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annie-sae · 3 years

Text

Wouldn’t mind

Pairing: Kazutora x fem!reader, past Baji x fem!reader

Hurt/comfort

Author note: This is my way of dealing with Baji’s death finally being animated, this is me comforting myself so I don’t keep crying.

Also, I posted this on AO3 as well:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33561445

Part of the reason you decided to get close to him was kind of the same reason why you decided to help out Chifuyu and the remaining founding Toman members in any way you could; even if that meant putting yourself in various fights. It was a way to honor his memory.

You met Baji Keisuke; your Kei; as nothing more than a child because you were neighbors and your mom happened to be friends with his mother which ended in them arranging lots of playdates for you both ever since you could remember.

Your mothers always said you were meant to be and they were right, so yeah, they were delighted once you two finally stopped denying yourselves and started to date.

You two got together after one time in which Baji got into a particularly bad fight and you found him on your way home; his hands all bruised but despite how much they must have been hurting he was smiling in that unique way of his that always told you that no matter the pain he won and enjoyed himself.

To be honest you didn’t like that he always got into fights nor how reckless he could be but you had to admit that there was always something about the way his eyes glinted that drew you in.

You dragged him inside your home, knowing that his mother would flip out if she saw him and taking advantage of the fact that your mother was to get home late, you pushed him to the couch, went to the kitchen for a bag of frozen vegetables, grabbed his hand after cleaning the blood off and held the bag to his knuckles hoping that it would bring down the swelling.

There was no way of knowing who made the first move but next thing you knew after that was that you two were kissing; the frozen bag laying on the floor long forgotten. After that you finally acknowledged your feelings and started dating. There was no grand gesture, it was just one of many moments that you shared daily yet it was perfect.

Baji liked to keep you away from Toman businesses so for the most part you didn’t actually know the rest of the members except for Chifuyu; whom you met on various occasions while going to visit your boyfriend; and Mikey that you met as a child since you were always following around Baji and in a way became your friend too; but that was it. He kept that apart from the side of his life that involved you because he was well aware of how messy it could get and he didn’t want to drag you into any trouble.

Yet his gang life caught up to him, crashing into your world and pushing you into a lonely abyss that still to this day left a hole in your chest.

You’d always remember that dreaded day when your mother came home later than usual without letting you know anything, eyes teary and red rimmed. The moment she looked at you, she pulled you into a strong hug and sobbed as she caressed your hair murmuring a string of words you couldn’t really make out.

She was the one to deliver the news of his passing, how she was late because she was at the Baji household and had to accompany his mother to claim her son’s body after the woman received a call from the police station telling her that the boy had been stabbed and bled to death.

The day would never come when you’d forget the pain that shot through your body as you learned that he was gone. It hurt unlike anything else you have ever experienced, as if someone was crushing your chest like it was made out of paper, air knocked out of your lungs and the only thing you could do was scream helplessly his name as you held for dear life onto your mother’s frame. You felt bile rise up your throat so fast that it was a miracle that you didn’t throw up.

His funeral wasn’t any easier. Not when you arrived and his mom pulled you to his casket saying just how handsome he looked, inviting you to see him in a way that you couldn’t refuse.

Around an hour after yourself, arrived Chifuyu who went to you after giving his condolences to his best friend’s mother that held him the way she used to hold her boy but now she’d never get the chance to do anymore.

If you were being completely honest, you couldn’t remember much more of that day, your mind was hazy, too many gaps in the memory of all that transpired.

Only two things were clear as day in your mind. First was the way that Kei had looked inside that coffin smiling peacefully and for a moment you almost fooled yourself into thinking that he was just sleeping, but he was pale, his canines weren’t showing and his eyes were slightly sunken but you had to agree with his mom because he looked handsome indeed. The second was that Chifuyu stayed by your side throughout the whole thing, in fact he was the one who told you what actually happened and you were thankful for it all.

He told you what Baji did and why he did it and you believed it the second the words left his mouth because you knew him well and if there was anything that defined your beloved boyfriend was his heart, how willing he was to give anything for those that he cared about; his unwavering loyalty; you just wished he hadn’t put himself on the line for that.

Twelve years have passed and a lot of things changed since his parting, for starters you became a member of Toman.

One night; around a month after everything happened; you went to the Musashi temple fully aware that it was the place that the boys used as their base and in front of everyone gathered there; bracing yourself; you walked towards Mikey, bowed deeply and begged for him to accept you as a member.

At first most of the guys there laughed at you while others frowned and called you names shooing you away but you stayed still, that was until a big hand grabbed you by the arm and that was when you pulled away from it and punched the guy square in the nose remembering the time Baji taught you how to pack a punch. The guy tried to send a blow towards you but was stopped by Chifuyu yet the whole commotion came to a halt with Mikey’s commanding voice.

“Y/N, you know this is a guys-only gang”

“I’m aware, Mikey, but” you clenched your fists “but Keisuke cared about this gang so I feel like I must join, to protect everything he fought for” you raised your head “he also taught me how to fight so you don’t have to worry about me being a burden on you and I know a few things about first aid, I can carry my own weight” you were thankful for your mother being a nurse and having taught you a bit.

He stared at you, his eyes giving away nothing.

“The first division can take her in” Chifuyu supplied.

Mikey raised a brow and looked at another blonde guy.

“Takemitchy, you are the first division’s captain, do you agree to take her?” the guy straightened up and after sharing one look with Chifuyu he nodded.

An uproar started as a lot of guys started to complain about how bad of an idea it was to admit a girl in the gang but Draken stopped them with one word.

Mikey looked at you once more, then he sighed and nodded.

“Then welcome, Y/N L/N, from now on you are a member of the Tokyo Manji Gang under the first division”.

Later that day you gave your thanks to Chifuyu and Takemichi, for getting behind you and promised to help them in any way possible but Chifuyu made you promise to be safe and only join them as a last resource because he couldn’t allow Baji’s girlfriend to get hurt since he promised him he’d take care of you.

You knew that your parents wouldn’t be happy with you being a part of a gang but you had to do it, it was a way to stay close to Kei and you needed that or else you would have gone crazy, you were also thankful because life had it that you were assigned to the division that used to be his.

Shit happened but you always took things head on and you had to admit that Chifuyu and Takemichi played a crucial part in you surviving all the crappy things that happened until the gang disbanded. While still a member you were extremely grateful for makeup since it helped you hide from your parents a good amount of nasty bruises that came from the fights.

The second thing that changed was that you moved out of your parents’ house from the moment you started college and although at first it was hard and you were living in a tiny apartment that resembled more to a matchbox yet it was the only thing you could afford at the moment with the part time job you had but you were decided to not return home, not because you weren’t comfortable with them but because they were already doing too much for you by paying for your studies so you didn’t want them to be spending any more money on you.

You managed and after a while you got a better job that meant a higher pay grade and you moved out of your tiny place to your current one that was bigger and just a couple of minutes away from the cemetery where the Baji family grave was.

Even when you had exams due the next day, even when you were way too busy, you still made it a habit to go visit him daily, it didn’t matter if you had to walk for long or that you were so tired you could have fallen asleep while standing, you still went to see him.

Your mother told you once that maybe you should let go, that he wouldn’t like to have you clinging to him this much and to appease her you went to a couple of dates once every three months but you never made it past the first date but funnily enough that landed you a few long lasting friendships with some of the guys you tried to date.

One time his mom talked to you and told you just how grateful she was with you for loving her son the way you did but that you didn’t owe him anything, that you could move on because she was sure that was what he would have wanted and maybe she was right; to hell you knew that she was; but it wasn’t a matter of you feeling like you owed devotion to him but more like no one ever compared to him, not a single person awoke in you the same feelings he did, not with the same intensity it was kind of like a beautiful curse because you grieved daily his absence but you wouldn’t want it other way, even if you went back and told yourself that by loving him you’d end up in pain, you’d still go through it all because the time spent with him was worth it and you told her that so she smiled and even talked with your mother making her stop begging you to date and leave you to your own devices.

Another thing that changed was you because you cut your hair really short; yet without needing it you still wore a hair tie on your wrist daily as if it was some sort of amulet because it reminded you of him.

Also, with the bigger place you adopted three beautiful cats that you loved dearly, first there was Blue; whose black hair shone blue under certain light hence his name; then there was Leo; an orange tabby cat you found one day and adopted instantly; and Jin; a maine coon that was your appointed guardian and didn’t like anyone around you nor him.

The three always slept with you; which made you thankful for getting a big bed when you first moved; and in a way they made your life less lonely because in their presence you felt as if Keisuke was right there with you which made sense because you two had made plans about living together once highschool was over and then adopt a ton of cats, all the cats your parents never allowed in the house when you were younger.

Of course things don’t always end up the way we plan them, you knew that better than most although to be completely honest you never expected Kazutora to come into the picture.

You new who he was, on one occasion Kei told you that him speaking on his behalf and taking the full blame for what happened with Mikey’s older brother was a big factor on him staying out of juvie so in a way you were thankful to him but you also knew; through Chifuyu’s retelling; what happened on that horrible halloween when you lost your whole world.

Even when you knew that everything had been planned out by Kisaki, for the longest time you were resentful towards Kazutora, even going as far as to curse his sole existence because hadn’t it been for him then your Keisuke would surely still be with you. It took you years for you to come to terms with everything and accept that Baji chose to leave all because he cared about that boy way too much.

You came to realize that by hating Kazutora, by wishing him the worst and spending so much energy in resenting him you were betraying Kei’s wishes.

His final will was to keep Toman’s funding members; Kazutora included; safe, he chose death, going down as a villain to his friends, all just to protect them, to save him so the least you could do was carry on his wishes and look after them, not only after Chifuyu and the others but you also felt the moral obligation towards Keisuke, to welcome Kazutora and help him back into his life.

Now, you went to help around Chifuyu and Kazutora’s shop, fully aware that it was their way of honoring his memory, by living out the dream he never had the chance for.

You could understand them because everyday you did the same, hell, you even went to study veterinary because that had been the plan all those years back; he was supposed to open his pet shop and you were supposed to be the one to tend to the animals, he always said that you had the best shot because you usually did rather good at school.

You met Kazutora the day after Chifuyu picked him up from prison. You already knew that he would be joining you two for lunch the following day because he told you in advance in case you weren’t ready to meet the man that had played a big part in your old boyfriend’s death.

Chifuyu by that point had become your best friend in the world, your constant support. What started as a way to cope with Baji’s loss, as both of you searching in the other for any vestiges of his existence with the passing of the years turned into something more, a fraternal bond forged through shared grief.

Chifuyu was like a brother to you and you knew that he saw you as a sister, you cared about him deeply.

If you were being completely honest, you were a bit torn when a month prior to the release, he announced to you that he’d be picking up the guy and was planning on welcoming him as a roommate and as an extra hand at the shop; that is if the other accepted. I mean, you’d have to be crazy to just accept it as it was, no questions asked because whether manipulated and messed up in the head, it didn’t change the fact that he was the one to stab him.

Of course you knew it hadn’t been easy for him to reach that, it was obvious that he had thought it through, you could see in his eyes just how much went into making that decision but that he was sure that that was Baji would have liked and you knew that as well because that was the type of person Keisuke used to be, a bit rough on the edges but so caring and willing to give for those he loved, and he sure as hell had proven how much he cared about the guy.

You had never talked to him, what little you knew about him was what Baji had mentioned all those years back when he almost went to prison and what Chifuyu told you, how he was getting the help he needed and seemed to be making progress but that was it.

To say it was awkward at first was a big understatement. He was extremely quiet and even after you greeted him he refused to make eye contact while you kept fidgeting in place trying to come up with something to say. Thank god for Chifuyu since he was the one to introduce you although he could have been a bit more careful when he introduced you as Baji’s old girlfriend, although you couldn’t blame him because there was no way around it, that was what you were.

The moment he understood who you were he froze, eyes focusing on his hands under the table. You noticed how uneasy he became and with a look you asked Chifuyu to give you a minute, thankfully he understood and trusting you excused himself from the table.

You reached out, stilling your hand in the middle of the space between you when you saw him flinch, something that reminded you of the time when you encountered Leo for the first time; hurt and scared. Kazutora in a way resembled him, something lonely and broken about him that gave you the final push to get close.

Just like you did way back for Leo you extended your open hand towards him, facing upwards to show him that you had no ill intentions and you rested your hand on the table just a few centimeters away from his arm, not wanting to startle him but wanting to show him that you were trying to get close.

“I don’t hate you, Hanemiya-kun”

His gaze zeroed on your hand and then eyes of the color of the lightest brown you’ve ever seen; almost the same shade as amber; met yours wary and trembling but you simply nodded confirming that you were being completely honest.

“Why?” his voice came out broken.

“Because Keisuke cared about you” you smiled, feeling your eyes get watery and Kazutora’s face became blurry due to the tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I- I wish I could take it all back, I really do, I...” you heard the words come out cracked and you shook your head and reached for his arm.

“I know...it’s fine. Like I said, I don’t hate you, it’s been a while since that happened and I’ve made up my mind, I’ve already accepted it as part of life” that’s a lie and you know, you miss him every day so much that you still cling to the little things he left behind, that’s the reason why you haven’t been in a relationship after him.

You quickly wiped the tears out of your eyes and looked at him once more. “I’d like to be there for you, maybe be friends even, that is if you’d like that”

Kazutora’s mind was running laps. Was he hearing you correctly? Did you actually say that you wanted to be friends with him? Be friends with the guy that killed your boyfriend nonetheless. He couldn’t wrap his head around that thought, it was simply impossible, he was a villain, a rotten fruit that nobody had ever liked and that poisoned the only good things he had in his life, why would anyone want to be near him?

First there was Chifuyu; who for all he could gather used to consider Baji as his best friend; welcoming him into his apartment, offering him a place to stay and even a job no questions asked, that was already hard to understand, but now having you willing to welcome him? That was almost ridiculous because you surely knew, he saw the way you interacted with Chifuyu, there was no way in hell he didn’t tell you, so why?

Why were you being kind to him? So gentle? Why couldn’t you just scream and curse him? Heaven knows for how long he has been cursing himself, regretting everything he did, from Shinichiro to Baji. He deserved to be yelled at, to be shunned away from society, he was deserving of pain and should be tossed to the abyss of loneliness, forever in the dark, far away from the sun.

He couldn’t fathom why on God's name was Baji’s girlfriend in front of him extending her delicate hand towards him. But even when he couldn’t understand he wanted to accept it. He knew he deserved nothing given how he had taken two lives but he wanted the embrace so badly.

He wanted company, friends, he didn’t want to be forever an outcast due to his bad decisions but instead he wanted to belong, to feel some sort of comfort, he wanted to bask in the sun’s warmth and for once in a very long time feel a bit of peace, he wanted saving, someone to tell him he was worthy even when he knew he wasn’t.

He looked at you once more, and something felt warm inside his chest; even his throat tightening; when he saw that you were still smiling gently at him despite the rebel tears that had escaped from your eyes.

“I’d like that” he smiled wobbly. “Also, Kazutora is fine”

“Then let’s be friends, Kazutora-kun” your smile grew broader and that was the start.

Surprisingly after that, it didn’t take long for you to grow comfortable with each other. He was quiet and would often be found spacing off but he was considerate towards you, actually he returned the same kindness you gave him, although it was evident that he was still wary and a bit rough on the edges he tried hard and you could see, so whenever he was having a bad mood you tried not to take it personally.

Through gentle words and patience, you won him over, even those around you were surprised at how quickly he warmed up to you but there was just something in him that pulled you, maybe that same thing that pushed you to adopt Leo when you found him malnourished and hurt on your way home from the cemetery or maybe it was something else.

Just as he warmed up to you, you warmed up to him. It was easy to talk to him, he was always willing to lend you an attentive ear, listening to your ramblings about the monotonous things that happened at the clinic, it didn’t matter that he knew nothing about the people you mentioned, he always listened like it was the most important thing in the world.

At first your interactions were always in company of Chifuyu, mostly at the shop while you went to visit which actually ended in you helping around to organize the merchandise or on the usual checkups on the animals to ensure that they were in the utmost condition for the moment someone decided to welcome them into their home.

Then, Kazutora started to walk you to the station but slowly that turned into him accompanying you all the way home and since he was taking the time to go with you you started offering him a cup of tea at your house before he’d leave again to get back to his and Chifuyu’s place.

That wasn’t the end of it because one cup of tea turned into two, then three and finally what started as a thanks for the inconvenience turned into hours-long talks about the most menial things just because.

Your cats loved him; Blue was always rubbing himself against his legs while Leo wasted no time to go lay on his legs and with a meow demand to be petted at the moment; but the most amazing thing of all was that Jin didn’t hate him, in fact he got way too comfortable with him which was a thing that you’d never seen, the only other person besides yourself that he liked was Hina, hell, not even Chifuyu had been able to charm the bigger cat and now apparently he didn’t mind Kazutora trailing behind you when even up to that day whenever he was visiting Chifuyu would get a growl from Jin but not Kazutora.

He was nice to your babies, he liked them and you could see that he didn’t change his demeanour towards them even when he thought you weren’t looking, in fact his voice got softer when directed at them and you were also the kind of person that trusted animal’s perception so the fact that your beloved cats liked him really told you that he had changed from what little you knew about his ways before being sent to prison after Baji’s death.

Kazutora started noticing the little things about you, for starters the way you’d always be singing a random thing off tune but with such energy that it was amusing but when asked he’d swear on his life that he wasn’t bothered that he actually liked it even though you knew very well that you weren’t a good singer but the opposite yet there was something powerful about having him joining in the middle of your singing, even when he didn’t know the lyrics he’d be humming along.

You were a sight to behold for him because in all the mess of his life he had never encountered someone as lively as yourself. Even after losing Baji you tried your best, you were determined and hardworking and so kind, not only to him but to every living thing no matter if they were animals, people or even plants, you amazed him because you were always so willing to be gentle to anyone.

You were a soothing presence.

That was not to say you didn’t have your bad days, after all you were only human and it was simply impossible to be at one hundred percent everyday the whole day, but you pushed through and you were always quick to ask for forgiveness if you had an outburst towards someone, you were the kind to not withhold apologies even when you weren’t at fault. He could remember a handful of times in which you apologized when he was the one to step on your toes.

You, of all people apologized to him, a social reject, a vermin, you apologized to him as if he was worthy, as if that was the logical thing to do but he knew that no matter what you did he knew that he was the one that still owed you a lifetime of apologies.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew how much Baji meant to you even to that day, he noticed the little pieces of him lingering in your everyday, like how you always wore a hair tie around your wrist even when your hair was way too short for you to ever need it and whenever you had to get your bangs out of your face you used hair clips, never the tie on your wrist, the way you always cracked your knuckles as if getting ready for a fight even if you were only checking the animals and the way you carried yourself in a way resembled the way Baji used to.

He never told you but a few times he found you at the cemetery by coincidence while visiting Baji and there was something heartbreaking about seeing you kneeling on the ground with trembling shoulders despite it being a hot day. He regretted what he did, not only because he felt guilty or ‘cause he missed his friend but also for your sake because he wanted to see your happy smile, he never wanted to hear your cries ever again.

Just like him, you started seeking his company more and more, not only were you inviting him to stay and talk after walking you home but you made plans with him and just him, to go window shopping, for a cup of coffee, lunch dates, movie premieres; because you liked going to the movies so much and discovered that he was an enthusiast as much as you; movies on the couch, even just lazy sundays at your house playing the entire day with your cats.

Of course reaching this state was quick yet slow, it was hard to explain, like you were close to him and enjoyed his company, but it was different than it was with Hina or even Chifuyu yet you wouldn’t call it romantic, not at first.

Sure, there was something to Kazutora, you weren’t blind so you could see clear as day that he was rather handsome, probably one of the prettiest guys you’d ever met but there was something more, something that pulled you, something broken and lonely that tugged at your heart and told you to care for him.

At such a young age he had been to prison on two occasions and you could actually see that that was simply the tip of the iceberg. He had to mature too soon, he mentioned vaguely that his relation with his parents wasn’t the best and his eyes at times looked older than he actually was, plus it took a long time for him to get used to your affectionate ways because your love-language was physical touch. You had a special fascination with hair and all of your friends were used to that but Kazutora was like a kicked puppy that was only learning to trust in people once more.

You were a new breeze of air into his life, with your caring ways and funny nature he fell. For the first time in his life he had someone like you, at first it was difficult for him to realize that the fuzzy feeling inside his gut whenever he looked at you or even heard your voice meant what people called love but it was a given because he had never felt that way before.

For the longest time he felt like love was a lie, he remembered how bad his home life was, how strained and full of pain the things between his parents were, even now from time to time he had nightmares of his mother crying as his father hit her and then her begging him; only a child; to pick sides.

He wanted to hold you close, to keep you away from harm and to listen to your laugh for days on end, for once his heartbeat quickened for someone, he found a safe place in your presence, you were an oasis after years roaming the desert. You were such an unusual kind of certainty in his life that he never had but that he had searched for so long.

While Kazutora realized rather quickly; in comparison to you; that you had wormed your way into his heart making a home for you it took you around three years and others pointing it out for you to actually realize that he meant to you more than a friend.

The first one was your mother although not as subtly but rather by saying that she was happy that you were now with Kazutora which took you by surprise because you weren’t.

That wasn’t the end of it, but only the beginning.

The next one was Hina one day you were sleeping over at her house, but the cherry on top was Chifuyu.

“Hey, I know it’s not really my business, but when are you going to get together?” he asked one time when you went out for coffee.

“What?” you asked mindlessly, stirring some sugar into your beverage.

“Yeah, you’re kind of driving me crazy, it’s kind of annoying feeling like a third-wheel without actually being one, just get it over with” he spoke before taking a sip from his own cup.

“What?” you snapped your head back to him.

“Is that the only thing you’re gonna say?” he looked at you through half-lidded eyes.

“Yes, because I honestly don’t understand a single thing of what you’re saying” you shook your head and took a sip from your coffee.

“What I’m saying is that it’s obvious that you like Kazutora” he said matter-of-factly.

“Of course I like him, he’s my friend, I like you too”.

“No, you don’t, you like me as your friend but you like Kazutora in a different way, a lovey-dovey way” he deadpanned.

“No, Kei-” you began just like you did whenever your mother used to bring up your love life or thereof lack of it.

“Baji-san has been gone for years already” he cut you, wincing as he said that and to you his words felt like a slap across your face.

“Look, I know, trust me, I do, but it’s been long enough and if there is someone that makes you feel good you should go for it, he wouldn’t want you being unhappy for him” he sighed and with a hand pushed his hair back.

“He asked me to take care of you because he wanted you to be alright, he wanted you to be happy and he’d probably punch me if I simply stood by and watched you being miserable” he pushed his cup to the side, leaned over the table to grab you by the shoulders and looked into your eyes seriously.

“I know you like him, don’t be an idiot, it’s painfully obvious with how you look at him and spend almost all of your free time with him, Baji-san won’t be mad at you for finding someone new and I believe that he’d be happy that it is Kazutora of all people”.

Before you could respond to that, the sound of a new message cut you off and when you looked sideways to your phone on the table, a soft smile graced your lips when Kazutora’s name appeared on the screen. Without thinking you opened it and it was some random video of a kitten; somewhere along the way it became a thing between you and it reminded you of how Keisuke used to send you daily pictures of the cats that went to his house.

“It’s Kazutora, right?” Your face grew hot once you came back to reality, remembering suddenly with whom you were and what you were talking about.

“I’ll let you be, but don’t be an idiot and let yourself be happy” and just like that Chifuyu ended that conversation and quickly changed topics.

You knew you liked him, you felt warm whenever he was around you, his voice soothed you even on the worst of days and you looked forward to his messages. You had learned to find comfort in his eyes but they were a wrong shade; not brown enough.

He wasn’t Keisuke. He’d never be.

A few days later you found yourself in the shop, helping around but constantly sending glances in his direction, his back facing towards you, looking painfully similar to Kei’s even down to the hair length, although the color wasn’t the right match with it’s blonde streaks you could still fool yourself into thinking it was him.

But then he’d turn to look at you and send a smile your way and there would be a beauty mark under golden eyes and a tiger tattoo where it shouldn’t have been and that smile was lacking a pair of prominent incisives peeking through.

You knew it was wrong to look at him searching for Keisuke, searching for your lost love in another, clinging to the remnants of his passing through the world but you missed him so much.

At times you felt like you couldn’t even breathe, you had even fallen asleep in front of his family grave after a long day if you went to visit at dawn after not being able to make it at morning but you had to visit him daily in order to feel in his company because if you ever thought of skipping a lump appeared in your chest crushing your heart.

Yet, even then, even when you realized it wasn’t Baji your heart would skip a bit and your stomach would twist.

Later that night you found yourself walking home with Kazutora by your side in complete but comfortable silence, feeling the warmth oozing from his arm that was left hanging at his side lightly brushing against yours, rising even the tiniest hair of your arm.

Kazutora had been going at it over and over for months. At first, when he realized what he felt for you he decided to bury it deep and forever carry it in silence but as time went on he craved your presence.

He started wishing for more, more smiles, those smiles to be only for him, he even found himself looking forward to getting hurt while playing with your cats because it meant that you would be cleaning up his hands and putting on a band-aid with the utmost care and attention even if they were the most insignificant scratches ever.

He liked having your attention, he liked that you replied to any message from him almost immediately; unless you were attending to a patient then you’d reply as soon as possible; he also liked how your eyes would get bigger whenever something amazed you or if you found something even remotely cute.

Your constant ramblings plagued his mind at every hour no matter if he was asleep. Hell, he even went to Baji’s grave to ask for permission to love you, even if he did so in silence he felt like he owed that much to his old friend because you were his girl after all.

Why did it have to be you? Why Baji’s? Why did you have to come into his life and be like the sun? You were too much for him, too perfect, too good while he was nothing but a mess, too fucked up, too far away from repair. For fuck’s sake, he was the one that took your boyfriend away, he would have been better off handling your hate but instead you were there giving him so much it almost pained him, only adding up to his guilt.

This had to be some sick game of the universe. God must have been having the time of his life laughing at how the killer fell in love with the victim’s old love.

Before any of you knew, you had already gotten home and like it became custom you invited him inside for a cup of tea.

As soon as you opened the door, your three babies rushed to the entryway to greet you, Jin being the very first, you hadn’t taken two steps inside when he was already brushing himself against your legs. The other two weren’t too far but to your disappointment Leo approached Kazutora before even looking at you.

“I’ll stop bringing you here, you’re stealing them away from me” you pouted while kneeling down to hug Jin who looked at Kazutora with no distaste, then you picked up Blue and let him nuzzle your neck, after that still holding him you went to rub Leo with your free hand once he finally took notice of you and remembered who bought him food and toys.

Kazutora’s hearty laugh filled your ears pulling your mouth from the pout into a smile.

“Leo knows who’s the cool one” he winked your way. “I’m kidding, he likes you more” he looked down at said cat “right pal? Isn’t your mom the absolute best?”

“Oh, shut up, flattery won’t take you anywhere” You felt blood rushing to your face so you stood up hiding your reddening face into Blue’s fur.

You hurried to the kitchen and then, out of his sight was when you put Blue down and started to boil some water, hearing over it as the door closed and seconds later Kazutora appeared with the other two trailing behind.

You ended up splayed on the bigger couch in your living room, your back leaning against his side while Jin laid on top of your legs while in Kazutora’s rested the other two cats. At that moment you were with your eyes closed, mindlessly caressing Jin while you listened to Kazutora talk to your cats in a baby voice that you wouldn’t have expected from him the first time you met.

For him it wasn’t easy to keep his cool, he had to school his face even if you weren’t looking at him and oh, his heart was so loud it was about to jump out of his chest and he wouldn’t mind but he didn’t want you to listen.

I’m sorry Baji.

A meow of protest fell on deaf ears since he had stopped caressing Leo and Blue, instead turning his full attention towards you.

You turned your head and suddenly you found yourself way too close to his face; so much you could’ve counted every single of his lashes; staring up at a pair of golden eyes that were looking at you and only you as if you had been the one to hang up the stars in the sky.

His features were delicate, so beautiful it was heartstopping, he looked almost otherworldly; and not only because the ghost of Baji’s face lingered in his in a particular way; but there was a certain glimmer in his eyes that you had been noticing from a few days leading to that one, only that then it shined brighter than ever.

Unbeknownst to you, your eyes were reflecting Kazutora’s shine and your heart was beating to the same tempo as his starting up a melody of their own with your breathing getting caught up in your lungs making up the rhythm accompanying your song.

You were being drawn into each other like opposite poles of a magnet, barely any resistance was there and soon enough you met in the middle. At first it was the softest brush; like when you first dip your toe before jumping into the water; but it started a whole revolution inside both.

The brush became a second and then your lips were pressing against each other, basking in the warmth that radiated off that single contact that sparked a bunch of reactions at the same time. Your heart went off, your lungs closed; forgetting for that moment that they needed air and not that man to keep kissing you; and for the briefest moment your mind stopped thinking about Baji.

Kazutora was ready to die, if he was sent to hell at that very moment he’d be glad because at least he got a taste of heaven and it was more than enough. He decided then and there that he was bound to be cursed because how did a monster like him manage to get a kiss from an angel such as yourself? It must have been a sin for something so tainted to even look your way.

He didn’t know when your hand placed itself on the side of his neck but he knew that he was yours, if there was any doubt of that up until that point, it vanished with the way you were gently caressing his tattoo as if you were tracing it by memory, as if you had paid close attention to him, as if he mattered, as if he was something more than a broken thing.

Something inside you moved when a whimper escaped his lips the first time you pulled away for a mere second in order to get air before going in once more, this time ready to open your mouth and let him take while you explored. It felt nice, new; which was to be expected since the last time you had kissed someone this way had been with Baji.

Keisuke.

You opened your eyes and suddenly pulled away, almost as if his touch burned you; and in a way it could be said to be true; and your violent movement startled the three cats that you had ignored moments before, making them leave for your room.

The image of your beloved; death; boyfriend took Kazutora’s place, brown replaced gold and the beauty mark vanished, the yellow strands that framed his face turned jet black and the smile you’d been missing like crazy; that particularly his that showed his teeth was there.

You blinked a few times and his image left, allowing you to see Kazutora for who he was and not the ghost of him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came to me” he looked at you with tears gathering in his eyes almost pleading and you realized how it must have looked to him.

“No, Tora, I-”

I’m an idiot, I blew this up. Again I’ve just gone and ruined what good I had.

“I’m going now” he stood up and left for the door, leaving you alone and cold on the couch.

I’m sorry Keisuke.

You stood up and went after, finding him in the doorway hastily putting on his shoes but you grasped his arm to stop him.

“I will leave right now, it’ll be like nothing happened” you caught a glimpse of a tear trailing down his cheek and that sight prompted you to speak.

“No” your other hand reached for the fabric of his shirt, securing him.

“Y/N”

“I don’t want you to leave, I-” the words choked you, there was too much you had to say and your mouth wasn’t responding as fast as you would’ve liked.

“Don’t ask me to stay because if you do it’ll only hurt more when you tell me it was a mistake”

“But it wasn’t a mistake, I want you, okay? Kazutora, I like you” you at least managed to say the one thing that was clear in your mind, that had been clear for a long time but only got accepted after that one conversation with Chifuyu.

That certainly stopped him, for he turned around to fully face you and you saw his eyes filled to the brim in tears that he refused to let run freely.

You reached for his face as slowly as the first time you two met, giving him enough space to retreat, but how could he when the thing he wanted most was to be with you and bask in the calm that your presence brought into his messy life? When he didn’t give any signs of pulling away you smiled and cupped his cheeks as if you were holding a piece of glass; and in a way Kazutora was just as fragile as that material when it came to you.

He leaned into your touch, and you were bold enough to pull him in and rest your foreheads together, looking with all seriousness into his eyes, having deja vu of the first day.

“Why? Why? I- what I did to Baji, you know what I’ve done, I don’t”

“I really can’t say, I just do, it’s, it’s hard, okay?” you closed your eyes for a brief second before continuing.

“I swore that there wouldn’t be anyone else and now, now you are here and I like being with you but I know that is way different from how it is with anyone else, it’s something more, something I never thought I’d be able to feel again”

He smiled through his tears because after all he’s done, every mistake in his life said that he didn’t deserve you and yet there you were.

“But I also have to be honest with you” he braced himself for what would be your next words.

“I still love Keisuke, I will probably still be loving him even fifty years from now and that is something that will never change, he was my first friend, first time holding hands, my first love, first kiss, many firsts, he took most of them” you gave out a wobbly smile.

“He’s forever imprinted in my skin and I’ll always be his” he lowered his gaze at that. “But if you can accept that I’m willing to try this, I never dated; not really, not an actual relationship; after him but I wouldn’t mind it being you, I think we deserve a chance”.

His heart was thumping inside his chest making it harder to process everything so you waited while his mind raced. Kazutora looked into your eyes and knew he had to take the chance because you were what he needed and even if he was undeserving you thought him worthy.

A selfish part of him, the bad side said that he should be glad because if Baji was there he knew you would have chosen him, a thousand times you’d have chosen Baji over Kazutora and that pained him but what pained him the most was the fact that a tiny part of him was happy because now he had the chance to be with you.

He was taking the life Baji should’ve had, but he’d take good care of you.

He could live being second best if that meant he got to have you.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers fanfiction #kazutora x reader #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora x you #kazutora x y/n #baji x reader #baji keisuke #fem reader #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #TR

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hyukmoon · 3 years

Text

moon. | l.sy x gn!reader

lee sangyeon x gn!reader

word count: about 4.01k

to put it short: congrats! Something you should actually say, right? Your best friend and crush is getting married in two days and you feel,... well, not very good about it. So, wait... he's returning the feelings? Damn.

content warning: ANGST in capital letters, I would add lots of exclamation points but im lazy. So yeah, hella angsty. Some good old making out, it's kind of heavy at some point but no smut at this point lol. I don't condone any of the done actions, so yeah, I would've personally handled everything differently, but you know, y/n is kinda wild. Very awkward sometimes, but that's more the situation in itself. ALSO, NOT PROOFREAD

taglist: @loki-in-hogwarts

note: the second thing i wrote and im somewhat excited!!! Yes! Exclamation points. So,... thanks for reading :)

It was a great day. Well, at least seemingly for everyone but you. Your best friend in this world Sangyeon was about to get married to the love of his life, who is notyou and now you just stand in the hotel lobby waiting for it to happen. Funnily enough, the crushing feeling of desperation and fear didn’t seem to set in yet.

The hotel lobby was filled to the brim with acquaintances and other guests possibly confused by the uproar of the wedding guests. So, who were you specifically waiting for? The rest of your friend group, the ones who will most likely clean up after the wedding whatever will be left of you.

A nervous smile swept up to your lips, casually just avoiding every sort of tension that could come across you. Just with the luck of this entire occurrence an older woman started to approach you, demon alike features spreading around her face almost like she knew you were apparently the only single person here. An aunty, that wasn’t even related to you but had all the business to judge.

“Are you here for the bride or the groom?”, her sweet voice rang a familiar feeling in your stomach. Almost too sweet, making you suspicious of her intent. “I’m here for my best friend, Sangyeon. So, yeah, for the groom.”, you hesitated a second, “What about you though? Do you know the bride?”

“She’s my youngest niece, the only one that still visits, her sisters don’t even care anymore…” You nodded politely, not wanting to anger her now and stepped towards a different direction.

“So, my dear, are you here with anybody?” You already feared that question, the same as always. The eyes of yours started with a panicked expression searching through the room a familiar pair. “No, I am here on my own. I kinda wanted to focus on getting Sangyeon through with it, being there for him.” As a friend.

Possibly this was the first part of feeling despair and fear. People at this wedding were really waiting for them to get married. They weren’t joking, this would change everything.

“Ah, I see. You know, get over him. Well, it is time for you at least, you’re not getting younger. There are quite few handsome men here. I remember the names Juyeon and ah yes! Kevin, get over here!” As far as you were concerned, your facial expression couldn’t possibly look more stunned than a moment ago, yet another one of your good friends appeared, seemingly just as confused.

This only held on for a good second, Kevin knew exactly what to do. “Oh hi, I’m so sorry to steal [Y/N] away from you, but I actually need to talk to them on my own over a gift we both prepared for the couple!”, he grinned at the lady, who was obviously smitten with him. “Yes, of course, hun. Take your time.” She finally hushed into a separate direction.

“So, how are we doing? You seem kinda… stressed.”

“You don’t say”, you sighed, “if I have to go through a conversation like this again today, believe me I’ll-. “

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I get the sentiment. Even though I meant more the other situation. Like in, Sangyeon getting married and you sitting here all grumpy because of it.”, Kevin was already aware of your “small” infatuation with your best friend, a man too far out of your reach also funnily enough, the man’s wedding you’re attending. However, your friend in front of you didn’t seem to mind talking about it out loud in a place like the hotel lobby. Your lips tightened up into a fine line.

“I’m not grumpy! I just…I don’t really know what to do. I mean, I know I’m going to be there for him but yeah, okay, I might feel a bit grumpy.” The lobby did clear up a lot now.

“Okay, oof. There’s this dinner with everyone in the evening today, do you think you can get through that?”, Kevin asked hesitantly just as stressed with this additional complication.

“I mean, I probably have to, don’t I? This makes me so sick, ugh. Not gonna lie, my stomach feels like a laundry machine.” You laughed quietly and drifted off again into a place where you didn’t need to think about this.

“What did you really expect though? You know I love you, respectfully, but like, this feels like an incredibly bad move to do.”

“Don’t you think it would be worse if I didn’t show up at all? I’ll just need to go through this weekend and I’m outta here. No one will know anything.” It might feel like a nightmare but at least a nightmare you can actually run away from and not actually have to face at some point.

“Well, I hope you’ll keep your confidence. Because imagine I saw the person, I love getting married to someone else. Oh my, believe me, you wouldn’t find me for the next three weeks.”

“Not very helpful, a good three out of ten. I guess, I’ll just stick to sulking around then.” A dead smile crept up your lips following a stern look from your side at your opposite.

“Seems like a good plan, just stick to me, maybe we will find someone to take your attention away from this, huh?” A sly grin was visible on Kev’s face.

“Ughhh, of course. Let’s do this. It can’t get much worse than that”, you cleared your throat, “thanks, though. You actually make this here somewhat bearable.”

“Awww, come on. We should pack out our suitcases.”

No one can really prepare someone for a moment like this. Most older folk turned into their hotel rooms which left you in a party like situation seeing your closest friends turning it up in a huge pavilion while the future groom sits comfortably on a velvety sofa hand in hand with his fiancée.

The air was quite warm even at this time of the evening, not humid, just warm enough for everyone to taste the end of this era with nostalgia and a slight feeling of energy to experience what’s to come afterwards.

You as well sat down, continuously processing your environment. With a cup of your favorite drink, you felt invincible, nothing able to shake you down.

Now while this wasn’t a preferred environment, this was manageable; you could look your best friend into his eyes and proudly congratulate him on his wedding. You would be able to get over this and continue to be a great friend. Black hair with an intense facial expression made its way into your viewpoint along with a somewhat tipsy Kevin. Simultaneously the lighter hair of your best friend fought his way through the crowd.

Lee Sangyeon, the man lighting up your mood with simple touch of his fingertips was now signalizing for you to head outside towards the veranda of the pavilion. He exuded patience, yet clearly waiting for a response of you. You nodded and brushed cautiously over your evening attire.

“Hii, [Y/N]! Can I introduce this someone to you? This is Juyeon, he might look a bit intense, but he’s really nice to talk to! So, I’m gone for a sec then!” Kevin started drifting off into a different direction where you stopped him in his tracks.

“Could this wait? Sangyeon needs to talk to me. I think it’s important, I’ll come back though in a bit!” You gifted both of them an apologetic face and made your way around the men towards the going to be groom.

Surely it wasn’t exactly clear why he wanted to speak to you, especially on his own. He was still waiting for you after all.

“[Y/N]! What has it been? Like three? Four months? I missed you so much.”, Sangyeon pulled you into his chest abruptly and sighed softly into your shoulder. Engulfed entirely in his figure you never wanted to wake up from this again. Was it now 10 seconds? 15 seconds? Neither he nor you really seemed to let go, taking in all the scents of his that were formerly familiar to you.

“Yeah, I think so. You were probably busy planning this all and I just had to work, I guess.” Trying to keep it short was your main goal, appearing distant maybe. He didn’t mind at all though. Not discouraged from continuing this conversation Sangyeon pointed at the veranda, showing the only speck of space with little to no crowd.

The veranda was close to closed off to the party. Non distinguishable palm trees in the far distance were playing right into your cards for not having to look into his eyes. Magnetically glowing, that’s how he appeared. All happy and smiley about the obvious luck he was experiencing. Now again, he sat down with you in the beach chairs without loosing a word.

“The palm trees are so pretty. You remember me wanting to buy some new plants?”, you tried to invite him to the conversation.

“You always want to buy new plants, which time do you mean?” Sangyeon grinned to himself. “You know what? It’s so weird. Everything feels still so unreal. This wedding, also you at my wedding… So weird.”

“I am literally your best friend, where else should I be? Your funeral? At home? Who else is going to charm the hotel staff for some free capri suns and new towels?” Your mouth crinkled up and you let out a soft laugh.

“[Y/N] … You know exactly what I mean!”

“Noo, not at all. I’m so confused right now, not gonna lie.” Your face finally moved towards his direction, seeing his gentle gaze resting on you.

“Do you remember when we were still in school, and we promised each other we would marry each other if we didn’t find anybody else?” His gaze got more intense with each sentence.

“Yeahh, kind of. I was probably tired and it’s like ten years ago. I’m not really sure what you’re trying to tell me.”

“I really thought I was going to marry you. For several years, actually.”, he laughed. “I had such a crush on you and then you met your s/o and all that. Ughh, it seemed so complicated back then. Kind of weird to think about what could have happened if I did ask you out or something.”

“True.”, you turned away again standing up and resting against the wooden railing of the pavilion. “But you didn’t so, let’s just drop it there.” The weather as well started rebelling a bit, the wind hugging your figure slightly too tight for your taste.

“Why are you so cold all of a sudden?”, he whispered closely behind you.

“Well, you’re getting married tomorrow. And you’re telling me about a crush you had on me?”, you croaked.

“I was just being nostalgic, I thought this would be fine with you.” Sangyeon appeared now next to you on the railing, waiting for you to face his concerned dark eyes.

“It isn’t for me. It just feels wrong.”

“What feels so wrong about it? It was a long time ago.”

It is here, the bitterness. Bitterness shouldn’t even be the correct term, the pain of your heart going into a slump didn’t feel like a fitting word. Being reminded again that you will never have a chance again.

“Wait or is it not a long time ago for you?”, The voice of his tried to word his next sentence very carefully.

“I went out with them because I thought you were joking. Then when I thought about you, it was always different. It was too late though, you met her.” Only the close ocean along with the wind were hearable, neither you nor he were able to form another thought put into a sentence.

“You could’ve told me. I would’ve-.”

“Broken up with her?”

“No, I-.”

“Then what could you have done?”, you interrupted Sangyeon’s rambling, trembling while speaking. Terribly spiteful with a bite that wasn’t too often dripping down your lips.

“This.” Sangyeon pressed a fluttery kiss against your lips. Slender fingers tapped onto the skin right under your chin, signalizing you to look at him.

The now much calmer atmosphere made you snake your arms around his torso. Heat rose towards your head, longing after a second out in the cold again just to see his lovely facial expression. Your lips broke off and touched once more in an almost hypnotic fashion.

His hot breath started sliding downwards your cheek to your neck, physically making you unable to resist his entrancing presence. Also his hands broached over from your face down to your waist, holding you with the lightest touch.

Sangyeon’s lips darted away from yours, catching you staring deeply into his eyes. The silence felt warm now as well, filled with the slow and recovering breath of the participants.

“[Y/N], I think I still feel that way.”, a rosy blush swept over the man’s face you wanted to hear say these things so many times and so long ago.

“No. No. No. You shouldn’t! I shouldn’t either! I have to go.” The reality of the situation caught up to you. This was bad. Incredibly bad. Still the disgusting feeling of hope within this made its way up to your head. Stinging alongside the feeling of remorse, you didn’t think clearly, especially now, next to him.

You darted in the fastest way possible from the pavilion up to the hotel to your room, leaving him there.

Today should be the final day. The hopes that already should have been buried a long time ago, crawled up again and clawed its way into your mind. What if he leaves her for you today? Like in those unrealistic rom coms. Yes, again, it was unrealistic.

Leaving her at the altar and running after you. While all those thoughts of hope and wishes came together you found yourself with a stomachache. His fiancée was an incredibly nice person, sweet and kind along with being a beauty. You shouldn’t even dare to think about Sangyeon that way anymore, she deserved a lot more. Quite honestly, you felt pathetic. Who were you to run into their possible future?

Just because of a simple brush over the lips, his eyes staring into yours like no one else existed but you and his soft hands delicately touching your waist. A tap on your shoulder put you out of your trance, “[Y/N]? Can you go up to Sangyeon’s room? He asked for you.” Kevin’s eyes glanced at you with uncertainty. Neither you nor he knew why he wanted to see you.

Even more importantly, why did he need to see you alone? This seemed like dangerous territory after, basically yesterday. Agony rose again, what if he really was going to leave her?

“Sure, I don’t know why he wants to see me again though.”, you said and left to see the groom’s room. You stumbled more and more over every step closer to the door of the man who’s going to rip your heart and air out of your lungs. The normally soft laid out carpet felt in this moment like you were stepping barefoot over glass. There was the door, brightly painted in eggshell paired with the digits of the hotel room.

Before you could reach the door to knock on it, light brown waves greeted your overtly surprised face.

“You clean up well.”, Sangyeon’s rang in your ears clearer than freshly hung-up laundry in your nose. His previously concerned face curled up into a faint smile.

“Same goes for you”, you tried your best to hide the very apparent frog in your throat, “So, why do you need me?”

“Just needed to see you before going out there, I guess.”, his voice got a lot quieter. It got silent.

Not sure if a said word was necessary, you plopped down on a small, velvety stool. Every whisper was to be heard. An otherness surrounded Sangyeon, like he wasn’t there anymore, and his thoughts took over his being. You scooted closer towards him, just wanting to see him up close for the last time like this, smelling his earthy cologne from this distance.

“Why are you doing this to me?”, your voice went close to hoarse after the question. He was just as silent as before. No sound, nothing. This torment of a weekend was supposed to end with no gratification, not feeling free from this feeling on your chest? Your hand slid over his, the most desperate attempt to get his attention while also experiencing his touch again. Sangyeon jerked his hand back and returned to his absent posture.

“Why do you want to hurt me like this? I am your best friend, and you use me like I’m nothing.” The lack of power you had now made you sink down to the beige teddy carpet. Small tears started swelling up in your nearly dry eyes, kind of contradictory, yet the more tear drops rolled down your cheeks the rottener and hollow you felt.

“You were my best friend until you-.”, he stopped midsentence, “made me feel things again I didn’t need, I didn’t want.” Also his face was wet, ridden with tears making his usually calm and cheerful persona look like a painful insult.

“You asked me here. It hurts, Sangyeon. I can’t make it stop hurting, I don’t know what to do”, you reached for him again, “Could I ever be enough for you?” He returned your former attempts to stroke your face. Cornering both of you, the air trapped you in the toxins of heartbreak and hopelessness.

Once again, Sangyeon’s hand glid over your soft skin and halted on your face. Glaringly staring into each other’s eyes, you were there again. The day before, yesterday. Close to baring the soul of each person present.

“[Y/N], it’s not about being enough. It never has been. I have made a commitment I already broke, I…I can’t do this”, he sighed, “you know I love her.”

“I thought you loved me as well.” Overwhelming nothingness overruled you, almost scaring you about this reaction. You weren’t crying, yelling nor having any physical reaction at all. It was convincingly numb; the resting hurt would come later. Sangyeon’s head dropped in the dip of your shoulder and neck.

This sort of closeness would never happen again. You feeling him breathing into you while having his comforting heartbeat close to yours.

“I do, but I can’t do this to her. I would never do this to her.”, he whispered into your shoulder. A sigh came from his side.

“Then, please. Kiss me, for the last time.” The last part of the sentence left a disgustingly bitter taste in your mouth. This was over, right? His head, which was formerly resting on your shoulder, drifted up and towards yours. Also his expression blank and hollow, like he didn’t know anything.

For the last time, his hands cupped your face in a comfortable manner. As always, he felt homely, but he surely wasn’t yours ever. Not even waiting a good second or two, the light brunette’s face came closer to yours. With no hesitation both of your lips touched tenderly, releasing every sort of affection that could be expressed at that second. You inhaled again his intoxicating scent, in the hopes of having him all over you. His now reddened lips moved closer towards your jawline making you gasp for air.

Also, you weren’t completely still, constantly shifting your hands up and down over his torso upwards his neck, desperately feeling everything, you can for the last time. Sangyeon’s locks tickled you softly while he suddenly latched his mouth onto your neck right below your ear.

“No. Please, I just want a kiss on my lips.”, you said lowly, closely resembling a whine afterwards. He complied pretty quickly, leaving you with no thought but him tickling your bottom lip with his warm tongue. With him being this fast, you didn’t want to keep him on his toes. Entirely engaged in this moment, hands surprised you again on your waist, wandering closer and closer under the blouse you were wearing. You moaned into the kiss, making him take the opportunity to maneuver his tongue into your mouth.

Similarly to you, he was also stunned for a short moment when you grabbed up onto some strands of hair. A sigh left his now plump lips, a need of fresh air arrived onto both of you. Yet this was short lived, his hands captured your chin and attached his lips again onto yours in a matter of mere seconds. A bell rang, close footsteps to be heard across the floor reminding you of the situation you were in.

“Why am doing this? I am so sorry.”, you broke off his lips and took a step backwards at the door.

“[Y/N], we both did this, and it won’t happen again. We just need some time without each other. I think it would be for the best if we don’t spend time together alone anymore.”

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing? I don’t know what to say. I-.”, His lips captured yours again fast with a lot more force behind his kiss.

A strong arm shut the about to be opened door again and hovered over your head. The other one caught grabbed your chin with an almost contradictory feeling to it, the lightest touch just to shove you into his direction. You sighed into his lips, waiting for him to commit with his tongue one more time. Buttery lips pressed against yours and clang inside your mouth. Fiercely did your tongues meet, ending with him sucking on yours. Wet cheeks batting against each other with no intent of separating, your movement still came to a halt.

“You know what? I hate this. I want you to be happy, then if it is with her, I will just y’know…go or uhm mind my business.”, you slurred the last part. It wasn’t really one of your most prideful moments. Still flushed with tears and embarrassment you dropped again against the room door.

“I ask for one condition though,” incredibly hearse was your voice after the crying and even more so because of your follow up, “I do not not want to see you for some time, I don’t want to have to see your face ever again.” Tears weren’t anymore swelling up in your eyes, they never seemed to stop running down with no chance of leaving this conversation with an ounce of self-respect and pride.

It wasn’t even really much of a problem to leave him behind for a bit, it most likely would be for the best anyway, yet while his words should only leave a small mark and feel like a ripped off band aid, you felt alone. A sense of loneliness crept stealthily into you leaving you with nothing but a severe feeling of dread.

“If that is what you want, I’ll respect that.” The room got quieter till you heard the last of his words: “Of course, I still want you in on my wedding though, you’re still my best friend.” Sangyeon’s usual soft and kind smile appeared on his face, seemingly reaching you an olive branch. The former assertiveness and confidence drained through the conversation; you were nothing but a wreck.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

The ceremony was beautiful. Fairy like flowers were hung all across the beach space, making the place more surreal than it was to begin with. Everything light with a hint of light green and an even lighter lavender tone. The air seemed to have evaporated all the tension and sadness from your face. All across the seats were relatives and friends sitting with a nervously happy face. Ironically, he really thought it was going to be you someday.

“You’re [Y/N], right? Everyone always tried to introduce me to you. Now we’re sitting next to each other at Sangyeon’s wedding together! I’m Juyeon by the way.”

#lee sangyeon x reader #sangyeon x reader #lee sangyeon #sangyeon #tbz #tbz fic #tbz angst #the boyz fic #the boyz #the boyz au #the boyz scenarios #sangyeon x you #sangyeon x y/n #the boyz x reader #sangyeon tbz #the boyz kevin #the boyz juyeon #moon kevin #lee juyeon

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missinghan · 4 years

Text

in the eye of heaven ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : unrequited love; dynasty au; fluffy angst

❖ word count : 7,4k.

❖ warning : mentions of blood, death & violence, no historical accuracy

❖ summary : when heartfelt takes over grief and jealousy, chan is willing to spend a lifetime waiting for you. if only you could do so much as acknowledging the yearning in his eyes.

❖ a/n : this fic’s spin-off with the same mc; set in an alternative universe where she didn’t reject jisung and became his queen.

❖ dedicated to @meiiyue : lau, know that i appreciate you more than you think, that you are loved because you’re so incredibly precious. you deserve the world and more! happy birthday queen ♡

one.

“Chan, I’m getting married soon.”

Chan looks away from the report in his hands, faint agony washes over the dark shade of his pupils, and his lips quiver ever so slightly. With a courageous inhale, he stares you down as the scroll in his hands tilt a fraction. Common senses kick him at the back of his head after a brief moment of eye contact.

He smiles lifelessly, voice tender, “That’s great. Congratulations.”

Oh good god, those were the most insincere words that have ever been blurted from his lips. And directed at the very person he adores the most too. His fingers clench at the edge of the piece of paper when you huff, inching closer to him. Chan feels his breath mingles in momentary surprise, his face mere inches from your delicate one.

You really should know the kind of effects you have on his fragile heart.

“You knew?” Your index finger pokes at his chest in slight annoyance, your brows furrowed.

He gulps, “What?” Then, his eyes proceed to narrow at you softly upon realizing that you might have run from Jisung’s private palace to here and that you must have been so excited about the news that you’ve forgotten your coat and sword. A gust of wind flies by, tousling your scent into thin air that lingers inside his lungs, suffocating him internally.

“Jisung told you he was going to propose, didn’t he?” you clarify your point. But Chan is only taking notice of the droplets sticking to your eyelashes, how your nose is a little red, and the area under your eyes is slightly swollen.

“No, he didn’t,” he shakes his head and contemplates if he should be looking away, uncertain whether his gaze holds pain more than fondness. His hand reaches out to wipe the dampness away from your eyes but freezes midway at the sudden pang in his chest. Then his smile falls with a hidden grimace, arm dropped to the side in sheer defeat.

You hum with your hands clasped behind your back, allowing him to breathe properly by pulling away. “How did you know then?”

“I just do. I knew it would happen.”

Yes. Indeed.

Chan always knew it would happen. He’s not a fool after all.

“Hmm, really? How come?”

Gaze falling back on the boring report in his hands, he quickly comes to realize that his undivided attention has been set elsewhere from the black ink letters and instead on your question. He almost bursts out laughing at it, if he dares to admit.

How could he not know?

Starting with Jisung—the crown prince, you—an orphan getting adopted by the general and him—the general’s very own son being childhood best friends. Although from an outsiders’ point of view, you and Chan should be nothing but mere, shallow servants to the royal. That didn’t work out because of the oh so lovely Han Jisung. Thus, his plan to distance himself from you at the get-go was also ruined by the aforementioned royal and his father.

Chan has been training with you for as long as he can remember to take your rightful positions as the protectors of the throne, setting the royal family’s safety as your top priority. Hence, spending an extended amount of time with each other is an easy, inevitable way for your friendship to blossom. Whether it’s him waking you up too early for practice or you getting caught by him for sneaking out late at night. There isn’t a single moment that Chan wasn’t there for you.

Oh, but then there comes Jisung.

Adding him to the equation makes Chan’s chest ache, sick dread gnawing at the pit of the stomach. However, he has never any sense of hatred toward the young royal. The prince was born on a starlit night, amid the remaining warmth from summer. Some say it became part of him, who he is. Chan saw that in him too—whenever coldness comes, he’s the warmth. He treats everyone with such grace as if he has all the time in the world for them, as if they really matter.

Of course, being a youngblood, Chan can’t possibly miss out on his mischievous and playful behavior. Jisung would always get the three of you into trouble. And Chan would always try to save him from his father’s scolding while you’d be taking care of his wounds—resulting from so much climbing and falling. In those moments, he can say that there’s no person who has ever held you in his eyes the way Jisung does.

The same way that Chan does.

“I just do,” he cracks a small smile, ruffling your hair and immediately earning himself a smack on the chest. He sets the scroll neatly to the side before slipping off his silk coat. You can only chuckle at his attentive gesture and let him drape the piece of clothing over your shoulders, the sleeves looming over your knuckles.

“Let’s go inside. This calls for a celebration. Just the three of us.”

You smile back. “Like we’ve always been?” And a swarm of butterflies comes to life inside his stomach.

“Like we’ve always been.”

two.

Minho is munching on a few lotus seeds, occasionally sipping his tea in a bored manner as he witnesses Chan’s distress unfold right before his eyes.

The younger’s eyes, wide with amusement and slight confusion as to why his friend is getting so worked up over something that you’ve said, stare the general’s son down in his bedroom. It only appears to Minho as another normal conversation between the two of you—the only difference is that you’re getting married to the crown prince. Chan has not told him, but his well-hidden feelings never go unnoticed to someone as detail-oriented as the royal physician.

“So…” he swallows the current bite before dragging his words. “Just the three of us. Like we’ve always been?” His voice imitates Chan’s with an underlying tone of mischief.

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose at that. “Ugh, how could I be so foolish and say that?”

“Ugh?” Minho nearly chokes on his drink, sets down his cup, and squints his eyes funnily at the elder, almost mockingly. “What’s wrong, Chan? Don’t you want the three of you to stay that way?”

“That’s the problem, we can’t stay that way. We can never,” Chan confesses with sorrow.

“It’s getting cold. Let’s head inside.”

You pull him by the sleeve of his robe. “Oh, Chan. One more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“Will you walk me down the aisle?”

It’s quite possible for him to have stopped listening to Minho’s nagging after that. Your question, just that single sentence on a loop inside the void of his blackout mind. Will you walk me down the aisle? Will you walk me down the aisle? Will you walk me— He forces down a tired breath, face buried in the palms of his hands with heavy dread.

“Are you certain about this?”

“More than ever.”

How could he possibly reject you when his eyes were focused all on you, head tilted and finding you still so close in a way that he’s afraid he might have forgotten how to breathe? How could he when his pinky instinctively was curled over your own as you made him accept your childish yet innocent, harmless vow?

“Anything for you then.”

“Promise?”

How can he ever reject you?

“Promise.”

“That...and promise me that we won’t change. Not for anything.”

Chan can still feel his lips quiver as the ghost of your words crawls upon his spine like an ugly reminder that his feelings, in fact, have always been unattended for.

“Promise.”

And that was the first time Chan has ever lied to you.

three.

“Chan! Are you seriously not going to get ready—“

Minho comes barging into Chan’s room with his voice loud enough to wake the entire west wing of the palace, hand aggressively sliding the paper-lined door open in a not necessarily graceful manner. The general’s son does not bother to answer his friend, preferring to maintain his slouching posture by the window and stares off into the lake surface grazed with dozens of lotuses.

He watches attentively as a delicate droplet glides down against the blush-colored petal, kisses the lake with poise before disappearing completely and leaving behind the most subtle amount of vibration.

“Don’t just sit there, you fool,” the younger stops for a moment and proceeds on with his scolding. “You’re getting your robe all wrinkled! The ceremony is starting in another hour!”

Chan did get ready. If he’s not mistaken, he must have been the earliest one to do so because sleep was out of the question for him last night. Conscience has never let him off the hook these past few days. Because he truly wants to be happy for you, like how a brother should. Because that is all he will ever be to you. A brother, or a childhood friend, or family, even. But when was the last time he’d gone to sleep without thinking about you?

“I don’t really care,” he says honestly with a muffled, sarcastic chuckle.

“But you’re walking her down the aisle.”

The particular statement draws an immediate reaction from the elder, his head snapping toward his friend and his eyes narrowed down into a glare. “I know that, Minho,” Chan clenches his jaw.

Minho straightens the fabric of his clothing before making eye contact with him. “Right, and you should know that your undeclared feelings for her must not interfere with one of the happiest moments in her life.”

“Shut it. Those words are giving me a headache.”

“What word? Undeclared feelings for her?”

Oh, Minho just pulled at another nerve right there.

With a hushed, pained hiss, Chan finally gets off the spot he’s been stubbornly seated on since the break of dawn. The twitching tugging at the tips of his fingers definitely isn’t being helpful. Then, he lets himself fall back onto his bed, drawing a loud grimace from Minho and finally choosing to acknowledge his hatred toward his own feelings. After all, there is nothing wrong with loving someone, but how one loves them.

“Chan. I understand. You’re in love with her. And she’s in love with Jisung. Not to mention, they’re getting married—“

“Shut-“

“No, you shut up!” Minho spats and shakes his shoulders harshly. “What’s so wrong with your feelings for her that you’re getting to this point of denial? So what if she doesn’t love you back? Are you going to choose the option of keeping on loving her or being a petty coward about it for the rest of your life?”

Lips pressed into a thin line, Chan feels like he’s about to collapse.

“That’s right. Be speechless and listen to me—“

Little do they know, standing behind the door is you, mouth dry and pupils shaking in hesitation. You’re oddly frustrated when it comes to something as simple as opening the door. Your hand squeezes at the wooden edge, breathing jagged at the thought of facing Chan as though you haven’t known him for your entire life. Reminding yourself that no matter what, Chan is still Chan, that he’ll never change for anything. He promised you, right?

With a deep breath, you slide the door open and peek your head inside. “Look what I got you!” you say, shaking the tiny box in your hands.

Chan abruptly shoots up from his bed the moment you fully step inside and shuts the door behind you. His heart melts for a fraction of a second, once again because of you, always been because of you. And because of you, the fear for his paradoxical love toward you gnaws at his chest, reminding him that it will never happen and that today is your special day.

“I thought the bride shouldn’t be running around like this on her big day.” Comes a blunt comment that makes Minho’s expression turn sour.

“Don’t listen to him. You look beautiful, Y/N,” the physician says with an awkward smirk before excusing himself from the scene. Silence fills up the air like an overflowed cup of wine, gripping at the vessels of your lungs.

You look at Chan, confused for a moment before staring down at yourself, completely oblivious about the wall that’s rapidly built up with his cold, hard feelings and he’s only able to allow himself a blank face. He knows one thing for sure that Chaeryeong—your handmaiden, won’t be the least happy knowing that the future queen of Goryeo is going around freely in her attire for the ceremony.

Dressed in the finest robes made with the softest of linen and most vibrant dye, delicately lined with gold, embroidered with dragons, phoenixes, flowers and tainted with red for the royal. Your hair is still let down loosely, easily lending Chan the information that you must have sneaked out while getting ready. A waft of your scent creeps up his nostrils when you take small steps toward his table, gingerly placing the tiny box down and opening it for him to see.

“Are you really going to complain about these?” you smile at him with your still-crystalline eyes. The same eyes that he can drown in the depth of their ocean for an eternity, the peak and end of his suffering all at the same time. He might as well surrender into that canvas full of stars and fall on buckling knees right now if you keep gazing at him that way.

Upon his unresponsive state, you simply shake your head. “Serves me right for trying to do something nice to you,” you pretend to roll your eyes jokingly, easing the clearly noticeable tension.

“My favorite childhood candies. You remembered,” Chan swallows the croaked sob that refuses to let loose inside his throat, lips cracking into a small grin. The tiny ray of hope in your orbs dies down like a blown-out candle; his intention is plain and clear—he wants to feel familiar with you again, he just isn’t capable.

You puff out your cheeks, and if it weren’t for how heavy the air is, Chan would have allowed himself to laugh a bit at how adorable you are. You find yourself less frustrated but rather defeated. You aren’t completely oblivious about how he feels, you just learn how to ignore it until he musters up enough courage to tell you himself.

You’re starting to doubt the fact that he would tell you anything. He used to, at least.

“Chan… you do know that I’m always here if you need someone to talk to, right?” you say with tiny steps toward him.

“Of course,” Chan replies, eyes cast downward so he won’t have to face you.

You suggest, a hand reaching out to touch his cold one. “So, do you have anything to tell me before Chaeryeong barges in?”

Chan flinches as the warmth of your fingers burns his skin and retracts immediately as though you’ve hurt him. You blink in disbelief. For a moment, anger scratches at the back of your throat and disintegrates the next, leaving you with guilt like a block of cement forcing the air out of your lungs. Because you feel selfish for even letting yourself be angry at him when he’s not in his best mood.

“No? Okay…” Sucking in a breath, you try to give him a small smile. “You’ll still walk me down the aisle, won’t you?”

“Yeah, I will.”

You pause by the door before angling your head at him briefly, “I’ve been thinking… There are two things I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“Go ahead. I’m all ears and all yours.” He ignores the sudden spike within the rhythm of his heartbeat and tries to suppress the strangled noise lingering between his vocal cords.

“Thank you.” Fists clenched at his sides, an impulsive statement threatens to spill from his lips at how shaky your voice is. “I’m sorry.”

Perhaps this is better than an inevitable heartbreak resulting from an inevitable rejection. Perhaps he should start learning how to unlove you.

four.

It catches Minho off guard when you approach him a few hours after dawn. During this certain period of time, you used to get yourself all huddled up at the East wing, attentively training soldiers with Chan. It is only recently (preferably after the wedding and your coronation) that he stops seeing you both together.

Scanning the ebony table full of herbs and substances that you have absolutely no knowledge of, your eyes dart around one last time to confirm that no one else is here. With a strong heave of breath, you allow yourself to take a seat across the royal physician, cautious not to knock anything over.

“Your Highness, my respects,” Minho stands up after a few seconds of processing the fact that you are now the queen of Goryeo.

He was so used to associating you with armors and blades that his brain finds it weird to see you dressed in such a delicate robe. Something’s changed, though he can’t decipher if it’s good or bad. Your eyes don’t look as lively as they were before, and the effort of putting on a firm front as the queen seems to be draining.

“Save it, I’m still not used to that,” you clasp your hands together neatly on your lap, fiddling with your fingers anxiously.

“Fine,” Minho breaks into the usual catlike smile that you’re all too familiar with. “You look...unwell. Are you okay?”

“No. I needed to ask you something, that’s all,” you shake your head. “I won’t be here for long.”

His expression turns crooked at the crack in your voice. A slight pout adores his lips, already guessing what’s bothering you and trying to come up with stories, or even whites lies to convince you that Chan does not hate you but at the same time not outright telling you that his stupidity is growing because he’s fallen head over heels for you.

“I’m not busy at the moment, do tell me.”

“Chan… has he been doing well? I haven’t seen him for weeks. Whenever I do try to meet up, he keeps pushing me away,” you voice sadly. “I know that ever since the wedding… things must have been hard for him. It’s taking a toll on me too. It hurts me to see him like this. He’s never been so out of reach, so.. illegible.”

You internally cringe at how selfish your words are. But Minho doesn’t take it that way and instead, smiles at you politely, “Chan… has not talked to you during these past few weeks? Despite you both being inside the palace? Not even once?” Only now do you notice that the corners of his lips are twitching, in anger, you dare to assume.

A small ‘no’ slips from your tired vocal cords.

Minho wants to scream into the unknown void about how ignorant his friend can be when it comes to love but suppresses the annoyance to the pit of his stomach. He’s in fact trying to console you very delicately. The only problem is his nonchalant look is straight-up sending your paranoia flying off the moon when your emotions are a clustered mess at the moment. You’re not the type to rant but you’re perpetually overwhelmed, letting the agitation get the best of you and ceasing your ability to speak normally.

“Well, isn’t he going to come hunting later tonight with you and His Majesty? Perhaps you can talk it out with him then?” Minho suggests, making a mental note for himself to whack some common senses into Chan later.

“I know,” you wave your hands. “It’s just that. I’ve missed him. Very much.”

The physician is about to reply but his mouth freezes midway when his gaze travels past your shoulders, catching a glimpse of the figure looming over yours, their eyes as cold as ice.

“Seriously?”

“Chan?” you flinch with a hand flying to your chest in surprise.

“Your Highness, the reason why we haven’t been able to meet up is that since you’re no longer part of the military regime, the amount of work is doubled up for me,” he says, not looking at you. “Who am I to make the queen of Goryeo do something as disgraceful as training soldiers?”

“Disgraceful? That was my duty—“

He nods sternly, “Your duty now is to stay by the king’s side.”

“I’ve always been by his side, and yours too! You know that, Chan,” you stand up in the fraction of a second, your sorrowful eyes trying to find his unresponsive ones.

“Oh, and forgive me for being blunt but why would you bring this up to Minho? I thought you trusted me?”

“I do trust you.” You ball your fists uncomfortably.

“Then why did you have to go to him?”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but your lips are sealed shut later, your mind screaming at him that you don’t like how he’s acting toward you. At the same time, it’s telling you that the root of the problem is you. It’s not like he doesn’t have a point, you really can’t blame him for being busy. You’re being nosy when you shouldn’t have. A queen shouldn’t be nosy in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper before walking away hurriedly, head hung low in shame.

In the distance, you can hear Minho yelling at Chan to hold you back. The conflict in his voice only shatters your heart, even more, the shards drawing red on your conscience. You don’t think you know who Chan is anymore. You feel suffocated to be within his presence.

“You bastard, what were you thinking?” he comments with a brief glare.

Chan protests dryly, eyes filled with exasperation, “You know nothing about us.”

Minho grows speechless for half a second before scoffing, “I take that back. What a tremendous idea. This is brilliant. It’s truly brilliant!”

“I know.”

five.

Jisung knows something was wrong when he couldn’t find you in your shared private palace. You were alone in the garden, cloudy eyes glued to the ground as your reclined figure rested on the rock bench in exhaustion. And when he finally came up to you, you broke down into a cluttered mess of incoherent sobs. It was heart-wrenching, life-threatening even. To him.

Oh, and Jisung is furious, he is absolutely furious.

Rain patters thickly against his umbrella, against the tiled roof of the pavilions and the cement of the courtyard. The ashy canvas that hovers all beings gets torn apart when lightning strikes right through it, thunder roaring in the distance. Everything perfectly resembles the hurricane that’s raging inside Chan’s rib cage.

“Bang Chan!”

Chan can recognize the voice in an instance. He can even pinpoint exactly why Jisung is here too. His hand which is resting comfortably on his sword loosens, dropping to the side as he contemplates whether he should turn around or ignore him and make a run for it. Talking to Jisung isn’t necessarily helpful for the mess inside his head right now. Not only does he not need to be reminded of you, but he also doesn’t need Jisung to lecture him about his ignorance when Minho already did plenty of times.

The clouds inside his head aren’t fading away as he would like them to so before he can come up with a reasonable solution, Jisung has already grabbed him by the collar and dragged him under a tiled canopy where no one is around. It’s already late into the night, no one should be around at this hour anyway. The only surprising factor is that Chan makes no effort to pull himself from Jisung’s grip when he’s fully capable.

“Your Majesty, you know you could have called for me in a less...violent manner,” he gathers himself, dropping the umbrella to smooth out his collar.

Jisung spats, rage tugging at the nerves on his creased forehead, “And you knew you could have not said those words to her! You knew there was another way to fix things!”

“I don’t see a point in trying to piece something back together when it’s already broken,” Chan momentarily rolls his eyes, voice filled with spite.

“If you’re broken, we can help you. But you being broken doesn’t mean you have to break Y/N too,” Jisung says sternly, his words clear and menacingly.

Chan’s heart involuntarily sinks in a beat. Even the slightest mention of your name makes him weak to his knees, urging him to dig himself a grave and hide in it for the rest of his life. When was the last time he ever spoke your name out loud?

“I’m doing it so I can protect her! To protect you!” His voice raises into what seems like a growl, slightly getting drowned out by the sudden roar of thunder in the background.

Jisung fully takes a moment to process his words, the disbelief flashing before his perplexed eyes makes Chan’s heart drop in shame for a mere second. The young king looks genuinely tired and baffled at his protest like he’s having a hard time coming up with an eloquent reply. Mad and defeated and irked.

“And she loves you,” he smiles at his friend. It’s genuine, it baffles Chan, not surprisingly.

He shakes his head in denial, “She does not—“

“She loves you very much.”

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

Through this thick darkness, Jisung can see right through Chan’s useless stone wall and pinpoint exactly why he’s been acting so irrationally. This isn’t about you becoming the queen. You were never the problem in the first place. But he feels bad for Chan at the same time because he finds something familiar about him, something that resonates within himself.

“I love her too! But I’m afraid! Alright? I’m so stupidly in love with her that I might as well ruin everything for you both.” Everything eventually bursts out of his lips in a rushed confession. Chan can no longer speak after that. He’s never felt more helpless.

A fang-like ray lights up inside Jisung’s round eyes. He gives Chan a rough shove on the shoulder, breath ragged in pure irritation and cynicism. “Shut it. You know nothing.”

Chan does just that. He keeps his lips sealed.

“Don’t pull her into your mess,” With every breath, Jisung consecutively points at his chest with an apologetic wash on his expression. “You’re the problem. Don��t you dare use your love for her as an excuse for your ignorant actions.”

A weak whisper. “I was hurting. Do you know how much it hurts me?”

“It’s supposed to hurt. It only hurts when you truly love someone.”

“It must be nice to have that person love you back then.”

That is the breaking point of Jisung’s patience. At that moment, water finally tips over the cup and overflows, rage getting cuts on Jisung’s edges. He reaches out and strikes a harsh punch. When his fist collides with the flesh on Chan’s cheekbone, he’s sent flying to the ground. The bitter aftertaste makes Chan want to laugh at how pathetic he must have sounded but his jaw is wired shut at the sting from the blow.

“Don’t ever show up in front of Y/N again,” Jisung snaps before turning on his back and striding away briskly.

six.

Jisung doesn’t know how to feel as he stands in front of the wooden door of a cabin after almost a year since the incident. Guilt, that might be what it is. Because Chan took his words more seriously than he could ever imagine and chose to lock himself away from you, deep in the forest like a lone wolf.

Get yourself together, he tells himself, Chan is still your friend.

“Your Majesty?” Seungmin—his personal guard calls out to him when he’s starting to zone out.

“I’m alright,” Jisung clears his throat before giving the door a firm series of knocks. Moments that seem like an eternity fly by and eventually, the door swings open. He wants to exhale out of relief when a familiar face comes into view.

“Minho, I swear—“ Chan freezes midway, taking in Jisung, Seungmin, and a few other guards he easily recognizes from the palace. His expression falls flat, his gaze darkens, and his hand slams the door shut without a word.

However, it gets stuck. Tonguing the inside of his cheek in annoyance, Chan averts his gaze downward and sees the tip of a leather boot. “Don’t be insufferable. We came for something important,” Seungmin says calmly but his eyes look like they’re about to set Chan on fire if he dares to try him.

“Fine.”

They all hear him murmur before letting go of the door, revealing the neat and cozy cabin inside. There’s a single bed, a fireplace, a slightly crooked table, and another door that leads to another room. Jisung sighs, a smile tugging at his lips upon seeing that Chan didn’t let himself go completely. The place is well cleaned, meaning he’s still strict with himself.

“Why are you here?”

Seungmin clicks his tongue at his rude remark, itching for his sword but Jisung outstretches an arm to hold him back. He allows himself a few inches away from Chan so he won’t grow uncomfortable before saying, “Yongbok is about to turn a month old. We were hoping you could come.”

Chan’s dull eyes light up at the mention of your son. He felt so foolish for running away into the woods when your letter arrived at his door a few weeks ago. He couldn’t be there like he used to when you’re the happiest. But does he have the right to be there for you after what he has done?

“I can’t,” he answers sadly, drumming thoughts clouding his mind as the guards start walking around his cabin mindlessly.

Jisung takes a step toward him, only for Chan to take another one away from his friend. “No, really, I insist,” he tries to convince him. He’s growing desperate when he sees what’s lying beneath those icy eyes. Chan is still hurting, he has never stopped since their last encounter. “Y/N wants you there with us.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t.”

“Chan, please,” Jisung insists further, and something inside Chan’s chest breaks a little more. The tension is hanging midair like a string on the verge of splintering.

He unknowingly snaps, “Get out.”

“She cares about you!”

“I know that!”

“No, you don’t,” Jisung barks back at and receives a mere glare from his friend. “If you knew, you wouldn’t have been here in the first place.”

Chan elects to ignore his words from now on, “I said, GET OUT!”

“Childe Bang,” Seungmin raises a brow. “Have some respect for the king. He’s taken his own time and effort to come all the way here from the palace. The least you can do is treat him like a friend.”

One of the guards speaks up suddenly, startling both Chan and Jisung, “Your Majesty. Don’t you think that he’s acting suspicious? If he’s really your and Her Highness’s childhood friend, what harm can be done if he attends the crown prince’s full-month celebration?”

Jisung can’t help but frowns, confused. “What are you implying?”

“What I’m trying to say is that he shouldn’t be fussing over something like this if he still sees you as a friend. Unless..., he’s hiding something from you?”

Chan chuckles sarcastically, far too tired to be irked at such false accusations, “Oh, and what can that be?”

The cabin feels significantly cooler now. Gaze darting all over the place, something shiny catches Jisung’s attention. His eyes grow alarmed.

“You and the queen herself may speak of your wrongdoings in court!”

The young king’s heart thrashes inside his restrictive rib cage as he yells out Chan’s name before his feet take off running toward his friend. Those mere moments are played in slow motion as Jisung grabs Chan by the blades of his shoulders and pulls him away, alternating their initial positions. With a grimace, he braces himself as pain rips through him all at once. He looks down, and with a sigh of defeat, a blade is plunged right through his chest. A weak whimper gushes out of his lips with blood when the weapon is pulled away from his body viciously.

“Your Majesty!” Seungmin gasps in panic when his lifeless body drops to the ground like a ragged doll. After moments of sheer panic, he gathers himself before commanding, “Tie him down!”

Chan scrambles to his feet and his senses come back to him, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach when he feels Jisung’s body limp against his own. “Jisung…?” His eyes grow stingy.

“Chan, come back to Manwoldae with me.” With the little amount of strength he has left, Jisung smiles, “Do it for Y/N. She’s still...waiting for you...”

At that, Chan nods like a madman, squeezing his friend’s cold hand as if it’s the only thing that keeps him from going insane. “I will go back with you, just don’t die on me like this! Please!”

Jisung doesn’t reply.

His hands are sticky with blood. So much blood. So dark, and red, and it reeks of guilt. It’s too much. It’s all too much. It all happened too fast.

His eyes water, vision blinded with crimson as his gaze rolls around the room and lays still on the slaughter. Fire flickers and sears through his veins, breaths mingling. Chan goes up to the man who is on his knees, his hands bound behind his back tightly.

“Why did you kill him?! Did you know who you’ve just killed?! Why did you kill Han Jisung?!”

He reaches for his neck and squeezes, threatening to crush his windpipe completely. The culprit isn’t able to answer when Chan cries out, choking on air as he desperately claws at his hands for some sort of relief. With every heaved breath, his grip ruthlessly grows a fraction tighter.

“Now that you’ve killed him… What is Y/N supposed to do?!”

“What is their son supposed to do?!”

“What am I supposed to do?!”

Seungmin places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “That’s enough,” he speaks. The guard is as shocked as Chan either way. His head is all over the place right now, he didn’t expect someone to send a spy their way like this. “It’s done. You’ve killed him. You can stop now.”

Chan inhales sharply before removing his grip. The slaughter falls to the ground in an awkward position. Dead. He turns his head toward Jisung instead, an urge to tear his own heart out of his chest is scratching against his eardrums. His friend’s blood is still turning cold on his cheeks, leaving a bitter taste with the droplets that are about to burst from his eyes. It burns, it hurts so bad. Chan might as well run his sword through himself already because how can he possibly face you after this?

He stumbles over, falls to his knees, and lets his tears fall freely. The laughter of self-mockery ripples through his muscles, shakes his body, and resonates inside his skull. Jisung is dead. But why does he feel so demised inside?

Can someone tell me what I should do now... Please… what should I do?

seven.

Several hours later, Seungmin kneels outside your private palace, suppressing his features from being contorted in pain as Chan’s cries of agony pierce right through him. A deserving price and punishment await the culprit for they have committed the most unforgivable of sins—murdering the king and queen of Goryeo.

Behind the paper-lined door, Chan is caressing your cheekbone softly in hopes of you waking up and looking at him once again. You can’t. Shaking relentlessly, his hands scarlet and sticky with the blood of the two people he cares about most. There comes the exquisite pain of loss that kills him in a way nothing else can. Like his heart has been pulled from his body yet it’s still beating at the same time. Yet it is proof that he’s hurting, the proof for his love, is it not?

Jisung, it hurts. It hurts so much… Why does it have to hurt so bad?

It’s supposed to hurt.

The tears have stopped for long. But your blood flows thickly over his fingers, cold. You must have gone some time ago. None of this would have happened if he could just push his prideful ego aside and listen to Jisung. None of this would have happened if he was selfless enough to let you go if he loved you enough to let you be happy.

If you don’t sacrifice for what you want, what you want will be the sacrifice, they say.

The room is dark, reeks of bloodshed and torment. With the soft candlelight flickering, the allure is cradling Chan in its stiff, emotionless arms.

In loss, the seven stages of grief come as a road full of shards that can only travel upon bare soles and never leave your guts. So Chan lets the pain consume him before it becomes poisonous. In quiet moments, it chokes the breath from his body and makes his mind go haywire. What was once whole is now shattered without mercy, where once was love is an emptiness, echoes a love he used to put everything into. With time, the edges of the shards get duller and he eventually finds some sort of relief.

“Didn’t you say that you wanted me here? At least… look at me. I’m right here… can you not look at me..?”

Silence.

You’ve gone too far into the mist of the tallest mountains to come back to him now, deep into the horizons, above the clouds of the canvas that drapes itself over all beings. He would sell his soul to the most feral demons within the nine tiers of the ruinous abyss if it could bring back the warmth of your cheeks. But no elixir can bring back the sweetness of your smile, the innocence in your eyes, or the sound of your laughter. Not even a favor from the gods above can possibly turn back time and give Chan a second chance to redeem himself.

He was waiting far too long for his inner turmoil to fade away that he’s utterly oblivious about your own storm. It’s funny how you both can easily do the same thing. Meanwhile, you’re waiting for Chan to come back, to ask for your help, he’s only focusing on his own pain.

“You’ve been waiting for me this whole time,” he murmurs into your hair lifelessly. “How could I be so foolish? Why can’t I just give up on my damned pride for once and listen to Jisung?”

Despair numbs his spine, bloodshot eyes staring off into space as he gently rocks you back and forth. His body shudders unknowingly, like crimson is dripping from his innards, every breath being knocked right out of his chest ruthlessly. “I never knew...if I was doing the right thing. You said you would always be there for me, yet I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. I never cared!”

“Jisung was right, I never knew how much you cared. I never knew about your suffering or your pain. I never asked if you were happy that we’d turned out this way.”

One last tear silently rolls down on his face, for he—someone who cared so little is undeserving of your love. Because of him, no one gets the happiness that they deserve.

At the end of the day, the real slaughter is him. The most tainted soul of all belongs to him. The greatest sinner at the end of the line is him. Forever will Chan be trapped in the moment of having his hands stained with your blood. The scars he’s embedded in himself shall not go away until the end of this lifetime. And a day shall not pass in vain if his heart does not ache for you and Jisung.

Chan hopes that the sky is pretty and full of stars, wherever you two are right now.

eight.

“Mother...,” Yongbok picks up a doll, giggling to himself before averting his gaze to the other one in his hand. “Father...”

His shoulders slump with a familiar weight, sadness washing over the pureness of his eyes. “...and Yongbokie.”

People often ask him how it feels to be an orphan. Truth is, he does not know. He only ever wanted to ask them what it feels like to have a family.

With a huff of annoyance, the young prince tosses his doll away. His murmurs go unnoticed even to himself when he buries his face into his knees, blinking back the wetness upon his lashes. Oh, how he yearns the nagging of a father and the gentleness of a mother that his peers often take for granted.

His head perks up the moment he feels another presence beside him.

“...who are you?”

That’s when he sees, with his starry eyes, a figure taking their seat with him, right in front of his dead parents’ portrait.

The wind caresses water delicately, leaves rustling like hushed whispers in awe of the precious crown prince. The stranger freezes momentarily before him, utterly awestruck. It’s been almost ten years since he’s come back to Manwoldae. Yongbok has grown into his features more now. From the still-crystalline eyes that he adores the most, to the cute button nose and chubby cheeks. He’s beautiful.

You grew up so fast. His heart clenches.

“Hmm, me?” Chan rubs his chin in a playful manner. “I’m your uncle.”

Yongbok’s face lights up at that. “Uncle?”

A breathless chuckle. “That’s uncle Chan for you, Your Highness.”

“Uncle Chan,” the young prince calls out to him, making his heart dance. “Have you ever met my parents before?”

At this very moment, Chan knows he wouldn’t want to let this bundle of joy into the cruel world out there. His innocence reminds him of affection and bond, things that the callousness in his heart has long abandoned. He’s as vulnerable as a single snowflake, one wrong touch and he might just disappear forever. If Chan allows this little ray of light to venture into his pitch-black night, he might as well detest his very own existence.

“Of course, I have.”

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“They told me that… my mother was a bad person,” Yongbok shifts his gaze downward, teary-eyed.

Chan only shakes his head, a gentle hand ruffling his soft locks of hair. “Yongbok, ignore them,” he says. “Your mother was strong and very kind-hearted.”

“And my father?”

The smile on Yongbok’s face doesn’t last long before a small pout forms on his lips. He looks discouraged. As though he’s been keeping a lot of things to himself without any condolences from others. Because no one feels like they have the right to empathize with the crown prince of Goryeo about his parents’ tragic death. But if Chan is holding the entire world in one hand and him in the other, he won’t waste a single heartbeat to take him.

“Uncle, are you okay?” Yongbok’s small voice snaps him out of it.

“Huh, what-“

Chan flinches slightly when his nephew rises to his feet, reaches up, and attempts to messily wipe his cheeks with his tiny hand. Hot tears have been trickling down his face unknowingly, his lashes heavy with droplets. He wants to slap himself back to reality—he shouldn’t be crying, he can’t cry in front of Yongbok. Not because Chan wants to protect the innocent glint within his eyes, but because he’s the only one who needs to go through this agony.

With a long inhale, he pulls himself away from his nephew’s clumsy grip. Both hands on his shoulders, Chan wipes his tears with the back of his hands before pulling the young prince into his arms.

“...your father loved your mother, very much so.”

Jisung did love you. More than Chan ever could.

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Note

Hello. Your writing is very capturing. I spent last night on reading all your stuff and here I am, in your ask box. Especially the illiterate!Geralt is a good read. I saw a few hc about the witchers being unsettled by Jaskier being well... Jaskier and with no fear approach them and talk to them. After a while they started wondering if Jaskier is a human, but they can't smell magic on him. What he really is? How he managed to fool a witcher?

Welcome to my ask box Nonnie, it is a delight to have you here! Even better, you bring a prompt that has my little heart singing because writing about Jaskier and all the witchers is something I am rapidly falling in love with. So thank you, you have truly made my day.

While the continent was big, it was still rather limited in terms of numbers of contracts. So it was only natural that from time to time Geralt bumped into a fellow witcher. Sometimes he got there first, other times there was only a drink at a tavern to be had and maybe some quiet company if it was a fellow wolf he encountered. The perk of having Jaskier alongside him was that even if he missed out on a contract, Jaskier could earn their keep and food if coin was short. So there was no longer a vicious competition between him and other witchers which was such a nice change of pace. There was no worry that if he got to a contract late, he would have to spend the next however many nights in the woods and hunting for food because he couldn’t afford a meal at a tavern.

Sometimes Geralt would still be in the stable with Roach while Jaskier went ahead to get them a room and some food. Which was how Geralt walked into the inn and frowned when Jaskier wasn’t visible at the bar. Looking around, he wasn’t too difficult to spot, sitting opposite...Eskel?! Pleasant surprise flooded Geralt at the sight of a fellow wolf and he walked over. Already, Jaskier seemed to have made a new friend in the form of the other witcher and was chattering away, demanding details from a fight. He even looked horrified when he spotted the bloody bandage peeking out from under Eskel’s sleeve.

“Oh you poor thing,” Jaskier was reaching for Eskel’s arm without any hesitation and Geralt saw the surprise from the other witcher. Hell, he could even smell the suspicion and confusion coming off him.

“Maybe this would be better done in a room than where people might be trying to enjoy some food,” Geralt suggested. “Not everyone can eat after seeing a bloody arm.”

“Yes! Have a bath called up for us, would you?” Jaskier looked at Geralt with a smile before turning back to Eskel and guiding him up atairs. “And don’t forget to have dinner brought up too!”

By the time Geralt got to the room, Jaskier had gently bullied Eskel into showing the wyvern bite to him and was fussing over it. Above Jaskier’s head, Eskel sought out Geralt’s gaze with confusion.

Later that night, Geralt had a rather interesting conversation with Eskel, mostly consisting of “he doesn’t even smell of fear” to which the only reply was “he never did”.

They parted ways and Jaskier made sure Eskel had plenty of supplies and coin, sharing what he could of his own despite protestations.

Funnily enough, Lambert was next. Once again, Geralt had been preoccupied, this time he was sharpening his swords when the music died down sooner than expected. However, there was no sound of fighting or arguing so obviously Jaskier hadn’t gotten himself into trouble. Yet. When he didn’t go upstairs to their room, Geralt decided to venture down to make sure nothing untoward was happening. Like that time Jaskier had convinced the whole tavern to play some kind of strip card game that Geralt still didn’t understand and, quite frankly, didn’t really want to either.

The sight that greeted Geralt was both better and worse than anything he could have anticipated. Jaskier was in the corner, sitting at a table and opposite him was Lambert. Who was pressed up against the wall like a cornered cat and staring at Jaskier in horror and disgust while the bard talked his ear off. He seemed to be utterly oblivious to the fact Lambert looked ready to bolt.

“Lambert,” Geralt greeted and there was a visible drop in anxieties.

“Geralt. This is-”

“Jaskier, I know. He’s with me.” Turning to Jaskier, Geralt pulled his coin pouch out. “Charm the barkeep into three strong ales, would you?”

As soon as Jaskier was away from the table, Lambert was leaning closer.

“What the hell is wrong with him? He just walked up to the table, sat down and started talking! He does realise we’re witchers, right?” He gestured towards Jaskier’s back. Geralt’s sigh of “yes” didn’t seem to help. Lambert ranted on. “I can do monsters, creatures and spirits. But whatever that is, it’s not human and it scares the shit out of me. Not even an whiff of fear or hesitation.”

“It’s just Jaskier. He’s friendly.” Geralt shrugged. He’d been there, the confusion and distrust at the absolute lack of any negative reaction from Jaskier. But he’d grown used to it.

“You keep the contract, I’m skipping out.” Lambert made to move and got almost to the door when Jaskier got back to the table and called his name. Like a dog caught stealing a sausage, Lambert slunk back sheepishly. At least he got ale out of it even if he had to sit through the most terrifying conversation of his life. Jaskier could talk, he’d give him that.

By morning, Lambert was gone and Jaskier pouted at the fact he couldn’t bid farewell to his newest friend properly.

Last but not least was Vesemir who they encountered on a dusty road between nameless towns.

“I’ve heard of you,” he told Jaskier who had been prancing around as he played his newest song. It had been stuck in his head for days, taking shape and now he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Alas I have not been granted similar privileges. Please forgive me, darling grey wolf. I am ignorant not through lack of interest but rather lack of sources.” Jaskier cast Geralt a side glance.

He was treated to a long, hard look by Vesemir who also took a subtle sniff of the air as he took a step closer to Jaskier. “They were right.”

Who the mysterious “they” were and what they were right about was a mystery to Jaskier but he wasn’t going to get answers because Vesemir nodded at them. “See you for the winter.”

As he turned to continue his path, Jaskier shouted after him. “Just a small token for our brief yet passionate meeting!” With that, he presented Vesemir a handkerchief in a flourish. Once again, the old witcher’s eyes drifted to Geralt before taking the offering, tucking it into his armour and turning with a nod.

“So, where are we going for winter?” Jaskier asked, hopping a lttle to catch back up with Geralt.

Kaer Morhen. That was the answer and Jaskier excitedly bustled through the doors. He and Geralt got set up in a room before making their way down to the others.

“Friends!” Jaskier yelled, arms in the air as he took in the three familiar witchers. “It is so good to see you again.”

He went around to hug all the witchers to varying degrees of success. While Eskel returned the hug with a small, entertained smile, Lambert was doing his best impression of a terrified statue. For his part, Vesemir accepted the hug but wasn’t too enthused by it.

Witchers didn’t need to sleep a lot so it wasn’t all that unusual for them to gather around a fire and talk late into the night. At first, Jaskier had tried to keep up but he needed sleep and often ended up fast asleep in Geralt’s lap while the others talked.

“I’ve never met anyone like him.” Eskel nodded towards Jaskier’s sleeping form.

“Not natural,” Lambert added. He had been doing his best to keep out the way as much as possible.

Even Vesemir weighed in, “He’s certainly a rarity. There’s no magic around him. No stench of enchantment or even the scent of a beast.”

“He’s plain old human,” Geralt said. “And just seems to have no concept of self-preservation around others. But trust me, he does feel fear.”

Which was how they ended up trying to find out what did elicit a response from Jaskier. Lambert’s idea of drinking a potion and wandering around with black eyes and veins backfired somewhat when Jaskier got ready to trek out with him to the fight he was no doubt preparing for.

Inviting Jaskier to train and spar hadn’t worked out either. No matter how much Eskel threw him around, disarmed him in more and more brutal ways and held swords to his throat, not once did Jaskier ever smell anything but tired.

Nobody was prepared for the ear splitting shriek one morning. It was definitely Jaskier but he hit a pitch even Geralt was stunned by. They all went rushing to the bathroom to see what had happened. Bursting in, Jaskier was standing in the tub, suds sliding off his head and clutching a cloth to himself while Vesemir looked just as stunned, holding a basket of laundry.

“What happened?” Eskel asked.

“I was merely here to hang up some clean clothes,” Vesemir replied.

“There I was,” Jaskier’s voice was still breathy with fright, “taking a nice bath and washing. Only to turn around and he was there. I’m putting a bell on you!”

The air was sour with his calming fear and, oddly, it seemed to settle the witchers. No longer was Jaskier some ethereal being without a single thing in the world that could scare him. From then on, both Lambert and Eskel seemed to take great delight in sneaking up on Jaskier and trying to scare him. There was something so soothing about knowing Jaskier could still be frightened to the point of outraged screeching. Especially when he cottoned on to the game and, once he was over the initial panic, he chased after the culprit until he could jump on their backs, smacking them playfully over the head until Geralt prised him off.

Even Lambert seemed a little more comfortable now that he knew Jaskier wasn’t infallible. By the end of winter, he was unofficially crowned winner of scaring Jaskier the most. Not that it was ever a race between him and Eskel. They absolutely didn’t have a tally hidden in the library with bonus points awarded for exceptionally memorable screams.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #vesemir #witcher wolf pack #tldr: jaskier isn't scared of witchers

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royadventures · 3 years

Text

march 27th, 2022--8:28am and fighting the remains of loneliness from new year

previous log

hello, good morning ^-^ well, maybe not good. maybe just morning.

yesterday on march 26th, i was in my cramped room until 2pm, when T and i left to go to the space filled with you, a cafe where you write a letter to your future self and they mail it to you a year later on the date you choose.

i cleaned my desk and chair yesterday and felt kind of strange. i can't stay in the house for long and have to leave for some air; i think that's why.

nonetheless, i reorganized my shelves a bit too! always trying to make my small room look/feel more homey >_< (apologies for poor camera quality)

anyways, the café was right across a historical palace. T and i plan to go to the palaces when the weather gets a bit better !

everything was pricey because it was vegan, there will a lot of stairs, no elevator (poor accessibility), it was a tight space/squeeze everywhere, but other than that, it was a lovely experience for someone who likes writing letters and things that involve self-reflection ^-^

i think i just didn't have the grandest time because there were 8 of us, everyone else was very cis woman and southeast asian while i'm this big old nonbinary persian sitting there in my hoodie and jeans while everyone is decked out in makeup and miniskirts. i felt very out of place and uncomfortable, but hey. i think i really confirmed the fact that i am nonbinary through that >_<

after that, i headed to anam (station near my university) to meet my buddy (ku student that i was matched with) and some other people in our buddy group to go to a hotspot bar. it was loud, but we had been warned about this, and yet it was the right type of loud. almost everyone was a ku student. they all did drinking games loudly and with a passion.

one thing that was unique to this bar, since it was full of ku students, was that someone at a table would stand up to introduce themselves and everyone else in the bar would respond. it was like a call and response/a certain type of chant?

in korean, the person shouts and says that they're going to introduce themselves and we all respond with cheers. they state their major and name, syllable by syllable, and we repeat their name back to them.

some people had lost their voices but still did it, it was very wholesome!

we also tried a few games, it was fun!!

i tried some makgeolli (rice wine), but it was flavoured. i tried peanut and corn--peanut was my favourite! it was quite strong and i resorted to water as soon as i felt myself having enough of it ^-^ my buddy, despite being strong at drinking, never forced us to drink at all. it was a very loving environment!

funnily enough, one of the people in my buddy group i had actually met at the noldam café earlier that day. she was a friend of T's friend and we laughed when we both saw each other.

the songs being played in the bar were super iconic, like svt's rock with you and mino+zico's okey dokey. people would sing along together.

after this, we went to selfpix, a new photobooth in anam, to create paper memories! t'was v fun n wholesome. that's when we all parted ways and i got this empty feeling in the pit of my stomach again. so, i got off a stop early and went to my usual 노래방 place. i messed up and lost a bit of my money because i chose songs i didn't like by accident and had to cancel them, but i still had a blast! i sang orange and will be, as usual, and scored 90s ^-^

on my walk home from there, the loneliness was getting even harder to bear and i felt myself tearing up. my cousin didn't answer my call, neither did my parents (but they were working!!) and my friends were all asleep, about to sleep, tired, or mentally not well.

i think this is all part of this experience too, though.

when you move away, you have to accept the good with the bad. you can't have people there for you whenever you want/need them, even though sometimes it seems like T has all her friends lined up and waiting to call her :< but i don't want to compare myself to her. you need to learn to cope on your own.

i bought myself ice cream from the convenience store to cheer myself up. seems like emotional support ice cream is a norm for me, now. well, it tasted good! ^3^

today, march 27th, T and i are supposed to go to a café to study. apparently one of her clubbing friends got covid. i don't even know anymore. it might have to be another solo day. whatever..

verivery had a comeback ! i just got to listen to it now. i like it :") it's less intense than the recent comebacks they've been having but also not like their old stuff. it's a unique sound for them. i'm just ecstatic that they're back after so long!

have a good day or night, wherever/whenever you are <3

next log

#royart gallery #royalog #in korea #27.03.22 #Spotify

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ateezmakemeweep · 5 years

Text

the 5 times you want mingi to stay + the 1 time he does

fuckbuddy!au

word count: 14k

angst, fluff, smut

funnily enough, the arrangement started on valentine's day.

you and mingi both happened to be at a bar with your friends that night, your separate groups wallowing in self pity in the form of overpriced tequila and body-shots.

meanwhile the both of you sat just two stools away from each other, miserable not because of your relationship status but from the company that came with alcohol and obnoxious, drunken rambles.

those drunk ramblings were, in fact, what sparked everything.

"y/n," your friend had loudly whined, breath reeking of liquor, "it's valentine's day, it's the peeeeerfect day to finally get yourself laid!"

"shhh!" you said, putting your hand over her mouth, "i'd rather the entire bar not hear about my lack of a sex life, if you wouldn't mind."

"oh ple-ease, they can just smell the pent up sexual frustration on you," she said and your cheeks flamed red. you didn't even have any time to chastise her before she sauntered over to the tall, dark-haired boy a few seats away and started talking animatedly.

mingi was minding his own business when a girl stumbled up to him, her slurred words telling him that she had a friend who was very much so in much need of a "valentine's day fuck" and he would've laughed if she didn't point you out, looking so embarrassed and shy and ready to bolt.

girls had been coming up to him all night, batting their eyelashes and offering him drinks while he all but sneered at them before they finally got the hint and fucked off.

but you. he liked the pureness, liked that you looked like you didn't belong here and especially liked that maybe you could be his distraction tonight.

and a distraction you were. you two talked for the four hours your friends stayed at the bar and got inebriated, two of them coincidently hooking up in the bathroom and then getting an uber home together.

you discussed everything and nothing, talking and laughing and smiling the entire time.

he played the nice boy for most of the night, told you about how hard he works at his job, how his friends could be obnoxious assholes but he loves them like family, how he secretly enjoys just lounging around the house and watching movies.

he also seemed interested in you, asking about your interests and schooling and childhood and it really seemed as if he was intrigued, watching you talk with soft, attentive eyes and a pretty, contagious laugh.

(of course he failed to tell you how easily he moved on from girl to girl, straight up about his intentions but kissing and licking and fucking every part of them so well that they were always left begging for more).

when you saw your friends were winding down towards the end of the night, getting a last round of waters and calling for ubers, you swallowed the nervous knot in your throat and asked him for his number.

you knew you shouldn't have, knew he was actually bad news by the way his eyes would occasionally roam over you, how his tongue would slowly lick his lips when he watched you speak and how he so openly joked that he would take your friend's offer in a second if you were willing.

you also knew, positively knew, you shouldn't have when he took your face in his giant hand and mumbled, "you had me on my best behavior tonight, y/n. but any other night... you should know i only answer for one thing."

and when those words left his mouth, something burned deep inside you. something longing and yearning and enticed enough for you to smile up at him and put your number in his outreached phone.

he smirked at you before standing up, leaning over to place a peck on your cheek.

"hope to hear from you soon, little one," he said before gathering his herd of loud friends and heading out the door without a single glance back.

1. 03/04/19

the first time you texted mingi, you feared he wouldn't remember who you were nor recall the offer your friend so graciously handed to him on valentine's day that served as your lousy opening message.

but to your surprise, and utter delight, he did. even answered with a short response of:

about time, y/n. address?

he walked in your apartment a few hours later looking just as attractive and tall as you remembered. you already felt your heart start to race and palms start to sweat but you wanted this.

you hadn't been able to stop thinking about much you wanted him, hadn't been able to get his face or his voice or his entire being out of your mind since valentine's day.

and so you finally caved. after one particularly rough week of drama with friends, stressful school work and, frankly, just getting tired of the burning in your core, you texted him.

you guys were making out on your couch, the movie now just noise in the background when his hand slipped under your t-shirt. he hummed against your lips at your bare chest, skin soft and warm and inviting.

"no bra?" he mumbles in your ear, voice deep and teasing, "you were just waiting here all ready for me, weren't you?"

his thumb brushes over your nipple and you bite into your lower lip, a strangled moan slipping out that has his cock hardening in his pants.

"a moan just from that, baby? when was the last time you were fucked, huh?"

he feels you stiffen underneath him and he pulls back immediately, hand still resting on you while he looks down at you questioningly. he sees the hesitance in your eyes, maybe even a twinge of shyness or embarrassment, and his hand leaves from your under your shirt.

"little one, have you been fucked?"

the nickname has you squeezing your legs together and he tries so hard to ignore it, finding himself now torn because he knows you deserve better for your first time. deserve someone who could properly love and cherish and take care of you, not someone like him whose desire is heightening from the mere fact that he'll be the first man you're with. that from here on out, you'll only have him to compare others to.

with a little shake of your head, he licks his dry lips and stares down at you intensely, taking a deep breath before asking if you're sure you still wanna do this with him.

"of course, it's not a big deal," you tell him softly, "i just...it should've happened by now and i just...i want to..." you stutter before confessing, "i'm more than ready to get it over with."

because the whole idea that your first time has to be special and magical kind of goes out the window when you're a legal adult in the presence of a man like this.

he thinks, if he were a better person, he would've asked one more time if you were absolutely sure but because he is who he is, and you're looking up at him the way you are with arousal and heat in your eyes, he picks you up and carries you toward the bedroom.

he lays you out, strips you from the rest of your clothes and works his fingers and tongue on your clit for what feels like hours. alternating from long licks to small circles with his thumb to his tongue lapping so skillfully against your slit until he's easily sliding two fingers in you. he watches you come apart for the first time, hot mouth right between your legs as he continues to pound his fingers in and out of you.

your mouth hangs open, fingers threading through his hair and trembling legs on either side of his head as you feel the deep knot in your lower stomach start to quickly unravel. you come with a moan and then more and more when he enters you inch by inch, so so slowly because he doesn't wanna hurt you and taint your first time even more but you're just so tight around him and he's gonna lose his mind at the feeling of your clenching.

"you're so fucking tight, baby," his low voice says in your ear as he barely starts to pick up his slowed pace, "this pussy's been waiting for me, hasn't it? you've just been waiting to be fucked by me."

you can only moan louder as a response because you're too embarrassed and out of your element but also so turned on and shaking.

as his pace picks up, as he fucks into you and hits a spot deep inside you, rubbing his finger back over your clit, he grits out "this is my pussy from here on out, do you hear me?"

you simply moan again but he slows his pace, taking his finger off you and you shoot your head up to look at him in distress.

"answer me," he growls, "this is my pussy now, right?"

"yes," you yelp out and you would've responded the same way if he said the sky was green because you just don't want him to stop.

"yes what?" he says, thrusting a tad faster but refusing to touch your aching clit.

"yes, this is your...your pussy," you say and even fucked out, the words feel awkward and foreign leaving your mouth. but you have to say them because the pleasure he's giving you outweighs your virgin politics and inexperience.

"that's a good baby," he says and he puts his finger back on your clit, still refusing to move it, just holds it there tauntingly and you let out a whine that doesn't sound familiar to your pounding ears.

"if you're in the mood to fuck, you call me. do you understand?"

"yes," you moan out.

"no one else fucks this pussy. only me," he says sternly and he can't believe his own ears. he's never the type to do this, never the type to initiate a second hookup let alone completely ban someone else from sleeping with anyone but him.

but he could tell the second he saw you, you were gonna affect him differently.

"yes, just you. you're...you're the only one that's gonna fuck me," you say, breathy and whiney and responsive so he's finally fucking into you again, pace sped up and thumb rubbing over your clit until you're both moaning each other's names, pussy clenching and cock leaking and then he crashes on top of you, boneless and tired but so relieved.

he rolls over onto his back, trying to catch his breath as he feels your sweaty forearms grazing together. the room is silent for a few minutes, heavy breathing and the scent of sex in the air surrounding both of you.

you let out a shaky breath before sitting up, hair tousled over your shoulder with flushed cheeks and he can't help the small smile that covers his face.

"you good?" he mumbles because he's not a complete asshole and that was a hell of a first time for you.

"yeah, i-i think so," you tell him quietly, "that was..."

the smirk creeping onto his face tells you he knows, his eyes moving down to your bare chest and shyness overtakes you as you grab the sheet to cover yourself.

"yeah, better cover up, not like that tight pussy of yours was just in my face or anything," he says sarcastically and your mouth drops open at his vulgarity.

"oh my, god! stop!" you yelp mortified, cheeks now bright red as you grip the cotton tighter.

a tiny chuckle leaves his mouth as he sits up, moving the strand of sweaty hair off your forehead and he feels himself ready to bolt.

because he's never had an interest in staying afterwards, had no desire to fake being interested in bare minimum aftercare or awkward one-word conversations during a post sex meal.

but with how you're looking at him, still so shy and pure after you were just ruined by him, eyes wide and sparkling at him, he's not about to risk his chances of messing up the system in an effort to not get attached to you.

though he supposes he ruined that when he made you promise not to have sex with anyone else.

but that's different, he tries to convince himself as he stands up to shrug on his boxers and pants, looking around for his shirt as you watch him with furrowed eyebrows.

you didn't think he was gonna stay but you also didn't think he was gonna run out of here five minutes after.

"i'm...i'm probably gonna order chinese if you wanna stay for some," you tell him softly because you'd be lying if you said you didn't want him to be next to you for just a little bit longer.

"i'm good, thank you though," he says while tugging on his shirt, "it's getting late and i gotta be up early tomorrow."

you check to see it's almost 11:00 at night and you nod your head in understanding, trying to banish the sinking feeling in your stomach.

"oh...right, yeah, okay," you stutter out and he smiles at you, trying to understand why there's a painful shooting through his chest.

he walks around the bed to sit next to you, his hand moving to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as he looks down at you.

he licks his dry lips, eyes burning into yours as his voice drops.

"you remember what i said? about only calling me?"

your eyebrow raises and a part of you wonders if he's gonna be out having sex with whoever he pleases when he's here putting these restrictions on you.

you're about to say something of the sorts when his hand brushes over your cheek, slow and soft and gentle and you're embarrassed that something as simple as that has words meant for establishing fairness and rules dying in your throat.

instead, you say "yes, mingi," and his eyes darken, his face bending down to place his lips on yours. they immediately part so his tongue can slip in your mouth, caressing your own as his teeth sink down into your lip so he can dominate you one more time.

he pulls back, looking over your flushed face and sloppily kissing your pink cheek as his hot breath fans across you.

"i'll see you soon, little one."

2. 5/10/19

you knew the second mingi arrived, he wasn't himself. even the way he texted you that night was unusual.

his message pinged through asking if you were home followed by a knocking on your door ten minutes later that had him barreling through your apartment. his hands immediately grabbed your cheeks, lips attacking yours as he kicks the door shut and slams you against it.

he shoved his tongue in your mouth, grabbing your wrists and pinning them against your head roughly before dragging his mouth down to your neck. he sucked it to the point of pain, teeth sinking into the sensitive skin and you let out the smallest of whimpers.

he pulls back and you see the fire behind his eyes, pent up stress and anger so raw that you find yourself swallowing from both fear and arousal.

because usually he was fun and playful during foreplay, the both of you giggly and teasing for hours before he finally took you into the bedroom and became this mingi.

but now he's only been here for two minutes and your neck is already marked up, wrists red and cramped from his hold and he looks just about ready to destroy you.

"i need you to be good for me tonight," he says, "please, baby, i need you so bad." his voice is desperate and deep and begging and you know something had to have happened.

so you're on your knees in seconds, his body now against the door as you pull his pants and boxers down to his ankles and work your hand around his dick to get him painfully hard. you hear a quiet bump from above you, his head thrown back against the wood and then a quiet groan leaving his mouth when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

you swirl your tongue around the tip before hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down, hands holding him down by his hips and you hear his choked out grunts of expletives.

"look at me," he then says and your eyes raise to his ever so slightly. you take him out of your mouth, running your tongue along the underside of his cock as your eyes bore into his and they're so dark looking down at you.

you spit on the tip, lips wet and red and just grazing his most sensitive part that he's nearly bucking his hips into your mouth.

"stop playing and suck," he growls and you obey immediately, taking him in your mouth to start bobbing your head again. your tongue swirls around the tip ever now and then, lapping in circles before engulfing his cock and his hands are pulling at your hair to create a makeshift ponytail.

your hand starts to jerk him and the feel of your wet, hot mouth around him has deep groans leaving his mouth.

his hips start twitching again and he bucks his hips into your mouth, his large length hitting the back of your throat and a muffled gag leaves your throat.

a strangled chuckle leaves his mouth as he pulls you off his dick by your hair. you wince at the sharp pain before he pushes you backwards causing you to fall on to your butt.

you're shocked at first and then your heart speeds up when he's looming over you, reaching down with his hands to get you completely on your back. he meets you on the ground, body over yours as his hand comes up to your throat.

"gagging on my cock? i forgot you were just a sweet little virgin when we met," he tells you, eyes hot and dark and intensely staring into yours like a mad man, "but i've really made you into my little whore, haven't i?"

he's never talked to you like this before, never degraded you in the slightest and you didn't think you'd be into it but the wetness seeping into your thong is saying otherwise.

"and you're still only my whore, right?" he asks, tightening his hold around your neck.

you nod your head, swallowing nervously because you're not used to this tight a grip.

"i had such a bad fucking day, so many people getting on my nerves and fucking things up," he confesses to you while he tears your shirt off over your head. "but you. you always help, little one," he continues, ripping down your shorts and thong as his breath fans right between your legs, "you and this sweet little pussy reserved for me always help."

you squirm when more wetness pools between your bare legs and he smirks, licking over your wet thighs and then to down to your hole before moving to your clit. he puts one finger in you, licking and sucking and playing with you before another finger slams into you.

you moan at the feeling and it only causes him to suck your clit again, fingers angled up to hit that spot deep inside you.

he looks up at you and slowly licks up and down when he sees you've been watching him through half lidded eyes.

"you like watching me baby? like watching me eat your pretty pussy?" he asks, fingers ripped from you as he shoves them in your mouth in an effort to make you gag again.

you cry out and moan against his fingers because he's making you feel so good but also empty, his tongue not enough to satisfy your dripping pussy.

you twitch in his hold, moving your hips back and fourth almost uncontrollably and he smirks, pulling his mouth back to see you splayed out on your living room floor with your legs spread and face twinged with arousal and frustration.

"you just want my cock, don't you?" he muses, "want me to fuck you over and over until you're screaming my name."

you nod your head, a tiny whine of "yes, please" leaving your mouth and you cry out just seconds later when his cock slams into your wetness.

he pounds into you like he's never done before, your body moving against the floor as he grunts and groans and grinds himself into you.

your feet wrap around his waist, his pants still by his ankles and he lifts your hips up so his thrusts can hit you deeper.

you let out a loud moan, slapping your hand over your mouth because your downstairs neighbor is already probably pretty pissed off.

but mingi doesn't care.

he rips your hand away from your mouth, taking both of them and holding your arms above your head.

"don't even fucking try it," he growls in your ear, steadying out his pace, "i'm treating this pussy so well and you don't want me to hear you scream my name?"

your eyes roll back when he hits that deep spot in you again, his hand tightening on your wrists as the other one roughly plays with your hard nipple. you let out a moan, throwing your head back and attempting to grind your hips to match his speed.

he feels you clench around him and he pounds into you again, fast and hard and deep and you let a tiny, pleasurable scream as the knot starts to unravel.

"you've been getting so fucking greedy, coming whenever you want," he growls at you, "you think because you have this tight little pussy, you can just-" his loud, abrupt moan cuts off his sentence as he comes in you, filling you up with frantic thrusts. it's warm and wet and pulsating and your moans are bouncing off the walls in harmony.

he's sweating over you as you try to catch your breath, chest heaving up and down and you finally feel his grip around your wrists loosen.

you pull them back, cracking and stretching them and you see the red marks and bruises already start to adorn them. he looks down at you and you see despite what just happened, he's still tense. considerably less tense but still tense.

which is why you fuck three more times that night.

once right on the same spot again, just ten minutes after, the floor sweaty and probably permanently stained with fluids.

the second time, you made it to the couch and he took you from behind, hips slapping against yours loudly as he dug his fingers into your waist.

and the third time you somehow ended up on the dining room table, your body laid out on the cold surface as he ate your pussy for what you believe was 40 minutes, the overstimulation from the three rounds prior almost making it impossible for you to reach an orgasm.

but once you finally came, he sat you on his cock as he slammed your hips into him on your (now broken) dining room chair.

"i'll pay for that, i promise," he says breathlessly as he walks you over to the couch, still inside you before dropping you down on the chaise. he hovers above you, observing your flushed cheeks, bruised neck and legs that were still trembling from the five orgasms that ripped through you tonight.

"it's fine," you laughed out breathily and because you're used to this, you know in about three minutes he's gonna start looking for his clothes scattered across your apartment.

you don't know why it bothered you, why he never stayed for more than ten minutes after you guys do what you do. you've accepted it, somewhat, after all of these months.

but it doesn't slightly hurt any less.

and tonight seems different. he was so obviously bothered and tense, so much pent up aggravation and anger and annoyance that he took out on your body.

and not that you were complaining....but you also think it might be helpful for him to talk about it.

"oh well if that's the case then, we might as well break the other three, right?" he jokes. or at least attempts too. because it doesn't reach his eyes.

you giggle, shaking your head at him but he sees you looking at him with this wary look of concern.

"what?" he asks and you lick your lips in hesitation.

"are...are you okay?" you squeak out, "that was...a lot."

"you didn't seem to mind," he says cockily, pulling his boxers and pants over himself again.

you squint your eyes at him slightly because true but not a real answer.

"i didn't, i just wanna make sure you're okay, that's all," you tell him.

there's a few beats of silence because he's trying to get out of his own head. but work was just such a nightmare, all of the guys fighting and having differing opinions and being put through a 3 hour meeting just for nothing but more confusion to be added to the pot.

and then he comes here, knowing that you deserve better than him but not being able to help coming back to see your smile and laugh and hear your moans of pleasure from him fucking into you.

he wants to stop, for your sake, but he's selfish and even though it pisses him off, he can't stop.

"i'm fine," he says shortly and you recoil from his tone.

it hurts his chest when he notices. and then hurts even more when despite his attitude, you try again.

"maybe you wanna eat something before you go?" you, say softly, timidly because you know it's a risk, "i could heat up some of my food from-"

"i said i'm fine, y/n," he says shortly before asking "now where's my shirt?"

hurt is swirling in you because after all of that, he's still gonna be an asshole to you.

"i don't know," you tell him shortly and he snaps his head to look at you.

"what, now you're seriously mad?" he asks in disbelief, "sorry i'm not fucking hungry."

"no, i just don't know where it is," you say quitely, padding over to your own pile of clothes and throwing on your shirt.

you spot his a few inches away and grab it, bunching it up and throwing it to him.

"here," you say, wincing when you walk back to the couch because the soreness is already present between your legs.

he deeply inhales, watching your expression twist into one of discomfort and he walks into the kitchen as he puts his shirt on.

you're flipping through the channels quietly when he suddenly hands you an ice pack wrapped in a paper towel, holding it out until you take it with a sigh.

because he's so hot and cold like this all the time. only texting you when he wants to fuck, leaving right after you use each other bodies but sometimes doing little things that leave your hurting heart warm and fluttery.

"thank you," you mumble, looking at him before training your eyes back to the tv.

you hear him sigh and he just stands there for a few moments, watching as you ice between your legs and he hates that he is who he is.

hates that before you can ask him again if he's sure he doesn't wanna stay, he wishes you a goodnight and leaves you alone in that apartment yet again.

3. 7/26/19

mingi's phone blares in his ear, awakening him from his slumber and he looks with half open eyes at the bright screen. he's sees your name and assumes it's gonna be a 1 am booty call, so he probably shouldn't answer because he has work tomorrow and is so damn tired and did just see you a few days ago.

but then he's sliding his phone open anyway because apparently he has no control over his own body when it comes to seeing you.

"hey little one," his deep, sleepy voice mumbles.

"mingi!" he hears you screech into the phone, "mingi, mingi, mingi, can you pleeeease come over when I ge-et home," you stutter and he smiles at your drunken voice.

"for you, i think i can manage," he teases, "where are you now?" he sits up in his bed because he's done with sleep now knowing you're intoxicated AND horny out in public.

"i'm at-omg i'm at the bar we met at!" you squeal, stumbling over your feet and leaning up against a tree, "do you remember that? on valentine's day, cherry still in tact!"

he tries not to burst out laughing, phone against his ear as his slips on his shoes, "now how could i forget that?"

you giggle against the tree and you think it's as tall as mingi. you tell him so.

"i doubt that," he says, "what are you doing against a tree?"

"i...perhaps am a little drunk and dizzy so i'm gonna call an-an uber after i confirm this di-ck appointment," you say through hiccups.

"don't call for an uber, i'm coming now," he tells you, grabbing his key and trying not to lose his shit at the term dick appointment leaving your mouth.

"oh...really?" you ask him, tone light and airy and you sound so happy that it makes his heart soar, "thank you, mingi."

"i'll be there soon, little one, stay against that tree and don't go near the street."

"sir yes sir!" you respond to his command before adding, "mingi?"

"y/n?"

"i like when you call me that."

he can't help the chuckle that leaves his mouth now, walking out the door and to his car with a smile on his face.

"i know you do, baby. i'm coming for you now."

"not yeeet, you're not," you sing-song to him before ending the call with a giggle and if he speeds a little bit to get there, no one's around to notice.

he's helping you stumble up the stairs to your apartment twenty minutes later, arm around your shoulders as you kick your high heels off your aching feet.

he couldn't help the way his eyes raked over your body, tight jeans and a crop top accentuating his favorite parts of you that only his eyes have seen. or at least he hopes so.

(something burns in him at the prospect that it still doesn't hold true).

"you have fun tonight?" he asks as he watches you grab a water bottle out of the fridge. you tip your head back and gulp it, the faded hickeys he gave you the other night visible as you swallow the cold liquid.

"yes!" you squeak out, "we just wanted to dance and the dj was so good! and i had three shots!" you tell him, holding up and wiggling three fingers.

"yeah?" he says, "who'd you dance with?"

even a little tipsy, you know what he's hinting at.

"my friends," you tell him and then you get a teasing glint in your eye before adding, "and this one guy. hot but not as hot as you," you tell him, running your finger along his chest.

he squints down at you, stepping closer to you and you feel yourself already getting heated.

"oh?"

"yeah," you tell him, taking the collar of his shirt in your hand and pulling him down so your mouth is by his ear, "you're even a better kisser too."

something flares through him immediately, a growl leaving his mouth as he drags you by the arm and pushes you down on the couch, water bottle flinging across the room.

"you better be joking," he warns and you smile up at him so teasingly he just wants to-

"i'm not, you really are," you tell him and he leans over so his big frame covers you completely.

"y/n," he says seriously and a tiny pout covers your lips.

"not little one?" you say, eyes wide as you look up at him and deepen your voice when you use the nickname.

"stop fucking around," he growls and he's getting angry now but you can only giggle softly at him.

"i'm kidding, mingi, gosh," you tell him, pulling him down by his collar again so your lips meet.

but he doesn't kiss you back and you furrow your eyebrows at him.

"kiss me," you whine and he looks down at you with hard eyes.

"watch yourself," he tells you before taking your chin in his hand and placing a kiss on your awaiting mouth.

you make out until your lips are sore and red, overlapping tongues and teeth sinking into each other as quiet groans and mumbles fill the room. you grind against his bulge and throw your head back with a moan, rubbing down harder and harder.

"it's so big, mingi," you breathe out, "your cock is so big and fills me so well."

he mumbles out the quietest, gruffest "shit" because he's never heard you talk like that on your own. you've become more talkative, moans of yes and curses and repeating back what he asks of you; but never have words that dirty left your mouth.

it causes him to grow harder against you, ripping off your shirt and unclasping your bra so he can dip his head and take your nipple in his mouth. he swirls his tongue around it, your hand coming to hold the back of his head as you thread your fingers through his hair.

you whine his name and his teeth graze you ever so slightly.

he moves to the other nipple as your moans ring out and you push him off to shimmy out of your jeans and soaked thong. you then turn to face him, his hair messy and lips swollen as he watches you undress. you crawl over to him, sliding off his sweatpants and you're thrilled to see he's not wearing any boxers, cock previously hard and straining right against the black material under you.

"mmm," you moan out, licking your lips at the sight of it raging and exposed before adding "take off your shirt," and he's surprised by how easily he listens to you.

when his shirt is still over his head, he feels your hot wet mouth around his dick and he hisses, quickly throwing it over the couch and meeting your eyes that are already burning into his.

he watches your head move and tongue swirl around him in a lustful daze before you pull his dick out and slap it against your lips as you catch your breath.

"my favorite cock," you tell him and he feels paralyzed by you. by your eyes and your words and the way you look with his dick slapping against your pretty wet lips.

"my favorite cock and my only cock," you clarify, "do you like that?"

"yes, baby," he moans out and he can't take his eyes off you, "i like that a lot."

"it tastes so good," you whine to him, circling the tip with your tongue again before pulling him by his shoulders and sitting him up to sit on his lap.

"but am i your only pussy?" you suddenly ask him, head turned to the side questioningly as your arms wrap around his broad shoulders. his mouth drops because you really just asked him that and he wasn't at all expecting it.

"wha-what?" he stutters, brain already fuzzy from arousal as he now stares at you.

"well...you say i can't fuck anyone else so i was just curious if the same went for you," you tell him, voice sweet and airy but your drunken self with darker motives.

you're straddling his core, your wet heat right on his raging cock and he can barely hold himself together, can barely form a sentence.

"why aren't you saying anything?" you mumble before standing, your pussy leveled with his mouth and you pull him slightly forward so he's only inches away from you.

"answer me," you demand and he moans against you at your forcefulness, slowly licking at you and circling your clit agonizingly slow before carefully moving down to your slit and wet hole.

but you pull his face away despite the immense pleasure because you need an answer before you give in to him.

"y/n..." he whines, so close to your heat that he just wants to bury his face in between your legs and taste you over and over.

"tell me," you growl, not at all used to being like this, "am i your only pussy?"

"yes baby," he says, his face moving closer to you but you pull him back by his hair.

"you're lying," you spit at him, moving so you're right above his lips and then pulling back when his tongue tries to lick you.

"i'm not, little one, i swear," he moans out, "how could i when you taste like this...i don't...want anyone else's" he whines, eyes looking up into yours and you can tell he's being sincere.

"how do i taste?" you ask him, rubbing yourself back on his face and he grabs your hips to eat and suck and lick every part of you, like his very life depends on it. like he's trying to prove you're the only one.

moans leave your mouth and your legs wobble above him, hand tangling in his hair when he finally speaks after devouring you.

"so fucking sweet, little one," he says against you, lips glistening, "so so sweet," and before he can continue licking against your slit, the back of his head is pulled upwards, forcing him back to your clit and he smiles against your wetness.

"i love when you eat my pussy," you tell him, voice breathy and strangled and your mission is long forgotten, "you make me feel so go-" a moan cuts off your sentence when he sucks your clit into his mouth at your praises, "good, so fucking good."

he's about to really go back in, about to grab you by your ass and slam you into his mouth when you pull away and squat down to sit on his cock.

"but..." you tell him, hand back on his veiny skin as you guide him inside you,"i've been wanting to ride your cock since you first fucked me."

because it's true.

and even when you're on top, he's the one controlling you, moving you by gripping on to your waist or rocking your hips into him.

which is fine for you on any other day.

but today, you can't hold back anymore. you were secretly so fed up and annoyed at yourself tonight. because you really couldn't even think about hooking up with someone at the bar.

all because of this man.

the man who refuses to stay with you or cuddle or see you outside of this apartment.

the man who you think likes you a little bit as a person but likes what your pussy and mouth do even more.

so you drank and drank until your low tolerance said enough and then you naturally felt the need to see him. but you figured now would be the time to assert yourself in some way, with liquid courage and your ever present need for him to find out if his little rule went both ways.

"i wanna do it myself," you tell him as your wet, hot core hovers over his rock hard cock, "will you let me do that? let me ride you all by myself?"

he swallows thickly because he wants to just thrust up into you and take your tight pussy the way he always does. but you're so sweet and polite and ready for him that he can only nod his head.

"let's see what you got, little one."

and right as the words leave his mouth, you sink down onto him. you both moan at the sensation, not used to this deep angle as you rock into him slowly, experimentally and his hands are already at your hips ready to guide you.

but you grab them and hold them, placing them on your chest because you figure he won't move them off when he's got your hard nipples to play with.

"no, mingi," you scold, rolling your hips slowly as you trail kisses down his neck, "don't move your hands, mmkay?" you mumble against his skin.

he doesn't answer, just kneads your boobs with his large hands and you sink down on his cock again, causing a sharp exhale to leave his nose.

"okay?"

he shakes his head at you because you're so cute and pure but also so fucking bold and demanding tonight.

"who do you think you are," he says, almost as if he's talking to himself and it's all the motivation you need to start bouncing up and down on him.

you throw your head back at the feeling, your boobs rocking in his hands as his legs spread out underneath you.

"fuck," you hear him grunt out but you barely hear him because you're so wet and he's so big, filling you up like you're a perfect fit. you clench around him because he's so thick around your tightness, your bouncing and rolling steady with him inside you.

"oh..oh my god," you moan out, head thrown back as you get yourself off on him. you grip his broad shoulders as your legs start to burn and you've never heard this many deep groans leave his mouth.

but he can't help it, watching you take control and ride him with your face so blissed out by his cock.

"holyshit baby," he grunts again and he tries to put his hands on your waist but you grab them, shoving them back to your chest.

"don't," you whine out and you find your pace again. grinding and bouncing and rolling, his moans and groans and curses filling the air and they only fuel you to roll your hips more.

that and your own immense pleasure coursing through your veins.

"this...feels so fucking good, oh my god," you whine, "your cock is so-" a loud moan rips through you, your clit stimulated from the position and your nipples erect from mingi's hands rubbing mercilessly at them.

"my cock is so what little one?" he asks, his voice strained as he looks down at you with sweat glistening on your face and chest.

"it's so fucking big and it," a moan slips out of your mouth before you continue, "fucks me so good," you cry out and the tightening in your core you're so familiar with hits you. "oh my go-god, i'm gonna...mingi, come, please," you beg, frantically rolling your hips so you get him to release first.

"i'm close, baby," he grunts out, taking your nipple in his mouth and licking over it; you nearly come on the spot and you think that's why he does it.

"please, please, please, mingi," you're all but screaming now, "come in me, i want you to come in my pussy. it's all yours, it's all yours so please-"

you feel a hot burst in your core followed by his loud grunts in your ear and you're finally able to rub out your own orgasm.

the clenching of your core, his hot release, your moans filling the air is almost all becoming too much as you collapse against him. your face is in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily against him and his hands finally make their way to your waist.

he squeezes it softly, rubbing over the smooth skin with his thumbs before picking you up and laying you on the couch gently. he leans over you, wiping the sweat off your face with his hand before plopping down next to you.

your mind is fuzzy from the alcohol and post orgasm daze, leg stretching out and falling into his naked lap. you both sit there for what feels like hours, hearts slowing and breaths evening out until your leg falls off his lap when he stands.

your stomach plummets because you know it's that time of the night and you blink back the emotional tears you're just gonna blame the alcohol on.

"are you leaving?" you ask him quietly, laying on your side as he puts on his sweatpants.

he bends down in front of the couch so you're at eye level, his hand raking through your sweaty hair.

"you know i am," he says quietly, eyes roaming your face that falls into the most heartbreaking frown.

"why do you always leave," your voice comes out in a mumble, "you always leave so fast and it hurts my feelings."

your mind is so fuzzy with tiredness, eyes fighting to stay open so you don't notice how sad your confession makes him.

"i don't mean to, little one," he says softly, "it's just...what i do." what i have to do.

it's a lousy excuse, lousy excuse for what used to be him being inconsiderate and uncaring and then morphing into something he does now to protect himself.

because he knows if he holds you, if he gets one taste of anything other than sex with you, it's over. he's over and you'll have the power to completely ruin him.

"well i wish you wouldn't," you whine before asking, "can you at least...bring me to bed?

he licks his dry lips, looking down at you and nodding after a quiet, "please," leaves your mouth, eyes wide and glossy. he picks you up bridal style, your head against his bare chest as he carries you into your bedroom.

he pulls back the comforter and places you down before covering you with it, watching as you snuggle further into your bed with a content sigh.

"this is nice..." you mumble and your eyes pop open to look at him. they look even more teary in your dimly lit room and he's hoping that maybe his own eyes are just playing tricks on him.

"you good now?" his eyes roam over your sleepy face one more time before he turns to leave.

"wait," you mumble, eyes feeling so heavy as you struggle to keep them open before you ask, "can you please stay with me?"

"y/n..." he whispers into the dark, voice strained and shaky and he feels his heart breaking but your quiet, sleepy voice continues.

"i know you won't...but i wish you would, just once," you mumble and then five seconds later, your breaths turn even and you're fast asleep.

4. 9/18/19

"ah shit, i left my wallet at home," the boy across from you says and you sharply inhale because you didn't think this date could go any worse. but of course here's the universe just continuously proving you wrong, about to send you into a downward spiral.

"oh," you say quietly, looking at the total of $65.31 and swallowing your pride because you never wanna see this guy again. "it's fine, i'll just pay it."

"you sure?" he asks and you quickly slide your card in the bill pocket before flagging over the waitress.

"yeah, no worries. it happens," you say before thanking the lady who looks at you sympathetically.

she watched the whole date unravel into a disaster of the night: from him being 30 minutes late to cutting you off so he could order your food and then proceeding to boast about himself and his six figure job for 45 minutes.

"thanks, babe." you swallow down the queasiness fighting it's way up your throat, "maybe i can pay you back some other way. like at my place?" he suggests, eyes staring at you like they're supposed to be seductive and alluring when he's really just appearing cross-eyed.

"uh..i don't think so," you tell him, smiling at the waitress before you sign and quickly stand up, "it's getting late so i'm...i should probably go."

he scoffs at you, like you were somehow the one wasting his time and conning him into a free meal.

"nice meeting you," you lie through your teeth and he mumbles something that sounds like "yeah, whatever" before you scurry out to your car.

the whole drive home, you hold back frustrated tears because what the fuck.

this was your 4th first date in three weeks, curtesy of your friends' incessant need to hook you up with their coworkers or friends of friends and you've had enough.

had enough of the rejection and bad dates or the "you're really nice but..." and without fail, every single dinner ending with the obvious inclination they're just doing this to get laid.

and it's not like in the back of your mind, you're refusing for any other reason than the men being so boring and self-absorbed and just plain awful.

so that's how you find yourself texting mingi the second you park your car, running upstairs to shower some of tenseness out of your muscles while hoping the rest will be fucked out.

you're still in your towel when he knocks on the door and you let him in, eyes roaming your body and a smirk crosses his face.

"well, this is awfully convenient," he says and you roll your eyes with a chuckle, dropping your towel and pulling him in your bedroom by his shirt.

"hey, you're gonna stretch it," he whines and it's not like he actually cares when you're pushing him down on your bed.

"too bad."

you straddle his hips, bending down to kiss him and you two start doing what you always do. it's so natural at this point, the way your lips and tongues collide against one another.

his hands come around to grip your bare ass, grinding you into his growing bulge and you bite down on his lip before soothing it with your tongue.

the more you make out, the more clothes he sheds off until you're both pressed up against each other's naked bodies, the sounds of sloppy kisses and muffled moans filling your small bedroom.

you're about to pepper kisses down his neck, mark him up like he always does to you, when he suddenly grabs your thighs harshly and spins you around until you're sitting on his face. his tongue delves into your wet opening as you let out a high pitched whine at the sudden feeling.

"shit," you moan out and you feel him smirk against your pussy until he commands, "suck."

you lean down, grinding yourself on his face in the process before taking his dick in your mouth. you suck him off, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue as your hand joins to jerk him off. a moan falls from your lips as he sucks your clit into his warm mouth and it vibrates against his cock. there's something about the way you're moaning around him, muffled and silenced and full that has you dripping over his mouth.

you feel his finger make its way into you and you bob your head faster after spitting over the tip of his dick, sucking it slowly, and his hips start jerking into your mouth.

you're matching each other's pace, trying to get the other to come first and you feel an orgasm coming on already. desperate to come but even more desperate to win, you slide yourself off his mouth and sit on his dick backwards, ass in his face as you start to ride him.

you know you're gonna be victorious because he's groaning and cursing and slapping your ass, squeezing one of your cheeks as he throws his head back into one of the pillows.

"jesus christ, baby," he says, voice strangled and wobbly, "keep going."

your arms fall out in front of you to ground you, hips rolling and twisting and then bouncing and you moan out into the sticky air.

"so big," you whine out because this angle could be borderline painful if you move the wrong way, his cock feeling like it's lodged in your lower stomach and puncturing vital organs.

"so good," he praises, gripping your ass and you know it's gonna have bright red finger marks, "so fucking good."

"come for me, mingi," you whine, "come for me if i'm so good to you," and 3 seconds later, you listen in utter delight as he's grunting and groaning above you, his hot come releasing into you as you roll your hips slowly to drag out his orgasm.

but you barely have time to celebrate because he pulls you up and off him, fingers on your clit and mouth around your nipple as he brings you to your own orgasm shortly after.

he watches as you try to catch your breath below him, eyes shut and arms splayed out as your stress and annoyance vanishes and is instantly replaced with sadness and disappointment.

because you can distract yourself all you want, drown yourself in the pleasure of mingi's cock and mouth, but the high will wear off and the realization that no one wants you will sink in. not the assholes you go on dates with and especially not the asshole who's about to bolt out of here in five minutes.

he sees your eyes are twinged with sadness, glassy and staring off into space and he bites his lip because he doesn't know what to make of it.

"what happened little one?" he asks, thumb wiping over your lower lip, "upset you didn't get to come on my tongue? the night is still young."

you know he's joking and being light-hearted, eyes bright and peering down at you expectantly for another round or three but you can't stop yourself from snapping.

"oh is it? i thought for sure you'd be rushing out of here by now."

his face drops at your tone and his eyebrows furrow, unsure of what to even say to you. because there's nothing he can say.

but he also doesn't know where that came from.

"what?"

"maybe you can tell me" you suddenly blurt out, "why no one sticks around, not even for a second fucking date since, you know, you're so well rehearsed in leaving."

now he knows he's definitely missing something but can only watch as you start to have a breakdown, his own chest bubbling up with guilt and confusion and anger.

his eyes are dark and narrowed when he spits, "why are being like this right now?"

"because i'm so tired of feeling alone," you tell him and maybe it was a deeper answer than he was expecting because he looks taken back. "i'm so tired of looking like a fucking idiot when my friends keep setting me up on stupid dates and i have to tell them what a shitshow it was."

"so you're taking it out on me because you had a bad date?" he snaps, "i'm struggling to see how that's my fault."

"but then there's you, mingi," you say, sitting up and throwing him a harsh look, "i give you everything because, well, how the fuck can i not and you still fly out that door, still don't fucking want me and only come back because of my pussy."

he reaches over and grabs you by the jaw roughly, staring down at you with dark, fiery eyes. "stop." i want you too much, that's the problem.

you pull your face away, "you stop. it's true and you know it."

tears prick behind your eyes and you feel so stupid for doing this. you should've never invited him over in the first place because you knew you were gonna end up having a pity party.

his hand makes its way back to your jaw, thumb rubbing over your soft skin and forcing your eyes to meet his.

"you don't know anything," he mumbles so quietly you can barely make out the words. but you can only advert your eyes from him because you feel so shitty and sad and pathetic.

but then he's moving your face again, looking right at you when he softly asks, "what do you want me to do?" and you feel a tear slip down your face.

he peers down at you and his heart is breaking because he can tell you're hurting tonight, can tell you're truly upset and he doesn't want you to feel like you're ruining anything between you two.

but he's also being mindful of himself and his heart, attempting to find a happy medium inside of him.

"little one, why are you crying?" and you don't know if it's the name or his soft tone that causes the tears to pour from your eyes, pushing him back and turning away from him.

you want to tell him you want him to hold you, to please stay with you so you can burrow yourself into his chest and surround yourself in his warmth and fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

but if you outright ask him and he still denies you, your tears will never stop tonight.

so you mumble out "please just go," but you can feel him still sitting beside you minutes later.

his heart is torn in two trying to decide what to do, decide whether to stay and wipe your tears and put you to bed or do what he always does and be a cowardly asshole.

"y/n, i'm trying to help," he says, placing his hand on your bare back and rubbing his thumb back and forth ever so slightly, "i hate seeing you like this," he mumbles softly and he's not even sure if you hear him.

because he only hears your quiet crying, breathing erratic and shoulders shaking and he just wants to throw himself around you and force you to talk out your feelings with him.

"then leave," you tell him, "i...i shouldn't have asked you to come tonight when i'm like this."

but i want to be here for you.

and if speaking the truth were that easy, those words would've left his mouth and maybe resolved the issue. but, because he's mingi and because the truth is often too hard to say, he places a lingering kiss on your head, one of the first chaste kisses he's ever given you, before putting on his clothes and leaving you to cry yourself to sleep.

5. 11/30/19

"did i mention that i missed this pussy," mingi mumbles against your thigh and you instinctively widen your legs because apparently not getting laid for the two weeks you were abroad really did a number on the both of you.

"only about 50 times," you quip because you've honestly lost count of how many times you guys have had sex today.

he spits between your legs at your tone, using his finger to swirl it around the sensitive area before lapping at your clit. you're so overstimulated and raw, voice scratchy from your screams and wrists sore from your hands currently being bound by his tie on your headboard.

but you can't stop the pleasurable moans that rip through you, your hands flailing against the tightly tied knot and you would've gone away sooner if you had known this was a form of punishment.

"can't believe you made me go that long without it," he says, his finger running teasingly up and down your slit, "you know how many times i had to get off with my own hand. had to think of you and this pussy just so i could come."

"but it's such a nice hand," you whine sarcastically and he halts all movement down there, pulling his face and fingers away and now you're about to pay dearly for your attitude.

"you came back a little fucking brat," he spits, tightening the tie around your hands, "now you're not coming."

but you're still stimulated and dripping and desperate to come, crying out and begging and pleading. but he only sits next to you so he's by your head, yanking your face down to his cock and shoving it in your mouth.

you gag at the sudden intrusion, jaw still aching from the last three times you blew him but you persist, licking and sucking and drooling on him as he thrusts into your mouth.

you moan around him the more he talks to you, the more he curses at you and tells you "this should fucking shut you up."

your hands are pulling against the tie because you want to touch him, want to stroke the parts of him your mouth can't reach and tease the tip of his dick but it only starts to chafe your skin.

"so...close," he moans out and his stamina is something to be commended, "your mouth is so- i'm gonna-" and you promptly hear him moan again. luckily there's not too much of a taste, his cock completely drained empty but what does make it past you make a show out of enjoying because you have to be good now.

a tiny noise leaves the back of your throat, a mix between a pant and a whine, as you lick your lips, eyes shut like you're savoring the taste of him and you bite your bottom lip when your gaze meets his.

"you taste so good," you say, voice breathy and eyes rolling back and you're resisting the urge to smirk when his mouth dives in and his tongue finishes you off between your legs.

you come with one last scream, borderline painful from how sensitive you are and you push his head away with your hands.

"i'm gonna fucking die if i come again," you mumble a few moments later, laid out on your back with your knees bent and drenched hair splayed away from your sticky body.

"agreed," mingi says, reaching over to untie your wrists and you had forgotten they were even bounded. he cringes when he sees the skin is red and chafed, deep indentions and he rubs his thumb over them gently.

"jesus christ, little one, we might have to start using a safe word," he says, examining them thoroughly, "do they hurt?"

you pull them back to stretch them and you wince, rubbing your own hand over one of them. "a little bit...but it's okay....i liked it," you admit, cheeks flushed and voice quiet and he lets out a small laugh next to you.

"still so shy after being such a cockslut, huh," he teases, his face leaning in close to yours and you push him away with a giggle.

"don't use that word!" you squeal and he smiles down at you because fuck did he miss you.

"really though, are you good," he asks, "because that was like a 6 hour sex marathon."

"oh, i know," you tell him because you can absolutely feel the soreness coming on, "you're completely empty, bud."

his head snaps to look at you and you give him an innocent smile, stretching your body before rolling over with a groan.

"i'm okay though, just very tired now," you mumble, closing your eyes and his roam over your face. because he notices that he always does that, takes in every part of your face when your eyes are closed and tries to stop the fluttering in his chest, stop his body from reaching out to touch your hair or wrap his arms around you.

and if he wasn't already sure that he really liked you, the time apart made it obvious.

"would i be able to shower quick before i go?" he asks, shaking himself from his thoughts, "my hot water isn't working and i definitely don't need a cold one after tonight."

you giggle sleepily against your pillow, mumbling a "sure," and then you pull the blanket over yourself and succumb to your exhaustion.

he watches with a smile as you lose yourself to sleep before padding off to your bathroom. the hot water pelts his sweaty body as he stands under it, eyes shut as his exhausted body relaxes under the heat.

he squeezes a bit of shampoo in his hand, bringing his hand up to his nose to smell it and there's something strange about using your soap; almost as if the lavender vanilla scent should only belong to you. but it's nice, being surrounded by the smell he associates with you. it does something to his chest, his heart tugging in a way he's been trying to avoid for months now.

but it's getting harder to ignore. getting harder to leave you here alone and act as if you're not way way more than a friends with benefit.

he tries to push you out of his thoughts because he's not gone yet. he's still here with you, still gets to look at you and touch you and smell you. and that very thought has him speeding up the shower, lathering his body with soap before washing it off and enjoying the heat for a few more moments.

he peeks into the bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist, to see your body is still and assumes you're still sleeping. he quietly tiptoes around the sea of clothes to find his, slipping on his pants before he hears a little whine.

he looks over, seeing your eyes are still shut but face now slightly pinched together. he keeps his gaze on you for a few seconds before searching for his shirt and throwing it over his head.

it's within those moments you start silently thrashing, legs twitching and arms flailing until he hears a broken "stop" leave your lips.

"y/n?" he says softly, waking over to peer down at you in bed.

your brows furrow even more, eyes scrunched tightly and face in a grimace as you start shaking your head side to side.

"no, no, no," you weakly mumble out, "stop. please stop!"

"y/n," he says louder, placing his hand on your cheek. but your thrashing quickly pushes it off and he moves it to your shoulder.

"wake up, baby," he coos, shaking your body, "c'mon."

a loud groan rips through your mouth, almost resembling a cry and he shakes you one more time before your eyes pop open.

you don't even know why you're crying, heart racing and brain fuzzy as you try to piece together what just happened.

"what the hell happened," mingi asks you, his hand back on your cheek as he wipes your tears off with his thumb.

"i don't-i don't even know," you stutter breathlessly, "i just heard your voice and then i-" it's so hard to breathe so you try to catch your breath, in your nose, out your mouth, and he pulls you into his body on instinct.

he mimics your breathing in your ear, in and out as he holds the back of your head with his hand and he doesn't think he'll be able to leave you tonight. doesn't want to leave you like this and is willing to put his stupid selfish feelings aside for a night to give you the comfort you need and deserve.

you hesitantly move your head to his chest, shakily breathing out and your body visibly relaxes when he allows your touch, welcomes it even when he puts his arm around you and hums again your hair.

"does that happen a lot?" he asks.

"mmm, not really," you tell him even though your sleeping habits have always been questionable, " but when it does, i always wake up so upset and...i never know why, can never remember," you explain softly, eyes feeling heavy because he's warm and big and you've wanted this with him for so long.

his lips brush against your head, arm tightening around you protectively. "i'm sorry, baby," he says softly and the affection in his tone has you a blushing mess, stomach churning and heart pounding.

his heart warms when you snuggle further into his chest as you both lay there silently, your hand making its way to draw shapes on his chest.

you're so tired and calm, so content with the current position that you don't even realize you're mumbling a few moments later, "are you gonna stay?"

his usual reaction would be to bolt, to stutter out some lame excuse and deal with his sinking heart.

but he's admitting defeat, admitting that he can't leave you tonight and probably fell in love with you somewhere along the way and has been way too scared to deal with it.

he's about to breathe out a yes when his phone blares in his sweatshirt pocket on the floor and he huffs because really, what god fucking awful timing.

you kisses your head in apology and you hold back a sigh when he moves you off him, going over to pick up his phone.

"what?" you hear him snap and a frantic male voice on the phone is speaking a mile a minute. you watch his face morph into one of shock and annoyance and then disappointment as his gaze moves to you and a tiny pout covers his lips.

"i'll be there in 10," he grumbles out, hanging up the phone with a huff and making his way over to you. he kneels down, hands running over your hair gently as his soft eyes stare at you.

"i gotta go, little one, i'm so sorry," he says and you can hear the genuine sincerity in his voice, "are you okay? i can...i can come back after if you need."

your own hand moves to his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the soft skin and you shake your head even though your heart is soaring at the gesture.

"it's okay, i'm good now," you tell him, "i hope everything's okay."

he nods before bending down to press his lips to your forehead. "it's fine, my friend's are just drunk assholes and need someone responsible," he tells you with a chuckle and you roll your eyes.

"and they called you?" you tease and he can't even pretend to be mad when you're smiling at him like that.

"sh, don't be a brat," he tells you, trailing his lips down to meet yours in a peck, "or else you know what'll happen next time."

+1: 1/10/20

it's like you guys came full circle, sitting side by side at the bar stools you first met almost a year.

"now, see, it was a good thing i embarrassed you after all!" your friend remarks while ordering a round of shots, "if i hadn't, who knows how bad those cobwebs would've gotten in your-"

"shut up!" you screech, covering her mouth with your hand as mingi chuckles next to you.

"i mean...she's not wrong," he teases, looking at your flushed cheeks and remembering your first night together, "because you were waiting for me, weren't you, little one?"

you feel yourself burning, squinting your eyes at his hushed words because you know exactly what he's thinking about.

"you shut up, too," you growl as your friend shoves two shots in your hands.

"to a valentine's day fuck!" your friend screams, her and mingi clinking their glasses together as you sit there completely unamused.

you take down the liquor with a sneer, your throat burning and you nearly vomit all over the bar. but then twenty minutes later, with the alcohol coursing through your veins and music blasting, you and your friends are dancing in the middle of the bar.

it's crowded tonight and there's far too many sweaty people but it's still fun. laughing with your friends as you spin and grind and jump around with no care in the world.

and for half that night, that's how it goes. just fun and carefree and tame until you feel a hand on your ass that you know isn't the one you're so used to because of it's size.

you snap your head back to see a short, stocky guy attempting to grind his hips on you. he's wobbling because you can tell he's absolutely gone, eyes glossy and forehead sweaty and you move closer to your friend who yells a slur of curses in his face.

"fuck off, i want your friend," he snaps at her and you give him a little shove.

"well, i'm not interested," you tell him, smacking his hand off before turning around to face your friend. "do you wanna get another-"

your words get cut off when your arm is nearly pulled from the socket, trapped between the wall and the man you just rejected.

"c'mon, babe, you're so pretty," he coos, running a clammy finger down your face and neck, about to circle your little bit of cleavage exposed, "i'll treat you-"

he's on the floor and away from you in a second, mingi putting himself between you both as he stands over the groaning boy. you can feel the anger radiating off of him, fists clenched and jaw ticking as he kicks him once in the stomach.

"don't fucking touch her," he growls, "i should break your god damn hand, you know that?"

he turns around to survey you, hand on your waist and concerned eyes roaming over your face.

"are you okay?" he asks and you see the fire behind his eyes.

"i'm fine," you say even though your racing heart has finally slowed and you still feel sick to your stomach at those intrusive hands on you, "just a drunk asshole."

"it doesn't matter," is all he spits, "he shouldn't have touched you."

and then he quickly turns back around, the man slowly getting up so he's not at all prepared for the punch the connects right into his nose.

"mingi, stop," you whine, "it's fine, you're gonna get us kicked out."

"so what, he can't just touch what's mine," he blurts out and your eyebrows shoot up because he's usually only saying that in his dominant sex crazed state.

but then you think you're letting your own feelings fill you with false hope, reading way more into this than you should. you let out a sigh, pulling him closer to you and looking up at him.

"it's fine now, you're here," you say softly because you just want him to calm down, "let's dance."

he bites his lip because he never dances in public but also can't risk someone else touching you against your will.

so that's exactly how you two find yourselves in a corner, grinding to the beat and forgetting that you're in a bar full of people.

your arms are looped around his neck, hands playing with his hair and his hands squeezing your hips lightly. your head falls against his chest when you feel him growing hard under you.

"big," you stupidly mumble out and he chuckles lowly, hand worming over a few inches below the button your jeans.

"for you, little one." his hips press further into yours, rubbing more purposefully against you, "always for you," he mumbles and you make the quietest moan in the back of your throat.

his hips and his voice and that god damn nickname have you dragging him into the bathroom, locking the single stall and pulling him down to crash your lips together.

he smiles against them because finally before picking you up, pressing you against the wall as you intertwine your legs around his hips.

both a little tipsy, it goes a lot sloppier than intended. he nearly stumbles over his feet and you slam your head against the concrete but you guys never break the kiss, tongues and teeth clashing as you moan loudly into one another's mouths.

"please fuck me," you whine into his ear, moving against him as you lick down his neck. he walks you over to the sink counter, quickly pulling down your pants and thong as you lean back and spread your legs for him to get a better look.

"that pussy," he groans as he pulls down his own pants, giving you his hand to spit on so he can wet his cock. he jerks it off a few times staring at your wetness, eyes finally moving to yours where he sees you sitting back patiently with glossy, dilated pupils and your teeth in your lip.

"please," you groan again and he rips you off the sink to put you on his cock, back up against the cold wall again and you tighten your hold around him.

it's fast and dirty and hard, skin slapping on skin that echoes throughout the tiny bathroom.

"oh, my god," you moan out loudly and he thrusts up once, deep into you.

"don't be so loud, i don't want anyone hearing you," he grunts out, "don't want anyone hearing what's mine."

even tipsy and horny and in the middle of being fucked out, you noticed he used that word again.

"i'm yours," you repeat quietly and he growls, fingers digging into your hips as he stills inside of you.

"what the fuck," you whine out, rocking your own hips against him but he's just staring into your eyes, chest heaving up and down like he's trying so hard to control himself.

"be mine," is what he grunts out and your eyes widen. despite the shock and confusion and your rapid heart picking up its pace, you still clench around him.

"what?"

"be mine. completely mine, officially," he says and you can't believe he's doing this now, with his cock buried inside you in a dirty public bathroom.

and as sick as it is, your answer is immediate. you don't even have to think about it.

"i always was, you idiot," you say, rocking yourself into him more, "now just fuck me."

and he has to meet your demands so the tears threatening to sting his eyes don't surface and make a mockery out of his reputation.

but it doesn't stop him from praising you, asking you to repeat if you're really his over and over again until you're both moaning in unison at your releases.

you lean your head against the wall, his resting on your shoulder as he's still inside you while you try to catch your breath. he takes you off his cock, pulling up your clothes before his own and looking down at you.

"did you really mean that?" is the first thing he asks and you furrow your eyebrows because is he that stupid?

"yes," you tell him and it's so matter of fact he finds himself wanting to blurt his next words out.

but he waits. waits until you guys leave the bathroom and say your goodbyes, waits while you guys hold hands in the uber and stumble in your apartment together.

and then when you both lay out on your couch, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply on the lips.

"i love you," he says, so soft and sincere and genuinely that tears almost spring to your eyes. "i love you and i'm so sorry it took me this long to realize."

you look at him in shock because you never would have dreamed this confession would be happening between the two of you. never would have dreamed of him looking at you with watery eyes and a terrified expression as he shows you his most vulnerable side.

"i know i've been stupid and obnoxious and sometimes just a fucking asshole but i promise if you let me explain-"

"i love you too," you say, cutting him off because it's as simple as that, "i thought it was fairly obvious but..."

and that's when the first tiny tear falls from his eye and his natural instinct is to quickly wipe at it because he's not used to crying in front of anyone.

but he wants to let that guard down, show you it's always been more than just sex and pleasure.

"y/n..." he says and you shake your head at him, softly smiling as tiny tears continue to leak from his eyes.

"you're an ugly crier," you tease, scooting over so you can wipe his wet face before pulling him into a hug. you're almost positive he doesn't let you go for a half hour, arms tight and warm around you as his head rests in the crook of your neck.

but you relish in the feeling because he's finally letting you see this side of him and while you love fucking his brains out, you also want to see him break down and show you any sort of deeper emotion.

"can i just ask you one thing?" you ask when he pulls back and he nods his head.

"anything, baby."

"why wouldn't you ever stay over?" you squeak out and the question alone causes anxiety to bubble up in you, "why would you always leave so soon after?"

he swallows the lump in his throat and intertwines your fingers together, thumb brushing over hand.

"because i knew this would happen, i knew you were it for me and that scared me," he tells you, "i knew if i held you and stayed with you and spent more time...i was gonna fall in love because how couldn't i," he muses and he's being so honest and raw that it's hurting your heart in the best possible way.

"i'm sorry that it hurt you, baby, i'm sorry for how much i hurt you and that i made you feel...shitty sometimes," he say, "but i promise i'm gonna be the best boyfriend i can be, okay? please-"

you cut him off with a kiss, pushing him back and jumping into his lap. it's like all your other kisses but also something incredibly new, passionate and loving and so so sweet that you have to rip yourselves off each other for air.

"I know you will," you tell him, pecking both of his cheek sweetly and smiling when you see a blush on his cheeks.

"look at that, you're a boyfriend for one whole minute and you're already blushing!" you squeal and then he really goes and giggles and you're shocked this giant baby ever had you so fooled.

he squints his eyes playfully at you, pushing you down on your back so he's holding himself above you and dipping down to meet your lips again.

"we'll see who's blushing in ten minutes, little one," he says and it's safe to say boyfriend mingi is just as talented as friends with benefits mingi.

except this time afterwards, he carries you in the bedroom and does all that aftercare nonsense he swore was annoying and stupid but is actually making him so stupidly happy. cleaning you up between your legs and taking off your runny makeup, worming his way to litter tiny pecks all over your clean face as you giggle against him before finally pulling you into his chest and smiling when you cuddle your:self deeper into him.

you fall asleep to a mantra of "i love you"'s, his hand trailing up and down your shoulder until the smell of burning food wakes you hours later.

and it's something you grow incredibly used to because only two weeks after that do you open your door to find mingi in the hallway, holding five boxes stacked on top of each other with the stupidest smile on his face.

"what's all this?" you ask him, standing on your tippy toes to grab two of them and placing it down in your living room.

"the rest of my stuff is in the car," he tells you matter of factly, pecking your nose with a kiss before looking at your confused expression.

"did i forget to mention i'm moving in?"

#mingi #mingi smut #mingi angst #mingi fluff #ateez #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #mingi fic #ateez fic

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 4 years

Text

F**k and Run

Inspired by the Liz Phair song of the same name. Such angst.

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC

Word count: 2,636

Content advisory: sexual references

I woke up alarmed/ I didn’t know where I was at first/ just that I woke up in your arms/ and almost immediately I felt sorry

This. Is. Not. Your. Room. It is not your bed. These are not your sheets. And that odd ochre shade of paint on the wall that greets you when you open your eyes, a color that seems like a projection of the hangover you’re feeling, is most definitely not your choice of decor. You can tell by the light streaming in from somewhere behind you that it’s morning but outside, someone is blaring WAP. That can’t be endearing them to the neighbors, whoever they are, and it’s certainly not making you feel any better because thinking about moving, bouncing, riding… It’s not what you want right now.

You can tell, though, that it was exactly what you were doing a few hours ago. You have all the pleasant aches that come from a lusty romp and as you cast your mind back, you realize that you’ve been in this room with its bright morning light and ugly paint before. You don’t need to roll over to confirm the identity of the warm body pressed close to yours because you can feel the fragments of the night shaking loose. This is a very mixed blessing.

You’d met up with Susan after you’d both gotten off work and headed to the Canopy Bar. No, under the circumstances, it wasn’t a great idea to hit a bar filled with people, many of whom were tourists and almost none of whom were wearing masks, but it had been ages since either of you had gone out and it was like your bones were aching for it. Besides, the hotel was miserable, with clients getting angry at having to sanitize hands and wear masks, while others got mad because the restaurant didn’t require people to have masks on while they ate. You and Susan had gotten your first vaccine and even though you knew you were supposed to wait until you got the second before re-entering the social world, impatience and youthful stupidity had taken over.

So the two of you ditched your work clothes and headed down the beach to the covered open-air bar that always seemed to mean a good time. They had heaters at the tables to disguise the fact that it was not exactly beach weather but after a couple of cocktails, it might as well have been the 4th of July.

You feel the body behind you shift a little, his face close to your hair. He gives a contented little sigh and slides one arm over your hip. His fingers press against a tender spot that you assume he made the night before, when he’d been digging into your flesh so hard, slamming into you as you rode him, that you thought he might break the skin. He’s still half asleep. At least half. When he wakes up, it’s going to be a different thing.

Kenny. You don’t need to look at him to picture that deceptively angelic face with its sparkling blue eyes, or his body that looks like it descended from Mount Olympus. And you certainly don’t need help remembering his name, which is more than you can say for him, which is, funnily enough, the thing that started the chain of events that ended with you back here again.

You’d spotted him with some friends at the bar, which seemed strange because you remembered from the first time you met him that he wasn’t a drinker. Like, at all. But he was clearly relaxed and enjoying himself, enjoying how he was so obviously the center of attention at his table, and in particular that he was the focus of a very beautiful, elegant woman seated directly across from him. One look and you knew he was on the make and you felt the bile rise in your throat because as far as you were concerned, you hadn’t finished the cycle of things between the two of you. There wasn’t actually anything sustained between the two of you, of course, but it definitely felt like there was something unfinished.

Whatever happened to a boyfriend?/ The kind of guy who tries to win you over/ Whatever happened to a boyfriend?/ The kind of guy who makes love ‘cause he’s in it

You’d met Kenny a little over a month ago at The Canopy Bar and the two of you had ended up going back to his place. And it had been good. Damn, it had been good. He’d been effusive with his praise and compliments and he’d been sweet as the two of you drifted off to sleep. When you’d woken up, he’d taken you to get coffee from a pick up wagon and the two of you had hung out and chatted about pet stories and his time in Japan, a place you’d dreamed about visiting for years.

Had you been thinking “relationship”? No. But it didn’t feel like a one night stand and god knows you’d gone through enough of those in the past couple of years to judge. You’d texted him a day or two later and suggested meeting up for a coffee at a place you liked and he’d responded within a couple of hours that he’d like that. You’d ended up setting a non-date date for the following week, which turned into you sitting at an outside table at the cafe for three hours. You’d tried texting and calling and had heard nothing. After about half an hour, you’d realized that you should leave and get on with the process of feeling resentful at being stood up. But you’d lingered because it didn’t feel like things were over. It felt like the night you’d spent together had been something a little bit special.

Of course, you hadn’t been so sad as to keep trying to contact him after he stood you up, but you felt the memory of what had happened sticking to you like nettles. You just hadn’t had the opportunity to do anything about it last night and what you’d done about it, powered by a few stiff cocktails and a sense of indignation was march up and sit down next to him.

“Well look who’s here,” you sneered, wanting him to know that he had some making up to do. “What the hell was with you no-showing?”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” he shrugged. “I was busy or something and I figured it wasn’t a big deal.”

“You know it’s considered polite to let someone know when you can’t make it to meet them.”

“Yeah, I guess that was shitty of me.” He gave a cheeky grin. “Sorry about that.”

He looked like he’s about to turn back to his friends and the doe-eyed beauty who looked a little too amused at how upset you obviously are, so you gripped his bicep to keep him focused on you.

“Seriously, what made you not show up? If you didn’t want to meet me, you could have just said so. Or you could have canceled.”

“I mean it, I’m sorry.”

He was infuriatingly nonchalant about this, which made you angrier than you had been when you came over. In fact, it seemed like he was getting a bit of a kick out of the fact that you were angry.

“This is Hikaru,” he said, motioning to the woman on the other side of the table. “Hikaru, this is… Shit, I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

You felt a surge of fury and humiliation mingled together, twisted with the fact that you could tell he was lying.

“Ha ha. You know my name.”

“No, really, I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten it.”

Even through your alcohol-fueled haze, you felt like you had a very clear grip on the moment. You could tell looking in his eyes that you were right: he knew perfectly well who you were and what your name was. But he was committed to the pretence that he didn’t. Maybe it was because he wanted to be left alone with this new girl. Maybe it was because you were making him nervous.

“Whatever,” you growled. “You can go fuck yourself.”

You made your way back to Susan and thought about running away with your tail between your legs but almost immediately dismissed the idea. To hell with that guy. You’d been having a good time before you saw him and you weren’t going to let him ruin that. You couldn’t start ceding public spaces to assholes. So you hit the dance floor with your friend and the two of you enjoyed the attention you generated, the eyes trailing over you, even the drunk college boys who tried their damnedest to be charming.

After a while, you were aware that someone was lurking nearby, close to you without trying to engage you, seemingly happy to dance by himself and lap up the attention he was getting. His friend Hikaru wasn’t with him, although you saw her a couple of times during the next couple of hours, always looking at him, always looking like she was waiting.

Finally, he was close enough that he leaned over and spoke directly into your ear.

“Guess I’m heading out. Thanks for the laugh, though, stranger.”

You whirled, half inclined to punch him in the nose.

“What the fuck is your problem? You think you can just be rude and act like that to me and it’s funny?”

“Ok, sorry, it was nice seeing you again.” He gave a little laugh and wiggled his eyebrows as he started to move away, his expression somehow inviting you to follow him.

Susan grabbed hold of your arm and tried to steer you away but you disconnected from her, assuring her that you just needed to say a few things to this jerk.

So you trailed after him, yelling some insults and waiting for him to hightail it. But every time you’d dragged your feet a little, he’d slowed down too.

“Ok,” he sighed as you stepped away from the bar and onto the beach, “you’re right, I remember your name. I was just being a shit.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Was that because you were trying to hit on Hikaru?”

“No. I think she has a bit of a thing for me.”

He started walking in the direction you remembered he lived in.

“You coming?” He called back, obviously loving how aggravated you were at his cockiness.

You almost felt bad/ you said that I should call you up/ but I knew much better than that

Finally, you roll over to look at him. He has his hand over his eyes to shield them from the light streaming in. The window is a semi-skylight built into the roof of the place. The light it gives is probably gorgeous when you’re not trying to sleep off a hangover. He gives you a tired smile without looking you in the eye and pulls you close to him for a few seconds.

“I have to get ready for work. Sorry about that.”

“No worries.”

He sits up and as he does, it occurs to you that he’s actively avoiding looking at you, like you’re going to turn him to a pillar of salt or worse.

“It was cool seeing you again,” he says quietly.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about the yelling and everything.”

“I deserved it.”

“Yes you did. But I’m sorry if it makes things awkward for you and your friends.”

You sit up, letting the bedcovers fall from your body as you survey the room for your hastily discarded clothes. Angry sex is disorderly sex and there are bits of you strewn around the place. It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s just standing at the top of the stairs leading down from his sleeping loft, watching you.

He makes as if he’s about to say something but it dies unspoken, so there’s just a long, strange look between you. And this time you’re absolutely certain that this does not feel like a one night stand, or a two night stand, for either of you. There’s an electricity that passes from his eyes to yours and back, the kind of thing that gives you butterflies in your stomach. The kind of thing that’s going to continue to bring butterflies when you think about it over the coming weeks or longer.

“I’m just gonna jump in the shower for a couple of minutes,” he says finally. “You want to have one?”

“No, I’m ok. I’ll just grab one at home.”

He nods and leaves and you wonder if you’re even supposed to be here when he gets back. You slowly gather up your belongings and get dressed, enjoying the little twinges you feel stretching your muscles out. Those make your stomach flip too.

You make your way downstairs, hoping that you can at least snag a cup of coffee before leaving but the second your feet hit the final few stairs to the ground floor, you wish you’d stayed in his room.

There are a few men milling around, a couple of guys with shaved heads and goatees, one of whom looks like a runaway extra from Sons of Anarchy. With them is an older, well-dressed man wearing sunglasses even though he’s in the house. You can’t decide if it’s just discomfort or if you genuinely dislike them at first sight. One thing is for certain, they seem unsurprised to see a woman appear from above.

“Hi,” you rasp, unsure if you’re supposed to introduce yourself or allow them to pretend you’re not there. It seems like they’d prefer the latter option. “Is there any coffee?”

“Yeah, kitchen,” the older man directs you thrusting his chin in the right direction.

You pour yourself a generous mug and decide that hiding out in the kitchen is the best plan for now. After a few minutes, you hear Kenny’s voice greeting the others, sounding just a little surprised that they’re there. They all seem boisterous and loud but you hear the voices drop for a second just before Kenny replies, “In the kitchen? Ok, just give me a minute.”

You gulp as much of your coffee as you can and square your shoulders so that you look more like someone who was just about to leave as he enters the room.

“Hey, sorry if they surprised you,” he offers sheepishly.

“No, it’s no problem. I helped myself to coffee, I hope that’s alright.”

“Oh, for sure. Take your time.”

“No, no, I was just leaving. I have a bunch of shit to do today.”

“Yeah, for sure, me too.” He pauses before giving you a quick hug, pulling back just at the moment that it feels he’s about to let himself melt into it. “So we should totally do that coffee date sometime.”

“Definitely. You know, whenever your schedule is…”

“For sure. I mean, I’ll call you.”

And as your awkward, staccato conversation stutters to a silence, your eyes meet again for a long moment and it’s like you’re both mourning for something that needn’t be as doomed as it is.

“Thanks for last night,” you tell him, as cheerfully as you can manage.

“Hey, thank you. It was great.”

He shows you to the door and leans in to press a kiss to your cheek as you step over the threshold. The gesture seems to hang in suspended animation, your faces pressed together and your lips resting on each other’s skin. But then the moment passes and it’s like the butterflies in your stomach rise and flutter away all at once into the bright morning sun.

I can feel it in my bones/ I’m gonna spend my whole life alone

#kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fanfiction #aew fanfiction #aew imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

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kidnappedbycartoons · 4 years

Text

Past, Present, Future (Ava X MC)

Notes: Hello, it’s the Ava simp here. I decided to write another Ava X MC fic because I’m not waiting for MC to make a choice, so I made one for her. Enjoy and let me know if I did them justice.

Pairings: Black!MC (Serenity) X Black!Ava

Word Count: 1,956

“Nice pictures, Serenity.”

I looked up from the photographs I held in my hand to find Mackenzie leaning on the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. A sense of pride filled my chest at her words. I finally found something that I enjoyed doing and everytime someone let me know that my photos were good, I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face.

“Thanks,” I went back to organizing my photos when Mackenzie spoke up again.

“Which ones are you going to put in your portfolio?” The bed dipped as she sat on it. “I mean, you have enough to fill an entire gallery.”

I chuckled at her exaggeration, but she did ask a good question.

“I don’t know, I don’t even know what theme I’m going for,” I dropped the pictures I was holding in my hand onto the bed, bringing my knee to my chest instead.

“Wouldn’t be the first time you didn’t know what to go for,” I threw my pillow at her, disappointed when she caught it.

She didn’t have to remind me of that. Working on the portfolio was the perfect distraction from my rollercoaster of a love life. But now, those three names popped into my head again. Mason, Ava, and Noah. Ava, Noah, and Mason. Noah, Mason, and Ava. Honestly, I was going to have a headache at this point. It’s about to be spring and I still can’t decide who I want to be with. And to make matters worse, I can see it on all of their faces. They’re all tired of me. I guess I would be too. I need to make a decision, but I just don’t know.

“Serenity!” I glanced up, coming face to face with a picture of Mason. “God, didn’t you hear me? I said this is a nice picture of Mason.”

I took the picture out of Mackenzie’s hands, eyes skimming over it. I remember when I took this picture. Mason and I had driven to the beach and he had looked so happy, so carefree, so much like the Mason I remember from childhood that I just had to capture that moment.

I’ve known Mason since we were kids. We were always attached at the hip, if you saw one, then you saw the other. Our families knew each other and we would always hang out at each other’s house. At the same time, I’ve been in love with Mason since we were kids. First love, I guess. He’s always been there to protect me, even from a fly. I never would’ve imagined that he felt the same way as well. I just wish it didn’t come out the way it did. It still stung whenever I remembered how Ava looked when Mason revealed he broke up with her to be with me. Yeah, Mason can do some stupid things sometimes, but I do too. I guess we’re just two peas in a pod.

“Wow, Noah doesn’t look too bad here,” Mackenzie held out the photo for me to take. Just a glance and I remembered when I took the picture. We had driven to the countryside and Noah had looked so free, so light, so handsome, that I just had to take a picture.

Noah was the one that shook everything up. I thought I knew what I wanted, but then he came along. Everyone told me to stay away from him, that he was dangerous, that he was a bad boy. But the more I got to know him, the more I realized those were all lies. Turns out, he’s one of the sweetest and kindest guys I’ve ever met. He’s always been so mature, so understanding, that I felt like I could just be myself around him. There were no expectations, no boundaries when it came to him. I was allowed to be myself, Serenity Price. Not that I didn’t feel that way with Mason, but sometimes I found myself thinking about our past so much that I guess I just stay there sometimes. I always heard the words that if you fell in love with two people, to always choose the second. Because if you really loved the first, you would’ve never fallen for the second one. Yet, I didn’t know what to do. Mason reminded me of the happy memories of the past and Noah was the one that helped me to live in the now.

“Now, if Ava doesn’t become a model in the future, I’m going to be upset,” Mackenzie held out the photo for me to take and I looked down at it. Yeah, I remember this day. We were laughing so hard in photography club and she looked so beautiful, so happy, so charismatic, I couldn’t stop myself from taking the picture.

If Noah shook everything up, Ava absolutely turned everything upside down. My whole life I thought I was into guys. I mean, I was into Mason after all. Even when we had first met I would’ve never thought that Ava was gay or that I might not be straight. But looking back, all the signs were there. The way my heart sped up whenever she would look my way, the disappointment whenever she missed school, the way I lingered too long with our hugs, the way I always made sure to see if she was laughing when I told a joke.

Funnily enough, that period when her and I weren’t talking to each other, was when I realized how much I missed her. Even though I was still talking with Mason and Noah, there was still an empty spot in my heart that only she could fill. Ava Lawrence. My best friend. The one who always stood up for me without a second thought, the one who always made sure to check on me, the one who always managed to make me laugh, and the one who always puts me first. I mean, she took herself out of this whole love square thing to help me out. Then again, maybe she didn’t want to wait around any longer. Regardless, she doesn’t hold it over my head. When I’m with her, I don’t even think about Mason or Noah. I can focus on her and her only.

“Did you forget how to blink or something?” I was jolted out of my thoughts by Mackenzine, who had a teasing grin on her face.

“Shut up,” I placed the three photos down, taking one last look at them. Mason, Noah, and Ava. Mason is my past, my childhood best friend and first love. Noah is my now, the one who pulled me out of my shell and showed me a whole new world. But Ava. Ava was...Ava is...Ava’s....

“I have to go!” I didn’t even wait for Mackenzine to speak as I bolted down the stairs to the front door. I didn’t even hear my dad yelling as I ran past him. I needed to do something first.

________________________________________________________________

I stood in front of the door, my throat suddenly feeling tight and my hands sweating. But I had to do this. I needed to. Raising my fist, I knocked on the door. I needed to do this. I needed to.

She opened the door and I was left breathless. She was clearly getting ready to go to sleep, a bonnet on her head and her face now makeup free. Despite this, she still looked like a goddess that came to bless us with her existence. She always did.

“Serenity, what are you doing here?” She tilted her head, almost like a puppy as she looked me up and down. “In your pajamas?”

“It’s you.” I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to, the words just fell out. “It’s you I want, Ava. Not Mason or Noah. It’s you. I always thought I was straight, I mean, I was in love with Mason for years. But it’s always been you. You’re the one. When I found out you and Mason were dating, I was heartbroken because I wanted him. I did. But at the same time, I knew you could do better. I knew you deserved better. And I didn’t know if it was because I wanted Mason for myself or if I wanted you for myself. I didn’t know!”

I took a deep breath and continued. “When we weren’t speaking, I hated it. I hated it so much! Even though I was hanging out with Mason and Noah, it wasn’t the same. My heart still didn’t feel complete. It was empty. Empty! I thought I was missing you as a friend, I really did. But then we made up and something still didn’t feel right. Everytime I was around you, my heart started going crazy. I wanted to hug you, to kiss you, to do all sorts of things with you. But you were with Chad and I knew you didn’t deserve me, I mean I was a mess with Mason and Noah. But then homecoming and then everything and...I thought...maybe we could. Maybe. But then Bayla came along.”

I looked down at my feet, my slippers looking back up at me. “I should’ve been happy for you. But I’m not. I’m not. My heart broke when I saw you and her together. And I knew I didn’t deserve to feel that way, considering how indecisive I’ve been and how selfish I’ve been. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not putting you first. I’m sorry for taking so long. I’m sorry for letting you slip through my fingers like this. But it’s you I want. And I know it’s too late. But it is. It’s you, Ava.”

I didn’t even realize I was crying till I felt Ava’s fingers wiping the tears away. The tightness in my throat, in my chest, was too much. I felt like I was going to explode with each gentle brush of her fingers. Finally, she wrapped me in her arms and I felt myself melt into her. She held me so tight that I thought I was going to break. Or maybe I already did. I don’t know. But it felt good. I felt warm, comfortable, and full.

She pulled away from me and it was only then that I noticed the redness in her own eyes and the tears staining her cheeks. Great. Just great. I made her cry. Like I needed another reason to hate myself.

“Serenity, Bayla and I broke up,” Was she crying because I reminded her of Bayla? I didn’t even know they broke up. I mean, I’m happy. Is that bad? That is.

“I’m sorry…” I turned around, the cold air finally hitting me. “I should go. I...I’m sorry.”

“Did you mean it?”

I turned around to find Ava standing there, her beautiful face wet from tears and her shoulders slouched. The look in her eyes was, hopeful. I’ve never seen her look so vulnerable.

“Yes.” The second the word slipped out my lips, I felt something lift off my shoulders. For the first time, in a long time, I felt light. I felt right.

I don’t know how she got to me so fast, but all I know is that one second my lips were mine and the next second they were her’s. I placed my hands on her waist, pulling her flush against me as I felt her hands drift up, placing themselves behind my neck. Something about this kiss was different than the ones with Mason and Noah. It felt...fulfilling, like we were two puzzle pieces who fit together. And that’s when I knew. Mason was my past, Noah was my now. But Ava. She’s my future.

#my two first loves #choices mtfl #ava lawrence #mtfl ava #playchoices #choices stories you play

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a-collection-of-villainous-aus · 4 years

Text

Coffee Shop au part four

(Segment one of three)

If I forget to tag something important please tell me.

(Present day)

(Small warning Acylius does use those he tortures for food for other demons and non mortal creatures to consume so if you have a problem with that then um just keep scrolling I guess ^^; )

What was this…that strange feeling of disappointment at seeing Black Hats chair being vacant; after all he’d only been there twice so it was not as if he was a regular customer, especially as they’d only been open for two days.

Why should the old demon stay until closing time anyway, just because he did it on the first day didn’t mean he’d do it again today, he had no reason to stay…Black Hat had been rather forward though, kissing him like that, not that he was complaining but , he wasn’t one to just play around and be used.

Friends with benefits was one thing, at least you knew where you both stood, and yet still, why did it feel so familiar, an old dream perhaps, after all who didn’t at least have one wet dream about the great Black Hat doing sordid things to your body right.

Especially with tentacles, while wearing priest robes.

Yes he had his kinks, but damn you if you tried to shame him for them.

He huffed, shoulders going slump, no this was ridiculous , feeling sad just because that idiot of a Gremlin just upped and left without so much as a good bye, Hat didn’t owe him anything and he didn’t owe Hat anything either.

Clearly he was crazy, he had finally fucking lost it, thinking of The Great Lord Black Hat owing him a good bye and a kiss on the cheek as if they were lovers, he’d just met the bastard.

No he needed to either relax or worry if the destroyer of worlds was going to ruin his café that’d he’d always wanted with his mischievous downright evil antics.

Acylius was currently grinding up their latest victim, a man who’d been abusing Nicodemus’s workers (don’t worry if you don’t know who that is I won’t be bringing him into this unless I need him for like filler scenes)

Body parts in neat piles on the counter top, ‘pork’ pies were on the menu tomorrow, this was Black Hat’s island so even the people knew some places the menu would cater to demons so if they saw the chalk was in red they knew it was demon cuisine, though of course there was always the daring person who’d ask for it anyway in which a waiver definitely had to be signed.

Hey, wasn’t going to be Acylius’s problem if they decided to off themselves on food that probably wasn’t for human consumption.

This particular man had been a pig and he was serving sow next week.

Vile beings needed to meet a vile end.

This was going to be a long night, he could manage though, at best he could manage on two nights of sleep during the week.

Currently the head of the meat sack was animated and still alive, the man was so far gone he’d reached that point of acceptance that this was happening and nothing could be done, so seeing his body being prepped for pastries and such was more amusing than anything.

“I’m a Legion demon Jake, that’s your name right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, anyway as I was saying I’m a Legion demon in this day and age that means nothing to most unless you are perhaps ancient or still follow the old ways, I have nothing to offer thee Great Lord Black Hat.”

Jake watched as the demon deboned, removed a hand and of his shaved one of his arms before washing it down to make sure all the hair was gone before slapping it into the mince meat maker.

“Last I heard your kind was like some kinda lucky charm right dude?”

“Yes, but he does not need that from me, if we did anything he would be interested in me for all of five minutes and bail, he is all shadows and darkness, I will literally spend weekends in my boxers eating cheese puffs if the week has been hard enough, hardly a turn on for someone like Black Hat.”

Acylius snapped while working on another piece.

“I dunno, some beings like to see their partners being able to feel that chill around them, but hey that’s just my jam you know, anyway stop whining, this guy is old as shit right, you don’t know, your Legion demon shit might actually put a huge boner in his pants.”

Jake taunted, smirking as he watched his killer bristle up, oooo hooo sensitive much.

You know those scenes in anime’s where the other character suddenly gets really tall, shadows where their eyes should be and their hair seems to just be blowing in the wind and there’s that broken glass sound sometimes.

That’s Acylius’s reaction as his mouth turns into a ground out grin that’s splitting wider and wider along where the scars are, ironically that injury is the reason he can smile this wide now when the demon in him starts to show.

Jake was going to die, he was already he dead he knew it so why not torment him just a little more and get it over with

“Awww no I know what it is baby demon, you want a daddy you can suckle on and-

Acylius brought the meat tenderiser down on Jake’s head repeatedly until there was only pulp left, brain matter and blood were splattered across his apron with a few deep scarlet streaks going across his cheek, how brightly the red stood out against the snow white skin.

He was staring at the mess he’d made, panting softly, pupils thin and biting his lip, alright maybe he’d enjoyed that a little too much, he frowned though when he saw the pies had been covered to, well perhaps they would still be salvageable.

Scraping the remains of the head into the bin marked biohazard he pulled the bag out and set it down getting rid of other pieces he no longer required, tomorrow non human waste disposal would be picking up the remains anyway.

Demencia had caught the show and was leaning on the door.

“Looks like you got a little too into that Lulu, sure you don’t want to tenderise me on the surface.”

(NOTE, Acylius’s nick name Lulu was made last year in November 2019 because my friend had trouble pronouncing his name, so I tried to think of a name that he’d only let close friends and loved ones call him and that’s where that comes from, not Helluva boss, just thought I’d point that out as there’s a Lulu world and Loo Loo land)

“Not now Demencia, I’m not in the mood for your jokes.”

Acylius ran his fingers through his hair, regretting it once he remembered oh yeah covered in blood; a shower would definitely be needed before bed.

“Ah I see, so the head got sassy huh?”

Flug, because yes reminder Acylius is Doctor Flug, paused at the backdoor and pouted

“Might have, he also said some very offensive words that I did not appreciate.”

Demmy folded her arms, shaking her head and smiling

“Well you showed that head who’s boss, now hurry up binch I want my cookies and hot chocolate, it’s late.”

Flug lovingly gave her the finger as he walked out the door while telling her she had two hands she could do it herself.

The back alley was dimly lit, not that he couldn’t see or choose to focus his vision to see clearer but sometimes it was nice just to appreciate light that softly glowed and curled around corners to take in the world in all different ways and settings…oh he missed rain, there hadn’t been any in nearly two months now, he missed how things glowed, street lamps became brighter and car lights so red and vibrant against the grey trailing along winding roads of shimmering black.

Perhaps it would soon when the snow had melted, he’d go for a long drive and listen to the rain hitting the roof of his car, patting against the windows, listening to the quiet tick, tick, tick of the vehicle when he switched on the indicator.

Yeah just drive out the middle of nowhere, strip down and run in the rain or just let it soak into his clothes as his breath streamed out in wispy clouds…

Ears twitching he heard a late party of drunks making their way home, he watched them pass by, they were completely unaware of him, if he were perhaps a rabid sort of demon they would be easy pickings, but that was not his game, at least not tonight, there was no scent that told him a wrong doing had been done, just a group of friends heading home for bed.

Snow had fallen in the tracks left by the bustling day life of the people around here and now in the silence he wondered was he lonely, Demencia’s offers had sometimes had been all too tempting simply out of need for comfort and to be close to someone, sometimes it seemed she needed it just as much as he did when they’d just lean on each other and complain about their day.

Looking up he found someone watching him from the shadows, well more saw a pair of eyes, completely yellow, no white to be seen, oranges and reds, as if he were looking at the sun, shivering as a breeze rolled through he pulled down his sleeves, goose bumps rising, a tingling down his spine, just the little things that reminded him he was alive, he was not afraid of what lingered in the shadows, there was no sense of danger.

Perhaps they were a Legion fan , someone caught off guard by his appearance, after all Flug knew his scars could be quiet unsettling to some people…though come to think of it he did sense an air of fear about this being, still they were wide and unmoving.

Really the sensible thing to do would be to just go inside and ignore this creature, yet something kept him there a longing to talk to it, placing the garbage into the bins he smiled just a little

“You know stranger, you remind me of someone…someone I feel like I should know.”

Acylius’s ears lay flat as he heard them softly whimper, it sounded so sad.

“I am sorry, I was not being offensive I assure you, this person I speak of was very kind, at least he was in the dream, I dreamt when I was little , funnily enough a night like this, Mother had locked me out…”

He held one hand in the other looking at them, fingers curling around his thumb

“My fingers were so cold and red I could barely feel them, or the rest of myself to be honest…heh you probably do not want to hear the tired ramblings of an out of date demon.”

“No, please continue.”

There was silence again, that whispered voice, it comforted him, made him feel at ease, this indeed truly was a strange day.

“Mother had locked me out, I didn’t cry or beg her to let me back in, I knew she would not open the door, so I laid down cheek to the snow, despite being almost numb my face burned, my face…”

Tracing along his scars as he recalled the moment could not help but wince

“I had to be careful still they had barely healed by that point, but I remember how good the cold felt on them, red and angry they seemed to only be satisfied when pressed to the freezing earth, I knew that night or at least believed I was going to die and…I was alright with that until I saw a pair of eyes just like yours.”

Acylius took a step forward only stopping when he saw this being step back

“They were gold, I thought they were so beautiful , I thought maybe the angels we were told about were not so bad if they could come for something like me, his claws hands reached down for me but I didn’t see his face, all I heard was that I was coming home with him and his name…his name was…”

Acylius held his head in his hands, scrubbing them down his face

“His name was Cruentus.”

When he looked back at where the eyes had been there was only darkness, the demon in the dark had disappeared so quickly he wondered for a moment if they’d even been there.

No, nope, nope, that dream was not real, that being was not Cruentus, it was all coincidence and he was just exhausted, yes that was it, perhaps he should sleep tonight, or maybe he’d snacked on too much of Jake while he was working, or had too many sugary treats either way, it was pies in the fridge and off to bed.

Opening the back door he locked it behind him, ignoring the fact Demencia was chomping on one of the pies, after all she knew what was in them if she wanted to eat it that was up to her, his mind was elsewhere.

“Mmmm you tenderized this one good, Legs, nice and juicy.”

Usually her friend would react to that name, at least grunt or gently nudge her and tell her not to call him that, something was clearly bothering Acylius.

“Legs?”

Demencia asked gently, placing a hand on his shoulder, only for him to turn and pick her up by the front of her shirt, snarling as he did so

“Do not call me that name!”

Looking down at him, Demencia could really see something wasn’t right here, was he remembering something to do with that name, like it had always annoyed him, but that glare, the disheveled hair and fangs all bared …honestly in another situation he would be hot as fuck…alright she was already thinking he looked hot as fuck but this was not the time or place.

Touching Acylius’s face lightly, she watched as his ears flicked, his breathing was ragged, his eyes returning from being solid blue to having pupils and irises again, her hands were warm and comforting and he found himself leaning into them, lips pressed against her palm…she was there to ground him in his bad moments and he could never thank his friend enough for that.

“You mind setting me down you tree.”

Demencia laughed softly.

He carefully set her back down and pulled her in for a hug

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I would never hurt you, never.”

Nuzzling against his chest and wrapping her arms around him, patting his back

“Hey, hey now, none of that you dumb tree, I know you have gaps in your memory, did you remember why do you don’t like that name?”

“Hate, I don’t just dislike that name, I hate it…all I can hear is someone called Vincent and they make me curl up and die, I have no face only a voice, if I ever heard it…I would know…”

Flug was quiet, taking in just how small she was against him, reminding him how small most were against him like this, his talons formed, slowly stroking her hair, playing with the fuchsia overlay, down to her neck where it faded to lime green, such an interesting choice of colours to wear in ones hair.

“You already know I just appeared back into existence, as if the world itself birthed me, I was somewhere forgotten…and seeing Black Hat today, I think…no it is a stupid notion to think he could see me as anything.”

He kissed the top of her head, thankful that she had not let go, Demencia was the one being who never seemed to be afraid of him, who he knew he could trust and rely on in these moments where memories were trying to break through the surface and suffocated when they could not make it.

“I am a Legion demon, no more than a trinket in the end, I am a nothing in his world and I am okay with that, I have a nice peaceful life and a coffee shop just like I always wanted…”

He sat with her on the counter, as she sat on one of his thighs

“This is just a hug, you don’t need more right?”

Demmy enquired, slightly hopeful because who didn’t want to climb him, honestly, he was an idiot for not seeing he didn’t need to be some grand demon to be wonderful.

“Yes, just a hug…I wish I could say I grew up in a loving home with Christmases like in the movies, that I could tell you my life’s story, talk about a time I scraped my knee when I was small and had a mother who put cute cat plasters on me just because I like cats.”

She listened and let him stroke her hair, it’d always calmed him to pet soft things, so perhaps she might use shampoos that were just a little pricier than she’d usually buy simply to make sure her hair was soft for these broken moments no one else saw.

Even though he was not sobbing, made no notion he was crying, the damp warmth on her shoulder told her otherwise.

“I want to tell you the times my Father took me for ice cream, my first kiss with the person I fell in love with, something…anything, but there’s nothing there.”

She listened attentively until he had nothing left to say, carefully taking his hand from her scalp; Demencia held his face and looked at him

“Damn Sillyus, they really did send you back with nothing more than a leaflet.”

“I suppose, but I have so much to thank you for, when you found me on that street, I only remembered enough to get by, to survive, but you helped me to settle into this time and be a part of the modern world.”

Acylius kissed her forehead before pressing his to hers, eyes closed as he whispered

“I’m so tired of being lost, of being unsure of what I am, who I am, I just want to bake, make coffee and kill people in my basement, I think fortune smiled on me for a moment when you found me, I think I might just give you the world if you asked.”

“Awww come on dude, sounds like a love confession here, I have bills to pay off and knew there was a darker side in me, you’re the Sweeny to my Lovett.”

She teased fondly, lightly smacking the back of his head, smiling as he managed a laugh

“I guess I could agree platonically with that.”

“But honestly Slender Man, babe if you wanted to plant your tentacles and leave your seed in me I wouldn’t say no.”

Acylius rolled his eyes and shook his head, using a tea towel to wipe his face

“Honestly woman you are bloody hopeless.”

“Yeah but you love me all the more for it.”

She grinned punching him playfully on the shoulder

“Perhaps I do, but I am not as hot as you like to say I am, I hide my face, I hate when people look at my scars and pity me.”

Demmy raised a brow and climbed off of his leg, flicking his forehead

“I know you like to hide your face behind glamour and tricks but you’re beautiful even if you don’t see it dumbass, I’m starting to wonder what the fuck happened outside that had you coming back in as if someone stole your last apple crown and there’ll never be another one again on the face of the planet.”

She put the kettle on and took out the upside down pineapple cake; this was definitely a cake and tea situation

“First of all, do not say such blasphemous things, life would not be worth living without apple crowns, second of all…I think, I know I said there’s nothing there but I think I might have had a memory about my childhood involving Cruentus.”

Demencia nearly dropped the mug she was holding, setting it down she turned to face him

“Holy fucking shit, you mean thee fucking Cruentus, Hellhound butler, Hell Knight, works for the brooding clearly wants you to nail his ass Black Hat, that Cruentus…ahh I hear he has eyes like the fucking sun.”

Acylius gave her a deadpan look, hands on hips as he stood, looming over her, trying to look seriously only for it to falter

“You Demmy are just horny on main.”

“So what if I am? Gonna call me a slut like my last partner?”

She swatted away his playfully prodding hand.

“No, I never understood why it’s perfectly fine for men to have as many partners as they wish but seen as something terrible when a woman just wants to enjoy her life the same way, society is mad…also no more jokes on Black Hat you wicked beastie.”

Demencia would be lying if she didn’t admit his ability to shift from one mood to the other sometimes made her head spin, but it was clear he’d needed that moment to talk, shrugging she turned back to the kettle

“Alright, alright I’ll behave at least for now, I mean it’s clear the big bad doesn’t want you, how could he possibly want you…even though anyone with eyes could see he kept checking you out and every single coffee you brought him in hopes your stupid number was on it somewhere.”

Demencia couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at his sounds of huffing and frustration and heard him sit at the table, she did know there was stories, legends really by this point of Cruentus having a son, but you literally had to pour through footnotes and any books that might have had more information had been removed from shelves and privatized under the order of Black Hat himself.

End of segment one

(I'll try and type up segment two tomorrow)

#Paperhat #Platonic paperlizard #Mild cannibalism #villainous #Villainous au #Blood #Gore #Coffee shop #Present day

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.4

Learning to Breathe

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?) Word count: 2600

Summary: You must get on the road so things finally start moving. One little thing tho - you really need some clothes of your own. ...yay?

Warnings: swearing, amnesia, Dean being Dean being themselves

The briefest guide to SPN characters of Team Free Will (at the end of the post)

Story masterlist

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You grew tired of staring at the screen after a while. There was so much information to look up, but you didn’t even know what you should be looking for. You had to mentally confirm Dean’s earlier words – brains were weird, like really freaking weird. You couldn’t remember your favourite drink or food or the reality of soulmates. On the other hand, you knew how to operate a tablet and what the Internet was. The names Natasha and Ryan popped up in your mind with no obvious reason, Rogers downright striking something in you.

You wondered if any of those had to do something with your soulmate; your mind always ended up with him (and you were ninety percent sure they were a ‘he’), still fascinating you.

You shut the tablet down and eyed the couch. You knew you weren’t tired enough to fall asleep, your brain was too frantic for that, not to mention you had been sleeping (read dead, apparently), so you had your fill, but you didn’t have too many options. Your feet itched to take a walk, but you resisted – Sam had been right, you couldn’t just walk, less so in the middle of a night. The alarm on a nightstand read 4 a.m. You had no clue when Sam and Dean were usually getting up.

You didn’t know the men and their behaviour was puzzling you. They seemed to have never met you before, yet they were inclined to help you – with no outlook for a reward. God only knew why they were doing what they were and maybe quite literally the God. Castiel claimed to an angel after all. They had spoken of monsters. Who the hell were these guys?

It was hard to doubt their words – with little knowledge and unreliable sources on the internet, there was neither confirming nor denying their words. Then again, seeing Castiel just vanish into a thin air was pretty convincing.

You felt a headache starting to build up and decided to lie down on the couch at least, not even daring to hope for getting a shut-eye.

You were out in no time.

Gentle voice of a man you couldn’t remember guided you into the dreamland while whispering senseless words; there was one though that struck something deep inside you, making you jolt awake with a gasp and a faint pleasant taste on your lips.

“Doll…” the soft sigh followed you to full consciousness, echoing in your ears, tingling your spine.

“Morning, Natasha,” a different male voice greeted you and you yelped, spinning its direction, memories of yesterday events flooding your brain.

The tall long-haired man standing in the bathroom door was Sam and the man sitting on the bed, looking like he just woke up, short hair sticking in every direction and expression utterly confused, was Dean.

“S-sam,” you stuttered, your mind elsewhere.

Doll. Doll.

It definitely sounded like an endearment. A pet-name. The man’s voice was laced with emotions, gentle and warm, powerful and tender. You knew him. You must have known him, his name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to roll off and yet no sound came out when your lips parted. You blinked several times, chasing your dream, unable to add neither a name nor a face to the voice.

Your chest tightened, making it hard for you to breathe in, an inexplicable fear squeezing your lungs, sudden tears gathering in your eyes.

“Natasha?” Sam’s voice sounded from distance, strangely muffled. “Natasha? What’s wrong? Can you hear me?”

Your eyes automatically snapped up when a gentle hand appeared on your shoulder; Sam’s face was blurry, making you blink the salt droplets away.

Then, as if someone snapped their fingers, the suffocating feeling vanished and you welcomed the change with a fierce inhale.

“Natasha?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you panted. “I’m fine. I’m okay. Sorry to scare you first thing in the morning,” you tried to smile at him, probably failing.

He gave your shoulder a hesitant squeeze, his green-brown eyes mirroring concern. He exchanged a glance with Dean, who seemed way more awake than a minute ago.

“You good, kid?” he threw at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

Kid? Fire Princess? Sweetcheeks? What would come next? The ‘doll’ one? You hoped not.

Funnily enough, the addressing brought you back to reality better than anything else, your mind set straight; well, as much as it could be when you still didn’t know your own name.

Dean behaviour towards you was different than Sam’s and you couldn’t tell whether you liked better or not – it was just… different. And it ignited a spark inside you.

“I’m good, dad,” you hummed back, raising one corner of your lips, this time succeeding.

“Looks like she’s alright,” Dean smirked at Sam and the taller man rolled his eyes.

“It was just… a strange dream. It was probably nothing,” you explained, which caused Sam to finally release you. You found yourself missing the soothing weight of his hand and wondered what it said about you.

“Okay. We should get something to eat and get on the road. Dean?”

“Food. Coffee. Then think,” the man explained, making you chuckle. You stomach growled in agreement, blood rushing to your cheeks at that.

“Sounds good.”

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Running the facial recognition brought no results, much to Sam and Dean’s annoyance. It was ‘all quiet at Castiel’s front’, which was a statement you didn’t quite understand, but you assumed the expression was a private joke.

In other words, you had no clue who you were besides your soulmarks, the made-up name and a pleasant male voice following you from your dreams – not that you shared that with either of the brothers.

The name on the other hand….

“Uhm…” you started intelligently, as Dean and Sam were finishing their coffee (and yours, because you found out that coffee was not quite your thing), catching their attention. “I looked up some names common in the US and… uhm, Rogers-“

“Okay. That’s cool. Common enough, not too obvious like Smith. Good choice, Nat.” Dean glanced at you briefly. “You don’t mind being called Nat, right? ‘Cause I will call you that, it’s shorter.”

You blinked, confused. Huh? What did Dean mean? “Good choice…?”

“Well, yeah. We need to make you an ID. We should be heading to the bunker…” Dean mumbled absently, staring into the cup as if he wished there was more of that disgusting liquid.

“ID? Like… a fake one? You can do that?!”

They could make a fake ID? Seriously, who were they? Was Dean and Sam even their real names? You tried not to panic, because they had been nothing but kind to you, seemingly genuine and honest, but… but.

“You need to have one. We could just drop you at a police station and call it a day, but we think it’s better if you stay with us. For that, you need an ID,” Sam hurried to explain and you honestly didn’t know how to react.

You didn’t like the idea of lying about your identity to anyone, then again, you couldn’t remember your actual identity and apparently had been brought back from the death, so you were out of options so to speak.

“Okay,” you sighed, ignoring the unpleasant knot in your stomach. “You talked about… a bunker?”

Which didn’t sound ominous at all. Or creepy. Nope.

What did they do for living again?

“Yeah. It’s our base of operations.”

“For?” you urged Sam, your shoulders tense. Here it came; the fearsome reveal of the truth. Sam sighed and eyed you warily, as if agreeing with your unspoken thoughts.

“This is gonna sound crazy… but the unhuman things we talked about? We hunt them. We are finding strange crimes all over the country and go there to investigate them, finding the ‘cause’, which usually is some kind of a… monster….”

“And you kill the monster,” you finished breathlessly, feeling your heart jump to your throat.

Wow. Wow. You had no idea what to say to that announcement. There was no doubt Sam wasn’t lying. Why would he even make up such thing? They were killing monsters… things that were hurting people. It was unimaginable, incredible and impossible to wrap your head around, but strangely, it kinda…. made sense.

It only meant one thing.

“So… you’re heroes,” you exclaimed breathlessly, astounded.

The brothers stared at you blankly, frozen at your words.

What? What did you say wrong? They couldn’t be offended at that, right?

Dean chuckled and patted your shoulder. “Thanks, kid. I wish more people saw it this way…”

“Oh,” you paused, your mind racing. Right. They were able to make fake IDs. They probably didn’t have the jurisdiction to do what they did. And they were probably impersonating police officers of something like that to ‘investigate’, which meant they were technically outlaws. The revelation should give you creeps… but somehow, it didn’t. Knowing the truth actually calmed your nerves. It probably had everything to do with the fact that knowing anything at all was better that knowing nothing – which seemed to be the standard for you now. “Right. Your lives must be peachy. Thanks for having me nevertheless.”

Now you most definitely broke them, didn’t you? They looked like you broke them. Dean’s expression was wary as he stared at you blankly and you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“That’s it?” he asked, his green eyes looking like seeing the bottom of your soul. Ha! Was that a thing? Could he see your soulmate there?

Never mind…

“Uhm… yeah?”

Dean turned to Sam who was watching you with equally weirded out expression on his face and met Dean’s gaze as the shorter brother spoke up again.

“I love her.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that, but you recognized he wasn’t exactly confessing his undying love to you. Yet, you couldn’t deny that both brothers seemed happy about your reaction. It was strange, but all of what they were apparently doing, the way they lived… it didn’t feel that unreal.

For all you didn’t remember about your life and the world in general, you couldn’t help a distant feeling that there was a certain level of insane you should be used to.

Momentarily, you were grateful for that, because otherwise accepting all of this madness might actually cause you to fold like a house of cards. Instead, you just shrugged when Sam looked at you, relieved.

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Breakfast absolutely was the most important meal of the day for Sam and Dean. You spent almost an hour with it, but you couldn’t complain – they fed you, they clothed you (though the way they did was beginning to be a problem, people stared and you didn’t really feel comfortable wearing that), they were patient with you not knowing shit… . You didn’t want to be too much of a burden to them; there wasn’t much you could pay them back with. At least not yet.

You were in the town of Clayton in Ohio. You somehow understood that it was in the United States, you knew there was such thing, but you were glad to have it shown in a map – not that it told you much. The names of towns and cities didn’t remind you of anything. Nothing seemed familiar.

It sucked.

Apparently, the famous bunker Dean had mentioned was in Lebanon, Kansas, which was about a 13-hour drive. You were horrified, but once again kept your mouth shut, knowing very well that you had no right to say a word besides ‘thanks’.

You obediently climbed on a backseat of a fancy black car, not forgetting to compliment it instinctively. Dean flashed you a pleased grin, patting his ‘Baby’ on the roof before taking the wheel.

Funnily enough, he pulled over after what could be five minutes, earning himself your puzzled gaze. Huh? Sam seemed equally confused until he looked outside, nodding and catching your eye in the rear-view mirror.

“So, Natasha… ready to do some shopping?”

You weren’t; apparently, Dean wasn’t either, because he excused himself, taking a beeline with the car to get gas and left you alone with slightly uncomfortable Sam.

“I… I promise that when you manage to… help me get on my feet anyhow, I’ll pay you back,” you said quietly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip.

Sam quickly fixed his expression, his face inviting once more. It made you feel worse. He was suffering just like his finances… wait, how did they get finances? People didn’t pay them for what they were doing, were they?

“Don’t worry about that. I’m just wondering if I’m the right person to help you with shopping.”

You chuckled at that, imagining Sam carrying tens of shopping bags.

“I won’t need much, Sam. In fact, I wouldn’t need anything really-“

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head, his long hair swaying around his head. It was cute. “You need your own clothes. Dean’s too big and… his wardrobe is not exactly for women.”

“Well, I probably should merge with the crowd, right? And you’re the only crowd I know, so…” You looked around the shop, a slow smile spreading on your face when you found what you were looking for. You held up a female plaid shirt, clearly surprising Sam if his confused expression was anything to go by. “What do you think?”

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Shopping wasn’t terrible; you only picked necessities, blushing like a tomato (did you like tomatoes?) when you headed to certain department Sam didn’t dare to follow you to. You didn’t bother with cosmetics – you could use theirs and as far as you were concerned, you didn’t need the particular set of supplies for women just yet.

It took you only half an hour, Dean already waiting in front of the shop in his Chevrolet, lightly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in a catchy tune. He grinned a boyish smile when he saw you, not at all bothered by your presence and continued enjoying the music from the radio. He was downright adorable.

Two men built like rocks who hunted monsters for living and you both found them cute within an hour. They were incredible goofballs. You loved it.

“Look at you, all in plaid and yet looking like a woman,” he hummed and your cheeks coloured in intense red.

“Dean, shut up,” Sam scolded him, eyebrows furrowing as he circled the car and took the shotgun seat.

“What?” Dean complained, turning his palms up. “That was a compliment.”

“It was accepted,” you assured him and smiled at both him and Sam, which caused the driver gesture towards you as if he was saying ‘see?’ to Sam – he only rolled his eyes in response.

“You don’t mind music, do you?”

“Not at all,” you replied to Dean, not even considering a different answer. Even if had been annoyed at it, you sure as hell wouldn’t say.

“I might actually love you, Nat,” Dean threw over his shoulder, staring the engine. “Oh and we’re not heading to the bunker. I found us a case-“

A case? As in… a monster case?!

“We already have a case!”

“It’s witches, Sammy. I couldn’t ignore that.”

You caught Sam’s expression in the rear-view mirror, his nose scrunched in disgust, which spiked your interest despite the worries twisting your gut.

“Oh God, I hate those.”

“As do I, Sammy, as do I,” Dean agreed grimly. “It’s in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Oh and Garth agreed to make Nat an ID and deliver it to Bedford, which is on our way.”

Your lips parted in silent shock. What? That fast? Who was Garth? Also… just how much Dean managed to do while Sam was playing your walking wallet?

“Good. Thanks for taking care of that.”

“Thanks,” you echoed Sam’s words, too taken aback to speak out loud. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Sure thing, Nat. Sure thing. Now let’s get this show on the road.”

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Part 5

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Heya, lovlies!

I’m not posting another chapter for at least a week, because life, but I hope tha wait will be worth it. We’re gonna take a step back and see how Steve has been doing and how spy!Natasha is onto something. Thank you for reading!

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Tags: @cxptain @smilexcaptainx , @murdermornings @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall @eliza5616 @rayofdawnworld @victor-criss-bish @skychild29 @elysianecho @simmisblog @scentedsongrebel @orions-nebula, @sergeantrosabellaswan @songofcosplay, @ilovesupersoldiers @wxstedhexrt @silver-winter-wolf @guardian-tn @janieavalos @vxidnik, @patzammit , @annathesillyfriend @maravderofthephoenix

Anyone wants in or out, shoot me a message or an ask :)) It’s (usually) no problem ;)

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

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Ian Mathers’ 2020: We’re stuck inside our own machines

I’ve had a song I loved in high school and haven’t thought much about since stuck in my head. The song “Apparitions” by the Matthew Good Band is a fine example of the alt rock of the late 90s; if you grew up then but somewhere down in the states (or elsewhere) instead of my southern Ontario you may well have your regional equivalents, and like this one they may not resonate terribly strongly outside of their time and place. It popped back into my head after a long time recently and of course 2020 has changed it a little. A song that as a teen I felt keenly as about loneliness (albeit also about how technology can feed into that) of course now plays on my nerves as another small piece of art about the way that most of us (those scared and/or responsible anyway) have only that relatively narrow, technologically mediated connection to the people we love. All of us, artists and listeners alike, are trying to fit our feelings and art and selves down these little connections, with some success.

On a personal level, 2020 wound up being stressful in ways we couldn’t have predicted even after the pandemic hit. In circumstances that could have seen governments on this continent support those unable to work (and those who shouldn’t have to), support those workers who are truly essential, support workers and renters and even landlords and small businesses, instead we got a near-total abeyance of those governments using the resources we provide them with to save any of us. On a personal level my wife and I were lucky enough to be able to work from home (not that it didn’t come with its own forms of stress, and now that I’m off until January I have several work/stress-related illnesses to recover from) but still saw friends and loved ones lose good, used-to-be-sustainable livings overnight, saw family businesses succumb to a near-total absence of effective government support after months of trying to keep above water, etc.

It is probably no surprise that this is not a situation conducive to listening to music, let alone writing about it; I have deliberately and happily kept busy on behind the scenes stuff at Dusted that I could still manage but looking, at the end of the year, at the amount I managed to actually create is demoralizing if not at all shocking. I’m not sure I think next year will be ‘better’ in many important ways, although at our job there is a growing feeling among coworkers that next year has to have some work/life balance because 2020 was, maybe more than anything else, unsustainable.

That’s not to say I didn’t spend a lot of time and emotion on music this year, and if nothing else constant sleep deprivation, stress, and panic meant I was probably open to being deeply moved by all sorts of art even more than normally (it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even read a sad or moving twitter thread out loud to my wife without getting teary, which is kind of… nice?). Funnily enough the band that did the most to keep me sane didn’t really put out anything in 2020. Personal favorite, Low, instead started, in early April, getting on Instagram with something they called on whim “It’s Friday I’m in Low.” With one brief break they have now done by my count at least 35 shows (catalogued here, by the way), every Friday at about 4 my time.

Admittedly it’s easier for Low to pull this off than some bands, since the 2/3 of the trio that sing are a married couple (they’ve had a couple of socially-distanced backyard shows with bassist Steve Garrington, but he’s mostly been isolating elsewhere). These shows have seen the band’s Alan Sparhawk take a mid-set break to do follow-up phone interviews with the acts featured in the COVID-curtailed touring bands series Vansplainingthat they started on YouTube, or just to give a tour round their vegetable garden and talk tips. It’s seen Alan and Mimi Parker draw on their impressive, 25+ year body of work (averaging 4-5 songs a set, I don’t think they’ve repeated themselves yet) and talk a bit between songs about pandemics, politics, song choices, and whether Alan should grab his bike helmet this time.

They’re not the only musicians out there speaking love and sanity (and playing music) into the strange digital interzone filled with hate and disinformation where we’ve all been forced to gather while locked down, but they were and the most consistent and steady signal being emitted each week. No matter how tired I was from work or what new symptoms I’d developed or what horrific thing I read into the news, even if I had to take an emergency nap while it was actually airing, every Friday the show was there. Once things do return to something more like normal, it’s one of the few things I’ll unambiguously miss about this weird-ass year.

So if that makes an argument for Low as my band of the year (admittedly again… it’s not like Double Negative has aged poorly, either), that does a disservice to those 2020 records I did connect with; even if there are still literally dozens I have to go through, many of which I expect to love, my top picks this year (if as unrankable by me as always) hit me as hard as any top pick in recent years did. So here I present a quick and informal top 5, which the rest of my top 20 following in alphabetical order. Here’s hoping for more time and space in 2021 for music, and even more than that, for more support for those who need it from those who could have been providing it all this time. (The Matthew Good Band, incidentally, always did best with their ballads. “Strange Days” is another I’ve had in my head these days; the image of moving “backwards, into a wall of fire” has stuck with me since the 90s and it’s never felt more grimly appropriate.)

Greet Death — New Hell

New Hell by Greet Death

This one is, in some sense, cheating; it came out November 2019. But that just means it’s the latest winner of my personal Torres Prize for Ian Being Late to the Party (so named because becoming slightly obsessed with Torres’ Sprinter just after I sent in my 2015 list was the first time I noticed that one of my favorite records of each year tends to get picked up by me just after I call it quits on the year, no matter how long I try to wait). This very doom and gloom slowcore/metal/(whatever, just know it’s heavy) trio at first felt very much like my beloved Cloakroom (whose Time Well has also won a Torres Prize) but sure enough nuances revealed themselves. Back in February it felt almost a little too negative, but then the rest of 2020 happened. And the extended burns of “You’re Gonna Hate What You’ve Done” and the title track remain searing.

Holy Fuck — Deleter

youtube

Probably the record I’ve been trying to write about the longest in 2020, and the one I’m most disappointed in myself that I just couldn’t get the requisite paragraphs together. It’s a wonderful effort from the consistently great Toronto resolutely human-created (and —mediated) dance music quartet, one that both feels like a summation of everything they do well, and with the addition of some outside voices (including strong turns from the singers of both Hot Chip and Liars) a step forward at the same time.

Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone

Brave Faces Everyone by Spanish Love Songs

As the year got worse, this roar of defiance only got more crucial for me to hear every so often; I was a big enough fan of it, even after writing it up for Dusted, that when they solicited fan footage for a subsequent music video you may just be able to get a glimpse of me in it. (I’m the one in a “No Tories” t-shirt.) My punk rock-loving twin brother was the one who introduced me to Spanish Love Songs and we were supposed to spend an evening in June screaming along to them live in a packed, sweaty room. I need that in my life again.

Julianna Barwick — Healing Is a Miracle

Healing Is A Miracle by Julianna Barwick

It’s a sign of what 2020 has been like here that even just this album title leaves bruises, and while I privately worried Barwick would have a hard time following up 2016’s sublime Will (probably my favorite record that year), it seems that continuing to take whatever downtime she needs to keep focusing and refining her particular muse has once again yielded amazing results. Anyone who thinks they know what a Barwick track sounds like should really check out, say, “Flowers”, but much of this record absolutely sounds like Barwick, just even better than before. She also boasted my wife and I's favorite streaming concert of 2020, an absolutely gorgeous rendition of this album with Mary Lattimore showing up.

Phoebe Bridgers — Punisher

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers

I joked on Twitter recently that I have far too nice a dad (and far too good a relationship with him) to be as obsessed as I am with Phoebe Bridgers’ “Kyoto”, but here we are. Like most of her generation, Bridgers’ social media presence ranges from shit-posting to inscrutable, but even though things are often just as hard to figure out in her beautiful songs (as they often are in life), there’s an emotional clarity to them that can just grab you deep down. Couple that with seriously impressive songcraft and the progress from her already astounding debut Stranger in the Alps and more than anyone else in 2020 I’m excited to see just where the hell Phoebe Bridgers is going to go, because it feels like she’s talented and hardworking enough to go just about anywhere and drag a lot of our hearts with her.

Other Favorites

Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II

Anastasia Minster — Father

Deftones — Ohms

Hum — Inlet

Kelly Lee Owens — Inner Song

Mesarthim — The Degenerate Era

Perfume Genius — Set My Heart On Fire Immediately

Protomartyr — Ultimate Success Today

Rachel Kiel — Dream Logic

The Ridiculous Trio — The Ridiculous Trio Plays the Stooges

Sam Amidon — Sam Amidon

Shabason, Krgovich & Harris — Philadelphia

Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO

Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead

Yves Tumour — Heaven to a Tortured Mind

Five Reissues/Compilations/etc.

Aix Em Klemm — Aix Em Klemm

Bardo Pond — Adrop/Circuit VIII

Charles Curtis — Performances & Recordings 1998-2018

Coil — Musick to Play in the Dark

Hot Chip — LateNightTales

Ian Mathers

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chucklegigglechortlesnort · 4 years

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Meet Me on The Dance Floor

A/N: literally no one asked, but here you go. This is self indulgence at its finest. If you haven’t watched Kekkai Sensen already, I recommend it - both sub and dub are gold - it’s one of my very favorites.

I’m finally done with school, so I’ll be back on the fanfic grind.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: kissing, mentions of alcohol (legal drinking)

. . . . . . . . . .

“Hey, do you wanna go out tonight?”

It had all started with those seven simple words.

It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to hang out on weekends, in fact, it was one of the few things that Leo had become accustomed to while living in Hellsalem’s. However, typically the two of you usually spent that time lounging in your pajamas, eating junk food, and marathoning old true crime shows.

Going out was different.

Zapp had teased him relentlessly when he found out - god knows how - but it’s not like it was really anything new. It was obvious to everyone that the two of you were close and despite how that may have appeared, it never transcended beyond friendship. Even after all the obnoxious prodding that Zapp had subjected him to, Leo just couldn’t bring himself to make the first move.

“Out?”

The volume of Leo’s voice nearly made him wince, but he cleared his throat instead, face slightly rosy. You recoiled slightly, breaking eye contact in favor of the tiled floor of the common room. Leo inwardly cringed at the look on your face, regretting his outburst, but if you were hurt you didn’t dwell on it.

“Well… yeah! I mean, I know the owner of the club and I’ve heard good things.” You shrugged, glancing back up to meet Leo’s gaze. “I know going out isn’t really your thing, but I promise it’ll be safe. If anything happens, we’ve got each other. Besides, I think all these snack-filled movie marathons are starting to get to me.” You grimace as you jokingly pat your stomach.

Normally Leo would’ve laughed and shared the sentiment, or told you that you still looked pretty good to him, but instead he was just… silent. What did this mean? Were you asking him out as a friend? Were you asking him because you wanted more than just a friendship?

“I- I mean, you really don’t have to if you don’t want to, I can just ask Chain if she wants to- “

“N-no! I’m, I mean- I would like to go out with you!” Oh god, this was pathetic, “I mean, yes I would like to go out with you to the club! Yeah, the club-”

Once again you recoiled from his sudden outburst, but this time, after a few seconds a happy grin stretched across your face and you laughed. Oh, thank goodness.

“Alright then, I’ll see you at my place after work. The venue isn’t too far from my building so we’ll meet at quarter to ten and head over then. Sound good?”

“Yeah… sounds good!”

Leo waved you off as you happily turned on your heel and out of the room to run an errand. Not long after, Zapp came sauntering into the room like usual, dragging Leo off to do who knows what.

By the end of the day, Leo had almost died twice, a record all-time low considering what his norm was.

He had rushed over to your apartment having lost track of time after the long workday and despite wanting nothing more than to drown himself in the unreasonably soft pillows covering your living room, he began to psych himself up to go out. He knocked on the door of your apartment, slightly out of breath. This was going to be fun right? Just two good friends going out together for a good time, nothing more nothing less-

Your door swung open and Leo’s jaw hit the floor.

Your hair was slightly messier than normal, but he could only assume it had been done on purpose as you normally came into work looking neat and professional. It suited you. Your eyelids glittered with a subtle shimmer and your skin looked practically flawless, lips coated in a layer of gloss that he couldn't tear his eyes off of.

“Le- oh.”

“Huh?” Leo returned, snapping out of his hypnosis as he glanced back up at your eyes, “What?”

“You look like you just got jumped, no offense.” You reply, moving aside to let him in. He lets out a tired sigh, trudging through the doorway and flopping onto your couch.

“None taken.” He uttered through the cushion fabric, it was more or less what had happened anyways.

“Well, I was just about to get dressed, but are you still up to go out? We can always take a rain check and go out another night you know. We have an emergency snack supply and a new true crime show to binge so we’d be totally set.”

Leo kept his face pressed into the pillow and weighed his options. As nice as your proposal sounded, he knew he’d feel guilty if the both of you ended up staying in. He didn’t want to go back on what he said either, even though he knew you wouldn’t hold it against him.

“No, it’s okay, just give me a minute.”

He heard you snort and his head shot up from the pillow, “What? What’s so funny?”

You shook your head, trying to force down giggles at the way his hair stuck up at odd angles.

“Don’t worry about it,” You answered, disappearing into the hallway and to your room which wasn’t far off. “Oh, and Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that what you’re wearing out?”

Oops.

With all the commotion of the last day, he’d completely forgotten to bring a change of clothes, though he wasn’t really sure if he had anything that suited the venue, to begin with. After a little while of no response, you stuck your head out of your bedroom to see what the hold up was.

Leo had sat up on the couch, rubbing the back of his head bashfully, “Uh, it's all I really have, sorry.”

“Hey, don't worry about it then. Come here a sec.”

He slowly rose from the comfort of the couch, shuffling apprehensively over to your room. It wasn’t that he’d never been in your room before, but it still felt oddly intimate, like he wasn’t supposed to be there or something. When he reached your doorway, he saw you going through your closet, tossing items of clothing haphazardly onto the bed behind you.

You glanced over to see Leo awkwardly standing in the doorway, looking mildly unsure, “Come in come in, you’re not going to get scolded,” you joked, dragging him further in, right next to where you stood previously.

You motioned to the items of clothing splayed across the comforter, “See anything you like?”

“Aren’t these all your clothes?”

“Yeah, but a lot of the things I buy are actually ‘men’s clothing’.” You say, putting air quotes around “men’s clothing.”

Leo glanced down at the pile of clothes, completely lost. Sighing, you reached down and grabbed an over-sized, white t-shirt, a pair of solid, black dress-joggers, and a maroon bomber jacket that, funnily enough, matched his hair.

“Here,” You tossed the bundle of clothes into his arms, skirting around him to your vanity. You picked up a simple silver chain and handed it to Leo. His eyebrows rose slightly and you shook your head.

“Just, trust me.”

He only sighed and shrugged, mumbling, “Alright,” under his breath.

As you exited, you turned to pull the door shut, catching a quick glance at the way his shirt rode up his back as he pulled off his sweatshirt. You knew Leo never was one to boast, but despite all the claims that he was weak, he was actually quite… built. Heat rose to your cheeks as the image of a shirtless Leo flashed through your mind and you were thankful he hadn’t caught your eye when you had closed the door.

Not long after you had shut him in, Leo popped his head out of your doorway, once again looking mildly unsure.

“Well? Let me see!” You exclaimed impatiently.

Tentatively, he stepped out into the hallway, revealing your handy work. The t-shirt that would have normally swallowed you whole hung slightly loose around Leo’s torso, the bomber jacket fitting surprisingly well around his shoulders. The black joggers and chain pulled the look together, making the outfit look slightly more expensive than it actually was.

“So…?” Leo didn’t know quite what to make of his outfit. He rarely ever wore anything other than his staple hoodie, which eas beginning to wear down after all the wash cycles it had been through, so it was… nice to dress differently than he usually did.

“Perfect,” You stated, clasping your hands together in front of you enthusiastically, “Now all I have to do is change and we can head out.”

You were in and out in record time, and you looked absolutely stunning.

You had shed the over-sized sweatshirt and replaced it with a cropped leather jacket, a lacy maroon bodysuit peeking out from underneath it. A high wasted mini skirt met the jacket as it stopped just below your ribs, slits strategically placed on either side to show off a little extra skin while providing a little extra mobility without the risk of your skirt riding up. The whole look was pulled together by a pair of Dr. Martens.

Leo was at a loss for words for the ‘nth time that day.

Luckily you didn’t waste any more time as you brushed past him, calling over your shoulder, “Ready to go?”

“Y- Yeah! Just let me get my shoes on!”

He stumbled after, regaining his footing by the time he made it to your front door. He thanked the gods that he had chosen to wear his new shoes today. His last pair had been absolutely totaled by the last monster he had encountered the other day and these ones went much better with the outfit than the previous ones would’ve.

By the time he had finished tying up the laces, you were already excitedly waiting with the door open. He quickly exited the apartment, waiting for you to shut and lock the door before following you out of the building.

The walk to the venue was short, Leo having internally debated whether or not he should just grab your hand the whole five-minute walk. It was too soon that you had arrived at the entrance and with a wave of your hand you made your way past the bouncer, announcing that you had brought a plus one with you. Disgruntled bar-hoppers protested against your bypassing of the line but were swiftly silenced by one growl from the alterworlder guarding the door.

Bass blasted through the speakers surrounding the dance floor and off to the side was a large bar boasting a plethora of liquors and fine wines. You grabbed Leo’s hand, pulling him straight to the bar.

“Two Blue Moon’s to start off the night please!” You shout over the music. The bartender nods, grabbing two bottles and sliding them down the counter. You pass one of the already cracked open beverages off to your companion, clinking the drinks together before taking your first sip.

Three beers and two shots later, you began to feel the familiar buzz setting in. Leo had finally begun to loosen up halfway through his third beer and you were currently boisterously laughing at his recollection of the day’s past events - something about zap nearly getting his dick blown off by one of his crazy one-night stands.

You were mid-laugh when the song suddenly changed and your face lit up with recognition. You turned to Leo, a hopeful look on your face.

“Hey! I know this song, wanna go dance?”

He glanced up from his beer, looking slightly shocked. His cheeks were already tinted rosy from the alcohol but he could feel the color rising to his cheeks at your suggestion.

“Um, yeah, sure.”

Your face lights up at his words and butterflies swarm around in his stomach, despite the alcohol in his system. Hopping down from your seat at the bar, you grab his hand once more, this time intertwining your fingers with his as you lead him to the dance floor.

You expertly wove your way through sweat soaked individuals gyrating to the beat of the music, ending up somewhere not too far from the edge but far enough that you were surrounded on all sides by other people. Once you seemed satisfied with your location, you pulled Leo towards you until there was less than a hair’s width of space between the two of you, placing the hand you held in yours on your waist, encouraging the other to follow suit. Your arms circled around Leo’s shoulders, bringing him impossibly close as you gently swayed to the beat.

Leo felt as if his whole body was on fire. Not a single part of him was unaware of your closeness and his intoxicated mind could barely fathom how much had changed in that single moment you had decided to pull him against you. One moment he was buzzed without a care in the world, the next he was close enough to kiss you if he wanted to.

And he really wanted to.

Feeling oddly brave, Leo brought his forehead to rest against yours. It may have just been him being too hopeful, but he thought that maybe he saw your gaze flick to his lips for a moment before glancing back up at him through lidded eyes. And maybe it was just his poor depth perception from the alcohol running through his veins, but it was almost as if with each sway of your bodies, your face was inching closer to his.

Fuck it.

Mustering all of the courage he had, Leo closed the distance between you, gently slotting his lips with yours. It only lasted a few seconds before he pulled away, wanting to make sure he hadn’t overstepped his bounds. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for you to push him away, to tell him that you didn’t see him like that, or maybe even slap him, but none of those happened. Instead, he was pulled back towards you, this time your lips crashing together. With newfound confidence, Leo pulled your body flush against his to deepen the kiss. Hands slowly traveled up his shoulders and threaded themselves into messy maroon curls as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth and softly bit down. Leo let out an embarrassing whimper at the sensation, suddenly thankful that the music had drowned out all other noises. His grip on your hips tightened reflexively when your tongue glided over his lip to soothe the bite, before slipping past his lips and tangling with his own.

Suddenly you broke away from the kiss, panting heavily as the song came to an end.

“Let’s go back to my place, yeah?” you asked breathlessly, intently searching his face as you waited for an answer.

The two of you hadn’t been out for more than an hour and a half, but despite this, Leo found himself nodding in response. Fingers laced themselves through his and he allowed himself to be lead off the dance floor through an obstacle course of swaying bodies and to the club’s exit. The sudden gush of fresh air did little to sober the two of you up as you insistently tugged along a stumbling Leo, who wondered how on earth you were able to walk so effortlessly despite the alcohol in your system.

As soon as you made it past your building security you were practically dragging him up the stairs and to your apartment door where you hastily unlocked it, barely making it inside before your lips connected again.

Who really initiated, neither of you knew, but it hardly mattered. The heady mixture of alcohol and pent up sexual tension had overriden any inhibitions that previously lingered in your minds and the only thing your inebriated brain could focus on was how good it finally felt to be doing this.

Your back was flush with the wall while your front was pressed completely against Leo’s, who’s hands had found their place back on your hips. Your arms wrapped around his neck, hands threading themselves into the curls at the nape of his neck and tugging. This time Leo let out a mixture of a whimper and a moan, muffled by your tongue slipping past his lips and into his mouth, tangling with his own.

You pulled away shortly after, trailing your lips first over his jaw before coming to a halt over his pulse. You hovered over the spot for just a moment, before firmly placing your lips on his skin and softly sucking. A sharp intake of breath could be heard and almost immediately Leo’s arms snaked around your waist, holding you tightly to him and completely closing the distance between you. His lips found yours once again, this kiss just a little bit needier, just a little bit sloppier than the last.

Your right hand gently de-tangled from his hair and slowly trailed down his arm before slipping between your bodies and underneath the fabric of the loose, white t-shirt. Your hand trailed up his abdominal and just about reached his rib cage, lifting the hem of the shirt along with it.

Your fingertips had just about reached his upper chest when suddenly-

“Hold on.”

Leo abruptly tore away from you, gazing down at your face which was tight with confusion and borderline hurt. He hated it, and he hated it more that he was currently the reason for it, but he couldn’t go any further without knowing.

“I don’t- I wouldn’t… do this, with just anybody. And I, um- I don’t want to- wait, no. I do want to, but only if, you know, the feeling is… mutual.”

There was a pregnant pause as you contemplated his words, and suddenly your face was flushed a deep crimson red, the alcohol in your system doing nothing to subdue the embarrassment overtaking your entire body at the moment. You buried your face in your hands, trying to will away the intense blush that painted your countenance.

Oh jeez, you were such an idiot.

“Well. You see, I had a plan.”

“Huh?”

“I was going to start asking you out on more… date like outings, and somewhere along the way you’d hopefully get the message or I’d build up enough courage to, you know, ask you out,” you explained. “I certainly wasn’t expecting this to happen, and I just thought, well-“

“-that I got the message.” Leo finished.

“Mhm.” You nodded, “I definitely got a bit carried away though, I’m sorry.”

Another pause settled over the two of you, and after a little while you slowly peaked from behind your hands to gauge his reaction. To your surprise, his face was covered in a blush of its own, his normally squinted shut eyes drawn open in shock.

“Leo? Are you-”

“A complete idiot? Yes.”

“Well, that’s not what I was going to say, but if the shoe fits.” You cracked, trying to ease the tension that had settled over the two of you. Leo only blinked in response, and you thought that maybe you had made the wrong choice until-

“Pft-“ The both of you burst out into a fit of giggles, marveling at the ridiculous situation.

You gently shook your head as the giggles quieted, but the smile on your face remained. You glanced over to the time displayed in bright, green numbers on your microwave, taking note that it was only half past eleven.

“You know, it’s still pretty early and those snacks aren’t going to eat themselves.” You concluded, settling your gaze back onto Leo.

His own countenance was decorated with a soft smile, the blush still present, though it had subsided to a slight flush just underneath his eyes.

“I’ll go throw on the true crime documentaries.”

. . . . .

Early morning sun streamed through the curtains that covered your windows, a strand of light hitting Leo right in the eyes. He groggily cracked an eye open to find foreign surroundings.

He wasn’t in his apartment? Oh, right.

Memories of the previous night came back to him and he felt his cheeks flush. A soft groan came from just beside him and he nearly yelped in fright before realizing it was just you.

You.

He smiled to himself as he gazed down at your peaceful face, letting out a soft laugh. You cracked an eye open to see him staring down at you. You let your lid shut, snuggling deeper into his chest.

“What’s so funny?” You asked. Though it was more of a statement than anything.

“You’re drooling.”

“Am not…” You retort, voice scratchy as you brought your hand up to make sure, “Whatever you jerk, go back to sleep, it’s too early to be up on a day off.”

You heard another soft laugh as Leo readjusted himself so he was out of the line of light, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline and you buried your face deeper into his chest to hide the blush creeping up to your cheeks. He certainly was more bold when he was half asleep.

You’d have to tease him about it later though, you noted, drifting back to a content slumber.

#kekkai sensen #blood blockade battlefront #kekkai sensen imagine #blood blockade battlefront imagine #leonardo watch #leo watch #leonardo watch x reader #sfw #fluff #friends to lovers

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nyctolovian · 4 years

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Summary: What if Jon was a Witch and Martin was a Runaway Royalty? Funnily enough, it doesn't make their first meeting any less unfortunate and terrible.

Warning: Since this might be something people are sensitive about, Martin is described as "fat" and "plump" in this fic. But not in a derogatory way? (Please tell me if it comes off as such oh dear.)

"Who the hell gave you the right to eat all my cookies?" Jon hissed, brandishing his broom at the intruder.

The man gulped visibly as his round chocolate eyes wobbled. The crumbs still dusted between the freckles of his pale cheeks irked Jon to no end.

He had been saving those butter cookies, savoring only a couple every few days. So you can imagine the shock and fury that coursed through Jon's veins when he returned to his cottage after a frankly needless travel, and found a large man sitting in his living room with an empty tin on his lap. Before the man could even react, Jon had shoved him to the floor and whipped his broom forward threateningly, demanding an explanation for the cookie thievery. If Jon had given the situation more thought, he might have realised his priorities were slightly out of order, but it was the only tin he had procured from when he last set foot amongst human civilization. And he abhorred the thought of going into a town after just three months for a mere tin of cookies.

"I-I-I'm really sorry… I…" the intruder stammered out. "I, um, stumbled upon this cottage… and no one came back for the past two days so… I thought it was abandoned and, well, stayed…"

"Abandoned?!" Jon shouted. "What part of this–" he gestured towards his numerous possessions with his broom "–looks abandoned to you?"

Sure, the cottage didn't have much furniture, but there was plenty of belongings that served to prove its occupancy. Most obvious was how it was filled wall-to-wall with towering mahogany shelves of well-kept books. No one in their right mind would simply desert such an extensive collection of ancient knowledge. This house was admittedly more library than home, but Jon's point still stood.

"Well," muttered the man, "it is quite messy and dirty to be honest."

Jon narrowed his eyes at the intruder, who hastily muttered an apology. It wasn't as though he was wrong though. If one were to believe Sasha James (whom, in Jon's experience, had never been categorically wrong), his living conditions were dreadful. It was as though a hurricane had swept through the house, throwing his belongings about, but deliberately left the dust and dirt alone. Books were scattered across all surfaces, couch and floor included, as several layers of dirt settled on the floor, shelves and table. Even some articles of clothing strewn on the floor and chairs have gotten jealous, and begun their own collection of dust as well. And maybe the air in this house was… a fair bit mustier than it should be.

Jon had never been much of a cleaner.

"I'm sorry. I really am," the man began again. "You're… not going to kill me, are you?"

"What? No!" Jon scrunched his nose in horror. "Of course not."

"Oh, uh, good." He let out a nervous chuckle. "To be honest, when I first came in and saw all the books and crockery, I thought the owner of the house might be some kind of witch. I'm glad you aren't one. They can be quite creepy, and I frankly don't like the idea of being cursed by one."

Thunk! Jon hit the butt of his broom against the wooden floor, eyes narrowed. Drily, he corrected, "I am a witch."

"Oh." The fat man pursed his lips as he shrunk into himself. "That would explain some stuff."

With a huff, Jon rolled his eyes. It was tiring to constantly have people doubt or assume he wasn't a witch just because of the way he looked. Admittedly, most people in the witchery profession were women. He had only known three men who were witches, only one of whom he had actually met, and maybe one other non-binary witch. At least this time he hadn't been accused of lying. "Don't worry. I won't put a curse on you or anything absurd," he told the now deathly pale intruder.

The man let out a sigh. "Right. Thank you. Sorry," he said nervously as he stood up, hunching into himself apologetically. “ I'll… let myself out now.”

Jon wielded his broom once more and the man yelped pathetically. "Now, hold on. I'm not letting you go after you've treated my house like a hostel for two days and eaten all my cookies."

"I'm really sorry," he muttered. "I don't have a single coin on me…" He pointed at an unfamiliar bag beside the table. "I… I do have some parchment and quill though."

"Parchment and quill?"

"It… has a certain vintage feel to it."

"No need. I can subsist on pen and paper just fine." He jerked his head towards the overflowing mess of a study table.

The man winced. "I'm sorry… I really don't have much else with me."

"Right," Jon said, narrowing his eyes. He couldn't help but doubt those words. The fabric of the man's clothes looked rather expensive, and the garment was skilfully crafted to fit his stocky build. It was unusual to see a man this well-dressed without a single coin in his possession. But an actually well-to-do man wouldn't be stumbling into cottages in a forest and polishing opened cookie tins off, Jon would presume. "What's your name?" he asked.

The man's already big eyes widened further. "Uh, what?"

Impatiently, Jon groaned. "Your name. Do you have one?" he asked, acid practically dripping from his voice.

"Ah, um, yes," the man stammered out. "I'm Martin K- Blackwood."

"Martin K. Blackwood?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Are you answering or asking a question?" Jon snapped.

"Answering! Answering."

He huffed in annoyance, his eyes sliding across his kitchen. When he had left, unwashed crockery and cutlery were piled up into haphazard towers in the sink and on his tables. However, they were now properly washed, dried, and placed into his cabinets. So this home intrusion hadn't been an entirely unprofitable one.

With a glint in his eyes, Jon said, "I have a proposition."

***

Stupid Martin, he cursed himself. Why are you constantly making things worse for yourself?

First, it was the whole running away from home thing. He didn't regret that in particular, but he probably should have brought along more than 10 silver pieces. It was no wonder how after a mere week, all his money was spent or given to a group of famished scrawny children. Then, he had decided to cut through the woods in hopes that he could sustain himself on wild berries, none of which, he later found, looked convincingly edible. Then, he had stumbled upon a curious cottage in the middle of a dense forest and, upon finding it abandoned, let himself settle in. As was typical of his luck, it wasn't actually abandoned, and its owner was none other than a witch. Thinking back, he should have taken note of the tinge of change in the air when he first stepped foot, evidence of its steady pool of magic, and its otherworldly still-resident.

Most mortifyingly, however, Martin had flushed to a ridiculous shade of pink when the witch smirked and said he had a "proposition" because, holy crap, did Martin have an imagination. The puzzlement on the witch's face at his reaction before clarifying what aforementioned proposition actually was might have been the finishing blow to his dignity.

"You're not in some romantic comedy," he muttered angrily to himself as he scrubbed the study table with all his might.

"Did you say something?"

Martin looked up at the witch, who had retreated to the floor while Martin cleaned his study table. He had built a fortress of books around himself and had to straighten himself to look over its walls. There was genuine confusion on his features as he asked the question.

"Uh, no," Martin said, shooting him a smile and adjusting his spectacles nervously. "Just a rather nasty stain here."

The witch–"Jon, Jonathan Sims," he had been told–shrugged and returned to burying his nose in some spell book, his tousled hair cascading gently with the movement to frame his handsome face with a wavy shoulder-length curtain. His slender fingers flipped the page gently before curling thoughtfully over his stubbly chin.

With a sigh of resignation, Martin got back to removing the stubborn stain on the dining table.

It always were the prickly men that had the prettiest faces, weren't they? So Martin really couldn't be faulted for consistently developing unwise infatuations for them.

The image was still imprinted in his mind's eye, like an afterimage of too-bright light. Falling to the floor had kicked up a cloud of dust and the poet in Martin felt the air tremble with ethereality. And the sight before him was nothing short of divine.

Jon's lustrous greying locks tangled gently with the sunset glow from the ajar front door, and his silhouette was outlined with light. It highlighted how well the black pinstripe suit fit his slender figure and gave him a sort of cool sharpness. His thick eyebrows were tightly knitted in a rather adorable frown on confusion. His eyes were beautiful obsidian that reflected every shimmer of emotions upon its surface. Martin found his gaze slowly trickle down from those eyes to his thin parted lips as though guided by the sureness of gravity. Then, Jon brandished his broomstick and–bloody hell–Martin would be lying if he said that didn't spark an embarrassing warmth in his gut.

Being in close proximity with someone this hot was going to be detrimental to his health. Martin was pretty sure if he spent a second longer around this man, he would have fainted like an anaemic lady in a poorly fitted corset. That or lock himself in the washroom, preferably with the shower on, for a suspiciously long period of time.

Thank god, however, Jon had the fashion sense of a grandmother. When he emerged from his bedroom, he had changed out of his suit, into a dark green cardigan, overstretched beige shirt, and grey tartan trousers. (Tartan? Really?) Every single article of clothing was baggy and oversized beyond what was sensible for someone as small and angular as Jon. Martin had never seen anyone more swallowed up by clothing than Jon was. That was saying a lot since Martin had seen more jesters than the average person in their entire lifetime.

At least, he supposed, the colours of his apparel complemented his dark earthy skin, bringing out the richness in its tone. Martin might go as far as to say that what Jon was wearing now made sense. When Jon first appeared, he was posh and brooding dark colours, oozing with cruelty–a foreboding shadow that obtruded the autumn palette of forest and cottage. However, in his indoor clothes, he was an easy fit in the puzzle that was this house, with its quaint exterior and cosy interior.

There might also be something endearing about seeing such a slight person swaddled in soft fabric. And the smallness of the man as he sat criss-crossed on the floor did no favours for Martin’s sensibilities either.

Martin shook his head, physically objecting to his own train of thought. He couldn't afford to let his imagination run wild like letting loose a golden retriever with cabin fever. After all, if he actually had to clean up the house to compensate for his intrusion, he was going to be staying in this cottage for a long while. Because, despite his unquestionable familiarity with his broom, Jon had clearly not used it (or any cleaning tool for that matter) in the house for at least 4 months, and Martin was now left to deal with the aftermath of such a decision.

With a soft sigh, he went to change the water in the pail before moving on to cleaning the kitchen table, which was honestly worse off than the study table. That was a major understatement given the amounts of stains and bits left on the kitchen table. Martin rolled up his sleeves and began to scrub the stubborn stains.

As he got rid of the last grime on the table, he stood upright and stretched his back, hearing it crack softly. His eyes settled upon the clock above the bookshelves. It was 8.45pm already. Concernedly, he asked Jon, "What time do you usually have dinner?"

The witch looked up from his volume, his dark hooded eyes blinking owlishly. As though just realising what Martin had said, he let out a quiet noise and glanced towards the clock. "Oh," he muttered. "I forgot."

Like a disappointed parent, Martin pursed his lips.

"Now." Jon nodded to himself as he rose from the floor. "Now would be good."

"I could cook."

Jon jerked to a halt, midway to standing upright. "Ah, yes." He plopped to the wooden floor like a stuffed doll before crossing his legs once more. "I should have some potatoes…"

Sheepishly, Martin said, "Actually, um, I ate them. But, uh, I can cook rice."

Jon jutted his chin out. Exasperatedly, he waved his hand and grumbled, "Fine. Do whatever." Grumpily, he returned to reading again.

After clearing the dining table as best as he could, Martin went to work with cooking. After examining the contents of the fridge, he decided on a simple meal with baked beans and some veggies and sausages since there wasn't enough time to defrost any meat.

While Martin was scooping out the uncooked rice, Jon suddenly spoke, "Do you really know how to cook rice? None of that white-people rice-boiling nonsense. I have a rice cooker." Then, in the most condescending voice, he asked, "You do know how to use a rice cooker, right?"

"If it assures you, I've worked in the kitchen of a Mexican restaurant before."

Jon, whom Martin was fairly certain by now had quite the dramatic streak, visibly relaxed with a loud sigh of relief. "That's good." Then, he burrowed into his books again.

Turning around, Martin rolled his eyes and flipped on the tap to wash the rice. After filling the rice cooker with rice and water, he plugged the cooker to a socket and hummed with curiosity. "I wonder where the electricity comes from?"

"Magic."

Martin startled.

Jon's head was peeking out from behind his ever-growing book fort, which now reached just below his chin. There was a proud quirk in his eyebrow as he continued, "I decided living this deep in the forest doesn't mean I have to give up the conveniences of technology. So I've imbued this cottage with magic to keep the electricity running."

"Well, that would explain the lone WiFi network my phone detected."

"It's password protected," Jon said, as he wriggled a smartphone out of his pocket. "Do you need it?"

"No thanks," Martin responded immediately. Then, realising how strange he must sound, he added, "Uh. I have unlimited data."

Despite how ridiculous this must have sounded, Jon didn't seem to pay the blatant lie much attention. Instead, his attention had shifted to his own mobile phone. He typed furiously into the device for a few minutes before his phone began to ring. His expression soured and he muttered under his breath, "God damn it, Tim."

"What?" Martin blurted even though he had heard Jon loud and clear.

"Just a… troublesome friend. It's none of your business." Jon picked up the phone and began the call with the most peeved "Yes, Tim?"

"Right. Yes… Of course." Still, Martin couldn't help but perk his ears.

"Before you begin, the answer is a resounding no," Jon said. "No, I don't. ... It doesn't matter to me what the rewards are. … You can't– Ugh…" He squeezed his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I really couldn't care less. … I'm not your personal sniffer dog. Or the state's for that matter.” The perpetual small frown on his face deepened with bewilderment. “What do you mean you’re not…?” Then, with a huff, he muttered, “Shocking.” His lips however quirked up by an almost indiscernible centimetre.

Martin felt a pang of curiosity. This might have been the first trace of a smile that he had seen on the crotchety man. Noticing that he was staring, Martin ducked his head and busied himself with cooking the sausages.

Suddenly, Jon shot to his feet. "Don't you dare!" he hissed. "Tim, I'm warning you. … Fine." His tense shoulders relaxed as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "I'll… I'll see what I can do." To Martin's disappointment, Jon stepped over his fort of books and headed into his bedroom, where the conversation continued without eavesdropping ears. Pursing his lips,

Worry was a hungry hound nestled under Martin’s sternum. Perhaps his ribs were particularly sweet in its canine teeth because it frequently gnawed and chewed at his chest. But this might be the biggest and hungriest hound yet, though this time it spared him and merely nibbled.

Stop overthinking things, he told himself. Not every Tim in the world is going to be Tim Stoker.

***

Tim Stoker was unrelenting when he wanted something.

Jon had realised this long before when he had helped search for his brother but this was ridiculous. Threatening to reveal a hermit’s address, much more one that practiced the occult, was to strip a hermit crab of its shell. And revealing it to the Royal Guards of all people was to smash the shell with a massive hammer while the crab was still in it—needlessly cruel and most probably going to get him killed.

But Jon supposed simply helping Tim out would be much less inconvenient than moving house and cutting ties with the man. Besides, he wasn’t entirely a nuisance.

With a grunt, he knelt beside his bag, still unpacked from his previous trip, and grabbed his journal and a pen. "Alright," he said, setting the book on his lap and pinning his phone between his head and shoulder. "Tell me about this prince. Age? Birthday? Height? Weight? Something?"

"Um… 28, I believe? Not sure about his birthday… Height is between 180 and 190, I think? Uh… He's on the fat side… He's got curly brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, wears glasses, dimples handsomely when he smiles…"

A long-suppressed groan finally escaped Jon. After his draining trip to the Witch's Conference, he really didn't have the energy to listen to Tim describe what was clearly a small crush of sorts. "This is going nowhere. Just send me a photo."

There was a brief sheepish silence. "Haven't got one, actually."

"Alright, hold up," Jon cut him off. "How on earth do you have nothing on this man? He's a prince for god's sake. In fact, I've only been hearing about this whole missing prince debacle from you. How is this not on the news yet? It's as if you people don't even want him back."

"Well," Tim mumbled over the phone, "it's… a tad bit complicated. You know, how I said I'm not doing this for the state?"

"Mm."

"It's 'cause he ran away to avoid getting married off to another kingdom," Tim said. "Specifically the Nebula Kingdom."

Jon raised an eyebrow. The political ties of the Nebula Kingdom and the Kinsley Royal Family would put even the most volatile stock markets to shame. That was to say, they were mercurial at best. Having a marriage between the two nations would likely stabilise their relations, but if the groom scampered off, it wouldn't just look bad. There would have to be either war (fortunately, a non-militaristic one since neither country was physically confrontational), or massive compensations of the monetary sort. And the Kinsley Royal Family was not quite as wealthy as Nebula, so their best bet at the moment would be keep this runaway business on the down-low for now.

From the other end of the phone, Tim sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth. "Yeah… So, honestly, only the most high ranking officials are aware of his disappearance. To everyone else, he's just caught a bad case of flu."

Curious, Jon pressed, "And how is a mere royal alchemist such as yourself privy to such confidential information?"

"Actually, he's a friend of mine," Tim said. "So you can imagine how worried I am for him right now."

"I take it you're not carting him off to the palace the moment I find him?"

"Of course not," Tim said with an affronted tone.

Jon let out a hum. "And why the lack of photographs?"

"Well," Tim said. "There's the fact that he's pretty camera-shy. But, also, he's sort of… an illegitimate child of the prince. So things were kept on the very down-low when it came to him."

"Good lord." Jon squeezed his nose bridge with a loud sigh. He could imagine it already: keeping the illegitimate child a secret, ensuring no one could recognise him, and then using him as a marriage pawn when the time was ripe. With how notoriously prolific the prince was, no one could ever tell the difference between an illegitimate child and a regular concubine's offspring.

How a man could sustain such a virile lifestyle perplexed Jon, to be honest. But there were a great many things of the sexual nature that had that effect on the witch so he'd much rather think about actually decipherable things such as spells and potions.

Mentally shoving his distaste aside, Jon continued, "So how do you suppose I find this man without any useful information?"

Jon could practically hear the sunshine in Tim's voice. "Not sure to be honest! I was kind of hoping you'd have an idea."

"I'm a witch. Not a… private detective or sniffer dog or whatever you're taking me to be!" Jon grumbled. "Tim, it's not that I don't want to help you, but you have to give me something better than just a general description of the man."

"Right…" Tim sounded genuinely disappointed. "What about his stuff? I'm not sure about witchcraft but you guys use possessions and stuff for curses and such, right? If I manage to find something he left behind… would that work?"

Jon hummed in thought. "Wait a moment."

He scavenged through the books in his bedroom and found a leather-bound journal that was practically falling apart. Gently, he flipped through the pages and finally came across the section he was looking for.

"Well, if we are to use an object, I'd cast a searching spell on the seeker, which I suppose would likely be yourself," he explained, running his forefinger over the squiggles of the page. "There are then several criteria that the object has to fulfill. First, we need it to be of emotional importance. Then, it has to have a connection between the target and the seeker, meaning you should try to find a gift from this man. Not something you took without his permission or something that is borrowed. And even then, there is a chance of it being a dud."

"That's… not ideal," Tim winced out. "I'll see what I can find." His voice was warm and sincere. "Hey, thanks a bunch, dude. You helped me find Danny, and now Martin as well… I was lying about exposing your house address by the way. I'd never do that. "

"Yes, Tim, I know."

Tim bounced back into his cheeky disposition. "Love you too, Jon! Bye!"

Jon rolled his eyes and ended the call.

Martin… The prince had the same name as his unexpected intruder…

A frown settled upon his brow. What if…

There was a quick rap against his bedroom door. Jon got to his feet and opened it.

"Oh!" Martin–the intruder–gasped. "I thought you were… still on your phone… or something. Um, I was just… Dinner's ready?"

"Ah," Jon said with a nod. The two of them sat at the dining table. The food looked good actually, much to Jon's relief. Still, with some frankly warranted skepticism, he fluffed the rice with a scoop, and when he saw that it was nice and soft. He placed it in his bowl and began to eat.

Sitting opposite, the cook took a sigh of relief at the silent approval and dug in as well. Then, his phone began to ring and he swiped the screen absently. "I saw some tea in the cabinets so…" he muttered as he got up and carried two mugs from the kitchen counter to the table.

Jon took a sniff from the cup. Chamomile. Carefully, he took a sip, and his eyebrows yanked upwards with delight.

Martin's plump cheeks dimpled deeply with pride as he hummed and drank from his own mug as well.

Jon supposed he earned that. When he brought the rim of the mug to his lips again, his eyes fluttered half-closed as the fragrance of the tea surrounded his senses like an old but well-kept blanket, warm and soothing.

Wouldn't it be great to keep him around? His mind sponsored. Jon had to beat the thought down with a stick. He was a hermit and he planned to stay as such. Besides, Jon had a niggling feeling about this man's identity...

But this Martin couldn't possibly be a Prince Martin, Jon convinced himself Imagine such excellent tea-brewing skills squandered on royalty.

#magpod #the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #witch au #royalty au #fantasy au #ace jon #nb jon #tma fanfic #my writing

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