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aqua-loves-writing · 7 months

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Chapter 4 part 4 is here!

CW: violence, blood, death

After the ground they stood on stopped quivering, they ran ahead to the path in front of them. The roar from earlier must have been from the dragon.

Please be safe. Please be safe. Please be safe.

After a while, they reach a point in the tunnels, where small rays of light shined through the edges of a hidden door.

“Do you think this is it?”

“Leave it alone!”

“Shut it, peasant!”

Before she was able to open it up, two voices screaming at each other burst into their ears.

“Miss, you don’t have to be involved with this. We could go find the evacuation route and you’d be safe to run away without getting caught.”

Despite the things Nexus said, she kicked the door open and made her way insides.

“Alright then. Let’s head on-”

He bumped into her back, “Ouch, is something the matter? Why are you standing like-oh?”

She kept looking around the area. A gigantic cave like room, over hundreds of soldiers could be brought here and there’d still be room for more. The cell rooms, whose iron bars were rusty and bent, were empty. The rough floor was covered with broken chains and shackles. Someone must have crushed them with a powerful weapon. She kept running all over the place, unable to find any sign of a living being.

“Hm, I should write down a report to the emperor about this.”

“I can’t believe this. Everyone is gone. Actually gone. But how? And when?”

She kept walking in circles, trying to figure out what had happened.

Let’s see, it has been a few hours since I’ve seen Mister Miroslav and I’ve gotten the keys to get off those chains. He was distracting the emperor, who later on came to that dragon’s cave. So he must have been brought back here. I don’t see any guards either, and I can’t recall if everyone was called to the ceremony. Maybe they managed to escape when no one was looking? Or maybe they knocked them out? Did he plan this out or something? I haven’t talked to him for a few days, but there’s no way he managed to come up with such a plan in only a few days.

As she kept things through, Nexus just stared, walking in circles alongside her.

“Miss. I apologize for interrupting your thinking sessions. But you might get dizzy if you keep this up.”

“Dizziness is the least of my problems at the moment, and why are you so calm about this? For some knight of miracles, you’ve barely been acting like one at all.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“First, you just show up to me, saying you’re going against your boss's order to help the prisoner. Second, even after I knocked out several people, you didn’t arrest me and acted like I’ve done nothing wrong. Third, for whatever reason, you brought the keys for the cells, for some reason, and then you still call yourself a knight?! Just spare me the headache and tell me what’s your deal, are with or against these guys?”

He simply tilted his head hearing all that, “A yes or no question? I can’t really answer it like that.”

“Really now-”

“But I can give longer answers.”

She decided to tolerate it and hear him out,

“First of all, and I must admit it, it’s quite selfish, but the reason I’ve brought the keys with me, and went against the general, was simply to free someone. An old friend that I’ve wronged once."

He began walking around, her suspicions rising. “I know it sounds strange, but it’s true. He was caught while I was still young, and I wasn’t able to do anything about it. So I thought I could use today as my chance to free him after the ceremony. Though everything with the dragon, I must admit, was a pure coincidence.”

“Uh-huh. That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“You’ve got me there. You see, I do think myself a knight, not in my appearance, but in my values and morals.”

I don't even want to know what those are.

“However,” he turned his gaze away from her, “I do want the Emperor Dead.”

She stumbled back, hearing what he said. “Excuse me?”

His posture was the same, back straightened, holding his hands behind his back. It was hard for her to see if he meant anything he had said.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it literally,” he turned back, his uneasy smile on his face, “So, truthfully, I just want to free someone dear to me, and I wouldn’t mind helping others as well. Though the latter seems to be over and done with,” he giggled.

She distanced herself from him.

“I’ll leave you after this is over and done with, miss! The dragon and the general still pose a threat to the runaway, so I hope you’ll still have me for just a little while-”

“Hiss!”

Another sudden shout had echoed through the enormous cave. The ground quivered. The remainders of the prisoners' shackles kept vibrating. Nexus almost fell, but Alice managed to catch him.

“Fire.”

The sound of bow strings, arrows landing on the rocky ground. A long scream. coming through to her.

“Was that hi,?” she ran towards the source of those noises, leaving the strange knight behind.

“Wait for me, miss!”

She finds herself near the entrance of the room. Hiding behind a mine cart, she watched the scene unfold. There were two sides. One was General Benedict, his soldiers behind readying their bows. On the other was Miroslav, an arrow through his leg as he was under the protection of the dragon.

“What are you doing?” her old friend shouted. “Fly away already! This is none of your business!”

“Silence you peasant,” the general scoffed, the dragon still growling at them, “And you-fire away, soldiers!”

No matter how many times they tried to shoot at it, it simply burned down their arrows to ashes.

“Sir,” one of his soldiers yelled out, “We’re going to run out of arrows at this rate. Should we maybe use our own flames to fight?”

“Are you insane?” the general shouted. “Do you want to spite the gods?! I don’t think so! Go grab more arrows if you’re that desperate!”

“On it, sir!”

The battle kept repeating itself, more blood coming from her friend's leg every second.

Crap. It doesn’t look like they’re going to stop anytime soon, and I doubt I’ll be able to get him out of her without being noticed. Maybe I should use my flames. No, it’s too risky. I’m too tired and their arrows could quickly strike me. Plus, I don’t know if it’s safe enough for me to reveal myself yet. What to do-

“General!”

All the attention was taken away from the fight. The guards stopped shooting, and the dragon began growling at someone else. They were all focusing on the knight of miracles, who was pulling up his dress as he bowed down.

She was gripping her helmet, “What. The. Hell. Is he doing?!”

“What the hell are you doing?” they asked almost in unison. “Shouldn’t you have evacuated out of here ages ago? And where are your guards? Have they’ve gotten in a fight with the escapees or-”

“No, sir!”

“Then what are you still doing here? Why didn’t you get out of here?!”

Please come up with a good excuse! It can’t be that hard.

“Oh, that? Simply put,” he poked his own cheek, “I didn’t want to, is all.”

I will die today, won’t I?

“Didn’t want to!? Have you lost your damn mind?! And what are you doing shielding that beast and peasant!”

The dragon had gotten closer to Miroslav. growling at the people watching them.

“Oh that, I just want your clarification as to why you are threatening an innocent man and animal.”

“Innocent!” he kept shouting, “Because of that man, hundreds of prisoners have gotten away!”

“I see. That does make things complicated. But I do think we need to discuss things over with a judge and jury before we get violent!”

“Oh shut up,” the general stepped in, pushing Nexus into the ground.

“As for you.”

The dragon tried to spit fire at him, but he dodged it. He was able to grab it by its neck, choking it slowly.”

“Leave it be,” Miroslav tried to stand up, but his injury persisted.

“How cute, pitying this abomination of living being.”

“Dear general, I wasn't talking about you.”

“Aw, are those your last words,” he lifted his sword, ready to attack him, “You’ll regret saying them!”

“Enough!”

Just as the general was about to go through Miroslav’s body, Alice managed to repel his attack, his sword stuck in her spear.”

“Agh,” the shock caused him to let go of the dragon, immediately using its tail to hit his head.

“General,” his soldiers yelled as he fell to the ground.

“Ignore me! Go after it!”

The soldiers all came attacking the dragon, who flew right at them. This gave Alice the chance to help Miroslav get up on his feet.

“Mister, are you alright?”

“Little one? Is that you?”

“Yeah and we need to go,” she carried him over her shoulder, “I know a way out, so be careful and-”

“We can’t,” he let’s go off her, slowly crawling on the ground, “He needs to get out of here”

“He,” in front of her, she sees the flying beast fighting the soldiers. “The dragon?”

“Yes, please. We-

“Have you forgotten about me?!”

The general stood up, aiming his sword back at her old friend, but Alice managed to shield him off.

“I don’t know who you are, but I have had it with you already.”

“Little one!”

“I’ll be fine! Just stay behind.”

While the two parties fought, Nexus managed to stand up, cleaning off the dirt from his skirt.

“Knight of Miracles,” the soldiers called out for him, “Please, in the name of Ignia herself, help us against this creature!”

“Hm,” he looks at them, back to Alice and the general fighting, then back to them, “Gentlemen, I apologize but I have my priorities!”

“What?” they were shocked enough to give the dragon the opportunity to bite their weapons, crushing them to pieces.

“You fool,” the general yelled out, “Whose side are you on?”

“The side of the sick!”

Walking formally next to the fighting duo like it was nobody’s business, reaching his hand out to Miroslav.

“Want me to look at your injury, kind sir?”

“You,” he crawled back,his arms clearly shivering, “Do I know you?”

Nexus ignore that, “That doesn’t matter. Please let me take a-”

“Get away. I need to help it.”

When Miroslav tried to crawl his way to the dragon, Nexus grabbed him.

“Mister, please,” Alice yelled out while she was still fighting, “I’ll take care of the dragon, you just stay there and relax.”

“As if I’ll give you the chance!”

She kept on fighting him, even as she got more and more exhausted. She ducks down, trying to stab him in the stomach, he deflects it. Meanwhile, the dragon was able to knock out every single soldier, so it flew towards the two.

The general scoffs, kicking Alice in the stomach while using his sword to deflect the dragon's flames. He picked up her staff, with which he hit the face of the dragon, causing it to hit against the walls.

“Crap.” Alice was too exhausted to stand up or to use her powers.

“Now, who’s gonna go first? The traitor, geezer, or beast?”

“General, please,” Nexus called him out, “Isn’t this unnecessary?”

“Shut it brat! This day has been exhausting already, and my patience is waning.”

He looked at Alice, who was struggling to get up.

“I don’t know what your deal is, but you annoyed me the most. What will your last words be?”

She tried getting her staff back, but he kicked it away.

“Have a nice rest.”

Her eyes were wide open. Blood splattered across her chest. Her body was frozen, she was only able to move up her arm. When she tried to reach it out, Miroslav pulled it down, with a sword going through his heart. He smiled, “You’re too young for this.”

He pulled the sword out, “Pathetic.”

“No, no, no no!”

She grabbed his body, shaking it several, “Mister Miroslav! Hey, can you hear me? Mister please!”

She looks over at Nexus, who tried to stop him but failed. The general began approaching the dragon, its wings widened as he watched.

“It’ll be fine! I promise, mister! We’ll stop the bleeding! Carry you outside, get you to a medic, and you’ll be all fine!”

“Child-”

“Look, there has to be some sort of spare cloth! Nexus, come here. Your dress should be good enough! Just keep your eyes.”

“Little one-”

“It’ll be fine! The exit is near, and you can go see your family again! It might be difficult but I’ll bring you to them! Just hang on for a bit! You’ll get back home! I promise-”

“Alice.”

After he said her name, he coughed up a ton of blood.

“Please,” his body got colder, “If you are going to help me, do this instead.”

His shaking hands pulled out the golden locket, its necklace covered in blood.

“Go to the capital of the fire region, Ashenwood, and bring this to my daughter Teodora Blazeheart-ahh!”

“Mister!”

“Please, this is all I ask of you!”

Her gaze kept shifting between the locket and his face. Gritting her teeth, she decided what to do, “I will bring this to her. I promise.”

“Thank you,” just as he gave her the necklace, his arm fell, and all life left his body.

She carefully put his body down, closing his eye for him. She got back at her feet, grabbed her staff and walked towards the general.

“Wait,” Nexus grabbed her arm, “I’m sorry-”

She shook him off. “You tried to stop him, right? This isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“It’s his.”

With no other thought in her mind, she ran facing the general, who was aiming his sword at the still frozen dragon.

“Would you shut up?” the general faced her, just holding his sword sideways. which she kept hitting over and over again.

“What do you think this is going to achieve? He’s already dead.”

Her hits became weaker and weaker. He simply stood there, scoffing at her weak attempts.

“I’m getting bored. Can’t you shake up things a bit-”

She grabbed his arm, pulling his body to her.

“You asked for it!”

Blue flames flared up within her hands, reaching the ceiling of the enormous room. She began choking him. As he gasped for air, he tried to get off her grip, but he already fainted by then. She dropped him on the ground. Picking his sword off the ground and breaking it in half.

She looks back at Nexus, who didn’t do anything to stop her. “Was that enough for you?”

She takes off her helmet. The world could now see her red teary eyes, “I wish,”

She then looks at the dragon, using its wings to try to wake Miroslav up. She carefully approaches, reaching out her hands to touch him. “Hey-”

His tail slapped her hand, “Hiss!”

He flies up, lava flowing through his teeth. With a gigantic blast of fire, a giant hole appeared in the walls. He flies through his, his wings brushing off the long leaves of the nearby trees. Only a small shadow of his could be seen amongst the dark violet sky.

“Miss."

He tried to catch up to Alice, who was going through the hole. Her steps were big and slow, her vision got blurry. She fell to her knees before completely getting knocked out. She escaped, but was it worth it?

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crimsonsrecordshislife · 11 months

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Well well well.

I’m actually somewhat keeping up! This is a nifty surprise, lol. So, to start off, I wanna state that, while I doubt people are actually going to see this for a while, I’m actually having a fairly nice time writing!

Now, as of writing this segment it’s 9:03pm and my battery is at 93%. Nothing significant there, just thought it was a little silly and ironic that battery and time are matching eachother. I saw a friend/classmate at the park today, that was pretty cool. I’m not really used to people interacting with me at the park, not that I mind. I use that time to kinda destress and take a moment away from people. I usually end up singing, too! I’ve been getting ready good at sing “Outliars and Hyppocrates: A Fun Fact About Apple” by Will Wood, “Labyrinth” by Miracle Musical and “The Mind Electric” also by Miracle Musical. A song that I’ve been definitely vibing with is “Wet” by Dazey and the Scouts. I dunno why, it’s kinda sad and very sexual, but it’s actually a vibe. It took me a couple listens through before I was like. “Hold up, lemme look at the lyrics,” then I was mortified.

I’m not looking forward to tomorrow at school at ALL. I cannot wait to be done with school for some reason. I, unironically, love school. Home life is pretty chaotic, and school is verily structured, so it kinda helps with my Autistic Brain. But, tomorrow, we’re gonna be reading a short story that is apparently way worse than the one we read yesterday. And yeaterday’s made me want to throw up. So, I’m am, to say the least, scared. But, I know, when I’m done with school, I’ll have my amazing partner to talk to! So, that’s something to look forward to!

I know that these seemingly keep getting longer, but I’m wanting to get better at journaling. Eventually, I plan on keeping an actual journal. However, until then, I’ll have to settle for this! Which, isn’t actually really bad, but I’ve always wNted to keep a proper journal. Something I can write in or draw in or scribble or whatever! Something that I could pour any thought into, because not all my thoughts are sane. I’ve had friends look at me and go “HOLY FUCK DUDE, ARE YOU MENTALLY OKAY?” And, like, obviously the andwer is no, but then I feel shitty cause, like. My bad I’m stating something that I personally don’t see an issue with. Which, isn’t entirely my fault, sometimes I have a difficult time understanding what’s socially acceptable to talk about because of my Autism lmao. Social Skills actually do not exist. But, I just think if I have a proper journal, I could pour thoughts into it, no matter how obscene, vulgar, sexual, insane or the like they may be!

Anyways, with that being said! I think I’ve rambled and exposed myself long enough, I must bid uou all adieu! As of now, it is 9:19pm and I have the absolute munchiest of munchies

#autism spectrum disorder #autism #journaling #journal #mental health awareness

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sope-and-shine · 2 years

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Feelings In Major - Part 3

-> PAIRING: PIANIST!YOONGI X VIOLINIST!READER -> SFW(PG-13) // FLUFF, ANGST // S2L -> WORD COUNT: 10.8K -> SUMMARY: IN A KINGDOM WHERE MUSIC RINGS FROM THE LOWEST DUNGEON TO THE FARTHEST MOUNTAIN PEAK, IT’S NO SURPRISE THAT EVERYONE WANTS A CHANCE TO PLAY FOR THE ROYAL FAMILY. HOWEVER, ONLY ONE CAN BE CHOSEN, AND THE ROYAL MUSICIANS WERE THE BEST OF THE BEST. THE ONLY OBSTACLE THAT STANDS BETWEEN YOU AND BEING ONE OF THEM, IS YOUR COMPETITION AND YOUR STAGE FRIGHT. IT WILL TAKE A MIRACLE TO GET YOU ON THAT STAGE…OR JUST A GRUMPY PIANO PLAYER. -> WARNING(S): FEM READER, MILD LANGUAGE, MILD VIOLENCE, IRRATIONAL MEN, READER HAS IMPLIED THOUGHTS OF SA TOWARDS YOONGI’S INTENTIONS AT FIRST(YOONGI IS A GOOD GUY - THE BEST GUY - NO WORRIES, NOTHING ACTUALLY HAPPENS), SELF DOUBT, YOUR DAD IS A BIT OF A DICK

a/n when I started this idea over a year ago, I did not anticipate actually getting to the part where I post it. I still have 6 of these to go, but I’m honestly really proud that I’ve actually done this.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Masterlist

Most brides when they see the white of their dress think of the new chapter in their life they’re about to begin. They think of this light washing over them that greets them into the world of marriage. They think of all the possibilities the future holds in store for them. But you don’t think of any of those things. You can only think of one thing when you see the color of your dress.

Piano keys.

You can see them laid out in front of you, playing along to a melody that has only seemed to become softer as the days go on. They’re played by long, slender fingers your hands have become so used to holding. You think of how soft they are, how they envelope your own. You think of the way they write on parchment, discarding one sheet after another.

You think of him.

Yoongi.

The man who you’ve slowly fallen in love with.

The man you’re not marrying today.

“Alright, the guests were finally able to make it through the square. We’ll give them a few moments and then we’ll join them.” Your Father explains as he enters the room. He’s wearing his best, and he stops as soon as he sees you dressed and ready to go, “Oh, you look beautiful.”

He places a hand on each of your shoulders with a proud, adoring smile, but you don’t even recognize your reflection in the mirror. The lace gown is only just nicer than regular formal wear, something your parents splurged on for your big day. It’s collar just shows off the top of your chest, a simple, ornate necklace on display. You can see it just through the veil that’s been drawn over your front. You look exactly how a bride should look on her wedding day, but you don’t feel how a bride should. You should be beaming and jumping in excitement, but you aren’t.

Nothing about today is for you.

“Thank you.” You try your best to seem happy and content, but it’s hard when you’re only moments away from sealing the rest of your future. Your Father can see right through you.

He moves a hand to your face and moves a stray strand behind your ear, “Dear, you’re getting married. You should look happy.”

“I am happy.” You assure him, but your words are empty.

He shakes his head, “You don’t look it.”

“Well, I’d be much happier if I wasn’t being forced to marry someone.” You mumble, intending to keep it to yourself, but he heard you.

“We had a deal-” It’s not the first time he’s tried to defend his decisions to you in the past month. He’s started a million explanations this way, and you’re tired of hearing him try to win your favor! You’re tired of him casting your feelings aside! You’re tired of him acting as though he did nothing wrong at all!

“-and you broke that deal the minute you broke my violin!” You interrupt, blowing up in anger. Your Father takes a step back, surprised by your outburst. You’ve never been one to outwardly express your anger, and even when you have in the past, it’s never been this extreme. You’ve always been soft spoken and precise, saying what you needed to and then remaining neutral. But there’s only so much one person can handle, “You didn’t even give me a chance…”

He tongues the inside of his cheek, “We gave you plenty of chances. You didn’t take them.”

“You didn’t listen!”

“You were fooling around with a man who wasn’t your husband, like some harlot! He wasn’t even courting you!” He scolds, reminding you of the position you put yourself in. At least in his eyes, that’s the way it seemed.

“He was helping me!” You argue, a defense you’ve been pushing ever since that day they found you and Yoongi. But he hasn’t listened to you yet, and he won’t be starting now.

Your Father scoffs, “Oh, it looked like he was helping you, alright.”

You say nothing in response. You always lose your words when it comes to him, because no argument you make will ever be good enough for him to ever listen to you. And what hurts more is that he won’t even take your character, one he’s watched grow since you were a baby into account for everything. He’s thrown your happiness out the window, and he’s throwing you out with it as well.

He takes your silence as a win and sighs, “I’m done talking about what’s in the past.” He reaches for the veil atop your head and pulls it over your face, “You’re getting married to Lord Kang, and then you can get over this.”

“So, my happiness means nothing to you anymore?” You ask, your numb gaze barely hidden by the curtain he’s placed between the two of you. A symbol of the wall he continues to create to push you further and further away.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself. Instead, he fixes his posture, “I won’t hear any more nonsense from you.” He takes your arm in his and pulls you to his side, holding tightly to your arm as if he’s afraid you’ll run away at any given moment, “Now, I better see a smile on your face when we make it to the church.”

“Whatever you say, Father.” You answer in a monotonous tone, casting your head to the door and your eyes to your feet.

The way to the church should be happy. It should be exciting and leave you giddy because you’re just teeming with excitement to spend the rest of your life with someone you love! But the walk from your home to the church feels like a walk to the gallows. You feel as though once that ring is placed on your finger, you’ll have the carpet ripped out from under you. What makes it even worse is the joyous cheering from the competition. You can hear the crowd as they cheer and clap, and you listen as they welcome their next performer. You listen as the song starts, and it’s the 5th selection. It’s the piece you’d wanted to play so badly at first, but Yoonig forbid you from playing it. He said it was too easy, too safe, and too expected. He said that too many people would play it, and it didn’t matter how beautiful it was. He said that after hearing it so many times, the crowd would dull like a blade. And with every step, you come to realize just how right he was.

It’s repetitive, plain, and boring. It doesn’t give life or variety. It’s just a simple melody that everyone knows. It’s something familiar that you enjoy, but it’s nothing new. Even when someone else plays it, it’s still the same melody and adds nothing to the selection of musicians. It’s a safe option, but it’s not the best option. But it’s far too late to back out now.

For you and the performer both.

Part of you is glad that, at least if you’re being forced to do this, that you at least have your Father to hold onto. You still have him there to keep you grounded, even if you’re still furious with him for the choices that have led you both here. It’s hard holding back your tears, but they threaten you with every step you take towards your fiancé. With every step, you leave behind the life you want for a life that you can never get rid of.

“And who gives this woman away?” The priest asks when you make it to the end of the aisle.

“I do.” Your Father answers. He reaches out for Lord Kang’s hand and pulls you toward him, bringing your hands together for him to lead you the rest of the way to the altar.

“Very good. You may all be seated.” You hear everyone move to sit behind you, your Father joining them as well. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we gather here today to join these two in Holy Matrimony. Now, before we begin, if there is anyone here with reason as to why these two should not be wed, then you may speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You hold your breath, knowing that if you let it out too soon that you may be the person to object your wedding. You instead busy yourself in the silence of the room, waiting eagerly for someone to interrupt it or for the priest to make it end. Outside, you can hear the muffled cheers of the crowd dying down as the next musician begins to play. It’s one of the more exciting pieces from the competition list. Your second choice that Yoongi was a bit more understanding of, but it still didn’t please his taste. Oh, what you would give to play it now.

“If no one has any objections, then we may proceed.” The priest announces after giving everyone ample time to come forward. You let go of the breath you were holding, but it gets caught in your throat again, “Lord Kang, please repeat after me: I, Lord Kan-“

“STOP!”

You turn as soon as you hear his voice, gasps leaving the crowd behind you. Jogging up the aisle, dressed in his performance clothing of the Royal Musicians with his hair combed back is Yoongi. It’s a bit messy and he’s out of breath, almost as if he ran all the way here. At his side, he carries a case. He stops just at the steps of the altar and takes a deep breath, “Stop the wedding. Please.”

The priest takes a hesitant glance between you and your betrothed and Yoongi, “Sir-“

“I object this wedding!” Yoongi interrupts, eyes so fierce with determination, he even takes you by surprise.

Lord Kang scoffs next to you, “On what grounds?” He looks Yoongi up and down as if he’s a child, looking down on him. He doesn’t seem convinced that Yoongi has any reasonable grounds for objecting. And he has good reason to be skeptical, because Yoongi has no ground to object.

Yoongi sees this and his lip quirks in a smug grin. He meets your eyes and points to you with his free hand, “On the grounds that this woman is already married to me.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, knowing very well that you and Yoongi never once uttered any marriage vows to each other. You look to your parents to see their reactions, and they look just as shocked as you feel. Your Mother seems almost heartbroken, and you can’t even begin to imagine what must be going through her head. Much less, you can’t imagine what’s playing behind your Father’s eyes.

A strong hand grips your bicep, Lord Kang pulling you towards him. His eyes are like daggers as he scowls at you, “What is he talking about?”

In this situation, what are you to say? That you don’t know why he’s talking about and continue on? To accept this as a sign of fate and run away? You have no good explanation for what Yoongi’s doing right now. Much less an idea of where to begin with them throwing you on the spot.

You shake your head and try to pull yourself out of his grasp, “I-“

“Get your hands off her, at once!” Yoongi demands, storming up the small staircase and pushing himself between you and your betrothed. He stands tall with his back straight, his arm thrown over your arm that’s been grabbed. He acts as a barrier between you and Lord Kang, ensuring that even if he were to pull you, you’d still bump into him before he could run off with you.

Lord Kang cranes himself over Yoongi, attempting to intimidate him with his size, “You dare try to stand between me and my bride?”

You grab onto the back of Yoongi’s coat with your free hand, scared that Lord Kang really will attempt to pull you from behind him. Or worse, he’ll try to hurt Yoongi just to get to you. But Yoongi doesn’t falter.

The musician remains tall, mustering every bit of confidence he has to stand his ground, “We got married in secret 2 months ago by a warlock. The Royal Librarian to be more specific,” He emphasizes, dropping a hint of his own importance and status. It startles Lord Kang enough for Yoongi to remove his hand from your arm and move the both of you back a few steps. But he makes sure to show no visible signs of retreat, “His magic is binding and that makes this woman my wife.”

Lord Kang looks furious, and he turns to your Father for an explanation as the crowd begins to mutter around them. You pull at Yoongi’s coat and whisper furiously, “Yoongi, what are you doing?”

He turns around, finally able to face you for the first time in months. His hand gently raises to cup your cheek, “I’m buying you time.”

“Yoongi, we’re not married.” You remind him.

“If you still have any faith in your dream-! If you have any faith left in yourself, then please come and play! Please don’t sign yourself away when you can still perform for the Royal Family.” He pleads, keeping his voice hushed so others won’t hear his plan.

“Winning won’t stop my marriage. He already has my dowry!” You explain.

“Then you can pay it back to your parents with your winnings!” He argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh, “I’d have to win first, and I’m not even on the list! I don’t even have an instrument to play either.”

He shakes his head, “Yes, you are. And yes, you do.” He drops his hand and lifts up the case he’s been carrying, making quick work of the latches to open it up.

Inside is a violin, brand new and polished. It’s body is a lighter color, and you can’t tell if it’s made out of rosewood or spruce. But you couldn’t care less about the wood type when you’re completely distracted by the Larches carved into the skin. They decorate the outline of the body, acting like a chain. Everyone is detailed and softly etched so it won’t disturb your playing. Something like this must have cost a fortune.

You softly trail a hand over the etching before you look up at the brave pianist in disbelief, “Where did you get this?”

“I made it.” He admits sheepishly, his ears turning a soft shade of red. He averts his gaze to the piece in his hands, “It took quite a bit of work, but I stayed up for days just to finish it for you. I even made sure to put you down for a time that we can play together.”

This time, it’s you who reaches out to cup his cheek, lifting his chin so he’ll meet your gaze. You search his eyes for anything, wondering what he must be thinking at a time like this, but all you can see is his sincerity. Thinking back on the first time you met, to end up here seems almost asinine, “You did all of this for me?” You ask.

“I-“ He opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself. It’s like he’s contemplating in his mind what he should say or how to explain his actions, but nothing seems good enough. He sighs, “We both have worked too hard to let this chance just slip away. You can still live out your dream.”

“You really think so?” You ask.

“I do.” He says. He takes a quick peek at his watch and his eyes go wide, “But if we want this to work, then we need to go.”

He starts to close the violin case, but you’re still left wondering what will happen here if you leave, “But the wedding-“

“Will be postponed until they can prove I’m lying.” He reminds you, that smug grin from earlier returning.

It takes you a second to realize that he’s right. They’ll have to get in touch with the officiant that orchestrated your ceremony, and that will still take days to finalize. If all works out, you’ll have already won the competition by then. Yoongi really did think of everything before he put his plan in motion, and you’ve never been happier to know someone like him. You can’t help but smile just thinking about it, “You really are a genius.”

“I know~” He teases, “Now come on.” He takes you by the hand and once again puts on a brave face for the crowd as you attempt to leave, “My wife and I will be going now.”

“Now, just you wait a minute!” Lord Kang steps in front of the two of you, putting a hand out to stop him. He tilts his head back, nose pointed upwards as he looks at Yoongi like he’s beneath him, “Her dowry has already been paid for! I’m not just going to let you walk away with her, nor will I give it back.”

“Then keep it. Unlike you, I can afford to marry a woman without treating her as a trade and still take care of her financially.” Yoongi assures him, “She’s my wife, so that’s my responsibility, but she’s not staying here with you.”

The Lord’s eyes narrow. It’s not hard to tell how entitled he is,especially when he gets face to face with Yoongi, “Who do you think you are?”

“I can be your worst nightmare if you don’t back off.” Yoongi answers, remaining strong despite his distaste for confrontation. He can feel you shaking behind him, and he squeezes your hand to comfort you. He doesn’t want to subject you to this any longer, so he takes a deep breath to ease his own nerves, “Keep the money you’ve been given. Just leave us alone.”

He pulls you behind him once again to go around Lord Kang, but the man makes no attempt to stop you this time. You think Yoongi’s actually done it when you hear your Father call from behind you, “(Y/n)-!”

Both you and Yoongi stop, looking over your shoulders to see your Father standing in the middle of the aisle, he seems angry, saddened, and embarrassed. You can only think of how this must have tainted your pride, and a part of you hates that you’ve put him in this situation. But it’s Yoongi’s comforting hold on your hand that has you remaining strong and resilient.

He gently tugs at your conjoined hands, “Let’s go. We can still make it.”

You spare one final moment of attention for your parents, before you turn on your heel and pick up the front of your dress to follow Yoongi out of the church. He stops just outside to help you grab enough fabric to keep you from tripping and holds it between your palms as you make your escape down the steps. You follow him down the cobblestone road, your heels clicking with every step you take. The wind tousles your pinned hair, a few pieces straying from where they were. But you pay them no mind.

You continue to let Yoongi guide you behind a large crowd, a contestant currently playing with another pianist accompaniment on stage at the very front. You can see her Lady and Prince Seokjin on their stand, watching the performance front and center. You can already feel the nerves building in your stomach, but you try to push it down like you and Yoongi had worked on before you were torn apart.

He leads you to the side where kingdom guards keep watch over the contestants. One of them seems to recognize him and moves to let him through, “Yoongi! There you are! What took you so long?”

“I had some convincing to do.” He simply says.

The guard turns his attention to you, doe eyes looking you up and down before he turns back to Yoongi, “Is this her?” He asks.

Yoongi’s grip on your hand tightens and you can see red rising to his cheeks once again, “We can do introductions later, Jeongguk.”

Yoongi pulls you along, Jeongguk waving after you. He drags you all the way to a tall man with brown, messed up hair standing by the stairs. A pair of wire rimmed glasses rest loosely on his nose as he stares down at a clipboard. A woman stands behind him on the first step onto the platform, resting her arms on his shoulders to read its contents.

The woman notices them approaching first, her eyes lighting up when she sees the two of you, “Yoongi!”

The man looks up as well, scrunching his nose to push his glasses further up. He smiles, “Hey! So, I’m guessing it actually worked?”

Yoongi looks to you and then back to the man, nodding, “Min (Y/n), please.”

The woman immediately starts looking over the list, running her finger down the participants while Namjoon reads over them. Both of them seem very unfazed, but you’re taken aback, “Min?” You ask, feeling a bit of heat rushing to your face.

“We’re married, remember?” He teases, shaking your intertwined hands. The simple action makes you smile, and you can’t help but giggle with him.

“Oh!” The woman roughly taps her finger against the paper, “She’s next.”

“I’m next?!” You ask in shock. You turn to Yoongi in a panic, “Yoongi-!”

He’s quick to set the case down and grab you by both shoulders, making sure to look you in the eyes, “Stop, okay? You can do this. I know you can do this, just as we practiced.” He does something you would have never expected from him, using one of his hands to pull your head towards his and press your foreheads together while the other rests against your waist. He holds you tenderly against him, eyes closed, “It’s just going to be you and me up there.”

You’re left locked in his embrace, eyes staring at his calm facade. He’s done everything he told you he hates doing all in one day. Confrontation, causing a scene, showing public affection, and even running. He’s done it all just for you. And even after all of that, he still stands here trying to comfort you enough to break free from your troubles instead of taking a moment for himself.

He makes you feel safe.

You ease into his embrace, your fingers grabbing onto the fabric of his coat at his waist. You accept the comfort he offers you and take a moment to relax. You think of all the advice he’s given you so far, and all the wonderful memories he’s helped you create up until this point. You want to win and continue creating memories like those, but everything will be for nothing if you lose.

You squeeze your eyes in frustration and pull him closer, “Yoongi-…what am I going to do if I lose?”

“I guess I’ll have to cough up the money for your dowry and you’ll just have to be married to me for the rest of your life.” He says. You open your eyes and find he’s already looking at you. He seems content with the idea, and he smiles when he sees the shock written across your face, “Think you can handle having someone as grumpy as me as your husband?”

You don’t know if it’s because you’ve become friends or if this is all a part of one grand gesture, but you couldn’t care less. Not if he was offering himself to you, “I think I could learn to manage.”

The music on stage stops and the crowd breaks into applause, and you pull back just enough to look. The man and the woman who’d checked you in take that as their cue to head up on stage themselves, but not without wishing you good luck over their shoulders.

“Here-“ Yoongi leans down and opens the case, making quick work in removing the violin before you really do have to go on. He hands it to you, “-Just remember that it’s only you and me, and no one else, okay? Just play for you and me.”

You nod despite the anxiety building up in your system. Then suddenly, an important realization hits you, “I haven’t even tuned!”

“First of all, you don’t need to tune. Even without tuning, you’d still play beautifully. Second of all-“ He flicks your arm, leaving a small sting behind as he feigns offense, “How dare you assume that I - Min Yoongi - would give you an instrument in a time crunch and not tune it!”

“Let’s give him another round of applause!” The man encourages the crowd, clapping her hands after the boy coming your way. Behind him, the pianist that was accompanying him also makes his way down. He makes eye contact with Yoongi, and he nods.

“Let’s welcome back to the stage, Royal Pianist Min Yoongi!” The man announces, clapping his hands for everyone to join along.

“I need to get up there. Just breathe and I’ll see you on stage.” He assures you. He lets go of you and makes his way to the stairs, going up halfway before turning around, “I’m proud of you.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond. He just continues on to the stage, waving to the crowd as they applaud for him. You watch him from backstage with your violin in one hand and your bow in the other, seeing him disappear to his piano just like that. He’s sitting down at his piano to play with you.

And you’re going to join him.

“And for our next contestant…Min (Y/n)!” The two cheer together. They look to you from their spots on stage and you feel the air leave your lungs. Every part of you wants to run, but you know you can’t. You can’t run forever.

So you close your eyes.

Take a breath.

And you make your way up the stairs, holding your violin and bow in one hand and your dress in the other. Looking over the crowd from the stage, it looks like there are far more people than you anticipated. You cast your gaze over the Prince and his Lady, taking note of their watchful eyes. You hope no one minds your attire for today, though you can’t hear any protests over the sounds of the cheering. You glance at Yoongi and he offers you a comforting smile.

The man and woman wave you towards them, bright smiles on their faces. The woman offers a comforting hand on your elbow, “Miss Min, what piece will you be performing for us today?” She asks.

You try your best to refrain from looking down, mustering up all the courage you can to look at her as she speaks to you, “The 7th piece.”

“That’s the hardest one! Only 3 other contestants have played it for us today.” The man says, making your heart drop.

It’s not that you weren’t aware the piece was hard, you just haven’t played the piece in a while. What if you forget what you were meant to be playing and you throw Yoongi off? What if everyone else did 10x better and you’re left looking like a fool for even trying. You’d disappoint everyone.

You’d disappoint Yoongi.

“I’m sure we’re all looking forward to hearing you play it.” The woman assures, squeezing your arm. She taps your elbow, drawing you out of your thoughts and offers you one last smile, “Please, do your best.”

You nod and she turns back to the crowd, “Min (Y/n), everyone!”

She, the man, and everyone else cheer once again, the two slowly backing away to exit the stage. They leave only you and your violin, and Yoongi and his piano. They leave the timing up to you, but you can already feel the nerves kicking in.

The eyes staring at you, the whispers finally reaching your ears. Even your own intrusive thoughts begin to sink in, and it makes your skin flare up like there’s a fire beneath you. It isn’t too late to back out. You’d just be the weird contestant who fled from her wedding just to flee from her other responsibilities as well.

You turn to eye your exit when you catch Yoongi’s stare from the corner of your eye. He sits with his back tall, hands ready on the keys, and waiting for you. He remains calm, and his eyes are only on you. He doesn’t look to the crowd, he doesn’t adjust his music, he barely even blinks. He just waits for you with a soft smile, like he knows there’s a war going on inside your head and he’s waiting to triage the broken parts.

You shake your head, squeezing the life out of the neck of your instrument, ‘I can’t do this…’ You mouth, your voice coming out in a hushed whisper.

You expect him to frown. You fully expect him to shake his head and tell you to go, but he doesn’t. He remains seated with that same, calming smile, “It’s just you and me.” He assures you.

That mindset is easier said than done.

He takes a deep breath. He emphasizes the intake and the release, trying to get you to mirror his actions just as he’s done before. He does it again and you try your best to mirror him, taking a few solid breaths of your own. He nods to your hands, and you get the message.

With a slight tremble, you gently separate your bow and your violin. You rest the body on your shoulder, tucking it underneath your chin. It eases the shaking of that hand, but the hand that holds your bow still trembles with uneased nerves.

Yoongi checks over his hand position once more - as he does start this piece - before he looks back at you, “The music. Fuel the music.”

He’d said that to you before, the day he’d dressed you up for his own personal enjoyment and sent you out to the streets. He’d said that if they can’t see you, then they can’t really say anything good or bad about you.

“But it’s not you that they’re judging. It’s the music and how you perform it. If you perform well, then you’re not bad. You might just not be the best, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

You try to let those words sink in, allowing the good memories to ease you. Everyone had cheered for a you they didn’t know. Everyone danced to a song they didn’t know was played by you. If they could do that, then maybe they’d do it again. And maybe it doesn’t really matter if they do or not. Even if you’re the worst performer today. Even if you perform so badly that they have to kick you off the stage, you’ll have done it. More importantly, you’ll have performed with Yoongi in front of the royal family just as you’ve been wanting to.

It’s now or never.

You straighten up and let your shoulders roll back, tightening the grip on your instrument to end the trembles. You give a firm, curt nod to Yoongi, letting him know that you’re ready.

He nods back and adjusts his position one last time. He meets your gaze one last time, lifting his head up and softly counting off for the two of you before dropping his head and striking the keys.

You count with him, listening as he begins the soft ballad. You only rest for a few measures, and then you’re to join him for everyone to watch and listen. You don’t want to turn around, but you know you’ll have to actually perform if you want any chance at winning.

So, you close your eyes. You let yourself feel the tempo. You try to imagine that you’re not on a stage in front of hundreds of people, but back in your clearing in the woods. You try to picture the night sky and the stars above you. You try to imagine that the wind blowing through your hair is the same cool air that kicked leaves into your hair and crunched under your feet. You try to imagine a Yoongi that doesn’t play the piano with you, but sits on a log with his own eyes closed as he listens to you play.

And then it is your turn to play.

Yoongi’s lone melody echoes in the air at the hold in the music. He looks to you, trusting you to continue on as it’s written in the piece. He knows you’re nervous, and he knows that this situation is quite literally a make or break for you. But he knows your talent, and he knows deep down that you want this more than you’re willing to let your anxiety rule your life. He knows that you can. He knows that you’re going to be just fine.

And then, the sound of your first note rings out as you drag your bow over the strings. Your eyes remain shut, but your face is relaxed in pure concentration as you focus on the music and not the crowd. Yoongi plays along with you, adding his own part to help guide and support the music and your thoughts.

And his playing puts you at ease, the familiar clacking of the keys furthering your mental paradise. It reminds you of his escape in the woods, a cabin where he can create without any disturbance. You can see the warm glow from his candles illuminating his face as he plays, head bowed as he lets himself feel the music that he’s creating. You can see his pleased smile when something comes together. You can see him so perfectly.

You don’t even notice yourself turning around, playing for the audience instead of only playing for Yoongi. You don’t pay attention to the hushed praise or the eyes that linger over you. You think of only one set of eyes that would bore holes into your head if he ever caught you out late at night. A pair of eyes that belong to the raven-haired, piano prodigy that plays alongside you as - not an acquaintance anymore, but - a friend.

Perhaps, he is much more than just that as well.

The thought makes you smile, and you want nothing more than to see the real thing for yourself. No more imagining Yoongi as he plays, but you want to see him. How could you miss such a wonderful opportunity to make a great memory when it’s right in front of you?

So, you turn back to him, leaning into the music and opening your eyes. You watch him as he plays along with you, his gold buttons and trim shaking as he performs. His movements are intense, but the music is nothing but graceful. The way he strokes and fingers the keys, making each note just as important as the last. He’s completely invested into the music, and it makes you smile to see him painted this way.

For a moment, he looks up to watch you as well, and he catches you looking back. He’s shocked at first, glancing between you and the keys, and wondering if you’re actually playing with your eyes open. But as he continues to play, and he continues to catch your stare, he can only beam with pride.

No one misses the smile that grows on the usually cold pianist's face, and they don’t miss the bright smile that adorns your own when you finally turn back to the crowd. Even as you continue to perform for the audience, you still have moments where it looks as though you’re only performing for him. And in your own way, you really are only performing for him.

But it’s because he’s encouraged you to perform for yourself first.

Your piece finally comes to an end, both you and Yoongi nodding to each other at the cut off. It’s clean and precise, and you can still hear it echo in the wind as people begin to cheer. And it takes you by surprise to hear their applause. You spent most of your performance focused on Yoongi, that you forgot you were performing for a real crowd.

You let your eyes roam over the crowd, taking in their pleased expressions. You take in their smiles and their words of praise. You look to the Prince and his Lady, and you swear it almost looks as though the Lady has tears in her eyes as she politely claps her praise.

“Wow! What a performance?!” The man from earlier cheers, clapping his own hands as he makes his way to you with the woman right behind him. He stops on your left and motions for everyone to calm down and waits until they’ve eased enough, “I think we can all agree that that was quite the show!”

“Very beautiful, indeed~” The woman agrees from your right, “Why don’t you take a bow?”

She and the man take a step back, leaving you to bow on your own. But how can you bow on your own when you didn’t perform on your own?

So you turn back to Yoongi, finding him preparing the bench for the next pianist. You wave to grab his attention, nodding for him to join you at the apron of the stage. He hesitates for a moment, knowing that this is your moment and that being the accompaniment is all he’s meant to be, but you insist.

He leaves the piano to join you front and center on stage, blood already rushing to his ears. He steps between you and the woman on your right, looking just as nervous as you probably do. You move your belongings to one hand so you can grab his, but he stops you. He gestures to you, smiling at the crowd as he patiently waits for you to bow. You oblige, placing your free hand on your chest as you bow to the crowd in front of you. And when you come up, it’s your turn to gesture to Yoongi for his own moment of recognition. You can tell he’s not used to being in his own spotlight, but he still has more performances under his belt than you. And when he finishes his bow, it’s him that makes the grab for your hand. He smiles, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, before leading you into a bow together.

The crowd cheers you on, and when you stand up again it’s the man that announces this time, “Thank you both for your performance today!”

You bask in the moment, hand-in-hand with Yoongi for just a second longer before you both make your exit off stage for the next round of performers. As soon as you make it off the steps and back to the performers tent, you immediately drop Yoongi’s hand to throw your arms over his neck. It takes him by surprise, but he accepts it nonetheless.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You cry, holding him tight.

“No need to thank me,” He assures you, letting his arms wrap loosely around your waist, “I was happy to do it.”

“No, you weren’t. Not for all of it.” You remind him, making him chuckle. You pull away just enough to look at him, and you cup his cheek with your free hand, “You helped me make my dreams come true today, Yoongi. That means so much to me, and there are only so many ways to say thank you. How else can I show my appreciation?”

He ponders for a moment, seemingly hesitant once again. Only this time, he says what’s on his mind, “Maybe, you and I can continue to be married even if you win?” He asks sheepishly, a tinge of red on his cheeks.

“Is that a marriage proposal? A real one, this time?” You tease, adding to the redness that’s already spreading over his face.

Even with the embarrassment he feels, he doesn’t let it stop him this time, “It is.”

You feel a mixture of happiness and embarrassment of your own at his answer. Of course, you’d love to marry him! You’d rather marry him than the man you were going to marry. You just can’t help how flustered the man makes you.

You use Yoongi’s hold on you to your advantage, loosely returning to his embrace and hiding yourself in his chest. He chuckles, but it’s cut short when you whisper for only him to hear, “Well, then I accept.”

Yoongi lets the news sink in, pulling you tighter against him and hiding his face in your hair when it finally hits him. He can’t help but smile, “I’m so proud of you.”

He pulls back again, moving one of his hands to push back a stray piece of hair. He lets his hand rest at the back of your head, meeting your gaze. His eyes flicker to your lips, and you let out a sharp intake of breath. He studies you, your eyes and your face for any signs or refusal, but you don’t show any. If anything, you want to find out just as badly as he does.

He leans in, slowly inching closer to your face until you can feel his lips in front of yours. He hesitates, and you know he’s trying to give you one last chance to back out. But you don’t need a way out anymore. You lean forward, making the move to press your lips against his. You grab onto the nape of his coat, but it’s short lived.

“Yoongi-! Oh…” You both pull away, turning your heads to see the man from the stage tight-lipped as the woman taps his arms.

“Namjoon!” She scolds, obviously upset that he interrupted a moment.

“I’m sorry, Nari.” Namjoon apologizes to her, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He looks to you and Yoongi and bows his head, “Sorry, you two…”

“It’s fine.” You assure him.

“Yeah, no harm done.” Yoongi agrees. He takes a step back and grabs your free hand before you can pull it back all the way, bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to the back of it like a promise. He lovingly smiles at you, looking through his lashes, “We have time.”

You can feel the heat in your cheeks and you try to push it back down, but it’s almost impossible to push down the pride you have in this moment. You both have grown so much in the months that you’ve come to know each other, and that’s something you never thought would be possible. Even more so, you never thought that you would both fall for each other after the history you’ve created together. But you’re happy that you have.

“Miss Min!” Jeongguk calls. You both turn to the guard as he approaches, slightly worried, “There’s guests here to see you, Miss Min.”

“It’s Mrs. Min.” You correct, taking Yoongi by surprise. You notice and laugh, “Don’t give me that look when you just proposed to me!”

“So, you two admitted it!” Nari cheers, clapping her hands together in excitement.

“We did.” Yoongi confirms, squeezing the hand he still holds. He turns to Jeongguk and nods in the direction of the tent entrance, “Who wants to see her?”

“Her parents.” He answers.

You tense at the mention of your parents. You’d done so well putting the wedding, the crowd, and everything else behind you that you forgot about the consequences entirely. You can only imagine what they have to say to you. Even worse, what they may do to you after learning that you “married” without their knowledge, and left the wedding they arranged for you. You can only imagine the amount of trouble you’re about to be in.

“Hey-“ Yoongi shakes your intertwined hands, pulling you out of your thoughts, “We’ll talk to them together. I got you into this mess, and I’ll see that you get out of it one way or the other.”

“Here, I can take that for you-“ Namjoon offers, reaching out to take your violin out of your hands. You move to accept his offer, but both Yoongi and Nari try to intercept it before you can successfully hand it off to him.

Nari brings it to her chest, turning to Namjoon with a gentle smile, “I think I should take this one, Joonie.”

Her smile does nothing for him though, as he’s still very offended, “I’m not going to break it!”

“I’d rather not take the chance.” Yoongi says, making you giggle.

Namjoon scoffs in response, crossing his arms over his chest, “It’s not like I can’t fix it.”

“We know, Joonie, but it’s probably for the best if you stick to your books.” Nari pats his arm. You know she means to comfort him, but the poor man doesn’t seem very comforted.

He pouts, “I feel very targeted.”

Yoongi chuckles and turns to Jeongguk, “Why don’t you lead us to them, Jeongguk? We probably shouldn’t keep the in-laws waiting.”

Jeongguk nods and turns to lead the way, Yoongi following after him with your hand held tightly in his. Before, you had both run away hand-in-hand from the danger your parents were bringing you, and now you’re walking towards it.

You see your parents just outside the tent, your Father waiting patiently with his arm over your anxious Mother’s shoulders. Though, their mannerisms switch when they see you approach with Yoongi. You try not to shrink when you see them, but you know you can’t help but feel smaller after everything that happened with them. You can only hope that Yoongi is still just as resilient as he’d been earlier.

“Here she is, folks. A very talented daughter with her very talented husband.” Jeongguk announces, moving the small wooden barrier so you and Yoongi can exit the tent to properly greet them. He doesn’t seem to notice the tense situation, but you, Yoongi, and your parents don’t make a mention of it. He smiles, “Make sure to be back before your next performance, Yoongi.”

“Will do. Thank you, Jeongguk.” Yoongi nods. He exits the tent with you, keeping you close now that you’re in front of your parents who don’t seem very happy to be there. He bows to them as his greeting and nods to a clear space just a bit further away from the crowd and the performances, “Should we move somewhere just a bit more quiet?”

“Of course.” Your Father agrees, deciding to remain civil.

For now.

Yoongi leads the way, holding your hand through the crowd. You do your best to stay with him, but it’s hard to walk with people stepping on the back of your dress every now and then. One tug has you almost tripping onto the cobblestone beneath you, and it’s a good thing Yoongi has a tight grip on your hand to keep you from tripping entirely.

“Here-“ He drops your hand in favor of grabbing the train of your dress. He bunches the fabric up in his hand until he has enough that it won’t get stepped on as you walk. You try to take it from him, but he keeps a tight hold on it. Instead, he wraps an arm around your back and places his hand on your waist to keep you close. His actions have the heat rising to your cheeks once again, and you can feel lightness in your chest just from having him take care of you.

You make it to the open area and Yoongi stops, turning you both around so you can properly speak with your parents. He doesn’t move his arm, nor does he drop your dress. He waits for them to speak.

Your Father stands tall, your Mother’s arm locked in his. His expression is stern, one you’ve become accustomed to in the past few months. Your Mother seems conflicted herself, but your Father’s expression is almost unreadable.

“I have almost no words to describe how I feel at this very moment.” Your Father says. This is how most of his “disappointment” speeches start, showcasing his own emotions to make you feel even worse. Where most men would find their emotions to be a weakness, your Father always managed to use his to his advantage. Especially if it meant he could sway a decision of yours. Only this time, there’s nothing he can sway anymore. This time, he’s the one that’s been swayed. “I’ve been humiliated in front of the public, taken advantage of by some swindler who bed my daughter, and lied to by my own kin. Have you no shame for what you’ve put me through?”

Shame.

That hits you hard.

You’d never planned to bring shame to your family name. Only pride and honor. You’d wanted to be the best violinist in the kingdom, not the worst daughter a set of parents could ask for. Not when they’ve given you so much. But you couldn’t afford to lose yourself either. You had an opportunity for you, and you took it. And while it may have been a selfish act wrapped in chivalry, it was still something that you’ve planned to do since the beginning. Something your parents had encouraged at one point as well.

“Father I never meant to hurt you-!” You try to explain yourself, but your Father raises his hand.

“I’m not finished,” He spits. You shrink back into Yoongi’s side, and he squeezes your waist. Your Mother gives your Father a pointed look, but he ignores her, “You’ve tainted my pride. I’m very likely going to be scorned for years because of your reckless actions!”

He’s not wrong. Everyone may be distracted by the competition today, and maybe even a few more days after that! But it will fizzle out, and then the vultures will come looking for something to tear into. They’ll tear into your parents, they’ll tear into you, and they’ll even tear into Yoongi. While his actions have brought you together and granted you an opportunity you didn’t think you’d have a second chance at, it’s created a domino effect. And sooner or later, all of the pieces are going to come crumbling down.

Just the thought of what people may say or do rattles you, and you can only hope that you win this competition. Otherwise, you’ll be defenseless for years to come. Forced to hide behind another to shield yourself from their tyranny. And your parents won’t have anywhere to hide.

Your Father’s anger is justified, but it doesn’t take the sting of his words away. Nor does it coming into the open help to dissipate his shaking voice, “And what’s worse is you’ve gone and done something so remarkable! How can I be mad when you’ve finally taken a stand and put your fears behind you?!”

It takes you a moment to process what he said. Had you heard that correctly? You turn to Yoongi, confused, but he’s just as confused as you are. You turn back to your Father in hopes of clearing the air, “What…?”

It’s your Mother who finally pipes up, a content smile on her face, “(Y/n)…you played so beautifully up there!”

“You watched me perform?” You ask, shocked to hear they’d been in the crowd. You hadn’t seen them from the stage, but you weren’t really looking at the crowd. You were far more focused on other things than scanning the crowd for familiar faces.

“Did you think we’d let our daughter run from her own wedding and not follow her?” Your Mother laughs. You’d thought that they’d disown you the moment you left the church. You thought after everything that happened, that they’d be more than willing to write you off and take their chances with the loss. But you never thought they’d come and follow you. “We watched the whole performance. Everything!”

“Though, I didn’t anticipate your husband would be up on stage with you.” Your Father grumbles, eyes glaring daggers at Yoongi. He didn’t know everything Yoongi had done for you. They still didn’t even know the truth behind that morning they found you with Yoongi. It isn’t right or fair for them to judge him on a lie! And if he’s to be your husband from here on out, then they’d need to know the whole truth.

“Right, about that-“ You start, but you’re stopped by Yoongi pulling away from you. He drops your dress, and you’re confused until he drops to his knees and lowers himself onto the ground.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, bowing as low as he can possibly go.

“Yoongi-!” He’s showing respect to your parents on the basis of a lie, and you can’t let him apologize for something that isn’t entirely his fault. But Yoongi doesn’t let you stop him.

“I should never have encouraged her to marry me so soon and without your blessing,” he continues, “I had hoped to court her properly, but I couldn’t control myself with a woman like her. Someone so kind, so beautiful, and so talented. Please, forgive me.”

Your Father eyes him, his demeanor unchanging. You look between the two, and you’re honestly worried your Father might take the chance to kick him while he’s down. But he’s much too prideful a man for that.

“Get up.” Your Father demands. Yoongi does as he’s asked, standing up once again in the face of your Father. He stares Yoongi down, thoughts racing through his mind that you wish you could hear. But they only come to you in the version of skin meeting skin. A harsh slap being brought down against Yoongi’s cheek.

“Father!” You cry. Your arms move to comfort Yoongi, but his right comes out to stop you from coming any closer. The pianist keeps his head held high in the face of your Father, but he doesn’t retaliate.

Your Father sees his resilience and sighs, “Let’s make one thing clear, Min Yoongi. I don’t like you. I don’t approve of you marrying my daughter, I don’t appreciate you going behind my back with her to do so, and I don’t appreciate you making me look like a fool in front of a family with such a high status.”

Yoongi nods, “I understand, sir.”

“But I can appreciate the confidence that you’ve helped her build and the encouragement you’ve given her to do her best.” He admits, much to your surprise. He seems almost accepting, despite what he’d said. He sighs, “And I suppose I can’t ignore the fact that you do take care of her.”

“He really does!” You assure him, placing your hands on Yoongi’s arm.

“Will you really pay back her dowry?” Your Mother asks.

Yoongi nods, “It’s my duty as her husband to do so. Down to the last copper piece.”

“If you do that and you continue to care for her and you make her happy, then-…” Your Father extends an open palm to Yoongi, “I suppose we’ll learn to accept this less than agreeable situation.”

Yoongi shakes his hand, and you can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around your Father, “Oh, thank you, Father! Thank you!” You cry. You pull away, letting your hands rest on his shoulders, “I promise, I’ll make you proud.”

“I know you will.” He assures you, leaning down to place a kiss against your temple.

Your Mother squeezes in for her own hug, squeezing you tight before she returns to your Father’s side, “Go on. You shouldn’t loiter around here when there’s more performances to be had.”

“Right.” Yoongi agrees. He bends down to grab the fabric of your dress again, “We’ll come find you when she wins.”

“Yoongi! We don’t know that I’m going to win.” You remind him, cheeks hot with embarrassment from his praise.

“I’m confident you will.” He argues, a teasing smile on his face. He wraps his arm around you as he’d done before and bows to your parents, “Until later.”

“Until later.”

The two of you make your way back into the crowd, leaving your parents behind. Of all the ways that conversation could have gone, you didn’t think it would end like it did.

“All things considered, I think that went very well.” You say to him, relieved that your parents weren’t entirely cross with you.

Yoongi nods his head in agreement, “I’m not dead, so I think it went pretty well.”

“Does your cheek hurt?” You ask, remembering that he didn’t let you check after your Father hit him.

He shrugs, “It stings, but that will go away before dusk.” He pinches your waist and you look at him, seeing a mischievous smile on his face, “I’ll have you for much longer.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and your first reaction is to elbow him out of embarrassment, “Don’t be so cheesy! It’s weird.”

“Why not? How is it weird?” Yoongi laughs, chuckling at your expense.

“Because it’s you!”

He scoffs, “Am I not allowed to woo you? And here I thought you liked my charming wit.”

You roll your eyes, letting your arms cross over your chest, “There’s no need to woo your wife.”

“I beg to differ.” Yoongi argues. He comes to a stop only a few feet away from the performers tent and pulls you towards his front. You gasp in shock, and he smiles, leaning down to place his forehead against yours, “You just wait until this whole ordeal is over with, then I’ll sweep you off your feet and show you just how charming I can be~”

“Yoongi-!” You scold, hitting his chest for being lewd in public.

“I meant proper courting!”

—-

As soon as it started, the competition finally came to an end. Many contestants performed, having traveled the kingdom from far and wide just for the occasion. Everyone did their best, and you can only hope that your best was enough for you. You stand patiently in front of Yoongi, brimming with nervousness and excitement all at once. Yoongi does his best to keep you calm, but even he’s anxious to know who would win.

The only people on stage are Namjoon - who you’ve come to learn is the warlock that “officiated” your marriage - and Nari. They talk to the crowd and entertain them as the Royal Family makes their decisions, Namjoon’s magic being what helps them to amplify their voices.

“Just remember, even if you lose, you still did exactly what you said you would.” Yoongi reminds you, hands rubbing up and down your arms as if he’s trying to warm you up.

“I know…” You try your best to listen to him, knowing that he’s right. But the sting of losing will still hurt in the end with or without him.

“Oh, what’s this? Thank you, Sir (name).” Namjoon suddenly says, his voice cutting through the hushed chatter of the crowd and the performers, “It would seem a decision has been made.”

“Here we go!” Someone squeals behind you.

“I’m so excited!” Another voice chimes in.

“I can’t wait to get up there when they announce my name.” Another boasts, making your breath hitch.

Yoongi pulls you into his chest and rests his head against yours, “Just breathe.” He encourages.

You do, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against his. No matter what happens, you’ll still have Yoongi either way. You’ll still have your parents, you’ll still have the confidence you’ve slowly built, and you’ll still have your violin. Losing will hurt, but maybe you’ll be okay.

“What am I going to do if I lose?” You ask, working to keep your breathing steady. It’s just so hard now that everything is starting to come together. And with it all coming in at once, it’s so easy to lose it all as well, “I’ve spent so long dreaming of doing this, and now it may not even happen.”

Yoongi wraps his arms around your front and sighs, “Then we’ll find a new dream for you.”

“With much insistence from Lady Yeeun herself, our new Royal Violinist is…” You can hear Nari pause, adding to the suspense of the moment. It almost kills you inside just waiting for her to call the name of someone that isn’t you. You just want her to rip off the bandaid and get it over with so you can get on with your life and find a new dream.

“Min (Y/n)!” Namjoon yells.

You can hear the crowd burst into applause, and the claps and whines of those around you. It takes you a moment to even register that it was your name they announced until Yoongi starts to shake you from side to side in excitement.

“You did it! I told you, you would win!” He yells, squeezing you and jumping up and down.

“I won?”

“You won!”

“I won!” You repeat, the realization finally sinking in.

You turn around in Yoongi’s arms to throw your arms over his shoulders, squeezing him just as tightly as he squeezes you. All of your hard work paid off. Every stupid exercise, every extra minute spent awake, and every painful moment of disappointment finally got you to where you want to be.

And he was there for all of it.

“Why don’t we get our winner on stage with us to take a final bow?” Nari asks the crowd, earning more cheers and hollers.

“C’mon-“ Yoongi pulls back and takes your hand, leading you to the stairs that lead to the stage, “They’re waiting for you.”

You hesitate, “Just me?”

“Go!” He encourages, picking up the front of your dress and offering you a nudge in the right direction.

You grab the front of your dress and do as he says, walking on stage once more, but as a winner this time. You can see the Royal Family standing just off to the far side of the stage, Namjoon and Nari standing in the center and waiting for you. They welcome you in between them at center stage.

“Please, take another bow!” Nari encourages, she and Namjoon stepping to the side to let you have your moment.

You do, allowing yourself to emerge in the feeling of the applause and the cheers for your win. After years of practice and dedication, you can finally say that you’ve accomplished your goal.

You stand up with a shy wave to the crowd, Namjoon taking this opportunity to slide in next to you, “Congratulations on your win! How do you feel?”

“Speechless.” You answer, truthfully unsure of what else you could possibly say. There was no word to describe everything you feel, “I really have no words for how I feel at this moment. I’m just so overwhelmed with emotion.”

“Well, perhaps you could provide us with a song that will describe your feeling to us?” Nari suggests, opening the stage to you for a final encore. The crowd seems to enjoy this idea as well.

“Can I really?”

“You can.”

You turn to the stage stairs to grab your violin, but Yoongi is already 3 steps ahead of you. He’s already walking up the stairs with your violin in hand to bring it to you, a proud smile on his face. You accept it from him, but you grab his sleeve before he can let go.

He knows what you want without you saying a word and frowns, “This is your moment.”

“I want to share it with you.” You plead. Had it not been for Yoongi, you would have never gotten this far. Had it not been for Yoongi, then you would have went through with your marriage today. Despite all of the personal progress you made to get where you are now, you would’ve have it if not for Yoongi. “We did this together.”

He smiles, feeling a bit bashful. It’s hard to ignore your request with you looking at him like that. He can’t help but give in, “Which rendition would you like to play then, Mrs. Min? Major or Minor?”

“I think…” You ponder which version you like more. The version you heard forever ago, once upon a time. Or the version you and Yoongi have added onto in the years that you’ve grown. A minor key invokes those emotions that play at ones own heartstrings but a major key? A major key makes you feel light and airy, as if you’re on top of the world. At this moment, you feel as if you’ve ascended into the stars, shining brightly above with the rest of them.

There’s only one answer to give him.

“I think - Mr. Min - that I’m feeling major.”

~ Fin~

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czenzo · 2 years

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On the Hunt – Chapter II

[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ]

summary: After Simon gets bitten in an unfortunate run-in with a werewolf, he and Penny desperately search for a cure before the upcoming full moon can force him to undergo an excruciating transformation. Lycanthropy comes with many other side effects, however – and not only is Simon soon to experience them, but Baz will surely be dragged into the mess, too.

words: 2115 rating: M

DAYS UNTIL FULL MOON: 5

SIMON

I can’t sleep properly.

By the time I got back to our room last night I’d been on the brink of collapsing, but once the panic died down and the room went quiet after Penny left, I couldn’t stop tossing and turning. It annoyed Baz just as much as it annoyed me – he actually put in a pair of earplugs after the first hour of my restlessness.

It’s hard to tell if he’s more pissed off with me than usual because he’s Baz, or because I’m now a werewolf and he’s a vampire destined to hate me. Maybe both.

I keep fidgeting and changing positions every few minutes. It’s too warm, I chuck the covers off my body. Now it’s freezing. I turn to face the wall, I get bored quickly. I turn to face Baz. He’s fast asleep. He never looks this peaceful while he’s awake, and even after eight years of sharing a room with him, I’m not used to it.

Somehow, by an actual miracle, I eventually fall asleep and get an hour or two of shut-eye in before I wake up to the sounds of Baz getting ready for the day. He showers, brushes his teeth, makes his bed, puts on his uniform, and does his hair, meanwhile I’m lying in bed, pretending to sleep.

“I know you’re awake, Snow,” Baz says as he’s pulling on his shoes.

“Lucky guess.”

“No one’s breathing is that uneven while they’re sleeping,” he says matter-of-factly. From where my head pokes out of my duvet he can only see my eyes; I scowl with them. I can’t tell if I’m more pissed off with him than usual because he’s Baz, or because he’s a vampire and I’m now a werewolf destined to hate him.

Maybe both.

“Are you actually going to get out of bed?”

I grumble my reply. I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say.

“You’re going to miss breakfast.”

And to that, my stomach growls. (Crowley, of all times to do that, it chooses now.)

Baz leaves soon after that, and I’m left to wonder if I’m hungry enough to warrant dragging myself out of the warmth of my bed. My stomach growls again, this time so aggressively that it actually kind of hurts, so I reluctantly roll out from under the covers and do the absolute minimum to get ready to go to the dining hall (i.e. putting on shoes).

Once I’m down there, the hall is too loud and I’m really not in the mood for socialising, so I scoop up as many scones and slices of toast my arms can handle and get Penny to pop a small mountain of those little packets of butter on top. She tries to talk to me about my, er– current predicament, but I’m honestly so focused on how hungry I am that I don’t realise she did until after I’ve eaten. I make a mental note to apologise to her about it the next time I see her.

I carry my scran back up to my room. Breakfast always solves a good handful of my problems, and this morning’s is no different. I’m less foggy and groggy by the time I’ve licked the greasy leftovers of the butter from my fingers, so I’m feeling a bit better about everything. (Cook Pritchard puts pure serotonin in those sour cherries, I’m telling you.)

I have enough energy to drag myself into the shower, which then wakes me up enough to get dressed. I think about going to class today, but as soon as I realise it’s twelve o’clock and I’ve missed a fair chunk of teaching already, I decide I may as well take the day off. Difficult personal circumstances are a decent reason for missing lessons, right?

If I were Penny, I’d make a to-do list of the things I want to get done today. If I were Baz, I’d just remember them and not need to write them down. I’m neither of them, though, so although I’m vaguely aware of some of the things I want to do, they’re not clear enough for me to remember or write down, so I decide I’ll do things the Simon way: I’ll wing it.

First course of action, though: I want to find my necklace. I feel a bit naked without it.

***

The Wavering Wood is a completely different place during the day. Last night it had felt like the setting for the opening of some horror movie, but as I wander through the trees in broad daylight I’m wondering why I was ever creeped out by it at all.

I try and retrace my footsteps – over to the Catacombs, where I hung around a tree thick enough to hide behind while Baz did… his gothic, vampire-y things in there, then once he came back out I’d followed him from a safe distance. I’ve done it so many times now that I’m an expert in knowing which bits of the forest’s detritus (Penny told me that’s what the floor is called) would make the least amount of noise when stepped on. I kept following him until he started making random turns, zipping through the trees so fast it was hard for me to keep up and stay hidden, and then eventually I lost the stupid git.

By the time I’m attempting to remember which way Baz sent me to get lost, I still haven’t found my necklace, so I just end up circling the vague area the wolf attacked me in. It doesn’t do much to help. I’d thought that the daylight would make it easier to find, but apparently not.

I’m wondering if it’d be worth climbing a tree to get a better view of everything when I hear rustling nearby – it’s a really tinny sound, as if it’s coming from further away than my ears are making it out to be, but it gets louder pretty quickly. There’s a series of snaps and crunches. Someone’s making their way towards me. I think about climbing the tree again, but I have a feeling whoever it is is moving a lot faster than I could scramble up that trunk.

I get a whiff of an expensive-smelling cologne, and then I know it’s Baz before he even emerges through the trees.

I feel my body take a step back without me telling it to. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Baz makes an exasperated sound. “I knew you’d come back here.” I frown. I’m really starting to question if the vampires-reading-minds thing is actually true. “You kept reaching for that stupid cross and looking all solemn every time you remembered it wasn’t there.”

Oh. Not mind reading, just very observant. Scarily observant.

“Keeping myself busy,” I reply.

“Surely a better course of action would be joining Bunce in the library?”

I feel itchy at the mere mention of that place. “Didn’t you agree to help too?”

“You’re far more obliged to assist her than I am. I’m not the one with the lycanthropy issue.” I’m squinting at him without realising, and he sighs. “You’d know what that means if you went to the library.”

“I’m just gonna” – I run a hand through my hair; Baz is doing a fantastic job of keeping me calm – “I’m just gonna find my cross first, and then I’ll go see Penny. Stop nagging me, alright?”

Baz stoops down and grabs something from the floor. He grimaces as he stands back up, dangling it as far away from him as possible. The sunlight catches it, and I realise what it is. My necklace!

Before I can grab it, Baz spins me by the shoulders and secures the clasp behind my neck. His fingers are freezing. Every time I flinch away from them, he lets out a little tsk.

“There you go,” he says, spinning me back around and glowering down at me. “Now you can stop moping.”

I’m not sure whether to say ‘thank you’ or ‘shut up’, so I just say nothing. The eye contact makes me feel a bit nauseous, so I’m glad when Baz finally turns and starts walking back in (what I’m assuming is) the direction of the main school grounds.

“Where are you going?”

“To get dinner, Snow. Don’t tell me you’ve managed to be out here all day without realising?”

Baz takes my silence as an answer and scoffs.

***

The dining hall is still just as loud as it was this morning, but I’m so keen to see Penny that I don’t really care. I load my plate up – sausages, mash, veg, gravy – and plonk myself down next to her at the table.

“Oh, so you’re not ignoring me, now?” Penny says as I’m stuffing my face with mash.

I wince and swallow the food so quickly it hurts. “Sorry, Pen. I didn’t feel right this morning, I don’t know what was up with me.”

“Being a werewolf will do that to you,” Baz mutters under his breath as he sits down opposite us.

I scowl. I’ve being doing that a lot, lately. “Shut up.”

“How are you feeling now, Simon?” Penny asks. The concern in her eyes makes the tension in my body melt a bit.

“Still a bit weird,” I say, stabbing a whole sausage with my fork. “Really fucking hungry. And proper tetchy.”

“Increased appetite and sensitivity.” Penny nods slowly. “Textbook symptoms.”

“Is increased moping one, too?” Baz asks with a raised eyebrow. I want to rip it off.

Penny gives him a look. “Stop trying to rile him up.” She turns to me, and now the concern in her eyes looks more like irritation. “I’ve spent hours in the library today, and you never showed up. How do you expect to fix this in time if you’re not going to help?”

I sigh. “Yeah, I know. ‘M sorry. But Baz didn’t help either, though.”

“Er, yes he did, Simon.” Baz looks as startled as I feel. Penny gives him another knowing look. “I saw you, even while you were trying to hide.”

He says nothing and pushes around a few peas on his plate. I wonder if he’s going to finish his food, and if I could clean it off for him.

(And first place for phrases I never thought I would say goes to…) “I’ll go to the library after I’ve eaten. Try ’n make up for getting nothing done today.”

“Why is Simon going to the library?” someone calls.

“Agatha,” I say, looking up at her. She’s stood beside where Baz is, and I hope she keeps moving and doesn’t sit down. “You alright?”

“Why are you going to the library?” she repeats. I’m a bit annoyed she’s so shocked about it. Do I not look like someone who goes to the library?

“Snow has a howling time when surrounded by books,” Baz says with a smirk. I give his shin a good kick, but it doesn't stop him. “There’s no cause fur concern.”

I hate him. I hope one of the decorative candles sets his stupid shiny hair on fire.

Agatha’s frowning, and her lips are neatly downturned. It’s a look I’m used to being on the receiving end of.

“We’re researching,” Penny says.

“Researching what?”

I sigh. Knowing Agatha, she’ll just keep demanding to know until we tell her, and I really can’t be bothered going through all of that. I lean towards her and say as quietly as I can manage, “I got bitten by a werewolf.”

“Ha, ha. That’s not funny, Simon.”

I look at her. She looks at me. I raise my eyebrows in a silent way of saying ‘would I joke about this?’, and her face slowly drops.

“Crowley, what–” She shakes her head.

“We’re trying to sort it out before the next full moon.”

“Why then?”

“Because” – I pull a face. Why does no one get my urgency? – “I don’t want to have my skin shredded to pieces and run the risk of maiming someone?”

Agatha makes a small noise and nods.

Penny points her fork at her. “Want to lend a helping hand?”

“I’m not getting involved in your mess. But why not ask the Mage, or any of the teachers?”

I gape at her. “Are you mad? Merlin knows what they’d do to me if they found out. We can sort it out ourselves.”

Agatha’s face goes all small and twisted, and I can tell she wants to say something but just manages to hold it back. She takes a deep breath and eventually says, “Well, you’d better get a move on, then.”

Cheers, Agatha. Your support means the world to me.

#carry on #carry on fic #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #czenzo.fic #on the hunt

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sakannaz · 2 years

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𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄

╰┈─➤ 𝙸𝙽 𝚆𝙷𝙸𝙲𝙷: Not every miracle is a good one, but you were, to angel. Even if you were cold and distant to him, he could always keep trying.

Nope x reader [insert]

Note 📝: it’s that time, I’ve been waiting to do this for awhile but was so hesitant to actually do it, so I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it.

Chapter two

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙𝙨

| 2 Months ago. |

You stared at your mom’s dead body, just sitting there. In silence. You barely even remembered what happened, one minute she was talking to you and then the next thing you know she was bleeding.

You had took her to the hospital and tried to figure out what it was, weirdly enough there was objects flying on the ground that day.

You stayed there till day and night, you just felt numb. She was gone, your father was gone too, you had no one.

She was gone. You just had to accept that. As much as you tried to revive her there was nothing you could do.

| Present |

You were at the cash register, well, you worked in a store now- mostly for cameras or whatever. At least you had a job that paid you every hour.

Em and oj came up to you, placing boxes down on the counter, you’ve known them for a long time but never really talked to them as much.

“Hi. Thank you for shopping at Fry’s. Did you guys find everything you’re looking for today? If not give your store experience a rating from five to zero and we’ll get back to you in a jiffy.” You said in a monotone voice, em and oj exchanged looks before turning back to you.

“Did someone get on your nerves or somethin’? Sounding real gloomy over there (Y/n).” Em said, you sighed and shrugged.

“I’m doing just fine.” You replied, then angel walked over to the three of you, you let out a groan and continued to scan their supplies.

“You guys need help with the installation or..?” He questioned, Em shook her head, “No, no, no, no, no. Thank you. Appreciate you.” Em replied.

Angel sighed, “All right, uh, no help with the install. Suit yourself.” He chuckled, once you were done scanning their items you placed them in a bag.

They were talking about something and you stared off into space for a minute, you’ve always done that ever since your mother died..it was common for you.

You felt someone snap their fingers in your face, breaking you out of your trance, “Hello? Earth to (Y/n)?” Angel said as he kept snapping his fingers in your face.

He kept doing it but he knew you were staring at him, he just wanted to know if you were here or not.

“Angel, stop.” You said and he did, you felt his hand on your shoulder, you probably didn’t feel it from being in a trance or day dreaming.

“Dude, your hand.” You said, slapping his hand off your shoulder, he let out a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I was just going to let you know we’re heading to the Haywood’s house, wanna come? By the way can we take your van?” He asked, you nodded.

“sure.” You answered.

➽────────────❥

You slammed the back of the van doors open, “Damn. Did not know you guys were this far out.” Angel said, starting up a conversation.

“Mm-hmm.” Oj hummed in response, you grabbed the boxes out of the van and placed it on the ground.

Then Angel let out a yell, you ignored it and rolled your eyes, why was he even yelling for?

“You’ll startle the horses for gods sake. Don’t yell.” You said, then you let out a sigh escape your lips, it was too hot out here and you were sweating like crazy.

You saw em walking away and Angel called you over to show a picture of his ex-girlfriend.

“Her name was, uh, Rebecca Diaz. Yep, keep an eye out for her. She’s an actress, model, you know? She booked a pilot on The CW, so…Yeah, fucking left me.” Angel explained, you rolled your eyes and walked off.

“Uh..hey, wait- where you going?” He asked, you ignored him and walked into the Haywood’s house.

What a day.

#nope 2022 x reader #nope x reader #angel torres x reader #xreader #nope 2022 #oj haywood #em haywood #reader insert

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fangirlshrewt97 · 2 years

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Caught You

Ok, this one is to blame on the Discord group, specifically @rambheem-is-real and @burningsheepcrown

I had plans people. For other fic. But oh no these two could not help but give my brain an idea so good I had to write something for it so it would shut up. Anyways, here is genderbent RamBheem, based on this post and the lovely doodle attached by Lan. Also, this might be the closest I’ve come to a smut? Did it turn out ok???

Keerthi, I hope you don’t mind I decided to try my hand at the AU you proposed, and that you like this fic...

///

“Pass me the green book.” Radha gestured, holding a hand out.

Bhumi hummed as she extracted the requested book from the pile in her arms, adjusting her hold to not send them all toppling.

“So, why are you doing this?” Bhumi asked as Radha stretched to place the book on the bookshelf. Her eyes darted to the flash of skin where Radha’s shirt was coming untucked from her pants.

Bhumi had been surprised Radha’s village had permitted her to continue with the western clothing, but when Radha was able to get them the weapons she had promised, Bhumi supposed they could let her wear whatever she wanted. Not that Bhumi was complaining. The clothes were tight and highlighted Radha’s physique exquisitely.

Bhumi bit her lip. And then yelped when something thumped her loudly over the back of her head. “Hey!”

Radha was looking at her with poorly disguised amusement. “You ask me a question, and then get too distracted to hear the answer?”

Bhumi blushed, looking away. “Sorry. What did you say?”

Radha tilted her head, squinting at her. Bhumi kept her gaze steady, praying her cheeks were not getting any redder.

“I said, it was a miracle Babai managed to salvage all my books from Delhi. But since he did, the least I can do it is keep them organized.”

“I meant more why are you arranging them in the shelves when two days from now you will have taken them all down again in the name of research? Following which they will slowly accumulate into precarious piles for innocent bystanders to walk into or trip over? Because what if you need them again?”

Radha scowled as she swiped at Bhumi, but the younger woman just let out one of her booming laughs as she dodged easily. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Radha, with the amount of books you have, even if things were neat, it would look messy.”

Bhumi held out another tome in apology, which Radha took even as she frowned.

“Hey you know I am just teasing right? It’s incredible that you have so many books and that you have actually read most of them!” Bhumi corrected when she was Radha was still looking pensive.

Radha glanced at her from the corner of her eye, lips turning up in a small smile. “No, I know. But you may have a point. I will need to find a better place to keep them all.”

Bhumi hummed. “If you want, I can help build a couple extra bookshelves.”

Radha turned to her, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

Bhumi shrugged as best as she could with her load. “Sure, they wouldn’t be anything too fancy, but they would be sturdy.”

Radha shot her a wide smile. “That would be incredible Bhumi!”

Bhumi swallowed hard as the smile hit her like a punch to the gut. Rama help her, Radha was far too beautiful.

Sharp cheekbones, short straight hair, a deep olive complexion, all serving to further highlight the darkest brown eyes that flashed with honey gold when the sun hit them. Delicate wrists and nimble fingers that danced with knives and arrows alike, she moved with the agility of the deer Bhumi chased back home, and attacked with as much ferocity as any mother tiger or bear who’s family was threatened.

“-mi! Bhumi!” jolted the Gond girl back to the present where Radha was waving her hand in front of her.

“There you are!” Radha said as Bhumi met her eye. “I swear, that is the fourth time you have spaced out today. Let’s take a break, I think you should lie down for some time.”

Bhumi shook her head though. “No, no, I’m fine. We are almost done anyways, we only have like 10 books left. Let’s finish it off.”

Radha pursed her lips as she looked her over before nodding. “Fine, but as soon as we are done, you promise to go lie down for some time?”

Bhumi nodded reluctantly, knowing Radha would not back down otherwise. The women got through the rest of the books quickly.

“Do you really think I will have to do this whole rearranging again in two days?” Radha said as she inspected the neatly stacked bookshelves. She took one step down from the three step ladder, but stayed off the ground, hooking an elbow to the edge of the bookshelf.

Bhumi looked at her quizzically.

“For when they become piles that inevitably end up on the floor in … what did you call them? Precarious piles that endanger innocent bystanders?” she finished with a smirk, as her eyes filled with mirth.

Bhumi bit the inside of her cheek as she grinned back. “Two days? No. I think you’ll manage for three days! Maybe even four!”

“Oh you think I could manage four days, do you?” Radha asked, toothy grin making Bhumi giggle in delight.

Bhumi winked at her, adding innocently, “I’m sure if you ask Babai for help Radha, you may even manage five days!”

“You little-” Radha growled playfully as she pretended to lunge at her. Only they both overestimated the stability of the stool, Bhumi only having a second to hear the splintering of the wood before Radha yelled, falling forwards. The younger woman shifted her stance wider, one arm wrapping around Radha’s waist, and the other around her thighs, but the momentum still sent them both crashing to the ground.

Both women exhaled with a gasp, wincing as the fall made itself known. When Bhumi opened her eyes, she felt as if she still hadn’t gotten her breath back. Radha’s face was a hair’s breath away, eyes squeezed close, plump lips open, and god Bhumi wanted to kiss her so badly. She felt the loose strands of Radha’s hair brushing her hairline.

And then Radha opened her eyes, and time seemed to freeze all over again. Bhumi became aware of just how closely they were pressed, shoulder to hip, chests heaving against one another, Radha’s knees straddling Bhumi’s thighs.

“Bhumi-” Radha said hoarsely, causing Bhumi to press her eyes shut tighter, forcing herself to release her iron grip on Radha, even as her heart and brain both begged her to hold her closer. “Bhumi, look at me. Please open your eyes.”

Bhumi gasped, eyes opening as a gentle hand wove into her hair. Radha was still hovering over her, sweat from the afternoon heat gathering at her forehead.

And her eyes. Those dark pools Bhumi loved so much seemed deeper than ever, as Radha’s pupils dilated, leaving only a thin ring of gold behind. Eyes that darted down to Bhumi’s lips.

Bhumi licked her lips on reflex. Radha’s eyes flashed with the briefest hint of hunger, causing her to tug at Bhumi’s hair.

Bhumi’s breath stuttered, then caught again when Radha’s other hand brushed against her bare waist, where her dhavani had shifted. One of the sweat drops made its way down Radha’s forehead till the tip of her nose before falling, hitting right at the base of Bhumi’s throat.

“Ra-Radha.” Bhumi whined, baring her throat.

Radha growled her name again as she properly cupped at Bhumi’s hip, the touch a firebrand that seemed to light Bhumi from the inside out. Radha leaned close, and Bhumi closed her eyes…

“Girls? Is everything ok?” Babai’s voice was like a bucket of ice cold water, sending them both springing apart just as the older man came into Radha’s house.

Neither woman could bear to look at the other, Bhumi pressing her fingernails as tightly as possible to bring herself under control.

On the other side of the room, Radha was frantically straightening out her clothing, even as her nerves danced under her skin. So close.

“Radha?”

Radha took a deep breath before meeting her uncle’s eye.

“No, Babai, nothing to worry about. I’m afraid this stool was not as strong as I thought.” She explained as she gestured to the faulty furniture, now laying in two pieces where Radha had been standing.

“Oh devuda, I made sure to check the wood, but termites may have weakened some of the legs without leaving too much damage. Are you ok? Did you get hurt?” Babai said as he bent over the wood.

Radha shook her head. “No just a scrap.”

Babai smiled at her then, patting her shoulder. “Oh good, Bhumi should be able to take care of that with one of her pastes then!”

Except when they turned to ask the woman, she was no where to be found.

Radha closed her eyes, biting her lip. Fuck.

///

So....honestly I don’t have anything to say. You all are the ones who need to tell me what you think.

Tagging (Please please work, Tumblr I beg you):

@rambheem-is-real @budugu @bromance-minus-the-b @kafkaesquebestie @hissterical-nyaan @obsessedtoafault @hufhkbgg @yehsahihai @rorapostsbl @bluesolace1 @fadedscarlets @alikokinav @chaotic-moonlight @rambheemisgoated @rambheemlove @jaganmaya @adikavy @burningsheepcrown @lovingperfectionwonderland @rosayounan @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @thewinchestergirl1208 @dumdaradumdaradum @ronaldofandom @jjwolfesworld @percikawantstoread @kashpaymentsonly @jeonmahi1864 @zackcrazyvalentine @stanleykubricks @ronnoxandlumoss

#rrr #rrr fanfic #rambheem #ram x bheem #rambheem fanfic #my fic #my writing

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sortasirius · 4 years

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What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me. Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based. In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place. Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!” Bruh. The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode. You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season). Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here. Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone. He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else. That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit. This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this. That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS. AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all. Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this? I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20? AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half? Nothing really happened? Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around. It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it. The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery. Truly, that is the only thing. It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper got a week or so before the finale. She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right? It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc. The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.” Uh. Where are they? And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So. Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

???????? That’s the end if it? They don’t need to be discussed after this??? It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too? Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay? Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else. They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else. Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here. What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right. Weird as fuck. Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas? My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene. Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back. Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it. Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad. It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway. He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here). Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying. My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven. The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago. We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread). The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here. Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here. Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions. Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was. None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why? Why lie to all of us when we have questions? Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense. Simply? Warner Brothers is absolutely massive. These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs. They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha. It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him. He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids. It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then.

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram. It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other.

My theory? They didn’t know. They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all? Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so. I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God. I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read. He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that? Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys. Why would he get involved? He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is. He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam. I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to. So what changed? What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious? CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South. It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And? They don’t care. They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here). They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line. And you know what? To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what? They warned us. I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network. I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want? Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy. In fact, to the people trashing them? You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb. Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them. The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this, Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

#my writing #my meta #supernatural #spn #spn finale trash fire #MY MANIFESTO IS DONE

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lollypopsx · 3 years

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Flatmate!Harry: I'll Make It Up To You - Part 2

Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog for anyone who may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Warnings: Hints of depression and anxiety

Part 1 - Part 3

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Days had passed since the audition, and while you were sat on your laptop every hour searching for new jobs, new projects, more auditions and pure hope of some miracle, you couldn't help but starting to feel like you were failing slightly.

You liked to write happy songs and create stories using your music, but you were finding it harder to find the inspiration. Usually you and Harry would sit and talk ideas for hours, but since he made you miss your audition, you were distant from him, it was only the last day or two that you had been getting slowly back to normal.

Every day since the incident when Harry came home after working at the studio, he would open the curtains to make sure you had fresh air and daylight after cooping yourself up on the sofa all day, in the dimly lit living room. Not only that, he would check the cupboards, fridge and the sink to check that you were eating enough. He had seen you stressed and upset before. He had been there through some difficult moments in your life, and had always been your rock throughout the years, especially when your mental health was struggling during these times. But this time was worse. He couldn't help being concerned for someone he loved and cared for.

"Hey pumpkin..." He whispers softly, settling himself down beside you after completing his daily routine "Have you done much today?" he gently combs his fingers through your hair before dropping his arm round your shoulders.

You just sigh softly, looking ahead blankly at the quiet TV, simply shaking your head. If only he could see what was going on in that pretty mind of yours then maybe he could make everything better.

"I see you used the piano and the guitar today though..." he states, although it came out more like a question.

Minutes of silence filled the room until out of the blue, some words left your lips. "...Adam came to get the ring today" you whisper, feeling the tears brim your eyes once again, for what felt like the millionth time today.

"Oh darling" He frowns, pulling you into his chest tightly, just like he did the night you found out your (now ex-) boyfriend, Adam, was cheating on you. Unfortunately, you happened to find out minutes before he proposed to you, in front of all of your friends, including Harry. You didn't know what to do, so you took the ring, said you'd think about it and you left him standing alone. This all happened months ago, and you really thought that you was totally over it.

"Everything that's happened this week...I-I just...I feel like such a failure Haz. It just feels like I...I-I'm falling...falling apart and nothings going right! Why isn’t anything going right! I can’t even write one stupid song that makes sense" you let out hard sobs as your hands fisted his clean white t-shirt.

"No...no, no, no don't say that...please don't ever say that." He frowns, pulling away from you, but still staying close. His warm hands press against your cheeks as he lifts your face gently "hey, hey look at me" he whispers, begging you to look at him.

Your sad wide eyes flickered up into his, gentle tears falling down your face. "I know...I know it's hard at the moment. But everything happens for a reason. And everything will get better...I know it will. Do you trust me?" He whispers, his eyes gazing deep into yours, almost like if he looked hard enough, he could read your mind.

You give a hesitant nod as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before wiping the tears dampening your cheeks. Being affectionate together wasn't anything unusual for the two of you, you really were the best of friends.

"I'll go make some dinner okay? Pasta sound good?" You just nod your head gently at him as he leaves your side. You let out a deep sigh and head over to the living room window, watching the sunrise beginning to set over the busy London town. "So...how's the studio going?" You ask him curiously, your gaze still at the window.

"I erm..." He clutters around in the kitchen. His job was a topic he had been avoiding for the last few days. He didn't want to rub it in that he was busy writing an album for millions of fans, who would be screaming his lyrics back to him all over the world in years to come. "It's...good. I mean, its tiring but I...yeah. It's good" He nods.

"H, you don't have to avoid it. I forgive you for what happened. I know you would never have done it out of spite...and you deserve your life style, you work hard!" You say as you head into the kitchen, re-filling the water in the vase on the table, your vibrant roses and lilies still looking as beautiful as the first day Harry bought them for you.

"You work hard too!" He frowns softly "Harry I don't think moping around on the sofa, drowning in my sorrows, is the definition of working hard" You let out a gentle chuckle.

"So...how's it really going?" You hop up onto the stool beside the kitchen counter.

"Well, we have 4 songs so far...and they are...different to the last album. I mean they reckon three of them will be on the pop charts...maybe even a number one slot there" He sighs softly.

"Oh wow, that does sound different to before...and you...don't want that?" You ask curiously, judging by the lack of excitement. "Well...it's not that. I just...it's hard to write another album when the last one did well, and you have to make sure it's better than the last one." He sighs softly as he cooks. "They want me to write some slower, more emotional songs. I just can't...well the words don't fit right. I'm just not feeling emotional about anything, so I don't know where to get the emotion from"

"Well you can't put a price on emotion Haz, you can't just go and buy it in Gucci. You have to really feel it. Even if you aren't thinking about something specific or direct to you. I used to find that sometimes when I was trying to write, I'd create these characters in my head, and I'd give them all these different stories and personalities. And I...I used that to really help me write music. It's not easy." You explain while getting two of the plates from the cupboard and pouring two drinks for the table.

"You used to? You mean you don't use that method anymore?" He asks curiously, while giving the pasta one final stir.

"I...I think I've decided that I'm not going to write music anymore" You shrug softly, your eyes unable to life to his. "I need a proper job. And things aren't going well with auditions lately and I make a total fool out of myself every time I go into a meeting. It's time I looked for a proper job. Besides, the price of bills in this house keeps going up and up."

"What?! Y/N you're so good at writing songs and music! You can't throw it all away now! That is your proper job. And I love hearing what you write, it inspires my own stuff!" He frowns, his brow furrowing, trying to understand you. "Think of all the songs no one will get to hear"

"No one hears them anyway...It's different now. The entertainment industry is changing more and more by the day. Maybe the stuff I write just isn't as trendy anymore." It was difficult for you to admit, but you knew you had to accept it.

"There's a fine line between us Styles, because the difference is, you're already there. You have the whole world in your hands Haz, you can go anywhere and do anything. You could sing a song to a fish and the whole world would be adored by you still! If I did something like that...I'd be laughed out of every interview, audition and meeting for the rest of my life. But we’ll be alright" You smile and shrug, your mood had certainly been hit and miss the last few days, but you knew you had to carry on with your life.

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“Hey Y/N come here!” Harry calls from the living room. You were currently in your room, scrolling through your Instagram, while in a pasta coma after dinner. You rush over to the living room “What’s up?” You ask, seeing him sat at the gleaming white piano, which as always was sat under the window.

“What do you think?” He starts to play a few notes on the piano, looking between the scruffy paper notes cluttering the top of the piano and his hands.

“Can’t put a price on emotion...it’s something that you just can’t buy...you...you’ve got my devotion...but....but” He sighs softly, playing around with the notes and the wording on his notes.

You smile softly as you recognise his acknowledgment of your earlier conversation “...but man, I can hate you sometimes” you sing gently, testing to see how it could fit.

“Hey that’s mean! Why would you say that!” He fakes a pout up at you “I thought we- hey actually...you’re right! That really fits!” He chuckles, pulling you onto the stool beside him. “Can you try a G chord, B chord and....lets try a C...” You nod and smile as your fingers gloss over the keys effortlessly, while Harry fits the verse together and tries to find the right tempo.

“Wait...it doesn’t sound right. Maybe lets try a D instead of C?” You suggest as you re-try, playing those three chords over and over again.

“You...are...a genius!” He grins and wraps his arms around your waist. ”Keep going!” He smirks, pushing more lyrics in front of you. Sometimes having a fresh pair of eyes really helped...or perhaps he just wanted to prove that you had talent.

You peer down at the pages upon pages of words flooding your view. “...I don’t want to fight with you....and I...and I don’t like to sleep in the dark...we’ll get the drinks in...I...I can’t stop thinking of her...”

Harrys fingers join yours at the piano “We’ll be a fine line....We’ll be a fine line...”He smiles softly as he taps on a few random keys.

You pull your fingers away gently “It...your song sounds...really good H. It’s beautiful actually.”

“You mean our song...” He whispers.

“Harry no, it’s your song, all the pieces, I just put your jigsaw together” You smile. “I know how it is writing songs and the first draft is never the same as the final version. You might decide to change it all completely” You whisper.

“Not with your lyrical genius ability and words of wisdom...your name will be all over this track” You felt a shock of electricity ripple through your veins as you felt his eyes burning into yours. His lips pressed gently against your forehead, lingering against your skin longer than usual. That sort of affection was normal from your best friend...so why did it just feel like something completely different? And what did he mean about my name being all over the track?

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Tag List: @harryhoney-bee - @sunandherflores - @sad-capuccino

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #one shot #hslot #flatmate!harry #roommate!harry #fine line #lollypopsx #fanfic #imagine #request #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #Harry styles fluff

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magickastiel · 3 years

Text

✨ B&B’S CHRISTMAS ADVENT CALENDAR ✨

13th December - christmas shopping

I am, once again, attempting to write one story through different prompts. I really enjoyed it last time so let’s see if I can do it through December!

check out the other days | now on ao3

Summary: Just a month after defeating Chuck, Sam & Dean are faced with their first real Christmas. Eileen, Jody, Donna, Claire & Kaia descend on the Bunker for a Christmas celebration like no other. But for Dean, Castiel’s confession still weighs heavy. It might be easier to deal with if Cas was actually around to talk to but he and Jack are busy in Heaven. Surely they don’t have time to come home for Christmas…do they?

🛒

As the morning seeps into the afternoon, the mood in the Bunker mellows.

Cas, pleased with his card, retreats to the library with Jack. Jody and Donna take Kaia to the range for some firearm practice, Claire tagging along for support.

Sam and Eileen have sloped off somewhere and Dean doesn’t want to think about what they might be doing, thank you very much.

The radio is on low - classic rock being the perfect background noise for Dean to inspect his shortcrust pastry. The blind bake is done and he’s reasonably happy so far. The sweet potato is cooked and all he needs to do now is mix in the spinach and feta before he puts it back in the oven. He can cover it until tomorrow when he’ll reveal it to Sam. Really, it’s a miracle he hasn’t seen it yet -

“Dean!” Sam bursts into the kitchen, hair wild and eyes wide.

Dean hurriedly throws a tea towel over the pastry and sweet potato and turns to face his brother.

“Yep.”

Thankfully, Sam seems too preoccupied to question it. “I really need your help.”

The panicked look on Sam’s face makes Dean stand up straight, body a little tense. “What? What’s going on?”

“It’s Eileen’s necklace. It still isn’t here and I’m - I’m freaking out!” Sam runs his fingers through his hair desperately. “The store said it’d be delivered yesterday and I was worried when it didn’t arrive but I thought maybe it was delayed or something and it’d come today. But still nothing and now the store I bought it from is closed for Christmas and…man, I don’t know what to do!”

“Ok, ok, ok! Easy, man, take a breath.” Dean holds up his hands. “Right, first thing we should do is check the Post Office in town. Might’ve been delayed there, ok?”

“Right! Yeah. Yeah, ok. But what if it’s not there?”

Dean unties his apron and hangs it up. “Then we go to Walmart and buy her enough stuff to make the best damn hamper you ever saw. Then she’ll have something to unwrap tomorrow but she can still have the necklace after Christmas.”

Sam nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Yes, good! Ok yeah. I’m not freaking out anymore. That’s good!”

Dean pulls on his jacket and jangles his keys. “Come on then, jackass. We can say I forgot to get cocoa when I went shopping with Jack yesterday. I didn’t but, the rate we’re all drinking it, we’ll need more anyway.”

They manage to escape without any questions, Jack only looking momentarily puzzled because he thought he and Dean had bought everything yesterday. Sam babbled on about cocoa and milk so long Dean had to shove him out of the door.

They’re roaring into town, Baby eating up the snow-sprinkled road while Dean taps the steering wheel to the beat of the Christmas radio station he and Jack listened to yesterday.

Sam’s still stressing in the passenger seat but he seems a bit more focussed now he has a plan.

“You know this is so typical!” He rants, crossing his arms across his chest. Dean is briefly reminded of Sam as a moody teenager and grins. “This is the first time in years that I’ve actually really thought about a gift, you know? I wanted this to be perfect. And of course this is the one thing I ordered that hasn’t showed up!”

Dean isn’t particularly surprised. Sam faffed about looking at the necklace online for nearly a fortnight. Dean had been so driven to the edge by Sam’s constant debating that, in the end, he just sat Sam down and told him to order the damn thing.

Dean had lived the selection process so of course he’s now living the delivery process too.

“I really want this to mean something.” Sam says, staring out of the window with a morose expression. “After what happened with Chuck…it made me realise I can’t keep holding back. Eileen is amazing and I should tell her.”

“No argument from me!” Dean says, feeling a peculiar mixture of joy and envy.

He pulls them into a parking spot right in front of the post office. The fact that they’re the only car there isn’t lost on Dean and his heart sinks. But Sam, with his total tunnel vision, doesn’t seem to realise what that might mean.

He stops dead almost comically late at the door.

“They…no!” He wines and actually goes to kick the door but stops himself just in time. “They’re on a half-day for Christmas Eve. They closed nearly an hour ago.” He peers in through the window but all the lights are off. “We could - ”

“Dude, no.” Dean cuts him off, uncomfortable with being the sensible one for once. “We’re not breaking into the post office on Christmas Eve. We’ll get arrested and then we’ll have to knock out everyone at the police station and probably ruin their Christmas.”

Sam’s shoulders slump. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I know.” Dean claps him on the back and guides him back to the car. “Come on. Walmart it is.”

Walmart is as chaotic as you’d expect it to be on Christmas Eve afternoon.

Sam grabs a shopping cart and starts prowling the aisles like a man possessed. Dean wanders along behind him, relieved that he hasn’t got to worry about a thing.

Then Sam decides to spoil it.

“What have you got for everyone?” He demands suddenly, taking a break from trying to decide between the ‘relax, you deserve it’ gift set and the ‘self-care Sunday’ gift set.

Dean blinks.

“What? Nothing. Jody said not to bother since we’re putting them up for Christmas.” Sam raises his eyebrows and Dean starts to panic. “Shut up! I’m literally cooking an entire Christmas meal plus sides plus desserts for eight people. That’s a lot of work!”

“No, no, I know it is!” Sam shrugs and Dean can see the beginnings of a smirk. “Just wanted to make sure, that’s all.”

“Right.” Dean says, doubt starting to creep in.

“I just think,” Sam continues, adding the ‘self-care Sunday’ set to the growing pile and pushing the cart along the aisle at a more leisurely pace. “It might be strange receiving presents tomorrow and not giving any in return.”

Dean grits his teeth. “You little shit.”

Sam grins, tapping his fingers on the plastic. “Plenty of space in the cart.”

Sam gets Eileen enough stuff to fill two hampers - bath bombs, moisturisers, nail polishes, chocolates, cheeses, crackers and a large bottle of champagne.

Dean scurries along behind him, cursing all the way. He grabs a cable-knit sweater for Jody, a set of pyjamas with donuts on them for Donna, a thick sketchbook and fancy pencils for Kaia and, after a brief debate, decides to get two polaroid cameras - one for Claire and one for Jack.

Sam splutters as Dean puts them in the cart.

“Don’t.” Dean hisses. “Just…let me get them, ok?”

They’re heading to the checkout but Dean is still puzzling over Cas. Honestly, that’s a constant. He’s virtually impossible to buy for - he doesn’t need food, he doesn’t need toiletries, he doesn’t even need pyjamas now he actually owns some.

They wander past the outdoor area, making Dean pause. His eyes fall on a healthy lavender plant in a pretty looking ceramic pot. He swallows. What’s Cas gonna do with it really? He’s in heaven most of the time anyway. What’s the point in giving him a plant he doesn’t have time to take care of?

He almost passes it by when a small label on it catches his eye.

Attracts bees to your garden!

Well, shit. Now he’s gonna have to get it.

He’s just finished carefully placing it in the cart when Sam practically slaps him on the arm.

“Dude, dude! Isn’t that Meryl?!” He points to a late middle-aged woman packing her shopping three checkouts over.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean says, vaguely recalling her. “Meryl who works at the - ”

“Post office!” Sam finishes before dashing off, leaving Dean to weave their cart through the crowds.

“- please, just take a look!!” Sam is already exclaiming by the time he gets there. “Please, Meryl! I’ll - I’ll do anything you want! I’ll fix that janky air conditioning unit! I’ll - I’ll repaint the whole building! Please, anything!”

Meryl looks totally startled and Dean can’t blame her. Sam looks one rejection away from a breakdown.

“Look, Meryl.” Dean says smoothly, turning on the charm. “I know it’s really inappropriate of us to ask but my brother here: he’s a little, shall we say, unlucky in the love department. And now he’s finally met this girl that can deal with him - ” Sam glares. “And he wants this Christmas to be perfect. So could you help - ”

“We’ll pay for your groceries!” Sam blurts.

Dean wheels around. “What?!”

“We’ll pay for your whole shop!” Sam says again, looking totally deranged. “Everything!”

“Will we?!”

“If you can buy two polaroid cameras, I think I can afford to buy Meryl’s shopping for her!”

On the drive back, money poor and present rich, Sam fondles the little box in his hand. He opens and closes it several times, peering at the silver pendant. He slots the box back in his coat pocket and smiles to himself.

Dean, still smarting from the very expensive Walmart trip, says nothing.

Another minute passes by. Then Sam gets the box out again and opens it. He stares. Then holds it up to show Dean.

“Do you think I should have got her something else?”

Dean almost swerves off the road in pure rage. He settles for smacking his head on the car horn.

#b&badventcalendar #spn fic #destiel fic #destiel #saileen #spn #supernatural #look! i'm posting before 11pm for once!!!!!!#and it's a long one today!#i received revelation for this one #sam and dean being annoying brothers <3 #w*ncesties do not interact #mine

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stormysnz · 3 years

Note

Oh I love the Grayson & Sage stories! As far as scenarios: Grayson catching his first cold since they started seeing each other?

For the anon who asked about Grayson's first cold since they got together...here you go! This was super fun to write, and I always love getting more ideas for these two :)

I was pissed. Beyond pissed. Was I overreacting?...Possibly. But, I’d been simmering on this for the past 48 hours, and the more I thought about it, the more annoyed I got, and then the more annoyed I got, the more I thought about it and…Well, you could see how the irritation bubbled up pretty quickly.

Currently, I was standing right outside Grayson’s apartment door, knocking loudly and repeatedly. Considering I literally lived one apartment door over from my boyfriend, it shouldn’t be too hard to see him, right? Wrong. For the past two days, Grayson had been completely MIA. He wasn’t responding to my texts, answering my calls, or coming to the door when I knocked (which I had tried yesterday). I had gotten a throw-away text last night about how he was just busy with work, and when I asked if I could come over, I got no response.

Honestly, I’d tried not to get crazy over this. We had just started dating less than a month ago, and as much as I really didn’t want to get insane over this, he just wasn’t answering me. When I arrived home after work today and saw his car parked outside - giving me concrete evidence that he was home - I stomped my way up the stairs and straight to his apartment.

Aaaand that led us to right now. Me fuming with irritation, still pounding on Grayson’s front door to try to get some sort of response from him. I mean, if he was mad at me for something, he could have just asked me (though, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I could have done. I hadn’t come up with anything since I’d been running through all the scenarios in my head for the past 48 hours. I know, I know, very healthy). Ugh, and here I went getting all pissed all over again.

But, honestly, I think I was pretty valid in getting angry over my boyfriend - my boyfriend who literally lived one door over from me - ignoring me for two days. And, I was sick of it. So, there I was, rapping on his apartment door, waiting for some type of answer or response. He better have some damn good excuse for absolutely ghosting me for the past two days and--

“...Sage?”

Suddenly, the door was being pulled open (It was honestly a miracle that I didn’t actually punch Grayson, considering I was about to knock again right as the door opened), revealing my boyfriend in all his glory. I really didn’t even get a good chance to look at him before words started falling out of my mouth rapidly.

“Don’t ‘Sage?’ me like that, like you have no idea why I’m here, I’ve been trying to talk to you for two days and you’ve just been ignoring me! All my texts, all my calls, and I tried to come here yesterday and you didn’t even come to the door! If you have something you want to talk about or I did something wrong, we need to talk about it instead of you just not responding to anything I’m--Whoa!”

My rambling rant got cut off by Grayson taking me by the arm and quickly tugging me inside the apartment, shutting the door behind me. In hindsight, probably a good idea. The walls were incredibly thin and all of our neighbors could likely hear me. But, in the moment, it just made me more angry.

Grayson slumped back against the door once he had closed it again, as if that small motion had seeped all the effort out of him. His typically smooth and confident voice was small and exhausted when he spoke. “I-I don’t…I’m sorry, I just…I’m confused,” He said weakly, words fragmented, leaning his head back against the door.

Another string of rants was on the tip of my tongue about how on Earth he didn’t even know he was ignoring me when I took two seconds to look at him and his current state. I tilted my head, letting out the breath I had just sucked in to yell again. Brows knit together as I stepped closer and my eyes flicked across his face, analyzing. “Are you okay?” I asked hesitantly, my tone considerably softer than the rest of my words in this interaction thus far.

His usually-tanned skin was entirely too pale, with the exception of his cheeks and nose, which were bright pink and flushed. All of his weight was seemingly tipped back against the door he was leaning on, and his eyes were half closed, as if he just wasn’t comprehending a single thing that was going on at the moment.

A soft breath escaped his lips as his blue eyes fluttered shut, and I realized what was going to happen a split second before it did. Closing the gap between us rapidly, I grabbed at his arms as his weight slumped back, going partially limp. “Grayson! Hey--Eyes open, stand up, stand up--”

Half of his weight was caught by my arms under his, while the other half was still pressing back against the door. Whatever sliver of Grayson that was still conscious and able to hold up a portion of his own weight was likely the only reason that the both of us didn’t go plummeting to the floor. He was absolutely too heavy for me to hold on my own.

After a few seconds of my loud prompting, his eyes slowly fluttered back open, managing to get a hold over his own weight and clumsily stand back up straight. With one look into his hazy eyes, though, I could tell that he still wasn’t comprehending anything at the moment.

I reached up to his cheek, trying to tip his gaze down and encourage his eyes to meet mine so that he could try to tell me what was going on when--Oh…His skin was absolutely burning to the touch. Everything started clicking into place: the pale skin, the red nose, the burning skin…

“Gray, are you sick?” I asked, blinking up at him in surprise.

He made a soft, dazed hum after a few moments - Okay, I was gonna take that as a definite yes - before blinking down at me. “M’sleepy…” He breathed out softly.

“Okay…Do you think you can make it back to your bed?” I questioned slowly, all anger from earlier dissipated and replaced with concern for my obviously sick boyfriend.

Another exhausted hum from Grayson. Okay, not very helpful. I repositioned my arm to slip under Grayson’s and around his back, trying to figure out the best positioning for me to help him back to his room.

“Alright, Gray, you gotta help me, we’re gonna go back to bed,” I reiterated, glancing up at Grayson. Still incredibly dazed, but he seemed to somewhat grasp my instructions. It took much longer than it should have, and we had to take a few breaks, but we eventually made our way back to Grayson’s room, where he unceremoniously crashed onto his bed, giving a soft moan.

Glancing around the room, I could tell that I was right about Grayson being sick. There were tissues absolutely overflowing out of the trash can next to his bed, and about three unused boxes of tissues on his nightstand in case he needed more. Actually, speaking of…

“hhiH! aaASHHHhhiIEW! ASSHHHhuUU! hh-hehH! hhETSHHHhhUU! -hhESHhhhIEW!--nghhh”

Grayson released a few helpless sneezes against the pillow his face was currently shoved into, letting out an exhausted groan afterwards.

My body moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to his large frame, gazing down at him as my hand instinctively moved across his forehead and through his hair. Now that I was thinking about it, I actually hadn’t seen Grayson sick since we had met. Allergic and sensitive, yes definitely, but not sick. This seemed pretty bad for just a cold, though, didn’t it? Unless he ran fevers this high every time he got sick…Which, honestly, I wouldn’t be too surprised about, considering his overactive immune system.

Glancing around again at his nightstand and bedside table, I frowned when I didn’t see any medicine anywhere in the room. Based on the exhaustion absolutely radiating off of him and the fact that he hadn’t responded to me since yesterday night, I was assuming that he’d probably been sleeping on and off all day. And likely didn’t think to take any medicine.

I stood up, mumbling softly to Grayson that I’d be right back (though he most definitely wouldn’t notice if I was gone or not with the fever he was sporting right now) and went to go rummage through his medicine cabinets. I grabbed the bottle of cold medicine and a thermometer before heading back wtih the supplies.

Grayson was already half asleep when I got back, forcing me to shake his shoulder lightly to get him a bit more coherent, manuevering the thermometer underneath his tongue and giving him gentle instructions to keep it there, which he seemed to understand well enough.

While he was busy with that, I grabbed my phone and opened the messages app. I hesitated before typing out a text to John, one of Grayson’s friends from work. We’d gone out with John a few times, and along with being incredibly sweet, he was also very close with Grayson. I figured he should have some answers for me.

Hey, it’s Sage! I was just wondering if Grayson had gone into work today…? Or if he had seemed off in the past few days? He’d been kind of MIA for the past few days, and just found him in his apartment a shade away from being fever delirious, so I was just wondering if you’d seen him in the past few days and knew how he was?

I sent that text off before turning back to Grayson, whose thermometer was just beginning to beep. I slowly slipped the thermometer out from under his tongue, eyes widening at the display currently flashing. 103.4 Oh lord, that fever definitely had to go down a bit. Not too dangerous yet, but definitely much too high for my liking. And an explanation for the almost-passing-out earlier.

“hhhhiiEHH!--”

Oh lord. And then, there was that.

“hhIESSHHHuuu! eETTSHHHhUU! hhAHDT!-ohh…hhAADSHHHUU!-ASHhHHIEWW!

His cold sneezes seemed to absolutely rip out of his otherwise exhausted body. He was left panting and with watery eyes once he was done with the taxing fit, swiping a large wrist under his nose with a liquid sniffle and a groan. With Grayson sneezing like that as much as he did, it was no wonder the guy had such a nice body. He was practically doing crunches every time another powerful sneeze rippled through his body.

Mumbling a soft ‘bless you’ to distract myself from the surge of heat that plummeted through my stomach at the sneezes, my gentle hands manuevered Grayson’s body up into a a propped-up position with his head leaning up against the headboard. Ehhh…Good enough. I dosed out some cold medicine, bringing the small plastic cup to his lips and tilting it back into his mouth before instructing him to swallow. With a bit of praise after he did successfully, I helped guide him back down with a few encouragements for him to get some sleep and and some gentle head scratches.

My free hand fumbled for my phone when I heard the alert go off, seeing a response from John that I immediately opened.

Hey Sage, he was at work yesterday for a few hours but we sent him home early. Told him to go home and get some rest with you, but he’s stubborn and probably didn’t want to tell you how bad he was feeling. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’d just been sleeping since we sent him home yesterday. From what I could tell, he was just getting a bad cold, a little coughing and sneezing and haziness, but he did have a bit of a fever when we sent him home. Knowing him, he probably hasn’t taken any medicine or anything if his fever is still that high, I’d give him some fever reducers and let him sleep it off for a while. Hope he feels better, reach out if you need anything, and let me know how he’s doing tomorrow!

Okay, that was actually helpful information. More helpful than I had gotten from Grayson about his own state, at least. I quickly tapped out a response to John thanking him for the information and telling him that I’d update him on Grayson tomorrow. Turning back to Grayson, I heaved a soft sigh. Why hadn’t he told me if he’d been sick for that long? Was he scared to tell me that he was sick? I had no idea why, considering I’d seen him sneezy and allergic a lot in the month that we’d been dating. Those were questions for when he woke, I guessed.

Making my way over to the bathroom, I dampened a washcloth with cold water and took it back over to dab across Grayson’s warm forehead and face. Anything that would lower that fever was something I’d try. After a few minutes of that, I draped the cloth across his forehead and leaned my back against the headboard where I sat next to him on top of his bed. I continued my previous motions of carding my fingers through his hair, eventually drifting off to sleep with the soft sounds of Grayson’s slowing breathing next to me…

~~~

“hhiISHhhhU! eeTSHhhu! aASHhhhIew!! hhiH-”

I slowly blinked myself awake to the sounds of harsh sneezing next to me. My sleep-hazy mind didn’t put together what was going on or where I was for about a minute before I flinched with the remembrance of what had gone on last night. Shit, Grayson. I opened my eyes, glancing next to me to see my boyfriend curled up on himself, sneezing into his pillow. At some point in the night, I must have moved from sitting up against the headboard to laying down next to him, based on the position I found myself in currently.

Once Grayson’s sneezing died back down and he let out a soft sigh, as if going back to bed, I brushed a hand across his forehead to check his fever. Oh, thank god. Way lower than last night. By a long shot. Grayson’s brows furrowed and he blinked his eyes open, surprise and confusion crossing his sleep-hazy features.

“...Sage? What…? What are you doing here?” His voice was dampened with sleep and confusion, and his words forced out a few itchy coughs from his throat. I paused for a moment, thinking about how to explain my presence to my obviously surprised boyfriend.

“Do you remember anything that happened last night…?” His expression told me no. Lovely. “I came by, you almost passed out for a second, I gave you some cold medicine, and then I guess fell asleep here,” I explained softly, sitting up a bit and propping myself up. Based on Grayson’s still-confused expression…No, he hadn’t remembered any of last night.

“No…I don’t-Wait, how did you even know I was sick?” He asked with a yawn, scrubbing at his nose as he began bleeding into more consciousness.

Oh. Right. That question brought back a bit of the irritation that I had felt for the past few days, forcing a tiny of attitude into my tone with my next words.

“Well, despite your best efforts to hide the fact that you were sick from me, you completely ignoring me for two days got a bit suspicious. So I came over and knocked on your door until you answered, when you promptly passed out after less than a minute,” I raised an eyebrow at him before heaving a sigh and my voice getting more gentle. “You could have told me you were sick, you know?”

Grayson let out a small sigh, pressing up a bit to prop himself up and gaze up at me. He paused for a moment, searching for his words before letting out another exhausted breath and answering. “I just…Ughh, I don’t know. I just always get, like, really gross and delirious and messy when I get sick because I always run fevers…Well, you clearly saw that last night considering I nearly passed out on you - really sorry about that by the way - and I just…I don’t know, I didn’t want you to see that,” He confessed, gaze averting as he spoke before meeting back with mine shyly after he was finished, pink blush against his cheeks.

I tilted my head, brows furrowing slightly in confusion. “Honey…You know it’s not like I haven’t seen you sneeze before, right?” I inquired softly, a teasingly affectionate smile pulling slightly at my lips. I filed back through all the times that Grayson and I had hung out since we first met…and way over seventy-five percent of those times had consisted of Grayson sneezy and allergic.

He rolled his eyes with a flustered groan. “No, it’s just different when I’m sick. S’embarrassing. Well, more embarrassing. It’s gross and drippy, and I always run a horrible fever and get all loopy and delirious, and I sneeze an absurd amount, a-ah! and-hhISHhHhU! aa’DJSSHUU!-eeESHHHUuu! hihh!-HIH! aAASHhhhIewW!-uhh” Grayson snapped forward into his lap with the spraying sneezes, still too fever-delirious and sleep-hazy to think about covering.

“Ughh, and--Oh shit!” He was on his way back to listing off all the reasons why he didn’t want me to see him sick when his eyes slammed opened and he looked up at me, panic-stricken. “How long have you been here? Since last night? Shit, you really should leave, I really really don’t want to get you sick, that was half the reason that I didn’t tell you in the first place even though I really just wanted you to be here with me, and--”

“Gray, Grayson, it’s fine. Really, I don’t think I’m gonna get sick, I never do. Plus, you’re not gross, and I don’t care if you’re all loopy and fever-delirious, I want to be here with you. I want to take care of you and hang out with my boyfriend,” I insisted, raising a brow pointedly at him.

A pause. “...I guess,” He conceded with a sigh. “M’sorry for not responding for the past few days. I really wanted to, hanging out with you has really been all I’ve been thinking about for the past two days. Well, aside from when I was passed out sleeping, but that’s besides the point. I just…I dunno, I thought it would be better if you didn’t see me like this, ‘cause you wouldn’t get sick and you wouldn’t get ghhh! hHiISHhh-IShhhU! Ugh, you wouldn’t get grossed out by me, but I really did miss you. A lot,” Grayson mumbled out, words muddling together as he chanced another glance up at me. I could tell the fever was still messing with him a tiny bit. He wouldn’t normally say all that, or at least say it so openly without any prompting from me.

I couldn’t stop my lips from turning up into an affectionate smile. “I missed you too, hon. Really, though, next time you get sick, please just let me know. I promise I don’t think you’re gross, and it’s not embarrassing, and I really do just want to help you feel better,” I mentioned, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead followed by a short kiss to his lips, which Grayson broke off begrudgingly after a few moments.

“I…You really shouldn’t kiss me right now. You’re gonna get sick,” He insisted weakly, to which I rolled my eyes.

“If I was sick right now, would you really commit to not kissing me for multiple days on end?” I asked pointedly.

Another pause and a sigh. “Well…No, probably not…”

I laughed gently, pressing another short peck to his lips. “Come on, wanna watch some New Girl?” He desperately needed some rest, so I swiftly changed the subject to something I knew would keep him in bed, resting up as he should.

With a quick grin spreading across his lips, he agreed. “Ooh, yeah, let’s watch. Last episode was when Schmidt was trying to date Cece and Elizabeth, and I love him, but does he really think that’s gonna work out? Plus, we all know him and Cece are meant to be, and--”

I made a grab for the remote that connected to the TV in Grayson’s room as he rambled, clicking buttons to turn on the comfort show. After I had gotten the episode on and playing, my arms slipped around Grayson, pulling his warm body against me as we got comfortable in a lazy cuddle. I was sitting half-propped up against the headboard, with Grayson’s large body half-sprawled on top of me and his head resting against my chest. My hand found its way to scratch at his scalp, lightly running my fingers through his hair while my other hand brushed up and down his back gently. A contented sigh and a full-bodied shiver escaped him at the actions, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment in relaxation.

“I swear, I’ve been waiting for this for the past two days…You’re the best,” He hummed out, words muffled by my skin.

Oh, yeah, the fever was definitely still messing with his mind again. “We’ve gotta get some more medicine in you soon,” I insisted with an amused smile in lieu of an actual response to his words.

“After this episode, after this,” He retaliated, opening his eyes again to gaze over at the screen as the show started up. I couldn’t say no to him while he was being this adorable. The medicine could wait thirty minutes.

I turned my gaze to the TV, my expression surely lovestruck at best. With my sick, cuddly boyfriend at my side, his face against my chest, and my fingers running through his hair, I couldn’t hold back a loving smile. I might be on the way to getting sick in a few days, but it would be worth it for this moment right here. If it meant I got to cuddle and watch mindless TV with Grayson and take care of him for the next few days, I’d take getting sick a thousand times over.

#OC: Grayson #OC: Sage #snzfic #sickfic #my writing #these two literally have my heart #adore them sm

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kayleen756894 · 2 years

Text

Haven’t done much writing lately so here have a little chunk of an Amberpricefield fic I’ve slowly been working on and hopefully one day will post lmao enjoy!

“Don’t leave me out of the loop,” Max implored once she remembered how to breathe and why they went off on this tangent in the first place. “Which picture is it?”

A sheepish glance implied both Chloe’s gratitude for the distraction and anticipation of her opinion, the latter Rachel hinted by tucking her hair behind her ear, placing the camera in Max’s expectant palm.

Ah. This was one of her favourites from today, too.

“Good choice,” she said. Not that there was a bad choice. She was happy they liked her photos at all.

“Obviously,” Rachel chimed with a proud smile that extinguished any evanescent worry, leaning forward to rest her chin on her woven fingers. “I do have an eye for photos. I was in a photography class once upon a time.”

“You’re also dating a photographer,” Chloe exclaimed with a snort, shifting to wrap a lanky arm around the back of her chair. “That might have something to do with it.”

“You might be onto something there, Price. You know what I think it is?”

“What?”

“That this photographer is super attractive.”

Max nearly dropped her camera, shaky hands gripping tighter at the staggering combination of Rachel’s catlike grin, Chloe’s approving laugh, and how both of them were staring at her despite conversing with each other.

“If you’re only noticing this now your supposed ‘eye for photos’ might be a little lazy.” Chloe nudged Rachel’s shoulder. “Should get that checked out.”

“The only thing I’ll be checking out is my photographer.”

And empty words weren’t satisfactory, Rachel would never let her off that easy, cementing them by peering up and down. Those eyes were playful yet kindled with a fire reminiscent of last night, leering hazel flames consuming every writhe and cry Max couldn’t suppress, and wowser she had to stop thinking about that or they’d have to leave.

Which... wouldn’t be terrible. But she was hungry. For actual food.

“Think I’ll partner you for this mission, Amber,” Chloe said, mirroring Rachel’s wandering gaze, only amplifying Max’s conundrum. “She hella checks us out enough. S’only fair.”

Max knew her cheeks were bright red and knew hiding behind her camera was pointless but did so anyway, mumbling, “You’re both ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously right.”

“Ridiculously yours,” Rachel specified, boasted, grin softening to a smile.

Max rolled her eyes despite the warmth blooming in her chest, despite the thrumming in her heart, because yes, they were hers, somehow they were hers, and she was theirs, she’d always be theirs, and this reinforcement of her feelings wreathing the miracle of simply bantering with her girlfriends in a nondescript restaurant far away from everything they knew would’ve been silly to anyone else but to her it meant everything, and to prevent being overwhelmed she let her vision focus on the picture that warmed her chest just as much.

Chloe’s nose and hands flattened against the glass, her wide eyes and beaming smile reflecting an ecstatic mask on the shark’s snout; helping the shark convey inaccessible emotions otherwise misunderstood. But Chloe understood, knew painfully well the callous restrictions of poor reputation, and the indistinguishable soulmates of land and sea bonded beyond the barrier. Chloe’s shoulder-length ombré locks blended with the iridescent water, navy roots fading to azure and cyan like foamy waves crashing on the shore; like her hair was an extension of the aquarium and the shark could swim into her, explore the open ocean, anywhere it wanted with her by its side.

A sentiment Max shared.

Chloe made her feel invincible, more than her time powers ever did. Inspired her to stand up for herself, break the rules, kiss the girl she loved, kiss the other girl she loved. Reminded her the world wasn’t limited to Blackwell, Arcadia, Seattle, any of these familiarities she’d clutched after finally preventing the tornado and clueless how to proceed. Although Captain Bluebeard and Long Max Silver’s ship slumbered in supposedly perpetual disarray their reunion repaired the vessel sturdier than ever, so badass and grandiose their childhood selves were shrieking atop their substitute swing set, and with the addition of Quartermaster Amber they weighed anchor, venturing wherever the wind guided their sails, no destination too far and no dream too big.

It would’ve unnerved Max before. The unknown. How could it not after endlessly reliving the same experiences? Even if she hated it, desperately hunted the path fleeing the nightmarish loop, ease entwined with commonality. She grew accustomed to the people, locations, research, even the danger; outcomes she could confidently mend, escape, destroy if necessary. But how could she prepare for something that hadn’t happened yet? That her powers hadn’t warned her about? How could she safely traverse the unknown?

But Chloe wasn’t unknown. She was something incomparable to Blackwell, Arcadia, Seattle, even their apartment in Los Angeles.

She was home.

Max’s beautiful, desirable, lovable home, one she should’ve sustained, and despised that for even one second, let alone five years, she allowed the furniture to fester and the foundation to fall; to become a decrepit shell of the vibrancy it once contained. She’d never permit this level of destruction, nothing even remotely close, ever again. Every squeaky floorboard, every peeling patch of paint, every cracked window, she’d be right there to fix it. And if her hands weren’t enough, if she was missing a tool or couldn’t wield one by herself, two more were equally committed to this priceless maintenance, and this devoted unification ensured the prosperous standing of her home once again.

#one day I'll finish this #a snail's pace lol #life is strange #amberpricefield #max caulfield #chloe price #rachel amber #fanfiction #fan fiction

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nightingaelic · 3 years

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could you do Fallout New Vegas companion’s reactions to a Courier Six who is also the Lone Wanderer telling their stories from their time in DC? (bonus points for Arcade’s reaction to them hating the enclave, and if that would make him decide to keep his past hidden even longer, or if he would still tell them?)

The logistics and implications of this make my head spin. This is also super long, honestly I should just quit writing reacts and start writing fics OH WAIT

Getting the courier talking was a tough thing to do, but on nights where the moon was full and the coyotes' howls were miles away or at least behind some stout walls, on nights where they were a few beers in and they hadn't seen another living soul in a few days, that Mojave Express deliverer started to reminisce. That wasn't really the surprising part, though. No, the surprising part was what they would remember, fondly or not-so-fondly: A world apart from the desert, a continent away on another coast, and stories of life in a vault, a missing father, pure water and a Brotherhood divided.

Arcade Gannon: Arcade didn't mind these moods, at least when they first cropped up. He nodded along as the courier talked about living in their father's shadow, about feeling cornered by their own family's legacy. He hung on their words about living in the cradle of America's history, about Project Purity, all of the gritty details of modifying a GECK to bring water to a devastated wasteland.

Eventually though, the courier's memories soured, with the arrival of Enclave remnants in their life. Arcade folded into himself with every harsh word, every jolt of plasma that had disrupted his friend's world relived in horrific detail. They gestured angrily as they described their newfound purpose, their battle for power with the fractured Brotherhood of Steel at their back, and their smug satisfaction at the moments they were able to crack open Raven Rock and the Enclave's mobile base crawler and lay waste to their tormentors.

It took a few rounds of these stories before the courier noticed he shrank and grew quiet whenever they neared the end of their story about breaking into another vault to find the GECK. They stopped abruptly one night. "What's up with you?"

"Um..." Arcade scratched the back of his neck and looked away. "Nothing. Nothing, I just... have some personal experience with the Enclave, myself."

The courier sighed. "Yeah, there's a few people walking around the West Coast that have similar stories to mine. Arroyo's full of them, for one. Is it something like that?"

Arcade took a deep breath. "I feel... well, it's a lot closer to home, for me. Close enough to raise questions, so I don't talk about it much."

"Close enough to..." The courier twisted their face up in confusion for a moment, before realization set in and their eyes grew large. "You were... your... oh."

"Mmm-hm."

"Well, fuck me." The courier smiled and popped a cap off of another beer. "I've been doing all the talking, haven't I? Let's hear your story about working with the guys in power armor who ruined my life, right after dad did."

Craig Boone: Whenever the courier started up like this, Boone couldn't help but notice a familiar twinge of regret and self-doubt in their voice. It shone through most clearly when they spoke about their time with the Brotherhood of Steel, the men and women they'd fought alongside and lost during their struggle against the remnants of the Enclave. It was there, too, in their story about returning to the vault they grew up in, setting the chaos that had arisen in their wake to rest, but not being able to go back to the way things were.

Boone didn't pry. He knew that feeling well. Instead, he cracked open bottles of beer, liquor, soda, whatever they had on hand during their nights in the desert, and just listened. He'd done the same for Carla, when they were younger and new to each other and he couldn't get enough of her voice and how it flowed endlessly, easily, the way his never could. He absorbed it all now as he did then: The joy, the pain, the loss, the fear, the triumphs and falls and abandoned dreams that filled the courier up and drove them to travel west, beyond anything they had ever known.

That last part stumped Boone a bit, though. "Why didn't you stay?" he finally asked one night.

They looked surprised. "Stay? Stay where? I didn't have a home anymore."

Boone shook his head. "With the Brotherhood. Or some other settlement."

"Like Megaton?" The courier sighed. "I thought about it. Close to the vault, friendly people, easy work... I guess I just didn't want to wind up... stuck."

They flushed red and looked away from him. Boone knew why they were embarrassed, but he also knew the truth in their words.

Sometimes the courier cried after they had finished, though they did their best to hide it. Boone pretended not to notice. He was pretty sure they knew he was pretending, but he was also pretty sure that pointing it out would be worse than just letting it be an open secret between them. The silence between them endured, but something grew inside it and flourished. Some kind of deeper understanding.

Lily Bowen: The more the courier spoke, the more Lily made connections in her muddled mind. Of course they knew the basic layout of most vaults, they had grown up in one. Of course they were extra-sensitive to the Mojave heat, they had come to the desert from the cooler of the two coasts. Of course they'd been extra-wary around the super mutants or nightkin of Jacobstown, they had only known angry super mutants looking to grow their own numbers through any means necessary.

Their shared experience of growing up inside a vault reminded Lily of happier days, and she often asked questions about Vault 101 during the courier's stories. "Were you sweet on anyone inside your old home?" she asked, with a big smile befitting a proud grandma.

The courier blushed. "That's not very polite, Lily."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dearie."

"No, no it's okay." The courier smiled. "There was a boy who picked on me a lot, but I never figured out whether he did it because he hated me or liked me. His name was Butch. And there was Amata, my childhood friend. She was the daughter of the Overseer."

"Daughter of the Overseer?" Lily grinned. "I'm sure she was a lovely young woman."

The courier looked a little misty. "Yeah. She was. Probably still is."

Lily pulled a handkerchief that used to be a small tablecloth from inside her overalls and handed it over. "Maybe we can go back there together, pumpkin," she offered. "I always wanted to travel to the capital. We can visit your friends, see the sights."

"Yeah, maybe someday." The courier accepted the gift and blew their nose. "I've got some things I need to finish up here before I even think about wandering back east, though."

"Then let's make a list and do our chores," Lily said happily. "Number one?"

"Ohhhh, man." The courier smiled up at her. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul got a faint smile on his face whenever the courier started up like this, as if their memories reminded him of another place he had come from, another time. While they couldn't have more different backgrounds, pasts- hell, he had several hundred years on the courier, even if they shared the same road today- there was something in the description of the other roads they had walked that made him feel warm on a cold night.

"What's on your mind?" The courier asked him one night, when Raul's smile grew larger than usual.

"Nada, boss," he reassured them. "You're just a good reminder that I can change my mind about the future anytime I'd like. Tell me the one about that radio DJ again."

"Again?" The courier rolled their eyes. "Why? I could tell you a million stories about Underworld and all the ghouls that lived there, but all you want to hear about is Three Dog. You'd probably have more in common with the Underworld folks, honestly."

Raul nodded noncommittally. "Sí, but my favorite stories are about people who had to rise above bad situations and become someone uncommon. Anyone who's able to do that is either fighting for something great or running from something terrible. Sometimes both."

The courier shot him a skeptical look. "Three Dog's holed up in his radio station 24/7, he's not running from anything or out fighting for anything. All that stuff about 'the good fight' is a load of bull."

"Now, now, Six," Raul chastised. "Just because he looks like your average pendejo doesn't mean he isn't doing his part. You even told me his radio show is inspirational for the Capital Wasteland folks."

The courier held their hands up in the air and bobbled them, as if balancing an invisible scale. "The duality of man. Being an average pendejo, or convincing everyone around you that you aren't actually an average pendejo and can pull off miracles."

Raul laughed. "And which one are you, boss?"

"Eh, I'm still figuring it out."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass was never one for fixating on her own past, but she couldn't help but sympathize with the courier whenever they deigned to add onto their unbelievable story. It was hard enough for her to navigate her own damn life: She couldn't imagine being called upon to steer an entire area's destiny.

After another night of recalling their life inside a vault with their dad, then their unexpected loss of him right after being reunited on the surface, the courier stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry," they said.

Cass paused her swig of precious whiskey. "What?"

"I keep going on and on about my dad, and here you are not knowing what happened to yours."

"Eh." Cass took her drink and waved her hand around until the burning swallow made its way down. "S'loads of people in the wasteland without a clue what happened to their pops. I'm not special. In fact, I'd say it probably hurts a bit more, what happened with yours."

"Well, all the same." The courier sank deeper into their seat and examined their own bottle of spirits. "I feel like an open book, tonight. Anything you want to know about where I came from that I haven't already spilled?"

Cass thought for a moment. "Tribals."

"What about them?"

"Does the East Coast have them? You're not the first traveler I've met from there, but none of you have so much as mentioned any tribals out east."

"Mmm." The courier looked thoughtful. "I guess we do have them, though maybe not in the traditional sense. There's a mess of them in Point Lookout for sure, and at least one tribal group in the Capital Wasteland outright, but beyond that things are more... loose. Fewer intact families, fewer intact homes."

"Huh." Cass took another drink. "Maybe that's where my dad went."

She let the courier stew in the awkward silence for a bit before she grinned and reached out to smack them. "Just kidding. Keep going. I want to hear about that giant robot again."

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica usually sat and listened, spellbound, picturing a chapter of her order that had realized the very thing she kept trying to tell the Elders and made the ultimate sacrifice to follow their hearts anyway.

Well, maybe Elder Owyn Lyons hadn't come to the same realization as her, but he had had a change of heart that split his company and cut them off from almost everyone they had ever known. It had been five years since the High Elders had instituted radio silence toward their East Coast chapter, and so far there had been no attempts to re-establish contact.

Veronica prodded the courier for any info she could get about the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel. The courier let slip pretty early in their friendship that Elder Owyn Lyons had passed away, which wasn't unexpected. The man was 76 years old, after all. She learned on one particularly emotional night that his daughter, Elder Sarah Lyons, was also dead, something she wasn't sure even the Western Elders were aware of. That memory was clearly painful for the courier though, so Veronica didn't press for details.

"And the Enclave?" the Scribe asked one night, arms wrapped around her knees. "Are they completely gone?"

The courier grew cold. "Yes. I made sure of it."

"Right." Veronica nodded. "So the Brotherhood took over the air force base they were at. It must have been chock-full of tech and resources, if it was the Enclave's last stand."

"It was." The courier sighed and shifted in their seat. "And it woke up some of our brothers and sisters to their original mission in the Capital Wasteland. I thought maybe that selfishness had died with Liberty Prime, but... well, I didn't like it, so I left."

"Mmm, yeah." Veronica nodded again, sympathetically this time. "I know how you feel. Felt."

"Feel," the courier agreed. "I just wish there was more I could've done. Maybe there wasn't anything else, short of seizing power."

"You'd definitely get pushback for that in the Brotherhood," Veronica agreed. "But you might get that chance out here in the broader Mojave."

ED-E: At first, ED-E enjoyed the stories, trumpeting and cooing various beeps at the appropriate moments for emphasis. The one time the courier began badmouthing the Enclave, however, the eyebot waited until they had finished before playing back the first tape that Dr. Whitley had recorded before its trip.

The courier listened to the scientist's words from years ago, deflating slightly as it played out. When the tape had finished, they stood up and checked the eyebot over. "He sent you toward Navarro, huh?"

ED-E beeped affirmation, and the courier sighed. "But Navarro was already gone. I'm sorry. I guess I'm... well, me and the Brotherhood of Steel back east are responsible for your previous master's decision to send you away. Might be responsible for more, too."

ED-E beeped sadly. The courier pressed their forehead against the eyebot's metal dome in apology.

Rex: Well, surprising for most. Rex was not most. As soon as the courier got really into their recollections, Rex usually yawned and went to sleep. He stirred when he felt their hand reach down to scratch the ruff of his neck, or pat the glass dome that held his brain.

"Good dog," the courier said, through the veil of sleep. "You remind me of another pup that used to follow me around."

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shorkbrian · 4 years

Text

Anxious

Prelude - It took me three evenings to write this (EW that’s the longest I've ever taken) and it’s RLLY long (almost 10k) so be warned. The style is mean’t to be jumbled, grammatically incorrect, and awful, rushed, and incoherent. My day-to-day life process is like this but worse lol and I wanted to capture just the feeling of bad that exists. Have fun.

(Ps Kirishima is the subtlest of creeps here. Def a stalker, but good at lying, and reader is too gullible.)

Pairing - Yandere Kirishima X GN Reader

Warnings - anxiety, panic attack, non con, NSFW, idk the usual.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/1qFMIjTe9esCDiytqUY19t?si=RrkIvlXMReyT6CYKEh6xdw

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh god, is that Pro-Hero Red Riot?

Your hands tremble as you lift your drink to your lips, take a shaky sip.

It feels too hot in here, is it hot? You scream internally.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Red Riot, your favorite Pro-Hero in the entire world, was currently standing in line at Starbucks, looking up at the menu with his big, dumb, handsome face. He was wearing his hero costume - meaning he was on-duty, abs out and mask on.

As usual, you had ordered your regular drink, immediately sat down (always the blue armchair by the window, the one with the little table next to it). Normally you ignored each little tinkling of the bell above the door, the sound signaling another person entering the coffee shop. You just wanted to nurse your drink and look at stupid memes on your phone, try to gas yourself up for the day ahead, convince yourself that you would be able to get through whatever life decides to throw at you.

A particularly violent shake of the bell had your head snapping up, the loud noise startling you.

And holy fuck.

Red Riot.

Your cheeks were burning as you lowered your eyes to your phone, knowing that the big man was moving up in line, then ordering, then probably moving to wait near the drink pickup.

Looking up was out of the question - you didn’t want to ogle the Hero and make him feel uncomfortable, or for him to catch sight of your stupid blushing.

You almost dropped your drink the next time you raised it to your lips, your hands were so sweaty.

And of course that little slip-up had your heart beating ever faster, embarrassed that you had almost made a mess all over yourself, self conscious that someone had seen, oh god, what if people were looking at you, thought you were dumb and couldn’t even drink correctly? Oh god.

You set your drink back onto the little table at your side. A quick glance upward (to check the clock, that’s where your eyes went) and you could see Red Riot out of the corner of your eye, smiling as he took a picture with a fan as they both waited for their respective drinks.

Wouldn’t that be cool, to get a picture with him? But oh, that would mean you’d have to stand up, stumble over awkwardly towards him. Could you leave your drink on the side table? Would your seat be taken before you got back?

The hero would probably be able to spot you from a mile away, see how weirdly you walk, how your body looked. The thought made you cringe; he was so muscled and fit and in-shape, he’d probably think you were fat, or maybe weak? He’d be disgusted, wouldn’t he.

If you managed to get close enough to ask him if he wouldn’t mind taking a picture with you, he’d have to hear your voice crack, see how you shook like a tiny chihuahua from nervousness, see how sweaty and flushed you were from the embarrassment of being alive, of being seen.

God, you hated yourself.

You could never approach the Pro-hero and ask for a picture. He’d see how revolting, how weird and nervous and pathetic you were.

Plus, you’d already talked to the barista to get your coffee, had walked to the coffeeshop all by yourself and committed yourself to the horrifying ordeal of being known and seen by society. You’d done enough today to make your anxiety skyrocket, your hands were already shaking so bad, it’s a miracle you hadn’t dropped your drink or your phone or done something stupid and embarrassing to call attention to yourself.

“Red Riot!” Your eyes flickered up at the barista shouting, saw Red Riot smile and compliment the barista as they handed over his drink, something large and brightly colored and sporting an ungodly amount of whipped cream on top.

Red Riot left the Starbucks, the bell above the door jingling just as violently as it had when he had entered - the man was enthusiastic about seemingly everything, even opening and closing a door.

That’s actually one of the reasons he was your favorite. Red Riot was so confident and self assured, beaming with positivity and kindness. It was clear to see that he loved his job, that he loved life. Of course, you had seen him have bad days - in a few of the interviews after big rescues or horrific fights, his smile seemed to waver a bit, his eyes getting misty as the casualties were mentioned.

But that just showed he was human. Sensitive.

You grabbed your drink again, grimaced as nausea washed over you in a gentle wave. You were such a nervous wreck. But Red Riot had left - the only people here now were the employees and the people waiting in line. You just prayed none of them would pay attention or take notice of you.

----

He was here again.

Holy fuck, he was here again!

This time you weren’t as nervous (a mild feeling of excitement could be felt), you could actually drink out of your Starbucks cup without shaking like a leaf.

The redheaded hero had gotten his drink already, once again something large and colorful and probably loaded with sugar. But instead of leaving immediately, he moved to sit down and holy fuck - holy fuck he was walking right past you.

You didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself by moving - humans will subconsciously look towards movement, you knew that. But he walked further, you saw him sit down by the corner window, settling into the seat comfortably. He was wearing his hero outfit again, abs rippling as he leaned back, and out of the corner of your eye you could see him fiddling with his mask before taking it off and chucking onto the table in front of him.

Ah, so he was probably on a break.

Averting your eyes back to your phone, you tried to ignore his presence. He was a human being, just like yourself, who deserved and probably appreciated his privacy. God knows, if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t want fans to even think about you, much less look at you.

Minutes passed, maybe twenty? Thirty? But you had finished your drink. Now it was time to will yourself to your feet, to breathe, in, out. You were going to walk over to the trashcan, throw your drink cup away, and leave to walk back home.

Oh, but you were nervous.

You always felt nervous - this was a common occurrence, and each time you came here (you visited this Starbucks maybe twice a week) there was always this fight with your anxiety.

People would look at you as soon as you stood up. Did you walk weird? Your body had weird proportions, people would be mocking you inside their heads as you walked. Your outfit wasn’t trendy, it didn’t fit your body right, you looked odd and out-of-place - that’s probably what people thought as soon as their eyes landed on you.

You’d get judged for your drink cup - the size, because people would probably think it was too big for somebody with your body. Or maybe too small? Would people think you don’t take care of yourself?

Oh god, what if it slipped out of your hand as you were walking over? Even with it being empty, the noise of the cup hitting the floor would draw everyone’s eyes to you. They’d watch as you scramble to pick it up, and they’d probably think how clumsy and awkward and incompetent you were.

And what if the trashcan was full? Would you carry your empty cup home with you? That would look weird, someone carrying an empty cup down the street. I mean, who does that? Well, you’d seen other people do it, watched them carry their drink until they reached a trashcan, and then throw it away. But what if there weren’t any public trashcans nearby? You’d look so odd, fumbling along trying so hard to walk normally, to not draw attention to yourself, to blend in with everyone.

Should you turn around to see if there was another trashcan in the Starbucks? Oh, but that might look stupid. The employees had seen you so often, you’d look like a fool for not knowing if there was another trashcan.

Ugh, and your walk. You have to focus on straightening your shoulders, keeping your back straight, moving your arms - just a little, not too much. Taking even steps, not walking with a heavy foot or making any stomping or scuffing sounds.

There was so much to focus on, too much. And now you had been sitting here for five minutes, knuckles white as you gripped your empty drink cup. You looked like a moron.

You could do this.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Remind yourself that people didn’t care, didn’t pay attention to all of the lame little things that you did. You anxiety was misplaced, you worried about things too much, and everything was fine.

You were okay, you could do this.

And so you stood, walked to the trashcan by the door (oh thank god, it was empty), and threw your cup away.

You heard Red Riot saying bye to the employees, his cheery, upbeat voice as he laughed at something one of them said. Oh, had something been said about you? Were the employees and Red Riot laughing about what a disaster you were?

No, you were just being nervous, that was your anxiety talking. Red Riot wasn’t that kind of person, and the employees weren’t either. You knew this.

The door jingled as you opened it, and you heard footsteps behind you so you moved to the side after you had gone through, holding the door open for whoever was behind you.

“Thanks cutie!”

Red Riot was fixing his mask as he strolled past, and your head snapped up, flushing fiercely as you met his gaze. You smiled awkwardly, throwing up a feeble thumbs-up.

Oh god, why did you do that?

Red Riot smiled back at you, giving his own exuberant thumbs-up. Well, at least he was doing it too. That made your anxiety quiet down a bit, emboldened by your favorite Pro-Hero.

You watched his broad back as he walked away, muscles flexing with each step. He really was a beautiful man, both inside and out.

----

The next time you went to Starbucks, you reached the door right as someone else did (even though you saw them walking towards the door, even though you slowed down your pace so they would reach the door first and would go inside so you wouldn’t have to do that awkward dance of who-gets-the-door and who-goes-inside-first).

But they pierced through the awkwardness, yanked the door open for you and stepped to the side and motioned for you to go in first.

It was Red Riot.

He was wearing casual clothes today, ripped jeans and a dark hoodie, but you’d recognize that spike red hair anywhere, those gleaming shark teeth too.

You nodded your thanks quickly, hurrying through the door so he wouldn’t have to stand there for long. Immediately you headed for the bathroom, not wanting to have the Pro-Hero standing in line behind you. He was intimidating, but in the nicest way possible. You were just afraid there was something about you that he would think to be weird, or odd, or out-of-place.

Better to just avoid the situation altogether.

When you finished your business (you were a nervous pee-er), you ordered your drink, deciding to be bold this time and try something different from your usual choice. It was the little things, the small little bits of life that made you anxious - those were the things that you tried to overcome. I mean, life’s all about the small victories, right? And hopefully if you built up enough small victories, you could have a really big victory someday, like telling your favorite barista that you liked her hair, or picking a different seat to sit in, or trying to make a friend with another customers as you waited in line.

But for today, the small victory was stepping outside of your comfort zone just a little bit, getting something new that you weren’t used to.

You ordered, waited patiently for your drink to be made, and then turned to go settle down in your blue armchair by the window.

And Red Riot was sitting in your seat.

Fuck.

Your hands were suddenly sweaty, and you felt the familiar pang of an upset tummy. You were so tired of being nervous, of freaking out every single time there was a small change that you weren’t aware of, or if something happened that you couldn’t control.

There was an armchair opposite the one you always chose - also blue, but not as comfortable and certainly not with a good view out the window. It directly faced your usual spot, but in all your time coming here, no one had ever sat in it. A first you had just figured it was uncomfortable, but as you came here more and more, you figured that the nook was probably for couples rather than individual coffee drinkers.

The time you visited was a bit odd, eight PM, a few hours before closing. But it was the least crowded at this time, and the sun was barely setting, and it was the perfect time for you to be unbothered and by yourself.

But there was Red Riot, invading your (unofficial) space.

But it was okay, you could just sit somewhere else.

It felt weird, sliding onto one of the chairs at a small table. You were so used to your usual, safe routine that this threw you off. You were shaking so bad that you missed your mouth on your first try of sipping at the straw. What an idiot.

You had to try again, holding the straw this time, before you could actually taste the drink.

Selfishly, you wished Red Riot had chosen a different chair. But he was entitled to sit anywhere he liked, and it was obvious he enjoyed this particular Starbucks. Judging by the familiarity with the employees, he was becoming a regular like yourself. You only came once or twice a week, but he probably got his drink fix more often than you did.

Hopefully he didn’t think you were stalking him.

Oh god, what if he thought you were stalking him? How would you show that you weren’t stalking him? Come on a different day? At a different time? But you were here first, this was your routine, and that was your chair!

But man, you really didn’t want to make the Pro-Hero uncomfortable - he’d probably had a few crazy fans who had stalked him before.

Sighing, you sipped slowly at your drink, pulling out your phone to look at memes and text a few to your friends. You could still go about your routine, even if you were sitting in a different spot.

----

You ran into him at the grocery store.

It was in the produce aisle, where you were trying to decide between red apples or green, weighing the pros-and-cons of each decision in your head. You probably looked like an idiot, standing in front of the apples and doing nothing but staring at them, but you needed to ignore that right now.

“Yo, Starbucks buddy!”

The shout rang out across the produce section, and you flinched, suddenly drawn out of your apple-selection process.

It was late, almost ten PM, who and why was shouting in the grocery store??

You weren’t one to turn and stare, but you were curious, and surely whoever shouted like that wouldn’t mind a few questioning looks thrown their way.

And so you glanced over your shoulder, expecting to see a bunch of teenage boys greeting each other, or maybe a man saying hi to his friend.

Red Riot was excitedly waving at you.

Your brain blanked. Immediately, you turned your head, trying to see if there was someone else he was waving at. But there was no one around you - hell, there wasn’t even anyone else in the produce section except for you and the hero.

So he had to be waving at you.

Turning your whole body this time, you gave an awkward imitation of his wave, and let out a soft, croaky “Hey…” as the big man walked closer.

He had a big dumb smile on his big dumb face, and as he reached you, it grew even wider.

“Starbucks buddy! I didn’t mean to make you flinch, my bad. I know I can get a little loud sometimes, haha.” He stopped right in front of you, a grocery basket filled to the brim with meat and a few vegetables clutched on one of his large hands. God, he was so strong, you would be struggling to carry such a heavy basket, and here he was lugging it around like it had nothing but a loaf of bread in it. Red Riot could probably squish your skull to a pulp with just his hand, goddamn he was big.

You shrugged at his words, desperately willing your brain to work and to think of something smart and eloquent and good-to-say. “It’s uh, it’s-it’s fine. I’m just y’know, one of those nervous people, y’know?”

Wow.

Good job brain.

But the Pro-Hero smiled gently, putting his basket down on the ground.

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

Wait, what?

“I’ve seen you a couple times at Starbucks, the one on Grant and 1st. You always seem… well, nervous whenever I see you. At first I just thought it was because I was there, cause y’know, people have different reactions to seeing heros out in public.”

Your eyes were big, you felt your face erupt in an embarrassed fire, and your hands were fucking sweaty. Why couldn’t you have been born like, a blade of grass? A tree? Some non-sentient object that didn’t have to worry about thoughts or talking or how other people perceived it?

Red Riot continued, “But I’ve seen you a couple of other times; once on the subway, a few times at that park on the north side of town, haha, you really get around, dont’cha?”

Ah yes, now would be a good time for something to happen, like a plane to crash into the building and kill both of you instantly. Or some emergency that required his immediate attention, one that was so big and urgent that he would forget about you instantly.

His red eyes were drawn to your leg, which you were subconsciously wiggling like a toddler. His eyes softened, and his voice lowered an octave. “You always seem a bit… anxious. And I know that feeling, believe it or not. I used to be really insecure and nervous when I was younger-“

Oh, great. Now he was just calling attention to the fact that you were acting like a fucking child, that you were a fully-grown adult that couldn’t handle being out in the world because it was too nerve-wracking. Were you really that easy to read?

“-but I had some awesome people to help me through it. My moms were always really supportive, and they took such great care of me. It was rough for a little bit, but I learned how to be confident and how to strut my stuff and it’s helped me to help others. It’s sorta why I became a hero, actually.”

You smiled again, nodding. That made sense - each and every hero had a reason for why they wanted to help the general public, and of course Red Riot’s reason would be pure and inspiring.

“But uh, anyways! I just saw you shopping and thought I’d say hi to my Starbucks buddy. I was hoping you’d come and sit by me the other day, when I sat in the place you usually sit? But I understand that it’s sorta intimidating to approach a hero, even one in civilian clothing.”

Shoot, so he’d wanted you to sit by him that day? And here you were thinking that he had unintentionally commandeered your seat and was just trying to be left alone. God, you were so stupid.

“Oh, I’m-I’m sorry!” You stuttered out, face hotter than the actual sun. “I didn’t realize! I figured you always have people trying to get an autograph or a picture and you probably just want privacy, and I thought that maybe you just wanted to sit there and hadn’t gotten a chance to because I always sit there, which honestly that’s such a selfish thing for me to do - I should probably try to vary the places I sit so I don’t like-“

“Ah, don’t worry about it! You’re fine, okay? Trust me.” Red Riot patted your shoulder (yup, he could definite squeeze your head like a grape), before leaning down to grab his basket off the floor.

“Oh, well uhm, t-thank you, Mr. Red Riot” You resisted the urge to bow.

“Oh!” The man exclaimed, looking slightly surprised, “Call me Kirishima, none of that “Red Riot” stuff, alright?”

Confusion overtook you. “Uh, that’s only for your friends, civilians should respect the heros and call them by their chosen names.” At least, that’s what you had always been told.

But Red Riot just grinned. “Well, what’s your name?”

With a slight shake in your voice, you told him.

“I know your name now, so I officially deem the two of us as friends!” With his free hand, he patted you on the shoulder again. You shivered, and Red Ri-Kirishima seemed to notice.

“You alright (Y/N)? Didn’t hit you too hard, did I?”

“No, no… I’m just… kinda weird about touch I guess.” That was an understatement. You were so incredibly sensitive, every light touch felt searing, hugs always were too much sensation, you shuddered even thinking about cuddling - you were just too sensitive to touch.

Red-Kirishima stepped back, holding his hand up apologetically. “Oops, my bad. I kinda noticed that about you too, I should’ve remembered.”

At your questioning glance, the man hurried to continue. “Well, y’know, I saw that couple bump into you on the subway, and you looked like you were gonna cry. And then, like, at Starbucks you make an effort to not touch the barista’s hands when they give you your change.”

Great, so that was another thing you were obvious and weird about. Just great. You felt embarrassed that Kirishima had noticed that about you so easily, but you guessed being observant was part of his job.

“Well, I’m gonna go check out now, unless you need help with your groceries?” The man motioned to your barely-filled basket, and you shook your head.

“No, it’s-it’s okay. I can handle this, but thank you.”

Kirishima gave you a thumbs up. “Alright, sounds good. Although, are you planning on walking home?”

You shook your head yes, prepared to receive the “its not safe” talk. You knew it wasn’t safe, but it was just a few blocks, and you had made the walk to your apartment a million times, plus, you couldn’t afford to pay for an uber or a cab.

“It’s pretty dark out there, mind if I walk you home? I’m a hero and all, I promise I’m not going to try and steal your wallet.”

And there it was. For someone as nervous as yourself, walking alone in the dark really was no issue. Maybe it’s cause you weren’t afraid of someone trying to hurt you. You looked poor, you were ugly as fuck, and it was only a couple of blocks.

‘It’s okay Mr. R-Kirishima, I don’t mind. I’ll probably be here for a bit longer, don’t worry about me.”

He probably had other things to tend to, and even if he didn’t, you weren’t important enough to make a Pro-Hero go out of his way to walk you home. You were such an inconvenience already, it would just make you feel worse about yourself. And would you have to make small talk as the two of you walked?

Would he try and insist upon carrying your groceries? Would he want to walk up to your apartment floor with you? Or would he say goodbye in the lobby? Once again, best to just avoid the situation altogether.

Plus, you knew the hero was just trying to be polite. He probably didn’t actually want to walk you home.

Kirishima tried to offer again, but you turned him down, shaking your head, self-consciously drawing your shoulders up. You probably looked so stupid, like a scared little dog that had gotten yelled at. But it was a nervous reaction, and it felt better than just trying to stand there like a block.

Kirishima smiled gently, told you to have a safe night, and then left to go check out.

You turned back to the apples, trying to focus back on which color you should get, stuck between red, or green.

----

The next time you visited Starbucks, your regular spot was once again empty. It was almost a relief, seeing that you wouldn’t have to figure out if Kirishima wanted to talk today or not, if he wanted you to sit by him, or if he was just trying to make small talk back at the grocery store.

So you settled in, warm hot chocolate in hand as you looked out the window, watched cars whiz by on the street, rain puttering down softly.

And then Kirishima was bursting through the door, sending the door bell jingling in a frenzy, rain patterned heavily over his jean jacket, His eyes immediately found you, and his face lit up in a smile.

“(Y/N)!!!!”

You gave a little wave, watching as Kirishima smiled cheerily at you, before quickly ordering a drink. Immediately, the muscled redhead came to sit down in the armchair opposite you, panting a little bit.

“Wooo, I had to run here, started raining on me!”

“I can tell.” You let out a small laugh, noticing how his spiky hair was drooping from getting rained on.

“Glad to see you got home okay the other night.” The male blurted, leaning forward so he could strip off his jacket.

You paused. “What do you mean?”

He flashed you a grin, throwing his jacket over the back of the chair. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

Ah, he had a point.

His name was called, and Kirishima jumped up and went to pick up his drink before plopping back down in the armchair with a sigh.

“So, (Y/N), you ever been to the ocean before? All this water, the streets might be an ocean by the time we leave.”

Kirishima proceeded to launch into a story about the time he went to the ocean with his buddy Bakugou, how they had swam with turtles and even got to see a whale.

You were glad he was doing all the talking, letting you sit back and listen while you sipped at your hot cocoa. There was no pressure for you to talk, no pressure for you to try and fumble for the right words. And it was nice, seeing the big hero be so excited and animated, gesturing with his hands and almost spilling his drink all over himself.

As you listened to him talk, you settled back further into the armchair contentedly. He was a nice person to be around, you could see yourself being friends with him, if he didn’t mind.

——

And friends you did become.

It wasn’t long before the two of you exchanged numbers - Kirishima had wanted to send you a picture of a dog he had seen the other day while he was out patrolling.

The two of you texted memes to each other, cute pictures of animals, and even though your anxiety was loud and demanding and convinced you that you were bothering the man, Kirishima always assured you that was never the case.

He always seemed to be able to tell when you were feeling anxious, when nervousness settled deep in your bones and refused to leave. You slowly began to notice that with Kirishima, your anxiety was quieter. It was easy to let the exuberant man to take the lead, for him to make decisions, whether to walk up and ask to pet the cute dog or not. It was freeing in a way, letting your new friend take your anxiety and make it be quiet.

After all, no one gave you a second glance, now that you were trailing behind Pro-Hero Red Riot.

Kirishima was such a character, goofy, cheerful, and always sporting a sunny disposition. His casual fashion consisted of the most god-awful color combinations and mixed patterns. It wasn’t uncommon for the man to bounce towards you in greeting, wearing neon green crocs, dark blue overalls that were plaid, and a head-ache inducing black-and-white psychedelic shirt. Somehow he made it all work, and didn’t look odd or out of place.

You admired him, truly. You wished you could have his confidence, his attitude and bouncy personality. If you had confidence like that, you could probably do anything. As it stood right now, you could barely approach someone on the street and ask to pet their dog.

It had been so embarrassing, walking with Kirishima down the street and listening to him talk between gulps of a bright pink slushy. You spotted a woman walking a dog on the other side of the street, a big dog, fluffy and sweet-looking and happily walking along it’s owner, stopping to sniff at each plant that grew in the cracks of the sidewalk.

“Cute, I wish I could pet that dog.” You interrupted Kiri’s story, gazing wistfully at the dog.

Kirishima paused, swiveling his head to see what dog you were talking about. Once he did, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your hand. “Lets go pet it then!” But when he tried to pull you forward, you balked, pulling your wrist backward.

“I-I can’t, it’s….. I don’t know, It’s fine, I’ll stay here.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, studying you as he took another slow sip of his slushy. You had your own slushy, a significantly smaller size than the beefy Pro-Hero’s own giant cup.

“(Y/N), it’s okay - I’ll do all the talking, ‘kay?”

He could tell that the thought of talking to the owner, asking to pet their dog, was making you nervous. What if they said no? What if they thought you were being rude? Would the dog not like you? Would the owner think you looked funny? What if they were hurrying somewhere?

But if Kirishima did all the talking….. maybe you could manage trailing behind him, only emerging from his shadow if the owner said yes to petting their dog.

You gave the big man a weak smile, nodding gingerly before getting yanked forward, Kirishima already speed-walking towards the lady.

He asked, the lady said yes - you got to pet the absolute cutest dog ever. It was heaven.

You were grateful for Kirishima - shyly told him as much. If you were by yourself, you would have noticed the cute dog, but done nothing about it, just wished you had the courage to approach and ask if you could pet it.

But with Kiri? He made anything possible.

----

You were worried you were annoying him.

There was no evidence, but still, wouldn’t it be annoying to have an anxious little shadow? One that shook and stuttered and could barely go to the grocery store without freaking out and having a panic attack? Your fears and feelings weren’t entirely unfounded, I mean, there were millions upon millions of possible outcomes of any one action. Unfortunately, your brain liked to focus only on the negative options.

But Kirishima never got tired, never got frustrated with you. He didn’t mind ordering for the both of you when you got snacks at a fast-food place during long afternoons. He didn’t mind taking up extra space with his personality, being loud and brash and drawing attention to himself when you felt like everyone was watching you, waiting for you to make a stupid mistake.

Kiri seemed to like walking you home, helped you check your windows and in the closet and under the bed (not for people, but what if there was some eldritch monster that lurked just out of sight?). He never made fun of you for your feelings or fears, just gently listened and then tried to help you deal with them.

He even got you to be somewhat comfortable with making silly little mistakes in public. One time the man tripped on thin air, spilling warm coffee all over you and himself. Immediately he burst out laughing at his own clumsiness, apologizing between giggles as he heaved himself off the floor and went to go grab napkins.

If you had spilled a drink on him and yourself, you would’ve been asking Siri where the nearest cliff was. But you realized, the same way that you weren’t worried, and how it wasn’t that big of a problem that your shirt was now soaked with sweet coffee and sticking to your skin, Kirishima probably wouldn’t care if you spilled anything on him.

After all, it was an honest mistake.

The big man was helping you to learn how to be more comfortable in the world. But still, the creeping suspicion that he was just being kind to you out of sheer politeness was forefront in your mind.

So you came up with a question, practiced asking it in the mirror, took several days to build up your confidence to ask Kirishima.

“Do you actually want to be friends with me?”

And sure, that might be a forward question. But you valued honesty, had told him so a few times when he asked you to rate his outfit on a scale from 1-10 (usually it was a solid 10 - his personality making the outfit shine) you tried not to lie to others, and expected the same courtesy from them.

The two of you were in the park, resting on one of the benches after walking around and looking at the different plants (one of your favorite activities, no matter how lame). And now was as good a time as ever, so you popped the question, barely stuttering once.

Kirishima was silent for a bit, and you were almost afraid of looking up at him. The truth would come out now - how he just saw a pathetic little civilian and felt so much pity for them that he decided to be their friend. You were just a burden to him, how could you ever be anything else?

When you dared to look up at the big redhead, the intensity in his gaze had you leaning towards the side nervously, away from the strength of all his attention focused on you.

“(Y/N)…. becoming friends with you was - it’s been the best decision I’ve ever made in my life.” His voice held such sincerity, his face open and honest. You recoiled from the statement, uncomfortable with the compliment. That had to be a lie, he was just saying that to make you feel better. You were so pathetic and weak that other people had to pretend that you were better than you actually were to avoid hurting your feelings. You wished you never existed. Why did you even ask him that question in the first place? There was no way that someone as nice as Kirishima would actually tell you how worthless and pitiful you were.

Large hands grabbed your own, and you jumped. Kirishima’s hands were warm, scarred and calloused, yet soft in their grip as they gently squeezed your own hands. You tried not to flinch at the contact.

“I know that you don’t believe me, but you should. You know-“ One of his hands went to run through his hair, tousling through it’s straight, un-gelled style, before returning to your hand. “-I was pretty lonely before I met you. Like, I had my squad - Bakugou and Mina and Denki and Sero…. But it just….. There was something missing.”

Kirishima leaned close to you, your sides pressing together, his red eyes trying to catch your own. You were too shy, had to look off to the side.

“There was someone missing. And when I saw you, it felt…. Everything just clicked. I was missing you.”

You could feel his breath fanning against the side of your flaming hot face. It was uncomfortable. He was lying, he had to be. He was just trying to help you be confident in yourself, so he wouldn’t have to baby you and hold your hand and help you do simple things like ordering food or going for walks and not worrying about what people thought of you.

He was just being nice.

For some reason, you felt your throat clog up, felt the spicy sting of tears building up. Why did you feel like crying? You weren’t exactly in tune with any of your other emotions, only paid attention if it was anxiety or fear.

A thumb rubbed over your knuckles soothingly (it burned), and the next thing you knew you were being enveloped in a bear hug, Kirishima’s arms crushing you into his chest, his pecs pressing against your face.

Goddamn, he was built as fuck.

You tried to keep still, not squirm away from his touch like a child. You were an adult, you could handle a little bit of discomfort over being touched.

Kiri sighed. “I like being around you (Y/N). You don’t judge me for my mistakes, you accept them - you accept me. You uh, you make me happy dude, like, really happy.”

You chuckled a little bit at the redheads use of the word “dude”. Only a meathead could turn a sappy moment on it’s head by using the word “dude”. Still, you liked the way Kirishima talked, from the excited chatter when he was talking about something he liked, to the slow, comforting honey when he was being sincere and intimate, like now.

At the same time, your heart felt tight, waiting for the inevitable but that was sure to come. For the redhead to explain that he enjoyed your company but he was just being polite to a nervous civilian who couldn’t fend for themselves. You fun to hang out with but it was only because you made him look better, cooler and manlier because he was nice to someone as pathetic as you.

The but never came. You waited and waited, but Kirishima just kept the slow rhythm of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles, kept your face pressed into his chest and an arm wrapped around your body. You didn’t know what to do.

Should you pull back? Your throat felt tight again. Kirishima was lying to you, he had to be. There wasn’t any way that someone would actually enjoy you as a person.

You pulled back from the warmth of his body, pulled your hand away from his. “I don’t….. I want honesty Kirishima. Please? Lies hurt more than the truth, please. I’m not a good person, I’m pathetic and nervous and shy, and I’m too loud sometimes, and my body looks weird, and I’m ugly and disgusting, and-“

“(Y/N), stop.” His voice thundered, cutting you off. Immediately, you fell silent, chest tightening, gaze falling to your lap. He was right. He didn’t need to hear all your insecurities, they were already clear to see. You were such a drag on his life, he probably hated having to deal with you, having to see you.

“Kiri, I’m not uhm-“ Your voice was wavering. “-I’m not feeling so great, I think I’m gonna head home.”

As you stood, so did the redhead. “Please don’t feel obligated to walk me home, I know it’s way out of your way.” He probably hated every second of it, probably insisted just to be polite. Even now, Kirishima was beginning to protest, grabbing at your hand. You pulled back, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Kiri, please.” You whispered, tears threatening to fall. You hated yourself. You hated yourself so much, your chest hurt, your ears felt full, everything felt too heavy and bad - there weren’t even any words to explain it. You just wanted to go home and cry, sob into a pillow.

Kirishima stayed put, probably watching you walk away from the park. God, you hoped he wasn’t, you walked so weirdly. Why couldn’t you just disappear?

——

You tried your best to disappear.

You did the bare minimum, turning in assignments an hour before they were due, half-assing them. You hardly ventured out of your room, only to grab water or to use the bathroom.

Neighbors kept knocking on your door, probably the couple in the apartment opposite you, asking for a cup of sugar so they could make cookies, or wanting to tell you that your mail downstairs was getting full. But being the person you were, you were far too nervous to go answer the door. You were probably annoying people. It would just be better for the world if you weren’t in it, wouldn’t it?

Kirishima kept trying to text you, call you (Even though he knew you couldn’t pick up - calls terrified you), trying to coax you to go on a walk with him, to come get coffee or a slushie with him when he finished working. You brushed him off with lame excuses, telling him you were sick, backtracking when he said he was coming over with soup and movies. You didn’t feel well enough for company.

Still, the man kept texting you several times a day, then only a few times, and now it was down to just once a day. In one corner of your mind, it hurt. The rest of your mind knew that it was for the best, knew that his life was going to be better because you weren’t going to be there bothering him.

His texts consisted of simple messages now, ones you felt bad not responding to, but if you did respond, you hated yourself for the rest of the day. You sucked.

“(Y/N), look at this dog!” *IMAGE ATTACHED*

Cute.

“Yo, you wanna come get something to drink at our place? They have a deal on coffee today!”

Sorry Kiri, I’m not feeling too good today. You should go get a drink though, have fun!

“I saw some people rollerskating in the park, we should try that!”

Yeah.

“Would you wanna go for a walk sometime?”

I don’t think so, I’m pretty busy right now. You should go and get sunshine though, you deserve it!

“We need to go to our Starbucks soon, I need COFFEE haha”

“Gonna ever come see where I work? I can show you my office, it’s super cool!”

“(Y/N), you doing okay?”

“I miss you.”

----

You woke up to the sound of your neighbors (or maybe the complex manager?) knocking on your door. Anxiety filled you, palms immediately becoming clammy, so you fumbled around your bed, searching for your earbuds. Maybe if you could listen to music, you could calm down? Sometimes that worked, sometimes not. It really depended on how worked up you were.

Luckily you found them, quickly stuffing them in your ears as you queued music up on your phone. The knocking faded out as music filled your ears, but your anxiety still persisted. You curled up onto your side, hugging a pillow to your chest, almost on the verge of tears from nothing more than a few knocks at your door. You were such a burden to society.

It took a minute, but your heart stopped racing, palms stopped sweating, and you fell back asleep. You were so tired of being awake.

----

You awoke a second time to hands carding gently through your hair. It felt weird for a brief second, but you just ignored the feeling - until you remembered that you lived alone, and the front door was supposed to be locked.

Squeaking in panic, you shot up, eyes wide, scrambling back into the corner of your bed, clutching the blanket to your chest.

Kirishima blinked at you, hand still hovering over where your he’d had previously been. He was sitting on the edge of your bed, shoes off, bare feet on the floor.

Your eyes were still wide with fear, chest heaving with panic, but you managed to rip out your earbuds. “Kirishima? How-how did you get in?!? What are you….” You trailed off, tugging your blanket closer around your body as you realized that you were in your pajamas. They weren’t provocative, nor exposed any skin, but they drowned your form, were probably stained and most likely dirty, and you definitely looked awful. But back to the issue at hand, how did Kiri get in your apartment?

The man in question gave a dorky little wave, lips quirking up ever so slightly.

“(Y/N), hey! I haven’t seen you in so long!” He paused for a second, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. “I missed you… I was kinda worried.”

“But how are you- I mean…. inside?” You stuttered, completely flustered.

“Oh, I talked to the complex manager, said I was a family member who was really worried about you. Showed him how you haven’t been answering my texts…. I was really worried (Y/N). You were giving such weird replies to my texts, and then you stopped answering completely, and no one answered the door whenever I knocked.”

Wait, that was him knocking? All those times?

You were going to jump out the window.

“Kiri… I didn’t mean to worry you, I just… You shouldn’t be worried about me.”

“Why not? I care about you, I… I wanted to see you.”

It was time to be honest, say the things that were painful to say. The truths that hurt your heart, but needed to be said. Otherwise, Kirishima just wouldn’t get it.

“Kiri, I’m not-I’m not worth your worry. I don’t deserve it. I’m a nervous, depressed wreck, who can’t even open a door or answer the phone. You’re-you’re being nice to me cause you’re a good person. I don’t think I should be… well, like, around you. I just-I bring you down, and you have to do stuff for me and reassure me and I’m such a burden. Please just, I don’t know, please just don’t give me any more attention. I’m so stupid and gross and you should be friends with someone who isn’t….. isn’t like me.”

You finished your rant, almost breathless, choked up, feeling ready to cry.

Silence reigned between the two of you, everything quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the rhythmic clicking of your fan.

It was uncomfortable. But you’d said your piece. It’d be weird if you said anything else, right? Should you say something else? Was he going to hate you for wasting his time? Holy crap, Kirishima is gonna hate you for wasting his time, for not telling him that at the beginning, when he first got to know you.

“(Y/N)-“ The sound of Kirishima’s soft, low voice made your head snap up, up to his face. He was looking at you, red eyes dark and large and filled with… pity? Sadness? “-I don’t even know how to tell you how wrong you are about that.”

The blanket shrouding your body was quickly pulled away, Kirishima discarding it to the side so he could shuffle closer to you, wrap you in one of his signature death-grip hugs. You were quickly pulled into his arms, the large man hunched over you as he squeezed you tight. It didn’t feel good. You wished he would remember that you didn’t like to be touched.

“I was pretty sure of my feelings before… well, before you asked if I wanted to be friends with you. And truthfully, I wasn’t exactly honest with you.” Your heart gave the tiniest squeeze. You knew he had been lying to you, but yeah, it did kinda hurt to hear him admit it.

“I kinda wanna be more than friends with you, actually.”

His hold on your body loosened, pulling back so he could look at your face. Your ugly, about-to-cry, gross face. You tried to turn away, pull out of his grip and find your blanket and crawl underneath it and stay there until you died. There was no way he was coming onto you - you weren’t good enough for him. He was Kirishima, Red Riot, pro hero, sunshine of the world, manliest and strongest guy out there.

And you were just….

You.

Kirishima didn’t let you move away. He grabbed your arms, pulled you up a bit so you were at his level. “I’m serious about this. I know you don’t believe me, all that anxiety and nervousness trying to lie to you, but….” A quick glance at his face showed the redhead to be blushing. “I’ve wanted to be more than friends from the moment I first saw you.”

Exasperated, almost angry at this point (he was lying), you scoffed, wiggling in his grip to signal that you wanted to let go.

“Kiri, I held a door open for you, it was nothing special. I’m ugly and lame and I panic over the slightest things, stop lying to me and saying that I’m someone worth your time.” Surprised, Kirishima loosened his grasp on your arms, and you moved away from him to sit on the edge of the bed. “I could never be worth your time.”

Was silence becoming a trend between the two of you? Apparently, because Kirishima didn’t say anything, just crawled over and sat down next to you. The big man was hardly ever silent, always talking about this, that, or the other. You were just a pro at messing things up, weren’t you?

A moment longer of sitting awkwardly in silence. You couldn’t take it anymore, you wanted to be able to cry about your shameful existence in peace, without having to entertain Kiri’s pity and lies.

“Can you….. Can you-you go…. Please?” You whispered, hugging your arms around your body. Oh yeah, you had forgotten you were in your gross, oversized pajamas. Just another thing for you to feel bad about.

Kirishima didn’t move.

Afraid he hadn’t heard you, you turned bright red, what an idiot - you can’t even speak loud enough to be heard. You stuttered as you started to repeat your request, but Kirishima cut you off.

“Why can’t you see?” He turned to you. “You’re the most lovely thing, I want to be around you all the time. Why can’t you see that you’re the most wonderful person in the world?”

Horrified, you reeled back. He was just pushing more lies. You felt so uncomfortable, you hated this, you wanted him to stop. “That’s-that’s just some fantasy Kiri…. I’m awful. Please, just go-“

“No.”

No? His voice sounded different, harsh and filled with authority. You looked at your feet, settled against the bare floor. You just wanted to sleep, and sleep, and never have to wake up. Why did being a human have to be so hard?

Might as well let the big redhead say his piece, make you feel worse about yourself. Then you could shove him out the door and spend the next week sobbing yourself sick.You felt bad, you couldn’t even explain your own emotions, put a name to this feeling that was painful and clawed at your chest like it was trying to rip you apart.

“You aren’t understanding me (Y/N). That’s no fantasy of mine - that’s reality.” A large hand grabbed your chin softly, turning your face towards Kiri’s. “Whenever I come up with a fantasy that involves you, I end up fucking my fist ’til I go raw.”

The admission made you stutter, and you hadn’t thought it was possible for you to blush harder, but here you were - twelve shades redder than the reddest tomato.

Kiri didn’t give you a chance to breathe. “I missed you so much, you don’t even realize. I could compliment you until I go blue in the face, but you’re so shy and nervous and adorable, you’d never, ever believe me.”

Well, that much was true. At least he knew you well.

“So instead, I’m just gonna show you how much you mean to me.”

Soft lips met your own, a hand fisting into your hair and twisting your head back to make kissing you easier for Kiri. You couldn’t even think, barely had presence of mind to push at the solid man, hitting his chest. You felt ugly, and gross, and stupid and weak, was this some sort of prank? This had to be some sort of prank. There’s no way Kirishima could actually be attracted to you.

Your mind was drawn to the present when a sharp blossom of pain emanated from your lip. Kiri pulled back, a single drop of blood running down his chin as he stared at you, your foreheads almost touching.

“Don’t get in your head, I want you here. Don’t think, just feel.”

You wanted to say something, to open your mouth and ask him again to leave. He shouldn’t be kissing you, he should be kissing someone prettier, stronger, someone who had their life together.

You wanted to protest, but you were being pushed onto your back on the bed, Kiri’s large, calloused hands grabbing at your limbs and bodily moving you however he saw fit despite your squirming.

“Kir-stop-stop touching! Don’t, please, I’m-I’m so gross-“

His lips were on yours again, swallowing your cries as he moved the two of you around on the small bed until you were splayed out underneath him. He was moving so quickly, with such confidence and self-assuredness that you couldn’t keep up. His hands were starting to squeeze at your waist, his thighs bracketing your own as the big man got comfortable over you, leaning down to avoid breaking the deep, passionate kiss.

Your lungs were burning.

You had to pull your face to the side, pushing at Kiri’s shoulders as you did so, making panicked noises as you tried (and failed) to take in air through your nose. How the hell was Kiri holding his breath this long?

The man finally got the hint, letting you pull away from him, gasping for air. You felt dizzy, his hands were still squeezing and stroking over your waist, it was too much. As you tried to get your breathing under control, you glanced up at your friend, red-faced, on the verge of tears. Why was he doing this? You were so gross, ugly, nothing when compared to how fit and muscular and handsome Kirishima was.

HIs eyes were dark, chin smeared red from the blood earlier - you bet your chin looked the same. His chest rose and fell rapidly, seemingly also out of breath, but the moment your eyes met his, the man was descending again, this time to press hot kisses all over your face, on your jaw, behind your ears.

“Don’t, oh, please don’t. Kiri-why are you-? Stop-“ You gasped, the sensations of his lips trailing across your skin too much for you to handle. A kiss to the column of your throat had you jolting, trying to sit up, not knowing what you were doing but trying to get away. It was too much.

“Lay back.” Kiri’s deep voice rumbled. “Let me make you feel good. You’ll forget about the anxiety, okay? Just focus on me.”

You didn’t want to focus on him. But at the same time, the situation was so overwhelming, you didn’t know what to do except let him push you back down with a hand on your chest.

Before you could process what happened, your clothes were off, his clothes gone as well. You wanted to shriek; cry and cover yourself and tell Kirishima to leave, but everything was happening too fast, and your body couldn’t keep up.

You felt floaty, buzzy, like you were in a weird dream, ears stopped up full of cotton.

Wet fingers prodded at your entrance. Oh, were they Kiri’s? When had they gotten wet? The fingers retracted, and you watched Kirishima gather the saliva in his mouth before spitting onto his hand.

Ah.

The fingers were back, one pushing into you, the pressure too deep, too tight, too harsh. You knew in the back of your mind that you probably looked so stupid, gasping and shivering and shaking, but you couldn’t control it.

One finger turned into two, then three, then four, and then they were gone, something much bigger trying to split you open.

You felt sick.

You couldn’t move.

Kirishima was kissing your face again, his touch burning, making your skin feel tingly and painful and rough everywhere he touched. It hurt. He was saying something, but your ears were buzzing, everything felt fuzzy and weird, and you didn’t know where to look, what to do, except lie there and let the man continue.

He was soft, gentle. But no amount of easy touches or reassuring words were getting through to you, just the overwhelming sensation of being too full, nausea thick in your stomach, throat closing up. The room tasted like blood.

The pressure wasn’t going away, just building and building and building as Kirishima thrust into you, until eventually a twinge of pleasure slipped into your system alongside the discomfort of being filled.

It felt weird… nice? You couldn’t tell anymore.

There was only sweat, slick, slapping noises, rough hands running over your skin, words being said. You couldn’t grasp anything.

You felt full, empty, all at the same time.

The pleasure built, higher and higher and higher until it burst into little sharp fragments that ran through your veins, zinging into your wrists, sparking through your tummy.

And then there was warmth inside you, and the part of you still lucid recognized that Kirishima had just cum inside your body.

You couldn’t get enough air into your lungs.

----

Kirishima was laying beside you, making shushing sounds, stroking your hair, pulling the blanket up around the two of you. The pressure between your legs was gone, as was the stinging pleasure that had spilled all over your body. You couldn’t feel, everything was still too much, too loud and bright and rough and warm.

Kirishima was still stroking your hair as you finally calmed down, hyperventilating coming to a stop, shaking still there, but not as violent as it had been.

“-so strong, and your laugh always makes me happy. I love you, and I know you love me back. It’s gonna take some time for us to work past all this nervous stuff, but I’m not give up. I’ll always be here for you, you know that?”

He was rambling, occasionally pressing soft kisses to your neck, along your collarbone - innocent, reassuring. You closed your eyes.

“You need someone to be there for you, I know. You get so anxious, and you bottle up your feelings, and I know you get so scared of saying or doing the wrong thing and you just freeze or panic.” He continued. “You won’t ever have to worry about that with me. We worked around it today, yeah? You just relax, and let me lead. I’m never gonna steer you wrong (Y/N).”

You felt cold.

#yandere #yandere kirishima eijirou #yandere boku no hero academia #kirishima #yandere kirishima eijiro #yandere kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #anxiety #tw noncon #tw dubcon #panic attack

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joannie95 · 3 years

Text

I Hope

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When the love of your life breaks your heart you hope he feels that same pain

Word Count: 2K+

Warnings: angst, angst and more angst

A/N: Oh my god its a miracle I actually wrote something. This story is base off of I Hope by Gabby Barrett I had fun writing it and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you to @mo320 and @celestialbarnes for helping me with ideas and looking over the story.

As I sit with Bucky in the coffee house, I start to reminisce over our last few years together. Since the beginning it felt like he was it for me, I pictured a life with him. Get married, have a few kids, and grow old together. I reached across the table and held his hand in mine. I give him a loving smile but notice his attention is elsewhere. This has been happening more and more lately. I don't want to admit to myself that somethings wrong because as soon as I do, that future I've always pictured together could come crashing down. "Are you alright Bucky?"

"Hmm?" He quickly looks up from his phone before closing the screen. "Sorry what?"

"I asked if you're alright? You seem distracted." I try to meet his eyes but he seems to be doing everything to avoid them.

"Yeah I'm fine, listen I know this is short notice but I have to go. Steve needs me at the shop a car part got delivered but no one can find it." He gets up ignoring your protests of never spending time together anymore. "I'm sorry, I'll see you at home." And with that, he's gone.

I'm not sure how long I sat there, coffee long forgotten. There's a tap on my shoulder, I look up and see my friend Peggy. When Bucky and I started dating I became close with his best friend Steve's girlfriend.

"Y/N how are you?" She pulled me into a tight hug. "Where's Bucky? I thought you two were spending the day together."

"Yeah um, we were but he said steve needed his help at the shop. It's ok though." I was trying hard to convince her but it seems like I was trying to convince myself even more. "Are you here alone? Do you want to join me?"

Before she could respond Steve walks up to the both of you and puts his arm around Peggy. "Hey Y/N how are you doing, where's Bucky?"

They looked at each other when they saw the confused look on your face. "What do you mean? He was texting you earlier wasn't he? He said you needed his help at the shop."

Steve seemed just as confused as me after hearing that. "I haven't talked to Bucky all day." He looked towards Peggy then back at me. "Maybe you misheard him."

I quickly gathered my things and got up. "Yeah you're probably right, I should go."

Peggy grabbed onto my arm when I nearly stumbled in my attempt to rush. "Please stay, you can join us."

I quickly thanked her but decided it was best to leave. "No it's fine really, I need to go find Bucky." Once outside I tried to figure out what to do, I took my phone out and tried to call him. It rang three times before sending me to voice-mail, I tried once more and again it rang three times then straight to voice-mail. He had to see that I was calling him right? I decided it was best to just take a cab home and wait for him there.

Once I was home I couldn't stop panicking. Why did he lie to me? What was he doing? I'm not sure how much time had passed but soon enough I heard the door close and bucky walked inside. "Where have you been?"

He looks up with a smile as he's hanging up his coat. "Hello to you too."

I got off the couch and walked towards him. I want to scream but decided it's best to stay calm. "Where have you been Bucky? And don't tell me you were at the shop because I ran into Steve and he said he hasn't talked to you today."

"Doll." He takes a step towards me.

"Just tell me the truth, we can work things out but I need you to tell me the truth." I blink the tears away and try to steady my breathing.

"I'm sorry." He runs his hands through his hair and looks defeated. Either for what he did or being caught. "Nothing happened, I met her at work and she gave me her number and we started talking but we never did anything. I promise."

"But something did happen!" I turn away trying to keep my distance. "Is she who you left me to see today, just tell me that."

He looks down and kicks the ground. "Yes." He tries to take my hands in his but I pull back before he can. "I promise all we did was talk."

"Just tell me why? Am I not good enough for you? Am I not pretty enough? I thought everything was fine but obviously if you have to go looking for someone else it's not." All these doubts are finally coming out, I never wanted to admit them but deep down I think I've always felt this way.

"No that's not it, you have to believe me."

"If I was good enough you wouldn't have had to go behind my back and lie to my face to meet her. Just tell me why? What did I do?"

"I was stupid. Someone gave me attention and it made me feel good I never intended for it to go past talking I promise." He walked up to me and slowly reached towards me, this time allowing him he placed his hands on my cheeks and pulled me close. "I'm sorry, please forgive me. We can work this out like you said just please forgive me."

"I don't know Bucky." This is the love of my life, but I'm not sure if the pain in my heart from finding out the truth outweighs the pain of never being able to hold him again. I place my hands over his and spoke barely above a whisper. "Please don't ever hurt me like this again." I look up and see relief in his eyes.

He wipes away the tears that started to fall from my eyes before kissing me. First on my forehead, then each cheek, and lastly a soft turned heated kiss on my lips. "I promise I won't."

And I believed him, I started to trust him again and everything was going so great. Until it wasn't. The first few weeks after the incident was great, Bucky put more focus into our relationship. It felt like it did when we first started dating. Romantic gestures, spontaneous date nights it was all perfect. Then one day I noticed it, he was more focused on his phone than he was on me. I tried to convince myself I was just imagining things, he wouldn't try so hard to work things out just to do it all over again right?

I was getting ready for a date night, Bucky made reservations at a restaurant he knew I wanted to go to. While he was in the shower I was deciding between two dresses, a fitted dress that hugged every curve or a dress that showed just enough skin that was sure to drive him crazy. While I was debating on them I heard a ping from the nightstand and assumed it was Steve texting Bucky so I decided to ignore it and keep getting ready. After a few minutes, I heard two more notifications. "Bucky! Bucky your phones going off, I think it might be Steve!" Deciding to just save my voice I go grab the phone and take it to him. As I pick it up another notification appears and I feel the world stop and my heart shatter. No, no he promised. He promised it was nothing and he would stop.

"Sorry about that doll, were you calling me?" When I didn't answer him he walked up behind me. "Y/N, are you alright?" He was about to place his hand on my shoulder but my next question made him freeze in his spot.

"Who's Dot?" I turn around and look at him not knowing if I'm more angry or heartbroken. "James, who is Dot and why is she so excited to see you this weekend when you told me you were going to visit your parents?"

"Y/N, please. I can explain."

I threw his phone across the room hoping it broke when I heard it hit the wall. "Explain what? Explain why you lied to me! Explain why you're probably screwing the girl you told me you stopped talking to! Or explain how you could throw this entire relationship away! I was stupid enough to trust you and give you a second chance and this is what you do." I push past him and start packing whatever I can into a small suitcase.

He walks up behind me and tries to stop me. "Baby please, just stop and listen to me. I'm sorry"

"No. I'm sorry that I thought I could trust you but I'm done." I keep packing and turn towards him once I’m done. "If you're willing to ruin us, ruin the future we were planning for her. Then I'm done"

As I make my way towards the door he pulls me back. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close. "Baby please." There's a strain in his voice, I don't have to look to know he's crying. "Please don't leave me, I need you. I love you."

I force myself out of his hold and turn to him. "No, you don't, if you actually loved me none of this would have ever happened and you would have never put me through this much pain." I walk towards the door and put my hand on the handle. Before I open it I turn back. "Just remember that you caused this James, it was all you." Before I could hear his response I walked out and slammed the door. I willed myself not to cry, not yet. I get in my car and drive. I didn't know what to do or where to go but the next thing I know I'm standing in front of a house knocking on a door. It opens and they look shocked at my current state. "I know I may be asking a lot especially since you both knew Bucky long before I came along but I really need a place to stay right now." As soon as I was pulled into a tight hug the floodgates opened and all the emotions came pouring out.

Peggy walked me towards a spare room and Steve brought my bag. She sat me down in bed and held me as I cried. The exhaustion from all the crying must have put me to sleep. I slowly open my eyes and adjust to the light coming through the door and attempt to sit up, a few moments later Peggy walks through the door with a glass of water in her hand.

"Oh good, you're up, here drink this. After all that crying I'm sure you need it." She handed me the glass and took it back once it was empty.

"What time is it?" I try to clear my throat, all that crying made my voice incredibly hoarse.

A little past 11 pm, you slept for a few hours once you stopped crying. She sat down next to me and wrapped her arms around me. "You don't have to talk about what happened if you're not ready but you can stay here as long as you want. And you don't have to worry about James bothering you, Steve gave him quite an earful. I've never heard him yell at James that way as long as I've known them.

Hearing that almost made me want to smile. "I feel so stupid Peg." My voice cracked and I felt like crying again. "How could I trust him again only for him to cheat on me again?"

"You listen to me, the only stupid one in this situation is James. He knew exactly what he was doing and that's on him, not you. I promise you will get through this, Steve and I will be with you the entire time."

"Thank you, Peggy, I don't know what I'd do without you"

It didn't happen immediately but Peggy was right as always. With some time and help from my friends, I was able to put James and his betrayal behind me. Within a couple of days, I was able to laugh and smile again. Within a couple of weeks, I was able to stop crying over the pain he caused. Within a couple of months, I was able to go out with friends and have fun again even after hearing that James never stopped seeing that girl he was cheating with.

That's exactly what I was doing tonight. I was out with Peggy, having drinks and enjoying life. We had a discussion that even though things with James ended badly I didn't want to lose her and Steve as friends and that it didn't mean they couldn't be friends with him either. Steve especially, I didn't want my pain to be the reason he loses a lifelong friendship.

"Looks like we're out of drinks, I'll go get us some more." I weave through the crowded room and walk up to the bar and order a couple of drinks. While I wait I feel someone bump into me. I turn around and am about to tell them to watch where they're going. My eyes go wide when I see who's standing before me.

"Y/N, hi how are you?"

"James." You take pleasure when you see him cringe at the name. "I'm good, how are you and that girl you're seeing, what was her name again? Donna, Dora." I feign innocence as I incorrectly guess her name.

"Dot, and we're fine."

I follow his gaze towards a redhead who's getting a little too close to another man. "Looks like it." I turn and grab my drinks ready to leave this situation. " I should get going, Peggy's waiting."

"Wait. Before you go I wanted to apologize for everything I did. I didn't mean-"

I cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "I'm gonna stop you right there, if you were going to say you didn't mean to hurt me then I don't want to hear it. You knew exactly what you were doing and you knew exactly what it would do to me once I found out and honestly at this point I really don't care."

I take a step towards him and with a smile on my face tried to sound as sincere as possible. "I hope you both have a wonderful life together James. I hope you go on plenty of dates and I hope you know she's the one by the end of the night. I hope you never ever felt more free and tell all your friends that you're so happy.

I hope she comes along and wrecks every one of your plans, I hope you spend your last dime to put a rock on her perfectly manicured hand. I hope she's wilder than your wildest dreams and that she's everything you're ever gonna need." I lose your smile and continue in a serious tone. "And then I hope she cheats on you like you did on me." Before he could respond I excuse myself and walk back towards my table.

"Hey I was starting to get worried, is everything alright?"

"Actually Peggy everything is great." I smile as we toast and down our drinks. After tonight everything feels like it'll be ok.

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