exactly what he was talking about, and forcing him to say it anyway.

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

“Maybe I do.” You teased, and he grumbled a little under his breath, but he could never really be angry with you for your teases, not when you looked so cute while doing so.

“I just think that me and you have something special, and I’d hate myself if I didn’t say anything when I had the chance, if some other schmuck came in and swept you up before I had the chance to tell you how I really f-” He was shocked, a gasp on his lips as he felt you push into him. Your hands had moved from his shoulders to rest lightly on his neck, heart racing under your palms and as he realised that you were kissing him, a soft moan bubbled up from within him.

When he finally managed to wrap his head around what was going on, he lifted one hand up to place over your cheek, pressing back into you enthusiastically, and the other settled on your waist. Underneath your coat, his fingers flexed against your waist, pulling you closer and letting you step back down to his height as your chest came flush up with his. It was slow, the drag of your lips over his, soft and short kisses that were pressed in between soft sighs and smiles, gasps for breath before you were diving into each other once again.

He let his tongue poke out, needing more from you as he found himself beginning to drown in the taste of your mouth, and the way it felt to finally indulge in what he’d been wanting for so long, and he needed more. He traced the seam of your lips, and you parted them for him almost instantly, dipping your own tongue out to play with his own, and it felt like an entirely new high. Dragging together, tangling, playing as you learned one another’s mouths, got to know each other in a whole new and more intimate way than ever before, and he was sure his head was spinning.

He needed breath, desperately, but he wasn’t ready to pull back just yet, and then you did, a whine sliding form him as he puckered his lips and chased after you in a way that he really should have been embarrassed about, but couldn't find it to do so. You had swollen and shining lips, hair slightly messy from the hand of his own that had slid into the locks, and you were flushed, panting a little for breath as you stared up at him through darkened but widened eyes.

“That might be the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

He grinned, dragging the tip of his nose against your own, and stealing a few more quick kisses from your lips, looking down at you once again as you found yourself standing on the ground alongside him. You were tugged into him close enough that he could feel your heart beating against his own, just as fast and unsteady, showing him that you felt the same way he did, and that he affected you just as you affected him.

“You taste like gingerbread.”

He smirked a little, something like a giggle and sigh leaving you as you nodded your head, shrugging slightly before running your hands back down his arms to take his hands in your own. With foreheads pressed together, you pecked his lips once more, and Stuart swore this was what heaven felt like. “Well, you did make me a gingerbread spiced coffee before we left the shop.”

“They are your favourite, you have a ton of them every winter, I knew you’d like one.”

“I didn’t know you noticed that.” You smiled, and he brushed a thumb over your cheek, tipping your head back to catch his eye.

“I’ve had a thing for you for quite a while, I just never knew what to do about it, and you were in a relationship, so I was left learning stupid little endearing facts about you.” He grinned, and you gasped, shoving him a little while never letting go of his hand.

“Stuart, I’ve been flirting with you constantly for like eight months. You never made a move!”

“I just made a move!”

You only laughed more, pursed lips as you stared at him. “Nope! Pretty sure I’m the one who kissed you, actually.”

He could only roll his eyes and smile, nodding his head and leaning back in. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He closed the gap, another sweet and tender kiss being shared between you both. Sensual and soft, he decided that if he could live in this exact moment forever, he’d be more than happy with that, kissing the Christmassy reminiscent taste from your lips as you held onto him so tightly.

When you finally pulled away, you were walking backwards up the steps, tugging him with you a little, and offering him a coy smirk. “Wanna’ come up for a Christmas spiced nightcap?”

He let out a loud laugh at that, louder than he should have when all the downstairs lights were turned off, but he couldn't help it, following you up the steps and weaving your fingers together properly. “Can’t imagine anything better.”

“I’ll tell you all about your internship when we get up there.” You were patting down your pockets, finding your keys and making sure to lock the main door building carefully behind yourself, and he trailed after you, as quietly as possible.

“I can’t wait.”

#stuart twombly #stuart twombly x reader #stuart twombly x reader smut #stuart twombly/reader #stuart twombly/reader smut #stuart twombly the internship #dylan obrien x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien the internship #dylan obrien stuart twombly #12 Days of AUmas

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anonsservice · 4 years ago

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Just text me!

Prompt: Jade doesn't like talking on the phone, but Reader always calls her instead of texting. Reader admits that it's because they want to hear Jade's voice. | or: Two times reader got away with calling instead of texting, and one time they didn't. | Jade x Gender-Neutral!Reader |

-ONE-

Jade hated lots of things, wet door-nobs (but then again, who likes them?), ducks, and this list could go on but then it would take hours to read. And one of the things she hated most was talking on the phone. She never understood why anybody would want to talk on the phone when you would just type and not have to listen to anybody's annoying voice. Hence why she only answered the phone 5% of the time and hung up the rest of the time. By now everybody had gotten the memo to stop calling her, and they did. Only calling when it was an emergency. Everybody but you understood this unsaid contract. You always opted to call her rather than text her, and nine times out of ten she always answered, because anytime she didn't you'd send her voice memos of you pleading for her to answer. She was always rendered powerless to you when you sounded just so sad.

Now was one of those nines times. Jade had been reading 'Animal Farm' by George Orwell when you called. She groaned and went to press the little red button until she saw your face in the contact picture. Her thumb quickly switched course and she immediately pressed the green one instead.

"Hi~ Jade!"

"Y/N."

"So I just saw the cutes-" She cut you off.

"No! Do not start about a cute dog again!"

"But it's just so cute! the owner said his name was Mr.Doodles! Mr.Doodles!"

"This was just something you could've texted me you know." Your line went quiet for a moment before she started again.

"Why do you always call me? I think I've only ever gotten texts from you when we were in class."

"...What's wrong with me calling you huh!? You meanie!"

"I'm not mean! Don't lie you liar!"

"If I'm a liar you're a meanie!"

"I'm no- Hold on. Don't do this."

Whenever you wanted to get away with something you just went off on a tangent and distracted her until she forgot what she was even talking about in the first place.

"Do what?" Your tone was almost sweet and almost innocent. Almost.

"Forget it, but next time you see a stupid dog with an even stupider name, just text me."

You hummed in response and she hung up the phone.

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

-TWO-

You always found a way to bypass Jade's no calling rule. You always made sure to curve her questions so that you'd never be lying but not exactly telling the truth. It wasn't like Jade ever truly hated your calls. She did, of course, hate everybody else's but when your number popped up on her screen she'd answer always. She loved your weird squeals, snorts, and giggles you made when the two of you were talking. Everything you did was cute to her. But after a while, she got suspicious of you. The way you'd always call her over the smallest things. As if looking for any reason at all to call her. The way whenever she asked you to just text her you never directly said 'yes' or any time she asked about your calling addiction you just changed the subject.

Right now you had just noticed a bunny hopping along through the long stretch of grass of which you were walking along. You'd often take an afternoon to just wander this 'park' that was really just grass, trees, flowers, and animals. Few children were ever spotted there but you and a few others were frequent visitors. Your favorite thing to do there was just sitting on one of the many benches and watching for any and all animals. One of the animals being bunnies. Animals of which happen to be your newest reason to call a certain loud-mouthed-dark-haired girl.

It only took two rings before her voice came from the phone's speaker.

"Y/N! Again? What is it this time?"

"Bunny!"

Jade grumbled about you wasting her time but you just went on about the small animal you'd noticed. You didn't talk for very long as there wasn't much about the animal to describe. It was fairly small, grey with some brown patches, beady black eyes, ears that stook up toward the sky, and two long front teeth.

"I will ask again, why did you call me for this?"

"Because the bunny was so super cute and you needed to hear about it!"

"Needed, did I?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Then why didn't you just text me."

"What's that Jade?" You started to blow into the mic of the phone.

"You're breaking up! Call you later!"

You stuffed your phone back into your jacket pocket and started the longish walk back to your car.

-THREE-

This time you called her when you were in the supermarket, getting snacks for you and Jade's monthly movie marathon. You two got together monthly to watch movies all night and spend the day together the day after, every last Saturday and Sunday of every month. It started when Jade's parents went on another business trip for the weekend and she had gotten lonely and invited you over for the weekend. Though she would never admit to being lonely, you knew. Anyway, you each took turns buying the snacks. Last time Jade bought them so now it was your turn. And at the moment you were trying to decide between strawberry pocky or cookies and cream. It took you a minute but you ended up deciding to call Jade and ask which one to get.

And, in true whipped sapphic nature she answered almost as soon as you called.

"What!"

"hi, love."

It took a minute but she mumbled a 'hi' in return.

"Should i get strawberry or cookies and cream pocky?"

"Really, Y/N?"

"hm?"

"You call me.. over Pocky?!"

You pouted, even though you knew she couldn't see you.

"Mhm! Now tell me!"

"You could've tex-"

"I know I know I could've texted you, but I didn't, so tell me now which one to get!"

"If you know to text me, then why, why, do you always call?"

"because i- forget it, ill just get Oreos."

You pulled the phone away and went to press 'hang up' but a 'wait!' coming from the small box stopped you. You pressed the phone up to your cheek once more.

"Hm?"

"Get the strawberry ones."

"Okay! Bye-bye, love you!"

you hung up before she could say it back.

--------

It was an hour after the whole pocky incident and you were now on your first movie of the night, which was of course, 'The scissoring'. You always started the night off with some type of horror movie, per Jade's request of course.

She was pulling out one of the four pocky boxes you had purchased.

"Y/N?"

You turned your head from the screen to her.

"Why do you always call me! And don't call me mean, or a liar, or anything! Just tell me the truth. Or I'll end this weekend early. I swear on it!"

At that, you frowned. You were on one hand embarrassed at the true reasoning behind all your calls, but you wanted to be with jade for the next twenty-four hours so you gave in almost immediately after she said that.

"Well I just," you tilted your head down and mumbled out the rest in a confusing sentence. "Ilikehearingyourvoiceandijustiguessitrytolookforanyreasontohearitagain"

"Huh? Speak slower, love. Look- I won't make fun of you, I swear."

You look up at her and nod slightly.

"I said, I call you all the time because I like hearing your voice, so I guess I kinda just started looking for any reason to call you and hear it again. I'm sorry..."

At this, she tried to bite back a smile but in the end, the smile won and she look your face into her hands.

"You don't need to say sorry, Y/N. It's kind of cute."

You smiled once more and nestled yourself in her arms after you gave her a sickeningly sweet kiss.

A/N: *me walking in after not updating for like a month or two* hey yall... how yall doin?.

No, but for real, I just started streaming and I guess it's distracted me a bunch. I took it up after my hamster died cuz I used to talk to my hamster a lot and since she was gone I needed to talk to somebody who wasn't my large stuffed animal collection. Any-who, I'll try to update more! And i wrote this at 3 am after streaming for like an hour soooooo, sorry for the fuck ups.

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years ago

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Title: Trapped.

Commission for an anonymous donor.

Paring: Yandere!Oikawa/Reader.

TW: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Non-Graphic Violence and Emotional Manipulation.

It was the closest thing you had to a hobby, honestly.

The routine wasn’t complicated, but that was what you liked about it. You’d spend a few months working on your target, getting close and goating them on until they finally gave in and did something violent. Oikawa was your masterpiece. You knew he would be, from you found him, drinking alone after an injury separated him from his oh-so-beloved volleyball for the better half of a season. He was that perfect mixture of resourceful and desperate, sorely in need of an emotional bond you knew better than to give him.

He fell into the lifestyle quickly, too. You were hardly a month in when you first woke up in his guest room, a pair of shackles around your ankles and a thick, metallic chain keeping you bound to the furthest wall. It was a dance. He broke into your apartment, and you threw yourself down the fire-escape to get away. Oikawa cornered you outside your favorite club, and you screamed so loudly, even the bartender came to see if you were alright. He was dissatisfied, but you couldn’t have been more content. Not when an adrenaline rush was always waiting just around the next darkened corner.

He’d outdone himself, this time. There were no ugly, jagged edges or tools left lying around in the shape of luxuries, no, his basement had been stripped down to its essentials. When you woke up, you found little more than empty walls and a bare mattress, the plush surface serving as a consolation prize for the realization that Oikawa could no longer trust you with bedsheets. It didn’t matter, though. You didn’t care if he trusted you, not when your heart was beating faster and your pulse was beginning to race in your ears, that familiar sense of dread beginning to form a gnawing, tightening knot in the pit of your stomach. The kind that made it impossible to think. The kind that made you want to run and hide and submit, if only by reflex.

But, you didn’t. You steeled yourself and took a deep breath, and that was where the power came from. You weren’t powerless. You weren’t helpless. You were just as capable as everyone else, even with the odds stacked against you.

Without thinking, you felt along your side, probing the fabric of your shirt for something more solid than cloth. Near the hem, you went to work tearing through the flimsy material for the prize hidden beneath - a rectangular razor blade, the type you’d stitched into a concealed pocket on every article of clothing you owned. It was easy enough to free the object, using the sharpened edge to cut the blade free before properly investigating Oikawa’s newest toy. He’d done away with his usual chains and cuffs, and instead, a braided cord linked the thick, steel collar around your neck to a nearby outlet, rope fading seamlessly into cement.

It took less than three minutes to carve through a random section of the tether, a task you carried out with a meticulous, measured silence, content to let your absentee abductor believe you hadn’t yet awoken. It was a precaution you maintained as you started towards the only available exit - the basement door, a pallet of wood as thick as your forearm, and unfortunately, twice as solid. You climbed the ancient staircase as you considered how to bypass it, if Oikawa had felt thought to secure it properly. There’d been a padlock, last time, one you’d pried open with a hairpin and more frustration than you’d like to admit, and an alarm the time before that. You doubted he’d come up with anything more clever. Oikawa was persistent, but he wasn’t--

You didn’t get to finish that thought. Underneath you, a single step gave out, splitting down the middle as if someone had the forethought to nearly, nearly break it, before leaving it in place for you to find and stumble onto. It snapped under your weight, and reflexively, you stepped back, directly onto a platform that didn’t exist, much less stop you from stumbling back down to the concrete floor you were really beginning to dislike.

There was no time to brace yourself, no time to prepare, your back taking the brunt of the fall and screeching in retaliation, a steady, pounding soreness spreading down the length of your spine. You tried to take a deep breath, to check for fractures and injuries and the string of bruises you knew would appear in an hour or two, but there wasn’t time.

Not when the basement door was already opening.

You acted on instinct. You moved to push yourself up, but before you could think, Oikawa was on top of you, forcing you back down and knocking the air from your lungs. There was a flash of white across your vision, the sound of something loose and metallic rattling in a careless hand, and it was all you could do to find your voice as a new, fresh wave of pure panic washed over you, ruthless in its arrival. “Fuck,” You spat, more for yourself than your aggressor. “You’re trying something new?”

“Oh, you noticed?” He had you on your chest, now, your hands pressed against the small of you back as he straddled your waist, his resolve seemingly undeterred by your constant writhing. “There’s only so many times I can tolerate your games before I get fed up,” He explained, taking you by the throat with his free hand and shoving you downward, only stopping when your cheek was pressed against the floor. “You’re not going anywhere, and you’re not getting away. I’m done chasing you. I’m not giving up the prize I’ve earned again.”

You didn’t indulge him with a response. Instead, you took hold of the hand currently restraining yours, burrowing your nails in his wrist and rolling to the side, throwing Oikawa off balance. There was a wordless, surprised noise, a sharp intake of air, and he faltered just long enough for you to throw your weight back and push yourself to your feet. You didn’t try to keep him down, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight him with brute strength alone. Instead, you focused on sprinting towards that elusive, unreachable door, Oikawa’s footsteps following shortly after. You didn’t care. Once you were outside, you’d be safe. All you needed to do was make it that far.

You could practically taste fresh air. There was no deadbolt in sight, no lock or latch, nothing beyond the most minimalist of barriers. Your fist closed around the knob, and hastily, you pulled, eager to wallow in Oikawa’s despair, to see that scowl you doubted would ever really fade, the glare that never failed to burn holes into every patch of skin he deemed burnable. You couldn’t wait to hear him curse your name and…

And the door wasn’t opening.

It wasn’t opening.

Wirey arms wrapped around your midriff as you pulled, and pushed, and did everything you could think to do that might make the obstacle in front of you budge. Oikawa laughed, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder just as your eyes found the meager, unremarkable rotary, listing four digits in no particular order just above the door’s handle. It was simple, just a combination lock built into something you’d gotten passed hundreds of times already, and yet, you quickly found yourself frozen, unable to move.

Trapped.

Absolutely, unmistakably trapped.

“I thought it’d be a nice touch,” Oikawa teased, his voice muffled, barely audible. You wished he hadn’t said anything at all. “Something you can’t hit until it gives in, not that I don’t expect you to try.”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure you could. That’d never fazed Oikawa, though.

“I’m not letting you get away, this time.”

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tekstelart · 4 years ago

Text

“See, it really doesn't matter to me if you cum or not, you're the one who wants to. So you'll have to work for it very hard,” he inhaled a deep breath underlining the indifference in his voice, “and I don't think you're trying at all right now.”

I edited the previous version a lot because I wasn’t happy with it. Hope you’ll enjoy the new one. Ship: Viktor/Female V Contains: Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Voice Kink Word count: 3.9k Ao3

This contains spoilers for the "Path of Glory/The Sun" ending!! The ending is alternated but the spoiler is still there.

It was late, the sun has long set leaving the city in the neon lights of the signs and billboards, streets crowded with the cities night dwellers. Usually the clinic was supposed to be closed by now but an emergency had Viktor stay in late tonight, not that this was any surprise to the old Ripperdoc. This was Night City after all and if he was honest, the nights without emergencies and late shifts were the ones that worried him more. There was always some gonk who needed some patching up or an implant fixed, not that he really had much room for complaining. Having finished his work a while ago, Viktor has still not yet left the clinic, albeit for an entirely different reason than the merc who had been chewing his ear off about a malfunction in his optic implants earlier. No, Vik was sitting at his desk, tapping away on his screen to finish up a new order of cybernetics, deliberately slow if the impatient whimpering at the other end of the phone call was any indication. V's reactions forced a soft and barely audible chuckle from his throat. Her current state of impatience and desperation did interesting things to his body, the uncomfortable strain in his pants being evidence enough. V had called him after his last patient left, wanting to check in and know if he was coming over once his work was done. Not that he needed any invitation, but it was sweet of her to call just to make sure he wasn't overdoing it with his work. With her now 'running' the Afterlife and him running his clinic, time was a luxury they could not always afford, making the act of calling him a gesture he cherished deeply. How this call led to her currently working herself towards a release under his torturously slow instructions, however, he could not quite muster. Not that it mattered anyway, not with that beautiful whimpering plea of his name that just left her lips. “Vik... please...” Oh she was going to be the death of him. ______________ The noises from the city outside her window were drowned out, if not by her own uneven breathing and soft whines then it was by Viktors firm voice at the end of the line, giving her clear instructions on how and where to run her fingers along her body, when to press them down, to pinch and when to drag her nails across her skin ever so lightly, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It was the sweetest kind of torture as Vik had not yet given her permission to touch where she desperately needed it. Heat building up under her skin at every caress, every drag of her fingers, the tension almost unbearable. This was clearly not what she expected when she decided to call him earlier, between gigs and work at the Afterlife she barely found time for herself and it has been almost a week since she's last seen Vik. To say it was exhausting was an understatement, times like these she understood why the Ripperdoc gave up on being a legend. A private life was almost impossible. She was tired and desperate for a few hours of sleep but when she glimpsed into the mirror and her eyes were drawn to his necklace in her reflection she just had enough of missing his warmth and decided to give him a call. Now she was sprawled on her bed in nothing but her underwear and an old shirt clearly meant for someone bigger than her small frame, his scent faintly clung to it. V's fingers were now drawing tantalizing circles around her slit, still covered by the now soaked fabric of her underwear. Still without the okay to touch where she needed it, to relief some of the ache she was all but left panting his name softly, faintly aware of the plea that left her lips. “Didn't quite catch that kitten, gotta speak up.” His reply was hoarse and V swallowed a moan at the nickname he used, among all the names he had for her, this one was probably her favourite. She wriggled on her bed, pressing her thighs together slightly, trying to get any kind of friction. “Please let me touch myself...” Her voice was merely more than a soft mewl at this point, weak and desperate, much to Vik's delight. “You are touching yourself sweetheart, not sure I understand your request.”, he purred with that absolutely sinful voice, had anyone told her that a voice would one day make her feel the way his voice did, she would've laughed and shrugged it off as nonsense, yet here she was. His voice coursing through her body like liquid fire, pooling at her core, her cunt throbbing now. A pathetic whimper left her lips and she swallowed thickly. “You... know what I mean... ” “Oh do I?” His voice was going to be her demise. “Please...” “Kitten you know I love to hear you beg but you really gotta tell me what you want here, I'm old, can't read your mind y'know.”, it was a challenge, one that left V panting his name in a breathy moan. He knew exactly what she wanted but of course he would not make it easy for her. Ass. Viktor seemed to take some pity on her because the next thing she knew was the change of his tone, now cooing her with a fabricated softness. “What a poor girl you are huh, how about you stop with the slow circles then. I want you to really touch yourself now. I honestly don't care how, just do what works for you, get yourself nice and close to the edge and tell me when you're there.” She did not need to be told twice, her fingers now moving past the drenched fabric of her panties to rub circles into her clit. She was embarassingly close from all his teasing alone so when she moved her hand to push two fingers inside her she could already feel the coil in her stomach tensing. “You're close, aren't you sweetheart?”, Viks sounded more winded than just a couple of minutes before, clearly not unaffected by their game. The thought of her obeying his every command, of V completely at his mercy, if his pants hadn't been uncomfortable before, they certainly were now. V whimpered a quiet yes, the coil tightening closer and closer, ready to snap at any second. She inhaled a sharp breath, about to tumble over the edge, in what promised to be an intense orgasm, “Now stop.” With a frustrated whine V removed her hand from her aching cunt, stifling another groan at the sudden loss of friction and the almost-orgasm that was already fading back into nothing. “Listen to me, darling, this is very important.”, the control in Viktors voice was back, despite him talking down to her like that, V couldn't help the shiver that crawled down her spine and fueled the fire in her core. “What I want you do now is continue your work. Get really into it. But you will not cum. You'll keep yourself right on that edge until I'm with you and tell you otherwise. Think you can do that for me?” His voice was overcoming her in an inferno, lulling her into absolute obedience as she swallowed another moan. They may have had similar games before, he may have denied her orgasms before but never to this extend. No, the other times it was mere teasing, dragging it out for her mostly so they could climax together. Besides, Vik knew that a bit of edging made the orgasm so much more intense for her. This time he seemed content on testing just how far he could push her limits. With the sense of security coming from the safeword they've agreed on very early into their relationship Vik seemed to enjoy pushing V's boundaries just to see how much it would take to get her to yield. The feeling of having Night Cities best damn merc, this powerful woman who's easily crushed men his size before, fully at his mercy, obedient and begging for him was more of a turn on than Vik cared to admit. The quiet “Yes” left V's lips in a shaky breath, struggling to keep her voice even. “Good girl.”, the way he purred this particular nickname was borderline sinful and the only response she got before she heard the rustling of his clothes as he undoubtedly got up from his chair and left his clinic, now making his way to her apartment. She half expected him to hang up the call so his low voice took her by surprise when he growled softly, “Can't hear you. What are you waiting for?” Without further encouragement she continued her ministrations though she worked herself slower now, not wanting to reach that edge too quickly again. That was until she could hear the dissapointment dripping from the sigh that just left Viks lips. “Sweetheart I don't think you're really trying here.”, his voice was firm but low, hushed even, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention from bypassers likely. A pathetic whimper from V as she brushed her fingers over her aching clit. “See, it really doesn't matter to me if you cum or not, you're the one who wants to. So you'll have to work for it very hard,” he inhaled a deep breath underlining the indifference in his voice, “and I don't think you're trying at all right now.” With a frustrated groan V applied more pressure feeling herself getting closer to the edge again, that familiar coil in her stomach tightening while moans of Viks name left her lips like a prayer. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, set ablaze by the sinful coaxing of Viktors voice, guiding her every move. She felt this raw want, need, and she knew that this need was not just for her release but for him. It was music to his ears really, part of him urging him to hurry up and watch her come undone beneath his body while screaming his name but she was not yet where he wanted her to be. Whether or not she was aware how much this was testing his self control, he didn't know. But it took everything to keep his composure, to continue playing his role and not just rush to her place and bury himself deep inside her. A week without her close to him and he felt how every inch of his skin craved her with such ferocity that he feared he might not be able to hold onto his control for much longer. Of course she would not object if he gave in, but this game was as much for her benefit as it was for his. He wanted to drag this out, the rare moments they had together, he wanted to savor them. After everything that went down with the Biochip, that moment of sheer and raw panic when he heard the shot that night she almost flatlined and Johnny dragged her into his clinic and his entire world froze. When the elevator door opened and she was standing in front of him, still alive, gun in hand, ready to march down Arasaka and take her life back... This woman has seen more shit than most of Night City and she was still kicking. There was nothing else he could do other than admire her raw will to live, her determination. She was a force of nature. And she was his. He was the one currently heading towards her place, his name was the one still hanging on her lips like a silent song. The thought filled him with so much desire that he had to focus on slowing down his steps. A bright neon sign catching his attention. “Maybe we should check out this place sometime, looks like they got some nice stuff”, with a low chuckle he halted in front of a store, deciding to ignore V's groan of protest. His alone and he knew exactly how to play her. “Viktor... pleaseee”, whether she intentionally dragged out the words or she was just too far gone, he couldn't tell but he smiled at her reaction regardless. The way his full name rolled from her lips shot straight to his cock. “Please what, sweetheart?” Oh his tone was absolute agony now. Feigned sweetness coaxing his every word. He was straight up driving her mad. “Hurry up please...”, between her rasped moans and whimpers it became increasingly difficult to form coherent sentences, much to the Ripperdocs amusement. “Why the rush doll?”, he didn't bother hiding his amusement as he continued walking down the road towards her apartment building. It wasn't far from his clinic so he took every opportunity to drag things out a bit further. “Want to... cum”, V managed between sharp breaths, she's certainly not been on the edge for this long before, now alternating her ministrations between getting her right onto the edge and slowing down enough to not stumble over it. It was blissful torment. It still became an increasingly difficult and agonizing task and with her next whimper as she slowed down enough to stop herself from reaching her peak, all she heard was Viktors deep laugh for a second. “Aww poor poor girl, is the big man being mean to you and not letting you finish?” V hated him in the best possible way for the patronizing tone he was using on her, if alone for the fact that it just pushed her closer towards tipping over. Before she could reply however his chuckling stopped and he continued, “Oh that's right, I don't fuckin' care. You're here for my amusement.” The merc whined in response, at this point she had to remove her hands from her body fully, she was certain a single breath would be her end now. As much as Viktor enjoyed the torment, his impatience was growing and his pants were unbearably tight at that point, he was lucky enough that the bulge was barely obvious. Or the bypassers were just too busy with their own world to really notice. Either way, he was growing feverish for her skin on his, her cunt wrapped tightly around him. Once he arrived at the Megabuilding and stepped into the elevator his tone shifted ever so slightly. “What a good, obedient girl you're being. Think you deserve to cum?”, his words were still teasing but coaxed with a level of fondness that made her heart melt as much as it set fire to her entire body and she clutched he thighs together at the sensation. “Yes please”, she whispered into her phone. “God you sound so perfect like this, so desperate to cum for me like a good little girl.” “Please.. Viktor please”, the words coming out in a pathetic whine. “Patience darling, just stay right on the edge, you're doing so well.”, Vik knew that she needed the encouragement now, he could tell that she was close to her limit. The elevator came to a stop at her level. Viktor no longer wasted any time and took quick long strides towards her apartment. Once he finally arrived at her apartment he had to bite back a groan at the sight that he was greeted with. V was draped across her bed, shirt rolled up revealing most of her stomach and her panties discarded likely a while ago. Her head was tossed back and she was biting her bottom lip hard, thin sheen of sweat glistening in the neon light from outside her window. Her hands were gripping the sheets next to her thighs which she was currently pressing together hard. Vik was not sure what he was expecting but the image beat everything he could've imagined, sending another sharp pang down his cock and he had to adjust his pants just enough to stop the strain for the moment. “Now that's a sight to behold...”, he started teasingly, every intention of going at a slow pace thrown out the window the moment her eyes opened and met his, pupils blown with unhinged desire, bottom lip still sucked between her teeth, her expression a silent plea for mercy. “Fuck...” Whatever it was he wanted to say, it was now stuck in his throat, low groan all he could muster before quickly discarding his own clothes and leaning down on the bed, arms on either side of her head, to capture her lips in a heated and sloppy kiss. He barely wasted any time before trailing his lips down her neck, biting down onto that sensitive spot at the same time he grabbed her knees to wrap her legs around his waist. V had her arms wrapped around his shoulder tighly and when he ground his hips into her, dragging his length deliciously slow along her soaked folds, she dug ner nails into his skin and deep growl rumbled in Viks chest. Feeling his length pressed against her slit after the delicious torture she endured was pure gasoline thrown into the fire of her craving body. Unwilling to wait any longer Vik mumbled something about how wet and perfect she was for him before positioning his tip at her entrance and slowly pushing himself into the silky wetness between her thighs. The stretch was heavenly and with her being absolutely drenched from their game, she didn't need any time to adjust to his size, instead he started at a slow and steady pace, giving long and hard thrusts. Capturing her lips again, tongue tracing her bottom lip before she granted him access. His movements were slow, calculated, but hard, snapping his hips forward with a force that reminded V of his former boxer career. His left arm coming down under her waist, lifting her up ever so slightly, the new angle making him hit that spot deep inside that sent sparks through her entire body. V eventually broke the kiss to gasp for air, Viks face now buried in her shoulder, deep growls rumbling in his chest. He held her so tightly and she clung to him just as much, the emotions running through her, she could feel his heartbeat and every last bit of tension from her daily life, every fear, every uncertainty faded into nothing. She was not only feeling her own pleasure, she was feeling his, it made her heart hammer in her chest. How did she ever get so lucky? Out of all the people in Night City this man had chosen her, a kid from the street merely trying to survive, she may have reached the top but she knew that she would have never gotten this far without him. A sharp bite on her neck pulled her out of her thoughts and she could feel his lips move when he spoke onto her skin “Stop thinkin' so goddamn much.” Vik had her moaning his name again with a particular hard thrust. “Better.” His movements quickened and before long he was slamming into her with a brutal pace. “Vik I can't hold-”, V cried out unable to finish her sentece, she was so close to her climax, she desperately wanted to cum and just when it seemed like he would let her, he halted his movements entirely. V whined in protest, head thrown back into the pillows and eyes shut, she bucked her hips for any kind of friction but Viktors hands held her hips in place and with a smirk he leaned in to trace his lips along her neck again, he could feel her pulse racing. “You're doing so well kitten, come on, beg for it.” He continued his movements, slowly at first, dragging his full length out before slamming back in, hitting that perfect spot that made her cry out his name. “You can do better, come on, let me hear you”, he continued mumbling into her neck, getting close to his own release while he increased his pace, no longer holding back from slamming into her with a force that almost knocked the air out of her lungs. V no longer having any reservations about her volume, chanted his name with strings of “please” like a prayer, neighbors be damned, let them hear whos doing this to her, hear who she belongs to. Her nails digging into his back hard enough to leave bloody trails, not that he seemed to mind, if anything it just goaded him on as a sharp hiss left his lips. Another bite to her neck, sure to leave a mark, and he grabbed her face. “Look at me.” V struggled to keep her eyes open. “Look. At. Me.” Viktor briefly slowed down his movement enough so V could open her eyes and look at him. Whatever people saw in her in the streets, this view was his and his alone, pupils blown wide with lust and pure longing, longing not only for release but all of him, he wished he could save this image forever. “Good girl”, he smirked at her before picking up his pace again. “You ready to cum with me?” V just nodded. “Use your words sweetheart”, despite the command, his voice was soft, tender, his thumb tracing along her cheek. “Yes, please”, was all she managed to gasp before he moved his hand to the back of her head, grasping her hair in a tight grip. “Then cum for me.” With a shout of his name the coil finally snapped and her orgasm crashed over her in an inferno, ever nerve of her body on fire as she rode out the most intense climax she's ever had. His name clung to her lips and she felt herself clenching down on Viks cock tightly. That was all it took for him to follow her, with a loud groan of her full name he thrust into her a few more times, spilling his release deep inside her Coming down from their high together they stayed in place like this for a while, catching their breaths before Vik leaned down to press a soft kiss to V's forehead. “Good girl, you did so well.” A kiss on her lips, slow and thoroughly to come down from their high. Pouring their emotions into each other. V wished she could just stay like this forever. No responsibilities, no clients waiting for her, just this. Content. Peaceful. When Vik broke the kiss he cupped her cheek with his right hand, looking at her like she was the only damn thing that mattered in this world. It made her heart ache. “I love you”, he whispered, breath tickling her lips. Her heart now felt like it was going to leap out of her chest and all she could muster was a smile as she leaned up to capture his lips with her own. Nothing else mattered in that moment, not the noise and crowds of the city outside her apartment, not her clients, not the Afterlife or even her role in it. It all faded into the background. Everything she wanted, needed, was here. This felt like home, he felt like home, and she finally understood.

#cyberpunk 2077 #viktor vector #viktor vector x v #viktor vector/v #Viktor/V #v #smut #with a bit of fluff #I tried ok #akldsjhgjhgsdg #Veena Reyes #my writing

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cheri-translates · 5 years ago

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[CN] Lucien’s R&S - Regarding what books don’t say (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (关于书上没说的事) was part of the Dream Heart Lake event which will unlikely come to EN!🍒

A character featured in @lucienism‘s translation of his 2020 birthday event is introduced here!

More Lucien R&S from this event:

> regarding what books don’t say ♡

> my love rival older brother

> the victim who disappeared

> since that rainy night

[ Chapter One ]

Everybody knows that there’s an especially intelligent child in the neighbourhood.

His parents are both high-ranking scientific researchers. Although husband and wife have always kept a low-profile, quite a lot of rumours involving their child still flowed into the streets - He knew over ten thousand words at the age of one, read “The Brief History of Time” at the age of three, and could already engage in scientific research with his parents at the age of five.

As for how much of it is true or false, the neighbours didn’t delve too deeply into it. They just needed “someone else’s child” as an example to enhance the persuasive effect when dealing with their own children. “Brat, could you stop making me worry! Just look at that little genius next door. He already knows how to read books obediently at the age of five!”

As time passed, the children developed a strong resistance towards this little genius who rarely showed himself.

Unlike what their parents hoped, they didn’t see him as a role model for studying. Instead, they chose the naive and cruel method to express their unhappiness which had accumulated over the years.

[ Chapter Two ]

To the children, “isolation” is an extreme punishment. However, this didn’t have much of an effect on the little genius. He has always holed himself up in the study room, immersing himself in scientific materials which even normal adults find cryptic and difficult to understand. After classes in the afternoon, he would occasionally hear the clamour of playing, and would close his book temporarily, laying on the window sill to take a look.

He can easily explain how the human mind operates, but is unable to understand why the boys in the yard enjoy running after a ball. Each time he sees them running themselves into a sweat-drenched state and yet able to laugh heartily, he remains puzzled despite pondering over it for a long time.

Although he has considered directly asking the children in the yard for their reasons, he can detect the alienation in their eyes even from afar.

It’s as though they are magnets with the same poles. Even if he tried taking a step closer to them, they would naturally take a step further. This caused him to gradually feel that even though he was a human being like them, there were also some slight differences.

Since he couldn’t quell his bewilderment through a survey sample, he had no choice but to have a hands-on experience. As such, he, who rarely brings up wanting anything, asked his father for a small soccer ball.

Seeing his son take the initiative to ask for a toy for the first time, his father agreed immediately. He even completed his work on hand early, and specially took a half-day leave to accompany his son to play in the grass patch in the park.

In the midst of the pleasantly warm summer breeze, father and son have a few exchanges. However, aside from “hot” and “tired”, the boy didn’t obtain more helpful information.

He lifts up the strands of hair on his forehead, which have been drenched with sweat He trots over to his father’s side, tugging onto his sleeve.

“Dad, are you tired? Why don’t we go home?”

His father crouches down, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his son’s sweat, thinking he was saying he was tired because he typically lacks exercise.

“Mm? Are you tired? In that case, should we take a break before continuing?”

The boy shakes his head, returning the small soccer ball to his father.

“Dad, is this the wrong playing method? Why do other kids look especially happy when they play this?”

In response to his son’s dead serious question, his extremely knowledgeable father actually couldn’t find an answer.

Because of how busy work is at the research centre, he and his wife are mostly able to only meet their son’s material needs. Giving him necessary company completely exhausts their limited free time.

Those books don’t mention the things they don’t have time to teach him. The things that are crucial for “normal kids” have been neglected without realising it--

For instance, “friends”. For instance, “friendship”.

“The next time you want to play with the little soccer ball, you can bring it up to the kids in yard.”

“Mm.” The boy nods, not telling his father about the icy look in the eyes of the other kids. He holds his dad’s hand tightly, and they return to the yard.

[ Chapter Three ]

That brand new little soccer ball never appeared again since that day, and nobody knew where he hid it. Even so, every time after school ended, he would still gaze towards the clamour occasionally.

Sometimes, the little soccer ball belonging to the kids would fall into the courtyard of his home. But every time he returned the little soccer ball to them, the kids would turn around and run away without even a word of thanks.

The boy didn’t harbour much unhappiness towards the way the kids treated him, but didn’t expect that a “busybody” neighbour would seek justice on his behalf.

“Hey, you guys! You don’t know how to say ‘thank you’?!” A tall and towering neighbour appears before the kids, looking as though he’s about to chase them down. While calling him “Stupid Policeman”, they scatter.

With sharp eyes and agile movements, he grabs the kid who took the ball. Grabbing him by the collar, he brings the kid to the boy. “Okay. Where’s the ‘thank you’?”

The kid who was grabbed unwillingly says a ‘thank you’. The boy, face expressionless, responds with a “You’re welcome”.

Without sensing anything out of the ordinary, the man releases his hold the kid. Even without taking a few steps, he turns around to pull his face into a mocking scowl.

“Stupid Police Uncle, he’s scowling at you.” Upon hearing this, the man chases him once again. Seeing the kid fleeing in fear, the little genius actually feels like his pent-up feelings have been released.

After the kids run out of the yard, the man returns. He shouts after the boy who is just about to walk into the house. “Hey, Boy! You don’t have anyone to play with? Want to come over to my house to play?”

“No need. Thank you, Uncle.” With this straightforward response, the boy returns into the house. With a remark reminiscent of a human trafficker, he decides that he should not entangle himself too much with this adult.

Ignoring the rejection, the man crosses the fence, stopping the closing door with his hands. “Brother is very good at playing games! Anything you want to play is fine. If you want to learn anything, I’ll teach you till you know it. I’ll keep you company!”

“Uncle, there’s really no need.” The boy hides behind the half-closed door. This is the first time he's met an adult who is so difficult to shake off.

“Come to think of it! You’ve been calling me ‘Uncle’ since just now!” He rubs his head in an exaggerated manner, the main point of his words digressing to strange places. “Do I look that old! Just call me “Brother”. Come, repeat after me. “Brother Zihang’.”

“... Brother Zihang.”

“That’s right, that’s it! Remember it!”

“Okay, Brother Zihang. I’ve remembered it, Brother Zihang. May I know if I could close the door now, Brother Zihang?”

"You won’t be able to grow tall if you keep holing yourself up at home!”

Hearing this, the boy finally wavers. He releases his hold on the door slightly. “In that case, we’ll just play one round of international chess.”

“Can’t you play something more suitable for kids?!” Despite what Fan Zihang says, he elatedly brings the boy towards his house next door.

[ Chapter Four ]

This is the first time the boy has been invited to someone else’s home. Although he wanted to pretend that it wasn’t something new, his wandering gaze had already betrayed him--

Although there’s a huge difference between the entranceway and decor of the living room as compared to his house, the overall getup is still similar. The most shocking thing to him is Fan Zihang’s room. It’s basically a disaster scene left behind after a dinosaur stepped on it.

Fan Zihang doesn’t seem to mind at all. With a normal expression, he steps through the piles of various objects on the floor, towards the side of the bed. Sticking his butt in the air, he searches underneath the bed.

“First things first. Even if my opponent is a kid, I'm not going to give any chances. Also, if you’ve finished looking around, give me a hand in searching for it.”

The boy stands on his tiptoes, bypassing the scattered objects. With a face full of curiosity, he asks, “Do you really have a chess board here? Actually, I could head home to get it.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m certain it’s here!” Fan Zihang says in a completely unpersuasive manner. He searches the bottom of his bed, which appears to be a black hole. Seeing his persistence, the boy has no choice but to provide assistance from the side, helping him tidy up the pile of items which have been unearthed.

After a very long time, Fan Zihang finally finds the chess board. As excited as a child, he exclaims, “I’ve found it!”

His cry is accompanied by the sound of his head banging against the board of the bed. Covering his head, he crawls out from underneath the bed with the chess board. In the process of arranging the chess pieces, they discover that the black king chess piece has disappeared.

“I’ll go home and get mine.”

Just as the boy prepares to stand up, the not-like-an-adult-at-all neighbour stops him. He opens a box of small bear biscuits. Picking a whole one, he places it on the position where the black king is supposed to be. “With this, it’d be fine!”

This is probably the most abnormal chess piece the boy has ever seen. In less than ten minutes, he wins this game of “Small Bear International Chess”.

“Oh my goodness! You’re too strong! No wonder nobody wants to play with you!” Fan Zihang plops the “black king”, which the boy was about to checkmate, into his mouth. As though he’s taking revenge, he munches it with force.

“So why did Big Brother want to play with me?” The boy looks at the neighbour, who is propping his leg up without a care about his image. At the same time, he starts packing up the chess pieces.

He taps the boy’s temple, stuffing a small bear biscuit into his hand. “Because you looked too pitiful just now. When you were standing at the door earlier, you looked like you were about to cry.”

“I... I wasn’t...” His tone evidently weakens. Originally staring straight at the other party, he slowly averts his gaze. At a glance, it’s clear that he’s pretending to be courageous.

Fan Zihang didn’t expect that this kid, who appears so gentle and quiet, to have a pretty stubborn streak. He can’t help but be mischievous. He leans in front of the boy. “If you play another round with me, I won’t tell others that you were about to cry!”

“I already said that I wasn’t crying!”

Although that’s what the boy argues, he has been goaded successfully. He takes out a small bear biscuit and places it on the black king’s position, the calm little adult image completely tossed to the back of his mind.

“Very good, very good. You’ve got a fighting spirit. This time, I won’t show any mercy either.” Seeing that the boy has regained his vigour, Fan Zihang feels gratified, patting his head.

“You’re obviously very weak.”

The boy takes the lead with a white chess piece, ridiculing him unreservedly.

“This is an average standard, okay! You’re obviously the one who’s too strong! Kids like you would have been brought to take part in ‘The World’s Greatest Mind’!”

While joking, Fan Zihang also follows closely behind. His style of chess is free and laid-back. Or rather, he does it recklessly.

“You’ll be checkmated very quickly again like this.”

“So what? It’s chess - being happy is what’s most important!”

A cool breeze blows by slowly. The clamour outside the windows remain. But between the two of them, there seems to be the occasional sound of descending chess pieces, mixed with the sounds of scattered munching.

[ Chapter Five ]

Since that day, the genius boy became a regular visitor of the house of that Stupid Police Officer.

Fan Zihang continued getting off work early each day, and would bring the neighbouring boy along before heading home. His mother would sometimes criticise him for playing with a little kid at his age. But she’s extremely affable towards the boy, and would leave a serving of whatever delicious dim sum there is for him.

They would sit together and eat the dim sum, play games, and be pretty friendly with each other. No matter what the topic starts with, their conversation would always return to the same conclusion.

“Just look at yourself. Loafing around at this age.”

“Mum, it’s a good thing that my position is idle! It proves that there’s justice in the world, and that the civilians are safe.”

Aunt Liu doesn’t listen to such glib words. The more he says such things, the more worried she gets. With such a silly son, she’s worried that even by the time she gets old, he wouldn’t be able to settle down and form a good family.

Evident from the facts, Murphy’s Law does exist. The more worried a person is about something, the more it will happen.

Take for example, this particular evening. Fan Zihang, reeking of alcohol, walks into the residential area. His eyes are red, and one can’t tell if it’s due to crying or from being drunk.

Just a few hours earlier, he received a text during work from a girl he had been dating for several years. The contents of the message were brief and to the point - she wanted to break up with him. He was so frantic that he kept making calls, but even till his phone shut off from a lack of battery, he couldn’t contact the girlfriend who had suddenly bid him farewell.

Intoxicated, he supports himself on the wall and walks forward. Because he can’t find his keys, he starts pressing on the doorbell frenetically.

After a consecutive stream of ringing from the doorbell, the door finally opens.

The person who comes out is a boy whose face is full of distaste.

“Hm? Why is it you?” Only now does Fan Zihang realise that he had walked to the wrong door. He decides to give up on himself, squatting down and giving him a hug. With snot and tears running down his face, he relates his own tale of tragedy. “Boy, what do you think! Brother is so tall and handsome. Why would he get dumped!”

The boy is about to faint from the smell of alcohol. Even though he pushes and beats him, struggling violently in his arms, he isn’t able to twist out of the other party’s brute force. In order to escape as soon as possible, he ponders for a moment, thinking that it’s best to answer his question honestly.

“Truthfully speaking, I think it’s nothing strange for someone like you - who refuses to admit defeat even when playing games with kids - to get dumped.

“What I need right now is comfort! Are there bad friends like you out there?!” Fan Zihang lifts his tear-stained face, facing the boy. But the boy grasps the only important point in his words.

“We’re friends?” The boy’s question is particularly sincere, adding another blow to Fan Zihang’s hurt feelings.

“Boy, you really lack a conscience!! If we weren’t friends, would I accompany you to play chess every day and be easily defeated by you!”

The boy is suddenly enlightened, and the look in his eyes brighten. He says softly, “So friends share such a relationship?”

“Boy, the main points you get are really off the mark...” Seeing the boy look as though he just resolved a difficult problem boggling the century, Fan Zihang can’t help but laugh. The gloomy and dismal clouds hanging above him have more or less dissipated without him realising it.

“This counts as an honour to you, Boy. Your first friend is me, an amazing criminal police officer!”

“Mm, a useless adult who weeps to a kid after getting dumped by his girlfriend.” Over the course of their interactions, his refined and polite appearance has long since disappeared. He would even bicker to no end with Fan Zihang.

“You really aren’t cute at all sometimes! How can a person mature without experiencing some blood and tears!” Fan Zihang rubs his fuzzy little head roughly, filled with anticipation for his future. “Whether it’s you or me, there will come a day when we become very amazing people!”

He knows that their paths have conveyed only temporarily. He knows the two of them will eventually walk down completely different life paths.

But at the very least, at this present moment, they can cry and smile, smile and cry, supporting each other.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc lucien #cncancelled #baby lucien is such a SAVAGE

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xbunnybunz · 5 years ago

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the devil is always cold [jimmy bae x reader x jack kang]

Summary: You and Jimmy used to be close, or at least, as close as the public eye would allow. After he is defeated by Ben Park, he grows distant. As you struggle to hold onto the last pieces of yourself and the fourth strongest member of the Union, Jack Kang reaches out to you. Loving the devil has never been easy.

Genre: Angst, Romance

Date: November 27, 2020

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The act of loving goes far beyond things we hear from others.

Jimmy Bae is ferocious, people whisper. A person of violence, of destruction, of pride. He’s merciless, a real devil. Instead of a hot pitchfork, he saunters around Yoosun with a wicked grin and a balled fist. He punishes the good and the bad and everything in between.

Fire springs from the ground his feet have kissed, and making eye contact—even from a distance, has said to cause temporary loss of bladder control. (Noted from the Shuttle Patch itself.) His knuckles never fall dull upon any jaw, anonymous writers post. They say the crack can be heard resonating through the school lot, through the local park, through Yoosun alleyways.

He’s a dangerous man.

Jimmy Bae the fearsome, they say. Jimmy Bae the heartless.

And to some extent, you guess it’s true. You’ve seen the look in his eyes before, the life that sparks like an electrical fire right before the first swing—that look that completes Jimmy Bae’s desperate drive for adrenaline like a missing puzzle piece.

But to you, Jimmy Bae was none of those things. To your ever-expanding universe, he was the raging sun. He had a gravitational pull on you, managed to suck you in with nothing more than a look or a few words. A magnetizing man, a killer man, a lovely man.

You were no stranger to the rumors floating around Jimmy, but those words will always stay just words to you. After all, you’d seen firsthand how he cared for his closest friends. Cared for both you, and Jack Kang.

Jimmy knew of his reputation of course, and had a strange and lingering adoration for it. And so the affection that was dealt to both you and Jack was always subtle, always something that would appear like a wisp of smoke. There for one second and gone the next. It was always appreciated for the ephemeral moment it would show itself, and though Jack didn’t seem to mind the brevity, you always secretly yearned for something more.

At night alone in your room, you’d bundle yourself up nice and warm in blankets. Staring at the ceiling, thinking about Jimmy. Wondered if he did all this because he was fearful of losing claim to his title.

Jimmy Bae, fearful. Anyone else would’ve laughed at the incredulity, but you weren’t anyone else.

So you wondered more, pondered further. Wondered if he was afraid that he couldn’t convince himself he was a cold-blooded predator if he allowed himself to love, even just a bit. If he realized he hadn’t embodied the mask people had carved out for him, would everything he had been fighting for become a charade, gone up in smoke?

You both stir yourself from peace and lull yourself to sleep on these thoughts, in vain. Your concerns and curiosities did nothing to answer your questions. The most you can bring yourself to do is observe and understand.

So when he snarks you, feet propped on the table in the pools place for the third time that week, you do nothing but smile at him.

“What do you mean Jimmy?”

He groans and gets up, rolls his eyes like you’re a waste of his time and space.

“I told you I fucking hate coke. Pepsi, dumbass. Pepsi!” He taps the cold metal can on your head, but it doesn’t hurt and you’re not scared despite his looming height.

You’re sure he said exactly the opposite last time, but when you catch sight of Eunjang uniforms by the cue sticks, you swallow your words.

“Ah Jimmy, sorry about that. I totally suck, huh?” You laugh and let him keep pestering you with the can.

You glance at the Eunjang kids again and pause when you catch Jack’s gaze, eyes dark and hard like shining onyx stones. You recognize the look. It’s the shimmer he gets in his eyes when anyone talks shit about Jimmy, the twinkle that possesses him the moment his fingers itch to form a fist. Strangely, it’s been growing in him recently. Stranger yet, it seems to surface more frequently when Jimmy speaks.

Your eyes fall into a lock with his, and his brows are furrowed just slightly. Perhaps a bypassing detail for anyone else, but for the ever-reticent Jack Kang, this was a telltale sign of a temper quickly boiling over.

You soften your eyes and wink at him. This simple gesture is enough to derail him from his previous growing anger, simmering down to flickering embers. Jack turns away from the scene, but his fists are still balled.

It didn’t always used to be like this. You’ve found yourself reminiscing on the older days more than you care to say aloud. It was something you did in private, so you could pretend you didn’t notice Jimmy changing.

You recall when Jimmy used to loop his arm around your shoulders when the three of you strut down the street. His body was always pressed to yours, large and warm in the summer, arm weighing on you like a heavy blanket. The arm migrated to your back as the leaves turned crimson, then your waist when the wind blew harsher.

You would never say, but you ached for the feeling of his fingers on you again. It used to be so effortless, he was a casual man. A friendly pat here, and a loving ruffle of your hair there. It was addicting, he was a passionate man.

Once he had brushed his fingers along your jaw when examining a bruise you had gotten in the crossfire of a fight. Gossamer touch, but leaving searing skin in it’s wake. You remember the look on his face like it was singed into the back of your eyelids. A slight smirk, cocked head, eyes gleaming auburn—a kindling fire waiting for a forest to burn.

Jimmy Bae wanted you. You felt it with every aching fibre of your being, and you so desperately wanted him too. So you leaned in and let the flames consume you.

He reciprocated as much as he dared, which was enough to turn heads in public. Induce hushed voices asking who that was, standing so close to Jimmy Bae? The whispering was widespread, but no solid evidence of a relationship could be forged from any amount of blurry cellphone pictures, or firsthand accounts. This was, of course, because Jimmy Bae and you were stuck in the limbo between friendship and perhaps something more. Whenever you wanted to ask, your eyes meet his and there’s always a silent plead—sloppily hidden as a command—to never ask.

So you didn’t.

Somewhere between the brawl with Ben Park and Jimmy Bae, Jimmy had grown cold. Harsher on you, more secretive to Jack. Both of you asked, but he would say nothing worth noting. Always throwing red herrings, making shitty jokes. Brushing you off, brushing Jack Kang off, brushing you both off. Even smaller things, like his phone, would always be flipped upside down. Never answered when ringing. Never noticed when vibrating, at least, not around the both of you. A smile plastered on his lips like a dare to even fucking ask. Soon, all you and Jack had was each other.

You recall the week things shifted, even thinking about it left a creaking throb in your chest.

Jimmy had flaked out on Jack for a while and completely avoided you altogether. He’d be busy, he said. Union things, he muttered, before stalking away. He was always occupied now, always too focused on everything and anything but you and Jack. A month of diverted gazes, shifty feet and shitty grins later, he finally called you and Jack out again.

“How much of that shit are you gonna drink?”

You blink and look up at Jimmy, sitting across you with a sneer and some bruises on his pretty face.

“I’m sorry?”

He leans in and sucks his teeth audibly, almost obnoxiously. When he speaks, it’s slow like ridicule.

“I asked, when the fuck are you going to lay off on those sodas?” He scoffs and points at the drink in front of him, then at you. “You know how slow you’ve been getting?”

Jimmy laughs and elbows Jack, who sits stiffly beside him. “They think it ain’t shit enough that all they can do is run!” Jack does not utter a word. You can see his adam’s apple bob when he swallows, his jaw tense when he clenches his teeth. But he says nothing.

Jimmy doesn’t seem to mind. He turns to you again, gesturing in the air.

“Do us all a favor and get rid of that, will ya?”

All you can do is watch the words form and fall from his lips and nod. They descend deep into a cavern in your heart, which consumes it eagerly regardless of the sour feeling it leaves behind.

Jimmy was tenser. Meaner. More eager than ever to defend his title.

You forgave him, because he never seemed really happy about it. His eyes didn’t crinkle the way they used to when he made a jest, his teeth never flashed a smile quite the same. But the words that used to be just words still echoed in your mind.

Jimmy the wretched, Jimmy the heartless. Jimmy Bae, the real devil.

But not all was lost. Almost immediately, Jack caught onto your plight. He noticed the hurt in your eyes when you laughed at a particularly cruel joke Jimmy made about you, hears the drag in your tone when you’re asked to do another chore suit for a shuttle.

Jack Kang is a quiet one. He’s silent, but ever watchful. This makes him a hard opponent to read, a hard opponent to fight, and an even harder opponent to hide things from.

“It doesn’t bother me at all,” You say, picking at your fingers. “I hadn’t even noticed.”

You press your back into your bedroom wall, kicking your feet absentmindedly off the bed and hoping to recede into the cracks, away from his umber gaze.

He clicks his tongue and sighs, shoulders dropping, brown eyes piercing straight through you.

“’Doesn’t bother you?’ ‘Haven’t noticed?’” He sits beside you and the bed creaks under his weight, movie on the television long forgotten. He reaches out and places two hands, almost familiar, on your shoulders. “Tell me what’s going on. Doesn’t this…”

He hesitates, like he’s wondering if ‘hurt feelings’ is something he should talk about. Like he’s wondering about the implications between you and Jimmy, about the space he had to wriggle in between the both of you and ask. You hate that he figured you out. Hate that you even had feelings to be hurt in the first place. You despised that Jack and Jimmy were so hardened by the streets that even emotions were embarrassing to speak about in private, let alone display in public.

You place a hand on his wrist and feel his bone and tendons under your fingertips. Somewhere beyond that, there’s a faint pulse, quiet and steady, just like him.

“Jack, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” You smile at him and hope it’s enough reassurance, but one look at him and you know otherwise.

Jack holds your stare. He’s calling out your bluff without speaking, and for some reason that hurts more than all the horrible things Jimmy has said to you. You never lied to Jack, because you never had a reason to. As close as he was to Jimmy, he was to you. He had unwavering loyalty to anyone he trusted, brutally honest and always genuine. You couldn’t ask for a better person to be by your side.

Jack hadn’t spoke much when you first met and that put you on edge. His gaze was too intense, eyebrows always set in a deep furrow. There was no way to read this man, and yet no way to read him wrong—don’t mess with him, and he won’t mess with you. You avoided him, much like everyone else does when they first meet Jack, until the day you watched him fight.

It was an accident. Your eyes were always on Jimmy, always following his bouncing feet, flying jabs and dirty mouth. Then Jack crossed your vision, and you were unable to look away.

He was fierce, hits landing hard, fast, and always right on target. Jack was like a machine, churning away at making the best hits with the fastest recovery times. Most shocking to you was, unlike Jimmy, he never lashed his tongue even once. He made no promises to take his opponent down, no taunts or mockery to discredit their fighting style. For what Jack lacked in banter, he made up for in actions.

It was then you noticed the way he purchased hot drinks for you after a cold day, how he offered you the spare motorbike helmet each and every time, opting to ride without one even if it destroyed his gelled hair. “I like the wind.” He’d say. But you knew he was lying the moment he looked in the first rear-view mirror you came across, re-styling stray pieces.

Even then, you hadn’t cared for him much. All your mind and body was dedicated to Jimmy, until one day you found Jack glancing over his shoulder in the middle of fights, something Jimmy never did, seeming to search for something in your direction.

It irritated you at first. Made you feel self-conscious, but then you realized he was checking to ensure you were safe from harm. He was sweet in a subtle way that was different from Jimmy, the sparseness in his care was due more to nativity than selectivity.

You learned to trust him, understand him through actions and not words. Jack always found the time to be with you. He’d listen to your doting on Jimmy, nodding along, pretending to be intrigued and only falling asleep once. From your time together, you had learned Jack was always honest, always straightforward, always speaking his mind.

You appreciated his commitment to tell the truth, which is why your inability to reciprocate was so painful now.

“Seriously.” You slide your hand from his wrist up his arm, the muscle rippling like a tide under his pressed white shirt. His eyes travel to the movement, stare weighing heavily between you two.

“I’m alright, Jack.” You try to pry him off you gently now that he was distracted.

“Confess to him.”

You stop short. “What?”

You look back up at Jack and he’s got those steely eyes trained on you again, pinning you to the spot.

“You like Jimmy, so confess to him.”

You falter for a split second, then create a diversion with raucous laughter. “Oh Jack, I thought you were being serious for a second. Geez dude!” You slap his chest lightly but he doesn’t budge an inch. “Confess? You already know how deep the Union’s got him.”

Jack remains unfaltering and you try your best to hide how it unnerves you, reminds you of when you knew so little about him.

“Do it. You have nothing to lose.” His words slice through you like a hot knife and it breaks your heart just a little bit more. Nothing to lose?

Jack’s lips are set in a straight line, like always. He’s always so monotonous, but when you speak it sounds like a squeak of the mattress springs, “Jack... Are you alright?”

He’s got a look in his eye you can’t understand. “He’s hurting you and I hate it. Tell him how you feel. If he likes you then it’ll stop.”

You almost want to laugh at how easy he makes it sound, how he just ignored years of your strife and struggle just to hold onto a piece of the ever-elusive Jimmy Bae. But when you look at Jack, you can’t bring yourself to do anything but shrink away.

“…I’m scared of what’ll happen after.” You say.

He looks at you, really looks at you, and like always, you feel so transparent around him, so naked and bared to the bone.

“Me too.” He says.

Before you can make anything of this, he pulls you into a hug. He’s much larger and envelopes you too easily, all the sharp edges of his bones and firmness of his muscles and the pounding of his heart boxed into one embrace.

Jack Kang was the turbulent one. The tricky one, calm on the surface and storming underneath.

You’ve seen him throttle men twice his size with no trouble at all, a fierce energy blazing through him thirsting for more bloodshed. His fists are iron, and he’s fast as a bullet. But in this moment, he holds you tenderly, carefully, as if you’d splinter and shatter under his callous touch.

“Jack…” You return the hug and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pushing your face into his neck. He smells like motorcycle gas and hair mousse. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” You say.

He swallows a lump in his throat, you can feel him gulp against your shoulder. When he speaks, his voice cracks. “You didn’t.”

“Jack?” You knit your brows together, using your hands to pry him away so you can get a closer look at him. “Jack, what’s wrong?”

He holds on tight for a long second, constricting his arms around your torso like it was the last thing keeping him afloat on a storming ocean, trying to drag him deeper, deeper, deeper. But he pulls back eventually, and it’s so sudden your teeth click with the motion.

His hair is disheveled, falling across his forehead and brushing his dark brown lashes, close enough for you to count, so close you can see the pang of desire, of reservation in his eyes, shining like wet gems, feel every single warm breathy exhale on your lips.

“…Jack?”

He doesn’t reply, holds you there, just watching, oozing restraint. Despite his stiffness, you become aware of the soft duvet beneath you both, aware of the deepening orange sky across the horizon, bleeding past your curtains, washing over the room, and the chill that comes with it.

His grip on your arms tightens and then relaxes, tightens then relaxes, like he’s debating something. You watch him, entranced by the way the sunset put embers into his chocolate eyes.

“I…” He begins, voice low, lower than you’ve ever heard, almost a whisper. “I…”

He cups your face with his fingers, just barely daring to touch you. Everything he does is done with hesitation. The moment feels fragile, like glass. Like a pin dropping, or just a fragment of doubt would shatter it into a million pieces, but now, this second, he was here. Moving closer so slowly, pushing his forehead against yours, eyes searching, breathing heavy and mingling with yours.

You were confused still, conflicted. Jack was so close, so warm, so enticing, and yet Jimmy lingered in the back of your mind, his auburn hair, chesire grin and cheeky personality burning a hole into your heart and shooting tremors through your hands. What would he say about this, about you, about Jack? And darker still, a thought slipped into the cracks of your heart: would he even care? Did you even mean anything to him anymore?

You knew Jack was thinking the same, knew he was keenly aware of his proximity, aware of how he was waltzing along the edge of no return—not just for himself, but you as well.

And this may have been what stopped him short. Pausing, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, each seeming longer than the last. Then he pulls away, the space between you put a cold ache in your chest.

Jack puts his face in his hands, twisting his body away from you, like he can’t bear to see you.

“I’m… Sorry.”

You still feel an icy tundra washing over your body, but couldn’t understand why if Jimmy was the one you were thinking of. Still, for whatever reasons Jack had, you wanted to be there for him. You reached out a hand, caressing his back.

“It’s alright,” You say. “We’ll always have each other.”

He says nothing, but you think he leans into your touch just a bit more.

After this moment, Jack makes it a point to sit beside you, much to Jimmy’s surprise.

“Picking favorites now are we?” Jimmy would joke, but his laughter was always hard around the edges. Like he knew he missed something vital. “How the tables turn.”

Jack wouldn’t respond to him, instead finding your hand under the table to give it a squeeze. Just a simple action, fingers interlocking with your own.

This was enough to keep you going for another month—the time it took for you to find Jimmy squatting behind the school, smoking a cigarette and palming at his eyes.

It was chilly out, almost nearing the end of the winter. A thin sheet of snow covered the floor, and though you were bundled up, Jimmy was wearing the same old Union jacket Na had assigned to the Yoosun district. You learned a lot about that jacket, learned to love how Jimmy beamed, wearing it for the first time back in middle school, learned to hate how Na used it as a chain to keep dragging Jimmy back into the dark. Those harrowing nights he’d return from always beat, bloodied, but never defeated.

“Jimmy,” You start, and flinch at how your voice echoed, louder than you’ve heard it in months. You clear your throat, adjusting your volume. “Jimmy, what are you doing out here?”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Only exhales through his nose, something between a grunt and a gritty chuckle scraping past his lungs. He palms at his eyes for a few seconds more, turned away from you, spine curved into a lazy cove.

Then he looks up at you. His eyes are gleaming in the winter sun, bursting with something like adrenaline, anchored down by something so heavy, so deep in those spiraling fiery eyes.

His words make a puff of smoke in the air, mingling with the cold mist seeping from his lips, “The fuck do you want?”

You cringe at his tone and look away, sticking your hands into your pockets, swaying about.

“I was just…” You trail off, because you’re scared, that’s what you are. Scared of making him mad, scared of making things worse, scared of being pushed away. “…Wondering if you were cold.”

He gives you a look and shakes his head, turning back to face the furnace, gray smog exuding from the pipes.

“The fuck? Why would I be?”

You say nothing. His voice is clipped. Sharper than it usually is, and although you’re used to the pain, it cuts deep. You can tell he isn’t interested in speaking to you, that he’s telling you to leave in the subtle way Jimmy Bae always does, in the subtle way he used to hold you, touch you, worship you.

But you know what this means. You can feel the end creeping up on you like a shadow when dusk looms, rising from the grave you’ve dug so deep for it, hoping to never see it in the light of day again. If you leave now, you’ll never get the chance to speak to him again. He was closing you out, so slowly you hadn’t even recognized it at first. Looking back now, he had given you all the signs.

“Jimmy, I really—” Your voice flickers in and out like a dying flame. “I have something to tell you.”

He sighs. A deep, heavy, burdened sigh. You’ve never heard him sound like this before, you think he must be just as heartbroken as you, maybe, but then he flashes his teeth like he’s laughing at a joke.

“Listen. Babe.” He pivots himself, now facing you completely. He rests his elbows on his knees, propping an arm up and resting his chin on it. “Babe. You’re killing me here. People drift apart, you know that, don’tcha babe?”

He takes a drag from the cigarette, sucking so deep into his lungs you swear he’d turn purple. Pulls it away from his lips, chapped from the cold.

“I’m sure everyone else has noticed, catch my drift?” He cocks his head at you and suddenly you’re thrust back in time, back when he first looked at you like that under a spring sky. Eyes on fire, man on fire, Jimmy Bae and you, on fire. Then you’re back, standing frigid in the ice, snow dusting your lashes, your hands, your cheeks. Just you, in the cold.

“You’ve been pissing me off, babe. Clinging like a bitch. And I know ya know better than that, so I’m gonna ask you nicely, listen real fuckin' close.” He leans in like he’s telling you a secret, an eyebrow quirked up. “Give me some space, and I won’t take out your two front teeth.”

He takes another lengthy inhale of burning tobacco then drops it alongside the numerous other cigarette butts on the floor, crushing it underfoot his new sneakers.

Grins up at you. “Nothing personal though, right babe?”

You’re stupefied at first.

Jimmy bae, the fearsome.

So shocked and numbed that you can barely feel anything but your bursting heart.

Jimmy Bae, the heartless.

It itches like a fresh scab stretching across all the flesh of your insides, thrumming for the moment you reach the end of your rope, thrumming for release.

Jimmy Bae, the real devil.

You take the first faltering step backwards, and the spell he had over you is finally broken. Another shaking step, another, until you turn and run back towards the school, running past a blur of leafless trees and a halted figure, leaving Jimmy alone by the furnace.

Jack unsticks himself from the ground, wrenching around to watch your retreating figure, brows shooting upwards. “What the hell?” He spots Jimmy, a loose smile playing at the corners of his lips. “What did you…?”

Jimmy combs a hand through his hair and shrugs sluggishly.

“What? Don’t tell me you feel bad for them?”

Jack freezes, watching Jimmy. “Fuck,” He mutters, squeezing his eyes shut, harder and harder until he sees stars, sees your silhouette fading into the distance, sees himself telling you to confess. “Fuck!”

He opens then, shooting Jimmy a look that he’s never once in his life had the anger to muster. Jimmy hums, amused, as Jack takes off after you.

He hears the echoes of Jack calling you ringing in his head, ringing in that small enclosure, carrying long and far from the tiny alley leading to the school.

Only when he’s sure that both of you are long gone does he let out another exhale, body uncoiling and falling into itself, crumpling like paper. He pats his hair free of the snow and rubs at his reddened nose, snowflakes falling upon his face, melting instantly. Walking up to the furnace, he warms his hands and pulls the Union jacket closer to his body. Pulls out a cigarette and a lighter.

Click. Click. Click.

“Ah, forget it.”

He pockets the lighter and just lets the cigarette dangle from his lips, crossing his arms over his body, letting the frigid air slow his mind, his pulse.

Jimmy stands there for a long time, until the sun falls below the horizon, until the shadows cast by the trees consume him, all alone. He doesn’t mind. He conditioned himself to be alright with it last year, right before the fight with Ben Park. Right after he saw the way Jack looked back at you.

He takes out his phone, switches it on. The light is blinding for a second, like the sun, then his eyes adjust. About a dozen messages from Kingsley Kwan, a few from Phillip Kim.

Trash to him. Amber eyes search beyond that, swipes a finger to clear notifications.

Jimmy stands there, reveling in the image, basking in the light it sweeps over his face. The last bit of you he had to hold onto, a photo taken earlier last year. Just you, Jack and him sitting around a trashfire in the Yeongduengpo Local Park. Simpler days, easier days.

His eyes drift to your face, then to the arm he had wrapped around your waist. Hears the wind bellow, feels his fingers twitch, colder than ever.

“Hah, shit.”

He shoves the phone into his back pocket, shaking his head and speaking to no one in particular.

“I’m freezing my ass off here, you dense motherfuckers.”

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #fanfiction #jimmy bae x reader #jack kang x reader #reader insert

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i-rely-on-you · 4 years ago

Note

could I request a Farah/Saul...with maybe Farah taking care of hurt Saul...I need more content

Okay so this took me so long to write, I am terribly sorry I am so slow at this!

This one got away from me a little and I am laying it on thick with the angst but oh well... I hope you enjoy regardless

Thank you so much for the wonderful promt!!!

Soothe my Heart

It wasn’t often that Saul went out on a mission without Farah by his side and there were several good reasons for that.

First off he had a tendency to get hurt whenever she wasn’t there to have his back. It happened a lot. And it was annoying and easily to be avoided.

Secondly, in all the years they had worked together, fought together as a unit, they had rarely if ever been separated on any of the many assignments they’d been on together. It was always better to have your partner with you so they could make sure the other was alright.

Third and the most important reason for Farah, she worried when he was gone. It didn’t matter if he went out with a whole platoon of royally trained soldiers or not. She worried regardless.

Their bond was too strong and whenever she could feel even the slightest bit of anxiety or stress the headmistress had to get up from whatever task she’d been performing to walk off all that muscle tightness that wasn’t her own.

It was distracting to say the least and had also disrupted her class on several occasions.

Which brought us to Farah’s current predicament.

The mind fairy could feel heat radiating off of her bond with Saul. And it wasn’t a good kind of heat. Not the kind she felt when they were stumbling to their rooms late at night after leaving Bens and having had one glass too many of his home made parsnip wine.

It was piercing hot pain like an iron pulled from the flames, still glowing red from the fire. It was torching her nerve endings where she could feel herself being attached to Sauls mind.

It was excruciating and painful. And she could only imagine the pain he must be in, if this was how she felt still being many kilometres away from him.

The white hot pokers continued to stab her in the side with each minute passing. And the pain was worsening steadily which could only mean one thing. He was on his way back.

It gave her solace to know he’d be by her side again soon.

Finishing up classes early for the day Farah dismissed her pupils and went to search for Ben. She found him in his usual place, the greenhouse, tending to his flowers.

The way she came strutting into the room had the earth fairy on high alert in an instant.

Turning towards her Ben started “What’s going on?” brows knit together in concern.

Coming to a stop before the man Farah said “Saul is on his way back and he will be in need of medical attention.”

Having known of their bond for many years now, it didn’t even surprise the botanist anymore that the mind fairy could predict or rather know this before anyone had even called ahead to inform them.

Nodding Ben walked over to his well stocked medical cabinet and started preparing the small infirmary for the arrival of their patient.

“Is it a stabbing pain or rather an infectious pain? Is he still lucid?” her friend inquired.

Concentrating on the ever growing pain Farah focused on her bond with Saul trying to determine just how severely he had been hurt.

Scrunching up her face in concentration the headmistress replied “It’s definitely a localised pain radiating up from his flank. I can’t feel the onset of an infection yet so I don’t think it was an attack from a Burned One. I would be able to feel the difference.” She paused for a moment. “It could be a stab wound?” she wondered out loud.

Nodding again without taking his eyes off his task. “How close is he?” Ben questioned over his shoulder.

The bond Farah and her specialist shared didn’t exactly come with a GPS, but it was as close as it could get in her opinion, enabling the woman to vaguely feel the distance their bond had to travel.

“They shouldn’t be long now. I will wait for them at the gate. Maybe get Sky to help me get him here.” The fairy mused. The greenhouse was located to the far left side of the old school building. There was a pathway leading up to the entrance of Bens workplace but it wasn’t wide enough to navigate a car through. She’d have to bring him here on foot. With the help of her magic if need be. Begging to all the gods that were listening it wouldn’t come to that.

Farah shook her head to clear her mind of that thought and started walking out of the building back towards the main hall in the hopes of finding Sky. The boy needed to know.

Making her way through the winding corridors she tried to press down on the distress she was still getting from Saul and tried to concentrate on Sky’s energy. He was surrounded by friends that much she knew.

Not being able to stench the feeling of her specialists pain though, she opted for asking other students if they had seen the blonde soldier. She would not be able to find him with this much pressure pushing down on her feelings.

At last one of the first graders directed her to one of the reading nooks where she found Sky chatting and laughing with his friends Sam, Terra, Bloom and Musa.

Coming to a sharp halt in front of the group her face must’ve looked anxious in some way because the group stood up as soon as they saw her rounding the corner. All of them having apprehensive looks on their faces.

“Headmistress Dowling is everything okay?” Bloom asked immediately. Concern for the older woman clear in her voice.

Nodding Farah tried to smile reassuringly, “Yes Bloom, thank you. But I need to talk to Sky for a second. Alone.” she added.

Knowing it wasn’t a request the group dispersed quickly while still throwing worried glances at the headmistress and their friend as they went.

Sky’s face didn’t betray his emotions she could feel bubbling to the surface and she was very impressed by that.

Getting a little closer as to not alert any bypassing students Farah spoke lowly. “I need you to come with me. There has been an incident.”

Being the ever perceptive young man he was Sky picked up on her meaning almost immediately. “Is he alright?” he rushed out in a hushed tone.

Bowing her head Farah knew she couldn’t lie to him. Not about this. “He is severely injured. I don’t know more than that other than he’s in pain and on his way back.” Sky’s eyes widened a fraction his mouth falling open but unable to form the words she felt circling his mind.

“I will need your help to move him from the car to the infirmary.” The specialist in training nodded his head before she even had time to finish the sentence.

“We will meet the Queens cars by the gate but we will need to get him from there to the greenhouse and I don’t know if I can hold off on his pain and carry him all the way both at once.” she pressed on.

Sharing a nod with the boy they made to move towards the main hall again weaving their way through masses of students mingling on this early evening.

Reaching for the big door to the front of the school Farah let him pass through first before following him and closing the door quickly behind her.

She could already make out headlights coming up the path to the gate and they both began walking in the direction the cars where coming from.

On instinct the mind fairy braced herself for the onslaught of emotions that were coming their way.

The black jeep came to a halt in front of them and a Solarian guard opened the door to greet them.

“What happened?” the headmistress inquired without wasting a second on pleasantries.

The man didn’t waste any time either before opening the back door of the car.

With the last barrier between them gone the pain wafting off of the man lying in the back was like a punch to the stomach. She would’ve probably lost her footing if the need to get to him hadn’t propelled her forward in the first place.

She couldn’t even make out the words of the guard explaining the hows and the whys over the pounding in her ears anymore and in this moment she didn’t even care.

Taking the last steps she pushed past the guard and looked inside the cabin, bending over the crumpled form of her partner immediately.

“It’s not as bad as it looks Farah.” Saul tried to placate her while trying to slide out of the car.

Reaching out for him promptly the woman grasped him by the shoulders and pulled him towards her hauling him out of the enclosed space.

Stumbling as soon as his feet hit the gravel, Farah tried to steady him. Sky coming around from behind slipped underneath his other shoulder and took the brunt of his weight from her.

Looking him up and down while already steering them in the direction of the greenhouse she noted that he had already been patched up to a degree. There were bandages peaking out from his ripped shirt and he was limping quite severely too.

She could also feel his mind being a little foggy around the edges making her think he might’ve been drugged. Pain medication of some sort probably.

Struggling to keep the heavy man upright and moving, the two Alfeans staggered under his weight.

Covering the distance from the gate to the double doors of the greenhouse quickly while half dragging half carrying the injured man, Farah used her mind to give a powerful push to the door making it swing open for them.

Ben was already pacing up and down the space between the door and the infirmary when they stumbled into the room. He stepped up to them, taking Farah’s place at Saul’s side and helped them settle his injured friend onto the flat white surface of the stretcher in the corner of the room. She helped the men heave Silva’s legs onto the recliner as well before taking up her spot at the head of his prone form.

Just now noticing his pale complexion, the fairy sucked in a breath, before putting her hands on either side of his face tentatively.

Ben had already gotten to work cutting open his ruined shirt and peeling away the soiled bandages. It had indeed been a stab wound that she had felt.

Taking her eyes off of his wounded side again she looked into the face of the man before her with a solemn expression. He closed his own eyes for a second, leaning more fully into her touch, sweat glistening on his forehead.

Asking quietly what had happened, Farah waited with baited breath for him to open his eyes again and explain. After a while of just hearing him taking in shallow breaths and the soft sounds of Ben cleaning his wound he looked up at her again and swallowed thickly. “It was stupid really. It was standard procedure.” Ben snorted at this in disbelief. The absurdity of the situation making Saul grimace at how ridiculous it sounded to his own ears.

Farah nodded at him to continue. “It was basically just Luna trying to show off her power in the kingdom again. But it escalated into a small revolt in the blink of an eye. And I got stabbed by one of the insurgence party.” At this Farah’s eyes lit up with her powers and also barely contained anger.

Feeling this Saul grabbed one of the hands still holding his face and turned his head so he could place a soft kiss in the palm of her hand.

“He was barely Sky’s age. He was so afraid the guards were gonna kill him for just standing where he stood and he reacted on instinct taking me for one of Luna’s men.” he continued. Breathing deeply. “It was an accident.” he added. It was so like him to try to shield his own attacker from

Farah’s wrath. He had always had a heart too big for his own good.

“An accident that left you almost dying in an unmarked car on your way back here.” pitched in Ben while applying a local anaesthesia before getting ready to sow him back together.

Stepping up to Farah, Sky asked “Should I tell the guards to leave?” with a not small amount of distaste in his voice.

Having almost forgotten the boy was there the headmistress turned to her young pupil to address him directly. “They have already left Sky. But I would like for you to retire for the night now. Headmaster Silva is in the best of hands and we will inform you of any changes. I promise.” she vowed honestly.

Seeing as this was another situation where he needed to prove his level headedness Sky hesitated a moment before looking down at his father figure and getting a small reassuring smile in return from the man. “Okay.” he breathed out and looked up at his headmistress again. “Okay.” And with that he walked over to the double doors to the infirmary, looked back one last time and left.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Saul sagged in on himself a little. The front he had tried to keep up for the sake of not worrying the boy having drained the last of his energy it seemed. “How bad is it really Ben?” He asked breathlessly wincing a little.

Not looking up from his work the earth fairy started to tie off the last of the stitches on the wound before saying “It is rather deep but it seems to have missed any of your organs. It is mostly just tissue damage. It will heal but it will keep you immobile for a little while. I’ll have to keep you on bed rest for a few days but you should be fine in the long run.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief of herself Farah closed her eyes and lowered her head to her partners forehead. She started to slowly caress his temples in a soothing motion making the man relax slightly.

Reaching deep inside his mind she started to look for his pain receptors. They were alight with stimuli at this point and she had a little trouble grasping at all of them all at once. But once she had gathered the strongest points of pain she started to pull them from him and into herself. Her own head began to hurt from the pressure she created.

Sighing Saul started to shake his head. “Stop it Farah. It’s too much.” But his almost begging went ignored by the fairy. She kept on soaking up his anxiety and hurt like a sponge.

Knowing what was coming Ben got up from putting the last of the bandages on the wound and brought over a nearby chair for Farah to sit down on. Not needing an invitation she let herself fall into the cushioned stool and kept on stroking Sauls face.

The sensation of taking on someone’s pain had always been a difficult one. But taking on your partners pain was a whole different world of anguish. Their bond was so powerful that it left her panting with the sensation of tiny needles prodding her brain and then experiencing the wound for herself in every way but the physical. The only thing lacking in this exchange though was the blood.

Panting out one final puff of air the mind fairy leaned back in her chair suddenly and tried to calm her breathing. Putting her head in her hands for a moment to collect herself she suddenly felt the specialists hand in her hair. Carding his fingers through her wavy locks still held up by a few pins he proceeded to caress the side of her face with his thumb.

“You didn’t have to do that Farah. Not all of it. Never all of it.” he breathed. But hearing the relief in his voice let her know she had made the right choice.

Looking up from her hands again she found his gaze already resting on her. A relieved little smile playing around his lips. But she could also see pain there from causing her so much grief.

Tutting she got to her feet again already shaking her head. She took the half step separating them on unsteady feet until she was standing close to his side again.

Letting her fingers slowly move across his cheeks she bent down to lay a gentle kiss on his sweaty brow before putting her forehead to his again. Blowing out a shaky breath, letting it waft over his face she shook her head whilst never losing contact to his skin. “Of course I did. You know I always will.”

Nodding a small nod of his own the man admitted defeat albeit unhappily, fully knowing he’d do the same thing in a heartbeat had their roles been reversed.

Feeling a lot stronger now with the pain not lingering in every pore of his being Saul grasped Farah’s face in both his hands and nuzzled her forehead for a moment before trying to get up from his reclined position.

Feeling and seeing the movement both the headmistress and the earth fairy at his side went to help him sit up.

Letting out a small grunt as the motion pulled at his fresh stitches Silva let his feet fall to the ground and tested his bearings. Farah having moved to support his side inched closer to him to be able to assist if need be.

Standing up as straight as he could manage the specialist looked down at his side and put a hand to the bandage for a second before his eyes landed on Ben still standing close by in case he was needed.

Putting a reassuring hand on the other mans shoulder Saul said “Thank you old friend. I’m as good as new.” and gave him a small grin. Scoffing at that Ben responded quickly by saying “Hardly but I know you are in good hands.” Moving his eyes to his other friend standing to support Silva, Ben looked at Farah now. “You okay to get him to his quarters on your own?” he continued.

Nodding the mind fairy slipped beneath her injured specialists shoulder and started to move him in the direction of the door. Throwing a small goodnight over his shoulder Saul grasped at Farah’s arm to keep from staggering.

Opening the door for them with her powers she put her hand not lying on Sauls uninjured side on his stomach to keep him balanced. They hobbled slowly in the direction of his sleeping quarters. The quiet of night being their only companion. They didn’t feel the need to talk on their way up the long winding passageways and staircases of the old school. They were very content to just be in each other’s company without talking, seeing as they knew what the other must be thinking anyways.

Upon reaching the door to his quarters Saul put out a hand and pushed it open, letting them into the room. Farah let the door shut behind them with a small click as the lock latched into place.

She steered them in the direction of his bed and proceeded to set him down gently on the neatly folded sheets. Looking him up and down carefully the fairy wondered “Do you want to take a shower or just sleep for now?” she reached to help him get out of his ripped shirt before even having asked the question.

“I don’t think I could manage a shower if I tried to be honest.” he laughed softly. She knew he meant it as a joke but could also hear an underlying truth and honesty laced with his words which told her just how bone tired he must be.

Nodding once the headmistress got to work undressing him and decided it would suffice to leave him in just his boxers before pulling back his sheets and helping him get settled beneath the covers.

Sighing Saul stretched out his long limbs and looked up at the woman. Holding out his hand for her to take, she came closer to his side immediately. “Will you be staying?” he asked with more than a little pleading in his eyes.

The fairy conceded without hesitation. Nodding, she straightened up again before kicking off her heels and crawling onto the covers to sit next to him stretching out her legs in front of her fully.

Saul took this as permission to get closer. The headmaster rolled onto his stomach at an angle as to not put pressure on his sore side and laid his head in her lap.

Throwing his arm across her legs he grabbed on to her tightly before slumping down into her body in a boneless heap and let out a content sigh.

Still reeling in his pain through her mind the fairy also let out a small sigh in relief at being able to sit like this. Starting to relax herself she put her hands on his head and started to massage his scalp in a soothing motion. Moaning a little in bliss, Saul let out a big puff of air from his lungs. Grasping onto her legs tighter he caressed her thigh where his hand had found a spot to call home.

They continued to lie like this in companionable silence just feeling the other all around them.

It was Saul who broke the silence first. “I am sorry I caused you to worry.” he mumbled it into her thigh so softly she had to strain her head a little to hear his words.

Letting out a sad sigh she let her hand wipe across his brow to soothe his worry lines she could see forming there.

“I felt your pain since the moment it happened Saul.” she gave back quietly.

Letting out another groan but this time in discomfort the man turned his face further into her legs. The air coming out of his mouth warming her thigh letting a tingle of heat seep into her bones. „I’m sorry.“ he pressed the words into her skin more than actually saying them.

Humming softly Farah continued to card her hands through his hair more firmly now. She knew he would never cause her pain willingly if he could help it. It was hard for him to hold back his feelings sometimes causing their bond to simmer with activity. But she wouldn’t have it any other way if it meant she knew he was still alive.

Wiping a few wisps of hair that had fallen into his face away, Farah hummed again. “Don’t be.” Patting his cheek softly she went on “I like knowing you’re still alive out there.” Smiling at feeling his lips forming a smile of his own on her skin she thought of something else.

“We need to stop doing this.” she muttered sadly.

Not knowing what she meant by that he let her gather her thoughts quietly. He could feel she needed to say something and he would give her all the time in the world to find the right words for it.

After a short pause she continued on tangling her hands through his short hair.

“We can’t go out on assignments on our own anymore. I don’t care what Luna has to say about it and how much she despises seeing my face.” Letting a breath leave her lips in an exasperated manner she pushed on. “If she needs either one of us for something again we go together.” The finality in her statement made him giggle a little.

Tugging on his ear softly the headmistress scolded the man in her lap “Oh don’t you laugh at me now Saul. It’s not funny.” Belying her own words she puffed out a small laugh herself.

“Hey, injured man here. Stop tugging on my ear woman!” he feigned being hurt gaining him another soft tug shortly after.

After giggling softly to themselves for a minute the room grew quiet again.

“I can’t bear it Saul.” With this Farah grew solemn. But she pushed on to get her point across. “I can’t walk these halls and teach these young minds what it means to control their powers when I can feel a knife being pushed through your flesh as if it were my own.” It saddened her to know he felt bad about it even though he had no way of preventing it from happening. He couldn’t shield his feelings from her like she could from him. He wasn’t trained like she was.

Knowing she wouldn’t want to hear another apology he opted for rubbing circles into her thigh again. It seemed to have the desired effect as she sighed a little in response to his ministrations.

“You should get some sleep.” She mumbled softly.

Nodding he responded “So should you.” Before letting out a yawn, almost biting into her leg with the force of it.

Smiling she caressed his head a little more softly now. “I will. Now close your eyes.”

He did as he was told and it didn’t take him long to fall over the edge of unconsciousness. Snoring softly.

~~~

He woke up some time later to the feeling of slight shifting beneath him.

Farah had gotten up during the night to take off her dress as he could see it hanging from a chair in the corner of the room. She was now clad in an old black t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs of his.

How she had managed to do that without waking him he didn’t know.

She was lying on her back, her arms wrapped around him. He had his head pillowed beneath her breasts resting on her stomach as it moved up and down with each breath she took. One of her knees slung over his ribs where he lay nestled between her legs, bracketed by her thighs. He didn’t know where he began and she ended anymore. But he didn’t care. It was the most comfortable and safe he had felt in years lying with her like this.

Snuggling down again he pressed his face to her belly softly. Her shirt had ridden up during the night granting him access to the soft skin of her stomach. He laid a kiss on the spot where his lips met her skin making her shiver subconsciously in her sleep.

Still asleep as if wanting to make sure he was still alright, Farah wound her arms around his head and let her hands sink into his hair at the base of his neck. Sighing softly she settled down, her breathing evening out again.

They were going to be alright.

They were home.

Together.

fin

Thank you so much for readin! Be sure ro like/reblog

@chibsytelford u like it?

#fanfic #farah dowling #farah dowling x saul silva #saul silva #fate winx saga #chibsytelford

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writeofmind · 5 years ago

Text

honesty

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: Jennie x Reader

Type: Completed two-shot

It was time for you to let go, but you couldn’t help but think... did she really mean it all?

A/N: A part 2 to Mean It! I didn’t initially plan for a continuation, but if it means adding angst and drama, I’m all for it. For @sprclfrglstcxpldcs; I hope I wrote it to your liking!

Mean It

You wondered just how long you would be able to take this. Your body felt as if it grew heavier every day, your heart weighing you down and your mind blanking everything out.

You tried your best to avoid Jennie. Her texts would come every now and then, always asking the same thing.

Are you free tonight?

It was always so tempting to text back, to say yes, I’m always free for you. But you always found yourself holding yourself back and leaving your thumb hovering over the send button. Instead, you would just text:

Sorry, I’m busy.

It hurt you to turn her away, but you knew deep down that you couldn’t hold on to her anymore. You should have known that she was slipping away the moment she was able to drop you with no hesitation; it was your fault that you let yourself get so hurt.

Rather than let yourself indulge on those fleeting moments of love and intimacy, you decided to force yourself out of your dating rut. Instead of moping around your home, you decided to pick up hobbies. You would be at the gym late at night instead of watching T.V alone, or you would take some intense dancing classes taught by a highly recommended mentor, Lisa. You appreciated the distraction that the class brought, and not only did it take your mind off of everything, but it began to improve your well-being and confidence as well.

It was there you met a girl named Jisoo. She was a close friend of the mentor’s, so she accompanied her to the classes often and participated at times. She seemed like the direct opposite of Lisa, who was stern and strict during instruction hours; Jisoo was usually bouncing around with a huge smile on her face.

One night, after class had ended, you were squatting and digging through your bag to find your desperately needed bottle of water. As you shuffled your things around, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned and glanced up, seeing a smile directed right at you. It was Jisoo, waving.

“Oh, hi Jisoo,” you smiled and stood, “what’s up?”

Jisoo’s smile never left her face. You would have thought that her resting face was just a smile 24/7. “I wanted to compliment you on your skills. They seem like they’ve really improved since you first started!”

Your eyebrows raised to your hairline. A compliment?? From a pretty girl?? Cogwheels began to turn in your head. You really have been out of the dating pool for a while if something as small as this got you flustered.

“Ah, thank you!!” You feel that your tone may have come out a bit more enthusiastic than you meant it to, “It’s all thanks to Lisa, really. She’s a really great teacher.”

Jisoo shook her head. “Don’t sell yourself short, y/n. You’re really good at picking things up pretty quickly.”

She even knew your name?? Passing out seemed like a very likely outcome in that moment. You thanked her, but much to your surprise, she didn’t move from where she was standing. Instead, she stayed right where she was, crossing her arms and talking to you.

You’ve never really spoken with Jisoo before, aside from saying hello and goodbye. Trying to bypass your shyness as much as you could, you smiled at her and kept the conversation going. The two of you stood there talking for what seemed like a couple minutes, when really it was close to an hour, and you didn’t even notice that you were one of the last students standing around in the studio.

“Hey, Jisoo!” Lisa’s voice snapped you out of the conversation, “Are you coming home with me?”

A blush suddenly settled across your cheeks. You never put two and two together; Jisoo and Lisa were probably a thing, and here you were, blatantly flirting right in front of your mentor’s face. Jisoo, upon seeing your reaction, let out a giggle.

“Yeah, give me a second!”

She then turned to you and lightly patted your shoulder. “Me and Lisa are just roommates. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

Your ears ran hot. Geez, was your expression that readable?

“A-ah! That’s cool, I’m sorry for keeping you so long,” You scratched the back of your head with a laugh. Jisoo never made you feel small under her gaze. Instead, you felt calm around her.

“Don’t worry. I enjoyed talking to you.” She swayed back and forth (and reminded you of a cute little puppy), “I’ll see you next week, yeah?”

You nodded furiously. “Yes! Absolutely.”

Jisoo gave you one last smile before bouncing off towards Lisa, who you waved to as well. Lisa gave you a smile and wave in return, back to her normal self once she turned her mentor attitude off.

You gathered your things quickly and left not too long after they did. You hadn’t even bothered to check your phone, which had an unread message.

Hey, y/n, what are you up to?

You looked forward to every class now. Not that you didn’t look forward to it before, but now, there was just something different that made everything so fun.

Maybe it was the way Jisoo excitedly greeted you when you walked into the studio, or the way she’d sit with you on breaks, or the way she’d approach you after class to talk to you some more. You definitely didn’t miss the way she’d keep an eye on you during class, and you were sure that she didn’t miss your glances at her when she would dance as well.

Though you did your best to forget about Jennie, you couldn’t help but see her in Jisoo sometimes. With the way her smile blinded you and how bubbly she was, you would quickly push that thought into the back of your mind.

Your phone was on do not disturb more days than before. Rarely would you reply to Jennie’s texts, and you noticed that she began to post less and less on social media. Her partner was scarcely in her photos, but you paid no mind to it. You figured they were going through a rough patch yet again, and you knew better now than to give in to be her comfort.

Instead, you would sit on the floor of a dance studio late at night, chatting and laughing with Jisoo. Sometimes, you felt like she treated you with a little more affection than anyone else in the studio. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you couldn’t help the little jump your heart did when she would direct a wave to you.

When class ended, Jisoo came up to you as she usually did. You looked over and smiled at her before she even got the chance to say anything.

“Hey, Jisoo,” you stood and steeled your heart, playing with your tongue in your cheek. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

Jisoo, visibly surprised, shook her head. “Oh, no, I’m not.” She tilted her head, “Why do you ask?”

You could tell that she was trying to hold back a giggle when you fiddled with your fingers.

“Ahh, I was just wondering if you’ve eaten yet, and if not, if you may want to go grab something with me.”

Jisoo’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly, your face flushed.

“That’s-- only if you can or want to, of course! If you and Lisa need to go, or you’re busy, that’s totally cool--”

You felt your ears burn red when Jisoo let her laugh slip out.

Oh god, you thought, Jisoo is going to absolutely crush your dreams, right here in this studio. She’s laughing at your lame attempt to ask her out, and she’s going to turn you down right here, and you’ll be right back into a rut--

“I’d love to, y/n.”

You blinked. What?

“You... would?”

Jisoo raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I just- didn’t expect to get this far?” You shrugged and blinked once again.

A hearty laugh came from Jisoo, and she slapped your arm. You couldn’t help but let a smile cross your face at the action, and you laughed at yourself too.

“Well, let’s get going!” Jisoo tugged at you, “I am hungry.”

You chuckled at her antics. “Would you like to do the honors of choosing what you want to eat? I’m sure I’ll like whatever you choose.”

A sly smile crossed Jisoo’s face. “Chicken then!!”

You laughed and grabbed at your bag before Jisoo began to drag you out of the studio. “Okay, okay, chicken then!”

You didn’t expect to enjoy yourself that much after going out to eat with Jisoo. You didn’t even want the night to end, but you also didn’t want her to have to return home so late. After dropping her off at her apartment, you made your way home as well.

You inserted your key into your door and was just about to head inside when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey.”

You jumped at the sudden noise and turned with your hands up to fight. All you were met with was a short, angry girl.

“Jennie?” Your heart rose to your throat as soon as you mentioned her name. “What are you doing?”

“You haven’t been answering my texts.” She huffed with crossed arms. You raised an eyebrow and looked her up and down. Surprisingly, even though you could feel the anxiety in your chest, you felt more angry seeing her than anything.

“Why do I need to reply to your texts?”

Jennie seemed taken back by your question. Your expression never changed, you simply stared at her. When she didn’t reply, you sighed.

“Something happened, didn’t it.”

Your voice came out colder than you had expected it to. You didn’t mean to sound so rough—

Jennie just looked at the ground. That was your answer. Yes, something had happened, and she expected you to fix it.

“Look Jennie, I can’t keep doing this, okay?” You ran your hand through your hair, “I can’t just be at your beck and call whenever you need me. Don’t you see how much that hurts me?”

This caught Jennie’s attention. She looked up at you with wide eyes.

“And- it’s just wrong! Your partner, don’t you think about them? And how they’d feel?”

Silence still. Jennie’s eyes began to soften under your stern gaze. You thought to stop, you didn’t want to make her cry, but months of frustration and pain began to creep up your throat. You couldn’t help but let her know.

“I don’t know whether I’m the other person or your partner is!” You continued, “God, Jennie, I would do anything for you. And you know that! That’s exactly why you use me like this, and I don’t know why I let you.”

Tears began to form in your eyes. It seemed that she may have noticed, because she took the smallest step towards you. You shook your head.

“I won’t be your little toy anymore, Jennie.”

You expected some sort of fight from her, as emotional as she can usually be. You expected her to fire back at you, to retort against everything you said, but she didn’t. She just looked you in the eyes.

“I know...” Her voice came out as nothing but a whisper. Now was your turn to be surprised.

“I’m... I’m sorry, y/n.” Jennie’s head dropped once again. You raised your eyebrows.

“So why, Jennie?” You questioned. It almost sounded like you were begging for an answer— maybe you were.

“I-I don’t know why I do this. I don’t know what I want... it’s no excuse, but..” She looked up at you with tears in her eyes.

Seeing her in such a state tugged at your heart. You hated the effect she still had on you. Your arms twitched, like you were fighting against your own mind to raise your arms and pull her into a hug.

“I do care about you. So much, y/n. And I don’t show it well, I’m so sorry that I take advantage of you...” Jennie’s voice began to break into sobs. You could see her shoulders quivering with every breath she took.

“I think about you all the time... I know it’s wrong. I try to keep you close even though someone else is trying to do the same... but the truth is that they’re just not you.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart stopped.

They weren’t you?

What?

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Not even a breath. The confession hung in the hair, and you didn’t know what to do with it. Jennie looked up at you one last time, and that was it. She turned her back and walked back to her car, no other words exchanged.

Your hand lingered on your doorknob. You had half the heart to call her name out, but you couldn’t move. You eyes stayed glued to Jennie’s retreating back, and you could feel tears dripping down your cheeks. You knew it was time to let go.

In the back of your head, in the deepest parts of your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder if she really meant what she said.

The next class you attended was hard, to say the least.

Not because of the dancing, but because of your jumbled thoughts. You kept up and followed along, but you just couldn’t put your full concentration into it. Jisoo noticed this, as she often glanced over at you with an eyebrow raised.

When class was over, you sat hunched over your knees. That night played over and over in your head. Right when you were starting to get over her, she managed to claw her way back in. Were you supposed to be angry? Sad?

All that you felt now was confusion. You didn’t even notice Jisoo walking over to you.

“Y/n, are you feeling okay?” She leaned over to look at your face. You immediately snapped out of your daydream and looked up.

“Oh, Jisoo,” you managed a smile, “yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

Her eyes narrowed as she plopped onto the floor in front of you. “No, you aren’t, and I can tell. What’s wrong?”

You looked at Jisoo, and you could see the earnest look in her eyes. They were soft and inviting; you wondered why you couldn’t just move on and talk with Jisoo instead. Maybe your heart was stuck on someone else and it prevented you from moving on. Either way, the more time you spent with Jisoo, the more you felt like two peas in a pod with her. She became such a close friend, and you hoped she’d stay that way. You couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh.

“There’s this girl...” You groaned, flopping onto your back. You could hear Jisoo’s laugh.

“Of course there is. I knew it.”

You raised your head with a shocked look on your face. “What do you mean, ‘you knew’??”

“Y/n, everyone has a certain look to them when they’ve gotten their heartbroken. I saw it when we first talked.”

“What?” You laughed, and then tilted your head. “Aw, so you didn’t just talk to me because you thought I was cute?”

With a roll of her eyes, Jisoo poked your forehead back o the floor. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I think you’re cute. And I wasn’t opposed to anything happening between us; but, even more importantly, I could see that you needed a friend.”

You smiled widely at her. Ah, you wished you could fall for Jisoo. It calmed your nerves to know that there were no hard feelings.

“But, tell me about the girl.” Jisoo prodded, “Get it off your chest.”

You groaned again before wiping your face with both hands. You started from the beginning and told her all about it, from the night you separated to the night of the confession.

Jisoo didn’t interrupt once. She simply sat and listened to you with full attention, nodding along to the details and squinting her eyes. When you finished, you sighed, and looked up to her once again.

Jisoo had her arms crossed. “Well, she definitely sounds complicated.”

You nodded with your eyes squished shut.

“To be honest with you, y/n,” Jisoo hummed, “I think she did mean it.”

“You do?!” Your body shot up from the floor, “Why?!”

Jisoo couldn’t help but laugh at you, and your face flushed of all color. How desperate you must have looked in that moment.

However, Jisoo just smiled at you.

“Because she cared enough that you weren’t responding to her. Granted, it may be because of the attention, but she cared enough to show up uninvited just to talk to you. And she even let a confession slip out. I don’t think that’s a scripted thing to do.”

You blinked. So... she meant it? Everything?

“What do you think I should do?” You let your head hang low, “Should I give her a chance?”

Jisoo shrugged her shoulders. “That’s entirely up to you. I can see how much you care for her-- and she seems like she does too. You just need to establish the boundaries. No more games. If she really wants you too, she won’t be opposed to it.”

Slowly, you nodded your head. Jisoo made a lot of sense. As you looked at the girl in front of you, you pulled her in for a hug.

“Thank you, Jisoo. I really appreciate you.”

Jisoo, surprised from the sudden show of affection, giggled. She squeezed you back just as tightly. “Of course, y/n. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, you have me, right?” She laughed and patted your back, “I’m just kidding.”

You laughed along with her until Lisa called for her to leave. She smiled at you and offered her hand to lift you up, and you all left the building together.

Once you reached home, you pulled your phone out. No missed messages; none for the past week.

You opened your messages and typed one out.

Hey. I think we should talk. Can you come by?

Your thumb hovered over the send button once again. You steeled your nerves, taking in a deep breath and sending it. You only waited a couple minutes this time before you got a response.

On my way.

Your breath caught in your throat upon the realization that you’d have to face this head on. You quickly changed your clothes and waited, and about 30 minutes later, there was a knock on your door.

With sweaty palms, you made your way over. You took a deep breath before opening it.

Jennie stood there seeming even smaller than before. She looked so tired, so drained. You softened at the sight of her and stepped to the side, inviting her in as you used to.

She walked in, clutching at her jacket, but said nothing. She simply stood in the middle of the room, facing away from you.

As you shut the door, you tried to think of what to say. You didn’t know how to approach this conversation. You were frozen in your spot and your throat felt suddenly dry.

It was quiet for a long while. The two of you hadn’t even made eye contact, let alone move from your spots. You played with your own hands, until you heard Jennie take a deep breath.

“I meant what I said.”

You looked up at her just as she turned to meet your stare. Her eyes were glistening, your lips parting at the sight.

“I meant everything. I never once stopped thinking about you. It was always you. I was just... I’m so stupid.” Jennie shook her head, “I don’t know why I was so scared with you. You... everything felt so normal but so scary. I’ve never been so worried to pursue someone before, and I didn’t know what that meant. I was always so confident in myself, but when I was with you-- god, it was only you.”

You listened as best you could. Your heart pounded so hard in your chest that you could feel the reverb in your ears.

“Even when I’d come to you when things were rough-- it was all because I only wanted you. You comfort me in ways no one else can, and I don’t know why I still seek it from others if you’re all I want.”

The air felt like it was just snatched from your lungs. Jennie was rambling on and on about you and you couldn’t believe your ears. Everything was real?

You licked your lips as you took a deep breath. “But... Jennie, your partner--”

“I don’t have one.”

Jennie’s gaze now pierced your own. You pulled back.

“I don’t want them. And it took me too long, and made me cause so much pain before I realized it.”

Jennie’s body turned to you, slowly making her way over. You breath hitched in her throat when she stood in front of you. She didn’t dare look into your eyes; she stayed focused on the floor before slowly wrapping her arms around you.

Your body went into shock. It had been so long since you held her like this, and it felt no different from every single time you did. Your hands instinctively held her back close to you.

Jennie melted in your embrace.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t expect your forgiveness right away. I just need you to know, I always meant it. I always cared about you.”

Your eyes grew teary eyed listening to her talk. It wasn’t just words; you could feel Jennie’s honesty, her desperation for you to understand.

Your hold on her tightened, and she let out a small gasp.

“I’ve always cared for you too, Jennie. Never did I ever doubt that,” you whispered, “but you’re right. I can’t forgive you right away. It hurt me real bad, Jennie.”

“I know. I know, I’m so sorry--” Jennie’s voice shook again. You removed your hands from her back to hold her face in your palms. She looked at you with tears streaming down her cheeks, and you couldn’t help but kiss her forehead. You felt her freeze.

“I still want this.” You admitted when you pulled away. “I want to try us, the right way. But I can’t give myself to you so easily.”

Jennie couldn’t help her smile.

“I understand, and I don’t want you to,” her hands shot up to hold yours, still cupping her face, “I want to do this. I’ll prove to you I want you. I’m so sorry, y/n.”

You smiled back at her. Jennie dove back into your embrace, squeezing you as tight as she could, her tears staining your shirt.

You didn’t care. You knew that this time, Jennie meant it all.

#blackpink scenarios #gg scenarios #jennie #jennie kim #blackpink #kpop scenarios #kim jennie #jennie x reader #kpop #girl group scenarios #writeofmind

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chocoholicannanymous · 4 years ago

Text

...As Stupid Does (Teen Wolf) 19/19

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything – except for a red hoodie...

This is the final part of this story, and this ‘verse. A bit bittersweet, but honestly? So much relief too. Because as much as I never wanted to abandon this story I was worried that I’d never pull together the focus and energy to connect scattered paragraphs and thoughts into a complete ending.

Here it is though. I hope those of you reading this enjoy it.

Part 18, Part 17, Part 16, Part 15, Part 14, Part 13, Part 12, Part 11, Part 10, Interlude, Part 9, Part 8d, Part 8c, Part 8b, Part 8a, Part 7, Part 6, Part 5,Part 4,Part 3, Part 2, Part 1,Not Stupid, Stupid Is… and pre-verse ficlet I’m Stupid (Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me)…

Epilogue

Here's the thing: Stiles is a lucky guy. He's smart enough to realize exactly how lucky.

He's three years through a four year college degree, with a job waiting for him after graduation. His relationship with his dad is stronger than ever. He's got a home also waiting for him, one that's surrounded by two packs full of 'wolves.

He's also got Derek.

And the thing is, he and Derek? They're good together. Like really, really, almost disgustingly good. They weren't back in Beacon Hills. They kind of weren't when they decided to try again, for real this time.

They had spent their first year together fucking up, and god, the amount of times Stiles had questioned not just his sanity in doing this but also his intelligence. But during that year they also started working together, begun healing old hurts and smoothing down their rough edges, and found a way to fit together.

Once that year was over they'd sat down and talked things through.

Okay, they'd screamed some too, and once Stiles had even walked out. But the important thing is that he'd done so in a mature way. He'd told Derek that he was walking out, why he was doing so and that he was coming back once he'd cooled off. And then he'd kept his word.

And they'd done it on their own. No prompting, no mediating, no one coming in to send them to separate corners or patch them up. Stiles is still hella proud of that.

It's been three years now, and as far as Stiles is concerned he's got an amazing boyfriend that he fully expects to spend the rest of his life with.

If anyone had told him this years ago, when Scott had just been bitten and they were scrambling to keep their heads above water – at one point literally – Stiles would not have believed it. At one point he'd have taken violently offense, even without being told said boyfriend would be Derek.

Things have changed. He has changed. Derek has changed. But most importantly? They've changed together.

These days Derek has enough of a handle on himself to not need magic or therapy to make it through a visit. He's still seeing Dr Bianchi occasionally, as is Stiles, but they're both down to a handful of times per year.

And it's not just when it comes to the two of them that Derek has improved. Stiles gets regular reports from Scott, and it's obvious that Derek's a good Alpha these days. Sure, he will only stay an Alpha for a little while longer before handing it over to Cora, but that doesn't diminish his accomplishment. Everyone in a pack benefits from a good, steady Alpha.

Just like Cora benefits from a brother who is all these things.

Yeah, life is good.

The only dark cloud on Stiles's horizon is that he's going to have to go back to Beacon Hills.

Returning to Beacon Hills is, yeah okay, it's not the last thing Stiles wants to do. Reliving the Alpha pack, the kanima, Kate, Allison, Gerard, Peter (though that one's a firm “against” on returning too), reliving his mother's death, living through his dad's death, killing someone, almost killing someone, losing his pack, losing Embry... There are a lot of thing that Stiles wants even less.

But returning to Beacon Hills, even for a weekend, does come very low on the list. Distance has not made Stiles' heart fonder. Returning sadly isn't exactly optional.

Sure, no one's forcing him, but that doesn't mean staying away is an alternative. Not this time. Because Scott is getting married. Scott, who's still only 21 for another couple of weeks, and who used to think that werewolves were the worst (or second worst depending on how angry he was with Derek that day), who believed that he didn't need an Alpha and that Allison had hung the moon, is getting married to a werewolf, one that's not only Derek's sister, but also his soon-to-be Alpha.

And of course said wedding has to take place in Beacon Hills.

Now, Stiles has done his best to talk Scott into eloping, has tried since Scott called him with the news that Cora had said yes, but. Apparently Scott can't see the brilliance in eloping, not even with Stiles's excellent arguments.

“You, me, your mom, abuela Delgado, Derek and Cora. Just the family. No douche pack.”

“What about Peter?”

Seriously? The last thing Stiles had expected to need to justify is why leaving Peter out of, well, everything is a good idea.

“No uncle psycho either. He doesn't qualify as family.”

There's a sound that Stiles knows from years of being Scott's friend means he's nodding in agreement.

“Okay, true. What about dad though?”

“Oh, you know, I figured he'd be my plus one.” That came out flippantly, because he knows there's no way Scott wouldn't invite his dad regardless.

“No, Stiles, what about my dad?”

“He doesn't qualify as family either.”

The words come out before Stiles can filter himself, and he kind of wishes he could take them back, except...

“Look, can I be brutal here? I mean, we both know I'm going to be honest so... When's the last time you saw agent McCall?”

“There was a thing junior year, he came here to investigate.”

Not what he was asking, but a very telling answer.

“Okay, and when's the last time you saw him in his capacity as your dad? Hell, when's the last time you spoke to him? Does he even know about Cora?”

Scott evades the questions, which again: telling.

“He's my dad though, doesn't that kind of mean I have to invite him?”

Stiles snorts. As if.

“I don't see why. Sure, he's 50 % of your genepool, but is he really your dad? I mean, I can't remember the last time he and you shared anything other than your last name, and we both know that's not going to be true for much longer.”

“Yeah, okay, you have a point. He's not getting an invite. That doesn't mean we're eloping though, Stiles. Cora deserves a proper wedding, and I'm going to give her that. Now, you convince her that eloping's a good idea and we can talk about it again, but I'm not risking making her mad at me just because you don't want to subject yourself to Isaac. At least Jackson won't be invited?”

“Small favors, man. Small favors.”

There's another one of Scott's agreement noises before the conversation had moved on.

Of course, Cora had been an even tougher nut to crack than Scott, and Stiles had retreated ungracefully once she'd started threatening his balls.

Really, there was no need to go there. If for no other reason, well, shouldn't she leave the goods intact for Derek's sake?

Of course, Stiles can understand why she's unwilling to let go of the only Hale tradition she still can have, namely getting married in the preserve and in the presence of pack. Every Hale has done so for over 200 years, before they were even called Hale.

(Stiles listens to Derek explain, haltingly, and decides to admit defeat. At least Derek's willing to bypass that tradition, should they one day decide to marry. He'll take that win and stop pestering Cora.)

So, anyway. There's no talking the lovely couple into eloping. Which means like it or not – and trust him, it's not – Stiles is going back. Because it's Scott.

There's also the fact that in a strange way Stiles has waited for this wedding as long as Scott has. When he and Derek had gotten back together the plan had been for Cora to graduate, then take over the Alpha spark and the pack. Two years had felt long, but doable.

And then Cora had asked for more time.

She'd gone straight from school to working at the Beacon Hills sheriff's department and had felt she needed to adjust a little better to that before taking on something new. It'd been reasonable, and more importantly: Derek had been almost unable to deny his sister anything after getting her back from the dead (except you know, figuratively speaking, unlike a certain other family member).

So they'd talked it over and agreed to give Cora another year, moving the transfer to after the wedding. It makes, Stiles thinks, for one hell of a wedding present. If that's good or bad, eh. Who knows.

He'd taken on more classes in order to have a distraction, had worked himself to the point of exhaustion more than once, and nearly driven the people around him crazy. It'd been more than a little overkill, he admits now, but it had kept him from missing Derek too much. It also means he'll be able to slow down a little his final year.

Or take on whatever shiny but totally unnecessary new class catches his eye, probably, but. He pretends he'll take it easy. Derek pretends to believe him. Derek's also made it clear he's going to move to Seattle once he can leave Beacon Hills, and stay there as long as Stiles does. They both pretend it's not partially to keep Stiles from studying himself into the hospital.

Anyway. He's just, you know, going to have to count small favors. The first one being that Jackson really isn't invited. The second is that Lydia, who was, isn't coming either. Once Stiles had gotten over his crush on her he'd kept a measure of fond respect for the person he'd learned existed behind Lydia's facades, even though they'd never really become friends. That didn't change the fact that her not coming was a relief – she's too smart, sees too much, and he would hate for her to figure things out.

Another person not coming is Danny who's transferred his allegiance to the pack near his college where he's, completely coincidentally Stiles is sure, dating the Alpha's grandson. He'd been invited as a courtesy, but told he couldn't bring his boyfriend, and had wisely chosen not to accept. Cora hates him, and he apparently knows it, and Scott isn't to fond of him either.

Those really are small favors though.

A slightly bigger one is the fact that Deaton isn't coming. Not only does he no longer live in Beacon Hills, but he hasn't been invited. While no one had been able to prove that there had been magic on Scott, his opinions on both Derek and Deaton had changed a little too much for comfort after first moving away and then beginning to meditate. Even Scott had noticed, and gotten suspicious.

In the end there had been no protests from Scott as Derek and Cora had ended Deaton's lease of the land for his practice – land he had been granted use of as the Hale pack's emissary and then had kept using free of charge since the fire, knowing he wasn't keeping to the agreement. Once he'd been called on it, Deaton had packed up, sold his home, and moved away.

No one misses him – not even Scott.

However none of that changes the fact that Beacon Hills still has Peter Hale, who is most certainly both invited to the wedding and attending, and who Stiles still sees as a threat. Because, well, he's not stupid.

Peter Hale will stop being a threat the day he dies, and maybe not even then. (Next time, Stiles has promised himself, he's going to make sure Peter gets the Aiden treatment.)

And Stiles is going to willingly place himself within striking distance from said threat, without a protector on hand.

He hadn't even thought about it at first, just assuming he'd have Embry to keep him safe, but it hadn't taken long to realize that bringing Embry to Scott's wedding wasn't an option.

First of all there's the fact that while neither Derek or Cora can feel the supernatural in the LaPush 'wolves unless they're shifting Peter might. Peter, who's not only older and has had the kind of training Derek never got but who also has access to a lot of the Hale pack's lore which Derek had thought lost in the fire. Stiles isn't willing to take a chance on that knowledge not containing something to help Peter identify the LaPush shifters. (This is, incidentally, one of the reasons Stiles is happy Deaton is gone. He too knows too much for Stiles to trust he wouldn't be able identify another kind of shifter.)

Second there's the fact that every single pack member is visibly Native American, and there are only so many tribes. Peter – or Danny for that matter, even though he's not going to be present, but he's more of an annoyance – could locate Stiles far too easily easily with that kind of information.

There's also the fact that Embry would be on a hair trigger simply because Stiles will be, and might shift and expose them.

Most importantly though is that bringing what would look like a plus one to Cora's wedding would be an insult. Not just to her, who's only just gotten to the point where she accepts that Stiles is in her brother's life for good, but also to Derek. Yes, everyone who matters knows that Embry's relationship with Stiles is as platonic as can be, but that doesn't change anything. They smell enough like each other for wolfy noses to know they're not casual acquaintances, and chances are there would be quite a bit of ribbing and speculation. Derek shouldn't have to listen to that, or for that matter look at Stiles walking around with another man when he himself has to hide what they are to each other. Desire for protection or not, Stiles just isn't willing to do that to Derek.

It's possible that Embry could have skated by as the son of John Stilinski's fiancée – and wow, Stiles still hasn't gotten used to referring to Tiffany Call that way (and damn, does that make him glad that he and Embry are platonic, because that's a little to incestuous even as is). Scott would have been okay with both of them coming, had even brought it up, but everyone involved is aware that it'd make Melissa feel uncomfortable. Regardless, Tiffany's not coming either. Like with Embry there's no way of hiding that she's native, making her too easily identifiable. There's also the fact that it just isn't safe.

Tiffany is many things, and a stronger woman than most, but she's not a fighter. If things go wrong she would be vulnerable, and a liability.

Bringing someone other than Embry means the same risk of discovery.

So instead of a werewolf bodyguard or ten Stiles has his dad.

Yeah.

There's also the fact that in the interest of keeping secrets Stiles can't even use the silver lining of more time with Derek. Letting anyone from that pack know of their connection is bad, but the thought of letting Peter know makes Stiles's blood run cold. That means he's going to be within minutes of his boyfriend for days, and yet he's not going to get hugs, or kisses, or a bedpartner. He's going to be at a wedding along with his romantic partner, while pretending he's single.

Yeah.

It's going to suck.

O--o---o--O

The wedding is missing a lot of traditional parts. It's understandable, really, and not just because both bride and groom along with several guests are werewolves. It's just... Cora doesn't have a father to give her away, or dance with her. She doesn't have a mother to support her, an inherited dress or heirloom jewelry. She doesn't have a best friend to be her maid of honor. What she's got is a brother whose Alpha she'll be within days and an uncle that she doesn't trust as far as she can throw him. Or well, as far as Stiles could throw him.

So they adjust.

No one gives Cora away. Instead she and Scott walk up the isle – isle, forest path, same thing – together. Neither of them have attendants, and Melissa McCall's wedding dress stays in its garment bag.

The wedding is small and intimate, with only a handful of guests outside of the pack – Stiles, John, Melissa, abuela Delgado and two 'wolves from Cora's South American pack. It takes place in a glade just on the edge of the preserve and the only decorations are wild flowers and boughs of leaves.

It's scaled-down, but also beautiful in its simplicity, because no one can doubt that these are two people who love each other deeply.

Stiles has to blink away tears at more than one time. His friend, his brother, is promising to love, cherish and honor his girl, and is being promised the same in return. There's not a doubt in Stiles's mind that when they swear to do so until death do them part they mean it. This, he knows, is Scott's life now. It's the life and future he deserves. It's enough to make Stiles's heart swell with love.

And then it hits him. With a little luck that'll be him in a not too distant future. He has to look away not to betray himself by staring lovingly at Derek.

Stiles walks through the door to the cabin he's sharing with his dad. He's tired, both because of emotion and vigilance. His dad's still back at the wedding, catching up with Melissa, but Stiles doesn't have the energy. He's spent the day keeping one eye on the pack, and Peter in particular, and generally hating that he's back in Beacon Hills while loving that he's able to be here for Scott.

It's been exhausting.

Just about everyone else is still celebrating, but once Scott and Cora had left to change clothes and go on their honeymoon Stiles had left too. Pretending that he doesn't want to kill Peter, or kiss Derek, has taken it out of him and he can't do it any longer. He's going back home tomorrow and he can't spend another minute being that close to Derek without being able to be with him. That it'll be at least a month, probably two or more, before he can see Derek again is making it even harder.

As far as everyone but him and Derek knows Scott and Cora are going on an actual honeymoon, for a whole month. The truth is that they'll be gone for a week before sneaking back. The rest of the time will be spent in recovery and training after Derek transfers the Alpha spark. Cora will come back as the new Hale Alpha, but that doesn't mean Derek will be free to leave.

There will be unrest in a pack with a new Alpha, even under the best of circumstances, and these – as so often for them – are not. Cora will need Derek by her side, to support her and calm the pack. Maybe she'll also need him to help take down threats thinking to take advantage of a novice Alpha. Maybe they'll have to deal with Peter...

It'll be a little while yet before Derek will be free of Beacon Hills.

So Stiles is sad, and he's got a headache and he just wants to take some pills, text Embry some and then sleep.

After he's re-ringed the cabin with mountain ash of course.

Stiles pulls his phone out of its pocket, takes off his jacket and goes to throw it at the chair before thinking twice. It's a decent suit jacket and if he treats it right he won't need to go suit shopping again in years. Coat hanger it is.

He turn towards the clothes rack, his brain three steps ahead, and hits a wall, his phone clattering to the floor.

Only there's no wall there.

He scrambles backwards, trying to put as much space as he can between himself and the threat and swears. The door is out of reach and he's trapped.

“Hello Stiles.”

Fuck.

“Peter.”

He flicks through scenarios in his head, trying to figure out how to get out of this, but he keeps running into mental walls.

Stiles is a lot better trained than when he left Beacon Hills, in ways Peter knows nothing about. Under the right circumstances he might have a chance.

These are not.

He's in close quarters with Peter, unable to reach the door before the 'wolf can get to him. He's mostly unarmed due to being dressed for a wedding, and what he does have isn't as easily accessible as he'd like.

Plus it's Peter.

Stiles is going to assume that everything he thinks he knows about Peter's skills and strength is wrong. To do anything else would be to sign his own death warrant. Derek might be clouded by memories of “uncle Peter”, but Stiles has never forgotten the psychopathic killer he'd first encountered.

No, training or no training, Stiles's one real advantage is having a pack, and what being part of it means. Unfortunately he has no idea if it'll be enough.

“Shouldn't you be with the pack, or, I don't know, in your own home? Not breaking and entering somewhere you're definitely not welcome.”

“Oh, but it's not breaking and entering if you have a key.” Which, fuck, did Peter kill someone to get his hands on a backup key? “Besides, I didn't get a chance to talk to you earlier. It's been so long, Stiles, won't you humor me? We're practically old friends, are we not? It'll be like old times.”

“You're crazy.”

“Now now Stiles. That's not very nice of you.”

Stiles snorts, because nice? Not really in his wheelhouse.

“You think I care? When it comes to you? Come now, I said crazy, not stupid.”

Because unfortunately Peter is anything but, making him even more dangerous. Still, the wolf just smirks a little at Stiles's defiance.

“I'm afraid that answer just isn't acceptable. See, I really do need to talk to you. Or well, I need you. I'd like it if you talked to me, but I'll manage either way. You however... You really would do well to humor me.”

Then Peter looks at him, and oh shit. His eyes are flashing back and forth between the electric blue that had looked so good on Derek and a sickly red.

It takes nothing to figure it out.

Peter had called him the clever one, and meant it in a mocking way. But the reality is that Stiles is clever, and knows how to put puzzle pieces together.

And these particular puzzle pieces... Peter came back to life using not only Lydia but also Derek – had drained Derek of life and strength and power, and had tried to steal the Alpha power too.

And afterwards Derek had changed. Had grown more volatile, more likely to hurt someone – more unstable.

Stiles is willing to bet Peter had had a bit more success than they'd realized, that he'd managed to siphon off some of the Alpha power and keep it.

That would explain why Derek had acted the way he had. Why he'd been so easily influenced by the pack's negativity. Why Derek had sometimes acted more like Peter than like himself.

It would definitely explain how the Alpha power had become this unstable, negative force in Derek that he felt was fighting him. He is sharing it with Peter. And apparently Peter is done sharing. Stiles is uncomfortably aware of exactly how little defense he has to put up in regards to a Peter who is no longer hiding his power, who is no longer playing weak and damaged.

The only reason he's still alive is so Peter can use him against Derek.

Because even holding a part of the Hale Alpha spark Peter isn't going to just challenge Derek for the rest of it, or meet him in a fair fight. It's not how he works. Peter doesn't believe in fair, and wants the odds as weighted in his favor as possible. Using Stiles as bait, or whatever, is a way of doing that. There's also the fact that Derek has been getting stronger and better as an Alpha, leaving Peter needing every advantage he could. Even an ambush might not give him the upper hand.

Well, Stiles is going to do what he can to even out the odds a bit.

It helps that he has no reason to believe Peter will let him go after killing Derek. He'll either be dead too, or bitten without concern for his wishes, and forced to obey Peter. His dad will probably be used against him – or, again, killed outright.

Not fighting won't save him – it'll only make it easier for Peter.

“You kept some of the Alpha spark after using Derek to come back to life.”

“Ah. You really are clever. Too bad you've always wasted that cleverness on my failure of a beta and my useless nephew. Yes, I kept some. It should have been mine altogether, but something went wrong.

“Doesn't matter though, because I'm getting it back. I'm getting it all back tonight.”

Stiles stiffens. That sounds really not good.

“I was willing to be patient. To wait for it. Derek isn't made to be Alpha, and I've always known that sooner or later he'd get himself killed, especially the way kept attracting hunters. I could wait. After all, I had enough power to get through most. Especially after getting a little boost.”

That's what happened to miss Blake, Stiles thinks. He doesn't say anything though. It's not time to upset the balance. Not yet.

“It was possible one of the others would have had enough and killed him, but chances were the Alpha spark would have gone to me either way. If not,” Peter shrugs, “a new Alpha, who doesn't know how to deal with the change in their senses? Easy to kill.”

Stiles can see it happen just like that too, unfortunately.

“Everything was going according to plan too, with Derek growing more and more unstable. Given a little more time I might even have been able to talk him into giving up the spark voluntarily.” Like hell he would have. “And then my dear, dear niece came back to life.”

There's something in Peter's voice with couple with the moue he makes that gives Stiles another flash of insight.

“You resent Cora for being alive. You resent her for surviving the fire.”

Peter almost slips into a roar.

“She abandoned me!”

“She was a child! I know you were trained to hide from hunters, to go to ground and stay there until the threat was over. Are you blaming her for doing what she's been told?”

“You go to ground, yes. And then you come back. You don't abandon your pack.”

And wow, hearing that shit from the wolf who killed one niece, tried to kill a nephew, and had just explained how he had been waiting to try again... Yeah, Peter Hale is a hypocrite on top of being fucking insane.

“She abandoned us, and then when she comes crawling back,” which, totally not how it had actually happened, “that useless weakling wants to reward her for it by passing the Alpha spark to her. And they expect me to just take it?”

Fuck. The biggest flaw in the plan had always been the risk of Peter finding out and getting mad. There are contingency plans, sure, but none of them counted for quite this.

“I should have been Alpha after Talia. Laura was just as weak, just as unsuitable, as Derek. She didn't have it in her to take vengeance for our family – she just ran. It should have been me. It would have been me, had I not been burnt so badly.”

Peter's eyes are flickering between red and blue again, but the light in them has nothing to do with the 'wolf. It's insanity, and Stiles makes a quick judgment call.

He's never going to be able to outfight Peter. What he needs is to keep him of guard, while hoping for help to reach him. And as dangerous as it might be, the best way is to go after Peter's ego.

He's calm and collected in a way he rarely is as his brain starts listing sore points to hit.

He starts off by laughing, startling Peter out of his self-righteous rant.

“I might have to take back what I said about you not being stupid. You really think you should have been Alpha over Laura? Dude, you are delusional. You not becoming Alpha after the fire had nothing to do with you burning, and everything to do with the fact that you're a monster. Hell, the only way you had a shot at Alpha-hood was to steal it.

“Derek's fucked up plenty, yes, but even on his worst days he's better than you. He at least is sane.”

His words are working, Stiles can see it, and he continues to taunt the 'wolf.

“In fact, should Derek die today? You're not even in the running to become the next Alpha. It'll be Cora, or Scott if she's not an option either. Hell, even Isaac is a better candidate for Alpha than you and I really don't like that guy. No, you're going to have to kill the rest of your family and the new Hale pack along with them to even have a shot.

“Fuck, if I was that Alpha spark? I'd leave the Hale line – hell, existence even – completely over settling in you. You're simply too corrupt.

“You speak of Derek and Laura not being worthy of the Alpha spark. The truth is that you're the one that's unworthy. The world truly will be a better place once you're dead.”

Peter's eyes flicker back and forth and Stiles is actually kind of surprised he's not already dead. Maybe Peter still thinks he can get something out of keeping him alive.

“Brave words, Stiles, but that's all they are. Words. You don't understand what it's like to be a werewolf, what it means to be in a pack. But I'll make sure you do. Before the sun rises I'll be the Alpha, and like it or not you're going to help me. And as a reward I'll give you what you wanted but were afraid to say yes to all those years ago.

“Once my useless nephew is out of the picture you'll be my beta. Part of my pack. And you'll be good to me, won't you Stiles? After all, you have...experience in being good to your Alpha, don't you?” Peter's voice is silky-sweet around the words, and Stiles shudders with disgust.

What Peter is hinting at is never going to happen, not even if Stiles has to kill himself to make sure it doesn't. Yes, he's made some pretty harsh statements about what was between him and Derek, but not even at the lowest point did that make him feel as dirty as Peter's mere words are doing now.

At the same time Stiles is willing to put money on the fact that Peter doesn't really mean what he's saying. Oh, he might follow through, especially if he leaves Derek alive, but this isn't about any kind of want or desire. This is about scaring Stiles, about rattling him, about making him beg.

He's not going to do that.

“Fuck no.”

“Tsk, tsk. You'll sing a different tune once you're in my pack.”

Stiles laughs again, short and sharp, putting as much mockery as he can muster in it.

“Your pack? You don't have a pack. You'll never have a pack. All you've got, Peter, is two people who shares blood with you and who pity you too much to put you down like the animal you are.

“Really, where's an Argent when you need them?”

That does it. Peter's claws pop, his teeth lengthen and his eyes shine like lasers. Only one of them will walk away from this, and Stiles has finally managed to tip the scales enough that it just might be him. Of course, even almost out of his mind with rage Peter does have some control – he hasn't howled, for instance, keeping it in as to not warn anyone. Stiles's chance is tiny, and it mostly depends on outside factors, but unlike five minutes ago it exists.

Now he just has to be right about a number of factors.

Luckily he is.

The window breaks, glass splintering and flying across the cabin. Peter jerks back as a big furry shape follows and Stiles hurries to to put his back against a corner. Chances are that Peter will win this fight so he's not safe yet, but he's certainly safer than he was a minute ago.

No one had been happy with Stiles going back without Embry. Hell, Stiles hadn't been happy about it. Had it been an option he would have brought the entire pack with him – preferably both even. Jake'd been on the verge of laying down an Alpha order about Stiles and John not going on their own for weeks, the only thing stopping him being the safety of LaPush. Instead he had had to stop basically the entire pack from sneaking off to follow them, same for Sam.

The compromise had been one 'wolf. There had been a fight over who got to go, and even Leah – who still think Stiles is being an idiot – had wanted to go. Of course, Leah is also finally pregnant and no one wants to put her and the baby at risk. (Plus, she's not feeling that great. The phrase “sick as a dog” takes on a new light when you've seen a horse sized shape shifter with violent morning sickness, Stiles decided after seeing Leah sick up to the point where she phased out of her wolf form and fainted. Yuck.)

Embry still hadn't been allowed to go, and Stiles knows why, knows that Jake has a point in claiming Embry's bond to Stiles would cause him to be on edge and risk exposing them in more ways than one. That doesn't make it easier to deal with though.

Stiles wishes with all his being that it could have been Embry.

Instead it had been decided that Collin, as the most harmless looking one, should go and play hapless tourist. He had arrived in Beacon Hills a couple of days ago, and as far as Stiles knows no one's picked up on anything strange about him or his story.

Of course, with Collin being one of the youngest and least experienced 'wolves he's not the one Stiles would have wanted in a fight against Peter Hale.

All he really is is a distraction, but it does gives Stiles a chance. While Peter's attention is on the giant 'wolf Stiles slowly eases the hidden blade from his sleeve and then carefully rips open his cuff.

The mountain ash concealed in the cuff does as it's meant to and falls into his hand. Now he's got a chance.

Provided nothing has gone to hell in the last couple of hours there is at least one other 'wolf near, able to warn others. If it has and they're on their own, then there's always howling.

All Stiles needs to do is get up a barrier and they'll have some breathing room. He just needs some distance between Collin and Peter.

At first the giant 'wolf is causing Peter to be cautious, but it doesn't take long for the man to realize he's the strongest of them. The wolf shape is excellent for fighting and killing vampires, but less so when it comes to another type of werewolf.

Collin yips in pain and Peter strikes again. This time he lands a powerful blow that throws Collin across the cabin. He lands heavily, with a whine, and doesn't get up. Stiles swallows as he sees blood pooling out from the still body.

A 'wolf can heal just about anything, given time. Peter won't give them that though. He's already stalking across the floor with blood dripping from his claws and a sadistic smile on his face. He's fast enough that he could have crossed before Stiles knew what was happening. This slow walk is just a show, meant to intimidate Stiles.

Too bad it just gives him the time he needs.

“You've been keeping secrets. I'll enjoy dragging them out of you.”

It's a promise, meant to invoke, and it works. But Stiles has gotten used to pushing down his fear and working through it, and so he looks Peter straight in the eyes and quips.

“Didn't your Alpha teach you not to play with your prey?”

And then he throws the mountain ash.

He's practiced this very moment over and over until he doesn't need to walk the perimeter, or to have “enough” ash. All he needs is a little bit and his belief.

He's never believed anything this hard before.

“Mountain ash? Always the clever one, aren't you? But your little trick won't save you, or your friend there. You can only hold the barrier for so long, and I can be a very patient man.

“It would be wise of you not to test that patience though. Sooner or later your father will walk through that door, and I would hate to kill him just to prove a point.”

Like he'd let any of them live either way.

“Here's the thing, Peter. You would be wise to leave now. Who knows, run fast enough, far enough, and you might even live to regret your actions here tonight. Because Game of Thrones might be shit about a lot of things, but they're dead right about: 'the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives'. And you, Peter. You're all alone.”

“You think you're pack? You, my useless nephew's even more useless fucktoy? Don't make me laugh.

“Since you're apparently too stupid to realize, I've got you trapped in here. You've got no way to call for help,” and he steps on Stiles's phone, grinding it to components to make a point, “your supposed savior is out like a light, dying as we speak, and your mountain ash barrier is weakening by the minute.”

It's not. Stiles can feel that it's still just as strong, but it's a good tactic, trying to shake the belief holding it together.

“That poor fool is even more of an idiot than that useless beta of mine. He didn't even howl for help. Not that he would have gotten any, but he didn't even try. Pathetic.”

Stiles smirks. No, Collin hadn't howled. But with the LaPush pack mind he didn't need to, not being shifted.

“Peter? This is the 21st century. Proper 'wolves use cellphones just like the rest of us.

And then in a show of timing almost too good to be true Seth and Brady jumps through the broken window as Derek – followed by Cora – break through the door.

Stiles almost sobs with relief. Having Collin arrive had been such a help, but it hadn't really made him feel safe. Not when up against Peter Hale. The same goes for Brady. They're his friends, yes, but they're the most inexperienced of the 'wolves and they're Sam's. Seth is, well, he's not that much more experienced but he's pack. That matters.

It's not the fact that they're four against one that calms Stiles, or even that Derek is there – it's the presence of pack.

He still wishes Embry was with him, but now he dares to believe he'll see his 'wolf again.

Peter is actually looking stunned, faced with another two giant wolves. And is that a hint of fear Stiles sees? It could be. After all Peter has to realize that while Derek and Cora might be swayed to spare him out of sentimentality, these new and unknown wolves have no such compunctions. Stiles wonders if the crazed 'wolf sees his death in their arrival.

He hopes so.

The four circle Peter, cutting of all routes of escape. If he wants to leave he'll have to go through them, and that's not as easy as fighting Collin might lead Peter to believe. They don't attack though and Stiles can't help but think his 'wolves are holding back out of consideration for Derek, and to a lesser degree Cora.

Seth and Brady both know that Peter needs to die, but Derek has had a hard time reconciling with the fact that killing Peter had been necessary the first time. He hasn't even wanted to entertain the idea that it might be needed a second time, and might want to give Peter a chance to surrender.

Or it's just about waiting for the right moment. Regardless Stiles finds himself unable to watch what is about to come. Strange. He'd had no problem watching Peter die the first time, had thrown Molotov cocktails at him and watched Derek rip his throat out without regret. He has been certain Peter needs to die again since about 5 seconds after finding out he was back.

And yet he finds he can't watch.

As Peter lounges, desperately, towards Brady – either having identified him as the easiest target or unwilling to attack his remaining blood family – Stiles burrows his face into Collins fur and tries to shut it all out. They're safe behind the mountain ash barrier, and their friends will take care of Peter without them. They're safe, the barrier will hold, their friends will live, and Peter will die.

Stiles's world shrinks down to those four things, trying to will it into existence.

They're safe. The sound of a large body hitting the wall.

The barrier will hold. A grunt as claws strike flesh.

Their friends will survive. A high-pitched whine and the smell of blood.

Peter will die. A howl rises, then cuts out and is replaced by silence.

Derek and Cora are curled up together, shaking and crying and laughing all at once, both their eyes flashing between red and beta blue or gold. Stiles looks at them and feels a sting. Not jealousy, precisely, because he's got Seth, and Brady, and he's pretty sure Embry is a lot closer to Beacon Hills than Jake really likes, just...

Derek won't be coming back with him.

Stiles knew that already, knew that Cora would be vulnerable after the transfer of power, and that having Derek essentially break away straight after wasn't going to happen. They'd talked about it repeatedly and made their plans accordingly.

It's even more true now, with the added trauma of Peter's betrayal and death, causing her to lose a pack member already that day along with half of her remaining blood family.

For her to lose Derek on top of that... No. Stiles doesn't wish that on anyone. Cora needs to stabilize herself, find her balance again, and both siblings need to be allowed to grieve.

Again, it's no surprise that Derek will be staying in Beacon Hills for a while. It's just... It was abstract before. Now it's right there in his face, and Stiles realizes he wasn't prepared.

Looking at Derek and Cora he also realizes that regardless of what they've said, what they've promised, there's a possibility that Derek will change his mind now that the moment is here. It's possible that Beacon Hills without Peter will be tempting enough that Derek will start seeing it as his home again. It's possible that he will decide that staying with Cora, and the pack he started, is more important than being with Stiles.

If he does... It'll hurt. It'll even hurt like hell. But if it's one thing Stiles has learned it's this: he can live through that, can heal from it, because he won't be alone. Even if he doesn't have Derek he'll have Embry, and his pack.

But that's not how Stiles sees it happening. Not after everything they've been through to get to where they are.

Derek is going to grieve with his sister, and help her settle, and when he's ready he'll leave Beacon Hills, leave their own personal Hellmouth, and come back to Stiles.

Because that's where they're headed, full circle. When they're both ready things will be different. This time around it'll be Derek joining Stiles's pack. There will be no begging, no miscommunication, no posturing, no self-hatred and no Alpha crap. It'll just be Stiles and Derek, healed and happy and together, trying their very best to love each other and not do anything stupid.

It'll be great.

Stiles believes it with all that he has and is. And his belief? Is magic.

~ The End ~

#chocoholic fics #...asd #teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #twilight crossover #...as stupid does #in 2021 we finish our wips #stupid 'verse

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maevemarethyu · 4 years ago

Text

Unexpected (2/?)

You weren’t expecting it. Neither of you were.

That didn’t mean you weren’t happy with how it ended.

Warnings: Cheating, Threats, Sad Boi Hour, Heatbreak, I’m not quite sure what else.

Steve and Sam are waiting for Bucky when he walks into the shared living room; looking every part of a pair of worried parents. The familiarity of it lifts a weight from his shoulders. Meeting you hadn’t been what he expected, then again, he didn’t know what he was expecting in the first place.

He only knew that you weren’t it and he was glad.

“How’d it go? You rushed outta here before either of us could stop you.” Steve worries, resting a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. Steve had been there for him for as long as Barnes could remember and Sam had been a rock keeping the two old men above water in the new age.

“Y/N is something.” He mutters cryptically as he crashes onto the couch, mind swirling as he tries to make sense of everything that had happened. The lack of elaboration has his friends looking at him for an explanation.

“Something as in good or something as in she threw something at you and called you a liar before chasing your ass away from her house.” Sam asks, taking the seat next to Barnes and earning a glare.

Good. You were definitely good despite your very bad situation. He had run to you half cocked with no plan and laid what was probably the worst news possible on you while your kid was asleep in the other room.

“She- They- a kid. She has a daughter named Laysa. Four weeks old.” Disbelief laces his voice. He could understand why Claire would cheat on him; he was a broken weapon made by HYDRA with more issues than Time Magazine. But, you?

He couldn’t understand why anyone would cheat on you. You were beautiful and thoughtful and the brief glimpse he’d caught of the fire in your eyes made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to elaborate on for a long while.

And you had a child. Patrick had a family with you; a domestic life Claire had snubbed Bucky for desiring.

“What?” Steve says through grit teeth. The Captain was like his friend; he too wanted to eventually settle down and start a family. When they were younger, the two Brooklyn boys had it all planned out. They’d marry the loves of their lives and get houses side by side; their kids would grow up together and they’d take turns having Sunday brunches at each other’s houses till they were old and gray.

The dream may have been postponed a few decades but, when Bucky told Steve about proposing to his long-time girlfriend, he was happier than he could ever remember being. After all the shit HYDRA put him through, he was glad Buck had found a nice girl like Claire.

How wrong he had been.

“You did the right thing telling her. She deserved to know.” Sam adds but, Bucky just shakes his head.

“I could have worded it better.” He admits, twisting the ring on his finger. “She opened the door and I blanked. Then I basically yelled it in her face: Your husband is fucking my wife.”

He watches Steve’s face go red from secondhand embarrassment and Sam fails in holding back a laugh but, they all fall silent when someone clears their throat. Barnes feels the hairs on the back of his neck raise as he reluctantly turns to face the new person in the room. A person he had purposefully left out of this because A. She was on a mission and B. He thought she would raise hell when she found out.

“Hey Nat…” Steve coughs awkwardly.

Fresh off a hard mission, covered in scrapes and bruises, and scowl on her face; Natasha Romanoff looked ready to raise all seven layers of hell.

“Someone. Explain.” She asks calmly… too calmly. It unnerves the three men in the worst way possible and Bucky’s explaining the situation before his brain can catch up. Once he’s finished, the woman simply mutters an okay before walking out of the room and leaving the trio speechless.

She returns a minute later in a fresh change of clothes and is stuffing knives in different pockets of her pants.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks, curious and worried at the same time.

“I’m going to fucking kill them.” She announces, making her way to the door. If it were anyone else, Barnes would have thought it was a joke but, he knew Natasha. He knew what happened to people that hurt her family and, even thought he loathed himself for it, he still cared about Claire.

“Natalia.” She stops with a huff when Bucky calls her name. “Please, don’t.”

For once, she doesn’t fight him and she instead takes a seat on the armchair across from him.

“If I ever see her again, I will not hesitate. I mean it Bucky.”

“She doesn’t even know I know yet. Neither of them do. Y/N wants to wait until her divorce papers are ready.” Her green eyes soften at his obvious pain. In all the years they’d known each other, she’d never seen him like this. “Her friends are lawyers and she asked if I wanted to meet them with her tomorrow.”

“I hope you said yes.” To his surprise, its Steve that says it. Out of everyone in this room, he’d have thought Steve would be the one handing out second chances. In a messed-up way, he was glad the courtesy didn’t extend to cheating spouses.

“I did. We’re meeting for breakfast.” He nods, and the three Avengers let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Mr. Barnes.” FRIDAY’s voice echoes in the silent room. “There is a Miss Y/N Voight calling for you. Should I take a message?”

As soon as the AI says your name, his breath catches in his throat and his mind goes straight to the worst-case scenario: Patrick came home and something happened to either you or Laysa.

“No, you can patch her through Fri.”

There’s a shuffle over the speakers before your voice is heard.

“Hello? James?” To his relief, you didn’t sound any more distressed than you were when he left.

“I’m here Y/N. I’ve got Steve, Sam, and Nat here with me. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, hi other Avengers. Yeah, it’s just that I called Matt’s secretary and explained the situation. She told me to bring any official pre-nuptial documents with us tomorrow and figured I should let you know but, I didn’t have your number. Had to call the station to get this one.”

He didn’t like the idea of you calling your husband’s place of work but, you didn’t sound bothered by it and he hopes its because you managed to avoid talking to him directly.

“Секретарь? Я думал, вы сказали, что юристы - ее друзья.” The secretary? I thought you said the lawyers are her friends. Natasha asks in her mother tongue, a habit she and Barnes had gotten into whenever they needed to have a private conversation, and the man shrugs.

“Они мои лучшие друзья и заботятся обо мне.” They're my best friends and, they care about me. You reply without missing a beat, catching everyone in the room off guard. “If I tell them before tomorrow, nothing is stopping them from finding and maiming Pat… my soon-to-be ex-husband. You aren’t the only one with scary friends Barnes.”

Your words were so brazen that Bucky could picture you sitting on the phone with a smirk on your face as clear as day and a grin finds its way onto his face; earning a curious glance from Steve.

“Anyways, I’ve gotta go. Laysa’s fussing.” Sure enough, a sharp cry comes from the speaker. “I’ll see you tomorrow James and, I guess goodnight everyone else? Keep up the good work? Bye.”

When the call ends, everyone’s eyes turn to Bucky and he keeps his head down. It was kind of you to risk a confrontation with your husband to help him get prepared for tomorrow. He couldn’t imagine being kind in a situation like yours. You had a child to worry about through this; you had every right to be bitter.

“Fri. Can you print out-“

“Already on it Mr. Barnes.” The AI announces and, not for the first time, Bucky is grateful for Tony’s stubbornness. If it weren’t for Stark there wouldn’t be any pre-nuptial documents. James had thought it a waste of time when it was first brought up but, it looks like he’d need to thank the billionaire once more for forcing him to sign the papers.

“She sounded oddly cheery for someone who just found out their husband was cheating on them.” Sam frowns, causing Bucky to look at him in confusion.

Did Sam not hear the way your voice cracked when you mentioned calling the station? Could he not tell you had just cried your voice hoarse? Was he oblivious to you attempt of covering up your pain with thinly veiled humor?

No, you were not cheery. You were shattered, just like him but, you were trying your best to seem put together. He could see right through you. His friends though, they didn’t seem as attuned to your sorrow.

“We all process grief differently. For all we know, she’s still in shock.” Steve reasons, ever the mediator.

“She sounds like she has her hands full.” Natasha hums in agreement. “She’s probably focused all of her attention on the baby. I know it helped Laura whenever Clint was away on missions.”

You were coping, in your own way. Barnes decided to take your lead, standing from his seat.

“Heading to bed Buck?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you all in the morning.” He lies before leaving in the direction of his room. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, not with the images of Claire and Patrick burned into his eyelids so, he bypasses his bedroom and makes his way to the gym a floor below. He hated lying to his friends but, they were like yours, they cared about him almost too much. They were always so eager to help and he was grateful for it, really, but sometimes he needed to be alone in order to work through whatever problem he was having. The man liked his solitude.

When Bucky had told Steve he wanted his own apartment, the blonde nearly had a conniption but, he eventually relented and together they had found a place not too far from the compound. Right now, he was missing his little slice of solitude.

Thankfully, the gym is deserted when he arrives and, as he sets up a punching bag, his mind wanders; remembering times when his life wasn’t so damn complicated. Back when he’d spend the afternoon looking down alleys to make sure Steve wasn’t getting his ass handed to him. Back when the most he had to worry about was whether to take Sally or Jane dancing that evening.

He can only stay in that headspace for so long before he’s back to reliving the worst moment of his new life. He had thought he finally got it right with Claire; he used to think she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, she was smart, a kick-ass agent, she made him feel like he was able to put himself together again with her help. She was too good for him and he used to think it was only him who thought it.

After years of being together, she’d finally thought it too.

A hard jab to the bag slices it open, pouring sand into his sneaker and he almost yells in frustration. Then he remembers you and the way you chucked your phone past his head without so much as a sound. His anger was explosive but, yours? Your anger was silent and seething; dare he say calculating.

He wondered if you’d look as lovely screaming as you did seething before shaking the thought from his head with wide eyes. Whenever he and Claire argued; whether or not she was pretty was the last thing on his mind.

Comparing you to his wife should have been the last thing on his mind but, no matter how hard he tried, your face was the one to pop up when he lost focus. He wasn’t upset by it thought, he’d much rather remember your face instead of Patrick and Claire’s in the throes of passion.

Yeah, he’d much rather remember how nice your smile was as you got your daughter’s bottle ready.

#bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic

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