#the two things that always keeps me going is spite and anticipation for event | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sungbeam · 1 year ago

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𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 — act I, scene ii

nonidol!hwang intak x f!reader

when summit poster boy hwang intak's car breaks down in the school parking lot, it sets off a chain of events that leads to you, someone he was perhaps always meant to find. the only problem is that the two of you are far from the ideal couple, and your peers are apt to keep that status quo.

▷ genre, chapter warnings. s2f2l, grief and mentions of death and terminal illness, classism and discrimination, forbidden romance au, minimal swearing, angst, humor

▷ word count. 2.3k

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a/n: there's quite a bit of texting in this one so i apologize 😭

SUMMER (RISING JUNIORS).

INTAK wasn't one to give up easily. A couple weeks after school had been dismissed for the much-anticipated summer break, he was still in town while the rest of his friends were off traveling the world with their families. His dad had left the house early, as per usual, to head to the company building for work, so he enjoyed the serenity of an empty house as he took his time rolling out of bed and making himself breakfast.

As he sat on one of the breakfast bar stools in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal before him, he pulled out his brother's phone and opened up one of the text threads. The last thing he had texted Yn was about properly working out a stain—he'd received a very (albeit amusing) passionate lecture from her about drinking or consuming anything in the car, because if he spilled anything on the seats, she would risk her own identity to come and beat him up.

He'd had a very good laugh at that.

jae's phone: bored

Not even a minute later, he received a reply.

yer a wizard yn!: why r u still using his phone?

jae's phone: well do u want someone to find your contact on *my* phone, miss secrecy?

yer a wizard yn!: fair enough

jae's phone: hey how old r u

yer a wizard yn!: wow it never occurred to u that i could just be some old pervert?

jae's phone: r u??

yer a wizard yn!: lucky for u, no

jae's phone: lucky for me? 👀

jae's phone: before u virtually threaten to hit me again

jae's phone: r u my brother's age then? u must be

yer a wizard yn!: nope

jae's phone: my age then? idk if u know my age actually

yer a wizard yn!: am i 5 years old? no

jae's phone: i will , hit u

yer a wizard yn!: LMAO

In spite of his texts, Intak laughed down at the counter and set aside the phone for a second so he could spoon some more of the sweet cereal milk into his mouth. He and this Yn person had been trading texts these past couple of weeks. All of the conversations had been brief and harmless at most; it was all just his attempts at holding a conversation while Yn deflected anything that would expose who she was. Except for this conversation and their first one, he had no inkling of her identity.

yer a wizard yn!: okay, fine yes, i'm ur age i think

yer a wizard yn!: at least that's what jae said

Intak leaned into the conversation. Do u go to the academy too?

yer a wizard yn!: my friends say that's confidential

jae's phone: ur friends knew my brother too??

yer a wizard yn!: mhm

jae's phone: okay well,,, wait tf they're READING THESE??

He could hear her laughing at him now, even if he didn't know what her laugh sounded like. Did Jaehyuk know all these people in secret? He felt like a right idiot now.

yer a wizard yn!: now they're not, i just shooed them away

yer a wizard yn!: i can't tell u explicitly, but if u figure it out on ur own per se,,,,

jae's phone: ahhhh i see

jae's phone: don't say anything if u go to the academy

jae's phone: LETS GOOOO !! 😩

yer a wizard yn!: u r so…

jae's phone: handsome, smart, funny, etc lots to choose from

yer a wizard yn!: *crickets*

jae's phone: rude 😔

jae's phone: doing anything for the summer?

yer a wizard yn!: nah just working and hanging out w friends. u?

jae's phone: ignoring my responsibilities lol

It wasn't exactly a lie. After Jaehyuk had passed away, his father had made it incredibly clear that Intak was now to step into his shoes. No more second child privileges. Plus, how could he find the energy to get away when that was all he did last summer to forget the pain of Jaehyuk leaving?

yer a wizard yn!: once when jae (well ig *you*) and his family went on vacation, he left the car w me. it was kind of weird having that thing just sitting in my garage

jae's phone: really? huh. what year was that

yer a wizard yn!: i think he said u guys were going to jeju or sumn

Ah, that must have been the last vacation Intak could remember enjoying with Jae.

jae's phone: oh yeah, i remember that holiday

jae's phone: he must've really trusted u then

yer a wizard yn!: yeah ig so… couldn’t even drive it then, so maybe that’s why lol

Minutes passed of silence in the text chain. Intak wanted to know what she was thinking on the other side of the phone, if she was even as sad as he was. He'd figured out that his brother and Yn had been really close, so she must have gone through some type of grieving process like he had? He didn't know anyone else as heartbroken as he was. His dad didn't really care, only that his number one heir was now six feet under. Intak was still bitter that his father didn't even stay after the funeral, but he supposed everyone grieved in different ways.

Intak picked up the phone again and began typing. My brother didn't trust a lot of people, he admitted. Idk why I feel the need to but thanks for being there for him.

yer a wizard yn!: wish i had been there for him better to be honest

Yeah, that one hurt. I get that. I blame myself too.

yer a wizard yn!: ur brother loved u a lot tho, intak. that's why he left u the car

yer a wizard yn!: it was something to remember him by

Intak swiped at the warm tears trailing down his face. He wished he didn't have the dumb car. He wished his brother was here instead.

yer a wizard yn!: i'm sorry if i made u upset, but just remember that he loved u so much

yer a wizard yn!: if u ever need someone to talk to who knew him as u did or close to how u did, then come find me

jae's phone: thanks yn

jae's phone: i wish he had trusted me enough to introduce me to u tbh

Somehow, she had figured out that he wasn't saying this as a joke like all the other times.

yer a wizard yn!: he did trust u. he was just trying to protect me

jae's phone: it worries me when u say that

yer a wizard yn!: it's okay just,,, forget i said anything

As if he could just forget that speaking to her could jeopardize her. He didn't even know how this could get her in trouble, if he was interpreting what she was saying correctly. If only Jae had left him a note explaining who Yn was, but he supposed it wasn't … safe to?

jae's phone: how did my brother even find u lol

Great segue, he shoveled a spoon of cereal into his mouth so he didn't have to look at his gross attempt at a subject change.

yer a wizard yn!: strangely enough, just like this

jae's phone: ??

yer a wizard yn!: he texted my number thinking it was this auto repair helpline he found online w his problems and i fixed his car haha

jae's phone: oh yo that's kinda cool tho

yer a wizard yn!: ur both really bad w cars

jae's phone: oUT OF POCKET 😭

jae's phone: wait so u go to the academy

yer a wizard yn!: bye intak

jae's phone: NOOOO WAIT COME BACCCK

It was late, that much he knew, but sleep would not bless his eyes and body and mind. Intak stared up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom with moonlight streaming through the curtains by his bedside. There were too many things in his head to even think about a peaceful night of sleep.

"You could just look her up in the yearbook," he said aloud into the darkness. "But that would be invading her privacy." And Yn had made it so very clear that she was against him finding out her identity. But she had pretty much confirmed that she went to the academy, that she was in his year, and that her name was actually Yn—

Wait. Okay, so maybe she hadn't confirmed the latter yet, but Intak assumed his brother didn't make contact names that didn't make sense.

He sighed. He wished Jaehyuk could have given him some sort of sign.

Intak reached for his phone sitting on the nightstand, but instead of going to YouTube or some other streaming service he opened up her text messages.

Just as he was about to type a greeting, she beat him to it.

yer a wizard yn!: can't sleep either?

jae's phone: yeah ig not

jae's phone: wbu?

yer a wizard yn!: yeah no same

jae's phone: i wanna ask u stuff, but i don't wanna make u uncomfortable. it's not abt u personally, it's just abt ur connection w my brother. idk really

yer a wizard yn!: this is closure for u, i get it

yer a wizard yn!: ask to ur heart's content

jae's phone: did u know… that he was sick?

There was a long pause, and Intak waited patiently while laying on his side.

yer a wizard yn!: i found out really late

yer a wizard yn!: i knew something was wrong, but he was good at hiding it

yer a wizard yn!: i didn't get to say goodbye to him tho

jae's phone: i'm sorry yn

yer a wizard yn!: don't be, it's okay

yer a wizard yn!: were ur friends close to him too?

jae's phone: they thought he was cool and they got along, but they weren't super close. ig i can say ur one of the very few people who prob grieved like i did

yer a wizard yn!: that's… god, that's really sad. everyone at school liked him tho

jae's phone: tch yeah, but yk our school's full of fake shitheads

yer a wizard yn!: yeah fs… i think ur wrong in one aspect tho

jae's phone: what's that?

yer a wizard yn!: *grieves not grieved, i think we're both still grieving

jae's phone: would u be uncomfortable if i sent a voice message?

As soon as he sent the text, he grimaced. Oh no, he was going to be faced with immediate rejection. Intak scrambled onto his stomach and elbows to get in a better position to text faster and beat the three moving dots at the bottom of the screen.

yer a wizard yn!: sure go ahead

jae's phone: WAITWAIT

He wanted to slap himself.

jae's phone: okay uhm gimme a second

jae's phone: didn't actually think u would agree

Good going, idiot. Now what?

Intak sat up against his headboard. He didn't know why he asked in the first place, but maybe he just wanted to voice his thoughts aloud for once. He licked his lips, gathered his thoughts—

"Hey—" he cleared his throat, coughing and wishing he didn't just voice crack. "Sorry, hi. I thought this was gonna be a lot less awkward, but here goes nothing." He paused, then continued on, "Do you ever… miss him? Just miss him a lot. Sometimes I watch movies and they're always like—sometimes I feel them sitting next to me or hear their laughter—and I don't. I don't feel him next to me, I don't hear his voice or his laugh, Yn. I wish I did though. I wish I could miss him like that. Do you think it would hurt less if I did?"

Intak hit the send button, then exited out of the app so he could look for the right kind of music to listen to. The room was just too quiet right now.

To his surprise, when she replied, it was not in the form of a text message, but in the form of her own voice message. He was about to hear her voice. That had to mean something right?

"Hey Intak." His heart thumped. Woah… "Yeah, I was unsure of replying in a voice message, but I thought it was fair. Don't worry; I've gaslit myself enough to feel comfortable," she laughed to herself. "That was a joke, by the way. Yeah, I laugh at my own jokes."

Intak snorted.

The sound of laughter faded slightly as she continued on though. "Yeah, I miss him a lot. I think… I think this past year, I've been trying to ignore the fact that I miss him, but I do. When I saw the convertible steaming that one day, I just couldn't stop myself from texting his number, I guess. Force of habit. I don't really feel those sensations either, but I don't think it would hurt any less if you did feel that way. I think any way you grieve is valid, really." Her voice went quiet at the end. "You're not alone, y'know?"

His cheeks were warm again and his breathing trembled. Intak hugged his knees to his chest, wondering why his head hurt when he was crying, but maybe it was because he had not cried fully in a long time. He sniffled, collecting himself to reply.

"Thanks Yn," he said, voice slightly hoarse from his crying. "You have a nice voice, by the way." Nice was an understatement. His heart was beating a little too fast at the moment.

She replied with, "Thanks Intak. You, too."

jae's phone: u said ur friends knew him too

jae's phone: were they close?

yer a wizard yn!: yeah, i'd say they had gotten to know him almost as well as i did. they hung out w us at the garage

jae's phone: like an auto repair shop?

yer a wizard yn!: yeah

jae's phone: this feels illegal to know

yer a wizard yn!: maybe u deserve a taste of the forbidden for once tho

And for some reason, that engraved itself in his head and right above his heart. He wouldn't know that from here on out, he would wear that phrase like a crown.

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years ago

Note

General #7

Hiiii! Okay, well I bet you thought I forgot about this! Or, more than likely, you forgot you even requested this back in Decemeber. But never fear, my child. I remembered and have been thinking of this fic and what to write for months.

And so I’m so sorry, I’m a total perfectionist and I started and discared like 3 ideas for this before deciding on this oneshot sooo if this sucks, I’m at least comforted by the fact that I accomplished something in writing this itself? That sentence made zero sense but... I’m tired 🤷🏼‍♀️😅.

Prompt : General # 7 :

“Is that blood?”

“Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-”

“You are literally bleeding.”

Anyways, thank you for the prompt and here we go!

Whispers Of Light

I don't know exactly how I got roped into this. How exactly Delly Cartwright, Peeta's best friend—and alright, my friend now too—managed to convince me to help her and Leevy and about three dozen other members of the community with sorting boxes.

Sorting boxes. Organizing contents. Decorating with "found treasures".

The type of activities Prim loved doing with our mother. The type of activities I refused to do after my father died, to punish my mother for her depression.

The type of activities I now kick myself for walking out on, that I'll never be able to take back. I'll never be able to get those moments back with my sister. I'll never know what those hours between her and our mother entailed, because I chose to exclude myself, just so I could hold onto my petty anger for something that was out of all our control.

Maybe that's why I agreed to help Delly and the others with sorting through boxes upon boxes of debrief, of the items that scarcely survived Twelve's bombing almost two years ago. Maybe I only agreed out of guilt, both for never doing this type of endeavor with my sister and for being the direct cause of the bombing itself.

But whatever my reasons were, I agreed to help nonetheless, and I always follow through my promises. If there was one part of me forged in the war, if only one minor aspect of me was amplified in the smoke and haze and blood of revolution, it was the importance of keeping your promises, against all odds.

The dire consequences of a broken promise has long lasting aftereffects, beyond anything either Haymitch or I wish to dwell on.

"Katniss!" Delly calls, holding up an old, half-ripped paper book that is completely void of a front cover. "Look! I think this book is from the old Apothecary Shop!"

I squint at the dusty, decimated item, not entirely convinced. "I don't think so?" I murmur, unable to even decipher the words on the now melted, conjoined pages. "I'm pretty sure my mother kept the only apothecary book in her family?"

Kanon Bagley turns to inspect the battered item in his girlfriend's hands as well. "I don't think this is a medicinal plant book, Dells," he says sheepishly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

She gives him an incredulous look. "What do you mean medicinal?"

I peer up at him too, not comprehending his meaning any more than Delly. "What kind of plants do you think are in here?" I ask, taking the nearly destroyed object myself and flipping through the worn pages again, seeing odd herbs that neither of my parents ever mentioned or had on hand. "These don't look like the poisonous ones my father told me about?"

Kanon bites back a laugh now and I can't help feeling a little perturbed. As kind and soft-spoken as he usually is, I'm foreign to the feeling of him laughing at me. "What?" Delly snaps at him before I even can.

He still chuckles though, in spite of both our nasty glares. "You guys, it's a book of plants that'll get you high."

It takes a full minute for the meaning to dawn on me. Long enough that Leevy and a couple guys I used to go to school with come over to inspect the book as well. Long enough that they confirm Kanon's assessment just as I realize we're talking about plants that'll make you feel akin to how the morphling made me feel while confined for I killing Coin.

While everyone else snickers—and Delly full on chortles—I pass the book back to Kanon, sliding out of the crowd and moving towards a brand new box of savaged items.

It's not that the mention of plant-based drugs is a trigger for me. It's not something I ever truly gave any thought to before, to be honest. My father likely knew of them but it's not like he was about to bestow that kind of knowledge on his eleven-year-old and my mother perhaps felt it was inappropriate to mention.

No, it wasn't the subject in itself that hit a sore spot for me. But like so many times before, it's where the subject led my mind. It's where the topic took me back to.

Snow's Execution Day. The day I chose to kill President Coin instead. Being thrown back into my old tribute room. Getting high on the morphling.

Trying to forget all that I'd lost. Trying to forget my little sister becoming a human torch before my very eyes. My district engulfed in flames. The ambiguous loss of my best friend.

The connection between me and Peeta that I believed then would be permanently severed. That I believed then to be irreparable.

I suppose I believed then I was irreparable too.

And I miss Peeta suddenly, even more than I already did. Because he always knows what to say when my thoughts turn dark, when I'm suddenly triggered out of the happy, every day events and suctioned backwards to a war torn bird with her wings clipped.

But he's not here to talk me down or scare away the ghosts haunting my mind. He's not here to comfort me or even shoot me a supportive glance. No, he's at his very busy business today.

Peeta's bakery—the Mellark Bakery—has only proven to withstand the test of time these past few months. Since someone accidentally burned down the place, with nothing more than a croissant and a fancy Capitol toaster, the rebuilt bakery has been nothing but a success.

And also extremely time-consuming, I grumble internally, as I begin to pull out stuffed toys that once belonged to dead children.

"If any of those are still intact, we can donate them to the community home," Leaf John says as he opens the box across from me.

"And what exactly are we supposed to be use as decorations from these boxes?" I murmur, peering into another cardboard container, full of half-charred papers and cloths.

The general idea of today, as Delly had pitched it to me last week, was to help the community of Twelve finally sort through these boxes, donate what we could to those in need and decorate the new Justice Building with the leftover contents inside.

Somehow though I can't imagine pinning up terrible drawings of plants that'll inebriate you or headless teddy bears is going to bode well with the district.

Delly rolls her eyes in my direction—a whole new kind of response that I never thought I'd be receiving from the girl who skipped through the town square until she was fourteen years old—before nodding towards boxes on top of the ladder. "We're decorating the Justice Building with the surviving photos from those boxes, Katniss."

"Oh." Then why am I sorting these grimy, dirt-covered playthings? Why didn't anyone give me more clear instructions on today?

And why has it taken almost two years for Twelve to get a group of people together to organize the surviving items from the bombing?

I have no idea how Peeta's managed to get two bakeries built in the time it's taken for thirty-eight of us to come to the Justice Building and look through fifty cardboard boxes. And if I'm being honest, I have no idea why I'm even still here helping. I'm clearly not contributing much to the event. There's definitely more than enough volunteers without me.

And, of course, I could be at the bakery right now. Without a doubt, I'd be of more service there than I am here, digging through dusty knickknacks. I could be helping Peeta and Thom and the other part-time employees, exerting more knowledge and authority than I have here.

After all, Peeta did say the bakery was partially mine. In his mind, at least.

The ulterior motive of getting small, fleeting moments with my boyfriend, of basking in the feeling of safety with him beside me, of the occasional stolen kiss or hand squeeze when no one is looking, runs through the back of my mind.

And sways my decision immensely.

I open my mouth to tell Delly and the others that I'm about to head out, that they clearly have it covered here and I'm just in the way, when at the worst possible second, Leevy kindly murmurs, "Katniss, do you mind starting on the box on the ladder? Seeing if any of the pictures are in decent enough shape?"

I hesitate for a long moment, realizing immediately my predicament. It'd be rude to leave right after someone just essentially assigned me a task. I did agree to be here today, to help out with this tedious project. Leaving right now would only come off as rude and inconsiderate.

This is the reason I never did enjoy group assignments in school. The longer I'm here, the more I'm rediscovering this fact about myself. The division of the workload, the bore of the standing around, not knowing if you're doing the right or wrong thing, the lack of total control.

But I still nod after waiting a beat too long and agree with the nicest flare in my tone I can manage.

I'll go through the one box at the top of the ladder and then subtly make my exit afterwards. The image I unintentionally conjured up of Peeta and the bakery is still pulling at me, making me anxious to get back to him, to see him again even though we were together only three hours ago.

Since we officially became a couple a few months back—though Haymitch scoffs at that notion, claiming we've been together since Peeta first started sleeping over in my bed—I've found myself growing far more clingy to him than I ever could have anticipated. I hate when he leaves for the bakery in the mornings now, even as I still revel in the solace I find inside the woods. I look forward to his return home every night. More than even look forward to it, I'm usually at the bakery around the closing hours, helping him clean and inventory, asking him when he's coming home. Maybe looking somewhat unconsciously flirtatious as I say it.

I grab the box sitting on the ladder's top stair and pull it open, easily maintaining my balance one rung down, the same way I maintain my balance on a tree branch while hunting.

Inside pours out a plethora of photographs, mostly of Twelve's now past citizens. Near the top of the pile I see images of Greasy Sae's daughter, Dolly. The mother of her granddaughter. The daughter who died of croup a few years before the war.

Those photos must belong to Sae, I realize. Which means more of her items are probably scattered throughout the boxes here. And despite the fact that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'll tell me not of be impractical, that if she's made it two years without these things she doesn't need them now, I still make a mental note to return her lost items. If nothing else, I make a mental promise to give back to her the photos of her daughter.

I know better than anyone what kind of comfort photographs of the deceased can provide.

As if in line with my thoughts, as if I alone manifested it somehow, the next image that catches my eye is one I entirely do not anticipate.

It's a shiny photo, on the kind of glossy paper my family could never afford. In the image is a blonde man with broad shoulders and a tall build. Wrapped in his embrace stands a petite girl, with long blonde curls and mascara accentuating her already long lashes. The couple both have eyes that match the color of the sky and are dressed up in some of the nicest clothes in all of Twelve. A white dress with lace. A gray suit with a black vest. The pretty girl wears jewelry and lipstick and there's a familiar glint in the male's eyes and I find myself mesmerized.

And I can't pretend I don't see my boyfriend in both of their faces. I can't pretend Peeta isn't the spitting image of both his parents.

He has his mother's smile, I realize with startling assurance. I never saw the witch smile personally, at any point in my life so I suppose I wouldn't know where he got his charming, sweet grin from.

The mannerism looks so out of place on his mother. The kind smile Peeta has, the one that could light up a blackened sky, doesn't bode with the woman in the picture, even on her wedding day. The charming smile doesn't fit with what I know of the woman's character. With what little about her Peeta chooses to share.

But I'm even more surprised to find how much Peeta has come to resemble his father. How much Peeta has grown to favor the now deceased man.

The last time I saw the baker—the original baker, that is. Haidon Mellark—before the Quarter Quell, I resented the fact that Peeta wasn't as tall or as broad as his father. I privately believed if he'd inherited those traits, he'd be even more likely to win the games again and I could worry about him less.

Peeta was always taller than me and was always remarkably strong, after working in the bakery since childhood. But his father was a whole different level. Haidon Mellark, I'd forgotten until now, had a body that could only rival my own father's.

And as it turns out, Peeta did inherit Haidon's physicality. He just also happened to be a late bloomer. Like his mother, I imagine, staring at her tiny frame in the picture.

The change in Peeta's form occurred so gradually I barely even noticed until a couple months ago, when I woke up with my head against his heart and abruptly realized just how broad he had become. Until I couldn't even reach to kiss his jaw on my tip toe. Until he started laughing at me and had to lift me up in order to properly embrace the way I like.

"Katniss?" I hear Delly beckon, trying to bring me back to reality. Trying and failing, that is. I hear her but only in a vague, distant sense. My mind is still stuck on the image in my grasp. Still stuck on the novelty that I managed to find a remembrance for the boy who still at times questions if his memory is full of lies.

"I still cry about my family and somedays I can't even remember their faces."

I never even considered the possibility of finding a token of Peeta's departed family here. It never occurred to me, the potential finds in this box at my fingertips, that I could take home to my boyfriend. I never imagined finding him something to hold onto when the inevitable dark day came again like a storm cloud, full of thunder.

I'm so entranced what this could mean for Peeta, so lost in my own little world, that I'm barely even hanging onto the ladder. I'm definitely not as steady as I should be, standing near the top rung.

And I'm definitely not steady enough to hang on when Delly gives it a rough shake, trying to catch my attention.

The boxes break my fall. Sort of. Kanon and Leaf John had taken the liberty of placing the empty cardboard, already looked through and emptied, beneath the ladder.

Falling headfirst into a large, void box is better than falling plainly onto the filthy, concrete tile floor. But not ideal. Not as helpful as falling into a box of surviving clothes or toys would have been.

Delly apologized profusely for shaking the ladder. She'd even begun to cry when she noticed the blood seeping from my forehead.

Thankfully Kanon was there, as I didn't have the energy to console her much. I don't even know how I managed to cut my head at all, but it stung a fair amount and it provided me the excuse I wanted minutes prior, to escape the group project and head for the bakery.

Even after the fall, my mind still was cemented on the newfound treasure. My first instinct was still to show this memento to Peeta as soon as possible.

Kanon though, like a good friend, insisted on walking me home, despite my many protests that it was unnecessary, that I was just fine, that I could walk home blind if I had to. He insisted, foiling my intention to walk directly to the bakery and not wait for Peeta's return home, which still remained hours away.

Kanon was surprisingly stubborn when he felt strongly about something and I chose to relent, to give in and allow him to accompany me back to what used to be Victor's Village—where he now resided with Delly, inside Peeta's old home—without much fight.

Fighting for your independence and autonomy doesn't exactly present you as rational when there's a bloody gash in your forehead.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Kanon asks as we make out way up my porch.

I look up, maybe a little startled, from Mr. and Mrs. Mellark's wedding photo. "My head?"

"Yeah," he says carefully, looking at the blood like it's a mutt in an arena.

I shrug, doing my best not to indicate how dizzy I actually feel. Either from the fall or the blood still dripping out despite my attempt to plug the wound up with old cotton rags someone sorted into the trash box. "I've had worse."

He chuckles, a little sardonically. "Yeah, so have I."

I thank him for walking me home—for it was as inconvenient as it was sweet—and close the door slowly behind me, before leaning my ear against the wooden frame, waiting. Waiting for him to climb the steps down from my porch and make his way back to the Justice Building. Waiting for him to be far enough out of sight that I can sneak back out without him also trying to accompany me to the bakery.

It's not that I don't appreciate Kanon and Delly and all of my other friends' concerns. It's the fact that I wish to bestow a likely loaded item upon my boyfriend and I really don't need an audience to do it.

It's not the easiest feat, to slyly time it so Kanon won't hear me opening and shutting my front door again. And it's probably not my smartest plan, to walk alone along the rocky cobblestones and the uneven concrete, with a less than level head and body.

But I make it to the back door of the bakery still, just as I knew I would. It takes three times as long, but I make it there nonetheless.

Still clutching the photograph of his parents between my fingers too. Still with the same primary focus on my mind. To give him a token of remembrance, a token of the imperfect family he lost so tragically, that he still greatly missed, even when he can't say their names. Even when he can't conjure up their faces.

"You don't remember your family?"

"Sometimes I do... I'm not so sure other days. My memory isn't exactly top notch, if you know what I mean."

I push open the heavy-weighted back door, using all the energy my body can muster up. To my relief, Thom is already in the back room, sweeping flour off the floor.

"Hi, boss," he greets slyly as I walk in, barely glancing up at me. I shoot him an over-the-top eye roll, though I can't help smirking myself at the stupid nickname, when he beckons Peeta. "Hey, your girl is here!" He yells loudly. Too loudly to be packed with customers at the counter.

I take that to mean the daily rush has come and gone. Which would be very convenient, as it means I can present Peeta with my finding that much faster, without having to worry about his business—or our business, as he teasingly calls it—being held up.

I hear the sound of my boyfriend's quiet laughter from the front. The sound that I akin to my father's singing or my sister's squeal of delight. The last sound still alive that can make my heart do a flip.

But it dies out the second he peaks his blonde head into the back room. The moment his baby blues, the same color as both his parents', meet my silver ones and then trail upwards.

Almost as if remembering the gash in my head, I reach to my forehead, to ensure the makeshift cloth bandage is still in place.

"Katniss?" Peeta says, his eyes looking far more nervous than I anticipated. Which I can only take to mean the red liquid has seeped through the plain fabric. "Is that blood?"

I don't want him to focus too heavily on that fact though. Like I told Kanon, I've had much worse injuries in my life. Me and Peeta both have.

Just look at his prosthetic leg.

"Yes," I reply easily, before moving closer to him, pushing the glossy photograph towards him. "But that doesn't matter right now. What does matter is-"

"You are literally bleeding."

I sigh, feeling slightly perturbed now. "Peeta, look," I insist, thrusting the image of his parents towards him, waiting for it to take anchor.

And it does. It takes a beat longer than I expect, but it happens nonetheless. I watch silently as the image captives him, as the shiny photograph takes him back to a time when this exact location was the only home he'd ever known and this business was run by the two people inside the picture.

He touches the photo, as if to test it's realism, before looking up at me in disbelief. "Where did you find this?"

"The Justice Building today. Inside the boxes, with all the things lost in the bombing."

There's a long pause as Peeta process this. The silence makes me antsy, finding myself abruptly uncertain of what could be going through his mind.

Finally, he whispers softly, "I never thought I'd see this picture again."

And the awed, tender smile that spreads across his face swiftly encompasses me in its warmth.

And I suddenly don't even feel the gash in my head anymore.

Read The Rest On AO3

#everlark #thg #the hunger games #everlark fics #fanfic #everlark fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #play with me 🥰

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uhthor · 3 years ago

Text

i loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us || mind_boggling

for @prblyindenial <3

thank you for helping me birth this fic! this is unequivocally for you.

notes: a short stevebucky thing that happens just after the endgame battle. steve realises he must find bucky once the battle is over because after losing him so many times, he swears to never let him go again.

this is an anti steve's ending in endg*me event, everyone else go home!

summary: He didn’t know why he thought Bucky would be different. He figured it was fear of forgetting him. But Steve knew he could never forget Bucky, no matter how much time they spent apart. He was ingrained in his bones and wrapped around his heart like lovers were.

Steve didn’t believe in divine intervention, but it was nothing short of a miracle that Bucky continued coming back to him after all this time. Maybe Bucky loved him, too, and that was all the divinity they needed.

full piece under the cut but if you enjoyed it please give it a reblog and maybe a read/kudos/comment on ao3? hehe thank you

The Snap could be heard across the entire battlefield.

Steve felt his head turn like lightning, trying to identify where it came from, and more importantly, who did it. His eyes found Thanos, fist raised, and Steve pelted across the battlefield toward him as fast as he could.

As he reached Thanos, he saw the empty gauntlet and what Thanos was staring at, the source of the snap; Tony.

All around him, the Chitauri began fading into nothing. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, and he looked for his fellow teammates across the field – for the ones who’d walked through Strange’s portals before him. He saw T’Challa, Shuri, Wanda, Sam: all of them still standing.

Steve took a breath of relief when Thanos turned to dust in front of him, Thor coming up on his right hand side. He dropped Stormbreaker at their feet, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“We did it,” Steve mumbled, turning to Thor, whose eyes were only filled with terror.

“Stark,” He breathed, weakly pointing toward where Tony now lay. “He’s dying.”

They both stood in silence, watching Pepper, Rhodey and Peter Parker collapse in front of Tony. Thor gripped Steve’s arm tighter, and it shook Steve from a catatonia.

He sniffed, looking at Thor. “Is everyone okay?”

Thor shrugged, unable to speak. Steve watched as Bruce approached them both and placed a hand on Thor’s shoulder. He flinched slightly, turning to Bruce, and collapsing into him. Bruce just embraced him, his huge frame towering over Thor and his arms engulfing him.

Steve tried to ignore the pain pulsating from where Tony was dying, wanting to leave Pepper with him in his final moments, and he looked around the silent battlefield. Everywhere he could see people embracing one another in solemnity, T’Challa and Shuri holding onto one another in exhaustion, Clint helping Wanda to her feet, the two of them with their arms around each other supporting each other.

Watching the love pour out of his teammates in reunion was bittersweet; they’d lost people for this to happen. There were people who wouldn’t be coming back after the Snap of Bruce’s fingers. The absence ached in his muscles, and Steve felt empty as he stood alone.

Sam approached him, and before he could even speak, Steve felt tears gush into his throat at the absence of Bucky by Sam’s side.

“You okay, Cap?” Sam asked.

Steve’s eyes darted around quickly, “Where’s Bucky?”

Sam looked over his shoulder, “I don’t know, I lost him a while ago.”

“I have to find him,” Steve started to move, but Sam took his arm quickly.

“Let me,” He said, wings extending, pulling his goggles onto his head. “I can cover more ground quicker. Stay here.”

Steve felt his anxiety pulsing as Sam took off, and he watched him fly overhead and begin surveying the field. He continued looking around anxiously, watching for Bucky in the crowds of Asgardians, the Wakandans, the other Avengers. Every time someone moved, he thought he saw Bucky’s blue jacket, the light reflecting off his Vibranium arm. Just as he grew restless, Sam’s voice crackled over the comms.

“South west from your position, Steve.”

Leaving Thor and Bruce behind, Steve took off immediately. He ran through the crowds, dodging everyone he could whilst also scanning for Bucky. He looked skyward, trying to find where Sam had located him, and kept running toward him. Once Steve had passed a group of Asgardians that included an alien made of rocks, he saw Bucky standing amidst who Steve guessed were the newly reunited Guardians. He only recognised Rocket and Nebula.

As he laid eyes on Bucky, Steve’s breath hitched once again. He found himself stuck on the spot, letting the relief flood through his body. Bucky was okay. He was alive.

Almost as if he could feel him lingering, Bucky turned. When he spotted Steve, Bucky smiled, and that was what urged Steve forward.

He ran toward him, and Bucky met him halfway, the two of them throwing their arms around each other upon impact. After what must have been the entire five years apart from him, Steve felt himself relax in Bucky’s arms. His muscles no longer ached and he felt like he could actually breathe. Tears threatened to spill, but he forced himself to speak instead.

“Don’t go turning to dust on me again.”

Bucky laughed, and Steve thought he could hear tears in his voice. “Don’t try and fight an entire alien race by yourself ever again, dumb ass.”

Steve pulled away from him, still gripping Bucky’s arms in fear of him fading away if he didn’t. He couldn’t take him in fast enough; his face was still the same, his stubble, his hair. His smile lines still wilted in the same way and his eyes were still as blue as he remembered. He could drown in them.

He didn’t know why he thought Bucky would be different. He figured it was fear of forgetting him. But Steve knew he could never forget Bucky, no matter how much time they spent apart. He was ingrained in his bones and wrapped around his heart like lovers were.

“What happened?” Bucky asked.

“Thanos wiped out half of existence.” Steve answered, eyes falling from Bucky’s. “Took us five years to get you back.”

“Five years?” Bucky gaped.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe.” Steve replied.

Bucky shook his head with a sad smile. “I’m sorry I left you alone again.”

Steve frowned, “What? Why are you sorry? You didn’t—”

“See how stupid it sounds when you apologise?” Bucky interjected.

Steve’s frown fell into a smile, and he pulled Bucky toward him again. As they hugged, he squeezed his eyes shut to force himself to wake up. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. Anything. Bucky couldn’t be standing in front of him unharmed, unchained and undyingly his. It had taken 78 years to get to that point, and now it was finally his, Steve couldn’t believe it was real.

“I thought you were gone for good,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s shoulder. “I thought I’d lost you for real this time.”

After losing Bucky to war, to Hydra, to cryo, to Thanos, Steve knew this time he wasn’t going to let go. They’d surpassed their own endings, and the only one left was together.

Bucky only clutched onto him tighter. “Not without you.”

Steve had fought aliens. He’d survived things that should have killed him, things that he didn’t even know were humanly possible. Things that weren’t humanly possible. He had lived for over a century and grown in two different worlds, yet he still continued to be in awe of the universe and all it created. It was capable of anything yet it kept bringing him and Bucky back to each other.

Steve lived in a world of aliens, magic and now time travel. But the only thing he needed was the most human thing in all his life. It was right there in front of him. His life. It was Bucky.

Bucky began to pull away from him, but Steve gripped his jacket fiercely, keeping their faces inches from each other. He felt his cheeks flood crimson, and he licked his lips in anticipation. He could’ve sworn Bucky’s eyes watched his lips move when he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

Bucky swallowed, nodded. “It took you long enough to ask.”

Steve no longer suppressed his smile and pulled Bucky toward him, kissing him hungrily. Bucky kissed him back, and their lips moving together was the greatest feeling Steve had ever felt running through his veins.

Bucky cupped Steve’s face, and his stubble scratched Steve’s chin as they were pressed together. He far from minded. Steve’s heart pounded against Bucky’s chest, and he could feel Bucky’s pounding just as fast against his own. They were almost in sync. It was perfect, even if it took almost a century.

When they parted, Bucky placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders, Steve still clutching onto his jacket with white knuckles. He placed his forehead on Bucky’s, trying to catch his breath before he kissed him again. Bucky tried to speak but Steve didn’t let him. He stole as many kisses as he could; God knows he had waited long enough.

Bucky pulled away from him, panting. “Steve—”

“I know,” Steve answered, kissing him again. “You don’t have to say it.”

“I want to.” Bucky forced Steve to look at him, holding his face in his hands once again. “I love you. I need you to know that. I’m sorry I was a coward and never said it sooner because I’ve loved you all my life.”

Steve shook his head. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realise I loved you too. Because I did love you. I do love you. I always have, despite not knowing it. I love you, Bucky.”

Bucky could only smile. As people moved around them, they grew conscious of an audience and wrapped their arms around each other once again. Steve began to tremble, feeling his body giving up inside Bucky’s grip. The exhaustion was finally kicking in, and he felt unconsciousness calling him.

“Hey,” Bucky murmured into the crook of his neck, lifting him upward. He wrapped an arm around him, the cool of his Vibranium hand lifting his face up toward him. Steve caught Bucky’s eye and he smiled. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Steve only nodded, a smile fading from his lips. “I know.”

Bucky began walking him toward a medical bay. Despite Bucky holding him up, Steve took hold of Bucky’s free hand, the constant need to feel him next to him overpowering any kind of exhaustion. He held onto him tightly, to make sure he was still there. To make sure he wasn’t going to disappear again. To make sure he kept his promise - till the end of the line.

“So,” Bucky spoke up, a smirk on his face. “You can lift Thor’s hammer?”

Steve managed a laugh. “And you finally learned to put your hair up without Shuri’s help?”

“Whoa! That’s a cheap shot.”

“Then don’t mock the new ruler of New Asgard.”

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shih-coulda-had-it · 4 years ago

Text

casualty report

my entry for @queenangst‘s bnha gen contest! Link to AO3, but also contained below the Keep Reading.

WC: 2,454

Summary: Hospitals are supposed to be places of healing. Yet whenever Toshinori sits in one with Gran Torino, it seems that Toshinori is always clawing at his own heart. Spoilers up to C305.

The air is cold, sterile, and silent, save for the low hum of machinery and intermittent beeping of the heart monitor.

Yagi Toshinori enters Gran Torino’s assigned room in a similarly muted fashion, sliding the door open and shut with barely a click. He finds the chair where he left it; the old man hasn’t gotten any visitors besides him and the nurses. Like Midoriya, Torino teeters on the knife edge of survival, and like Midoriya’s classmates, Torino’s colleagues are swamped with work.

Toshinori has the privilege to visit them both. So he splits his time between his teacher-mentor-father and his student-successor-son and waits. They are similarly stubborn about clinging to life; Toshinori is confident they will wake.

Whether they will be happy about it…

As he sits, Gran Torino’s eyes crack open. His already labored breathing stutters, resulting in a full-body twitch that eventually culminates in a pained groan.

“Take it slow,” Toshinori advises.

“Stupid lesson from a stupid teacher,” Torino snaps. Toshinori looks away to focus on the bright yellow fabric bundled on top of a cabinet, neither laundered nor repaired. He’ll have to do it later.

The silence between them is tense. Surprisingly, it’s Torino who breaks it.

“Izuku?”

“Coma,” Toshinori says, fingers curling into fists. Before Torino can curse, Toshinori adds, “I think he’s talking to the predecessors of One for All.”

“Not something you could do,” the old man comments. He’s peering down at his injuries with a detached fascination: the maimed leg, the thick compress hiding beneath his bandages. Toshinori is uncomfortably reminded of his own injury, and of his own convalescence. He had recovered quickly, and privately, though he suspects that One for All had assisted with the process.

However lucky Torino is to have survived, Toshinori thinks the aftermath will be so much messier.

“It’s not,” he agrees.

“How can you tell?”

“A feeling,” says Toshinori. He forges on despite Gran Torino’s disbelieving eyebrows. “I think oshishou had a point, about the predecessors’ spirits living on in One for All. I’m not able to channel One for All anymore, but I think I still have some connection to the Quirk.”

“Ghosts in the machine,” says Torino dryly. He studies Toshinori. “Oh. You’re not joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this.”

Honestly, Toshinori had thought Torino would be ecstatic (as ecstatic as the old man ever got, as he swung between smugness, serenity, and seething fury) at the possibility of reconnecting with Shimura Nana. He had also quailed at the thought of telling Gran Torino that Toshinori’s own connection seemed to be a one-way thing.

And Toshinori doesn’t know how to tell Torino that he feels betrayed, in a way.

When he was researching the previous users of One for All, an alien-like urgency had pushed him past investigating to obsessing. As though a whisper had filtered through his head and said: what else, what more, why now?

Shinomori’s case. The hypothesis that Toshinori’s Quirkless heritage had protected him from the pitfalls of a stockpile Quirk.

The harsh intake of multiple people breathing in at once, even though Toshinori had been alone, with only stacks of heavily-redacted reports to keep him company. All of Toshinori’s devotion, and it had earned him nothing but sleepless nights and silent vigils.

Torino sighs then, heavy with resignation. And just like that, he moves on. “Shigaraki?”

“Escaped,” Toshinori reluctantly says. He doesn’t want to talk about the current situation of society and its failure to stabilize in the wake of so many terrible revelations and events. He really doesn’t want to talk about Tartarus. Except, it will be impossible to keep Torino in the dark about it forever. “Don’t have a heart attack on me, but—All for One’s back on the field.”

One heartbeat. Then two.

Something like forty years ago, Gran Torino and Toshinori had sat in a hospital room, numbed to the core by the very real confrontation and consequence of baiting All for One into the light. The superficial injuries belied the grief suffusing Toshinori’s body, and although he hadn’t recognized it at the time, the terror in Torino’s.

White-faced, Gran Torino had told Toshinori that they could not afford to stop moving.

Sleep. Wake up. Go to school. Your internship hours are going to be spent sparring with me.

For the rest of the year?

Until I’m goddamn satisfied.

It was a miracle they had survived the first week without killing each other. In retrospect, Toshinori could see the value in Torino’s decision to forgo the mourning period. Toshinori had still ended up sobbing on the ground, confessing to his father what he could not to his mother.

And of course, without dwelling on Toshinori’s admission, Gran Torino moved on to the next point of business.

“Cockroach,” Torino says through gritted teeth. The heart monitor stays impressively calm. “Third time’s the charm, then?”

“Torino-sensei, the third time was Kamino Ward. It’s safe to say the odds are against us.”

Toshinori’s bleak assessment earns him a narrowed glare, and it’s a sign of how exhausted and bitter Toshinori feels that he is unfazed. He can afford to be scared of Torino when Torino is walking of his own volition, cursing up a storm about the fact that he can no longer eat a whole box of microwaved taiyaki.

“Casualties?”

“Multiple civilians,” says Toshinori. “Multiple pro-heroes. None of the students, thank goodness.”

Torino stares at him. “There were no students at the hospital.”

“Many were… encouraged to participate in the mansion raid.” It still leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Terrible, yes, to see Eraserhead bandaged up yet again due to Toshinori’s failures, but it was even worse to see his students file back into U.A.’s dorms, eyes shadowed with something more than grief. Midnight’s death haunts them still.

The old man breathes.

“What else?”

“A loss of trust,” Toshinori says, leaning his elbows on his knees, fingers pressed together like a prayer. “Civilians want to protect themselves, and the remaining pro-heroes of Japan are stretched thin. Some died, and many are retiring.” He offers Torino a mirthless smile. “Yoroi Musha is out.”

“Twenty years too late,” Torino responds.

“You never liked him.”

“Gimmicky cowards with a chip on their shoulder shouldn’t be in this line of work.”

Well. Either Toshinori takes that as a personal insult, an unintentional dig, or Gran Torino’s acerbic sense of humor. He goes quiet anyway. Now is a good time as any for a lull in conversation to occur, but Toshinori doesn’t get long to contemplate his next move.

“What’s eating you up,” Torino demands flatly.

“Nothing.”

“Pull my other leg.”

“It’s nothing,” Toshinori stresses. “And if there was something, I wouldn’t want to talk about it.”

“Toshinori. When you bottle up your specific brand of guilt, it has a tendency to backfire on you spectacularly,” says Torino. “I’m not walking away for a long time, so get it off your chest right now while I’m wired to half a dozen machines.”

Toshinori interlocks his fingers.

“Toshinori.”

“The Public Safety Commission has been disbanded,” he tries. “Their headquarters were attacked the same time the raids occurred.”

“Unsurprising,” says Torino.

“I don’t think anyone could have anticipated a direct attack, Torino-sensei.”

“I’m not talking about the Commission. I’m talking about you. Deflecting.”

Hospitals are supposed to be places of healing. Yet whenever Toshinori sits in one with Gran Torino, it seems that Toshinori is always clawing at his own heart.

“Do I disappoint you?” Toshinori asks, resigned to hearing an answer he already knows, staring hard at his hands. He’s pushing the wrong side of his fifties, less grizzled and more gaunt, more of a beanpole and less of a pillar. It’s impossible to remember all the things he did right when all Toshinori can see is where he went wrong.

And even though Gran Torino looks so fragile, tiny and bedridden, bandaged and hooked up to more machines than Toshinori can count on one hand—he still has the strength to look ahead.

Toshinori didn’t learn that. He had thought he did, those six years ago when he survived the fight with All for One, because in spite of the grievous injury, All Might had forged on.

“You can be honest,” Toshinori says. “Just like in U.A.”

“We’re a long way from that time,” says Gran Torino. His expectant and unimpressed expression hasn’t changed.

“It was a yes or no question, Torino-sensei.”

“No, then.”

He says it so simply. Toshinori blinks. Torino tips his head to the side, watching with half-lidded eyes how Toshinori processes his answer. Except Toshinori cannot fathom when this change of perception happened, because just as recently as Kamino Ward, Toshinori had still been reduced to sitting on his ass, listening to Gran Torino’s instructions.

“You’ve done more than anyone should have asked of you,” Torino says. “And you did it well.”

“I overlooked so many problems,” Toshinori protests. “So many people didn’t feel safe.”

“Brat,” says Gran Torino fondly.

“Torino-sensei.”

“There’s something more than that. You’ve been dealing with that insecurity for decades, and you know as well as I do that even a Symbol of Peace can’t catch everything. What’s going on?” Torino is ruthless when he wants to make a point; Toshinori circles back to his original impulsive question and thinks—

“Midoriya-shonen,” says Toshinori in a soft voice. “He’s talking to the predecessors.”

“So you said.”

“And I couldn’t. I can’t, even now, even though I’m connected to One for All still.” From there, the words come spilling out. “Oshishou told me from the beginning that One for All had some kind of spiritual essence. She might not have said outright about the voices, but she hinted at it. That we could meet again, somehow. And all those years… forty years, Torino-sensei, and—and nothing. Not a word, not a vision.”

Midoriya’s crybaby genes must have bounced over the connection, because horrifically, Toshinori can feel his face contort and his eyes water. He hasn’t cried in front of Gran Torino in decades.

“Like I wasn’t worthy,” Toshinori concludes, choking on the last word.

Here is what Toshinori learned on his own, independent of Gran Torino’s teachings: don’t cry. Smile through the fear and the pain, and don’t cry.

Conveniently, Toshinori has forgotten that all those decades ago, Gran Torino never censured him for his tears. So it is now, that Toshinori feels the unfamiliar prickle and the cooling trails sliding down his face, and Gran Torino says nothing.

Until he does.

“You’re everything Shimura stopped hoping for. Did you know that?” Toshinori jerks his head up from its bowed position; he can hear oshishou saying in her wry tone, typical Torino. Can’t make eye contact when communicating an emotion. “I saw her through almost every big milestone in her life. Her pro-hero license, her marriage, her pregnancy. The loss of her husband, and then her son.”

“You didn’t try and stop her.”

“She knew best.” Torino’s grin is painful. “I believed that then, and I believe it now. Kotarou survived longer than he would’ve if he stayed in her custody, which was ultimately her goal. So Shimura was right on that, never mind what Kotarou did with his life after. And you… I told you already.”

“You know me,” Toshinori jokes. He recalls his rusty impression of Torino’s lecturing tone, perfected during those golden hours of patrol with oshishou. “‘It takes twice as long for me to tell you something, versus me beating the lesson into you once.’”

“Then listen,” says Torino. “When Shimura met you, she was still hurting from giving up Kotarou. She couldn’t stop being a hero, but she didn’t want to stop being a mother. And every day, the news cycle spoke of a crime wave, fueled by something bigger than the injustices of the world.

“I was enough to keep her from drowning in work. It wasn’t until she met you that she started smiling again. That she had a son again.”

Toshinori scrubs his eyes. “Really could’ve used this talk forty years ago,” he manages.

“I wasn’t this emotionally intelligent forty years ago.”

“If Hound Dog ever managed to sit us down for therapy, he’d diagnose us both as emotionally-stunted,” he tells Torino. “You probably perpetuated a family cycle, Torino-sensei.”

“One of us cries, and it isn’t me,” Torino shoots back waspishly.

“It’s Midoriya-shonen,” Toshinori agrees.

Torino’s laugh comes out as a wheeze, and Toshinori winces in sympathy. The exhaustion that comes out of crying begins to settle in; he hasn’t allowed himself to cry for a while. Not in front of the students, and not in front of his colleagues. Gran Torino is situated in that blurred zone of family and teacher and co-worker.

Gran Torino is tiring as well. The conversation’s taken a lot out of him, and it surely doesn’t help that he was treated to a hint of Toshinori’s resurfacing insecurities.

“You asked if you disappointed me,” the old man says quietly, hoarsely. “Didn’t I disappoint you?”

His throat sticks.

Torino smiles, wry. “I know,” he says.

“Torino-sensei,” Toshinori attempts, horrified at his slip. He should fix this. He has to make sure Gran Torino knows that the past is past, and that his efforts haven’t been wasted on an ungrateful child. As Toshinori opens his mouth to reassure Torino, an urgent flicker of something calls out to him.

His head jerks to the door. Outside, down the hallway, in another room—

“He’s waking?”

Toshinori looks back to Torino, distractedly saying, “Yes,” before he freezes. Gran Torino has propped himself up halfway, teeth gritted with the effort it takes. He has reached out and clumsily pressed his hand against Toshinori’s forehead, fingers dipping into his hair.

It feels like a benediction.

“I am,” Torino forces out, “so proud of you. I could not be prouder. You were worth it, do you hear me, Toshinori? You are, still.”

The moment doesn’t last forever. Whatever burst of adrenaline fuels Torino, it dwindles with emotional vulnerability. He pats the top of Toshinori’s head and slumps back into his pillow, looking gray with exhaustion.

For his part, Toshinori stares, wide-eyed, like he’s fourteen years old again, meeting Gran Torino for the first time.

“Go,” says Torino. “Izuku shouldn’t wake up alone. He should have his family with him.”

There is a weak grin pulling at Torino’s mouth, familiar in its toothiness. Toshinori gets to his feet. He’s unable to return the smile, because he is suddenly terrified that if he leaves this room, Torino will somehow find a way to escape the hospital, hole up in his apartment, and—and—

“He’ll need you too,” says Toshinori. “Get better soon, tou—Torino-sensei.”

Gran Torino closes his eyes, and Yagi Toshinori moves on.

#queenangst gen contest #bnha #torino sorahiko #gran torino #yagi toshinori #all might #shih.txt #/DIVES THROUGH THE FINISH LINE/ TOUCHDOWN #found family feels #except the found family won't/can't acknowledge it #this is a long overdue conversation i hope we get in canon

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notnctu · 4 years ago

Note

a jeno smut (agressive😳) with 61, 11, 50. enemies to lovers - high school au

thanks for requesting! i hope you like it, you can read it under the cut!!

-author doie ❀

p.s. soft reminder to everyone that requests are now closed. we apologize for the wait and are doing our best to finish them all! thank you for your patience :)

e2l!jeno x fem!reader prompt #11, #50, #61 - “I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.” & “You’re so god damn amazing.” & “Would you just shut up and kiss me already.” genre - smut (unprotected sex)

lee jeno, the popular attractive jock that had every person wrapped around his finger. who made the corrupt high school social hierarchy with athletes reining at the top anyways? jeno sits comfortably at the top of the food chain, while everyone gets chewed and spit back out. high school is going to be something you’d never want to look back on.

but your spitefulness doesn’t make you blind to the heavenly sculpted body lines of jeno. and if anything you felt for him that isn’t hatred, it is completely lust.

as you watch him dash across the open green field, his helmet protects his soft face, but the uniform hugs the thickness of his thighs. if it isn’t for your school spirited friend dragging you to a football game, this event would be no where on your agenda for a friday night.

“go jeno!” the cheerleaders jump at the bottom of the bleachers, with pompoms and their pretty matching uniforms. spins and twirls. claps and excitement. cheering in unison. the entire squad whipped for one player on a thirty person team. lee jeno.

the crowd goes wild when he lands the touchdown at the end of the field, earning the final winning point. the commotion overwhelms you and through the screams, you try to speak to your preoccupied friend, “can we leave now?”

“no y/n! we still have to join the players at the diner around the corner!” absolutely not.

you groan and cross your arms, “i’m just going to go home.”

“who’s going to take you?” she asks, completely immersed in the triumphant energy that surrounds the both of you.

“i’ll walk.” you say your goodbye while hurrying down the stairs. you kick at the dirt out of frustration and slight annoyance, a small cloud of dust circling at your shoes.

but when you look up, a sweat drenched jeno is running up to you with his helmet in his hands and the most taunting smile that has you walking off. “wait! y/n..” he calls and you really debate whether or not you’re willing to deal with him at the moment.

“bold of you to approach me.” you spin on your heels to face him and he shares the same annoyance at the encounter.

scoffing, “bold of you to actually show up to my game.” he bites back harder, a smirk growing at your silent figure.

“you did ask me to come.” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. and you feel a bit flattered that he even noticed you in the crowd of so many people.

he runs his free hand through his hair, pushing it out of his gorgeous face. “i’m joking. i know you didn’t come to just see me... right?” he lifts a suggestive eyebrow.

“oh because you’re so god damn amazing?” sarcasm lingers your tone, “don’t get your hopes up, jeno. unlike everyone else, i’m not brainwashed by your popularity complex. i had to be dragged out of my room to participate in such cliche high school sporting event.”

“okay, sweetheart..” the tinge of the nickname isn’t friendly, accompanied by an irritable smile through his teeth. “i need to go change, but is it too much to ask if you can meet me outside of the locker room?”

“it’s asking much more than i ever offered, which is nothing. why would i wait for you? nonetheless want to keep speaking to you?” his teammates are quickly rushing off the field, pushing at jeno’s shoulder playfully every time they passed by you two. and he’d only give a small smile in return.

“i think we really misunderstand each other..” he begins softly, “i just want to get to know you better.”

“make it quick.” you grumble. jeno’s face lights up, and his happiness puzzles you and makes you wonder why he actually cared to talk to anyone of lower status. he runs off to the boys’ locker room and you exhale heavily.

perhaps, you’ve never really given jeno a chance. he’s just always been in a bad light in your eyes, arrogance and pride? he never seemed like he cared about anyone other than his own status. and you never understood the hype around the school’s prized possession. and what made up your hatred for him was assumptions of his character... besides his random flirtatious comments, you avoided ever actually having a conversation with him.

when you see the rest of his teammates walking out of the locker room, changed and chatting among themselves about heading over to the diner, you walk over to the open door.

“jeno?” the locker room is empty, with very dim lighting. and you catch a glimpse of jeno’s bare muscular back, shorts hanging around his waist.

“has anyone ever told you not to freely walk into a boys’ locker room?” he chuckles and turns around, distinct lines across his abdomen from long hours of working out. jeno is extremely fit.

“i got lonely waiting outside.” you sit on the bench next to his bag. “you’re not going to the diner with everyone else?”

he shakes his head, pushing his things on the cement floor to sit right by your side. the heat of his skin brushes against your shoulder. “i know you’re not going, so there’s no point.”

you really couldn’t tell if he is being genuine, “when were you so obsessed with me?” you mockingly eyed him.

“when you became the only girl not obsessed with me.” he picks your chin up to face him and through the poor lighting, you see his seriousness blinking back at you. and he’s suddenly so close to you, feeling his hot breath pant on your lips and the drop in his gaze.

but he pulls away and begins cleaning up his football gear, what the fuck was that. “do you want to grab food somewhere else?” he asks nonchalantly, like he wasn’t about to kiss you several seconds ago.

“jeno, i’m suppose to hate you.” you stammer over your words, clenching the bench at the confusion that settled in your heart.

“why do you hate me?”

and you rack your brain with all the possibilities. “you walk around as if everyone is suppose to kiss your every step. you’re like the typical popular meathead.”

“you hate me because everyone loves me?” he laughs, “i guess it gets annoying when i’m all everyone talks about.”

“it is.. no offense.” you rub your arm sheepishly, but jeno doesn’t seem to take any hurt to your comments. instead, he’s still the go lucky happy boy that approached you off the field.

“i’m sorry then, i apologize on behalf of everyone’s obsession that it stopped us from getting to know each other.” jeno smiles kindly at you, “because i think you’re really worth getting to know.”

“we’ve barely ever talked.”

“but from those small interactions, i feel more than i would speaking to anyone else.” he grows a bit shy, rubbing the back of his neck out of habit.

it’s almost like jeno’s egotistic front faded away and you’re left with a shy high school boy. it’s so out of his regular character, so you wonder if this has always been the real him. underneath all the powerful glitz, is a shy jeno lies fiddling his fingers.

it’s your turn to lift his chin to face you. “maybe i’ve misjudged you.” you admit, your whisper tickling his bottom lip and you notice the tightness of his jaw.

inching closer and closer, he stops again and moments from pulling away, you hold his face in your hands. “is this okay with you?” he’s nice, remembering to check in on your comfort levels despite the heavy sexual tension that filled the locker room.

“would you just shut up and kiss me already?” without another second of hesitation, jeno leans in and presses his lips against yours. his hands travel up into your hair, down your neck to your waist.

“the first thing i learn about you...” he speaks in between each feverish kiss, his fingers holding the ends of your shirt. “you’re a great kisser.” he plants one on your cheek as he helps you out of your pants.

you lay down on the cold bench, your shirt is lifted to reveal your bra. he pulls down the fabric, your breast spill over and he sucks harshly at your nipples. your moan echos against the walls of the empty locker room and he slips a hand into your panties.

he rubs your wetness around your clit, dipping his finger into your hole. there isn’t enough time to dance around each other’s bodies, anyone could potentially walk in like you had before. you push at his bare chest, and slip off your underwear.

jeno follows, his cock springing up against his abs. he’s much thicker than you had anticipated, and you gulp at how good you’re about to feel. your legs wrap around waist as he rubs the tip of his dick up and down your pussy.

your back arches every time it hits at your sensitive bud. “fuck, i’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.”

jeno feels pride swell at his chest, “i’ve never wanted to fuck anyone this badly.” a small glint reflects in his dark eyes when he pushes into you. you muffle your scream into your forearm from the incredible stretch and the sudden intrusion.

jeno inserts him fully into you without mercy to you adjusting to his length. he pulls out, only to snap back in harshly. he grunts at the tightness of your walls around him, and it only makes him want more of you.

his grip on your waist steadies him as he fucks you into an oblivion. you’re a moaning mess every time you feel how good his hips roll into you. “fuck me like you fucking hate me, jeno.”

he smirks, “fucking the enemy? that’s bold of you.” jeno pulls you to sit up, his dick now hitting upright into you. your arms naturally wrap around his neck and your legs fall over his thighs.

his hands hold your ass, moving your hips up and down for you. “does this feel good, baby?” he whispers into your ear as he grinds more aggressively.

“fuck yes.” you breathe out. his tip kisses your sweet spot so harshly, enough for you to see stars. then he bottoms out as your legs start to shake around him.

“you want to cum, hhmm?” he hums, holding your hips in place as he rolls deeper and deeper into you. his grip on you is too strong, unable to move away from the pleasurable sensation, it’s inescapable.

“y-es.” you barely get out before every part of your lower half spasms out of control from the goodness. a soft moan erupts from your throat as your climax runs its course. jeno bites down on your shoulder lightly, muffling his low grunts.

despite your walls gripping onto him for your dear life, he gets a few rough thrusts to edge himself to his own orgasm. right when he’s about to explode, he pulls out and sprays across your tummy. his white liquid creates paint strokes across your skin.

you kiss his cheeks, leaving a small peck on his lips. through hot deep breaths, you both try to control your fast paced hearts. “so, did you still want to get food?” he chuckles.

“you still want to get to know me?” you quiz him, getting lost in his dreamy eyes.

“of course, i meant it. this..” he stands up to carry you to the bathroom. “..this is just the beginning of us.”

#nct smut #nct scenarios #jeno #jeno smut #lee jeno #nct #jeno scenarios #nct asks #nct requests

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adventuresinwonderlust · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Serious Inquiries Only: PART 2

*FOR PART 1 CLICK HERE or SEE MASTERLIST*

Pairing: dom! yoongi x reader ft. Hobi

Warnings: Talk of sexual favors, flirting, crack, humor, Solo Masturbation (M) (F).

Rating: 18 and over

Yoongi:

Yoongi sits at his computer browsing through his ‘SIO' page when a notification pops up. A new subscriber has signed up for a yearly membership but didn’t submit a request for their welcome gift. “Hmm, strange.” He clicks on the new subscriber’s user name ‘WildGoddess11'. He hums again. “OK wild Goddess, let’s get you set up shall we.” He shoots a private message to the user.

‘Hello WildGoddess11,

Welcome to my page. I hope you find everything you’re looking for here. I noticed however that you didn’t send in a request for your personal gift. Please be sure to choose from one of the two categories I work in and submit before midnight. I look forward to creating content for you.

All the best,

Gloss93'

Yoongi waits a moment to see if he gets a response. Just as he is about to sign off, his computer pings with a new message.

‘Hello Gloss93,

Thank you for the warm welcome. I imagine though, that you do this for all your customers. I know I was supposed to submit a request but honestly, I had a bit of an unconventional one. I was hoping you would accommodate me. I don’t normally surf these sites but you come highly recommended from a very close friend who says you are someone who is incredibly trustworthy. I’ll gladly pay extra. Please let me know if you’re interested. Thanks.

WildGoddess11'

Yoongi chuckles at the message. “Unconventional. What the hell does that mean?” He mumbles to himself. He hums again, sending a message back.

‘WildGoddess11,

I don’t normally take special request. I prefer to stay within the realm of what I normally offer. I am however, intrigued and willing to hear what you have to offer.

Gloss93’

He sits back in his chair, waiting, the anticipation killing him. He shakes his leg frantically, looking at his phone, then putting it down, then picking it up again. Finally, after what feels like forever, his notifications rings. He clicks it immediately.

‘Gloss,

I want, nay, need you to feed a darker side of me. Complete anonymity, 1000 dollars a month for sexual asks. Photos, videos, and phone calls. We don’t need to show our faces, since I can see that’s not your thing and honestly, I prefer that as well. I also ask that you not provide this service to any other clients. I can be a little jealous lol. Like I said you came highly recommended so I trust that we can work together. It won’t change my subscribing to your page if you say no. I understand if this isn’t for you. So, if you do say no, I am down to just submit a normal request. Let me know if you need time to think it over. Thanks.

WildGoddess'

Yoongi’s eyes widen as he reads and re-reads the message in front of him. He doesn’t know how to respond. He has never wanted to delve into this type of thing. Feeling confused, he picks up his phone and calls Hobi. “Hey, I need your advice.” “Sure. What’s up?” “I got a new subscriber today and they are making an unconventional request and I don’t know what to do because I mean, I’m intrigued. No one has ever come to me with something like this before.” “What was the request?” “Sexual asks. 1000 bucks a month.” “Get the fuck out of here! Are you serious? I didn’t think... I mean… I… that’s nuts!” Yoongi’s brow furrows. “Hobi, something I should know? Did you give out my code?” “Uh, no, it’s just that’s a lot of money, I was taken aback. You should just do it.” Yoongi sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t want to get caught up in this type of shit.” “Look, you wouldn’t have called me if you weren’t thinking about it already. Just trust me, you won’t regret this.” Yoongi grunts in frustration. “I better not.” “I’m excited for you.” Yoongi chuckles at Hobi’s comment. “What does that mean Hobi?” “Uh…. nothing…. just that it’s cool you know. 1000 bucks, I don’t even make that much!” Yoongi decides not to question further, instead thinking about Y/N. “Hey, how did the gift go over with Y/N?” “Aw man, she thought it was a prank from me. She freaked! Then she comes out of her room wearing it! Anyway, great choice because she looks great in it.” “She put them on for you?!? What the fuck?” Yoongi whines. “Not for me. In spite of me. Anyway, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” “Yeah alright.” Yoongi hangs up and types a response. “Here goes nothing.”

Y/N:

Your computer pings with a notification and you jump out of your bed and to your computer. It’s finally a response from Gloss.

‘WildGoddess11,

Let’s do this as a one-month trial period. Like I said before I don’t like to do this type of thing but I have to admit you are the first person to really pique my interest. I’ll allow you to submit me a special request and I’ll send it back to you via private messaging. I encourage you to review some of my past videos, perhaps it’ll motivate you. Happy hunting.

Gloss93'

You squeal, excited that he accepted your request. You had already been looking over his page, making yourself horny watching his hand kink videos and ASMR. He was hot and you had never even seen his face. You had already known exactly what you wanted to ask for. You bite you lip, typing your request.

‘Gloss,

Now that we are nice and established, let’s move past the niceties. I would like to request a dual hand kink/ASMR of you masturbating, I want to hear you moan my name while watching you grasp your sheets for me. Please send soon. My greedy little cunt can hardly contain herself. Also, please send me your information so I may transfer your extra funds. Happy stroking.

WildGoddess'

You bite your lip, excited to see what he has in store for you. “Y/N, I ordered Chinese. You hungry?” Hobi calls to you from behind the door. “Coming.” You respond, closing your laptop and walking out to have dinner with Hobi. “So, did you use that code I gave you?” Hobi ask. “Uh, yeah actually I did.” Hobi’s brows shoot up. “And, how did it go?” “I don’t know what you mean. It’s pretty basic honestly, although not having to pay the yearly membership frees up my funds. Who is this guy anyway? Why do I feel like you’re up to something?” Hobi shrugs. “No one special. Someone I know from the site. Trust that I always have your best interest in mind.” You nod. “Well, I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.” You inform him. He smiles wide, shoving food in his mouth. Your phone vibrates and you look to see a notification from ‘SIO'. You hop in excitement and click it to see a message from Gloss.

‘WildGoddess,

I think that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever read. I’m hard just imagining what your greedy little cunt looks like. You can send me money to my PayMo account, same username, Gloss93. I look forward to working with you. Look for me in your inbox soon enough. Goodnight.

Gloss'

“Good news?” Hobi wiggles his brows at you. “Shut up Hobi. Why don’t you explain to me why you bought that lingerie?” Hobi chews quickly. “Woah, woah, woah. That wasn’t me. I am not your secret admirer ok, I actually voted against you getting that gift.” Your eyes pop open. “Yoongi, that piece of shit!” “What,” Hobi chuckles nervously, “No, who said anything about Yoongi. I didn’t say anything about Yoongi.” Hobi turns pale, eating quickly. “You know Hoseok, you’re a terrible liar. I’m going to kill your friend.” “Come on Y/N, he really likes you. He may be a little, I don’t know, bad, with his approach but he has the best intentions. Give him a chance.” You roll your eyes. You did have a huge crush on him but giving in now would be bad. You just weren’t ready. “Hey, since you’re now a part of ‘SIO’ you wanna come to the annual meet and greet bash they throw?” “Hell no. Isn’t that just some orgy fest?” Hobi laughs loudly. “Well, it can be don’t get me wrong but it’s more so to gain more subscribers and get to know creators you already follow.” “Will Gloss be there? Like does he go?” Hobi’s eyes light up. “Gosh Y/N, you’ve only been subscribed an hour and already you’re addicted huh? He has that effect on people. It’s his voice, I think. Unfortunately, he doesn’t go to any events, he likes anonymity.” You pout a bit. “Well, then, no. I’m good thanks.” “Suit yourself.” You both finish dinner, helping each other clean up. You head off to your room, your phone vibrating. You look to see a notification from ‘SIO’, you plop onto your bed, hands shaking as you open the message.

‘WildGoddess,

This is my first time doing this so I hope it’s good. I must admit I rather enjoyed myself. I hope you will too. Again, welcome to my page. I look forward to working with you. Talk soon.

Gloss’

You grab your headphones, plug them into your phone, and click on the video attached to the note. The camera is pointed at what you imagine is his bed. The sheets are a crisp white. You swallow, your eyes frantically scanning your phone screen when his hand suddenly appears, gliding up the sheet, followed by strained sigh. You feel yourself strain a bit, trying to hear every little thing. Soon, you can hear the sounds of his stroking, the lurid fapping filling your ears, followed by his soft pants. The fingers on his left hand spread wide across the sheet. “Fuck, this feels so good.” You moan at the deep silky sound of his voice filling your right ear. He chuckles into the left ear and you feel a chill travel down your spine causing your back to arch. You focus heavily on the wet sounds filling his room and your ears. He’s stroking so fast now, his breath quickening, pants becoming more desperate. He is sure to move between mics, stimulating both of your ears.

You don’t know when but your hand has made its way into your panties and you whimper touching your swollen bud. “God, I hope you’re touching yourself,” He soon says into your left ear, “filling your tight little cunt up, pretending it’s me. I bet your pussy is so wet right now.” He sniffs into the right ear and you moan loudly into your room. “I bet that cunt smell delicious.” “Fuck!” You cry out, shoving two fingers into your clenching core. You begin to thrust in and out of yourself in conjunction with the delicious sounds of his stroking. He growls into your left ear. “I’m going to cum soon.” Moving to the right ear. “Is that what my greedy WildGoddess wants, my hot cum all over her?” “Yes, yes,” You pant, swirling circles around your bud before returning to your sopping hole, “Please come for me Gloss, please.” You watch as he grips the sheets hard, his veins bulging wildly from the top of his fist. His breath quickens and a relieved groan escapes his throat “Fuuuuuck!” He moans. His climax shooting from off camera onto his clenched fist. The sight causing your cunt to seize wildly around your fingers, your orgasm hits you in a hard crash. You cry his name into the room, your eyes tightly shut, only white bubbles floating in your vision. You soon open your eyes, coming down from your high, the sounds of him giggling gorgeously into the right mic. You look at your phone to see him release his messy fist from around his sheet. “Till next time my WildGoddess.” He declares, shutting the camera off.

Yoongi:

Yoongi rubs his eyes, exhausted from staying up late, hoping to hear from his “WildGoddess” about his video. She never replied, leaving him stuck in his own head all night, tossing and turning. “ICED AMERICANO.” The Barista shouts. Yoongi walks over grabbing his drink with a nod and heads over towards campus kicking himself for agreeing to meet Hobi this early. “Wow! You look like shit.” “Thanks, Hoseok. Not all of us can be a ray of sunshine like you.” “How was last night?” Hobi inquires, wiggling his brows. Yoongi shrugs. “What are you talking about?” “Oh, uh, nothing. Just seeing what you were up to.” Yoongi chuckles, sipping from his drink. “Nothing, I stood up all night, thinking about that goddamn subscriber. She never responded to her video.” Hobi looks at Yoongi with wide eyes. “You sent her a video?” “Yeah, like I do all my subscribers. A welcome video but hers was a little more tailor made if you will. Anyway, she never responded if she liked it or not. I guess I shouldn’t care. She would’ve complained if she didn’t like it.” Hobi nods, then tilts his head, then shrugs. “She liked it.” Yoongi eyes him suspiciously. “Yeah, I guess. Like they say, no news is good news.” “Hey, are you going to go to the Annual meet and greet for ‘SIO' this year.” Hobi asks. Yoongi scoff. “No, I never go to that shit.” “Well, maybe now that you got this mysterious stranger, you know, you would be more interested in it.” “No, we are keeping things anonymous. Just like I like it.” Yoongi clips.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m going to be going this year.” “You go every year Hoseok, nothing has changed.” Yoongi says. “So, did you happen to take any pictures of Y/N in her gift?” Yoongi asks now. Hobi laughs heartily. “I was in shock at how amazing she looked to be honest. I mean, her ass, AMAZING!” Hobi shakes his head. Yoongi groans, jealous that he wasn’t there to witness her in all her glory. “Why didn’t you drag her along with you today to collect your schedules and pay your school tab off.” “Honestly I don’t know how I can face her after last night.” Yoongi’s ears perk up. “Why? What happened?” Hobi freezes in place, “Uh because of the lingerie thing of course. Why? What did you think?” Yoongi licks his lips, watching Hobi shuffle into the office of the main building. “Hobi, you’re a terrible liar. Did something happen?” “No, of course not. Honestly, it was that. I’ve never seen her so, uh, nude. Yeah, that’s it.” He walks to the secretary at the front desk and asks to pays his student fees. “Cash please and may I have a receipt?” “Sure thing.” She takes his money and prints him a receipt. “Where to now? Breakfast?” Hobi turns to face Yoongi. “How about your place?” He drawls. Hobi chuckles nervously but nods.

Y/N:

You were a panting mess after your third time getting off to the video Gloss sent you. You had been happy when you heard Hobi leave this morning, knowing you could be as loud as you wanted to be. Now, however, you dropped down on your side unable to moved, your battered pussy throbbing, finally allowing your eyes to flutter shut. You feel the edge of your bed shift and you moan unhappily. “You look spent, one would assume you had company last night.” Your eyes pop open to find Yoongi smirking at you from the foot of your bed. You jump up suddenly, tucking your phone and headphones away. “What the fuck are you doing in my room Yoongi?” You seethe, watching him as he eyeballs everything in his surroundings.

“I brought you lunch. Thought you might be hungry.” “OK well, you don’t need to be in here for that so please go.” You wave him off. He smiles seductively, looking at your exposed legs, then up your oversized shirt to your face. “Do you always wear a garter to sleep?” He tilts his head to the side, biting his lip. You look down and quickly tuck the belt under your shirt. “Is that your business Min Yoongi?” He shrugs, dropping his eyes to the ground, bending forward with a suck of his teeth. “They look better with these on.” He whispers, licking his lips. You yank your thong from his fingers, and shove him away. He chuckles, getting up now and moving towards the door. “Has anyone ever told you that you are the most beautiful woman in the world?” “Get the fuck out Yoongi!! HOBI! Come get your friend.” He pouts at you and walks out of your room. You release a sigh, moaning into your hand as you feel your juices coat your cunt. “Fucking Min Yoongi.” You whisper to yourself.

Yoongi:

Yoongi hits refresh for what feels like a hundred times on his ‘SIO' account and nothing. He releases a sigh, whining when Hobi comes around and punches him in the arm. “What was that for?” “Why do you insist on torturing her?” Yoongi can’t help but smile. “She was still wearing the lingerie, well some of it anyhow. Did she have someone over last night? She looked…I don’t know. Satisfied.” Hobi scoffs and shakes his head nervously. “She hasn’t been with someone in a long time. Now please let’s eat.” “I mean you’d tell me, right? If I was wasting my time?” “Oh, so are we now admitting that we have feelings for her and are actively pursuing her?” Hobi snips. Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve always said I had feelings for her. I just never thought I was her type. Not being the point, I don’t want to get involved if she’s involved already.” Hobi shakes his head again. “She’s not. I’d tell you.”

Yoongi sighs in relief, standing straight when Y/N exits her room to join them. She is fully dressed now causing Yoongi to chuckle. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me you know. I am all for oversized shirts and no panties.” Yoongi comments. She flips him the bird and walks over to fridge for a beverage. She joins them at the table and they begin to dig into the food. Yoongi watches as Y/N pulls out her phone, stretching a bit as she types, trying to see who she could be texting. “Did you have company last night?” Yoongi inquires. She looks up from her phone at him and smirks. “And what if I did Yoongi?” He shrugs. “Then they are lucky.” She simply laughs but Yoongi feels the sting of jealousy at the thought. He watches as she looks down at her phone. “He would’ve had to crawl up the side of the building because I was right in the living room the whole night.” Hobi interjects. Yoongi’s phone buzzes suddenly and he pulls it out of his pocket. He sits up straight, seeing a notification from SIO.

‘Gloss,

My god! That may have been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Is it possible for me to think you are so fucking hot without me ever having seen your face? You may or may not have me sprung. I mean, if beating this pussy 3 times can be considered sprung…. what do you think? Sprung off you?

WildGoddess.’

Yoongi chuckles in shock at the message, looking up suddenly at Y/N. She munches away at her lunch and soon realization hits Yoongi. His heart races and he takes to writing a response to confirm his theory.

WildGoddess,

3 times huh? Someone must be spent today. I’m honored. You should be too; They say third time is the charm. I look forward to making all your filthy dreams come true. Sprung on you too?

Gloss.

Yoongi hits send, waiting anxiously. Suddenly, Y/N’s phone buzzes and he feels the bile rise in his stomach. He shoots a look at Hobi who locks eyes with him in confusion. Yoongi gives him an angered look and Hobi’s face drops. Yoongi turns to face Y/N when he hears her giggle. “Thanks for lunch guys. I gotta go.” She walks off to her room staring at her phone. Once out of ear shot, Yoongi slams his fist on the table making Hobi jump. “What did you do Hoseok?” “I…. I don’t know what you mean?” “Don’t fuck with me. Is it her? The new user? Is it Y/N?” Hobi drops his fork, looking to her bedroom to ensure the door is closed. “She needed a distraction Yoongi.” Yoongi growls at Hobi’s confirmation, dropping his head in his hands. “I didn’t want to connect with her this way. We have to tell her.” Yoongi gets up and walks towards her room. “No, no, no,” Hobi almost shrieks, yanking Yoongi back to the table, “Look you said you like her. She likes you. She’s just scared ok. This is the perfect opportunity for the two of you to get to know one another without any pressure involved.” “No, only the pressure of a 1000-dollar payment every month.” “Ok, I didn’t anticipate that. Just don’t accept the money. She doesn’t know it’s you she’s talking to. Take her on some dates, then spill the beans but don’t do it now. She’ll kill us both!” “The longer I wait the worse this is Hobi. It’s betraying her trust.” “No, no. Look you’re getting caught up on semantics. I know her best ok. It’s better if she slowly comes out of her shell and this is the perfect way to do that. Trust me. I know what I am doing.” “If this goes south Hobi and believe me it will. I’m throwing you under the bus, better yet, driving it over you.” Yoongi declares in a huff, storming out of the apartment before he changes his mind.

#bts smut #suga x reader #suga x you #yoongi smut

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shinglescat · 3 years ago

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ooga booga

Previous stories here. Kanarielle’s character page here.

It’s been quite a few months already since the power transit already, and to everyone’s surprise Esmir not only did not mind it at all, she even welcomed the change with her arms wide open. She did protest once, however, at the start of it all, when her grandchildren expressed their demands for her - the old lady surely expected her grandson to take the reign just out of spite, not the fragile granddaughter; she voiced her concern, but they did not listen. Still, she was suspiciously okay with the turn of the events, and Mark guessed it was because of more of the available free time in her schedule for… debauchery and other side projects. Other than that, Esmir’s been insisting on them both showing off at a soiree, just to keep the nobility talking about them, sort of a power display, and Livaen planned everything out from there herself as the new head of the family, as the new Lady Sorano.

It wasn’t in his plans to go alone, yet the circumstances thought differently. Livaen managed to talk him into this, promising an easy evening and a “free-to-go” card after. As soon as he opened his mouth to agree on the occasion, his luck decided to go south - later the same evening Aspen had to leave him due to some “unforeseen events” in a complete urgency. Mark knew better than to ask, as it was near impossible to get anything out of the man, so he was left on his own until he met with an old friend of his again. The luck wasn’t on his side this time either; he had to attend the soiree alone anyways, even though he and his friend arrived together and even agreed on playing out a couple for the public to spare the elf from unwanted attention and unsolicited affection; the girl had to take care of a sudden matter at hand, so he left her in the Void to her own devices and proceeded with the gathering alone.

- Hope it went well, - she greeted him as soon as he showed up, notes of worry in her voice. She was modestly sitting on his bed, in one of the smaller residences of the family, watching him as he got upstairs, walked up to the bed and crashed into the sheets with his face down right beside her. Kana patted him on the back lightly, feeling of guilt making her cheeks turn red for leaving him like this alone, - I’m sorry you had to be there on your own tonight, - she quietly apologized, - Won’t happen again.

- It’s okay, don’t sweat it, - he raised his hand to stop her from saying anything else, mumbling into the bed, eyes closed, - Could’ve figured the luck wasn’t on my side, - he snickered, drained and overwhelmed with the spotlight he had to endure with no way for him to retreat. So much for the promised easy evening.

Kanarielle rolled her eyes.

- Man, if you aren’t a diva, - she reached his head with her hand, her nails scratching the scalp. The elf tensed up a bit, but then relaxed into the feeling, pleasure from the touch tingling at the nape of his neck, - You can complain now, please do begin.

Mark sighed loudly.

- Nothing to complain, - he took a moment to breathe in and out, to calm down the heart that was beating way too fast in his chest, - It was a ginormous lie. She promised an easy evening, but… I dunno, if that’s an easy evening for her, I’m dreading of the harder ones, - he turned on the spot, his back against the bed sheets, facing the elf girl, - There was a woman… Has to be from Livaen’s retinue. Very insistent and utterly… handsy, kept touching me the whole evening, - Mark groaned, remembering the altmer lady - Niluer, the touch of her fingers still lingering on his skin, her nails on his jaw as she tried to get his attention, - And I’m not mentioning the other ones that were eyeing me like I’m a piece of a fresh delectable meat or something. Felt like they were about to devour me alive.

The girl raised her eyebrow, chuckling.

- Oh boy, are they in for a surprise tomorrow, - she said, whispering, - when I’ll be the only one groping your ass in public… - Kana cheerfully slapped her knees in anticipation, nudging him with her elbow, obviously joking. Mark had none of that; he tried to push her away, grunting disapprovingly at the mental image, - Alright, alright, no groping, - she gently stroked his shoulder, adding in a small voice, - Though you are the piece of a fresh delectable meat, - her hands went up into his hair, fingers combing through it, - Thought no one’s gonna notice you return into the family? You are one helluva promising bachelor, – he whined, attempting once more to shove her off the bed. She slapped his tummy lightly in retaliation, - Oh, and let’s not forget your grandma! Anyone in their right mind would want to bask in her power, - Mark tried to say something, but she covered his mouth with a palm of her hand before he would voice anything, - They gon be fighting for your body parts, heart and hands, all that. BUT!, they are the least of your problems.

- And the big problems? – Mark forcefully removed the hand off his mouth, snorting and rolling his eyes.

This time she casually smacked him on his forehead, clap rather loud than painful, the sound muffled by cushions and furniture.

- You have a huge profit sign on your forehead, - Kana pointed her index finger right in between his brows, pressing it into the skin rather painfully, - that’s what I’m saying; they will use and do anything to get to you. And since Livaen is… you know, I’m not talking about her even here, this seems to summon her out of thin air – this makes you a better target.

- Ugh, don’t lecture me, - he brushed off her warning, knocking the hand away from the face, - Like I don’t know it, there are always the people who would suck a dick or two to get some benefits, - Mark looked at her, then shifted his gaze at the window. He tried to ignore the thought, dismiss it as if it was of no concern, tried to act tough, but his mind still lingered on the concept. With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes, set on steering the conversation away from him and the uncomfortable subject, - Was it the same in the Sanctuary? For you?

Kana shifted on the bed inelegantly, her entire spine stiffening up at the mention of the place. She looked nowhere.

- No, not really, no, - she paused, reminiscing her own family, or rather those she used to call like that, - We’re far from nobility you saw there, though as far as I remember, - she hummed, biting her lip, memories resurfacing again after years of oblivion, - Mandil mentioned Bellaniel being a higher up member of the Falmeri society before the fall of the Snow Prince. We were more like a cult, I think, worshipping our blood and condemning the men, - Kanarielle snickered, - Imagine a club for old and bitter edgy elves – that’s us! It was similar for Ryl tho – Bellani intended on finding a party for her once she’s of age, marry her off to someone of their people, so they would “continue to carry on the legacy”, whatever that means, “of the last Snow Elves”, secluded in their own little world, of course, - something stirred inside her, and she paused, - Fuck, she’s probably married already, gotta have a kid, - her guts twisted unpleasantly, entire insides doing somersaults at once, a wave of nausea going up her throat. She tried to will it go away, but the awful feeling didn’t fade, - It’s been years since I last saw her. We were sixteen when I ran away, Mark, and Rylnir already had suitors courting her by that age, sucking up to Bellani, - the girl gasped for air loudly, as if suffocating, - They probably didn’t think of her anything but a hole in a piece of meat on the legs. We were just children, for fuck’s sake, but our fates were already decided for us.

Mark sat up straight.

- What about you? – he asked carefully, feeling uneasy, anxious of what she’s about to say, the memories likely distressing her.

- Dunno if I had it better, - she shrugged, leaning on his shoulder and hiding her face in the crook of his neck, - Ryl’s to become the next Matriarch once Bellaniel’s dead, and I was set to become the guardian to the realm. Bellani did everything to indoctrinate me, all that inspirational religious bullshit, and it honestly worked – I was bitter at men, at what they had done to us, - Mark hugged her by her shoulders, holding her tight against his side, feeling a faint shiver and a frequent, fast heartbeat, so strong it was reflecting in his own body, almost deafening. She was tense, her entire body stiff, ready to fight, - She played the “you’re the last of your kind” card, and I was dumb enough to fall to that. She poisoned me with hate, - the girl pulled back, looking into the elf’s eyes.

- You hate her too, - he whispered, cringing on the pain in his forearm, as she clung to it like to a lifeline, - No… You are afraid of her.

She sighed, releasing the arm from her grip, settling back on his shoulder. The fury, the anger she felt died out in a blink of an eye, replaced with an empty cold calm.

- I am, - her voice tranquil, - I used to hate her, now I’m just scared. She did everything to turn me into a willing vessel for Meridia, - she straightened her arm, reaching out into the air, green sparks swirling under her palm, - I was to become a purified, think you’re familiar what that means. She always talked about caring of all meri, but was only interested in the survival of her own kind, didn’t give a shit about anyone else. Leo was the last adult ayleid in the realm, and I was the only child of my “untimely deceased” ayleid parents. Isn’t it weird? – she glanced at him, puzzled, - Guess she found it poetic.

Mark lowered them both onto the bed, still holding her in a hug, gently stroking her arm. Meridia again, huh, with a quest for an army of brain dead glowing vegetables.

- How did you escape?

- No clue, Mark, I swear. I was sitting in my chambers, talking to Mandil, then I blackout and later find myself swimming through a cave with a thing chasing me. Was scared shitless, but managed to get out, ended up at the western shore of Ilinalta, - she rose up above him, pointing at her silver eyes, - You know, I used to have blue eyes, but I guess she or… they tried to punish me for leaving, tried to make me blind. I thought I’m done for, but Jack found me, did some magic, restored my sight, - her voice sounded much more serene than a few minutes before, heartbeat no longer audible, - A few years later Bellani tried to bring me back, affecting me through dreams. Almost succeeded, too, but Jack intervened, pierced her through in one of the nightmares and sundered the connection to the Sanctuary. Hadn’t had them since.

- Shit, Rie, that’s….

- Now that’s the name I hadn’t heard in a while, - she laughed hopelessly, interrupting Mark before he would express his condolences, still towering above him. She looked sad, though the weak smile on her face tried to say something else, - Jack used to call me that, - the girl closed her eyes dreamy, as if she heard him call her again.

- What happened to him? You were so inseparable, - the elf inquired, pulling her back onto the bed.

- Yeah, were, but he grew distant, and I had to leave him, all that bubbly stuff, - she turned on her side, her head resting on Mark’s chest, - I loved him, otherwise I’d leave him sooner. It was hard to let go, but it was for the best. Him growing distant helped to sever the bond.

- Did he love you though? – Mark asked into the air, gently stroking her arm, eyes growing weary, fatigue steadily putting him to sleep.

- Don’t know. I think he was just attached, nothing more, we were never meant to be, - she laughed humorlessly, - He saved me though, and I’m grateful for it, would never make it to the adulthood without him. Would be lying if I said I don’t miss him sometimes too. He was my first real friend anyways, was foolish of me to fall for him, - Kanarielle paused, thinking about something for a moment, - But I have Scott now… Actually, - she rose up, looking at him as another thought crawled into her head, - Do you think there could be something between you and I if the circumstances were different?...

Mark gazed outside, genuinely thinking about her question for a good minute or two. He couldn’t tell if he liked her appearance or not, as it was the foremost to judge a potential partner, he never gave it much thought in this regard, and found himself unable to… check her out, no matter how hard he tried to do so. Then he tried thinking about the other girl he knew, tried to compare them – Braenn was one example, but something in his own head prevented him from doing so. He thought of Meltem – yes, that woman was the best of them all; he thought of Livaen’s Nilufer – the woman was quite alright in the looks department; but then he went back to Kana, then mother, then Visenya, and the block returned. As far as the personality went… he burst into laughter, giving the girl funny looks: they would be like an unconfined wild fire together in the middle of a field of a dead dry grass in winter, self-combusted from a rogue zombie-flame under the ground, with someone dumping the fuel to keep them roaring. He didn’t like her at first, she seemed to be too haughty; he guessed she didn’t like him at first either, must have been something about him as well. As the time went by, he figured her being too proud of herself was a defense mechanism, and as they grew closer he discovered a whole new side to her; it probably was the same with her opinion of him, otherwise they would never make it to good friends able to share some darkest, and dumbest, secrets.

- Honestly? – he looked at her, a single tear dancing in the corner of his eye, making the image blurry. She nodded, - Don’t think so. We’re too much alike, and that’s the recipe for a disaster, - the elf girl smirked, approvingly patting him on his chest.

- True, you were really annoying back in the days, - Mark raised his brow at that, looking playfully offended, - And the fake beard of yours?

- Ugh, - he groaned, smiling, - Remember yourself, you thought you are the all mighty ayleid, and it was in your destiny to make the world bow before you, you wanted to conquer the ruby throne, - the elf gestured wildly with his hands, making the girl pinch the skin on his sides and poke him somewhere under his rib.

- Oh, oh! Remember that huge eyeliner you had? Why did you paint it like that? Also, glad you dropped it, - she finger gunned at him.

- Meltem used to paint it, - he explained, - Helped with… identity at the time. She came up with the idea, really boosted my self-esteem. Can’t do it myself though, hands aren’t as steady, - Mark grunted, - Asked Aspen to help me put it on once Meltem left with Livaen, but he said I’m fine as I am and hid the pencil somewhere, still haven’t found it, - Kanarielle wheezed, giving thumbs up to the absent man for the idea; she was glad he made him ditch that horrendous face paint. They laughed for a little longer, remembering the vices and virtues of each other; it was a good distraction from the talk they had before, yet the thoughts in Mark’s head like cockroaches kept racing and bringing him back to the delicate subject, replacing the cheerful smile with a frown, - Shit, - he rubbed his eyes again, prompting Kana to yank his hand away from his face, - Shit, I didn’t know. You never told me the whole story.

- If that is of any comfort, I had no idea either, - she hugged him across his chest, - That is… until you brought me back yesterday. The Void is so different from what I remember, - Kana made a quiet laugh, - Catherine kept me from going out with you, had to tell this to me; couldn’t join you after the revelation, needed to process this through first, - it made him rise on his elbow, looking at the ayleid with eyes wide open. She knew Catherine? Or did she introduce herself while he was gone? - Don’t be so surprised now, - she rolled her eyes, pushing him back into the bed sheets, - I lived in a daedric realm for more than half of my life, don’t you think I know how to communicate with the entities? - Kanarielle giggled, adding in a low voice, - It must be awkward to have her watching over you all the time, especially during the..., - she hummed, - frisky moments, - red in the elf’s face started showing, making her add, - I missed the girly gossips.

- Oh my god, why, - Mark whined, hiding his face behind the palms of his hands, embarrassed, blood rushing to his head, turning him red, - Why you have to ruin everything.

- Well, that was intentionally awkward, - she grinned at him, pretty happy with her achievement, - Now let’s talk about you instead. How were you?

Mark groaned, still red as a pomegranate, but gladly changing the funny subject nevertheless.

- She prolly told you how I was as well, - he couldn’t help but reply in an annoyed and sarcastic tone, and she smacked him across his forehead for that, - Stop hitting me! – the elf grabbed her forearm before she’d descend another blow upon him, throwing daggers at her with his eyes, - I’d probably be dead as well, alright? Not brain dead like you or Cath, just dead-dead in my case, - he scratched the bridge of his nose, - Father told us, hadn’t I met Aspen, I’d be floating among the pillars with my throat slit open, no biggie, and you’d probably be the first one to find me, - he fell silent for a second, deciding to reroute the conversation one more time, - You have to teach me later how to interact with the whole place. But only basics, nothing in-depth – wanna leave the reigns in Cath’s hands.

- Sure thing, - she replied, readjusting herself on Mark’s chest, putting a hand under her head and enjoying the silence, - Don’t wanna turn into your daddy, do you? – it was Mark’s turn this time to smack her lightly on her back, - Ouch. That hurts, - the girl glanced at him, insulted. She wanted to make a comeback, but the elf already had his eyes closed, breathing quietly, chest calmly rising up and going down, exhaustion finally getting to him. She watched him for a second, musing whether to follow his lead and go to sleep, or to mess with him more, when a sudden thought emerged, - Mark? – she called him, drawing a dozy hum from him, - You ever thought about making it official?

- Official what? – it took a whole long moment for the elf to reply, mind already slipping away into slumber.

- You know… tying the knot, - she elaborated, gesturing vaguely, - getting the arrow to the knee, - Mark snorted, - Marriage, for fuck’s sake, you deep skull dingus, - the elf snickered, shoving the girl off him, turning his back on her, - Seriously, Mark. You need to.., - she couldn’t finish the sentence, as he bent around rather uncomfortably, putting his hand over her mouth.

- Sure, you’re gonna be my flower girl, - he unbent back into his place, tucking his hands under his head, sleep returning to him once more, - Now shut up, - she pinched the skin on his side yet again, mad at him for interrupting her, but the elf didn’t react, - Nah, you’re not getting the maid of honor, that’s gonna be Meltem.

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- Where is he, you dipshit, - Kanarielle cornered a servant, holding him by his throat, green fumes shimmering in between her fingers, threatening the poor man with a slow and painful death. She’s been stalking him like a predator this whole evening, observing from a distance first to confirm her suspicions, them making a move, - Where is he?! – she repeated, her voice raw, uncharacteristic to her, as she slammed the servant into the wall. The man whined like an injured dog, - I saw him with you, you stupid cunt, what did you give him and where did you take him? – the man kept silence, anxiously shooting glances behind her as if someone were to save him from the enraged ayleid. She slapped him across his face, - Sunnabe, dead or alive, you’re telling me everything either way, - Kanarielle spat, piercing through the skin on the neck of the servant with the shards of ice condensed at the tips of her fingers, turning the them red as the blood leaked out of the wounds. She didn’t want to resort to puppeteering – it was hard, tiresome to hold the connection, she hated to control living beings like this, and most importantly at the moment – she was wearing an expensive evening dress; it was something Mandil taught her in secret from Bellaniel, figured she would need this knowledge should she be in a grave danger. It was different from the common known blood magic; hers was primordial and basic, relying on the blood flowing through the creatures of flesh. One way to use it was to draw blood of a target, allowing her to control it indefinitely; there could be multiple targets at once, up to a full army, with, possibly, no limitations, though she had no opportunity, or will, to test it. The other way was to manipulate a target though the power of her own blood, ideal for covert operations and perfect for remote control. Both had their drawbacks: first was messy, leaving wounds on the victims, having literal strings attached that get severed with a distance; the second required constant concentration, and she couldn’t hold it for a long period of time, draining her of her powers, - Now speak, - the flesh under her hand relaxed, and she removed herself from the body, - From the beginning, - she commanded the servant, smearing his warm blood in between her fingers.

… She made her way down a green cavern, voices becoming louder and louder. It was dank in here, moldy smells in the air; the cave floor was muddy, footprints barely visible in the wet dirt, occasional slide marks too – someone lost their footing and slipped on the slope. Luckily, she didn’t notice any signs of fight or struggle.

The servant, or rather his willing body, proved useful in tracking down the abductors. The people behind the kidnapping were some backwater nobles of the Reach, merchants by trade, criminals by fate, barely known to the world; the business became harder with the more frequent attacks of the foresworn and the vampires, and their town in the middle of nowhere quickly depopulated, turning into a shadow of its former self… Like it was blooming before, Kanarielle snorted. Apparently, they were helped by some families once or twice with soldiers, food and gold, but their inability at keeping it together turned away their former allies, leaving them alone. Fast forward few years later, and the family finally resorted to racketeering, trying their “best” to help their town to survive. They should’ve just left it altogether, there was nothing valuable in the area safe for a small field of crops and an iron mine.

Kana warned him, told him to be careful around the nobility, to trust no one and be on a high alert, but he did not listen. He was careless around people, bothered by something so much he had lowered his guard down; she tried her best to keep him out of harm’s way, but failed, letting him slip from her constant surveillance. Now where was he? Kidnapped, held captive as a tool to regain someone else’s power; he was here somewhere, hopefully not dead or sick. The Soranos didn’t know, not yet, neither did know Meltem about what happened – she kept her discovery secret, preferring to keep it quiet to keep the collateral damage as low as it could be possible. An easy job, infiltrate and rescue, she’s done this a hundred times already with Jack. So far she did good, only once having to knock out a brute at the entrance; entering a combat would be a death sentence for her alone without anyone to back her up.

The servant uncovered their ploy. The merchants turned criminals joined together with a group of highway robbers: the first were to find an unsuspecting target and to gain their trust – they still were nobles despite the shady dealings; the second were to wait outside for the first to render the target unconscious to abduct them to a secluded retreat far into the forests; the nobles then would be free of any suspicions, and later can present the wounded party with their help, saying they… found the culprits through their connections in exchange for a favor and some fame points. And Mark just made their entire bank and more, Kanarielle shook her head disapprovingly, they probably didn’t expect to make it with a hostage of his size.

She climber up a ledge, observing the roaming bandits below: she counted five of them, all minding their own business; they did not seem to notice an intruder yet. Behind – she passed three more, and she had no idea how many of them were ahead. “How much you think we gonna get for he arse?” – she heard one of them asking the other. Kanarielle slowly exhaled, not knowing she had her breath held this whole time, relieved with the question - it meant these bandits were still on the same page with the merchants back at the party. “We’re better off selling him to someone else”, - another voice chimed in, low and worried, “The kid’s a Sorano, his granny won’t leave us alive once we do the deal”. Right, the girl thought, the merchants told them there’s going to be a negotiation, but failed to mention them slaughtering all the bandits to keep them quiet and away from their own affairs. “We have our orders! The boy is to be sold to his family. Our patrons shall cover us”, - another one spoke, flailing around with a rusty mace of his. A dangerous stuff, Kana noted, as she noticed a sick yellow aura radiating from it, the glow floating on the surface of the metal. “You so sure?” – the man from before replied, sarcastic tone of his voice, definitely having experience in this matter, “Our dear “patrons” might as well rescue the kid themselves! You know how they operate, we mustn’t trust them. Gotta sell the boy to someone else, get our gold, save our lives as well while we can…”

Kanarielle didn’t listen to them any longer, dropping down from the ledge, trying not to slip on the wet floor, and proceeded further. She sneaked behind the rocks and furniture, snippets of their conversation getting to her ears, none registering though. Her mind was still at the thoughts expressed by the last guy – little idea he had about how close to the truth he was; their “patrons” were to rescue the elf in a few hours, slaughtering each and every single one of them on sight so they wouldn’t tell the truth to Esmir.

Another bend of the tunnel, and she saw cages and a guard, so carelessly standing with his back wide open to the entrance, watching after the precious prisoner. Without wasting anymore time, she sneaked up on him, delivering a sharp blow with a dagger right under his ribs. His blood rushed to the wound, turning her hand red; the man did not utter a word, but tried to fight her and the feeling, yet the control over his body slipped away eventually, and she took over it herself, his blood like strings attached to her fingers.

- Guard the entrance, - she commanded quietly, blood shimmering in the weak light of the torches, - Do not let anyone in, tell them whatever you must. Do not pick a fight, try to stall them as long as you can, - the man nodded, turning on his heels.

She looked around herself; the elf was lying in front of her behind the bars, seemingly unconscious, thick metal cuffs around his wrists digging into his skin, a tight metal collar around the neck. The keys to the cages were lying flat on the wooden table across the room, covered in a layer of rust, all of the same shape and size, so it probably didn’t matter which one she used to open the locks.

Kanarielle entered the cell, kneeling before him and inspecting the shackles – runes were all over them, glowing lightly with violet, radiating something that made it harder for her to breathe, fatigue getting to her, probably enchanted with silence, draining the prisoner of his magic; they were prepared well, even predicted the possibility of a magic-capable hostage. She tried to open the locks with the keys from the cells, but none worked the key to the binds was probably in someone else’s hands, and she had no time to go back and look for it. The other way to rescue the elf was to disintegrate the metal altogether: the ayleid put her hands around the collar first, watching it start to age, rust flakes falling slowly until there was nothing left, all crumbled to dust, the enchantment gone as well. A wave of power washed over her as the barrier containing the magic was gone, and Mark gasped for air, his consciousness returning to him.

- What the…? – he tried to ask, but his throat was dry like a desert, preventing him from speaking more.

- Don’t talk, - Kana told him, cupping the cuffs with her hands, disintegrating those as well, the metal turning to rust and to dust, - Gonna tell you later. Can you walk? Gotta get out of here, - she got back on her feet, handing him a small flask of water she had stashed in a pocked. The elf finished the entire container in no time.

The kid tried to stand, shaking violently, muscles sore, but standing nonetheless. He was no fighter at the moment, more of a burden, and she had to get him out of here to the safety of his grandmother.

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- Esmir was furious when I dragged your sorry ass to her, - the ayleid laughed lightly, applying a soothing balm to the irritation on the skin from the rusty metal cuffs on his wrists and his neck. There was some swelling here and there, bruises and scratches, but nothing that wouldn’t heal with the time, - Not gonna lie to you, it was scary, - Mark hissed quietly at the girl rubbing on his wounds. He was already sitting at the edge of the bed, ready to take off from the discomfort of the balm she was using, - Shit, sorry, but you gotta take it as it is, I’m no healer, - the elf silently nodded, turning his head to the side, - You know, your grandmother’s a terrifying woman. She was all fury for the first couple minutes, then calmed down, and next she was playing along with the guys who ‘napped you. Esmir, the helpless and innocent old lady, - she snickered. A crackling sound in the distance alerted her; she turned to look into the direction of the sound, but there was nothing. The Void was calm as well, so she paid no further attention to it, resuming the talk, - She sent Orlan after them, then went in herself. Dunno what happened there, but she was… ecstatic on their return, totally soaked in blood.

- Picked the wrong granny to mess with, - Mark laughed, coughing, still exhausted. It’s been a few days already, and he still hadn’t recovered from the incident, magic depleted. Esmir figured the shackles had some strong enchantment bound to them, and it would be for the best to let the kid rest in the Void, to let the place do its job; Kana brought him back here, staying at his side this whole time and tending to the bruises.

She added one last smear of the balm to the swelling on his neck and set the jar aside.

- Damn, you never told me she had a daedra for a lover. Disgusting. And what’s even more disgusting is that it said it’s your… I’m sorry, half-brother? – she had a mixed expression on her face, disgust with repulsion and confusion sprinkled on top.

Mark groaned.

- Don’t ask. Father’s side. Luckily they aren’t related. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if they were, she can do anything, - he brushed it off as if it was a no biggie. Really, it was a no big deal for the woman, she found interest in everyone and everything that moved and had some semblance of personality to them. Her main lover was her bodyguard and ex-general Orlan, whom she trusted with her life and everything she had. The other was the daedra, Walerian, and she praised him as a versatile worker bee, though Mark wished he didn’t know that; he was the usual resident of her beds, and she loved showing him off in the public. Another one was a woman she mentioned once, an old altmer mage, but he couldn’t remember her name, and an unknown dunmer with violet eyes. Esmir was a married woman though, not even a widow, yet that did not hold her back in her love affairs.

- That is gross. Anyways, - Kanarielle covered her face with the palms of her hands, trying to make her face relax after cringing so hard, - It? He then? said they had a fun time messing with them, - she paused, listening to the sudden footsteps sounds growing louder and louder, as if someone was getting closer, but the Void, Catherine, didn’t alert her to the intruder, so she tried to not mind it, - He went into the details, but I had to cut him short. Really disgusting, thank you very much, and I’d rather not hear about the guts hanging for the ceiling and eventual… you get the idea. Super gross. Apparently they had some fricky time in the pools of blood and right on top of the corpses, - she added quietly, gagging. Esmir did enjoy some blood and gore plays.

Someone walked into the room, their steps echoing against the stone.

- What happened here? – the silver-haired man inquired, looking at the elves on the bed, blood dripping from his hands and a huge serrated sword, leaving a red trail behind. He lowered the weapon with its jagged edges near the entrance, the blade making a clacking sound against the stone.

Mark shushed at Kanarielle, giving her the most intense looks she’s ever seen in her entire life. His face went from asking to threatening to murderous and to pleading, but she had none of it.

- No biggie, - she winked at the elf, - this dumbass got himself kidnapped, - the girl shrugged her shoulders as the dumbass in question hit her lightly into her thigh. Aspen cocked his eyebrow at them, - He oughtta know what kind of idiot you are, stop being pissy, - the elf rolled his eyes, giving the ayleid the middle finger, - I’m wounded! – she exclaimed, - Alright, cue taken, gonna leave you two, - Kana raised her hands into the air, getting up from the bed and leaving the room.

Aspen took off his blood soaked coat at the entrance, disposing of it rather untidily. There was a hint of worry in his otherwise blank face, and it took the elf by surprise when the man approached him.

- You hurt? – his voice uncharacteristically concerned, - Let me see, - he reached his hand out to the elf, trying to catch him by his arm, but the elf pulled away, almost jumping, violently shaking his head.

- You ain’t touching me with those, - he pointed at the coagulated, almost dried out blood on his fingers. Face nonchalant, Aspen grabbed a fistful of clean purple bed sheets and wiped the hands with them, reaching to the elf once again. Mark groaned, giving him his hand at last, - Who’s blood is that?

The man gently touched the swollen bruise, his fingers finding the wet sticky balm Kanarielle applied a few minutes ago; he stroked the entire scar lengthwise, occasionally drawing huffs and puffs from the elf: it’s been less than a week since the incident, but the area under the binds still hurt as if covered in tiny invisible cuts.

- Not mine, - Aspen answered with a low and tired voice, letting go of the hand and switching over to the bruise on the neck, - Should be gone in a week, - the man concluded, pulling the elf’s black haired head closer, giving a quick peck under the jaw and letting go.

Aspen looked drained, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than ever, the elf noted, watching him from below remove messy articles of clothing; he looked like he’s about to crash, and his gear did not want to cooperate with the fatigue. Mark had to stand up; he stopped him with a gesture of his hand, grabbing the apparel himself and pulling down, discarding near the bed – he’ll tidy it up later. The man thanked him faintly, clumsily climbing on the bed, crashing into the sheets with eyes already closed; the elf sat at the edge, looking all over him for a moment: he seemed uninjured, just deadly tired.

- So, when are you returning? – Mark asked after a long pause, having nothing else to ask. Aspen tilted his head at the elf, one eye barely open, sighing in exhaustion before closing it again, - Fine, gonna leave you alone then.

- Stay, - he muttered, catching the elf by his forearm before he would get up. With the residue of strength he had left, Aspen pulled him onto the bed, a tad higher than himself, - I have to get some sleep, - he told him as if explaining an obvious concept to a toddler, throwing his arm around elf’s waist to keep him grounded. The man was tense, muscles stiff and rigid, - Need to get going in a few hours, - his words carried a concealed plea, and if Mark didn’t know him any better, it would go unnoticed.

He nodded, awkwardly climbing higher onto the bed, almost curling around the man, around his head and the torso; his white hair smelled of iron and gunpowder, a hint of ash too as he combed through it, the scent becoming stronger as he planted gentle kisses. Aspen softened into the feeling, brows relaxing, breath steady. Mark smiled gingerly, his hand going lower, caressing man’s temples softly, thumb brushing the high cheekbones; eventually, both drifted to sleep.

________________________________________________________

Mark was woken up by a scent of marigolds with faint notes of lemon balm, thyme and sage, all carried with an overwhelmingly sweet and sour aroma of sea buckthorn. He cringed; he loved the tree, it was absolutely unique in its looks of silver needle-like leaves and amber fruit, yet the berries’ taste was disgusting in his book, and it made him want to get away from it as far as he could.

Something touched his neck, warm and oily, thick liquid slowly going down his skin, rerouted by a touch somewhere else. He opened his eyes; instead of seeing Kanarielle with the tingling, itchy balm Esmir’s healer gave them, he found Aspen bent over him with a smelly jar in his hand, amber of color, applying the oil to the bruise on his neck.

- Miss Aquilla brought me the ingredients I asked her, - he noticed the elf wake up. Mark winced, the smell of the berries too strong to bear. The man smiled; he put the jar aside to pet the elf on the head with his clean hand, leaning closer to kiss him on the forehead, - The one you used before caused irritations, had to make something different, - his fingers dipped into the oil again, smearing another portion of it on the other side of the neck, gently rubbing it in until it stopped dripping.

- Thanks, - the elf mumbled, trying to get up; Aspen pulled him up, switching his attention to the bruises on the wrists, - Thought you needed to get going, - Mark said, watching the man rub in the oil into his skin; he’s bound to be smelling funny the whole day. The man nodded.

- I have some time left, - he switched onto the other wrist, - Need to tend to your bruises first, - the jar was finally closed, and Mark exhaled in relieve; surprisingly, the new mixture didn’t sting at all like the fat-based balm before did, and he’ll probably get used to the smell later on, - Mark, why can’t I leave you alone? – Aspen suddenly asked, grabbing him by his hands, taking the elf by surprise. He sounded like a disappointed teacher, - You have to be more careful, - the man explained, drawing a wheezing laugh from him, - I’m being serious, Mark, - he paused, - I don’t want to come back one day and find you missing a limb, - Mark laughed nervously, staring at the weary man; the intense look in his eyes said more than he needed to know, filling the elf with guilt the more he kept staring. He muttered an “I’m sorry” under his breath, shifting his gaze somewhere to his feet, fidgeting with fingers, “I’ll be more careful”, - I know you are worried as well, - Aspen pulled the elf in a hug, feeling him rest his chin on his shoulder, - I will be back soon.

- Yeah, - Mark sighed, hiding his face in the crook of man’s neck, - Haven’t heard anything from you for almost two weeks, and last night you appeared soaked in blood. Can’t mind my own safety when I don’t know if you’re okay or not.

- I’ll be back soon, promise, - he repeated, pulling away, - I have some unfinished business, it won’t take long, - Aspen kissed him on the forehead, getting up from the bed, - Have to get going now, - he told him, collecting his gear lying around on the floor haphazardly, the blood dried out and flaking already, leaving red spots throughout the clothing; Mark rose up after, helping him put the apparel on him.

- You are disgustingly sweet, - Kanarielle took both by surprise, silently entering the room, almost sneaking up on them, - Might as well start selling all that sugar of yours… Here, the last piece of your order, - she came up to them, handing Aspen a leather pouch filled with something, hard edges prominent under the hide. The man thanked her with a nod, palpating the purse and the contents inside; happy with the thing delivered, he kissed the elf goodbye and bowed to the ayleid, - Boy, aren’t you two looking like a couple of mushy puppies, - she commented, watching the man leave them alone and disappear into the portal.

- Kana, - Mark suddenly called her, weirdly excited. Her comment was ignored, - tell me, why can’t I make shortcuts through the Void?

- Shortcuts? – she was taken aback by his question, expecting anything but this. She furrowed her brows, looking for a better answer. Unlike the Void that one could access from anywhere, the Sanctuary had a single door inside and out, connected through a disguised portal to a series of flooded long caverns for a more difficult access inside a mountain range in Skyrim. To travel from within the realm, Bellaniel had built a secret chamber with hundreds of doors, all connecting to the outside world, and she was the only one who had the keys to get in and out, - Well, the Void is closer to a pocket realm: you exit where you enter, - the girl explained, gathering her thoughts together, - It’s like a hub; to exit elsewhere you need to have a door or two with an anchor in the world outside. Something like that.

- Can we make them? – he inquired cautiously, thinking about the prospect, - And are there any security risks?

The elf girl laughed.

- You are bothered by the security? Oh boy, Mark, you can make it so no one gets there, ever. This whole place belongs to you, you are the master key; you give and revoke invitations to the place, it’s as secure as nothing will ever be, - she hugged him by his shoulders, ruffling his hair, - I have no idea how to open or make doors, but… - Kanarielle listened to the breeze, - but I think Catherine is more than happy to help us.

#sc_storytime #SC_KanarielleAquilla #SC_Mark #SC_EsmirSorano #FV_Aspen #SC_Nilufer

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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I’m Always Curious Part Nine

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. Synathehol is a TNG thing I think, so. On Earth in this story they drink alcohol, thank you. I hope everyone is well :) Thank you to everyone that’s read/liked/reblogged/replied! I really appreciate it! Summary: I’d become too engrossed in an argument with Spock (albeit a friendly one) on the effects (and logic) of using time travel to go back and change certain events. My idea was, if two totally separate events weren’t known to have any impact on one another, what would it matter which order you visited them in?

Shock of all shocks, I didn’t sleep well. “What are you listening to?” Thira asked as I pulled my headphones out. “Oh, it’s...” I floundered before waving her off, “Don’t worry about it, I can only understand, like, some of it.” “What are you up to?” “I’ve got a lecture in--” I glanced at the time, “Like an hour, so I have got to run.” “Are you coming to Liquara tonight?” Thira asked, watching me gather my things. “Ah... I think so?” I glanced back at her as I packed my PADD into my bag. “You can take one night off,” Thira said, “Loosen up, have a couple of drinks...Maybe meet somebody?” She waggled her brows at me, and I laughed, unable to help it. “I don’t think that’ll be happening,” I said, pulling bag onto my shoulder. “Come on, when was the last time you dated?” Thira asked, folding her legs up under herself. “I don’t know, my last year of the Academy?” I shrugged. “...Yikes,” Thira muttered. “Thank you for that-- I’m leaving now!” I tacked on before hurrying out of our room. -- I did manage to make it to my Dominionese lecture on time, with a very large coffee (loaded with extra espresso and additional caramel drizzle). I got to the lecture hall just on time and took the only available seat left - right next to Captain Pike. I couldn’t help my stiff posture as I sat down, taking out my PADD and putting on the virtual display sensory headset that was left out for me. As the instructor began to lay out what we’d be working on, I felt Pike lean over, his bicep pressing against mine as he murmured, “Late night?”

I hummed the affirmative, picking up my coffee and taking a sip as if to prove it. I heard Pike chuckle beside me, and I fought the urge to turn my head, see the waiting smile. I kept my eyes on the instructor, then on the Dominionese that appeared on the headset. I could still feel Pike’s arm pressed to mine; that didn’t matter, right? I could focus on something other than contact. I zoned in on the text on the headset, letting my fingers move over my PADD as I worked through the first few rows of translations. Now and again, the instructor would interrupt us, calling on students to read their translations aloud, correcting for grammar and syntax. Pike and I escaped the questioning; I’d found that unless the workshops or classes were geared specifically toward alumni, instructors tended to leave visiting students alone. Pike didn’t lean over to chat anymore throughout the rest of the class, which was a relief, but he didn’t lean away, either. He was close throughout, arm still resting against mine, thighs occasionally brushing, or our feet would knock against one another under the desk. Every single time I’d tell myself that if this was Una, or Thira, it wouldn’t be making my heart jump the way it was. If this was Spock-- Actually, no. Spock would keep his limbs to himself.

Nevertheless, class passed without incident. I removed the headset as it ended, closing my eye for a moment to help it readjust. “Well, that was informative,” Pike piped up. I glanced over at him, nodding, and was more than a little relieved to find him focused on packing away his things. I turned back down to my PADD, saving the notes I’d taken as I saw Pike’s head turn back to me, presumably as a result of my lack of verbal response. “You heading back to the ship?” He prompted. “Ah-- No. There’s a language panel on Iconian in...” I glanced at the time on my PADD, “Like ten minutes, so, I’m just gonna hang out here.” "Packed morning,” Pike commented, brows raised. I shrugged. “I just--” “Like to keep busy?” Pike finished knowingly, smiling. I returned the smile in spite of myself, nodding. “Exactly,” I confirmed. “Well, try to get some rest some time this week, lieutenant,” the Captain said, standing and patting me on the shoulder as he passed me. I returned my eyes to my PADD, unthinkingly answering, “Yeah, you, too.” I heard Pike’s steps falter, but I didn’t raise my eyes to meet what I was sure was a questioning gaze. I just reopened my Dominionese and reviewed my answers until I was sure he was gone. -- I did not want to go out. After the last 24 hours I’d had, I just wanted to take an extra long, extra hot shower and curl up in bed with my PADD and a bottle Risian wine. But I also knew that if I didn’t go, I wouldn’t hear the end of it from Thira -- and possibly from Una. I got to Liquara a little while after everyone else (the panel on Iconian had run long and delayed my getting back to the ship; I’d taken longer to get ready because I’d had to re-talk myself into going every five minutes). “You’re alive?” Thira teased as I settled into a seat beside hers and across from Una. There were a few others at the table - Spock, Nhan, and Connolly, as well as a few people from engineering that I vaguely recognized. “I was just telling everyone how you had your headphones on this morning and you were listening to something that sounded so harsh, but kinda...Lyrical. What was that?” Thira asked. The surrounding party looked at me expectantly and I answered, “Klingon poetry.” “I wasn’t aware there as an intensive on Klingon poetry this week,” Una commented, brow raised. “This was more of an independent study situation,” I admitted. “Is there anything in particular that sparked your sudden interest in such a topic?” Spock asked. I shrugged, reaching for a menu and skimming it in favor of meeting anyone’s eye. “Just had the urge, I guess,” I excused before looking around, “I haven’t been here in a while, so, someone refresh my memory: are the slush-o mixes worth the hangover?” -- I stayed out later than I had anticipated. I didn’t partake in many sugary alcoholic drinks on the Enterprise, so it didn’t take long for a decent buzz to kick in. People peeled off as the night wore on, until it was down to myself, Thira, Una, Spock, and Connolly -- practically the ready room crowd.

I should not have stayed out, though. I should’ve had one drink and then ducked out gracefully. But I’d become too engrossed in an argument with Spock (albeit a friendly one) on the effects (and logic) of using time travel to go back and change certain events. My idea was, if two totally separate events weren’t known to have any impact on one another, what would it matter which order you visited them in? “My point is, if I chose first to go back and stop T.S. Eliot from writing Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats and then subsequently traveled forward in time and stopped Oppenheimer from designing the atomic bomb--” “Why would you choose to halt the writing of a book rather than the creation of a catastrophic weapon?” Spock asked. “Okay, two reasons: One - It is a time machine, Spock, I’d have literally nothing but time. Two-- No, actually, three reasons-- two, that book came out in 1939, the Manhattan Project didn’t start until 1942, so I think it is safe to say that despite its historical significance to mankind, I would not be doing the world a disservice by visiting those events in chronological order.” “And the third reason?” Una asked. "The movie CATS was the first step to the subsequent tanking of Universal Studios in the 22nd century, so that’s my first priority if I ever get a personal time machine,” I said simply. His laugh joined in with the others-- my ear caught on that sound, the way it had the night before. My eyes darted to the other end of the table, and I felt my smile falter a little. I had been so engrossed in my conversation with Spock that I hadn’t even noticed the Captain settled on the other side of Connolly. Pike’s eyes met mine as the laughter settled, and I gave him a quick smile before averting my eyes. I could feel Una looking at me, and when I raised my eyes to hers, I found her brow quirked. She peered around Connolly at the Captain. “What kept you?” She asked. “I was speaking with Admiral Cornwall about our next mission. Nothing for us to discuss tonight. How was the lecture?” He asked. When silenced followed the question, I realized it had been directed at me. I met Pike’s eye again. “Informative.” I left it there, picking up the menu again and looking it over. Part of me already know I was going to be switching to water, though. -- I remembered why I’d liked being called to the ready room so much at the beginning - when there were so many of us, before I was better acquainted with the Captain, it was easier for me to hang back; I didn’t feel as pressured to speak up. And at Liquara, with Una, Thira, and Connolly there to steer the conversation, and Spock to interject (heavily), I didn’t feel that the conversation lagged anywhere. And I was being good - keeping my eyes to myself, only looking at the Captain when he was speaking; smiling and laughing an appropriate amount, and definitely, definitely not thinking about that sigh of his name and the giggle I’d heard the night before. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving.” Thira had managed to catch what I had assumed was a subtle shrugging on of my jacket, but what to her was apparently a beacon of retreat. I gave her a small, regretful smile. “I just realized how late it is.” “You’re not going to the long-range sensor lab again, are you?” Spock asked, watching me. Unbeknownst to me, he’d been there himself the night before, and had actually left shortly before I had. I laughed a little, shaking my head. “No, not tonight. I’ve got an Exoarchaeology and the 22nd Century intensive that I’ve gotta be up for,” I excused, “I already settled up at the bar.” “I thought you were going to ask about their drink special,” Una pointed out, raising a brow. I shrugged as I stood. “And I did. Right before I settled up. Have a good night, guys,” I cast a quick smile around, careful not to let my eyes linger on anyone for too long before I turned and left. That had been good, right? Natural. I had contributed to the conversation, I hadn’t hung on the Captain’s every word like some giggling schoolgirl. I’d more than earned that extra long, extra hot shower. And maybe one Klingon poem. “Headed for the shuttles?” Every single instinct told me to walk faster, pretend I hadn’t heard him. I turned in spite of this. He wasn’t too far behind me. I stopped walking, giving him the chance the catch up. "Sort of our only way to get back to the ship right now, so, that was the plan,” I nodded. Pike pulled his communicator out, raising it to his lips. I was a little tipsy, but I was looking at the communicator, I swear, not at Pike’s mouth. “Pike to transporter room. Two to beam up.” “But--” Before I could finish my sentence, we were in the transporter room. “But?” Pike asked before nodding to the crew. I gave them a quick wave before stepping off of the pads behind Pike. “But I thought the transporter room was out of commission until the Enterprise’s diagnostic was complete,” I said, following Pike to the turbolift. “Diagnostic was completed this morning, Enterprise was cleared,” Pike reported, brow furrowing, “I mentioned that earlier.” Maybe he had; I had been making an active effort at the bar to not listen too intently to what he was saying, and apparently I’d done too good of a job. I nodded once. “Right. Sorry, I must have slush-o mix in my ears,” I muttered. We stepped onto the turbolift, each reaching for the control panel. Pike and I both lowered our hands, and I heard Pike murmur, “Go ahead.” I entered my destination before Pike entered his. There was a pause before the lift hummed. “...Lieutenant, may I ask you something?” “‘Course.” “Please don’t take this unkindly, but,” Oh god, “Is everything alright?” I turned a frown up at Pike, confused. “Why do you ask?” “You seem to be burying yourself in work. Between the lectures yesterday and this morning,” How did he know about yesterday? “The long-range sensor lab last night, your lecture tomorrow-- I’ve been told you took Onafuwa’s one-day intensive?” Una. Blabbermouth. “All compelling evidence, but need I remind you, Captain, that we are in the same turbolift right now because we just left the same bar?” I pointed out. Pike’s brow quirked. “Be that as it may, I just wanted to ask the question on the off-chance it needed asking.” I turned my head again to face the turbolift doors. “I’m alright, Captain.” “...Then why couldn’t you look me in the eye and say that?” “Is that why you left?” I asked, looking up at him then. “Excuse me?” “The bar. Is that why you left the bar? To ask me this?” He blinked once, twice, then pursed his lips, shook his head once and said, “No.” I couldn’t help the smug look that overtook my features as the turbolift doors opened on my floor. Looking back, I’d pass the boldness off on the copious amount of slush-o mix I’d had at the bar. “Never join the Starfleet poker league, Captain. You don’t bluff well,” I said before stepping off of the lift and leaving him behind.

#Christopher Pike #Chris Pike #christopher pike/reader #christopher pike x reader #Christopher Pike/You #Christopher Pike Imagine #I'm Always Curious #captain pike #captain pike x reader #Captain Pike/Reader #Captain Pike Imagine #Captain Pike x You

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danganronpa-21 · 4 years ago

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Naegiri Week Day 5 - Touch

Here’s Day 5 - Touch! It’s my yearly obligatory “involves pregnancy in some way” fic. I would categorize this as a mild hurt/comfort, so thankfully, I think there are no warnings to issue. I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think!

Fun fact: I wrote this entire one-shot in Comic Sans.

___________________________

Two minutes.

Makoto just had to wait two minutes.

When did two minutes get to be so long?!

Heartbeat resting rather uncomfortably in this throat, he glanced longingly over at Kyoko. He’d hoped that she might be able to grant him some semblance of comfort, but even she looked as nervous as he was. Her whole torso stiffened; her eyes fixed intently on her own hands. One finger traced patterns along the bare skin, for once not seeming to mind the texture. Hands that looked like overcooked hamburger meat, Makoto thought. Hands that belonged to the woman he loved. Hands that belonged to the mother of his child. Children, his mind corrected. They weren’t sure which it would be yet. That’s what they were waiting on, after all. Quietly, they prayed for a positive pregnancy test.

He uncrossed his legs, leaning forward slightly to stare at the floor. Off-white bathroom tile, he remarked to himself, as if it were anything extraordinary. It’s something he and Kyoko picked out together when their house was first being built. He remembered how much time they’d spent thinking over simple things like that, wondering what would be best. Times like that seemed miles away now, but he guessed that some parts never changed. After all, they were still sitting there, thinking too hard about what was to come next for them. He hoped Kyoko wouldn’t be too upset this time if they got another negative. The last time she’d been sorely disappointed, but the time before that, she held onto her determined attitude. The time before that… well, there had been so many times that they all blended together.

It was funny. They had such an easy time having their first. Their little angel, a baby girl they’d called Hope, had been a complete accident. He could have laughed at how reckless they’d been; they were only a few years into being intimate with one another. Neither of them expected to get pregnant out of nowhere like that, and they were nervous about being good parents… but Hope was the best thing that ever happened to them (no joke intended). In fact, she was the catalyst for the decision to have another. Back when they first got engaged, Kyoko told him that she only wanted one child, for the sake of giving an heir to the Kirigiri family. If they enjoyed having the one, she said she might consider having another, but it seemed so outside of the realm of possibility then. When she told him that, Makoto expected to only have one child.

What a funny turn of events it was for Kyoko to curl up in bed with him so many months ago, her head leaning on his shoulder. One look at her face and he could tell that she wanted something. Not just anything, either. It was something she wanted rather desperately. The batting of her eyelashes at him was proof enough.

“Can I help you, Kyoko?” He remembered giggling, nudging her head with his own. In his lap was a self-help book he’d been reading as of late, meant to teach the meeker population how to put their foot down. It had been a birthday gift from Toko, as well as a bit of a jab. Perhaps a bit of unknown foreshadowing, even. “You’ve been sitting there giving me sweet eyes for the last few minutes.”

If she had any remorse about being found out, she didn’t show it. She simply kept on enticing him with her fluttering lashes and soft smile. “I guess I was just thinking about how far we’ve come, and how lucky we are.”

Makoto nodded. “We are really lucky.”

“Yes, we are. After all of those years of pain, we finally get to experience a healing world. We have well-paying and engaging careers, the most considerate friends anyone could ask for, a cozy home, the best kind of love from each other, and the most flawless little girl this world has ever seen…” Makoto couldn’t help but recall how silvery her tone was. When it was all rich and saccharine like that, it felt like listening to liquid caramel. He could listen to her talk like that all day.

“It’s comforting to see how much has fallen into place for us, isn’t it?”

She took her turn to nod, wearing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. If he hadn’t noticed her reluctance before, he certainly would have then. “Yes, it is. Even with all of this happiness, though, I find there is something more I long for.”

The most he could think to do in that situation was blink in surprise, turning his head to look at her. As much as he trusted her, he would have to confess that a seed of worry buried itself in the pit of his stomach at the sound of those words. For all he knew then, she could have been asking to get a new pet, to open up their relationship, to start following a new religion, anything! The anxiety of it all made him start to nibble his lip a bit, but he tried to maintain his composure for her sake. “And what is that?”

His wife seemed to curl in on herself ever so slightly, and a deep shade of rose dusted itself across her cheeks and nose all of the sudden. Though he turned his face to meet her eyes, she’d just as quickly turned away to stare at her empty lap. “I… I… well, I…”

“Yeah?” He supplied encouragingly, raising his eyebrows.

“I… I want another baby.”

“You… You do?” Excitement cut into him like a knife through a spongy cake. His heart began to thunder in his chest; a smile begged to form on his lips. While he anticipated having the one baby, he secretly wished that Kyoko would change her mind. More than anything, Makoto wanted to have a big, happy family with his wife. He’d have been happy with just the three of them, but he wanted his daughter to have the experience of growing up with a sibling, like he did.

“Is that okay?” Kyoko asked in a small voice, the rouge colour in her face darkening.

“Of course it is! I’d love to have another baby!”

That day seemed like such a long time ago. Something like four months later, they found themselves in their current position: sitting together waiting for a positive pregnancy test, the announcement that would tell them that their dreams were going to come to life. All he could do was stare anxiously at Kyoko, who continued to trace swirled patterns on the palms of her hands. She had had to remove her gloves to take the test, fearing getting urine on them, and had yet to put them back on. Honestly, he hoped she wouldn’t. Right now, he just wanted to hold her hand.

He uncrossed his legs and wiggled closer to her, hope that she might take the hint rising in his chest. These two minutes would be some of the most agonizing of their day, even worse than overseeing Hope’s failed attempts at potty training. It made the most sense to go through these next moments together, sitting as close as possible. Without thinking, he leaned his head on her shoulder. The corners of her mouth twitched upward at the action, but she refused to give him a full smile.

“I suppose you can tell how nervous I am, can’t you?”

Reaching up to brush a strand of her long hair behind her ear, he chuckled. “I think it would be more of a concern if I couldn’t tell you were nervous after all this time. You’re almost trembling.”

She ducked her head down, as if she were ashamed. Makoto didn’t know what for. Everybody had the potential to get nervous, even world-class detectives. Especially world-class detectives! World-class detectives who were trying to be moms for a second time even more so. “God, am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s only a little, but I’m pretty observant. You taught me how to do that.”

Her index finger began to reverse the spiral it had just finished tracing, still holding most of her attention. Did these little finger movements give her some sense of comfort? He’d never noticed before. She’d certainly used them to soothe him before, but did she enjoy them too? It was hard to know whether he should be happy that he could still learn new things about her, or disappointed that he still had yet to become observant enough. He’d always thought her love language was less about touch, and more about words of affirmation. “I suppose I did.”

“Kyoko, honey… are you okay?” His eyebrows lowered, and all of the sudden he realized how sweaty his palms were becoming. In the midst of all of his happy reminiscing, somewhere in the back of his mind, his nervousness caught up to him.

His wife swallowed thickly; her fingers motions drawing to a halt. “I’m trying to be,” it didn’t have to be expelled, but he could see the sigh brewing within her, “I don’t know what I will do if this pregnancy test is negative.”

Makoto shrugged. “What’s the big deal if it is? Most couples take a year to six months to conceive. We’re only four months in, so it’s not like we’re falling behind or anything.”

Kyoko didn’t answer. She just kept staring at her hands, probably thinking that it was easier than looking him in the eye. Two years ago was the last time he saw her this nervous, and it was over their first baby. In some ways, he supposed he should have expected it. Anything baby-related tended to throw her for a loop. In spite of that, he still couldn’t help but feel as if this seemed a little weird. Having to watch her in such a state made him itch to take hold of her hand.

“Is there something else bothering you?”

“I’m just…” she swallowed, “I want it to work this time. I know that we can keep trying, but… Every time the test comes back negative, I worry that something’s wrong.”

“Do you think Hope was a fluke, or something?”

She sighed. “I do worry about it sometimes. You and I never expected to get pregnant so soon, and it was almost completely by accident. If I hadn’t pushed you to um… you know…”

Makoto’s face burned the colour of a cinnamon heart. There were several points in which it might be a good idea to recall the night they’d accidentally conceived; this was not one of them. He gulped, and tried to push the thoughts of the way she looked that night out of his mind. “You think we might not have had her?”

She groaned, shoving her head into her hands. “What bothers me is that I have no certainty of whether or not that is true. You know just as well as I do that I have been loaded up on poison expelling medications with all kinds of unusual side effects.”

The blush in Makoto’s cheeks deepened, and he had to fight off the urge to utter the words: “Yeah, like cancelling out the effects of birth control”. At the time of Hope’s birth, that had been their magic secret to having children.

“We don’t know for sure that that’s having any effect though, Kyoko.” His hand found its way to hers almost effortlessly, his thumb stroking the back of it. “It’s so easy to get worked up about the chances, but we don’t know anything for sure. You’ve said yourself half a million times that life is unpredictable. There’s still a good chance that we’ll pick up that pregnancy test and it’ll be positive!”

The detective slowly lifted her head. “And if it isn’t?”

“We’ll keep trying, then,” he flashed her the sweetest smile he could muster, “We’re both too stubborn to give up so easily. You can’t get the reward without putting in the effort, right?”

A grin crossed her own lips. “I suppose not. Would you… truly be willing to keep trying?” Finally, she lifted her head to fully meet his gaze, her eyes sparkling with a sense of longing. “No matter how long it may take for me to become pregnant?”

“Of course.” As weird as it may have seemed to others, he considered it to be rather special that he could be the one to comfort her in trying times. There were a scarce few souls who got the privilege of seeing the detective at her low points, and thus, many of their friends were never able to comfort Kyoko when she felt poorly. Makoto, on the other hand, got to look after her every day. Just getting to see her gradually win back that smile won him relief stronger than jumping into a chilled pool on a sweltering summer afternoon. On a list of his favourite things, he’d most certainly put Kyoko’s smile. He was honoured to get to protect it every day of his life.

Gently, she slipped her hand out from underneath his. At first, he worried that she might try to pull away, but the sensation of her fingers wiggling to intertwine his own made that concern ebb away. “Thank you for saying that,” at last, her voice regained its usual calmness, “Now, what do you say we see if fate is on our side today? I believe two minutes have passed.”

Makoto could have jumped for joy. His concern for his wife had him so wrapped up, he hardly noticed the drifting minutes. The test that would confirm the first sign of their second bundle of hope could be found sitting at the ready on the countertop. “You wanna look at it together? Count of three kind of thing?”

She giggled. “Definitely. On the count of three, we can both stand up.”

“Bet I can stand up faster than you!” He teased, poking her tongue out at her from between his lips.

It did earn him a laugh, but also a nudge with her shoulder. The decision to not release the other’s hand seemed to be unspoken. “Oh, hush and just start counting!”

“Alright. Here we go.” Deep breath. Another deep breath for good measure. Alright. Go time. “One…”

Kyoko squeezed her eyes shut and took in a big gulp of air like a child bobbing under the water for the first time. Fighting off the chuckle that brewed in his chest at that image was hard. Whatever she needed to do to get through this, he would allow her. Heaven knew he would probably need his own coping strategies to deal with his excitement. “Two…”

Makoto’s entire body tingled. His fingertips got the worst of it, yet tiny twinges of tingles danced all over him. Only his stomach received respite from it, and even then, it took on the form of a myriad of twirling maple keys all fluttering down in a storm.

“Three.”

An eye witness would not have been able to tell which half of the couple shot to their feet faster. It was a soccer game too close to call. Within seconds, Makoto and Kyoko sprung to their feet and were staring at the test on the counter. A black countertop, for the sake of contrasting their white tile floors. The little white pregnancy test stuck out upon it like the strawberry slice on top of a piece of shortcake.

One pink line, the test read.

Not pregnant.

It didn’t take looking at or saying anything to Kyoko to sense her disappointment. The air around here simply grew more somber to match her disappointment. He half-expected to feel her hand withdraw from his own. To have them retreat back into their shell of loneliness, just as she would do once this was over. Only… they didn’t. Her fingers stayed interlaced with his own.

“I… I’m sorry,” it was the only thing he could think to say after he’d spent so much time comforting her, “I thought that maybe, we might-”

She cut him off. “There is no need to apologize.” The strength in her timbre caught him by surprise. Expectation led him to believe that she would have a dash of brokenness as she spoke. That not happening caused his heart to skip a beat. When he turned to look at her, the beat skipping happened again, for he realized she wore a soft grin. “We can keep trying. We could be successful next time.”

“You’re… Y-You’re not upset?”

She shook her head and squeezed his hand. “How could I be? I’ve got you right here.”

#naegiri2020 #danganronpa #naegiri #danganronpa 21 #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #makoto x kyoko #naegi x kirigiri #kyouko kirigiri #naegi makoto #kirigiri kyoko

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anemonenemerosa · 4 years ago

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The Spare Chapter 8

Hello fellow people,

the next one.

At first thank you all for reading and supporting me! It really means a lot!

Secondly: this chapter gets dark. So please stay safe. TW for metntal struggles, self-harm and alcohol abuse.

The SW-verse belongs to the lovely @lumosinlove and the HP characters to JKR.

Chapter 8

Regulus had always prided himself with his poker face. He could fool anyone… except his mother. She knew he was sitting on something huge and kept pestering him as soon he stepped into the dining room. Despite his mother’s elaborate and well-practiced interrogation methods, he kept his mouth shut. I know your methods, mother but this time I won't give in.

On the other hand, Walburga knew Regulus, too. She knew exactly how to push his buttons but before he could crack, the interview went online and wreaked havoc over the house. It was bad but luckily, in a twisted sense, also bad enough so his mother would suspect this to be his secret, not his brother’s sexuality. For now, he was off this particular hook and had time to bury his secret too deep for anybody to find.

Sirius texted after leaving this morning "Regulus, rappelle moi s'il te plait." Please call me back.

Regulus couldn't. Firstly, he was sure that Sirius hated him now. And justified as it was, he couldn’t hear the prove of it in his brother’s voice. Secondly, the explosion of Walburga and Orion’s wrath, that Regulus fell victim to, left him with the very first black eye his father ever gave him and the promise of his mother to never leave him unsupervised again.

Now, Sirius has to share this special category of their mother with me...

Every of his steps would be watched now, every word he wanted to say conformed to her liking first. Besides, even if he was brave enough to call, his phone was still spied. Due to his new status, he was watched too closely sneak out and get himself a secret one. Also, Sirius had his people to care and comfort him. He did not need him.

I should have seen it coming, shouldn't I? Once again, Regulus chided himself for keeping his head too deep inside his own ass.

He was aware, that the interview most likely hurt his brother deeply and how remorseful Regulus felt about that now, it was the intention. He also expected his parent’s disapproval, to put it in mild words, but what he forgot to consider was the reaction of the media and public. His brother was beloved and not known for the unfair game Regulus accused him of. While the hurting part probably worked out, the Snakes, but especially Regulus, were caught in the crossfire from angry fans. The whole commotion was, of course, dutifully covered by the media, which circled the progress of events like vultures. Besides the shitstorm he evoked, Regulus really didn't expect the Death Eaters to turn their backs on him immediately. It was their idea after all.

So, the public was ripping him apart and his mother only called to check on his behaviour. Why, he did not know, given that was basically grounded. His father was too disappointed to talk to him at all and the Death Eaters resumed being indifferent towards the rookie while the second and third rank of the team gloated on his downfall. If he needed to get somewhere, Narcissa or Bellatrix kept at his side. NHL-salary was rather generous and they didn't have to work, so the women were free to accompany Regulus to everything outside practice and games, except the bathroom. Narcissa was annoyed and bored by babysitting-duty but Bellatrix seemed to enjoy tormenting Regulus.

Too cruel for her level of madness, this one.

He began wishing to talk to his brother even he would receive a lot of shit for messing up.

"Regulus, rappelle moi s'il te plait." Please call me back. Regulus wanted. But he couldn't.

His blissful mornings of light fiction reading didn't bring him peace anymore. His focus outright refused to stay on the books. His family, the Snakes and the interview with its consequences were all over his mind, suffocating everything else. Regulus stopped talking to people. Not that he was talkative to begin with. All the people mingling with his brain in his past couldn't erase his introverted nature. But his ingrained wariness towards others developed into something resembling paranoia.

The longer he thought about how he had let himself be used by the Death Eaters for their nasty operations, the worse it got. Not for the first time, but stronger than ever, Regulus felt not just reluctance but downright refusal to take part in any of this. The spiteful antics of his family and the Snakes were complicated, exhausting and plainly atrocious.

The stupor he seemed to have been all this time ashamed him... he understood Sirius a little better now and he would really like to talk about all of this. But there was no one trustworthy around, not even Mrs. Kreacher would keep quiet if her mother urged her to speak. Slughorn, the team’s psychologist wouldn't keep shut either if Riddle decided he wanted to know what was going on. Medical confidentiality was a mere suggestion, when it came to Riddle.

-oOo-

Christmas drew closer and with it came all the things Regulus deeply despised: Cheesy music and decorations, ridiculous sweaters, forced cheerfulness, glitter and lots and lots of people. People in every place, at every time; there was just no escape.

This gets worse every year, Regulus had trouble to stifle his grumbling while he shuffled through the overcrowded mall Narcissa had dragged him into for Christmas shopping.

Where do all these people stay the rest of the year? Is there a special place they are kept just to be unleashed come December? What is even the use of all that cheap nonsense people throw at each other under the glorified piece of vegetation?

Disgruntled as he was, he had to admit that this hell, specifically designed for him, kept him a little distracted from the upheaval in his brain. Fans and media got bored by Regulus lack of response to the interview and stopped caring somewhere along the increasing lunacy that was the Holiday season.

At least they leave the tea in peace. Regulus eyed the menu in front of him with narrow eyes. Is there even a coffee-like beverage left that is not a sugary winter-themed concoction? Wasn't the pumpkin-spice thing enough? Narcissa needed a break and a "coffee", so they stood in the line of whatever type of coffee-shop chain while Regulus' arms were hung with heaps of shopping bags, contemplating to dig himself a grave in his mother’s garden instead.

-oOo-

The call for All Star with Severus boosted his mood for a while. Rookies rarely got the opportunity to participate and he knew he earned it. He was good enough. But of course, the last rookie to make it to Allstar was Sirius, who else, so again it was nothing worth mentioning at home, barely acceptable. But apparently, it was sufficient to placate his parents back to speaking terms.

The Snakes Christmas-party was just as awful as Regulus had anticipated. He was just informed that Sirius would stay in Gryffindor over the holidays. Not that he could blame him but it stung a little. He just really hoped to be able to finally talk to him but couldn't call on an unmonitored phone as his cousins' watch on him did not subside. He wished he could've stayed at home but it was made clear that his was definitely not an option. Regulus dislikes parties any given day. Disliked polite but meaningless small talk, having to feed on tiny bits of food while standing around and wearing evening attire. The prospect of this party, Regulus didn't dislike. This one, he dreaded. Since Thanksgiving and its aftermath, he distrusted most of the Snakes and avoided any contact outside of practice and while he was talking again to his parents, the trust was gone.

"No ifs ands or buts about it! You go!" Narcissa all but dragged him to the Lestrange Estate, where the party took place.

Orion and Walburga were there, too but mingling around with some important and influential people. Probably collecting more information for their pathetic little feuds. As much as he liked sitting in a theatre balcony like Statler and Waldorf from the Muppet Show, taking the piss out of people, this was getting too far to be considered amusing. Also, there was a reason why Statler and Waldorf were a duo. While never given the opportunity, Regulus suspected that taking the piss off people was more fun together.

The evening went on and the absurd blend of silly games and subtle interrogation subsided into pathetic cockalorum, open hostility and unpleasant jokes as everyone except him got drunker by the minute.

Crabbe and Goyle were the first to succumb into adolescence, reshaping the Christmas pudding into a rather unbalanced pair of -Breasts? Buttocks? A lone scrotum? - while giggling uncontrollably. The same fate awaited about half of the food as the evening went on. The dubious card-game Yaxley and Mulciber were invested with two nameless guys of the third line seemed to change rules by the minute. It came to a sudden halt as Yaxley jumped from his seat and stormed over to Nott, accusing him of flirting with his wife and throwing a badly aimed punch that send a high-priced vase flying instead of crashing into Notts nose. Yaxley’s "wife" was de facto Carrow’s sister while Yaxley’s actual wife was tucked in a different corner, passionately snogging Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus' younger brother.

Amidst that ruckus, Dolohov threw up into the glogg bowl.

Regulus leaned against the kitchen counter, decidedly far away from the commotion and stared in disbelief. People... He gave an exasperated huff and allowed himself an actual eyeroll, not just a mental one.

The Death Eaters kept up a bit more dignity. They exclusively stayed in their group, sipping what looked like more expensive booze. Orion was immersed in a conversation with Riddle, Umbridge, Karkaroff and... one of the NHL governors -Fudge? -. Regulus eyebrows went up. Interesting. But no, he would not snoop. He was done with this shit. Much to Regulus´, and judging by his father’s looks, also Orion’s surprise, Narcissa, Bellatrix and his mother showed a lot self-restrain. They mingled with a flock of other hockey wives and it took uncharacteristically long for them -Crabbe, Nott and Mulciber were already passed out, Goyle and Yaxley were close- to cackle and gossip as loudly as at Regulus' draft-party.

Rabastan and Yaxley’s wife were nowhere to be seen and Regulus thought it was rather beneficial that her husband was out cold.

By now, also the -oh so sophisticated- Death Eaters started to act out. Lucius was bickering with Carrow while Macnair drew lopsided phalli on Goyle’s and Crabbe’s faces and a crooked moustache on the bridge of Yaxley’s nose. Close, though.

Severus coaxed Bellatrix out of Walburga’s cutches and started flirting blatantly. Rodolphus watched the scenery with mild interest.

Around the time when one should keep a careful eye on what was on the floor while walking, Regulus snatched himself a piece of the last cake-shaped cake. He was tired and in a sour mood while stabbing at the unsuspecting and innocent slice. Irritated, he thought about his brother, who probably had a lot of fun. While somewhat happy for him, the envy and feeling of abandonment would just not leave, as much as he tried.

Surely, Remus is fucking Sirius' brain out by now.

Regulus' eyes widened.

Did I just say that out loud? His head snapped up, Bella and Severus staring at him, frozen in their tacks. Oh no. Oh no no no nonono! Merde! Shit! Shit shit shit!

But almost instantly the woman doubled over and sputtered vomit all over a very, very drunk Severus, who swore loudly but was unable to wobble away quick enough. Regulus sidestepped the next flood of her sick and excused himself. It was late enough to leave without gaining suspicion. On the way back to Malfoy Manor, he prayed to every deity whose existence he resolutely doubted, that Severus and Bellatrix were too drunk to remember come tomorrow. He considered confessing the maybe/maybe-not slip to his brother. But the call would be noticed and if Severus and Bellatrix indeed forgot about the slip, he would just urge on their memory. Also, his brother would be furious with him and if he ever wanted to make amends with him, wasn't it unwise to piss him off entirely without knowing that it was necessary?

The next days, Regulus was uncharacteristically jumpy. At dinners, he just pushed food around his plate, dreading the things that were to come. But nothing happened. Christmas came around and nothing happened. New Year’s Eve was two days ago, still nothing. If they remembered, I would surely know it by now. Maybe I did not commit the biggest fuck-up of my life.

-oOo-

After hiding out in his childhood room until the All Star-only practices began, Regulus felt somewhat steady. He had arranged himself with the new circumstances, his revised moral-code and set of minds. His life was unsatisfactory and lonely. He was not happy but it was bearable. Practice went well enough. On ice, he could zone-out. What happened in his life was not of importance in the rink. Hockey is about hockey only. Not friendship, not family, only competition. His mantra made it through his mental refurbishment untouched.

What he thought off the ice was written on another sheet of paper.

At of the last All Star-only practices, shit went straight down to hell. The Death Eaters, filling up for Regulus and Severus to practice certain tricks, were in very good spirits. Regulus felt uneasy at the sight of them, huddled together and sneering. Then, he saw it. He looks happy, in love. His brain supplied while looking at the photos before it caught up. The caption, the comments. Regulus went numb, froze on the spot, barely realising he stopped breathing. Things seemed to happen around him but he wasn't part of reality anymore and only snippets penetrated whatever fog surrounded him.

"Thanks for the hint. I finally got the worthless faggot." Severus smirked and threw him an overexaggerated wink while turning to his stall.

His mother called, she was clearly drunk and kept ranting about the shame of Sirius' abnormity gone public and how furious their father was. He didn't bother to really listen but was certain there were no words of support for his brother or concerns about Sirius' feelings. Sirius, who was thrown into the most hateful part of the internet, who just wanted to play hockey and love who he loved, now having his private life on display for the public to rip apart. Their parents, apparently, did not know who let it slip but Regulus was sure, if they ever found out, he was in for more than a black eye.

He desperately wanted to reverse time, make it unhappen but he knew that this was not an option. This was reality.

I messed up. Everything. Je suis désolé mon frère... I am so sorry brother The typical sarcasm and snark usually accompanying Regulus thoughts were long gone.

Mumbling something about extra laps, he turned back to the rink. Nobody said something, nobody came after him. They did not care and that was just what he needed. He ran laps until he was barely able to stay upright, head swimming, thoughts racing around but impossible to grasp, the weight on his chest suffocating. In the shower, Regulus collapsed on the floor. Sitting on the cold tiles, he was breathing hard as remorse, fear and shame mingled together to an unbearable sort of pain. Tears were running down his face, breath only coming in hard chopped sobs.

Weak - disappointing – undeserving of affection - a meagre replacement, just a spare - not good enough - not fast enough - not strong enough - not worthy – unlovable.

These words kept spiralling in his head as he shoved his hands into his hair and pulled hard. His eyes fell on a shattered bottle beside him. Regulus was desperate to make his brain focus on something else, anything to make it stop. He grabbed the bottleneck and rammed the busted end into his thigh. Regulus did not feel the pain. Everything went blank as he watched the blood pour out of his leg and mix with the water on the floor, shower still running.

The silence brought some peace but something Regulus could not grasp felt off as he continued to watch his blood run down his thigh.

#Sweater Weather #lumosinlove #the spare #regulus black #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Death Eaters

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flowerspecial · 4 years ago

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“I’ll always come back to you” and “You said it was me and you forever” with Jackson

Dating Jackson was amazing, he was the sweetest person in the world and treated you like royalty. But having said that, there were parts of the relationship that were extremely difficult to handle sometimes. He was constantly jetting off around the world, meeting all these amazing people and creating amazing memories. Meanwhile you were stuck at home, under so much stress from life, it was easy to come to the conclusion that you maybe you two were too different to be last. You couldn’t help but feel like he was living the life that everyone envies, while you were being left behind and living the life that everyone was trying to avoid.

After a very stressful day, you walked into your home and threw your bag onto the floor. You took your shoes off and stomped your way over to the sofa where you fell onto it and lied down. You began to rub your temples to try and ease the pounding headache that had been present throughout most of the day, and you closed your eyes. Not being able to find solace in sleep, you decided to scroll through social media on your phone. But your mood quickly turned even more sour as you saw your boyfriend’s latest instagram posts. He was at some sort of event with GOT7, he was smiling widely to the camera and they were all hugging, clearly having the time of their lives. The post straight after was a photo of his latest gift from one of his sponsors. You didn’t mean to get jealous, heck Jackson has worked bloody hard to get to where he is, but you can’t help but feel envious when he is able to buy the whole Cartier store just for fun, while you struggle to pay for basic essentials like food. The thought of you two being from two different worlds was becoming harder and harder to ignore, and you couldn’t see what you brought to the table in your relationship. You felt like the mile stone around his neck, and you just didn’t want that feeling anymore.

Before you truly comprehend what you were about to do, you rang Jackson with a heavy heart and waited for him to answer.

“Hi baby.” He said as soon as he answered. You could hear the happiness in his voice, and you knew what you were about to do would destroy all of it. But you thought that this would be best in the long run. You knew that he should be free.

“Hi Jackson,” you began, taking a deep sigh. “I think we should break up.”

“I’m sorry what? Is this some sort of prank? Did one of the boys set this up?” Jackson spoke very quickly, a habit of his when he panics or is nervous.

“No Jackson it’s real, this relationship isn’t working so I think it’s best if we end it now.” Your tone was cold and stone like. But you needed this conversation to be over before he finds a way to change your mind. You could hear sniffles from the other end of the call, and your heart ached at the thought of Jackson crying.

“Baby please, you can’t do this to me.” Jackson struggled to get his words out as he gasped for air. He felt like all the air had been knocked out of him. “You said it was me and you forever.”

“I know I said that Jackson, but we are too different. I can’t keep feeling jealous of my own boyfriend. Every time I see you succeed I don’t even feel happy for you anymore, because my thoughts are clouded with my own misery of how awful my life is. It’s not fair on you if I despise you because you have everything I haven’t.”

“Then let me give you it!” Jackson practically shouted down the phone. “I will give you the world and more if you let me, you know that. It’s you who won’t let me buy you a new house, or a new car, or help get you a better job. I want to make your life better but you won’t let me!”

“Don’t you understand Jackson?! If I let you do all those things for me, I’m nothing more than a gold digger. I need to make my life better myself.” You were growing increasingly frustrated with the situation, and before you said something out of spite, you ended the call without a second glance and threw your phone on the ground.

After the phone call with Jackson, you decided it would be best to block him off everything. You needed time to build yourself up again, you wanted to prove to yourself that you could make your life better. Jackson had his ways though, his latest music would all have a similar theme of heartbreak and pining after lost love. He would send flowers to your house, not that you accepted them, you’d end up handing them out to anyone you saw.

Thankfully the whole experience wasn’t in vain though, as you did manage to make your life better. You focused on your studies, graduated with honours, and you even managed to get extra shifts around school so you were able to save that little bit of extra money. You worked hard, and it paid off. Sure your life still wasn’t as luxurious as Jackson’s, but you no longer resented your own. You were finally happy.

Your graduation had come around quicker than you anticipated, and as you walked off the stage after taking your diploma, you were greeted with a familiar face.

“Jackson?” You asked, as you looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

He handed you a bouquet of flowers as he stood closer wanting to close the gap between you. “You know it’s funny, I’ve been all over the world more times than I can count, I’ve met some amazing people and have made so many great memories. But I’ll always come back to you.”

You smiled so widely you could feel your cheeks hurt. You took the flowers from him, and placed the other hand on his heart. “Good, because I’m never letting you go again.”

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 blurbs #got7 fluff #got7 imagine

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maverick-guy · 4 years ago

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2012’s successor, quarantine life, the Philippine government, and everything else in between

To begin with, 2020 seemed dreamlike – this year was somewhat a clash of heavenly entities and hellish forces. The universe was not kind to us this time. Doing activities and routines outside were put to a halt, but with humans' confinement in their houses, it made our situation worse. 2020 has been a fast yet long year, and we may all feel that time now is linear.

Allow me to borrow a line from the 1972 film Grease: This is the life of illusion, wrapped up in trouble, laced with confusion.

Most would agree that the words above sum up the year 2020. An unfortunate series of events have taken place – from the Australian Bushfire crisis, the Iran-US conflict to earthquakes in Mindanao and the eruption of Taal Volcano in Batangas – and these events have transpired in the first quarter of 2020. It seems like a frightening state to begin the year.

Afterwards, life was starting to be okay. People were adjusting with initial solutions to problems and ready to start anew, but coronavirus emerged. Reports say the first local coronavirus case struck in January – and due to a rise in positive cases, collective fear transpired in March, thus declaring coronavirus as a pandemic.

During the enhanced community quarantine (ECQ) in March, changes were relatively minimal since people could continue their businesses at home. But some of which lost their jobs resorted to starting food businesses or grieve because of said situation.

It's funny yet disturbing to witness that the government officials thought of matters that are supposed to be "important", but negate the needs of ordinary citizens. There were also debates about the enforcement of travel ban during the first quarter of 2020, but to our disdain, it was never taken seriously. In the end, we suffered a lot from their gambit during people exclaiming for assistance.

People get nervous each time the government transitions to the loosened GCQ. Businesses, travel, and movement imposed some restrictions, but there's the liberty of people to go out and do [unimportant] stuff. Some boomers also mentioned that this pandemic is a divine intervention, telling us to step up our faith and keep praying until we see the hope of day. So weird to think of.

As time passes by, everyone has set and bat their eyes on social media. With boredom and temporary pleasure, the rose of TikTok dance challenges has become a trend, along with experimenting DIY recipes and snacks. The creation of support and humorous Facebook groups has also been a craze, helping us cope while in quarantine by sharing memes, tips, tricks, tutorials, and advice according to members' inquiries and concerns.

Though these temporary distractions made us somewhat feel on edge, social hurdles increased such as unemployment rates. A few lucky corporate employees are compelled to the transition to work from home; and for students to continue their education online. Some were not ready for this sudden change of lifestyle as they may lack the resources and mental capacity to keep moving forward. Along with financial issues inflating, hopes and dreams feel deteriorated.

2020 did not feel the need to stop, as it delivered more than we ever expected. There is the shutdown of ABS-CBN, the demise of George Floyd, hence advocating the socio-political movement #BlackLivesMatter, and the implementation of the Anti-Terrorism Bill, as it being unconstitutional inflicted dangerous implications towards the society.

Throughout the ber months, people thought of celebrating the holidays is something we all looked forward to, yet another shooting incident caused by the police emerged. Jonel Nuezca, an off-duty police officer, shot his two unarmed neighbors, Sonya and Frank Gregorio, due to a heated discussion over right of way and the use of a boga. The untimely shooting incident emerged on social media, along with netizens expressing their protest with the acronym A.C.A.B (All Cops Are Bastards), and the hashtags #StopTheKillingsPH, #JusticeForSonyaGregorio, among others. These phenomena struck us of the social realities we ought to face.

Not to mention some of the heart-breaking deaths of celebrities this year: NBA legend Kobe Bryant and his daughter Gianna, actress and singer Naya Rivera, and YouTube vlogger Lloyd Cafe Cadena, made us feel disposable. Netizens can’t help but spit these words with spite: GRABE KA, 2020!

Once a new year has come, people always claimed that it would be their breakthrough. 2020 was the most anticipated year for redemption, but unexpected turnovers left us clueless on what’s in store for us in the following days, dominating anxiety and resentment. It is then claimed that this pandemic may change our lives forever.

People could go all night, overthinking about the simplest and pettiest stuff. With chaos going on, the utmost priority should be safety, security, and survival. One's daily routine felt timid, hence the desire to feel free again. People are now forcing themselves to perform their duties and just call it a day.

No one gets ready for a pandemic. There may be warnings beforehand, but it isn’t the ordinary citizens’ fault – it’s the government’s accountability to look after. As much as possible, I do not want to sound overly political, but the government’s incompetence affects the rise of numerous COVID cases each day – why plenty of Filipinos still suffer and plenty of then-employees remained jobless.

It’s a good thing that searching for new ways to thrive is an innate feature we acquire. However, I also do not want to glorify our resiliency, as being a Filipino is commonly construed as “resilient people.” If there comes a similar situation in the future, people should use their “resiliency” to stay at their homes, and be careful at the very least. But one thing that needs to be changed is the decision-making and planning of our government officials. The birth of our chaos came from them, so it shall end from them.

We are close to bidding farewell to 2020, yet the glimmer of hope seems far away to be achieved. Ambiguity lingers as we ask ourselves “What does 2021 have in store for us?” Are there people still looking forward for more pains and unfavorable events and perceive them as a leeway to unlock the tool of growth and our power to keep moving forward? Are we still going to settle for the bare minimum and keep our “resiliency” intact?

With all these points elaborated, this now begs the question: did the world really end in 2012? Or these unfortunate events are just unusual to us and we are, more or less, capable of taking action to undermine our demons?

#blog #thoughts #opinion #reflection #quarantine

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renaxwrites · 5 years ago

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Eleven

.05 - Girl Almighty

synopsis: the number Eleven had always appeared in milestones of your life. it was a constant, and you didn’t know why. but you would soon find out when you study abroad in japan and meet Him.

pairing: tsukishima kei x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death, depression

masterlist: here :)

a/n: this honestly was such an endearing chapter to write. we finally learned what happened in y/n’s past, and her bond with mizuki grows strong. also, for this chapter and the next, I’m doing a lot of cultural research to try and incorporate it in the story, and it feels really cool to be exploring the culture! hope you guys enjoy this one 🥺💕 yes I cried at one in the morning finishing this and what about it

previous || next

Her light is as loud as as many ambulances as it takes to save a savior.

Sleep. School. Practice. Home. Repeat. Soon, you were nearing the end of September without even knowing it. As the weeks had flown by, the tension between you and Tsukishima had only grown. Only, it wasn’t a ‘bad’ or ‘awkward’ kind of tension. It was more like a ‘something-is-happening-between-us-but-neither-of-us-know-what-it-is-or-how-to-address-it’ kind of tension.

As if the universe was tired of this ‘tip-toeing around each other’ crap, a special event was coming up that was definitely going to stir the pot. The Harvest Moon Festival.

“Tsukiiiii! Are you excited for Tsukimi tomorrow?” Yamaguchi teases. Tsukishima knowingly groans.

You look up from your camera, contemplating whether you should keep the last shot even though Tanaka photo-bombed it. “The moon-viewing? You guys do the festivals here, right?”

Yamaguchi nodded. “Yeah, it’s kinda ironic, isn’t it? The festivals usually fall around Tsukki’s birthday, so we usually do a joint-celebration! But this year, it’s a little earlier, so we won’t celebrate his birthday at the same time, but it’s still exciting!”

Tsukishima peers down at your camera, pressing the delete button faster than you can react. “Shouldn’t you know about it? You are Japanese, right?”

Pettily, you recover the photo from the recently deleted section. You were going to delete it anyway, but you just wanted to spite him. “I did celebrate, but I’ve always wondered how much more authentic it would be to celebrate it in my mother’s home country. It sounds like a lot of fun!”

Yamaguchi realizes you haven’t gone to the festival before, so he cheerily invites you to come along with him and Tsukki, to which Tsukishima replies, “My mom would probably force me to drag her along anyway. Might as well.”

His statement and tone implied that he didn’t want you to join, but you felt his gaze on you with a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes.

You agree, but are quick to come to a devastating realization.

“But I don’t have anything to wearrrrrr!” Cue two clueless-looking boys not knowing how to react.

Upon hearing distress, Yachi comes dashing to your rescue. “Y/N!! I heard your cry! I’m actually going shopping tonight for a new festival outfit, did you want to go with me?” She really was a savior at times.

You throw your arms around her in gratefulness. “You’re an angel! I would like nothing more than to accompany you! I’ll just text Mizuki to let her know where we’ll be…”

Yachi ponders for a moment. “Actually, do you think she would mind coming? I don’t want to bother her at all, but my mom’s staying late again, and I like having an adult’s second opinion…”

Fortunately, Mizuki was more than happy to bring you two to the downtown shops later that night. Once practice was over, you and Yachi bid your farewells to the boys and met up on the street corner, with Tsukishima trailing behind. Mizuki began to wave from under the streetlight, letting Tskishima know that dinner was already made, and that you won't be back too late. And so, the three of you were off!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Although your current location was quaint and serene, downtown was the opposite. There were endless amounts of shops, stands, and everything in between. Shoppers were bustling about, kids were frolicking in groups, and the smells of various foods wafted in the air. The energy in the downtown district was definitely lively and contagious.

Mizuki took a deep, content breath and turned to the two of you. “Alright ladies! I have a few shops in mind, so we can stop by those first just to ease into it. Let me know if you need anything! If you want to even stop for a snack, I certainly won’t hold you back, not when it smells as good as this! Alrighty, let’s goo!!”

The first shop was very quaint, but you were a bit clueless as to what you should be looking for. Good thing Mizuki and Yachi was there to guide you! You apparently were in search for a yukata, a more informal traditional robe that is similar to a kimono, but not quite. Great! Now that you knew what you were on the hunt for, how were you supposed to decide what color or pattern? Every shop you stopped by were overflowing with more patterns, colors, and combinations than you can possibly imagine.

By the third shop, Yachi had already picked hers, and was currently being fitted. She chose a radiant yellow, decorated with white carnations and pink morning glory flowers print.

“You look like a ray of sunshine, Yachi! Yellow definitely suits you,” you and Mizuki shower her with praise, causing her to flush pink.

You laugh as you admit, “This must be what prom dress shopping feels like, haha.” The two ladies curiously look at you, and you’re quick to explain how back at home it’s a huge deal to find the dress, since prom is the most anticipated formal event for American high schools.

Needless to say, the pressure of finding one that spoke to you began to worry you. You bring your hand to your locket. Mizuki noticed this, then eyed your locket for a brief moment.

“I think I know the perfect one that would go along with your locket. We’ll stop by once Yachi’s fitting is done,” she offers you a warm smile to calm your nerves.

Once Yachi’s outfit was purchased, the three of you head to a shop that was in an easy-to-overlook nook. The second you step inside, you’re greeted by two eager women, ready to meet your requests. You browse, but begin to feel a bit of gravitation towards the back of the shop. The invisible force brings you to a halt. In front of you is an absolute masterpiece.

The overall color was navy blue, as dark as the night sky above. But the design was what made it stand out. The yakuta was sprinkled with constellations, and thousands of silver stars were scattered around the fabric. Around the waist was a deep red obi, a wide silk sash designed with light moons and stars lined all around it.

You were speechless. It was perfect.

Mizuki looks over and finds you with your jaw slightly agape, looking entirely mesmerized.

She turns to the women and tells them, “That’s the one for her.” And they get to work on your fitting.

During your fitting, Yachi went to buy a couple of snacks for you to share, leaving you and Mizuki alone, with the two women helping. You raise your arms over your head as they measure your waist. Suddenly, you catch her drying what looks to be a couple of tears.

“What’s wrong, Mizuki? Are you alright?”

She tenderly looks over and chuckles, wiping another tear that managed to escape.

“It’s nothing, really. I just always wondered what it would be like to go dress shopping with a daughter…” she looks down at her hands, wringing them deep in thought. “My sons are wonderful, and I wouldn’t give them up for anything in the world, but I always loved shopping with my mother, even if it was buying a mere hair accessory. Her calling me beautiful... and, I don’t know...it kind of felt like that for a moment.”

She looks up at you and smiles. “You haven’t been with us for too long, but I speak for both myself and my sons when I say we are grateful that you’ve been led into our lives.”

You jump off the pedestal and tackle Mizuki into a tight embrace. “I’m glad I came, too.” She hugs you back, and you look at each other, and suddenly burst into laughter at your tear-stained faces.

“Alright, that’s enough baby tears. Now, get on up there so we can see the finishing touches,” she gently urges you. Just as the last details were being made, Yachi comes back, just in time.

She does a dramatic gasp. “Y/n, you look beautiful! It’s like all the stars wanted you to wear them!” She almost drops her snack out of pure shock, but manages to catch it.

Mizuki helps her carry them and agrees. “She’s right y/n. It also matches your locket color perfectly. I can see that it’s important to you, so it’s like both a piece of home and a piece of here going hand in hand.” Even the two women who fitted you were quick to offer their praise.

You look down at your outfit and tenderly put a hand on your locket. “It’s perfect.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The three of you drop Yachi off at her house, and once you were sure she was safely inside, you and Mizuki begin your trek home. There’s a comfortable silence between you two. The stars in the sky were glistening and drowned you in tranquil light.

Mizuki thoughtfully looks over at you. She’s carefully thinking of something she wants to say.

“Is there a story to the locket?”

You stop in your tracks and look up at the stars twinkling above you. The moon’s serene appearance gives you the courage to respond.

“This is the first gift my parents gave me, on their official wedding day. And now it’s the first and last thing I look at every day. It’s one of only things remaining from them that I own.” You look over to find sad eyes.

Mizuki’s eyes were not viewing you in the sense of pity, which you have always gotten for the past year. Instead, she was looking over with the most wholesome look in her eyes, wanting to help and protect you.

That encourages you to go on.

“My mother and father went out on one of their weekly date nights. They liked to go out on Friday nights to get ice cream down the road. They’ve done it since even before they got married. It was normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You choke up.

“Almost a year ago now. My parents were on their way home. They got hit by a drunk driver. Eleven at night. I open the door to complete strangers telling me that their passing was instant, that there was nothing that could be done. November eleventh was the day that my life fell apart.”

You look up at the stars again.

“My relatives took care of me for the rest of the year. I wallowed in depression. Hardly moving, hardly eating. Hell, it even hurt to breathe. Knowing that my dad wouldn’t pop his head in my room just to tell me a joke to annoy me on purpose. Knowing that my mom wasn’t there to drink tea with me while she told her favorite childhood stories. Knowing that I wouldn’t see them dancing in the kitchen to their cheesy love song. Knowing they weren’t there.”

Your eyes are so clouded with tears your vision is extremely blurry, but you manage to lock eyes with her in understanding.

“My relatives thought it would be a good idea for me to transfer somewhere new for the start of high school. I had always wondered at the beauty of my mother’s home country. The way she would light up whenever she mentioned something as simple as the cherry blossoms floating in the breeze, or how the stars seemed to shine differently. Well, she was right about that,” you chuckle at the thought.

“So here I am, in Japan. Here to discover myself, but more importantly, I’m here for them too. I know they are always watching me from above, but this locket keeps me grounded at times when I need them the most. It reminds me of the times we’ve had. I think of the future they wanted me to strive for, it pushes me forward. I would give anything to heal the heartache, to fill up the emptiness of their missing presence. But I know they want me to be happy. It’s why I was brave enough to travel to a new place I’ve never been to, because in the end, I know I’m not alone. This locket reminds me of all that.”

More comfortable silence follows. Mizuki puts a warm hand on yours.

“Y/n, you are the bravest soul I have ever come to meet. If fate is what brought you here, then I am glad for it. You have such a bright, intelligent, endearing and determined soul. And I know for a fact that your parents are looking down on you right now and are smiling at the sight of their brave little girl persevering the odds. And there is absolutely nothing in this world that could demolish the love your parents have devoted to you. You really are special, y/n, don’t you ever forget that.”

The two of you embrace once more. You check the time, and the lateness caused the slow trek to a brisk walk back home.

It was Eleven o’ clock.

There’s something happening here. I hope you feel what I’m feeling too.

taglist: @jiminslonglostjams @fantasymirror @shewastheriot @lukes-princess @iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire @its-bnha-babe @desi-studys @shootooooo @noya-senpai-imagines @animefan7420 @anpancari @tsukkx @cadabby @thoebe-fly @it-was-just-a-ship

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishimaimagine #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #eleven

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flemnotthun · 4 years ago

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‘Who Else Would It Be?’

Chapter 4 - ‘Don’t You Know?’

We finally get to see Kate and Steve have their hotly anticipated date. Hope you enjoy lads xx

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Four days into her stay at Central Hospital, and after much begging on her part. Kate was finally discharged. Her and Steve had got into a pretty nice routine over the last few days, texting at points during the day and chatting about nothing bed to bedside chair until visiting hours were over. They had fallen into a rather sweet, platonic closeness that despite her very real feelings for him, made Kate feel apprehensive of any change in the future. It could be the trauma voice talking, the fear of the outside world which contained men that would shoot her, that caused the concern though, because there was nothing in Steve’s behaviour that suggested any danger. He would never put her in an unsafe situation, she knew that. She knew him.

Every new touch of her hand, stroke of her wrist or enveloping hug was prefaced with an almost bashful request for permission for a number of days, until Steve got the message that she was very unlikely to turn him down. “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Steve explained when she questioned him, “I want you to feel comfortable”. Kate smiled back at him, “thank you,” she said, gazing into his eyes as if they were jewellery, bursting with light and untold futures.

She was discharged on a Saturday evening. As soon as the salt-and-pepper haired consultant had exited the room after giving her the green light, Kate threw her arms around an elated Steve, who’d been at her side since 8 that morning. Despite her obvious excitement at being able to escape the torment of bustling nurses and being poked and prodded, she was hardly fit to do everything by herself, and couldn’t help feeling frustrated at the need to surrender herself to Steve’s care for the time being. Her side ached when she walked, which meant that getting about was a challenge. On the day of her discharge, it became clear just how much help she would need.

Steve was sat next to her in his chair, eyes deep in his emails, when he felt Kate shuffle out of bed next to him.

“Do you want some help mate?” Steve asked as she made her way towards the door of the room.

“Nah, I’m alright thanks,” Kate replied, growing weaker with every step, her upper abdomen twinging every time her right leg took a nervous step forward. Without any warning, her legs gave way under her, tipping her backwards towards the floor, when suddenly a pair of strong arms broke her fall and set her upright.

“Look, I know how annoying it is to not be able to do the things we always take for granted, believe me. But Kate, it’s just me. Let me help you.”

Kate turned to face Steve and nodded gently.

“Okay. You couldn’t just help get me to the loo door?” Kate asked shyly.

Steve put a sturdy arm around her waist, supporting her under her right arm and guided her to the loo and back, waiting outside as she washed up. While he hated seeing Kate in pain, having someone to look after was good for him. It distracted from the niggling temptation to just take more pills and separate his mind from his body. He loved seeing Kate fly, but it was nice to feel useful.

He drove them back to Kate’s flat after picking up her prescriptions from the pharmacy. She chose the music, tunes blasting from Steve’s Volvo like youths blazing through town in a white Fiesta. He caught a glance at the side of her face whilst waiting at the lights. Kate was undoubtedly a force of nature, albeit sometimes a stern one, but seeing her lose herself in this way made him burst with pride. She’d bounce back, just like the nurses said she would, albeit with a caveat, expressed to Steve in a hushed tone while Kate slept on the Thursday evening.

“Your friend may suffer with the effects of this trauma for a while. The two of you seem very close, and you’re going to need to be there for her when the triggers occur.” One of them had whispered.

Steve took Kate’s hand as the nurse explained the nature of the post-traumatic symptoms she might suffer.

“Hypervigilance, dissociation, flashbacks...”

He’d be there for her, Steve thought as he smiled sadly at his partner’s sleeping form.

After they managed to make it through the front door of his flat without incident, he helped Kate get comfortable on her plush leather sofa and set about making themselves something to eat.

“Pasta okay?”

“Yeah perfect, as long as you don’t burn it, I haven’t forgotten the last time”.

Steve let out a laugh as he remembered the event. They had only been working together for a few months, perhaps it was even the first time he’d come over and they’d ended up falling asleep next to each other on the sofa. He remembered thinking “what if?” that night, and remembered dismissing it, knowing even then that this was too important for a snap decision. He grinned at how lucky he was to have her in his life, both then and now.

They sat a safe distance apart on the sofa as they ate companionably in front of a late night rerun of the ‘Undateables’.

“Kate, you’re available!” Steve quipped as one of the show’s less attractive participants bemoaned their single existence.

The woman in question glared at Steve affectionately, giving him a light slap on the arm.

“Too soon?” Steve ventured.

Kate burst out laughing, Steve joining her in a hearty fit of giggles.

“I’m not available to just anyone Arnott” she scolded through her laughter.

“Even me?”

“Especially you!”

“And here I was, going to tell you just how lucky I am to have a date booked with you.”

“I bet you say that to all the witnesses”.

That was enough to have Steve spit out his cup of tea, Kate banging the side of the sofa in hysterics until her abdomen made it clear that the jokes had to take a backseat for at least the next few minutes as Steve pulled himself together.

“Ahhh!” Kate winced.

“You okay mate?” Steve questioned, returning back down to earth, his hand on her shoulder.

“Fine, just a murmur.”

Steve’s worried expression settled into contentment as Kate shifted to face Steve, his legs curled up on the opposite side of the sofa.

“So, this date then?” Kate probed. “Which underpass are you planning on taking me to? The one by the old cinema has a nice smell of piss that really enhances the whole vibe.”

Steve let out a huge belly laugh, which he curtailed before its time, if only to avoid his own stomach hurting let alone poor Kate’s. She was truly funny, which some blokes might be intimidated by, but Steve basked in, letting it wash over him.

“Actually, I was thinking about tomorrow night at Kudu, down the road from the Hare and Hounds?” He ventured.

“Sounds perfect, almost serious! What’s a girl done to deserve fine dining?”

“Don’t you know?” Steve answered with a sad smile, which Kate returned as her hand clasped his.

“Of course I do”.

____________________

The date felt as natural for the pair as working together. They ordered mocktails (both had very good reasons to keep things sober for now, besides, they didn’t feel the need to drink away any anxiety - it was there, but they leaned into it like a welcoming hot shower) and chatted about work, making in-jokes, the banter flowing between them in a glowing symbiosis of bright eyes and smiling faces.

“I love it when you’re suited and booted, Kate told Steve as he helped her out of her flat and into the lift. He’d nipped home from hers to change, which had the side effect of making this feel as if he was an unfamiliar suitor picking her up to whisk her away to an evening of culinary wonder.

“You look beautiful.” Steve replied earnestly.

Kate brushed him off with a laugh, indicating the scars on her face with her eyes raised.

Over the second course, he tried again.

“Kate,” he said softly.

Kate looked up, struck by the use of her name rather than the usual “mate”.

“I meant what I said, you are so beautiful”.

And with that Kate understood. Unlike some men in her past who she’d heard this line from, although it was often cancelled out by a sly dig at some other character trait later on in the relationship, “married to the job” etc., Steve truly meant it, and while the scars were less than ideal, if he could see past them, then she could too.

“And not in spite of your scars, or your injury, or your independence. You’re beautiful to me because of them.”

Kate was speechless. She felt almost uneasy as she sensed the shame exit her body with a heavy exhalation. Perhaps she no longer needed to be selective about the parts of herself she loved. It was at this moment that she was sure that her and Steve had hit on something between them that was just as special as their existing partnership.

“Thank you, Steve.” She whispered, blinking back tears.

“Ahhh I’m sorry, come here.” Steve reassured her, rising from his seat and wrapping his arms around her for a hug as the clientele of the restaurant stared. Returning to his seat, the meal continued much as before and by the time the dessert was finished, Steve found that Kate had reached out across the square, marbled table and curled her fingers through his.

________________

If they had been civilians, if they had been normal, they may have kissed outside the restaurant, one may have invited the other back to their’s, and they would have seen how things went. Maybe they would have seen each other again, maybe they wouldn’t. Instead, Steve guided his best friend back to the car. No kiss was exchanged until they were safely back at Kate’s, in this part of town, anyone from work could walk by any minute. No discussion was had, they both knew the risks of being seen together. After walking round from the driver’s side to where Kate was waiting opposite, Steve took hold of her hand and the small of her back as she met his eyes. Leaning her against the car carefully, so as to avoid putting any pressure on her abdomen, Steve asked.

“Is it okay if we...”

Before he had a chance to finish his proposal, Kate had pulled him by the shirt towards her with her free hand and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was chaste, but long enough for Steve to feel the meaning between them, and what they meant to each other. After they broke away Kate put her hand on Steve’s cheek, saying:

“Thank you for tonight, I had a great time.”

They would go no further tonight, settling down on the sofa together to watch crap telly and enjoy each others’ humming energy, neither wanting the night to end. Kate snuggled into Steve’s side as he gathered her close under his arm, tipping her head up for a kiss every now and then. Kate would look up at him, their eyes locking, and she would stretch her neck up, allowing her lips graze chin before Steve lowered his lips to hers. The pain medication was clearly having an effect on Kate, and she eventually fell into a deep sleep. Steve tuned his neck around to fix his eyes on where he’d stood in the kitchen all of 10 years ago, making that ill-fated pasta and thinking “what-if?” He thanked his younger, more impulsive self with a smile while he dropped a delicate kiss to the head of the sleeping woman under his arm.

“Thank you for waiting.”

#steve x kate #steve arnott #line of duty #flemnott #fan fiction #fanfic #kate fleming #katexsteve #vicky mcclure #martin compston

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