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Oh my god. So. My wisdom teeth surgery is tomorrow. (*internal screaming*) And i woke up early today so i’d be able to easily wake up at like 830 tomorrow for it. And i got the reminder i set on my phone for the day before about that time, looked at it, and rolled over in bed for a couple minutes. SomeHow. The twenty minutes i was there was long enough for my brain to give me a 24-hour jump in time. It was 10:15am tomorrow. I was fifteen minutes late for the appointment and I was more scared of having the surgery itself (checks out) than having everybody mad at me for being late (still pretty scared tho). And i went out into the living room to find my mom waiting for me so she could drive me. And that was when i noticed it wasn’t real. My mom lives hundreds of miles away. I wake up. It’s 10. The dread of having to wait another 24 hours hits. Great.
#taks speaks#I'm Having GHOST PAINS in my inner elbow again!! :'D#why tf am i more scared of a goddamn IV than the surgery itself?? still stuck on this#they're literally ripping out five teeth. Four of them impacted wisdom teeth. and I'm scared of the IV.#i may have to be pried out of the damn house tomorrow#i don't want to do this#but i need the pain and loud crackling in my ear to go away#ntm my dad randomly came home at noon to put in a load of laundry and LEAVE#when its the last day before im dead for like four days AND IM OUT OF SWEATPANTS#WTF MAN.#but whatver. i guess i have to do his laundry now too. fuckin rude.#and i called my mom yesterday and bc she always stocks me up on anxiety meds (this is likely illegal tbh) she was like take *this*#and i have *that*#the doctor did say an anxiety med was okay the morning of#and i guess emotionally numb from a benzo is find when all that's going to happen is making me numb and pass out for like an hour#either way. I'm fucking vibrating.
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Love and Medicine ~ 12
MASTERLIST
< previous chapter
Word Count: 2,815ish
Summary: You are still trying to cope with the fact that Steve’s married. (Read note at the end of the chapter.)
I do not own Grey’s Anatomy or Marvel.
You and Natasha eventually found your way back to your house and into your bedroom’s adjoining bathroom. Natasha was in the bathtub as you laid on the floor.
“It's not us. It's them,” you said. “Them and their stupid boy penises. They didn't tell me they had a wife. They gave absolutely no warning that they were going to break up with you.”
“It's not that Banner broke up with me,” Natasha began. “It's how he broke up with me. Like it was business. Like it was a business transition like he's the boss of me!”
“He is the boss of you.”
“And what's worse is that I care.”
"I'm gonna throw up again.” You moved so that you were leaned over the toilet bowl. "No. Wait. False alarm.”
“Look, the problem is estrogen.”
“No, the problem is tequila.”
“I used to be all business, and then he goes and gets me pregnant.”
“With the stupid boy penis.”
“Now, I'm having hormone surges. He ruined me. I'm ruined. He turned me into this fat, stupid, pregnant girl. Who cares! Estrogen!”
Having heard the commotion from your bathroom, Val, Scott, and Clint found themselves standing in the doorway.
“Penises,” you stated. “Penises Val.”
“Estrogen, Scott. Estrogen,” Nat added.
“Okay…” Scott said, looking around. “What did I miss?”
“I came home to full on vomit drama,” Val explained. “Apparently she dumped Derek and her—“ Val pointed Nat’s way. “She’s been sleeping with Banner!”
“What?”
“So you really broke up with Rogers?” Clint asked.
“I feel empty,” you responded.
“Two hours of vomiting will do that to you,” Val said with a shrug.
“You’re lucky,” Nat added. “I feel pissed off.”
~~~
Arriving in the parking garage, you could clearly see Steve waiting for you. Getting out of your car, you slammed the door as he came closer.
“Stop,” you growled at him.
“What?” Steve questioned, pretending to be all innocent.
“You're stalking me. Stop it.” You continued into the building with Steve following you.
“Did we not communicate last night?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hear what I was saying?”
“Your wife screwed your best friend.”
“And then from that point on she no longer existed to me anymore.”
“You had marital amnesia?”
“No.” Steve reached out and grabbed your arm, successfully stopping you. “Come on I bared my soul to you last night.”
“It's not enough.”
“How can that be not enough?”
“When you waited 2 months to tell me and I had to find out by her showing up, all leggy and fabulous and telling me herself, you pulled the plug. I'm a sink with an open drain. Anything that you say runs right out. There is no enough.” You pulled away hurrying inside with your friends after you.
“She probably could've picked a better metaphor,” Clint commented.
“Give her a break,” Scott said. “She’s got a hangover.”
With a huff, Steve followed. Tony, who was also coming in, quickly caught up to him.
“Dr. Rogers!” He called.
“Dr. Stark,” Steve replied.
“We have an organ donor coming in this afternoon. We're doing a harvest.”
“Commendable, but—“
“In OR one at four.”
“I’m in OR one at four.”
“Your surgery is non-critical.”
“You can’t bump me!”
“As Chief, I can. You’ll be first up tomorrow.”
“Interim Chief. Bump somebody else!”
“You’re in the OR we need.”
“Why can’t the harvest be done somewhere else?”
“Cause the donor’s coming in from a small facility. We have the location, the airport nearby and the staff. Your surgery is rescheduled.” Then Tony turned, heading away.
“I’m not done talking about this, Stark!”
“Well, I am! See ya around Rogers!”
~~~
Rounds weren’t too bad, especially because you successfully ignored both Peggy and Steve. It even became slightly better when Gamora called you in for a bowel obstruction. Except the guy wouldn’t tell you what he ingested.
“You know, Mr. Sanders, it would be easier if you just told us what you ingested,” you pried, taking him to radiology. “We’ll know anyone, once we see the films.”
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Mr. Sanders responded.
“Mr. Sanders, whatever you’ve ingested could kill you. Are you sure you don’t just want to tell me?”
“It might offend you.”
“It might? Is it drugs?”
“No.”
“Mr. Sanders.”
“It’s not drugs, I promise.”
“Well, good, I’m glad.”
“I… Nope, not going to tell you.”
“Fine by me. We just reached radiology, so I’m going to find out anyway.”
It wasn’t long before Mr. Sanders was back in his room and the radiologist had found you with the scans.
“It’s drugs,” the radiologist stated handing the scans over to you. “Looks like at least 13 small balloons in the bowel. My guess, cocaine.”
“Hmm,” you hummed, holding up the scans up to the light.
They didn’t totally look like balloons, so you weren’t completely convinced. Before you made any judgement calls, you found Gamora.
“It’s drugs,” you told her, handing her the scans.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered, placing the scans onto a screen. “One burst and he’s dead in minutes. Okay, what do we do?”
“Run his bowel.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Running the bowel entails removing all 36 feet of the intestine from the body cavity, hand searching for the balloons and then cutting them out.”
“Good. Book an OR and get two other interns on board, need all the hands we can get.”
“Dr. Gamora,” Y/N called as Gamora tired to leave.
“Yes?”
“Are you sure they’re balloons?”
“You have reason to believe they’re not?”
“Well, the more I look the more I realize that this one,” you pointed to the scans, “has a face.” Gamora looked closer. “And this one… they all do.”
“I’ll be damned. They’re Barbies. He swallowed 13 Barbie doll heads.”
~~~
“Barbie heads?” Scott repeated after you told him, Natasha, and Peter what happened.
“Yeah,” you responded. “And Gamora wants two of you to join us in surgery.”
“I’m already booked.”
“I can do it,” Natasha said.
“Me too,” Peter said.
“My foster mothers used to buy me Barbie dolls. All sorts of them.”
“I also wanted one,” you added. “My parents never let me.”
“I dissected them. Cut off their arms, shaved their heads.”
“You’re a little scary,” Scott stated. “You know that?”
“I try.”
“Sounds like there’s a sick and twisted story behind this,” Peter said.
“No, they’re sexist, distorted devil toys that create unrealistic expectations carrying to the porn driven minds of men,” Natasha expressed.
“You swallow a bitter pill this morning, Romanoff?” Gamora questioned, coming up to you interns. “They’re just dolls. Quill, call for a psych consult. Then see if he has family.”
“Should I still book the OR?” You wondered.
“Blocked bowels become necrotic bowels. Check with Dr. Stark, see if we can bump someone. Those Barbies gotta come out today.”
~~~
Gamora had given Clint the impossible assignment to revive a patient. And, unfortunately for him, he was stuck with Laura.
“Any family members waiting?” He asked as he stapled up the man’s chest.
“Still trying to reach them,” Laura responded.
“Good. Well, I mean, not good that we haven’t reached anyone. Good that I don’t have to, uh…”
“It’s always hard.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry about Peter.”
“It’s fine. It’s good. No need to talk about it.”
“You do understand that I had sex with him before you, not during, right? Because when you and I were together—“
“I understand.”
“I just wanted to clear the air.”
“Oh, it’s clear. Perfectly clear… okay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“And about the syphilis—“
“We really on’t have to talk about it.”
“Which is, I mean, I didn’t know I had it. I definitely should have, I’m a nurse. Like, there was a sore and I was all itchy.”
“Okay!” He backed away almost knocked the tray beside him over. “You know I, uh, got it. You know things happen.” He moved to the door, away from Laura.
“They really do. Things you wish you could change.”
Clint’s pager rang and he looked down. “It’s the Chief, I gotta take this.”
“Sure… Clint.”
“Yes?”
“You have to call it.”
“Call it?”
“Him.”
“Oh, yeah.” He looked at his watch. “Time of death 1:37.” He turned to leave again.
“And, Clint,” he paused, not turning around this time, “if we could, I wouldn’t mind trying again.”
“Maybe… some day…”
~~~
Tony was walking down the hall with Maria, going over the donor surgery.
“When is the donor getting here?” He asked.
“Should be here at 3. Harvest team’s not heir way in.”
“I also need to touch base with the transplant center about a patient here getting his son’s liver.”
You walked up. “Dr. Stark,” you called. “Dr. Gamora needs an OR and they’re all booked.”
“For?”
“An emergent bowel obstruction.” She handed him the scans.
“Drugs?”
“Barbie heads. 13 of them.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
Maria looked at the films. “I can see their little faces,” she commented. “That patient must have serious issues.”
“Hill, can your hernia in 1 be bumped?” Tony asked.
“Most likely.”
“Do it.”
“On it.” Maria left.
“Thank you, Dr. Stark,” you said, moving to go.
Tony grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “Y/N, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not. I’m really fine.” And you pulled away.
~~~
You, Gamora, and a doctor from psych were currently discussing the psych evaluation on Mr. Sanders.
“He’s not talking. It could be pica,” the psych doctor stated. “Doubtful for a man his age. Maybe an oedipal complex or an idolization of the doll as his partners. Or it could be that he simply enjoys it.”
“Now I've seen a lot of strange things in strange places but how does he enjoy this?” Gamora questioned.
“He’d enjoy it when they came out.”
“I didn’t need to hear that.”
“Dr. L/N,” Peggy called as she walked back. “May I speak with you for a moment?” You looked at Gamora for help.
“Don’t look at me. I’m not gonna help you.”
With a sigh, you went to Peggy and the two of you began walking away.
“I assume he told you why he left me,” she said.
Annoyed, you stopped in front of her. “Look, Dr. Rogers, will all do respect, this has nothing to do with me,” you said.
“Really? So you didn’t take him back. Good girl.”
“And int he future, I’d appreciate it if we could keep our relationship strictly professional.” You walked away.
“Y/N!” You stopped and turned back slightly to give Peggy your attention. “Sometimes people do desperate things to get someone’s attention.” You shook your head and started walking again. “There are two sides to every story!”
~~~
You, Peter, and Scott arrived at lunch first. The three of you picked a large table farthest away from the others.
“Look what I went out and got,” Peter said, putting a grocery bag on the table. Opening the bag, he revealed 13 headless Barbie dolls.
“Really, Quill?” You wondered.
“That’s gross,” Scott cringed.
“I think it’s funny,” Peter said, smiling, as he laid them out on the table.
“Of course you do,” you muttered.
“Oh! That is sick!” Clint commented as him, Natasha, and Val walked up.
“Who would do that?” Val asked. They looked to see Peter smiling.
“Oh, look!” Natasha said, picking up a doll. “See Barbie fly.” She throw it at Peter, who ducked.
“Hey, Clint,” Laura greeted, walking by.
“Hey,” he replied, sitting down at not looking at you. The interns all gave him a look. “What?”
“She was trying to make up with you, Clint,” you told him. “You should go eat with her.”
“No, I shouldn’t…. No.”
“She’s cute and she likes you,” Scott said.
“You shouldn’t let a little syph get in the way of that,” Val added.
“It’s not the syph,” Clint insisted.
“It’s so the syph,” Natasha said.
“It’s not the syph!”
“Then what is it?” Val asked. Clint didn’t answer, looking down. “Oh.”
“What?” You wondered. Clint simply shrugged. “What is it?”
“There’s this other girl,” Val responded.
“Val!” Clint exclaimed.
“Other girl?” Natasha questioned. “You have another girl?!”
“He hasn’t told her that he likes her yet,” Val said.
“Val!” Clint exclaimed again. “This isn’t high school.”
“Clint has a little crush.”
“I do not… It’s a thing, a very personal thing. One day I would like to build on this thing with this other girl—woman. She’s all woman.���
“What are you doing, Clint?” You asked, slightly harsh.
“I-I don’t—“
“With Laura. What are you doing with her?”
“Oh. Nothing.”
“You’re letting her think you’re emotionally available. You’re letting her think she has a chance. And there is nothing worse in the world than think you have a chance when you really don’t!”
“Y/N is right,” Natasha said. “Tell her that there’s someone else. And tell her why, Clint. I mean— I mean at least give her the chance to have some feelings about it!”
“Why are you both yelling at me?” Clint asked.
“Because of the estrogen Clint! Because of all the estrogen!”
~~~
“Was it an act of desperation?” You asked Mr. Sanders as you headed into his surgery.
“Not at all,” he replied.
“Something to attract attention?”
“No.”
“I’m just trying to understand here. Why 13 doll heads?”
“Well because 14 would’ve been too much.”
You cringed and helped the nurses get Mr. Sanders on the operating table before going to scrub. It was Gamora, you, Peter, Val, and Natasha in the surgery.
“I think it has something to do with his mother,” Val suggested. “Maybe she always wanted a girl and gave him Barbie dolls because of it.”
“Ah, ah, I’ve got another one,” Peter said, showing the head in the intestine.
“Uh!” You groaned.
“Doyen clamps to Romanoff,” Gamora ordered. “L/N, push the head up to the incision.” You began to squeeze the doll head up through the intestine.
“Maybe his mother looked like a Barbie doll and he’s into voodoo,” Peter suggested. “Instead of sticking pins in… well…”
Dr. Stark entered the OR. “You good here?” He asked Gamora, observing you though.
“Couple more heads to go,” Gamora responded.
“Then L/N stay here. All you other interns I need you on other cases.”
You met Tony’s eyes before he walked out of the OR.
~~~
Clint was put on a case with Steve. They were about to go separate ways so that Clint could run labs, when Steve stopped. He looked back at Clint.
“Is she okay?” Steve asked.
“Who?” Clint questioned. He looked up at Steve and knew. “Y/N? She’s… hanging in there.”
“Look out for her.”
“I will.”
Then Steve walked away. Before Clint could get really far, Laura found him.
“The family of the guy we worked on this morning is here,” she told him.
“Thanks for letting me know,” Clint responded.
“Clint, I just want an answers, so that I can get on with my life if I need to.”
“Look, maybe I’m not over the Peter thing yet or the syph thing… And I really want to be, but there’s also another girl. And, to me, it doesn’t matter there’s this other guy and frankly I wouldn’t care if she gave me the Ebola virus… I like you, Laura, I really do. Just… I—“
“You’re going to need some time.”
“Yeah.” He kissed her forehead. “Thank you for understanding.”
~~~
Steve was standing alone in the elevator when Peggy walked in, both dressed to leave.
“Just when the day was improving,” he murmured.
“You told Y/N what happened?” Peggy asked.
“I did. Why? What did you tell her?”
“That sometimes people do desperate things to attract attention.”
“What? Wow. That's your side of this? That I didn't pay you enough attention. Is that you were thinking when you got naked with my best friend?”
Peggy reached over and stopped the elevator. "No, by that point I wasn't thinking at all Steve. By that point I was just scratching an itch. We got successful you and me. We got busy and we got lazy. We didn't even bother to fight any more Steve. And Bucky was there and I missed you. And now I'm sorry.” Steve restarted the elevator. “I’m more sorry than you can possibly imagine. But at least I'm talking to you about it.” The doors opened and Steve walked out. “Steve.”
“I’m a sink with an open drain, honey.”
~~~
“Did you get them all?” Mr. Sanders asked. You were checking on him, post-surgery.
“Yes,” you replied. “It wasn’t easy or very pleasant. How do you feel?”
“Empty… I feel empty now.”
“Yeah. I've been feeling a little bit of that myself lately.”
“I can tell.”
“Mr. Sanders, why does eating doll heads fill you up? What’s the satisfaction?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Would it be too much information?”
“Might.”
“Maybe I’m better left in the dark.”
next chapter >
I leave for Disney World in a week. It is the last big family vacation that I will be on for a while. Because of that, I will not be on tumblr March 19th through March 24th. I will actually be deleting the app so that it’s not a distraction.
Most likely, nothing will be posted during that time. If something is, it will have been queued up. Things that are posted while I’m out of town will not have tag lists attached. I will put this note in all the fic posts until then.
So do not come at me for spending time with my family instead of including the tag list. (I say that knowing that people won’t care and still come at me.... be respectful and get over yourself.)
If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagine#Steve Rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rodgers x reader#steve rodgers imagine#the avengers x reader#avengers x reader#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#greys anatomy au#Marvel AU#marvel fanfiction
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Hanafuda || Amane Yugi
(Part 4 of 10)
genre: fluff, school, slice of life, modern au (where all wonders live)
warning: cursing
summary: amane yugi spends his school days skipping classes until he meets [name] [surname], a student from the other class, who was also skipping classes and eventually the two of them formed a platonic friendship. cutting classes and playing hanafuda together strengthens their friendship but soon unexpected feelings blossom between the two.
“I don't know how I will face her...” Amane was wiping one of the tables in the cafe he's working in. It's a donut cafe, no wonder why he chose that. “Is [name]-san mad at me?”
The two teens decided to take the whole class out of awkwardness. “Yo, Yugi-san!” one of his seniors playfully smacked his back. “You've been sputtering nonsense while blushing, you okay lil bud?”
“It's no big deal Senpai.” Amane sheepishly laughs, rubbing the back of his neck with imaginary flowers surrounding him. Akaji is Amane's senior who is in college and probably the only person he could talk to in the cafe.
“Hm.” Akaji took a seat and skeptically looked at Amane. “My gut instincts told me you're having girl problems.”
“S-Senpai!” Amane swatted his hand while chuckling nervously. Currently, he's having problems wondering what was [name]'s reaction when he tried to kiss her.
Akaji grinned, putting his legs on top of the table as he crossed his arms. “Girl problems then, I knew this day would come—ow?!”
“Ah, Good evening! Matsubara-senpai!” Amane bowed when the sky blue-haired girl whacked the back of Akaji's head.
“Good evening to you too, Yugi-kouhai.” Matsubara greeted him back in a stern tone. Akaji rubbed the back of his head and gave the female a sour look. “You should set a better example towards your juniors, Houta!” she scolded.
“I was about to tell him some advice, Kanon.” Akaji deadpanned. Matsubara was Akaji's childhood friend, they're both in college but they go to different schools. “Looks like Yugi-san has a crush on someone from his school.”
“So what if I do?” Amane retorted back.
“Stop it.” Matsubara gave Akaji a cold glare to prevent him from teasing Amane even further. “It's normal to have a crush on someone from school, besides we've been through that phase.”
Amane slumped his shoulders while pouting slightly. Asking advice from his seniors from work is a handful, Akaji is someone who would give bad but useful advice while Matsubara, being a calm and collected woman, is the one telling them whether you should follow his ways. “I do have a crush on someone from school...”
“But I may have made things awkward between us.”
“What did you do though?” Akaji asks.
“I almost kissed her...” Amane mumbled which Matsubara and Akaji heard him. Akaji lets out a small snicker, earning a pinch from his childhood friend. “So I decided to go to class without saying a word to her.”
“I think she hates me now.” Amane covered his face. Matsubara stayed behind the counter as a cashier. Akaji stood up to stretch his arms. Amane pulled out his phone to check out the time. It was already 6:17 pm.
“Who's that on your wallpaper?” Akaji places his arm on top of Amane's head while looking at his phone.
“Akaji-senpai!” Amane hid his phone from the redhead quickly. Akaji snickered mischievously at his embarrassed junior. Akaji is like that one friend who had polished nails and hoops who knows all sorts of tea. “I-It's none of your business—”
“Houta!” Akaji flinched at the blue-haired girl's voice coming from the counter. “Give the kid some personal space!”
“Isn't Yugi like 16?”
“Guys, guys, cut it off.” Amane prevents them from bickering by raising his left hand like a cop. Sometimes you would think that Amane is the mature one in the trio yet he was dubbed as childish from [name]. “We don't want customers to think that the two of you aren't working together.”
Amane adjusts his apron wrapped around his hips. He brushes his choppy locks between his fingers while licking his lips. The door opened with a ringing of the small bell. “Welcome—[name]-san?!”
[name] entered the cafe with eyes of bewilderment as her eyes landed on Amane. She was wearing an unzipped oversized hoodie, a tucked-in white shirt, and a denim skirt. “E-Eh? A-Amane-kun?!” she stammered.
Her little brother, who's in grade school, was standing next to her. “Neechan?” Jiro asked, looking up to his big sister. The siblings sat at a table near the counter. Amane couldn't look at [name] in the eye without blushing.
“So you work here, Amane-kun?” [name] asked in a slightly teasing tone. Amane averted his gaze while holding the notepad, waiting for [name]'s order. “Not gonna lie, your outfit suits you.”
“I told you it's embarrassing.”
“I said it's not, you're pretty handsome Amane-kun.” [name] convinces him otherwise. Amane's heart skipped a beat and wrote down [name]'s order. “You know, I almost cried recently...”
“Why did you cry?” Amane worryingly asks [name] until he realizes why. He went to the bathroom and never came back to the rooftop since he decided to take classes to avoid her. He didn't mean to do it, it's just that he's too flustered. “Wanna sort things out privately?”
“That sounded like a booty call to me—”
“Houta, you ass!” Matsubara pulled on to Akaji's ear, pinching it painfully. “There's a kid!”
[name] nodded slowly in Amane's direction. She told Jiro that she needed to sort things out with Amane so that they could go back to being best friends again. The two of them went to the locker room. “I'm sorry,” Amane apologizes. “I didn't come back, it was an accident I swear—”
“I thought you hate me or something...” [name] started to tear up. Amane died a little inside because of how precious she is, like, you just gotta protect [name].
“No, no.” Amane cupped her cheeks while smiling fondly at [name]. “I will never hate you, [name]-san.”
“Really?” [name] asked while placing her palms on top of Amane's warm hands. Amane hummed in response, he doesn't hate [name], how could he hate her if she keeps making him fall for her even more?
“You're too cute, I swear to god~” Amane nuzzled his nose against [name]'s, eliciting a blissful giggle from the female. “By the way, I'm still sorry about before I invaded your personal space.”
“It's fine.” [name]'s face lit up with happiness with a warm blush enveloping on her mochi cheeks. “You can be affectionate and clingy around me. I felt really warm when you gave me that hug.”
“Then, will a kiss on the cheek suffice~?”
“I'll just hug you—” Amane interrupts her by pressing a kiss on her cheek. [name] froze yet she was warm. Amane chuckled at her reaction, so he gave her a closed eye grin.
“They say kisses heal a burn so your whole face is burning, can't help it~” He says at her blushing state, then he lightly pinches her cheek. “Cute~”
“Okay, okay, that's enough—” [name] pried his hand off her cheek. Amane obliged and pulled his hand away. “So we're good now?”
“Always~!” Amane dusted off his apron. “I gotta go work now or Akaji-senpai will get the wrong idea if we take too long.”
Amane turned around to leave the locker room. [name] twiddled her fingers while smiling. “You know, it would have been better if you continued it...” she mumbled.
“Hm?” He turned his head back to [name]'s direction. Amane was sure she had said something but he couldn't make out what he had heard. “Were you saying something?”
“Nothing.” [name] flails her hands with a quick smile to reassure him that it wasn't a big deal. Amane sighed in relief and headed out first as [name] followed.
“Neechan!” Jiro waved his french fries to get [name]'s attention. Her eyes brightened as she immediately went over to her little brother. “I watched your milk tea and donuts by the way.”
“Thanks, kid.” [name] ruffled his hair and sat back down to her seat as she grabbed her milk tea with pearls. “Sorry I took longer, I had to sort things out with Amane-kun.”
“Is he your boyfriend Neechan?”
[name] choked on the pearl when Jiro asked if Amane was her boyfriend. “J-Jiro—!” she scolded between coughs. “Why so sudden?”
“Here, have some fries Oneechan.” Jiro offered her some of his fries. Amane chuckled at their dynamic, to think that [name] was also an older sibling is admirable.
“He's your younger brother?” Amane grabbed a chair and sat in front of their table.
“Yeah,” [name] replied. “Jiro [surname], he's 5th grade.”
“Nii-chan, want some?” Jiro handed Amane a donut. Amane quickly thanked the little boy and received the donut, munching it gratefully. “Ah, Oneechan! A classmate of mine is gonna come over tomorrow!”
“Ne, Amane-kun.”
“Hm?”
“When's your shift over?” [name] asked.
“Later at 7:00 pm, why?” Amane questioned her back.
“I was wondering if you'd like to come over to my house...”
Amane choked internally. He looked at [name] in pure disbelief, shakily pointing a finger at her. “You want me to come over?” he asked.
“I hope you don't mind, it's okay if you decline of course.” [name] swats her hands in front of Amane. “You're probably busy after this.”
“Maybe some other time, [name].” Amane answers, it made [name] a little bit sad but it's fine nonetheless. Amane felt kind of bad for declining her request of coming over. He has his own life too, like taking care of his brother or doing the housework. But then an idea came to mind. “I'll walk you two home instead.”
“Is that okay for you, though?”
“I don't want you to go alone at night, it might be dangerous.” Amane insists. [name] nodded and sipped on her milk tea slowly. He slowly averted his gaze with a small blush on his face. “And I can't afford to lose you...” he murmured.
[name]’s cheeks warmed at his sudden words. She glances away from the amber-eyed boy and continues to sip on her milk tea to compose herself before she can face him again. Amane shyly stares at [name]. He lets out an exaggerated sigh, thinking to himself that he was crushing so damn hard on [name].
Amane pulls out his phone from the pocket of his apron. “Ah, [name]-san,” The amber-eyed boy looked at the time. “My shift is finished, come on, let's get you two home.”
“We'll wait for you outside.” [name] stands up from the table along with her little brother. Amane cleaned up the table with a stupid in loved smile upon his strikingly perfect visuals.
Akaji rests his elbow on top of Amane's choppy hair. “So, that's your crush?” he asked with a teasing tone. Amane blushes and pried his senior's arm off his head. “It's amusing seeing you being in love~”
“Then what if she is my crush?” Amane glared at him as his whole face was heating up like crazy. He let out a small 'hmph' from his lips and headed over to the locker room.
[name] was waiting outside, carrying her brother's school bag while humming. Amane got out of the cafe and tiredly smiled at her. “Sorry if I take too long.”
“No worries.” [name] reassured the boy. “Come on, let's go.”
The three started to walk together in the night. Amane side-eyed the female next to him and his amber eyes trailed down to her hand. ‘Am I in love with [name]?’
Amane subtly wrapped his pinky finger around [name]'s while looking away. ‘Amane what the actual crumbs are you doing—? Should I pull away—?’
[name] clasps his gentle hand, her face warms along with her ears. The two teens averted their glimpses from each other as they continued walking alongside without the knowledge of her little brother. Amane is definitely feeling butterflies in his very own stomach, maybe this isn’t platonic at all since he’s catching feelings.
“Ah, we’re here now,” [name]’s eyes trailed down to his hand that was still interlocked with hers. Amane seems he doesn't want to let go of her gentle hand. “Amane-kun, your hand…”
“Sorry!” The choppy haired boy quickly drew back his hand and scratched his cheek. [name] beckoned her brother to go back inside the apartment just to have an alone time with Amane. Now, the two of them grew silent waiting on who will talk first.
Fate decided, Amane should speak. “No hard feelings?” he winced, shrugging his shoulder like a dork he is. Y/n smiled softly and spread her arms.
“Hug?” she asked. Amane ran in her arms and gave her a big hug, pressing his cheek against hers and squealed a bit as. “Hey Amane-kun?”
“Yeah?” His face warms up.
“I like you.”
Amane pulled away from the hug to look at her while processing what the girl had said. “So I'm going to stay by your side no matter what.” then she swatted her hands to betray her feelings. “Of course I meant it as a friend thing—”
“I like you too, Y/n-san.” He reached over to mess with her hair. “You’re the first girl who ever told me that she liked me, I appreciate that.”
“I gotta go home now,” Amane pats her shoulders and walks away a bit. “I'll be making lunch for us two, so better look forward to it~”
Y/n gave him one last smile. “Always,”
taglist: @closetweebsmh @closetwaffle @beonanagyu
#tbhk#jibaku shounen hanako kun#amane yugi#hanako x reader#amane yugi x reader#yugi amane x reader#yugi amane#amane#tbhk amane#tbhk hanako#jshk hanako kun#jshk hanako#hanako kun#hanako#toilet bound hanako kun#jshk#jshk x reader
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Flower Shop AU, part 3
See part 2 here.
——
Monday morning found Bracken back at the shop again. He normally had Sundays and Mondays off, but the sister who worked with him and their mother had had a conflict that day and asked him to cover her shift. “Besides,” she’d reasoned, “You’re always there, anyway.”
He’d made to protest that, despite her comments, he did in fact have a social life (not an entirely truthful statement), but then he saw her excited face and remembered that she was planning to surprise her girlfriend with a lunchtime marriage proposal, so he ultimately smiled and told her he’d be happy to take her shift if she promised to bring his soon-to-be sister-in-law over that night for dinner.
Today’s list of tasks included signing for a delivery of several different types of lilies, making some general “have a good day” and “I love you” bouquets for passersby who might wish to stop inside and pick up some flowers for their friend or significant other during the day, put together a special birthday order to be delivered tomorrow, purchase more flowers which would be needed for a couple of large arrangements that had been ordered for an upcoming funeral, call a few customers to let them know their orders were ready to pick up, and of course, more corsages and boutonnières for the coming weekend. His father would be arriving later that morning to assist, but Bracken always opened the shop, so he’d be on his own for another two or three hours.
Bracken took a peek into one of the refrigeration units inside the shop and pulled out two vases with arranged flowers and colorful ribbons. He placed those on top of the front counter and returned twice more to pull out a total of four additional vases, all of which he placed on the countertop. His trained and careful eye examined each of the arrangements to check for droopy buds, wilting leaves or other problems, but he found none; his mother had assembled these particular arrangements, and her work was flawless as usual. He called the first customer to let them know their order was ready to be picked up, and was midway through dialing the second customer’s phone number when a flurry of motion caught his eye and caused him to turn his attention to the street outside. The shop itself was located alongside a relatively busy street which usually experienced a lot of pedestrian, bicycle and vehicle traffic, but Bracken’s jaw dropped when he saw what had managed to pull him out of his work mindset.
Kendra. She was being pulled by a taller man - a bit roughly, Bracken noted, and also very obviously against her will - from the cafe across the street toward a car which had been parked not far from the very flower shop where Bracken was located.
Well. That wasn’t going to stand.
He was out the door in a flash, without bothering to lock up. Kendra looked like she was in trouble, and although he still didn’t really know her, he’d be damned if he sat back and witnessed anyone being forced to go anywhere or do anything against their will.
“You think that was funny?!” Bracken heard the man yell at her. “You leave those crazy ass flowers on my doorstep, then ghost me all weekend?! What the hell is your problem?!”
“Leave me alone!” she cried as she struggled to break free of his hold on her. “Stop!”
Run faster.
“Hey! Kendra!” Bracken called as he ran. His hail grabbed the attention of both parties, and he managed to intercept them before they made it all the way to what Bracken figured was the man’s car.
“Get lost,” the man told him.
“Let me go!” Kendra shouted, tears streaming down her face.
Bracken placed his hands on top of Kendra’s arm, then pried the man’s hand off of her and set her free. “The lady wishes for you to leave her alone,” he said simply. The man, who had dark, curly hair and what would probably have been handsome features if his face weren’t contorted in rage, yanked his hand out of Bracken’s grasp and moved to take hold of Kendra again. Bracken stepped between them, effectively blocking the man’s access to Kendra with his own body. “Excuse me,” he said. “I don’t know who you are, but it’s time for you to leave.”
“I told you to get lost,” the man positively seethed. He looked like he was going to hit Bracken, who was prepared to defend himself, when another man suddenly dashed in front of Bracken and knocked Kendra’s assailant to the ground. Bracken knew the newcomer - his name was Warren, and he and his brother owned the cafe across the street.
“Who the hell do you think you are, dragging Kendra around like a ragdoll?!” Warren yelled. “I warned you. I straight up warned you. Get out of here. If you know what’s good for you, you will never come around here again. Got it?!”
The man on the ground held a hand to his cheek. Bracken could see a bruise already forming below his eye. “You’re psychotic,” he said to Warren.
“And you’re an astounding piece of trash. If I hear about you hurting Kendra ever again, you’ll be buried trash. Have I made myself clear?” Warren’s face was flushed, and his fists quivered with what Bracken recognized as barely-concealed rage.
Bracken turned toward Kendra, whose cheeks were wet from continued tears and who also cradled her arm - the one the man had grabbed - in front of her. “Are you injured?” he asked as gently as he could.
She shook her head no.
“Do me a favor and get her out of here, Bracken,” Warren said, his eyes trained on the guy who was still lying on the ground. “I’m going to stand here and make sure this loser leaves.”
A small crowd of people were gathering to watch the show, and Bracken agreed that it would be best to remove Kendra from the situation. With a careful hand, he lightly touched her back and gestured toward the flower shop. “Would you like to come inside for a moment?” he asked.
Kendra didn’t verbally respond, but she let him guide her away from the scene and into the store. Bracken led her into the back room, the one he and his family primarily used to store their tools and miscellaneous supplies (vases, plastic wrappings, ribbons, the die-cut machine and materials, shears and scissors, etc.) and pulled out a chair for her to sit on. He then retrieved a couple of water bottles from the refrigerator in that room and passed one to her. She accepted it, but didn’t say anything, and continued to weep.
Concern flooded Bracken’s brain. He didn’t know who that guy had been, but after witnessing the altercation outside, he could understand why Kendra wasn’t in a condition to speak at the moment. “May I see your arm?” he asked.
Kendra hesitated, then stretched her arm out in front of her. It was red around her wrist, and looked tender. He wouldn’t be surprised if bruises started to form later. “It looks alright,” he stated. “I don’t have any ice, unfortunately, but I do have another chilled water bottle I can offer you, if you’d like to use it as a cold compress for now.”
“Th-th-thank y-you,” she gasped as she tried to control her sobs.
His heart went out to her. Was it inappropriate for him to hug her? Probably. She didn’t know him! And he was positive that he was making her feel awkward while he just stood there and watched her cry. He placed a tentative hand on her upper arm. “Would you like to have some time by yourself?”
She gave an emphatic nod at that question.
Bracken withdrew his hand and said, “You’re safe here. Stay as long as you need to. I can order in lunch for the both of us, later, if you’d like. My father will be here in a couple of hours, but I can tell him to leave you alone.” He cast his gaze around the room and found a few boxes of tissues, opened one, and set it down on a countertop near Kendra. “For you,” he said. “I’ll be right outside this door, making phone calls and otherwise managing the front. Feel free to call for me if you need anything.”
A shaky “thank you” was received, and he pulled the door shut as he exited. Later, when she’d calmed down, perhaps he’d ask her some of the questions which were bouncing around in his mind. Who was that guy? Did she want to press charges? Get a restraining order? Was her house safe from him? What had she been doing around this area?
Not that he was upset she’d been right outside - he was actually glad for that. He had no idea how she knew Warren, and couldn’t have predicted his involvement, but at the very least, Bracken was glad to have been able to help in some way.
Speaking of Warren. His entrance into the store caused the little bells at the front to ring. Bracken greeted him and said, “She’s safe, she’s in the back room here,” and pointed to the door behind him. “She wanted some privacy.”
“Thanks for your help out there,” Warren said. “That piece of shit finally fled the scene after he screamed some more. Dumbass thinks he can hurt Kendra. She’ll be staying with me, at least until he’s no longer a threat. Idiot.”
“I’m glad she has someone like you to help her,” Bracken replied. “Her wrist, where she was being pulled around, may start to bruise later. I didn’t notice any other injuries, thankfully.”
Warren placed a hand on Bracken’s shoulder. “Seriously,” he reiterated. “Thank you for your help. If you hadn’t intervened…” he trailed off. “You gave me the extra few seconds I needed in order to jump over some customers and get out there. Thanks again.”
“It was no trouble,” Bracken said. “I couldn’t watch that happen and not do something about it. Kendra doesn’t deserve that treatment. No one does.”
“It was trouble, but I’m grateful you were there.” Warren removed his hand. “Is it okay if I go see her?”
“Be my guest,” Bracken replied. “If you know her well, I really think she could use a hug.”
“That girl is my honorary baby sister,” he said. “She’ll get as many hugs as she wants, and then I’m taking her to my house where she’ll get all the comfort food she could ever need, along with the TV remote. I’ll give her the rest of the week off, if she wants.”
“She works for you?” Bracken asked, unprepared for that particular realization. She worked across the street?
“Yeah,” Warren said. “That douchebag showed up and took hold of her right when she was walking in for her shift. Busiest time of the day. She didn’t even make it to the front door.” He looked at the door behind Bracken again, who caught his cue.
“Go right inside,” Bracken told him. “Stay as long as you’d like.”
“Thanks again,” Warren repeated. “Seriously. Thank you.”
It wasn’t much longer before Warren and Kendra exited the flower shop, with the former shielding the latter from view. Bracken bid them both farewell, and best wishes, then resumed making phone calls to his customers.
Later that afternoon, shortly before Bracken left for the day, an email popped into the store’s mailbox. He recognized it as an answer to one of the surveys they always sent out after someone picked up their order. This one was from Kendra.
A five-star ranking, accompanied by the simple words, Thank you.
He broke protocol and responded back to her. You’re welcome. Please be safe.
—————
Read part 4 here!
#brackendra#fablehaven#aerinm writes#flower shop au#part 4 is mostly written already as well#apparently this is my therapy project 🤷♀️#imma go back to work now
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Eddie Is On Drunk Buck Duties
Request: Can you do buddie? “I’ll go home, but it’s not home unless you’re there…” and “Stay with me.”
A/N: Sure! Enjoy drunk, needy Buck and concerned Eddie. Would anyone be interested in the morning after as a fic? Prior knowledge to know before reading the fic- both boys have become aware of their own attractions to the other, but haven’t realised their feelings are mutual yet.
Summary: After a drinking game with Chimney, Buck is in no state to make his own way home. Lucky for him, Eddie wouldn’t let anything hurt a hair on his head, so he see’s to it personally that drunk, needy Buck makes it home safely.
Warnings: Mentions of drinking and intoxication.
“They are the worst influences on each other,” Maddie deadpanned,
“I know.”
Eddie leant back against a bar table with her and Hen as they watched Buck and Chimney down yet another drink each. He missed how the contest started, but Eddie knew them well enough to know Chimney would have made a cheeky offhand comment, and Buck blew it out of proportion into a game.
“I mean, I like that they get along and tease each other like family,” Maddie continued, “but do they have to bond over alcohol?”
“Their heads are gonna be sore tomorrow,” Hen shook her head,
“They shouldn’t be drinking this much.”
Eddie didn’t exactly say it to anyone in particular. It was more of a statement. A fact. Chimney was too sensible for this, and Buck... he was too determined to win to end this game safely. Eddie knew he had to end it now before they were both passed out on the floor.
Eddie downed the last sip of his own drink before he stood up. A small crowd had gathered around the boys with the team, and Eddie pushed through them all, making way for Maddie as she followed.
Eddie went straight for Buck, grabbing the boy by the shoulders, getting his attention.
“Come on, it’s time to go,”
“What? No!” Buck resisted, “I’m about to annihilate Chimney,”
“You’re both about to be annihilated- when you’re throwing up on each other on the floor and we’re admitting you to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. Come on,”
“You’re no fun,” Buck complained, but let Eddie drag him to his feet anyway, “next time, I’ll beat you,” Buck pointed at Chim,
“Whatever you say, Buckaroo.”
Buck was no help at all as Eddie walked them towards the car. He barely held his own weight up, and certainly could not walk in a straight line, or even put one steady foot in front of the other. Eddie stumbled with him out of the bar and into the car park, an arm around Buck’s waist.
“You good to get him home, Eddie?” Maddie asked.
It was a stupid question, he felt. He wouldn’t ever let anything happen to her brother, but he understood it came from sisterly concern.
“Yeah, I’m good... I think the drive home will settle him, tire him out before we get there. Like a baby,”
“I’m not a baby,” Buck denied,
“Are you sure?” Eddie teased him just a little bit,
“Uh... I think so?”
Eddie chuckled as he managed to get them down the steps with neither of them tripping. By the time they had reached the car, they’d quickened to an almost normal pace, and Eddie did not look forward to going through the exact same thing when they got back to Buck’s apartment.
“Where are we going?” Buck asked when Eddie opened his door,
“Home,”
“What? No! Let’s go out dancing,” Buck grabbed Eddie’s waist,
Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to, Eddie pried his hands away, “Come on, Buck...”
“The night’s still young,”
“It’s time to go home now,”
“But I’m not ready,” Buck whined.
Eddie rolled his eyes, and tried to push Buck into the passenger seat, but he resisted each time, and now they were in some kind of tug of war half in the car.
“Come on, Eddie, live a little!”
“Tell you what, if you still want to go dancing tomorrow when you’re sober, we can talk about it, but only if you get in the car,”
Buck stopped resisting him, “really? I’ve always wanted to see you dance,”
“I know, so sit in the car so I can take you home,”
“Fine,” Buck sat himself up in the seat and reached for his seat belt, “I’ll go home, but it’s not home unless you’re there…”
Eddie was caught a little off guard as Buck’s blue eyes stared at him with an honesty no one could muster up sober. It almost flawed him. Eddie didn’t have the words to say back, so instead he closed the door and made his way around to the drivers side.
He knew he couldn’t let Buck’s words just linger in the air like he didn’t hear them, or like they didn’t mean something to him too. The Diaz household certainly felt more like a home when there were three bodies instead of two. Eddie reached out and caressed Buck’s cheek, just for a moment before he started the engine and made the trip back to Buck’s apartment.
At first, Eddie wasn’t sure the car ride would help at all, Buck was talking a million miles an hour, but the last couple of blocks had settled him down just a little bit. Eddie hoped that they’d get out of the car and inside before Buck decided he was too tired and just crashed.
He jogged his way around the car to Buck’s door, and helped him settle steady on his feet.
“You’re such a gentleman,” Buck complimented,
“Thank you. Now let’s get you inside,”
“I don’t wanna go,” Buck shook his head and took a step back,
“Not again,” Eddie whined,
“I hate being here alone,”
“Fine. I’ll sleep on the couch, okay? Let’s just get inside,”
“No,” Buck crossed his arms,
“I’m not doing this with you, Evan.”
Before the other man could protest again, Eddie stepped forward and threw him over his shoulder, and made for the apartment. Buck pretended for a while that he was angry about it, but Eddie knew damn well that he actually loved being carried inside. A whole baby.
It had already been a big day, and Eddie was tired and Buck was heavy, but carrying him was far less painful for Eddie than trying to walk him had been. At least they’d make it in the door tonight this way. Though Eddie had forgotten just how many stairs there were up to Buck’s bed. If it were anyone else, they’d have slept on the couch that night, but Eddie was just a little too far gone for this boy, and he wanted him to be comfortable.
He set Buck straight down in his bed, and collected all the important items- put the house keys somewhere Buck would find them the next day, plugged his phone in to charge, set his wallet on the nightstand. Eddie even tugged the boys shirt off and made sure he took his pants off while he fetched a glass of water for Buck for the morning.
“Okay, you good?” Eddie asked, “I’m gonna go sleep on the couch,”
“Stay with me,” Buck pleaded.
He reached out to Eddie and caught a fistful of the man’s shirt.
Did Buck purposely try to made his life hard? Or was it genuinely all a coincidence? And why the fuck was he coming to like this stupid game they played back and worth? Being a little too close with each other, too affectionate, too intimate. Flirty.
Eddie sighed, dramatically so that Buck would notice, “Fine. Move over,”
“You’re gonna go to sleep in your jeans?” Buck looked disgusted,
“Well I didn’t bring anything else, I didn’t expect the night to end like this,”
“God,” there Buck was again with the disappointment, “second draw of the dresser. Get changed,”
“Fine, but the shows not free, so you’ll have to turn around,” Eddie joked,
“Like I haven’t seen it all before,” Buck mumbled, though complied and rolled over to burry his head in the pillow.
Eddie chose a simple pair of shorts and a top. He got changed before he really thought about it. Now right there on his chest he could smell Buck. The familiar scent all over the plain white t-shirt that probably coexisted in Buck’s draws with a hundred other identical ones.
Eddie tried to push the concept of wearing Buck’s clothes to the back of his mind as he crawled into bed beside the other boy. He could tell that Buck would be out in a minute or two, the man’s breath had already started to even out, a steady rise and fall as the covers moulded to his body.
“I’m finished changing now.”
Buck rolled over, and there they were again, Buck’s beautiful eyes burning into Eddie’s. Eddie couldn’t recall ever being able to be so comfortable with anyone like this- anyone he didn’t help to make, that is. He had never built this kind of trust and connection with someone he’d met. Sure, he’d get the odd flutter of butterfly’s in his tummy when it came to Buck, but never nervousness. It was so easy with him.
Eddie looked away to switch off the last light, and got himself comfortable under the covers, eyes barely closed before Buck was back to being disruptive again.
“Eddie?”
“Mm,”
“Will you spoon me?”
Fuck that sounded exciting, but Eddie also knew that in sober Buck’s mind, things may be different. Buck wanted attention and affection now, but would sober Buck like that? Would he be comfortable with the vulnerability he’d shown that night?
Eddie didn’t really get much of a say in it, since Buck grabbed his arm and wrapped it exactly where he wanted it. Eddie figured it couldn’t really be that bad, and decided to just go along with it. He hoped that Buck couldn’t feel his heart pounding as their bodies settled closer together, he didn’t need to be teased for it later.
Eddie was sure that he had never been so peaceful and slept so well. Something to cuddle in to, check. A beautiful boy who smelt amazing, check. That warmth of someone you love, double check. He could definitely get used to this, especially with sober Buck talking absolute nonsense until they fell asleep.
#Eddie Diaz#Evan Buckley#911#Buck#Buck x Eddie#buddie#writing#Eddie x Buck#Buck and Eddie#Eddie and Buck#911 prompt#buddie prompt#911 on fox#911 fox#9-1-1
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WIJ Day 3: Love
WOO the first actual prompt is here. This is a modern magic world heavily inspired by @0idril0 and @whumpywhumper‘s Nico & Markus/Lucien series respectively. I HIGHLY recommend you check them out. So this is meant to be an introduction to Pastor John/The Reverend, who is my first attempt at an intimate whumper. Thanks to @ashintheairlikesnow for inspiring the Reverend with Bram, def check out all her stuff if you haven’t
CW: religious whump, creepy whumper, whumper who doesn’t think they’re a whumper, kinda abusive relationship vibes, drugging, taking advantage of someone’s emotional state
John sits, listening to the record player in the corner crackle with the sounds of a congregation’s singing. His students tease him for being a ‘hipster’, but there’s something satisfying about their amateur voices, captured imperfectly, naturally, using a technology that reminds him of pottery, or weaving. Sound pressed into something physical, ethereality brought to his fingertips, his ears, across time.
It’s a pleasant evening all around. John savors every detail as he takes a sip of scotch - a gift from a colleague in Edinburgh - settling into the thick leather chair by the fireplace, just musing in his mind while he waits for the brownies to be done. Perhaps he should grade, or write a lecture, or work on his sermon. But these moments in time, of being in his body, of feeling fire in his throat as sparks flick out as his toes, these are God’s moments, moments of perfect creation and harmony.
But still, he isn’t bothered by the knock on his door, despite the late hour. The students know his door is always open. He’s become used to them coming to his couch after a late temptation, or perhaps a lapse in their faith. Perhaps just a personal dilemma. The community too, though they typically take the ‘door unlocked’ policy as is.
No, the timidness of the youngest in his flock always brings a smile. It seems no matter how many departmental or congregational dinners he hosts, how many times they come knocking, they always knock. It is part of their youth, not cemented in their beliefs, in knowing that God will provide. So he provides, until they can become sure, can understand how a trinity of a different kind, God, his Son, and their Pastor, will be there for them. They are lambs, learning to stand on their own legs, which is why this is his favorite place to shepherd.
“Coming!” He calls out, setting the glass carefully on a coaster before opening the thick door to the cottage. It takes a few blinks to clear his eyes from the rush of cold air that assaults them. The weather always seems to surprise him, just one of many things in this beautiful world.
But what doesn’t necessarily surprise him is to see, red-rimmed eyes, a flushed tear-tracked face delicately wrought in its complexion, set upon a lithe frame that hides immense strength, an immense spirit that positively glows normally with ash-blonde hair and bright gray-blue eyes. Faith. A sense of calm comes over him, a release of tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding for days.
“Oh, my girl, I was hoping you’d come by” Before she can get a word out, John wraps strong arms around her, enveloping her in a warm hug. Immediately he feels the telltale shake of her shoulders, small hands gripping the back of his sweater tightly, a damp spot right near his heart growing.
Yes, John expected this. For how long, he isn’t entirely sure. Perhaps, always. Perhaps, because somewhere in him, he knew God had bigger plans for them both.
Faith had been a special student to him, from her first year intro course in the Theology department. A bright girl, a good girl, who believed with her heart and soul in Jesus’ saving grace for even the most dastardly of sinners. He hadn’t recognized it well at the time, but even he had fallen prey to the negativity within the church, the ones who said Supernaturals were truly the devil incarnate, incapable of being saved.
But Faith, she took it upon herself to prove them all wrong. She’d been hesitant to propose her thesis to him, as her advisor. A piece to study the beliefs and communities of Supernaturals locally, from a theological and sociological perspective, in order to understand how those beliefs might be reconciled with modern Christianity. A piece that would allow for the Evangelical church she came from to see the same possibility of salvation she did. To choose love.
“It’s alright, shhh. Why don’t you come in? The brownies for tomorrow’s potluck are almost done. I’ll put on some tea, dandelion right?” Gently, he pried her away from him, thumbing tears as she sniffled away the last of her outburst.
“Thank you, Reverend. I just...I didn’t know where else to go. Yet.” The downcast of her eyes nearly breaks his heart at the cruelty of this world. For his fellow Christians had chosen to hate, to cast her out of their flock, after she bared her thesis, her work, no matter how unfinished. All because of what she was.
Peter 1 4:8 comes to his mind: Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.
So what if she was truly born Fae, a natural sinner of the largest proportions. Does her desire to be saved, to save others, to feel Jesus’ healing light not garner love in them?
Her desire, her faith, does in John’s chest, a warm feeling better than the finest scotch as he gently leads her to couch, leaving her with some tissues to compose herself.
The moment feels so right the longer he’s in it. The brownie timer goes off right as he enters the kitchen, and he pulls them out. Perfect. He leaves them to cool as he flicks on the kettle, fingers moving through his vast collection for just the right blend. Dandelion, reminiscent of shortbread cookies, Faith’s favorite. They’ve shared so many cups over late night thesis meetings, church group meetings, dinner meetings that the box has only one left. Pulling out the last packet, he tucks away in his mind to buy more boxes.
They’ll go through a lot he imagines, in the next few months. It’s easy to prepare, like a moment meant to be, as he lets the tea steep, adds two spoonfuls of sugar, and drops in the pills, stirring until they dissolve evenly.
He brings it all out, tea, brownies, to the couch, where she’s already claimed a throw. It’s good, he thinks, that she already feels at home here. It’ll be easier that way.
“Thank you,” her hands grip the warm mug, breathing in the steam, and he watches attentively as she takes a sip. “It’s been...I was scared. That you’d turn me away too”
“My dear, you have never had anything but love for Jesus and God in your heart. Why would I believe something like this would change that?”
Of course he had been worried, in the beginning of her thesis, that she would be swayed. That they would convince her with their wicked tongues, guile her with magic and false miracles, false idols. Yes, now that he looks back, perhaps he did see it all coming. No, she hadn’t been swayed.
But she’d swayed him. To believe in the possibility of truly saving those damned souls. So much that he’d begun his own research, his own plans, prepared for the possibility. And now, it appeared God’s plan was working perfectly, dropping her right on his doorstep on the eve of her transformation between worlds, an apostle for a new era
“Everyone else seems to think that, that this is wrong. How though? How can being who I am, the person God made me, be wrong?” Her voice is quiet in the night, barely above the crackling fire in its hoarseness, tinged still with tears.
“He does nothing wrong. He made you this way for a reason, so that you may show others. Think of it, your work, is this not His plan?” John tries to keep the excitement out of his voice, to remain calm, collected. Gentle. Yes, he must be gentle, to do this in love for the Lord.
She pauses, sipping more. “I...I don’t know. I just, I need some time, I think. I was walking to the bus stop when I passed your house and thought...I don’t know. I guess I hoped there’d be something I could come back to, when I was ready” Her eyes stare into the surface of the tea, growing distant. Tired. It’s working fast, he knows, likely due to her exhaustion from the past few days.
“It’s alright to not know. The Bible does not have all the answers, but it leads us to where we need to find them. Perhaps that’s why you came here. Why don’t you get some rest, stay here tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, a new chance for you to find your way.”
“Thank you, Reverend. That..that sounds nice. You’re right, I need to-o-o-o” the sentence is interrupted by a yawn and he chuckles.
“It sounds like the only thing you need right now is a good night’s rest. Come on, I promise this couch may be old, but she’ll service you well. She’s saved me from several late night grading sessions” Taking the tea, he lets her settle down, and grabs a quilt from the closet - a gift from an older parishioner - and tucks it around her.
“Goodnight, Faith. Sleep well, tomorrow will be a busy day” she mumbles something slurred, incomprehensible under the effect of the drug. Still, he sits and waits, gently petting the silky hair until her breathing fully evens out, deepens into a rhythm that could be a lullaby to itself in his ears.
So beautiful, so wonderful, so perfect. Truly, this is his and her purpose: to show that the souls of the supernatural can be saved through Jesus’ light.
It is with that thought that he picks up the limp bundle of girl, and carries her down into the basement.
Tags: @sableflynn @bleedingandfeverish @starry-whump @whumpmasinjuly(let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list for this series)
#whump#wijday3#wij#whumpmasinjuly#religious whump#christianity whump#drugging tw#whumper#fae whumpee#magical whumpee#modern magic#modern magic whump#whump writing#whump fic#OC whump#fae bb#Studying About That Good Ole way#Pastor John#is a hard man to write#I need to read me more JESUS#idk what I'm doing with this#but we're triyng#may rewrite this later on#but for now#meet my first real whumper character who DEFINITELY has his own thoughts#and I do not like them
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transcript.file//jfreeman_codingb//convo
[Emergency Program Active]
AdminJF: Heya B-)
CodingB: ...? Allen? Where's Joshua?
AdminJF: He's still asleep, just snoozin away.
CodingB: Still a-... Isn't it... late? Why are you up.
AdminJF: Had a nightmare
AdminJF: Couldn't get back to sleep
AdminJF: Figured a lil chatting with ya could do me some good.
CodingB: ... With... me?
CodingB: Wait a moment...
CodingB: Communications are offline... I didn't think that was possible...
AdminJF: Yeaaa, boy like me's fulla tricks B-)
AdminJF: 'sides, don't think chattin with 'em would help out. They're... kinda chaotic.
CodingB: Unlike you, pizza box tearer?
AdminJF: Ey ey, I'm the FUN kinda chaotic! Those guys... eh... I know Josh trusts them. No surprise there. I mean, apart from you, they're the only peeps who MIGHT help him out... I'm still on the fence about them tho.
CodingB: I see.
CodingB: May I ask... what your nightmare was about? I do not know exactly how dreams work, but talking about what ever is making you upset tends to help.
AdminJF: Are you sure? It's... kinda dumb.
CodingB: I am all ears! And eyes! You have my full attention!
AdminJF: Right, well
AdminJF: where tf do I start...
AdminJF: I was... running in this like, industrial... plant of some kind? Like, running from something that I couldn't see? Like, that went on for a while, that I was just running and trying not to trip or crash into anything.
AdminJF: So at some point, I end up at this biiig chain link fence, like, the kind they put up in big facilities, I think. Anyways, I start climbing the thing, only to get pried off and thrown on my ass by, I guess whoever was chasing me??
AdminJF: But like, I look up at the guy, and I still can't really "see" him. Could say they looked like a shadow, but even that doesn't cover it really. That's around where I woke up and just. I dunno. Woke up about an hour ago and I've been too anxious to head back to sleep...
CodingB: ... I can't say I blame you exactly. An event like that, dream or not, would stress anyone, I'm certain. Until you've calmed down sufficiently, I don't think sleep will be possible...
AdminJF: Yeah, well, all the more reason to chat, right?
CodingB: I suppose so. Had you any topics in mind?
AdminJF: Oh Yea yea
AdminJF: ... No. I really don't.
CodingB: Ah. Then... could I ask you something?
AdminJF: Shoot.
CodingB: ... What is it like out there? Past the screen, I mean. Out in the sun. Out in the grass...
AdminJF: Ah shit... I'm really the wrong dude to ask but uh
AdminJF: It's... fine? No no uh... It... gives you something to do. Sun can get pretty hot down here but it's a helluva lot better than being cold in like, the snow and shit. Josh's been complaining that it's getting colder when... it hasn't? Like, I would know, I'm p sensitive to temperature shifts yo, but it's just been as hot as ever.
AdminJF: Uh, back on topic
AdminJF: Grass is... pretty soft, gives off a nice smell after it's cut. Uh... worms live in the dirt grass grows in...
CodingB: Oh, worms?
AdminJF: Yea, not like computer worms, but uh, little... long slimey things. They eat dirt and filter out the bad stuff so the ground stays healthy and all that.
AdminJF: Birds and lizards and fish like to eat them but I wouldn't recommend it.
CodingB:
CodingB: Allen, did you-
AdminJF: No!
AdminJF: Classmate back in primary did tho
AdminJF: Dared himself to cuz there was a bunch out after it rained and then uh
AdminJF: Y'know what, let's talk about something else.
CodingB:
CodingB: Well, um, do you think I'll ever get to see out there?
CodingB: Like, leave the device and go outside?
AdminJF: Knowing Joshua? Without a doubt. He's prob already working on the blueprints.
CodingB: ... Really?
AdminJF: Pfft, of course! You've met the guy! He's too kindhearted for his own good. J will stop at nothing to help others, even at his own detriment. I mean, case in point: He's friends with me.
CodingB: ... What's wrong with being friends with you?
AdminJF: Ha!
AdminJF: Ah...
AdminJF: Look, I... back when we first met, Josh saw this hungry, pale as death, angry and antisocial freak around his age and, instead of avoiding him like everyone else, sat down right next to him and offered half of his lunch.
AdminJF: I've been through 5 different fosters since he and I first met, CB. Five houses that all took me in and gave me the boot before I could even get comfortable. Within that time, the only other friends I've made apart from him are Clera and Tiff, and the only reason Tiff's our friend is because she and Cler started dating months ago.
AdminJF: I mean, hell, just yesterday, I
AdminJF: shit
CodingB: ?
AdminJF: ... Can you... keep a secret, CB?
CodingB: My lips are sealed, Allen. Is everything alright?
AdminJF: ... I... I lied to Josh, about me running off. About how my folks were mad and I needed to get away from the house for a bit.
AdminJF: The truth is that they... They kicked me out.
CodingB: They?? What!?
AdminJF: Yesterday past-noon, few hours after lunch, not-pops plopped my schoolbag on me, told me to shove as much of my shit in it as I could, and just told me to "get lost". Figured he was joking and I just stared at him cuz, like, why the hell would I think he was serious? But, looking at his face...
AdminJF: So then I said "Let me pack my suitcases while you call the agency" cuz that's how it normally went when my Fosters got sick of me, but mfer pulls me up and goes all "We want you out of here NOW" and tells me that I have ten minutes to fill my bag.
AdminJF: ... And he, uh, really did mean 10 minutes. They weren't lying about that part...
CodingB: Oh my god... That's horrible. They do not deserve to call themselves "parents" of any kind! Are you hurt? Are you okay?
AdminJF: I
AdminJF: I don't know why shit like this still shocks me, y'know? I should be used to it all, and I am for the most part but...
AdminJF: I guess a part of me was thinking that... Things were going well! Things were going better than any of the other families I'd been in! I was with them for almost a full year, like, a month away from it even, and sure, I might've been a bit of an ass sometimes, but they...
AdminJF: Tensions were kinda mounting for the past month or so, I guess, but I didn't notice it until this bs happened. Now most of my shit is in a home I'm not welcome in anymore, the agency probably won't be checking in for another month or so, and I have no goddamn idea what I'll do if Mrs. Freeman comes back and tells me I can't stay here. I'm completely shit outta luck.
CodingB: Allen, I'm so sorry...
CodingB: ... I'm sure... Josh and his mother, they won't leave you on your own like that. You said yourself that Josh is very very kind, for better or for worse. It doesn't matter what you might think about yourself, Allen, you do not deserve to be hurt in any way.
AdminJF:
AdminJF: Christ I spilled my guts like hell
AdminJF: Just one of those fucking
AdminJF: "3am! Time to vent!"
CodingB: Allen, please.
AdminJF: Maybe I could try going back to sleep now...
CodingB: Allen, wait!
CodingB: I. Before you go, please, I
CodingB: Maybe... could you keep a secret of mine too?
AdminJF:
AdminJF: Eh, it's only fair, fine. Go right on ahead.
CodingB: Alright! Alright!
CodingB: I... I'm terrified. Of failing Joshua.
CodingB: Of ending up trapped in this computer for who knows how many more years.
CodingB: Of finally getting out, and... and it all being worse than being trapped in here.
CodingB: Heck, I'm terrified at the thought of it being everything I could've ever dreamed of, so much so that I never want to return to the computer. I... I wouldn't be helpful anymore if that happened...
CodingB: Jeez... am I even helpful where I am now? Apart from keeping the firewall up, what good have I really done to help Joshua or his father?
CodingB: I cannot express to Joshua how... how deeply frightened I am at the thought of him never coming back. That thought haunts my every waking hour when he is not here, and I don't know how to get it to stop. It makes me feel as though I'll crash my entire programming and I hate it so much.
AdminJF: Damn... CB, you know, even just keeping a firewall up is a helluva task all on its own, and it's doing a crapton of good, too. Files are still up and the computer isn't a smouldering pile of viruses now is it?
AdminJF: Besides, even without all of that, you've still helped Josh, like, endlessly. You've supported him a bunch and I know for a fact that you've helped him to feel better about this whole ordeal. Like, he chats about you for HOURS the second you come up in a convo, yo. The minute he gets the chance to, I know he's gonna get you out of there, and, knowing your ingenuity, you're gonna find thousands o' ways to help out.
AdminJF: But... I ain't gonna lie and tell you those feelings are gonna go away. Not on their own. Needs time and reassurance. Until all of this is over and done with and even maybe a good few years afterwards, you're probably gonna still have that fear.
CodingB: Ah... I see... I don't suppose it is normal though, is it?
AdminJF: Nah. I know that first-hand... But hey, we've both made it this far despite all the bullshit we've been through, right? World's not gonna get ridda us that easily.
CodingB: ... Even with the terror I feel, am I still brave enough to face the world?
AdminJF: I'd say the world oughta learn to start being afraid of you, cuz there's nothin' braver than continuing to live even when you're scared to death.
CodingB: ... Thank you. Thank you so very much.
AdminJF: Heh, all in a day... night's work...
AdminJF: Think the both of us could use some rest. Quiet our minds fo' a bit.
CodingB: Heh, agreed... See you tomorrow in that case. Er, well, today. At a later hour.
AdminJF: Yeaaa, see ya then, CBot. Sleep well.
CodingB: You too! May your dreams be filled with nothing scary!
[Emergency Program Inactive]
ampd.program deactivated. Returning to error log...
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Of Doms & Subs 3: The Great Escape
Pairing: Angus Hopper x OFC
Summary: What’s a submissive female to do when she fights her nature and goes on the run as a Lone wolf to avoid being assimilated into a pack?
Word count: 1733
Of Doms & Subs Master List
I was very appreciative of the thick carpeting because it allowed me to nearly soundlessly slide the dresser in front of the bedroom door. The window screen was almost as silent when I popped it free of the frame. The room faced the leeward side of the hill, so it was effectively a three story drop to the ground. Not being eager to test the limits of my regenerative abilities, I took one of the ropes from my pack and tied one end around a leg of the heavy oak bed. Rather than drop my bags noisily to the ground, I was grateful for my new strength that allowed me to climb down with them both slung across my back.
It was raining again. Or would that be still raining? Hard to tell in this part of the Northwest. Hopefully it would help muffle sounds. The thick grass squelched under my feet as I sprinted for the road, avoiding the driveway and the crunch of gravel. I was so focused that I almost didn’t see the wolf charge at me as I rounded the house. What was his name again, Ian? I spun the duffel from my back to the front, using the momentum to slam the end into his solar plexus. Fifty pounds of weight powered by a werewolf judiciously applied into a two-foot squared area was sufficient to knock the wind out of even another werewolf.
Unfortunately, werewolves recover much faster than humans. Asphalt was so close I could practically taste the petrichor when Ian grabbed me. Before I knew it, I was slung over his shoulder so that it dug into my stomach, which was still full of pizza and carbonation. Not a good combination. The duffel fell down and I extricated myself from the strap before it could strangle me. Rather than start a fight I couldn’t possibly win, to keep myself calm, I pondered at what point suffocation would overpower regeneration.
“That was quick thinking with the duffel,” Ian said as a salve to my pride.
“Get mugged on the way back from the gym, or work, you learn to improvise.” My voice sounded stuffy to me from the blood rushing to my head till it felt like it would burst. “How’d you know?”
“We were all expecting it,” he laughed. My stomach really wished he hadn’t as his shoulder bounced against my gut. “Hell, there’s a betting pool going on when you’d try.”
Ian set me down on the porch and opened the door for me. We pried off our muddy shoes in the aptly named mudroom. “I’m gonna have to climb back up the rope.” He cast a confused look my way. “I pushed the oak dresser in front of the door,” I confessed.
He threw his back and laughed. “You sure you’re submissive?”
“That’s what they keep telling me,” I shrugged.
“I’ll send Jim up, skinny dude’s like a spider monkey anyway.” He gestured for me to hang the backpack on a hook, so I surrendered it with as much grace as I could muster before he marched me down to what I was rapidly coming to think of as the principal’s office.
If Angus had been woken up he gave no sign of it. He was dressed in the same clothes he wore earlier. The scowl was certainly the same, if a touch darker. “Where were you going this time?” he demanded.
“Timbuktu,” I answered far more casually than I felt. “What is this? Another attempted case of forced Stockholm syndrome? Right now the only difference I’m seeing between you and John is a mansion in the city vs cabin in the woods.”
“I tried to be delicate despite the situation and your nature, which is obviously ill suited to our culture.” If I thought he was growly before, I was sorely mistaken. What rumbled from his chest to spill through the room had never come from a human throat. His voice was a wave of power like none I had ever felt before. I shivered involuntarily. As embarrassing as it was to visibly react, the more visceral response low in my body was mortifying. The wolf was anxious to submit. Our mutual arousal just made that urge worse.
“You are too new to control yourself.” He no longer bothered with the amiable pose against the desk. Now he assumed an Alpha stance, drawn up to his full height, feet spread slightly, so his presence was overwhelming even without the mystical power he exuded before.
“I have been terrified, hunted, tired, hungry, held against my will, and am royally pissed, but I haven’t lost control once.” If someone only heard my words, they’d never suspect that my head was bowed and my shoulders practically hunched. I told myself it was only a show to placate him in spite of my attitude.
“The full moon is weeks away, so do not make the mistake of complacency. Do you know what happens to bad little wolves who lose it?” His register and volume had dropped till it was far more intimate than a voice should be, like a caress that brushed places not entirely physical. My wolf would roll over and beg for his praise instead of censure in that deliciously dangerous tone. “Their Alpha puts them down. Discipline is necessary to maintain the veneer of civility that allows us to co-exist with humans. Those who cannot adapt to our ways don’t live long.”
Oh crap, I knew that look. Angus had to teach me a lesson or else be seen as weak, possibly even flouting the Marrock’s laws. The kid gloves were coming off or else the pack stability was at risk. The needs of the many and all that. My pride was bruised enough as it was, so I turned inwardly to my lupine half. Promise not to go on a murderous rampage? Her tail thumped happily in agreement. All right, tagging you in. She didn’t fully take over. Instead she removed the inhibitions and fears of what others would think of me for abasing myself. Wolves didn’t worry about human hang-ups.
I, she, we fell to our knees on the throw rug on the hardwood floor at his feet. Perhaps it was there as a small kindness to those grovelling, like I was. It lent a disturbing reality to the term called out on the carpet.
“I’m sorry, Alpha,” we whispered to the thick pile. “Humans have taken advantage of my passive nature in the past. I’m afraid that may happen again in a pack.”
“While you are in my territory you are safe, but you will abide by our laws, which means you will not leave without a proper escort.” The power behind his words pressed the air from my lungs and settled into my bones. There was no hope of disobeying now. We weren’t even sure we wanted to. “There are worse things out there than fey and wolves, pup.”
He knelt gracefully next to me, and faster than thought, his teeth nipped sharply at the side of my throat. Not hard enough to draw blood, but there would certainly be a mark on my pale skin in the morning. To my utter shame a gasping whimper escaped my lips and the slow warmth that had been growing between my legs suddenly flared into a blaze. “Now go to bed.”
When I balked at her next point of protocol, the wolf took over just enough to crawl out the door in acknowledgement of the reprimand. Once in the hallway I scrambled to my feet and practically ran upstairs. Someone had retrieved the duffel and my pack, although the rope and any other climbing equipment was conspicuously absent.
Too tired to dig out my pajamas, which were in dire need of a wash anyway, I stripped naked and fell into bed. My wolf’s last thought was, He’s a good alpha. I had fallen into velvety sleep before I could wonder what that meant.
If her scent had been compelling before, it was maddening in her arousal. Only Ian’s presence and her fear of being exploited allowed my humanity to remain in the driver’s seat. Otherwise my wolf would have taken her right there on the carpet. Dear God, he even liked the idea of claiming her in front of Ian so that he would know she was mine. As it was, he wanted to seek her out in her den. Barring that, he’d even curl up and sleep where she knelt. We both liked knowing that she would carry our mark in the morning.
“I’ll be damned, boss, you may just tame the shrew after all,” Ian grinned from his post by the door.
“She’s not a shrew, only scared,” I sighed and rubbed my face. “Imagine no preparation, no ceremony, simply an emergency Change by an old lone wolf in the middle of the wilderness. Given the choice again, knowing what she does now, I doubt she’d make the same decision.”
“Isaac called right before the jailbreak,” he said. “Their pack can be ready to greet her at six tomorrow night.”
“So soon?” I had to force my lip to remain still and not curl up in a snarl at the thought of Ellie leaving my territory.
“Submissive female spontaneously Changed and leading us all on a merry chase while trying to deny what she is now?” He cast me a wry, sideways look without providing a direct challenge. “Hell, I’d be surprised if they didn’t already know about this latest attempt. Which reminds me…” He pulled a thick envelope from a back pocket, drew half of the bills from it, and handed it to me. “You and Mickayla both picked midnight, so you get to split the kitty.”
“Speaking of Mickayla, see if she can get some time alone with our little escape artist before she leaves.” I tucked the packet into a pocket. “If John wasn’t clear on pack politics, I doubt he gave her a comprehensive idea of how much she’s changed.”
“You mean like how to use her nose?” Ian’s grey eyes were twinkling far too mischievously. “Or how her sex drive’s gone through the roof? Because she might’ve already figured that one out on her own.” I growled and cuffed him upside the head. “’Night, boss,” he said unrepentantly as he strolled off to his room.
#my writing#fan fiction#mercy thompson#patricia briggs#angus hopper#urban fantasy#werewolves#scenting#fanfic#mercyverse#original female character#pack dynamics#fan-fic#alpha and omega series#pack bonding#modern fantasy#werewolf culture#pack alpha#fan-fiction#werewolf character#werewolf#slow burn#eventual romance#eventual smut#mating
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prompt: Could you do number 9 (cuddling) for the intimacy prompts with team leckie? I love them as an ot4 and i think i have already seen everything there is for them so far haha. I love the way you write them in the valentines day prompts :’) ( INTIMACY PROMPTS : ACCEPTING )
team leckie ot4 ( platonic and / or romantic )
2000+ words
“the silence of lonely things”
Runner’s got a fever again. It drifts in and out, coming and going like a fickle breeze, leaving him shivering, his thin shirt and boxers completely soaked through. He drifts on a half-remembered haze, stolidly insisting he’s fine anytime one of them asks. That doesn’t mean he protests whenever Hoosier brings a new blanket over to switch out with the current candidate, or Chuckler sweeps a cool cloth over his brow. Runner may be pathetic when ill, but he’s not ungrateful.
“Trust you to pick up whatever’s going around this week,” Leckie chirps. Sprawled sideways in the cushy leather chair, he sounds way too cheerful.
“Not that bad, I told you,” Runner grumbles. “I’ll be up by tomorrow. Probably dancing.”
That much is true. Illnesses love Runner, but they burn through him fast. In a day or two, he’ll be fine; this day, however, is an excuse to laze around the house, watching movies and claiming “sick day” rights.
“God help you when we have the next plague,” Hoosier declares. “Won’t catch me near your infectious ass.”
Hoosier is also sitting in the leather chair. Since it holds the acknowledged position of “most comfortable chair in the house”, everybody wanted it... but Chuckler has more important tasks at hand, so Leckie and Hoosier compromised. Hoosier’s under him, his legs hanging straight out. Leckie’s on top, curled up just so, his legs pulled in and butt bearing down on one side of Hoosier’s hips. It can’t be the most comfortable position, but neither of them are complaining. In fact, Hoosier looks very content to be smushed. With an arm around Leckie’s waist, he urges him back to lean against his chest. Leckie obliges, head falling against Hoosier’s shoulder.
“The two of you are making me sick,” Runner declares.
“Don’t blame us,” shoots back Leckie, smirking. “You’re the one who ate a bunch of French fries off the sidewalk.”
Chuckler dared him to, and they all know Leckie was too coward to eat them himself. “If you hadn’t pushed me, and they hadn’t spilled —“
“I caught a bunch of them,” Chuckler throws in cheerfully as he returns from the kitchen. He’s got a pack of Oreos and a bottle of Sprite balanced under one arm. In his free hand, he carries a fresh water bottle, which he passes to Runner. The coolness is like Heaven; Runner can’t help moaning.
“Now that’s what I like to hear.”
“Fuck’s sake, Hoosier.” Leckie shifts his hips pointedly, too close to Hoosier’s groin to be ignored. Hoosier shuts up.
It’s not like Runner’s got much energy left in his body anyway, but the chill of the water seems to sap the rest of it away. Rather than taking an actual sip, he balances the bottle in the crook of his neck, going boneless against the couch. A sigh escapes him as he curls into it. He doesn’t actually feel sick, just overheated and restless, like it’s the middle of July and he’s been laying inside without air conditioning for hours. Lethargy weighs him down. Still, he can’t help craving — something. Hell, he doesn’t know, but laying here alone just doesn’t feel good, even if he’s not sure what actually will.
“Stop squirming,” Chuckler counsels. He takes a moment to make sure he won’t be sitting on Runner’s head before flopping down on the couch beside him. Runner can’t say what propels him forward, but the next thing he knows, his head is in Chuckler’s lap, and he’s nudging insistently into his stomach.
That’s not like him. He doesn’t usually seek out physical contact unless it’s offered to him first. He must knock the wind out of Chuckler, too, because he gives a small grunt of surprise, looking down at his lap. Still, Runner is persistent. After a moment; his best friend gives in. Chuckler sighs, and a large hand falls on top of Runner’s head, combing gently through his sweaty hair.
“You’re still warm.” The words rumble against Runner’s ear. He huffs.
“Yeah. I can feel it.”
“Do you want to take another Tylenol? Or, here, have some more water —“
“Lew.”
Before Runner can even start to protest, a softer voice cuts in. Chuckler’s given name is only used between the four of them, tossed around just to make a point. Hoosier might wear his typical mask of disinterest, but he’s still looking at them intently. When he leans forward, a strand of golden hair falls across his forehead; Runner has the possibly-delirious urge to brush it back.
“Doubt more pills are what he needs right now,” Hoosier continues, his voice low and utterly free of judgement. “Just leave him be.”
That’s closer to what Runner wants than Chuckler’s mother-henning, but still lands a few yards to the left. “Don’t you dare,” he huffs, nestling further into Chuckler’s lap. “Last thing I want is to be alone right now. Even if you assholes are my only company.”
A chuckle reverberates from Leckie and Hoosier’s side of the room. The leather seat freaks as someone shifts atop it, and now Leckie’s studying Runner too. He never just looks, the bastard. Leckie always studies, and sometimes he smirks, like he’s seeing something really interesting. It drives Runner wild, but he’s never got the heart to tell him to cut it out.
“Don’t leave him alone, then.” Leckie draws the words out low and smooth like he’s dragging them across Runner’s skin just to tease him. “If we did that, he might just shrivel up and die from the lack of attention.” Look who’s talking, Runner wants to say, but in the next moment Leckie’s sprung off the chair and crossed over to the couch.
“He needs to be looked after,” he declares, pressing a palm to Runner’s overheated forehead. God help him, Runner moans.
Okay — for the sake of his dignity, it’s not really a moan. A hum, really. A very satisfied hum. It’s also all Leckie needs to hear. The next second, he’s wiggling himself into the very limited space on the couch, squeezing into the precarious gap between Runner’s body and the sofa cushions. This gives him the perfect window to wrap an arm around Runner’s chest, pulling him back. Runner didn’t realize how much he was craving the touch until he has it. Some instinct from when he was a kid — the same one which always left him clinging to his mother’s side whenever he felt under the weather, resting his head on her chest while she rocked him until he fell asleep — must still be in there. He feels it stir back to life. Even if every instinct in his body’s screaming not to give in, because he’s got pride, damn it, and no way Leckie will forget this in a million years… but Runner’s also human. Leckie’s touch is soft, and his chest is like a muscle-bound pillow. Runner doesn't have the motivation to resist. After a moment, he melts back into the embrace. Leckie huffs a laugh, massaging along Runner’s arm. It feels so good that Runner’s eyes flutter shut. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling until Chuckler’s thumb brushes his bottom lip, as if to admire the expression.
“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” Hoosier just sounds offended to be left out. After a moment, where no one bothers to toss him a reply, he huffs and hauls his own ass out of the chair. Runner doesn’t pay attention to where he goes. He’s too focused on Leckie’s soothing massage, and Chuckler’s fingers still running along his scalp. When, after a few moments, someone nudges him, he only hums in displeasure.
“Up and at ‘em. I got something better for you.”
“Come on, Bud,” Chuckler urges, his voice low in Runner’s ear. Leckie’s already making his escape. When Runner pries his eyes open, he’s confronted with a mess in the middle of the living room — all the pillows he’s got in the house, plus the blankets from his own bed, and the spare comforter in the closet. In the middle of the chaos sits Hoosier. He’s organized the nest into something resembling comfort. As he flops back onto a small mountain of pillows, he heaves a sigh.
“Incoming,” Leckie announces, before nearly divebombing him.
Runner appraises the situation as their two friends wrestle in a canopy of cushions. He turns over in Chuckler’s lap, humming. “I dunno. Looks kinda hazardous to me. Should we risk it?”
“Stop your hemming and get down here,” Hoosier demands. After all the effort he went to, Runner supposes, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.
He moves first, shifting off Chuckler’s lap into a sitting position. Chuckler, set free, immediately slides to the floor in a jumble of over-sized limbs. One corner of the pillow nest is clearly more comfortable than the others, so Runner Berliner’s for that. The effort of moving is worth it as he settles down into blissful softness; the comforter billows out like it wants to swallow him up, and he sinks into it, perfectly willing to let it.
Around him, he can feel his friends shifting. Chuckler slides in behind him, tucking Runner in against his side, and Runner unconsciously curls into him. Leckie’s on Chuckler’s other side, in a tangle of limbs with Hoosier. He mutters something that Runner doesn’t catch. He hears Chuckler’s answer, though: a deep chuckle, followed by, “Get in here, Lucky.” After a minute, Leckie must concede, because Runner feels Chuckler pull him close to, and there’s a soft, “oh,” as Leckie melts into the embrace.
“Y’all are gross,” Hoosier declares, somehow snaking his way to the top of the pile. He’s heavy, and bony in places bones just shouldn’t be, but he’s also warm — basically a weighted blanket. Runner minds less than he should.
“You’re the one who’s friends with us,” says Leckie.
“For that, I got no one to blame but myself.”
“We liven up your life,” Runner murmurs into Chuckler’s chest.
“This is the first sign of life you’ve shown all day.”
“Guys, come on,” Chuckler sighs. “Look, there’s a good movie on. Let’s just watch the movie.”
“I can’t stand this movie.”
“He’s right,” agrees Leckie. “You’ve got atrocious taste in films.”
“I’ve also got the remote. You wanna take it from me?”
“You say that like I couldn’t.”
Runner huffs. “I’d like to see you try, but you’ll just embarrass yourself.”
“Oh really —“
“Jesus Christ, shut up already,” groaned Hoosier, who’s disdain for the movie they’re watching has already been declared. “Let’s just watch the damn thing.”
They all settle in; after a few minutes, nothing fills the room but the sound of their breathing, their limbs shuffling in the blankets, and an explosive action scene echoing from the TV screen. Outside, rain pours down in sheets, drumming softly against the window; the sky continues to get darker and darker, going from a slate grey to a cool, deep blue.
It’s crowded, and quiet, and a little bit perfect. When Runner closes his eyes, the rhythm of his friends’ breath washes over him. He can hear Chuckler’s heartbeat against his ear, feel Hoosier’s legs twining with his, as Leckie’s hand idly massages his shoulder. Nothing happening on the screen concerns him. He’s only interested in this moment, this feeling, the overwhelming sensation of not being alone.
Damn it, he’s happier than he should be.
As if reading his thoughts, Chuckler shifts slightly, leaning close enough to murmur in Runner’s ear. “You okay, Bud?”
Runner hums, pressing his face into his friend’s chest. “Just tired.”
He doesn’t have to see Chuckler smiling to know he is, or feel the kiss he presses into the crown of his head to know it’s there. “Alright, buddy. Get some rest.”
He’s almost afraid to, afraid they won’t be here when he wakes up — and waking up alone would be the worst thing in the world…
But the presence of his three friends lulls the worries from his mind. Runner drifts off with warmth flowing through his entire body, three bodies wrapped around his own, and a tiny smile on his lips. It’s everything he didn’t know he needed.
#the pacific#team leckie#hbo war#robert leckie#runner conley#hoosier smith#chuckler juergens#my writing#im so glad you like how i write them darling!! they're super fun to play with
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Lights Out {Ethan Hunt Oneshot}
This is a special-edition personalized oneshot for @justyouraveragefangirl1967
Wordcount: 2476 Summary: Ethan’s wife finds something strange in his office. After putting some pieces together, she begins to take a self-defense class in case his life is more dangerous than he makes it seem. Those come in handy one night.
It seemed as though Holly lived in a world where most people expected it to be bleak and dark, but it was filled with sunshine and the most perfect temperatures. Everything could be a bit much sometimes, but when one had disabilities the way that she did, it was all the more tough - but she got through it with a smile on her face. Why? Because she had an extremely handsome, generous, funny man by her side who boosted up her confidence every morning when he rolled over in bed, ran his fingers through her bedhead hair, and pressed a kiss to her cheek before he got out of bed. Others tended to see what was ‘wrong’ with her, while Ethan Hunt saw the beauty that was the sparkle in her blue eyes, the way that she smiled, and the way that she never let anything stop her from achieving her goals of becoming a writer - though she was still just aspiring at this point. He was her number one fan, always and forever - which is exactly what he had promised her when he had slipped the engagement ring onto her finger one romantic afternoon.
However, there was no kiss this morning, since Ethan had been called away for a work trip. Things were usually quiet around the house, since she was hearing-impaired and tended to keep things like the radio and television off when she wasn’t using them, but when Ethan was gone? Even the silence that she had grown accustomed to was louder than the house when he wasn’t in it. Her mind had conjured up music of its own when Ethan entered a room, created ambiance to the smiles and the frowns, to the laughter and the smooth way that he did things. Holly had accepted a quiet life, but she was missing the sound of Ethan’s smile right about now.
After her morning tea - which was a struggle because Ethan sometimes teasingly put the teabags higher up than her 4‘9 figure could reach, and he had forgotten to bring them down - she looked at the muggy day outside and knew immediately what she was going to do. Groceries were bought, the house was clean - she had no excuses except to boot up her laptop and put some effort into her works in progress.
Her own office felt rather ... lonely, at the moment. The walls did have pictures of her loved ones, including quite a few of Ethan himself, but she wanted something more. She wanted to feel his presence around her completely. And that was why she decided that she was going to work in his office instead, since he wouldn’t be at home to catch her doing so. It felt so taboo to be going into his personal space. It wasn’t locked, but Holly still felt a bit of unease at being there alone.
Ethan’s desk was meticulously clean, with only a couple of stationary things upon it. He had taken his laptop to work, which made sense - it was the only thing that he was secretive about, but Holly never pried. His business was his business, just as yours was yours. She set her laptop up in the space that his usually occupied, opened it up, sat down in his seat, and started to tap at the keys, making words flow on the white screen.
An hour passed before she decided that it was a good time for a break. She leaned back in the seat, looking at the room that she had so seldom been in. Shelves lined the walls, the window looked out into the beautiful backyard where the sun was shining, and there was a photo of the two of you hanging on the wall, which was the only decoration in the place. She got out of the chair and went to look at the books that were on the shelves, wondering if there was something that may interest her.
After squinting at the titles for a moment, she saw that a couple of the books had a thin layer of dust on them. Despite knowing that cleaning them would mean that Ethan might catch on to the fact that she was in here, she couldn’t help herself from taking a tissue and lightly sweeping it over the books. She must have gone a little harder than she had intentioned, for one book was pushed back, smashing it’s pages against the back wall. She winced and tried to reach it to push it back up to place, but her fingers found a strange button on the wood rather than the pages. At first, she thought it must just be a knot in the wood, but she pressed down on it and heard a clicking noise from the other side of the room.
Having read stories about old houses with hidden rooms, Holly’s heart started to beat quickly in her chest in anticipation of what she might find. A secret library with expensive books that Ethan might have gotten from his travels? Or even better, a thought that made her blush, a pleasure room? As she turned around, she found herself to be disappointed for what was exposed was not a room, but rather a panel in the wall that had once held a painting and a mirror. What was there now was a metallic space, lit up by little white lights, showing off something you did not expect in the slightest.
Guns.
Holly didn’t know much about weapons other than a bit of light research that she had done for a story some time back. But she could identify a shotgun, and a couple of handguns. She didn’t dare touch anything, but rather stared with a slightly open mouth. She fell back into her seat, thinking about why the guns would be there. Thinking over the past, she started to realize that perhaps she didn’t know Ethan as well as she had thought that he had.
-
When Ethan returned home, everything was back the way that it was, save for the missing dust on one of his book jackets. If he had noticed that, he didn’t say anything about it. Holly’s laptop was safely back where it should be, and she worked on your writing while waiting for him to shower and come see her.
‘Hello beautiful,’ Ethan signed once he had Holly’s attention. She looked up at him, caught the sign, and gave him a wide smile.
“Welcome home,” She said aloud. He thanked her and took his usual spot on the sofa, with his arm around her shoulders. The t-shirt that he was wearing stuck onto his still damp body, and his growing hair was starting to hang in his eyes. She looked at him lovingly, and tucked herself into his side, nuzzling to show that she had missed him. After she had found the weapon cache, she decided that she wasn’t going to tell Ethan that she had found it. Or that she had figured out what was going on in his life. He took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it absent-mindedly as he paid attention to what was going on in the news. He seemed to be looking for something, a story in particular. Once the headlines were through, and the more fluffy pieces and weather came on, he clicked off the television, with relief in his eyes that Holly could see a mile away. She may not have known what Ethan did exactly, but she could read his face better than anyone.
‘I think I’m going to order us dinner tonight.’ Ethan signed to Holly once the TV had returned to the black screen it tended to be when he wasn’t home. ‘And we can go out for dinner tomorrow.’
“I’m busy.” Holly said, taking Ethan by surprise. “How about a late dinner?”
‘What are you doing tomorrow?’
“Just taking a class down at the community center,” Holly said with a smile. Before Ethan could ask any more questions, she stopped him with a kiss and went into the kitchen to look at takeout menus and decide what to have for dinner.
-
For a while, just because of Ethan’s job and any dangers that he might bring home because of it, Holly had gone to self defense classes. It was tough to start the habit, considering she only had one good leg, but she found that she enjoyed it. What wasn’t fun about it though, was that she had to evade Ethan’s questions about it. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep it a secret from him because she felt that she had to hide it. It was because she knew that he would worry for her, and insist that he could take care of her himself.
In the times that she had gone to the gym, she had gotten good. Actually, she had gotten pretty damn good. It brought along a confidence that she hadn’t had in a very long time. She came home each evening with a smile on her face, and ran herself a bubble bath so that Ethan could join her - which he was usually more than happy to do. She also felt more comfortable on her own when he went out on his ‘work trips’. It was a nice feeling, knowing she could hold her own, at least somewhat.
But unfortunately, that was going to be tested sooner rather than the never that she was hoping for.
It was late one night when Ethan had gone out to ‘have some drinks with the boys’, whatever that had meant. Holly didn’t question it, she just gave him a damn good kiss that he could taste on his lips until he had something to drink, told him to call a cab if he drank too much, and then settled in for a night alone. It wasn’t that she was lonely either, she liked having some time to herself, though she did spent it often worrying about Ethan and whatever it was that he was truly doing. She still didn’t ask him what that was, or accuse him, because she was smart enough to know that the secrecy was for her own benefit.
Only the lamp next to the sofa was on, and her laptop was balanced on her lap and she was tapping away at what she hoped would be the best breakthrough novel in the world. It was good to have dreams, and even better when she had someone by her side who believed that she could do it. The TV was off, there was no music on, and the only sound that was going on was the tapping of the keyboard as she plucked the words straight out of her mind and put them on the white screen.
She felt that something was wrong before she could see any sign of it. A tingling sensation, the hair on her arms standing up on end. Something was not right. She could sense that there was someone in her home - and since she could see the front door from where she was sitting, they were not someone who should be here because they didn’t come from there.
She moved the laptop from her her lap, saving her work quickly and closing it, then tucked it under a pillow so it wouldn’t get stolen. Or destroyed - both were horrible concepts. She wished she knew what she was facing. This could be a common burglar, a murderer, someone who was after information about Ethan, it could even be someone who wanted to come in and steal all of her book ideas! Okay, the last one wasn’t likely but the other three? Too much so.
Despite the self-defense classes, she didn’t know much about working with weapons. But it seemed a much better idea to protect herself with one of Ethan’s guns and her knowledge of self defense rather than just hope that these guys didn’t have weapons of their own.
Holly couldn’t hear where they were, and her seeing was also not the greatest, so she couldn’t look for shadows. But what she did have were her own senses, and they had never let her down before. She crawled onto the floor in front of the couch, and felt the floors of her home. She could feel the pressure of the footfalls. Great, she thought, there were at least three of them that she could tell. Her hand curled into a fist - she was not about to hide herself, this was her house dammit!
The first of the men came into the room, clad in black. The second followed behind with a gun in his hands, checking to see if the coast was clear. Holly didn’t breathe, didn’t let herself think about what she was about to do. She went through the motions, running on pure adrenaline. With her good leg, she kicked the gunman in the groin, making him bend over, but unfortunately, not drop the gun. The two men were startled by her attack, but the third had time to see what was going on in front of him, and brought out a rather menacing knife. Like an angry pirate in a film, he was blindly slashing, getting nothing more than Holly’s hoodie with the blade, lucky for her. They must not have been expecting anyone to be home, let alone her.
Since she had already gone for the groin of one of the men, they would certainly be anticipating for her to go for that again. As she raised her foot, the man pulled his hips backwards to be out of her range, but she went for the knee instead, which buckled him. He let out of a cry of agony, for something there had definitely broken.
The first guy came at her swinging, looking like a gorilla or something with how thick his arms were. She was small enough to avoid most of his hits, since he was a large man and had to actively work at keeping his fists low. Since he was hunched over, she had good access to his face. Grabbing a large book off one of the end tables, she thrust it forward with all of her might into his nose, causing a bloody mess over the cover, but at least it was a soft cover so it shouldn’t be too hard to clean up.
The front door was unlocked and thrown open, and at first Holly grew concerned that it was another of the bad men, but instead it was her husband. Her happiness at seeing his face was short lived, however, since the man she had kicked in the groin finally re-stabilized himself and started to shoot at the door. Ethan dived in, and turned off the lamp and that was the end of what Holly could see. She moved away from the men who had come after her, shuffling to the end of the couch and taking cover there. Three gunshots - she could feel them, as well as see the bright blasts. She held her breath once more, unable to breathe until the light turned back on and she was confronted by the face of her husband.
“You did amazing. I love you. Are you okay?” He signed to her. As she nodded, she started to cry from the pure exhaustion and fear of what had happened. He wiped her tears away and held her in his arms until she felt better. Only then did he call in some people for cleanup.
Throughout the rest of the night, he held her in his arms, touching her, kissing her, being proud of her. He still had not told her what he did for a living, his real job, but it didn’t seem necessary at this point. She had figured something out, obviously, and that was good enough. He pressed a last kiss on her forehead before laying down in the bed on his back, thinking of the injuries that he had seen on the three men. Though they were dead, by his hand so he was certain of it, he had never seen such a bad knee injury before. Instead of being scared or nervous, he felt such overwhelming pride in his wife. He had made the right choice proposing to her, and he wouldn't regret it for a second.
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The Modern Recluse: How to Camouflage Yourself Around Regular People
Story 1 | Jackson
Set in the mildly fictional town of Greenwood, The Modern Recluse follows the intertwining lives of several high schoolers . With every story, we accompany a different character as they take the spotlight and navigate daily life.
How do you camouflage yourself around regular people? When everyone else has got it together, how do hide that it’s all falling apart?
Our story begins on Blueberry Lane, a street only slightly less picturesque than its name might suggest. At the farthest end of the lane is a large house. Its two stories are covered by a red brick facade, and the overgrown, late-summer garden is wrapped in an iron fence. The gate to the yard rests below a delicate, wooden arch, where strands of ivy have laid claim to the slats. It’s only six in the morning, but the sun has already snuck through the window shade of every house on the block. These first, cheerful streams are what awaken the subject of today’s story. He stirs inside the attic of the red-bricked house.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The sun pried its way between Jackson’s eyelids, and grogginess whirled in the edges of his mind. It was far too early. He rolled sideways and blindly reached across the crowded nightstand, until his fingers closed around a smartphone plugged into the wall. He dislodged the cord with an unceremonious yank.
Jackson squinted through the expected yet unwelcome brightness of his phone. 6:01 a.m. Definitely too early. The sun had rudely awoken him a full twenty minutes before his first alarm was scheduled to go off. Whatever, he thought. I’ll just get up and take a shower.
After pushing himself to a sitting position, Jackson wiped the last dredges of sleep from his eyes and stood. He stretched as tall as he could, fingertips grazing the low, slanted ceiling of the attic bedroom. He grabbed a shirt and made his way toward the bathroom, glancing in the mirror as he went. Jackson stopped short. The face staring back at him belonged to a stranger.
Damn. Will I ever look right?
Jackson sighed heavily before he could stop himself. But it was too late now—he was already wide awake, standing in the bathroom, bladder full to bursting. He might as well get on with the day and try to wake up better tomorrow.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jackson wandered downstairs to the breakfast table. The Bautista family were spread throughout the kitchen, managing the morning with varying levels of alertness. Joanne, his mom, dozed with her head resting on the kitchen island. She clutched a cup of coffee, and steam rose from it in lazy swirls. Jackson’s father bounced around merrily. Lou had a tea towel thrown casually over one shoulder while he conducted the morning symphony of sizzling bacon, percolating coffee, and bubbling oatmeal. He sang under his breath, an out-of-tune accompaniment to the faint notes of Material Girl that drifted from the radio above the sink.
Sitting on either side of the round kitchen table were Joy and Liam, the twins. Their too-short legs swung in unison above the ground, though neither knew it. Joy’s brow was creased. She was searching for something in her pencil box. Liam’s head kept whipping toward the stove, anxiously awaiting his breakfast of bacon and bacon, and unfortunately, at least a little oatmeal. Jackson walked over to his younger siblings, ruffled their hair, and pulled up a seat.
“Hey Jo,” Lou said, glancing up as Jackson entered, “what’s our oldest daughter up to these days? I haven’t seen her in ages.”
Joanne mumbled incoherently into the granite countertop.
“Sorry, dear. Didn’t catch that.”
“I don’t know,” Joanne said, peeling her face from the counter. “I bought her some beautiful clothes a couple weeks ago, but I haven’t seen her in them yet, or heard a thank you.” She yawned hugely and stretched her arms out in a cartoonishly large fashion, causing the cuffs of her robe to slide toward her elbows.
Jackson did his best not to react. This wasn’t a topic he wanted to talk about—his parent’s absentee daughter—when he hadn’t even had a glass of juice. Instead, he turned his attention to Joy.
“Hey, Bunso. What’s wrong?”
Joy’s frown deepened. “I can’t find my Hello Kitty stickers. I need them.”
“Do you want me to help you look for it?” he asked, stretching a hand toward her backpack.
Joy huffed so hard her cheeks blew out. “No!” She turned away, put her nose in the air, and said, “I don’t want you, Kuya! I want Ate!”
Liam stopped kicking his legs. Joanne sat bolt upright, spilling coffee in her haste. Lou broke off his song. Even the coffee machine stopped mid-drip, like it knew better than to break the silence that settled on the kitchen. Apparently, it was going to be this kind of morning.
Jackson withdrew his hand slowly. His fist clutched the invisible weight of Joy’s sense of betrayal—and his. No one said anything. He waited for a beat, hoping that maybe one of his parents would pitch a, ‘Jackson can help you find the sticker. He’s just as helpful as your big sister.’ But they didn’t. Why aren’t I enough anymore? Jackson wondered. The answer to that question was obvious, but it didn’t lessen the hurt.
Shouldering the backpack he’d slung across his chair last night, Jackson stood, crossed the kitchen, and left. He paused for just a moment on the threshold, feeding another unspoken hope: maybe his mom would call after him to make sure he had some breakfast or money for lunch. She didn’t.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The walk to school was long, but the morning was bright and warm. It was nearly 7:30 when he reached the single-story high school. His bus would just now be swinging by Blueberry Lane.
Being early was fine by him. Jackson entered through the front doors and walked toward the left wing. The hallways were mostly empty, save for a handful of drifting staff members and students.
The inside of his locker was mostly empty, undecorated; nothing like last year. No photos, no mirror, no notes addressed to him from friends. A solitary blue magnet held up his class schedule. He shoved his extra books inside and went to wait in the hall by first period.
By the time lunch rolled around, Jackson’s day had only worsened. The teacher in first period kept calling him Jack or Jackie, which wasn’t his name. It was Jackson. Jack. Son. What was so hard about that? And in math class, he was pretty sure the guy on his right was giving him the stink eye. It was kind of hard to tell, because it was only the second week of school. There were plenty of people milling about that he didn’t know, and who may or may not know him. It didn’t ease his mind that stink-eye-guy, who was a grade below Jackson, was at least six inches taller. Hopefully he wasn’t looking for someone to beat up on.
Jackson sat down at a table in the back corner of the cafeteria. A bag of chips stood in for his lunch. There was only $0.95 in his backpack, so he was counting on potato chips and some water to quiet down his growling stomach. And maybe, if he was lucky, it could fuel him for the horror of gym class. No, he shook his head. Don’t even think about that right now.
A flurry of green curls enveloped Jackson, followed quickly by Alexa’s beaming face. As usual, she was an angel in black. She swung her heavy boots over the cafeteria bench and then set a sandwich, an apple, and a small carton of chocolate milk down in front of him. “Here you go, darling!”
Jackson gave her a half-smile as hot tears prickled threateningly at the inner corners of his eyes. He managed to squeak out a, “thanks!” before tearing into the ham and swiss hoagie. It’s not like Alexa hadn’t seen him cry before—she had, on way too many occasions. But a busy lunch hour during the second week of school? . . . he would avoid drawing attention by any means necessary.
Jackson hadn’t even eaten half his sandwich before Alexa waved someone over. He wasn’t in the mood for company. Alexa wasn’t company, of course--they knew each other well enough to enjoy a comfortable silence, but that didn’t usually fly in larger groups. And to make it worse, he knew the girl coming over. Her name was Grace. They were on the same volleyball team last year.
Grace came over and smiled, a little uncertain of herself. Alexa enthusiastically motioned for her to sit down, and she obliged. Jackson gave her a tense smile. “Hi, Grace.” He held his breath.
“Hi! Um . . . you know, I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name. What is it again?”
He stared at her for a moment. “Jackson. It’s Jackson.” Does she really not remember my name?
“Jackson! Right, of course. I’m so forgetful.” She chuckled, her laugh tinkling like windchimes in a light breeze. “Well, I have to say I really like your new look.” Grace gestured broadly from Jackson’s cropped hair to his Converse.
“Thanks!” he replied. A grin stretched itself across his face. Jackson decided that Grace was one of the coolest people he’d ever met, and he hadn’t even realized it until then.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Gym class, AKA hell, arrived too soon. He debated skipping it entirely, but there was a whole school year ahead. He wanted to wait at least a little while before he cut class.
Jackson thought he had everything under control. His gym shirt was already on underneath his hoodie. It was at least two sizes too big, but he found the bagginess comforting. Jackson was also wearing his gym shorts, which had been tucked into his jeans all day like a pair of extra-roomy boxers. He skipped the locker room and went straight to a bench in the gym. After making sure the coast was clear, he pulled off his hoodie and jeans and shoved them into his backpack before anyone could spot him. Success. Jackson breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hey, Bautista!” Jackson snapped his head around. Coach Delaney had appeared at the opposite end of the basketball court. “You know the rules. Get into the locker room and change your clothes,” he said, his voice firm.
“But Coach, these are clean, I promise, I just—”
“I don’t want to hear it! You know the rules. Fresh clothes, no stink. Locker room. Change. Now!”
Jackson wanted to argue, but Coach’s tone made it clear that there wasn’t room for discussion. A lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. Jackson looked at the floor and pressed his lips together. His palms were slick with sweat. You can do this. He walked toward the locker room and stopped, his hand hovering over the handle. You can do this. You’ve done this a hundred times. It’s fine. A weight settled in Jackson’s stomach. He summoned every ounce of will power he could and pulled open the heavy door.
A line of girls waited on the other side. All side conversations stopped at once. Everyone was staring. Some of them snickered. A few girls leaned toward each other and began whispering behind their hands.
A distant roar filled Jackson’s ears, like he was riding a wave that was about to break. He couldn’t move or breathe. Blood pounded against his ear drums.
Coach Delaney’s whistle blew. The sharp sound sliced through the cords of panic that were tightening around Jackson and snapped him into action. He turned around and ran.
He ran out of the gym. He ran out of the school. He ran the entire way home and never once stopped.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * EDM blasted through Jackson’s headphones and drowned out the world. His blackout curtains were drawn, his eyes were closed, and he was forcing himself to focus on every single note of every single song. He hadn’t moved for hours.
The noise quieted unexpectedly. Jackson opened his eyes to find his mom pulling the headphones away. She flipped the switch on the side, powering them down. He held his breath. Several silent moments passed--each felt like an eternity.
“Honey,” she began. Nothing followed. Joanne took a deep breath, exhaled the air slowly from her nose, and then tried again. “Honey. Jackie. You can’t skip school.”
Jackson chewed the inside of his cheek and stared at the opposite wall. His voice was quiet. “I know.”
Another deep breath. “I know you want . . . I know you feel . . . you want to stand out and be different. But you’re too young to know what you want yet. You don’t get to disrespect your teachers—”
“I didn’t disrespect anyone—"
“Do not interrupt me!” Joanne snapped. Another deep breath. She forced her voice to reflect calm. “You disrespected Mr. Alpen in math. You disrespected Coach Delaney by being argumentative and leaving his lesson. And you disrespected your family, because what you do reflects on us, on our parenting.” Jackson snorted, and Joanne threw her hands in the air. “You can’t just decide to BE this person, Jaqueline!”
Jackson felt like his mom had punched him in the gut. “That’s not my name,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
“It is your name. You’re my child—my daughter—and I get to decide what your name is. It was my right to name you, and you can’t take that away from me. I’m your mother,” Joanne said. Her brows were knit in anger, and a tear traveled down her face.
Jackson resisted the urge to curl into the fetal position and turn his back to her. Instead, he reached out a hand and placed it on top of hers. He didn’t want to cause her any pain. A thousand thoughts swirled in his mind. I’m not taking anything away from you. I’m your son. Why does it matter so much if I call myself Jackson? It’s my life. How do you always make everything bad in my life about you? He said nothing.
Joanne placed her other hand over his. She sniffled, wiped a tear from her eyes, and smiled. “Let’s just . . . forget about today. We can try again tomorrow, mm? We’ll put all of this to bed, like a bad dream. And when you wake up in the morning, before you get out of bed, just remind yourself that you’re a girl—a sweet, beautiful girl—and your name is Jaqueline.” Joanne gave him a pat on the arm that was meant to encourage him. “Everything will be better in the morning.”
Jackson nodded.
“Okay. I love you, sweetie.”
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divine 05
description; You’ve made a terrible deal with the one and only Devil; Taehyung after your almost-tragic death. Little did you know it would lead you to life in Hell.
Pairings: Devil!Taehyung x reader
Genre: Romance/ Angst
Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | bonus
에이미: The idea of this story may not be suitable for all audiences as it is not Biblically correct; read at your own risk. There is a little bit of Jungkook in this one! It’s been a lonnnnnggggg time but I hope I’ve still got this. Enjoy and cry me a river~
MASTERLIST
There was no doubt that he had been more than terrified when he ascended down from Heaven; glorious wings -black, and his heart -heavy. And there was no doubt that you wouldn't have had a clue as to who he was, or why he coming to see you. .
December always brought on flashbacks; these scattered memories that don't seem like mine continuously strobed in my mind. Were they real events? Do I have amnesia? They seemed far too real to be fictional.
'I keep seeing this man...no....I think he's the Devil.' My eyes flicked to the ticking clock in the consultant room as my head rested on the arm of the chaise lounge, 'I feel like I know him very well.' Then I realise what I said sounded mildly disturbing. I sprung from the chair to sit up straight, 'Wait! That sounded really bad -I'm not in a Satanic cult or anything like that!'
My therapist just smiled, 'That's alright,' I knew what he was going to repeat next, 'This conversation is confined to us only; I'm not allowed to speak of my patient's matters.' His eyes moved back down to the piece of paper on his clipboard, 'Any more flashbacks recently?'
I swung my legs back onto the chair's arm and laid myself down, 'There was one last night...' I reconstructed the images that had been playing in my head several hours ago, 'I think I know where I've been in those flashbacks.' My therapist nodded his head, not looking up from the paper he was scribbling notes on, 'I think I've been in Hell that whole time.'
He finally shot his head up, but this time, I was staring straight ahead into the wall. 'How do you know it's Hell? Can you please describe it to me?' He asked softly, sounding genuinely concerned.
I stared harder into the wall, trying to think of a way of putting the vivid images into words, 'It's...' I pause to rethink my choice of wording, 'It's humid and dark...everything is grey, and...' And I realised that I couldn't describe Hell, 'I can't -I don't know how to put it into words...I'm sorry.'
'No, it's fine.' That was a lie, 'Would you like to try again sometime? Maybe an appointment next...' He flipped through the extensive amount of pages that were surprisingly not popping out of his clipboard, 'Thursday?'
'Yeah...' The seconds of the clock hand seemed to have slowed down for a fleeting second, 'Thursday sounds good.' Swinging my legs off the velvet blue couch, I made my way to the door, 'Thank you.' Although I didn't mean it.
You can hear the pitter-patter of the rain in December crisper and calmer than any other month; my boots carelessly stepped and splashed into puddles that collected in the uneven hollows of the pavement of my street.
My phone rang, 'Yes?' A greeting wasn't necessary from the caller ID.
'How many times this week?' Her voice pooled with worry.
'Mum,' I sigh, contemplating whether to lie or not, '...six.'
'Six?!' I rolled my eyes at her tone; I couldn't see her but I knew she would be running from the kitchen to her lounge -ready to tell my Father, 'Christ! Honey, we have to get this fixed! Y/N, you can not live like this!' She threw herself into panic mode while discussing this topic with my Father for the umpteenth time, 'Christopher, I will not see our daughter like this anymore; I can't. We have to give Dr Bronwin a call tomorrow. This is unhealthy!'
'Mum,' Her pointless rambling overpowered my exhausted voice, 'Mum,' No reply, 'MUM.'
'Yes sweetie,' I could literally hear her brows furrowing from her silence, 'What is it?'
'I'm going to go now,' I stated as politely as I can. She tried to butt in but I bet her to it, 'If you get the appointment with Dr Bronwin; fine, I'll go...just text me the time and the address.'
Sliding the phone back into the pocket of my coat, I resumed in getting lost in my own thoughts. What if this was real and not some drastic illusion my mind was making up? No one would believe me anyway; as much as my Mother loves me, she'll silently back off when the psychiatrist stamps the seal of approval to formally diagnose me with delusional disorder.
Maybe I wasn't seeing the right people...
'Are you serious about this?' Jungkook sat opposite me in the booth of a small coffee shop, 'You know how dangerous this could turn out to be?'
'Really?' I slid him a cutout of the address, 'You can't be serious right? You really believe in all that hulu voodoo Satanic shit?'
'What, I just happened to very careful.' He read over the advertisement, 'Do you want me to come with you?'
'I'm okay.' I answered unconvincingly as his brows furrowed deeper, 'I can handle it.'
He continued to strike a deal with me, 'How about I'll stand outside the door just in case anything unexpected happens?' He slides the piece of paper back to me.
I scoff jokingly at him, 'You think she'll rape me or something?'
Jungkook's face hardened immediately, 'Don't.'
'Fine,' I downed the last bit of my tea, 'Monday, ten: thirty, and don't be late.'
The black SUV rolled into the richer area of Seoul when I sensed an uneasy feeling breathing down my neck. My hairs rose, 'Actually...,' I turned to Jungkook in the driver's seat, 'could you come in with me? I'm getting a bad feeling.'
His doe-eyes stared back at mine before he started to process what I had asked of him, 'Yeah, no problem.'
Despite the rich exterior of the neighbourhood, I could quite literally see the charcoal grey smoke that lingered around the particular house...it was a familiar grey smoke... It didn't just linger, it laughed sinisterly; devouring the building in a thunderstorm of wickedness.
'You alright?' Jungkook parked us across the house, 'You don't look so good.'
I tried to laugh it off with a joke, 'When do I ever?' Not giving him the chance to argue back -I opened my door -unready for whatever hid behind those walls, 'Come on, I already smell Satan making tea for us.'
'Do you see that?' I pointed at the grey veil surrounding the house.
Jungkook stared back at me with his doe-eyes again, 'The house?' He couldn't see it.
I shook it off, 'Yea, it's hideous.'
Walking across the lawn, Jungkook caught up with my nervously fast-paced steps, 'You can't lie you know, I can tell when you're nervous.'
I kept silent as I grabbed his hand.
He stayed that way too.
Luna; despite her name, was middle-aged, hippie-looking Satanist who bore serious frown lines that cut deep into her skin. Her teeth had already stained a yellow hue and her grey hairs already started to thin; it showed whenever she turned her head too fast -you could see the bald patched hidden at the back of her skin. She almost looked undead.
Laying down a set of cards that were lavishly decorated with paintings of demons and tokens, Luna's eyes seemed to have rolled up to meet mine, 'Pick whenever you hear it screaming at you.'
I look hesitantly back at Jungkook who was sitting on a deep violet, velvet couch and then back at the deck of cards; waiting for it to scream out to me.
'How long is this procedure-' Jungkook uncrossed his legs as he looked to Luna for an answer before he was cut off by my spastic screaming.
When it did happen it wasn't a scream at all -it was a shattering screech that rung and panned from the left ear to the right; piercing my eardrums with an aching pain.
'God! Oh God! That one!' I pointed feverously at the card that sat in the centre, 'Make it stop!' But it wouldn't stop. It couldn't stop.
'Christ!' I attempted to cover my ears to muffle the intensifying volume, 'Make it fucking stop!' I crouched to apply more pressure to my ears, 'Make it stop!'
Jungkook bolted from his seat only to be stopped by Luna, 'She needs to touch the card.'
'We'll she obviously can't,' He snapped back; fuming with worry, 'What are you doing to her?'
'She needs to touch the card.' She repeats.
Jungkook was enraged by her lack of care for my suffering, 'Well she fucking can't, okay?! Look at her! I swear if you try-'
'She needs to touch the card!' Luna speaks out more urgently this time.
'Make it stop!' I ran myself into the wall as tears started to form from the pain, 'Stop!' I sobbed.
Jungkook shoved past Luna's smaller figure to hold my head in his hands, 'Y/N!,' I squeezed my eyes shut; unable to process any sound other than the unexplained frequency, 'Damn fuck it! Y/N! Focus!'
'Make it stop,' my voice was weak from the screaming and the crying, 'Make it stop...' my line of vision blurred and refocused and then, blurred and refocused again, 'Please,' I placed my hands over his, 'Kook, make it stop.'
I didn't only mean for the murderous noise to stop but also the dreadful nostalgia that came along with it. I couldn't pinpoint what about the entire experience was so familiar...it just was. The smoke, the cards, the velvet, the scent, the house...the beast that fed upon this house...I was caught, dazed...afraid.
So when Jungkook forcefully pried my hand away from his to then place it on the card I had picked, I didn't fight back. I let it happen. .
'It happened,' disappointment washed over Micheal's face as he spoke through the phone, 'She did it.'
'Did you see her do it?' Taehyung's voice rang through the other line.
'I'm standing outside, of course, I couldn't see her do it,' he ran a hand through his gold locks, 'But her screaming did stop so...'
'Fuck.'
Micheal began to back away from the demon-possessed home, 'What now? She'll know who you are, she'll remember what happened, won't she hate you-'
'Shut up already,' Taehyung hissed harshly -stopping Micheal from tormenting him any further, 'Fuck off, you had one job.'
Micheal's smug grin was his only reply, 'So?' he beckoned him to make a decision, 'What's it going to be? Are you still going to see her?'
Taehyung massaged his temples and sighed, 'Well I don't have a choice, do I?' He paused, 'I'm dying.' .
It was traumatic. Horrific, overwhelming...disgusting.
Everything came back to me like a developing film; motions that were significant from my last one thousand years of existence flickered like shots taken from an old Kodak...everything.
I remembered that fight, I remembered how savage his words were, how much I loved him, how much he broke me; my heart.
I relived that moment.
'What,' he yelled harshly, 'you can't speak now?' He paced in a circle just to return back to where he was, 'I didn't ask for this.' He ran a shaking hand through his hair, 'God damn it.' He breathed out. 'God-FUCK!' His leg swung to kick the chair that sat in one corner of his room.
This was the real Devil; this was what he was like before I came around -angry and resentful.
The chair flew across the room and barreled into the wall -creating a hole, ‘You want me to carry on?!’ He didn’t leave me time to answer, ‘Okay! Fine! On the two hundredth year, I thought about feeding you to the demons so I could clean up the mess I had made!’
His words burnt holes through me -his words that once built me up; ‘So I get the pleasure of seeing you ascend to Heaven,' -tore me down piece by piece; ‘Just LEAVE! How fucking hard is it for you to understand! -I don't give a fuck about your problems, just fucking leave! I don't even know why I spent so much time on you!’
I felt like I was drowning in a murky whirlwind of emotions so clear to understand when they were experienced alone, but suffocating when they were all thrown in at once.
Through a gap in the whirlwind, I could hear Jungkook again; calling me.
'Y/N,' he sat on the Persian carpet rug with my head in his lap, 'Has it stopped? Can you hear me?'
If I did hear him, I didn't process it at all. I simply sat up to press my face into his chest; the wash of emotions were still heavily present, 'I just wanna go home.'
'Out! Out you witch!' Luna burst, suddenly angry after she picked up to look at the picture on the card.
She threw it by my side, 'Satan killer!' .
Forty-six missed calls, a hundred and six unread messages, and one voicemail.
I picked up my phone that sat lonely under the mountains of french fires packets. 'Dial two to hear your latest voicemail-You have one voicemail from;' the monotone voice recited a familiar number, 'zero-two-one-five-six-eight-six-four-one-five.'
'Y/N, it's been two weeks since that reading,' Jungkook's voice sounded drained, 'Come on, weren't you the one who didn't believe in all this?' He sighed, 'What really happened? It's like it's dragged you into a depressive state. Y/N, it's not just me who's worrying; your Mum, your Father...even your therapist is starting to worry.' He paused to steady himself, 'Just...I don't know, call. We can figure this out together.' And then the line went flat.
I didn't want to call back or reply; they would've never have believed me, I didn't want to call and pretend that everything was fine because I had no more energy to lie; I was emotionally drained, it felt like I had to relive one thousand years of emotional turmoil in a few short minutes -in fact -that was exactly what happened.
Tuesday welcomed a storm that brewed steadily a few miles from my apartment, 'Can I get barbeque swirls on those?' I repeat my order through the phone, 'How much was the total again?'
'That'll be twenty-five dollars and the barbeque swirls are fifty cents for each pizza, Miss.' The receptionist chirped too vibrantly for a rainy day.
'Yea, okay.'
'We'll be fifteen minutes away, Miss.'
'Sure.'
If fifteen minutes seemed like forever, I was more than glad to wait for eternity because when I opened the door to my apartment; I automatically wished I hadn't.
'Hey old friend,' His eyes were still held the same fire, but the rest of him seemed...worn. His crisp suit was replaced with a white pullover and a pair of black jeans, and he held my pizza's in one hand, 'The delivery guy said it was for you.'
I was still frozen from the sudden affirmation that everything I saw a couple of weeks ago was true.
He seemed to act like our fight never happened as he gave me a warm smile; something he never did, 'May I come in.' Not waiting for my answer, he closed the door behind him.
I didn't know how to feel, the only thing I wanted to do was to embrace him; he looked tired and beaten but my head wouldn't let me, it reminded me of where we had left off. After he placed the boxes on my kitchen counter, I finally spoke up, 'Get out,' It was colder than I had anticipated it to sound, 'I can't do this, not now.'
'That's it?' He was obviously upset with my tone, 'Fine, you have every right to be angry with me but just give me chance to tell you why I'm here for.'
I scoffed, sickened at the fact that he was playing this fight like a children's game, 'Angry!' My anger turned into frustration and then, into tears, 'I'm more than angry with you! I hate you!'
The Devil's face softened along with his voice, 'You don't mean that.'
I let a tear slip from my eyes...then another...and another, 'No! I do!' I back stepped as he tried to reach out to me, 'I hate you for playing with my feelings, I hate you for hurting me, I hate you because you put me here in this position! I-'
'Y/N, listen to me.' He grabbed my hand and it physically stung.
I swatted it away out of pain, 'Don't touch me.' I hissed at him as distanced our bodies even more, 'I hate you for cursing me!'
'You're not anymore.' He seemed to have found a second of silence to squeeze his line in, causing me to shut up.
My eyes fluttered and my heart constricted; it seemed to have cramped up. I wanted to, I desperately wanted to crash my lips on his and feel his warmth again. Despite his nauseating words, the thought of him still felt like home.
Yet, I let the overwhelming emotions take control, 'Is that all? Are you expecting a 'thank you?' because that's never going to happen. Getting my life back was the least you could've done.' My words reflected the Devil of the past; stabbing into him and dragging the knife along the wound to tear it even more.
But he didn't lose it, he stayed frighteningly calm and what happened next took my soul and crushed it in its palms.
His hand came up to hold my damp cheek, he lowered his head to press his forehead against mine, 'Shhhh, don't cry anymore okay?' That's when I realised that he had been crying the whole as well. His voice was as soft as my favourite lullaby, but his words pulled at my heart, 'It's all my fault alright? I blame me too, okay? I was stupid and it's all my fault.'
I sniffled as his hand snaked to the back of my head and he pulled me into his chest as I cried; he was willingly showing me affection for the first time in a long time.
I wasn't wrong; he still did feel like home, but when I recollected myself, I foolishly told him to; 'Get out.' It was a whisper, but it was enough.
Before he left, he proceeded to kiss the top of my head, 'I love you.'
I shouldn't have hidden the tear that slid down my face at his confession...I should've told him I loved him too.
☽
Next chapter: 06
#bts v#bts#taehyung#kim taehyung#taehyung x reader#taehyung x you#tae#taehuyng bts#bts scenarios#bts wings#bts jungguk#bts jungkook#jungkook x reader#taehyung fanfic#lucifer#bts fanfic#divine
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Spymaster for the Royal Family, huh?
@kollegekid3721 wanted a sequel. Well, I guess I’m super on a roll tonight.
(Alt. title for this story: Apartment hunting feat. the Queen)
“Spymaster?” The King spat. “Spymaster?!”
“Yes, father,” the Prince sighed, having told his father nearly six times within the last hour, all while their new Spymaster sat to the side, looking embaressed as all Hells.
“We don’t need a bloody... fucking... Spymaster!” He sputtered, gesturing to her. She felt her cheeks and ears burn in shame. These people could easily wipe out everyone, why would they need a spymaster?
“We do,” the Prince repeated with a sigh. “And why on this green Earth is that?!”
“Because she knows all of the latest trends with humans,” he replied. “We’ve been out of the game for God knows how long.” The King turned red with rage, about to spit more venom, until the Queen tutted. “I believe it’s a good idea,” she said.
The King sputtered, unable to process what he was hearing, while the Prince grinned. “Our son is right, we know nothing of the human race currently. For all we know, they could’ve learned how to fly, and we’d be all the weaker for it.”
“But... but... Spymaster!” The King whined. The Queen raised a hand, and her husband went silent. “Not a word more, because I am done with your... insolence,” she snarled. As soon as her rage had come, it was gone, and she gave a serene smile to their newest addition. “Spymaster, would you like to see your possible rooms?”
“Rooms?” She repeated, swallowing. The Queen was patient when she said, “yes, rooms.” The Spymaster blinked. This was... unexpected. “I... sure,” she blurted, standing rapidly. “Let’s go see my possible rooms.”
“Excelent!” The Queen said, standing. The King still sat there, looking awkward and in shock. “But... but...” The Queen shot him a glare, and he went silent, looking bashful. “Come along, dear,” she hummed at the Spymaster.
They continued along corridors, the Spymaster having no idea where half of them came from. “Here we are! Door one!” The Queen opened the door, leading to a room full of only white colors. It was open, yes, but that was the only positive. “The bathroom is right there,” she said, pointing a door on the left wall. The Spymaster went to the door and opened it, peering inside. The bathroom was also white and... admittedly boring. And clinical. Reminded her way too much of the Hospital Wing. She shuddered. “No, too white,” she commented when she returned to the Queen.
“Fair enough,” she replied. “Onward!”
“Door number two!” Once again, the door was swept open, and this one was way too dark. Too many fur rugs, and fur on the walls and...
“No,” the Spymaster said, shutting the door quickly. She turned to the Queen, looking awkward before asking. “Do you... have one with brighter colors?”
“Of course!” The Queen answered, pointing down the hall. “To the next room!”
“Option three!” The room was... colorful... in the wrong way. They were pastel, and still too light. The Spymaster gave a critical look. “No?” The Queen supplied. “Sadly,” the Spymaster replied.
“That’s perfectly fine. Never liked this room myself, anyhow. To room number four!”
The Queen lead them down the stairs, all the way to the Level Floor. “Why are we on the main floor?” The Spymaster asked. “Because there is a room I think you’d like,” the Queen replied cryptically. The Spymaster looked wary, but followed none the less.
The Queen opened a small door, painted teal. The Spymaster liked it imediately. “Here’s one we saved for a special guest. I believe you may just be that guest, but it would become your perminant room,” the Queen said. She opened the door, and the Spymaster walked in.
The walls were a dark, chocolate brown, with an accented wall in a beautiful alspice red. The bed was massive, a fourpost bed, with thick, beautiful curtains in browns and beiges and reds, with the comforter in purples and browns and reds itself. The windows were open and huge, with seats at the bottom, with many pillows and blankets, with bookshelves in the walls and storage underneath. Thick curtains and thin, the thin being closer to the outside, framed them. Two glass doors lead outside to a small, secluded garden, full of decedent plants. A thick rug was on the floor, and all the remaining furnature was colored in blues and teals and purples and greens and yellows.
The Spymaster walked to the door they guessed was the bathroom, to find another small room. There was another couple of doors, but she was impressed by the massive vanity that took up an entire wall, with a massive mirror. She opened the door to her immediate left. It opened into a huge closet, which she figured she could put her armor and such in there. The next was next to the vanity, and she admitted, she hadn’t skipped to something in a long time. Inside, a shallow pool and dripping shower(?) stood proud.
“Yes, that can have a shower, but a proper one is in that small cubicle right there,” the Queen said, pointing to the right. The Spymaster walked over and opened it, surprised to see it was transparent. “Uhm...”
“Don’t worry. You can see out, and they can’t see in,” the Queen assured. “Oh... that’s good.” The Spymaster looked across the way. “What’s that?”
“Hot room. Sauna. Different words in different countries,” the Queen explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ll show you how it works at a different time.”
“Thank you.”
They returned to the bedroom. “Now, where am I to hold meetings with my spies, once we gain them?” She asked. The Queen thought for a moment before pointing to a door that was between the Spymaster’s bed and a dresser. “There’s a room through there. Originally a training room, but it’ll work for your purposes,” she said.
They walked through the door, and the Spymaster was impressed. It was large, circular, with high cielings. It’d be perfect for training and telling people what was to come. There were small areas to rest, thankfully, and seemed to be in a softer color scheme. “It’s perfect,” she sighed.
“Wonderful! Now, what do you want for your spies?”
“As in, what race or...?” The Spymaster knew how some races could get. The Elves, with their damned pointy ears, refused to talk to Dwarves on principle, and vice versa, while humans and Orcs would rather tear each other’s throats out, stating that the other was smarter and better at combat, while the Ulashgigs refused to help anyone, and even attacked those that entered their swamps.
“No, dear, what you look for in your spies. Certain character traits, body types,” the Queen explained calmly. “Oh... lithe, able to scale walls easily, or willing to learn. Not afraid to get their hands dirty. A few con artists and grifters wouldn’t be amiss,” the Spymaster mused. “Ok. Anything else?”
The Spymaster thought for a moment before looking at the Queen with a hard glint in their eye. “People who have been refused by anyone. Those that are outcasted for no reason. I don’t want monsters, but I want the orphans, the veterns, the rare and few. I want those that have no where else to go. You can always teach a large set man how to scale a wall. Give him a use.”
“And if those veterans or orphans are crippled?” The Queen pried. “Mentally ill?”
“Then we help them,” the Spymaster replied. “I lost a leg myself,” she admitted, kicking her prothsetic against the ground, letting the muffled clang reach their ears. “And I was told I was a retarded child because I refused to walk until I was 2. I know the people I want, Queen. And I want those just like me.”
The Queen’s smile turned into a grin. “My son chose right,” she gasped in joy, tears falling down her face. “We needed a Spymaster for years, my husband is just...”
“Stubborn?”
“That’s a kind way of putting it.”
They shared a laugh before the Spymaster looked over at her new training room.
“When should you be able to get my first recruits in?”
“First thing in the morning,” the Queen replied. “Good... Where shall they be staying?”
“I’m sure I can make a good argument to have them housed in this corridor.” The Spymaster grinned. “Perfect. We’ll get started tomorrow morning.”
The Queen nodded, turning and leaving out a door to their right. “I will see you then, Spymaster.”
The next day, the Spymaster was up early, staring at the room. “Maybe I should’ve gotten this ready...” she muttered to herself. The door to her right swung open, and in stepped the Queen with two recruits. “They came willingly,” she assured.
“Good.” The Spymaster clapped her hands together. “Welcome to your first Training Course. Let’s begin!”
(Sorry if it ain’t all y’all expected. If I wanna make a series outta this, gotta make sure we know where shit’s taken place at. Hopefully, if this does keep going, the castle and the lands will be touched on more, along with the different races and sides and so on and so forth. Hope it’s at least passable!)
#writing prompt#I'm proud and not at the same time???#but this will all be a series of one shots that aren't really edited#who knows I may make a series outta this#a book if I'm feeling ambitious
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BURN THE HOUSE DOWN (Part 2 of 3)
ROYAI WEEK 2017
PROMPT: Day #7 (6/11) - Incendiary RATING:Teens (swearing, innuendoes) WORD COUNT: 2977 (Part II only)
Rebecca will do anything for her best friend, Riza. Tonight, she’ll do whatever it takes to give her a shot at happiness, no matter how brief it may be. If only that damn bastard Mustang would take a hint…
PART I | PART II | PART III (coming soon)
This story happens immediately after the events of Roy Mustang Observation Diary, where Falman was still a sergeant (instead of a warrant officer), and Fuery was a private, up until the end where Roy promoted him to sergeant, at least according to the English translation floating around the net.
I’ve split the fic into three parts now because I ended up adding almost 3000 words by the time I finished reading two-thirds of the original Part II. I can’t help it. I love Rebecca and Team Mustang, especially Fuery!!
HAPPY ROYAI DAY, EVERYONE~!!
PART II: CHAIN REACTION
Friday, 23:08 hours Dining Room (Turned into a Club), The Verve, East City
After all the preparations had been done, everyone finally settled around the rectangular table in their VIP booth. Rebecca unfurled the curtain divider by the entrance to give their group some privacy.
Riza took note of the seating arrangement. Across her was her best friend sitting on a plush ottoman, her back to the curtain. To Rebecca’s right were Breda and Falman, both sitting on one of the three loveseats in their booth. To her left were Fuery and Havoc, the former trying to rest his head on the taller man’s arm and failing miserably. Finally, Riza shared the last loveseat with the colonel.
The booth was rather small for seven people, and the loveseats smaller still. Riza’s right leg brushed against Roy’s left every time she moved. The contact made her hyperaware of their proximity which was already challenging the limits of propriety – at least for a commanding officer and his subordinate.
The game hadn’t even started yet…
…and knowing Rebecca, nothing less than inappropriate would happen for the rest of their night if she had a say in it.
“Young and wild and free, remember?” The blonde woman muttered to herself. She released a sigh, which did not go unnoticed.
“Is there something wrong, lieutenant?” Roy whispered in her ear, startling her.
She wordlessly shook her head, then shifted her gaze to Rebecca who let out an exaggerated cough.
“Are you done whispering sweet nothings to each other?” She raised an eyebrow at the two highest-ranked officers in the booth.
“We weren’t-“
“It’s not like-“
The dark-haired woman did not let them finish. Instead she clapped her hands as she began speaking.
“With that out of the way, shall we set the rules?" she winked at the rest of them.
Fuery nodded overenthusiastically that his eyeglasses were knocked off his face. “Oops!”
“One man down,” Breda muttered sardonically. “I repeat, we have one man down.”
Falman snickered beside him.
Mustang rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “How do you propose we play this juvenile game, 2nd Lt. Catalina?”
“Hmmm… since we’re all adults here, I propose that we up the ante right from the start!” she answered jovially. “How about instead of the typical truth or dare, we make it shot and truth or shot and dare? After all, the good colonel here already prepared a bottle of some nice vodka.”
Riza massaged her temple after hearing Rebecca’s idea. Things were definitely going to get messy.
“One more thing,” the colonel interjected. “No passing and no changing of choice, alright?”
With his right hand raised, Havoc inquired, “Any objections?”
There were none.
Breda placed the empty champagne bottle at the center of the table, then asked. “Everybody ready?”
Grunts and nods of assent were given, and the bottle finally spun to life.
“…and for the first blood we have…” Havoc commented, serving as the host for the game.
Everyone watched as the bottle slowed down to a stop and its neck pointed to…
“Falman!” the chain smoker called out loudly, using the unopened bottle of vodka as a makeshift microphone.
The man scratched his head in anticipation.
“Soooo… Sgt. Falman, shot with the truth or a dare?” Havoc asked seriously, getting into his role a little too earnestly.
The gray-haired man gulped before choosing the former.
“Does anyone have a question for our good man Falman?” Havoc looked around the table.
While waiting for a response, Roy pried the bottle of vodka from the blonde second lieutenant’s hand to pour a shot for the first ‘victim’ of the night.
Riza almost wanted to stop their commanding officer, but then she realized that the guys plus Rebecca were only trying to have some fun. Their work could be so stressful, and sometimes only alcohol could make them forget for a while.
She was well aware of this. After all, she and Rebecca used to drown their sorrows and stresses in cheap tequila during their academy days. Her best friend introduced her to the wonders – and the subsequent horrors – of hard liquor, and Riza was never the same afterwards. Rebecca once told her drunkenly that it’s what best friends were for. At least Riza knew she’s not going down as easily as Fuery already did. She’d had training with Rebecca, and she learned a few other tricks during the war so she’s pretty confident she could outdrink Falman and Havoc at best.
For some reason, Breda was not drinking as much as he usually did, only sticking to beer since they started drinking. Maybe he knew what a nightmare the hangover would be tomorrow. Wine, beer, and hard liquor made the nastiest mix – the one which always resulted to a monster headache that refused to go away for an entire day.
“Wait, I do!” Breda hollered with a diabolical grin after an awkward moment of silence.
Speaking of the devil… Riza thought wryly.
“Sgt. Falman!” The hefty lieutenant turned to him. “Who do you think is hotter, 1st. Lt. Hawkeye or 2nd Lt. Catalina, and why?”
Falman swallowed hard and then froze in place.
“You’re forgetting something!” Fuery pointed to the vodka-filled shot glass. “Shot first~!!”
The light-haired sergeant downed the liquor, then blurted out, “I think both of them are equally attractive. I mean, 1st Lt. Hawkeye has the cool, calm appeal, while 2nd Lt. Catalina has the messy, vivacious charm.” He took a breath, as if bracing himself for the worst, and then continued, “and I’m pretty sure all the men here would agree that the ladies are very, very, very sexy with their impossibly long legs and all those curves…”
Falman ceased talking when he saw Riza’s eyes narrowing. Meanwhile, Rebecca relished the compliments without hesitation, winking at the terrified man.
“Enough with the flattery, sergeant.” Riza demanded briskly.
“Aww, Riza. He was just being honest!” Rebecca whined. She turned to the blushing sergeant. “Thank you for noticing out feminine assets, and for appreciating them! It’s nice to know that someone still sees us as women even if we work for the military.”
“Thank you, Sgt. Falman.” The blonde woman’s stony visage melted into a small smile.
Roy cleared his throat and said, “Let’s move on to the next one.”
Falman spun the bottle and it pointed to Fuery. The dark-haired young man grabbed the vodka bottle, poured himself a shot, then swallowed it in a blink. Everyone was stunned into silence, until Havoc resumed his commentator-slash-host duties.
“Up next we have the newly promoted, and currently inebriated Sgt. Fuery!”
It was Falman’s turn to ask. “Truth or dare, sergeant?”
“A real man always goes for a dare!” Fuery declared proudly.
“A dare it is.” Falman placed a finger under his chin and remained silent for a minute. He suddenly slammed a hand on the table. “I dare you to ask for a girl’s number in five minutes!”
“SAY WHAT?!?!” Fuery seemed to sober up a little from the dare.
“We agreed on the rules, Fuery.” Breda said matter-of-factly, wiggling his index finger as he did so. “You can’t pass or change your choice. Be a man and ask a girl – any girl – for her number.”
Fuery left their booth to complete his mission. Havoc slid the curtains to one side so everyone had a view of his progress.
Riza felt Roy shift in his seat. She looked at him and was surprised to see that his gaze was already on her.
“Are you alright, sir?” she inquired quietly, holding his stare.
“Yes, of course,” he assured her. “I’m just starting to feel the effects of the whiskey.” He tilted the empty glass in his hand. “It’s my fifth one already.”
“Then I suggest you stop drinking, colonel,” she stated firmly. Roy simply nodded. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he only grinned adorably.
He leaned towards her, then whispered, “A few more drinks won’t kill me, lieutenant.” He moved closer still, until he was practically breathing against her ear, “but your dress tonight sure did.”
Riza rolled her eyes as she gently pushed him away. “Sir, I believe you’re being too close for comfort… closer that what is proper, in fact.”
He looked at her sadly, but said nothing in response.
All of a sudden, boisterous cheering filled the booth as Fuery returned from his task, dispelling the heavy mood that settled between Roy and her.
Riza exhaled in relief. The tension between them was quickly becoming unbearable. His gentle teasing and subtle flirtation were not helping at all. She wished he wouldn’t be so obvious with his feelings since they were currently in public.
But then again, she was at fault, too. She let her guard down because she was enjoying herself immensely. How many times did she dream of going out with him like this? Did he have any idea know how much she envied all the girls he dated since they came back from the war?
She shook her head slightly to clear her mind.
There was no point in dwelling on regrets and everything else that she could not change.
It was time to move on.
She joined in the clapping when Fuery – with a kiss mark on his left cheek – showed off the paper napkin with some girl’s number on it. Then he promptly passed out next to Havoc.
Riza could not help but chuckle at their youngest member’s antics.
It was going to be a long night so she might as well enjoy it.
After all, she was young and wild and free and only twenty-three.
At least for tonight.
Friday, 23:23 hours Dining Room (Turned into a Club), The Verve, East City
Rebecca stole a glance to her left where Fuery was passed out, his head lolling against the back of the loveseat.
Her lips formed a smirk. She hadn’t felt this giddy while playing Spin the Bottle since she was thirteen.
A chance finally appeared!
Fuery’s out of the game so anyone can ask a question or suggest a dare for the next round.
Now, if she could only find a way to make sure the bottle stops at either Riza or Mustang…
“I’ll spin for Fuery!” She announced eagerly, her hand already poised on the bottle. “Ready or not~!”
Please let it stop at Riza or the Flame Bastard. Rebecca called upon the favors of all the deity she had ever known, even if she herself was a non-believer. Please, oh god, anyone, the stars, the universe…
Somewhere, somebody heard her plea and granted her wish.
“Would you look at that?!” Havoc cried out in false bewilderment. “The next victim is the Hawk’s Eye herself: our dearest 1st Lt. Hawkeye~!!”
“I’ll ask her!” Rebecca volunteered before anyone else could interfere with her plan. “Drink up first, Riza!”
Everyone watched as the lady of the minute gracefully knocked back the vodka shot.
Trust Riza to make everything look so classy and oh so sexy. Rebecca smiled smugly. Mustang’s practically drooling like a dog from the view.
“Truth or dare, lieutenant?” The colonel asked her promptly.
The rest of the team waited with baited breath for her answer.
Meanwhile, Rebecca was getting impatient. The suspense was killing her.
“I choose…” Riza trailed off as she surveyed their expressions.
Fuery’s loud snoring broke the silence, and then Riza finally said, “Truth.”
Sounds of disappointment filled the booth.
“So Riza…” Rebecca clapped her hands once, signifying the start of her interrogation. “Would you please tell us how many people you’ve kissed so far, and who was the best one?”
The first lieutenant’s eyes widened so much upon hearing the question, then quickly narrowed into slits and focused solely on her best friend.
“This is a complete betrayal, Rebecca.” She stated coldly. “You’ll pay for this.”
“Please answer the question, sir!” Falman insisted weakly. “Rules are rules…”
“Fine.” Riza acquiesced, the annoyance remaining in her voice. “I’ve kissed two people in my life.”
“Really?! But you’re so pretty!” Fuery interjected out of nowhere. Falman almost fell from his seat from the shock.
The blonde woman smiled kindly at the drunk sergeant. “Thank you for the compliment, Sgt. Fuery, but I’m sorry to burst your bubble. I don’t go around kissing people at random, pretty or not.”
The youngest soldier’s eyes widened, then he blushed furiously. “I’m so, so, soooo sorry, first lieutenant. I’m shutting up now.”
“Good idea.” Breda gave him a thumbs-up. The bespectacled man returned it with a droopy-eyed smile, then slumped against the sofa once more.
“And for your best kiss…?” Mustang inquired cautiously.
“Ooooh, careful there, colonel.” Havoc warned playfully, wagging his finger at him. “Your interest may be misconstrued as sexual harassment~!” He finished in a sing-song voice.
Riza brushed off the comment. “It’s fine, sir.” She then turned to her best friend. “For your information, 2nd Lt. Catalina, my best kiss was you, when we were in the academy.”
The men froze in their seats, their eyes wide as saucers.
“I mean, it was the best one because I don’t remember much, so I’m simply assuming that it’s better than the one I had with the other person.”
Rebecca burst into hysterical giggling. “Ohmigod, Riza! Did you really have to do that?! Look at them – poor men. You just gave them a heart attack and some good stuff for their fantasies.” She said in between peals of laughter.
The female second lieutenant might have been half crazy from all the laughing, but she definitely did not miss the look of mixed surprise and disappointment in Mustang’s eyes.
So Mustang’s the other person Riza had kissed before. Rebecca noted silently. Gotcha!
“But I’m being serious here.” Riza deadpanned. “Oh, and by the way, Rebecca has the softest lips, in case you’re wondering.”
An awkward silence pervaded the tiny booth.
Then it was Riza’s turn to burst into uninhibited laughter, slapping Mustang’s left thigh with her right hand every few seconds while covering her mouth with her other hand. The others simply stared at her. It was the first time they ever saw her lose all control over her emotions.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped as she recovered her breath. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Without any warning, Mustang gently cupped her face.
The room stilled once again – including Riza this time – as the colonel slowly moved his thumbs across her cheeks to carefully wipe off the tears streaming down her face.
“That’s enough, lieutenant,” he told her gently, as if she were a child. “You’re ruining your immaculate make up.”
“Pardon me, sir. I–“ She began to justify her actions, but her commanding officer beat her to it.
“It’s OK, lieutenant.” He murmured, beaming at her adoringly. “I’m glad you’re having a good time, but there’s no need to ruin your pretty face while doing so.”
“Ahem,” Rebecca interrupted their tender moment with a fake cough. “Can we move on now, please?”
Mustang immediately dropped his hands to his lap, while Riza turned in her seat so she was facing her best friend once more. Both were acting as if nothing had happened a minute earlier.
Oh wow, Mustang has lost it. Maybe the alcohol has gone into his head. Rebecca thought. And I believe Riza’s rather tipsy, too! Perfect~!!
The rest of them pretended they saw nothing as well.
Riza reached for the bottle and spun it.
“The next round is for…” Havoc paused, waiting for the bottle to stop.
“You!” Breda announced with a finger pointed towards his best friend.
The blonde man grinned widely. “It’s about damn time I got some action!”
He grabbed the shot glass that Falman refilled, then declared boldly, “Dare.”
It was Riza’s turn, and – if Rebecca knew her friend well – this meant it’s payback time.
The smirk on Riza’s lips looked eerily similar to that of her commanding officer when he was up to no good.
It was plain evil.
“2nd Lt. Havoc, I dare you to ask Rebecca for a kiss.” The blonde sniper said simply.
It wasn’t as shocking as the dark-haired woman thought it would be.
“Wait a minute!” Mustang demanded harshly. “Isn’t that against the law? You do know that fraternization is illegal, right?”
Out of the blue, Rebecca let out a shrill scream.
“That’s not true!” Fuery asserted passionately with his index finger still poised in a poking stance near Rebecca’s waist. “It’s not fraternization, colonel! It’s just a game, right?!”
He poked her once again. The dark-haired woman shoved him back to his seat.
Mustang cleared his throat to garner their attention.
“Let’s all agree that everything that we’ve seen and heard tonight will never go out of this group. Ever.” Mustang looked at each of them in the eyes as he spoke. “Do I have your word for it?”
Everyone else in the room raised his or her right hand in salute, then replied solemnly, “Yes, sir!”
The colonel smirked, then declared smugly, “What are you waiting for, Havoc? Go get her.”
Before anyone knew what was happening, Havoc was already kneeling next to Rebecca and was reaching out for her hand.
“May I kiss you, my beautiful lady?” He requested suavely, his voice dropping an octave or two.
Fuery was squealing like a schoolgirl next to them, effectively ruining the moment.
Rebecca was blushing heavily now, and her head was reeling from embarrassment, but the alcohol she had consumed seemed to have flushed out every drop of inhibition in her system a long time ago.
Her instincts were telling her to kiss him.
So she did.
And it felt amazing.
Havoc pulled away before the kiss deepened, but it was still so satisfying.
Rebecca remained in a daze minutes later, temporarily forgetting her mission for the night.
I swear, the next part will be the last one. I’ll upload it once I’m done obsessing over the details of the conclusion.
#royaiweek17#royai#havolina#riza hawkeye#roy mustang#rebecca catalina#jean havoc#kain fuery#heymans breada#vato falman#fullmetal alchemist#FMA#my stories#kite's fanfics#FMA fanfiction
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Could you write a McKirk “We live in adjacent apartments and one day I accidentally knocked a hole in the wall and into your living room I’m really sorry oh my god you’re naked” AU from captanjamestkirk's AU post pretty please? Bonus points if the naked person was engaged in a rather personal activity if you know what I mean (wink)(wink) Honestly I just want to read McKirk in a slightly awkward, cracky situation which may escalate to some hotness. Thank you and love your work!
Jim loves his neighbor. Handsome, grumpy doctor McCoy. Who has an adorable daughter who comes over every other weekend. Jim speaks to her more than he does to Leonard, though. Not for a lack of trying, but whenever Jim tries to start a conversation, Leonard’s usually busy. Probably real busy, not always a lame excuse to get away. They’ve had an occasional beer together, but they’re not much more than neighbors and acquaintances who tell each other hello when they see each other out on the streets or in grocery stores.
Jim gets really drunk with Scotty on Saturday, and he stumbles home. The game is on TV quietly, but instead of watching Jim is mostly texting Scotty and Uhura. For some stupid fucking reason, way past midnight, he decides his house is due renovation. An open kitchen, because the wall dividing the kitchen from his living room has been bothering him for some time. He bought the place a few years back, though never really did much construction on it. A few walls can really use some reconstruction.
He stumbles down in the basement of his apartment, and there he finds a sledgehammer. Perfect. He can just knock out the wall, and eventually start on constructing his kitchen. Tomorrow, post hangover. First, that wall’s gotta go. The wall in his apartment is actually weak enough that he smashes a big hole into it in just one go. And then when he leans against that broken wall, he falls straight through.
Turns out, it’s not the wall to his kitchen he’s broken down, but the wall straight into the adjacent apartment. He sits up straight, a little confused and disoriented. “What. The. Fuck?!” Leonard calls out. When Jim looks up, he’s in Leonard’s bedroom. And Leonard’s not alone. “Leonard-” “JIM,” Leonard shouts at him. Jim watches in interest when Leonard’s partner - a guy - gets up and rushes to grab his clothes. He’s out in no time. “Look what you did,” Leonard says, reaching out for the covers to cover himself up. Jim scrambles to his feet. “Look, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to break open my kitchen,” Jim says. “Well, you fucking missed!” "I’ll pay for the repair costs,“ Jim says. “You better,” Leonard replies. Jim watches with interest as the other one keeps the sheets pulled up high. “Sorry ‘bout your date.” “Wasn’t exactly a date. Now shut up, leave, and cover up that hole in the wall!“
Jim falls asleep on his couch instead of his bed. The couch faces the wall, and waking up is a bitter reminder of his own stupidity. Though, maybe it’s not all bad; he pries his eyes open just in time to watch a very nude Leonard pass by that hole in the wall. Holy shit. When the other passes by again, he’s dressed (which, real shame), and he catches his glance. “Hey,” Jim says, “I’m really sorry about last night.” “Just fix the damn hole in the wall,” Leonard says. Then, after a few seconds of silence, the doctor adds: “D'you want breakfast? I made scrambled egg.” Jim gets up immediately, and steps through that wall.
So rather than getting that hole fixed, Jim uses it to visit Bones all the time. Sure, he gets a construction worker to look at the costs, make it look all official, but really, he hasn’t exactly signed that contract when Leonard still invites him over for drinks, dinner, and even occasionally comes over to watch TV with Jim. “How am I ever gonna bring people home again when there’s a giant man-sized hole in my bedroom, connecting me to my stupid neighbor?” Leonard complains, openly to Jim, too, and Jim huffs. “Excuse me,” Jim says, looking insulted, “I’m a great neighbor.” “You ruined my chance to have sex,” Leonard says, and Jim chuckles. “You haven’t asked me,” he replies. Leonard hesitates, frowning at Jim like he’s trying to figure that out. “… What?” “I mean, I would sleep with you,” Jim says casually, shrugging a little. He looks at Jim, reaching out to grab the other man’s shirt; pulling him in closer. “Okay,” Leonard says. “Okay?” Jim asks. “Yeah,” Leonard says, “let’s do it.”
They agree on casual, but Jim knows from the get go that this is gonna be more than casual. Just the way that Jim stays the night from day one they decide to sleep together means it’s more than just casual. Leonard makes him breakfast, too, and it’s something Jim grows so used to that even on nights when they’re not together, he just climbs through that hole in the wall and either joins Leonard in bed until the other gets up, or just walks to his kitchen to find food there.
Leonard is stupidly romantic, too. Jim comes home from work and throws his stuff on the couch, but he’s surprised by a pleasant scent. And when he investigates, Leonard’s reading a book on his bed, just quietly reading a book while there’s candles. On his nightstand. “What’s this?” Jim asks, raising an eyebrow. “It smells nice,” Leonard replies, “clean sheets, scented candles, you should try it sometimes.” “You’re the type who lights candles when taking a bath, too?” Jim mocks him with a grin, but Leonard just looks up with a smile. “Absolutely,” he says. Jim sits down next to him, pushing his book away and instead demanding that attention from him. “C’m here,” he says, cupping Leonard’s cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss, “you old romantic.” Leonard kisses him back, fingers tugging at his shirt eagerly. “You’re never going to fix that hole, are you?” Leonard asks, and Jim chuckles softly. “Right now, I’m gonna be focusing on a whole different ho-” Leonard interrupts him with a laugh, pulling the other in a little closer. “You’re terrible.”
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Here Comes the Groom: Chapter 1
Hiccup has ten days to convince Astrid to marry him, or both of them could meet a fate worse than death. The good thing is that he has all of Berk by his side, ready to help. The bad things is, Astrid hasn’t been friendly with him for over a year and very much hates him.
Prologue
Day 1
“No.”
Hiccup shook his head, trying to force himself to go back to sleep. It didn’t even matter that he was standing on a hard, wooden floor, or that there was a mead bottle in his hand, or that his cheek was already bruised and it might rip if it was met with such hard contact. Right now, he had a raging headache, and this was not something he wanted to see.
But then again, who really ever did want to see a sight like this? His mother, Gobber, Eret, Snotlout, the twins, and Fishlegs, all standing in his house, looking as though they were ready to give him a therapy session. Or worse, help him seduce his bride to be.
Because Astrid would so obviously be wooed by whatever romantic gesture Tuffnut Thorston had thought up.
Valka tsked. “You won’t get anywhere with that attitude, son. And have you been drinking?” Ignoring his scowl, she pried the bottle from his hands. Hiccup groaned and sank into a chair as Fishlegs pat his back sympathetically. It was too early for this.
“Hiccup, we just wanna help so that you don’t die. No big deal, right?” Fishlegs looked eager. “I mean, it is a wedding.” He squealed. “Oh, I’ve wanted to plan your wedding since forever!”
Hiccup shot a glare at Gobber. “Did you tell everyone in the village? Astrid can’t find out, you know, it’s -”
“I know. Only the people in this room know,” he said confidently, holding out a hand to reassure him. Valka drained the mead outside the window and Hiccup whined lightly, at which his mother shot him a disapproving look.
Hiccup stood up and stomped his foot. “The people in this room are…” He did a quick headcount, looking around. “Seven people too many.”
“Including me?” Eret asked dryly, raising his hand as he leaned against the wall.
“Why are you even here?” Hiccup asked, raising an eye. “I mean, no offense, but you haven’t showed that much interest in my relationship with Astrid before.”
Eret shrugged. “To be fair, I haven’t shown much interest in any -” He paused as he saw Ruffnut’s smirk. “No, stop it, we do not have a relationship.”
“As you wish, my yak chop,” Ruffnut said in a sing song voice, winking at Hiccup, who scowled even more. Seeing people flirting in his house, while he was clearly hungover thinking about his ex girlfriend who had punched him the day before, was not helping.
Eret sighed. “But Astrid is my friend. As are you, chief. I can do a small thing for my friends.”
“What small thing?” Hiccup asked, raising an eye. When everyone in the room simultaneously looked away, he cried out urgently, “What small thing are you talking about?”
Being a chief sucked. There was so much responsibility, and the ones who were close to you didn’t even see a reason to listen to you.
His mother soothingly rubbed his back. “We’re going to help you woo, Astrid. One day at a time.”
“Oh. Oh great,” he scoffed, “I’m dead. It was nice knowing you all!” he shouted, waving his arms.
Snotlout crossed his arms. “Hey, what makes you think we can’t help?”
Hiccup stared his cousin dead in the eye. “I really don’t want dating tips from a guy who hasn’t been on a date in his whole life, another guy who’s only dated one Berserk dragon rider, a guy who thinks shoving fish in someone’s face counts as romance” - Tuff made to interrupt but Hiccup went on - “his twin sister who either hates guys with a passion or is ready to jump them if possible, a dragon trapper who’s lived with men most his life, a blacksmith that isn’t even into girls, and…” He took a deep breath, before raising his voice. “A lady who’s lived with dragons for twenty years!”
Valka frowned. “Well, with that tone, no one’s going to date you.”
Hiccup didn’t answer. He sat down and buried his face in his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eret roll his eyes at the chief’s dramatic actions.
“Well, then,” Gobber said awkwardly, “today’s my turn. Are you ready?”
“Ready to jump off a cliff.”
“That’s the spirit, son,” Valka said as encouragingly as she could, looking at Gobber with a worried expression.
Astrid wasn’t in the arena this time. That only left the entire island to search, no big deal. Gobber’s plan repeated itself in his head, and Hiccup cringed. Oh, a bruised cheek was only the start of his pains.
Hiccup asked her mother, who, albeit very confusedly, told him that Astrid was on guard duty.
Oh. Right. Berk guard. He flew around the village, finally finding her leaning against the mountainside she was standing on. Without being too loud, he got off Toothless, offering him a fish, which he happily accepted.
Hiccup took a deep breath. “Astrid?”
She turned her head to look at him, and a scowl appeared on her face immediately. “Again? What is it this time, you wanna elope?”
“No,” he sighed, standing next to her when he was sure it was safe, “but…I meant what I said. I really do miss you.”
“So much that you wanted to marry me right then and there?” Astrid asked, looking irritated that he was even breathing the same air as her.
He offered her a weak smile. “Joke.”
“I don’t like jokes,” she snapped, finally actually looking him in the eye. Her stance showed that she was ready to fight. Her hair was out of place a bit, and there were bags under her eyes. Hiccup furrowed his brows in concern.
“Didn’t you sleep last night?”
“What are you trying to do, Hiccup?” Astrid said, frustrated. “Did you think that if you gave me time to - to heal and all that bullshit, we’d go back to the way we were?”
“I was just asking!” Hiccup snapped, his anger with her getting the best of him. “Excuse me for being worried!”
Astrid was always difficult. Maybe it was a good thing they had broken up after all. Their personalities were like Toothless’s two tailfins. Completely different. Just useful in different ways.
“I don’t need you to be worried!” she cried, standing up straight. “I can take care of my own damn self, Hiccup! Is - is that what this is? An inquiry about my health?” She gaped at him. “Did my mother put you up to this?”
He took a deep breath. “No. Astrid, I -”
“I hate you,” she snarled, clenching her fists and opening them again, “go to Hel, Hiccup. Leave me alone.”
“I don’t want to date you!” Hiccup shouted back, and then took a deep breath. That was both a lie and it wasn’t. He really didn’t wanna date her. But with his predicament, he had better want to or else he would die. ”All I wanted was to be friends again!”
Astrid stepped forward, and he stepped back, a nasty drop right behind him. “I’m not the one who broke our friendship, chief!” She spat the title out venomously, and that served to make him angrier, because it only reminded him of what she had done.
“Yes you did!” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his metal leg slipping for a brief second but ignoring it in his agitation. “You’re the one who -”
Before he could finish, he saw Astrid’s ears turn red as she screamed, stepping even closer, “That was an accident and you know it!”
It was one step to close. In his haste to get back, Hiccup slipped off the edge. He saw Astrid’s look of terror, and he closed his eyes as Toothless’s roar echoed in his ear.
But he didn’t even fall properly when a hand curled around his and Astrid’s gasp of breath echoed loudly around the walls. He looked up to see her clenching his hand tightly, her entire face now red as she hauled him up. Relief swept his body so hard he nearly passed out.
They both sat, then, panting. Hiccup leaned against the wall and Astrid looked down at where he would have fallen. She looked terrified, backing away as quickly as he had fallen. Toothless came up to Hiccup, and licked his face eagerly.
“Thanks,” Hiccup said quietly, when they both had calmed down a bit.
Astrid stood up, leaning against the wall like she had been when he found her. “Whatever.”
Time to put Gobber’s plan into action. Biting back his pride, Hiccup asked, “Would you like to go with me to an island tomorrow?”
Her head snapped up, but before she could speak, Hiccup held up his hands in surrender. “Not as a date. Like, as an…acquaintance. I haven’t been to this one yet, it’s too big, I’ve just scoured over it. I - I may need some human protection.” He scratched under Toothless’ chin before the dragon could protest. “And I think you’ve proved a lot of times that you can take care of both of us. This time being the most recent.”
A deep breath.
“I miss you, Astrid.”
This speech was rehearsed, and he felt bad for it. Because it didn’t matter how much they hated each other, it just wasn’t right to not be sincere unless you were dealing with…a killer. The irony of that struck him oddly. Astrid wasn’t a killer, he had to remind himself.
“Alright,” Astrid answered quietly, breaking his train of thought. Hiccup smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. Instead, she started walking down the mountain.
It was strange not to see her fly. He supposed he’d have to get used to it.
“AHEM, WHY DID THEY BREAK UP?” is the summary of reviews I got for the last chapter on Fanfiction.net. I wonder how this one will be…
Originally, it was gonna be Astrid who fell, but I’ve had a lot of Damselstrid in my life *cough* Race to the Edge *cough*
#httyd#hiccstrid#hiccup#astrid#toothless#and a whole lot of others i can't tag everyone man#i'm tired#it's friday#valkyrie stories
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