#Apparently she decided the rain needed to be Someone Else's Problem | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meguwumibear · 5 months ago

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dominant!zayne x submissive!reader

tw for light BDSM, bondage/shibari, sex toys (vibrator), fingering, and some minor angst. mc calls zayne sir like twice. if i've missed something else that needs a tag, just ask! nondescript female reader with a bit of a backstory, just to make her feel more connected to the world.

Additional Disclaimer: Takes place after the events of the main story (which I am not fully caught up on). Reader is NOT the game MC in this fic. In my mind's eye MC decided to romance one of the other characters and Zayne does what he can to move on.

and yes, zayne's harness in the fic is 100% inspired by his harnes in the new trailer

In 2034 the world you as you know it ends. It happens suddenly one mundane spring afternoon. A great, gaping maw opens in the cloudless blue sky above Linkon City, releasing a tidal wave of ferocious monsters unto the earth. Locals come to call the event the Chronorift Catastrophe. The world later discovers that the great, gaping hole in the sky was the appearance of the first ever Deepspace Tunnel which attracted alien beings now colloquially referred to as Wanderers.

Everyone in Linkon City remembers where they were that day. They remember what they were wearing and who they were with. A flashbulb memory, the psychologists call it. A memory that endures. A memory that persists.

Like most survivors, it isn’t just the red rain falling from the sky or the horrible sound of the earth splitting around you that you remember: it’s the actions you took to survive. The people you ran past. The neighbors you didn’t save. The hand you didn’t extend to the woman who tripped over her own two feet running from the creature. The debris you didn’t help remove from the body of the elderly man too weak to push the plank away without aid.

For three weeks you see a therapist. You’re an adult now, still plagued by nightmares of the event. You tell the woman you’re meeting with that you are suffering from memories. She tells you that your body needs to learn that the danger has passed. The problem with that logic? The danger hasn’t. Your body can’t stop secreting stress hormones when your daily lunch breaks are constantly interrupted by Metaflux monsters.

Your past becomes a prison. An inescapable cage. Your therapists asks how you would feel if someone flung open the doors for you. You tell her it would depend on who opened the door and what’s happening outside.

The session before you ghost your shrink, she asks you to practice breathing exercises. She prattles on and on about the importance of nervous system regulation in trauma recovery. Apparently exhaling is supposed to activate the “rest and digest” response—the antidote to the “fight and flight” response that your body is stuck in.

And that’s all well and good but even twenty years later the Wanders keep manifesting in Linkon City in numbers that the Hunters can’t keep up with. You’d move, maybe, if you had the means, though you did read somewhere once that a scared animal will continue to seek out their home, even if their home is no longer safe.

So you find an alternative way to cope with the stress of the new world.

There’s budding red light district about an hour outside the city. You go sometimes on weekends to decompress. Your favorite haunt is a small BDSM club run by a couple of old widows who lost their husbands to the war. They verify ages at the door and ensure all the drinks at the place stay virgin.

You’re not heavy into the scene or anything—you actually have quite a few hard limits—it’s just…nothing else you’ve tried has helped you to shut off your brain. To shift your focus from the past to the present. To shut out all thoughts of Hunters and Protocores and Wanders.

The doms you’ve had up until this point were perfectly adequate; they listened diligently to what you were open to and respected all of your boundaries. You aren’t sure why you’ve never asked for a more consistent routine with any of them. Something, somehow, was always missing from the encounters.

There are a lot of new faces at the club tonight. Or, rather, there are a lot of faces new to you. The club has many regulars, but you don’t make the hike often enough to have them all committed to memory. Still, you’re certain you’ve never seen the tall, stoic man in a leather harness swarmed by a gaggle of women before. Despite the fact that he clearly has his pick of the litter, your gaze keeps wandering to his solid form. The way his abs flex when he breathes. The way his lips quirk when he talks.

He's halfway across the room but must somehow still feel the heat of your wandering gaze because after a few stolen looks he locks eyes with you. Your whole body flushes as he acknowledges you with a raise of his drink. The tips of your ears burn as he takes a healthy swig of the beverage without breaking the eye contact. It’s you who looks away first.

When you chance a glance back over, he’s excusing himself from the women who flocked to him like a tourist attraction to pick his way towards you. Your heart flutters anxiously as he closes in, and you have to remind yourself not to take a step back once he’s close enough to touch.

“First time?” he asks, voice smooth like ice.

“Ouch,” you reply, gripping your own water glass to ground yourself. “It’s not. Do I really look that unaware.”

His expression doesn’t change but his eyes move to assess you, “What are you drinking?”

Though his tone is relaxed you can’t help but feel as if the question has a correct answer.

“Just water.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Something with electrolytes would be more efficient. If you’re looking for a session tonight, that is.”

“I don’t like the taste,” you tell him, trying to keep the glass in your hand from shaking as desire swells within you.

He frowns, “Without electrolytes, your body will dehydrate, no matter how much water you consume.”

“You a doctor?” you ask.

He hums in what sounds like confirmation before wrapping his hand around yours. “I take the health of the people I play with seriously. This is about much more than sex to me. I like when my partners eat three square meals a day and have an effective exercise regimen implemented.”

You don’t resist when he slips your water from your grasp. You also don’t hesitate to open your mouth when he raises his own perspiring glass to your lips. His fingers don’t even graze you as you swallow down the fruity liquid, yet you can feel your insides come alight as you obey. As your pussy begins to leak it becomes increasing clear to you that you would do just about anything to have this man dominate you tonight.

“Good,” he says once you’ve downed the drink. “Now, do you happen to have a list of what you enjoy and your hard limits on you?”

With shaky hands, you reach wordlessly into your bag to retrieve what the man has asked for. He spends a few moments skimming the contents before simply stating, “I believe we are compatible.”

You follow him to a private room near the back of the club and watch as he begins to gather some equipment for the session. Without turning to look at you he says, “I noticed that you have some experience with light bondage. I prefer to use traditional single ply shibari rope or silk as restraints. These two methods prevent chafing and other potential complications like skin lesions or rashes. Do you have a preference for today’s session?”

“No preference, uh…” you trail off, wondering what the man would like you to refer to him as.

Sensing what’s on your mind, he offers, “I have no preferred titles, but you may assign me one if you like.”

“No preference, Sir,” you say, watching the man for his reaction. He seems unfazed by the moniker and continues to ready himself.

“Do you have any allergies or medical conditions I should be aware of?” he asks.

A lie forms on the tip of your tongue but the truth slips out anyway, “My heart’s a bit weak. Nothing serious. It didn’t develop properly when I was younger. I haven’t had any issues with it before.”

The revelation seems to give the man pause. He turns to you and motions for you to hold out your wrist for him, so you do. His warm fingers slip under your sleeve and find purchase on your pulse point. After a few excoriatingly silent minutes, you attempt to put his mind at ease.

“I’m, uh, a bit more excited than usual at the moment. My resting heart rate is probably higher than normal.”

The pads of his fingers don’t leave your wrist when he asks, “What’s your typical resting heart rate?”

You want to ask what that fucking matters, but sensing that won’t get you any closer to what you want you decide to humor the man. It’s been a while since you’ve been to a doctor. Back when they used to have you track it, the rate could vary depending on what task you were completing. It was higher, usually, when doing something strenuous. When you rested it would drop again.

“Usually around 90 beats per minute.”

His eyes flick to your face as he drops your wrist. “You should see a specialist.”

You roll your eyes impatiently, “Are we fucking or not?”

In response to your outburst, his hands find the hem of your shirt. “Who said I had any intentions of fucking you?” he asks, voice frustratingly emotionless. Your arms raise instinctually as he toys with the fabric, and the takes the opportunity to relieve you of the garment. “As I said before, this is about much more than sex to me.”

He circles behind you and draws you in close to him. It occurs to you suddenly just how much larger than you the man is. He rests his chin on your head as his fingers slowly trace down your sides, leaving a field of goosebumps in their wake. His hands make their way to the button on your pants.

“You aren’t just here for sex. Are you?” he asks, voice low. You feel the words vibrate his chest as he speaks them.

“No,” you whisper, eyes suddenly blurring.

“Good,” he says, undoing your buttons. “Let’s use the traffic light system today. It’s a simply way for me to check in on you and see how you’re doing.”

He lets the words sit in the air for a bit, fingers fiddling with your zipper. The only sound in the room is your own uneven breathing that you fight for control over.

The man pinches the tab of your zipper and shifts so his cheek is pressed against your forehead. “Color,” he asks, breath hot on the shell of your ear.

“Green,” you practically moan.

He slides off your pants with ease once he’s taken care of the zipper. He even helps you to keep your balance as you step out of them, one foot at a time.

“Color?” he asks again, as his fingers settle on the clasp of your bra.

“Green,” you reply, voice steadier now.

He undoes the hook with one hand.

You expect him to remove your panties next, but his fingers instead find the meat of your breasts. One of his arms wraps around you, securing you tightly against him, as you nearly keel over in a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

“Sensitive here,” he observes, cupping one of your breasts in his free hand. He uses a foot to nudge your legs further apart and slip a leg between them. The man isn't lying about getting off on this; his cock is hard as a rock against your ass.

“Fuck,” you whine as his bends you over ever so slightly. Just enough to rub your clothed pussy against his pant leg.

“Wet already,” he informs you, as if you don’t already know. As if you can’t feel the way the cotton material sticks to your lips. “All I did was undress you. That eager to begin?”

“Please,” you groan, desperate for him to take you apart with his slender fingers. “Please, Sir, I want you so fucking bad.”

“On the bed,” he instructs, releasing you, careful not to harm you as his leather harness peels away from your skin.

The rope he ends up choosing for the session is the jute rope. He takes his time winding the instrument around your wrists and pulling them above your head. His movements are practiced and skilled. His hands steady like a surgeon’s. You don’t even realize the effect watching him restrain you is having on you until a firm hand finds its way to your pelvis to stop your squirming.

Once you’ve settled, he retrieves two strands of additional rope.

“Are you familiar with the Spiral Futomomo tie?” he asks. “I understand that you’re still a beginner and tie will force you into a fixed position for an undetermined length of time. I trust you will use your safe word if needed?”

“You can trust me,” you assure him. “I know my limits.”

He must believe your words are sincere because he sets to work binding your ankle to your thigh, checking in periodically to ensure the wrappings aren’t too tight. The man is clearly in no rush and seems to delight in taking breaks between knots to steady your shaking form. You also notice the way his eyes shift to the growing wet spot beneath you as he progresses.

“What do you like about bondage?” he asks as he begins to work on your other leg.

“I don’t know,” you say, attempting to shrug before remembering your pose prevents you from such movement. “I’m never in control of my life anyway. May as well surrender myself to someone I know will take care of me.”

He doesn’t look at you, but you can see the way his eyes lighten. Your response must please him somehow. You decide to push the issue, “You like being in control?”

“I like caretaking,” is his response. “I like giving people what they need.”

“What if I need your fingers inside me?” you dare, feeling bold.

A small smile, but a smile all the same. “Then, you’ll have to patiently wait until I’m finished with the task at hand.”

He double checks all of his bindings once he’s finished securing you, mumbling under his breath about optimal blood flow. It’s cute, the way he seems so set on ensuring this is the best possible experience for you. You can’t remember the last dom you had who was this doting.

When he finally situates himself between your legs, it’s with gloved hands and a vibrator. You jump as the cool leather of the hand covering finds your inner thigh.

“Keep these spread for me,” he says, referring to your legs. Then he’s rubbing the vibrator, still off, up and down your panties with just enough strength for you to truly register the tool.

“You’re soaked,” he observes in that neutral tone of his, though his eyes glisten with awe. You wonder if he even realizes the vibrator isn’t on. His eyes find yours and for the first time all evening he smiles warmly at you. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take excellent care of you.”

Then he turns the vibrator on its lowest setting and your pussy truly begins to drool. He circles the vibrating toy around your clit strategically, watching your response to his ministrations intently. Fire pools in your belly as he slides the vibrator down your cunt and presses the tip of it gently against your opening. The panties you’re still wearing dull some of the vibration, but you can still feel the ungodly amount of slick that slips out of you at the slight penetration.

You do your best to stay still for him as he ups the setting, but your body starts to twitch in pleasure, back beginning to arch, toes threatening to curl. Your breath quickens as well as all the blood in your body seems to pump directly to your swelling clit. The same clit the man is now more firmly rubbing the vibrator against.

“Fuck,” you cry, starting to lose your composure. Your hips buck away from the relentless thrumming of the vibrator. Or maybe towards it. You’re not actually sure. It’s both too much and not enough at the same time. You need more. You need less. You need…

His unoccupied hand presses your hips back against the bed. “Easy,” he coaxes. “Don’t pull against the ropes.”

When you’re unable to obey, too overwhelmed with desire, he switches the vibrator off. The lack of sensation is so abrupt the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill, slipping down your heated cheeks. An animalistic whine you didn’t even know you were capable of escapes you.

“We’re not done,” he assures you, swiping at your tears with his thumbs. You wish suddenly he wasn’t wearing the leather gloves. You yearn to feel him skin to skin. The fabric is warm at least from the heat of his fingers. “You’re just getting a little fussy. I want to make sure everything is alright before we continue.”

He settles back between your spread legs and hooks his pointer finger in the bottom of your panties, pulling it aside to expose your dripping core and swollen lips. “Impressive,” he says, “how simple it was to elicit this response from you.”

He collects some of your spend on his index finger before starting to slide it inside you. It’s met with no resistance. He sinks easily in, straight to the knuckle. When he slips out it’s only to coat a second finger in your slick so he can sink that one in alongside the other. The two digits begin working you in tandem with each other, pumping deliciously against your walls. It doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for.

“Here,” he states, pressing and holding the tips of his fingers against the sensitive area. You involuntarily clench around them, body begging him to move them once more, but the man—to the devastation of your body—is nothing but the living embodiment of self-control.

You audibly cry out when he pulls his fingers from you. He locks eyes with you as he coyly promises, “Soon. I’d never leave a woman unsatisfied, and any man who would isn’t fit to be a dom.”

He picks the vibrator again and this time, when he touches it to your clit, it’s under your ruined panties. The thrumming sends a bolt of electricity skittering up your arched spine. Fuck, you’re so unbelievably wet. You feel your pussy fluttering around nothing and hiccup out a sob. You’re so empty. You’re so, so empty.

“Need,” you hiccup.

“What?” he asks patiently. “Tell me what you need.”

“Your fingers. I need your fingers. Please.”

He slips the same two from before back inside you.

“So well mannered," he praises. Then he asks, "Here?” as he presses the appendages against that spot once again.

“Yeah,” you agree, though you’re so far gone you would agree to anything he asked of you in this moment. “Yeah. Yeah. There. Right there. Fuck!”

He uses his fingers and the vibrator to bring you right to the brink of an orgasm. It’s so good. He’s so good. He’s touching you everywhere you need to be touched. Pushing all the buttons that need to be pushed. Your time in these rooms has never felt anything like this before, and you doubt it will ever feel anything like this ever again.

“Can I-”

“I don’t remember telling you that you needed my permission.”

Your orgasm ripples through you, strong and steady like a cresting wave. Once he’s certain he’s wrung the last of it out of you, the man withdraws his fingers and switches off the vibrator.

“I’m going to remove my gloves and start undoing your bindings,” he says.

“Yeah, okay,” you reply.

It takes a few minutes for him to completely untie you. Once he has, he asks permission to massage your legs and arms to reencouraged blood flow which you readily agree to. He produces a bottle of lotion that smells like eucalyptus from his bag and starts working the muscles of your arm.

“I wish they had showers here,” he offhandedly comments. “I don’t like sending people home without a proper washing.”

“A bath does sound nice,” you agree, sagging into his embrace.

“Promise me you’ll take one when you get home. I don’t want you getting into your bed dirty.”

“I would never make a promise I couldn’t keep, Sir.”

A comfortable silence falls over the room as he continues to provide you with aftercare.

“Zayne,” he eventually says, eyes fixed on the foot he’s been massaging for the past few minutes.

“What?”

“My name. You could use it if you’d like. Sir is fine too, if you’d truly prefer it, but I find names are much more intimate.”

“Oh,” is all you muster. Then you tell him yours.

“Could we move to the sofa while we continue to wind down?” he asks after testing the sound of your name in his mouth. “I like the casual skin to skin contact after a session. I’ll remove my harness but leave my slacks.”

“Fine with me.”

It takes Zayne a moment to remove his harness. Perhaps it’s his first time wearing this particular set of gear. You watch him wrestle with the final clasp through drooping eyelids. His expression softens when he catches you lazily staring at him.

“Admiring the view?” he teases.

“Never had a better one,” you reply easily.

He positions himself behind you when he joins you on the sofa. The two of you lay there comfortable for some time, breath seeming to synchronize in the quiet of the room. The world outside this secluded space slowly begins to creep back into your mind. Back to Metafluxes and Protocores. Back to Wanders and Hunters.

And then you start to cry.

If you weren’t so close to Zayne, you could probably hide it from him, but he notices the change in your mood instantly. He tugs gently at your arm, a wordless plea for you to turn to face him. You allow him to reposition you, curling yourself into his large body, tucking your face into his neck.

He pets at your hair soothingly while you let the worst of it out. When an appropriate amount of time has passed, he asks, “What brought that on?”

“It’s, uh, well it’ll probably ruin the moment if I told you.”

“I’d still like to know if it’s all the same to you. Debriefing is part of the scene after all.”

At first, you’re not sure you want to tell him what triggered the outburst, but considering the dynamic, you figure you owe it to him.

“I was thinking about my ex,” you admit.

Zayne stiffens, his caressing hand on your head stills. “They hurt you?”

“They loved me.”

Zayne tangibly relaxes at your response, and he resumes petting your hair.

“What happened to them?” he asks, tone carefully neutral.

“They left me.”

The silence that follows your confession is welcome. You think you even dose off. When your eyes open again, Zayne is full dressed, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he sanitizes the sex toy you soiled.

Sensing you stir he says, “You’re awake.”

“I am.”

Zayne dries the toy and sets it aside, turning to face you.

“I like to follow up with the people I dom for. You don’t have to give me your number if you’re not comfortable. An email will suffice.”

“You can have my number,” you say, gesturing for him to hand you his phone. “I’d actually appreciate a check in tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

He walks you to the train station once he’s certain the number you’ve given him isn’t a fake.

“Remember to get a full eight hours of sleep tonight,” he tells you. “And please eat a protein-based meal for breakfast. Something with eggs and meat, maybe. A shake if absolutely necessary.”

“Yes, Doctor Zayne,” you joke, offering him a crisp salute as you step onto the train platform. Maybe you're imagining things, but you swear he flinches at your response.

A firm hand on your wrist stops you from fully entering the car. You turn to face him one final time.

“About that,” he says, expression unreadable. “I was serious about you seeing a specialist for your heart.”

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads x reader #lads x you #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne lads x reader #zayne lads x you #zayne smut #zayne lads smut #lads smut #love and deepspace smut

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g1rlken · 1 year ago

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┏ 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 ┐

part3.

Alex turner x fem!actress reader

an: this part gives slightly “the Peter” by Taylor Swift vibes

word count: 3.6k+

Warnings: mention of depression

It was difficult to keep on going on your whim, time and time again looking for reasons to belittle or make it difficult for y/n to work on this project. She absolutely regretted come to this godawful grassland for the world’s pettiest man’s song. Not that he hadn’t moved on, y/n would see him: hand around shoulder, slipping down the waist as he’d laugh with one of those model stand ins. Every meal. The common dining area of the hotel they stayed at, Alex was the charming machine to all these lady guests of his. She couldn’t keep on distracting herself talking to the rest of crew, small talk was fine and longer conversations were embarrassing. She felt ambushed talking about her acting hiatus because the general narrative was that she got way too into her own head, she probably did but what business was that to the intern Sam who was a disguised coffee guy. She kept on telling herself and everyone else that the ‘whole thing’ wasn’t a ‘big deal’ but god forbid someone mentions an award function, her tone would immediately get guarded as if she was being tested. As if she was on that stage again being a laughingstock. Too much. She didn’t talk at all, hence decided to order room service for almost all her meals.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Y/n exclaimed slumping her shoulders down. There was a rain forecast on their original location so they changed production to a planned cliff, second day of the same shoot and the municipality shut down entry to the place because of supposed lightning forecast. It was taking forever to finish this godforsaken music video.

“They said they’re closing it for a week.” Richard informed her with a sigh, bummed out himself. Too much time on production as it is, getting to a peculiar location as such. From the centre to outskirts through the hilly roads it was already such a hustle only to find the place shut down. “The studio said we might as well extend a while for the location since we came all this way.”

The whole crew was growing increasingly restless on this project, no more than y/n and no less than Alex who was apparently enjoying the sights. A smirk on his face, clicking a picture of the no entry sign for the joke of it, snickering as he did so. It just fuelled her annoyance. “Cant we just shoot here? We drove four hours to come here!” Y/n proposed pointing to the open grass landscape, the whole place was just gigantic dunes of grass and grey skies. The first two days of shoot, it was beautiful. With more and more delays it was the most daft place ever.

“We have done the landscape part we need a cliff shot now…” Richard trailed off with a sigh, “Look, guys, let’s stay positive yeah? We can maybe find a new location”

“We can’t, they close the roads by sundown remember? It’s already 2, I don’t think we can make it.” Alex added into the conversation, his tone was laced with amusement so bad it made y/n infuriated but she didn’t say a word given he was a master of creating a scene. Absolute zero fellowship in him, he was enjoying everyone else’s suffering coming all this way just to spite her.

“Don’t we have a pass for it? With the shooting permit?” Y/n inquired about it, such remote locations generally allow access to a shooting team on permit.

“Guess who forgot it at the hotel?” Giving a disappointed look to Sam, the coffee guy/intern.

Deadpanning her face y/n rubbed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Disappointment clouded her problem solving abilities “Don’t we have any cliff other equivalent location in this stupid place?” She said with a scoff. Every place looked identical anyways.

“What a great idea!” Alex exclaimed ironically joining his hands together, his classic taunting was about to follow “How about we find her a park bench, will that be cliff equivalent for you?”

It had already been a lot of days of this mockery and a miserable time here. At hotel, the locations, failed shoots, his constant jabs were resulting in a lot of piled agitation. “Shut the fuck up.” She said blatantly.

Richard widened his eyes as did the crew, they were busy in finding network to make the maps work and Google nearest new locations but this was rather difficult to not be moved by, Alex too, “excuse me?” he was taken aback to say at least. Raising a brow he leant forward as to express his offended demeanour.

“The whole crew is really tired, we all woke at 4 am. Packing, equipment, dress, make up-to drive all the way here only to not shoot. If you can’t contribute stop irritating people who are actually working.” She told him off crossing her arms, shifting her weight on one leg.

“Is that so? What are you doing except for whining?” Alex said with a bitter laugh.

“This is stupid” she shook her head, instantly deciding to not engage anymore given she was here for work not engage in petty conversation with him besides in front of the whole crew it was anyways unprofessional. “You’re unreasonable” she waved her hand in mid air, crossing her arms as she was turning away.

“You haven’t changed a bit. Go on go leave, you’ve never had it in yourself to stay when things get difficult.” Alex scoffed, absolutely unfiltered in front of the whole crew perhaps purposely harsh.

“Alex, I’m being professional here you don’t have to go that far.” She replied with a frown on her face, surface level comprehension of his words which she knew would hurt so much, they already were but she wanted to be removed from this conversation before he made matters worse.

“Oh you’re being professional now?” To him, anything to do with her wasn’t professional. For exaggeration, if she even breathed in his direction he was agitated. Just a huge grudge to not see beyond professionalism. “Such a professional in everything you messed up your most serious two year long relationship.”

“I know it wasn’t mutual and I regret you were hurt but this isn’t the place to have that conversation now-“ she tried to reason with him in a subtle way, instead of biting back like him she could’ve approached with bitterness of how it’s been half a year since they parted, how he was seemingly moving on yet constantly berating her for leaving.

“You don’t get to decide where and when we have this conversation? You’ve already decided enough for me.” He said mockingly, his gaze fixated on her as he stared her down. He wasn’t aware for the root of his hurt and anger, originally he knew it was because she left him yes. But other than that, the fact that she felt like just waltzing back into his life through small talk or the fact that she didn’t waltz back into his life. It was the later. She decided to break up without of a second thought because she deemed it right for him, thinking she was a burden. She decided to leave for him and all he wanted was her. Back then and even now he didn’t know what he was trying to prove to her but it was surely drifting her father from him and he didn’t know how to stop that so he just let his anger out, “Tell me, is it better now? You learned to cook did you? You take your own meds on time…if you actually do? You attend all possible award shows you’re nominated in?” He scoffed, reminding her all such things he was helping her through and she refused him. He couldn’t stomach that she wanted to heal without him and it was a rather low blow when he mentioned the award show thing, she didn’t attend award shows at all even now. He kept tabs even after the break up because It brought him a sort of reassurance that she wasn’t completely alright, not without him. He loved her so infatuatedly he didn’t know how to act.

Y/n was sick to her stomach as he went on and on, in front of everyone just spewing out her personal miseries. “You don’t get to play the martyr just because I didn’t want your help.” To think that man that once hand fed her all which he cooked, with so much love, the man who set alarms to remind her for her medicines and the award show thing. He knew it was and still is a sensitive subject for her, he put her in the exact same situation like back up at that stage again. Right now amongst the camera crew, it was just a handful of people and y/n felt increasingly uncomfortable yet he didn’t stop talking.

“I’m not playing the martyr but I didn’t asked to get left either.” He said emphasising on the word ‘didn’t’ right back at her. He wouldn’t say it but this whole lashing out was not because she didn’t want his help but because she didn’t want him and that still word.

“It’s been…” she paused, “six months.” It was really hard to see him say all that so easily and she could barely formulate words trying to fight back tears simultaneously. Just how could he show indifference so such extent.

“I’m aware.” He scoffed changing his stance looking away for one second, contemplating if he should go on because he did take a not of her quivering voice she always did that when she was about to cry, he could recall from their time together and that reminder just fuelled him even more. He knew her like the back of his hand back then, even now, yet she walked way. “You were scared I’d leave you if I got to know you were depressed but when I chose to stay you were even more scared and left me. It is so difficult to love let alone work with you!”

“Work, yes of course” she nodded slowly registering the hurt of his words bit by bit because he was going further from far. “I’m going to go revise…” she told Richard, rest of the crew as well. All who’d been witnessing this conflict awkwardly and painfully silently. Y/n couldn’t look at anyone’s faces as she walked back to the trailer, it was a bus in itself because the whole crew travelled together but if the universe had any ounce of mercy left for her nobody would join her this very moment. Her ears were numb to the silent background, she thought Alex would have the last word surely but he didn’t. She walked the longest walk back to the trailer, closing the door behind her. There was a heavy feeling in her chest, the mechanical setting of sadness. Her heart racing, mind replaying the whole ordeal. Every word, everyone’s surprised faces. She wanted to break down, tears already brimmed her eyes but then again if they were to resume shooting on a new location the very same day her eyes would be so puffy and displaying that to the makeup crew. After everything they witnessed, absolutely not. She paced back and forth air drying her tears, trying to divert her mind. She did. She thought about the dreadful night of their breakup again, she must’ve put Alex in this very situation back then. His pleading, begging voice. The man who was on his knees for her who wanted her to do anything but leave, just how right now she wanted him to do anything but keep talking. But well, both things happened and the later was the consequence of the first one. She had nobody but herself to blame and the inherent guilt crept right back in.

Thankfully, there was no resumed shooting later that day given the rain check was really bad to commute to another location as well so the crew all returned back to the hotel. Four hours, just staring out the window. Fixated completely y/n didn’t even look at anyone the entire ride and nobody approached her even. Straight into her room at the hotel, for dinner she ordered just room service. After an awaited long breakdown in her room she couldn’t go down and have dinner with the rest of them, the breakdown session was as it is evident on her face plus everything was so awkward after the whole ordeal. Everyone looked at her with agitating sympathy, as if her dog had passed.

She opened the door to “Room service!” knock, taking the food in, not exactly meeting the eyes somewhat hiding her face as if she was some alleyway dealer. “Thanks.”

“Miss y/l/n, I’m really sorry for what you’re going through.” The room service guy told her out of courtesy and also genuine compassion.

“What?” She was immediately confused, what exactly was he referring to?

“The whole…your ex-I was there.” He explained, not sure how exactly to term Alex lashing out on her in front of everyone. But he wanted her to know his sympathies lay with her “I was assigned by the hotel to the filming crew as a local here” he said referring to why exactly he was there in the first place.

“Oh.” Y/n nodded, wonderful. This whole interaction had the same feeling of a funeral when someone explains how they’re related to the person in subject however in this case y/n was full well alive. “Yeah…thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“For the record, I’ve seen almost all of your movies and I have loved you in every single one of them and your order is the most easiest order to make. So you’re not difficult to love or work with I’ll have you know.” He tried to be hospitable and also as a fan, he felt really bad for the actress in question. His heart was there, trying to offer kind words but it just made y/n feel ambushed.

“That’s-that’s really sweet.” She nodded with a small smile regardless. What a time! Even absolute strangers feel sympathetic to her and Alex who-no. “It means a lot…”

“Always. If you need anything, the restaurant is open till 11.” He said politely and pushed out the empty cart out of her room and bid her goodnight.

Just as she was about to close the door as the cart moved out, a foot stepped in the middle refraining her from closing it completely so she opened it instead to see who it was. “Hi.” Alex said as he tilted his head forward, he didn’t think she’d actually open the door to him.

Y/n just took a deep breath, visibly raising her guard she did not have anything to say him at this point and she couldn’t believe he had something more to say. She just stood there, trying to appear stiff but with just the first glance he could tell she had been crying. Crying really bad. He wanted to apologise, after a lot of thinking over the words shared he felt like he crossed a line. Especially with what he said, he said in front of everyone. He messed up. Apologies came cheap, he didn’t know what to say. “The shots from yesterday came in, it’s good. It’s great. Beautiful-you were beautiful.”

Tears were already formulating her eyes, just at the sight of him. The casualty of his tone after what he did, she wanted the slam the door in his face so that’s what she attempted too. Slowly closing the door but he stopped her again, “please, can we talk”

“Just go…” she sighed averting her gaze from him so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her cry. He leant a bit lower to see her face, conforming the tears she was trying to hide. He wanted to reach out and hold her but he was just out here in the lobby. He experimented professing further and she did let him inside, dejectedly moving aside y/n just didn’t want to see his face anymore.

Getting inside Alex softly closed the door behind him, anxiously she was pacing back and forth. He once made fun of her, he called this method of hers “air-drying tears, love?” he asked. She did not want him here in the first place so he didn’t breach that boundary, stopping by the small of hallway to her hotel room a few steps by the door.

“Why are you even here?” She asked firmly as she had been successful to air dry her tears back. It wasn’t pride, maybe on the prideful spectrum but she would not cry in front of him even though it hurt like hell.

“I know I can’t make things right after what I said today, I shouldn’t have said that. Especially not in front of everyone like that-you, you were at work.” He said in a calm tone leaning against the wall, “I’m sorry…I’m really sorry.”

“Okay.” She nodded without even looking at him, barely acknowledging his words because she was fixated on not breaking down at this very second.

“That’s it?” He asked, not frustrated just underwhelmed that his genuine apology accounted for so much less? “Okay?” He couldn’t tell if she was okay with it in a true sense or if she was being passive aggressively ignorant about it.

“What do you want me to say?” Y/n asked scrunching her brows as she crossed her arms.

“We are not at the best terms, I know. We both messed up, you were trying to be civil. Today I crossed a big line, I know. I really want to just make things right-“

“Then why don’t you just leave?!” She stopped his self serving closure set apology mid way, “You are here in the first place just to spite me aren’t you? To give me a hard time and so far Alex, you have been very successful-“ she was so angry, she couldn’t hold her her tears anymore as they streamed down her face breaking her voice.

“Hey, hey” he cooed softly as he approached her in small steps. Ever since he saw her face, evidence of a long breakdown on it he had wanted to just pull her into his embrace. Now she was crying again and he couldn’t fight the urge as he gently placed his hands on her shoulder to soothe her.

The familiarity of his touch, his consolation punched y/n back to the good years just him and her and they rarely had these moments where she would be falling apart but she knew that if she did, he’d be there. Just like how he was here. But this time it wasn’t healthy, this wasn’t right even if it felt so. She pulled herself away from him shaking her head as she sat on the bed of her hotel room crying into her hands.

Hesitantly he followed her, this was all so instinctive. “Y/n…” he trailed off as he knelt in front of her as she sat on the edge of the bed. She had covered her face with her hands so he tried to gently remove them as to see her face. “It’s alright, you’re alright.” He soothed as he finally got to see her weeping face. He kept on wiping her tears as new flew down her face. “You are so much stronger than this, you’ve been okay before. You’ll be okay again, just breathe.” This is what he was perfect at, piecing her back together. She held the colour only his paint brush knew.

This scenario was almost like an extremely long déjà vu, this exact scenario y/n had been here so many times. Him comforting her, so willingly and so warm. As if it was worth being this hurt, she couldn’t get words out through her crying, that perfectly but she didn’t have to for he already knew. To be loved is to be known and he knew her like she was the last thing he’d ever know, the last he’d learn. “Can I hold you?” He asked softly, eyes expectant for a yes.

Nodding she hesitantly met his eyes and she recognised Alex for Alex. After so long, she didn’t think about anything else but the familiarity of the lover she once held. The one who was holding her now. He stood up and sat beside holding her, enlacing his arms around her. A warm embrace shielding her from an awful time he inflicted on her.

She returned his embrace as well, his hand rubbing her back in a repetitive motion her weeping dying down but he didn’t let go. He didn’t want to.

Alex nestled her closer to him, words unsaid and a vague understanding. Neither of them broke the cocoon of warmth. It almost felt like a fever dream to y/n, she wasn’t aware of any reality she’d let herself be in this situation in. But here she was. Slowly drifting off to sleep in his arms. He could tell she was, he settled the two of them in a lay-down position on the bed. He didn’t think she could fall asleep and he also didn’t want to move. With her small grip at his shirt with the two of them cuddling he figured she wouldn’t want him to leave either.

He planned to leave silently once she was sound asleep, as time went on he didn’t realise when he drifted off to sleep too. Just holding her in his arms, cuddling the two of them slept on their grievances entangled with one another.

—

HIII!!! I’ve got like two more chapters left to this pls let me know what you think or I will d!3 and don’t forget to drink water xx

@indierockgirrl @turnersverse @ladydraculasthings @libertyybellls @kelizai @sagegreensimmr @supernaturalandpain

#alex turner x reader #alex turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x reader fluff #alex turner x you #alex turner imagine #arctic monkeys x reader #arctic monkeys fanfic

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brionysea · 30 days ago

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there was this one instance where i saw a ton of bylrs call mike selfish and that he should be selfless next season as "growth" and i just. the only way i can see mike being selfish is if it's because of the whole "i do things to be needed/loved." that can lead to inherent selfishness down the line. but that's not what they were talking about. it was because of how he treated will at rink o mania. i don't think people understand the word selfish because that word could NEVER fit someone like mike from what we've actually seen, and especially not what went down in rink o mania. he ALWAYS has his mind set on someone else, before himself.

did we not see him avoid eating his own breakfast because he was too worried about el? and got up to bring her food instead? mind you he was the only one even thinking of her and deciding to go check on her in that moment. did we not see him call himself a self-pitying idiot for feeling his emotions? did we not see him apologize for opening up about how he views himself because there are bigger concerns than him? did we not see mike devote his whole time in s2 to helping will despite his grief, letting it all build up silently just so he could help will? did we forget he jumped off a cliff just for his best friend's baby teeth?

i know people view the rain fight from specifically will's pov because that's what the show focuses on. but will was unfair here too. will called out both him and lucas not wanting to play dnd, and yet it was mike specifically who was destroying the party and ruining it. he got the blame only. i never see anyone pointing it out since it's very subtle. but yes, will only gives mike the blame despite this seemingly being about him and lucas. i also never understood why it's specifically mike's responsibility to know where dustin is. will's acting like he knows himself. that bit always confused me. and mike LITERALLY tries reaching dustin continuously, wondering why he isn't picking up. lucas tells him it doesn't matter.

fast forward to the cabin scene where everyone fucking misunderstood him when he was MAKING A REALLY GOOD POINT THAT ENDED UP RIGHT ANYWAY. lol. lmao.

anyway point is. mike never defends himself from this shit and just internalizes it. he never calls someone out and makes it about himself. even at the rink o mania fight, he made it clear two times they should focus on el instead at that moment because that's what's happening. that's most important right now. calling mike wheeler selfish is insane. he's stubborn, a brat, impulsive and says shit in the heat of the moment. he did all that shit, but he is NOT selfish. fanon mike is insanity

when they say mike is selfish they're just mad that mike is paying attention to el instead of will, because I guess el being left to mope in her room all alone would make mike SUCH a better person than being the first one to try to talk to her about being bullied in months 🙄

mike getting the blame for everything is a general trend for this show. you're right that will does it in the rain fight, I didn't notice that! dustin does it too, when mike and el BOTH ditch the party but somehow el is blameless in that. mike and el are both there when dustin radios them later, but dustin only talks to mike, limiting the conflict and dustin being mad to just the two of them. hopper says the problem in mike and el's relationship is mike (while joyce, my love, looks at him like he's a crazy person lmao). somehow el not knowing who wonder woman is is mike's fault too, because apparently max doesn't know that el was basically raised in Baby Jail and she doesn't know anything about anything in general society. el almost got strangled to death, and mike is the only one who did anything to save her life, then max is in the bathroom with el making jokes at mike's expense because it's easier than dealing with her own feelings on the billy situation. it's so weird and constant if it's not meant to plant the idea that something major in the show, somehow, no matter how illogical, IS actually mike's fault

like, the whole thing in season 1, where lucas is mad about the will situation and el misleading them but he's talking like it's mike's fault, and then troy blames mike for what el did to him and mike jumps off the cliff as a direct result - like - I don't LIKE THAT, it's WORRYING! why is everything mike's fault and why is he apparently willing to pay for it with his life?

#st #inbox #beingdiifferent

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wintersshowers · 2 years ago

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RONAN and ADAM and... ETHEL CAIN

(trust me its gonna be so good)

My thoughts on “crush” by Ethel Cain and The Raven Cycle (because my niche right now is rereading the raven cycle for the first time in 4 years and I just happened to see Ethel live and I cannot stop connecting them)

As a prelude to my lyric/quote breakdown… Ethel Cain is a trans woman who writes hauntingly beautiful music.. She is religious and from the south, which is a HUGE part of why it is so undeniably apparent to me that she can be connected to specifically RONAN (gay catholic from the south with his barn house). Her music is so amazing and she is an awesome story teller so I hope you give her a listen.

Her most popular song CRUSH is so goddam Ronan and Adam I had to write this because I needed to put it somewhere.

“His window's already passed, so he's shooting at the glass

Keeping guns in his locker, and he denies it

Like it's actually important, but he lied 'cause I sure did watch him

Showing up wearing black, and he knows that”

His daddy's on death row, but he'll say it with his chest, though”

This is just very Ronan angst i don't feel like i need to explain..

“His friends move dope, he hasn't tried coke

But he's always had a problem saying no”

OKKK soooooo lets get into the the dream thieves helloooo

Yes Kavinsky and Ronan’s relationship is very hard to define but whatever it is he takes up a lot of his time in dream thieves.. And he loves coke (or whatever the hell he dreamt up)… and Ronan is VERY BAD at saying no when it comes to any sort of challenge from Kavinsky.

OK NOW LETS GET INTO THE GOOD STUFF

“Can you read my mind? I've been watching you.”

“As they moved through the old barn, Adam felt Ronan’s eyes glance off him and away, his disinterest practiced but incomplete. Adam wondered if anyone else noticed.”

“Adam finally sat down on one of the pews. Laying his cheek against the smooth back of it, he looked at Ronan. Strangely enough, Ronan belonged here, too, just as he had at the Barns. This noisy, lush religion had created him just as much as his father's world of dreams; it seemed impossible for all of Ronan to exist in one person. Adam was beginning to realize that he hadn't known Ronan at all. Or rather, he had known part of him and assumed it was all of him.

The scent of Cabeswater, all trees after rain, drifted past Adam, and he realized that while he'd been looking at Ronan, Ronan had been looking at him.”

“When he opened his eyes, he saw that Ronan was looking at him, as he had been looking at him for months. Adam looked back, as he had been looking back for months.”

“Couldn't fight to save your life, but you look so cool”

“I’ve watched the evening news, Adam,” Gansey snapped. “Why don’t you let Ronan teach you to fight? He’s offered twice now. He means it.” With great care, Adam folded the greasy rag and draped it back over a toolbox. There was a lot of stuff in the carport. New tool racks and

calendars of topless women and heavy-duty air compressors and other things Mr. Parrish had decided were more valuable than Adam’s school

uniform. “Because then he will kill me.”

“Good men die too, oh, I'd rather be with you, you, you”

“See, Adam Parrish is wantable, worthy of a crush, not just by anyone, someone like Ronan, who could want Gansey or anyone else and chose Adam for his hungry eyes.”

HELLOOOOOOOOo are u kidding….

1st Gansey is the definition of a “good man”

2nd Adam is OBSESSED WITH THIS the whole damn series and is constantly attempting to model himself/who he wishes he was after gansey

3rd to tie it all together… the whole series its like oh yea gansey is about to die (along with everyone else if we are being real)

“I owe you a black eye and two kisses

Tell me when you wanna come and get 'em”

PLEASEEEEEE like this is MY WAY of describing the ANGST and SLOWWWWWburn of their relationship. When I hear her sing this I cannot help but giggle and kick my feet because of how amazingly it fits.

“I only want him if he says it first to me”

"It was Adam’s ribs under Ronan’s hands and Adam’s mouth on his mouth, again and again and again. It was stubble on his lips and Ronan having to stop, to get his breath, to restart his heart. They were both hungry animals, but Adam had been starving for far longer.”

We all know the Ronan longing and it being a HUGE secret that he likes Adam... and Adam like knows and its like lol embarrassing (as if he isn't down bad as well)

ADAM is like oblivious to the legitimacy of his feelings until ronan gives him a little kissssss and then it's like he is all like “what is love”

“He looks like he works with his hands, and smells like Marlboro Reds”

HELLOOOOOo this is so adam are u kidding

“Ronan crossed his arms to wait, just looking. At Adam's fine cheekbones, his furrowed fair eyebrows, his beautiful hands, everything washed out by the light. He had memorized the shape of Adam’s hands in particular: the way his thumbs jutted awkwardly, boyishly; the roads of prominent veins; the large knuckles that protruded from his long fingers. In dreams Ronan put them to his mouth.”

“Adam twisted off the lid. Inside was a colorless lotion that smelled of mist and moss. Replacing the lid with a frown, he turned the container over, looking for more identifying features. On the bottom, Ronan's handwriting labeled it merely: manibus. For your hands.”

“Something's been feeling weird lately

There's just something about you, baby (there's just something about you, baby)

Maybe I'll just be crazy (I'll be crazy)

And piss him off 'til he hates me

Yeah right, he fucking loves me”

…… do i even need to say anything??

#the raven cycle #the raven king #the raven boys #richard gansey #gansey #ronan lynch #adam parrish #blue sargent #the dream thieves #the dreamer trilogy #adam and ronan #pynch #noah czerny #richard campbell gansey iii #Spotify

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agentstarkid · 10 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/agentstarkid/761883132078260224/question-are-we-going-to-read-daniels-reaction

Ok, having read this does that mean he hasn’t fully grasped her saying “I just wanted to be the one”? Cause I had a feeling he was a bit too nonchalant about that. Especially if they had spoken about marriage and it seemed like it was possible that’s where they were headed.

She technically was the one and then his mind let himself to question everything. When he does realize what she said he has to be wondering if she then felt not good enough to be the one for him and I bet it’ll kill him because of course she was and he’s the one responsible for making her feel unworthy

YESSSSSSS!!!! EXACTLY!!!!!

In my brain, he put a wall up when everything fell apart. He completely shut himself off to her and her feelings because that was the easiest way out.

He was in a bad place at the time, everything was falling apart in his life and she just kept pushing through every single thing that people threw at her. And she was still rising while he was drowning. And that, at the time, it was one more stone added to their grave (today, apparently, I'm all about stone metaphors lol).

There's a line in mac miller's 'my favorite part' that says: before things come together, they have to fall apart. And there's another in 'No Plan' by Hozier that says: The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun. And I feel like these describe their relationship so well in general lines. Everything happened so fast for them. They got together and then they were stuck together for four months in quarantine on a farm—she was sooooo far away from home, in a new country, with a new boyfriend of just 2-3 months and it felt like the world was ending. He got to know the real her and then, suddenly, the global superstar came out and it was a whole new persona, with everything that comes attached to it: fame, gossips, etc etc,,, because he got sooo used to that other person he spent so much time with.

So it's a lot to take in. And he just wasn't ready. He's never dated anyone famous before—or more famous than him.

I'm rambling a lot, sorry! but to wrap everything up, I feel like they both needed time apart, was it the right way to step back and breathe? no, no, it wasn't. But they are both to blame. This is my controversial take on this: Yes, Daniel fucked up and broke her heart. But she saw it coming for months, and decided to ignore it and put it aside because she loved him too much and didn't want to face their problems. That's where I'd put the blame on her.

BUUUUUTTTTTT they are mean to be. They are twin flames. They are endgame.

Once he actually lets himself open that vault of emotions, he's gonna feel like shit because it's gonna be a rude awakening. Not to give too much away, but he's gonna see, first hand, how happy she is in the arms of someone else. And part of him is happy that she has someone devoting their time to put her pieces back together and making her happy, because she deserves it. But the other part, feels anger and shame, that it's not him healing her broken heart as he should've. It feels like salt is being poured into an open wound.

To him, she was the one from their very first date. He knew he was putting a ring on her finger someday. Sadly, amidst the raging storm, he lost sight of the prize for a moment. But if there's one thing that he is good at is being patient and he's been perfectioning that virtue for years. He's gonna play the game, he's gonna play his cards right, and at the end, he's gonna win.

They—especially him—are getting their shit together so they can love each other better.

And oh, victory after a hard-fought battle always tastes so sweet.

Oops, I ended up rambling too much anyways but I hope this answers your question or I don't know if I went off on a tangent again 😅

#nonnie asks #[tjatq's asks]#ask may ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

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wordsafterhours · 3 years ago

Text

Songs About You: Chapter 5

Hello! Hope you all enjoy the update and I apologize for the drama... well not really, lol. I live for the angst both as a writer and reader. This will likely be the last update for a couple of weeks, I haven't started not the next chapter and have some things in my own life coming up.

Possible TW: Arguing, cussing

*I didn't edit this, it's hot off the press...

Word count: 3.9K

Masterlist

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The workweek had passed by in a blur. Chaol had left yesterday for a short trip to the coast because apparently, he was the only one trusted enough to sort out whatever problem had happened at the engineering yard. Aelin knew he was good at his job, but she wished someone else could deal with it, as their weekend plans were forced into a rain check.

A steady flow of bookgoers had been in and out of the shop, leaving little time for Aelin to mentally prepare for Rowan’s impending afternoon arrival. His books had been neatly wrapped in brown paper since their arrival yesterday and were currently burning a hole on the shelf underneath the register. A constant reminder on the forefront of her mind.

More and more light filtered through Present Tense’s windows, signaling the time was now sometime after noon. Anxiety began to creep in, making her antsy, and bobbing her knee in anticipation. Should she check the time? Would that make things worse or better? Lyria hadn’t come by yet either so maybe it wasn’t as late as she thought. The woman had said she’d be by on her lunch break to pick up the cookbook.

Deciding to chance it, her turquoise eyes flicked down, eyeing the corner of the computer. Her initial assessment of the time proved accurate—the clock displaying a bold 2:15 p.m... It was going to be a long afternoon. A few tasks for the week had been put off, due to their tedious nature, but now was as good of time as any to tackle one or two of them. She clicked into her inventory lists on the computer, evaluating what titles needed to be reordered and what genres could possibly be expanded.

Sometime later, Aelin heard a feminine voice clearing their throat. She looked up and saw Lyria shyly standing at the counter. “I thought you would have heard me come in, but I see you’re really into whatever you’re doing,” the woman supplied sweetly.

“Apparently, I’m exceptionally unobservant as of late. Good thing you weren’t an assassin, I would have been toast,” Aelin joked, dragging her hand across her throat to emphasize the dead part.

“Then who would order books for me?”

“You’re right. I can’t get taken out; the whole city would suffer from lack of literary works.”

Her theatrics made Lyria chuckle and for that, she was glad. Sometimes she could be a bit much for other people.

“I got held up at work or I would have been here when I’d originally said. No one seemed to want to handle their own fires today and naturally, they became my problem.” Now that Lyria disclosed the reason her tardiness, Aelin noted the woman did seem somewhat frazzled, with her long brown hair in a messy bun and a pen tucked in it.

“That’s exactly why I’m my own boss…,” she snickered pushing away from the counter. “If you’ll wait right here, I’ll grab your stuff from the back.”

Aelin’s office was a complete mess, the floor littered with dog toys and dried water spots. Fleetfoot was chaos embodied and this room had been the latest casualty. A hefty stack of new books sat on the corner of her wooden desk but as she roamed down the book spines, Lyria’s cookbook was not amongst them.

Shit, she internally cursed. It had come in yesterday, she recalled flipping through the many glossy pages, appreciating a few dishes that looked worth trying. Rowan’s books had also been in the same shipment and were far more interesting than the recipes—mainly because Aelin couldn’t cook to save her life. She could read though and halfway into the Campfire Tales book; it had been decided that it needed to be carried full time in the store front.

The telltale bell ring of the door reached her ears, signaling another customer had come in. Hopefully they could manage without her for a few more moments as she continued retracing yesterday’s steps. It wasn’t on the desk, shipping container, or under the register with Rowan’s books. The puppy wasn’t here yesterday, so she couldn’t blame her. Finally, she saw it, haphazardly shoved into her small bookcase by the office door. That was one place to put it she supposed, grabbing it with relief.

Lyria was still by the counter when she emerged from the back but looking far less relaxed than before. The woman kept throwing glances over her shoulder, a nervous expression in place. Was the new customer a vagrant? Had something happened while she was gone? Aelin craned her neck trying to see who was in the store.

Seeing no one, she proceeded with ringing up the book. “Alright, that’s going to be $32 even.”

“Can you put that in a bag, please?” Lyria asked swiping her card.

Aelin was slipping the item into a bag when movement in her peripheral caught her attention. Soon, a familiar figure came into focus, and she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from pulling up. As quickly as the smile had come, it disappeared. He didn’t deserve smiles and niceties.

Rowan hadn’t approached the counter, seeming as though he was waiting on Lyria to leave or maybe he was quietly praying to Hellas for guidance on how to ruin Aelin’s day—that seemed like the more plausible answer.

What she did notice though was how tense Lyria was now that he had joined them.

“Here, all done. You’ll have to let me know how it goes with the cooking,” Aelin requested, handing the packaged book into Lyria’s open hands.

“What a small world Orynth can be,” Rowan chimed.

Aelin was undeniably missing something.

“So it would seem, Rowan,” Lyria replied as she turned to face him.

Rowan had the biggest smile on his face and offered out a closed fist in Lyria’s direction. The woman bumped her own fist against his and gave a small chuckle.

It was clear the two knew one another and were likely friends. But if that were the case, why had Lyria been acting so strangely? Aelin continued to glance between the two looking for more answers.

“Well, I better be going, I still have one thing to finish up at the office before I can celebrate the weekend.”

“Still on for Saturday?” Rowan asked Lyria as she walked past.

“Of course,” she answered quickly, almost too quickly, her cheeks pinking up. Aelin’s eyes unconsciously narrowed Lyria gave a small parting wave to Rowan. Either the two were intimate or given the other woman’s reaction, heading in that general direction.

Aelin felt her stomach drop with that deduction and she tried to shove down the sudden wave of nausea that was creeping up. She shouldn’t care. She didn’t even know Rowan, much less like him. Yet, a small nagging voice in the back of her head whispered “liar”.

“Good afternoon, Aelin,” greeted Rowan.

“I have your stuff right here,” she declared, pulling out the wrapped stack from under the counter and holding it out to him.

“Usually when one person greets another, pleasantries are exchanged, and then the conversation transitions into a more serious note. So, let us try this again,” he chastised trying to sound serious, but Aelin could hear the humor beneath his words. “Good afternoon, Aelin.”

“Good afternoon, Rowan,” she replied with an eye roll.

“Eye rolls don’t make for polite conversation.”

“Who said this was a polite conversation,” she quipped, trying her best to sound indifferent.

“Gods, are you always this so damn difficult?” he implored, leaning against the desk and staring her down with pine green eyes.

Aelin gave a noncommittal shrug and waved the wrapped books in his direction, silently pleading him to take them. Polite Rowan was the last thing she had been expecting and he’d further caught her off guard with his teasing. She did not like it one bit.

“I’m not taking the books until you have a conversation with me. I know you can because you were talking to Lyria just fine.”

She sighed, loudly, and sat down on her stool, contemplating whether to be nice or a pain in the ass. The latter won out. “How do you know, Lyria?”

“Does it matter?”

“You’re the one who wanted to have a conversation. This is me using my words, Rowan.”

Rowan was visibly frustrated. He took a few deep breaths and pinched the bridge of his nose. Aelin surmised he was choosing his next set of words carefully.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Lyria and I met when she attended one of my hiking get togethers last year. She attends them still if she’s not busy with work.”

She wasn’t sure what she had expected his explanation to be, but it wasn’t that. Lyria didn’t strike her as the outdoorsy type… and Rowan didn’t strike her as a people person. But you know what they said about assuming.

Aelin again pulled the wrapped books from beneath the counter, holding them out to him with smile, trying to appear apologetic—which she was, but she’d be damned if she actually said sorry for being nosy. Or for being rude. His green eyes flitted between the books and her face a few times before he finally grabbed them from her, his finger accidentally brushing against her own.

An electric current zinged up her arm and she jerked it back in surprise. Had he felt that, too? The look on his face was unchanged but his eyes seemed a little darker, emerald instead of pine. Neither commented on what had just happened and an awkward silence ensued.

She was about to ask if he was ready to pay for the books, when the bell of the front door chimed, and a middle-aged couple walked in. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said quietly as she went to meet the customers.

“Hi, my name is Aelin. Did you need any help or are you just browsing?” Her tone was very polite; she hoped Rowan was taking note of it.

“So nice to meet you. My wife and I are visiting from Eyllwe. When we looked up things to see in the city, visit downtown was number one on the list. We were walking by just now when we saw your shop and thought we’d pick up a good book or two.”

“That’s wonderful. I hope you’ve enjoyed it thus far. Downtown still has many of the old buildings from before the great war, which I’m sure you’ve noticed. The opalescent shine gives them away.” Aelin smiled fondly, recalling history lessons with her dad freely given every time he brought her downtown. Both Evalin and Rhoe had had such pride for the city and Terrasen—a pride they’d passed to their daughter.

“Oh yes dear, it’s been such a treat,” agreed the woman.

“If you are interested, I’d love to show you the section especially catered to showcasing Terrasen, and if not, I can direct you in whatever area you’re interested in.” Books had been her life for as long as she remembered, and it was a gift to share that unbridled passion with others.

“Oh, we’d love to see your specialty section,” both exclaimed excitedly. Aelin didn’t worry about Rowan, he could wait, or come back later. These people were actually excited to hear what she wanted to share and say. She eagerly ushered them to the back of store and into a small room dedicated to her homeland.

Roughly an hour, six books and exchanging of numbers later, they were done and heading back towards the register. Aelin’s steps slightly faltered, surprise consuming her at the sight of Rowan’s hulking frame occupying her stool behind the counter. His attention solely focused on the leatherbound book laying atop the counter, giving no indication he was the slightest aware of their approach.

Aelin couldn’t stand it, elbowing him in passing and he jerked, almost falling off the stool. Much like a fox in the chicken coop, she couldn’t resist this moment of gloating. “Look whose unaware now.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes, and she could see him gearing up for a smart remark until he realized they weren’t alone. The look in his eyes was clear enough.

Brat.

Aelin could tell he found humor in the situation which filled her with a feeling she couldn’t place at the moment—there was always later.

“Is this your boyfriend, deary?” the wife asked.

Her heart felt like it was going to race out of her chest, a wave of heat creeped down her neck. She knew her face was beet red. Rowan merely snorted at the comment but otherwise remained his same confident self. It would appear the ball was solely in her court.

“He’s uh- “she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, trying to come up with a label for what Rowan was. Were they friends? Acquaintances? She wanted to say bothersome asshole but that wouldn’t make for palatable conversation, and he had been rather nice today. “- my friend. I just special ordered some books for him.”

Aelin subtly glanced sideways, trying to see what Rowan thought of them being “friends”. His eyebrows were drawn together, creating a small crease in his tan skin, and his mouth a thin line, but it wasn’t a hard expression… she’d mark it down as thoughtful.

“Oh, how exciting! I’d be poor if I had access to a bookstore owner at any given time.” The woman unaware of the tension she’d created with her intrusive question, kept rattling on to her husband about their books Aelin rang up their purchases. After they paid, they promised to keep in touch and let her know how they liked the books, before wandering out of the shop.

Aelin waited, expecting Rowan to move from behind the counter now they were alone. Again. Instead, he continued to sit there, unbothered, reading the page he’d been on earlier. She loudly cleared her throat, pointedly staring at the side of his face. His face stayed a mask of indifference, giving no indication he’d heard her at all.

She cleared her throat, louder.

Still nothing—he flipped the page.

And we are back to being worse than Hellas, himself. Mala grant me the patience to not commit murder, Aelin internally pleaded to herself while continuing to stare at him occupy her space. There was no way he couldn’t have heard her clearing her throat, meaning he was purposefully trying to get a rise out of her.

It was both infuriating and lovely that he wanted to rile her up. Perhaps they had found their way into a tentative friendship. It didn’t negative the fact she wanted to push his 6’ 4” frame onto the floor, though. Violence brought joy from time to time.

Her eyes traced down along his jaw, noting the light stubble gracing it, down his neck decorated with words in language foreign to her, and along his muscle arm, appreciating the way his long sleeve outlined it. He was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen and that was saying something considering all her friends were especially attractive. Chaol was handsome but it was different—he didn’t command the room or draw attention wherever they went.

Rowan deftly flipped another page, drawing her attention. He was now past the point of where she had stopped yesterday. Curiosity driving her forward, she moved behind him, peering over his left shoulder so she could read, too. She read along as he finished a story about some giant worm who ate people and was glad that these were just “stories” and not true encounters.

Since he didn’t seem to mind her presence, Aelin stayed reading over his shoulder as started a new tale about a witch who was said to live in the Middle, a neutral part of the Prythian forest. Aelin was only vaguely aware of “the Weaver” as it had been a scary story her parents had used to keep her and Aedion from venturing unaccompanied into the forest at night.

“It is said the Weaver is not of our world, but a death-god fallen from another dimension. A being of immense power, she reveled in the worship she received and reigned terror upon Prythian’s citizens, using live sacrifices’ life forces to keep her young and beautiful. However, she was bested by a young warrior, her power diminished, and subsequently doomed to occupy only a small parcel of land in Pyrthian forest.

Here, she crafted a cottage from bones, fat, and hair of those who crossed her path. The home filled with a collection of treasures, tanned skins, and yarn woven from hair. Untouchable by any of the neighboring lands, the Weaver did as she pleased within her boundary, lying in wait like a spider with a web. No one had successfully stolen a trinket and lived to talk about it, until—”

Rowan closed the book, effectively ending Aelin’s reading. She made a small noise of discontent and felt his body shaking. Suddenly, she noted her chest was pressed against the warm, firm planes of his shoulder and back. She’d been using him as a rest spot, he hadn’t corrected her—and now, now she was feeling his quiet laughter, not hearing it.

As though he could hear her racing thoughts or detect her panic, he whispered lowly, his accent thick, “I didn’t mind.” A warm heat bloomed in her chest at his words, her panic dissipating into calm feelings. Neither moved, maintaining the intimacy of the moment. Her mind wandered, wondering what it would feel like run her hand down his arm or to rest her head in the crook beneath his jaw.

Guilt took over before she could try to rationalize it away. Somewhere in her mind, she knew this was wrong and the thoughts she was starting to have, were wrong. Chaol deserved better than her and he should be the star of the things she was thinking. Yet, he wasn’t.

Aelin pushed away from Rowan, trying to end whatever was happening. Standing, Rowan stayed silent as his pine green eyes looked her up and down, seemingly searching for something. Aelin felt naked under his gaze, hating how he already had the power to make her vulnerable. The tension was palpable in the air, weighing on her. He took a step towards her, almost erasing the distance she’d put between them only moments ago.

“Aelin”

The rest of his words went unheard as the shop’s front door swung open, clacking against an entrance table. She stepped back and turned, zooming in on the person who’d rudely come in. She paled as turquoise met bronze. Chaol’s body was tense, face pinched in anger as he approached desk. Aelin would be the first to admit the situation probably looked bad to an outside party.

“What the hell is going on here?” Chaol barked, crossing his arms and glaring daggers at the both of them.

Rowan scooped his ghost leopard book off the counter and held it up alongside the campfire book, showing Chaol why he was here. “Buying books.”

“Is that code for ‘about to kiss someone else’s girlfriend?’” Aelin could see the vein in Chaol temporal throbbing.

“I don’t know what you think you saw, man, but we were just talking.”

“And you needed to be behind the desk to talk? Sounds like a load of shit to me.”

“Aelin was reading some of the book and I wanted to sit down.” Rowan’s answer sounded convincing despite it partly being a lie.

“Like she couldn’t read the book on her own time? She doesn’t need your help,” her boyfriend spat defensively, stepping closer in Rowan’s direction.

Aelin would never speak to either of them if they fought in her store.

“Can you both stop talking about me like I’m not standing here?” she exclaimed in frustration, throwing her hands up. Neither acknowledged her, too busy staring one another down. She would get nowhere as long as both stayed in Present Tense.

“Chaol, Rowan was just leaving. He was literally saying goodbye when you came in throwing a fit.” Aelin turned, eyes pleading with Rowan to go. He gave her a rueful smile, leaving her alone with her boyfriend. When the door shut, she focused all her attention on Chaol, who remained standing, arms crossed, glaring at the floor.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me? What the fuck, Aelin? I come here to surprise you and you’re basically nose to nose with some guy you swore you didn’t know. That’s the guy from the bar.”

“I don’t really know him. Yeah, I know his name and I know what books he likes read, but I don’t know him,” she admitted defensively.

“You’re bending the truth to fit your narrative, Aelin.”

“No, you’re just mad and hearing what you want to hear. I don’t know Rowan. Before last week, I’d never even seen the guy. In case you haven’t noticed, Orynth can be a really small place.” Aelin was trying with everything in her to maintain a level-headed conversation with Chaol but she could feel herself losing control.

“I just find that hard to believe. He was behind your desk. I’ve been dating you for six years and can count on one hand the times I’ve been in your office or behind the desk. Is he why you don’t want to move in together?” he questioned angrily, slapping his hand against the top of the desk.

Aelin startled, his gesture unexpected. This was the most upset she’d seen him in years and part of her was remorseful, but the other half, mad. He had no right to be slinging accusations at her and bringing their personal issues into a discussion that they had no bearing on.

“Stop using this conversation as a way to bring up other issues. Moving in together has nothing to do with that guy and quite frankly, it’s both hurtful and infuriating that you’d accuse me of cheating or whatever it is you’re doing,” she yelled back, her semblance of composure fracturing as her voice cracked.

“Don’t put words in my mouth!”

“So, it’s okay for you to come into my business, yell at a customer, insinuate using that customer as a reason for not moving in together… but when I question and correct you, I’m suddenly putting words in your mouth?” The palms of her hands were screaming in pain, her tightened fists digging her nails into the flesh. She would not break down in front of him. He deserved her anger, not her tears. If digging into her palms kept her from breaking, she’d do it until they bled.

“Fuck this,” he hissed roughly rushing backwards towards the door.

Aelin wanted to stop him, to not end this converstion on a bad note, but she stayed glued to where she was. Chaol glanced over his shoulder as he opened the door, “I’ll see you when I get back.” He left just as loud as he’d come in, the slamming door deafening throughout the empty store.

Aelin stood and stood and stood, staring at the door like he’d come back any moment and apologize for it all. But he didn’t. And it wasn’t until the sun began to disappear behind the tall buildings of the city, that she released her tights fists. The pale skin of her palms an angry red with crescent moon shapes imprinted in them, some bloodied.

As the pain receded, so did her resolve. Her eyes prickled, tears welling in them. She sunk down, crumpling on the wood floor, exhausted. Silently, tears rolled down her cheeks, shoulders shaking as she cried. Earlier she had been perfectly content, passionately discussing books and leisurely reading. And now, she could feel the crack in her soul growing a little larger, her light dimming a little more.

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Tag list:

@rowanaelinn @theresyourfireandblood @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories @morganofthewildfire @rowaelinismyotp @jorjy-jo @theresyourfireandblood @numbers-colors-fashion @swankii-art-teacher @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart

#rowan #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin au #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #songs about you #wordsafterhours #angst #slow burn #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #chaol westfall #lyria

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pinklocksoflove · 3 years ago

Text

It was a pretty average day, a bit on the hot side but rain was in the forecast soon. Taking a break from writing Karine heads out, she was feeling quite a craving for a watermelon monster and maybe a box of crackers. To the nearby grocery store she went. Clad in a light grey tanktop with a Royals logo on it and a pair of knee length shorts. All seemed fine, even a good classic rock song came on the store's sound system. Helped a kind old woman reach something from a high shelf. Being as tall as she is, she enjoyed helping others using her height like that.

Then Karine saw... her

You know the type. Middle aged, oversized sunglasses, hot pink tank top that is too tight, legs crammed into a suffering pair of yoga pants, the classic blonde and brown short haircut. Karen.

She was being rude to another customer for no apparent reason, who knows what little thing put a bee in her underwear bit she was making it everyone else's problem. As she turned, Karine saw the 'missile lock' in her eyes as she spotted the pink haired beauty. The Karen galumphed her way over. Knowing what was coming Karine decided to go deadpan literal hoping to throw her off and looked away towards the shelves

In that typical fashion the Karen says "Excuse me!"

Karine keeping a straight face replies. "Why? What have you done that needs excusing?" This threw the other woman off as she paused for a second, looking like a dog that had been shown a card trick then angrily asked.

"Can you help me?!" Scowl returning to her face as the younger woman replies in a very neutral tone.

"I couldn't possibly know. I don't know what you want, ma'am." The Karen's face twists into a look of disgust and anger... well moreso

"Where do you keep your eyelash curlers?" While Karine did know as she shopped here often she wanted to screw with this woman more.

"I don't keep them anywhere, if I did it would probably be in my bathroom." She stated plainly, keeping up the bit. The older woman argues

"Yes you do! I've seen them before!" This made Karine question if she actually had seen them and not at another store. Some people often confuse different stores as they all are the retail environment. Regardless she continues the bit.

"I'm certain I don't. I've never owned any. My eyelashes manage to bend all on their own. I'm more than happy with the bendiness of my eyelashes, ma'am. This immediately threw the Karen off once again

"Huh? What? No, idiot, I mean the store. Where in the store are the eyelash curlers?" To which Karine simply shrugs and replies

"I haven't got a clue." It was easier to keep the bit if she feigned ignorance. Clearly confused the older woman asks

"Why not?" To which Karine replies

"I refer you to my previous answer: I never use them." This certainly got the other woman's temper to start climbing more

"Aargh! Are you trying to be stupid?" And without missing a beat Karine replies.

"No, it's effortless." This made the woman screech, beginning to turn redder by the second.

"This is ridiculous!" Almost breaking a smile the pink haired beauty goaded her on by saying

"I completely agree, quite ridiculous." More screeching, people were already gathering around to watch this fiasco unfold. Then the Karen utters the mantra of entitlement

"I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR FUCKING MANAGER!!!" Stomping her foot like an angry toddler in a tantrum. Karine almost burst out laughing at this.

"There is an issue with that request, I don't have a manager. So you're asking to speak to someone who doesn't exist." This got a few chuckles out of the crowd.

"BULLSHIT!! You work here so there must be a manager!" Then it clicked for most of the people what was going on. Karine acting confused looks at herself in her state of dress and asks

"Did they change the uniform? I wasn't aware I was hired here." At that point a member of management and a security officer were rapidly approaching hoping ti diffuse the situation. Karine thought she saw a slight hint of understanding spread across the Karen's puzzled, angry face.

"You do work here... don't you?" It finally seems to be clicking for her.

Karine replies with a simple no which wasn't the a answer Karen was looking for.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING SAY SO??!" And there was the opportunity to bring the bit on home as management and security arrived

"You didn't ask me, until now. I gave no indication that I did either. You just approached me and started questioning me on my personal grooming habits." The Karen decided she has had enough and came as close to being face to face as she could with the six foot five pink haired woman, with about a foot difference in height

"YOU'RE A FUCKING MORON!!!" The manager puts her hand up in a gesture to stop Karen dead in her tracks. This wasn't the manager's first rodeo.

"Ma'am please stop swearing and lower your voice, there children here in the store." The manager turns to Karine and asks "What's happening, miss?"

Karine explains as accurately as she can. "I'm not really sure, this woman was being rude to another customer then she approached me and began interrogating me on my personal grooming habits, she wasn't happy with my answers so she started to spit shout at me. All I came here to do was get a watermelon monster and possibly some crackers, but ended up helping a nice old woman reach for something on the top shelf because I like helping people."

The Karen shouts arguingly "NO THAT'S NOT FUCKING TRUE. I WAS SHOUTING AT HER BECAUSE I THOUGHT SHE WORKED HERE." Not that anyone needed clearer proof she was a terrible person.

The manager puts a hand up again and states calmy yet firmly "Whether she was an employee or not, you can't talk like that. We have a strict policy about abusing customers and staff. We don't tolerate it." Still screaming Karen argues

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT SHE'S A FUCKING IDIOT! IF SHE HAD..." Once again the manager stops her, clearly done with this.

"Ma'am, stop shouting or I'm going to have to ask you to leave" The manager turns to Karine and asks. "You okay, miss?" To which Karine replies about ready to go and grab her drink and check out.

"Yeah, I'm all good, just thirsty. If you don't need me anymore I'll be on my way." Karine waves and the manager nods to her as the rest of the crowd disperses and Karen is taken to the front to have a stern talking to and due to her behavior, to no one's surprise is a repeat offense so she is formally trespassed from the store.

Karine gets her drink and spots Karen on her way out giving a sly smirk and takes a swig of her newly purchased drink.

#drabble #long post #Karine Langley

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emmyhem · 4 years ago

Text

always (l.r.h) part two

a/n: hi everybody! here is always part two, this is actually one of my favorite writings and one that I was looking forward to writing and posting a lot. it’s another angsty piece but with a sappy happy ending :) also it’s unedited but what else is new. i’ll probably post again tomorrow either a bestfriend!calum piece or a roomate!luke piece that are titled in my masterlist. i hope everyone enjoys and is having a wonderful day. i definitely am after that livestream today. (i would say that i didn’t cry because of how good and happy they all looked but that would be a lie) anyway i hope you enjoy and as always my messages are always open to chat or whatever and feedback and comments are always appreciated. thank you - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: it’s time for you decide whether or not luke’s mistake is worth losing the love of your life.

warning(s): mentions of alcohol, cursing, angst (but with a happy ending), self doubt, insecurity, mention of throwing up

word count: 2.9k

pt. 1

The longer you watched the window the more you were convinced mother nature was taunting you. The rain droplets that cascaded down the glass mirroring the tears that hadn’t stopped falling since you left Luke speechless in the driveway. It had to be for your benefit, I mean it was Los Angeles. California was in a drought for god’s sake.

Despite the fact that nature was mocking you, you couldn’t dare pull your eyes away. The alternative was to face the endless voicemails waiting for you on your phone that glowed dimly beside you. You knew you would have to hear them eventually but right now you knew that even a breath, let alone full sentences from Luke would break you in every sense of the word. You feared the sound almost as much as the content behind it.

You weren’t ready to be okay, you needed to wallow in your pain for a bit longer. As bad as that sounds you knew it was the only way you could convince yourself to let him back in, to forgive him. It was also the only way you could forgive yourself. Your body needed to feel how tortured you were without him, how much you needed his affection, his love, and him. Not his money.

Part of you knew deep down that Luke didn’t mean what he said, the part that awakened the butterflies that had taken permanent residence in your stomach since he had entered your life. The part that caused all your senses to align when Luke kissed you the night you finally understood what it meant to love someone with everything you have. The same part that was clawing at your heart right now as your mind replayed the look of pure devastation that was painted on Luke’s pretty features as you drove away from him. That part was itching for you to run to him, to cuddle into his embrace and say “I forgive you. I’ll never leave you again. Love me?”

But, it was the other part of you that was causing the problems right now, the part that snuck up on you each time you felt secure in yourself and tore it all down in seconds. The part that told you there was no way you were good enough for your boyfriend when you stared at your reflection in the mirror for even a second too long. The part that Luke was typically the one to silence when it overwhelmed you in a crowded room, with just a tender kiss to the forehead, or squeeze of your hand. The same part that constantly craved for Luke to be proud of you the way you were of him in anything he decided to pursue. That part was completely shattered last week when, whether intentionally or not he showed you that not only was he not proud, but also felt burdened by your lack of brilliance.

“Y/n,” your friend called, breaking you from your self-loathing thoughts as she approached your brittle body, enveloped in every single fuzzy blanket you could get your hands on.

“Hi.” you croaked, pulling your stinging eyes from where they had settled on a particularly large rain droplet that had stolen your interest as you wondered how much more water it could withstand before it burst from its flawless embodiment and shattered to the sill below. You wondered the same about Luke, how much more of your insecurity and emotional baggage would it take for him to burst. How much more of your mediocrity could he compensate for before you began to strip him of his excellence?

“Have you talked to him yet?” she inquired, eyes going soft as she looked at you with sympathy.

“No.” you groaned, pulling yourself up. “Do I have to?”

She shook her head, dismissing you. “You know that you’re welcome here as long as you want, but anyone could tell that you’re completely miserable without him, even if he is being an epic prick.”

You sniffled and wrapped your arms around your best friend.

“Am I an idiot for wanting to forgive him?” you spoke into her hair.

She returned the embrace and settled next to you in the bed, “I think if he really is sorry then you’re incredibly strong for it. And you’re never an idiot, that would be your blonde haired beau.”

You laughed softly at her innocent dig, the giggle catching slightly in your throat as it had only been releasing pathetic pleas, and broken sobs for the past few days.

Y/f/n handed you your phone, the photo of Luke and Petunia sitting by the pool being almost completely covered by all the missed call notifications that had taken over your lock screen.

“I think you should at least hear what he has to say babe, for your sake if not for his.”

You let out a heavy sigh and accepted the phone, wrapping your favorite blanket around your shoulders and dragging your feet to the bathroom for some privacy.

You took a seat in the empty bathtub throwing the blanket across your body. You reasoned it was the perfect place to listen to the messages because as soon as Luke’s voice flooded the room you would be completely submerged in him and you didn’t trust your legs to hold you up.

You clicked the most recent voicemail, time stamped from 1:28 am last night. As you selected the speaker option you allowed your eyes to fall closed and without noticing or trying you held your breath.

“Y/n,”

Only one word in you could immediately tell two things without a trace of doubt. One, he’d been crying, and two he was drunk. If you had to guess you would say tequila, it had always been his favorite and he had a bad habit of nursing his wounds in the liquor cabinet. It shattered your heart to think of him broken, and vulnerable and as he continued to speak you found yourself wrapping your arms around your body for comfort.

“I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his voice cut off as a sob played through your phone. You released a matching one while squeezing your eyes tighter, a shaky hand bringing your phone closer as if it would bring him as well.

As he continued, your mind began to paint a vivid picture. You saw him sitting on the kitchen floor, an old ratty sweatshirt struggling to keep him warm, damp tear stains spoiling the sleeves. There was a half empty bottle to his side and the tip of his nose was red as it peeked out from the hood. You shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the image that felt like your personal nightmare.

“I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby.” he spoke through gasps of breath that caused worry to spread across your body.

You paused the message as a dull ache creeped up from the bottom of your stomach and to your throat which was tightening by the second. You tossed your phone onto the blanket which you had kicked off as your body heated up, and sprung out of the tub landing firmly in front of the toilet. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail in your hand you hunched over and retched into the bowl. Y/f/n burst through the door as you gagged and coughed repeatedly, she took your hair from you and rubbed soothing circles on your back as you tried to focus your breathing through your nose. This wasn’t the first time you had cried yourself into throwing up during your stay so she knew what to do to calm you down and settle your stomach.

As you finished the glass of water she had poured from the sink while you brushed your teeth she held your car keys out to you.

“Please go see him. I can’t see you like this anymore.”

You nodded accepting the keys reluctantly and made your way to your car.

Once outside you noted that the rain had started coming down harder, it seemed fitting as your situation reached its climax. By the time you got into the car your hair was wet and stringy, dripping onto Luke’s shirt that you had been wearing since the night you left. You quickly tied it back and drove away, hoping the sound of the rain could calm your nerves before you got back to your house.

When you got there the sun was setting and the rain was still falling steadily, you grabbed a jacket from the back seat and held it over your head as you ran to the house. The jacket didn’t give you much protection from the water and you were soaked by the time you reached the door. Taking one big breath, in through your nose, and out from your mouth as you had been repeating the whole ride there, you raised your quivering hand and knocked three times.

Expecting it to take a few minutes for him to reach the door you were shocked when it swung open in just a few seconds. Your heart sunk as you took in Luke’s appearance, although you were sure you looked just as bad if not worse. Deep dark circles sat beneath his bloodshot eyes, his stubble had grown in a bit longer than he typically liked it and his lips were chapped and bitten down. Guilt panged in your chest, how awful of a girlfriend were you to let it get to this point? The thought made you question if he would even want you here.

Apparently the time apart had completely fucked with your ability to read Luke’s face because even frozen in shock, his eyes began to fade into that special soft color of blue they only got to around you. He felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from his chest and just as it had been since the moment you left the only word running through his head was “y/n.”

He didn’t see your messy, wet hair or the ratty tshirt that swallowed your figure. He didn’t see your eyes puffy from crying or your bitten down nails that you were bringing back up to your mouth in that moment as your nerves got the best of you. All he saw was y/n. His y/n. You came home to him and as far as he was concerned you looked like an angel. Warm, sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect.

Your eyes ran over his face anxiously, waiting for him to say something, or invite you in, or even slam the door in your face. Anything. After a minute of silence you gathered up the courage to speak first.

“Sorry I never called you bac-'' your words were knocked from your mouth when Luke took a step forward and wrapped you up into the tightest hug you’d ever experienced. Your limbs fit together perfectly, and the second your bodies met you felt recharged, as if everything was in place once again. And Luke felt like for the first time in a week he could breathe.

“I don’t deserve you.” he sighed as you pressed your nose into his chest deeply breathing in the smell you could only describe as home. “Thank you for coming back to me, I don’t work without you.”

From your position in his arms you could see the mess splayed on the floor behind him. It was just as you had pictured it earlier, a thin blanket and scratchy throw pillow were scattered on the floor in front of the sink, a bottle lying on it’s side just next to them. Guilt inched up your spine when your eyes made contact with a framed picture of the two of you on top of the blanket.

“I’m sorry.” you sobbed into his chest, your hands clawing at the material of his sweatshirt.

He pulled back quickly, keeping his hands on either sides of your waist, “No baby, why’re you sorry. This is all my fault, I was awful. You...you’re perfect.” he pressed as you shook your head in distress, unable to stop your tears.

“N-no I stayed away for so long, even when I knew I wa-wanted to forgive you. I was embarrassed and...and selfish.” you struggled to speak over your tears while Luke looked down at you sad and confused.

“What’re you talking about, love?”

You sniffed and dropped your hands from Luke’s chest, “I j-just wanted you to be proud of me.” the end of your sentence was nearly lost in your sobs but Luke understood. And in that moment he regretted going into music instead of engineering, or science, or whatever would’ve helped him to invent a time machine so he could go back and beat the shit out of whoever or whatever had possessed him last week.

His hands moved to cup your cheeks, his thumb tracing lightly over your bottom lip.

“I am proud of you baby.”

He leaned in slowly, and hesitantly, almost as if he was testing the waters, like this was new. As if he hadn’t kissed you thousands of times before. You looked up at him through your lashes littered with unshed tears and nodded your head slowly. He still had so much left to say, you still had so much left to say but you both had been needing this for as long as you’d lost it. He pressed his lips to yours gently, afraid that even one wrong move and you would decide that you had made the wrong choice in coming back. He wouldn’t survive that, he couldn’t lose you twice.

As he went to pull away you snaked a hand around the back of his neck pulling him back towards you. This time when your lips collided his body sagged into it, both arms wrapping around your back and lifting you up to the tips of your toes. Your eyes drifted shut and you reveled in the feeling of him pressed up against you like this. When the kiss broke you kept your faces close enough that your noses were touching, and opened your eyes to see Luke’s still closed, his eyebrows furrowed as he pressed his forehead to you.

“You’re what I’m most proud of.” he exhaled, his eyelids still shut lightly. “My greatest achievement is getting you to love me and I can’t believe I almost blew it.”

You brought a hand to his face and stroked his cheek lightly, the feeling of his overgrown stubble foreign to your fingers.

“It would take a lot more to get rid of me.” you assured. “I think m’too in love with you.”

He opened his eyes, locking them with your own, and spoke firmly but with a softness that was and would always be reserved for only you.

“I want to make it clear that you do not in any way leech.” he dragged the last word out, laced in disgust as if it were hard for him to say. “I lucked out. I actually just seem to keep lucking out, my job, my life, and you.” He placed a hand across your jaw and tilted your chin up before continuing. “I completely lucked out with you. I have lots of money, more than I need actually and it makes me feel fucking incredible that I can take care of you. That’s all I wanna do for the rest of my life.”

Your mouth broke into a smile hearing him verbally commit to a lifetime with you.

“But, with that being said I know you don’t need me-”

“I do need you.” you interrupted.

Luke threw his head back at your words, a toothy grin overtaking his face before he pressed a chaste peck to your forehead.

“Y’know what? You’re too fucking cute. I meant financially baby, m’trying to apologize here.”

You nodded for him to continue, struggling to contain your own beaming smile.

“Anything you decide to do occupationally or otherwise could never, ever let me down. You’re physically incapable of it. I’d be a lucky guy if you let me stick around for it all and I promise to never forget that again. I’m sorry I did in the first place.” he took a deep breath before finishing his rant. “M’only able to give you the world if you let me. Let me?”

You answered his question by attaching your lips once again, desire and need radiating off of the place where your lips met. As your taste buds reacquainted themselves with Luke’s mouth you wondered how you had gone even a day without him.

Luke felt like he was flying and he couldn’t wrap his head around how anyone in the world could live without, seeing you, knowing you, and kissing you. He also knew that he would do anything to ensure that he never had to go a day without you for the rest of his life.

“How long does it take to get an engagement ring sized?” he wondered to himself.

If he could’ve read your mind he would’ve seen white gowns, tiered cakes, and little blue eyed, curly haired monsters running amuck.

“I want everything with you, the whole world.” you affirmed when you pulled apart for air.

“Yea?” he responded.

You hummed against his lips, “Always.”

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Dream SMP Recap (March 14/2021) - The Plan

Tommy tells Tubbo and Ranboo about his plan to kill Dream and they establish a space to stake out the prison.

While they plot, though, an old friend makes his return!

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VOD LINKS:

Foolish

Tubbo

Tommy

Ranboo

Captain Puffy

Eret

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- Tommy walks over to look at the prison. He has a plan to kill Dream.

- He briefly greets Sam Nook and shelters him from the rain

- First, he heads over to Snowchester to explain to Tubbo and Ranboo what’s gong on. He makes it there and looks in the mansion. Foolish sees him, having thought he was dead.

- Tubbo and Ranboo come over and explain the manor house. To discuss business, they go to the execution room.

- Tommy asks Tubbo about getting married without him. Then Tommy opens up to Ranboo about feeling lonely about Ranboo stealing his best friend.

- He then tells the both of them that he died in prison and Dream is planning on breaking out. When he was dead, he spoke to Schlatt and Wilbur. Tubbo asks if Schlatt’s changed his ways.

- Tommy explains that time passes faster in death.

- Someone made an explosion on the top of the prison, Technoblade owes Dream a favor and might be a problem, Tommy wants to stake out the prison.

- Tubbo asks why it’s different now. Why didn’t they just kill him to begin with? Tommy tells Tubbo that he’s only planning on reviving Wilbur. The revive book wouldn’t be used for good.

- Ranboo agrees with Tommy. Tubbo asks why they wouldn’t want to revive Wilbur — Tommy tells them that Wilbur’s different now and can’t be let back. Tubbo still has doubts about the plan.

- They decide to make a space near the prison to observe.

- Tubbo leads them to his detective room

- Tommy tells them that Sam has failed his job and went against his orders to not let anybody else visit. Ranboo and Tubbo ask who else has visited since — Tommy doesn’t know.

- Tubbo shows him the evidence.

- They go back to Tommy’s house and Tommy reads Puffy’s message.

- The Egg comes up in conversation. Ranboo thinks it’ll solve itself.

- They go into the Nether to gather resources

- They spot Punz on top of the Eggpire meeting room and briefly speak with him. Ghostbur also shows up.

- Tommy asks if Ghostbur remembers him being dead and speaking with him. Ghostbur says the last time he spoke with Tommy was a couple days ago.

- Tommy asks about Wilbur, not Ghostbur. Ghostbur’s been away, he doesn’t remember.

- Ghostbur points out how everything is red. He likes it, red’s a good color. Like blue but wrong.

- Tommy asks Ghostbur if he wants Wilbur to come back.

Ghostbur: “The world needs structure and order, and he was good at that.” Tommy: “The world needs less villains, and he was a villain if I’ve ever seen one.” Ghostbur: “Sometime’s the line’s a little blurry… A villain is just a hero you haven’t convinced yet.”

Tommy: “No, but he started as a hero, and then he was the villain. I don’t think we should bring him back ever.”

- Ghostbur loves being able to walk around, he loves being able to touch things

- Tommy tells Ghostbur that he spent months with Wilbur, and Wilbur can’t come back. Ghostbur asks about the time conversion in Limbo.

Apparently in the afterlife, Wilbur spent a month explaining hemorrhoids

- They show Ghostbur the prison

- Ghostbur asks why Tommy doesn’t want Wilbur back again. Tommy says when they were trying to bring him back, he still thought there was some “brotherness” there

- Ghostbur points out he spent a lot of time with Schlatt, and Schlatt’s “the bad guy.” Schlatt and Eret.

- They say there are a lot of other bad guys out there, like Dream. Ghostbur says Dream was nice to him, though.

- They ask about Tubbo and Ranboo’s marriage (they got married for tax reasons initially) and they also bring up Michael.

- They introduce Ghostbur to Michael.

- Eret points out that he tried to revive Wilbur a while ago in chat. Ghostbur doesn’t remember.

- They head to the McPuffy’s and encounter Connor on the Prime Path. He gives Ghostbur his stabbin’ knife back. Ghostbur asks if Connor has his Chekhov’s Gun.

- They introduce Ghostbur to Sam Nook

- Sam Nook tells Tommy that Awesam gave him specific orders to keep Tommy away from the prison for his own safety. He says he might have to report this to Awesam, and he won’t be pleased.

- They continue building the tower

- Ranboo tells Ghostbur he hasn’t seen him in a while. Ghostbur’s been sleeping. The resurrection was stressful — he got a glimpse of the other side. He’s back because Tommy needed him, and he heard it through the grapevine.

- Ghostbur asks why they’re trying to break into the prison again. Ranboo explains that they need to kill Dream, or else a lot of bad things — even things Tommy doesn’t know about — might happen.

- Ghostbur says that Dream was a bad guy, but then they were friends. Ranboo explains that Dream tends to manipulate to gain power, and they need to get rid of him because he still has power.

- Ghostbur asks what the worst he could do is — Ranboo says he could bring back the “villains” in this story.

Schlatt? Mexican Dream?

- Ghostbur asks if bringing back Wilbur is off the table. Ghostbur is scared. Not scared of Wilbur, but scared of going back to nothing. He likes being here.

- Ranboo never knew Wilbur, only Ghostbur. But it seems like Ghostbur is Wilbur’s good intentions.

- Ghostbur’s read Wilbur’s memoirs (though they’re destroyed now), and explains that Wilbur started out with good intentions.

Ghostbur: “Now more than ever, I think it’s really important we have a leader.”

- Ghostbur is willing to help, whether that means keeping Ghostbur or bringing back Wilbur. Ranboo doesn’t know what would be best, though.

Ghostbur: “History is written by the winners.” Ranboo: “Yeah, and he…technically won.” Ghostbur: “But he lost, everyone hates him.” Ranboo: “I don’t think that everyone hates him. I don’t really hate him, I mean it’s like hearing about a historical figure.”

- Ghostbur leaves to get snacks, leaving Ranboo to ponder. Tubbo never told him much about Wilbur. He doesn’t know — he doesn’t think they need a leader.

Ranboo: “Because if someone rules everyone, then when the leader becomes corrupted, then — well, we see what happens.”

- He doesn’t think anyone really wants Wilbur back, so why is it even a question? All they know is that they have to kill Dream. The only person who might want Wilbur back would be Phil.

- If they can get rid of Dream, then everything will be good! If Dream comes out of prison, the voice might come back too. And the one thing Dream will want is revenge against the people who put him in the prison in the first place.

- Ranboo needs to be involved and not stand idly by. As the person with three lives, he has the upper hand.

- Ghostbur returns with snacks! He also gives Ranboo some blue

- Ranboo goes back to his house and looks at his vault, where he has an extra set of maxed Netherite armor. The others need new sets prepared.

- Puffy sees the Red Banquet decorations being set up in the Egg Room

- As she walks around on the surface, she talks about how Tommy is making an effort to better himself with therapy

- She’s heard a rumor today about her “duckling,” Dream — that people are plotting to kill him.

- Dream has done wrong, she says,

“But, more than anything else…murder…is not a proper consequence to another murder. Two wrongs don’t make a right. And although I’m not a Dream apologist — believe me I hold him more accountable than most — there’s a reason that I haven’t visited him. And…it’s because I don’t think, right now, he deserves it. But…as much as he’s wronged Tommy, as much as maybe Tommy thinks this will help him in the long run, in some way, shape or form…I think it’s gonna hurt Tommy more than anything. I think, ultimately, Tommy’s gonna feel guilty for this and we don’t — I don’t know how he’s gonna handle it! I don’t know if Tommy’s meant to be the one to go through something like this again, even if it results in Dream’s death.”

“See…the thing about morals is, everybody has different ones.”

- She says Dream needs to pay, and the walls of the prison aren’t secure enough to contain his chaos. She doesn’t think it’s as impenetrable as Sam says it is.

- Dream is stuck in prison, but he’s still the topic of discussion on everyone’s minds — which Puffy sees as the jail not doing its job.

- Everybody has now seen how they’ve reacted to Tommy’s death, including the people who didn’t care, and they now have to come to terms with that.

“More than just therapy is coming to the Dream SMP."

Upcoming Events:

- Quackity’s business opening

- The Red Banquet

- Eret’s lore stream

END OF WEEK RECAP:

3/8 - Ponk’s preparations, Michelle is brought to Snowchester

3/9 - Ponk’s last warning to Foolish, Hannah gets trapped with the Egg

3/10 - The Eggpire’s attack on the Temple, Sam rescues Hannah

3/11 - Nothing much happens

3/12 - Tommy exits Pandora’s Vault

3/13 - Nothing much happens

3/14 - Tommy plans to kill Dream, Ghostbur returns

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts #there's probably a typo in here somewhere #just got that gut feeling i missed one

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puckinghell · 5 years ago

Text

Acts Of Service | Elias Pettersson

Summary: When people have different love languages, sometimes it’s hard to understand what the other is trying to say. 4 times Elias shows you he loves you, and the 1 time you tell him. Words: 7.5k (whoops) Note: This concept was very interesting to explore. Also yes, this entire thing was written because of that one picture of Elias in that blue sweater stepping out of the car like a fucking GQ model.

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(Some time ago)

“Didn’t you say there’s an apartment free in your building?” Brock asked as soon as you answered the phone, forgoing the “hello”.

“Hello, Brock, my very good friend, how nice to talk to you! How are you doing?” you deadpanned.

At least he had the decency to sound ashamed. “Ah, yes, hi. Sorry. I’m just in a hurry and it’s important.”

You frowned. “Why? Are you looking to move?”

“No.” Brock laughed. “Stetch would kill me. No, it’s about the rookie. Petey? I told you about him. Swedish, quiet, best fucking hands in the league.”

Yes. Brock had told you about the rookie, although you still thought it dumb to call him that. Brock was basically still a rookie himself.

“What does that have to do with my apartment building?”

“He said no to having a billet family but everyone on the team thinks it’d be good for him to have someone to kinda look out for him a bit. He’s never been to Canada before this, you know, and he’s never lived on his own either. His English isn’t that great and everything is new for him. And since you’re such a caring, loving person, we thought…”

“You thought I could babysit him?” you finished for Brock.

“It’s not babysitting. Just, being friendly if he needs anything. Obviously we’re there for that too, but it’d be nice to have you so close by.”

Close by would be an understatement: the free apartment was across the hall from yours.

You weren’t sure if this sounded like something that you would necessarily want to do, but you did feel a bit sorry for Elias: you’d met him at a team thing earlier that week and he’d looked completely lost in the midst of all the Canadian hockey slang that you barely managed to follow, even after having been friends with Brock for years. He mostly kept to Eagle, spoke in Swedish, and his eyes flickered nervously across the room whenever anyone else approached him.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll talk to my landlord. But you owe me, Blondie.”

Brock was happy enough that he didn’t even call you out on the nickname.

“Have I told you lately how much of a lifesaver you are?” You lean across your desk, resting your chin in your hands. Elias looks mildly amused as he hands you the papers.

“Nearly every day,” he says, “but then I save your life every day, so that seems fair.”

You grab the papers from his hands.

“You’re a lifesaver and the love of my life, Petey.”

You think back to when Elias just moved into your apartment building, only because Brock thought he needed someone to look after him. You could laugh, now, thinking about how wrong he’d been.

Elias is the most self-sufficient, independent person you know. You don’t think he’s ever needed anything from anyone. Like in hockey, where he can make the play and score the goal all at the same time, Elias has his life together.

Unlike you.

Despite the fact that Elias hadn’t needed much help from you, you had become very fast friends. His quick witted sarcasm always managed to make you laugh and he liked how upfront and honest you were with him about things. It was easy, too, to spend time together. With him living just across the hall, you found yourself wandering to his apartment whenever you were bored, and he showed up at yours often when he didn’t feel like cooking.

Just because he could cook, didn’t mean he always wanted to.

And ever since the two of you had become friends, Elias had your back. When you needed someone to water your plants, or feed your cat Puck – Brock had named him – or, apparently, bring you the important work papers that you forgot at home after having worked on them all weekend.

You groan as you flick through the papers. “I thought I was going to die. Without these I can’t finish my presentation.”

“When is it?” Elias asks, eyes searching behind you. You know he’s looking out for your asshole of a boss, who will use any excuse to yell at you, especially the unannounced visit of a friend.

“Tomorrow. I got all the content in these papers here, but I still have to make the PowerPoint.” You sigh. “It’s still so much work.”

“Oh.” Elias’ face lights up. “Almost forgot. Brought you this.” Triumphantly, he reaches down and comes up with a paper bag from your favorite coffee shop.

The words fall off your lips in a gasp. “You didn’t!”

“Strawberry scone and a large caramel macchiato with soy milk.” Elias grins. “I also got you a chocolate chip cookie for later.”

“Marry me,” you proclaim, as you make grabby hands for the bag. The coffee is precisely what you need and your mouth is already watering at the idea of the food.

“Get me a ring, then,” Elias jokes, as he starts getting up from the chair.

Something tightens in your stomach, so you quickly take a bite of the scone: anything to push those feelings to the side. It works a little, and at the very least it tastes amazing.

You’re just friends. If you were gonna be anything more, Elias would’ve made a move already. Or, if you’d been brave enough, you would’ve: but he’s never said anything to make you think he’s interested and quite frankly, you’re not that brave.

“Thank you,” you say, mouth still full of scone, and Elias wrinkles his nose at that as you knew he would.

“I’m going to the store now,” he says, “anything you want me to pick up for you?”

“Wine?” you ask, hopeful. “I’m gonna need it after today.”

Elias rolls his eyes at you, but when you come home after the most grueling day at work there’s a bottle of rosé sitting in your fridge, next to a bag full of your favorite Thai take out food.

Love you, you quickly text Elias, even though you know he can’t answer because the game is about to start.

You take some time showering and putting on comfortable clothes, then situate yourself on the couch and put on the game. It has already begun, and you know it’s not gonna be an easy one, against the Bruins.

It’s not until the first intermission, when you check your phone, that you see there’s a reply from Elias waiting for you.

It’s just a simple heart emoji, but it makes your heart race anyway.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I can barely hear you.” Fiona’s tone is disapproving, and you pull your mouth away from where you’d pressed it into your arm to scream.

“I said, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

She laughs. “It’s just a car, Y/N.”

You don’t necessarily like your job, but Fiona is one of the reasons you’re still putting up with it. She’s not just a colleague anymore, slowly turning into a friend and someone you confide into about everything – even about your Elias problem – and you love her, but sometimes you could murder her.

“It’s not just a car,” you bite. “It’s my only mode of transportation, because you know how much I hate taking the bus, and it’s broken, and I probably can’t even afford to get it fixed. And now I have to walk home, and it’s raining.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Fiona admits.

After a long day at work, you couldn’t wait to get home and watch The Bachelor until you fell asleep, your cat in your lap. However, when you finally got away from the office and stepped into your car, it was clear the universe had different plans.

It didn’t start.

After trying approximately 15 times, you’d screamed, nearly cried, hit the steering wheel, and then went back inside to scream and cry a little more at Fiona’s desk.

“I just wanna go home, Fi.” You know you sound miserable, but you honestly can’t help it. Taking the bus always heightens your anxiety, so you avoid it at all costs: however, walking home in this pouring rain doesn’t seem like much fun either.

And Fiona can’t even bring you home, because she takes the bus to work like a normal person.

“There’s a simple solution to this, you know,” Fiona says. She starts to organize the papers on her desk, a clear sign that she’s getting ready to leave the office as well. “You could just call…”

“No,” you interrupt her, knowing exactly where she’s going with this. “I can’t call Elias. He’s got the boys over today and I won’t interrupt his fun with my misery. Besides, he does too much for me already, I can’t ask him for more.”

“Right,” Fiona drawls, “but when he hears that you were stuck here and didn’t call him…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

Elias would be furious.

One time, you were on a night out when you got a little too tipsy and didn’t realize your phone had died. By the time you noticed, all your friends had already jumped in their respective Ubers, but you had been too busy chatting with some girl you didn’t know to order yours, and now you couldn’t because you didn’t have a phone.

You knew you could’ve asked any random person to order you an Uber, or at least to borrow their phone to call Elias – it’s not like you didn’t know his number by heart – but that felt like too much. It had been 3 am and he had a game the next day, so you decided to walk home.

When he found out the next day, he got so mad he didn’t talk to you for 4 days. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and just sat on his couch pouting at him until he spoke to you again.

“Something could’ve happened,” he’d muttered, explaining to you why he got mad in the first place. “And I’m your best friend, and you should know me enough to know that I would much rather you wake me up than you walk home alone.”

You did know that, and he was your best friend, and you’d promised him you’d never do it again.

It’s only that promise, that causes you to reach for your phone.

“I’m texting him, but if he’s busy, I’m walking,” you tell Fiona stubbornly. She ignores you, which is probably fair enough.

Hey, you busy right now? Are the guys still there?

The answer comes right away. What’s wrong?

Damn, he knows you too well. You quickly explain the situation and before you know it, Elias is on his way to come get you, and Fiona is bidding you goodbye after you promise her you’re fine on your own for the twenty minutes it’s gonna take Elias to get there.

You’re just checking your email on your phone when you hear the bell at the front door.

“I’m coming!” you call out. You hurry to grab your bags and then walk quickly to the door, where Elias is standing with his car keys between his fingers.

“So Bella finally gave up, huh?” he asks, a sly little smirk on his face. He always teases you with the fact that you named your car.

“Yes, and I know you told me,” you sigh, and it’s clear that he immediately – and correctly – reads your mood.

Without a word, he opens his arms, and you gratefully fall into them, hugging him tightly to your body. There’s very little in the world that brings you more comfort than one of Elias’ hugs: although being on Elias’ couch wearing one of his old hoodies watching some stupid reality show might come close.

“Let’s go home,” Elias finally mumbles, and he holds out an umbrella when he lets you go.

It’s raining really hard, and you know he has to park his car a little bit away because there’s no parking in front of your office, so you take it.

“You could’ve just called, I would’ve ran out,” you tell him sternly, but he shrugs.

“But then how would you have gotten the umbrella?”

You would tell him you’re not made of sugar, but as soon as you step outside the rain clatters loudly against the fabric of the umbrella and you realize you would’ve really, really hated to not have it, so you stay quiet.

Instead, you walk after him as he runs to his car and opens the passenger door for you. It’s still running, and the heater is on: only then do you realize you’re quite cold.

This morning they said it would be nice outside, so you didn’t bother to take a coat.

It’s quiet in the car for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, and combined with the soft music that is playing on the radio it lulls you into a false sense of comfort.

Until you realize something.

“Oh God,” you groan, “I’m gonna have to call someone to tow Bella to a mechanic.”

Elias raises an eyebrow. “Well, you could just leave her there.”

Normally you would’ve at least playfully punched his arm for the sarcastic tone in his voice, but right now you’re too busy freaking out.

“And how am I gonna get to work tomorrow? Don’t you dare say you’ll bring me cause I know you’ve got morning practice and it’s super out of your way. Fuck, why did this have to happen to me?”

You let your head fall against the window. The glass is cold against your cheek and it’s enough to stop the spiraling in your brain at least for a second.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice has lost all sarcastic edge. It’s gentle now, and he’s speaking low as if not to startle you. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll call the tow truck and the mechanic and get your car fixed. And Brock lives close enough that he can take me to and from practice and you can just take my car to work.”

It’s… a reasonable solution, but once again something that Elias has to go out of his way for, even just a little bit, and you feel something warm bloom inside your chest.

“Okay,” you answer, the stress already ebbing away. “Thank you. You’re the best.” You reach out and place your hand on his knee, squeezing slightly. “Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Elias mumbles something incoherent. You think you see some color on his cheeks, but surely that’s just because the heater is on, because there’s no way he’s blushing over something you said.

You turn off the heater, and let your thoughts wander as Elias drives you home.

Traveling is fun, but traveling for work is instantly a lot less fun. You really don’t know how Elias does it.

You’re feeling run down and jetlagged when you come back from your work trip, which is ridiculous cause you flew to Toronto, not to freaking Europe. But it’s late at night and the three days you were away were so busy you can barely remember sleeping at all.

Fiona slept on the plane, so she looks a little more alive than you when your feet touch the ground at Vancouver airport.

“Is Elias coming to pick you up?” Fiona asks, as you’re both walking through the gate.

You shake your head. “I’m sure he would’ve insisted if he could, but he’s in California right now. They played the Kings tonight and they’re playing the Sharks the day after tomorrow.”

“I wish I was in California,” Fiona says wistfully. It’s cold and wet in Vancouver and it wasn’t much better in Toronto. The tiredness doesn’t help: it feels as if the cold of the night is slowly creeping into your bones.

“Come on then, I’ll drop you off.” You thank Fiona and follow her to her car. Normally you wouldn’t have minded taking an Uber, but right now you just wanna get to bed as soon as possible.

“If I fall asleep, just let me sleep here,” you mumble, resting your head back against the head rest. Fiona laughs as she starts the car.

“No way, you’ll freeze to death.” She squints outside. “Do you think it’s gonna rain?”

“It always rains,” you say, despite the fact that it’s not raining at the moment.

Fiona turns onto the highway. “So, are you finally gonna put up that bookcase you bought?”

Involuntarily, you groan. “Stop, don’t remind me.”

Your old bookcase is big and ugly, and it has been a thorn in your eye ever since you moved in. The person that lived there before you left it there, and you only kept it because you couldn’t really afford not to.

Four weeks ago, you finally allowed yourself to buy a new, prettier bookcase.

But…

“It’s just so big,” you whine, repeating the excuses you’ve been giving Elias every single time he raises a judgmental eyebrow at the old bookcase still standing in your living room. “It’s gonna take forever to take it apart and then it’s gonna take me even longer to somehow get it all downstairs and get rid of it.”

“And then you have to build the new one,” Fiona nods understandingly. “And you’re not good with furniture.”

“Hey,” you protest, but it’s weak. You’re not good with furniture, which was proven when you tried to help Fiona move in and didn’t manage to help her put together anything at all. Instead she ended up with a table with three legs.

You even tried to read the manual, but it’s just not your forte.

“I’ll do it,” you add, “I promise you I will. Just, maybe not this weekend…”

Fiona laughs, but she doesn’t call you out on the fact that it probably won’t happen during the week either.

Finally, you arrive at your building. You can’t wait to go to bed, and you thank Fiona multiple times before dragging your luggage upstairs. When you open the door to your apartment, Puck comes running up to you, meowing and weaving between your legs.

“Don’t be dramatic,” you tell the cat sternly. “Petey sent me many pictures of you sleeping in his lap and I know he feeds you chicken when he thinks I won’t notice, so you got spoiled this week.”

You lovingly scratch Puck’s ears, before flicking on the light and kicking the door behind you in the lock.

Instantly, you notice the difference.

Your apartment isn’t big: real estate in Vancouver isn’t cheap and your job isn’t great. You got this place mostly for the location, and you like the big windows in the apartment and how it manages to get in light even during the darkest of winter days.

One corner of your living room, however, was always darker than the others. The bookcase took away the entirety of the white wall, and it created a dim lit, sad looking corner.

Now, it’s open and bright, as your new bookcase stands proudly in its place.

There’s only one person who would’ve done that.

The phone rings a few times, but you know the Kings game ended a while ago so you let it ring. After a while, Elias picks up.

“Sorry for the background noise,” is the first thing he says. “We’re on the plane. Taking off in a few minutes, probably.”

In the background, you hear some yelling. Probably Jake.

“You put up my bookcase,” you blurt out, ignoring Elias’ statement. “You put it up and all the books are in it and the other one is gone.”

Elias sounds a little smug when he answers. “Well, it’s not like you were ever gonna do it.”

“Thank you.” To your own horror, you can feel tears burning behind your eyes. “Elias, seriously…”

“It’s nothing.” You can hear Elias’ smile even over the phone: you know everyone always makes fun of his deadpan tone when he talks to media but with his friends, his voice always betrays everything he’s feeling. “I know you were worried about it, and I know how much you hated that old one.” He laughs. “I get why now, by the way. It took me and Brock like four hours to get that thing out.”

“Brock helped too?”

“He did.” Elias is silent for a while, but in the background you hear another voice. “Brock says to tell you that I forced him. But that’s not entirely true.”

Entirely. You know Elias definitely did force him.

“Tell him thank you too.”

“He says you’re welcome,” Elias says, quick enough that it makes you think Brock didn’t say that at all. “We’re about to take off so I have to put my phone on airplane mode. But call me tomorrow okay? I wanna hear about your work trip.”

“Okay.” For some reason, you can still feel the lump in your throat. You didn’t notice it momentarily, while you were focused on Elias’ and Brock’s bickering, but now it’s back, and with a vengeance.

Fuck. You just…

“I miss you.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself and if anyone would ask, you would blame the exhaustion and the fact that Elias can’t see how wet your eyes are over the phone.

“I’ll be back soon,” he answers softly, and his voice is gentle in a way that makes you think he knows about the tears, anyway. “And when I am, we’re gonna take a whole night to eat food and stare at that bookcase, because it needs to be appreciated after the effort I had to put in to build it.”

You laugh before quietly saying goodbye to Elias and hanging up the phone.

In the kitchen, Puck sits in front of the fridge. When you open it there’s a pan with chicken.

For Puck the note next to it says, and you send Elias a picture of Puck with his chicken.

“He spoils you,” you tell your cat. You decide to ignore the fact that he kinda spoils you, too.

When you open the door to your apartment, you’re met with the smell of garlic.

After yet another shitty day at work, you can already feel the lump in your throat building again. You didn’t even tell him, this time. In fact, you carefully avoided his texts because you knew he’d clock that something was wrong.

Fuck. That’s probably where you went wrong in the first place; usually you never ignored Elias’ texts.

“Hello?” you call out into your own apartment.

There’s soft music playing and there’s light coming from the living room, but the amazing smell that tickles your senses is clearly coming from the kitchen, so that’s where you go.

Elias is standing at your kitchen counter, chopping a carrot.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling your way. “I’m making dinner.”

It’s almost too much, how domestic it looks. And how right: like he belongs there in your space, waiting for you to come home.

Suddenly there’s the overwhelming urge to go towards him, so you do. His arm immediately lifts, creating space for you in the crook of his body, and you slip under his arm easily.

“How did you know?” you mumble into the fabric of his worn Canucks hoodie. It smells like him, a scent that reminds you of home as much as your mother’s signature dish.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” Elias hums. His arm tightens around your body. “So I figured you could use some good food and a bath.” His head motions towards the general direction of the bathroom. “I’m running it as we speak.”

God. You love him.

It hits you, then. You knew you had a crush on him, knew you wanted to kiss him and hold his hand and feel his hands on you. But it’s more than that, now.

It’s the realization that you want to share everything with him. The ups and the downs. The bad nights and the bright mornings. You want him in your kitchen, but more than that, you want it to be his kitchen, too.

Fuck. You’re so royally screwed.

Because he does this, and he does so much for you, but he’s never said anything, anything at all, to indicate that he wants that. Or has even considered it, thought about it.

Maybe it’s never even crossed his mind. Maybe he takes care of you like he would take care of a sister.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice is gentle as it pulls you out of your thoughts, back down to earth. “You’re shaking. Go take a bath, and I’ll finish dinner, and then we’ll watch How I Met Your Mother. I wanted to watch the next episode but I waited for you.” His grin is a little lopsided. “Isn’t that chivalrous of me?”

It is, and normally you would tease him for it, but you can’t really think or speak, so you just nod.

“There’s wine in the fridge, if you want a glass,” Elias says. He holds out a wine glass, already waiting for you on the counter.

And who cares that it’s only a Tuesday: you deserve it, damn it, so you open the fridge to find the wine.

You’re met with more than just that.

“You bought groceries?” you ask, your eyes traveling through your fridge. You hadn’t gone grocery shopping in like a week, and when you left for work this morning the fridge was basically empty. Now it’s so full you wonder how you’re gonna close the door.

“How else was I gonna cook anything? You only had cat food left,” Elias tuts. You’re not surprised to find Puck at Elias’ feet, waiting for him to inevitably slip him some human food.

“Did you get…”

“Your coconut yoghurt? Yes.”

He did, and he got basically all your staples, and nothing you wouldn’t buy yourself.

“Honestly,” you say, as you finally reach for the bottle and pull your head out of the fridge. “I don’t know what to say, Petey. Thank you. I had such a sucky day and now it’s already endlessly better.”

This time you know you’re not imagining the flush on Elias’ cheeks.

“It’s fine,” he says. “You should go take that bath before it goes cold.”

You want to say more: to tell him time and time again how amazing he is, how much he means to you, how thankful you are. But you know once you start, you can’t be trusted to not say the one thing you don’t think he wants to hear.

So you say nothing, and simply go to take your bath.

But you think about it.

You think about it all throughout Christmas, where you don’t see Elias at all. You think about it during NYE, when you get a drunk SnapChat from Elias with his brother, right at midnight.

At least, you figure, he’s not kissing any girls.

You’re not kissing any boys, either. You’re at a NYE party with Fiona and it’s fun, it is, but it’s not the same as it would be if Elias wasn’t all the way in Sweden.

You miss him like a limb, and you know it’s not fair because he rarely gets time to go home to Sweden and he deserves that time with his family, but you can’t say you didn’t wish his time off ended already.

When it finally does, it’s not Elias you see first. Troy is throwing a late New Years party, just to welcome everyone back to Vancouver as they get ready to start the season back up, and when you arrive at his house it’s early enough in the evening that there’s only a handful of people there.

“Y/N!” Brock calls out, opening his arms to give you a big hug as you enter. “Missed you!”

You laugh. “Get off of me, you giant. I’m gonna drop the wine.”

“Not the wine,” Troy says dramatically, tearing it out of your hands. His eyes are sparkling when he thanks and hugs you, and then Brock is ushering you into the living room, where Jake is talking with Quinn.

Or talking at Quinn. To be honest, you never really know when Quinn is paying attention.

“Y/N!” Jake exclaims, much like Brock had. “I’m glad you’re here, we need your input on something.”

“Okay?” you ask, curiosity instantly taking over. Whenever Jake and Brock get together, it promises to be an interesting evening.

“We’re trying to decide Brock’s love language.”

It’s sudden enough that you laugh. “His what?”

“Love language,” Jake explains. “Like, how he shows people he loves them. He says it’s quality time, but I think it could be physical touch. He’s always touching people.”

“Jake is deflecting because his love language is physical touch,” Brock scowls. “I think I know my own love language, Tuna.”

“Hold on.” Unfortunately, you have to press the pause button on their discussion. “What options do we have?”

You’ve got no idea where they got this from, but it doesn’t really matter. You’re always down to share your opinion on stupid stuff with your favorite boys.

“There’s gifts, quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation, and…” Brock pauses, and you can nearly see the wheels in his head turning.

“Acts of service,” Quinn offers, which proves that he was actually paying attention.

“Mine is physical touch,” Jake says determinedly. “When I care about someone, I always wanna be touching them, and when I’m in love with someone that’s like twenty times worse.”

“Poor girl,” Quinn mutters, and the conversation gets paused in order for Jake to put Quinn in a headlock.

“I think yours is quality time, actually,” you tell Brock when Jake is done murdering the rookie. “Your ex was always on her phone during your date nights and I remember it drove you crazy.”

“See,” Brock says proudly. “Quality time baby. If I’m there I’m there.”

“What about yours, Huggy?” Jake asks. “Physical touch would make sense, since you’re called Huggy.”

“I’m not called Huggy,” Quinn deadpans. His face is devoid of any emotion, but you know him well enough to recognize the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He reminds you of Elias, when he does that. “And if we were going by nicknames your love language would be fishing.”

Everyone cracks up on that, and then the doorbell rings and Bo arrives.

The topic gets put on hold, then, because Bo is instantly talking about Gunnar’s first Christmas and Brock is talking about becoming an uncle again and you feel warm and happy on the couch with your wine, squeezed between Brock and Troy.

Until, a little later, you realize someone is missing.

“Where’s Petey?” you ask Troy. “Isn’t he coming?”

Troy shrugs. “Should do. But you never know with Pete.”

It’s not entirely true: if Elias promises he’ll be there, he will be there. But, to be fair, he usually doesn’t promise that to anyone but you, and you hadn’t asked him to come, this time.

You figured he just would.

“What about Petey’s love language?” Brock asks idly, not knowing he’s opening Pandora’s box for you. “Definitely not words of affirmation, huh.”

Troy laughs.

“Nah, Petey’s an acts of service guy. He’s always doing shit for Y/N.”

You would protest if you trusted your voice not to shake. As it is, you stay quiet and hope the flush on your cheeks gets mistaken for a wine flush, and not an Elias flush.

Brock brightens. “Oh, yeah! Getting her car fixed, making dinner, building her stupid bookshelf, feeding her cat… He is a typical acts of service guy.” He bumps against your shoulder playfully. “I hope you appreciate his showing of love, Y/N. He rarely does that shit for me.”

Troy snorts. “That’s cause he’s not in love with you, Boes.”

“He’s not in love with me either!” you squeak, unable to stay quiet any longer. You know if you don’t derail this trail of thought very soon, it’s gonna end badly for you.

Both Troy and Brock look unimpressed, at that statement.

“Yes, he is,” Brock says slowly, as if explaining something to an unruly child. “He drops whatever he has going on to do small things that make your life easier. That’s literally the same as him screaming I’m in love with you from the highest rooftop in Vancouver.”

“He’s not like you,” Troy continues, a little more gentle. “When people have different love languages, they don’t always understand what the other is trying to say. Your love language is words of affirmation. You’re always telling Petey how amazing he is. But he doesn’t see that as a declaration of love, or whatever. He thinks you tell everyone that they’re amazing.”

You do, to be fair, but not as often as you tell Elias. Because he’s…

Well. Amazing would be an understatement, actually. He’s everything to you.

Things are starting to make sense, like puzzle pieces fitting into place. Suddenly, you start wondering if there’s more to his acts of service than plain friendship, or him being a good guy.

It’s not like he does stuff like that for all his friends. He helps them out, sure, but he always goes above and beyond for you, usually not even needing to be asked.

But he’s not in love with you, surely? He hasn’t said anything…

But maybe words aren’t his thing. Not like they are yours: the way you can’t stop yourself from gushing into Elias’ ear even when you know you should stop.

What if Brock and Troy are right?

You don’t get much time to think it through, because that’s when Elias finally appears in Troy’s living room, looking endlessly cool in his blue sweater, wearing his glasses. He’s sending death glares at Jake, who wolf whistles from the corner, but then his eyes meet yours and they soften.

“Hi there,” he smiles, reaching out to you. You immediately jump up and launch yourself at him, any previous conversation about the two of you momentarily forgotten as you curl your body into his, his arms tightening around your waist.

“Missed you,” you hum into his shoulder, and you’re rewarded with a grin you can feel against the skin of your neck.

“Are you sure hers isn’t physical touch?” you hear Brock ponder, and you would flip him off if you could be bothered.

You can’t. All you can be bothered doing is plastering yourself to Elias’ side and not leaving him alone even for a second, the rest of the night.

It works at least for a while, until he asks: “Do you want another drink?”

“I’ll go with you,” you say, not willing to part with him yet, and you ignore the knowing look Brock shoots you as the two of you find your way to the kitchen.

Elias immediately goes for the wine, because he knows you better than anyone else.

“I asked my dad about the job,” Elias mentions casually, as if it’s not a big deal at all. “He thinks he can get you an interview.”

“Wait, what?”

Suddenly your heart is ticking in your throat. Before he left for Sweden, Elias had mentioned that his dad knows a guy who works for a similar company as you’re working for now: apart from the shitty boss you have or the ridiculous low salary you get paid. It’s your job, but better, and Elias promised you he’d get his dad to ask if there were any open positions.

There were. And you sent in your application not thinking there was gonna come much from it, but now…

Something warm washes through your chest, like your heart grew three sizes. Of course he asked, of course he made it happen. Looking out for you, always and at any time, from any distance.

“It’s not a done deal,” Elias warns, oblivious to your mental breakdown. “But he said he thinks they’ll like you and he’ll put in a good word for you.”

You squeal and throw yourself in his direction once again. Elias laughs as he catches you, fingers curling in your hair where your face is pressed against his chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“It’s about time you get rid of that dumb job.” You can hear the frown in Elias’ voice. “They don’t take good care of you at all, it’s not good for you.” The distaste is obvious and it’s adorable. You pull away.

“I don’t need them to,” you say, carefully. You can still hear Brock’s words in your voice, and you figure it’s worth a try, probably. “Because you’re always there to take care of me.”

Elias’ cheeks darken substantially.

“I mean it when I say I don’t know what I’d do without you, Elias.”

“You’d be fine,” Elias waves away the compliment as you figured he would. But this time you’re not backing down.

“Maybe I would be. But I wouldn’t be as happy.”

They say when you really love a person, you’ve got to show them. But you’ve never really known how to do that, instead you always use your words to tell them. But it seems like Elias isn’t believing you, not even now.

And you’ve got to fix that.

It’s not until you’re in Elias’ car on the way back home that you bring it up again. The party wasn’t really the time and place, but the conversation with Brock and the guys has been nagging in the back of your mind since it happened.

If you didn’t realize Elias’ acts of service meant something, maybe he doesn’t realize your words of affirmation mean something. And even if it doesn’t mean he’s in love with you – you’re really not that sure about that – you need him to at least know how much you appreciate him.

“You know I’m always there for you, right?” you start, carefully breaking the silence in the car. Elias shoots you a glance from behind the steering wheel.

“What?”

“Like, even if I’m maybe not as good as you are at realizing what you need me to do, if there’s ever anything I can do to help make your life a little easier or better I wanna do it. I’d do anything for you.”

It’s too honest, probably, and too much all at the same time. But Elias doesn’t look that surprised. In fact, there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You make my life better by just being you, Y/N. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you wonder how you’re gonna get through this conversation. But it’s one that needs to be held, so you press on.

“What is your love language, Elias?”

Now he frowns. “Have you been talking to Brock?”

Of course Brock talked to Elias before he talked to you. The traitor.

You decide to ignore that, for now. You’ll talk to Brock later.

“You know my love language is words of affirmation, right?”

Elias shrugs. “Brock did say that, but I didn’t know what you thought it was.”

“And yours is acts of service,” you hazard a guess. You keep your eyes firmly on Elias’ face, which is the only reason you catch the slight change in his expression.

Like a wall, crossing over his features. He’s trying to protect himself, although you have no idea why. Does he not get where you’re going with this?

“I can tune it down if you want me to,” he says, a little grumpily. He’s staring straight ahead at the road, stubbornly refusing to look your way.

And oh God, he’s truly not getting it, and this is going the exact opposite way you want it to go.

Troy did say that when people’s love languages don’t match, they don’t understand what the other is trying to say. But you honestly don’t know how you can make it any more clear to Elias.

Well, except…

“I love you,” you blurt out. “Like, in love with you love you.”

The words ring loudly in the quiet car. For a second, nothing about Elias’ expression, almost like he didn’t hear you. You can almost feel your heart sink into your stomach.

Then, he pulls over the car.

It comes to a stop at the side of the road, two wheels on the pavement and two still on the road. It is, objectively, not super safe, but it’s also 3am and there’s no other cars to be seen. Very carefully, without looking at you still, Elias turns on the hazard lights.

And then finally, finally, he turns to you and kisses you.

You weren’t expecting it but it doesn’t really matter: it’s like your heart and head both light on fire, and everything outside of the car simply disappears. It’s just you and Elias, and his lips on yours and his hands on your body.

It feels right. Like it was always meant to end up like this.

After what feels like ages, he pulls away. He’s smiling, and his eyes are bright blue in the dark car.

“I thought you said those kinda things to everyone,” he admits, quietly. His thumb is rubbing your side, his eyes fixed on that spot. Almost as if he can’t really believe he’s allowed to do that.

You don’t want him to ever do anything else.

“I thought you did those kinda things for everyone,” you shoot back.

Elias raises one eyebrow. “That bookcase weighed at least 300 pounds.”

You can’t help it: giggles are escaping your lips and suddenly you’re both laughing. The tension in the car dissipates instantly, and suddenly it’s just Elias again, your best friend.

Your best friend that you’re now allowed to kiss. So you lean in and press your lips against his again.

After all, kissing is a love language you think everyone understands.

(+2)

“I’m home!” Elias’ voice sounds through the empty apartment, and you immediately leave your spot behind the kitchen counter to run into the hallway.

With a squeal, you fly towards him, and he catches you easily as you knew he would.

“Hey, babe,” he laughs quietly, pressing a kiss into your hair before returning the hug fully. “Is that my sweater?”

“Maybe,” you admit, as Elias’ hands make their way under his own blue sweater, that you definitely steal from him most evenings. “Missed you. And I’m very proud of you.”

“I missed you too,” he answers. “Watched the game?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes, even though you know he can’t see it with your face still buried in his shoulder. “A hat trick, huh? I think that needs to be celebrated.”

“Oh?” Elias pulls away then, one eyebrow raised and a cheeky twinkle in his eyes.

“Not like that,” you scold him, lightly punching his arm. “Or, maybe like that. But first, I made Kalops.”

At the mention of his favorite Swedish food, Elias’ face lights up. A while ago, you asked his mom for her recipe and it’s one of the only Swedish dishes you can make, but you make it well.

“Also,” you continue, as you take his hand and start leading him towards the kitchen, so he can sit at the counter while you cook as he always does, “I called the electrician so the TV is already fixed. I know you could have done it, but I decided I’d much rather use that time to hang out with you. I took Puck to get his shots at the vet and I also used my free afternoon to take your car through the car wash.”

When you reach the kitchen, you twirl around towards Elias and his arms immediately circle around your waist.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he mutters, taking the opportunity to kiss you once more. “But thank you. I love that you took the time to take care of that for me. And I love you.”

“Look at us,” you tease, lightly tugging at the ends of Elias’ hair. “Speaking each other’s love language like that.”

“Perfect couple,” Elias agrees, and you smile back at him.

Somehow, you and Elias managed to create a language of your own: one that you could speak with nobody else. But luckily, you don’t have to.

Cause he came home to your shared apartment like he always does, and well. That’s the biggest act of service he could do for you.

#elias pettersson #vancouver canucks #nhl fic #elias pettersson fic #elias petterson one shot #elias pettersson imagine #nhl writing

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licuadora-nasir · 4 years ago

Note

Hello ! Do you write for queer reader ? If so, may you please write a Lance x Male reader, where they were long time best friends before (TO) Lance loves reader but as the last dragon he thinks it’s his duty to continue the legacy so never aknowledges his feelings wich leads him to be quite depressed, until Erika-I-stick-my-nose-everywhere find out somehow and build a plan with others to confront both about it ?

Thank you !

Hey there! Thank u for your ask, I loved the prompt! And I'm sorry for the delay, my relative is still hospitalized but he's better😊.

Also, of course I write queer, I'm part of the community and even though Eldarya doesn't have queer options regarding the MC I think it's interesting to treat other possibilities.

This one's structure was a bit different from the one I normally use. My amazing beta @rina-nanashiro and I have come to the conclusion that would be better to use the first person singular and the omniscient narrator to correctly portrait each character thoughts.

For this one, let's say that the plot is settled not long before Lance becomes the chief of the obsidian guard and Erika arrived 4 years earlier.

Also, whether the MC is human, faerie or faelian is up to you. I didn't dwell on any physical descriptions or mention his race.

To conclude, my ask box is closing soon. So if¡ anyone wants to request something, you have a couple of days to think about it.

Lance and a male MC have problems confessing their feelings and Erika meddles in under the cut

I carefully settled the dumbbells in the fresh grass, brushing away the light film of sweat, which covered my forehead, with the back of my hand.

Almost every day was a sunny one in the City of Eel. I have been told once that the shield surrounding the Head Quarters repelled rain and other natural phenomena, and I was delighted to enjoy the warm sunbeams, though as the day drew on, training in hot weather wasn't very pleasant.

A group of females crossed the gardens and threw a glance toward my bare, glimmering chest, sweat sliding down my pectorals and abs. One of them blushed while the other winked at me. The flustered one dragged her friend away while she couldn't help her giggling.

I was used to the attention. Such things would usually happen whether I was training shirtless and why not saying it, showing off a bit.

But those females’ attention... wasn't the one I was longing for.

As if my thinking was some kind of magnet, the object of my thoughts suddenly appeared in the Central Pavilion. I gulped and clumsily tried to fix my hair, using the fingers to comb the lost strands while Lance was engrossed in a conversation with Erika, laughing by his side.

"Hey, you" The girl gave me a sincere smile while Lance grabbed the nearest towel and threw it at my sweaty face not before smiling too. Jerk.

"Thank you, Lance.” I rolled my eyes seeking to restraint the smile of my own.

"Why are you training at this hour? It's too hot," asked Erika.

"The correct question would be why you are training and showing off at this hour." The dragon winked at me not before running his eyes over my bare chest.

I gulped for a second time and focused on the dumbbells on the ground, ignoring the warmth that settled in my chest and threatened to go down to my inner thigh. Yeah, it was indeed hot there.

"Well, it may be too hot for you both, but I enjoy the warmth." And while Erika simply didn't favour it, Lance was naturally more comfortable in cooler places. Disadvantages of being an ice dragon, I supposed. When the man opened up to the guardian and revealed his true nature, I was speechless.

It was a well-kept secret that not many knew and that such a closed-up person as Lance decided to give me that reliance meant the world for me. He didn't only trust me but wanted to show himself as he was. As the powerful and endangered being that he was. Keeping that secret all their lives made the twins wary of everyone, afraid of their reactions. But what I saw didn't frighten me. It made me want to know Lance more and unravel the person that hid behind that dense layer of steel and smugness.

"Oh come on, just admit it! You want to get tanned since summer is close!" Well, maybe that was another reason why I was training at this hour, but there was no way Erika was get away with it, so I hurled my towel, full of sweat, into my friend's face which made her grimace in disgust and Lance chortle.

"By the way, where's Valkyon? I need someone to back me up since apparently, you two have decided to bully me today." Valkyon had told Erika about his new nature as well. Before starting to hang out with the brothers, I didn't know much about the woman apart from her faelian condition, but we quickly befriended each other after spending time with the twins and meeting in several missions.

"He's been assigned to organize the armour's stock, so don't expect to hear from him in the next two hours," replied the brother.

Suddenly, a female elf popped next to us, most likely an acquaintance of the dragon. Her pink stare found Lance's, and she smiled sweetly at him as she spoke up

"The Obsidian Chief would like to meet with you. He's looking forward to discussing your promotion if you don't have any relevant matters at hand right now.”

"Yes, of course, just give me a moment." Lance turned to face me. "I came by to ask you if you're available after lunch. I've found some cool techniques in one of the books I'm reading and I thought you might be interested in learning them."

My chest tightened at the words, and after taking a deep breath I answered.

"Of course, I would love to." Lance parted from us undertaking to meet us at lunch with the rest. Normally, we would have lunch with Valkyon, Ezarel and Nevra, and sometimes Miiko, Yhkar and even Kero would join.

I sighed thinking about my last training with the Obsidian-Chief-to-be.

Lance was situated behind me, a firm hand holding my hip while the other grabbed my arm in a defensive position.

"You are doing it wrong. If anyone sees you with a posture like that one they'll mistake you for a novice lost on the battlefield. Let me teach you how to do it.”

I was painfully aware of my friend's figure pressed against my back. The warmth was sinking into my body, and I tried to think about pure things instead of embarrassing himself, but it was so difficult to focus on something else when his breath skimmed my ear and my butt was pressed against his-

"Hey."

"HEY."

"SNAP OUT OF IT, SCATTERBRAINED!" Erika brought me back from my memories with a hard slap to my head.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, VIOLENT MAD WOMAN?!" Geez, Erika could be really aggressive at times.

"I want to know what's going on with you" The young woman was directly looking at me with a clear stare. The kind of stare that made her violet eyes shine brighter. "And before you answer 'I don't know what you're talking about Erika, I'm perfectly fine' please, don't take me for a fool."

"I don't think you're a fool."

"I know something is going on with Lance. Every time he turns his back, you stare at him with that painful-but-loving look on your face and you sigh like he has taken your breath with him."

"I think you're a busybody."

"Come on, talk to me." I attempted to go away, but she grabbed my wrist. "I'm your friend. You know you can trust me."

"There's nothing to talk about. And nothing is going on with Lance either."

"Is it because you're both males? You know no one would-"

"It's not that!" I broke free from her grasp and finally addressed her. "I don't give a fuck if someone came insulting me or spitting shit on me or whatever. It just... It's Lance, we aren't talking about anyone." The problem wasn’t just that we were both males. It was far more complicated than that.

"And that means...?"

"It means he's a dragon. It means that apart from Valkyon, his race is extinct. He's born in a different league, and he shouldn't be with a male. He shouldn't be with me." I lost count of the times I wished Lance had been born as a female, or me, for that matter.

"You don't even know what he wants."

"I know what he deserves."

(But Erika didn't agree with him. Lance deserved someone that cared about him and not some random female that could give him offspring. And the guardian loved him. Deeply. She knew the second he met him he had a crush on Lance, and she could bet the dragon noticed as well. Come on, even Valkyon was aware of the guardian's feelings for his brother.

The one who didn't seem to realize Lance attempts to hit on him was the guardian. He was so dyed-in-the-wool that he didn't even consider the possibility that Lance could be interested in him as well. But she couldn't blame him: Lance himself was a mess of feelings.

The guardian wasn't wrong: Lance truly thought it was his duty to continue the legacy of his race, but he was conflicted between what he thought he had to do and what he desired, what meant taking one step towards his friend just to take two back. They were more and more miserable as each day passed and Erika couldn't stand seeing her loved ones like that.

What if they couldn't have offspring? Should they sacrifice their happiness just because they couldn't have kids? They love each other. They cared about each other. That should be enough.

But there was no use trying to convince them otherwise, so she did what she knew best: stick her nose into someone else's problems.

She conceived a plan to confront them: In three days, she would go on a mission. But at the last minute, she would remember that she had to deliver an urgent letter to Lance that he had to read immediately and she could ask the guardian to deliver it.

That way, when Lance opened the letter in front of the guardian, instead of coming across with an important document, he would find a text that said something of the sort "Actually, this whole thing was an excuse. I wanted to confess my feelings for you even if I didn't know how."

Yes, he would definitely kill her, but she wasn't going to sit in silence and watch how his possibilities of going out with Lance were decreasing each day, right? There were a lot of girls going after the twins, therefore if the guardian didn't hurry... Another one would do it.)

One morning, after I had accompanied Erika to the boat to wish her good luck in her mission and say goodbye, she let out an astonished gasp. "Oh no! I can't believe I forgot! Please, can you take this to Lance? It's something urgent, so tell him to open it the moment you give it to him!"

"I... Yes of course, do you know where he might be?"

After being told that at this hour he would probably be on the edge of the forest, I wasted no time and hurried up. Erika was a competent girl, but it wasn't a surprise that she sometimes forgot things like that. She could be hardworking and a mess with legs, but that made her more adorable.

I spotted the two brothers taking a stroll and conversating about something probably irrelevant since Valkyon seemed to be mocking his big brother. They were inseparable. Wherever Lance or Valkyon went, the other would tag along. It was truly heartwarming seeing how much they cared for and loved each other.

"Lance! Erika forgot to give you this." Both dragons instantaneously turned their heads to look at me, eyes clear and ready to listen to whatever I had to say. It was kind of funny to watch how seriously they take their roles. "She said that it was important and you should open it immediately."

When Lance opened the envelope, Valkyon took a step closer to his brother but after reading the first words, he squeezed his twin's shoulder and departed not saying a word.

When we were finally alone, Lance looked up to face me and muttered. "You finally came to talk about your feelings for me?"

Those eyes were clear as ice, and even though there was no trace of mockery, a heavyweight settled in my stomach. My...feelings for him? What the hell he was talking about?

I didn’t even say anything. I just gave the envelope that I had been tasked with and that was been all. At the sight of my confused mien, the dragon tended me to the letter.

I slowly took it, not leaving his eyes for a moment, and when he read I... My hands ripped it apart and tossed it somewhere in the woods without caring where it landed and hissed. "This was that busybody's doing!”

‘I wanted to discuss my feelings with you,’ she wrote.

I couldn't believe Erika had done that. It wasn't her affair and she had no right to meddle in someone else's business. How would she feel if I did that to her?

“Just... Look I'm sorry I can no-" The blood under my face was boiling, my whole body was boiling in shame and panic. I couldn't face him right now, I had to get the hell out of there.

I didn’t make it far before Lance gave me a firm grip on my wrist and said "Please, let's talk. This was my fault. I should have talked to you earlier, explain myself to you before anyone stuck their nose into this."

"What are we going to talk about, Lance?" I confronted him praying this new growing determination would not abandon me. "Do you want to talk about how you can't be with a male? How we are not meant to each other?"

"You know that's not true."

"Isn’t it?" I frowned and let a sad chuckle slip my lips. What a bastard. "You can't be with me, Lance. You deserve and want someone who can give you a family, that will bring you children, and I can't do that."

The dragon didn't so much talk. He couldn't say the proper words because I wasn't mistaken.

"There you have it." My voice cracked at the first word and I could have sworn something broke inside him as well seeing the gaze he gave me. "You may want me, but I'm not enough for you." Tears ran freely down my face like raindrops of a cold, cloudy day in winter. "Find a good mate, Lance. You have many admirers, so I don't think you'll have much trouble."

Lance couldn't stand it. He had never been a coward and that wouldn't be the first day he would start being one. He gently brought his hands to each side of his friend's arms and held him there. Firm but gently, he gripped him making sure he wouldn't go anywhere until he finished what the guardian deserved to hear.

"Look at me, please." Those eyes that were always full of love were hurt and sorrowful. He took a deep breath and let out his thoughts.

"I do not want you, I love you. You can not imagine how much I care about you and what your presence in my life means to me." His hands were slightly shaking. "You are right. I think that as a dragon, I must continue our legacy, but I have been unfair to you. I couldn't make up my mind, and I have hurt you."

The guardian started sobbing and one of the dragon's hands met his face to wipe his tears.

"You know, I've talked about this with Valkyon several times and I've realised my brother is right. I dese- We deserve to be happy. Together. Whether I can or cannot have offspring doesn't matter, it shouldn't be a duty and I shouldn't force that on you."

The guardian sobbed harder and embraced his beloved, feeling his hand on the head, the other arm gently stroking his back. Lance couldn't restrain a few silent tears of his own at the sight of the male whom he loved him as much as was loved by.

They will make it work, Lance could assure.

Do you have any requests? Feel free to stop by my ask box! But first, please read this.

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vivianweasley · 4 years ago

Text

Pride and Prejudice (Chapter 6)

Summary: Your father is Lucius Malfoy’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley.

Last Chapter! (I combined the last chapter and the epilogue cuz they are not too long.)

Pairing: Fred Weasley X Malfoy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: food mention, mention of divorce, people pretending to choke, proposal.

Word Count: 1.8k

Disclaimer: photos used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on any platform! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

Pride and Prejudice Series Masterlist

Fred walked downstairs, noticing a faint smell of apples in the joke shop. “So are we selling apple juice now, Georgie?” he joked.

But George looked confused, “What apple juice? I could only smell caramel-” And then the answer finally came to George, “Amortentia!”

Fred followed George to the shelf displaying amortentia and immediately realized a firecracker just exploded next to this shelf, causing at least four bottles of amortentia to break and the love potion inside to spill.

George waved his wand and cleaned up the mess, but a satisfied smirk soon appeared on George’s lips, “Strange. Didn’t know you liked apples this much.”

“Shut up and go back to work!” Fred raised his voice, covering for the fact that he’s a complete mess now.

That fainting smell of apple that’s still lingering in the shop also had a dash of the scent of book pages in it. And this combination could only remind Fred of one person.

You.

The person whom he married out of a dare. The person who he fell in love with during the process. The person who just walked out of his life.

George noticed the change in Fred’s expression. How defeat was now written all over his face. “Mate, you need to do something. You can’t just let her walk away like that.”

“What can I do?” Fred sighed, “Maybe she’s been waiting for this all the time.”

George sighed with Fred. This wasn’t like his brother. Soon the lingering smell of amortentia caught his attention, and a brilliant idea popped into George’s mind. “She has feelings for you too, and I can prove it to you!”

You pushed open the door of the joke shop. George just called you claiming that there’s an emergency, so you rushed to the joke shop immediately after work.

George approached you with a small glass vial, “Y/N, this is the new perfume I just made. I need your opinion.”

So this is the emergency??

You looked at George, couldn’t decipher what his smile meant. But you did know one thing. In fact, everyone who went to school with the twins should know the rule: be careful of what they handed to you. So you stepped away from that vial and asked with caution, “When did the joke shop start selling perfume?”

“Oh, we are always trying to expand our business,” George noticed how you became alert, so he added, “I swear to Merlin, this is not a prank!”

Still finding his smile suspicious, but for Merlin’s sake, you still decided to take the vial.

“Does it smell good? What does it smell like?” George asked carefully.

“Hmm...” The perfume did smell very good. You could smell the sweetness of cinnamon, a dash of gunpowder, but it also smelled so familiar. It smelled like...Fred’s cologne? “George, I’m pretty sure someone else has already made a perfume like this.”

“Really? How so?” George felt his heart beating at his throat, so scared that you might say another person’s name.

“Isn’t this just Fred’s cologne?” You were finding this unbelievable. How could George not recognize his own twin’s cologne?

“Oh really!!” Hearing a definitive answer from you has made George so happy that he pulled you into a hug. “Got it! Thank you for your opinion! You’re the best!”

“You’re welcome...?” Watching George being so happy that he could start dancing at any minute, you were beginning to think that the chemicals in the perfume were toxic. How could making a plagiarized perfume make a man so happy?

Two days later, you apparated to the joke shop again. It was raining outside. Maybe the weather was trying to set the tone for what was about to happen next. After taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door of the twins’ apartment, the apartment that you called home for the past year.

Fred opened the door, letting you in without saying a word. You tried not to look at him so you could appear indifferent and won’t be affected by his expressions.

“Here’s the divorce document,” you said as you took out all the paper in your bag. He took the documents and flipped through the papers quickly, still not saying anything at all.

You couldn’t tell if his silence meant he’s also not ready to say goodbye or he just had nothing to say to you. But you tried not to overthink as you continued, “Oh, before you sign it, you still have one wish left. What do you want me to do?”

“What if I said,” he finally looked at you, his eyes capturing yours, “I don’t want you to go?”

His words were like a drum in your ears, rendered you speechless. Before you could fully process what he just said, Fred continued, “It might sound crazy, but for the past few days, I realized I just couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. I know I’ve lived 20 years without you perfectly fine, but now that I’ve had you in my life, I don’t ever want to live without you again. I know I could be insensitive sometimes, and I probably did something stupid that made you mad in the past year, but I’m willing to change if you tell me to.”

“All I’m trying to say is,” he took a deep breath and continued, “Please allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. And please don’t divorce me.“

You finally let out a soft laugh. That’s Mr. Darcy’s line in Pride and Prejudice. You remembered reading this part to him during Christmas, and you couldn’t believe that he actually memorized this line.

Fred panicked when you weren’t talking, “But of course, if you really want to, I wouldn’t stop you. I-“

“You know, you don’t have to use your last wish on this,” you stopped him, “I was going to say yes anyway. But If you insist, that won’t be a problem with me.”

Fred’s eyes widened as he processed your words, “Wait, does that mean-“

You answered his question by pulling him down and pressing a kiss on his lips. He was shocked by your sudden action but soon kissed you back with his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

So this is what it feels like to kiss him, and it’s so much better than how you’ve imagined it would be. It started a soft kiss but soon became more passionate, as if you were making up for all the time you two spent on being oblivious.

“Should’ve done this earlier.” A smirk appeared on Fred’s lips when you finally pulled away.

“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were still heated.

He chuckled before giving you another soft peck on the lips. His hands were still resting on your waist.

“And you’re still this idiot’s wife.”

～(warning: people pretending to choke, food mention)~

“Y/N, there’s a Mr. Weasley looking for you,” the receptionist raised her eyebrows and smiled at you.

“Thanks! I’ll be done in a minute!” You quickly finished the last sentence and looked at Luna from across the table with your puppy eyes.

She chuckled, “Alright, you can leave early today.”

“Thanks, Luna, you’re the best!” You flicked your wand to pack up your bag before running to the door.

“Tell Fred I said hi!” you heard Luna’s voice behind you.

“I will!”

A month after your fake marriage ended, you quit your job at Whizz Hard Books. You didn’t want to work in a place that wouldn’t accept who you really are.

Ginny introduced you to Luna Lovegood and The Quibbler. You immediately fell in love with the whimsical ideas and style of The Quibbler, and Luna gave you a new job as you two hit it off very quickly. So this is where you work now. No need to hide your background and use a fake last name. This place accepted you for who you are.

Fred was at the door, opening his arms when he saw you running to him. “Happy one-year anniversary, darling!”

You giggled as you ran into his arms, “and this time, it’s real.”

“Yep,” he pressed a kiss on your forehead, “ready?”

You nodded, and the next second you two apparated to your favorite restaurant.

The dinner was delicious, and for dessert, Fred ordered your favorite cake. But when you were enjoying the cake, you suddenly felt something hard inside. This was extremely dangerous, for you could’ve swallowed it if you weren’t paying attention. You were just about to complain when you finally realized what it was.

It’s a ring!

You were surprised. Was Fred trying to propose? But last time you checked, you two were still legally a married couple.

But this also seemed like what he would do on your one-year anniversary. You were sure he was waiting to see your surprised face, and an idea soon came to you.

You pretended that you were trying to pick up your spoon because your elbow “accidentally” swept it down on the floor a few seconds ago. When you were sure Fred couldn’t see you, you slid the ring on your finger. Then you got up and took another bite of the cake like nothing out of the ordinary happened.

A few seconds later, you started coughing. Your brows were furrowed as your hands reached for your neck like you just choked on something.

Fred was freaking out, knowing that he’s the reason behind all this, “Darling, are you alright?”

The only response you could produce was a few glottal sounds and you looked like you were almost crying.

Fred ran to you as fast as possible. He wanted to help, but he had no idea what to do as his brain was in an absolute mess now. The only thing he could manage to do was apologizing again and again, “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have done that. Baby, I’m so sorry…”

The noise you two were making attracted the other customers’ attention, and you saw a waiter approaching you with his wand, trying to help. You knew it’s probably time to stop this prank.

“Are you talking about this?” You finally stopped acting and waved your left hand in front of him.

Fred’s expression froze, still trying to recover from the terror of accidentally hurting you. After a few moments, he finally realized, “Wait, does that mean…”

“YES!” You chuckled.

Fred’s furrowed brows finally unfolded as a bright smile appeared on his lips. He picked you up and spun you around, “She said YES!”

The crowd around you was clapping and cheering while your husband was cheering himself as well.

You giggled, “Freddie, you know we never went through with the divorce, right? So technically, I’m still your wife.”

“I know, darling, but I figured that I owe you a proper proposal,” he said while pressing multiple soft kisses on your face, “Plus, I just want to make this official. I love you, darling.”

“I love you too,” You smiled as your lips found his again, “I love you most ardently.”

A/N: I can’t believe I really finished this series asdfgfgjk Thank you guys so so much for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking this series. I can’t tell you how much your support means to me❤️

Series Taglist: @ifilosemyselfagain @theweasleytwinsgirl @bookworm06 @unabashedbookscollector @txtdreamss @sagittarius-flowerchild @rsheridan @ovrwd @anywherebuthere @allaroundaddict @jeminila @secretsofageek @magical-spit @freddieweasleyswife @lilypad-55449 @hufflepuffzutara @honey-honey-5644 @kyloren-peterparker @treblebeth @kyloren-peterparker @fred-sux @rodrickmalfoy @liliputbahn @its-yasbxtch @daydreamgirl8 @305weasley @awritingtree @lucymfer @bberree @malfoy-wife15 @weasleyxmalfoyxstyles @justfollowtheroad @nojamsonmytoast @amc723

(If your name is bolded, Tumblr wont let me tag you. And I’m really sorry if I forgot you!)

(General taglist in reblogged post cuz it can’t fit in one post)

#fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley series #fred weasley x malfoy!reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

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alch3mic · 4 years ago

Note

Could. Could I request SOFT TM SWAPAROO!BEAST/KING FLUFF??? aa??

The job you had was rather... peculiar one.

It certainly wasn’t the strangest job you’ve ever had in this crazy city, not by a long shot, but it was perhaps the most interesting you've had yet.

You were a personal maid.

That in itself was a pretty ordinary job title, which is why you didn't hesitate to apply for the job when you saw it online one day.

It was described simply as a live-in kind of gig with some rather long hours attached and a rather strange set of requirements, but the pay was way too good for you to pass up.

So you applied.

You were met the very next morning with a very strange phone call from a very callous individual who asked you some very bizarre questions.

The kind of questions you very much never asked for a job interview.

...Which made the whole thing seem very suspicious to you.

Still the money was very tempting so you decided to... very much continue with the job application anyways.

After what felt like more of an interrogation than a proper interview, the voice on the phone had told you to come down to the 'estate' for a face to face, and from there they would decide if you really got the job or not.

At this point you had expected a couple of things.

Like, maybe this was just some kind of prank and you'd show up to an empty lot, or... maybe it was a really elaborate ruse to rope you into some kinda weird pyramid scheme?

Wouldn't have been the first time that kinda stuff happened with all the different jobs you've applied to over the years.

Well, what you hadn't expected was to show up to the most ominous looking mansions you could've ever imagined; complete with deep dark colors, thorny rose bushes and several tacky gothic ornaments that made the whole thing look like it popped straight out of a storybook for a villain.

To top the whole affair off you met the owner of said villainous mansion; one very tall, very intimidating skeleton, who held the same callous tone as the one who spoke to you over the phone.

...A Fell...

And that's when your heart sank.

Seems like your bad feeling was right.

.......Until it wasn't.

The exchange you ended up having with him was actually rather pleasant, and he seemed to warm up to you rather quickly when you made an unexpected friend out of his cat. His sour expression ended up turning.. well.. less sour at the very least, and from there the two of you really seemed to hit it off.

Your job, as he described, would be easy.

Take care of his recluse brother.

......And that was it...?

Alright, you said.

And really, that was it.

You were given a rather cool looking (although also kinda tacky) uniform which completely matched the whole dark and gothic interior of the house, a tour of the place, and a small list of duties you were expected to perform daily along with anything else his brother asked of you.

Anything else, Papyrus took care of.

Cool.

Great.

Stellar, really.

What your new boss failed to mention was how much of a recluse his brother really was.

Like, the guy didn't even leave his room the first few days you were there.

You exchanged very few words with him through a large set of double doors on occasion, and you eventually managed to work out a bit of a schedule where he'd leave his room for a few hours and you'd tidy his space up.

You still ended up never seeing him.

He'd always miraculously disappear before you came in, even the few times you'd shown up just a few minutes early in hopes that'd you catch a glimpse of this guy.

But, no luck.

The whole affair just left you feeling rather curious about who exactly it was you were taking care of. You could tell from picking up his room that he was tall, much like his brother, but also kinda wide.

Built more like a square than a rectangle.

You could also tell he had a variety of interests from the books always messily littering his room. Anything from astronomy to zoology, all of the pages meticulous marked with sticky notes and papers with hastily scribbled notes on them. There was also an assortment of crafty things, like fabrics and chains always hastily thrown together on a desk that he apparently used to make things, such as outfits for himself.

It was cute, in a way.

He even eventually made something for you.

A gold bracelet, decorated with most delicate porcelain red roses who's petals were also trimmed in gold.

A thank you, he said, for taking care of him... and for filling the halls of this home with your singing.

You absolutely adored it, which is why it made you all the more determined to finally meet with him face to face.

Of course though, just like with everything else in your life, none of your plans ever worked out. Every opportunity to catch a peek at him was missed, even on the days where you would slide him things like meals through his door. He was always shadowed by the light in his room, so you could never see his face, and he always closed the door so quickly so your eyes could never adjust.

It was.. a little frustrating but, really it wasn't your place to push why he hid away.

You did happen to ask Papyrus one day when you were helping him tend to the rose bushes, but he all he told you was that his brother was shy around other people.

...Shy your fuckin' ass.

Sure, he was sweet. You could tell that from not only the gift he gave you, but also from the extended conversations you'd have with him on the other side of the door. He was a bit quiet in your first few exchanges but eventually warmed up a lot more to you the more you tried to strike up friendly conversations. He ended up becoming a little more cheeky, and seemed to have a certain skill for making you bust your butt laughing with his otherwise raunchy humor.

Really.. with that kind of smoother talker personality you really had to wonder what he went through to make him so cautious around others.

But.. again it just wasn't your place to ask.

You were here to make a paycheck, not invest yourself into the problems and lives of others... despite how much you enjoyed working for your employers.

Both of the brothers ended up treating you very well.

You were paid handsomely and never felt yourself being overworked. They never asked anything outrageous of you, gave you a rather lovely living quarters all to yourself on the estate grounds and even gave you adequate days off.

The whole thing almost really felt like some kind of fairy tale.

So here you were again, living in a small piece of your own world as you wandered the halls of the estate in the late hour, technically past your shift.

The rain pitter pattered against the window as you traveled with a laundry basket in hand, your last chore for the day. It had taken a while to dry thanks to the damp weather, and even though you were technically due to be off you wanted to have this finished before retiring for the evening.

Just needed to drop it off in front of Sans' room and away you'd g-

"mrow?"

You inhaled quickly at the sound, jumping a bit before turning back to look down the hall at a familiar white cat in the distance.

"Oh stars above, it's just you Doomy," you breathed out, placing a hand to your chest.

The cat meowed again as it trotted closer to you, so you carefully set down the laundry basket to scoop up the white cat in your arms.

"You scared the hell out of me! Didn't Papyrus ever teach you it's bad manners to sneak up on others you silly little cat?" you whispered softly as she purred in your arms.

Oh you could never stay mad at Doomfanger for too long.

She was just too cute, and always liked to keep you company on nights like this when Papyrus had to attend to business in town. Certainly made you feel a lot less lonely, even though you knew someone else was technically in this house too-

CREAK.

You froze again, hearing nothing but silence until the floors creak again underneath someone's footstep.

Then another.

And another.

Closer and closer.

......

Alright well you were armed with nothing but your two fists, some laundry and a cat, but Papyrus had left the whole estate in your care tonight and you would be damned before you disappointed him!

So, you turned confidently to face whoever was stalking these halls before being met with...

"...Sans?"

You're not exactly sure what compelled you to call out his name, considering whoever you were looking at had a blanket covering their shoulders and head, but apparently your guess was right as he froze on the spot.

"...Jeez, both you and Doomfanger are apparently determined to scare me out of my wits tonight," you finally sighed, letting the cat go as she gracefully landed and sauntered her way over to Sans before rubbing up on to his leg.

He still seemed frozen in place, his head tilted ever so slightly in your direction but the blanket he wore over his head still casted him into shadows thanks to the dim lighting of the halls. The only thing you could properly see were a pair of eyelights burrowing into you, one red and one white.

"Is.. everything ok?" you asked, picking up the laundry basket and carefully approaching closer.

Clearly it wasn't considering he was out of his room when you were here but...

"....left.."

"Huh?" you asked, still trying to at least keep some respectable distance between you both but also taking a step in to catch what he was saying.

"i...i-i thought you.. already.. so i......... snack..."

He was fumbling with his words, seeming to shrink in a bit on himself almost in fear or some kind of embarrassment.

"Oh! No, sorry!" you explained with a quick wave of your hand. "I just had this last load to finish but it took forever to dry so I stuck around a little longer to get it done!"

You did your best to smile warmly at him, which you hoped would ease a bit of the tension he was holding, but it didn't.

Instead he became... really...

Red.

Very, very red in fact.

So much so that it actually lit up his face, and for once you could actually see him as he stared back at you, seeming transfixed upon your features. There were harsh cracks and scratches splintered over his face, and just the faintest hint of gold where a tooth would have been.

"...Huh.."

Your words seemed to snap him out of whatever kind of trance he was in and he quickly covered his face with a clawed hand.

"n-no! this...! i.. didn't...! mean to... scare..."

He seemed to be scrambling for words again, but you were still dazzled by what you just saw, unable to keep the sparkle down in your own eyes.

"You've...."

He continued to cover his face with his other hand.

"......got some crumbs on your face."

.............

He carefully peeked at you between his claws, that red eyelight of his slightly enlarged and looking.. incredibly confused.

"Here," you said, tapping your own cheek.

Sans seemed to pause again, carefully removing once of his hands to rather quickly wipe his face.

"Nope, other one!" you giggled, unable to resist the smile climbing over your face once again.

Another attempt and another miss.

You could feel his eyelight bore into you some more when you laughed a bit more loudly this time, shaking your head and setting down the laundry basket once more.

"Oh my gosh, just..! C'mere!" you finally said, taking a few more steps while pulling a handkerchief out of your pocket.

He stared again for a few more moments, hesitating only slightly before carefully bending down to your level and slowly moving his hands from his face.

You lightly placed a hand on one of his rather tense cheeks before gently wiping the other, making note of the kind of crumbs he still had clinging to his face thanks to the red glow that still illuminated his cheekbones.

Slowly you felt the tension he held melt away and soon enough it felt like he was resting his head in the palm of his hand while a gentle rumbling noise made itself present to your ears.

"....Did you eat the last of the cookies?" you asked, glancing back up him only to see him quickly look away from you.

".........maybe," he said softly, letting out a small gruff laugh.

"Ooooh, Papyrus is going to have an absolute fit when he gets back," you snickered.

"...yeah i know..s'fine," he mumbled softly. "..just gonna blame it on you."

"Hey!!"

"...or doomfanger.."

"Oh my stars, do not blame the cat you goober!"

"what? i'm pretty sure you'd both get in less trouble than i would!"

"That's not the point you jerk, haha!"

"..heh.."

Yeah.. this... really was quite the peculiar job, wasn't it?

Strangely though, you liked it.

A lot.

Especially now that you got to see just how cute the skeleton beyond the door really was.

check out my other writings | feel free to drop me a ko-fi!

#why did this become so long?#because i just love setting up a premise and building a world for a story #I CANNOT HELP MYSELF OK #so please take this drabble #of our beastly king and his hard working beauty #he shy ok #beast!sans #underfell #underfell sans #sans x reader #reader insert #drabble #swaparoo!au #alch!writes

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classysassy9791 · 4 years ago

Text

Fandom: Inuyasha Genre: Romance/Humor/Fluff Pairing: InuKag Rating: T

Originally written for @inukag-week on tumblr circa 2016, now officially being updated. Its been a hot minute, hasn't it?

For InuKag Week - Day 2: Warmth

Part 1 l

Part 2 Word Count: 2,600

Can also be found on FFN and AO3.

Kagome couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard.

Sometime between the moment she met the arrogant, rude man known as Inuyasha and the three shots she had consumed, they had fallen into a flirtatious banter that she rather enjoyed. Gone was the pompous jerk who had so rudely called her audacious names, replaced by a man who proved to actually be decent company.

No, she hadn't forgotten about their initial meeting, but as she downed another shot of whiskey, she realized she didn't much care. For the first time in months - maybe longer - Kagome found herself enjoying her evening. With her shackles removed and her inhibitions lowered, she relished in the sweet taste of freedom that had been sorely lacking from her life.

"You did not!" she squealed with absurdity in her tone, clamping a hand over her mouth.

Inuyasha chuckled, tilting his glass and giving a half-shrug. "I did," he confessed sheepishly, but not at all ashamed of his actions. "Miroku ran down the dorm hall, completely naked, screaming after me."

Kagome shook her head. "I can honestly say I have never stolen my roommates clothes while they were in the shower. Or pulled any pranks on them, really."

"To be fair," he continued, signaling the bartender for another round. "He actually met his girlfriend that way."

"By running naked down the hallway?"

He nodded. "Knocked her down and stopped to apologize."

"Still want to leave the tab open?" Kouga interrupted.

"Yeah, that's fine." Inuyasha finished off his beer. "Another round of whiskey shots while you're at it."

Flashing Kagome a smile, Kouga took their empty glasses. "You're going to dry me out."

"It's still early," Kagome barbed playfully. "Your bar will last until midnight at the very least."

He chuckled, filling up their shot glasses and handing them another drink. "Oh, thanks. I was afraid I'd have to close up soon."

Leaving with a, "flag me down if you need me," Kouga wandered to the other end of the bar where a busty blonde waved at him.

Typical, Kagome thought sourly. On the one hand, she didn't like the way her thoughts were turning, considering she didn't really know Kouga, and hated grouping him in with the rest of the spineless male population she had become accustomed to - especially since he was a bartender and it was literally his job to tend to the needs of his customers. But on the other hand, she couldn't help but feel bitter about his attention leaving her. Maybe it was because she had so blatantly been deprived of it for so long, that her longing for companionship had been exacerbated ten-fold.

Taking a sip of beer - which she had switched to once they started doing shots - Kagome heard her phone buzz in her purse again; it had already gone off several times during her conversation with Inuyasha. She finally pulled it out and unlocked it, frowning at the array of messages popping up on her screen.

Inuyasha raised a brow at the irritable look that overcame her expression before Kagome sighed and locked her phone. She quickly downed her shot of whiskey, not even bothering to 'cheers' him.

"Everything okay?" Inuyasha questioned, against his better judgement. There was a reason people showed up by themselves at a bar on Friday nights - either to drown their sorrows in whiskey or to find company for a few fleeting, midnight hours.

Kagome pressed her lips together. She didn't come to the bar to talk about her problems. She wasn't some sad case that needed a therapist to pour her drinks. If anything, she wanted to forget about the emotional damage that had been inflicted earlier that day. Her heart had been broken, her ego bruised, and no matter how many times her friends had told her he wasn't worth it, their sympathies didn't make her feel any better.

But, alcohol had a funny habit of turning into truth serum, and she found herself spilling her guts before she could stop herself. "Just my ex-boyfriend - er, fiance - blowing up my phone."

Inuyasha chuckled. "Can't take a hint, huh?"

Kagome shrugged with a bitter smile. "I mean, he broke off the engagement. Not sure why he can't follow through with his decision."

She had expected sympathy, perhaps even empathy. That's what most people offered in a situation like this, when they didn't know what to say or how to react. But Kagome was caught off-guard by Inuyasha's next question.

"How long were you together?"

Kagome eyed him curiously, his honey gaze hiding a wealth of understanding. "Five years," she answered him, twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger. "Planned our life together, put a ring on it, and even booked the venue. But… I suppose he got cold feet a long time ago."

"His loss. What kind of bastard would put someone through that?"

She hummed thoughtfully, but didn't answer. It wasn't in her best interest to start talking about the past now, and she would rather take the spotlight off of herself all together. "What about you?" she asked her barstool companion as she took another sip of beer. "Any lucky ladies in your life?"

Inuyasha chuckled mirthlessly. "Nah, not anymore."

Kagome arched a brow. "Dare I ask?"

"Not much to tell. Her career and ambitions drove a wedge between us, and she decided they were more important than me. Simple as that."

"Sounds high maintenance."

He grinned. "Something like that. I mean, she knew what she wanted and didn't care what stood in her way. Even me."

Kagome felt an ache beneath her breast for the man beside her. She knew the pain of rejection very well. "Put out in the rain just like a dog. Doesn't that bother you?" she asked, tilting her head.

He frowned at her choice of words, and Kagome knew she may have touched a nerve then, but the alcohol had stripped her of her filter apparently.

"Well, I guess we're all damaged somehow," he replied with a shrug.

She scrunched her nose. "That's a bit thoughtless."

"What can I say? Shit happens. Get over it."

And then Kagome suddenly remembered the arrogant, rude, condescending jerk she had met when she had sat down at the bar earlier in the night. She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you such an ass?"

Inuyasha smirked while bringing his beer to his lips. "You are what you eat?"

Kagome let loose a growl of frustration. She had only known him for a short time, but she had quickly learned that Inuyasha was the most infuriating human being on the planet! "Your immaturity is revolting," she stated matter-of-factly, waving down Kouga for another shot of whiskey. She was definitely not drunk enough to deal with the way the conversation had turned.

"I'm not known for my friendly disposition."

Kagome glared at the man sitting next to her. "Is it fun being a jerk to me? Does it satisfy you?"

Inuyasha chuckled. "Actually, it is pretty entertaining."

She rolled her eyes. "You know, Inuyasha. You can hide behind that fake bravado all you want, but I know you're just a big softie underneath."

"Keh," he grumbled, finishing off his beer.

Kagome threw him a glare. "What? No witty repartee?"

He set down his empty glass with a little more force than usual, grabbing Kagome's attention. "I know your type, wench," he snapped, his amber eyes boring into hers. "I know exactly the kind of person you are; all high and mighty, acting as if you're better than everyone else. You think you can show someone how great life can be and how fantastic it is if I would just try. Well, sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but not everyone is worth saving, all right?"

His words left Kagome stunned into silence for a brief moment. How did their witty banter only a few minutes ago turn into this? This… This denied anger and unadulterated cynicism had Kagome reeling, her thoughts turning to what exactly had penetrated Inuyasha's life so completely that he had such a negative outlook on such.

She pursed her lips. "How much do you think you're worth?"

Inuyasha shrugged. "Like twenty bucks. Or two twinkies." He grinned at his own comment, but Kagome didn't find it very funny.

If anything, Kagome felt pity for him. No matter how bleak her life became, she always managed to find the good in it. If a person couldn't do that… Well, that was a pretty sad way to live. "As much as I would love to hear you divulge all of your secrets, this is a great song and I feel like dancing."

"Look, wench," Inuyasha barked out, his anger palpable. "I'm not looking for your validation. I'm pretty fucking happy with my life of dirty pennies and whiskey bottles. We don't all need to be Barbie."

She looked over at him, the low dim of the bar lights shining off his silver hair, and found she could only nurse one wounded heart at a time. "I just wanted you to leave tonight and think the world is a little less horrible than you thought."

"Hey, pretty lady," Kouga greeted as he appeared at the perfect time with another shot of whiskey for her and a full beer, stealing her full attention away from Inuyasha.

Kagome immediately downed the shot and chased it with her beer, ready to forget half of the night and lose herself in the music pounding through the speakers. As the evening wore on, the bar became busier, and the DJ had started up a round of tunes that had half the customers on the dance floor.

Kouga watched her curiously, arching a brow. "You alright there?"

"Dance with me?" she called over the bass pounding through the speakers. Oh yes, it was now the time of the night in which she had no qualms for asking for what she wanted.

He chuckled and glanced over at the other bartenders who appeared to have things under control. "You can steal me for a few minutes."

Kagome grinned and giggled like a school girl, leaving Inuyasha behind without delay. Kouga met her at the end of the bar and took her hand in his as she pulled him out onto the dance floor.

Some upbeat dance music blasted through the speakers. Kagome moved and swayed through the bodies crowding near the DJ, the vibrations of the music becoming part of her energy, raising her up several levels at once. Gone were her heartbroken wallows and the biting arrogance of her barstool companion. Her mind buzzed with pure joy. She moved in her dress like her hips were made to sway, the black sequins catching the disco ball that twirled above, causing her to glitter on the dance floor.

Kouga pulled her close, his strong hand pressed against the small of her back, his chiseled chest pressed against hers. She ran her fingers through her messy hair and pulled it to the side, feeling the beat of the music pound with each beat of her heart. Bodies pressed in tighter all around them. Kagome felt the part of her that was really her come out to play, to feel the vibe of the music and let her body go free.

"You're beautiful," Kouga's voice whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

His lips looked soft and very kissable, and Kagome knew her decision-making skills were indeed hindered by the alcohol that buzzed through her veins. And then his attention was caught by something else, his royal blue eyes pulling from hers to the outskirts of the dance floor. He said something to her, attempting to shout above the music, but his words were swallowed up by the electric beat that kept her entranced.

Kagome felt his hands slip from around her waist and he disappeared into the crowd. She didn't bother to follow, her hands playing with her hair, her hips moving to the music as she lost herself within it. This was what her heartbroken soul had fiercely needed; a night to forget all the troubles of the day.

Large, meaty hands found her waist, but they were unfamiliar and too warm to the touch. Kagome felt a warm flush find her cheeks as she gazed up to meet a stranger's hazy stare. He pulled her in close - too close - and even in her alcohol-ridden mind, she felt mild panic begin like sparks in her abdomen.

She tried to push him away, first gently and then forcefully, pretending to laugh at his behavior. "Thanks for the dance, but I need some fresh air."

"C'me on, baby," he slurred, pulling her tighter to his sweaty frame, his hot breath rolling over her skin. "We just met. Let's dance s'me more."

Kagome frowned. "I said no." Before she could stomp on his foot and fight her way out of the throng of dancers, the man was forcefully pulled away from her. They became separated by another man, one with very familiar silver hair who had his back to her. She didn't hear the words exchanged, but whatever was said was enough to send the man scampering off to the other side of the bar.

Inuyasha turned around, his piercing honey eyes studying her expression, before his hand gently wrapped around her waist. His grip on her wasn't strong like Kouga's, or possessive like the stranger. Inuyasha's hand was warm against the small of her back, and the anxiety she felt moments ago melted away.

"You okay?" he asked, swaying his hips in tune with hers as they continued to dance to the beat of the music.

She grinned up at him. "Were you worried about me, jerk?"

"Keh," he grumbled, his lips pulling into a smirk. "I despise you more than any other human I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. You're loud and wild and apparently have no sense of self-preservation. You also act like you have the mental capacity of a five year old."

"Are you flirting with me?" she barbed in return.

"Maybe."

His hand found the back of her neck, his fingers finding purchase in her hair, his hips grinding against hers. Warmth pooled into the pit of her stomach, his breath caressing her skin, and she moved her lips to find his.

Kagome barely had a moment to react before he pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips and delved inside her mouth. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of beer being exchanged between their billowing breaths. Her arm reached up and tangled around his strong neck. She pulled away and arched up into his broad chest, letting a moan escape in the contact of body heat against her own, before she drew back into his lips.

She could nearly taste the slight bitterness of the beer as it rolled off her tongue and seeped down her throat with every push of his tongue against hers. The kiss coupled with the beer and whiskey humming through her system obliterated every thought. For the first time that day, her mind was locked into the present. Her usual concerns for her life were suspended, and she had no wish for the kiss to end.

But as the music changed, they pulled apart. Inuyasha's skin shimmered with sweat and his amber eyes flecked with gold held her gaze. The beat of the music consumed them under the crazy neon lights, and Kagome felt alive during a night that was still so young.

#inuyasha #kagome #inukag #fanfiction #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag-week #sassy stays classy #my fanfiction #double shot of heaven

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