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xariaseesred · 7 months

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chapter two

FLAMES

Overview: This delves deeper into the dynamics between Keitaro and an old friend, as well as closely exploring Keitaro's complex feelings towards Haruki and his internal struggle with his own identity and past. It will include vivid scenes and emotions throughout the chapter. Through it all, you'll witness the complexities of Keitaro's temperament, the challenges it brings to the use of his "curse" which not only serves as a glimpse into his mind, but also adds layers to the dynamics between characters.

Happy reading below the cut!! ; )

The rain, as expected, cools me down enough for me to coherently find my way back to the hideaway. The library being close to the edge of the city, makes it easy to get there from the countryside that has been abandoned ages ago simply because it is impossible to grow any healthy crops in a climate on haywire all the time.

The field is, like any other part of the city, filled with all kinds of wreckage. Fun to jump around on. Although one mishap could get you impaled.

Old military run facilities were a good hiding spot. As kids we ran off to find a place and ended up at the end of a runway. A spot with three hangars built to store huge planes in. Long forgotten for the sake of flight safety with the aggressive storms and all. The hangars had lightning rods though, we could harness electricity with little to no difficulty and enough space to not feel too cramped up. Food is a little less accessible but through errand runs and with the help of the area’s security guard we get by well enough. Griffin is good security. Not good enough to rat us out, but good enough to keep anyone who’s not with us, out of the premise. A weird man with endless stories, some too extravagant to even consider true, but entertaining nonetheless. My twin sister, Kira and I practically raised ourselves, but he was there watching us leave and return with cuts and bruises or even worse injuries only he was equipped to treat. Whether or not he got questions about his bloody clothes from his higher-ups is sadly information I don’t have. We have yet to get in trouble though and it’s all thanks to him.

“Aww, the wet puppy has arrived!” Kira announces as I jump off a broken airplane wing, down to the hangar's main area. I mumble a string of mocking incoherent noises back and toss her the plastic bag of books I brought her. The oil changing of the engine she has been working on for around a week now has her undivided attention until the bag lands in her lap. She read that she had to do that somewhere but had little information as to how she was going to go about things.

“I got your books, so shut it.” I take a seat on a stool and let my head hang heavily. Her face lights up before it morphs into a frown.

“I see that, wow. What a treasure hunt you went through.” “Lose the attitude, will you? You’ve been gone for days and I don’t even get a hug upon your arrival?”

“I found nothing! How am I supposed to feel, huh? And Haruki…” My fists clench at their own accord, heating up and threatening to set themselves on fire.

“You were bound to run into him at some point, please. He owns the place, Taro.” she scoffs.

“Still hurts.” Kira places her books onto her desk neatly, then makes her way over to me in a similar manner to how one would approach a stray cat. We are twins. Two halves of a whole as our mother liked to call us. Kira is a complete polar opposite of me in almost every way I can think of. If I was in her shoes at this moment, I would not know what to do with her. Kira on the other hand has learned to take care of me the way our parents did. A little rougher on the edges, but still efficient enough to not have me quite literally explode.

Instead of talking to me anymore about what I’ve been up to the past two days, she cradles my head while standing next to me. Not without a fight though, but she eventually gets a solid hold and rests her head on top of mine, in turn letting my hair soak her favorite hoodie that’s been through a lot with her. Occasional small holes, oil stains, spray paint, markers, even food since she is unintentionally a very messy eater, and all of which she has not been able to wash away despite hours of trying. Kira holds onto it despite that , and refuses to get rid of it. The hoodie getting wet is the last of her worries. She holds me until my hands stop glowing like the earth’s core and my heartbeat reaches a somewhat normal rate.

“We need to redo these, buddy.” Kira grabs one of my locs between her fingers then brings them all backwards in a soothing manner. My mood is still sour but it does the trick and sleepiness crashes over me like a tidal wave. She scratches my scalp gently with blunt nails, occasionally massaging my head to ease any tension that might still linger.

“You can do it if you want, I’m way past the point of caring.”

“I see that,” she snickers, tugging on my ear playfully.

“Shut up! I just wanna shower and sleep. I feel disgusting.”

“Do that then, I’ll heat up some food for us.” She doesn’t make it far before I see her stop in her tracks in the corner of my eye, facing towards the entrance of the hangar. I look up to see what it is and she turns her head back to me, giving me an apologetic look before occupying herself with her new books. She just told me to go shower and she would prepare food. Why did she change her plans? Aiming a glare back at the entrance, the lightning outside lights up a shadow that grows bigger by the second.

My flight instincts are on high alert now. Although Kira does not seem all that worried, this occasion is not a usual one. If Griffin is planning to pay us a visit, he will send us a message through the crappy radio on our dinner table. Other than that, it really is just me and my twin sister. Whoever decided to waltz in here without warning must be lost. Gone miles away from where they should be. And by the looks of it, Kira is not going to help me figure it out.

“Kira, what the hell? You expecting someone?” There is no sign of alertness in her stance which keeps me in my seat. All she gives me is a shrug and a tight smile, completely lacking eye contact.

“This has nothing to do with her. I’m just here to give you your bag, Keitaro.” Ah, the shadow speaks. I can feel my heart rise up into my throat and I choke on whatever threat I was going to throw at him along with his name in a weak whisper. Haruki Nakajima is here in flesh and blood. God must have really had it out for me this week.

“Here. I’ll leave.” I do not know what he might pick up from my feelings, but I am frozen in place while he places a strap from my bag into my hand that is getting hotter by the second while I myself feel like a brick of ice. His face is still covered in a shadow from his hat so it’s hard to make out any expressions. He steps back even further from Kira’s desk light, seeming completely out of place. Kira lets out a heavy sigh behind him, knocking me out of my trance and gaining Haruki’s attention.

“Welcome, Haruki,” she smiles, pulling out a chair for him to sit in. “Wanna eat?”

“Can’t say no to that,” he says shyly, walking over to greet her. It has been a while since the two of them saw each other since I’m the only one who ever goes to the library. I leave them to go to the bathroom. Bag grabbed tightly. I never noticed I left it at the library, its content is far too important for such a mistake to occur.

Once in the confines of my own quarters, I dump the bag down on the mattress and fall down on it right after like a sea star; exhausted. The water from my poncho slowly seeps through the sheets, making me jump up at unimaginable speed. I am not changing those today.

The shower washes away days of sweating through busy streets and awfully crowded bars, miles of walking in untraced and treacherous forests and hours spent in different libraries looking for something I am not sure even exists. A way out. It is starting to sound like a fairytale. A sick and twisted one. I close my eyes and wish someone has not been trailing me. I also thank Kira and her smarts since she figured out how to get us hot water since it is easing out nearly all the tension in my body. My muscles feel like newly puffed pillows. Kira is a genius, really. She likes to do stuff constantly, build things, and create new ways to solve problems. Me, I am just there to give her books so she can do the things she wants to do correctly because I am the one who usually knows where to find things. An acquired skill I am starting to doubt heavily these days.

The hot shower, as relaxing as it is, does not wash away any of my worries however. Our parents are still gone, I have not found a way off this cursed land and people like me still move like prey in this predatory society. Haruki? Well…he still reminds me too much of what I am. Also cursed.

I avoid Haruki every moment that occurs like a plague, but it only keeps my head stuck thinking where I should go next. Only criteria is being somewhere he is not. It becomes an exhausting practice after nearly ten years of doing so. It is too draining so I have subconsciously resorted to being cold whenever I am forced to interact with him. Icy, snappy replies to any innocent question or suggestion he might have, in hopes that he stays away from me on his own. But since he is a saint who cannot do anything of the sort even if it is to protect himself, it results in him bringing back my bag and sharing dinner with us in our home. It went as wrong as it could go. Griffin is going to have to explain himself too for that matter.

I hear Kira and Haruki chatter in hushed voices through the door of my quarters and decide to block it out for the moment and really take my time getting dressed and getting my head out the gutter. My eyes catch the bag on the mattress figuring I should probably check that everything is in there. Notebooks, maps, bandages, cleaning alcohol, extra clothes, and wetland shoes. All check. I stare at the contents for a moment longer and a new fear arises. Haruki would not open and read my journal, would he? The page marker was pulled out entirely from the journal. Silky, wide black string laying flat across the other contents of the bag. If Haruki is the cause of that, the man is 1: unbelievably klutzy and 2: aware of what I’m always doing in his library. If he told anyone, it would not take long before I was either thrown into a deadly prison or just killed. Not to mention he is indirectly mentioned in my journal one too many times for me to be comfortable with the notion of him having read it.

Hunger and unmatched exhaustion is enough to push the concerning thoughts away. It is enough for me to brave up and leave my quarters and set foot towards the already set dinner table. Haruki is seated timidly by the table watching Kira bring the last plate to the table with his hands fidgeting impatiently in his lap, cracking a few knuckles every now and then. I always hated that but it was the only sign of nervousness one could ever get from him. His face is always covered and he never was one to talk about himself so when we were children, I grew to have a little appreciation for the knuckle cracking as gross as it is. He still managed to form a soft smile and laugh at Kira’s silly little jokes. The scene felt uncomfortably familiar. Enough to tug painfully at my heart. After the shower, the anger was replaced with sadness and that sadness only grew at the sight of my twin sister and once best friend in our home.

“Oh, Keitaro!” Kira announces once she sees me. I stopped moving long ago and had to once again bring my thoughts back down to earth. “Please come eat, we waited for you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” I mumbled under my breath, taking a seat opposite her. She rolls her eyes at my statement before she starts serving each one of us the soup she heated up. When she gets to mine, the radio goes off in statistics.

“Guys, incoming.” It was Griffin’s voice being heard through the speakers. I let out a humorless breathy laugh before I say a quick prayer and dig into my soup. He has really put himself in deep shit now. Kira laughs a little too. Haruki on the other hand, is visibly confused, eyes going from me, to my sister, then to the radio, several times.

“Don’t worry, it’s just our friend,” Kira chuckles, giving him a quick pat on the back. His head twitches upwards slightly in registration to this information, but he remains still. Not at all surprising since we all pretty much live in hiding and “friends” are considered a luxury in this day and age. Haruki does not pry any further. He just closes his eyes for a few seconds before he too starts eating.

We sit in relative silence. I know Kira hates it and I cannot really do much about that. Reality feels so distant, it almost feels like I’m being fed the soup in front of me and my head is in the clouds without anything solid to grab onto. I am lost in thoughts without end until Griffin, the failure of a security today, makes his entrance.

“Evening, kids!” He beams, arms out in a warm greeting. I refuse to hear any of it and he has to know.

Within just a few moments, I have the old man pushed back out and around the door we indeed keep open to not die of heat. It might rain and thunderstorm all the time but the heat is next to unbearable. I stand in the rain with a solid grip on the man’s collar, gritted teeth and hands threatening to start glowing again. ‘What has happened has happened‘ is what Kira would say but here is the thing, I don’t want it to happen again.

“He had your bag, buddy, you know how you get about that thing,” Griffin stutters nervously, letting out a laugh in an attempt to ease the situation. The idiocy is laughable. An excuse like that could kill him right here on the spot.

“That’s enough to get him past you?” My eyes squint in question and my jaw is starting to hurt. Griffin better think about his future before he utters anymore nonsense.

“Okay, okay! Just–” His words are cut off and my glare goes down to my grip that has already tightened far too much, it has nearly cut off his airway. I loosen it reluctantly to let him speak. I feel like choking the stupidity out of him but I do not have the energy for that at the moment and his face was getting a concerning red color. Lucky for him, I am not planning on ending his life.

“Okay, thank you. Oh heavens,” he breathes, nursing his neck with a careful hand around his throat and the other kept steady on his knee. I watch him Catch his breath, almost starting to feel a little guilty until he shrugs in a careless manner.

“Spill!” I say feeling impatient. Griffin straightens himself up with great effort and drags down the zipper of his windbreaker slightly.

“You know, he had your little brand thingy.”

“Our little brand thingy,” I laugh bitterly. “I’m not gonna ask again, Griffin.”

“Keitaro, who else knows about it except you people?”

“You.”

“Fine, but the ominous guy had it on his stomach so he showed me and I thought it was okay since he had your bag and all, and you’ve been gone for like two days buddy. I assumed he knew you. Your bag is like your most priced possession. You won’t even let me anywhere near it.” He finishes his frantic rant with a sigh before he tries to fruitlessly look for a seat out here.

“Never again, man. Never.” He nods quickly and puts a hand to chest dramatically. I push him back into the hangar feeling pretty much done with everyone and everything.

“Anyone ever tell you that you should respect your elders?” Griffin utters over his shoulder.

“Don’t test me today if you value your job, old man.” He is lucky I cannot shoot laser beams out of my eyes.

We finish our food in silence while I once again disappear into a haze. Gone enough to not notice Kira dragged Griffin off to her engine to show him something. It is routine for her to do so but I wish she would hold off on that at least until Ki left. Instead she went through with it and the two of us were trapped in an awkward silence. How do you even begin to explain to someone that they are a reflection to the monster you are? How do you make them stay away from you when back in the days you considered each other a complete set together. How do I erase years of pain I have caused?

“Keitaro?” I hear from beside me, almost a whisper and could easily have been missed if it was not for the fact that we were seated in nearly dead silence. I look up at him, but he has his head down and face covered as usual, making my heart’s acceleration halt for a second. “I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable,” he goes on to say, his head falling even lower. Is he really sorry if he stayed for dinner knowing that? “I just wanted an opportunity to talk to you.”

Silence falls over us again. We should talk. That is the right thing to do. Being alone with him is overwhelming though. Agh, I also want to know if he even touched my journal. I should really stop writing stuff about this self-assigned mission I am on. Someone is bound to see it.

My head hurts from all this thinking. It is pulsating like a second heart, driving me absolutely mad. I stand up, grabbing Haruki by the arm a little farther away from Kira and Griffin’s loud chatter back and forth. Haruki steadies himself on his feet and tries to relax himself under my skeptical gaze that hides insecurity and years of pent up sadness.

“Go ahead.” Just in that moment his unit rings loudly between us, interrupting whatever Haruki had right at the tip of his tongue. He looks at his unit, biting his bottom lip so hard it almost looks painful. I hesitate to put a calming hand on his shoulder which he notices, backing away in reflex. As much as it hurts, as much as the sharp sting in my throat is begging me to shed tears in front of him, I stand my ground and let him leave to take his call. In that instant, the voices of Griffin and Kira stop, gaining my attention. Kira knows better than to ask any further questions so they carry on with their rambling.

It is a relief to see that my sister is not burdened with excruciating thoughts of escaping all we know for a dream outside the barriers of our imagination. Yet she tries her hardest to come up with plans, plan B:s and sub plans to keep my mind at ease. Griffin accidentally became her idea-dumpster and I thank higher power every day since he seems to enjoy it. Our father would have loved it too, but he died years ago. The inner emptiness in Kira’s life was so prominent she almost died from lack of food and sleep. Hope was crucial in her life and since our father could not provide her with that any longer, I had to take that responsibility and join our minds to form a plan that would take us to this supposed “better” life; off the Island. Griffin took the dumpster role as the elder here and he has silly stories to tell from his unbelievably eventful life as a soldier in the Islands top force, before he got booted for excessive drinking. The stories make Kira laugh though, and I could not ask for much more.

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redpandaramblings · 3 years

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Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 7

Part 1 Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship, Bakugou is a dumbass but so is y/n

Where we left off-

You couldn’t do this anymore.

No more.

The fireworks illuminated you as your grip on the railing tightened until your knuckles turned white.

“Katsuki?”

“”What?” He asked roughly, barely glancing your way.

“Let’s break up.”

What?

What had you just said?

Bakugou looked up, wide eyed, to stare at his alpha. His beautiful Y/N. The hand in his pocket gripped a small jewelry box tightly. He hadn’t been paying full attention, instead he had been in his own head, practicing over and over what he was going to say. But then you had said… He couldn’t have heard right.

“What’d you say?” He whispers gruffly.

Bakugou watched intently. You were staring up at the sky, though it didn’t feel like you were actually seeing the fireworks as they boomed and flashed.

“I… It’s time for us to break up, Katsu. You know it, I know it. This…” You gestured vaguely between the two of you, still not looking at him. “This hasn’t worked in a while. A long while. Years, if we’re honest.”

That… That wasn’t true! Why were you saying that? Bakugou stared at you, shocked. His eyes raked over you, and for the first time that evening, he actually paid attention. You… You didn’t look good. Your outfit was beautiful, and your hair was perfect. But now he noticed the slump to your posture, and the way your shoulders were tense and hunched. How long had those dark circles been under your eyes? Bakugou startled as he realized that whatever was bugging you clearly wasn’t just a today problem. Something had been going on for a very long time and he hadn’t noticed. How had he not noticed? He moved to inch closer to touch you, to hold and comfort his alpha. You held up your hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“It’s alright. I know. I’m sorry I’m saying this today, that wasn’t what I had planned. But there wasn’t a good time before, and you were clearly so miserable tonight…” You blew a heavy breath out, glancing at the omega before looking away. “It’s time. Probably long overdue.”

Bakugou made a strangled little sound in the back of his throat as he stared, wide eyed. What was happening? This couldn’t be real. You were his alpha. His Y/N. Maybe… Maybe if he was honest with himself, things hadn’t been great when he had started out at being a pro hero, but that was over now. It was okay now. Things had calmed down. You were meant to be together! Katsuki took a step, reaching for you again. “Y/N, what are you saying?”

You took a step back, away from him. “It’s over, Katsuki. It’s over and that’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. It would never be okay!

“I know things might be awkward around the apartment,” you continued, “but it’s only for a little while. I’ve been offered a job, and I’ve taken it. I’ll be moving in a month. I’ll try to stay out of your hair until then.”

Bakugou’s mind screamed. He was frozen, his mind refusing to process what was going on. You were leaving? Leaving him in every single way? Where were you going and leaving him behind? When had you planned all this? What had happened for him not to notice his alpha was slipping away from him? Katsuki whined quietly. You winced and looked away.

“I’m sorry for saying this all tonight, but it needed to be said. I’m sorry.” You glanced his way, giving him a watery smile. “Goodbye, Katsu. I hope you find someone who makes you happy.”

With that you turned and walked away, your pace increasing until you had broken out into a run. Katsuki remained where he was, sinking down until he was kneeling on the peer. He stared after you until he couldn’t see you any more. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t… He pulled the small velvet box from his pocket and opened it with shaking hands. There was the ring he had picked out, just for you. From the light of fireworks that still flashed overhead he could just barely make out the inscription that he had asked for. “Forever.” Bakugou bit into his fist to muffle his howls of anguish.

-------------------------------

It was strange, packing up. So many artifacts of your life that you have walked by and lived with every day without paying attention to you were forced to hold and consider. Take, toss, or give away. Some stuff was easy choices. You had packed your books up, and sorted through your clothing to figure out what you were going to take with you. But some things were harder than they should be. Like this. You held the unopened toothbrush package in your hands, turning it over and over. You had bought it years ago, when you had just moved it. It was for Katsuki if he ever stayed the night. And here it was, still unopened. It would be a waste to throw it away, unused. But you couldn’t stand to take it with you. You threw it into the give away box with an aggravated sigh. You had known this was going to be difficult, but it was even worse than you had anticipated. So many things in your living space reminded you of the blond that you were leaving behind. The little orange knick knacks you bought because they reminded you of him. The first edition runs of his very first hero merch. The dusty omega nesting kit that was hidden in the back of your closet. There were so many artifacts of your former plans and dreams, and each one hurt in a new way. The smell didn’t help.

You were certain you were imagining it, but lately it seemed like your apartment always smelled faintly of burnt caramel. It was a major reason you stayed away whenever you weren’t packing. It made you feel guilty, even though you were certain you were doing the right thing. He didn’t need you clinging on to him. He didn’t want you hanging on, and he had made that clear time and time again. And now? Now you had to figure out how to live in a world where Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t your sun and moon. You’d figure it out. Somehow. If you could just get that damned smell of caramel out of your nose.

You threw half empty containers of food and spices into the trash with more force than necessary. Maybe if you got rid of the food you had laying around the food smells would go away. You still had three weeks until you’d be moving, but there was enough savings in your account that you could eat out and live on the basics until you were settled in your new place. Or you supposed you could cook at Denki’s. You had offered to help him pack since his schedule was busier than yours. He was going to put in his transfer notice any day now.

You stilled and stared out the window without really looking at anything as you became lost in thought. It was something you hadn’t really processed before. The first time you were going to be moving in with someone, and it was going to be Denki. And it was going to stay Denki for the rest of your lives, or that was the plan at least. It was strange to think about. You could picture it though. Picture Denki and his grin. Imagine chaotic nights with Mario Kart and junk food. A slight blush tinted your cheeks at how easy it was to imagine what your future kids could look like. It wouldn’t be a bad life. It would take time. But you think the two of you could make it good. The friendship was there, and strong. Maybe, with each other's help, you could both let go. Heal. Maybe even come to truly love each other with time.

You glanced at the clock. It was almost time for you to go to work. You planned on giving them a couple more weeks. There honestly wasn’t much to do this time of year, but it got you out of the apartment, and that was something you really needed right now. You glanced around, deciding to leave your sorting as it was for now. In just a couple minutes, you were out of the apartment and on your way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten minutes after noon. You should be gone by now. Bakugou had listened, pressing his ear to his door. He cursed the building’s soundproofing when he couldn’t hear anything. He was desperate for any sign of you. But he didn’t quite dare confront you. How could he face you? In the span of an evening you had turned his entire world on its head. He had thought you were good. That the two of you had been as solid in your relationship as you had been when it had all started. But then you had said…

You had…

You were…

A whine creeped out of his throat.

The past week hadn’t felt like reality. He’d gone to work on autopilot, focusing on the job in a way that didn’t allow him to think of anything else. His friends hadn’t started asking questions yet, thanks to how busy work had been. Bakugou never thought he’d be grateful for an increase in villain activity, yet here he was. But when his shift was over and he had to go home, that was when your words replayed for him over and over again. He spent hours curled in his nest, barely leaving. He still ate, drank, shuffled to the bathroom. He cared for himself enough that he could still go to work without anybody questioning too much. The only other thing he spent any time doing, he wasn’t exactly proud of, but he couldn’t stop himself. Here he was, going to do so again for the fourth day in a row.

Bakugou crept out of his own apartment. He knew you were long gone from the building, but his guilty conscience kept him moving quickly and quietly until he reached his goal.

Unlocking your apartment was easy. He wondered if you had forgotten you had given him a key when you had first moved in. Maybe you thought he had forgotten or hadn’t cared. Bakugou used to think he understood you pretty well. He wasn’t so sure anymore. He crept in, glancing around. More of your things were gone.

Bakugou whined quietly as he walked further into your apartment. The air stank of burnt and bitter chocolate. If you were so upset you smelled like this, how had he not noticed? He began carefully sifting through the piles that appeared to be for donating. He grabbed a couple old shirts that smelled strongly of you. He tried not to let it hurt when he noticed one of the shirts was an old tshirt you had stolen from him years ago. He knelt on the floor just staring for some time. This was real. You had broken up with him. And now you were getting rid of your memories together and were going to leave. He might never get to see you again. Might never smell your scent again. Or worse, see you with someone else. Smell someone else’s scent on your skin.

Katsuki didn’t fight his tears as he grabbed as many things as he thought he could get away with without it being noticed. In minutes he was back in his apartment, desperately tucking everything into his nest. The smell might last him a while, but not forever. He curled up tightly, pressing his nose into a place where your scent was strong. He couldn’t do this forever. He didn’t know what he could do. As much as he hated to admit it, it was time to ask for help.

And that is all for this time, my darlings! More is in the works and hopefully will get to you much sooner than this part did. Katsuki is starting to pull his head out of his ass, hopefully it's a trend that will continue. TAGLIST- @yzviea, @not-a-pushover, @thelilypieforever, @kumihayu, @aomi04, @ladybakugouu, @luajosephdun-blog, @hakunamatatayqueen, @my-thoughts-are-weird, @left-alone-yuki, @officialtrashbusiness, @lonelyheart-clubband, @katsuki-cait, @moonwritters26, @animexholic, @kyrah-williams, @emilymikado, @wolvesblaxe360, @ficklemcselfish, @helena-way07, @fandomsaremylifesposts, @baby-bakuhoe, @sukeraa, l@ucypevensie11, @idk-sam, @katsuki-cait, @weirdestlove, @sasa-slayer, @anime-for-live, @kaidousimp, @bluesdustyflames, @vitheria, @milktea0208, @maristaymulti, @whatdidshesayyy, @memesbyeloise , @fandomsgotmefucked, @killmehe, @shy-panda02 , @skylan666, @missmolliemoo, @misssugarless, @arcticsakura, @queenondeezmatatas, @lordmypantsaresocool, @bluesdustyflames, @am-198, @hornelittleweeblet2, @joonie-centric

Just a reminder, if you want tagged make sure you have the ability to be tagged turned on; and I’d have to be informed if your blog name changes! Cheers, Darlings!

#reader insert #bnha reader insert #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #reader insert angst #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #omegaverse #omega bakugou #alpha reader #multi part fic #denki #fake dating #fake engagement #part 7

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kaunis-sielu · 3 years

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Fire Dogs: 6

Steve pulls Grant’s hand off of your arm then steps in between you and Grant.

“Fawn are you okay?” He asks softly.

“I’m okay,” you assure him and he turns his gaze onto Grant.

“I thought I told you that you were to leave her alone.” His voice is low and furious, “And not only do I find you here, harassing her, putting your hands on her but you’re also telling everyone that she’s an Omega even though you know she doesn’t want people to know.”

“What’s it to you?” Grant sneers and you almost pity him. Steve, externally seems calm but you can feel the rage.

“You’re going to leave Fawn alone. You’re not going to tell anyone else she’s an Omega, you’re going to think she’s a Beta and if you do come across her you’re going to treat her with the respect she deserves.” Grant seems to be fighting the Alpha command, he grits his teeth and sweat starts to form on his brow. You know he won’t beat it though, your knees have practically buckled at the power behind his command. You see why they call him a True Alpha.

“What if I don’t?”

“I’ll kill you. Omega protection laws say that as her Alpha I can defend her in anyway I might need to.” He warns and while Grant pales Steve continues, “Now, you’re going to apologize to Fawn, you’re going to leave her alone and I’m not going to have to remind you again.”

“Sorry Fawn.” You nod then Steve turns him around and gives him a little shove and Grant meanders away from you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Steve asks turning toward you.

“Yea, are you?” When he looks at you quizzically you clarify, “you were so angry.”

“You could tell?”

“I could feel it.” The slow smile he gives you causes your heart to race.

“Oh Honey,” he breathes pressing his forehead to yours. You can feel his breath slide across your cheek and you sigh softly as you close your eyes. Something wet hits your cheek and you pull away from Steve and look up at the sky as the clouds break.

You’re practically drenched in a matter of seconds,

“Rain! Steve rain!” You cry tilting your head back, a smile stretched across your face as the rain pours down on you. Finally, you’ve been waiting for this rain to knock down the fires and it’s finally here.

But no more fires means no more Steve. Your smile falls off of your face as quickly as it bloomed. “Rain.”

“Honey,” Steve says looking concerned.

“No more fire means no more you.” You choke out and he gently gathers you in to him.

“Shh, we can talk about it. This might not knock out all the fire.”

“But if it does,”

“We figure it out.” He soothes, “dance with me?”

“What?” You ask not moving your head from where it’s pressed to his chest. He takes your left hand gently in his right and puts your right hand up on his shoulder while wrapping his left arm around your back then he starts to sway.

It’s soothing, the way he slowly sways and hums. The rainwater is cool as it falls but you find that you don’t care at least not until it gets chilly.

“You wanna head home?”

“Yes, can, can you sleep with me again tonight?”

“Yea Honey.” You round the car and slide into the passengers seat before Cooper licks your face.

“Thanks Coop. You good boy.” You tell him and Steve starts the car then heads for home. Steve reaches over and offers you one of his hands, which you happily take and leave in your lap. It’s been nearly three weeks at this point and you’re not sure how you’re going to feel when he leaves. You’ve heard that it can be excruciating for an Omega to be without their Alpha but Steve technically isn’t your Alpha.

It’s still raining heavily when you get back home. You and Steve cook dinner together after he showers and you change into something dry. As you eat you talk a little about your day, how your drawings were approved and that printing will start soon. Steve is proud of you, a welcome feeling after Grant.

Your heart sinks when Bucky comes home early.

“Fires look like they’re all out.” He says with a grin and you have to blink away your tears before either man notices. Cooper does notice though and he comes over to you putting his head in your lap. You pet him absentmindedly while half listening to Steve and Bucky talk. They talk about the fire, the rain and when the subject of their trip home comes up you have to leave the room. It makes you too sad to think about them leaving.

You take Cooper out, grabbing the umbrella that you keep by the door on your way out. You don’t fool yourself and think that Steve hasn’t noticed your change in mood or the tears gathering on your eyelashes but you need a moment. You let Cooper run around in the rain, one of his favorite things to do, and you let a few of the tears fall.

You’re so conflicted on what to do. You’re 99% sure that Steve is your Alpha. The one Alpha for you, with how he makes you feel, and how he treats you and the fact that you can feel his emotions are all signs that he’s probably your Alpha. You’d be completely thrilled if he didn’t come from New York. If he wasn’t the True Alpha of his pack. But none of those things are true. He is the True Alpha, he lives in New York City, and you live here.

“Hey,” Steve says quietly from just inside the house. “You okay?”

“I don’t know.” You admit not looking at him,“I wanna be but I don’t know.”

“Wanna talk me through it?”

“I’m just really conflicted. I know in my gut you’re my Alpha, but you live there and I live here and I like it here. I like the smallness, the woods and the mountains. I can’t ask you to move your whole pack, and shouldn’t you being my Alpha be enough? Why isn’t it enough? Is there something wrong me with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you.” Steve assures you, “all of your feelings and thoughts are completely valid. If it makes you feel any better I know in my gut you’re my Omega. I’ve known since you opened the door. The pack and I will do whatever you need to be happy, no Alpha command needed.”

“I can’t ask you all to move here. How big is your pack?”

“All together around fifty.”

“Fifty! Steve! That’s huge!”

“Why don’t you come to New York with us? You and I can go upstate? See if we can find somewhere that’s close enough to the city but quiet enough for you?”

“I’m scared Steve.”

“Of what?”

“You know the last Alpha I had. What if this doesn’t work and I’ve moved my whole life to the other side of the country?”

“Do you own this place?” You nod, “then keep it. If it doesn’t work you still have a home but if it does we have a vacation place.”

“Would you want me to stop taking my suppressants?”

“If you want to. I know it’s easier to have kids when you’re not on them.”

“You’d want kids with me?”

“I want it all with you Omega. I want the bonding. The marriage. The family. I want all of it.” You’re floored by his admission you finally turn toward him and throw an arm around his neck pulling his lips to yours. Steve is gentle when he pulls your body flush against his, he’s warm and solid against you.

“I’ll come to New York with you. Are you sure you could live outside the city?”

“For you? Yes. Easily and happily.”

“Can we bring Cooper?”

“Of course. Are you gonna be alright traveling with the three of us?”

“Yea. I think I can manage.” You tell him with a smile, “when do you want to leave?”

“I don’t know, I’ve got to talk to Sam and Bucky. I’m sure they’ll wanna get back as much as I do but we have to be sure the fires are out for good. Maybe three days?”

“Okay, you might need to talk me down again. Get me out of my own head.”

“I can do that.” He promises, “you’re sure you want to go?”

“Yes. When I think of being left here without you it fills me with such dread. But I might get nervous about meeting your pack and about being on the east coast in a huge city.”

“The pack is going to love you. You don’t need to worry about that. Can I check your ribs again?”

“I suppose. Come on Cooper!”

“He’s soaked.” Steve says and you glance over at a very muddy Cooper.

“Yea, he loves the rain.” You’ll need to give him a bath before bedtime, luckily he loves bath time almost as much as he loves the rain. “I’ll have to give him a b-a-t-h. He loves them and will lose his mind when I say the word.”

“Ah.” Steve gives you a little half smile, “want help?”

“Only if you’re ready to get drenched again.”

“Bring it on.”

“Hey Cooper, wanna take a bath?” You say and as promised loses his mind barking and dancing around you excitedly. You let him in and he bolts downstairs.

Steve helps you give Cooper a bath and as you predict you’re both completely soaked by the time you’re done.

“Who got a bath? You two or Cooper?” Bucky teases as you and Steve go past him in the living room.

“Cooper, give him a hug.” You tell the dog who runs over to Bucky and still soaking wet jumps up into Bucky’s lap and throws his body onto Bucky’s torso.

“Awe Cooper!” You and Steve laugh as Bucky debates if he wants your dog off of him or if he’s just going to let it happen. He finally surrenders and hugs Cooper back as you and Steve head upstairs.

After Steve checks your shoulder and ribs he seems pleased with how you’re healing. Cooper sleeps with Bucky instead of you and honestly it’s kind of nice that you and Steve have the bed to yourselves. It would be even nicer if you could relax.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you tell me about the pack?”

“Can’t sleep?” You hum softly in response. So you drift off to his voice telling you about his pack.

The next three days are busy, you get things together for your trip to New York. You use as much of the perishable food as you can and bring other stuff to the food shelf in town. You pack up all of your book stuff, some of your clothes and whatever you’ll need for Cooper. You and Steve decide that you’ll drive your car with Cooper and some of your stuff then Sam and Bucky will drive the truck with everything else that you want to bring out and their stuff.

It’s weird locking up your place for what could be the last time. But you think that you’re ready, Steve is watching you out of the corner of his eye while he talks to Sam and Bucky. He gives you this sweet smile when you come walking down the sidewalk, Cooper on your heels.

“Ready to go Omega?” Steve asks and you nod, both his friends share a pleased look then both head for the drivers seat. A tussle breaks out, Sam getting Bucky into a headlock but Bucky is able to muscle his way out of the headlock and throws Sam to the ground before jumping into the truck with a triumphant yell.

“Is this going to be a bad idea?” You ask an unamused Steve.

“They’ll be fine. I’m more annoyed with them, I just know they’re gonna embarrass me on this trip.” He says as you walk to your car together, he opens the back for Cooper then buckles him in and joins you in the car.

“Maybe I should’ve ridden with them to hear the stories.”

“Absolutely not.” Steve says lightly, “besides you wouldn’t really leave your Alpha all alone would you?”

“Not unless I have to.” You admit and he takes your hand. He presses a kiss to the back of it and gives you a soft smile. You’d let him mark you right now if he was a normal Alpha you realize with a start, your anxiety spikes at the thought.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just, this is big ya know? I’ve been this fiercely independent fake Beta for like 18 years or so? And now I’m leaving that life behind.”

“You can still be an independent fake Beta.”

“No I can’t,” you admit, “I didn’t renew my prescription. I have a week left.”

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Hello i would kill for some awkward Connor attempting to comfort Chris during training please and thank you

Follow-up to this piece from yesterday

CW: Pet whump, implied whump of a minor, bruising, some dehumanizing language, BBU, facility whump, creepy comfort, The Moral Standards of Monsters, some implied conditioning due to ableism (blink-and-you’ll-miss-it)

“Hey, Manning.”

Connor looks up from his lunch - he’s at his desk in his training room, a sandwich, bag of chips, and bottle of his iced coffee set out in front of him while he finishes up paperwork from the last trainee’s fitness reports - and sighs. Fucking Luke goddamn Petrus. “Yeah?”

For a second, his stomach flips. Linda swore up and down that the complaint would be anonymous, and Connor isn’t the only person in the hallway who has brought up the screaming being… irritating… but still.

Luke is Director Renford’s favorite in a big way, her loyal henchman, and he can make a handler’s life a living hell if he wants to.

Luke leans against the open doorway, giving him a bright smile. Above the expression, though, Luke’s blue eyes stay cold as ice. Like the Director, Connor thinks sometimes. Two fucking peas in a pod, and Connor’s always a little bit on the outside.

Lately, though, he’s been feeling kind of grateful he’s on the outskirts. The Director’s approval is something everyone works for, but having her focus on you too long and too thoroughly sounds as terrifying as her anger.

“I just got called up to a meeting with Renford.”

Renford. Like they’re buddies. Like he’s equals with her. Connor keeps his mouth shut, but he wonders how the Director would react if she knew he calls her Renford when she’s not right in front of him. “Good for you. I don’t see why that should affect my lunch break.”

“The meeting could last a few hours. I know you’ve got the afternoon off from trainee work. Would you mind keeping an eye on one of mine? He’s just out of a week in solitary, so he’s needy as fuck.”

Connor perks up a little at that. Needy trainee and unscheduled afternoon sounds like just the pick-me-up he needs today. “He need any training work?”

“Nah. Do whatever you want with him.” Luke gives Connor a wink. “He’s got some top notch fucking flexibility. Just saying. You can twist him into pretzels. Tell him he’s being good and he’ll do it all himself. Kid’s eager as fuck now that we’re past the halfway point.”

Kid?

Connor swears internally but keeps his expression carefully the same. “What do you mean, kid, Luke? Wait a sec-”

“I’ll bring him in, hold on!” Luke’s already gone from the doorway.

Connor has a sinking feeling of realization that Luke didn’t just randomly decide to leave a trainee with him. He must’ve figured out who put the fucking complaint in. And he knows that Connor hates the screaming, if he knows that.

Which means…

Luke reappears, and sure enough, the little redheaded trainee who is the cause of all the wailing and sobbing is right beside him.

No weights hanging from his hands this time, but there are deep red marks around his wrists and bruises at his upper arms just below his sleeves that suggest he’s done plenty of training work this morning, whatever Luke says.

Jesus, this kid is eerily beautiful. Pale skin, flushed in the aftermath of tears, with a smattering of freckles all over like constellations of stars. His hair’s that rare shining strawberry blond, with eyebrows pale enough to make him seem faintly inhuman. Connor wonders exactly which piece of shit with a thing for teenagers put the order in.

He wants to make sure he doesn’t vote for the guy.

Not that Connor Manning votes.

But maybe he’ll start, and then start purposefully voting for someone else. That's probably way more effort than he'll ever put in to anything that isn't work or Socks, but it feels kind of nice to think about it.

The trainee keeps his eyes carefully down on the floor. Connor notes he’s not even wearing the shock collar any longer - just your average band of black leather, buckled at the side, no padlock. Not only not being shocked, or not needing it, but already far enough along not to try and remove his own collar.

“Luke. I’ve told you how I feel about the underagers-”

“Yeah, and I’ve told you that you can judge me when you're an angel, numbnuts. You’re not better than me. You just have different victims.”

“Oh, the Director would have a shit-fit hearing you call the trainees victims.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m the only one who really grasps exactly what it is we do here, Manning. I just also happen to enjoy it. Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life, right?"

“Go fuck yourself, Petrus. I enjoy my job just fine.” Why is he defensive about this? Connor doesn’t quite understand the surge of irritation within him. Why does he give a fuck what Luke goddamn Petrus has to say about anything, anyway?

“Yeah, for now you do. We’ll see how it goes. I’ve been at this gig for a long time, I see the ones who flame out, and you’re one of them. Anyway, I’ve got to go meet with Renford, I’ll be back by three. If you get tired of him, just put him on the mat and I’ll pick him up when I’m done.”

“Yeah, okay.” Connor frowns, pushing himself to his feet. “I do like my job, Petrus.”

“For now. Bet I’ll be the only person here totally unsurprised when you quit one day.”

“I’m not going to quit.”

“I’ll bet you a thousand damn dollars you do, and I’ll raise the bet to fifteen hundred that it’s over your fucking conscience making a reappearance.”

“Don’t have one."

Luke just sighs, and gives Connor a patronizing little smirk before he turns and leaves. The trainee looks over his shoulder to watch Luke go, pleading with his eyes but not saying a word. The door shuts, and Connor and the trainee are alone.

Connor clears his throat, picking up the sandwich but finding he doesn’t really want it any longer. “What’s your number, trainee?”

The boy’s eyes snap back to him, briefly, before they drop to the floor. Connor notes with vague professional detachment that they’re red-rimmed. He’s been crying again, but then, when isn’t this fucking trainee crying?

When he’s screaming instead, Connor’s thoughts answer him.

God, he wishes these trainees didn’t get to him so much. He can’t talk to anyone about it, either, word will get out Connor Manning has regrets. Questioning the company is a good way to find yourself on the wrong end of a shock collar.

“223499, sir,” The boy says. His voice is low and soft, and each number and word is deliberately placed, as if he’s carefully pacing himself as he speaks. “Designation… Romantic-”

“Yeah, I knew that already. That’s all Luke does.” Connor leans his chin on his hand, looking the kid over. There’s solid muscle in that kid, he thinks, legacy of whatever life he lived before. It’s wasting away under the carefully calibrated malnourishment they’re all subjected to, but the memory of strength is in there, still. An easy, unconscious grace that didn’t have to be taught. “You’ve already done training work today?”

Those green eyes flash up at him again, nervous. Frightened. The boy shifts from foot to foot, then goes still. His fingers twitch before he pauses that, too. Connor watches it all with a kind of slightly repulsed interest. “Yes, sir. But… Handler Petrus said that… that if you want, you can-... can test me-”

“I don’t want,” Connor says heavily, cutting him off with a gesture. The boy’s mouth snaps shut instantly. “Not in the mood.”

There’s an expression of genuine confusion - when is a handler not in the mood? - that flits across the boy’s face. It’s a look of such comedic bafflement that Connor ends up laughing, shaking his head. He doesn’t even put his sexy, dark laugh on, but just snort-laughs naturally, before he walks over to the kid, watching him pull into himself, shoulders hunched.

“Relax, kid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The kid’s nose wrinkles. It’s adorable. “But… all you do… is hurt us.”

Luke’s fucking technique, Connor thinks. Luke’s trainees don’t forget anything he’s taught them, to be sure, but they never quite learn how to act like they’re in love with it, either. Connor can turn out a trainee who genuinely thinks he’s in love. Luke turns out trainees who hate everything they can’t stop themselves from doing.

Some perspectives are into that, he supposes. Connor thinks he’d rather have the act.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to do that today. Come on,” Connor says, and his voice gentles a little. “I’ve got plenty to keep myself busy with. Why don’t you lay down on the mat and get some sleep while I work?” He puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder, feeling him trembling slightly through the thin cloth of his white trainee t-shirt. The boy moves when he’s nudged, carefully stepping across the room, tense as a wire about to snap.

“Are you-... are you going to, to, to, to, um-” The boy flinches back from an expected punishment when he stammers. "Silence is, is better than stammering, try again, silence is better than-... try again." The kid mutters to himself, takes a deep breath, tries again. "Are you... going to... give me a pill?"

Connor pulls his hand back, frowning. Now it’s his turn to look confused.

What the fuck is even going on with this kid?

“Nah. I don't even keep them in my training room. No worries, kid.” He pitches his voice low, soothing, reassuring. “The only thing I intend to do is finish up some papers, go take a smoke break outside, and then come back and get set up for my next rounds at seven before I head out. This is a real break. Okay? I’m not even interested in whatever it is Handler Petrus is doing with you. I just want to do my job.”

The kid looks at him. He’s almost always seen him drugged out of his gourd, barely able to focus on anything not right in front of his face. Right now, though, there’s a sense that the boy is considering his words, actually able to think about them. “Yes, sir. I can-... I, I can lay down?”

“Yeah, go for it.” Connor waves his hand again, moving back to his desk.

“Thank you, sir.” The kid’s gratitude is pathetic. Connor has to give Luke that, he does know how to make a trainee say thank you for just about anything. Connor’s method takes more work to get to that than Luke’s.

But Connor doesn’t have to drug his trainees to do it. And he doesn’t work with kids.

Shit. Maybe I am going to wind up with a conscience. Handlers get fired over that.

Or worse.

After a pause, watching him go, the kid kneels down, then lays down on his stomach, making as much contact with the heated mat as he can. There’s a soft exhale, something almost like contentment. Connor watches those tensed, probably painful muscles slowly relax. His bare feet start to rub against each other, back and forth, back and forth.

There’s a blanket nearby, and the boy hesitantly grabs at it, pulls it over himself. Breathes out, eyes fluttering shut as warmth surrounds him utterly for what’s probably the first time in a while. Or at least warmth that doesn’t come with certain conditions.

Connor’s eyes trace the line of the boy’s jaw - there’s a bruise there, too, like a thumb pressed too hard into delicate skin. Coppery eyelashes lay flat, long enough to just brush his cheek. His hair falls over his forehead and eyes.

It’s like looking at a fucking painting.

“Jesus, you’re pretty as hell, aren’t you?”

The boy’s eyebrows furrow, briefly, but he doesn’t open his eyes or pull back from the mat. He curls up tighter under the blanket, disappearing up to his chin.

Connor turns back to his work, filling out a questionnaire. He’s still working at it when he hears, just barely, the boy’s soft reply to his question.

“I, I, I wish I wasn’t.”

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

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sofoulandfairaday · 4 years

Text

The ultimate How I Met Your Mother Finale rant

I know this has been done before, and I know I'm several years late to the party, but I don't care, so IN THIS ESSAY I WILL tell you about why this finale takes the spot as the second-worst finale in TV show history (because Game of Thrones is still, to this day, unbeatable, and it will probably stay like that forever).

But first, a little context: I've just finished binge-watching HIMYM. This binge has been going on for three days straight (my final exam of the semester is in a week and I should be studying, so the fact that the last few days were a partial waste of time makes me so mad). Second thing: I already knew how it would end, and yes, kids, it does ruin the show for you. It ruins the show so much it makes your blood boil when you rewatch certain scenes, but I will get to that.

You might want to make yourself a drink because this is a complete list of all the reasons why HIMYM's finale sucks - I'm warning you, it's gonna be looong.

It completely invalidates the entirety of season 9

This is one of the complaints people most often have with this series, and I have to agree. It would have been so much better if the last two episodes never existed, and they just showed Barney and Robin dancing at the reception after walking out of the chapel, Ted noticing Tracy and then the platform scene. "And that, kids, is the story of how I met your mother". Cut scene. Honestly, I don't get the hate people give to season 9, barring the last 2/3 episodes, especially since season 8 was so much worse (except for a few honourable mentions, like The Robin). S8 was slower, less funny, and less deep, and while the authors took a risk by making s9 happen in the span of a weekend it paid off: they took their time introducing the character of the Mother to the gang and fleshing her out. They make sure to highlight all the little ways in which Ted and Tracy are perfect for each other, and even tie up loose ends, like with the Slapsgiving episode, that was a filler but it wasn't boring to watch (although it may be problematic for different reasons, I'm not Chinese, so I can't say for sure if it's cultural appropriation or just the authors making fun of a particular movie genre).

Some episodes were arguably great: "Daisy" was amazing, and that whole fight between Marshall and Lily was so realistic and well thought out, "Sunrise" was extremely important for Ted's character development, same goes for Tracy and "How Your Mother Met Me", "Bedtime stories" was impressive, "Rally" was incredibly funny and proved once again what a beautiful character Barney Stinson is, so much so that even Robin never has doubts that he (the guy with the biggest commitment issues on the planet) will bail on her before the wedding, and says to Ted that "he always comes back". Daphne's character is super funny and the right amount of annoying, the shenanigans of the gang are well thought out and all of the characters (not just Barney) complete their arc in this season. The last two/three episodes butcher that.

Marshall and Lily

Marshall and Lily, arguably the world's most solid couple, are the only thing this God-awful finale gets right, especially Marshall, who is my second-favourite character, that finally gets everything he deserves. But what about Lily? They never mention her career after Italy, and I refuse to believe she goes back to being a kindergarten teacher as if her year in Rome meant nothing. I also refuse to think she becomes nothing but a political wife, the equivalent of Zoey, but without saving the world. We know she has three kids, but her postpartum depression is never really talked about much and they definitely had the screentime to delve into it.

Barney

Where do I even begin? Barney Stinson is, without a doubt, the best character in this series, the glue of the whole gang. I think the message they were trying to give is that, since his trauma stemmed from the absence of a father figure in his life, he could only truly heal by becoming a father as well. People also say that n°31 had to stay just a number, because who could match up with Barney Stinson? First of all, I call BULSHIT on that last point, because Robin wasn't the only girl Barney could have ended up marrying. I used to think that too, but it's just not true: that is the equivalent of saying that Barney was incapable to truly love a woman and commit to her, even after all the development he got, and that he only got one shot at love in life, and that's it. This goes against the point the showrunners try to make by having Ted and Robin end up together AND by having Tracy get with Ted in the first place: "it's never too late, you always have another chance at love, etc." And, let's face it, Barney and Robin are legendary, but Barney and Nora (hell, even Barney and Quinn!) were pretty good together too.

Second of all, if they wanted to give Barney a kid, they could have easily done that, before Barney married Robin. Barney's "redemption" starts when he gets with Robin the first time, hell maybe even when we meet James for the first time: Nora, Quinn, finding out who his father is, the episode dedicated to the lies his mum told him/finding James' father, him getting to know his own dad, etc... those are all steps along the way. The s9 episode where Barney accepts the relationship between Loretta and the reverend proves how far he's come. So why not give him a daughter BEFORE he proposes to Robin? Have him cheat on Nora/Quinn with n°31, giving him a relapse, and having him get closer to Robin while struggling to be a dad to Ellie. That would have been great.

Or, you know, don't give him children. What's the point of burning the Playbook if you're going to have him write the second edition? What's the point of having him do a complete 180 in the last few scenes and acting like having a kid is the only thing that makes him change? What's the point of doing that when the show spends entire episodes berating Marshall and Lily for "changing too much" when they have a kid?

Also, Barney is the "challenge accepted" guy. He loves his wife so much, he spent years wanting her, and then he gives up because there is no WiFi in his hotel. How does that make any sense at all? This is Barney Stinson, the "I will fly out to San Francisco and buy Lily a plane ticket", the "I will steal every girl from my best friend just to save him for Lily", the guy that wrote the Playbook (it takes effort to pull those plays off), the guy that planned for weeks his proposal, the guy that waited years to get back at the man who stole his first girlfriend, the guy that makes every night legendary... are you telling me that that guy becomes the equivalent of a bored housewife instead of living his best life while travelling the world? Come on. They don't even try to make it believable.

Ted

While watching seasons 7 and 8, I felt that Ted was becoming the worst character on the show: he was boring, depressed, basically had no good storylines, the whole thing with Victoria was pointless and inconclusive (and the whole "stop being in love with Robin" was completely out of character for her), but whatever, we could have accepted that because it passed the message that two people could be good together, without being soulmates - which, by the way, renders the TedxRobin ship pointless, because they were right for each other, but Ted and Tracy were soulmates. Him being hung up on Robin in the latter seasons is almost pathetic, and the thing he does with the locket is insane, not romantic - BUT I will say this: it can be seen in two ways, depending on who's watching. I personally like the two as friends, so I see the whole thing as a "Dahmer" situation, but I get the people who see it as a "Dobler" one and see what he did as a grand romantic gesture.

The problem, though, is that the whole TedxRobin ship gets pretty old, pretty fast: it's an annoying on-and-off thing, that should have ended with the locket. Because, yes, Ted was in a dark moment, yes, he was probably depressed, yes, he thought Robin was his only shot at happiness, but he changes during season nine! He spends entire episodes letting go of Robin, including the one where she transforms into a balloon and flies away. Ted is the good guy, ultimately. He is the guy that is genuinely happy for his best friends. In one of the deleted scenes from the finale, he meets Robin years later and says that he's so happy with Tracy he never thought about Robin in that way anymore. All of that gets thrown in the trash. Why do that? To use a Harry Potter metaphor, Ted is Severus Snape, while Barney is James Potter: the former loved the girl of his dreams with all his heart, even to the point of creepiness, but they weren't meant to be together.

Robin

This, along with the next point, is the worst of all: Robin is the worst character of the entire finale. Her relationship with Ted in season 2 is wonderful, and I say that as a full-on Barney/Robin shipper. There was never a problem in their relationship, apparently, but they then break up because they have an "expiration date" and ultimately want different things in life. Except that Ted is not her soulmate. The only times when Robin wants Ted are the times where (1) she can't have him because he's either trying to move on or (2) the times where it's convenient, for example when they become roommates again and they solve their disputes again. Around that time, we see perfectly that Ted had moved on and that the person getting hurt was Barney. It's one thing to see Ted and Robin in the finale as two people picking up where they had left off after they dated. But this is not the case.

In season 7, we have the exchange that should have put an end to any and all TedxRobin drama, and that completely invalidates whatever the writers wrote after that about the two of them: Ted declares his love - "I think you know how you feel about me now. I don't think time's gonna change that. Just tell me: do you love me?" To which she answers "No". And Ted also says later to Marshall, that he's "happy because he can finally move on".

What a load of crap.

Getting over someone is hard, believe me, I would know. And, oftentimes, it doesn't happen until we find someone else to love (and from the moment he meets Tracy, there is no one else for Ted). But by giving Ted feelings for Robin after this moment, it takes away from the beauty of it- because it's one of the most heartbreaking feelings in the world when you declare your love to someone and they don't love you back. Ted and Robin were both honest at that moment, and it was the last genuinely good exchange between them. After that, during season 8 they try to show us Ted trying to get over her (and failing) and in season 9 Ted getting over her completely. This is also weirdly paced because at the beginning of s8 both are in happy relationships with other people and there's no jealousy (which is good, because at least they weren't toxic) and they seem just friends (when Robin leaves Nick to go see him in the middle of the night, she implies that she would do it for any of her friends), but after Ted breaks up with Veronica because of Robin everything is weirdly coated in this sort of tension between the two: first Ted loves her, but she doesn't, so when he helps her by taking her to Barney's proposal ("which means my best bro in the world has given me his blessing").

And, by the way, every time they try to paint Ted as the guy that comes through for Robin after this moment, they dumb down Barney's character. And still fail to make Ted a better guy than him (see: the carousel in Central Park).

Yes, Robin and Ted have some chemistry, but it is nothing compared to what Robin and Barney have. Every time Robin is jealous of Barney, it doesn't seem like a stupid whim, just because some other child is playing with her toys (except, perhaps, during The Robin). Robin and Barney's relationship would need a whole other post, and the next time I rewatch the series I will write down all the things that make them perfect for each other, but, to me, the biggest difference between the two relationships is this: in season 6, when she's not dating either one of them, Ted accuses Robin of never making him feel needed while they were together, whereas Barney praises her for it. Those are elective affinities: that's what Barney and Robin have, and what Tracy and Ted have.

Barney and Robin have more or less the same arc: they both get over their fear of commitment and they do that with each other. Time and time again, we are told that if they're ever going to settle down, it would only be with the other. The first time they break up is honestly so stupid, and even when they are broken up, they are the best of friends, which also makes Robin's behaviour in the finale look so stupid. The way the two of them fit together is unparalleled, both in a romantic and a platonic way.

Think about it: Robin makes Barney a better man, while she makes Ted a worse one.

Also, the whole point that there are different seasons in life for everything gets thrown out the window: apparently, Ted and Robin (that were a couple that ultimately worked in their young twenties) are the same people in their forties.

But that's not even the worst part. The worst part is that the two final episodes butcher Robin's arc as well: episode 23 starts with Lily saying "I want this girl to be in our lives" and we know Robin never made other friends outside of the gang, because she didn't need to, and now she walks away from everything because of fucking Ted?? This is saying "hey, Robin was only in the group for Ted, who brought her in, and now she leaves because he's not her puppy anymore". Robin was the one that was eternally indecisive between Ted and Barney and you're telling me that three years and many many life experiences later, she's still not sure?

The point of her story is learning how to get over her fear of commitment, learning how to be there for her friends (there's an entire episode dedicated to that, and it's the one where Lily's pregnant and we meet Robin's ex-best friend in Canada), and how to balance her job and her life. Also, the way her character is treated is un-feminist and un-progressive: she becomes Ted's consolation prize. She is passive throughout s9. She cannot, ultimately, win the modern-day struggle most women have and balance out career and love life, so her true life, her "happy chapter" begins after she has already accomplished everything she wanted to and she's free for Ted. She doesn't even go back to him, she just the prize the main character wanted for all his life and only got in the end because his wife died (ONE SCENE, people, ONE SCENE!). Also, this makes Tracy the "broodmare" that gives him the kids he wanted, and his "happy family" experience before he goes to be with his one true love.

The mother

This. This makes me so mad. One whole season spent on building up Tracy's character, just for it to go to waste. It would have been so easy to screw her up, but she is hands down the best thing about s9. She's the perfect woman for Ted and the episode shot through her perspective is the sweetest. By the end, I liked her more than Robin and Lily. She was the perfect addition to their group, she fit together with them in a perfect way, and they show us the biggest moment of her and Ted's life... for what? To have her die in a few sentences? And I don't care if they shot a funeral scene, I don't care if the finale was supposed to be 40 minutes long, because, in the end, it wasn't. The scene where Ted meets her is the second most beautiful one (after Barney's proposal to Robin) and the climax of the whole show, but they ruin her... and for what? The chemistry Ted has with her, he has with no one. The joy she brings him, the way she understands him, is unlike any other. I am sure that one of the reasons they killed her off was the shock value and I hate it.

I cannot stress this enough: Tracy makes Ted a better person. When he's with Robin, Ted is "the nice guy" in the most selfish and narcissistic version of the trope. When he's with Tracy, love comes easy to Ted. Also, the scenes between the two of them are arguably the best Ted scenes of the show.

The kids' reactions (ugh)

It's not really what they say- it's the way they say it. The end of HIMYM was not supposed to be funny, even though the show is a sitcom. It was supposed to be bittersweet and beautiful, because it's the end of an era, and the writers must have known that. So, Ted finishes telling his story, reveals to the audience that their now-beloved Tracy is dead, and the reaction is: "No, ahah, you totally have the hots for Aunt Robin" (their words, not mine). Like, what the actual fuck? I cringed when Penny said that. It's tasteless and not fun at all. Even if it has been six years... It's still your fucking mum, show a little bit of sadness at the thought of her.

The reason the show ended this way

What makes me especially mad is that I know for a fact that the reason they went with this ending is that it was the original one, always intended for the show, from season 2 onwards. And, if you watch it right after s2, it makes sense. But if you consider the eight years that passed and the massive character development, then no, it's not the best possible one. So many things hadn't been decided yet back in s2, especially about Barney, Ted, and Robin, and I hate that they didn't dare to scrap their work. This ending probably had sentimental meaning to the writers, but authors have to do what's best for their characters, not themselves. It's like with GoT, in a way: I think that the authors were all too aware of the impact of HIMYM and didn't believe that their finale would live up to the expectations... which compelled them to make the worst decision possible?? Every single character is OOC during the episode. Oh, and Marshall and Lily moving in the last episode is a ripoff from Friends (or maybe a tribute? Idk). Anyway, I believe that the authors were too attached to their sentimental version of "what should have been" and didn't give the characters the endings they truly deserved.

"Life works this way" // "Life only moves forward"

Some people say that the show is realistic because that's how life works. But I call super-BS on that. That might be true, and yes, people do get sick and die (Max, Marshall's dad...) and life does go on. But then, you don't frame it the way they did. It's just bad storytelling if you do it like that. And the problem is not the structure of season 9, because the characters develop in that season. The problem isn't even the mother's death. The problem is Ted ending up with Robin because that's not life moving forward for him, that's him, doing the same thing he did in 2005, 25 (twenty-fucking-five) years before!

In conclusion, this finale is incoherent and inconclusive, and not satisfying at all. The only character that gets a good ending is Marshall: why is that? What makes his ending great? It's the fact that his character arc is respected and he finally gets what he's been working towards for more than ten years.

#himym #how i met your mother #how i met your mother spoilers #how i met your mother finale #09x23 #09x24 #robin sherbatsky #ted mosby #tracy mcconnell #barney stinson #marshall eriksen #lily aldrin #swarkles #ted x robin #ted x tracy #barney x robin #a rant #the blue french hor #the yellow umbrella

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rightsockjin · 3 years

Text

Summary: Your best friend of your near entire life has been a total asshat to you ever since you started to casually date which didn't seem super fair to you since he did the exact same thing and you were nothing but supportive! It just sucks that you two are growing apart over a coping mechanism that you adopted to distract yourself from your overwhelming crush on said idiot. If only he knew. Wait- did you say that OUT LOUD?

Rating: M (What isn't on this blog?)

Genre: Maybe a little angst? Smut for sure tho.

Word count: 8003

Warnings: Thongs, sex, lewd thoughts, erections, physical pushing, raw dogging, cream pie, mentions of giving head, a looooooottt of swearing, mentions of slut shaming. Oh right- oppa kink and little splashes of korean as well.

yeo-chin= girlfriend

nam-chin= boyfriend

halmoni= grandma

apa=to hurt

aya=expression to express pain equivalent to 'ow'

Author’s note: HI EVERYONE! We are somewhat back!! So sorry for the long wait for content. Things have been insane and we’ve been working on a much- much longer fic for this blog which will involve all of the boys! It’s a long story but this hit me like a truck yesterday and it was initially meant to be a reaction but I couldn’t stop writing… so it’s 7k and the other boys will get their own version of this prompt “best friend is jealous of the attention you give to guys” thing. Starting once again with the one and only Yoongi! Hope y’all enjoy:)

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“You know it’s funny, I don’t remember asking,” Yoongi said virulently, his attention centered solely on his phone as he scrolled through instagram... or twitter... or maybe it was tinder. Your heart sank. You had been excited that this guy- Woojin- had given you attention. He was good looking by a lot of standards and it had boosted your confidence significantly. Of course, you wanted to share that excitement with your best friend. Rejecting someone that good looking always made you feel really powerful and attractive but you had barely shown him Woojin’s picture and commented on how attractive he was before your so called best friend had brushed you off and went back to his solitude and avoidance.

You had noticed that something was off for a while now but hadn’t commented on anything to avoid any conflicts but this was ridiculous. You had constantly listened to the stories of how girls would trickle in like water for him. He seemed to be going out with someone new every two weeks.

It wasn’t fair that you had to put up with his annoying descriptions of how beautiful these girls were while you sat and gave him your undivided attention as your heart slowly chipped and broke with each new conquest of his. Especially when each girl was so different from who you were. At first, you thought that maybe you were annoyed by this simply because it was hurtful to think he didn’t at least think you were pretty. It wasn’t long after that that you realized that it hurt you when he went out with women who were your polar opposite because it meant that he would never date you.

This had been shocking in itself. You had known Yoongi for your entire life, or at least a good portion of it, and you had always seen him as a brother. Your oppa in the least sexual or boyfriend-y form possible, but when you looked at him now… he was looking a lot more like well- an oppa.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. His words stung more than you would like to admit. Whenever Yoongi got this snippy, you liked to equal him in snip and double him in sass, never showing how vulnerable his disinterest made you feel, but this time, it felt like he had punched you in the chest with all his force and told you you were ugly to boot.

You didn’t want to cry in front of him either. He’d make fun of you. Last time you had cried, he’d awkwardly pat you on the head and quickly changed the very serious topic of your parents' relationship with yours to something totally different and not even a little relevant to helping you feel better. Given, that had been years ago and he’d never been very good at comforting you nor had he so much as expressed his support of you. Not since that one time when you had broken your wrist and he’d promptly pushed the girl who had been the culprit off the swing set thus getting himself suspended for a week and a half when you were both in elementary school.

But this… this was just cruel. It was ugly. It made you look at your “best friend” in a light that was not so shiny and pristine. He’d changed so much since then. He’d pulled away from you since then and you hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe you had and had just ignored it. Maybe you’d hoped if you didn’t mention it, that it would go away and he would come back full force with one of his dumb dances and pretty smiles. Maybe you hoped he’d realize soon what you had realized in your early twenties.

You loved him. And not the brotherly love that you had always had for him, no, you, Y/N, were very much in love with your best friend. Which made this whole situation so much worse.

When you said nothing, Yoongi briefly glanced up at you from his seemingly important phone conversation with most likely another of his soon to be dates only to look back down.

“What? Cat got your tongue? No snippy rebuttal? You’re not gonna chew me out for being mean to you again?”

His face was illuminated by the blue lights of his screen; he had it at the near darkest setting and his eyes were squinted to see it better. Something that had always annoyed you because you knew it was only hurting his vision.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. When that didn’t help, you cleared it, accidentally catching his attention. He clicked his phone off and looked over at you as if ready to argue but something in your face must have given away your inner turmoil because his hard features softened and his lips fell slightly open.

“Are you crying?”

No. Of course you weren’t crying. You never cried. Not ever. But then your cheeks were wet and the onslaught of emotion seemed to burst. How far had you fallen for this indefinitely cold man that his sarcasm made you fall in hysterics? Far it seemed. Too far.

You angrily wiped the tears away from your burning skin and crossed your arms over your chest. The hoodie you had stolen from him earlier that day felt like sandpaper against your skin as opposed to the comfort you’d initially felt when slipping over your head and smelling the fresh scent of his cologne clinging to it.

You felt him shift on the couch to face you fully, out of the corner of your eye, you could see his features had turned worried, alarmed even but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him nor care. Too little too late.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the still air like a wrong note played in a symphony. It made your head spin and ache.

You didn’t dare speak. It would only give away how truly hurt you were by his words and actions. You didn’t want to be around him anymore.

Abruptly, you stood up and yanked the hoodie from your body. The tank you had on pulled up slightly showing the skin of your belly. It was lopsided, you noted when you looked down and saw that one side was pulled over and under your bra and the other was too high on your chest but you didn’t really care.

Yoongi watched you with conflict evident in his eyes, if only you would turn to see. He hadn’t meant to offend you. He’d only been trying to keep you at arms length. You had also been going out with multiple guys, telling him how good looking and tall they all were. Most of these men were also built like rocks and he himself was toned at best. Contrary to what you thought, Yoongi had come to the realization that he’d been in love with you since you were kids. He did not tolerate when anyone made you feel like shit, and, being a very mature kid, he’d told his mother quite early on that he would marry you someday. Of course, she’d only chastised him and told him that he couldn’t possibly know what love was nor could he force you to marry him, but he was adamant.

He’d stopped telling her about it after that though, and instead of telling you how he felt, he’d opted instead to watch over you and make sure nothing happened. So when in high school, you had started to date and it had not been him whom you had chosen, he’d made sure to keep the sorry excuse of a man you had chosen in line. That was… until the incident.

Yoongi would never forgive himself for not being there. For not stopping the bastard who thought he owned you. He’d never forgive the idiot either and if you hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed him with his bare fists then stuffed his own socks in his mouth.

It was then that Yoongi realized that you deserved better than him, and at the same time, no one was worthy of you. It was a strange dynamic. He’d never once approved of your dates, but had decided to start dating other women because, let's face it, he was a guy and he’d like to have children someday but not even in his wildest dreams could he think that you would ever settle for him. Someone who’d failed you as your self imposed protector.

Not that you knew any of that. You didn’t know that Yoongi often teamed up with your other best friend, your girl best friend to scope out your dates once you’d left. You’d almost caught them once as well and it had been by pure luck and the hair of a very out of place clown that both of them had escaped your wrath that night. You also didn’t notice that after you had fully broken up with that first asshole, he’d threatened to beat him to a pulp if he so much as breathed in your direction once more and later, he’d threatened ‘asshole’ two and three with the same things.

But then your dates had gotten taller and stronger and much harder to intimidate. He’d once made the mistake of threatening a casual date that you’d set up who was at least a solid half foot taller than him and he’d been laughed out of the restaurant only to find out later that the jerk had forced a kiss on you.

No, Yoongi’s days as your protector had dwindled and left him feeling half of the man he’d already thought he was and so his only defense, his only way to keep you safe- though now that he was watching tears well in your eyes he wondered what logic he’d used to justify this behavior- was to be the asshole himself and teach you how to deal with them on a first hand basis.

He hated himself for making you cry. He hated that you looked so dejected and hurt and like you never wanted to speak another word to him again. He hated that your shoulders slumped and that your pretty eyelashes were coated in wet tears and it was all on him.

“You know what,” you finally managed to say with some semblance of calm under the storm that was brewing in the irises he’d so loved, “I think we’ve grown apart a little too much. Maybe we should just- cut our losses and,” you heaved a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm, “stop seeing each other.”

Were you breaking up with him? How were you even going to break up with him if you weren’t even dating? Yoongi’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He had tunnel vision. All he could see was you and the way that you seemed to pull yourself up from the ground, rebuilding before his eyes.

“Stop see-what? Are you demented?”

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Was that all he was capable of being? Wrong. Incorrect. Inexact. Erroneous. Mistaken. He was plain stupid for the words he’d let slip but there was no taking them back now.

You let your eyes widen as you wiped more of your furiously falling tears from your skin. You turned to face him, your shirt fixed and covering you exactly how it should and your features set and intentional.

“What’s the point? You clearly don’t want to be around me anymore and I’m tired of being berated every time I mention a guy. You’re the most unsupportive friend I have and that’s because I’ve known you the longest. If you don’t want to be my friend just say so instead of slut shaming me and bullying me every chance you get you asshat.”

“Asshat,” he chuckled, crossing his sleeve-covered arms over his toned chest, “real clever, Y/N. Is that all you got, kid? You never were one for words were you? Why don’t you just sock me instead?”

Oh you were considering it. He seemed so unbothered by the prospect of losing you that you realized maybe you had already lost him and hadn’t realized. You had dealt with your fair share of jerks in your life, but you had always counted on Yoongi to be your hope. He’d shown you that there were men in the world that seemed to care about women. Men who could love you even when you felt unlovable, unworthy, but here he was, proving to you once again that all men were the same evil and vile creatures, incapable of love or kindness if they weren’t getting their dicks wet.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Then you could go around saying that I’m a crazy bitch. You know what? Fuck you Min Yoongi. I hope you get well and royally fucked.” You yelled, grabbing the tote bag you’d brought over from your apartment and stomping to the door.

“Fuck you too,” he yelled, following you to the door. He caught you at the landing strip, prying on your chunky sneakers with a bit of difficulty, your house slippers, the ones he’d bought you, lay haphazardly nearby.

“And fuck all of those asshole guys you keep bringing home. Better yet, I hope you don’t fuck them.”

You turned your head up to look at him, confusion and disgust written all over your face.

“What the fuck do my dates had to do with what a fucking jerk you are?”

Choosing to ignore your question, he focused instead on your insult, “A jerk, am I? Well you’re a bitch. How do you like that?”

He didn’t know why he was insulting you. He didn’t think you were actually a bitch, but the anger on your face made him feel better.

It was followed by near instant regret as you drew yourself up to your full height and looked at him with pure venom in your gaze.

“I’m a bitch?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying to keep his shoulders square, but you were scary when angry and he’d never fared well in fights with you.

“I’m the bitch?”

“You heard me!”

You balled your fists at your sides, your eyebrows connected in the center and your breathing was heavy. He knew better than to use the B-word.

“You’re a piece of shit.” It was low but your voice carried and hit all of the bones in his body before it hit his heart and burrowed deep in the wounds he’d stitched up but pulled open multiple times over the years that pertain only to you.

“You are a sorry excuse of a man,” you growled, pushing him by the chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you noted that it felt really firm and stronger than before.

“You’re an ass, Min Yoongi,” you continued, giving him another push so that he stumbled slightly back into the living room of his apartment once again.

“You low life,” another push, closer to the couch, “weak minded,” you shoved him, he sidestepped the glass coffee table where your untouched coffee mugs still rested, probably cold by now, “son of a bitch, fucking baby, involved sorry excuse of a man-” He fell onto the cough. Your vision was red.

“You already used that insult.” Was all he said as you stood over him, your chest heaved with the exertion of trying to keep yourself from slapping the now blank expression from his face.

A slew of incomprehensible noises escaped from your lips as words completely left your brain. Damn him. Damn this idiot of a man that you were in love with. He could go to hell for all you cared and you hoped that the devil himself ripped his testicles off and served them on a platter with some kimchi and fried rice.

“Okay first of all- ow,” The asshole said, pulling you back to reality and not your fictitious rework where Yoongi was now sitting at the end of a long table being force fed his own balls, “And second…”

You held your breath. Fear ran down your spine. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud-

“You-you’re in love with me?”

Well… he got his wish, you were royally fucked. Instantly, you tried to back track. Your mind kept replaying in your head what you had said and tried to correct itself but you couldn’t think of anything that could possibly absolve you.

“Like a brother,” you said finally, your voice shaky and thin.

Yoongi only blinked up at you. What you said was bullshit and he knew it. You knew it too.

“You’re in love with me… like a brother?”

“Oppa,” you clarified as if that would somehow make more sense, and it did kind of, but it didn’t absolve you at all. In fact, this only made a smile tug at his lips, his pearly teeth suddenly on display, blinding. You fought the smile that threatened to pull at yours too. It was always hard because his smile was so contagious.

Yoongi stood. He was less than an inch away from your own body. You felt small, meek. You’d misstepped this big game of chess you seemed to be playing. He was going to make fun of you. He’d never let you live it down. You liked him.

“You like me,” as if he had read your mind, he echoed your thoughts, or maybe you had spoken that out loud as well.

“No I don’t,” you argued, taking a step back just so you could have some space to breathe.

“Oh yeah you do,” Yoongi argued, his smile so wide you were sure it would hurt the muscles in his cheeks

“No,” you said again, not really thinking anything you said at this point would convince him otherwise. The son of a bitch was stubborn.

“Admit it,” he said, closing the distance between you again, his neck craned down to look directly at your face.

“I don’t like you!” You tried to take another step back but the coffee table knocked your feet out from under you. You fell onto it knocking Yoongi’s mug of coffee over. The black decaf liquid seeped into your shorts.

Yoongi’s rusty laugh was pried from his throat as he watched your face contort. He was having the time of his life, it seemed. Good for him.

“Stop laughing at me,” you groaned, your cheeks red. You were practically sweating from how feverish you felt.

It was like you hadn’t spoken. Your shorts were wet and made you feel sticky. In a fit of anger, like a child throwing a tantrum, you unbuttoned the denim and ripped them from your legs. This shut Yoongi up instantly. With the soiled fabric, you cleaned up the liquid before it fell onto the light grey carpet.

Yoongi stilled as his eyes traveled up and down your long legs.The way you were twisting, he could see the back of your left thigh up to where it met your ass- your bare ass. You were wearing a thong.

God help him, he was rapidly getting hard. He forced his eyes away from you, his walls being pulled back up at seeing you naked. Well partially so. He pushed his hands into his oversized hoodie and made sure that it covered his front. The last thing he needed was for you to see.

But then you turned and pulled your legs together, your thighs squishing attractively. What he wouldn’t give to be choked by those thighs.

“Let me wash those for you,” he said tightly, pulling a hand from his hoodie to take the soiled shorts, the hem of the fabric pulled up enough for you to see exactly what he’d been trying to hide.

Yoongi had a hard on. You weren’t sure why exactly you were surprised. You were attractive, that much you knew, but you never really expected for your best friend to see you in that way. In fact, you were pretty sure that you’d been in your underwear in front of him before and he hadn’t even given you a second glance, but there was the evidence. And God was there a lot of evidence.

Slowly, you handed him the shorts. His hand grabbed them tightly, avoiding touching any part of your hand with his. Then, after a slight pause, he turned on his heels and walked towards the kitchen to put the shorts into the washer.

You’d called him oppa. You rarely called him oppa and it had hypersensitized him to the word coming from your lips. Other girls called him oppa sometimes and it had no effect on him but there he was, stiff as a board and it had something to do with you calling him oppa and your state of undress. Fuck. He was fucked. So fucked.

At least he wished he could be… But no. He pushed those thoughts from his head as he threw in some nice scented soaps into the wash and clicked it to life. He shut his eyes, trying to think of anything that would drain the blood from his member- halmeoni maybe?- but your voluptuous ass kept intruding, giving his halmeoni some nice curves that messed with her wrinkled face. He shook his head once more and decided he’d just have to hide his boner until it went away, or go beat one out in the restroom really quick.

He grabbed a pair of his clean sweat pants from the drying rack to give to you, just so you would be comfortable, he told himself, not because the thought of your naked butt in them made him unspeakably horny.

But when he got back to the living room, what he found was not you, covering yourself with a pillow like he’d expected, but you, only in your thong- fuck did it have to be a thong?- and your bra. Your shirt was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck me,” he groaned, burring his head in his hands and turning away from you.

“I mean, if you ask nicely enough that can be arranged,” you answered rather boldly. There was no way for him to know that you were quaking in fear for his rejection.

Yoongi’s dick twitched in his sweats.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said under his breath as his heart beat faster. He felt like he was having a whole heart attack. He patted his chest, hoping to calm it down knowing it was useless.

Should he go for it? You had just admitted accidentally that you did have feelings for him and you were clearly propositioning him. Should he just-

He turned around, back to face you, determination paining his expression. Still on the coffee table, your legs were spread open, only covered by the thin sliver of fabric that your thong allotted. You were a little cold, but all of that melted away when you saw the way that Yoongi’s eyes roamed your exposed body, then stopped abruptly to meet your own.

He was in front of you in seconds, his longer legs carried him farther and faster than you had anticipated. Then he was pulling you to stand. You wobbled on your legs but one of his arms found its way around your waist. His free hand came up and held your jaw with two fingers on either side of your face, squishing your lips together slightly. His hot, heavy member pressed against your stomach through his sweats. He was so close that you could smell the coffee on his breath and the fading smell of his cologne you loved so much. All you wanted was to grind against him but you were held too tightly.

“You never know when to shut up do you?” But he didn’t let you answer. He crashed his soft lips onto yours, his hold on your jaw ached but you didn’t care. There was a passion in his kiss that you hadn’t expected, subtly dwindling to something more like tenderness, and the kiss continued. His lips dragged against yours delicately, pinching your top one with both of his. Small breaths came out of his nose, whistling softly against your cheek. You timed your breaths with his, high on the feeling of finally being kissed, coveted by him. Was it real? Was this actually happening?

Your brain suddenly caught up with your body. The rightness that came with the way he was kissing you, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he needed you to properly breathe, was like nothing you could have imagined.

The hand on your waist was drawing small circles where the elastic of your thong rested, his index finger casually hooked onto and under pulling lightly. You pressed yourself tighter than he had you against his erection. He groaned, his mouth opening and his tongue suddenly darting out to taste. He pulled your jaw open, granting himself entrance and exploring your mouth.

You moaned, a sound so sensuous and wanton that Yoongi felt that he could cum just from those sounds alone. He wanted more. He wanted you to sing his praises as he fucked into you and caressed your chest. He wanted you to drool around his cock and to have your sweet mouth wrapped tight around it. He wanted to feel you gag at his girth and he wanted to pull at your hair. But most of all, he wanted to kiss you, just like how he was at that moment. He wanted to kiss you until he’d taken your soul from your body and replaced it with his own. He wanted to kiss you until he could erase every trace of all of the men who’d hurt you and made you doubt that you were worthy and wanted. Yoongi wanted to kiss his love into you no matter how long he had to do it. If he was locked in a room with you for months, so be it.

But your hand had found its way between your bodies and was slowly coming down to his hips. Suddenly, he realized what he was doing and panicked. He hadn’t gotten your consent. He hadn’t asked you if it was okay for him to kiss you or to hook his fingers on your thong. As stupid as it sounded, even to Yoongi himself, he needed to make sure that you wanted this to happen, even as your hand had found the outline of his cock and you had started to trace the outline of it over the fabric-

“Tell me to stop,” he gasped, ripping himself away from you. The hand around your waist was now on your shoulder to keep you at enough distance so that his brain could function and wasn’t clouded by the horniness he was feeling.

“Wha…?” You slurred, your eyes were glazed over and your body was completely relaxed.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeated, fighting his every instinct to push your mouth open and have you suck on his thumb before he pushed you onto your knees to suck him off, “and I will.”

His eyelids were heavy and he was sweating slightly. He was so hard that it hurt and the circles you were drawing on his penis were not helping at keeping him at bay. He knew if he looked down, there would be a stain of precum on his sweats.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, leaning in and kissing his jaw before you nibbled and kissed down his taught neck.

“Fuck.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You licked a thick swipe up his jugular, “I want you.”

“Then admit it,” Yoongi heard himself say. He was just as surprised as you were to hear those words from his lips, “admit that you like me.”

You pulled away then, dropping both your arms in exasperation, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m in my underwear, stroking your cock and you want me to stroke your ego too? Un-fucking-believeable. You’re a dumb ass.”

You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead.

“Aya, apa~” he groaned, rubbing his head, the dynamic that you were used to suddenly restored.

“Yeah? Great! I’m glad that it hurt! I hope it hurts really bad you jerk. Then maybe you’ll understand what it was like for me to listen to you go on and on about all the girls you went out with every fucking week. In fact-”

“Aya! What the fuck? Stop flicking me,” he nearly screamed, clutching the tip of his nose.

“Make me.”

Big mistake. Yoongi didn’t take your dare lightly. His eyes darkened then he leaned down and picked you up. You squeaked, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked you to his room. His hands cupped your butt fairly comfortably, like this was something you did often. He kicked the door open and threw you on the bed.

“You think I wasn’t hurt as well?” He asked, clasping a hand around your neck and lightly pressing his fingers against your skin.

“You think I like knowing that everywhere we go, men are watching you, coveting you the way I do? You think it isn’t torture when you go out and I don’t hear from you until the next day?”

He pushed you up against his pillow. The duvet was already all messed up under your body. He was between your legs, pressing himself into your core. Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him all the way inside you. He wanted nothing more than to do the same but he had to make sure you knew first.

“You think it was easy being in love with you when you wanted nothing from me but friendship?”

Your eyes softened. Yoongi was in love with you too? When?

“Since we were kids,” he answered. Again you had spoken without meaning to. “I always knew it was you, Y/N. It was only ever you.”

But something wasn’t adding up. You fought your rising feelings of elation. You wanted to understand what he was saying. If he had liked you since you were kids then why had he never asked you out? Why become the serial dater he’d become? But he’d never had a girlfriend, you reminded yourself. He’d only ever “dated” and then dropped these women. You always assumed he was screwing them all.

Yoongi became sheepish then. “I uh… I did have sex with some of them but-” and the hurt in your eyes would be enough to kill him,” it was only at the start. I thought that if i had sex with other people I’d stop chasing after you. But it didn’t work… I haven’t slept with anyone since junior year of college.”

Your eyes widened. “College?”

He nodded, his pale cheeks blushing prettily.

“They just...were never you… and then I thought if I pushed you away that would help but that only made us estranged and-”

You pushed yourself up and shut him up with a kiss. He was over thinking and you could talk about all that later.

“You’re an idiot,” you started and he rolled his eyes, “but if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to do it myself.”

Yoongi’s eyes rolled into his head and he thrust lightly into your wet center.

“Talk after?”

“As long as you want,” you agreed, already pushing at his sweats. Yoongi sat up and pulled his hoodie and shirt off in one fell swoop, then, at the speed of lightning, pulled off his sweats, leaving him in his boxers.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled his boxers off as well and then he was naked before you. Your mouth went dry. He was big. You could tell just by looking at him that he would stretch you good and you wanted so badly for him to pin you down and have his way with you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Really? Cause that would be really helpful on days when I’m home alone-”

“Wha-no!”

You chuckled and lay down on your back, making sure that your legs were spread wide for him to have his fill. Like a moth to a flame, he was between your thighs, his tongue licking at the wet fabric.

He moaned against your covered lips, sucking up the arousal that clung to your underwear.

“Fuck, Yoongi yes,” you said without meaning to say much at all. You unclasped your bra and threw it somewhere in the room. You could look for it later. This caught his attention. He thrust his naked dick into the mattress, needing some sort of stimulation.

“Damn it… fuck, if I wasn’t so desperate to be inside you, I swear I could get you off with just my mouth all day, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved off, gesturing for him to come up to your face, he did so without question, “Hurry up, I’m dying. Please.”

“Are you begging?” Yoongi’s lips curled lightly, teasingly,

“Do you want to get your dick wet or not?” He kissed the wrinkle between your eyebrows lightly.

“Yeah, can I take these off?” he hooked a finger on the elastic of your thong, pulling it a little higher than he probably should have. It was an old pair. You heard rather than saw the stitching on it pull apart and then the thing was hanging limply from Yoongi’s fingers, his expression shocked.

“Yoongi!”

“What? I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“For fuck’s sake! That was my favorite thong!”

“Well, clearly it was cheap,” he countered, throwing it across the room somewhere too.

You groaned, shifting slightly under him. His dick nuzzled between your wet lips. His mouth dropped open and a pleasured grunt escaped his lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rut against your wetness, hitting your clit lightly, far too lightly, “you are so wet. God, this should be illegal.”

“Y-Yoongi… more,” he reached down between you two and found your sensitive nub without much hassle. It was like he knew your body already. Your body twitched under him and he circled the bundle of nerves for a couple of seconds. The noises falling from your lips were heaven on earth and Yoongi realized you were his new favorite song.

He gave your clit one rough stroke, ripping a small gasp from your throat. He gathered some of your slick with two practiced fingers and brought it up to eye level. It caught the low light of his room from the window, the smell enough to threaten to send him over the edge.

“Jesus Christ that’s hot.” Then he smeared it all over his penis and gave himself two rough pumps.

“Can I-”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking-”

“Don’t care. Just do it. Yes.” You said angrily, pulling him closer and closer, his toned chest flush against yours.

“Have you been working out?” You asked, breaking the intense way he was staring into your eyes, his smile pulled wide over his gums.

He shrugged but clearly was glad that you’d noticed, “Namjoon and Jungkook convinced me to join them in the gym. It’s no big deal.”

“But your arms,” you complimented, squeezing his bicep. He flexed it lightly for you. You blushed when you realized exactly what you were doing.

“It’s just a little muscle,” he commented offhandedly.

The conversation lulled, he smiled down at you, and you up at him. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“So can I put it i-”

“I already said yes.”

“In your ass?”

“Ew no!”

Yoongi laughed loudly, “see this is why you can’t say yes to something without knowing what you’re agreeing to.”

“Shut up and put it in the right hole,” you groaned, then for good measure, “oppa.” It was a joke. You thought it was a joke, but something lit up in his pupils as two measly syllables rolled off your tongue and hit his eardrums. You felt his skin prickle under your touch and his member twitched against your folds.

Like a deer caught in headlights, you looked up at the handsome man. His eyes had narrowed as well as darkened. He looked absolutely ravenous and you wanted him to eat you up.

“Say that again.” He commanded as he pushed the head of his massive, and now that you could properly feel it, you knew that you had been right, cock at the entrance of your lower lips.

“O-oppa?” you questioned, astounded that the simple word that he’d no doubt heard his whole life had this effect on him.

“That’s right yeo-chin,” he growled, his voice gruff and harsh as he pushed lightly into you. His dick opened you painfully, perfectly.

“Yeo-chin?” You ask through the explosion of pleasure between your thighs.

“Is that okay?” He asked, suddenly looking really vulnerable and scared. You reached up, stroking his cheek lightly with your knuckles.

“Oh honey,” you trailed off, bumping his nose against yours before you pulled back abruptly, “If you want me to be your girlfriend, you have to ask me properly.”

Yoongi sighed, his smile telling you he expected as much and wasn’t hurt, “Talk after?” He asked again.

“As much as you want,” you reiterated.

And then he was pushing into you once again, surprising you because you could have sworn you had been full before but inch after inch, he pushed into your awaiting hole, filling all the emptiness you’d felt your whole life until his balls tapped your ass softly.

His face was contorted in pure ecstasy. At least from your perspective. Yoongi, in all truth, was trying his hardest not to blow his load into you already. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was inside you. He’d waited his whole life for this and he was finally inside you.

You wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and playfully licked his lips. He grunted against you, holding himself up by the forearms. Suddenly, he was really grateful that he had started to work out and that Jungkook had him doing three minute planks for fun. He’d have to thank him later, even if he did complain a whole lot.

“Can-can I move?” Yoongi gasped. Your walls fluttered around his member as if welcoming it home with soft caresses. You were so warm, maybe hot, he wasn’t sure, but you were tight and wet and all the good things in the world.

You only breathed, feeling so unbelievably full. It felt like he had pushed in all the way to your throat. You were no size queen, really, you weren’t, but if this is what they were going on about, you understood.

“Y/N,” he panted, his body begging him to move, “please.”

“Are-are you begging?” You giggled mirroring what he’d asked you before.

“Yes.” Without hesitation, he admitted, “Please… please…”

Well fuck. How could you say no? You nodded fervently, all mirth erased from your expression as he pulled out slowly, your juices squelched as your lower muscles tried to keep him in.

“Gah- ash-Y/N… you’re so tight.”

You only moaned in response, the head of his cock was still in you, stretching you to the point you didn’t think anyone could fully make you feel this way again.

“You’re so big,” you complimented scratching at his back. His muscles rippled under your touch.

He pushed back in, still torturously slow. It felt like you were being split in half. You felt like Olaf in the first frozen movie after he got stabbed by an icicle.

“Yoongi,” you gasped as he pulled out again at the same speed, his face screwed up in concentration.

“Oppa,” he growled into your ear, kissing roughly at your skin.

“Oppa,” you agreed, though it wasn’t your favorite word, he seemed to be getting of fairly

well so you let it slide, “move faster.”

“You sure?” He asked.

You nodded, knowing it was probably going to hurt but you wanted to feel him and you wanted him to cum.

“Yes.”

He didn’t need to be told again; he drew back, once again leaving only the mushroom tip inside you once again, and then he thrust. Hard. You nearly choked as he pumped himself over and over again hitting the nerves in your vagina. The slap of skin against yours was loud in the empty room, only accompanied by your moans and his pants and grunts. Your names mixed in every once in a while, your lips kissing any and all the skin that you could possibly reach. He licked at your lips and sucked bruises onto your neck, your chest. He wanted to mark all of you. He wanted to make sure you knew who you belonged to… as soon as he asked you right after he finished up.

This idea itself spurred him on, to thrust faster, deeper. He wanted to finish and make sure that you finished too, not quickly but soon. He wanted to talk. He wanted to make sure that you were in the same place.

So he reached between you both again, his fingers blindly found your clitoris and began to rub abstract shapes into it. Your back arched off the bed, your hair and boobs bounced with each thrust, his balls slapping against your ass. You were seeing white, your mouth wide open in a silent ‘o’. You were so close. So so close.

“Come, Yeo-chin,” he whispered against your temple, and though you weren’t technically his, the title sent you over the edge along with his fingers and the deep thrusts that hit your cervix.

“Oppa,” you groaned, your face screwed up.

That did it for Yoongi. His fingers on your clit stuttered along with his hips. His thrusts became erratic and he hit the sides of your walls. You squeezed around him as he over stimulated you through your orgasm.

“One more time… say it one more time,” he begged.

You complied, whispering it into his ear, it was cut slightly by a particularly pleasurable thrust. Yoongi felt pure euphoria fill his blood as his hips paused, then buried deep into your hole. Ropes of hot cum shot into you, filling you.

Yoongi panted heavily over you, his head resting on your shoulder as he struggled to keep himself up. You were breathing heavily as well, your nipples brushed against his chest. You were sensitive. You hissed.

“You can lay down,” the words had barely left your lips before he had let his weight settle on top of you. A smile crossed your face as his hands tangled in your hair and stroked it lightly. You wrapped him up in a hug, wanting him to stay like this for a while. It was nice to feel him so close.

After a couple of minutes of both of you just recovering and your breathing getting much harder, like a wrestler, you tapped Yoongi twice.

“I’m out,” you joked, “can’t breathe.”

With what looked like a lot of effort, he pushed himself up and off you, pulling out of your suddenly. The cum inside of your vagina gushed out.

You made a face as you felt it drip onto his sheets. Yoongi watched it ooze out of you, not really caring where it was going. He looked mesmerized. He reached out as if to swipe at the cum on your lower lips but you grabbed his wrist before he could.

“We talk now,” you sighed, a bit calmer than before but still a bit worried.

“Now?” He looked so vulnerable again, like he was a scared child. He lay on his side, resting his head on his elbow. He looked down at you, waiting for you to take the reins, the way you always did but this time, you didn’t know where to begin.

Yoongi cleared his throat looking around uncomfortably. When you said nothing, his mind had started to race.

“So… do you… want to be my girlfriend, or are we friends with benefits level right now? Ow!”

You’d smacked his shoulder, not hard at all but he was dramatic and you knew that. He frowned at you, his lips tempting you into another kiss that could lead to something more once again. You were already feeling a little turned on again just looking at the results of his recent gym trips.

“So no to yeo-chin then?”

“Yoongi!”

“Don’t you mean Oppa?”

You smiled up at him, a teasing glint in your gaze, “I didn’t know you had an oppa kink. This whole time, I was right to refuse to call you oppa. I knew you looked way too happy whenever I called you that!”

Yoongi scrunched his nose and looked away, “I don’t! It’s just… when you say it.” He admitted waving a hand as if to bat away your inquisitive and teasing stare.

Not really knowing how to answer that, you chose instead to answer his previous question.

“Nam-chin,” you ran a finger down the center of his pecks, tracing all the light visible muscles that made you want to get off on just riding his chest. Yoongi tensed under your touch. He seemed frozen.

“Did you just call me nam-chin?” You, for once, were not embarrassed. You smiled brightly, happy that the title finally had a head to sit on.

“Is that okay?”

Yoongi pulled you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his heart beat erratically in his chest, singing to yours. To its credit, your heart synced and harmonized almost instantly. He smelled like pure sex and fresh water. He buried your face into his bare skin, listening to his song. After all these years, after all the tiptoeing and fear, you were finally where you belonged.

“Of course it is,” he paused, kissing the top of your head a couple of times, “yeo-chin.” This time, the word made a shiver roll down your spine. Arousal began to pool between your sticky thighs once more and if the third leg on your stomach was anything to go by, he was as well.

“Can- can we take a shower?” you asked him, biting your lips and pushing your chest against his suggestively.

He smirked, his mouth watered at the thought of taking you in the shower. He could almost hear your moans echoing in his wet room as he sat you down and ate you out until the water ran cold. Easy clean up even.

“Yes.” he breathed, connecting his lips to yours. You kissed for a while, your lips meshing together lovingly. Yoongi was a good kisser, you realized. He was a good lay as well. And he was cute to boot. Suddenly, he pulled away and picked you up bridal style and walked you to his restroom. He once again kicked the door open to avoid using his hands and walked you through, but this time instead of throwing you down, he set you on the toilet, him on his knees between your pushed open legs.

“I hope you don’t have any plans,” he said, kissing up your thighs and pulling you close to the edge, “because I have all the time in the world and I’m really, really thirsty.”

He ran two fingers over your abused center, collecting his cum and your new arousal. Sure, there were still a lot of things to talk about between you two. Yoongi still wasn’t sure if you fully understood the depth of his feelings nor was he sure if you simply liked him and the slip of the L-word was nothing more than that. A slip. But like he’d said, he had all the time in the world to ask and all the time to make sure he earned you and your trust. He would do anything he could to prove it and some day he would be.

But for now, he was royally fucked by the sinful sounds that escaped your pretty lips and he wanted nothing more than to just enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist -in case you want to read more....

I hope yall enjoyed it and that this is a good come back after our roast session from permission to dance:)

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chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐝-𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,236

warnings: none? pls let me know if i missed anything

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! i hope you guys like this chapter. i fell in a little bit of a rut about my writing so I've been holding off on posting but I think I'm pretty satisfied with how this came out. i'm so fried after editing this so if i happened to miss any typos, sorry, i tried haha.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

The heat and dimness from the cabin surround you like a warm hug making it challenging to stay awake. Your eyelids droop against your wishes to study, fatigue messing with your vision as it blurs the letters on the page you were trying to read. As you find yourself mindlessly reading words, you decide to give in, and soon you’re settled in an in-between state of consciousness.

Suddenly, you’re standing at the entryway of the kitchen in your home, the first thing you notice is the scent of your favorite meal as it fills your nostrils, and you smile sleepily as your father looks at you. He’s hovering over the stove, right hand stirring something in a saucepan, and he smiles widely at you.

“Stella, you’re home!” He announces as he pushes his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Go, sit! Dinner is almost ready.”

You smile at the nickname your father has called you since you were a child. He said that the first time you cried in his arms, your little body illuminated like a supernova, and since then, he’s called you Stella, the Latin word for star. You make your way past the kitchen island on your left, noticing the history channel playing on the small TV in the corner of the counter like always. A sense of nostalgia hits you in your core, and you sigh, feeling safe. As much as you loved the camp, homesickness was unavoidable.

You settle yourself at the black round table in the back of the kitchen, chin resting on your palm as you look outside of the window beside you. The small garden of herbs and flowers you have in the backyard is as you remember. Every summer, your father cultivates herbs and flowers in dedication to your mother. He uses most of the herbs for spells, and at the end of the summer, he would make a bouquet out of the brightest flowers in the garden and rest them on your mother’s alter.

The reminder of your mother made your stomach feel heavy, and you quickly push the thoughts of her away. You weren’t in the mood to deal with them, especially not in a dream like this. The thumping of Atticus’s footsteps coming down the stairs catches your attention, and soon your brother appears in the doorway with his usual wide smile.

“Hey! I thought you were making my favorite tonight.” His shoulders slump, and he playfully narrows his eyes at you. You shrug,

“What can I say? Must suck not being the favorite,” you joke, and Atticus gasps dramatically. The sound of your father’s laughter fills the room as he tilts his head back.

“I love you guys equally! That’s not nice to say,” he says as he points the spatula at you as he squints. You snort as Atticus joins you at the table,

“Yeah, Y/n, that’s not nice,” he repeats, poking his tongue out at you, and you return the action. You and your brother have a short competition of who can stick out their tongue harder as your father puts the food on the table. At the sight of your favorite meal, you let Atticus win, turning to put a portion on your plate.

Amidst your dinner conversation with your father and your brother, the deep growl rumbling in Ambrose’s chest makes its way into your dream. A soft hum leaves your lips, your neck relaxing against your will, and your head jolts forward as your cheek slips off your palm. You blink a few times, groaning since you’ve lost your dream.

“Ambrose, shush.” Your chin returns onto your hand, and you submit to your fatigue once again. The image of a ravenous bunny, cartoonishly stomping its way through a candy cane forest, filled your mind, projected on your eyelids like a movie in a theater. It’s too ridiculous to give much thought, and you were too busy relishing in the soothing feeling of sleep.

All of a sudden, Ambrose bursts into a series of short high pitched barks, jolting you awake. Your eyelids fly open, and you turn in your chair. Ambrose stands up tall, his fur contouring to his muscles as they flex. His ears are perched up; his focus fixed on the back wall. Whatever he was looking at, he didn’t dare to approach.

"What? What is it?"

The bunk beds obstructed your view, but you are sure you are alone. Everyone was out and about doing their normal camp activities; if anyone had entered the cabin, you would have heard them.

You groan in your hands as they rub your face to shake off the remaining fatigue, growing annoyed at Ambrose’s persistent barking that nips harshly at your eardrums.

“Ambros-”

A bitter breeze fills the room, and your breath gets caught in your throat at the feeling. Your arms wrap around your frame, failing to prevent goosebumps from forming on your arms. It was impossible. Today’s weather report called for a hot, humid day like it’s been all summer. As the hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you have an idea of what’s happening, but you hoped you were wrong.

Ambrose abruptly ends his barking with a distressing whine. His ears sag low on the sides of his head as he retreats, his large body shrinking in fear. With cautious steps, you approach him in the middle of the cabin. The thumping of your pulse is loud in your ears, and for the first time in a while, a familiar pang strikes you in your gut. You’re being watched.

Despite his fear, Ambrose guards you finding the courage to stand tall and confident after cowering a few seconds ago. You let out a shaky breath, and warily, you finally catch sight of what has his attention.

A tall, dark figure stands still at the end of the room. The light that bleeds through the thin curtains behind it wasn’t enough to expose its face but instead illuminates the swirling black vapor that made up this human form.

From your years of experience, you learned how to deal with these kinds of things. Ghosts gravitated towards you like a moth to a lit flame. Most of the time, the spirits are harmless, looking for some company, and were eager to ask for favors you often couldn’t fulfill. Other times, they were more malevolent entities, existing to feed off your fears, and had the reputation of being stubborn guests.

From the way, the room turned impossibly cold in the middle of a sweltering summer afternoon and the heaviness in your gut, the shadow in front of you was definitely the latter.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" Your voice booms through the silence. "Why are you here-"

The cabin door slams open, the shadow dispersing the moment the sunlight bleeds through the room. You jump, gasping as your whole body turns around. The two figures at the doorway are dark, the sudden beams of light blinding you for a moment before you manage to recognize Connor and Travis.

“Why is it so damn dark in here? And cold? Jeez, Y/n, open the curtains at least,” Travis nags with a smirk on his lips.

“I don’t need light to see.” You groan, turning your face away, the sun shining right at you as Travis begins ripping open the curtains. “And I hate when the sun gets in my eyes,” you complain, stepping aside where sunlight doesn’t reach. Though you saw the shadow disperse, you glance at the back of the room, double-checking that what you saw was gone.

"You know... “

Your focus returns to the two boys standing side by side a few feet away from you. Both of them sporting the mischievous smirk that all the Hermes kids had when they’re about to stir up trouble. Connor only uttered two words, but it was clear they were up to something, and you were about to be involved.

"You've been locked up in here, in the dark, alone, for a while now. It's been like a week and a half since the incident, and we know you’re still a little down,” he trails off, swaying on his feet.

"... yeah?"

"And we think we have the perfect way to cheer you up!" Connor gives you a toothy grin, and as confident as he looked, you don’t quite believe him.

"And that is?"

"I think it's time we execute our bunny prank on the Ares cabin!"

You press your lips together in a thin line; head cocked to the side. "That's supposed to cheer me up?"

"Yeah!"

"How is putting my life in danger going to cheer me up?" Your gaze switches between the two as they exchange looks with each other.

“Um…” Connor says, lost for words.

"It'll be fun. We promise!" Travis insists, waving your comment off. He moves to sit in your chair, leaning back as he props his legs on your desk. "So, have you thought about how we're going to do this?"

You sigh softly, not bothering to protest. If you denied participating, Connor would be quick to remind you what’s at stake.

"I have," you admit. After your last interaction with Clarisse, the prank did come to mind.

The Stoll brother’s faces grew almost as bright as the sun outside. Connor takes a seat on the bed closest to you, leaned in with his elbows on his knees, "Tell us the details then,” he urges.

"Okay, so I found a shape-shifting potion in my spellbook. It's pretty simple. I have all the ingredients except for one. The only thing I need is the hair of a rabbit. Get that for me, and I'll make it." Connor and Travis nod eagerly, and you can already see the gears turning in their heads as they formulate a plan to catch a bunny.

"If you can get it to me in a few hours, we can sneak into their cabin while they're practicing in the arena. Then I can pour a few drops of the potion into their water cooler. The potion is potent; you only need a few drops for it to work."

"Sounds like a solid plan. They'll be thirsty after practicing, and boom, they’re all cute little bunnies,” Travis says, legs unmounting from your desk, and he hops onto his feet.

"So hurry and get me rabbit hair!”

A small, almost manic laugh comes from Connor’s lips, "This is gonna be epic!"

"Should we ask the nymphs for help?" Travis ponders out loud as he makes his way out of the dorm.

"Wait! We should get scissors! Do you have scissors?” Connor asks you, and you giggle. You grab a pair of scissors from your desk drawer, and Connor quickly swipes them from your hands the moment you present them to him.

"Thanks, Y/n!” Swiftly, he turns on his heels, trailing behind Travis.

"Be careful, please! Don't hurt the bunny!"

"We won't! The worse we'll do is give it a bald spot; they’ll be fine!" Travis shouts.

After the slamming of the front door and the ragged footsteps of Connor and Travis’s departure, your smile falters as the silence regresses. The figure you had seen comes to mind, and you frown, Ambrose whining as he sits close to your legs.

"That was weird, wasn't it?" You lean down, affectionately scratching the backs of his ears as Ambrose licks your wrists. The sight of his drooping eyes told you enough to know that this wasn’t the last time you’ll be seeing whatever that was.

"C'mon, let's not worry about that now. We have to make that potion." An uneasy grumble comes from Ambrose's chest as he nuzzles his snout in your hand.

"I know, I know," you whisper before standing up.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

"Shh, they’re coming,” Travis announces in a whisper, silencing you and Connor’s conversation. The distanced chattering and footsteps of the Ares campers become louder as Clarisse pushes open the front door. The three of you duck lower in your place as they scatter to their beds, beginning to take off their armor. Travis slowly rises from his crouching position, peaking enough to see the inside. He gives you and Connor a nod, a silent okay to peek yourselves. Cautiously, you come up, watching the group now crowding around the water dispenser, playfully telling each other to hurry up.

Connor lightly pats your shoulder with excitement, and you scrunch your face, anticipation swirling in your stomach as one by one, they begin taking sips from their water bottles. Your jaw drops as Mark forms a snout, his hands flying up to his face.

"W-what?" He sputters, moving closer to his reflection in the mirror. "What is-"

The rest of his words became soft squeals, his whole body shrinking and shifting into a stark white bunny in the blink of an eye.

“Um? Did that just-?”

“How did-”

“You have bunny ears!” Ellis shouts, pointing at Clarisse while she formed a pair of her own. Clarisse didn’t have time to comment as Ellis joins her half-brother. One by one, they began shrinking, and small shrieks fill the room.

"What are you guys doing?" The three of you practically jump out of your skin, heads snapping in the direction of the voice.

Percy’s eyes are wide and curious, furrowing his eyebrows at the chaos breaking out in the Ares cabin. You open your mouth to say something but stop yourself, not wanting to blow your cover.

“It must have been the water!”

“When I see the Stoll Brother’s I’m going to-” Squeal.

Travis’s face was a tint of pink from holding in his laughter. He doesn’t respond, simply waving at Percy to come and see for himself. You and Percy exchange a smile before turning back to the window.

His chance at seeing the pool of white bunnies went down the drain; the four of you met with an angry Clarisse instead. To your dismay, she didn't completely transform. Her normally brown eyes are now crimson and her mouth transformed into a whiskered snout. White bunny ears peek through her brown hair, making it look like she was wearing one of those bunny ear headbands they sell at the pharmacy around Easter time. You’d be laughing as much as the Stoll Brothers if Clarisse’s stare wasn’t fixed on you and only you. You give her a nervous smile as you step away carefully, and the moment Clarisse moves to jump out the window, the four of you bolted.

“She’s gonna kill us!” You exclaim; Travis and Connor burst into laughter, hands over their stomach as they run beside you.

“Split up! She can’t kill all of us!” Travis suggests, already making a beeline into the forest with Connor.

“Yeah, cause she’s gonna go after me!”

“We’ll weave you a nice shroud!”

“WOW, THANKS!”

The cackles of the two made you roll your eyes, and you make a mental note never to help them with a prank ever again. You grunt as Percy grabs onto your wrist, and you stumble for a second until you catch up to his pace.

“You can’t run from me forever!” Clarisse shouts, running close behind. She was right, you couldn’t avoid her forever, but you just needed her to calm down. "When I catch you, I'm tying your necks like shoelaces!"

You cringe at the threat as you and Percy burst through the swinging doors of the Arts and Craft center, weaving your way through the campers.

“Sorry!” You shout over their groans as you’re pulled into one of the hallways. Seeing the closets along the walls of the hallway gave you an idea. You bite your lip, focusing on the door leading to the outside. Reaching your hand out, you flick your fingers forward, causing the door to burst open fast enough for it to lock in place.

The moment you approach the last door in the hallway, you grab the knob. A grunt leaves Percy’s lips as you drag him in the closet with you. He loses his footing from the change of direction, spinning hastily toward you, and the both of you stagger into the closet. You yelp, the weight of Percy’s body sending your back right against the wall, and the knob comes out of grip right as it slams closed.

Percy grunts, his hands push against the wall beside your frame, promptly lifting himself away from you.“Sor-”

“Shh.” Your index finger rests your lips as you look at the door. Your shoulders tense up, afraid that Clarisse had heard the slam. Soon, Clarrise’s pounding footsteps rise like a crescendo and, to your relief, gradually fades as she runs right out of the building. A shaky sigh leaves your lips before glancing at Percy, who’s directly in front of you. You smile sheepishly, foot moving to step back only to be met with the wall.

Percy’s heart beats loud in his chest, and he was hoping that you couldn’t hear it. He tried to step back as well, but Percy’s foot was met with the shelves behind him to his dismay. He scans your face in the dim lighting for a few seconds. Suddenly, he’s reminded of how he stumbled on top of you, making him too embarrassed to look at you any longer. His focus falters to the shelves beside him, forcing himself to find interest in the tubs of paint stacked on them.

“It’s your fault,” you accuse after some silence. Shock flashes across Percy’s face,

“Huh?”

“Because you were so nosey, you blew our cover.” You reach over, and you poke his shoulder. Percy’s peers down at where you poked him as if he was offended.

“At least I ran with you. Travis and Connor left you for dead!”

“Great friends, they are, huh?” You ask, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

Percy laughs, "I think you've taken the trophy of being the most hated by Clarisse," he jokes.

"I don't think I can one-up you. You literally fought her dad and won," you point out. "I think if we split up, she'd definitely come after me. Imagine the last thing you see when you die is Clarisse looking like… that. "

Percy laughs and you laugh, too, feeling comfortable with making light of the situation now that you were out of harm's way.

"How did that even happen!?”

"I don't know!” You sigh, bummed that Clarisse had managed to be the only person who stayed human. “Maybe she didn’t drink enough water?”

“Wow, the only person you needed to transform into a bunny just didn’t,” Percy says as he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the shelves.

“Pretty much.”

“You have amazing luck, Y/n,” he says sarcastically.

“Whatever,” you mumble, eye faltering to the shelves beside you. Percy’s laughter fills the small space, making it hard to prevent the smile from creeping on your lips. The sound of footsteps interrupts you as you open your mouth to say something else and it brings Percy’s laughter to an end. Your shoulders are practically up to your ears as you look into Percy’s wide eyes before he mouths, “we’re dead.” If it is Clarisse, you guys are cornered, and you prepare to shadow travel even if it meant you might pass out, especially if you bring him with you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you hear two familiar voices, and soon the door opens, revealing you both to Beckendorf and Silena. There is a moment of silence, Silena blinking at the both of you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she observes the tension. Beckendorf’s right eyebrow raises, glancing between you and Percy’s face.

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?" Your face gets hot, and you exchange a look with Percy, noticing the tips of his ears are bright red.

"No, we were hiding from Clarisse,” he stutters out, gaze snapping to the two, and you nod quickly,

"Because I turned her into a bunny and-"

"She didn't transform all the way-"

"It's okay. Charles and I would sneak around at first, too," Silena interrupts, her lips curled up in a satisfied smile.

"We were just talking!" You and Percy say in unison. The more defensive you got, the more suspicious you both came off. From the way Beckendorf and Silena smiled at each other, you knew they weren’t buying it.

Beckendorf shrugs, and he steps forward, reaching between the two of you to grab the box of beads from the shelf. He hums, “It’s clear we interrupted something. I just needed this. You guys can carry on,” he teases, amused at how embarrassed the both of you are.

“But- we-” you stutter, unable to finish your sentence, Beckendorf shutting the door, and Silena makes a sound between a giggle and a squeal as they walk away.

Percy clears his throat, interrupting the short silence that fell between the two of you, “Um, should we…?” His voice falters, not finishing his sentence, but you already knew what he was going to ask.

“Yeah,” you agree awkwardly, opening the closet. “Let’s go,” you mumble, stepping out with Percy close behind you.

"Where should we go now?" Percy asks, opening the door to the outside for you, and you smile, finding it sweet. You thank him shortly, and you shrug,

"I'm not sure, but I don't think Clarisse has calmed down yet…" you trail off, catching sight of a fuming Clarisse standing beside Chiron a few meters away. “Dammit.”

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

You shift on your feet, standing in Chiron’s office alongside Travis, Connor, and Percy. Clarisse’s crimson eyes are still narrowed at you as Chiron sighs, backing into his wheelchair before his backside disappears, allowing him to sit fully into it.

"I understand you guys are just having fun. However, I believe the Ares Cabin deserves a little break from the pranks, don't you think?" He asks as he looks at Connor and Travis.

You fiddle with your fingers, your shoulders slumped along with Connor and Travis’s shoulders. Travis nods, and he hums as if he considers it for a moment.

“We could prank the Apollo Cabin instead?" Connor suggests, and Chiron opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You press your lips together in an attempt to refrain from smiling, discovering that Percy was doing the same. You became more amused at his face turning a little pink as he holds in his laughter, and you quickly look at your hands to recollect yourself.

“I’d prefer you tone down the pranking altogether,” Chiron clarifies. Connor frowns, and he nods slowly,

“Oh. Yeah, we could do that, I guess,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Chiron nods, shifting his gaze to you,

“Y/n, what did you used to transform them into rabbits?” You hum softly,

“It’s a shape-shifting potion from my spellbook,” you explain.

“How long will it take for them to transform back?” You look up for a second, trying to remember your notes. While recalling the day you went through Ernest’s potions book to jot the recipe in your Book of Shadows, you realize how many forms of the potion there were depending on the transformation length. Ernest had mentioned in passing something about reading his notes carefully. It wasn’t until now did you realize that the potion you had made was not the short-term one.

“About … 24 hours,” you admit, and Connor snorts beside you.

“What!?” Clarisse snaps, her fists clenching on her side. “You mean, they’re going to be like that until tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, that’s what 24 hours means,” you snap back; her presence was enough to annoy you. Clarisse’s glare burns into your face, and she moves to take a step, about to charge at you.

“Clarisse, please! They will be punished accordingly,” Chiron reassures her, making her halt in her place, and she groans, her arms crossing over her chest as she waits for Chiron’s verdict.

"Well, I was going to assign you four to clean the Pegasus stables, but now that it has come to my attention that the potion lasts 24 hours, your punishment is to feed and clean up after them while they’re under the spell."

“Ew, I’d rather clean the stables,” Connor mutters, and you furrow your eyebrows,

“But wouldn’t the pegasus stables be more work?” You ask, hoping to get him to change your punishment. The last thing you wanted to do was be surrounded by a bunch of angry bunnies. Sure they were small, but you did not doubt in your mind that you were going to be attacked by them.

“They are a big group; I think it is fair that Clarisse gets assistance in taking care of them,” He says calmly, his fingers intertwined as they rest on the desk in front of him. “Feed them before you go off to dinner, accommodate their sleeping arrangements and clean up after them before morning check-ins,” he decides. You sigh softly. At this point, as long as Clarisse wasn’t on the hunt to kill you, you were okay with it.

As Chiron dismisses you, you catch the satisfied smile Clarisse was sporting, and you felt your anger swirling in your chest. You grunt as you turn on your heels, Travis and Connor behind you as Percy walks by your side. You sigh, lazily trotting off the steps of the big house,

“This...”

“Sucks,” Percy finishes your sentence, and you nod, the both of you frowning.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“Stop biting me!” You complain, nudging off the crowd of bunnies from your arm. Percy laughs, seated on the floor beside you as he helps you make a nest of blankets big enough for the bunnies.

“They hate you,” he comments, amused. His smirk falls flat, and he hisses as one of them gets a good bite on his finger. “Ow!” He squints at the bunny before picking it up. It was your turn to laugh, and you watch curiously as he walks to one of the dressers and plopping it on top. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re in time-out,” he grumbles.

“Wait, that’s actually really smart!” You look down at the bunnies around you. “They can’t jump from that high!” As you reach for the closest bunny, they run out of your reach, squealing, and soon they were huddled under a bed.

Percy smiles as they disperse, “well, now they’ll leave us alone,” he says as he sits beside you to continue piling the extra blankets you found. “You should have let me play that rock-paper-scissors game with them,” Percy mentions.

The two of you were stuck making a makeshift bed for the Ares campers since Travis and Connor had to round up their cabin for curfew. Well, one of them could have done it, but they insisted that it was a two-person job. You said it was unfair if they skipped out and they offered to settle who will go with an intense rock-paper-scissors game; best of three. You had accepted the challenge and lost miserably.

"I should have known there was no point in trying with their luck."

"Yeah, you walked right into that."

You side-eye him, "anyways, you would have lost.”

“How are you so sure?”

"Because, you just would have," you say shortly, and you smile as he turns to you.

“Well, considering how lucky you've been all day," he says sarcastically, and you squint at him. "I would have had a better chance,” he gloats.

“You’ve been real sassy today,” you mumble, and he laughs. “It’s fine. There’s not that much to do anyway.” Carefully, you roll the sides of the blankets into a nest shape after Percy finishes piling them. You rise on your feet, “It’d sleep there if I were a bunny. What do you think?”

“I would too. It seems comfortable,” Percy smiles as he stands up.

"Are you losers done?" Clarisse walks into the cabin with bowls of water for her siblings, and you roll your eyes as she puts them on the ground.

"Yeah, is it to their liking?" You ask with fake politeness, straining a smile. Clarisse observes the bundle of blankets as her siblings get in to try it out. She furrows her eyebrows, listening attentively to the various squeals. She had inherited most of the bunny traits, and though she didn’t transform completely, she could understand what they were saying.

“Eh, it’s good enough,” she concludes after hearing all the complaints of her siblings. “I’m sick of seeing your faces; get out.” She didn’t have to tell you twice, and you don’t waste any time as you turn on your heels. You were sick of seeing her face too.

Walking down the steps of the Ares Cabin, Percy follows beside you. A slight hum comes from his lips, and you look over,

“I was wondering when you’d come back to sword fighting,” he mentions, and you nod, recalling that you had agreed to attend classes after sparing with him a couple of weeks ago. “Your brother has been coming more often; he’s gotten a lot better.”

“That’s why my body has been aching so much,” you mutter more to yourself. For the past week, you thought you were staining your body in your sleep.

“Huh?”

“Long story,” you wave your hand, and you think about his question.

If you were completely honest, you weren’t as depressed about what had happened anymore. After you talked with Percy, you had finally come to terms with many of the thoughts that were tormenting you. However, you still stayed locked up in the Hermes Cabin because in the past week or so, you’ve gotten so much studying done. You wanted to stay in and read, and you were planning on milking your excused absences for as long as you could. But now, you considered that maybe you should return to your normal activities. Connor and Travis were becoming more worried, so were Atticus and Lou Ellen.

“I could join tomorrow,” you say hesitantly, your heart fluttering as Percy’s face brightens up. “Are you that excited to beat me up?” You joke, and Percy laughs, shaking his head.

“No! It’s just… it’s weird not seeing you around.” He admits shyly as he looks away. The cool summer breeze blows on your warm cheeks, and you swallow,

“I’ll go tomorrow,” you confirm, sounding more sure of yourself this time. Once you approach the steps of the Hermes cabin, you turn to him. “Good night, Perce.”

The sides of Percy’s eyes crinkle as he nods, “Good night,” he says as he slowly backs away. “And try to wake up on time, yeah? I’m not feeding the Ares cabin alone tomorrow,” he teases. You did have a habit of being the last person to arrive at breakfast. He must have noticed.

“Yeah, yeah. Worry about yourself, waterboy.” You smile, hearing him scoff. Opening the door to the Hermes cabin, you look back at him one more time. You take in the wide grin on his face, and he nods,

“Got it. I’ll remember that when you’re being chased by Clarisse again.” Your mouth drops open, eyes glinting at his banter.

“You better go before the harpies eat you!” You shoo him away as he laughs, then with a short salute of his two fingers, he walks off to his cabin.

masterlist taglist: @xxyrr @nct127bee @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @-thatgirloverthere- @sanovr @passionswift @nanskidoodle @Slytherclaw-kitten @zhethugisa

#my writing #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson and the olympians fanfiction #pjo fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson fluff

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withoneheadlight · 3 years

Text

| billy & will + pre-harringrove | full fic in spanish |

There’s an in-between. The high school and the middle school. A bare piece of land, yellowed from the lack of grass and the rough kiss of the sun and, right in the middle, an old shack.

It's a shabby thing that accumulates lack of re-paintings and excess of humidity but that’s out of sight, in that way of things that are just there but no one wastes time looking at anymore are.

That's where they meet.

Billy lights up a smoke. Slides his ass up an ancient, long retired desk, pasture now of the damp and rot, and leans against the peeling wood. Front and back-row seat to the long column of trees the wind’s rippling along on the other side of the wire fence. The ember warms up his lips as he inhales a deep puff and exhales a,

“You’re getting soft, Billy Hargrove”

He leans his head back and closes his eyes, ears on that ceaseless chirping of the bids that sews together the slow-passing hours of the days and nights of Indiana, and on the delighted screams from the middle-schoolers, remembering that, somewhere in there, there's a bunch of kids who will still be laughing just as hard, just as happy, a few years down the road. That maybe even Max could be one of them, if Billy hurries. That maybe he will too, if Billy is able to control that instinctive reaction that pulls his skin inward and screams at him to stopstopstop, that the soft skin shreds, falls apart so easily.

But maybe it can be both of them, if Billy manages to clench his teeth hard enough and keep on softening.

‘Cause soft skin hurts when it breaks but,

"Hey!"

Sometimes it’s worth it.

Will’s smiling wide. Stops running, abruptly, and then just stands in there, panting. He’s got a funny nose and giant eyes. The kind of bangs that make you wanna blow them out of his eyes even though what they're is too short, actually, and Billy’s always thought he'd do better in life if he didn't. Notice things. If he didn't see that widewidewidewide smile and could read it so easily.

"I've been dying to show you this!" Will kneels down into the grass, chopping out the words in between exhalations. Pulls at the zipper of his backpack, chest heaving, and he doesn't realize he's going to get dirt on the knees of his jeans or that Billy can read it. His relief. Of finding him in here and not just an empty desk. Of how for a kid every single day more means 'You care’.

(About me)

It was early December. Friday right after last period and one of those silly things that only happen in movies. Something so like scripted and choreographed that Billy nearly considered looking up at the ceiling to make sure John Hughes wasn't silently watching them, taking notes from above. They crashed in the middle of a corner. Billy sped up ‘cause he was in a hurry and the only way to catch Max in time lately was to intercept her right out of class. Will ‘cause he's always going like that, Billy knows now. Always a thousand miles per hour. Always verging on time-jump speed to then being the kind of kid who seems so quiet it's scary. They crashed. Hard. In the middle of that corner. Papers flying all over and a curse (Will) and a muffled groan (Billy) and they ended up pulling at the same paper one from each corner. A drawing. Trolls and wizards and a castle and an emerald-green light. A star in the distance, auguring bad omens. Billy forgot to be frightening and Will must have forgotten he was supposed to be frightened when he blurted out a,

"Fuck, Byers. This is frikin’ fantastic."

No fear or reticence or that way he sometimes has of bumping into words and stumbling, just a "Really?" eyes huge and bangs brushing against his eyelashes as he blinked when Billy also forgot he was also supposed to― well, supposed to be Billy Hargrove.

"’Got more?"

So now he skips English instead of Algebra, every Tuesday and Thursday. Sneaks off to that in-between place he knows no one wastes time looking at anymore to light up a smoke, same time as Will has his recess. And the kid doesn't always manage to shrug off of his flock of nerds but he’s lucky, some days.

And he brings the drawings.

Orcs and goblins and enchanted mountains on the northwest and it seems to Billy that there are more princes than princesses and that if there are any, they’re almost always sorceresses, almost always queens and that your attention gets hooked on their burning eyes, not in the clothes they’re missing and Billy feels like it's a small grain of sand, this thing they’re doing. Knows that someone’s already keeping a solid ground under Will's feet ('Joyce' he says it’s her name. And it stings, the way he manages to fit so much love, into such a tiny word). But it also seems to him that maybe it doesn't take much more, for Will, just a few grains of sand, to replace those that being a strange kid in a small town sick with apprehension for what it finds strange, takes every day away from him.

So Billy’s gotta have to clench his teeth ‘till his gums start bleeding ‘cause is that, or let his skin toughen up again. Is that. Or fucking everything up.

And ave María, Billy doesn’t want to fuck it all up again.

So he sucks on his cigarette. Hooks up an eyebrow. Waves his hand to hurry the kid up.

“Mmm. That’s how good you think it is, dickwad? ‘C’mon, got my next class in twenty”

Will flies over the papers. Head nodding and fingers skimming fast. Finds what he’s looking for and yanks it out, raises it up triumphantly in his hand. It’s the sword in the stone and he carries it up to Billy with wet knees and just a little mud-staining. It’s February and the sun’s burning brightly over all the wetness the night’s spent crying. The drawing is a huge dragon, wings made of leather and cartilage, spread out in eclipse in front of the moon, only a few silver rays illuminating the dark knight in front of it. Blue eyes lined in black, blond curls cascading down his back and Billy was clenching his teeth but they part now, ‘cause the figure looks too much like him to be a coincidence. A smile devours his whole mouth. Soft. A joke itching on the tip of his tongue. He grunts a,

“I’ve been called many things. But never this, Byers”

Only half his expression’s visible, eyebrows covered with those thick bangs, and Billy has to once again fight the impulse to blow them out.

“¿Hum?”

“Knight” he says, drawling the teasing tone out “In shining armor”

And It’s such a loss, all that hair. Because it’d pass unseen, if you don’t know him. The way his eyebrows spike up underneath and it burrows in between them, the eagerness of teasing back. But Billy’s lucky, ‘cause it’s been more than two months like this and Billy―

Knows him. Well enough at least. So it doesn't pass unseen to him.

“You know the drill, William. Spit it out. Can see you’re holding it up from miles”

Will purses his lips out tight. Looks like he’s trying but. Nah.

“Wouldn’t be that shiny '' scrunches his nose. Throws a meaningful glance at Billy’s disheveled looks. More thoughtful than not, way more intentional. But that's something he'll figure out when he grows up.

Billy cackles. Will's smile widens, satisfied. Hops onto the desk next to his. Billy offers him the cigarette.

“And―this?” Will shrugs inwardly. Glances up at him. Then down, at the exchange between their hands. Takes the cig in between two fingers and it doesn’t burn but he barely presses them against the filter, anyway, as if he’s afraid it would, all of a sudden.

"Retaliation," Billy half grunts, half laughs, and Will huffs, but swallows a deep breath to gather strength. Exhales. Takes a tiny puff and―

"Argg," coughscoughscoughs "This is. Ugh. It's awful. I don't know how you―” almost throws the cigarette back to him "Ufff, what a―" he hesitates "Yuck"

Billy snorts. Thinks about Max inhaling deep, no more than two weeks ago, eyes pining his in place. Breaking into a violent cough only a second later.

Billy pats Will’s back too.

“That’s good” he says “You better not like it” Will scrunches his whole face “And this too” Billy adds, shaking the drawing a little “This is good, too. Amazingly good, man”

Will. Stares. At him. One. Two. Three long seconds. And Billy hurts a little. With every single one. Three sharp stabs with that newly freed sword. A different kind of ' you care' each one: 'it seems so impossible to me (that you care)'. 'If you think so, maybe it's true (and I do care, that you think it)’. 'Thank you (for caring)'. And then. Those hidden eyebrows. Will’s cheeks puffing out a little when he bites the tip of his tongue and―

"Billy?" his eyes glint, heavy with ill-contained malice.

"Uh?"

"You're the dragon"

"You fucking ass―!"

Billy shoves him sideways. But Will just sways. He doesn't lose footing on that firm ground he’s standing on. Looks back at the drawing, hunches a shoulder up.

"But you’re the knight, too"

He says it in a tone that cuts straight through Billy’s chest Thank you he thinks, even though his soft skin is hurting. And he still doesn't blow hard on that bowl fringe from where it covers Will’s whole forehead but―

Stirs up all his hair instead.

“Eh!!”

“Hey, shitbird. Wanna see the one I’ve made?”

Will nods quickly. All contained-speed and reverberating and sometimes Billy doesn't know how so few people can see it, how big he is for his own skin and he thinks I wish, wish he'd accumulate enough grains of sand to raise up that firm ground under his feet, and get really, really high.

“Sure!”

He keeps it tucked away in the breast pocket of his jacket. Folded in upon itself. Same way he keeps everything else. Folds and layers and at the bottom of pockets no one ever looks at but.

He unfolds it to show it to Will Byers.

“Wow” Will says, and smiles up at Billy like Two months since we crashed against each other and I feel like I know you a little too, Billy Hargrove and Billy hit rock bottom but now at least Max and him sing AC/DC in chorus on the rides back home and Will's voice sounds like 'You're good' as he runs his fingertips over the graphite outlines of the skull and repeats, "Wow"

“Gonna have it done” Billy inhales a deep drag of Marlboro and 'Four Months to Eighteen' and for a moment it’s like he could feel the smoke curl up inside his lungs before blowing it out. The image is as pretty as it’s stupid. He glances at the open jaw of the drawing and thinks maybe he'd like a drag too "Have it healed for summer and―"

“What’s happening here?”

Steve.

Harrington.

Hand on his hips, preppy pastel polo lapels up, Ray-Bans holding up that way his hair swirls without really taming it. The twelve o'clock sun is shining sideways from his back and he's pretty. Painfully pretty. And Billy’s sure it's impossible that this redneck raised on corn and money amassed in dubious moral business is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen but sometimes he forgets. That it is impossible because. Fuck. It so seems like it. Light flicking on the ends of his hair where it curls. Under his ear. In the long curve of his neck. And the world doesn't halt and the birds don't stop chirping and the clouds don't part and no preternatural shit happens because this is the black hole where all the world's shit goes, Indiana. But. It so seems like it and,

Billy.

Knew how to breathe but that’s another thing he keeps on forgetting. Every time Steve Harrington passes him by.

He’s gotta force himself. To nod. To stop choking. When Will looks up at him with those big eyes. Questioning.

Apologizing.

Billy Hargrove, from freshly crowned local terror to―

“I was―” Will starts. Inhales. Presses his lips together right before blurting out the truth ‘cause he knows it's the only real way out "Showing Billy my drawings. Sometimes we―"

―the softie whose pride goes high up in his throat every time an eleven-year-old kid says 'Billy, this is good. It's very. Very good, Billy’.

"Sometimes we. Uhm. We―"

Will's already huge eyes get bigger, rounder. As if he’s just realizing that where he's stuck his foot keeps getting muddier, trapping himself all the way in. And Billy smiles lightly at him, sideways, so it’s hidden. From Steve Harrington. From all the world beyond. ‘Cause of that thing about facades and how hard they’re to maintain, when on one side is pressing what you're supposed to be and on the other, relentlessly, what you're hiding.

But Steve’s asking,

“Sometimes―what?” and Will’s eyes are fixed on Billy, two wide-open I’m sorrys and Billy thinks Fuck it, Hargrove. C’mon. Stop hiding.

So he’s the one who says,

“We share our drawings, Harrington”

And Steve.

He’s got those eyes.

They're like a troubled ocean in the heart of winter, those eyes. Hard, hard, hard. Imposing. But soft. So fucking soft. When something catches him off guard. Rolling stones in the breaker. And Billy wants to get swept up in them, like falling along the curve of a wave. Steve looks at him, and at the drawing in his hand, his eyes a swirl and, when he looks up, the calm. And Billy feels as those times when it seemed to him the waves wanted. To wrap around him. To catch him. Soft as the reflecting clouds. And Billy feels as those times when he’d let them. Carry him. Drag him to the shore. Safe and sound.

“Is that yours?” Steve frowns. When he does that. He looks the prettiest. And Billy's heart breaks. In tiny tiny pieces. Thinks This is what it takes, thinks Fuck, thinks, This is how things hurt when you let your skin get soft.

What you don’t have. What you want. What you could―

Fuck.

What you could love so bad you'd rip your own skin off, so they could touch your heart right with their own hands.

Billy nods. Will smiles. Steve’s frown softens and― waveswaveswaves. On an autumn morning. Waves lapping at the surface of an ocean of calm.

And now. Billy sings AC/DC with Max. His heart taking on water when his voice falls off-key and she clutches at her lungs, choking on laughter. Now, he sits in the back of an old shack halfway between who he is and who he should be and so, so very carefully turns at the pages of Will Byers' sketchbook.

And Billy Hargrove hit rock bottom one day in late October. Hit rock bottom and beat into pulp that pretty face he can't stop seeing in his dream. When he's asleep. When he's awake. Hit rock bottom and that's where he's going to stay. It's either that. Or risk coming up to the wrong surface. And it's easier, here at the bottom. Easier to see what matters, when you look up.

Here, Billy takes a breath. Deep. Deeper. Holds onto that air so he has something keeping him alive underwater when Steve snatches the drawing off his hands. Studies it carefully. Says,

"It's―Uhm. Well―" Grins "It's not. Beautiful. Like, conventionally." He eyes cut back to Billy and something in them breaks into whitewater, into that softness he can't help, as if everything else is as much of a lie as 'Billy Hargrove' and all those imaginary walls "But―"

He says ‘But’ and then. The bell goes off.

"Oh!" Will bounces on the spot "I have to―" he yanks the backpack shut "Class!"

He takes off. Running. Turning around right before the corner of the shack to wave at them, flashing one of those smiles Billy has involuntarily categorized as 'the good ones', wide and already almost panting again, before disappearing at the speed of light towards school and to, Billy hopes, be one of those few kids who are still going to be laughing just as hard, just as happy, a few years down the road. If they’re lucky.

(If Billy’s lucky)

Steve Harrington is still there, planted in front of him when the alarm stops.

"Can I bump one of those?" he asks, chin pointing to the smoke Billy's squeezing between his fingers. In the drift of his hair the Ray-Bans stay afloat, capsizing.

Billy bangs the base of the pack against his thigh, pops out a cigarette. Offers it to him. Scrapes his thumb along the wheel when Steve takes it to his lips, leaning forward and― It's broad daylight but in the thin glow of the flame it almost feels like it’s that exact instant when the world begins to fade, darkness turning wide-open spaces into narrow little universes: Steve Harrington and his red lips around the smoke and a small ache in the pad of Billy's thumb from keeping alive the fire and from wanting things with a bigger kind of ache, his heart cauterizing from holding inside the rage of knowing he's never, ever going to have them but―

"But?" Billy asks.

Steve grabs his wrist. Hollows out his cheeks. Inhales deep. Takes him a moment when he pulls away. To let go. Long enough that his fingers could read the way Billy's pulse is raging in his wrist, if he wanted to.

“But” And he’s smiling. Lopsided. He slips into Will's seat and stretches his neck toward the sky. Prolongs the wait. Exhales. "It's cute."

And then his gaze cuts down and he’s searching for him, with those eyes of his. For Billy, who can never stop looking at him so, when he finds him, finds him looking back already.

And Billy―

Billy.

"Cute?"

Billy. Blinks. His hand stops halfway from getting his own cigarette to his mouth. Stops his heart and it feels like time’s stopping too, in this narrowness Steve's presence has reduced the moment into. And he’s smiling big now. His eyes soft. Soft. So fucking soft. And Billy thinks,

You're getting soft too, Billy Hargrove. You want to let him shred off your skin, when Steve says,

"You," snorting a soft laugh, sun melting in his eyes like honey "With Will. Drawing."

Billy wants him to never stop looking at him like that. Wants to lean in, and kiss him.

"Shut up and smoke your fucking cigarette, Harrington" he growls.

And Steve rolls his eyes in a way that screams 'Gotcha, Hargrove', but leans his back against the peeling wood of the shack.

And does as he’s told.

(Next Tuesday, it's not just Will who shows up, when the bell starts ringing)

i just finished translating this and, since i had originally written this part as and stand-alone thing. here it is. idk if it's worth the work of translating it whole, or if i really feel like it but, we'll see!. i've been at war with life and writing this past few weeks but i've been missing you so much, fandom <3<3<3. hope you've been doing well.

also billy + will + drawing is one of my fav hcs and there are a few tiny things more that i wanna write? hopefully i will 🌟

#harringrove #billy hargrove #will byers #steve harrington #stranger things #billy x steve #steve x billy #billy & will #xharringrove

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voiceless-terror · 4 years

Text

Recognition

@aspecarchivesweek Day Five: Something New

Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Season One

In which Jon and Martin are more alike than they thought.

Jon, in spite of himself, was starting to get used to Martin living in the Archives.

Offering him shelter had been almost instinctual- after listening to his story, who wouldn’t? Terrorized for almost two weeks and no one, no one noticed. There was also the matter of Jon’s guilt; Martin thought he needed to put himself in danger to be thorough, to please Jon, and now he was homeless. Jon owed him this at the very least. No matter how much Elias disapproved of the situation.

And despite the occasional trouser-less wanderings, his presence was...appreciated. Late nights in the Archives were wearing him down: the statements were getting to him, and the unshakeable feeling of being watched when he knew he was alone was putting him on edge. Now he can blame that feeling on Martin, who he’d caught staring on more than one occasion. Jon was not surprised; he hadn’t been looking or feeling his best, highly unprofessional with his three-day stubble and rumpled clothes. Not a good look.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t enjoy the cup of tea when Martin joined him in his worst bouts of insomnia. He would sit on the tiny couch in his office, nursing his own mug and chattering away in a low tone that Jon was starting to find soothing instead of irritating. At first Jon clammed up, uncomfortable with the sudden intrusion on his late night routine, but he soon found Martin didn’t expect him to respond or contribute, save the occasional grunt of acknowledgement. Sometimes Jon even craved the company, the familiar rhythms of Martin’s voice had become an unconscious comfort.

Tonight he was looking particularly exhausted, slumped in his seat with deep purple bags under his eyes. It sent an unwelcome pang through Jon’s chest; Martin should be sleeping, not entertaining him because he chose to stay late. He said as much.

“You don’t have to stay up on my part.”

“Hm?” Martin looked up from his lap, eyes finding Jon’s. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I like the company, to be honest. Unless…?”

“I don’t mind,” Jon assured him. Shockingly, he found he meant it. Still, it didn’t ease his guilt. Martin was always here, never leaving the Archives for more than an hour to get food or other necessities. He considered his next words. “That being said, I hope you know you’re allowed to have a life outside of the institute. I won’t judge if you want to have a...late night, or go out. It’s not my business what you do in your free time.”

Martin squinted his eyes as if he didn’t understand the words Jon spoke. Christ, do I really seem that out of touch? He knew he could be severe and well, a bit of an ass at times. The stress of the job got to him more than he cared to admit. But he didn’t want his assistants to think they should follow his example. He was Head Archivist, it fell on his shoulders to get this place in some semblance of order.

“I’m not really one for nights out, Jon,” Martin gave that familiar, self-deprecating laugh as he leaned back in his chair, an almost defeated-like set to his shoulders. “Well, besides the occasional drink with Tim and Sasha. And even those are sort of...I don’t know. They have their own thing going, and I feel like-”

“A bit of an outsider,” Jon provided before he could activate his ‘word to mouth’ filter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”

“No,” Martin cut him off. “You’re right. Feels like I’m intruding.”

“Their banter can be overwhelming for the, ah, uninitiated.” On the few times he’d gone out with them in research, he’d felt more lonely than included. His awkward attempts at interjecting could make a conversation fall flat and he felt the need to accept every drink they handed in him the hopes of ‘loosening up.’ It never worked. They were never mean about it, no- or at least had the decency not to do it in his presence.

“Tell me about it.” Martin gave Jon a tiny little smirk that sent his heart stuttering in his chest for no particular reason. “I’m used to it, is all. This isn’t much of a change in routine, worms notwithstanding.”

“You, er, don’t have friends you can meet up with? Or maybe a partner?” Christ, why am I prying? What’s gotten into me? Jon felt curious, the man practically lived with him and yet he barely knew him.

The bark of laughter he got in reply was sudden and more than self-deprecating. “A partner? Are you kidding me?” Martin’s tone threw him off-balance; it was jaded, bitter, not like him at all.

“I didn’t mean to pry-”

“No, it’s- to be frank, I don’t think I’m cut out for all that.” Martin toyed with the mug in his hands, gazing into it like it held the answers he needed. “I’ve uh, tried to go on a few dates, meet people, that sort of thing. But they all expect something at the end and it just never feels right, I can’t explain it. Like there’s something missing. ”

Jon paused; the words and their sentiment were not unfamiliar to him. In fact, they resonated quite deeply, if Martin meant what Jon thought he did.

“It’s always been that way- I get a crush, I get to know them, they want to, y’know, and I-I don’t know what's wrong with me, but I can’t-” He cut himself off, sitting up straighter as if suddenly remembering where he was and who he was talking to. “God, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this-”

“It’s fine.” And it was. Martin looked at his hands and Jon recognized the sadness in the set of his shoulders, the lines etched in his face. He never thought the two of them would have much in common but that- that was a feeling Jon knew all too well. “I think I understand what you’re getting at.”

Martin somehow managed to deflate even further, curling up as if trying to disappear. “Yeah, well- I think it’s time to admit that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.”

The words hit Jon harder than expected. His fists tightened in his lap; he was sixteen again, wondering why the kiss he stole in a backroom felt more invasive than intimate. He was reading romance novels, understanding the words but not the feelings they were supposed to invoke. He was in college, being called a ‘tease’ or a ‘prude’ when he pulled away at the end of the night. And it was all accompanied by that deep, crushing fear that he’d never be enough.

No, you’re not that kid anymore.

And Martin shouldn’t have to be either.

“What’s that look for?”

He was drawn from his thoughts at Martin’s words, looking up from the scratched wood of his desk. “Sorry?”

“You’ve- you’ve got that look on your face, like you’re const- like you’re thinking really hard.”

Jon tried to think of a way to word his query delicately, but ‘delicacy’ had never been his strong suit, according to Georgie. Come to think of it, it was never hers either. “Have you ever considered that maybe- that you’re- you’re of the persuasion, that is-”

Martin shot him a deadpan look, unimpressed. “Yeah, I know I’m gay, Jon.”

“That’s not-” He sighed in frustration, fuming at his inability to communicate. “It’s okay to not feel that way. I never have. It’s normal.”

Martin blinked. “Sorry?”

“Asexuality, that is,” he said, finally managing to get out the words. “I was...in a similar position, I guess you could say. I didn’t feel the way you were ‘supposed’ to feel, like how all the books and TV shows describe it. Zero interest in anything sexual, and I thought...well, I thought something was wrong with me.” Jon felt a lump building in his throat, much to his horror. “But being able to put a name to it, an identity, it just felt right.” Martin’s face was unreadable- had he spoken out of turn? Did he have this all wrong?

He tried to clarify. “What I’m trying to say is that I know what it’s like, that...feeling you described. But it doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for love. You...you shouldn’t have to feel that way about yourself. You’ll find people who accept you. You’re not doomed to be lonely.” Now you’re just getting sentimental. Jon wasn’t one to dole out advice. He attempted to reign it in, get himself back on solid, familiar ground. “Maybe don’t take me for an example, though. I assure you, my isolation is very much self-imposed.”

Martin didn’t laugh. For a brief, panicky moment Jon thought he might have offended him, assumed the wrong thing, taken him out of context. But Martin met his eyes and Jon saw it- a look of dawning understanding, of comprehension and knowing and as much as Jon wanted to look away he couldn’t, because for the first time in a while he thought he might have said the right thing.

_____

He watched as Martin puttered about in the break room and took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. Martin hadn’t said much after their conversation, just thanked him in a choked voice and mumbled some excuse about going off to bed. Jon felt a bit conflicted- he now had time to ruminate on the conversation, pick it apart and wonder if he said anything wrong. He didn’t think he had, but his instincts had been proven wrong before.

Still, the thought of helping one person, sparing them from that crippling self-doubt and inadequacy, made any embarrassment or awkwardness well worth it. So here he was, shuffling his feet and holding a stack of paper, stapled and neat and in some cases, annotated. He cleared his throat and Martin turned away from the sink to face him.

“Oh, g-good morning, Jon.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel, throwing it lightly on the counter. “Did you sleep well?”

He’d gotten two hours tops on the lumpy couch in his office. I need to invest in another cot. But he nodded anyway, walking forward and thrusting the pile out for Martin to take. Martin looked down at it quizzically but took it all the same, his face softening as he flipped through the pages.

“I, um- I printed out some articles that I thought might be of interest,” Jon rambled, feeling more awkward by the second. Was this too forward of me? “I’ve always found it easier to read on paper instead of the screen. For ah, concentration purposes. This- this isn’t required reading, or anything. Just might be helpful for, uh, figuring things out.”

Martin didn’t look up from the pages in his hand, instead zeroing in on them with a more intense stare. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with sincerity. “Thanks. It uh, it means a lot.”

“Yes,” Jon replied nonsensically, having no response to the emotion in Martin’s words. “You- you don’t need to talk to me about this, if you’d rather not. But I’m available if you’d like to.” He paused. Best to keep this somewhat professional- it was almost nine. “Outside of normal working hours, of course.”

“Of course,” Martin echoed, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he finally met Jon’s eyes. He fought down the urge to smile back, instead muttering an excuse and turning to flee the room. I think I’ve filled my emotional quota for the week.

They don’t talk about it again, but a few days later a sticky note appears on his desk. Thanks- MB. Underneath the clear script he’d doodled a small flag- black, grey, white, and purple.

Jon puts it in his right-hand drawer next to an old polaroid of the Admiral, where it stays.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782318

#my writing #aspecarchives #tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #cw aphobia and internalized aphobia #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #asexual jonathan sims #asexual martin blackwood #jon helps martin figure out he's ace

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morizoras-cave · 4 years

Text

Persistent (Request)

Marvel cast x f!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst-ish, fluff

Request Description: Hellooo! Could you write a all the marvel cast men x teen! reader? Like they all go out to eat and hangout at a mall or something and when she goes in the women’s part of a store while they are all on the men’s side, some creepy dude keeps on hitting on her and like after she tries to politely decline his attempts and stuff rdj and the rest are like nuh uh this ain’t happening lol

Warnings: language, hints at smexual stuff, harassment, persistent asshole

(A/N): this story includes anthony mackie, winston duke, sebastian stan, chris evans, robert downey jr and mark ruffalo. im sorry i didnt include alllll of the marvel dudes, but i just find it hard to cram them all into one fic :((( ALSO sorry if the ending is shitty hgssghsgsh

“You don’t have to bring me with you.”

“It’s too late, we’re bringing you.”

“But-”

“Y/n, you are not spending your birthday alone!”

You and Anthony were bickering like always. There was a short break in filming the next marvel movie, and while many people, including you, were planning on going home for the week, Sebastian, Anthony, Winston, Chris and Tom and arranged a ‘guys night out’, if you will.

You were going to enjoy your birthday that day with your family, but a couple of days before your family had cancelled, because of exams and overloading work. They promised you’d celebrate some other day, but you were still bummed out.

Anyway, Anthony had somehow reluctantly made you admit that you were celebrating alone, and had decided to instead drag you with him and the guys to their ‘night out’.

“I don’t wanna come and just be a bother to everyone,” you mumbled. Anthony sighed and looked at you. He then diverted his eyes back to the road.

“You’re not bothering anyone, N/n.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to cancel your plans to the strip club or whatever you were gonna do!” You stressed. Anthony gasped like a TV mean girl.

“Did you really think we were gonna go to a strip club? Y/n, that’s private business, you don’t do that with your guys.”

“Well, what then?”

The mall, apparently.

You and Anthony both stood with your necks craned to look at the proud and boasting sign, ‘mall of America’. He’d shut up after your question and just parked the car, leading you to stand exactly there, in front of that famous mall.

“You’re gonna go shopping?” you looked at him.

“Yeah, and what about it?”

Before you could start another argument with Anthony, you heard a familiar ‘hey!’ and snapped your head in the direction of the caller. Winston, Sebastian, Chris, Robert and Mark were all gathered together, seemingly waiting for you two.

“Hey, there you are! We were waiting for you,” Chris said with his usual big, dorky smile on his lips. Him and Anthony hugged and then he pulled back to look at you.

“Y/n, you okay with spending your birthday with us?”

“Whatever, man,” was all you could say, making the group burst into laughter.

You would never admit it to Anthony, or any of the others for that matter, but it was actually a lot of fun. You went into many stores for no apparent reason. The guys bought and helped you make a Build-A-Bear, which you named Svenbjorn, and he had a little detective suit and a little bag.

You ate at a Denny’s, where Mark unfortunately, but rather predictably, spilled maple syrup on himself. Then you looked around stores for fancy suits and clothes and gifts for their loved ones. Your mood was brightened, and the guys sure didn’t seem to be displeased that you were there.

“Let’s go in here real quick,” Sebastian had said, and everyone walked with him into the clothing store. You hadn’t actually bought anything that day, so you decided that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to look around a bit.

“I’m gonna go to the women’s section,” you said, pointing to the area at the other end of the store.

“Sure,” Robert waved you off, as him and the others crowded around a blue suit. You rolled your eyes and bounded off to the women’s area.

Your eyes found a pretty yellow shirt hanging on a rack near the back. You quickly made your way to it, standing and admiring it, checking the fabric and the price.

“Hey, babygirl,” a cocky voice sounded beside you. You turned your head to see a boy around your age, an ugly smirk on his lips. His words almost made you vomit the Denny’s pancakes you’d just eaten, but you shook off the feeling.

“Uh, hey,” you mumbled, turning back to the shirt. Now you fiddled with it nervously.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone, huh?” his voice was strangely predatory, something about it just didn’t sit right with you. It made you feel alerted and uncomfortable.

“Looking at shirts..”

“I bet you’d look good in this one,” he said. You didn’t have to look to know he’d found some sheer-ass, see through, titty exposer. You did however peep, and, yes.. You were right.

“Look, I’m not interested,” you sighed.

“That’s too bad, girlie, I could make you feel real good.”

You scrunched up your nose in disgust. Your fingers gave up their grasp on the shirt, deciding that it would be best to just get out of there. The sound of your boots hitting the shiny floor sounded, as you began padding away.

“Hey, wait, where are you going?” you heard him walking behind you, the action of persistence making your heartbeat speed up. You were now panicking.

“Hey! Why are you following her?” you breathed out in relief. Winston was standing not too far away, Sebastian and Anthony behind him. He had lowered his voice to sound more threatening, which you normally would laugh at, but considering the situation, you were pretty relieved he did it.

All the three men looked pretty damn angry. You didn’t know how much of the conversation they’d heard, but obviously enough. Hearing another set of boots, you snapped your head to see Chris, Mark and Robert jogging towards the scene. You made eye contact with Chris, who furrowed his brows in confusion.

The boy was now looking at the six angry and buff men, swallowing fearfully. He was shaking and surely starting to sweat. You smirked. Asshole. You walked over to stand between Sebastian and Chris.

“Are you okay?” they both murmured, searching your eyes worriedly. The fact that they were so protective of you made you smile a bit. Although, the thought that you needed several men with you to the mall to protect you kind of sucked.

“I’m alright,” you said. Meanwhile, Winston, Anthony and Robert were approaching the kid with disapproving looks.

“Didn’t your mom ever tell you to respect women? Huh?”

“What’s your issue, kid? You had such a big mouth just a moment ago?”

“Don’t ever talk to any woman like that ever again, you hear me?”

They didn’t even touch him, just the anger and seriousness in their voices and on their faces was enough to get the message into the kids head. He nodded, breath shaking. Then, he dashed off between Winston and Anthony, running out of the store, like a dog with its tail between its hind legs.

When the other three turned back to you, they were still angry.

“I can’t believe him! I can’t believe that asshole!” Anthony muttered, disbelief ridden in his voice. Winston had grown softer, looking down at you in concern.

“Are you okay, N/n? He didn’t touch you, did he?” You could tell he was actually worried.

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s okay, guys, it really wasn’t that serious,” you explained, wanting them to calm down. You couldn’t be the reason why their ‘guys night’ was ruined.

“Not that serious? Y/n, he wasn’t backing off when you told him to!” Robert seemed even angrier that you were denying the severity of the issue. You just shrugged.

“This kind of stuff happens all the time, this time I just had you guys with me,” you explained. By the looks on their faces, that wasn’t the most reassuring answer. In fact, even Chris and Sebastian and Mark (the sweetest human being ever, theoretically incapable of feeling anger) were angry now, scoffing.

“That’s not- That’s-” Chris put his hands on his hips like an angry mom. Sebastian squeezed your shoulder, making you look at him, to see his jaw clenched.

“Y/n, if that ever happens to you, no matter how big or small, just call us, please,” Anthony said, eyes catching yours to express how serious he was. You nodded. “I mean that shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call you.”

There was a moment of silence where everyone just basked in their anger, before Mark spoke up.

“Hey, how about we just continue as planned and go watch a movie at the cinema?”

Reluctantly, everyone started walking to the cinema. You noticed how your walking formation had changed, almost caging you in, protecting you. Although you, Mark and Winston kept a pretty solid conversation, you couldn’t help but overhear the other’s talking about how angry they still were. Of course, they had every right to.

The night turned out alright again, as they slowly shook off their anger. The movie was great, and it created something new to talk about other than the ‘disrespectful little shit from earlier’.

When Anthony drove you both back to the hotel you were both staying at, he had another serious conversation with you. He talked about staying safe and keeping a backup weapon and such.

He wasn’t usually serious, so you listened carefully. You were thankful that they had been there that day. So were they. And from that day on they all were a little bit more protective with you - whether it was in interviews or just in daily life - they kept you close and was always slightly suspicious of anyone talking to you.

It meant a lot to you, and you thanked them, both for their protection, for an awesome birthday, and for one bitchin’ build-a-bear :)

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @eviemarvel @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun

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backtothefanfiction · 3 years

Text

WHAT BENNY DOESN’T KNOW | Chapter 5

A TRIPLE FRONTIER STORY

Summary: One good night out turns into a two month affair.

Warnings: Mature 18+ ONLY!! Drug use, relationship abuse, mental manipulation, drinking, cheating, angst, language, smut, praise, fingering, slightly rough sex, squirting, unprotected sex (you know the phrase kids...).

Word Count: 6335

A/N- This is a heavy chapter so I have done a longer authors note here. Please read before continuing if you haven’t already read it. Events in this chapter take place 11 months before Italy and a couple weeks after Will’s chapter.

PART FIVE| 11 MONTHS AGO

'Hey Will said you were back. Want to go grab a drink tonight?'

'Yea, sure. Who else is gonna be there?'

'No one else, unless you want to invite others. I kinda just wanted to spend some time with you and catch up.'

'Okay, sounds good to me.'

Frankie had run into Will as he was coming out of a bar earlier that afternoon. He was grateful that Will hadn't notice him coming out through the doors of the establishment, allowing him the chance to pretend like he was just in the neighbourhood; and the fact they had run into each other outside a bar was just coincidence. When Will had casually dropped into conversation that you were home and that he had seen you, that had triggered something in Frankie. Whether it was just his slightly drugged up and alcohol riddled mind or something else, Frankie couldn't tell, but he knew he couldn't get you out of his head.

Frankie had always had a thing for you, ever since Benny first brought you home with him after your last tour together and introduced you to everyone. You were gorgeous, deadly and had a wicked sense of humour, you were everything he wanted in a woman and that's why he had been absolutely terrified to make a move. As time went on and you found your place amongst the group, Frankie came to appreciate how lucky he was just to have you in his life and as a friend and as time moved on further still, it became clear to him that he'd completely missed his chance.

He had started dating Laura just over a year ago now. She was nice, pretty, sassy. She reminded him of a slightly watered down version of you and believing he had fully missed his chance with you and would never get the real you, he figured he could do a lot worse than settling for Laura.

Around month nine of the relationship Frankie started to recognise he wasn't happy. He soon found himself relapsing into old habits he'd fallen into after he'd first come home for good and the PTSD had settled in. It started off as sneaking a bump off someone in the bathroom of a bar one night when they had gone out for drinks with some of Laura's friends. Just a little something to get him through the rest of the evening. A couple of days later it had happened again. It was only when Frankie had dug out his old burner phone from a lock box in the garage and contacted his old dealer, did he realise he was no longer in control anymore, but he didn't care. That's how he had ended up drunk texting you at half past three on a Tuesday afternoon asking you to go out with him for the evening so he didn't have to be at home with 'her'.

---------------------------

“Hey.” you said getting up from the booth you had commandeered as you waited for him to arrive.

“Hey.” he grinned as he wrapped you up into his arms, his head burying into your hair. It was so soft and smelt amazing, like coming home. “You been waiting here long?” he asked as he reluctantly pulled away from you, both of you sitting yourselves back in the booth. Frankie had taken a moment longer than he should have to get out of his truck when he had first arrived, prioritising snorting another line of coke up his nose off his dashboard, instead of coming straight in to you. A slight panic fogged his brain as he feared he'd taken longer than he had and made you wait ages for him.

“Nah, I only got here like 5 minutes ago or something like that.” You confessed and Frankie relaxed a bit. “Do you want me to go get the first round?” you asked, pointing towards the bar.

“No, its alright, I'll get it.” Frankie said hopping up from the seat. “What do you want?”

“I'll just take a beer.” you replied. You really were a girl after his own heart.

Frankie came back with two bottles of beer a few minutes later, handing one over to you as he tried to manoeuvre himself back into the booth without using his hands. “So when did you get back?” he asked casually, a typical conversation starter.

“Nearly two weeks ago.” you said, taking a sip of your beer.

“Where did you go again?” Frankie asked, his memory of where you'd been the last 6 months hazy.

“Colombia.” you said.

“Ahh, te dio la oportunidad de trabajar en tu espa��ol.” Ahh, gave you an opportunity to work on your Spanish.

“Cállate, mi español es muy bueno. Después de todo, aprendí de los mejores.” Shut up, my Spanish is great. I did learn from the best after all, you said stroking his ego and making him blush slightly.

“So what were you doing down there?”

You looked down at your bottle, unable to meet his eyes. “A whole load of stuff that, probably wasn't very legal.” you said, giving him as vague an answer as you possibly could. You looked up, expecting him to have a judgemental look on his face, but instead you were met with one of sympathy. You'd all landed yourselves in some form of shit or another since leaving active service and Frankie was the last person who could pass judgement.

You sat there for almost an hour just talking, drinking your first beers slowly. “You want another one?” Frankie asked, motioning to the empty bottle in your hands that you were now peeling the label off of.

“Yeah, sure.” you said with a smile. You looked to your left to find the pool table had also just become free. “Do you want a game?” you said motioning to the table where the last occupants were throwing the cues on top of it.

“Yeah sure. I'll go get the beers, you go rack ‘em up.” he said, hopping out of the booth with a smile.

You made your way over to the pool table, reaching your hand into the pocket of your jeans, searching for loose change. You took the quarters out, slotting them into the machine. The balls dropped like thunder as they were released, rolling towards the end of the table so you could pull them out the hole in the side. You rolled the discarded pool cues to the side of the table as you reached for the triangle, placing it on the top near you. You bent down to pull out the balls, dropping them blindly inside the triangle above your head. When you had pulled out the last one you stood and was met with Frankie's still smiling face making his way back over to you.

He handed you the beer and you took a sip before placing it on the edge of the table so you could use both your hands to pick out the balls, moving them into their correct spots within the triangle, then sliding them all into place. “Who's going first?” you asked Frankie who had put the pool cues that had been on the table, back into the rack on the wall, choosing his own to play with in the process.

“Well that depends, you get any better at breaking.” you screwed up your mouth at the cheap shot he'd just taken. You were a decent pool player but you were awful at getting the game started.

“Fine Morales, looks like you're going first.”

“Thank you.” he said, jokingly tipping his head at you as he put himself in position at the end of the table.

There was a loud crack as Frankie hit the triangle, the balls bouncing off each other in different directions. You winced in disbelief as he managed to pot two balls with just one shot. He flashed his eyebrows at you, showing off. “You know I think that was one of each.” you taunted him, bringing him back to earth. “You can only chose one, what's it gonna be?”

“Just because I know how much you love playing stripes...” he said leaving the sentence open with a shrug before moving himself around the table to pot one of the solid coloured balls. For a moment, both of you watched eagerly expecting it to go in, but it leaned to the right at the last second and bounced back, away from the hole.

You took a quick sip of your beer before placing it back on the side. “Ready to see how it's done.” you teased, dancing around the table sizing up your first shot. You started out with an easy shot, potting it with not much trouble. Frankie gave you a small nod of acknowledgment before you began circling the table again, working out your next move. You saw it near the corner. You lined up your shot and... clunk, you sank another ball into the hole.

You stood back from the table grinning as you looked over to him, ready to taunt. “That's two.” you said, a faint giggle at the end of the sentence. You danced around the table again looking for the next one. You decided to try your luck but ultimately missed.

“Hey, you can’t get them all in one go.” he said, pushing himself off the wall where he had been leaning. He handed you his beer to hold as he took his go. He fumbled his shot and you were soon handing his drink back to him to take your next go.

It had ended up being a quick game. You had won, easily potting ball after ball, much to Frankie's amazement. “Okay, you had to have been cheating. I want a rematch.” Frankie said, playfully challenging you.

“I mean, I am more than happy to give you one... then beat your ass again and then again and again.” you laughed.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Just rack 'em up again. I gotta go to the restroom.” he said backing away towards the door to the toilets.

When Frankie came back from the toilet he carried himself differently. He seemed both a little bit shinier but also spacey. It was a look you had recognised in people around you many times and had even, on occasion, experienced yourself. You had experimented with drugs a few times over the years, sometimes to keep your cover when trying to get intelligence out of a contact, other times just because it was a night out and you wanted to let your hair down. You never made a habit of it though. You never would have pegged Frankie of making a habit of it either, but it was becoming clearer and clearer to you, as you thought back on his behaviour at the start of the night, that it was.

“Hey, you ready?” he said as he picked his pool cue back up, snapping you away from your internal monologue. 'He's a grown man, he knows what he's doing' you berated yourself, shrugging off his actions. “You wanna break this time?” he asked you, raising his eyebrows encouragingly.

You pulled a face of discomfort. “Uhh.”

“Come on, I'll help you. You'll never get better if you don't practice.”

“Fine.” you said rolling your eyes, your footsteps falling heavier, stomping, mocking a stroppy teenager. He laughed.

“Come here.” He said ushering you to the table and taking a stance behind you. “You're problem is you doubt yourself and then get shaky on your follow through.” He said as you leant forward and lined your cue up with the ball. He leaned over with you, one hand on your left arm, helping hold it steady, the other finding a home over your hand on the cue.

He helped guide it back and you relaxed into his touch as you let him manipulate the shot. It was a gentle, yet forceful, nudge of the cue that sent the white ball careening quickly towards the waiting triangle of balls at the other end of the table. You turned back to him, smiling in triumph at the clack of balls as they scattered across the table. That's when you realised how close the two of you were. You couldn't help but look directly into his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, somehow they were both bright and glassy at the same time.

You weren't sure why you were doing it, but you found your fingers reaching for the front pocket of his jeans, hooking just the tips of them in slightly, nudging the bag of blow. His eyes grew panicked as you began to pull the small baggy from his pocket, curling it into your fingers. You bit your lower lip, trying to search his eyes for how he was going to react, if he was going to react. He didn't move. A part of you thought about just getting rid of it, just tossing it out, but you were having a good time with Frankie, he was having a good time with you. You felt safe and it had been so long since you'd had a good night out you thought 'fuck it'.

Neither of you said anything as you began to creep away, bag still firmly scrunched into your fingers. Frankie tried to act casual, attempting to go back to focusing on the game as you snuck off to the toilet. He assumed you had gone to get rid of the coke, he never imagined you'd have some yourself.

You rushed into one of the stalls, quickly assessing how best to go about this. You decided that none of the surfaces were sanitary enough to do this properly. You sighed, half excited, half still berating yourself for stooping to this, as you took a seat on top of the toilet lid. You tucked your hair out of the way before opening up the baggy and tapping only a small amount of the white powder onto the back of your hand. You listened a second, making sure there was no one else in the bathroom with you. Silence. You quickly lifted the back of your hand to your nose, closing off one of the nasal passages and then sucking in all of the powder, with your intake of air, with the other.

You'd forgotten how awful it felt in that first moment, your nose burning. You coughed and continued sniffing as you attempted to clear the passage, waiting for the initial pain and discomfort to subside. It only took a moment for the rush of euphoria to set in. You resealed the bag, then wiped off any remaining remnants on your hands, before tucking the baggy back into your clutched fingers, hiding it, as you left the stall. You quickly checked yourself over in the mirror, self consciously wiping underneath your nose, then fixing any stray hairs.

As you went back out into the bar, the effects of the drug really started to settle in. Everything seemed shinier and brighter, happier. You made your way back over to Frankie who was stood leaning against his pool cue, awaiting your return.

He stared at you intensely, trying to work out what it was that you had done with the drugs. It was only when you came to a stop directly in front of him and he got a look at your eyes did he realised what you'd truly done. He found himself breaking out into a small smile of adoration, impressed by your courageousness, but it carried with it this underlining guilt in the pit of his stomach. That feeling of guilt though was quickly quashed altogether by another feeling as you pressed yourself close to him once again so you could discreetly put the little bag back in his pocket. You gave him a sly smile and that was it. That was the moment Frankie knew he was completely in love with you. You gave him a coy grin before reaching for your pool cue and continuing the game.

Watching the coloured balls dance across the table top when you hit them, felt so much more satisfying now. You didn't even care if you were losing as long as you got to keep watching the balls of colour roll back and forth across the table. You enjoyed your beer and your company, you and Frankie nudging each other and taking any chance possible to touch one another now you were both happy and relaxed. “Come on Morales.” you said as you placed your hands over his shoulders, giving them an over exaggerated massage like he was about to go into a fight. He tried to shrug you off so he could concentrate and sink his last ball. You stopped your movements but didn't take your hands away and both of you froze watching the ball intently as he took the shot. Clunk.

He stood up straight and whirled around, wrapping you in his arms, a big grin on his face. “You know I let you win right?” you teased him.

“Sure you did.” he said placing a kiss on top of your head before leaning back slightly so he could get a better look at your smile, his arm still firmly around your shoulder. He leaned back against the table, his legs spread apart slightly so you could rest between them. You were both smiling content in the embrace, neither one of you wanting to pull away.

Frankie moved his hands to rest against your hips as he began to wrestle with the idea that had just popped into his head. He looked longingly to your lips, wanting to kiss them. Your smile faded as you scanned his face, realising what he was thinking. It was probably only 3 or 4 seconds but it felt so much longer due to the pace at which your next thoughts flooded your head. 'Oh my gosh, are we gonna kiss? What about Laura? Maybe they broke up? Oh I really want to kiss him.' then his lips were on yours and it was like someone had just set off a bunch of fireworks in your brain. Your head felt like it was fizzing and tingling, you couldn't help but smile as you melted into the kiss.

Frankie felt your lips pull tight against his as your smile burst from your lips and it only encouraged his own. He pulled away only briefly so you could both acknowledge how happy you were right then in that moment, but you quickly closed the gap again, practically throwing yourself into him, desperate to feel that tingling feeling in your brain again. At your enthusiasm, Frankie wasted no time deepening the kiss, his hands snaking down to your ass and pulling you tighter to him. This was everything he ever wanted, what he'd dreamed about for years now and it was finally happening. It felt better than he could have ever imagined it to be. Your kisses were powerful and hungry and for a moment you both almost forgot where you were.

Frankie quickly broke the kiss. You were about to protest when he took hold of your hand and started leading you to the door.

Neither of you said anything as he lead you to his truck. He gave you one more quick passionate kiss before opening the passenger side door to you and encouraging you to get in. You happily hopped in before turning back to give him another kiss as he closed the door.

He drove you both back to your place, using his spare key to let you both into the apartment. You had given each of the boys a spare key to your place just in case of emergencies but this was the first time you'd ever seen Frankie use his and it made you happy. The image of it felt so natural to you, like you were both coming home together after a long day.

You didn't have time to revel in the domesticity of it though as Frankie pulled you inside, rapidly closing the door before latching his lips back onto yours. You felt him lift you up into his arms and he carried you to your bedroom.

Your feet dropped back to the floor as you both made it through the doorway, Frankie wasting no time to start undressing you and himself between hungry kisses, both of your tongues fighting to pull each other back together after every break.

When you were both completely naked Frankie wrapped his arms tightly around your middle, lifting you slightly, walking you both towards the bed which you collapsed onto together, Frankie coming to lay on top of you. You reached your hands up into his hair as he covered your naked body with his own. It was only in that moment that you fully realised he hadn't been wearing his trademark hat this evening. You made a mental note of the actions significance and happily kept smiling and giggling into his kisses.

A sudden feeling took over in the pit of your stomach as you watched Frankie's gaze darken, his lust for you taking over at your joyful sounds and the way your naked body moved underneath him. You felt his hands move to your hips and he suddenly flipped you over onto your stomach before guiding your hips up so you were resting on your knees, your ass and pussy on full display for him. “Oh god.” Frankie groaned at the sight. “Hold it there baby, there's something I wanna do.”

You felt him get off the bed and heard him shuffle around on the floor for something. It took you a moment for your brain to realise what he was doing. He was rooting back into his pocket for the cocaine. You thought about saying something but decided not to for fear it would ruin the moment and this would all stop. This was Frankie. You had wanted this for so long and you were willing to put up with anything just to have his love and attention all to yourself.

You felt his hand smooth over your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh, giving it a squeeze before he let go. You shifted your head slightly so you could look back and watch him as he opened the little baggy and began gently patting the powder out of it, leaving a line of it across your right cheek. The dark look in his eyes as he stared at the sight made your knees want to go weak. He could sense the slight tremble within you, “Hold still for me baby.” he said as he took hold of you again, his hands firmly placed either side of your ass, holding you still. You closed your eyes, thinking if you didn't see what was about to happen, maybe you could act like it never did.

It all happened so quickly you didn't even have time to really take it in. Frankie quickly leant down, taking the powder up his nose, his tongue coming out to lick up any remaining powder before he thrust his face between your folds. You let out a startled squeal of pleasure as you felt Frankie's tongue dive straight in, catching you completely off guard. His patchy facial hair tickled your skin and you jerked back further towards his face, Frankie moaning in pleasure at the feeling.

He quickly pulled his mouth away, thrusting two fingers inside you instead, stretching you out and making sure you were ready. His fingers took a moment to explore your heat and you moaned as this thick fingers stroked your inner walls. You let out a groan when he took his fingers out and you were about to lift your head to turn and whine pathetically about it when he suddenly thrust his cock inside you.

“Oh fuck.” you cried out as you attempted to adjust to his size. He leant over you, his arm wrapping around your upper chest, pulling you to your hands. His head nuzzled into your neck, trying to get you to turn your head so he could kiss you. As you began to turn it towards him, his hand that had been holding your chest moved up to grasp your jaw, forcing your lips to his. He felt you clench around him as you reacted to the power move and he gently rolled his hips into you, your back arching, trying to encourage him even deeper.

He began pounding into you rapidly as he straightened himself up again. His grip on your hips was firm, holding you steady, pulling you back into him with every thrust. The feeling was overwhelming and the lingering effects of the cocaine only heightened everything more. “Oh my god baby, you feel so fucking good.” he praised you as your moans of pleasure rang out through the room.

You felt him lean forward again and you turned your head, seeking out his lips once more. “I've wanted this for so fucking long.” he grunted out between kisses. He almost melted when you moaned back into his lips in response to his words. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling your back into his chest again, making his rapid thrusts even deeper. He was hitting a certain spot inside you and it was devastating, your eyes wanting to roll back into your head as you relaxed it against his shoulder.

A feeling began to rise inside you. It felt so overwhelming and rapid you weren't even sure what was happening until it had already happened. Frankie felt your walls pushing back against him and when he thrust back he was forced out of you completely, your release gushing all over his cock and the bed. “Jesus fucking Christ did you just-” he couldn't even say the word. He was so fucking happy and impressed, but he saw the look of surprise on your face. He quickly crashed his lips into yours as he tried to reassure you that what had happened was a good thing. No a great thing. “Fucking do it again for me baby.” he said as he lined himself back up with your entrance and thrusted himself inside you once more.

You couldn't help but cry out, your mouth falling open against his. You felt so sensitive between your legs it didn't take much time at all before Frankie had you squirting again. “That's it, that's my girl. You're so fucking beautiful when you do that baby.” he said as he turned you around to face him. He could tell your eyes were unfocussed, completely blissed out from each devastating orgasm he was pulling from you.

He placed his hands either side of your head, smoothing your hair out of your face as he kissed it. He sat himself back on the bed, trying to avoid the wet patch on the sheets, pulling you to sit on top of him. He held you close as he pulled you back down onto his erection and you relaxed your head against his shoulder as he continued to smooth your hair. He began rocking you gently on top of him, letting you have a small break, both of you enjoying the moment of being close.

When you felt your strength coming back to you, you lifted your head from his shoulder, fixing your lips to his again. He lifted you in his arms, laying you back on the bed. He lifted your legs back, allowing him to push himself deeper inside you as his thrust began to pick up again.

You placed your hands either side of his head, forcing your eyes to focus on one another. “Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful.” he said, his forehead pressing into yours. You're mouth hung open again, your breaths coming out fast inbetween his thrusts, your moans stuttering wordlessly from your lips. He could tell your eyes were starting to become unfocussed again as your next orgasm built inside you.

He placed his hands under your hips, lifting them slightly allowing his thrusts to reach deeper still. The feeling inside you was devastating and your hand reached to rub circles over your clit, encouraging your release to come even faster. Once again Frankie felt himself being forced out from inside you as you once again gushed all over him and the bed, only this time he had a much better view. He was getting so close to his own climax and this only spurred him on even more. He barely gave you a moment to recover before he was thrusting himself back deep inside you.

His thrust were rapid as he chased his own finish and your fingers clawed at his back as you tried to ground yourself. Frankie let out a deep growl as he buried his head into the crook of your neck. His thrusts became sporadic, stuttering as he lifted his head to capture your lips in his own as he finished inside you. He stilled inside you and you relaxed into his arms as you felt every pulse of his cock inside you. It was a feeling that made you feel proud.

You looked up into his eyes. They were ones of complete bliss and adoration. You wanted to tell him you loved him but the words caught in your mouth so you settled for kissing him once more. This time the kiss was tender and not just because you were both exhausted. It said everything you both didn't feel like you could say. A silent acknowledgment of love.

------------------

“Hey where are you going?” you asked him as he climbed from the bed an hour later and began pulling on his clothes.

“I gotta go.” he said as he shrugged on his t-shirt, unable to meet your eyes,

“Oh, okay.” you said, sitting up and curling your knees up to your chest. You watched him silently as your racing thoughts from the bar slowly started coming back to you. They were more prominent now in this post sex quiet. “Frankie.” your voice said tentatively. It was half broken as the reality of the situation set in and an ache began to form in your chest, along with a churning feeling in your stomach. He looked back at you, eyes sorrowful.

Frankie felt like he had just been punched in the gut. He could see the hurt behind your eyes and it killed him. He knew his love for you was so great and he hated that he was hurting you in this moment. He made his way across the room to you, his arms leaning on the bed either side of you as he leant down to kiss you. “I'm gonna make this right, I promise.” he said as you dipped your head away from him. He gave you a tender kiss on your fore head. “I'll text you in the morning.” he said before placing a hand under your chin, encouraging you to lift your head once more so he could give you a final kiss goodbye. You could only watch silently and helplessly from your bed as he turned and walked away. You practically flinched as you heard the front door close behind him, the sound echoing around your quiet apartment, the reality of your actions setting in. What the fuck had you done.

---------------------

True to his word, Frankie had indeed messaged you the following morning. There was no mention of Laura just an 'I really want to see you. Can I come over later.' You had of course said yes and you had both had a repeat of the night before, just this time with pizza and TV. You had wanted him to stay, but you also understood why he couldn't. He promised you he would soon though.

You had both carried on that way, the days turning into weeks. Wild nights turning into wild afternoons, always with the promise that at some point Frankie would break up with Laura and you would be together properly soon.

One week turned into two months and with every passing day your feelings for Frankie were growing stronger and stronger. You didn't care if he hadn't left Laura yet. You didn't care about the drugs, mostly because you could see he was using less and less when he was around you. You could see he was getting better. He was happier and shinier and you knew when he was ready he would end things with her and move in with you.

It was a Saturday evening when he turned up on your doorstep drunk and high and unable to get his key into the lock to let himself in. When you finally opened the door to him there were tears in his eyes. “Frankie?” his name fell from your lips as a question as he stumbled through the door. He made a beeline for your kitchen, searching the cupboards for more alcohol to drink.

You rushed over to him as you saw him pull a half full bottle of whiskey from the cupboard. He didn't even bother to get himself a glass, just started sipping it straight from the bottle. “Frankie, what the fuck is going on?” you asked as you snatched the bottle from his grasp.

“She's pregnant.” he choked out. Your face dropped, complete shock taking over.

“What?” your voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Laura, she's pregnant.” he said again. His gaze wouldn't lift from a spot on the floor. There was silence between you as you both let the information settle in.

“What are you going to do?” you asked him tentatively.

“I love you.”

“What?”

“I love you.” he said again, finally looking up to meet your eyes.

“No-”

“I don't want to be with her-”

“Frankie she's carrying your kid.”

“I don't want to be with her, I want to be with you.” he said again stepping towards you, his hands outstretched reaching for you. You remained frozen to the spot as his hands rested either side of your face. “I love you. I don't love her, I want to be with you.”

“How long have you know?” you asked him, your voice cold. He was silent. “How long have you known?” you asked him again, your voice rising, becoming desperate.

“About a week.” he finally admitted. You stepped backwards, away from his touch, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks. “Please baby, please-” he began to beg, trying to step forward and close the distance between you again but you kept stepping away, shaking your head in disbelief. “Please, you make me better. I'm better when I'm with you.” You turned away from him, leaving the room in an attempt to get away, panic rising up inside you.

“I'll tell her everything, I'll get help, I promise just please-”

“FRANKIE STOP!” you shouted, rounding on him. He finally fell silent, allowing you a moment to breathe, to think. “I can't do this anymore.” your voice said broken. “If you really loved me, if you were actually going to leave her you would have done it weeks ago when you said you would. If you didn't want to be with her, why were you still sleeping with her, why did you get her pregnant-”

“I don't even remember it.” his voice came back broken and his knees gave way, his back leaning against the open kitchen door. He was sobbing now.

“Frankie, you need help.” you said to him tenderly as you made your way towards him. You sat on the floor beside him, your head leaning on his shoulder. His head slumped against yours in defeat.

“How did I fuck this up so bad?” he asked you. You didn't answer. You didn't need to. “I wish I had a time machine, like that car in that movie, back to the future,,, or that hot tub in that stupid movie Benny made me watch.” he started, his voice calming. “I wish I could go back to when I first met you and tell you how I felt about you. I wish I had told you I loved you the moment I saw you. I wish I'd never let Will or Santiago have the chance to fuck you before I did. Maybe then you would be the one carrying my child right now and not her.”

You let his words hang in the air. You wished more than anything that things could be different right now but they weren't. Frankie had a drug addiction. He had cheated on his girlfriend with you. He had promised you he would leave her but he didn't. Instead he had gotten her pregnant. You had been willing to over look so much for Frankie but for your own sake you couldn't do it anymore. There was a child involved now and there was no way you were gonna hang around and make this situation more difficult for everyone. “I'm gonna go to Italy.” you told him. He looked at you lost.

You had gotten the call that morning. You had been wondering all day whether or not you should take the job but now you saw it as the only option you had. You both needed space. Frankie needed to be there for Laura, for his kid and you couldn't be here as a temptation for him. “My supervisor called this morning about a job in Italy. I think I'm gonna go. I think we both just need some space away from each other to clear our heads.”

“How long?”

“I don't know. Could be a couple of months, could be longer.”

“I love you.” he said again after a moments silence, hoping it would change your mind, hoping it would make you stay.

“Promise me you'll get help Frankie.” was all you said. You were on the next flight to Italy the following morning.

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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The Obey Me Cast on a Camping Trip (Part Two: The Undateables)

This post is split in two due to length (I had too much fun again…) For the Brothers, please click HERE!

Intro:

Another day, another team building activity between the demons and the exchange students. It was Diavolo’s idea to go on a camping trip to the human world (because of course it was), and there were very… mixed responses. That sentiment wasn’t helped when he refused Lucifer’s insistent pleas to just purchase cabins for everyone to stay in. Oh no, the Demon Lord wanted to rough it out in the wilderness, and now everyone else was getting dragged along with him…

Wonder how that turned out?

Diavolo

He was soooo excited to get to experience camping! He had been asking the MC about human camping trips for about a week before making the announcement and he was pumped!!

Barbatos chauffeured him to the campsite in his own car (of course) but he insisted on taking every roadside, touristy stop they came across which doubled the drive time considerably…

He wanted to help everybody set up the camp but Barbatos and Lucifer were having none of it… So he took pictures and offered moral support instead! Good work everyone! 😁

He had his own tent about the size of a small house (ngl it took Barbs and Lucifer about a half hour to set the whole thing up). Barbs even somehow managed to pack a collapsible desk in there for him so he could still work… greeeat…. 🙄

Diavolo wanted to try everything. Literally everything. The man even traded his uniform out for full on outdoors gear, right down to one of those floppy fishing hats with the tackle stuck to it.

Politely insistently asks that Lucifer does things with him. The MC could come along as well (and in many cases Luci begs them to do so) but he wants to get some bonding time in with his best friend!

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Diavolo would get sidetracked quite a lot… Which is how he ended up having to physically steer his Lord out of harm's way more than once…

At one point while hiking, Diavolo was so distracted by taking pictures that he nearly walked right into the path of a passing bear and her cubs. Lucifer had to tackle him down into some bushes until they went away... His brothers teased him mercilessly when they heard about...

Dia also loved the camping food quite a bit. He's never gotten the chance to cook his own food before, even if it's just marshmallows over a fire, so it was all a brand new experience for him! S'mores are now declared a human world delicacy.

Man had the time of his life! He'd love to do it again, hell, maybe even make it a yearly event! (Few of the brothers share his sentiment, but hey, it pays to be King 😏)

Barbatos

If his Lord orders it, then he follows. He'll just have to double check that everyone is prepared for the occasion…

Drove Diavolo there with the patience of a saint (while also, like, being the exact opposite of that). Had it been anyone else in the car, they might have told him, "No, we can't stop for pictures of every moose you see," but Barbs is as accommodating as he is loyal.

It was pretty much all on his shoulders to direct the others when setting up camp. Lucifer would claim it was his, but let’s be completely honest here, Lucifer can't order Barbs to do shit.

Naturally, he had his own tent close to his Lord, more modest in comparison, but big enough to hold a majority of the belongings and gear Diavolo had requested.

He also managed to bring a almost fully functioning kitchen setup for him using magic, minus a working oven by Diavolo's instruction. If he wanted a heat source, he had to use the campfire and he found the challenge intriguing…

For once in his extended life, Barbs had to do some trial and error in the kitchen. As it would turn out, fireside cooking can be a little difficult to master, but by the end of the trip he could still somehow dish out four course meals without so much as a sweat (according to the MC the secret was tinfoil and cast-iron cookware… who knew?)

When he isn’t prepping their next meal (which let’s be honest, with Beel on the trip that’s a constant activity) he’s guarding the food from Beel and Solomon…

The sorcerer wanted to help, but Barbs has already learned the hard way that if he so much as pokes a dish its flavor is ruined… It’s enough to make him wonder if it was a curse laid on him at some point…

Watching Barbatos deny Solomon becomes a pretty funny routine in and of itself. He’s not above just smacking the man’s hand away with a wooden spoon if it gets too close. Barbs doesn’t play in his kitchen. Back off. 😠

Barbatos is happy with the trip so long as the young Lord enjoyed himself. If that’s the case, and it was, then he’d happily do it again if asked… not that he’d have much of a choice anyway.

Simeon

Simeon was familiar with the concept of camping, he’d written about it in his stories, but he’d never actually done it himself… He had hoped it'd be an interesting experience! And uh… it was that from the very start…

Purgatory Hall got its own car and Solomon was put in charge of driving… But no one mentioned that he drives like a complete maniac. Speed limits, stoplights, even the ROAD ITSELF be damned. Solomon drives in a straight line from point A to point B and if there’s anything in the way he’ll just use magic to get around it…

It’s safe to say that by the time he and the others got to the campsite (which was significantly quicker than the rest) the angels weren’t in the emotional state to pitch tents… He and Luke just waited for the others to catch up while praying and praising the solid ground beneath their feet…

He shared his tent with Luke and didn’t mind at all. It was probably for the best anyway because the little angel was scared of human world predators like bears and wolves coming for him in the night… Poor boy…

Simeon took to hiking quite a bit. Going out and exploring the area around the campsite made him feel invigorated! The forests were beautiful and it gave him ideas for a bit of a guilty pleasure he's been debating on writing, "The Tale of the Lonely Prince." 🤭

It was on one of those trips that Simeon discovered human world creatures love him. Pretty much all of the wildlife gravitates towards him like he's a Disney Princess.

At one point he came back to camp riding on a moose with birds chirping on his new friend's antlers. He offered to take the MC out for a ride, but the brothers threw a fit about it…

He WAS able to get a couple more wrangled for Diavolo, who naturally dragged Lucifer along (though he clearly didn't want to touch the thing).

The three ended up getting into a mooseback race because Diavolo wouldn't let Lucifer take the lead. He was glad to see Luci enjoy himself for a change! (It helped a lot that he won of course 🙄😏)

All and all, Simeon had a great time. Maybe he should ask the MC to show him more human places… But he's never getting in a car again. Pardon his language, but fuck those things!!!

Luke

He doesn't know what's worse… being out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of demons or the absolute insanity that was the "drive" down… 😣

He spent the entirety of Solomon's Magical Ride of Nightmares clinging to Simeon or the armrests for dear life. He swore his entire life flashed before his eyes, can angels even have heart attacks???

Stayed right next to Simeon when they finally pulled themselves together enough to leave the car. He was so happy that Michael didn't see any of that… Who knew human transportation was so horrifying…???

His saving grace (literally) was getting to share his tent with Simeon… After Solomon told him that bears sometimes get curious and ransacked campsites, he clung onto the older angel like a protective charm.

...Whiiiich he wasn't too off about actually after he saw Simeon playing (yes PLAYING) with the human wildlife… Simeon had to introduce him to some of the nicer animals for him to eventually get over his fear and venture out past the campsite.

Luke loved to swim in the lake or river with MC and the others. The MC found a sturdy branch where they set up a rope swing and the little guy amused himself for hours!

Sometimes he'd watch Barbatos prep and cook using the campfire… He didn't even know you could make lasagna in a Dutch oven…

At one point the MC convinced him to go with them and the twins on a particularly long hike…

He got tired halfway through and Beel offered him a piggyback ride, but of course he'd NEVER let himself be that close to a demon!! (Just kidding, poor boy was so tired he climbed onto Beel's back and held on the a kola until they got back. Then he jumped off to save face)

He had a better time than he thought he would, but still doesn't want to go camping with demons ever again. (He and Simeon also begged Lucifer to drive them back instead of Solomon so the brothers' van was pretty much a clown car on the return trip).

Solomon

Solomon hasn't been camping (for enjoyment) in quite a while, so when the prospect came up to do it with the MC and the other students he was intrigued...

When Simeon asked he knew how to drive, he said yes. He knows how to start a car, put it into motion, steer, and then come to a stop. That's all driving is really. 🤷‍♀️ You can't blame him for not memorizing all the rules, he's been traveling by portal for decades!

Was pretty confused why his angel friends fled the car so quickly... He got them there in one piece, after all. 😕🤷‍♀️ He put up their tents himself since they were too busy thanking their father then made a magic barrier around the site for protection purposes.

He and the MC both have their own tents, of course his is enchanted to be a lot bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, but he's only let the MC in on that little secret in case they want to visit… 😏

When everyone else finally arrived, Solomon was happy to help the MC introduce the wonders of the human wilderness to their companions! Including the breathtaking vistas, beautiful flora, bitter temperatures, man-eating predators, waters filled with disease… Hm? Oh, Luke won't leave the tent now…? Whoopsie.

Solomon kept himself occupied on the trip the best way he knew how… relentless trolling (particularly of Asmo and Barbs because they're used to his shit).

He'd alternate between poking fun at Asmo for the almost ritual length routines he was going through to try and save his looks to genuinely trying to encourage him and downplay the severity of the downgrade...

Meanwhile he was bound and determined to serve at least one of his own dishes during the trip (but Barbatos had banned him from the "kitchen," the food tent, and even the spoons...)

Diavolo, nice guy that he is, eventually made Barbs relent and let Solomon cook for ONE night… It went as well as to be expected. (They sent Solomon to grab more supplies then everybody took turns washing their mouths out with lake water... Diavolo apologized profusely, he had no idea...).

Solomon was confused why the angels would rather squeeze themselves in with the brothers than ride with him back but he wasn’t upset about it. That meant he could make a few extra stops without anyone complaining! He knows a guy in New Orleans he’s been meaning to see again… Luke and Simeon can wait a little for their stuff, right?

Click HERE for Part One. Check out my Masterlist for more!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me undateables #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years

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Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 18:

“That’s pretty much all I got from him,” You sighed, picking at your fingernails. “That he doesn’t want me to know because other people talk bad about him.”

“That’s...” Selene trailed off, seemingly just as lost for words as you were.

Your best friend was making tea for the both of you, bustling around her kitchen as you spoke. Truthfully, you were thankful she invited you over. You didn’t think you could process this information by yourself.

You’d been going back and forth over it all day, trying to decide whether or not it was your place to share what you knew with Selene. You wanted to keep sacred the trust Bakugou had in you, but on the other hand, the longer you thought about his words the more worried you became. Deliberating on it further wouldn’t help you, but maybe talking about it would?

Either way, you just decided to cut your losses. Maybe a stronger woman could’ve kept this too herself and been fine, but you simply weren’t her.

“Yeah. I know.” You responded, falling back against her couch, and slumping into the armrest. “I have no idea what to do with that. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I can’t come up with any scenario that’s good.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” She nods, bringing your mug over to you.

“It’s just- I can only think of two reasons why that’d upset him so much, right?” You sip your tea. “One- he’s just being overly dramatic about it, but honestly, considering Bakugou’s reactions, that doesn’t seem to be the case. And two...”

You wrung your hands nervously. Selene only sat down next to you, a hand on your shoulder urging you to continue.

“Or h-he’s a bad guy. A really bad guy.” You spoke, suddenly sick to your stomach. “Like, a criminal or something. I mean, that’s the only way right? He said people talked about him, a lot, using his name, and then said I could look him up and find bad things, so that has to mean he’s like comitting crimes right? That he’s probably not good, and he’s got a record, because why else would anyone talk that badly about him, so much to the point where it’s synonymous with his name, if he didn’t do something horrific?”

You pulled your knees up to your chest, curling your arms protectively around them. Saying all of this out loud made you feel sick, but you truly couldn’t think of another explanation.

“Maybe...” Selene tried, but she seemed to be coming to your same conclusions as well. “Yeah. That’s- I can’t think of another reason either.”

“Yep.” You admitted defeatedly.

Silence fell over the room as you sipped from your mug. You tea was piping hot, nearly boiling, but it didn’t make you feel any warmer. You were cold, and you couldn’t stop your fingers from trembling.

You wanted to believe he was good, and you still sort of did from your personal interactions with Bakugou- But if looking up his name would show you a record of all his past actions, and if he was ashamed of them? Then how good could your soulmate really be?

It made you sick to think about. You’d wanted to save people and help them and do good your entire life- you didn’t think you’d be able to handle learning that your soulmate didn’t feel the same. That he hurt people instead.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Selene slug an arm around you, pulling you into her side. “Maybe- maybe it’s a misunderstanding, you know? Have you tried talking to him again about it?”

“No. Can’t.” You pull your phone from your back pocket, opening your messages to him. “Look what he sent me this morning.”

“He sent that at 5? In the morning?” Selene asks. “That’s.....”

“Suspicious.” You huffed, grabbing your phone from her and turning it off. “You don’t have to tell me. I know.”

“Y/n,” Selene lays her head on yours, squeezing you close to her. “I’m sorry. I-I know you were excited about him.”

“Yep. I was.” You wrap your arms tighter around yourself. “You know what’s even worse though?”

“What?”

“I-I think I meant it when I told him I’d like him anyway.” You confessed quietly. “Even if I did find out he was bad, I-I’m not sure I’d stop talking to him.”

Selene didn’t say anything, only pulling you even closer as you sniffled.

If thinking about Bakugou’s words made you feel sick, your own feelings made you downright nauseous. You truly didn’t think you’d be able to stop talking to him- you were already far too attached.

You couldn’t explain it either: why you already felt so, so, tied to him.

All you knew was you’d been waiting your entire life to be as happy as Bakugou made you. All you knew was that the sound of his voice made your heart jump and settle at the same time. All you knew is that your soul was finally being completed- and, selfishly, so, so, selfishly you weren’t sure you could ever give that up.

Selene leaned forward, grabbing her TV remote off the coffee table in front of you.

“Don’t. Please.” You sighed. “I love you, but I really don’t want to watch your trashy reality shows right now.”

“I’m not, I’m not, don’t worry,” She knocks her shoulders lightly into yours. “Just local news for background noise.”

You groaned.

“What?” She asked, looking at you a little strangely. “Did Bakugou give you a problem with the news now, too?”

“No, this- it’s not about him.” You rubbed at your eyes tiredly. “I still have that project remember? I usually watch the news for inspiration, so it just reminded me of it ‘sall.”

“Oh, okay. You want me to turn it off?”

“No, it’s fine- it’s already on.” You curled into yourself just a bit more, voice tired and depressed as you felt. “Might as well just watch the hero stuff just incase I suddenly, like, get divine inspiration or something.”

“Oh my- you make it sound like you’re doomed!” She nudged you playfully. “C’mon, Y/n we can watch it together. You never know, maybe both of our single brain cells can think of something.”

You just huffed a laugh, taking another sip of your tea and focusing on the TV.

On screen was another disaster scene, except this time in Jaku City. The city was decimated- buildings were turned sideways, smoke and fire were billowing, and loud explosions could be heard. There was another tar monster, but this time it was a lot larger than the one in Hosu. It was a black, twitching, fluid mass of poison that sucked up everything in it’s path, and seemed to be resistant to almost all attacks.

There were multiple heroes on the scene, but it was all the same top pros you’d been seeing for what felt like years now. You recognized Deku, Shoto, and Uravity all working together, attacking and regrouping in the fray. It didn’t seem like they were making any progress, though.

“Top pros have been working to stop the threat for hours now, but almost no progress has been made,” A reporter suddenly stepped into the frame, face visibly anxious. “They’ve been at it since early in the morning, but there has been virtually no change since they first infiltrated the hideout....”

You zoned out. You didn’t know who you were kidding, you couldn’t get anything done. Your brain just couldn’t seem to focus on anything but your soulmate.

—/—

Bakugou still hadn’t texted you, and it’d been three days. You’d check your phone almost constantly, hoping and praying for even a single buzz, but it never made a difference.

On the fourth day, you texted him.

You don’t know what made you send the last two texts. You couldn’t explain it, even to yourself- but something just felt wrong.

Bakugou hadn’t missed a single text from you since the very first day you contacted him. He might’ve been angry, and harsh, and volatile, but he was consistent. Even if he’d complain the entire time, he’d answer you, he always did. And if you didn’t contact him first, then he reached out to you. Either way, he was always around for you.

But not this time.

Days went by and your texts stayed unread. There was a pit in your stomach, one that was steadily growing by the hour, and by the end of that week you felt like you were gonna cry. Every second was spent worrying, you couldn’t focus, and your school work was suffering. Nothing seemed to make you feel better. You weren’t sure when you let him burrow so far into your heart, but he was there now, and there was no use denying it.

Your earlier questions about who he was, and whether or not he was good, seemed to fade entirely. You just wanted to hear his voice again. You just missed him. The ache you carried with you became a solid thing- sitting cold and heavy on top of a heart that had just learned how to be warm and weightless. You hurt, everywhere, and all you wanted was for him to be okay.

Your phone was never far away, in your hands or pocket every second of the day- even when you fell asleep. But it didn’t matter. You phone never rang no matter how much you willed it to.

-/---

lmao this is kinda short,, but the original draft was wAY too long so i had to split it ahaha

#mha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou soulmate au #bakugou soulmate textfic #bnha fic #mha fic

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ificanthaveu · 4 years

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Don’t Tell The RA || Shawn Mendes

Description: RA!Shawn asks for your help with studying for your final exam, but an RA should always expect the unexpected.

A/N: Happy 1st day of my semi-not-really-ficmas! I’m positive I’ve used every winter/Christmas themed fic idea, but I scrounged together a few so here’s the first of the installment. These’ll probably all be pretty short (except for 1 probably bc i have a lot of ideas for it). Also.....if this gif doesn’t look like RA!Shawn trying to get his freshmen boys to stfu so they can start and end the hall meeting ASAP.

Word Count: 2.4k

You were the first person out of the room when your History professor dismissed you, meeting your awaiting roommate Micah across the hall. The two of you started walking back to your dorm without much of a word until she launched into how difficult her calculus exam is going to be.

“At least it’s related to your major. I’m about to fail a gen-ed,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “I’ve never liked History, and this is a literal nightmare.”

“Hey, only one more test, and we’re done,” she reminded you.

Before you could respond to her, you heard your name being yelled from behind you. The both of you stopped and turned around to see Shawn maneuvering his way in and out of people, his tall stature poking out from the rest as you smiled at him.

“Have you started studying for the final yet?” He asked as he fell into step with you and Micah, making your way out of the building.

You practically snorted with a head shake before you said, “Absolutely not. I’ve been so caught up in my biology classes that I’ve barely started looking at this. It’s not looking good for me.”

“We get it. You’re pre-med,” Micah mumbled before you elbowed her.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve cracked open the textbook since the first week,” he said.

“Oh, you opened yours? Mine’s still in the plastic wrap,” you said as proud as you could.

That earned a laugh from Shawn as he shook his head at you.

“You may be worse off than I am,” he said.

He paused for a moment, looking between you and where he had to turn to go to the freshman dorms, opposite campus from the junior ones.

“Would you wanna study tonight?” He asked.

You heard Micah choke on her breath as you prayed he didn’t hear it.

“Yeah, I definitely need it,” you replied.

“Can’t do it in our room,” Micah interjected quickly. “Josie is coming over for calc.”

“We can study at mine,” he said. “If that’s ok with you of course. We just might get interrupted by check-out questions.”

“Sounds just fine with me. I could never do what you do,” you said, looking up at him as he shrugged and looked away, the blush almost evident on his cheeks.

“Well, my room and board is paid for, so I’ll deal with throwing up freshmen in the bathroom at 2 am,” he said. “Does 7 work?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said as you turned to go towards your dorm. “See you then.”

Micah followed behind you as you began to cross campus, waiting until you were clearly out of earshot of Shawn.

“You really had to say we couldn’t do it in our dorm?” You asked as you gripped onto her wrist and she laughed. “Now I have to be extra alone with him.”

“That’s the point,” she said flatly. “Don’t act like you haven’t been staring at him all semester. That man is the total package.”

“And we’re studying together, nothing else,” you quickly pointed out.

“Well it may start that way but-“ you cut her off before she could finish.

“Don’t say something that won’t come true,” you said as you swiped into the building and walked up the stairs to your dorm.

“You wish it will though,” she said in a sing-song voice as you unlocked your door and pushed her in.

“So what are you wearing?” She asked as she whipped open your closet.

“I’m not changing,” you said.

Micah turned around and looked up and down at your sweatpants and sweatshirt with a look of disgust.

“Can you at least put leggings on and a clean sweatshirt? Maybe put your hair in a pony-tail instead of that bun that looks like it was slept in - scratch that - a bun that was slept in,” she said as she threw you a pair of black leggings and a school crewneck.

“This is ridiculous,” you mumbled as you changed.

“You’ll thank me later,” she called after you.

It had started snowing by the time 6:45 came around, and you began your trip across campus. You were regretting not wearing a jacket as you shivered and crossed your arms tightly around your chest.

The person at the front desk smiled at you as you made your way up to Shawn’s dorm, scanning the rooms for the one that said “Residential Assistant” on the front.

You knocked twice once you found it, rocking back and forth on your feet and trying to shake the cold. You glanced around at the winter-themed decorations around the hall before Shawn swung the door open.

“Hey,” he said brightly with that big smile that made you weak. “You look freezing.”

“I am,” you said as he welcomed you in. “Big mistake not wearing a coat.”

You scanned over his room quickly as he shut the door behind the two of you. He had white Christmas lights strung along his window, making for a beautiful reflection mixed with the snow. His overhead light was off, but the lamp beside his futon was on. It was surprisingly clean, but you attributed that to him never knowing when someone was going to need to talk to him.

Two mugs were situated on his desk in the corner of the room. He crossed the room and grabbed one and handed it to you.

“It’s mint tea,” he said. “Helps with studying.”

“Ah, of course,” you said, taking the mug and sitting on his, surprisingly comfortable, futon.

“And a blanket,” he said as he pulled it from the back of the couch. “Since you look like you might have hypothermia.”

“Thank you,” you said softly as you wrapped it tightly around your shoulders.

You pulled out your book and binder, flipping to the study guide that was handed out in class.

“Ok, where do you want to start?” You asked as Shawn pulled his slightly crumpled study guide from where it was tucked in his book.

“Well, I know nothing,” he said as he scanned over the paper. “Actually, I know one.”

“Which one?”

“The one he told us the answer for today.”

“That does not count.”

The two of you determined an order to study from as you kept his open textbook balancing on both of your knees, occasionally having to lean closer to the other to take a look at a passage.

Shawn skimmed the page, pointing at a passage and trying to explain it to you as you looked at him. You couldn’t hear a word he said as you watched how into the topic he got, using his hands to try to express his point. You sent the butterflies to the bottom of your stomach by taking a giant sip of the tea and moving onto the next question.

He asked you the next one, taking the textbook from you as you leaned an arm on the back of the futon. You glanced between him and the mini Christmas tree in the corner as you tried to explain it as best you can without the book as a crutch.

You looked back at him, his head cocked to the side and an interested look on his face. A few curls fell onto his forehead as he studied you. You tried to keep talking as his gaze was unwavering.

“Sounds right to me,” he said, his face dangerously close to yours as he also leaned his arm on the back.

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” you whispered. “Were you even looking at the book to make sure I was right?” You teased.

“I had something else I had to look at,” he said at the same volume.

You felt him lean in as you did the same. You could feel his breath fan over your lips as your hand rested on his knee.

Three solid knocks sent you flying away from each other.

Shawn cursed under his break as he stood up and swung the door open quickly.

“What?” He said to the kid in front of him, who was significantly shorter than Shawn.

“Kevin knocked over the-“ he paused as he saw you watching from across the room. “Oh, sorry, Shawn, I didn’t realize you had a girl over.”

You choked on your sip of tea as Shawn shoved the kid out the door and slammed the door behind him.

You pulled yourself together as you could hear Shawn’s muffled voice through the paper-thin walls.

“Why the fuck would you say that with her right there?” He said.

“I didn’t know! I would’ve gotten the RA on duty if I knew you were on a date,” the kid yelled back.

You could hear Shawn huff and could imagine him tugging at his hair.

“It’s nothing, Cade. It’s literally nothing at all,” Shawn said quickly. Your stomach dropped.

“It didn’t look like nothing,” the kid - Cade - teased back.

“Just tell me what’s going on, so I can study, which is the only thing we were doing,” he trailed off as you could hear the two of them walking down the hall.

You tried not to let yourself get too disappointed as you half packed up some of your stuff, not wanting to overstay your welcome if he didn’t see anything here. You felt yourself begin to overthink, wondering what would’ve happened if he kissed you. If he just wanted something quick before break, a finale to your semester together in class.

You waited patiently, your chin resting on your knees as you tried to look at the study guide with no luck.

The door swung open once again as Shawn came back. He shut the door behind him, running his hands through his hair as he looked over at you, noticing nothing but your study guide sitting out. He felt his stomach drop but didn’t say anything.

“Ok, where were we?” He said as he sat down again, dangerously close as his thigh grazed across yours.

Your breath hitched as he looked over at the study guide in your lap, looking at your one newly highlighted point.

You looked up at him as he asked you a question on the point. It was obvious he was looking at your lips.

You tried to answer the question and steady your shaky voice, but he leaned closer. Before his lips had the chance to press against yours, you rested your hand against his chest.

“Shawn…” you trailed off. “I can’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” he quickly said. “I didn’t - I thought - I’m sorry, I thought there was…” he trailed off as he tried to motion between the two of you as he leaned back.

“I just,” you paused as you let out a breath. “I really don’t want to be a one-night thing before you go back home.”

“Why would you think that?” He asked, an upset look clearly on his face.

“It’s nothing. It’s literally nothing at all,” you quoted him as you played with the edge of the study guide.

He looked at you confused as you looked down at the page, trying to distract yourself.

“Why would you say that? I don’t think this is just nothing,” he said.

“Shawn, these walls are paper-thin,” you snapped as you looked up at him. “I heard you telling the kid that this was nothing, and I don’t want nothing. So I’m stopping it here.”

He rubbed his forehead softly as you tucked your study guide into your binder, opening your backpack to put it away.

“I’m not going to tell one of my residents that he just interrupted something,” Shawn said quickly. “They’re my residents. I’m not about to tell them about my love life. I didn’t know you’d hear that. I swear I don’t think this is just nothing. I just don’t want them to know that stuff about me. There’s no reason to. I’m so sorry if it came off as any other way.”

You watched him continue to get flustered as he stayed relatively close to you, his hand almost hitting your shoulder as he spoke.

“I’ve been crazy about you since the beginning of the semester. I don’t just want to kiss you and forget,” he explained, leaning close to you again.

“Really?” You asked softly.

He smiled back at you, his hand almost resting against your shoulder as he draped it against the back of the futon.

“Really,” he replied.

This time when he leaned in, you let him kiss you. His hand enveloped the side of your face as you rested your hands gently on his chest. He tugged on your hip, and you followed his lead as you climbed onto his lap, smiling into the kiss as his hands stayed planted on your hips, gripping into your sides.

You pulled back before pecking his lips once more, leaning your forehead against his so you could see his big smile.

You glanced outside to see the snow getting worse as you let out a sigh.

“I should get going,” you whispered.

“But it’s a blizzard out there,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “And you don’t have a coat.” Another kiss at the corner of your lips. “Just stay,” he whispered as his lips met yours again.

“I don’t want to get us in trouble,” you whisper back.

“I know the RA. Don’t worry about it. I can pull some strings if he finds out,” he said with a cocky smile as you rolled your eyes, leaning in again.

“Won’t the residents know?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Let ‘em talk,” he said as his hand rubbed up your side, sending shivers across your body. “I won’t see them for over a month anyway.”

“Well, as long as the RA doesn’t find out, I think maybe I can stay,” you whispered as Shawn flipped you over so your back pressed against the futon and he hovered above you.

“I’ll make sure he never finds out.”

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