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yandere-sins · 3 years

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a/n: The first giveaway price for the sweet @ohno-otome ♥ It was a pleasure working with you and I had a lot of fun with this piece! Thanks for participating ♥

Characters: Yandere!Shinsou Hitoshi x Fem!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Non-con, Lemon, Biting, Rough Handling, Manipulation, Obsessive behavior, Future!AU Words: 5901

Locking his office’s door, Shinsou gave it a precautious pull to check that the important documents were kept safe inside. Luckily, he never had problems like the other heroes - Bakugou and Midoriya especially - where spies would come and try to steal his business information. He was just a good hero, not a superhero. Good. But his firm was going well enough to have some reliable heroes working under him, and that was enough for Shinsou.

Putting on his coat, he made his way down the long corridor to the elevator. His secretary had made sure to lock up before leaving earlier that evening, Shinsou supposedly the only one late, so he was left in the dark with only the dim emergency lights shining his way. It had gotten pretty late, quarter after eleven, but he was glad he got to go home at all that day rather than sleep on the office couch again. A nice, hot shower and a barely used bed were expecting him after all; how could he refuse these alluring offers of his own home?

Shinsou only slowed down his steps when he noticed the faint lights shining out of one of the offices located further down the hallway. Well, he was supposed to be the last, but honestly, he didn’t know who went home already and who hadn’t. Stepping to the far right so he could look ahead at the doors better, he noticed it was your office still occupied, and for a moment, he tensed, fearing the worst. What if it was a spy or robber that had broken in? You were the media representative of the company. Every statement and scandal that needed to be worked on, promotions sent out, and appearances that needed to be managed were in your hand. It could be fatal if unnecessary pieces of information came to light because someone snooped through your work.

Stepping closer on soft soles, Shinsou tried to make out sounds that would confirm his suspicions. However, it quickly became clear that it was just you by the long sigh you heaved. It had been a few days since he last saw you, always too busy to check in with everyone in his company, so Shinsou not only felt relieved but also a little happy he’d get to send you home that day. He felt his heart flutter but quickly composed himself. You worked harder than most at his company, your work never coming to an end, and as your boss, he had to stay professional even if you made his pulse race. It would be his greatest pleasure for him to send you home now, considering it was already late. That’s the least he could do for someone he was so fond of.

Without hesitation, Shinsou knocked, hearing rustling rush through your office as you stuttered, “O-One second!” in surprise, and he couldn’t help but grin hearing your voice. You had always been special to him; after all, you had been one of the first to ever join his firm when it was still in its baby shoes. You stuck with him all this time even as the company grew and more responsibilities were shoved your way, and you both grew with the challenges. Truly, if anyone, you and Shinsou were the backbone of this whole endeavor, and he was incredibly fond of your never-ceasing enthusiasm and charisma.

Not long after, he heard you walk up to the door quickly, opening it with a tired smile on your face. “Good Evening!” you greeted him, still as chipper as if it was morning, but he knew that the bags under your eyes weren’t lying about how exhausted you are. “Are you ready to go home?” he asked, looking over your shoulder to your desk and seeing the many files and papers piling up on your desk. “O-Oh, you know… Just a few more minutes, and I’ll be done.”

Shinsou couldn’t help but not believe you. ‘A few more minutes’ always meant at least one more hour, and leaving you now to go home while you had to stay late would make him feel incredibly guilty. “What are you working on? Can I help you with it?” he asked, stepping forward to get inside when you stood in his way firmly.

“Nothing, Sir! I’ll be out here in a bit and lock the door when I leave! You don’t have to worry about me.”

Odd, he thought, his brows furrowing in suspicion. “It looks like a lot, though,” he tried to persuade you, and this time, when he tried to move past you, you reluctantly gave up your stance to let him in. “It really isn’t!” you were quick to call after him, but you had probably already realized Shinsou wasn’t going to be swayed from his idea that quickly. “One of our men got into a quarrel with someone from Endeavor’s firm, and I just need to write down the public statement and be gone!”

You rushed past him, and Shinsou couldn’t stop wondering why you seemed so hectic. Setting down his bag and the coat he had taken off again already, he reached for the file on top of all the others to have a look himself. However, before he could so much as pick it up, your hand fell down onto it, and he was surprised by the strength you used to pin it beneath your palm. Finally, Shinsou looked up at you, watching as you avoided his gaze, gnawing on your lip. Something was definitely wrong.

When you first started, both you and he had been rookies at best. Everything you two did wasn’t up to par with other companies, but you two bit your tongues and accepted the whiplash you received for the ways you were doing things. All this made you both stronger, and before long, you wouldn’t go out to have drinks anymore every night, becoming more serious and working even harder. Yes, the work changed you two, but he thought it was simply the way of growing up. However, right now, your behavior was childish at best. He was just offering help. Shinsou trusted you more than himself, but the way you acted gave him a bad feeling.

“[Name],” he said gently, trying to soothe the tension coming from you. “Show me what you’re working on, I will help you with it, and we can wrap it up and go home. You look like you could use the sleep.”

He’d be the bigger person. Shinsou realized that all these responsibilities had always just been on your shoulders. Perhaps he should have hired someone to take some of the workloads off of you. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to accept help now? You might feel like you weren’t good enough if you couldn’t keep up with it. He made a mental note to look into hiring a helping hand for you the next day.

Finally, you looked up at him, almost as if tears were going to shoot into your eyes. You sighed, shoulders slumping and your hand slowly sliding off the top of the file, only to grab your own arm and hugging yourself. Something was very wrong; that’s what Shinsou’s gut told him. Very, very wrong.

Opening up the file, he skipped through the sentences, trying to remember what incident it was with only a few keywords. Even if it wasn’t his main priority work, he knew about difficulties that the heroes of the agency had, nonetheless because he was the one to reprimand them and make decisions over further actions. But his brows kept furrowing as he began to read the sentences properly, realizing that what he held in his hands wasn’t a press statement about a work-related incident at all. This was a big promotion for a hero, and that hero wasn’t Shinsou.

His mouth opened, surprised, taken aback by his findings. It was hard to piece together why exactly he was holding a piece of your work, but it wasn’t for his agency at all. Immediately, a hundred little devils peaked up inside of him, giving him all kinds of bad ideas. He didn’t want to believe them, especially when they spoke about betrayal from you so much, but Shinsou’s eyes searched for yours helplessly as he kept on coming up with more bizarre explanations.

“It’s… it’s not like that!” you were quick to deny it as you caught his gaze. Shinsou wished that the bad feeling he had prior to this would disappear hearing you say that, but really, it had already begun to fester inside of him. “How is it then?” he croaked, wishing you’d give him a good reason for your doings. To him, this seemed like you’d be leaving. It seemed like you were preparing to get a better gig somewhere else. Was this agency no longer good enough? Was Shinsou no longer good enough for you? After everything you two went through?

“They’re my friend! I was just helping them to get a better start with agencies! That’s why I made these promotions for them...”

Oh, he wished he could have believed that. You were convincing, but the bad spiral Shinsou already found himself on had taken over, telling him it was all a lie. “Promotions?” he mumbled, reaching for another file and another. Photos, praise - all of it in your writing and composition. Why wasn’t there even one file that would have shown him the work you did for Shinsou and his agency? Was he not worthy of receiving the same attention you put into these promotions of a hero Shinsou hadn’t even heard about?

Yes, they were a nobody. But you’d rather use your precious time and skill to promote them than Shinsou.

It was irrational, but every one of the files he picked up felt like a stab in the heart to him. It was Shinsou you were working for! He should have been the one at the receiving end of all your attention! All this time together, had it meant nothing to you? Did he mean nothing to you? Because to him, you were everything.

“I-I’m sorry!” you burst out, heaving a deep sigh. But how much could he believe your words after all this?

“I really shouldn’t have done it in the office, but here’s where all my materials and files are… It won’t happen again!” You bowed deeply to your superior, but all Shinsou could worry about was if you truly understood the graveness of the problem here.

You shouldn’t have done it at all.

You should have only worked for him, just like you always did.

The awkwardness as Shinsou didn’t reply at all hung heavy over your heads, and you did the only thing you could come up with after admitting your mistake. “Since I promise I won’t work on those anymore, let’s go home! We can talk more tomorrow, but it’s really getting late, and I know you have to come in early again…” If it had been any other colleague of his, they wouldn’t have talked to him this way. But you… you were just special, and perhaps, you knew it. You knew he couldn’t just fire and let go of you, no matter what you did or how you behaved. Was that why you thought it was okay to search for someone else to give you what you needed? Didn’t Shinsou do enough for you anymore?

Picking up some of the files to take home with you, you grabbed your coat and bag before passing by him, urging him to come to an end as well. You had a lot of freedoms with him, especially considering how he felt about you. But now, as you walked on by, he felt like you were cracking the beautiful image of you that he had in his mind. No matter how exhausting and stressful his day was, he knew coming back to you, have you laugh with him, and cheer him up would mend everything. Had you been playing with him until now? Played with his feelings so you could do whatever you wanted? Was he not enough, so you had to give your attention to other heroes now?

What should he do, now that he was on the brink of falling into this bottomless abyss you left him in?

Shinsou never wanted this to happen. Not like this, at least. God, even if he never told you, he loved you! It was his fault for not knowing better, but even if you didn’t know about his feelings either, you couldn’t just leave. No, he couldn’t let you leave like that.

“Don’t go,” he mustered to say, eerily calm even though the mixture of feelings inside of him burned brighter than flames.

“I’m sorry--?” you replied, feeling your whole body coming to an immediate halt before you even reached the door. The files plummeted to the floor, and no muscle would listen as you told them to act. You were frozen in place as if you looked into Medusa’s eyes. It was pure desperation. Shinsou would have never used his quirk on you, but this was an exception. No matter what he did, he couldn’t help himself, desperate as he was. All he wanted was to be the center of your attention, just like you were his. Days were long and dragged out, but not one passed where he wasn’t thinking about you. So maybe, if he couldn’t get what he needed from you by being good, he had to be bad instead.

“I would have given you everything,” he muttered as he turned around, slowly stepping up to you from behind. The, “But I was too scared to tell you how I felt,” stayed hidden in his throat as he approached, reaching out to you. If you could have spoken, you’d probably have screamed and cursed at him for using his quirk, and if he had let you move, you might have kicked and run. You were a feisty one; always had been. And he liked that about you too. Liked that he didn’t need to worry so much about you because you knew how to defend yourself and were strong on the inside as well as the outside. But Shinsou worried now. He worried about you, and even more so, he worried about the future you two had together.

Bringing his hand up and reaching around you, he placed it around your throat to pull you back against his chest, his other hand turning your face to the side so he could easily lean in for a kiss. Others had dreamy dates before their first kiss, and he felt sorry that he couldn’t give that to you. He felt sorry that he never told you about his feelings for you, but you just had to understand. You had to see it for yourself.

You had to realize that it was best to stay on his side. His good side, preferably.

It was a shame that he had to use his quirk on you, all your movements specified by him, even your lips moving to the rhythm of the kiss. Natural was always better, but he’d accept this for now. His hands began to roam, crossing the buttons on your blouse and returning to loosen them up. Shinsou faintly remembered dreaming about this in particularly lonely nights, the feeling of your chest heaving beneath his touch, your lips on his. This was so much better than that dream, though; much better than any expectations he had even.

The gentle shudders as he pinched your nipple, your bra pushed aside for easy access. “Fucking tease,” he mumbled, tearing himself away from the kiss to wander down to your shoulder, your blouse slowly but surely slipping off your body. “You always wore these tight shirts to show off those great tits of yours, didn’t you?”

Shinsou didn’t allow you to respond, completely satisfied by the moan you bit back. The feeling of you, the sounds you made - even if it wasn’t because you wanted him to do all of this, it felt so much better than anything Shinsou could have ever imagined. You deserved better in every way. You deserved more pay and praise for your work, and you deserved a better man to touch and ravage you. But his hand slipping beneath your skirt and into your stockings and panties, Shinsou made himself believe that he had to do for now. He loved you enough that he couldn’t ignore the shivers and gasps coming from you as he slit his fingers between your labia, happy to find the building wetness welcoming him.

“Look at me,” he moaned against your lips. “Only me.”

Oh, it was excruciating. Shinsou loved you; he loved you so much! He wanted to make you the happiest he ever could, even if he had long lost any rights to it. Everything about you should be satisfied, mind and body alike, and he so, so wished it was because of him. If only he could have been your hero rather than anyone else’s. Even he didn’t know why he ever held back on telling you his feelings and desires for you! But now you were here, and you were with him, his cock building up a noticeable bulge in his pants just from touching you.

He’d give you all that you deserved right then and there.

Oh, yes, he would. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered into your ear, rubbing against you from behind. You had the permission to speak, and yet, you hesitated or maybe didn’t realize it. When he drove his fingers into your depths, you jumped in surprise and stimulation, the words that his quirk had held back just falling from your mouth in masses.

“No--! No, stop! Please just stop it!” you piped up in a panic as if you had only now realized what he was doing with you. But this was just the start of something magical that you had yet to understand. Something only Shinsou could make you experience. “Shh, it’s alright,” Shinsou cooed gently, feeling the goosebumps erect on your skin as his voice echoed through your head, and his fingers explored deeper.

Next in line for caresses were your earlobes, his lips kissing and parting around them, small nibbles to accompany the touches inside you. Shinsou was nothing if not careful. You should have known better than to test him, but you kept nagging, enough to make him reconsider allowing you to speak. “Shinsou…” you mumbled, your voice one step away from being a sob. His name from your lips felt heavenly, but it was a disappointment to find out the reason you were calling out to him.

“Please let me go! I won’t tell anyone. We can just part ways and forget about all of this, alright?”

Disappointment and frustration spread through him like wildfire as he sighed inwardly, resting his forehead on your shoulder for a moment, thinking. “You still don’t get it,” he eventually muttered, pulling his hand from your panties and bringing it up to your lips. You may have wanted to shut your mouth tightly as his wet fingers approached it, but with them pressing up against it and with nowhere to go, you had to open up for them. Pressing them down onto your tongue, he played the muscle like a guitar, pulling and releasing it. Surely it gave you a good taste of yourself, but even more so, when he took a step back, you had no other chance but to follow, eyes widening as you were dragged back further into the room.

With one skilled strike of his arm, all of the files and papers piled up on your desk, your laptop and phone, as well as pens and personal items, met their fate of plummeting to the ground. It was a good thing that you were the last two in the agency for that day; the crashing surely wouldn’t go unnoticed if it hadn’t been just you two. “You’re staying,” he ordered, not letting any room for interpretation. “Come on, [Name].”

Patting the desk, your body, led by his quirk, knew exactly what to do, even if your insides were raging. Shinsou had tried to be nice about it, hadn’t he? But apparently, you needed more satisfying, more convincing reasons for staying if leaving was all you could think about while he was still nice to you. At least your body knew how to behave, sitting down at the edge. Shinsou could see in your eyes how much it frightened you to not be in control, but what did you have to worry about? He was in control now, so you were in good hands.

Loosening his tie, Shinsou pulled it off, brushing back his hair with a sigh. In the end, it was him who had to take matters into his hand. He had always relied on you, but that wasn’t enough anymore. It was okay, though. Even if you shivered with your whole body, he was satisfied with watching you unzip your skirt and pulling it down, stockings and panties following. It seemed like a struggle to get them off your feet with your shoes still on, but ever the gentlemen, Shinsou bent down to pull everything off one foot, kissing your shin before standing up again, your ankle in his grip.

Steading your foot on the table, Shinsou didn’t waste time with long preludes. It was his time to taste you now. Tender affection was good, but by now, he wondered if you really deserved that from him. Maybe if you had thought about his feelings in this matter, back when he allowed you to reason still, he wouldn’t have to push it onto you, but this way, he had no other chance but to take what he wanted. Roughly if needed.

Pressing his mouth between your legs, Shinsou grunted at the first taste of you, much sweeter than he had expected. Lodged against your entrance is where he could have stayed for hours, but he was quick to direct his attention to your clit, licking at it as if there was no second chance for him to ever love you like this. His tongue was a well-skilled muscle, just like any other on his body, and only got replaced by his thumb when he decided to move on. Had you ever thought about him going down on you? Did you want him to come into your office like this and take you right there, on your precious work desk? Shinsou had dreamt about it before, but had you? Had you ever craved his attention this much as well? If yes, was that the reason your mouth couldn’t hold back on its moans and gasps, your body flinching ever so often when a jolt of pleasure ran through you?

Even with him controlling everything, your reactions were so naughty, downright teasing to the man who loved you so much. He had decided now. Decided to make you his. Shinsou would never let you leave, even if you feared rather than respected him in the future. These other heroes wouldn’t make you happy either, and he just knew they were taking advantage of your great work.

“I’m the one that you want,” he mumbled, his breath tickling over your sensitive skin. “Can’t you see how much I appreciate you? Why would you ever work for someone else?”

Your response was covered by moans while you tried not to give in to the ecstasy that Shinsou spread through you. Even if you never agreed on this, both of your bodies were on fire. “No one can give you what you need better than I do.” Finally, Shinsou had set his mind on what to do. Wasn’t it better to stay with the person who loved you and took advantage of you rather than some ‘friend’ doing it? Even if you couldn’t accept him, by the end of it, you’d have to accept the fate that would bind you to him. Because Shinsou was the only one who could give you all you needed.

With his tongue out, Shinsou licked you up all the way back to your mouth, catching you in a gasp before plunging his fingers back in your cunt, this time curling and working you up into a frenzy. It had all been his imagination before, but having you cum, squeals pushing against his lips, made him realize how perfect you two were for each other. He didn’t think you were such an easy girl, cumming just from being eaten out and fingered, but here you were, bending your back and sighing into the kiss as if you just had a glimpse of heaven. It was unbearable to hold back any longer, his cock feeling like it would burst out of his pants any second now.

While you still rode the waves of pleasure, Shinsou grabbed your arm to turn you around, having your ass perk up over the table edge, perfectly positioned for him. Using his own legs to push yours out of the way, Shinsou finally freed his member from the holdback of clothes on him, giving it a few strokes for good measure. Gripping hard into the supple flesh of your butt, he pushed the cheeks out of the way, rubbing up against your slit and coating his cock in your juices. The slippery wet and the cold air on his heated body only excited him more, his tip finding the perfect spot to enter you as if you two were made for each other.

Reaching for your hair, he let the strands tangle around his fingers, pulling you back. Your body was quick to react, curving you perfectly, so he had easy access to your entrance. First, the tip pushed in, but inch for inch, the rest of his cock followed, your walls clenching and relaxing around him as he was welcomed inside of you. Hot, pulsing eagerness mixed with your wet insides created a harmonic synergy that Shinsou felt himself fall more in love with by the second.

Shinsou had enough resolve to control his lust, even though now that he was inside you, he wanted nothing more than to pound you till orgasm. But this was for you, too. And so he tempered himself, the first few pull-outs being as slow and gentle as possible with his heart running amok in his chest. Eventually, he latched onto the back of your neck, pressing down to gain even more access to your inside. You struggled with his fingers clenching around the sides of your neck, but whenever it got unbearable, he loosened up, but never enough that you could have escaped his hold, your mouth gasping for air before falling victim to yet another moan.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he noted as it became harder and harder to control himself. Shinsou felt like an animal, and you were his prey. Maybe if he’d bite you, he’d be able to control himself better and calm the ecstatic feelings inside of him. So he did, without you even realizing it until his teeth sunk into your shoulder, and his own jaw hurt, not being made to gobble up another human. But the truth was that it did help. The pain helped him to free his obsessive mind. So much so that for a moment, he regained conscience, realizing the wrongness of his doings. With his eyes wide open, he let go of your shoulder, his teeth marks embedded in your flesh. Yet, Shinsou couldn’t help but think how perfect you looked with his mark, considering giving you more as his hips continued to pound into you.

“Never leave!” he whined as he looked down at your perfect form beneath him. He felt every shudder and ever flinch in your pussy, your walls clenching and relaxing around him every time he went in and out of you. “Swear to me you won’t leave me!”

Shinsou needed to hear it from you. He needed that confirmation just like the air he was breathing. You were gasping and moaning, shivering as you felt your second orgasm build up inside of you. Right now, you simply had to think about him and him only, right? That’s why he needed you to say it! Say you wouldn’t leave for some other hero! Say you’d never look at someone else the way you were looking at Shinsou!

If only once you could tell him that you liked him as much as he did, that would have been enough for him.

There was no time for either of you to complete this conversation as Shinsou slammed into you from behind once more, deeply lodging himself inside you as hot, white semen erupted from his cock. You squealed as you felt him fill you up while he did a couple more pushes into you, instinctively knowing how to make his sperm go as deep as possible. Slumping on top of you, Shinsou buried you beneath him, your mind going blank when you reached your own limit, unable to perceive the tender kisses on your shoulder as he comforted you through your own raging orgasm. Shinsou felt on cloud seven, and he hoped you did too, though he suspected your mind to be fried by now from his quirk and two releases of pleasure.

With his quirk vanishing upon releasing the pressure that had built up inside of him, all Shinsou could think of was you, you, and more you. This was all he ever wanted, but he wished that you’d feel the same way. Rolling you back over, Shinsou cupped your cheeks in his hands, whispering, “You can’t work for anyone else, got it? Look who satisfies you. Look who made you into what you are. Do you think anyone else could make you feel like this other than me?”

Brushing his lips over yours, Shinsou was sure you weren’t in your right senses anymore, but when you stammered, “N-No…” he couldn’t help but smile, his heart warming at it. So you did understand. You did know it, after all. He gave you what you deserved. He was the only real hero for you, someone who satisfied and took control. And Shinsou earned your recognition for it. He deserved to be loved by you for it, just like he loved you.

Leaning down to your shoulder, he kissed the top of the mark left there, sighing deeply. There wasn’t a way to describe how relieved he felt that his efforts had come to fruition. As long as you realized to which side you should stick, he was more than happy; even if you two had crossed a line, you couldn’t go back over anymore. “You’re mine now, I marked you,” Shinsou mused, rubbing his lips over the teeth marks in your shoulder.

Finally, Shinsou got up, pulling out of you, white semen dripping from your pussy the moment he unclogged you. Unable to keep you on your shaking legs, you slumped to the floor, hanging on barely by your arms, leaning on the tabletop still. The room was in total chaos, but once Shinsou pulled himself together and put his cock away, his only thoughts were about you. You seemed adorable yet miserable sitting in the pool of cum and your juices. If he left you like this, he didn’t want anyone to find you the following day in case you couldn’t get up and leave on your own. Besides, Shinsou was in charge of you again since you stayed with him, wasn’t he? He had to look out for you.

“Come on,” he mumbled, helping you up and back into your clothes. Closing your blouse as the buttons came to him and zipping up your skirt after pulling your panties back on, ripping the stockings off at your foot. Surprisingly, it didn’t bother him at all, caring for you. Yes, you had always been so strong and independent, it was pretty cute that you had to rely on him now. Once done, he came up, kissing you on the cheek before gathering your coats. Shaking yours out, an idea crossed his mind.

From now on, Shinsou would always be there for you.

Seeing the trashed office, he made a decision to relocate you. “You should move into the office next to mine,” he revealed, proud of this idea. It would be so much easier to be around you if you were closer to him, and he’d be able to look out for you more. Shinsou couldn’t endure the idea that you’d go back to working for your ‘friend’ after all you two had been through. But he also couldn’t trust you anymore not to do it. With him closer, it would be easier for you to only have eyes for him as well, right?

Helping you into your coat, he took your hand as he led you out of the room, turning off the light and closing the door. It was quiet between you until you stepped into the elevator, Shinsou pressing the button for the garage. When the doors closed, your lifeless stare turned into tears, your mind overcome with all that just happened.

However, Shinsou was quicker.

Pushing you into the corner of the elevator, he closed off your lips with his, you two sharing another passionate kiss while the tears dripped off your cheeks. “You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he finally muttered as he released you. Sobs erupted from your mouth, but Shinsou merely wiped away the tears from the corners of your eyes tenderly. “You’ll see, if you stick with me, everything will be alright. You and I - we’ll be unstoppable!”

Perhaps, this wouldn’t make you happy, but Shinsou sure felt good as he finally conveyed his feelings to you. He should have said it way earlier, but now the time was as good as any. “I like you, [Name],” he confessed. “Just rely on me from now on, please only give your attention to me and no one else, okay? No other hero needs you as much as I do! Promise, and then, I’ll forgive you.”

To his surprise, you didn’t need more convincing as you uttered a quiet, exhausted, “Okay,” in between your sobs. They stopped after just a few more tears dripping from your cheeks, almost as if he had used his quirk on you again. But no, this was reality, a promise made between you two without any influences. Shinsou kissed you again, tenderly this time, and it tasted like salt because of your tears, but it still was the most genuine affection he could gain from you. Maybe something inside of you clicked since you now knew it was useless going against him. Now that he had used his quirk on you, he wouldn’t hold back on doing it again if needed. So even if it was all just pretending that everything was fine and this terrible night never happened, the less you resisted, the easier it would be for you two, and the more Shinsou could pretend that it was love keeping you by his side.

And love was all that he wanted, even if he had to control it with all his might.

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Better Man.

~~~~We might still be in love, if you were a better man. ~~~~

Taehyung x OC

Rating 18 +

Angst.

Implied Infidelity in the past.

Chapter 1 ~ Walk out the first time.

"Are you okay?" My mother's soft voice came from behind me and i panicked, hurriedly swiping at the tears that were streaking down my face. Heart pounding, I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the dresser, patting my face down hurriedly , making sure to keep my back to her.

"I'm fine, Mom." I said , voice surprisingly steady as I turned around to smile weakly at her. She stood near the doorway, a petite woman of fifty with greying hair and too many wrinkles.

I thought she looked older than she was and i knew I had a part to play in that. Sighing, I tried not to cry more, moving to gently take my son out of her arms.

He was four years old, fast asleep and smiling sweetly in his slumber. He had downy black hair, feather soft and warm brown eyes. He looked incredibly like his father, the resemblance stunning even though he was so young. I stared at him some more, laying him down on the bed and brushing the hair off his face.

"Are you sure there is no mistake? Taehyung ssi wouldn't hurt us like this..." My mother said, sounding broken and I felt a pang of sympathy. But also annoyance.

Us.

Us....like she had an equal share in the hurt I was feeling.

I was the one getting a divorce but my mother made it sound like it was personal to her as well. Like somehow, the fact that she now had to meet her friends and tell them that her daughter was divorced could compare to the pain I was feeling. To the sheer anguish that was filling me.

To be fair though, my mother had loved Taehyung very much. Her favorite son-in-law . My sister's husband had been a mean drunkard who had brought a lot of misery to our family. Taehyung by contrast had been a loving, filial son in law. He had cared deeply for my parents, paid for my father's funeral ( even though the man itself was nothing more than a drunk , cheating fool who had abandoned us ) and he had been the most kind man .

I swallowed.

Maybe , you should have forgiven him. Maybe , you shouldn't have divorced him . So, he slept with another woman. Fine. It was one night... just one night. you should have gotten over it! Was it worth it to spend all these countless nights alone? To break your mother's heart a thousand times over?

The funny thing was, i had forgiven him. Maybe right after I had found out. He had stood there, looking shell-shocked and horrified and his eyes had begged me for forgiveness and my heart had cracked , the way it always did whenever I saw him in distress. And when he had looked me in the eye and said, " I’m sorry, Jang mi..." I had forgiven him right then and there.

But it was the forgetting that was hard. The fear that it would happen again. The fear that somehow, I was the reason he strayed. And that kind of fear can be debilitating. For the first three weeks, I'd tried to pretend it hadn't happened. I had tried hard to see him the way I had always seen him but it had been impossible. everytime I saw him, my heart had broken anew. It had been hard but I had to accept that things would never be the same. That I would forever look at him and remember what he’d done. That I would forever wonder if he would do it again.

So we had done the wise thing.

At first a break.

A few days apart to get our head on straight. Then I’d found a job and I had to move closer to the office to make the commute easy. And then suddenly, I wasn’t seeing him even during the weekends , to spend time as family for our son’s sake. And just like that , a whole year had passed and we were separated. Only meeting to hand Hoshi over to each other.

"I'm sorry mother." I said softly. I knew that she blamed me, a whole lot for the separation.

People with children didn't leave each other over infidelity in my country. You hit your husband, denied him from your bed maybe but you didn't break up a family over one night of bad decisions. You just didn't .

But for me, it was beyond the act. It was the broken trust, the shock of knowing that some other woman had given him something I couldn't, the fact that he had even wanted it from another woman had been enough for me to crumble on the inside.

But, none of it mattered now.

He wanted a divorce. Officially. Wanted to end it for real.

It was jarring, how badly it shook me. I felt unaccountably lost and confused and disoriented. I couldn't imagine not being Taehyung’s wife , i realized with a stunning sense of self realization.

Call me irrational, but apparently, I couldn't stop thinking of him as my husband , even after two years. Soon he wouldn't be my husband.

He would be my ex -husband.

i hated that word.

It had such a plethora of negative connotations to it. When you hear it , you just brace yourself for unpleasantness.

Because it is unpleasant. A marriage ending, a family breaking, feelings hurt , hearts shattered, angry words tossed...its all a very unpleasant experience for everyone involved.

An ex husband was seldom a harbinger of happiness, more often a reminder of choices gone wrong, regrets and wasted time. and I didn’t want to associate Taehyung with a word like that.

Taehyung who was still the kindest, warmest human being I knew. The best father in the world.

I felt like someone had sucked all the strength out of me.

I didn’t really want to think about the call I’d gotten from Taehyung last night. An appointment with a divorce lawyer. It had been followed by an apology because apparently, someone in the law firm had let the info leak. And now it was all over the sleazy tabloids that fed on people’s misery.

It was impossible to escape it too, Taehyung was famous. An idol. And actor. The country's sweetheart. And he was the epitome of perfection. The beautiful, talented actor with an impeccable record of well behavior.

I knew that literally everyone on the planet thought he was a literal angel.

I remembered how much , by contrast, I had been hated when I'd married him.

I could just imagine how much more it would all be this time around. And i wondered if it bothered Taehyung too. Did he perhaps wish he’d never met me

It had been sheer luck that we had met....

In fact, if Jimin's car hadn't broken down right outside our home on that cold December night, I wouldn't have even met Taehyung. A great cosmic shift, somewhere some butterfly flapped its wing a certain way and suddenly, Jimin’s car ran over a thumbtack and his phone was dead so while he tried to fix the damage , Taehyung just had to knock on our home and I had been the one to open it.

Boom. That was it. Love at first sight.

I had been a high school kid and he had been barely nineteen. Fresh faced and cheerful , the struggling idol from a small company. He hadn't been surrounded by fans or chased by saesangs. He hadn't had security tailing him. No daesangs, BBMAs, or acting awards. No blockbuster movies to his credit , no chart-bursting songs either .

And I had fallen in love with that version of him.

The hardworking, talented young man who worked twice as hard as anyone around him.

That's right. You've loved him for fifteen years. So it's understandable that you're upset. Now, maybe you can move on too. Go on a few of those blind dates that Jiyoung is always setting you up on. Go live your life instead of being a zombie. Get a hair cut. Dye your hair red. Do something to get your life in order.

"I still find it hard to believe that he would want a divorce. Jangmi yah... did you tell him you forgave him? Tell him you wanted to try again..." My mother said again and the distress in her voice was equal parts heartbreaking and exasperating.

"Mother, I don't want to try again . We aren't married anymore. It's over, whatever it was between us. "

Whatever it was.

How cruel, to have all that love, all that affection reduced to a phrase like that.

What a pity.

"But what about Hoshi? He needs his father..." My mother cried out and I willed myself not to snap. She means well, I thought miserably.

"He has a father. Taehyung is an excellent father and you know that. Don’t start that again.”

My mother sighed.

"I still feel that this wouldn’t happen if you tried a little bit. He’s a good boy. Such a good boy and you could never do anyone better. Why are you so full of pride, Jangmi... so prideful...you should be a little humble. Think of the kind of man he is...where would you find a man like that ? And moreover .... Taehyung loves you. i know he does." My mother said stubbornly.

I sighed, feeling my fingers shake from the effort not to scream. I wasn’t strong enough to have this conversation with her. Not now. Possibly never. Taehyung did love me. Had never made any effort to hide it. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t.

And I wanted to yell at my mother she was at least partially to blame for me walking out on Taehyung.

My father had left us for another woman , when I was twelve. I had seen the toll it had taken on my mother and I just knew that I would never let a man do that to me. My mother had later confided in me that it wasn’t the first time. He had done it before. A lot of times. And my mother had always forgiven him. Let him back into our lives.

And one night, drunk on soju she had confided between hiccups, ‘ I wish I’d walked out the first time.”

And that had stuck with me.

Walk out the first time.

If he cheats on you , walk out the first time. Don’t stick around waiting for him to do it to you again. Walk out the first time.

And so I had.

“ Should I talk to him? Tell him you’ve changed your mind? “ My mother began and I felt my patience snap.

“No!! Could you just, for the love of God, stay out of this, ma? It’s over. Our marriage is over and it has been over for a long time. A piece of paper doesn’t really change that, does it? Its not my fault you can’t get over it but that’s a you problem. And you need to fix it yourself. “ I shouted.

My mother immediately recoiled, eyes shuttering down.

“Of course. You know the best. Who cares how anyone else feels, right, Jang Mi? You always know best.” She said softly, and I exhaled, shaken. There it was. The guilt trip. It was never ending.

Please... I just need to go now.” I moved to grab my bag, :” I need to go get ready for the meeting with the lawyers tomorrow. You can keep Hoshi with you tonight. I’ll come pick him up after I’m done and then I’ll drop him off at his father’s place.”

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

With Taehyung and I, our break up hadn’t been terrible.

It hadn’t been terrible because our own penchant for being terrible had always been very minimal. We didn’t do swearing or fights or threats and it always annoyed our friends that we got along so well. That it was so easy for us to forgive and move on with each other . That we were the one couple who didn’t hold grudges or bring up past mistakes.

Which is why, when we did break up, none of our friends had tried to change our minds over it. They had accepted it rather calmly, shocked at first because it was so out of the blue but not opposed to the idea itself . They just trusted us to know the right thing to do because we were easily the most mature , the most level headed couple in the entire group. We were usually the sounding boards , the voice of reason in whatever petty conflict our friends were involved in .

So when it was us, needling a little advice, a little guidance, our friends had been woefully ill equipped to help. They had merely hummed and nodded and empathized. Maybe that was another reason I’d left. I hadn’t considered the alternative. No one had asked me to consider the alternative.

Our friends had watched us drift apart watched us break up, but they hadn’t really asked us why.

Because if something had caused Kim Taehyung and Jang Mi to break up, man, that must’ve been a really huge issue.

So the break up had been amicable. Gradual and slow but mostly amicable, eased by our mutual love for our son. We wanted him happy and he was happy when we were happy. So we put on a front, laughed and joked in front of him and let him have some semblance of normalcy in his life.

It wasn’t easy.

From him, it had been nothing but a mess of heated glances, touches laced with intent and eyes begging forgiveness . every gaze of his was a silent scream for a second chance that I was not at all ready to give.

Because for me, the raw hurt and anger and frustration that bubbled up every time I saw him , it had nowhere to go. It stayed churning in my gut, made everything bitter and unpalatable and I wanted to hurt him for hurting me. How could I think of a second chance when the hurt from the first, was still so fresh, an open wound festering.

Self esteem in tatters, I had hated him fiercely.

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

The meeting was at his company, and I arrived at nine in the morning, with a few more minutes to spare. I knew the place like the back of my hand, was here at least once a week either to pick or drop Hoshi off and I knew that the conference room in the third floor was sound proof and cut off from the rest of the building for extra privacy.

Which was a little too late because I’d found two tabloid newspapers waiting outside my apartment this morning.

I opened the door carefully, surprised to see Taehyung sitting in one of the chairs, bent over a sheaf of paper on the table and next to him a leggy girl in a small skirt hovered, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder, bent at the optimum angle to show him her curves.

I sighed, looking away.

It was way too early for this.

“Mia!” Taehyung’s voice made me look up, and I watched as he stood up, pushing the chair away and moving to me . He was easily the most good looking man in the country. And he looked so good at thirty five that it was impossible to look away from him.

He was dressed in a pale blue shirt and black slacks and it never amazed me, how good clothes fit him.

I took in the broad shoulders, thick arms and the lean waist, the carefully styled hair and the breathtakingly beautiful face and sighed when he kept coming closer, hands held out. .

Of course, the customary hug.

i let him wrap his arms around me, my face buried in the comforting warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne filling my brain . He always smelled so good it made my heart hurt. I tried not to let myself get carried away. Tried to remind myself that this wasn’t anything more than a.....

A facade ? Or was it? Was his affection genuine?

Was I just too cynical?

I shook my head, pulling away and smiling a little at the genuine venom in the leggy girl’s face.

“Are you okay? Where’s Hoshi?” Taehyung brushed the hair off my face, eyes warm and I wondered if he’d forgotten we were here to get a divorce.

Whenever we met, Taehyung acted like we were still together.

No, that wasn’t it.

He just didn’t act like we had broken up. He was affectionate and open and cooperative. It always left me in a sort of limbo, unable to navigate our relationship with clear boundaries. There were no line to stop myself from crossing, because he just didn’t draw them.

“ Ms. Lee says we just have to go over the details like the alimony and the custody and the division of assets and then we can just proceed. Get it all finalized. “ He said casually, when I moved away and sat on the chair opposite him.

“Okay .” I said casually.

He smiled and turned back to the girl next to him.

“I’ll join you after the meeting Lisa.” he gave her a nice wide smile and the girl practically bloomed under the attention before bowing curtly in my direction. I watched her walk away, slightly amused.

“Bit younger than your usual type.” I commented , glancing at him. He gave me a look.

“I’m not dating her.” He shrugged.

“Does she know that?” I retorted.

It was dumb. Uncalled for. I was being a bitch, really but the urge to evoke some kind of reaction from Taehyung was something I’d never really out grown. I liked getting under his skin.

Taehyung sighed and gave me a little smirk.

“Are you jealous, Mia mine?” He teased.

It felt a little like someone had dug a nine inch dagger straight into my heart.

That stupid nickname.

God I couldn’t bear it.

Swallowing i looked away.

“Sorry. “ he said quietly, a few seconds later.

I nodded curtly.

“Don’t do it again.” I said hoarsely.

“Why not?” He whispered gently.

I groaned.

“Taehyung... “

“it’s just a name...why does it bother you so much?” He whispered.

“The same reason you’re asking me for a divorce.” I said softly.

He blinked.

“Mia...”

“Because we both know its time to stop.” I said quietly. “ Stop dancing around each other , stop doing...whatever it is we’ve been doing these past two years and give our relationship a name. “

“I’m not very fond of labels.” He shrugged. I glared at him.

“Well tough luck. Labels are good. Labels are great. They let you draw boundaries. “ I retorted.

“You sound like you’ve had enough of me.”

“Well, haven’t you had enough of me?” I snapped.

“Not even close.” He leaned forward gently, eyes pinning me to the table with a gaze so strong he may as well have used his body. And it didn’t help that two years wasn’t enough time to forget how it would feel if he had used his body. How it would feel to be stretched out on that table, him on top of me, hands working my clothes open, lips kissing their way down my jaw.

I could almost taste him, taste the minty freshness of his breath, feel his tongue in my mouth, the hardness of him inside me. My thighs clenched because I hadn’t gotten laid in two fucking years and even if i did, no one would ever compare to the man in front of me.

“Mr. Kim? Mrs. Kim? “

The lawyer’s voice broke the spell and i straightened, swallowing. Ms. Lee had walked in , and I watched her close the conference door behind her before locking it gently.

She was young, dressed in a business suit , a no nonsense bun and had small round framed glasses. She gave me a nice smile, shook hands with us both and placed her briefcase on the table before glancing between us.

“Shall we begin?”

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

Author’s Note : its gonna be a bumpy ride.

#taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fics #bts fics #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic

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your-daily-biaswrecking · 3 years

Note

I recently discovered your blog and I thought I could make a request since they're open🥰🥰🥰

I'd love to see a scenario where Jin has a s/o who is not ready to have sex yes but she feels guilty for that

In the bathroom at the house party, were you and Jin, making out. His lips full and soft, fitting between yours nicely. The best kisser you had ever met. And the pleasure almost made you cave and do more, until you felt his hands move to your pants and you squirmed away.

"Sorry, I–" you mumbled, and Jin was pulling back immediately, fearing he had done something wrong. Your whole face was burning and you looked down. You really didn't want to say no to him, didn't want to miss your opportunity to be with him. But was this really the right way and moment? Losing your virginity hastily in a bathroom of someone else's house? "Can we... not do this?" you whispered hesitantly, biting your lip.

Jin pulled his hands instantly off you. "Oh, yeah, of course! Sorry!"

And you felt bad for making him think you didn't want him. "No, it's just that– sorry, just not right now. Not here."

But he was shaking his head frantically, hands on your arms to stroke you reassuringly. "No, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry, like... Where are my manners? I should have at least bought you dinner first." His tone was light and he smiled at you, making you relax and feel more comfortable in the situation. You liked his reaction, liked that he wasn't making you feel at all like you were irrational for it; it wasn't something you could say for lots of men. Jin bowed his head, scratching his ear and looking at you through his lashes. "So... Can I buy you dinner?"

"Oh..." Was he asking you on a date? You honestly didn't think you'd ever get that from someone like him, the fact that you were drunkenly making out in this bathroom was already more than you could ever wish for. "Sure... I'd like that..." you breathed.

And Jin came closer, hands on your hips again yet a lot more softly this time. "Can I... Continue kissing you?"

And you nodded lightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd love that."

Kissing him was more than enough for you. He kept his promise and took you out to dinner, and the movies, and for drinks, and shopping... It wasn't even two weeks of you going out and he introduced you to his friends. As his girlfriend. You were under the misconception that in order to get in a relationship at your age you had to have sex first. But Jin proved you wrong. You were his girlfriend because he liked you and he liked spending time with you. And he liked kissing you. When you confessed that you were a virgin to him, he had a "so that's why" moment but didn't say anything else about it. He only just kissed you. Always.

You kept thinking about that, though. About how he certainly had needs that couldn't be satisfied with just making out with you. Even though he didn't ever show anything like that, you knew. What if he broke up with you because he couldn't wait any longer? Should you just give in? You didn't feel ready yet and you didn't want to do something you would regret later. Jin made you feel good, emotionally and physically, and in moments such as when you were sitting on his lap and devouring each other in front of a TV show long forgotten, you felt that punch of guilt for not being able to take it further. His hands pulling your hips closer until you could feel how hard he was underneath you, moans caught in his throat that were begging for more. Hard for you. Hard because he wanted to fuck you. And you knew you would just end up leaving him with nothing and he would have to take care of it by himself yet again. There must be a limit to how many times he can do this.

"Jin," you breathed, pulling away. His eyes were foggy, hard to focus on yours, lips red and swollen from all the biting. He looked so hot. Almost needy as he waited for your words. And you sighed with a whine. "I'm so sorry."

"What for?" he asked quickly.

You dropped your head on his shoulder, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "I'm– I'm sorry that I can't..." Sorry that you can't help him with the erection he had pressing on your crotch.

"Can't what?" His hand stroked your hair, trying to get you to pull back so that he could look at you. "Baby, I didn't ask you to do anything."

"I know..." He didn't ask but you knew he wanted to. You squirmed a bit when he moved, still trying to look at you, yet he ended up pressing on you harder. And perhaps it was what tipped him off as to what was going on.

"What, baby, you think just 'cause I'm hard I want to have sex?" He chuckled. And the reaction wasn't what you expected, so you pulled away until you could look at him with a pout.

"Don't you?"

Jin opened his mouth and then bit his lip, scrunching his nose as he thought of how to reply. "It means you make me feel good. Baby, guys get hard all the time. I get hard every time you send me a selfie. I get hard every time you call me telling me you're coming over. It's excitement. It's not a sign that I have to have sex immediately."

His words made you relax a bit, just like always, yet caused you to feel a different kind of uncomfortable too; hot from the inside. Did he really like you so much he got hard just at the thought of you? You squirmed around in his lap. "Are you sure?" you mumbled, chewing on your lip. "It doesn't hurt?"

Jin laughed. "Why would it hurt? When you kiss me all I feel is euphoria." And he leaned in to peck your lips once more. You got even closer, his hard-on still pressing on you but not making you feel guilty anymore. You kind of liked it now. And you kissed him deeply again. "You know I'll wait for you as long as you want, baby," he whispered between your lips. "Just don't stop kissing me."

Masterlist

#bts #bangtan #kim seokjin #request #seokjin #jin #drabble #fluff #jin fluff #jin drabble #bts drabble #bts fluff #jin x reader #jin x you #seokjin x you #seokjin x reader

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pan-fangirl-345 · 3 years

Text

Together Sounds Pretty Good

Summary: Tooru's been acting weird, and you fear the worst, but everything changes when he takes up a mic after a winning game.

TW: mentioned abusive relationships, suspected cheating (there's no actual cheating, I hate that and don't write for it), doubts, fluff overload, marriage proposal (is that a warning?)

A/N: This has been in my drafts for nearly a month and I can't believe it's taken me this long to finish the damn thing. A few of the prompts on the prompt list I just posted were inspired by this, so good job brain! Anyway, I'll get back to requests after this one, I promise!

Tooru was acting weird.

You had noticed it for a while, but you weren't sure how to help.

So you went to the only other person who knew him better than you did: Iwaizumi.

"He's acting super weird," you said, lounging on the terrace of your apartment, knees pulled up to your chest in your chair, taking in the city lights. "He's disappearing for hours at a time when he would normally be resting at home, he comes home smelling like cheap perfume, I mean like, thirty dollars too cheap, and he does that thing with his face, that thing when he lies, the weird little eyebrow twitch lip lick thing."

"I know the thing (Y/F/N)," Iwaizumi said, and there was some shuffling in the background.

"Sorry, I know I called at a weird time, are you busy?" you asked, guilt flooding through your system.

"Nah, I'm just finishing up some paperwork," Iwaizumi said.

"Are you sure? 'Cause I can call you back later if-"

"(Y/F/N), just keep talking, it's fine," Iwaizumi told you.

"Like I was saying, he's acting weird! And I want to think the best of him, but . . . I'm worried. He's been distant lately, like when we were in high school and Meiko wanted him back. He has that look, you know? And he isn't talking to me anymore Hajime."

"(Y/F/N), I'm sure it's fine," Hajime replied. "You guys have been together for seven years, I doubt he's going to be all teen angst about breaking up with you."

"So you do think he's breaking up with me?" you asked, sounding slightly panicked.

"Fuck, wrong word choice," he muttered to himself. "That's not what I meant. I meant that he's acting like a teenager about to break up with his girlfriend, but you guys are practically married, he wouldn't be acting like that if he wanted to end things. And trust me, he doesn't want to end things with you."

"Are you sure? I mean, seven years is a long time to be with someone, isn't it? What if he's finally gotten bored with me? It's happened with people who have been together for seven times as long as we have, what's stopping him? And he has so many other options! Prettier, richer, and far less insecure. God, I really am pathetic aren't I?" you asked, tearing a hand through your hair.

"Have you been checking your social media comments again?" Iwaizumi asked.

"Is it that obvious?" you replied.

"(Y/F/N), Oikawa is never going to be able to look at anyone other than you, no matter what those posers say in your comments, alright? Trust me, I've had to listen to his pining for years, and he loves you more than anything else in the world, even the game."

"That's crazy," you told him. "And I wouldn't go that far-"

"I would. Believe me, that man would never think about even looking at another woman that way, let alone actually cheating on you. I'm sure that he's just having one of his mood swings."

"Thank you Hajime, I needed to hear that," you said.

"I know," he replied. "Look, trust me (Y/F/N), Tooru is not looking at anyone other than you, and he hasn't since our third year of high school."

"I know, and I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you with this," you muttered. "I'm acting like Meiko."

"Stop comparing yourself to her, she's psychotic," Hajime grumbled. "(Y/F/N), you are nothing like her. Why does she bother you so much?"

"I don't know, probably because she broke his heart in so many ways. Because she's prettier, richer, she's pretty much society's definition of perfect. Because he loved her, and because she was a lot of his firsts that I wasn't able to be. I guess that I just wonder sometimes, why he chose me when he could've had her."

"Like I said, she's psychotic," Iwaizumi said, "and Oikawa knows that, and he would have to be an idiot to give you up, which he won't."

"I know, I just needed to spill that to someone."

A jiggling of keys made you turn as Tooru stepped through the door of your apartment.

"He's back, I'll talk to you later Hajime, and thanks," you said, tossing your phone to the side. "Tooru!"

"Hey angel," he murmured, tossing his keys to the side, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"How was practice?"

"Long," he muttered, dropping his head to your shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do to make it better?" you asked softly.

You didn't want to bother him, and there was something in his posture that told you that you would if you pushed too hard.

"Can I just hold you?" he inquired.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck as he nuzzled into your neck, arms around your waist.

After a few minutes you said, "You know that you can talk to me, right? About anything?"

He nodded, barely moving.

He was dead on his feet, but you knew that he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Come on, let's get you into bed," you murmured, tugging him softly into your room. "I'll have dinner ready shortly, and you can eat whenever you wake up wanting it, okay?"

He nodded, shucking his t-shirt off, throwing it into the hamper.

Your talk with Iwaizumi had calmed some of you nerves, and in the end you knew that it was irrational to be thinking the way that you were, but you couldn't help it.

Tooru had never given you any signs that he was losing interest in you, that he was unhappy, but sometimes people only saw what they wanted to see.

You were running on mostly autopilot as you made dinner, it was something you had made a thousand times when Tooru was upset, because it reminded him of something happy, but you had never known what.

You knocked quietly on the bedroom door, sticking your head in slightly.

Tooru was already asleep, just like you thought he would be, and you stepped back into the kitchen, wrapping everything for later, putting it in the fridge.

Your scribbled a small note, sticking it to the top of the container, then writing another one that you stuck to the counter, shutting the fridge door quietly.

You sighed, grabbing your work computer and your paperwork, heading for the terrace again as the sun started to set.

You loved being able to work from home, you loved being there for Tooru when he needed you, but you sometimes wondered if it was always going to be like this.

You breathed in deeply, then set to work.

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

Tooru woke up to an empty bed, the sheets cold and clearly unused.

He frowned, glancing around the room.

Tooru glanced at the clock, frown deepening.

It was one in the morning, where the hell was she?

Tooru rubbed the sleep from his eyes, standing with a stretch.

"(Y/F/N)?" Tooru called, panic swelling in his chest when she wasn't in the living room, or the kitchen.

A small note told him that she had put dinner in the fridge and that she loved him.

After turning all the lights on in the apartment, Tooru heard shifting from the terrace.

The temperature dropped at night, but she knew that, so there she was, curled up on the lounge chair, covered with a blanket, a pillow behind her head.

"(Y/F/N), hey, come on angel," Tooru murmured, shaking her shoulder lightly. "Babe, you can't sleep out here."

She mumbled something, rolling away from him, taking the blanket with her.

"Hey, don't do that," he muttered, shaking her shoulder a little more forcefully.

"Wh- Tooru? Whatimezit?" she asked. "Did . . . did I fall asleep on the terrace?"

"Yeah, come on, come on inside angel," he said, giving her a small smile.

"It's fine," she mumbled, swatting away his hands. "I'm fine out here."

"Angel," he said, exasperated. "Come on, we both need the sleep. Come inside. Please?"

"Fine," she relented, stumbling to her feet.

She gathered up her work things, then deposited them at her desk.

She moved to sit down at her desk, but Tooru wrapped his arms around her waist, scooping her up in the process.

"Tooru!" she shrieked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I don't sleep well without you, remember?" he asked, kissing her cheek softly.

"You seemed okay earlier," she retorted.

"Notice it's one in the morning and I'm wide awake?" he teased.

"Tooru, I really should get back to work," she said, glancing around nervously.

"(Y/F/N), is everything okay?" he asked, setting them both down on the bed gently, laying in between her legs, laying his head on her stomach.

She threaded her fingers through his hair absentmindedly, practically making Tooru purr.

"I just miss you is all," she whispered, but Tooru knew it was more than that. "I feel like we haven't seen much of each other lately is all."

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I promise that when the season is over we'll go somewhere."

Hopefully the ring he had been designing at the jewelry store would ensure that they go somewhere, he knew that she was starting to get suspicious about where he was going after practice every day.

"No, Tooru, that's not what I meant," she said quickly. "We really don't need to go on vacation or anything! I just mean that I feel like you're further and further away from me, you know?"

"Angel, I'm sorry, I never wanted to make you feel like that," he told her. "I've been busy."

"I know, and I would never try to take the game away from you," she said vehemently. "I won't be like her, but . . . if you ever feel like I'm too much, you can walk away."

"Baby, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I just mean that . . . I know a lot of the guys on your team don't date, for their various reasons, so I was just saying that if you ever felt like I don't understand then-"

"Stop that," Tooru demanded, pushing himself up. "Stop acting like you're a burden. Stop comparing yourself to Meiko."

"I'm sorry, I just . . . I can't help it."

"Darling, I love you, more than anything," Tooru declared. "I gave up on Meiko after we started dating. She was psychotic, and I don't understand how I didn't see it earlier, but you are nothing like her. Do you understand me? I want you. I want you with all your weird little things, like your routine to get into your jeans."

"It's really not that weird," she began but Tooru stepped in again.

"Baby, you are beautiful, and kind, and you always know when I need a hug, or a cute text of some stray cat or dog you see on the way the office. I love you, more than anything."

"Anything?"

"Hajime said that he thought you loved me more than the game," she said, and it was almost so quiet that Tooru didn't hear her. "I told him that it was crazy."

"Why were you talking to Iwa-chan?"

"I just wanted to check in with him, we haven't seen him in a while and I wanted to make sure that he was okay."

Tooru had long since accepted that you and Hajime were practically brother and sister, but in high school he had been so jealous that Hajime had seemed to make you more comfortable than him.

"Angel, if anything ever happened to you, I would drop the game in an instant," he said.

"Please don't," she begged. "I know how much the game means to you and-"

"And nothing," he told her, taking her hands in his. "(Y/F/N), I love the game, it's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, but in the end, you will always be more important, because you won't always be here, the game will. If you got hurt, I would be with you, every step of the way."

"Tooru, really, if I ever get hurt, please don't drop the game," she insisted. "I would feel really terrible if I knew that you were with me instead of playing."

"You're missing the point," Tooru said, chuckling. "Angel, I'm saying that the game isn't everything to me. I love you too."

"I know that," she replied. "And I don't forget," she added when he opened his mouth, "I just . . . sometimes, even after seven years, it's still kind of hard for me to believe."

"Guess I just have to stick around to remind you," Tooru said, kissing her forehead.

"Dork," she muttered, cheeks tinted pink.

"Your dork," he retorted.

"Go to sleep Tooru," she told him. "I promise I'll be here when you wake up."

Tooru wrapped his arms around her waist, tangled his legs with her, buried his face in her hair, and slept better than he had in weeks.

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

Tooru, after that night, was clingier than usual. When he got home every night he was stuck to your side, pressing kisses anywhere he could reach.

He had started leaving notes when he was home and you had to make a trip to the office.

He texted you constantly, and you were surprised that the coach didn't confiscate his phone.

Even as games started, the constant reassurance was continuous, and you were surprised by his determination to make sure that he didn't make you feel pushed away again.

You had contacted Hajime about it again, but he had done a good job at reassuring you that everything was fine.

You went to every one of Tooru's games, and had even given a few interviews, some with him and some without.

He tried to keep you out of the press as much as possible, but sometimes you had to feed the vultures a little bit to appease them for a while.

Today was a day when he had decided you were going to ride with him to the stadium to appease the vultures.

As always, the press was on him as soon as he stepped out of the car, but you were a nice addition for them.

Tooru kept a firm arm around your waist, leading you through the urchins with ease, kissing your forehead before he headed into the locker rooms.

You headed for the stands, waving at Tooru's teammates as you took your seat.

The game was long, and there were times where it had you on the edge of your seat, but Tooru's team won, and you were cheering yourself hoarse from your spot, smiling down at Tooru.

Suddenly his team manager brought a mic out, and Tooru tapped it a few times to make sure that it was working.

"(Y/F/N), where are you angel?" Tooru asked, eyes scanning the crowd for you.

"Tooru, what the hell are you doing?" you asked, leaning over the railing so he could hear you.

"Come on down here, I want to talk to you about something."

"You can't do that with me up here?" you asked.

"Just go along with me on this. Please?" he asked.

"I can't say no to that face," you told him, laughing. "Give me a minute."

You headed for the gym, walking over to him.

He wrapped and arm around you and kissed you softly, making people 'aww' from the stands.

He pulled away and you noticed that pictures were starting to play on one of the TV's that were replaying the game.

The were pictures of you and Tooru in high school, when your hair was longer and you had those awful bangs. There were pictures that you had taken on dates, pictures your friends and his had taken, silly photos that you guys had taken on a dare during a team get together.

They showed the progression of your relationship, and you recognized all of them.

"(Y/F/N), when I met you, I was crying my eyes out in the library after Meiko broke up with me. You barely knew me, which I still find appalling to this day, because how did you not know the name of the hot setter for your school's volleyball team? You barely knew me but you still sat next to me and asked me if I wanted to talk about it."

Everyone was paying attention now, and the media was capturing it all on camera.

"After that, you kept popping up everywhere. You were Kyouken's math tutor, and his reading buddy. You and Kunimi traded gossip whenever you had the opportunity, and you had helped Kindaichi get out of an awkward situation with some of the girls in his grade. Everyone seemed to have had some sort of contact with you before, and yet I had never seen you before that day."

"Come on Tooru, you were too busy with your fangirls, I was a face in the background, I can't fault you for that. I wasn't directly in your face ever five minutes," you teased.

You had no idea what he was doing. The reassurance you understood, but there was something about the way he was talking that made you pause and think. And then there was the intimacy of the pictures.

"Anyway," he said, making you laugh, "I started to notice you more and more after that, and then suddenly you were always around. You were dropping of notes for Kyoutani to use, books for him to read, you were reminding Hajime about tests and to take care of himself when he was too busy worry about the rest of us, or making sure that Kindaichi wasn't being a pushover."

"That kid was afraid of his own shadow!" you argued. "I couldn't leave him by himself."

"You were always checking in on me, and for once, there was a girl that wasn't interested in the fact that I was blatantly flirting with her."

"You were like that with every girl! How was I supposed to know that you were interested in me?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

"When I asked you out, and you showed up in that cute dress with the polka dots and asked me if there was anything I needed while we were out, I knew right then that you were the only one I wanted. I remember that really dumb argument we had about whether you could come to my games. I was worried you wouldn't want to go, and you were worried that I didn't want you there."

"You kept telling me not to come! What was I supposed to think?"

"I know, and I remember when you showed up in my spare jersey because Mattsun and Makki decided they were tired of me complaining about it in the locker room."

You couldn't help but giggle at the memory.

"When we graduated, I remember how you thought that I was breaking up with you. I remember how I found you at your house sobbing because I was going to the same college as Meiko and you thought that meant that I was getting back together with her.

"I remember how you had tried to assure me that it was fine, that you were okay with it, that you had been expecting it, that you were fine. I remember realizing right then and there that I wanted to be with you for the rest of our lives."

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized what he was doing.

"Tooru, is this what I think it is?"

"I know that I've been acting really suspicious lately, and I know you thought that there was someone else, I talked with Hajime about what I should do. I don't blame you, I know that I was acting really sketchy, and I would've thought the same thing, but I promise, there's only you."

He sank down to one knee and there was a collective gasp as everyone realized what he was doing.

"(Y/N), I love you with everything that I am, and I know that we've taken every step that led up to this, and I know that you still have doubts because of all those posers on your social media who think that you're a bad person when I know that you are one of the kindest people I have ever met. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you'll let me.

"(Y/N), I've asked your father and gotten his permission, and I've gotten your mother's blessing. All of our friends are behind us on this, 100%. The only person I have left to ask is you. So, (Y/F/N), will you marry me?"

Tears streamed down your face as you nodded, hands over your mouth.

"Yes," you whispered, then said it louder, "yes!"

He stood up faster than you had ever seen him move, and he scooped you up as you hugged him.

He laughed, burying his face in your neck.

Tooru's team and the entirety of the stands erupted into cheers, and you couldn't keep the smile off you face.

"Is this why you were sneaking around?" you asked.

He nodded, pressing kisses all over your face.

"I was having the ring designed, and I was calling people."

"When did you talk to my parents about this?" you asked.

You couldn't believe it, all of this just so he could ask you to marry him. And there was always the possibility that you said no, and he had done it anyway.

"The last time we flew up to visit," he admitted.

"Tooru, that was seven months ago!" you cried, staring at him in shock.

"I told you, I've known for a long time that you were the only one I want."

"You're a dork," you murmured, kissing him softly.

He grinned, nipping your bottom lip playfully.

"You love me," he said.

"I am going to marry you," you pointed out, making him laugh.

"Come on, let's go home," he said. "We're going to be getting a lot of calls, this was a national broadcast."

"Agreed," you replied, smiling at him. "We also have to appease the vultures."

"I might have made a mistake making it this public," he muttered, glancing at the long line of press people vying for your attention.

"Ya think?" you giggled. "It's okay," you murmured as he slipped the ring on your finger. "We'll deal with it together."

"Together, huh?"

"Yeah, you and me, together," you told him, lacing your hands together as you made your way over to the press mob.

Together sounded pretty good.

#tooru oikawa x reader #toru oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru x reader #toru x reader #haikyuu #marriage proposal #where do these things come from?#what was I thinking?

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randomrosewrites · 4 years

Text

Stay with me

Hawks x reader comfort for an anxiety/ panic attack.

a/n: My anxiety’s been really bad this week and so I wrote this to help calm myself down. It really helped me, and I figured I might as well post it.

Tags and Warnings: Depictions of Anxiety and Panic attacks, disassociation/ depersonalization, hurt/comfort, Keigo is a big softie

You feel like you're dying.

Your stomach hurts. Your heartbeat is abnormal. A cold sweat has broken out over your forehead and the room feels too bright.

You're not even aware of what's really going on. You're out. Somewhere for something. And after a bad series of events, you feel like your lungs are closing in on you.

You want to pace back and forth, wring out your hands. To scream, or bite into your skin. Because anything is better than just saying here.

You should have done something different. If you did, you could have prevented this. Your mind runs itself in circles as fear takes over. If you don’t get away soon - if you don’t get rid of this feeling - you feel like you’re going to die.

But where do you go? Home? The walls that shelter you won't do anything to comfort the spreading ball of anxiety welling in your stomach.

No, you don’t need a location, you need a person.

You excuse yourself and on shaky legs, exit into a quiet, deserted area.

With trembling fingers, you open your phone and press the button to call. The phone dials and begins ringing. You hold it to your ear with one hand and cross the other one over your chest.

Ring

You pace back and forth. It's a long shot, but you really need him to pick up.

Ring

You even feel bad about doing this - you know how busy he is with being a Hero - and surely you’ll feel guilty about it later. But he has to pick up, he has to.

Ring

You don't know what you're going to do if he doesn't pick up. You don't know what you're going to do-

“Hey, babe,” Hawks’ voice warmly crackles over the phone - he must be in the air. "How are you doing?"

You almost sob right there. He picked up. "Not good," you croak. "Really not good."

There's a pause. When he speaks again concern laces his voice. "What's wrong?”

"Can you come pick me up, please? I really need you, Hawks.

"Shit ok-" there's some interference. "I'll be right there. Are you hurt?"

"N-no. I'm fine." At least physically, you’re ok.

"Ok. Good. You just stay there, alright? I'll be there soon."

"W-wait," you blurt. "Please don't hang up."

"I'm not. I won't," He reassures you. "I'm not going anywhere."

He gets to where you are at record speed, only hanging up the phone once you're in his arms, face buried in the wool of his jacket.

You inhale deeply, pressing so tightly to him you want to mold with him. He smells fresh. Like the wind and fresh laundry.

He’s saying something to you, but you can’t hear him over the whine in your ears. You want to talk to him, but words die in your throat. Your mind is blank, tongue thick in your mouth and you don’t feel like you’re present.

"Hey, hey," Hawks gives you a small squeeze, pulling you back down to the present. "Deep breaths...I'm here with you..."

"Hawks," you beg, clenching the fabric of his coat between your fingers. Your head is spinning and you squeeze your eyes shut. "I'm scared."

He cradles your head in his chest, wings wrapping around the two of you protectively. They block out the sound and light from the world. "I know it's alright, just breathe for me. Here - inhale when I do, ok?"

You breathe with him, feeling up the soft fluff of his coat. It's both comforting and grounding, tethering your hands when the rest of you feels like it could float away like a balloon.

"I feel sick. I feel like I'm dying. I don't want to die. I can't die." You ramble.

"You're not." He promises.

"But what if-"

"If's, love." He kisses the top of your head, and the pressure helps to settle the storm brewing inside of you. "That's not the rational part of your brain talking."

Rational. Yes, you remember. Anxiety in small amounts isn't bad. It's a great survival trait, actually, but in too large amounts it becomes a hindrance.

Determine what's rational. Determine what's irrational. Separate the false from fact. Take away the fear from the thought and situation.

...it’s easier said than done.

"Why can't I do anything fucking right. Why can't I be normal-" you choke on your own words, tears springing from your eyes. Your stomach churns and the threat of being pushed into the inky black pit of terror re-appears.

"Easy," Hawks coos, rubbing your back. "I've got you."

You cling to his front, sometimes crying, other times just resting your forehead against his shoulder. Hawks holds you like that, reminding you to breathe and to let it go.

Slowly, the whine in your ear leaves, your pulse returns to normal, and

When you're done you feel gross, exhausted, and your eyes hurt. There's still a small amount of anxiety bubbling in your stomach, but it's only a small trickle as opposed to the overwhelming ocean wave earlier.

"Tell me how I can help." He murmurs, into the top of your head.

"Stay with me. Please. Just a bit longer."

And he does.

#bnha #hawks #keigo takami #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #hawks x self insert #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x you #keigo takami x reader #hawks imagine #hawks fic #x reader #bnha x reader #what is it with me and always posting my writing at midnight

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gureishi · 4 years

Note

A #14 with Saeyoung. I love your fics ❤️ Thank you

Thank YOU, dear! ♡

Writing this one was cathartic af. I don’t often write them fighting, because I don’t think they fight much—but the prompt was begging for it and I think a lot about the unexpected ways they find themselves grappling with their trauma.

fourteen: hurts like hell to be torn apart

SaeyoungXReader, T (referenced violence, angst with a happy ending), words: 2912

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Bang.

The sound reverberates off the cobblestones and the colorful storefronts. It’s as loud and dark as the street is cheerful and bright. You feel it in your bones.

And for some reason that you have neither the time nor the emotional capacity to explain, you take off running. Away from the blue-and-white awnings of the little farmers market. Around a corner. Down the alley. Toward the sound.

I know someone’s been shot, says your brain, and you don’t notice the general absence of panic in the crowd—don’t register that no one is yelling, no one else is running. Your sandals slap against the pavement, hard. Your blood rushes in your ears and your heart is in your mouth.

I have to find them, or else… Your vision blurs, your thoughts scramble. Or else.

You’re halfway down the alley, running straight into the setting sun, and you still can’t make out what’s happening at the end of the narrow, dark, trash can-lined street. You squint, expecting at any moment to see a body on the ground, blood pooling on the uneven concrete…

…and your line of sight is cut off as you run face-first into something firm and warm. Someone. You let out a muffled cry and try to pull away, but there are hands gripping your arms and you find you can’t move.

“What do you think you’re doing?” hisses a familiar voice, and although his scent hits you then, and you know you should feel safe, you continue to struggle—hands balled into fists, striking his chest.

“Let me go!” you yell, raising a hand to shove him. His long fingers wrap around your fist. “I have to…” you gasp.

“Nope,” he says. He wraps his strong arms around you and you give in, slumping against him. There’s literally no way out now—you know him too well. How did he catch up to you, how did he cut you off…? He’s not even out of breath.

“Saeyoung…”

“Look.” He’s still got you in his firm grip, but he lifts one arm so you can see through the triangle it makes with his torso. Now that you’ve stopped your insane sprint, you can see more clearly. The end of the alley is…empty.

Your throat feels raw. You realize that at some point you’ve started to cry.

“It was a car backfiring,” he says stiffly.

“A car…”

Rationally, you understand: why the sound was too quiet, why nobody else took off running. Why there’s no body slowly growing cold at the end of the alley. But you can’t quite think rationally. Your heart is pounding so hard you feel like you might throw up.

Saeyoung spins you around and half-drags you down the alley, back the way you came. You know you should feel relieved—comforted by his arm around you, thrilled that your instincts were wrong. But his grip on your shoulder is bruising and you feel yourself wriggling, trying to turn around, trying to check the imagined crime scene just one more time.

You turn a corner, back to the shopping center. Here, nothing has changed. There’s the same group of kids in brightly-colored outfits lounging on the steps to the ice cream place. There’s the same harried-looking mother struggling to get her three toddlers in a stroller. There are couples walking hand-in-hand and friends calling to each other over the crowd.

Why, you think, a bitter taste in your mouth, was I the only one who ran?

The dissonance between the cheery atmosphere and the way you are feeling makes your head spin. You sneak a glance at Saeyoung’s face—he has a frozen expression, unmoving, like a statue. His grip on your arm is growing painful.

“Saeyoung,” you say, forcing your voice into a semblance of evenness. “Will you please let go of me now?”

He jumps almost as if he’s forgotten where he is. He drops his arm and it swings aimlessly at his side. He’s not looking at you.

“Let’s go home,” he says at last, and his voice takes you by surprise. His expression is carefully arranged, stoic, but he sounds like he’s ready to hit someone. He takes off walking—away from the pleasant shopping center, down a quieter street, toward the garage. You don’t follow.

He feels your absence, pauses, turns. The sinking sun sets his hair ablaze. Beautiful, you think—if not for the hard look on his face.

He looks, to you, like he’s powering down, turning himself off. There’s no light in his eyes. On some deeply-buried logical level you know that he’s feeling the same echoes of the past that you are, riding the same wave of terror and remembrance. But you feel anger bubbling under your skin and you want to shake him and scream don’t look at me like that in his face.

He spins around and stalks toward the garage. You follow him in silence. Through the entrance. Up the stairs. He picks up the pace and, stubbornly, you slow yours.

He’s unlocked the car, opened your door, and gone around to his own side before you’ve caught up to him. You can’t explain why—just as you couldn’t explain the irrational bolt of horror that struck you when you turned and ran down the alley—but you feel like you could strangle him.

Still in silence, he starts the engine. You can’t stand it anymore.

“So,” you say. Your legs are shaking. “Are you not speaking to me?”

He pulls out of the parking spot. Your head is pounding. Answer me.

He pays at the automated meter. Inches the car down the driveway. Then, finally: “Don’t be so childish,” he says.

Something snaps inside of you.

“Childish? From the man who’s giving me the silent treatment?” You clench your fists, leaving little half-moon imprints in your palms. You look at him sideways; no reaction registers on his face. “Would you mind at least telling me why you’ve decided you’re not talking to me anymore?”

“You don’t—” For the first time, you see anger flash across his face; it disappears as quickly as it came. The car speeds up a tiny bit; he corrects it instantly. “You don’t know why I’m mad at you?”

You feel yourself crumbling—a chain reaction that began when you heard the not-gunshot moving on to its inevitable conclusion.

“If you’d tell me, I bet I’d know,” you snap.

He exhales slowly, as if willing himself to be patient enough to deal with you. You want to wipe that expressionless mask off his face.

“Why did you take off like that?” he asks. His face remains impervious but the anger is in his voice and it scares you a little.

“I thought it was a gunshot,” you say. “Obviously.”

“So did I,” he growls. “Which is why I’m asking you why you ran toward it.”

His words are like a slap in the face and, stubbornly, desperately, you want to hurt him back.

“You’re being condescending,” you say. Your voice shakes, giving you away. “I’m not a child.”

“Then don’t act like one!” Every word is like an icicle to your heart. “It was stupid. Do not ever do something like that again.”

It’s too much for you—the reprimanding tone, the fear you still feel in your bones, the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. You feel tears coming again and you hate yourself for it.

“Don’t speak to me like that!” you say, and it comes out every bit as harsh as you’d intended. He flinches.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says through clenched teeth. “I need to make it clear to you just how—how dangerous and idiotic—”

“So whenever there’s something dangerous—and there will be again, because this is our lives—I’m meant to, what? Let you take care of it and hope for the best?” You feel hysterical. Your throat is raw.

“Yes!” he yells, and it’s your turn to recoil, shrinking into your seat. “That is. Quite literally. What I was trained to do.” He’s tried to lower his voice but the quiet derision is somehow worse than when he shouted.

“You don’t trust me. At all,” you say. There are the tears again. You turn to hide your face, wiping them furiously from your eyes.

“No, I don’t,” he says. “Acting like you did today just proves to me that I shouldn’t.”

Your insides are caving in. You want to grab him by his stupid hoodie strings and make him look into your eyes and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

Your head turned, your forehead pressed against the cool glass, you spot a familiar exit. You pounce on a different instinct—because it’s there, because it’s easy, because you know it will would him.

“Take the exit,” you command. You’re shocked by how cold your voice is. How mean you sound.

“What?”

“Saeyoung, take the exit. Right now.”

He does.

He drives in silence, slowing the car to a stop at a red light. You peek at him. There’s realization in his dark golden eyes—and hurt, too. Good.

“This is the way to Jaehee’s house,” he says. He sounds numb.

“Yes,” you say. “Take me there.”

“But…but we should go home,” he says quietly, and in that moment you feel so angry you want to laugh at the vulnerability in his voice. It’s so easy to hurt him. You can still feel the hot lava anger bubbling under your skin, can still hear the way his voice sounded as he told you he didn’t trust you.

“I don’t want to go home with you,” you say.

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

Jaehee opens the door, takes one look at your face, and ushers you inside without a word. You can’t help it—you turn as she closes the door behind you to watch Saeyoung’s headlights slowly pulling away. He’d waited till you were inside.

Right. Because I can’t be trusted on my own.

Jaehee doesn’t pry, and you love this about her. She ushers you into her warm, familiar living room. She gives you a blanket. She offers to make you a coffee.

It’s late, but you say yes anyway.

It’s only once she’s brought you a mug filled to the brim with foam and dusted with cinnamon that she folds herself onto the couch beside you and fixes you with a knowing look.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

And you have been—fine as you stormed out of the car without saying goodbye, calm as you watched him drive away, steady as you sat alone on Jaehee’s small-yet-squishy couch. But now that she’s asked it all crashes down around you and you burst into tears.

Wordlessly, she opens her arms for you—a bit awkwardly—and you slip into them, burying your face in her chest.

“We never fight,” you sob, knowing you’re soaking her sweater. She runs a soft, small hand over your back—stiffly, like she’s not used to it, but gently, like she wants to be. “We never…and I don’t even know—w-why…”

Jaehee hums soothingly. She takes a deep breath and you follow her lead, choking a little on your own tears.

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” she asks softly. She adjusts you, tucking your head against her shoulder. “It might help.”

You sniffle. In this warm, comfortable room, with this warm, comfortable person, suddenly your actions feel so irrational. Why did you run toward what you assumed was a gunshot? Why did you respond to his concern for you with such unbridled rage?

You tell Jaehee about it—the sound, the alley, the way his face looked when he caught up to you. The things he said in the car. The things you said.

She listens patiently, steady as ever. She tucks your hair behind your ear.

“I’m not entirely surprised to hear that you had that kind of reaction,” she says when you’ve run out of words and are sniffling into her neck. “You’ve been through quite a lot.”

“What, today?” You wriggle into a sitting position. She hands you a tissue box and your coffee.

“Certainly today, but I was actually referring to the past year.”

Oh.

You blow your nose. Take a sip of the coffee. It’s delicious.

“You’re saying I freaked out like that because of, um. Because of what happened at Mint Eye?”

Jaehee looks down at her hands in her lap. “Obviously, I don’t know everything that happened,” she says carefully. “But I can imagine that what you witnessed isn’t something you’ll get over easily. It will take a lot more time.”

When she says it like this, it feels obvious. You can still feel it ringing in your eardrums: the gun, the shouting. The sound of a body hitting the ground.

“Yeah,” you say. Your hands are shaking again.

“Saeyoung should know this,” she says. She places a hand over yours; it stills them.

“He does,” you say. “But he has his own—things—to deal with. From that day, and also before.”

“Yes.” She pats your hands once and then rises. With your eyes, you follow as she goes to the entryway, retrieves your bag from where you dropped it. Pulls out your phone from the outer pocket. “As I suspected.”

She hands you the phone. The screen’s lit up—you’ve just missed a call. Several calls.

“I’m going to make more coffee,” she says, slipping politely toward her kitchen—out of earshot. Your cup is still almost full.

You hesitate for a moment—just a moment—looking at the rows of his name on your screen. The shape of it makes your skin tingle.

You call him back.

“Hello?” He picks up after a quarter of a ring. He sounds breathless. You wonder if he’s made it home already.

“Hi,” you say.

“You called me back.” He’s talking quietly. His throat sounds raw. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Of course I did.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you can hear him breathing—hard, ragged.

“I’m so, so, so, so sorry,” he says, and you can tell that he’s been crying too, in the way his voice catches at the end of each word.

“Saeyoung, I—”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I should never have spoken to you that way. It’s no excuse, but I was just so scared when you ran from me, I—I panicked, but I didn’t mean to…I never meant to—”

“I know.” He shuts up right away. He sounds miserable. You want to stroke his pretty head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s okay. I did deserve it.” His voice is small and suddenly you want to be home, want to kiss his silly, perfect face and squeeze him till the sob is gone from his voice.

“You didn’t,” you say. “You were scared. I can understand that.”

“I was terrified,” he says. “I thought the same you did—you know, that it was a gun, and so I went to get in front of you, but you’d already taken off running toward it. I just—it felt like my soul was getting ripped from my body. I haven’t felt like that since…since—”

“Me neither,” you say. “I mean, me too.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to run toward a gunshot,” he says, and he laughs a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “You’re supposed to be somewhere safe and warm where nothing can hurt you. I can’t—if anything happened to you, I’d—”

“Me too,” you repeat. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”

It’s quiet. You breathe together. In, out.

“I love that you want to protect me,” you say. “But I need you to trust me, too.” He hesitates, and you know that a part of him wants to say so don’t put yourself in danger. Once, he would have. He’s grown up so much since then.

“I do trust you,” he says. His voice breaks. “I didn’t mean what I—I promise I’ll try to—you’re my whole world,” he finishes. Desperately, miserably. Hopefully.

“I want to come home,” you say.

“You do?” The optimism rushes into his voice and you want to bathe in it.

“Please.” You smile and taste your own salty tears at the corners of your lips.

The doorbell rings.

No way.

“No way,” you say into the phone. You cross the room, tug the door open. “No way,” you say to his face. His arms hang at his sides and his eyes are wide and bright as if he’s still not sure if you’ll slam the door in his face.

“I only drove like a block away…” he mutters, trailing off nervously. Sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Should’ve known.” You throw yourself at him and he tears his hands out of his pockets in time to catch you, a surprised laugh bubbling in his throat as you catapult into his chest.

“So you missed me even though I’m a sad, miserable excuse for a boyfriend?” he says into your hair. You stand on tiptoe and kiss his face till his eyes are glazed over and the goofy grin is back on his face. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, dummy.” You kiss his throat and he shivers. “Take me home.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Friends! Let me know if you’d like to be added to this list so you’re tagged in my future mysme writings~ <3

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06 @nad-zeta

#mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #mysme #request #gureishi writes requests #marilu100399 #saeyoung choi #707 #saeyoung x reader #707 x reader #is this loosely based on a fight I once had with my real-life partner #hmm #who can say

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teamxdark · 4 years

Text

They say the pen is mightier than the sword...

My Dearest Arthur,

Today, as I was heading back to the castle, Galahad stopped me. He pointed out a bird, small and blue like the sky, drinking from a puddle on the ground. We both stopped, watching it as it drank its fill, stretched its wings, and flew away.

It made me think of you.

My love, you try so hard to be the best leader for us all. You do it without complaint, struggling with the problems of a populace, making the decisions that a lesser being wouldn't dare consider. I know how much this burden crushes you, but all the same, I cannot for the life of me think of anyone more worthy than you to hold such power.

I have heard the complaints of those who disagree with your choices. They throw about opinions without care for consequences. They know nothing of the thought you put into every decision you make, and every time I hear some scoundrel run their mouth about how they would do better than you, I feel the urge to silence them, with my words or my blade, I care not which.

The things you do to me, my love...

Yes, you are the most worthy king, of that, I am certain, but you are also the most deserving of the freedom you crave. I see it, Arthur. I see the way you stare out the window, into the sky, beyond the clouds, with such profound longing that I know and understand all too well. It is enough to make a man weep.

...I have wept, I must admit. For you, and over you. If I could grant you your freedom, I would do so in a heartbeat, even if it meant that you would be gone, leaving like that bird, flying away without a backwards glance and never looking back. My grief at your absence would only be assuaged by the knowledge that you are finally unburdened. That you are happy.

Sometimes, I like to imagine that you take me with you. I imagine your hand in mine, and your smile reaching your eyes, the portrait of joy that should never have left your face, and I follow you, just as I have vowed, to the ends of the earth and into the world beyond this life.

I know it is selfish. I know it is impossible. You, Arthur, are the most selfless man I know. I have seen you grow over many years, becoming more and more responsible with time and experience. It is I who has become selfish. It is I who indulges these fantasies of taking you away to bask in your brilliance that I can never get enough of. But you could never betray your people. You could never say yes to a premature freedom. You will not be king forever, and this we both know, and you are willing to wait for the end of your reign while I still imagine ripping you from this life without a care for those that remain behind.

My desires are inconsiderate, not just to you, but to everything you've worked for. To everyone who needs you. To those who need me, too.

I shall never be worthy of you, Arthur, but my heart shall never beat for anyone else in the way it does for you.

Forever yours,

Lancelot

...

Darling Arthur,

Do you remember when we were young? Do you remember when we were but boys, training until we were collapsed on the ground, day after day?

Do you remember the first time you called me 'Lance'?

I hated it back then. I warned you to never call me anything but 'Lancelot' again, for it was my name. It was the name my mother had given me, my mother who saved me and chose me before I even knew how to walk. My name was my link to her, an important part of my identity and my proof of being wanted.

I was, truly, a stupid child.

Now, I treasure the name you gave to me. I do not allow anyone else to use it. 'Lance' is the name you bestowed upon me, a name to signify our own link, our bond... one so close that it makes me dizzy with happiness when I remember just how much we mean to each other. I now hold that name close to my heart, next to my mother's 'Lancelot' and my son's 'Father'.

It pains me that I do not have such a name to give you, my love, save for the endearments in these letters that I shall never send. Yet I never miss how blissful you look when I call you by your given name. You appear unhappy by 'Your Majesty'. You appear troubled by 'my liege'. You appear vexed by 'Sire'.

And so, when I am able, I call you by your name. I call you my friend, so that you know that I love you and that you mean the world to me. You always have, even before my feelings shifted into what they are now.

I see you smile and it is as if I have been struck by lightning. I hear you laugh and I fear I might swoon. If I do even one thing to make you happy, I feel as though I am walking on air, and I wish to do it again, and again, and again, over and over, endless until you never know pain again.

Arthur, the way I feel for you consumes me, like a fire that will never go out. My feelings scorch me, leaving burns and scars that will never fully go away, hidden on the inside where you will never see them. You will never truly know just how deeply this arrow from Cupid's bow has pierced me... I dare say he's emptied his quiver on me, for the mere thought of life without you, without your smile, your warmth, your brilliance, your bravery, your understanding, without you and everything that you are...

I don't dare tell you about these newer feelings of mine. I know you, and I know you will not treat me any different if my particular type of love for you does not match that of yours for me, but my head is clouded by fear. I cannot stop imagining that you shall become uncomfortable in my presence, that you will hold me away at arm's length, that you will look for someone else to court in an attempt to help me move on... All the possibilities are so painful, Arthur. I would rather nothing changed, even though I know my fear is irrational. I should believe in our bond, trust in our friendship, rely on the knowledge that you would never push me away...

I am a coward, my love. To be called the Ultimate Knight feels like a joke, for I am so afraid that I cannot listen to the logic in my own head. My strength of body means nothing if my strength of mind is as fragile as glass.

Yet, even as I long for something different in my relationship with you, I cannot say that I am unhappy with what I do have with you. Perhaps this, too, is why I will not speak these words nor send these letters, for what I already have with you, such a close, personal friendship, is more than I can ask for.

You have always been enough for me, Arthur.

Eternally yours,

Lancelot

...

Glorious Arthur,

I must apologize. I must, for I fear my mind is spinning out of my own control.

Every day I think of you. Every morning when I wake up, every night as I go to sleep, in every spare moment of my life, you are in my waking thoughts.

You haunt my dreams, too. At all moments, it seems, my mind conspires against me. All I want is to be happy with what I have with you, but it appears my desires are only growing, not fading, with time, and they eat me alive with every passing day.

I imagine your forehead against mine, with your hands on my waist. You lift your head, kissing me once on each eyelid, and I feel weaker than I ever have in my life.

I imagine your hands, removing my armor so that they may rest upon me, touching my back, my shoulders, my chest, all areas that I keep guarded under steel and promises. You disarm me, and I allow it. My foolish heart wishes to be vulnerable before you, for I know I will always be able to trust you with myself.

I imagine the lightest touches on my arms, spreading like trails of fire as your fingers slide along my person, and I let myself be consumed.

I imagine your lips pressing to mine, and I lose the ability to breathe.

I imagine your eyes, looking into mine, glowing with care and love and happiness, and I drown without a second thought.

Sometimes I dream of things I dare not write down here, my sweet, for it makes my face burn and my heart race and all I want to do is apologize for thinking of you in such a way. It feels terrible, as though I am taking advantage of you in my thoughts, and I fear that one day you will discover the fantasies of my mind and feel discomfort or disgusted by me.

If I ever lost you, Arthur, I know my world would shatter, and I would never become whole again.

Apologetically yours,

Lancelot

...

Arthur,

I can't stand it. Today, I cannot stand it at all.

I feel desperate, like a caged animal. I feel my soul clawing at my body from within, needing to come out and indulge. My composure is in shambles, my mind is in disarray, and though you are not at fault, it is all because of you.

Arthur, I burn for you. My heart screams and cries out and it's painful. Every inch of me aches for the smallest touch, I long for the basest of acknowledgement from you, a look, a word, a smile, Chaos, anything! Just the thought of you giving me your attention sends me into a fit, and I know that even the brush of your arm against mine as you pass me in the corridor would be enough to bring me to ecstasy!

My head is pounding, my ears playing and replaying the sound of my name coming from your lips, and I crave it. I crave you, my love, and it has never been so powerful or so consuming before. I don't know what is wrong with me. I don't know why today is the day that I might go mad. I am afraid, Arthur. I am afraid that my need for you is pushing me to the brink of madness and that I will not be able to stop myself from jumping down into it.

Arthur, the love of my life, how can I even begin to fully describe this? I've written so much and yet it is only a crumb of what is flaring inside me. I think of you and I burn up. You are not an inferno, for that is a small candle compared to the one that burns inside me. You are nothing less than the sun in the sky, approaching me to incinerate me in an instant, but even that feels like a pale comparison today.

Arthur, I am deeply sorry, but I fear writing this is only making things worse. I must stop before I

...

My love,

My upcoming mission to Acorn Kingdom is fast approaching. Soon it will be time for me to depart. I hope that, when that day comes, you are not too busy to see me off.

I will miss you terribly while I am gone, but I take peace in knowing that I am doing this for Avalon, and for you. To make this world a better place, and for you to have one less thing to worry about.

It's pathetic, is it not? As a knight, I should be focusing on the best for my kingdom, as I vowed to when you first let Caliburn descend upon my shoulders and gave to me my title, and yet I know the truth.

It's for you, Arthur. It's always been for you.

...

In his study, the king shoves away the stack of letters, his face burning as a chorus of emotion swells within him, unable to take the guilt at having read so many of Lancelot's secret letters. His hands tremble as he searches around his desk for something to write with.

...

Dear Lancelot,

My wonderful Lancelot,

To Lance,

My dearest

Lance,

Please come see me when you have a moment to yourself. Do not be afraid.

Yours,

Arthur

#I wrote this on a note app while on a train so it is what it is.#Arthurlot.#Avalon Series.

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oigimi · 4 years

Text

. moonlight .

. arthur x reader . 1.4k words . hurt/comfort, slight angst .

You paced around the library, trying to fight the growing pit in your stomach. Your body was getting weak and tired, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sit down, out of fear you’d stew too much on your own thoughts. Being alone was scary. Having no one to talk to in a situation of anxiety does nothing but feed a person’s demons, and that was exactly what you were going through. Arthur had been out for a while, having a grand time at the pub. You were happy for your boyfriend; He’d just sent in a draft of his latest story to be published. A long, celebratory night was obviously in order… except for the fact that this was his fifth celebratory night in a row. And you hadn’t been invited to any of them.

After everything you and Arthur had been through, between your initial meeting, to your many adventures in town, to the climactic confrontation at the theatre, it was difficult not to trust him. He was the one person you could rely on to always be there for you, to make you forget all your worries in exchange for smiles and laughter. Arthur brought out the best in you, and you brought out the best in him, so why was he spending so much at the pub away from you and refusing to give an explanation? You wholeheartedly trusted him, but still your stomach churned and your heart ached at the thought of him having some sort of ulterior motives.

The library seemed to close in on you the longer you stayed, so you took a deep breath and forced your shaking legs to take you somewhere else. The mansion was massive and you were positive there was at least one room you could relax in. But which one? You couldn’t bring yourself to sleep just yet, you had taken a bath, and if you fixed a meal in the kitchen, it would likely wake up Sebastian. You looked at the clock. Thirty past midnight. Great.

A steady silver light, you noticed, made its way through the window and onto the floor. Something about its desaturated glow eased you for a moment, almost as if it could feel the sense of loneliness and fear that dwelled inside of you. Oh, how the moon was always there for humanity in times of trouble. When there was nothing to turn to for relief, there was the moon. You made your way out into the garden in hopes of absorbing some of that relief. What else were you supposed to do? Maybe you would fall asleep outside, it’d feel the same as sleeping without Arthur in a bed anyway.

Just as the thought of your lost boyfriend crossed your mind, a carriage pulled up to the mansion’s gates to dispense him. Arthur thanked the driver and opened the gates, jumping back when he saw you sitting alone on the fountain.

“Good evening, sweetheart! What are you out here for? Isn’t it a little late for little birds to be flying around?”

��Maybe,” you answered, forcing yourself to smile. “Ever hear of night owls?”

“You’ve caught me there.” Arthur offered his hand to you, and you gladly took it, eager to feel his touch again. But as he escorted you back inside, you couldn’t help but return to the thoughts that clouded your mind. Relationships were built on trust and communication, and you prided yourself on how stable your relationship with Arthur was, so why was it so difficult to even think about voicing your worries to him?

You sat down on the corner of his bed and watched him undress. Your hands couldn’t help but fidget, just another way your subconscious communicated your fears. Your fidgeting hands, your bouncing leg, and your dry throat all pushed the narrative that you didn’t want Arthur to know was true: You were worried about him.

When Arthur was finished changing, he sat beside you and pulled you into a tight, yet gentle embrace. “It’s okay, love,” he murmured, beginning to rock you. He rested his head on yours and rubbed your arm. “I would never do anything to hurt you, and I’m deeply sorry that I made you feel this way.”

Your eyes widened, and your heart dropped. How did he do that? How did he always manage to sport these things? It was unfair. It was shocking. “Stop doing that,” you whispered, trying to blink away the tears stinging your eyes. You couldn’t help but melt into Arthur’s arms, returning his hug with one of less strength, but equal passion. “I hate that you always know everything that’s going on with me without even trying, but here I am completely clueless to anything you’re thinking! I- I don’t even know where you’ve been going these past few days but if I were the one sneaking out you would probably be able to tell where I was within moments! I feel so in the dark, Arthur! And I hate it when you leave!”

You wept a bit more, burying your face into your boyfriend’s chest. Arthur said nothing for a moment and let you cry. He’d decided that allowing you to express everything within you would do much more for you, and that he would always listen. He nodded, kissing the top of your head and closing his eyes. “I’m sorry… does it hurt that much when I’m gone?” “Yes! I got so used to feeling your warmth at night and resting my head on your shoulder, and I’m just afraid I won’t be able to do that anymore. There’s so many gorgeous people out there in the world, and I still just can’t believe that you chose me, so my mind just… it wanders.”

Arthur felt his heart get heavier, and his embrace weakened. He eventually pulled away from you and shook his head. “I picked you over everybody in the world because there’s nobody else like you. There’s nobody that can make me laugh like you do. Nobody that could ever truly love and accept me, nobody that can make me feel happy to be alive the same way that you can. I’ve felt that way from the very beginning, my sweet little dove. And nothing has ever changed. Except, perhaps, the fact that I love you more and more every single day we’re together.”

You stared up at his sapphire-blue eyes, your own puffy and pink from the crying you’d just finished doing. Sighing, you shifted your gaze down to your lap. “I love you too,” you murmured. Perhaps you were simply being irrational. Worried for no reason. You always knew Arthur loved you. You’d known the whole time that he just didn’t have it in him to betray your trust, so why were you worried in the first place? You scolded yourself for allowing yourself to have these thoughts, and took a deep sigh to lighten your chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let myself think that way.”

“Don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong, sweet love of mine.” Arthur pulled you into his lap and chuckled a bit. “It is quite endearing that you were so worried about me! I think I would have felt the same way. Being without you is truly a curse.”

“So where did you go?” you asked, finally calming yourself down. “And why couldn’t I come?”

Arthur stroked your hair, running his fingers through it. “Well you couldn’t come because you’re going to find out what it is when it’s all finished. And I’ve been all over town, love! What I have planned is going to be fantastic. I hope you love it.”

You cupped Arthur’s face, and pressed your foreheads together. “Hmm… Alright, I believe you! You’re a brilliant man, Arthur. Whatever it is you have planned for me, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“I hope so!” Arthur laughed, pulling you with him as he lied down on the bed. You giggled and held him tightly.

“Arthur! Gah!”

The two of you held each other in bed, rubbing noses and exchanging sweet kisses. As you relished in the euphoric feeling in your chest, you glanced over at the window. There it was again: The shining, silver moon. The light it cast didn’t seem as gloomy and anxious as before, rather it felt like a spotlight. A spotlight that illuminated the love you and Arthur shared together. And for that, you felt grateful.

When Arthur turned off the lights, and gave you one last goodnight kiss, you remained awake for just a few moments longer, thanking the moon for always being there.

#ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp scenarios

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amarimaryllis · 4 years

Text

I Liked You So Much, We Lost It (Iwaizumi x Reader)

Pairing: Iwaizumi/Reader

Prompt/Summary: You and Iwaizumi are so in love with each other that the only way the universe can separate you both is to put 8,577 kilometers worth of land and sea between the two of you (spoiler: the universe actually does put 8,577 kilometers worth of land and sea between the two of you).

Tags: Fluff, Angst

Note: I used she/her pronouns for the reader, Lots of timeskips, Inspired by Ysabelle’s “I Liked You So Much, We Lost It”, Sequel to “I Like You So Much, You’ll Know It” but can be read as a standalone fic

Warnings: Angst, Very Slight Manga Spoilers, Slight Canon Divergence (you won’t even notice it if you don’t read into it so let’s shhhh, I mean this entire fanfic is a canon divergence but let’s not 😌)

Almost everyone in Aoba Johsai knew that you and Iwaizumi were together. So many people had invested themselves in the friends to lovers situation that you guys had that it was impossible for them to not find out that you guys were finally together. Nearly three years of you guys just tip-toeing around each other and it finally paid off.

You guys were practically inseparable since the day that Iwaizumi brought you to the convenience store to shelter yourselves from the rain. If one was to see either of you, it was sure that the other would come around eventually. You guys were so deeply in love with each other that nothing could separate you. However, months had passed, and in a few weeks, it would be time for you all to graduate. You never really knew what Iwaizumi’s plans were after Seijoh. You just trusted that everything would fall into place as it always did.

“Hajime, why are you avoiding my gaze?” You pout from the floor of his bedroom, sitting with your legs crossed as you basked in the warmth that his hoodie brought.

Iwaizumi looks up from his work to give you a small smile. “You look too cute in my jacket.”

“And?” You blush slightly, but you don’t let him fully change the topic.

“It’s distracting, and I have this final project to finish.” Iwaizumi turns to look back at the paper.

“Project? Didn’t we finish them all last week?” You raise a brow, trying to take a look at the paper before Iwaizumi hastily pulls it away from your view. “Hey, Hajime… What is that?”

“It’s nothing.” Iwaizumi’s body is tense, avoiding your gaze as he fiddles with the pen.

“Okay.” You can feel your heart beating quicker. Worry filled your veins, but you try to tell yourself that you’re probably just overreacting. “I trust you.”

Iwaizumi sighs before he stands up and goes to your side. He plops behind you, pulling you in between his legs before he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. “I’m gonna miss this.”

You smile at his touch, closing your eyes to bask in the warmth that he emits before his words sink. “You’re talking as if I’m gonna be leaving.”

You giggle lightly before you turn around and wrap your arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, pressing your forehead onto his. “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”

Iwaizumi looks conflicted as he stares into your eyes, his grip on your waist getting tighter with each passing second. You can see his eyes swirl with a million different things, and it scares you. What was it that had him acting like this?

“Hajime—“

Iwaizumi cuts you off with a kiss.

It’s desperate. The way his lips move against yours, searching for something, longing for something. His lips were soft against yours, but the emotions you could feel swirling inside him made his movements hasty and thoughtless. It was like he was trying to forget something, erasing whatever it was that ate him up on the inside as he deepened the kiss.

He pulls away, giving you a chance to breathe before he’s hoisting you up and dropping you on his bed, hovering on top of you as he gazes into your eyes.

His eyes were teary, and this prompts you to speak. “Hajime what’s wrong?”

Iwaizumi drops to your side on the bed before he pulls you on top of him as he wraps his arms around you. “Promise me.”

“Promise you what?” The serious tone laced in Iwaizumi’s words makes your heart beat quicker, the fear of something—you didn’t know what exactly made you feel afraid at that moment—settling itself deep into your chest. “Hajime, what’s going on?”

“Promise me you’ll stay with me.” Iwaizumi whispers, his arms wrapping tighter around you as if he was afraid that you were going to disappear. “Please.”

“I promise.” You grab Iwaizumi’s cheeks with your hand before you press a quick peck on his lips. “Now tell me what’s going on. You seem so stressed lately, and it’s kind of making me worried.”

“I’m…” Iwaizumi’s voice is strained as if the words stuck in his throat were laced with thorns that wound him as he struggles to let it out. “I’m gonna study Sports Sciences.”

You giggle lightly. “Why are you worried? You’re gonna do great—“

“In California.” Iwaizumi whispers, but you hear it nonetheless.

It doesn’t sink in. You don’t want it to. As the anchors of that statement plunge deeper into the ocean of your system, the currents that try to keep you alive raise themselves to fight against the weight of the anchors. It’s futile, the waves of emotions, thoughts rage until they’re slowly drowning you in the uncertainty of your future. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” Iwaizumi sits up, which in turn makes you sit up as well. “No. I’m just… I don’t want to lose you just because I’m leaving.”

“Then why are you so stressed?” You could feel your eyes well up with relief, but no matter how much you look on the bright side, there’s still that gnawing feeling in your stomach. “You’re not losing me unless you break up with me, idiot.”

“Hey, don’t cry.” Iwaizumi pouts lightly at you, making you laugh at the way he looked. He smiles, his heart swelling as he sees you laugh. “Are you sure you’re okay with it? I’m gonna be all the way in California. The timezones won’t match. I’ll be busy on some days. I won’t be here to hug you or kiss you. Which is pretty damn unfortunate cause I really like kissing you—“

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” Iwaizumi stops when he hears you call his name while grabbing his cheeks.

“Yes, love?” Iwaizumi responds immediately. It was as if months of being with you had trained him to do so when you called out his full name.

“I love you, and kilometers of land and sea isn’t gonna change that.” You smile before pressing a kiss on his lips. “Stop worrying.”

“Do that again.” Iwaizumi says as he eyes your lips.

“Do what?” You decide to tease him, acting as if you didn’t know that he wanted another kiss.

“Y/N.” He groans as he glares at you playfully. “You know what I mean.”

“But I don’t.” You have a shit-eating grin on your face.

“Fine, be like that.” Iwaizumi huffs before he pulls you for another kiss.

You can feel him smile against your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

That was 10 months ago. Iwaizumi left in July, making it a total of six months that you haven’t seen him in person. The first month went off without a hitch. Video chats every day, messages shared regardless of the other’s time zone, and other methods of communication were used just so you guys felt like you were still there with each other in person. Unfortunately, it didn’t go that well.

If you were to describe what happened, you would say that you could compare it to a candle. It burns brightly at first before it slowly melts the way and the candle comes crashing down, snuffing out its flame with its own wax. Each month that passed was a step closer to the end that you both desperately tried to ignore.

You laid in your bed, snuggled into your blankets as you tried to seek warmth. The jacket that Iwaizumi gave you that you wore provided no warmth. It may have eased the cold that the rain brought, but it did nothing to ease the winter that stormed within your chest. Despite the bitter cold, you held on. After all, every winter has to end, right?

You frowned as you looked at one of the pictures that Iwaizumi was tagged in. A blonde girl with her arm around his shoulder, and Iwaizumi with a bright smile. The kind of smile he used to wear in pictures with you.

You could feel anger in your veins, jealousy mingling with it as it brought your blood to a light simmer. You were being unreasonable, you knew that, but six months without Iwaizumi was getting to you, and seeing some other girl doing what you desperately wanted to, but not being able to, made an envious feeling grow in your chest. It didn’t help that she wore the jacket you knew all too well: A jacket you gave Iwaizumi before he left for California. Your eyes teared up at the fact.

You shut your phone and your eyes, ready to turn in for the night before the familiar ringtone fills your ears. You wait. You don’t answer immediately. You let the phone ring a bit more. Your irrational side coming out to play as you hoped that maybe Iwaizumi would feel just as cold as you if you answered him later than you usually did.

You pick up.

“Good morning, love.” Iwaizumi’s face pops up on your skin, a bright smile on his face as the beginnings of the morning sun kiss his skin. The background was moving, and the camera was unstable, which meant that Iwaizumi was probably walking to his class somewhere, “I’m sorry for calling at this time. It’s probably late there but I missed— Wait, are you okay? You look like you just cried.”

You saw that Iwaizumi had stopped walking, the background behind him as stagnant as the words stuck in your throat.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” Iwaizumi furrows his brows. “Talk to me.”

You begin to speak. “I don’t think—“

The lightning strikes outside, and a bright flash fills your room. You laughed bitterly in your head, perhaps it was a warning from the universe.

You change your approach. “In the hundred different futures you imagined… In the Dateko game…”

You struggle to find your words.

Iwaizumi smiles, but it looks quite forced to you. “The hundred different futures I imagined with you when you cheered for me in the Dateko game?”

“Yeah.” You almost feel guilty as you finalize the words you’re about to say in your head.

“What about those?” Iwaizumi asks, ever the patient and understanding boyfriend he was, but you could see it. The glint in his eyes that he had whenever he wanted to finish something. The look he had in his eyes whenever he just wanted to get things over with like they were some sort of… Inconvenience.

“Did you...” You shift in your bed, second-guessing your words as you sit up and fiddle with the hem of Iwaizumi’s jacket. “Was there a future that went like this?”

“Like this?” Iwaizumi looks confused. “Where I call you in the middle of a street? Not really? That’s too specific, honestly.” He chuckles and your heart sinks.

“No, not that.” You say solemnly. “A future where we don’t work.”

“What?” Iwaizumi looks stunned, and for a second, your heart races at the sight of him looking as he did before… Before he went to California. “What do you mean? Y/N?”

“I just—“

“HAJIME!” You could hear a woman’s voice on the other side. Years of learning English made sure that you understood what she said without a problem “Ready to go?”

Iwaizumi looks away from you as he turns to the source, a smile painting his face. “Of course, just give me a second.”

Your heart sinks in realization.

That’s how he smiled at you in the past.

“I’m gonna go.” You choke out as tears flow down your cheeks. “Have a good day, Iwaizumi-san.”

You shut the phone.

You cry. You didn’t need to hear it fall from Iwaizumi’s lips. You didn’t need to have it confirmed. You knew him like the back of your hand, and you knew that he had feelings for that girl, whoever the hell she was. You knew that he probably only kept you because he didn’t want to hurt you. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you anymore. He probably did, it’s just that he found someone who was… There. Someone who wasn’t in a different place. Someone he could hug anytime he wanted to. It’s unfortunate that it wasn’t you, but maybe you should’ve seen it coming.

So you let go, and it was timely. What started underneath the rain, ended under it. The warmth of the first confession was washed away by the droplets, leaving nothing but the cold to soak deep into your system as you sobbed into your bed, hastily pulling the jacket off of your frame.

You make sure that Iwaizumi never gets to contact you. You had left him a message: a cruel “I’m breaking up with you, I’m sorry,” and nothing more. Maybe that would hurt him enough to make him feel less guilty about making moves on the other girl. You knew it was stupid to just leave him like that, but you just wanted it to stop. You hated the feeling of uncertainty. You hated the feeling of not being able to do anything. If you had to hurt yourself in the process of finding your peace of mind, then so be it.

Years pass and you’ve graduated. You’ve moved on. It wasn’t an easy process, but you pulled through. There were moments you just so wanted to desperately call Iwaizumi and crawl back into his arms, apologizing and all, but you stop yourself each time. You cut off all contact with him, you weren’t going to waste that. However, you knew that no matter how moved on you are, some part of you will always love him… And that’s okay. You’re okay. That’s the only thing that mattered.

Currently, you were in a convenience store, grabbing a quick snack before you went to the stadium to watch the volleyball match with Oikawa, who arrived from Argentina a few days back and wanted to meet up. The setter was probably looking for milkbread in one of the aisles, so you took your sweet time in picking a drink and snack because the setter would probably be shocked by the new variety of milkbread choices that popped up while he was still in Argentina.

Your phone buzzes.

Flatass: I’m at the table near the back, slowpoke. Get your ass here.

You roll your eyes with a grin before you text back.

You: You’re just jealous I have more ass than you.

You don’t get a reply. You shrug and pay for your items before you walk to the back of the store to eat with Oikawa.

“Oikawa—“ You stop at the sight.

Instead of Oikawa on the chair, it was Iwaizumi, still as handsome as he was years ago.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi smiles. “Do you mind if I watch with you guys? Oikawa had an extra ticket and who was I to decline—“

“I don’t mind.” You smile, nothing but happiness filling your chest as you reunite with an old friend.

A/N: I like to pretend that this part of the storyline doesn’t exist 💖. Also, this was written before Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer was a thing so please excuse the ending.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #genre.angstfluff #cont.spoilers #tw angst

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redorich · 4 years

Text

Out of This World

Niki watches despairingly as her new roommate, one Mr. Wilbur Soot, once again pours water into his cereal. He seems to prefer it that way; Niki can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, whether her roommate is a literal alien from outer space, or just the weirdest motherfucker she’s ever met.

What kind of a last name is Soot, anyway? She thinks to herself unkindly. At least he doesn’t leave dirty clothes on the floor for her to clean up like her last roommate did. But seriously, Niki can’t tell if this man is a crackhead or not.

“Niki, can you pass the salt?” Wilbur says, breaking her out of her reverie. Without thinking, she plucks it from the lowest shelf of the tiny kitchen cabinet and hands it to him. She regrets it instantly when he begins to salt his cereal.

Breathing deeply so as not to grab him by his bony shoulders and shout, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”, she flees the scene of the food crime. When Niki was in college, she was surrounded by people who asserted they had the world figured out. Atoms and gravity and wavelengths. But Niki knows that humanity is desperate to control the uncontrollable, define that which cannot be explained. Science, Niki knows, isn’t just throwing out what doesn’t fit, but rather taking all the data and asking the question, “Why?” So, she thinks, let’s consider the data.

-------

Niki sneaks trepidatiously to the door to Wilbur’s bedroom. Who knows what sort of unholy, confusing mess he’s got in there, lurking in wait for its next unsuspecting victim. A pinch of guilt hits her. Yeah, Wilbur may be a lunatic, but an alien? Really? It’s a bit uncharitable of her to think such a thing. Shaking herself, she knocks on the door.

“Yes?” Wilbur’s voice carries from inside the room. “Come in.”

Steeling herself, she turns the doorknob with a sweaty palm and is faced with…

A bed. A desk with a computer on it. Two pairs of shoes lined neatly near the closet. Wilbur is taking off his headphones-- he was playing Minecraft. How… ordinary of him.

“Hi, Wilbur. Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted, uh, to see how you were settling in.”

Wilbur smiles his pretty smile. “Thank you. Quite unaccustomed am I to the comforts of-- apartments.”

What Yoda-ass kind of phrasing is that? Niki thinks. A figurine of the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters stares her down from its place on Wilbur’s desk. She meets its eyes warily.

“Oh! Noticed my Ghostbusters statuette, have you?” Wilbur says brightly. “I have more in my closet, if you should like to see them.”

Niki is filled with a sick sense of curiosity. Yes, she wants to see whatever insane thing Wilbur hides in his closet, but she also doesn’t. She idly wonders if Wilbur has ever read The Cask of Amontillado. She feels like he has. This is not comforting.

Wilbur doesn’t sense her hesitation. A small corner of her brain thinks it’s because he’s unfamiliar with human body language. Without pause, Wilbur opens the closet door, revealing…

Niki’s first thought is, where does he keep his clothes? Because the closet is filled with Ghostbusters paraphernalia. The entire. Fucking. Closet. It wasn’t even that great of a movie?? How much did Wilbur spend on this, anyway?

Her roommate misinterprets her blank uncomprehending stare as a marveling gaze. He puffs up proudly.

“Such a profound impact have these movies made! I am truly fortunate to have met a lass of such upstanding artistic caliber, that you should also enjoy the Ghostbusters franchise.”

“Thank you for showing me this,” she says slowly. “I need to-- water the dog. I mean, I left the stove on. At my friend’s house. Uh, see you later.”

She beats a hasty retreat, leaving her apartment for Eret’s place. Something whispers in the depths of her mind: Doesn’t one of the Ghostbusters movies have aliens in it?

-------

Orange is her favorite nail polish color. Eret paints the nails on her right hand in that soft warm shade of orange as he listens to her complain.

“Am I being irrational? Like, do you think I’m going too far?”

Eret hums noncommittally, putting a little flamingo sticker on her index nail. “He does sound like an unusual person, but I don’t know if I would say he’s an alien.”

Niki nods her head, since she can’t gesture with her hands. “Okay, yeah, sure-- but he puts salt in his cereal with water. He has a literal dragon’s hoard of memorabilia from shitty movies that came out like three decades ago. And his vibe is just...off. Like when I talk to him, he’s there, but his head’s drifting off somewhere in outer space. God, I’m the worst.”

Eret protests. “Hey, hey, you’re not the worst. Look. I don’t know why this dude is bugging you out so much, but you said he didn’t seem dangerous, right?”

Niki nods dejectedly.

“So, we can figure this out together,” Eret says with a flourish, screwing the top back onto the bottle of polish.

The tender moment is interrupted by Niki’s ringtone. It’s from Wilbur; speak of the devil and he shall appear. Gingerly, so as not to ruin the wet paint on her nails, she picks up the phone and puts it on speaker. “Hello?” she says, motioning for Eret to remain quiet.

“Ahoy, Niki! Wherefore are mine frog legs gone?”

“What?” Eret mouths at her. Niki doesn’t understand either.

“Sorry, Wilbur, what was that?”

“My frog legs,” comes the crackly timbre of a phone in an area with poor reception. “They are no longer in the refrigerator.”

Niki sputters. “Why did you have frog legs in the-- no, never mind. I don’t know what happened to your frog legs, Wilbur.”

The phone line repeats static to her for a moment as Wilbur pauses. “Interesting. Perhaps they walked away, as legs are so oft wont to do. Niki, would you mind dearly to purchase some more? And perhaps, be you willing, some condensed milk?”

Eret silently gags at the idea of frog legs and condensed milk together. Niki doesn’t blame him.

“Okay,” Niki says.

Eret shakes his head at her, as though begging her not to torture herself like this. The moment Niki hangs up, the first words out of Eret’s mouth are, “That man is one hundred percent an alien. I am so sorry I ever doubted you.”

-------

With frog legs, condensed milk, and an Eret in tow, Niki enters her apartment the following morning with new-found assurance. The rest of the evening goes about as normal as it can, with Wilbur humming nursery rhymes and stirring a pot of, quite frankly, poison. Niki and Eret hide in the living room watching all the Ghibli movies until the only light left comes from the TV in front of them. The front door opens and the floors creak as Will enters. I thought he was in his room?

Eret seems to be on the same page as her. “I didn’t hear him leave,” he says, distant fear in his eyes.

Niki’s ears pick up a faint sound. “Shh!” she hisses. “He’s on the phone.”

Though the apartment is dark (the only light being the TV), Wilbur’s eyes glow like an animal caught on camera. Niki shivers. She only barely catches a glimpse before he ducks back into the entrance hallway, but what she sees unnerves her.

“Philza, calm down,” Wilbur says from the hallway as he takes off his shoes. “It is fine, she suspects not.”

A pause. The other person on the line, Philza, is talking.

Wilbur replies, “She was impressed with my Ghostbusters collection, you know-- Ghostbusters is a great movie, fuck off!”

Another pause. Wilbur sighs.

“Aye, I must admit you may have been right on that one. Pretending to be human is--”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

Wilbur’s head peers around the hallway’s corner in a panic to see Niki and Eret. Niki is pointing her finger at Wilbur with pride on her face, and Eret looks as though he wants to be doing the same thing.

The two in the living room both flush a bit at the outburst, but Niki doggedly continues. “You’re an alien!”

Even though Wilbur’s phone isn’t on speaker, Niki and Eret hear Philza’s laughter from all the way across the room. Wilbur sputters and angrily hangs up the phone, before turning the corner to properly face the two humans. His eyes are actually glowing, it wasn’t a trick of the light, Eret observes. Of course, he also notes that Wilbur’s eyes are the size of dinner plates, and he looks about ready to jump out the window to run from them.

“I am… not an alien,” Wilbur says softly.

“Wh-- but you just said--” Eret says, then cuts himself off when Wilbur phases through the fucking floor.

“He’s a ghost,” Niki whispers, all the pieces clicking into place. Old English, weird taste in food, Ghostbusters are you kidding me. If Niki didn’t just watch her roommate evaporate, she’d be banging her head against a wall and asking her professors to revoke her degree.

Wilbur phases back up through the floor, much closer this time but still hesitant. He sits down a few feet away from the pair of humans nervously. He’s more afraid of us than we are of him, Niki thinks. Like the bears at the zoo.

“For many years, observed the living have I,” Wilbur begins slowly. “I wished to commune with them once again, as one of their own. My father-- Philza-- said unto me that I knew nothing of the modern era. I confess that he was right. Willst you cast me out of your home, knowing now of the spectre that I am?”

Niki tries and fails to suppress the amused quirk of her eyebrow. “How about this: Eret and I show you the ropes of being alive in the 21st century, and in return, you keep the frog legs on your side of the fridge?”

Wilbur smiles that pretty smile again. “Deal.”

-------

“Niki? What is an OnlyFans?”

FIN

#this was a collab written with barnaclegirl on discord #she doesnt have a tumblr so i cant tell yall to follow her :(#mcyt #nihachu #wilbur soot #eret #philza #ph1lza #me.txt #dream smp

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snapeaddict · 4 years

Text

Snapemas day 6: Christmas food

They are blind

‘Come on Severus, it is Christmas. I do not want you to be angry with me on Christmas day! I am not going to bed until you have opened this door.’

‘It is two in the morning, headmaster. I hardly think this is the appropriate time, and Christmas is over’, the Potions Master answered irritably, his voice muffled by the distance.

But Albus did not take no for an answer.

‘Do not pretend you are going to sleep, my boy. You are going to brew until dawn, aren’t you? I could keep you company.’

‘Certainly not. Leave me alone, headmaster.’

The older man sighed. He would not tell Severus the truth, because he was wrong, and he had known it even before he had given the invisible cloak to young Harry. No student should be allowed in the corridors after curfew, he was aware of it, he was the one who made the rules. But he just could not keep the cloak any longer. He supposed it was irresponsible of him, that he should have waited for Harry to be older before giving it back. But who knew what could happen in the mid time? The cloak wasn’t his, he needed to get rid of it, desperately. Wrapping it had burned his fingers. He viewed it as the relic of a shameful past – if he could refer to it as the past yet – and had made a choice.

But Severus was right, and stubborn, as always.

‘I promise I will look into it, my boy’, he said, changing tactic. ‘I did not mean to imply you were making things up. I was simply saying I see no proof Harry is the student we are looking after. Any student could have been out of bed.’

Behind the heavy door Severus sneered, but too quietly for the headmaster to hear. He wondered if it was worth reminding him he was not a student anymore, and should not be spoken to like one. He had eyes and hears, but most importantly, he had instinct: of course it was Potter who had been out of bed after curfew. Out of the few students in the castle, who else?

And something was off. The boy had been near, he had sensed it: and yet, for some reason, he had managed to go back to his dorms without being caught. No matter what Dumbledore said, he could feel he was no stranger to it. The twinkling of his eyes had been slightly different. It had reminded him of Minerva’s gaze after he had confronted her about Potter joining her Quidditch team.

It was not the fact all of this was about Potter that angered him so much. Of course, it made the situation even worst, given who he was and what he symbolised, given he was supposed to keep him safe; but that was not it. What bothered him so deeply, what made breathing so hard was this feeling of vulnerability, the irrational fear twisting his stomach that came straight from the fact another Gryffindor was given the keys to ascendancy. He did not know Potter, and for what mattered, did not think he would ever use it to hurt others; but this meant one thing he could not come to terms with.

None of them understood. None of them had learnt, or payed attention, to the damages such preferential treatment could cause, and they would do it again, whenever they saw fit.

And he could not stand it. He felt like a student again, his protests constantly dismissed, his concerns labelled as partiality. Tonight was only one more example, one more instance, and he was certain neither Minerva or Albus understood the consequences this would have on his House when the Slytherins realised, now more plainly than ever, how prejudiced the school system was.

Another Gryffindor and his little friends to whom rules did not apply. His Slytherins would be angry. He felt terrified, even if he did not dare to examine his feelings more closely. And Albus who did not understand. Albus who lied, and tried to find compromises, who never would acknowledge how wrong things were.

Tonight he was furious, but he supposed, in a few days all would be forgotten, because he was nothing without the both of them, and perhaps they knew it unconsciously. He felt like a coward, but what he should have realised was that he was trapped, not weak: he was trapped into making this choice over and over again, to remain sane.

He listened to the headmaster’s distant footsteps as he finally went away, leaving him to enjoy the heavy silence that had settled in the castle.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Thank Merlin. Albus had been right: he would brew all night to calm his nerves.

He slowly opened the door. On the floor was a large brown box wrapped with red ribbon. He picked it up, trying hard not to sigh again: inside was a colourful set of Christmas cookies the headmaster had certainly baked himself, given the clumsily applied frosting. He put them down on the living room’s table.

Would they taste bitter if he tried one now?

#something a little different #didn't want to write about food #always wondered how he confronted Albus about it #snapemas2020 #snapemas #severus snape #Albus Dumbledore #WHY did he give Harry the cloak honestly it makes me furious too #snapedom #pro snape

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lire-casander · 3 years

Text

if hurting wounds would mend (never left that place inside my head)

[teen and up audiences] [title from northern lights by elias] [fluff, angst, mentions of a coma, mentions of seizures, mentions of hospitals] [written for @flufftober2021 day #14: slow dancing]

chapter #13 | on ao3

[1000 words]

Wilhelm finds himself with a handful of Simon, in the middle of a dance floor, swaying to a tune that was a hit the year Erik was born.

He only knows that because Erik keeps repeating that fact over and over, in his alcohol-induced haze that's now reaching a peak, as he circles around them with Miranda off his arm.

Wilhelm is confused about this setting. He's known for a while — maybe for ever — that there was something terribly unsettling going on. But it hasn't been until now that he's got confirmation that something is, effectively, deeply wrong.

He remembers being in a hospital bed and Simon telling him that he didn't know who Erik was. Wilhelm thinks it was yesterday, maybe the day before that. And now he is in this dance floor, presumably at the Palace, with Erik shouting along with the lyrics and Simon scoffing every now and then, with no memories of having left the hospital — or of even having been there to start with.

His head feels dizzy.

"I think I need a break," he mutters, trying to escape Simon’s grip on his neck, which only turns more vicious as Wilhelm attempts to move away. "Simon."

"This is our song," Simon says in a matter-of-factly voice, as the music turns to something slow and sweet. "You can't leave during our song."

Wilhelm blinks at the sudden and unexpected surge of irrational fear that courses through his veins. Simon has never sounded authoritative or demanding before. He'd asked for space after the video leaked, but they'd fixed that without having to resort to whatever this is.

Only Wilhelm isn't so sure of anything anymore.

Weirdly enough, he spots Felice by the far side of the floor, and maneuvers Simon towards her. She's eyeing at him with a weird look. When they're close enough, Felice speaks up, "May I have this dance, Your Highness?"

Simon glances up at her, and he must see something in her eyes because he nudges Wilhelm towards her. Everything about this exchange screams wrong to him, but he goes willingly, trading Simon’s arms for Felice’s.

“Wille,” Felice whispers, urgently. “Wille, you need to wake up.”

“I’m very much awake, Felice,” he tries to reason with her, but his friend keeps looking somewhere over his shoulder, feigning indifference as he guides them over the dance floor. “Have you heard me? I’m awake.”

“You think you are, Wille,” she insists. “But you aren’t. I don’t know how to explain it to you. You need to open your eyes for real. Everything’s fake, can’t you see it?”

He’s hit with a wave of nausea, a shrill sound cutting through his brain, loud, loud, louder, until all he can hear is a mix between the sound, Felice’s voice and a litany of words that sound eerily familiar.

Everything in the world is fake. The grass on the football field isn’t even grass. All the people are fake. But I like you, and that is not fake.

The shrilling in his ears increases tenfold.

Kristina is taken aback by the sight her son is presenting when she sets foot back into the room, Ludvig following close.

Wilhelm is seizing on the bed, the machines going crazy, and Felice’s hand is limp on top of the white sheets, a horrified look upon her face as she takes in the scene before her eyes.

“Sweetie, come here,” Kristina manages to blurt out, helping Felice up and taking her away from the bed as an army of doctors and nurses barge into the room. There’s very little time for them to react before they’re being ushered back outside of the room, left to wait among their bodyguards in a darkened corridor.

Kristina’s never felt more scared in her life — with the exception of that fateful day when another call from a different hospital upheaved her whole world and put her in the difficult position of having to be a Queen before being a mother, once again.

She hopes it isn’t too late. She wishes she’d have had more time; she wishes she could have told them how much Wilhelm needs Simon despite his current state — or maybe because of it. She would have begged.

Instead, she’s fled the house without even looking back.

Felice turns in Kristina’s arms, hiding her face in Kristina’s neck, and it’s all the Queen can do not to flinch away. It’s been way too long since anyone has felt enough at ease in her presence to behave this way — hugs and general public displays of affection have been discouraged from a very early age in both her life and her sons’ lives. The Crown is set in stone, and so are the feelings of its members.

It still feels good to be able to find solace in comforting someone who needs it.

Ludvig places a hand on her shoulder, an evident question in the way his fingers squeeze her skin, and she nods. It’s only then that Ludvig takes a step forward and hugs her from behind — just like when they were young and pretending to be dating, way before they didn’t have to pretend any longer. His warmth engulfs both Kristina and Felice.

One of the doctors gets out of the room and signals for them to follow him to a secluded corner.

Kristina doesn’t really understand half of what he’s saying, white noise clouding her senses, but she can make out a sudden change in his situation. No one had expected this turn of events.

The doctor is telling them to get ready to say goodbye.

She can’t stand it.

Her knees almost give out, but Ludvig is there to catch her. He holds her tight as he watches over her head, most likely nodding to Felice and saying something Kristina doesn’t understand.

When she can focus again, through the pain that’s now laced forever in her soul, Felice’s talking on the phone.

“You need to come. Wille might be—he might—please come. They're sending a car your way.”

#flufftober2021 #day 14: slow dancing #if hurting wounds would mend (never left that place inside my head)#wilmon #wilmon fic #wilmon fiction #young royals #young royals fic #young royals fiction

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jenovahh · 3 years

Text

The Honey Pot - Ch. 26 - Irrational

“Oh thank the Twelve, you’re coming to.”

Blinking your eyes, you feel like you’ve been floating in space and have finally come down to earth, your limbs feeling heavy after being suspended in zero-gravity. You’ve been passing out too much lately you think, circumstances be damned.

Milky eyes that belong to a powdery face come into focus, Merlwyb the picture of worry as she calls for a doctor to check on your condition.

“Chief Merlwyb?” you cough, a glass of water held in front of you before you can even ask, Merlwyb slipping a straw inside and gently holding it towards your face. Mumbling a word of thanks, you take a sip, the water refreshing and quenching as you nearly down the whole cup until Merlwyb draws it away.

“I think you should slow it down. From what I understand, they were having to reintroduce you to food.” Merlwyb murmurs, setting the cup down on a nearby nightstand. Taking a look around you’re back in the same makeshift sick room within Cid’s mansion, IV hooked up to your arm as it pumps you full of whatever is in the bag attached to it. The doctor shows up soon enough, giving you a quick once over as she makes sure you’re on the mend.

As the doctor asks you a few questions, you notice Merlwyb looking incredibly guilty, wondering if she really feels so bad you had gotten captured. Surely she can’t be beating herself up over that?

“And if I may ask,” the doctor begins but Merlwyb holds up a hand gently.

“If it is alright with you doctor, I would like to speak to my officer about this alone.” Merlwyb interrupts, the doctor giving a nod of understanding, saying nothing more as she exits the room. Turning to you, Merlwyb’s fists are clenched tightly in her lap, and you get too worried to keep your peace.

“Is everything okay?” you ask with a broken laugh. “I mean, I know it was scary, Varis locking me up, but I’m okay. I’m okay.” You grin, reaching out to try to console her but she jerks away. “Chief,”

“Do not call me that.” She bites out, the harshness of her voice shocking you. A little hurt, you begin to question what you could’ve done to warrant such a flip in her attitude, until you see she is shaking with unshed tears, liquid pooling in the corners of her eyes as she finally gains the will to meet you eye to eye. “Do not refer to me with such respect after I’ve failed you so catastrophically.”

Confused, you shift to try and sit up a little better. “Chief Merlwyb, what do you mean? I thought we went over all the risks at the start! We knew that this would be a dangerous job,”

“The job would be dangerous, yes! But never would I have made you become pregnant with that bastard’s child!” She cries, tears finally running down her face. You sit in perfect stillness, unsure what to say. Faced with the reality of having to explain that you were not only pregnant with Zenos’ child, but that you didn’t even feel bad about it. When Varis had revealed that same fact to you, you didn’t even care.

“We sent you to simply try and catch his son in the act. To give us any kind of proof of illegal activity. Only to realize too late we had put you in that monster’s hands!” Merlwyb sobs, clutching your hands within her own. “When I had said that you must protect the mission at any cost, I never meant that you had to bear Varis’ child. That you would have to accept him forcing himself upon you.”

Eyes widening as you see the cause of her grief, you fumble to try and find your right words. “Chief, I...did the doctor,”

“The only one that knows is myself and Cid. Cid is busy preparing other avenues to try and handle Varis.” Merlwyb grumbles, over the worst of her crying. “He was appalled to learn of this, he had--”

“Please, please, stop right there.” You groan, sick at the thought of if things really had gotten to where they assumed they had. Taking a deep breath, you fix Merlwyb with a guilty look of your own. “Never would I have guessed the famed Annihilator to be a crier.” You joke weakly, watching as she seems to lighten the tiniest bit.

“Strong I may be, but I am not immune to the suffering of my officers.” She sniffs, rubbing your hands with her larger ones.

Looking at your hands joined together in your lap, you struggle on what to say next. “While I’m...glad you feel such concern with me...things didn’t get that far. Not with Varis.”

Brows furrowing, Merlwyb shifts closer to you in her seat. “What do you mean?”

Breathing deeply, you try to get everything out in one breath. “I will not deny it. What led to me being locked away was actually due to Varis trying to force himself on me.” Saying it nearly makes you throw up, tilting your head back as you take calming breaths. “He had drugged me with a substance mixed with aether rendering me unable to move. If his right hand man hadn’t shown up when he did...then he would have--” You nearly throw up again, having to keep the bile down as your body breaks out in a cold sweat.

“You don’t have to talk about this.” Merlwyb consoles, rubbing your back gently.

“No. Because I need to...I need to explain.” You sigh, feeling weary already. “What I’m trying to say is, Varis only tried to force himself on me before he locked me away. And...if my math is right, I should be a month or two along.” Placing a hand on your stomach, you rub it gently. “It’s not his.”

A mix of relief and worry passes through Merlwyb’s face, standing to her feet. “Thank the Twelve it isn’t so. I must tell Cid,”

“It’s Zenos’.” you cut off before she can even leave your side.

She stops in place immediately, shocked by your words as much as you are having said them. To put out in the universe you are carrying the child of someone you once thought a monster.

“Honey…” she whispers, sitting by your side once more. “Honey, did he,”

Shaking your head furiously, you refuse to meet her surely judgemental gaze. “No. I...it was consensual. Multiple times. I…” swallowing your fear, you press on. “I was so stressed from working for Varis, my health suffered. I stopped taking supplements, vitamins, and my birth control. I had met with Zenos that day when Raubahn died and one thing led to another.”

As tears leak from your eyes as you finally give voice to your shame, you still cannot bear to face her scorn. “I tried to hate him. I tried to hate him for so long, but he…” you sob, wiping furiously at your tears, “he’s the only one that understands me. The only one who’s strong enough, the only one who makes me happy. I didn’t even blink when Varis told me I was pregnant with his kid, I didn’t even feel sad. How fucked up am I for falling for him?!” You laugh, the sound broken and mangled. “I’m a failure to the mission, Raubahn would be ashamed--”

Merlwyb crushes you in her arms, ceasing your downward spiral. She says nothing, merely holding you tightly as your tears catch in her shirt, clutching you tight as she buries her face in your hair. “Honey...no matter what I better not hear such self deprecating language from you ever again.” She whispers, stroking your head softly. “Raubahn would be proud. You’ve survived. You are alive. And that’s all we ever wanted. For you to come home.”

“But I--”

“No ‘buts’.” She interjects, pulling away to give you the stern look you had known her for. “Not to throw him under the bus, but Cid had already filled me in on your entanglement with his bodyguard and Zenos respectively. I can’t lie that at first I was alarmed, but when he recounted all the trauma he had known you had gone through, how he could see you warp and change...I could not think to hold it against you. And neither would Raubahn.”

You weep thankful tears at her words, a weight lifted from your shoulders at her comfort. You embrace each other once more, wrapping yourself in the comfort of simply being held, knowing you both have been through the wringer these past few days.

Merlwyb notices your eyes begin to droop, promising to see you again when you wake up next. She would go off to find Cid and relay what you had told her in a calmer, less emotional fashion, sparing you the risk of potentially triggering yourself. You allow yourself a few more hours rest, drifting thoughtlessly as you have the most restful sleep you had in what had apparently been weeks.

Two weeks had Varis managed to stow you away, Cid and Merlwyb knowing something was wrong when they hadn’t heard hide or hair of you in two days. The phone Cid had given you had been confiscated and destroyed, giving them no idea on how to find you. They had been sick with worry with no way to find out what happened until Zenos had showed up on Cid’s doorstep in the dead of night, demanding that you be saved. Cid had immediately called for his personal doctor to begin treating you, bringing you to the present.

Even while you rest, your thoughts are too tumultuous to let you sleep long, the steady drip of your IV and the light buzz of the alarm clock on your nightstand your only companions when you wake. It is a few hours past midnight, the mansion quiet, but in a good way unlike the Galvus estate. There’s just enough white noise in the halls that gives a comfortable ambience, a home that is lived in, prompting you to drag yourself out of bed and into some slippers to walk a bit to maybe tire your mind a bit to go back to sleep.

Forced to drag your IV pump around with you, you shuffle down the hall, enjoying the peace as you let your feet aimlessly wander. Though you know Cid was prone to all nighters if he was knee deep in a project, something tells you he’s fast asleep. Making your way downstairs you enjoy the calm of his mansion at night, slipping past the many doors as you struggle to not bump your shin into any unsuspecting furniture.

As you pass through the living room, you hear grunting, looking through one of the many floor to ceiling windows to spot Zenos outside, running through his practice routines. His golden hair now looks to be made of spun ivory under the moonlight, muscles flexing with every movement as he swings his sword through the air. Each strike is precise, measured as he hones his skill, a fierce determination on his face as he snarls his frustration.

Heading to the sliding door, you gently push it open, the warm night air soothing you instantly as you stand in the doorway, watching him quietly. You’re surprised he’s yet to notice your presence, too focused on whatever he’s thinking about to catch you watching him. Leaning against the doorframe, you’re content to watch how his body flows effortlessly through each stance, dressed in his usual workout attire, clinging to him like a second skin.

It is only when he spins does he take note of you at the door, uncharacteristically startled before a shadow of guilt darkens his features. Frowning, you move to join him in the yard only for him to give you a look that promises retribution if you move from your spot at the door. “What are you doing here?”

Tutting, you stand up straight. “From what I heard, you brought me here.”

“That’s not what I,” he pauses, turning away from you for a moment. “I meant what are you doing outside? You should be inside, resting.”

“I was trying,” you grumble, stepping out onto the manicured grass, dragging the IV pump along uneven ground. He turns to you once more, unable to meet your eyes. “I couldn’t sleep, probably because I had spent the past two weeks being made to sleep. My body’s quite sick of it, I think.” You joke lightly, coming to stand before him.

He still won’t meet your gaze, which is strange in and of itself. Creeping closer, he shifts away and you frown, trying to peek under his fringe of hair. “Zenos? What’s the matter?” you ask, reaching out for his hand but he jerks it away.

“What do you want?” he snarls, eyes furious. Though you begin to get angry, you take a step back and look at the situation. Though your memories are hazy, you can remember his desperation to get you out of that facility. His worry at seeing you look so frail and weak. The guilt you had seen once he had realized you were there--

He was scared.

Lowering yourself to the ground, you can’t help but laugh a little at how he casts his sword to the ground while reaching to catch you in the same motion, uncaring of where his blade ends up. “I’m not dying, Zenos. I’m not falling apart.” you sigh wistfully, motioning to the ground for him to sit next to you.

Pursing his lips, he seems to debate between picking you up and carrying you back inside, versus giving into your whims. “You’ve not seen the horrors of my father’s experiments.” He answers instead, lowering himself to the cool grass to your side, one knee bent with the other leg extended before him. You relish in his slight intake of breath as you shuffle to be closer to him, leaning upon his warmth. It’s not too cool out, but the furnace that is his body isn’t unpleasant. “But I suppose for that, I am thankful.”

“I’ve not. And I’m glad I didn’t.” you murmur, relaxing immediately from his presence alone.

The two of you are quiet, Zenos stiff as if he does not know what to do with this nearness from you. “I...I’m glad I had found you in the condition I had. I had feared the worst.” he admits, which coming from him, is no small feat.

Gazing up at the moon, you rest your weight fully upon him, his arm naturally coming to support you and hold you close, almost as if on instinct. His hand seems unsure where to place itself, so you help by gently coaxing it to sling around your waist, linking your fingers with his. “He had told me so many horrible things. He told me how awfully he would treat you.” you murmur, satisfied to stay just like this.

“What did he tell you?”

His voice is guarded, cornered. Scared.

“He told me...that he forced himself on your mother.” You answer, unable to look him in the face.

He tenses then, skin heating before you tighten your grip on his hand, hearing his deep breaths behind you as he calms himself down. “The story the public knows is that my mother passed away due to sickness. Only a select few know the truth.” His voice is far away, distant, as if lost within a nightmare. “After all, it’s not really palatable to have it leak out that your father had threatened to have your mother killed if she tried to run. That when she felt she had no option left, she had killed herself.”

Gasping, you turn in his arms to look at him, finding nothing but an emotionless gaze staring back. You can see the truth in his eyes, a pain so guarded and so deep that you wonder if this is the first time he’s told anyone else. “Zenos,”

“After all, wouldn’t you do the same? Would you not burst into hysterics upon looking at the child you not only had forced upon you, but were also forced to bear?” he laughs humorlessly, as if the joke is tired and worn out, the punchline having lost its kick.

You wonder if he can hear your heart breaking.

“Zenos,” you whisper carefully, reaching with both hands to cup his face, feeling its warmth but a cold expression is all you get in return.

“I do not need your pity.” he snips, though he makes no move to push you away. “I’ve had my share of it. And for what? It would not bring my mother back. Not that she would want to stay anyway. Not when she gave birth to a monster.”

Tears pool in your eyes at his words, wondering how much he had of this locked up inside, and for how long?

How long had he not known love?

One of his hands reaches up to dab at a tear trailing down your cheek, frowning as he does so. “Why do you cry? I told you I didn’t want your pity.”

“I’m crying for you.” You murmur, turning in his hold to be on your knees, crowding closer to where he parts his legs more to give you room to sit between them. “Because you’ve not had the chance to do it for yourself.”

His lips part at that, emotions of all kinds warring on his face before he settles on anger. “You are a fool if you think that would change things.”

“I’m not trying to change things you idiot!” you whisper harshly, not wanting to yell and potentially wake anyone up. “You come and save me from being experimented upon by your father until I die and you don’t want me to show you I’m at least a little grateful? When I had started to believe that no one would come for me and you carried me out in your arms?”

“Sweet words won’t excuse your cowardice.” he growls, trying to pull away. “That even after you apologized, you had gone running back into my father’s arms.”

“For you!” You snap, clutching his face desperately.

Confused, he shakes his head. “What do you--”

“You think I would go back to the asshole willingly?” you seethe, begging him to understand. “That me, a cop, would want anything to do with his desire to be a dictator? To remember the good ole days of imperial rule?” Despite your earlier reservations, you raise your voice with every question. “Do you know how much it hurt to be apart from you? To see the betrayal in your eyes as I left your side for no other reason than to try and take your father down so you would be free from his influence? To fall for you--”

Your words catch in your throat, unable to take them back. The two of you only stare at one another, wide eyed and frozen as your unsaid words hang between you, wishing you could simply disappear. Zenos is solid as a board and your heart sinks, releasing his face as you begin to stand. “I should get back inside,”

He pulls you back to him forcefully, not letting you flee back to the safety of your room. You try to tug away but you’re still too weak to fight against his might, huffing and puffing for him to release you as you try to run from the shame of your actions. “Let go of me,” you whine, resisting his touch as he wraps his arm around you like a vice, refusing to let you go anywhere.

The rough pads of his fingers urge you to face him as you squirm in his arms, not wanting to face him, to face your feelings. “Honey.” He breathes, finally getting you at a suitable angle to press his lips to yours, ashamed at how easily you melt in his arms. He deepens the kiss, full of all the passion, the emotion you now know he’s capable of, threading his fingers into your hair as you rest your hands upon his chest before looping around his shoulders.

The kiss is all passion, all affection, all possession as your tongues dance together, as teeth nibble each other's lips, as you breathe each other's air. You fall into him just as easily as you did the first time, wondering how on earth did you get here? It is only when he feels you crying again does he pull apart, dabbing gently at your tears with an indescribable emotion upon his angelic features.

“You would run because you’re afraid of what you feel for me?” he asks, holding you as if you were made of the most delicate glass. The same man who had no problem flipping you over his back, grappling you like a wrestler, was now cradling you as if you were the most important thing in the world to him. “I have never run from how I feel for you, even if I cannot understand it. I have only wanted you. It can only be you.”

“You don’t get it!” You sob, pounding your fists on his chest. “I love you, you idiot! I was sent to try and take you and your father down and look where I am! I fell for you instead, I’m having your ch--” you stop yourself once again, afraid of what he would possibly think.

“I do not know love but I do know I would have no other. Is that not good enough?” he asks, desperate to understand, and Twelve above you wish he did. Perhaps he loves you in his own way, but there’s so much of him that needs healing, so many bad habits he needs to break before you could truly be by his side. It occurs to you only now that you looked at him through rose-tinted glasses, seeing nothing but the happiness he brought you, and you alone.

A child brings new questions into the mix.

Would he treat the child the same way he treated you? Would he fall into the bad habits of his father, having no good example of how to be a parent? Continuing a cycle of abuse because he had never known love? Would he train that child for the sole purpose of becoming stronger, unsatisfied until either of them fell in battle?

Deep down you knew you were being foolish, but fear overcame reason as you kept your eyes shut tight, crying against his chest as he held you. It was such an irrational fear, one you were completely self aware of, but that did not stop you from crying, nor did it stop you from falling into his embrace as he kissed you once more.

You are no stranger to Zenos’ touch, though you are a stranger to how gently he treats you as you recover from being detained by Varis. Only with your permission do you allow him to visit, except visitation is not satisfactory. He all but moves into your room, seeing to your needs during the day until he goes about his own business before returning to you at night. He’s always there to bring you your meals, sitting in comfortable silence or making light conversation, making you remember just how much you loved him, until he reminded you just how much you needed to run away when this was all over.

You only wish he knew how hard he was making it for you.

There wasn’t a need of yours that wasn’t seen to by Zenos personally. Whatever you wanted to eat, he went and got it. If you wanted to walk around, he was the one to pull your IV pump along, leaving you free to simply stretch your legs. From fluffing your pillow to simply being a warm body to hold at night, there was nothing he would not do for your sake.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

As you recuperated and strength once again flowed through your limbs, he turned into your physical therapist, helping you stretch your muscles and make you limber enough to fight again. He would only spar lightly at your request, making you feign exhaustion so he didn’t feel angry for making himself hold back. Naturally you made sure to avoid all blows to your abdominal area, flowing like water around his strikes, taking a more defensive approach, which you thought would make him angry.

It had the opposite effect. It seemed to only make him want you more, pursuing you like a man possessed, fucking you into the floor until your voice was hoarse from crying out his name.

This is how I got here in the first place, you grumble to yourself, walking with him to meet up with Cid and Merlwyb on another part of the estate. There was hardly a day he was not by your side, something you did not mind after spending so long apart, but you began to think it strange considering the circumstances. Varis had to be wondering where he was. But if Zenos was not worried, you figured you shouldn’t be either.

Reaching the conference room turned “briefing room”, you give a small wave to Cid and Merlwyb who greet you in return. “You’re looking better by the day, Honey. I’m glad to see you’re making a recovery.” Cid welcomes, standing from his chair to come give you a hug. You return it with equal measure, glad to have people on your side. “Please sit. We haven’t been waiting long.”

Nodding, you pull a chair out from the table, not at all surprised as Zenos takes a seat in the one directly next to you. “I’m sorry to delay everything for so long.”

“Your recovery was paramount, Honey.” Merlwyb speaks up, giving you a serious look. “You have shouldered so much of this upon your back. There is no way we could ask you to put your life on the line anymore than we already have.”

“But I want to. I want to take him down.” You insist, refusing to take no for an answer. Merlwyb looks ready to argue but Cid quickly interjects, physically leaning between the two of you.

“Easy there, ladies. We’ve got a common goal, and let’s just look at the facts before we start making plans.” Cid offers in the interest of neutrality, slowly sitting back down in his chair. “We’ve got quite a bit of information to catch Honey up on anyway.” He sighs, reaching for a remote and turning on the mounted TV. The screen is paused with Varis’ face on it, a news ticker reading “Varis Unveils Revolutionary Technology”, your heart immediately sinking.

“This has been on the news for nearly two weeks. Yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking. Varis has revealed his ‘discovery’ of aether upon your capture.” Cid grounds out, clicking on the remote to start the clip. It is silent, but the clip continues to play, allowing Cid to speak. “It’s been a nightmare since. I’ve been called by more news outlets than I care to remember asking for my response.”

Sadness creeps into his features as he watches the TV with a forlorn expression. “As I had told you, my father’s laboratory had burned down, leaving me with no physical proof that it was he who originally discovered aether. All I have is my word against his ‘proof’.” Banging his fist against the table, he runs his hands through his hair. “It’s infuriating.”

Clicking the remote a different press conference plays on the TV, Varis showing off different bits of technology powered by aether. "He's got the public in the palm of his hand. Everyone's dazzled by the power of aether, but of course only we know the truth. We know that aether is not to be messed with, that it is dangerous and more powerful than we could possibly comprehend." Cid explains, tapping his fingers against the table. "I've considered trying to make my own sample, to show what a volatile resource it is…"

"We already discussed this Cid. Absolutely not." Merlwyb interjects. Their interaction comes as a slight surprise. Merlwyb was Cid’s senior by barely a decade, but within the past month they became fast friends. "Varis has already tried to take your life once and is already so sure of his victory that he's content to leave you alone for now. Let's not give him reason to try and take you out."

Nodding grimly, Cid turns back to you. "As you can see, we've got our hands tied. Varis is, if anything thorough, making it hard to plan any sort of move. We're running out of time."

Gnawing your lip, you find yourself focusing on what Merlwyb had said. "If...do you think he would try and target Lord Hien?" The room is completely silent, and you don’t know if it’s because they find the notion preposterous, or they wonder how the thought has never crossed their mind. “I mean, clearly Varis has to think he’s nigh untouchable now. He’s attempted to kill Cid once without facing any consequences. He successfully killed Raubahn and forced Merlwyb into hiding. Don’t you think…?”

Cid drags his hands over his face, heaving out a dry laugh. “Nymeia save me, I think you might be onto something.”

“But Cid, why would he need to kill Hien? The election is so close, he’s already done so much to make himself look like the ideal candidate. What more could killing Hien do for him?” Merlwyb questions, posing some good points.

“An easy win.”

The three of you turn to Zenos who has remained uncharacteristically quiet this entire exchange. “Honey has been around my father long enough by now to understand how he thinks. However, as his son,” he grounds out, “I have intimate knowledge of how his mind works.” Shifting in his seat, he sighs. “Before he had stopped telling me of his plans, he thought himself untouchable; he had evaded you all for decades.” He explains, looking pointedly at Merlwyb before his gaze shifts to Cid. “And the only one who could ever bring any evidence against him had no physical proof, nor the courage to say anything.”

Giving a frustrated sigh, Cid turns once again to the TV. “I can’t deny that. My own cowardice has allowed this to go on for as long as it has.” Cid murmurs, fidgeting with the remote in his hand.

“And if he were to kill Hien, who could stop him?” Zenos asks, glancing around the table. “The Chief has been killed, and the only other ‘good cop’ remains hidden for her own safety. Who is next in command to take Raubahn Aldynn’s place?”

You gasp, turning to Zenos. “Ilberd.”

Shrugging, the heir goes back to looking bored once again. “With his longtime supporter at the head of police, it would be no problem to have Hien’s death look like nothing more than an accident even if he shot him point blank on national television.”

“Twelve above…” Merlwyb whispers, burying her face in her hand. “Decades worth of planning. Decades worth of moves. I had always suspected Ilberd, but on this large a scale…” Gasping, her eyes widened in horror. “By the Twelve, he has the entire police force under his control. If he wins the seat, he would have an entire army--”

The room is silent once again, the three of you processing the scope of Varis’ plans. When he boasted of his intellect, you had thought little of it, knowing that like any businessman he was educated, but to be so thorough, to make the right connections, to plan this far ahead…

Clenching your fist, you stand to your feet. “We have to save Lord Hien.”

“I don’t disagree, but--”

“But what, Chief Merlwyb? I refuse to have another person die because of that bastard!” Your chest is heaving, Cid looking surprised at your outburst while Merlwyb maintains her composure, giving you a knowing look.

“Honey, please calm down.” She urges, reaching across the table to place her hand atop of your own. Something silent passes between the two of you and you take a few calming breaths, sitting back in your seat. “If you will allow me to finish, what I was trying to say is that this is not something we can go into guns blazing. We are dealing with a man who knows how to run circles around the law; this I know well. We will have to make a plan that is fool proof and draws no attention to us.” Her eyes turn to the heir sitting by your side. “Especially now that we’ve got his son on our side.”

At that Zenos fixes Merlwyb with a hot glare. “And where did you get the notion that I would be assisting you in any way, shape, or form?” Zenos asks, his voice even and neutral, but you can see the rage within his eyes.

“If you are not helping us, then why have you stayed here, Zenos?” Cid asks sternly.

“Is it not obvious?” Zenos scoffs, eyes upon you. “My only focus has been, and always will be Honey. But even then…” Something haunting passes through his eyes, seeming far away before coming back to the present. “...even then I could not aid you. I cannot go against my father, but I will no longer aid him either.” Standing to his feet, he prepares to leave but you snag his hand, giving him a pleading look.

“Zenos...I,” you begin, unsure what to say. “We could use your help.”

Shaking his head, he tugs his hand free and continues on his way, saying nothing else. Your heart breaks that much more to see him go.

Stewing in your thoughts a bit, you find yourself a bit hurt at Zenos’ refusal to take down his father, but try to think about it calmly. Given what he revealed to you, that his own mother did not want him, saw him as a monster, who knows what psychological damage had been done to him to make him unwilling to raise a hand against his father?

You’d make a point to ask him about it later, but for the time being, you needed to make a plan. “We’ll have to carry on without Zenos. He’s not against us, which is almost the same as being on our side. Trust me...if Zenos did truly serve his father and Varis had kept me hidden, the only being who can take Zenos down, Varis truly would be unstoppable.” Cid and Merlwyb nod grimly at your words, having no other choice. “Do we have any way of contacting Lord Hien?”

“I have his number due to working with him for the...rally. The only problem is he’s surely seen my funeral and thinks me dead.” Merlwyb answers, flipping through her phone.

“In that case, perhaps Cid can give a call, especially since he has the technology to make sure it isn’t tampered with.” You direct, having taken the lead. “We’ll call Lord Hien and apprise him of as much information as we can. If I have to go in and make the rescue myself, then so be it.”

“Absolutely not.” Cid interjects, eyebrows pinched together. “I will not have you shouldering this entire operation again. Besides, if you’re not familiar with Lord Hien, he’s got an excellent shadow of his own I hear. Yugiri, I believe her name is. What she lacks in your sheer strength she more than makes up for in stealth. In fact, she just might be our ticket to get Lord Hien to safety.”

Unfortunately, Lord Hien has other plans.

Cid contacts Hien as promised, relaying as much information in as little time as possible. Lord Hien expresses his concern and guilt for the recent happenings, and due to the credibility of your accusations, hears you out.

However, he will not escape.

“But Lord Hien,”

The three of you are seated in the same conference room, staring at the TV screen where current Kugane Prime Minister, Lord Hien sits staring back.

“I understand your concern, Mr. Garlond,” Hien pauses, handsome face deadly serious. “But this would be a terrible time to abandon the public. I would go as far to say that my sudden disappearance would only usher Varis into his seat faster.”

Biting your lip, you can’t deny he’s right, but still you worry. “But we can’t let him get to you either!”

“Do not worry for me, my friends.” Hien smiles, as if all will be well. “I did not say I won’t take safety measures. I will remain out of the public eye, and stay hidden with those who I know are loyal to me. These past few years as Prime Minister have allowed me the opportunity to gain many allies.” Hien explains calmly, pausing to take a sip of water. “This will also allow me to help you behind the scenes as well.”

“While we appreciate your aid, Lord Hien, this entire operation is contingent on you living. Will you not reconsider coming into our custody where we know we can protect you?” Merlwyb asks, sounding as strong as ever.

“The operation does not revolve around me, my friends. It revolves around Varis atoning for the crimes he has committed against the people.” Hien frowns, threading his hands together. “He has murdered civilians he is desperate to rule over. Lied and stolen from his constituents. While Kugane needs a good leader, yes, it does not have to be me.” Smiling, something about him makes you wish you knew that kind of calm. “While I appreciate that you want me to remain in my seat, what matters most is his crimes coming to light and being locked away for what he’s done.”

Unable to argue against that kind of logic, you merely stand from your seat. “I understand. I need a moment of rest, so if you will excuse me.”

Not stopping to hear what anyone has to say, you flee from the room, allowing your feet to carry you anywhere within the estate.

Lord Hien either put too much faith in you, or he was a fool.

His certainty that all would be well, that things would work out, where did it come from? You could see his appeal, a confident, easy going charisma backed by an unwavering sense of justice, of doing right by the people. All the things that Varis lacked, that would make Hien the ideal candidate for Kugane.

But he was right. No matter how ideal he was, what mattered most was making sure Varis did not come into power. Even if it meant Hien somehow died in the process.

It was a tough pill to swallow, that Lord Hien was so okay with being a willing target so long as Varis was brought to justice. It made you feel as if his life was in your hands, a deeper part of you whispering to trust in his words, that he would do his best to keep himself safe.

Coming to a stop to a door leading outside, you step out into warm, summer air, feeling the grass between your toes. Days like these did wonder for your mood, making sure you made a point to keep as much stress off of you as possible. With everything going on, it was hard to do, but Merlwyb had aided in that department, making sure you kept your temper in check for the sake of the child growing inside of you.

The thought of getting rid of it had occurred to you more than once, to simply rid yourself of all the “what ifs” and “maybes” and be done with it. But each time you did, you found yourself weakened by the thought of being able to give your child everything you didn’t have. To raise her with the same love and adoration in which Minfilia had raised you.

When this was all said and done, you would have plenty of time to make your escape. Perhaps you would flee to Eorzea, make a new life and name for yourself there. You doubt Zenos would care enough to spend time to track you down on another continent, making it the ideal place to start anew. You could get a new home. You could find a new job.

You could continue running away from the best thing to ever happen to you.

#FFXIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #zenos #zenos yae galvus #THP

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