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elusivewildflower · 2 years

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Just Another Case | Holland March x Reader

Pairings: Holland March x F! Reader

Summary: You and Holland have been partners for the last year, solving case after ridiculous case together. Even though you’ve been mistaken as a couple countless times while working, the two of you are simply close friends. You might have feelings for him, but you’re sure he doesn’t feel the same. That is, until one particular case comes along on your laundry day, where you’re down to your last piece of clean clothing---a dress and no underwear.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex, the case is about catching a husband cheating. Mostly turns out to be pretty sweet.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve written or posted anything, but I hope I’ll be able to get back on track soon! Work and life has been pretty busy lately. I know in the movie Holland mentions that a “no-fault” law ended a lot of his cases like this, but let’s just say one pops up every now and then. (Because let’s be honest, even if I could divorce with no fault, I’d still like to have proof my spouse is cheating). Thank you to @ninjathrowingstork & another friend for beta-ing this for me! Based on the scene idea I had last week and the request I had sitting in my inbox by @wndawtch.

You press your back against the wall in your kitchen, holding the phone to your ear as your fingers twirl the cord impatiently. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before you cursed under your breath. If he hadn’t answered by the third ring, you knew he wasn’t going to. It rang two more times before you were greeted with the familiar message of Holland’s answering machine.

“You have reached March & Co Investigations. This machine records messages. Wait for the tone and speak clearly.”

The answering machine beeps and you begin speaking.

“Holland, did you forget you’re supposed to be working today? We were scheduled to meet Mrs. Jenkins at noon and you never showed.” You paused, heaving a sigh. “I swear, if you’re fully dressed and asleep in the tub again—“

The other line picked up and Holland’s groggy voice reached your ears, cutting you off. “What’s so bad about sleeping in the tub?”

“Aside from the chance of drowning?” You asked rhetorically before continuing, “because you think that sitting in a tub full of water washes both you and what you’re wearing. Which is so not true, by the way.”

“Oh yeah, says who?” He retorted defiantly.

“I do—and probably a lot of other people if we asked.” You responded quickly, not even waiting for Holland to come up with a response before you began speaking once more. “Get yourself dried off and ready to go. I’ll pick you up in an hour so we can actually start working—I’ve got a lead.”

Holland gave a grumble of agreement and you slammed the receiver back onto the base to hang up. Sometimes you couldn’t understand why you had agreed to be Holland’s partner over a year ago. He had a serious drinking problem and always seemed to get himself into trouble. On the other hand, he was also extremely intelligent—one of the best private investigator’s you had ever seen on his good days—and he was quite attractive. Throw in his sob story about being a single father to a teenage daughter who lost his wife in a house fire and you were hooked.

Not that the two of you had ever crossed over the line of being business partners and friends aside from a few flirtatious remarks, but honestly you wouldn’t mind it. You had grown rather close to the young widower and his daughter, Holly, over the last year. Hell, when Holly started her period a few months ago, she called and told you first before mentioning it to her father. You spent more time at their rental home than at your own, and you honestly lost count of the times people had mistaken you for a couple when you were on a case.

You glanced up at the clock on the wall before heaving a sigh and pushing yourself from the wall you were leaning against to call Holland. There was enough time to start a load of laundry, but it wouldn’t finish drying before you had to leave. As you rounded up the hamper from your bedroom filled to the brim with dirty clothes, you cursed yourself for not waking up earlier in the morning—and also cursed your past self for not doing laundry sooner. You had donned your last piece of clean clothing this morning before meeting Mrs. Jenkins, which was a knee-length floral dress. Its color complimented your skin tone nicely, and the deeply cut neckline made your breasts look fantastic. It wasn't exactly what you'd wear on a normal day of work---unless the day consisted of trying to catch a man cheating on his wife. Which, technically you were, but today's lead included the address of his supposed mistress. You and Holland would simply need to do a bit of a stake out to see if you could catch Mrs. Jenkins' husband coming or going from the property, and the dress was definitely not needed.

Before you knew it, an hour had ticked by. You grabbed your purse, slid your heels back on, and locked the door behind you as you exited your house. You told Holland you’d pick him up in an hour, but you only lived a few streets away and he was never ready on time, so you didn’t care that you were late. Honestly, you weren’t the best with time management either, so you were thankful you had a partner that ran late. A few minutes later, and you were pulling into March's driveway, honking your horn to announce your arrival.

About ten minutes later, Holland finally emerges from his home, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. As he climbs into the passenger seat he glances over at you, doing a double take as he realizes what you’re wearing. “What bar or club are we going to?” He questions curiously.

You shake your head as you reverse out of his driveway. “We’re not going to a bar or club.”

Holland’s brows furrowed in confusion as he ashes his cigarette out the window. “But you’re wearing the dress.”

You should have known he’d recognize the dress. “I have the address to the alleged mistress, we don’t need to go to a bar. We’re gonna do a stake out.” You explained.

Holland still seemed confused, a frown forming on his face as he eyed you over. “What, do you have a hot date after this or something?”

He was clearly not letting this go, and did he seem a bit upset at the thought of you having a hot date? You had to be imagining that.

“No, no hot date. I just felt like wearing a dress,” You gave a shrug as you lied. After criticizing his method of laundry—the thought of sitting fully dressed in a tub still made you shudder—you didn’t feel like admitting that you didn’t have anything else clean.

Holland must’ve believed you, because he stopped badgering you with questions about it. He did, however, start asking about the case. You spent the rest of the drive filling him in on the details he missed when he overslept the meeting you had with your client.

As you pulled off to the side of the road to park, your heart dropped to your stomach. Your client neglected to mention that the mistress’s house had a seven-foot tall fence all of the way around and a gated driveway. You could feel Holland’s eyes boring into the side of your head. Ignoring him, you grabbed the binoculars from the back seats and simply exited the car. You walked up to the gate at the driveway, double checking that you had the right address. Your shoulders slumped when you realized that you were at the correct address. This was going to make capturing photos for proof of his cheating more difficult.

You heard the passenger side door slam shut as Holland joined you. “Well, this is great.” He deadpanned, placing his hands upon his hips as he surveyed the fence.

You sighed, nodding your head in agreement. “Yep.”

A moment of silence passed between you until Holland broke it with a click of his tongue. “Alright, come on. I’ve got an idea.” He ushered, moving to kneel down beside the fence.

Your brows furrowed as you watched him, unsure of what he was planning.

He noticed your look of confusion and sighed, beckoning you closer. “Come on, I’m gonna lift you up there.”

“What?” The question tumbled out of your lips before you realized it, your heart rate rising as fear coursed through you. Holland wasn’t exactly the strongest man in the world, and he tended to be clumsy. You trusted him with a lot of things, but being capable of not dropping you wasn’t one of them. Not to mention that you ran out of clean underwear this morning and were currently going commando under your dress. You swore to yourself that this was the last time you’d ever wait so long to wash clothes.

“Well, I don’t see you lifting me, and someone needs to be able to see over the fence.” He explained as if his idea made perfect sense. Which, in fairness, it did. Except for the two things you were currently worried about; Holland dropping you and seeing up your dress.

You remained still for a few more moments, your feet refusing to move from where you stood as you mulled over your options—or lack thereof.

Holland rolled his eyes at you as he grew impatient. “Oh, come on.” He beckoned you again, “before someone sees us!”

Taking a deep breath, you finally agreed. “Fine,” you began, “But do not look up my dress, Holland.” You warned him sternly, pointing a finger at him.

Holland looked insulted. “Why would I look up your dress?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your finger now wagging at him. “Because I know you.”

Holland raised his hands in surrender, dropping his insulted act. “Alright, alright, I won’t look up your dress.”

Appeased by his answer, you close the distance between you. Holland laces his fingers together, giving you a spot to place your foot. You hold onto his shoulder as you step into his hands, and he lifts you up as he moves to stand. He lifts you a bit too high too fast and you’re suddenly scrambling to grab hold of the fence so you don’t fall.

“Jesus! Not that high!” You scold him as you struggle to find your balance.

Holland mutters out an apology and lowers you slightly.

Leaning yourself against the fence, you raise your binoculars to your eyes. You scan the windows of the house, starting with the first floor. Disappointment flooded your veins as you were coming up empty-handed, that is until you panned to the last window on the second floor. A nude woman was pressed against the window getting railed from behind. You couldn’t tell by who, but you assumed it was your client’s husband. You let out a gasp. Jesus Christ. That must be nice. Just as you opened your mouth to tell Holland what you had found, you heard his voice below you.

“Holy fuck—You’re not wearing any underwear!”

Holland’s words caused you to release your grip on the fence in a panic, snapping your attention towards him. You find him still staring up your dress in shock, his jaw dropped open. You reach out to swat at him, shouting his name in an annoyed tone. “I told you not to look!”

Your words seemed to shake Holland out of his stupor, but your swat only backfired on you. Holland tried to dodge your hand out of instinct, which only served to make him lose his balance and send the both of you toppling to the ground. It happened so quickly you don’t even remember falling, but you definitely felt the pain of the impact. Every part of your body ached, but it didn’t feel like you had broken or sprained anything, so that was good. Your head may have been pounding from smacking the ground, but it was better than your skull being cracked open by the sidewalk. You had missed that by just a few inches, you realized as you rolled onto your side. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you lift me,” you groaned out, looking over at Holland.

Clearly, you had taken the brunt of the fall, as Holland was already sitting up and staring at you. “Why aren’t you wearing any underwear?!” He asked incredulously, ignoring your previous comment.

“It’s laundry day and I didn’t have any clean!” You admitted.

Holland shook his head unbelievingly. “Jesus Christ, I need a cigarette…” He spoke as he reached into his jacket, pulling out his lighter and a cigarette just a moment later. After pulling the first drag, he regarded you once more. This time it seemed like he was checking you for any injuries, rather than staring at you like a deer in headlights. “I’m sorry for dropping you. Are you alright?” He asked sincerely, gesturing towards you with his hand.

You nodded and moved to sit up, another groan tumbled from your lips as your body ached in protest. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You assured him. You may wind up with several bruises and have a hard time getting out of bed tomorrow, but you’d survive.

A comfortable silence fell between you once more as Holland smoked and you let the pounding in your head subside. After a few moments, Holland snuffed out his cigarette in the grass. “That’s why you’re wearing the dress,” he announced, having put together that you lied to him earlier. “You didn’t want to wear that, you just didn’t have anything else to wear today.”

Your eyes snapped up from the grass to meet his as he broke the silence, but you didn’t bother giving him a response, your facial expression was enough. He was right and he knew it, you didn’t need to confirm it with words.

“I may bathe in my clothes, but at least I always have clean underwear.” He spoke in a chastising tone that had you rolling your eyes. “So, did you see anything?” He asked after a moment, gesturing towards the binoculars that were lying on the grass.

As you glanced at where he gestured, you remembered what you had witnessed right before Holland dropped you. “Yeah, I saw a naked woman being railed against her bedroom window.” You shrugged and continued speaking as Holland reached for the binoculars. “I couldn’t see by who, though, so we’ll just have to wait until he leaves.”

Springing up to his feet, Holland tried his best to see over the fence, hoping to catch a glimpse of the action. It was no use, though, as he wasn’t tall enough to see over it unless he backed all of the way up into the street—and then he’d likely be hit by a car. He sighed defeatedly and turned back to you. “When does Mrs. Jenkins say her husband comes home after this?”

You looked down at your watch, your eyes widening as you realized what time it was. 1:54 p.m. Mrs. Jenkins said her husband usually got home around 2:30 p.m. and you were about thirty minutes away from where she lived. As if on cue, you hear the sound of an engine starting up in the driveway. Your attention turns back to Holland, his blue eyes connecting with yours. “Right now.” You spoke hurriedly, rushing to get yourself up from the ground. Like the gentleman he is, Holland helped you to your feet and the two of you took off running towards your car.

“Why is our timing always so terrible?” Holland asked exasperatedly as you ran.

“I don’t know, but I blame you.” You replied, slamming the door shut behind you as you hopped into the car.

Holland’s door slammed shut right after yours. “You blame me? Why?”

You’re digging around in the backseat for your camera, not even looking at Holland as you respond. “Because you distract me,” you admit carelessly, not paying attention to the words that fall from your mouth until it’s too late. The car in the driveway is growing closer to the gate, and if it was your client’s husband that was leaving, you needed to capture a picture of it in order to be paid. As you return to your seat, fiddling with the camera to turn it on, you realize what you just said to Holland and your heart hammers in your chest.

Holland shakes his head in disbelief. “I distract you? No, no, it’s you who distracts me.”

Your brows furrow as you glance over at him . “How do I distract you?”

“Are you kidding me? Did you forget what happened not even fifteen minutes ago?” Holland gestures towards the spot the two of you were standing previously. “I just saw up your dress and you’re not wearing any fucking underwear! Do you know what that did to me?”

His question seemed rhetorical, or maybe you had just lost all function in your brain at the implication of his words.

“And don’t even get me started on that dress. You look so god damn sexy in that, and I hate that you only wear it to lure married men into flirting with you for a case.” Holland admitted, only pausing long enough to suck in a breath of air before he continued. “I get so fucking jealous watching those men think they have a chance with you, and you don’t even notice!” Holland stares at you as he finishes, waiting for a response as your brain tries to wrap around what he just confessed.

Your thoughts are running a mile a minute, trying to remember every time you’ve had to flirt with a married man for a case. Did you really not notice that Holland was jealous? Or did you just try to shrug it off because you didn’t believe he could ever feel that way for you? Your mouth suddenly feels dry at the realization, but eventually you speak. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about me….”

“Of course I do, how couldn’t I?” Holland spoke as if he couldn’t believe you didn’t notice sooner. “You’re gorgeous, extremely smart,” he then gestured towards himself, “you put up with my bullshit, and you’re so good to Holly.” A small smile spread across his face as he spoke of his daughter. “She loves you, you know?”

You returned his smile and nodded, leaning in closer to the center console. “Yeah, I know.”

Holland closed the short distance between you, his face mere inches from yours as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, hesitatingly whispering his confession. “And I love you, too.”

Gazing into his cool blue eyes, you couldn’t help the blinding smile that grew on your face. “I love you, too, Holland.” You admitted before capturing his lips. Holland’s hand rose to your neck, gripping the back of it as he locked you in a passionate kiss. His tongue prodded against your lips for entrance, but the sound of a gate opening made him pull away.

“Mrs. Jenkin’s husband, Mrs. Jenkin’s husband!” He cried out, pointing at the car that was pulling out of the driveway right in front of you.

“Oh, shit!” You exclaimed, pulling yourself away from Holland and quickly grabbing the camera from your lap. You raised it to your eye and managed to snap a few incriminating photos of the man who matched the description of your client’s husband driving away.

You placed the camera back into the floor of the back seat and turned towards Holland with a grin. “Well, let’s go get paid.”

Holland leaned over, gently grabbing your jaw and pulling your lips to meet his. “As soon as the check’s in the bank, I’m taking you on a date.” He promised, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll even buy a new dress.” You spoke softly, nuzzling your nose against his before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

A smirk spread across Holland’s face. “Any chance you won’t be wearing any underwear then, too?”

You scoff and swat at his chest with a laugh. “Holland!” You shout his name in a scolding tone, turning back to face the steering wheel as you turn the keys in the ignition.

“Well, that’s not a no….” He trails off as you start the drive back to your client’s home, eliciting a giggle from you.

#holland march #holland march fic #the nice guys fic #holland march x reader #the nice guys #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling #myfics #requests #holland march fanfic

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hollywoodxwhore · 1 year

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Ours | Chapter Twelve

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: ANGST (it's going to get worse after this chapter so please check content warnings), swearing, depression, col over reacting, col & presley arguing, mentions of domestic abuse, MF being a dumb asshole

Colson

I’ve been walking around like a zombie for the past three weeks.

I feel terrible about it. I should be celebrating our album, celebrating the fact that I’m married, celebrating my birthday that passed by weeks ago, but I can’t. April turned into May and as the weather warms and the days get longer, I just can’t pull myself out of this hole.

I barely talk to anyone, even Presley. She’s understanding and kind and patient but I know how much it hurts her. We fall asleep together most nights but we haven’t had sex since before Megan’s post came out. I miss her, of course I do.

I find her in the kitchen, finishing up dinner, and before she notices me, I take a second to watch her. She looks like she’s lost some weight from her already thin frame. Her hair is in a messy claw clip and she wears sweats and a giant t-shirt. Come to think of it, she’s been acting depressed, too. Probably because her husband has turned into a depressed lump whom half the world hates. Maybe half the world is dramatic, but it feels like it.

I haven’t been on social media and I’ve only been replying to those closest to me. Even then, my replies are few and far between. I can only imagine what’s being said about me. My lawyer told me Megan was forced to delete her post, but it’s not like it matters. Everyone already saw it. Everyone already drew their own conclusions.

As Presley turns around to place our bowls on the island, she spots me. She straightens up a little and her face, a mask of misery and exhaustion, transforms into a weak smile. She’s trying so hard for me but I can tell she’s also feeling broken. I imagine I’d feel the same way if she was going through something painful. I sigh and walk over to her. She turns to look up at me and I slide my arms around her waist, pulling her in.

“Col,” she murmurs, nuzzling her face against my neck. I say nothing. I stand there and hold my wife, trying my best to draw strength from her. But nothing is better and everything is fucked up and I’m so scared. I just need Presley. I need to be close to her, to forget the rest of the world.

I bend to scoop her up and her legs go easily around my waist. I settle her on the island and press my forehead to hers, my hands sliding over her thighs. “Pres,” I say roughly. Her hand delicately rests on my cheek. “I’m sorry I haven’t been myself.”

“Colson,” Presley tries, shaking her head, but I continue.

“It’s not fair for me to shut you out. I just don’t have anything productive to say,” I mutter.

“Talking about your feelings isn’t unproductive, Col,” Presley gently points out. “I just want you to tell me what you’re feeling. What you’re thinking.”

“I’m…I’m fucking scared,” I say haltingly, like the words don’t want to come out. “I don’t know what this is going to mean for my career. It could kill me, Pres.”

Presley chews her lip. “Quite honestly, there are a ton of abusive men in Hollywood and they’re pretty much all forgiven.”

My brow furrows. “But I’m not an abuser,” I say tightly.

“No, Col, I know that,” Presley says, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean–”

I push away from her, shaking my head. “Don’t even compare me to those assholes,” I say, anger and fear rising in my chest.

Presley’s eyes widen as she hops down from the counter. “Colson, I’m not–”

“You fucking believe her, don’t you?” I scoff, frowning deeply at my wife.

“Colson, you’re–”

“Nah, that’s fucking cute, Presley,” I say shortly, tearing a hand through my hair. “Thought you of all people had my back.”

“Colson, stop!” Presley pleads, crossing her arms protectively across her chest.

“Let me guess, you’re going to ask for a divorce soon,” I scoff. I know I’m being unreasonable, but I don’t want to be blindsided again. If she’s going to leave, I need to be prepared for it.

“Stop. You just want to hurt your own feelings,” Presley shoots back, her eyes narrowing. “You know I don’t feel that way.”

“Maybe you fucking do, though,” I mutter, and Presley explodes.

“Oh, fuck off!” she snaps, her eyes wide and fierce with anger. “I’ve been nothing but supportive and patient and sweet to you. I don’t force you to talk. I don’t tell you what to do. And now you want to put shit on me?”

“Presley,” I say, heart sinking.

She shakes her head, holding a hand up. “You can wallow in your own fucking misery by yourself tonight,” she says. “I’m going to Cash’s.” With that, she abandons the kitchen and takes the stairs two at a time up to our room.

Panic rises within me and I want to follow her but I feel frozen in place. She comes downstairs a few minutes later. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Presley slips into a pair of slides, shoulders her bag, and slams out of the house.

And now, I’m completely alone.

Presley

I wake up at Cash’s place the next morning with my eyes so swollen I can barely open them.

I don’t let Colson see how much this all impacts me because he’s the one really dealing with it. I’m just the wife. But I’m also the one who sees what’s being said on social media. I’m the one that interacts most with Jason, Colson’s lawyer. I’m the one who responds to texts from friends and emails about interviews. I don’t think Colson has any idea how much I’ve been doing since this all happened.

I’m completely exhausted. I miss my husband. I miss how things were just a month ago, before Megan ruined everything. She can’t stand seeing Colson happy with someone else. I see it for exactly what it is, but too many people still see Megan as this sexy, perfect woman and how dare MGK even breathe the same air as her!

I hate her, and I don’t hate people. Usually, I’m pretty indifferent to anyone I don’t know. I’m protective of those I love, but I’m pretty good at just brushing people off. But I actually hate Megan. The fact that she’s making allegations like this for attention, for revenge on Colson for not taking her back when she was the one who hurt him in the first place. Colson is right – he’ll probably never come back from allegations like this.

Jason is at a standstill with things; Megan’s lawyer isn’t very communicative, but I wake up with a strong feeling that I have to do something about this and very fucking soon. I stare at the ceiling for a long time, fingers twitching. “Fuck it,” I mutter, snatching my phone off the nightstand. Do not disturb is still on, so I ignore any notifications and scroll down, finding her original text to me. I type up the message and stare at it for three minutes before I finally hit send.

There. Can’t take it back now.

It’s raining as I navigate LA traffic, hoodie pulled over my head. I must look wild right now, no makeup, messy hair, sweats and a hoodie. Slides on my feet. But I don’t give a fuck. This ends today.

I send a text to announce my arrival and the gate slowly creeps open. It gives me some satisfaction that her house is smaller than ours and nowhere near as nice or unique. I park in front of the garage and walk up to the front door. I should be nervous but I’m not. I’m angry. I’m motivated. She doesn’t get to do this.

Before I even walk up the steps, the door is open. Megan stands there, one hand curled around the door, her long nails like talons. It’s funny – I used to have such a crush on Megan Fox. She was that girl-next-door kind of sexy, a little daring in the things she’d say but still coy enough. But up close, it’s clear just how much surgery she’s gotten done, and it doesn’t suit her. She can do whatever she wants; anyone can. But that doesn’t mean it looks good.

We nod at each other and I step inside as she moves out of my way. “Shoes off, please,” she says, and I leave my slides by the door. I follow her into a stark white dining room area. It’s the exact opposite of comfortable here. How does anyone live like this?

“Have a seat,” Megan says, gesturing to one of the stiff chairs. I need to play this the right way, so I do as I’m told. She goes to the other side of the table and has a seat, slowly pushing her long hair off her shoulder. Her eyes find mine and she regards me for a second. Then, she smirks. “Colson has a type.”

“I don’t think he does,” I say, unable to help myself. “Where you’re a cold, vindictive bitch, I’m actually nice and I care about him.”

Megan snickers, quirking a brow. “Good to know you have some bite to you, Presley,” she says. “Why did you want to come here?”

“I thought we could have tea and girl talk,” I say, cocking my head to the side. “Why do you think I’m here, Megan?” I’m trying to keep it together, but now that I’m across the table from her, my anger is an entity in the room with us.

She smirks but then it fades. She’s an actress but not a very good one. She’s trying so hard to look broken and sad but I see right fucking through it. “Has he hit you yet?” she asks.

“Cut the bullshit,” I say, tone clipped. “You and I both know Colson never laid a hand on you.”

“Oh, he laid hands on me several times, if you catch what I’m saying,” she says, that smirk reappearing. “Does he tell you you’re the most stunning woman he’s ever seen while he fucks you?” She leans forward, pressing her huge, fake breasts up. “He once told me I have the nicest body of any woman he’s been with. Has he said that to you?”

She’s trying to hurt me. She’s trying to get me to snap. This is what she does. I absolutely refuse to give into her games.

“So you’re saying any time he touched you, it was consensual,” I say.

Megan rolls her eyes. “Of course. You guys are all idiots,” she says. “Colson can posture all he wants but you know he’d never hurt a fly. But it’s so easy to get people to believe it. He has a reputation, after all. Aren’t you quite a bit younger than he is?”

“And aren’t you ten-plus years older than me and trying to scare me?” I shoot back. There it is – a tiny crack in the persona. A flicker of insecurity. It empowers me. “Why can’t you just let us be happy? You didn’t even want him. You left him, remember?”

Megan leans back, crossing her arms. “And now I want him back,” she says, eyes burning into mine.

“Do you think this is the way to get him back?” I ask, incredulous. “Holy shit. That’s so sad.”

“Don’t do that,” she says, a sour look taking over her features. “Don’t try to make me feel pathetic. It won’t work.”

“You need to admit that Colson never hurt you. Or his lawyer is going to sue you for everything you fucking have,” I say coldly.

“So what?” Megan snorts. “He can go right ahead. What’s done is done. No one will ever forget that I put that post out there.” She shrugs.

“But he never hit you. He never physically assaulted you,” I say.

“Of course he didn’t,” Megan scoffs. “Like I said, he was a pussy.”

My nostrils flare in anger but I’m almost done. “I want you to admit it,” I mutter. “To me.”

“Really?” Megan says, a grin broadening on her face. “You want me to admit that Colson never hurt me? He didn’t. In fact, I hit him. Several times. He deserved it.” Another crack in the exterior. A cold, desolate anger that I’ve never seen in anyone else before. This woman is fucking scary.

“You’re sick,” I say, getting to my feet. “Leave us the fuck alone.”

“We’ll see about that,” Megan says from where she sits. I slip into my shoes and leave.

As soon as I get in the car, I stop the audio recording, a smile growing slowly on my face. I toggle to the end of the recording, stopping it right before her confession. I got it. I fucking got it.

This ends now.

Taglist: @triplexdoublex @jaxbreaker @mgklove99xx @jinx-on-mars-19xx @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @anonymousme86 @whiteleoqueen @feroniakutenpuu @hxllywoodwhxree

#mgk #mgk fanfic #mgk fan fiction #mgk angst #colson baker #colson baker fanfic #colson baker fan fiction #colson baker angst #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly fanfiction #machine gun kelly angst

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coraliix · 7 months

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North Wind | Lloyd x OC

Chapter 6: Respite

9.64k words

Summary: Mari starts school and grows closer with her new friends. She later meets the green ninja.

A/N: Hey all, so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter — I couldn't get some parts of it right, and even now I still don't like how a few scenes turned out.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

(Side note: there is a bit of swearing in this chapter, more so than in the previous ones. It'll probably stay at this level the rest of the fic, with nothing too vulgar.)

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The door bell chimed as someone came into the tea shop. “Welcome,” I greeted as they stepped further into the store. They gave me a polite smile and passed where I stood at the counter, striding over to look at the shelves displaying bags of tea.

Idly, I set about reorganizing the cash register, sorting through the bills and coins my last customer had given me.

It had been almost four weeks since I’d come to Ninjago City, and life was going well. I was settling in with Skylor nicely. I’d even gotten a job — with Skylor’s help.

Apparently, Skylor had an acquaintance that owned Steeper Wisdom, the tea shop I’d entered that first day I came to the city. (With my own bit of research, I learned that it belonged to Ronin — a “former” thief whose work I’d sort of admired, at least in my more naive beginnings of crime.) Somehow, she’d convinced him to offer me a job.

“Skylor, that’s incredible! I mean— how did you do this?” I asked. “I haven’t— I’m probably not the best choice for a new hire.” It was true. I’d never been hired anywhere else and didn’t have much of any work experience as a result.

She smiled at me, crossing her arms with a nonchalant shrug. She simply responded saying, “I have good connections.”

“Connections? You’re not involved with any gangs, are you?” I joked with a wry smile, nudging her with an elbow. When the words slipped out, I paused, unsure why I’d made a joke like that.

Skylor seemed to share the same surprise, red eyebrows raising slightly, but she smiled and laughed a bit. “No. My friends just have trust in me, and by extension, you,” she replied, giving me a warm smile.

I smiled a little at the recent memory, gratitude for my friend rushing through me like warmth emanating from a fireplace.

Once the customer had finished perusing the aisles and paid, I went back to sorting the money. Idly, I wondered if I’d ever meet Ronin. Despite owning this business, I hadn't ever seen the man around the shop. Since Skylor had pulled strings to get me hired, I hadn't seen him for any kind of interview before working, though I doubted he did that kind of stuff anyway.

Then again, people said not to meet your heroes (though I hardly considered him a “hero.”)

The shop didn't have much activity, but I surmised that it usually didn't. Its traditional look left it looking slightly out of place in the growing modern city that surrounded it, even with its bright neon lights.

It didn't seem like the type of place a thief would own. Another hour passed with little to do, but I wasn’t complaining. Soon after I closed the shop, I made my way to Skylor’s apartment.

She wasn’t there when I unlocked the door and slipped inside, but a text she’d sent me a few minutes ago explained that she’d get home a bit later than usual. My reply had been a simple text acknowledging hers.

Skylor had also told me she was bringing back some food from the restaurant for our dinner, so I set out to look over my things for school one last time, taking advantage of the time to change into comfortable loungewear as well.

Anxiety and apprehension pooled in my stomach at the thought of my first day tomorrow, but I comforted myself with the fact that no one here would know who I was. Over a few weeks of chatting with him, I’d learned Lloyd also went to Ninjago High School, along with his friend Nya. His other friends had graduated either last year or the year before, he’d told me.

A small smile rose on my face at the thought of having at least one friend at school. Not that I would’ve minded being on my own again, but it would be nice to know at least one person — someone who didn't know who my uncle was.

The soft patter of rain against the windows brought my attention to the sky, which had darkened slightly. This day was cooler than it’d been this past week, and the rain would no doubt stave off the evening’s lingering heat.

Unbidden and unwanted, the sound of Skylor’s footsteps down the hall drifted into my ears, carried along by the whispers that trailed after me more often as of late. I wasn’t sure why.

It was similar to when the whispers had first awakened all those years ago. When I hadn't been able to control them.

Choosing to ignore what that could mean, I stepped out of my room and grabbed a few blankets from a closet, setting them on the couch and turning the TV on with a flick of the remote. Me and Skylor decided to have one last relaxed evening together before I’d start school — and in her words, “Start getting stressed and burnt out.”

I flopped onto the couch, looking behind me at the click of the door unlocking and meeting Skylor’s slightly surprised face with a smile. “Good timing,” I remarked.

She huffed in amusement, kicking off her shoes and striding over to lay the boxes on the coffee table. “You have a knack for that,” she said, walking away to quickly slip into more comfortable clothes. She didn’t know the half of it.

Once she joined me on the couch, we settled on a comedy and started digging into our food. The movie was good enough, earning a few chuckles from us and coaxing out a laugh here and there.

An hour into the second movie we put on, I felt my eyelids droop. The soft patter of rain hitting the windows and the quiet scene currently playing wasn’t helping me stay awake, but I wasn’t falling asleep just yet. A glance over at Skylor revealed that she was half-asleep, draped over the couch arm and snoring lightly. I nudged her with my foot. “Wanna turn in?”

Skylor rubbed at her eyes, squinting at the screen. “Sure.” She yawned, sitting up and grasping around for the remote. Once she found it, she flicked off the TV, reclining with an exhale as her eyes drifted shut.

I flung the blanket off of my legs before I could be lured into sleep and sat up, joints popping in my spine and neck when I stretched my arms out. I looked back at Skylor, who was starting to doze off again. With a small chuckle, I gently shook her arm.

“Your back will regret sleeping on the couch in the morning,” I warned her, voice groggy with fatigue. “Especially in that position.”

A low grumble was all I got in response. But after a moment, Skylor sat up with a groan, rubbing at her eyes again. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered to me, wrapping the blanket around herself burrito-style even as she got up. “Night, Mar,” she called over her shoulder, stalking to her room.

The nickname jolted me awake, its familiarity sending a shock to my core.

Hideo had called me that. The abbreviation of an already short name had made me laugh to myself whenever he’d said it.

Pathetic, that small, hateful voice inside my head said. You’re still shaken up by him?

“Night,” I heard myself say in a small voice, though it was too late for Skylor to hear, judging by her closed door. I stood in the living room for a while, jaw clenched and eyes burning. Eventually, I trudged into my room, pulled back the sheets and got into bed. My limbs were stiff as I did so.

Why can’t you just forget it happened? Are you so weak that it still affects you, weeks later?

I forced those thoughts out of my head, along with the ones about him. It wasn’t worth dwelling on. Nothing could change what he did or the fact that I was alone now. The sooner I accepted it and moved on, the better off I’d be.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and forced my tense muscles to relax. Seconds passed, then minutes, then what felt like hours. I blinked, eyes open and sleepless.

Sleep evaded me. I chased it to no avail; the luring lull of rest escaped my grasp.

Resigning myself to not getting any sleep tonight, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. I didn’t know how long I spent like that, eyes blank while I fought to keep my mind from drifting to earlier thoughts.

In the end, I did fall asleep, but I wished I hadn’t.

Waves lapped gently at our ankles, feet wading back and forth in the water and sending ripples through the lake. We sat on the edge of a small dock, pants rolled up to our shins so we wouldn’t get wet. It was a silly precaution, seeing as our hair and shirts were already soaked from splashing each other a few minutes ago.

The moment was quiet. Silent, but comfortable. We didn’t say anything. We didn’t have to.

This day had been a quiet excursion on our own, away from our uncle’s watchful eye. He’d been busy finalizing some sort of deal in Ignacia — it didn’t matter to us. Whatever time we could get away from him, we took.

The small lake near our house had been our favorite spot to go together when me and Hideo wanted to escape reality in the three years after our parents’ deaths. We hadn’t been back here for months.

I could feel that Hideo wanted to say something. Although comfortable, the air was thick with apprehension and unspoken understanding.

By this point, it’d been a month since my uncle started my training. I turned fourteen a few months ago, but my young age didn’t matter to him — I would still be subjected to following his orders and enduring his harsh preparation.

Hideo knew this, of course, but the specific details were kept from him.

I didn’t mind that aspect of this ordeal. I’d rather my brother didn’t know about what I’d have to do under our uncle’s tutelage.

“Mar,” Hideo started saying. “I don’t want to go back.”

I knew what where he meant. Back to the house in the city. Back to our uncle. I felt the same, but I knew we didn’t have much choice. That didn’t stop me from feeling bitter about it, though.

“I know, Deo,” I said. There wasn’t much else I could say.

“Can’t we do something?” His voice was small and quiet.

I turned to look at him, noting the worried crease in his brow. A frown settled on my face at the sight. My brother didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to feel scared, or guilty about what our uncle was doing or the plans he had for me.

Not for the first time, I cursed the universe for taking our parents from us, for condemning us to a life controlled by a man who wanted nothing more than power.

In that moment, I made a promise — not just to myself, but to my brother, too. “Hideo, look at me,” I said, turning my body to face him fully. Once he lifted his head to meet my eyes, I continued. “He can force me to train and work for him, but I’ll never let him hurt you. I’ll take care of us.”

My tone was firm and unwavering as I made the vow. Hideo’s eyes shined with dampness, a singular tear sliding down his cheek. Silently, I reached out to wrap him in an embrace. He sunk into my arms, pressing his face into the crook of my neck.

A fierce sense of protectiveness came over me then, and I resolved that I’d do anything — everything — to get us out of my uncle’s grasp.

With a gasp, I jolted awake. My muscles were tense, breaths coming in hard and body damp with sweat. It felt like I’d just finished running a marathon with the way my heart raced.

It was silent in the room; the only sound filling the space was my labored breathing and a muffled noise through the wall that told me Skylor was waking too. I bit back the choked gasps that made their way through my throat, forcing deep breaths through my nose.

Distantly, I noticed the stiffness of my cheeks and the bit of water that leaked from the corners of my eyes.

Getting up was difficult, to say the least. I concentrated on getting my breaths back to normal and trying to keep my thoughts from going back and dwelling on the memory I dreamt. Burying the dream away into the back of my mind seemed a good solution. After a few minutes, I slowly rose out of bed. Checking the time on my phone revealed it was 7:23 a.m.

Any bit of exhaustion evaporated — at least for now — as I bolted into movement. Great. First day and I’m already running late.

Even with all my preparation from the past few days, I rushed to get dressed, brush my teeth, and eat. Skylor was already eating in the kitchen when I came barrelling in, her pace considerably calmer than mine.

“Wake up late?” She raised a quizzical brow, taking another sip of her coffee.

A grunt was all I said in response, too busy stuffing food into my mouth to answer her properly. “Can’t believe it,” I huffed through mouthfuls.

Skylor chuckled, no doubt amused by the sight of me rushing around like a maniac. She glanced out the window, looking down with raised eyebrows. “Bus is coming.”

I cursed under my breath, downing the rest of the coffee I’d poured myself. Striding over to where Skylor sat at the small table, I gave her a quick side-hug and slung my bag over my shoulder. “See you later,” I said over a shoulder.

“Have a good first day!” she called out to me. I sent her a quick wave in thanks and I closed the door.

Hearing the screech of tires pull to a stop, I had to rush down the steps to get to the bus, which was already starting to pull away from the apartment entrance. An apologetic glance to the driver and I hastily slid into an empty seat.

My cheeks burned at the exertion and the slight embarrassment, and I sank further into the seat, turning to look out the window as we pulled away from the apartment.

——————————

The ride to school was short — around 10 minutes. It didn’t take long to get there, and once we did, students poured out of the bus. I hesitated near the steps to go inside.

A while ago, I met with the principal to get myself scheduled in time before classes began. He’d told me a student would show me around on the first day a few minutes before classes started, but what if I was too late? How long was “a few minutes”? What if they weren't here —

“Hey, you’re Mari, right?” A voice pulled me out of my brief panic, and I turned around to see a girl with short black hair pulled up into a ponytail.

I took a calming breath before I spoke, offering a polite smile. “Yeah, I am. Are you the guide?”

She nodded. “That’s me. I’m Nya,” she introduced herself, extending her hand with a friendly grin.

The name stuck out to me for a reason I couldn’t understand before I remembered that she must’ve been Lloyd’s friend, the Nya he’d mentioned. I took her hand and shook it. “Nya Smith?” I asked in clarification.

She raised an eyebrow at my question, but nodded. Glancing over at the entrance before looking back at me, Nya angled her head and scanned my face with scrutinizing eyes. I felt like an ant under her stare. It was strange.

“Do you know Lloyd Garmadon?” Her question was bluntly asked, the suddenness of it catching me off guard.

“Uh, yeah,” I said. “We’re friends. You’re friends with him too, right? He mentioned you,” I explained at her bemused stare.

Her eyes seemed to light up with realization at my words. “You met him in Jamanakai, didn't you? You’re that Mari?” she asked again, a devious grin creeping up on her face — though I suspected it was aimed at a certain blonde boy rather than me.

Nevertheless, my smile shifted into a slightly bewildered expression. “Yeah, I did. Does he talk about me a lot?” I joked. A small laugh left me at the thought.

Nya returned my laugh, though hers was notably more hearty, clearly knowing the extent of which her friend discussed me. (I wasn't sure how to feel about that, but I decided it was nice to know a friend liked me.)

“He sure does,” Nya replied with a chuckle, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s nice that he made another friend.” She sobered at that, a sudden sadness and frustration mixing bitterly in her dark eyes.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she turned back to me, stormy eyes settling back to normal. She cleared her throat. “I guess we should probably start the tour,” Nya stated, motioning me to follow her into the school. I trailed after her, not wanting to lose my way.

The school wasn't as large as I thought it had been, and with Nya’s assistance, it wasn't very difficult to get a general grasp on the building's layout. She led me down the halls to my first hour, which had started a few minutes ago.

Before I went in, she grabbed a pencil and circled the physics class on my schedule. “We have it at the same time,” she explained with a smile. “Sit by me if you want.”

A grateful smile adorned my face at the offer. “Thanks, Nya. I’ll see you then.” She nodded, tossing me a wave before making her way to her own class. With a breath, I entered the classroom, my stomach doing flips as I stepped further inside.

Thankfully, the class passed without any issues. I relished in the anonymity I had now, aside from students’ mild interest in me at being new to the school. My next two classes went by smoothly as well.

Now at my fourth hour, I entered the physics classroom, seeing Nya sitting at a desk near the door. The seat next to her was empty. I glanced around the rest of the room, taking note of the way the other students had subtly spread themselves away from her — not enough to be glaringly obvious, but I still noticed.

A frown settled on my face, but I walked over to sit down next to her.

Nya looked up from her phone, a smile lighting up her features when she greeted me saying, “Hey Mari! How’ve your classes gone so far?”

I returned her smile and gave her a small shrug. “End of the world hasn't happened yet,” I told her, earning an amused smile. Class began shortly and ended as quickly as it started. (At least, it felt that way.) Now it was time for lunch, and I found myself hesitating to leave the room, unsure of where I should go, where I should sit.

Nya saved me from my brief moment of anguish by inviting me to eat with her and Lloyd. Another grateful smile passed over my face and I accepted, starting to follow her out the door.

“You get food from outside?” I asked her curiously. She turned to look at me, her steps unfaltering as she brought us over to the student parking lot.

“Usually,” she answered. “The food here isn't bad, but we prefer to just eat what we want.” She paused suddenly, her foot resting atop the curb when we reached the edge of the parking. “Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?” Her voice was a little hesitant.

I blinked. What was it with everyone and their mother having motorcycles lately? A snort huffed out of me at the thought. She seemed confused by my reaction, and I hurried to say, “Yeah, I have.”

“Oh,” she said. Then her face cracked into a grin. “Great! Let's go. We’ll meet Lloyd there.” She hooked her arm through my elbow and steered me toward her motorcycle — another beautiful vehicle, with its white exterior and elegant print.

The print stood out to me. It depicted Lady Iron Dragon, a woman of legend whose book I’d read countless times. “You’re a fan of Lady Iron Dragon?” I asked, taking the helmet she passed me.

Once again, her eyes lit up. “You know her?”

I smiled at her display of childlike excitement. “I’ve only poured over her book a hundred times,” I joked. “She’s really cool. I’ve loved reading her legend since I was little.”

Nya’s laughter rang out like a bell, her gleeful grin growing. “I’m liking you more by the second, Mari,” she teased, mounting the bike.

After I got on behind her, we headed down the city streets to stop at a small restaurant which was simultaneously connected to a dojo. A green motorcycle was propped up against a sign near the entrance. It instantly caught my attention.

Damn, it really does feel like everyone has motorcycles these days, I thought to myself. “Don’t tell me that’s Lloyd’s,” I scoffed playfully as we passed by it to enter the small store.

Nya snickered. “We all have bikes.” She paused before asking, “Wait, who have you met so far? Out of our circle?”

The question had me thinking a little, trying to remember each of Lloyd’s friends and matching names to faces. I let Nya guide me to a table, noting that she’d spotted someone and beelined a specific way. “I’ve met Lloyd, Zane, Cole, you,” I counted on my fingers, saying that last word pointedly, “And Jay and Kai.”

She nodded, setting her bag down on a chair. “Then you’ve met everyone. Well, almost everyone,” Nya corrected. “Come on, let’s order some food.”

I quirked a brow. There were more people in (what I thought was) their group of six? Following her, I spotted a certain blonde boy standing in line. We walked over to him. Nya tapped his shoulder, and he turned around.

“Nya, good timing. Do you usually get—” he started to say, but cut off when he saw me standing next to her.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention,” Nya said, a sly smile on her face. “I invited Mari to join us. That’s cool, right?” Her last words were a question, but she said them like she was daring him to challenge her — or like she knew something he didn't. I didn’t question it.

Instead, I waved — a little awkwardly, I admitted — at Lloyd, offering him a smile. “Hi, Lloyd. Nice to see you again,” I said.

He coughed a bit, an endearing pink dusting his cheeks as he returned my smile. “Yeah, same here,” he agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, uh, are you guys going to order? I just put mine in,” he explained, gesturing to the waiting cashier.

“Yep,” Nya said. She strode up to the counter and told the cashier her order.

I held back, eyes scanning the menu hesitantly. “I’m not sure what to get,” I admitted with a slight frown.

Lloyd gave me a small smile. “Well, do you like sushi? Or maybe soup? The dumplings here are pretty good, too,” he suggested, listing off recommendations. “Not as good as Skylor’s, though,” he added, sending me a wink.

His casual kindness — and that little wink — caught me off guard, but it was far from unwelcome. An appreciative smile crossed my face, and I nodded. “Dumplings sound good. Let’s just hope Skylor doesn’t find out about our betrayal,” I joked back.

He chuckled a little, the pleasing sound making me smile.

After I stepped up to the counter and ordered, we got our food, quickly sitting back down at our table and starting to eat. Lunch period wasn’t long enough that we could be outside for long.

“So, Mari,” Nya started to say. “What’s your next class?”

I swallowed and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “History.”

Lloyd sat up straighter at that. “Who’s your teacher?” he asked. I tilted my head in curious confusion, but answered him anyway. “Mr. Ek.” His eyebrows rose. He glanced at Nya, who was carefully hiding a smile behind her drink.

“I have that class too,” he explained, pulling at the sleeve of his green hoodie.

“Oh, that's cool!” I said, smiling at his nervous mannerisms. “You better hope you’re not sat next to me,” I told him with a chuckle. “I can go overboard with history sometimes.”

He scoffed skeptically. “I know lots of history nerds. You can't be that bad.”

“I prefer the term 'history buff’.”

He snorted at my quip, watching me with an amused smile and relaxed expression. My smile matched his, lips around my straw as I idly sipped from my drink.

Nya clapped her hands together. “Alright lovebirds, we should get going. Lunch is almost over.” Suddenly, our laid back demeanors shifted into something not quite as relaxed. I felt my face heat up at her words, embarrassment — and something else I was not going to acknowledge — staining my face red. A glance at Lloyd revealed he was having the same reaction.

“Nya.” Lloyd muttered under his breath, an exasperated (or flustered?) tone to his voice.

Nya pretended not to hear him. “Ready to head back?” she asked me, rising from her seat.

My mouth flapped open for a few seconds before I cleared my throat. “Uh yeah, yep. Let’s go,” I told her, standing up and gathering my dishes together on the table. I looked back to Lloyd, offering him an awkward smile. “See you later, Lloyd.”

He nodded, pulling at the front of his hood. “Yeah, I’ll see you later, Mari,” he responded, waving goodbye as I followed Nya out the door.

Once we were out of earshot, I caught up to Nya. “What was that about?” I asked her, brows furrowing in bewilderment.

Her lips were curved in an amused smile, but when she glanced at me, she winced apologetically. “Sorry. I just like to tease him sometimes. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said. She hooked a leg over the bike, handing me a helmet. “Though, it was cute seeing how you two talked with each other.” Mirth filled her eyes as they slid back to me.

I understood Lloyd’s exasperated tone from just now. “Nya, we only met a few weeks ago,” I pointed out. She shrugged, making a promise to drop it. Letting out a little snort, I hopped on behind her. Soon enough, we made our way back to the school and headed inside.

“Do you remember where your next class is?” Nya asked.

Quickly pulling out my schedule, I checked the room number, recalling where it had been. “I think so,” I said.

She squinted in doubt. “I can take you there, if you want,” Nya offered.

But I shook my head. “No, I think I can get there. Besides, you need to get to class on time, you delinquent,” I teased, nudging her with an elbow.

Her brow rose in mild amusement. “Ha-ha. They don’t even count tardies on the first day,” she said, waving at me as she turned to go to her class. I waved back, a small smile on my face. This day had been going well, so far. I hoped it’d stay that way.

Finding my next class wasn’t hard; soon enough I found it and walked inside. Desks were in neat rows, and students were looking at the board to see where their assigned seats were.

Mine was far from Lloyd’s, all the way on the other side of the room. In fact, I noticed that his desk was all the way in the back corner. Only one desk near him had someone assigned to it. A frown dotted my face.

I guess I wouldn’t be able to sit by him, after all. Nevertheless, I walked to my own spot, finding Lloyd’s gaze on me. When our eyes met, I sent him a sad smile. He gave a resigned shrug in return.

However, when the girl who was assigned next to him came into the room and saw where she was seated, there were immediate complaints. “I can’t sit next to him,” she pouted. “This is endangerment. He’ll feed me to his dad’s shark army!”

The teacher didn’t look too pleased with her complaining, but he nodded with a sigh. “I still need someone to sit over there,” he said. “Will someone switch?” His hand hovered over the clipboard, ready to make changes — but his face told me he was skeptical someone would volunteer.

Glancing around, I noticed everyone’s faces were wrinkled in distaste as they stared at Lloyd. It grated on my nerves a bit, reminding me of school back in Jamanakai.

“I will,” I said, grabbing my bag and standing up.

A confused look from the teacher told me he didn’t know who I was. He glanced at my name on the sheet, looking back up with a frown. “You’re the new student?” he asked. I nodded yes. His frown twisted in disbelief, but he nodded and scribbled something down. “Okay then.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder, walking over to where Lloyd sat. I could feel the pairs of eyes watching me as I did so, but I paid no attention to them.

“Hey, Lloyd,” I said to the boy when I set my things down.

His expression was one of surprise. Clearly, he hadn’t expected anyone to sit next to him. “Hi,” he said in reply.

I was consciously aware that people were still watching us with bated breath. An annoyed snort left me as I glanced back at the rest of the students. Turning back to Lloyd, I said, “Looks like now we both have easy choices for project partners.”

A small smile adorned his face, then. It made me smile, too. Once we started talking more, the silence hanging over the classroom dissipated, with people starting to chat with each other again. Distantly, I knew they were still watching us warily, but I never once turned my head back to spare them a glance.

The rest of the class period passed similarly, the two spheres of activity in the room holding their own conversations and atmosphere: me and Lloyd, and everyone else.

When the class was packing up, I quickly took a glance at Lloyd’s schedule, noting that we shared the same last hour, which was also our next class. “Hey, we have literature together,” I told him.

Lloyd glanced down at his piece of paper, eyes flitting over to mine as well. “Oh yeah, we do,” he replied, lips curving up into a smile. “That’ll be nice.”

I nodded in agreement. “We can walk there together,” I suggested, sling my bag over a shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Lloyd asked, hesitance seeping into his face. “I mean, you already— er, people will—” he stuttered. “People will start to think you’re… my friend,” he finished lamely.

A frown pulled my lips downward. “I am your friend,” I pointed out to him. “And I’m not bothered if people take offense to that. God knows I’ve already had to deal with my fair share of crap like this, but I don’t mind doing it again for a friend.”

Thankfully, he smiled at my words, though there was still a hint of something like guilt present in his expression. “Alright,” he yielded. “Let’s go.”

I smiled back at him. Before our first class together, I hadn’t really noticed how people seemed to part their way for him — and not in respect. Now, I was acutely aware that everyone was keeping their distance. Once again, a quiet, angry part of me began to simmer with ire. It was too familiar, the way people stared at Lloyd, with sneers and grimaces on their faces.

Lloyd, for his own part, acted like he didn’t even notice.

(Strangely enough, I thought I could tell that it did get to him. It was in the way he clipped forward, in his tense shoulders, in how he kept his eyes trained away from the crowd. I didn’t know how I knew — I just felt it, and could relate to it, on some level.)

An uncomfortable tension was brewing between us when we entered our last class together. But I didn’t want him to think my foul mood was because of him, so I quickly wiped my face free of any bitter expression. Instead, I flashed him a reassuring smile, and gestured to the array of tables open to sit at with an unspoken offer to sit together again.

Lloyd returned my smile, though his was a bit more reserved. Once he chose a table, I wrote our names down on the clipboard displaying the open seating chart.

It seemed gossip about a new student being friendly with the school’s outcast had spread quickly since our fifth period. People walked into the room and their eyes immediately darted to where me and Lloyd sat next to each other. Some whispered, while others didn’t bother hiding their glares.

I rolled my eyes. Would I have to deal with this everyday? “People are so judgmental,” I muttered under my breath, glaring right back at a particularly mean-looking guy who was sneering at Lloyd.

Next to me, Lloyd let out a sad chuckle. “I know, right?” he agreed, crossing his arms and looking forward.

“I mean, everyone knows your dad doesn’t terrorize Ninjago anymore,” I scoffed. “And it's ridiculous that people are shunning you specifically — as if his actions have any sort of bearing on your own.” My words finished with a bitter tinge to them. Taking a glance at Lloyd revealed he was sitting with tight shoulders and a clenched jaw. I frowned.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring the mood down,” I apologized quietly, eyes falling down to the desk. I silently traced the patterns in the wood, wishing I hadn’t said anything at all. Great going, Mari.

Lloyd peeked at me from the corner of his eye, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. I can’t expect you to just ignore it. I just…” he trailed off, something unreadable seeping into his eyes. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the golden locks falling back from his face as he leaned back. “I just wish things were different.”

Lips pressing in a thin line, I nodded in agreement. Honestly, it sucked. Seeing him so resigned and accepting of this, of being shunned and cast out purely because of who he was related to.

Not knowing what else to say, I sighed too, leaning backward until my back pressed into the chair.

The rest of the hour passed that way, with both of us silent and unease crawling under our skin. When the bell rang, Lloyd started packing his things, preparing to head out already. I gently reached out a hand to stop him.

I wanted to clarify that I wasn't second-guessing our friendship after today.

“I…” Suddenly, the words disappeared from my tongue. Instead, what spilled out was, “You don’t deserve it, you know.”

His eyes darted back to me, surprise filling them — most likely matching my own perplexed expression. “Thanks,” he replied softly. Lloyd stood there for another few seconds, my hand still on his elbow.

I retracted it after a second. “I mean it. And just to be clear, this doesn’t change anything. We’re still friends,” I told him assuredly.

A smile — true and bright and genuine — lit his features then. “I’m glad,” he said, eyes crinkling with a softness that (strangely) sent a jolt through my stomach. It was then I noticed how green Lloyd’s eyes were, a beautiful hue of rich emerald.

“I gotta go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mari, he said with a grin, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

A matching grin crept up my face, and I nodded with a wave. “See you tomorrow, Lloyd.”

Once he stepped through the door, I realized I should probably be going too. I didn’t want to miss the bus back home.

That thought made me pause, too. Home. When had I started referring to Skylor’s apartment as home? I thought about it while walking through the halls, sitting on the bus, and while climbing the steps up to the apartment.

Steam filled the air, floating from the kitchen all the way to the entrance. Skylor noticed me standing at the door, and started laughing, saying something about how she hadn’t expected her new recipe of soup to produce so much evaporation.

I just stood there, eyes round and glassy.

Home had been with Skylor ever since she got me settled into her own home, since she had brought that plate of potstickers for me when we’d reunited, since that first day we met, when she’d started a friendship with me free of expectations or suspicion.

Skylor’s laughs died down a bit when she realized I was still standing completely still. “You okay, Mar?” she asked, concern dotting her brow even with her lips curved in a smile that held back her laughter.

The sight made me smile, tears springing to my eyes. “Yeah, sorry, I just… Thank you, Sky. For everything,” I said, wiping my eye with a finger.

Her eyes softened, and though seeming a little confused, she smiled too. “You’re worth it, Mari. I’m glad we’re together now. No matter what happened to lead you here.” She stepped away from the kitchen, striding over to me and opening her arms.

I fell into them gladly, eyes squeezing shut as I buried my face into the crook of her neck. Skylor’s arms wrapped around me, hands rubbing gentle circles into my back, the soothing motion releasing that part of me that felt like a weight had been burdening me. Silent tears trailed down my face, but I let them.

For the first time in a while, I let myself relax from the crushing pressure of holding back my fears and emotions.

For the first time in a while, I let myself be free.

——————————

If Lloyd was going to be honest, he truly was thankful for his friendship with Mari. That first day of school, when she’d sat next to him and basically announced herself as his friend to their class — their whole school, honestly — had shocked him, to say the least.

And then she’d surprised him further with her kind words at the end of their last class. It had comforted a part of him he hadn’t realized still ached.

Lloyd smiled behind his mask as he thought back to that moment from a few days ago. It was different from how his friends reassured him — how he reassured himself. He always told himself that it was expected to receive that sort of treatment, but that he did enough as the green ninja that it made up for his father’s past actions.

But here was this girl, who didn’t know that Lloyd was one of the many saviors of Ninjago, and she told him that no matter what others said, it was unfair.

He and the ninja never assumed that everyone in Ninjago would thank (or even appreciate) them for their work in keeping the world safe — hell if Lloyd didn’t know how the government viewed them — but to know that someone ordinary didn’t fear or hate him was a breath of fresh air in a room full of poisonous gas.

Sounds of a conflict dragged his attention away from his previous thoughts to the streets below him. With his enhanced hearing and vision, he skimmed the streets for trouble. He could clearly hear three voices. Two of them belonged to men, while the other was female and —

“I said, leave me alone,” the lady said, and with a punch to his gut, Lloyd recognized the voice. It was Mari.

He flew over the rooftops as fast as he could, sprinting from one building to another. The voices sounded closer, and Lloyd scowled when he saw what the men were. A couple of muggers with pathetic morals and a sense of cocky arrogance.

Landing on the edge of a rooftop, Lloyd looked down, spotting the three of them. The two men were trying to corner Mari into an alley, but she faced them directly, holding her ground and taking a defensive stance. “Hang on, Mari,” Lloyd mumbled under his breath.

Leaping off the edge, he silently landed on the sidewalk across the street and started making his way over, keeping his sword sheathed. Even with his silent approach, one of the muggers spotted him. Not surprising, since Lloyd’s green gi didn't exactly blend in with the urban cityscape.

Regardless, he stalked closer, sizing up the two men. They didn't seem too dangerous — the only threats posed were the knives in their hands. Behind them stood Mari, whose hands were fisted defensively.

“You heard the lady. Leave her alone,” Lloyd warned the two thugs.

They snorted. “And go to jail now? No thanks,” one of them snarked, and then lunged at Lloyd with his knife.

Lloyd dodged it effortlessly, reaching out to pull the blade away and disarm him. A swift blow to his head and the guy was out cold. The other one scowled and glanced toward Mari. In a split second, Lloyd knew what was going to happen. “Get back,” he shouted at her, but it was too late by that point.

The mugger had grabbed her and was pressing his knife to her throat. Mari had tried to escape his grip but once she felt the cool metal on her skin, she stilled.

“Go away. And leave your sword here,” the thug demanded, “or I’ll kill her.”

A glare formed under Lloyd’s mask, and he didn't bother hiding the anger building in his eyes. Slowly, he reached back to pull his sword out of its scabbard, setting it on the ground and kicking it away. His eyes remained trained on the thug’s hand holding the knife, and on Mari as she took shallow breaths.

The man smiled smugly, glancing at Lloyd’s discarded weapon. “Now leave,” he repeated.

Lloyd huffed out a breath. Obviously, he wasn't going to leave. But he needed the mugger to think he was, so he could come back from behind and catch him off guard.

He tried to catch Mari’s eye, and once their eyes met, he sent her a look promising that he’d be back soon.

The criminal pressed the knife tighter to Mari’s neck, and she cried out as blood started to seep down the metal. “Stop,” Lloyd ordered, backing away with his hands up. “I’m going.” With a sigh, he reluctantly left the alley, crossing the street, though he kept his eye on the two of them.

Once he was out of sight — which also meant he was unable to see them, unfortunately — Lloyd hurried to the side of the street out of the man’s view and quickly scaled up the side of a building.

He cursed under his breath when he peeked over the edge and saw that the guy was still holding Mari with the knife to her throat.

“He’s gone, you can let go of me now,” he heard her say. He pleaded in his head for her to stop talking; Lloyd didn't want her to aggravate the man further.

“Shut up.” The man was apparently done scanning the surroundings and believed that the green ninja had left the area, so he released Mari. “Now give me everything you have, and quickly. I’m not stupid enough to believe that green freak won’t show up again,” the mugger barked out. He yelled at his accomplice to get up, but the guy was still out cold.

“Seriously, leave me alone,” Mari said again, looking far too calm for the situation she was in. She even went so far as to cross her arms and glare at the man in distaste. If Lloyd hadn't been so busy thinking of a new plan, he’d yell at her to stop escalating the situation.

“Just do what I say, bitch,” the man spat, his knife dangerously close to her.

Lloyd’s heart started racing, but he took a few, quick deep breaths to calm himself. Panicking would not help the situation.

“Do not call me that,” Mari snapped, growing visibly irritated, arms dropping to curl her fists at her sides. The action made the criminal sneer, stepping closer. For a brief second, Mari looked away from the man to look up at where Lloyd was perched up on the roof.

It was then he realized what she was doing: distracting him so Lloyd could ambush him. He stealthily slid down the wall and reached for his abandoned sword. Doing so let out a sound that announced his arrival as it scraped against the ground, but by that point, Lloyd had already pointed the tip of his sword in the criminal's back.

Mari quickly backed out of the thug’s range and stepped back to let Lloyd do his thing. (His thing being smacking the thug with the flat of his sword.)

It wasn't hard to disarm and restrain the assailant now that a civilian wasn't actively in harm’s way, and Lloyd soon had him kneeling on the ground next to his buddy, who was still lying unconscious on the floor.

Turning away from the two apprehended criminals, Lloyd looked back at Mari. Blood dotted the shallow cut on her throat. Lloyd grimaced. “Are you alright?” he asked her, taking a slight step closer.

She gingerly touched the wound, bringing her fingers away to stare at the blood that came away from the cut. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice was steady, but Lloyd feared she could be in shock.

“Do you need any help getting home?” he offered, glancing over his shoulder to check on the two muggers.

Mari shook her head. “No, it’s okay,” she answered. She cleared her throat, tilting her head toward her assailants. “You probably need to get those guys arrested or something.”

Lloyd frowned. “Keeping a civilian safe is more important to me than doing the police’s job for them,” he scoffed. “They’re already on their way. Really, it’s no trouble,” he reassured, hoping she’d accept his offer. She’d told Lloyd that she lived with Skylor, which admittedly wasn’t that far, but he still wanted to make sure she got home safely.

“I’m good,” she told him again, eyes narrowing. Great, now she thinks you’re being weird. “I can get home fine.”

His fingers twitched at his sides. Blowing out a breath, Lloyd crossed his arms. “I insist, miss. It’s not the safest out here,” he reasoned. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted red and blue lights approaching.

The two muggers had been securely restrained, so he should get moving. He didn’t have anything to stick around for.

Except for her. For some reason, he was reluctant to leave Mari to head home alone.

She still didn’t look convinced with his offer, so Lloyd added, “Besides, I need to get away from this scene anyway.” Mari scoffed, preparing to retort back, and Lloyd gave her a sigh, growing tired with her careless refusal. “I won’t force you to let me drop you off, but I’d rest easier knowing you got home safe,” he admitted with a grumble.

Whatever protest Mari had been about to make seemed to die on her tongue. She glanced back at where police cars approached. “Alright,” she conceded with a huff. “Let’s go. Quickly. I don’t want to deal with the police.”

Lloyd quirked a brow at that, but didn’t say anything. He’d be a hypocrite to say he felt differently.

“Are you alright?” Lloyd asked again after a while of walking. The streets were quiet as they did so, but Lloyd kept a vigilant eye on the streets and up on the roofs. Mari sent him a look, raising a brow. “Your neck. You were bleeding, but it looks like it’s stopped now,” he explained.

She blinked. “Oh yeah,” she said simply. “Forgot about that. It doesn’t hurt too much anymore,” Mari told him, running a gentle finger across the shallow wound.

His eyes tracked the movement. A frown crossed Lloyd's face at the cut, lips pulling down tightly. “You need to be more careful,” he chided firmly. “Especially around these parts, and especially at night. This city isn’t always safe, you know.”

Mari gave him a sideways glance, looking none too happy about being scolded. “I am careful. I just got out of work late. And isn’t it your job to keep the city safe?” she volleyed, stuffing her hands into her pocket.

“We can’t always be everywhere all the time to stop crime from happening at all,” Lloyd countered. Distantly, he wondered why Mari was being so thorny with him.

“That doesn't mean it’s my fault some thugs decided to mug me,” she scoffed, shaking her head.

Lloyd said nothing in return. She was right, but that didn't mean it couldn't have been prevented if she’d been more careful. Nevertheless, he stayed quiet. For some reason, Mari appeared to be growing irritated, and Lloyd didn't want to anger her further.

They continued the walk in silence, with Lloyd scanning the surroundings every so often and ensuring nothing was lurking around the corner.

Eventually, they reached what Lloyd recognized as Skylor’s apartment complex.

“Well,” he said, “good night, miss.” She walked further ahead, not stopping for a second. Lloyd huffed out a breath and shook his head, turning to leave.

“Thank you.”

He looked over his shoulder to see Mari now facing him with hesitance in her eyes.

“For walking me home,” she said. “And for helping me earlier.”

Lloyd raised his eyebrows, a small chuckle escaping him at the sudden change of attitude. “It’s no problem, miss,” he replied smoothly, eyes filling with amusement. “Stay safe out there.” He watched Mari go through the glass door, and once she was inside, gave her a small finger salute before turning away.

His thoughts remained on her as he hopped over buildings and leapt onto the roof of a train, getting a ride closer to the monastery.

The interaction was strange, to say the least. She definitely acted differently with the Green Ninja than with Lloyd Garmadon. Funny, he thought to himself with an amused huff. She’s more prickly with the city's savior than its scourge.

——————————

It was the weekend, and me and Skylor had decided to take a little break from work and school to spend a day hanging out. There were loads of places to go in the bustling modern city of Ninjago, but I was aching for a chance to escape the metropolitan cityscape and relax somewhere more open, so when Skylor suggested a hike, I immediately agreed.

(However, a slight problem arose when I had to wear loose clothes for the hike, exposing the cut on my neck. Convincing Skylor that it was from falling onto the kitchen counter was a struggle.)

Even though we were already halfway into September now, the air was still humid in this area, up atop the mountainous hills far from the city.

The winding path we hiked on provided a good challenge for us. We were a little out of breath from the steep inclines, and I could feel my legs burning from the exertion. (Had it been so long since I’d worked out that I was already getting tired? I’d have to start again sometime.)

We were both fit and in good shape, I deduced — Skylor went to the gym, after all. Still, both of us decided to rest and take a breather after a while.

Taking a sip of my water, I glanced around the area, scanning the surroundings before allowing myself to drink in the beautiful sight we were making our way through. We sat on a couple of boulders that faced the edge of a miniature cliff, a small creek in the glen below providing a calm trickling sound.

“This place is beautiful,” I commented to Skylor after a minute. “I’m glad we came here.”

She smiled, capping off her own water bottle. “I used to come here a lot, before I owned the restaurant. I haven't been here in a while — I’m glad you like it,” Skylor told me, fanning herself with a hand.

I smiled and mimicked the action, feeling sweat sticking my clothes to my body.

At that moment, a breeze drifted lazily through the canopy of trees, providing a cool respite from the humidity. My eyes closed as I breathed in the gust of crisp air.

“That's strange,” Skylor remarked.

“Hm?” I hummed, not opening my eyes yet.

“That breeze. We’re under a canopy of trees,” she explained. “It’s weird that there's wind running through here.”

Opening my eyes, I noticed that her eyes were narrowed a bit, brow scrunched in thought. My head tilted to the side. “Yeah, I guess that's kinda weird,” I agreed absentmindedly. My gaze went back to take in the nice view around us, but I could feel Skylor’s eyes on me. After a while, I stretched my legs out and stood up. “Ready to get moving again?” I offered her a hand.

Skylor didn't move for a second, but then nodded and said, “Yeah. Let's go.” She clasped my hand and rose from her seat on the rock.

The rest of the hike was quite nice. We reached the peak of the small mountain and spent some time relaxing atop it before making the trek back down. By the time we reached the bottom, my legs burned and I was sweating all over, but any stress had been washed away.

All too quickly, our hike was over and we headed back home, washing off the day’s sweat. The remaining few hours before we’d tuck in for bed were surprisingly quiet — since we’d gotten back, Skylor had been in a pensive state.

I didn’t mind the quiet too much. It was a nice way to finish the day.

Once the sun set and the sky had faded into its inky black color, I decided to put on a show. Skylor was still in her room, so I sent her a text from where I sat on the couch letting her know in case she wanted to join.

She didn’t reply, but I shrugged it off, figuring she probably went to bed early. However, an uneasy feeling was twisting its way through my gut, so I quickly sent my whispers to check in on her.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, and I could feel from the wisps that she was perfectly still and motionless, probably still stuck in that reflective state. I heard her breaths and her heart beating, and relaxed.

Just as I retracted the tendrils of air, I felt her stiffen, and her demeanor changed. My brow creased in thought — and concern — but before I could listen for more, she’d gotten up and walked out of her room. I let the whispers fade into nothing, sending her a perplexed smile.

“You alright, Sky?” I asked, muting the show. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Yep. I’m fine,” Skylor answered smoothly. Her face and tone were relaxed, but I felt that there was something stirring in her thoughts.

I raised a skeptical eyebrow, but turned back to the show. “Gonna join me?” I flicked the remote back to the TV, unmuting it and going back to where I’d left off.

Behind me, Skylor hummed in thought. “Not tonight. But I did want to talk to you about something,” she replied. I paused the show again, turning back to her. She was inspecting her nails, her casual attitude making me think she was anything but.

“What’s up?” I asked. My eyes flickered between the show and her, but I decided watching both wasn’t working, so I turned the screen off completely.

Skylor glanced at me. Her mouth opened, but then closed. Whatever words she’d been wanting to say seemingly disappeared. Instead, what she said surprised me.

“What do you think of the Secret Ninja Force?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, striding over to the couch and resting her arms on the back of it. “What’s your opinion of them?” she rephrased, watching me with a careful eye.

My face twisted in confusion for a second, but I humored her question anyway. “I don’t really have an opinion on them, actually,” I told her. “I mean, it’s nice they do stuff for the world and all that. They’re still vigilantes, though.”

Skylor stared at me, her eyes searching me. I shifted uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze. “Do you know anything about their powers? Or how they’re able to do what they do?”

Where was this conversation going? I couldn’t read what Skylor’s intentions were with these questions, and that unsettled me.

“Not really.”

That was a lie. But admittedly, what I knew was very little, and I doubted that telling her the truth would lead to anything besides trouble. I trusted that Skylor wouldn’t sell me out to the cops if I revealed I knew something about the ninja — anything that could help the police build their case on them — but I couldn’t afford not to be cautious. Especially because of what happened with Hideo.

My answer seemed to be different than what Skylor was expecting. Disappointment briefly flickered in her eyes. She frowned, but kept her features collected and (mostly) neutral. “You know, Mari,” she said, “I think that the sooner you open yourself up, the sooner you’ll feel truly free.”

With that, she retreated to her room again, leaving me sitting stunned on the sofa.

——————————

A/N: Whew, that was the longest chapter so far (and it definitely felt like it while writing, haha).

Dipped a toe into Mari's knowledge of the elemental powers in this chap, can't wait to dive deeper!

Thanks for reading!

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#lego ninjago #lloyd garmadon #lloyd garmadon x oc #lloyd garmadon x reader #ninjago fic #ninjago x oc #coracal's fics: north wind

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twilight-skies · 1 year

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I can’t believe it’s been a year, and I also can’t believe it’s finished.

So I guess I’m two days late posting this, but it was the night of the 30th that I realized that was the anniversary and not July first. So I only had the time to finally finish it last night. Close enough.

A year ago now we all were given the news of Technoblade’s passing, and a few days afterwards I got the idea to build something for him in my own solo survival world. Over the last year I’ve been slowly on-and-off working on it, and as it took so long to become how I wanted, I decided to get it finished by the first anniversary and share it with everyone then.

(View of the front and reverse)

I first had the idea of a small hollowed out cave with dark oak trees at the entrance and a decorated room inside, and I then chose a small cove along the coast that my base is on. There, I first drained out the water and started building into the land.

Between several design changes and resource trips; making the trees and roof by hand when I realized it was too cramped to grow them; a creeper falling out of the fucking sky to not only destroy a double chest full of supplies and the entire entrance, but also give me (what I believe was) my first death in the world’s history; the painstaking process of sand-draining as well as some very long decoration-hunting; terraforming the cove to make it look more natural; and finally finding all of the quotes I wanted to put in, this has been quite the build. Don’t let the small size fool you.

While this is my survival world, I like to think of it as a work of art that is forever in the making (mostly because that’s how I keep myself from abandoning every project. look I swear now that this is finished I’ll get to the barn.) so while the glass path may look slightly awkward (and I may make it better at a far later date), the rest of it fits right in perfectly, as it will for the rest of the world’s existence. I’m incredibly happy with how it turned out and I hope you guys do too. Below and in the reblogs are all the photos I took, so if you reblog this yourself please do so with the version with all of the pictures.

GG Alex, take this as a humble gapple in your eternal duel with god.

Also, I’d like to think that he’d approve of the fact that several impromptu chicken murders were committed in the creation of this monument.

Also also, sorry for the light glares in most of the photos, I couldn’t avoid it.

The entrance:

(the front of my base is on the other side of the mountain, built into the entire thing)

Left and right walls:

I knew from the beginning that I wanted to add quotes on the walls. What I ended up doing was make a book filled with all of the other good ones I collected, and all the space I had for signs on the walls was used to write out my favorite of all of Techno’s quotes, aka the Skyblock monologue. (Which SAD-ist also animated as their own tribute to him.)

There are more photos, but due to Tumblr’s limit they will all be in the next couple reblogs.

#technoblade #mcyt #technoblade never dies #Minecraft #Minecraft builds #mcytblr #cc!technoblade

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quibbs126 · 1 year

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So I’ve been trying to do this darkrasp kid for ages, but I swear, I just cannot draw them

And it’s not so much from lack of ideas (I mean, I don’t have many ideas for them but I do have a few, though mostly for design), it’s just that I cannot will myself to. I think it’s because I’ve tried and failed to draw them twice already. It’s like when you’re trying to draw something, and it just doesn’t look right, so you erase and redraw the same thing over and over again, and by the end the paper’s gotten ruined from the constant erasing and drawing

I first tried to draw them way back in I believe March (which was…Christ like 4 months ago now), around when I drew Raspberry Cheesecake, as I was doing them both at the time. Hell I even mentioned the darkrasp kid in that post, and that they both existed in the same universe as second cousins, since I imagined that they would be finished next. And at that time I think I was doing well, I had an idea of where I was going

But the problem came in the form of their sword. See, Raspberry has a fencing sword (I believe a rapier), and Dark Choco has what I believe to be a greatsword. So I wanted to try and come up with something in the middle for this kid, something that still looked like a blade like Dark Choco’s, but not nearly as wide. Then I discovered basket hilt swords and decided that was the perfect solution

I was able to come up with the blade just fine, but then the problem came in the form of the hilt, because I just could not make a hilt that looked right for the blade. It looked like I stuck two completely different swords together, and the hilt always looked too small for the blade

I don’t have any pictures of the hilt, but I can show you the blade and how far I got in the original drawing

I really liked the blade and how it looks, but I could not get the hilt to look right, so eventually I just gave up and decided that I’d simply come back to them another day. However unfortunately, I didn’t, probably because I knew I still had no solution for the sword, and so they remained, currently being one of the two oldest requests I have, right next to velvetgatto (which I also mean literally, as the canvases are right next to each other)

(Also I should mention, the blade would have gone under the arms. Which now that I’m thinking about it, may have just covered up the hilt entirely, but also for the type of hilt I was going for, it probably would have still shown)

Anyways, so then, when we were flying over to England, I decided I’d take another stab at it, seeing as how I’d drawn Ficelle and he’d ended up pretty good, so I was on a roll it seemed

I was trying to just draw the character, and I got farther than last time, but on the plane ride, I couldn’t really focus and get much done, possibly because the plane was shaking a bit as we lifted off, and I can’t really focus on drawing in a moving vehicle. I also believed perhaps I was a little burnt out, like how I felt when I talked about Vanilly some time ago, so I thought I should just leave it for now and resume again later

But then, I never did, partially because I just couldn’t figure out where to go next, and this was all I had

I tried again earlier today, but I end up just staring at the screen. So then I thought “maybe I should just start over once more, start again with a clean slate”. But then I’m looking at the empty canvas, and I have no clue what to do

I think at this point the canvas might just be so tainted with the past failings that I can’t bring myself to think of anything. Like I’ve created this stigma against them, and now this one has been in a deficit and just mindset of “I’ll work on it later” that I just can’t think of anything

And it’s not so much a Zuccotto situation where I don’t do anything because I have no clue what to do for the character. I have some ideas, like they’re a swordsman and wear white (bc both Dark Choco and Raspberry have Costumes where they wear white), and that their hair has black and pink, with both streaks and a gradient that goes into the same pink (though I’m also considering the idea of changing the black to a very dark pink, in part because of a new name for them), but I just can’t draw them

I feel like I need to just start from the ground up; like I don’t have many ideas about their actual character, other than they’re a swordsman, and they seem to be a more nervous and/or cautious individual, possibly due to the legacies of both their lineages, but that’s not much to work with. Plus I’m realizing that sounds a bit too much like Choco Madeleine. But then what should I do?

Oh also, something I was gonna mention but didn’t know where, I’m also thinking of changing their name. Originally it was Black Forest Cookie, since I couldn’t find any big thing with dark chocolate and raspberries, so just change raspberries with cherries, but now I’ve got two new ideas in the form of Black/Dark Raspberry Cookie (bc black raspberries), or Raspberry Jam Cookie (bc of my recent headcanon that Dark Choco and his dad have some jam in their dough flavor, and here it would end up being raspberry jam)

Honestly, at this point maybe I should just delete the original canvas and just make a new one, because the original has just been tainted at this point

#sorry I don’t know if there was much point to this I just wanted to complain #also don’t know I give them sad eyes #in the second I was just emulating the original #but yeah might as well take some suggestions if you want to give some #I just want to finish them #cookie run #cookie run oc #fankid #fanchild #darkrasp #dark choco cookie #raspberry cookie #random stuff #wip

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yourlocalgaybean · 2 years

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Pj Masks Au (featuring my oc’s)

Ok, I’m a little nervous to post this but we’ll see how it goes! Since I have 16 more parts of this lol. I’d rate the whole thing 13+ as it contains a small amounts of swearing, dark humour, dark topics and death.

Part 1

‘Pj masks we’re on our way into the night to save they day’

Connor, Greg and Amaya transform into their hero forms Catboy, Gekko and Owlette and appear at their H.Q. Owlette heads over to the picture player and begins to study their camera, ‘What villain do you think will be causing mischief tonight?’ She asks Catboy and Gekko. They two boys move forward and study the current image on the picture player- they both stay silent- studying a white figure on top of a building. Amaya, about to question Catboy and Gekko again- also notices the figure and started for a moment. ‘Who’s- that?’ Owlette questions nervously. She didn’t expect and answer. ‘A new villain?’ Gekko asks.

‘You can’t answer a question with a question Gekko… To the catcar!’ Catboy replies. And with that they were out on the streets of Tarabiscoville.

The three of them planned to go to the building where the figure was sitting, hoping to catch them by surprise. The ride was only going to be a few minutes long, but Owlette decided it was still a good time to ask more questions. ‘So, do you really think it’s a villain- I mean it could be another hero?’ Owlette spoke with little confidence.

‘At this point, I don’t think we’re getting anymore help.’ Catboy countered.

‘Surely it could be a hero?’ Gekko questioned. Catboy looked at Owlette and shook his head. The three of them arrive at the building. The all go up to the top to confront the mystery nighttime person.

‘Hello?’ the figure said before the Pj masks had time to say anything, no one noticed the girls thick English accent. She didn’t turn around just continued sitting. The three heroes didn’t say anything and continued to stare at the strange figure. They could briefly make out a white outline of the girl’s white hair, and perhaps a kind of hero suit. ‘Who are you?’ questioned Greg- his voice was filled with nervousness, though he was in fact very curious of who the girl was. Finally, the girl stood up and turned around, ‘I’m Crystal, don’t you remember me from school?’ The girl finally said.

The three pj masks stared at crystal, for a moment, before she broke the silence, ‘Amaya, Greg, Connor. What exactly are you?’

Amaya, Greg and Connor exchanged glances, ‘We’re the Pj masks! We protect this city at night from the villains- which there seems to be a lack of in this moment. Oh and also Please don’t call us by our daytime names- us being the Pj masks is a secret. I’m Catboy’ Connor admitted ‘This is Owlette,’ he points at Amaya, ‘and this is Gekko’ he points at Greg.

‘So you guys run around at night- in pyjamas- and fight villains?’ Crystal asked.

‘Exactly!!’ Owlette responded ‘Anything wrong with that?’

‘No, of course not you’re doing a great thing!’ Crystal replied. ‘Except, I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Gekko confused

‘Well, I was England a few days ago- and somehow woke up here, and from what I can tell I’ve somehow ended up in America! I decided to go to your school to see if I could find out what was going on! And now I’m here with the Pj masks!’ Crystal sounded confident in what she was saying though not one person believed her.

‘So you’re you came from another world or something!’ Amaya asked ‘Isn’t that-‘

‘Impossible?’ Crystal finished ‘Apparently not’

#pj masks au #pj masks #catboy #owlette #gekko #fanfiction #idk what im doing #first story #writng #pj masks owlette #pj masks gekko #pj masks catboy #I don’t like Connor one bit #My oc’s are actually great

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theundertalenebulartheory · 1 year

Text

Deleted Post Ch.17 Scene (Kindof NSFW but not really)

So, uh, if you read Chapter 17 then you know that uh... things did not exactly end on a happy note. And you can probably guess that Frisk is going to take us further back in time now to see if they can fix the disaster that happened there. BUT while I was struggling to write Chapter 17 and couldn't quite figure out where I was going with it I started a Post-17-But-Still-In-The-Same-Timeline thing.

Got halfway through it.

Got inspiration for Ch. 17

Wrote Ch. 17 and realized that uhhh.... now the stuff I'd written was kindof... not going to work anymore largely due to the fact that there is no more Timeline #144 so...

Now it's a Deleted Scene that maybe possibly I will reuse later??? Idk though. We'll see how the scene changes play out and timeline changes work out. For now, I finished writing the Schmutz for funzies. BUT if you have any commentary to add that you feel might be helpful in allowing me to navigate the Aro/Ace experience this might be a good space for me to workshop some stuff before it goes in the fic.

Thank and Enjoy~

You were already looking up at the top of the stairs from the kitchen table when Papyrus appeared, chopstick in your hand shoved down into the cast covering your forearm. “Doc said it was allowed,” you started, a bit defensive, but Papyrus just shook his head at you and padded quickly down the stairs.

“I Know.” You blinked at the soft tone, surprised, but to be fair it was pretty late at night. “Can You Not Sleep?”

“No. Painkillers wore off a while ago and the thing has been itching like crazy. I know it’s still pretty fresh, but I’m being careful.”

“Your Battle Wound Is Very Impressive. A Monster With A Similar Injury Would Have Turned To Dust. But In Only A Few Weeks, You Will Be As Good As You Were Before Monday. Humans Are Truly Impressive Warriors.” He nodded and sat across from you, twiddling his fingers. Your lips quirked into a wry smile at how he was already fidgeting after only just sitting down. Usually he could sit still for a few minutes at least before getting twitchy, but he seemed a little extra agitated tonight.

Not that you blamed him.

“I’m not sure I’d call that impressive so much as ‘batshit insane.’ But to be fair, it did work.”

He gasped, a little more loudly than was maybe appropriate for 11:30 at night, but seemed cowed at your wince and returned his voice to a reasonable volume. “You Were Amazing! Such Power! Such Passion! And When You Called For Me To Throw You A Bone And Then You Actually Caught It! You Were On Fire! Almost Literally, But Also Metaphorically!”

You groaned and rubbed your forehead, leaving the chopstick stuck in your cast. “Sans is never going to let me live down the fact that I actually said ‘bone me’ in public. I am so, so glad you knew what I meant.”

“I Assumed In The Middle Of A Riot Would Be A Terribly Inappropriate Time For The Kind Of Boning That Sans Usually Means When He Is Teasing, And I Too Am Glad That My Assumption Proved To Be Correct.” He nodded, squirming in his chair, but covered it up with a flourish of his hands. “Actually, You Have Been Dazzling Me A Lot Recently With Your Incredible Spirit And Enthusiasm! Like When We Were Training The Other Day And You Pinned Me Against The Tree. I… It Was… You were…”

“You can say “cringe,” homie. I won’t be offended.” You grinned and winked at him, a soft blush staining your cheeks. Papyrus, on the other hand, gasped again and jumped to his feet.

“Never! I Haven’t Been Able To Sleep A Wink Since That Moment! It Keeps Replaying In My Mind, Over And Over Again.”

You winced, finally pulling the chopstick out of your cast, and slumped in your seat with an apologetic frown. “Pup, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You felt my… intent, right? I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I swear. You just kept leaving openings in your attack patterns. I just wanted to make sure you knew that this was serious. That you could really get hurt if you let someone get through your pattern. I know it seems unfair and unsportsmanlike but you SAW what it was like on Monday. Right? You saw how close we were to losing Undyne.”

You rubbed your sternum, feeling the thread of connection pulling straight out of your chest towards Papyrus and the two threads pulling up towards the second floor. Confirmation that you had done something initially. But the moment with Undyne had been so scary, so intense. Nothing like that had happened with Papyrus or Sans. You were happy to have walked away from that (uhh… metaphorically speaking. You definitely had not actually walked away under your own power that day after everything that had happened) event with just a broken arm and a soul that was slow regaining color and opacity but now you had even more questions than answers about the entire… well… everything.

Papyrus firmly shook his head. “No. No, No. On The Contrary, I Find Myself Inspired! I Did Feel Your Intent. Your Passion. I Felt Your Soul Blaze Within You. The Energy In Your Eyes As You Pressed My Own Magic Against My Throat. Your Hips Immobilizing Me.” Your cheeks burned and you had to use your remaining good hand to cover your embarrassed groan. “I Felt Your Intent. I… Want To Feel That Intent Again.”

You peeked up at him through your fingers and squeaked in surprise when you found he’d moved himself right next to your chair, his face almost touching yours as he bent over to try to catch your eyes. “Wagh! Bro.” You pushed him back a little and fanned your face to try to get some of the furious blush to calm down. “Uh… listen. I’m flattered. Honestly. But the last time I tried to, like… be sweet about our weird soul-connection thing, you literally ran away. I’m not gonna lie, that sends some mixed signals. I’m going to need you to tell me in no uncertain terms how you see this working out. And, honestly, I kindof feel like Sans should be here for some of that because he’s kindof involved with this whole thing. And I don’t really know how you want, ideally, our whole… thing… to pan out. In a perfect world, how do you see our situation going forward?”

“Oh! Well That Is Very Easy. You See, Sans Is A Romantic. And I Am Aromantic! But That Is Okay Because You Are Also A Romantic. So You Can Be Sweet And Romantic With Him And You Can Be Passionate With Me! Sans Is Much Too Lazy For Such Feats Of Passion And Would Not Be Interested In Them Anyways,” he shrugged, “So We Can All Be One Big Happy Family Together Because We Can Share With Each Other The Things We Like The Most! Everyone Wins! It Is A Win-Win-Win Situation! Which Is Even Better Than The Win-Win Situations Most People Aim For! The Great Papyrus Excels At All Things! Even Relationships!”

You kneaded your forehead. “Right. Figures. So… just to make sure I’m understanding you correctly. P L E A S E correct me if I am wrong. You are aromantic, and Sans is asexual? So you don’t want anything romantic ever? And he doesn’t want anything sexual ever? And you would be ok with sharing because you want opposite things?”

“Well, No, You See… Because It Is About Intent!” Papyrus nodded again and sat down once more at his seat. “Sans Is Not So Much Interested In Passionate Intent. And I Am Not So Much Interested In Romantic Intent! One Can Participate In A Large Variety Of Activities With Passionate Intent! And One Can Participate In A Large Variety Of Activities With Romantic Intent! It Is Very Simple.”

You blinked at him and shifted your hand down to press over your mouth. You really needed to keep it shut for a moment or two. You’d suspected, when Sans had explained why Papyrus had run off all those weeks ago, the aromantic/asexual dichotomy between the two of them. There were just too many things they were complete opposites about. Too many things they were identical about. You were starting to suspect that somehow… somehow the two of them were connected in some way. Literally. Like your soul connection. They were two sides of the same coin in the most literal way you’d ever witnessed. And when you’d considered the possibility of one having been given the appetite for one thing and the other having the appetite for the other, that maybe there was a chance they’d want to share in a way that would allow a partner to be able to keep the two activities separate. Having two people with opposite needs set up a bit of a balance that you’d wondered if you could maintain.

This, though… kindof threw a monkey-wrench into the works. Those needs were less cut-and-dry than you’d been thinking they were and that added an element of complexity you weren’t sure you could juggle without breaking things.

“Uhhhhh… … what.”

“Oh, Did You Not Hear Me? I Said-”

“I heard…” You rubbed your forehead again. “I’m just… processing. So… Ok. Uh. Hm. That’s… uh… great? It’s great. I’m happy to hear that. Thank you for telling me.”

You were starting to regret not having taken your pain meds on time. They might have helped with the headache you were going to give yourself trying to figure out what this was going to mean for your house full of monsters. “Are You Sure? Because You Do Not Look Like You Are Very Happy To Hear That.”

You put your hand down on the table and sighed, then smiled more genuinely. “Sorry. I am. I really am. I’m grateful that you trust me enough to tell me that. It takes a lot of courage and bravery to be honest about who you are and what your boundaries are. I promise I intend to respect them. I’m just thinking. I told you guys that I could be cool about the soul-connections because I didn’t want to ruin anything happening between us. I love you both. I don’t… I need to be able to hear from Sans too.”

“OH! Well That Is Also Very Easy! I Will Fetch Him Immediately!”

“Papyrus don’t you dare! If he’s asleep…”

It was a little too late, now that Papyrus had made it up the stairs in two great bounds and disappeared into the dark of the house. You groaned miserably and grabbed your bottle of pain meds by the sink, taking the dose you should have taken four hours ago with a quick gulp from the cup you’d been nursing at the table. As you pulled your cup away from your face you felt the tension on your connection grow slack and all at once Papyrus was setting a bleary-eyed Sans on his feet in front of you. “mmwherezafire?”

“Oh, geez, sorry. I didn’t mean for him to go get you right now. Sorry. Come here…” You scooped him up and started carrying him down the stairs to the couch you’d been sleeping on with a jerk of your head aimed at Papyrus. Sans started to protest a little, but gave up as soon as you had him snugly tucked against you and you dropped a little kiss on the side of his head.

“mm. you know just when i need a good pick-me-up. heh.”

“You too, Pap. We don’t need to wake up the whole house.”

You lead Pap down the stairs and plopped on the couch, shifting Sans around a little so you could snuggle him more easily while sitting. Papyrus was more than happy to sprawl out on the floor at your feet, posture much more relaxed now that he didn’t have to keep himself contained to a chair. You had half a mind to pull the blanket up over Sans since Pap pulled him out of bed but after reaching for it with your broken arm and wincing at the stinging throb of your still-barely-touching bones protesting, you decided the snuggle was fine how it was.

“So… Pap and I were just talking about… uh… things.”

“We were discussing our sexual preferences!” Papyrus offered helpfully, a matching set of blushes erupting over your face and Sans’ face at the same moment.

“Yep. Thanks bud.”

“uh… can i go back upstairs, please?”

“No.” You kissed the top of his head again. “You said you wanted us all to get to know each other better and that means uncomfortable conversations. I can use one of my 14 questions if you want.”

Sans groaned miserably in your lap and tossed an arm over his eyes so he didn’t have to face what was coming. “do i have to?”

“Yep. No Take-Backs. If you were going to regret this you had two weeks to change your mind! How’s being snuggled and smooched all the time going for you, by the way?”

“heh…” He shifted his arm just enough to peek up at you with a shy dusting of light blue over his cheekbones and the corners of his eye sockets crinkling. “it’s fine.”

“Good. Now. Uh… there’s not really any delicate way to say this without it being at least a little awkward so I’ll just be blunt. I love both of you guys, and now that we’re being more honest about ourselves it’s probably about time I tell you both that I’ll do literally anything for you. Including NOT talking about my more-than-just-friends feelings I have for you. I want both of you to be happy. I want both of you to have everything you could ever want. And that includes any amount of physical affection you might want or need. But I don’t want any amount of relationship furthering to make anyone else upset. You were weirdly onboard with me having a soul connection to both you and Papyrus, which is a whole other thing I want to ask you about. But for now I need to know how you feel about sharing more than just platonic affection between the two of you. What are you comfortable with? What are you uncomfortable with? What about me and my relationship are you ok with sharing with Papyrus and what are you not ok with me sharing with Papyrus?”

“hoo boy. uh. ok. let’s see… that’s… one, two, three, four…”

You snorted and flicked his chin, making him snicker. “Alright, wise guy. I’ll summarize all that in one question like I did with Pap just a minute ago. In a perfect world, how would you like to see our relationship threesome progress and develop?” Sans wheezed at the phrasing and you rolled your eyes at him with red cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I said ‘threesome.’ Would you prefer the word ‘throuple?’”

He wheezed even harder, blushing a nearly neon blue and rolling out of your grip. “can’t sit on your lap while you say that,” he giggled, sprawling out on the floor at your feet.

“I PREFER THE TERM ‘TRIO’ MYSELF! THOUGH I HAVE RECENTLY BEEN INTRODUCED TO SOME VIDEO GAMES AND THE TERM TRIFORCE MIGHT BE APPROPRIATE TOO!”

“Oh, I’m about to ‘triforce’ something, alright.”

Sans snorted before bursting out laughing harder, making you grab your blanket with your good arm and toss it at his head with an emphatic shush. The blanket helped to muffle his giggling, and you couldn’t help but snicker at just how contagious his laugh was. When they finally settled down you yoinked the blanket off of him and nudged him with your foot. “Alright, come on. Perfect world. Relationship including yourself, myself, and Pap’s self. How does that go down in a perfect world for you?”

“Uh, woah, hey. Uh… Pap… got to answer first, right? Uh. Bro. Pal. You wanna… share with the, uh, class? What’d I miss?”

Papyrus nodded and sat up stick-straight, one hand on his chest as he repeated himself for Sans. “I SIMPLY SAID THAT YOU ARE A ROMANTIC. AND I AM AROMANTIC! SO YOU CAN BE SWEET AND ROMANTIC WITH OUR HUMAN, WHICH IS TO SAY THAT THE TWO OF YOU CAN SHARE A WHOLE HOST OF ACTIVITIES THAT HAVE ROMANTIC INTENT BEHIND THEM, AND I CAN BE PASSIONATE WITH OUR HUMAN, WHICH IS TO SAY THAT I WOULD LIKE VERY MUCH TO SHARE IN A HOST OF ACTIVITIES THAT HAVE PASSIONATE INTENTIONS! WE CAN ALL BE ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY TOGETHER BECAUSE WE CAN SHARE WITH EACH OTHER THE THINGS WE LIKE THE MOST!”

Sans blinked at him and rolled his head to the side to grin at you with a wink. “well, there you go. couldn’t have said it better myself.”

You rubbed your face. “Ok. But like… making out. Sex. Like I get the whole ‘intent’ thing but I need you people to be painfully explicit with me here. If I kiss one or both of you, will either of you be upset about it? If I jump Papyrus will you be hurt or upset?”

Sans shrugged, though with the blush creeping up his neck and the squint to his eye sockets it might have been more of a cringe. “uh… i mean… no? i don’t think so. if you start to pick favorites it might suck. but as far as jealousy? that stuff? nah.”

You raised an eyebrow at Papyrus and gestured with a twirl of your hand for him to continue the conversation. “Pap? Hurt? Angry if I make out with Sans or spend the night with him? Jealous?”

“ABSO-POSITIVELY-LUTELY NOT! SO LONG AS WE ARE BEING VERY HONEST ABOUT OUR FEELINGS AND TALKING ABOUT OUR NEEDS! IF I AM FEELING LIKE SANS IS GETTING A LOT OF KISSES AND CUDDLES AND I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A TURN BEING SHOWERED IN KISSES TOO, WILL YOU BE UPSET IF I TELL YOU?”

You shook your head, feeling maybe a little overwhelmed by the idea of trying to keep up with both of their needs. But to be fair, neither of them had been exactly what you would call ‘needy’ individuals to begin with. So maybe… maybe something like this could work out? “Of course not. You’re my boys. As long as you’re ok with sharing and nobody’s feeling betrayed or anything.”

“so… perfect world for you?” Sans grinned and winked. “can’t ask if you can’t answer.”

You sighed and leaned your elbows on your knees. Where to even start with that kind of question? WAS there really such a thing as a perfect world scenario? Could you really even hope for such a thing in a way that didn’t sound totally selfish? “Honestly, it’s honesty. Cheesy as that might sound. In a perfect world, we’d trust each other enough to say what we feel and when our feelings change, we can be honest with each other about it. I’m not stupid enough to try to paint some pretty picture of us all holding hands skipping through a field of flowers together as the ideal ‘perfect’ image I have in my head. You guys mean everything to me. In a perfect world, I… will never have to say goodbye forever to you guys. You’ll be in my life in some way for as long as I’m still around. And after this,” you held your broken arm up and wiggled it a little with a smirk, “I’m not sure how long that will be. But that includes the possibility that maybe we try this ‘trio’ thing and figure out that it doesn’t work. Maybe we find out that it does. But either way, I just would ask that even if it feels dumb or trivial, please be honest about how you’re feeling.”

“A NOBLE AND PRACTICAL REQUEST!” Papyrus nodded, shifting to his knees so he could stretch over and hug you around the middle. “I DO!”

You choked and wheezed, hugging him back with barely restrained tears of laughter stinging the corners of your eyes and your tone pitched a little higher than usual. “Thanks buddy.”

Sans snickered a little too, rolling over to join the hug with a wink that sparkled with humor. He murmured softly in your ear, his own voice pitched a little lower than usual in contrast to your own, “i do, too.”

A strangled noise of embarrassment squeezed out of your throat and your face erupted into a bright red blush. You were positive that steam was pouring out of your ears as you squeezed your boys with a soft squeal. Sans chuckled, nuzzling into your neck at the feeling of your pulse hammering against his teeth. Not quite content with this level of embarrassment, he went for the kill shot.

“who knows. maybe you’ll get your threesome after all.”

You stood straight up, jostling your boys, now a permanent cherry red. “AAAAAAAND now I need to go for a six mile run loveyouthanksbye!”

Sans cackled from behind you on the couch while Papyrus jumped to his feet as well. “OH, I SHALL JOIN YOU! THERE IS NOTHING LIKE AN INVIGORATING RUN THROUGH A QUIET NEIGHBORHOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!”

“you guys have fun. im going back to bed. i heard sleep is great for your complexion.”

You glared at him from over your shoulder, still painfully beet red as he winked and rolled off the couch, vanishing through a shortcut. Your line of connection almost clicked in your chest with how immediate the jump from behind to above went, and it ached just a little this time. If you had to guess, it probably had something to do with your still-recovering soul and the small amount of magic energy it had. Maintaining three threads of connection wasn’t the most draining thing in the world, but it did require energy. And when one of those thread sources kept slipping through cracks in spacetime, that HAD to require some additional energy to keep up with.

Probably.

This was all still pretty new so you were just spitballing, but that seemed reasonable enough to use as an explanation for some of the unusually weird things you had been experiencing since Monday.

“WELL? SHALL WE?”

You blinked at Papyrus, some of your blush cooling down now that the source of it was upstairs. “Oh, uh, if you want to go for a run, you can. I’m not sure my arm would like it very much, though. Weird thing about being a bag of meat and blood is that when one part of the bag gets damaged, when you do something like running and pressurize the system then it will pressurize the WHOLE system. You can’t just have extra blood pumping faster in only your legs. My arm would get it too. Much as I would actually really like something to do with all this nervous energy, I think I’ll have to pass on the run tonight. Sorry.”

“WELL… MAYBE THERE COULD BE OTHER THINGS YOU COULD DO WITH YOUR ENERGY. WINK.” Papyrus winked at the same time he announced it, shifting a little closer to you and taking your hand in his. The blush returned in full force, and you were pretty sure your face was going to be stuck this color until the day you died. Which might be a lot sooner rather than later at this rate. “Perhaps I Have Some Energy That Needs An Outlet As Well.”

Well, so much for the whole ‘needing to pass on activities that would make your heart race’ thing. And truth be told your arm was starting to ache a bit because your heart WAS racing. But there was no way in hell a little thing like that was going to derail you now. Not when Papyrus was looking at you through half-lidded eyes and stepping right into your personal space like that.

Your fingertips found the crests of his hip bones sticking out over his waistband and he shivered when you kneaded the pads of your thumbs over the thin black fabric covering them. Remembering what he’d said about intent, you thought about how handsome he’d look squirming with pleasure beneath you and you kneaded there again. He gasped, eye sockets lipping closed, and caught your shoulders for support. Again, and he hunched forward.

Oh, how dearly you wanted to walk him backwards to the partition wall and press him up against it. Your heart and hands burned with it as they slipped up to his ribcage to trace over the bottom ribs sticking out of his cropped white Battle Body top. He trembled in a full-body shudder and pressed his teeth to your forehead. But then you splayed your hands flat against his sides (or as much as you could with the cast covering part of your one palm) and pulled in a calming breath. “Hey… you ok?”

“Ye- Yes I’m… I Can Feel Your Passionate Feelings For Me. Please Don’t Stop. I Need Them. I NEED MORE.”

You chuckled. “Hey. Take a breath. Look at me.”

Papyrus huffed, kissed your forehead, and then pulled back an unsteady half-step to meet your eye. You cradled his jaw in your good palm and touched with your fingertips on the other side, framing his face as well as you could. “I understand the ‘passionate intent’ part. But I need to know what you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to just touch you for a little while tonight? Do you want me to kiss you? This is kindof our first… anything. And I want to treat you right because I love you. Typically this would kindof be the time when two humans, which is the thing I have more experience with, would make out for a while. Because we can’t really feel intent the way you can. It’s all just nerve endings. But we still have… not exactly rules but … customs? Uh… norms for how physical actions like these take place. We don’t have to follow those norms, but I’ll admit that I’d be a bit of a nervous wreck that I was taking advantage of you if I started undressing you this early in the relationship. Unless that’s what you want from me. What do you want tonight and what don’t you want tonight?”

He gulped down a few deep breaths and nodded into your palm. “You’re Right. Any Encounter Will Have Rules. I Haven’t Exactly Read Any Rule Books About This Kind Of Encounter Before. But I Am Not Opposed To Us Making Our Own.”

“And those rules can change too,” you added softly, letting his face slide out of your hands as you stepped backwards to the couch and sat down. “You’re always allowed to decide that you want to try something, and then realize that you don’t like it. And if you don’t like something, we can make new rules or change old rules.”

Papyrus nodded and followed you, but chose to sit on the floor at your feet instead of joining you on the couch. “I Understand. What Rules Do You Suggest?”

“Clothes on.” You held up one finger with a teasing smirk. “That’s a pretty easy one to start with in a new relationship. Not every relationship has to start with that one, but in your case, I am going to suggest it. At least for tonight while we’re figuring out what you like. Another one humans have that some people think is silly but CAN be a good thing to establish early for ANY kind of relationship is a Safe Word. Or a few safe words. Things you don’t normally say in conversation but can be used to communicate that you’re being serious and everything needs to stop. For example, if I’m feeling shy about something I might say “no” or “don’t” but I don’t mean that you need to get up and leave. But if something happens and I want everything to stop, then having a safe word can be really useful. It might seem silly to a monster that could feel that change in intent, but since humans can’t feel that, it’s good to be prepared. If I’m doing something you want me to stop, I can’t just feel that from you. Some people use like… traffic lights. Red Light, Yellow Light, Green Light. Some people use fruits or silly words like Pumpernickel.”

“OH! I SEE! BECAUSE HUMANS CAN’T… YES, THAT MAKES SENSE. WELL! WHAT ABOUT BLUE? LIKE A BLUE STOP SIGN?”

A soft chuckle passed through your lips and you grinned. “Ok. Blue means everything stops. We can use that. I’ve had enough practice with your blue special attacks that I’ll be able to remember that one. Clothes on, Blue means everything stops. Past that just… talk to me. Ok? Tell me if what I’m doing is something you like or don’t like. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, as long as I know that you don’t like it. I promise.”

“WHAT ABOUT YOU?” He reached over and placed his hand on your knee, his eyes flicking up to meet yours and then dropping down to his hand with an offended squint. “YOU CANNOT FEEL MY PASSIONATE FEELINGS FOR YOU. HOW WILL YOU KNOW WHAT I AM INTENDING FOR YOU TO FEEL?”

You snickered, leaning back against the couch with a smirk. “Human biology lesson can wait for another day. It’s like… so late at night. How about we take care of you tonight and another night I’ll teach you how to make a human squirm. Sound fair?”

“NOT ESPECIALLY BECAUSE I WILL GO TO SLEEP AFTER WE ARE DONE CANOODLING KNOWING THAT I WAS UNABLE TO MAKE YOU FEEL THE PASSIONATE FEELINGS THAT YOU ARE SO EASILY ABLE TO CONVEY WITH YOUR INTENT. BUT I SHALL NOT BE BESTED BY BIOLOGY! I WILL USE MY FRUSTRATION TO MY ADVANTAGE AND CHANNEL MY WEAKNESS INTO EVEN MORE PASSIONATE INTENT AND A WILLINGNESS TO LEARN ALL ABOUT YOUR MEAT AND SKIN AND NERVOUS SYSTEM AND BONES!”

Papyrus nodded triumphantly and you cackled, reaching out to him. “Alright. C’mere, bone boy. You want a quick Human Fact? Human mouths are extremely sensitive. Humans like to kiss because all those nerves in our lips and tongues do a very good job of communicating intent.” He perked up and shifted to his knees, placing himself between yours as you sat up more fully. “Just like the fact that we have to use words to communicate intent, gestures also communicate intent. It’s a little bit like a dance. The right steps, done at the right time, send one message. Different steps done at a different time send a different message. Figuring out what steps to do when is part of the learning process. But if you want to communicate passionate intent without just grabbing someone’s dick, kissing is probably the best way to do that.”

“Will You Teach Me The Steps To This Dance?” He touched his forehead to yours and you leaned into him. “I May Not Have Lips, But I Might Have Something That Will Work In Their Place.”

You nuzzled his face and grabbed his hand, pressing a kiss to the palm of his bright red glove. “I can. Maybe a demonstration will help. Would you mind if I removed your glove?”

He swallowed and pulled his hand back, fiddling with it nervously. “I don’t mind, but my hands…” He shrank into himself a little and chanced a momentary meeting of your eyes before turning his attention to his gloves again. “They Are… Perfectly Normal In Every Way But Maybe Please Don’t Be Too Shocked At How Normal They Are If The Type Of Normal Is Different From Your Type Of Normal?”

You held out your hands to him with a soft smile. “I’m sure they’re lovely. Honestly the most surprising thing about your hands is that they feel so thick and solid inside your gloves. They don’t feel like bones in there. They feel like… well… hands. Like mine.”

He nodded and hesitantly placed one in yours, palm up. You used your one good hand to knead the palm of it, feeling what you would presume to be flesh under the fabric. It wasn’t even leather either. Just the same kind of fabric the rest of his battle body was made of. You gripped the tip of the fabric at his middle finger and looked up at him, waiting for permission. He nodded after a moment and you pulled, revealing the thin and delicate bones that had been hiding underneath. You blinked twice, noticing that the center of his palms seemed to have a perfect circle missing from them, but honestly at this point you’d been half expecting them to be lizard hands with the way monsters seemed to be built. You’d seen Sans drink with a straw and you’d held a monster in your hands that was literally an entire nose. The only thing remarkable about them (and maybe this was just a skeleton-monster quirk) was that the holes in the palms perfectly matched Sans’.

You looked up at him with an exasperated smile. “Papyrus, have you ever thought about playing the piano? You have, like, the world’s best piano fingers. Any pianist in a 100 mile radius would commit crimes to have fingers like yours. They look perfect.”

His cheeks glowed a pretty orange but the tiny pinpricks of moisture in the corners of his crinkled eye sockets told you that he was more than a little relieved that you had said as much. He placed his other hand in your lap and you pulled that glove off too. Picking the first up, you kissed each of his knuckles before turning his hand over and kissing around the edges of his palm. Then, pulling his hand closer, you kissed his wrist at the edge of the spandex sleeve normally hidden by his glove. This one lingered, delicately, and then you traced a tiny heart with your tongue, your mind wondering what it would be like to lick your way all the way up his arm. He whimpered, leaning closer as you kissed back up towards the tip of his index finger and then pulled it into your mouth so you could catch it between your teeth.

“O-oh.”

You waggled your eyebrows at him, which pulled a soft snort and a smile out of his slack-jawed stare. You kissed the tip of his finger again before leaning in and pressing a searing kiss to his teeth, your good hand skating over the apex of his hip bone and following the curve backwards towards his spine. Papyrus shivered, breath fanning over your face, and you chased that tremor with your fingertips up his spine and into the cavity of his ribcage. He gasped and surged forward, curling around you and caging you in with his arms all in one motion, and you stopped to let him pant into your shoulder.

“Too much?”

He didn’t answer immediately, so you pulled your hands back and placed them gently on his arms. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head adamantly and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. You hugged him back and gently scratched your nails over the back of his head. After he’d caught his breath some of the tension drained out of his posture and he kissed your neck. “I Didn’t Say Blue.”

“You didn’t have to. Like I said, humans read each other’s feelings by paying attention to their gestures and body language. Yours said ‘overstimulated,’ and I don’t want that for you. I want this to be something nice that you’ll enjoy. Not something you have to endure. Even something nice, when it’s too much all at once, can be bad. Some people like it, and that’s ok. But that’s the kind of thing you should learn about yourself slowly.”

Papyrus nodded and released his hold on you, returning to caging you in with the couch taking the bulk of his bodyweight. All six pounds of it. “Thank You. For Being Careful With Me. Taking Care Of Me. I Think… I Like It. It’s Not Often That I’m Overpowered. You Make Me Feel Weak, But I Know I’m Safe. Can You Do That Again?”

You kissed his cheek and carded your fingers over his ribs. “A little, but I meant what I said. I don’t want to overstimulate you tonight. I can touch your spine again, but how about we try it with gentle and curious intent this time? I think too much intent plus it being a sensitive spot for you might have been too much last time.”

Papyrus huffed a laugh and shook his head, leaning back to catch your eye with fond exasperation. “Is The Whole Night Going To Be Like This?”

You grinned and winked. “Maybe. Is that a dealbreaker? Do you want to stop?”

He growled playfully, making you squeal and giggle, and scooped you up just enough to crawl overtop of you and shift your position so you were laying on the couch beneath him. “Please, Not Until I Say Blue.”

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EYYYYY thanks for reading my For Funzies and Not Yet Canon To The Storyline Fic! If you could take a Post-Fade-To-Black Survey, That Would Be Great!

Thanks!

#deleted scene #the nebular theory fic #undertale fic #chapter 17 deleted scene #papyrus ut

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quailfence · 4 years

Text

A while back I had a realization about Susan, which goes as follows:

The Timeless Children establishes that Tecteun is the Doctor’s (adoptive) mother

Lungbarrow establishes that Susan is the granddaughter of the Other

The script for The Timeless Children strongly implies that Tecteun is the Other.

Thus:

Tecteun=Doctor’s mother

Susan=Granddaughter of the Other

Tecteun=the Other

If Tecteun is both the Other and the Doctor’s mother, then the Other is the Doctor’s mother. Similarly, as the Other is both Tecteun and Susan’s grandmother, then Tecteun is Susan’s grandmother

Now, if the Other/Tecteun’s child is the Doctor, and the Other/Tecteun’s grandchild is Susan, then it is entirely possible that (one of) Susan’s parent(s) is the Doctor. (Or that the Doctor is their aunt/uncle, but I prefer the parent version)

#doctor who #the timeless children #susan foreman #meta #theory #wild speculation #the Doctor (doctor who)#lungbarrow #dw meta #dw series 12 spoilers #also I swear I’d finished and posted this a few days ago #but I guess not #quail original #ok to reblog

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trashinaglass-archive · 3 years

Text

Just for Us

Request: Heyyy I saw you were looking for requests.. mine is for Chris Evans, how about they both star in the MCU and after all those years reader and Chris get into a relationship and keep it secret for awhile but then decide it’s time the others should know before the media find out first :) Maybe Seb and Mackie could admit they had a bet on it as one of the reactions?

A/n: I just checked my drafts and found this. Thought I posted it months ago, but here it sat. So sorry about that. Just another reason that I’m the worst 🥰 Also, didn’t do much editing so sorry if it sucks

I have this weird guilt of replacing anyone from the MCU, even fictionally lol, so random original character thrown in.

Conventions were the best and the worst. It was incredible getting to meet and interact with so many fans, but it was so many fans. It was difficult sometimes, going on for so long with so few breaks. You picked up your pen as someone asked Tom a question about his upcoming Spider-Man movie, and began doodling, drawing Tom as a spider getting chased by Anthony and Sebastian, who continually pick on him. It only made sense.

Chris looked over at the paper in front of you, chuckling softly at it, but not getting the opportunity to say anything about it. “My question is for y/n and Chris! Your two characters seem to be getting pretty close,” the fan pointed out as she looked to you and Chris, who was sat next to you for the panel. “Is there any chance we’ll see some Maya x Steve action sometime soon?” The crowd roared with oooh’s as she finished the question.

Chris threw his hands out in a shrug, turning to look at you with his arm slung across the back of your chair. You could only shrug, not knowing what else you could say either. “One of the most frustrating parts of this job is that so much is a secret, even to us. I honestly have no idea what’s in store for Maya and Steve.”

“But it really wouldn’t hurt my feelings, if we’re throwing it out there,” Chris joked.

“Mmm,” you hummed, pretending to think. “I don’t know, I think I’d pick Bucky if I got to chose.”

The audience screamed at your answer as Chris threw his hands up in confusion, as if asking what’s wrong with me. You leaned over to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug, your head leaning against his as you laugh. “I’m just joking.”

“Ay, you can’t have Buck nasty anyways. He’s mine,” Anthony butted in, nodding his head confidently.

Sebastian shook his head, “Bucky already has an intimate relationship with his trauma.” His eye brow raised as one should shrugged up to his ear. The rest of the panel moved on, asking question after question until time had finally run up and you all broke for lunch.

“I love doing these conventions and all, but I swear the day moves by so slow,” you whine as you drop onto the couch Chris and Sebastian were sitting at, your head leaning against Chris’s shoulder.

Anthony let out a laugh as he sat in an adjacent chair, “I’d argue it moves too damn fast. You know, like what the hell just happened out there? I don’t fucking know.”

“Words,” you said simply. “Too many of them.” The boys laughed and agreed before beginning to talk about something that happened in a separate panel with just Mackie and Sebastian. You took it upon yourself to get comfortable, curling up next to Chris. It had been an early morning and you were too exhausted to care what any on lookers thought.

You felt Chris’s head turn as he looked down at you. “You okay?” He asked in a whisper, a hand resting on your knee. You only nodded in reply.

“You comfy over there, y/n?” Mackie asked, his voice raised in a slightly teasing tone.

You laughed quietly and nodded again. “I could use a blanket though,” you requested, knowing there was one on the other side of Sebastian.

Anthony glanced at it then back at you, and suddenly that mischievous gleam in his eyes, that you had gotten to know well in your years of knowing him, shined bright. “If only there was someone that cared about you and how cold you are,” he continued to tease.

Chris let out a breathe through his nose, knowing where his friend was headed but didn’t say anything. You could feel his body leaning as he stretched his arm out, grabbing the blanket off the furniture and draping it over you best he could.

“Oh, would you look at that. How sweet. What a nice man,” Anthony continued, looking back at you. “Isn’t Chris such a nice man.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back the giggle in your throat. “The nicest man.”

“But there are plenty of other nice guys, I’m sure,” Sebastian added, subtly looking back and forth between you and Mackie. “Do you talk to some other nice guys?”

You looked up at Chris, finally understanding what they were hinting at, and gave him a just tell them look. “You sure? It seems to be killing them not to know,” he joked.

“So it’s true!” Mackie exclaimed excitedly, leaning forward in his chair. Both of them looked as if they were watching an intense football game and one team was close to winning it all. You couldn’t believe how obsessed they seemed to be.

Chris laughed. “We’ve been dating for about a year and a half now,” he said nonchalantly.

“I knew it,” Anthony yelled, as he stood up, pointed at Sebastian who sat with his hands thrown up in the air. “You owe me twenty, dog.” Chris threw his head back in laughter as you sat up, your jaw slack in shock.

“You had a bet!?”

Sebastian put his hands up in surrender. “He was convinced you guys were dating. I said you were just close friends, and it just happened, I don’t know.”

“It just happened,” you repeated sarcastically.

“Why did y’all hide it anyways?” Mackie asked as he sat back down, looking between you and Chris.

“Easier,” Chris shrugged. “Trying to get through all that new dating stage and figuring all that out. It’s just easier to do on your own than to have everyone talking.”

You nod in agreement, “and if it ended up not working out, there wasn’t any reason for anyone to make it weird.”

Sebastian scoffed dramatically. “As if we would make anything awkward.” You hold back your laugh but smile, looking between the three men surrounding you.

“You just interrogated me. You definitely would have made it weird in some way,” you laughed.

“It’s called being fun,” Anthony defended as he walked away, a teasing smirk still lingering on his face. “But I won’t tell anyone. Promise!”

The three of you watched as he walked away before turning back. “Who do you think he’s going to tell?” You ask, knowing him better than that.

“Well, Tom did say something about having a crush on you in an interview a while ago, so he’s probably going to tease the kid about it,” Sebastian theorized. “And if he does, I’m not missing it. See you guys in a bit.” He raised his hand in a small wave as he stood up and followed where Mackie left, leaving the two of you alone.

You lean back into the couch with your back leaning against Chris, the back of your head resting against his shoulder. “Wonder if they’ll ever leave that kid alone,” you think out loud.

“Probably never, if I know them well enough.” Chris looked down at you with a smile as you turned your head to look back at him. Your eyes closed as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead, his head leaning against that spot as you sit there in silence. It was a rare occasion on promo days, so you soaked in for as long as you could before you were called for the next panel.

#Chris evans #chris evans blurb #chris evans x reader #chris evans oneshot #chris evans imagine

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jungkxook · 4 years

Text

—make it right. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut

⟶ words: 11,528

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

You swear you’re over Jungkook.

In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad.

As it turns out, it hardly works.

Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.

You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.

And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.

“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.

You hear his voice first.

It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.

At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.

Now, you hate it.

It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.

“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.

“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”

“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah━”

As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.

“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”

“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.

“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.

“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”

Suddenly, you feel sick.

It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.

You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.

You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.

The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?

“So, what are you trying to say?”

You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.

It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.

You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.

“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.

“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”

He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”

You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”

“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”

“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”

This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?”

He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.

“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”

His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”

“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”

His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.

“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”

“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”

“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”

“That’s not true,” You admonished.

“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”

Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.

“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…

The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.

Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.

You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.

The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.

“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”

“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”

He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.

“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”

“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”

And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━

“Y/N?”

There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.

This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.

As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.

“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.

Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”

You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”

His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”

You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.

“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”

“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”

“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”

His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.

“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”

“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.

“Promise?”

You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”

His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”

“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.

“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”

You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?

So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.

The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.

But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.

Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.

You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.

You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.

“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”

The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”

Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.

Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”

“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”

Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”

But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?

Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.

But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.

As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”

He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.

“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”

You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”

It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”

You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”

A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”

When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.

“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”

“Jungkook…”

“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”

Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”

As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”

But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”

“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”

His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”

Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.

“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”

But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.

“Y/N…”

“Good luck out there.”

Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.

He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.

After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.

“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”

Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.

“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”

Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.

“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”

“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”

Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.

“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.

Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.

Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.

When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.

“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”

You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.

“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”

Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”

“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”

“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”

“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”

“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”

Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”

Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.

“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”

He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.

“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”

There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.

Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”

His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.

Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.

“It’s been so long,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.

“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”

Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.

“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”

“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. “Care to explain?”

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”

You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.

As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”

“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.

He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”

“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”

“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”

He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.

Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”

Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”

He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.

“Ooh, Jungkook━”

The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.

His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”

You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.

“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”

“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.

“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”

“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay━”

He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts.

He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.

“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”

Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.

At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”

You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.

It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.

He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.

Then, the room falls silent.

Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.

It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."

“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly.

“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”

“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”

You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you.

“Do you really mean all that?”

“With my whole heart.”

And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.

You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.

While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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goddess-in-heaven-and-hell · 2 years

Text

Dawn Café (Gwynriel One Shot)

Hi, I’m essentially new on here and thought I would post some of my writing. This is also already posted in a Gwynriel collection on AO3. I just thought the acotar community here is a bit bigger :)

This one shot was inspired by a promt - about Gwyn being a barista and wooing Azriel by drawing latte art that someone suggested I write a little story about on AO3. So, a modern AU with our favourites.

Warnings: this is definitely mature/NSFW/18+ with explicit smut and swearing

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“What?? What do you mean Aelin is too good for him? I think they are perfect for each other!”, Gwyn nearly chocked on her take-away, she was so enraged. Her favorite ship was being dragged through the mud, and she wasn’t having any of it.

“Love, it’s obvious. Did you hear him talk to this Bryce girl? He was way too patronizing. If I would have done that to you when we started dating, you’d have had my balls.”, Azriel explained matter of fact, gesturing to the TV with his fork in hand.

He was really hot when he got into his debate mode, his sharp mind was the first (okay, maybe second) thing that Gwyn found so irresistible about him. Even when that sharp mind was currently debating the newest episode of “Love Island” with her.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t been guilty of that before. Cut this guy some slack, he had such a hard breakup with the brunette. I’d argue he is just misunderstood and needs a strong hand to guide him.”, Gwyn would not leave her ship. She was the proud captain.

“What he needs is a strong kick in the ass. She should go with the blond guy, what’s his name?”, Azriel rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to remember, before blurting out, “Rowan!”.

Gwyn couldn’t help the giggle making its way up to her mouth. She would have never guessed that her broody, serious boyfriend, who profusely tried to resist watching Gwyn’s reality TV shows with her a few months ago, would end up the biggest fan. He seriously beat her to the TV every night the show was on, without fail.

“Fine, whatever.”, she decided to be nice tonight and give in to his ridiculous opinion. She would prove him right anyway next week. Finishing up her udon noodles, she threw the take away container back into its bag. That was her favorite thing about ordering in – the lack of dishes. Azriel hasn’t finished yet, but she wasn’t one bit surprised about that. He had ordered three different main courses and was currently munching himself through the second. That might have been the only downside to living with him: the increased food bills. But the past months proved he was very capable of making up for that in more than one way.

Gwyn leisurely stretched her arms and slouched back on the couch, ever so thankful for her baggy sweat pants. She continued to watch the show for a little while, eyes occasionally drifting to her boyfriend to find him working his way through the food. By the looks of it, he would actually finish, no left overs to be eaten the next day. That made Gwyn reach out her hand to rest on his knee and draw little circles there with her thumb.

Given his eating habit tonight, he must have had the worst day at work. Sometimes, his boss’s demands get so frequent and stressful that he literally finds no time to eat. His perfectionism and work ethic don’t really help with that either.

The jingle of a commercial break interrupted her thoughts. Azriel, sinking the very last spoonful of food into his mouth, let out a satisfying groan. He chewed, eyes closed as if to savor the taste one last time, with his hands meeting behind his head, his impressive biceps flexing in the process.

It was so unfair. How he looked like straight from a runway in his baggy grey sweats and black shirt, while Gwyn looked like a slob. Even though he would probably disagree with that, scold her for saying bad things about herself and then show her exactly how beautiful she looked to him. That kind of made her consider saying it out loud. But maybe not yet, as her food baby needed to settle before she considered anything close to being thrown around in a bed.

Azriel stood, the delivery bag in hand, to make his way to the spacious kitchen attached to the living room. The flat Gwyn and Az shared was previously Az’s alone. He works a demanding, but well-paying job which brought him a fantastic apartment with only little spare time to enjoy it. Which is why Gwyn cherished these little moments and every date night she got to spend with him.

Azriel returned to the couch, two glasses of wine in his hands, and carefully sat down next to her. A little closer than before, Gwyn noted with delight. He handed her the wine and they clicked glasses, smiling fondly at each other. Just as Gwyn leaned into give her attentive boyfriend a well-earned kiss, a sudden weight being dropped into her lap made her squeal. Azriel let out a huffed laugh, “Stop squealing, you’ll scare her. She just wants to say hi.”

Azriel’s black cat, fittingly (both in appearance and behavior) named Shadow, purred as she nudged her little furry head against Gwyn’s chest. The demand was clear. Gwyn chuckled, set down her glass and began fondling the cat’s head.

Azriel threw her a pointed look. “I would have jumped onto your lap an hour ago if that’s what’s getting your attention.”

She replied, “Oh, but that would only work if you were a little hairier and a little less heavy.”

Azriel gasped, offended. “Are you calling me fat?”, his hands found the hem of his shirt to lift it, revealing disgustingly perfect muscles underneath. He looked at them in fake sadness. As if he didn’t know what he was doing to her and her breathing.

“I didn’t eat three main courses of take away in the time it took me to eat only one.”, she countered. Shadow, seemingly annoyed with the loud noises her owners made, tippled back to the bedroom.

Azriel winced, “Yeah, true. I had to skip lunch today, so I had to get in some more calories with this.” Gwyn felt a little pull at her heart at his words. He was overworking himself, just like she thought he would.

“That much going on, huh?”, she moved closer to him, throwing her legs across his lap and massaging his scalp for a little relaxation. Azriel extended his arm to pull her closer to his side, then he closed his eyes and melted into Gwyn’s capable fingers.

Apparently, he didn’t want to talk about it. But that was fine, she understood that now. Azriel was the quiet sort, the one to think thoroughly about something before sharing it with his loved ones, usually to not burden or stress them. She also knew that in times when he wouldn’t allow for any mental support, she could settle for some physical affection.

They both sat engulfed in each other’s company for a while, Gwyn’s hands and fingernails drawing lazy circles in Azriel’s hair, while they refocused on their show and occasionally nipped at their wine. A newcomer to the Island was introduced now, another one of those picture-perfect males that, before she met Az, she was sure didn’t exist in the wild. He had a weird name, Hunt, but the girls were all over him immediately.

“All the girls and even half the guys look like they’re about to drool on the poor guy.”, Azriel chuckled, “Reminds me of you, when we started dating.”

Gwyn sat up with a start, pulling away her legs and hands in the process. Azriel let out a little whine at that and tried to catch her limbs in midair to pull her back.

“I. Never. Drooled. Especially not over you.”, she argued, bringing some space between them for emphasize.

“Oh, nevermind I guess I worded it wrong. What would you call nearly stumbling over your own feet, blushing like mad and drawing little cinnamon drawings in my coffee every time you saw me at the café? Simping, maybe?”

Gwyn let out a loud laugh, just because everything he just said was nothing but the truth. “Damn, it was that obvious, yeah?”

“Quite, but only after two weeks or so.”, he allowed her at least some of her dignity.

Gwyn remembered the time well. She had never felt so alive, buzzing with excitement every morning she got to work. It was at a time too, when she was new in town and slightly intimidated and homesick. Working as a waitress at the Dawn café was her way of earning some extra money while she started her internship in the archives of the city. It had been the best decision of her life, despite the early morning shifts and the constant temptation of the little cakes and sweets they served. She had not only met Azriel there, but also her coworker and now best friend Emerie. She smiled to herself thinking of the time. She could almost smell the bitter aroma of coffee.

“Gwyn? Where is the new batch of the cinnamon rolls?”, Emerie called from behind the counter.

“Oh, I damn it. I left them in the back. Sorry Em!”, Gwyn replied, making an apologetic face towards her very friendly, but sometimes very strict coworker. She had been slow all morning and apparently that didn’t change when she got to work at 5:50 am.

She was currently wiping down the tables near the ginormous windows to prepare for the café to open. It was only her second week of employment, but she loved it here. The place had such an inviting atmosphere, the costumers were mostly friendly and the coworkers too, her favorite of them now coming out from behind the counter to turn their sign form ‘closed’ to ‘open’.

“Would you stay in front for the first hour or so while I manage our stock in the back?”, Em asked, already turning back to the door. The first hour is always manageable, as only very few people braved the streets at 6am. She nodded her understanding and took her place behind the counter, preparing the coffee.

The first few minutes, nothing noteworthy happened. A couple came in to buy two croissants, then a maintenance worker asked for his coffee to go. Gwyn just found her work flow, now slowly starting to look and think more alive. Then she saw him.

It was a bit like a shadow entered the bright and lively Dawn. An impertinent wall of black against the pastel colors of the café. And it, no he, moved towards the counter. To her.

“Good morning. Can I get a large cup of coffee to drink here?”, his voice was flat. Gwyn was awake suddenly. How- just how??

“Morning, of course”, thankfully she managed to make her voice sound semi-normal, “would you like anything else with your coffee? Maybe something to eat?”

“Nah, that’ll be it.”, he handed her five pounds with a slight smile and turned towards a seat at the window with a “Keep the change.”

Gwyn moved through the steps to brew the coffee on auto pilot, before making her way to the impossibly hot costumer. With a thanks, he took the coffee and proceeded to swipe on his phone.

Gwyn hid behind the counter. Now she finally had time to process this guy.

He sat half faced towards her, and she tried to check him out in the least intrusive and annoying way possible. Jet black hair, short in the neck, longer on top of the head, so that some bits slightly curled. He had broad shoulders and some kind of tattoo sticking out beneath the seam of a black uniform. She didn’t recognize it, maybe something to do with law enforcement? But the most striking of it all was his face. It was perfection, like some of the Greek god statues she had seen copies of in the archives had come to life to grace the people on earth. Sharp in every feature, just his eyes softened his look a bit. They had the color of honey.

She needed to get a grip. And fast, too.

More costumers streamed in a couple of minutes after the arrival of the god. That gave her something to do for a while. The café now filled with more voices and laughter. But she still couldn’t help to glance at him every now and then, just to verify that she didn’t dream him up.

When Emerie joined her to serve at 8am, and the god was already gone, she found a calm minute to describe him to her.

Emerie laughed at her face. “Not you too, please. Everyone is obsessed with that guy. You definitely didn’t make him up.”

“So he comes here more often?”, she inquired. Gwyn hadn’t seen him in her first week at all.

“Yeah, he is a regular. Sometimes he ditched for one-two weeks, but he always comes back. Maybe he is out of town sometimes.”, she glanced at Gwyn and leaned in to whisper, “Do you plan on making a move? No-one dared until now.”

Gwyn didn’t know. She really didn’t. She used to be good with people, with guys - something happened last year that made her keep her distance. But maybe it was time to close that distance again.

Azriel’s phone rang, interrupting some well-needed one on one time. Gwyn let out a small whine as Azriel detangled himself from her to reach for the coffee table. Immediately, the sweet, attentive and fun boyfriend disappeared to make way for the stone-faced agent.

“Night speaking.”, he answered the phone, threw a little apologetic look at Gwyn and left for the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Gwyn sat up, missing the comfortable weight of her boyfriend’s body on her, and combed through her hair with her fingers. She pleaded to the gods or whomever will listen for Azriel to not have to go into work right now. His stupid boss with his stupid emergencies interrupted more than one date night during the time of their relationship. Azriel was, apparently, too vital for the operation to work too long without him. She smiled a little, the thought making her very proud of him.

But he also desperately needed some time to relax. Preferably with her. Even more preferably in her.

Azriel’s muffled voice receded behind the bedroom wall. He opened the door, and plopped down on the sofa with a sigh. Gwyn prepared herself for everything from ‘bad’ to ‘worst’, bad being he had to go into work tonight for a few hours, ‘worst’ being he had to pack. And packing usually brought a two week separation with it.

“So, I will need to do some work on the computer now. They want my approval for a mission plan.”, he threw her a pained glance, “I’m so sorry, love. I will make it up to you later, okay? Will you stay up?”

Gwyn kissed him softly. It really wasn’t his fault that he was so damn good at his job, and she didn’t want him to feel to down because of it. “Sure, that sounds fine. At least I get to keep you in close proximity.”

“Thanks for understanding.”, he took her hand to press a kiss on the back of her hand and then made his way to the small office.

Gwyn had some alone time at her hands now. And she knew exactly how she wanted to spend it. She sneaked to the kitchen, found what she was looking for with a triumphant grin, and plopped back on the couch. She turned on her favorite old-school movie and then worked her way through the sweet treat she brought herself from the kitchen. A chocolate croissant.

She always had a sweet tooth. And the time she spent working in the café taught her more than one thing about baking them. The croissant was the costumer’s favorite too, and she understood why with all her heart and soul. Well, one costumer hadn’t been too keen on it. But then again, he hadn’t been too keen on any of the baked goods there.

It had infuriated her at the time. Azriel’s stoic persistence on the one cup of coffee, with nothing sweet to counter the bitterness of it. She had tried multiple times to convince him on a cake, without any luck. If he could see her now, he would sure as hell make a comment.

“Morning! The usual?”, Gwyn greeted the god from her place behind the counter as he stepped into the empty café.

“Good morning. The usual please.”, he confirmed with one of those stupidly pretty half smirks he liked to present her with. Today marked the 7th time that he drank his coffee with Gwyn being the barista. Not that she counted.

The god proceeded to place the usual five pound note on the table. The coffee actually just cost half of that, but he insisted on giving her the tip every time. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile at him when she took the money and thanked him. She noted, very pleased with herself, that he seemed to linger near Gwyn longer each day before taking his place by the window.

She busied herself making the coffee.

Gwyn had decided yesterday evening. That she wanted to make her move. She arranged her hair more carefully this morning, throwing the locks of auburn hair into a bun, with a few strands to frame her face. She put on her favorite good-luck necklace. Her makeup stayed minimal, but she put on some highlighter to let her face glow. All that was a good start, but she had no idea how to actually interact with him. Should she just ask him out on a date? Should she try to flirt with him before?

As she eyed the coffee and the little layer of foam that coated the surface, a brilliant idea struck her. She would go for the slow, steady approach. Her way of flirting.

She took the cinnamon they usually used to sprinkle the hot chocolate with and went to work.

After a minute she proudly admired her work. The cinnamon was arranged on the foam in the shape of a crescent with a little star in the corner. Carefully, she brought her creation to the god. She placed it. But was too chicken to stay there and wait for his reaction, so she fled back behind the counter. Baby steps, she reminded herself.

That day, and a little shiver went down Gwyn’s spine remembering it even after months had passed, he went out of his way to say his goodbyes to her (and Emerie). He had made his way back to the counter to do so, even though more costumers were flowing in the café.

Gwyn was ecstatic. Was it the equivalent of a bold pick-up line? No, but it was something delicate, something sweet to take the bitter edge from his coffee. And little did she know, it took the edge of the bitterness of his life too.

The days passed in a whirl of activity. Gwyn worked hard at the café, the archives and during her therapy lessons. She figured that, with a possibility of a date on the horizon, she should put in some extra effort in that area of her life. And then hopefully not get triggered if he decides to put a hand on her back or something, should they actually go on a date.

Everything went well. Everything was just cherries on top for her. Each day that the god took his coffee at the Dawn, she created a little picture for him with the cinnamon. She built her skill slowly, going from the basic ‘sun, moon and star’ to more elaborate motives. One morning, she even managed to draw a little cat. And in the evenings, that where before occupied by heavy silence and sleepless nights, she found herself dreaming of the next morning.

But he never said anything about the cinnamon art. He was polite, charming, but never took a metaphorical step towards her. Maybe he thought that’s how she treats every costumer? That the art was a new thing the café trained its baristas in?

On Wednesday morning, 6.25am, when the god entered the café to pay for and drink his coffee, she decided to be bold. To be unmistakably forward.

As the god took his seat, she took the cinnamon and wrote a little message for him, instead of her usually art. She thought the message through a long time, it would have to be brief, cut straight to the point she wanted to get across. But what did she want to get across? That she wanted a date? But that didn’t fit the cup.

‘ur cute’, was what ended up on the foam. It allowed him some room of interpretation and wasn’t pushy, but still conveyed her interest. With her heart almost beating out of her chest and into the coffee, she placed the cup in front of him. Damn, was it a good idea? He looked up from his phone to say his thanks, but Gwyn was already turned around and made her way to the back of the café.

“Emerie, Emerie, Emerie”, she squealed, trying desperately to stay quiet as she found her coworker backing a new tray of almond cookies.

“What is it?”, Emerie turned around in shock, eyes wide, “did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“No, not exactly. My pride might take a hit in a few minutes and I’m not sure if I am ready for that.”, she then told Emerie what she did, pacing up and down in front of the oven. “Can you please take over outside, I’ll finish the baking. But please only call for me when he left the café.”

Emerie agreed, but smiled at the antics of her friend. She was so bold, so unapologetically herself, but that guy made her freak.

Gwyn gave her a brief hug of thanks, both girls going back to work after the intrusion. After half an hour, Emerie called her back to the front.

“He’s gone. Are you okay with cleaning his table, or should I?”, Em gestured to the table by the window. Gwyn wasn’t afraid of it, as long as its occupant was not in the picture.

She made her way to the table; lifted the cup to inspect the napkin underneath and see if it was still usable, but found it used. But not in the usual way. Written on the napkin with a small, accurate handwriting was a phone number. Gwyn froze and stared, and stared, and stared, until she fully understood the message of the number. She brought a hand to her mouth to cover her grin, also mentally keeping herself from jumping up and down in excitement in a half-full café. He had left his number, for her.

Or was it for someone else? The grin left Gwyn as fast as it came a second ago. It should be addressed at her, she was usually serving him. But maybe he meant it for Emerie? Or Jada, the other barista that sometimes worked the morning shift with them?

There was only one way to find out. Gwyn pocketed the napkin, and during the day, she always found herself toying with it in her downtime. She would call him soon.

****

“When I’m finished in the bathroom, I want you on your knees in front of the bed, not a single piece of clothing in slight, understood?”, Azriel murmured close to Gwyn’s ear, before letting her free of his embrace and making his way to the bathroom door. Gwyn preened with excitement. Her boyfriend had finished work 10 minutes ago, went straight to her to pull her into a passionate kiss, and somehow, they ended up here. With his command being her pleasure.

Gwyn was buzzing with anticipation, she took her clothing off one by one on the way to the bedroom, before kneeling on the carpet floor. She immensely enjoyed the games they played, be it with Azriel in the dominant role or herself. Gwyn never thought that she would be able to have sex the way that Azriel proposed to her a few months after they started sleeping together, but with the right person and the level of trust that they had, it was exhilarating.

Azriel entered the room, now only his joggers, his artful tattoos on display. He stayed silent for a while, letting his love sit through her increasing nerves. Then he finally spoke.

“I really didn’t want to have to punish you tonight, you know?”

Shit, what did she do wrong? Gwyn’s thoughts raced, but nothing she did the past two days would be deserving of a punishment. She didn’t dare speak however, she didn’t have permission yet anyways. With her knees sinking in the carpet and her hands met together behind her back, she stayed perfectly still in the hopes that that appeased him somehow. It didn’t.

“But little brats who leave a trail of clothes on the floor don’t deserve anything else, I’m afraid.”, Azriel had paced behind her back now, out of sight.

Gwyn mentally both scolded and congratulated herself for leaving the clothes on the floor. Scolding, because Azriel was one to see through with his threats, and congratulating, because Azriel saw through with his threats.

He gathered Gwyn’s hair in his big hands from his position, tying it in a ponytail. His fingers brushed her neck, making her shiver. Azriel moved again, this time to kneel in front of her. His fingers now found her chin to lift it. So she could stare into his honey eyes which held a darker cast over them. She dared to hold his gaze.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, love?”, his voice matched his eye color as he called her by her nickname.

“I’m sorry for leaving my clothing on the floor. It won’t happen again, Sir.”, her voice betrayed her. It quivered slightly under his intense gaze. His fingers moved from her chin to lightly caress her throat now, dipping to her collarbones every now and then. Gwyn already felt wetness coating her sex without him even touching her much.

“Mh, what a nice little apology. I’m not sure you meant it though. Stand.”, he ordered, raising up himself to tower over her.

Gwyn scrambled to her feet, muscles straining to keep her hands still firmly behind her back. She had learned that particular lesson two weeks ago.

He came closer to her, hands to her waist and mouth by her ear, “You remember the safe word?”, he broke character just enough to remind her of her way out, should she not want this.

Oh, but she did.

“Red, Sir.”, she murmured. Azriel nodded.

“Lay on the bed, stomach facing the sheets. You may use your hands.”, Gwyn obeyed. He still wanted to play a little nice today if he allowed her to use her hands for this. She was so relieved, she didn’t notice Azriel going over to the wardrobe to pull out a blindfold. Nice indeed.

Gwyn felt the bed dip slightly as he lowered himself on it. His hand wandered featherlight from her ankles, over her thighs, grazed her ass to find the middle of her back and continue to her neck. He found the ponytail and pulled to lift her face from the sheet with enough force to make it hurt slightly, but never too much. The command was clear though: hold your head up.

Azriel tied the blindfold over her eyes, making her effectively defenseless against him. The anticipation nearly killed her. In this compromising position, it will take Az only a couple of well-placed caresses for her to scream out his name in pleasure.

She felt his body hovering over her. The she felt his lips. First placing on kiss to her neck, then her shoulder blades, slowly working downwards. If that was supposed to be her punishment, she would gladly take it. But she never got away so easily.

Az had worked himself to her spine, licking over the spot before receding from her body completely. Gwyn’s breathing was heavy already, her breath further restricted through lying on her stomach.

“You’re going to count to five for me, love.”, he commanded, voice low and quiet.

Then she felt a zap of pain going through her as Azriel’s hand connected sharply with her rear. Gwyn whimpered, already mentally readying herself for the next blow, but instead his hands lightly brushed over the spot to soothe it. He knew exactly where to strike to make it good for her, knew his strength enough to not hurt. Never hurt seriously.

She found enough breath to mutter, ”One.”

The next slap echoed through her body, shock waves going up her spine and straight down to her throbbing clit. The burn was reduced again immediately with Azriel stroking over it. “Two.”, her voice was barely audible. But only he needed to hear her.

“You are doing so good for me love.”, he praised her, leaning down to place a little kiss on both of her cheeks before resuming to paint them red with his hands. Gwyn counted down the last three of the slaps, body deliciously aching, with Azriel praising her strength. All that was left of her brain was liquid. When the last of the slaps resided, Azriel’s lips came down to kiss her spine again.

“Good girl.”, he muttered. Gwyn practically glowed from making him proud, her praise kink nearly as strong as Azriel’s. She felt him crawling up her body again, both of his hands caging her in, hovering over her.

And then – nothing.

All she felt was his body over her, his heat radiating into her naked frame. But he didn’t touch her, he didn’t say anything, didn’t undress himself. It was infuriating. She knew he was doing it on purpose, to leave her all riled up and wondering. He wanted to have her begging. And Gwyn was already at the point where she would do exactly that.

“Azriel, please.”, she whispered into the thin air, hoping it would reach him.

“Azriel please -What?”, he shot back immediately, voice hard and unyielding.

Gwyn gulped. “Please touch me.”

Azriel touched her. On her fucking hands. Gwyn groaned in frustration and swore she could actually feel his shit-eating grin over her shoulder.

“One more try, love?”, he coaxed.

“Please touch me between my legs.”, she managed to get out before going still again in anticipation.

His lips came to her ear once more to whisper, “Spread them for me then.” Still on her stomach, she obeyed and spread her legs, whining at the loss of friction that had been her only form of release for the last minutes, but begging for his touch.

Then, Azriel’s broad fingers finally, finally, wandered between her legs, drawing little circles on the inside of her thighs. What he felt there made him chuckle softly, “Already so wet for me that you dripped down your legs? And here I was, thinking the punishment was a real punishment.”

“Always for you, Sir.”, Gwyn breathed, hoping the submissive admission would incline him to play nice. A rumble went through Azriel’s chest at her words, and his fingers grazed her sex. Gwyn couldn’t help moaning. And she didn’t stop for a long time after she started.

Azriel continued to move his fingers up and down her sex, spreading her lips to have a better access to her clit. He honed in on it, alternating between pressing down lightly and circling. He moved through her with ease, thanks to her wetness. Gwyn’s breathing turned ragged, one of her hands wandered across the sheets to find something to hold on to, something to ground her against these feelings that made her spiral sky-high. She found Azriel’s hand that lifted his body off hers, and interlaced her fingers with his. He allowed the contact. Technically, actively seeking out his touch was forbidden, but she couldn’t care less as his finger found her entrance and circled it, occasionally dipping in, but staying way too shallow.

“Sir, please. I want you inside me.”, it took everything in Gwyn to form that whole sentence and remembering her manners.

“As my good girl wishes.”, this time it was Azriel who obeyed her. He never could refuse her for too long. Two of his fingers stretched her, inner walls fluttering and contracting at the sudden contact. He pumped them in and out for a while, sometimes curling inside of her. His fingers sometimes drew out for a moment to pay some more attention to her clit again, before delving back in. Gwyn didn’t hear the wet sound she produced over her moaning and whimpering.

Suddenly, she felt a loss of contact, leaving her body yearning and shaking. Two strong hands gripped her hips and flipped her over, so she lay on her back, legs still spread. She was beginning to panic at her vulnerability. Her sight was taken from her for too long.

“Sir, can I see you please?”, it was worth a try. Azriel must have heard the slight edge in her voice as she felt gentle fingers prying the blindfold away from her eyes and over her head. Gwyn took a moment to adjust her eyes again, even though the room was only dimly lit. Azriel hovered over her, his knees bracketed on either side of her hips. “You okay love?”, he was still clad in his joggers that now bore an impressive bulge, chest heaving just as heavily as hers was. Gwyn nodded her okay, but he wasn’t having any of it. “You know to use your words when I ask that.”, he scolded, but his eyes were soft.

“I’m okay.”, Gwyn breathed and even managed to show him a little smile. Azriel nodded, sufficiently happy. He was quick to connect their lips together in a fiery kiss, tongues darting out to play with each other for a moment. Gwyn wanted nothing more to sink her hands in his hair, letting them roam his shoulders and back, on his chest trailing downwards.

“Go on, touch me.”, Azriel mumbled in between kisses to her mouth and her neck. He had this uncanny ability to know exactly what she wanted when she wanted it. But Gwyn used the freedom he granted her to explore his chest, grazing her fingers over the taunt muscles and extracting a shiver from him. By the looks of it, not only she was ready to explode any second.

“What do you want love?”

Gwyn didn’t even have to think. “I want you inside me now, fast and hard.”

When Azriel raised his eyebrows at her, she added her “Sir” hastily. Apparently, that was enough for him now as he pushed himself up from her to step out of his joggers, the considerable length of his cock springing free. He touched himself, pumping slowly up and down a few times while his eyes trailed over Gwyn’s spread-out body. “My gorgeous little girl.”, he mumbled, probably more to himself than to her, but Gwyn still smiled at the endearment.

He was over and in her within the span of two seconds. Gwyn vision blurred, pressure already building in her lower back and abdominal parts as he slid home, right to the hilt. Azriel brought his forehead down to rest against hers, eyes closed, and pounded into her. Gwyn loved every second of it, craned her head up to kiss him on the lips again, to have all her senses surrounded by him.

“Fuck, Gwyn.”, he mumbled, still sinking his cock deep into her with every thrust. Gwyn wrapped her legs around his waist and tilted her hips slightly, sending both of them groaning at the new deeper angle this allowed. His thrusts became even faster and harder, until Gwyn only managed to murmur his name over and over and over again.

Until the pressure that built couldn’t built any longer and came crashing down on her. With one last “Azriel!”, breathing labored, she came undone under him. Azriel followed a few thrusts after her, spilling his release into her with a loud roar.

After a few seconds he slid out of her carefully and plopped on the bed next to her, chest still heaving. That pretty half smirk grazed his lips as he looked over to her. “Everything okay?”, Gwyn nodded, herself also smiling.

Azriel got up, walked around the bed to Gwyn’s side, and before she could comprehend what his intention was, he had lifted her into his arms. He carried her to the bathroom and sat her on the toilet to pee (which Gwyn learned the hard way to always do after sexual activities) while cleaning himself up and throwing on a pair of boxer briefs.

“Do you want to finish watching your movie, or would you rather go to sleep now?”, he asked while Gwyn sneakily threw one of his larger shirts over her. That was her favorite part of aftercare, his scent and warmth engulfing her even after they had gone to bed.

“I’m not too tired yet, lets watch the movie.”, she answered, brushing past him to the living area. “’Not too tired’, that hurt Berdara. I should give you more work next time.”, he grumbled, following her and slapping her rear lightly.

Gwyn laughed. “You could do that, but next time it’s my turn, in case you don’t remember.”, she smiled wickedly, already forming plans on how to make him beg.

“How could I forget, Miss.”, he replied. Apparently, he was already warming up.

They snuggled together on the couch for the remainder of the movie. Gwyn almost drifting to sleep, but she wouldn’t allow Azriel the satisfaction of that. After the movie had ended, and both settled into bed, Azriel still had the nerve to take out his phone, probably checking his always full email account.

“Will you actually get the day off tomorrow, or will they find an excuse to steal you away from me again?”, she asked into the dark.

“I’m all yours tomorrow, come what may. But I still need to keep up to date.”, Azriel reached his hand out to stroke her arm soothingly. Gwyn propped herself up on her elbow to steal a little glance at Azriel’s phone, but instead of his work stuff, his gallery was opened. He was probably searching for some work-related screenshots, but Gwyn had a different idea. Quickly, she snatched the phone away from him to open one particular folder of pictures. She remembered him calling her a simp earlier this evening and found the perfect material for a counterattack.

Azriel had a folder on his phone dedicated only to the various different coffee arts she did for him. He never missed one, starting from the crescent moon, of course including the cat, and ending with the ‘ur cute’. Triumphant, she showed him the screen. “Remember calling me a simp?”

Azriel laughed and grabbed for the phone, scrolling his way through the pictures. “I remember that one, it took me all day to figure out what it was supposed to be.”

Gwyn gasped in mocking shock. “What do you mean, it’s most definitely a tree!”

“But it could also be a puddle, or a cloud, or…”, he started, interrupted from the pillow Gwyn threw in his face. His laugh was muffled.

“It hurts me, how non-appreciative you are of my art and love for you.”, she informed him, propping the pillow back under her head.

Azriel leaned towards her to peck her nose. “I am very appreciative of it, you know that. It used to be the highlight of my day. Of course now, every hour I am with you is the highlight.” All laughter was forgotten, replaced by a deep understanding of each other. “And I was obsessed with you even before you started with the art.”

“I KNEW it!”, she didn’t know it at the time, but she could pretend to have the upper hand now.

She did remember her nerves the day she decided to call his number. How she asked him out on a date and then had to go to a boxing class to work away the adrenalin that was left from it. But her story had a happy ending, and she could laugh about her freakout in hindsight.

He didn’t pick up. After it took Gwyn a meditation practice and a little sip of wine to finally dial the number, he didn’t pick up. But it also felt wrong to leave a message, she would have to be more prepared for that. Like, actually writing out a little speech to recite after the beep. And she just knew that she would hopelessly ramble on, sabotaging her shot at the god.

Gwyn was currently sat by the little reading nook at the window, looking out to the busy street. Was 8pm a weird time to call someone? She just finished eating dinner, her work at the city archives had run late today. Maybe his work kept him occupied too?

Gwyn tried to pick up a book to let some time pass before she’d try again. Or would she come off as too pushy, calling twice in one evening? She put down the book and settled to pace up and down her window instead. She even crewed her nails a little.

When her phone rang, she nearly jumped. Taking a few steadying breaths before picking up, she finally accepted the call. “Hello, it’s Gwyn.”

“Gwyn! WHAT did he say?”, it was in fact not the god, but Emerie screaming through the phone right now. Gwyn’s stomach did a little drop.

“Emerie, you scared the crap out of me. I tried to reach him but he didn’t pick up. I want to wait a few minutes before trying again?”

“Oh dear, and I bet you got all hyped up now that I called you.”, she laughed, “well, maybe, if you call him now, you’ll be more calm.” Gwyn doubted that.

The girls chatted for a couple of minutes, Emerie telling her about the rest of her day and that she actually made plans for a blind date. Apparently, she had more luck in love than Gwyn tonight. They said their goodbyes.

Gwyn dialed again.

And, again, reached the voicemail.

Signing, she gave up on the thought of being able to ask him on a date today. Her phone on the coffee table, she readied herself for bed. Doubt started creeping in on her. What if he changed his mind and didn’t want anything to do with her?

Just when she settled in the sheets with a nice calming cup of tea, her phone went off again. Gwyn made sure to check the caller ID this time.

“Hello, its Gwyn.”

“Gwyn?”, she would have recognized that voice anywhere by now, “Hey, it’s the guy from Dawn.”

“I know, I know.”, every cell in her body was working on not making this awkward, “I tired to reach you earlier.”

“Yeah, sorry I missed that. I usually have to lock my private phone away when I’m at work.”, the god explained. “I’m glad you called though. I was wondering if just leaving my number would convince you to do so.”

“Well, it did. I am glad my coffee art convinced you.”, a smile crept into Gwyn’s face and she sat up in bed, hugging her knees to her chest. She was actually speaking with him. And it was surprisingly easy to do so. Very un-god like.

“It did. I would have asked you out in person, but I didn’t see you again in the café after you served me. And I also didn’t want to ask your colleague to fetch you like some kind of creep.”, Gwyn could practically feel his half smirk through her speaker.

“I appreciate that.”, a little pause, then she added, “So, you wanted to ask me out?”

“Straight to the point yeah?”, she could definitely feel his smirk, “Gwyn, I think you are the cutest person I have ever met in my life and I would love to take you out on a date. This Friday, if you’re free. And if you want to, of course.”

Gwyn reigned herself in to not interrupt him with a deafening “YES” while he was talking to her. Composed, at least she hoped that’s what she sounded like, she answered, “I would love to go out with you. Friday works just fine. I’m at work until 5pm.”

They quickly exchanged their addresses and worked out a time and a place to meet on Friday night. Just before they ended their call, a though struck Gwyn. She had been so used to calling him ‘god’ in her mind that she didn’t even notice.

“Well, I am looking forward to see you. By the way, what’s your name?”

The god laughed, “Fuck, I didn’t even tell you that, did I?” Gwyn liked to pretend that was because he was nervous for this call as well. “My name is Azriel.”

#gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #azriel #gwyneth berdara #acotar #acotar writing #modern au #azriel x gwyn #smut #acotar smut

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

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Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds

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rayofsunas · 4 years

Text

s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

A/n: hello everyone! I hope your day is going alright, and that you’re doing well 🥰 I recently hit 300+ folllwers, like Sunday morning, and omg, that was the best thing to wake up too 🥺❤️ thank you those new and old for following and taking a chance with my account and sometimes trashy works 🙃 I’m gonna make a longer post at some point saying my thanks and discuss what I plan to do to celebrate 300 followers. It would really mean a lot to me if you guys chimed in if you have any ideas, after all, this is a thanks to you and I want you all to be involved! also, if you saw my recent rambles about how a draft was deleted, it’s referring to this post... what I had written got deleted TWICE in the span of FIVE MINUTES. gosh I was so pissed, I almost screamed. mobile tumblr is not it 😔 but here we are. I hope you like this. I tried to write this three times.... 🤡 also, since I am not a doctor or anything, I put a link to possible symptoms/what a “mental breakdown” is, that’s in the warnings, just click the link, it helped with my accuracy.

Summary: s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

Parings: Xiao/Reader, Scaramouche/Reader, Albedo/Reader, Childe/Reader (all fem reader)

Warnings: angst, mental breakdown (panic attacks, stress, anxiety, ptsd, hallucinations, insomnia) fluff, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of injury

Word count: 3.5k (whew after tumblr DELETING this draft twice here we are folks ;-;)

requested by @mintyhuening

Xiao

he knew you weren’t okay at all

Xiao knew the moment you locked yourself in your house

at first he thought maybe you were just temporarily feeling this way, but as the weeks passed and you hadn’t come out, he decided maybe not

coming from someone who enjoyed silence and solitude he could understand the distancing part, but it had been weeks, and even he needed socialization, so why hadn’t you come out?

you spoke to him through the door a few times, letting him know you were alright

he didn’t believe that though, sure you were alive, but not alright, he was mainly checking for confirmation to see if you were still alive while he thought of a good way to approach the situation

he didn’t want to invade your privacy, but he also hated the fact that you wouldn’t come out, not even to see him

it was lonely without you, he concluded

even for someone who enjoy solitude

you were a careful creature, but never this careful and cautious...

were humans always like this?

eventually, he couldn’t stand it, and did find other ways to get into your house

he grew antsy after pacing outside your door for days

he found you huddled in your bed, a heap of pillows and blankets surrounding you

you were shocked to see him when he’d sat down on the foot of the bed, causing it to dip significantly

“How did you get in?” You snapped once you saw who it was.

“I have my ways.” He said raspily. With a huff of annoyance, you were back to facing the wall, away from the Adepti.

“It’s dark in here.” He announced matter a factly, looking around the nearly pitch-black room, windows and doors covered by sheets and hefty duty curtains. “It’s how I like it.”

“It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t care, go away.”

Xiao was starting to grow impatient surprisingly, he truly just wanted to help, why couldn't you see that?

“Being passive is not going to help the situation, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”

He worried. If he said the wrong, would you push him away even further? If he said the right thing, would you even care? Did you want help?

Xiao moved closer to you, hand going to touch your leg, although it was underneath the blankets, you felt it and did have to admit the affection was comforting.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Xiao said. “Your friends miss you, I miss you as well.”

Maybe if you weren’t cooped up here anymore, you would start to come around. The room and house all together were very stuffy, dark, and depressing, he despised it.

“It’s beautiful outside, come with me,” he'd whispered. “At least if you don’t want to be around people, could you allow me to take you to a secluded area?”

“The fresh air will do you good.”

You were thinking about it, you had to of been if you still cared.

“Fine, mother.” He watched with hope in his eyes as you slowly rose from the bed, and began

The outside world was very very bright at first, enough to induce a headache. But you became used to it the more you were out.

Xiao stayed true to his word like you knew he would unless you wouldn’t have come. You were taken to a very secluded area, there wasn’t even a path or road to it, just green luscious grass, and crystal core everywhere, beautiful blue and orange ones; Anemo and Geo respectively. You weren’t sure where you were, somewhere between Mondstadt and Liyue, you assumed.

The fresh air did wonders, Xiao had noticed. You seemed to open up. Telling him a little of the problem. You had told him about how life was just stressful right now, you hadn’t taken any commissions in weeks, spoken to any of your friends Mondstadt, hence why they had come to him, accusing him of kidnapping and brainwashing you. He was offended, nonetheless let them know that wasn’t the case.

The ever so secluded Xiao would take you out more, slowly introducing you to crowds of people, and would still take you on daily walks to that secret place you now called your special spot.

It would take a while, he knew that, and you wouldn’t be comfortable doing everything that others around you did, maybe not for a while. He could respect that, as long as you allowed him to help and encourage you.

Scaramouche

being a harbinger was HARD, Scaramouche knew that, even if he didn’t admit it

admitting it was challenging, could lead to always being doubted or seen as incompetent. therefore, no one mentions how hard it is

he had been off doing his duties when he got news that you had lashed out at a few lower rank fatui on your team, resulting in you being called in to meet with The Tsaritsa... let's just say she went easy on you because you were one of her highest ranking soldiers, if not, she would've severely punished you

you were forced back to your sleeping quarters immediately to calm down, told to stay put until you could stop “lashing out like a child” as she had put it

you weren’t one to argue against The Tsaritsa, everyone knew that was common rule... so you walked back as calmly as you could without snapping at anyone else

when Scaramouche had heard how you acted, he was annoyed

the always so calm and calculated Y/n, lashing out at her fellow members? he couldn’t help but be annoyed, despite it being completely out of character of you

he had finished his duties relatively quick, wondering why you were acting so out of character

when he got back, he found you in your sleeping quarters, pacing in front of the large windows near the furthest end of your room

you were still wearing your typical combat gear, though your hair disheveled and body language looking extremely anxious, he hoped it was not yours...

“What did you do this time?” Had asked the violet-eyed man, carelessly throwing his hat on your bed, lean arms folding across his chest.

No response.

“Excuse me, I believe I asked you a question.”

A loud irritable huff.

“Be quiet for once in your life, Scaramouche.” You hissed, anxiously biting at your nails. “Sorry- I’m just trying to calm down, but my heart can’t stop racing.”

Scaramouche wasn’t the most in-touch person with his feelings, and out of all the harbingers, he was one of the more difficult ones to deal with.

Surprisingly, he had shut up, despite finding it difficult to hold his malicious comment back.

“What’s wrong?” Your lover asked, more softly this time.

“My mission today was... hard. I know you said it’s important for missions to just be a one and done; no hard feelings. And you know I’ve always been that way. But this one was different.” His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creasing in annoyance.

“I can’t help but think about what they did.”

“Did you get what you went for? I heard you sought after information regarding that Knight, Aether.”

“Yes, but-”

“I’d call that a successful mission,” He stared intensely, casually moving to sit on the comfort of your bed. Of course, he wouldn’t take this seriously. “Any casualties?”

“None of our men, but-”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“There were children, three little children, and those idiots just slaughtered them.”

“Ah... I see.”

Despite stating he understood, he really couldn’t sympathize with what you were saying. Those children were enemies as long as they worked against The Tsaritsa.

Your voice suddenly cut through the silence, staring directly into his eyes, “What if those were our children?”

“They weren’t.” Your eyes rolled at his comment.

“But what if!” He rolled his eyes, mocking your previous action.

“But they weren’t.” He mocked for a second time.

“You’re not helping, Scaramouche!”

“You’ll never understand, unless you see what I saw,” He knew you were right to some degree, but even then would he feel bad? A mission was a mission after all.

“They were begging me to protect them, and the youngest, she would not let go of my arm and then the next thing I knew, they were dead.” You continued, left hand going to grip your right, he assumed to show him where and how the said girl had gripped you. You were still shaking, this time being closer, he noticed how bad it was.

“They were pleading, I told them I would try my best, and then-” He had long ago stood, making himself present in front of you. His warm hands had grabbed your shaking ones harshly, ceasing the trembling momentarily.

“Please, be quiet,” The sixth harbinger snipped. “I don’t like seeing you upset.” Although it sounded harsh, he was trying his best to make it sound how he felt, even if those feelings were minuscule towards this specific topic.

“Although, I don’t agree with you about this particular concern of yours- I will do whatever you need to help you.”

Albedo

now, he may just be an alchemist, but trust me, Albedo sees the signs before anyone, he has some sort of familiarity with them due to his incessant reading

and it may have taken him longer to see the signs because of how busy he was, but he saw them

he was no fool to the likes of insomnia, in fact he knew it very well, often staying up very late into the night and morning, sometimes for days at a time

he was cooped up in his lab and it wasn’t as if his body wasn’t tired, cause hell he was, there was just s much more to learn and discover, his brain WOULD not stop,

Albedo hadn’t known how long this had been going on for, but he was seeing signs now

ngl, he didn’t notice that you hadn’t been sleeping properly until one night he decided to accompany you in bed earlier than usual (It was three a.m, yikes), and found that you were awake still

you were lying still on your side of the bed, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he reached over to kiss your cheek, only to see your eyes open, he would’ve assumed you were alright and asleep

“You’re awake?” The ashy-blonde man asked, sliding into bed next to you.

“Can’t sleep.” You shrugged nonchalantly, scooting closer to him, seeking his warmth and comfort.

“You should’ve come to get me, I would’ve come to bed earlier with you.”

“It’s alright, I peeked in to see if you were still alive,” You joked, he chuckled. “You seemed very busy.”

“Yes, but, I thought I told you to remind me when you need attention, I often get sidetracked and enamored with my work.”

“It’s quite alright, Albedo. As long as you’re sleeping.”

He hummed, whispering tired words of adoration in your ear. That carried on for a while, as long as talking about the day's work and whatnot, until you eventually questioned, “Can I play with your hair?” The gesture was sweet, and that did sound amazing right about now since he was on the brink of sleep, but just needed that little push. But weren’t you tired?

“Aren’t you tired?”

You sat up, climbing behind Albedo, gently placing his head in your lap. “I’ll go after you.” A soft smile adorned your beautiful face. “You need sleep, you stay up for Archon knows how long.”

He selfishly allowed his eyes to close and waited for sleep to accompany him while you began untangling his two braids and ponytail. You played with and braided his hair until he’d fallen asleep as you said. You stayed up the rest of the morning though.

Eventually, probably out of boredom, you fell asleep for an hour or two around five a.m. Though, unfortunately, you were back up before six. You busied yourself while Albedo slept, starting with cleaning his lab. Albedo often did not like people touching his books, paperwork, and findings, but after instructing you how to properly take care of his stuff, he welcomed your help with open arms, seeing as though his lab was ALWAYS in shambles from not having enough time to take care of things himself.

Albedo surprisingly woke up around nine, wavy hair surrounding him like a lion, you chuckled to yourself at the sight. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright, considering my sleep schedule is nonexistent a lot of the time.” You nodded, bumping shoulders teasingly. “How about you?”

“Okay,” You said, immediately changing the subject. “I woke up early, so I cleaned your lab, I hope it’s to your likings, Kreideprinz.” You teased, bowing at the waist.

The alchemist waved you off, with a smile. “We’ll see about your organizational skills after you eat.”

How had he known?

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Albedo asked, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“That obvious.” You wondered trailing after him.

“You always wait for me, darling.”

“You look exhausted.” Albedo’s concerned voice cut in through the smooth Mondstadt breeze. You had been so distracted with the discovery in front of you, you hadn’t realized your boyfriend was staring directly at you. “When was the last time you slept?” He glanced back down at the discovery, still listening, but if you didn’t speak soon he’d be lost in his world again.

“A day or two, but-” Albedo probably got whiplash from how hard he’d snapped his head to face you, but now he was staring at you with features reading nothing but shock, cerulean eyes blown wide.

“I think your bad sleeping schedule is contagious.” You joked, trying to make the situation lighter-hearted. He didn’t laugh.

Albedo was more serious this time, proving it when he faced you completely. “What’s been going on?” His voice was soft, but he was extremely worried.

Nervousness built up in his lover's body. “Nothing! I just-” You sighed. Might as well tell him the truth, he’d coerce the answer from you no matter what it took. “It’s been harder to sleep after my injury from that ruin guard. When it hit me, I banged my head against the concrete, and ever since I guess it’s been hard to sleep.”

“You could've told me sooner. I would have stopped everything and anything for you.” Yes, that was true, that was the problem though. You didn’t want to be coddled like a baby

“I know, I’m not sure why I didn’t... Naturally, I don’t want to worry you.”

He moved closer to you so he could cradle your face in his hands. “You can always tell me anything you know that.”

“I understand that. You’re a busy man so-”

“From this moment on, my work will be dedicated to finding a cure for you.”

You panicked, not wanting to stop his work for the likes of what you were dealing with. “What? Wait no-”

“You can’t stop me, darling. You take precedence over everything.”

Albedo made it his goal to do whatever possible to help you. Whether it be spending days in his lab making concoctions in hopes of creating something that could safely aid you with sleep. Or he’s in the libraries, reading all the books on the wellness and health of humans. He’s already on top of it the minute you expressed your concerns. In the meantime, he’s going to make sure he goes to bed with you much earlier, and won’t go until you do, to ensure you’re resting.

We love sweet caretaker Albedo.

(I understand insomnia can have other causes, not just a mental or nervous breakdown, but it’s kind of implied when reader hurt her head that she’s not well.)

Childe

Childe is simply not going to know your not well, he just won’t, it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s more so the fact that he has a hard time paying attention to anything other than his missions and duties, he does not want to slow down

you have to show signs or tell him to realize

he decided to take a break though, seeing as he did promise you dinner tonight. he told you it would be his treat, since he did have a bunch of Mora lying around that he simply had no other use for

he figured a nice dinner and trip to one of the nicer cities with more to offer would be nice, he would buy you anything you desired

it was nearing the time for dinner though, and the reservations had already been made, so when he was left waiting, let's just say he was irked...

if you didn’t want to show up, you would’ve told him, so maybe you forgot? he concluded that couldn’t be it

the last time he’d brought it up, two days ago, you had been so excited you couldn’t sit still nor stop talking about it

asking a few people around town if you had been spotted anywhere, some said you had wandered off to Luhua Pool, something about there being a myth about special healing properties within the water

now he was even more confused

one, you NEVER went to Luhua Pool, there was never a need to do so

two, special healing properties? why would you need that? were you hurt in his absence?

you were his family, and he loved his family more than anything, so if something was wrong, he’d do whatever it took to help you

he traveled from Snezhnaya to Luhua Pool in record speed

he did find you eventually, the sun was setting, but thanks to the glowing water he could make your form out easily

you were hunched over, in what looked like to be some simple greenish cloth dress, he couldn’t see what you were doing, and called out your name

no answer

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” The orange-haired teen asked, crouching down beside his lover to see what was wrong.

“Cleaning.” You had said. That’s when his dull blue eyes traveled to what you were doing, watching with a confused stare as you scrubbed at what seemed to be clean hands.

“Hmm, I see...” He couldn’t tell if this was a prank or not, you usually played along with his teasing nature. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Was that really today?” Your head lifted, leaving your hands to momentarily hanging in the air, water droplets dripping off into the pool.

Okay... so you did forget it seemed, which did shock him seeing as though you were over the moon, less than seventy-two hours ago.

“Uh, yeah, did you really forget? That’s unlike you! I’ve learned women don’t forget anything.” He teased, hand going to his chin. You hummed, turning back to do whatever it was you had been previously.

The harbinger frowned. “Do you still want to go? We can make it if we’re fast.” You sounded like a robot, much like a ruin guard, he concluded.

“I’m sorry, not today, I’m dirty...”

Childe couldn’t help but chuckle, “Dirty? Sweetheart, you’re cleaner than most people I’ve seen, what’re you on about-”

“The blood, it’s stained my hands, can’t you see?” Even after holding your hands to show him, he saw nothing resembling blood.

“Are you playing games with me? Sure, it would’ve been funny any other day, not today though-”

“You don’t believe me?” You sounded hurt, but whatever was going on, he wouldn’t feed into these... false hallucinations. “The townspeople said the same thing, they called me crazy...” You scrubbed even harder at your hands, letting out a frustrated huff.

“I don’t see anything, I’m really sorry,” He said gently, reaching into the water to grasp your warm hands in his, “But if you continue to do that...I will see the blood.”

Childe was not sure what was going on, maybe some sort of PTSD? Although, he wasn’t sure where it could’ve come from... you’re not a harbinger or fatui, or anyone that is engaged in battle, etc. so it didn’t make sense. Unless something happened that decided to resurface now.

He immediately took you home, hand in his to keep you from further scratching your hands. On the journey, you often asked, “Why are you even touching me? There’s a lot of blood.”

He didn’t want to have to feed into whatever was going on, worried he’d damage you somehow, and he didn’t want to make you sound crazy, so instead he said, “Because I love you.”

When you both arrived home, he’d immediately laid you in bed, saying you appeared tired before going to search for a doctor.

Child will see every and all doctors in Teyvat and will pay whatever amount necessary to figure out what’s wrong, that’s for sure. Doesn’t take orders from the harbingers (not like he was anyways) and opts to stay close to you at all times.

He decided to keep his teasing to a minimum, though he found that sometimes things slipped out accidentally, he’d do anything in his power to help you.

1.18.21, rayofsunas

#rayofsunas #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #childe #childe x reader #tartagalia #xiao #xiao x reader

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.”

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting.

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt.

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

* * *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold.

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

* * *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours.

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper.

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity.

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.”

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life.

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me.

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat

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navyhyuck · 3 years

Text

t: this is the story of how we fell in love, apparently.

pairing | lee donghyuck x reader (female)

genre | fluff, humor, youtuber!au, roommates!au, friends-to-lovers!au

synopsis | running a youtube channel with your best friend isn’t easy, not when he’s like a ticking time bomb that’s constantly bubbling up something new. what’s worse is that you’ve had a crush on him for the past three years.

warnings (not all included in teaser) | swearing, suggestive, sexual innuendos/jokes, a few descriptions of food, mentions of covid-19 and quarantine, some personal negativity

projected word count | 13k+ (teaser: 2k)

expected release date | 6 june 2021 est (linked here)

taglist | @ukiyoneo @sicluvz @thiccseokmin @lanadreamie @hyuckefi @kravitee @tenderfrailty @choerriesmotion @theskzvibe @jaeshark

notes from vee | hi, welcome to my blog and thanks for taking the time to read this post at that. i’ve finished one of the most important exams i’ve ever taken in my life and i decided, why not celebrate that ending by releasing a teaser to a fic i’ve been dying to share? this is one entire snippet of the fic in entirety and it may or may not be mildly inspired (read: absolutely 100% inspired) by the way brooke (@lebrookestore) and i dm each other. also!!! just a brief introduction that this entire fic takes place during the corona age! meaning there are mentions of masks and covid and etc., no character gets it but just a psa for mentions! also, i did mention that hyuck and y/n are roommates, but they also live with mark and jaemin in this fic! :) anyway, please enjoy and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

iii. we bought matching leather jackets!

“Hello and welcome back to doing dumb shit with Y/N and Haechan!” You announce cheerily as you press down on the record button, settling the camera in front of your seat to capture Donghyuck in the driver’s seat as well. He looks half wasted—if that was even possible—with his hair absolutely tousled and his lips just a bit swollen from earlier sleep, but he waves to the device at your voice. At the sight of him, you reach over to fix his hair, patting his head softly as you finish.

He watches you with parted lips as you take charge with the usual introduction, clapping your hands in excitement as you urge everyone to subscribe to the channel. Your eyes seem to shine more than usual—perhaps because today’s video was 100% your idea, not his, Renjun’s, or even Mark’s—with the light reflecting from them making it very easy for him to grow addicted to your look. Your look? You weren’t wearing anything grand, just a hoodie and sweatpants to keep you warm, but it appears like much more against your skin.

“—and well, Mark and I used to come here a lot around like junior year in uni, so I thought I’d visit by again.” You continue on, glancing over at your friend as he hurls back into reality. “Plus I convinced Haechan to come with me so we could pick out something together. You know, like a couple sort of thing? But for best friends.”

Your smile radiates when you face him, and he nearly loses his breath. Best friendship charms were a thing of a past—maybe perhaps expressed through matching ice cream necklaces that spell out ‘BFF’ in mellow yellow and bright pink, or small custom-made keychains that have names written in cursive hearts—something that children in elementary school treasured for years. Donghyuck doesn’t remember ever having matching blue neckties with Mark Lee, or matching knitted socks with Huang Renjun, but he also doesn’t resist when you explain your plan for the day. If anything, he’d love to match with you.

“Most of the clothing here is handmade and really good quality too. I think the jacket I bought for Jun as a gift like two years ago is still in pretty good shape.” You explain, gesturing towards the shop entrance as if the device was pointing that way. “Anyway! I’ll link the store’s website in the description below as well as Renjun’s channel! You guys should definitely check—”

Your heart gives away as Donghyuck reaches an arm over your shoulders, quietly resting his hand on your arm before squeezing it gently in acknowledgment. He shoots you a questioning look as you stumble over your words, raising an eyebrow as if to ask ‘what’s wrong?’ You only shake your head in return, trying to calm down the intense beats, and proceed.

“Uh,” you smile lightly, having forgotten what you were going on about. “Well, yeah! Let’s go now!”

The interior of the store smells strongly of cologne when you immediately enter—and it throws you off for a bit—making you hum at the scent. The scent is almost addictive in a way that makes you want to enter the shop further and explore everything it has in store for you. Donghyuck notices your reaction, chuckling under his breath before snatching the camera from your hands.

“It smells like good cologne in here,” he mentions, keeping his voice low in respect to the non-existent other customers. “And you guys already know Y/N gets addicted to that shit, right? Yeah, she’d marry anything that wears cologne.”

“Stop overreacting,” you say, curling your fingers into his shirt and tugging him towards a specific section of the store. His eyes fall upon racks filled with dark colored leather jackets, varying from black to blue to red. Turning the camera towards you, he follows you as you stroll down the aisle in intrigue.

After a few more steps, you turn around abruptly to face your best friend, holding out your hands. Even though the dark mask covers your excited expression, he can still imagine you glowing in his head.

“Hyuck. We should get matching leather jackets.”

He can’t even crack a joke at your words—not when he gets lost in your waiting eyes—only responding with a breathy chuckle and slow nod. You shoot him a thumbs up before whirling towards the clothing again; gesturing him over, you get to work on your choosing magic for the day.

“So guys,” you start when Donghyuck’s settling to camera close enough, “first rule of thumb is you have to find a color or pattern that looks the best on you.”

“Not what you like best.” Donghyuck finishes for you, making you award him with a pat to his hand.

“Second is—well, at least for me considering I always like making my clothing comfortable—make sure you choose the right size in the color you look best in. Don’t settle for anything less, even if you think you ‘might like it’ in the future. Because most likely—” you lean into the device, focusing your eyes on Donghyuck, “—if you don’t like it now, you won’t fall in love with it later.”

“Are you sure?” He interrupts just as you take a breather, and you send him a look of confusion. “There’s probably several people that probably ended up liking their bad decision, like, years later. I mean, you definitely thought that about me.”

You pause momentarily, taking a while to actually process whatever information he’s attempting to currently throw at you. Though Donghyuck could be a handful from time to time (read: all the time), you don’t necessarily consider him a bad decision in any way; you remember receiving comments from the early days of your channel from fans who enjoyed expressing far too much by saying your best friend is a burden. It angered you then, and it would still anger you now.

“I’ve always liked you,” you narrow your eyes, missing the way he blanks out. “Bad decision? You’re a person, not a piece of clothing. I wouldn’t suddenly stop loving you.”

The words spill out before you can even filter them out, and it increases your heart rate in the slight. Pretending to be normal about it, you look back towards the jackets on the rack, examining one with absolutely nothing about leather jackets on your mind. You may have crossed some invisible line by saying—only indirectly—that you love him, but you pray Donghyuck doesn’t notice. When you catch a glimpse of the device in his hands, however, you know someone else well.

Instead of pondering on the thought, you manage to refocus on where you are and what you’re here for. You couldn’t have a mental breakdown over your best friend (and crush, though you’d like to forget that you’re falling into that hole) in the middle of a handmade quality goods shop that included only one employee watching the two of you at the front desk; it would draw more than just a little attention. Although the miniature confession of love seems to do something, as Donghyuck loops his arms into yours as you continue on your search journey. You’d by lying to say you didn’t enjoy it.

“Look at this one,” he stops the two of you and passes the camera into your hands. You set it up to film him pulling down a specific jacket, finished with gray flowers embroidered on the front flap and pins with various meanings attached to the chest. Donghyuck rubs a finger over a specific one that reads ‘babygirl’ and chuckles; he hands it over to you, pulling the device into his hands again. “Try it on.”

“Oh, it’s for me?” You ask, running your hand over the cool material. “I thought you were choosing for yourself.”

He waves you off. “Just put it on.”

You pull off your hoodie first, throwing it to the other boy before pulling the jacket over your arms and flattening it down to your stomach. The mirror reflects you back—and you nearly cringe—showing you in all your leather glory. “God, I forgot how stupid I look in leather.”

“What?” Donghyuck hands you back your hoodie as you take the jacket off, scrunching his eyebrows to add effect. “You look good, stupid. No, no, no, you’re getting it.”

“Haechan.” You yank out the professional name, which makes him stutter. “It’s fine, I’ll just get another one that’s not super crazy or anything. Just black is enough, any embroidery is gonna make me look dumb.”

He huffs, snatching it from your hands and turning the camera towards him. Although his smile isn’t visible, his eyes scrunch up as he holds the fabric up to the lens. “Anyway, I’m buying this for her. She’ll wear it pretty much like everything I’ve ever bought her, but she actually looks really good with this on. You know what, comment down below if you think Y/N looks hot with this jacket on.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes dramatically for effect before shrugging. It would be his burden of cost after all.

“And Jaem,” he adds as soon as you walk out of hearing distance, “don’t edit that out, no matter what she says.”

You end up choosing your friend’s leather jacket as well, settling with a deep black color that you believe matches his hair. It isn’t too fancy, but the various movie themed pins definitely aided in your choice. The one that hits your eye first is the Ghostbusters pin on the flap of the collar; perhaps it may be the reason you hand it to him in the first place. Donghyuck likes it better than you do, from your perspective, which makes you smile further.

In all honesty, you think he looks great. Actually, great might be an understatement from the way you refuse to rip your eyes away from his figure as he checks himself out in the mirror. You try to see past what you’ve gotten yourself into, but your mind doesn’t let you, only making you bask in all the glory that your best friend offers in front of me.

Donghyuck is good looking; he’s more attractive than you’d like to admit, though the way he catches your gaze signals to him that you don’t need to reply with words. Your looks are enough to give it away.

“Like it?” He asks you, unable to contain the smirk that plasters on his face. It goes unnoticed to you, of course, being unable to see it, but you nod immediately. “You can film me now.”

“Oh-oh, right,” you fumble not so gracefully with the camera, hiding the way your cheeks flush in embarrassment, and position it to capture him spinning around on his heel. You find out that staring at him through the small camera screen seems to work as a better excuse for getting caught up in the beats of your own heart. He tops it off with finger guns accompanied by sound effect before chuckling under his breath.

“What do you think, Y/N? Does it look good on me?”

You nod again, slower than earlier. He seems to be the opposite from you, completely in love with his entire look of a plain T-shirt you’re sure he stole from Jeno and denim pants of a dark gray topped off with the fresh leather jacket, but you can’t blame him for his pride. He looks damn good in leather, in one way or another.

“You look good in leather,” you comment truthfully, keeping your voice as steady as you can. Gulping, you hope he (or the camera, for that matter, including over a million of your viewers) can’t hear the mask of instability behind it. Were you really about to fall into thousands of pieces in a shop because of Lee Donghyuck? Maybe. But you don’t want it to be known to the world.

He laughs again, approaching you and snatching the camera from your hands. Maneuvering it to film the two of you, an arm snakes around your shoulders, pulling you closer to the boy. “Can you see how flustered she is? Yeah, that’s what someone like me will do to you. Care to explain why, sweetheart?”

Every ounce of attractiveness that you deemed to Donghyuck drops. “Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. Who are you, Jaemin?”

He gives you an incredulous look. “Is Jaemin only allowed to give you pet names? I can’t?”

“They’re not pet names,” you attempt to shuffle away from under his arm, but he fastens an arm around your waist instead, yanking you back. It startles you, but the hand you press to your best friend’s chest in order to stabilize yourself catches his attention too. “He’s just a very…endearing individual, and c’mon, he likes to express his love like that.”

“And why can I not?”

You pause, taking a moment to turn towards the boy himself. He’s already looking at you, however, inching closer to move his face impossibly closer to yours. The breath that you inhale stays there, unable to leave your lungs as you begin to feel the pounding of your heart increase. His addicting scent sends you reeling backwards as he giggles, and you scoff in mock annoyance.

“You’re a nuisance, Lee,” you murmur under your breath, now trying to get the view of his eyes gazing into yours out of your head. It’s hard, knowing that if the two of you weren’t wearing masks, your lips would be only minute spaces away. Whining, he latches an arm through yours. “No pet names for you, get off.”

“Come on, please? Last time I checked, you run a channel with me, not Jaemin. I deserve to name you something endearing too, for example, my microwaved marinara sauce. Or even better, my delightful half eaten chicken wing. Or—”

“They’re supposed to be cute,” you whisper, barely realizing your words were heard by Donghyuck. He considers it momentarily, halting his list of ridiculous names to call you by to remove his arm. Instead, he nonchalantly slips his hand into yours, intertwining his fingers enough to have you hitching your breath. The movement is far more intimate that you’d allow yourself to admit, so you hold his hand back.

“How about ‘my love’ then?” He asks, quietly, watching for your reaction. You don’t respond immediately, needing to address your heart rate once again. If he goes any further, you might have to ask him to drive you to the emergency room. “Well everyone, considering she didn’t complain to that, that’s her designated pet name now. It trumps Jaemin right? Shall I try it out?”

Grumbling, your attempt to pull away from your best friend goes into the air as he holds your hand tighter and leans in close, brushing his mask right across the covered side of your cheek.

“How about I pay for you, my love?”

hi there! in case you didn’t know, this fic has been released! it’s linked here! :)

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