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rosemaidenvixen · 1 year

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Both Sides of the Sky

Chapter 7: Lughnasadh

Ao3

The Johnson family was one of middling wealth, they were well off enough to be certain that they would live in comfort for the rest of their days, but not so much to be considered truly wealthy.

Despite their secure social position, it seemed the Johnsons never stopped striving for more. Master Johnson’s attempts to force a relationship between Claire and his son Seamus were one example. Mistress Johnson’s end of summer parties were another.

Every August they all but went into debt lavishly decorating their admittedly spacious ballroom, inviting all of their neighbors to bask in the luxury. Indeed the decorations were lovely, crystal chandeliers and ribbons and floral garlands; the food divine, roast pheasant and barley soup, quince pies and lemon cakes. Mistress Johnson could be accused of many things but having poor taste was not one of them.

Every year people went and complimented them on the display with the Johnsons playing it off that this was how they lived every day, and not an event they spent all year scrimping and saving for, and every year no one was fooled. Forming a bizarre tradition in and of itself.

That being said, it certainly hadn’t dissuaded Master Johnson from his other ladder climbing pursuits.

Claire risked a peek from behind the large pillar. Master Johnson was still there, glancing furiously around the mingling crowd gathered in his ballroom, accompanied by a miserable looking Seamus.

She quickly ducked back into her hiding spot, hoping they hadn’t seen her. After word had spread of her weekly literature discussions with Jim, and despite her and her parents’ numerous rebuttals; Master Johnson had intensified his efforts to try and force a match between Claire and Seamus tenfold.

Was he truly oblivious to just how obvious it was he was only after her family’s money? Perhaps he simply didn’t care about subtlety anymore. Either way it wasn’t worth having him corner her.

Her knees were starting to ache from standing so long, Claire leaned back and gingerly rested her shoulders against the cool stone of the column, shifting from foot to foot to try and relieve the strain as she settled in to wait.

After a few minutes she risked another peek and caught a glimpse of Master Johnson moving away dragging Seamus in tow, a small sigh of relief escaping her lips. But before Claire could set foot out of her hiding spot, Mistress Johnson came sweeping through with a gaggle of female companions, sending Claire ducking back behind the column.

“My goodness Hannah you’ve simply outdone yourself this year,” one of them gushed “You simply must tell me where you bought these garlands,”

“Thank you thank you, I try,” Mistress Johnson replied, voice rich with faux modesty “I’m so glad all of you could make it,”

They all clucked in agreement.

“We almost didn’t come,” another woman said in an exasperated huff “Our youngest daughter tried to elope with a fisherman’s son, thankfully my husband was able to catch them before their ship left harbor and put a stop to that nonsense,”

The rest of the women tittered and cooed, pulling in around the woman and making consoling noises. Then Mistress Johnson cut in with a nasty sounding chuckle “At least your husband was able to catch them in time, I’ve heard that the Nuñez’s desperation to pair their daughter up with Lord Strickler’s boy isn’t because they’re after his family’s title so much as the fact the two may have become very well acquainted while they were lost in the woods together,”

Claire felt her face burning as the women roared with laughter, frozen in place behind her column. She had suspected the rumor mill to be churning, but having her suspicions confirmed still stung.

From out of nowhere another body sided next to her behind the column. Claire started to let out an undignified squeak before she remembered to smother it lest she give herself away. But as soon as she saw who it was most of her alarm drained away.

“Either be quiet or get your own hiding spot,” Krel hissed.

“I was here first,” Claire whispered back.

“I was here second!”

The two fell into silence as the titters of Mistress Johnson’s group swelled louder, both of them rigid against the pillar. Only when the giggles moved away did their tense shoulders slowly start to relax.

“Why are you here?” Claire asked in a low voice “Didn’t you say you’d rather get your eyebrows peeled off than go to another party?”

Krel’s already grumpy expression became even more sour “Unfortunately that wasn’t an option,”

Claire risked a peek around the pillar “Well you can at least grab some food, if you’re forced to entertain the company of others you may as well get a meal out of it,”

He made a show of folding his arms in front of his chest and settling back against the pillar “Not going to happen,”

“If you need a distraction I’ll get Varvatos to talk about his days in the war, all eyes in the room will be on him,”

“That’s not…” a pained gauntness washed over Krel’s features before he slumped forward and let out a gust of air “…Helen and Audrey are here,”

A wince flashed across Claire's face before she could stop it.

Krel had always been the subtle moth to her and Aja’s bright butterflies. While Claire and Aja had spent their childhood obsessed with running and shouting and loud play, sneaking away to play chaotic games of fantasy and adventure, Krel was was always the happiest sitting off to the side of Aja and Claire’s play, nose buried in a book or tinkering with his latest creation while the two of them romped. When asked Krel said he found the sound of play soothing, even if he had no desire to join in himself.

It wasn’t as though Krel was timid or lonely, indeed he’d never shied away from sharing his honest opinion when asked, rather he was simply a subdued person who was satisfied to be left to his own devices.

Claire and Aja had always accepted Krel’s quirks as they were, even if they didn’t understand them. But other children were much much crueler.

The boys were ruthless but the girls were much more vicious. Recently Helen Mansfield had come up with an especially cruel game, where she would corner Krel and pretend to flirt with him as a joke, a dare, a tease. Helen was dreadful enough on her own, but when she roped other girls and her younger sister Audrey into her teasing she became absolutely unbearable.

“Just say the word and I’ll pour punch all over her dress,”

“I can take care of myself.” a hint of a defensive edge crept into his voice.

Claire let out a very unladylike snort “Oh I know you’re more than a match for them. You can run rings around Helen with one hand tied behind your back. But if Aja ever learns that I left you to their antics she’ll hang me from the roof by my toenails,”

That got a tiny smile out of Krel “Aja would, wouldn’t she…”

The two of them shared a brief chuckle, then Claire spotted something from around the edge of the pillar.

James Strickler–

Jim

Striding across the room heading away from her.

Her heartbeat sped up, all thoughts of hiding forgotten.

“Actually the hiding spot is all yours, I’ve got something to do,”

Krel raised an eyebrow, surprise briefly overtaking his features before he smoothed them into casual indifference “Whatever, better you than me,”

Claire gave him a brief nod of thanks before darting out into the open. Making her way across the crowded room, ducking past shoulders and weaving through skirts, her eyes never once leaving Jim.

She knew he’d be at the Johnsons’ party, one of the few events Lord Strickler actually came down from on high to attend. And sneaking away to have a moment of privacy was significantly easier in a crowded party than in either of their families’ homes.

She’d been waiting to spot him all night, and now that she had her chance to talk to him alone in weeks she was not going to squander it.

Jim turned down a hall and headed away from the party proper. Claire hurried as much as she could without drawing undue attention and followed after him, the sounds of chatter and clinking glasses fading, light of the ballroom dimming into the gloom of the hallway as the party grew further and further away. Rounding a corner, she saw Jim stepping through a door out onto a balcony and hurried to follow.

Reaching the door Claire felt a giddy smile spreading across her face and raised a hand to grasp the knob–

Only to freeze when she heard Jim’s voice wafting in from the other side of the door.

“I told you, I don’t know why. They just told me what was going to happen,”

To her complete and utter shock a new voice spoke up in reply, but it was too low and soft for Claire to hear clearly.

Claire froze, hand poised in midair. Looks like Jim had the same idea as she did. But just who was he speaking with? She hadn’t seen anyone else come this way, and she didn’t recognize that voice–

“I...I’m not sure, when we first met Claire didn’t seem to like me, but now I think she wants to be my friend,”

Butterflies burst to life in her stomach at the mention of her name, and before she could think better of it Claire slid to her knees and pressed an ear against the door.

The other voice came again, still unintelligible but sounding more excited now.

“Yes, yes we did,” Jim replied ”We fell in the river and on our walk back we talked and rested together,”

Whatever butterflies she was feeling vanished as her entire body ignited in a hot flush. Jim might have earned some of her good graces. But if he thought that saving her from death by drowning permitted him to tell tales about what had occurred between them he had another thing coming.

All sense of decorum gone, Claire grabbed the knob and yanked the door open. Cool night air rushed over her skin, cricket song humming in her ears, catching a flurry of commotion from the corner of her eye, Claire snapped her head in that direction.

Jim was standing there on the corner of the balcony looking quite flustered.

But curiously he was all alone.

Claire narrowed her eyes, allowing the door to swing shut behind her as she strode forward “Who was that you were speaking with?”

Jim glanced from side to side, just a hint too casual to be completely natural “There’s no one else out here,”

“I just heard you talking with someone,” she continued to stalk forward, rapidly closing the distance between the two of them.

“How could I have been speaking to someone when clearly no one else is here?”

Claire stopped just inches away, looking Jim dead in the eye fixing him with her most piercing glare “I’ve noticed you’re not denying it.”

Jim paled and took a nervous step backward, back hitting the balcony’s railing ��I...I…”

“What do we have here?”

They both jumped at the new voice, Claire whipping around to see Lord Merlin standing in the doorframe. His words were clearly meant to admonish, but his expression was amused.

“Just what are you two up to, stealing away all by yourselves?”

Jim’s face went white. Claire felt her heart ba-dump but forced a chastized expression and turned to face him, folding her hands demurely in front of her. Merlin’s presence was trouble, especially since he caught them doing something that they very much shouldn’t be doing. But Claire knew that Merlin wanted her and Jim together just as much as her parents did, and if he wasn’t truly angry that left her some room to maneuver…

“We didn’t mean to be improper,” she kept her voice low and soft, eyes cast down, being very careful to make sure she sounded sincere and not saucy “We just wished for a moment to ourselves without any of the other young men or women interrupting,”

Merlin let out a hearty laugh and she knew they were out of trouble “Ah well no harm done,” he turned away from the door and waved for them to follow “I suppose you youngsters must be allowed your indulgences, but I expect decent behavior from both of you going forward,”

“Of course,” the second Merlin’s eyes were off them Claire snapped her gaze back towards Jim, staring daggers into him while keeping her voice sugary sweet “We promise to be on our best behavior,”

Jim actually stumbled a bit from the force of her gaze as they followed Merlin back inside.

#tales of arcadia #trollhunters #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #krel tarron #both sides of the sky #rmvwrites #merlin #original character(s)

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selchwife · 1 year

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Voice of man reading emetwol fic again. some thoughts.

ive seen like two fics like this thus far and am beginning to suspect it may be a subgenre: WoL, in the timeline where black rose happened, is still alive for some reason and is essentially coerced into marrying emet in order to assure it is not used, all while the garlean empire is occupying like, peak wealth and status rather than slowly cannibalizing itself like a pack of miserable wolves delirious from the stress of long-term captivity.

am noticing a pattern (inasmuch as noticing the same element present twice is “noticing a pattern”) where in these fics wol is presented with like extremely desirable material goods and services but turns them down or chafes against them because they’re extensions of emet’s hospitality, and she kind of hates him. this in and of itself is kind of part of a repeated theme i see with him where he’s able to provide all sorts of material items or benefits and has no real compunctions about giving extremely lavish gifts, but in order to maintain the illusion of social propriety and lack of materialism these are usually forced on WoL rather than graciously accepted by her.

and it kind of makes me think, like, certainly i agree being materialistic is not a desirable trait, but what’s wrong with appreciating things that people offer you? i have a bunch of like…extenuating circumstances, in my case, that can make accepting generosity (especially of the material sort) difficult, because i’m an abuse victim and spent a lot of my formative years in poverty, and i think the idea that accepting gifts or wanting anything at all makes you materialist is certainly a contributing factor (interesting also how often it’s accompanied by the idea that resigning oneself to poverty is morally aspirational, something something propaganda!)

ultimately im kind of at the point where like. Reluctance in accepting gifts is real, especially in people for whom gifts were weaponized somehow or who don’t value themselves or are uncomfortable with extravagant gifts because of prior experiences with poverty or who have moral OCD about materialistic behavior or whatever else, and i don’t mind that in fiction or whatever, but i do think maybe in a more general sense shaming material desires or playing coy about them isn’t the way, either. I’ll Admit It: as a poor and disabled person, even given my difficulties around receiving or accepting gifts (depending on the person giving this can range from mild guilt to legitimate panic attacks), i would love to have nice things to wear, and an attractive and well-kept place to live, and total food security, and help with tasks of daily living, and the occasional totally useless pretty trinket. That would be awesome. why should i not want that, and why should i not entertain a fantasy where a loving and safe person can provide those things to me out of a simple desire to see me be well, without coercion or abuse involved?

and yes, like, I do understand that in the case of fic about emet and garlemald those are all certainly ill-gotten gains, but the framing is almost always like UGH, MY GILDED CAGE! i GUESS i’ll eat this delicious food and wear this beautiful dress and sleep in this wonderfully appointed safe and warm shelter :/ as opposed to like Wow, this is the luxury he’s killing the world for!, so im fairly sure that is not the reason for the heroine-as-extension-of-author’s rejection of said wealth

like idk just. Having people who are eager to do nice stuff for me and trying to balance my weird neuroses with not wanting to let them down is starting to highlight for me not only the flaws in them but the way i think typical platitudes about materialism are in effect less often used to chide the economically comfortable and more often used to dissuade the poor from wanting to like, escape the hand-to-mouth living and exploitation that comes with being part of the have-not underclass in society

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becca-e-barnes · 3 years

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Take Care of Everything

This is my first ever fic for a writing challenge omg I’m so excited! Huge congratulations to @balenciagabucky for hitting 3K followers!! That’s such a huge milestone and thank you for organising such a fun challenge! So excited to read the rest of the submissions 💗 @dulceslibrary

Pairing: Personal Assistant! Bucky Barnes x Lawyer! Reader

Word Count: 3.5k maybe?

Summary: There’s only one thing in your life that your PA doesn’t take care of

Warnings: Smut, praise kink, pet names, protected sex (go me for writing something safe sex for a change), court mention, lil fluff, mile high club

Minors, do not interact.

“Un-fucking-believable.” You couldn’t stop the roaring boil of the blood in your veins, storming out of the court room with your long black gown billowing behind you. Being one of the top barristers in the country brought it’s fair share of high profile cases but this one had got on every last nerve in your body and you were out of patience.

The case itself wasn’t the problem. The issues were straightforward enough and applying law to fact, at the most basic level, your client had done nothing wrong. It should have been essentially cut and dry. The problem was the opposing council and the lack of intervention from the judge.

The prosecution had torn your witness to shreds. You had tried to warn the poor woman beforehand, as you did with every client, but on the stand, she had just crumbled under such an intense and downright ignorant line of questioning.

It shouldn’t have even been allowed in the first place. The judge should have stepped in and clipped the opposing council’s wings but the damage was already done and now you would have to pick the pieces up when court resumed on Monday.

“How did it go?” Your personal assistant must have been leaning outside the courtroom door for who knows how long, his suit somehow as neat and pristine as always, despite the fact it was the end of the day.

“Fucking dreadful, Terry was an asshole to Andrea and she lost it. Should’ve known he’d pull shit like that, he’s always a cunt on Friday evenings.” You practically spat the words out, heels clicking on the floor as you made your way down the marble hall to collect your things and begin to put an end to this miserable week.

Part of you almost wanted to laugh at how Bucky had developed the skill of being able to keep up with your pace without even having to look up from his blackberry. That only came from years of practice.

“Terry loves playing with fire. Fuck him. If anyone can put him in his place on Monday, it’s you.” Bucky still hadn’t taken a second to pull his nose up from his phone, his steps landing in perfect time with yours until you reached the chamber at the end of the hall, throwing the heavy wooden door open in front of you. Bucky filtered in behind you of course, closing the door behind him before slipping his phone neatly into his pocket.

“Thought your doctor warned you about your blood pressure? You gotta calm down.” Bucky’s face showed he was genuinely concerned, his eyebrows knitted together in disdain but there was nothing new there. He had worked for you for years now and truth be told, he was damn good at his job, not to mention the fact he was the closest thing to a friend your busy schedule allowed you to have.

“I’ll calm down when I’m dead. We need to get to the airport if we’re going to make that flight for the convention.” You pulled your wig off, setting it neatly into the little wooden closet before removing your gown, hanging it up alongside the other worn ones from earlier in the week so they could all be dry cleaned and back in the closet for Monday.

“It’s a private jet honey, it can’t leave without you.” Bucky laughed softly, knowing you were worked up and hoping a little joke would ease the tension.

You had to admit, you were so thankful for Bucky. He was devoting the prime of his life to making sure you had everything you needed, your life only felt so seamless because Bucky made it that way. He didn’t just manage your calendar and fetch you coffee like any other PA, he lived and breathed you. He went everywhere with you, crashing in your spare room at least three nights a week because you had both worked yourselves to exhaustion. He never missed anything. He had a solution for every problem, nothing was too big for him to tackle and given the chance, you two could absolutely take over the world one day. You confided in him, and he in you, getting to know every tiny detail of his life in the past few years, right down to that fact that neither of you had seen your family or been on a date in months. Hell, he’d went as far as buying you a packet of batteries one Monday after a particularly long and stressful court hearing.

“Here, got you these.” He had smiled mischievously as he handed them over to you, chuckling a little at your confused expression. “For your vibrator. Looks like it’s gonna be a long week.” You took them gratefully, joking with him that you really would need them, tucking them into your handbag and damn were they appreciated. The following morning he had asked how you had got on and you could only laugh. You didn’t tell him how thoughts of him had come into your head right as you had gotten close. Similarly, you didn’t tell him how painfully intense your orgasm had been when you imagined him on the bed with you, watching you come apart against the plastic toy. You could just picture his hungry gaze, watching how your body gushed as you released, nipples pebbled from arousal and your lips parted, a single whimper of his name escaping you as you rode out your high.

No, that was a little secret you would keep to yourself. He didn’t need to know your dirtiest fantasies. He was an employee. An employee that often arrived at your bedroom door shirtless and smirking, holding a stack of freshly made pancakes on the mornings he stayed over at yours but an employee nonetheless.

—————————

The cab ride to the airport would have been silent if it hadn’t been for the gentle tapping of your thumbs and Bucky’s racing over your respective phone screens. You had at least two dozen emails left to reply to and your eyelids were beginning to get heavy, the body heat radiating from Bucky in the cab’s back seat making you drowsy. You took a second, squeezing your eyes shut to force away the tiredness before going back to typing relentlessly.

The trip to the airport was short, Bucky had competed the preflight checkin so you essentially stepped straight onto the plane, taking a seat by the window, with Bucky taking the one opposite you. Takeoff was smooth as always, your phones picked back up as soon as it was safe to do so. But with the glowing screen came a fresh wave of drowsiness, your eyelids threatening to close of their own accord.

“Shit, Buck did you pack my -“

“Glasses? Left side of your bag, under the tissues.” Bucky finished your sentence for you, not looking up from his phone.

“And my -“

“Eye drops? In your makeup bag.” There it was again. What surprised you most was that Bucky didn’t even need to see you to work out exactly what was wrong.

“Do you really just take care of everything?” You huffed out a little laugh, digging through your bag, finding both your glasses and eye drops exactly where he told you they would be.

“Everything but you.” He chuckled, finally setting his phone down.

“What do you mean ‘everything but me’? All you ever do is take care of me. You organise my shopping and dry cleaning for god’s sake.” The whole notion of Bucky doing anything but taking care of you was just insane because you sure as hell didn’t have time to do any of those things for yourself. That’s what you hired him for after all.

“I didn’t mean like that. I meant like really take care of you. You’re so damn up tight.” You knew by the little chuckle that accompanied his words that he meant it affectionately but it still made you slightly defensive.

“I’m not up tight.” You protested. Normally you would’ve let harmless comments like that slide but the combination of your shitty day and the fact you were so sleepy made it impossible to not seek out conflict. This was the life you were used to after all. A life of treating almost everyone you came across adversarially. It was second nature to you at this point, inside and outside the courtroom.

“Come on, you seem to forget I am your calendar. You think I don’t know you haven’t gotten any in months? You should get laid, that’s all I’m sayin’. Wouldn’t kill you to have an orgasm every once in a while.” The words roll off his tongue like it’s nothing and truth be told, if you were in better form, this would have been a perfectly normal conversation between the two of you. Neither of you were particularly shy when it came to talking about your hookups.

You hated how right he was. You hated that you hadn’t been touched in months and Bucky knew that. You hated that most days, you were too exhausted to bother tending to your own needs. And you hated the warmth spreading through your body at the thought of Bucky finally taking care of you.

“Don’t know Buck, an orgasm might actually kill me with my high blood pressure.” You needed this conversation to turn more light hearted and you needed it fast, before your head became so clouded with need that Bucky picked up on it.

“I mean, I handle everything else for you. Wouldn’t even mind if that became part of my remit.” You almost couldn’t believe how carefree and nonchalant this whole conversation seemed, Bucky hoping you missed how he cock twitched in his trousers. Of course you didn’t. You missed nothing.

“If what became part of your remit?” You quizzed firmly, trying not to give anything away but knowing your eyes had gone big and doe-like, entirely of their own accord. This was a dream come true.

“You. Actually taking care of you. However you need.” His stare was intense, watching you keenly to determine whether he had horrendously overstepped and was about to get fired.

“Why would you even want to?” Your voice carried every single ounce of confusion you were feeling, staring Bucky down with an intensity that mirrored his own in that moment.

“You’re far too smart to act dumb.” He replied softly, knowing it was all or nothing now. If he was getting fired, he might as well be honest. His head tilted downwards, drawing your attention to the bulge growing in his suit trousers. Years worth of need and longing bubbling over all at once.

“If you want this, tell me. If not, that’s fine. But it doesn’t need to be anything romantic. Can be just sex. Whatever you want.” He was doing his very best to stay calm, his brain finally catching up with his mouth and considering that he was now in way too deep to just apologise and about to get his ass handed to him at thousands of feet in the air by one of the best legal minds in the world.

You’d never wanted anything more in your life. It was almost like Bucky was dangling himself in front of you. A piece of meat before a lion that could be snatched away at any second. You weren’t going to give him the chance, professionalism be damned. You were out of your seat and onto his lap in a flash, your pencil skirt hiked up to allow you to bracket his legs in your own.

“Are you sure about this?” Your quizzed softly, giving him one last chance to back out before you lost all self control.

“Do I feel like I’m not sure?” His voice was almost a choked whisper, his hands landing on your hips to press you down against his stiff cock.

You’d never seen him like this before. Horny and needy and losing himself in the feeling of you on top of him after years of fantasies. He had tried to curb the fantasies but his body didn’t allow him to. You were all he could think of on those lonely nights, a hand wrapped around his cock, groans and whimpers escaping until he came over his hand, a cry of your name pulled from his lips. He thought you would never know. And now here he was, the woman of his dreams perched in his lap, asking to be taken care of. Even the filthiest parts of his brain couldn’t have come up with this.

He could never have dreamt how you moved forward so tentatively, your lips hardly even touching his. He was used to seeing you confident, in control, the calmest person under pressure and yet here you were, unsure of yourself for the first time, he imagined, in your life. You both kept your eyes open for a little while, your lips sliding together gently, getting a feel for one another, up until your teeth sank into the plush skin of his bottom lip and an actual groan left him, his eyelids fluttering shut. The sound could’ve made you quiver with need. It was so alarmingly sexy, knowing your huge, sexy PA could be taken apart with the smallest touches. Suddenly, this seemed to be as much, if not more, for Bucky’s benefit than your own.

“Thought this was for me, hm?” Somehow your condescending court voice was pushing him over the edge. You felt one of his hands come up, tangling in your hair while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling your core flush with his clothed cock. He kissed you with a burning intensity that made your head swim and your pussy throb, loving how he was taking control but still hurtling further into a breathless, needy state.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve thought about this. Didn’t think we’d be joining the mile high club.” He huffed out a little light laugh, using his grip on your waist to help you roll your hips over his growing erection.

“Couldn’t have been thinking about this for as long as I have.” You smiled softly, letting out a little gasp as his cock nudged you just right through your panties that you were sure had been soaked through already. His eyes went wide at your admission, his dick twitching deliciously underneath you.

“Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” He whispered, making you laugh at how eager he was.

“I won’t be able to wait until we’re off this plane Bucky. You gonna fuck me right here?” You teased him softly, your faces so close, your tiny hands running down his pristine shirt, toying with the buttons. When you began to graze his chest gently with your nails, it was like a switch flipped inside Bucky. He thrust up against you with a growl loving the yelp you let out, one hand now squeezing your ass, the other massaging your breasts through your blouse.

“Gonna fuck all the stress out of you. Gonna have you leavin’ this plane leakin’ and cockdrunk.” Somehow you didn’t even doubt his words and you had to admit, it did sound quite appealing to give up the control for a while, just letting Bucky take over.

“Gimme all you’ve got Barnes. Gotta make it worth my while or this is gonna be the last time you get the chance.” You couldn’t help but tease him before instantly realising that might have been a mistake, his lips burning hot as they worked against your own, needy, insistent and as always, eager to please.

His mouth was relentless to the point that you found yourself practically dry humping his cock, your hands laced in his hair while his untucked your blouse from your skirt, greedily holding onto any skin he could reach. He tasted of peppermint and coffee, smelt like the expensive aftershave you were so fond of and felt like a man who’s only purpose in life was to make you cum until it hurt.

“Need you. ‘Nside me. Now.” You managed somehow to pant the words out between the fervent slide of his lips over yours, his tongue dipping in to taste you, never wanting this to end.

The feeling of your much smaller hands landing on his belt buckle made him look down but he could’ve cum then and there at the sight that met him. The front of his suit pants were slick with your mess, proof that he wasn’t just dreaming and you really were needing this just as badly as he was.

“You’re so fuckin’ ready for it aren’t you? Look at the mess you’ve made. Why didn’t we do this years ago?” He was groaning, shifting in his seat to help you get his trousers and boxers down. You couldn’t help how you gasped a little at the sheer size of him, his cock thick and long, the head slick with precum, proud veins running up his shaft. He looked Godly. Two firm pumps was all it took to have his head thrown back against the plush leather seat, cursing and bucking against your hand, aching for more.

“I’m sorry Buck, I can’t wait any longer.” You panted, his lips attached to your neck now, kissing, licking and sucking all his frustration into your skin. If there was a time for foreplay, that wasn’t it. Neither of you had the patience right now.

“Thank God, needa feel this pretty pussy.” He all but whispered as you lined him up at your soaking entrance.

“Shit Bucky, you got a condom?” You asked anxiously, stilling yourself at the last second.

“My bag, zip compartment at the front.” He replied quietly and sure enough, that’s exactly where you found a packet. Tearing the wrapper off, you slid it down his length earning another groan from the huge man who was practically shaking beneath you.

“You think of everything.” You giggled, finally beginning to slowly sink yourself down onto him. Your laugh quickly turned into a breathy moan, your breath mingling with Bucky’s and you noticed how he made a very similar noise. You pressed yourself down slowly, your body having to adjust to the stretch.

“So tight, fuck. Shit, never felt a tighter pussy in my life.” He whispered when you were finally seated on top of him. He pulled your skirt out of the way to appreciate just how connected your bodies were in that moment. His cock just seemed to fit perfectly, so snug you could’ve cried as you began to slowly work your hips against his.

“Oh my god Bucky you’re huge.” You should’ve been embarrassed by how high and needy your whine came out but right then and there, you didn’t care.

“It’s all yours sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so good you never need another cock again. Gonna ruin anyone else for you - fuck.” Under normal circumstances you would’ve chastised him for being so overconfident but feeling how his cock nudged your sweet spot perfectly, you thought he might actually be right.

“Gotta fuck you angel, can’t just sit here anymore, ‘s driving me crazy.” He just couldn’t keep himself still any longer, lust burning behind his eyes in a way you had never seen in him before. You lifted yourself up slowly, feeling his length slipping from you, your walls fighting to pull him deeper until you sank back down, taking the whole length at once. The strangled cry that left Bucky was incredible. You repeated your gentle rise and fall, setting a decent pace. Every sharp fall of your hips tore a needy gasp from both of you, the sweetest spot inside you throbbing from the almost constant onslaught. It was everything you craved. Bucky was grasping at every curve of your body, lost in the feeling of your soft skin and the grip of your silky walls and the smell of your shampoo as you rode him, building speed as your pleasure built in your lower belly. The wet sounds escaping where your bodies were joined was nothing short of obscene, only fuelling Bucky to meet each of your thrusts with his own.

“Oh my god, I -oh oh- I can’t, can’t take it Bucky please.” You groaned, manicured fingernails digging into his chest.

“I got you honey. ‘s okay. Gonna take such good care of you when we get to the hotel. Just want you to cum once for me now, okay? Take the edge off. You feel so good wrapped round me. You know what else I can feel? Your pretty pussy is leakin’. Feel you drippin’ down over my balls. Never felt anything so hot in my ‘ntire life.” His fingers fell to your clit, rubbing neatly as if he had been trained to do nothing else. You were on cloud nine, your high so close but not quite there yet.

“Bucky, gonna cum. Oh fuck!” You whined, your orgasm hitting you like a train. You came with a loud cry, eyes squeezed shut, rocking against him more than fucking so his cock stayed buried inside you.

“Shit, how did you get even fuckin’ tighter. ‘M so close.” He whispered against your neck, broken and needy. Your high had all but subsided, aftershocks still pleasantly coursing through you as you went back to letting your hips rise and fall so Bucky could finish. It only took four more well timed thrusts before he was cumming with a shout, pulling you flush against him as his balls emptied into the condom.

You were both spent and sweaty but more satisfied than you could remember being in months, your chest pressed to his as you both came down, craving a little extra affection. Bucky held you for a good few minutes until you felt his cock softening, knowing he really should get cleaned up. You let him slip from you, pulling your skirt down to take your original seat across from him again.

“Gimme a second.” He whispered, kissing your forehead before making his way to the little bathroom, returning a few minutes later looking just as put together as ever, apart from his telltale grin.

“Jesus, we should do that more often.” You smiled quietly when he returned, letting him settle in the chair beside you this time, the dividing arm rest pushed out of the way so you could cuddle as much as possible given the limited space.

“I can’t stop now honey. That pussy is addictive.” He smiled, happy to see you leaning so comfortably up against him but even happier when he heard your soft little snores.

Taglist:

@harrysthiccthighss @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @justatirednightowl @littlecanadianlani @babebr @sebsbrokentoe @badgirlwolfy

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dorimena · 3 years

Note

I seriously love Bakugou and Todoroki. Especially Bakugou in his tight winter costume in S5. And I love Dom reader and femdom more than a sub. Can I pleaseee request Todoroki or Bakugou where the reader is recording them playing with a vibrator or dildo but get overstimulated because they can't cum from the cock ring because it's their punishments since they forgot their anniversary so reader also forget to stop the toys even if they beg reader to stop in the camera.if you don't mind the request

I don’t mind~ May your sin be forgiven with this prayer (˘⌣˘人) This sounds really, really sexy, so I had a blast imagining and putting this into words.

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; bakugou katsuki & todoroki shoto

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 2.1k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fem!reader, sex toys (dildo, vibrators, cockring), overstimulation, cam sex (recording), exhibitionism, semi-public, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; balcony sex (?), threesome, whiny Bakugou, weeping Todoroki, punishment, orgasm denial, aged-up characters, Bakugou and Todoroki are both 20+

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; Unravel Me by Sabrina Claudio and Fuck Love by XXXTENTACION ft. Trippie Reid somehow helped me piece this together. Sorry if there are any typos! It’s not proofread.

𝕯𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝕿𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊

“I-I-”

“W-we! We-”

You watch as both men struggle to speak, trying to ask for forgiveness, once again. It’s the fourth time this hour, the way Bakugou tries to open his mouth wide enough to not slur his words and Todoroki tries to correct Bakugou while keeping himself coherent.

It’s cute how the smartest guys in your life seem to fail miserably in having a decent human conversation

Well, you can’t blame them either, not with the way you keep toying around with the intensity of the vibrators taped to their dicks, cum drying on the toy enough to show anyone who looks up on the balcony that these two men, with such stature and muscles, are easily falling apart.

“Speak better, sweethearts. Can’t have you guys sounding so dumb on camera, right?”

Oh yeah, and you’re even recording them, in case anyone else would want to watch the rising proheros break.

You’re not actually going to show them to the public, but maybe to their friends. Maybe Kirishima would like to watch? Kaminari? Sero? Or maybe Iida? Midoriya?

Heck, the girls might even ask some day.

But you know what makes you curious about showing this video to their friends?

The way both Bakugou and Todoroki are presenting themselves beautifully, as if they’re pro porn stars saving the wanks rather than proheros saving the day.

It’s cute, how Bakugou’s puffing his muscular chest in the air as if they were the juiciest tits ever, which they are, and how Todoroki is somehow sensually humping the air with every buzz against his furious red tip.

Your eyes stay on the screen, making sure the lighting is entering nice enough to make it seem like they’re glowing, other than their post-orgasm glow.

How many times have they come by now?

“Babes, how many times have you cum?”

They both shake their heads.

Of course they wouldn’t know. They just take what they’re receiving. They’re making up for their mistake.

You still pout, tapping the touchable screen to even out the weird lighting as another cloud covers the sun, again.

Maybe giving their punishment out on the balcony wasn’t such a good idea.

As you look down to the floor below them, seeing the once growing puddle of cum slowly be pushed by the wind to trail off towards the side of the balcony, seeping through the small opening and probably dripping feets below is what keeps you positive, happy knowing people will eventually look up and wonder ‘what the fuck is going on?’

Well, either the drying cum gives away your dirty activities or it’s Todoroki’s wailing as an orgasm is ripped out of him forcibly.

Pity nothing comes from his tip, not since some time ago.

They both thought they deserve to cum and be satisfied?

Maybe you should’ve put the cock rings on them before making them come the first two times, but their reactions and frustration with how little some cum leaves or how their body reacts with the dry convulsions makes you giggle in pride.

Pretty babes.

“Todoroki, shut up. You’ll make the neighbors look over- oh! Oh, that’s what you want? I understand.”

And poor Todoroki is just shaking his head way too fast, enough to give him whiplash, but you just snicker as you reach over to a white box.

An unfamiliar white box.

Bakugou’s eyeing Todoroki in pity, wondering what the other will have to endure as he keeps trying to fight off his orgasm.

How he’s doing it, he has no clue. But god his dick hurts.

He’s been wanting to cum for the past 30 minutes, but with the way he resents this stupid cock ring, he’d rather not humilliate himself in front of you and figure out how else to please you.

Maybe he should offer to eat you out?

The way his body is super tense and his breathing is shallow doesn’t escape your attention, less how much pity is showing itself on his face as he shakes his face in disapproval with Todoroki’s recent dry orgasm.

Good thing you invested in this double dildo.

Neither of the boys take notice with how you’re lubing the dildo that looks like it’d belong to you. It’s quite pretty, long and thick enough to hopefully please your boys.

Even if they won’t get to cum.

“Bakugou,” you start, smiling as you watch his once bright eyes suddenly darken as shock takes over his face.

What the

“Fuck is that?!” He yells out, accidentally letting his body relax as it finally submits to the vibrations of the toy, his yell turning into an unbroken series of high-pitched moans, his hips losing control with how incredibly close he is.

“A double dildo, baby. Look! It even looks like if I’d be fucking you two, isn’t that fun?”

Bakugou shakes his head, gasping ‘no, no, no!’ before he falls forward, balancing himself with his palms as he sobs through his first dry orgasm. Maybe he shouldn’t have held back for so long, not with the way his body unforgivably goes through waves of pure unsatisfied pleasure.

Todoroki, meanwhile, is nodding eagerly, eyes welling up in happy tears at the idea of getting fucked, in getting more pleasure and love from you, even if this is meant to be punishment.

But, why are you exposing them like this?

They forgot your anniversary.

Your 3rd anniversary as a throuple, the anniversary Bakugou swallowed his bite and pride to confess to you how much he loves you and how he’s falling in love with Todoroki too; the anniversary Todoroki finally let loose the dam of emotions and even if a bit tipsy, agreed he too was falling in love with both you and Bakugou, how he hasn’t ever felt so understood, so loved, so safe.

So, yeah, how dare they forget?

But if they wanna be dumb, you’ll help with that.

It’s been a while now since you’ve turned off the vibrators and since you’ve prepped them well enough to take the dildo together.

The scene in front of you is gorgeous, ethereal, sublime.

You just want to ruin them like this everyday.

“Aagh! Ugh! F-fuck! Sl-slow do-own! Haaah~”

“S-sorry! ‘m s-sorry! Ca-an’t! Nnah…”

It’s cute watching them argue a bit, how Bakugou can’t take how fast Todoroki is fucking himself back on the dildo while also pushing the toy deeper into Bakugou. And Todoroki doesn’t actually look sorry, not with how his eyes keep crossing everytime he manages to get the toy to hit his sweet spot.

He’s trying so hard to win your forgiveness by putting up with this, but it’s kind of sad knowing you’re not going to stop anytime soon, or take off the cockrings.

Not like they know anyways.

Bakugou might’ve known, might’ve noticed, with the way he’s trying to keep this dragging as slow and steady as possible; with the way his precum is struggling to escape the confines the cockring gives; with how much his red and miserably hard dick keeps jumping with every push Todoroki’s ass gives him.

You’re lounging about, resisting the urge to get off to the scene in front of you, or else they’d start begging to let them please you as apologies, and knowing how sentimental this day is for you, you know you’d immediately give in.

But this is punishment for their forgetfulness.

So, as the cherry on top of this cum covered balcony sex sundae, you’ll also forget about them.

It lasted for a while as you got bored with how neither of them seemed to be reaching another orgasm.

If only the dildo had a vibration option.

But the vibrators still taped on their dicks will have to do.

So you turn them back on, and oh would you look at that! The cockrings could also vibrate.

The pleasure-filled scream coming from Bakugou and the cute, drawled whine of your name Todoroki lets out makes you feel grateful for thinking ahead, kinda.

Now both boys are writhing against each other, different ways to let out their desperations and dying need to properly cum manifesting in either rapid fucking on the dildo to simply submitting to the minstruations of the other party.

To put it in better, shorter words, Bakugou took the reigns in fucking the dildo in such rigor and strength that made Todoroki lay on his chest, ass still up as he simply took everything Bakugou kept pushing into him, mouth opened as hiccups and drool escaped. His eyes settle onto your form, watering as more tears gather on his waterline before dropping to the ground his face is resting on.

It feels so good, so, so good he can’t believe this is punishment. Even if he hasn’t been able to properly cum for some time now, he still thinks you’re being nice with them. Must be because of the anniversary that you sadly reminded them of.

He’s trying his best to push back on the dildo, wanting Bakugou to feel just as good as him, just as fucked as him.

And everytime the toy hits him just right, Todoroki sees stars, feels an all too familiar tingly sensation as he tries to grab his dick, but when you turn the vibrator up even more, his hands just lay on the ground, nails raking as he tries gripping on something, anything.

He really, really, really needs to cum. He wants to cum.

Keep being a good boy for you.

But all he gets is a choked sob of your name leaving his mouth as his eyes roll to the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed upwards as the strongest orgasm takes over his body, he’d be convinced there’s an earthquake happening. Small whimpers of how much it hurts leaves his mouth soon after, his dick twitching pathetically as it slowly becomes purple, barely a dribble of cum managing to escape.

Bakugou is in no good shape either, loudly moaning and crying out how good you’re fucking him, how he’s taking your cock, how good he is being, to please, please, please let him cum.

But actually cum, to let him contaminate the floor even more with his sperm, to let him taste it even, if that would make you happy and forgive him.

He’s close to wailing by now, hips going impossible faster as he forgets all about poor Todoroki riding out his high.

And the moment you turn on the vibrators intensity, he gets dizzy, breath getting stuck in his throat as his brain tries to process the spiraling of his warm, hot orgasm growing too much, burning him everywhere as if it were lava.

Small sparks sound on his fingertips as he howls and gets hurled into his own orgasm, back arching and head thrown back as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

He didn’t even notice the tears rolling down his cheeks, not with how his mind only cares about how good yet bad this orgasm feels.

Not even how loud his high-pitched wails of how good it feels, how much it hurts, is enough to alarm anyone near the radius of this defiling act.

Both boys are left shuddering or twitching through their intense dry orgasm, the way their bodies react with the built up cum in their dicks, with how hot and how wreckless they’re becoming with their quirks.

Still connected with the dildo, neither move, unless it’s some pathetic hump to help drag the orgasm a little more before they try to even remember what letter your name begins with.

Bakugou’s whimpering.

Todoroki’s crying silently.

Both blinking the haze out of their vision as they remember about the buzzing, about the relentless feeling on their really, really sensitive dicks.

Bakugou’s crying now.

Todoroki’s just busy mewling like a slut by now.

And when they both turn to look at you, they gasp so loudly one of them begins choking on air and the other with saliva.

Where’d you go?!

Come back!

And ‘come back’ and ‘forgive us’ is the only thing anyone could possibly hear for the next few hours as they fuck the dildo and let the vibrators do their job in milking more and more orgasms out of them.

If only they’d look closer, they would’ve seen a post-it note stuck on the tripod of the camera telling them you went to the kitchen and that they better come crawling.

Oh well, you’re enjoying the view anyways as you sip on some liquor of your liking, turning off the vibrators as you slowly walk to the balcony.

The sun’s beginning to set. You’re not that cruel in letting them fuck each other in the cold.

The bedroom is much better, and comfier.

Perfect for you to finish the job and let them finally, finally, get their deserving orgasms.

You’ll be sure to milk out

Every.

Single.

Drop.

#✿; impurity #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #todoroki smut #bakugou katsuki smut #todoroki shoto smut #sub bnha #sub bakugou #sub todoroki #ლ; blasphemy #𝖇𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔𝖚 #𝖙𝖔𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖎.𝖘

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zuffer-weird-girl · 3 years

Text

I may be hella afraid of birds but that wont stop me from making this.

Injured wing

The poor thing was in the balcony of the apartment. Making sounds and flapping their wings at ferocity to try to take flight again as you watched in pity.

Taking a warm towel from the dryer, your boyfriend's one since it was the comfier to be exact, you picked up the squirming little brow winged creature and took inside. You didn't had the heart to leave it out there, especially due to the snow.

While taking things out of cabinets, you didn't noticed your phone buzzing with the notifications of a certain... top hero calling you.

"A nightingale." You mused as you read on the internet what type of bird was now having fun on bathing on q small pot of water and singing to its heart content "How adorable!" You gushed as it shock out of the droplets of water as you carefully put a sorta of a tiny sling on a popsicle stick to mantain its feather that seemed to be broken stood on place.

"Sorry buddy, guess you're gonna have to stay like this for some time." The bird seemed to calculate your words before tweaking as you giggled at its cuteness.

That is until you heard the door opening and clicking shut.

Fuck. Keigo.

You grabbed the bird delicately and put it on a box filled with a soft towel and placed on your bed before going to open the bedroom's door to see a soaked wet, hair flat and worried hero with a frow.

"Is this some sorta of revenge or what? I was worried sick (Y/n)! You weren't answering your phone so I thought something happened." You picked your phone in confusion.

"You did?" Shit "oh..."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'" He crossed his arms before sighing cupping your cheeks "Why did you stood me up? I thought we were going to have dinner together on that restaurant."

"God!" You face palmed "I totally forgot! I'm so sorry Kei!" You whined as he let out a chuckle.

"Is fine. Although I would like if you compesate for m-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you both froze when a couple of chirps were heard. You analyzed his expression and soon giggled in nervousness at seeing his wings puff up in alarm.

"Was that.. was that a chirp?" He yed you, his pupils dilated as you took a step back with a smile.

"I.. I dont know? Maybe they are out there singing." You rolled your eyes and sweated when he towered over you as you kinda protected the nightingale inside the box with your body.

Yet the chirps intensified...

"There is a bird in here." Hawks more accused than asked as you giggled in nervousness once again.

"A bird? Why would a bird be-" the nightingale manage to escape the box and tweaked at both of you "...here."

"What is he doing in here?" He asked, if you didn't know Keigo enough, you could assume he was... unpleasant.

That's why you were so hesitant on showing the little nightingale to him in the first place when he showed up. You werent blind, and knew Keigo had some bird attics that showed up here and there. It wasn't as frequent as it would be however he was resting if the commission hadn't somehow put their hands on it. But Keigo didn't hold much strings around you. So... you could clearly see that your boyfriend wasn't happy when another one of "his kind", especially a male, he could tell somehow it was a male by the chirping dont ask why, was beneath the same rooftop as him with his partner alone.

"Is here because he is injured Kei, he needs some treatment." You cupped your hands together for the nightingale climb in it as Hawks hlardd holes at the little thing.

"Take him to the vet or something kid, this ain't a clinic." You flinched at his words but still remained strong.

"No I am not." You said "I dont know if they are going to sacrifice him or not Kei, I cant take chances."

"Do you even know how to take care of a bird in the first place dove?!" He asked, hands up as his wings puffed even more which made you snort and arch an eyebrow at him as the fella in your hands chirped.

"Well, I do have some knowledge of wings. And have to take care of one on daily basics." You giggled at the expression of shock and insulted Keigo did before walking off and leaving him groaning and sulking at knowing you wouldn't get rid of that street bird...

"Keigo Takami." He froze when he heard his full name coming from your mouth "Put that phone down. That little bird is going to stay until it gets better." He did just as you said with an eyeroll before pouting in anger at seeing the bird at your shoulder.

That's his place to put his chin on and snuggle your neck with his face. His.

"And you have to carry that thing whenever you go now? That must suck." He tried to joke, leaning with crossed arms on the kitchen counter as before his face completely fell as you simply chuckled and said it didn't bother you at all.

"Seriously?" He asked in disbelief before grabbing his mug taking a few gulps before you widened your eyes and giggling "What are you laughing at?"

"Is just that mug was full of water early and maybe our little friend may have took a bath in it." Your boyfriend stood up so fast and soon you heard disgusting noises of vomiting .

"For god's sake KEIGO I WASHED IT!"

"I DONT CARE THAT THING SHOULDN'T BE BATHING ON MY STUFF WHAT THE HECK?!"

You sighed, waiting for your boyfriend to be back as you feed the little bird with some seeds carefully, soon being met with Keigo, still brushing his teeth.

"Drama king." You chuckled as he groaned "You know he is not a thing Kei, is a nightingale."

"Great knowing it." He said with a mouthful of toothpaste before spitting into the trash, saying something about not dirtying his bathroom with other birds germs or something.

He looked at you a bit in defeat at seeing you feeding the bird as you noticed his wings drooping a bit.

"What is wrong now bird brain?" You giggled at his expression.

"You should be feeding me ... your boyfriend." You snorted before picking a sunflower seed and showing it to him.

"I thought you didn't liked this stuff?" Yoh asked cheekily as he groaned.

"There is chicken, takoyaki, nuggets heck everything that I eat!"

The bird chirped and you nodded thoughtfully as he stared at you in confusion.

"Cannibalism. I agree."

"Oh cmon I thought we were over this..." he sighed before getting something from the fridge as he scowled at the chirps following after.

He glared at the bird chirping a song as you hummed in delight at the sound, staring lovely at the nightingale.

"Oh cmon Kei!" You poked his cheeks which was puffed "You have to admit is a amazing sound! Nightingales are famous for that!"

"Hawks are famous for other things too y'know?" He grumbled before widening his eyes at seeing you werent giving him attention, instead grabbing your phone and recording the nightingale's chirping.

"Hm? What did you say Kei?" You looked up at him with that smirk which made him scoff and stood up with crossed arms and going to the kitchen.

You stiffled your giggled, going to your pouting boyfriend and hugging him lovingly after putting the injured bird back to safety.

"You're really jealous huh?" You carresed his chest as he breathed in and out, cheeks red at being so obvious about his feelings.

"Is a form of flirting birds singing to their mates. That little shit." He mumbled, earning you a laugh that made him smile as feeling you peppering kisses all over his neck and jawline before he caught your lips with his.

You broke apart with a goofy smile as he chuckled before deadpanning at hearing chirps before puffing and straightening his wings on all glory before shouting at the nightingale:

"GO GET YOURSELF A PARTNER! THIS ONE IS TAKEN YOU PIECE OF CRAP!"

You never laughed so hard in your life. A sound that, for Keigo at least, was far more beautiful than any chirping, singing or melody on this whole world.

After a few days you saw Keigo's hatred for the nightingale easing slowly but surely. Yet you never thought that coming home late on one of Keigo's day off, you would see your boyfriend, layed on the couch with a finger up holding the bird he claimed to hate it and whistling some similiar tone along with the nightingale's chirping.

You stared in shock yet awe at the look of your boyfriend directed to the bird as the sounds came out of his lips before chuckling.

"Your wing soon will be better by the looks of it. Isn't (Y/n) a great nurse?" He mumbled, a sadness deep down on his gaze as he saw the bird clapping the wing that wasn't wrapped up "You got freedom and my dove's attention bud, how could you and (Y/n) not expect me to get jealous?" He chuckled sadly as you frowned, walking slowly towards him, pretending to not overheard his monologue.

"Hey pretty thing, back already?" His cheeky smile was back as you looked at it in awe before kneeling in front of the couch he was layed on and kissing him deeply, making him close his eyes in bliss and pull you closer with his free hand by the neck.

You broke apart as he panted with a glossy yet pleased look. Ignoring the chirps for a bit, you carresed his golden looks as he closed his eyes with a smile.

"Redeeming yourself for giving attention to this bird and not me for these past few weeks?" He murmured happily yet drowsily as you giggled and kissed his forehead softly.

"You could say that bird brain." You stopped for a bit, hearing him whine miserably for you to get back, cupping your hands for the bird to get in.

"Cmon..." he whined, arm dropped over his face as the other rested on him until he felt you tugging on his shirt.

"Just get up lazy, I'm giving you all the attention you want." At this, you saw his golden eyes practically glow in bliss as he stood up as fast as he could.

He stretched his arms as he sitted up on the bed. Hair untamed and eyes unfocused until they dropped on the bird that had exited his box and was flapping both of his wings. Both.

"Huh. You look all better." He smirked as he felt you shift and rest your chin on his shoulder with a drowsy look.

"Who is better?" You mumbled before he pointed at the bird jumping and trying to take flight.

"Your friend there." You squealead as hs chuckled, grabbing the nightingale in one hands as he unwrapped the the made up sling as he waited patiently for the little fella to flap its wings and fly just a few centimeters above his palm.

"Cmon dove." He ushered you to follow him on the balcony as he had a gentle hold on the nightingale "Go little buddy, being stuck on a unknown place forever isn't goog for anyone."

And with a little movement of his hand, the nightingale took flight with beautiful chirps that made you smile but soon look at your boyfriend with a sad smirk as he watched the little bird fly away.

It wasn't sadness because he got attached to the nightingale. It was because that, even a small bird as he, could be free and not him. A grow up man that had a partner but was still caged by the comission...

You carresed his arm before hugging it and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek which brought his attention back to you.

"How about some hot cocoa my handsome? You still got some minutes stuck with me until you go to work." You said softly in Hope's to cheer him up.

He looked at you in some sorta of shock before chuckling and bringing you close enough to him to hear his heart beat and feel his warm yet chapte lips on your forehead.

"Being stuck with you is the only way that keeps me going to be honest."

#hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks #keigo takami #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfics #bnha heroes x reader #zuffer writings

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cuttoothed · 3 years

Text

A little fic for @jonsimsandcats and also inspired by some adorable art on discord! Featuring notes on kitten rearing, and of course some Jmart because it’s me.

Jon works at the Institute here, but a non-spooky version of it!

Martin is doing a final check on the fish tanks when he hears the bell above the front door jingle. He sighs; he knew he should have locked up first. Just his luck.

“This is your fault,” he tells the angelfish balefully. They don’t seem contrite, too busy nosing in the fine gravel for any food they’ve missed. Martin walks out to the front of the shop, preparing his best customer service smile to tell whoever’s come in at—he glances at his watch—three minutes past eight that they’re closed, and no, they can’t just wander around for a few minutes to look at the animals. Honestly, some people seem to think there’s no difference between a pet shop and an art gallery.

There’s a man standing at the front counter, looking around anxiously, a bundled up jumper clutched against his chest.

“Sorry, we’re—” Martin begins, and that’s as far as he gets before the man unleashes a frantic tirade.

“Please!” the man says, “I need your help, I-I’m not sure they’re breathing and they were out there for hours on their own, I know you’re not supposed to move them in case their mother comes back but I couldn’t just—just leave knowing they were still there, and all the vet offices nearby are closed, this was the only place I could think of!”

The man is wild eyed, almost panicked, and Martin lifts both hands in an appeasing gesture.

“Woah,” he says, “Uh, maybe start from the beginning again? Slowly?”

“Right, ah, sorry. Sorry. I spotted them this morning, under a bush just outside my work.” The man sets the bundle of jumper down on the counter, and unfolds it to reveal two tiny scraps of fur: one gray, one black. Kittens, Martin realizes, so small they can only be a week or so old; certainly not old enough to be without their mother.

“I left them alone, because I’ve heard that the mother usually comes back after a little while. A-and I meant to go and check on them again during the day, make sure.” The man sounds anguished now, his face miserable. “But I—I got caught up in work, forgot about it. It was only when I was leaving that I remembered. And they were still there, on their own. Barely moving. Please—is there anything we can do?”

Martin looks down at the tiny creatures in their nest of wool; he can just about see the shallow in-out of their breathing. All day outside alone, at their age, the odds aren’t great. But he’s met enough kittens to know that they’re shockingly resilient little sods, and he’s never given up on a so-called hopeless case before. He’s not about to start now.

“You did the right thing moving them,” he assures the man, moving to flip the sign on the door to CLOSED. “We need to get them warmed up and get some food into them. Body heat is the best thing for them right now—can you start warming them with your hands?”

“Oh—ah, yes,” says the man, turning to his bundle of jumper with a worried frown. Martin leaves him there while he rushes around the shop, grabbing kitten milk replacer and nursing bottles, and then into the back to heat two mugs of water in the microwave while he makes up the bottles. He pops them into the mugs to warm, and brings the whole lot out to the front. The man now has a kitten in each hand, and is holding them pressed carefully to his chest for additional warmth; his expression is still worried, but also desperately tender, and Martin feels a pang of something behind his ribs at the sight.

“One of them is moving,” the man says eagerly as Martin sets the bottles down. Martin can see the gray kitten wriggling weakly in the man’s grip, responding to the heat. Its sibling is still motionless, and Martin’s heart sinks a little.

“That’s great,” he says. “Hold onto her for another minute, and let me see if I can get her sister moving too.”

He holds out a hand, and the man almost reluctantly passes him the black kitten. Martin doesn’t try to notice that the man has lovely hands, with long, slim fingers, narrow wrist jutting out of his shirt sleeve, but, well, he notices a bit. He turns his attention to the kitten; he can’t make out the motion of its breathing anymore. He takes it in both hands and starts to massage it gently. It lies limp in his palms, head lolling, and Martin starts to feel despair crawling cold up his spine.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “You can do it.” The man is watching him anxiously, the gray kitten cradled against his chest, and Martin knows he can’t give up. He keeps rubbing the kitten’s small body, trying to will warmth and life back into the tiny, fragile form. At last, after what seems like an eternity, the kitten squirms in his hands and a faint, plaintive mew escapes it. An answering mew comes from the gray kitten, and Martin laughs, relief washing over him.

“Right, let’s see if we can get them to eat.”

After checking that they’re not too chilled to feed, Martin tests each of the kittens with a drop of formula on their tongue; thankfully they both seem able to swallow without difficulty. He shows the man how to feed the gray kitten, holding its body in a neutral position with the bottle tilted for a gentle flow. It doesn’t take long for the kittens to figure out the process, and Martin can feel the tug on the bottle as his kitten begins to suckle.

“Oh,” he hears softly from beside him, and turns to see the man gazing in delight at the gray kitten, whose tiny, unfurled ears are twitching as it sucks.

“She’s doing great,” Martin comments. “Good job.” The man gives him a tentative, pleased smile, and Martin still isn’t trying to notice but it’s a very nice smile. “I’m Martin, by the way.”

“Jonathan Sims—Jon,” says the man, and then gives a small, tense laugh. “God, I haven’t even apologized for storming in here while you were clearly trying to close up for the night.”

“That’s all right, I didn’t have any exciting plans tonight anyway. I’d much rather be spending time with these little beauties.”

Jon smiles again, more sure this time, and all right, maybe Martin deliberately notices the dimple in his right cheek. Just a bit.

Once the kittens are fed, Martin shows Jon how to stimulate them; both of them only pee a little—poor things are dehydrated—but it’s a good sign. They clean them up and tuck them back into the nest of Jon’s jumper, where they curl up into a small puddle of black and gray. Jon gives a sigh that’s somewhere between relieved and exhausted.

“Thank you,” he says. “I, ah, I think I forgot to say that as well. You know a lot about this.”

“I volunteer at a shelter, there are a lot of kittens. If you like, I can take them for tonight and bring them in tomorrow?”

“Ah,” says Jon. “Do you think that’s—I mean...I-I’m not sure I’d feel right, handing them off to someone else. Not that I think you’re not capable!” he rushes to add, and Martin finds himself smiling.

“No, I get it. You found them, you want to take care of them. I’ll warn you, though, it’s a big commitment. For the first couple of weeks you have to feed them every two hours, even during the night, and then it’s every three or four hours until they start weaning. It’s like having a newborn baby.”

“I don’t get much sleep generally,” says Jon. “At least this way I’ll have something to do while I’m up all night. And my work is—well, I’ll explain the situation.”

He looks set on it, brow furrowed with determination. Martin considers arguing more: that a shelter will be better equipped to care for the kittens, that there’s no guarantee they’ll survive in any case, that Jon doesn’t know what he’s signing up for. But the shelters are always crowded, and kittens this young have simple needs, and really, a dedicated foster parent—armed with the right knowledge—is probably the best thing for them.

“Right,” he says, “Let’s make sure these two are well wrapped up before you take them home.”

He scrounges a cardboard box from the back and they settle the kittens into it, still wrapped in Jon’s jumper along with a soft fleece blanket printed with cartoon fish. Martin gathers a couple of cartons of liquid formula and extra bottles to get them started, and shows Jon how to pierce the nipple so the flow isn’t too strong.

“It should be warmed to body temperature,” he explains, “But not directly in the microwave—put the bottles in heated water, like I did earlier. Do you have a hot water bottle?”

“Yes, I do,” says Jon, frowning intently as he listens. Martin nods.

“It’s better than a heating pad at this age, they’re less likely to get overheated. Don’t make it too hot—body temperature, again—and wrap it in a blanket so they’re not touching it directly.”

“Got it,” says Jon firmly, and Martin believes him. He bags up the formula and bottles and an extra pet blanket, and presses them into the hands of a startled Jon; the till is shut off for the night, but Martin can explain and pay for the items tomorrow.

“What’s your phone number?” he asks, and Jon looks even more startled.

“S-sorry?”

“Or your email. I’m going to send you some links—videos, a couple of good blogs that should be helpful.”

“Oh, ah, right. Of course.” Jon recites his number and Martin saves it under “Jon (Kittens).” He peeks into the box one last time before Jon scoops it up, and sees the kittens snuggled in the folds of the jumper, paws waving in little kitten dreams.

“Thank you again, Martin,” says Jon. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.” His tone is shy but genuine, and it sends warmth through Martin’s chest and up into his cheeks.

“Any time,” Martin says. “And feel free to text me if you need anything—if you have a question or...anything. Or call me if you like.” He’s aware he’s rambling a bit, but it’s not every day an attractive man says that he doesn’t know what he would have done without you, so he can hardly be blamed.

“I will,” says Jon solemnly.

He doesn’t text Martin any questions that night, but when Martin sends him the links to a youtube channel and three blog posts on kitten care, he replies:

Thank you :)

Martin spends most of the rest of the night wondering what that smiley face means.

He doesn’t necessarily expect to see Jon again, and certainly doesn’t expect to see him the very next day. But just before one o’clock in the afternoon the bell above the door jingles and there’s Jon, looking tired and more than a bit sheepish.

“I got all the way into work this morning before I realized I’d never paid for any of the things you gave me,” he says, reaching for his wallet.

“Those were gifts,” Martin tells him firmly. “Sort of a “welcome to foster parenthood” care basket?”

“No, I couldn’t let you—” Jon starts to protest, but Martin shakes his head emphatically.

“It’s no big deal, honestly. I get an employee discount anyway.”

“I...well, then I suppose I need to thank you yet again,” says Jon.

“It’s becoming a bit of a habit,” Martin jokes, grinning, and Jon smiles in return. He hesitates a moment before continuing:

“Maybe I could buy you lunch instead, then? To pay you back.”

“There’s no need, honestly,” says Martin, even as his brain berates him: What are you doing, idiot, he’s asking you to have lunch with him? Say yes!

“Please, I’d like to,” Jon says, and then gives a thoughtful frown. “Only if you want to, of course, don’t feel obligated—”

“I’m on lunch in five minutes,” Martin blurts out before he can overthink it.

“Great!” says Jon, sounding pleased. “If you have time, we could go by my office as well and visit the kittens. I just fed them before I came to see you.”

Before I came to see you, not before I came to pay you back, and Martin feels that warmth crawling up towards his cheeks again. Even if Jon’s intentions are purely friendly rather than...anything else, well, Martin could always use more friends.

“How were they last night?” he asks, and the smile that spreads across Jon’s face this time is pure delight.

“Oh I barely got an hour’s sleep,” he says, waving a hand. “And today they’re sitting under my desk reminding me every couple of hours that they need attention and that they are far more important than whatever I’m working on. They’re perfect.”

“Sounds like cat parenthood suits you,” Martin teases gently, and Jon laughs.

“I think it rather does.”

Lunch is...nice, and only slightly awkward in the “getting to know a new person” sort of way. Jon is serious, but also funny in an understated, acerbic way, and there’s a gentleness to him that wouldn’t be immediately apparent, if Martin hadn’t seen him cradling two tiny, fragile lives to his chest last night. He’s the kind of person Martin would like to know better, he thinks.

Afterwards they go to Jon’s workplace, which is extremely academic with a brass nameplate by the door and everything, and down to the basement office where Jon works; Martin doesn’t really know what archiving entails, but it looks like mostly a bloody great pile of paperwork. Jon’s two colleagues give Martin friendly and extremely curious glances as they pass; Jon pointedly ignores them in favor of directing Martin to his desk and the cardboard box sitting beneath it.

When Martin glances inside, the two kittens are curled up in the folds of the fish-print blanket, lying against the shape of what he assumes is the hot water bottle. Their bellies already look rounder than they were last night, thanks to regular feeding, and their limbs twitch as they sleep.

“I’ll take them to the vet for a check up after work,” Jon murmurs quietly, gazing down at them with a soft expression. Martin recognizes that look of adoration, and he knows this pair won’t be going to a shelter or anywhere else; they’ve found their home with Jon.

“They’re lucky you found them,” he says, and Jon smiles self-consciously.

“I think I’m the one who was lucky,” he says.

They spend a bit more time with the kittens, and then Martin realizes that it’s about time he got back to work if he doesn’t want to get in trouble. He excuses himself, waving goodbye to Jon’s still curious colleagues, and Jon walks him out to the grand front entrance of the building.

“Thanks again for lunch,” he says. “And—you have my number, right? The offer is open, if you need anything, just text me.”

“I will,” says Jon. “And, ah, let me know if you’d like to come and see the kittens again. Any day. Well, most days,” he corrects himself. “We could, ah, maybe have lunch again?”

“That sounds...really nice,” says Martin. Jon smiles, pleased, and Martin isn’t trying to notice the faint flush that spreads across his face, but it’s very cute anyway.

As he walks back to work, Martin’s phone vibrates with a text. It’s a picture of the kittens, curled up on top of each other, with the message:

Come back and see us soon!

Martin grins; the kittens, he thinks, weren’t the only ones lucky to be found last night.

#the magnus archives #jonsimsandcats2021 #my fic #jonmartin

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

“Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” – a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it. “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

#fanfiction #songfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #hurt/comfort #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #avenger reader #shield agent reader #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #walk me home tonight #anika ann

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holdmecloser-gandydancer · 3 years

Text

love and revolution

Magnus was intently working on a bookshelf. It was made of a beautiful, dark mahogany and, upon the request of the customer, was going to have dozens of birds carved into the sides and edges. He began sanding the shelves with a fine grit sandpaper. For a while, the only sound in the Hammer and Tongs was the soft, repetitive noise of wood being worn down.

The calm monotony was broken when the front door creaked open. Magnus looked up and grinned at the entrant; Julia Waxman, loaded down with bags from various merchants in town, had returned, the last dregs of the late afternoon sun trailing in after her. The sharp bite in the air let everyone know winter was just around the corner.

Magnus quickly stood up to relieve Julia of her burden She smiled and handed him half the bags in her arms. As the pair got to work unloading the bags, Magnus frowned. Everything Julia had brought home was either small, poor quality, or about to turn.

“This is what everyone had. Season’s been tough for farming and everyone’s raising prices to keep up with Kalen’s tariffs,” Julia said before Magnus could comment. She inspected the hard loaf of bread she’d been able to grab.

Magnus shook his head. For nearly a year, Governor Kalen and his cronies had been enacting increasingly harsh laws, oppressive curfews, and predatory taxes; the citizens of Raven’s Roost all felt the firm pressure of Kalen’s fine leather boots on the neck of their economy and of their freedom.

“How is everyone doing?”

Julia shrugged. “They’re all doing as well as they can. The Silverstrings are worried because their wheat harvest was half as fruitful this year as it was last year and a good portion of what grew was seized by Kalen.”

“Lucatiel?”

“His wool has largely been commandeered by Kalen. He hopes to be able to shear another large batch before winter hits in earnest but he’s uncertain.”

“And Therala?”

“Her herd’s dwindling. Most of the calves from this past spring either died or –“

“Were taken by Kalen and his pals. Right. Jules, how does he keep getting away with this?”

Julia laughed sharply and started putting some of the dry goods in the storage closet in the back of the shop. “Magnus, that’s just how things have always been here. For a while, anyway.”

“But how’d he even get into power in the first place?” There was nothing but pure astonishment in his voice. In the five years he’d lived in Raven’s Roost, he’d never quite been able to comprehend how someone so ruthless could have gotten the trust of the town; his friends and neighbors were good, honest folks and good judges of character. It made no sense to Magnus.

She puffed out her cheeks and thought for a moment. “He helped form Raven’s Roost into a proper town. We used to be vulnerable to bandits and those who sought to cause pain. He was stern but that kept us in shape. He used to be better. Genuinely. Not good, not at all, but not like this. His policies were never quite this harsh. I suppose he’s gotten greedy.”

“It’s senseless for him to dig this deep this quickly. If it continues like this, I don’t know that the town is going to last much longer.”

Julia said nothing. She knew Magnus was right but what was to be done about it? The two continued to unpack and put away items in silence.

“Papa won’t talk to me about how business is going here. Said he doesn’t want me to worry about things. How are we doing?” Julia looked at Magnus seriously.

He hesitated. Steven had specifically asked him to not discuss the business with Julia but when he saw her in front of him, firm hands anxiously picking at a sliver on the table, he found it hard to deny her.

“We’ve done better. I’m sure you’re aware the craftsmen corridor has been hit pretty hard by all the tariffs. Not only can we hardly afford to replace the tools and materials we need but the rest of the town can’t exactly afford our wares. We get the occasional customers,” he gestured to the bookshelf he’d been working on. “But we’re not doing great.”

Julia nodded and looked down. “That’s not exactly reassuring. But thanks for telling me.”

“Of course. Just don’t tell your dad I said anything,” he said sheepishly.

“Deal,” she said, glancing back at him with a smile.

Magnus sat on a bench outside the Hammer and Tongs and stared up at the moons. His teeth were chattering quietly but he wasn’t quite ready to turn in for the night. Isaiah Erksine, Kalen’s right-hand man, had distributed yet another list of tariffs and regulations to all the shops in Raven’s Roost earlier in the day. They were unconscionable; taxes and levies on every single scrap of material you could think of. Harsher curfews that made it nearly impossible for those in the craftsmen corridor to do much else besides make goods that nobody could afford. It was like the very essence of life was slowly being choked out of the town. Or, at the very least, the spirit of its inhabitants.

Magnus’s ruminative spiral was broken when he felt a thick, scratchy blanket draped over his shoulders. He glanced up and smiled; Julia, dressed far more sensibly than Magnus, darted a hand back through the doorway. In a moment, Magnus’s hands were wrapped around a piping hot mug of mint tea. Admittedly, the drink was more water than tea, but he drank it appreciatively.

“You seem troubled,” Julia mused, sipping from her own chipped mug.

“I am, Julia.” He confirmed, scooting over to make room on the bench. Julia mulled it over for a minute before sitting down. Heat was radiating off her like a fire and it took everything in Magnus to not immediately wrap his arms around her and hold her close. Though he did scoot a little closer. You know, to keep warm.

“I’d like to think that we could go a single week without tax hikes but it’s seeming more and more like a pipe dream,” she said flatly. “I hate this. I’ve lived among these people for as long as I can remember. Raven’s Roost is my home. When I was a little girl, I always used to think dream about the day that I’d get to raise my own family here. It felt like such a safe and warm place. And now…” She glanced at Magnus before she looked to the sky. “Now most days I feel like things might be easier if I just go somewhere else. And I don’t want that. I want to stay. I want to want to stay. I just don’t know that there’s going to be anything to stay for if this keeps up.”

“I want there to be something here for you,” Magnus murmured quietly, looking at Julia’s profile in the moonlight.

“Magnus, believe me, I don’t want to leave my home. I don’t want to leave –“ She looked at Magnus from the corner of her eye. “I don’t want to leave the people here. I just don’t think I can keep living under Kalen.”

“What if we don’t have to?” The words escaped Magnus’s mouth before he could even make sense of them himself.

Julia lurched and turned to look at Magnus, bewildered. “I’m sorry?”

Magnus had a choice. He could have easily retracted his statement. He could have laughed it off. But instead of thinking it over for any amount of time, he doubled down. “What if we don’t have to keep living under Kalen? What if we could still live here, in Raven’s Roost, but without that tyrant?”

Julia looked around before scooting closer to Magnus, their wind-chapped noses nearly touching. “Are you suggesting…” she took a breath, as though to steel herself. “Are you suggesting a revolt?”

Magnus could barely focus on the question with Julia this close to him. “I-I think I am,” his voice was near silent.

Julia nodded. “Okay. How’re we going to do this?”

Watery winter light did its best to penetrate the frost coated windows of the Hammer and Tongs. Magnus was idly whittling a piece of scrap wood. There weren’t any orders to work on and Candlenights was right around the corner; he figured he could fashion something homemade for both Julia and Steven.

His pocketknife nearly went flying out of his hand when the door of the shop burst open, startling him out of his focus. Standing in the doorway was a young earth genasi he recognized from town. He looked frantic and near tears. Magnus set his project down.

“Hey, Allura, what’s the matter?” Magnus asked, inviting the young man inside and shutting the door behind him.

“Magnus, it’s my dad,” Allura choked out. He looked gaunt and miserable; Magnus thought back to a few months ago when the entire Mountaindeep family came into the Hammer and Tongs, jovially talking about commissioning a crib, as a new baby was on the way. Allura, a kid all of fifteen, had chattered to him for ten minutes about how excited he was to become a big brother. He looked decidedly less excited in that moment.

“What happened?”

“W-we couldn’t pay the tariffs. My dad has been charging everyone half price. H-he said he couldn’t hike the prices up, it wasn’t right. And we couldn’t… Kalen took him away!” he cried, bordering on hysterical.

“Allura, buddy, you gotta breathe, okay? What do you mean Kalen took him?” Magnus led him to a chair.

“H-he hauled him off to the prison and I don’t know what’s gonna happen to him and my m-mom’s giving birth soon and I can’t help with that, I don’t know how,” He managed to get out, hiccupping between every few words, too distraught to calm down.

“Julia!” Magnus called up the staircase in the back of the shop. He had to get this kid to stop crying so he could get the full story and Julia tended to have a calming presence on, well, everyone.

In a moment, she appeared at the bottom of the stairs and sent Magnus a confused look. He nodded towards the crying teenager as explanation.

Julia rushed over, knelt down, and took Allura’s face in her thick hands. “Hey, hon, can you breathe with me?” she cooed gently. And for a few minutes, the shop was silent, save for Julia counting breaths for Allura.

“Can we hear the story again, bud?” Magnus asked quietly after a few moments.

Allura nodded and sniffled. “You guys know that Kalen raised the tariffs. Again. Um. My dad decided to slash his prices, not raise them to keep up. Said he couldn’t. He’s a big follower of Helm and he said it wasn’t right to keep medicines behind a steep price. He just wanted to help people. But Kalen came collecting today and he took my dad. And it’s not just him. He took Mr. Anvilrock and Sevara Mountainwillow and a few other people. And I don’t know what’s going to happen to them,” he said, his voice small and scared.

Magnus and Julia exchanged a look. She sent him a nod and turned back to Allura. “Okay. Thank you for telling us. Do you think that you can do us a favor?”

Allura furrowed his brow but nodded cautiously.

“Go around to the others in the craftsmen corridor and tell them to meet at the Hammer and Tongs tomorrow night? Just tell them it’s really important that everyone come. And if Kalen or his buddies ask you about it, be as vague as you can.” Magnus said seriously.

“If you’re asked about it, say that I’m teaching everyone how to patch their own clothes since Masden had to close down shop. ” Julia offered.

“But what about the curfew?” Allura asked, voice meek and eyes rimmed with red.

Magnus thought for a moment. “Tell everyone that we might have a way to keep us from having to worry about curfew ever again. I just need everyone to trust me.”

“I think I can do that.” Allura said, rising from the chair.

Julia patted him on the shoulder and slipped a gold piece into his hand. Before he could protest, she held her hand up and shooed him out the door.

Magnus rubbed his face for a moment. “Something’s gotta give, Jules.”

Julia reached a tentative hand out to squeeze Magnus’s hand quickly. “After tomorrow, I think something will. I hope.”

“Can either of you tell me why three separate people assured me that they’d do their best to make it to the shop tonight when I stopped in town a little bit ago?” Steven asked from the kitchen table.

Julia avoided her father’s gaze, busying herself with prepping tea instead.

Magnus focused intently on cracking eggs without getting any bits of shell in the bowl. He quickly whisked them together and held off on adding any salt or pepper to the mixture before setting them in the skillet. That was a little tip he picked up from—he thought for a moment—well, from his moms, he supposed. Apparently kept the egg from getting tough or something. He wasn’t really sure what that meant but followed the rule without fail. Made for good eggs, anyway.

“Am I just meant to be okay with the two of you encouraging our friends and neighbors to break the law to come over for a late-night chat?” A stern edge crept into Steven’s voice.

“Steven, we just wanted to have a meeting with the other craftsmen.”

“About what? What’s so important that it requires possibly getting some good people thrown in jail?”

“People are already getting thrown in jail!” Magnus protested. “Allura Mountaindeep came crying in here yesterday. His dad’s in prison, along with a handful of others who couldn’t pay. I just…Steven, you don’t have to agree with what we’re doing but you have to understand. I can’t keep sitting by and watch the town and people I love be beaten down by some big bully.”

Magnus returned his gaze to the eggs. The silence in the kitchen was broken by the teakettle’s shrill whistle.

“We have a plan. And hell, after tonight, it might not even be anything. But Papa, aren’t you tired of struggling? You can be as stoic as you like but I know the truth. This isn’t the life we should all be living. We should be able to have some shred of hope for a future that could matter. A future that isn’t just toiling until we die.” Julia stared at her father as she moved the kettle from the flame.

Steven stared back for a moment before glancing back at Magnus. He let out a sigh. “We can have the meeting but everyone is out before moonrise.”

Magnus and Julia smiled wide.

“Deal.” Magnus said, dividing the eggs between the three plates.

A hush fell over the group of craftmakers who all crammed into the Hammer and Tongs. It was a tight fit but it appeared that most of the corridor had managed to make the meeting. The sun had long since set, leaving only the meekest dregs of light hanging in the sky; moonrise was due in less than an hour. Magnus knew he had to make the meeting quick.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard of the few imprisonments that have come about as a result of Kalen’s new tariffs.” Magnus began, bouncing his gaze across those gathered in the shop.

A grumble of acknowledgement reverberated through the dense crowd.

“And I’m sure you all know that any of us could be subject to the same treatment just for being at this meeting.”

More noises of agreement bubbled up in the crowd.

“Then I’ll make it quick and worth your risk. I hate seeing Raven’s Roost like this. I know in my bones it could be better if things were different. I hate seeing everyone beaten down by these laws. I hate seeing Kalen’s friends allowed to do whatever they want, whenever they want, and never see any kind of repercussions for it. I’m sick of seeing people starving in the streets. Sick of seeing families torn apart because one of them had the audacity to be a kind person. I want Raven’s Roost to be a flourishing place.” He glanced over to Julia and pink stained his cheeks. “I want to be able to raise a family here. I want to want that. But as it stands, I don’t know that I can imagine a future for Raven’s Roost. I don’t know how many of us can last like this for much longer.”

“And what exactly are you proposing we do about it?” Hector Anvilrock, another metalworker in town, demanded.

“We’re proposing a revolution.” Magnus said simply.

The shop erupted in conversation. It began civil enough but quickly devolved into name calling and accusations of espionage and snitching. Magnus’s stomach dropped. He knew it wasn’t going to be an easy sell but if this was any indication, he feared for the future of any kind of revolution.

“Enough!” Julia said, climbing onto a chair. She was already taller than Magnus and nearly as broad so the added height made her the single most imposing figure in the room, though her warm brown eyes added an air of compassion. “I understand it’s a scary thought. But do we really think it’s a better idea to just roll over and get kicked? Sure, Kalen has numbers and power and resources. But we actually have something worth fighting for. We have the most skilled craftspeople on the continent. We have conviction. And we have a goal.” She sighed and rubbed her hand down her face. “I understand if any of you are scared or apprehensive. I won’t make demands. I won’t beg. I want you all to join us but I won’t look down on you for not getting involved. I just want to know that we can trust you.”

She glanced over at Magnus who was watching her, stars in his eyes. She raised her eyebrows at him and sent him a tiny nod.

“Well?” He asked, seeming to snap out of his daze. “Can we trust all of you?”

It felt like the entire show was holding its breath until Hector nodded. And then Allura. And then Therala. One by one, each person in attendance gave a silent pledge.

Magnus grinned, relief flooding his veins. This was only the first step, but they’d already hurdled over it with grace. He was certain they’d be able to make Raven’s Roost a safe place for all someday.

#taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #magnulia #magnus burnsides #julia burnsides #tazb #reese writes #i believe in big buff julia burnsides supremacy #the adventure zone balance #also shout out to me for snatching the rest of these names from the dnd campaign i am currently in <3 #taz balance fic #fic

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karmasuna · 4 years

Text

— 𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗱, 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗵𝗼𝘁

+ todoroki shoto. fluff, w/c: 1k

synopsis: your hands are cold and todoroki offers to help. that’s it that’s the fic

note: italics abuse do be warned, and thank you to todoroki wife @datecho for beta-ing!

“why is it so cold,” you cry, rubbing your hands vigorously together to no avail. “i wish i had like, socks for my hands or something.”

“there are socks for your hand, dumbass. they’re called gloves,” bakugo snorts, taking delight in how you're currently staring at your hands like they’ve betrayed you in a past life.

“you’re right. i can’t believe you’re right for once, bakugo,” you sigh, sticking your hands under your thighs and the chair. “it’s not fair that you never get cold.”

“hah. you wish you were me. go ask lover boy to warm you up or something, your whining’s fuckin’ annoying.”

the blonde doesn’t even have to utter a name to turn you in a squirming mess, trying (and failing miserably) to suppress the smile that creeps onto your face just from thinking about him.

“gross,” bakugo groans. “look, i’ll even help you. just get the fuck outta my face.”

before you can protest he plucks an eraser off your table and hurls it in todoroki’s direction at a terrifying velocity. there’s nothing you can do but watch in horror as the eraser buries itself into the back of midoriya’s head, sending him stumbling into iida’s arms in front of him.

you stand there in silence and pure regret as midoriya stumbles back up, iida already having shoved the poor boy into todoroki’s care and wasting no time in storming over to reprimand your explosive friend.

“why the hell did you throw it at midoriya,” you hiss, feeling guilty that he was so viciously attacked for no reason.

“gee, i thought you wouldn’t want icy hot to have a dent in his head,” bakugo retorts, not sounding the least bit guilty as iida proceeds to chew him out.

when you’re sure iida’s not looking you make your way over to the other side of the classroom where midoriya currently sits with an ice pack pressed to the point of impact, courtesy of todoroki.

“hey, midoriya. sorry about that,” you say sheepishly as you pull out a chair to sit down next to him, giving todoroki a small wave.

nice and easy, you remind yourself, trying to calm the hurricane in your stomach, you’ll be fine.

midoriya’s laugh is cut midway when he winces, the throbbing in his head presumably not a welcome sensation.

“it’s fine, kacchan’s always like this. it’s not your fault,” he replies with the most painful looking smile you’d ever seen, though he seems to relax a bit when todoroki starts to apply more pressure to the spot.

“actually, it kind of is my fault,” you sigh, trying your best to keep yourself focused on midoriya right in front of you and not todoroki looking all attractive just standing there.

“bakugo got annoyed at me and that’s why this happened. so i’m sorry, really.” gesturing lamely at him, hoping you’d suddenly develop some kind of telepathy power to spare yourself from revealing the more embarrassing parts of the conversation.

“for what? i’ll talk to him for you if he did anything.” todoroki speaks up, and it takes all of your willpower not to swoon as you look up to meet his eyes.

“ah, it’s really nothing,” you assure him. “my hands were just, um, cold and bakugo said i was being annoying. nothing serious.”

todoroki frowns a little at that, lips forming a small pout. you wish you could kiss it away. suddenly you’re grateful for the chair you’re in, since you have no idea whether you’d be able to stand how cute he’s acting right now.

“you could’ve asked me. i have a heat-regulating quirk,” he points out, as if you hadn’t spent hours on end thinking about how perfect of a cuddle buddy he would be any season of the year.

“right. yeah. i knew that,” you say dumbly, eyes darting to midoriya for help. said boy isn’t being of much assistance having stiffened up awkwardly, crushed under the knowledge of being stick as the third wheel.

“i’d just end up annoying you though. my hands are cold all the time so i’m used to it, really.”

todoroki’s about to respond when midoriya abruptly stands up, grabbing the ice from his friend and all but breaking into a sprint towards the classroom door. “i’m gonna go see recovery girl! you two have fun talking, alright?”

“wait-“ todoroki’s words go by unnoticed as midoriya swiftly makes his escape, drawing out a long sigh from the boy. “he’s going to get detention for injuring himself again.”

you chuckle lightly, rubbing your hands together as subtly as you can to get some warmth.

your stealth efforts are in vain though, and when todoroki notices he wastes no time in taking one of your hands in his, wrapping his fingers around your smaller ones to trap in the warmth.

it feels like the ice on your fingertips is thawing away as you visibly slump in relief, sighing happily about your newfound warmth.

you’re so distracted by the sensation that you barely notice the warmth pooling in todoroki’s cheeks as he watches you relax more than he’s ever seen you.

“next time just ask, okay? i’ll keep you warm whenever.”

todoroki’s soft, nervous words snap you out of your warmth-filled haze, and you become acutely aware of the situation you’re in.

todoroki shoto, most eligible bachelor of all of ua, hell, maybe even japan, is holding your hand and he’s being shy about it.

thank god you’re sitting, you think again. because your legs are shaking and your face is burning so much that you’re sure he can feel it, or hear the racing of your heartbeat banging against your insides.

with all the blood pumping louder and louder in your veins all you can do is nod dumbly. the way the worry collapses from his face into a small, relieved smile helps you steady your own mind too.

“do you want to go to the cafeteria? we should go buy lunch before they run out,” you suggest lightly, keeping your tone as calm as possible. the boy’s eyes light up, and you have to stifle a laugh at the look of quiet determination in his eyes. he tugs on your hand gently to pull you up and towards his beloved soba.

“you’re right, they might run out of soba soon. we should go now.”

he never lets go of your hand once.

#bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha headcanons #mha scenarios #bnha fluff #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki headcanons #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shoto fluff

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marvelfansince08love · 3 years

Text

Hey Neighbour! - Part 8

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader

Warning: uhh some implications of sex

A/N: Hi, a big big sorry to you all on the late updates to this. I have no self control and have far too many WIP rn and keep forgetting to update this one as I’ve almost finished it! Happy reading! Apologise for any grammar/spelling mistakes x

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @creepingwolfberry @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @minavenable @pearplate @r0an0ke @mssallymckenna @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @venablemayfairgoode @chewbacca0805 @pluied-ete @supremeinlilac @nyx-aira @witchxaf @black--widxw @fireflyglass @cordeliafoxxe @d14n4ol @bluevelvetbitxh @amethyst-bitch @lezzzbehonesthere @msvenablezcane @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @mooreashes @violentwavesofem0tion @cordeliass @women-am-i-right @paulsonpills @goodeday2u @sm0ke-and-m1rr0rs @daisybri7

Hey Neighbour! - Part 8

You had avoided the Mayfair-Richards home for the past five days unable to face the woman you had fallen in love with. Old wounds and insecurities had opened up causing you to retreat from your neighbours, Amelia had also picked up on your change of mood which caused the guilt to amplify. The two young children still saw each other at school leading Amelia to mention how Oz had told her how sad his mother looked whenever she did the dishes at night, to anyone else they would have been bewildered by the statement but for you it was like a stab to the heart. Ally had tried to call and text you to ask if you were okay, your short texts back and actively declining calls must have given her the hint that you didn’t want to be contacted because after the first three days she stopped trying. You hated yourself for doing this to her but you couldn’t help but fall back into the familiar withdrawal habit whenever you felt this way, no matter who you hurt in the process.

“Mama, I’m finished!” Amelia announces, smiling proudly at her empty plate. You’re startled out of your thoughts as you look towards her matching her wide smile with a forced one. Your brother sits next to her as his eyes stay fixated on your form, concern evident within his gaze.

“Well done, Amelia-cakes! Why don’t you go wash your hands and brush your teeth for bed,” you instruct softly, watching as she nods and dashes out of the room. You quickly make eye contact with him as you lean forward keeping your voice low so to not alert Amelia of the intense situation..

“I wish you would stop looking at me like that,” you whisper harshly, he only shakes his head mutely before responding.

“I just don’t understand why you’re making yourself and her miserable, you clearly like each other a lot. Don’t ruin this just because you’re allowing your negative thoughts to take over,” his voice soft and gentle causing you to falter, expecting a harsher response. Sighing you relax back before taking a sip from the wine glass.

“Will you please help Amelia upstairs while I clean up here?” you ask instead, attempting to avoid the current topic of conversation. He sighs in defeat before dutifully leaving the room to find his niece.

You stand from your chair and collect the empty plates before moving towards the sink, as you begin to clean the dishes you notice a slightly dimmed light across the way causing you to tense, slowly you look up from your task and towards the light. Ally stands at her kitchen counter, even from here you can see how tired she looks causing that familiar guilt to creep up into your chest once more. She looks down for a few moments before placing a large piece of paper into the window, words written in black ink for you to read.

‘I think we need to talk’ The words cause you to gulp as you nod back before searching for some spare paper to write back on.

‘Garden in ten?’ you try to smile hoping to ease the situation but falter when she doesn’t return it and only nods back in acknowledgment.

Wiping your hands on a dry towel you hurriedly move upstairs to inform your brother of your plan, he reassures you that he’ll be fine with Amelia while you go to talk to Ally giving you an encouraging smile before shoving you back towards the staircase. Grabbing your thick jacket and shoes you make your way towards the front of Ally’s home, waiting patiently for her to let you in. Your breath catches in your throat as you take her in, the urge to reach out and hold her becoming stronger with each passing second, brown tired eyes scan your face before silently standing to the side allowing you to move in. You head straight for the kitchen and into the garden area sitting down in your usual spot, you wait for her to join you. A hot cocoa mug appears in front of your view causing you to smile sadly as you take it from her hands muttering a quick ‘thank you’. It’s quiet and dark out except for the porch light that glows above you, both sitting quietly as you take a sip of the hot drink.

“Ally I-”

“Why weren’t you honest with me? If there was something wrong you should have told me instead of practically falling off the face of the earth,” her statement catches you off guard, causing you to falter as you stare at the mug in your hand.

“After she left me and Amelia I was struggling for a while, I couldn’t cope with working and looking after a baby full time but I had this beautiful girl to look out for so she became my top priority over everything, my job, my friends. It took me years before I could trust others outside of my family to take care of her. I’m not good at having these healthy relationships that are good for me and I am so sorry that I’ve treated you this way, you deserve better than this,” you mutter, tears gathering within your blurred vision.

“I understand how hard it can be to trust people, I mean you know about Ivy and how she betrayed me, betrayed Oz. I get why you got scared when things were looking serious, I’ve had my moments with that too but Y/N I’m not like her and you aren’t like Ivy.” She pauses, collecting her thoughts before continuing.

“We are good people and I don’t think it was a coincidence that it was you who so happened to move in next door… that night after the fair apart from Oz I’ve never been so certain about anything in my life, I want to be with you and I want this to go somewhere but I need you to speak to me and be honest with me,” Ally tilts her head as if seeking your gaze before reaching across and grabbing your hand.

“I’m so so sorry, Ally. I should have spoken to you about my worries, I’m not used to someone caring. I just looked at how comfortable we all were in your kitchen that morning, how domestic it all was and my god I couldn’t have fallen further for you but my mind was screaming at me that if I allowed Amelia to become closer to you and you decided to leave… I can’t have another person walk out on her.. On me,” you stutter over your words as you feel your throat tighten, holding back a sob. Ally moves from her seat and crouches in front of you placing your mug onto the table she takes both your hands into her own, squeezing them with reassurance.

“I love you y/n. This week has been tortuous the amount of times I thought about walking over and forcing you to speak to me, but I knew you needed time to collect your thoughts. I may not have been obvious with it but I could tell something had spooked you that morning but please come and talk to me whenever you feel trapped into a corner, okay?” her dark brows arch, as she waits for your response. As you nod Ally reaches upwards and captures your salty lips with her own, her warm comforting hands cupping your face in place.

Tears continue to fall between you both as Ally presses gentle kisses along your jaw and cheeks seeking out that comforting touch, you realise that you were wrong. Ally isn’t like the rest of them, she’s kind and caring but most of all she understands you in a way that no one else can relate to. You quickly capture her lips, a heated kiss needing to feel her close.

“Is Oz upstairs?”

“No, he’s staying at a friends house,” she mumbles, against your lips. Pulling back you look into her slightly glazed eyes and demand the thing you need most.

“Take me to bed, Ally.”

With that, Ally grabs your hand and leads you back inside the house. The moonlight glows throughout the room giving you a clear view of Ally’s face as you allow her to look after you, whispering soft reassurances against your exposed skin leaving trails of wet kisses along your body, closing your eyes you surrender yourself to this woman finally allowing yourself to be loved without restrictions.

***

Bright light beams through into the bedroom causing you to stir and groan at the invasive light cuddling into the softness of Ally’s chest enjoying her warmth and secure form wrapped around you. Lips graze against your hair as the brunette whispers a ‘Good Morning’ causing you to smile as you watch her fingers brush over your forearm that has stayed wrapped around her waist all night.

“Good Morning, Honey. Did you sleep well?” your fake-innocence doesn’t pass Ally as she chuckles deeply, her hand moving to tilt your chin upwards causing your lips to brush against her swollen ones.

“Deliciously actually,” her hoarse voice, makes you shiver before you capture her lips once more enjoying the sounds that escape her throat.

The sound of the front door opening downstairs and quick footsteps making their way upstairs causes you to part suddenly, blindly reaching for your scattered clothes recognizing those footsteps from anywhere.

“Mom!!” Oz’s voice shouts from the hallway, causing you to quickly cover up and head for the en-suite bathroom needing to freshen up before the poor boy sees you. Ally’s eyes follow after your retreating form in light amusement as she tucks on the woolly jumper and ties the string around her joggers.

“Mom I’m home! We had such a cool night! Jeremy bought over his new racing car you know the one with the remote it was awesome!” Oz’s excited voice trails into the room as he runs straight for Ally’s legs hugging her tightly, she places her hands on top of his crazy blonde curls and smiles.

“Well it certainly sounds like you had fun! So where is Sam’s mom? You didn’t just run from her car without saying thank you did you?” Ally’s tone makes you smile as you peak through the gap of the bathroom door always infatuated with her motherly side. Oz tries to hide his expression but with one raised eyebrow from Ally the boy slumps and sighs before nodding.

“It’s okay Ally! He was just excited to see you! Oz I’ve left your bag by the door okay,” Sam’s mom shouts from the staircase before the sound of the front door closing reaches your ears. Taking this as your cue you leave the bathroom just as the sound of screeching reaches your ears, a small body colliding with your own making you stumble.

“Woah! Hey Buddy!” you greet with a groan, laughing as you place you cup your hand around his jaw cradling him close. A sense of guilt lingering within your chest, the realisation what your actions could have done to the poor boy being the same fear you have for Amelia.

“I’ve missed you,” he mumbles into your stomach, you crouch to be eye level with him and give him the biggest smile you could muster.

“I’m sorry for not being around much, silly adults and silly work has been keeping me busy. I promise to make it up to you,” you murmur, watching as he nods accepting your apology before turning to leave to grab his backpack from downstairs. You stand from your position and fold your arms across your chest, that unsettling feeling still present, Ally steps towards you and places her hands onto your cheeks before kissing your lips.

“Stop, I can practically hear the gears turning in that beautiful head of yours. Now let’s go downstairs. I want to see my girl.” Her words cause you to raise a question eyebrow as your lips twitch into a half grin.

“Oh?”

Ally grins wickedly, before stepping towards the door. “I meant Amelia silly.”

With that she winks and takes her leave leaving you agape.

“Well I know my place then,” you grumble playfully before running after the mischievous Senator.

As if on cue the sound of the front door stops you both in your tracks midway down the stairs, Ally moves to answer the door and beams when she sees Amelia stood with her Uncle who has a very dirty grin on his face as his eyes move from Ally to you wiggling his brows as Ally crouches down and fronds over Amelia who seems to be enjoying the attention from her favourite person.

“Uncle Rupert said you guys had a sleepover without me, Ms. Ally!” she exclaims, a small pout forming onto her lips and you bite your own to stop your laughter. From the shakes coming from Ally’s shoulder the woman seems to be doing the same.

“Oh sweetheart I’m so sorry, I promise we can have soon okay? Just me and your mom needed to have a grown-up sleepover to talk.”

“Yeah I bet you did,” Rupert mumbles, amusement evident within his tone. You glare at him from your position as Oz comes running from the living room area, he instantly goes to hug his friend as he drags her further into the house telling her all about his sleepover. Rupert waits by the door as Ally gives him a shy hello before following the two leaving you to talk privately to the smug man.

“Not a word,” you demand, making sure to punctuate every word, it only seems to make him grin further. He shrugs putting his hands up in surrender as he steps through the door meeting you at the bottom of the staircase.

“So are we back on then? Oh and no need to thank me for looking after the devil's spawn last night, I swear she just knows what to do to make me crumble. I didn’t even know you still owned a Nintendo Wii,” he rants, as you both walk towards the kitchen where Ally sits with the two children all drinking from their respective mugs. Rupert goes to sit next to Amelia as he steals her mug to take a sip as she glares at him. You shake your head at the two before clashing eyes with Ally who winks over her mug gesturing you over which you gladly do. Stood behind her you wrap your arms around her shoulders and listen as they all converse amongst themselves enjoying these rare moments that you will hold dearly, smiling you kiss Ally’s temple before relaxing joining in on the conversation.

Now relaxed you allow the past to stay at the back of your mind as you look forward to the future, a secret plan up your sleeve you allow the details to rail off within your head excited to show Ally just how much she means to you and how do you do that?

By going official, of course.

#ally mayfair richards x reader #ally mayfair richards #ally mayfair imagine #ally mayfair x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #ahs cult #american horror story #hey neighbour! series #my work

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yyxgin · 4 years

Text

LO-FI CHILDREN — YANG JEONGIN

pairing: childhood best friend! yang jeongin x fem! reader genre: coming of age (??), best friends to lovers au, kind of slow-burn, fluff, a tiny bit of angst word count: 9.5 k warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, a lot of internal angsty monologue

YOUNGBLOOD DRABBLES

synopsis: your last two weeks before the end of summer break bring you a new sense of anxiety as you fear losing everything you’re used to.

“THROUGH HEAVEN AND HIGH WATER.”

Light shade falls into the space of Jeongin’s room, the room you’ve spent most of your days in the past three years of high school, the room you’ve made most of your high school memories at, while you sigh heavily at the thought of leaving next week and not having the comfort of coming back to it every day after school. The room has memories everywhere you look - from the polaroids you cheesily gifted your friend on his last birthday in a cute shoe box, from which he took them out and stuck them to the wall beside his bed, as if he wanted the comfort of looking at them the last moment before going to sleep and the first moment of waking up in the morning - to the medals from useless school competitions on his bulletin board on the opposite wall, to which you accompanied him every single time. You mourn at the feeling of losing something, even though in reality, it’s not your best friend you’re losing. It’s the routine you’re going to miss.

“I’m gonna miss your room, Jeongin,” you snicker, seeing your best friend playfully glare at you with a pained look on his face he pulls out every time you tease him for something.

“Woah, one would think you’d miss me out of everything, but yeah, I get it, my room plays a much more important role in your life than my presence itself,” rolls his eyes the dimpled boy, causing you to snicker. Of course you’re going to miss him. You’re going to miss everything from his playful teasing to his caring nature he showed to you rarely, and when he did, it was disguised in a form of short glances and noisy questions.

“I just don’t like the idea of coming home from school and not having the comfort of your room right when I need it,” you giggle, shrugging. It was his presence in the room that you’re going to miss the most, though. But you weren’t cheesy like that to say it to his face out loud. Maybe if you didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be true. As if you didn’t want to admit it to the world. If you don’t say it, it doesn’t exist. That’s how it works, right?

“You’re going to have the comfort of your new college dorm room, and that is just as good. If not better,” grins Jeongin, and in a sense, he’s right. Your college is just what you’ve always dreamed of, from the literature major you’ve chosen long time ago to the way dorms just look way more comfortable than your own, small room at your house. You bet the college is filled with educated and smart people you’ve always wanted to accompany yourself with, from the cool hipster girls you’ve only read about in your young adult books to smart guys with cute rounded glasses and alternative rock music playing in their headphones. It’s everything you dreamed of and more. And you got in. That’s the path you’ve chosen for yourself in your life. You think you made the right decision. It definitely feels right to you.

The only thing that feels wrong is that Jeongin is no longer going to be by your side every day of your boring life. Yang Jeongin has always been there for you. Every single day of your high school experience, every single day of your growing up. He was there when you got your first goldfish and he was there when you had to flush it down the toilet after forgetting to feed it for a few days. He was there when you cried on pepero day, because your poor self got no snacks when you were ten, making him share his sweets with you and tickling you until you cried of laughter, because that was his only way of cheering you up at that time. He watched you grow. And you watched him grow. You were like two trees in a garden, roots intertwined, because they grew at the same place. You shared your childhood with him. But now, the branches of each of your trees were growing apart, and you didn’t like the fact that you’re no longer going to grow side by side.

“But you’re not going to be in my college room, Jeong,” you snicker casually, as if to not show your vulnerable side to him now, when the reality is closer than ever and the day of your departure feels the realest it ever did.

“At least I won’t be there to annoy you anymore,” he grins, but there’s something behind his words and not so sparkly eyes that you understand all too very well. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. And neither do you. You both know the day will once come that you have to say the hurtful words, but the day was not today. So you’ll both just act like you don’t think about it every second of your miserable summer days, until the day comes and you can finally let it all out.

“I like your annoying, though,” you smirk, already missing the way he would always tease you about your good grades or when you foolishly got pouty over the smallest things, “life is boring without all your drama.”

“It’s not drama, excuse me? We have Hyunjin for that,” he giggles at the thought of his older friend who graduated just a year ago. You haven’t seen him in a while either. The fact that all your older friends left the town for college and came back only for holidays made you sick to your stomach, because that’s what you’re going to do now. With no contact with your small hometown and your childhood friends, with no contact with your family other than video calls and visiting them on their birthdays. What if the unbreakable bond you had with them breaks? What if you no longer feel like you belong to the small town when you come back one day? You feel like that would crush you the most. Not feeling like at home anymore.

“Whatever you say, Jeongin,” you mumble, coming closer to him and throwing yourself at his body laying on the bed. It’s nothing unusual for the two of you, considering you were called the biggest cuddlebug right after your friend Felix, but something about the gesture feels like you’re hugging him one of the last times in a long time. But this isn’t your last opportunity, so why does it feel like one?

His arms automatically hold you around the waist, your nose nuzzling into his neck. The smell of your best friend is all too familiar to you, and the softness of his bedsheets feels like coming home. You wonder if you’ll be able to get that feeling in your new dorm room, telling yourself that you’ll probably have to wash your sheets with the same fabric softener to feel like that again. You feel his heartbeat under you, your heart swelling at the giggle that escapes his lips when you shuffle a little on top of him to get yourself to a more comfortable position. Your head ends up at his chest, legs intertwined like the roots of the trees in his backyard, rosy cheeks reminding you of the heat of the summer that’s currently creeping on you outside of the house. It reminds you of the last week of summer. The last week you have with your best friend by your side.

“Why couldn’t you just choose the same college as me?” you ask, lips pouty. You know it’s a selfish question. You know Jeongin could probably ask you the same, but he wouldn’t. Because it seems he is much more accepting of the situation than you are. Jeongin has always been the more reasonable between the two of you.

“Because I don’t like literature.” he laughs under you, making your whole body shake with the impact.

“And? There are plenty of majors to choose from, at least we’d still be studying in the same building.” you mumble. You silently curse at yourself for sounding so needy and desperate. But the truth is, Jeongin is the only thing you are sure of in your life. And you aren’t ready for the feeling of security to go away.

“But there’s no acting major there.” he says, smoothing your back to relax your tense muscles. Does he realise how hard it is for you? Probably yes. He knows you like the back of his hand.

You bite on the chapped skin of your lips for a while, sighing. “I know. Sorry,” you say, voice low and defeated, “I shouldn’t be acting like this. It’s just…” you mumble, not being able to say it. You can’t say you’re going to miss him, because that would make it true.

“I know,” he sighs, poking your sides a little with his pointer finger, tickling you, reminding you of the way he used to do it when you were nine and he didn’t know how to talk about feelings yet, cutting off your sentence with an unspoken sense of understatement, “but the fact that we’re going to different college doesn’t change anything in our friendship, you know that, right?”

“Of course,” you hurriedly nod, looking into his eyes with sincerity, “I know. You can’t just earease our whole childhood with one stupid college.”

“Right,” he giggles, lightening up at the sight of your smile. It does look a little sad, but it’s enough for him. It’s the sign that you’re at least trying to look at it from the brighter side. “I’m always going to be the one to annoy you.”

“Right.” you nod, grinning, “nobody will ever take your place.”

“Nobody on this whole entire world,” he smirks, “not even a lanky indie boy with a book in his hand you dream of so bad, right?”

You laugh at his remark, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

“Tell me, why exactly do you choose to water your plants at night?” giggles Jeongin at your figure pacing around your tiny room with a glass of water in your hand, because you didn’t manage to buy yourself a proper watering can in the long five years of owning the beautiful greenery. You turned to taking care of plants and flowers after the disaster that was your first and only goldfish, because it seemed like much less work than to look after an animal, but you always forgot to water your plants when you were supposed to and only came to think of it at late nights full of overthinking, when your legs hurriedly shot up and you turned to water the poor creatures so you wouldn’t forget about it in the morning.

“They like it that way,” you say instead, grinning at your stupid excuse, “and be quiet, my parents are already sleeping and I don’t need my mum to come here and shout at me again like the last time.”

This was probably your last sleepover of this year. You had sleepovers at each other’s places quite often, but you chose your room as the destination 9 out of 10 times, because Jeongin had siblings and it was easier to have some privacy at your house, considering you were an only child.

“Right, right,” he whisper-shouts and puts a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to muffle his giggling. The memory of your mother with baby pink hair-curlers comes into your mind, the image of her shouting at the two of you to shut up because she has to go to work the next morning appearing much more funnier in the late hours of night than it originally was. She told you you two weren’t allowed to have any more sleepovers that night, but you both knew that was just a meaningless threat just so you two would be quiet already, because truth be told, sometimes you felt like she liked your best friend more than she liked her own daughter.

“So,” you shigh out as you plop to the bed next to him, the two of you passing the stage of one of you sleeping in a sleeping bag at the floor long, long time ago, “what were we talking about?”

“Oh, that,” he lights up at the mention of the previous topic of your conversation, sitting up so he is now resting his back against the wall next to your bed, glancing at your figure lazily lying next to him, “my parents are going away on the last saturday of the summer. And they're taking my siblings with them.”

You sigh again, knowing damn well where the conversation is going already. “And?”

“And the two of us are leaving on sunday. So that means…” he trails off, wanting you to finish his sentence like you always used to with his stupid ideas.

“That means…?” you act stupid, not really fond of his idea this time.

“That means I can throw my last high school house party!” he cheers, hands up in the air in a winning gesture, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You mean your first and last high school house party?”

“Exactly,” he nods with a big grin on his face, the proudness of finally being able to do that overflowing on his features, but it disappears soon as he notices you don’t mirror his happy expression and look uninterested instead.

“Hey, why aren’t you excited?” he asks, brows furrowed.

“It’s a stupid idea,” you shrug, simply looking away from your best friend gazing at you from under his long eyelashes, looking around your room instead, as if you didn’t know every single centimeter of it by heart already.

“Why do you think so? It’s not. And it’s also the last time I can invite all of our friends to hang out before they leave for college as well,” he says, thinking of all of your older friends that left for college before you and whom you dearly missed every single day of high school, because it wasn’t the same without your big group.

The 9-member friend group started slowly getting smaller and smaller once Chan and Minho graduated. Changbin graduated a year after that, leaving you with a 6-member friend group, which was still bearable and your table was still the loudest one at lunch, but after Felix, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Jisung graduated, the school halls became empty with only the two of you - the youngest ones of the group, remaining in high school. At least you still had each other. You really don’t know what you’d do without Jeongin by your side.

“Your mum would be mad if she found out,” you mumble, not meeting his eyes.

“And? She can’t stay mad at me for long when I’m leaving on sunday, she’ll get over it.” he shrugs, “come on, Y/N, I’m only gonna invite the nine of us, if it bothers you so much.”

“I just… I don’t know,” you sigh, finally meeting his eyes, “I don’t feel like throwing a party.”

“Stop being so melodramatic already,” teases you Jeongin, but you see something behind his eyes shift at your saddened expression. Is it really that hard for you? He hoped a party would surely cheer you up and make you forget about having to leave at least for one evening. He would be fine without a party, for sure, but he thought seeing your friends one last time would be good for you. He teases you, but you know what he means by his words. He wants you to stop being melodramatic, because he wants you to be happy. You’re not a bother to him when you’re sad, he just likes your smile much better than your frown. Because your smile, at least, doesn’t break his heart.

“Fine,” you sigh out after a while spent by a staring contest with your best friend trying to cheer you up by putting on silly expressions, “but only if you invite the 9 of us only.”

“Of course,” he nods with a grin, finally settling next to you on your bed and hugging you around the waist so you can cuddle up to him safely. He was rarely the one to initiate the cuddling between the two of you, but recently, he knows you need his cuddles more and more. Perhaps he feels like he’ll miss them too.

You huff out when he lands next to you, securing your hands around his on your waist, looking up to the ceiling. You’re not so fond of the idea of a party. Sure, it would be great to meet all your friends before leaving to all go your own ways a day later, but the idea of spending time with someone just to lose them the next week, in a way, makes you feel kind of sad.

You also wish you could just spend your last days with Jeongin. You’re acting like a clingy girlfriend, and you’re very much aware of that, but you can’t help it. You’ve spent all your days with Jeongin and nobody else last year. You share a special bond with him. You feel like once he’s not only one call or a 10 minute walk to his house away, something will be missing inside of you. It’s silly.

But can anyone really blame you?

“I wanna do something spontaneous before the summer ends,” you mourn out, sitting at the front porch of Jeongin’s house, the darkness of the summer night enveloping you like a warm blanket. You were supposed to be home a long time ago, but you guess your mother doesn’t really care where you are as long as she knows you’re with Jeongin. That, and you also heard her calling Jeongin’s mum a little while ago when you didn’t arrive home before your curfew, being notified by Mrs Yang that you may be staying over tonight. Actually, you had no idea if you’re staying over. You had no idea where this night was taking you. You just knew you felt empty, you felt bored. As if the summer was wasted.

“Like what?” asks Jeongin, kicking a rock under his black shoe, watching it bounce away from the front porch, glancing up at you right after.

“I don’t know. Like… dye my hair blue or something,” you laugh out, looking at him, “I just wanna do something, you know?” you snicker.

“Let’s do it, then,” he grins at you, standing up from his position next to you on the stairs and reaching out a hand for you to take.

“Let’s do what?”

“Let’s dye your hair blue,” he shrugs, looking at you with sparkling eyes, the lampposts behind his head making him look as if he had a halo around his head.

“Oh hell no, that was a joke,” you laugh out, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Yeah, and the mourning about wanting blue hair for the past two months was a joke as well, right?” grins Jeongin, still standing at his place with an out-stretched hand to you, “let’s go!”

“Let’s go where? We don’t even have dye and I can’t dye my hair on my own, and I’m enrolling in college on monday, I can’t show up with a blue head!” you mourn out, but giggle nonetheless, finding the idea amusing in a way.

“That’s not a problem, we can get that box dye in the convenience store. And I bet all the tall lanky literature major boys will fall on their asses when they see a cute girl with blue hair on their first day of college,” says Jeongin and forcefully makes you stand up on your own two feet, taking you by surprise by his compliment.

“Yeah, watch me fuck it all up and look like a sad blueberry on my first day of college,” you giggle, but follow his steps that are most likely heading to the convenience store.

“I will do it for you, you know I’m an expert at hair dye,” laughs out Jeongin, making you crack up at his comment.

“Jeong, bleaching your head once in eighth grade doesn’t count for being an expert at hair dye and you know that.” you roll your eyes, but still follow his footsteps with your hand in his, swinging your hands forward and backward like little children on a playground play-dating for the first time.

“As far as I’m concerned, it surely does.”

“It didn’t even look good in the first place, how am I supposed to trust you with my hair?” you laugh, seeing his playfully hurt expression accompanied by a dramatic gasp worth of Hwang Hyunjin himself.

“You told me it looked good back then!” he pouts.

“And I lied.” you shrug, “things like that happen.”

“This is such a bad idea, Jeongin, I will throw up, I swear to god-”

“Oh my god, chill, woman, it’s going perfectly fine!” giggles Jeongin and shows the glass of cheap wine you bought along-side with your box dye in the convenience store almost half an hour ago to your face with his hand dirty from the blue dye.

“You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.” you roll your eyes and drink the bitter liquid nonetheless, thinking that if it’s going to turn out horribly, at least you won’t register it at first if you’re drunk enough to not notice it.

“I’m not drunk,” giggles Jeongin as he smears another blob of hair dye onto the roots of your hair, “just a little tipsy.”

“Oh no,” you laugh out, knowing damn well Jeongin’s ‘just a little tipsy’ means ‘I can hardly know which one is you because I am seeing you twice’.

You two are currently sitting in his bathroom, you with your back turned to the mirror so you don’t have to see the disaster that is currently happening on your head, much better to Jeongin, because the light shines from that side and he can see what he’s doing better this way. It’s 2 in the morning and the cheap wine is starting to taste better after every gulp and truth be told, neither of you drink much and you only decided to do so tonight, because Jeongin kept whining about how he hasn’t used his ID to buy alcohol yet and he is now legally allowed to do so. You bought cheap wine, but forgot to buy plastic gloves, though. At least your hair isn’t going to be the only blue mess left when you wake up in the morning and Jeongin will pay for your spontaneous idea as well. With his stained hands, and his stained t-shirt too.

“Stop moving around, you’re making it difficult,” laughs Jeongin, praying in his head his mother doesn’t wake up and chime in to the bathroom to see the disaster happening, because even though he is a legal adult, he is one hudred percent sure she’ll confusticate his cheap wine and wash off your blue hair dye before it even has the chance to work.

“Are you sure it’s me moving or is it your head that’s spinning?” you giggle, finishing the glass of wine and putting it on the floor while your best friend’s hands are still in your head, your movement causing him to spread some hair dye all over your forehead. “Oh my god it’s in my eyes!” you laugh out, quickly shutting them so they won’t burn.

“No it’s not, you stupid, you just have it all over your forehead,” he grins and continues working, threading his fingers through your locks, your body leaning forward to the head of the chair he stole from the kitchen, relaxing.

“That feels good,” you mumble, noticing the way your sentence might sound a little weird in his ears and feeling your cheeks burn up instantly. You really do sound stupid sometimes, don’t you?

“What does?” he furrows his brows at you, clueless.

“You playing with my hair,” you confess, laughing a little to ease the tension you feel.

“Oh, does it?” he smirks, scratching a little at your scalp, earning a little whine from your lips that makes him giggle. “And we’re done!” he smiles as he stops, taking a step back to admire your blue, messily covered head.

“And now we wait,” you giggle, hearing him washing his hands in the sink, even though it doesn’t help him drown out the blue that is now on his hands for the time being.

“Look, we’re in this together,” he giggles, showing you his stained hands as he puts a plastic bag over your hair to make the dye work better, stopping in front of you and gazing into your eyes with his, slightly hazy ones due to the wine you both drank.

You snort at his comment, but continue to stare into his eyes. You notice how they sparkle, even though it may be due to the alcohol, but it still makes your heart flutter with the image of them that just seem so love-struck at the moment. Something inside of you wished he would look at you like that all the time. Like you held the world in your hands. Like you were the most important thing in his universe.

He breaks away the gaze just to poke your cheeks and get out a little laugh, turning away and taking a seat on the hard floor, against the bathtub, with his phone in his hands.

“I’m gonna set the timer so we don’t forget about that,” he informs you, seeing you nod.

“I doubt we’d forget though, I mean, I have a ridiculous amount of box dye on my head and it burns a little, so…”

“We had two glasses of wine, Y/N, everything’s possible at this point.” he snorts, finally looking back at you after setting his phone on the floor next to him, shooting you the look of admiration you experienced a minute ago once again, making you shy away from his eyes.

A comfortable silence overtakes the room, making you wonder how you even ended up in this position. The feeling of wanting to do something exciting overtook all your senses. It wasn’t like you to do such spontaneous things. Perhaps something inside of you just wanted to see how change feels for the first time. Perhaps your mind wanted to get used to the feeling of something new first, before having to experience the biggest change on monday.

This change felt good. Kind of exciting. But you’re not quite sure how leaving and changing the place you call home will feel next week. You bet it wouldn’t feel the same.

“Thank you, Jeongin,” you mumble after a while, locking eyes with the black-haired boy sitting on the floor.

“For what? For ruining your hair?” he giggles, his dimples on full display.

“No,” you roll your eyes, suddenly feeling sentimental, “for being my friend, you know? I know I’ve been a little annoying these past days, but I am just scared to leave, that’s all.”

You see him nod at you, smiling to himself. “I know. It’s okay,” he says, “but you don’t have to be scared. You’ll do great. I mean, you were the top student of our class. And you’re like, really smart, you know. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

You hum in response, nodding at his comment. He was right. But that wasn’t exactly the reasoning behind your silent worries. It wasn’t about your grades dropping or about you not being good enough. Truth be told, you never even thought about that. There was a deeper sense to your worries, but at the same time, they felt more silly than the ones Jeongin thinks live inside that head of yours.

You’re scared to leave your town. Your family. What if you don’t find any friends in your new college? What if you’re left alone? Alone turns to lonely really quickly, and there's nothing in this world you fear more than loneliness.

For the past year, you had no one else but Jeongin. With all your friends away, it was easy to get lonely. But Jeongin was always by your side. He never even gave you a chance to feel that way. Not once did you have a noisy thought in your brain that would make you feel like you have to be scared of being alone this past year.

But without Jeongin by your side, you’re sure you’ll feel it. The loneliness. You’ll feel lonely without his constant teasing. Without his honest eyes, without his bright smile. You’ll miss your best friend so much that it hurts you already.

What if he forgets all about you? What if you’ll grow apart completely? What if the branches of your trees won’t touch anymore, what if the bond you have will break? What will you do without his calls? Without his presence in your life?

You worry about that the most. Losing him to the distance. But you’ll never say it out loud to him. Not when the end is near.

And so you just smile and nod, humming in response. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

And with that, the alarm on his phone rings, signaling for you to wash the hair dye off, praying it doesn’t look like such a disaster as you feel like it’s going to.

“Mum can you please stop yelling? My head hurts,” you grunt while you sit at the kitchen table, putting your head into your hands and wiping them at your face.

“What did you think? Dying your hair blue a few days before enrolling in college?” she screams, making you rest against the chair and roll your eyes.

After rinsing off the blue hair dye at night, you fell asleep in Jeongin’s bed without even blow drying it, effectively staining his pillowcase as well, forgetting about the wine bottle in his bathroom and about your mother all together. Jeongin’s mum woke you up in the morning with the empty bottle in her hands and a questioning look on her face, telling you to run home, because your mother is causing a scene and she’s tired of listening to her screaming on her phone. Your and Jeongin’s mums were best friends, so you know she doesn’t exactly mean it, but you ran home with a sigh nonetheless without even looking at yourself in the mirror beforehand, preparing yourself for the screaming you’re gonna hear at home.

“I just wanted to have a little fun, that’s all!” you mourn out, looking at her with half-closed eyes, seeing her pacing around the kitchen.

“So you got drunk with Jeongin after you didn’t respond to my calls for the whole evening?!” she scolds you, seeing you sigh.

“I heard you calling Mrs Yang, I know you knew I was there,” you say, tying a strand of your freshly dyed blue hair around your finger and glancing at it. It didn’t look that bad, but you haven’t seen yourself in full display yet, so you can’t really tell if your best friend did a good job yesterday.

“And you’re just gonna glaze over the fact that you got drunk?” she looks at you with wide eyes.

“Mum, I’m literally 19, what do you expect me to say?” you burst out, glaring at her with sharp eyes. You really had no idea where she was coming from with this whole discussion.

She gazes at you for a while before sighing at taking a seat next to you, relaxing her tense muscles. “You’re right. You’re totally right, I’m just over-reacting,” she says, hands clasped on the table, “it’s just… You’re growing up so quickly and I’m not- I guess I’m not ready for you to leave quite yet.” she confesses, looking at you with sad eyes.

Your whole life, you haven’t left home for more than a week. You only did so one time when you went on a field trip with your school and even then, you missed your mother a little. The truth is that after Jeongin, it felt like she was your best friend. It sounds lame, but it is true. The almost idyllic relationship you share with your mother has always made you feel safe and loved. It’s going to be hard for you to not have your mother there to wake you up in case you slept in in the morning, or when you felt sad and wanted to mourn over a cup of hot chocolate in the evening while watching a soap opera.

You never realised your mother could miss you so much. I guess you were just so self-indulgent in your own pity you never realised other people could be scared of the change as well.

“I’m not either, mum,” you snicker, taking her hands into yours, “but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“I know, I know,” she nods, gazing into your eyes, “but it’s going to be empty here without you. I won’t have my soap opera partner here anymore.”

“We can watch soap operas together when I come home over holidays, don’t worry,” you smile at her, seeing her relax a little.

“You bet I’m going to annoy you and call you every evening just to make sure you’re okay,” she laughs at your face full of misery, enjoying the teasing.

“Please don’t, the college kids will think I’m not cool if you do,” you mourn, but on the inside, you’re screaming ‘please do’, because if you’re alone on the cold nights in your new dorm room, at least you know you always have your mother to lean on.

“Oh please, with that hair? Everyone will think you’re the coolest girl around,” she grins, pointing at the blue color of your hair, making you snort out in surprise.

“Does it really look cool?” you ask her, beaming with joy.

“As your mother, I’m legally not allowed to say that, but it doesn’t look twice bad, you know,” she says, making you jump out and move to the mirror on the wall in your hall, admiring your new image and admitting that your mother was, indeed, right, and you don’t really regret your spontaneous idea that sparked inside of your head yesterday.

“I’m surprised it’s not blotchy, considering you were drunk when you did that,” smirks your mum from behind you.

“Oh, Jeongin did that,” you point out nonchalantly, “and we weren’t that drunk yet, we finished the bottle after rinsing this off.” you giggle.

“Jeongin did?” she gasps in surprise, laughing.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “the wine was his idea as well, by the way, so if you wanna be mad at someone, it’s not me.”

Your mum shakes her head in amusement, laughing a little at you. Her little girl is growing up so well, she thinks. She looks at you as if she knew something you didn’t, making you quirk up your brow at her questioningly, but she just shrugs it off.

“Go and eat some breakfast, sunshine, you must be hungry,” she just says, making you grin.

“Okay,” you nod, moving back to your spacious kitchen, turning around in the doorway once more and shooting a teasing question to your mother, “does that mean I’m not grounded or anything? Because I have a party to attend this saturday.” you laugh.

“I’ll think about it, young lady.”

“Remind me again, why are you packing your things on a friday night? We could have been doing much more fun things than that,” mourns Jeongin as he watches you rummaging through your closet, picking up the things you’re going to take with you to a whole new, different city across the whole country.

“Because I have to leave at noon on sunday,” you huff out, “and you chose to have a party on saturday. And tell me, what other exciting fun things could we be doing right now?” you glare at him from across the room.

“I don’t know, like… watching anime?” he giggles, making you roll your eyes with a small smile of amusement.

“Yeah, right. Anime won’t pack my bags, though, so if you don’t wanna help, at least stop whining for a while.” you mumble, packing your shirts, throwing them into your carrier.

Jeongin rolls his eyes at you, but moves closer to your closet nonetheless, eyeing the mass of clothing inside, silently judging you for owning so much, even though you wear the same three shirts every week. His eyes stop at your hands, seeing something suspicious in them, eyebrows shooting up in question.

“Is that my shirt?” he laughs.

“No…” you mumble, feeling red in your cheeks, stuffing the white fabric into your bag, desperately trying to hide it from his eyes so he won’t tease you about it.

“I’m pretty sure it is.” he grins, catching the blush creeping onto your face. What was making you so flustered? It’s not like you haven’t worn his clothes before. He shares his shirts with you all the time when you sleep over.

“And what if it is? Once it spends more time in my closet than in yours, it’s automatically my shirt, you know.” you explain matter-of-factly, looking him in the eyes, finding a playful spark in them that is ever so present and familiar to you every time he teases you about something.

“Right, right,” he nods, leaning on the wall of your closet, “is there any reason why you’re packing that shirt with you for college?” he asks.

“No reason, I just like that shirt,” you nod, not once meeting his eye, because you’re sure you’d be a blushing mess if you did, desperately wanting him to change the topic and leave you and his shirt alone. It was embarrassing enough for you to keep it for that long, not even talking about you packing it with yourself for college. You never even wore it in the first place. Or Jeongin hasn’t seen you in it before, that is. He must have left the shirt there at one of his sleepovers accidentally, not caring about it enough to remember he lost it.

And the truth is, you never wore it. You just kept it because it smelled like your best friend.

Your mother definitely wasn’t so thrilled when you shouted at her in panic when she almost threw it into the wash one day, but she was understanding of your little secret. Your mother knew more about you than you ever did anyway.

“Is that so?” he asks, quirking up an eyebrow, sending shivers down your spine. You usually didn’t mind his teasing this much.

“Yeah.” you nod again, voice low and shy. There was a sense of unspoken words behind the simple response, but you had no courage in giving those words a name or a particular feeling yet. All you knew was that if you ever miss your best friend as deeply as you can only imagine you will, you hope the smell of his shirt will keep you company.

And as if your best friend knew, he doesn’t tease you any further. He just stands closer to you, hugging you around your waist from behind and playfully nudging your sides.

“Okay.” he says, voice barely louder than a whisper, his arms feeling like a home you’re soon going to lose.

The stairs of your best friend’s front porch are a familiar place to you. You know every lamppost in your vision, you know every noise around. You recognise every neighbourhood dog just by the sound of its bark. The chilly air or the summer night makes you shiver, a feeling of nostalgia overtaking your senses as you hear the background noise of the eight people inside, cursing at yourself for not being there with them to spend your last evening in your hometown with your closest friends.

It feels heavy, though. Listening to their laughter, knowing it’s going to be the last time you’re going to hear it in a while. Seeing them smile when you know that tomorrow, you’ll be so far away from each other. And it hurts to say goodbye.

You don’t feel like seeing Minho grin at you across the room when you know he won’t be there to tease you about being nervous from your first day of college on monday morning. You don’t feel like listening to Changbin’s stories when you know you won’t be there with him to make some new ones. You don’t feel like listening about Jisung’s and Hyunjin’s shared music major, because you’re secretly envious of the fact that they still get to meet each other every day. You don’t feel like watching Chan’s father-like smile when you know you won’t see it for such a long time. You don’t feel like watching Seungmin bickering with everyone when you know he won’t be there to make fun of you when you forget to change from your pyjama pants and go to school in them again. You don’t feel like sitting around in a hug with Felix when you’re more than sure you’re going to miss the way he so lovingly held you once you're sitting in your empty dorm room.

But you don’t feel like sitting there and watching your best friend laughing in his living room with a can of beer in his hand the most of it all. Because it feels like time’s running out. It feels like if you don’t soon do something, anything, all of those people will forever disappear, even though you know you will always have the chance to meet them on holidays.

You don’t want to look at them when your heart hurts at every chance of that encounter.

You miss them all already.

You turn around at the sound of the front door opening, seeing Chan standing there with his usual warm smile, but it doesn’t make you feel safe this time around. It makes you feel longing, it makes you feel like you’re far, far away already.

“Why are you just sitting here, Sonic?” he laughs, nudging your side with his elbow as he sits next to you on the stairs of the front porch, making you break out into a small smile at his teasing nickname comparing you to the blue cartoon character.

“I don’t feel like partying,” you shrug, not meeting his eyes just in case they tell on you. You watch the stars instead, noticing the way they have never shined brighter, as if they wanted to show you how beautiful they can be the last night you spend in your hometown.

“Don’t be scared,” mumbles Chan, putting his hand on your thigh, comforting you, “you know we’re all just one call away, right? We may not see each other that often anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re losing us, you know that,” he says, speaking the words you needed to hear for a really long time now, making you look at him with a sad smile on your lips.

“Yeah, I know,” you nod, seeing that father-like smile appear on his lips again. Chan has always been like your older brother to you. He knew you like the back of his hand. You almost forgot how see-through you always were for the boy when he left for college three years ago.

“But this isn’t about us anymore, is it?” he grins playfully, but still considerably enough to not hurt your already fragile feelings.

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. He really did know you better than you knew yourself, huh? There was something about Chan that always made him seem like a trained therapist. Maybe it was because he was the oldest of your friend group, always taking care of the eight of you whenever something bad happened. He looked after you all. His heart has always been full of gold.

“No,” you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek, lost in thought.

“You’re not losing him. Ever,” he says firmly, “I promise.”

“Chan, I-”

“For the past year, it was just the two of you. The two of you against the whole world. Do you really think he would throw away something like that just because he won’t have the chance to see you every day?” says Chan, gazing at you with caring eyes.

“No,” you shake your head, “but the distance… I will miss him so much.” you say, feeling actually kind of relieved after the confession you kept all inside without being able to say it out loud for so long. Because once you say it, it’s there. It’s the truth.

But that’s how it is, it is the truth. You will miss your best friend so, so much.

“But he’ll always be there, the distance doesn’t change anything,” Chan says, voice warm.

“What if-” you start, laughing at yourself in self-pity, “what if he finds someone better there? What if he won’t feel like he needs me anymore? It will be so lonely without him, Chan.”

Chan gazes at you for a while, as if he was studying the way your eyes held all the sadness they possibly could at the very moment, before he speaks up again. “Tell him.”

“Tell him what?” you ask, furrowing your brows at Chan.

“You know what I mean,” he says, laughing light-heartedly.

And you know what? He’s right. You know what he means. And maybe you always knew, but you just never said it out loud. Because once you say it, it’s there, and it’s the truth. And hiding from that truth was all you did these past months, even though it’s always been there.

You shake your head again, as if to let him know how well he knows you, staring off to the distance. You feel like you know every car that passes by, every bird that chirps from the tree branches in Jeongin’s back yard. This place feels like a home to you. And you’re not ready to leave home yet. You’re not ready to leave Jeongin.

“Don’t be scared okay?” asks Chan, standing up, but you know that this time, he means it in a whole different sense. Something about his words makes you calm down, nodding at him.

“Are you leaving already?” you ask, seeing him nod.

“Gotta leave early tomorrow,” he says, mimicking your sad smile, “call me when you arrive in your dorms, alright? I wanna hear all about it.” he says, making you smile.

“I will.” you say, seeing him take long steps backwards until he’s at the end of Jeongin’s driveway, waving his hand at you with a bright grin on his face.

“Bye! I’ll visit you some time!” he calls, ignoring the silent hours, knowing damn well Jeongin’s neighbours don’t care about those ever since the last time you went out and screamed out all your bottled-up frustration from your failed maths test last year with Jeongin.

“It’s a three hour long drive, Chan!” you shake your head.

“And?”

“And you don’t even have a car!” you laugh, seeing him burst out into a fit of giggles.

“I’ll find a way, believe me!” he says, and with that, he leaves. The empty space next to you on the front porch makes you feel sad now, contemplating going inside the house and at least trying to talk to your friends one last time, when you hear the door open again, revealing Jeongin standing there with a frown on his face.

He doesn’t ask you anything, nor does he say anything as he takes a seat next to you, much like Chan did just a few minutes ago. His eyes don’t even meet yours. All you feel is pure melancholy, pure longing for the boy next to you, pure love beating out of your chest as he leans his head onto your shoulder and places a hand on your knee.

You swear you could do it any time. Say it. Just three words - that’s all. Easy. But you know that maybe if you did, saying goodbye would be much harder for you in the morning. It wouldn’t feel right, leaving him with the knowledge you spilled your deepest secret to him.

And so you do the next closest thing, you say the next closest words to the three most important ones just sitting at the tip of your tongue: “I’ll miss you.”

The words feel so vulnerable. So intimate. Like you’re spilling out your heart to him.

“I will miss you too,” he says back, voice muffled and sad. He said it. It just made it real.

You look at him, his head coming off your shoulder, seeing the sparkle in his eyes mirror the stars in the night sky, reminding you of the beauty of your hometown, because to be honest, no place feels closer to home than when you're in his arms. Your breath hitches in your throat, your body shivering under his gaze. He wears the same love-struck drunken gaze in his eyes, but this time, you’re sure he’s not drunk enough for you to confuse his feelings for alcohol.

Your eyes flicker to his lips, hesitantly looking into his eyes for any sign of rejection, but finding none as he leans in a little, nudging his nose with yours.

This surely isn’t your smartest idea. But it sure does feel like one.

You can almost feel his lips on yours, the ghost of them glazing over yours with his warm breath, when the front door opens for the third time this evening, making both of you jolt away from each other as Jisung’s loud voice cuts through the silence.

“Here you are! I was looking for you two!”

You look at Jeongin with wide, rounded eyes, seeing him gazing to the ground. The expression breaks something inside of you, making you brokenly smile at the boy in the doorway currently looking the two of you up and down, forcing out a laugh.

“Yeah. Here we are.” you say, passing past him, entering the living room to hopefully drown your feelings out in the noise of the seven people left in the place, desperately needing to forget about everything - your college, your mum, your friends, Jeongin - everything.

The kiss didn’t feel like your best idea anymore.

You load the trunk of your mother’s old white mini cooper with the luggage you packed with Jeongin on friday, a frown sitting on top of your lips as you take a look around your house for the last time in months. It will be weird to not see your small house every day. You never knew you could miss that place.

Sunlight hits your eyes as you watch your mother step out of the house, looking at you with a sense of pride, opening her arms wide so you can hug her goodbye. You lounge yourself into her body, breathing in her fruity perfume, feeling like you have to breathe in enough so you can remember the smell even when you’re far away. It’s another smell that reminds you of home. You never realised it until it felt like it was too late.

“Be careful on the roads, yeah? I didn’t leave you my car for you to break it somewhere on your first day of driving it, alright?” she says with a playful, scolding tone of her voice, although you know damn well she doesn’t mean it harshly. She just doesn’t want to say it with a sincere tone of voice, knowing her sensitive daughter might just cry if she does so.

“Right, right,” you nod, breaking away from the motherly hug, seeing her eyes move somewhere behind you, a knowing look settled on her features.

You turn around, seeing Jeongin standing at the end of your doorway, out of breath, a worried look plastered on his face as he watches you take long, slow steps to his figure.

“Hi-”

“I thought you left without saying goodbye!” he screams out at you, making you painfully look to the ground. His words hurt you. Because you know how worried he must have been when he thought you didn’t even care enough about him to hug him one last time.

The truth is, you wanted to do it. Leave without a word. You woke up in the morning on the sofa in his living room, visiting his room to find him in his bed soundly asleep, the warm light flowing through the blinds making him look ethereal. The reality hit you at the sight. It felt too hard to say it. To finally leave.

“I’m sorry, Innie-” you start, only to be cut off by your best friend again.

“Why are you pushing me away? Now, out of everything? When we have so little time left together?” he almost mourns, hands shooting up in the air.

You look around helplessly, seeing your mother disappeared into the house to give you two some privacy, already knowing what is the topic behind your conversation without you even needing to enlighten her in the first place. It’s so visible in both of your eyes. Nobody had to be told to know about the feelings you share for the other.

“I’m not…”

“Yes you are. What are you so afraid of, Y/N? I’m not disappearing just because I’ll be away,” he helplessly shakes his head, frustration written all over his face.

A lump forms in your throat, making you forcefully swallow it down, looking into his eyes. “What will I do without you? This doesn’t make it any easier for us, Jeongin, and I don’t want to be in pain for all this time without you.”

“Just because you refuse to say it out loud doesn’t mean it isn’t there, you know,” he says, gazing into your eyes, reading your mind perfectly.

You stare into his face again, admiring his features as if it was your last time to see them. His beautiful eyes that always looked at you with admiration. His pretty lips that looked so inviting ever since the moment you two shared at his front porch yesterday. The hair falling into his face, obviously not brushed at all today, since he ran all the way here after not finding you by his side in the morning like he thought he would.

You stare into his face again and your heart beats with admiration, because Jeongin’s right. Just because you refuse to say it out loud, doesn’t mean you don’t love him. And the fact that you confess won’t make it any harder for you. You would still miss him the same.

“I-” you choke on your words, seeing him shake his head.

“If you won’t say it, I will,” he speaks up, leaning in closer to you, his hand finding its way onto your cheek, his starry eyes gazing into yours as his breath glazes over your lips again, “I’m in love with you.”

You almost feel your eyes well up with tears just in time when his lips meet yours, shutting them close, immersed in the feeling of the kiss. It feels like your lips were made for him to kiss. Like the two of you were the trees in his backyard, so close to each other, always meant to have your branches and your roots intertwined.

You feel like you never want to pull away, but after a while, you’re forced to.

“Jeongin, I-” you take a deep breath, feeling the time ticking as you know you have to leave soon or you’ll come late, “I’m in love with you too.”

He nods, a wide grin settled onto his features, acting as if he knew all along and he just wanted to hear the words leave your mouth.

And there they were.

You said it, so it made it true.

You were in love with him.

But the truth is, you always have been. You just refused to admit it to yourself.

And so with the last kiss before you hopped into your mum’s old mini cooper, you try to remember how it feels, you try to remember how Jeongin’s lips taste against yours.

They taste sweet. Soft. Just like him. You try to remember how your heart flutters with every butterfly touch of his hand, you try to engrave his glittery eyes into your memory.

Because this is what you’ll think of when you feel the most alone in your first days of college. You’ll think of Yang Jeongin and the feelings he made you feel. You’ll think of home.

Because your heart has always felt at home when he securely held it in his hands.

“Call me when you get there,” he mumbles against your lips.

“I will,” you nod, not ready to let him go just yet.

“And don’t fall for any lanky literature major while you’re there, okay?” he giggles, nudging your nose with his, making you laugh.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.” he nods.

“Good.” you repeat, gazing into his eyes.

“I’ll visit you when I can.”

And you know he’ll keep his promise. The ride will be long, but Jeongin will do everything just to feel at home. Because the only thing you two need to feel at ease is each other. And he’s not planning on disappearing just yet.

Not now, when he finally has you.

Not ever.

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magicman111 · 3 years

Text

A Moth to a Flame - Chapter Two

One month later

Sasha joylessly toyed with the Music Box, opening its lid like a yawning mouth.

Who’d have thunk it? She wondered to herself. This tacky little thing could cause so much calamity?

How ludicrously out of place she looked curled up on King Andrias’ enormous throne, almost like the little girl playing pretend in the driver’s seat of her parents’ car. You’d be forgiven for not knowing she’d just led the swiftest, easiest toppling of a government in this world’s history.

Big blue dummy locked up? Check. The city’s army surrendered? Check. Their toad army less than an hour away? Check. Dimension-skipping Macguffin firmly in their position? Double Check.

Not a bad day’s work for a 13-year-old.

Marcy’s oversized sparrow was tethered to the armrest by his leg. A prize she’d taken for herself so she could cruise around her new kingdom in style. She saw to it he wasn’t under any duress, and the fact he was neck deep in an industrial sized bag of bird feed told her he was plenty comfortable.

Sasha managed a tiny smile as she reached out to run her fingers through the thickness of his coat. She dunked her hand in the bag and offered him an open palm of seeds; he eyed for a moment or two before gingerly pecking at the mound.

Thank Frog no one was around to hear the ‘d’aww’ escape her lips.

Her grandmother was the one she had to thank for her secret admiration of birds. Old lady had been a birdwatcher who ‘treated’ her to regular weekend trips into the forest when she was younger. This was long before her discovery of malls and arcades. Sasha wouldn’t dare admit it to even herself back then, but the ones they spotted together on those dewy spring mornings were beautiful to behold in their natural habitat.

Herons may now be forever ruined for her, but Joe—she thought that was his name—was a mighty impressive specimen. Poor guy somehow found the strength to carry all seven of them to Newtopia, only to nosedive into the moat at the end of the flight.

Definitely had nothing to do with her asking Marcy if she could take the reins in the last stretch. She and Anne were kind enough not to draw attention to it, same as they did the day at summer camp when they discovered her crying into her pillow. They were awesome enough to go along with her story that it was only allergies. She knew she had a true pair of girlfriends that morning.

Thinking about them only soured her mood afresh. She sprinkled the rest of the feed back into the bag and slumped against the backrest, arms petulantly crossed.

Here she was in the crowning moment of her young life and she couldn’t have been more miserable.

Maybe because her friends should have been here to share in this, but no, they had to go and act all noble. What else should she have expected? She always was the only one in the group with the guts. Anne had to be dragged kicking and screaming to ditch school and join her and Marcy in celebrating her birthday. Was it any wonder she had to keep taking control of the situation?

More likely... it was because deep down she knew she didn’t really want this. She certainly believed she did after they dropped that gloryhound newt general down a waterfall and when they successfully rallied the Toad Lords after retrieving Barrel’s Warhammer. Things only started getting complicated when they needed free tickets into Newtopia in the form of her friends.

She hadn’t counted on realising just how much she missed her clumsy, klutzy Marcy. Neither how effectively she and Anne were still able to work together as a team in spite of all the unpleasantness that had transpired between them during their time here, of which there was plenty. The fact that Anne actively encouraged her in taking down that molten toad monster was the rancid cherry atop the sludge sundae. For a while back there, it looked like they might really turn a corner and start afresh. All three of them could have gone home like none of this ever happened. Except by then it was already too late.

What recourse did she have when the Plantars invited them for the world’s most awkward dinner party or when they brought the house down at the Battle of the Bands? Tell Grime and all the toads who’d invested their manpower and futures in her that sorry, she was getting cold feet? There was only one grizzly way that would end both for her and Grime and the best scenario she could imagine involved heads on pikes.

... It didn’t matter anymore. Her friends had picked their path, she’d picked hers. As her mom always said, ‘You make your bed, you lie in it’. Funny how in her short life, she’d heard that line far too many times already.

Once she figured out how the Box worked, she’d send both Anne and Marcy on their merry way and they’d never have to see each other ever again.

Everyone would get what they want.

Good thing then she’d sent her soldiers to ransack Marcy’s room for all her research about Anne’s fateful birthday gift. Girl was a pack rat. She kept notes for every exam and project they were assigned back home. The less said about her laptop jammed with files of anime fanfiction and theories the better.

Plus, it was a good way to try and distract herself.

They came back into the throne room hauling burlap sacks full of parchments and emptied their contents at Sasha’s feet.

Daaang, girl, you've been in the zone.

She scattered them over her lap and the ample free space on the seat. They actually weren’t that hard to follow; colour coordinated with plenty of cutesy kawaii diagrams. Trademark Marbles.

Apparently, it worked a lot like those puzzle boxes Marcy got as gifts from relatives in Hong Kong. All it took was knowing the right sequence of buttons and zip! You can go wherever you want in the cosmos. Just a matter of finding the code for Earth.

‘I’m done listening to you!

I’m done trusting you!’

Sasha scowled, trying to push the thoughts to the back of her mind where they belonged. She shuffled through a couple more pages until she found the one titled in glittery green and blue lettering, ‘HOME’.

Bingo.

‘You’re a horrible person!’

Ignore. Ignore.

Now all she had to do was jot it down on her palm and—

‘AND I AM DONE. BEING. FRIENDS WITH YOU!!’

She stopped. Her shoulders drooped. Then she just threw the page down on the floor and sunk into her seat further than she thought physically possible.

She normally didn’t consider herself that thin skinned a person, but man, that one hurt.

Traces of bitter tears creeped into her eyes.

What am I even doing anymore?

The sound of footsteps on crumpling paper and someone clearing their throat snapped her out of her self-pitying torpor. She fluttered her eyes dry to see Grime standing there awkwardly among the discarded parchments.

The diminutive, one-eyed former Toad Lord was hiding something behind his back. He actually looked pretty embarrassed about it too, which for a battle hardened war vet like Grime was actually kinda adorable in Sasha’s eyes.

“I, uhh, got you something,” he said, whipping out a long rectangular present wrapped in green paper and topped with a luscious red bow. “Had it made especially for this day.”

Now if there was one thing Sasha Waybright couldn’t say no to, it was a gift, especially from a trusted friend. They were the ultimate distraction from the blues and she couldn’t have been sitting upright and tearing into this one any quicker.

“Whaaat? Grimesy, you didn’t!” What she had pulled from the ravaged packaging wielded aloft her head made her gasp. “How’d you know I wanted to duel wield?!”

It was a brand new heron sword. An exquisite green second shortsword that would compliment Ol’ Pink perfectly.

She stared proudly into the smooth steel surface, admiring the craftsmanship. When she noticed the girl staring right back at her, however, her smirk vanished in an instant. The captain of the cheerleaders, the scarred swordswoman, the conqueror of Newtopia, whatever angle she looked at it, she didn’t like what she saw. Unbelievable as it may sound, even the joy of an awesome gift like this was not enough to make everything better.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like it? Oh dang it!” Grime slammed his forehead. “I didn’t get a gift receipt!”

“No no, it’s just...” Sasha weighed the blade against her ungloved palm. Talking about these kinds of things was never easy for her. “What if Anne’s right? What if I am a horrible person?”

Grime popped up like a whack-a-mole behind the armrest. “Who cares what she thinks?” he scoffed. “You and I are in charge now, and we get to do whatever we want!”

“That’s the thing... I’m not sure what I want anymore,” she admitted wearily.

For all his years of training at the finest academies, his brutal combat in the colosseum and tactical expertise earned through a lifetime of military service as his forebears before him, this one had Grime stumped. Needless to say, talking about one’s emotions wasn't exactly encouraged during their upbringing in toad culture, so naturally it wasn’t one of his strong suits. Just one of the many things he and Sasha had in common.

“Huh.”

Still, he was a pretty fast thinker and came up with a fairly good idea on the spot.

“Why don’t you help me redecorate this place?” he suggested, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Take your mind off it. Cuz this right here...” He gestured to the cluttered mess in which she’d surrounded herself. “This is definitely not—I’m sorry, can I help you?!”

Both of them turned their heads when it became impossible to ignore Joe’s cone-shaped beak lightly nipping at Grime’s cheek.

“He probably thinks your warts are seeds.”

“For the love of—I knew he was eyeing me up on the ride here! There! Get lost!” Grime scooped up a fistful of feed and flung it over the marble floor, but the winged beast persisted with pecking his face. “Stop it! MY HEAD IS NOT A FEEDER!!”

It took an exceptional effort of willpower for Sasha not to laugh at the sight of her old man being preyed upon by the family pet.

Wow, she thought. Her old man? Was that how she saw Grimesy now? Seriously?

Perhaps up to a point. Okay, considering the options she had for parental figures back home, it wasn’t exactly the highest bar to pass, but it still meant something. Anything.

Who would have guessed this would be how they’d end up, especially given how they started off with her as his prisoner? Sure, it may have taken her helping him and the whole tower not getting turned into heron feed for her to be upgraded to his lieutenant, but they really had come a long way since then. There was a lot more honor and heart to the cranky old toad than she first thought, back when she wrote him off just as another blowhard with power. Now he genuinely considered her his equal both as a friend and comrade in arms. For Sasha, the feeling was mutual. A first for her.

When all was said and done, who else did she have left besides him and vice versa?

What the heck? Let’s tear this place up.

Untethering Joe, she whistled a tweet-tweet and gave the rope a gentle tug to encourage him to follow on their ‘indoor walkies’.

A cursory surveillance of the throne room told her there was a lot of work to be done. If this toad regime was to last a thousand years, the correct decor was an important first step. Thankfully for them, she knew a thing or two about fashion. For starters, there were way too many soft blues and purples. Rust red from top to bottom! She preferred keeping the stained glass windows, but they’d need entirely new designs. Hers truly would naturally feature in most of them, one showcasing her and Grime caving that narwhal worm’s head in with the Warhammer being an absolute must. The snakes coiling the stone pillars weren’t a bad touch, if just a bit too elegant for the whole ‘proud warrior race’ vibe they were going for, but she could still work with them. Now as for the throne, they were gonna have to replace it with something much more imposing. There was that super violent dragon show she and her parents used to watch that had the huge throne made out of swords. She was sure she had a picture somewhere on her phone to use as a reference.

“I’m sorry, what the heck is this?!”

Sasha could only denounce what they were gawking at as the single biggest affrontement to tasteful decorating known to man or amphibian. Yes, worse than inflatable furniture, carpeted bathrooms, beaded curtains, glass block bathroom windows, ‘live, laugh, love’ quotes on walls, rustic hearts, mason jars and nautical accessories all combined under the same inland roof.

Tapestries had their rightful place in a palace’s interior design, but the one sweeping across a section of wall depicting a gentle hearted Andrias sitting down by a lake, surrounded by flowers and lilypads was nothing short of vomit-inducing. Gathered at his feet and scooped up in his protective arms were his wide-eyed, childlike subjects. Even the fish and a lobster were surfacing to bask in their king’s magnanimity. Here the oversized salamander was truly the loving patriarch of everything the light touched. The mawkish display could only be topped off with a rainbow streaking across the sky.

Grime felt his stomach roile. If he ever needed an example to demonstrate the difference between kitschy and downright tacky, this was it.

“Y-y-y-yikes!” he gagged. “This thing’s gotta go!”

Sasha didn’t need a second invite. Besides, what else was Joe going to use to line his nest?

A joint effort tore the offensive piece from its place and it tumbled to the floor in a heap.

Dead silence fell over the room.

Hidden beneath the tapestry was... a mural. Including such a decoration in a throne room was hardly surprising, yet it was what it contained that shocked both the human and toad, so much so that they had to take a moment to recover.

“Woah,” they gasped at once, before starting to analyse what they saw.

The mural was a chaotic collection of nightmarish images painted on a night blue wall. Wild red flames spewing out hordes of beasts and the wreckage of buildings. Mountains of skulls and bones belonging to frogs, toads and newts alike. A flying... spaceship? A castle? Whatever it was meant to be, it firied a white beam up at what was unmistakably the Music Box. Pink, green and blue lightning bolts crackled out of the Box. Mesmerising orange gemstones or, more terrifyingly, eyes leaped off the wall and burned themselves into their minds. The frightening focal point of this one-way ticket to the school therapist’s office? Rising out of the middle of the inferno was the silhouette of a red-eyed, goliath-sized beast, its claws reaching up covetously towards the Box that hung right above its crowned head.

It may as well have been lifted straight from the tattered dream journal of a madfrog.

Any ideas of redecorating the throne room were long gone. Even the revolution they were spearheading suddenly seemed millions of miles away in the face of what they’d just stumbled upon.

Peering her eyes slightly, Sasha was the first to put a face to the shadowy leviathan, and when she did, she had to swallow her heart back down into her chest.

“Is that the king?” she asked, mystified. “With the music box?”

Sweat ran down the side of Grime’s nonplussed face. “If it is… it’s a really good thing we stopped him.”

Neither of them said it aloud, but both understood the situation at once. All this time they thought they’d been playing flipwart while the king played bog jump. Oh, how wrong they’d been. It was beyond anything that even the Toad Lords discussed. They knew that they had to reconvene with them as soon as the armies had reached the gate.

She took a couple steps closer to reexamine the mural more thoroughly, missed details emerging now that the initial shock began to wear off. Circuit board markings—the same inside her dad’s outdated computer when she foolishly dared Marcy if she could take it apart—worked their way around the images, serving as some type of frame. Odd choice for a world that didn’t even have steam engines yet. She also picked up the three small geometric figures standing atop the Box’s lid. An artist she was not, but they looked pretty human-like in design.

But humans did not exist in Amphibia. The three of them were the first of their kind to ever set foot in this dimension.

Weren’t they?

Alarm bells were ringing louder than ever before. This Andrias guy had been playing Anne and Marcy for his own ends this whole time, all to get his mitts on the Music Box! What did he plan to do with it? Right now, she still couldn’t say, but it was all bad. Outside of a kickin’ rock band, fire and skulls together were never a good thing!

Even Joe’s feathers were puffing up anxiously against her back. Not turning away from the mural, she raised her hand and patted his risen crest.

“I know, big guy. I don’t like it either.”

Grime’s voice rang urgently in her ears, “Lieutenant! Get over here, quick!!”

Sasha had spun on her heels and sprinted down the room to find Grime standing the wreckage of what used to be a display of armour. He’d evidently acted on a hunch while she’d been preoccupied. Judging by his thunderstruck expression, he’d just discovered something far worse.

“What is iooooh boy!”

This new second mural reminded Sasha a lot of Egyptian hieroglyphs. If there was any room for doubt about the technicolor stick guys, there was none here. Standing tall against an indigo backdrop in a neat row were the outlines of human beings; long gangly appendages, stumpy noses and everything. Some were wearing hooded capes, others were decked out in suits of armour. The couple in the middle looked particularly regal. No prizes for guessing the little wooden box they were holding in their hands, cementing their authority as if it were the globus cruciger.

Faded inscriptions were engraved along the bottom. They were written in a more archaic amphibian dialect, but being a toad of higher education, Grime was able to give translating them a decent shot.

These great beings of magic and might

Travelled from beyond to serve the night

Bow before these children of man

Or know the wrath of the—

“... Wu Clan?” He cocked his one good eye up at her. “Iiiii’m not getting it.”

There it was. Floodlights flashed in Sasha’s head. All colour drained from her face. A million and one thoughts were now firing across her brain at once, threatening to send her into cerebral shutdown.

It was at that moment she knew she’d been played. They all had. She didn’t know whether to be absolutely furious, betrayed or impressed.

Why that conniving, devious little—

That's when they heard the BOOM outside the window.

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