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ladyblogger-margie · 4 years ago

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Permit Pending - Part 2

Pairing: Will Miller (Triple Frontier) x F!Reader

Summary: Will takes you to one of Benny’s fights as an unconventional first date.

Word Count: 4898

Warnings: 18+ (Language, canon typical violence, fingering,, oral F!receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up, people!), creampie, PinV penetration) Tom shows up, but not for long because he sucks.

a/n: Thanks for reading! I can’t seem to stop thinking and writing about Will Miller, so thanks for coming on this journey with me, please enjoy my attempt at smut.

Series Master List

First Date

You’re at work Friday morning talking comfortably with your coworkers since your boss is out of the office for the day, the rest of you are taking advantage. You wandered off to the cafe next door for your caffeine hit and now you’re counting down the hours until your date that night with the incredibly sexy Will Miller. He wasn’t much of a texter, but he has called you twice since he asked you out on Tuesday. You thought it was sweet.

You weren’t really listening to your coworker prattle on about whatever it was she was complaining about today - you thought it was something about someone parking in her space again. Your thoughts were instead planning your post-work, pre-date prep you were going to do in a few hours. Will had organized a classic first date and you were really excited. He was going to pick you up at your place, and take you for dinner and drinks at a small but classy restaurant you’ve never tried but always wanted to. You had the perfect first date outfit waiting for you back home and you were mentally sorting through your shoe options when your phone rang.

You excused yourself from the others and took the call in your boss’ currently vacant office. You smiled when you saw the caller ID. “Hey there,” you said when you answered.

Will’s voice came through the other end warm and smooth as always, but there was a hesitation there you noticed when he said, “Hello, is this a good time?”

“Yes, what’s up?”

“Please don’t be upset, but I have to reschedule tonight,” he spilled out. You could hear the stress in his voice.

“What happened, are you okay?” you asked, concerned.

“I’m fine, I’d really rather not have to do this, but Benny booked a fight tonight and it’s a chance for him to get out of this amaterur league and somewhere a bit more respectable,” Will sighed after he explained.

“And you don’t want me to come?”

Will paused on the phone. He looked over his shoulder where Benny was eating lunch. And he considered your words. He would love for you to come, any chance to spend time with you of course. But he wasn’t sure if he was ready for you to see the grittier part of his life. Benny’s fights weren’t glamorous and the crowds crude at best. Plus he didn’t want to overwhelm you with meeting his brother and his friends that were essentially brothers too all at once on a first date.

“You’d want to come to a low tier fight, hang out with my brother and friends, instead of a romantic candlelight dinner?” he asked to gage your reaction.

“If you want me there, I'd absolutely like to come. Isn’t the whole point of a first date to get to know each other, this seems like a great way to get to know you,” you said plainly, deciding honesty was probably the best policy with a guy like Will.

“I’ll pick you up at 6!” Will said with excitement.

You smiled and agreed before hanging up the phone. You returned to where your coworker sat and when they started talking again you tuned them out and sipped your artisan coffee that was starting to go cold while you started from scratch on an outfit idea for a fight night to replace the one previously planned.

At 17:45 Will parked up the street, out of sight,of your apartment. He was frankly too excited. It took all of his self control to only be 15 minutes early to pick you up. He wanted to be on time and normal and not reveal just how eager he was to see you. He really liked the phone calls you’ve already had and meeting you has been a real joy in his life, a welcome change to his usual routine.

At 5:50pm you paced around your apartment stopping occasionally to double check your appearance in the mirror. You’ve changed 5 times already since you got home from work before settling on the simple outfit you currently wore. It complimented your body in all the right ways, but it appeared casual enough for the event. It seemed like the obvious choice; you're not sure why it took you 5 tries to get there, but here you were.

Unable to wait any longer, Will knocked on your front door at 17:55, fully expecting to have to wait for you to finish getting ready. To his surprise you answered just a second after he dropped his hand from your door. You looked genuinely happy to see him and his heart fluttered in his chest. He quickly checked you out, trying to stay respectful, but you looked so beautiful and so sexy he felt his pants tighten a bit at the sight of you.

“You look -” he was at a loss for words, “You look beautiful”.

You felt something warm clench deep within you at his words. He looked great too, he wore jeans that hugged his thighs and ass just right with a simple button up shirt he had rolled to his elbows exposing his Delta Force tattoo.

“You look pretty great yourself,” you replied jumping out the front door and locking it behind you. He put his hand on your lower back as he guided you towards his truck parked out front. Your skin felt hot under his touch and your pulse quickened.

He held the passenger door open for you as you hopped into the truck and watched him walk around the front and get in beside you. The cab was filled with the smell of his cologne and you found it intoxicating. The date had barely started and already you felt yourself yearning for the chance to reach across the center console and touch him.

Will started the truck and looked over at you. He got lost in your eyes and had never felt luckier than he did in that moment. He put the truck in drive and felt bold. He reached across the console and gently laid his hand on your knee. He wasn’t sure what the rest of the night would bring, or if you’d want to go out with him again after tonight, so he figured he better not waste a moment.

You arrived at a high school gym where the event was taking place - it certainly was not what you expected for a grown man’s fight night, but the music was blaring and the crowd sounded enthusiastic.

Will stopped you by the side of the truck, “I’ve gotta go back with Benny, would you mind if I left you with my friend, Fish? He’s good people.”

You laughed, “Fish?”

“It’s a nickname, I’ll let him explain,” Will said, looking around.

“Not a problem, where is he?” you replied, at this point just in for the ride of where this night would take you.

“I don’t see him yet, which means I probably have time for this,” he whispered as he gently touched his hand to your hip.

Your breath hitched in your chest as he looked into your eyes. You felt yourself lean towards him without really thinking about it. He gently brushed his lips against yours and you felt your heart beat clean out of your chest. You reached your hand to his chest gently as he brushed a thumb against your hip and his moustache tickled your lip and made you smile and deepen the kiss.

“Are we interrupting?” Came a voice from behind you which absolutely was interpreting, you were only getting started. You heard a gentle whack from behind you then the same voice saying, “What was that for?”

Will pulled back, breaking the kiss but he kept his hand resting on your hip and you both turned to face Frankie Morales and his pregnant wife Maria. Will made the introductions and you take an immediate liking to the pair.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband,” Maria said, “He likes to poke fun. Also he’s not very patient and we’ve been dying to meet the girl Will told us about.”

You push your shoulder gently into Will’s chest, “You’ve been talking about me?”

“No,” Will said too quickly, “I just said I was bringing a date.”

“Which for Will is like getting a megaphone and standing on a rooftop,” Frankie teased.

Will flushed, “I have to see Benny, I’m already late,” and he gave you a scratchy kiss on the check - which you really liked - and left you behind with your new friends.

“So,” you said turning to the floppy haired man, “your name is ‘Fish’?”

Before he can explain the meaning you're joined by a tall, dominating figure with a dark expression and a full beard. Frankie hugs the man and then introduces you to him. He shakes your hand firmly. “Tom, nice to meet you,” he says quickly before turning back to Frankie.

Maria links her arm with yours. “Let’s grab a beer,” she says, leading you inside to the bar, “I may be pregnant but I can still be a bad influence.”

You grab a beer and chat easily with Maria. She shares that she is just three months pregnant so they’ve only just started to tell people the big news. You can tell she is so happy, it’s hard not to be excited with her. She urges you through your first beer much quicker than you intend and insists on buying your second and she grabs a round for Frankie and Tom.

You meet the boys at some uncomfortable chairs placed near what will become Benny’s corner. Frankie greets his wife with a deep kiss that is mostly sweet, but does create some awkward silence between you and Tom.

“Are they always like this?” you ask him in an attempt to break the awkwardness.

“I don’t blame them,” he replied curtly.

The empty silence hung between you and without a better idea, you took a long swig from your beer.

Just then, thankfully, the music changed and the announcer announced Benny’s entrance. You and your group roared and cheered as loud as you could. Tom may be a bit standoffish but he clearly was a big supporter of Benny so you had to give him credit there, even if he clearly had no manners.

During the fight you clung to Maria’s hand and cheered and groaned along with her as Benny took a pretty serious beating. You watched Will from Benny’s corner and ached to be close to him. He seemed so anxious for his brother and it melted your heart to see his passion and protective instincts on full display. Though the violence of it all seemed really intense and not to your typical taste, you had a great time. Tom cheered the loudest when Benny was called the winner and danced around the ring celebrating.

That’s how you found yourself sandwiched in a booth at a dive bar between Will and the wall. He was pressed hard into you by an overly enthusiastic Benny on his other side. Tom left early, something about an early open house or something the next morning, so it was just the five of you.

“Have you heard from Pope lately?” Benny asked Frankie.

Frankie’s eyes grew dark and Maria patted his arm. “No, not for a while now,” Frankie said, and a silence fell over the table.

“He’ll be fine, he’ll reach out when he’s ready,” Will said.

Benny knocked his glass to his brother’s, “You’re damn right.”

Frankie still looked sad, so you changed the subject, “I think we need another round, move boys, this one’s on me.”

You gently pushed Will and he and Benny shoved out of the booth to let you pass. You stood up and Will pressed a kiss to your lips as you passed which earned a wolf-whistle from Benny and an “Aw” from Maria and Frankie.

You got to the bar and ordered another pitcher. You were smiling so hard your face hurt. Without question this had been one of the best first dates ever, even better than you could have hoped for.

Or at least it was until the Worst Man in the World made it his new life’s mission to ruin your good mood. You were leaning against the bar waiting for your pitcher when he sauntered up to you and put a greasy palm straight on your ass and whispered, “I bet these jeans would look even better on my bedroom floor,” into your ear with stale breath. You pulled away from him and he grabbed your arm to keep you close.

“I’m not interested,” you said, coolly.

“Come on baby, at least come for a spin with me,” he slurred at you, his grip on your arm getting painfully tight.

Will sat at the table laughing at Maria’s impersonation of Fish talking in his sleep. He went to take another drink of his beer only to realize it was empty. He looked around the bar trying to find you, frankly more bothered by your absence than that of the beer.

He hadn’t felt like this for such a long time. He thought back to your first kiss which came so early in the evening and knew he found someone special, someone worth knowing. He was putting himself out there, and he promised himself he wouldn’t do anything to scare you off, he’d do everything he could to make sure you always looked at him the way you did when he kissed you.

He looked around Benny’s flailing arms as he told some story making fun of Fish he’s told several times before when he saw a man at the bar grab your arm and you pull away, trapped. Something in him snapped and a red-hot anger surged through his body.

He pushes Benny out of the booth and hastens to your side, stepping between you and the stranger. “Do we have a problem here?” he asked, gruffly.

The guy let’s go of your arm much to your relief, but he doesn’t back up. “Nope, we’re all good here, you can keep moving,” the man slurred.

“Come on, Will, let’s go,” you said, pulling his hand, “The beer’s here, help me carry it.”

Will gave the drunk man an absolute death glare. You tug on his hand again, “Come on, I’m thirsty,” you said, pleading gently.

Will turns and sees your pleading eyes and he softens. He grabs the pitcher and follows you back to the table. Benny slides into the corner to make room for you both.

You try to tune back into the conversation, but you’re distracted by the set of Will’s jaw and the tension radiating off of him. You nurse your beer and aren’t sure how the pitcher drains so quickly when neither you, nor Will, nor Maria are indulging yourselves much.

When the pitcher is nearly drained, Will leans over and whispers in your ear, “Are you ready, I’ll take you home.”

You nodded and he took your hand and stood up. You turned back to the table, “It was really great to meet you guys.”

Maria stands and gives you a hug, “Our pleasure, see you soon,” she said.

Frankie shakes your hand and Benny gives you a bear hug before Will leads you out of the bar and to the truck.

You step outside and the cold breeze sends a shiver through you. Will notices and when he opens your door for you, he pulls a zip up sweater from the back and drapes it over your shoulders. You inhale deeply catching his scent trapped in the fabric feeling warm.

Will is completely silent as he wraps you up and gets you settled in your seat. He drives in silence also, keeping his hands to himself this time. You sneak glances his direction and notice he white knuckles the steering wheel and grinds his jaw as he drives. He pulls up in front of your building and turns off the truck.

“I had a nice time tonight, thanks for bringing me,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Are you okay?” he asks, not looking at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Your arm, did he hurt you?” he asked, strained.

“No, I’m fine, I’ve dealt with worse,” you shrug.

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry,” was all he said.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Right,” he trails off.

“Hey, look at me,” you demand.

He doesn’t so you reach across the console and grab his hand, “I had a great time, don’t let that guy ruin what was a perfect date.”

He looks at you with his sad, blue eyes. “Really, perfect, huh?”

You smile, “Yes. I like your friends, Maria and I are going to have lunch next week,” you said plainly. “Maybe we could double date with her and Frankie sometime,” you suggest.

He smiles back, “Double date? You’re going to see me again?”

“I’d like to.”

He lifts his hand to your cheek and gently brushes his thumb across your cheekbone.

“Let me walk you to your door.”

You close your eyes and lean your head into his hand before he drops it to get out. You lead him to your front door with his hand on your lower back.

You stop at your door and hold your keys in your hand, hesitating.

“I owe you a makeup first date,” he says.

“I said I liked our first date, trust me, I meant it,” you said looking up at him.

“Okay, then let me take you on a second - are you free tomorrow night?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you couldn’t contain the eagerness in your voice.

He brings his hands to your hips and looks deep into your eyes and you just can’t help yourself. You put your hands on his chest and push your lips to his. He is a little surprised, but he smiles into your lips and the grip on your hips gets a little tighter as he pulls you in close.

You open your mouth slightly to sigh into him as you grab a handful of his shirt in your hands and pull him closer to your body. He rubs his thumbs across your hip bones and runs his tongue gently across your lips, his hot breath sending tingles through your whole body.

You jump when your neighbour opens their door and breaks your kiss.

“Excuse me,” they say as they slip past you two.

You drop your head to Will’s chest with a laugh and he wraps his arms around you for a tight hug. He kisses the top of your head.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow for dinner,” he said, reluctantly, pulling away.

You sneak another gentle kiss to his lips before you say, “I can’t wait.”

Saturday comes as it always does, but today you have a date. Plus you have an idea, a bold, lustful idea. You search through your drawers and at the very bottom you find the lingerie set you bought a little while ago and have yet to have the opportunity to debut. You were the first to admit you often bought clothes and trinkets online you didn’t need without a real purpose, but the habit paid off enough times to enable your impulses.

Instead of returning to the date outfit idea you had on Friday, you instead dressed in the lingerie set and pulled over it the sweater Will never took back from you last night. You left it unzipped, draping over your scantily clad body. You hoped Will would be onboard with your new plan for your second date, and wouldn’t mind skipping the restaurant again.

Will pulled up in front of your place determined not to show you his dark side again tonight. He let some of it slip out last night and it scared him, embarrassed him. You were so kind, so gentle, he knew you could never be with someone with his temperament so he had to be careful, continue his repression coping mechanisms and hope he can maintain control long enough to earn your affection.

He checked his watch and even though he was exactly 12 minutes early he couldn’t wait a second longer to see you and walked up to your door. He knocked and when you opened the door his jaw dropped and without even a hello, he crashed his lips into yours.

You felt Will’s breath hot and warm on your skin as he traced his lips down your jaw. You opened the door and before you could even say hello you saw Will lick his lips before he wrapped you in his arms and kissed you deeply. You were thrilled to get the exact reaction you had planned.

He pulled his lips from yours and looked into your eyes, “Hey.”

“Hello,” you said before you kissed him quickly, “I thought we’d stay in tonight.”

Will’s eyes flashed with lust as he picked you up by your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. He pushed his lips against yours as he held you close. When he broke the kiss he said, “Are you sure? I’m happy to take you out; I want to.”

“I know, and you're so sweet,” you kissed him, “But I don’t need anything fancy, I just want you.”

He walked you over to the couch and you kept your legs clamped tight around his waist and he kissed you so earnestly your chest welled.

He sat gently on the couch and held you by your hips as you sat in his lap. You nibbled on his lower lip before you gently pushed your tongue in his mouth with a sigh.

You dropped your hands to his shirt and worked your way down his buttons and pushed it off his hulking shoulders. You groaned at the sight of his rippling chest and ran your fingers over the hard muscles there. He shivered under your touch and you felt his erection through his jeans twitch.

“We don’t have to go any farther if you don’t want to,” Will said breathless

“You’re sweet William Miller,” you slipped his sweater off, “But I don’t wanna stop. I want you to fuck me.”

His hands trail up the sides of your body and up to your chest and he pulls down your bra to reveal your breasts. He peppers them with soft kisses before he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks gently.

You drop your head back and moan. You grab a handful of his short hair at the base of his neck and pull gently as he slips a hand to your thigh and traces simple patterns on your sensitive skin. You rock your hips against his, craving friction.

He runs his finger along the edge of your panties teasing you slowly. “Bedroom?” he asked.

He locked eyes with him and saw his crystal blue ones hungry for you, his pupils blown wide. You slipped off his lap and led the way down the hall to your modest bedroom.

He held your hand and watched you walk ahead of him. He watched your ass as you walked and felt his erection hard against his leg trapped in his pants. When you stopped at the foot of your bed and turned to face him he took your face in his hands. He looked at you and said what he felt, unable and unwilling to stop himself; “You’re so beautiful.”

He ran his fingers down your shoulder and helped you step out of your lingerie, trailing gentle kisses down your body. He felt you tremble under his lips and it made him feel warm all over.

He was down on his knees as he looked up at you, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, “Please touch me.”

He gently ran one finger through your wet folds, and he groaned needy when he felt how wet you already were for him. He slipped one finger into your entrance and traced his lips across the skin of your hips. He removed his finger and brought it to his lips to taste you and you tasted so good. He was overcome with desire as he led you to the end of your bed and sat you down.

You shimmied to the head of your bed, watching Will follow and crawl up your body. He had pushed his jeans down his legs leaving him naked except his briefs. You saw his bulge through the thin fabric and gulped, he was big you could tell and you were desperate to touch him.

Your thoughts immediately went blank when he pressed his lips to your clit and sucked gently. You gasped and bucked your hips into his mouth.

“Did that feel good, sweetie?” he asked with a sly grin.

“Yea- Yeah,” you whimpered.

“Good, I want you to feel good,” he said before he buried himself between your thighs. He thrust two fingers inside of you and brushed that sweet spot inside you as he sucked and licked your clit expertly. He was gentle and took his time. You moaned his name and gripped the sheets as you reached your peak.

“I’m - I’m gonna cum,” you gasped and he sucked your clit and pumped his fingers into you. You came hard on his face and your hands grabbed tufts of his short hair as you pushed his head into your heat as he lapped up everything you gave him.

You fell back on the pillows gasping, your walls fluttering around his fingers as he pulled them from you. You watched as he licked his lips, cleaning up your mess. He had some of your wet in his beard and the sight was incredibly sexy.

You reached for him and pulled him into a kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips and feel his smile. You didn’t break the kiss as you tried to shove his underwear down, but struggled, which caused you both to chuckle.

“Let me help you with that,” he stands and pulls his own underwear off and tosses them off the side of the bed. He pauses, “I left a condom in my truck -”

“Don’t worry, I’m safe,” you said, “I have an implant and I’ve been tested since the last time -” you leave the rest unsaid.

“Me too, are you sure?” he asks and you nod eagerly, reaching up to pull him down to you

He crawls on top of you, and traces his finger across your hip and caresses your ass as he lifts your leg around his waist.

“This was a much better idea than dinner,” he said as his blue eyes met yours and you could see the sincerity in his eyes and your heart fluttered. You reached between you to grip his penis in your hand and guide him to your entrance.

“Make love to me,” you plead.

He nearly cums from that alone, but he holds on. He pushes into you slowly, feeling your wet pussy stretch around his dripping cock. He rests his weight on his forearms and hovers above you as he thrusts in and out of you. He is completely lost in you as you meet his gaze and run your fingers up his arms and across his chest.

You lift your leg and he props it over his shoulder, his thrusts deeper with the new angle and you see stars. Still supporting most of his weight off you, he shifts to free one hand and rubs your clit to match his thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, breaking eye contact and dropping your head back in complete bliss.

“Cum again for me, sweetie,” he whispers in your ear before he nips at your exposed throat.

Your orgasm crashes over you and you flutter around his cock. You moan his name and he cums with a gentle grunt. He pulls out of your sensitive cunt and you feel his cum start to drip out of you.

He flops down on the bed beside you and pulls you close into his chest, both of you panting spent and satisfied.

You stay there, with his arms around you as you trace mindless trails across the skin on his sweat slicked chest, until your tummy grumbles with hunger. You laugh, “Sorry, I don’t usually skip dinner.”

He kisses the top of your head, “I’m not off to a great start, amateaur fighting, and skipping dinner, not exactly the most romantic start to a relationship.”

“Relationship?” You teased.

Will clammed up you felt him tense beneath you. You raise yourself up to look him in the eyes, “I like the sound of that.”

He pulls you in for a kiss and your tummy grumbles again.

“I’m going to feed you, I swear. I just need a minute, then we can get dressed. We might still make our reservation,” he said, pulling away from you.

“Or, we could order a pizza and you could stay naked,” you suggested, pulling him back down.

He smiles at you, “Only if you promise not to get dressed either, I’m not finished with you yet.” He pulls you on top of him and into a deep kiss.

You can’t help but think this was the best second date you’ve ever been on.

Part 3

#will miller #william miller #william ironhead miller #william ironhead miller x F!Reader #will miller x f!reader #triple frontier fan fiction #triple frontier fanfiction #Permit Pending Series #Permit Pending Part 2 - First Date

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eruden-writes · 4 years ago

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The Sorceress’s Orc

I was going through my Goodreads “want-to-read” list and stumbled on The Sorceress’s Orc.

I put it in that list in 2019 and totally forgot about it. So, I decided to see if I could find it.

Sadly, I could not through regular methods. The book in question no longer in print and many of the author’s other books are out of stock on Amazon. (Not sure if it’s a stocking issue or maybe the author stopped updating them? idk)

I also didn’t find The Sorceress’s Orc on Thriftbooks and the author’s pseudonym seemed most active from 2011 to 2014ish. The author’s website tied to that pseudonym is also defunct, along with a Twitter account.

Now, I’m taking the time to talk about the author and how hard it was to find this book, because I did cave and use 1lib.us to download an ePub of the book. While reading, I did some more digging and eventually came across another pseudonym the author used:

Jordan L. Hawk, an author that specializes in MLM, or men loving men, paranormal romance. And he is a trans man. (It appears he transitioned while under this pseudonym which seems newer than the previous one, so there are some articles and interviews he gave before transitioning.)

I have since joined Hawk’s Patreon to pay for the book. It’s a lower tier to give myself a few months, since I am damnedly distractable, but I intend to poke around other offerings.

Now onto the review of The Sorceress’s Orc!

First, this is the book’s summary:

Giavolo: proudest of the city-states and home to the great university, where the Magical Sciences are taught alongside more mundane studies. The city has been at war for longer than any of its inhabitants have been alive. Vervain: Mistress of the Magical Sciences, she is dismayed to find herself assigned a bodyguard after divination reveals an ill-defined threat to the university’s teachers. Even worse, the bodyguard is an orc. Riyu: Vervain’s orc bodyguard is determined to save her life—if she’ll let him. Brighthand: When this sinister figure attacks the university and kidnaps Vervain’s partner, it’s up to Vervain and Riyu to get him back...or die in the attempt. You don’t have to be a 20-something babe to save the world.

The quick and dirty rating: 4 out of 5

The summary doesn’t prepare you for how intense or action-packed the story gets. While we know Vervain is attempting to save the world, I expected the story to revolve a lot around Vervain and Riyu and entirely be based in Giavolo.

I was wrong on both accounts. Along with our Mistress of the Magical Sciences and her orc body guard, we get:

Hawthorne, Vervain’s charismatic and hard-working journeyman who acts as her student-teacher/journeyman at the University.

Amethyst, one of Vervain’s students who - while showing promise - isn’t as diligent as Vervain would like.

Tourmaline, another teacher at the University that specializes in Art and Dance. He’s a bit foppish and says things that makes Vervain roll her eyes.

Kiki, a younger orc girl from Riyu’s contingent, and the orc leader’s daughter, who strives to prove herself. She is essentially Riyu’s student, when the group goes off on their adventure.

Cardamom, a cadet from the University that... ugh. I’ll leave it at that.

We also get Jasper and Briar, but in the former’s case, his appearance is relatively short lived, and in the latter’s case, he comes in near the very end.

Of course, I can’t describe the secondary characters and neglect the primary.

Vervain is an uptight sort of professor, but not without reason. She teaches magic sciences, where a wrongly drawn circle or rune could cause awful damage. Though particular and somewhat standoffish, she’s not without a soft side. Even in her unwavering confidence, she has moments of uncertainty or outright blames herself.

Riyu is an orc who has taken up the warrior’s path, which has particular rules like not striking somewhat out of anger or being prepared to give one’s life to keep their charge safe. He’s observant and intelligent, along with strong and intimidating. Also, a bit of a hopeless romantic, but maybe that’s my interpretation. lol

For the most part, the plot was engaging without immense focus on romance. It takes you though various settings and felt believable, as far as the rigors of traveling and battle. The descriptions were just enough to give you a mental image, if necessary, but not overwrought.

I greatly enjoyed Riyu and Vervain’s interactions, especially when we start seeing the realization of romantic feelings solidify. They are built up as friends, before getting into the mushy warm feelings.

The sex scenes were not detailed or lengthy; so if that’s the mood you’re in, save this book for when you want something engaging.

The world building sprinkled in was fairly interesting, giving the universe a particular feel to it. (One such example is humans from richer lineages are named after gemstones and poorer human families tended to name their children after plants.)

The clickers, amalgamations of machine and organic material, were basically machines for the antagonists. I don’t want to give much away about them, but their descriptions were rather horrifying.

Overall, there was a lot that was very good about the book. However, there were a few pitfalls.

Firstly, the term “golem” is used to describe machines created with magic. Golems are particular to Jewish culture and non-Jewish people utilizing them can be seen as cultural appropriation.

There’s an array of discussion about this topic, but I’m not sure if such discussions were as widespread in 2011, when this book was published.

Secondly, and this is more of a personal qualm, Vervain repeatedly mentioned the fact she prematurely judged orcs - believing they were all unintelligent brutes - very frequently once she gave Riyu a chance. There were like three mentions in the same chapter. This was early in the book and it didn’t last, thankfully.

I did appreciate that Vervain acknowledged that her behavior and presumptions were unfounded - especially since she still had some missteps at interspersed moments later in the book - but I just felt it was repetitive early on.

Overall, a solid 4 out of 5, perhaps even a 4.5 out of 5 if I was prepared for a action-heavy fantasy.

I was expecting more focus on romance and sexual heat than I got, but I am not disappointed in the slightest.

#books #fantasy #orcs #Orc x Human #bookblr #book review #idk if ya'll like me reviewing books #but I wanted to share this one #especially since the author is trans and does have more options #Also I didn't use the previous pseudonym because I know my partner hates to see her dead name #idk if that's the same for dead writing pseudonyms but I was airing on the side of caution

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

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Title: Kismet {7}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing

Words: 5.1k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

-Henry-

He tossed from his right.

“This has been fun. You seem like a really good person on top of being uber-talented. I wish you nothing but continued success in your career and life, but for anything here, I don’t think it’s going to happen,”

He turned to his left.

“I don’t do drama or messy, and your situation screams drama and mess.”

He rolled from his back.

“The bottom line is I’ve broken three rules already when it comes to you, and I will not break this one.”

He flipped to his stomach.

“Goodbye, Henry.”

That was always when he leaped up, sweating, panting, and wide awake. It was always the same time. Two in the morning and he always had the same feelings. Regret. Resentment. Emptiness. He hated those words when put together. Every night for the last two days, it was the same thing. He’d go about his business, work, fulfill his obligations, meet family and friends to catch up, all the while thinking he saw you at the most inopportune times. He remembered the first time he thought he saw you. He was having lunch with his brothers, their wives, girlfriends, and nephews. In the middle of his conversation, from clear across the restaurant, he thought he saw you. The woman didn’t even look a lot like you. The only thing you shared in resemblance was the complexion of your skin and your hair color. He knew then he’d lost his mind and was acting out of character.

Usually, if he were in this situation, he would have already moved on. He never dwelled on situations that didn’t serve a purpose for him. He was straightforward and preferred those he spent his time with to be the same. If a woman didn’t seem interested and went as far as to tell him goodbye at every chance she got, he would fade away. That is what he should do; instead, he continuously thought about you.

He went back and forth in his head about where you were getting your assumptions and why were you so quick to think the worst of him. It was apparent to deduce that you probably had a bad past experience with someone to have become so standoffish. There was no way someone would give off such conflicting vibes if they hadn’t been burned before.

If he didn’t imagine you throughout his day, he was dreaming of you coming up with words he should have or could have said when you were in front of him. When he thought to call you, he always turned against it. What was the point? You’d made your decision and come up with your assumptions on who he was. He wasn’t in the practice of pleading with women to give him a second chance or even a true first one.

By day three, he found himself ignoring his wounded pride and ego. By no means was it easy to do. In truth, it had been years since he’d ever felt this way—rejected. It was humbling. Since the years when his star had officially risen so far in the Hollywood stratosphere, every woman he’d ever either approached or been approached by never rejected him. In no way was he cocky enough to think women couldn’t reject him. He just thought he felt something and that something was mutual.

“Another beer?”

“Uh—no, a glass of water, please.”

“Tap, sparkling, flavored sparkling?”

Scoffing, he shrugged then said the first that that came to mind. “Sparkling lemon is fine. Thank you.”

The waitress nodded and walked back the way she came with his empty beer glass in hand. Today was necessary. It was long overdue. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was ten minutes past when he suggested the meetup. He also noted that he was annoyed with this lateness but not with yours. Groaning, he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to rub out the tension that rested there.

“Hey, honey.”

Snapping his eyes open, he saw Abby’s cheerfully smiling face. Her blonde hair was styled with bouncy curls that framed her blue-eyed face. She leaned closer as if she intended to kiss him, tilting his face to the side, her lips landed on his cheek.

“Oh,” Abby said, voice filled with disappointment.

“Sit, join me,” he said, hoping to distract from the slight he’d just shown her.

Abby sat on the stool across from him after placing her purse to hand on the side of it. When she leaned forward, his eyes dropped to her top's cleavage before they instantly came right back up to her face.

“How are you, babe?”

“Good.

“I missed you so much. You have no idea. There were so many things I wanted to tell you,” Abby began before he could start the conversation.

He listened and nodded along as she went on and on about the things that were going on in her life. She talked for so long that he was able to drink the entire glass of water the waitress brought over. When the waitress came back to take their orders, he had to step in.

“Uh, can you give us a few moments?”

“Sure.”

Abby’s eyebrows knitted, showing her confusion.

“I wanted to talk, Abby.”

“About what, Henners?”

Taking a deep breath, he slowly released it. “A while ago, we talked, and I thought it was clear where my head was when I said we need space and to distance ourselves from each other. I thought we both understood what that meant, but—I can see I wasn’t clear.”

He could see the worry in her eyes, and he hated to do this, but it had to be done. “I think you should move on…we both should. I didn’t mean to give the impression that there was hope for reconciliation or even that this would turn into a fling of some sort. I’m sorry for not being clear. However, I think I have to be crystal now. You have to stop calling and texting and allow yourself to move on.”

She didn’t speak for a full two minutes.

“Really?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I just--.”

“—No, no, I get it. I really do. I--,” Abby stuttered without making any eye contact. She stood, reached for her purse, and schlepped it onto her shoulder.

“Abby, I’m--,” He began begore she cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it. You were clear before I just thought—guess I hoped if I showed you I was serious and willing to try that you’d come back.”

He felt like a world-class wanker. As he opened his mouth to say something, Abby held her hand up, smirked, and turned to walk out of the restaurant. Sighing, he made eye contact with the waitress and raised his hand for the check. One down, one more to go. By the time dinner rolled around, his FaceTime call with Francesca went a lot better. Though he could tell her defiance and reluctance to accept his wishes, she eventually did, eventually being the operative word. It took nearly twenty minutes.

As he sat with his glass of red wine and his pasta dinner with Kal at his feet with his bowl filled with his gourmet feast and a new bone for dessert, he noted everything was quiet. His home was silent, and his thoughts were even more so. It dawned on him then. This was the first time in three years he was absolutely free with no attachments to anyone. It was something that made him pause. His life was a busy one, and he’d seen the inside of a movie trailer more than he’d seen the inside of his own home. With him traveling so much, dating was hard and more a nuisance.

That was how Abby and Francesca came into the picture. He’d dated Francesca on and off for years before she ended things believing he didn’t want anything stable only to come back into the picture. Abby was a one-night thing that kept happening whenever he was home. Both required so little besides some attention here or there. It was probably what he gravitated to. It was low stress and a low chance of any emotional entanglement that he didn’t want--until he met you.

After dinner and a quick walk for Kal, he found himself in for the night with one thing on his mind. You.

“Bollocks! Just call her. Call her. It’s no big deal,” he said, trying to hype himself up.

Feeling brave, he quickly grabbed his phone and tapped your number in his contacts. By the time the first ring began, he’d changed his mind and promptly ended the call.

“You’re an idiot, mate!”

He knew he was in for another sleepless night.

~~~~~~~~~~

-Aliya-

Chewing your bottom lip, you stared at his name on your phone. It could have been seen as a little bit of divine intervention. For the last week, you’d gone back and forth, up and down, and around your decision to walk away from him and end things. Part of you knew it was the right thing to do. He was clearly tangled up in some sort of drama, some sort of playboy lifestyle that you didn’t want any part of. There were even times you felt like a hypocrite. You were dating two men at once. Yes, they both knew about each other, but still, it was technically the same thing. Your life was drama free because you worked hard to keep it that way, and that included exchanges between Jesse and Liam.

In the beginning, six months ago, you’d made it crystal clear to both of them that you didn’t want any serious commitments. You told them that your career, businesses, and workload kept you plenty busy and gave you enough headaches, and you expected none from them. You set out the rules; they followed them and kept the drama to themselves. Did they like each other? Maybe not. Did they like the idea of sharing you? Maybe not. Did you care? Eh, not really. You mainly entertained them when you had some free time and wanted to de-stress. As said before, you liked drama free.

“Why’re you staring so hard at your phone?”

Jumping, you tried to hide it, but you weren’t quick enough. Amaya was the one to grab it from you to see Henry’s name. The sound she made said she disapproved.

“Still can’t believe you did that man like that.”

Kissing your teeth, you snatched your device back and sat on one of the stools around the kitchen island.

“What else was I supposed to do? Join the equation and become part of a square?

“The only fun shapes are triangles because they equal threesomes,” Amaya began, making you and Alicia stare at her as if she’d lost her mind. “However, squares can be fun.”

“You’ve lost your mind. In no situation is three women duking it out for one man fun. A quick departure was the only move,” you defended.

“Honestly if, and I say if with hella contingencies, if, if, if he were actually sleeping with two other women, then yes, you did the right thing. There is no sharing unless it’s with another man for my attention,” Amaya announced.

“The problem is, though, we don’t know if he was sleeping with these women. You made an assumption, didn’t really allow him to explain,” Alicia countered.

“What! He had the entire discussion on the corner.”

“After you’d accused him of being a cheat and fuckboi? After you’d probably offended him by taking strikes on his character? There are plenty of things that are different between Americans and Brits. What was you asserting your position could be disrespect to them,” Alicia, the voice of reason, theorized.

You knew she was right on some level. You’d spent enough time in England to know the etiquette and social differences. From his cold demeanor, before you walked away, you knew you’d either injured his pride or pissed him off. Hell, both were very possible.

“Look, I’m not saying don’t stand up for yourself with letting someone know what you will or won’t accept. I’m saying maybe there was a better way. Maybe one that didn’t leave you second-guessing yourself and thinking about him.”

You hated when she saw right through you, hated when she was right, and hated even more when she called you out rather than letting you rock. Groaning, you shut your phone off and placed it face down, deciding to do what you did best—ignore everything.

You’d thought about him a lot over the last week, and within the last week, you’d come across more Henry Cavill content than you had in the entire year. There were InStyle interviews, promos, magazine articles, Instagram posts that were now on your feed because of one time you tapped on a picture to get a closer look. There were even YouTube videos of him reading thirsty tweets. Lord have mercy. He was everywhere, and the more you saw of him, the more you thought of him.

One thing you didn’t see regarding him were any tabloid pictures of him out and out with any woman. He was always pictured with family, his dog, friends, or by himself. That tidbit had you wondering if you’d been wrong about things. You hated second-guessing; it always left you in this weird hyper anxious state. You usually got a lot done when you were like this, but it left you exhausted.

“Have you thought of your two boyfriends as much as you’ve thought about this never was one?”

Why was she like this? She’d always been this way. She held nothing back, but where Alicia was the same, they differed in that Alicia had a way of being blunt but also being gentle. Amaya didn’t give a shit. She said what she meant with no care if the recipient felt offended.

“I’m gonna take your silence as a no. when was the last time you’ve actually spent any time with them? Bored?”

“I’m hungry, let’s eat,” you said, walking out of the kitchen making your way to the home cinema room. You knew how to flip a subject if you no longer wanted to talk about it.

The two of them followed behind you, then dropped into one of the large relaxing couches. Knowing you didn’t want to talk about it anymore, the two focused on figuring out a movie for tonight’s movie cinema. It had been weeks since the three of you had been able to do this, and it was long overdue.

Once you’d found something, the rest of the night was spent laughing, gossiping, being extra, eating and drinking while watching movie after movie. Thankfully the conversation remained off of you and on the two of them. Alicia spoke about her recent date while Amaya let you in on the status of her latest situationship. While the focus didn’t return to you and yours, your mind was sure focused on one thing. Henry.

Two days later, while you were locked in your office trying to make something of the mess of work before you, you got a notification from Instagram. Deciding you needed a break, you opened up the app and scrolled through your feed. After a minute or so, you came across a post on some gossip site. It was a picture of Henry’s smiling face with a caption that read, “Happy Birthday to Henry Cavill. This hunk of a man is celebrating a birthday today across the pond, and many women wish they could ring it in with him. From your fans on this side of the pond, Happy birthday!”

Your jaw dropped. It was Henry’s birthday.

“Is it really?”

That began a dive into the internet, which led you to the first site, IMDB. Sure enough, according to his fans, it was his birthday, May fifth.

“Wow.” Jumping back to Instagram, you typed his name in for a tag search and scrolled through the plethora of birthday wishes and fan page tributes. It was plain as day to see that his fans sure loved them some Henry Cavill. It was cute. After almost twenty minutes of scrolling, you began to debate if you should send him a birthday message. You wondered if it was appropriate.

“Is it appropriate to send a birthday wish to a man that wasn’t really yours to begin with but knew what your mouth tasted like?”

Closing your eyes for a few moments, you decided it wasn’t.

“Not appropriate, especially considering you were the one to end things. However, there was really nothing to end. We were never a we.”

Sitting in silence for another few minutes, you rolled your eyes.

“It is rude, though, if I don’t send something,” you finalized, admonishing the British etiquette coursing through your blood.

You dropped your head to the desk and groaned. This was ridiculous, you thought. It shouldn’t be this complicated.

“You’re making it complicated, dummy. Just send the message.”

Taking a few moments to gather your thoughts, you sat up again as if nothing had happened for the last fifteen minutes of indecisiveness and began your text. You typed a few beginnings and deleted them. You didn’t know how to begin. Did you just jump in and ignore the massive elephant in the room? Did you address the elephant but get right to the birthday wish? Your etiquette training said to address the elephant but in a ladylike manner then proceed to the birthday wish. That’s what you should have done. Your real-world girl living said to ignore that elephant and get right to it, then bury your head and see how he takes it.

MSG: It’s your birthday, well, according to IMDB and all your Cavillry fans. Did you know your fans call themselves the Cavillry? That’s pretty insane and hilarious. Anyway, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I know you never told me when it was but the wonders of the internet. Yes, I might have googled you. Anyway, I hope your birthday is filled with laughter, fun, happiness, and wonder because you just might deserve all three. Be safe and live like it’s your last.

Yeah, you ignored the fuck out of that elephant and took it to a whole other level. Full-on avoidance. As you looked over the message, you chewed your bottom lip, a nervous tick you never got rid of. When three or four minutes passed by with no response, your anxiousness picked up. That was when you slid it away and got back to work, determined not to obsesses over it.

~~~~~~~

-Henry-

Shocked could have summed up what he felt when he saw your message. Shocked and stunned silent. It happened at the weirdest time too. He was in the middle of a get together with his family for his birthday. With his Guinness in hand, he just happened to glance at his phone as he was going to snap a picture of something funny Simon was doing.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Shaking his head, he spun around to face Piers on his right. “Nothing. I’m good,” he lied.

“No, you’re not,” Simon said, coming up on his left to sit at the table. “Which one is it, Francesca or Abby?”

He rolled his eyes at Simon, not finding any humor in his words. His brothers laughed at him because they all knew the story there.

“You have the worst taste in women,” Nik began slapping him hard on his shoulder. “You either choose the ones who have ulterior motives hence Abby, or the ones who want different things than you, Francesca,” he finished.

“At least the women I get are beautiful,” he compensated quite pathetically. It was a horrible comeback, but it was all he had. He hated not having some sort of comeback when his brothers ganged up on him. It took him back to being a child.

“Francesca was beautiful, Abby—was adorable a little immature though,” Piers added with a shrug to the end.

He couldn’t deny that. “She was,” he said with a nod. “Very jealous too.”

“So, who was the message from?”

“No one.”

It was a blatant lie.

“Oh, it’s someone all right,” Piers called out.

He groaned, knowing they wouldn't let it go until he’d told them. Sighing, he gulped his beer before he began.

“Remember the woman I told you about?”

The three of them looked confused as if he'd never mentioned you before.

“The one who had your phone?”

“Yes. Turns out, she saw the messages for and from Abby and Francesca.”

They all looked confused again. “So what?”

Simon shook his head before he spoke. “He’s interested in her.”

“Who is this woman, anyway?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied to Nik’s curiosity. He wanted to keep some privacy, especially now that you’d decided he was some male gigolo.

“We went out on three dates. The second date goes well--.”

“—How well?”

He couldn’t help but smile at Simon’s inquiry. His memory was still fresh from what he was classifying as the best second date he’d ever had. When his chuckle broke through, his brothers’ interest piqued.

“Really well, I see,” Nik professed.

“Not like that. It was just a kiss, or three kisses, three incredible kisses. Anyway, she ignores me for a few days; then I see her in New York about a week ago. We had dinner with her friends, then breakfast the next day. Everything seemed fine, after she tells me that nothing is going to happen between us.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. She said she saw the messages, and she doesn’t do drama or messy, and she thinks I’m juggling two women, and she has rules she’s broken and won’t break the drama rule,” he informed. As he said the words, his annoyance rose again.

“Woah. A lot going on there,” Simon began before he gulped his beer.

“What rules?”

“I don’t know. She said she wished me success in the future, but we were done,” he finished.

“To be fair, you are juggling two women. You and Francesca have this weird relationship where she wants more from you, but you’re not willing to give it to her, so she tries to see if it’s enough, and it’s not. That’s the back and forth,” Piers summed up. He finished his beer then continued. “With Abby, I don’t know your problem. You know you need to end it, but maybe the shag is too good.”

“Hey!”

Their laughter rang out again.

“Honestly, my world gets lonely, and it’s nice to have someone that wants you around instead of being all work,” he divulged.

“Even if you don’t feel anything for that someone?”

Simon hit the nail right on the head. Sighing, he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I cut ties with them both.”

“Whatever,” Nik scoffed.

“I’m serious. It was last week. It was like breaking up with them all over again.” He shuddered, thinking back to the experience.

“So, they’re gone?”

“Gone and done,” he confirmed.

“And things with this woman?”

“I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t seem that interested. It seems as if she’s being friendly, but that’s it.”

“Did she kiss you back?”

Nodding to Piers, he replied. “She did.”

“Does she give you eye contact, or do you catch her watching you sometimes?”

It was an odd question, but he briefly thought it over before he answered Simon's inquiry.

“Yes.”

“She’s into you,” Piers, Simon, and Nik said in unison.

“Then why brush me off? She just seems—unattainable.”

“Be careful with those types of women,” Nik warned.

“I’ve heard nothing for a little over a week, and now she sends me this message.”

“Read it.”

Opening the message back up, he read your text to his curious brothers. As he read, he glanced at each of their faces trying to gauge what they were thinking. They each looked to be thinking different things, though. Once he finished, he looked at all of them.

“That was nice of her,” Simon expressed.

“Sounds like she’s being friendly,” Piers added.

“That’s good and well. What do I say?”

“Nothing.”

“No. Thanks,” Piers suggested conflicting with Nik’s advice.

“Thanks? That’s it?”

“That’s it. Guarantee it’ll drive her crazy.”

He looked between them again, and seeing them nodding together; he decided what the hell.

MSG Henry: Thanks.

“Good. Now forget her, and let’s get out of here to enjoy your birthday!”

Five minutes later, they were on their way to one of the city's exclusive gentlemen's clubs. While this establishment wasn’t a traditional strip club, there were women in cages and frames throughout the club. It was a popular location among Londoners and one he’d been to once or twice already.

Once they walked into the club through the VIP entrance, they were led to one of the private sections for celebrities. After almost ten minutes inside, he noticed the eyes on him, but he did his best to ignore it. It was his birthday, after all, and he intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

Fifteen minutes later, he’d had two more beers and was now surrounded by a few women who eagerly tried to gain his favor. They each talked about something different, making it difficult to focus on anyone. When one of the women pulled him up to dance, the other sandwiched him making him the prime meat between them all. When his brothers glanced over, they all released an uproar of cheers. It was absolute lunacy, and the longer he remained there, the crazier things became. Though he partied and enjoyed the night, you weren’t far from his mind.

By the time they staggered out of the club, the paps were there to catch the women's desperateness as they exited the club. Though they tried, he got into the taxi with only his brothers as his company. He wasn’t the kind of man to have a string of one night affairs. It was too reckless for him.

~~~~~~~~~

-Aliya-

Thanks. That’s what he chose to reply with thirty minutes from when I sent the message. Thanks. Not thank you, but thanks. Not I appreciate you taking the time. Thanks. Not you’re so sweet to think of me. Just thanks. It boiled your blood. You were confused by, annoyed with, and dissatisfied with the message. Couldn’t he have mustered up another reply? Anything. You tried to have work be enough, but you gave up an hour after receiving the message. Instead, you relieved your annoyance in the kitchen. When you were angry, you always had to chop things. You had no intention of cooking. You just wanted to chop.

Thanks to the near hour of your obsessing, you had Ziploc bags of diced onions, peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis, and carrots. You doubted you’d be able to go through it within the week, but that wasn’t the point. By the time one in the morning rolled around, you were still anxious and annoyed. You couldn’t believe this. You hadn’t had a reaction like this to someone in a long time—if ever.

That was when your phone rang. Grabbing it off of the nightstand, you saw Henry’s name illuminate the screen. Your nerves shot up like a rocket, and no matter how many deep breaths you took, they remained sky-high. After a few rings, you answered.

“Hello?”

A sigh echoed on the other end before Henry spoke. “I honestly didn’t think you were going to answer. I was hoping to leave a message.”

“Well, I answered. What message were you going to leave?”

The deepness of his voice sounded deeper from what you remembered, and it had goosebumps prickling your skin.

“One so you’d realize what you’re missing,” Henry replied. Your eyes bugged.

Did he really just say that? Your mouth gaped open as you wondered incredulously while sitting up in your bed to rest against the cushioned headboard.

“It’s dawned on me that you must think you’re not missing anything when it comes to me. So let me assure you you’re missing out on plenty.”

Pinching your lips, you tried to stifle your snicker. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” Henry confidently confirmed. The way he said it had your back straightening and any amusement quickly fading. The tone of his voice spoke to you, making your belly flutter.

“Like what?” It was barely above a whisper.

“You’re missing out on my kindness, my sensitivity. You’re missing out on flowers just because, surprise handwritten notes just to show I care. You’re missing out on romance women only dream about. You’re missing out on all the captivating intellectual conversations we could have about the stars, Rome, Greece, Egypt, and why we’re all descendants of black kings and queens. You’re missing out on someone being there for you unconditionally because they want to be because fate has led them to you. You’re missing out on lazy days of playing video games, eating pizza and drinking beer, missing out on a man who doesn’t care if you’re in sweatpants and messy hair, or all dolled up in makeup and heels. You’re missing out on me, my passion, my strength, my heart. You’re missing out on the chance never to cry again, missing out on the chance to feel more complete than you have ever felt in your life. You’re missing out on being able to stare in my eyes whenever you want, missing out on these hands to hold you, these lips to kiss you—missing out on us.”

If a gentle breeze somehow blew through your house right now, you’d be knocked off your bed. You were hanging on that little. You were so rattled you were speechless and actually physically shaking. The conviction and raw emotion in his voice was something that shook you to your core and left you raw, wanting, and on the verge of tears. The pounding of your heart was so loud that it was all you could here for a few moments. Trying to use your breathing to slow it you realized it was impossible.

“Are you—drunk?”

“I’ve had a lot to drink, yes, but I’ve never been more clear-headed in my life. You're not only missing out, but you’re also making me miss out on all of that as well. Goodbye, Aliya.”

Your phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. You sat there speechless, motionless, rattled to the bone, and completely wrecked.

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

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out-of-jams · 5 years ago

Text

One Chance || myg

(Amazing, incredibly badass banner made by @kimtaehyunq )

↠ One Chance ↞ Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project.

And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings/Genre: College!au. Music producer!Yoongi x Singer!Reader. Fluff. Explicit language. Some angst. Mentions of alcohol. s2l. Oneshot.

A/n: Hey all you cool cats and kittens. Hope you’re all staying safe out there! I wasn’t intending to write this, but I had no other choice.

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

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Min Yoongi.

The name stared up at you in size twelve font, black letters printed onto the white sheeted paper. Every other word on the page blurred around the edges as you tried to place a face to the name. You weren’t good with names, never had been. So with a sigh, you leaned to the side and mumbled to the girl sitting next to you in class.

“Hey, who’s Min Yoongi?”

She--Mira? Mina? something like that--glanced up from her portfolio opened up on the desk and shot you a disbelieving look. You couldn’t blame her, not really. It was nearing the end of the semester and your vocal class had worked with the music production class multiple times throughout the course of the year. Neither class was very big, so you probably should have known the names of all twenty students. Total. Ten in each class.

But hey, in your defense you’d had a lot on your plate, seeing as how you were about to graduate from university and all. Which was a pretty big deal, so memorizing the names of people you only saw a few times ever-so-often wasn’t high up on your list of priorities.

But Min Yoongi.

You recognized him the moment you saw the soft outline of his profile through the glass window of the studio door a day later. He had his attention trained on whatever was on his laptop screen, pale hand sliding across the mousepad. His dark brows were pinched in concentration and you could see the tip of his tongue digging into the side of his cheek.

Even though the overly-bright lights in the room were on, the guy still somehow managed to blend in with the slate grey walls. Hell, his icy blond hair was the only color to stand out amongst all the black clothing. The oversized hoodie and black joggers he wore looked comfortable, and had you glancing down at your own outfit self-consciously. Had the sweater, skirt and high heeled boots combo been too much? Should you have dressed down a little?

Whatever. It was too late now.

Watching him through the door made you feel like some kind of stalking creep, but you couldn’t help it.

You’d seen him around campus a few times and recognized him from whenever your classes joined together and was a little disappointed at yourself for not recognizing his name. Even though you'd never spoken a word to him before, you were a little apprehensive about being partnered together. Min Yoongi had a reputation, and not a very good one. Sure, he was talented at what he did, producing music, to the point where a lot of people in the music department called him a genius. But he was known for being standoffish. Rude. And could cut someone down with a few words from his naturally pouty lips.

You didn’t like to judge a book by its cover, or by the rumors that circulated about them. However, that did nothing for the intimidating aura that bled from the man like cologne the second you stepped foot into the room.

He didn’t even pause in whatever he was doing to spare you a glance. Just announced in a dry, rumbling voice, “You’re late.”

“Uh.” You hesitated halfway into the room, the door swinging shut behind you automatically. Two seconds in and he already hated you. Great. “Sorry. I got lost.”

That made him look up and watch as you pulled the only other rolling chair back from the desk and plopped down. God, his eyes were just as daunting as the rest of him: onyx in color and cat-like in shape, they were bottomless as he blinked at you lazily. And he slowly raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“You got lost.” Yoongi repeated slowly. So sarcastically that you didn’t even hear a question mark at the end of it. “Aren’t you about to graduate? How are you still getting lost on campus?”

Your mouth opened and closed, embarrassed heat blossoming across your cheeks. You were blushing hard and you knew it, but that sure as hell didn’t mean that you had to acknowledge it. So you just sniffed and dug through your backpack for an excuse to break eye contact. “I haven’t been in here before.”

It was true. In a way. The hall of studios that you were in now were for the senior music production students. There was a completely different area for each year, but each student had their own assigned as theirs for the semester. So you weren’t lying when you said you hadn’t been to his exact studio before.

Which he seemed to catch on to, if the way Yoongi’s second eyebrow raised to join the first told you anything. But he let it go and turned back to shut his laptop, which you could now see was opened to a music production app. You weren’t very schooled on how to operate it, but even you could tell that he seemed to be very far into whatever it was he was making.

Though you didn’t get a good enough look at it before he closed it.

“Even though we have a month to do this, we should figure out what kind of song we’re making now instead of later.” Yoongi stated in that gruff voice of his and clicked a few things on his laptop. “Since you’re the one singing, you’ll be setting the tone--”

“Wait.” You interrupted.

Yoongi stopped whatever it was he was about to say to give you a blank look, the corners of his lips turned down. “What?”

Clearing your throat, you continued on despite the way his expression tried to cow you into shutting up. “How’re we splitting this up?”

A valid question. Not every person who created music worked in the same way. Some liked to do things a completely different way than somebody else might’ve. Last time you’d worked with one of the students from the music production class, the two of you had butted heads the whole way. He hadn’t wanted to hear your input at all, and you weren’t about to be shoved off to the side like some kind of un-opinionated mouthpiece again.

Yoongi made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a hum. “I normally make the track and leave the lyrics up to the singer unless they need help.”

He looked at you from out of the corner of his eye as he clicked a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him to bring the giant monitor above the control panel to life. “Can you write?”

“Yes.” The word left your mouth before you could even think about it.

“Good. You’ll take care of that then.” Yoongi slid a blank yellow notepad into the empty space on the control panel between you. “Though we’ll need to do the melody before that.”

The next time the two of you met was almost a week later. It’d been sometime late in the afternoon when you both finally had time in your schedules. Because for some stupid reason, even though both of your classes were combined to work on the project, it had to be done outside of class.

Ugh.

As if you didn’t already have enough things to stress over. Like say, securing a job for after graduation.

During the first meeting between the two of you, you’d already decided on what kind of song you wanted to make. Something upbeat, but not over the top, though not boring either. You weren’t a huge fan of sounding like every other music artist out there and apparently Yoongi had felt the same. So it’d been easy to come up with.

He’d texted over a few ideas for the concept and you’d been pleasantly surprised at how serious he took it. At how complex and layered the ideas he’d come up with were. They were a lot better than anything you could have ever dreamed up and you were beyond astonished.

Especially when he met you outside of his studio door, blond hair was secured back off his forehead by a white headband, and greeted you with, “I finished the track.”

“Already?” Shock was clear in your voice and you watched open mouthed as he unlocked the door and held it open for you to follow him inside. The lights flickered on overhead, but you were too busy staring at his back to notice. “That was quick, holy shit.”

Yoongi shrugged off your awe and wiggled the mouse to bring his computer to life. “It was no big deal. And now we can work on the melody.”

Still gaping at the blond, you shuffled forward to drop your bag next to your chair. “Okay. Um. Where should we start?”

Pulling out his chair, he sat down and lazily dragged the mouse over to open up his production software. “Listen to it first and let me know if you want to make any changes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You plopped down into your own chair and watched as he pressed play.

The music that poured from the expensive speakers started off slowly until it tapered off into what you assumed would be the first chorus. And you found yourself unconsciously tapping your fingers against your thigh when the bridge finally hit, you had to bite your lip to contain an excited smile. The moment it ended, you twisted in your chair to see that he was already looking at you. Though he kept his face blank, you could literally see question lingering behind those cat-like eyes of his.

“Mm.” You hummed, nodding your head and trying your damnedest to keep the grin from your face.

When you failed to say anything more, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Mm?”

“Mm.” You finally let the smile touch your lips. “I really liked it. It’s good.”

“Yeah?” He reached out to stop the track from replaying on a loop. “Any changes?”

“Nah. I like it just the way it is.”

“Alright.” Was what he responded with, but you could tell that he was pleased beneath that hard exterior of his. “The melody then.”

“The melody.” You agreed.

Min Yoongi was extremely anal when it came to anything he attached his name to.

That was probably why he had so many music companies vying for his attention. Not only did he produce nothing short of perfect tracks, but he’d even made some cash on the side selling some of them. Or so you’d heard through the grapevine.

Which was exactly why you were left staring at the blank notebook settled across your crossed legs. The pen in your hand had yet to put ink to the blank pages hours after you’d gotten home. All because some guy intimidated the hell out of you.

Most of the songs you wrote were fine. But that was the problem.

Min Yoongi didn’t do fine. And you had no doubt in your mind that he’d tear your work to absolute shreds should you present him something lackluster. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so quick to jump the gun and tell him you’d be fine writing by yourself.

It was way too late now.

“How long are you going to stare like that?”

Snapping out of your self-degrading thoughts, you turned to look over your shoulder. Jennie, your ever present roommate, was standing behind the couch shoving spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. By the lack of makeup on her face and the messy bun her long black hair was thrown up into, she was more than likely about to go to bed.

“Stare like what?” You asked with a poorly concealed pout, pulling out your earbuds that’d been playing the track on a constant loop.

“Like you’re constipated or something.” Jennie waved her spoon at you before dipping it back into the bowl to scoop up more soggy cereal. “Project really giving you that much trouble?”

She didn’t necessarily know exactly what was going on with you, not exactly. Sure, she knew that you were partners with Yoongi and had been spending a lot of time with the man for the project. But she didn’t know just how much pressure you were under. Self-inflicted or not.

“These lyrics are kicking my ass.” Groaning, you leaned to the side until you were sprawled out on the couch.

“Why?” Jennie rested her arms against the back of it, bowl of milk and cereal hovering over you dangerously. “They don’t normally.”

She had a point. It wasn’t usually so difficult to write a damn song, but you also didn’t usually have a perfectionist genius as a partner. Instead of saying that though, you just threw your arms over your face. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this, ‘ya know? I should drop out while I still can.”

“O-kay.” You could hear her exasperated eye roll. “Don’t stress so much about it. You know, whenever you’re done being overdramatic.”

Jennie successfully dodged the couch pillow you chucked after fleeing footsteps. A buzz from your phone had you reaching for it blindly and the text on the screen had you burying your face into the cushions.

Min Yoongi: you free tomorrow?

Y/n: yeah. Same time?

His response came in not even five seconds later.

Min Yoongi: works for me

“So, see you tomorrow?” The question left your lips as you packed your stuff back into your bag. You still hadn’t been able to come up with any lyrics. At least none good enough to show your partner. So while you’d both been in the studio, you’d busied yourself trying to write and Yoongi had been doing whatever it was that he did.

He’d just powered down the computer he’d been working on and shook his head without looking at you. “I can’t tomorrow. I have plans.”

“Oh, really?” That came as a surprise. The fact that there was something or someone out there that could force the Min Yoongi to ditch working on a song. “What kind of plans?”

Ever since you’d showed up with food two weeks ago, he’d been a little more amicable towards you. Not as closed off. Which, of course, only led to you bringing some with you every day. Maybe food being the way to a man’s heart really applied to every man. Nonetheless, with the way the two of you would banter back and forth without heat made you hope that it wasn’t just you who considered him a friend.

Yoongi paused, only for a moment, but he paused all the same in throwing his bag over his shoulder before he answered. “I...have a show.”

“A show?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you stood up. That was the last thing you would have expected to leave his mouth. “What kind of show?”

“It’s not the type of show you’d want to watch.” He headed for the door and you scrambled to follow after him.

Leaning against the wall while he locked up the door, you folded your arms across your chest. “Why? You a stripper or something?”

Yoongi didn’t even spare you a look, just pocketed his keys and started down the hallway, apparently assuming that you’d follow. “You saying I wouldn’t be a good stripper?”

He’d assumed correctly. Your legs raced to catch up. “I never said that. You insinuated that all by yourself.”

An amused scoff passed his lips, but that was all you got in response. You weren’t about to letter the matter drop though. “So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A stripper.”

A pause. And then Yoongi met your sparkling gaze and shook his head with a huffing laugh. “No, I’m not a stripper.”

“Well, if your show isn’t anything rated NC-18, then can I go?”

“Why would you want to go?”

His question had you sending him a hesitant look. “Because we’re friends, aren't we?”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “If I say no, will you stop asking?”

You pretended to think for a minute before clicking your tongue. “Nope.”

He looked over at you, feline eyes squinting in contemplation. As much as Min Yoongi liked to act like he came across as aloof, he was a lot easier to read than he probably thought. And he must have found whatever it was he was looking for, because his thoughtful pout turned into a careless shrug.

“Whatever. Fine.”

“Sweet.” You grinned up at him and finally let him go on his merry way.

It was difficult to find a parking spot. You’d had to loop around the block at least ten times before you were finally able to squeeze your car into a space between two giant SUVs. The spot wasn’t exactly close to where you were supposed to meet Yoongi, but it was the best you could do.

When he’d texted you the address, you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little apprehensive at first. It was located on the outskirts of downtown where you’d never been before. Because the further out you went from the center of the city, the more dangerous it got.

Y/n: I’m here.

You sent the text off to Yoongi and cut the car engine. Throwing a glance at the clock on the dash, you silently thanked yourself for leaving a bit early in order to get there in time. The sun had long gone down and the moon had taken its place, so the streets were dark. Only lit up by the street lamps and lights that bled from apartment windows. Most of the businesses were closed for the night, the corner store half a block down was the only one still open.

You had about six blocks to walk and was just about to get out of your car when your phone started vibrating in your hand.

“Hello?” You answered the call, voice pitched with barely concealed amusement.

“Where are you?” Yoongi’s voice was even deeper over the phone, if that were possible. And you could hear the sounds of cars driving past him in the background.

You rolled your eyes even though he wasn’t there to see it. “I told you that I’m here.”

He sighed into the phone and you just knew that he was making a face. “Where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“Like, parked a few blocks away.” You popped your car door open, turning back to the passenger seat to grab your bag. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Stay where you are.” Yoongi demanded and you raised an eyebrow. “I’ll come get you.”

“You don’t have to.” You huffed a laugh. “I have two legs, ‘ya know.”

“Really? Never noticed.” In the background, voices blended in with the sound of cars. “This neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest. So just tell me where you are so I can make sure you don’t get stabbed or something.”

“‘Stabbed or something?’” It was difficult to hide your amusement now, but you obeyed and got back inside your car anyway, letting him know what street you were on. “My knight in shining armor, you say the most romantic things.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. You knew he did. “Nevermind. Maybe I’ll just let you get stabbed while I make my escape.”

The bark of laughter that left you was impossible to contain. “I could run faster than you and you know it. So try me.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Yeah okay. You wouldn't--”

A click told you that yes, he would. And you were left staring down at your phone with open mouthed disbelief. How dare he? You were just about to call him back and tell him as much, when a knock on your car window had you jumping with a small shriek.

Yoongi stood right outside your door with his fist still raised and a gummy grin on his pouty lips. You just stuck your tongue out at him childishly and grabbed your bag before slipping out of your car. “You’re a bully.”

He slid his hands into the pockets of his dark colored jeans and shrugged. “Would a bully walk all the way over here to make sure you don’t get robbed?”

Now it was your turn to shrug, taking him in and pretending not to see his onyx eyes slide down your body. Yoongi was dressed casually like usual. With a plain white t-shirt and a black zip up jacket thrown over it, he pulled it off like he’d just stepped off a magazine cover. How in the hell he always managed to do that was a mystery to you. And you knew you didn’t compare to him, even with your high-waisted white joggers and grey crop top.

Whatever. It wasn’t like it was bright enough outside to matter anyway.

“That sounds exactly like something a robber would say.” You flicked your hair over your shoulder and took off down the cracked sidewalk, making sure to lock your car behind you.

“Not like there’d be much to steal.” Yoongi’s voice caught up to you right as he did, walking side by side with the occasional brushing of his shoulder against yours.

You responded to his playful jab by lightly smacking his arm. “Careful there. Keep saying such poetic words and you’ll make me fall in love with you, Min Yoongi.”

He went quiet, but you could feel him looking at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze was a weight that burned through you, a light shining through the night.

The rest of the walk passed by pretty quickly, especially when nobody jumped out of an alleyway to rob you at knifepoint. Whether or not that was because of the man walking at your side, or something else, it didn’t matter. Not when the building you were headed to for the night popped up in the distance.

It looked like any other building on the street, with rough brick siding and a glowing red and green sign advertising the bar. Situated on the corner, you were just about to head inside when Yoongi’s hand caught your arm.

“It’s this way.” He answered your confused look by tugging you gently down the alleyway right next to the bar.

“But I thought it was inside.” You glanced back behind you before looking back towards the dead ended alley.

Yoongi dropped his hand from your arm. “It is.”

“Ah, makes sense.” You nodded sarcastically, successfully drawing a smile from your escort.

“Be patient and you’ll see.”

True to his word, you saw what he meant when he came to a stop outside of a side door. There weren’t any signs or anything indicated what it led to, but you could take a guess as Yoongi pulled it open and gestured for you to enter first.

It was dark inside and you had to squint in the dim lighting in order to see anything. You were in what appeared to be some kind of entrance that reminded you of one of the speakeasies downtown. Though there wasn’t a soul in sight, just a staircase at the end of the short hall. Unless you counted the loud base of music pounding through your feet and straight to your bones. The door slammed shut behind Yoongi and then he was taking the lead towards the stairs.

The further down you went, the louder the music got until it was all you could hear. And once you got to the bottom of the stairs and turned into the room, you found out why. Bodies were packed wall-to-wall, some moving to the music pouring from the speakers and others nodding their heads with drinks in their hands. Red and purple lights made the room seem bigger than it actually was, made it easier to lose yourself in the crowd.

Yoongi had taken you to an underground club. Which just made you all the more curious about just what kind of show he was going to be performing in.

“Want a drink?” Yoongi’s voice, even though spoken directly in your ear, was barely distinguishable from the lyrics bleeding through the room.

You simply nodded, taking care not to bash your head into his nose from where he was leaning over for you to hear him. He said something you couldn’t hear, words lost to the crowd. But you assumed he wanted you to follow him when he started to merge himself into the throngs of people. Just when you thought that you’d have to try and fight your way through to keep up with him, he was reaching back to grab your hand.

Wrapped his slender fingers around yours without sparing you a second look.

He was just trying to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowd. Yeah, that was it. There was no other reason for it, so therefore your heart had no reason to speed up. To thump in time with the bass as you followed behind him. Especially when the warmth from his palm slid into yours.

“What do you want?” Yoongi turned back to speak in your ear. Shit, you hadn’t even realized that you’d already reached the packed bar. So you forced yourself to focus on the two bartenders running around behind it, rather than the hand still in yours.

“Tequila.” You answered. Yoongi raised both eyebrows in surprise before turning back to the bar. With his eyes no longer on you, it made breathing a whole lot easier. And you turned your attention away from Yoongi’s slim back and towards the stage.

It was all the way on the other side of the room and you watched as a guy walked across it with a mic in his hands. The music was lowered and his voice cracked to life through the speakers. Whatever announcement he was making went in one ear and out the other because Yoongi turned back around with a plastic cup extended out towards you. His other hand was empty and you sent him a questioning look.

Whether or not he knew what you were silently asking, or was just making a general announcement, he answered your question. “I have to perform soon.”

You made an ‘o’ with your mouth and accepted the drink with a smile in thanks. “You still haven’t told me what you’re gonna be doing.”

You had to stand on your tippy-toes in order for Yoongi to hear you, which didn’t go unnoticed by him if the amused gleam in his eyes was anything to go by. “You’ll see.”

Which was exactly how you found yourself with another drink in your hands and your back leaning against the bar. If you were being completely honest, you hadn’t been sure what to expect. A lot of different things had popped into your mind about what kind of shows your partner liked to put on. Some ranging from completely ridiculous, to weird, to funny.

But none of them had been this.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things. A talented producer, a deep thinker, a musical genius.

Never would you have thought to add “rapper” to the list. You should have known, was a little surprised at yourself for not being able to guess. Like all other things Min Yoongi, he was incredibly good at it. Took to the stage like a natural. And you were completely awestruck, unable to look away the whole time he was up on that stage, letting words flow from his lips like some kind of poetic river.

Calm, yet bubbling over with the effortless way he captured the attention of everyone in the room. The track he rapped over was fast paced, but he had no trouble keeping up and keeping the crowd engaged at the same time. He performed three songs, but it wasn’t enough. And judging by the one last look at the crowd Yoongi took before exiting the stage, it wasn’t enough for him either.

Whoever took his place didn’t have one ounce of your attention. And maybe that was rude or whatever, but you didn’t care. Not when you caught sight of his blond head making its way towards you. He got stopped multiple times along the way by people congratulating him with pats on the back or short conversations.

By the time Yoongi finally made his way back to your side, your second drink was extended out to him with a grin on your face. You’d barely even taken a sip from it, so it was completely full and beginning to sweat water. “That was amazing!”

The performer on stage was loud, but you could tell that Yoongi heard you by the smile he tried and failed to hide behind the rim of the plastic cup. But you weren’t going to leave it at that, grabbing a hold of his shoulders and squeezing to make sure you got your point across. “Like, incredibly amazing! Why didn’t you tell me you could rap like that?”

“You never asked.” He shrugged. Yoongi wasn’t the type of person to feed off of compliments, you knew that. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t appreciate them. The way his onyx colored eyes glittered told as much. And when he tilted the plastic cup back and drained the contents, the confidence that flowed beneath his skin gave it away too. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Where are we going?”

“Patience, young padawan.”

A snort of amusement from the passenger side of your car had you throwing Yoongi a wink. He completely ignored you in favor of thumbing through the playlist on your phone. It was hooked up to the radio via bluetooth and ever since you’d left the underground club, he’d been focused on silently judging you for your music choices.

When Yoongi had suggested bailing on the club, he hadn’t really had a particular place in mind. Which you’d soon figured out the moment you stepped out the door. He’d taken the subway to the place, so you’d all but shoved him into your car before he had a chance to say no.

“You really have Ariana Grande on here?” He wiggled your phone in your peripheral and you would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t too busy merging off the freeway.

“What’s wrong with Ari?” You huffed in mock offense.

“Nothing.”

“I can literally hear the judgement in your voice.”

“Maybe you should focus on the road then.”

Now you really did roll your eyes. Though the bark of laughter that accompanied it showed your lack of annoyance. “I would if we weren’t already here.”

Yoongi looked up from your phone just as you were putting the car into park. His eyes squinted into the dark with a furrow of his eyebrows. “We’re at the beach?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ and turned off your car, quickly hopping out before you could fall victim to his flatline stare.

The scent of sea salt lingered in the semi-humid air and you paused for a moment to inhale deeply. There was nothing quite like the smell of the ocean, and when the passenger side door opened and closed, you rounded the car to wave Yoongi along. He caught up to you right as your shoe hit the wooden planks of the boardwalk. You’d had to park way back in one of the lots far away from the beach for whatever godforsaken reason.

Shopfronts, closed and shuttered by metal grates due to the late hour, greeted you as you walked down the path. And Yoongi’s presence at your side was calming. Hell, everything about that man was. Never would you have thought that about him, not at first. Not with the rocky way your friendship had started.

Neither would you have expected the warmth that bloomed in your chest everytime he looked at you with those pretty eyes of his. Or flashed you one of his patented gummy smiles. He’d somehow wormed a place into your heart with that sarcastic wit of his. No, the last thing you would have expected from your final project was this.

But you didn’t mind. Even if he didn’t feel the same way, only looked at you like a friend, you didn’t mind. Because you’d take anything he offered you. And if a friendship was all he was willing to give, that was okay too.

“Where are we going exactly?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you glanced up at him to see that he was already looking at you.

“Do we need to have a destination?” You shot back with a wiggle of your eyebrows. “It’s all in the journey.”

He rolled his eyes skyward as if silently asking why me, but let a smile touch his lips anyway “And this journey leads to the beach I’m guessing?”

“Maybe.” You dragged out the syllables, nudging your shoulder with his playfully. “Don’t tell me you don’t like the beach.”

“Who doesn’t like the beach?”

“That’s exactly what I’m--whoa.” Your feet came to a halt right as you stepped out from between two shops, where the boardwalk met the beach. Yoongi stopped at your side, but you didn’t even notice.

Because you were too busy staring at the apparent concert that was being held further down the beach. Apparently the loud music you’d heard from the parking lot wasn’t from one of the many speakers placed throughout the boardwalk. Well, that would explain the lack of parking at least.

Even from where the two of you stood, you could tell that the crowd was huge. They took up a big chunk of the beach, bodies nothing but a dark mass in the distance as they danced to the music from the stage. You couldn’t tell who it was, not that far away. But the multicolored lights flashed into the sky like a beacon.

“I wonder who’s performing.” Yoongi’s mumble had you bending down to unlace your shoes. “What’re you doing?”

“You wanna know who’s performing?” Slipping off your socks, you threw both those and your shoes into your bag. Once it was closed up, you sent Yoongi a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s go find out.”

He didn’t move, just gave you a look before realization dawned on his face. “You want to sneak in.”

It was a statement, not a question, but you nodded your head anyway. “Come on, when will you ever have the chance to do something like this again. Don’t tell me you’re scared we’ll get caught.”

Yoongi scoffed, but leaned down to slip off his shoes in an uncharacteristic move. You knew he wasn’t much of a partier and didn’t do things like this very often. So the fact that he was caving to your suggestion had your mind whirling. “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“At what?”

A smirk was thrown your way as he stood back up, but that was all the answer you got. After all the time you’ve spent with the man, you’d like to consider yourself a Yoongi Whisperer. So that smirk probably meant something along the lines of: I’m surprised that you’re a super awesome badass.

Or something.

“Just come on.” You grabbed his hand without thinking, dragging him behind you onto the sand. When he failed to complain, you took that as a greenlight to continue doing so.

When his fingers linked themselves with yours, it took all you had to not falter in your steps. To pretend like you weren’t affected by such a thoughtless action. To calm the rapid beating of your heart.

The closer you got to the concert, the louder the music got, until you could hear the roar of the crowd over the artist on stage. It was EDM, or at least sounded like it. Of course, as soon as you got closer, you spotted your first hurdle. One you’d been unable to see from far away.

A chain link fence stood between the two of you and a night of fun. It had your shoulders deflating before you even realized it, and you turned to the blond at your side. “Should we climb it or something?”

Biting your lip, you eyed just how far up it was. Even if the two of you managed to climb it, there was no way that you wouldn’t be spotted by security. And being arrested was the last thing on your to-do list.

“Or.” Yoongi crossed over to the fence and wrapped his hands along the bottom of it. With a quick glance around to make sure that no one was looking, he lifted it up and back, bending it backwards with just enough space left at the bottom for someone to squeeze underneath.

There was no way that he would have been strong enough on his own to lift it, and a closer look had you snorting a laugh. Apparently the two of you weren’t the only ones who’d had the idea to sneak in.

“You going?” He questioned and you started forward before a smartass remark could leave his mouth.

The sand was cool beneath your body as you shimmied underneath the space between the fence and the ground. And once you were on the other side, you crouched down and grabbed the fence from Yoongi to pull back towards your side. “I’m surprised that you’re going along with this, to be honest. Don’t you hate music like this?”

He grunted as he crawled across the sand towards you. “You wanted to.”

“So?” Your voice was soft, but he was still able to hear you over the pounding bass. The fence dropped from your fingers once he was on your side, but you didn’t move, just stared up at him as he stood.

“So.” Yoongi started, extending a hand down to help you up. “Are you coming?”

His answer had warmth blossoming in your chest and a tiny smile blooming on your face. Had you reaching out to let him help you up off the sand. He didn’t let go while you brushed yourself off, but he did guide the both of you towards the writhing crowd, if only to avoid being spotted by security.

It was a good thing that Yoongi was a slim man, because it made slipping through the numerous dancing bodies closer towards the stage a whole lot easier. You’d made it to about the middle when he stopped and tugged you closer to join him in a pocket of space between two different groups of people. The scent of marijuana mixed in with sea salt from the ocean in a cocktail that usually accompanied things like that.

“Dance with me.” You spoke into Yoongi’s ear, ignoring the excited flush you felt at being so close to him.

“I can’t dance.” He stated, despite the hand he slipped around your waist and pressed into your back. Whether or not to move you out of the range of the group of girls dancing wildly behind you, or something else, you didn’t know.

Chest to chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating. “Mm. I don’t believe you. Everyone can dance.”

“That’s a lie.” Yoongi’s lips were titled up at the corners and his gaze on you was soft. Gentle.

The flashing lights on the stage flickered through his dark colored eyes. Turned those once pools of onyx into a glittering galaxy that you couldn’t look away from. That hypnotized you like the beat that pulsed beneath your skin and drowned your ears.

“That’s not true.” Your mumble was lost to the crowd. Buried somewhere underneath the music as he moved closer. And the butterflies nestled deep in your gut fluttered their wings when his other hand cupped the side of your face.

Your eyes fluttered closed when his nose brushed yours and his breath fanned across your cheek. That was the only warning you got before his mouth was on yours. His lips were soft and he tasted like the strawberry chapstick he liked to wear. And the kiss, like everything Min Yoongi, was slow. Not in a lazy way. More like he was taking the time to savor it. To remember what your hair felt like as he slid his hand into it.

Or the way you involuntarily sighed into his mouth when his teeth caught your bottom lip. How your fingers found their way into the short hairs at the nape of his neck when you pulled him closer. How he’d had to hold back a laugh at the way you were standing on your tippy-toes in order to reach him.

You probably wouldn’t have pulled away and neither would he, if it weren’t for the rain that suddenly tore from the sky like an opened dam. Drenching anything and everything around it faster than you could blink. It had you forcing yourself away from the magnetizing pull of Yoongi’s lips to give him an eye crinkling smile.

“What was that for?” You didn’t care if you were getting wet.

Neither did he apparently, because he ran a thumb over the lips he’d just kissed, sending shivers down your spine. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No. Break it down for me.”

He met your imploring gaze almost bashfully, eyes squinting from the rain. “I’ve liked you since practically the beginning of the semester.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t know how.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe you, Min Yoongi.”

He opened his mouth to respond when he was cut off by a loud clap of thunder. Both of you glanced up at the dark sky at the same time.

Everyone around you was either ignoring the torrential downpour or shrieking and attempting to use anything to shield themselves from getting wet. Once the sound of thunder echoed a streak of lightning, you knew what was about to happen next and turned to meet Yoongi’s eyes. He, like everyone else, was drenched and his blond hair stuck to the damp skin of his face. It had you grinning at the pout on his mouth and you leaned forward to press your lips to his one final time before pulling away.

“We should get out of here before everyone else decides to do the same.” You had to shout to be heard over both the rain and the noise from everything else. It was only a matter of time before the concert got either canceled or postponed due to the thunderstorm and you didn’t want to be caught in the middle.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Yoongi wiped water from his eyes and grabbed your hand to start navigating the hell out of there.

And as your eyes trained themselves to his slim back and your fingers interlocked themselves with his, you smiled. The lyrics that you’d been struggling so hard to write came to life beneath the fire in your chest. You had no one but the man in front of you to thank for the inspiration.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a poet, a light in a sea of darkness.

Min Yoongi was nothing if not beautiful.

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #magicshopnet #yoongi #yoongi fic #r yoongi

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scattered-shadows · 5 years ago

Photo

8 Stories, 8 Movies from the Golden Age (1930s to 1960s).

It’s the golden age and 8 men are the most sought-after actors in Hollywood. Lights, camera, action!

A tale of love and suspense, Park Seonghwa is haunted by the memory of his deceased wife, a shadow looming over the halls of his mansion. When he marries again, his new wife now comes to realize that even in death, his wife still remains.

Daphne

Warnings: Mentions of murder, death, suicide, and illness. Might have some innuendos, might not. But I’m putting these warnings out there regardless.

Other things to note: There are OCs. I might mention other idols (most likely NCT).

A/N: This is the first series of 8, and broken into three parts. Tag list is open if anyone is interested. Enjoy.

Masterlist

Part 1

An overcast day at a resort. She managed to get away from the crowds of men in suits and women snootily drinking cups of coffee and tea, among those women being her employer, Mrs. Oh. She walked along the pathways, sketchbook and pencils tucked under her arm as she admired the perfectly manicured gardens. She had been here before, they always made it a point to come back every now and then, mostly for her employer to rub elbows with the elite. That didn’t interest her much. She preferred the simpler things and was more than content with her situation, save for her employer herself.

From a slight distance, she could see a figure standing near the edge of the cliff. It was a man, tall and lean and fashionably dressed with jet-black hair and his hands were in the pockets of his trousers. She stopped in her place, observing what he was doing. He seemed to be looking over the cliff a little too closely, almost as if he was about to jump off.

“No! Don’t do it!” She yelled, hurrying towards him.

The man turned around. He was incredibly handsome yet his expression only betrayed confusion. “Excuse me?”

She paused. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just because you were standing way too close to the edge, I thought you were about to-”

“Jump off?” He said. “I wasn’t going to jump off. What are you doing here?”

“I was only walking by when I saw you and I-”

“Then keep walking.”

“Sorry,” She muttered, feeling the embarrassment sink in. He passed by her without another word. He looked troubled, and she was certain that if he wasn’t thinking of jumping off, he seemed to be thinking of something else that was just as sad, or as his expression was, troubling. She watched him get in his car and drive away. She turned to go back down the path where she came from, figuring that Mrs. Oh was probably yelling for her already, or at least sending a waiter to look for her.

That was her life, a paid companion to an aging socialite or as what many might have bluntly described it, caregiver. Of course, she also knew Mrs. Oh would never dare use the more direct term, as it would only imply that she was getting too old and that she couldn’t keep up with her peers, both young and those of her age.

By the time she arrived, she saw Mrs. Oh already sitting by the door, sipping coffee and helping herself with a few biscuits from the tin on the table. She sat down across from her employer.

“I don’t think I’d want to come back here after the peak season. There’s hardly a single well-known person in this place,” Mrs. Oh frowned, putting her cup down. “This coffee’s gotten cold, waiter!” She raised her hand to try and get a server’s attention.

“I don’t think they can hear you,” She replied.

“Then make yourself useful, will you? What are you being paid for?” Mrs. Oh said, almost gesturing for her to get up from her seat until she stopped, her eyes lighting up like a wolf having seen its prey. “Oh my, that’s Park Seonghwa, look, he’s coming this way,” She gestured for her to look over.

Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the same man she saw earlier by the cliff now coming towards them. Mrs. Oh knew him, and she figured it wasn’t surprising that she did, from the way he was dressed and the air about him as he approached them. “What are you looking so surprised for?” Mrs. Oh asked her, having noticed her expression.

“Nothing, I just-I just saw him earlier on my walk,” She said quietly.

Mrs. Oh ignored her. “Mr. Park Seonghwa! How do you do? I’m Mrs. Oh, do sit down and have some coffee,” She held her hand out to him and Seonghwa gently shook it. “You can go now, Mr. Park and I will have coffee.”

As soon as she was about to get up, Seonghwa shook his head. “I think you’re mistaken,” He glanced at her. “Both of you should have coffee with me,” He stopped a waiter that was passing by. “Excuse me, I’d like three coffees at this table.”

The waiter nodded and walked off, and Seonghwa sat down across from them. She felt his gaze from time to time and the more she couldn’t help but look back, the more she noticed how handsome he really was. Yet, there was also a kind look to him, a big shift from his troubled aura earlier.

“I recognized you just as soon as you came in. So, how are you enjoying your stay here, Mr. Park? I assume you’ve been playing the tables at the nearby casino? You must be very good at baccarat,” Mrs. Oh said, her voice dripping with sweetness that it almost made her a little sick.

Seonghwa smiled, thanking the waiter for bringing over the pot and pouring coffee for them before walking off. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten bored of those games,” He answered, taking a sip.

“I don’t blame you one bit. If I lived in a place like the Fontaine, I would never really come here anyway,” Mrs. Oh replied with a high-pitched chuckle that she reserved when talking to someone in her social circle in public. “I heard it’s one of the biggest places in the country.”

“Would you like some more coffee?” Seonghwa sat up, one hand already holding the pot and poised to pour.

“Oh yes, thank you, Mr. Park,” Mrs. Oh smiled, as the man poured some in her cup.

“And you?” Seonghwa turned to her. “Would you like some more coffee?” He asked.

“Oh, n-no thank you, I’m fine,” She managed to say.

“How are you enjoying this place? Or aren’t you enjoying it?” He asked, his tone was a lot softer this time.

She felt her cheeks heat up. “It’s slightly artificial, at least to me,” She muttered, putting her cup down.

Mrs. Oh side-eyed her. “Girls her age, spoiled, aren’t they? Anyone would give their eyes just to be able to come here.”

“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?” Seonghwa smiled from behind his cup and she couldn’t help but purse her lips to stifle a laugh.

“Are you staying here very long? Now that we’ve found each other again, I hope we do see each other a lot here,” Mrs. Oh asked him.

“No I’m not, I’m afraid,” He replied. “Are you?”

“We’re staying quite a bit, yes,” Mrs. Oh replied. “Maybe she can make herself useful and help you with your bags.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of those either. I’ve always said, he who travels fast tends to travel alone, you probably haven’t heard of it, excuse me,” Seonghwa put his cup down, got up and walked off.

The two of them exchanged looks, Mrs. Oh looking particularly taken aback by his abrupt departure. She helped her stand, handing over her cane that she had leaning by the chair. “Well, what do you make of that?” She muttered. “...Was he intending to be funny? He must not have realized-”

She led Mrs. Oh to the elevator, glancing back every now and then in case he was still around. The doors opened. “Going up?” The elevator operator asked, and they nodded, Mrs. Oh still trying to make sense of what just happened.

“He probably mustn’t have realized it, poor thing. He’s probably still trying to cope with his wife’s death,” Mrs. Oh said as they got in. “They said he simply adored her.”

She went to sleep that night thinking of her unusual encounter with Seonghwa. It seemed too good to be true what happened the previous day. He told her off one moment, he was having coffee with her the next. Even with his shift in mood, she found him charming, and it wasn’t at all surprising knowing that he was once off the market. But knowing that he was once married and now a widower as Mrs. Oh had said, made her think that men like him don’t usually hang around with girls of her sort.

Leaving Mrs. Oh to eat her lunch the next day, she brought her sketchbook and pencils to go on another walk along the path, partly hoping that she would see him again. She entered the hotel’s restaurant, making a beeline for the table that only seated one person and as she sat down, she accidentally knocked over the small vase of flowers on the table. Water spilled out and she got up, flustered and trying her hardest to clean it up before the water could flow out any further. “Oh I’m so sorry,” She apologized profusely, while a few waiters gathered around the small puddle to try and clear up.

As she stood back up, clearing herself from the mess, she saw Seonghwa, seated at the next table. “You can leave that, you can join me here at my table,” He said to her, standing up as if to greet her and gestured to the empty seat across from him.

“That’s-that’s very kind of you but I couldn’t-”

“I wasn’t trying to be polite,” Seonghwa pointed out. “I should’ve already asked you to join me earlier if I knew you were that clumsy, but even if you weren’t, I’d still have invited you. Come, have lunch with me instead,” He said. “We don’t need to talk to each other if we don’t feel like it.”

He was unlike anyone she had ever met, and it fascinated her all the more as she accepted his offer, carefully seating herself down at his table. It almost felt like she wasn’t worthy yet she couldn’t refuse his offer any more than she did the first time. “Thank you.”

“Where’s your friend?” He asked.

“She’s having her lunch in her room. She came down with a cold last night,” She replied.

“I’m sorry for my rudeness yesterday,” Seonghwa said. “I don’t have much of an excuse but that I guess I’ve become a little more standoffish since I’ve been living on my own at the Fontaine,” He explained. “Is Mrs. Oh a relation to you? Or is she just a friend?”

“No, she’s my employer,” She said quietly. “I’m what you call a paid companion.”

“I didn’t know companionship could be bought,” Seonghwa looked down at his cup of coffee. “Are you going out to sketch again?” He said.

“Yes, yes I was,” She nodded, glancing at the thick book and the pencil case at the side of their table.

“Where are you planning to go?” He asked.

“I-I don’t know yet.”

“I could drive you in my car,” Seonghwa offered.

“That’s very kind of you, but-”

“I insist,” Seonghwa reached over, his hand on top of hers. “Let me drive you around, you’ll get to a place you might like much faster.”

She felt her heart pound at the contact. She was finding it hard to look him in the eye yet she could see from her peripheral vision that he was smiling. If he smiled at her any longer, she might’ve already fallen in love, and she had a feeling that she was going to.

The drive outside the hotel and around the scenic parts of the resort was quiet between them. Even when Seonghwa was at the wheel, she couldn’t help but admire his features, and the calm look on his face as he steered, slowing down every now and then in front of spots that he felt she might like. She felt like Cinderella, being taken around by a handsome prince. Cinderella with a sketchbook in hand, she thought as they finally stopped at the spot she preferred. If anything, she’d want to sketch him instead of the view.

She brought out her pencils and flipped her sketchbook open as she sat on the bench overlooking the view of the ocean. She noticed Seonghwa get out of the car as well, pacing back and forth at the side as the wind hit their faces. The troubled look on his face had returned, and it made her cross out the drawing she already had in front of her and turn the page over to a fresh one.

“A perfectionist?” Seonghwa suddenly asked her, having observed her this whole time.

“You’re not exactly a very easy subject,” She admitted. “Your expression keeps changing.”

Seonghwa looked a little surprised. “Wouldn’t it be better that you draw the view instead of me? The view out here is a lot nicer,” He said.

She didn’t argue, and instead started sketching the waves that crashed against the rocks and the sky. She didn’t want to keep him waiting, and she paused, noticing that he was staring at the boat that was tied next to the rocks. It was making her curious as to what he was thinking and why he looked as troubled as he did, especially whenever he was looking out at the sea.

“I went on vacation in this seaside village once,” She tried to keep up the conversation again. “I was at the souvenir shop when I saw a postcard that had a very big, very beautiful house on it,” She recalled. “I asked whose house it is and they said it’s the Fontaine.”

“Yes, the Fontaine is beautiful, to everyone,” Seonghwa mumbled, sounding grim. “To me it’s just the place I was born in and the place I’ve lived in all my life.”

She sensed that there was something with the way he said it. She looked over at her drawing. It was of him, standing at the side, his handsome side profile prominent against the backdrop of the ocean. “Well, at least we came here when the weather is good, right? At least the weather is good here at this time of the year. The water’s warm, I could stay here all day,” She said. “It’s terrible when it rains, I heard a man drowned here last year, but I’m not really afraid of drowning, are you?”

Seonghwa’s expression changed, from slightly troubled to even more so. “Why did you say that?”

“I- Did I say something offensive? I didn’t mean to, Mr. Park,” She said.

“Let’s go, I’ll take you home.”

He passed by her again without another word, this time to go back to the car where he sat in the driver’s seat. She glanced over at him. She felt the need to apologize, yet there seemed to be no point in doing it. It made her remember what Mrs. Oh said about him. Seonghwa must still be grieving over his wife’s death.

She returned to their suite at the hotel a little while later, still trying to process the definite shift in mood earlier. As she removed her shoes and jacket, she overheard Mrs. Oh talking to someone on the phone.

“Yes, yes, I knew him well. I knew his wife too,” Mrs. Oh said. “She was the beautiful Daphne Yoo, you know. The most glamorous woman in this part of the world. She drowned, poor thing, while she was sailing near the Fontaine, god bless her soul.”

It hit her. There it was, the reason why Seonghwa got upset.

The days after that seemed like a blur to her, as they spent mornings driving around, taking the scenic routes. It was Seonghwa’s suggestion, that she spend hours in a day away from Mrs. Oh at a time, but she didn’t complain. She wouldn’t have it any other way when it came to him. He was really like a prince, mood swings and all. Every time he was near, she felt her heart pound, and her cheeks would heat up whenever his hand touched hers and it made her wonder how on Earth did she get the chance to spend time with someone as prominent as Park Seonghwa.

“Sometimes I wish someone invented a machine that could bottle up a memory like how you do with perfume,” She mused as they looked out at the view from the car. “So whenever I wanted to revisit a memory, I’d just open it.”

“What kind of moment would you like to keep?” Seonghwa turned to her, a small smile on his face as he turned the engine on and began to drive.

“These-these last few days,” She said, a dreamy sigh escaping her.

“Those bottles can sometimes hold demons that have their ways of popping out at you just when you’re desperate to forget about them,” He muttered.

“Of course, of course,” She nodded.

“Stop biting your nails,” He suddenly said.

It made her sit up and put her hand down. “Sorry, I didn’t know I was,” She said quietly. “Can I ask you something, Mr. Park? Why did you ask me to come out here with you? I know you want to be kind, but why did you think of choosing me for your charity?”

Seonghwa slowed down on the gas. “I asked you to come out with me because I wanted your company,” He said. “You’ve somehow blotted out the past for me more than all the lights in this place, but if you think I just asked you out of kindness or charity, you can get out and walk home instead,” He snapped as he stopped the car and pulled over.

Before she knew it, hot tears were streaming down her face and she looked down, not wanting Seonghwa to see her cry. But he did, and his expression fell upon realizing what he said. “I’m-I’m sorry, I’m sorry for snapping at you like this, I didn’t mean to, it just came out,” He took the handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Wipe your eyes, blow your nose,” He murmured.

“Thank you, Mr. Park,” She said, wiping the tears away from her face.

“Please don’t call me Mr. Park,” He said. “Seonghwa, just Seonghwa. Sometimes my family calls me Mars.”

The nickname made her chuckle in the midst of wiping her eyes. “That’s a cute nickname.”

“I’m glad you think so,” He said. “Hwaseong, Seonghwa. Just call me Seonghwa, or Mars, whichever one you prefer.”

“Okay,” She paused. “Seonghwa.”

“But I did mean what I said, that I wanted your company, in fact I enjoy your company very much,” He admitted. “Can I ask you something this time?” He said, turning in his seat to face her.

“Yes” She said.

“I really want to kiss you, may I?” Seonghwa asked.

She stopped, having wiped off what she hoped was the last tear that rolled down her face. She felt her heart soar, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering, and relief that he looked at her in that way. “Yes you may, Seonghwa.”

He leaned in, pressing his lips on hers.

She felt like she was on cloud nine, still in disbelief that a man like Seonghwa, Park Seonghwa, would take an interest in her. But she would later be presented with a rude awakening in the morning, when Mrs. Oh told her that they were leaving to go overseas. Just when she was going to be with Seonghwa that they had to leave. She had to tell him the news. She knocked on the door.

“Come in!” She heard him say, and she opened it, carefully stepping inside.

Seonghwa was in his robe, his black hair slightly tousled but it only made him more handsome. “Hello” She said, wondering how she could break it to him.

“What brings you here?” He asked, approaching her and enveloping her in an embrace.

“I’ve come here to say goodbye, Seonghwa,” She said. “We’re leaving now.”

Seonghwa pulled away, staring at her. “What do you mean?”

“It’s true, we’re going now, and I’m-I was afraid I wasn’t going to see you again so I had to come here and tell you,” She said, her hands clasped in his.

“Where is Mrs. Oh taking you to?” He asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Overseas. New York, to be exact,” She looked down. “I know I’ll hate it. I’ll be miserable knowing I won’t get to see you.”

Seonghwa squeezed her hand, catching a glimpse of himself at the mirror. “I’ll just finish getting ready. I won’t be long,” He said, pulling away completely and walking into the bathroom.

“But I can’t stay much longer,” She said.

“Can I ask you something? Which would you prefer, New York or the Fontaine?” He suddenly asked, his voice muffled from behind the slightly open bathroom door.

She sighed. “Don’t joke about it. Mrs. Oh is waiting and I-I should probably say goodbye now.”

“I’ll say it again,” Seonghwa peeked over. “Either you go to New York with Mrs. Oh or you come home to the Fontaine with me.”

She stared at the sliver of his face, watching him finish brushing his teeth. “You mean you want an assistant or something?” She asked.

“I’m asking you to marry me.”

Her eyes widened at the sudden proposal. “Marry you?”

Seonghwa returned, wiping his mouth with a hand towel. He approached her. “What do you think?” He looked into her eyes, as if trying to search for an answer in the way she looked at him. “Well, I guess my suggestion was a little too sudden, wasn’t it? I’m sorry for springing that onto you.”

She shook her head. “No, no, I know what you said, it’s just, I don’t think I’m the sort of person men marry.”

He tilted his head in slight confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s just- I don’t belong in your world,” She looked down slightly, avoiding his gaze.

“What kind of world do you think I live in?” Seonghwa took her hands in his.

“The Fontaine, well, you know what I mean,” She admitted, squeezing his hands. She didn’t want to let go.

“Shouldn’t I decide whether you belong in my world or not?” Seonghwa let go of one hand to tilt her chin up. “Of course, if you don’t love me, that’s something else entirely.”

“I do love you,” She said. “I love you very much. I was crying all morning because I thought I wouldn’t be able to see you again.”

Seonghwa smiled and cupped her face. “I’ll have to remind you of this one day, and you won’t believe me. Is it a yes?”

“Yes,” She nodded. “I’ll marry you,” and he kissed her.

She knew Mrs. Oh wasn’t going to take the news of her sudden engagement to Seonghwa well, at least as well as she would expect. In front of Seonghwa, she displayed the smile she knew all too well from her years working for her. It was the smile of someone who absolutely hated what was going on.

When the two of them were alone, Mrs. Oh’s expression fell. “But of course you know why he’s marrying someone like you, don’t you?” She asked. “The empty house got on his nerves, he didn’t want to go on living on his own. Did you really think he actually loves you? He was married to Daphne Yoo, the most beautiful and the most cultured woman in this part of the world? Well goodbye, and good luck,” She turned to leave. “Mrs. Park.”

#kdiner #ateez #ateez fic #ateez au #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa

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seulgiology · 5 years ago

Text

caffeinated | bae joohyun

pt 1

pairings: cafe worker!irene x customer!female reader

words: 2.4k

genre: its some long ass smut

warnings: THEYRE FUCKING, cursing, bottom irene, top reader, car sex, very gay oof, overstimulation, orgasm denial, fingering, minor spit kink, dacryphilia, slight size kink, pet names, minor degradation

a/n: GIF IS NOT MINE, CREDIT TO ORIGINAL OWNERS! YER YER PART 2, the most smuttiest shit i’ve written so far but im here for it. honestly irene is such a bottom in my eyes, perhaps a switch, but i really love the thought of her being wrecked and ruined uwu. she acts so indifferent and standoffish with some people but ik she’s needy and clingy.

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

You held the short woman against the front door of her car, hands roaming every dip and curve of her perfect body. Her lips were on your neck, pressing kisses along your throat as your head was thrown back, breathing heavy and heart pounding at the feeling.

Before that happened though,

Joohyun made haste of her apron and quickly gathered her belongings, closed the store and did whatever necessities that had to be done. The nervousness and excitement of hooking up with the cute stranger from the cafe made her stomach jump, but the latter kept her going. She pushed open the back door that only allowed employee entrance and softly closing it behind her, the crisp air of late October making its way through the opening of her jacket.

“I thought the place closed at 6 p.m., not 6 a.m.” You startled her with your snarky greeting, not even seeing you leaned against the chipped paint of the old shop, radiant in the neon lights of the neighboring shop.

She playfully rolled her eyes, and walked up to you saying, “Impatient are we? I’m seriously so sorry I could’t come out here quick enough, but I’m not trying to lose my job, hon.”

You pushed off the wall and come face to face with her, this time, no counter separating your interactions or your own doubt. She looks up at you, pretty lips slightly parted, waiting for your next move. “By the way,” You start, bringing your hand up and twirling your fingers around her dark locks, slowly rising it up as you speak. “My name is Y/N.” She knew she didn’t need to say her name because it’s always on her apron she wears during work. You reach somewhere near the roots and lightly tighten your grip, letting her know that you’re the one in control. Her soft whimper reaches your ears and you look at her in delight as her eye flutter at your ministrations.

You lean down a steal your first of many kisses of the night from her.

Her lips came nothing close to what you dreamed about; her chapstick smeared across your lips, but you didn’t care because the feel of them against yours were pure heaven. They were so delicate and cushiony, yet you couldn’t savor it for long as you were hungry for more of her delicious taste. Your tongue snaked past her lips and she greedily accepted it, a needier sound resonating from her and the pooling in between her legs were ruining her underwear. Your hands left her smooth hair and instead pushed her stomach to move her back against the wall, never leaving her lips.

Once against the wall, you circled around her hips and down to the roundness of her ass, squeezing hard at the suppleness of it. You relished in more of her sounds and tapped the back of her thighs and she jumped into your waiting arms, hers gripping your shoulders for support. You swear out loud, but more to yourself at how light and tiny she is in your arms.

You press against her, the prominent belt buckle you’re wearing pushing right against her clit, the tiny bundle of nerves sending a jolt of pleasure through her. She whines in your mouth and tries to roll her hips back down on you to feel that same jolt, you smiled against her at her desperation.

She was the first to break the kiss and you mindlessly chased after them, your eyes still closed. You peeled them open, a frown on your face at not feeling those addicting lips on yours. Her eyes were still closed and her lips were shining with your sloppy make out session. She murmured about how cold it was getting, and that her car was parked towards the end of the parking lot. The sun was long gone so you only had whatever illuminated the parking lot as your guide towards her car. You had no problem carrying her light form and shushed her complaints of being heavy with a smothering kiss.

And that’s how you both ended up.

“I thought you were cold?” You panted out, her kisses on your neck never letting up. “My keys are in my pocket.” She continued her assault without a moment wasted, not caring that you’re reaching in her jacket pockets and pulling out the million-and-one key-chains. You pressed the unlock button and you grinned at the sound it made. You put her down to her feet and opened the back car door, you getting in second.

You barely closed the door behind you before she was tugging at the collar of your shirt and pulling you on top of her. You pulled back from her and kept her from rising up with your hand on her shoulder and the other removing your jacket. “Y/N...” She whined up at you, reaching for your shirt. “What happened to patience hon? So needy.” She huffed out in mild annoyance as she began work on her own jacket, but her cheeks tinted at your accusation.

You didn’t waste anytime taking off her shirt and work slacks, admiring her figure as you go. She shivered from the the look in your eyes and pushed away at the insecure thoughts trying to plague her. It was all forgotten anyway when she felt your fingers directly on her throbbing clit and the other holding under her knee to keep her open. She gasped out a whimper, widening her legs for you.

“You’re soaked like this and all we did was kiss?” You stroked her pussy, circling your fingers up to her neglected clit and made sure to store the sound of her wetness forever in your mind. She had her eyes closed and was massaging her breasts at how good you were making her feel, moaning and moaning for more.

You hovered over her and placed your lips back over hers before plunging one of your fingers in to her wet core, her cries drowned out by your kisses. You roughly sucked on her bottom lip, her eyes screwed shut at now two fingers relentlessly thrusting into her. She mewled put your name, and rolled her hips along to the pace of your fingers, desperate for her release. “I wanna cum, Y/N please let me cum” She begged for you, and oh did it turn you on like never before.

“Look at me honey, let me tell you something.” She was panting now, holding onto your wrist flicking up into her and her eyes were glazed over in bliss, but she held your smoldering gaze. “I’ve wanted to have you under me, a panting, moaning,” curling your fingers repeatedly, you continued “pathetic mess for so long,” She wailed and you could tell she was close from her tightening her walls around you. You sped up your pace and rubbed her clit with your thumb, almost cumming yourself from the wanton moans she let out for you, pleading for you not to stop. Her thighs were trembling around you and you urged her to cum, adding another finger to her pleasure.

But you were wicked. You slowed down your pace, and she swore you were the devil when she slowly feels her orgasm being denied, but she still felt it there.

“I could only imagine what you’d sound like with my fingers so deep inside you, fucking you so good,” Your pace was slow and punishing, tears welling up at the corner of her eyes threatening to spill. You chuckled darkly at her, enjoying the sight.

You took the hand holding her leg and pinched her nipple before taking the hard bud in your mouth, sucking on the soft and taut skin like you were born for it. “Are you gonna cum on my fingers doll? Gonna make a mess all over my hand and this seat?” You rested your head in the crook of her neck and sucked dark bruises over her porcelain skin, easily finding the sweet spot below her ear.

“Oh- fuck, I can’t. Please let me cum” She had her bottom lip between her teeth, holding in her cries as a few tears rolled down her pretty face. You gave in and slid the hand on her breasts down to her clit and rubbed hard and fast, the fingers insider her picking up their previous pace. “I wish you could see yourself, pretty girl. Already so fucking ruined and I’ve barely even started.” She raked her nails down your clothed back and bunched it in her fists, and the stinging sensation only prompted you to send her over the edge with whispered praises in her ears.

She screamed your name and you kissed the tears of pleasure rolling down her dough cheeks. You immediately pulled you fingers out and sucked off her essence looking right in her eyes, moaning at the taste, Joohyun watching you and instantly feeling the arousal pooling up again.

She watched you pop your saliva coated fingers out your mouth and waited for them to enter hers. Her lips wrapped around yours and she closed her eyes and fawned in the way you called her a good girl for taking them down her throat. You pulled the digits out and kissed your way down her body, sucking and kissing as you go. You reached your destination over her soaking pussy and pushed her legs open and holding the backs of her thighs. She leaned up on her elbows and glanced down at you in between her legs, wanting to watch you eat the life out of her.

You ducked down maintaining eye contact for a maximum of 5 seconds as you gathered spit on your tongue and let it drip on her cunt, making her wetter than before. You licked a thick line up her sensitive heat and moaned into her, never before tasting something as delicious as Ms. Bae Joohyun. honey. she was so fucking sweet on your tongue, you never wanted to taste anything again. You circled your arms around her thighs, forcing them to stay open.

Joohyun had no choice but to accept what you gave her, flopping back on the seat moaning loudly and whimpering from the slight sensitivity from orgasming just 2 minutes ago. You fucked your tongue in and out of her core, licking into her velvety walls before licking up and sucking on her clit before doing it all over again. The receiver could barely form coherent sentences, back arching off the damp seat and hands fisted in her own hair.

You flicked your tongue against her and brought her to her second orgasm of the night, stars behind her eye lids from squeezing them so tight. She thought she could catch a break but your tongue never stopped it’s assault on her sensitive womanhood. She was the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen, the neon lights giving her an out of this world look. You watched her beg and fall apart underneath you, her hand tugging at your head, not knowing whether to push it away or keep it there from. You lifted your head off her cunt, but not before replacing them with three of your fingers, pumping them in her at a tantalizing speed.

You looked at her hungrily, loving the way she cried at the overstimulation and the pleasure and pain it brought her. She sobbed and moaned, but her body betrayed her words, her hips rolling on your fingers and her continued arousal leaking out of her, so desperate for another release. “You’re such a good girl for me baby. So, so good.” You praised, then lightly kissed her thighs back up to her engorged clit, taking it into your mouth and circling your tense muscle around it. She tried to watch you through her tear-soaked lashes and listened to the slurping sounds you made.

You reached your unused hand up and wrapped them around her throat, applying the right amount of pressure to make her feel light-headed. She held both hands around the wrist around her neck to keep her self anchored to this world, because she knows for a fact she’s going to pass out when she comes.

Her body shook and this orgasm was building up fast and hard. This was unlike the others and she moaned a high-pitch moan, over and over, hips bucking into your mouth uncontrollably. “Come on baby, cum for me, I want you dripping down my face.” You encouraged her, knowing you put her through denial and overstimulation, you just wanted to finally reward her. You sucked harshly on her clit and curled into her g-spot one last time before she was seeing white and the entirety of your face was wet. She sobbed and whined through her orgasm and fell limp against the back seat.

You cautiously licked her through her comedown, amazed that she squirted all over you like that. You found an unused tissue from the passenger seat pockets and wiped your face.

Joohyun was sound asleep, probably passed out from such an intense orgasm. She was the epitome of an angel laying there in her naked glory, full breast rising and falling with every breath and her smooth skin shining from sweat.

You pulled your jacket back on and began dressing her in her clothes. You kept the underwear for yourself. She stirred in her sleep and opened her eyes at you, completely fucked out and sedated.

“Well rise and shine pretty girl, how are you feeling? Was it too much?” You cupped her cheek and she keened at your touch, sighing into your hand. “It was everything I needed and more, Y/N. I’m embarrassed to say this but nobody’s ever made me feel as good as you did.” She tiredly smiles up at you before contently sighing to herself.

She was flushed red and dozing off again but this time you laid her against you, letting her curl up onto your slightly bigger form, her tiny body wrapped up on top of you. Her head laid on your breast, a makeshift pillow for the woman sleeping soundly in your arms.

You leaned back against the window, closing your eyes in agony, knowing that you completely neglected your needs and are still so wet and aching in your pants.

But you’d do anything for the cafe worker in your arms. She’s always going to come first in any and every way. So instead of dwelling on your want, you massage your fingers in her hair and drift to sleep with her.

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lovemollywho · 5 years ago

Text

Thoughts of the Past - Reimagined

Alright fair warning, this is a lot more angsty (?) than the other chapters, and I am not sorry about it.

CW: Angst...like I’m not kidding this hurt to write

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

When Lorcan walked into the gallery with Aelin and Rowan he was greeted by a friendly staff member who directed him how the show should be viewed. She handed all three of them a pamphlet that contained the artwork and prices for the pieces that were for sale, mentioning that the proceeds tonight benefited public schools in the area keep their art programs. Aelin thanked the staff member and whispered something to Rowan who nodded before she slipped away.

“Aelin is going to look for Elide, do you want to come with us or…?”

“No,” Lorcan responded. “I’m gonna look at the pieces that Elide did. I should,” he cleared his throat, “I should appreciate them, I mean her,” he sighed, “I mean the art.”

Rowan chuckled slightly as his friends' nervousness, nodded and followed after Aelin. Lorcan nodded at the staff member and followed a couple of people who were walking into the first part of Elide’s show and stopped.

All the air that he had left his body.

The first portrait he saw was of him. It was of him sitting on a curb, elbows braced on knees, a lit cigarette in one hand and a bottle of Jack in the other. His hair was windblown around his face and he was smiling.

He got closer to the painting and looked at the label, First Smile, Oil, and Acrylic on Canvas, 18 x 24, Elide Lochan.

Lorcan looked at the painting closely, there were some parts of the painting that were blurred or out of focus - his eyes, for instance, were squinted from the smile on his face but were painted in a way that looked like they were painted over. The main focus was his smile though, everything from the cigarette that was placed in his hand near his mouth, to certain windblown strands of his hair. But the title. First smile?

This portrait reminded him or so many days spent with Elide or even Rowan that he couldn’t pinpoint where or when this portrait was supposed to take place. He decided to move forward and was confused by a banner reading ‘Once upon a time’. Looking at the pamphlet that the staff member had given him he found that the exhibit was split into five parts that told an overall story.

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

“Ellie, wait please.” Aelin followed Elide into the bathroom that was near the bar. “You just said that you wished he was here.”

Elide was pacing in front of the sinks, “I know what I said,” she moved to take her hair out of a ponytail and into a bun before remembering that her hair was styled so she did the next best thing - she washed her hands….furiously.

“I said it in a way that any person wishes to stumble across their ex to show off that they are doing really well without them.”

“Well that’s definitely the case here.” Aelin sighed handing her a couple of paper towels to dry off her hands.

“I don’t think,” Elide sighed, balling up the paper towels and throwing them away, “I don’t know if I want to talk to him.”

Aelin walked over to the settee couch that was placed in the bathroom for the exact reason of having secret, deep, or meaningful conversations. “Listen,” she said patting the spot next to her, “I am on your side no matter what, I need you to understand that. Okay?” Elide sighed and sat next to Aelin. “I’m not going to like what comes out of your mouth, am I?” She asked crossing her arms. Aelin huffed a laugh, “Probably not, but you need to hear it anyway.” Elide took a deep breath and motioned for Aelin to continue.

“Lorcan and I were never destined to be friends.” Elide’s head shot up to Aelin’s face. “I have never met anyone that was objectively more of a pain in the ass than I could be on any given day. He is moody as hell, standoffish, and he’s about as nice as a carnivorous plant.” Elide opened her mouth to say something but Aelin held up a finger telling her to wait.

“Still, I could see the way he looked at you and knew that if anyone could help smooth the edges of his soul it would be you.”

Elide lifted her face and began to try to blink back tears. Still looking at the ceiling she responded. “It is not my job to fix him.” The words came out sharper than she had intended especially because she knew that Aelin’s words were coming from a good place. Aelin’s hand took hers. “I know that. That wasn’t what I was trying to say. I only meant that...” Aelin sighed. “There is something that I’m not supposed to tell you. In fact, I don’t think I’m even supposed to know but Rowan told me and even if I can stand Lorcan now, doesn’t mean I have that much loyalty to him.” Elide brought her index finger to gently dab under her eye, careful not to ruin her makeup. Aelin stood up and grabbed the box of tissues next to the sink before sitting down again.

“What is it?” Elide asked.

And then Aelin explained that for the past month and a half since Elide had left, Lorcan had been going to AA meetings with Rowan and with the couple’s help was not only going to therapy but also had quit his in cybersecurity and gotten a new one working in software engineering, finally accepting Rowan’s offer to put his degree to work. That not only was he and Rowan finally working together after all this time but that they were developing a program that would help the families in Terrasen easily find resources to help them within their communities anonymously so that they didn’t have to worry about seeming weak or being judged.

“I don’t...understand.” Elide said slowly once Aelin was done talking. “I mean it��s not like I didn’t know that Lorcan was capable of doing amazing things but I just don’t understand why now.” Elide grabbed another tissue and blew her nose.

“I think he’s just trying to show you that he’s changed...or I guess changing would be a better way to describe it.”

“He hasn’t called me once A. The only time I’ve talked to him was when I asked to meet him so he could sign the disclosure release.”

“I don’t have all the answers El. Talk to him, don’t talk to him. You broke up with him for a reason, and if you decide to ignore him for the rest of the night that’s is 100% complete valid, Ro and I will keep him away from you. However, if there is just some tiny part of you that doubts or second guesses whether or not you made the right decision in leaving, take this chance to make sure.” Aelin handed Elide the small clutch she came in with. “Inside are wet wipes, mascara, eyeliner and lip gloss. Fix yourself up, I’m going to look at your art.” Aelin stood up and checked herself in the mirror.

“This is your night babe, you’re a badass with a great ass.” Aelin winked at Elide who let out a small laugh before heading out of the bathroom.

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

Lorcan may not have known much about art but he knew the story that was being told. It was his story, seen through Elide’s eyes and admired by the random strangers who were here. He heard some people discussing how this was not only an impressive collection of work but also a change of pace from her usual pieces, combining a variety of mixed media with paintings. Lorcan kept his ears open for remarks made about the pieces if only so he could understand and mimic key phrases that the people around him used, but it was hard when he knew the story behind Elide’s art and not just a theory of what it was about.

Five sections; The Beginning, The Sex, The Love, The Pain, The Future.

Walking through The Beginning was like a blast from the past. Every bit was a memory or story that he had experienced with Elide. Four 16x40 inch black canvases had bubbles blowing through each, and while you couldn’t tell who was blowing the bubbles, Lorcan knew that it was Elide’s hand. Hidden within the bubbles were little clues about their relationship, so minuscule that no one but him knew. They would just see a Farris Wheel, a teddy bear, a popcorn container, and a rocking chair.

“There seems to be a reoccurring theme of security in each of these pieces, don’t’ you think?” Lorcan overheard a couple talking.

“I was thinking the same thing, like this piece over here with the lightbulbs, and how each time someone gets close to it they turn on. Like that’s such great imagery to being safe. Parents turning on a night light during bedtime, coming home from a long day and the lights are on because your significant partner is already inside. Or even the painting that used gum wrappers, is reminiscent of childhood.” The couple began to walk down to look at other pieces and Lorcan couldn’t help but follow them with their eyes. Was that how Elide saw him? As something safe to come home to at the end of the day? There were times at the beginning of their relationship when she said she would rather be with him than go home. When they first met he knew that she had just moved out of her Uncle’s house. Aelin always got a dark look in her eyes whenever Vernon was mentioned but Elide had never said anything….and like an idiot he had never asked.

He continued walking.

The next part of the exhibit - The Sex, was a much different layout. The lights were dim to highlight the use of neon lights and blacklight paints. The pieces in this part of the collection were bigger and took up more space but there was a rhythm here that could be felt. The paintings are more obscure and vague here, less of the innocence that was seen in the beginning, but if this was still following his and Elide’s relationship - as he was now finally figuring it was, the sex had never been the problem in their relationship. They could always find each other in bed...or the couch...or the kitchen island...or...well you get the point. Words and feelings that he could never say allowed were whispered onto her skin in breathy moans or grunts. The way he would breathe out praises to the Gods when she was on her knees before him. Lorcan shook out the thoughts and continued past this collection, trying to block out the fact that Elide had basically put their sex life on display even if he was the only one who knew.

The Love was a much brighter place, golds and yellows blended with pinks and lilac colors. There were symbols of holiness and domesticity in portraits. But as Lorcan moved through the collection he saw blackness creeping in. At first, it was small, used only for details or outlining, but as he walked, it started to grow in shadows and on the edges, starting to look like mistakes or spilled ink. Lorcan could feel his heart beginning to race and then he was moving past a heavy, thick black curtain into a pitch-black room. He could vaguely make out the other people in the room with him who were standing - and listening.

Overhead, playing on unseen speakers, was a couple fighting. Not just any couple - him and Elide.

“I’ve only had like one drink.” He heard himself slur. Elide huffed out a laugh. “One? Try again, there are four bottles lying next to you.”

“They were all basically empty, I don’t even know why you’re upset.”

“You were supposed to meet me at the restaurant!” Elide said. Her voice sounded tight, she wasn’t yelling at him - that was something that Lorcan was remembering, she never really yelled at him.

“I didn’t want to go! They all would have judged me anyway, I had a long day, and if I wanted a drink then I was going to have one in the comfort of my own home.”

“Who would have judged you? No one would have judged you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Then the audio changed. Eldie was crying on the phone. “I just don’t know what to do, I keep trying to talk to him but it’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore. I come home and he doesn’t even respond when I say hello.” She sniffed. “Every time I try to talk to him we always get into a fight, I’m so...I’m so tired of fighting with him. I’m just so….so tired. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“I just don’t get it,” Aelin’s voice filtered through, “...says he’s the most loyal person that he knows.” The audio cut off Rowan’s name, but Lorcan knew. “Listen, why don’t you come and stay with us a couple of days?”

It got quiet in the room and Lorcan heard some people leaving. After a while, the audio started up again. The argument was different this time, but it ended with Lorcan dismissing Elide and her accusations and her walking away or crying. Some of the audio was done journal entry style, where she explained her thoughts and fears, of how every time they got into a fight she felt like she wasn’t what Lorcan wanted or how she felt he didn’t love her anymore. Some of the audio was them making up, him apologizing, and her saying that it was okay. That she understood. That she loved him, of course, she loved him. Him promising that it was going to be better - that he was going to be better. And then another fight would happen.

She never used his name though. He knew it was on purpose, that despite having him sign a disclosure, he knew that he wanted everyone to feel the experience with her, and by adding names it took the audience out of that experience, it was why even Rowan’s name was censored out. He stood in that room for a while, listening to the fights that had been recorded over and over, hearing them sober and knowing just how deeply he fucked up. He knew now why Elide hadn’t accepted his apology at the coffee shop, understood that he had already apologized and that it hadn’t changed anything.

He finally walked out of The Pain section, although a part of him had just wanted to stay in there and torment himself.

At first, Lorcan thought that he had finished the exhibit, before remembering that there was one final part, The Future. There were blank canvases on the wall, and Lorcan could feel Elide’s emotion with each one he passed. The uncertainty, the fear of the unknown, the lack of assurance and confidence. Everything that he had ever felt throughout their relationship, he was beginning to understand that she felt too.

Stupid, idiot, asshole.

He was so blinded by his own insecurities that he didn’t even think about Elide’s. She had always been there for him, but he had never been there for her. Not in the way that it mattered. There was one final piece on the wall, he could hear the chatter of polite conversation around the corner, where he knew he would find food and drinks for the people who came tonight. It was a wall covered in pictures and painted over. Some like Aelin’s and Manon’s were untouched by paint. Others like Fenrys and Rowan had almost little to none and some were completely painted over in black, in the center was a plain canvas like the ones leading up to this, but the one that Lorcan couldn’t take his eyes off of was the one of his face.

It wasn’t completely painted over, but it had more paint on it than others. The picture was blurry and convoluted, the paint on outlining his face. As if Elide had wanted to keep the picture but wanted to symbolize that she was unsure of whether or not to let him go completely.

And that gave him hope. He couldn’t stop staring at the picture. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there but he saw Rowan appear in his peripheral.

“What are you thinking?” His friend asked.

Lorcan released a long breath. “That I never deserved her, and that I’m an ass for putting her through everything.” Lorcan started to fidget with the ribbon hair tie on his wrist. “I messed up so bad Rowan. I will never be able to make this up to her. It would be better if I just left her alone.” Rowan placed a hand on Lorcan’s shoulder.

“The main goal tonight wasn’t to have her get back with you. In fact, the main goal tonight wasn’t for you to even talk to her, not really. It was to step up and offer the silent support that she needed from you. You two could never talk again, but you coming to her show tonight is going to mean a lot to her regardless of how much you fucked up.”

“What if I only made her hate me more?” Lorcan asked.

“Then she’s entitled to her feelings. You cannot tell her what to feel, but just make sure that the next time she talks, you listen.” Lorcan nodded, still looking at the final artwork.

“I’m gonna get a soda, do you want one?” Lorcan shook his head, and continued to stare. A couple of moments later he felt a presence coming up to him.

“Actually, I do want that drink.” Lorcan said.

“Aelin said you weren’t drinking anymore.” The voice responded. Lorcan stiffened and turned to look at Elide who was staring at him with hesitancy in her eyes.

Tags:

@nalgenewhore @safewithintheheart @bibliophileaddict

@acer6437 @tswaney17 @starseternalnighttriumphant @bat-wing-rhys

Let me know if you want to be tagged <3

#thoughts of the past #Throne of Glass #lorcan x elide #Thoughts of the Past Four #Am I sorry for this chapter #only slightly

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ripley95 · 5 years ago

Text

Echoes of Old Embers

Chapter 8

Pairing: F!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko

Rating: T

Chapter length: 2.9K

Story Synopsis:

After surviving the war, one of Shepard’s biggest regrets was rejecting Kaidan at Apollo’s. Fate has a way of bringing Jane and Kaidan back into each other’s lives. A misunderstanding with his family makes Kaidan and Shepard relive old history and question where they stand.

Link to Chapter 1 on AO3

Chapter Synopsis:

Shepard has some bonding time with all of Kaidan’s sisters, leaving her with more regrets. Shepard and Libby work through their differences.

Link to Chapter 8 on AO3

Tumblr Links:

Read the chapter here below the cut:

Raiya and Shepard made their way upstairs after finishing their coffee on the porch. Raiya still hadn’t elaborated on her plan to get Shepard on Libby’s good side. The house was still silent. None of the other Alenkos had woken up yet. Shepard was starting to fear that Raiya was about to wake Libby up to moderate some harsh discussion between the two of them. Sometimes the direct approach was the best, but Shepard wasn’t too keen on the idea, scared that waking her up in such a way would do nothing to sway Libby. Her fears were quickly alleviated when they ended up in front of Maisie’s door instead.

Raiya barged right in without so much as a single knock, and sat down gently on the bed next to Maisie.

“She sleeps like a rock, so hopefully she’ll want to wake up,” Raiya said, looking at Shepard before prodding her sister on the shoulder to no avail. “I’m sure if she knew Commander Shepard was in need of her help, she’d be more interested,” Raiya said, with a raised voice this time, while fully shaking Maisie’s shoulder this time.

“Uuuggghhh,” Maisie said, while rolling over, still not bothering to open her eyes. “Someone better be dying,” she groaned out.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m afraid not.”

“What do you want, then?” she said, basically slurring her speech with how tired she was.

“Jane’s here, and we need your help.”

Her eyes jolted open, and she looked towards her doorway to see Shepard standing there, waving as a greeting. Maisie promptly sat up, wondering what was going on.

“What is it?! What do you need?”

“Do you have any of that hair dye left?” Raiya asked, pointing to Maisie’s hair.

“Hair dye? That’s it? That’s what you had to wake me up for?” she asked, clearly irritated.

“Sorry. I know it doesn’t seem like something worthy of being woken up for, but I didn’t want to use any without your permission, and we’re kind of on a time crunch.”

Maisie looked over to Shepard now, with an entertained grin on her face. “Why? Trying to disappear from the Alliance, so you can run off with Kaidan or something?” Clearly, her imagination had already run wild with ideas.

“Jeez, Maisie, why are you always so dramatic?”

“I’m not dramatic,” she said, looking scornfully at her sister. “You’re just boring.”

Shepard held back a laugh, contemplating once again what a life with siblings must have been like. It was certainly interesting from this side of the conversation, at least.

“So, if it’s nothing so dramatic,” she said with an emphasised distaste of the word, “what was so dire that you had to wake me up?”

“You saw Libby yesterday. She was practically seething at Jane.”

“You could say that again.”

“Yeah, well, the wedding is tomorrow already, but I think I’ve figured out a way to extend an olive branch.”

“By dying Shepard’s hair?”

“Well, Libby’s problem with Jane being here is that she’s too recognizable, and she doesn’t want the attention taken off of her on her big day, right? So maybe if we make her not look so much like ‘Commander Shepard,’ Libby won’t have to worry about that.”

“Hmm. Yeah, okay, maybe that’ll work.”

Shepard still hadn’t even gotten a word in edgewise, but she had to admit that the idea sounded promising. At the very least, it wouldn’t hurt anything, so it was worth a shot.

“Great, so do you still have any?”

“Psht, of course.”

“Well, can we use it?”

“Use it? Come on. I’ll even do it for you,” she said as she flung the covers off of herself, shoving her way past Shepard, still standing in the doorway.

She walked across the hall, into the bathroom, and started rummaging around in the cupboards, Raiya and Jane following after her.

“Oooh, I think you’d look good with this,” she said, holding up a box of what looked like the rest of the blue dye she must have used in her most recent colour change.

“The point is to draw less attention to her, Maisie. Don’t you have anything a bit more basic?”

“Ugh, yeah, fine,” she said, going back to the cupboards to rummage around again. She stood up with a box in her hand, showing them the new option. “Here. I think this is about as opposite as it’s going to get while still looking natural.”

“I think that’ll work,” Shepard said, taking the box and turning it over in her hand, sounding pleased. “How long does this stuff last, exactly?”

Maisie laughed at that, eliciting a slightly worried gaze from Shepard.

“Oh, you’re serious? It’s permanent, so until your hair grows out.”

“Of course it is,” she said, slightly exasperated, handing the box back to Maisie. “Oh well. It’s not a big deal. I really don’t like the thought of ruining Libby’s wedding, so whatever it takes.”

“Well, if you don’t like the colour, we can always dye it blue after the wedding,” Maisie said teasingly as she opened the box.

As she studied herself in the mirror, Shepard had to admit it was a pretty substantial difference. She was rather pleased with the outcome, hoping it was enough to make Libby feel better.

“It looks good,” Raiya said from behind her.

“Yeah? You don’t think I’m too recognizable still?”

“I mean, you do have a pretty recognizable face,” Maisie said.

“People only really know you as a soldier, though. Maybe with some makeup and a dress, most people won’t even notice,” Raiya said.

“Hopefully,” Shepard agreed.

“My husband will be arriving later today. I didn’t get a chance to tell him that you were Kaidan’s date, so he can be our first test subject to see if this might actually work,” Raiya said with a laugh.

“Ooh, that’ll be fun,” Maisie said from behind them, as she started cleaning up all the supplies. “Make sure I’m in the room for that!”

“Sure thing,” Raiya said with a smile.

“I think I actually forgot you were married,” Shepard said, looking back towards Raiya.

“Yeah, almost 8 years now. He’s a teacher. He’s set up a school closer to our house. He’s trying to provide structure for all of the kids in town again since the war ended, so he wanted to wait to come here until a little closer to the wedding. He’ll be bringing Austin, too.”

“Your son?” Shepard asked. She vaguely remembered Kaidan telling her something about a nephew during their time together on the Normandy.

“Yup,” Raiya said with a smile. “But anyway, I think this could do the trick.”

“Unless people are a little too curious about Kaidan finally bringing someone home that they start asking a ton of questions,” Maisie said.

“I guess that’s a possibility. At least this is something, though, right? Maybe it’ll at least make sure the ceremony goes well since people won’t get a chance to mingle until the reception for the most part.”

“It’s not like I’m going to introduce myself as Commander Shepard at a wedding,” she cut in.

That made Maisie laugh. “Could you imagine? That would be hilarious. That is a good point, though. We didn’t even know you by your first name, so if you introduce yourself as Jane, maybe this actually has a good chance of working.”

“See, now we just have to get Libby on board. I’m sure she’s awake by now. Probably best to rip the bandaid off and get it over with, right?”

“I’ll go check if she’s up,” Maisie said, running over to her door and knocking urgently, Raiya and Shepard following after.

“What?!” came a yell from the other side.

“It’s Maisie, can I come in?”

“Yeah, fine,” they heard from the other side.

Maisie opened the door, and all but shoved Shepard into the room before closing it on the two of them.

Shepard heard a “Wow, Maisie, really?” from behind the door, followed by a “Yeah, it’s better to let them deal with it by themselves.”

Shepard would have preferred to deal with this herself anyway, but she might have liked a smoother entrance. Now she was left a little dumbfounded, standing by the door. Libby was sitting in front of a vanity, putting makeup on. The commotion made her look in the mirror towards the door to see what was going on. Shepard made eye contact with her through the reflection and gave a subtle wave.

“Um, hi,” Shepard said, still caught slightly off guard. “Sorry about that, but I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute. Not exactly the way I would have gone about it, but here we are.”

Libby took a good look at Shepard through the mirror before letting out a sigh and turning around. “Yeah, Maisie can be... forceful,” she said, pointing towards the end of the bed, her way of telling Shepard she could have a seat.

Shepard smiled in acceptance, and went to sit on the bed across from her. She was pleased by the fact that Libby didn’t sound too annoyed.

“Did you do that for me?” Libby asked, pointing to Shepard’s hair, immediately recognizing the gesture.

“Yeah. Listen, I really feel like I need to apologise. I never joined the Alliance intending to be in the spotlight. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that I’m this public figure, especially when I’m just trying to live my life, you know? The last thing I ever wanted to do was ruin your wedding.”

Libby shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re the one apologising.”

“What?”

“Oh, come on. I think we both know I was pretty terrible to you yesterday.”

“I think I just took everyone by surprise.”

“You’re too kind. I know it wasn’t my finest moment. None of this was your fault. There’s no excuse for me being so standoffish. I’m sorry about that. My reaction wasn’t even really about you, to be honest.”

Shepard nodded slowly, accepting the apology, sensing the tension easing between them slightly. “Wait, so are you telling me I did this for nothing?” she said, pointing to her hair, laughing.

That elicited a laugh from Libby, too. “Well, not for nothing, I guess. I appreciate you wanting to make a peace offering. And honestly, I could see that creating less of an upheaval throughout the wedding, so I’m still grateful that you did it. I’m just sorry that you felt like you had to,” she said, a little more solemnly.

“Don’t worry about it. I can always change it back or let it grow out. It’s just hair dye. It’s not a big deal.”

Libby forced a smile at that.

“Hey, I know we only just met, but if you want to talk about it, or need extra help or anything, I’m not just here to be a bystander.”

“Thanks,” she said, looking down at her hands. “It’s just that nothing about this wedding is going how I expected it to. I think seeing you yesterday was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Shepard nodded, perceiving that there was a larger issue going on. “I can understand that. But hey, you don’t owe me an explanation. I know this must be a stressful time for you.”

Libby huffed out a sigh. “You could say that again. And I may not owe you an explanation, but after the way I treated you yesterday, I kind of feel like that’s the least I can offer you. You probably didn’t know this, but I was supposed to be getting married the same week the reapers landed.”

That suddenly made a lot of sense. Of course, all of her original plans would have gone flying out the window.

“The whole family was here. Kaidan was even in Vancouver for work, and the timing was perfect since he wasn’t assigned to be off-planet for a while. It was going to be the first big family celebration since Raiya’s wedding. Dad was here…” she trailed off.

And of course, now he wasn’t. Shepard hung her head, understanding the significance of everything that had changed for Libby.

“Derek, my fiancé, enlisted almost immediately after the reapers landed, otherwise we might have just eloped. He and my dad were both shipped out so quickly, we didn’t even have the chance. Obviously, Derek made it through to the end of the war just fine, but we ended up holding it off for so long now. Things have been rough with the rebuilding efforts, and Derek has been shipped out on duty more often than not, making it hard to plan anything. Kaidan was missing for so long, and Dad’s status was officially changed to KIA. The entire family was so distraught that we didn’t particularly feel like having a wedding for a while after the war.”

“But then when Kaidan finally made it back,” Libby continued with a smile. “Everyone was so happy. There was finally a reason to celebrate something again, and I kind of thought that a wedding was a perfect excuse to get everyone together and be happy for once. But nothing feels happy right now. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still thrilled that Derek and I are finally getting married. We’ve been waiting for so long. But nothing else feels right about it. It feels so trivial to be doing something like this when the galaxy is still rebuilding. It feels wrong, trying to celebrate when there are people that were supposed to be here, but aren’t. Dad should be here,” she said, letting out a sigh and rubbing her forehead.

“Obviously, none of this is your fault,” she amended quickly. “But I guess something about seeing you felt like it was just another wrench being thrown into my plans. It really shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. I think everything’s just been getting to me. I haven’t seen Derek for months. He wanted to help with all of this, but we decided it would be nicer to spend quality time together after the wedding rather than wasting all of our time together planning it, so we timed his leave around that. I miss him. I miss my dad. With the weight of it all… well, I guess I just overreacted,” she said as she turned back toward the vanity, looking regretful.

“Libby,” Shepard said softly to gain her attention again. “I know nothing I can say can fix everything you’re going through, but I think if there’s one lesson that we can all learn from this war, it’s that we shouldn’t squander these chances to celebrate the good things in life. I didn’t know your dad, but he seemed like a good man who valued his family more than anything. I know this is easier said than done, but I think he’d want you to be happy and enjoy your life.”

Libby nodded, and turned back towards the vanity. Shepard took that to mean that Libby likely wanted some privacy, so she stood up from the bed. Before moving to leave, she went to put her hand on Libby’s shoulder as a sign of comfort.

“You don’t have to feel guilty for being happy about something so important to you.”

Libby looked up at her in the mirror and gave her a weak smile. She squeezed Shepard’s hand with appreciation.

Jane took that as her cue to leave. Right as she was about to go through the door, Libby spoke up one last time.

“Thanks, Jane,” she said, watching Jane’s face through the mirror.

“Any time,” she said genuinely. “And hey, if this doesn’t do the trick,” she said, pointing to her hair, “Then I’ll just excuse myself to try to make things as easy for you as possible.”

Libby huffed out a laugh as her smile turned into something more authentic. “It’s okay, Jane. I’m not going to make you do that, even if you do cause a scene.”

Shepard nodded in acceptance. She was glad that Libby wasn’t actually mad at her, at least.

“No hard feelings, I hope?” Libby continued.

“Of course not. I’m just glad we got to clear the air.”

“Thanks for the talk,” Libby said. “Damn, you really are diplomatic, aren’t you?”

Shepard grinned. “So I hear.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Libby said in thanks.

“Don’t mention it,” Shepard said, taking that as her cue to leave, closing the door behind her to grant Libby some privacy.

As she closed the door, she stood in front of it silently in contemplation. It was good that she managed to fix so much, yet she was worried about the ever-growing hole she was digging herself into with everyone thinking she and Kaidan are in a relationship. It was almost easier when she thought that Libby and Raiya really didn’t like her. It would have been so much more simple to go back to her life without Kaidan, thinking that his family at least wasn’t fond of her. But now their whole mishap had gotten so out of hand. Libby was apologising, and Raiya was giving her a second chance. Kaidan’s family was nice. Too nice. She could already feel them weaselling their way into her heart just like he had. It was bad enough having feelings for Kaidan, but now she could feel herself beginning to care about his whole family.

‘It’ll all be over soon,’ she reminded herself, as she finally decided to move somewhere that wasn’t right in front of Libby’s door. One way or another, it was true, and that damn saying would become her mantra.

#f!Shenko #f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko #f!Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #mass effect #fanfiction #mass effect fanfiction #mini slow burn #angst #friends to lovers #accidental dating #my fic on tumblr #my writing

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jw231992 · 5 years ago

Text

Danganronpa: Despair Time

(ダンガンロンパ:絶望のタイム)

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First of, I just want to say that this is a fanganronpa that I recently found thanks to Moboxer, the head of what is known as Danganronpa: Kill/Cure. I want to do an analysis of that one soon, but this one I figured would be a good start. So, like the series we've come to know and love, Danganronpa: Despair Time is a series where a group of high school students are trapped in a building and must commit a murder to get out of their situation. With the prologue being released just now, we can get a feel for the characters, and maybe some of my predictions will be right? Who knows. Without further ado, let's get into it.

We will start with the main female lead, Teruko Tawaki, the Ultimate Lucky Student. She's seemingly plain, but not Tsumugi Shirogane plain. I really like the hair color she has going on, and I can't accurately tell what color it is, due to me being colorblind, but I believe it's brown going into gray ends. What also sets her apart from previous Danganronpas is that most of the leads are male. Ones like Danganronpa: the After and Danganronpa REbirth both have female leads which I find very refreshing and would like to see the killing game from a female perspective. The thing that also seemed to stick out to me was how she says she was cursed with bad luck, much like Makoto Naegi feels he was in the first game. It also gives me a sense of sadness, much like Qrow Branwen of the RWBY series and his semblance of always bring bad luck to those around him. As of right now, I can't say too much else about her, but as the main character, I feel she would be a survivor. She'll make it to the end and stop the televised killing game (more on this for another character.)

Alexander Matthews, or Xander, is the Ultimate Rebel. He definitely gives of a Kaito Momota vibe from how he confronts those that insult him, but he also has a very friendly demeanor. So because of this, I am giving him the title of Best Boy, because we all need a Best Boy and a Best Girl. According to the series, his talent isn't so much as being a troublemaker, but moreso taking a stand against what he doesn't like and wants to improve for the better. Honestly, maybe Revolutionist or Protestor would have been a better title? Maybe, but Rebel also has a nice flair to it, so we'll go with what the creator intended. His red hair also gives him a fiery feel, which is what I've come to expect from the Best Boys of the games and fangans. The sad part is, I see him dying in the fifth chapter as a culprit. Probably something he didn't even mean to do or something he didn't want to do, a heartbreaking chapter. But the series isn't fully out to the public yet, so we can't say for certain.

Eden Tobisa, the Ultimate Clockmaker. She's adorable, soft, and I just wanna protect this innocent cinnamon bun. That being said, I don't think she is the one that would get the Best Girl status. A lot of her sprites are pretty cutesy, much like a cat, which seems to be a running theme within this fangan. Or I may just dig a little too deep and find stuff that really isn't there. She gives me a big Chihiro Fujisaki vibe, and would love to see this character being explored more. However, it kind of breaks my heart to say she's probably not going to make it, and I believe she would be the Chapter 1 victim. Like I said, she's small and soft, and makes for an easy victim, but I would definitely love seeing an execution if she ends up being the culprit in a case. Probably something sad and gruesome like her being crushed between a few clockwork gears.

So I wanna say this right off the bat, and I'm sure anyone that saw this girl's talent was like, "What the actual hell is a Zither?!" Thank goodness they tell us what it is and I appreciate learning new things. That being said, this is Hu Jing, the Ultimate Zither Player. Her demeanor gives me a slight Kirumi Tojo vibe, especially given the sprite that I took of her. The way she speaks is amazing and I want to see more. I am probably being way too premature about this, but I have wholeheartedly given her the additional title of Best Girl. She may not have a lot to bring to the table as a Zither player but playing instruments takes dedication and I can speak from experience. Not all instruments are easy to play so learning exotic instruments is that much harder. I also say that she's going to be a survivor as well, making it to the end of the killing game but if not, she'll more than likely be a victim.

Here we have J Moreno, the Ultimate Effects Artist, a talent I can also really appreciate. According to the series, J is a nickname but she gets flustered and doesn't exactly say what that nickname is, which may actually come up later during a trial or some form of Free-Time Event. She also seems to prefer quiet people, as opposed to those who seem flashy or boisterous, like the actors she deals with behind the scenes. I use to be a theatre kid (bring on the TikToks) and whenever I could, I would also attempt to learn tech stuff, namely moving set pieces and the sort, so I have a slight personal connection with this talent. She may have a bit of a standoffish attitude but deep down, I feel she has a heart of gold and would definitely help her friends in a time of need. This sort of demeanor would probably give her more of a Kiyotaka Ishimaru vibe, but not in a "Running in the halls is not welcome in a school environment" kinda feel. More towards the personality. However that assistance may go too far and I feel she is more likely to be a culprit in Chapter 2 of the series. Makes me wonder how the execution of an effects artist will go. We'll see if I'm right.

Oh Jesus. This name is gonna be the death of me, but meet Veronika Grebenshchikova, the Ultimate Horror Fanatic. As you can probably tell from the screenshot, she loves everything horror, and I really like the hair ties she has on with the eyes. It makes her stand out, and I feel makes it tie her whole outfit together. The outfit also seems to be giving me Celestia Ludenberg vibes, but at least people aren't asking if she's Japanese. When I first saw her, I thought she would be some form of Optometrist or something but I'm glad she's a horror fanatic. I, too, also happen to like horror pop culture, and I thought it was kind of funny, and slightly suspicious, that she mentioned that they would be trapped in the building and be forced to kill each other. Because of that, it makes me think she knows more than she's letting on, so a possible traitor/mastermind thing going on with her? If not, she's still probably not going to make it and I've labeled her as one of the victims in Chapter 3. But a horror fanatic's execution would definitely be something I'd be interested in, like Emma Magorobi from Super Danganronpa Another 2.

The Ultimate Inspirational Speaker, David Chiem. I'm unsure of how to pronounce his last name, either Hhheee-em or Chai-em. Either way, I feel kind of let down that a speaker that Xander looks up to really hates his talent, or moreso the people that actually listen to him, revealing he's kinda two-faced, being able to talk shit about those that come to his speeches and then nice to their face. It might have been something that developed while doing it, like he was amazing and loved it at first but then later down the road, he started hating it and wanting it to stop. I don't think the two-faced bit will be as extreme as Kokichi Oma or Nagito Komaeda (his facade at the beginning of Super Danganronpa 2 to the end of Chapter 1) but it may come into play during the trials, maybe during his own? Or if he's being framed for a murder? Despite that, I've marked him as a survivor who let's this killing game change him back to OG David where he loved giving speeches and uses the killing game for a new lease on life.

Arturo Giles, the Ultimate Plastic Surgeon. I don't like him. He's a bit of a snob, and to those that he seems ugly aren't worth his time apparently. Which seems odd, given his talent. I mean, he's a plastic surgeon, so of course there will be people looking to fix a few things they don't like about themselves (I'm talking like Nip/Tuck here, people.) He has this utter fetish for celebrities and their beauty however I was watching a thing way back when, I dunno what it was, but it says the ones that have the most plain faces and such tend to be more beautiful to humans. Or something along those lines, but I'm thinking his mask is hiding something he doesn't like about himself. It makes me kinda sad because precious girl, Seiko Kimura, wore a mask and she was so upfront about everything, so maybe there is a hidden redemption arc just waiting to come out. Watch it be something like ugly teeth or some scar he doesn't want people seeing. Enough about this guy though, as I have labeled him a victim, specifically Chapter 5. Remember how I mentioned that Xander would probably end up being a culprit? Well, I think it'll end up being something that he didn't mean to or want to do, despite not really getting along with Arturo. But if he isn't a victim, he might be a survivor.

Daddy. Haha, I'm kidding, this is Levi Fontana, the Ultimate Personal Stylist. He gives off the "intimidating but innocent cinnamon bun" vibe that Gonta Gokuhara gives off, and even mentions his past during the introduction. Something I wish to see come into play during a trial. Now, a theme I seem to run across is the big person, who is amazing usually dies in Chapter 4, and I hate to say this might also be the case. His past may not have something to do with the trial, but if it does, he would be a culprit. I hope not though because I would love to see the intimidating guy live to the end.

Okay, this guy is also an asshole, and I wanna say it's probably because he's short. Kinda like Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. Ace Markey, the Ultimate Jockey. Despite how he's short like Fuyuhiko, he isn't as willing to go to that point, as he's kind of a wimp. This kind of demeanor makes him less likely to have friends, but I'm interested to see how he got to this point. Probably some form of bullying while he's on his horse, to be honest. Like maybe having issues getting on and the other jockeys laughing at him, but maybe his coach, or mentor giving him this disapproving face when he tries to start something. That's how I see it anyway, but he is probably the Chapter 1 culprit. His execution might be something along the lines of being tied to a fence where horses have to jump over him and he gets hit in the head with horse feet and horseshoes. Then as the fence falls over, he gets trampled on, leaving a bloody mess. I wouldn't be too sad about this character but we'll see as time goes on.

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I would love to continue on but apparently there's a 10 photo per post limit. I will be posting the second part shortly.

#danganronpa #danganronpa despair time #teruko tawaki #xander matthews #eden tobisa #hu jing #j moreno #veronika grebenshchikova #david chiem #arturo giles #levi fontana #ace markey #fanganronpa

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bekahdoesnerdshit · 5 years ago

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3 and 9 and 25 for cog, 20 and 23 and 31 for raini

Cog:

3. Things you said before leaving. Your name is Charlotte Olivia Grace, you’re nineteen years old, and you met a man in town today who told you he could take you with him back to New Alexandria. He seemed genuinely pleased by your enthusiastic agreement, and had walked you home so you could pack your bags. He’s now planted himself between you and your parents, and the warmth of this stranger’s hand in yours gives you the courage to stand a little straighter, look your mother in the eye, and tell her that not only are you leaving but that you’re never coming back. You’ll cry over the memory of the look on her face that night when you’re fairly sure your new companion has gone to sleep -and he won’t have the heart to tell you later that he heard each quiet sob- but in that moment your resolve is firm, and your voice doesn’t shake. Your name is Cog, you’re twenty years old, and you’ve just met the most wonderful group of people. They’re rough around the edges, but so was Ace when you first met him. They’re fearless and exciting and so full of life that your chest aches with a longing to join them on their adventures. You’re silently but profusely grateful that you were the one sent to fetch them for their meeting with Master Kind when they first arrived in the city, and that she saw fit to send you with them on the errand they ran for her. ...but that errand has been completed. You’re back from the town you swore six months ago you’d never step foot in again, and in the morning your new friends leave for the Crossroads. In the morning, your life returns to lectures and essays and studying runes and history you’ll never use, and it’s so much better than what you had in Lafaroh but the taste of a life of adventure is still thick on your tongue and you’d give anything you have for even just another day of that excitement. You’re unhappy and subdued the night you make it back to New Alexandria, and you know Ace notices even though he doesn’t say anything. You hope he knows you’re not ungrateful for the life he gave you here, and as you lay on your back in your dorm room bed you tell yourself again and again that boring at least means stable, and that stable is good. Ace sends you off ahead to meet the party outside the Academy gates the next day, claiming he wants to grab some supplies to send with them and that he’ll catch up soon to see them off with you. You’re in the middle of trying to convince the standoffish gunslinger to give you a hug goodbye when you see Ace coming toward you, and though his grin is infectious it’s out of place enough to give you pause. He leans in, ruffles your hair, and tells you that you have approval straight from the Headmaster’s desk to leave New Alexandria with this group of weirdos you’ve gotten so attached to. It takes a moment for what he’s saying to sink in; it takes another for you to understand what was unsaid, as well. You’re going, and Ace has to stay here. You know Ace almost as well as you know yourself, and you know he wants more than anything to be able to do what he just bent the rules to give you the freedom to do. And yet here he is, smiling and teasing you for tearing up when you should be thanking him, because he’s honestly excited you get to go in his stead. So you hug him tight and promise to write, promise to come back and visit, promise you’ll miss him and do whatever you can to make the world a better place. He makes you promise to keep your chin up and refuse to let the Wasteland smother your spirit, and you do without hesitation. Your cheeks are still wet but your face hurts from smiling when you finally pull away, and with one final, heartfelt goodbye, you take off into the city to catch up with your new friends and tell them the good news. 9. Things you said while lying to yourself They’re just dreams. Stress dreams, you tell yourself, and who could blame you for being stressed? In less than a week you’ve had to watch helplessly as one of your friends was lead to his execution, trekked across the Wasteland because your car was stolen by a Bandit who’s now taken it upon himself to tail your party, had to choose between destroying a town’s entire water supply and triggering Project Leviathan, gotten a letter from your best friend who’s hurting and struggling to hold his city together, and had the horrifying realization that the Bandit who days ago stole your car just to get your attention now has unsupervised access to an incredibly powerful, incredibly dangerous magical artifact. It’s enough to put a strain on anyone, and you’re self-aware enough to admit that you’ve never been especially good at dealing with emotionally taxing situations anyway. It makes sense that you’re having stress dreams, and you’re certain they’ll go away on their own when things slow down. It doesn’t mean anything that these dreams are reoccurring, unchanging, and relentless. It doesn’t mean anything that you’re dreaming of your hometown, of the street where you watched as -with your permission- Ace killed you mother. It doesn’t mean anything that the creature speaking to you is the same one she summoned, or that it speaks with her voice. Or your own. It doesn’t mean anything that it says, over and over, that you can’t cheat destiny, or that you’ve heard that phrase more times than you can count over the last few days. It’s your brain dredging it up from those moments, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything. Because if it did—If it did— But dreams are just dreams. You jolt awake, pulse racing, heart in your throat, and look around frantically to find your friends asleep in the room around you. Seeing their silhouettes is less of a comfort than you had hoped it might be, and you curl in on yourself, forehead pressed to your knees, and whisper that truth to yourself in the darkness again and again. Dreams are just dreams. Dreams are just dreams. Dreams are just dreams. 25. Things you said that you still think about today You’re in a jail cell in a city that by all rights you never should have been able to step foot in, and for the first time all day the people around you are speaking a language you actually understand. It would be a refreshing change, but you’re having trouble believing even now that you’re actually understanding what’s being said. Valentine had followed the party as they were escorted from the throne room to their cells, no doubt to gloat about how they had played right into his hand, that everything they had done had been pointless in the grand scheme of things. And, sure enough, he’s there now, leaning against the bars of your cell and waxing poetic about the meaninglessness of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ and how the only way to save the world from ruin is to conquer and unite it. He speaks, uninterrupted, for several minutes. He’s all but preaching at your exhausted, downtrodden party, and not one of them raise their head to tell him to stop, to argue with him, or even to tell him to just fuck off. And so, exhausted as you yourself are, you have no choice but to push yourself to your feet and take a step toward the bars. “You’re wrong.” It takes Valentine aback for a moment that you were the one to stand up to him but, as always, he recovers quickly. He smiles at you, composed as ever, and leans in to remind you that you were the one who said you wanted to see the Wasteland at peace. Isn’t that right, Charlotte? That’s what he’s offering. Really, you should be thanking him... Your hands ball into fists at your sides, and an anger you’ve never felt before starts to burn in your chest. He’s trying to use you. He’s trying to take your words, trying to take the good you want to see done in the world, and twist it so you have to agree with him. He wants you to believe that your options are help him or watch the world burn, and you’ve never been more angry with another person in your life. “You’re wrong,” you insist again, and the new fire in you burns hotter as you watch his smile go pitying at the way your voice trembles. He doesn’t get to be right because he’s not emotional! He doesn’t get to be right because he’s decided he’s been logical! You take an angry step forward, with half a mind to jab a finger through the bars and against his chest. You instead stop inches away and glare up at him, defiant and resolute. “If you’re looking at a problem this big and can only see two solutions, it’s because you found the one you wanted and stopped looking for others. You’re wrong, Valentine, and you don’t get to tell me I’m stupid or naive for knowing there has to be another way.” It’s the first time you’ve put words to that thought, but the conviction behind them is unshakable. You’re right, and you know you’re right. You know that it may not always be easy, but looking for that third option is always, always worth it. You tuck those words into your heart, and carry them out of the city with you. And when you get to New Alexandria, when you learn that Master Kind wants to start a war and Ace intends to let her do it because he can’t see another way out, you look him in the eye and tell him exactly what you told Valentine. There is always, always a third option.

Raini

20. Things you said when you missed what you could have had Maybe it makes you sound like an asshole -you’re pretty sure it does, and you’re even more sure you don’t really care- but rescuing a town’s worth of kids from the warlord that had been extorting their parents really feels like a job that’s beneath you at this point. You’d fought a fucking adult green dragon last week, why are you running a glorified fetch quest now? Surely there are other adventurers in the area who are looking for work? Who are just the right amount of qualified to raid the warlord’s camp and kill him and his men? You would have fought the issue, but you saw the look on your party’s faces at the mention of children in danger and you decided to save your breath. The fight was so one sided that it barely stuck in your mind as something that happened. Your contribution was walling off the tents the children were in, so that what was going to be a simple bloodbath didn’t turn into a hostage situation, and then keeping that wall up while the rest of the party cleared out the bodies before the children could see them. And now... Oh, now you’re walking up the dirt road toward the village with a gaggle of children nipping at your heels, tugging the hem of your skirt free from sticky, grabby hands every ten seconds, arms crossed tightly so none of the little bastards try to reach out and hold your hand. It’s miserable, it has been miserable for the last hour and a half you’ve been walking, and if the sun sets before you make it to town you’re going to scream. ...there’s a little girl, no older than five or so, riding on Zize’s shoulders up ahead. Bright blue eyes, blonde hair in messy pigtails, thumb in her mouth, she’d walked right up to Zize and held one arm up toward him in a silent demand to be picked up. She hasn’t said a word the whole time the group has been walking, but she hasn’t been crying either. She seems entirely content to suck her thumb and trace the tiny scales that make up the delicate details of the ridges that crest Zize’s head. As far as you can tell Zize doesn’t seem to mind the passenger, though you can’t imagine how. You make it to town before nightfall -thank the gods- and since you’re the only one without at least one sticky parasite hanging off of you you hang back while your party members help reunite the rescued children with their families. You watch as Yocheved lowers their tail so the older children who had been riding on their back can safely dismount, as they hand the infant they’d kept cradled protectively against their chest back to its tearful mother. You watch Lent kneel to hug a pair of twins who had spent the whole walk holding her hands, before shooing them off to their parents who thank her profusely. By the time you catch Cylthia in the crowd she’s handed off her charges as well, and appears to be counting the reunited children to make sure, one last time, that no one was left behind. And Zize- You scan the square, and catch sight of Zize a little ways off, laughing as they reach up to keep their little charge from falling off their shoulders in her eagerness to get down. She’s caught sight of her dad in the crowd and is calling out to him, wiggling and squirming in Zize’s hold until they set her down and she can dart off to hug her dad’s leg as tight as her little body can manage. And it’s... it’s strange, the way your chest goes tight watching the reunion. You frown and step back, but can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away from the look of absolute joy on the father’s face to have his baby in his arms. You don’t... remember the last time you spoke to your dads, you realize. It’s been months since you’ve so much as thought about home, and suddenly the guilt is eating you alive. It’s not a feeling you like, and it certainly isn’t one you’re used to. The town is having a celebration in your honor that night, but you wave off the repeated offers to join in on the festivities. You beg off claiming to be tired, and while that’s enough to deter the thankful townspeople your party members remain unconvinced. You still haven’t brought up home with them -Zize is the only one who has any real idea of where you came from, and even she never actually met your dads- and, quite frankly, you’re still not sure you think it’s their business. Still, you know they won’t drop it until they get a better explanation. “I have a letter to write,” you tell them reluctantly, adjusting and neatening the pages of the sheaf of paper you’d managed to scrounge up. “It’s... overdue. You go on, I’ll join you when I’m done.” 23. Things you said while absolutely exhausted It’s pointless. The fight- There’s no reason to continue, bleeding yourselves dry across the streets of some city in hell, chasing down an enemy you know you can’t kill. Your wounds may close seconds after they’re inflicted, but the rest of your resources aren’t regenerating the same way. You’ve been fighting for what feels like hours; you’re down to the dredges of your magic at this point, and a glance at Cylthia and Lent tells you they’re nearly tapped too. Zize and Yocheved may not be having that same problem, but it’s clear they’re exhausted as well. More than that, desperation is starting to set in. How do you sustain your will to fight when you can watch in real time as the wounds you inflict on your enemy disappear in a matter of moments? When you know that, eventually, your strength will fail you and your enemy will escape to doom the world? You keep swinging, you keep firing, you keep casting, because what else can you do? You’re going to fail, but you want to fail knowing you did everything you could to stop the end of the world. You’re standing at the back of battle, because of course you are. You’re drenched in sweat and your arms ache from holding your spellbook and focus up for as long as you have had to, and it hasn’t made an ounce of difference. The realization of how truly pointless this all is hits you, and you slowly close your spellbook. You let your wand fall limp at your side, and you watch as the people around you grit their teeth, dig in their heels, and call out to one another as they give everything they have to buy precious, useless seconds. In the span of less than then of them you watch Yocheved hiss in pain as claws rip into their flank, watch as Lent’s shield swings around just in time to catch the brunt of an attack that would have bit deep into her shoulder, watch as Clythia cries out and reaches uselessly toward where, seconds ago, her fire spirt had been extinguished by an spell that had caught her, unawares, from behind, watched as Zize looked back at you, offered you a grim smile, then shifted a few feet to the left to put himself in front of you before firing at Geryon again. You watch and you know, with a deep seated certainty, that this isn’t going to change anything. This is a war of attrition, and you’re going to lose. ...and then. You look down at the spellbook still heavy in your hand, and while you can hear the battle continuing to rage around you it seems distant. Far off, recedding further still, and unimportant. You can fix this, you realize. You’d be giving up everything to do it, but... The world slows down as you tuck your wand away and reopen your spellbook, turning page after page to get to a spell you haven’t yet had a reason to cast. Your notes on it barely take up half the page you assigned to it: a deceptively short description for a spell you’re going to use to change the fate of the world. You look up to see Zize snarl as one of Geryon’s minions attacks him, and your resolve hardens. The devil is dead at his feet seconds later, and Zize looks back at you again to make sure you’re alright. “...I’m sorry.” You say to him, tearing your eyes away as his look of concern turns to one of confusion. “I am so, so sorry,” you say to the four people you love most in the world, making eye contact with each one of them in turn. You know none of them are close enough to stop you. You hold your spellbook out in front of you, turn your face toward the sky, close your eyes, and scrape together every bit of arcane energy you have left to channel the most powerful spell a living creature can cast. ”I Wish—” 31. Things you said that you wouldn’t have if it were light out "You gonna stay the night?” Ecstasy asks, and though you have your back to her as you peer into the mirror to make yourself presentable enough to Teleport home, you can hear the grin in her words. It’s been a running joke since you first started sleeping together; you honestly can’t remember who started it. One of you, sprawled out on the bed, loose and warm in the afterglow of absolutely amazing sex, calling out to the other to ask for them to stay. The answer to the flippant request is always the same: “Not a chance.” It’s how the game is played. The person asking never expects a yes, and the person answering never really has any malice behind their words. It’s easier and less awkward than having to say goodnight, goodbye, or -god forbid- ‘thank you’. ...but recently, Ecstasy’s been the one asking every night. She laughs off your refusal same as she always has, but there’s a sincerity to the request that caught you off guard the first time you heard it. The first several times she heard it, if you’re being honest. And tonight? Tonight, you find yourself honestly, genuinely considering it. Picturing it. You could turn around, crawl back into bed, and let Ecstasy’s soft breathing and the rocking of the ship around you lull you to sleep. You’ve missed your line in the script. You hear a creaking behind you as Ecstasy sits up on the bed, and you can picture the way she’s cocked her head as she swings her legs over the side of the bed and leans forward. You turn around, and the quiet, intense familiarity behind the fact that you’d envisioned the position she’s in perfectly based on nothing more than the sounds she made by moving does something to your chest you’re not ready to face. “Angel, are you—” “Ask me again.” You demand as the feeling in your chest turns into something more recognizable. Your heart is pounding; you’re fully clothed again, seconds away from being ready to leave, but you’ve never in your life felt more vulnerable than you do in this moment. Ecstasy pauses, visibly confused, but she inclines her head toward you and indulges your request. “...alright then. You gonna stay the night?” “...okay.” The word come out breathless, and for several moments all you can do is stare at Ecstasy and wait for her reaction. For several more moments, it seems she can only do the same. Neither of you know what to do with this kind of vulnerability, not after so many months of living under the unspoken rule that this wasn’t how you interacted with one another, that the permanent sort of thing staying the night implied wasn’t something either of you wanted. A beat passes, then another. Then: “Well. Good. I'm an angel, too, in the mornings.” It’s an attempt to get things back on track, but several seconds too late to feel fully natural. You’re biting back a grin as you undress again regardless, because if Ecstasy is mouthing off like that then she’s not scoffing and telling you that you weren’t supposed to actually say yes. She holds the blanket up for you to join her in bed once more, and as you make yourself comfortable beside Ecstasy, you realize with a smile you’re glad the darkness is there to hide that you’re very much looking forward to seeing the kind of terror Ecstasy is in the mornings.

#alwaysyourqueen #cog #wasteland campaign #Rainivere #amnesia campaign #ohohoho can you tell how much Fun I had on that first cog one.....really off my shits a little #also it's fucking DAD hours bitches!!!!! YEAH we love our dads keep scrolling. i'll kill you #i know baby lover try to write someone who doesn't love babies....idk what to do with myself 😭

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smokin-gun · 4 years ago

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New “chapter” coming up. It’s just to keep the ideas flowing even if the writing isn’t quite where I want it. I apologize if this shows up as wonky, long, and horribly formatted. I will fix on my PC tomorrow if it doesn’t quite do what I want. Written in my phone so please excuse the errors.

———————————————-

The hair stood on the back of his neck and widened eyes turned slowly towards the figure behind him. He didn’t need to see him. The memories rushed back to him in one swift moment. That voice made him feel as if he were three fulms again, ashamed of everything he’d ever accomplished and threefold ready to scale the walls of Ishgard to escape it.

Nyx found himself staring with one eye, a terrified pool of amber, at the man standing not four strides away from him. His stance was seemingly carefree, but his frame was rigid and standoffish without being overly so. It didn’t fool the Seeker into a false sense of security. He knew this meeting wasn’t on pleasant terms.

“Ye fucked off fer what... fifteen seasons? An’ everyone thought ye died... bu’ ye dragged her useless arse back here of all times? Are ye fuckin’ yankin’ me?”

The Miqo’te’s words were harsh, clipped, and thick towards the other, whose lips still remained upturned and smirking. It grated on him... how absolutely ridiculous...

He started to take a step towards Nyx but paused when the larger Seeker started for the gun strapped across his back, “Dunnae take another step. Yer nothin’ t’me... Old man”.

This seemed to please the stranger further and he reached upwards to push some of his straw hued hair from his face. His eyes were darker than Nyx’s, bordering on being orange instead of amber., and gave him a much more menacing gaze when he smiled.

“You’ll have to forgive me, A’rihan. I actually never intended to run into you, however, Rook informed me that you’d actually chosen to inherit my little Ishgardian secret... I find it intensely fascinating!”, he flung his arms wide and his teeth flashed in the light of the aetheryte. Behind him, his tail flickered about like a curious coeurl, animated and excited. Nyx visibly stiffened at the realization that Rook had set him up.

“I always knew your sister would never step foot in this place but I never once in my days thought you, of all people, would actually end up here. Saying I’m proud would be taking it too far, but at least you’re not a complete failure”.

Nyx’s lips pursed and an inhale of air hissed through his teeth. Any other time he’d have breached the gap between them, but it would unfortunately mean touching the disgusting man. Instead, he persisted in watching him with fleeting interest. He did what he could to withdraw from tossing him over the edge of the towering city.

“Dunnae tell me ye came all the way back from the Hells t’shit on me... wha’ d’ye really need...”, his fingers itched to draw his gun and his nerves were fading.

“I suppose you could say I’m here as a messenger so please don’t shoot me... pun intended”, he motioned towards the gunblade resting against the other’s shoulders, “... I imagine you won’t appreciate the news one way or the other, but I had a bit of information to give you and shock factor tends to get to people’s heads a lot quicker, as I’m sure you’re aware”. He shifted his stance and placed his weight on another leg as his eyes met Nyx’s with the face of his smile.

“They’re looking for you now, more than ever. The only reason I was able to find your location is because they’ve known this entire time, A’rihan. You know it to be true. But what you’ve not been cognizant of... is that you’re tied to them more than you know”.

“Tha fuck’re ye on aboot?”, Nyx’s ears had fallen against his skull and his teeth clenched shut so that the skin around his jaw pulled taut.

“Garlemald, boy. Did you never question why you were never accepted by any of the tribe? I can assure you it was not because of your controversial conception... It was because I-“.

“Stop”, the Seeker bristled and his fingers had balled into fists at his sides. He’d completely forgotten the howling gales around them despite the whipping of the ponytail behind him, “Dunnae say a thing more or I’ll sink a bullet in yer forehead”.

“Do I even need to say more? Surely you’ve figured it out by now”.

He was about to continue when a clicking of heeled boots sounded next to them. The hazy street produced a figure, one of smaller stature, that neared them. Nyx heard the voice before he saw the face, “My dearest A’trellon, that’s quite enough for now... You’ve had your moment, but I’m afraid it’s time to head home... You’ve been very bad and we both know you’ve said a bit too much, hm? You know they’re going to have to give you a few pinches when you return”.

“Antiquia...”, both of the men stuttered the word out as the woman came into view. In both hands were some form of handgun, most likely altered to suit her combat needs, and each was pointed at the two. The darker skinned beauty smiled at them with ruby lips as raven hair laid in shiny curls around her face. Eyes as red as the blood moon leered at them with an energy that conflicted with her confident smirk. A third, much smaller orb tested just above her brow and between her eyes. As she looked to Nyx, she offered him a wink followed by a nod with her chin, “A’rihan... oh I’m sorry, you still go by Nyx don’t you? Such a silly nickname... nothing about you is dark or imposing really... but I do have to thank you for keeping my pet preoccupied while I searched for him. It’s too bad I’m a little busy right now or I could have had a two for one... Oh well. It really just means another trip to this charming, quaint little establish. Cute, really”.

A’trellon glared at her but seemed neither stunned nor surprised by his predicament. Instead, Nyx watched in absolute confusion as he walked over slowly and offered the woman his hands. She lowered the gun fixed on him and began attaching a device around his throat that resembled a dog collar. When she’d had it properly affixed, her crimson eyes searched Nyx’s and her smile never faded, “Now, do be a good boy and make our second trip a little easier. See how well behaved your father is, A’ri- Nyx?”. She turned from him, lowering the other gun much to his surprise, and began disappearing into the fog that surrounded them, “Can’t wait for you to see your home, Little Miqo’te”.

A’trellon disappeared with her and his newly reunited son made no attempts to rescue him... but the younger’s realization had hit him... Where had he been born exactly? There was no third eye... Miqo’te couldn’t be... No. Pet?

“...There’s no feckin’ way...”.

#nyx ashkala #ffxiv #mateus #miqo'te #crystal data center #crystal rp #balmung #final fantasy xiv #character development

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ninetalees · 5 years ago

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Sufferance, chapter 2

7 years after the events of Sword/Shield, Gym Leader Bede comes to Postwick to conduct some research in the Slumbering Weald; Hop is his unwilling companion.

Read the previous chapter here!

Read on AO3 here!

Warnings for: Eventual Hop x Bede (cheeryfairyshipping) and eventual M-rated content.

Chapter 2

Hop awoke early that morning. When he opened his eyes he lay still for a moment, assessing his condition following the night before. Of course, despite his aversion to the company, Gloria knew how to host a gathering. He had ended up staying later than he'd intended; knowing Gloria, she stockpiled beer to have on standby in case of opportunities such as these. Despite her celebrity status, Hop knew she treasured nothing more than her friends and the time she could spend with them. It was how they had remained so close, and how she hadn’t become unrecognisable following her rise to fame.

He didn't feel too rotten, luckily - just a dryness in his mouth and the faintest of headaches. He padded into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, flicking the lights on as he went. His coat and bag were strewn across the table where he had carelessly flung them on his arrival home, but other than that the space bore no sign of any drunken shenanigans. That was a relief: if Gloria had had her way he would probably still be drinking in her living room. It was simpler for her, he supposed, living the jet-setting life that she did. Don’t. Gloria had fought hard for the life she led, as had he; it had taken their journey together for him to realise what he really wanted. He could deign to admit that sometimes it was difficult to see Gloria walking the path he had always been so certain had been laid out for him, but they were both happy now.

He leaned against the counter as he sipped his water, watching the dawn beginning to break outside. A few stubborn stars still clung to the pale blue morning sky, but the steady creep of the sun’s rays over the horizon would soon chase them away. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine how today was going to go. Admittedly, the night before had gone far better than Hop had anticipated. He had been on high alert at first, but after a warm meal and a few cans of beer it was difficult to be tetchy. Bede and Gloria had recounted amusing anecdotes of their trip from Ballonlea and Hop had managed to laugh along without the slightest tinge of resentment or jealousy. It was always strange to drink with Bede, to see him pink-cheeked and mirthful, rid of that air of standoffishness that set Hop’s teeth on edge. The three of them drank well into the night, reminiscing all the while, and Hop hazily remembered shuffling home and thinking maybe it would be alright, after all.

But that had been last night, optimistic from the alcohol. Now, in the cold light of day, he was less certain. It was one thing to drink with Bede in Gloria’s living room – it was another entirely to work with him. He sighed and set down the glass to massage his forehead; perhaps he would need to take some painkillers before work after all.

His heart leapt to his mouth at the sudden blare of his alarm from his room. He raced to shut it off, his pulse in his ears. Why so early? It was then he remembered he had agreed to see Gloria off at the station, and to meet Bede and take him to the lab. He groaned audibly and flopped back onto his bed. Of course, brimming with goodwill from his fourth can and entirely caught up in the moment, he had agreed to be at the station for 6:30am to meet them. Normally he would have no issue getting up early to see Gloria off – he had done it many times before and would go through a lot more to spend extra time with her – but it would mean he would have an hour and a half to kill with a slightly hungover Bede before Sonia arrived. He felt for his phone on the bedside table and held it up to note the time – 6:02am. He would have time to shower and pull together the semblance of a person who hadn’t been up drinking until 2am the night before.

Twenty minutes later and Hop was up, dressed and on the way out. Briefly, he paused to observe himself in the mirror in the hallway. His hair was damp from the shower, and he hadn’t had time to shave, but other than that he looked a picture of professionalism. He adjusted the collar of his shirt self-consciously: was that a stain on his lapel? No, just a shadow. Maybe he should – what are you doing? He scowled back at his reflection. Since when had he cared so much about how he looked for work?

With an irritated shake of his head he headed away. Unlike yesterday, he didn’t linger – he was already short on time and didn’t want Gloria to miss her train. He ran down towards the station, noting the duo of dark shapes standing outside. Hop pulled up in front of them a few seconds later, breathless, and bent over for a moment to calm his racing heart. “Morning,” he wheezed. He straightened abruptly, enjoying the invigorating sweep of the frigid air through his hair. No wonder he had used to run everywhere.

Gloria and Bede regarded him, amusement in both their eyes. “Morning Hop,” Gloria replied, moving forward to gather him into a hug. “Glad you made it – we were just wondering if you would manage to surface.” Gloria drew back and must have noted the slight downturn of the corners of Hop’s mouth, because she added hurriedly. “Was difficult enough for us.”

Hop laughed and folded his hands behind his head as she stepped back to release him. “Yeah, was touch and go for a while, but I wouldn’t miss my best mate for the world.” He grinned and Gloria smiled back, visibly touched.

“Thanks Hop, you’re the best.” She rearranged her rucksack on her shoulders. “I wish I could hang around longer, I really do. It’s always so lovely to be home and I’d love to be able to show you around Bede.” She rested a hand on his arm. “Next time, I promise. And Hop will be a great host.”

Hop gauged Bede’s reaction carefully. There didn’t appear to be any hint of irony in his smile back at Gloria: in fact, with his halo of pale hair, beneath the glow of the station lights he appeared positively angelic. “I have no doubt,” he replied, and Hop managed not to frown as he leaned forward to embrace her. “Thanks again for sorting everything with Hannah. I’ll make it up to you both.”

Gloria chuckled. “Oh please, it’s nothing. Like I said Mum is glad of the company – just help her water the plants in the evening and you’ll be golden.” Hop managed to laugh along with them both but seethed internally at Hannah’s name coming so casually from Bede’s lips. Since when had he been on a first name basis with Gloria’s mother? He was interrupted from dwelling on this brief pang of irritation by the station speakers crackling to life, announcing that 6:30am service to Hammerlocke was due for departure.

“Bye you two!” Gloria sounded genuinely sorrowful as she backed towards the platform, waving until she had to turn around and jog onto the train. Bede and Hop waved back until the doors closed and the train pulled away. For a long moment afterwards they stood in silence, watching the lights fading into the encroaching dawn. Hop wondered if Bede was contemplating the same as himself: that they would have to make their own conversation, now.

Eventually, Hop cleared his throat. “Well,” he said at last. “Sonia should be in the lab at around 8am, so we have an hour and a half to kill.” He glanced at Bede, who was still staring pensively into the distance. “Anything you fancy doing? Honestly I could probably show you most of the sights of Wedgehurst and Postwick in that time and still have some to spare.”

Bede pursed his lips, and glanced at that ostentatious golden watch of his. It was as oversized on him as it had been seven years ago, and slid up his arm with the slightest of movements. “I hadn’t really given it much thought, I suppose,” he replied. “I think I’d rather save the tour for a time when it’s not ridiculous o’clock in the morning and I’m not slightly sleep deprived. Why don’t we just grab a coffee?”

Hop burst out laughing, and it was only when he met Bede’s bewildered gaze he realised he hadn’t been joking. “Grab a coffee?” he spluttered. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, mate, but you’re in the arse-end of Galar here. You’re a good 40 miles out of ‘grabbing a coffee’ territory.”

Bede scowled. “Alright, sorry I’m not familiar with your ‘arse-end of Galar’ sensibilities,” he huffed. “What do you suggest, then? Go and nap in the fields with the Wooloo for an hour?”

Hop couldn’t help but chuckle. “Honestly, with the amount of sleep I’ve had, that sounds like a great plan.” He rolled his shoulders, considering. “If it’s coffee you’re after, though, let’s just head to the lab. There’s a kitchen and I’m sure Sonia has a jar of instant squirreled away somewhere.”

Bede sniffed. “Fine,” he replied, a slight edge to his tone. It seemed Hop had managed to offend him already; he didn’t like to be laughed at, that was for sure. They had been alone what, five minutes? If Gloria were still there she would have punched him.

Instead, Hop chose to ignore Bede’s obvious annoyance and strolled past him towards the lab. He indicated Bede should follow with a twitch of his head; Bede paused for a moment, reluctant to react to what was a tacit command, before trailing after him.

They walked in silence until they arrived at the lab. Hop withdrew the key from his coat pocket and moved to unlock the door. He held it open for Bede, who gave him a long look before going inside. Hop closed it after them, flicked on the lights, and watched smilingly as Bede looked around in unbridled awe. It was an impressive establishment, all gleaming countertops and pristine equipment. Bede moved past Hop to press a tentative hand to the towering glass wall, enraptured by the dance of the morning light across its surface. Hop watched him for a moment. He had never seen him so… unguarded, the shine of the glass reflected in his oddly-coloured eyes. In a purely aesthetic sense Bede was… sort of beautiful, he supposed. Ethereal and untouchable, like a statue in a museum.

Hop shook himself and straightened instinctively when Bede turned to face him. “Coffee?” he asked, and Bede nodded. Hop made a beeline for the door in the back that led to the kitchen. He bustled around the small space, busying himself with the familiar motions in order to distract himself from his inexplicably racing heart. In all their years of sufferance, that was by far the most intimate moment they had ever shared. After a moment Bede came to linger in the entryway. He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest.

“Pretty impressive setup you have here,” he remarked. His tone was causal, expression conveying none of wonder it had before. “I had thought it would be smaller.”

Hop frowned into the mugs he was pouring. He was almost grateful for the familiar bite of exasperation that accompanied that comment – he could deal with that. “Well, yeah, it is the central hub for Pokémon research in the Galar region,” he replied curtly. “What were you expecting? A barn?”

Bede raised an eyebrow. “Calm down, I was just saying.” He stepped back so Hop could hand him a mug as they both moved back into the lab. “I pictured more storybook red-brick as opposed to sleek marble and glass, that’s all.”

Hop didn’t dignify that with a response. As much as he enjoyed sniping at Bede, they couldn’t be at each other throats all the time or they would surely be driven to insanity. Or at least he would – he was convinced Bede thrived on being as contrary as possible most of the time. Instead, he walked over to the main monitor and powered it on; might as well get set up for the day ahead.

“So what was it exactly you’re here to look at?” he asked, his eyes steadfastly on the screen. “I think you mentioned it last night but I’ve forgotten.”

“Ah, continuing something Opal looked into years back.” Bede leaned back on his hands that were resting on the countertop. “Herself and Magnolia established that Weezing’s Galar forme first adopted its Fairy-type in the Slumbering Weald. So, there’s reason to believe there is something particular about it that is accommodating to Fairy-types. It’s the most similar spot to the Glimwood Tangle in all of Galar environment-wise.” Hop nodded slowly as Bede continued. “So, is just a matter of having a snoop around. Or rather, an educated snoop around – figure out what aspect of both places is attractive to Fairy-types, be it environmental or otherwise.”

Admittedly, it did sound like an intriguing study. Almost interesting enough that Hop was less bothered about the idea of Bede poking around the Slumbering Weald. “Hm, interesting.” Hop replied after a moment. He got to his feet to jog up to the balcony. “Might be a good start to have a look at the physical attributes of different Fairy-type species: their physiology, diet, etcetera,” he called down, pulling a few titles from the shelves. “At least, that’s something we can do while we’re waiting.”

Hop could feel Bede’s gaze on him as he made his way slowly back down the stairs, balancing the books he had selected on his outstretched arms. He smugly noted the faint look of admiration in the other boy’s eyes. “Sure, sounds good.” He folded his arms and regarded Hop with a tilt of his head. “You know your stuff.”

“Haven’t just been sitting on my arse the last seven years,” Hop shot back cheerily, laying the books out before them. “Let’s make some notes.”

***

A few hours later, and Hop and Bede were on their way to the Slumbering Weald.

The rest of the morning had gone by in a blur – once they were silent and immersed in study, time passed much more quickly. Sonia had arrived at 8am on the dot, impressed by the sight of their noses already buried in books. Hop opted not to mention they functioning on just about four hours sleep because they had been up drinking the night before.

Once the introductions had been made and Sonia briefed more thoroughly on Bede’s research, she had set them up with equipment and sent them on their way, promising to contribute as much as she could in between her regular duties. Hop, with his impression of Bede forever coloured by their rivalry in the past, wondered how he came off to people meeting him for the first time. He was such a gentleman now, all polite smiles and impeccable manners – so different to the brash, arrogant so-and-so he had been before. Hop could tell Sonia was impressed, by both his scientific curiosity and affability (in that order.) If only she knew; Hop remained unconvinced.

Hop pushed the gate that led to the forest path. It swung open easily, the lock having long rusted beyond use. Hop didn’t think it had ever been fixed from that first day of his and Gloria’s journey, and he was glad. It was nice to have it there – a physical reminder of the start of his life with Pokémon. Bede came through and Hop shut the gate after them. He let Bede lead as they passed into the shadow of the trees, both blinking as their eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. “S’cold,” Bede remarked, pausing for a moment to rub some heat back into his skinny arms. “Colder than Glimwood.”

“Hence the fog,” Hop replied, taking advantage of the break to rearrange the bags of equipment he was carrying. “Must be a different type of tree here – more effective at blocking out the sunlight. Something to take note of!” He grinned. “Let’s go a little further in, then set up shop. It’ll only be some preliminary stuff we’re looking at today anyway.”

“Fine with me.” Bede straightened and gave Hop a little nod. “Astute observation. About the trees, I mean.”

“It is kind of my job.” Hop resumed walking. He didn’t have the patience to wait for a response: he was sure Bede had been gearing up to say something cutting. They wandered further into the wood. Hop noticed Bede had begun to shiver, but declined to comment. Let him bring a scarf tomorrow.

They found a spot to set up eventually, and busied themselves with their work. As Hop had pointed out, today was only the beginning. They had set themselves the task of gathering samples from the environment – the soil, the trees, the berries, anything else they could find, and potting them to take back and compare with samples Bede had brought from Glimwood. They toiled away in silence, speaking only to comment upon findings or compare notes. It was surprisingly companionable, and not at all as unbearable as Hop had imagined. Bede was focused; every time Hop threw him a glance his features were furrowed with concentration. Hop realised in that moment it was only now, watching Bede work, that he fully believed he was here to actually study and it was in fact not a well-constructed ruse to infringe on the life Hop had built and drive him to insanity. That was a relief, at least.

Eventually, Hop got around to checking the time. He balked at the numbers glowing back at him – when had it become 4:30? He stretched, muscles aching from having spent the day on his knees. “Ready to head back?” he asked. Bede was sprawled on the forest floor as though it were his bedroom carpet, scribbling away. He looked up at the sound of Hop’s voice and straightened to glance at his watch. “Gosh.” He shook some dirt from his sleeve. “The day went quickly.”

“Yeah, nothing better than a new project to make the most of a day,” Hop replied cheerfully. Distracted by his good mood, he unthinkingly offered Bede a hand. For a split second Bede stared at it as though it had teeth. In that instant, Hop considered pulling it back and pretending it had never happened. Before he knew it, however, Bede’s hand was in his. Hop pulled him to his feet, noting how incredibly light he was. Once up, Bede let go right away and they hurriedly turned away from each other to brush themselves down. “Thanks,” mumbled Bede. Hop grunted noncommittally in response and busied himself with collecting the equipment. Bede watched him for a moment, fiddling with his earring, before silently joining Hop in gathering their belongings. Hop’s cheeks were flushed with annoyance at himself – it was no good to be letting his guard down too soon. Today had been a good day, but he couldn’t allow himself to become complacent. He was still a long way off trusting Bede an inch.

They headed back towards Wedgehurst unspeaking. Hop was relieved they were both too tired to attempt to abide by social convention and make small talk. He wanted nothing more than to be out of these dirty clothes and curl up on his couch, to liberate himself of the strange atmosphere that hung like a shroud over the pair. Whenever he glanced at Bede it was evident his companion was lost in thought, eyes on the sky. Hop wondered what he was thinking about.

They arrived in Wedgehurst and Hop was about to turn to Bede and offer to take the rest of the equipment back to the lab and finish up – if only to get rid of him – but before he could do so an ear-splitting scream had them both near jumping out of their skins. They both spun around to see a young girl sprinting towards them, arms flailing. She skidded to a halt in front of them, out of breath and pink with excitement. “Oh. My. Gosh,” she squealed. “Gym Leader Bede? Is that really you?” She jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “I can’t believe you’re here! I’m such a fan. Fairy-types are the best – my mum says I get a Clefairy for my eleventh birthday!” She glanced at Hop. He recognised her as Amelia; her mother worked at the Mart on weekends. “I didn’t know Bede was your friend Hop,” she gushed. “You need to introduce me!”

Hop and Bede looked at each other; Hop could see his own bewilderment reflected in Bede’s gaze. “Uh…” he scratched his cheek, scrambling to right himself. “Well, I don’t think he needs much introducing – you seem to know exactly who he is.” He laughed awkwardly. “Bede, this is, uh, Amelia. She lives here in Wedgehurst. Long-time neighbour of mine.” Bede blinked at Hop, before turning to smile at a wide-eyed Amelia. “Um, hi.” He shifted the bags he was carrying so he could extend a hand. “Nice to meet you. Pretty town you have here.”

Amelia squealed again and shook his hand so enthusiastically Hop was concerned for the safety of Bede’s load of equipment. Bede, warmed by her enthusiasm, found his stride in easy conversation as Amelia babbled at him. Hop watched from the sidelines. Outwardly he was smiling, but his stomach was tight. He was happy, being a Pokémon Professor in training – it was where he was meant to be, and he was good at it. Far better than he ever had been at battling competitively. The work wasn’t as glamourous – he spent his days on his knees in the mud whilst the likes of Gloria and Bede were out shaking hands and kissing babies – but it was just as important. Moreso, even: all the strategies and tactics trainers employed related to the attributes of particular Pokémon that had all been discovered by Pokémon professors and researchers. He had great pride in what he did. But he couldn’t help but remember, sometimes, that he had had to fall behind and relinquish a dream to arrive where he was now. For so long, he had compared Leon’s past with his future. And sometimes late at night when he stared up at the darkened ceiling, all he could see was flash of the stadium lights and the excited roar of the crowd. Cheering for him, the greatest trainer Galar had ever seen…

“Hop?” he was jerked from his reverie by Ameila waving a hand in front of his face. “Hey, Hop? Can you take a picture of us please?” Ameila was clutching her phone to her chest, gazing at him with hopeful eyes. Bede appeared visibly uncomfortable, eyes darting from Hop to Amelia. If Hop hadn’t known better he would have thought he appeared almost apologetic.

“Uh, sure,” Hop replied after a moment. He accepted the phone from her and stood back, gesturing for them to stand in the frame. “Say cheese!”

“Cheese!” cried Amelia, throwing her arm around Bede’s waist. Bede blinked rapidly, akin to a Stanler in headlights, before he managed to adopt a hesitant smile. Hop snapped a few pictures in rapid succession until Amelia was clamouring for her phone back to do a review. She swiped through a few, nodding as she went. “Awesome,” she breathed, looking up at Bede. “Do you have a League Card I could have? Pretty please?”

“Of course,” Bede replied. He fumbled through the assortment of bags he was carrying to find his own rucksack. He felt around inside until his fingers brushed the familiar sharp plastic edges of his League Card bundle to pull one out and place it in Amelia’s eager hands. “Oh. My. Gosh!” She held it up the sun. “It’s signed and everything! This is the best day ever!” She was near vibrating with excitement at this point, cheeks flush with delight. “Thank you so much, Leader Bede!” She grinned up at him. “My friends are gonna be so jealous! I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“My pleasure.” Bede shook her outstretched hand one last time. “Lovely to meet you.”

Amelia giggled bashfully, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers with her free hand. When Bede stepped back she finally acknowledged Hop. “Good to see you too, Hop. You’re so lucky – all your friends are so cool!” Hop nodded, unable to muster a smile. She’s just a kid. It would be stupidly petty and immature to get upset.

At last Amelia ran off, and Hop and Bede were left standing in silence. “Hop…” Bede ventured after a moment. Hop whirled to face him.

“What?” he snarled, and Bede blinked, taken aback by the force of his reaction.

“I didn’t… that was…” Bede sighed. “Sorry,” he settled for at last.

“What on earth are you apologising for?” Hop forced a laugh. “You’re a Gym Leader. You have fans.”

“I know,” Bede replied. “But… I mean, I know it’s probably weird because of… before.” He pressed his lips together, stumbling over his words. “I just… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me,” Hop hissed with such vitriol he surprised even himself. Bede stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, before his expression became dark. “It’s not pity that I have for you, Hop,” he replied coldly.

Hop’s fists tightened around the bags he was carrying. He was glad of their weight: it kept him grounded, reminded him his hands were full so it would not be prudent to punch Bede in the jaw in broad daylight.

“Give me your bags.” Hop spoke at last. “I’ll take them back. You go home – I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bede opened his mouth, then thought the better of it and shut it again. Wordlessly, he handed off the bags to Hop. He didn’t move to help when Hop stumbled slightly under the weight of them.

“See you tomorrow, then,” he replied after a moment, his expression utterly unreadable. He turned back in the direction of Postwick, blond hair shimmering in the late afternoon sun. Hop watched him until he was out of sight, then spun around to head back towards the lab, teeth clenched with fury.

It was sunlight, not tears in his eyes, that was obscuring his vision.

***

A/N: Wow, Chapter 2 finished already! Don’t get too used to this, lol – have some time off work so have more time to work on this. Future updates will probably be slower. Or maybe not, I am really feeling this story right now so am motivated to work on it!

Anyways, here it is! Please enjoy. I will edit this and fix up small mistakes later, lol, but am sick of looking at it for now.

Also, in case people are wondering, ‘arse-end’ is a term for the ‘middle of nowhere.’ I think it’s mostly Irish (I am Irish) but a lot of Irish phrases are used in Britain too, so – I may take a few liberties on that. Any Brits are free to call me out hahaha.

#cheeryfairyshipping #hop x bede #bedehop #rival hop #bede #my writing

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