#Chapter 11 will fix everything. Even if there's nothing to fix. And return me most of the confidence i lost after some... events. Khem. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quicksilverownsmysoul · 2 years

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Sweet Dreams Are Made of This Pt. 13

Dark Peter Maximoff X fem reader (Mob au)

Hey Y’all!! So, this part is going to be a little short because it’s been a busy week, plus it’s a building chapter to set up the next few chapters! 9Also sorry if it’s a little boring Its a lot of talking) I hope you like it and prepare yourselves because next week’s chapter is gonna be a long one.

Summary: Peter has felt like a piece of him has been missing ever since he was taken away from his mother to be raised by his father. But when you seem to fill that piece there’s no way he’s ever letting you go

Warnings: angst, Erik being really cruel

Word Count: 1.2K

“Home?” You repeated, swerving to the side before Erik could cage you between his arms. You moved to the other side of the classroom, your position and his switching places. “I am home.”

Erik rolled his eyes at you. “I am inviting you back to your rightful home, with me and with the boy.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You kicked me out of there, don’t you remember. You were the one who said I could leave.”

Erik looked uninterested in the little argument you were trying to have with him. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I forgive you, so now with my blessing you will come back home and fix the mess you made.”

You wanted to scream, this man was absolutely insufferable. He believed that the whole world revolved around him and you supposed it did. You mustered up your courage and said that one word that you had been dying to tell him since you first met him. “No.”

It was Erik’s turn to repeat, to return the ball to your side of the court for retaliation. “No? I’m sorry but do you really think you have a say in this?”

“You said I could leave and I left.” You sounded like a broken record but it seemed the first two iterations hadn't an impact on him. Maybe the third would. “You can’t just come back here after a month of nothing and expect to want to just go back to that hell of a manor. I won’t deny that I care for Peter but it is not enough to give up my life and live the rest of it as some glorified babysitter-”

Erik threw his head back in a laugh, it echoed off the walls and had you shrinking back into the corner you had trapped yourself in. “Glorified babysitter? Honey, open your eyes! That’s what you are right now.” His smile was wide and unnatural as he stared you down. “The way you care for these children is no different than the way you handle my Peter. The only difference is that this institution pays you a couple pennies a week to do it.” He laughed again, moving away from the door and back towards you.

“You sure think highly of yourself, I bet you're the best little teacher at this school aren’t you? And why wouldn’t you be? It’s not like you have anything else to spend your life on. And while we’re on the topic, what life?” You stumbled back as if you had been struck, it was as if Erik had pulled your own thoughts from your mind to use them against you.

“You forget that I know everything about you and I have to say what you are trying so hard to preserve isn't much of a life sweetheart. You were missing and no one even batted an eye, the only one who missed you was your dog. At least when you were with us you had something that could be considered a life.”

You could feel tears pricking at your eyes, everything Erik had said was true. Sure the way he had said it was an oversimplification of your job and free time but he was right. You didn't do much, you went to work and you went home. You cared so much about your work that you never really explored other parts of your life. The most excitement in your life, as bad as it was, had been while you were there.

Erik glared down at you, his expression softing for a fraction of a second before he returned to his usually neutral one. But this time there was a hint of something else in eyes, some may even call it compassion. “Look, just come with me. I won’t put you through any theatrics like last time. I even had your dog picked up and sent to the house, I’ll let you have it this time. And it would be unwise to disobey me with your dog in my custody.” Your eyes widened at his laced threat, he sighed and held his hand out, hoping to move past his threat. “I have a car waiting outside, just let me take you home.”

You stared at his outstretched hand. “What about my job?” You asked meekly, trying to put up a fight for as long as you could.

“I took care of it like I did last time.” He answered simply.

You wondered how long he had said you would be gone this time, you wondered if anyone other than your class would notice you had just disappeared. You figured they wouldn't. You let your hand fall into his, shivering at the cold touch that enveloped you as his fingers closed around yours. He maneuvered your arms so that you were holding his arm as he led you out the door and down the hall.

You tried not to cry as you were exited from your beloved school, ignoring the calls from your students as they asked where you were going in the middle of the day. It has started to rain, coming down in thick sheets and battering the black suv that was parked in front of the school. Erik waved for the driver and he came around the semi circle, getting out in the rain to open the door for you both.

You slid into the familiar black leather seats, Erik sliding in next. You both rode in silence as you had before, a sickening deja vu plaguing your mind. You dreaded going back, you knew the tension in the mansion would be deadly upon your return. But you would get to see Peter again, as much as you hated to admit it you had missed him. You had missed those soft smiles that only he let you see and the way he looked at you each time you graced him with the lightest of kisses.

You let your memories come back to you, after a month of repression you welcomed them back like an old friend. You wondered how he was, Erik had said he was a mess and you couldn't even begin to imagine the state he would be in. He was falling apart after you had escaped for only five minutes, you hated to think what a month had done to him. You wondered if he would hate you for leaving, a part of you hated yourself for leaving like that. You had played that night over in your mind almost every day as you imagined a time where you got to say goodbye and explain why you coulndt stay.

A part of you was scared of what he would be like. He was already so obsessed with you, they said that time made the heart grow fonder, did it make a boy like Peter more attached as well. And was what Erik had said true, was Peter going to be violent towards you as well.

Erik had explained that they had tried to introduce new residents into the house to serve as your replacements. But if they even dared to touch him he would lash out, he nearly broke the bones in one girl's arm and bloodied the nose of another man. Erik had to have them sent to another one of his outposts because Peter couldn't even stand to work with them after what they did. Ater how they tried to take your place.

The car pulled to a stop and Erik opened up his umbrella as he helped you out after him. You took his hand sealing your fate, something told you you wouldn't be leaving the manor for a long time.

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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Bonding (Adrenaline Junkie Chapter 12)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: nightmares, swearing, mentions of death/injury

Word count: 3,383

(A/N): it feels good to get back to this story

A week and a half went by in a flash. In that time, you and Arthur grew closer. You absolutely loved how he was so interested in innovation and engineering, you felt like he was the perfect choice for your apprentice. To pass the time, you would teach Arthur the basics of redstone working. You taught him everything from how to properly store it to the beginnings of using repeaters. Occasionally, Philza would join you two in lessons.

“Then, you just connect the repeaters together with redstone and set each for the desired times. Et voila! You have properly working timed pistons.”

Looking up from your demonstration, you stifle a chuckle at the two sitting in front of you. Arthur, the ever vigilant student, was frantically scribbling down notes into the journal you gave him, his face scrunched in concentration and his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. Your father, however, looked downright confused. The poor man was staring down helplessly at the two repeaters in front of him, the whole set up he had looked slightly flimsy in structure. Redstone dust messily formed a line between the iron contraptions with the occasional tiny break in the dust. Judging by the positioning of the repeaters themselves, they were in the right place but they were haphazardly placed. Sure the positioning of the two repeaters relative to each other would work, but it was just something that you wouldn’t do. You always hated clutter in your contraptions. The only true flaw in his build was the messy line of redstone.

You walked over to the table your dad was working at and started to explain why the machine wasn’t working. “So your only mistake here is the cleanliness of your redstone. With it being this messy, there are plenty of potential breakages of the wiring,” you gently swept the redstone into a neat line with your hands and watched as the entire contraption glowed red. Pistons started moving in succession of each other in timed bursts. “One more thing, just a little nitpicky thing, the repeaters are set right, they’re just… messy?” You watched as Philza watched the movement of the pistons with a blank look before he looked up at you with a slightly annoyed look.

“Other than that, the settings of the repeaters were set right!” You sheepishly grinned at him before realizing that he wasn’t going to be reassured by your weak reassurance. You looked over to Arthur, “Arthur buddy you wanna try?”

You watched as his eyes lit up in excitement as he looked up from you from over the brim of his journal. Without a word, he quickly got to work. You and Philza watched him as he continuously looked between his journal and his work.

“I didn’t know working with redstone was so hard. I just thought it was easy with how fast you invent things,” Philza said dejectedly.

You reached over to pat him on the back, “it took me a while to figure it out. I remember four years ago when I started I was completely lost.”

You felt the vibration of his chuckle, “I remember when you almost crushed your wing in a piston. You were so lucky it only caught the ends of a few primary feathers.”

You chuckled bittersweetly, “not that it matters. I lost that wing a few months after that.”

You could practically hear his mind start churning, “but you made a new one, you can still fly.”

“It’s not the same Dad. I hate having to spend thirty minutes putting the sensors on my back. I can’t feel the air moving through my feathers anymore. It feels like a part of me is constantly missing and this hunk of useless metal doesn’t take that feeling away.”

He fell silent as he continued to watch Arthur work. You always felt bad whenever you dumped your trauma on him, he was always looking for ways for you to feel better. But there were just some things that couldn’t be fixed with reassurances and small gifts. He didn’t understand that and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that his kind and caring nature would never get you your wing back. It was gone forever and nothing can bring it back.

You tried to not be bitter about it, it happened three years ago afterall, but you couldn’t help but feel a bitter taste on your tongue and a pang in your heart whenever someone mentions a time when you still had both wings. Whenever someone mentioned you having both wings, you could still remember the feeling of the air working itself through the nooks and crannies of the spaces between your feathers, the way that both wings would hang off your bed because they were too large (you never got to ask Philza about how he covered his wings), the way that they would both puff up behind you when you tried to intimidate your brothers during a snowball fight. You didn’t want those memories, they were of a better version of yourself. You didn’t want to be reminded of what could’ve been if you didn’t go deeper into that damned cave.

“...Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Don’t apologize, I should’ve realized how you felt before bringing it up.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.”

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and he looked at you with confusion, “why’re you just now-”

“(Y/n) I think I did it! Come look!”

Without a second glance at your dad, you hurried off to inspect Arthur’s contraption. It was perfectly set up; the redstone was in a neat line with no breakages, the repeaters were set perfectly and spaced evenly apart, and the pistons were successfully moving together in timed spurts.

You grinned at Arthur, “well done! This is perfect, you’ll be moving onto making your own inventions in no time. I couldn't have asked for a better apprentice.”

Arthur basked in your praise and listened to your words like they were being sung to him by an angel. He was practically beaming with how proud he was of himself. If the redstone smeared on his cheeks could be activated by emotional response, it would be glowing a brilliant red.

You reached out to wipe away the redstone from his cheek with your thumb, “why don’t you go clean up so we can grab some lunch. I bet you’re hungry.”

“I’m not hungry, I just wanna work with you more!” Arthur tried to convince you, but the rumbling of his stomach told you otherwise. You chuckled as the redstone slowly got camouflaged into his reddening puffed out cheeks.

He looked away in embarrassment as he started to stalk up the stairs, “...I’ll go clean up.”

Alongside teaching Arthur the basics of what you know, you were working on a plan to somehow release the souls from the Warden’s captivity. You felt a sort of survivor’s guilt when you thought about how you returned to your family and Hugh did not. Your family could survive without you, but Hugh was Arthur’s only family. It was unfair that such a kind, loving boy had his only family ripped away from him at such a young age when he needed his brother most. The least you could do for Arthur was free his brother’s soul from it’s endless torment.

You kept a journal that you would write out your plans in. The plans ranged from fighting the Warden with your very limited swordsmanship to blowing the entire cave to smithereens. No matter what plan you came up with, it would always result in you getting seriously wounded or dying for the last time. Most of the plans you came up with wouldn’t work anyways; the Warden was just too powerful. Asking Philza or Techno was out of the question, you didn’t want to risk their lives. That, and they would never let you go kill it. This was something you had to do on your own.

The mere thought of facing the Warden stressed you out extremely, giving you more and more nightmares about the monster.

The Warden somehow entered your house. You could hear it’s booming footsteps working its way through the hallways and stopping at each room. You could hear how it slaughtered your family brutally. You could hear their screams slowly becoming integrated into the horrid cacophony of the souls’ as their souls were absorbed into the Warden’s being. Finally, as the Warden reached your room, you could hear your family’s voices over the harsh screaming of the other souls.

“You promised me that you wouldn’t let it get me.” Arthur.

“I thought you’d always protect me.” Tommy.

“Why’d you let me die?” Wilbur.

“I’ve done so much for you and you just let me die.” Techno.

“It should’ve been you.” Philza.

Just as the Warden’s clawed hand swung down towards your face, you bolted up from your bed and flattened yourself against the wall scanning your room for the Warden. There was not a single thing out of place in your room. You wiped away the tears that were streaming freely down your cheeks and grabbed your automatic crossbow you had leaning against your wall. Grasping it with an iron grip and your finger hovering over the trigger, you reluctantly left your room and made your way down the hallway. You opened Philza’s door and peered into his room. You could see his wings sprawled out behind him and his chest rising and falling gently. He was still alive. You closed the door quietly and made your way to Wilbur’s old room where Arthur was currently sleeping. Bracing yourself to find his corpse, you opened the door. You only saw a mop of brilliant red hair poking out of the blankets. You couldn’t see movement, oh god was he even breathing? You rushed over to his bed and pulled back the covers.

You could see his peaceful face looking back at you. Putting your hand under his nose, you held your breath as you waited for air to hit your hand. Finally after what seemed like forever, you felt a gentle burst of air hit your hand. You covered Arthur back up and stalked out of his room. Your family was alive. The Warden was still in that cave. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

You glanced at the clock, it was about half past four in the morning. You’d have to wake up in about two hours, so you just made your way down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. Not that you’d be able to go back to sleep after that nightmare anyways. Time moved infinitely around you as you became engrossed in your thoughts. You needed to make better plans to kill the Warden. You needed to be better.

You didn’t notice when Arthur and Philza entered the kitchen. You were fully zoned out staring at the now cold cup of coffee in your hands, lost in thought. It wasn’t until you felt a hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of your trance. Recoiling violently and reaching for the crossbow you had propped up against the chair, you whipped around and pointed the weapon at the thing that touched you. Instead of the Warden standing there ready to devour you, you were met with a startled Philza stepping back with his hands in the air. Arthur was hiding behind him fearfully.

Your eyes widened as you lowered the crossbow. You could feel your wing start to puff up and retract itself back in reflecting your horror as you hastily put the crossbow back onto the table. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I wouldn’t do that. Shit what time is it, I haven’t made breakfast yet. I’ll start. I'm sorry.”

You pushed passed them as you rushed over to the chest and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes. Your shaky hands struggled slightly to pour the exact measurement of flour before someone stopped you.

“(Y/n), I’ll make it.” It was your dad once again.

“No, I got it.”

“(Y/n), I’m not asking. Go sit down.”

You sighed as you started walking to the table. You could hear Arthur’s breath hitch in his throat when you grabbed the crossbow and stalked up to your room to hide it. You could feel guilt, shame, and horror rise up from deep within you from what you almost did. You couldn’t believe that you almost just shot them because of your stupid delusion. It would’ve been fatal too, your automatic crossbow never failed to kill. It was one of the many downsides to the weapons you invented, you had to live with the fact that people are getting killed because of your inventions. In a way, you indirectly killed many people per day.

You walked down the stairs as slowly as you could so you could avoid having to face them. You couldn’t forget the look of pure fear on Arthur’s face as he hid behind Philza, you were the cause of that. You promised that you would protect him and he fully trusted you to do so. This morning you took that trust and destroyed it the second you reached for that crossbow.

When you reached the dining room, you sat down as far away from Arthur as possible. You could hear Philza pause his movements when he saw you enter the room before he started stirring again. He was probably trying to see if you came back with a stronger weapon so he could protect Arthur. You were a monster.

Soon enough breakfast was ready and a hefty plate of pancakes covered with maple syrup was placed in front of you. Breakfast went by quietly, the only sound coming from the clanking of silverware against plates. You didn’t eat much of your breakfast, you were too busy trying to think of a way to apologize to Arthur and Philza. In the middle of your thought process, you were interrupted by Arthur’s voice.

“(Y/n)?”

You jumped slightly and looked up at him, “yeah?”

“Can you look at my blueprint? I got an idea for something yesterday and I wanna see if you think it’d work.”

You looked at the young boy in slight confusion, “...Sure just finish your breakfast first.”

“I’m done, I’ll go grab it!”

Without giving you any warning, he jumped out of his chair and raced up the stairs.

“You gave us quite the scare this morning hun. What happened?”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize, just tell me what happened.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “I just had a bad nightmare last night. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I just… came down here to wait a bit so I could make breakfast.”

“Nightmares are understandable, but why’d you have a crossbow?”

“I thought I needed something to protect the house if it came.”

“If the Warden came? I thought you didn’t get nightmares about it anymore.”

“Well, I still do, just a lot more frequently-”

Arthur burst through the door and ran over to you, slapping the paper on the table in front of you. You squinted at it, trying to decipher the messy handwriting. It was a layout of a secret door, which was popular in the world of redstoning. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that though, especially with how excited he was to show you what he made. So, you smiled at him.

“It looks good buddy, do ya wanna try to build it today? I can help you.”

“Yes! I’m gonna go get dressed so we can build it!”

He once again dashed up the stairs, leaving you and Philza alone in the kitchen. Philza chuckled, “he reminds me of Tommy when he was that age. Except… a little more mellow.” When you didn’t respond, he turned to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, “he was so scared of me this morning. I promised to protect him and I almost ended up killing him.”

“...Ya know I almost stabbed you and your brothers multiple times when you guys were younger because you guys startled me right?”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch, “of course I do, and you would always get us ice cream after.”

“Did you ever resent me for it?”

“No, you were just trying to def- oh, I see where you’re going with this.”

“Ever the keen one,” he chuckled. “Arthur’s more understanding than most kids his age, I bet he understands that you didn’t mean to do that. You just gotta make it up to him.”

“Alright, thank you Dad. I think I’m gonna go get dressed so Arthur doesn’t have to wait long. I think if I have him wait any longer he’s gonna explode.”

After you got dressed, you walked downstairs and grabbed the materials Arthur would need and a couple of extra supplies you might need. Walking outside, you were met with an excited Arthur. You two worked on his contraption all day. You knew exactly what he needed to do to fix any problems that arouse, but you only gave him little hints that would push him in the right direction. You wanted him to stop relying on you so much for the little things. Sure, you were always going to be there for him when he was stuck, but you wanted him to be more independent.

Eventually, the sky took on hues of pinks and yellows as the sun started to disappear behind the treeline. “It’s getting late, Arthur. You made good progress today.”

He nodded as he walked alongside you back into the house as you led him to the couch. “Arthur?”

He looked at you, his brown eyes clouded with exhaustion and confusion. “I’m so proud of how fast you’ve improved. I have something for you.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a new pair of goggles and leather gloves.

“I know it’s not much, but-”

“I love it.” He whispered as he stared down at his presents in his hands. Without warning, he flung himself into your side as he tightly hugged your midsection. You froze before you wrapped your left wing around him in a feathery hug. Your hand reached up to stroke his hair as you chuckled. “It’s no problem kid, you deserve it.”

You two sat there for a bit before you patted his back, “dinner’s almost ready. Let’s go clean up so my dad doesn’t throw a fit. You have redstone and dirt all over you.”

After you two cleaned the dirt off from your faces and hands, you led Arthur down the stairs. You nudged his shoulder when you got to the end of the stairs, “race you to the kitchen!”

You broke off into a speed walk as Arthur started to sprint, laughing boisterously as the distance grew between you two quickly. Grinning, you shouted out, “oh no, I can’t go any faster! You’re gonna win!”

You dramatically yelled out a stretched out “no” as he bolted into the kitchen and sat at the table. You sped walked into the kitchen and sat next to Arthur. “How’re you so fast? I couldn’t catch up to you if I tried.”

“Yeah, you’re a speed demon Arthur!” Philza agreed from the stove between laughs. He forgot how much missed having his kids race each other to the dinner table, having Arthur around the house was really refreshing for him. He was ecstatic that you were getting closer to Arthur, it meant that he was going to get another grandson soon.

Dinner went by a lot smoother with laughter and banter being tossed around freely. Arthur would not take the goggles off and wore them proudly at the top of his head. Philza would cast knowing looks over to you when he was sure you were looking at him, which confused you, but you just brushed the feeling aside. You were happy sitting at the table eating with your little family; you couldn’t wait for your brothers and nephew to finally meet Arthur. They’d get along well with your apprentice. Until then, you have a mission to complete involving a certain monster.

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 3 years

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Melting Wax, Crawling Vines: Part 11 (Vincent Sinclair x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter

Warnings: smut, oral, fingering, cum-eating, trauma, blood/gore, hypersexuality as a way to cope my dudes

Word Count: 3846

The smut chapter I promised is finally here

It had been a month and you'd been thinking about it. You knew you shouldn't have. That it did nothing to help you. That going over the events over and over in your mind would only bring back more pain. But, like a wound on the inside of your cheek, you couldn't help but touch it.

You were pouring your cup of coffee, thinking about the blood. The gore. The broken face and his final cry. You thought about what he'd been trying to tell you, what he'd been trying to get at. The wax bodies all over town. He'd mentioned your type, and, for a moment, you wondered if you really were just attracted to crazy. You shook your head. Vincent wasn't crazy. Bo on the other hand. Maybe. But Vincent was lucid. And he still did the thing he did. You bit the inside of your cheek. Okay, maybe your track record wasn't amazing. And maybe if you'd listened to him-

"Shit." You said, feeling the hot coffee touch your hand. Your thoughts had gone elsewhere for too long, to the point where you'd overfilled your cup until the coffee spread across the counter and down onto the floor. You were quick to grab some paper towels to clean up your mess, and Vincent was reaching over to help you. He quickly signed,

"You okay?" And you gave him a nod. It wasn't a lie. Physically, you hadn't been hurt more than a minor shock of the initial burn. Mentally, however? That was another story. You ended up dumping out a little bit of your cup, just so you wouldn't end up spilling it on your way down to the workshop.

You spent all of your time with Vincent. You went down to his workshop with him, carrying your coffee and your breakfast. You were going to spend some time reading, maybe take a nap, and try your best to hold onto your slipping sanity. Vincent, despite his hobby, was a big help. He understood that the whole event was traumatizing, and your hesitance to really leave the safety of the workshop. It was away from the rest of the world, perfectly hidden and the perfect place to recoup yourself. He would let you lay in his bed, reading, sleeping, or even prepping for some more lessons for the others.

But, after you finished eating, you couldn't find it in you to pick up the book you'd left on the side of Vincent's bed. You knew you could try your hand at drawing, as Vincent had offered to let you use any of his notebooks and had given you some of his own lessons. After a moment, you asked for some of his pencils and he was quick to offer you a variety of drawing tools. Charcoal, pencils, pens, markers. You almost wanted to ask if he had crayons. You chose a simple pencil, before you reached for one of his notebooks and began flipping through the pages. Vincent always let you use whatever you wanted. He had plenty of notebooks, plenty of tools. It was rare that he'd ever need all of them, and he always told you that it was all at your disposal.

So, you hadn't expected to find what you did. You knew that Vincent drew you. Hell, you'd posed for some of his drawings. But this was not the usual portraits you found. You flipped further, quickly figuring out that this notebook seemed to have one specific purpose. Part of you wanted to just tuck it away and pretend you never saw anything. And another part of you wanted to tease him ruthlessly for it.

Finally, you decided on the former. You tucked that particular notebook away, looking for a different one for you to begin sketching in. As much as you just wanted to draw whatever came to mind, you found the only thing that came to mind was Vincent.

You and Vincent had kissed and done some light touching, but your original path had been undoubtedly slowed by what happened with your ex. Vincent didn't want to push, you knew. So, the most you'd done was a few light kisses that you'd initiated, and it was always nothing more than something to relieve some of your stress or to bask in the comfort of the early morning. You were aware that Vincent was inexperienced, but it was almost reassuring to see that he did desire you. Even if he planned on keeping it to himself.

You stared at him for a moment. You watched the way his hands moved, how they moved with the utmost precision and certainty. How his movements were both gentle and sure, like a well oiled machine. The muscle you knew he possessed was covered by a sweater that hung off of him, and his long black hair was tied back at his neck. You wished for this morning to return, wished that you'd spent more time running your hands through it. Well, you knew you'd get to play with it when you settled for bed.

You drew him until Vincent was done with his pet project, a lamp for the upstairs bedroom. When Vincent came over to peek at what you'd been drawing, you thought you could see a crinkle in his eye and you watched the way he played with his hands. He was embarrassed, you could tell, and, after a moment, he signed,

"Me?" And you gave him a smile and a nod. He turned away, busying himself by fixing his ponytail. But you knew he was pleased. You smiled to yourself. Even if it wasn't as good as Vincent's, he still liked it. He grabbed the lamp, holding it with one arm. You were quick to say and sign,

"You're going upstairs?" And he gave you a nod. After a moment, he moved it in his arms to comfortably sign,

"You don't have to come." He said, and you bit your lip. You knew that he knew you liked to avoid the House of Wax as much as possible. After everything that happened there, he understood. You frowned. It had once been your favorite place in all of Ambrose. You glanced down the hallway. But you didn't really like being alone in the basement either. You sighed, deciding that you'd rather face your issues than stay alone in the basement.

"It's fine. I'll come." You said, and you pulled on your slippers and one of Vincent's sweaters over your pajamas. You couldn't ignore how Vincent seemed happy, even if he wouldn't say anything. He held out his hand for you, and you took it and gave it a squeeze.

He guided you through the underground tunnels, even if you'd been going through them long enough to know where to go. He walked up the steps, and you absentmindly reached out to touch the faces carved into the walls as Vincent walked in front of you. You were following him like a lost little puppy, your mind elsewhere as you tried not to let memories of what happened the month before flood your mind. Surprisingly, you were able to find a pretty good distraction.

You thought about the images that Vincent had drawn, all the positions he must've imagined. Even if he was inexperienced, he definitely had quite the imagination. As Vincent guided you and you trailed behind him silently, your mind flooding with different images of all the ways Vincent could take you. On your back, one your stomach, on your knees. You tried not to blush as you thought a particular angle that made it clear Vincent had been imagining something slightly more self serving.

It made it so you could completely ignore all the terrible reminders of what you'd done, up until you were in the wax bedroom Vincent had created. You glanced at the bed, immediately imagining Vincent in-between your legs. And then you in-between his . It was almost unfair. Vincent seemed to know about every little dip and curve you had, how he knew that you'd figure out another time, but you had barely seen anything. A couple of flashes here or there, but Vincent was shy. He kept his clothes on even when you did some experimental touching. You bit your lip, just before Vincent signed,

"You okay?"

***

Vincent knew this was a bad idea, but he didn't want to force you to stay in the basement. Any time you came up into the House of Wax usually didn't end well, and his nerves only grew as your silence stretched on.

He watched how you bit your lip, refused to meet his eyes. How you seemed far off and in your own head, millions of miles away from him and where you were. He thought the flush on your cheeks was just from the heat of wearing his sweater. Why would it be from anything else?

Even when you nodded and assured him that you were fine, Vincent didn't believe you. He knew this was a bad idea. He knew he should've just waited until you went to take a nap. Then, he could've slipped away and been back before you ever knew the wiser. Instead, he'd brought you here and now you were- His self deprecating paused as you reached a hand under his sweater.

His hand instantly went around your wrist, but he didn't pull it away. It was out of surprise more than anything, but his grip quickly relaxed. Still, his bigger hands circled your wrist as your hand moved. It was just the lightest of touches, your fingertips barely brushing against his skin. You were touching the flesh of his side, before your hand was sliding up and you were moving your palm across his abdomen. Feeling his happy trail, before teasing the edge of his sweatpants. He stared down at you, watching as you gazed up at him. You were still biting your lip, your cheeks were still flushed, but he finally noticed the way your pupils had blown out and- Oh . Vincent wasn't the most experienced. It's probably why it took him this long to figure out what you'd been thinking about. Or what he assumed you were. A quick thought told him he was being silly, that you couldn't possibly want that.

Even as you leaned up to nip and kiss at his collarbone, as your hands pushed his shirt up further and felt the expanse of his chest. Even as you leaned forward to suck a hickey into his chest, leaving him practically trembling. He didn't believe you could want him like that up until you whispered,

***

"Vincent, can I touch you?" You watched as a look of surprise was quick to flit through his eye. He gave you a nod, almost a jerk of his head compared to his usual slow movements. You gave him a grin, before you were sliding your hand under his pants. You'd never been so bold before with him, but you couldn't help it. You wanted to know. Wanted to feel the weight in your hand. On your tongue.

You barely had to brush your fingers against the front of his briefs before you could feel that he was half-hard already. A few more light brushes and he was straining against the material of his underwear. Vincent let out a soft noise, the sound of a puff of air hitting his mask. You had barely touched him, but he already looked half-wrecked. It occurred to you then that Vincent probably wouldn't last long, and it was strange to you. To hold power over someone.

You pushed his sweatpants down his narrow hips, sinking onto your knees in front of him. He practically jumped when he realized what you were doing, and you quickly asked,

"Is this alright?" But he was quick to nod. He leaned back, resting back on the dresser he'd made. He motioned for you to continue, and you smiled up to him as you leaned forward to nuzzle the crotch of his pants. Your nose bumped along his clothed cock, before you were giving it an experimental lick through the fabric of his underwear. You heard him sigh again, and you watched as he tightened his grip on the edge of the dresser. "You're so handsome, Vincent." You whispered the praise, kissing along the waistband before you were tugging his underwear down. You looked up, seeing that his flush was heading down his neck and towards the tips of his ears. Once again you asked, "You're okay, right? You'll tell me if you want me to stop?" He'd started to fist his sweater, to bring it up to hide his face. He gave you another quick nod and you pulled him free. You gave him a few experimental pumps, leaning in to lick along his shaft to lubricate your hand. You watched how Vincent shivered at the feeling of your wet appendage, and you had to bite back a satisfied grin. After that, you didn't waste any time wrapping your mouth around the head of his cock.

You sucked him off slowly, flattening your tongue against the underside as you bobbed your head half-way. He was big, as big as his height and the size of his hands may have suggested, and thick. Even if you were more experienced than him, you found it difficult to fit him completely down your throat.

His hands tugged and pulled at the fabric of his sweater before one of them was cupping the back of your neck. He tilted his hips forward, rocking his hips ever so slightly with every bob of your head. This was the most noise you ever heard Vincent make. He let out little groans and sounds, half-keened whines and breathless gasps. He shivered and trembled with every flick of your tongue. You held his hips, thumbing them as you stared up at him through your lashes. He was keeping his head tossed back, his eye firmly closed from what you could tell. But when he'd finally looked down at you and made eye contact with you, you practically felt his resolve snap.

His hand moved from your neck to the back of your head. He only pressed your head down farther for a few thrusts, ones that practically slid his cock all the way down your throat, before you felt him tense. He held your head, doubling over as he slid his cock down the back of your throat. You could feel his cum hitting the back of your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow around his cock. You could feel tears in the corners of your eyes, and you tried to blink them away as you focused on trying not to gag. He let out a strangled sound, no doubt feeling the muscles of your throat work around his cock. His hips stuttered, before he was pulling out with panting breaths. He leaned back against dresser, his head falling back and strands of his hair falling out from his ponytail from where he'd gripped at it. You almost wished you could take a picture.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, watching him as he calmed himself down and you helped him tuck himself away. You lifted yourself to your feet with his help, and he signed a simple,

"You okay?" And you nearly laughed. Vincent seemed to ask you that at least five times a day.

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" You asked, prodding his chest. You heard him laugh, a soft and raspy sound. He gave you a nod, even if it still seemed like he was collecting himself. He reached out, running a hand through your hair before settling his palm against your cheek. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, running over the sensitive skin. You hummed, parting your lips and sucking his thumb into your mouth. You barely realized what you were doing before you did it, but you gave his thumb a slow suck as you ran your tongue over it. You watched as his eye darkened once more, and you squeaked when he pulled his hand away and tugged you up like you didn't weigh a thing.

You squealed and laughed when your back hit the wax mattress, which, despite looking comfortable, was only slightly less forgiving than if he'd shoved you against the wall. But you barely had time to think about that. Vincent was quickly pushing his mask away from his face and you shut your eyes out of habit. You felt his lips clumsily press against yours, and his confidence was either from the month of practice or from the rage of desire that was flooding his system. He boxed you in with one arm, his other hand quick to trace all the parts he'd already memorized. You giggled. You couldn't help it. You'd never felt Vincent so eager, so confident . It sent the rush of a thrill through you, and you were wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest against his to get him as close as possible.

"Touch me, touch me, touch me," You practically begged, your legs curling around his hips and drawing him closer. He groaned at the press of his front against yours, undeniably sensitive from before. He drew his lips from yours, mouthing down your cheek to your jaw until he reached your neck. His fingers weren't moving fast enough, and you pressed your chest against his hand to urge him further as he fondled you through your shirt. Even as he slipped his hand underneath, teasing and gently twisting your nipples, you knew it wouldn't be enough. You rolled your hips against his, trying to get any sort of friction as you tugged on his black strands of hair. He moaned against your skin, before his lips were attempting to clamp back onto yours. You begged for more, and Vincent wasn't one to keep you waiting. His hand rubbed you through the fabric of your bottoms, and he swallowed the moan that left your lips. He traced your heat through the fabric, pressing hard enough to feel his touch.

It wasn't enough until his hand was slipping inside, slipping past your panties and running his bare fingertips through the folds of your cunt. You whined, gripping his shoulders and bucking your hips against his hand. Vincent pulled away from the kiss, but you were too distracted to care as you guided his fingers over your aching clit.

***

Vincent was watching you, memorizing the expressions you made as you screwed your eyes closed and gasped. You gasped and whined, bucking and practically throbbing against his hand. When he dipped his fingers inside you, he found feel your walls sucking his fingers up. Trying to drag them deeper and swallow them in your warm, wet heat.

His cock was already heavy and hard in his sweatpants again, but he fought the urge to grind against your thigh as he fingered you. This was about you. He pressed the heel of his palm against the spot you'd lead him to, watching the way you shuddered and trembled underneath him. He drew everything in, only muffling your sounds when he needed your lips against his.

He kissed you anywhere his lips reached, trying to silently tell you how beautiful you were. How precious you looked. Everything that he couldn't sign to you with your eyes closed and one of his hands down your pants, his fingers buried and thrusting inside of you.

***

You whimpered as he pushed you further and further, your hips jerking as Vincent listened to every word you told him. He moved his fingers just so, seeming to even listen just to the way your voice would change. You'd been touched before, either by yourself or by your ex, but you couldn't remember a time you'd been listened to so eagerly before. Had someone that could reach the spots inside you that you couldn't.

"Right there, Vincent. Ah- Just like that." He rubbed that spot over and over until your hips were jerking. Whether to get closer or farther away you didn't know. But Vincent pulled back almost completely. You could feel his weight shift, and then you felt his other hand holding you down by pressing his large hand flat against your stomach. So you couldn't move and so you were forced to feel . "Oh, Vincent ." Your voice went up an octave. You tried to fist the sheets of the bed, but all you did was scrape your nails against the wax. You tried to move your hips, but you couldn't. You tried to shift away from the intensity of the pleasure, of how he'd shifted from using the heel of his palm and instead circled your clit with his thumb, but he was relentless. Persistent with his pleasure.

You felt close to tears, a stream of cries and praise leaving your lips before you could feel your thighs start to shake. Your abdomen start to tense. You reached to hold onto his forearm, your nails biting into his skin as the other gripped your own hair. You came around his fingers, a cry of his name leaving your lips as you arched your head back. He didn't stop, even if his actions slowed. You shivered and trembled through the aftershocks, twitching before you finally begged him,

"Open." And you knew that you hadn't been mistaken. It was rare that you heard his voice. You were almost sure that it had been the first time. You knew he didn't speak simply because it pained him to do so, and you knew that he wouldn't do it unless he was absolutely sure. So, slowly, you peeled open your eyes and looked into the half-scarred face of your lover. Your hand glided over the smooth, untouched side of his face. One that was identical to Bo's. You didn't dare touch the scar tissue, as you didn't want to potentially hurt him. But, still, your eyes glided over it as if there wasn't a blemish there. Softly, you whispered,

"Okay, okay, okay, enough. Fuck- Vincent, I can't-" And he finally drew his hand away. You panted and relaxed, slumping against the solid block of wax and waiting until Vincent told you he was ready for you to look. Instead, you felt the plushness of his lips press against yours. It was soft and short, before he was kissing you again. And again, and again. You giggled, running your fingers through the strands of his hair and kissing him back each time. He kissed your cheek and your forehead, before he pressed soft kisses to the back of your eyelids. They nearly fluttered open, but then Vincent did it again. You made a face, questioning if you thought he was telling you to do what you thought he was. Then, he did it again and you heard the raspy whisper of the word,

"Hello, handsome." And you finally got to watch him blush properly.

#house of wax #house of wax (2005)#house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair

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prettyboybarzal · 4 years

Text

Dancing with Our Hands Tied

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: this is a multi-part fic for PLD!!! we all simped over him for a hot minute and i decided to capitalize on it because i mean......... look at him. so, enjoy a little enemies to lovers trope w/ one of my favorite frenchmen. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!! and thank you to @bandgirlsclub for all the help w/ my lil writers block. love u bb. she elevated my dialogue so much. if you don’t follow her, please go follow her now. and then enjoy chapter one!

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pierre didn’t like you because you didn’t like him and no one disliked Pierre Luc Dubois, especially in the city of Columbus. He was a legend. He was the star player, the future of the Blue Jackets. Everyone loved him, except you, so he hated you.

The feud started during his rookie season. He marched into the city of Columbus with his shoulders squared, his head held high, and his ego the size of Nationwide Arena itself. On his very first night out with your friend group, he’d gotten you kicked from a club after starting a fight and then poured his entire drink down your back as you waited for Ubers on the curb.

Out of frustration, you ended up foregoing the car to walk home, despite the protests that came from the other boys. And Pierre laughed as you walked away, amused by the liquid stain on the back of your favorite going out shirt.

No apology ever came, and that was a wrap on any potential friendship with him.

Three years later, nothing changed. Though these days, as Pierre’s comfort around you rebounded, he didn’t avoid you and instead made it his job to antagonize you whenever you were around. He made comments about your outfits, flirted with your friends that had clearly been told to steer clear of him, and fucked up your drink orders whenever he bought rounds for the group. Mostly, you took it in stride with a few choice curse words slung his way, but over time you started to antagonize him right back.

“Asshole at three o’clock.”

It took a moment, but your eyes followed the metaphorical clock of the bar and fell on the group of Blue Jackets pushing their way through the crowd. Leading the way was Pierre sporting a cocky smirk on his lips. He made his way around the group of girls, hugging each one before reaching you and ultimately opting not to say hello and just head for the bar. As soon as he stepped away you were making retching noises with your mouth.

“Back at it again, I see,” Josh Anderson spoke as he wrapped his arms over your shoulders. “You two would get along really well if only you tried.”

“I don’t want to try,” you responded. This earned the laughter of their other teammates, Seth and Boone, as they sat in the open seats at your bar top and joined the conversation that had been on hold for hugs hello.

When Pierre returned to the table, he was toting a tray of drinks. One by one, he placed each glass down with its rightful owner until the last two remained. And then he placed a Shirley Temple in front of you.

“It’s virgin.”

“Just like you,” you spat. While the table erupted in laughter, you stood to get a drink of your own. Preferably one that was heavy on the liquor.

---

Despite everything else, going out with him wasn’t all bad because after a while he just got distracted. He would slink away from the group and find himself surrounded by a bunch of local university students and you were free to enjoy your night without him chirping in your ear. While Pierre and Seth scouted the bar for hot single girls, you stayed back at the booth with your girlfriends, Josh, and Boone.

Drinks flowed as easily as the conversation, as usual, and up until about 11 p.m. there was nowhere else you’d’ve rather been. Until Charlie texted you.

“Uh oh, Chuck’s at it again.”

Josh was peaking over your shoulder.

“Would you stop being nosey?” you growled, angling your body away from him so he couldn’t read your texts—most of which were ‘u up’ texts. “And stop calling him Chuck. It makes it sound like I’m sleeping with a father of three.”

“You might as well be,” Boone said. He dodged the rolled-up napkin you sent his way with a chuckle.

The boys always liked to chirp you for your taste in guys, but Charlie was by far their favorite to make fun of because of the eight-year age gap you shared.

“Remember when YN would stay out past midnight?” Boone mused.

“Yeah, I do,” Josh sighed dreamily. “But then she got wifed up by a silver fox.”

“A silver fox?” you asked, trying your hardest to suppress the grin on your lips. “He has black hair.”

“That’s because he probably dyes it.”

More giggles fell from their mouths until you glared at them and their mouths snapped shut.

You met Charlie on a dating app and while things hadn’t progressed past that one night of dinner and drinks, you didn’t mind the casual sex that resulted from it. It was exactly what you needed at this point of your life—no strings attached.

I just called you a car. Should be there in 10 minutes.

You took the final swig of your drink and stood. The boys’ eyes followed your movement, knowing smiles on their lips.

“I’ll see you guys later this week, yeah?”

You said your goodbyes, ignoring the last-minute jabs the boys wanted to get in, and began to search the bar for Seth. You spotted him at a table across the bar with a gaggle of petite girls and Pierre by his side. The moment you looked over at them, Pierre caught your eye.

You started walking over as he checked the time on his watch. 11:45 p.m. You never left before midnight.

Seth opened his arms as you approached and you folded into them as you said your goodbyes. Something about the interaction had Pierre turning away to talk to the girls they’d met. It was the same pit in his stomach type of feeling he got whenever you were around, whenever you embraced the other boys with a quick peck on the cheek or laughed at one of their shitty jokes.

He heard you say your final goodbye to Seth and your shoulder brushed against his back unknowingly as you avoided saying goodbye to him. He almost let you go unbothered, but his need to talk to you just once more was overwhelming. At the very last second, he turned and caught your elbow.

“Who’s got you running off before midnight, Cinderella?”

“It’s funny you think you deserve an answer to that question,” you growled, pulling your arm out of his grasp in disgust. He leaned back against the table with a smile. Your eyes flickered to the girls behind him, one with a glare set on you as she sipped her drink.

A lightbulb went off above your head.

You stepped forward, squeezing yourself between Pierre and Seth’s bodies to get a word in with the girls around the table.

“Can I offer you all some free advice?” you asked, even though you were going to give it to them anyway. “This one,” you spoke, nodding to Pierre. You dropped your voice to a whisper and the girls inched forward to catch your words. “He’s been around the block, if you know what I mean. I’d make sure he wraps it before he taps it. Who knows the last time he’s gotten tested?”

You slipped out from between the boys, ignoring the curses that fell from Pierre’s lips as you walked away.

---

You left Charlie’s at 7 the next morning. Although you tried not to make a habit of sleeping at his apartment, there were some nights that you ignored the voice inside your head. You dressed yourself in the outfit from the night before and stepped into his bathroom to check your make-up and fix your hair before allowing the world to see you in all your one night stand glory.

Last night was one of the worst nights you’d spent with him. He was off from the moment you got in the door to the moment he fell asleep after finishing. You ended up completely unsatisfied and if you hadn’t been as tired as you were, you probably would’ve gone home to bring your own self to orgasm since he so clearly couldn’t.

As you shut his front door behind you, another door in the hall shut. You looked up to see which neighbor had entered the hallway and immediately felt your stomach drop.

“This? This is the place you ran off to last night?” Pierre was standing at the next door over. He looked astounded, eyes flickering between you and the door you’d just come out of. “You’re fucking my neighbor? Isn’t he like 40?”

“You live here?” you asked, eyes wide as you took in the sight of Pierre in front of you. His hair was still messy from sleep, but he was dressed in his Blue Jackets workout gear and on his way out the door.

“I moved in at the beginning of the season,” he answered. He stepped forward and you stepped backwards in response. “But you wouldn’t know that because you didn’t come to my housewarming party.”

You didn’t think he was serious when he extended the invite, and you were almost positive your response was along the lines of ‘I’d never step foot inside your house.’

With a scoff, you turned and continued down the hall. He was hot on your heels the entire way to the elevator and slowed to a stop to wait beside you when you pressed the down button. You were surprised when he didn’t immediately start digging deeper about your night. He was more preoccupied with whatever was on his phone than you, thankfully, though you were certain once he had you in the enclosed space of the elevator he’d start prying.

When the doors of the elevator finally opened, Pierre stepped in and held his hand out to keep the doors open for you. You stayed put.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” you said stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. He let out a dry laugh, eyes rolling before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the confined space with him.

The doors shut.

“You’re fucking dramatic.”

The elevator began its descent to the lobby and, all the while, you could feel him watching you.

“Can you stop?” you spat, shooting him a glare from the other corner of the elevator.

He studied you for a moment before asking, “Quiet in bed?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you quiet in bed?” he asked, slower this time, like you were too stupid to understand what he said before. You couldn’t find the words to answer, jaw ajar as your brain tried to catch up to his question. “I’m only asking because I’m pretty sure Charlie and I share a bedroom wall, and his place was completely silent last night.”

“You’re a pig.”

Pierre chuckled, satisfied with the reaction he’d gotten out of you, and continued talking, “Unless he can’t get you off.”

“Familiar with that problem, huh?”

“Not in the slightest,” he answered.

“As far as you know,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. The last place in the world you wanted to be was with Pierre in this elevator and you wanted him to know that.

“Not that you will ever get the chance to experience it yourself, but I know my way around the bedroom,” Pierre countered easily. Too easily.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I’m sure, what, with your body count in the hundreds probably. Statistically, you would have to have gotten at least 50% off.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know how many girls I have in my bed every week,” Pierre grinned, his ego oozing out of his every word.

“Not even a little bit,” you sighed. Your fingers came up to your temple as you tried to rub away the migraine that was beginning to take form. “Where you put your dick is of no concern to me, unless you decide to put it in a blender. Then, and only then, will I give a shit.”

“See, I think you care an awful lot more than you let on, princess,” Pierre said. Your face twisted in disgust at the pet name. “And I think that no matter how much you want to hate me, you really don’t. You’re just jealous that I’m not fucking you.”

That pushed you over the edge, the ounce of patience that you had left in your system had been blown to pieces with that comment.

“Would you pull your head out of your ass for once in your life, Pierre?” you spat. “I wouldn’t let you touch me with a ten foot pole, much less your filthy dick. My sex life is none of your god damn business. Actually, scratch that, my life is none of your business. I only put up with you because we run in the same group of friends, so don’t try and get cute with me. If I had things my way I would never have even met you, much less learned your name.”

Pierre opened his mouth to speak, likely to try and counter everything you had just said with a dig, but you held your hand up to silence him.

“We don’t have to like each other, Pierre, but you don’t have to be such a raging asshole about it. I thought at some point you might get tired of being a complete dick but your endurance is impressive, I’ll give you that. So listen to me carefully when I tell you I want nothing to do with you.”

The elevator stopped at the lobby and you made a beeline to the front door of the lobby to begin your walk home in silence. Beautiful, peaceful, Pierre-less silence.

---

The silence didn’t last long.

You were halfway through your skin care routine when your phone rang, piercing through the otherwise quiet apartment. Across your home screen, your sister’s name flashed over a goofy photo from New Years.

“What do you want?” you asked after swiping to accept. Your sister’s face filled the screen with a fake offended look on it. You giggled. “Listen, Sadie, the only time I’ve heard from you since you moved back to school has been because you needed me to do something for you.”

“Okay, well,” she started. You raised your eyebrows at her in amusement. You knew this was coming. “It’s not really me who needs something.”

“Which one of your friends needs something then?”

“Mom,” she said with a laugh. Confusion flashed over your features, so she continued, “My friends are all going home next weekend and I decided I’d do the same because why would I want to be here without them, right?” You nodded as she rambled on. “But when I told Mom I wanted to come home, she told me that her and Dad are going to be out of town.”

“They’re going away?”

“Yeah, and she doesn’t want me home alone.”

You laughed out loud. It was so typical of your mom to not trust Sadie to be home alone for a few days. She turned 21 months ago and yet she still wasn’t trusted by your parents. You couldn’t say you blamed them. Sadie wasn’t exactly the most responsible.

“Stay at school then.”

“See, I was gonna do that,” she trailed off. “But she already bought me a plane ticket to see you.” Your jaw dropped, but you closed it at the sight of your sister’s apologetic face. “I’m really sorry, but on the brightside, I can finally party with you and all your boy toys! Especially the French one you hate so much,” she said his name in a French accent, “Pierre Luc Dubois, or whatever his sexy ass name is.”

And that was exactly what you were worried about.

#pierre luc dubois fic #pierre luc dubois story #pierre luc dubois imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #dancing with our hands tied fic #mk writes #hockey fic #hockey story #nhl story #nhl fic #columbus blue jackets fic #columbus blue jackets imagine

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klbwriting · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 13

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: this is mostly fluff with some revenge and soul searching

Note: I just really wanted some fluff and then it turned into some deep soul digging for Kaz

Taglist: @mcntsee @amwitherspoon

Kaz could not stand how long his hair had gotten in the last 8 months. It was brushing his shoulders and he hardly looked threatening. And for what he was planning to do to the Dime Lion who had taken Y/N he needed to look threatening. She had been back for a month now and the bastard who had turned her in was still in prison, supposedly awaiting a trial, but Kaz was pretty sure Mal was trying to think of something terrible to do to him. He should leave that kind of planning up to Kaz, he knew what he was doing in that area. "Oretsev we had a deal, either leadership comes up with a punishment for Harv or I do," Kaz said after finding out that yet another meeting had gone by and they were somehow still letting that traitorous asshole breathe. Mal threw Kaz a look as several leadership members walked by them on their way out. "Look Brekker, we need to come to an agreement, all of the leaders or nothing happens, he remains in his cell," Mal said loud enough for the other leaders to hear. Once they had walked further away, he leaned close and put an arm around Kaz. Kaz shoved it off and glared. "Tonight, let him out of the cell, tell him to run...we'll let him think he's safe, I already let slip about the hunters' hut outside of the gates, then you can have your fun alright?" Kaz looked a little surprised. "I didn't picture you as a thug Oretsev," he said, looking a little proud. Mal just shrugged. "People need to stop trying to kill my family," he said before turning to walk away. Kaz watched him for a moment, thinking that maybe he would turn Mal into a thug yet. Then he caught sight of his hair in a pot hanging on a drying wire and snarled. This needed fixed. He stalked around until he found scissors and a mirror and went back to his tent, getting ready to take of it himself. In Ketterdam he had a Dreg do it, all the while making sure to close his eyes and picture himself anywhere but there. Now he would just have to figure it out on his own. The tent flap opened and Y/N wandered in but stopped when she saw him shirtless, holding up a mirror with one hand and scissors in the other. Kaz froze and looked at her. She smiled and shook her head, walking over and setting up the mirror on the small table in the room. "Let me," she said, motioning for him to sit in the chair. He sat down and handed her the scissors. "Let me know..." "I will," Kaz said, finishing the sentence. He sat there as she started cutting, not minding at all when she touched his shoulders or his back. "I'm going to be busy tonight." He didn't want to tell her what he was planning even though she knew he was capable of terrible things. He somehow thought if she saw him in that way, committing the horrors he was so well practiced at, that it would change how she looked at him and he loved how she looked at him. He was silent for a long time just watching her trim his hair, getting him back to the old Kaz, the Ketterdam Kaz Brekker. "I wrote you a song when I was in prison," she said suddenly. He started to turn his head but she stopped him and gently made him look forward again. "You were in prison, cuffed to the ceiling, and you wrote me a song?" he asked, dumbfounded. He was once again flattered but not sure how she had even thought about him. "I had to do something to stop thinking about what was happening to me there," she said. "You were the one thing that kept me going. Do you want to hear it?" "Is it finished?" he asked. She nodded and cleared her throat.

"Can I tell you something just between you and me? When I hear your voice, I know I'm finally free Every single word is perfect as it can be And I need you here with me When you lift me up, I know that I'll never fall I can speak to you by saying nothing at all Every single time, I find it harder to breathe 'Cause I need you here with me"

Kaz just listened, watching her in the mirror. Y/N from the start had been honest with him, opened herself up to him. For most people that would have been their downfall, he could use their shame against them to get whatever he wanted, but not with her. When she spoke her secrets they didn't seem to make her weak, they made her stronger, something he had never seen before. He knew he had kept her at a distance like everyone else. She didn't really know him, not really. She knew the Kaz that he chose to show her and maybe it was time for her to know everything. Why was he hiding anything from her anyway? Once she finished her song he stared at her. "My name isn't Kaz Brekker," he said softly. She looked at him, not surprised, she had probably figured out that his name was fake, but expectant. She had hoped this would happen, been waiting patiently for him to truly accept her the way she accepted him. He took a deep breath. "My name is Kaz Rietveld, when I was 9 my father died and my big brother Jordie went to Ketterdam..." She went back to cutting his hair, listening as he told her everything, every single detail he could remember, about Jordie, about what Rollins did to them, about becoming one of the Dregs, everything. She listened quietly, finished his hair at some point during his story. After he was finished she set down the scissors and leaned in, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind and just holding him. She seemed to realize what she'd done after a moment and started to pull back, but he put up his hands, holding her in place and leaning to her. She turned to look at him, face just inches from his and Kaz Brekker for the first time willingly kissed a girl. His lips took hers gently, only for a few seconds before he needed to pull away. He wasn't sick but he couldn't do more than that.

Y/N had instantly regretted just grabbing onto Kaz like she had. She had wanted to give him some comfort after her told her his story but hadn't meant to force herself on him. She started to pull back, expecting him to get up and walk away, needing some space. When he instead held her there she was so happy she nearly cried. She faced him, leaning to his shoulder when he looked at her. As surprised as she was when he let her hold him she was less surprised when he kissed her. She had seen the look and knew what he was going to do and she had known the feeling of his lips would make her melt. What she didn't know what what he would say after. "I love you Y/N," he said softly. She could tell the words sounded foreign to him, it wasn't something he had in a long time, if ever, but she knew he meant them. She smiled at him and kissed his forehead for a moment. "I love you too Kaz," she said, standing now and playing with his hair a little. "I remember this is what you looked like when you first came into that prison." He nodded, running his own hand through it. "So tonight, after you're done being busy are we meeting at the stream." He looked at her surprised. She knew at least a little of what he planned. He had been grumbling about killing Harv since they returned and yet hadn't had the opportunity. Then she saw him and Mal talking after the meeting and knew some kind of deal had been struck. "Am I that transparent to you?" he asked. She nodded. "Yes, we live together in the same tent, and I listen to every word you say," she answered. She sat on her cot and he looked at the distance between them. "Can you push those together while I'm gone?" he asked. She smiled and nodded.

At 11 bells Kaz unlocked the cell Harv was in. He opened the door, moved to the shadows and threw in a rock that hit Harv in the face. The man sat up, ready to fight but would see nothing but an open cell. He must have thought it was his lucky day, if only he knew that a demon was waiting on the other side for him. He left quickly and Kaz took his time following, one of his knives dancing in his hand. Harv went into the hunters' hut, expecting to sleep there before moving on most likely. All he would get inside there was being shown the same treatment as his boss Rollins. Only this time no one would find his body. After it was done Kaz once again vomited, just like with Rollins. He was still amazed that earlier that day that he had kissed Y/N but now he couldn't stomach having touched Harv. Of course, having to move a dead body had brought back horrific memories for him that he was having a hard time stamping down. He tried to calm down as he headed towards the stream to meet Y/N. She was waiting for him on the side and he stripped, climbing into the water. She walked over, moving to help clean him but he shook his head, pushing her hands away. "What do you need me to do?" she asked him, seeing his hollowed eyes. "Just, sit on the shore and be quiet," he snapped. He regretted the way he talked to her but he was frayed, he had pushed himself too much. He got cocky, thinking he was cured of his disease but it had just come rushing back, reminded him of how broken he was. Y/N didn't say anything, just did as he asked, going and sitting down. She waited quietly as he scrubbed his skin raw and dressed again, sitting several feet away from her. "How bad was it?" she asked finally, the quiet feeling too strained between them. "I thought you fixed me, turns out I'm never going to be fixed," he said, picking up some pebbles and throwing them in the stream. "How can you even stand me? I don't do anything for anyone but myself, I can never be what you want..." "Don't tell me what I want Kaz. I can handle your mood swings, your issues with touch, your secrets, but what I will not tolerate is you sitting there and trying to tell me what I want! I am so tired of men telling me what I should want and who I should be with," she said. Kaz was struck by her tone. She had never been this angry with him. "I spent a month being tormented, the only reason I wasn't ruined entirely is the Darkling supposedly has a plan for me, he's decided my future now that he knows what my abilities are and I will not have you trying to plan my future too." "How do you know you won't get tired of this? Of me and my issues? My secrets?" he demanded. "Because I know my heart Kaz, it is broken beyond belief, I have only known loss since I was a child and as much as you think that I am so well adjusted and full of happiness you have no idea how deep this emptiness inside me is, how much of a shattered person I am. We are both broken Kaz but we do not need to be fixed," she said. Kaz stood up slowly and for a moment he thought about walking away from her, but he knew he couldn't. She was right, they were broken beyond repair, but together maybe they could piece themselves together into something new. He walked over to her and offered her his hand. She took it and stood, walking back to the encampment together. That night they slept close, holding hands the entire night.

#six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #kaz x reader #kazbrekker #kaz brekker #kaz #unexpected allies series

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tlou-1 · 3 years

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Joel Miller x Reader (Home) Chapter 20

Chapter 20 - Joel still hasn't returned from patrol, you set off after him and what you find is beyond what you could have worried about.

You look at the clock again, 11:15 and still Joel wasn’t back. You had been pacing the kitchen with Patrick playing at your feet, Joel was over an hour late. Another half an hour passed and you couldn’t sit in the house any longer. You picked up Patrick and made your way to Maria’s post for the day in town, “Maria it’s been two hours and none of them are back. Looks at the clouds out there, somethings wrong I can just feel it” You plead with her but she just says they have probably bunkered down with the snow, “and nothing on the radio either?” You ask, she shakes her head. Right that settled it, you turned and made your way to your sisters. Before Molly could greet you as she opened the door you began “Joel has been out since dark this morning and still isn’t back. I need you to take Patrick for me”, you try to hand him to her but she says “No”, there is a pause for a moment “No? What do you mean No, Molly I really need” but she interrupts you by grabbing a jacket and locking her door, “Because I am coming with you. We can drop him off at the day care”.

You and Molly try to sneak into the stables to retrieve a horse each but of course Maria had you sussed and was waiting for you. “Maria I need to go out there, I know it sounds crazy but I have a bad feeling” you argue.

“You’re right, it does sound crazy“ she responds, she was always so set on rules.

“Do you know what, maybe it does but it’s your husband out there as well. Tell me you aren’t worried about them being out there with no sleep, in a blizzard with reports of hoards of infected. I am more capable than most folk in this town and I am going out there” you say sternly close to her face and she knew you were not going to budge.

“Okay” she concedes and proceeds to pass you the reigns of the horse and your bag back filled with your gear. “I cant spare many folks to go out with you, Jesse, Dina and Ellie are already out there you can meet them at one of the posts” she explains. Jesus now your worry turned to them but your line of thought is interrupted by the radio, it was Jesse. “Maria, Tommy and Joel didn’t show to trade off” he explained. You take the radio from Maria, “Jesse its Y/N, where were they patrolling? Can you get, Ellie and Dina and meet me there?” You ask, he agrees to your plan. Your sister in laws body language had changed during the exchange.

“We need to go now” you shout to Molly as your get on your horse and take off. Behind you Molly is following and Maria had saddled up obviously now sharing in your worry.

The wind and snow was harsh and whipped at your face as you rode ahead as fast as the horse would carry you, you must have been not far behind Ellie now. Neither Joel or Tommy’s had been at their post but their tracks had led you to a Chalet you had visited a couple of times on patrols. As you approached closer you could see more than two sets of tracks, they were disrupted slightly from the storm but there was defiantly a number of different footprints, other people were here. You had to be smart about this, the rest of the guys were still a bit behind you. You move into the building as quietly as possible and have to take out one guy standing watch at a patio door, he had a fresh cut right across his face. If anyone finds him they will know someone else is here, you had to move swiftly. As soon as enter the lodge you can hear cries of pain, guttural cries. It makes your stomach churn, you were right to have had a bad feeling. One more girl is pacing in the kitchen, you silence her by taking your small knife down on her. It had been a number of years since you had taken the life of a living person but you didn’t hesitate after hearing those cries.

You follow the cries to a narrow staircase with a door at the bottom of it, you could feel your heart in you mouth as you took each step closer to the door. You peer through the slight crack and see a group of unfamiliar people and a figure standing above a bloody one. You take a breath remember where each person was standing, attach your silencer and pushing open the door quietly, you take out the three people closest to the door, one dead ahead the other two to your right side. You were still one of the best shots without a doubt, maybe just as good as Tommy. There were three left by the time they realised what had happened and your presence, a young man standing next to a women with cropped dark hair and a large women standing above the bloody figure, it was Joel along with Ellie and Tommy unconscious.

The man goes to grab a pistol, lying next to the body of one of the men you just shot and without hesitation you reach round to your backpack pocket. Thank god it was still there.

“Don’t any of you fucking move, or I will blow up everyone of us in this room” you spit out as you hold the grenade in their sight. They each stop in their tracks and the large girl standing above your husband loosens her grip on club. Joel tires to speak but barely a sound escapes his lips.

“You’re bluffing, why would y-“ she begins.

“Try me”, you challenge her and there is a long pause “You let them go… you leave here and everyone gets to walk away from this or every single one of us just end it here”. This was madness but what other chance had you got, either way the people you loved could wind up dead, the only thing to stop these strangers was the threat of loosing their own lives and if it meant you went with them, so be it.

“No, not him, not after what he did.” The girl lifted the club but you jump in “What ever he did, I am walking out of here with him, our daughter and that other man alive or none of us are”

“He took everything from us! Killed my father, ruined any chance of a cure” the women says lowly shaking her head.

“You’re fireflies?” You ask looking around at them but you already know the answer from what she had said.

“Were. There are none, left he made sure of that. Killed most of us.” She answers. You speak without thinking, a stupid thing to do.

“I don’t blame him… Protecting her, I would have done the same. They were going to butcher the brain of a child, our daughter for the smallest chance of cure. If that’s the price for a potential cure and humanity were so eager and willing to pay it, we didn’t deserve it. I know that much.”

She looks like she has seen red and goes to lift the club again but before she can send it crashing down one of the fireflies, the man stops her and you have pulled the pin on the grenade keeping your finger firmly pressed on the clip as he intervenes.

“Abby stop! She is going to kill all of us” he pleads with her looking between Abby and the women behind him with cropped dark hair that he called Mel. Your hand is shaking from your firm grip on the clip.

“Are you insane?” The man asked, “When it comes to my family, yes” You reply looking down at Joel and Ellie.

“Figures, crazy man, crazy wife” scoffs the other woman says looking between you and Joel.

“Don’t fucking touch him. I am giving you all a chance, take it. If I let go of this clip, dead or alive it only takes two seconds for this thing to go off”. You try sounding as calm as possible and it seems to pay off but inside your terrified more than you had ever been. In your head you pray, you had never prayed in your life, for them to leave, for the woman to put down the club, for them not to shoot you, for this bomb to be a dud like Joel had said but for them to not find out it was.

You can hear commission from upstairs as the rest of the search party have caught up with you, you had bought all the time you needed. Owen grabs Mel by the arm and leaves through garage door.

“You should go with your friends”

Abby looks torn for a moment her eyes fixed on Joel before she flings the golf club to her side and takes off, on horse back alongside her friends but you felt this part of the past would rear its ugly head again.

As soon as it sounds clear you carefully place the pin back in the grenade and fall to the floor, guess you will never know if it was a dud or you almost killed everyone in this room. Ellie is still breathing but bruised, you look across at Tommy, the same. Your husband, you crawl across to Joel, the ground around him covered in blood you can feel it soaking your jeans.

“Jesus, Joel can you hear me?” you say softly, tears in your eyes from the sight of him. His right eye swollen, strips of blood pouring down his face from a couple gashes he had taken on the head. You were worried to touch him in case it caused any more pain, it was hard to look at him like this.

“You got to stay with me, you cant leave me, you hear? You promised” you cry just as Maria, Jesse, Dina and Molly enter the room.

“Holy Fuck” Jesse whispers. You beg them to help Joel, Dina checks on Ellie who is starting to gain consciousness along with Tommy.

“The storm has almost passed, Jesse and Dina find something we can make a stretcher out of. We can strap it to one of the horses and pull him back”. Maria says at her husbands side, it was the best anyone could do in the dead of winter. No one even thought about going after the remaining three strangers, what was important was the three people who each of you loved in this room.

You rode behind Jesse who’s horse is pulling Joel the entire trip, he sometimes groans or shifts and all you want to do is ask to stop and let him rest but there was no time for it, you had to get back as swiftly as possible. As soon as you arrive back in Jackson men are there to carry Joel’s stretcher into the surgery, you follow behind asking Dr Henry if he would be okay. She didn’t respond focusing solely on Joel, she tells you to stay in the hallway and when you start to protest and push forward Jesse is there pulling you back and when you stop fighting him into a hug. You finally let out a cry from everything, the horror of what you had seen, what you had almost done and at the thought of your husband’s life still hanging in the balance. Everything goes to black for a moment.

*NOTES - I have to say I found this one pretty difficult to write so I apologise if it doesn't land as well as the other chapters. There is just so much that happens. I have decided to deviate slightly from the game, we have all seen the dark ending for Joel in the game so lets try something different

#the last of us fanfic #The Last of Us #The Last of Us Part 2 #The Last of Us Part ii #Joel Miller #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou joel #tloufanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #Ellie Williams #ellie x joel #tlou ellie #tlou dina #tlou jesse

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chaolie · 3 years

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Home is where your heart is [2/3] - A new home

Here we go, another chapter for @fundyfiles' event! This chapter is probably the angstiest I'll write for this story, so keep that in mind! It's almost as long as the last one too, which I think is great! You can also find this on my Ao3!

Characters: Fundy, Yogurt, Foolish, others mentioned

Words: 3.6k

Warning: Injury (not described closely)

Chapter 1: Tumblr / Ao3

Las Nevadas was... quite a change from the forest. The thing that seemed to intrigue Yogurt the most was the sand, the boy spent the first few hours just putting his hands into it and inspecting it. Fundy knew for a fact that his son saw sand before, but never so much of it in one place, just small patches of it by the river. After the initial confusion, Yogurt appeared to accept his surroundings, and almost every time Fundy looked, he was playing in the sand. He kept running around and going back to look at the shapes he left, which quickly changed into him just drawing with his hands or, if he could find one, a stick. If he felt a bit more mischievous though, he would change into a fox, dig a hole, and then back into a human to 'decorate' it, creating a surprisingly efficient trap. It wasn't too hard to avoid those though, and the only major downside Fundy found so far was getting the sand out of his son's hair, fur, and clothes at the end of each day.

Las Nevadas had many other differences from their previous home, though. It was big, it had so much open space that they could probably walk around with their eyes closed and wouldn’t have to worry about running into a tree. It was also much louder and brighter, the countless lamps lined the streets and sometimes you couldn’t tell it was nighttime without looking up and finding the moon. It made it harder for Yogurt to fall asleep, but he always managed when Fundy sat by his side, humming soft melodies as if they were lullabies before going off to wander the streets. It helped to keep him awake, and he really didn’t want to go to sleep. His nightmares were getting more frequent, and the last thing he wanted was to alert the entire country whenever he woke up.

Speaking of, that must’ve been the biggest difference. The people. Well, they weren’t all people, most of the residents had some inhuman traits in one way or the other, but that didn’t matter too much. At first, Fundy was worried to show them his son, he wasn’t sure how’d they treat him, so for a while, only Quackity knew. Still, it was hard to hide an entire child from them, so one by one, they all figured out who the little boy they sometimes saw running around was. And they took it well, they helped Fundy if he asked, and it became an unspoken rule that if they spot him anywhere without his dad in sight, they should either inform the man, or look after him themselves. It was a good rule, he thought. It certainly made it easier to keep calm if he lost sight of Yogurt for a moment.

Some people agreed to help even more than that, and Fundy couldn’t be more grateful for them. He came up with a way to keep himself awake for longer, but he’d need someone to look after Yogurt while he tried it out. He didn’t expect much, he just hoped someone would agree to go check on him a few times a day to make sure he had food and was safe, maybe put him to bed if they felt like spending a bit more time there. Foolish, the first person he asked and a father as well, agreed to do much more than that, though. They briefly went over how Fundy took care of Yogurt and almost everything was settled, they only needed to let the kid know.

“Hey, Yogurt!” Fundy called out, and the fox kit’s head peaked out from the small tent he set up for the two of them until their new house would be finished. “Come here, I need to tell you something.”

The fox hid back inside of the tent, and just moments later ran outside as a kid instead. Fundy was very proud of how well the boy learned to shapeshift, it took him just a moment to switch from being a fox to a human and back, and the man was sure that soon there would be a day his son would be better than him at that. This wasn’t the time to marvel at that, though, there was a serious talk they had to have. As the child finally ran up to him, he crouched down and took a deep breath.

“So… You know Foolish, right?” he asked, looking over his shoulder and at the mentioned man trailing slowly behind him. Yogurt nodded eagerly. “That’s good. I… have to go somewhere, and it could take a while, so if you need anything just ask him. Okay?”

“Where...?” the kid asked, his expression falling slightly.

“Uh… you remember Quackity? He asked me to get something, but to do that, I have to travel west for a while. It could take a day, but it’ll probably be longer. But Foolish will look after you until I’m back, okay?” he explained. Despite still looking upset, the boy in front of him nodded slowly.

“...Okay,” he repeated before stepping closer and trapping his dad in a warm hug. “Bye…?” he muttered. With how rarely Fundy left, he barely used the word so far.

“Bye,” Fundy answered with a nod. “I’ll be back before you know it, I promise,” he added, gently patting his son’s head until the boy let go.

Staying on the move should help him stay awake, right? And Yogurt would be fine.

***

11 days. That’s how much time passed since Fundy left, how much time Yogurt had to spend alone. Well, not alone, Foolish took care of him, and occasionally someone else dropped by and left him some berries or other treats. His ‘designated babysitter’ sometimes brought his own kids along, and the boy really enjoyed the new company. They were fun to play with even if they just wanted to build sandcastles all day, at least Yogurt could show off his newly developed skill to his dad when he was back! Whenever that would be.

Foolish assured him every evening, it would be okay, Fundy would return soon enough. He’d return with the item he was tasked with getting and he’d probably bring Yogurt some gifts too. He also talked about how well the man could protect himself, and about how safe he must be staying… but the kid didn’t doubt that to begin with. He wasn’t worried that his dad would get hurt or lost, he was just… lonely. He missed him. Having his dad near meant that he was safe, and that he was home… and while the tent he still slept in was comfortable and all the people caring for him were very nice, they couldn’t just replace that.

Around noon on the 12th day, the boy heard a commotion down the road, a few people were talking loudly, some cheered and some laughed. He assumed it was something good, and that he didn’t need to go hide anywhere, so instead he left the tent and decided to build a tiny sandcastle. Maybe Foolish would bring Junior or Finley again and he could show it off to them? He was almost done with the build when he heard someone approaching.

“Yogurt!” Fundy called out to him, and the boy stopped in the middle of fixing up a tower of his sandcastle. “I’m back!”

“Yeah! Look, it’s your dad!” Foolish called too, presumably just behind the man.

Did Yogurt feel happy, relieved? Of course he did, his dad was finally back, he was here and he wouldn’t leave again anytime soon… But at the same time, he felt strangely disappointed. Sad, even. The man said he’d be gone for a few days at most, and it’s been so so long since then, yet he was just running up to him as if nothing happened. As if he kept his word, his promise. That’s probably why Yogurt didn’t look in the direction of his voice, and instead went back to his build. It wasn’t unreasonable to be upset, was it? Soon, Fundy crouched down by his side and looked over the castle he was making while Foolish stopped on the boy’s other side.

“What are you making, buddy? Is this a sandcastle? It looks great!” his dad praised, and Yogurt did his best to stop his tail from wagging. With a pout, he continued making the castle. He’d ignore his dad until he apologized, that was the best way, wasn’t it?

“Did you make this all by yourself?” Foolish asked, also admiring his work. And Yogurt decided that since the man was the one to look after him, he could get an answer.

“Yeah!” he nodded, his pout getting replaced with a grin for a second.

“...Yogurt?” Fundy asked. “Hey, Yogurt, are you- Hey? Buddy? Can you look at me for a moment?” he tried to get his attention, and for a moment, the boy considered answering, but then Foolish snickered.

“Looks like I’m the dad now?” the man suggested. Yogurt laughed quietly at that, and his actual dad let out a dramatic gasp.

“What?! Yogurt, is that true?” he asked. Figuring that the man was playing along, the boy nodded before pointing at Foolish.

“Dad,” he announced, and Fundy gasped again, quickly getting to his feet.

“No, that’s-! I-” he stuttered out before seemingly collecting himself. “Fight me! Duel me! Foolish, duel me for custody!” he demanded, not angrily… just demanded.

“Sure,” the other man nodded. “Sure, we can do that,” he agreed, stifling a laugh. “When do you want to fight?” he asked.

“Now! Right now!” Fundy decided. Yogurt wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed what a great actor his dad was. “I don’t need to rest, let’s go now!”

“Are you…? Okay, sure. Come on, we can do that,” Foolish agreed, and with just a few steps, Fundy was in front of him. “Wait, here?”

“Hm…” the man hesitated. “No, let’s go… under the Eiffel tower! Let’s settle it there!”

And with that, they were off. Yogurt looked after them as they walked before returning to building his castle. Sure, he’d love to give his dad at least one hug before he’d go ‘duel’ with Foolish, but if he survived 12 days without that, 5 more minutes wouldn’t hurt. Because how long could a playful duel last? He hoped it’d take them just long enough for him to finish his build and look through the chests Fundy set up by the tent. They were mostly filled with materials to build their new house, but a few days earlier Yogurt spotted a nice flower growing between the desert and the sea and it was now somewhere with the items. It was meant to be a gift for when his dad would return, and it waited for the day for quite a while now, but the boy still wanted to give it to the man.

***

Fundy’s mind felt hazy, that was the best way to describe it. He was exhausted, he allowed himself to close his eyes just twice during his journey and had a nightmare both of those times. And as if that wasn’t enough to go through, he was now supposed to fight for his son. A sword in one hand and a shield in the other, he had to focus to keep his balance and come up with any kind of strategy, so he didn’t bother questioning the situation. Didn’t bother wondering why would Foolish try to do this, or how the strong bond he had with Yogurt could fall apart so easily. He just had to focus and win the duel, then he could rest.

His son was on the line.

The first time Foolish took a step toward him, his fight or flight instinct kicked in and the next thing he knew he was running. He stopped, no, he couldn’t do that. He returned to his spot and took a couple of breaths to calm down. His opponent laughed and asked if he still wanted to do the duel, as if Fundy had a choice. As if he could just step back and decide the fight wasn’t worth it. His grip on his sword tightened as he shot back a short confirmation. They agreed to fight until one of them surrenders, but he promised himself right there that he’d never do that. No, he’d win or he’d die fighting.

How was Foolish so calm about this? As if this was some stupid joke, and not…

***

Yogurt was already back in his tent, his castle long finished, when heavy footsteps in the sand appeared. He wasn’t all that surprised, his dad did seem tired while he left for the ‘duel’, he was probably barely awake now. He didn’t look at him yet, he was too busy putting the flower he prepared for him in one of the corners without making it too obvious. Before he could make sure it was hidden well enough, though, the man already spoke up.

“...Hey, Yogurt, I… I won the duel, I-” Fundy announced, and he didn’t sound just tired, but exhausted. His breaths were concerningly heavy, and he spoke slowly. “...Will you look at me now?”

The voice in which he said that immediately made Yogurt spin around. He sounded so sad, so tired, as if that was the only thing in the world that mattered to him anymore. The state in which the boy saw his dad was nowhere near what someone after a play-duel should look like. He was obviously injured, there was a cut running across his chest and some blood stained his clothes. Not a concerning amount, but it was still blood. With how exhausted he was on top of that, it was a miracle he was still standing. A miracle that didn’t last long, because almost as soon as his son finally looked at him, he tumbled to the ground.

“Oh, I- I’m so-” he tried to say while Yogurt quickly got to his feet and approached him. What happened? He’s never seen his dad so hurt before, what happened? “I thought I’d- I’d lose and you-” he tried to explain.

The boy finally put what happened together. He realized that his dad took the duel so much more seriously than he expected, that the man must’ve fought as if everything depended on it. And now that he won, and that his son finally looked at him again, he was just… barely holding back his tears. Yogurt’s ears flattened against his head as he felt oh-so-terribly guilty, he shouldn’t have ignored his father when he came back. He hesitantly stepped closer to the man and gave him the biggest hug he could. It usually helped, right?

“Dad,” he said quietly, his way of assuring the man that that’s what he saw him as.

“I- I’m so happy,” Fundy claimed, hugging his son back and rocking him gently to the sides. “M-my boy, my beautiful boy!”

And the child didn’t want to ever pull away from the hug. Once he did, to help his dad into the tent so he could rest, he spotted Foolish standing a bit from them, still on the road. He had a few scratches too, and the shield hanging loosely off the side of his hand had concerningly deep cuts. Yogurt quickly looked away from him and instead led Fundy to their ‘temporary home’. He helped him sit down on the blanket they set up before going to get the flower he previously put in the corner. It would cheer his dad up, surely it would.

“Dad?” he said again, getting the man’s attention. Even being called the title seemed to bring a smile to his face, but the boy still held out his gift.

“...Is that for me?” he asked, and Yogurt nodded. He carefully reached for it and looked it over, his smile only growing. “Thank you, it’s… it’s beautiful. Thank you, Yogurt. My boy. My child, my… oh, come here.”

He spread his hands for a hug, and his son didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him again. Flower in his hand and his boy in his arms, Fundy allowed himself to finally relax. The next thing he knew, he was already lying down, his eyes closing on their own and Yogurt’s head resting against him as the boy muttered a goodnight despite the sun still being quite high in the sky. And Fundy shouldn’t sleep, he should do anything in his power to avoid the nightmares, but… just a short nap wouldn’t harm him, right? And he needed some rest after that duel for sure. He’d never understand why Foolish yielded after just a few seconds of fighting and despite not being too hurt, but he didn’t mind. He had his son. That was all that counted.

An hour or so later, Foolish came by, leaving a few healing potions by the tent before quickly backing away. Fundy slept through that of course, he’d probably sleep until the morning, but Yogurt watched the man until he was out of his sight. He wasn’t sure what happened during the duel, but Foolish certainly wasn’t his favorite ‘babysitter’ anymore.

***

Fundy was very reluctant to leave for another journey after that. Sure, someone would have to do it again and Quackity trusted him with that quest. Sure, going there helped with keeping him awake. Sure, his wounds healed nicely, especially with all the potions he found by the tent. Sure, he talked things through with Foolish and set everything straight. But still, what if… what if he had to go through all that again? What if he misunderstood something when he was back and exhausted, and it’d lead to another pointless conflict?

Yogurt was worried about his dad leaving too. He knew he’d never hold being gone for too long against him again, but he still didn’t want to be lonely. And while he too learned what happened during the duel, how Foolish surrendered the moment he realized how serious Fundy was, he still wasn’t sure if he wanted the man to be the one looking after him again. And who else could do that?

Eventually, Fundy had to start leaving again. He took that job upon himself and he couldn’t just back away from it. The goodbye he shared with his son was much more emotional now that they both knew how long a journey could take, he was convinced that the boy wouldn’t ever let go of him. When he finally left, he kept his hand in his pocket for the first few hours, gently holding the flower hidden deep inside of it. He left Yogurt in yet better hands this time, he spoke to basically all the citizens and they all agreed to check on his son every day, so he shouldn’t be as worried. Still, he couldn’t wait to come back.

Each time Fundy left, Yogurt was starting to accept it more. He missed his dad every time of course, but all the people taking care of him were still doing a good job with their new task, and he liked all of them for different reasons.

Purpled would always let him do what he wanted and he had a funny-looking dog Yogurt could play with after shapeshifting into a fox. Quackity would let him run around the casino if he promised to not damage anything, and if they weren’t there, the man would take him to his office and let him play with the shiny stones and items he stored there. Slime would tell him incredible stories about other citizens, his dad, people he barely heard of, and once they’d get bored of that, he could always do some funny tricks with how his body never seemed to be truly solid. Sam, if he ever had time to stop by the country and was put on ‘babysitting duty’, would gladly listen to anything Yogurt wanted to talk about, and they often just walked around Las Nevadas with the boy showing off all the things that seemed to pop up overnight.

And whenever Foolish ended up looking after him, he would often end up… inconvenienced. Sure, Fundy might’ve forgiven him for the duel thing, but it didn’t stop Yogurt from pulling some pranks. Nothing too harmful, of course, just some stupid things like water buckets spilled from not-too-high-up, or hiding for a bit the moment the man lost sight of him. Sure, it might’ve annoyed the man sometimes, but he still ended up laughing along after the initial shock. And it did give Yogurt a good opportunity to learn how to set up silly ‘traps’, so what was the harm in that?

No matter who was looking after him, though, whenever he’d as much as hear Fundy’s voice or footsteps, he’d drop everything and run in the man’s direction. Their reunions were always a good, happy moment, they hugged each other tightly and only let go when his dad remembered that he still had items to give to Quackity. Then, they would spend the rest of the day telling each other what happened while they were alone, Fundy talking about the breathtaking views he saw and dangerous situations he just briefly survived, and Yogurt recalling all the fun things he got to do while other people looked after him.

Fundy accepted the fact that he still made mistakes not long after his duel with Foolish. That no matter how long he spent with his son and how hard he tried, there would still be misunderstandings, mix-ups, and other issues. But each time Yogurt ran up to him cheerfully calling him ‘dad’, he was assured that it was okay. That they both learned from them, and that they wouldn’t repeat them. That no matter how many times he’d have to leave, he’d never come back to such a disaster again. He'd return to a happy home instead, and he wouldn't trade that for anything else.

#yogurtdays2021 #yogurt dsmp #c!fundy #c!foolish #yogurt dy #fundy #foolish gamers #my writing #dream smp #I had to look back at foolish's vod before writing it and man #the happiness noises after the duel was over got to me #also i am so proud of coming up with a way for that situation to make sense/take place in this fic even if it only meant angst

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we-took-a-chonce · 3 years

Text

Okay so I just realised it’s 4:40am ... (I’m nowhere near finished and it’s 5:50am)

Anyway. So I’ve got some of my favourites here for anyone who decided to come and join me :P these are in no particular order by the way :,)

A Pair of Idiots in Love

Words: 71,190 Works:7

Series summary: a bunch of really really cute (and slightly smutty) shorts about Harry and Louis and them living life to the fullest... in lockdown.

Note: I absolutely love this series, I think I’ve read it fifteen times over and it never gets boring. The balance of fluff and smut is so just *cheffs kiss*. I’m yet to read the seventh short actually, but I can’t wait to do so. I’d definitely recommend it to anyone who loves fluff (and smut) as much as me :)

Tags: I mean it’s a series so there are so many tags, I feel really bad for not putting them on here but it takes me ages. Anyway. There’s a lot of smut and a lot of fluff, some jealousy, petty fighting and just like tooth-rotting amounts of fluff but I’ve already said that :)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056104

Your mess is mine

Words:176723 Chapters:20/20

Summary: Louis is the father to the most brilliant little boy in the world who is all Louis really needs, or at least that's what he tells himself. Harry is a gorgeous boybander fresh off a two year break and a massive scandal that's left him a little broken and more than ready to move on. They fall in love.

Note: THIS NGKSKWKRKW SORRY MY GAY IS SHOWING BUT I CANT. I have a thing for single dad fics idk but it was just so p e r f e c t. You know? And like- ugh just- I’m gonna go read it again. ALSO NOAH IS THE CUTEST THING EVER PLEASE.

On a serious note however, I was really hesitant to read this at first. I hate angsty fics and scandals just scream sadness but honestly? You’d be slightly stupid not to read it. I loved it so much and god the angst is so little you barely even notice it!! Really would recommend to literally anyone.

Tags: Kid Fic, Famous Harry, Ordinary Louis, Fluff and Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Past Drug Use, Single Dad, Louis Falling In Love, Non-Famous Louis, Friends to Lovers, Journalist Louis, Family Fluff, Pet Names, an abundance of pet names

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426800/chapters/7508540

Through Eerie Chaos

Words:102,104 Chapters:5/5

Summary: The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

Note: WHEN I TELL YOU THERE WERE TEARS.

God this fic- I sobbed through most of it I’m not going to lie. I am telling you all it was so worth it because the ending had me crying happy tears but g o d UGH I REALLY CANT IT IS SO GOOD

Tags: Alternate Universe-Ghost Hunters, Ghost Hunters Alternate Universe, Fantasy Alternate Universe, Historical Alternate Universe, 1920s Aristocracy, Haunted Houses, Haunted Manor, Supernatural Elements, Supernatural Investigation, Historical Inaccuracy, Typical Homophobia, Arranged Marriage, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, liam Ghost, Aristocrat Louis Tomlinson, Photographer Harry Styles, Ghost Hunter Niall Horan, Librarian Zayn Malik

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875072/chapters/24160332 - JUST QUICKLY!! IM SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE BUT YOU NEED AN AO3 ACCOUNT :(- if anyone can’t get one I’ll be happy to help sort something out!!

knock knock, i love you

Words: 86,066 Chapters: 4/4

Summary: Harry and Louis get kicked out of a statistics exam for passing a knock knock joke note, and subsequently fall in love. Harry's a virgin, there's a cat, a hot cocoa date, a lot of sex, even more knock knock jokes, and everything is lovely and happy.

Notes: I think we’re getting a theme here but this fic was so absolutely unbelievably fluffy I cried from a sweetness overload more than once. It is quite literally a vanilla fic at its finest and I am honest to god in love with it. Anyone who likes a lot of smut would love this and there was nothing overly kinky in there so yeah :,D

Tags: fluff, Alternate Universe aCollege/University, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, First Time, Rimming, Dirty Talk, Banter, Knock-Knock Jokes, No Angst, Virgin Harry, Bottom Harry, Hot Cocoa, Date, Spooning, Come play, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Halloween, a cat named Sushi, Masturbation, Flirting

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8342227/chapters/19110898

driving instructor fic

Words: 104,935 works: 2

Summary: the AU where Louis is a 25-year-old driving instructor and Harry is a 17-year-old virgin who's really awful at seduction, except for the time he gets Louis to fall for him and fuck him senseless and take him on kinky adventures.

Note: THIS WAS SOME KINKY SHIT AND I HAD TO STEAL EVERYONES HOLY WATER TO MAKE MYSELF FEEL BETTER. I admittedly didn’t read the second part because I’m not really one for threesomes, not really my thing lmao but THE FIRST PART... I was on the edge of my bed for the entire thing because of the constant t e n s i o n. It was just amazingly written and I fell in love with it :]

Tags: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, side Zayn/Perrie, side Niall/BARBARA PALVIN YES, Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Perrie Edwards, 17!Harry/25!Louis, age gap, dom!Louis/sub!Harry, Daddy Kink, Virgin Kink, Bondage, breath play, Exhibitionism, collaring, Sex Toys, Barebacking, Overstimulation Orgasm Denial, Subspace, Kink ,Negotiation, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Possessiveness, Facials Marking

P.s. reading over the tags now.. fookin hell I don’t remember it being that bad gnjejejq I swear (this is what I get for not reading the tags lmao)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/86149

Crave

Words: 90,765 Chapters:11/11

Summary: All eyes are on Louis Tomlinson to bring new talent to save Hanover Records from the mess the previous executive left behind. His newest artist, Harry Styles, is charismatic and everything Louis needs to revive the label. It’s up to Louis and his team to make Harry the star he was born to be. When Harry and Louis come face to face, it isn’t the first time they’ve met, and their worlds are about to be turned upside down.

Note: so I often get this mixed up with another on this list (walk on the ocean) but I think that’s just because of how they first meet? Maybe.. I’m not sure. But anyway. What I’m trying to say is that these two are probably my favourite two which is absolutely bonkers considering the slight angst in both of them (if y’all hadn’t already picked up, I hate angsty fics) but g o d it’s so g o o d. And like- UGH THE ENDING NFKSKRJRW

Tags: Strangers, BDSMDom/sub, Bondage, CEO Louis, Musician Harry, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Tension, mentions of Simon Cowell, Daddy Kink, Sub Harry, Dom Louis, Kink Negotiation, Friends With Benefits, Nipple Play, Nipple Clamps, Sexting, Phone Sex, Cock Rings, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Sex, Face-Fucking, Spanking, Riding, Top Louis, Top Harry, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Multiple Orgasms, Begging, Handcuffs, Panties, Collars, Barebacking, Butt Plugs, Anal Fingering, Biting, Painplay, Aftercare, Subspace, Subdrop, Hair-pulling, Light Angst, Switching, Rope Bondage, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Sex Club, Kink Discovery, Kink Exploration, Dirty Talk, Happy Ending, Blindfolds, Teasing, Feathers & Featherplay, Spreader Bars, Coming Untouched ... so I didn’t realise the stuff I read was this bad h a

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12951438/chapters/29604861

walk on the ocean

Words:26,099 Chapters:5/5

Summary: Harry is an on the rise rock star. Louis is as far from the music scene as a famous producer's son can get. They meet and everything changes.

Note: again, I was really hesitant to read this one, I feel the summary doesn’t do it justice. The fic itself left me gobsmacked for the rest of the day, it was just written so well, it’s hard not to like [love]. It’s nowhere near as kinky as “crave” but it has its moments. I think that the angst got me a bit, but I didn’t shed too many tears and all in all it was just such a good read.

Tags: Surfer!Louis, Singer Harry, Louis has daddy issues, Minor Character Death, a wee bit of angst, Smut, Bottom Louis, Top Harry, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, the ocean

I also love this person right now because there aren’t that many tags :,,)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969168/chapters/18228733

Bite My Lip and Close My Eyes (Take Me Away to Paradise)

Words:3,937 Chapters:1/1

Summary: Or the one where Harry goes on the date from hell only to return home to find he’s not alone in his desire to wank over his room mate

Note: now it wouldn’t be a favourite list without the one very e x t r e m e l y shameful wank fic in there. Honestly there’s not much to say. It’s written really well and that’s that :). Not really because it’s kinky asf and I’m dying

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Roommates, 19 years old Harry, 21 years old Louis, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism

We’re What’s Right In This World

Words: 48,809 Chapters: 16/16

Summary: Or the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.

Note: I DIDNT WANT TO READ THIS. THEN I DID. I CRIED A LOT. IT WAS BEAUTIFUL. I CRIED A LOT MORE. IT WAS SAD. IT WAS EVEN MORE SAD. THEN IT STARTED GETTING BETTER. THEN IT WASNT BETTER AND IT WAS SAD AGAIN. But it’s fine because the ending was so prefect it fixed my heart to a point of which I watched all of my sad Larry tiktoks without crying once :) (or maybe it broke me.. I’m not sure)

Tags: World War II, Alternate Universe - Historical, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blind Louis, Soldier Harry, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Period-Typical Homophobia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211689/chapters/27734604

Okay I’m going to leave it there for now. It’s just gone six in the morning and I’m yet to go to sleep. My asks are always open and I’d love a chat if anyone wants one!! Remember to treat people with kindness. xx

#larry af #ao3 feed larry #larry stylinson #harry styles #louis tomilson #long reads #fanfic #fanfiction #one direction #larry shippers #larry styles #larry fanfic rec #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fic #larry stylinson fanfiction

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spicysoftsweet · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11

Masterlist

The days following the funeral had been extremely lonely for Kaksi. While she knew she wasn’t the only one who was suffering from losing Baji, she felt like she shouldn’t bother anyone, attempting to overcome her own grief by herself. Eventually, she decided to pay a visit to her best friend despite the fact that she hadn’t called or texted ever since the ceremony.

But that had only worsened things, adding to the loneliness and sadness as she returned to her place after learning that Kumi had left Tokyo just a few days prior. Part of Kaksi was hurt that she hadn’t given her any notice, not even bothering to say goodbye, but another part of her knew that it was for the best and could only wish her a good recovery.

She felt useless being unable to help her but she figured that if she couldn’t be there for Kumi she would be there for anyone else that needed her. One of those people happened to be Chifuyu - while none of them wanted to address their feelings outright, they found each other’s company comforting. Kaksi could never replace Baji, the Toman member remembered painfully when he was with her, but they would still share a laugh together from time to time.

It had always been evident to Kaksi that Chifuyu’s feelings for Baji went beyond friendship and she wondered if the first division captain had been aware. She hoped he did not, keeping Chifuyu so close yet so far seemed cruel to her, especially when Kumi had entered the picture. But that was none of her business and she didn’t exactly want to broach the subject of romance with her friend even if he did seem to want to be involved with that side of her life.

“Are you going to see Kazutora soon?”

Kaksi let out a sigh, knowing she would regret it if she didn’t.

“I guess so.”

“He’d be happy to see you,” Chifuyu reassured with a little smile. “Heard Takemichi and Draken are going to see him soon too.”

Takemichi.

Kaksi couldn’t figure why but it still bothered her that he was always so involved in everything that was related to the gang. While she had nothing personal against him (at least she thought so), she couldn’t help feeling strange about his role in all of this.

“Why is he everywhere?”

“Who?” Chifuyu asked, confused. “Takemichi?”

Kaksi nodded.

“He says he wants to be Toman’s leader,” he explained.

“What the fuck?”

Chifuyu laughed at Kaksi’s evident confusion.

“I know. He’s insane.”

“Why does he want to become Toman’s leader?” she asked. “He was a nobody months ago.”

“I don’t know,” Chifuyu admitted. “But he’s pretty damn determined to achieve his goal. Besides, Baji trusts him.”

Kaksi smiled at his last words but that wouldn’t be enough to convince her that Takemichi’s motivations and behaviour were normal.

“So you trust him?”

Chifuyu nodded.

“He’s weird,” Kaksi pointed out. “Don’t know if I do.”

Kaksi had good intuitions and she had learned in the past to always trust them. She needed to talk to Takemichi, there was clearly something she was missing in all this chaos. If someone was to be Toman’s leader after Mikey it certainly would not be Takemichi, she was convinced and even if it was, why would he want that?

As Kaksi wondered about that she was reminded of her previous conversation with him. Something didn’t add up once again - why would Baji trust Takemichi? They barely knew each other. While she knew Baji was as, if not more, intuitive and perceptive than her, there must have been more than linked them. Maybe there was something Chifuyu was unaware of? No, that didn’t make sense; she remembered Takemichi coming to Kumi and her looking for intel about Kazutora and Baji, as the Valhalla conflict had been brewing.

Takemichi really was a nobody and despite suddenly appearing in their lives, he somehow played a key role in the gang. Kaksi didn’t know why she felt the need to investigate him and thinking about it now, she realised that all the people she held dear were related to him. Perhaps it was out of desperation for something to distract her, but for her peace of mind, she needed to know more about him.

---

Takemichi had been surprised to see Kaksi, still in her school uniform, standing by his school’s entrance. His blue eyes widened as he caught her brown ones. Her face wore a neutral expression as usual and he couldn’t help feeling intimidated as she walked over to him. She didn’t smile or wave at him but she greeted him and quickly asked if she could have a few words with him.

Takemichi agreed and awkwardly, he and the taller girl walked together for a little while. They didn’t have a specific destination in mind but he figured they could just sit at the playground right around the corner and talk. He hadn’t seen her since Baji’s funeral and he couldn’t tell how she felt, finding Kaksi rather unreadable. He did however note that she looked more tired than he had usually seen her.

“What exactly are your motivations, Takemichi?” she asked suddenly, catching him off-guard.

He stayed silent for a moment, wondering what a good answer would be to that question.

“What do you mean?”

“A few months ago I had no idea who you were,” she explained. “Then suddenly you became the most talked-about person among my friends for some reason.”

It was true that Takemichi’s involvement with Toman had evolved very quickly and he felt himself sink deeper into its core every day. So Kaksi’s confusion was founded as someone who had watched most things unfold on the sidelines.

“And now I’m told you want to become Toman’s number one?” she continued, a frown on her face. “What is it that you know that you are not telling us?”

Kaksi’s voice wasn’t threatening in the slightest, but Takemichi couldn’t help getting nervous. There were so many things that he knew that he wasn’t telling anyone and the burden of his secret was getting harder to carry every day. Part of Takemichi carried the guilt of Baji’s death and while he had prevented Mikey from killing Kazutora, he had still failed his original mission.

It didn’t matter that Baji technically killed himself, Kazutora had inflicted to him fatal injuries that Takemichi failed to anticipate despite knowing more about the events that were meant to unfold than anyone else. He stayed silent. What would Kaksi think if she knew the truth? Would she hate him for failing to save Baji?

“What do you want, Takemichi?” she asked, filling the silence once again as Takemichi found himself unable to answer.

“I just want to save everyone.”

It felt good to say it but seeing the look on Kaksi’s face he realised that he had only confused her more.

“How?”

Takemichi didn’t know. He wasn’t smart, he wasn’t strong, and he was breaking too. Tears filled his eyes and he realized that the pressure was unbearable under Kaksi’s gaze.

“I don’t know, Kaksi,” he replied, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I have no idea.”

The girl could feel her vision blur as Takemichi started to sob.

“I wish I could save everyone too.”

Her voice cracked and she was happy no one was there to witness them.

“I wish I could have done something,” she continued, frustrated and tears falling uncontrollably. “I knew Kazutora was unstable but I didn’t know what to do. I should have insisted and talked to him the moment I knew what he was preparing. Baji…”

Kaksi, finding it hard to speak, paused for a moment. It was sickening to watch her like this, Takemichi thought, the guilt he felt amplified.

“Fuck I didn’t even talk to Baji. I just let him push me away like everyone else.”

“Please don’t blame yourself,” Takemichi begged her. “I’m the one who failed to protect Baji.”

Kaksi shook her head. Takemichi couldn’t have known how far Kazutora could go. But Kaksi did, as much as she loved him, she knew that Kazutora was never only the boy who gently kissed her knuckles. No, she knew there was a much more violent and aggressive side to her love. She had believed that it was under control, that she could keep him under control but she had failed.

“You didn’t know.”

Takemichi cried louder at those words. He wanted to scream and he did, unable to contain his feelings.

“I did,” he admitted, the words barely making it out. “I knew Kazutora would stab Baji and I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t save Baji.”

He slammed his fist on the table they were sitting on and kept weeping. Kaksi’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by the sudden movement but more importantly by what he said.

“What do you mean you knew Kazutora would stab Baji?” she asked in horror and confusion.

“Forgive me, Kaksi.”

That was all Takemichi said for a moment along with repeated apologies. Kaksi asked him again, feeling her heartbeat increase. What did he mean?

“I knew Baji was going to die,” he started confessing.

But all Kaksi could do was cry harder as she listened to Takemichi’s secrets. He did not think anymore, telling her everything from the day he was meant to die, to Naoto, to Hina, to all the events he was able to change, to the guilt that crushed him and to his helplessness regarding Baji’s death.

By the end of his explanation, both of them sat quietly. Takemichi felt good for having gotten this all out of his chest but now he had to deal with how this could possibly affect Kaksi. Despite her initial shock, Kaksi figured this was way too serious for Takemichi to lie and it did explain how he had climbed Toman’s ranks so quickly and why he was so persistent. She felt a little guilty for thinking that his intentions could have been bad before they had talked.

So she apologised to him and reassured him that Baji’s death was in no way his fault and acknowledged that the weight of the responsibility he held was crushing.

“What are you going to do now?” Kaksi asked, having dried her tears.

“I’m going to go back to twelve years in the future.”

“Do you think the future will be fixed this time?”

“I hope so,” he said with a little smile.

Kaksi stayed silent for a moment.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to him anymore,” she said, eyes filling with tears again. “I’ll help you protect Mikey.”

Mikey who she hadn’t talked to in weeks. How terrible she felt, the memory of their fight still fresh in her mind. Takemichi smiled at her, the love Kaksi held for Mikey was always so evident to him but was it as evident to her and Mikey? He couldn’t tell but he hoped he could offer them the happiness they deserved.

Takemichi kept the girl company for a while longer and she promised his secret was safe with her before bidding him goodbye. They weren’t sure they would see each other again before Takemichi next time leapt, so she told him she would be meeting Kazutora and watch out for Mikey as much as she could.

This definitely wasn’t the motivation she had expected Takemichi to have but maybe she had been wrong about him. Takemichi was strong in his own way and a lot of people counted on him. She hoped he would be fine.

---

As days passed, Mikey remained on Kaksi’s mind, but he was usually quickly joined by Kazutora. What was even meant to happen to him? As much as Kaksi wanted to be angry with him, she couldn’t. She missed him already and she knew this was only the start of their troubles but what even was left of their relationship? She was unsure.

Chifuyu said he would be happy to see her and he had also told her about the rage and renewed energy that had taken over Kazutora when Mikey had hit her. She knew he still cared and she did too, so very much. Kaksi’s feelings for Kazutora never faded but she worried if he would ever believe that. All he seemed to think about was Mikey.

Kaksi didn’t know what to expect, making her way to the detention centre. She could feel tears blurring her vision at the thought of Kazutora and her being separated again as well as the reason why. He carried so much guilt that she was worried about how this would affect his fragile mental health more than anything.

She followed the police officers leading her to face her ex-boyfriend nervously. As soon as she saw him behind glass windows she couldn’t prevent her tears from falling. Kazutora watched her quietly, his own eyes filling with tears at the sight of her pain. They didn’t have that unfamiliar glimmer she was scared of and they displayed sadness more than anything else.

What could he ever say to make all this better? He didn’t think there was anything that would.

All Kazutora felt was guilt and regret. He had killed one of the most precious people to him and hurt the dearest to his heart. Kaksi was too kind to visit him especially after what he had done and accused her of. He hadn’t expected her to visit him, he hadn’t expected anyone. He had already felt like he had used all his luck when Draken had delivered Mikey’s message to him, therefore seeing the face of the girl he loved truly felt like one last blessing before his punishment started.

“Kaksi,” he started. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t say anything, drying her tears instead as Kazutora’s fell down his cheeks.

“I won’t ask for your forgiveness. You have every right to hate me.”

“You know I could never hate you, Kazutora,” she said with a sad smile.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then murmured, “You should.”

At that moment Kazutora wished that Kaksi had moved on with Mikey. He didn’t want to be a burden to her anymore, she didn’t deserve any of that.

“How long are they expecting your sentence to be?” she asked, nervously.

“Ten years.”

Kaksi clenched her teeth at the thought, the words repeating in her head. She wanted to scream in frustration but this was probably the best outcome, she was aware. So she decided to hide her distress, not wanting to worry Kazutora.

“It will be lonely without you,” she said. “But I’ll wait.”

Kazutora’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?”

It was as crazy as it sounded. Kaksi would wait for him again.

“I’ll wait for you,” she repeated. “I can do it.”

Kazutora wondered if those words were meant to convince him or herself.

“Kaksi,” he begged. “Don’t do this. I don’t want you to wait for me.”

Those words hurt her.

“What am I supposed to do then?” she asked, voice breaking and tears blurring her vision again.

Kaksi was tired of everything she had ever known falling apart. Baji was dead, Kumi was gone and despite her promise to Takemichi, she didn’t even know if she could fix things with Mikey. She didn’t think she could handle Kazutora leaving her too. Ten years would be torture without him but the idea of one day reuniting with her boyfriend was enough right now to comfort her.

He didn’t know what to tell her. Kazutora had already harmed her so much he wondered if having a proper breakup now wouldn’t be best for her. But seeing her cry despite trying to stay strong he couldn’t afford to break her heart a second time.

“Kaksi, I don’t want you to waste any more time for me,” he explained. “Ten years is a long time. You can’t wait that long, especially not for me.”

The girl took a moment before answering.

“I’m not giving up on you, Kazutora,” she said, a new wave of determination overtaking her. “You said you wouldn’t ask me to forgive you but why? Because you don’t think you deserve my forgiveness or because you don’t want to earn it?”

Kazutora’s sandy eyes widened. Of course he wanted to earn Kaksi’s forgiveness. He would do anything for her.

“Because I don’t think I deserve it.”

“Well that’s up to me to decide, Kazutora,” she replied, her voice colder.

Despite wanting to argue, Kazutora stayed silent.

“If you feel guilty, then fix your mistakes,” she told him. “Get proper rehabilitation and let me help you once you’re out.”

Kazutora gave her a sad smile.

“I will.”

It was a promise that he couldn’t break, he thought. Kazutora hoped that despite her words, Kaksi would move on. He hoped she stayed away from Toman, made new friends, fell in love and pursued the career she wanted to. Whether she was there to welcome him or not when he would come out didn’t matter. Her feelings would fade; they had to. The idea of her moving on with Mikey felt like knives in his stomach but he would not blame her for any decisions she would make without him this time.

“Promise you’ll be happy for the next ten years,” Kazutora demanded.

Kaksi couldn’t guarantee that.

“I’ll try my best, Kazutora,” she said with a little smile.

He smiled back at her before leaving, their meeting ending.

---

Kaksi couldn’t tell if she was satisfied with their conversation or not but she would be welcoming Kazutora back into her life in ten years, that was a promise to herself. She wondered what other promises she was going to have to make and if she would be able to keep all of them.

The most urgent one was probably watching out for Mikey but in order to do that she needed to mend their relationship. Having been kept busy with school, she was struggling to find the right moment to talk to Mikey and the fact he wouldn’t answer her texts only made her more anxious. What if it was too late? What if he just didn’t want to see her again?

This would not be surprising after their last interaction. She hated that she would rather run away from her problems than confront them head-on. Still, she found some free time on a Saturday afternoon to pay a visit to Mikey.

He beat her to it, however, and it was with confusion that she had found him on his CB250T waiting for her not too far from her apartment block, a Thursday afternoon as Kaksi came back from school alone. She made her way over to him, rather nervously despite it not being visible on her features. Mikey’s deep black eyes didn’t leave her and while he realized he had missed her terribly, this was not what he came to tell her.

They greeted each other more awkwardly than two friends should, but a lot of things had changed since their last interaction.

“I wanted to apologize for what happened at the junkyard,” Mikey said, bowing in front of Kaksi. “I’m sorry I hurt you while you tried to protect Kazutora.”

Kaksi’s brown eyes widened.

“I know you didn’t mean it,” she reassured him. “It was an accident.”

“It doesn’t matter. I hit you.”

She watched as Mikey remained in the same position.

“I forgive you, Mikey,” she told him, not wanting him to feel guilty about it anymore.

He stood straight again, his face expressionless before walking back to his bike. Despite sincerely feeling awful for what he had done to Kaksi he couldn’t help remaining angry. The day Baji died, Mikey would have had to kill Kaksi if he had wanted to kill Kazutora - this was how much she loved Kazutora and not him. This was a selfish thought considering everything that had happened but that realisation hurt Mikey.

Kaksi watched him, even more, confused by his behaviour than when he had first appeared.

“Mikey, wait!” she exclaimed as he started his engine.

She quickly walked over to him, not wanting the conversation to end here.

“I’m sorry for what I said the last time we had lunch together,” she told him. “I di-”

“There’s no need for you to apologise,” he cut her off, coldly. “I know you only care about Kazutora.”

Kaksi looked at him in shock. This was far from true and it angered her to think Mikey believed that.

“This is false,” she protested. “How could you say this?”

Mikey took a moment before answering. He didn’t want to argue with her but this was probably the best way to make sure she would never talk to him again. While it was true that Mikey’s feelings had been hurt, this wasn’t the only thing that drove him to cut Kaksi out of his life so abruptly. Things were getting far too dangerous these days and even he was unsure about Toman’s future. For her safety, he needed to push her away even if it hurt both of them.

“What am I to you, Kaksi?” Mikey asked.

What was she supposed to answer? She didn’t have a clear answer other than her friend but before she could say anything, Mikey spoke again.

“I don’t want to be Kazutora’s placeholder.”

“This is not what you are, Mikey!” she replied, growing frustrated. “You were never Kazutora’s placeholder! You are my friend.”

“Then I don’t think I want to be friends anymore,” he said, the pain he felt was imperceptible at surface level but palpable at his very core.

Kaksi stood in silence and Mikey decided he didn’t have anything else to tell her. So he left, the noise from his engine filling the girl’s ears as he drove away, accelerating as if that would make it all go away. Maybe Kaksi loved him as he loved her, maybe she didn’t. No matter the answer though, Mikey knew he had to keep her safe and that could only be possible by exiting her life, as heartbreaking as it was.

Mikey didn’t drive back home, instead, he kept wandering the streets with his older brother and his childhood friend in his thoughts. What would they think of this?

There wasn’t any other solution, was there?

---

Heartbroken over Mikey, Kaksi realised that it was one by one that she was losing her friends. The wound Baji had left her was still too fresh and she wondered if loneliness wouldn’t be better, after all. She had spent the following days visiting Kazutora while she still could but his trial had ended quickly and his sentence had already started now.

After that, it felt like everything had started to slow down. Despite spending most of her time studying, Kaksi’s days seemed endless. She didn’t talk to any remaining Toman members except for Chifuyu but she had the feeling that eventually, they would be parting ways too very soon. She assumed Takemichi had time leapt since the last time she had seen him he hadn’t even returned her smile.

She also noticed Chifuyu avoided mentioning the gang at all around her and it became obvious that something was wrong. Kaksi wondered for some time, maybe too long, if she should investigate by herself or not. Eventually, she had decided to talk to Mitsuya, one of the most reasonable people she knew and although he welcomed her warmly and didn’t hold it against her that she hadn’t talked to him in a long time, he only gave her a warning.

Like Chifuyu he looked too exhausted for a middle schooler and it appeared to her that he had matured even faster if it was even possible for someone in his predicament. All he was able to tell her was that Toman was changing and he was confused as to where all of this was heading. She tried to get some answers to her question but Mitsuya told her frankly that she would be better off without knowing.

So it was Yamagishi that she had recognised on her way to cram school that had given her more details about what she wanted to know. As expected the few rumours she had heard were true. Toman had gotten bigger and that involved more trouble, Kisaki was now one of the most influential members and all that mattered now was blood and money.

Kaksi had tried to know what all of this meant exactly but Yamagishi told her that his position didn’t allow him to disclose more information. He had given her a warning too but with new irritation, she had cut him off and left. She didn’t know what to do. Was there anything she could do? In a few months what used to be a kid's playground had turned into one of the most dangerous and feared gangs of Tokyo.

As much as Kaksi still cared for some of its members, she knew when to give up on a pointless battle but before doing that she had to try one last time to spare those she loved.

“Chifuyu, you should leave Toman.”

The boy stayed silent for a moment.

“It’s not that easy,” he told her.

“But it will be harder if you wait.”

“Don’t worry about me, Kaksi,” Chifuyu reassured.

He should know that was impossible.

“Well, I can’t do that. I know you won’t talk about it but Toman changed,” she replied, voice louder as her frustration built up. “These are not people you want to be involved with.”

“I’m aware but I know what I’m doing.”

Chifuyu remained calm but this wasn’t how he felt. He appreciated that Kaksi looked out for him but he could never leave Toman. This was Baji’s legacy and if it wasn’t him, then who would fight for its sake?

Kaksi chuckled, but it was bitterness and pain that had her speaking this time.

“This is what Baji thought too before fucking dying.”

Chifuyu clenched his fists, his patience running thin.

“What do you think you are going to achieve by yourself?” she asked, her words pointed.

Chifuyu’s jaw tensed even further.

“More than you ever will, Kaksi.”

She wasn’t hurt by those words. Chifuyu was right, all Kaksi could do was run away. But some things weren’t worth fighting for.

“I know what all this meant to Baji,” she said with teary eyes. “But he is dead, as painful as it is and you will end up joining him if you’re not careful, Chifuyu.”

This hurt but Chifuyu didn’t expect Kaksi to understand.

“Well then I hope I do,” he replied, coldly. “I’d rather die trying too hard than not trying at all.”

Kaksi chuckled again, a sardonic, almost soulless sound.

“Living then dying for someone that could never return what you gave to them looks painful.”

There was a pause as Chifuyu let those words sink in, and considered exactly how much Baji may have understood his feelings.

“If this is what you think this is then you should leave,” Chifuyu finally answered, angry and hurt.

The girl stayed quiet and decided she had said what she had to. Maybe she had been too harsh, maybe she hadn’t been harsh enough but this was as hard as she would try. She liked to think she was devoted to the ones she loved but she figured she had been wrong. If Chifuyu wanted to live for the ghost of his past then so be it, but this was something Kaksi refused to do.

Still, there was something she was afraid of and that was regrets. Walking away from Chifuyu after warning him was something but giving up without trying was something else which was why abandoning Mikey for good felt different. While he was the one who had ended their relationship, Kaksi thought that maybe she hadn’t been insistent enough. So it wouldn’t be without having him hear her out that she would put Toman behind her for good.

---

Waiting for Mikey to open the door of his home felt like the last goodbye. How stupid Kaksi felt for having told Takemichi that she would help him protect Mikey. Who was she kidding? She was never a hero. Maybe loneliness, grief and sadness killed her empathy or maybe she was just tired, she wasn’t sure.

When Mikey finally opened the door she was afraid he would immediately close it again but he didn’t; his deep black eyes studied her instead. He looked different, to say the least, while his features hadn’t changed, like Kazutora, there was something unfamiliar and slightly frightening about him now. Kaksi had anticipated this, however. She wondered if it was really a stranger she faced now?

“Can we talk, Mikey?” she asked, in a neutral voice, hiding her uneasiness.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

As straightforward as ever, Mikey was ready to close his front door but Kaksi stopped him, blocking the door with her hand and foot, begging him to listen, for once.

“I thought I was clear, last time,” he warned. “Get out of my sight.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Mikey?”

She didn’t expect an answer, she just needed to get her frustration out.

“What are you even doing? Quit pushing me away!” she barked at him. “I just want to help you.”

“I don’t need your help. I don’t need you.”

Mikey’s tone was icy and he remained unimpressed by Kaksi’s outburst. This was so unlike her, he thought still. She was always so calm and composed but he figured that too many things had been testing her patience lately, one of them being him. Her expression remained unchanged at those words and he wondered if it was defeat that he saw in her eyes.

“What a fucking joke Toman is,” she told him, a bitter smile on her lips. “A new age for delinquents? A gang that’s all for one, and one for all? What happened to that? Did it just die with Baji?”

Mikey’s eyes widened slightly but it was almost imperceptible. With one swift movement, he pushed away Kaksi’s arm and had her stumble back.

“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” he snapped at her. “And mind your own fucking business.”

“Fuck you,” Kaksi yelled at Mikey, using all her strength to push him away from her before walking away.

She didn’t want to cry, she was too furious to allow that. Kaksi had so many things to say but she figured it was better to run. Clearly, there was no reasoning with any of her friends.

She did what she could, she would never try again.

#baji x oc #kazutora x oc #tokyorev #off target effects #collab fic #mae.writing #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyo revengers #longfic

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jalapeno-princess · 3 years

Text

Coffee For Your Head

(He’s so pretty)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst with some fluff and a happy ending

Word Count: 7.1K

Summary: After an exhausting and frustrating day at work, all you want to do is go home and fall apart in your boyfriend’s arms. However, a comment that is meant to be a joke turns in to a full blown argument between you and Mark; causing you to storm out of your shared apartment.

A/N: Hey guys, so this week has been pretty shitty. I had to pay $700 to get my car fixed only to have someone steal my muffler (Hawaii is not the paradise everyone paints it out to be) but I’m not letting it get in the way of my life. Anyways, this imagine was inspired by that deathbed coffee for your head song but literally just the first verse (the song is actually so sad). I also have a couple of surprises for you all! The last and final chapter of crazy little thing called love is in the works, and I’ve decided to make a part 2 to “nobody compares to you” by popular request, so stay tuned. I’m also a few followers away from 700 that’s crazy!! Anyways, happy reading!

Never in the four years of your relationship has Mark ever felt like he didn’t want to look at you. Hell, there was never a time he wasn’t looking at you. From the moment Mark first laid his eyes on you, he was captivated by your beauty in ways he has never experienced before.

Some days, he had to force himself to stop admiring your breathtaking looks so that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. After what took weeks of building up the courage to ask you out on a date, it didn’t take him long to realize that you were just as beautiful on the inside as you were on the outside. He honestly felt as if he was the luckiest man on earth to be the one who was extremely blessed to love you.

Unfortunately, the two of you had your first actual fight just a few hours prior and he honestly wishes he could go back in time and keep his mouth shut so that the two of you wouldn’t have been in this disheartening situation. Although there were a few times the two of you would disagree and have a couple quarrels here and there, this was the first time you actually stormed out of your shared apartment out of anger and frustration.

He was well aware that he went too far tonight; Mark knew you like the back of his hand. Just by your posture and the way you slammed your bag down on the counter, he had a feeling something bad must have happened at work. You were a registered nurse at your local hospital and as much as you wish you could say being a nurse was everything you could ever hope and pray it would be; it was quite the opposite.

Sure, you had the honor of witnessing many miracles such as pregnancies, watching patients win their battles against cancer—just being able to help anyone in need were a few perks that came with being a nurse. However, being a nurse also came with great responsibility. There were lives on the line and just the simplest mistake; giving a patient the wrong medication, scheduling the wrong surgery or assigning the wrong diet could really affect the lives of those you were in charge of.

Being a nurse was very exhausting; you were constantly on your feet for eight to ten hours a day and there were many people, either the patients or family members of the patients who always felt the need to take out their stress and worry on you. Tonight had been one of the most tiring and stressful days at work and there was nothing more you wanted to do than to change in to your pajamas and fall asleep in your boyfriend’s warm embrace. It was obvious Mark had other plans.

Normally, whenever you came home so distraught and obviously shaken up, Mark would do whatever he could to comfort you and make you feel better. He didn’t understand what got over him tonight though—what started as a joke about you leaving the dirty dishes from earlier that morning in the sink as his way to cheer you up turned in to hours of yelling at each other and getting at each other’s throats.

You told him he was a selfish, egotistical asshole who didn’t care about anyone but himself and he called you an aggressive bitch who takes things too seriously. As soon as he saw tears falling from your cheeks while you yanked at your purse and your keys that were still on the kitchen counter before storming outside, Mark was well aware that he fucked up. You weren’t a sensitive person; you did cry occasionally when work could be too much for you to handle, when you felt home sick being 3,000 miles away from your family or if there was a sad scene in a movie the two of you watched together then yeah—you would shed some tears, but it was only natural.

When you guys did argue—if ever—you did tear up out of irritation; but you never allowed Mark to see how much your little disputes would hurt you because you didn’t want to feel vulnerable. He may have been your boyfriend, but you didn’t want him—or anyone for that matter, taking advantage of how timorous and fragile you were as a person. It took him a while to process that you actually left. He was too focused on the fight; there were so many things he believed he wanted to say to you in the heat of the moment, but he knew it was best that he didn’t.

Now that he was all alone in the apartment, he felt like complete and utter shit. He knew the entire fight could have been prevented if he had just kept his mouth shut. What came over him that he felt the need to make such a stupid comment? You weren’t all that familiar when it came to California seeing as how you would only go out for work, with friends or with Mark.

California was different at night; it’s was more dangerous and scarier, even for your boyfriend who has been living there his entire life. Seeing as how your family lived in New York and you hardly made any friends in the couple years of living in the relatively sunny state other than a couple coworkers, he had no idea where you could have run off to. For all he knew, you were at a bar getting drunk off of your ass and someone could have been taking advantage of you—or worse, you could have been driving and got in to a car accident because of how frustrated you were.

From what he experienced with being in the passenger seat while you drove, he had to admit you weren’t exactly the best driver. You had two of the worst qualities a driver could have—impatience and anger. Normally, you were calm and collective. Even if life as a nurse could get very hectic and frantic at times, not once in your three years of working at the hospital did you show that you were on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Mark never understood how you did it—but you were very good at managing your time and completing your tasks while under pressure. Your driving however was a completely different story. As much as he could only hope and pray you were somewhere safe, it wasn’t enough to stop the many negative thoughts and scenarios that his conscience came up with. Out of force of habit, he turned on the news to make sure nothing bad happened to you—God, why didn’t he just keep his mouth shut? If he just gave up his pride and took in to consideration the stress you were under, you’d be cuddling in his arms right now while the two of you watch reruns of Cake Boss—but instead, you were out driving in the freezing cold, alone and angry. He had no idea what he should do; even if he were to give in and admit his faults first, what good would it do? You were just as stubborn as he was.

Knowing your headstrong tendencies, there was a big chance you would leave his messages unread and let his calls go to voicemail. He couldn’t blame you though, if it were the other way around and you were the one trying to get in touch with him, Mark would’ve ignored your attempts entirely. His guilty conscience got the best of him only after ten minutes; he knew there was no way he’d be able to go to sleep without finding out your whereabouts.

Mark: Hey. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: I’m sure you’re still mad at me and my apologies probably mean jack shit to you right now but just know that I am really fucking sorry. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: You don’t have to return my calls, but do you think you could at least let me know that you’re safe? 11:58 p.m.

Mark: I didn’t mean anything I said—you know me better than I know myself baby. I would never do or say anything to purposely hurt you. Fuck, the last thing I ever want to do is upset you y/n. I’m sorry I’ve made you so sad. 12:03 p.m.

Mark: I love you so much y/n. Please come home soon. 12:03 p.m.

He tossed his phone somewhere on the floor before releasing a frustrating groan—where could you have gone? A lot of places were closed at this time of hour and he decided that since you were driving, there was no way you could be drinking. Any club or bar was immediately crossed off of his list. There was also no way you’d go back to the hospital; it was painfully obvious that something occurred during your shift that made your mood sour—so you probably didn’t want to get near the establishment until you had to return back to work in the morning.

Shit, that’s right.

You had another shift in less than eight hours, God, Mark really felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. Knowing that there was a huge chance he wouldn’t be hearing from you any time soon, he decided to set up camp in the living room just in case you came back home and wanted to go straight to bed. He was also secretly hoping that you read his messages and forgave him; or at least felt a little less infuriated with him.

No matter how much he tried to take his mind off of you, there was nothing that could distract him. None of the many video games he owned nor the new unsolved mysteries series Netflix had to offer could ease his unsettling nerves. Something inside of Mark was telling him to go out and look for you, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea. Honestly, he wouldn’t even know where to start. California was huge—he’d probably drive in circles for hours.

The idea of getting in contact with his friends also popped in to his mind; you’ve grown close to his group of friends over the course of your relationship to the point where you could consider them all family. However, you were the kind of person who hated being a burden to others. You also didn’t want to involve anyone in your personal business unless you really had to.

All he could do was lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling; growing more and more irritated with himself as the minutes went by. Your disheartened facial expression was imprinted in the back of his mind—this was the first time you looked at him in a way other than lovingly and with so much adoration in your eyes. He hated it; hated himself even more.

He just really wanted you home safe.

Your boyfriend had no idea how long he was waiting for you; minutes felt like hours as he continued to lie on the couch, doing nothing. As soon as he heard the click of the door sound off, he abruptly sat up; not caring if he seemed too eager. He sincerely meant everything he said over text message—your health and your safety meant more to him than his stupid ego.

His heart began to race watching you walk in; there was nothing more he wanted to do than to run over to you and pull you in to his embrace while he repeatedly apologized for everything that he said and all the hurt he made you suffer through. For his inconsiderate actions, for not running after you, for allowing his pride and wanting to be the winner of the argument get in the way. But you looked so exhausted—so tired. Your body language spoke for you; it was evident that you were probably still hurt from his words and from what he learned with past experiences, you probably just wanted to go to sleep. He was curious if you got around to reading his messages or if you listened to his many voicemails.

His heart was begging him to get up and make his way over to you, but his mind didn’t want to make matters worse. Although he wanted to fix things immediately, he was going to wait for you to take control of the situation. You slowly took off your sandals and made your way in to the kitchen. The battle going on between his mind and his heart was currently consuming his thoughts; as much as he knew it would’ve been better to continue giving you his space, his heart had other plans.

You looked as though you saw a ghost when you heard him make his presence known and only then did Mark realize it was 2:15 in the morning. His chest hurt when he saw you tense up; he began regretting his decision. You obviously weren’t ready for reconciliation.

“What are you still doing up?”

You still had your back faced toward him, but he was going to take whatever he could get. Instead of continuing to ignore him, which is honestly what he felt he deserved, you actually responded to him. It had to be a good thing—right?

“I know you’re well aware that there was no way I’d be able to go to sleep knowing you were out all by yourself this late in a city you’re not all that familiar with. Especially because I was the reason. I—I was so worried.”

The tension in the room was thick; he was practically walking on eggshells while thinking about what to say next. You were the definition of a sensitive person and it was a trait of yours that Mark was still getting used to. It was the truth though—Mark cared about you more than he did anyone else on this hell forsaken earth. If something were to happen to you, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. You were his person. That man would die for you if he had to. He found himself reaching out to you as a force of habit, but he retracted his hand as soon as he realized what he was doing.

“Can we—can we talk?”

You took in a deep breath and finally allowed yourself to turn around and face him. There was no way around this—you knew as you drove around that he would want to talk sooner or later. When you saw that he was still awake, you weren’t surprised. Being with him for all these years, you’ve grown to learn that Mark never allowed you to go to bed angry. He was the type to want to solve your problems before you were to fall asleep.

The idea of you crying yourself to sleep because of something he said made his heart hurt. Only once in your entire relationship did you go to bed without listening to Mark’s apologies and it was because you didn’t want to deal with the drama any longer. He felt extremely bad that entire day though and when you arrived home that night, there was a bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite cake from your favorite bakery and a stuffed animal all sitting on the counter.

Mark was going to make sure you knew just how sorry he was, even if it meant having to sleep on the couch tonight. You were much more calm than you were when you first stormed out. Right after the fight, you went straight to your car and sat in it for a while; allowing yourself to breathe and come to your sense before driving away. Then, you decided to go drive around the city until you pulled up to a 24-hour coffee shop.

The exhaustion from your extremely stressful day was finally taking over you; and since you planned to stay out for at least another hour or two, you were going to need something that would keep you from falling asleep—and what better than a caramel macchiato with three shots of espresso? To your delight, you were the only customer there; you didn’t want anyone witnessing your breakdown as you cried quietly to yourself while remembering Mark’s harsh words that he directed towards you.

Mark was the only good thing going for you in your life at the moment; all you wanted to do was collapse in his arms and have him comfort you—you wanted him to run his fingers through your hair while you were perched up on his lap, hiding your face in the juncture of his neck. Every single time you had a rough day, whether it was because of work, or something else going on in your life; but your boyfriend was really good at taking your mind off of any problems, worries or negative thoughts that you had.

Coming home, only to hear him complain about how you didn’t wash your cereal bowl made your blood boil. You were scolded by your manager for almost giving a patient the wrong medication and it was the mistake of your colleague in training—yet you didn’t have the heart to confess that it wasn’t your fault. You understood how intimidating it was for first and second year residents; you’ve been there before, so you were fine taking the blame for something that you didn’t do. However, hearing your manager insult you and claim that you were inadequate and had no idea what you were doing made you feel as if it were true.

The last thing anyone in the medical field wanted to hear was that they weren’t good at their job. You didn’t go through so many years of crying over how hard clinicals were on top of pulling all-nighters every single week there was a test or exam just for someone to make you feel like you had no clue on how to complete the tasks given to you. This was the first time you were scolded for something that you didn’t think was all that bad; the medication the patient was meant to take helped with soothing a sore throat. The one that the medical resident gave them had to do with decreasing heartburn—it wasn’t like it was a life or death situation.

Mark never did anything to upset you purposely; sure, he had a tendency to leave the toilet seat up every now and then and sometimes he would get crumbs all over the couch, but that was as bad as it would get. When he called you a bitch, it genuinely felt like a slap to the face. It physically hurt and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched in anger as he continued to say such hurtful things to you. At one point while you were drinking your coffee, it became bitter—which was odd considering how sweet it actually was and you found yourself no longer wanting to finish it.

Your argument with Mark was just taking up the entirety of your thought process that you were growing agitated with anything and everything. After reading his text messages and listening to a few of his voicemails, you didn’t know how to react. Mark Tuan was never the type to admit to his wrongdoings; he had so much pride and such a big ego—but not once did he ever use it towards you. You’ve watched the way he became ruthless while playing video games and said some things to his friends that you considered to be a joke; something he said to throw them off while being focused on winning.

Even at work, if he did something wrong, he’d never admit to his faults. That’s just who he was; so for him to say that he was wrong—that he didn’t mean a thing that he said and he shouldn’t have upset you at all gently pulled on your heartstrings and you found yourself throwing away the remainder of your beverage and making your way back to the apartment.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen once you were to walk in the door; he might have apologized, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was going to talk to you or apologize again in person. Your mind would not let you get any rest; it was currently in a battle with your heart—your stupid, stupid heart that belonged to the man that made you feel like you were wrong for having a bad day.

That—you had no right to lash out on him. You wished he would have heard you out first before attacking you for something so small and unnecessary; he could’ve washed the damn dishes himself if he was so bothered. But your heart wouldn’t stop telling you to forgive him. His job could get extremely frustrating sometimes. It might not have been as time consuming or energy draining as yours, but there were times where he would need you to hold him every now and then because his executives expected so much out of him.

He probably had just as much of a hard day as you did—maybe he came home pissed off from something that happened at work and noticing that there was dishes in the sink that he knew were there from this morning got on his nerves. You felt like he could have handled it better though and you couldn’t help but think like he was growing tired of having to be your backbone; having to comfort you almost every single day on top of his own problems. Your mind wouldn’t stop coming up with all these thoughts and lies you knew weren’t true and you were well aware that it was best to start heading back to your place knowing that you had to be up again in less than five hours.

Seeing him practically leap at the sight of you walking through the door sent so many emotions to your chest. You hated any time spent away from him—there were occasions where your schedules would collide and the only time you would see him was right before bed or if you were coming home from a graveyard shift while he was getting ready to leave for his job.

The dried tears on his cheek confused you; he was the one who caused all of the drama and he had no problem making you feel like you were overreacting and being too sensitive. You were upset with yourself for wanting to walk over towards him and wrap your arms around him—but it was only natural for you to want to do so.

For the entire duration of your shift, he was all you could think about; the thought of Mark was what kept you sane throughout the entire day. No matter how upset he made you, he was still the love of your life—your best friend, your favorite person, your soulmate. One fight wasn’t going to tarnish or falter your feelings for him in any way.

Arguments were considered healthy in a relationship; sure, you could have done without the harsh words being thrown back and forth to one another, but you realized in the coffee shop that you would rather bicker and disagree with Mark every now and then for the rest of your life, then to have a relationship filled with constant joy and laughter with someone else.

It was obvious that he was probably just as tired as you were, but the thought of him staying up worrying about where you were and waiting for you to arrive back home filled your stomach with butterflies. You made your way towards the dining table and took a seat; you waited for him to make the first move because you didn’t know where to start.

“Did you—uh—happen to get my texts?”

You decided to keep your gaze on the cup of coffee he placed in front of you; you didn’t even notice him heating some up for you. Your boyfriend was very observant of the way that you practically lived on coffee; on the days you had morning shifts, he would set an alarm to wake up before you and prepared all the things you needed so that you had less to worry about—coffee being your number one necessity. If you were to look up at him, you were well aware that you would probably cry just at the thought of how considerate he was even under a negative circumstance.

“Yes. I didn’t have a chance to read them though.”

That was a lie. You read every single one of his messages; each message pulling on your heartstrings the more you continued scrolling through them. Although you no longer held any anger towards Mark, you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. A part of you also wanted to hear him apologize in person rather through messages—but you felt in your gut that he would sooner or later. Honestly, you wanted to wait until you were to come home from work tomorrow afternoon so that you were well rested enough to have the right mindset if another argument broke out.

“Oh. Well, I—For starters, I want to apologize for the way I acted towards you. I don’t know what made me say the things I did—I meant it as a joke but you obviously didn’t think it was funny and I don’t know why I expected you to. I’m so fucking sorry y/n. I was an asshole and you didn’t deserve it at all. I know I said some really cruel things in the heat of the moment, but I hope you know I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not a bitch nor are you over-emotional and you don’t get on my nerves. At all. I just—hearing you say those things about me sparked something inside that I wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt me. It took every bone in my body not to run after you. I’ll admit, sure—it was because I wanted to give you your space, but I was also very prideful and still so irritated with the entire ordeal. I regret every single thing I said and did tonight as soon as I realized just how scary it is being out late at night by yourself. I’ve never hated myself more than I did in these last two hours worrying about where you could have gone and what you were doing. I couldn’t stop thinking about your broken expression as you grabbed your things and stormed out the door.”

His voice quickly grew shaky; you knew he was on the verge of crying again just by the tone of his voice. For some reason, you found yourself giving in to him and finally looked up. It felt like a slap to the face; seeing him with the most heart wrenching frown—not once in your relationship did you ever question Mark’s love for you and right now, hearing that he beat himself up for the last few hours while he was going crazy thinking of the many possibilities that something bad happened to you made you come to the realization that the beautiful man in front of you loved you more than you could ever fathom in to words.

“I know you’re tired from work—I don’t know why I didn’t just keep my mouth shut. If I could, I’d go back and prevent this entire night from happening. I was so fucking scared y/n. You don’t know California all that well; you could have taken a wrong turn and ended up on your way to Las Vegas—your car could have broken down in the middle of nowhere and someone could have came and—I don’t even want to think about it. I’m sorry for hurting you—I know you’re well aware that I would rather sit and suffer through listening to Yugyeom and BamBam screaming while playing MarioKart than to hurt you in any possible way. You don’t have to forgive me. Hell, scream at me; yell at me, hit me, do whatever you want to me. Just know that I’m extremely sorry, and I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get you to trust me again.”

He hesitantly stood up and didn’t even spare a glance at you before making his way back into the living room. You were upset that he didn’t give you any time to respond, but at the same time—you were extremely grateful. Right after he left you all alone at the table, you allowed the tears to flow freely from your eyelids as his apology continuously replayed in your mind. Whatever exhaustion you felt from earlier that disappeared right after you abruptly left the apartment was quickly returning—though, you didn’t know if you were physically tired or just mentally drained at this point.

You gave yourself a couple of minutes alone just to plan out what you were going to do. Going to sleep sounded like the most rational decision to make; especially because you were meant to wake up in less than four hours to work another long, grueling and tiresome ten-hour shift. But you didn’t want to go to bed on bad terms with Mark. If he was willing to give up his pride and raise the white flag first just to make sure you were well aware that he was extremely regretful and apologetic of his actions, then it was only righteous of you to forgive him. You got up from your seat and put away the cup of coffee before taking in a deep breath and making your way in to the living room.

The lights were off; but the lights from the hallway were still dimly lit enough for you to notice that Mark was lying down on the couch with a pillow and a blanket wrapped around him. This was the first time since you moved in together that you found him outside on the couch. A small smirk raised on your face—your boyfriend was always so courteous and considerate.

He began tossing and turning in order to find a sleeping position he would be comfortable in. Your couch was pretty spacious and the two of you have slept on it countless times while watching movies together, but you were sure he was probably bummed by your response or lack thereof. You walked over to the end of the couch and gently tapped his thigh with your knee to get his attention.

“What are you doing?”

Although there was barely enough light to even see his figure, you were able to see him shrug nonchalantly at your question—as if you already knew the answer.

“You’re still mad at me. I don’t want to make matters even worse. I’m giving you your space—“ You surprised both yourself and your boyfriend by flopping on top of him, earning yourself a soft whimper. Nonetheless, his hands made their way down towards your lower back without hesitance. His heart was racing against your chest; you had a feeling he wasn’t expecting for you to forgive him tonight let alone throw yourself in top of him. The two of you sat in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sound that could be heard was your breaths and his fingers tapping lightly on your skin. He placed a couple of gentle kisses on your jaw and gripped at your chin; lifting it up to make eye contact with you.

“I lied. I did read the messages and I cried like a baby—you ass. Okay, I’m gonna start off by admitting that there were some things I also said that were out of line and that I did not mean. You are not a bad boyfriend at all Mark—you are the best boyfriend—hell, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. A lot of what I said was because I was so pissed off at you. I had such a terrible day at work. I was scolded by my manager twice for things I didn’t do, I had to work two extra hours to help out because three people called in sick, I was thrown up on and my break was cut short because we were so low staffed today and everyone in California all seemed to have kidney malfunctions on the same damn day. All I wanted to do was fall apart in your arms and have you comfort me like you always do—but then I come home and you make a comment about how lazy I am and I just—I cracked. Normally you’re always so good at picking up on the fact that I’ve had shit days; so, for you to make me feel even worse when all I wanted to do was find solace in you—it made me so fucking sad. And then I went out and drove for a while but I came to the realization that it wasn’t a good idea for me to roam around in a city I’m not familiar with while I was fuming so I went to a coffee shop and just thought about everything.”

Feeling his grip on your hips tighten only made it evident that your words had an effect on him. Sure, you were telling your side of the story and you had every right to—Mark deserved to hear what an asshole he was towards you—the last person in his life that he ever wanted to hurt. But he could just picture you sitting in your car; sobbing and blaming yourself like you’ve done multiple times in the past even if it wasn’t your fault. You were the kind of person who had a tendency to think you were the reason why things went wrong.

Usually, it was in situations at work; but he couldn’t help but feel as if you were beating yourself up about the argument that could have honestly been prevented if he observed your posture and body language and just kept his mouth shut. You wiped away a tear that fell from his cheek before placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I wanted to continue giving you your space, but I had so many negative thoughts running through my mind. I was so, so worried about you. Baby I am so fucking sorry—“ you playfully pinched his cheek before covering his mouth with your hand.

“No more apologies okay? Our argument is in the past. I just want you to know what happened and why I decided to return back so soon. If I’m being honest with you, I was planning on staying out until I had to head in to work again but sleeping in my car is not the most easiest thing to do. You hurt me Mark—I know it wasn’t purposely but for a few minutes, I actually contemplated on staying at a hotel or something. I didn’t want to see you for the rest of the night and I hated that I felt like that—even if it was for a split second. I always want you Mark. Every second—every minute—every hour spent away from you is spent thinking about you. What you’re doing, if you ate your meals on time, how you’re doing, if you miss me the way I can’t stop missing you, when I’ll get to see you next—then I got your message and they just solidified the love you have for me. Not that I ever questioned it once in our three years of dating. I’m sorry about the dishes—I’m sorry if I haven’t been myself these last few days but please Mark—I’m not acting this way on purpose. I’m so tired. You’re the only reason why I don’t end up in a mental institution at the rate I’m going. I’ll try to be better okay? I love you too by the way—so much.”

The longer you spoke, the more tears fell from his eyes knowing how you must’ve felt so unhappy while overthinking the argument and just your entire day in general and he just felt so angry with himself. It was one thing for him to think about how much the argument must have bothered you, but it was another thing to hear you confess what had happened at work before coming home to a nagging and complaining boyfriend.

He felt sick to his stomach and it was even more upsetting because he didn’t have the right words to explain just how sorry he was nor did he know what to do to make it known that he was regretful of the entire situation. Your boyfriend didn’t give you any time to prepare; he cupped your face in his hands and roughly connected your lips together. His lips were chapped and dry and tasted like salt from the tears. However, his movements were dominant and quick; his desire and need to kiss you was all that was on his mind at the moment.

He wanted you to feel how much he loved you and how remorseful he was through the kiss. His tongue pushed down all but gently against your bottom lip before bringing it in between his teeth. The kiss continued to deepen the longer your tongues battled for dominance; any anger you held for your boyfriend was completely gone at this point. As much as you loved the way his lips melded perfectly against yours, you were finally feeling the wave of exhaustion re-enter your body and to Mark’s disappointment, you pulled away and placed your forehead against his.

“Babeeeee—“

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

You got up from off of him and reached your hand out in order to help him up. Mark was the definition of a clingy boyfriend—everyone who knew the two of you both witnessed and heard just how possessive he was over you and how he constantly had to be touching on you. But nobody ever complained—it was so adorable. He wrapped his arms around your stomach and placed his head on your shoulder while letting you guid the two of you towards your shared bedroom. You attempted to escape his hold in order to move around freely, but he had other plans and continued to cling to you like a sloth.

“Babe, I have to get ready for bed—“

“You can get ready while I hold you.”

“I can’t take off my scrubs with your arms around me.”

“I guess that means I have to take them off for you—it would be my pleasure baby.” You rolled your eyes and gently shoved him while grabbing one of his shirts and making your way towards the bathroom.

“Baby?” You hummed in curiosity and gingerly smiled at him.

“It’s already 3 in the morning. Maybe you should call in sick. I don’t like the thought of you going to work with barely any amount of sleep and I know we’ve moved on from our argument—but it’s only human for you to think about it again. I don’t want you getting yelled at again if your manager senses that you’re tired. Plus, you’ve been working so much this last month. I know you love your job, but it’s okay to take a well deserved rest once in a while—“

He had a point. Besides Mark, work was your ultimate priority. Sometimes, you put the hospital before your own health and private life. There were occasions where Mark would invite you out with him and his friends, but a lot of the time, you would either be at work or sometimes be called in as you started getting ready. Working so much led to over exhaustion every now and then but no matter how sick you felt—whether it was a cold, the flu or nausea, you would still find yourself tending to patients. It was something Mark wasn’t all too fond of; especially because your boyfriend seemed to be the only one genuinely concerned about your well-being.

As soon as you finished your nighttime routine, you wasted no time making your way towards where Mark was sitting on the bed and crawled on top of him. He gave you a tired yet toothy grin and pulled you close to his chest. His hands returned to your lower waist and he even playfully pinched your butt; earning himself a slap to the shoulder. You brought one of your hands in to his hair while cupping his cheek lovingly with the other.

“I know you don’t want me apologizing anymore, but I just want to say sorry one last time. I can’t promise we won’t argue again—we’re both stubborn as hell—but I promise to be more patient; more understanding. And I don’t want you leaving—you really did worry me baby. I love you so much y/n. I’m sorry if what I said earlier made you question my love for you—but I love you. I’ve loved you for the last three years and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.” You placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth before smashing your cheek against his chest.

“I love you too. A lot more than I get around to telling you. Fine. If I stay home tomorrow, you owe me.” He gently pulled away from you and began wiggling his brows.

“Oh, and what do you have in mind? You know babe, we don’t need to wait till tomorrow, I can give you what you deserve right now. I’ll take such good care of you—“

“I don’t mean sex you horny ass, I meant you make me breakfast in bed or prepare a bath for me. If I’m calling in sick, I want a relaxing day off.” He gave you an adorable pout while playfully hiding his face in between your breasts and whining softly.

“Making love can be relaxing. Come on Y/n, it’s been almost a week since I had your pretty lips around my cock. I’m sex deprived. As much as I prefer you topping me and riding my cock like the professional cowgirl you are, I’ll take the lead. I’ll eat your pussy out until you cry—fuck you till you scream. Might as well you call out for the entire week. I think you and I both know angry makeup sex is the best sex. Don’t lie y/n, you miss having me inside of you just as much as I miss feeling your tight walls wrapped around me—“

“I think I made a mistake telling you to come in here. Go back to the couch.”

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

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just2bubbly · 3 years

Text

Breaking the news..

Masterlist

Rumors and Affairs Chapter List

// This is an update of What was she thinking?!

Cinder’s Perspective:

She decided to go through the articles. Most of them were dated from when she had escaped out of prison with Thorne. They said how Cinder had run away with her ‘lover’ criminal Thorne. She cringed on the word lover. The more recent ones were about her and Thorne at the Ball. After reading many such articles, she came across the article that was the root cause of all the rumors. It had the picture of her and Thorne standing outside the hall while the ball was going on. He had brought her outside to tell her about how he was going to propose to Cress and Cinder had become so happy to see how far her best friend had come. She had hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. Being pregnant had made her super emotional; she could have a headache or laugh over the silliest thing. The media captured this specific affectionate moment between the two and right now she wanted to kill herself for her idiosyncrasies. She was just hugging Thorne why did they have to make such a fuss about this. Well after reading the entire article she came to realize that the media had misinterpreted the scene between the two. They had thought that the two were meeting outside to have a word without the Emperor catching them and it became a bit affectionate but Empress Selene restrained herself in the fear of getting caught.

Cinder recalled how she had confined Thorne that she was literally more scared of doing childbirth than leading the lunar revolution and he had assured her in a rather affectionate way, where he did hold both of their hands on her swollen stomach. The media had definitely misinterpreted and made a fuss about it. Plus Thorne was known for his flirty personality all over the world and also Luna.

All such times she hated how the press and mass media could not have any restrictions and limitations. Stars, they should not publish stuff that they did not have a clue about.

She was having a strong headache meaning that if she had tear ducts she would be crying now or maybe she was just having a headache from frustration. Either way it was not good for her or the baby. Last month they had a riot outside the palace gate about her cyborg-ness. The hatred towards Cinder had been high time since Kai and she had announced that they have been expecting an heir soon. Kai did his best to make her feel better but she was so insecure in moments like these. After all she had received this hate since she was 11. Memories don’t fade easily, especially bad ones.

She was walking in the gardens when the whole incident had happened. The riots were peaceful but Kai and Torin were all shaken up. It looked like they had been expecting this sometime sooner or later. Well saying that Cinder was not expecting this would be a lie for she had so many nightmares about her being close to a crowd and then a riot would start where she and the baby would be harmed in some way or the other.

Cinder herself had taken so much effort to remove cyborg prejudice. Even then she had to suffer through first hand cyborg hate taking in consideration that she was the Empress of the Eastern Commonwealth.

That’s when she saw it. It was Kai. He had commed her. In a normal and peaceful situation she would be happy and bubbly(I know I just made a reference) to see him but now that the situation was anything but calm and normal. She wanted to not pick his call. Not receiving his comm won’t help her though. So she gave in.

“Hey! You took a lot of time to pick up the comm, were you sleeping?”

Seeing him in front of her eyes she just wanted to hug him and let him whisper to her that everything was fine-

“Hail to Cinder! Are you there?”

“Yeah! Why?”

“Well respond so that I can understand”

“When are you coming back?”

“Oh! I see you were so lost in thinking about me that you forgot to realize that your dear husband Kai is there in front of you! Tell me Cinder, Am I wrong? Did you spend all your time thinking about me then?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Emperor. It does not suit you well.” Technically she had been thinking about him all the time but pregnancy had not made her lose her mind so far so she would not blurt out about how she was day-dreaming about her husband.

“C’mon Cinder why can’t you just accept that you missed me? I do it all the time.”

“Okay Kai. Tell me when are you returning now?”

“I will be there in New Beijing besides you till tomorrow afternoon. I would have left tonight but Queen Camilla invited us to dinner at the royal palace. I don’t want to go-”

“What? You will be coming tomorrow?” she screamed, maybe.

“I thought you would be sad to know that I am delaying my flight because of some stupid dinner.”

“No Kai, it is not like that. Well I certainly do miss you and am happy that you will be there here tomorrow. Stars, it has been difficult without you here but I thought you had yet a week to come and stars above I have so much stuff to do and things to fix. I just don’t have the time to do it before you get back I can’t believe I am running late on my schedule Kai I want-”

“Calm down Cinder. I had asked you to do nothing if you remembered. Plus Torin told me.”

Cinder had covered her face with her hands. She peeked at him a bit scared of his reaction. Why the hell was he being good and not yelling at her if Torin had already told him?!

“What did Torin tell you?”

“Why? Is it problematic that my advisor tells me all about you?”

“That’s not the point Kai. What did he tell you?”

“Nothin’ just how you over-work yourself and do not rest well and keep zoning out between conversations. You really do get hopeless without me.”

“Oh! That’s what Torin told you. Thank goodness”

“Why? Was there something else?”

“NO! Nothing else…. for now at least- I can’t ...I don’t know” why couldn’t she lie towards Kai as easily as she did with the others. It felt like Kai could just look through her soul and realize the truth.

“What happened Cinder? Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Did something happen to you? Did Dr.Nandez say something about the pregnancy? Cinder tell me! ” He looked desperate and all the worst possible scenarios were running through his mind now. She could tell it.

“Kai, I am fine. The baby is fine. Everyone is fine. Well not everyone because Torin and I are all panicked because I did some mistake and screwed up big time….” she trailed.

“Oh! Only that much. Well I thought something happened to you and the baby.”

He sighed before continuing, “What did you do?”

“Well it’s related to the baby. In the head staff meeting I said something that made the entire Thorne-Cinder affair rumors worse.”

“Oh.” he had not expected that.

“Can you brief me about it if it is okay for you or should I ask Torin?”

“Well I kind of blurted out that the rumors about me and Thorne are true while I was zoning out and although I tried to assure them I don’t think that they are much convinced. Shit. I screwed up Kai.”

His eyes had definitely widened. Cinder could tell that without looking. He was trying his best to remain calm but she wanted him to talk. Bloody hell she wanted him to talk now. She was a mess on the inside. Thankfully there were no new rumors about her and Thorne or any news about today’s meeting on her newsfeed yet.

There was an unwanted and suffocating silence between the two of us.

“Well you did screw up big time Cinder but it's okay. Do they know that I know about these rumors?”

“I don’t know. Mostly likely not because I think usually courting outside of marriages are to kept a secret.

“Cinder please.” She should not use sarcasm in situations like these. She nodded and whispered a sorry.

“What should we do?” she asked again trying to take a hold over this bizarre situation.

“You really cannot do anything anymore. Whatever you say will not be given much importance and most likely be doubted so you would only give a single official statement in my presence when I return. For the rest, I will come up with a plan with Torin’s help.”

“Kai stop fighting my battles. You already have done enough by not kicking me out okay. I should take responsibility of my mistakes-”

”It’s okay Cinder. Everything is okay. You and I know that we are madly in love with each other. That’s all that I care about. You would no longer over work yourself. I guess you should stop holding meetings for time being as well, you know as a precaution.” he said the last part teasingly but yet I felt disheartened.

I was glaring at him but then the rumors about our child’s parentage hit me like some train. I could not tell Kai this. He would surely be disappointed. He would be heart-broken.

What should I tell him huh- Hey Kai! The media thinks that the child I am carrying is Thorne’s and not yours. Lol, but you know the truth right?

Sue me.

“There is something more Kai.”

“What?” he asked a bit concerned, a furrowed brow forming.

“They questioned about our baby’s parentage as well”

Upon hearing this he really looked so sad. His face had fallen and he avoided looking at her.

She heard some commotion from his side.

“Cinder I have to go. I am sorry we will talk later. I will figure it out with Torin’s help. Bye. Take care.” He was croaking. Cinder had a headache coming as well.

Before she could reply, he had ended the comm.

Glancing at her net-screen Cinder sighed. There was no news about today’s meeting anywhere. Torin might have done his miracles on the staff again.

A/N: I am thinking about a good damage control idea, so it might take a while. Needless to say, There is more!

( I also have an another Kaider fic named ‘ Nightmares’, if you like Kaider fluff you can check it out!! 🖤 )

Likes, Reblogs and Comments will be much loved! 🖤

P.S Can you suggest some baby names for Kaider child, both the gender please.

#what was she thinking #update #kaider #kaider fanfics #just2bubbly fics #fanfiction #emperor kaito #kai #linh cinder #carswell thorne #cress darnel #marissa meyer #tlc #lunar chronicles #konn torin

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kitkat1003 · 3 years

Text

On the issue of Mortality

AO3 Link

MK chose to be mortal, to be vulnerable, for the time being, and Monkey King is fine with that.

On the surface, at least. Now he has a successor, one that he likes, and he’s vulnerable????

Yeah, he’s never going to sleep easy again.

(Or, 11 chapters through season 1 about Monkey King, and anxiety his successor gives him. Who knew being a dad teacher would be so hard?)

Chapter 1: Picking a successor

(Or “Look, I’m gonna come clean. Um...I’ve been kinda watching you”)

When Sun Wukong—the Monkey King—decides he needs a successor, it isn’t an easy decision. For one, he refuses to admit why. Because that would mean confronting it all and he doesn’t want to.

He needs a successor because he wants one. Who doesn’t want to retire? It’s not like he’s spent hundreds of thousands of years in technical retirement, waiting for the Demon Bull King to return. No, he’s been...super busy. Yeah. Turning Flower Fruit Mountain into a paradise has totally taken him…forever, and, like, he’s got lots of stuff to do. He watches TV, once humans get electricity figured out. Gets a computer too, once those things start popping up. He gets a lawyer or two, yknow, keeping up with the times.

He’s...super busy. He definitely deserves a retirement.

So all that’s left is find a successor. Easy, right?

Well....

He actually starts looking when he hears whispers that the Demon Bull family is starting to get close to figuring out how to lift his staff. So about a hundred years before Demon Bull King actually escapes.

He finds a few kids he thinks might work, but nothing happens, anyway, so there’s no point in interrupting their boring normal lives for nothing. Besides, he doesn’t really see any of them with the spark of...something that he wants in his successor in any of them

He watches them grow. Child to teen to adult, he watches, and then he leaves before they get too old because he doesn’t want to see the headstones.

He doesn’t understand why they have to be human. Why they have to be mortal. Why they have to be able to die.

Why he has to watch them die.

Years and years pass. He gets lax, when looking for a successor. Lax when it comes to keeping an eye on the Demon Bull family.

He does, on occasion, watch the town where his staff is. It’s a pretty populace place, always buzzing with some sort of activity, which is both fun and boring.

One night, he watches a kid—no older than 13, he thinks, since he’s gotten used to watching humans grow and can gauge it pretty well—sprint down the street in the rain, wearing nothing but a ratty old hoodie, a shirt, shorts, torn up shoes, and a headband so dirty that even he can’t discern the original color.

There are three other figures chasing him, and he ducks into an alley as they sprint past. Monkey King watches as the kid settles down, sitting in the alley, and pulling something out from beneath his hoodie.

A puppy.

“Hey there, little guy,” the kid’s voice is soft, and he scritches the tiny pup behind the ears. “Sorry I couldn’t get your siblings, but they’d already been thrown in the lake—” the look on the kid’s face is nothing short of heartbreaking.

Monkey King has plans for the group of thugs he saw earlier, if that’s what they were doing. Humans.

“But hey, managed to save you, huh? I’ll bring you to a shelter in the morning. Someone will take you home and you’ll get loved to death.” Monkey King rolls his eyes at the saccharine display, but he wonders.

There isn’t a lot of crime in this city, with its advancements. What’s a kid doing outside this late at night?

“I’d take you home with me, but mine’s more of a hovel than a place to live. You can still see it, though! C’mon,” the kid gets up, stumbling a little, and Monkey King notices that he’s favoring one leg, that the elbow of one of the sleeve’s of his hoodie is wet.

He follows.

The kid’s house is literally a shack made of a metal sheet wedged between an alley wall. There’s a ‘bench’ that’s a slab of rock placed on top of more rocks, where a well loved sketchbook sits.

The kid sits on the bench, setting the puppy down beside him as he flips open his sketchbook.

“I’m gonna draw you, so I don’t forget, kay?” He pats the pup on the head, and then, using the smallest, most worn down pencil Monkey King has ever seen, he slowly carves out the puppy’s features, getting the soft tones of fur. He keeps squinting, but Monkey King thinks that’s because all he has is the light of the lamppost for his vision.

This kid...is pretty darn good.

Monkey King watches for way longer than he would like to admit, and then watches as the kid pulls out a very worn blanket-substitute, curling around the puppy beneath it.

He frowns, but isn’t sure what to do about it.

So he leaves, and makes sure those thugs learn a thing or two about treating animals with respect.

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This kid just keeps popping up in Monkey King’s peripherals.

He likes to people watch, and the kid will just appear from nowhere. He’ll be running down the street, hanging out with this girl who looks about 3 economic classes above him. They’ll go to the arcade and play for hours, and she’ll pay for practically everything.

He decides he likes her, if she’s nice enough to do that for the kid. Plus, he feels a familiar energy coming off of her, something he trusts.

They typically end their day at a noodle shop. Pigsy’s? The kid always pays there, with coins of various sizes. The girl, when the kid isn’t looking, will slip the cook some more money. They get steaming hot bowls of ramen, harass the cook, and eventually get half chased out, laughing all the while.

“You know you can stay with me, right?” The girl says, one day, when Monkey King is people watching (read: eavesdropping on their conversation. It’s like his new favorite TV show, at this point). Kid rolls his eyes.

“Mei, c’mon, your relationship with your folks is as strained as mine! I wouldn’t want you to end up like me. Besides, I’m fine!” he insists with the grin Monkey King has grown accustomed to seeing on Kid’s face.

The information Monkey King gains from those two sentences is certainly something, and he ponders on Mei, the girl who spends her days as far away from home as possible.

Mei frowns.

“You still won’t show me where you’re staying. Or explain why your clothes are all torn up!” She pokes him in the chest, and the Kid shrugs.

“Cause you wouldn’t like either of those things! I can take care of myself! Promise.” He rocks back and forth on his feet, all smiles.

Mei fixes him with a glare, before she sighs, relenting. “Fine. But, if you won’t take my hospitality, you get my undying loyalty and free stuff!” She whips out a brand new red winter coat.

Kid takes it slowly.

“It’s getting colder out!” She explains. “And red just isn’t my color, you know?”

Kid slowly pulls the jacket against his chest, like he doesn’t know what to do with it, and then he smiles. This one is smaller. Less performative. Monkey King didn’t realize that he’d been watching the kid to be able to tell the difference, but it’s not too hard to see. Kid uses big smiles like a cloak, to hide what’s underneath. The smaller ones-those are like the slivers of sunlight shooting out from an eclipse. Wukong finds he prefers the smaller ones.

Kid wraps his arm around Mei’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Mei.”

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The days get colder, and Kid is still in that shack. Monkey King finds out that Kid doesn’t steal for money. Instead, he does little odd jobs for short change, and then looks for coins people have dropped. Apparently, the city’s wealth has made people more loose with their change.

Mei drags him to warm places as often as she can, but apparently this time of year she has a lot of responsibilities, or “social events,” as she calls them, so she can’t be around as much.

Kid doesn’t seem to mind, shivering through the nights, curling himself as tight as possible with that jacket and shitty blanket, and Monkey King doesn’t know why he even cares, but...

He’s not cruel. It isn’t pleasant to watch a kid suffer.

And then, Kid gets sick. Like, delirious, fever sick, and he’s not getting better.

And Monkey King has told himself, a million times, that he would let Kid figure his own life out, but he ends up picking Kid up anyway, depositing him at the ever familiar noodle shop.

The cook drags the boy inside, and Monkey King doesn’t see Kid on the streets after that.

Good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kid starts working at the noodle shop, apparently, and he lives above the shop. Slowly, he accrues random objects. Sketchbooks, games, figurines, Monkey King comics? He watches the show near religiously, and Monkey King is both flattered and weirded out.

A super fan, huh? Okay then.

And when he isn’t working, or watching “Monkey King: The Animated Series,” or reading Monkey King comics, he’s begging the resident bookworm, Tang, for stories, which he then sketches out.

Monkey King actually goes through the sketchbook once, when Kid’s asleep. Yup, Kid’s really, really good at this. Monkey King actually thinks about stealing a drawing, but that would be both very obvious and also stupid.

So he lets it go. He ought to look for his successor, anyway. He hears the Demon Bull family is getting close.

He leaves Kid to his life and moves on to his own.

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He can’t find a successor. Somehow. It’s like every person in this city (and it would have to be in this city, because you need to be close to the staff in some regard if you want to have a connection with it. Being born near it, living near it-makes it easy for the energy, the chi, to find you) doesn’t want anything to do with hero business. The kids he considers are too small, the adults too...boring.

And he’s getting pretty frustrated here, because he thinks he might just have to fight the Demon Bull King all over again, which, ugh.

And then, it clicks.

He’s watching Kid drive around town, delivering orders, and somehow the kid steers towards the construction site. Toward the staff.

Of course.

God, it was literally staring him in the face. He feels kind of dumb, now that it hits him, but whatever. Not like anyone’s around to tease him about it.

He watches Kid waltz towards danger, music in his headphones too loud to notice the literal demon family, until Kid opens his eyes and sees the whole demon army there, and hoo boy, is this comical.

Monkey King wonders if they’ll succeed this time, in lifting his staff. They certainly seem confident. He’s kind of curious, kind of bored. The whole ‘take our rightful place as rulers of this world’ schtick is super annoying, and Red Son’s voice is grating.

The light show is pretty nice, though, and then.

Then.

Demon Bull King’s a lot smaller than he remembers, but his voice is the same, as is his attitude. Monkey King can feel Kid shaking and takes a quick sweep of the area. Seems his successor is right above Red Son.

He smirks to himself, not that anyone can see considering he’s a bird right now.

This is going to be hilarious.

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When Kid touches the staff, Monkey King isn’t prepared for the feeling he gets.

It’s like he’s been the single Sun in an endless galaxy, surrounded by darkness, when suddenly another star appears from nowhere, throwing him into orbit with it. The galaxy shifts, the light doubles, the darkness recedes.

Monkey King’s own center, his sun, feels red hot, warm, and tempered by years of life, with a spark of yellow and white in its center. Kid’s is bright, brilliant golden yellow, more white than any color, bursting with energy.

That energy gets put to work pretty quickly, as the Kid fumbles his way out of the demon’s den, and Monkey King soars after him, watching the escape with a smile.

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He doesn’t properly meet Kid until he gets shot all the way to Flower Fruit mountain. After Kid escapes Red Son, he panickedly tells his friends what’s going on and tries to get there on his own.

Well, all the way is a bit much. Maybe Monkey King had to catch Kid and fly him there, because Kid was looking half dead and Monkey King was a little worried, but that’s beside the point. He leaves Kid on the shore, and follows him when Kid gets up.

He isn’t expecting the frustration, when he can’t be found, but he supposes that’s his cue.

Getting stepped on is unpleasant. Guess Kid doesn’t like bugs.

God, the look on Kid’s face, when it hits him that Monkey King’s been watching him! If he could frame a memory, that would be it. Hoo, boy, is that going to be replaying in his head for a while. Kid seems more bewildered than anything else, and the idea of being Monkey King’s successor doesn’t sit well with him.

Which, Monkey King doesn’t get that. Who wouldn’t want to be taught by him?

But maybe he overestimates the kid’s spunk, his confidence, because waving off his worries doesn’t spur him on; rather, it seems to deflate him.

Ugh. Why is being a teacher difficult? It’s not like his teacher had a hard time with him, right?

Distantly, he thinks he can hear his master shouting at him. He hops off his cloud, says just the right thing to get Kid pumped up, and watches him race off.

He considers just sitting back and not watching, but then, that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?

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He isn’t actually sure what having a successor means, really. How much their powers, their lives, would mirror his own. A part of him was terrified by the prospect—could he even be known as anything special, if he was no longer one of a kind?

But there’s also something quite exciting about this. The idea that your life is being rewritten, the story unfinished and yet also repeating itself. The Demon Bull King is on the loose, with his army and family, trying to take over the world.

And only one person can stop him. The Monkey King.

Kid’s powers are volatile. He can feel them flare up from time to time, wildly flickering out of control. A lack of self confidence, that might be causing it. A part of him is annoyed by that, a part of him is relieved. Far better to have to teach someone to believe in themselves than teach them humility. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t learned that latter lesson all the way yet.

Kid vanishes into the Demon Bull King’s chest, where the staff lies, and for a moment, the new sun vanishes. Monkey King feels the cold rush of space in its absence, and feels panic, even though he’s only known this warmth for a few hours.

But then, it bursts back into existence, as a familiar stone drops from the Demon Bull King’s chest, cracking open, and, well, it’s history being written the same way over and over again, isn��t it?

Kid has a flair for silliness, childish maneuvers. He likes to have fun, and that’s the best part of the powers they share. To be invincible, to have fun while saving the day.

It’s a repeat, until, well, it isn’t.

The blow Kid takes makes Monkey King wince. The body becoming invulnerable takes time. It doesn’t just immediately show up. Every second, Kid’s body is absorbing and meshing with the powers thrust upon it, but that doesn’t mean getting hit a mile by a guy twenty times your size doesn’t still hurt, at this point.

But Monkey King knows this is what has to happen. Because heroes aren’t heroes if they never feel pain, never get hit.

Heroes, he thinks, as Kid tears himself from the wall he’s embedded in, as Kid stands, eyes ablaze, are heroes when they get hit and they get back up.

And Kid sure as hell does.

“I’m the Monkey Kid!” He shouts, like a battle cry, like a challenge, and Monkey King smirks. Monkey Kid, huh? It suits him. And then, Kid slams the staff on the ground, and the world shifts.

A part of him is kind of jealous. How come he never got a mech?! Has that been a thing this entire time? Another part is in awe of this Kid’s creativity, ability, at such a young age.

And seeing DBK get trounced again certainly keeps the jealous part of him quiet.

Kid’s got a nice group of friends. Reminds him of his journey days, him and a rag tag group of idiots going around wreaking havoc and learning moral lessons at the end of it. He’s glad Kid isn’t alone or on the streets anymore. A strong foundation leads to a stronger ability to grow.

Well, he’d better get some sort of training regimen ready. Or, at least, start thinking of some things to do to train this kid. He’s sure at some point Kid is going to bug him for a lesson or two.

Somehow, the thought doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it should.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid mk #monkie kid monkey king #sun wukong #kitkat1003 #monkie kid mei

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