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fangirl-writes · 3 years

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Ghost of You

Calum Hood x Reader

Warning(s): death, mourning, Calum crying on stage. Angst.

Notes: I saw a video on tiktok of Cal singing his heart out to this song so here we are. Not revised, written in one session.

Summary: Based on the song Ghost Of You.

The boys were hesitant to keep the tour dates after what happened. Everyone needs time and they thought that the space between the accident and the first show wasn’t long enough.

But Calum disagreed. He assured his bandmates that he would have no trouble by the time the show came around.

They were skeptical, argued with him to the contrary, but Calum just looked at them with tears in his brown eyes and said, “Please. Please let me do this. She would have wanted me to do what I love.”

They didn’t argue after that.

Calum woke up the morning before they hit the road facing the side of the bed that would never be filled again.

He can’t sleep there. He hasn’t even made an effort to make the bed, holding on to the last outlines of where you had once been.

The sheets were ruffled and the comforter was pushed near the end of the bed, your pillow was propped up against the headboard where you had been sitting, drinking out of your coffee cup.

The coffee cup that still sat on the bedside table just next to your side of the bed.

A small tear fell from Calum’s eye as he noticed the ever fading lipstick stain on the rim. A subtle, but pretty pink that you always wore. The one that would sometimes stain his cheek before he went out on stage.

He wiped the tear and tried to smile.

Oh, what you’d say if you could speak to him now. “Wipe those tears away, Cal. You’ll be just fine.”

I’ll be just fine. Calum thought. Eventually, I’ll be just fine.

He got up from the bed, not bothering to prepare himself for the day yet.

His suitcases sat fully packed by the door; ready to be loaded onto the tour bus for the next few months.

He always had more suitcases than you did, for obvious reasons. But he swore you could fit everything you owned in that one little suitcase. A suitcase that wouldn’t be used again, and probably wouldn’t leave the closet.

Calum sighed, pushing away the thoughts and walking out of the bedroom. Trying to drown the thoughts of you out, like he always did, trying to think of anything else.

But he found walking down that hallway to make it especially hard.

In that hallway, in those photos, he swears he can see the ghost of you.

The first one hanging there is a picture of you and him that he used to find almost hilarious to behold. It was an older one, back when they were just getting big and he was still a teenager, it was one of you and him, taken when you were just a fan. Someone Calum didn’t think he’d probably ever see again.

But life works in mysterious ways.

The one across from that was the most recent, it was a selfie you took at Michael and Crystal’s wedding. Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth and you’d made you eyes cross, Calum was making a duck face, doing the same to his eyes.

It never failed to make him laugh.

Next was your first paparazzi appearance. You joked it was your claim to fame, being followed and snapped in a professional photo with Cal. It wasn’t anything special, really. Just a picture of the two of you walking down a street in L.A, holding hands and decked out in what was probably your laziest outfits ever. Calum had on a dark pair of sunglasses and you were smiling up at him, probably about to crack a joke to get that stoic look off his face.

The rest were either family photos, photos of him and the boys, you and your friends, or just silly pictures of the two of you together.

He tried to walk as fast through that hall as he could, trying to keep the tears from reaching his eyes.

But he couldn’t take them down. It might kill him.

He made it to the kitchen with little resistance and poured himself his own cup of coffee, trying to focus on the upcoming tour and not think about you.

He had deleted social media off his phone. He couldn’t take the constant notifications and reminders and apologies from fans. They missed you too, but Calum missed you an ungodly amount more.

He frowned when he saw the empty vodka bottle sitting on his kitchen counter. God his place was a mess. He needed to at least clean up before he left, maybe that’d get his mind off things.

Put on some music. Yeah, that’d be okay.

He finished his cup of coffee, washing the mug before hurrying off to get the other tasks finished before he had to leave.

He took out the trash, cleaned out the fridge, put away his dishes, swept the floors, vacuumed the floors, cleaned the windows, dusted the shelves.

All that was left was laundry.

He made it to the laundry room easily. But once he was in there, nothing was harder.

He filled a load with his dirty clothes, turning on the machine before tentatively reaching for the basket that held yours.

He blinked back tears when he noticed the old Zeppelin shirt sitting in there. The one that your wore when you ran away, and no one could feel your hurt.

“He’s a rockstar,” your family had said. “it won’t last.”

“I’m in love with him,” you had replied.

Too young, too dumb, to know things like love. Calum thought with a shake of his head. What did they know? But I know better, now.

Calum went through the rest of your clothes, a memory surfacing for almost each one. A old 5sos merch shirt that you’d worn on your first date, not even thinking about it. A pair of music note socks that he had a matching pair of. A pair of skinny jeans you had a love-hate relationship with. A white bra that you had thrown on stage at one of their concerts as a joke, only for it to end up catching on the neck of Calum’s bass.

He smiled at the memory. His entire face had gone bright red and he had looked down at you with an almost scandalized look. The other boys had to stop the song because they were laughing too hard.

He let your clothes lay back in the hamper after he was done. He didn’t see a reason to wash them yet.

But he tucked that old Zeppelin shirt into his travel bag.

He loaded his bags into the back of Michael’s car, ready to head to the bus. Crystal waved at him from the passenger seat, he waved back.

“You got your keys?”

Calum blinked, not even realizing he was going to need those now. “I didn’t even lock the door,”

Michael laughed, pushing his friend lightly towards his house again. “Go get them.”

Calum chuckled back, hurrying to do so.

It hadn’t even dawned on him that you wouldn’t be there to watch the house, that he needed to lock the door. He had already sent Duke to stay at Luke and Sierra’s but locking his door? He’d never even thought of it.

He grabbed his keys before pausing.

Yours were hanging there, too. A keychain with your initials on it dangling next to the keys.

He grabbed those instead.

“You ready for this, mate?” Ashton asked him as he slid into the back seat.

“Yeah,” Calum said, softly, caressing the keychain with his thumb. “Yeah, I am.”

And as Michael took off, looking back at his house, Calum could’ve sworn he saw the ghost of you.

***

The night was going great so far, the crowd was pumped up, screaming and hollering.

Cal had managed to get lost in the music, forgetting about his problems for hours.

Until the song he had been dreading all night.

He almost asked if they could take it off the setlist after he saw it.

But then they’d have given the sad, almost pitying look that they did when they talked about canceling the tour. And he didn’t think he could stand those looks again.

He took a deep breath as the piano notes began. He could do this.

“Let’s see those lights up in your hands,” Luke said, holding his arm up.

Calum reached his microphone and his breath caught in his throat.

Someone was holding a picture of you up. Almost as if they knew.

His eyes darted to a different part of the crowd only to find an even larger poster being held up and illuminated by the stage lights. It read your name, your birthday, and the day you-

Calum looked away again, trying to blink back tears.

“Wow look at all those-” Luke voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Wow, you guys, this is...”

There were maybe hundreds of posters or photos being held up now along with the phone lights.

“You know, this is my first concert without her in a long time,” Calum found himself saying into the mic. “And this way she’s still here. Thank you guys. Thank you so much.”

The fans cried out in response and Calum cleared his throat, saying to his bandmates away from the mic. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Singing the song, Cal hadn’t realized how much it fit his situation until just then. He hoped it wasn’t some screwed up sort of fate that they would write this song and then he would lose you.

“So I drown it out like I always do,” Luke sang. “Dancing through our house...”

“With the ghost of you,” Calum chimed in, mind filled with thoughts of you. He didn’t drown them out this time, he just let them come.

“And I chase it down, with a shot of truth. Dancing through our house, with the ghost of you,”

“Too young... too dumb... to know things like love,” He could feel the tears falling down his cheeks. “Too young... too dumb...”

“You go!” Luke shouted, allowing the crowd to sing the chorus.

“So I drown it out like I always do,” They sang and Calum hung his head back, trying to hide his tears as he listened. “Dancing through our house. with the ghost of you.”

You would have loved this. You would have said that it gave you chills, hearing the crowd sing such a haunting song back to them.

“And I chase it down with a shot of truth. That my feet don't dance...”

“Like they did with you.” Luke sang the last line with the crowd before the stage went black and Calum rushed off to the side of the stage.

The boys followed quickly, wrapping him in a hug after they reached him, and for the first time since you’d been gone, Calum let himself just cry. He didn’t push it down or wipe his tears, he just cried. He let his best friends hold him and he cried.

But just there, like everywhere, wrapped in the arms of his friends, Calum could have sworn he felt the ghost of you.

#calum hood x reader #calum hood x y/n #calum hood x you #calum hood imagine

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jimlingss · 4 years

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Sugar and Coffee [18]

Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 18.5 OR Chapter 19

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

It’s funny how things come and go in life. The longer you live and the more things you experience, you realize just how fickle living can be. The events that you anticipate the most come and go while the ones you dread linger. The people you expect to stay with you leave — and the people you expect to leave end up staying. Similarly, the internship that you had been so worried and excited for was finally finished. It was sad to say goodbye and to leave the shop behind. You genuinely loved being there, learning and spending your time perfecting your craft. Even bratty Yuna was sad to bid you farewell — the two of you had grown fond of each other over the months, so you sent her a card right when you got home yourself and you heard from Namjoon that she had pinned it on her wall. Luckily, you knew that this goodbye wouldn’t be a permanent one. It was different to other goodbyes you’ve had in the past. Namjoon and Sejeong assured both you and Jungkook a million times that it was only temporary — that they’d be happy to hire you back after your schooling is finished if you so happened to choose to work for them again. And it’s a proposition that still interests you greatly. You’re not sure what Jungkook wants to do — but you know you’d love to return and continue making wedding cakes under their mentorship someday. But for now you had to return on your path. The end of Summer was quickly approaching, and you find yourself coming back to where it started. Well. Sort of. In actuality, you were standing on Jungkook’s parents’ doorstep. Suitcase in hand. Full of hesitance and uncertainty. Fingers kept away from the doorbell. You’re not sure if this is a place that would welcome you again. But Jungkook had insisted. He pressed on, insisting that you should visit his family again, to at least come see him for a few days with the Summer that remained left. He whined about how much he missed you. And you had to admit, you missed him too. So here you were, like a complete idio— “God, okay! I’m throwing out the trash now!” The door opens. The boy freezes. He stares at you with rounded eyes as you stare back at him. He’s dressed in a worn t-shirt and gym shorts, flopping hair sticking out in all directions like he just woke up even though it’s well past noon. One hand is on the handle, the other is holding a black garbage bag. Slowly the corner of your mouth quirks. “Hi.” A stupidly big grin plasters across Jungkook’s face and spreads into his cheeks as his eyes light up with mirth. Jungkook’s voice softens. “When’d you get here?” “Just now.” He drops the garbage and is about to come and hug you, but something shoots out from between his legs to engulf you in a tight embrace instead. “Y/N!” Eunbi’s summer dress flutters in the breeze and you lift her up as best as you can with a smile. Lia follows quickly behind, wearing a big smile and she turns over her shoulder. “Y/N’s here!” “She’s here?” Someone comes stumbling from the kitchen, throwing her kitchen towel aside. Jungkook’s dad comes out from the backyard, having heard the ruckus. “She’s here.” “She’s here!” Eunbi repeats in giggles and your arms widen when Lia joins in greeting you with a hug. Jungkook sighs wistfully, separated from you by his overbearing family members. Yet, all the worries you had about being welcomed or not instantly vanishes. They greet you warmly — Jungkook’s dad asking how you’ve been, how exams and classes and the internship was. You’re bombarded with curious questions and enthusiastic answers, only spared when Jungkook’s mom pulls you to the kitchen where she has a whole countertop of food prepared. She wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, so she made everything she could when she heard you were coming and you can’t find it in your heart to reject her hard efforts. So you consume as much as you can before Eunbi tugs you aside to join her tea party with Lia. You find out their parents have gone for a last-minute trip, so they’ve been staying at their aunt’s and uncle’s, obviously having a blast by the looks of it, especially now with you here. It’s only when Jungkook turns on a Disney movie and makes them sit down to watch that he’s finally able to sneak you away. “Sorry about that.” He shuts the door to his room, sighing at how difficult it was to get a hold of you in his own house. “It’s okay. I love your family.” “That makes one of us,” Jungkook mutters and sulks. “You try spending twenty four hours a day seven days a week with them and see how they can drive you nuts.” “Aww, poor baby. Your family cares about you, how horrible.” Your voice drips of sarcasm and you feign sympathy, reaching over to pat him on the back. Jungkook scoffs but takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you. He leans down enough to accommodate for the height difference and he props his chin on your shoulder. His nose digs into your hair, breathing in. You’re ticklish from his grip. “Jungkook…” “I missed you.” “It’s only been what?” You rest your head on his shoulder, giving into his warmth. “Two weeks?” “Long enough.” “School starts in another week. If I didn’t come, you still would’ve seen me.” “Yeah, but what if I died before then and couldn’t see you ever again?” he whines and it’s hard to resist the small smile tugging at your lips. But you manage to pull away from him and roll your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.” The boy grins and takes a seat on his chair by his old computer desk while you plop down onto the edge of his bed. “So….what have you been up to?” “You act like we haven’t called and texted each other every single day.” “Yeah, but I don’t know what the trip was like up here.” “Fair enough,” you hum. “I guess all that really happened is that I sat next to this really handsome man on the bus here who shared my interests and hobbies. And we had a hot, passionate summer fling and we decided to make this a long-term thing, so we’re getting married. Sorry to say, Jeon, but you’ve lost your chance.” You laugh and his eye twitches. In an instant, you’re being pinned to his mattress with Jungkook hovering above you. His knee wedges between your legs, hands pressed flat next to your head. The dark strands of his hair grazes against your forehead and you sink deeper into his pillows. But even in such a compromising position, you can’t help but muse how cute he looks feigning anger like this. “I’m trying to be nice here, but you’re always testing my patience, brat. You really think I won’t kill you one day?” “You wouldn’t.” You quirk your head to the side, hands grasping at his forearms. Your eyes glimmer with a challenge before they flicker up to the posters lining his wall. “Not with IU watching.” He grins, a small laugh coming from his nose. “Jieun would understand.” You snort and he helps you sit up. “Do your parents know…?” “No. Otherwise, you’d be on the phone with my grandma right now. They’re overbearing enough as it is.” You nod. “They don’t think it’s weird that I’m here?” “No.” Jungkook scoffs. “God, they love you. Isn’t it obvious? They think you’re a ‘good influence’ on me. Better than Taehyung and Jimin are, at least. Those two are just idiots no matter where they go, so my parents are always concerned that all of us will get into fender benders.” He uses air quotes when he says ‘good influence’ and you bat his arm. “I am a good influence on you.” “Uh-huh.” Jungkook eyes you skeptically. “They should see you when you get mad—” “I don’t get mad.” “—and when you start swearing. Or the amount of dirty, dirty things you can say…” “Jungkook,” your whine tapers off when he suddenly lays a hand on your upper thigh. Jungkook’s half-lidded eyes and heavy gaze flickers down to your lips. He starts to lean in, head angling and your breath catches in your throat in eager anticipation. Your eyes flutter shut. But you never feel the velvet texture of Jungkook’s lips against yours. Instead, there’s a loud knock that startles you both to death. Then, the door opens. And the boy, whose lap you were nearly perched on, is already back on his desk chair, whirling around. “Hey, Y/N.” Jungkook’s dad is smiling wide. “What are you guys up to?” “We’re just talking,” his son deadpans. “Is there something you need?” “Nope.” The middle-aged man who uncannily has Jungkook’s eyes leans on the doorframe with arms crossed casually. “Just thought I’d pop by, see what’s going on, let you know your mom thinks you two can bring Lia and Eunbi into town to pick up some groceries….” “Okay. We can do that later.” There’s a terrible, awkward silence as Jungkook’s dad hangs around. It makes the younger frown. “Is there something wrong?” “No.” He shakes his head, slowly starting to turn away before Jungkook dies in modification. But then he stops and looks back with a smile playing at his lips. “You guys should keep the door open though. House policy. Not mine but your mother’s. You know...she doesn’t want any funny business happening.” “Dad.” “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” His hands are lifted up in the air and he laughs it off. The older man pushes the door so it’s wide open and then waltzes away. Jungkook’s sigh is long enough to empty out his lungs and you giggle at their interaction. The walk to town is lovely. The end of Summer keeps the weather from sweltering or being uncomfortable. It’s warm with a brisk wind kissing against your cheeks. You consider just how cozy this town is, small houses and big lawns, white picket fences and scalloped shingle rooftops. The grocery store is modest too and several people greet Jungkook when he enters, asking how he’s been and if you're someone special to him. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone and it’s cute. You never considered Jungkook to be a small town boy, but it’s somehow fitting. “We need to get apples, cucumbers, scallions….” He flips over the list, trying to discern his mom’s chicken scratch as he pushes the shopping cart. “Uh…..that either says potatoes or tomatoes.” “Can we get this?!” Eunbi holds up a box bigger than her body. The doll inside is smiling. Jungkook doesn’t even glance at it. “No.” “Awww.” The four of you walk down the cereal aisle and Jungkook stops for a detour. He picks two to compare and concentrates too hard for such a menial task. “I didn’t know cereal was on our list,” you say while peeking over his shoulder. “I like cereal,” he mumbles. In spite of taking a full minute on deliberating what brand he wants, Jungkook ends up settling for both. He places them into the cart and continues pushing it down the aisle while humming. You keep a watch on Eunbi in the meanwhile to make sure she doesn’t get lost, but soon Lia comes back with something in hand. “Y/N, can we please make this together?” The seven year old has a bright, red box of chewy fudge brownie mix. Automatically, you and Jungkook’s faces twist in abhorrent disgust. “It says we just need...egg, water, and oil!” she reads off of it proudly. “No, we don’t need a box to make brownies,” you coax with a smile. “We can make it fresher. A few more steps and it’ll taste worlds better than the box.” “Really?” “Really.” “Yay!” Eunbi’s loudly cheering in the middle of the grocery store, arms in the air and hopping up and down. “We get brownies!” “What’s even in here?” Jungkook takes the box and flips it around. His eyes narrow in on the tiny letters of the ingredient list. “Sugar, enriched bleached wheat flour? What’s carrageenan? Pft, artificial flavour?” He arrogantly tosses it aside. “We don’t need that. We’re professionals.” You snort. “Uh-huh. A professional who doesn’t even know how to make a moist cake.” “At least I can temper chocolate,” he bites back without skipping a beat — without blinking or taking a breath. When Jungkook sees your shocked expression, he laughs heartily and throws an arm over your shoulder, nuzzling into you. “I’m kidding. Kidding.” You scoff, throw his arm off of you. “No, you aren’t.” “Are you fighting?” Eunbi grabs a hold of your shirt, tugging lightly. “Only because Jungkook is mean,” you tell with an exaggerated pout. It’s his turn to be offended. “You just said my cakes weren’t moist!” You ignore him. “Let’s go, children. We don’t interact with bullies.” Lia and Eunbi giggle, happy to go along with you and leave Jungkook in the dust, scrambling to roll the shopping cart behind you. Eventually, the groceries are paid for and the walk back turns out to be equally enjoyable. Once the four of you arrive back to the house, his parents are out working in the garden, so you and Jungkook put away the groceries together and pull out the necessary ingredients for brownies. “We can probably make two batches.” “I wanna do it with Y/N!” Lia immediately exclaims, jumping to your side. She leaves her younger sister frowning and on the verge of tears. “No, I wanna!” “How about me?” Jungkook stands in the middle of his own kitchen at a complete loss. It causes laughter to bubble from you. “Okay, all three of us can do it together and we can verse Jungkook. How about that?” They nod and Lia tells her cousin that he’s going down, teasing him mercilessly and you indulge them about how you’re better than Jungkook in everything at school — something he adamantly protests about. Soon, all of you get to work. You teach them how to preheat the oven, grease the pans, and watch as the half cup of butter is melted in a saucepan. Lia and Eunbi help you measure out one cup of sugar and they each crack an egg into the butter. Three quarter cups of cocoa are shifted into the mixture along with a half cup of flour, a quarter teaspoon of salt and a quarter teaspoon of baking powder. You show the two girls how to fold the ingredients gently together and you catch them a moment before they’re about to spoon the batter into their mouths. They give stretching smiles and you help them spread it into a pan instead to bake. It’s put in for half an hour, slightly underdone so it’s sweet and still gooey. “It smells wonderful in here,” Jungkook’s mom gasps as she enters, taking off her garden gloves and wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Did you make something special?” “Look auntie!” Eunbi is jumping, hands jittery, on a sugar high. “We made brownies!” “Did you now?” She peers over the counter, brows raising. “My goodness, they look amazing.” “We helped make them with Y/N,” Lia announces, mouth smeared in chocolate. “Did you thank Y/N yet for showing you how to make them?” Both girls instantly whirl around, thanking you with bashful and shy smiles. In the meanwhile, Jungkook’s mom is unable to resist and reaches over for a brownie. She groans at the taste and smacks her lips together. “Don’t eat too much or it’ll ruin your appetite,” she says — much like how Jungkook often reminds you — and ironically bites into her brownie again. The woman turns to you. “These are delicious, dear.” “They weren’t too hard to make.” “You should show me the recipe, I’d love to bake these again.” “I’ve made these before!” Jungkook complains in a higher pitched voice, eating his own brownies when no one takes them out of his pan. But no one pays mind to him. Not his mother or his twirling cousins. “Of course, I can.” You, on the other hand, do pay attention to Jungkook. You grin at him as he glares. And only later when there’s a moment of privacy will he tickle you as revenge for making his entire family love you more than him. It’s then that he finally gets the chance to kiss you too. // Dinner with the Jeon family is as you would expect it to be. Everyone inhales all the food and chit chats with one another. There’s warm banter shared across the dinner table as his parents make him talk about the trip to Tahiti, how the internship was and if he was on his best behaviour. He gives you discreet, defeated looks to show how he’s so done with them and it’s hard to stifle your giggles. Afterwards, you help him do the dishes as his cousins turn on a movie to watch and his parents finish off the brownies you made. Not long after that, everybody begins to retreat to their rooms. “Aw, do we have to go to bed?” “Yes. Don’t you want to help plant the flowers tomorrow?” Jungkook’s mom smooths out her hair. “Only big girls can help and you can only get big if you sleep and get strong.” “Okay.” Lia sulks. “But can I at least say goodnight to Y/N?” “Yes.” The older woman offers a rather maternal smile. “You can.” Lia runs to you down the hall right as you leave the bathroom with your toothbrush in hand, catching you off guard. She hugs you tight. “Goodnight, Y/N!” Eunbi is hot on her sister’s heels and you stumble back when she throws herself at you too. “Night, night, Y/N!” “Goodnight, you two.” “Can we play tomorrow?” You ruffle the five year old’s hair. “Course we can.” She beams and hops back, following her aunt. Her uncle is already inside their room, holding up books. “Who’s ready for story time?” “Me!” Lia runs off and waves to you. At the same time, Jungkook leaves his room to see their retreating forms and scoffs. “Wow, are they not going to wish me a goodnight?” You slap his arm, laughing. “Stop being so jealous all the time. I can’t help that I’m so lovable.” He scoffs and affectionately pokes your forehead with his index finger. “I can’t even argue with that.” The corner of his mouth curls and you grin. Jungkook has that look in his eyes — the one you’ve learnt to recognize. He looks like he wants to kiss you, like he’s about to do it too, but the pair of you are interrupted by someone lingering in the hallway. “Y/N, you’re sleeping in the guest bedroom, right?” His mom looks at you and you nod quickly. “Yes, I am.” “Good.” She relaxes and bobs her head. “Jungkook, you go back to your room now. There’s a long day tomorrow.” He sighs, but doesn’t argue. Jungkook turns right back around into his room and keeps the door slightly open for a second, enough to give you an incredulous look. It makes you smile and mouth ‘goodnight’ to him before he shuts the door. His mom brings you to the guest bedroom, helping you set up for the night and asking if you need extra blankets and pillows. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Yes, it is. Thank you, Mrs. Jeon.” “If you’re ever cold, feel free to grab anything from the closet.” When you nod, she gets to the door. Jungkook’s mom is about to turn off the light, but lingers. She twists around to share a smile with you. “Thank you for coming, Y/N. I’m glad to see you again.” “No, thank you.” You’re caught off guard by her words of gratitude. “Honestly, I didn’t want to be such a bother.” “You aren’t. Trust me.” She laughs, a tinkling sound emitting from her chest. “I’ve always wanted a daughter like you. Jungkook is two more handfuls than I can handle sometimes, especially when he was young.” The older woman shakes his head with a fond expression. “He might not look like it but he’s still very much a child. I worry about him being gone so far for so long out of the entire year. So, I’m glad there’s someone like you looking out for him.” You’re touched by her sincerity, but you can’t help but feel like she’s gotten it wrong. You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the other. “Mrs. Jeon—” “You can call me auntie, if you’d like.” You nod timidly. “Jungkook actually looks out for me a lot more than I do for him. He really helped me through a lot of tough times, so really, I should be the one thanking him….” She smiles, the wrinkles around her eyes creasing. “Then I’m even more grateful that Jungkook’s not hopeless. It’s good that the two of you have one another.” Part of you wants to tell her that you’re unequivocally in love with her son. But by the twinkle in her eye, you get a sense that she already knows the true nature between you and Jungkook. You don’t need to say it aloud or make any announcements. Her smile becomes more tender in the small silence and then she finally bids you a goodnight, flicking off the lights in the room. You end up laying there for a while. You receive Jungkook’s text telling you this is so dumb and you laugh. The bright lights of your phone eventually burns your eyes too much, so you throw it aside, opting to stare at the ceiling and listen to his house. You can hear doors closing, footsteps, the flicker of the hallway light turning off and more doors closing. Silence settles in for a good ten minutes, but before you can completely drift off to sleep, your door cracks open. A familiar boy sneaks into your room with a soft sigh. He shuts the door silently and nimbly avoids all the creaks in the floorboards, knowing where each of them are after growing up and spending his childhood in these four walls. “You’re not supposed to be here.” You sit up, covers pooling around your waist. His feet slide and the mattress dips underneath his weight. “And I care because…?” You scoff. “Rebellious, aren’t you, Jeon?” “You don’t even know the start of it.” He grins. “I just want to lay with you for a while. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” “But your parents don’t know that. What happens if they catch you here?” you ask while peeling back the covers anyhow, happily inviting him in. “Nothing will happen. It’s okay.” “Yeah, but they might hate me...for tainting their son.” “Impossible.” Jungkook settles in and pulls the covers up to keep you warm. You cuddle yourself into him and he props his chin on top of your head. “And they don’t care about that. They just don’t want any Jeon grandkids, or at least not until we graduate.” “Psh. You’re going to have to prove yourself before you implant anything in my uterus, Jeon.” His nose wrinkles at your euphemism, but then he pokes your side, making you squirm. “Prove myself? Haven’t I already?” “Just cause I let you kiss me a few times doesn’t mean I have plans to make this long-term,” you tease and this time he’s the one scoffing. Jungkook rolls on top of you, pinning you underneath him. The soft glow of the lamp posts outside on the suburban street comes through the window and when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you’re able to discern a few of his features — especially that sulking expression of his. Jungkook’s such a baby sometimes. Or at least he likes to be babied by you. Yoongi, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin would shit themselves if they saw him now. But it makes you happy to be the only one who can see this endearing side of him. “What more do you want to put me through, hmm?” You cock your head to the side. “Who knows, you might just get bored of me in a few weeks, Jeon. Better not to jump the gun.” “I don’t think so. What do you take me for? Someone with that low of an attention span?” “Well…” You draw out the syllable. “Last I checked, you still don’t know how to make flowers with gum paste.” His tongue clicks in annoyance and he starts to tickle you again at your weakest parts. You squirm underneath him, giggling as your legs kick to no avail. It makes the bed squeak, the headboard hitting against the wall and Jungkook laughs and quickly lets up. He covers your mouth with his palm. “Shush! You’re going to wake them up.” You peel off his hand, harshly whispering, “You started it.” Jungkook’s smile is big enough to make his cheeks hurt. He missed you — your company, warmth, the teasing banter. It’s hard to fathom that his best friend is actually here with him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Jungkook leans down, locking his lips against yours. Your soft mouths slots against each other like it’s the way it always should have been and he relishes in the groan you release. It’s a gentle kiss, one that merely tests the waters and then he pulls away. You blink up at him, breath leaving through your parted lips that now taste like his vanilla chapstick. “No funny business, remember?” “I know.” Jungkook gets off of you, resuming his place by your side. “But I wasn’t planning any ‘funny business’. Where has your mind gone too?” Your cheeks heat. “I’m just saying.” He chuckles softly, arm slung across your waist. You’re pulled close as he nestles in. It’s easy to relax and your hand lifts to wrap around his back. The both of you hold each other for a while in the comfortable darkness underneath the cozy covers. You’re lulled in his company. “Jungkook.” “Hmm?” “You can’t fall asleep here.” “I know,” he mumbles. But contrary to Jungkook’s words, he does fall asleep with you — sharing the same bed like those nights in Tahiti. Only in the morning, when dawn breaks and the morning light comes through the glass windows are you both naturally shaken awake. It’s then that Jungkook scratches his bed hair flopping in all directions, eyes swollen as he stumbles back to his own bedroom. And you drift back to sleep with a softened smile on your face.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #bts reader insert #jungkook reader insert #btsboulangerie #LET'S GO Y'ALL

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boxoftheskyking · 3 years

Text

Pick Up Every Piece, Part Five

In which we have a scene at the bar

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Early November 2000

When Jiang Cheng comes to the bar on his own, he lets Wei Ying watch his back. Which is to say, he sits at the bar and doesn’t spend the whole time half-turned to keep an eye on the door. When Jin Zixuan joins them, he hangs by the corner of the bar by the weird old poker machine that hasn’t worked in years, and he mostly avoids eye contact.

“Hey Zixuan,” Wei Ying says, grinning. “How’s your cousin?”

“Hm?” He’s so polite, always, in a snobby kind of way. Like he knows he’s better than you, but he’s far too well-bred to admit it. Wei Ying sometimes wonders if he got that from his mother. Wei Ying has never really spoken to Mrs. Jin outside of an awkward few minutes at the wedding, but what he knows of the rest of the family is far more in the “knows they’re better than you and will tell you to your face” camp.

“Your cousin, you know.” He winks at Jiang Cheng. “It’s the liiiiiife of the Jin!”

Jiang Cheng joins in, “What’s going down in Lanling—”

“Cut it out!” Zixuan reaches out like he’s going to cover Jiang Cheng’s mouth, but he doesn’t.

“It’s catchy!” Jiang Cheng giggles. It’s a gratifying sight.

“That show should be outlawed,” Zixuan says darkly.

“It’s genius,” Wei Ying argues, drinking in the two of them there, together. “Nie Huaisang is a visionary.”

“I’m going to have him imprisoned. He’s a curse.”

“He’s a genius. It’s a totally new art form.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Art form. It’s boring. I like seeing Jin Zixun humiliated as much as anyone, but it’s just rich people sitting around being stupid and rich.”

“It’s reality, but also pure escapism. It’s brilliant.”

“It’s a threat to national security,” Zixuan says. Wei Ying cackles.

Jiang Cheng makes a face. “There’s no story! There’s no, like, script.”

“There is a story! It’s all how Huaisang edits it.” Wei Ying hasn’t actually talked to Nie Huaisang in years, so he’s not that personally invested, but he can’t resist the chance to disagree with both Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan at the same time.

Zixuan slides his glass over for a refill. “Zixun is never going to get a real job. He has no skills, he can’t do anything useful, so he sits around and has cameras follow him? It’s a disgrace.”

“It’s the most watched show in the country. I watch it every week.”

Jiang Cheng intercepts Zixuan’s glass to steal a sip. “That’s because you also don’t have a real job.”

“Serve yourself then, asshole.”

“We don’t watch reality TV, we work. We’re civil servants.”

“I’ve written six columns on The Life of Jin, I’ll have you know. So it is my job. And I’m more of a civil servant than you, I barely make any money.” It earns him a pair of eyerolls, but they won’t insult the paper to his face. Not anymore. “I can’t believe they made you both work today.” It’s the wrong thing to say, and Wei Ying covers his wince to fill a row of pints.

“Yeah, well.” Zixuan scratches the back of his neck. He keeps his hair a bit long, like Jiang Cheng does, but on him it feels like a memorial. “Five years. I guess I can’t keep getting time off forever.”

Jiang Cheng is drumming his fingers on the bar, looking away.

“Five years to the day, though,” Wei Ying offers. He leans in, almost wanting to touch . . . something, then twirls away to ring someone up. He feels like a bird, a swallow, dipping and soaring and coming in close for a moment before getting scared back up to a tree top.

When he comes back the tension has receded.

“Dad wants me to move over to the business side of things,” Zixuan is saying.

“Leave intelligence?” Jiang Cheng’s brow furrows, clearly already imagining following his brother-in-law over to the corporate hellhole of Jin Industries.

“Yeah. He keeps talking about the CEO gig, as if I’m qualified.”

“No offense,” Wei Ying says, “but your dad has never been big on qualified.”

“What about Guangyao?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“He’s not the face Dad wants for the company. I don’t know, it’s like during the war, he’s staying back in his lab and his back office, tinkering with stuff. Dad wants a stupid— A face. You know, dynasty bullshit.”

“Like those propaganda posters.” Wei Ying grins at him. “That noble profile. I had one on my bedroom wall.”

“Don’t be creepy.” Jiang Cheng goes to smack him, but he ducks away. “You did not.”

“It wasn’t propaganda.” Zixuan sighs, having lost this argument before.

“It was good propaganda,” Jiang Cheng argues.

Wei Ying keeps his thoughts to himself, for once. He doesn’t comment on Jin Guangyao, either, though he could. A drunk girl yells at him from the other side of the bar, which helps.

“But like—” Zixuan takes a long gulp, spinning his fingers in frustration, looking for the words. “This is what I trained for. I joined the army at eighteen. I was in the army when it was just prison security and diplomatic escorts. My degree is decoration, and he knows that. It’s an art piece on the office wall, it doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just become this business guy. It’s like— He doesn’t actually know me, who I am, what I’m good at. He just expects me to work wherever he plugs me in, to just be the best at whatever he thinks I should be the best at. I’m already the best at something. Right? I’m too old to be the best at something else.”

Wei Ying shrugs in sympathy. “Welcome to your thirties, eh?”

Jiang Cheng drains his glass, his third already. “He wants you to be a liquid.”

“What?”

“He thinks you’re a liquid. Your dad. Fit the shape of your container.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m not a fucking liquid.”

Jiang Cheng points at him. “That’s right. You’re not a fucking liquid.”

“I’m a solid.”

“You’re solid as shit, man.” Jiang Cheng pounds on Zixuan’s chest, and he winces slightly.

It’s nine o’clock, so Wei Ying decides he gets to pour himself a whiskey. He puts an orange slice in it, for vitamins.

Jin Zixuan looks into his own glass, thoughtfully. “Although, I mean. What’s a liquid without a container? Just a puddle, right?”

“Or a river,” Jiang Cheng says. They pause to contemplate rivers.

“What kind of liquid would you be?” Wei Ying asks, watching the gold of his liquor swirl around the melting ice cubes and the orange peel.

Zixuan huffs a laugh. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Vegetable soup,” Wei Ying says, then winces again.

“Soup,” Jiang Cheng agrees, quietly.

“Yeah,” Zixuan says. “Soup.”

They stare down into their glasses, drink.

“That reminds me,” Zixuan says, rallying after a long moment and pulling his fancy silver business card holder out of his breast pocket. “I got a new number.”

He hands Wei Ying a classy white card. It’s not his government one, just his phone number and his new email. Of course Jin Zixuan would have a personal business card, printed up by a printing company somewhere.

“Did you get rid of the old phone?” Wei Ying asks, carefully. Jiang Cheng looks between them, also careful, saying nothing.

“No, I just had to— I moved it to the basement. I can’t keep . . . The answering machine is still hooked up to the old one. I’ll still wipe the tape, so you can call—”

“Thanks.” We don’t talk about it. Let’s keep not talking about it. Wei Ying rinses a glass that’s already clean.

“If you want. It’s not a problem. I just can’t keep—”

“Yeah.” He wipes the glass, too quickly, the damp microfiber squeaks a little.

“A-Ling gets confused. He hears you say her name, you say ‘Jiejie,’ and he—”

“Yeah, I get it, no problem.” Wei Ying rinses the glass again.

“You can call me, though.” Jin Zixuan is looking at him, which he rarely actually does right in the face, horribly earnest. “You know that. You can call the new number and talk to him, or to me.”

“I know. I will.” He probably won’t. He looks over at Jiang Cheng, who’s chewing on his lip. Yanli would scold him for that, say that’s why it keeps chapping, worse now that it’s getting colder. He doesn’t leave her messages, Wei Ying doesn’t think. He doesn’t need crutches like that, he straps the anger onto himself like steel braces and gets on with things, limping.

Wei Ying would like to be angry, especially today on the five year anniversary. Five full years without her. That would be a comfort, such a relief, to be angry. But he doesn’t get to be angry when Jiang Cheng is around.

Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “I can’t believe your dad allows Zixun to do that show.”

Zixuan draws himself up, sucking in a breath like he’s coming out of water. “He must get something from it. Like some kind of PR or something.”

Wei Ying goes into the back and carries out a case of wine and a case of cider, loads them into the cooler. It takes a while, he has to pull things out so the warm bottles go in the back. He can vaguely hear his brothers insulting Jin Zixun and the state of modern television, keeping it light. He stares at the label on a bottle of cider—it’s an apple with a face, one of those unnerving cartoon faces where all the teeth are the same size and shape. No one’s teeth look like that.

He shuts the cooler and returns.

“If Zixun looks like a fool,” Wei Ying says thoughtfully, interrupting them like he’s supposed to, “then he’s mostly harmless. He’s a goofball. It must be useful for the great and powerful Jin to have a goofball side. It makes you look less, I don’t know . . .” He could say a lot of things. He could say things like tyrannical or despotic or calculating or morally questionable. He doesn’t say any of it, just waves his hands around.

Zixuan looks like he hears the words anyway, and as usual, he stares out across the bar. “He’s a sacrifice, I suppose. Zixun. He’s always been the spare.”

“Do you think he knows he’s being played?” Jiang Cheng asks. “Would he keep doing it if he knew?”

“My dad,” Zixuan says slowly. “Doesn’t play Go. Metaphorically speaking. Not like A-Yao does. But he does play poker. Zixun—” he spins the glass between his hands. “Zixun plays hopscotch. Badly.”

Wei Ying snorts, and it feels nice.

“I guess I don’t like the show so much anymore,” he says, pouting.

“Good,” Jiang Cheng reaches out and flicks his ear. Wei Ying lets him.

“Why does everything have to be nefarious?” Wei Ying whines, meaning reality TV but also Jiang Cheng and his mean fingers “Can’t we have something that’s just dumb? Aren’t we there, as a country, where we can just have stupid shit that’s stupid and doesn’t mean anything?”

“You mean besides you, and also your face?” Jiang Cheng asks. Zixuan sighs at them in a judgmental way.

Wei Ying taps his chin. “Although, there’s a column there. The insidious political machinations of so-called reality.” He hits the button to roll out some receipt paper and makes a few notes.

“I just don’t get why he does it,” Jiang Cheng muses. “He has to know he looks bad. Right? Like, he has to.” As if everyone is as pathologically obsessed with their public appearance as you are, which is something Wei Ying does not say. “It’s not like he needs the money.”

As always, that’s its own flavor of uncomfortable. Zixuan makes more money than Jiang Cheng, and has a trust fund on top of it. He keeps trying to make it up by buying expensive presents and starting a tab wherever they go, but Jiang Cheng won’t take it. He used to, back when Zixuan was just their shitty rich brother-in-law, or Yanli’s shitty rich boyfriend. He used to call it “Yanli’s dowry” when he’d leave his birthday dinner with a new stereo or a nice watch. Now that they’re friends, though, he gets pissed off. He’ll get mad if Zixuan buys him a hardcover instead of a paperback, now that they’re friends. He’s a complicated man. So is Zixuan, in his way.

That’s probably why they get along so well, and why Wei Ying is always a half a step off of their weird masculine choreography. Wei Ying fancies himself a complicated man, but it’s different. He’s in control in a way they don’t seem to be, not of his life but of his face and his voice and his sentence structure. It makes him a good reporter.

They, on the other hand, have always been good soldiers.

Wei Ying had cried when Jiang Cheng enlisted, mid-’93.

“You watch too many war movies,” he’d said, looking down at this lap, twisting his hands together, face hot and heart racing. “It won’t be like that, A-Cheng, there’s not any glory in it, it’ll just be horrible—”

“It’s the right thing to do.” Jiang Cheng had been stubborn as always, chin jutting out. “Wen Chao’s last attack—I can’t just sit here.”

Yanli hadn’t cried at all, she’d just looked between them, silent.

“Why don’t you come too?”Jian Cheng had asked him, eyes like a six-year-old. “You’d be good at it. We could do it together.”

“No, I gotta— Someone’s gotta report on all your heroics, right?” Wei Ying had been sweating, panicked, chills running down his arms, blowing his nose again and again. “Maybe I’ll get an assignment so I can follow you around and sing about your adventures. Like something out of those ancient poems, right?”

He’d been wrong about his role in the war, but more right than he’d be able to guess about ancient poetry. Because cultivation was real. Magic was real, and his brother was somehow mixed up in it.

He got drunk with Yanli the week after the first cultivator battle. The first battle with the new cultivator corps. Zixuan, Jiang Cheng, Lan Zhan, Mianmian, and the others.

“You husband is a wizard,” Wei Ying had said, slurring.

“Your brother is a wizard.” Yanli had flicked a sunflower seed into his lap.

That was her secret: when Yanli got drunk she could go through two bags of sunflower seeds by herself. She got the cheap ones from the gas station on the corner and split them with her teeth, scattering shells everywhere like a little disaster zone. She’d clean up all the evidence in the morning, before anyone woke up. She was almost never hungover.

Wei Ying loved that about her, the evidence she left, her secret messiness. He’d catch a stray shell in the corner, behind a potted plant or caught in the fringe of an area rug, and he’d get so rocked with love—violent, breathless love for her—that his vision would go spotty.

Or maybe that’s just how he remembers it, now that she’s gone.

“Actually, he’s your brother too,” Wei Ying had said at the time, poking her nose. “Your husband and your brother are both wizards. So what does that make you?”

“Well, there’s Lan Zhan. You’re blushing, see, you’re blushing. And Mianmian. They’re your—”

“Friends.”

“Yeah, but you kissed both of them.”

Wei Ying had stuck out his tongue at her, or done something equally childish.

She’d cracked a sunflower seed and popped it into her mouth. “We could be wizards if we wanted to.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely”

“We just aren’t.”

“We’re busy.”

“We are busy people.”

Wei Ying is shaken out of the memory by a pint glass slamming down on the bar, just missing Jiang Cheng’s elbow. It’s Li Wangcheng, youngest son of his usual source, Li Riseung.

“Fill ‘er up, asshole,” Li Wangcheng says, listing into his buddies on either side. Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are both looking at him with equally disdainful nose wrinkles. “Chop chop.”

Wei Ying sighs. “Sorry, Wangcheng, you’re cut off. I already over-served you, and I promised your dad and your brother I wouldn’t.”

“Fuck you.”

“Your liver can’t take it. Here, have some water and go sit down.”

“Fuck you, Wei Ying. Fuck you.” He’s pushing off his friends, leaning over the bar with his tobacco-stained teeth and his mix-of-alcohol breath.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wei Ying moves away, wiping down the counter, and Wangcheng follows.

“I’ll fucking kill you. You watch your back, bitch, I’ll fucking find you, and I’ll kill you.”

Wei Ying puts up his hands. “Okay, man, take it easy.”

“I know where you live. I know where you park your bike. Your stupid little fucking— Your stupid bike.”

His two biggest friends start pulling at his elbow, pulling him away. He shakes them off.

“Don’t think I won’t. Don’t think I won’t find you, motherfucker.”

Jiang Cheng is off his stool, now, and Zixuan is moving around behind him, coming in to engage. Wei Ying waves them off, desperately. Wen Ning is leaving his spot by the door.

“When you leave tonight, you better—”

“The fuck did you say?” Jiang Cheng is up in his face, now, and Wei Ying has to come out from behind the bar. He hates leaving the bar, it’s his comfortable place to be.

“Leave it. A-Cheng, A-Xuan, leave it, leave it.” He gets himself between them all, holding his brother back. Wen Ning has a good hold on Wangcheng’s shoulders.

“Fuck you.” That sprays a bit in his face, the plosive. “Everything was fine before you came here. Yiling was fine before you came here, and then everything went to shit.”

“That’s not—” Jiang Cheng tries to butt in, but Wei Ying sticks an elbow in his gut.

“I said, leave it.”

“Fucking worthless,” Wangcheng spits at him, and Wen Ning and his friends haul him back towards the door. “Fucking demon. You’re a fucking demon, Wei Ying! Fucking cursed!”

Wen Ning throws them out, and the silence following is awkward, no one looking at each other. Wei Ying wipes his face, straightens Jiang Cheng’s shirt collar, and goes back to work. There’s a short woman standing there, frozen, holding out her empty glass. He gets her another gin and cranberry, pleased that he remembered, and she gives him a pitying kind of smile. He hides his hands down by his sides, but he knows she’s seen them. Everyone can see them; he doesn’t cover them.

“Holy shit,” Jiang Cheng says, still staring back at the door.

“Yeah. Never mind.” Wei Ying readjusts his t-shirt.

“Never mind? That was a death threat. For what, cutting him off?”

“Forget about it.”

“For cutting him off? What the fuck?”

“A-Cheng, forget it.”

“I’m not gonna forget it, that guy knows where you live.”

“It’s fine, it happens. Leave it. Please? Leave it.”

Jiang Cheng sits down. Zixuan says nothing, looking between Jaing Cheng and the door.

“Does it happen a lot?” Jiang Cheng is interrogating, intelligence-mode.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Wei Ying, does it happen a lot?”

“I mean, a bit. Okay?”

“For cutting—?”

“It’s not about cutting him off. It’s not about that. It’s not about me. Calm down.”

“Sure sounded like it’s about you. ‘Demon,’ really—”

“If it wasn’t me it would be someone else. Wen Ning. His friends. His dad.” Wei Ying chops more limes than he needs to, calmed by the sharpness of the knife. “He’s dying. Actually dying, everyone knows it. His liver is shot. He’s been laid off for months, and he can’t pay for any more treatment. His dad’s broke, mom died in the war. He’s lashing out.”

“But that’s not your—”

“You can’t swing at the clouds forever. Right? He’s not the only one. People feel good here, they feel comfortable here, and so they can hit someone here if they need to. You get beaten down and beaten down for year after year, eventually you have to fight back. Right? Otherwise what are you?” What am I? he doesn’t ask.

Zixuan clears his throat, still not looking at him. “What’s the use of fighting you? You’re not—”

Wei Ying laughs at him, mean. “What’s he gonna do, fight your dad? The whole fucking government? Who can he hit? After a while, you have to hit something or you’ll go mad. You have to make contact. Right?” He chops another lime. “You have to have an effect on something. You have to hit someone and see the bruise, or yell at someone and see them flinch. Otherwise it’s like you don’t exist at all. You’re already dead.”

“Wei Ying,” Zixuan says it, which is a surprise. He almost never says his name.

“Somewhere like this, somewhere like Yiling, all you can reach is the guy next to you. Once they put the crabs in the bucket, they put the lid on.”

The chatter in the bar is back, which is nice since there’s an awkward silence between the three of them. Wei Ying puts the chopped limes into the cooler and washes the cutting board, washes the knife. He replaces a drink at the other end of the bar earlier than he normally would—the guy is only halfway through, but he nods a thanks.

“What about—” Zixuan starts, hesitant. “Wei Ying, what about police?”

“Ha!” Wei Ying snaps it at him, not a laugh, not at all. “Don’t you— You don’t come here, into my bar, talking about police.”

“I didn’t come in talking about police, I’m just saying—”

“No cops in Yiling.” He shuts a cooler with his heel, a satisfying slam. “Cops are military, and the military hates Yiling.”

Zixuan bristles. “No, we don’t.”

He always does this. It’s one of the things Wei Ying can’t process about him, and one of the reasons they’ve never been close and probably never will be. It’s always “we.” The Jins, the government, the military. Wei Ying can like him if he doesn’t see Jin Guangshan, if he doesn’t see Jin Guangyao, if he doesn’t see the war when he looks at him. But then he comes in with the “we.”

It’s probably sad, actually, how long he’s been a soldier. How much of him is wrapped up in being his dad’s perfect soldier.

Wei Ying bites his tongue, takes a breath. “Of course you do. Everyone in charge hates Yiling.”

“I don’t hate Yiling.” Zixuan is getting stubborn. He looks like A-Ling, almost a pout. “It’s where you live, and you’re my family.”

Wei Ying blinks at him. “I don’t know how to talk to you when you get like this.”

“Like what?”

“Sincere. All, you know—” he waves an empty bottle around in Zixuan’s face. “Sincere.”

The pout becomes more of a pout. “I’m always sincere.

“Yeah, that’s why we don’t talk.”

Jiang Cheng leans across the bar and snags the rail whiskey bottle to top off his own glass.

“I can beat you up later, if you like,” Zixuan offers.

“Yeah.” Wei Ying doesn’t want to smile, but he does anyway. “Maybe.”

The silence isn’t awkward this time. Wei Ying takes the whiskey bottle back from Jiang Cheng and makes a show of wiping it off with the bleach rag. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

After a while, Jiang Cheng asks, “Is there something happening here this month? For the five years? Like a memorial or something?” He’s looking away, all careful again.

“Is Lanling doing something?” They look at Zixuan, only slightly accusing on Wei Ying’s part.

“No. I mean December 3 there will be a whole . . . Armistice anniversary.”

“But nothing for Sunshot. Nothing for the massacre I mean,” Wei Ying says.

“I mean, not specifically.” Zixuan licks his lips. “I’m sure it’ll be mentioned.”

“Nothing here, though?” Jiang Cheng asks again.

“Trust me, people around here aren’t the ones that need reminding what you’re— what Lanling is capable of.”

“That’s not fair,” Zixuan says.

Wei Ying looks down at his hands, the mottled brown of them. Flies, flies and dirt and flies and chemicals and flies. “Don’t talk about fair. Not about this.”

Zixuan opens his mouth, but Jiang Cheng shakes his head, violently.

“A-Cheng, it’s not—”

“Stop it.” Jiang Cheng is glaring at him now, the kind of look Wei Ying gets all the time, but Zixuan doesn’t see so much. It makes him stop.

Wei Ying goes to the back and grabs the broom. Jiang Cheng reaches over for the gin bottle and tops off Zixuan’s glass. Wei Ying pretends he doesn’t see it and starts at the far end of the bar. It’s getting slower, people heading out for the night to more exciting places.

A song comes on, something from his college days. He remembers recording it onto a cassette tape from the radio, keeping it in his backpack. Lan Zhan didn’t really like it, but he let Wei Ying play it all the time on his cheap little dorm room stereo.

Wei Ying sings along under his breath as he sweeps. “And if I lied, would you forgive me. Whoa-oh-oh. Fit to be tied, but you still live with me. Oh, whoa-oh-oh.”

“This song,” Zixuan says, smiling a little. “We used to— We used to fight a lot. A-Li and I. Stupid stuff. I was late for dinner. My mom would get so overbearing and we’d fight about that. Her mom would— Well, you know. We’d fight about that. Baby stuff. We didn’t know what to do about baby stuff, so she bought out the whole section of the book store and said we’d divide and conquer. But every book was different, so we’d argue. Dr. Po says this. Well, Dr. Wen says that. She could be so— You’re all so stubborn. Stupid stuff. And we’d be so pissed off we stopped speaking to each other. But I bought her this CD once, not for a birthday or anything, just because. She loved them from way back. And she’d put it on, and we’d dance, and we wouldn’t be mad anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said, clearing his throat. “She liked that sappy shit.”

“Do you play it for A-Ling?” Wei Ying asks.

Zixuan shakes his head. “It makes me sad to hear it. I spend most of my time trying not to be sad around A-Ling.”

Jiang Cheng moves like he’s going to touch him, his arm, his shoulder. He aborts the move and grabs his glass instead, slides it over to tap against Zixuan’s.

“You’re doing good,” he says.

Zixuan looks down, blinking seriously.

“You are,” Wei Ying agrees. “You’re doing good. And you know it pains me to say it.”

Zixuan gives him an echo of a laugh.

“A-Ling is lucky.”

“He’d be luckier if his uncles would visit. Both of them.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying say in unison.

“You want me to change the song?” Wei Ying asks.

“No, leave it. It’s good. It’s a nice song.”

An old woman leans on the bar—she’s familiar but Wei Ying can’t remember her name. “Hey, hey, Wei Ying!”

“Yeah, auntie?” he smiles charmingly at her.

“You know my daughter’s coming home soon. December 21.”

“Cheers to that!” he gives her a half-salute.

“I’ll set you up, once she’s home. Just you wait, she’s the prettiest, even now.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“She makes that jumpsuit look like runway fashion. Still has her figure, even with the prison food.”

“Can’t wait,” Wei Ying says politely.

“December 21,” the old woman waves her finger at him and heads for the door.

“Invite me to the wedding,” Jiang Cheng teases.

“December 21,” Wei Ying rolls it around in his mouth. “The Wens are coming home.”

Zixuan straightens up. “Really?”

“That’s what we’re celebrating. We don’t celebrate the Massacre, but innocent people coming home? That’s worth it.”

“Innocent is—”

“Zixuan, think about where you are.”

Zixuan nods.

All of the Wens who’d been scooped up post-Sunshot, post-war, those related to rebels or in the wrong place at the wrong time, they’d all been sentenced to five years in prison. “Just to be safe.” The majority came from Yiling, Dafan, other small towns in the West. People who couldn’t afford to run to Lanling, to Gusu, somewhere safe during the worst of the fighting. People who wouldn’t turn their backs on brothers and aunts and cousins in Nightless City.

But five years have almost passed, and the Wens are coming home.

“It’ll be weird, won’t it?” Jiang Cheng asks, diplomatic in his insensitivity.

“A hundred and forty-three people,” Wei Ying says. “At least, that’s how many went in. I’m sure a couple fucked up inside, got their sentences extended.”

“But still.”

“But still,” he agrees.

“Are you going to do something for it? In December?” Jiang Cheng asks him.

“Dunno. I should stock up though, shouldn’t I? I’ll make a note.”

Later, after Jiang Cheng and Zixuan leave for Jiang Cheng’s Yiling sublet—a two bedroom so Zixuan doesn’t have to get his own place in town—Wei Ying sweeps up while Wen Ning flips chairs up on the tables.

“Have you ever gotten over something?” Wei Ying asks him.

“Like what?” Wen Ning stops working and looks at him. He always does that—Wei Ying has always wondered if he had hearing loss as a kid. If he’s talking to you, he always has to stop whatever he’s doing and look at you right in the face.

“I don’t know. But have you ever stood there a second and realized you were over something? Or through something. You know, on the other side?”

Wen Ning thinks for a while, and Wei Ying sweeps around his feet. “School, I guess.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What about you?”

Wei Ying leans down with the dust pan. “I don’t think I’ve ever come out the other side of anything. I think maybe if you stay in something long enough you adapt. Grow gills or whatever, so you can breathe. So you can survive when the world turns unlivable around you. And maybe you aren’t living at all, maybe you’re a stone, or you’re a dead fish with rotten eyes, washed up on the bank of a river that dried up years and years ago.”

Wen Ning still looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn’t ask Wei Ying to make sense. It’s what Wei Ying appreciates the most about him.

“So maybe you’re dead, or maybe you’re evolving. Like, maybe that’s just what the world is now, and what you would have previously defined as dead, what you’d look at ten years ago and say that’s a dead thing, maybe that’s just what life looks like now. Evolution.”

Wen Ning nods and picks up a chair. “I think . . . I might be remembering wrong, but I think evolution takes a long time. Like many generations. So maybe you should look at the kids.”

“The kids?”

“Yeah, see if the kids have gills. Or whatever. Whatever you said.”

Wei Ying leans his chin on his broom and watches Wen Ning go table by table, strong and methodical. He sets the chairs so gently on the tabletops that it doesn’t make any noise. He flips them with complete control and lines up the seats.

“Maybe,” Wei Ying says. He goes back behind the bar and turns up the music. There’s work to do before heading home

#assorted writings #pick up every piece #the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi

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cherry-gemz · 3 years

Text

The City by the Bay: Part V

Summary: Fates push you and a handsome and known stranger into each other's paths. His chilvary and good looks make you take a leap into his world and more.

Chapter: The woman in Keanu's house is revealed; you and Keanu go out on an official date to his book signing.

Catch up HERE

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Y/N (F!Reader)

Rating: Mature, 18+

Word count: 2.5k

Who might be interested: @whiskeyslullabye @marissat1998 @aestheticallywinchester @fookingbetch @keanureevesisbae @romereadingshop @a-little-counter-esperanto

“I’m Mnfhdphf,” you mumble with your mouth full.

"What?" She asks again, annoyed.

"She's Y/N, Meredith," Keanu replies as he walks in, pulling a shirt over his head.

"I'm Y/N," you finally respond clearly.

"Yeah, got that," she chides.

Keanu walks over to you and grabs a piece of cheese, popping it in his mouth.

"Y/N, this is Meredith...my agent. Meredith, Y/N...Y/N is my guest."

"Oooh, your agent. N-nice to meet you," you reply and hold out your hand.

She gives you a curtly smile, but you know it's ingenuine.

"What the hell, Keanu?" She directs her annoyance to him.

As if he already knows what she's thinking, he raised his hand into submission.

"Look, it was a small accident. No one got hurt."

She tuts at him and tosses the manilla envelope on the marble slab counter.

"What's this?" He asks innocently and takes the document.

"A role...they're filming here in the city. Figured you'd be interested since your project has kept you here."

You tug at the hem of his shirt and cough, "I'll leave you to it...just gonna go get dressed."

"That would be best," Meredith snaps.

"Play nice," Keanu says unphased and reviews the script. "Huh…"

You hear him discuss a few things with her as you scamper to the living room to grab you jeans.

"What?"

He scratches the back of his neck and cranes it to the side, "I dunno, Mer. It's um…"

"It's what?"

"Dancing?"

"Yeah, so?"

"I dunno how to dance. I haven't done something like this," he shakes his head and tosses the script haphazardly on the counter.

You jump into your jeans and quickly button the button.

"Did you say dancing?" You ask across the living room.

Meredith crosses her arms and rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, this role requires me to waltz."

"There's this dance studio on Van Ness. We passed it coming here…" you quickly reply, thinking that the last time you were there was with your ex.

"Let me guess, you're a dancer," Meredith retorts.

"No...I work at a bookstore...I mean that's not all I do…"

"She's a chef, Mer. Lay off," Keanu replies.

"Oh fantastic. You almost kill yourself while riding in the rain with a bookstore girl?"

Keanu's hand motioned her to stop, "If this is about the accident, it was my fault. Don't out blame on Y/N."

"You can't just go gallivanting around the city! Or you at least call me to tell me you're okay! I had to call a million people, plus the studio, and lie until I saw you. You didn't answer your phone!"

"I'm sorry…" you pipe up. "I didn't mean for things to get out of hand...if you want me to leave-"

"YES."

"No," Keanu said cooly.

Meredith shot Keanu a death glare, but he shrugged it off and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

"Keanu…" she started to say as he shook his head.

"You got what you came for, Mer. You saw me, I'm fine. I'll take a look at the script and let you know. I'll call you in the morning."

"But-"

"Now, Mer I know you're coming from a good place, but you've been rude to my guest. So please see yourself at the door and we'll talk later."

Meredith's mouth stayed open like a cod fish and shot daggers over your way.

"Fine. Let me know first thing in the morning. Otherwise who knows, Hugh Jackman might swoop in on this. And don't forget, you have the signing party tomorrow night."

"Yeah, okay, Mer. Thanks."

She pivoted on her heel and headed to the foyer and out the door.

You plopped on the leather couch, stunned at their interaction.

"Gosh…" you were able to say. "I didn't think that would happen to me today."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. Meredith means well. She's tough as nails and has been my agent for years. I get why she was upset, but she had no right to talk to you that way."

He picked up the folder and walked over to the couch to sit next to you.

"It's okay...I mean, I don't know her from Adam. But definitely don't want to be on her bad side again."

"Heh, yeah. Me either."

You gulp as he sits comfortably next to you. Is this what it's like? Being normal next to the global superstar? Just be cool, Y/N.

"So, do you have any plans tomorrow?"

Your voice cracks, "What?"

"I had a fantastic time with you...I hope there will be more…" he smacks his forehead and blushes, "Gosh. I didn't mean it like that."

You stifle a giggle. I hope there will be more moments like that in the bedroom.

"What I mean to say is, I'd like you to be my date tomorrow at this signing thing...that is if you'd like to come?'

***

The next day you're on cloud nine. You've chatted to your brother about meeting the famous actor and he hadn't stopped asking you how he was and is he as cool as he seems. It's as if he wanted to go out on a date with him instead.

“Ask him for an autograph,” he asks.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, CJ,” you roll your eyes as you pace your bedroom.

“What? Not for you, for me!”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, I have my Matrix poster that I can give you-“

“I’m going? Ceej.”

“No, wait. Ask him more about Cyberpunk...like can he-“

“Bye, dude!” You reply and end the call. It was just you and your brother these days, your parents had passed on and while you loved him, he did drive you crazy from time to time. He was finishing his senior year at Sac state and being your baby brother, you’d think you were the protector. But instead he always was the one to check in on you, to make sure you were eating all your food groups and drinking water. You loved that nut despite his spaziness.

You find yourself going through your closet for an evening with the superstar. You pick up from your bed a black leather pencil skirt and hold it up to your waist. Unsure if you can pull it off and not really knowing what you'd match it with.

Your bedroom door swings open and it's your neighbor's teenage daughter, Cori.

"Oooh, what are you doing tonight?' she teased as she crunched the apple she held in her hand.

"Help yourself, Cor," you roll your eyes alluding to the fruit that she took from your counter. You toss the skirt on the bed, then pick up a pair of your comfy boyfriend jeans.

"I got some Dr. Marten's that would go great with that skirt," she says and plops down the bed, rummaging through your clothes.

"I have worn Doc Marten's before you were born," you laugh. She's a cute kid. Hella beautiful and smart. She's talked about joining the Air Force one day and you hope she gets there.

"You need to show some leg, Y/N."

"What are you doing here?" You tut and she hands you the pretty floral silk mini dress that you bought for a wedding last year and never wore again.

"It's for tonight. It'll be cold."

"Even better, he'll have to give you his jacket."

"How do you even know about these things? You're fifteen."

"Fifteen is the new twenty," she shrugs and gets up to your closet.

You stare at the dress. It's an outfit that does accentuate your legs and you've felt cute in it. Maybe Cori is right…

She returns and hands you a faux leather jacket that you bought at some boutique a few months ago.

"I dunno…"

She shoves it to your chest, "Trust me."

"I'm not sure if this is the right outfit for the event."

"What's it for then?"

"A book signing or something?"

"Ooh, he's an artist?"

"Kind of… thespian…" you blush and pull your shirt over your head and reach for the dress.

"Oh, like locally?" She crunches another bite of the apple and leans on the doorframe.

"Not exactly…"

You pull the leather jacket on and peer at your full length mirror. You look pretty good: chic and cool, not trying too hard, but an effort nonetheless.

"Black tights," she clicks her tongue and waggles her brows.

"Is that seriously in?"

"It's hot. Sheer tights and my boots, c'mon, Y/N."

"I dunno."

"Is he hot?"

You blush at the thought of Keanu and then that you're talking to a teenager about your love life.

"Oh, he is. Okay I'll be back with my boots," she replies and rushes out of the room.

"Cor! Wait!" You yell, but she's already down the hall. You look back at your reflection and bit your lip.

I can do this. What is one little night out with the man of your dreams? Nothing to be worried about.

***

Keanu insisted on picking you up despite your resistance. You told him it was fine and you could just meet up. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Which secretly you enjoyed.

The roar of his motorcycle echoed down your street and you pretended like you weren’t waiting for him for 30 minutes on your couch. Your palms were sweaty an your hair was falling flat, but the excitement was overwhelming.

The knock at your door startled you despite your ability to hear him approach your doorstep. You take one more look at yourself in the hall mirror and then open the door. He’s wearing a nice coat, a v-neck gray shirt, and jeans. Maybe you overdressed?

“Wow,” he says as you open the door. “I leveled up for sure.” You giggle as he hands you a bouquet of wildflowers. The bursts of yellow and orange are gorgeous and he can tell you’re pleased with them.

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady,” he smirks. You give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you…” you reply. “Come on in, I’ll put them in water and we can head out.”

He nods in agreement as you pivot towards your kitchen, nervous that you have him in your apartment. Keanu Reeves is in your apartment. Get it together Y/N, he was between your thighs the day before. You silently chuckle to yourself as an image flashes to your brain.

“What’s so funny?” he asks as you stare at him, caught in your thirsty moment.

"Oh, uh nothing really."

He smiles and rubs his chin, as if he could read your mind.

"I'm really looking forward to this,' he replies.

"Me, too. I hope I don't get too much in the way," you reply as you place the flowers in a vase full of water.

"Of course not," he leans his elbows on your kitchen counter. He fits here, you think. "I just hope it's not too boring."

"A night out with Keanu Reeves? Anything but boring."

He grimaces and smiles again, "No pressure."

"No pressure."

He claps his hands together and rubs them in eagerness. He's hit with a quick pain and grabs his side.

"Ke...you okay?" You leave the vase on the counter and go to his aid.

He gently touches his shoulder from the fall the day with you.

"Yeah, just got a little excited, heh. Ke. I like that."

A smile is brought to your face as you realized you called him that. It wasn't like you had thought of it before, but it fit.

"Do you need me to look at it?"

He cocked his brow, "Trying to get me shirtless again, Y/N?"

"I mean...not gonna lie. That does sound like a fun time…”

“Hey, I thought it was the intent to wine and dine you.”

“Is that so?” You coo and approach him, placing your hand on his chest. His brown eyes are soulful and deep, you could get lost in them. He leans in for a kiss and you close your eyes. His lips ignite a desire within and he encloses the gap and wraps hands around your waist. You press your body against his, the thinness of your dress makes the apex of your thighs ache.

He reluctantly pulls away, "At this rate I should cancel tonight."

"You can do that?"

"Sure, just let me call Meredith and you can tell why I won't be showing," he teases and pulls out his phone. You quickly grab it from his grasp.

"No, no need for that!"

"You sure? I bet she'd love to hear from you."

You look at his screen and pull open the camera app to take a candid shot of you two. Your first photo together.

"Let's go before I get you into more trouble."

***

BRZRKR. It's a comic book. You're attending Keanu's comic book signing party. CJ is going to flip his lid.

You arrive at a nearby bookstore, smaller than the one you work at, but it's filled with memorabilia, dolls, comics, posters of all types, heroes and anti-heroes.

Keanu downplayed this to the umpth degree. Considering how small the store was, it's jam packed with fans and media.

This is a big deal. Leave it to Keanu to say it was going to be an intimate evening. An intimate evening with 100 people you think to yourself.

The two of you didn't really talk about how to address things considering you showed up together. You were a bit busy hanging onto his strong abs as he whisked you away on his motorcycle through the city. So you weren't prepared with the paparazzi and journalists buzzing your way, trying to get a shot of the mystery woman who Keanu had arrived with.

He was escorted to the back of the store, you saw Meredith and she ignored you, purposefully. As he and the head comic writer dove into a Q&A session of how the idea was brought to life, a woman around your age accidentally bumps into you.

"Oh, excuse me!" She whispers as people continue to snap photos.

"It's okay," you reply and smile.

"This is something, huh?"

"Yeah," you nod, trying to hear what he says about comic series.

"What magazine are you with?" The woman asks. She's wearing Doc Marten's and you stifle a laugh to yourself.

"Me? Oh, I'm not a journalist. I work in a bookstore."

"This one?" She asks as she folds her arms, peering over to the table. Her hair, braided, is a natural red which is ridiculously beautiful. She's like a siren, and particularly calm.

"Oh no, just on Columbus. City Lights."

"Oh neat, so then you're a comic book enthusiast?"

"Me? I mean I've dabbled in Marvel and DC. But nothing like this."

"Yeah, tickets were hard to get for sure. I had to pull a few strings just to get this pass," she says and holds up a press lanyard.

"Oh," you reply. The crowd laughs and Keanu shakes his head smiling. Dangit, I wish I knew what they were talking about.

"How'd you get yours?"

"Um, Meredith gave it to me," you reply and then realized maybe you've said too much.

"Cool," the woman says unphased. "Mischa."

"Y\N," you say and then turn your attention to Keanu. "I'm gonna try to get a closer look," you say as a segway to leave.

"Oh sure, talk to you later," Mischa replies as you snake around the crowd to hear better.

***

After almost two hours, Keanu has done some meet and greets, and other press photos. You hang out in the back and peruse the rest of the store. Meredith approaches you from behind.

"So, what did you think?" She's wearing a slick, blush power suit and she looks amazing. Her short brunette hair is styled and for a second, she actually looks approachable.

"Very educational," you smile.

"Surprised you stayed this long."

"I hadn't realized what this actually was. Ke didn't make it sound like a big deal."

"Ke?"

"Um yeah," you blush. "Just a nickname."

"Already there, huh?" She stuffs her hands in her pants pocket and you don't understand the chip she has on her shoulder.

You ignore her comment,"So should I stay around?"

"He probably wouldn't notice you gone."

You give her a side eye, the nerve.

"Who's gone?" Keanu asks as he turns the corner and is between the two of you.

"No one," you beam as he places his hand on your shoulder.

"Mer you treating my girl alright?"

She grabs a wine glass from a nearby waiter and smirks, saying nothing and then walks away.

"Like a bulldog," you say as she disappears in the crowd.

"How about we get out of here?" He says and draws himself closer to you. "You smell fantastic by the way, did I mention that yet?"

You giggle and shake your head no, "What do you have in mind?"

"Are you up to show me the City at night?"

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x y/n #the city by the bay #romance #san fransico

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moldisgoodforyou · 4 years

Text

how lucky am I

gif by @toesure

summary: jj and charlie return home to the outer banks after their engagement. jj shows charlie around where he grew up - and sees his dad again after six years.

a/n: this is set in a post-grad universe (read this for background)! and thank you always to my friends @oopmyheartwent-obx and @sunnypogue for reading it over for me beforehand!!

warnings: cursing, emotional abuse, mentions of physical abuse.

wordcount: 4.7k

Charlie and JJ took an Uber from the airport as they flew home for the first time since they were engaged, about six months since when they had come home for Christmas. They entered her parents’ house, leaving their suitcases at the door. Charlie took JJ’s cap from him first, fluffing up his hair and giving him a quick kiss before bringing him into the kitchen. Both her parents were busy in the kitchen with their backs to them, music drifting over the radio. “Hey guys!” Charlie greeted cheerfully.

Her mom reacted first, whipping around at the sound of her daughter’s voice. “JJ! Charlie!” She hugged JJ first, catching him off guard, but he smiled and hugged her back after a beat. “Hi, Mrs. Walker. Whatever you’re making smells incredible.” Charlie had to resist rolling her eyes as her mom pulled back with her hand to her heart. “I told you, JJ, call me Suzie. We’re family now!” JJ nodded, grinning. “Yes ma’am.”

JJ then extended his arm toward her dad for a handshake, like usual between the two - but her dad pulled him in for a hug, clapping him on the back. “Good to see you, son. Your flight go okay?” JJ beamed at the approval, nodding. “Yes, sir - uh, Mr. Walker.” He corrected himself. Charlie’s dad shook his head and dropped JJ’s hand. “Mike is fine, JJ. You hungry?” He pulled Charlie into a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Dad, can we put our bags up in my room first?” Mike pulled back, giving her a look. “JJ’s bag goes in the guest room.” Charlie rolled her eyes. “Dad, we’re literally engaged -”

Her dad shook his head. “Guest room. Go put them away.” She sighed but nodded, pulling JJ upstairs. They could hear her mom berating her dad for not being nice enough as they walked upstairs and Charlie laughed. “The second they go to bed, you’re coming into my room.” JJ shook his head, but stayed quiet as he lugged their suitcases upstairs and into her room. “You good, J?” She asked, kissing his cheek. JJ nodded, a small smile on his face. “He called me son. Your dad.” Charlie softened, not knowing how much that would mean to him. “You’ve been a part of the family for a while now, baby. Now it’s just official.”

The next morning, the two took advantage of being back in the Outer Banks, visiting all their favorite spots from growing up. They woke up early to surf for a couple hours with the sunrise, then got breakfast with John B and Sarah afterward. Charlie and JJ then drove by the coast for a while, aimlessly. “Can we go by one more place?” JJ asked after a while. “Of course, what are you thinking?” JJ gave her a small, hopeful smile. “You’ll see.”

He drummed his fingers on the wheel as they drove closer to the Cut, toward his old house. “We don’t have to go here if you don’t want to, JJ -” Charlie started, but JJ shook his head, cutting her off. “No, no, I want to check it out.” He gave her an uneasy smile, forcing it. Charlie nodded, squeezing his arm gently but stayed quiet. She had heard most of the stories before and had pretty much made up her mind about JJ’s dad - no in-person meeting could change that.

He pulled up onto the gravel, taking a breath before turning the key and getting out. Charlie started toward the house, but JJ quickly grabbed her hand, pulling her back. “Can - can you just wait out here first, just for a second?” She nodded, biting her lip out of worry. “Of course. I’ll be right here.” JJ seemed to relax slightly and released her hand, then flipped his cap backward before heading inside.

“Dad?” He called out, tense. He walked through the house tentatively, listening, then relaxed more once he realized his dad wasn’t home. He surveyed the mess and shoved some trash (and a small white bag) into a drawer before heading back outside. “Charlie, c’mere.”

Charlie was hesitant, taking his hand again once she reached the porch. “He’s not here, but, uh, you can see my room, at least.” JJ offered. He was clearly embarrassed by the house and Charlie tried to conceal her surprise at the state of disarray, holding his hand a little tighter. JJ led her to his room and pushed open the door - then smiled.

His room had been untouched since he had moved out and into the Chateau with John B on his 18th birthday. It looked exactly like how an 18-year-old boy’s room would look - rumpled sheets, a few lewd posters on the walls, a spare history textbook used to prop up the uneven leg of the desk. Charlie rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t look too different from your freshman year dorm, I’d imagine.” JJ laughed, splaying his hand over one of the posters. “Pretty much.”

She took a tentative seat on the bed. “It’s not as bad as you were describing it to me. It’s...homey.” JJ scoffed, looking around. “No, homey is how I feel at your place. This is just fucking sad.” Charlie frowned, reaching out for him, and JJ waved her off. “I’m fine, just. Feels weird being back.”

Suddenly, there was a bang out front and the sound of splintering wood, like the door was just kicked in. Charlie jumped up from the bed, clinging to JJ. “What the -” JJ clapped his hand over her mouth and put a finger to his lips, shushing her.

A gruff voice rang out. “I have a gun! Better get the fuck out!”

Upon hearing the voice, JJ relaxed a bit and moved to walk out. Charlie gripped JJ’s bicep tighter, eyes wide and scared. “What the fuck are you doing!” She hissed, yanking him back. JJ shook her off, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “It’s fine, Charlie, it’s just my dad. And he’s a fuckin’ liar.” They could hear footsteps coming closer and Charlie’s heart rate quickened, tears welling in her eyes. “It might not be - JJ, please, we should hide.” She begged, stepping away from the door.

JJ walked out of his room, hands up. “Just me, Dad!” He called out. Once Luke Maybank saw him, he stopped dead in his tracks - no gun in hand, just as JJ expected. “Oh. JJ? Why the fuck are you here?” JJ let out a sad, short laugh. “Good to see you too, Dad.” Charlie peered out from around the corner, tentative, and Luke immediately spotted her, pointing. “You’re 25 and you’re still sneaking girls into the house?”

At JJ’s beckon forward, Charlie stepped out, standing slightly behind JJ. “He’s 24, actually,” she corrected before she could stop herself. “She’s got a smart mouth like you.” Luke pointed out, smirking. JJ grit his teeth. “Dad, this is Charlie. My girlfriend I told you about - well, actually, my fiancee.” He was still getting used to saying the word. Charlie took JJ’s hand, then took a small step forward. “Hi.”

Luke eyed the ring on her finger right away, skeptical. “Where’d you get the money for that rock?”

“It’s my grandmother’s.” Charlie responded before JJ could even open his mouth.

“Hm.” Luke hummed, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. Charlie stayed tense but JJ did the same, pulling out a chair for Charlie first. She hesitated, but he tugged on his hand gently to show her it was okay. “Where did you meet again?” Luke asked, feigning interest - though his eyes kept flicking back to check out Charlie’s ring. He kicked back in his chair, swinging his feet up onto the table. JJ ran his hand through his hair. “Well...in college. We’ve been dating since senior year, remember?”

“But I grew up here, we knew each other from high school before that.” Charlie added. Luke raised his eyebrows. “Oh? What’s your last name?” JJ squeezed her knee gently underneath the table. “It’s Walker, Dad.” Luke nodded in recognition, then laughed. “That touristy ice cream shop? Marrying into money, then.” He directed his gaze to Charlie, cracking a smile. “How’d he trick you into bothering with him?”

Charlie frowned, keeping her tone even. “He didn’t trick me into anything.”

Luke looked smug. “I’ve known him longer than you, kid, I know how he works.”

“You should be proud of JJ. He’s intelligent, and kind, and loyal as hell.” She paused, lifting her chin a little. “No thanks to you.” JJ set his jaw and nudged her knee under the table, a private sign to knock it off.

Luke leaned forward, both hands on the table. “Better watch your pretty little mouth in my house, girl.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” JJ quickly admonished, tensing.

“Am I invited?” Luke asked, a small smirk on his lips. JJ paused, trying to process. “To...to the wedding?” He glanced at Charlie, a mix of emotions displayed on his face. Charlie kept her hard resolve. “We only got engaged two weeks ago, we haven’t worked on a guest list.” She stood, trying to make it clear the conversation was over, and JJ followed suit reluctantly.

“You’re making a mistake sticking yourself with this lazy piece of shit.” Luke told her, gesturing toward JJ.

Charlie took a quick step toward Luke, ready to retort, and JJ wrapped his arms around her waist just as quickly, pulling her back toward his chest. “Don’t.” He murmured in her ear. She stayed tense in his arms.

Luke just laughed. “She’s feisty, huh?”

JJ kept his arms around Charlie, protective. “She’s loyal.”

Luke nodded, folding his hands behind his head. “How long are you around? Back home?” JJ fidgeted with the bill of his cap. “Just ‘til Monday. I gotta get back for work.” Luke made a small noise of acknowledgment and stood, pulling a beer from the fridge. “Well. You ought to come ‘round again before you leave, sounds like we need to catch up.” JJ managed a small smile, confused, but nodded anyway. “Yeah, if we have time.”

Charlie stepped out of his arms toward the door. “Well, uh, we have to go, but. I’ll see you around.” Luke popped the bottle cap off the beer and took a swig. “No one’s blocking you. Door’s open, kid.”

The tips of JJ’s ears turned red and he nodded, silently following Charlie through the door and out to the car. “JJ, I -” Charlie started, and he shook his head. “Let’s just go.” The two of them got in the car and he gripped the wheel hard as he drove away, jaw clenched. He flicked through the radio until he found a classic rock station and cranked the volume, foot pressing harder on the gas.

“I’m just gonna drive.” He told Charlie, eyes set firmly on the long road. She nodded, quiet, but was analyzing his every move, noticing the way his shoulders were tensed up to his ears and his knuckles were white against the steering wheel.

A few minutes later, it was like JJ had a lead foot against the pedal and the car climbed five, ten, fifteen miles over the speed limit. He stared out at the road but was unfocused, radio static in his ears. “J.” Charlie tried again, for the fourth time. She reached out, shaking his arm. “JJ!” He swerved slightly and glanced over at her, blinking, then finally registered her worried expression and slammed on the brakes, pulling over to the side of the road.

Charlie reached over and pushed the car into park as his foot stayed on the brake, then unbuckled and quickly got out. She opened the driver’s side door and reached over, unbuckling JJ’s seatbelt. “Out. I’ll drive.” He nodded numbly and stood, turning into her touch. Charlie looked worried and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, but nothing more.

“Get in and we’ll go home, hon.” He nodded again and did so, wordless. She started the car again, reaching to turn down the radio, but JJ reached for her hand, stopping her. She twisted her wrist to intertwine her fingers with his, resting their hands on the center console and holding his hand tight.

They stayed quiet as she drove toward her house - but after a glance toward JJ and seeing how hard he was blinking, Charlie turned away from the neighborhood and toward the beach. “You missed the turn.” JJ mumbled, holding tight to her hand. She nodded. “I know. I want to see the beach.” JJ sighed as she pulled toward a secluded lookout spot. “Charlie, I’m fine.”

Charlie shrugged, putting the car in park and turning the key. “I know. Come on, let’s go sit.” She got out and tugged on his hand, pulling him toward the beach and sitting down with him. After a beat, she scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. JJ leaned down into her, taking a deep breath. “I’m fine.” He repeated, shakily. He swiped the back of his hand across his cheek roughly, not allowing any tears to fall. She tightened her grip on him, letting him rest his head on her chest.

“It’s okay if you’re not, J.” She whispered, stroking his head. He mumbled something into her t-shirt, still for a moment, then slid his arms around her waist, clinging tight. Charlie frowned and pressed a kiss to his head. “Hm, hon?”

JJ lifted his head slightly. “You scared me.”

Charlie let out a short laugh, incredulous. “I scared you? He threatened a gun on you!”

JJ sat up a little but kept an arm around her waist, looking serious. “You can’t talk to him like that, Charlie. He’s unpredictable. He - he could have hurt you.”

Charlie frowned. “I can handle myself.”

JJ furrowed his brow, frustrated. “No, Charlie, I’m serious. You can’t talk to him like that - if he did something to you, I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“His words aren’t gonna hurt me.” She replied, stubborn. “If you go back, I’m going with you.” JJ sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get anything through to her in the moment. “Yeah. We’ll see.” Charlie set her jaw, lifting it toward him. “I’m not letting you go back alone, JJ. I don’t trust him.”

JJ gripped her chin gently, kissing her softly. “You’re too fucking stubborn.” She pulled out of his touch, frowning. “I just want you to be safe.” JJ nodded. “I know.” He glanced down at her phone as it chimed. “We gotta get back for your family thing soon, sweetheart.”

Still annoyed, Charlie stood, crossing her arms. “I’m mad at you, you know.” JJ held back a small laugh as he stood, nodding seriously. “I know. Think you can fake being in love for the engagement party?” He teased. Charlie rolled her eyes and tossed him the keys. “I still love you. I’m just mad.” JJ smiled and got in the car with her, kissing her cheek. “Good. Love you too, Walker.”

After the majority of her family left, Charlie dragged JJ upstairs by the hand to her room. She instantly flopped back onto the bed, kicking off her heels. “We survived!” She teased, tugged on his hand to pull him down next to her. “Do you think they liked me?” JJ asked, taking a tentative seat on the edge of the bed next to her.

At that moment her dad Mike walked past, pushing the door open. “They’ll like you better if you keep the door open, son.” Charlie rolled her eyes, turning her head to glance at him. “Dad. Might I remind you we’re 24? And engaged?” Mike just laughed. “And you’re under my roof, and JJ’s staying in the guest room tonight. Again.” JJ nodded quickly, running his hand through his hair. “Yes, sir.” Mike grinned, walking away. “Night, you two!” He called over his shoulder.

“Good night!” Charlie called back, then sat up to shut the door. JJ pushed her back down, grinning. “Did you not hear his rules?” Charlie smirked, lowering her voice. “I didn’t know you were into the idea of getting caught.” JJ laughed and stood, hands raised in surrender. “That’s it, I’m going to the guest room.”

“No, stay!” Charlie reached out, hooking her finger in his belt loop, and tugged. “You’re trouble, Walker.” He teased, but fell forward onto her anyway. She grinned, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tight. “Yeah, yeah, but you love trouble. Anyway, I think - no, I know that they loved you. They’ve all met you before, too, so it’s not like you had to make a grand first impression.”

He shifted to be on his side, facing her, and propped his head up on his elbow. “Yeah, but this was an extra big deal. First impression as your fiance.” Charlie nodded and kissed him, sound. “You did just fine, hon. I think my grandma would marry you herself if she was younger.” He laughed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “She was not happy about the last name deal. Mrs. Maybank.” He teased.

Charlie rolled her eyes. “It’s a totally antiquated belief, and I’m working -”

“Incredibly hard for your degrees, including your PhD, I know, I know.” JJ cut her off, finishing the speech he had heard quite a few times. “Just teasing you, Char.” She smiled, pleased. “Good.” JJ paused, like he was going to say something, then just sighed. Charlie frowned, picking up on it right away. “What’s up?”

He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up. “Um. I think I want to go see my dad again before we leave.”

“JJ…” Charlie sighed. “Why?”

He shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “Dunno. I’ve barely talked to him in six years.”

Charlie bit her lip. “There’s a reason for that, J, he’s an asshole.”

JJ started, then paused. “Well - I mean, yeah, but did you hear him when we left? He wants to come to the wedding? Maybe he’s trying to be better.”

Charlie frowned. “He’s had six years to try. I don’t know about this.” JJ set his jaw, frustrated. “Well I’m not asking, I’m telling you out of courtesy. And you’re not coming.” She raised her eyebrows. “You’re not going alone.”

He sat up, crossing his arms. “Yes I am.”

She did the same. “No, you’re not. I’ll drive you and sit in the car.”

He swung his legs off the edge of the bed, standing. “Fine.”

“Fine. Where are you going?” She questioned.

“I’m going to the guest room.” JJ replied, raising his eyebrows back at her. She rolled her eyes. “J, you don’t have to -” He waved it off, dismissing her. “It’s not because of this, it’s out of respect for your dad.”

Charlie softened, unable to argue with that. “Oh. Okay. Well...goodnight.” JJ offered a small smile and bent down, giving her a short kiss. “Goodnight. Love you, Charlie.” She smiled back, giving in. “Love you too, J.” He gave her a teasing salute as he walked out of the room.

The next day, they went back to JJ’s house around 6pm. Charlie drove, turning up the radio and humming along softly to their favorite songs, trying to ease JJ’s tension. As they pulled up on the drive, Charlie frowned seeing some broken glass bottles scattered around the yard. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go in?” JJ nodded firmly. “Stay here. Please. He won’t do anything.” Charlie bit her lip, nodding back. “Don’t be too long.” He gave a small, tense smile and a short kiss. “I’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

With that he got out, adjusting his hat as he walked up to the porch. The scene was all too familiar - empty beer cans scattered across the table, a medicine bottle with some pills strewn out on the glass. JJ nudged open the door and sighed when he saw Luke passed out on the couch, hand curled around an empty glass bottle that was cradled to his chest.

“God damnit, Dad.” He said aloud, kicking one of the beer cans across the floor. Luke stirred, stretching as he woke up. JJ cursed under his breath, not sure if he wanted him to wake or not. Luke cracked one eye open, shooting at glare at his son. “The fuck are you back here for?”

JJ flipped his hat backward, running his hand through his hair as he went. “You asked me to come back.” Luke scoffed. “Don’t know why I would have done that.” He leaned over, popping a cap off another beer and took a swig. “Your girl didn’t want to come back?” JJ shook his head, willing himself to not glance at her car outside. “I didn’t want her to have to see this piece of shit place again.” Luke sat up, gesturing at him with the beer bottle. “You should be grateful for this piece of shit, I raised you in it.”

JJ crossed his arms, jaw set. “Saying you raised me is an overstatement.”

“You gonna use some of that Walker family money to pay me back, then?” Luke stared him down from the couch. JJ scoffed. “Stolen bread and peanut butter from the store didn’t cost you shit, Dad.”

Luke stood, swaying a little, and met him at eye level as he took another long drink. “You think the fucking utilities were free, boy? The running water? The A/C?” JJ stood his ground, his fists curling. “We had that maybe half the year, and a fucking box fan in the middle of the summer doesn’t do shit.”

Luke shook his head. “Still cost money. You’re lucky I even gave you a place to stay.” He knocked back the rest of the beer and twirled the bottle in his hand. “Not sure how you even convinced that girl to stick around for long.” He grinned. “Just watch, she’ll leave too. They always do.” JJ swallowed, white-knuckled, but kept his fists by his side. “Fuck off, Dad, she loves me.”

The corner of Luke’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Just like your mother loved you and then left in the middle of the night, first chance she got?”

JJ took a deep breath to steady himself. If he was younger, his fist would have slammed into his dad’s cheek three insults ago - but he reminded himself he was better than that, too old to resort to injury. “She left because of you. We both know that.”

Luke shook his head. “We got the same blood, boy. What runs in me runs in you.”

“I’ll be a better husband and father than you ever were.” JJ shot back, chest puffed up and shoulders tall.

Luke smirked. “That’s what I told my dad too, kid. Now look. Full fuckin’ circle.”

JJ huffed in frustration, flipping his cap forward again and tugging down hard on the bill. “Fuck you.”

Charlie had been sitting in the car long enough, anxious, and got out of the car, against her better judgment. Quietly, she walked up to the house, frowning as she heard unrecognizable yelling - from Luke or JJ, she wasn’t sure. Inside, JJ and Luke kept going, flinging insults at each other, the tension rising as they got in each other’s face. Charlie pushed open the screen door, staying quiet - but the hinges creaked at just the wrong moment.

Luke hurled the glass bottle at the wall just behind Charlie’s head, making it shatter everywhere. She screamed, cowering, and JJ fisted the front of Luke’s shirt in his hand instantly. “What the fuck, Dad, she did nothing!” He roared, shoving him backward hard enough to land him on the floor.

He ran over to Charlie, who had a small trickle of blood trailing down her cheek from a shard of broken glass. “Fuck, Charlie, are you okay?” She nodded quickly in response, eyes wide, a little stunned. JJ scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the house hurriedly, not taking a second look back. He set her in the passenger seat, then looked around worriedly. “Keys, Charlie, I need the keys.” She bit down on her lip, hard, gesturing toward the porch. “Keys, Charlie.” He repeated, looking her over with concern.

“Dropped them. On the porch.” She got out, gingerly touching her fingers to her cheek. JJ cursed under his breath, nodding, and shut the door quickly. He jogged back up to the porch, glancing inside for a split second to see his dad still lying there on the floor. He hesitated just long enough to see his dad stir, no blood in sight, and grabbed the keys and ran back to the car.

His hands were shaking as he jammed the keys in the ignition, starting it up and driving away quickly. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. God - did he hurt you? Did it hit you?” He asked rapidly, glancing over at her. Charlie shook her head, pressing the heel of her hand to her cheek. “No. Um, just a small nick.” She paused before speaking again, her voice shaky. “I’m sorry, J.”

“What?! No, no, why are you sorry?” He reached over and took her free hand, pressing the back to his lips.

“You said not to come in, and I got scared, I thought he was hurting you.” She frowned, her voice small. “I can’t believe he talked to you like that.”

JJ sighed, softly. “That was hardly anything, honestly.” He bit the inside of his cheek as he drove back to her parent’s house, trying to focus more on her than the thoughts running through his head. Charlie blinked hard, trying not to let any tears fall. “That was harsh, J.” He gave her a sad smile. “Been through worse, sweetheart.” He pulled into her driveway, thankful her parents were out for the night.

They made it up the stairs and into her room, quiet, both not wanting to be the first to speak. “You’re sure the bottle didn’t hit your head?” JJ asked as he sat next to her on the bed, gently running his thumb over the small nick across her cheek. Charlie had her knees drawn up to her chest, closed off. “I’m sure.” He nodded, but kept a worried frown.

“I’m proud of you, J.” She murmured, taking his hand. He raised his eyebrows, confused. “For what?” She gave him a small smile, for the first time since leaving the house. “You stood up for yourself.” He shrugged, keeping his eyes trained on the comforter. “Yeah, well. Thanks.”

Charlie frowned and moved closer, pulling him into a tight hug. “You don’t have to see him again, JJ.”

“I just -” JJ’s face crumpled and his voice cracked. “I don’t know why he’s not proud of me.” Charlie held him tighter. “JJ…” He pulled her into his lap to hold her closer, then buried his face against her shoulder. “I graduated high school, and college, and I got out of the Outer Banks on my own, I…” he faltered, letting out a single sob. “I don’t know what else he wants from me, Charlie. Am I not good enough?”

“Oh, hon.” Charlie murmured. She nudged his chin up so he could meet her gaze. “You’re more than good enough, J. You’ve done all those things, but more importantly, you’re the best damn person I could ask for.” JJ pressed his forehead to hers, listening. “But I’m a mess.”

She shook her head. “No, you’re not. You’re responsible with your job, and hard-working and creative. You notice all the little things and you’re kind to just about everyone you meet.” He ducked his head away in embarrassment, not used to the praise. “Charlie.”

She continued, giving him a smile. “I can’t wait to be married to you and show you off even more, JJ. I’m so fucking proud of you.” He lifted his head and kissed her, hard. “I love you.”

“And how lucky am I to experience your love?” Charlie told him, nudging her nose against his. She caught his lips in a gentle kiss, threading her fingers through his hair. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry.” JJ told her with a small laugh, tears welling up in his eyes again. Charlie kissed him again. “Love you always, J, don’t forget it.” He nodded, kissing her back. “Love you always.”

#jj maybank #jj x charlie #mine #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank obx

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muertawrites · 4 years

Text

Two Halves - Chapter Three (Zuko x Reader)

Part Two

Word Count: 2,450

Author’s Note: Something very important to note about this series is that in it Zuko has very long hair. I’m talking like feudal era Japan hair (use this post from @frogydraws for reference. It is *chef’s kiss* gorgeous). Also, I feel like I’m missing people who asked to be on the tag list - if you asked but don’t see your name, PLEASE direct message me so I can fix that! Other than that I don’t have much else to say about this chapter. It’s mostly exposition but who doesn’t love some good plot speculation?

~ Muerta

Everyone gathers in a sitting room in Zuko’s personal wing of the palace, clustered in groups or pairs in an attempt to create some sense of comfort after the night’s discord. Katara, Aang, and Sokka gather in the center of the room - their typical formation, still very much a reflex due to years of working as a team. You sit with Iroh and Toph to one side of the room, Iroh sharing a chaise with you and Toph seated on the floor beside you, one hand laid protectively over the top of your foot. Zuko stands at the room’s fireplace, passing a ball of flame between his hands; you watch him closely, already innately drawn to him as your partner, noting that while the others (mainly Katara, Aang, and Sokka) discuss the evening’s events, attempting to formulate a plan for whatever should come next, he remains silent, secluded deep within his own thoughts. He looks every part the leader you’re now married to, in a way you hoped you’d only see much later in your relationship.

“It had to be someone within the palace,” Sokka states. “The gates were too heavily guarded for anyone to get in from the outside.”

“But how could they commit a murder without being seen?” Aang wonders. “There were too many people around for something like that to go unnoticed.”

“That’s just the thing,” Katara counters. “There were enough people to create a big enough distraction that nobody saw until whoever did it wanted us to.”

“And we’re absolutely positive it was that specific guy who was the target?” Sokka proposes. “It wasn’t just a random attack to make a statement against the whole government?”

“No,” Zuko chimes in. “They meant to kill him. When I proposed making someone from outside the Fire Nation queen, he was the only one in favor of the idea. He convinced the rest of the board to support me.”

“Do you think maybe they wanted to make a statement against just you, then?” Aang asks.

“It wasn’t just a statement,” you tell him, speaking for the first time since entering the room. Everyone turns their heads towards you; the only one who doesn’t show any surprise is Zuko. “It was a threat, meant for both of us.”

“And probably on behalf of Ozai or Azula,” Toph adds.

“Do you think he’d really still have followers within the palace?” Katara questions. “Everyone who served him was imprisoned after the war.”

“It’s possible,” Zuko responds. “My father radicalized more people than we could possibly know of. I expected his resistance at some point.”

“If Ozai intended to stage any resistance, he would have done it much more gruesomely,” Iroh interjects. “He wouldn’t have wasted time with threats. He would have killed one or both of you, if not everyone in attendance tonight.”

“But who else could hold that much of a grudge against not only the Fire Nation, but the alliance with an outsider?” Sokka asks.

“It could be someone from the Water Tribe,” you suggest. Your words are deadpanned and grim. “It’s very possible they see this as another form of colonization.”

“Nobody else from either tribe is here, though,” Katara says. “It’s just me and Sokka.”

“I don’t think they’d be here officially if they planned to kill someone,” Aang reasons. “If it was someone from the Water Tribe, they’re probably in disguise.”

“They couldn’t have been,” Sokka replies. “They’d have to have been inside the palace, and nobody got in without official documentation.”

“Our concern right now should not be the manhunt,” Iroh speaks up in his firm, tepid way. “It should be the safety of our loved ones; our lord and lady especially.”

“He’s right,” Toph agrees. She stands, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I think she should stay with me tonight. I have the best chance of seeing someone and stopping them before they can do any harm.”

“She’s staying with me,” Zuko quips.

The entire room falls into a heavy silence, the air itself seeming to drop to the floor. Everyone stares at Zuko in shock, yourself included.

“We’re married,” he explains. “It’s our responsibility to look after each other. She’ll stay with me in my chambers.”

Five sets of eyes shift to focus on you. You meet Zuko’s gaze, the steely determination within them only serving to remind you of the bond you now share. You nod, keeping your eyes locked with his as you speak.

“It’s okay,” you affirm. “I’ll stay with him.”

After a few more minutes of deliberation, everyone parts ways for the night - Sokka is sent with Katara and Aang to provide them extra defense, and Toph goes with you and Zuko, moved to the guest chamber just outside his sleeping quarters so she can monitor any movement that happens during the night.

You follow Zuko into his rooms, arms linked together in a mutual nervous embrace. His chambers are divided into three spaces; two rooms connected by a sitting room and a large, covered porch. Zuko leads you down a short hall off the right side of the sitting room, opening a set of doors to reveal an ornate bedroom - your things rest at the foot of the four poster bed, your sleeping clothes already laid out on the mattress.

“This used to be a sunroom,” Zuko tells you. “But I had it converted into a bedroom. I figured it would be weird sleeping together, but also weird keeping you in your own wing across the palace, so… this seemed like a good way to be close to each other without making it too awkward.”

You squeeze his arm in a gentle, appreciative hug, turning to look up at him.

“Thank you,” you say. “I really appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

Zuko nods, laying one of his hands over where yours rests on his bicep.

“Let’s get changed,” he murmurs. “I’ll call for some tea and we can try to have a normal night.”

He leaves you, and you draw the curtains of the room’s sweeping windows so you can dress in peace; one side overlooks a garden courtyard, while the other gives a view of the ocean beyond the palace’s farthest wall. The sights are stunning, but the suspense you feel building in the pit of your stomach makes it hard to enjoy them in full.

Your hands shake as you undress, letting the layers of your wedding robes drop to the floor and leave you naked at the foot of the bed. You stare down at your night dress, the pristine white fabric glaring virginally up at you. You warily slide yourself into it, then cross the room to the vanity that’s been set to the left of the bed.

You can hardly control the shiver of your fingers as they work the beads out of your hair, taking the freed locks behind your head into the single braid you typically sleep in. You stare at yourself in the mirror, clutching the totems Katara gave you to your chest; your eyes are wide, your cheeks sunken, your knuckles white. A small voice, somewhere in the far reaches of your mind where the sound can hardly carry, tells you to have faith in your new husband; he’s treated you with nothing but kindness since even before the moment you set foot on his soil, and has showed nothing but the utmost respect for you - he wouldn’t be the man your family loved and trusted with your life if he shifted his behavior in such a sudden, drastic way by forcing you into his bed.

Despite these cries of reason, all you can hear is the voice of the beautician who prepared you for tonight - she hovers behind you in the mirror, her face contorted into a heinous, scowling grin as she cackles with laughter. She reminds you of the children you’re meant to bear, her nails digging into your shoulders as she goes on to tell you that, as the Firelord’s wife, he’s entitled to all the pleasure your body can give him, and will take it at any cost.

Your terror turns the man who’s been so endlessly sweet to you into a monster.

Through the bedroom doors, you hear a servant enter with a tray of tea, followed by Zuko’s gentle voice thanking them. You swallow, taking the strands of beads in your hands and twining them together, forming a necklace which you place over your head and tuck into the front of your night dress. After a few deep, quivering breaths, you stand, making your way out to the shared sitting room.

Zuko sits on the side of the room closest to his bedroom, head turned towards the now lit fireplace and eyes lost within its glow, his gaze distant and glazed with worry; he snaps back to the present when he notices you enter, giving you a faint, slightly defeated smile. His military uniform has been replaced with a simple set of pajamas and a robe, his long hair free from its knot, now hanging loosely about his shoulders and down his chest; he’s even more handsome this way, his features contoured by the darkness of the room and the light of the fire. You feel a rush of lightheadedness as you lower yourself across from him, nervously returning his smile.

“Uncle took the liberty of preparing our tea,” Zuko greets you. His voice is soft and welcoming, tinged with a mirth that feels almost ironic given the circumstances. “He didn’t want to subject you to my awful cooking skills so early in the marriage.”

You huff amusedly, sharing a genuine smile with him as he serves you. You sip the scalding liquid slowly, letting it ease down your throat and warm you from the inside out; it relaxes you, the shaking in your limbs disappearing.

“I’m glad we have him,” you say. “I don’t think we’d know what to do with ourselves otherwise.”

Zuko chuckles, his grin causing a manic tremble to erupt in your chest.

“He’s definitely the romantic one in the family,” he agrees. “He hasn’t stopped talking about you since he met you. I think if he were forty years younger, he’d have married you before I could.”

You giggle, a timid blush coloring your cheeks.

“I never thought I’d be so popular among Fire Nation men,” you tease.

Zuko smiles, wistfully and exhaustedly, letting out a soft breath of laughter; you can tell the nights events anchor his thoughts.

“I’m sorry tonight ended the way it did,” he tells you. “I wanted your arrival to be a source of happiness for our people. Maybe I was too hopeful.”

You sigh heavily, running a finger along the brim of your teacup as he meets your eyes; you can tell he blames himself for what happened.

“A hundred years of hatred doesn’t end in a decade,” you console him. “It isn’t just here, either - many people in the Water Tribe feel just as divisive as people do here.”

You cautiously reach forward and take his hand, letting your thumb stroke over his knuckles. His fingers tighten around your palm, and you can feel every callous and scar that marks his alabaster skin.

“We have to stand together,” you say. “We have to show the world that we can overcome the past; that things are different now, for the better.”

Zuko nods, raising the back of your hand to his lips and pressing a light, tender kiss to the knuckle of your forefinger. He smiles faintly, letting his mouth linger on the bone for a long moment before placing your hand back where it was on his knee, still twined with his.

“I really did make the right choice in a queen,” he muses. Heat spreads across your skin, your lips curling up slightly at his endearing remark.

“It’s late,” Zuko says after a beat, letting his fingers slip away from yours. “We should both get some rest.”

He stands, leaning over you and placing a docile hand at the back of your head. Your heart leaps from your chest and into your throat, your fingers curling to grip the skirt of your night dress as anxiety rushes to your head. You deny every instinct you have that tells you to fend him off. If this is when he chooses to take you, you have no choice but to go willingly - you can’t form any rifts in a relationship that’s already somewhat fragile, especially when doing so would mean driving a wedge through the center of an already divided country.

Zuko lowers himself and rests his lips to your forehead, etching the phantom of a kiss just below your hairline; he parts almost as soon as he arrives, leaving you dazed and flustered in his wake.

“Sleep well,” he murmurs, offering his arm to help you to your feet. You accept it, feeling much smaller beside him than you did only hours before. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You each return to your respective bedrooms, your legs floating towards your bed of their own accord and dropping you backward onto the mattress. You stare up at the sheer, billowing canopy hung from the ceiling as the shivering in your limbs returns, your body completely unable to accommodate with what your mind can barely seem to process.

He didn’t force himself onto you. He didn’t violate the comfort between you simply for the sake of tradition and lineage. The extreme relief you feel is overwhelming, so much so that you think you might throw up or faint.

You fall asleep to the sound of the ocean beyond the palace walls, the danger that looms within them doing little to deter the peace that washes over you as you drift into a pleasant dream.

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#muerta's works #two halves #zuko #prince zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #zuko fanfic #zuko fanfiction #prince zuko fanfic #prince zuko fanfiction #atla fanfic #slow burn

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its-chelisey-stuff · 4 years

Text

‘Love and Redemption’ eps 51-59 (final thoughts)

I feel empty but I’m happy. I finished it, it’s over and it’s going to my top favorite dramas of this year. What a crazy, beautiful, painful but rewarding ride! Also, that’s a huge ass poster but it seemed appropiate for the final post and it’s just gorgeous.

This is a very long post, you’ve been warned lol

First thing first: WE GOT A HAPPY ENDING. I loved the story but I knew, going into it that it was a hell of angst fest and that held me back a bit, except that I learned that it ended happily, and hey, I’m down for those endings. What can I say? I don’t do sad endings, real life is already messed up enough. Also, my boy Sifeng remained from beginning to end, my favorite character in the drama AND enters my honorable list of favorite male leads in dramas I keep thinking about making a real post with that list, maybe soon

I love Xuanji a lot. I want to make that clear before saying what’s next. While I think that she was definitely a lot dumber and gullible that I’d liked her to be, I understood why she was acting the way she did. During eps 41-50 she didn’t know what Sifeng was doing the way that we as viewers did. She had no idea. Could she have figured it out if she’d tried? Yes, but also, she had a precedent of letting revenge and resentment get the best of her in another 9 lives... so it was not really that crazy that she tried to kill Sifeng. Did I wanted to slap some sense into her? Totally, but I think she was punished enough for doubting him. Not only because she learned the truth of all those past lives and that she always hurt Sifeng but because our male lead himself punished her by pushing her away and given her the cold shoulder once she found him. After two years, mind you.

I think that, if you add all that up, it’s actually a bit more than what she deserved. Poor girl. Also, she totally made up for it once Sifeng forgave her, my heart melted/broke while she cared for him before and after finding out he was dying yet again, because of her, because he saved her.

And then Xuanji made the biggest, most in your face declaration of love and devotion in the whole three realms, when she found out that she was in fact not only the God of War but also the Star of Mosha aka the most terrible and evil dude to ever exist (Dijun’s words not mine) and still opened the crystal lamp... Because only by doing that she could save Sifeng’s life. She basically said “fuck the 3 realms and their peace, if Sifeng’s dead then I don’t care for anything” even when she knew she’d become a man which is hilarious to me bc what the fuck censors?

So Sifeng was no longer on mortal danger but he lost Xuanji sort of since she was now a man lol and thus we never broke the cycle of “we must make Sifeng suffer throughout the whole show”. I can appreciate the consistency of it, even if it broke my heart to see him like that.

And then the drama turned into a BL drama. Which made me laugh for a good almost 4 episodes. I loved it, it’s true. I can’t deny watching Sifeng stare lovingly at a man while holding his hands and telling him “I won’t leave you” didn’t do things to my heart and that my fangirling personality was left unaffected. I do have trouble coming to an understanding of the censors and their mystical ways because they were just not watching the drama. Or maybe they were, since they cut the ep count from 70 to 59. I do wonder what else was in that part of the story we’ll never get to see. Probs more gay stuff and hey! how dare you deprive me of it, censors?

I’m so glad most side plots and problems were resolved before these last 9 episodes, because then we had all that time to focus on OTP achieving a well deserved happy ending while exploring BL options AND the whole “God of War/Star of Mosha are the same person” was finally explained. Which, wow, it was heavy and fucking Dijun, you really are the shittiest shit excuse of a God to ever shit-exist. What an asshole. I felt really bad Luohuo Jidu, to be betrayed and mutilated in that way by a person you cared for and trusted... that’s a terrible violation to suffer. Truly horrible. He didn’t deserved any of that, he was innocent and he wasn’t going to harm anyone or bring war to the heavens. And the ending they gave to Dijun is my one problem with this drama, the one thing that I hated. But tbh no ending would’ve ever felt satisfactory to me. In the end, Xuanji’s attitude, indifference, was the best position to take, since revenge and hate wouldn’t have done any good.

I did enjoy a bit Dijun’s breakdown when the Heavenly Emperor showed him what could’ve happened if he’d never meddled in the whole affair with his stupid motivation to “save and guard the 3 realms”. It was all caused by him... and as much as I hate to admit it, without him, there wouldn’t be a drama. Think about it, had he not created the God of War, Xuanji wouldn’t exist and Sifeng would’ve never fallen in love with her. Everything was Dijun’s fault, including the love story and I feel conflicted about it ngl hahaha.

Which brings me to the revelation that Sifeng was XiXuan while in Heaven, the son of the Heavenly Emperor, a prince of the Heavens and the gasp, the shock, the screams out of my mouth!! It made a lot of sense that only someone in a high position would fly right in the middle of a heavenly execution and say “You’re not dying today, I will make them send you to the mortal realm and go through 10 tribulations. And I’m going with you.” Like !!!!!! Sifeng was SOOOOO Sifeng even before being Sifeng. Which is the reason why even Luohuo Jidu fell for Sifeng ha!

This was just Sifeng being a sexy badass telling his bf/gf “You need me”

The whole thing while Sifeng was on hell or whatever it’s called, with the Star of Mosha, was totally a BL drama plot and I was loving it. What a way to truly love someone, Sifeng. No matter if she was a dude or a woman or public enemy number 1, he was loyal and supportive of Xuanji in whatever form. Of course no one could resist that level of adoration and ultimately, Sifeng’s fierce love is what saved his life at the end since Luohuo Jidu gave him half of his heart, which reminds me, Heavenly Emperor is really one bad father he barely showed any concern for a son he hadn’t seen in 1000 years and died like 10 times. Wtf? He was also not only a bad father, but also the worst Heavenly Emperor, since he did nothing to prevent any of the problems in the last thousand years!

That was sooo straight of you, drama ;)

I didn’t really understood how Xuanji and Luohuo Jidu got separated but since they already had an independent mind and personality of the other, I guess that was the key? Whatever, love conquers all, and always wins.

After all the big revelations and stopping the end of the world, Sifeng was also in a coma for like a year or who knows how long and poor Xuanji waited/cared for him patiently. To me, it feels safe to say she suffered as much as Sifeng did and loved as loyally as him. Their wedding and their wedding night was stuff out of a fairytale and ChengYi’s ost was the perfect song for it, I was soooooo happy and couldn’t stop smiling like a fool.

The scene with the party, demons and mortals united and celebrating like equals and getting drunk, with Sifeng following his wife around the place while carrying their baby on his arms and trying to get her to put down the wine hahaha was the perfect and a well deserved ending for them.

I like to think they ascended again after a long, happy mortal life, and were free to love and adore each other for eternity. Sifeng, Xuanji, yours was a crazy as f*ck ride, full of pain and tears, but I’m so glad you loved each other so deeply, against all odds, curses, lies and whatnot. Cheers to you and your happiest ending!

I don’t know if I want a season 2! On one hand, if it’s the same cast I’d just have to see it, no question about it, though it ended perfectly. And if it is another cast, why do a second season at all?

#love and redemption #cdrama #yu sifeng #chu xuanji #cheng yi #crystal yuan #yuan bingyan

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swimyghost · 3 years

Text

Snazz's Birthday Bash

TODAY IS @holyfandomsnazz 's birthday today! EVERYONE WISH THEM A HAPPY B-DAY!

@self-insert-nonsense @wickedhellagoodtime ARE HERE TOO!

The heat was getting to everyone. Even though the region was known for its cooler summers compared to the rest of the country, the wave of moist warmth was ruining the entire Roomies' day.

"Swimy," Snazz said, their blonde hair frazzled and covering their weary eyes, "did you pay the goddamn rent for the electric bill?"

"Unfortunately, until I get my ID, I'm still a minor in the eyes of the law," the recently made adult replied, pulling their blue hair away from their sweat covered brow, "so, no, I didn't pay the fucking electrical bill,"

"Well, couldn't you have gotten your ID earlier!?" Snazz shouted.

"I wasn't eighteen until three days ago, genius!" Swimy fired back.

Formerly lounging on the couch, the pair were now locked in a fierce glaring match with both of them looking like they were ready to fight each other.

"You're the adult here, why didn't you pay!?" Swimy yelled.

"Because I haven't been paid yet!"

"Neither have I!"

"Enough!"

A pink-haired figure stepped out into the living room with a tired, yet annoyed, look on their face. In her hand was a paper bag with the name 'SIN' scrawled on the forehead which was dotted with sweat stains. Their floral patterned shirt was just as ruffled as Swimy's hoodie and Snazz's gray shirt. Putting both hands on their hips, the eldest member of the roommates frowned at the duo.

"Do you want us to get another noise complaint?"

"No," Snazz grumbled, leaning back into the couch.

"But Dawn-" Swimy started.

"No buts!" Dawn interrupted, "it's already hard enough to find a four-bedroom apartment in our price range, I don't need you guys making it harder,"

Snazz raised their hand, "Technically my room is a former closet,"

Dawn turned their gaze away, clearly embarrassed, "It still counts,"

"Why can't we just ask your boy toy to help us out?" Swimy questioned.

"Karamatsu is just as much in a financial struggle as us and you know that," Dawn said with an even deeper frown.

"What's the point of a man if you can't even get him to pay your rent?" Snazz muttered.

All three went silent for a few moments before Dawn sighed, "I get my Patreon money at midnight. When is the latest we can pay?"

"The sixteenth," Swimy replied.

"And what day is it today?"

"The fourteenth,"

"Okay, so tomorrow I need to-"

"Oh shit really?" Snazz said, their eyes wide.

Both Swimy and Dawn blinked in confusion. "Is that a problem?" Dawn asked.

"No, no, it's not that," the blonde waved their hand nonchalantly, "I just... Well... It's my birthday tomorrow,"

"What?!" Swimy exclaimed, "I didn't know your birthday was in the same month as mine!"

"I- We're siblings how did you forget!?" Snazz said with their nose scrunched up.

"You know I'm bad with dates!"

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Dawn asked, ignoring Swimy's outburst.

"Hey, I forgot it myself," Snazz raised their hands defensively, "besides... It's not like we celebrated it much anyway,"

The oldest and youngest of the Roomie siblings glanced awkwardly at each other as an uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Several moments passed before Snazz stood up with a grunt. "I got commissions to finish. I'll pay the rent with that next time. Later,"

Dawn reached out to grab hold of their sibling, but they managed to dodge their grasp and entered their room swiftly, closing it with a soft thud. While the apartment was dead still, Dawn and Swimy rushed over to one another and began talking in hushed tones.

"How could you forgot Snazz's birthday!?" the pink-haired singer whispered angrily.

"You forgot it too, don't you try and deny it!" Swimy countered back in an equally low voice.

"Well... Did you get them a present?" Dawn asked anxiously.

"I forgot that Snazz's birthday was even this month, did you really think I'd get them a gift?!"

"Well, I don't have anything either!"

The two sighed, but their emotions were still running high. They had under twenty-four hours to purchase a gift for their sibling with the little amount of money all of them had, all while a desert-like heat filled the region in its unbearable cloud of misery.

"Alright, get your shoes on and try to get Sam out of their room," Dawn ordered, referencing their other sibling.

"What for?" Swimy asked, already reaching for their shoes near the old front door.

"Because we need to go out and get Snazz a gift before it's too late! They already probably think we're a bad sibling so we need to hurry and get something they like!" Dawn explained.

"Alright, alright, keep your voice down!" Swimy hissed, glancing over at Snazz's room.

Dawn nodded and began putting on her shoes while Swimy rushed over to the third oldest Roomie sibling. They grimaced at the yellowing paint on the walls as they swiftly knocked on the door.

"Sam. Sam! I know you're in there and we need you!" the blue-haired teen begged.

"...Go away," a muffled voice stated tiredly.

"Sam, we forgot about Snazz's birthday! All of us need to go find a gift for them!"

"...I'll search online for something. I'll Venmo you some money,"

"Ugh! Why won't you just come out!?"

"...Too hot. Too bright,"

"...That's fair,"

"What did they say?" Dawn asked, all ready to go. Swimy walked over to them with a huff.

"They said they'll look online for something," Swimy complained.

"Let me guess, it's too hot for them?" Dawn guessed.

"Bingo,"

"Well," the eldest sister sighed, "we don't have time to argue. We have a birthday to save!"

"Alright! Let's do it!"

---

"We're not going to be able to do it!"

Dawn looked down at the completely worn-out Swimy, watching as sweat rained down off their body onto the asphalt road as they were uncomfortably hunched over. Their blue hoodie was completely ruined hours earlier and had been tied around their waist in a desperate amount to stay cool, revealing a Mothman T-shirt underneath the read "Eat. Sleep. Lurk.".

"C'mon, one more store," Dawn said with exhaustion seeping into her voice. Her floral pattern blouse and her skirt were completely soaked in sweat and her skin was beet red. Still, determination held strong in her green eyes as she tried to pull her sibling up.

"No! No more stores! We've been into too many stores!" Swimy whined, resisting their sister's efforts.

"We need to find a birthday present!" Dawn argued.

"And I need to find a new therapist but you don't see me spending nearly four hours walking in unbearable heat to find one!" Swimy growled, motioning towards the setting sun, "besides, I think Snazz is starting to think our "double date" excuse is a little suspicious,"

Dawn sighed, "I know... But we need to prove we care about them. Just one gift will be enough,"

Swimy's eyes darted to the side, "I care too... But don't you think that maybe I caused Snazz's forgetfulness? That I'm the one to blame?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean," Swimy looked uncomfortable, "I was the youngest and born literally four days before their birthday. Snazz's birthday has always been overshadowed by me, the "baby" of the family,"

"Swimy-"

"What if... What if I'm the reason Snazz forgot? That I've been a terrible sibling this whole time and I've been blissfully unaware? That I've been able to happily celebrate my birth while they've been forgotten,"

Dawn, nothing tears welling up in their eyes, pulled Swimy close, "Don't talk like that. I doubt Snazz blames you for your birthday or the fact we never celebrated theirs as much as kids. If anything, they should blame Mom and Dad for that. You have nothing to do with this,"

"But... We if they do blame me?"

"Then we have to show Snazz the perfect gift!" Dawn gave her young sibling a tight squeeze, "What do you say? One more store?"

"...Yeah, one more," Swimy looked up concerned, "but how are we going to find one that-"

Suddenly, Swimy's phone went off with a loud buzz. Startled, the pair broke apart while Swimy awkwardly fumbled around with it. There was a single text sent by Sam:

I'm making a pie. I also found something Snazz will most definitely like.

Attached was an address to a nearby store. Sin blinked in surprise after she looked it up.

"It's a weird occult and true crime store. What does this have to do with a birthday present?"

"Who cares!?" Swimy proclaimed with a big grin, "we have a lead! And you said we needed to look in one more store!"

Dawn, still looking unconvinced, simply nodded, "If you say so,"

With that, the pair took off, ignoring the shouts and glares of passerby's. Dawn and Swimy managed to weave their way through tight alleys and crowds with ease with their newfound energy. It wasn't long before the two were situated outside a dark-colored store with black tinted windows. Crystals and occult symbols were carefully hung visibly through the glass. While Swimy appeared eager, Dawn seemed less than sure.

"You okay?" Swimy asked.

"Yeah just... It's creepy," Dawn shivered.

"...I'm married to Death's ferrywoman, Dawn," Swimy lifted their hand, showing off their black and silver wedding ring.

"That's different!"

"It really isn't,"

"Fuck off!" the pink-haired girl shoved Swimy into the store.

Inside was surprisingly bright which went against the darkness of the clothes, books, and crystals. The wood made a hollow thud with every step. Shelves were spaced in rows that carried various occult items. Walls were lined by clothes and posters containing demons or hard-core metal bands to-

"Is that Al Capone?" Dawn pointed at a poster.

"Yeah... And that's Haurkichi Yamaguchi," Swimy motioned to another poster, referencing the creator and former head of the Yamaguchi-gumi yakuza organization.

"Ahem,"

The Roomies siblings turned and, across the store, was a teenaged Japanese cashier. She had a combination of boredom and exasperation as she parted her black hair from her eyes. "Welcome to Crimes and the Concealed, a true crime and occult experience where there is something for everyone," she waved her hands less than amused for a supposed to be dramatic effect.

"Uh... Thanks," Dawn replied, nudging Swimy forward.

"If you buy one poster, the other is 15% off,"

"Thank you! But we're looking for something else!" Dawn hastily shoved Swimy into the back of the store, away from the prying eyes of the cashier, who seemed equally glad not to deal with them.

"That was rude," Swimy glared

"Sorry! This whole shop gives me the creeps," Dawn whined.

"I'm never taking you on a double date to the Underworld," Swimy muttered, blissfully unaware of the sound of the store door opening.

The siblings went looking for something buy, pouring over the many candles and strange objects as the setting sun remained a looming reminder of their limited time. After looking at the fifteenth crystal necklace, Dawn was about to give up when Swimy let out a gasp. Dawn instantly turned and was stunned to see what was hanging in the corner of the store.

Body pillows. Over a dozen body pillows of famous gangsters and criminals from Billy the Kid to Calogero Vizzini to Pablo Escobar, the rather morbid idea of placing known men that went outside the law for their evil deeds in alluring poses made the two shiver. But the one that caught their eye was the lone female in the mix. Long lavender hair matched her dazzling amber eyes. She donned a pirate outfit with a black corset that complimented her figure. Black boots with gold accents that reached to her knees, similar to how her all-knowing smirk reached across her face.

Dawn reached out and touched the pillow, "That's... Snazz's girlfr-"

"MY WAIFU!"

Suddenly, two large men shoved past the Roomie siblings. One had thick-rimmed and lens glasses with a greasy ponytail and sweat and grease-stained shirt that showed a bunch of underage anime girls in tight clothing and the other looked similar but had shorter black hair with glasses that blocked out his eyes and was slightly skinnier than his friend but still wore questionable attire.

"Oh my dear waifu, how I've looked for you for so long!" the ponytail man wailed, almost crying on the pillow.

"Hey! We had our hand on it first!" Swimy said, shoving past their older sister and glaring at the men.

"Eh!? What would two normies want with this?!" the smaller of the two gasped, his green jacket fluttering with the sudden movement showing that he had two anime girls sitting on their knees with one only wearing an open suit and fedora and the other an Italian suit with a cigar in her mouth.

"Did you use normies unironically?" Swimy muttered with disgust.

"You two don't get it clearly!" the larger man snorted, "If you were real fans of Chibi Wakai Gyangu No On'nanoko, you'd understand how rare this pillow this is!"

"Chibi Young Gangster Girls?" Dawn repeated the title, confused.

Both men turned their attention to Dawn. The ponytail man spoke first, "It's an anime where all the famous gangsters are turned into cute little girls! But the modern-day pirate mob boss can't be added because she keeps targeting the animation studio anytime they try!"

"I wonder why?" Swimy rolled their eyes.

"Quiet pipsqueak!" The jacketed man yelled.

"Easy, Kurai," the larger man leaned into Swimy's personal space, "those this one look like Al Capone-chan?"

Kurai blinked then let out a small smile, "She does, Terro! All she has to do is change her hair and-"

"It's 'they' and you stay away from my sibling!" Dawn shouted, pulling Swimy behind them.

"Shut up, pinkie! You have no right to judge since you're cosplaying that Sin idol!" Terro shouted.

"Their boobs are clearly fake! They're such a fake cosplayer she can't even get her most noticeable features!" Kurai pointed out.

Dawn gasped and wrapped her arms around her chest. Swimy leaped forward and practically hissed at the two, "We're taking that pillow and you're going to leave us alone, or else!"

Terro sneered, "Or else what?"

With the snap of their fingers, a bright blue beam of blue particles swirled around Terro's head. He tried to swat them away, but the blue solidified and turned into a dense water bubble around his head that spun like a cyclone. He tried to scream but inhaled a bunch of water instead. Kurai immediately went on the defense and tried the grab hold of Swimy. Dawn, realizing that talking wouldn't be successful here, stepped aside as Swimy leaped backward and willed her hand into a fiery blaze. With a primal scream, she slapped him full force, sending both him and his glasses flying in opposite directions. A bright red handprint was left on his face. A sudden gasp alerted the siblings that the water bubble had burst. Before they could react, Terro was on top of Swimy and trying to hold them down.

"You crazy bitch!" He screamed, trying to land a hit on the smaller person.

Swimy used their free leg to deliver a swift kick to the stomach before headbutting him off them. He groaned in pain and rolled onto his side. Dawn took this opportunity to light her foot ablaze and slam it down right onto his crotch. He howled in pain as his pants and his manhood were burned by the attack.

"Get the Hell out of here before we do worse!" Dawn ordered, readying their fists with Swimy following close behind.

Whimpering, the two took off running, leaving behind Kurai's set of glasses and several clothes that had fallen during the scuffle. Tired, Swimy grabbed hold of the body pillow and trudged towards the register. The cashier trembled as they set it down.

"W-Will that be all?" she stuttered.

"Yeah," Swimy replied bluntly.

The cashier nodded and quickly rung up the pillow. She practically shoved the item into Swimy's arms and nearly dove under the counter. Dawn rested a weary hand on Swimy and sighed.

"C'mon, let's get out of here before the cops arrive. We have a birthday to save,"

---

All Snazz wanted to do was sleep. Not only had they remembered that their birthday was a thing but they had spent the whole night trying to finish commissions in an attempt to forget it again. Even though their body was worn out, their mind was rushing with memories of all the birthdays that were forgotten of the years.

It's like they never cared Snazz thought.

They rolled onto their side for the hundredth time that night, trying to force sleep to come. What they didn't expect was their door to suddenly slam open and a large weight crashing onto their side.

"Oof! What the fuck-!"

"Wake up, sleepyhead! Time to have the best day you've ever had!"

"...Swimy?" Snazz looked up, seeing the smiling face of their youngest sibling looking down on them. They had thick eyebags that hung from under their eyes that balanced out their high amounts of enthusiasm radiating off them.

"Do you know another blue-haired bitch that's related to you? Now come on before I drag you out!" Swimy exclaimed, pulling on Snazz's shirt sleeve.

"I'm still I'm my pajamas and I haven't even showered!" Snazz argued, trying to resist their pulling.

"You also haven't cleaned your room in two weeks but you aren't worried about that!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck yourself!"

With the help of both their powers and natural strength, Swimy managed to help drag Snazz out of their bed and made them cover their eyes.

"This is stupid," Snazz grumbled.

"You're stupid but I love you anyway. To the kitchen!" Swimy shoved Snazz forward.

After several near attempts of Snazz crashing into a wall and one toe snubbing, they made it to the kitchen with Snazz less than amused.

"This better be good,"

"It is! Now... Open!"

Snazz did so and gasped. Not only was their favorite pie, chocolate coconut perfectly sat on their rickety table, but a large wrapped present was sitting beside it. Snazz and Sam, wearing their infamous multi-colored gradient mask, stood there with birthday poppers and wide grins.

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SNAZZ!" all three siblings shouted, pulling the poppers and sending cheap confetti everywhere. Instead of being excited, Snazz stood there motionless with a blank expression. After a brief pause, Sam leaned over and whispered into Swimy's ear.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Swimy whispered back.

"Swimy," Sin said sternly.

"I didn't! Honest!"

Sam crossed their arms, "Well why are they-"

Wails exploded from Snazz as fat tears ran down their face. Immediately, all of their siblings rushed over and began to comfort them.

"Is it the pie? Is the pie not good enough?" Swimy asked nervously.

"I made that fucker by hand! It's perfect!" Sam yelled.

"Well if I have to be blamed for something so do you!" Swimy yelled back.

"Was it the poppers? God, I knew they were a bad idea!" Dawn nearly pulled their hair due to stress.

"You wanna go?" Sam snarled.

"Yeah, let's go!" their blue-haired sibling smirked, readying their fists.

Snazz grabbed all three of them and pulled them into a tight hug pile on the floor. Still crying, they managed to choke out a few words.

"I-I'm so happy! Y-You did a-all of this fo-for me!"

"Of course we did! We love you Snazz!" Dawn said, flinching as Snazz began to cry harder.

"C'mon, open the gift!" Swimy said, pulling the present down to the group.

Snazz didn't hesitant into tearing it open. They gasped in shock when they saw what it was.

"Is this my girlfriend? On a... Body pillow?"

"Don't ask how we got her," Dawn butted in.

"I-"

"Don't. Ask."

"I- Alright. Thank you. It's a lovely gift," Snazz said, setting it aside.

"Let's eat the damn pie already. I spent all night working on it so let's put it to good use," Sam said, standing up.

"I'll get the plates!" Sin called over her shoulder.

"Lemme get the forks and knives!" Swimy started to rush over to the drawers.

While the three started to gather everything for their meal, Snazz watched them fondly. They grabbed ahold of their new gift and squeezed it tightly.

Whatever being rules this hell of a universe... Thank you for my siblings... And thank you for this birthday.

#happy birthday snazz!#tw assualt #hope you like it

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incorrecthpjo · 4 years

Text

So @of-stars-and-moon and @shohina10 encouraged me on posting this, I should thank them. I tried writing kinda angsty wolfstar one shot that takes place in the first wizarding war, i hope you'll like it!! English is not my first language so there might be a few mistakes, i hope you won't mind them.

"Prongs, mate, I'm kinda bored, how about trying something new?" offered Sirius, while playing with the promise ring on his hand, given by Remus. Remus had given it to Sirius a few months ago, three days after that day, it was going to be the sixth month anniversary. They weren't ready for a real marriage yet, because they were only nineteen and even though James and Lily were thinking they were qualified for a marriage, well they were James and Lily and didn't have the problems like Sirius and Remus. Still, there was a war going on and they didn't know what the other day was waiting for them. They had a risk of losing each other any minute. So they thought a promise ring would be good, it wouldn't be a real engagement and also it would be a thing they can keep forever.

"Something new like what, mate?" asked James, excited about what Sirius was about to say.

"We can go to the future, Prongs!" Sirius was yelling excitedly. They had used their magical powers in the most extraordinary ways, such as becoming an animagus in a very young age or making a map of Hogwarts that even the best wizards of the world wouldn't be able to even imagine. Going to the future would be hard, but not impossible for James and Sirius.

"Mate, this is a great idea!" James ruffled his hair like he did whenever he was thinking so hard. "Will Remus come with us?"

"I don't think so, Prongs. He is on one of those 'missions' again and no one knows when will he come back." Sirius had a obvious change in his mood and James knew why. Sirius was having panic attacks about his relationship with Remus for weeks. Remus was going to the Order missions, but it was hard to believe because the "missions" were so long and he didn't have any reasons to not tell his friends why he was missing for all those days. Except for three things: he could be cheating on Sirius or he could be an agent. Or both at the same time.

"Okay, Pads, we'll go together. After all, you and I, Prongs and Padfoot, are the strongest couple in the whole Wizarding World!" James had a big smile on his face to cheer Sirius up. He was smirking, the last time he had smiled like this was when Lily finally accepted going on a date with him.

"Yes we are the strongest couple mate!" It was like Sirius almost forgot what was upsetting him. Even James' smile could do this.

"You know, if we were married, nothing could stay in our way."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah bro! You are right. I'm so in love with you, I wish we were married!" said Sirius, jokingly.

"Pads, I love you." said James in a very dramatic tone, hand on his heart like he just made wedding vows or something really cute happened.

"Prongs tell Lily that she's your second wife because I definitely am your first and only love!" Sirius was still laughing, only James could make him laugh this much. Even Remus wasn't able to do that.

They talked about how to go to the future, and they finally decided on turning a time-turner to the oppeside way. Every turn was going to take them a year further, so they were going to turn it ten times. They were going to be twenty nine, well, Sirius would be thirty but he didn't want to accept the fact he would get old. Well, twenty nine was young but thirty was old, right?

Two days later, they were ready to go. They wore the time turner and after ten turns, they were in 1989.

They looked around a bit, Godric's Hollow was looking kind of the same, only a few houses were renovated, and a few stores' glasses were full of new posters but that wasn't so surprising. It had been 10 years after all, some things should have been changed.

There was also a statue of a man and a woman, it had so many flowers around it but James and Sirius didn't look very carefully. If they did, they would see James and Lily, not so aged, hiding a life they couldn't live in their smiles, holding their son in their arms.

"Let's go to Remus' and my house! I'm excited to see there!" Sirius' excitement was very obvious from his voice, he was using the tone he used planning all those pranks. Sirius held James by his wrist and started running, preventing James from offering to see his own home first, stopping a great madness that would come from learning you had died before even turning twenty two and now your son is living with his aunt and not with you as you imagined.

Sirius finally stopped when they arrived to Sirius and Remus' house, or the house once belonged to them. The garden was full of cute flowers, there was a doghouse but no dogs in sight, all the curtains were closed even though it was a sunny morning.

Something was wrong. Even though it seemed normal, Sirius felt it before entering the house. It was not like them to keep the curtains closed, specially in a sunny day, just like how his own family did in Grimmauld Place 12. And it was not like them to not having a dog, they were already the fathers of three dogs.

Sirius gave James a look, James knew what it meant because he was thinking about the exact same thing.

"Alohomora!" Sirius pointed his wand at the door and opened the door. It was his own house, he had every right to open the door whenever he wanted.

Sirius' leather jacket he was wearing right now was still on the coat hanger, right next to a cardigan that Sirius assumed belonged to Remus.

"Damn, didn't I get a new jacket? I mean I love this baby," Sirius pointed at it, "But I should get new clothes, mate."

"Yeah mate, I'm sure it stinks," said James, jokingly.

"No!" said Sirius, angrily and frowningly. But he knew James was joking.

There were some noises coming from somewhere, noises of two men singing along to a song was playing on the radio, the song sounded like rock, Sirius felt proud of his future-self.

Remus' voice was still lovely, often interrupted by cute giggles and little moanings. But Sirius' voice - didn't sound like Sirius. At all.

"Dude, what happened to your voice?" asked James.

"I don't know but I will pull off my vocal cords and turn them into guitar strings."

They got what was going on and what happened to Sirius' voice when they entered the kitchen. Sirius' voice sounded awful because it wasn't Sirius' voice. It was someone else's voice.

Someone else who was giving Remus little kisses on his neck while hugging him and doing things only Sirius did to him. Someone else who was interrupting Remus while he was making pancakes. Someone else who was singing songs with Remus. Remus wasn't resisting. Why wasn't he resisting? He was even making sounds that shows he's enjoying this situation. Sirius' painting he did last week, well last week and 10 years ago, he corrected himself, was still hanging on the wall and Remus was still wearing the promise ring, probably meant Sirius was still living in this house. His clothes were still around the house, and Remus brought somebody else to their home? To cheat on Sirius?

How could Remus do to Sirius? How could he do this to them? Sirius felt like all of his trust and love towards Remus were slipping out of his hand, leaving Sirius all empty.

"Where the hell am I? Do I know what the hell is going on in this house? What happened to us Remus!?" Sirius shook head, trying to get rid of the useless thoughts. He glanced at James, who was looking at him from the second they saw Remus.

"Mate-" James tried to talk but Sirius interrupted him.

"What the fuck happened here, Prongs!? Where the hell am I!? Why is Remus cheating on me with that ugly, disgusting, frog voiced bastard!?" Sirius was yelling, shaking from anger and jealousy but the song was so loud, Remus didn't even hear Sirius yelling.

"I don't know, Pads, let's just go back to our own time. This was a bad idea anyway." It was one of the rare moments even James didn't know what to say.

"Ye-yeah... Our own time. We shouldn't have traveled..."

James did all of the time-turning thing while Sirius tried not to fall apart and have a breakdown.

Sirius already had trust issues which held him from trusting and loving people easily, now that he found out Remus has the potential to cheat on him, he had absolutely no trust.

"Prongs, if he did that to me, there's no guarantee that he won't sell you and Lily to Voldemort. We must change the Secret Keeper and we can't tell the new Secret Keeper to Remus."

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yikeswtfmate · 4 years

Text

(8) New Messages from Love of My Life

previous part // (1) New Message Masterlist // main masterlist

Summary: Y/N can’t sleep so she sends Bucky a text in the middle of the night.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Social Media AU or how I’m lying to myself 8 parts later)

Warnings: swearing and that should be it?

A/N: here it is my lovelies...probably the last part in this series. I’ve had so much fun writing it but it feels like this might be the end. I hope you laughed at the dumbassery and enjoyed it as much as I did! Thank you so much for all the love you’ve given this series, it means so much to me!

Love of My Life (03:13) Are you sleeping?

Light of My Universe (03:13) Yes

Love of My Life (03:13) Liar

Light of My Universe (03:14) Why are you awake baby?

Love of My Life (03:14) Because you ABANDONED me HERE

Love of My Life (03:14) All by MYSELF

Love of My Life (03:14) Expecting me to sleep alone in this huge bed after all this time of sharing it with you?????

Light of My Universe (03:15) I didn’t know you’re afraid of the dark

Love of My Life (03:15) I’m not.

Love of My Life (03:15) Do not disrespect me in this way, Barnes

Light of My Universe (03:16) Uh huh

Light of My Universe (03:16) Then why can’t you sleep by yourself?

Love of My Life (03:17) Cuz I miss you

Light of My Universe (03:17) You do realise that it’s just for tonight right?

Love of My Life (03:18) How is that going to change the fact that you’re not here TONIGHT?

Love of My Life (03:18) I never ever EVER want to sleep without you EVER again

Light of My Universe (03:19) Well you won’t have to

Light of My Universe (03:19) Unless you decide to call everything off

Love of My Life (03:20) NEVER

Love of My Life (03:20) I LOVE YOU SOOOOO MUCH

Light of My Universe (03:21) I love you too baby

Light of My Universe (03:21) But I really hope you’re not still drunk after your little sleepover with the girls

Light of My Universe (03:21) Bc it’s 3 in the morning

Light of My Universe (03:22) And we’re getting married in less than 12 hours

Love of My Life (03:23) I still can’t believe it

Light of My Universe (03:23) Well…YOU SAID YES

Light of My Universe (03:23) Can’t take it back now

Light of My Universe (03:24) NO TAKE BACKSIES

Light of My Life (03:24) Did you just

Light of My Life (03:24) Did you just pull one of my moves on ME

Light of My Life (03:24)

Light of My Universe (03:25)

Light of My Life (03:25) Is that…………STEVE?????

Light of My Universe (03:26) And you thought there’s nothing else I could surprise you with

Light of My Life (03:26) Can we have this printed on a huge poster and hang it at the reception?

Light of My Universe (03:26) I actually had badges made for all the guests at his wedding

Light of My Universe (03:27) We’re gonna get them by post in about two weeks

Light of My Life (03:27) I love you so much

Light of My Life (03:27) Does Peggy know about this?

Light of My Universe (03:28) She came up with the idea

Light of My Life (03:28) I’m now more excited about their wedding than ours

Light of My Universe (03:28) Are you not excited to get married to this then?

Light of My Universe (03:29)

Light of My Life (03:29) … why must you know that i have (1) weakness

Light of My Life (03:29) You’re killing me

Light of My Life (03:30) Why are you SO CUTE

Light of My Life (03:30) ILOVEYOUSOMUCH I CAN’T WAIT TO BE YOUR WIFE

Light of My Universe (03:31) I love you more than this entire universe

Light of My Universe (03:31) Now go to sleep or Sam will take my phone

Light of My Life (03:32) Wait you’re still out?????

Light of My Universe (03:32) Yeah we’re just around our block, going to Mcdonald’s now

Light of My Life (03:33) ……………yeah fuck this whole not seeing each other before the wedding shit

Light of My Life (03:40) Nat and I are waiting for Wanda to find her phone, we’ll be there in 10

Light of My Universe (03:40) I knew you couldn’t resist seeing me when I’m so close

Light of My Life (03:40) Don’t get your hopes up, I just want a double cheeseburger

Light of My Universe (03:41) Sam says he still wins the bet

Light of My Life (03:41) First of all, DOUBLE CHEESEBURGER

Light of My Life (03:42) Second of all, fine, he was right

Light of My Life (03:42) I should have known I wouldn’t be able to stick with it & would want to see you tonight

Light of My Life (03:43) Now that this shitty rule is broken, will you come home with me afterwards?

Light of My Universe (03:43) What about Nat and Wanda?

Light of My Life (03:43) They complained about the sofa anyway, they can go home

Light of My Universe (03:44)

Light of My Universe (03:44) I need it in writing please

Light of My Life (03:44) ……

Light of My Life (03:44) Dearly beloved, would you do me the honour of coming back to our apartment tonight, now that I have admitted that we shouldn’t have slept separately the night before our wedding because I miss you and it’s a stupid tradition anyway?

Light of My Universe (03:45) Sure babe

Light of My Life (03:45)

Light of My Universe (03:45) But you’ll be doing the dishes for a month

Light of My Life (03:45) I’m sorry what

Light of My Universe (03:46) Those were the terms of your deal with Sam

Light of My Life (03:36) boi

Light of My Universe (03:47) Stop chewing on the string of my hoodie

Light of My Universe (03:47) I can see you through the window you ass

Light of My Universe (03:37) Well that’s not nice

Light of My Universe (03:47) PEOPLE CAN SEE YOU

Light of My Universe (03:47) STOP

Light of My Universe (03:48) You’re going to trip if you won’t stop that

Light of My Universe (03:48) Told you

Light of My Universe (03:48) I can’t believe I’m getting married to such a dork

Mrs Barnes (13:53) NO TAKE BACKSIES

Mrs Barnes (13:54) TOO LATE NOW BONKY

***

Taglist:

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes social media au #bucky barnes social media #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes

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pynkhues · 4 years

Note

can i in like, a very chill, no pressure kinda way ask about when you think you'll update any fics? all the bts talk that you do (im embarrassed to say how often i check your 'my fic' tag) had me super excited about all fics you're working on!!!

Hi! Thank you! You’re totally making me blush, haha, and it’s no pressure at all. It’s always so nice to hear people want to read my writing! :-) I have four things at the moment which are literally so close to being finished it’s ridiculous, but I keep bouncing between them, so they’re all just inching forwards instead of actually, y’know. Getting done, haha. Those are Two Shoes (S3! Beth and Rio do some undercover dancing!), Blue Moon (my very late prompt-a-thon fill about Ruby), Stupid Cupid (C&C Valentines fic) annnnd the first chapter of What the Sea Wants, the Sea Will Have aka the pirate!AU.

Slightly less close (but also close!) are the last parts of Cross Your Fingers and the second part of See You in the Light.

I’m hoping to get one or two of these up over the next few days? But I feel like I’ve been saying that for a couple of weeks at this point, haha, so yes. Something will be up soon, but I’m just not quite sure how soon ‘soon’ is unfortunately.

In the mean time, if you like, you can have the first scene of the pirate!AU?

(It’s p long, so I’ve popped it behind a cut :-) )

Lady Elizabeth Boland is of half a mind to retire to her chambers, despite the early hour, when she notices her grandmother’s vase is missing from the buffet in the receiving hall.

It’s enough to make her pause, tilt her head to the side, her hand dropping to her waist as she walks towards the thing, letting her gaze cover every conspicuous inch of it. She takes in the lace runner and the baluster brass candle sticks, the curved crystal regulator clock and the pink glass oil lamp bottle, but alas.

Not so much as a fractured shard of her grandmother’s vase.

“Benjamin,” she calls, her eyes fixed still on the buffet, willing any annoyance away. She really shouldn’t distract her sweet nephew from his studies, but the fact of the matter is that this is not an isolated incident.

Two weeks ago, it had been her grandfather’s cufflinks she’d intended for Kenneth, disappeared from her jewellery box, and then only the other evening it had been the cradle gifted to her upon the birth of her first daughter from an associate of her lord husband’s. The latter, she hoped at least, would not be missed, for with four children already tucked upstairs in their beds, Beth prayed nightly her anticipating days were over.

“Benja - - !”

A blond head pops out over the bannister above her, and Beth jumps only briefly, dropping her hand to her chest.

“Oh, there you are! You startled me!”

“Sorry, Aunt Beth,” he hums, looking curiously down at her from the second floor. He’s still dressed in his smart little suit from school – a pressed, blue slack with a woollen vest, his brogues neatly polished and sticking out to overhang her through the bannister rails. “Are you okay?”

Making a small noise of affirmation, Beth gestures with her free hand to the buffet in front of her, hoping Benjamin can see well enough from above.

“Your great grandmother’s vase is gone. You wouldn’t happen to know if Kenneth or Daniel had anything to do with it, would you?”

“Are you asking me to inform on my cousins, aunty?” Benjamin asks with a grin, and Beth can’t help but smile back, trying to school her look into something a little more innocent.

“Never. I’m simply asking my favourite nephew a question.”

“I’m your only nephew,” he replies wryly, before shrugging up above her. “Besides, if they did, they probably deserve to get away with it. I hadn’t seen either of them before supper. Kenneth was out at Lord Milson’s until then, and Daniel and Miss Emma were practicing the duet they’re performing at your lord husband’s salon next month. I could hear them the whole while, even through the wall.”

Beth turns the thought over in her head. Jane hadn’t been out of her sight the entire afternoon either, so it couldn’t have been her youngest. She bites the inside of her cheek, training her ear just enough she hears the cook maid packing away the crockery in the kitchen, the clip of trotting horses and the gristly roll of carriage wheels on the road outside of here, but no other footsteps above her, nor any hint that her children lay awake and conspiring. She drops her hands to her hips, glancing back up at Benjamin above her.

“Is your mother home?”

He shakes his head no.

“She went out with Mr. Brown a few hours ago. She said they had to pick something up.”

And right, Beth thinks, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She knows exactly what that means. As if her sister hadn’t disgraced the Marks’ already slighted name enough with having Benjamin out of wedlock (a bastard – the fact of it had practically killed their mother – not that their mother had exactly been a model of virtue either, but still), she insisted on making a mockery of the Boland name too by engaging in such indiscretions beneath Beth’s very own roof.

She huffs out a breath.

“Well, I guess the matter will have to wait until morning, won’t it?”

Benjamin nods in agreement, but waits until Beth’s formal dismissal to disappear back into his bedroom, and well. It’s not long until Beth’s moving to her own, up the stairs and down the hall, ringing the bell for the maid to attend her in the process.

It likely has been broken, she thinks. The vase.

If not through the children, then through Annie, or perhaps one of the servants. Likely a simple accident – a knock against the buffet, enough to wobble it and leave it shattered against the floor of the receiving hall, but - -

The cufflinks, she reminds herself.

And the cradle.

Beth frowns, stepping into her bedroom and sitting down at her dresser. She removes her delicate golden earrings, her treasured pearl necklace, the pins that fasten her hair up in its curls, laying them each gently in the hollow of her jewellery box – the small, carved rosewood chest being one of the few things she’d brought with her when Dean had wed her near twenty years ago. It had been a blessing, that much she’d known even then, or rather, not so much a blessing, but a mutually beneficial match.

The Boland’s had been new money after all – Mr. Boland Sr. having thrived in the business of horse carriages, custom designing some of such quality and innovation, he had risen social ranks with unheard of haste, and it hadn’t been long before talk flooded town of the eligibility of his tall, strong and handsome son. He’d had some uncouthness of course, everyone knew that, but the promise was that that could be trained out of him with the right wife, and a good, old family, and - - well.

The Marks’ had been a family in decline, hadn’t they? Their wealth so whittled away by bad investments and her father’s penchant for gambling, although one still – at the time at least – of strong social standing and honour. When Mr. Boland Sr. had spotted Beth, still just sixteen, at a soiree at Lady Hazel’s, and proposed the match, her father had insisted they could do better, but her mother, bitter even then, had known they couldn’t hope to.

Beth glances down at her gaudy wedding ring, twisting it on her finger, wondering if perhaps she could get away with removing it – if only for an hour or two, when Dorothy appears in her doorway.

“You rang, ma’am?”

Quickly moving her hands, Beth gestures behind her to the back of her dress, rising steadily to her feet in the process. Picking up on the cue as she always does, Dorothy crosses the master bedroom – passing the large, four poster bed, soft gold chaise, the ottoman, Dean’s locked cabinet – to Beth’s spot at her dresser, her aging fingers making quick work of unhooking each little eyelet on the back of Beth’s gown.

The cool fall air chills her skin, nipping above her many petticoats before slipping below as Dorothy pulls them off and puts them aside, the stiffer ones and the softer, then the bustle, before finding the laces of her corset and making as quicker work as she can. Beth swallows in a rich, full breath as the thing loosens, her ribs singing in gratitude, her waist softening too sweetly as Dorothy finally pulls it off too.

Leaving Beth in just her chemise, stockings, garter and drawers, Dorothy takes a step back, finding Beth’s robe from the closet, draping it over her, before tilting her head, directing her out into the hall.

“We’ve rest the bath in front of the fire, my lady,” Dorothy tells her, and Beth nods. Now that the season has started to chill, it’s best to bathe before the larger fire in the library instead of in her and Dean’s chambers. She allows Dorothy to lead her out, unable to quite help peering into each of the children’s rooms as she passes, catching their little forms curled in each of their little beds, their soft snores and snuffles barely audible over the crackle of the fire in the distance and the slosh of the water the servants are pouring into the tub.

Dorothy closes the door to the library, and Beth sucks in a warm breath, dropping her robe from her shoulders and feeling her nipples pebble beneath the brisk fall air. She slips out of the last of her clothes, and down into the portable tub, exhaling as the languid water engulfs her.

“Will that be all for now?” Dorothy asks, and Beth blinks over at her, the steam through the dark briefly ensnaring the other woman. She should ask her about the vase, Beth thinks, but then perhaps not. She’d asked after the cuff links and the cradle after all, and much more interrogation could lead to unhappiness amongst the staff. Annie had told her stories after all, of other houses, where servants spat in food or dropped hems from dresses, and Dorothy hadn’t seemed to know anything about the other things anyway.

But of course, there was the other question.

Beth clutches at the rim of the tub, tilting up her chin as she clears her throat.

“Has Lord Boland sent word of when we might expect him home tonight?”

A pause.

Beth looks, breath caught, and Dorothy wrings her hands.

“No, my lady.”

And well.

Beth waves out her own hand, dismissing her.

#my fic #what the sea wants the sea will have #welcome to my ama #inyoursheets

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miss-edith-cushing · 4 years

Text

yet another tag meme

@ashfae didn’t joke about tagging me in everything forever, even if that means two games in one day, and as a professional procrastinator I had to answer to both of them on the same day.

Nickname: I don’t really have one. At home I’m Kaja or Kajeczka (which is a completely different name), at work I’m Ruda (Ginger), for my friends I’m Karola. For one of my friends I’m Fi, but only she can use it. I’m kinda sad no one calls me what my grandmother used to, Hajduczek (which is a very complicated thing to explain and no one is interested in that), but I guess that would stay just her thing.

Zodiac: Virgo

Height: 164 cm

Last thing I googled: Names of the wall paints I used in my room. I was talking with my friend about posters I have and told her all that shit (really, I have A LOT of stuff) hangs on the walls in two colours and additional piece of wallpaper. I had to show her a bit of that, she liked the colours and since she’s planning to renovate her bedroom a little, I looked for the name of the brand and colours I used.

Favorite song: At first I wanted to say it’s completely impossible to choose twenty, let alone one, and I refuse to answer this question, but then I sat for a while and thought about it, and I didn’t have much problem with choosing. It’s this one:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYJix_D1qjM

Let me put it this way: there’s not one person in Poland who doesn’t know it, it was composed in the 60′s, it’s still played in mainstream radio stations, I’ve heard it millions of times and I still can just sit and weep over it’s complete beauty. I should be resistant to that, but I’m not. I’m not going to translate the lyrics, because: 1. they were written first as a poem and that should be done by a professional, and 2. I don’t believe it can be translated with keeping even 50% of it’s artistry. It’s a happy song, about the autumn and the young love, and that’s sounds very banal, but gosh... Every word is perfect. And the performance! Czesław Niemen was and is and forever will be the pope of 20th-century Polish music, had the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard, was extremely talented (he was a composer, lyricist, singer and multi-instrumentalist, seriously, he could play at least six completely different instruments), and his repertoire was very diversified, from big-beat, pop, rock, progressive rock, to even film scores and theatre music. One day I’m gonna snap and just flood your dashes with his songs, and then hack your computers so you’d have to listen to his music 24/7. Or I’m just going to make a huge playlist and post it every 15 minutes.

Number of followers: 139. Every time someone starts following me I’m completely shocked; I have no clue how it’s possible that so many of you want to see all that chaos that is my blog on your dash.

Amount of sleep: Around six hours.

Lucky number: I don’t believe in lucky numbers, but I’m a great fan of 11.

Song stuck in my head: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CgkWs5p6Nk0

I fell into an abyss of Niemen’s music, I can’t get out and I hope you’ll stay with me there too.

Favourite Instrument: Piano. I really, really like clarinet and viola da gamba, but there’s nothing like a piano.

Dream Job: A writer. A published one. But because that’s very unlikely to happen, I would gladly work as an archivist in some very small, very quiet library/archive. I did that for two months as my student internship and... what’s the English term for it... I think description - that was the most fun I ever had at work. Reading hand-written letters created between 1862 and 1891 and trying to understand who wrote it, to whom was it written, where, when, what about... Wonderful, I could spend eternity doing that. (But not describing photos, this is the punishment that awaits bad archivists when they die and go to hell, I did that for a week or two and almost lost my mind).

Aesthetic: Pretentious bitch covered in dark or intense colours that probably doesn’t want to talk to you/pretentious but probably harmless doll who’s trying to pretend it’s the 50′s - basically wearing clothes that most people would maybe dare to put on if they were going to a wedding on Mondays at 9.00 a.m. Overdressed most of the time.

Favourite Author: This question is entirely not fair, I can’t decide! Ok, I’m gonna cheat a little bit: I’d say Charlotte Brontë for a novelist, and Charles Reznikoff for a poet.

Favourite Animal Noise: My cat’s meowing when she’s looking for me.

Random: I don’t have many nice or entertaining stories or facts to share, but every time someone visits me, I make my mother tell them how she smuggled silver nitrate to Turkey in the 70′s and almost got killed (and saw a man whose hair turned white in one night because of the stress and fear). It sounds awful, I know, but it’s so amazing I never get tired of listening about it. (That automatically reminds me how her parents sold 19th-or-18th-century furniture and a fucking Steinway, almost got robbed and what they did with the money from that sale, and it’s a completely different and very sad story, in my heart much sadder than my mother being in mortal danger, and I’m not ready to talk about it yet).

Writing in a foreign language is exhausting, it’s 10 p.m. and I don’t have the energy eat my supper, let alone think about tagging anyone, but please feel free to play if you want to and click those damn links if you even bothered to read all this mess, you will thank me later.

#personal #wow two tag games in one day #too tired to think about anything remotely funny to put here

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alecmagnuslwb · 4 years

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Soulmates

Writer’s Month 2020 Day Five

Read on AO3

Everyone has a soulmate, even impossibly a bastard like John Constantine. Not that he thinks he’s got some great, beautiful souled person out there that’s destine to be his. No John assumes that a bastard is destine for a bastard, no matter their gender.

He hasn’t really thought about soulmates in years, not since he was a child and his mother told him stories about the moment everything bursts into color and you suddenly know the names of every color before you. He’s grown accustom to the way his eyes see the world, but lately the black and white vision he lives with every day has grown tiresome. He plays with his magic, still learning and growing stronger every day and wonders if it casts in different colors, wonders what those colors are if they do. He lights the flames in the palms of his hands and can only feel the burn without being amazed by the orange and red glow he’s been told they have whatever that might mean.

He's barely over twenty but he’s old enough to know that the world isn’t black and white by any means. It’s mottled with greys and shades of everything that he can’t see, but he can sense.

Tonight is another black and white night for him. He pushes open the door to the bar he’d seen a few nights ago when heading back to the motel he’s been crashing in. A rush of noise washes over him as he steps inside some hokey rock band that fancies themselves the next Billy Idol playing a horrendous cover of ‘White Wedding’ onstage.

John grits his teeth praying they don’t butcher something by The Clash next, he’ll have to leave America immediately if they do.

He shuffles over to the bar, taking a seat on an empty stool near the far end and flags down the bartender ordering himself a whiskey. He gives the man behind the bar a wink when he places the drink down in front of him and the bartender walks away completely ignoring the flirtation.

John just shrugs unbothered by the rejection and spins around watching as the band plays the last chorus. When they’re done the other patrons clap and John hopes they’re all drunk with the enthusiasm they’re putting behind it. The room transforms into a clutter of voices and clinking glasses after that so John swivels back around downing his first drink and ordering a second.

Behind the bar a poster catches his eye, a top hat adorning the center. He’s just reading the words Mistress of Magic across it when a deeply bad and deeply fake British accent sounds into the microphone on stage. John turns back around to find the lead Billy Idol wannabe yelling for everyone to quiet down.

“Alright, now we know your claps for us were bullshit and this is the real show you’re here for,” he says gesturing to the space around. “So, without further ado, the Mistress of Magic, the silver-tongued siren, everyone’s favorite majestic magician Zatanna!”

If John had known there was a magic show tonight, he might have found a better drinking hole. He’s got no need to watch someone pull cheap tricks and poorly concealed rabbits out of a hat.

John’s about to swivel back around, order one more drink and be on his way, but he finds himself frozen halfway when Zatanna appears on stage, not through a cloud of smoke hiding a trap door in the floor, but through a real bonafide portal.

That alone would capture his attention, but the woman herself has him sliding back to face the stage completely. She’s stunning, the goth princess of his dreams in knee high boots, fishnets, leather shorts and a corset with a bowtie.

Her arms are bare something whispered under her breath sending a trail of sparkling magic down them as she flips her long dark hair over her shoulder and gives the patrons a dazzling smile.

John doesn’t need to see color to know she’s a vision, but he’d pay good money to know what colors that magic is flowing down her arms and how it looks against her skin.

“Ready to see some real magic tonight boys, girls and non-binaries?” she says, her voice a melody. The audience roars and if John wasn’t so frozen in place he might too.

That’s when the show really begins, she conquers the stage, keeping everyone’s eyes on her the entire time. She twists magic around the room, her power strong and thick in the air. She speaks in languages he doesn’t recognize until eventually he realizes it’s backwards magic, a rarely used magic that she’s clearly no novice in.

There’s something about her that’s familiar, but he doesn’t have the right of mind to think too hard about it. To think beyond the absolute captive hold she has on him with every move she makes and every spell she utters.

Zatanna knows how to work a stage, how to hold an audience in the palm of her hand.

He’s certain he could meet his soulmate right this second and have the world burst into color and he still wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from the front of this bars.

He doesn’t so much as blink for the forty-five minutes she’s on stage.

“Alright, for my last trick, I need another volunteer,” she says and hands shoot up all across the bar, even the bartender who seemingly has a job to do sticks his high in the sky.

She scans the audience carefully tapping her finger to her lips until her eyes fall on him.

“You,” she says pointing his way. “At the bar.”

John pulls his eyes from the stage for the first time certain she’s pointing at someone else, like the eager bartender behind him.

“Yeah you in the tie, that’s right, come on,” she says making a come-hither motion with her finger that John couldn’t resist if he was chained down on his deathbed.

John slips from his seat picking his way through the bar and onto the stage. And if she was gorgeous from far away up-close John’s not sure how anyone could resist those piercing eyes. He wonders what color they are.

“I’m Zatanna, as you know,” she says smiling at the audience quickly before holding out a hand in his direction. Her nails are painted with little clusters of shimmering stars on them, a tiny detail he couldn’t see all the way from the bar. “And what’s your name handsome?”

He tries to force down a smile and fails, there’s no doubt she calls every poor schmuck she pulls up on the stage that and makes them blush, he’s not special even if he wishes he was.

“John,” he says putting his hand in hers and that’s when it happens. His vision blurs for a moment and then like paint being splattered on a canvas color blooms all around him. The curtains are red, the stage a deep brown and Zatanna’s eyes a deep, dark blue. She’s looking into his eyes too, a small soft smile on her lips.

Her eyes drop down to his tie briefly and she chuckles then quickly as if their whole worlds hadn’t just changed she’s turning back to the audience. A performers quick mind keeping up appearances for the show.

John barely recalls the trick he assists her with just knows that he trusts her implicitly and at one point ends up floating. When it’s over and he’s stepping down from the stage she touches his hand softly, a silent request to stay so she can find him after the show.

John nods stepping away as she gives the audience one last light show. A burst of rainbow sparks from her fingers before she disappears into another portal casting him one last glance.

John’s finally pulled from his daze once she’s out of sight and immediately books it for the door. He should stick around, really meet this person who’s his person, but he can tell from one look at that soft smile she’d given him she’s far too good to be stuck with the likes of him.

The universe fucked up, there’s no way a man like him deserves a woman like her.

He doesn’t get far, just barely out the door when a shimmering portal like the one on stage appears in front of him and Zatanna steps out now in a leather jacket with a shining silver top hat pin on the lapel.

“Oh, you’re here,” she says looking at him with that same soft smile.

He looks up and around her wondering if he can make his escape.

“Oh, you’re leaving,” she says disappointed. Her hands fall to her side uselessly.

“Look, it’s not you,” he starts and she lets out a sharp wounded breath.

“Ouch, I’ve heard that one before,” she says attempting to laugh off what she’s seeing as a rejection. He’s not rejecting her though, far from it, he’d love to curl up next to her and never leave he’s fairly certain. He’s rejecting the universe cursing this soft smiling magical being to getting saddled with jaded, piss poor soulmate like him.

He shakes his head. “It’s not that, I swear it, I’d stay in a heartbeat if it was only my heart on the line. It’s just there is no way a woman like you deserves to get stuck with a mess like me, trust me.”

He sidesteps and starts to walk past her, but a hand on his forearm pulls him to a stop. She spins around so she’s standing face to face with him.

“Look I won’t act like I understand the magic or science or whatever it is behind this system and I won’t act like it’s perfect, but something out there thinks you and I fit, thinks we could fit. So, shouldn’t I get to decide what I deserve?” she says with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t take that choice away from me.”

John takes a deep breath. He really doesn’t want to hurt her, but if he leaves right now that will hurt her more than if he stays and maybe one day down the line messes up. She’s right. He’s a coward who tried to run.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” John says pulling his pack of cigarettes out. He pats around for a lighter and Zatanna leans in saying a quiet ‘erif’ her fingertip bursting in a yellow orange flame and lighting the cigarette he sticks between his lips.

“You’re forgiven, as long you don’t run off on me again,” she says smiling as she blows out the flame on her finger.

He takes a long drag blowing it off to the side and away from her.

“I won’t,” he says hoping he can keep that as a promise.

“Great. So, let’s try this again, I’m Zatanna Zatara,” she says holding out her hand. Zatara. Suddenly the familiarity of her makes sense, the backwards magic coming so easily for her much clearer now. If he was worried he wasn’t worthy of her before the last name doesn’t help that worry lessen. She’s a magical dynasty doing stage work in a dive bar.

He doesn’t run just because of that shocking development however.

“John Constantine,” he says putting his hand in hers. This time there’s no blurring vision, no burst of color, just a warm, soft hand holding onto his.

She smiles, “I like your tie John Constantine.” He looks down noticing the bright red of it for the first time. The irony that the rest of both of their outfits are black and white on the night where color came into their lives is not lost on him. “It’s a nice pop of color.”

He laughs, letting go of her hand to tug at the tie.

“I didn’t actually know it was red when I nicked it.”

“Nicked it?” she says eyes going a little wide. It sounds a little funny coming from her lips with no British accent.

“Uh,” he says twisting up his face. “Bought it?”

The question mark on his words is clear and she just laughs threading her arm through his as he tosses his cigarette at his feet stamping it out.

“Come on we’re having dinner and you’re telling me all about how you stole that tie, soulmate,” she says tugging him along into the neon lit night.

He likes the sound of that, even if he’s convinced the universe made a colossal mistake.

#my fic #writersmonth2020 #johnzee #john constantine #zatanna zatara

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hockeybabestars · 4 years

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New Year, Same Us - Auston Matthews - Eight

a/n: im going out of town for a football game/visiting friends this weekend and i’m not bringing my computer so i thought i would post this early for yall!! thank you to every person who has been keeping up with this story and liking or reblogging! you mean so much to me! i hope yall enjoy the longest chapter of new year same us, to make up for the shortest in chapter seven (yikes!) we’re almost through with this story yall! we have a lil flashback in this chapter! (in italics) and finally have the prompt that started it all! (in bold)

September 18, 2018

Austons P.O.V

“Aus?!” She yelled from her room. “Are you almost ready?”

I had been ready for 20 minutes and was sitting on our couch waiting for her to finish up. “Yeah I’m ready now!” I rolled up my sleeve to get a better look at my watch, “are you almost ready? It would look really bad if my plus one made us late.” I snicker as I heard her heels clack, the light to the hallway going off simultaneously.

I got up from the sofa as she entered, and boy, was I going to have to keep an eye on her tonight. She looked stunning. The light pink dress cinched her curves in all the right places, and her hair was in waves. She was like something out of a dream. She didn’t bat an eye as she went to the kitchen looking for the keys. I came up behind her and dangled them in her face, and before she could snatch them I pulled them away. She reached for them again but I held them behind my head, and suddenly she was all too close to my face. I glanced down at her lips, wanting to kiss them badly but then I quickly diverted back up to her eyes. “You look stunning (Y/N).”

I could feel her breath hitch against my own lips and the minty flavor of her gum hit my nose before she smiled genuinely, her signature smile where her lips tilted a little crooked at the corners, and it made my heart flutter. “Thanks Aus, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

She stepped away and we did a once over of our apartment, making sure we didn’t forget anything. I grinned and opened our front door for her, watching her walk as she went. I locked the door and we went down the hall towards the elevator, “just out of curiosity,” she toyed with a strand of her hair, eyes flicking up to me through long lashes, “how much did your suit cost?” She was smirking at me and I couldn’t resist really. “Wanna bet on it?” The elevator dinged for us to get on and she rolled her eyes, “do I even have a choice?”

“No use fighting at this point babydoll.” I flashed her my signature smirk as the floor indicator ticked down.

“Does that really work on girls?” She played.

“Apparently not on you.” I laughed but deep down I kinda hoped it did.

“It’s because I know you better than you know you.” She stated matter of factly. She did though. That was the scary part. We hit the first level and strolled out, before she added thoughtfully, “did you want it to work on me?”

I felt my cheeks flame, and was thankful she was walking slightly ahead of me, “uhh,” I faltered before gaining my confidence back, “depends on if you wanted it too.”

She stopped for a split second, giving me a chance to catch up before she continued walking, this time leaning into me a little bit, “maybe.”

My heart jumped at that, “Still wanna make that bet?” I opened the car door for her. She thanked me and I hopped in the drivers side.

“Am I betting high or low.” She gave me side eye as she buckled her seat belt and we were off.

“What do you think?” I grinned. There’s no way she gets this. “Do you know your suits? What brand am I even wearing?” I smiled.

I could feel her eyes on me as mine were on the road, and she reached over and ran her finger down the lapel of it, feeling the fabric. I tried to concentrate on the road but she was leaned over the console examining the details of my suit, looking for anything that would give away the designer or price. I needed to think fast, I could tell this would be a long night already and it hadn’t really even begun.

I swatted her hand away, “hey stop it! that’s cheating.” I smiled and looked over at her as we hit a light. She placed her palm flat against my chest as she mocked me, pulling her lower lip into a pout. I could feel my heartbeat pick up and surely she could too.

“Just seeing what I have to work with Aus.” The nickname melted off her tongue like butter and really I only like it when she says it anyway. The light flashed green and I grabbed her hand off my chest, entwining our fingers together and resting them over the middle console. “I’m betting high, what like $7,000? Is that too much for a suit? What is it Gucci? Aren’t you like their poster boy or something?”

I laughed at her accusations and she squeezed my hand a little too hard. “Ow! Jeez woman that hurt. Those are my money makers!”

She swatted at me again, “sorry not sorry. Isn’t like half your closet Gucci or something. I feel like I should know this but I’m really drawing a blank here.”

A smile crept up onto my face. She’s cute when she’s thinking too hard. She always over thinks or over-analyzes everything. It’s like it’s written in her DNA or something.

She looked over at me and I attempted to keep a straight face, “it’s Gucci isn’t it.” I nodded. “$7000 close?”

I kept a tight lip. She turned towards me, “it’s fuckin higher isn’t it!!!” Her voice raised towards the end and I burst out laughing.

“$10,000.” Her jaw dropped, “what do I get since you couldn’t guess it?”

“I can’t believe you spent $10,000 on a suit.” She was in awe, “that’s like a trip to Europe, or a down payment on a car, what are you psycho?”

“Are you really belittling me right now?” I chuckled, “you guessed $7,000 that’s just as high!!!”

“Yeah but-“

“But what? $7000 okay to drop but $10 is too much?” Her face went blank as she tried to process it and I howled as her eyebrows knit together. She was something else.

“I hate you.” She fought to keep the smile off her face.

“Your mouth says otherwise.” She covered her lips with her hands as we pulled up to the venue, she finally pulled them off as we valeted the car. And as we walked into the rustic barn I elbowed her a bit, grinning wildly, “seriously though, what’s my prize since you didn’t guess right?”

She linked our arms as we tried to figure out where we were sitting and smirked at me, “Bragging rights.”

“I bet we could make it a little more interesting.”

“Oh of course you bet huh.”

“You owe me a dance.”

She pouted. “Aus-“

“Nuh-Uh. We’re dancing later, it’s the least you can do.”

I can tell she wanted to press me further but instead she just nodded, “Okay.”

“Wow, I didn’t think that would be this easy. I need to win bets more often.” I knew how much she hated dancing. It was because she had two left feet and literally tripped over herself on any normal day. She didn’t like to embarrass herself. The truth was, she wasn’t a bad dancer at all. She could dance fine by herself, especially after a drink or two. But she was clumsy enough that partner dancing wasn’t really her thing. I always try to get her to at weddings and events but she doesn’t budge. She's stubborn as hell, but it’s why I love her. She doesn’t change for anyone. Not even me. I always ended up finding some random bridesmaid to dance with at these things, but tonight she was mine.

We wandered further into the barn stopping for a few pictures together before the ceremony as Paige snapped away on her phone and a film camera as well. Mitch and Steph found their way to us too and soon enough we had group pictures with the six of us, then guys, girls, and finally as we finished up it was about time to find our seats.

The Tavares wedding was really going to be something. Greenery was everywhere and there was a modern feel to their set up even with the more natural elements. I put a hand on (Y/N)’s lower back and guided her to our seats on the grooms side. We were in the middle back and slid into the refurbished white bench with ease, the rest of our group following suit, filing into the row after us. I wrapped an arm around the back of (Y/N)’s seat as she crossed her ankles, leaning into me while we waited for the ceremony to start. A comfortable silence settled over us and somehow both our free hands found each other on their own accord. Soon enough she was playing with my fingers, clasping and unclasping them, tracing the outline of my hand and holding our palms up to watch our hands align. It was something we had done plenty of times before. Whenever we got bored or were watching Netflix or at family events. It was inevitable that our hands would meet. Her hand was a lot smaller than mine, and we quietly played a game of thumb wars before the loud chattering settled down. I could hear the preacher say to rise, so I gently grabbed her hand in mine and lead her up. She was still leaning into me as we waited for the bride to make her way down the aisle.

John and Aryne chose to say their own vows although short and sweet. It was nice. Being here, celebrating them. (Y/N) was the perfect wedding date. She was classy and reserved when needed but could definitely open up and make conversation with anyone who approached her. And soooo many people approached her. Which was crazy because she was the plus one. But that’s just (Y/N), stealing everyone’s heart the way she stole mine.

It had to be obvious at this point. I thought my incessant flirting and annoying her every chance I got would be enough to give her the hint, but apparently not. I thought that living together was another sign that maybe I was kind of into her but she just took it at face value since it was the most logical option. I think I really realized how I've felt this past May. I mean, it was there all along, but I didn’t admit it to myself until then. She started hooking up with some random guy at college, and when I walked into some kid in our apartment it made my stomach lurch. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that sick in my life.

I had talked to her earlier in the day. We were on a long road trip in the west and I was excited to get back and see her.

It felt like maybe things had been changing between us lately, and I wanted to get back and test the waters a little just to see if she even felt a tiny bit the same. It was easy with her. I missed her like crazy, constantly texting to see what she was up to, and sending snapchat updates of what the boys and I were doing, just because I knew she would send a picture back and I could see that gorgeous face again.

Our flight was delayed because weather in Toronto was pretty bad. And we didn’t end up landing till pretty late. I texted her when we landed at 12 that I would be home soon. I never got a response so I figured she was asleep.

What I didn’t expect, when I came home at 1am on a Saturday, was some random guy going through the cupboards in our kitchen with just his boxers on.

“Uh who are you?” I had a sour taste in my mouth.

The guy looked up from his position on the floor, going through the bottom cabinets and I swear almost shit himself. “Oh my god you’re Auston Matthews.” I frowned. Oh jeez a hockey fan, how rare in this city! He shook his head in disbelief and stood up, walking over to me and put his hand out for me to shake. I took it, begrudgingly. “I’m Reese, it’s really nice to meet you, although I never thought it would be like this.”

I scoffed, but he didn’t seem to notice. He found (Y/N)’s post it notes on the kitchen island and pulled one off handing it to me, “do you think you could sign this for me?”

“What the hell is going on here? Reese I thought-” (Y/N) ‘s voice sounded a little groggy, like she might’ve been sleeping, but when she came out of her room, only clad in black lace underwear and a t-shirt I presumed to be his, my breath caught in my throat. One because she looked damn good. And two because she was wearing his clothes and practically nothing else. I felt a fire in my chest. I swallowed hard and tried to remain neutral.

When she finally realized I was home her eyes went wide. “Oh, uh, hey Aus.”

“(Y/N) you didn’t tell me your roommate was the Auston Matthews.” This guy was still here?

She uncomfortably glanced over at me. Yeah me too. “Uh roommate? Try best friend.” I said smugly.

“I didn't see a reason to bring it up.” She said. Ouch that hurt.

“Sorry Reese bro, but I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, I really need to get to bed and I’m sure your friend (Y/N) here can fill you in on all the dirty details later. Have a great night.” I walked past them and into my room, shutting the door. Trying to get ready for bed without my head exploding from everything that just happened. I waited until I could hear him leave before I went and knocked on her door.

“What Matthews?” I opened it slightly and peered in, leaning on the door frame and watching her fix her bedding a bit, now in another old t-shirt.

“Matthews huh? Can I come in?” She nodded and crawled under the white comforter patting the spot next to her. I sat down on top of it before rethinking this whole situation. “Actually can we go to my room?” I wasn’t really comfortable that they just fucked in here and wasn’t too keen on sitting in the bed that someone else got to touch her in.

She nodded and as I grabbed her hand, I felt tingles. I didn’t dare to look behind me as I lead her to my room. We crawled under the covers and sat against the headboard.

We stared up at the ceiling a bit before she turned to me. “You’re so dramatic.”

I looked over to her and I could tell she was slightly upset. “But I know that’s not exactly the most fun thing to come home to and I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. Were you ever gonna tell me you were kinda seeing someone?” My jealousy got the best of me, and I couldn’t help but let it seep into my voice a little as I ask.

“No not really, you never tell me when you do...So.” She shrugged, and I tilted my head back a little, groaning.

“You don’t tell people we’re friends either?” It sucked knowing that maybe she was ashamed of me for whatever reason. I always told everyone about her. I loved to talk about her and how proud I am of her for working hard in college and her internship which she officially secured, and just being the amazing, kind hearted person that she is.

“It’s different… I- I don’t tell strangers or people I just met or at least until I have a grasp on their personality. I stopped doing that a long time ago. I can never tell if they want to be friends with me, or have a relationship with me, for me or to get to you.”

“Oh.” It sucks, but it makes sense.

“Oh. Is right. Also I don’t want people to be up either of our asses if they're just clout chasers.” She smiled, shaking her head as I laughed, “Just not how I want to spend my time.”

I sighed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kick him out, that was just weird and I wasn’t expecting you to have company and-“

“Auston. It’s okay. I should’ve warned you in some way, or gone to his place. Maybe this whole thing could’ve been prevented. I’m the one who’s sorry. That situation was pretty awkward.” I don’t want her at some guys place. I want her with me.

I grabbed her hand and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. My stomach churning as I did so, “Stop worrying. Don’t be sorry either. We good?” She nodded and entwined our pinky’s. “Always.” And with that she slipped out of the darkness of my room and back down the hallway to hers. And my heart ached with every step.

Maybe I wasn’t doing enough, maybe I just needed to be upfront.

I took a swig of the beer I was drinking and set it back on the table as I watched her converse with Steph, Paige, and Aryne, Probably complementing the bride on her gown and the allure of the wedding.

Pretty soon we were eating steak, mashed potatoes and wedding cake, and my stomach was all too full when the bride and groom shared their first dance. I looked to (Y/N) to see her swooning at John and Aryne adoringly. She was facing the back of her chair, hands resting on the back of it, and chin resting on her hands. “Don’t you just love those two together?” Her nose crinkled. It was really cute.

I stood and held my hand out to her as other couples started to join in on the dance floor. She looked up to me, eyes slightly glazed from her glasses of champagne, but I knew she was at a good level. Sober enough to make good decisions, buzzed enough to have a good time. “Are you gonna dance with me?” My heart felt like it was racing as I waited for her answer.

She took my hand so I took it as a yes. I lead her out to the dance floor, Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran coming on as we stopped in the middle. She wrapped her arms around my neck and my hands settled on her waist, pulling her close. My stomach churned with nerves and a little bit of excitement. I looked down at her, her head on a swivel, looking everywhere but me. Other people are looking at us and her brow knit in confusion. Her hand was burning a hole where it was placed flat against my chest.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” I touched her forehead lightly, then bringing my hand back down and wrapping it around her waist securely.

She looked back to me, eyes widening, “It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything right?” I tried, pulling her back into me as she slowly tried to pull herself away. “That’s what friends are for. And hey, quit trying to leave me!” I laugh, grinning. “Were kind of in the middle of that dance you owe me.”

She smiles back softly but glances around the room again, this time almost self consciously. “It’s just that… I don’t know- I don’t really know how to say it without sounding weird.”

“Are you okay? Is something wrong? You know nothing you say will ever sound weird to me? I’m pretty sure we’ve been through it all.” I leaned my forehead against hers and try to ease her mind but she seems so off. I don’t know what happened because everything seemed normal when we first got here.

She took a breath and pulled back a little looking right at me, “Everyone thinks we’re a couple.” I could see the nerves riddling her features and it made me curious as to why. It’s not what I was expecting, but it made me grin, “I know.”

“You know? It doesn’t bother you?” Her nose scrunched again.

“Should it? Does it bother you? I mean, personally I think I could do worse as far as fake lovers go, but…” She playfully shoved me and we fell right back into place, swaying as the song went on melodically.

“It really doesn’t bother you?” She seemed unsure, but avoided my question nonetheless, looking up at me as if the only answer I could give would be yes. That it does bother me. And that couldn’t be further from the truth.

I shrugged trying to play it cool, “why would it bother me?”

“I don’t know…” She looked away, back to the surrounding crowd as the song changed. “You’re Auston Matthews.” She huffed. “You can get any girl you want. Wouldn’t people believing that… we’re an item… wouldn’t that get in the way?”

I grabbed her hands in mine, looking down at them. She instinctively clasped them together and my heart warmed as I glanced back up at her. “That’s just the thing.” We had stopped dancing at this point, and I’m pretty sure we were in the way of people trying to dance, but I didn’t mind. “You don’t see me as the Auston Matthews. You never did. You just see me as Auston Matthews, your extremely good looking and talented best friend.” I smirked.

“Way to ruin it.” She laughed.

I gently pulled her closer, “you see me as the dumb kid who broke his arm at your eighth birthday party, and the horrible friend who spilled punch on your prom dress, and the annoying son of bitch who always tries to force you to dance. You never see me as someone who’s untouchable,” I grab her hand and place it over my heart, “you always touch me.” She looked as if she lost her breath, eyes swirling with emotions. She carefully removed the hand that was over my heart and stood still for a second. She looked back up to me meticulously, “let’s get some air yeah?” I let my hand rest on the small of her back and nodded as she lead the way out, one step ahead of me. My heart was pounding in my chest.

I couldn’t be more grateful for the little piece of privacy that we had out here. The air had turned slightly cooler, and I could see her shiver a little, although she would never admit she’s cold. I shrugged my suit jacket off anyway as we walked along the outside of the barn. The sun was starting to go down and the chill in the air picked up. I wrapped my jacket around her shoulders, and used it to pull her in closer to me.

She muttered a thanks and I sucked in a breath. Now or never Matt’s.

But she turned to me sharply, beating me to the punch, “you can’t just say stuff like that you know?”

“Why not?” Her eyes met mine and the wary look on her face told me what I needed to know. I know what she’s thinking. And she means more to me than anyone. She must know that. She has too.

“You could never get in the way of anything (Y/N).” I tucked a lone strand of hair behind her ear as her eyes sparkled and flickered up to mine. “It doesn’t bother me because I don’t want just any girl.” I toe around the subject, hoping she can figure it out before I have to say it outright.

“Well, what do you want Aus?” I want you. Don’t make me say it. Don’t make me ruin a good thing (Y/N). I don’t want to lose us.

My eyes flicker down to her lips. I close my eyes and lean in a little, nudging her nose with my own. Slowly but surely closing the gap between us. I could feel the electricity radiating off her, our lips barely touching before I heard a voice coming from the door. We broke apart, wide eyed, hearts racing, both looking to see who joined us outside.

Kappy looked drunk. And Paige looked like she was dying from laughter. They spotted us and made their way over. I looked back at (Y/N), her cheeks flushed and managing to look anywhere but me, although my arm was still wrapped around her. She leaned into my touch as they approached.

“Youuuuu guyssss.” Kap slurred and Paige just seemed to notice the position we were in.

“Uh Kappy needed some air, but I see you guys did too.” She grabbed his hand and tried to lean him into her for leverage. “We’ll just let you guys have some privacy.”

(Y/N) turned her face into my shoulder as Paige tried to shove Kappy back into the reception. I looked down to her and laughed. She did too, bringing her face out of my shoulder. I would’ve tried to recreate the moment but it seemed like it was lost as she grabbed my hand and tugged me back inside. “C’mon Aus, we should get back.” And I had no choice but to follow.

#auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #new year same us #nysu fic #toronto maple leafs #hbsimagine #hockeybabestars #friends to lovers #friends to more

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tyrustrash · 5 years

Text

Today- A Red White and Royal Blue fic

It’s taking every thought of his abuela and vision of not making congress to make Alex get rid of his raging boner right now. He’s currently trying, and miserably failing, to not stare at Henry’s perfectly round ass that’s showed off in his well fitted trousers. Henry’s costume made suit showcases every part of his body as if it were trying to seduce Alex. The suit is a new shade of white called “Pure Holy Light White”, which is somehow whiter than the average frat house. That name itself is ironic since he is not as pure as his ancestors were when they were coronated. It is encrusted with jewels of every color of the rainbow that are aligned down the jacket’s lapels. The back of the jacket has a peace sign with the US, UK, Mexico, and gay flags inside of it. The trousers have gold roses stitched up the sides. And now back to that ass. The fit of the trousers lifts it and it so tights that the outline of his boxers could be seen. He’s wearing Alex’s necklace of the key and ring so that way he has a piece of his heart on him. Everything about the suit is perfect, just like he wanted. He also plans on wearing the suit at his wedding. They’re currently in the middle of Henry’s coronation. The Queen and Henry’s mom passed a few weeks ago, Philip got arrested, and Bea got married without consent of the Queen, so that means Henry is the only one left in the line of succession. He would have never thought this day would come, the day he becomes the King. The thought never occurred because he was sure Philip would beat him to it, or at least have kids by now, but no, he had to fuck up his life and land in jail. Bea has always been the wild child of the group, so it wasn’t that shocking when she eloped with Nikolai, Prince of Denmark. The two make a really cute couple, and their son inherited every possible gene that attributes to cuteness. Anyway, the time has come for Henry to take the throne. He’s scared more than anything. Scared of being the worst leader in history. Scared of being the most hated. Scared of trying to live up to people’s expectations. And worst of all, scared of losing Alex. He keeps worrying that the new role of being the king will be too much for Alex. They’ve talked about it since they found out Henry would take the throne, but the conversations mainly consisted of playfully insulting each other, which would then lead to sex. However, Alex always assured him that no matter what, he’ll be by his side every second of it. That he’ll always be able to give his support and anything else he needed. Henry holds the scepter with both his hands as he kneels, nearly ripping his trousers from the tightness. He looks up at the archbishop, who is holding the crown. After reciting the oath, the crown is slowly placed on top of Henry’s head. It fits perfectly. Henry gets back up and turns to face the spectators, and he waves. Alex approaches him and takes his hand and leads them to the balcony of the palace. The doors open and the two stand over the country. Although it wasn’t, but it looks like the entire country is standing outside, cheering for their new king. Some are holding up poster that say “History, Huh?”, others are holding up rainbow flags, and some are holding up unity signs of both their countries. Henry thought that no one would even support him since he is the first openly gay ruler, but this proves him wrong. He waves to the people, receiving an enormous cheer. “Today,” Henry begins to say. He takes a deep breath and his mind his able to calm down. He looks at Alex, who is still holding his hand. He takes his free hand and pulls Alex’s head in for a kiss. The crowd cheers even louder. His first kiss as the king. It’s passionate, thrilling, and most of all, sexy. He wants to keep going, but remembers he was about to give a speech. He pulls away and wipes off the drool. “Today, we made history. Today marks the begging of a new era. Today is the day anything is possible. Out of all the positions I’ve been in, I’ve never imagined myself in this one. Whenever someone would ask me what I would do if I were king, or even thought about being king, I usually shrugged it off because I kept assuring myself that time would never come. But here we are. I can’t promise anything specific right now, but what I can do is assure you that times are changing. Rules will be changed. We will live in a society without discrimination. Most of all, I will marry this gorgeous, charming, sexy piece of man right here and we will rule in style!” Loud screams from the crowd nearly made the two of them deaf. It was all worth it though, they knew that this is the sound of a new generation. Later that night when everyone left and they were alone, Henry dragged Alex all the way to the throne. Henry took the seat and brought Alex to sit on his lap, Alex’s feet hanging off his own. They start making out, more heated than before. Alex starts grinding his hips. The friction is already getting both of them hard. “I’m so used to fucking a prince.” Alex says as he runs his hands through Henry’s blond hair. He’s having to gasp for breath because he doesn’t want to stop kissing him. “I’m going to enjoy fucking a king.” Henry smiles and bites his bottom lip. He grabs Alex’s ass and gives a firm squeeze. He gets up and switches their positions. Now Alex is the one sitting on the throne with Henry in his lap. “Right here, right now.” “You sure?” Alex asks teasingly. “I mean, you already have a scepter, but you can have mine too.” Henry slaps his chest. “Shut the bloody hell up already and do me, you little pain in my arse.” “There’s nothing little about me and you know it. And you’re about to feel a pain in your ass, but I don’t see how since it should be loose by now.” Alex unbuttons Henry’s pants and slides them down to just get his ass out. Henry does the same to Alex, but manages to pull them down to his ankles. Alex takes off his own shirt, leaving him only in his light blue American Eagle boxer briefs. His erection standing straight up, slighting touching the tip of Henry’s. Henry pulls down his American flag boxers, revealing himself to his boyfriend. Alex reaches into Henry’s jacket pocket and pulls out a condom and the small bottle of lube. Before he could do anything, Henry swats the items to the ground. “Not yet.” The King tells him. Henry slowly, and seductively, makes his way onto his knees, stopping where his face meets his lover’s dick. He plays with the waistband of the boxer briefs for a minute. Lifting them up then snapping it onto Alex. Hearing the shriek of enjoyment in his voice sent electricity down his spine. After snapping the waistband a few more times, Henry pulled it up, causing more friction than Alex wanted, but didn’t complain. Now pulling it down, Henry stops just before Alex’s dick could spring out. He rubs it a little, just to be more of a fucking tease. He stops and finally pulls his underwear down, letting his dick hit his stomach then stick straight up in the air. Henry admires all nine inches of it. “Blow me already.” Begs Alex. He’s already sweating from all the teasing. “I need to cum so badly.” “I need you to stop whining like a little bitch.” “You obtuse motherfucking asshole.” “Never gets old.” Henry massages Alex’s dick until he can feel Alex about to cum, then he stops. Alex whines, of course, but Henry like doing this to him. He likes having control for once, which is also ironic since he was a prince, and now the king. He slowly licks up the shaft until he reaches the tip. The moans of pleasure coming from Alex was enough to let him know that it was working. Henry presses his soft lips on the tip and gives it a kiss. Alex couldn’t take it anymore, he needs Henry’s mouth on his dick now. He grabs the King’s hair a holds it with a tight grip. He pushes him down to where his dick is all the way in his mouth, hitting the back of his throat. Henry loves when Alex gets this dominate. Alex starts moving Henry’s head up and down, really feeling the sensation. Henry hollows his cheeks to allow better suction, which warrants more moans from Alex. The slurping sounds really set Alex off and causes him to thrust his hip and face fuck Henry. Henry looks up at his boyfriend and recognizes that face. Alex is about to release. The way his breathing gets more scattered, his mouth forming into a goofy grin, and the way he curls his toes and the way his body tenses up. Henry smiles knowing the pleasure he’s causing, but also knowing the torture that’s to come. Henry pulls away to stop sucking, earning a whine from Alex. A line of spit from his mouth to the tip of the dick is formed. Henry wipes it away as he stands. “Come on, baby.” Alex whines. He has the biggest puppy dog sad eyes as he quivers his lips. “Why did you stop? I was about to cum.” Henry chuckles. He removes his trouser and boxers and tosses them to the side. Alex stares at Henry’s seven incher and drool drips from his mouth and onto his chest. He takes of his shirt and jacket to hang them on the back of the throne. Alex attempts to grab his own dick, but Henry slap his hand. He sits on Alex’s lap, his ass pressing against Alex’s erection. “I know. I’m not done with my fun yet.” “Bitch, if I don’t cum right now, we’re not fucking until the rest of time.” “You wouldn’t last until dawn. You can’t resist my sweet ass. And I can’t resist your nice bubble butt. Face it, we’re horny creatures.” “I don’t want to face it. I want to fuck it.” Alex tries to grab the condom that’s on the floor, but Henry grabs his arm and places it on his ass. Alex smiles and rubs it in circles. He gives a hard smack, causing it to jiggle. Just the way he likes it. The moan from Henry is enough to cause there to be precum for Alex. “Please, baby. I love you so much, and I want to show it.” Instead on responding, Henry leans down and kisses Alex. Instead of the kiss being rough, it’s soft yet passionate, just like their first kiss under that tree in the garden. Alex rubs Henry’s back as Henry does the same to his chest. As Alex is about to reach for Henry’s dick, Henry stands. Another whine from Alex. “Not fair. I can’t touch myself, I can’t touch you, I can’t cum. You, sir, are a very bad king.” “I’ve been bad, have I? Maybe a little bit naughty. And what are you going to do with me?” Henry asks teasingly. He teases some more by perking out his ass, granting a lip lick from Alex. The curve of his ass is so plump and spankable, giving Alex an idea. “Get over my knee, now!” He demands, making Henry even more hard. Henry obeys with a smile and positions himself over Alex’s knee. He ass up in the air ready for what’s coming its way. Alex kneads Henry’s ass like it’s pizza dough. Giving it a firm squeeze, Henry knows what’s going to happen next. Alex raises his right arm and brings it down on his ass. The jiggle was about too much for Alex to handle with cumming already, but he keeps it together. A small red spot has appeared on Henry’s ass from where it was spanked, but he knew it would get redder. Alex repeats the process for about three minutes. Each spank sent an even greater amount of electricity through both of their bodies. Ever since Henry said he has a spanking kink, they’ve made sure to include it just about any time the get it on. Other times Alex likes to spank Henry when they’re passing each other as they’re walking. Whenever Henry had to bend over, Alex took the chance to smack his ass. Any time that Alex randomly spanks Henry, he knows Henry will return the favor and do something to him, which is usually a blowjob in the most random places whenever they get horny. When Alex finished spanking the naughty king, he pulls him up and sits him back down on his lap. The king laughs as he runs his hands through Alex’s now sweaty hair. Henry leans down to Alex’s ear and gives it a little nibble and says, “Now.” Not even a millisecond later, Alex already has the condom in one hand and tears it open with his teeth. The sight of it makes Henry eager for it. Henry takes the condom out of the packet and places it on the tip of Alex’s dick. He slowly rolls it down, making sure to tickle the shaft as he makes his way down. Finishing unrolling the condom, Henry teases even more by hovering over the dick and barely touching the tip, then moves away. “If you don’t stop that teasing, I’m not going to go easy on you.” “When are you ever easy? You know I like it rough. I like it when you pound me like no tomorrow.” “Talk dirty to me, you filthy cock slut.” “You mountain biking vampire witch from the future. Fuck my pussy with a rake.” “Oh, god.” That was it. The final straw before Alex completely lost it. He grips Henry’s hips and brings him down onto his dick. The sheer scream of pleasure that Henry made is music to his ears. He starts thrusting harder than ever, going in and out, also bringing Henry up and down as well, causing both of them to release sounds of erotic love. Henry is loving every second of this. He kisses Alex again, this time harder. He bites his lip. “Harder, daddy.” Fuck it. He couldn’t resist it when he called him that. He has such the biggest daddy kink. He was unsure of how Henry would react to it, but turns out the king is completely into it. He was so into it that there were times he called him that in front of family and press. It was embarrassing as hell, but it completely turned Alex on and he gave it to Henry later on in bed. “You like this, baby?” Alex asks in between thrusts. “I do, daddy.” Henry leans forward and looks Alex straight into his eyes. “Dámelo, papi.” After that, it doesn’t take long before Alex blows his load, mainly because of that goddamn tease of a boyfriend. However, he manages to give one final thrust to hit Henry’s prostate, causing the loudest moan ever. It managed to have an echo. They both cum at the same time. Henry releases his load all over Alex’s chest, some even getting on his face. Alex pulls out and wipes his face, licking the cum that was on it. He pulls off the condom and waves it in front of Henry. “This is because of you. Damn, this is the most I’ve ever produced.” Henry takes the cum filled condom and slaps Alex’s face with it. “You’re welcome, daddy.” Henry gets off Alex and stands on the floor. He walks over to his underwear, but is walking as if he has a limp. Alex grins, knowing that he’s going to have trouble walking and sitting for a while. As Henry bends down to pick up his boxers, Alex doesn’t miss the chance to give him one last spanking for the night.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #fanfic #fanfiction #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #gay #lgbt #bisexual

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