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petite-rambles · 4 years

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Jealousy

Pairing: Bakugo x reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: this is nsfw, my hand slipped oops, 18+

A/N: this went harder than I expected so the characters are aged up, whoops. Also (e/c) stands for eye color

Bakugo is not very good at expressing his feelings

Actually, he’s really bad with his emotions

Only in private will you know how he’s really feeling

Sometimes

Which makes things a little complicated

Because you won’t know when he’s upset until it’s too late

You and Kaminari have always been really close, he was practically your best friend at UA. He had taken you under his wing and the two of you got along flawlessly. You did everything together, which earned you a place in the bakusquad. That’s when Bakugo started to become interested in you, which was a relief because you had feelings for him too. It took a while for the both of you to admit your feelings to one another, but it was a weight off everyone’s shoulders when it finally happened. The tension between you was so obvious, even Midoriya could tell.

Once you and Bakugo started dating, that’s when things with Kaminari began to get a little more complicated. Bakugo would never admit he was jealous of the friendship that you had with Kaminari. It really wasn’t his place to say anything about it because the two of you have been great friends since the beginning of school. It just really bothered him when the two of you already had plans to hang out and Bakugo wanted some attention.

You and Kaminari had been sitting in the common room for a little while now, still debating on which movie you wanted to watch. You decided to hang out with him tonight because Bakugo had been preoccupied with something that involved Kirishima. He wouldn’t really tell you any details so you stopped asking. Picking a movie with Kaminari was always so hard, you two were either on the same wavelength or you wanted to watch two completely different things.

“Come on, let’s just put on a comedy! Don’t you wanna laugh?” Kaminari whined as he pulled the shared blanket closer to him.

“NO! That’s what we watched last time. Can’t you just indulge me for once?” You asked, tugging the blanket back towards you.

”There has to be compromise here.” He simply stated, snatching the remote away from you. He scrolled through Netflix for a bit before making his selection, “You want something scary, you psychopath, and I want something funny. So the answer is simple.”

You watched him pick Scary Movie and you simply just shrugged your shoulders, “I guess this is fine. Admit it, you just don’t like being scared.”

“You’re 100% right, I don’t. Now, why don’t you go get us some snacks?” Kaminari asked, snatching the entire blanket off you.

You sighed softly before getting up. You glared at Kaminari before making your way into the kitchen. You saw that Kirishima and Bakugo were in there too, sharing a very hushed conversation. Kirishima made eye contact with you before looking back at Bakugo, giving him a slight nudge. He turned and looked at you briefly before continuing to whisper with Kirishima. You shoot the two of them a confused look before raiding the cabinets, looking for some popcorn to make.

“Just tell her.” You heard Kirishima whisper poorly, “It’s not a big deal.”

You grabbed a package of popcorn before looking back at the pair. They were standing in front of the microwave, of course.

“Excuse me.” You mumbled, watching Kirishima push Bakugo aside gently. Bakugo turned slightly to look at you but didn’t say anything. Maybe Midoriya did something that pissed him off more than usual.

You went about your business at the microwave, every so often noticing how the boys kept glancing at you. It was starting to get on your nerves. Bakugo’s eyes just seemed different, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. Your eyes locked for a few moments before he waved Kirishima off. Kirishima went to say something but decided against it, just patting Bakugo on the shoulder before walking off. Bakugo turned his full attention to you, his bright red eyes locking with your (e/c) ones.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, taking a small step towards Bakugo. He seemed to huff quietly, rolling his eyes before closing the space between you. He put his hands on either side of you, pushing you up against the counter. You looked at him with slightly wide eyes as he pressed his body into yours.

“No, why do you have to keep hanging out with that dunce face.” Bakugo seemed to growl, bringing his face closer to yours.

“Bakugo, you know he’s my friend. I can’t just stop seeing him.” You whispered, feeling his hot breath on your cheek.

Bakugo let out a soft “tch” as he looked down at you. He used one finger to push your chin up to look at him, his lips just barely ghosting over yours.

“But I would rather have you with me.” Bakugo hummed in response, briefly connecting your lips before moving just out of your reach. You can’t help but let out a quiet whine, “Wouldn’t you agree, (y/n)?”

You bit your lip, choosing not to respond. Bakugo gave you a devilish smile before using his finger to push you head to the side, opening up your neck to him. You closed your eyes as Bakugo’s lips made contact with your neck. He kissed down it briefly before settling on a spot, beginning to bite and suck. You let out a soft moan and grabbed on to the front of his shirt roughly.

“I didn’t know you were this jealous.” You panted out, using your grip on his shirt to keep him close to you. Bakugo let out another “tch” against your neck before pulling away. You could already tell there was an angry looking mark on the side of your neck.

“I’m not jealous. I just think you spend too much time with this extra and not enough time with me.” Bakugo retorted, pushing your face back to look at him. His lips hovered over yours once again.

“(y/n)??” Kaminari called out, “I don’t know what you’re doing in there but I swear the popcorn was done like 5 minutes ago. Are you deaf?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes again before looking down at you, “Ditch him, come to my room instead.”

“Okay.” You mumbled quietly. Bakugo had a slight smirk on his face before giving you one rough kiss. He removed his body from yours before sauntering away. You let out a shaky breath before taking the popcorn out of the microwave.

You walked back into the common room and stood before Kaminari. He looked you up and down before settling on the fresh hickey on your neck.

“WOAH, someone was busy in the kitchen.” Kaminari teased.

“Yeah about that, I have to go. Something came up.” You mumbled, throwing the bag of popcorn at him. He let out a soft whine in response as you practically ran over to the elevator. You smashed the button a few times before the doors opened, pressing the button for Bakugo’s floor.

You hated ditching Kaminari like that, but Bakugo meant business and you know you had a good time ahead of you.

The elevator ride felt like it lasted an entire life time. As soon as the doors open, your legs guided you to Bakugo’s room. You quickly knocked and after a second the door opened. Bakugo looked you up and down before stepping back to let you in. You walked in and Bakugo shut the door behind you, locking it.

“Get on the bed.” Bakugo commanded, lust clouding his eyes. You quickly obeyed, sitting on the edge of his bed. Bakugo walked over to you, wedging his knee in between your legs. You gasped at the contact, spreading your legs for him to come closer.

Bakugo smiled at your actions before pushing you backwards, so you were laying on the bed. You looked up at him as he crawled on top of you with a smirk. Bakugo gently rolled his hips against yours before pushing his lips on to yours. You let out a soft gasp, which allowed his tongue access to your mouth. You eagerly wrapped your hands around his neck, tangling your hands in his hair. You could feel him smiling against your lips before gently biting on your bottom lip.

“Too many clothes.” Bakugo mumbled as he pulled away from you, using this opportunity to remove his shirt. You admired his body as he rolled his eyes, “That means you strip too.”

You huffed quietly, quickly removing your own clothes. You could feel Bakugo’s eyes following your every movement, watching you intently. It was like he was trying to engrave the image of your naked body into his brain forever. You took the opportunity to stare as he dropped his sweatpants, taking his hard cock in his own hand. You bit your lip as you sat up, pushing his own hand away.

“Are you going to take care of me?” Bakugo asked softly, shuffling closer to you. You licked your lips slightly before moving your hand up and down his length slowly.

“Yes Katsuki, I feel bad making you jealous.” You purred in response, moving your head closer to take a soft lick at the head of his cock.

“Dammit.” Bakugo groaned quietly, digging one of his hands firmly into your hair, “I wasn’t jealous, dumbass.”

“Sure.” You hummed in response. Before he had the chance to respond, you trailed your tongue up the underside of his cock before taking it into your mouth. Bakugo cursed quietly, tightening the grip he had on your hair. You carefully bobbed your head up and down, trying to keep a steady pace. You could feel Bakugo’s hand trying to urge your head faster. You put one of your hands on his thigh to keep yourself steady. He shuddered in response to your touch, throwing his head back when you sucked particularly hard.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to pull Bakugo closer to you. He thrusted his hips slightly, causing you to gag a little before pulling away. He looked down at you before using his hand to gently slap his cock against your cheek.

“What do you want?” He asked, gently stroking himself.

“You, Katsuki.” You said quietly reaching out to touch him. He pushed your hand away before smiling.

“Hands and knees.” Bakugo commanded, smiling wider as he watched you obey. You positioned yourself at the edge of the bed, arching your back to present yourself to Bakugo. He pushed your face into his mattress before giving your ass a firm slap. You cried out in response, your hands clawing into the blankets, “Be a good girl (y/n) and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

You went to respond but your mind went blank when you felt Bakugo’s finger gently trace your slit.

“You’re so wet for me. Is this just from you thinking about me and sucking my cock?” Bakugo asked, before pressing two fingers inside of you.

“Y-yes.” You whimpered out, Bakugo setting a slow pace. You tried to move your hips to get him to go faster, but he was quick to still your hips. You let out a soft whine, which resulted in another hard slap to your ass.

“Ah ah ah, be patient.” Bakugo hummed, slowing his fingers slightly. He used his free hand to spread your legs a little more, “I need to make sure you’re ready for me.”

You turn your head to look up him, just as he decides to add another finger. You let out a soft moan and dig your nails into the blankets, “Please Katsuki, I want you now. I need you.”

“Mmm okay baby, only because you begged so nicely.” Bakugo seemed to purr, slowly removing his fingers from you. You let out a soft whine as you watched him walk over to his bedside table, pulling out a condom. You watched as he opened it and slowly rolled it on to his cock before he resumed his position behind you.

You felt him roughly grab on to your hips and line himself up. He gently rubbed himself along your wet slit a few times before pushing in. His grip on your hips tightened as he slowly inched in, coming to a full stop when he fully bottomed out. You moaned softly at the feeling, him grunting in response when he felt you clench around him.

“Please move.” You whined. Bakugo let out a soft “tch” in response before slowly pulling out of you slightly. He snapped his hips back into, settling on a rough pace. You couldn’t stop the soft moans from escaping your lips. You tried to arch your hips more, giving Bakugo a better angle.

Bakugo let out a soft moan of his own, removing one hand from your hips and using it to group your hair into a make shift pony tail before pulling slightly. Your head lurched back and you let out a breathy moan. Bakugo grunted softly as he increased his pace, his hand on your hip feeling like the grip was tight enough to bruise.

The room was silent other than the soft sounds that fell from your lips and the sound of skin slapping skin. Bakugo would let out a soft grunt every once in a while. He pulled your hair roughly as he started to feel you clench more on his cock.

“Are you close, princess?” He purred, leaning his body over yours. He pressed his chest into your back, tugging at your hair so your face was off the mattress. You could hear his soft pants in your ear, his hot breath falling on your neck.

“Y-yes.” You moaned out softly, Bakugo using this as an opportunity to mark up your neck again. You felt him begin to nip and suck as his hand on your hip moved itself to your clit, rubbing quick circles.

You could feel your high quickly approaching, your breathing was beginning to get shaky.

“Cum for me.” Bakugo whispered softly in your ear, gently biting on your ear lobe.

You listened to his command, letting your orgasm take over your body. You cried out his name, letting your head fall back onto the mattress. Bakugo continued to fuck you through your high as he started to chase his own. He increased his pace, his hips aggressively snapping against yours. It didn’t take long for him to finish, calling out your name as his hips began to still. He waited a few moments before pulling out. Your body fell on to the bed as he removed the condom and threw it away.

You crawled up on the bed as Bakugo threw you one of his shirts and your panties. He had pulled his sweatpants back on before climbing into the bed next to you. You pulled on the clothes he gave you before cuddling into him. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, wrapping an arm around you to keep you close.

“See.” He hummed, “Wasn’t that better than hanging out with that stupid dunce face.”

“I don’t know.” You teased, “Maybe I should hang out with him more if this is how you’re going to get.”

“Don’t test me, dumbass.”

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theseerasures · 4 years

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JN(P)R anon here! See I also had come to the belief that they would never officially gain a new (singular) teammate for most all of the reasons you stated, but then Ren said that line about how ��[his] biggest failing was as a teammate, and as a partner.”

And it sorta felt like a distinction that wasn’t romantically meant, that while Jaune is his teammate, Nora is his partner. And with Jaune playing the comically awkward third wheel right after, it felt like a glaring reminder that he really doesn’t have a partner (neither in the team or the romantic sense).

Some folks have mentioned how they feel part of Jaune’s journey of moving forward without Pyrrha will be for him to gain a new LI (since that’s the common narrative choice), but RWBY has never been very romance focused. So then I got to wondering if his arc will actually involve gaining a new partner in the team-sense of the word, and thus JNR becomes a four-man team again.

In regard to their fighting style though, I really like that take! And “rearguard” feels like such a perfect word to use for them. It does make me wonder about their tandem work (come on Flower Power!) but I’m excited to see where they go from here.

whoops i meant to respond to this ages ago and then *gestures to everything that happened in Worthy*

i think that’s a valid take! i do wonder if at least some of what you’re talking about has already been accomplished, with Jaune and Oscar. Jaune spent so much time downright distrusting anyone who might have had a vague hand in Pyrrha’s death, and Oscar arguably got the brunt of that. then they both grew as people, and now in the Atlas arc Jaune seems especially attentive and protective of Oscar and his, uh. tendency to make the sacrifice play in ways reminiscent of Pyrrha Nikos? the combat order during Operation Kingslay (Jaune then Oscar then Ren then Nora) definitely seems to corroborate that.

if that’s the case i think it points to two things: first, that a new partner for Jaune does not necessarily mean JNR consolidating to be a four-man team again. Oscar could be considered Jaune’s partner and a part of JNPR, but one of Oscar’s strengths (as this season definitely shows) is in brokering alliances and partnerships with people who might be otherwise written off, which feeds back into my “JNPR isn’t so much 4+auxiliaries as just ever expanding” theory. and second, that maybe the direction Jaune’s character is going is that he doesn’t actually need a partner in the traditional sense, because thus far Oscar certainly hasn’t been that. it’s entirely possible that my “Arkos 5eva” goggles are obfuscating things, but i don’t think there’s anything wrong with Jaune...not resigning himself to it, but accepting the fact that Pyrrha was his partner in a way that he can never get back, and maybe he doesn’t need or want to try anymore. that he’s happy with the people he has now, even if he has them differently. that to me would again represent a radical expansion of Ozpin’s ideas about how people come and stay together, and is especially pertinent because...that’s what Salem couldn’t do, all the way back in the beginning.

#Anonymous #this show's balancing act between like. rejecting destiny and red strings #while at the same time embracing Good Place style soulmates is...#fascinating and always worth reevaluating i think #like if a seventeen year old said to ME that he doesn't think he'll ever find love again i'd raise an eyebrow #but jaune and pyrrha also fought the opening act of a war together and...who DOESN'T feel that way about pyrrha nikos tbh #rwby #jaune arc

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trellanyx · 3 years

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Dark!Stolas AU

I started to send a prompt to @vizowrites after reading the latest installment of her Dark!Stolas AU, then realized I wanted to write it instead. lol This is meant to be a direct sequel to Where You Belong. Thanks for letting me play in the sandbox for a bit bb!

Fic Warnings: This is an AU where Blitzo does not want to have sex with Stolas, and only does so in order to have continued access to the grimoire. Stolas has no qualms about using this leverage to keep Blitzo in line, or ignoring Blitzo’s boundaries. Nothing sexual happens in this fic, but if you don’t like reading fics based off this premise, this isn’t for you. Like the title says, Stolas is not a good person here.

“And you,” Stolas said, his gaze flashing back to Striker with a near break-neck speed, flashing in a surge of barely contained power that still seemed to simmer just beneath the surface. “While I admire that terribly forceful nature of yours, I highly suggest that you remember just to whom you are speaking. And just to whom you owe your continued opportunities that keep your schedules oh so busy. Which reminds me, darling Blitzy….bring the book with you to our next meeting.”

“Blitzy! There you are, darling.”

Regrettably, Blitzo thought. He placed the book on its usual place on the nightstand and shucked off his coat. Stolas loved it when his favorite toy showed such ‘enthusiasm’, not noticing, or perhaps not caring, that Blitzo’s only motivation was to get the night over with as quickly as possible.

He didn’t know which option was worse.

“Look, can we skip the roleplay tonight? My back has been bitching at me all day.”

Stolas giggled. “Ah yes. Isn’t that post-coital ache just delightful? I know my best mornings always happen when I can’t walk straight.”

Blitzo rolled his eyes. In the beginning, he’d respond to comments like that with something along the lines of, “I hear a good ass whooping produces the same result”, but Stolas always interpreted those retorts as encouragement, and Blitzo eventually stopped bothering. He nodded to where Stolas was decadently sprawled along a twilight-violet chaise. “That the spot you’ve decided on?”

“As thrilling as it is to be the center of such undivided attention,” purred Stolas, “I’d actually prefer we take things slower tonight. It feels like ages since we’ve had the chance to simply…talk.” Stolas’s eyes gleamed scarlet, all four of them pinned directly on Blitzo. “Given both of our busy schedules, after all.”

Blitzo stiffened, feeling his stomach shrivel with a sudden chill of terror.

“Stolas--”

“Sit, please,” said the prince, waving a hand at a matching armchair Blitzo knew hadn’t been there a moment ago. “I’m as eager to receive your glorious cock as you are to give it to me, but another need must be satisfied first.”

The words tumbled out of Blitzo so quickly they nearly slurred together. “If this is about what happened at the office, I swear--”

“I said sit.”

Blitzo’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click. He power-walked to the chair, unwilling to risk finding out what Stolas might do if he thought Blitzo was taking too long. But Stolas only giggled again, as if seeing Blitzo so flustered was cute.

“Though since you bring it up, I would like to discuss what happened when I last tried to visit you. I fear there may be some…misunderstanding among your employees about just what our relationship is like, Blitzy.”

“We don’t have a relationship, Stolas,” snapped Blitzo. “We have an arrangement. I fuck you, you don’t fuck over my business. Cut and fucking dry.”

Stolas clucked his tongue. “Blitzy, we are lovers. You could at least try to put in a little romantic effort outside the bedroom.”

Blitzo bared his teeth. “I’m plenty romantic,” he said, in a moment of reckless defiance. “Just not with you.”

Stolas blinked, and Blitzo nearly bit through his own tongue. He did not, however, take back the words. He was engaged now, for fuck’s sake. And the memory of his fiancé almost spitting in the eyes of demon royalty was enough to give Blitzo just enough courage to wipe out his remaining fucks.

You wanna talk, bitch? Fine. Let’s talk.

Stolas tapped a claw against his thigh. “Are you now?” he asked, terribly soft. Blitzo opened his mouth to snarl back, but it hung open when Stolas suddenly beamed and said, “Why Blitzy, that’s wonderful!”

“….It is?”

“Of course!” trilled Stolas. “I’m so happy to hear there are other paramours in your life! Not surprised, of course, my dear little imp. Who could possibly resist such a beautiful and wickedly talented creature like yourself?” He laughed gaily. “I wondered why that fiery little fellow seemed so testy last we met. Jealousy, hm?” Stolas gave a sage little hoot. “I understand, Blitzy. Love makes fools of us all.”

Blitzo couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. “Striker, jealous of you? Listen bitch--”

“Blitzy, darling, it’s alright,” Stolas soothed. “I understand.”

Blitzo raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Do ya now?

“It’s not the first time I’ve been threatened over our little courtship,” said Stolas, still smiling. “At least he didn’t throw something at me! Poor Seymour,” he sighed. “Two centuries of care, gone in a blink and a crash. Fortunately my reflexes are better than my wife’s aim!”

“…Am I on drugs?” Blitzo wondered. “Is Verosika about to pop out with a horse head or somethin’? ‘Cause I’m not gonna lie, that’d actually be a pretty sweet upgrade for her.”

“Silly imp,” giggled Stolas. “Well! Now that that little bit of unpleasantness has been cleared up, I say we move on to more enjoyable activities. How about some refreshments before we start?”

Blitzo withheld a groan. Feeding each other was one of Stolas’s favorite forms of foreplay. He’d constantly nip at or suck on Blitzo’s fingers, to say nothing of how often he’d pretend to feed Blitzo a strawberry or something before replacing it with his mouth at the last second. But if it got Stolas to stop asking questions about his and Striker’s relationship, Blitzo was up for anything.

“Just no strawberries, okay? Last time they made me break out in hives.”

“Alas, tonight I’m simply thirsty.” Stolas pulled a silver bell from his robe and gave it a dainty ring. Then he winked at Blitzo and added, “Of course, that’s always my mood when you’re on my mind.”

A servant imp appeared almost instantaneously, carrying a tray with two shimmering glasses of wine.

“I really do feel much better now,” said Stolas, taking his glass.

“Good for you,” deadpanned Blitzo as the servant turned his way. “Now can we get on with--”

CRASH!

“FUCK!” Blitzo scrambled backward, tripping over the arm of the chair and falling onto the floor. His claws scratched the tile as he scooted backwards on his ass, away from the servant who was now a solid block of stone. Blitzo’s wineglass was shattered on the ground. Why…why did it look like the exact shade of blood?

Stolas took a long, indulgent sip of his own wine. “Wiggles, this is Blitzy. Blitzy, Wiggles.”

“Stolas, what the fuck?!”

“Wiggles hasn’t been with me as long as Seymour was,” Stolas continued, not needing to raise his voice to talk over Blitzo’s panicked yelling. “I daresay Wiggles isn’t even his name, but that’s neither here nor there.”

The prince unfolded his unnaturally long legs and walked around the statue of Wiggles. “He’s a good servant, as far as imps go. Obedient, polite, deferential…he knows his place in the world and is content with it. Like Seymour was.” Stolas placed a hand on the top of Wiggles’s stone head. “And like Seymour…”

Blitzo realized what was coming a split second too late. “DON’T--!”

Stolas lightly pushed, and Wiggles fell forward. There was a sick crack when the statue hit the ground, and Blitzo watched in horror as Wiggles’s now detached head lay face-first in the puddle of wine. Stolas waved his hand, and the rest of the body crumbled into dust and rubble.

“Gone in a blink and a crash,” finished Stolas.

There was no flirting or good-natured silliness to Stolas now. He stared down at Blitzo with cold disappointment. Blitzo barely dared to breathe, let alone move.

“Let’s not forget what our actual roles are, my precious little imp,” murmured Stolas. “You are exceedingly good at what you can do with your body, and because of that, I allow your little family venture to succeed. Every time you rendezvous with the world above, you pay your way with my magic. Your daughter sleeps under a roof built from my generosity. Your lover fucks you in a bed gifted by my mercy. I could rip everything away from you, Blitzo. Everything you’ve ever touched. I wouldn’t even have to leave this room.”

Stolas knelt down, ignoring the way Blitzo flinched back. “But I don’t do that, darling. Because I love you. You’ve brought excitement and joy back into my world the likes of which I haven’t felt since my daughter was born. Of all my collections and all of my toys, you are my favorite.”

A crimson glow slowly bled into existence until it outlined Stolas’s entire body. Blitzo couldn’t look away from him, and wasn’t entirely sure that Stolas wasn’t making that possible. The air seemed to constrict around him, making his temples pound and his nose bleed.

“What you do with your time is your own business, Blitzo. But when I call on you, full moon or not, I expect you to answer,” whispered Stolas. The use of Blitzo’s full name stung him like a brand. “When I ask for privacy, I expect to not be interrupted. Above all, I expect you to make sure your associates know their place around us – and mind it. Do you understand?”

Blitzo jerked his head in as much of a nod as he could manage.

“They may hiss and spit all they like, but they will stay out of our way. Else I will remove them myself, and I will make you watch. Do you understand?”

Another nod.

“Say it, Blitzy.”

“…I understand,” said Blitzo through gritted teeth. The moment he did, the air returned to normal, leaving Blitzo gasping for air like a drowning man. Stolas finished his wine, and looked out the balcony window behind Blitzo.

“Ah! And there’s the moon. What a beautiful sight – not as lovely as you, of course.” Stolas cupped Blitzo’s cheek, looking at him with a familiar expression of lust. “Come darling,” he purred. “The night is still young, after all.”

#helluva boss #blitzo #stolas #helluva boss stolas #helluva boss blitzo #vizowrites #felt like stretching my evil writing muscles lol #thanks for letting me borrow him vizo!#does blitzo try to lay low or does he immediately go home that night like BABE GET YER RIFLE WE'RE GOING OWL HUNTING #it's up to you XD

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courtlyharlequin · 4 years

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Glass Walls

Warning(s): death mention, reader death, slight yandere themes (I don’t write yandere but like Malleus’s section came out pretty yanny whoops), mild angst, spoilers for Pomefiore’s chapter

Summary: Thin glass walls of a coffin separate Vil and Malleus from their darlings. They’re so close yet so far. They’re no longer present. They’re no longer here to comfort their lover, leaving Vil and Malleus writhe in guilt over their deaths.

A/N: I felt angsty so you get to feel angsty too ☆

Vil Schoenheit:

Your skin was as pale as ever. It was ashy and translucent to the point where your veins were visible underneath that thin layer of derma. It was in dire need of moisturizer. Exfoliation doesn’t sound so bad either. A spa day would be nice, wouldn’t it?

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Vil chuckled at himself as he crouched before the sleek glass coffin, placing a bouquet of hyacinths by your side.

“Hello, fairest,” he said.

The wind blew past his braids.

It was quiet. Too quiet. He always remembered you being animated and full of life. This was a change that he had yet to adjust to.

“I’m sorry for not visiting you sooner. I’ve been busy. I… I got a new modeling job. It’s hectic, but fun. I wish you could see me now, (y/n).”

His gloved hand caressed the glass that kept his hand from touching your face. His brows furrowed. He sighed.

Every now and then he found himself standing before your grave, gifting you with flowers and telling stories about his life since your passing. Your friends had moved on. So did your family. But he, Vil Schoenheit, [the] Land of Pyroxene’s biggest supermodel and filmmaker, was engulfed in the web of time, glued to the past like a helpless insect caught in amber sap. Even in an eternal slumber, you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger. He was a lovesick dunce.

It was pathetic, really, especially when he was the one who brought you into that sorry state.

That apple was for Neige, you blundering fool! Why did you have to bite out of it? It wasn’t meant to be like this. Fairest, you were so beautiful. Why did you ever leave? Why was your heart so kind and naive that it took the fall for his envious scheme?

Fairest, you’re such a foolish soul.

Malleus Draconia:

“My king, it’s time to go. You have a conference with the war council to attend.”

“Lilia, I don’t want to leave their side. They’ll be lonely.”

“Malleus, you have priorities as king of the Valley of Thorns. You can visit them after your duties.”

“Then will you allow me a moment of privacy? I wish to bid them farewell.”

“As you will, my lord,” the elder responded.

As his footsteps faded, Malleus turned to your coffin. Embellished in the most pristine gems and the finest embroidery, held upright by brambles and briars, your youth never faded. The horned mage inched closer to your small frame, pressing his palms against the glass. He kissed the cool surface. He kissed you with great fervor.

The experience wasn’t the same as he remembered, but it’s been ages ago since his lips met yours. The last time Malleus kissed you was when he attempted to counter his own curse.

True love’s kiss was the surefire method for undoing any spell yet when he graced your lips with a small peck, nothing happened. Your body was lifeless. After all of these years, you remained in that coffin, collecting dust and fading away from the memories of your mortal companions.

Though Malleus could never forget— not when he was responsible for taking your life so soon.

Oh, but wouldn’t you agree that your expression was a peaceful one? Such features bring him joy in all of this despair.

“Malleus. It’s time.”

“Right.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios #vil schoenheit x reader #malleus draconia x reader #angst #fave

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herotome · 2 years

Note

I think tumblr ate up my second ask?? Anyway it's the Madagascar anon here!! I meant to clarify that there is no door slamming trope in Madagascar, in the scene Alex says "Hi there!" to Mort and Mort (who is already frightened) immediately starts to cry thinking Alex is going to hurt him - you can check the clip on youtube it's called "Alex the lion makes Mort cry" - Thank you for responding anyway!!

Oh I guess Tumblr sure did! And then... this marinated in my drafts a lil too long because I can’t embed youtube links on mobile and was waiting to get on my desktop. :’) Whoops!

(This is a follow-up message to this ask from three days ago.)

youtube

Here's the video for anyone else who might not have seen it... .... Didn't they use this exact gag in Ice Age? Pfft.

#RO: warden #fastest way to make Warden retract a job offer and try to find someone to take care of you instead #herotome ask #Herotome MC

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wavesmp3 · 4 years

Text

before the bucket falls

jeonghan x (female) reader

requested from sensory prompt #33: the feel of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade genre: study abroad/university au + apocalyptic-ish wc: 4k warnings: implied nudity i guess, maybe a few curses as well a/n: i apologize that this took me ages to finish, also the bucket list is completed out of order, enjoy!!

(0. Hear That There’s A Week Until The End Of The World)

You hadn’t expected to be so nonchalant when you hear that the world is ending in a week. Hadn’t expected to so readily accept you and your classmates inability to return home from studying abroad for the semester. And you certainly hadn’t expected to sit down with Jeonghan that afternoon (an acquaintance-made-friend in the whirlwind of apocalypse news) to create a list of things to do before the world ends.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” he declares scribbling one final item on the bucket list before folding the paper and shoving it in his pocket, “and hopefully we finish before the world goes up in flames.”

(6. Bang On The Hood Of A Car And Say ‘Hey, I’m Walking Here!’)

Your first day before the end of the world begins with you and Jeonghan searching for a car.

“This one is...” Jeonghan frowns, rereading the sixth item on the bucket list. Looking up, he says, “it was your idea wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Now, get in the car and pretend to almost run me over.”

Jeonghan complies, starting the car and driving towards you all too slowly. Still, when he gets close enough, you bang on the hood of the car, half-laughing and half-yelling “hey, I’m walking here!” He only laughs at you incredulously.

You switch after that, you in the car and Jeonghan walking across the street. And this time, when you get close to his figure instead of banging on the hood, you hear a small thud and watch him fall to the floor. You run out of the car shrieking his name only to find him on the ground laughing.

“I thought-” you exhale, breath hot with a mix of shock and relief, “I thought I actually hit you.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say a word too busy literally rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach in laughter. And when you shove him, kneeling on the ground and smacking his arm for freaking you out, he only laughs harder.

(3. Steal Something)

Unsurprisingly, number three on the list is Jeonghan’s idea. You don’t argue, not at first at least. But when you step into the convenience store and begin shoving bags of chips under your shirt and bottles of soda into your bag, you start to feel the small push of your consciousness.

“Is this a good idea?” You say to Jeonghan who’s deciding which kinds of candy he wants to hide in his pockets.

“There’s no one even here.” He waves you off pointing at the empty cash register. “So honestly I’m not even convinced if this counts as completing number three.” Deciding on a chocolate bar, he turns on his heel, grabs an extra bottle of juice, and exits the store casually.

(11. Perform Three Acts Of Kindness)

You leave some money at the unmanned cash register anyways. “Number eleven,” you say to him when he gives you a look, “it can be our first act of kindness.” He stares at you for a long moment, as if deciding how he should react to your inability to shoplift. You half expect him to walk back into the empty store and take your money from the counter. He doesn’t though. Instead, he smiles, a lopsided one that makes some part of your stomach twist uncomfortably, and laughs towards the ground, his head hanging in a way that makes his bangs fall in front of his eyes. You feel suddenly, almost foolishly, warm.

“Come,” he beckons, pulling at your sleeve, “let’s eat.”

(10. Eat The Perfect Meal)

The perfect meal isn’t actually perfect, an odd mix of convenience store snacks and whatever you both had left in your dorms.

“We should have cooked something ourselves,” Jeonghan mumbles, between a mouthful of chips, “the perfect meal has to be made with love.”

“It also has to be edible,” you retort, sipping your coffee and recalling your earlier realization that neither you or Jeonghan can cook.

And it’s after a few more moments of eating away the tenth item on your shared bucket list that he asks, “how do you think it’ll happen?” You look up from your fruit cup. “How do you think the world is gonna end?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, “something big perhaps. An explosion?”

“Or Zombies?” he continues for you, light-heartedly. “Aliens, maybe?”

And perhaps two days ago, you would’ve laughed at the possibility of the world coming to an end thanks to an alien invasion, but right now, sitting next to Jeonghan with yesterday’s headlines bouncing back and forth in your head, you don’t feel anything but melancholic. And like feet sinking into sand, you realize for the second time since the news came out that you have less than a week left to live. With a hopeless sigh, you say, “I hope that when the world ends, it’s painless.”

And unlike his previous suggestions, there’s nothing light-hearted about the way Jeonghan adds, “something quick.”

(4. Sing A Song Loudly In Public)

You had wrongly assumed that this particular bucket list item was meant to be a fun and embarrassing karaoke in public sort of thing. But when Jeonghan stands on the ledge of the fountain in the center of the plaza and begins singing, you realize you've created a bucket list with an angel. Or at least, a boy with the voice of one. The plaza isn’t very busy this afternoon, but the few passersby that happen to catch his mini concert erupt in a well-earned applause when the song finishes.

“You can sing?” You question in disbelief of just how good his voice sounds.

He shrugs at that, jumping off the ledge in a shy sort of way that doesn’t at all match the kind of guy you pegged Jeonghan to be. “Your turn.” He pushes you towards the ledge.

You almost fight against the nudge, almost turn around and tell Jeonghan just how tone deaf you are. But when he smiles your way and cheers your name encouragingly, you decide the embarrassment might be worth it.

It’s not, it turns out. The entire plaza seems to murmur ‘why is she singing?’ the second you open your mouth. And it’s before you even reach the second verse that Jeonghan starts clapping and whooping for you. “Wow!” He exclaims cheerfully. “You suck.”

You burst into laughter at that, cut your song short, and jump off the ledge grabbing Jeonghan’s hand and running away from the embarrassment with him close behind.

—

“Where’d you learn how to sing like that?” You finally ask, later than afternoon as you and Jeonghan aimlessly walk along the street.

He shrugs again, a familiar timidness overwhelming his body, then tells you about the singing lessons he used to take. “It used to be my dream. To become a singer.”

“Used to?”

He sucks in his bottom lip. “Things changed I guess.”

You decide not to prod further. “If you could do anything right now, right before the world ends, what would you do?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

He thinks it over for a moment, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. “Hold a concert.” He answers finally. And when you give him a look, a reminder of what he said about things changing, he just smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and mutters something about how dreams die hard. And for the third time today, you’re surprised by how shy Jeonghan gets about his singing and how endearing you find it when he does.

“What about you?” He returns this question, pushing the attention away from himself. “What would you do?”

“I’d go home.” You say quietly, hoping the press of sadness that comes with thinking about home doesn’t show in your voice. “See my family once more before the world ends.” And when Jeonghan doesn’t respond or meet your eyes, you laugh, unable to procure a more creative reaction. “It’s kinda lame, isn’t it?”

“‘No, no.” He says quickly, waving away the suggestion before the words can even settle in the air. “It’s not lame; it’s…” his voice trails off, fingers reaching out in front of him as if he’ll find the right words in the last remaining rays from the sun. His hand drops to the side. Seemingly, giving up on the previous sentence, he says, “Tell me about them. Your family.”

You’re about to say no. About to change the topic to something a bit lighter. Something that doesn’t force you to think about home and the people that you miss so fiercely and long to see once more. But it’s as the word ‘no’ bubbles in the back of your throat, that you meet Jeonghan’s eyes and find a starling amount of sincerity in them. And when you go looking for your intent to reject the request, you find it’s disappeared altogether. “Okay.” You exhale. “Where should I begin?”

And so you spend the rest of the day telling Jeonghan about your family, and by the time the sun begins to set, he tells you about his.

(12. Say Goodbye To Your Family)

You both decide it’s better to get this part of the list over with. Pulling out your phones and dialing home soon after the sun sets. It’s an odd sort of arrangement, you think to yourself listening to the phone ring, you and Jeonghan sitting on opposite sides of this empty street. “Privacy,” he had told you, walking away from you and taking a seat on the curb, “this way you can cry in private.”

It’s… bearable at first. You talk to your family, update them on what you’ve been doing since your last call home as if everything is normal, as if they’re expecting another update soon, as if the world isn’t ending in a few days. But the facade that everything is fine comes crashing down the second you hear a noise come from the other side of the road, a mangled sound that rushes all the way from Jeonghan’s mouth to you, banging at your heart and creating a dent between your lungs. And you suppose that if you were a little bit closer and if Jeonghan hadn’t turned around to put his back between him and you, you would’ve heard him sobbing. The thought alone ignites a flame of sadness that emerges from your lips, travels through the phone lines, and ripples across the ocean separating you and your family.

Saying goodbye to your family does not stay bearable for long.

He finishes the call before you. And when you do finally hang up, it takes ten minutes of calming down before you're in any state to walk across the road and greet Jeonghan for what feels like the first time that night.

“Can we, uh,” you stop, sniffle, then laugh at the absurdity of this moment, “can we stop here for today.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, finally standing from the floor. He doesn’t look your way, keeps his eyes trained to the ground while bringing a hand up to wipe at his nose and eyes. “I’ll walk you home.”

(5. Wish Upon A Star)

Sleep doesn’t come that night. You spend it tossing and turning in bed, replaying every bit of what was probably your last conversation with your family. At 2 am there’s a knock on your door. Jeonghan stands in the doorway, eyes drooping and blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“Yeah,” you say, opening the door and letting him in, “I can’t sleep either.”

After another moment, he finally says, “have you ever been to the roof?”

You let him lead the way.

—

The night air feels cool against your skin, brushing through your hair and sending a shiver across your skin. You pull your hoodie closer around you before laying down on the roof next to Jeonghan who throws his blanket so that it drapes over both of you.

“Which one for number five?” He says gesturing to the starry night sky.

“Number five?”

“Wish upon a star.” He reminds you.

You lift your hand and point to one off the center, a bright one that flickers more than the others. “That one.”

“Okay,” he exhales. You watch the breath leave from his lips. “Make a wish.”

You do.

“Which star do you think is gonna blow up and cause the end of the world?” He asks, shifting his body and ending up a fraction closer to you.

“Give me a crash course on all of them and I’ll let you know.”

He does, making up constellations and creating fake names for each one.

And at some point in his explanation of the origin of each star, his hand finds yours. The cold seems to wither away after that.

(1. Ride A Motorcycle)

“Are you sure you know how to ride this thing.” You question for the fifth time that morning, pacing around the moped and Jeonghan who’s sitting impatiently on it.

“Just get on would you?” He huffs, dropping the extra helmet on your head and pulling you towards the moped. You settle behind him, fixing your helmet and clasping it in place. “You know how to get to the beach right?”

“Yeah, but we just need to make a pit stop somewhere first.”

“That’s fine. Grab on.”

Ignoring the unevenness of your breath, you wrap your arms around his torso. You try not to think too hard about the way he momentarily tenses up when you do.

“Ready?”

“Please, don’t kill me on this thing. We’re all dying in a few days-” He doesn’t let you finish, revving the motorcycle and laughing when you scream into his shoulder.

(11. Perform Three Acts of Kindness)

“What are we here for?” Jeonghan wonders aloud, his voice echoing in the auditorium.

“Number 11. Our second act of kindness.” He looks at your quizzingly. “Yesterday you said that if you could do anything before the end of the world, you’d have your own concert. So here,” you hand him a mic and point at the empty stage, “go sing.”

You’ve never seen him run so excitedly.

(3. Steal Something)

When Jeonghan wrote down ‘steal something’, you definitely hadn’t expected him to coerce you into stealing a house. “This isn’t even stealing. This is trespassing.” You hiss under your breath, looking over your shoulder. “Plus, we already stole from the convenience store.”

“Firstly,” Jeonghan begins, finding an unlocked window to the beach house and cracking the adjacent door open, “you paid the store so that definitely didn’t count. Secondly, trespassing is basically just stealing space. And lastly,” he announces turning around and waving to the open beach house, “this place is gorgeous and free.”

You peer inside the house and--shit, it is gorgeous. “Fine.” You relent taking a step inside the house. He smiles triumphantly.

“Come on,” he grabs your hand as soon as you set your things down and starts pulling you towards the beach, “time for number two.”

(2. Send A Message In A Bottle)

“Who should we write to?”

“A friend?”

“An ex?” He grimaces at the suggestion.

“How about ourselves 10 years ago.”

You consider it. “Or what about,” you start tapping a finger against your chin, “ourselves 10 years from now.” He gives you a wary look. “Just in case this whole thing turns out to be a hoax.”

“Do you believe that?” he asks quietly.

You bite your lip. “Not really, no.”

“To myself,” Jeonghan scribbles on the paper, “ten years from now.”

And when you're both done with the letters, you fit them inside empty beer bottles and let the waves take them.

Inhaling the salty ocean scent, you watch the bottles float.

“This moment would feel a lot better if I didn’t feel like we just made marine pollution worse.”

(9. Go Skinny Dipping)

The water is freezing, cold against your bare skin and lapping by your shivering mouth.

“It’s not that cold.” Jeonghan laughs, splashing sea water in your face.

You splash him back. “For you maybe.”

“Tell me a secret.” He says suddenly, stopping and treading the water in front of you.

You think for a minute before answering. “I really like it when you sing.”

“That’s not a secret; it’s a confession.” He complains, flapping his hands in the water. With a teasing smirk, he adds, “next you’ll confess your undying love for me as well.”

You laugh, sort of, swallowing salt water in the movement and choking on the sudden intake.

Clearing your throat, you say, “give me an example of a good secret then.”

“Okay,” he hums, biting his lip and swimming closer towards you until your knees awkwardly bump into each other. You swallow at the proximity. “I’ve never been in love.”

“Never?”

He shakes his head. “Have you?”

“Once.” Something in your stomach turns. “Or at least I thought I was in love.”

“And what do you think now?”

You meet his eyes. They look strangely hopeful. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

His hand comes up, fingers trailing over your shoulder blade and lingering right above your collarbone. You shiver.

“Still cold?” He whispers.

No, you think, but your head nods ‘yes’ before the word comes out.

He swims back to shore. And soon after, you follow.

(13. Fall In Love)

You finish showering before Jeonghan, coming down the stairs of your stolen beach house and taking a seat on the stolen (but comfortable) couch. You look for the bucket list to cross out skinny dipping for him. And when you find the folded list in a pocket of Jeonghan’s bag, you realize that this is your first time seeing it since the night of its creation. You read over it carefully.

1. ride a motorcycle 2. send a message in a bottle 3. steal something 4. sing a song loudly in public 5. wish upon a star 6. bang on the hood of a car and say ‘hey, i’m walking here!’ 7. watch the sunrise 8. watch the sunset 9. go skinny dipping 10. eat the perfect meal 11. perform three acts of kindness 12. say goodbye to our families

And under the twelve that you and Jeonghan made together is another, additional bucket list item. Written in a different color pen and in his messy handwriting is:

13. get her to fall in love with me

“That shower felt so good.” Jeonghan’s voice comes traveling down the stairs. “I found sand in-” he stops, halts at the end of the banister upon seeing the paper between your hands.

“What do you mean ‘get her to fall in love with me’?” You gulp, holding up the list.

“Oh, that,” he laughs, awkwardly, slowly walking towards you, then stopping halfway as if he’s made a mistake, “I added it after you left that night. And, well, yeah.”

You stand up and go to him, meeting him halfway across the living room. “Jeonghan I-” you lose grasp of what you’re going to say next and elect to stare at him instead, studying the drop of water that falls from a strand of hair to his face. Decide instead to study the flutter of his lashes and the way his gaze darts between your eyes and your lips. He inhales. “Oh, fuck it.” you mutter finally, grabbing the collar of his tshirt and kissing him.

It takes a second for Jeonghan to react, too long your brain convinces you already beginning to pull your face away. But it’s as your lips leave his, that they crash together again, him pulling at your hips stumbling backwards until you knock your head against the wall, bodies flush. You wrap your arms around his neck, tangle your fingers through his wet hair. There’s a moan, you can’t be sure which one of you it comes from, but the sound of it has you feeling weak somewhere, everywhere.

“Upstairs,” you pant, when he pulls away for the smallest of seconds.

“Are you,” he pauses, lips hovering in front of yours and breath heavy against your skin, “are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you smile, noticing the flush in his face, glad he's just as affected, “I mean it’s on the bucket list.”

Jeonghan happily complies.

(7. Watch The Sunrise)

You both watch it in bed, from a window that seems to capture it perfectly.

“It’s pretty,” he states, holding a hand up in a straggling ray and watching it turn gold in the light.

“Only a few more left.”

(8. Watch The Sunset)

You watch it on the beach with a stolen towel from the stolen house under you. It’s beautiful really. A mesh of blues, pinks, orange, and purple.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sunset like this one,” you say inhaling the salty scent of the sea that lingers on your arms and legs and hands.

Jeonghan hums, absentmindedly enough for you to turn around to look at him laying on his back and playing with a loose strand from your hoodie instead.

“We can’t cross it off if you don’t actually watch it.” You tell him, finding his hand in yours and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

He shrugs. “I’ve seen enough sunsets.”

(11. Perform Three Acts Of Kindness)

“Last item,” Jeonghan murmurs one day, settling into bed next to you, “one final act of kindness.”

You poke at his chest. “What do you have planned for it?”

“This.” He says, pulling out a small slip of paper. You sit up. “I bought you a ticket.”

It takes you longer than it should to realize it’s a plane ticket home.

“How and when did you…” your voice drops away, the logical questions slipping off your tongue when you make a new realization. “There’s only one ticket.”

“Listen,” he starts, turning to face you properly. “I think you should take it.”

“No,” you refuse, shaking your head. He takes your face between your palms forcing you to stop and pay attention.

“Go home and see your family. That’s what you told me you’d do before the world ends.” He hesitates, releasing your face and taking your hands in his. Something feels entirely wrong when he starts to rub small circles into the back of them. “You only have a few days left. So go home. Say goodbye to me instead.”

“Things change,” you say a little too harshly, regurgitating what he told you earlier this week. “And I don’t know if I can go anymore.” You sputter out just barely, voice feeling suddenly course against your vocal chords, but what you mean to say is: I don’t know if I can go without you. “And besides,” you stress, putting the ticket back in his lap, “you can’t make me go.”

“Don’t you see,” he chuckles, a small, quiet sound that has no business making you feel as warm as it does, “I’m not making you go,” he meets your eyes again, and for some reason, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that this is the last time you’ll see them like this, “I’m asking you to.”

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

Text

dirtbags // 2: Lola

Summary: High school AU, 1984, Winter. It’s hard to make friends when you’re the new kid starting halfway through Junior year, but slowly Lola seems to be making a few. It’s much easier to have a rumour started about you, especially when you tend to make questionable choices at parties, but that’s much less fun.

A/N: 8173 words. Lola’s dad is the MVP, trust me. i meant to put this out a week ago whoops!! also im allowed to reference my own Queen oc as a treat. @bluehourmotel, @misscharlottelee and again, interludes are A Softer World quotes.

[ m a s t e r p o s t ]

the best revenge is living well. the second best revenge is fire ants.

The fact that after being in town for a total of two weeks, Lola’s closest friend is the gas station attendant a full fifteen minute drive away from her house is kind of sad. Not that she’s disappointed to be Mick’s friend, he’s got a dry sense of humor but a good heart and he’s refreshing honesty, but she’s been at this new school for about a week and a half, has already made out with at least one person, has possibly convinced said-person’s cousin that she’s trying to corrupt him, and started to make a name for herself - whether it’s good or bad is yet to be seen -, and yet Mick Mars, nineteen-year-old gas station attendant, apprentice electrician, and aspiring guitar player is her closest friend.

But she’s always been kind of terrible at making friends her own age.

“You have lost all respect from me,” Mick told her on Monday morning after the party, over the counter of the gas station as he’s ringing her up for her smokes and iced coffee before she went to school, “you could have picked anyone to mack on at that party, and you chose Tommy fuckin’ Lee?”

“He was nice to me, what was I meant to do?” Lola declared, realizing too late that that statement revealed absolutely too much about herself to a near stranger. Mick, however, just gives her a flat look.

“You need higher standards.” He doesn’t seem too phased by her. Lola takes this in stride, and nods, agreeing with a sigh.

“What time do you finish work?” She asks, changing the subjects quickly as she’s pulling out a bill from her back pocket, “dad said he’s happy to let you have a look at that weird light switch that doesn’t do anything that I was telling you about.”

“I finish at ten tonight, I’m working a double,” he groans at the very thought of it. Lola gives him a sympathetic look, and tells him to only come around if he’s up to it, otherwise leaving it for another day.

That’s the day that Lola realises the whole school knows about her and Tommy at the party, that she has Art with Charlotte before lunch, and also that Charlotte can’t look her in the eye.

Tuesday the school realises that she’s not just Lola Who Gives It Up For Free At Parties, but that she’s Lola The New Girl and that they don’t know anything about her beyond that. There’s a guy in her wood working class with long black hair and a dangerous smile that winks at her; she flips him off, knowing all he cared about was knowing if the rumours were true. She’s got AP French last period with that ginger from the party who wouldn’t stop laughing, Eileen; she’s a lot more serious, sober. The cheerleader, Heather, won’t stop giving her these weird, calculating looks.

Wednesday there’s a new rumour, that she was expelled from her last school. The population of the school hasn’t decided what exactly they think she was expelled for yet. Turns out she has English with that guy from her woodworking class, he just hadn’t turned up for their lesson on Monday; he sits at the back like Lola, in the other corner, and the teacher calls him Nikki in a tone like she’s already disappointed. Lola can see why, he fell asleep at his desk. Art last period with Charlotte; she still barely looks at Lola.

Thursday. Heather asks in AP French if Lola’s heard what everyone’s saying about her; her tone is sweet and dangerous in equal measure and Lola doesn’t trust what’s about to come out of her mouth. The new rumour is that Lola was expelled for sleeping with a teacher; something about the glint in Heather’s eye is cruel, and Lola asks her sweetly if she’s more jealous of Lola or the teacher. That shuts Heather up fast, and Eileen’s cough behind them sounds more like she’s trying to hide a laugh. But it still gets to her; Lola focuses so hard on ignoring the girls gossiping loudly about her at their station behind her in Home Economics that she burns the apple danishes she was attempting, and she throws the burnt pastries, and the tray they’d been cooking on, into the bin until she realises her mistake and sulkily fishes the tray out again. Thankfully, the teacher didn’t notice.

Friday, and Lola hasn’t paid much attention to Vince, whose house she’s been to but who she hadn’t properly met until their classes had P.E at the same time; he’s in the year below her, but still manages to sidle up to her while they’re both waiting for their teachers to prepare the field for whatever torture they’re masquerading as physical exercise today. She tells him to fuck off; there’s something about the way he conducts himself that she doesn’t like, like he’s putting on a show of being shallow and vain and the life of the party. Instead, Vince’s voice goes quiet and he tells her that Tommy’s a good kid with a good heart -

“You give this speech to everyone you caught making out at your parties, or just me, ‘cos you think I’m a bitch and I’m gonna hurt one of ‘your bros’?” She snapped, lip curling, and Vince’s brow creases into a frown, “I’m not his fucking girlfriend, we made out a little, you don’t have to act like I’m going to break his heart, so piss off.”

A moment passes, and he appears to don his shallow, playboy mask when he asks her slyly if the rumours are true. She shoves him hard enough that he skitters back a few feet, and Lola earns her first after school detention.

The thing is, she and Tommy are already on the same page about this, it was a what happens while drunk at a party stays at that party. Or at least, it’s meant to. Either way, Charlotte’s protectiveness, and Vince’s... attempt at protectiveness was unwarranted. Maybe it’s because Tommy, for whatever reason, has started hanging around Lola at lunch.

She doesn’t sit in the cafeteria like the rest of them, or even on that little section of the roof the intimidating pack of punks, rockers, and smokers have found a way to get to. Lola sits against the fence near the science building, close to the carpark that’s always open for some stupid reason, as though she’s contemplating bolting.

“Don’t you have friends?” Lola’s tone is kind of hard, and perhaps her words are on the nose, and a little cruel, but it’s Wednesday, and this is the third day in a row he’s found her and spent the entirety of lunch with her. They don’t speak much, Lola smokes and picks apart whatever her dad’s latest cooking experiment is before she eats it, and Tommy practices twirling his drumsticks.

“I have friends, do you?” Tommy responds, more than a little defensive, rubbing at his brow where he’d just managed to hit himself mid-drumstick-twirl, taken aback by her question. Lola gives him a flat look. “Someone told me you were expelled from your last school,” Tommy’s gaze shifts to the carpark, to the last car and it’s telltale rocking and fogged up windows.

“They say why?”

“Nah,” Tommy shakes his head, scowl softening as he gets back to practicing, “it true?” Lola’s picking out and eating the apple chunks from the slice of pie her father had packed for the day, still watching the car with the mildest of interest. She shakes her head. Tommy hums noncommittally. They spend the rest of lunch in silence.

“He keeps hanging out with me!” The following afternoon, Lola gripes to Mick on his smoke break after she gets out of school for the afternoon.

“You keep hanging out with me,” Mick points out, peeling the label off of a bottle of soda.

“And?”

“I don’t tell you to fuck off.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Because,” and Mick heaves a heavy sigh, like it pains him to admit, “we’re friends, Lola,” but he pauses and amends, “God knows why.”

“Fuck you, I’m a delight,” Lola huffs, and pulls her oversized denim jacket tighter around herself to ward off the chill of the afternoon breeze. If this were pretty much any other state, they’d be knee-deep in snow; thank God for LA, snow’s pretty for five minutes before it’s a pain.

“Do you tell him to fuck off?” Mick asks pointedly, as if exhausted that he has to spell it out for her. Lola’s quiet, but her answer’s clear. Mick clears his throat with a cough. Lola’s scowl deepens.

She brings it up to her father that night.

“Do you reckon Tommy’s trying to be my friend?” She asked, gaze intense as she focuses on slicing apples into little cubes. Leo, her father, who was kneeding a blend of spices into a ball of dough that would end up being a pie crust, paused.

“The kid who has been hanging out with you at lunch?” He thought for a moment, “the one from the party?”

“I told him it was nothing serious-” Lola tried, exasperatedly cutting the apples a little rougher, but her father’s warm, gentle laugh cut her off.

“Yes, I think he’s trying to be your friend,” he told her, which Lola hadn’t exactly wanted to hear, but the information was easier to digest coming from him than it was coming from Mick, “he obviously likes you -”

“But I told him -”

“I know, you told him it wasn’t serious, but dear, that doesn’t mean he likes you less as a person - you’re a very cool cat, I can see why he’d want to be your friend,” he gives her finger guns, and Lola can’t help but laugh softly at his attempt to be hip.

“Christ, dad,” Lola huffs, smiling fondly, but he’d managed to cheer her spirits considerably.

“I burnt my danishes today,” Lola’s voice goes quiet as she goes back to focusing on her task, and her dad makes a noise of intrigue, “got distracted and crisped the whole tray.”

“You’ll get ‘em next time; just fifteen minutes, remember?”

“Fifteen minutes, no distractions,” Lola agreed, almost by rote, thankful that he doesn’t ask about what had distracted her. She can still hear the whispered gossip and giggles that had come from the cooking station behind her in Home Economics.

Her dad knows that her peers think she was expelled from her last school, but she keeps her mouth shut about the fact that today they’d decided it was because she had relations with a teacher; he knows almost everything about her, but he didn’t need to know about a whole school calling her a slut. He’d blow it out of proportion, and it isn’t getting to her since she knew for a fact it wasn’t true.

They finish the apple pie with it’s rosemary and lemongrass crust in good spirits. The flavours don’t go together as well as Leo had hoped, but it’s another step closer to the perfect apple pie he’d been trying for. Leo packs her two of the leftover slices for lunch, as a not-so-subtle hint.

On Friday, Lola hands Tommy a plastic container with a piece of apple pie, with a rosemary and lemongrass crust in it.

“Is it poison?” He asks. Lola doesn’t look at him, picking the individual apple pieces out and eating them one at a time.

“The crust tastes weird if you eat it with the filling,” Lola’s voice is flat as she explains instead of answering, “but the apples are sweet.” She eats another cube of apple, then breaks off a corner of the golden, perfectly cooked crust, now cold and stiff from spending the night in the refrigerator.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“Eat it or don’t, I don’t care,” Lola tells him, hunching further in on herself; like this, she can’t see the way Tommy’s expression has broken out into a smile.

“Thanks Lola,” but the smile is evident in his voice, confirming all of her suspicions at once. Tommy took her at her word when she said the rumours weren’t true, even if the rest of the school believed them, so Lola supposes she’s actually okay with the fact that her second ever friend in the entirety of California is the marching band geek in the year below her who she made out with at a party once.

Also maybe she’s just kind of terrible at making friends.

you and me baby! we are the future! and the future is bleak.

“Wait, you’ve never met Nikki Sixx?” Tommy asked, sitting patiently with his back against the fence, his hand resting on her knee as she fills in the the nails of his left hand with black sharpie, “didn’t you go to his gig the other week?”

“I didn’t know anyone,” Lola pointed out, and Tommy makes a thoughtful noise.

“You’d love him, he’s so fucking cool,” he assured her, which made Lola give pause; Tommy also thinks Vince is fucking cool, and she wants to throw Vince out a window, “he was the one on bass.”

“The one in the leather pants?” Lola couldn’t help but smile at the memory; she’d appreciated it at the time, and could appreciate it now. Tommy, however, rolled his eyes.

“The girls love the leather pants,” he gave a quiet sigh, before adding, almost to himself, “wish I had leather pants.”

“Leather pants would look good on you,” Lola pinches at his thigh for a moment, and goes back to filling in his nails. missing Tommy’s pleased, flustered little smile.

“You know Freddie paints his nails like this,” Tommy says instead, changing the topic of conversation.

“Freddie?”

“Mercury. From Queen; you know Queen, right?” And he sounds kind of skeptical, like if she doesn’t know them, they can’t be friends anymore. Lola pauses again, her hand soft on Tommy’s where she’s filling in around his ring finger’s cuticle.

“I wanna climb John Deacon like a fucking tree,” she mutters, which startles a laugh out of Tommy, his hand jerking up to cover his mouth, making Lola leave a black line against his knee, through the rip in his jeans. When she looks up at him, however, her eyes are shining with mirth, “come on, man, you must have seen the video of them performing in Montreal last year!” And she licks her lips, watching Tommy’s blush grow steadily darker. After a beat, Lola bursts out laughing, shattering the tension and shifting to sit beside him, idly doodling on her own hand with the marker as Tommy shakes his head with amusement.

Lola starts humming Back Chat to herself, and Tommy leans his head back against the wire of the fence, listening for a moment.

“You and Charlie would get along great too,” he considers, and Lola doesn’t stop humming, nor does she look to him, “she likes Roger, but probably just because she thinks he’s pretty.” Lola can hear his eyeroll without even seeing it, and she’s not sure why, but she files that information away in the back of her mind; she’d never gotten an especially shallow vibe from Charlotte, but there was a uncertain undeniable appeal to Roger Taylor’s pretty-boy charm.

“Didn’t his girlfriend leave him for Bowie?” Lola asks mildly, barely pausing to speak between humming notes.

“Rocket Mercury?”

“Her name’s Rocket?” Lola snorts, finally looking at him, and Tommy’s lips twisted into an amused grin.

“Her name’s Ash, but everyone calls her Rocket,” he says, like he’s in the know, and Lola stays quiet, nodding and trying not to laugh, “and yeah, I think so, she’s been with a few people since him I think; Bowie, this girl from this English band Hawkwind, Elton John maybe? Or someone around him I think.” Tommy nods, and Lola’s kind of intrigued as to why he knows so much about Queen’s drummer’s partner, but something else has caught her attention.

“A girl from Hawkwind?” Tommy doesn’t seem to notice the way Lola’s voice has softened, or how her expression has dropped to something carefully neutral. She’s drawing a little flower on the knuckle of her thumb.

“One of their dancers, Stacy, maybe?” Tommy’s own tone is light, like he doesn’t even realise Lola’s hanging onto his every word regarding this one little detail about a woman she doesn’t even know, “was kind of a scandal, but it was years ago; she’s Freddie’s sister after all, maybe it’s genetic.”

“Genetic?”

“Liking girls and guys, you know?” And he pauses. Lola’s frozen beside him, the marker pressed hard against her skin, breath caught in her throat. He throws it out so casually, so easily. Her hands are shaking. The words so kind when he says them, so unlike what she’s used to hearing. Tommy’s already moved on to the next thought. “actually, I’m not sure if Freddie’s like, legit her brother, but anyways, she and Roger are back together; I’m glad.” As if a sixteen-year-old’s opinion on a rock legend’s love life mattered, “he seems happier with her, all his best live shows were when they were together.”

“I’d kill to play half as well as him,” it’s almost wistful when Tommy says it, interrupting Lola’s thoughts, his gaze trained on the sky, as if imagining he’s on stage himself. Lola lets out a long, quiet breath, recentering herself as she looks to him.

“You wanna play drums?”

“I can play drums,” Tommy tells her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but not nearly as good as Roger Fucking Taylor, can you imagine?” But Lola’s more focused on the -

“I thought you just played in the marching band, can you play, like, full -” and she sits forward, gesturing like she’s tapping on a full drumkit, eyes shinning. Suddenly, in the face of her rare, unrestrained smile, Tommy feels himself growing nervous, like he’ll let her down if he’s not actually as good as he thinks he is.

“I’ve got a kit in my garage,” he admits, and Lola pauses, letting her excitement simmer, as though realising it had gotten the best of her, breaking her cool and aloof facade.

“That’s cool as hell,” she does add, however, and Tommy beams.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, all flustered at even the slightest praise, “man, you’d really like Charlie, I know she looks all fancy and intimidating, but she’s a real softie inside.”

“You are really pushing hard for me to be friends with your cousin,” Lola notes, giving him a sidelong glance, and Tommy’s nose scrunches up, caught out.

“She thinks you’re trying to corrupt me,” he grumbles, “but if you guys met she’d know you’re not.”

“I am corrupting you,” Lola smirks, “next week I plan on peer pressuring you into smoking.”

“I’ve smoked before!” Tommy’s up in arms, like the implication that he hasn’t done something as low-level cool as smoking offends him.

“Dude I was kidding, I gave you half my cigarette yesterday,” Lola reminds him, and the bell rings.

While Lola was more than happy to let sleeping dogs lie, it appeared that Charlotte was not, and less than two days after her conversation with Tommy, Lola finds herself sitting by Charlotte’s side in their shared art class.

It’s the last class of the day, and Charlotte’s the one who sits by Lola. There’s no preamble, barely acknowledging the decision, just opening her notebook and focusing on the theory the teacher had already started to jot down on the whiteboard.

When they’re given free time, however, to work on personal projects, Charlotte opens her sketchbook and sharpens her pencil, and without looking at Lola, begins speaking quietly.

“Tommy thinks we’d get along,” Charlotte sounds completely innocent and perfectly harmless, but Lola remember how Charlotte had looked at her, part deer-in-the-headlights startled at the realisation, and knee-jerk protective fury, at Vince’s party when she realised who Lola had been kissing.

“So I’ve heard,” Lola doesn’t look up, but Charlotte’s pencil stills on her paper. After a beat, Lola turns to see Charlotte giving her a curious look. Propping her head up on her hand, Lola gives a thin, amused smile, “he also thinks I’d be good friends with Nikki Sixx; was he the one you yelled at, at the gig?”

Instead of being flustered or going red at the mention of the moment, Charlotte’s expression lights up, as if the idea somehow delights her, and slowly she’s nodding. All her earlier reservations and hostility was quickly leaving her.

“Yeah, actually I told Nikki you reminded me of him, actually -”

“I remind you of Nikki?” Lola’s grin widened, and she shifted to face Charlotte further.

“He’s kind of a tool -” Charlotte blurted after a moment of contemplation, and Lola’s eyebrows raised in amused surprise. Charlotte’s quick to backtrack, “I mean, I’m not saying you are- well, I don’t know you, but I mean, Tommy -” Charlotte frowns at that, expression falling as she considered quietly, “actually, I mean, I love him, but he’s not the greatest judge of character; he thinks Nikki hangs the stars, despite never really speaking to him,” she pauses and heaves a sigh of realisation, “that probably why he thinks so highly of him -”

“I thought they were friends,” Lola’s genuinely surprised, given how kindly Tommy had spoken of him.

“Half the school is terrified of Nikki, half seems to be in love with him; Tommy’s in the second half.”

“And which half are you?”

“I’m the only person who seems to think he’s just kind of a pest,” Charlotte’s response is surprisingly mild, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying.

“He’s talented, though,” Lola offers, and Charlotte looks back to her, as if brought from her own thoughts. There’s a pause, a lull. Lola puts down her pen, and turns more fully to Charlotte, stretching her arm out over the desk, and resting her head fully on it, like a particularly smug cat stretching out in the sun. Charlotte is slower to put down her pencil, but does so after another moment, pristine fingernails drumming against her sketchbook for a moment.

“He was talented,” Charlotte agreed, thought it sounds like she doesn’t quite want to, “my ex actually got me into his kind of music, he was a fan of Nikki’s too; I’d tell Nikki I enjoy his music but it’d go straight to his ego,” and she casts Lola a sidelong look, lips stretched into a smirk, which Lola returns.

“I am a little bit of a tool,” Lola finally admits with a self deprecating grin, and Charlotte shakes her head.

“You’d fucking love him,” Charlotte tells her, with a strained, sort of resigned huff of laughter, like the concept of them meeting was a little bit horrifying, and already exhausting.

“You like his kind of music,” Lola circled back around to quickly, “never pictured you as a hard rocker, you’re very...” and she trails down, looking at Charlotte’s pristine cheerleading uniform, and thick, black tights, the only thing protecting her legs from the Winter air. The blonde shifts a little uncomfortably under the scrutiny, brow furrowing.

“I know,” Charlotte says flatly, crossing her ankles, far too self aware in the moment, “you expect me to just be listening to nothing but Abba and Madonna all day?” She sneers, suddenly haughty again, and Lola licks her lips, intrigued; she can tell she’s pushed a button, and debates for a moment if she wants to press it further.

“Not all the time,” Lola said, sitting back up slowly, “but I mean, I’m kind of partial to Does Your Mother Know, there’s no shame in loving Abba,” she shrugs, and Charlotte lets herself visibly relax.

“Never pictured you as an Abba fan,” Charlotte actually grins.

There’s a distinct lack of hostility in the air between the two girls by the time the class ends, after spending the entire class gushing over various bands across a surprising range of genres, and Lola quickly finds she appreciates how wrong her initial impression of Charlotte had been.

As they’re leaving for the day, or well, Lola’s leaving, and Charlotte’s heading to cheer practice, the conversation lulls as Charlotte grows thoughtful.

“Hey, just... Tommy’s kind of a hopeless romantic,” and even as she speaks, she knows Lola’s growing irate at Charlotte’s hesitant tone, “and honestly, the girls he goes for usually don’t... they don’t usually give him the time of day, and he obviously thinks the world of you, I just don’t want you to -”

“I’ve told him that I don’t want to date him; he’s the one who keeps hanging around me,” Lola’s own tone appears to surprise Charlotte, now that she understands the root of the other girl’s protectiveness, “we’re...” and the word catches in Lola’s throat for a moment, knowing that speaking it makes it true, “friends.”

Lola glances at Charlotte out the corner of her eye, and sees the way Charlotte’s lips twist into a pleased little smirk.

“I was just making sure.”

love is stupid. happiness is admitting we aren’t better than stupid.

Leo Fields, thirty-nine years old, owner of soon-to-be-named Leo Diner’s in suburban LA, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, who worked in the luxurious Parker House restaurant in Boston and quit after ten years there, including three years as Sous Chef and one year as Head Chef, only to open his own 50s style diner a mere ten minutes away in Salem, has and will always claim his favourite food is Easy Cheese.

Once, a long time ago, Lola had asked him why.

She’s asked him a lot of things, why he’d left his high-end restaurant to essentially flip burgers, why he kept his hair long, what his tattoos meant -

Lola’s eight, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs while Leo was crushing garlic to add to their dinner, his hair tied back into a large bun atop his head.

“People will try and tell you that just because something is expensive, fancy, or higher class,” Leo had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at that, putting on a voice to make his daughter laugh, “that it’s better; they are wrong. If something brings you joy, it is better than all things that do not bring you joy, no matter how fancy the things you don’t like are,” he’d told her very seriously, “better is not real, better is what you believe; better for you means healthier, and that’s real, but when people use better to mean good, they mean that it’s good in their mind, and maybe you agree, but maybe you won’t.” And he scrapes the garlic into the pan and oil cooking on low as he then began dicing onions.

“I use all my fancy training and knowledge to make foods I think are better, but now I get to also serve them with a smile, and I get to talk to the people I’m giving the food to, get to know them, let them know they’re welcome here,” he tries to smile while his eyes are watering from the onions, almost finished cutting them. “People in my old fancy restaurant didn’t want that, they wanted you to think they were better than you, and if you thought their food wasn’t good, that’s because you’re not fancy enough, and you’re not welcome here.”

“But that’s wrong,” Lola said with a slight frown, looking to her father for confirmation, and after he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, he beamed.

“Exactly,” he nodded and scraped the diced onions into the pan too, moving easily about the kitchen to pull mince from the refrigerator, “people liking something different to you is actually great; if everyone in the world liked Easy Cheese, we’d never be able to buy it!” And Lola laughed at that, the example making it easy for her to understand his point, “but making them feel bad for liking those things, that’s bad; that’s why I have my hair long, why I have my tattoos, they’re part of who I am, they’re part of my family’s history and where I come from, and I like them. If someone else is rude to me because of them, then I know right away that’s not someone I want in my life. People like to think they’re better than other people for stupid reasons sometimes.”

“Like if they’re fancy or not?” Lola asks, and Leo gives her a fond smile and nod.

“Like if they’re fancy or not.”

Leo’s not sure if Lola even remembers this, but he does. So when Lola, seventeen years old, standing in the kitchen, eating a ham and Easy Cheese sandwich after school, tells him that Charlotte, the girl in her art class, Tommy-from-the-party’s cousin, complimented her jacket, the pin-and-patch-covered, black, denim, proto-crust-punk, heirloom he’d loaned to her since she’d asked to wear it when starting a new school, and had barely gone a day without it, he can read into her smile even when it’s hidden behind her sandwich.

“Sounds like she has good taste,” Leo leans his hip against the counter top, legs feeling the warmth of the oven where he’s got a loaf of herb and garlic bread baking away.

Lola spends a full twenty minutes enthusing about Charlotte’s taste in music, eyes bright and tone animated. He only interrupts her to hand her a packet of prosciutto and a bundle of asparagus, so she could help him prepare for dinner, but it doesn’t slow her down, hands working quickly, while Leo boiled potatoes and simmered some garlic in butter on a low heat.

Both Lola and Leo know why Lola’s been so hesitant to make friends since moving, and she knows he’d never push her into friendship, but Lola also knows it hurts him to see her lonely.

“Hey dad, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lola says after a long pause, finally taking a breath after she’s finished recounting her day to him, “you know Queen, right?”

“Do I know Queen?” Leo jokingly scoffed, “Lola, I’m the one who introduced you to Queen.” He reminded, and Lola gave a small smile, but her heart wasn’t in it; she wasn’t usually nervous, but talking about this sort of thing still made her heart race a little. Seeing her hesitant expression, Leo’s own softens, and he turns down the potatoes to turn his full attention to her, “what about Queen?”

“I didn’t know Freddie’s sister was with the drummer,” Lola starts, fiddling with the final piece of asparagus. She’s quick to follow it up before she can chicken out, “and I didn’t know... she’s like Bowie, and Fred, and... and me, you know?” Lola finally wraps up the final vegetable and places it on the glass baking tray with the rest, before she looks to her father who was watching her pensively, hoping he understands what she’s trying to say.

“That’s little Rocket Mercury you’re talking about, isn’t it?” He asked as a smile stretched across his lips, “I heard that about her, I always thought she was so cool, she worked on Spinal Tap, you remember I took you to see Spinal Tap a few months ago?”

Lola’s heart eases in her chest at his words, his warmth, the way he seems to reflect positively on the news. While Lola knew she didn’t have anything to worry about, since the whole reason Leo had taken her and moved across the country was her mother’s less-than-kind reaction to the news of Lola dating a girl, the memory of it all still made her nervous.

Leo’s entire face lights up, and he makes a loud exclamation, like suddenly remembering some vital information, snapping Lola out of her dwelling.

“How have I never played you any Dusty Springfield?” He announces, picking up the glass tray from the table and placing it to the side, “I’ve got some of her records in my collection,” the oven timer goes off and he asks Lola to watch the potatoes so they don’t overboil while he takes out the bread and puts the asparagus in, “Dusty’s like you too; she’s a pop-star from the sixties, lovely voice, told the Evening Standard she liked girls and boys all the way back in nineteen-seventy.” He says as he sets the timer for the asparagus, and Lola wraps her arms around him from behind, if only to hide how wide she’s smiling.

“She pretty?” Lola asked, grinning against his soft, woolen sweater. Leo gently pet her hands where they were wrapped around his middle, giving a warm laugh.

“Very; it’s no wonder girls and boys liked her too.”

Lola had never seen her father flinch in the face of change, and for that she would always be grateful for him. The only time she’d ever seen him lose his cool was when he’d come to her defense against her mother’s bigotted views; apart from that, she’d never known anyone more willing to go with the flow.

Take last week, for instance, Mick had taken Saturday off from the gas station to go look at the fixture Lola had mentioned not seemingly connected to anything. Leo had finally had the red and white, checkered floor installed earlier that week, and the booths had been reupholstered over Thursday and Friday in a shiny, inviting, deep peach, to compliment the warm aesthetic completed by the pleasantly sunny walls.

One of the many things about Lola is that she know when people look at her father, they never expect him to be the embodiment of sunshine; six-foot-something, built like a tank from doing a majority of the manual labor around his diners on his own. His traditional, Hawaiian tattoos were on full display today, across his chest, arms, and legs, wearing a singlet and shorts despite it being the middle of winter, after spending all morning hauling an industrial freezer into the kitchen, with what little help Lola could offer. He wears his long, wavy black hair in a ponytail down his back; the only thing that ever betrayed the warmth of his personality was the crows feet by his eyes, the laugh lines around his mouth, and the kindness in his eyes themselves.

Leo Fields, teddy-bear in the body of a GI Joe, took one look at Mick Mars, the weary, rather scrawny teenager with barely any face visible for his long, shaggy, dyed black hair, and gave him a bright smile, ushering him inside. He introduces himself, and immediate asks what kind of music Mick listened to.

“I fucking hate Kiss,” Mick had said immediately, knee-jerk hostility, the way he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other being the only giveaway to how intimidated he felt.

“They can be a lot some times,” Leo had shrugged, gesturing to the jukebox, “I’ve already put a few of my favourites in, you wanna see if anything catches your eye?” Mick moves quietly, as if afraid to make a noise, even stepping in combat boots he barely makes a sound, and Leo makes mention that he’s going to freshen up, and that Lola knows what switch needs to be looked at.

“Hendrix?” Mick says with a hint of pleased surprise, right before Leo leaves, and Lola’s father gives a nod.

“Put it on, man, turn it up loud; it’s Electric Ladyland in there, right?” And at Leo’s question, Mick nods. Leo gives a delighted thumbs up, and heads upstairs to the flat above the diner.

“That’s your dad?” Mick asks, voice low after Leo’s disappeared, hitting play on the Jimi Hendrix record. Lola’s sitting on the counter, swinging her legs; she knows looks like him, same face, same long, dark hair, same copper complexion, it’s usually the staggering difference in their respective physicalities that seemed to trip people up, so his confusion wasn’t a surprise.

“That’s my dad,” Lola agrees, with a slight nod, looking around the warm and inviting diner that still smelled like new vinyl from the seats. She’d light a candle or two later.

Lola knows the rumours going around town about the diner, about how it’s owner was a chef, about how it’s hopefully going to serve better food than the last owners, but also how everyone knew very little about the new owner beyond that. It made her giddy, like she had a secret, to know that her father was capable of blowing their expectations out of the water with his food alone. Back in Salem, Leo’s was known for restaurant-quality food at, well, diner prices. All the fries were hand cut, there was always home made pie or slice or cookies on sale, the beef patties were made with real mince and mixed with Leo’s special blend of herbs and spices, and fish was delivered fresh, daily.

Lola knew her father knew what it was like to be discriminated against based on his looks, and how hard he’d fought to prove his skills as a chef, so in turn, he hired based on attitude and experience, and trying to give those who may not have had a fair shot an opportunity. Leo had always paid well, treated his workers with kindness, and tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. The diner had only ever made a modest profit, despite it’s popularity, but it had never been about the money for her father.

Back at Lola’s old high school, if you were popular, you looked for a job at the mall, but if you were an outcast, a loner, or a stoner, you applied for Leo’s; her dad had the ability to bring out the best in people, no-one wanted to disappoint Leo.

Her dad would never go anything as gauche as brag, but he has always prided himself on the quality of his diner and his food, glad to be putting his years of training and experience to use for people who’s appreciate it.

Mick clears his throat, snapping Lola out of her thoughts.

“Light switch?”

Mick thinks the switch probably connected to an exhaust fan the previous owner had removed, which baffled both Lola and Leo, seeing as how they’d had several exhaust fans installed, and the idea that this place had it’s one removed is unthinkable; how had they ever gotten the smell out?

After, Leo invites Mick up to have a look through his record collection, to recommend some for the jukebox, while he attempted a maple and walnut soufflé.

The moment Mick mentions he wants to join a band, Leo lights up, peppers him with questions, what type of music he likes to play, his influences, what type of band he’d like to form. Seemingly unused to the overwhelming interest and positivity regarding his aspirations, Mick is almost startled into being forthcoming, and quickly warms to Lola’s dad.

While the soufflé’s in the oven, the three of them sit on the roof and smoke, while Leo reminisces about seeing Cream live, a few months after Lola was born, and how he’d swaddled her in his concert shirt, only for her to take a liking to it, and had used it as a blanket up until she started daycare. At hearing this, Lola ducks her head to hide her smile, knowing she still had that shirt, though it was more hole than shirt at this point, hanging in her cupboard.

Occasionally, when she looks to him, Lola sees Mick regarding her with confusion, and okay, maybe she can understand why; he knows her to be reserved and dry, but with Leo, she’s outgoing and talkative and smiles so wide he can see her teeth. There’s barely a hint of her aloof façade around her father, and as Mick spends more time with him, it’s clear he can see why.

“Mick’s cool,” Leo announces with a grin when Mick himself has left, putting foil over the leftover soufflé for later, while Lola washes the few dishes and is more than happy to agree with him.

They spend Sunday decorating the diner, making it look less sparse with photos and hanging and various bits of music and pop culture memorabilia, while the jukebox blared rock and roll. A few people pass by in time to see Lola and Leo in an air guitar competition, but neither of them really care. Leo’s looks more like home by the time the sun goes down.

there will always be someone better than you. but on the bright side, who cares?

Eileen sits next to her in AP French during the entire last week of school for the semester. Everything she does seems so perfectly calculated, this change in seating included, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Heather clicks her tongue, clearly annoyed that Eileen had taken the seat she had previously vacated the day Lola staked her own next to it, and judging by Eileen’s innocent little smile, that alone made it worth it.

Lola tries not to pay too much attention to Heather, pretty, mean, and popular, almost the exact stereotype Lola had assumed Charlotte to be before she’d actually befriended her. They only have French together, but Heather keeps watching her, Lola sees it out of the corner of her eye, but her glare has become more speculative, more thoughtful as the weeks have passed, and Lola’s not quite sure what to make of it. Whatever scathing personal attack Heather’s probably working on is her business, she doesn’t know shit about Lola, so Lola tries not to care.

Once Eileen sits next to Lola, the glare comes back in full force anyhow.

On Thursday, the last AP French lesson for the semester, Eileen offers Lola a stick of spearmint gum, and it feels kind of like a test. Lola takes the gum anyways, and Eileen smiles at her, surprisingly genuine.

“You’re Charlotte’s friend,” Lola says, and Eileen’s smile widens.

“You’re the girl who kissed her cousin,” she says. Lola’s whole expression falls, mouth flattening into a thin, unamused line, ready to go on the defensive.

“And?”

Eileen shrugs, says nothing more on the subject, instead, glancing at Lola’s hands.

“My mom would kill me for wearing black nail polish, but it looks so cool on you,” She says, and Lola bites back a jaded response about her own mother, looking to her own hands, and the fresh and shiny coat of polished she’d applied the night before.

“Your mom kind of sounds like an asshole, if black nail polish is enough to get her riled up,” Lola says, without even thinking about how harsh the words sounded, but once the words are out, she adds, “and I know from asshole moms,” for good measure. Internally, she’s berating herself; if she talks about her mom, she’s terrified that she’s eventually going to answer questions about her mom, like where she was, and why Lola hates her.

“She’s just a perfectionist, and I don’t think black would suit me anyhow, so it’s not really an issue,” Eileen responds, as if she barely cares that Lola implied her mother was an asshole, and Lola lets herself relax a little, “I’m partial to a french tip,” Eileen holds out her hands to show her own manicure, the pale pink and white practically gleaming, obviously salon done.

“I coloured Tommy’s nails with sharpie,” Lola says while looking at Eileen’s elegant fingers, and Eileen actually huffs a laugh at that.

“I saw; he’s very proud of them.”

Something in Lola’s chest tightens at that; Charlotte seemed to be a good enough judge of character, and she liked Eileen well enough, so that, for now, was good enough for Lola.

Perhaps that’s why Lola had taken so long to actually speak to Nikki Sixx, despite both Charlotte and Tommy being adamant they’d get along, Charlotte’s proclamation that Nikki was kind of a tool held her back.

It’s not that she doesn’t know who he is; she’s figured out the guy who sleeps through her English classes, is trying to make an acoustic guitar in shop, and who is part of her music classes - once she’d decided to show up to those - is the same person she’d seen on stage in leather pants back at the pub. The guy who Charlotte had yelled at. A tool. Apart from the week the rumours had started circulating about her, he never paid her much attention, so she never felt the need to introduce herself. If he was a tool, she could leave him well enough alone.

Until the first day of the Winter break, apparently. Though for the record, he was the one who spoke to her.

There were technically two music shops in the local mall, a ten minute walk from Lola’s flat above the diner; she’s glad to be close to the CBD, but it also means she can’t justify asking her dad for a ride when it would take her less time to walk than it would for him to find parking.

But Monday, December 27th, was absolutely fucking freezing.

The mall itself is teeming with people looking to spend the money they’d gotten over the holiday period, and the workers had already taken down the gaudy Christmas Tree that had sat in the middle of the food court.

Lola was there at her father’s behest, sticking up and handing out flyers announcing New Year’s Day as Leo’s grand opening, and that they were hiring. She gives everyone at the food court a flyer, sticks up several in various locations, and thinks about heading back to the food court for a second round, to catch any newcomers, or anyone she may have missed, when she spots the music shops.

Bass and Treble were owned by the same people, however Treble seemed to be geared towards more classical music, with pianos and violins and flutes and all manor of orchestra-esque instruments available, while Bass seemed to be committed to rock and roll.

Nikki Sixx finds Lola crouched in front of the display of sheet music on sale in Bass.

“Lola, right?”

Lola stands so fast at his voice that her head spins, but she tries not to let it show. She’s on alert when she looks at him, tense, already scowling, which only deepens when she sees who it is.

“Nikki Sixx,” his name is not a question when it leaves her lips, but he seems pleased rather than concerned, that his reputation apparently preceded him. He nods, and looks over at what she’d been examining.

“Anything good?” He asked, and Lola looks over her shoulder at the display. She’d been seriously considering a book of Elton John’s hits for piano before he’d come along.

“Still deciding; why?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, taking his time to look nonchalantly at the various amps nearby, “you look like you’d be into this sort of thing,” he notes, acting all smug and coy and weird; Lola rolled her eyes, but didn’t answer.

“You were at my gig, we’re you? Hanging out with that guy from the gas station, right? Mick?” Something about his tone had Lola on edge and defensive.

“You guys were okay,” she says flatly, making it clear as she can that that’s barely a compliment; Nikki, however, smile widely.

“Glowing review, I’ll add it to our poster,” he smirks, before he finally looks her over, gaze zeroing in on the flyers in her hands, “speaking of -” and he snatches one, not that she’s protesting, that’s another one she doesn’t have to get rid of. Nikki’s reading the flyer and frowning, while Lola lets her attention wander to the various keyboards they have on display.

“Where’s this?” Nikki pipes up, sounding genuinely interested, while Lola’s idly playing scales with one hand on the closest, off keyboard.

“A few blocks away,” Lola still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the town’s geography, “across the road from The Kings Hotel, where I saw you play -”

“The old MacCready place?”

“It’s Leo’s now,” Lola says, arms crossed, sitting low in her hips as she regards Nikki, and the way he’s going over every little detail of the poster, “Charlotte says you’re a tool.”

“Charlotte just hates that she likes me so much,” Nikki doesn’t even miss a beat before answering, and when he looks up to catch Lola’s reaction, his grin is all teeth. Lola can’t help the slight smile she wears as she takes in his response.

“I can see why,” Lola’s not quite sure what she’s going for with her own response, but it comes out more teasing than cutting, and there’s something in Nikki’s eye, or in his smile, or maybe it’s in his easy laughter, that has her heart beating weird in her chest.

A moment passes between them, a shift in the tone, the energy of the interaction as Lola drops her immediate hostility; she’s been doing that a lot lately, but she tries not to dwell on it. It’s now she gets a proper look at him, at his ripped jeans and all black, leather jacket, hair sprayed to high heavens like he’s about to join Poison; he looks unkempt and mean, and Lola’s kind of really into it.

They’re checking each other out, sizing each other up, and they both seem to find something in the other they like, because Nikki’s grinning at Lola when gaze meets hers again, and she’s smirking right back.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she tells him, hip cocked for a moment before she saunters past him, knocking into him with her shoulder purposefully. When Nikki stumbles back, he huffs a laugh, and Lola calls over her shoulder, “Leo’s is hiring by the way, Leo himself would probably love a fucker like you.”

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #the dirt #motley crue #motley crue imagine #nikki sixx imagine #tommy lee imagine #tommy lee & oc #the pack #lola&charlotte #charlotte & lola

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thecluelessredhead · 4 years

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Sunset Curve: A Hollywood Legacy

Word Count: 2050

Chapter 2 of ??

Additional notes at the bottom.

Chapter Two

Bobby was sprawling in his dressing room, his guitar on his chest, playing with the strings gently. Occasionally, he would stretch out a slender arm and pick up a peanut. He wouldn’t eat it immediately, but hold it up to the light and look at it, as if that specific peanut would tell him the secrets of the universe. He asked once. The peanut didn’t answer.

Luke came flying into the room while he was performing this ritual. He was grumbling and speaking incoherently, but when he saw Bobby, on his back studying a nut, he stopped, and shut the door slowly.

“Hey, buddy,” he said slowly, like he was talking to a horse that might rear its head at any moment. “You okay?” Bobby nodded, tossing the peanut through the air and catching it in his mouth. “Strike out with Rose?” Luke approached on his toes, still seemingly afraid of Bobby. Again, Bobby just nodded. “She got a boyfriend?” Luke sat down on the edge of the couch Bobby was on.

Nod.

“His name’s Ray,” Bobby said, his husky voice seeming even deeper through his peanut.

“Bummer,” Luke sympathized, clapping Bobby on the knee. “But hey! No time to be sad! We go on at the Orpheum in an hour!”

“Yeah!” Bobby sat up, looking suddenly energized. Then, he registered Luke for the first time, who was dripping wet. “What happened to you?”

“It’s pouring outside,” Luke answered.

“Good or bad?” Bobby asked, all business.

Luke grabbed a handful of peanuts. “Could go either way,” he gargled through a mouthful. Bobby grunted his agreement. “Hey, where are Alex and Reggie?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t Alex say he’s just going to get some air?” Bobby asked. Luke shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about Alex.

“Reggie should be here by now, too,” Luke said, anxiously.

“They’re gonna make it,” Bobby assured him. Luke took a deep breath, trying to center himself. “Is that all?”

“Huh?” Luke looked at Bobby. He knew what Bobby was asking.

“Is that all you’re upset about?”

Luke stood up, and walked away, facing a small table of trinkets, picking each of them up individually, and examining them closely. “It’s just…” He heaved a sigh, and turned his head, to get a look of Bobby in his peripheral vision. Bobby was watching him closely, but not scrutinizing. Just watching in a way that was careful and kind. “Whenever I imagined this night, my parents were in the front row.”

Bobby didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t know how long it would take him to come up with the right words. Perhaps he would never get there. So, all he could blurt out was, “Maybe they’ll show up. There’s still time!”

“Yeah, thanks,” Luke replied, still playing with the chachkies and sounding very insincere. “I don’t need them.” He turned to face Bobby, his jaw hardening. “I’ve made it this far.” He crossed to the window and threw it open, looking into the rainy world beyond. Bobby turned to follow his movements with a face of patience being lost. Luke pressed his hands against the lower sill and scanned the streets below for Alex or Reggie.

“You miss them.” It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t need them,” Luke repeated.

“You said that already.” Luke turned his head slightly so that Bobby could see his jaw tightening.

“Well, what do you suggest that I do?” he asked rhetorically, turning back to the window and hunching his back slightly. On the streets, there was already a snaking line waiting to get inside. No one seemed to care about the rain, which lifted Luke’s spirits. All of these people were here to see Sunset Curve. They weren’t just some opening act anymore. People cared. Wanted to see them.

“Play the song,” Bobby said, and for a moment Luke had forgotten he was there. He froze, and turned slowly, keeping his hands on the window, and leaning so far from Bobby, he could feel the rain on his forehead.

“The song?” Luke prompted, although he knew what Bobby was trying to say.

Bobby heaved an enormous sigh, and flopped back onto the couch. What a pair of dramatics they were. “You know.” Bobby stood up and raised his eyebrows pointedly. He walked forward so that he and Luke were nose to nose and Luke could lean no further out of the window. “Unsaid Emily?”

“No!” Luke stood up straight, throwing Bobby away from him. “I wrote that song ages ago!”

“Like a week ago?”

“No!” Luke snapped again, already reaching for the doorknob to leave the room, not even knowing where he intended to go.

“Look, what do you have to lose?” Bobby spit the question out at his friend, who stopped, his hand on the doorknob, his head turned slightly to the left, his jaw clenched. “Pride?” Coming out of Bobby’s mouth, the word sounded derogatory and pathetic, but he was right. That’s exactly what Luke had to lose. He flung the door open and stormed away from Bobby, leaving the door, and the conversation wide open. But Bobby had his answer.

Chatter rang through the hall. It bounced off the hallowed walls and reverberated through every room of the theatre, amplified by excitement. The band stood backstage, nerves running high, but not in the same way that they had been before. Now, they felt the kind of nervousness that only came from the moments before seeing your dreams realized. The jabbering hit their ears but stopped there, their brains were too fried with both joy and terror.

The time had come, and none of the four could believe it. Alex had believed that some horrible fate would befall them before the night would arrive. But, the PA system crackled, and a man with a voice clearly intended for radio said, “Live at the Orpheum. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage Sunset Curve!” The lights went down, and the place fell silent.

As soon as they were on stage, all fear and anxiety melted. They could hardly see the audience through the bright spotlights and their own blinding jubilation. What they didn’t see was the handsome young man who slipped in while the bouncers weren’t paying attention. Willie. He crept over to a table and dropped down next to a very confused girl, without taking his eyes off the drummer.

The entire show was one big blur, much like a wedding day. Luke Patterson, married to his work. Before long, all four boys were bouncing energetically up and down and drenched in sweat, playing their greatest personal hits, heard by only their most devoted fans. The show went on late into the night, but no one cared about the time, for they were too engrossed.

When it at last ended and everyone cleared out, no one noticed the teary eyed couple, leaving reluctantly. The woman was short with brown hair that looked constantly frizzy. The man dwarfed his wife, but in a way that made them only look more compatible. They took one last longing look at the band before being forced from the building by the throng. Only two guests chose to stay behind. Willie, despite the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place, and a tall powerful looking woman, who approached the band as they whooped and hollered, living in the high of what they had just achieved.

Silence fell over the four as she drew near, and they all turned, falling into their classic positions as a part of the group. Luke stepped forward, preparing to represent the band. Alex stood close behind him, almost protectively, as if afraid that the woman would attack. Reggie and Bobby stood behind Luke and to his right, like an anxious audience of the whole thing. Luke looked back at his band mates one last time before turning to face the woman and sticking out his hand.

She took it and shook it. “Gentlemen. I’m Olivia Garcia.” The four introduced themselves in a similar order that they had to Rose. “Let me get right to the point. I’m an executive for Pacific Records. What I saw tonight was very impressive. I spoke to my colleagues, and we would be happy to represent Sunset Curve.” She passed an awestruck Luke a thin card. “Give us a call.” She gave the frozen boys a small smile, and left the place, brushing past Willie who had an impressed look, gently coloring his face as he looked at Alex and his bandmates. He approached the boys tentatively, who had turned to face each other. High fives were passed and shared eagerly while all the boys whooped with joy and spoke indistinctly over each other.

Alex caught sight of Willie and slipped away from his ecstatic bandmates unnoticed, who were now jumping in childish circles chanting, ‘we played the Orpheum!’.

“You came,” Alex said, unsure what he meant by that statement. Clearly, Willie had come. Was Alex implying that he was surprised? Was it merely a statement of joy? Was Willie overthinking the whole thing as much as he was?

“Told you I’d find a way.” He grinned.

“A legal way?” Alex teased. Willie blushed and shrugged, rolling his head toward the ground. It had now become apparent to the other three band members that their drummer was no longer an active part of their celebrations. They turned and registered Willie, every possible scenario of who the boy could possibly be running through their heads as they studied his face, particularly the way he looked at Alex, and vice versa. Bobby, who seemed most determined in respecting Alex’s privacy, nudged Reggie, who took Luke by the arm and steered him in the other direction. They then pretended like they weren’t listening as intently as they were, staring at the ceiling and the floor and the stage.

Willie dropped his joking act to make serious eye contact with Alex, a truly terrifying concept. “You guys were really good.”

“Oh, thanks,” Alex said, sticking his elbows out and turning his head shyly.

“So, that woman was someone important, huh?” Willie continued.

“Yeah, she said she wants to represent us!” He beamed, glee lighting up his face in an instant. “It’s totally insane, and completely terrifying and I’m so excited!” He went on rambling, and Willie watched, smiling, as Rose approached the other three onlookers.

“Even better than your soundcheck,” she said, giving them an excuse to focus on something other than Alex. Reggie tilted his head and smirked, Luke grinned and thanked her. Bobby did nothing. “Listen, I’m having a party later tonight. Like, now, actually. It’d be great if you guys would come. Beer, fans. Great music, of course.” She waited patiently for their response, and though they dragged it out, her spiel was pretty hard to ignore. “You can even ring you friend.” Rose jerked her thumb back to Alex and Willie, still talking happily.

“Alright, I guess we’ll come,” Luke agreed, looking at his bandmates with a crooked grin.

“Great!” Rose gave Bobby the address, and bid them a safe walk.

Luke stepped tentatively toward Alex and Willie, peeking over Alex’s shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Alex, we’re headed out. Rose is throwing a party. Your, uh-” Luke searched for the proper word hesitating slightly over the word friend. “-buddy is welcome as well.” He inwardly pinched himself at the foolish choice of words.

Alex turned to Willie, the question in his eyes.

“No, I couldn’t,” he admitted apologetically. “My folks will be wondering where I am. I catch you later, though?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alex agreed. Willie shot him one last sideways smile, and rushed from the theater.

“Who was that?” Luke asked as soon as he was gone, and Bobby and Reggie hurriedly stepped forward to hear about the mystery man.

“A guy I ran into,” Alex answered, grinning to himself at his own little pun. “Willie.” He grinned at the way the name felt on his lips. The boys nodded assent.

“Shall we?” Reggie asked, making a large gesture with his arms in the general direction of nowhere.

“Won’t Carla miss you?” Bobby wondered.

Reggie shook his head.”She’ll understand.”

“Then, let’s go boys.” And Luke led the way to the party.

Notes: If you’re with me thanks again! Chapter three will be back hopefully sooner rather than later. If anyone is interested, I can make a tag list, so just let me know.

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celtics534 · 4 years

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Whatever it Takes

Covert Love Chapter 21

It’s finally over 😥! The final chapter of Covert Love is upon us. Y’all have been amazing with your love for this story and it makes me so happy! Thank you for all the encouragement and love 😁. I need to credit the amazing @thedistantdusk for all her help with this story! Literally the best person ever!!

This chapter title is based on Whatever it Takes by Imagine Dragons.

Read on: FF.net or AO3

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“ Hey, Prue. Long time no see .”

Harry’s entire body turned to ice at those words, at that voice. He’d know that voice anywhere. It was in all his dreams of the future, in every daydream his mind concocted, and it was the voice that made him feel safe with every word spoken. Except for those six words. Except for in this moment where he was tied up by a lunatic who had a crazy obsession with the love of his life (who happened to be the owner of the voice).

He tried to turn, to look at her, but the rope Prue had tied around him stopped him from turning more than ninety degrees. But even with that limited angle, Harry was able to see Ginny standing in the kitchen doorway, her palms out.

Prue’s shoulders tensed at the familiar voice. She spun around slowly, her eyes sharp as steel as she stared at the person. “ Well , I didn’t expect to see you here , my dear.”

Ginny’s laugh was humorless. “I could say the same for you, Prue.” She moved forward slowly, her gaze locked on Prue. “How about we catch up. I think we have a few things to talk about.”

The laughter that came out of Prue was manic, raising the hairs on his arm. “What is there to talk about, Ginevra? You were supposed to stay at my house. Actually.” Prue’s brow knit together. “How did you get here? France isn’t a short trip.”

France ! Harry’s mind faltered at the word. Prue had taken Ginny all the way to France! They hadn’t even spread their search past the United Kingdom. At the rate they had been going… Nope ! Harry needed to focus on what was going on right in front of him, not some what-if situation.

He took a deep breath, which wasn’t an easy task due to the gag shoved in his mouth. Ginny had moved to stand only a few meters away from him. She was so close he could almost touch her (if it weren’t for the rope pinning his arms to the back of the chair). Every part of him ached to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her. Of course, all the relief he felt at seeing her was numbed by the situation they were in. Yet all his body craved was a chance to hold her in his arms.

“So, care to tell me why you’re here in my brother’s house?” Ginny asked as if she were merely discussing the most recent rainfall. “I assume you have a reason for showing up uninvited to their lovely home.”

“Well, I had to meet this adorable niece you keep raving about!” Prue lofted Victoire a little higher in her arms, making the little girl whimper. “And of course I thought, why not having a cup of tea with the family while I was at it, but for some reason the moment I showed up everyone got rather tense. Including your little boy toy over there.” She jerked her chin at Harry.

“I can’t imagine why.” Ginny’s tone oozed sarcasm. “People tend to respond poorly to surprise visitors, Prue.”

Prue stared at Ginny for a few seconds before her lips curled into a condescending smile. “You may be right there, my friend. Next time I’ll have to remember to send an owl. But until then…” Prue twisted the blade in her hand ever so slightly, making it dig into Victoire’s skin a little more. “How about we all settle down for a lovely chat.”

“Should I go make that tea?” Ginny asked, her tone still level as if they were talking about morning broom traffic over Dublin. If Harry didn’t know Ginny as well as he did, he might have been fooled by her aloof attitude. But if there was one thing in this world Harry was proud to understand was Ginny Weasley. The way her fingers twitched every few seconds, the stiff way she stood, and the tension in her jaw… Ginny was nowhere near relaxed.

Ginny had told him stories about her tremendous acting skills. As a child, she’d used it to get an extra biscuit or get one of her brothers in trouble instead of herself, but Harry hadn’t yet been graced with a presentation of her skills. But as he watched her go toe to toe with Prue he decided she was as good as she’d claimed, maybe even better.

Prue’s head tilted to the side, as if considering Ginny’s offer. After a few moments, Prue shook her head. “Why don’t you take a seat beside your brother?” She jerked her chin to Bill. “Best seat in the house. You’ll be able to see everyone and everything .”

Again, if Harry wasn’t adept in watching Ginny he would have missed the way her neck tensed as she swallowed hard. “Oh? And what will I be privy to seeing?”

The wicked smile that turned Prue's lips made Harry's heart pound against his ribs. Her eyes fell onto him. "Something that should have happened a long time ago."

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Harry bit his tongue as the steel blade ripped into his leg. He refused to give her the satisfaction of showing how much pain he was in. Prue's cuts were precise and deep. Every swipe of her knife sent fire shooting through his body.

The first few cuts hadn’t been so bad, but after Prue’s twentieth slice Harry had given up keeping count. He’d closed his eyes after the tenth slash. At first he'd kept his gaze locked with Ginny, who was straight across from him, her arms and legs bound, but after the tears started falling silently down her cheeks Harry couldn’t look any more. She had tried to stay strong for him, but he saw her wince at every mark Prue made.

“You know,” Prue’s voice was higher than normal as she spoke somewhere to his left. The amusement was too clear in her tone. “This could all stop if you acknowledge your true calling, Ginny.”

Harry slowly opened his eyes to see Ginny’s pinched face, clearly trying to hold back any more tears. When she spoke, the tremble in her voice made Harry’s gut clench. “I don’t know what you mean, Prue. I’ve never known what you meant by that!”

Prue made a tisking noise with her tongue as she tapped the blade of the knife against the side of Harry’s chair. “I was afraid you’d say that.” Harry didn’t even see her hand move but rather felt the sting of the blade as the wound opened on his bicep. Prue let out a high pitched laugh that made every hair on Harry’s body stand on end. “ Whoops .”

Harry forced himself to breathe through the pain. He looked over at Ginny who looked ready to crawl her way to Prue to kill the woman. The way Ginny’s eyes burned with rage… Harry had never seen her emit such anger. He’d seen her angry a time or two, but this… this was a level of intensity that would make Harry cower if the look was direct at him.

“Prue.” Ginny’s voice had lost all its false serenity. Now her fury washed off her like tidal waves. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! So why don’t you stop this insanity!”

Prue just shook her head as she circled around Harry, like a bloodthirsty shark. She let the knife tip graze over Harry’s body as she went around. His shoulder, bicep, arm, thigh. An uncontrollable shiver ran down Harry’s spine every time the blade touched bare skin.

“I’m disappointed to hear you say that.” Prue stopped so she stood directly behind him. Harry watched the knife skim over his arm to hover over his neck. “And I’m sure boy wonder here is feeling… discouraged by your inability to grasp your true self.”

Harry stared at Ginny, willing her to look at him. There were so many things he needed to tell her. How this wasn’t her fault, how much he needed her to stay safe, how much he loved her… He prayed that she could understand all that just by looking him in the eye. But she didn’t take her gaze off Prue.

“I swear if you kill him -'' Ginny's jaw clenched as she pursed her lips so tightly together that the skin around them became impossibly white. Her chest was heaving as she struggled against her bounds. “Just take me instead. Forget about them… about him.”

He could feel Prue’s body as she stood stiffly behind him. Harry could imagine her staring at Ginny with that cold, calculating look. When she spoke her tone was that of a soothing parent, yet her words sent another round of shivers down Harry’s spine. “No, sweetie , you need to be taught a lesson and I think this is the only way.”

The tip of the blade dug into Harry’s skin. He sucked in a deep breath. Harry wasn’t afraid to die. No, in his line of work he’d accepted his death might come at a young age. But to die knowing Ginny would still be in danger… it made a claw seize his heart in a tight hold.

He could feel Prue’s fingers at the side of his neck as she started to let the blade slide along his skin millimeter by millimeter. Harry closed his eyes, wishing he’d been given more time. Time to fulfill his dreams with Ginny. The dreams of getting married, having children, growing old together and getting to watch their grandkids play as they sat on their back porch.

Then suddenly the pain lessened to nearly nothing. Harry briefly wondered if she’d somehow killed him instantly. But the logical part of him knew that was nearly impossible with a neck slash. Then the noise of a scuffle reached his ears. He opened his eyes to see the bloody knife laying on his lap while Ginny and Fleur wrestled with Prue.

He had no idea how the two women had escaped their binds but apparently while Prue had been busy with him, they’d been doing their own work. Ginny’s fist connected with Prue’s cheek bone, making the woman cry out in pain. Fleur had focused on Prue’s feet, knocking her to the ground.

Ginny followed Prue to the ground. Straddling her waist while her knuckles slammed into Prue’s nose, making blood gush instantly. Prue howled in rage and pain, however she didn’t give up easily. She kicked out, knocking Fleur away from the tussle.

Harry struggled against his binds. He needed to help Ginny. Fleur rushed over to him, grabbing the knife from his lap. “ Une seconde, chérie ,” she said before hurrying off to free Bill’s ties.

Normally, Harry would have been offended at Fleur’s choice to free Bill first. But he had to figure his appearance didn’t inspire confidence in being ready for a fight. Hell, without the adrenaline coursing through his system, Harry was almost certain he would have blacked out. He did a quick visual inspection of himself. His once-white shirt was now a dark red and his blue jeans now had darker stains tinting numerous spots. Yeah, he didn’t exude ready for combat .

Harry’s focus was divided between the two groups. To his left Fleur, sliced every braid on the binds that held Bill. To his right, Ginny had Prue pinned to the ground, both women fighting with a fury rarely seen even on a battlefield. For every punch Ginny landed, Prue claws marked Ginny’s skin.

Everything was moving so quickly that Harry’s mind could hardly keep up. One second, there were three strands of rope binding Bill, then there was nothing. At the same time, Prue’s right hook connected perfectly with Ginny’s temple, making the red head fall backwards. Ginny’s loss of balance was all Prue needed. She pushed Ginny off her, springing to her feet faster than Harry expected.

He could see the short lived debate in Prue’s eyes, to run or to fight. It wasn’t more than a second before her flight instincts took control. She bolted towards the kitchen, but Bill was hot on her heels. With a tackle that would have made a rugby player proud, Bill took Prue down to the hardwood floor.

That was when he noticed Fleur had begun to cut his ropes. She was already to the last knot before he’d noticed. Then he was free and on his feet. He reached into his back pocket where he kept a pair of muggle zip ties that he crafted into handcuffs. Bill had Prue face down into the floor, giving him easy access to her wrists.

Prue was screaming unintelligibly into the floor, her body wiggling under Bill, but he outweighed her by nearly five stone, making her struggle for escape practically pointless.

After Harry pulled the ties tight, he rose to his feet, Bill locked eyes with him. “I’ve got her.” his voice was like sandpaper, but his eyes were steady. “Go check on everyone.”

It took Harry a moment to think past the fact they’d caught Prue to remember that there were others in the room. He turned around to see if Ginny was still on the floor where Prue had knocked her, but she’d risen to stand beside Fleur. The two women were trying to comfort a crying Victoire, who had been tied next to her daddy when Prue had turned her focus onto Harry. Fleur pulled the little girl into her arms and held Vic to her chest. Harry could see Fleur trembling as she held her daughter close.

Ginny turned around and their eyes locked. Harry’s mind was completely empty, except of her. Of Ginny, who was the most incredible woman he’d ever met. His legs moved with no hesitation. He needed to get to her, to touch her. Within five long strides he was holding her face in his hands.

Her face had numerous cuts, darkened bruises, and a lip that was rapidly swelling, but she’d never looked more beautiful to Harry. “Are you okay?” His voice was just as rough as Bill’s, but at the moment he couldn’t care less about his scratchy throat. All that mattered was what he held in his hands.

Ginny smiled at him, that smile she saved only for him. “Never better.” She rose to her toes to lightly kiss him. For such a chaste peck, it said so much to Harry. In the two seconds their lips touched, Harry’s heart expanded two sizes with the love he felt for this woman. He leaned his forehead to hers as she said, “I don’t know if you know this, but punching someone is very therapeutic.”

It took a second for his tired mind to register her words, but once they had, Harry started laughing. Ginny joined him, her smile wide as she laughed too. To an outsider they might have looked insane, but Harry couldn’t care less. He was alright, Ginny was alright, and past that nothing else mattered. He kissed her again, letting his lips linger this time speaking against her smile. “I love you.”

Ginny ran a hand up the side of his neck before cupping his jaw. “Right back at you, darling. I think we need to take a little holiday. Have a chance to relax. Somewhere warm and where I can have my way with you whenever I want.”

Harry’s breath hitched as he nodded. “Oh that can definitely be arranged.” He kissed her one final time. “But first, we’ve got to introduce our friend over there to her new cell in Azkaban.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“So Prue was convicted of all accounts,” Jamieson greeted as he plopped a manila folder on Harry’s desk. “Five accounts of kidnapping including a minor, multiple accounts of torture, and of course the stalking.”

Harry picked up the file and quickly flicked it open to see Prue glaring at the camera, her scowl becoming more prominent with each second. Her nostrils flared as she stared down the photographer. “That was fast. A trial and conviction in three weeks. Did Tonks discover anything else that could be added to Prue’s sentence?”

After Prue’s final attempt at freeing Ginny, Tonks and her partner, Emmeline Vance, had dug into Prue’s background and financials. Harry hadn’t been allowed to help due to his removal from the case, and his forced medical leave. He’d been commanded to take three weeks’ leave, which for once hadn’t bothered him because Ginny had also been given time off from the Bats.

They had taken their medical leave to heart, deciding a trip away was the perfect remedy to heal their emotional wounds (because the St Mungo’s healers had easily healed their physical trauma). The Spanish coast they’d found had been secluded and ideal for them. They’d swum with dolphins, eaten a plethora of bananas grown right outside their casa’s window, and spent every night in bed together.

But none of that had been his favorite moment of their holiday. There had been one night that outshone the rest. Every time he thought about that evening a goofy grin split his face. The sunset on his back, Ginny’s hand in his, the waves creating the perfect melody as they crashed against the sand… the best moment of his life had been the instant Ginny has said —

“Potter?” Jamieson slapped his arm, bringing Harry out of his daydream.

“Hm? Oh sorry!” He cleared his throat. “What were you saying?”

Jamieson snorted. “Clearly you had a good medical leave based on that cat-ate-the-canary grin.” Harry could feel his cheeks heat as his boss continued. “Tonks was able to find Prue had offshore accounts. Apparently, before coming to Ireland she’d had a rather lucrative muggle business, which we discovered to have been committing tax fraud before she’d performed an insurance fraud that allowed her accounts to reach a level to somewhere in the high millions.”

Harry had not seen that coming. “Seriously?”

“Yup.” Jamison popped the last letter. “The muggle police had been on her trail until she’d confounded them and disappeared to Ireland.”

“Okay so that’s where she gained her wealth, but what caused her to become obsessed with Ginny?”

“Ah.” Jamieson let the word out on a sigh, propping his hip on the side of Harry’s desk. “It turns out Canon had grown up in an abusive household. Her father was Tom Riddle.”

The name was familiar to Harry, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Remind me of who that is.”

“He was one of France’s most notorious killers. He ran one of Paris’ largest drug cartels. In his twenty-five year reign, he made over five hundred thousand in profit. But during that time he impregnated a young prostitute by the name of Estelle Canon. Based on the intel we’ve gathered through journals found at the homestead where Prue brought Ginny, Riddle sold Prue’s mother to a rival gang for access to their land. Riddle was trying to expand his empire out of Paris. But once Prue’s mother was gone, there was no one there to protect Prue from Riddle’s... more sinister behaviors and desires. ”

Harry’s gut clenched because he had a good idea of what Jamieson meant by desires , and even though he hated Prue, no one deserved to be abused like that. He let out a deep breath. “Okay, so she had a really bad childhood. But that doesn’t explain her fascination with Ginny.”

“Prue’s mother used to read her children’s books where a goddess was stuck on Earth. The goddess was said to be stuck in a human form until she discovered decency among humans. Prue somehow connected Ginny with the goddess in the tale.”

“Okay, I can get that on a crazy level, but why Ginny? Have we tried to get her to explain why she thought Ginny was this goddess?” Harry asked.

Jamieson snorted. “Of course! Vance has been to Azkaban everyday, but Prue refuses to speak. Anything we learn is going to be through her journals, which I’m surprised she even had. We’re planning on taking them to Ms Granger when she has some time.”

Harry nodded, he was no psychologist, so trying to understand why Prue kept a diary was a mystery to him, but maybe Granger could figure things out. “Well, I’m just glad it’s over.”

“You and me both, Potter. “Jamieson clapped a hand to his back. “You did good, minus the whole falling in love with your ward thing.”

Harry looked up into his boss’ amused eyes. “Sir, with all due respect, I’m pretty sure when you knew when assigning me the case that it’s nearly impossible not to fall in love with Ginny Weasley.”

Jamieson let out a bark of a laugh. “I’d never tell her, but that girl had me wrapped around her finger the first time Bill introduced us.”

“Oh and how easy it was,” an amused voice came from behind the two aurors, making them jump and turn to look at the woman they’d been talking about. Ginny was beaming at them as she moved closer.

Jamieson rolled his eyes before smiling at Ginny. “What are you doing here, Weasley?”

She pointed at Harry. “We have an appointment with my parents this evening and I refuse to let him claim some work -- thing -- as a distraction.” She met Harry’s eyes. “We’re in this together aren’t we, Potter?”

Harry could feel that goofy smile coming back. “You know I’d follow you anywhere, Love.”

Again, Jamieson rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to watch this. Potter, you’re free to go once you return that report to Tonks.” He pointed to the folder that he’d lefted on Harry’s desk. Then he was gone, moving across the bullpit to his office without so much as a farewell.

Ginny took Jamieson’s vacated spot, leaning slightly on the edge of his desk. “So how was the first day back?”

Harry shuffled the papers back into the folder, before rising from his chair. He stood in front of Ginny, his fingers moving to graze her hips “Not so bad, though… My mind did wander quite a bit.”

“Hmmm.” Ginny stood to her full height, still making her half a head shorter than him. “And what did your rambling thoughts focus on?”

He brought his hand to hers, threading their fingers before pulling their joined palms up to his lips. He kissed each knuckle until he reached her ring finger where two bands rested. The engagement ring they’d recovered from Prue’s house and the silver ring he’d slid there only a week ago. “How much I missed my wife and wished we were still in our little seaside casa where I could drag her off to bed whenever I wanted.”

Ginny pulled their interlocked fingers away from his face so she could replace it with her lips. She smiled against his mouth, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about my handsome husband while going through Kennedy’s drills.”

Harry groaned quietly as she nipped at his bottom lip. “How upset would your parents be if we skived off tonight?”

She laughed, pressing a final peck to his lips before away.“Pretty angry, seeing as we’re already going over there to tell her we eloped. Best not to test Molly Weasley’s patience by cancelling.”

He sighed. “I know you're right. At least I think our parents will take it better than Sirius. He’s going to throw a fit that he wasn’t there to be my best man.”

“Don’t worry, love.” Ginny brought their joined hands to her lips before using them to pull him towards the exit. “I’ll protect you from our disgruntled parental figures.”

“I’ll be holding you to that, Ginny Potter.”

She sighed happily. “I love it when you call me that.”

“ Do you.” Harry stopped their movement to pull her into a small alcove near the muggle exit of the auror offices. He pressed her back so she leaned against the wall. “I’ll make sure to say it more often,” he said, leaning in to put his lips right next to her ear. “Mrs Potter.”

Ginny's hand came to knot in his already messy hair, drawing his lip away from her ear before kissing him. “At — this — rate — we’ll never — make — it.” Ginny said each word in between kissing him.

Harry was about to say he didn’t mind one bit, but Ginny cut his words off with a heated kiss that made his mind go blank. Right as he started to debate if he could get away with setting some privacy charms around their little niche, Ginny pulled away. Her hand slid back into his, their matching rings clinking happily together. She winked. “Remember that for later tonight.”

Then she pulled him out of their hideaway and towards the street where they could apparate back to their flat. Harry smiled as they stepped out into the rare Irish sunshine. He couldn’t believe how much his life had changed all because of a covert mission. All because he’d fallen in love with Ginny Weasley.

#hinny #hinny fic #Harry Potter #Harry and Ginny #harry potter fanfiction #harry X ginny #harry potter fan fiction #Covert Love Chapter 21 #Covert Love Final Chapter

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cottage-babe · 4 years

Text

Burning Scars part X

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whoops i missed two weeks of updating, sorry, concussion stuff :) im all good now tho so more! updating!

I changed the original story up a bit :)

Summary: Y/n, a werewolf from a hidden village, comes across Zuko and Iroh after being exiled. How has fate intertwined the wolf into the avatar’s destiny?

___

Zuko’s been acting a little... weird lately.

Well, let’s clarify something; Zuko always acts weird. But ever since the trio went into work that day, the boy had been on edge.

Y/n was standing at the tea station, just leaning against the wall and spacing out. Iroh was beside her, humming a small tune as he prepared the next batch of tea. Then, the boy quickly walked up to them in panic.

“Guys, we have a problem.” He said as he set the teacups he was holding onto the table. “One of the customers is on to us. Don't look now but there is a girl over there at the corner table.”

Y/n snapped out of her daydream and looked over to the person Zuko was talking about. It was a pretty girl; she had long dark hair pulled into two braids and a sappy smile on her face. Instantly Y/n knew that she wasn’t suspicious of anything.

“Didn’t I say don’t look?!” Zuko whispered and dragged both of his companions arms to turn away.

A laugh almost escaped Y/n’s mouth as she shared a look with Iroh. “You know Zuko, I think you’re right, I’ve seen her here a lot.”

The clueless teen nodded his head and furrowed his brows.

“Seems to me she has quite a little crush on you.” Iroh laughed and went back to whatever it was that he was doing.

Zuko let out a ‘what?’ and Y/n sighed in response. She had to keep reminding herself that she and the other boy were nothing remotely close to romantic. If anything was learned from last night, they were just friends; family, at most. And she was okay with that, honestly. She had so many issues with him that it probably wouldn’t even work out. But still, she couldn’t deny the fact the Zuko might’ve been the topic of her daydream just moments ago.

Y/n resumed her position of leaning on the wall. She watched as the ‘mysterious’ girl walked up to the counter and began to talk to Zuko flirtatiously. The girl introduced herself as Jin and payed for her drink.

“Thank you and ... well, I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime?” Jin asked with a hopeful gaze.

Zuko paused in bewilderment and it almost made the poor girl regret her request. Y/n wasn’t going to butt in, she really wasn’t, but soon she decided that it was for the best. Maybe if she helped him get in a relationship, it would help her get over her slight (once again, very very slight) feelings over him.

“He’d love to.” Y/n responded for Zuko.

The boy looked around his shoulder and sent the wolf a questioning glare, but she just sent him a smile and turned to help Iroh make some tea.

My job here is done.

Jin and Zuko talked a bit more and ended with her saying that she’d meet with him at sundown. That meant that for the rest of the day Zuko chatted nervously with Y/n and Iroh, giving off mixed feelings between ‘I don’t want to go’ and ‘should I dress nice?’. Y/n let Iroh do all the talking, she wasn’t too much of an expert in that area.

When she was in her pack, Y/n wasn’t exactly popular among the boys. They mainly drifted her to strong, beautiful sister and the girl wasn’t bothered by it too much. She had a few crushes here and there, but that was about it. Nothing was ever acted on.

So hearing that this was Zuko’s first date relieved her to an extent; at least she wasn’t the only one who’d gone this long without being in a relationship. But there was the other part that nagged her a bit, the fact that Zuko was having his first date; with a stranger none the less.

Quit all this feeling stuff, it’s getting annoying.

Y/n may or may not have been giving Zuko a form of silent treatment for the day. If he ever asked her anything, she answered, but other than that, she never intimated any conversation. There wasn't any particular reason (lies), but it certainly didn't go unnoticed by her roommate.

"Hey, uhh.. if you don't think that I should go, I won't." Zuko said randomly on their break.

Y/n's eyes furrowed in confusion. "I literally answered her for you, Lee. If anyone is being hesitant, it should be you."

"So," he began. "Your not bothered? At all?"

There was this weird look in the boy's eyes, something of... Hope?

That's weird.

"Listen, if you need advise or something, Iroh will probably be your best bet." The werewolf laughed awkwardly.

He just sighed and went back to work.

When closing time was coming and there were hardly any customers left, Zuko and Iroh went to the backroom to prepare. Y/n didn’t really pay attention to what they were doing; she just assumed that they were cleaning up any dirty bits he picked up or making him smell better.

That was why when Zuko walked out into the dining room with his hair slicked back ridiculously, Y/n couldn't hold back the snort that escaped her. Why would Iroh do this to him? Some revenge she didn’t know about or something?

Zuko glared at her and she just masked up her laughter as a cough. “You look great!” She even put a thumbs up to try an convince him of her lie. He just rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly opening the door of the restaurant. By that time, the few remaining people had filtered out and it was just the three of them.

When the view of Jin came, even Y/n couldn’t hold back her gasp.

The young girl was really quite beautiful. Her braid was fixed and she had a youthful enthusiasm to her features. It was a beautiful contrast to the adult life that Y/n and Zuko were thrown into.

Jin’s eyes widened at the boys new look and laughed, saying something clever to him. Zuko just shut the door so his two roommates wouldn’t listen in on their conversation.

“He’s growing up so fast,” Iroh jokingly sniffled and wiped a fake tear.

Y/n laughed and nodded her head. I hope he’s nice to her.

The werewolf turned and returned to the backroom so she could put her apron away. She assumed that Iroh was following, so she didn’t bother waiting.

“So,” She began, “what should we do tonight?” Y/n began to wave her arms around dramatically. “Get some food? Watch a play?”

She was really looking forward to tonight. Now they didn’t have Zuko here constantly breathing down their necks (”We don’t have enough money for that!!” “Why buy that when you can buy this!” it got a little redundant at times).

Iroh slid his apron off and chuckled. “Oh no no... I’m far too old to have fun at night.”

Y/n deflated. To be fair, the sun hadn’t fully set yet. “I mean... I guess we could read at home?”

He shook his head once more and turned toward the werewolf. “Just go have fun, meet new people. Don’t let someone like me slow you down!”

She pouted. Why does he think that time spent with him is wasted? She has plenty of fun hanging out with the sweet uncle! Y/n looked at his happy, aged face and observed his truthfulness. She knows that he just wants her to have fun, but still...

“Just go, Y/n, and I’ll see you back home tonight.” Iroh smiled.

Y/n sighed, looking at Iroh one last time, before turning around and heading out the same door that Jin and Zuko left through. When the brisk air hit her, it felt different somehow. Maybe because this was her first time being out alone. She means this quite lightly, of course, but something about it still irked her.

The sun was sorta bright out, but not much.

It had set halfway, so the small beams were jutting out the tops of the building and the sky was painted the scene of fire. Oh, her and her love for sunsets.

Y/n decided to pick a direction and walk. Honestly, in this part of the city, there weren’t many sights to see; everything interesting rested in the higher Rings since they could afford it.

After a few minutes, the girl saw a stand selling sweets. She patted her pockets and brought out her tips from work. It wasn’t much, but definitely enough for the night.

She paid for some iced treats; Popsicles of some kind. She wasn’t entirely sure which flavor to pick, so she went with her childish side and decided to buy two that she was interested in.

As she continued her trip, Y/n stopped at a few places to watch things. Since night was approaching, shows were starting on random parts of the streets. People performed odd talents for money and it excited the girl; maybe she should do something like them, it seems fun.

At some point, Y/n ended up at the entrance of a zoo.

She was almost finished with the first ice cream in her grasp when she decided to enter the park. It seemed deserted and there was only one person at the front desk.

“Umm, excuse me? Are you open?” Y/n asked since the worker was almost half asleep.

The man jumped awake and looked around, startled. Then, his eyes landed on the girl’s curious figure. “Yes. Is it just you? Where’s your friends?”

Y/n pouted in response. “It’s just me, how much is it?”

She began to ruffle through her pockets, hoping that it was enough to see the animals, but the man waved a hand in the air.

“It’s fine, you can just go ahead. Just don’t feed the animals.” He said while looking suspiciously at the girl’s popsicles.

Y/n nodded her head and smiled in thanks. Then, she went inside.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she wanted to be here; it would be hard for her to see captive animals when she herself was one (well, not caged, but you get the point). Her pack elders had informed her of zoos and used it to scare the kid wolves so they wouldn’t go and try to find humans. Of course, that never worked on Y/n and her siblings. She honestly just thought that it was fake up until this point.

The werewolf walked around to each cell to observe the animals. It almost made her cry; they all just looked so lonely. Y/n couldn’t imagine how trapped they must feel in this small cage; a part of her was happy that she wasn’t in that situation, though.

“They all look so sad.”

Y/n turned around and was met with a young boy, possibly about twelve years old. He was bald with a blue arrow tattooed across his forehead and arms and held a long stick in his hands. The orange of his clothing made him standout against the dreary greys of the zoo.

The girl looked at the animal across from them. It was a Rabaroo, an animal with long ears and bouncy legs. Y/n could hear small chirps coming from the pouch in her front, but she decided not to say anything.

“She’s really hungry too, I can tell.” Y/n said as she walked up closer to the cage.

The poor animal was almost pleading for help. She had a thought that the Rabaroo knew what she was, a predator, but still asked for help. These animals must be really desperate.

The boy joined her. “I wish there was something I could do, but I’m not sure how to help.”

Y/n nodded her head in agreement. When she got this feeling in the past (before they entered Ba Sing Se with their Ostrich-Horses), she found a solution; to just let them go and be free. Now, however, she just felt helpless.

Instead, she just looked at the boy and held out the other ice treat in her hand. “Do you want one? I can’t finish both.”

He got a childish excitement in his eyes and grabbed the treat. Y/n smiled back at him, maybe something good can come from today.

“I’m Aang, I’m looking for my lost Sky Bison.” Aang said as he began licking to Popsicle.

“Y/n,” she introduced herself while thinking, what the Spirits is a Sky Bison? “I'm just wandering the city; thinking."

“Really?” He asked. “What are you thinking about?”

What was she thinking about?

There’s so much that should be on her mind right now; her future, how her family’s doing, how she’s doing, but for some reason the only thing that’s been scattered around her brain recently was Zuko. Something about him just seemed so.. spirits, she couldn’t even find the word for it. But it seemed like she was seeing him differently now.

“Oh, you're still here?"

Y/n and Aang turned to the voice that spoke. It belonged to the man at the front desk, the one that let her in for free.

"Do you know what's wrong with the animals?" Aang asked the owner, ignoring the rude phrase that he said.

"Well, the Dai Li won't give me any money because the kids stopped coming. And the kids won't come because my zoo's nasty and broke." The owner sighed. "I wish I could give all these animals the big, open space that they need."

Y/n frowned. He must have really good intentions, it's just the situation that makes him seem bad.

She met eyes with the younger boy to her side and was surprised to see the... Joy?

"Let's do it!" Aang yelled out, surprising both people beside him. "There's a big open space right outside the walls of the city!"

"But how do we transport them?" Y/n asked.

She was totally on board with the idea, it's just that it seemed a little... Impulsive. But she was talking to a child, though, and they always have such big ideas.

"Oh I'm really good with animals." The boy smiled. "Do you want to help me?"

The werewolf paused, thinking that maybe she shouldn't get involved in this event. But one look at the poor Rabaroo peering up at her with it's wide eyes made her cave in.

"You know... I'm pretty good with animals too."

She was not as good as she thought she was.

Aang and Y/n separated because they needed to find a way to calm the wild animals running loose. The boy (spirits bless him) thought it was a fantastic idea to let all of the animals go at once; from the biggest animals to the smallest rats. It was wild.

And so here the werewolf was, chasing down a pair of Raccoon-Crows. Since the sun had set long ago, there weren’t a lot of people out. Most who enjoyed the liveliness of the night has had their fun and returned to the welcoming embrace of their beds. Oh, if only I stayed home to sleep.

“Get back here!” Y/n yelled as the birds flew off once again.

They seemed to look at her with a mischievous gleam in their eyes; waiting for her to get close before bolting off once again. It was getting very annoying.

She didn’t regret helping the young boy, especially since she might’ve gained a friend out of this. She only regretted not coming up with a better plan; or at least to wait until morning.

“AHHH!” A voice screamed off in the distance.

Y/n groaned and turned toward the yell, knowing that some animal was probably attacking some random citizen. What she didn’t expect though, was to run face first into Zuko and Jin’s date.

Jin had a hog-monkey climbing on her dress and Zuko was in full panic mode. He tried to help her push the animal off, but it seemed to have a steel grip on her. Luckily, they were alone in some fire lit plaza.

Y/n felt really awkward, especially with how private the area was. What would they need privacy for? She quickly pushed that out of her head though and whistled loudly to catch the Monkey’s attention.

The animal and the two teens looked at her in surprise. Y/n took out a treat that the Zoo Keeper had given her and waved it to catch the eyes of the Hog-Monkey. When it loosened it’s grip, she threw it as far as she could away from the group. Luckily, it jumped away in excitement.

“Y/n?!” Zuko exclaimed. Sighing in defeat, the werewolf slowly joined the duo.

Jin was still slightly frightened and was grasped onto the boy’s arm. Y/n pretended not to see it.

“Hey Lee. Fancy seeing you here?” She tried miserably as she scrunched her face up in discomfort. Maybe they’ll be able to cut this conversation short.

“Why aren’t you back home with Uncle?” Zuko said as his eyebrows squished together in anger. “What are you even doing out here?”

“I decided to go out too,” she explained quickly, “but listen, I met this boy and we’r-”

“A boy?!” He seemed to be fuming now. “You can’t just go around talking to random people.”

This made the werewolf (and Jin, but we’re kinda ignoring the sweet girl for a moment) raise her eyebrow in disbelief. He’s really out here, scolding her for making friends when he’s on a date with some girl he’s never met before. Does he ever think before he speaks?

“I-” Y/n paused and took a deep breath to calm herself. “You know what? We’ll talk about this later. I think we’re both busy at the moment.”

Zuko glanced at his date and the werewolf used that distraction as an excuse to leave. She ran off in the direction of the Hog-Monkey, hoping that it hadn’t run too far and purposefully ignored the boy who yelled in protest behind her. Stupid Zuko and his stupid anger issues.

When she got far enough, she slowed to a walk and looked around. The monkey must’ve gotten away because it was nowhere in sight.

“Hog-Monkey.... c’mere monkey, I have treats.” Y/n spoke loudly out into the dark streets of Ba Sing Se.

She hoped that the animal would hear her words and come barreling toward her, but she was only greeted with silence except for the soft footsteps coming from a lady walking down the street. Besides for the lady, the entire street was empty and no other animal was in sight.

That was when she heard it.

A high pitched ringing noise that rattled her bones and made her brain shrink in protest. It was louder than anything she’d ever heard before. It wasn’t the noise that was painful, no no, it was the feeling of being ripped apart that did.

The noise, for some reason, caused the werewolf in Y/n to go absolutely crazy. It was fighting the girl; desperately trying to shift into its natural skin so it could run toward the ringing.

Y/n hunched herself over and groaned out in pain. She looked at her hands and saw it shifting between claws and human hands; she could only imagine what the rest of her body was doing.

“Are you alright, sweetie?”

The transforming-girl looked up to meet the eyes of the lady who was on the street. Her eyes were filled with worry, but slowly changed into something of fear.

Before the werewolf could do something to hurt the kind woman, Y/n bolted down an empty alley. Spirits, what is happening to me?

She leaned against the dirty wall and tried to catch her breath, but her wolf just kept clawing at her, desperately trying to escape. She punched the wall, leaving a fist-sized dent (her mind just brushed it off as her wolf power, but that was weird, right?). Then, while the ringing noise still blasted through her ears, she felt her snout slowly grow out of her face; a growl of effort roaring through the alleyway.

The young girl wanted to cry. Why couldn’t she control herself right now? She was used to the pain of transforming, she had done it all of her life, but she’d never experienced the pain of her two natures battling. It was something entirely different.

The seconds that were passing seemed like hours.

All she could think was, when will the ringing stop?

Soon, she didn’t have the power to hold it back anymore. Her human body was weak and she hated herself for it. She let her werewolf grow into its natural size, towering above her normal height. She felt her clothing rip until it was just strips of fabric on on the floor.

The ringing stopped, but her wild mind remembered where the sound came from and began its run there.

Fortunately (although, its also very unfortunate), her journey was ended when something sharp pierced through the skin on her neck. Her dark eyes jumped around until it landed on the fearful lady from the street shaking beside a group of men.

Y/n felt a sudden drowsiness come over her and her large body fell limp to the floor despite it’s fighting. Just before the unconsciousness came over her, though, the green circle on the men’s chest became prominent in the moonlight.

Then, her world went dark.

Dai Lee >:(

also Aang’s whistle thing >:(

i know that this is a VERY slow burn, but maybe some... couple-y stuff in the next few chapters? we’ll see ;)

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Taglist: @bucky-blogs @hopefuloperaangelnerd @simplyfandomish @oddlypointlessescapes @lozzybowe @woohoney @whalerus @cece-lives-here @bwndito @kiaoizz @lrmilikepie @ohmigooosh

#zuko #zuko x reader #atla #avatar

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rlyc00l · 4 years

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Currently going through BL2 as Zer0. When I go eat or whatever I turn off the TV but I leave the game running for convenience. So yeah, I came back, flipped the TV on, turned to grab the controller, aaand about crapped myself when Zer0 demanded to know if I was on the phone

I meant to respond to this ages ago but got totally distracted and forgot, whoops. Then, yesterday I remembered this ask as I was at OP7 using the enemy swapper mod to turn every enemy in the Dust into Gettle for the purposes of farming a new Lyuuda (I don’t have time to farm the old fashioned way and it’s way more fun because instead of quitting and driving back to the spawn point over and over I’m just fighting like 6 level 89 Gettles at once.) As I go down the list of spiderants, swapping every one of them to Gettle, I hear Zer0 in the other tab make a displeased groan and go “Are you kidding me?” Anyway yeah I love how they switch off the fourth wall to complain

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 4 years

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Hooo i am on board with anons grimcee ask! Just think, Grim hasn't had a fuck in years and he can't help himself..hes a little rough. He just loses his gentlemen like self, right in front of the lady, tsk tsk

Ill have you know, I had this typed out, ready to go for like an hour ago, then i accidently deleted it. REALLY hope this one stayed my ass wanted to CRY

“Well. We’re in quite the pickle, aren’t we?”

“You can say that again.”

Arcee poked at a very still Rodimus, scowling. They had just returned from their own little adventure, only to find their friends as still as statues. Arcee opened the command center’s panel, and scowled.

“Hey Grim, help me out for a second, please?”

Grimlock turned his head away from touching Cheetor’s toe beans (this was the first time he got to do so WITHOUT being hissed at), to turn to Arcee.

“Yes?”

“Well, I think I can check to see if this is some sort of wiring issue, but I need help taking off this panel to get to the wires. You’re a big, strong dino, right?”

Oh sweet little Arcee, ever the flatterer. With a voice as sweet to match her face, who could say no? He let her get a good grip on it first, before joining in. The first pull seemed to make it loosen, but as much as they needed it to.

“Pardon me, I might just need to fix my stance.”

He pressed himself against her backside, her helm essentially resting on his shoulder, before they both gave another pull. Grimlock couldn’t help but notice that she really did press her aft against his cockpit during this attempt. She really did feel so small and warm against him, he couldn’t help but get just a bit distracted. With one final pull, the panel finally came off, and she gave a little whoop in celebration.

“Great, we got it! Now just hand me my toolbox- oh you got my wrench already?”

When the tool wouldn’t come with her as she pulled, she peered down at it. They took a good few seconds for their braincells to come back, before he pulled away, covering himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry! really, I have NO idea what came over me!”

“Oh no, I’M sorry! I pulled on it and I just-”

She wanted to be humiliated, but she found herself nearly snickering at the whole notion. Grimlock tried to cover his spike (that REFUSED to go back into his panel for some reason), as well as his face, but he wasn’t having such luck. How uncouth of him! How rude! How-

“Grimlock? Grimlock, it’s fine, really, these kinds of things happen!”

He tried to move away from her, but she placed both of her hands onto his arm, clearly worried. Grimlock couldn’t resist those faces she made, and he stopped covering his face.

“Look I...I’m sorry, I swear. I just...It has been AGES since I’ve...known someone intimately, and you were pressed up against me, and I...DO like you, and-”

“Oh is that it? Grimmy, why didn’t you say so?”

He was about to ask just what that meant, before suddenly her arms were around his neck, and she had rested herself against the command center.

“A-Arce, I-”

“It’s fine! I like you, and you clearly need a little help! Come on dino boy, I’m giving you a big yes~”

He felt as if she was just being compliant purely because they were friends, but when she pulled him closer, forcing his spike to press up against her, he couldn’t help but hungrily dive in for a kiss. Arcee and Grimlock weren’t in love at all, but they were in fact, very close, and quite attracted to each other. Arcee was fun, free, kind, and beautiful, while Grimlock was strong, polite, and ever the gentlemech. He made sure to tread carefully, holding her close, peppering her face and neck and kisses. It honestly made Arcee feel almost like a princess. As much as she adored this treatment however, the problem was still pressing. Literally. She gave him a light push away, before popping open her valve panel. It was white, with pink, gorgeous bio lights pulsing. She reached down to fiddle with her node, before slowly stroking his girth. Grimlock was a BIG boy, suffice to say. She leaned up to give him just one more kiss, before she slowly pushed the head past her folds. She sighed in relief, seeming to just melt onto the controls she was laying on. Grimlock wasn’t faring much better, hissing as he felt her fluids slowly dribble onto his spike. She looked at him with such lovey optics, that alone made him hungry.

“You need to stop, you can stop. I’m just doing this to help you, Grim.”

“S-same to you, Arcee.

After carefully positioning himself, he slid himself inside of her, fully. He nearly wanted to overload then and there, and was barely able to hold it. He slowly pulled himself out, then back in. His memory...got a little hazy after that. Suddenly he had grabbed a hold of her wrists, held her down, and just started to slam his hips against hers. She immediately cried out at the sudden flux of stimulation, and god did Grimlock find it just so cute.

“jeez Grimlock! what’s gotten into you?”

“You,”

He snarled. He had his dentae against her neck, making her give quite the yummy little squeal in surprise.

“You’re just...so good, Arcee. You’re so cute, and SO tight, and so LOUD for me.”

She kept trying to respond to him in actual words, but feeling his spike stretch her, feeling his grip be so rough against her, made her weak, only able to give off cries of pleasure.

“I CAN’T help but frag you. You have such a nice valve, I want it. I want you. I want to rut against you until you can’t remember your own name.”

Grimlock shouldn’t be holding her like this, shouldn’t be leaving all sorts of nasty bites against her beautiful body. And he definitely shouldn’t have sworn, pulled himself out, and overloaded right over her. He wanted to say he was clean about it, but he was NOT. He had a good number of years stored inside of him, and all of it soaked her frame. Her stomach, her thighs, even her flushed, gorgeous face. Even in his ecstasy , he slowly pushed his spike inside of her again, gifting her some of his own fluids. By the time he pulled out and his mind had cleared, he head realized just what he had done.

“Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry, that was so rude and BARBARIC of me, I-”

She grinned, and smacked at his chest.

“Oh hush! That was fun! God, I had no clue you could be such a meanie.”

She leaned up to flick his nose, and he chuckled. Thank Primus she forgave his lack of manners. He was about to give her an actual apology, before she suddenly wrapped her arm around him, grinning as she posed for her camera.

“Now come on, let’s get a selfie!”

#arcee #grimlock #lemon #asks

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queen-of-songs · 4 years

Text

The Accidental Crush of Sansa Stark and the recurring annoyance that followed- Chapter 2 pt.1

"Sansa? If you could date any boy counselors here, who would you date?" Shireen, an adorable little camper asked as she walked all of them to canoeing. Sansa paused. Was her developing attraction that obvious? One of the golden staff rules was that there were to be no summer romances or if there was one, to be discreet to the point leadership didn't have any suspicions.

"She'd date Harry of course! Have you seen the way he looks at her?!" Beth giggled. "They would be like Ariel and...Philip!"

"Philip is Aurora's prince, Beth. Ariel's prince is Eric remember?" Alys shook her head at Beth. "I think Sansa would be happiest with Sam!"

"Sam likes Gilly, he blushes every time he's around her," Osha spoke up and the girls around her nodded in agreement.

"Sansa should go out with Dickon, he's so handsome!" Minisa sighed dreamily while Lyanna rolled her eyes.

"Can't you all see Sansa likes...." Lyanna began before Sansa interrupted her. "Girls, I appreciate you all comparing me to a Disney princess and wishing for my happiness. But I assure you, I don't feel that way toward anyone here."

Most of the girls seemed convinced by her little white lie and forgot about their question within seconds. All except for Lyanna. Lyanna stood behind while the other girls went down to the canoeing river. She tilted her head at Sansa in curiosity and Sansa took a deep breath.

"What is it Lyanna?"

"I saw you look at Jon at the pool yesterday."

"Lyanna, I had sunglasses on. I was looking at everyone in the pool." Sansa scoffed, hoping the defiant little camper would drop it. But Lyanna raised her chin with a sly smile on her face.

"Maybe that's true. But I saw you look at him a couple of times today at breakfast and you didn't have sunglasses then. You get a big smile on your face when he's around like the Disney princesses do."

Perhaps I should tone it down a bit.

Sansa took a moment to collect herself and sighed. "Lyanna, Jon is my coworker and friend. I smile when I see all my coworkers..."

"It's different with Jon. That's the way my mom looked at my dad before he died." Lyanna sadly smiled and quickly ran off to join her fellow campers, while Sansa stood in silence.

——————————-

"Girls, can I ask you something?" Sansa asked as she turned up the volume to skype her friends during break time. Margaery was in the process of making an anniversary gift for Theon, Dany was painting her nails so they could be ready for her date night with Daario, Missandei was painting a portrait for Grey, and Brienne was ordering a knife for Jaime's birthday.

"Sure, Sansa!" They all sang in unison.

"Am I being too obvious if one of my campers can tell who I am attracted to?" Sansa spoke quickly, hoping they missed it. But judging by how they were all looking at each other as if they were in the Brady Bunch credits, they did.

"OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Missandei shouted.

"I bet it's Harry! Margaery surmised.

"I think it's Dickon. Did you see the pics Sansa posted that tagged him in? They'd be absolutely perfect together!" Dany sighed happily.

"Well, are you going to tell us who it is?" Brienne rose an eyebrow.

"It's the guy I told you all about that pissed me off a few weeks ago. We've patched things up and he's really...cool." Sansa blushed and saw their collective smiles.

"You never told us Mr. Broody's name, what is it?" Margaery inquired.

"His name is Jon, Jon Snow," Sansa responded, and immediately Dany spat out her drink. "Jon Snow?! You like him?!"

"Yeah. Do you know him Dany?" Sansa asked, confused out of her mind.

"He's my nephew," Dany responded and Margaery's eyes widened. "Dany, how on earth do you have a nephew the same age as you?"

"Remember my older brother Rhaegar? Jon is his whoops kid after he had an affair while Elia was in a coma." Dany shrugged.

"Oh yeah! But you've never mentioned him before, why is that?" Missandei asked in curiosity.

"I didn't know he existed until he came to live with Rhaegar and Elia four years ago. He's hasn't been around much because he was either going to school or working at camp." Dany answered and Brienne leaned forward. "Dany, what were you going to add about Jon earlier when Sansa mentioned that she liked him?"

"He's a great guy...but Sansa, he has a girlfriend. Her name is Lysa Tully. He's been dating her for years. I am truly sorry, Sansa." Dany's face was full of sadness.

"Dany, don't be sorry! I'm glad you told me before I made a fool of myself. Now I can be more cognizant of my actions." Sansa put her hands in a heart shape and Dany laughed as she responded with heart hands back.

"But damn, I wish it were different. It would be so cool to have you as my sis...niece in law. Seven hells, that's so weird...."Dany began before all the girls cackled in unison.

Before long, Margaery narrowed her eyes. That typically meant she was vying for information. "Dany, give us the deets on Lysa."

"My brother and Elia think she's a character," Dany grimaced.

"That sounds like how my grandmother would describe Mr. Baelish and Mr.Varys," Margaery hummed.

"Rhaenys tolerates her and Aegon can't stand to be in the same room as her. My experience made me want to slap her, honestly."

"What happened?" Brienne inquired and Dany sighed. "She made Daario feel uncomfortable because he's not from "here," whatever "here" is supposed to mean."

"Oh. She's one of those types of people... ew does that mean Jon is as well???" Missandei rose an eyebrow.

"No, not by a long shot. Jon is super passionate about social issues and has always been involved in some way or another. He and Lysa got into an argument after she made Daario feel uncomfortable. She ended up apologizing, though I didn't think it was truly genuine. I think it was only to show Jon that she was "improving." Dany shrugged, while Brienne, Margaery, and Missandei collectively sighed. Sansa bit the inside of her cheek.

Of course, he has a girlfriend. He's good looking and has a kind soul. Who was I kidding? Well, maybe I can try to be his friend at least. Yes. That's what I'll do and my feelings will go away. They have before and they will now.

After making her decision, Sansa spoke up.

"Well ladies, enough about me and my sad crush life. Tell me about all your individual plans with your guys!!!!!!"

———————————-

"Sansa, you should go! I'm sure it'll be loads of fun!" Her co-counselor Mya exclaimed.

The leadership team decided last minute to have counselor late-night swim and Sansa internally debated if she really wanted to go.

If I am trying to friendzone my crush, shouldn't I try to limit the times I see him wet and shirtless?

"I'm really tired, Mya. I just want to take a hot shower, it's been a really long day."

It wasn't necessarily a bad excuse. It had been a long day. It hadn't even been five minutes after Sansa ended her skype call with her friends when she heard Dickon radio for her help. Two of the girls got into a fight during canoeing and poor Beth cried the entire time after she fell backward in the river. The next skill area didn't fare well either after Minisa got bit by a brown recluse and had to go to the hospital. Then later in the day, the porch swing broke off at the merchandise store and Lyanna sprained her ankle. Sansa had gotten well acquainted with nurse Thoros. Because she worked so well with the little ones, she typically made calls throughout the week but never this many in one week.

"That's true but Sansa, you've been such a trooper today. You deserve a break." Mya reasoned.

"You were there too, Mya. I wouldn't have survived today without you, honestly. In fact, why don't you go tonight and I'll go tomorrow?" Sansa responded.

"Are you sure, Sansa?"

"Absolutely."

"Aww thanks, Sansa." Mya smiled and hugged Sansa tight for a few seconds before going to her room in the cabin to get a bathing suit.

"Oh by the way Mya, I'd wear the blue one. Harry blushes a little when you wear it." Sansa looked at her nails while Mya's mouth slightly dropped.

"How did you know?! I thought I was hiding it well."

"You are! I'm the only one who can really tell because I'm a big sucker for enemies to lovers so I can tell by the little things."

"...Harry blushed a little when I wore it last?"

"Yeah and I'm pretty sure he was going to say something before one of his campers jumped in the pool with his stuffed kittens." Sansa and Mya began chuckling as they remembered the sweet little boy who wanted to prove cats weren't afraid of water.

"Well thank you for the heads up, Sansa." Mya began to leave before leaning back in the doorway. "Should I wear my braids up or down?"

"Do whatever makes you feel confident."

"I'm going to wear them down. Harry Hardyng, here I come." Mya sang as she left the cabin into the hall to go change.

"Sansa?" a soft whisper woke her up and she could see Mya's outline by the bed. Sansa rose up on her elbow and she could tell Mya wanted to talk out in the hall. She followed her out quietly and then sat against the wall.

"Mya, how was it?" Sansa rose an eyebrow and a deep blush appeared on Mya's brown skin.

"It was wonderful. We... we kissed under the water. It was magical." Mya sighed happily and Sansa's heart leaped with joy.

"Did anyone see you two?"

"Surprisingly and thankfully, no. Everyone was distracted by Sam and Gilly. He finally asked her out!"

"Sounds like a good night for everyone it seems." Sansa smiled and closed her eyes for just a moment before Mya spoke up.

"Do you like anyone Sansa?" Sansa opened her eyes to see Mya have an eyebrow raised.

"Erm... not really." Sansa lied and Mya scoffed as she began redoing her braids.

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure I saw you staring at your former pool duty partner a bit the other day. Is that why you switched?"

"For one, for some reason, I thought Jon was going tonight before I remembered he and Harry are co's this week. Two, it doesn't matter how I feel."

"Why doesn't it matter, Sansa?"

"Because he has a girlfriend." Sansa's voice cracked a little and Mya's face filled with sorrow.

"I'm sorry I brought it up, Sansa."

"It's okay."

"What's your game plan?"

"My game plan? I want to become his friend and try to friendzone him."

"Friendzone your crush, hmm. I've never heard of that before. How are you going to do it?"

"Ask him about his girlfriend, what he likes, try to steer from anything super personal, keep a healthy distance, and....I'll talk about guys I find attractive."

"Besides Jon, who else would you want to go on a date with at camp?"

"Not really." Sansa shrugged.

"Any guys back home?"

"Um sort of I guess? If you count teammates/friends Robb brings home during breaks. His is name is Pyp. He's really cool and kind." Sansa smiled.

"Ooh tell me more!" Mya rested her face on her hands as the girls did during storytime before bed.

"He's majoring in Civil Engineering. He plays left wing on the hockey team at White Harbor, he's pretty good. I wouldn't be surprised if he was drafted in the WHL. He's pretty funny and a movie buff."

"Why didn't you go on a date with him then?"

"I was scared after everything that went down with Waymar, that I was a little hesitant to date."

"What did happen with Waymar?" Mya questioned.

"I made a fool out myself for him. I wore different clothes, dyed my hair black, and I even started going by my middle name to seem "cooler" to him. I..." Sansa shuddered. "I gave him special favors in the hopes, he just so he'd finally see me. One day, he texted me to meet up with him at his house and I went over thinking that he was going to ask me to be his girlfriend. I got there and the door was wide open. I thought it was a bit strange and I went in, worried if Waymar was okay when I heard noises coming from his bedroom. I opened the door and caught him having sex with my former best friend Myranda. I closed the door and ran down the stairs. Waymar and Myranda came down right before I left. Waymar forgot he texted me and tried to apologize while Myranda just smirked at me. I asked her 'How could you?' and she said 'You're the biggest fool to ever think you had a shot with Waymar and I only became friends with you to get to him along with your money. Who would anyone ever want to date someone like you? You're a stupid and ugly little girl. Oh, you're crying now. How sad? No one's ever had the guts to tell you that? You're sasquatch with no curves or boobs."

Sansa looked down at the crown, while hot tears streamed down her face. Mya gathered her in her arms as Sansa sobbed.

"You know what Myranda said about you isn't true right? You're beautiful on the inside and out. Hell, I wish I was as tall and skinny as you." Mya whispered while Sansa shook her head.

"Mya, you're beautiful."

"So are you! Being tall sounds great, I don't like always having to crane my neck to look at Harry when we're bantering. The pool is probably one of the few kisses where he won't have to practically bend down to kiss me. Don't get me started on being curvy and having to find jeans that don't feel like they're not suffocating my thighs and butt while having a huge awkward gap in the back." Mya ranted. "Don't be hard on yourself, Sansa. You're amazing, you need to believe that. The girls love you, I love you, your other friends and family love you, and everyone at camp does. You need to love yourself."

"Thank you, Mya. You're right, I do need to work on loving myself." Sansa smiled.

"That's the spirit!" Mya high fived her and then they heard the door open from Mya's room to see Beth's face full of tears.

"What's wrong Beth? Did you have a nightmare?" Mya asked, her voice full of concern.

"No, I..." Beth's lip wobbled. "Miss Mya, I woke up and I realized I don't have any more underwear for the rest of the week."

"How many did you bring Beth?" Sansa asked as Beth sat down in between her and Mya.

"My brother packed me six."

Only six for Sunday through Friday? I'd pack at least twelve or fourteen... Wait! It's only Tuesday?!

"But it's only Tuesday Beth, how did you go through six?" Mya's eyes widened.

"I... I peed myself a bit on Sunday when I was waiting for the bathroom after I took my shower, so I had to change. Monday, I got my unicorn undies wet from the shower after I dropped them. I asked Lyanna to get some out of my bag. Today, after I fell in the water I got scared I was going to get leeches so I changed into my last pair. I just keep getting bad luck!" Beth started to tear up and an idea popped up in Sansa's mind.

"Beth, are all your dirty clothes in a bag?" Sansa asked.

Beth nodded and Sansa sighed in relief.

"Okay, I'm going to wash all of your dirty clothes in the washer and you'll have your five pairs clean again."

"Won't people judge me for re-wearing the same undies again?"

"No, it's none of their business and besides sometimes I wear the same undies when I don't take a shower for a day if I didn't sweat." Sansa shrugged.

"Same." Mya agreed and Beth looked at the both of them in amazement.

"Thank you so much, Miss Sansa and Miss Mya!" Beth hugged them both and went back into Mya's room.

"What. A. Night," Mya exclaimed and Sansa couldn't help but agree.

"Drinking coffee right before lunch?" Jon asked as Sansa filled her coffee mug.

"Yep. I'm exhausted, I had to wash one of my girls' clothes because she didn't pack enough underwear. She was upset and it broke my heart. Yesterday just wasn't her day."

"Beth right? She's a sweetheart." Jon smiled before he took a sip of his tea.

"She definitely is." Sansa nodded in agreement.

"Is she your favorite this week?"

"We as counselors aren't supposed to have favorites." Sansa attempted to be stern as Jon rose an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes. Sansa began laughing so hard that her nose snorted and coffee spilled down her nose.

She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her nose, refusing to make eye contact with him.

Seven hells, why must I embarrass myself in front of hot guys??? Why can't my laugh be sweet and adorable???

"I like your laugh, it's cute. You should do it more often." Jon's deep voice broke into her reverie and she lifted her eyes to see a small grin on his face.

"You should make more dramatic faces and jokes then," Sansa smiled back and Jon laughed a little.

"Noted." Jon nodded and then his eyebrows knitted together. "I just realized you didn't go to last night's late-night."

"Nope, besides doing Beth's laundry, I took a hot shower and talked to Mya out in the hall for a bit."

"Oh, Mya? Harry had heart eyes when he came back to the cabin last night. About damn time something happened."

"Mr. Jon? Did you just curse on campgrounds?" Sansa dramatically exclaimed and Jon chuckled as he shook his head.

"I sure did, Miss Sansa. Am I going to lose points now?"

#jonsa #jon x sansa #actuallyjonsa #jonsa fandom #jonsa fic #The Accidental Crush of Sansa Stark and the recurring annoyance that followed

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saladejin · 4 years

Text

Solace (M) | 01

4-part Jimin x Reader | fantasy au, school au, magic user!Jimin | Fluff, angst (basically unresolved), smut with some plot

Summary: Why not spice up your high school life with a teleporting boy of your very own? You find yourself not having a choice in the matter.

While he figures out how to fix his mistakes, strap yourself in for an adventure to remember…

Warnings: Kat’s early ass writing, nothing smutty in the first chapter (bear with me, it gets there lol).

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2.7k - first chapter

A/N: Okay, okay. As much as I wanted to edit the absolute shit out of this, and make it 10x better, I stopped myself. This was one of the first smut pieces I ever wrote, and it’s quite old, but I really wanted to have some of my older/first-time writing on the blog so that I could have something to look back on and - better yet - improve from!

I want to look back on it and just think ‘wow, this is absolute trash’, but in a good way. Ya know?

I apologise in advance, yet at the same time I’m hoping some of you out there might find some enjoyment :)

»»————- << masterlist | next >> ————-««

If someone had asked you if you believed in magic a year ago, you would have answered ‘no’ without batting an eyelid. It was simply illogical and plain wrong on so many levels to think greater forces out there actually existed.

Children’s storybooks, fairy-tales, and fictional novels were already out there appealing to the fantasy-ridden minds of the human race, to name a few. So nope, you would never allow yourself to foolishly believe in such silly myths.

Or so you thought.

Reader’s POV - 2nd Person

“As you can see, this historical movement meant…”

You sighed. Over time, drowning out your teacher’s monotonous voice had become much too easy for your liking. You listened to the whispers and soft giggles of your classmates as they all mucked around and paid little to no attention to the lesson taking place.

The year is only halfway done. Should I consider transferring schools?

This place had taught you nothing for the five years you had been here. High school was something that was originally meant to be an ocean of opportunities waiting to be discovered, but now it seemed like a mere wasteland holding no promise for the future; well for your future anyway.

“Does anyone have any questions?” Your teacher droned, looking at everyone over the rim of his glasses as if daring someone to waste his precious time.

Yeah, what’s the point of being here?

You tapped your pencil absent-mindedly against the lined paper in front of you.

“(Y/n),” Your class friend whispered to you from the seat beside yours. You raised an eyebrow at her with a bored eye roll as she pursed her lips guiltily and glanced at your tapping pencil.

“Do you know what he’s been talking about for the last half hour?”

You almost laughed. “Does anyone?” came the scoff from your lips almost instantly. Your friend stifled her smile with one hand so she didn’t draw any unwanted attention to the two of you.

“You’re right, but I also want to pass this exam coming up. How are we meant to do well here?” She asked with a light growl edging her tone. You could only shrug in response, because the answer was also lost on you and had been for as long as you could remember.

“Tell you what, we should get everyone together and come up with a plan to get him fired,” Your eyes lit up, hands suddenly clasping together as the brilliant idea blurted from your mouth. Your friend looked like she was about to whoop for joy and agree with you, but an obnoxious voice cut her off rudely.

“Miss (Y/n), do you have something to share?” The teacher wore his stern expression, eyes flashing with irritation as he stared you down with menace. You felt the anger burning hotter and hotter the more you looked at his punchable face.

Oh, I’m about to tell you exactly what we were talking about you piece of shit.

You were about to stand up and lay it on him, but something interrupted your outburst. Your classmates shifted their attention from you to the strangely flickering lights on the ceiling. Everyone fell silent as the excitement from seeing their teacher get sassed died down, the atmosphere was eerie as the room suddenly became very chillingly cold.

“Who’s playing a prank? Show yourselves before you get punished even worse,” The teacher shouted into the stagnant air. Nobody answered to him or his threat.

“What’s going on? Is it that kid from the other class messing with us again?” Your friend clicked her tongue while gradually moving to cling onto your arm. You barely felt her touch due to the intense amount of goosebumps travelling along your exposed skin. Students begun to question things loudly and the nerves shook their voices as the weird power outages continued.

“It’s probably just the building’s power. Can we get help from the office?” One boy asked your scowling teacher after a few minutes.

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea,” The bald man shook his head and finally walked towards the closed door of the classroom to check for any tricksters.

Before the boy or anyone else could make a move to get help, the flickering stopped and the temperature seemed to return to normal. Everyone exchanged confused glances until the weirdest spectacle of all occurred right near the teacher’s desk.

A body appeared from literal thin air and landed heavily on the carpet below. There was a muffled groan from the figure and the room filled with gasps and shouts of alarm as the person sat up straighter. It was definitely male, seemingly Asian and probably the same age as you. You blinked your eyes rapidly as you tried to comprehend what had just happened.

“You! Were you playing this prank?” Your teacher screeched as he turned around. He hadn’t seen what had happened, but had heard everyone’s shock and responded immediately.

You watched in amazement as the randomly appearing boy lifted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion. When you looked closer, you could see his chocolate brown eyes gleaming with fear.

He knows just as much as we do…how did this happen?

You being the courageous person you were, got to your feet and stepped around the table tentatively. You didn’t want to approach him just yet because you didn’t know if he was dangerous. Your teacher continued to yell at the boy as you drank in his beautiful night-black hair and perfectly even complexion. You realised just how attractive this person was, but those thoughts had to be swept aside as you recognised the pure terror flooding his gaze.

“I don’t know what’s happening! Please help me, I don’t know where I am,” The boy finally spoke. Well, he spoke, but in flawlessly fluent Korean…

What the-

Your classmates threw even more concerned glances at one another while your teacher just stood still, fully stunned. They hadn’t understood a single word, but you had.

“(Y/n) sit back down, he could hurt you!” Your friend hissed, and you jumped when she grasped at the bottom of your school dress to bring you backwards. The movement caused the strange but beautiful boy to whip his head around in your direction. He was only wearing a casual white t-shirt and loose grey pants with no shoes, but everything looked a little dirtied. How exactly had he appeared here of all places? By what method?

“Hello,” You murmured shakily in his language and squatted down to seem less threatening. You had to muster up what scraps of Korean you knew, as you were known to be the language-centric person of your year level. It was one of your favourite things to do, learn languages, but you never thought it would come in handy for a situation such as this.

“Hello? Do you know Korean?” The boy breathed in a sudden gush of hope and relief. You could’ve sworn tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes, but you weren’t judging because he seemed so lost and scared. You stood up again as he hurriedly got to his feet, his hands trembling and gaze darting around the room from one student to the next.

“I’m calling the principal, we need to figure out what is going on!” Your teacher spluttered before racing from the room, a few pieces of paper from his desk fluttered to the ground as the air rushed past. A few students followed the teacher, and their gazes were terrified from the weird events. You tried to breathe deeply.

“H-how did this happen? I want to be home, argh why did I try that fucking spell?!” The boy cried angrily as he stumbled until his back hit the classroom wall. He buried his fingers painfully deep into his hair and keeled over. You raised your hands, not knowing what to do or how to act. You wanted to help him, but was that okay? Should you even be going near something so strange and unpredictable?

“(Y/n) do you know that language? Maybe you should say something else?” Your friend whimpered from behind you. She had gathered nearby with the other remaining students whose curiosity had gotten the best of them. You felt the overwhelming pressure envelop you whole as your eyes trailed from the group of familiar faces to the frustrated boy.

I have to help him. It’s not something evil, I can tell.

He looked so out of place here, you could see he didn’t have a single clue about what had happened. You carefully moved towards him while ignoring the loud warnings of your friends behind you. You had to know what was happening, and you had to make sure he was okay.

“Um, hello. Who are you?” You asked in Korean, standing in front of him but not too close. You could be as brave as you wanted, but you didn’t want to die just yet.

The boy looked up, his red-rimmed and puffy eyes were the only evidence left of his overpowering emotions. Now he just looked empty with disbelief and shaky with apprehension.

“I’m Park Jimin, just Jimin I guess,” He answered, voice broken and cracking. He seemed weary and emotionally exhausted after all the disorder. You felt seriously bad for him, but still didn’t know how to approach the situation. The only reason all of the responsibility dumped itself onto you was because of your particular skill with language.

“You? What’s your name?” He asked unexpectedly. You looked up from the ground with raised eyebrows, shocked to see that he had taken a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He even managed to smile for a solid second before his full lips pulled into a frown once more.

“Uh, (Y/n). I’m (Y/n), and this is my school,” You tried to explain with your musty skills. He seemed vaguely amused with you, but the humour was lost underneath his crushing anxiety and fear of the unknown. You caught the way he observed you as if he had just seen you for the first time. You could only hope your hair wasn’t too messy.

“This is (Y/c), but how did you get here?” You questioned while using one pointed finger to emphasise what you were asking. He started to explain something quickly, but you only managed to translate a few of the words in your head. He was growing agitated fast, and you regretted asking immediately.

“Hey, hey! Calm down Jimin,” You soothed to the best of your ability, reaching out to touch him but jerking your hands back when you thought about what you were doing. You took one step backwards and sighed, wishing this had never happened.

“Sorry,” He apologised softly.

Before you could protest, your teacher burst into the room with the principal hot on his heels. A few other members of the school’s authority followed, and you winced when you thought about how scary and intimidating the whole thing looked. You turned around just in time to see Jimin’s eyes flashing with more fear.

“It’s okay, they’re okay. They’re teachers, they’ll help you,” You comforted and actually brought one hand up to touch his shoulder. The contact was brief but it seemed to ease some of his worries. He flashed you such an immensely grateful look that your mind short-circuited suddenly. He was really, really handsome.

“Please come here,” Your principal commanded, and to your surprise Jimin looked like he understood to an extent. He pushed off the wall to obey, but looked back as if asking for you to come with him, to be his solace through this hell.

“Do you need someone to help translate and everything?” You piped up hopefully, but you completely expected to be met with the cold hardened stares of the teachers and principal.

“No, we’ll be fine,” The principal assured with a clipped tone, eyeing Jimin as if he were a dirty rag on the side of the street. You clenched your teeth in anger as the party of teachers left with the boy in tow. He saw your frustrated and guilty expression, but only flashed you an understanding smile before leaving the room.

He seems so kind-hearted, I wish he would be treated better. I hope he figures out his shit.

You felt upset, but didn’t know why since you had literally barely met the guy. In all honesty, you should still be scared of him just like everyone else was, but you just weren’t.

“Girl, are you okay? At least that weird person didn’t attack you,” Your friend shook her head in disbelief. The other students dispersed back to their seats and you only noticed then that the rest had returned when the teachers had arrived. Everyone was back and chatting about the strange happening animatedly.

“He wouldn’t. Didn’t you see him? He seemed so afraid, but he was kind,” You argued. You felt angry that nobody seemed to be feeling sorry for Jimin. He was the one that deserved to be scared, not any of you or the teachers.

“I don’t know how you got all that from the small conversation you had, but I guess whatever you say,” Your friend shrugged.

As things seemed to return to normal, you couldn’t push your concerns for the boy out of your mind. Was he okay? What if those cold-hearted teachers shipped him away somewhere just because he couldn’t properly explain how he’d appeared? He could quite easily be sent to the police, or eventually a random orphanage.

“Are you still thinking about him? I’ll admit he was pretty handsome, but that was way too weird! I mean didn’t he just randomly appear in this room?” Your friend grunted, her tone raising as she tried to convince you to think of something else.

“I don’t know!” You widened your eyes, feeling slightly irritated that you couldn’t know absolutely everything, yet you were still expected to. Maybe coming from a family of lawyers did that to you.

Everyone fell silent again and you jerked your head towards the door impatiently. The teachers filtered back in with Jimin, but you blinked firmly when you saw that the boy was dressed in the uniform of your school. His hair was a little neater than when he had appeared, and his eyes were now crinkling along with the striking smile he wore.

“Everyone, please welcome Jimin Park to your class. I’m sure you will all treat this new transfer student with care,” The principal eyed everyone pointedly, just as she usually did, but you sat further backwards in your chair in bewilderment.

“Why-”

“I’m glad to meet you…all. I am (Y/n)’s family friend,” Jimin cut you off and spoke with a broken accent, which in all honesty you and many others found to be adorable.

Wait, my family friend?

You widened your eyes and brought your brows together in sheer confusion. Did you just hear that right? You were about to open your mouth to question him when he flashed you a knowing look. It was a warning, a warning to keep your mouth shut.

“I’m…not good at English. I will try my best, thank you,” He finished and instinctively tried to bow, soon straightening as he remembered he wasn’t in Korea anymore.

“Oh, so this is the dad’s friend’s son you always talk about. Wow, he’s handsome!” Your friend whispered to you with a tiny giggle. You looked at her in shock, mouth hanging slightly open as you tried to grasp what was happening.

The principal left as Jimin moved forward to take the empty seat right next to you. You threw him a glare that demanded an explanation, but you knew it would need to wait for later because your asshole of a teacher was about to start class again.

“Sorry, when we get home I will talk,” Jimin muttered in Korean, leaning towards you so that no-one would overhear. Not that it would matter since you were the only one who could possibly understand him anyway.

“Um, ‘we’? I don’t remember my home being yours too,” You choked out, not even caring if he understood or not.

To sum it up, a random boy had landed in your classroom, caused the whole class and its teacher to freak out, and had then proceeded to alter everyone’s memories somehow.

You were in for one hell of a ride.

#bts au #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin au #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #jimin angst #jimin fluff #magic park jimin #salade-tb #solace

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