#he was born close to my hometown!

[mysunshinetemptress]

Leah Williamson x Royal!Reader

Disclaimer: I’m sorry it’s taken so long I hated the first draft so deleted it and went again. It’s not my best but I’ve been so busy with college that I wanted to give you something cause you guys have been waiting ages

The media coverage on the run up to the wedding had been enormous, so much so both you and Leah found it difficult to leave Kensington Palace as swarms of people either the media or fans had gathered just past the gates. You where nervous if Leah saw this all becoming to much and decided to call the wedding off, she was a private person one who had been allowed to live a private life along with her professional career up until you had both been spotted on your fifth date, after that it seems as though the floodgates had opened and although you had tried to close them for her you couldn’t.

Both your family as well as Leah’s had all been arriving in to London getting ready to go out to one final dinner before you became a married couple. You had attended a dinner a few nights ago held in you apartment in Kensington palace with all your friends, this meant all of Leah’s Arsenal teammates as well as England teammates international friends from different teams as well as her hometown friends and others she had picked up along the way, while your circle was much smaller always being conscious of picking the right friends ones who loved you for you and not your title. That didn’t mean you had any less of a good time then Leah you had clicked with her friends so effortlessly the first you had met that she almost always swore she would have married you on the spot each time.

The dinner with your family’s wasn’t much different only it was held in Buckingham palace. Leah’s family included both her parents, brother Aunts and Uncles as well cousins, at this dinner you seemed to have had the bigger circle with you Father and his wife, both your brothers and their wives and then your Aunts and Uncles as well as all your cousins and their partners. You had been ever so gracious though and although Leah’s family had met yours many times over the royal protocol had always been a difficult thing to grasp for anyone who wasn’t born into and so you had stayed by Leah and her family’s side giving them signals of when to do things as well as what to call everyone, that was until the alcohol was brought out and all the protocols went out the window, you smiled leaning back into Leah watching your family’s get on so well, relaxed after showing themselves instead of the stuffy upperclass family they could be in the public eye.

The days suddenly began to feel more real as the last of the preparations for the wedding had finished, Windsor Castle was set to welcome another wedding and the buzz around the Uk had begun to grow, Leah would show you the videos family and friends sent her of you both on coffee cups, masks of your faces and flags to which you would both laugh and tell each other that you would get it for Christmas.

Two days out from the wedding you rang you brother in a panic, it was the middle of the night and Leah slept peacefully as you paced the floor of the living room crying down the phone as fear set in “what if this is all to much for her Will what if she realises how heavy this family is what if she doesn’t love me enough to see past that.” William had tried and failed to calm you down he had been telling you over and over that Leah did in fact love you as well as wouldn’t just leave you but nothing seemed to work until your sister in law took the phone from him. “Y/n love it’s Kate. I need you to breath for me ok and then tell me what’s going on.” You let out a breath sighing before telling her what you had just told Will “oh Y/n, I know it’s hard and I know you worry that she doesn’t love you or that all of this is to much for her but she loves you just as much as you love her, you have shown her from the beginning if she said the word you would drop everything and stand back, you have shown her that if she wants to live this life with you you would be there with her every step of the way. Leah wants to marry you because she loves you, because she knows that no matter how big of a role she is stepping into that you are with her every minute ok.” You let out a quite ok before jumping feeling arms wrap around you “Thank you both of you I’m so sorry I woke you up I’ll see you soon.” Kate smiled “no problem that’s what we are here for goodnight Y/n.” Leah restated her cheek on your shoulder “what’s wrong baby.” You relaxed into her hold “My head was so loud, I’m sorry I didn’t want to wake you.” Leah shook her head turning you around “don’t apologise talk to me I’m here for you no matter what time the clock reads.” “I feel really stupid because I know you love me I do but I worry that this is all to much.” Leah looked at you eyes soft “what is all to much my love.” You felt the tears well up in your eyes “this life, the constant struggle of being a family and an institution, the wait of the crown.” Leah sighed whipping your cheeks free of tears “ with you nothing is to much ever, I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I didn’t know what I was walking into and I definitely wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t think we could get through this together.” You nodded pulling back “it’s me and you my girl we have talked about this and if I have to remind you till your old and grey I will ok.” You couldn’t help but pull her into tight resting your head in the crook of her neck “me and you.” You stayed like that a while longer before Leah squeezed you “let’s get to bed.” You nodded before pulling her hand “I want to ask you something first.” Leah nodded pulling you to the couch “anything.” You let out a breath before talking “your achievements both in your professional career and in your career off the pitch in making sure women have a voice and expanding the game, they are your own achievements.” Leah nodded slightly confused “I….Papa wants to give us a dukedom. It’s a title every child of the monarch gets should they wish for it.” Leah squeezed your hand telling you to continue “I don’t want it.” “Y/n you can’t stand back you….what this is crazy you are the voice of so much change and good in this world.” You shook your head “I’m not standing back, I am simply not letting your achievements that you have worked so hard on be over shadowed by a title, you can’t choose if they give us a dukedom you can’t voice your opinions the way you do now and I’m scared they might ask you to stop playing and I don’t want that for you not for a long time, you have so much left to do but if my father gives us a title like that it won’t work in our favour.” Leah finally understood, you where looking out for her once again in a world she didn’t know much about. “Are you sure.” You nodded “I am.” Leah pulled you in for a kiss “ok then talk to him and tell him, I don’t know how much support I will be but I have your back on this ok.” You nodded pulling her up into another kiss before heading to bed.

The day before the wedding you found yourself sat on the kitchen counter writing emails as Leah stood in between your legs tracing soft patters on your back “are you nearly done, I want to spend the next few hours we have left cuddled on the couch.” You hummed pressing a kiss to her head “one more and then you get me until September my love.” Leah sighed resting her head on your chest “fine but the cars coming to pick me up in five hours.” You rolled your eyes at her whining before pressing send and kissing her “all done my love let’s go.”

You stood out in the courtyard talking to Amanda as you waited on Leah to come down with the last of her things to spend the night in the hotel “what time do you leave.” You sighed looking at your watch “an hour tops, I wanted to give you guys enough time to clear before I left didn’t need you guys getting followed.” Amanda nodded “nervous.” You smiled at the older woman “about marrying Le no, about all the people watching yes .” Amanda took your hand “they all fade away the minute you meet her at the alter I promise you will be so wrapped up in each other you won’t realise how many people or cameras there are.” You sighed nodding. Amanda looked at you worriedly “Y/n are you sure your ok.” You let her eyes your own filling with tears “You have been the mum I never got to have, and I never say it enough how thankful I am but I hope you don’t mind that I have looked at you like a mother figure since Leah and I started dating.” Amanda pulled you into a hug “oh love I don’t mind I love you like you where my own and I have since Leah brought you home all those years ago.” You squeezed her tight “I love you too.” The moment was ruined when Leah came running out the door “ok so I think I have everything if not don’t care…hey I want to get in on the group hug.” Both you and Amanda laughed pulling away as you whipped your cheeks “no time I’m afraid my love you are late.” Leah looked at you eyebrows pushed together in worry at your red eyes “you ok.” You nodded quickly “I’m not sad don’t worry just emotional but that’s ok now go so I can marry your gorgeous ass sooner.” Leah laughed pulling you into a heavy kiss “I love you.” You nodded “I love you.”

You stood in corridor staring at a painting of your grandparents “that is probably my favourite painting of them together.” You hummed “they talked about this day ever since you came home going on and on about a blonde girl from Milton Keynes, your Granny had approved of this wedding the minute she met Leah and saw how happy she made you, made me promise I would never tell you not to marry her, my response was by god do you think I’m crazy people that in love kept apart well it’s only ever been written by Shakespeare and it doesn’t end well.” You couldn’t help but laugh “death is a bit extreme papa I would have simply ran away.” Charles laughed “our lives are mostly laid out for us in this world we live in whether we know it or not..my great grandfather was an example when his brother abdicated he was thrusted into a role he was never fully prepared for and one your grandmother is so certain killed him.. the knock on effect was that his line of succession became us..my mother was told from then on that all decisions she thought she was allowed to make would be no more and that she couldn’t just marry any man she had once hoped for.. although she always states it worked out in the end and she ended up living a long happy life with your grandfather by her side.” Charles paused trying to gain your reaction “I am simply king by accident of birth most would say.. our family belief is that god himself has placed me here because I am the only one at this current moment of time strong enough to convey his message to his people.” You scoffed at this, you loved your family but that belief was completely backwards and it was something you had been taught to keep your mouth shut over since you where a child “that meant I myself had to marry right and ultimately I left and the woman I loved couldn’t wait for me. Your mother was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” You turned facing your father now “she was absolutely breathtaking and it was a plus she came from an aristocratic family as well as her soft nature that won us all over and I knew she would be the one that would help me carry this weight, but we where so different and I realised that although she was breathtaking and kind and a wonderful mother and no matter how much I tried to convince myself I only ever loved her.” Your father turned looking at you as you stated back at him with soft eyes “but I was never in love with her, and for that I am always sorry, she lived no one should ever have to and I am partial to blame as well as those photographs but I am not sorry for the nights we shared together blissfully loved up in one another’s presence Y/n I need you to know that our greatest achievements where our three children and although one of us is here physically to witness this she is just as proud to watch you fall in love, to marry someone who is equally as in love as you someone who makes you laugh uncontrollably that we all stop just to listen, she is at peace knowing you are all happy, we both are at peace.” You took your fathers hand staring at him eyebrows creased together “ I never got to know her and it is something that has always effected my ability to feel how much she loved me, but this entire experience the run up to the wedding to how it will happen tomorrow has shown me that I have always been loved by her just as much as Will and Harry, I don’t hold it against you papa it’s not your fault you couldn’t love her it’s not hers either your heart simply beat for Camilla and I am happy you got that happy ending and now in some way I feel like Mum gets hers too come tomorrow at 1pm she does anyway.” Charles placed a kiss to your hand patting it gently “I wish you both a life time of happiness and that no matter how dark some days may seem to be just know that you have a friend crawling through that tunnel with you trying to get to the same light and it’s always easier if you work together.” You nodded “goodnight papa.” Charles smiled “goodnight peach.”

Leah stud fixing her cuff links on her left a gold cannon and on her right a crown both representing her beloved football team and the other the royal she was most definitely in love with. Jacob knocked on her door “eh mum said you needed something blue for the wedding so here.” Leah looked at her brother shocked “get that way no way in hell am I using anything with that stupid bird on it no no way not funny.” Jacob laughed “I’m sorry I had to, here Y/n said this should do.” Leah looked down at blue ticket “Jacob what is this.” Jacob smiled at his older sister “it’s the parking ticket to London Colony the day you both first met, she said for today you could borrow it since she guessed you wouldn’t have anything else.” Leah looked up at her brother shocked “how…what I can’t believe she has this.” Jacob smiled nodding “quite the romantic wife you got there.” Leah couldn’t taker her eyes off the ticket whispering out a quite yeah.

You stood fixing the tiara that sat on her head before looking at her brothers “what.” Harry shook his head “nothing it’s just you look so much like Mum it’s crazy.” You smiled at him “you think.” William nodded “we do.” There was a knock on the door as James still his head through “Miss Williamson has left for the chapel, it’s now or never your royal highness.” You turned to your brothers “ready.” You nodded picking up your dress “yep.”

Leah stood at the later of St George’s chapel Jacob standing just behind her as she looked at her family in the pews before straightening up as here comes as a classical version of Can’t help falling in love played through the chapel. The song had been chosen as a way to tie in The Queen and Prince Philip after you both found them dancing to it during a late night wonder around Balmoral Castle. Leah felt her lip trembling as she watched your nieces and nephews walk down ahead of you waving to them smiling as she waved them off before freezing as she caught your eye, your father walking beside you proud as ever as your brothers held the back of your dress gently. Leah quickly lifted her hand up to clear the stray tear as she smiled your father before looking back at you “hi.” You smiled at her softly before she quickly burst into tears again. You pulled her softly into letting her rest her head in your neck “I would cry too but I can’t remember if they put the waterproof mascara on and I really don’t fancy having to get through this looking like a panda.” Leah laughed sniffling as she pulled her head back up apologising softly. The Archbishop looked at you both making sure you where ready before he began “We are gathered here today to witness the greatest love story to grace us in nearly a century, who gives this bride away.” Charles stepped forward “I do.” Charles reached over taking Leah’s hand before placing it in yours “Congratulations to you both.” You smiled “thank you papa.” Charles stood back patting your brothers as they took up their grooms men posts behind you.

Amanda had been right the minute you locked eyes with Leah the world had vanished and the friends and family who had gathered to watch had simply disappeared “I missed you.” Leah whispered as you both sat watching the Archbishop hands never letting go of one another “Le it wasn’t even 24 hours.” Leah smiled “yes but every second away from you is torture.” You smiled squeezing her hand “Did you get my surprise.” Leah turned eyes full of love “you surprise me everyday and make me fall more in love with you every second your incredible.” You smiled “and I’m about to be your wife.” You both stood in front of the Archbishop as he finished his speech “repeat after me I Leah Cathrine , take The Y/n Margaret Elizabeth Victoria to be my lawfully wedded wife in for richer for poor, in sickness and in health. Till death do us part.” Leah sighed placing the ring on your hand repeating the words as her eyes never left yours. “I Y/n Margaret Elizabeth Victoria take the Leah Cathrine to be my lawfully wedded Wife in for rich or poor in sickness and in health till death do us part.” Your hand shakes slightly as you slide the ring on to Leah’s hand looking up as she squeezed it “your ok.” You nodded repeating the words “well I now pronounce you Wife and Wife you may now kiss the bride. Leah didn’t hesitate scooping you into her arms before kiss you hungrily. Leah let you go as the chapel erupted into cheers but you couldn’t take your eyes off each other.

You curtsied to your father before making your way back down the isle to the front steps of the chapel to crowds applauding, you waved smiling at them before Leah pulled you into another kiss “hey.” Leah laughed “just giving the crowd what they wanted.” You made your way down the steps getting into the carriage as you both left the grounds making your way through Windsor waving at people before turning up the long walk. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are.” Leah smiled at you “I don’t believe so.” You laughed “oh I’m so sorry worst wife ever “you look absolutely gorgeous my love.” You smiled resting your head slightly on her shoulder “you are the best wife one could ask for my darling.”

Heading through the gates the public part of the day was over as you headed into the main hall to spend the rest of the day with your guests. You had both mingled Leah making sure your where in arms reach at any given moment as your guests congratulated you both on your day as well as wished you look to the future. Finally it was time for your first dance and you couldn’t help but become nervous as you held Leah’s hand making your way to the dance floor. Leah turned flipping off her friends as they began to whistle in delight, Georgia shouting out “Keep it PG Le yeah.” You laughed as Leah pulled you close just before Can’t take my eyes off of you by Frankie Valli.

The night raged on a lot more and became something of a scene once the children had been sent to bed you hadn’t seen the lionesses drink like this since they won the Euros, yourself and Leah on the other hand had decided not to drink anymore scared of forgetting the day. At 5am the hall had finally cleared out leaving just you and your wife swaying to Stand by Me by Ben E King. “This has been the best day of my life you know.” You hummed your head in her shoulder “I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” You lifted your head “I can’t believe it either but there was never going to be anyone else.” Leah pulled you into a kiss humming softly “I love you.” You kissed Leah passionately “I know but I loved you first.” Leah couldn’t help but smile “Well I get to love you last.” Leah kissed you again and you would never admit it but you loved this back and forth“Hmm promise.” Leah nodded energetically “I promise to love you till the stars come calling, it’s me and you my girl even after we become simple sparks in the sky.” You pulled apart “I don’t want the night to end in fear that it wasn’t real.” Leah shook her head “if we go to bed now then we get to wake up wives.” You laughed pulling her in for one more kiss “ok Mrs Williamson take me to the Bedroom.” Leah laughed “Gladly Mrs Williamson.”

[outerspacebisexual]

You're It For Me - Eddie Munson

Requested: Yes

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: After the death of your parents, you're moved to Hawkins where you find your chosen family, including your boyfriend Eddie Munson. But when your old best friend comes knocking on your door, Eddie struggles with something he's never had to worry about before: jealousy.

Word count: 4.0k

Warnings: grief, swearing, jealous eddie, angst, fluff

Masterlist

The day you left your hometown was a blur.

Everything had melded together in a mess of the grief of losing your parents and being torn from the only place you had ever known. You were young enough that your aunt had decided that you would do better in a new town, away from the constant reminders of your parents. That town being Hawkins, Indiana, where she lived.

You could hear the removalists boarding up windows downstairs, moving furniture into the truck parked in your driveway. You were sat in the corner of your bedroom, curled into yourself between the end of your bed and the wall, making yourself as small as possible. If you tried hard enough, maybe you could just disappear.

There was a soft knock on the door, and you didn’t need to look up to know that it was Ian.

Ian had been your best friend your entire life. His house sat opposite your own, as it had since you were born.

You heard the door push open, soft footsteps creeping closer until he sat in front of you. You didn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry you’re leaving,” he said, his voice cracking with his pre-pubescent drop. You had made fun of him for it mercilessly in the past, but now, you could only think about how you would never get to hear it again.

Your eyes clouded with tears, and he hesitantly reach out and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“We can still write to each other,” he tried again, and you knew that he had tears in his own eyes. “And I can call you, too. My dad says he won’t mind the bill.” Your heart ached as you recognised he was trying to comfort himself as much as he was you.

You sniffled. “I don’t want to go. I hate that she’s making me leave. I hate her.”

“You don’t mean that,” he said. Even at 13, he was wise beyond his years. “She’s your aunt.”

“She’s still taking me away from you.” You finally looked at him, and his own face had tear tracks running down his cheeks.

“We’ll still be friends. Plus, you’ll make new friends, too.”

You sniffed again, wiping at your cheeks. “Do…do you promise?”

Ian managed a smile as he unfolded something in his hand. You hadn’t even noticed he had anything. “Always,” he said, handing you a photo of the two of you from when you were little.

+

A pounding on the door had you waking up well before you had wanted to.

“Eddie! I need your help!”

You groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket closer as you kicked Eddie’s legs. “Your son is here,” you grumbled.

Eddie huffed, not moving. “It’s the weekend. He should be annoying Harrington on the weekends.” His voice was thick with sleep as he slung an arm over you. “If we ignore him long enough, he’ll go away.”

Apparently, Eddie was choosing to ignore the fact that Dustin Henderson always got what he wanted.

“I know you’re in there! If you don’t come out right now, I’m breaking the window!”

Eddie pulled you closer for a second, before finally conceding. You cracked an eye open as he stood shirtless, stretching his arms above his head, giving you a clear view of his back. Your eyes drifted over his tattoos, before landing on the new scars littered over his back, chest, and arms.

They were healed, thankfully, but the raised scars were a reminder of his close encounter with Death itself. When you had gone with Steve, Nancy, and Robin to kill Vecna, you had made him promise to stay safe; a promise that he had failed to keep when he chose to save Dustin by sacrificing himself.

You could still hear your screams echoing in your ears as you returned to find him lifeless in Dustin’s arms, blood leaking from every part of his body. It was touch and go for hours, sitting beside him as he was stitched up while he was still unconscious.

You still had nightmares about it.

When Eddie turned to look at you, he saw your eyes on him and leaned forward, capturing your lips in a soft kiss that said everything he didn’t have to. I’m here. I’m OK. I love you.

And then he was at the front door, shouting at Dustin.

The scene was familiar, and you smiled before rolling over and falling back asleep.

+

“I don’t understand,” you said, spooning a mouthful of yogurt into your mouth. “Why are you letting Dustin be the DM?”

Eddie sighed from where he was sitting at your dining room table, books open all over the surface, eyeing you on the couch. “Because he needs to learn how to run a campaign properly, and he can’t do that without practice.”

You frowned. “And you’re doing all the hard work…why?”

“Because he is a total shithead and can’t seem to understand the logistics.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Kid is the dumbest smart person I’ve ever met.”

You had played D&D with Hellfire a few times for One Shots, but had never had to actually worry about how things worked in the long term. Eddie, however, had done this more times than you could count, and it still left you in awe of how his mind worked and his ability to foresee each tiny little change and adjust the story accordingly.

It was hard work, but he made it look easy.

You watched him flip through pages and write down different bits of information, his tongue darting out to brush over his lips. His hair was fluffier today, freshly washed, and you desperately wanted to run your fingers through it.

He caught your eye and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

You shook your head. You were long past feeling embarrassed for eyeing up your own boyfriend. “You’re so pretty.”

He brushed your comment off playfully, rolling his eyes, but you could see his pink cheeks as he looked back down, smile on his face.

You had your own small smile as you picked up his copy of The Hobbit, the calm quiet falling over the two of you. You enjoyed this, the soft domesticity that you two had formed over the past two years. You knew Eddie loved it, too.

It was broken, however, when a hesitant knocking on the door had the two of you looking at each other.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked.

It was supposed to just be you and Eddie all day until that evening when the whole gang came over for a movie night. Steve and Robin having unlimited access to new movies meant that movie nights were commonplace now.

You stood and made your way to your front door, and as you pulled it open, you jaw nearly hit the ground.

“Ian?” you said, but it was more of a question.

The man was standing on your doorstep, backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked completely different from the last time you had seen him. His blond hair that had been buzzed for so many years as a child was longer, hanging just above his neck, and his teeth were straight, no doubt from braces that must have been and gone in the years since you had been gone.

He flashed a welcoming smile and hadn’t changed. “Hey, Y/N.” You couldn’t pull your eyes away from him. “Are you going to let me in?” he said after a moment, and you shook yourself out of your thoughts and threw yourself into his arms.

His backpack fell from his shoulder, and he just laughed as he hugged you back.

“What—what are you doing here?” you asked when you pulled away. “Your last letter said you were in—”

“—Maine. Yeah. I finished my college scout earlier than I thought and I decided to catch you on the way home.”

You furrowed your brows. “Indiana isn’t exactly on the way home.”

He shrugged. “Close enough.”

His eyes flicked behind you just a moment before you felt an arm snake around your waist.

You looked up to see Eddie assessing Ian. “Eddie,” you said, resting your hand on his chest. “This is Ian.”

“Ian? As is Ian from home?” He raised a brow.

You nodded, turning back to Ian. “Ian, this is Eddie. My boyfriend.”

Ian grinned as he held out a hand to Eddie. “Nice to meet you, man.”

Eddie stared at his extended hand for a moment too long, and you thought he wasn’t going to shake it, but he did. “Yeah, same. Y/N’s mentioned you a few times.”

Ian’s face dropped almost imperceivably, but you caught it just before he slipped on his usual smile. You could see Ian giving Eddie a once over. You had no doubt that he was surprised at his appearance. Eddie wasn’t quite the type of guy you had fawned over when you were a kid flipping through magazines, and while you had mentioned that he was a metalhead in your letters to Ian, you doubted the tall, long, shaggy-haired guy was what he pictured.

“Come in,” you said, stepping back closer to Eddie to gesture to your living room.

Ian sat on the couch, Eddie slipping in the armchair opposite him while you grabbed some water and glasses from the kitchen.

You poured a glass and handed it to him. “So, what are you doing here?” you asked, handing another glass to Eddie, who just raised his eyebrows as he took it from you before you plonked yourself at the opposite end of the couch.

“I’m here for you. And to see you and this town you can’t stop talking about.”

“Do you want me to show you around?” you asked eagerly. It felt slightly surreal. Ian was a reminder of your previous life, and now he was here in your current one. It felt like a weird mix that you never thought would happen.

Ian nodded. “Absolutely.”

You turned to Eddie, who had been silent, just watching the two of you. “Do you mind if I take Ian out today? I know we have plans later, so I’ll be back—” You turned back to Ian suddenly, leaning over and gripping his arm. “—Oh! We have a movie night tonight. You should totally come! My friends Steve and Robin—you remember me talking about them?—well, they’re bringing over a new movie, and the kids will be here; Dustin, Will, Mike, Lucas, Max, everyone!”

Ian was already nodding vigorously. “Hell yeah! I’d love to.”

You stood, mind whirring with everything that you wanted to show Ian, before looking back to Eddie. “You still have to do your D&D stuff, right? I can take Ian now and meet back here before everyone else gets here?”

Eddie was standing and moving for the table where your keys were before you could get another word out. “Nah, it can wait. I’ll drive.”

You blinked. Normally D&D took precedent over everything. “Yeah, sure.” You turned back to Ian, who was standing, backpack slung over his shoulder. “You ready?”

+

Eddie was sure that his brain would explode if he heard Ian laughing at something you said one more time.

He knew you were funny; it was one of the biggest reasons he loved you, but you weren’t that funny.

So far, he had driven you around nearly everywhere in Hawkins, the two of you giggling like schoolgirls in the back seat as you talked about things you had never even mentioned to him before.

Then, the two of you were jumping out of the car, you pulling Ian along before Eddie could even put the park brake on, disappearing into the arcade.

Eddie tried not to let the growing feeling of resentment climb any higher, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep it at bay. He knew that Ian had been a big part of your life before Hawkins. You had talked about him so many times, he practically knew the guy inside and out. And yet, having him here, on his turf? Yeah, that was chafing on his male pride.

He caught Steve’s eye through the glass of Family Video and entered the store.

“Who is that?” he asked immediately.

“Ian,” Eddie grumbled, leaning back against the counter.

“As in Ian?” Eddie only grunted in reply, and Steve only looked in the direction of the arcade. “Weird. He’s different that I expected.”

“Who is different to how you expected?” Robin said, suddenly appearing from the back room.

Steve glanced at her. “Y/N’s friend Ian.”

“He’s here?” she asked. “What does he look like?”

Steve nodded towards the arcade. “Like Billy Hargrove on steroids.”

Eddie grimaced. Great. As if he needed that comparison floating around.

“Oh,” Robin said, leaning on the counter beside Eddie. “that’s why you’re moody.”

“I’m not moody—”

She tsked. “I beg to differ. Look at the stance on you.” She gestured to his crossed arms and rounded shoulders. “That is a moody stance if ever I saw one.”

Eddie sighed, looking at the ceiling, willing whatever god was there to give him strength.

+

You were on a high when you got back to your place late that afternoon.

Ian had been just as excited as you all day. It felt like you were two kids again, racing down the streets of your hometown, getting into mischief. When you and Eddie had dropped Ian at his motel, he had promised to be at the movie night tonight.

You had still been rambling as you entered your place, Eddie following behind you. “I just can’t believe he’s here,” you said as you entered the kitchen, beginning to get ready for everyone to be at your place in a few hours.

Eddie slumped down at his place at your dining table. “Neither can I.”

“He said that he’s going to stay for the next few days before heading back home.”

Eddie scoffed. “Home.”

You paused, pulling out a popcorn bowl and placing it on the bench. “What?” When he didn’t say anything, you looked at him, raising your eyebrows. “Eddie.”

Eddie twirled his pencil in his fingers as he flipped a page. “This is your home.”

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, this is your home. Here. In Hawkins.” There was an edge to his voice that you didn’t like.

“I know.”

“So, why do you keep referring to it at as home?”

You blinked, trying to follow his train of thought, but getting derailed about a mile away from it. “Because it is? It’s just as much my home as Hawkins is.”

Eddie gripped the pencil so tight his knuckles turned white. “Right. I mean, why wouldn’t it be, with someone like him.”

“What is your problem?” you questioned, your voice rising.

Eddie leaned back, crossing his arms. “My problem? I guess I just didn’t expect to have to drive my girlfriend and a random guy around all day.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I said you could stay here—”

“—Oh, and what? Just thinking about all the stuff you two were doing all day? Yeah. No thanks.”

You could feel every drop of joy and excitement about today leaking from you with every word Eddie said. “Where is this coming from? You like Ian. You always said you wanted to meet him one day.”

“Well, maybe I didn’t think about the fact that he would be all over you and you just wouldn’t care.” The ice in his tone was lethal, and you physically took a step back despite the large distance between you.

“So, what? You don’t trust me?” You couldn’t keep the hurt from your voice. “Is that why you offered to drive us?”

Eddie didn’t answer. He just kept his gaze on the table. But it was all the confirmation you needed.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah, well,” he said, and you thought he was going to continue, but he just sat there, content to let the silence speak for him.

You stared at him as your heart clenched painfully in your chest. “Fuck you, Eddie,” you spat, letting the words hang there with your heart, silently praying that he would say something.

But he didn’t.

And so, you turned away from him, continuing to get everything ready while trying desperately to keep the tears that clouded your vision at bay.

+

When everyone arrived at 6:00, you welcomed them into your house like normal. You and Eddie had spent the past two hours pretending that each other didn’t exist. You hoped that the tension between you wasn’t palpable enough that the others noticed.

You thought that he would apologise, but he hadn’t. He’d just ignored you the whole time, not even looking at you.

It turned out that Ian had no idea what the kids were talking about most of the time, but he engaged in conversation regardless, trying his best to keep up.

Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will were in the midst of trying to explain D&D to him and he nodded along attentively, but you could see the information was just going straight over his head.

Once Nancy and Jonathan arrived, Steve put in the movie. It was some new Tom Cruise action movie that was supposedly good. You knew Nancy would love it, and normally you would, too.

Everyone took their usual spots, spread out across the floor and multiple couches while Ian sat in the armchair.

You paused, staring at the two-seater couch that you and Eddie normally shared. He was already sitting there, looking straight ahead at the TV. If there was literally anywhere else to sit, you would have taken it gladly, but there wasn’t. So, you took your seat beside him, curling your legs beneath you and leaning as far away from him as possible.

If the others had somehow missed the fact that something was wrong, they would definitely be able to tell now. Normally, the two of you were practically in each other’s skin with how close you sat. You caught him glance at you out of the corner of your eye, but you didn’t look at him.

You tried to pay attention to the movie playing, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the fight between you and Eddie. Of course, you guys had fought plenty of times before, but nothing had ever felt like he had questioned your relationship. You had been talking about your future just weeks ago; he had even broached the topic of getting married at some point, to which you had agreed. It wasn’t a proposal, but more of a confirmation that you were both with each other for the long haul. It seemed so long ago after today.

Three movies later, and everyone was asleep. Everyone except you.

Nancy and Jonathan were curled up together. Max and Lucas were the same. The others were in different positions across the floor.

You stood, trying not to disturb Eddie, who had his head resting on the armrest, eyes closed, with that deep breathing you had come to know so well.

You pulled open a drawer in the kitchen, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and heading to the front door. Cracking it open just enough to let the smoke out, you leaned against the frame and closed your eyes after lighting up and taking a drag.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Ian said, and you snapped your eyes open. He leaned against the diving wall, blocking out your view of some of the living room.

You took another drag. “I tried to kick it a few months ago. I only really do it when I’m stressed now,” you replied, dropping the ash outside.

“Are you?” he asked and amended when you looked confused. “Stressed, I mean.”

“I guess I am,” you said, eyes flicking over to Eddie’s sleeping form. He always looked so peaceful when he slept. Like nothing could possibly faze him.

“I’m glad you found a family, Y/N,” Ian said after a moment. And you looked at him. “They seem like really great people.”

You couldn’t stop the small smile that graced your face as you looked at the mismatched group spread out across your living room. “They are.”

“I was worried about you, you know? Your letters seemed really sad for a while there.” Ian’s voice had dropped, and your heart clenched. You had been really sad for months, before you became friends with anyone. Before Eddie. “But then you started talking about him.” He nudged your shin with his foot. “After that, I knew that you would be fine.”

Your eyes softened as you eyed you boyfriend laying on the couch. “I don’t know where I’d be without him," you admitted. Your voice cracked as you continued, “Sometimes I think about my life without him—” You didn’t mention the fact that you had faced monster and death on multiple occasions, but you could explain around the truth. “—I almost lost him, a bit over six months ago. And it was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. Everything I see in my future, he is right beside me. I can’t remember a time where I ever thought he wouldn’t be.”

You wiped away a tear that escaped your eye as you finished off your cigarette.

“He loves you, I know it.”

You swallowed. “Maybe.”

Ian didn’t say anything, and you sent him a sad smile as you headed upstairs to your bed.

+

Everyone had left by the time you woke.

When you walked downstairs, the living room was empty and everything had been packed away. It was like no one had even been there.

Your back door opened, and you turned to see Eddie. He froze when he saw you, half-way in the door, empty popcorn bowl in hand. He cleared his throat and closed the door after a moment before heading into the kitchen.

You stared after him.

He washed up the bowl, setting it in the drying rack. “Everyone left about an hour ago,” he said, and you glanced at the clock. It was nearly 10:00am. “Do you want something to eat?”

You looked back at him to see him leaning against the sink, looking at you. You shook your head.

Eddie didn’t move, he just stared at you. You could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. “I—I heard you last night,” he confessed, and you closed your eyes, biting your lip. You didn’t want to think about it.

You heard him move, and he was in front of you.

His hand came up to rest on the side of your neck, just as it always did. “Open your eyes,” he asked, voice soft. “Please.”

When you did, you saw how close he was. His brown eyes were misty as they scanned every inch of your face. You own hand came up to rest on his forearm.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for yesterday. For making you think I don’t trust you. That was me being…insecure.” He brushed his thumb across your jaw. “But I’m the most sorry for making you think that I would ever stop loving you.” He stepped closer, so that your chest was flush against his. “I love you. More than I could ever try and say.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss that nearly took your breath away with its sincerity. When he pulled away, you said, “I’m sorry if I made you upset yesterday, too. I was just excited.” You placed your other hand on his chest, right above his heart. “You don’t have to ever worry about anyone else. You’re it for me, Eddie Munson. No one else could take my heart from you.”

Eddie grinned, a proper grin that had you kissing him again.

a/n: this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would, but i hope you liked it!

please check out my prompt celebration, and if you would like to request something, please do!

[daisynik7]

“Meet Me Halfway” by Black Eyed Peas - fluff for Jean Kirstein please i BEG i love this song so bad

Meet Me Halfway

Can you meet me halfway? Right at the borderline is where I’m gonna wait for you.

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x reader (gn)

Word Count: ~2.1k

cw: red string of fate/soulmates trope, canon universe, canon divergent, spoilers up to Season 4, fluff

Summary: Jean’s red string of fate was loose ever since he was born. It seems like everyone but himself has found their soulmate here on Paradis. It’s only when the scouts finally head towards the sea that his string becomes a little less slack. Could it be that his fated partner is on the other side in Marley, behind enemy lines?

Author’s Note: Hi anon! Thanks for the request for the y2k karaoke party! I’ve been fascinated by the red string of fate/soulmates trope for a while now, so I wanted to try my hand at it here! This is just a little taste of this, maybe I’ll expand on this story in the future. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading! Divider credits to @/saradika.

The first time they ever see the ocean, they’re speechless, neither of them speaking to one another, taking in the breathtaking view. Cerulean blue shimmers throughout the entire expanse, nearly a mirror image of the clear sky above. It took them a few days to get here and Jean was beginning to doubt just how great this thing called “the sea” could be. He never expected anything like this, though. As if the picturesque scene before him isn’t enough to get his heart racing, for the first time in his entire sixteen years of living, the red string tied around his wrist, only for him to see and feel, finally tightened just the slightest. 

The lore behind the red string of fate is no secret among those living in Paradis. Each child is born with it cinched around their wrist; the other end supposedly tied to their soulmate. Jean’s has been slack since he can remember. That is, until now. While it isn’t as taut as some of his other friends, like Mikasa with Eren and now Armin with Annie, only he can tell the difference. It’s been a running joke since they found out the truth about the other side. Connie teases him and Sasha about it constantly. “Maybe your soulmates are in Marley? How does it feel to be bounded to our enemy?”

Sasha, like Jean, has never felt any differences in her rope throughout her lifetime. He turns to face her, pointing to his wrist, curious if she feels the same. Her jaw is dropped, and when she notices him signaling to her, she closes it, gulping loudly, slowly nodding. 

When they all dismount their horses to explore the water, Jean momentarily forgets about it, focusing only on how cold the ocean feels on his feet, how salty is tastes on his tongue, how incredibly far it reaches, surely farther than his eyes can see. It’s only after their skin starts to wrinkle that they retreat, sitting on the warm sand instead, watching the waves crash onto the shore. He nudges Sasha. “So, you felt it too, right?”

“Yeah, I did,” she answers, hesitant. She caresses her wrist in her other hand, biting her lip.

Connie butts in. “Felt what?”

“Our strings. They’re a little less loose now that we’re here.”

He smirks. “I told you! Your soulmates are on the other side!”

Jean leans back against his hands, groaning. “I don’t want my soulmate to be on the other side. The other side has been trying to kill us for hundreds of years! This is so messed up.”

Sasha hugs her knees, pouting. “I agree. This sucks.”

Connie pats her shoulder. “Hey, you don’t have to marry your soulmate, you know. Plenty of people don’t! My parents weren’t soulmates, and they turned out just fine.”

“But you’re planning on marrying Hannah, aren’t you? Once this is all over?” Hannah is a childhood friend from Connie’s hometown, and the two have been in much more contact recently. 

He chuckles. “I mean, not right now. But yeah, maybe in the future…”

“So your argument makes no sense!”

“This is different though! If your soulmate really is in Marley, I think the universe will forgive you for not marrying our enemy.”

Jean groans again, staring at the glistening ocean in front of him, shaking his head. “I just can’t believe they’re really out there and not here.” 

There isn’t much they can do for now, considering they have no means to get to Marley with the current resources they have. Jean buries it in the back of his mind, trying not to think about it while they spend the next month building a base near the shore. They anticipate a Marleyan ship to arrive soon, scoping the island before implementing their attack to capture Eren, the Founding Titan. What the other side doesn’t anticipate is Paradis being prepared to ambush them to carry out their own plan in infiltrating Marley. The first one arrives when they expect it. With Eren’s Titan abilities protecting the rest of them, they manage to capture the ship easily, taking those on-board hostage for questioning. Sasha, who is usually uninterested when it comes to matters not involving food, is surprisingly invested. She watches carefully from outside the tent, waiting for them to be released from their interrogation. Jean accompanies her, unclear about her intentions until she explains to him. “My string, Jean. It’s tight. My soulmate is in there.”

They haven’t talked about it since, both choosing to ignore it for the time being. Jean’s is still as slack as the first day they arrived here, and if he’s being honest to himself, it’s crosses his mind nearly every day. A small part of him wishes he was experiencing what Sasha currently is.

Eventually, a young man with brown eyes and blonde hair steps out, looking terrified. He glances at his wrist, then his surroundings, landing his gaze on Sasha’s, who’s peeking from behind a box. She gasps loudly upon eye contact, kneeling down to hide completely. Jean does the same, not before noticing the man make a similar expression, surely curious.

Sasha doesn’t say anything more about it, though Jean can tell she’s intrigued. A few days later, like fate, the man who they find out is named Niccolo, starts working at the port as a chef. Sasha is smitten as soon as she takes a bite of his food, and from then on, the two are inseparable. Jean can’t help but feel jealous. 

With all of his friends acquainted with their soulmates, Jean is growing more and more impatient by the day. It takes over two years for Paradis to organize their first trip to Marley and he’s among the first to volunteer, not only to help the scout’s reconnaissance of enemy soil, but for his own ulterior motive to finally find his soulmate. He doesn’t disclose this to anyone, though he’s certain that his best friends have a hunch. 

When they finally arrive to Marley, it’s stimulation overload. They attempt to stick together as soon as they step foot off the ship, though it’s difficult when there are so many new and exciting things to try. It’s especially hard for Jean when he notices his string getting more and more taut with each step he takes deeper into the city. 

They all decide to split up momentarily to explore, agreeing to meet back at the port in an hour. Jean and Connie follow Sasha through the crowded streets. She’s being led by her noise and eyes, searching for the tastiest, most delectable looking treats to try upon Niccolo’s instructions. “You have to try ice cream!” he told her days before they departed and it hasn’t left Sasha’s mind since. She sneaks glances at the small note he gave her, trying to match the words he wrote to the storefronts. “There! I see it! An ice cream parlor!” She rushes towards a colorful shop, pushing her face towards the glass window, drooling. Connie drags her towards the entrance, which dings as they walk through. Jean increases his pace to catch up and the string around his wrist is tight now. He scans his surroundings, trying to see what direction the little rope is pointing to. As he follows his friends inside the shop, it’s unbelievable taut now, and he’s certain that his soulmate is inside this ice cream parlor. His heart races, simultaneously terrified and excited to meet you. 

~~~

A little over two years ago, you notice the string around your wrist feels heavier on you than usual. You’re often teased about your soulmate being an “island devil” on Paradis, considering you’re the only Eldian left in Liberio without a one. In all honestly, it doesn’t bother you, the idea of your destined partner being on the other side. Even if they are an “island devil”, you’d still like to meet them. After all, you’re soulmates for a reason, right?

You spend several minutes each day sitting at the port, staring out towards the sea, wondering what they are like. You ignore the propaganda that’s been spewed at you since birth and instead fantasize about what their interests are. Do they like the same things that you do? What do you have in common, besides the rope that ties you together? How much taller or shorter are they, what color hair do they have? Do their eyes twinkle with kindness the way you picture they do? Will their smile be as charming as you imagine it? You dream about this for over two years, slowly letting the fantasy fade into the back of your mind before you lose your sanity. It’s easy to obsess over something, but it’s hard to get out of it once it consumes you. There’s no guarantee that you’ll ever meet them at this rate, so you go about your life as usual, distracting yourself from any romanticized ideas of your uncertain love story.

Today, you’re behind the counter of the ice cream parlor you work at. You started working here several months ago, hoping to be near the port in case one day, they arrive. The past few days, you convince yourself it’s just your imagination, the gradual tightening of the string. This morning, it’s tauter than it’s ever been before, and you’re certain you’re not making this up anymore; they’re here, they’re actually here. 

There isn’t time to go looking for them yourself, so you begin your shift, itching for the hours to pass quickly so that you can leave to begin your search. Fortunately, you don’t have to. Two people around your age enter the shop first, behaving oddly. They’re dressed normally, though something about them piques your interest. It’s especially alarming at how stiff the string is now, so you inspect each of their wrists carefully, dejected when you don’t see a match. The girl presses her nose to the glass, ogling at the ice cream displayed in the freezer, drooling. Her friend, a boy with a shaved head, tugs her off, apologizing with a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about her. She gets a little crazy when she sees something she wants.”

You smile at them. “No need to apologize. Our ice cream is the best in town, so her reaction is understandable. What would you like?”

The girl blurts out, “Everything!” 

“Sasha! We don’t have enough money for everything!” 

She pouts, eyes flitting across each flavor. “But they all look so good! How am I supposed to decide which one to pick?!”

Feeling generous, you offer, “I can do a sampler platter, if you’d like.”

Sasha’s face brightens. “Really?! You’d do that? How much would that cost? Connie, how much do we have?!”

You wave them off, beaming at them. “It’s on the house. Consider it some good old Marley hospitality.”

They gawk at you, shocked, and it only makes you giggle louder. You retrieve one of your larger bowls and ready your scooper, starting at one end of the freezer. The bell on the front door rings, but you’re too busy to greet the new customer directly. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!” 

It’s only now that you realize how stiff the string is, practically quivering now from being pulled so tight. You look up and see a young man staring at you, holding his wrist up with the same red string coiled around him, an uneasy grin on his face. “Hello.”

You almost drop the scooper into the carton, astonished to have finally found him. “Hi,” you say, heat rushing into your cheeks, taken aback at how handsome he is. “Um, let me just finish this.”

“Jean, you’re distracting our new friend here! She’s giving us all this ice cream for free!” Sasha exclaims, salivating over the bowl overflowing with ice cream now. 

He smiles at you, running his fingers in his hair. “Sorry. Please, continue.”

It takes you a few seconds to refocus back on your task. Eventually, you scoop all twelve flavors into a bowl, handing it off to Sasha and Connie, who dig in immediately as soon as they sit down. You pass a spoon to Jean. “Would you like to try? Before your friends finish it off?”

He laughs, grabbing it. “I guess I should, right?”

“Or I could scoop your own if you’d like. Which one do you want to try?”

He studies each carton carefully, pointing at your favorite flavor by coincidence. “This one is calling out to me for some reason.”

Your heart beats quicker, amazed by this serendipity. “That’s my favorite,” you admit, getting him a scoop.

“I had a feeling it would be,” he replies, beaming.

[greatooglymooglyyy]

Say Goodbye Part III (Chris Sturniolo)

part one, part two

a/n: so ig im just letting this story go where it wants to, idk how many part it will be but lmk if you want to be added or removed from the taglist

contains: fluff, angst, breakup emotions, cussing, childhood friends to lovers to exes?, mentions of kissing, use of y/n (i couldn't avoid it anymore <\3), friendship issues, 1.1k words

There’s a tree in my backyard that’s witnessed almost every big moment Chris and I have ever shared. There used to be a treehouse in it, built one summer before I was born, where I first fell in love. It was just wide enough for our ten-year-old selves to lie head to head, our shoulders just barely kissing, as we listened to music on my first phone.

The treehouse was where, at thirteen, he first leaned in to kiss me, egged on by a dare from our friends. It was where I stopped him and whispered low that I wanted my first kiss to be real and he just stared at me nodding patiently like he understood.

Then, after my dad had torn down the treehouse and replaced it with a hammock bed, this tree is where he asked me to be his girlfriend. Where we lay together, watching the stars through the branches, until he got the courage to make that first kiss real after all.

But it’s also where I sat to make the call that ended us a year ago. Where my mom found me the next morning after I had spent the night crying so hard there was nothing left to do but sleep.

So I guess it’s fitting that I’m laying under this tree, swinging gently with the wind, when Chris finally makes his promised call. I take a deep breath, wondering if this is a step forward or backward before I answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, baby.”

**********

I pull my phone away from my face to check the time, my eyes widening when I see how late it is. We’re two hours into this conversation about everything and absolutely nothing, and it’s getting cold out here. But somehow, going inside and away from this spot feels too much like breaking a spell so I’ve stayed put.

Chris finishes up telling me about some of the craziest fan interactions he's had and I pretend I haven't heard them all on his channels. Pretending to forget all the nights when the distance between us hurt too bad to ignore, and I'd turn on their podcast listening to them argue to chase the ache away. I shake off the memory and sigh, picking at the frays of the hammock.

“What was your favorite tour stop?” I ask. stifling a yawn and pushing off the ground to make the hammock sway.

“Umm…” He starts, and I can hear movement on his end like he’s pacing his room. “Is it cheating to say Boston? It was just a crazy moment to be on a stage in our hometown.”

I smile to myself at the wanderlust in his voice.

“I bet. I wish I could have-” I cut myself off remembering our situation and bite my lip. “I mean, I’m glad you guys got to have that, Chris. I’m sure it was amazing.”

“You could have come, you know.” He says quietly after a beat.

“Chris.”

“No. I know. It’s just…For some reason, I really thought you would. I had this vision of the show ending and I would find you waiting backstage. I played it over and over again in my head. How I’d get the chance to make it right.” He laughs, the sound a little bitter. “Man, it took a lot out of me not to call you that night. Took everything I had.”

“Don’t do this.” I sigh, closing my eyes to fight off the emotions he’s stirring up.

“I don’t know how not to do this.” He admits breathlessly. “I don’t know what it’s like to not want you.”

Neither of us says anything for a few moments letting his declaration hang in the air before I clear my throat.

“We’ve tried this before-” I begin but Chris interjects.

“If at first you don’t succeed-”

“Nothing has changed between us!” I cut in, my tone stern. “It will be exactly the same.”

“You’re wrong. Everything has changed. I know what it’s like to live without you now.”

God. I sit up and stare at my phone, trying to keep my heart from running away from my head. I want to get my car and drive to where he can hold me. But what if all roads to my first love lead me right back to this heartbreak?

“We can’t just go back to how we were before,” I say sadly, shaking my head to clear out the fantasies.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to move forward.” He insists.

I scrunch my face up in thought. “Friends?”

He laughs like I’ve said something hilarious, “Not a chance in hell.”

“Chris, I can’t-”

“We get on a plane back to LA in four weeks. Give me until then. Four weeks to make you fall back in love with me. And if not, I’ll walk away. I’ll call you my friend. I’ll do whatever you want. Just give me a month.”

I take a deep breath and give in, making a small noise of agreement. Chris makes a goofy celebration noise and I smile despite myself before we finally end the call.

What the hell did I just do to myself? I run a hand over my face in disbelief as I wonder how the hell he could ever think I fell out of love with him in the first place.

**********

I wake up the next morning to the smell of breakfast cooking and almost float down the stairs to the kitchen. My mom only ever cooks on special occasions so I’m confused until I turn the corner and find all three of the triplets around our island.

“Uhhh… good morning.” I sputter out, reaching a hand up to smooth down my hair. Chris and Nick smile over at me but Matt won’t meet my eye.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” My mom says, smiling as she slips past me in the doorway. “See you tonight.” She tosses a grin back at the boys and they call out their goodbyes. Nick stands from the stool and comes over to me, wrapping me up in a hug that I melt into immediately.

“We missed you, Y/N.” He says when we pull away, making tears spring to my eyes.

“I missed you guys more,” I say earnestly.

Matt scoffs and stands up, grabbing his keys and pushing past us. “I’ll wait in the car.”

I flinch as the door slams and Nick shrugs apologetically.

“Yeah, about him…” He trails off and Chris picks it up for him.

“I wasn’t the only one you left in the rearview, Y/N. Maybe you should go talk to him.”

I swallow hard knowing they are right. Because before there was me and Chris, there was Matt.

Matt who sat next to me in kindergarten and shared his crayons. Matt who pulled his sleeping cot closer to mine when I was scared at naptime. Matt who was my very first best friend. Our friendship plays on repeat in my mind as I walk out to their car, wondering what I say after a year of silence. A year of ignoring my best friend for a fight that was never his at all.

I hear Kid Cudi playing as I approach his window and bite back a smile at how much nothing ever changes. I knock softly against Matt’s window and he cuts his eyes to me, annoyance evident.

“What do you want?”

part 4

taglist: @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @sturnioloslurps @hearts4chris

[10piecechickenmcnugget]

lineup of the main 4 in my empires dungeon meshi au;; more info under the cut (there’s a lot of it. kudos to you if you read all that)

oli: oli is a halfling. his hometown was destroyed in a monster attack after a nearby dungeon collapsed when he was little, however he doesn’t remember this and no one ever told him. he presumes his parents are dead (they are)

he was taken in by a nearby town of primarily tall-men, who were unfamiliar with traditional halfling naming conventions and as such just named him oliver. he doesn’t technically have a last name

he’s been studying bard magic since he was 15. halflings have a lower magic tolerance, so bard magic is the easiest for him to use, although he’s been known to get nosebleeds, headaches, or flat out pass out on occasion. he’s been exploring dungeons for about 6 years

his first death was caused by him getting caught in the crossfire of one of lizzie’s spells.

lizzie: lizzie is a beastkin, and it’s unsure whether she was created artificially or born as such. she was sold around as essentially a circus attraction izutsumi style before escaping when she was very young and finding herself in the same village oli lived in. because of this she was very untrusting and hostile for a while

oli and lizzie were often lumped together as the town oddballs; lizzie did not like oli at first and he still has several scars from her scratching the shit out of him on multiple occasions.

lizzie warmed up to him eventually, and they’ve been best friends for most of their lives. lizzie left the village as soon as she could along with oli so the two of them could pursue magic, as they were both banned from it as teenagers

she quickly discovered ancient magic and took a passion for it instantly, and it’s the main thing she studies. she’s been exploring dungeons with oli for about 6 years

lizzie is surprisingly skilled at staying alive, as she was her party’s only magic user for a long time and they relied on her to revive or heal them (healing magic is not her strong suit)

her first death happened very late into her career when most of her party was wiped out on a lower floor.

joel: joel was born and raised in the town that took in lizzie and oli. he met them both in school and the three of them have been close friends for many years. he moved out with them as soon as they were all old enough because all 3 of them were tired of being banned from pursuing their interests.

joel is not too skilled with magic, preferring combat. he’s spent years and years training and building his skills so that he can protect his party when needed (which is a lot.) he’s the party leader and lizzie and oli trust his skills and judgement.

joel’s first death involved him being drowned by a siren while trying to save oli.

sausage: sausage is an enigma to say the least. no one really knows anything about him or where he came from. oli asked once and received net zero information. everyone assumes he’s a tall-man but it’s uncertain

oli met sausage at a tavern on the island his party moved to in order to explore the dungeon there. they became friends quickly; and lizzie and joel befriended him as well. they invited sausage to join their party once they decided they wanted to go deeper into the dungeon, since he’s skilled in healing magic

sausage seems to get more and more antsy the deeper they go, but they’ve all mutually agreed not to question it

sausage has not died since joining their party, but it’s unknown if he’s died before that.

[teddypickerry]

A teen!dad jess. He has a best friend from New York (she can have a name or it can be Y/N, you can choose) (they are endgame, jess never had feelings for Rory but she has feelings for Jess, it won't go anywhere) Jess and his best friend have a kid, they co-parent (whether they are dating already or in the future is up to you) Jess gets sent to Stars Hallow, she ends up moving to stars Hallow to, to be close to Jess and so their kid can be with him too (she is emancipated, plus Jess knows she's coming because they keep in contact) if anyone reading this would like to turn this into an actual story, I'm totally down for reading it :) if you choose this request, I look forward to reading it. Thank you!!

↯ 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐆𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎?

pairings — teen dad! jess mariano x y/n

warnings — none!! (unedited tho so…)

word count — 2.9k

a/n — i’m not the biggest fan of how this turned out (feels lowk out of character even tho i typically write jess best bc i am him), but i LOVEDDDD this plot. i plan on making a part two if that’s something you guys would want!! also dad! jess is my fav (as you guys know) so to have him be bowie’s dad??? FUCKING LOVEEE.

BEING SENT TO STARS HOLLOW was worse than one would imagine. especially for jess mariano, a kid who'd been taken from his hometown and placed in a small apartment above a diner with an uncle he hardly knows. this would be enough to drive one mad, one could presume. but to make matters worse, he was leaving behind his son.

the moment liz danes found out her sixteen year old son had gotten a girl pregnant, she freaked out. as any mother would do. but liz wasn't just any mother, she was (to put it lightly) a whack-job. so she spiraled when she figured this one out. what happened when liz danes spiraled you may ask? who was there for her? her sane big brother, luke.

the practical idea seemed to be sending jess to the quaint down of stars hollow. a place where liz grew up, where she knew luke would keep an eye on him. where she also knew he couldn't cause any havoc. and his world wouldn't become corrupt like hers, being a teen parent.

the months of the pregnancy was difficult to be away. y/n was just a girl he'd met at a party, he was sick and tired of his mother's new boyfriend's hurtful words. y/n was going through something similar and they decided they'd lean on one another one night. until three weeks later when she called jess asking him to coffee, and surprising him with something much more. y/n was scared, as any pregnant sixteen year old would be. being without jess didn't help her case.

the teenage boy didn't let the separation get to them however. his nights sneaking out were spent at a phone booth in the middle of town, talking to y/n about everything and anything. his breaks at the diner were calling to ask about doctors appointments. sure, she had just been a girl he'd met at a party. but the emotional bond of a baby knitted the two together. they were scared kids, they had no one but one another. so they became much more than kids who once went to a party. they were friends.

when y/n went into labor, jess ran out of school like his life depended on it. hoping into his car and speeding back to new york. luckily making it so he could see his son born just in time. his first time meeting his son was only his fourth time seeing y/n. the fourth of many, many visits. stars hollow became less and less entertaining to him as time went on. especially after coming back almost two weeks after his son was born. the pranks, the stealing, the teasing around with this girl rory... it wasn't anything to him. he missed his son, he missed the woman who had his son. jess mariano wanted to be with his family. because for the first time in his life, he had a family. someone loved him, and he loved someone.

"1984 is the most overrated 'classic' book i've ever read," rory gilmore smiled at jess with a teasing look. now, almost a year after his son's birth, jess mariano was nearing eighteen. his adolescence was coming to an end (although it did when the stick turned pink). the toying around was still very much in his nature. hence the conversation with the good girl in a pink sweater.

"nu uh, it's a classic. you can't just hate on 1984," jess counters while standing behind the diner's countertop. the diner was slow, despite it being around the early afternoon and a sunday. which is why two teenagers were sharing false opinions like it was bible. he didn't like her — he was sure of that. ever since bowie mariano was born (guess who named him), jess's feelings had become aware. the love he felt for his son was prominent in his everyday life. unlike anything he'd ever felt before. it was hard for him to even imagine ever having feelings for someone. not when being a dad was his number one priority.

"you're just saying that," rory laughed at his words once more. her late night talks with her mother about jess seeming to not be recalled. the ones where lorelai stressed to rory what jess was going through as a teen parent, something she knew all too well. especially being away from his kid. in her eyes, he was a christopher who'd left his rory. lorelai didn't exactly want her daughter involved with that. but it was hard to resist when he kept giving rory that james dean look. matched with the leather jacket and the book references.

"when are you going to see bowie?" lorelai asked the teenage boy, attempting to remind her daughter of his priorities. jess didn't see this as a question with ulterior motives. he knew lorelai had a deep understanding of him, whether she'd like to admit it or not. "soon, hopefully."

"is y/n liking her new place?" luke questions genuinely from lorelai's side, being reminded of jess's child's mother who he'd grown fond of. "it's kinda hard to like a place where you're crashing on your friend's sofa bed." jess scoffs, being reminded of his friend's condition. when y/n had first gotten pregnant, jess was aware of the darkness in her home. especially when she freaked out to him one night. the first time they opened up to one another. she was too scared to tell her dad about the baby, knowing he'd hurt her.

less than two years later, y/n was emancipated. working a part-time job in the city. where her friends helped watch bowie when necessary. along with (hesitantly) liz, whenever jess made sure she was sober and had an okay boyfriend. it was a lonely life: just like jess's.

"that poor girl," lorelai commented with a sympathetic look making jess's stomach twist. he hated thinking about the living conditions of his family, he hated thinking of being apart from them. but when he did, he couldn't stop. which is why that night, when luke came upstairs to the apartment after closing, jess stopped him to have a serious conversation. "can i talk to you?"

luke searched his nephew's face for sincerity once he heard those words. curious if this was gonna be a 'steely dan sucks' conversation or an actual serious one. a rare option for the teenage boy. "yeah, what's up?"

there was a deep expression anguished on jess's face as he sat at the table. he was clearly unsure how to put his words, which was prominent in his eyes. "i... i can't be away from bowie anymore. i can't let y/n live in that shithole. they're my responsibility."

luke heard his nephew's words clearly. he agreed with every word, a sigh erupting when he processed the stress his teenage nephew was experiencing over this. "where are you going with this, jess?" the diner owner questioned with a calm tone. he still wanted the best for his nephew. he still wanted him to finish high school and start a worthy life. one he didn't want to be started by running off to new york and working to provide for his family. "i need to be with them one way or another. i can't be away from bowie, i can't do that to my kid. i can't be my dad."

"you're not, kid. you're nothing like jimmy, i'm telling you that right now. you would do anything to be with bowie and that proves you're better than him," luke explained before letting out a sigh and nodding his head. "you're a good guy, jess."

a conversation continued throughout the night until the two finally came to a conclusion. or at least luke did. taking matters into his own hands, he picked up the phone once his nephew hit the pillow. a hushed tone rushing into verses of explanations until it all made sense.

the next morning, jess mariano woke up like any other day. not too long after he woke up he went down to the diner to get started on work. his thanksgiving break had begun, so his monday would be spent annotating a new book for his son in between rush hours. it was when two familiar faces entered the diner that he hardly glanced up, noticing the gilmores immediately. "hey jess, how's it going?"

"well, i'm not bleeding or anything so..." jess shrugged towards the woman while he scribbled in a final note for an older bowie. rory kept her eyes on him while luke handed the two mugs of coffee. he had something in his head, especially when he kept glancing out the window every few seconds. "that's good," lorelai nodded before turning to luke.

"what are you reading now? more jane austen?" rory teased while eyeing the boy and taking a sip of her warm coffee. his eyes didn't dare look up from her while he shut the book, "uh huh." he nodded with a thin lipped smile. rory noticed the children's book in his hands and grinned, "didn't know you were that behind. that makes sense with your book taste though."

"this is bowie's, i'm just writing some stuff in the margins for him for when he learns to read," jess shrugged without noticing the sudden change in demeanor when he mentioned his son. the baby had never been to stars hollow. jess also rarely brought up his son to anyone, especially stars hollow-ers. miss patty and babette already whispered about the rebellion enough as it was. he didn't need to add to it by opening up to people who didn't care about him. "oh... that's sweet," rory forced a smile before sinking down into her seat. she felt shorter.

jess picked up the coffee to begin to refill a few cups throughout the diner. his stance was interrupted once the diner phone began to ring, luke noticed this quickly. it wasn't long before he grabbed the coffee from jess's hand and hardly offered to do refills for him instead. jess knew luke was up to something but hesitantly took the phone call, "luke's."

"nice greeting," a voice echoed on the other side making jess's infamous smirk spread across his face. y/n. "well, i thought i'd ask you to marry me. but i was worried our meat supplier was on the other line," jess teased into the phone while his hand went in his pocket. he subconsciously turned around so his back was to the rest of the diner. wanting to be alone with y/n, as if that was possible through this.

"thought so," y/n hummed with an obvious smile. "hey, bowie's missing his dad."

"is bowie's mom also missing bowie's dad?" jess asked with his typical teasing tone towards his friend. "bowie's mom may be. but she doesn't exactly want to give him the satisfaction of that. bowie's dad is very cocky," y/n says through the phone while luke spots something through the window and smiles.

the sound of the bell was a familiar one. reminding the people in the diner that someone had arrived. jess was so used to it now that he didn't bat an eye typically, but this time he glanced around his shoulder for a moment. his eyes glancing back at the figure stood infront of the door. jess's brown eyes locked on them for a second as he dropped the wired phone and bolted past the counter to them.

stood before his eyes was y/n and bowie. the eleven month old was in her arms with a pacifier between his lips. y/n wore a smile while she placed her phone in her pocket with a free hand. she was engulfed in jess's scent immediately as he threw the two into his arms. cigarettes, cheap cologne, and coffee erupting comfortably into her. "hey, watch out i have a baby."

jess ignored her words, but lightened his grip on her while taking bowie out of her arms to hold him. "bowie, hey..." his voice trailed off as he held onto his son. he was interrupted with emotion by being with his son once again. because as much as fatherhood was something he never wished upon himself, ever desired whatsoever, it had turned into the best thing that ever happened to him.

"hi kid," luke greeted the teenage girl while walking over to give her a side hug. he turned his attention towards jess who was hugging his baby with a grin he hadn't seen in awhile. "i thought about our talk last night, jess. you were right."

jess glanced over at his uncle before looking back at y/n with a smile. which shocked even him, because a smile was not something he'd done while being in stars hollow. "so..." luke's voice trailed off while he gave the floor to y/n. who took it and looked at jess, "i think bowie needs to be with his dad... and his mom."

the group shared a few looks, mixed with confusion and happiness. "i asked lorelai for a favor, y/n and bowie are gonna stay at the inn for a few weeks. until you guys can figure out a place." luke started with a nod. "you're gonna be eighteen in a few months, you're gonna graduate in a few months. i want you to do that, jess. so, i brought you some courage... as cheesy as that sounds."

jess looked between the two for a moment before sharing a nod with his uncle, as if a thank you in their own language.

"hey, i'm lorelai. it's nice to meet you i've heard so much about you. we seem to have a lot in common," lorelai interjected as she walked over and introduced herself to y/n. y/n knew her fair share of scoop of the town. her daily phone calls to jess were hardly just baby talk. she'd spent a lot of them telling him to go out with lorelai's daughter, who seemed good for him. but every-time... something was holding him back. "yeah you too, i'm y/n. thank you for everything, by the way. you really didn't have to let me."

"c'mon we're moms, we help eachother out. we can be like desperate housewives. but with no men," lorelai smiled while giving y/n's hand a squeeze. "oh! this is my bowie, rory."

"hey," y/n greeted with an awkward wave towards the other teenage girl who still seemed in shock by the situation. she forced a smile and waved, "hey."

the dispute was a lot more awkward than y/n could have hoped. but a sense of envy had taken over the both of them as they reflected on past or current relations with jess. an awkwardness that washed away quickly when y/n’s eyes locked back on jess and her son. a favorite sight of hers.

“c’mon,” jess nodded towards y/n while she took the baby out of his arms. he grabbed her bag and placed a free hand on her back, mumbling goodbyes before exiting the diner with his two. the three took the scenic tour towards the inn. bowie cracking a million smiles at the tons of birds in sight. the two teenagers reciprocating the action with shared giggles at the baby’s happiness.

the moment they entered the room, jess sat down with bowie to let y/n unpack a little bit. while the two caught up on unspoken things. “so… that was rory,” y/n says suggestively while unpacking her toiletries in the bathroom. jess was sprawled out on the bed with bowie in his arms, playing superman. he turned to her once she erupted from the bathroom and took a seat beside him. “that was rory.”

“she’s pretty,” y/n nodded with a small smile. in an attempt to be polite about jess’s possible love interest, yet he seemed hardly interested when bowie was around. “i guess,” jess shrugged before holding bowie back up in his arms. “have you asked her out yet?”

“i’m not too focused on that,” jess answered while clearly wanting the conversation to be done. y/n only smiled at the sight of the baby, gently rubbing his back. jess’s eyes locked onto her once more. watching her look at bowie with all the love made his eyes gleam. the way her smile spread with love, only made his heart beat faster happily. “thanks.”

y/n glanced over to him at his word, furrowing her eyebrows gently while she looked into his eyes. “for what?”

“for being here, i guess.” he mumbles while turning back to face bowie and bring him closer to him, the baby resting his head on jess’s chest. y/n smiled at the sight while leaning into the pillow, happily watching the two. “of course.”

so, the two laid back into the bed. smiling at the sight of their baby falling into a comforting sleep. followed by y/n minutes later, at a moment of peace. finally having someone she trusted with her baby so she could peacefully have a break. jess shut his eyes to the sound of the light breaths of both his favorite people. never having felt something so perfect once again in his life.

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 1

A/N: New series alert! This is a time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a reader insert. I've had this one in my head for a while, so I hope you enjoy it! It'll get spicy soon, but this chapter is mostly setup. Hang in there! I think this'll be good! Special thanks to my beta reader, @ccab for helping me with this one, as always.

Warnings: none really. This is mostly fluffy setup! Oh yeah, there's an erection lol

Word count: ~2.7k

You've been an Elvis fan for your entire life. Your grandmother was a big fan and it's something the two of you shared while she was alive. Since she passed, you've become even more obsessed, traveling to Graceland and anywhere Elvis performed whenever you have a chance. It's weird, but you have this strange feeling like there's something that ties you to him, despite the fact that he died 10 years before you were born. You don't really tell people this, but everyone who knows you knows how much you love him. Your roommate is consistently amazed at the lengths you'll go to in order to experience something related to him.

"You're really going to miss class for half a week to go to Tupelo?"

"Yes. I don't know why, but I need to be there at the same time he was."

"Y/n, it's 2007. He's not going to be there."

"I know that, Katie. I can't explain it. Just mark me present in algebra, please." She shakes her head with her eyebrows raised.

"If you insist."

******

It's 1957 and Elvis has had a small break since his last show, so he spent it at his new home in Memphis. The house is everything he's ever dreamed of for his family, so he's almost reluctant to go back on the road. Still, he's promised to do another show in his hometown after the one last year was so successful. Going back to Tupelo is always a strange experience for him, especially now that his financial situation has changed so much. His memories there are difficult, at best, so it's strange to go back as a famous performer.

He shakes his head to refocus on the conversation he's in about getting things ready to leave. The Colonel is there and he'll need to get in a car with him soon. No time to ponder the philosophy of how much things can change in a few short years.

"My boy, are you ready to leave? We need to make sure we have plenty of time to get there before the show."

"Yeah, I'm ready. Let me grab my suitcase." He picks up the piece of luggage and wraps his mother in a hug. She whispers in his ear.

"Love you, booby. We'll see you soon." He nods and kisses her cheek. Then, he makes his way to the car and slides into the back seat. Next stop: Tupelo.

******

When you get to Tupelo, you head straight to the fairgrounds where Elvis played his show in '57. There's something magical about being there exactly 50 years later. You wander around the site, closing your eyes to imagine what it must have been like to be there to see him. There's a strange pang in your heart like you miss him, even though you've never met him.

******

Elvis is putting on his best show for all the screaming girls in the audience. He's dressed in a gold jacket and black pants and he's not holding back at all in his performance. He sings, he dances, he wiggles, and the girls go wild.

Something about the energy of the crowd and the feeling of being on stage has him excited. He does his best to hide it during the performance and is pretty sure he manages to keep anyone from noticing. But as soon as the show is over, he knows he's going to need to find somewhere private to either take care of himself or at least adjust his pants so that it's less obvious. He runs down the steps of the stage and heads behind it to try to find some kind of place to do what he needs to do.

As he's walking around quickly, he gets the strangest feeling in his stomach and then runs smack into a girl.

******

You're wandering around where the stage would've been when you run into him. The shock of meeting another person here at the fairgrounds after dark is nothing compared to what you feel when you look up at him as he grabs your upper arms to steady you.

"Honey, be careful. I'm on a mission here."

"Holy shit. You're..."

"Yes. Now I have to..." He looks you up and down and realizes the strange outfit you're wearing. Then he looks up and realizes the stage has disappeared. He looks around frantically, forgetting that he needs to posture himself to hide his erection.

"You're... how? Oh God." You can't believe what's happening. You're pretty sure you must have fallen asleep somewhere. You pinch your arm, just to be sure. But no, this is Elvis Presley. And he has a massive erection.

"What the hell is going on here, honey?" He looks into your eyes fearfully.

"I don't know. Are you really... you?"

"I'm Elvis Presley, if that's what you're asking. Where are we?"

"We're in Tupelo. At the fairgrounds."

"No, that's where I just was." He looks around again and you look down, blushing.

"Are you... are you okay?" You ask sheepishly. He gasps and turns away from you to rearrange himself. When he turns back around, he grabs you by your upper arms and looks into your eyes again.

"What is happening?" Just then, the security guard calls to you from across the grounds.

"Hey! You can't be here!"

"Oh, shit, we need to go. Come with me." You grab his hand and pull him toward the exit. He follows along reluctantly.

"I'm sorry; I know this is weird, but we need to go." You break into a jog and he jogs along with you, still holding your hand. When you finally make it back out to your car in the parking lot, you stop and catch your breath.

"Okay, honey, what the hell is going on?"

"I need you to not freak out when I tell you this." He shrugs.

"I can't make any promises."

"You, well, you travelled through... through time."

"I don't understand."

"Elvis, it's 2007. You've travelled 50 years into the future."

His face goes white and you're afraid he's about to pass out, so you quickly open the car door and let him fall into your front seat.

"The future?"

"Yes."

"2007?!"

"Yes."

"That's why you're dressed so strangely. And why this car is... different..." He looks around your car incredulously. You nod.

"Is this a thing people do in the future? Travel through time?!"

"Oh absolutely not. I don't know how this happened. Also my outfit is not strange. Your outfit is strange." He smiles a little and then leans back against the seat, wiping his forehead with his hand. You walk around the car and slide into the driver's seat. He turns and looks at you.

"Well, I guess I'm stuck here. Where are we going?"

"You're really Elvis Presley?"

"I'm pretty sure." You shake your head, trying not to cry, but the tears start to stream down your face. "Aw, honey, don't cry. Why are you crying?"

"I can't believe it's you. I've loved you forever."

"How do you know who I am?" You open your mouth to answer and then close it quickly. You'll have to be careful with what you say, so you don't tell him too much about his future. Assuming you'll be able to get him back where he came from.

"My grandma was a big fan of your music in the '50s."

"Oh. Your grandma?! I'm sorry. I keep forgetting what year you said it is."

"It's 2007. Exactly 50 years from where you were."

"50 years. Wow. So I'm 72?! Wherever I am." You swallow hard. You can't tell him. You decide to change the subject.

"I need to go home. I guess you'll have to come with me. Unless you object?"

"Where else am I going to go?"

"That's a good point. Back to campus we go."

"Campus?"

"Yeah, I'm in college. You're gonna have to stay at my dorm. I hope that's not too weird." He looks at you with an incredulous smile.

"Everything about this is weird."

"That's valid." You both laugh as you start the car and drive away.

******

When you pull into a parking space on campus, it's close to 1am. He yawns. You forget how tired he must be. You've actually been able to talk quite a bit on the drive and you're surprised at how easy he is to talk to.

"Are we going to have to sneak?" He looks at you curiously.

"Well, no. This is a coed dorm. No one cares."

"A coed dorm?! What has the future come to?"

"Oh, honey, you have no idea." You make your way to the elevator and ride up to your floor. When you get to your door, you realize you're going to have to come up with a story for your roommate.

"Okay. You're an ETA. Follow my lead."

"I'm sorry. A what?"

"Elvis tribute artist. Impersonator. Basically you're a guy that likes to dress up as you." He laughs.

"That exists?"

"Ha. Yeah. Try not to ask too many questions." You put your key in the door and open it carefully. Hopefully, Katie is already in bed and you won't have to have this conversation.

But she's not.

"And just what kind of hour do you call- oh. Hello." She stops her sarcastic greeting when she realizes you're not alone.

"Katie, this is... John. John, this is Katie, my roommate."

"Nice to meet you, Katie." He extends his hand and she takes it slowly. She turns to you.

"I didn't expect you to pick up a stray in Tupelo."

"Yeah, well, look at him. How could I say no?" Her eyes wander back to Elvis and she shrugs.

"I can't say that I blame you. Okay, well, you two don't have too much fun. I'm going to bed now that I know you're home safely." She turns and heads into her bedroom. Thankfully, you live in a suite style dorm, so you each have your own room. You gesture for him to follow you and head into your room.

"You're going to have to stay in here with me. If you sleep on the couch, it'll be too weird. I'm sorry."

"Does she think...? Is this something you do a lot?" He looks at you with a glint in his eye.

"I mean, not a lot. No. Honestly, like never." You feel yourself blush and you look at your feet. He puts his hand under your chin and tips your face up to look at him.

"It's okay. I'm learning quickly that the future is different. I don't mind staying in here with you." Your stomach flip flops when he touches you and you're overwhelmed with a need for him to kiss you. He seems to feel something too because he turns from you and clears his throat.

You go to your drawers and dig for something he can wear. Luckily, you wear a lot of men's sweatpants and oversized t-shirts to sleep, so you get an outfit together for him and show him the bathroom to change. When he comes back out, you laugh. He seems so out of place dressed so casually. You change into pajamas and wash your face, coming back out to find him settled into half of your double bed. You crawl into the bed next to him and he turns over on his side facing you.

"Thank you for taking care of me. You didn't have to do that. You don't know me from Adam."

"Well, I somehow feel like this is my fault. I'm not sure how, but I feel responsible. And I do know you, kind of. Thank you for trusting me to take care of you." He smiles.

"I didn't have much choice. But it's strange. I feel like I know you, somehow. Like we met once and forgot about it. But I know that's not possible. Either way. I'm glad to be here with you." The feeling that you want him to kiss you is back. But he doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes and is asleep pretty quickly. You roll over and try to go to sleep too, ignoring the racing thoughts in your head.

You really have Elvis Presley in your bed.

******

When you wake up, you're tucked up under his chin with his arm around you. You're not sure how you got this snuggled up, but it feels nice and for a second you forget who he is. He stirs about the same time you do and stretches, wrapping his arms around you tighter. When you realize the situation, you sit up.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, honey, it was nice." He yawns and pulls you back down to him. You relax against his chest and he kisses the top of your head.

"You don't even know me." You whisper.

"Yes, I do. And I like you. Is that okay?" You nod and wrap your arms around him.

"What are we doing today?" He seems to be taking being stuck in 2007 in stride. What you don't know is that he's actually really grateful for the break from his performance schedule. And he can't explain it, but he knows you somehow. Or at least, that's how it feels.

"Oh, well, I already missed my 9am class, so I guess we will hang out around town. We need to go to the mall and get you some clothes. You can't be wandering around in that ridiculous gold jacket." He laughs.

"What do guys wear these days?" You think about the skinny jeans and band tees and you're not sure what to tell him. This might be harder than you thought.

******

At the mall, you take him to a store that sells guy's clothes and watch him as he marvels at the modern styles. He's immediately drawn to the studded belts and you laugh, thinking of the studded jumpsuits he'll wear in the '70s. You find some jeans that aren't too skinny and he stands looking at the wall of band t-shirts.

"All of these are rock'n'roll groups?!"

"Well, we don't call it that anymore, but pretty much."

"Which ones do you like?" You point to a few of them and tell him about the music you listen to that isn't his.

"Can we listen to them?"

"Of course! But clothes first." You take him to the fitting rooms and he picks out a few pairs of pants and some button down shirts. You also let him pick out a studded belt and he goes with a pink one with silver studs. When you get to the checkout counter, he's absolutely shocked at how much it costs. You assure him that this is normal and pay for his things. As you walk out, he leans over and whispers.

"If I ever get back to '57, I'll never complain about the cost of things ever again." You laugh and take the hand he offers as you walk through the mall. He's amazed at how many stores there are and all the noise and technology that's around you. He keeps stopping and looking at things, so it takes you a while to make it through. He stops at a calendar kiosk and finds a calendar with photos of himself. You quickly yank it away from him and put it back.

"You can't see that."

"Aw, honey, why not?"

"I can't let you learn anything about your future." He looks at you with concern.

"Is it that bad?"

"Well, not exactly. I just don't want to ruin anything for you. You have to live it."

"If I ever get back."

"You must, or this calendar wouldn't exist. We'll figure something out." He puts his arm around your shoulders as you move on through the mall.

When you get back to the car, you pull a cd from the holder on your car visor and put it in for him to listen to. His eyes widen as the fast-paced drums and guitar chords start.

"Wow."

"This is what you started. You made this happen."

"It's so... it's a lot. But I like it. A lot." He starts moving to the music and you laugh.

"I'd love to see these guys live."

"I have. It's pretty great." He looks at you with envy as you start to sing along to the music. Somewhere inside him, he kind of hopes you won't be able to find a way for him to get back. Everything in this time intrigues him and the thought of leaving you is certainly not appealing, especially once he hears you sing.

Maybe he'll just stay with you forever.

******

Until Chapter 2!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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[danikamariewrites]

heyyy, could I please request a Rhys X reader where the reader is feeling quite isolated, all her friends seem to have moved on in life without her and she's just realised how alone she feels. in her head the inner circle still feel like Rhys's friends, and she doesn't have a circle of her own and is just feeling down? and Rhys comforts her? don't mind me I'm goin' thru it lol sorry, thank you and much love to you

Isolated

Rhys x reader

A/n: I feel you anon. I go through this sometimes bc all my friends live far from me and I don’t have any in my hometown so it’s very isolating.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, slight depression

The weather seemed to match your mood today. Glum and rainy. You were sat on a couch in the town house with your knees pulled to your chest as you watched the rain roll down the window.

One of your best friends had moved over two months ago with her husband to the Winter Court to be closer to his family when their baby is born. You were happy for her, but she was the last of your friend group left in Velaris.

You were feeling lonely without them. It felt like they were all taking the next step in life with their careers or starting their family. Not that you didn’t love your life with Rhys. You’re the center of his universe and you can’t even describe how much you love him.

You just felt like you had nothing left to offer your court. But you didn’t want to move, your whole life is here. And you were working here and there with Rhys with court problems. There wasn’t much you could do until you were married and an official Lady.

And you definitely didn’t want a child. You weren’t there yet with Rhys or in the right headspace to be a mother. It would be unfair for everyone involved.

So you just sat around and read all day. Or walked around the city. Just shopping and seeing what was new. The cycle was getting old. If you went shopping in the Rainbow one more time you were going to throw yourself off the House of Wind.

Mor had tried to invite you out with her and offered to just hang out at home, but you declined almost every time. It felt like she was just offering out of pity. You didn’t want a pity hangout.

You love Mor, sometimes it feels like she, Amren, Cassian, and Azriel weren’t really your friends. You liked them and all but they came as a package deal with Rhys. Lately you felt like you weren’t part of that.

You broke yourself from your reeling thoughts as thunder sounded in the distance, lightning following moments after. You unwrap yourself to take a sip of tea sitting on the side table. Sipping on the liquid you grimace at the cold taste.

Letting out a sigh you set the mug back down. Unmotivated to get a new serving. You wrap your arms tighter around your knees going back to watching the storm.

Rhys padded down the stairs stopping when he noticed you curled into the corner of the couch. He gently approached you, laying a hand on your head, smoothing down your hair. “Hi darling.” His voice soft, “Are you alright?” Rhys knew you weren’t. He didn’t want to push or invade your mind without your permission. Rhys was getting close to doing that though. You were worrying him and you wouldn’t tell him what was weighing you down.

You sat there leaning into his touch for a while. You felt tears prick your eyes as you tried holding them back. You kept swelling back the lump growing in your throat as you tried to get a simple ‘I’m ok’ out.

The tears slip out of the corners of your eyes as you keep watching the storm rage. Rhys smells the salt of your tears. He panics and sits next to you, moving his hand from your head to cradle your cheek.

“Hey,” he coos, “y/n, what’s wrong darling? Please tell me. I’ve been so worried about you.” Your eyes slide over his worried face. Letting out a shaky breath you blink the tears out of your eyes. “I’m just sad Rhys. I know I have you, but I feel so alone.”

Rhys’s face dropped into a deep frown. He knew you missed your friends. Though he was unaware how much it affected you until now. “I want life to keep going, and I want to keep doing things. I’m just not in a good place.”

Rhys wiped your tears away and held his arms open for you. Leaning forward you embrace the love of your life, letting your tears fall. “I’m so sorry. I’m here to support you through whatever you want to do y/n. I want what will make you happy.” “Thank you, Rhys.” You sniffled out.

The two of you sat like that for the rest of the day. Rhys helped you come up with new things you could. Encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone and even take Mor up on a night out. He even made you laugh.

You felt like a weight had been lifted of your shoulders after talking to Rhys. You had hope that things would change soon.

[i520u]

star-crossed ✩°｡ ⋆⸜

ten. you

You’ve known Gyuvin for much longer. You still remembered how your hands were trembling when you first walked into the class. It was 9 in the morning, and nobody seemed to care about you being a new student. You thought that that was the best case scenario, although the lack of reaction had only served in making you feel like a loser.

You remembered Gyuvin walking all the way from the opposite side of the classroom to where you were sitting, just to introduce himself to you. He told you his name, and that he was born in Seoul. He told you that if you needed any help, he was more than willing to assist you in anything.

You were very thankful for him, and you thought that the two of you could be great friends then. However, you quickly realised that Gyuvin had his own group of friends, and you were too shy to simply barge into their conversations and force yourself into the friendship. Therefore, although the two of you were considered as friends from the very first day of school, he didn’t quite feel like one until 4 months later.

You seemed lost in your own thoughts as you recalled your first meeting with Gyuvin, you weren’t really sure why you even thought about him all of a sudden. Perhaps it was the nostalgic feeling from unpacking all of your childhood stuff from the move-in boxes, or maybe it was the fact that Yujin had just announced that he was coming over to help around the house.

As if on cue, you watched the very person you were thinking about walk into your house, accompanied by Yujin. Like a typical Korean visitor, he immediately walked past you and towards your mother, introducing himself properly. A smile that was barely visible was formed on your face as you watched your friend. You didn’t realise even the smallest things such as the customs of your hometown could be missed.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, your eyes darted to Gyuvin who was now in front of you. “Are you okay? You look distracted.” He asked, a hint of curiosity evident in his voice. You shook your head as you let out a dry chuckle. “I guess I am. I’m a little tired from this cleaning spree,” you admitted, looking behind at the mountains of boxes that were still untouched.

“It’s not like Yujin is of much help. He’s just been trying to find anything embarrassing I owned as a kid,” you continued, scratching the back of your neck from feeling flustered. Gyuvin giggled as he looked over at your younger brother. “He’s so cute! You’re lucky. My younger siblings hate me.” He pouted, he put his hands on his hips to add into the dramatic effect.

You gave him a look, “I wonder why.” You smiled, followed by Gyuvin’s fake-gasp. You could feel someone approaching you, your gaze leaving Gyuvin, and towards the presence, only to be met with Yujin. He was standing awfully close to you, which made you wonder what he wanted.

Yujin put an arm around your shoulder, leaning into your ear to whisper something. “Stop flirting with him, it’s gross.” He backed away, his face morphed into a disgusted expression. You raised an eyebrow at your younger brother, swatting his arm away from you. “You’re such a freak,” you mumbled, loud enough for Yujin to hear, but quiet enough that your mother wouldn’t.

Gyuvin only stared at the two of you in confusion, but decided not to get himself in the middle of two siblings bickering. “Who should I help? Ms Han? Y/N? Yujinnie?” He asked, a proud smile on his face as he waited for someone to ask for his help. “You should help Y/N. Her noodle hands can’t even carry one box by herself.” Yujin continued teasing, you were about to give his shoulder a hard slap but he saw it coming, and dodged it.

“Also because I don’t want to hear Gyuvin waffling about his friendship breakup. This cleaning spree is already annoying as it is.” He continued, immediately making his way to your mother. Gyuvin frowned at Yujin’s lack of empathy for his situation — although he admits, it wasn’t a big deal — you on the other hand, was quite concerned with what Yujin had said. Friendship breakup? Did he get into a fight with Gunwook?

You noticed Gyuvin looking over at you as if he was waiting for your order. The need to be nosy and know more about the ‘friendship breakup’ your brother mentioned was heightened. You told Gyuvin that you needed help bringing the boxes upstairs to where your room was, and he happily helped carry the multiple boxes at once.

You were a little nervous bringing a boy, or anyone in general, into your room for the first time ever, you never had the chance to do so back then — when your parents used to fight all the time. It felt all too weird, and uncomfortably new.

Shaking off the bad memory, you tried starting a conversation with Gyuvin to distract yourself from it. “Did you get into a fight with Gunwook or something?” You asked as soon as he settled down in your room. Gyuvin’s eyes widened a little, his mouth slightly hung open when you mentioned his friend’s name. He shook his head, “not just him — but it’s not really a fight, I guess I’m just upset.” He sighed, his hands wandering around the box to figure a way to open it.

You could tell from his body language that he was avoiding eye contact, you were unsure if he was uncomfortable with the topic of friendship, or if he was just embarrassed of being upset over something that people might assume is small.

You took out a picture of you and Minji from the box he was practically hugging, looking away from him in a way to make him feel less uncomfortable. “You don’t have to talk about it,” you told him as you placed the picture on your nightstand. “No, I do want to talk about it, but I feel silly — I feel dramatic.” Gyuvin sighed, standing up to walk towards you.

Eyes darting towards the tall boy, you thought of teasing him a little — just to cheer him up. “Does Gyuvinnie need a hug?” You laughed, you didn’t really spread your arms to welcome him into a hug, it was really meant to be a joke. Although, upon seeing how his eyes lit up, and how quickly he nodded to your question, you felt a little bad leaving him hanging.

You sighed, at that moment, he reminded you of Yujin. You gave his shoulder a pat, before leaning in to hug him. It was an awkward hug — you’ve never actually hugged him before, there was even space in between the two of you, it was honestly laughable. Gyuvin appreciated it, though.

“Thanks, dude,” he mumbled, his head resting on your shoulder. “It’s Ricky, by the way, I know he’s your boyfriend, or whatever.” He continued mumbling. Your heart skipped a beat upon hearing his name, but you kept a calm composure — you didn’t want to let Ricky’s best friend, of all people, figure out that you’ve got a massive crush on him.

You broke away from the prolonged awkward hug, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. You raised an eyebrow at him, you were about to correct him on his statement, “are you guys dating?” He asked, cutting you off from what you were about to say. You pressed your lips together, looking away from Gyuvin as you shook your head.

“Okay, I won’t feel like I’m badmouthing him then,” he sighed, “he’s just been ignoring me, for a few days now. Thing is, I don’t know what I’ve done, he’s gotten mad at me before, but it has never been this bad before. Not to mention, I’m starting to feel left out by both him and Gunwook because of this.” He started rambling, but you tried your best to listen to him attentively.

Gyuvin looked sad as he tried to tell you why he felt left out, of course you knew what he was talking about. You were there when Ricky invited Gunwook to stay on that day. You didn’t ask about Gyuvin, thinking it wasn’t really your business. Who would’ve known it would actually lead into something as big as this.

Gyuvin was sitting on the floor, it was clear he didn’t want you to see his sad expression. You knew he was sulking about it — rightfully so. You could tell that Gyuvin really cherishes and loves his friends, and he was evidently upset. Maybe he just convinced himself that he was being dramatic. Although, in your point of view, you would’ve reacted the same way if Minji left you out the way Ricky did.

You got off of your bed, you let your back slide against your bed as you sat down on the floor with Gyuvin. You were hesitant, at first, but you powered through with what you had in mind. Your arm reached out to wrap itself around his shoulders, in hopes that it’ll give him comfort.

With a sigh, you gently caressed the side of his shoulder. You were unsure with what to do, but you let your sisterly instincts take charge of your actions. “It’s alright, Gyuvin, your feelings are valid. You shouldn’t make yourself feel stupid for feeling upset.” You gave his shoulder a light squeeze as you whispered.

Gyuvin’s head was still looking down to the floor — he wasn’t crying, obviously — but he just didn’t want you to see him when he’s sad. “You know,” he exhaled, as if trying to gain courage to look at you, “me and Ricky, we’ve been friends for 7 years now. If there was any conflict between us, we’d always talk it out. Which is why I’m so sad that he’s just ignoring me this time around.” His shoulders dropped in disappointment.

You honestly felt sorry for him, you wondered what made Ricky react the way he did towards Gyuvin. You didn’t really know Ricky that well, so you didn’t want to judge him after only hearing Gyuvin’s side of the story. “When I get into an argument with Minji, we’d ignore each other for a while too. I guess it’s just normal. Maybe give him a week, and then you should try talking to him again!” You advised, you weren’t sure how useful your input was, but Gyuvin seemed satisfied enough.

He caught you by surprise when he pulled you into a hug — almost like a sideway hug, if that was even a thing. “I really needed somebody that wouldn’t belittle me for my feelings, thanks Y/N.” He mumbled as his head rested on top of yours. You nodded, unsure with how you were supposed to respond.

He seemed to be in good spirits afterwards, immediately suggesting that the two of you should get back to work. He pointed out that the most important thing was to hang the curtains in your room — even lecturing you about how dangerous it is to have no curtains for privacy reasons as a girl.

“I would’ve never let my little sister stay in a room with no curtains! Who knows what could happen to her. There’s so many creeps out there, Y/N. You can never be too careful.” He sighed. You didn’t have a ladder to make it easier for you to hang your curtains (which was also the reason why you never hung them in the first place), Gyuvin suggested that he’ll do it while standing on a chair.

The two of you continued talking and joking around as he carefully did the task at hand. He was aware of how clumsy he could get, so he was being extra careful despite having fun with the conversation the two of you were having. The two of you mostly bonded over having younger siblings. You learned that Gyuvin genuinely adores his siblings, and for a second you were glad that Yujin had someone like him to lean onto.

As Gyuvin was stepping down, you could hear someone calling your name, ultimately distracting you. Your grip on the chair loosened as you looked back to the door of your room to see if there was actually someone calling for you. The chair wobbled a little, although Gyuvin already had one foot down. The wobble did affect his balance. Out of panic, he roughly gripped onto your shoulders for support.

Your focus went back to Gyuvin as you grabbed onto his waist to help him regain his balance. The push and pull between the two of you ultimately led to both of you falling, but Gyuvin was quick enough to not fall on you. “You fucking idiot,” he laughed, whispering the curse word.

You let out a giggle as you stared at him from the corner of your eye. “My head is gonna have a bump,” you told him, which only made him laugh even more. “You deserved that for being a dumbass.” He exclaimed, you would’ve continued laughing with him, but it came to a halt when you realised somebody was indeed standing by the door.

Your eyes widened a little at the familiar face. Familiar, handsome face. “Ricky? What are you doing here?” You asked, pushing yourself up from the floor. Your hands quickly dusting off whatever that might’ve been on your shirt, your mind automatically telling you to fix yourself in front of him. Ricky didn’t seemed as delighted to see you, his hand was holding something familiar.

“I stopped by to give you these. I already washed them for you,” his voice was still soft as he talked to you, but his gaze was somewhat… cold? He just seemed unamused. You recalled what Gyuvin had told you, and you figured whatever happened between them was the reason why the air was tense. Passing you the clothes that you had previously left at his house, you noticed he didn’t spare Gyuvin a single look.

You felt a little awkward being caught in the middle of it, racking your brains to figure out what you should say to lighten up the mood. “You should stay for dinner! You too, Gyuvin,” You said, your voice slightly shaking from being nervous. Ricky flashed you a smile, and even in a situation as dire as that, you managed to swoon over him. “I’d love to, but I should get going. Let’s eat lunch together tomorrow, Y/N.” He said. You nodded almost immediately to his suggestion.

Ricky mumbled a ‘bye’ to you, playfully pinching your cheeks before leaving. When you were sure Ricky was far away enough, you let out a squeal. You honestly forgot about Gyuvin being right behind you, and Gyuvin for sure noticed how red your cheeks became. He would be a fool if he didn’t catch onto your feelings for Ricky.

You tried to play it off upon realising you still had a guest in your room, in hopes that he didn’t hear you practically squealing for his literal best friend. “That was crazy. I can’t believe he just popped into my house unannounced,” you laughed dryly, hoping to change the subject. Gyuvin nodded, he didn’t want to make it awkward with you, so he pretended to be oblivious.

“To be fair, the two of you have been going to each other’s houses quite a lot. Almost like you guys are dating.” He teased. You tried not to react to what he had just said, Gyuvin noticed how your cheeks slowly started to flush again. It practically confirmed his suspicions. In fact, he was excited about this newfound information.

He might not be on good terms with Ricky at the moment, but as his friend, Gyuvin silently made a promise to himself that he will make the two of you date each other. He just wished he could tell Ricky of what he just witnessed.

masterlist | previous | next

synopsis ↯ in which you are paired up with ricky shen, who fully convinced himself that you purposely became his partner in order to date him.

𖤐 𖦹 ༘⋆⊹ nara's note:

now i need to think what'll happen in the next chapter bc i can't decide whether i want to go with a bad ending or a good ending

🏷️ ; @jiaant11 @shiningstar-byulxx @justemalove @okkomi @jeonghyeonsgf @blaycke @lvieee @softyminhee @starhyeon @rikislady @raeewe @se0ngmins @i-yeseo @aariiil @daydreamer5006 @ahnneyong @jayujus @girlokarina @aerxz @rikimylove

[orchidyoonkook]

Under The Willow Tree | MYG

Title: Under The Willow Tree   

Pairing: Bad Boy!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (T) | One Shot, Small Town AU, S2F2L, Implied Age Gap, Slow Burn, Angst, Touch of Fluff, Darker Subject Matter, First Kiss, Silce of Life

Summary: The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?

Warnings: PG16, some not necessarily positive non-specific religious discussions, people using religion in a negative may, plot twisty, cursing, kissing, semi-apparent abandonment issues, discussions of dead parents and guardians, mentions of alcoholism in a parent, mentions of illness in a parent, yoongi has tattoos and a motorcycle, motorcycle lessons, longing, mishandled emotions, catharsis.

Word Count: 7401

Release Date: April 10, 2023, 4:05PM

A/N 1: This happened due to a writing prompts post I shared sometime in late march. I’m quite proud of it considering I hadn’t planned anything so the entire story was written as I was writing. Very different than my normal writing process. 

A/N 2: Thank you endlessly to @borahae-k​, @katykatmeow​, @here4btsfics​ and @phthartic-fox​​ for beta’ing this. I love you all for your help, support and kindness. 

It happened under a willow tree. A weeping willow.

Your favourite willow, to be specific. Even though there’s just the one.

It’s by the pond deep in the woods behind your house, where you watch ducks swim through the long, wispy branches that just reach its shore. Where you sit at the base, waiting for the sun to set the sky ablaze with colour as it falls into the horizon for another good night's sleep.

The one under which you had your first kiss.

You’d been waiting. Wanting it to be special, with the right person.

But a brief brush of soft, pink lips with the last person you ever expected had you wanting more, more, more.

It’d been a few months since he started coming to the willow. You’d assumed for the same reason you did.

To get away. From anyone and everything.

There aren’t many places in your hometown that allow for privacy, and you imagined he needed it more than anyone. Somewhere far from the residents' judgmental stares that were always nothing less than smothering.

Hailing from a very small, very rural, religious town where everybody’s known everyone for generations, your community is one where you follow in the footsteps of your parents and grandparents before them.

Where your life is already decided for you at birth, whether you know it or not.

Copy. Paste.

Copy.

Paste.

You’re born there; either at home with a midwife or in the one floor hospital down the main road. Raised there; a hand-me-down wearing, bike riding, creek-playing child.

You go to school there; stuck inside the same four walls from the ages of 4 to 18. Get your driver's licence there; from the sheriff after a road test that a 9 year old could pass.

You graduate there; from the same high school your friends, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents went to. Get a job; in town or on a farm, the only two options there are. 

And marry there; before 25, lest you become a spinster, subject to the gossip vultures also known as your neighbours. Then have some kids before growing old and dying, your permanent resting place dug in the same graveyard as everyone else that came before you.

Copy. 

Paste.

It’s a suffocating fate that petrified you to your core. And you’ve known you didn’t want it for as long as you can remember.

You never liked their rules. Didn’t want to become one of them, to do as they do, live the way they live.

You’d skillfully escaped making any true friends as you grew older, but kept the people you could tolerate close enough to not be bored on weekends. They’re all temporary placeholders in your life anyway, people who sound like robots stuck in the same settings. People who would hold you back.

What’s worst of all is that you don’t share the religion they claim to be so hallowed and wonderful. The one that’s unwittingly forced them all into this life of monotonous repetition.

You dream of more. Of life outside this dreaded purgatory.

Of leaving.

But no one ever leaves. They’re stuck here, in this downwards spiral of life you’re so desperately trying to dig yourself out of. It makes you feel like a fraud, constantly pretending to be one of them. Always wearing a mask just to make it to the next day alive, unharmed by them and their values.

It makes you feel like there’s always a pair of eyes watching, waiting for you to mess up and reveal your blasphemous self.

You’re terrified they’ll discover the truth. Terrified of the ostracisation that will come the second they know you aren’t one of them.

You’ve seen it in real time. What they do to people who don’t conform.

Seen how they treat him.

Two years older. Bleach blond hair and a sleeve full of tattoos. A leather jacket he wears like armour with all black clothes to match. And last, but certainly not least, a motorcycle.

You daydreamed about that bike. Taking it and riding far, far away.

The busybodied people of your town never had a kind word to be said about him. Instead, choosing to call him any and every horrible name under the sun.

Beast, bastard, demon, monster, criminal.

Unable to understand him, understand anyone different.

They herd their children away from him in the streets; parting like the Red Sea when he walks by.

As if he were acid.

As if he was evil itself, and not just a young man.

You’ve never even heard him speak because no one dares to talk to him, worried any contact could turn them, seduce them into whatever his sick ways were.  

And you’re ashamed to admit you’re one of them…sort of.

You aren’t worried about speaking to him, you’re worried about what being seen speaking with him will do to you.

You’re someone whose only salvation from complete and total social isolation relies on fitting in.

And even if it kills you to pretend, you only need to do it for a little while longer.

You just had to make it to college. You’d be the first one in decades to go. Their mindset of ‘you have everything you need here so why bother leaving’  having not once in your life resonated.

You can deal with them and all of their beliefs about what you should do with your life for the short hours of school and occasional shifts at the diner, so long as you can escape to your willow tree, you’ll be okay.

The weeping willow in the middle of the forest behind your house is the only one in the area. You never understood why that is, but it’s your oasis away from everything you hate.

The tips of its branches sway rhythmically in the wind, and moss creeps up its trunk. It’s surrounded by dense, plush grass for you to sit on, and after all the years of sitting in the same spot, a little groove in the shape of your body has formed at its base. 

Its canopy protects you from the outside world, creating a space where you don't have to hide. Where you can proudly be yourself without fear. Where you spend as much of your time as you possibly can to keep your sanity intact.

No one bothers you here.

Your mum died years ago from an illness they never diagnosed, her plot in the town’s graveyard long since filled.

And your dad never notices you gone, too drunk in your house up on the hill to care.

So as long as there’s a constant supply of food on the counter and beer in the fridge, you’re free to do as you please.

Under the willow you do your homework and sketch. You take pictures and eat breakfasts and lunches and dinners. You listen to music and dance under the safety of its shade.

Under the willow you read great adventure novels, and dream you’re the protagonists whisked away on grand adventures. Anywhere but here.

Under the willow is your home away from home. Next to the pond, under the stars.

So it’s to your great surprise when an unexpected guest pries open the curtain of flowing foliage one spring afternoon. A bleached blond, leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding, guest.

You don’t see him at first, too focused on the sketchpad in front of you. He steps in, and watches you work quietly, waiting for you to notice him.

You fascinate him. Every other girl in town can be found at one of three places, yet you were never at any of them. Not at the restaurant sipping on a milkshake. Not at the library studying. And not at the church volunteering. 

You’re always elsewhere. 

And he’s finally figured out where that is. 

He was nervous at first. To follow you. You’d never spoken but that wasn’t anything new to him. No one in this town ever did. 

Not to him.

But you don’t look down at him like the others do. Or jump out of the way when he walks by. You don’t tear away from his gaze as fast as the others. You hold on, even if for just a second longer. 

Unknowingly, you’ve captivated him more than anyone else he’s ever met.

So he followed you to see where you vanish off to, not expecting you to go into the forest behind your house. 

For a half second he considered you dangerous, because what on earth could you be getting up to in a forest for hours? But as he trailed the sounds of your footsteps and saw the small clearing with the tree, it began to make sense.

After jumping ten feet from seeing something tall and dark in your periphery, you exhale a large breath when you realise you aren’t in any danger, and shake out the nerves. 

You’d normally worry he was there to hurt you, but something in you knew he never would. Never could. Maybe it was the look he gave as he regarded you. 

Soft. Wistful even.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, wary. The first words you’ve ever spoken to him.

Barely contained inside the limits of the willows perimeter, he shrugs, and takes a long look around your little sanctuary.

And as he does, you get your first real look at him.

He’s handsome. Stoically so. And for only a moment do you wonder about all the stories hidden behind his eyes.  

The ones now focused on you.

“Wanted to see where you disappear to. You’re never in town.”

So what if you were never in town? Why did he care? Wait—How did he know? Does he pay attention to you?

…Why you?

You didn’t think he cared to notice anyone in this town, let alone you enough to know you don’t follow the social expectations of someone your age.

To pick up on the fact that you’re never there at all.

It makes a million things run through your mind—Why does he care about where you go? What about you is so special? Does he even know your name?—before one resounding thought hits you like a ton of bricks.

Can you trust him?

No one else in this town does, but all of their reasons are superficial bullshit.

All you know is you don’t know the first thing about him, and that now he knows about the one place you feel safe.

“That’s intentional,” you say, cautious. Not giving away anything but not saying much either.

“Can’t blame you,” he responds, before checking out the rooftop of bright green and muttering, “Eyes and ears everywhere.”

Those four words alone are all you need. 

He gets it.

“Yeah.”

Maybe you can trust him.

Observing each other for a silent minute, there seems to be an unspoken understanding forming between the two of you.

And he shoves his hands in his pockets, asking, “Mind company?”

You think about it for only a second.

No. No you didn’t.

“As long as you’re quiet. I’m trying to focus,” pointing the eraser end of your pencil to the sketchpad on your lap. “The cattail leaves are the hardest to get the lines right.”

He nods, finally breaking free of his position at the branch's edge. Nearing the base of the tree, he crouches down, about a quarter of the trunk's diameter away from you. It’s close enough to still see each other, but far enough to not bump into one another.

And before nestling in fully, he extends a tattooed hand to you.

“Yoongi.”

An introduction.

“Y/N,” you return, putting your pencil down in the crease of your pad and shaking.

His hand is calloused, the ones you get from years of working with your hands. And strong, a firm grip. The kind you’d want to pull you up if you were dangling over a cliff. 

So many stories contained in a 3 second touch. Yet you find yourself wanting to know all of them.

Releasing, he settles in.

What surprises you most about the whole encounter isn’t his arrival, or speaking to him for the first time, or even the handshake.

It’s that when he’s comfortable, with one leg up for an elbow to rest upon, he digs a book out from the confines of his jacket.

Jules Verne, The Mysterious Island.

Your favourite.

Spring fades into a wonderful summer of late nights and early mornings. Of beautiful blue skies and vivid sunsets you appreciate a little more now that you have someone to share them with.

Yoongi comes almost, if not, every day to the willow. Always a different book in hand. Always one of the classics.

The Iliad, 1984, Jane Eyre, Moby Dick, Anna Karina, Dracula, Little Women, Frankenstein, Catcher in the Rye, and those are just the ones you can remember because you’ve read them too. Some of them more than once.

You never expected to have anything in common with the boy that sits next to you. But from the little you’ve spoken to one another over the months, you’ve found that you share so much more than just reading habits.

On a warm April afternoon he told you he reads because he loves it but also to escape the daily hell that is your town.

    “Mmm, what’s your favourite?” you’d asked.

    Yoongi was lying down with an arm behind his head, staring into the treetop. Brave New World sat opened and facedown on his chest, his hand resting atop it.

    “Pride and Prejudice.”

    That was the last answer you expected.

    “Why?”

    He lifts his head to look at you.

    “I thought the answer would’ve been obvious.”

After a cold drink on a hot June morning he told you his dreams of moving across the country. As far away as he could get.

    “Just have to save up enough money first.”

    You wondered how he made any. He definitely didn’t work anywhere in town…maybe waiting to inherit?

    Who knew?

    Both on a blanket you’d brought, Yoongi’s lying opposite and beside you, his feet by your hips. He used his balled up jacket as a pillow while you sat in your usual spot, capturing the way the branches swayed in your sketchpad.

    He’d taken to reading to you while you drew, including you in the grand stories he now knew you loved to read too.

    That day he had The Great Gatsby, a story you’d read about 20 times.

    You often dreamed of attending one of his parties. Of seeing the green light across the way, or having a conversation with Nick, why he stayed.

    “Are you anywhere close?” you asked, in reference to his saving goals.           

    “Getting there,” was all he gave.

And on a miserable, rainy night in the middle of August, is when you learned he’s all on his own.

    Sitting beside each other, you both huddled underneath his jacket for what little protection from the rain it could give. Water droplets fell from the tips of his bangs as he spoke.

    “My parents died in a car crash when I was 9, and then my grandma who took care of me, when I was 15.”

    You grieved for him as he told you his story.

    How he had to raise himself.

    Just like you did.

    “I’m sorry,” you’d replied gently. Softly. Knowing how it felt to have no one support you. No one to help you.

    Knowing how it felt to be alone.

    You understood.

    You did, you did, you did.

    Yoongi just stared at the ground, unable to meet your eyes. And you’d wondered if any of the water on his face was salty as he breathed out a quiet and heartbreaking, “Thank you.”  

    It made you question how many kind words he’d heard since his family passed.

    And also incredibly pissed off at the people in your town for how they’d treated him.

    How you’d…treated him.

    A silent promise was made then and there. Never having felt more embarrassed and furious with yourself than in that moment. You’d learned your lesson, and hoped that offering up your own piece of vulnerability might help him feel not so alone.

    Though you watched the rain turn the pond into a canvas of vibration as you did. Words dragged from the deepest parts of your soul, burning the back of your throat as they left.

    “My dad hasn’t been sober a day since my mom died. His eyes are turning yellow,” you said, hugging yourself to stop shaking, convinced yourself it was because of the cold.

    Even though it was August.

    “He doesn’t recognize me most of the time.”

    You closed your eyes, a familiar tang washing over your tongue as you licked the water dripping from your lips.     He gave no response, but an arm found its way over your shoulders and squeezed.

    He understood.

It’s the beginning of September. The air’s started to nip at your cheeks, and the ground crunches a little more everyday with all of the leaves falling underfoot.

The tips of the willows leaves have begun to turn the colour of the morning sun, and by the time mid October rolls around, it’ll look like golden hour every hour of the day.

Yoongi finally tells you about the job he has at a mechanic's in the next town over. He explains how they don’t pay him nearly what they should, but he doesn’t complain because every cent brings him closer to leaving.

Just him and his bike.

You turn sheepish.

“Can I tell you something?”

He sits closer after all this time, more comfortable around one another. Still not enough to touch, not crossing that invisible boundary line, but enough that you don’t have to turn your head much anymore to see his eyes.

Brown and endless.

“Yeah, sure.”

You take a deep breath.

“I kind of always dreamed of taking your bike to get away from here and never come back.” He gives you a look and you shrug. “Seemed the easiest route to take.”

A smile that starts as a smirk turns into a healthy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You demand. He has to calm himself down a bit before answering.

“You just uhm…don’t seem the criminal type to me, Cattails.”

There’s a flutter of something in your chest at the stupid nickname. For the drawing you did the day you met.

He continues, unaware of the goings on inside you. “Stealing? You? Nah. Not a chance.”

You open your mouth in mock outrage, scrunching your brow and bringing a hand to your chest.

“I’ll have you know I’d make an excellent criminal,” you lie to his face. He knows it too. 

But giving in, you detail the plan you’d always kept in your head for emergencies, heat slowly rising in your cheeks with every word.

“I’d take the key from you when you weren’t looking, duplicate it at the hardware store, and slip it back into your pocket before you ever noticed it was gone. Then go to your place in the middle of the night and be halfway across the country before morning.”

“Oh yeah?” he says with a raised brow you don’t trust.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a little too much faux confidence.

“And where do I keep my key, Y/N? Hmm?”

“Your jacket pocket,” you’d deduced long ago.

“Mmm,” he tsks with a shake of his head. “Nope.”

Oh. Well then it must be,

“Your pants pocket?”  

“Nuh uh, try again.”

Damnit!

You’d never thought much about it. How many places can someone keep a key on them without a bag and it not be in their pockets?

“Ummm, in your wallet?” Far-fetched but worth a shot.

“Ooo,” he blows through pursed lips before smirking at you again, but this one was different. It caused something very deep inside of you to turn to lava. “Good guess, but also no.”

Closing his book and setting it down, Yoongi straightens and reaches inside the collar of his shirt, retrieving a necklace you didn’t know he wore.

It’s small, the key, and almost silver. The colouring is tarnished from years of use, with worn teeth and some lettering at its base.

He holds it against a palm to show you.

“Why there?” You ask, wondering if there’s a reason aside from convenience.

With a sad tug of his lips, he answers. “Bike was my dads. I like to keep him close.”

A tender smile meets your own plush as you stare at the little key, appreciating it more after learning the importance it has to him.

And Yoongi watches you, viewing his ticket to freedom with the biggest eyes he’s ever seen, full of that same compassion and understanding you’ve always given him.

An understanding he didn’t think he’d ever see again from this place.

One he doesn’t know if he deserves.

Before you can respond, he’s taking the chain off and sliding it over your head, hand lingering for a second longer than necessary at your nape.

“Yoongi,” you hesitate.

It’s the first time you’ve said his name out loud.

You like the way it feels on your tongue. Warm, sweet. Like honey.

What you don���t know is he loves the way it sounds coming from you.

You falter. “W-what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“But it’s your key! Don’t you need it?”

“Nah, got a spare in the storage compartment of the bike,” he says, gesturing to the one you now hold in your palms. “This way you won’t have to go through the hassle of stealing it.”

“But I—”

“Keep it,” he cuts you off. “In case you need it more than I do.”

It never leaves your neck.

“You want me to what?” You ask as you walk towards the forest edge, Yoongi trailing on your left.

“Take her out for a spin. See if you even can. You’re the one who has all these grand plans but doesn’t even know how to turn it on,” he explains, referring to his motorcycle.

“Those were just daydreamed plans! I never thought I’d actually use them! What if I crash?”

He was kidding right? He must be.

For all the time you two have spent together, you’ve never spoken or been around one another in public. An unspoken agreement.

What happens under the willow tree, stays under the willow tree.

So to be out in the open? On his bike? You don’t know if you can. Or if you should.

But then you remember a promise you made not long ago.

“You won’t crash,” he says, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“How do you know? Like you said, I don’t even know how to turn it on,” you hmph.

“Because I’ll be there.”

And maybe it’s the tone of voice he uses, or the fact that you trust him, you find yourself saying,

“Okay, fine.”

Minutes later you’re swinging a leg over the bike, and sinking on to the surprisingly comfortable seat.

“Where do I put the key?” You ask, taking it from your neck and handing it over.

Yoongi puts it in the side of the motorcycle, somewhere close to your knee.

“Here,” he shows as he turns it to the ‘ON’ position.

“Oh.”

What a weird place for an ignition. 

“Mhm,” he acknowledges, then points. “Put your hand on the brake, it’s the part that sticks out on the right hand side. Hold it firmly against the handlebar. Don’t roll the handle bar itself back though, okay? That’s the throttle.”

Doing what he says, you hold the brake tight against the handle bar, murmuring an ‘okay’ under your breath.

“Now hit that button there on the right to let the fuel pump start up,” referring to the button beside the brake near your thumb. You do so.

He checks a little gauge on the side near the ignition. Seemingly pleased, he continues. “And now hit the button on the left to start it.”

Following his words once again, the engine roars to life the second the button is pressed, purring powerfully.

You feel exhilarated and a little terrified. But he’s here. You know you’re safe.

Voice a little louder to combat the noise from the motor, he says, “Okay, now on the left handle bar, grab the clutch. I’ll show you how to move into first gear, and look at me,” your eyes meet his, “do not let go of the clutch.”

You nod, but for extra precaution, he clamps his hand over the one you have holding it. You watch as he bends to put your left foot on a pedal and presses it down till you hear a pop, pushing up the kickstand when he rises.

The bike is heavy, now that you’re the only thing keeping it up right, you can feel its weight. And you understand why they’re designed to be able to have your feet on the ground even when sitting. You’d probably fall over otherwise.

“If you’re uncomfortable you let me know, yeah? And if you get scared just do what you’re doing now with this hand,” he squeezes for emphasis, “it’ll take all the power away from the engine and you’ll just coast until you stop, okay?”

“Okay!” You say, more excited by the minute. Your toes and fingertips are starting to tingle.

“I‘m gonna let go and you’re going to very, very slowly let up on the clutch—not all the way. Just enough that you move at about a pedal bike's pace. Let me jog down the road about 50 feet or so, and then you meet me there. Hold tight to the clutch again when you’re about 20 feet from me and I’ll catch you. Sound good?”

Nodding one more time in confirmation, nerves crawl all over your skin. You can’t describe the new feeling fully, but the closest you can find to it is probably the beginnings of an adrenaline rush.

You watch as Yoongi jogs down the road, throws his hands up over his head, and gives you two big thumbs up.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly release some pressure off the clutch and begin to move forwards. You know your feet are supposed to go on the metal foot rests below you, but you're so focused on not falling or crashing that you just stick them out so they don’t touch the ground.

Halting your left hands release at the speed he said to, you cruise along, wind picking up with your increased pace.

Holy shit!

You’re riding a motorcycle! 

You never thought you could, it was just a dream for so long. Something you kept in the back of your mind just for fun, but now you’re actually doing it! Your driving down the road on an actual real life motorcycle!? All by yourself!?

Turns out all you needed was a little encouragement and someone you trust to spot you.

Aiming for Yoongi, you clamp down on the clutch once again, cutting power to the engine. You drift right into his awaiting hands braced for the impact, and he slides a little on the gravel road before getting you to a full stop.

He presses one of the buttons you did earlier and the bike shuts down, allowing you to jump off.

You’re positively giddy.

“Oh my god did you see me?! I just did that! I just drove a motorcycle! Can you believe it?! I can’t believe I just did that!” You don’t even register what you're saying, too full of excitement to care.

Yoongi can’t contain his grin as he gets the bike standing on its own. Your joy is too infectious not to take part in, and he walks over for a high five to celebrate. 

But to his surprise, you bypass his hand completely and embrace him, throwing your arms around his neck.

It takes only a second before he’s enveloping you with his own, not letting the chance to hold you go by.

“Thank you!” You say, before letting go, not even realising what you did. You’re too busy catching your breath from all the rambling and jumping around, still filled with the remnants of your elation.  

Meanwhile, Yoongi can’t get the feeling of your body against him out of his head. How soft you were. How warm. The way you smelled like a mixture of your natural scent and outside.

And he’s asking, “You wanna to go for a ride?” before he can tell himself not too.

The question makes you pause. Was he serious? Because you can’t think of anything you want more.

Staring at him, your answer is far too gentle for someone who was just screeching with joy. 

“Really?”

He nods, still untrusting of his mouth, confirming with a ‘mhm.’

You don’t hesitate. You want to feel like that again.  

Not a minute later he’s giving you the helmet and securing it tightly. He also makes you wear his leather jacket to protect your torso, leaving him in just an oversized black t-shirt and dark ripped jeans.

Swinging a leg over, he pats the seat behind him.

And you’re glad to have the helmet on because without it he would most definitely see your inability to meet his eye. You can barely focus on anything aside from the sight in front of you and being wrapped in the scent of him. But then he gives a tattooed hand to help you hop on, and says,

“You have to put your arms around me and hold on. Otherwise you might fly off the back when we accelerate,” holding his hands behind him to guide yours. 

What? You didn’t think this far. He—you have t—Ummm, well... 

“Okay,” you answer, voice small, letting your hands be guided. 

Despite the loss of his jacket, he’s still deliciously warm, and the heat in your cheeks increases tenfold with your hands now splayed over his abdomen. 

Lightly defined muscles meet your fingertips through the thin material of his shirt and you do your best to memorize them as he turns on the bike and pulls away from the curb.

He starts slower than normal to make sure you’re alright, but when you give him the thumbs up, he speeds up to just over the limit and you hold tight.

You’ve never felt so free, loving the rush of wind that flows over your body from going so fast. It’s pushing a welcomed cold through the fabric of your clothes as your body temperature has only increased since getting on.

You could go anywhere, do anything. Nothing and nobody could stop you.

You want that. You want it so bad. And he gave you the key to be able to. 

Literally.

But now when you think about leaving, you think about leaving with him. Yoongi driving and you sitting right here on the back, nothing but each other, the road, and hope for the future.

Growing confident enough to release your grasp after a few minutes, you raise your hands in the air, and let the wind catch your fingertips.  A whoop of joy leaves you at this newfound feeling he’s given you. 

Then another, and another, before returning them to their place around him.

Yoongi can’t help but smile the biggest he has in years when hearing your squeals of glee.

Because for the first time in a long time, he feels it too.

Yoongi doesn’t come to the willow for almost a week.

He’s never done that since he started coming. Not once.

And you’re worried.

Where is he? Is he okay? You have no idea.

It’s not like you can go looking for him.

And you two aren’t anything anyway, so you shouldn’t even be this worried in the first place. If he’s safe, or in the bottom of a ditch somewhere.

But you can’t help it.

Just like you can’t help the feelings that have blossomed for him over the months. The feelings you didn’t want to admit to yourself for fear of him not returning them.

Yet there they were, and there isn’t anything you can do about them now.

They make you wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

Six days.

It takes him six days to return. Stomping in, and visibly pissed off.

“What’s wrong?” You ask once he’s close enough to hear.

“I’m leaving,” he says flatly, uncaring. Like you asked him what colour the sky was.  

And your stupid, silly little unrequited heart shatters.

“What?”

“I’m leaving. Taking off. Getting out of here. I can’t do it anymore.”

Piece by piece it falls from your chest and into the depths of your stomach.

“B-but why? What happened?”

“I got fired.”

“Fired?”

“Yeah, fired. I tried all week to fix this one stupid mistake I made,” he explains, smoothing over his creased brow with two fingers. “But it cost more to fix than to keep me around, so they fired me. I don’t have the amount of cash I planned for, but I have enough to make it work. And I can pick up odd jobs on the road if I need to.” He nears, extending a tattooed hand. “I just came to get my key and say goodbye.”

Your hand reaches for it, clutching it tightly. You don’t want to give it back.

Who the hell is this? Because you barely recognize him. It certainly isn’t the Yoongi you’ve come to know.

The wonderfully kind, classics reading, dream-sharing, motorcycle instructing, freedom key giving man.

The one who told you about his grandmother, and his parents. Who read you stories while you drew and ate meals together. Who taught you how to ride his motorcycle.

The Yoongi you fell for.

Your Yoongi.

The person currently standing in front of you isn’t him at all.

He’s the hard, cold exterior, crafted over years of verbal and societal abuse. The one everyone avoids at all costs when walking through town. The person he had to become in order to survive.

You don’t know this person.

And you hate it.

You hate it so much it decides to exit your body in the form of tears. Ones of sadness, frustration, and heartbreak.

He’s—he’s leaving. 

Actually leaving.

This place, it’s people.

You...

The few remaining pieces of your heart plunge to the floor, crumbling to dust as they hit. Nothing but a hollow, empty cavern remaining where it once sat.

“But I–you…,” the lump in your throat only getting bigger when you try to speak. You face away from him.

Don’t let him see you cry.

He’s clearly never felt anything close to what you do for him, so suck it up. Reign it in. You do it everyday. So why can’t you do it now?

You don’t get to feel this way!

Shove it back down, get it down!. Crush it all until it’s nothing.

Make it go away. Far, far away. 

Yoongi’s face is falling while you’re taking deep breaths to calm down.

In all of his rage and despair at his terrible week, he’s forgotten who he was speaking to.

His kind hearted, music-sharing, been through hell and back, kickass girl. The one he can call his only true friend.

He’s such an asshole. He hadn’t seen you for almost a week, which killed him in of itself. And then the second he does, all he‘s able to do is spew the frustration and misery he’s been feeling the entire time you were apart.

Nah, he’s worse than an asshole.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—”

But he freezes at the sound of a small, wet inhale.

You’re crying.

He made you cry.

And a regret bigger than the ocean drowns him.

“Hey, wait, please,” he says, rushing over, but you hold out a hand to stop him. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He reaches for you again, and again you stop him. You can’t let him comfort you.

Not when he doesn’t realise he’s become the only person in this whole godforsaken, judgemental hellhole of a neighbourhood wasteland you have.

Your grandparents are dead, along with your mum. Your dad’s an abusive drunk, too far gone to remember he has a daughter. You don’t have any aunts or uncles or cousins to rely on, nor do you have any real friends.

You have no one, aside from Yoongi.

And now you won’t even have him.

So you can’t let him comfort you. Can’t let him see you break.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

Because you don’t know if you’ll be able to put yourself back together without him if you do.

But a quiet, “Y/N, please,” imbued with pain you haven’t heard since a rainy August night leaves his lips. A last ditch effort to get you to look at him, to let him help. 

And it breaks you completely, bursting into a million tiny pieces to match your heart on the floor.

An unrestrained sob falls from your mouth, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. Yours go to his neck as he drags you onto his lap, gripping tight. 

He holds you through every whimper and hiccup and stuttered inhale and shudder. Through every muttered ‘please don’t go’ and ‘please don’t leave me,’ that escapes, stroking a hand along the back of your head and down your spine, soothing.

He whispers, “it’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay,” on repeat with the motion. Over and over and over until only occasional sniffles and deep breaths remain.

You hug him tighter as you start to shiver, the warmth created from your breakdown beginning to wear off. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to slide off his jacket and throw it over your shoulders. An instant cocoon of warm and comfort.

When his hands find their place back around your waist, he dares to speak.

“I got you.”

“I know.” And you do. Your voice is a little wobbly, as you’re unmoving from the embrace, but you most definitely do. 

This is your Yoongi. The one you’ve come to know. To trust. 

Of course he’s got you. 

You use one of your long sleeves to dry your eyes and under your nose. With the nearing autumn weather, you’ve returned to occasionally wearing them.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe into his neck after a long beat of silence.

“What could you possibly be sorry for, Cattails?”

The return of your nickname has a grin threatening to emerge.

“For freaking out. I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“Don’t be,” he says firmly. “I sprung that on you in such a shit way because I was in an even shittier mood. And you clearly weren’t prepared to hear it. I should’ve known better, so don’t you dare be sorry about anything,” he loosens his hold to pull back and look at you. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

You look down, hiding, not wanting him to see you like this.  

“None of that,” he whispers, and brings a finger to your chin, tilting up.

It doesn’t meet much resistance.

Your eyes are still a bit swollen and patchy, but it’s the concern in his that makes you crack the smallest of smiles, if only to see his worry erased.

He already has enough on his plate. No need to add to it.

Not able to offer much more than a quirk of the lip, you’re relieved that it’s enough when he starts to wear one of his own.

It’s then you realise your position. Like the sight of it cleared your brain fog.         

You’re kneeling over his lap, sitting on his thighs, face inches from his. One of his hands is holding your chin up while the other rests low on your waist, your own still loose around him.

So close, yet so far away.

Because he’s leaving.

And that thought alone allows you to throw caution to the goddamn window. It’s not going to matter once he’s gone, and you’ve wanted it to be with someone special.

He’s as special as they come.

Leaning forward, you close your eyes and the gap between the two of you.  

Eyelids fluttering as your lips brush his. Soft, and gentle.

Like him.

You hold only long enough to make sure it counts before pulling back.

It’s funny, really.

It was just a few seconds, but you already find yourself wanting so much more with him. An unfamiliar but welcomed electric pulse finds itself running through your blood at the thought, and it makes you want his lips everywhere. 

Your mouth, your jaw, your neck.

Anywhere he can reach.  

Sparks pool inside you. Sparks and butterflies and fast flowing lava.

You let yourself relish in the glorious feeling for a single moment, before the reality of what you just did sinks in.

And then you’re scared.

Terrified, actually.

To open your eyes, see his face. His reaction.

What if he hated it? What if he’s never felt anything but platonic affection towards you and now you’ve gone and done this?

Sure, he’s leaving. But now that you think about it, does him leaving mean you’ll never see him again?

What if you just ruined everything?

Teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip, you take a peek.

For the second time today you feel your heart breaking, this time at the look on his face.

Is it shock? Or worse.  

Disgust?

Doesn’t matter.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. Not knowing what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, trying to get out of his hold, but he keeps you there. Unyielding. And you start rambling. “I shouldn’t have done that. You clearly don’t—It’s just that you’re leaving and I—“

Lips on yours shut you up.

It’s fervent and needy and passionate as he pulls you closer by the hips, desperately trying to get you as close to him as physically possible. Your nails drag over his scalp as your fingers snake through his blond locks. They elicit a delicious groan from his mouth that you consume with your own.

It’s the most intoxicating sound you’ve ever heard, and you want more of it. So you do it again, and again, and again.

He moves down your jaw and neck, sucking at the tender flesh near your pulse point, and your mouth drops open at the feeling.

You’ve always wondered, but…you didn’t know it could feel like this.

Every touch, every whisper, every press of his lips to yours feels amazing. He’s pulling pleasure out of places you wouldn’t have thought possible before him. And you never want to go back to not knowing.

The sweetest of whimpers leaves your mouth as he gently bites a soft spot, then soothing the glorious pain he created with the kindness of his tongue.  

Yoongi swears to any god who will listen that he’ll do whatever they want so long as he gets to hear that sound repeatedly and for the rest of his life.

He returns to your lips and says, “come with me.”

You’re so focused on feeling that it takes a moment for his words to land. “What?”

“Leave with me. Let’s get the fuck outta here, and never look back, the both of us. Together.”

Yoongi looks so serious but..

He—he can’t be serious can he? 15 minutes ago he was going on and on about leaving and needing his key back and saying goodbye.

And now?

Sensing your hesitance, he punctuates each of the next three words with a kiss. 

“Come. With. Me.”

It makes your answer arrive without really thinking. You don’t need to think. Not when you know deep in your newly reconstructed heart that it’ll always be the same whether you think about it or not.

So long as you’re with him, you know you’ll be,

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He questions like he can’t believe it. Can’t believe you'd agree.

You make sure there isn’t a single doubt in his head as you look him dead in the eyes and confirm.

“Yes, Yoongi,” another kiss. “I’ll go with you.”

He pulls you into him for what feels like a million more under your shared willow tree.

Your salvation.

And you know they’re going to be the firsts of many, many more to come.  

Three days later, and two bags packed full of all your earthly possessions, you’re on the back of Yoongi’s motorcycle.

In those three days he’s prepared everything else you’ll need. He’s gotten a cute leather jacket and helmet for you, some reading materials for the road, snacks, drinks. A place by his side for the foreseeable future.

In the same span of time, you’ve given him a home in your heart, someone he can rely on other than himself. Talk to, trust, experience life with.

Something he hasn’t had in nearly ten years. 

Something he never wants to lose again.

He swings a leg over and you unclip the chain from your neck, handing him the key to the bike, to your now shared future.

Driving out of town—straight down Main Street—you watch as all the people you grew up with, who you almost destroyed yourself to fit in with, gawk.

Watch as they judge you for being with him, your best friend. For leaving, and not doing what they all expected of you.

For not being like one of them.

Because you’re not one of them. 

You never have been.

And just like the dust that flies behind the wheels, you feel weightless, not giving a single fuck what they think for the first time in your life.

You don’t have to anymore.

You’re free.

A/N 3: Thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

[beybaldes]

and wouldn't you love to love her?

Warren Rojas x Fem!Reader

djats masterlist

Word Count : 2.1k

Summary : basically my fic they long to be (close to you) with a warren!ending. OR the one where Warren reveals he can't sleep without you anymore.

Warning!! I have not read the book or the show!!! All info I have gathered has been from other x readers I have read. sorry in advance if I have butchered your fav show/book because I have plainly made shit up in favour of satiating my own need for more warren fics xoxo

Moving to LA had been much more isolating then you'd ever thought it'd be. Sure, you'd moved with there with some of your closest friends, but it still felt harrowingly lonely compared to what you were used to in Pittsburgh. In your small hometown, everyone knew everyone, so wherever you went, you saw someone you knew - here, in LA, you felt lucky to accidentally make eye contact with a stranger on the street.

Warren was the number one person happy to fill the needed affection you often sought out since moving to LA. He, himself, was quite the lover - always one to take a cuddle and hold onto a hug for way longer then most would deem appropriate - which was exactly what you needed. The two of you had spent many nights in bed together in LA just for the company of it, and not that you didn't like it, you just wished it was with someone else, instead.

"You coming to bed, sweet girl?" Warren asked with a tired drawl to his words, extending a hand out to you while the other held the remainder of his joint to his lips.

"In a little." You hummed back, taking a hit out the joint he offered out to you, the joint being held to your lips by Warren instead of taking it into your own hands. "I'm not tired enough to sleep."

Warren pulled the joint back to his lips, his other hand coming to brush your hair out of your eyes and behind your ear, his hand resting against your hair and keeping you tucked in the crook of his neck. "You want me to wait up with you? Or you can come keep my company? I'll put on some Fleetwood Mac, it'll help you sleep, baby girl."

That was another thing that you missed about Pittsburgh; the constant nicknames you let the others call you. Back in Pittsburgh, everyone had some kind of name to call you except the one you were born with. Now? Karen called you sweet-pea, Eddie called you birdie, Camilla called you sunshine as did Graham and even Billy, but Warren? Warren called you whatever he liked; sweet girl, baby girl, baby, doll, his.

"No, it's okay Warren, you go to bed." Warren scooped you up in his arms, placing you down in the spot next to Graham who had already opened up his blanket for you, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. "I'll leave the door open for you."

You let your head fall to Graham's shoulder, who pulled his arm out from between the two of you and wrapped it over the back of the sofa. He allowed you to tangle your legs up in his pyjama covered ones, making sure you were comfortable before he turned his attention back to the tv screen.

"You and Warren are sleeping together?" Karen had been the one brave enough to ask, the conversation between the two of you not unnoticed by the rest of the group - it being the only thing to break the silence in the past 40 minutes. 

All heads turned to you, attention suddenly on something that had the potential to be more interesting then the rerun of Scooby-doo that had just started. "Not like that." You answered softly, eyes still focused on the cartoon dog and his gang on friends, not noticing how everyone else was now looking at you. "We both just like the company of it. I don't think either of us realised how lonely it would be coming out to LA."

"Cute." Camilla mused, a warm smile curling on her lips as she took in that even in your sleep you were reaching out for the touch and warmth of someone else.

"You're always welcome in my bed, sweet-pea." Karen added, a smile curling on her own lips as she managed to take your attention away from the tv. "I swear you run cold. Would be nice in the LA heat."

"You can't steal my blanket buddy." Graham gasped, pulling you tighter against him and furiously tucking the blanket around the two of you. "She's the perfect amount of cold. The windows open, with the blanket, with y/n is the perfect temperature for me."

"I'm going to have to pass on that one Karen, unless you want to come down to my room." You countered her offer with a soft smile, attention moving back to the tv once more. "Warren says your room is haunted."

Laughter spread through out the room as you sided with Warren even in his absence; he was so sweet to you, and that's what friends do, so how could you not?

"What?" You asked, laughing yourself. "We left it empty until your arrival for a reason." That caused another round of laughter to break out in the room, everyone enjoying the way the two of you were slowly but surely morphing into one person with the more time you spent confined in the LA rental.

A particularly loud shout of "scoob!" from the TV had everyone's attention turned back to the cartoon, letting the nature of your relationship with Warren lie for at least the time being.

By the end of the third episode, only you, Graham and Eddie remained in the room. Graham was fast asleep, his head leaning against yours making you trapped in his hold, and Eddie was sat in the armchair against the wall, legs curled into the seat and a bottle of warm beer in his hands that he'd been nursing for the last half an hour.

As the intro to the next rerun of Scooby-doo blasted from the TV, Graham startled awake, literally jumping out of his seat and pulling the blanket with him. He grumbled some attempt at what you thought was a goodnight, and stumbled sleepily out of the room, the warmth of him and the blanket leaving you alone on the couch.

Eddie got up from his seat without a word, joining you on the couch with his arm stretched over your shoulders and across the back of the couch cushions.

"I know you like him." Eddie teased, letting his arm fall around you and pull you into his side. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and placed it over the two of you, trying to keep you warm now that Graham had stolen your provisos blanket. "I can tell, I think we all can."

"Everyone except Warren, I guess." You complained, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, taking the warm beer he held in his hands and having a sip of it.

"He likes you too you know." Eddie laughed at the face of disbelief you pulled, taking the beer back from you to have another sip for himself. "All I'm saying is, you don't see me in his bed every night, and he likes me just fine."

You hummed into him, tucking your head away from the light of the tv screen, thinking about what Eddie was suggesting. His fingers moved to run through your hair, soothing you to sleep even if he hadn't meant to.

It wouldn't be the first time you had ended up in this predicament, you and Eddie cuddled up together on a couch in someone's living room, the night having gotten away from you. But it was the first time since coming to LA, the first time since you'd basically moved into Warren's bed, and if it weren't for the fact you were already half asleep, you would've felt sick about it.

Eddie wasn't far behind you when it came to falling asleep, his fingers shortly stilling and beer left half drank and held loosely between his fingers.

As people slowly began to filter into the living room the following morning, you made yourself plenty comfortable in Eddie's lap - instead of taking up the whole couch - allowing him to wrap an arm around your waist and hold you up and against him by your thighs. You lazily tuned into the conversation everyone else seemed to be having, mainly focused on eating the bowl of cereal Camilla had given you and the feeling of Eddie's fingers toying with the hem of your shorts. Picking up another spoonful of food, you offered him a mouthful, him taking it with a grateful smile.

"I thought you and Warren were sleeping together?" Billy asked, gesturing at you and Eddie with the tip of his spoon accusingly.

"And I thought we discussed this last night." You deflected with a shrug. Everyone apparently knew of your feelings for the curly haired brunette according to Eddie, but that didn't mean you had to admit them to them. It would only give them more ammunition to tease you with anyways. "Me and Ed's stayed out here last night, tried to stay up watching scooby-doo but failed, that's all."

"You and Ed's, huh." Graham asked, his eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"You're just jealous that she doesn't have a cute nickname for you." Eddie spat back, quickly coming to your defence as you offered him another bite of your cereal.

Scanning your eyes around the room, you took notice of the lack of a certain member of the sixes presence. "Where is Warren, actually?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Graham teased, earning a smack on the chest from Eddie who came to your defence as you left the room, leaving him with your cereal and an unusually rowdy Graham.

You crept into Warren's room, quiet as a mouse, hoping not to wake him up as you made your own way to bed. Despite your claim last night, you headed over first to the record player in the corner, pulling out your Fleetwood Mac vinyl and skipping to where Rhiannon should start. Turing the volume down enough that it wouldn't go outside the room but would reach you from Warren's bed. Cracking open the window just enough to let in a cool breeze, you finally got into what had become your side of Warren's bed.

No sooner then you'd lied down and turned on your side to slowly wake him, Warren was cosying himself into your side, nuzzling into your shoulder and wrapping his arm around you, intertwining your fingers.

"I didn't mean to wake you, m'sorry." You murmured, wiggling your arm out of his hold to wrap it over him, tangling your fingers in his mess of curls. You scratched gently at his scalp, Warren preening into your touch, yearning for it. "Well I did actually, but not like this, it's nearly 9."

"You didn't wake me, sweet girl." He purred, pressing a kiss, then another, then another to your shoulder. "Can't sleep without you, just been sat here all night trying to."

"Warren." You whined, shuffling to face him better at his confession. "You should've said so. I would've come with you when you first asked. You could've come to get me."

"I didn't want you to think I was needy." He whispered, avoiding your eyes as he busied himself in trying to get comfy now that you were in his arms again. "Plus, when I did come out to get you, you seemed pretty cosy with Eddie."

"We just fell asleep watching tv, that's all." You promised, feeling as a smile creeped onto Warren's face at your admission. "Nothing else. If I didn't have the blanket I would've come here, to you. I promise."

"You're here now, baby girl. That's all that matters to me." Warren was already dropping asleep, his need for it catching up quickly now that your presence was beside him, now that he was safe in your arms. "All that matters."

At your lack of response, Warren began to move, exhibiting the most life you'd seen in him since you'd walked into the room minutes ago. "C'mere hot stuff." Warren opened his arms to you, letting you shuffle down until your head rested against his chest and your arms were wrapped under his, going up his back and holding onto his shoulders from behind.

You gently scratched your fingers up and down his back, lulling him to sleep just as he was lulling you sleep with the soothing circles he was rubbing into your hip. You were quick to fall asleep again in his hold, as you did every night in Warren's bed, as did Warren, who, like he'd just admitted, couldn't sleep without you in his arms.

[malleux]

performance anxiety.

-> lyney x fem!famous singer!reader

-> warnings: mentions of past bad relationship, anxiety, no use of y/n

-> words: 3.4k

[a/n]: this was not supposed to be this long but. not proofread, idk what universe this is in where all of these characters are friends but shut up. i just started writing, gun to my head i could not tell you what happens in this story

Applause. Roses. Adoration. Entertainment. 

You craved the effervescence of the spotlight. The thrill of being on stage. Millions of eyes are on you and you alone– coming together for the sole purpose of viewing you. 

It seemed a bit voyeuristic, but you couldn’t care less as the final notes of your song rang out across stages all over the country and applause replaced the roaring in your ears. People stood as they clapped, whooping and hollering. All for you. 

You stood before them night after night, baring the roughest edges of yourself on the stage for them all to judge. You were vulnerable to every attack possible– verbal, physical, emotional. Yet none occurred, save for the dozens of flowers that showered you every night as you completed a performance flawlessly once again. 

It was only after you made it backstage to your dressing room that you finally took a breath. A very shaky, very exhausted breath. Stagehands ran back and forth, putting up props and fixing light fixtures for someone else’s performance the next night, but they reassured you that nobody could possibly outshine you after you had christened the Opera Epiclese. 

Your first performance in Fontaine. In your hometown. 

“That was amazing!” Your manager burst through the door, a cup of water in her hands. She passes it to you. “One of your best performances yet– not that the others were bad! Quite the opposite, actually–”

“I get it. Thank you.” You chewed on your lip, gazing at yourself in the mirror. You looked frazzled up close with the stage makeup slightly smeared across your face. Not enough for the audience to notice, though. No, to them, you were perfection. “I hope they thought the same.”

“Are you kidding? You were amazing. I bet you made at least ten men think about leaving their wives for you tonight.” You cut your eyes at her, and she backtracked immediately. “I-I mean! Oh, that was such a bad analogy, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” 

It really wasn’t fine, but you weren’t going to make your friend-turned-manager feel any worse than she already does for bringing up the past. You weren’t married– Archons, no– but you lived a fast life that not many were equipped to handle, especially if they were staying home while you traveled Teyvat on a tour. 

Your ex couldn’t handle you and your lifestyle, so he handled others in bed instead. 

It didn’t sting as bad as you would have expected it to. You couldn’t take the time to grieve, not when there was a performance in Natlan the night you found out. Other performers and those who lived a more nomadic lifestyle had warned you about failed relationships and friendships with those who did not stay close or did not understand the busyness of traveling. You truly believed you were the exception, and now you realize that such relationships are impossible. You chose this life, thus giving up the idea of a simple love. Your friends were your manager and the crew that traveled with you, and that was that. You didn’t stay anywhere long enough to culminate true, meaningful connections with anyone. 

“Are you ready for the encore?” 

You swiped another layer of lipstick on and fluffed your hair in the mirror before turning back to your manager. 

“Born ready.” 

—---

Lyney sat on the edge of his seat for the past hour and a half and continues to do so, staring at the dark stage. 

His sister keeps a hand near his chair, just in case he somehow leans too far forward and falls out of it completely. She’ll never understand his infatuation with such a famous singer– it’s not like he had a shot with you anyway. Nevertheless, she made sure to surprise him with front-row tickets the minute she learned of your performance at Fontaine’s beloved Opera Epiclese. 

Lyney nearly cried in happiness and he’s nearly crying now, praying to every Archon above that you’re going to come out for an encore and that this isn’t the end of your show. The tears almost fall as the spotlight graces the stage once more and music fills the room. 

Everyone in Fontaine tried to get tickets for your performance and the most influential of citizens were sure to attend. Furina sat in the VIP box, leaning on her hand as she watched you step back onstage. She was quiet for once, enraptured by your voice. Clorinde was at her side. Neuvillette sat near the twins, seated but smiling. Charlotte and Navia were a bit further back, Charlotte furiously scribbling on her notepad to review the performance. She stopped writing halfway through, though, unable to stop herself from just enjoying the performance. Wriothesley and Sigewinne showed their faces from outside of the Fortress, the former succumbing to the latter’s pleas for tickets. Even Freminet was there, on the other side of Lyney, just happy to see his brother so happy. 

And yet there he was, sitting in the middle of the row, front and center. A perfect view. And there you were, in that jaw-dropping dress that sparkled perfectly in the lights, reflecting the same way the stars in the sky shined. Lyney was positive there were also stars in his eyes, but he couldn’t help it. 

And when the performance was over, Lyney finally sat back in his seat and exhaled a deep breath– one he had been holding since the minute you appeared onstage. 

Lynette looked him over as if to make sure he was okay and happy. She didn’t need any words to tell that he was over the moon. “Are you ready to go?”

“Just– just give me one minute.”

—---

“How long will you be in Fontaine?”

“Probably a week or two, at most.” You hummed, finally eating a snack left for you by the Hydro Archon herself. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. I’d like to stay a bit longer.” 

“Hmm,” Furina’s finger tapped her chin– a clear sign that she was thinking. About what, nobody could tell. “How about another performance before you leave? Many people didn’t get tickets to this first show. You’ve had so many supporters from here since you started. Why not give them a special thanks? Especially me, since I’ve supported you and been your friend for all these years?” 

You squinted at her for a moment, trying to decipher what she could be devising in her head. You weren’t a mind reader, and Furina didn’t necessarily all have it going on in her head, so you opted to just ask her outright. “What could you possibly gain from that?” 

She reeled back, feigning offense. “Nothing! It’s-it’s just that it’s great for business. And we’re having special visitors soon who may want to see. Totally not because I want to watch it again– heh.”

“What special visitors?”

“Why, the Traveler and Paimon, of course!” Furina clapped, “Yes, yes. They’d love to see your performance.”

“Hm.” You continued staring at her, unconvinced that the legendary Traveler wanted to see your performance. But, you did get to perform again and get a part of the profits. You didn’t see why not. “Fine.” 

The squeal that came out of Furina’s mouth was enough to almost break your glass of water– a feat many singers trained to do for years and could not accomplish. Yet, your friend was close to doing it without even trying out of sheer excitement. 

She grabbed your hand once you were done changing clothes and dragged you out of the dressing room. You had no choice but to follow as she led you into the main room, where the audience sat. It looked much different from before with the lights on and the chairs empty. 

Except for two chairs, three people still present in the opera house. 

At the sound of her voice, the three turned around. There was a pair of twins and a younger blonde boy. The twin boy made eye contact with you and seemed to shoot straight up, becoming entranced as he saw you. This was typically a normal reaction for fans, but there was one difference this time. 

You were entranced too. 

Furina looked at the three and huffed. “Isn’t it time for you to go home?”

“Sorry, Lady Furina,” The youngest boy spoke and motioned to the other boy, whose face was bright red. “Lyney just needed to sit for a minute.”

“Is he okay?” You tilted your head, gently shaking free of Furina and walking to them. Furina gasped and crossed her arms, almost angry that she didn’t have your attention anymore as your self-titled “best friend”. “Your face is hot.” 

The twin girl hid her mouth with her hand. “He’ll be okay eventually. I think he got overheated or something. Got all nauseous and dizzy.”

“Oh my Gods, I’m so sorry!” You felt awful– you had told someone that you felt the air was a bit too hot in the audience, but you were brushed off. This just proved that you were right. “You all come with me, there’s fresh water and everything in the guest house I’m staying in tonight.”

You ushered everyone out of Opera Epiclese and into the small building next to it. It was the guesthouse, built solely for performers without a place to stay as they traveled. You were given it for your time in Fontaine and couldn’t be more grateful, especially at a time like this when someone is in need. 

Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet– as you learned their names were– followed you and a pouting Furina into the house. You offered them all a seat on the couches and chairs before running to the kitchen and grabbing a bowl of cool water and a rag. You sat next to Lyney, who was silent the entire time, and neared his face as you put the rag on his forehead. You were a bit confused at Lynette and Furina’s snickering behind you, but you could only worry about the boy in front of you whose face turned even redder at your closeness. 

“Say,” Furina spoke up, “Lyney and Lynette here are performing at the Opera Epiclese tomorrow. Fancy a show?”

“Really?” You looked into Lyney’s eyes, “What do you do?”

He swallowed, and you wondered if he needed a glass of water. “Magic.”

“You’re magicians? No way!” You grinned, “I’ve always wanted to see a magic show live! Furina, I think we should go. I’d love to see more of these two.”

“I do too.” Lynette joined, “We can get you on the reservation list for front and center… unless you’d like to sit VIP with Furina?” 

“We’ll both sit front row. Neuvillette can have front row if he wishes to attend.” Furina grinned at Lynette, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were missing out of something as you cared for Lyney. 

“Wonderful.” Lynette stands up, followed by Freminet. “I think Lyney just needs rest now, but we don’t live far in the Court of Fontaine. We probably need to head out before it gets too late.” 

You nod and hold your hand out to Lyney, who takes a second of staring before taking your hand and hoisting himself up. You both definitely hold on a bit too long to be typical for someone you just met, but exceptions could always be made. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Lynette.” You glance back at the boy at your side. “Lyney.” 

“Y-yes.” He speaks. You like his voice. “Tomorrow evening. I’d love to see you there.” 

After the three left, Furina stayed on your couch and stared. 

You sat across from her, staring back with a puzzled expression. 

This was the longest you’d ever heard her be quiet and it was incredibly unnerving. You couldn’t take much more of this. 

“What?”

Another beat of silence. “What do you mean ‘what’?”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean’? What did I do?”

“You’ve never done that before.”

“Done what, Furina? I don’t have time for this–”

“Gotten all flustered like that. You don’t even dote on me like that and I’m your best friend.”

“Lynette said that he got overheated during the performance.” You defended, “I had to help him, I felt bad. I told the crew that it was too hot in there but they didn’t listen–”

“You’re stupid.” Before you could retort in offense, Furina leaned forward. “You haven’t been that open and nice since…” 

You’re glad she doesn’t finish that sentence– doesn’t let his name leave her mouth. Furina is right and you know it, but you definitely don’t want to admit that. Especially not to her. 

“I just felt bad.” She doesn’t believe you and you know it. “Fur, you know I can’t. People can’t keep up with my life. He’s cute, but I’m better off alone.” 

Furina looks away for a moment as if to think about what she’s going to say next for the first time ever. “He’s different.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“First, I know him better than you do. I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with that crew, and I’m the Hydro Archon. I know everyone in Fontaine.” She twirls a finger around her hair– a telltale sign that she’s desperate for someone to listen to her. You want to oblige, but your mind won’t let you. “Lyney understands the life of a performer. Has he traveled? No. But I bet he’d be more than willing to travel with you as like– an opening act or something!” She snaps her fingers as if this is some sort of life-changing revelation. 

Your anxiety says otherwise. 

“What about Lynette and Freminet?”

“They can go with you!” She says as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Lynette is Lyney’s assistant, so she has to go. Freminet would be good with helping with finances or something. Or if you happen to drop your wedding ring in the ocean, he can get it.”

“Wedding ring?”

“Yeah, for when you marry–”

A knock on the door interrupts her and you’ve never been happier. You give each other confused looks before you get up and open the door a crack. Behind it is a face all-too-familiar, and you open it wider. 

“I-uh, forgot my hat here.” Lyney, cheeks still rosy, rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“O-oh, of course!” You stammer out, leaving him at the door and finding his hat in one of the other chairs. Furina stares him down in a way that makes him feel like he’s intruding on a very important conversation, but he tries to brush it off as one of her theatrics. 

Lyney’s smile returns when you appear again, his hat in your hands, and tries to ignore the jump of his heart as his fingers accidentally brush yours when he takes it. “Thank you so much.” You watch as his figure begins to retreat from the guesthouse, but he quickly turns around and waves. “And I do hope to see you tomorrow.”

—---

Lyney does, in fact, get to see you tomorrow. 

Peeking through the curtain, he sees you front and center, sitting in the same exact seat that he was in the night before. Furina is at your side, chatting with you happily and ignoring the questioning whispers of her citizens as they question why she’s on the floor instead of in her box. Their questions cease when they see you. 

A bit of jealousy hits him as he sees some citizens ask for your autograph or come up to talk to you, but he can’t dwell on it long before Lynette is behind him. 

“Is she here?”

“Yes.” He lets out a nervous breath. “Everything has to be perfect tonight.” 

“It will be.” She reassures, “And don’t worry about anything else. I have it all covered. She’s come to see you and you alone, so you just focus on being the best you can be.”

Lyney has never been more grateful for his sister than he is at that moment. Sure, it was one thing when she accepted his schoolgirl crush on a famous singer, but when she was actually here, at their show, watching him, she was the best wingman in Teyvat. 

He peeked out of the curtain once more, his breath catching in his throat when he sees you looking directly at him. You wave and send him a soft smile and Lyney can feel his entire body heat up. He’s determined and ready for this show to start. 

And with a short countdown, it does. 

In most performances, Lyney keeps his eyes above the crowd. It’s an illusion many performers learn– don’t look directly at anyone specifically, it’s easier to quell the anxiety of thousands of eyes being on you, judging your every move. He knows you do this tactic as well, getting to witness it firsthand last night as you wowed the crowd from the very stage he was on tonight. He wondered how he could possibly be equal to such a wonderful performance and his mind gets a bit louder as doubts start plaguing him. As quickly as they come, however, they disappear. 

Lyney looks at you. 

You’re dressed beautifully, hair and makeup done simply as if to bare the real you. Oh, how Lyney longs to know the real you. 

You think it’s a funny coincidence when the first rose comes to you. Just a chance that a draft happened to send it directly into your lap after Lyney throws it into the crowd. Same with the second rose, that he passed off to you personally as he walked by after doing his switch trick with the box. You realize it’s not just some happenstance when the performance ends and you are left with a bouquet of roses in your hands, your face hot as Furina teases you. 

“Rainbow roses have special meaning in Fontaine, you know.” She grinned. You swatted her away. 

“I know.” You huff, “He probably uses those in every show to make the little lucky audience girl feel special.”

Furina opens her mouth to speak, but a voice from behind speaks up before she can. “I normally use Romaritime Flowers, and only pull one out of my hat, but I thought tonight I could do something a little different.”

Lyney prays you aren’t uncomfortable when you turn around– the adrenaline of the show is the only thing driving him to speak to you steadily right now, and he didn’t know what he’d do if he got rejected. He’s pleasantly surprised when you do turn around and your mouth is slightly agape, your cheeks darker than usual. He did his job. 

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“Keep them, they’re yours.” Lyney places his hands on yours to push them back when you go to give him back the bouquet, but he doesn’t remove them when you clutch the flowers to your chest. “This is my official offer– let me treat you to dinner.” 

You turn your head to give Furina a look, but she’s long gone. You make a note to curse her out later. 

“Lyney, I want to accept your offer. So badly. But I just know it won’t work.”

Seeing Lyney’s face fall almost makes you want to take it back, but you can’t. You can’t get hurt again. 

“Please,” His voice has gone soft, “How do you know that?”

“It’s happened before. I’m just protecting you. I’m going to be gone soon and you can forget about this little infatuation–”

“No!” Lyney blurts out but quickly composes himself. “You’re not protecting me, you’re protecting yourself. I’m not whatever man hurt you in the past. I’m a performer too, I can handle all the things that entails.” 

“Lyn… This is only my third country on my tour. I have so many more left, I’ll be gone for a very long time. It’s not fair to ask you to wait for me.”

“I think I get to decide what’s fair for me.” You don’t respond, looking away. Lyney takes your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “And I think that me waiting for you is a fair trade if it means you come back to me in the end. Please, ma chérie. Consider it.” 

You took a breath, weighing the options as seriously as the Oratrice. You think back to your conversations– the ones with your manager, the ones with Furina. Finally, you meet his eyes fully. Lyney hasn’t looked away, a softness in his eyes that you were not expecting.

“Let’s go to dinner. I’ve been thinking of hiring an opening act for the rest of the tour anyways. How do you feel about that?”

[yuurei20]

How is the English version of Twisted Wonderland Different? (Jamil)

Jamil’s overall situation was heavily rewritten for the English-speaking audience.

As Kalim himself explains, Jamil and his family are servants for Kalim and his family.

Jamil is constantly using the word “従者” to refer to himself, which is close to body servant / personal attendant / aid, and EN will sometimes translate directly, but it is rare.

Jamil uses a different word to describe the rest of the staff employed by Asims, though “staff” is one of the interpretations that is used for his role in the English-language adaptation.

More often Jamil’s role is rewritten as “employee” for the EN, with Kalim’s role as his master being rewritten as “boss.”

This happens multiple times in the Firelit Sky event, where Jamil’s references to his master, “Kalim-sama,” were changed to him saying “employer.”

Jamil’s line of calling himself a “servant” was changed to “dedicated employee” on EN, and the character has been rewritten into someone who is voluntarily dedicated to his job, while—in the original game—he was born into servitude that he fulfills against his will:

In a conversation with Floyd Jamil originally says that he cannot comprehend the twins’ relationship with Azul because he has been a servant of the Asim house since he was born and that “Masters are masters and servants are servants, and that will likely never change.”

This was not only rewritten on EN with the “masters are masters, servants are servants” line removed, but in English he goes so far as to say, “I’ve always been loyal of the Asim house. And that will likely never change,” instead.

In the original game Jamil expresses concern that Kalim's father would make his family suffer if he ever stood up for himself, but this was changed on EN to Jamil worrying about a lecture from his parents.

Jamil explains that he risks putting his family on the street if he were to defy Kalim, and this was also removed from EN. (This information was retained in another scene, however, where Jamil says there would be consequences for his entire family if Kalim were exposed to any danger, even on EN.)

The prefect comments, “That doesn’t seem like a responsibility that a child should be burdened with,” changed on EN to, “I guess you make a good point.”

In another line that was removed from EN Jamil says, “That is the fate of those born a Viper,” insinuating that his little sister Najma may also be a servant of the Asims, just like their parents and himself.

In a flashback, we see Jamil get physically struck by one of his parents for refusing to play a game with “Master Kalim,” as an example of how Jamil is eing forced to defer to Kalim in all situations, and has been from childhood (we are not shown how Kalim reacts to this happening in front of him).

When the headmage compliments him on his cooking, however, Jamil’s reassurance of “It is all thanks to Kalim” was removed from EN.

Jamil is not shy about referencing his and Kalim’s dynamic at the school, often referring to himself as the servant and to Kalim as his master, though these lines are usually rewritten on EN.

During his birthday vignette, for example, he says that he would like to teach a parrot to say the word “Master.” This was changed on EN to him wanting to teach it how to say, “hello.”

Calling Jamil “Master” seems to be a side effect of his unique magic. This was kept for Book 6, but removed from Book 5 of the English-language adaptation.

Aside from the attendant/master drama, Jamil’s character has also been changed:

As explained even in the English version of the game, Jamil—like Idia—seems to dislike tradition, saying that he is not fond of his hometown because, “It’s still clinging on to all the tired old customs…much to my chagrin.”

In EN’s attempts to rewrite references to Jamil’s servitude, however, he has been changed into someone who respects tradition.

Original Jamil: How could a vassal ever be permitted to turn on their master?

EN Jamil: How could I betray our history like that?

While Jamil originally says he does not want to make the opening ceremonies into an embarrassing memory for his master, EN-Jamil says that “It wouldn’t do for an attendant of House Al-Asim to not uphold tradition.”

[ginoeh]

medieval archer hob smut?????????????

And for @chaosheadspace as well! I hope the friend you're asking for enjoys this...

Anyway. How am I not surprised I get asked about this one lol. This is a oneshot idea that got born when I accidentially started a conversation about archery and bows in the server. you might remember. possibly.

This is a shameless excuse to write even more shameless smut. (This is your only cw for this post - not nsfw yet)

***

The coronation of a new king is upon the land. Prince Morpheus, soon to be Monarch of the Sleeping Marches, along with more titles than impoverished Sir Hob can possibly remember, has called for a tournament. A simple archer's battle, the Prince has commanded, to let each village and be it yet the tiniest one, have a chance to take part and gain riches: a score years and five without taxes, and enough grains from the royal storehouse to plant their fields with. It is an unheard of favour and the whole country is awash with contestants traveling to the capital for their hometown's fortune. 

Hob is the best - and only - archer his village has to send. And the favour he wants to gain supersedes the promised material security his win would promise. 

He has seen the Prince, a long time ago, has traveled in his entourage once and laid game at his feet for his pleasure. He can still feel the heat his Prince's eyes had left on his skin when Hob had presented him with the carcass of a full-bodied doe; remembers well the way his eyes had darkened when Hob had come to stand before him, linen tunic long since shucked off in the summer's haze.

Hob knows which prize he wants.  

(sordid details under the cut XD)

***

Hob unwinds the favour from his bow. The black silk slips through his fingers like water and catches on his callouses. He wonders if the Prince's skin will feel like that - smooth and cool, soft, pale like milk. He glances over to his Prince where he lounges at the table, thrown nearly indolently across a much too ornately carved chair.  

“Will you not come closer, my favoured?” Amusement curls his future King's lips. He twirls the stem of his wineglass between elegant fingers before he sets it next to a vase of rich red roses.

Hob leans his bow against the wall and pulls the door closed behind him. 

“If you wish it, my Lord. I am yours to command, after all.”

Prince Morpheus smiles. “Is that so, Sir Gadling?”

On the other hand, maybe the Prince's skin would be warm and slick underneath his hands, beads of salty sweat refracting the glow of candlelight in the dark. Hob would lick a path across unblemished skin, from navel to the pale chest and throat that tempt him so with their coy display from beneath loosely tailored robes.

Maybe the black silk would look good, drawn tight over the Prince's bony wrists. 

“Take a seat,” Prince Morpheus says and leans forward. The collar of his robes falls open wider than should be decent. “Supp with me. And take the reward you fought for.”

Hob grips the band of silk tighter. ‘Later’, he thinks to himself, ‘Be careful, take your time.’

His Lord's eyes alight on Hob's hands where he strangles the favour, travel up his arm and biceps to feast upon his broad shoulders and chest. Hob feels a blush rise to his cheeks in the scorching gaze's wake.

The Prince licks his lips.

“We have the whole evening to ourselves, my favoured.” He gestures around himself and smiles from beneath dark lashes. “Enjoy whatever you wish, inside these walls.”

Hob unclasps his traveling cloak and loosens the tightly drawn strings of his chemise's collar before he takes a seat at the table. The spread is rich and worthy of a king, to be true, but his gaze doesn't stray from Prince Morpheus’ when he lays the black silk kerchief next to his plate and runs a finger along it slowly.

“Truly, I intend to, my Lord,” he says and chances a grin.      

***

***

There's sensory deprivation, bound hands, a rose, bow similes and the like lol. The whole nsfw shebang with a bit of d/s undertones bc why not. Not like I've never written actual porn before or something. help how did i get to this point

As you were.

[homunculus-argument]

Weird ask. I sent an ask a while ago asking if the US was as bad as it seemed cause I was thinking about moving. There are a few schools that may pay for me to go to grad school, one of which is in Helsinki. Additionally the university has a good relationship with CERN, which I would love to work for. I know Finland has issues, getting citizenship is very iffy, and my Finnish is garbage. But like, would I be stupid to have that on my list and potentially move to Finland?

Having born and lived here all my life, and not really closely knowing anyone who would have permanently moved here as an adult, I can't say how bad the immigration and citizenship systems are compared to those systems of any other country, but given the choice between the two, I flat-out don't hesitate to say that Finland is a better place to live altogether.

Like I know there's no removing cultural bias out of a person, of course one's own land is dearest to anyone by pure instinct alone, but even with the attachment removed - if I had no choice but to move to another continent, one that I'm completely unfamiliar with and have never been to, and had to choose between two countries whose languages I don't speak, and one of them was structured like the US is, and the other one has government systems similar to Finland, I would pick the latter without a second of hesitation.

Last time I visited the US, I saw more homeless people in a week than I had seen in a year or maybe five years at home. There's one guy in my hometown who's visibly homeless and sleeping rough, and apparently when he's asked if he needs help, his answer is "no thanks, I'm good." I know this because there was a article in the local newspaper about what one can even do to help people who decline help, naming one man as an example, and it couldn't have been anyone else. Finland isn't a rosy utopia where everyone's living a perfect life, and there are social problems here, but I can unironically say that total homelesness is rare enough that literally one guy sleeping rough on the street is unusual enough that it made the goddamn news.

[sockmeat]

What are y’all’s thoughts on Crimson from HB?? Like obviously he’a a piece of shit, but there is literally so much potential for dark content my mind is BUZZING

I HAVE SOME IDEAS... ok i only have 2 (just a warning, they’re a little dark)

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

THE FIRST ONE: The reader is Moxxie’s little sister. When Moxxie goes to jail and chooses to stay away from his hometown and family, he forgets one thing--his little sister.     Ever since Moxxie left, Crimson has been telling reader how much Moxxie hates her, how much he hates the family, how much he wanted to get away from her.

    So, reasonably, the reader grows to resent Moxxie. Occasionally, she’ll think about what life outside of the mansion is like. She’ll remember how Moxxie treated her, how he made sure she was never around for Crimson’s fits, and wonder if he doesn’t actually hate her.

    Crimson has gotten good at spotting when this happens: she’s less willing to listen to his commands, she’s always spacing out, and always looking at Moxxie’s empty room. He’s always quick to snip that hesitance in the bud and warp her perspective of her dear older brother. She’s always been a daddy’s girl (and hasn’t really had a taste of a healthy relationship), so she believes him.

    When the IMP is called over to the mansion, Crimson doesn’t tell the reader that Moxxie is there. He is fiercely protective of her and knows Moxxie would try to save her.

    Crimson’s reason for inviting Moxxie doesn’t change. He wants Moxxie to marry Chazwick. However, this time, Crimson does have a back-up plan: if Crimson is unable to marry Chazwick, for whatever reason, the reader will marry him instead.

    I haven’t quite decided how Moxxie and the reader will reunite, but I don’t want it to be too soon. Maybe she’s attracted to the commotion Millie causes and enters the wedding and barely sees Moxxie before he’s swooped off.

THE SECOND IDEA: The reader is Moxxie’s mother and Crimson’s wife. She basically replaces the actual character. Unfortunately for her, she has a bit of a savior complex so she aims to try and help Crimson’s state of mind.

    They met before Moxxie was conceived. Her family is a part of a smaller chain of the mafia and basically relies on the (wtf is their last name??) family to keep their connections and stay out of debt.

    The reader’s and Crimsons’ marriage was arranged. It was decided since before they were born that the oldest of their families, which happened to be them, would wed and have an heir.

    Unfortunately for the reader, both families have a pretty sexist point of view. They believe the women should serve their husbands and make sure the children are spoken for. Among the long list of no-no’s, she isn’t allowed to raise a fist to Crimson. She hasn’t been taught basic self defense to ensure she doesn’t break this rule.

    At first, Crimson is very clear about his hatred for her. Though, since he’s so adamant about not disrespecting the family, he only expresses it when they’re behind closed doors.

    The reader still tries despite how he treats her. She’s determined to live a normal life, and if that means risking it to get closer to Crimson, so be it. It’s all or nothing.

    The reader’s story is a bit like the ugly duckling. Until her mid-teen years, she has no idea how to dress, pose, or look flattering at all. Crimson continues to be rude and unforgiving until she gets her glow-up.

    That’s when he starts to notice her more. How she doesn’t raise her voice at him no matter what he does to pester her, how she somehow finds a reason to forgive him despite everything, how her boobs have grown since they were kids--

    Yeah, he pretty much jumps her bones whenever he gets the opportunity. Moxxie is born and the reader stops trying to please Crimson 24/7 to take care and nurture Moxxie.

That’s about as far as I got on that...

I do wanna write these, but I’m not sure how big the Crimson Simps(TM) sections will go considering he’s a douche bag

Let me know!