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patchies · 3 years

Text

Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not… Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: none that I can think of

Word Count: 2.8+k

Author's note: hi, hi, hi! I bring you a new chapter after what... 1 and a half months of not uploading anything? My apologies are probably not enough, but I have been working on chapters, I promise! And, drum roll, please, I might have some art in store for this series. It isn't done, yet, but I'm trying to work on it, guys!

Wattpad link: here

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Chapter 4: Forming Friendship

As the sun starts off the next day, you and Nick depart from your home in search of more resources. He throws in a suggestion that you should spread out, so you could cover more ground, and you agree- not like you have anything else to do for the meantime. Unless you want to be stuck at home playing some card games Nick had found while searching for the paint buckets.

You search the places south, just outside the town. All the buildings look the same to your wondering eyes, nothing valuable piquing your interest that much, so you rather opt for wandering further. Through the greenery until a clearing reveals itself before you.

A beautiful and elegant meadow stretches across the horizon. As if a page was torn from a fairy-tale book, and rightfully so. The only thing missing is a royal castle or fairies' houses. Pollen flies in the air and swirls around you enchantingly and a surge of calmness goes through your being. An accommodation in your body along with the feeling of delight.

The nature has truly taken over most of the world.

It's not like you can complain, really. Colours, textures and elements flow with each other in a beautiful harmony, creating an almost painting-like picture that you can marvel at.

Deep down, you were always a fan of the quietness Mother nature has offered you at times in need. Whenever you felt down, really.

You slightly remember how it helped you with your anxiety, shyness and depression when you used to be socially awkward and unwilling to do something about it. It felt peaceful compared to the continuous pressure many people used to put on you. Not many people were harsh on you, but your social battery could take so much until all you were ready to do was just lie down, put on a playlist of your favourite songs and chill. They denied your want to be left alone when the only thing you needed was space and your own time. Their faces are now blurry images of faces you once used to know, but you don't know if you'll ever get back to your life or how long it might take.

I should throw away my pessimistic thoughts…

That was a part of the old you, though. You'd like to think that you're better now, but your pessimism has stayed with you nonetheless. It's about time you started working on it and who knows? You might get to form plenty friendships here who will be willing to help you.

With a shake of your messy hair, you focus back to the beauty in front of you, pushing the vines away and walking towards the flowery meadow.

Yellow grains contrast gorgeously with the sparse greenery the field has to offer here and there.

You bent down and pluck one of the many Dahlias near your feet, putting the pistil close to your nose.

Sniff, sniff, sniff

The flower alone doesn't smell alluring or sweet, like anything. The stem and leaves, on another note, smell bitter with a slight flowery undertone. It strikes a sense of serenity in you as you inspect the innocent white petals be carried away from you by the wind, flying off to the clear sky to join the fine powdery substance.

You let go of the stem and watch it be snatched, following its trace until it falls between the loads of flowers.

Just then, a gentler breeze begins and takes a handful of leaves of the ground, aiming just below a small hill to your left as if it had a mind of its own. You realize that it might actually do as it points you to a lone building sitting at the base, overflown with the finest flora you've ever faced.

A mere bookshop from what you can see from the distance. The walls are built from brick and it still seems in a decent shape, except the nature, but that gives it a special charm. A great place to get away from all this chaotic and death-threating events for even a while.

You carefully move through the grass and blossoms, trekking your way up to it.

• • •

Meanwhile, somewhere far away from you, a deer curiously, yet cautiously, examines you from a cliffside looking over the whole meadow. Its doe eyes flick from you to a small fawn by its side.

It huffs, shakes its head and turns, departing into the forest.

• • •

The inside is wondrous, despite your expectations of it being completely trashed.

Bookshelves line the walls and are all filed with all styles of literature. Slightly used, torn and unkept. It gives you an idea how no one surely visits this place. The place looks great, so it doesn't make much sense to you. You cannot help but be a little happy over the fact at that despite the telling signs of its abandonment.

Your hand automatically lifts up to slide over the spines of the books, keeping your touch light as you advance further inside. The rough, yet extremely soothing, texture extracts a small smile from you and you close your eyes. You begin dragging your other appendage across the parallel shelf until a thud makes you shoot your eyes open in alert, whipping your head behind you, but finding nothing out of ordinary.

With your now unsure footsteps, you slowly walk to the end of the aisle in front of you, peeking around the corner.

You catch sight of a short boy sitting in front of a shelf, or rather a stand, with comic books. He's sat down near the middle where the wooden stand is, flipping through each comic with haste.

A messy brown nest of hair sits atop his head while a flower crown with some scarce plastic bees thrown in reasts atop and a long green scarf messily wrapped around his neck. It strangely compliments his look that is styled with green, golden and black and despite the apocalyptic surroundings and lack of proper resources, you're surprised he's styled it very prettily.

A black stylish coat with golden accents is thrown on the floor near him along with his messenger bag, its contents peeking out. Especially the thick book with a pack of pencils. You wonder what the book contains, but maybe you'll get a chance to see it sometime.

You cautiously and carefully lean against a counter near you, observing the young boy as he shuffles through numerous comics. He huffs out a long sigh, throwing another book aside. It comes tumbling down back to him due to the amount he has already piled on top of each other. His nimble fingers pick up another one, swiping through it with precision.

He mumbles something quietly, softly putting the comic onto another pile beside him that is neat compared to the other one.

This demeanour continues for a long minute, basically choosing a book in a ratio that one is kept and twelve are thrown away. He never seems too happy with his decision, frowning at some in sadness despite having to give up on them. You don't understand why he doesn't put them onto the obvious piles of his favourites, but you stand in your place.

Having enough of watching, you whistle too loudly to get his attention.

Only to see the guy jump up in the air and slip on a paper he has previously abandoned on the ground. He pointlessly flails his arms around until his elbow hits the ground first, followed by his hip and the rest of his body.

You wince.

As if caught in the headlights, he spins his head to you. The previously left out paper now present on his head. You see confusion, fear and surprise fight against who will persevere on his face, so you lower your shoulders back down and give him an awkward smile, “Uh, sorry?”

He unsurely stumbles to his feet and dusts his clothes off, tightening the scarf around his neck with tense movement. His eyes widen and he makes a quick, though awkward, show of pulling out a stick?

He fumbles around with it for a bit before it extends into a normal looking sword, posing heroically, “I'll- uh, stab you! Yeah! I'll use this sword to stab you.”

You quirk an eyebrow at his choice of words, and at the adorable stutter he did, “Do you even know how to wield a sword?”

“Of course, I do! Wait- do I? No, no, no, you're just trying to make me look silly. I do know-”

Cue an uncoordinated swing of the sharpened weapon at his own leg, but at least his reaction time seems to be fast and he slides his foot out of harm's way just in time. One he created, and he watches as the sword penetrates the wooden boards and he struggles to pull it out.

His action makes you doubt his abilities further and a you can't help the small giggle that escapes you, raising your arms in mock defence when he sends you a defensive glare, “You- you cannot be serious. Quit the child's play, I'm not here to hurt you.”

He stays quiet, still pulling on the handle of the sword with unfortunate outcomes. It slips out of his fists multiple times and he sighs before flopping down onto the floor, defeated, “I guess I really don't know.”

You choose not to retort any sassy comeback to his gloomy self, rather analysing his figure and approaching the weapon. Arms still held above your head to show you don't plan on attacking, your features soft, “Mind me getting the weapon for you? I won't use it against you, I promise.”

“Go ahead,” he gives you an absent wave of his hand and only stares as you grip the handle.

At first, you tug and nothing happens, so you try holding it at a specific place and are delighted when you feel a small button press against your palm, giving it one more tug along with a squeeze of the switch.

An imaginary lightbulb blinks above his head as he sees the sword retract from the ground and you're left gripping the stick in your hand, “See? It isn't as hard, is it now?”

“I admit, you're right,” he accepts the handle from your outstretched hand, storing it into his hoodie pocket.

No wonder you didn't notice it before. He's had it hidden there and he had to have pulled it out when you whistled. Although you personally wouldn't own a weapon like that, it probably comes in handy for situations like these. You aren't sure if it'd be beneficial in an actual fight against a stronger and better crafted weapon, though.

A switchblade would do a better job, surely. From what you've seen, they're a lighter object, more portable and friendlier to beginners. Might even suit his style of fighting better, even if you haven't seen it in action yet, to be truthful, “I do believe I'm right.”

“I would beat you if I had my hatchet!”

You chuckle, “Well, we can always engage in hand-to-hand combat, if you're that confident in getting me. Why use weapons?”

His eyes widen and all his courage dissipates, waving his hands crazily and shaking his head, “When you say it like that, I'll pass you on that offer, thank you. Why didn't you attack me, by the way? Oh, and also, I'm Tubbo, since we seem to be okay with each other.”

Refraining from telling him your name back, you swing your arm at his head and watch him yelp, shut his eyes and flinch from you in humorous satisfaction. You stop it inches from his face, lowering it and stepping away from him, “You should've seen your face, Mr. Tubbo. I'd say we are okay, but I had to pull that on you and to answer your question of my peace towards you… You just seemed harmless.”

He stands up and looks at you in feign anger, jabbing an accusing finger into your chest “You're so cruel, what? I can't trust you now.”

Tubbo crosses his arms, turning away from you. You turn away from him and spot his collection of comics. His previous actions coming to the forefront of your mind, “Hey, why were you browsing through so many comics?”

“I was looking for something,” he shrugs, walking past you and picking up quite a big amount of comic books. He catches the incredulous glance you give the items in his hands and nods his head at them, “They aren't for me.”

“You looked quite sad when you couldn't grab one for yourself, why can't you?”

He's surprised you picked up on that, but he just shrugs, “I would. If my bag allowed me to carry so much at once and I just want to surprise my friends.”

You give a small 'aww', making his ears flush pink and cower away, “I could help you carry them. Where is your camp?”

“I don't think I should be revealing that to strangers, but I've never been the smartest with decisions and I'm sure you'd notice either way,” Tubbo stuffs the books inside his bag, barely closing it, “I could just act like I abducted you.”

“Won't that be suspicious? You actually seem like a person who's too nice to do that.”

The bee boy lightly grins at that while putting his coat on, throwing the messenger bag on his shoulder, “I'm bad at acting, too, so they'd surely notice.”

“Are any of them keeping guard on this place, by the way?”

“No,” his answer is straight-forward, without any hesitation, “It might be very shocking, but none of my friends know about this place. Although I visit quite often than not. It gets quite harsh out there, y'know?”

You hum, choosing to drop the subject and return back to an airier topic, “Which ones do you like?”

Tubbo's quick to light up at the change, dropping to his knees and shuffling through the messy mountain of comics once again. He carelessly throws ten of them at you in happiness and leaves you grasping them to your chest. You laugh at his enthusiasm, reading off few of the titles and shaking your head as he keeps on searching for more.

This was probably a crazy idea, but whatever. Tubbo seems like an adorable person to be around.

Not long after you get ready to leave, keeping the conversation loose and it's almost effortless how you get along. The themes get intertwined between you with ease, pointing to some aspects around you if you want to make a point.

He is a strange guy to get a hold of, but you can say that you like how easy-going talking is with him. The male has visibly suffered some of his own stuff, but he still has this bubbly personality around him that you can't wrap your mind around. Though, you enjoy that little perk he has.

At one point, you lose sight of the boy, looking around you in confusion only to have him appear behind you and throw a freshly made flower crown on top of your head. The question of where he got it from is lost to his ears as he babbles on how he needs to teach you the crafting of one, so you could be 'flower crown buddies'. His own words. Your reaction is to bump your shoulder with his, joking how he is too goofy for you to even want to learn. A look of betrayal is thrown at you and you chuckle.

He proceeds to skip at certain intervals during your trek through the forest, too, visibly being excited to earn a new friend who is close to his wave-length. You don't even notice when you get close, having too much fun getting to know each other and goof around, but Tubbo increasingly slows his steps near an old-looking house.

He turns to you, “Well, this is my stop. I shouldn't take you further or I'll get spanked for not listening to my peers.”

“Uh, I won't respond to that, though I hope everything's alright back at your base. You shouldn't go through child abuse anywhere,” you awkwardly scratch at your neck, handing him the comic books meant for him.

Tubbo light-heartedly laughs at your perplexed self, a jokester-like glint appearing in his eyes as he accepts the papers, “I hope we can meet again.”

“I do, too, and hey. The library can be our place, if you're comfortable enough to call it that,” you heartily smile at him, ruffling his hair and receiving a pouty 'hey! my hair, not yours!'.

He shakes his head to fix your doings, throwing a lop-sided grin, “I can allow that.”

“Well, I should go,” you look up to the sky, seeing the sun brightly shining more to the west side now. It shouldn't be that long before you'll have to get ready for the night and report your findings with Nick. Not like you have much to say to him, but there are some things worth mentioning to him, “I have a friend possibly waiting for me already. It was incredible meeting you, Tubbo!”

“Likewise.”

#technoblade #dream #sapnap #apocalypse au #reader insert #mcyt x reader #mcyt #techno #dream team #dream x reader #dreamwastaken #l'manburg #shadows #??? x reader

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x0401x · 3 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #16

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Colombo’s Bookstore

Sri Lanka didn’t have as many bookstores as Japan. It had about three times as many used car shops as in Japan, I believed. But there were few bookstores.

In the first place, be them used car stores or bookstores, the shops were by no means big. This country was a tiny island with a national territory smaller than Japan’s, so lands that had forest reserves of local nature in them and real estate were probably valuable. If anything, I had an affinity for the place. But it was a pity that the bookstores were so few.

I often spent my time alone nowadays, so above all else, I appreciated having anything to read. I wasn’t the bookworm type, but there were just too many book-selling places in Japan. If you were getting off at some notable station in Tokyo, no matter which one it was, there would be at least one bookstore within walking distance. I also had a fresh memory of Saul-san telling me that “Japanese people really like their books”.

A street vendor was selling scissors in front of a bookstore in the sunlit streets of Colombo, the capital of Sri Lanka. Why did he decide to sell scissors by the road? And right before my eyes, a person on a bus riding slowly down the avenue was buying a pair of scissors from him. Did they have some bag that they wanted to cut open no matter what or something? I had no idea, but anyway, this was a world that operated with standards different from Japan’s, in which supply and demand were apparently well-established.

With glass doors, the bookstore had a magnificent structure and felt nice and cold when I stepped in. The study reference books were on the second floor, so I went up the arched stairs that parted to left and right, searching for the shelf that I was aiming for.

There you are.

I took three books from it, and when I went to the checkout, the female clerk, dressed in a sari, asked me, “Is this all?” in English. The official languages of this country were English, Sinhala and Tamil, with English being spoken by both Sinhalese and Tamils. I believed she was Sinhalese. Because the sari was not a Hindu but a Buddhist thing.

“These are volumes 2, 3 and 4. What about volume 1?”

“I bought just volume 1 a while ago. And it was really good, so I also wanted to learn the rest from this book series.”

“So you’re studying Sinhala. That’s rare. Where are you from?”

“I’m Japanese,” I answered.

What I had come to buy was a Sinhala language study reference book. It was a book for people who couldn’t read Sinhala, so it was, of course, written in English. Even so, I had read it a little before traveling. I also found and purchased a Sinhala language study reference book written by a Japanese scholar, which I was able to buy in Japan.

Regardless, it was kind of useless for my range of understanding, so I almost felt like throwing it away before I could learn anything. I told Saul-san about this when asking him for advice, at which he burst into laughter and then bought me a red paperback book.

A Sinhala book written in English.

The letters were very large and there weren’t too many words. As for the quality of the paper, on the bright side, it was straw paper, and on the downside, it was gray and flimsy. But the contents were very easy to understand and the insides were firmly packed.

This reference book taught Sinhala letters first, as well as the meaning and pronunciation of each one. From that point onward, I couldn’t be more thankful for it. Sinhala was a language written with a Sinhalese alphabet, after all. In addition to vowels such as A, I, U, E and O, it jumped on to a variety of consonants and other symbols that stuck one letter to another like joints. It explained each of them carefully so that even people who didn’t know Sinhalese at all could understand them. This book solved a large percentage of the problem that I had stumbled upon, namely “I can’t find the commonalities and differences between letters, so I don’t know how to tell them apart and can’t organize them in my head”. I was grateful for that. There was no need to ask Richard-sensei for a foreign language course via international call all the time anymore.

That being said, there were many letters in Sinhala. Meaning that there were several pronunciations. You’d think that the Japanese syllabary was cute in comparison. Not all of it could be explained in one book, and the lectures were extended over to the second volume, but Saul-san had bought only one book, in case it didn’t suit me. The results were as could be seen. It was the same kind of joy as reading one book from a novel series and then buying all the sequels.

Learning languages was fun. By the looks of it, learning how to link them directly to communication was what worked for me.

“But can’t you live in Sri Lanka while speaking English, even if you don’t understand Sinhala? Are you on a business trip?”

“Something like that, but if possible, I’d like to talk to people using a Sri Lankan language. I’m Japanese, but I’ve had the experience of being a bit happy when someone from a foreign country spoke in Japanese to me, so now I guess it’s my turn.”

“You have so much free time, huh!”

I had no words to reply. The clerk and I burst into laughter without any reserve and finished the checkout. As I went down the arched stairs, I found a space where they were selling festival tools, stationery and picture books. Many of the same books were arranged on two sides.

Or so I thought.

But that was apparently not it. What I thought to be the exact same large-format picture books were the English version and the Sinhala version. You’d miss it if you were distracted because the pictures were the same, but the picture book, which was probably a Sri Lankan version of a “Japanese folktale”-like work, was published in two languages.

“Y’see, the ones who buy these are parents who want their kids to learn English. ‘Cause speaking English comes in handy.”

When I turned around, the clerk who had been at the cash register on the second floor was right behind me. It seemed she had come to see me off. Apparently, the cashier on the first floor called out to her, telling her to go back to work or something like that, to which she replied at length, and the two exchanged laughs. Maybe the people in this bookstore were cheerful, as not all Sri Lankans expressed their emotions so openly.

“This one is the ‘Mean Old Man’. This one is ‘The Perahera Festival’.”

“Can even a small child understand it well?”

“Of course. This book is big so that it’s easy to read to them.”

Indeed, it was a thin picture book of a size larger than A4. In Japan, it wouldn’t be strange for it to have an anime or manga-style art, but the art of this one had an ethnic touch to it, perhaps to match the contents. The colors were rich, the mean old man was drawn in a vile yet comical way, and the blue gradation of the feathers in a bird’s tail looked tasteful.

“Hum, excuse me. Can I buy this too?”

“You’re going to buy it? Do you have children?”

“I’ll read it myself.”

The clerk laughed again, but after a moment, she made a straight face and told me that it certainly might be perfect for studying. I bought the picture book at the cash register on the first floor. Either way, it cost about 500 Sri Lankan rupees, which was about 600 Japanese yen, but in the eyes of this country’s people, that was probably quite a high price. This was a world of 10 rupees for a loaf of bread and 3 rupees for a cup of tea. Thinking like that, I could understand why there weren’t many bookstores and why there were so few people here.

You can’t eat or drink books. They’re not daily necessities either, like clothes, scissors or toothbrushes. Being able to spend money on such things as if it were obvious must be a sign of wealth. My country was all the more disagreeable for having bookstores everywhere. I’d never thought about it that way.

As I took the receipt and said, “Stūtiyi”, which was “thank you” in Sinhala, the black-haired woman smiled, looked at my face and said in Japanese, “Thank you very much. We will be awaiting your return.”

“Amazing!”

“Thanks.”

And so, she told me that her husband had been working with sheet metal in Ibaraki, Japan, for a while. Her pronunciation of the words “Ibaraki” and “sheet metal” was really good. Apparently, her husband had started up a small company with the money he had earned as an immigrant worker and was its president.

With her waving a hand at me and telling me to be careful, I left the store.

Even though it was early spring, the sunlight in Colombo felt like that of midsummer in Japan. But I was growing quite fond of this glare. Everyone walking in the streets was wearing mid-sleeves, and if they were so inclined, beach sandals too, but the humidity wasn’t as high as in Japan, so I could think that, indeed, this was also spring. The white of the temple flowers blooming along the road was refreshing as well. They reminded me just a little bit of cherry blossoms. And from this street, I could clearly see my favorite landmark.

Colombo Tower, a tower that had the lotus flower as its motif.

It was a Tokyo Tower-like landmark, not visible from my base camp, the mountain town of Kandy, and although the shape was grandiose, it was still under construction and nobody could enter it. However, one day – I didn’t know whether that would be while I was still in Sri Lanka or after I had settled somewhere else, but – I definitely wanted to climb that. I would.

May I be a little more proficient in the language of this country than I am now by then, and if possible, may I get to have small talk in the tower.

With a modest goal and a new book, I treaded the way to Saul-san’s office.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation

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bbugyu · 4 years

Note

hi can i request a wonwoo friends to lovers!!

abso-fuckin-tutely! since you were a lil vague, i asked my friendly neighborhood wonwoorideul for a prompt and she shouted out the song nothing by bruno major (aka one of the sweetest songs on wonwoo's spotify playlist)!

nothing + jeon wonwoo

moving in with your best friend was the best idea you ever had, even if he claimed it was his.

wc.3707 | fluff, angst, roommates/friends to lovers au, gn reader, like one swear and it barely counts bc it was hoshi, slowburn pining, wonwoo sees you and his mind is full of poetry, happy ending! (jp ver.)

thank you so much for my very first request! i tried to post this quickly, so i’m sorry if it’s not as polished as my other pieces. i was so impatient to get this out hahah. i love me some domestic wonwoo

wonwoo wasn't just your roommate, to be perfectly frank. the lanky guy had wormed his way into your close circle when you had worked part time together at a grocery store fresh out of high school, and when you both decided you needed to be closer to the big city, it just made sense to go together. you had never lived alone before, and your mother had said she would feel better if you had someone she knew around, someone to take care of you for her, even though you insisted you would be fine. she tried to get you to move in with your auntie, and while eating her food would be a definite plus, you absolutely despised the idea of living under the same roof as your chaotic cousin. so, when wonwoo mentioned wanting to get out of your podunk village, you excitedly told him you wanted to move to seoul.

"okay," he had said, looking at you over his comic book as he lounged on your family's couch. "let's go, then."

two months later, his dad was helping the two of you move into a tiny two bedroom apartment in a neighborhood of seoul that housed mostly old married couples, but you liked that it was a little more quiet than downtown. it felt more like home, but busy enough to give you your fill of the city. you could walk down the street to a cafe every morning on your way to the station, headed to your shitty temp desk job that you had just to pay bills. wonwoo was able to transfer to the main seoul office of his existing job as a software engineer, and was even able to work from home most days. you were forever jealous that he could hop onto remote meetings wearing a tie and button up over a pair of sweats. on days that he had to go into the office, though, he would walk with you and point out shops that you had yet to visit in your few months of living in the city.

"since when are you a flowers kinda guy?" you asked, gaze following his finger to the florist shop he pointed out.

he shrugged, adjusting his backpack straps over the blazer he wore. "might be nice for the apartment."

you eyed him. despite knowing him for years, sometimes he still surprised you.

on days that he didn't ride the subway with you, you would come home to find him sitting on the couch, swinging around a digital new york city from a web on the tv. you noticed the potted plant on the kitchen counter when you dropped your keys off in their designated tray. they were red, with tight round petals. you thought they almost looked like roses, but you knew that wasn't right. peonies? begonias? you didn't know enough about flowers to recognize them, but you figured he went to the florist in your neighborhood while you were at work.

he paused his game after landing on a roof somewhere. "how was your day?"

"good," you said, pulling off your light jacket and standing by the couch. "what's with the flowers?"

wonwoo looked around you to the yellow ceramic and red blooms, both colors that suited the other few colorful items in your minimalistic (mostly from having only lived there a few short months) white kitchen. "camellias. i thought they looked nice."

you nodded, thinking that he had more to say, but decided not to press. "have you eaten?"

he stretched on the couch, hands falling to the back of his beanie clad head as he let out a strangled noise. "do i ever eat without you?"

that made you smile. "any thoughts on dinner?"

wonwoo shook his head, settling back into the couch. "what do you feel like?"

"i'm craving pizza."

wonwoo pushed his glasses up his nose and adjusted to fish his phone out of the pocket of his favorite track pants. "go take a shower, i'll order."

you grinned. "you are such a good roommate."

"correction, i'm the best roommate. oh, also," he pointed towards the fridge in the kitchen. "soonyoung came by with side dishes from your aunt."

"oh, thank god," you said, walking over to wash your hands quickly and check the haul. "i was worried we were gonna have to buy kimchi this week. he wasn't annoying, was he?"

wonwoo shook his head, chuckling at the way you talked about your cousin as he tapped through menus on his phone. "he was fine. complained that you weren't here."

"doesn't he have a job?" you opened a plastic container and popped a sweet braised potato into your mouth. your voice was muffled as you chewed. "he knows i get off at five. if he wants to see me he should come when he knows i'll be home."

the small smile on wonwoo's face never left as you rambled about soonyoung, then your fantastic chef of an aunt, and then the new guy that sat at the desk next to you that microwaved fish for lunch. seriously, who microwaves fish? in an office?

wonwoo commiserated with you, then told you to hurry and go wash up, because he had just submitted the pizza order, to which you responded "okay, okay, i'm going. i'll be back in a minute."

after a steam filled shower, you left the bathroom while toweling your damp hair, sporting a plain black v-neck with your, similar to wonwoo's, favorite track pants.

wonwoo looked up and laughed, tugging on the hem of his shirt. "we match."

you eyed one of the several black muscle tanks wonwoo sports regularly and giggled, pulling at the stripes down your pants. "we do. you want wine?"

"hell yeah. friday night, baby."

you laughed, returning to the bathroom to hang your towel before making your way to the kitchen, pulling a couple of stemless wine glasses out of your cabinet. they were the only glasses in the apartment because, as wonwoo had said, your priorities are notoriously bad. but, you reminded him, they worked just fine with water too, so you convinced him that buying real glasses could wait until you were both slightly less busy. you grabbed the bottle of red wine off the counter and looked at the seal. "wonwoo."

"yeah?" he paused his game and looked at you over the small kitchen cart that acted as an island. you held up the wine.

"new bottle."

he sighed dramatically. "what would you do without me?"

you grinned happily as you got the wine opener out of a drawer, holding it out for him. he snatched the bottle and opener from your hands and made a face, but began twisting the corkscrew into the cork nonetheless. you planted your elbow on the wood topped cart and watched him as he tugged out the cork, decidedly ignoring the fact that he was wearing a sleeveless shirt and he definitely looked like he had taken a trip to the gym today.

"you pour, i always miss."

you laughed, pulling at the shrapnel of the seal that wonwoo always refused to cut away before removing the cork. "maybe if you didn't make the neck such a mess it wouldn't go everywhere when we pour it."

"unnecessary step," he retorted, watching you as you poured the wine into the two glasses. he took the one closest to him as you finished. "cheers."

"cheers," you repeated, clinking your glass against his and taking a gulp. you let out a noise of approval. "happy friday."

wonwoo was smiling as he took a sip. "happy friday."

"where's the pizza?"

"uh," he patted his empty pockets, then put down his wine glass to retrieve his phone from the couch. "down the street."

wonwoo had to shove his feet into a pair of slides to meet the delivery person at the entrance of your building, and when he returned, you were giggling into your glass at your sns feed. the wine hit maybe a little too hard, but you hadn't eaten in too long for you to have almost polished off a glass already.

wonwoo gestured for you to join him on the couch, so you grabbed the bottle of wine and tucked it under your arm, carrying the two glasses over to where he was shutting off his game.

you ate merrily, and then you talked. about nothing and everything all at the same time. this happened more often than you ever thought it would, but a week into living in the city, wonwoo had come home from hanging out with some old friends to you crying on the couch with a show on that was far too comical to be the source of your tears. that night, he stayed up with you until the sun was peeking up over the buildings, listening to your worries and struggles. he shared his own fears. you were a blubbering mess. he kept sniffling his nose, acting like the tears welling up in his eyes weren't there when you laughed, despite yourself. wonwoo and you had always been close, or as close as past coworkers that had the same friend circle could be, but this was different. you couldn't remember the last time you had cried like that in front of anyone, much less someone who wasn't your mother.

when you woke up on the couch past noon, your sunday to a late start, your arms were wrapped around wonwoo's torso as he slept, one hand tucked behind his head and the other on your back. his face was inches from yours. your cheeks were pink and you suddenly felt hot, trying as gently as you could to escape without waking him. he stirred, but only to readjust as you snuck away.

he said nothing about the cuddling when he woke to the sound of you closing the front door, and you smiled as you held out the iced americano you got him at the cafe down the street. he squinted at you and scratched his head, taking the drink and sipping it before even testing his voice.

"thanks."

he looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. "what? you bought coffee. thank you."

you sat next to him and swirling the straw in your own drink. "no, i mean for staying up with me. sorry i was a mess."

there was a pause, and your heart almost stopped when he put an arm over your shoulder. "you weren't. and i'll stay up with you whenever you want."

wonwoo sipped at his drink again, giving you a light squeeze when a tear fell down your cheek.

living together meant you saw a side of him you had never seen before. the little things he did throughout his day, when he wasn't even particularly conscious that you were in the same room as him. he always bit at his thumb when he was working, and he had a habit of leaving the milk carton open in the fridge. he always made you smile when he emerged from his room with his headphones loud enough for you to hear them from across the room, and he cluelessly bobbed his head to whatever he was listening to while he refilled a water bottle, waving and smiling before he returned to his room. when your mom asked you how living with wonwoo was, you told her he was great. clean, respectful, and quiet. that you had never been closer. that he made you feel safer so far from home. you didn't, however, tell her that you discovered that he liked running home from the gym at 2 pm on the weekends, laying out on the floor with his shirt over his head before he convinced himself to take a shower.

you had always thought wonwoo was cute. how could you not? he was a handsome guy, but you had accepted your place as a friend to him and happily let it progress no further. but, now that you spent your afternoons off arguing with him on whether or not showering was even worth the trouble, you couldn't help but stare at him. watching his toned chest rise and fall as you thought about how he had admitted his crippling fear of failure to you at three in the morning when your face was puffier than a padded jacket.

you never noticed, but wonwoo watched you closer than he did anything in his life. that night, when he found you crying, he felt his heart clench as you told him all your insecurities. when he had pulled you into his chest and held you tight as you questioned whether moving so far from home was a mistake, he patted your hair and told you that it was going to be fine. you had him, afterall. he had you. the two of you could make it out here. and if you still wanted to go home when the lease was up in six months, he would be there to help you move back.

he didn't stop holding you until your breathing settled, your shoulders stopped shaking. he leaned back into the couch, bringing you with him, and you didn't protest when he ran his hand up and down your back, coaxing you to sleep.

since then, every time you spoke to him, he couldn't help but stare at you intently. he watched your eyes light up while you talked about something you loved. he watched you scrunch your nose as you talked about your new desk neighbor. he watched your lips push into a pout when he said he should go get some work done. he wondered if anyone else noticed the way you sucked on your teeth while you thought up a witty comeback, or the way you carded your fingers through your still wet hair. or the way your eyes creased into a laugh, your hand coming up to block your open mouth. or the way you chewed on your red wine stained lip while he tried to form a sentence in response, when all he wanted to do was put those lips on his.

wonwoo had been stewing with these feelings far longer than he thought bearable, but stuffed it down in fear that he might lose you altogether. he didn't want to lose you altogether. he had gone on a walk halfway through his workday at home, feeling antsy for no particular reason, though if he thought about it long enough he would have realised it was because you had said something about feeling lonely lately that morning. he saw the florist he had pointed out the week before, and his feet brought him through the door.

"hi!" he looked up from the colorful display by the door to the person behind the counter and smiled politely. "did you need help finding something?"

"um," wonwoo blinked and looked around for a moment, then moved towards the counter. "i need a gift, i think."

the florist's eyebrows quirked curiously. "you think?"

he nodded, eyes flicking down to the nametag on his chest. he wondered if he was a foreigner with his three character name, but didn't mention it. "yeah. housewarming. for my, uh-" wonwoo paused, catching himself not knowing how to describe his relationship to you. roommate? wannabe lover? he bit his cheek. "my friend."

joshua nodded slowly, watching wonwoo's eyes as he worked his way through the sentence. "just friend?"

wonwoo stared at a flower arrangement to his right. "something like that."

"got it." joshua walked around the counter and gestured for wonwoo to follow him deeper into the store. "since it's a housewarming, how about a potted plant? something to brighten up the space for a long time. they'll think about you every time they see it."

wonwoo nodded, not saying anything about how funny he thought it was that he said he was getting his own roommate a housewarming gift. "that sounds nice."

"now, i'm not gonna claim to know you," the florist started, putting up his hands to exaggerate his words, they kept moving as he pushed and pulled pots, looking for one in particular. "you've said, like, maybe a full sentence to me, but those were some complex emotions when you called them a friend, so i'm gonna assume i know the situation. i think you should get camellias. specifically red ones."

wonwoo looked at the sunshine yellow pot in the soft featured man's hands. the petals of the flower were round and delicate, and he thought about how you said the color yellow made you happy. "why's that?"

"i think you should look up the meaning when you give them this," joshua said, and for some reason, wonwoo trusted him.

he came back to the apartment thinking about how he might have just gotten scammed into buying the potted flowers in his hands, only to find soonyoung about to hit the buzzer to call your unit, a far too large cooler bag sitting on the bench by the entrance of your building.

"is y/n around?" soonyoung asked, trailing behind wonwoo as they walked up the stairs, struggling slightly with the overpacked bag. "they didn't respond to my kakao."

"they're at work," he replied, flipping his keys over in his hands to find the one for your front door. "they'll be home around six."

"ah, shit," soonyoung laughed. "i always forget you guys have adult jobs. i would kill for a monday through friday."

wonwoo almost laughed, but left the smile on his face. "weekends are kind of overrated, anyways."

the shorter hoisted the bag of dishes onto the kitchen cart while wonwoo closed the door. "who're the flowers for?"

wonwoo stared at the pot in his arm as if it was the first time he had seen it. "oh, uh. just the place."

"for y/n?"

he looked at soonyoung, who had his chin in his palms, elbows planted on the counter as he smiled. he knew he was right when wonwoo didn't respond.

"i think they'll like them," he said, unzipping the top of the bag and starting to unload his mother's packaged dishes for his cousin. "they like the color yellow."

wonwoo just said "i know," before he opened the fridge and started rearranging things to fit the new food.

according to soonyoung, wonwoo was painfully obvious. when he had come by a couple weeks prior, you were arguing with him about some ridiculous childhood memory at your grandparents' home, and while soonyoung laughed, he noticed the smile on wonwoo's face when he watched you. he also noticed the way he instinctively put a hand on your back when you sighed about your newest temp gig, and soonyoung pulled on his ear as he looked at the ceiling, leaning against the kitchen cart much like he was today as he told wonwoo about how oblivious his cousin must be.

you pulled your knees to your chest as you sipped at your wine, the pizza box almost completely polished off by the two of you sitting on the floor in front of your couch. you stare at the pot of flowers.

"they're pretty," you said finally.

you too, wonwoo thought.

"camellias, right?" you turned back to him. "i like them."

i like you, wonwoo thought. "i went to that place down the street. the guy working was nice."

you nodded, sipping again. "any reason in particular?"

"i-" wonwoo paused, staring at his glass. he finished the last gulp in it and put it on the floor next to the pizza box. "you said something about being down recently," he said, folding his fingers together as he leaned back against the couch. "i wanted to get you something, i guess."

you watched his fingers as they pushed his glasses up his nose again, and your heart fluttered at the idea of wonwoo thinking about you when you weren't around. "really? that's so nice," you pouted, shoving his knee.

he laughed, pulling his knee onto the couch to face you. "the guy there - the florist, i guess? his name was joshua. he seemed to really know flowers." he knitted his brows together when he realized he was procrastinating on saying what he was nervous to. he put his arm on the back of the couch, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm before continuing. "he said i should look up what they mean when i give them to you. red ones, specifically."

you perked up, heart racing. "what they mean? they have meaning?"

"y-yeah, i guess so," wonwoo said, then cleared his throat.

"hey google!" you looked over to where the device sat by your tv. "what to red camellias mean?"

wonwoo stared at your profile as you watched the device think before its automated voice piped up.

"camellia flowers are available in white, pink, and red, with each color having its own unique symbolism."

you looked over to him, excitedly putting your glass to your lips as the voice continued.

"pink camellias symbolize a longing for someone, and is given to people who are missed."

wonwoo swallowed hard, fingers fidgeting against his temple.

"red camellias symbolize love, passion, and a deep desire."

your eyes widened slightly as the device shut off, glass still to your lips and eyes still on wonwoo's. he stared back at you, and you wondered if he meant it. but he never claimed that he didn't feel those things for you.

before you could think, you clumsily put your glass on the floor and moved. you didn't stop moving until your lips were on wonwoo's, pushing him back into the arm of the couch as you practically crawled into his lap.

his hands found your hips and he helped you settle into him, your fingers tracing his jawline as it worked against yours. you sighed into his lips as his hand slid up under your shirt, placed gently on the small of your back. pulling you into him. when you paused for a moment, you thought about waking up to this exact same view, that day after you had cried all night. but this time, his other hand pulled your jaw back to kiss him again, and you happily complied.

#YAAAA #thank you so much for requesting i owe you my life #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #jeon wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #yoonpancake #requested #i wrote dis #do i have a wonu tag yet #sure dont #wonton

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tornrose24 · 4 years

Note

numba 3 with Cap U and Edith. You knew this was coming, we all knew, and as soon as the other CU tumblrists reblog this, I'mma bout to throw eggcasserole right in their direction!

Sure thing! And I had this idea in my head before, so it works for this one.

prompt 3-one s/o hugs someone and the other buries their head into their neck.

Edith’s Bad Day (CU Egg Casserole prompt)

------

Despite being the nicest of Jerome Horowitz Elementary School’s staff, even Edith had days where she wanted to lash out. She was better at keeping it in than most, but today pushed her.

First was the fact that it was one of those days. As in the dreaded day of the month for all women. A day where she knew she was going to be physically exhausted and just want to curl up on her couch and watch TV instead. She had to force herself to get up and walk out the door, but ended up being a few minutes off from when she’d normally be ready.

Moments later she realized she accidentally set her alarm to half an hour later than when she’d normally wake up. It took every part of her to not be as terrible of a driver as Benjamin was in a rush to get somewhere and speed towards the school.

Then on the way to school, there was unexpected roadwork that forced all the cars to slow down and wait their turns before they could drive on ahead. Of course her usual route would take longer than the longer route to work this time.

When she finally made it out, there was another unexpected road block in the form of a stampede of goats. She stopped the car in the nick of time and could only stare in shock as they ran across from her and many others. Why goats? Who honestly knew?

She ended up being almost a whole hour late for work.

Edith went straight to the cafeteria, but found out that she was missing a few ingredients for today’s meatloaf special and side of mashed potatoes. She completely forgot until now that she meant to solve this issue after school yesterday. She groaned and searched for substitute ingredients, knowing full well that the meatloaf would end up tasteless and that the mashed potatoes might as well be paste to the kids. It’d likely put her on the list of George and Harold’s pranking targets.

In fact, she was missing quite a few other ingredients. She’d need to swing by an emergency grocery store after school to get some before tomorrow.

She spent what felt like an awfully long time getting everything ready and all the while she just wanted to sit down, nap, and drink some badly needed tea. At one point one of the teachers came in on their break to complain about something and she barely listened and mentally screamed ‘JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!’

Then she remembered–didn’t the boys recently do another Captain Underpants comic?

Oh God.... please not today. Any day but today.

When she served lunch, she ignored the students dismay at how bland lunch was. Some students shot her a concerned look when they saw her exhausted face, but she forced a smile and wave. All the while she just wanted to sit down–every second of serving food while standing was agonizing for her. Only the promise of an hour on the couch and scarfing down homemade brownies while watching TV kept her from collapsing.

She almost didn’t hear the weird growls until she heard the children screaming. She looked up to see an abomination of leftover food–mostly meatloaf and mashed potatoes–bursting from the doors to the hallway. It screamed at the children as they ran out to the safety of the school yard or else ran to the hallway when the monster reached the center of the cafeteria.

Edith remembered now–the monster of the recent comic book was the Left-over-nator–a monster created from leftover food the kids would throw away. If she had to take a guess, something got mixed in with thrown away food in a classroom and now the monster was here to absorb the most leftovers it could find into its body and grow stronger.

She held her head in her hands and growled as the kids ran out of the cafeteria. She was not in the mood for this and sank to the floor where she sat. Any moment Captain Underpants and the boys would show up and she’d use this as an excuse to sit down and do nothing. Yet minutes ticked by as the monster absorbed every abandoned food it could find to gain more power and it was getting closer to her.

“There it is!” She heard George yell as he and the others entered the cafeteria. She didn’t even bother to get up to watch the fight, but she could hear just enough to know that the cafeteria was due for a cleanup. Which she did not want to do today. In fact, the sounds were only making her more frazzled.

It was when the monster loomed over the counter and screamed right in her face with his horrible breath that she couldn’t take it anymore. She took a pan and screamed right back before she began to beat the tar out of it.

“STOP MESSING UP THE CAFETERIA!” She screamed as she hit it over and over again. It was a lot smaller than when she last seen it–several of its body mass was splattered everywhere. The Left-over-nator tried to back away from her, but tripped and somehow landed in a trashcan.

She barely noticed when Captain Underpants took the trashcan and hurled it out one of the open doors. She swore she could hear those accursed goats outside, and in better circumstances, would watch to see them finish off the monster. She didn’t notice George and Harold nervously observing her in her rare moment of anger (and likely ensuring that any future pranks should not create a similar reaction if they valued the trust of one of the very few adults they respected).

Edith looked around at the damage–it was like another food fight on a scale of world war happened in her. She couldn’t even bring herself to find an ounce of willpower to start.... well, anything.

“Thank you for your assistance, Miss Edith!” Captain Underpants approached her with a cheerful smile and waved, despite a bruise or two.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

“I just want to go home!” She wailed. “I just want to lay down take a nap! I don’t want to clean this mess up!” She was almost on the verge of frustrated tears over the disaster of a day as she held her face in her hands.

It caught the superhero off guard. He was happy to have help, but he had no clue as to why Edith was acting so distressed. “Uh... do you need a hug first?” He asked, to which she nodded. Wordlessly he wrapped his arms around her and she buried her head into his neck. She hugged him right back as he asked “Is there anything else I can do to assist you? Perhaps clean the hard to reach spots for you?”

She couldn’t trust Captain Underpants to avoid making more of a mess, but she deeply appreciated it and was already thinking of how to pay him back at the same time.

George and Harold awkwardly looked away and examine the damage. “You know... maybe it actually is a good thing our latest punishment is helping with cleaning up the cafeteria.” Harold began.

“Yeah, it probably is.” George agreed before he and Harold went off to look for mops. It wasn’t much to make Edith’s day turn around, but it was a start.

----

And then Edith got to rest when the day was over. ^_^

#captain underpants #egg casserole #edith the lunch lady #writing prompt #I imagine she has off days too

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

Bloodstone | Part 10 (Final)

Summary: You knew all about the ring your grandmother had told you about and yet when the stone fell from it one fateful day, you weren’t truly prepared for its return, nor who it came back with.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

Genre: fantasy / romance

Warnings: grief over loss, cursing

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

You knew Namjoon was gone before you opened your eyes. The foreboding feeling made you clamp your eyelids together instead, refusing to face reality just yet.

Although you had been concerned with how you would cope without Namjoon in your world, as you laid as still as you could possess, your mind ran towards thoughts of his safety. Was he alive? Did he find himself in a place he was familiar with? Was he trapped in another dimension?

Blindly searching for signs of his disappearance, you gasped when something sharp pierced your skin, snapping your eyes open. There, embedded into your finger and allowing the crimson blood to trickle from the wound was a shard of crystal.

Your emotions flooded you then. Collecting up the pieces of the shattered stone, you rocked back and forth, clutching them to your chest. You wailed out in pain for your loss. You screamed to the heavens in anger. You silently allowed the emotions to fall from your eyes, feeling numb from the whole experience.

Eventually, you lost consciousness.

“Y/N? Y/N!” a voice called out and groggily you peered through an eyelid, a panic-stricken Yoongi appearing before you.

So, it wasn’t all a horrible dream after all.

“Are you okay?”

Holding out your hand to show Yoongi the shattered state of the stone and your heart, you blinked when your palm came up empty. Sitting up hurriedly and looking around yourself, you found your space void of any signs of Namjoon and the stone.

Yoongi sighed. “It’s probably whole again.”

“Bastard rock.”

“It’s been three days since I saw you. I don’t know why I didn’t come sooner. I just felt this strong urge to come and check on you. It was almost as if Namjoon infiltrated my mind. Sounds really crazy, doesn’t it?”

You attempted to laugh hollowly. “Yoongi, hasn’t everything we’ve experienced for the last few weeks been unreal?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“I’m glad you remember him,” you admitted in a small voice, swallowing down the growing lump in your throat. “I was worried life would return to before he arrived here and I’d go insane being the only one with the knowledge that he existed.”

With time, life did recover some normalcy. After mourning for another week, you managed to pull yourself up every morning, consume a mug of coffee to help battle with the fatigue you were experiencing and returned to your job. You ate the same foods you had with Namjoon, and with some time, you began to smile with the fond memory as opposed to tearfully choking the spoonfuls down. You did the things you wanted to with Namjoon one by one, hoping that ticking them off your list honoured his short and tumultuous stay in your world. You kept a journal, but unlike the one Eliza had avidly written with Namwoo at her side, you chose to document the things you did without Namjoon. It held you accountable for keeping to your promise.

It was hard to live without Namjoon, but you were determined to do so.

Still, nights were the worst. You still dreamed of him. His touch felt real within your slumber, the sensual sighs and whispered love confessions lingering even after you became alert. It was difficult to grapple with what was real and a faint memory when you opened your eyes for the first time each morning. Swallowing down the disappointment when you realised your bed was cold and empty of his presence grew harder the longer he was away.

You had endured six months without the man who had turned your world upside down with mere weeks together.

Strangely, the ring had also gone missing. When the stone had left it just a silver shell that you had placed within the drawer of your bedside table. After several weeks of recovering from Namjoon’s disappearance, you had opened the drawer to look at the ring. Even after emptying all the contents onto your bed, it had eluded you. You had searched your entire home upside down for it, even going as far as to check at the comic store as well.

The ring had gone just like Namjoon had.

“What do you want to do with all of this?” Yoongi asked when you visited him again, pointing to the stack of books. You eyed them curiously until you realised what they were. Thinking back to the day he had walked out of your apartment carrying them all, you sighed heavily. You had been so optimistic that Yoongi would find an answer in them.

And he had. It was just not one you had hoped for.

Grinning, you shrugged. “Should we burn them?”

“You want to close that chapter of your life for good?” Yoongi wondered and you shook your head. “I didn’t think so. Why be so dramatic in answer then?”

“Weren’t you the one who claimed this was all sounding a bit like Lord of the Rings? Doesn’t Frodo throw the ring into the fires of Mordor?”

“You don’t have the ring anymore to throw out even if you could.”

“No, the ring left its owner. I hope it’s not harassing another poor soul with the idea of love. It needs to be destroyed for good.”

“Perhaps Namjoon took it with him.”

“I strangely miss it,” you murmured, looking at your finger. Despite not wearing it for some time, the indent it had made upon your skin remained. It made you shiver, feeling a sense of emptiness.

Distracting yourself from the depressing concept, you reached for the stack of books, dragging them towards yourself and off the countertop. Yoongi appeared at your side, gauging if you needed his help to balance them. After rearranging the bunch a little, you shot him a satisfied smile. “I’ll take them back home. I’m sure they’ll find their places upon the bookshelves again.”

“Having them back might help with more closure to the situation,” Yoongi offered and you shared a hopeful smile before heading out into the bright afternoon.

Once home, you struggled down the hallway to your final destination, guiding the bottom book up onto your desk. Relieved to let go of the weight, you wiped at your perspired brow and removed a layer of your clothing, staring at the stack of ancient texts dejectedly.

“Why did I bring you all back here?” you asked yourself before reaching for the book on the top, taking it over to the bookshelves upon the wall and finding it a place. You repeated this task until all of them were house away neatly.

“Dinner,” you mentioned when your stomach began to grumble. After making yourself a bowl of ramen, you returned to the study to spend some time on your computer. It was about an hour into your online perusing that you heard a thud behind you from the shelf. Spinning around in the computer chair, you noticed a book had fallen to the floor. Getting up to retrieve it, you stopped when you realised what book it was.

It was the one that held the information about the ring. Gulping as the hairs stood up on your arms, you gingerly reached out for it, picking it up and cradling its spine. “You belong on the shelf now.”

Hesitating to place it back, you instead found yourself flipping through the book, ending up on the page that had changed your world all those months ago. Fingering the ancient ink gently, you winced at the pain forming in your chest and shook your head. “It’s too early for me to contemplate this fondly.”

Placing the book back on the shelf, you turned around, stopping a second time when your gaze caught something on the floor reflecting under the lights. Stooping down to retrieve it, you couldn’t believe it.

“You weren’t here before, now were you?” you asked of the ring, rapidly looking around the room.

“No, but nor was I,” a voice mentioned with a hint of amusement and you stopped searching when your eyes landed on the purple-haired man in the doorway. Namjoon smiled and nodded as if to answer your disbelief. “I’m back, Y/N.”

It had appeared again.

This time, however, the stone hadn’t arrived alone before him. It was firmly embedded in the silver that you had once shown him and after staring at it for some time, Namjoon boldly reached out to pick it up.

After everything he had gone through because of this stone, he was no longer scared, if anything, he hoped its arrival meant something would happen to take him back to you.

It wasn’t hard to fall back into routine at home. Marian had during his disappearance turned to the local farmer’s son for support and now that Namjoon was back, he hardly saw the girl. It came as no surprise to him when she came home proclaiming she would marry Jungkook. And once she was married, the house felt fuller than before.

Namjoon yearned to leave again. He was satisfied his sister would have someone to cherish her for always. Admittedly, their shy love for one another only made him crave you. His heart ached more often than not and so to avoid their newlywed bliss, Namjoon spent from dawn to dusk working in the gem studio. But even they didn’t amaze him as much as before either.

The ring appearing whole certainly piqued his interest though. “Are you here to take me home?”

Inspecting it up close, he noticed it no longer glowed. The stone was no longer red even. It was golden, affectionate and inviting. It felt warm and fluttered when he closed his palm around it. He smiled, letting out a laugh soon after. Holding the ring made him feel connected to you again as if he was close enough to reach out for your world and dive back into it.

Closing his eyes, he found the warmth in his palm turning scorching hot, letting it go instantly. Hearing the ring clatter to the ground, Namjoon opened his eyes and looked around himself.

“Where did you go?” he wondered, dropping onto his hands and knees on the floor, searching under the desk for the ring. Crawling through the gap to the opposite side, he frowned when his hand touched something fluffy and soft. Blinking rapidly, he gripped onto the fibres before leaping to his feet and wildly glancing around himself.

“I’m not dreaming right?” he murmured, feeling all over his body for any telltale signs. And then he grinned, staring at all your homely clutter. He hadn’t realised he had missed it all until he soaked them in with his stunned focus, even dropping onto the couch to hug it. “I’m home!”

It was then that he realised he hadn’t found the ring yet. Going along the hallway, Namjoon’s breath halted when he saw the light on in the study.

Hearing you talk to the books made his chest swell and he stopped just before the door, listening on for some time. It seemed you found the ring that had granted him passage back here and after listening to you a moment longer, Namjoon stepped forward, finally catching your gaze.

“You’re real?” you asked after he told you he was back and Namjoon merely opened his arms, waiting for your impact.

Dashing across the room to enter his waiting embrace, he held you tightly to his chest once you collided against it. “I’m back. This time for good.”

“How do you know?” you wondered, looking up at him earnestly.

Namjoon reached for the ring you had in your grip and held it up. “It brought me back here. And look, it’s no longer the stone of blood.”

Inspecting the golden colour, you then glanced at the book and paled. “It’s something else now?”

“Maybe for this lifetime it’s just happy to finally succeed in bringing two lovers together.”

“I don’t trust it just yet but if it brought you back to me, then that’s something.”

Laughing, Namjoon placed it upon your finger. It glowed once before it settled completely. You eyed him suspiciously and Namjoon shrugged.

“I expect a proper proposal when the time comes.”

“You know I’ve had a long time to piece one together during my wait to see you again.”

“You know what else I’ve had a long time to think over?” you asked and Namjoon waited for you to continue. “What it truly feels like to have you kiss me once again.”

Leaning down to meet you midway, love blindly led you both into a realm of passion and reconnection during the embrace. He felt his heart soar and then collide into yours, firmly embedding itself there much as the stone had into his chest once. This time though, he knew there was nothing that could shatter this bond.

You were his truest love.

_________________

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theforsakenprince · 4 years

Text

One Cannot be Brave (Who has no Fear)

Chapter 2

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Summary: Virgil has hated the Renegades all his life, ever since they had failed to save his family. He’s made it his mission to take down the Renegades, and he’ll do anything to achieve his goal-even become one of them and tear them apart from the inside.

Based on Renegades by Marissa Meyer.

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety, platonic Intruality

Words: 2145

Warnings: knives, blood, (let me know if I need to tag anything!

Virgil slung his bag over his shoulder and started his climb up the building. He climbed past the first six stories before pulling himself onto the roof of the building. He dropped into a crouch, rummaging through his bag, pulling out the suit Janus had helped make. He slung his tool belt around his waist, where it hung comfortably. It was outfitted with specially crafted pockets and hooks where he could store his favorite inventions. Next, he pulled on his jacket- both waterproof and flame proof. He zipped it up to his neck and pulled up his hood, overshadowing his eyes. The mask came last. It was a hard, metallic shell that covered the lower half of his face.

Then, he stooped low and pulled out the rifle and single poisoned dart from his bag.

“Where are you, Nightmare?” Phobia rasped.

“I’m almost in position,” Virgil replied, walking over to the edge of the roof. The noises of the celebration below weren’t as loud up here, and for that he was grateful. The street was a mess of parade floats, confetti, and people.

Virgil loaded the dart into the gun’s chamber.

Ingrid was the one to come up with the simple plan. When she’d told the group, Winston had complained about not being included, but Phobia pointed out that Winston, who most people knew as the Puppeteer, wasn’t capable of keeping anything simple.

So it was only the three of them on the field. Virgil had one dart crafted by Leroy Flinn, their poisons specialist. Leroy had offered to make him more, but he declined. He only needed one to finish the job. If he missed, he wouldn’t get a second chance.

But he wouldn’t miss. He was going to kill the Captain.

Once he was hit, Ingrid the Detonator would emerge and hit the Council’s float with her signature explosives. Phobia would focus on Thunderbird. As the only member of the Council that could fly, she would have an unfair advantage. There were rumors that she was deathly afraid of snakes, and Phobia specialized in fears. Best case scenario, he’d give her a heart attack midair.

And that was it- the Council, the five original Renegades- all eradicated at once.

And it all started with Virgil getting past Captain Chromium’s invincibility.

“Nightmare, you in position?”

“I’m here, Detonator. Relax.”

“You have 45 seconds to make the shot,” Phobia informed him.

“Cutting it a bit close, don’t you think?” Ingrid said.

Virgil took out his rifle and looked through the scope. Though he couldn’t see the Council’s float yet, he could tell by the excited cheers that it was close.

“Well done, Nightmare,” the Detonator said.

“He hasn’t done anything yet,” Phobia replied.

“Yeah, but isn’t it nice to have a shooter on the team again?”

“Would you two zip it?” Virgil grumbled, looking through the scope again. Below, the Council’s float moved into view. It was an enormous tiered structure that made him think The Council thought they were gods.

Scratch that. They definitely thought they were gods.

Tamaya Rae- or as the rest of the world knew her, Thunderbird- stood on the first pedestal, her black wings almost spanning the width of the float. She occasionally sent bolts of lightning to further ignite the storm clouds at her feet.

Blacklight was on the second tier, shooting fireworks from his fingertips. With his red beard and curly mustache, Virgil had always thought Evander Wade looked more like a mustache twirling villain than a superhero.

Next was Kasumi Hasegawa. She stood, barely moving with her arms extended, manipulating the fish filled water that surrounded her.

The fourth pedestal appeared to be empty at first glance, which meant that Simon Westwood was standing there. Sure enough, The Dread Warden flickered into view. A second later, he went invisible again, and the crowd roared in wonder as he reappeared not on his own pedestal, but on the fifth and tallest platform, Captain Chromium’s.

Captain Chromium rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the Dread Warden. They shared a look that was disgustingly endearing. Virgil resisted the urge to gag.

Virgil eased himself into position, calculating the angle and distance.

The Dread Warden disappeared and reappeared again on his own platform, leaving Captain Chromium alone on the top pedestal.

As the crowd’s cheering grew louder, he reached for a display stand at his side. His hands wrapped around a long metal pike, lifting it overhead. His smile never wavered the entire time.

Virgil’s heart stopped.

“Is that…?”

“Don’t dwell on it,” Phobia hissed.

“Don’t dwell on what?” Ingrid asked.

Virgil was unable to respond.

Captain Chromium, the beloved superhero, had Ace Anarchy’s helmet skewered at the top of the pike.

Ingrid’s voice came through the headset again, understanding as the float passed into her view. “Oh…” Virgil barely heard her. He was too busy grinding his teeth until his jaw hurt.

He was six years old again, afraid. Devastated. Staring up into those eyes behind the helmet.

The Renegades had not come. But he had. Maybe not soon enough to save his family, but still, he had come.

That was more than the Renegades could say, anyway.

“You’re dwelling,” Phobia said, not an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

Virgil growled. “Am not.”

“It’s alright, Nightmare,” Ingrid said. “We’re doing this for Ace, aren’t we? Use that anger. Avenge him.”

Virgil took a deep breath. He looked through the scope, lining up the sights.

It had to be the eye. Anywhere else, and it would just bounce off his impenetrable skin.

His aim had to be perfect.

And it would be.

The Street below began to fall silent, drowned out by the roaring in his ears. The

Captain’s blue eye came into focus.

“Pull the trigger,” He whispered. He curled his finger over the trigger.

The Council may have been getting older, but they still held all the power.

“Pull the trigger, Virgil.”

This was the best opportunity to take down the entire Renegade Council.

All he had to do was pull the trigger.

A bug flew into his vision. He waved it away, irritated.

He found his target again. The Captain turned slightly toward him.

Virgil started to squeeze the trigger when something landed on the end of his rifle. He lifted his eyes to see a crow staring back at him.

He lifted his gaze to the sky, where a murder of crows hovered. Dozens of wings flapped as the crows stared at him with their black, beady eyes.

He sighed. “We’ve got company.”

“What is it? The Renegades?”

He didn’t answer. The float was turning. Five seconds left, at most.

Virgil looked through the sights and found the Captain’s eye again.

Captain Chromium lifted his eyes, almost looking directly at him.

He pulled the trigger.

To his dismay, the Captain turned slightly, and the dart struck his temple. The needle tip snapped off.

Captain Chromium jerked to attention, scanning the rooftops. He alerted the others, and they began looking too.

“Shit,” he muttered as he ducked behind the ledge.

Suddenly, one of the crows snatched the rifle out of his hands, squawking. He leapt to his feet and whirled around.

The crows converged into the form of a pale teenage boy with glasses. He gripped the rifle as he glared at Virgil. He wore the Renegade uniform- a form-fitting outfit that went from his neck down to his boots. A red R was emblazoned on his chest.

A small black cat clambered onto the roof before shifting into another teenage boy. He was also wearing the Renegade uniform. His hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days.

Virgil growled. Crow and Copycat.

Virgil had met them once before, when he had tried to steal from a pharmacy for supplies, but there had been more of them.

He raised an eyebrow. “Where are the rest of you? Watching the parade?”

As soon as he had said it, the utility elevator dinged, and a third Renegade walked out- a boy with light brown skin and dark hair. He walked with a limp and a cane. Faint tendrils of smoke followed him in his wake.

Smokescreen.

Virgil smirked. “That’s more like it.”

Ingrid’s voice crackled in his voice. “Nightmare, what’s going on over there?”

Virgil ignored her.

“Nightmare,” Smokescreen said, adjusting his glasses. “Long time no see.”

Without replying, he reached for his belt and drew out two throwing stars, throwing them at Copycat and Crow. Copycat dodged. Crow dissolved into a flock of birds.

A bolt of black smoke struck Virgil in the face. He stumbled back, snarling.

“Nightmare, what is going on?” Ingrid asked again. Virgil snarled and turned the transmitter off.

He shook his head to clear the smoke, but only succeeded in making his eyes burn. He forced them open anyway, only catching a glimpse of a streak of black before Crow was right in front of him. He grunted as Crow elbowed him in the stomach and he fell to the ground. He rolled out of the way of another attack from Copycat and jumped to his feet, ignoring the pain in his gut and the tears that blurred his vision.

Something hooked beneath his chin, pulling against his throat- Smokescreen’s cane. He yanked him backward, grabbing his arm as soon as Virgil was close enough.

“Your days of villainy are over, Nightmare,” Smokescreen said.

Virgil fought a snicker. “You sound like you’ve read too many comic books.”

“Is that really a bad thing?”

Virgil felt around for his hands on either side of the cane, but found no exposed skin.

Smokescreen’s grip tightened. “Are you working alone?”

In front of him, Copycat picked up the two throwing stars he had flung and, after inspecting each very carefully, crushed them under his boots.

Virgil scowled.

Crow formed again, glaring down at him. “I believe you were asked a question.”

Ignoring Crow, Virgil grabbed Smokescreen’s cane and kicked back, Wrenching the cane away. Smokescreen landed on his back with a grunt.

Virgil struck the back of Crow’s knees with the cane before discarding it in favor of another throwing star. Before he could throw it, however, Copycat shifted into a large dog and tackled him to the ground. He rested a paw on Virgil’s throat with just enough pressure for it to hurt.

“Who,” Copycat said, lips pulled back in a snarl, “are you working for?”

Virgil smiled slowly. He couldn’t resist a good play on words. “Your worst Nightmare.” he put a hand on Copycat’s furry leg and let his power flow through him. Copycat slowly shifted back into human form and fell to the ground beside him, unconscious.

A wave of mist suddenly rolled across the rooftop. Virgil huffed in frustration as he scanned the rooftop for Smokescreen, but the mist was too thick to see. He unhooked a dagger from his belt, gripping it tightly.

He spotted a dark shape- his duffel bag. He dove toward it and picked it up.

Crow suddenly appeared out of the mist, a fist aimed for his head. Virgil ducked and stabbed upward, but he dissolved into a flock of crows just as the knife met flesh.

The smoke began to clear, and Virgil spotted his escape route- The rooftop next to him with a ladder that went back down to street level.

“Crow!” Smokescreen shouted.

Virgil paused long enough to see Crow back in human form, pressing a hand to his side. His gray suit was dark with blood.

Turning back to the other building, Virgil took a slight step back before leaping the gap. He landed on his stomach and he laid there for a second, catching his breath.

He quickly got to his feet and started to run to the far side of the roof when a large figure jumped up from the street below. They landed in front of him with a clang.

Rather than the gray bodysuit the Renegades wore, the stranger was dressed in something better described as armor. Metal plates covered his body, and his face was masked by a helmet and black visor. The Renegade R was emblazoned on their chest, but it didn’t look like any Renegade suit Virgil had seen. Perhaps a new model?

Though he couldn’t see their eyes, he could feel them staring at him as he took a step back.

“Can’t say I’ve seen you before,” Virgil said.

They tilted their head. “I’ve been around long enough to know who you are, Nightmare.” their voice was definitely male.

Virgil’s fingers skimmed his belt, but he wasn’t sure any of his weapons would be effective. “Is that supposed to flatter me?”

Before the stranger could reply, a bout of high pitched laughter echoed throughout the streets. The sound was all too familiar.

Virgil winced. “What is that idiot doing here?”

Taglist: @meowthefluffy (Ask to be added or removed!)

#prinxiety #sanders sides #ts sides #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts logan #ts remus #ts patton #logan sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #intruality #platnonic intruality #blood tw #knife tw #arctic's writing

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spacecakes20 · 4 years

Text

Begin Again

(Chapter 7)

Chapter 8: Luna, Missing Blueprints

Luna’s spring harvest wasn’t anything spectacular. She tried her best not to beat herself up about it; it was her first harvest after all. But the fact that she was losing more money than she was earning bothered her. She wanted to save up to invest in her farmhouse. She just couldn’t survive on a mini-fridge and a microwave anymore. She needed a real kitchen.

“Perhaps you could invest in a chicken coop!” The local carpenter, Robin, had told her. “It’s cheaper than the house upgrade, and you can make extra money off the eggs and mayonnaise.”

She’d kept that in mind, as she made her way to the library. Perhaps she could put in some research on chicken rearing. And maybe beekeeping too. Robin had given her a blueprint on building bee houses, and she wanted to put it to good use.

It was the first day of summer, and the air was as humid as ever. The sun hung high in the sky, the sound of cicadas filled the air, and the smell of nectar caressed her nose. It was an upgrade from the sounds of honking horns and the overwhelming smells of exhaust from broken down cars of the city. The air felt much fresher in the valley. Cleaner. The sounds of nature were much more calming than the chaotic noise of the hustle-and-bustle of Zuzu.

At the library, Luna collected any book related to farming she could get her hands on. She wanted her summer to be better. She wanted to prove that moving to the Valley wasn’t a mistake. She wanted—

“Luna!”

The young farmer turned to the sound of her name. She was greeted by plump rosy cheeks and bright violet hair. Abigail was seated at one of the desks behind the bookshelves.

“Hello, Abigail.” Luna greeted, almost shyly. She still wasn’t used to how close everyone seemed to be in Pelican Town. In the city, people usually went ignored. You were but a single drop of water in the large ocean of the masses. Insignificant.

Abigail had a stack of books next to where she sat at the table. From reading the spins, Luna saw most of them were history and archaeology books. A lot of the others seemed to be based on the occult and witchcraft. She had an open textbook, with a notebook beside it, paragraphs of words already written inside.

“That’s an… interesting assortment of books.” Said Luna, a bit intrigued.

Abigail followed her gaze to her pile of books she had. “Oh yeah.” She laughed, “I’m an archaeology major.” She clarified, “I’ve got final exams coming up.”

That… didn’t explain why she had books about the occult, but Luna decided to ignore that, “That so?”

Abigail nodded, “Yup.” Then, more softly now, “You know the mines in the mountains?”

“Yeah?” Luna answered, unsure where this conversation was going.

“Well, I’m going to explore them!” Abigail said, more confidently, “Figured no one could stop me if it was my job, ya know?”

Luna nodded, not fully understanding where she was coming from but didn’t want to sound rude by asking.

“What about you?” Abigail pointed to Luna’s books with her pencil, “What are you reading up on?”

“Oh,” Luna looked down at her books, and suddenly felt a little sheepish, “Just some books on gardening. Raising chickens and… beekeeping…” She didn’t want the townspeople to think she was incompetent. She was the granddaughter of a farmer, for Yoba’s sake. Wasn’t this kind of thing supposed to be in her blood?

But she wasn’t met with a look of condescension, but was surprised when she got an excited smile instead, “Oooh, are you going to make honey?” Abigail licked her lips at the thought, “When you do, let me know! Mom makes the best honey cakes!”

That caught Luna off guard, “S-sure.” She tried to collect herself, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Abigail simply smiled, “Well, I won’t keep you.” She said, “I’ve gotta cram anyway. I’ll talk to you later!” Then she went back to her studying.

It was almost sad how refreshing it was to hear words of encouragement that sounded genuine, rather than condescending kindness. Luna decided not to dwell on it, deciding to check out her books instead.

...

After spending a few hours on her farm studying, Luna was starting to feel restless. She decided to get started on building those bee houses. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t find the blueprint. Try as she might, it was like it up and disappeared. She’d thought, with how small her farmhouse was (it was just one room!), it’d be easy to find, but alas; she was out of luck. Perhaps she could go to Robin’s and get another copy. That seemed to be her only option.

She made her way up the mountain, taking in the fresh air. The hike to Robin’s house always felt relaxing, even if it didn’t seem to last too long. Standing in front of Robin’s shop, Luna rang the doorbell. It was only out of politeness. The carpenter had told her many times that it was okay to just come in, but Luna never felt comfortable doing that.

After standing there for what felt like forever, she decided to ring it again. Perhaps Robin couldn’t hear her. The kitchen was in the back of the house, right? Maybe she was making lunch. But the longer she stood there, the more she second-guessed herself. There was a possibility she wasn’t home. Her shoulders deflated with that thought. She was looking forward to putting together the bee houses. It looked like she’d just have to wait another day. Just as she was about to turn and leave, she heard the door open.

Her face lit up, “There you are Robin—”

That… wasn’t Robin at the door. It was her raven-haired son, Sebastian. He wasn’t wearing his black hoodie she had gotten so used to seeing him in. He had on a gray tee-shirt and some black sweatpants. He was as pale as ever, making his purple bags under his eyes more apparent. He looked exhausted, making Luna feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” She winced at the sound of her voice, “Did I bother you?”

He closed his eyes, putting his hand behind his head, “Not really,” He said, “I was already upstairs.” He opened his eyes and looked to her. His face was unreadable, “Mom went grocery shopping.”

“Oh…” She tried not to sound disappointed, and summoned the brightest smile she could muster, “Well, please let her know I stopped by.” Before she even took two steps, Sebastian spoke up.

“Wait.”

She turned to him, eyeing him curiously.

He hesitated for a second, as though he was weighing his options. Finally, he said, “She should be back soon. You can wait for her inside.”

That… took her by surprise. “Are you sure?”

He simply nodded, opening the door for her wider. She hesitated for a moment. It was very hospitable of him. Unsure with how to respond, she decided to smile, “Thank you.” She said, making her way into the house. He closed the door behind her. The foyer, where Robin did her business, felt smaller standing next to Sebastian. Perhaps it was because he was so tall.

“It’s a lot cooler in the basement.” His words brought her mind back to the forefront. She blinked at him in confusion. It took a while for her to register what he had said.

“Oh!” She laughed at herself, “Thank you.”

He led the way to the hallway, which lead to a doorway. She assumed that must have led to the basement. Come to think of it, she had never come this far into the house before. She normally did business with Robin at the front desk and left.

Sebastian led her down the stairs, and, upon opening the door, led her inside. She was first met with cool air. He was right, it was nicer in the basement. Getting a good look around the room, it was surprisingly neat. The bed was freshly made, clothes in the hamper instead of beside it. She was too used to people her age being more… disorganized.

She noticed Sebastian had made his way to a computer desk. He had two desktops; the one he wasn’t on looked to be for gaming. The LED lights kind of gave it away. Behind his desk was a bookshelf. She must have made her way over there on autopilot because she didn’t remember the walk. She examined the spines, reading them off one by one. There were all kinds of books lined up. Books on programming, gemology and mineralogy, comic books, and graphic novels. He also had his fair share of sci-fi, fantasy, and adventure novels. She recognized a few, from when she used to have time for reading. She had stopped when Charles told her she was “too mature to enjoy childish books.” The sound of typing snapped her out of her thoughts.

“One second,” Sebastian said, typing something up on his computer. He stared at the screen for a minute, perhaps checking his work, before turning his attention to Luna. “Sorry, busy working on a project for a client.”

That piqued her interest, “A client?” She asked, giving him her full attention, “What do you do for a living?”

He paused. He looked to be eyeing her carefully before allowing the words to leave his mouth, “I freelance.” He said finally, “A freelance programmer, specifically.”

“A freelancer, huh?” She responded, impressed. “That’s pretty cool. You’re like your own boss, then?”

He laughed, but it didn’t sound humorous, “I guess you could say that.” Before Luna had time to think about Sebastian’s response further, his computer pinged. He sighed. Without even looking at the screen, he said, “It’s Sam.” He sounded almost exasperated, “He just won’t stop messaging me.” Just as he spoke those words, his door opened. Robin’s bright freckled face peeked through. She looked surprised to see Luna there. Luna suddenly felt self-conscious. Like she’d just been caught alone in a man’s room. Well, she was alone in a man’s room. But not like that.

“Oh, hey Luna.” Robin sent her a smile before turning her attention to her son, “Sebby, I’m just letting you know,” She started carefully, “I ran into Abigail at the store. She said she’s looking for you.”

That seemed to have made Sebastian's shoulders deflate, as he sat back in his chair. He ran his fingers through his hair, slowly, “Did you tell her I’m working?”

Robin looked almost guilty, “I did…” She looked at him apologetically, “But she said she may stop by anyway.”

That only seemed to earn a groan from Sebastian. Robin sent him a sympathetic smile before turning her gaze to Luna, “If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen making dinner.” With that, she left, closing the door behind her.

Sebastian put his hands on his face and took in a deep breath. “No one seems to take my job seriously.” He mumbled, pushing his hands through his already messy hair. Luna wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear that. “No one bothers Maru when she’s busy at the clinic.”

Luna could have taken that as an opportunity to leave. She could have given Sebastian her thanks and followed Robin. She could have done that. But she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. She could never take the easy way out, now could she?

“So…” Her voice drifted. Sebastian sent her a look from the corner of his eye. She had his attention, so no sense in turning back now, “A programmer, huh?” She said, searching her brain for the right thing to say. She knew what she wanted to say, but finding how to say it always proved difficult. “That’s pretty impressive. Self-taught?” She recalled seeing more than a few computer science books on his shelf.

“Yeah,” He sat back in his chair, “Bet if I had gone to school, I’d probably be making six figures by now.”

Luna couldn’t hold back a snort, “Yeah, and you’d be spending most of it on student loans.” She laughed almost bitterly.

A ghost of a smile graced his lips, but it was gone too quick for Luna to realize if it was even there in the first place, “I just…” He looked away from her, eyes focused on his keyboard, “…Don’t want to be part of the cooperate rat race, you know?”

She got that. Boy did she get that. Climbing the cooperate ladder didn’t require hard work. Not like how she was taught. No, it required connections. It didn’t matter how good you were at your job, if you weren’t friends with the right person, you’ll never make it out of your position. It was disheartening seeing people get promoted over someone who was better qualified. And all because they couldn’t play the game. It happened far too often.

“If it makes you feel any better…” Luna smiled, trying to lighten the mood, “I got a degree in economics. Now I’m a farmer. So now my degree is the most expensive mouse pad that I own.”

That earned the amused response she was hoping for. Sebastian shook his head, “Economics, huh?”

“Mom wanted me to become an accountant.” Luna shrugged. More like she wanted Luna to get a "real job" when she told her mother she was thinking about majoring in Fine Arts. But Sebastian didn't need to know that. "Didn't work out that way, but hey, what can you do."

He nodded before turning his head to the ceiling. Leaning back in his computer chair, he looked to be lost in thought. “I plan on moving to the city.” He seemed to have surprised himself with that statement, as though he didn’t mean to say it out loud. At least, not to her. He sat up straighter in his chair, “Not too many work opportunities here in the valley.” He cracked his knuckles before his hands hovered over the keyboard. He looked to her, his face back to its default stoic self, “Don’t think I’m kicking you out,” He said, “But I need to get this finished by tomorrow.”

It wasn’t so much as a hint, as it was a huge neon sign. Contrary to what he was saying, he was, in fact, kicking her out.

“Alright.” She made her way to the door, before turning to Sebastian, “It was nice talking with you.” And she meant it. It was perhaps the first real conversation the two had alone together. He didn’t word his response, simply humming back to her. He was probably too focused on work. She didn’t mind. She had invaded his space long enough. In the meantime, she needed to ask Robin about those blueprints so that she could get back to work too.

#stardew valley #stardew fanfic #stardew valley sebastian #stardew sebastian #sebastian x farmer

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thetriggeredhappy · 5 years

Note

angst&hurt/comfort, where scout is anxious and doubts his skills, so he tries to calm himself by holding/hugging/whatever his plushie (or something else, idk), whilst someone is trying to get to him, to make him confess what is bothering him? idk if you wanna make it a ship ir maybe dad spy, ily -🦂

oh dude you already KNOW dad!spy hours are 24/7 up in here. welcome to “projecting RSD onto Scout TF2 episode 85″

Stupid summer, stupid break, stupid losing streak. Stupid everything.

Usually Scout was excited about breaks. A week or so of getting to be off work, heading home to visit family or going on a road trip or whatever was happening. It was nice, he loved it. But this time they had explicit orders from their boss not to go anywhere or do anything. To stay on base or to go specifically exclusively to the store in the nearest town for food or whatever. He hated it. The base was too small to hang out in for more than a few days at a time. He hated it.

And not to mention that they’d finished off work on a bad note. A day of losses turning into a week of losses, half the team scrambling to try and pull together enough to get one last good push in before the break and the other half deciding to just accept the loss and do better once they got back.

And every day after battle Soldier would single out someone who wasn’t on top of their game and lecture them. And all week, instead of going for the people who were largely slacking off and not breaking their necks to try and get them some actual wins, he went after Scout, who was so frantic that he kept making stupid mistakes.

And he just... usually he argued about it, and got in a fight with Soldier, but he just... didn’t have the energy for it. The day was over. They’d lost. And Scout knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, but it kind of felt like it. Maybe if he’d tried just a little bit harder, pushed himself just a little further, he could’ve gotten the rest of the team motivated. Maybe they all would’ve picked things back up and tried too. But he couldn’t do it.

It was frustrating. He knew his job, beyond what he did on the field, was trying to keep morale up. He kept music playing, he was always up for hanging out or playing a few hands of poker or headed into town with someone to get shitty fast food. And he tried really hard to be funny and to keep things lighthearted, tried so fucking hard to keep spirits up. And he knew if he said anything about it, pointed out how literally like all of his time was spent trying to make sure everyone was feeling okay, it would...

He didn’t know. Maybe they’d just tell him off for being whiny or whatever. Maybe it would stop working so well, if they knew he was always doing it so extremely on purpose, so intentionally. He didn’t know.

But at that moment, he was feeling so much like utter garbage that he knew he had to just avoid the team so he didn’t drag the mood down further. Usually they didn’t really miss him anyways, other than idly asking if he’d gotten into any trouble while he was off doing “whatever he did”. All he knew was that him feeling like shit around everyone else would just make them feel bad too. And it was break anyways—maybe they’d just end up feeling better on their own. Especially since he wasn’t around to interrupt them.

He had plenty of food in his room, mostly chips and candy bars and stuff like that, stuff he didn’t want the guys stealing. And he’d totally share if they asked, for sure, but for that moment he was mostly just digging through the hoard for himself and doing not much of anything else.

He felt like kind of an idiot, sitting alone and eating his feelings like some kind of angsty teen in a movie or the chick in the romcom who just got broken up with. But there was nobody there to ridicule him except himself. And he did, but... the point stood.

A few days passed like that. He had food, he had the little bathroom connected to his room, he had comics to entertain himself. He slept a lot, mostly. Felt like garbage. Read some comics. Ate chocolate about it. Slept some more. He left a few times to do a few assorted things—called home like he did every week, went into the common room late one night to grab some of his records back so he could listen to them.

At one point, he got a knock on his door. He didn’t answer, couldn’t seem to find the energy to. A second knock when the first was unanswered after about twenty seconds. He still didn’t move.

The next day, another knock. This one was accompanied by words. “Scout? I know you’re in there,” Spy called, sounding annoyed.

To be honest, Scout was pretty sure he didn’t have the energy to deal with whatever Spy was about to lecture him about. So he just rolled over.

“You’ve missed every team meal for almost four days. You’re being rude,” Spy declared.

Scout reached off the side of the bed and picked up a plushie that had fallen down. It was a big, chunky pig, and he’d won it when he and Pyro had gone out to a fair and he’d knocked the ball toss game out of the park. Pyro had taken three of the plushies he’d won, and insisted he keep the fourth for himself.

He felt like even more of a dumb baby, sitting there cradling a stuffed animal like he was scared to head off to his first day of kindergarten, but he was already too tired and filled with vague unrest for it to get to him much.

At some point he heard a heavy sigh and the clack of fancy shoes moving away down the hallway, and Scout relaxed.

Twenty minutes later, a knock.

“Scout, let me in,” Spy said firmly.

“Fuck off, Spy,” Scout snapped.

“Scout, if you don’t open the door, I’m going to,” Spy declared.

“Bullshit.”

A heavy sigh, and then a few moments later the door swung open.

“What the fuck?” Scout asked, lifting his head to glare towards the door as Spy stepped inside.

“I know how to pick locks, Scout. You know this.” Spy squinted to try to get used to the light, the blinds having been drawn. “I’m turning a light on.”

Scout just grumbled, dropping his head back into the plush pig. In his periphery, the light was indeed turned on. There was a beat of silence.

“I brought a plate from dinner. I was concerned you would get scurvy, since you now apparently have the diet of an eight year old child who was given a hundred dollars and left unsupervised at the grocery store,” Spy said dryly.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ handouts, Spy,” Scout muttered, muffled.

“It’s not a handout, it’s the fact that I refuse to have anyone on the team besides me whose teeth are falling out. Take the food.”

“Fuck off.”

Spy sighed again, and after a moment he moved to put the plate on the bedside table. Scout prickled at the proximity, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking up.

“I noticed that while you haven’t been at dinner, you still took the time to leave a thumb tack on my chair. Usually when you do that it’s because you’re angry with me. What exactly have I done?”

“I’m not mad at you, I’m just mad,” Scout grumbled.

“You know, it’s very childish to refuse to look at someone when they are trying to talk to you.”

“Guess I’ll just keep being the dumb idiot kid of the team then, huh?” Scout snapped.

Silence for a moment. “Scout. You’ve locked yourself away in your room and refused to come out again for several days. I know that something is wrong. The team does too—they’re starting to worry.”

“That might just be the most obvious lie you’ve ever fuckin’ told me, Spy,” Scout practically spat, and was glad to have his voice muffled, because suddenly it went a little tight.

“Is it that hard to believe that perhaps your teammates care about you?” Spy asked, a little sharply.

“It’s me, in case you haven’t noticed,” Scout said next, getting his voice back under control. “People don’t hang around me on purpose. They put up with me. And then they stop putting up with me at some point.”

“That’s not true,” Spy said, tone leaving no room for argument, but Scout elbowed some argument in anyways.

“All seven of my brothers, every fuckin’ date I’ve ever been on, the standing ban sayin’ I can’t go in Engie’s workshop or in Heavy’s workspace down by the boiler or the infirmary unless I’m actually seriously injured—“ Scout listed off, ticking off on his fingers, keeping his face hidden. “My own fucking dad decided he couldn’t fucking stand me and I was two years old, Spy, what the hell does that tell you? I’m an annoying little piece of shit and that’s all I’m ever gonna be and then one of these days I’m gonna die for real out in this hellhole desert and ain’t a single damn person out here will have ever even bothered to learn the name that’s supposed to go on my gravestone.”

Dead silence in the room. Scout’s arm fell back down by his side. His voice was shaky when he spoke again.

“Nobody’s ever even asked,” he managed. “Demo’s real name is Tavish, Heavy’s real name is Mikhal but his sisters call him Misha. And plenty of you guys get asked about it all the time but you don’t wanna say. And nobody’s ever even fuckin’ asked me.”

Silence for a few more seconds.

“I’m a whole person,” Scout said next. “I’m really into sci-fi. I’ve read every mainline issue comic book ever published after ‘35. I know how to cook and draw and I know the all the stats of every person on every major league baseball team. I was in theater in high school between track and baseball season in the winters and I and got a lead role on some Shakespearicles thing before it got cancelled because of budget cuts. I bet you didn’t even know that.”

“I didn’t,” Spy admitted.

“And why would you? Who the fuck cares? It’s just dumb scrawny idiot Scout, who the fuck cares what his deal is? He can barely do his job and read any word that’s over four syllables, who cares what he does? He ain’t nothin’ today, he must never have been somethin’ in the first place.”

“Scout—“

“Tell me I’m wrong, Spy,” he snapped, voice cracking down the middle.

“You’re wrong. Scout, what’s going on?” Spy asked, and his voice sounded closer, like he’d taken a knee. “What happened?”

He understood, logically, that telling Spy damn near anything was a bad idea. He sold information for a living. But logic hadn’t ever been much help to him, and anyways, he was pretty sure he was about to break down either way, and he could either cry like a dumb little baby and Spy could go to the rest of the team and tell them about stupid Scout and his crying for no reason, or he could at least sort of maybe a little bit sound justified and a little bit less completely unhinged.

“We lost all week because I fuckin’ suck at my job, and we don’t get to go off base for some goddamn reason, and I miss my family, and I—“ God damn it, he hoped to at least get to a second sentence before he broke, but here came the waterworks. “—and I know the team doesn’t give a shit, and if they even noticed they probably think I’m being some idiot baby, and I’m just so fuckin’ tired of all of this, alright? I’m just so goddamn exhausted, all the time, and no matter what I do I can’t make my own stupid, shitty, broken-ass brain shut up, and I...”

There was a hand on his shoulder, now. For some reason that’s what unstuck the sob in his throat.

“And I just miss my mom,” he managed, and sobbed again. “And I know that just makes me a stupid fucking baby—“

“Scout, it doesn’t,” Spy said firmly.

“Bullshit.”

A sigh, less exasperated than the others. “Scout, I miss my own parents. Often. Heavy writes to his mother, the Bushman calls home once a week and stays on the phone for an hour at a time. Do you think they would do that if they didn’t miss them?”

Scout couldn’t seem to find his voice, and just sniffled a little.

“If anything, it’s good that you miss your mother. You are appreciating her now, while she’s still part of your life, rather than later on when she’s gone. That’s a good thing.”

“Here I am cryin’ over dumb shit—“

“The fact that you’re even capable of tears shows that you haven’t completely sealed yourself off from your emotions like several of our testosterone-puppet teammates. I’m fairly certain that Medic surgically removed his own tear ducts. I think Soldier is so dehydrated that he’s incapable of it. And rather than sweat he needs to cover himself in liquid-like food products or else he’ll die of heat stroke.”

Despite everything, that made Scout laugh, just a little. More of a hiccup than anything else.

“Admittedly, you have greater social needs than several of our team, and they need to take breaks. Not just from you, but from everyone. It’s part of being human, everyone requires some amount of time alone or else they start losing their minds. But that doesn’t mean that they don’t care about you—value the things you do for this team, even. Every time someone would like company when going in to town for any reason, they always ask me where you are. And you’ve given good film recommendations to everyone except for the Sniper.”

“Guy hates movies,” Scout defended weakly.

“You keep recommending horror films. As it turns out, he is a fan of romantic comedies.”

“Fuckin’ what? Seriously?”

“I was shocked too. His complete lack of taste in all areas of his life continues to amaze me.”

Scout scoffed at that. A beat of silence.

“What I am saying is that the team doesn’t simply put up with you. You’re impossible to simply put up with, you take up too big a part of everyone’s life here. Instead, they must like and respect you.” A pause. “And your father must have truly been an idiot. Anyone with two eyes would be proud of the challenges you’ve faced and overcome with all of the disadvantages you’ve been dealt over your lifetime.”

Scout sniffled, wiped his eyes with his forearm, finally managed to look up at Spy. “Anyone with two eyes? You sayin’ you’re proud of me, then?” he asked, even if it was a little shaky.

“I feel no strong emotions,” Spy deadpanned.

“Alright, nevermind about earlier. That’s the most obvious lie you’ve ever told me.”

Spy rolled his eyes, standing, brushing off the knee of his suit.

Scout looked at the plate, made a face. “Aw man, what the fuck, is that asparagus? Is Medic back on trying to make us eat healthy again?”

“The Engineer cooked it, stop complaining and just eat it,” Spy said, quickly falling back into his role of naggy just on the near side of patronizing.

“C’mon, it couldn’t have been like, mashed potatoes or broccoli or somethin’?”

“You always douse those things in salt and butter. That combined with the energy drinks means you’re going to get a heart condition before I do.”

“Just get the fuck outta my room, Spy,” Scout huffed, putting the stuffed animal aside and moving to pick up the plate and utensils.

“Very well. And go talk to Demoman at some point, he’s been whining about nobody wanting to go get fast food with him for two days,” Spy said as he walked to the door. “And you can’t borrow my car to go.”

“Fuck you, Spy,” Scout said flippantly, waving him off.

“Fuck you too,” Spy said just as casually, and made sure to close the door behind him.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #dad!spy #shut up me #my fanfiction #everybody talks #unrelated to this fic but requests might be a little slow for the next few days. life just got real busy for me

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katecarteir · 5 years

Text

writing prompt masterlist #1

Of course, there’s 75 million prompt lists out there but i figured there’s nothing wrong with making my own. Send me a category + a number + a pairing and i’ll write you a fic. Okay to reblog and use :) (x)

Fake/Secret/Etc Dating AUs:

my parents keep setting me up on blind dates but in reality I’m dating you and it’s so you help me get out of them

i hate commitment but my dad’s dying wish is to see me get married and you’re an old family friend i ran into at the airport on my way to visit him so hey let’s get engaged

you need a plus-one for your brother’s wedding so i’m going as a favor but there’s been a misunderstanding and now your whole family thinks we’re engaged

i’m mad at my parents so i ask you out because they wouldn’t approve of you and you’re well aware that i’m just using you but you agree because you find it funny but hey you’re actually super sweet

there’s this really creepy person hitting on me and i don’t know you but you pretending to be my partner completely saved my ass thanks how about i buy you a drink

we’re just really touchy friends and we get each other gifts all the time but everyone thinks we’re going out and we let them think that but why are you getting upset about me going on a date we’re not actually together?

I’m sorry you always thought your love for me was unrequited but on to more important matters YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED IN THE MORNING SO YOU HAVE A DECISION TO MAKE YOU ASSHOLE!

Our mutual friend apparently has been waiting for us to get together and so they’re very angry/disappointed/upset when they find out that the reason we kissed last night was because we were black-out drunk

everyone thinks we hate each other and we keep that front up in public, so we have hilarious pretend fights and squabbles and pranks

when we were little I accidentally mentioned that I had a crush on you but I always thought you didn’t hear me because you just looked at me weird and never commented but now we’re in high school and omg you just introduced me as your boyfriend/girlfriend/datemate wtf we never discussed this

friends to lovers aus

You’ve got a date tonight and you asked for advice on what to wear but I’m so in love with you and damn you look good in the outfit I picked out for you

You’ve liked me for ages and were really obvious about it and I didn’t like all the attention but now you’re over me I really miss it and fuck I think I like you too?

You want us both to get in shape and I hate working out/running but your ass looks really good in shorts oh the things I do for my friends and their nice asses

Our best friends are that awful ‘cute’ couple that make-out in public and call each other “sweetie” and “sugar” and “babe” and god they’re awful let’s talk about how awful they are – develops into “shit we’re the awful couple now”

Celebrity/Famous AUs

listen, you may be a famous (and extremely attractive) guitarist, but that gives you no right to practise on the electric at two a.m when we live right next to each other.

We broke up and I used my feelings to write songs and now I’m super popular and you want me back

we decided to make a fake vlog drama for our subscribers and they all think it’s real but jokes on us we end up actually liking each other

I run a prank channel and you were some innocent bystander I pranked for a video but then it turns out hey, you’re also famous online haha shit

we met and started talking but i didn’t know you were a rising star until i noticed cameras following me wtf

you’re a reporter and i think you’re super cute so i’ll only give you personal interviews to help your career and also get you to talk to me more

I’m a celebrity and I have a secret social media account and we started talking online and now we’re close friends but you want to meet up oh shit

I’m a celebrity and I may or may not be following your blog which is dedicated to me. reading your comments and tags are hilarious and very flattering and I’m somewhat smitten

You’re an actor/other famous person that I really admire and I just saw you in the street and as I was debating whether or not to say hi you came up to me and started flirting what do I do??

wedding/kids/marriage/long term relationship AUs

we’ve been dating forever, and you just caught the bouquet at our friend’s wedding

remember when we were in high school and we swore that if we were still single at 30 we’d marry each other, well hey guess whose birthday it is

i’m a runaway bride/groom and you’re driving my getaway car

I suddenly bumped into you after years and wow you look good but holy crap is that a kid?? since when?

you had a breakdown because the baby wouldn’t stop crying and you kept saying how you weren’t ready and how you couldn’t do it

whenever my kid starts crying I just hand them to you and then they just stop and start smiling

“i’m so sorry that my child pointed out how your shirt- actually nevermind i agree, that shirt is horrendous”

i always tease you because that’s just our thing we tease each other but for some reason you snapped at me and are you okay? what’s wrong?

my in-laws despise me GREAT but around you they’re super nice so you don’t believe me

neighbours AUs

You always complain about how loud I am (whether it be TV, video games or music/musical instrument is up to you) and this is the first time you’ve actually knocked on my apartment door and given me a lecture there rather than giving me a phone call, but I’m not really listening because I didn’t realise I had such a cute neighbour

you never open your door for children on halloween so i always pay the kids to smear your door with shaving cream

my printer isnt printing anymore and my papers are due tomorrow so im on my knees in front of your door begging to use your printer when the old lady from above passes us and thinks im proposing to you

we always run into each other on the stairs but we’ve never said more than hello but when we found out that we both hate the other neighbours, we became friends

i came home drunk and wouldnt stop knocking on your door. when you open i keep telling you to get out of my apartment

after a rough party night i find you sleeping on the stairs but since im still a little asshole all i do is put a blanket over you and a pillow under your head

Please help me, I know you have a kid and my sibling just dropped their baby on me where’s the button to put them to sleep?

I’m stressed and sleep-deprived, please let me pet your cat.

I have really weird dreams and you have really weird dreams so now we’re in this contest to see who has the weirdest dreams.

Strangers/Meet Cute (or meet very NOT cute) AUs

We were sitting next to each other in a public place and I saw a mosquito on you and my instincts just acted before my mind.

We mixed up our clothes at the laundry service and I have nothing left to wear and every thing you wear is too big/small for me.

We’re at a comic book store and if you tell me your superhero is better than mine I’m gonna have to punch you in the teeth.

There are no table left at this restaurant and you let me sit at yours since you’re alone.

I’m a single grown-up with busy friends but I want to go to Disneyland so I drop a message on a forum to find someone like me to go wear silly Mickey ears headband and stuff ourselves with cotton candy.

My computer broke down so I called an IT and now I need to find a reason to call them back so I delete important files and download adwares and do all kinds of stupid things.

I almost dropped something and in my fumbling attempts to stop it from hitting the floor I accidentally projectiled it at your face and it’s a really nice face I’m so sorry

first day at a new job and oh fuck my boss is the person I drunkenly hooked up with last weekend/night

I wanted to go on the ferris wheel but there has to be two people to a cart come on random person let’s go oh wait are we stuck at the top? Fuck

Our mutual friend set us up on a blind date and I thought I’d hate it but you’re actually… kind of funny? But because I expected to hate it in no way am I going to let you change my mind just because you’re gorgeous and funny and intelligent oh no my friend is not winning this

college/high school AUs:

i went on a date with a boy who had plans to take me to dinner and drinks. but he lost his wallet at a pizza place so we just walked around the neighborhood, sat in the park and talked.

we’re in the same study group but we dont talk but you brought goldfish and im starving

we have the same notebook and we took the wrong ones home so i used your notes on my open book test

you were my elementary school crush but you moved away but somehow we end up miraculously going to the same college and i barely recognized you because holy hot damn you are more attractive than i remember?

I tripped over on my way to this party and I’m bleeding profusely from the grazes on my knees and you’re a complete stranger that pretty much jumped me the second I walked in the door to play nurse

ive had a crush on you for 3+ years and now youre going out with my best friend and i definitely havent locked myself in a toilet cubicle to cry

We’re in different debate classes and I was constructing a case on the board and I come in the next morning and you’ve replied to all my points really well?? But I don’t even know your name? And oh shit, we’re taking over the entire whiteboard, is that your phone number squeezed into the corner of the board there?

You have braces and I don’t and I keep forgetting you’re not allowed to have gum so every time I offer, you give this death glare

You sent me a text asking if I wanted to go to prom on the day of prom and I’m not in town

I’m a notorious goody two shoes and you look like you get into fights on a daily basis, so when you were in the library on the first day I was supposed to be a tutor, I assumed I’d be tutoring you. But, as it turns out, we’re both tutors, and the people we’re tutoring keep blowing us off to make out and we have to go round them up

we have a mutual best friend but they cannot find out how much i like you then they’ll tell you, but i need to find out if you’re single!

I sat down in the wrong class and I’m panicking but don’t want to get up and leave because the class has started and you think it’s hilarious

You pissed me off in class so I threw a book at your head and now I’m in detention and jesus fuck I hate you so much and the teacher made me apologise and wait you’re cuter up close

soulmate aus

if one soulmate gets an injury, the other gets it as well.

Character A has a soulmate, but Character A died before they got to meet them. As Character A navigates the afterlife in their ghostly form, they discover that they can’t “move on” until they’ve met their soulmate.

the very first words your soulmate ever says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body since the day you are born

when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever, it will show up on your soul mates skin as well.

You get an ‘impression’ of your soulmate when you turn 18 or something but all I got was a strong smell of bananas or something

you have a compass on your wrist and it directs you to where your soulmate is

i usually think i’m having a conversation with myself in my head but it turns out we’re telepathically connected

everybody is born with a map “tattooed” on their forearm that’s centered on the exact location of where they’ll first meet their soul mate

#writing #writing prompts #i did this instead of........ actually writing #eddieways feel free to reblog and/or send prompts

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dilliebar · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Want to Talk About It: A Dillie Fic

Hey guys! I wrote another Ellie/Dina fanfic, hopefully it’ll make your day a little better among all the hate out there right now. Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977564

Months after their first kiss, Ellie and Dina still haven't talked about it. Eventually the tension rises, and eventually, something has to break.

A month into summer, and Ellie was already done with partying, drinking, and pretty much the entire scene of teenagers making bad decisions. While she would be inside reading one of her beloved comics or just outside of Jackson hunting with nothing but her bow at her side, everyone else her age would probably be out somewhere hooking up or getting wasted. But despite her differences, everyone still had the responsibility of going out on patrol once in a while, and today was her turn to go on a two-day patrol with Dina.

For Ellie it was a relief. The two of them were almost polar opposites when it came to social interaction, and if she had to show up to yet another one of those parties Dina dragged her to only to end up walking home alone again, she would probably feed herself to a clicker.

Seemingly for Dina, however, the patrol wasn’t on her mind at all.

“I swear Jesse just set this up so we couldn’t go to the bonfire tonight.”

Ellie remained silent as the two of them tracked along on their horses, Dina going on and on about her jealous ex-boyfriend and how out-to-get-her he was. The taller girl couldn’t help but notice the little tinge of something in her chest at the way her friend was talking about him. Was it jealousy? No, it couldn’t be.

“I mean really, you’ve noticed it too, right?”

She continued to stare off into space, caught in her thoughts until the sudden silence made Ellie realize that Dina was awaiting an answer.

“Oh. I dunno,” she shrugged, “we haven’t been out in a while, and there’s a party pretty much every night. We’d have to miss something at some point.”

Dina hummed in agreement.

After their first kiss at the dance a few months before, neither of them really brought it up, except the one time when Dina practically forced Ellie to rate it on a scale from 1-10, which only resulted in her sarcastic response of “three”.

Sometimes she could feel the tension between them, but whether it was a good or bad tension was yet to be determined. Ellie was never too good at reading the mood when it came to flirting, and putting off the conversation only seemed to make the tension become thicker and thicker until she almost felt that they were pushing each other apart like the same ends of different magnets.

She often questioned if it was all in her head, but the more Dina talked about Jesse, the more she was convinced that it wasn’t.

Eventually the two rolled up to their destination: a small rural town by the name of Wilson just a little bit west of Jackson. It was a quaint town, but the amount of farming equipment made it a popular spot to scavenge for spare parts and fuel, and despite its appearance, it actually held a few nice shops in the middle. Ellie and Dina had never been there before, but from what they’d heard they would probably come back with a decent amount of supplies.

They roamed down the main road for a bit, keeping an eye out for any major gold-mines.

“Everything actually looks pretty looted.” Ellie commented, and it was true. From what was marked on the map, which was practically nothing, and what little was left of the bare machinery, there wasn’t really much that the two of them could take back to Jackson. At least, that’s what Ellie thought, anyway.

“Hey look! Over there.”

Ellie’s eyes followed Dina’s pointed finger over to what looked to be an old, grown-over antique store. Part of the roof was caved in, with cracks in the walls running up each side of the building. Sure enough, it wasn’t crossed out on the map, but Ellie wasn’t convinced.

“That place looks like a death trap” she laughed.

“Oh come on, it doesn’t look that bad,” Dina soothed, “We’ll stick to the non-caved in part, how about that?”

Ellie shook her head, “Lead the way.”

The two tied up their horses to the bike rack outside and began to look for a way in, but alas, the front door was blocked off from the inside, and the back entrance was locked with a keypad, because of course it was. Breaking the glass windows wasn’t too good of an idea, either, considering the fact that they had no clue what kind of infected were in there, and they were already low on ammunition as it was.

Dina turned to the taller girl, “I think there might only be one way in.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow and contemplated for a minute before realizing what she meant.

“No.” she stated firmly.

“But-”

“There’s no way that you can make me walk on top of that thing, all for some glorified alarm clocks and maybe a teapot.”

“Come on, maybe there’s some cool comics in there.” Dina tempted.

“Dude.”

They both fell silent, each waiting for the other to do something. It was moments like this when Ellie had no clue what the shorter girl was thinking, if they were just joking around or if they were actually having a disagreement. It was the kind of tension that had surrounded them since their kiss, and it was infuriating.

Ellie looked at Dina, their eyes meeting in a tension-filled glance. But she could never look deep into those brown pools for long, and after a brief moment she turned back towards her horse to grab the map.

“Listen, let’s just keep looking, okay? I’m sure there’s some more stuff out-”

But Dina wasn’t listening, and when Ellie turned around, she was halfway up the rusted ladder on the side of the building.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, not sure whether she should follow the girl into that building she just knew would get one or both of them hurt or killed, or just decide to stick by the horses, trusting that Dina could handle herself regardless of what was in that creepy ass excuse for a shop.

But the latter didn’t seem like an option.

Fuck it.

Ellie raced up the ladder as if her life depended on it, her hands gripping the rough rungs one after the other, but when she got to the roof, her friend was nowhere to be seen. “Dina?” she called through the collapsed part of the roof, but yet there was no response. On one hand, she couldn’t hear any obvious sounds of any infected, but the lack of Dina’s voice still worried her to no end.

She could see that the collapsed part of the roof sloped violently downward into some knocked-over bookcases, with various hardcovers littering the hardwood floor. The rest of the room, unlit by the opening, was dark, and even with her flashlight Ellie couldn’t see where in the damn hell Dina was among all the leftover junk that no one bothered to take.

Ellie called out to the girl again, with still no response, but with the squinting of her eyes she could make out a still figure in the back of the store, downed and unconscious.

“Shit shit shit.”

That’s when, without thinking twice, she took a step forward, and the ceiling cracked under her. She quickly lost her footing and before she knew it, she tumbled down the opening in the roof before her back hit the pile of books and all of the air left her lungs. It was a hefty fall, maybe ten feet or so, but after remembering why she was down there in the first place she quickly recovered.

Ellie grabbed for her flashlight without any luck, got up, and brushed herself off, ignoring the pain in her back and beginning to make her way to the back of the room where she saw the younger girl. Her attempts to call out for Dina were met with nothing but silence.

She approached slowly, her arms out in front of her, making sure she didn’t run into anything in the dark and that there weren’t any infected lurking around the hundred-year-old antiques before she finally reached down.

But the arm she was touching was cold and hard, almost like plastic.

And that’s when the head fell off.

“BOO!”

Ellie fell over in shock, with a sudden beam of light shown in her face. When she looked back down at the figure, she realized her mistake.

A fucking mannequin.

She looked up at the person who held that familiar voice; a voice she would know anywhere.

“What the fuck, Dina?!”

Dina turned the flashlight out of Ellie’s eyes to reveal her pretty much dying from laughter. She was fine, without even a scratch.

“You totally should’ve seen your face!”

Ellie got up off the ground for the second time that day, too shocked and annoyed by the situation to even respond. She stormed off back to the pile of books in an attempt to find her flashlight, and Dina non-hesitantly followed.

Ellie knew it was a joke. She knew that this was the playful banter and stupid pranks that they had engaged in together before all this tension began to build. It was a fun thing, but eventually something had to snap.

“See? I told you this place wasn’t that ba-” “Dude, it could’ve been that bad!”

Ellie turned around sharply and looked Dina dead in the eye, her own filled more with concern and confusion than anger. The shorter girl was taken aback, never having seen a rise out of Ellie this abrupt before. Neither of them knew what to say, and so Dina asked.

“What’s your problem?”

The taller girl scoffed, “What’s my problem?”

“Yes, dude. You’ve been all weird for weeks!”

“I’ve been weird?! At least I don’t drag girls to random parties every night just to leave them hanging and make them awkwardly stand in the corner!”

Dina crossed her arms, “I’ve been flirting with you every time, you dumbass! You’re just too blind to see it!”

Now it was Ellie who asked.

“What?”

Dina rolled her eyes, uncrossing her arms and sticking her hands in her pockets. The heat of the conversation began to even out a bit.

“I don’t know, I thought the kiss a while ago made everything pretty obvious.”

Ellie just stared, frozen in place.

“And all those times I’ve ‘dragged’ you to come with me…” for the first time in the conversation, she hesitated, “I was hoping you would make a move one of those nights, okay?”

The words stalled, and Ellie took a step forward apologetically, “Dina, I-”

“I thought you felt the same way, as stupid as that sounds,” she mocked herself, “But it’s fine. I won’t bring it up again, alright?”

Dina went to turn away when she felt Ellie’s soft hand on her wrist pulling her back. Their eyes met again, and unlike the gaze they held earlier today, this one was understanding, loving, and Ellie couldn’t bring herself to look away.

“I do feel that way,” she corrected, “We never talked about it- the kiss, I mean- and I just wasn’t really sure if that’s what you wanted.”

Dina grabbed the taller girl’s hand, and whispered in the smallest voice,

“Then let’s talk about it.”

Ellie shook her head, letting go of her hands and lightly taking the shorter girl’s face in her palms.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Then she closed the gap between them, and when their lips met for the second time they could feel any tension that was left melt away, almost as if it had never been there in the first place. Fire ran through Ellie’s veins, igniting a spark she had only felt once before with Dina, and the other girl was just as submissive to the feeling.

Dina’s hands made their way to the back of the taller girl’s neck, deepening the kiss. She had kissed lots of people before, but way the softness of Ellie’s lips felt against her own and the taste of lingering whiskey didn’t compare to any other feeling in her life, other than maybe a handful of things she could imagine in that moment, all having to do with Ellie.

Breaking the kiss for air was painful, almost as if it were more important than breathing. They leaned their foreheads against each other, each one of them trying to catch their breath.

“Okay, but we definitely have to talk about that.”

Ellie laughed before leaning in again to leave a brief kiss on the shorter girl’s lips, then pulling back and taking her hands in her own.

“You wish.”

#the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us part two #the last of us ii #tlou #tlou2 #tlou ii #tlou ellie #tlou dina #ellie x dina #ellie and dina #dina and ellie #dina x ellie #tloup2 #fanfic

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manggojooz · 5 years

Text

Take My Hands Now (Part 11)

pairing: Jungkook x reader

word count: 2,342

genre: drama, angst, romance, fluff(!!!)

summary: You were born with a condition that allowed you to feel the pain someone else was going through when you touched them. Jungkook, on the other hand, looked like he could not be any less bothered with other people’s feelings and was a well known playboy of the school. One night, at a party, while he attempted to turn you into his toy for the night, he grabbed your hand and pain crashed through you, making you wonder whether behind the facade of this pleasure seeker, he could also be hiding something.

warnings: none

Song rec: Only One - by UNB

He reminded himself over and over again that he is not allowed to get used to this, he cannot possibly have anyone, he should not start getting attached. To accept you now is to have someone to lose again.

But here you were... holding him again and again, even after he pushes you away, again and again. Why did you believe that he was not the part he played? The character that he portrayed just so that he can lie to himself that even if everyone leaves him, they were right anyway?

“Even if it hurts, I’m not leaving”, was all you said.

He recalls all the instances you offered up yourself to share his pain... Even in this moment, you held him steadfast in your arms as though you were not afraid of that awful feeling resonating from within him. He should at least let you in, no, he wants to let you in.

He starts to cower a little inside your arms, and he raises his hands to return your embrace. You felt his hands on your back, jolts of pain spread across where he held onto you. Then he snuggles his face into the curve of your neck, you felt a tiny droplet of something. Now your heart hurt way more than your body ever could.

“It’s ok”, you whispered, to assure him that you were ok, and that he was going to be ok too.

He only pulls you in closer.

---

The moon shone bright as you walked with Jungkook back to the university. He wanted to send you back to your dorms but you insisted that he was the one who needed to be dropped off instead, so you both ended up heading to his practice room lair. On the way, he filled you in on what had happened.

“Do you hate them? Is that why you ran away?”, you asked.

He didn’t answer. Did he hate them?

---

“You’ve been sleeping here these few days?”, you were appalled as you walked into the messy room.

“Yeah, I've been spending the past few nights here, although there is hardly any sleeping involved...”, he moves to sit down on the couch, resting both elbows on his thighs, his hands soothing over his eyebrows.

You see a pillow strewn on the floor and you picked it and dropped it nearer to the head of the couch before plopping yourself onto it.

“Are you tired? You can sit here”, he flicked his head, gesturing the empty space next to him on the sofa.

Shaking your head, you replied as you sat cross-legged on the floor, “I’m not leaving tonight till I see you fall asleep.”

“But I can’t...”, he quipped.

“Then I’m not leaving this pillow”, you shrugged, “... let’s see... oh right I have a morning class tomorrow and then I gotta go to work after that. Guess I'll just be really tired out since you wouldn’t sleep.”

He doesn’t say anything, only just stares at you, knowing how relentlessly stubborn you can be. Almost begrudgingly, he lies down on the couch, resting his head on the side facing you.

His eyes lock with yours, just long enough for him to read all your features like a bedtime story. Then he closes his eyes in contentment, trying to lull himself to sleep so that you can get some rest too.

You mentally commended yourself for having formulated the tactic of dealing with this boy. He doesn’t care about himself, but he cares about you. You smiled to yourself.

---

Jungkook’s eyes flutter open, it was too bright at first and he resorted to squinting. When his vision finally came into focus, he thought he must still be in his dreams. Your face rested so close to him, leaning against the armrest of the sofa, having fallen asleep from watching over him last night.

A minute must have passed but he felt like time stopped as he continued to observe you. The room seemed to be filled with all of the world’s softest things – the morning sunlight, your sleeping face and the trembling feeling in his chest.

But the sharp ticking of the clock in the room reminded him. “Y/N”, he calls out quietly.

You slowly wake up. “Heol, it’s morning already...?”, you slurred.

“Aren’t you going to be late for class?”, he whispers.

You glance at the time on the clock. “Shit!”, you scrambled up, grabbing your bag and running off to class. He tosses himself over to face the ceiling. He inhales, and his heart swells. He exhales, and his lips curl up a little. This is new.

---

“Bye Mr Hwang, see you tomorrow”, you waved to your store manager as you left work.

You fumbled inside your bag for your phone while walking out of the bookstore and narrowly miss bumping into the human that jumped into your path.

“Were you late for class this morning?”, you looked up and to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

Was he waiting for you to get off work? No no, you reminded yourself not to be presumptuous like you were last time. He might be here for other reasons, his family owns this mall after all.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrinks back one inch in shock. “To pick you up of course, why else? Isn’t that a given, now that we are, you know, dating?”

“We are what?”, you gasped, without missing a beat, shocked by the suddenness of the assertion.

“You were the one who hugged me last night, are you just gonna pretend like it didn’t happen?”, he was in disbelief over your feign oblivious attitude.

“Wow for someone like you, I'd expect a hug to just be like shaking hands with a stranger”, you replied.

“Well between the two of us, the benchmark should probably be you. Unless you just go around hugging everybody?”, he gasps this time, raising his hands to cover his mouth dramatically.

You chuckle at his acting and he smiles too.

“Aren’t you hungry... I got so hungry waiting for you”, he grouses.

---

Over dinner, Jungkook realised how fascinated he was with the notion that he is just sitting across from you. He held his food in mid-air, eyes fixed on you. That same trembling feeling in his chest appears again. He feels like he’s about to get a heart attack from just doing the most mundane things with you, things like walking, waking up or eating.

“Why are you staring at me like this?”, it was making you uncomfortable.

Your question snaps him out of his trance. “I wasn’t staring...”, he rebuked while choking a little.

You gave him a ‘yeah-sure’ face until he resigned, “fine... maybe I was staring... a bit.” His confession making you smirk subtly. “But you were the one who hugged me first...”, and he just had to throw it in teasingly.

It was your turn to choke on the food and you could only side-eye the petty boy sitting across you.

“Did it hurt a lot?”, his tone suddenly flipped entirely, taking a downturn.

‘You always hurt a lot...’, you thought but did not say out loud. Avoiding the question, you asked him whether he was going to sleep in the practice room again that night. “You can’t keep staying in the practice room...”, you griped.

He nods, “I’m planning to stay in the hotel for a while and I need to go back and pack some stuff...”, he mutters uncertainly. “But...”, he continued, stuttering, “... can you maybe...”.

“I’ll go with you. Let's go together after we finish eating”, you answered him casually.

He was starting to believe that you really had superpowers.

---

This was the first time you entered Jungkook’s house, it was what you imagined a chaebol’s house would look like and a little more. You realised that what the dramas have taught you were indeed true, the house was grand, but it felt lifeless, it felt cold.

He walked up a flight of stairs, stopping midway to wait for you as you were still examining the magnificent structure around you. You quietly followed him up to his room and your heart was beating crazy fast because, well just because, you were in his room.

“I don’t have much to pack, it won’t take long, you can just sit over here and wait for me”, he pulls out the chair in front of his computer desk and rolled it over to you.

“It’s ok, I can help you.”

He smiled shyly, the first time you sensed bashfulness from him, “Alright, if you really want to, why not you help me put those textbooks into my backpack.”

You complied and turned to look at his table, a stack of textbooks piled up at one corner. While you were at it, you noticed his extensive collection of comic books on the bookshelf. There were also a few pieces of drawings on his table, most of them of comic book characters.

You were done with packing all his textbooks and you secretly threw in a few comics for him. He told you to take the backpack downstairs and wait for him in the living room, “I’ll be down in a minute”, he assured you as you left his room.

The grandness of the living room seemed to amplify the emptiness of the house. You stood alone, not feeling comfortable enough to sit down and wait.

“Hi... You must be Jungkook’s friend...”, a female voice made your head jolt in her direction.

“Hi Mrs Jeon...”

She was pleasantly surprised that you knew she was his mother, and she reaches out her hand in a welcoming gesture. You were about to reciprocate by shaking her hand, when Jungkook appears and grabs a corner of your sleeve, yanking you away from her.

Her face falls almost immediately, more concerned than anything else. “Jungkook-ah... where have you been the past few days, you didn’t come home and I was worried, are you alright? Can we talk...”, she stammers, her lips were raised in a cautious smile but her eyes were full of sorrow.

“I told Grandfather that I will be staying in the hotel for a while”, he said emotionlessly to her. “Let’s go”, and his voice takes a gentle turn as he gestures for you to leave with him.

She didn’t try to stop him or say another word, but the look on her face somehow reminded you of him.

---

“Do you really hate her that much?”, you asked as the two of you sat in the taxi heading towards the hotel.

“Why do you say that?”, he knew immediately what you were alluding to.

“I mean I have seen you run away from her at the hotel, and just now you didn’t even let me shake her hand”, you chose your words rather carefully.

“I’m indifferent. And it’s not that I didn’t want you to shake her hand... I just didn’t want her to hurt you, like how I do.”

You peered at him silently. Since when has he realised this? That perhaps she felt the same way he did. He was still lying though, to himself. He wasn’t indifferent, he wasn’t entirely emotionless when it came to his family. But it wasn’t your place to push him to recognise it, you knew he needed time. Just like how it must have taken a long time for him to become like this.

---

The hotel suite was stunningly furnished. He didn’t bring over many things, so you busied yourself making some tea while he unpacked his stuff. He steals a glance at you and stealthily takes something out from one of his bags before walking over to where you were.

“I got this for you”, his eyes were flickering in the light, like a nervous little boy gifting a present to his first crush in school. You stared at the thing he was holding out towards you – a furry porcupine toy, around the size of a rugby ball.

“What for?”, you asked.

You could swear he was blushing, “Uhh... just to commemorate... you know... us? Take it”, he was waving the toy into your face out of his embarrassment. Never did he think he would be doing such a cheesy thing for anyone. Truth be told he actually got the present for you some time ago, he just never had the opportunity, or maybe the courage, to give it to you.

“It’s cute, but why a porcupine? Do I look like a porcupine to you?”, you asked as you accepted the plushie.

“Somewhat, you gotta admit you were quite prickly to me at the start”, he replied with a visible pout. It astonishes you how things have changed, you actually thought he looked innocent and cute.

“Hey, that’s not fair! You had a reputation and I just...”, you were prepared to defend yourself.

“Yeah that I admit”, he extended a finger in a thoughtful way, “anyway... it's me. This porcupine is supposed to remind you of me...”, he tapped his fingers on the fluffy-looking porcupine in your hands, poking its soft belly a few times, “... because I always hurt you a lot... and you can’t even touch me because I’m prickly like him.”

“So... what are you going to do about it?”, you demanded after a slight pause, raising your eyebrows.

“About what?”, he was stunned.

“About these,”, you pointed at the pricks made of fluff on the porcupine’s back, “Like I said, I’m not going anywhere. If you don’t want to hurt me, you have to do something about these.”

His laughter lingers only in his throat, “Must be fun for you to use all my lines against me now.” You also let out a muffled giggle as you start to realise how much you like it when he smiles.

“I'll think about it... about what I should do about these...”, he murmurs as he looked at you fondly but not without dejection, “... so that I can finally hold your hand.”

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s-horne · 5 years

Text

27. Ornithogalum (reconciliation)

There was a voicemail flashing on the landline when Steve returned home. Absentmindedly, he pressed the button to play the recording as he sorted through his mail, throwing some of the envelopes down into piles on the couch as he listened to his mother rambling on about something or other before finally confirming their dinner plans. Why the woman didn’t just text him like everyone else, Steve would never know.

The only reason that Steve had a landline was for his mom to use. Though everyone else used his cell, for some reason his mother had an aversion to texting. Steve didn’t mind all that much. If anything, he liked that they had something that was special just for them. Even if Steve was never in when Sarah called him and she ended up leaving a message for him nine times out of ten.

The message finished and the automated voice announced that there was also a second one. Steve snorted before it started, expecting to hear his mom’s voice changing the time of their meeting or possibly a butt dial of Sarah singing loudly whilst doing the dishes or sorting laundry. So when he heard a voice that he hadn’t heard for months suddenly amplified in his living room, Steve startled almost comically.

“Hi.”

Though the message started simply enough, even that single word was enough to bring Steve to his knees. God, that voice. Steve reached out and grabbed the arm of the couch for support as Tony carried on speaking.

“It’s me, Tony.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that; of course Steve knew who it was. Like he could ever forget Tony, the stupid, insecure man. That very voice coloured nearly all of Steve’s dreams.

“I’m at a bar.”

Steve huffed out a laugh at that; he knew that too. So far in the phone message, Tony had only said a few words in short passages, but Steve recognised the slur to his words and the pauses between each sentence as he thought carefully about what he was going to say next. The music in the background was a bit of a giveaway, too.

“I’m in Sacramento.”

And that was something else that Steve knew. He remembered all too well the day that Tony had come to him and said that he had gotten a promotion with his work and that he would be leaving within the month.

“I miss you.”

And, well, that was something that Steve did not know. He had no idea that Tony missed him; that wasn’t a thought that he would ever let himself entertain. It hurt too much. It opened too many possibilities, too many hours put at risk where Steve was in real danger of doing very little but dreaming about Tony turning up on his doorstep and begging him to take him back.

He and Tony had been together for a few months. From the start, it had very much been more of a ‘they’d fallen into bed when drunk once and never really defined the relationship’ than a real boyfriend and boyfriend adult relationship. Steve hadn’t known that he had meant anything to Tony outside of the bedroom, though he’d wished in secret. There had been so many nights where Steve had lain awake and watched Tony asleep next to him, carefully memorizing every line on his face and every tiny flutter of his eyelids. The few dates that they’d gone on were crystal clear memories in Steve’s mind and there was even a shameful photo album saved on his phone of pictures of Tony, and Tony alone.

“I think about you every day.”

Tony’s voice brought Steve out of his thoughts and back into the room. He shuffled himself from the arm of the couch until he could drop down onto the cushions, envelopes crinkling below him as he sunk into the comfort of Tony’s voice washing over him.

“I think about you every day, every time that I walk past a book store or a bakery, a bar or a library. Everything that I see reminds me of you, no matter what it is. Did you know that I almost didn’t get on the plane?”

Steve jolted at that, his mind moving at a hundred miles an hour. Was it really true that Tony almost didn’t go? Tony had left so easily, coming to see Steve once to tell him that he was leaving and then just walking away without a pause in his step. Nothing had ever really seemed to bother Tony, and normally Steve admired that. That day, though, Steve could have done with some emotion.

Anything other than Tony walking away with no hesitation after breaking Steve’s heart into roughly four hundred pieces.

“But then I did, because I knew that you didn’t want me around anyway.”

And what was that supposed to mean?

Steve blinked and stared at the answering machine as though that held all of the answers. Since when had it been that Steve was the one who didn’t want Tony? That wasn’t right, that was not the right way around at all. It had been Tony who had walked out so easily, made the decision with no thought for their relationship and the wonderful thing that it could have become.

Tony had been gone the next week.

To Steve’s mind, California was not that far away at all and Steve had been more than prepared to suggest the long distance thing as soon as the word Sacramento left Tony’s mouth, but apparently Tony had already decided that that wasn’t what they were going to do. Nope, he had just cut and run.

“You wanted a clean break. But it didn’t work, not for me. I could never move on, I couldn’t forget.”

Neither could Steve, he thought incredulously. He wouldn’t have admitted the small wave of thrill that he got from Tony’s confession to anyone, but he felt it. It was probably sadistic of him, but the feeling was especially strong when Tony’s voice broke as he spoke. Steve got a tiny rush of something from just knowing that he did actually have some effect on the other man, an effect that he had not known he had had when they had been together.

It showed that Steve had meant something to Tony, that his love hadn’t been as entirely unrequited as Steve had cried about for so long.

“I still remember what we did,” Tony spoke again. He went quiet for a moment and the sounds of the bar behind him got louder until there was a deep sigh. “I remember the kisses, the touches. I still remember the way you taste.” Tony’s voice had dropped to a frankly obscene husky whisper and, coupled with the soft confession, his speech stopped Steve in his tracks. He was torn between crying and being ridiculously turned on, and he wished he could say that it was a new feeling. Unfortunately, when one was in love with Tony Stark, it was a battle that occurred quite a lot.

“I think about you all the time,” Tony continued and Steve slid his hands under his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for the phone. He didn’t know if he would delete the recording or press redial.

“I think about you when I go to bed, I think about the noises you would make for me and the way that your skin would flush under my touch. I remember the way you’d laugh in a morning when you woke up first, teasing me that you would have to leave me there alone and go for your run unless I could find another way to exercise. I still think about that first night we spent together, the second night, and the last night. I wish we could have more; I wish I could still be the one to swallow your moans, to soothe your cries. I want to make you laugh, want to be there when you come home.”

Steve felt tears well up in his eyes and the urge to stand up and grab the phone got even stronger. He wished that he had the strength to stop the recording from playing, but he knew that he wanted to do the stupid thing of calling Tony back to beg him to come home even more.

“Steve, I…”

It was then that Steve lost it. At the sound of hearing his name in Tony’s voice for the first time in months, he crumbled forward as though his strings had been cut.

“I love y–”

Steve jumped up at the sound of the machine’s message ending with a cruel beep and almost screamed when the options for the message were listed instead of Tony finishing his words. Tony had just been about to…

No, he can’t have been. Steve heart was beating out of his chest, had he really been saying that?

No, no, he couldn’t have been, Steve thought desperately, frantically. Tony was drunk. It was just the drink talking.